Lavengro

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And as I lay on the bank and wept, there drew nigh to me a man in the
habiliments of a fisher. He was bare-legged, of a weather-beaten
countenance, and of stature approaching to the gigantic. "What is the
callant greeting for?" said he, as he stopped and surveyed me. "Has ony
body wrought ye ony harm?"

"Not that I know of," I replied, rather guessing at than understanding
his question; "I was crying because I could not help it! I say, old one,
what is the name of this river?"

"Hout! I now see what you was greeting at--at your ain ignorance, nae
doubt--'tis very great! Weel, I will na fash you with reproaches, but
even enlighten ye, since you seem a decent man's bairn, and you speir a
civil question. Yon river is called the Tweed; and yonder, over the
brig, is Scotland. Did ye never hear of the Tweed, my bonny man?"

"No," said I, as I rose from the grass, and proceeded to cross the bridge
to the town at which we had arrived the preceding night; "I never heard
of it; but now I have seen it, I shall not soon forget it!"

CHAPTER VII.

The Castle--A Father's Inquiries--Scotch Language--A Determination--Bui
Hin Digri--Good Scotchman--Difference of Races--Ne'er a Haggis--Pugnacious
People--Wha are Ye, Mon--The Nor Loch--Gestures Wild--The Bicker--New
Town Champion--Wild-Looking Figure--Headlong.

It was not long before we found ourselves at Edinburgh, or rather in the
Castle, into which the regiment marched with drums beating, colours
flying, and a long train of baggage-waggons behind. The Castle was, as I
suppose it is now, a garrison for soldiers. Two other regiments were
already there; the one an Irish, if I remember right, the other a small
Highland corps.

It is hardly necessary to say much about this Castle, which everybody has
seen; on which account, doubtless, nobody has ever yet thought fit to
describe it--at least that I am aware. Be this as it may, I have no
intention of describing it, and shall content myself with observing, that
we took up our abode in that immense building, or caserne, of modern
erection, which occupies the entire eastern side of the bold rock on
which the Castle stands. A gallant caserne it was--the best and roomiest
that I had hitherto seen--rather cold and windy, it is true, especially
in the winter, but commanding a noble prospect of a range of distant
hills, which I was told were "the hieland hills," and of a broad arm of
the sea, which I heard somebody say was the Firth of Forth.

My brother, who, for some years past, had been receiving his education in
a certain celebrated school in England, was now with us; and it came to
pass, that one day my father, as he sat at table, looked steadfastly on
my brother and myself, and then addressed my mother:--"During my journey
down hither I have lost no opportunity of making inquiries about these
people, the Scotch, amongst whom we now are, and since I have been here I
have observed them attentively. From what I have heard and seen, I
should say that upon the whole they are a very decent set of people; they
seem acute and intelligent, and I am told that their system of education
is so excellent, that every person is learned--more or less acquainted
with Greek and Latin. There is one thing, however, connected with them,
which is a great drawback--the horrid jargon which they speak. However
learned they may be in Greek and Latin, their English is execrable; and
yet I'm told it is not so bad as it was. I was in company the other day
with an Englishman who has resided here many years. We were talking
about the country and the people. 'I should like both very well,' said
I, 'were it not for the language. I wish sincerely our Parliament, which
is passing so many foolish acts every year, would pass one to force these
Scotch to speak English.' 'I wish so, too,' said he. 'The language is a
disgrace to the British Government; but, if you had heard it twenty years
ago, captain!--if you had heard it as it was spoken when I first came to
Edinburgh!'"

"Only custom," said my mother. "I dare say the language is now what it
was then."

"I don't know," said my father; "though I dare say you are right; it
could never have been worse than it is at present. But now to the point.
Were it not for the language, which, if the boys were to pick it up,
might ruin their prospects in life,--were it not for that, I should very
much like to send them to a school there is in this place, which
everybody talks about--the High School, I think they call it. 'Tis said
to be the best school in the whole island; but the idea of one's children
speaking Scotch--broad Scotch! I must think the matter over."

