CHAPTER XIV.

We'll keep our customs--what is law itself,

But old establish'd custom? What religion,

(I mean, with one-half of the men that use it,)

Save the good use and wont that carries them

To worship how and where their fathers worshipp'd?

All things resolve in custom--we'll keep ours.

_Old Play._

We left the company of Magnus Troil engaged in high wassail and revelry.

Mordaunt, who, like his father, shunned the festive cup, did not partake

in the cheerfulness which the ship diffused among the guests as they

unloaded it, and the pinnace, as it circumnavigated the table. But, in

low spirits as he seemed, he was the more meet prey for the

story-telling Halcro, who had fixed upon him, as in a favourable state

to play the part of listener, with something of the same instinct that

directs the hooded crow to the sick sheep among the flock, which will

most patiently suffer itself to be made a prey of. Joyfully did the poet

avail himself of the advantages afforded by Mordaunt's absence of mind,

and unwillingness to exert himself in measures of active defence. With

the unfailing dexterity peculiar to prosers, he contrived to dribble out

his tale to double its usual length, by the exercise of the privilege of

unlimited digressions; so that the story, like a horse on the _grand

pas_, seemed to be advancing with rapidity, while, in reality, it scarce

was progressive at the rate of a yard in the quarter of an hour. At

length, however, he had discussed, in all its various bearings and

relations, the history of his friendly landlord, the master fashioner in

Russel Street, including a short sketch of five of his relations, and

anecdotes of three of his principal rivals, together with some general

observations upon the dress and fashion of the period; and having

marched thus far through the environs and outworks of his story, he

arrived at the body of the place, for so the Wits' Coffeehouse might be

termed. He paused on the threshold, however, to explain the nature of

his landlord's right occasionally to intrude himself into this

well-known temple of the Muses.

"It consisted," said Halcro, "in the two principal points, of bearing

and forbearing; for my friend Thimblethwaite was a person of wit

himself, and never quarrelled with any jest which the wags who

frequented that house were flinging about, like squibs and crackers on a

rejoicing night; and then, though some of the wits--ay, and I daresay

the greater number, might have had some dealings with him in the way of

trade, he never was the person to put any man of genius in unpleasant

remembrance of such trifles. And though, my dear young Master Mordaunt,

you may think this is but ordinary civility, because in this country it

happens seldom that there is either much borrowing or lending, and

because, praised be Heaven, there are neither bailiffs nor

sheriff-officers to take a poor fellow by the neck, and because there

are no prisons to put him into when they have done so, yet, let me tell

you, that such a lamblike forbearance as that of my poor, dear, deceased

landlord, Thimblethwaite, is truly uncommon within the London bills of

mortality. I could tell you of such things that have happened even to

myself, as well as others, with these cursed London tradesmen, as would

make your hair stand on end.--But what the devil has put old Magnus into

such note? he shouts as if he were trying his voice against a north-west

gale of wind."

Loud indeed was the roar of the old Udaller, as, worn out of patience by

the schemes of improvement which the factor was now undauntedly pressing

upon his consideration, he answered him, (to use an Ossianic phrase,)

like a wave upon a rock,

"Trees, Sir Factor--talk not to me of trees! I care not though there

never be one on the island, tall enough to hang a coxcomb upon. We will

have no trees but those that rise in our havens--the good trees that

have yards for boughs, and standing-rigging for leaves."

"But touching the draining of the lake of Braebaster, whereof I spoke to

you, Master Magnus Troil," said the persevering agriculturist, "whilk I

opine would be of so much consequence, there are two ways--down the

Linklater glen, or by the Scalmester burn. Now, having taken the level

of both"----

"There is a third way, Master Yellowley," answered the landlord.

"I profess I can see none," replied Triptolemus, with as much good faith

as a joker could desire in the subject of his wit, "in respect that the

hill called Braebaster on the south, and ane high bank on the north, of

whilk I cannot carry the name rightly in my head"----

"Do not tell us of hills and banks, Master Yellowley--there is a third

way of draining the loch, and it is the only way that shall be tried in

my day. You say my Lord Chamberlain and I are the joint proprietors--so

be it--let each of us start an equal proportion of brandy, lime-juice,

and sugar, into the loch--a ship's cargo or two will do the job--let us

assemble all the jolly Udallers of the country, and in twenty-four hours

you shall see dry ground where the loch of Braebaster now is."

A loud laugh of applause, which for a time actually silenced

Triptolemus, attended a jest so very well suited to time and place--a

jolly toast was given--a merry song was sung--the ship unloaded her

sweets--the pinnace made its genial rounds--the duet betwixt Magnus and

Triptolemus, which had attracted the attention of the whole company from

its superior vehemence, now once more sunk, and merged into the general

hum of the convivial table, and the poet Halcro again resumed his

usurped possession of the ear of Mordaunt Mertoun.