And he did think the matter over; and the result of his deliberation was
a determination to send us to the school. Let me call thee up before my
mind's eye, High School, to which, every morning, the two English
brothers took their way from the proud old Castle through the lofty
streets of the Old Town. High School!--called so, I scarcely know why;
neither lofty in thyself nor by position, being situated in a flat
bottom; oblong structure of tawny stone, with many windows fenced with
iron netting--with thy long hall below, and thy five chambers above, for
the reception of the five classes, into which the eight hundred urchins,
who styled thee instructress, were divided. Thy learned rector and his
four subordinate dominies; thy strange old porter of the tall form and
grizzled hair, hight Boee, and doubtless of Norse ancestry, as his name
declares; perhaps of the blood of Bui hin Digri, the hero of northern
song--the Jomsborg Viking who clove Thorsteinn Midlaagr asunder in the
dread sea battle of Horunga Vog, and who, when the fight was lost and his
own two hands smitten off, seized two chests of gold with his bloody
stumps, and, springing with them into the sea, cried to the scanty relics
of his crew, "Overboard now, all Bui's lads!" Yes, I remember all about
thee, and how at eight of every morn we were all gathered together with
one accord in the long hall, from which, after the litanies had been read
(for so I will call them, being an Episcopalian), the five classes from
the five sets of benches trotted off in long files, one boy after the
other, up the five spiral staircases of stone, each class to its
destination; and well do I remember how we of the third sat hushed and
still, watched by the eye of the dux, until the door opened, and in
walked that model of a good Scotchman, the shrewd, intelligent, but warm-
hearted and kind dominie, the respectable Carson.

And in this school I began to construe the Latin language, which I had
never done before, notwithstanding my long and diligent study of Lilly,
which illustrious grammar was not used at Edinburgh, nor indeed known.
Greek was only taught in the fifth or highest class, in which my brother
was; as for myself, I never got beyond the third during the two years
that I remained at this seminary. I certainly acquired here a
considerable insight in the Latin tongue; and, to the scandal of my
father and horror of my mother, a thorough proficiency in the Scotch,
which, in less than two months, usurped the place of the English, and so
obstinately maintained its ground, that I still can occasionally detect
its lingering remains. I did not spend my time unpleasantly at this
school, though, first of all, I had to pass through an ordeal.

"Scotland is a better country than England," said an ugly, blear-eyed
lad, about a head and shoulders taller than myself, the leader of a gang
of varlets who surrounded me in the play-ground, on the first day, as
soon as the morning lesson was over. "Scotland is a far better country
than England, in every respect."

"Is it?" said I. "Then you ought to be very thankful for not having been
born in England."

"That's just what I am, ye loon; and every morning when I say my prayers,
I thank God for not being an Englishman. The Scotch are a much better
and braver people than the English."

"It may be so," said I, "for what I know--indeed, till I came here, I
never heard a word either about the Scotch or their country."

"Are ye making fun of us, ye English puppy?" said the blear-eyed lad;
"take that!" and I was presently beaten black and blue. And thus did I
first become aware of the difference of races and their antipathy to each
other.

"Bow to the storm, and it shall pass over you." I held my peace, and
silently submitted to the superiority of the Scotch--_in numbers_. This
was enough; from an object of persecution I soon became one of patronage,
especially amongst the champions of the class. "The English," said the
blear-eyed lad, "though a wee bit behind the Scotch in strength and
fortitude, are nae to be sneezed at, being far ahead of the Irish, to say
nothing of the French, a pack of cowardly scoundrels. And with regard to
the English country, it is na Scotland, it is true, but it has its gude
properties; and, though there is ne'er a haggis in a' the land, there's
an unco deal o' gowd and siller. I respect England, for I have an auntie
married there."

The Scotch are certainly a most pugnacious people; their whole history
proves it. Witness their incessant wars with the English in the olden
time, and their internal feuds, highland with lowland, clan with clan,
family with family, Saxon with Gael. In my time, the schoolboys, for
want, perhaps, of English urchins to contend with, were continually
fighting with each other; every noon there was at least one pugilistic
encounter, and sometimes three. In one month I witnessed more of these
encounters than I had ever previously seen under similar circumstances in
England. After all, there was not much harm done. Harm! what harm could
result from short chopping blows, a hug, and a tumble? I was witness to
many a sounding whack, some blood shed, "a blue ee" now and then, but
nothing more. In England, on the contrary, where the lads were
comparatively mild, gentle, and pacific, I had been present at more than
one death caused by blows in boyish combats, in which the oldest of the
victors had scarcely reached thirteen years; but these blows were in the
jugular, given with the full force of the arm shot out horizontally from
the shoulder.