"Whereabouts was I?" he said, with a tone which expressed to his weary

listener more plainly than words could, how much of his desultory tale

yet remained to be told. "O, I remember--we were just at the door of the

Wits' Coffeehouse--it was set up by one"----

"Nay, but, my dear Master Halcro," said his hearer, somewhat

impatiently, "I am desirous to hear of your meeting with Dryden."

"What, with glorious John?--true--ay--where was I? At the Wits'

Coffeehouse--Well, in at the door we got--the waiters, and so forth,

staring at me; for as to Thimblethwaite, honest fellow, his was a

well-known face.--I can tell you a story about that"----

"Nay, but John Dryden?" said Mordaunt, in a tone which deprecated

further digression.

"Ay, ay, glorious John--where was I?--Well, as we stood close by the

bar, where one fellow sat grinding of coffee, and another putting up

tobacco into penny parcels--a pipe and a dish cost just a penny--then

and there it was that I had the first peep of him. One Dennis sat near

him, who"----

"Nay, but John Dryden--what like was he?" demanded Mordaunt.

"Like a little fat old man, with his own grey hair, and in a

full-trimmed black suit, that sat close as a glove. Honest

Thimblethwaite let no one but himself shape for glorious John, and he

had a slashing hand at a sleeve, I promise you--But there is no getting

a mouthful of common sense spoken here--d----n that Scotchman, he and

old Magnus are at it again!"

It was very true; and although the interruption did not resemble a

thunder-clap, to which the former stentorian exclamation of the Udaller

might have been likened, it was a close and clamorous dispute,

maintained by question, answer, retort, and repartee, as closely huddled

upon each other as the sounds which announce from a distance a close and

sustained fire of musketry.

"Hear reason, sir?" said the Udaller; "we will hear reason, and speak

reason too; and if reason fall short, you shall have rhyme to boot.--Ha,

my little friend Halcro!"

Though cut off in the middle of his best story, (if that could be said

to have a middle, which had neither beginning nor end,) the bard

bristled up at the summons, like a corps of light infantry when ordered

up to the support of the grenadiers, looked smart, slapped the table

with his hand, and denoted his becoming readiness to back his hospitable

landlord, as becomes a well-entertained guest. Triptolemus was a little

daunted at this reinforcement of his adversary; he paused, like a

cautious general, in the sweeping attack which he had commenced on the

peculiar usages of Zetland, and spoke not again until the Udaller poked

him with the insulting query, "Where is your reason now, Master

Yellowley, that you were deafening me with a moment since?"

"Be but patient, worthy sir," replied the agriculturist; "what on earth

can you or any other man say in defence of that thing you call a plough,

in this blinded country? Why, even the savage Highlandmen, in Caithness

and Sutherland, can make more work, and better, with their gascromh, or

whatever they call it."

"But what ails you at it, sir?" said the Udaller; "let me hear your

objections to it. It tills our land, and what would ye more?"

"It hath but one handle or stilt," replied Triptolemus.

"And who the devil," said the poet, aiming at something smart, "would

wish to need a pair of stilts, if he can manage to walk with a single

one?"

"Or tell me," said Magnus Troil, "how it were possible for Neil of

Lupness, that lost one arm by his fall from the crag of Nekbreckan, to

manage a plough with two handles?"

"The harness is of raw seal-skin," said Triptolemus.

"It will save dressed leather," answered Magnus Troil.

"It is drawn by four wretched bullocks," said the agriculturist, "that

are yoked breast-fashion; and two women must follow this unhappy

instrument, and complete the furrows with a couple of shovels."

"Drink about, Master Yellowley," said the Udaller; "and, as you say in

Scotland, 'never fash your thumb.' Our cattle are too high-spirited to

let one go before the other; our men are too gentle and well-nurtured to

take the working-field without the women's company; our ploughs till our

land--our land bears us barley; we brew our ale, eat our bread, and make

strangers welcome to their share of it. Here's to you, Master

Yellowley."