But, the Scotch--though by no means proficients in boxing (and how should
they box, seeing that they have never had a teacher?)--are, I repeat, a
most pugnacious people; at least they were in my time. Anything served
them, that is, the urchins, as a pretence for a fray, or, Dorically
speaking, a _bicker_; every street and close was at feud with its
neighbour; the lads of the school were at feud with the young men of the
college, whom they pelted in winter with snow, and in summer with stones;
and then the feud between the Old and New Town!

One day I was standing on the ramparts of the castle on the southwestern
side which overhangs the green brae, where it slopes down into what was
in those days the green swamp or morass, called by the natives of Auld
Reekie the Nor Loch; it was a dark gloomy day, and a thin veil of mist
was beginning to settle down upon the brae and the morass. I could
perceive, however, that there was a skirmish taking place in the latter
spot. I had an indistinct view of two parties--apparently of urchins--and
I heard whoops and shrill cries: eager to know the cause of this
disturbance, I left the castle, and descending the brae reached the
borders of the morass, where was a runnel of water and the remains of an
old wall, on the other side of which a narrow path led across the swamp:
upon this path at a little distance before me there was "a bicker." I
pushed forward, but had scarcely crossed the ruined wall and runnel, when
the party nearest to me gave way, and in great confusion came running in
my direction. As they drew nigh, one of them shouted to me, "Wha are ye,
mon? are ye o' the Auld Toon?" I made no answer. "Ha! ye are of the New
Toon; De'il tak ye, we'll murder ye;" and the next moment a huge stone
sung past my head. "Let me be, ye fule bodies," said I, "I'm no of
either of ye, I live yonder aboon in the castle." "Ah! ye live in the
castle; then ye're an auld tooner; come gie us your help, man, and dinna
stand there staring like a dunnot, we want help sair eneugh. Here are
stanes."

For my own part I wished for nothing better, and, rushing forward, I
placed myself at the head of my new associates, and commenced flinging
stones fast and desperately. The other party now gave way in their turn,
closely followed by ourselves; I was in the van, and about to stretch out
my hand to seize the hindermost boy of the enemy, when, not being
acquainted with the miry and difficult paths of the Nor Loch, and in my
eagerness taking no heed of my footing, I plunged into a quagmire, into
which I sank as far as my shoulders. Our adversaries no sooner perceived
this disaster, than, setting up a shout, they wheeled round and attacked
us most vehemently. Had my comrades now deserted me, my life had not
been worth a straw's purchase, I should either have been smothered in the
quag, or, what is more probable, had my brains beaten out with stones;
but they behaved like true Scots, and fought stoutly around their
comrade, until I was extricated, whereupon both parties retired, the
night being near at hand.

"Ye are na a bad hand at flinging stanes," said the lad who first
addressed me, as we now returned up the brae; "your aim is right
dangerous, mon, I saw how ye skelpit them, ye maun help us agin thae New
Toon blackguards at our next bicker."

So to the next bicker I went, and to many more, which speedily followed
as the summer advanced; the party to which I had given my help on the
first occasion consisted merely of outlyers, posted about half way up the
hill, for the purpose of overlooking the movements of the enemy.

Did the latter draw nigh in any considerable force, messengers were
forthwith despatched to the "auld toon," especially to the filthy alleys
and closes of the High Street, which forthwith would disgorge swarms of
bare-headed and bare-footed "callants," who, with gestures wild and
"eldrich screech and hollo," might frequently be seen pouring down the
sides of the hill. I have seen upwards of a thousand engaged on either
side in these frays, which I have no doubt were full as desperate as the
fights described in the Iliad, and which were certainly much more bloody
than the combats of modern Greece in the war of independence: the
callants not only employed their hands in hurling stones, but not
unfrequently slings; at the use of which they were very expert, and which
occasionally dislodged teeth, shattered jaws, or knocked out an eye. Our
opponents certainly laboured under considerable disadvantage, being
compelled not only to wade across a deceitful bog, but likewise to
clamber up part of a steep hill before they could attack us;
nevertheless, their determination was such, and such their impetuosity,
that we had sometimes difficulty enough to maintain our own. I shall
never forget one bicker, the last indeed which occurred at that time, as
the authorities of the town, alarmed by the desperation of its character,
stationed forthwith a body of police on the hill side, to prevent, in
future, any such breaches of the peace.

It was a beautiful Sunday evening, the rays of the descending _sun_ were
reflected redly from the grey walls of the castle, and from the black
rocks on which it was founded. The bicker had long since commenced,
stones from sling and hand were flying; but the callants of the New Town
were now carrying everything before them.

A full-grown baker's apprentice was at their head; he was foaming with
rage, and had taken the field, as I was told, in order to avenge his
brother, whose eye had been knocked out in one of the late bickers. He
was no slinger, or flinger, but brandished in his right hand the spoke of
a cart-wheel, like my countryman Tom Hickathrift of old in his encounter
with the giant of the Lincolnshire fen. Protected by a piece of wicker-
work attached to his left arm, he rushed on to the fray, disregarding the
stones which were showered against him, and was ably seconded by his
followers. Our own party was chased half way up the hill, where I was
struck to the ground by the baker, after having been foiled in an attempt
which I had made to fling a handful of earth into his eyes. All now
appeared lost, the Auld Toon was in full retreat. I myself lay at the
baker's feet, who had just raised his spoke, probably to give me the
_coup de grace_,--it was an awful moment. Just then I heard a shout and
a rushing sound; a wild-looking figure is descending the hill with
terrible bounds; it is a lad of some fifteen years; he is bare-headed,
and his red uncombed hair stands on end like hedgehogs' bristles; his
frame is lithy, like that of an antelope, but he has prodigious breadth
of chest; he wears a military undress, that of the regiment, even of a
drummer, for it is wild Davy, whom a month before I had seen enlisted on
Leith Links to serve King George with drum and drumstick as long as his
services might be required, and who, ere a week had elapsed, had smitten
with his fist Drum-Major Elzigood, who, incensed at his inaptitude, had
threatened him with his cane; he has been in confinement for weeks, this
is the first day of his liberation, and he is now descending the hill
with horrid bounds and shoutings; he is now about five yards distant, and
the baker, who apprehends that something dangerous is at hand, prepares
himself for the encounter; but what avails the strength of a baker, even
full grown?--what avails the defence of a wicker shield? what avails the
wheel-spoke, should there be an opportunity of using it, against the
impetus of an avalanche or a cannon ball?--for to either of these might
that wild figure be compared, which, at the distance of five yards,
sprang at once with head, hands, feet and body, all together, upon the
champion of the New Town, tumbling him to the earth amain. And now it
was the turn of the Old Town to triumph. Our late discomfited host,
returning on its steps, overwhelmed the fallen champion with blows of
every kind, and then, led on by his vanquisher who had assumed his arms,
namely, the wheelspoke and wicker shield, fairly cleared the brae of
their adversaries, whom they drove down headlong into the morass.

CHAPTER VIII.

Expert Climbers--The Crags--Something Red--The Horrible Edge--David
Haggart--Fine Materials--The Greatest Victory--Extraordinary Robber--The
Ruling Passion.

Meanwhile I had become a daring cragsman, a character to which an English
lad has seldom opportunities of aspiring; for in England there are
neither crags nor mountains. Of these, however, as is well known, there
is no lack in Scotland, and the habits of individuals are invariably in
harmony with the country in which they dwell. The Scotch are expert
climbers, and I was now a Scot in most things, particularly in language.
The castle on which I dwelt stood upon a rock, a bold and craggy one,
which, at first sight, would seem to bid defiance to any feet save those
of goats and chamois; but patience and perseverance generally enable
mankind to overcome things which, at first sight, appear impossible.
Indeed, what is there above man's exertions? Unwearied determination
will enable him to run with the horse, to swim with the fish, and
assuredly to compete with the chamois and the goat in agility and
sureness of foot. To scale the rock was merely child's play for the
Edinbro' callants. It was my own favourite diversion. I soon found that
the rock contained all manner of strange crypts, crannies, and recesses,
where owls nestled, and the weasel brought forth her young; here and
there were small natural platforms overgrown with long grass and various
kinds of plants, where the climber, if so disposed, could stretch
himself, and either give his eyes to sleep or his mind to thought; for
capital places were these same platforms, either for repose or
meditation. The boldest features of the rock are descried on the
southern side, where, after shelving down gently from the wall for some
distance, it terminates abruptly in a precipice, black and horrible, of
some three hundred feet at least, as if the axe of nature had been here
employed cutting sheer down, and leaving behind neither excrescence nor
spur--a dizzy precipice it is, assimilating much to those so frequent in
the flinty hills of Northern Africa, and exhibiting some distant
resemblance to that of Gibraltar, towering in its horridness above the
neutral ground.