This was said in a tone meant to be decisive of the question; and,

accordingly, Halcro whispered to Mordaunt, "That has settled the matter,

and now we will get on with glorious John.--There he sat in his suit of

full-trimmed black; two years due was the bill, as mine honest landlord

afterwards told me,--and such an eye in his head!--none of your burning,

blighting, falcon eyes, which we poets are apt to make a rout

about,--but a soft, full, thoughtful, yet penetrating glance--never saw

the like of it in my life, unless it were little Stephen Kleancogg's,

the fiddler, at Papastow, who"----

"Nay, but John Dryden?" said Mordaunt, who, for want of better

amusement, had begun to take a sort of pleasure in keeping the old

gentleman to his narrative, as men herd in a restiff sheep, when they

wish to catch him. He returned to his theme, with his usual phrase of

"Ay, true--glorious John--Well, sir, he cast his eye, such as I have

described it, on mine landlord, and 'Honest Tim,' said he, 'what hast

thou got here?' and all the wits, and lords, and gentlemen, that used to

crowd round him, like the wenches round a pedlar at a fair, they made

way for us, and up we came to the fireside, where he had his own

established chair,--I have heard it was carried to the balcony in

summer, but it was by the fireside when I saw it,--so up came Tim

Thimblethwaite, through the midst of them, as bold as a lion, and I

followed with a small parcel under my arm, which I had taken up partly

to oblige my landlord, as the shop porter was not in the way, and partly

that I might be thought to have something to do there, for you are to

think there was no admittance at the Wits' for strangers who had no

business there.--I have heard that Sir Charles Sedley said a good thing

about that"----

"Nay, but you forget glorious John," said Mordaunt.

"Ay, glorious you may well call him. They talk of their Blackmore, and

Shadwell, and such like,--not fit to tie the latchets of John's

shoes--'Well,' he said to my landlord, 'what have you got there?' and

he, bowing, I warrant, lower than he would to a duke, said he had made

bold to come and show him the stuff which Lady Elizabeth had chose for

her nightgown.--'And which of your geese is that, Tim, who has got it

tucked under his wing?'--'He is an Orkney goose, if it please you, Mr.

Dryden,' said Tim, who had wit at will, 'and he hath brought you a copy

of verses for your honour to look at.'--'Is he amphibious?' said

glorious John, taking the paper,--and methought I could rather have

faced a battery of cannon than the crackle it gave as it opened, though

he did not speak in a way to dash one neither;--and then he looked at

the verses, and he was pleased to say, in a very encouraging way indeed,

with a sort of good-humoured smile on his face, and certainly for a fat

elderly gentleman,--for I would not compare it to Minna's smile, or

Brenda's,--he had the pleasantest smile I ever saw,--'Why, Tim,' he

said, 'this goose of yours will prove a swan on your hands.' With that

he smiled a little, and they all laughed, and none louder than those who

stood too far off to hear the jest; for every one knew when he smiled

there was something worth laughing at, and so took it upon trust; and

the word passed through among the young Templars, and the wits, and the

smarts, and there was nothing but question on question who we were; and

one French fellow was trying to tell them it was only Monsieur Tim

Thimblethwaite; but he made such work with his Dumbletate and

Timbletate, that I thought his explanation would have lasted"----

"As long as your own story," thought Mordaunt; but the narrative was at

length finally cut short, by the strong and decided voice of the

Udaller.

"I will hear no more on it, Mr. Factor!" he exclaimed.

"At least let me say something about the breed of horses," said

Yellowley, in rather a cry-mercy tone of voice. "Your horses, my dear

sir, resemble cats in size, and tigers in devilry!"

"For their size," said Magnus, "they are the easier for us to get off

and on them--[as Triptolemus experienced this morning, thought Mordaunt

to himself]--and, as for their devilry, let no one mount them that

cannot manage them."

A twinge of self-conviction, on the part of the agriculturist, prevented

him from reply. He darted a deprecatory glance at Mordaunt, as if for

the purpose of imploring secrecy respecting his tumble; and the Udaller,

who saw his advantage, although he was not aware of the cause, pursued

it with the high and stern tone proper to one who had all his life been

unaccustomed to meet with, and unapt to endure, opposition.

"By the blood of Saint Magnus the Martyr," he said, "but you are a fine

fellow, Master Factor Yellowley! You come to us from a strange land,

understanding neither our laws, nor our manners, nor our language, and

you propose to become governor of the country, and that we should all be

your slaves!"

"My pupils, worthy sir, my pupils!" said Yellowley, "and that only for

your own proper advantage."

"We are too old to go to school," said the Zetlander. "I tell you once

more, we will sow and reap our grain as our fathers did--we will eat

what God sends us, with our doors open to the stranger, even as theirs

were open. If there is aught imperfect in our practice, we will amend it

in time and season; but the blessed Baptist's holyday was made for light

hearts and quick heels. He that speaks a word more of reason, as you

call it, or any thing that looks like it, shall swallow a pint of

sea-water--he shall, by this hand!--and so fill up the good ship, the

Jolly Mariner of Canton, once more, for the benefit of those that will

stick by her; and let the rest have a fling with the fiddlers, who have

been summoning us this hour. I will warrant every wench is on tiptoe by

this time. Come, Mr. Yellowley, no unkindness, man--why, man, thou

feelest the rolling of the Jolly Mariner still"--(for, in truth, honest

Triptolemus showed a little unsteadiness of motion, as he rose to attend

his host)--"but never mind, we shall have thee find thy land-legs to

reel it with yonder bonny belles. Come along, Triptolemus--let me

grapple thee fast, lest thou _trip_, old Triptolemus--ha, ha, ha!"

So saying, the portly though weatherbeaten hulk of the Udaller sailed

off like a man-of-war that had braved a hundred gales, having his guest

in tow like a recent prize. The greater part of the revellers followed

their leader with loud jubilee, although there were several stanch

topers, who, taking the option left them by the Udaller, remained behind

to relieve the Jolly Mariner of a fresh cargo, amidst many a pledge to

the health of their absent landlord, and to the prosperity of his

roof-tree, with whatsoever other wishes of kindness could be devised, as

an apology for another pint-bumper of noble punch.

The rest soon thronged the dancing-room, an apartment which partook of

the simplicity of the time and of the country. Drawing-rooms and saloons

were then unknown in Scotland, save in the houses of the nobility, and

of course absolutely so in Zetland; but a long, low, anomalous

store-room, sometimes used for the depositation of merchandise,

sometimes for putting aside lumber, and a thousand other purposes, was

well known to all the youth of Dunrossness, and of many a district

besides, as the scene of the merry dance, which was sustained with so

much glee when Magnus Troil gave his frequent feasts.

The first appearance of this ball-room might have shocked a fashionable

party, assembled for the quadrille or the waltz. Low as we have stated

the apartment to be, it was but imperfectly illuminated by lamps,

candles, ship-lanterns, and a variety of other _candelabra_, which

served to throw a dusky light upon the floor, and upon the heaps of

merchandise and miscellaneous articles which were piled around; some of

them stores for the winter; some, goods destined for exportation; some,

the tribute of Neptune, paid at the expense of shipwrecked vessels,

whose owners were unknown; some, articles of barter received by the

proprietor, who, like most others at the period, was somewhat of a

merchant as well as a landholder, in exchange for the fish, and other

articles, the produce of his estate. All these, with the chests, boxes,

casks, &c., which contained them, had been drawn aside, and piled one

above the other, in order to give room for the dancers, who, light and

lively as if they had occupied the most splendid saloon in the parish of

St. James's, executed their national dances with equal grace and

activity.

The group of old men who looked on, bore no inconsiderable resemblance

to a party of aged tritons, engaged in beholding the sports of the

sea-nymphs; so hard a look had most of them acquired by contending with

the elements, and so much did the shaggy hair and beards, which many of

them cultivated after the ancient Norwegian fashion, give their heads

the character of these supposed natives of the deep. The young people,

on the other hand, were uncommonly handsome, tall, well-made, and

shapely; the men with long fair hair, and, until broken by the weather,

a fresh ruddy complexion, which, in the females, was softened into a

bloom of infinite delicacy. Their natural good ear for music qualified

them to second to the utmost the exertions of a band, whose strains were

by no means contemptible; while the elders, who stood around or sat

quiet upon the old sea-chests, which served for chairs, criticised the

dancers, as they compared their execution with their own exertions in

former days; or, warmed by the cup and flagon, which continued to

circulate among them, snapped their fingers, and beat time with their

feet to the music.

Mordaunt looked upon this scene of universal mirth with the painful

recollection, that he, thrust aside from his pre-eminence, no longer

exercised the important duties of chief of the dancers, or office of

leader of the revels, which had been assigned to the stranger Cleveland.

Anxious, however, to suppress the feelings of his own disappointment,

which he felt it was neither wise to entertain nor manly to display, he

approached his fair neighbours, to whom he had been so acceptable at

table, with the purpose of inviting one of them to become his partner in

the dance. But the awfully ancient old lady, even the Lady Glowrowrum,

who had only tolerated the exuberance of her nieces' mirth during the

time of dinner, because her situation rendered it then impossible for

her to interfere, was not disposed to permit the apprehended renewal of

the intimacy implied in Mertoun's invitation. She therefore took upon

herself, in the name of her two nieces, who sat pouting beside her in

displeased silence, to inform Mordaunt, after thanking him for his

civility, that the hands of her nieces were engaged for that evening;

and, as he continued to watch the party at a little distance, he had an

opportunity of being convinced that the alleged engagement was a mere

apology to get rid of him, when he saw the two good-humoured sisters

join the dance, under the auspices of the next young men who asked their

hands. Incensed at so marked a slight, and unwilling to expose himself

to another, Mordaunt Mertoun drew back from the circle of dancers,

shrouded himself amongst the mass of inferior persons who crowded into

the bottom of the room as spectators, and there, concealed from the

observation of others, digested his own mortification as well as he

could--that is to say, very ill--and with all the philosophy of his

age--that is to say, with none at all.