It was now holiday time, and having nothing particular wherewith to
occupy myself, I not unfrequently passed the greater part of the day upon
the rocks. Once, after scaling the western crags, and creeping round a
sharp angle of the wall, overhung by a kind of watch tower, I found
myself on the southern side. Still keeping close to the wall, I was
proceeding onward, for I was bent upon a long excursion which should
embrace half the circuit of the castle, when suddenly my eye was
attracted by the appearance of something red, far below me; I stopped
short, and, looking fixedly upon it, perceived that it was a human being
in a kind of red jacket, seated on the extreme verge of the precipice,
which I have already made a faint attempt to describe. Wondering who it
could be, I shouted; but it took not the slightest notice, remaining as
immovable as the rock on which it sat. "I should never have thought of
going near that edge," said I to myself; "however, as you have done it,
why should not I? And I should like to know who you are." So I
commenced the descent of the rock, but with great care, for I had as yet
never been in a situation so dangerous; a slight moisture exuded from the
palms of my hands, my nerves were tingling, and my brain was somewhat
dizzy--and now I had arrived within a few yards of the figure, and had
recognised it: it was the wild drummer who had turned the tide of battle
in the bicker on the Castle Brae. A small stone which I dislodged now
rolled down the rock, and tumbled into the abyss close beside him. He
turned his head, and after looking at me for a moment somewhat vacantly,
he resumed his former attitude. I drew yet nearer to the horrible edge;
not close, however, for fear was on me.

"What are you thinking of, David?" said I, as I sat behind him and
trembled, for I repeat that I was afraid.

_David Haggart_. I was thinking of Willie Wallace.

_Myself_. You had better be thinking of yourself, man. A strange place
this to come to and think of William Wallace.

_David Haggart_. Why so? Is not his tower just beneath our feet?

_Myself_. You mean the auld ruin by the side of Nor Loch--the ugly stane
bulk, from the foot of which flows the spring into the dyke, where the
watercresses grow?

_David Haggart_. Just sae, Geordie.

_Myself_. And why were ye thinking of him? The English hanged him long
since, as I have heard say.

_David Haggart_. I was thinking that I should wish to be like him.

_Myself_. Do ye mean that ye would wish to be hanged?

_David Haggart_. I wad na flinch from that, Geordie, if I might be a
great man first.

_Myself_. And wha kens, Davie, how great you may be, even without
hanging? Are ye not in the high road of preferment? Are ye not a bauld
drummer already? Wha kens how high ye may rise? perhaps to be general,
or drum-major.

_David Haggart_. I hae na wish to be drum-major; it were na great things
to be like the doited carle, Elsethan-gude, as they call him; and, troth,
he has nae his name for naething. But I should have nae objection to be
a general, and to fight the French and Americans, and win myself a name
and a fame like Willie Wallace, and do brave deeds, such as I have been
reading about in his story book.

_Myself_. Ye are a fule, Davie; the story book is full of lies. Wallace,
indeed! the wuddie rebel! I have heard my father say that the Duke of
Cumberland was worth twenty of Willie Wallace.

_David Haggart_. Ye had better sae naething agin Willie Wallace,
Geordie, for, if ye do, de'il hae me, if I dinna tumble ye doon the
craig.

* * * * *

Fine materials in that lad for a hero, you will say. Yes, indeed, for a
hero, or for what he afterwards became. In other times, and under other
circumstances, he might have made what is generally termed a great man, a
patriot, or a conqueror. As it was, the very qualities which might then
have pushed him on to fortune and renown were the cause of his ruin. The
war over, he fell into evil courses; for his wild heart and ambitious
spirit could not brook the sober and quiet pursuits of honest industry.

"Can an Arabian steed submit to be a vile drudge?" cries the fatalist.
Nonsense! A man is not an irrational creature, but a reasoning being,
and has something within him beyond mere brutal instinct. The greatest
victory which a man can achieve is over himself, by which is meant those
unruly passions which are not convenient to the time and place. David
did not do this; he gave the reins to his wild heart, instead of curbing
it, and became a robber, and, alas! alas! he shed blood--under peculiar
circumstances, it is true, and without _malice prepense_--and for that
blood he eventually died, and justly; for it was that of the warden of a
prison from which he was escaping, and whom he slew with one blow of his
stalwart arm.