John Burnet of Barns Part 2

Before he left, Master Burnet examined me on my progress in polite learning, and finding me well advanced, he would have it that I should be sent forthwith to Glasgow College. He exacted a promise from my father to see to this, and left behind him, when he departed, letters of introduction to many of the folk there, for he himself had, at one time, been professor of divinity in the place. As for myself, I was nothing loth to go, and see places beyond Tweeddale and add to my stock of learning; for about this time a great enthusiasm for letters had seized me (which I suppose happens at some time or other to most men), and I conceived my proper vocation in life to be that of the scholar. I have found in an old ma.n.u.script book a list of the t.i.tles of imaginary works, editions, poems, treatises, all with my unworthy name subscribed as the author. So it was settled that I should ride to Glasgow and take lodgings in the town for the sake of the college cla.s.ses.

I set out one November morning, riding Maisie alone, for no student was allowed to have a servant, nor any one below the degree of Master of Arts. The air was keen and frosty, and I rode in high fettle by the towns of Biggar and Lanark to the valley of the Clyde. I lay all night at Crossford in the house of a distant relative. Thence the next day I rode to Hamilton and in the evening came to the bridge of the Clyde at Glasgow. Then I presented myself to the Princ.i.p.al and Regents of the college and was duly admitted, putting on the red gown, the badge of the student cla.s.s, than which I believe there is no more hideous habiliment.

The college in those days was poor enough, having been well-nigh ruined by the extortions of Lord Middleton and his drunken crew; and it had not yet benefited by the rich donations of the Reverend Zachary Boyd of the Barony Kirk. Still, the standard of learning in the place was extraordinarily high, especially in dialectic and philosophy-a standard which had been set by the famous Andrew Melville when he was a professor in the place. I have heard disputations there in the evenings between the schoolmen and the new philosophers, the like of which could scarcely be got from the length and breadth of the land.

Across the High Street were the college gardens and green pleasant orchards where the professors were wont to walk and the scholars to have their games. Through the middle ran the clear Molendinar Burn, so called by the old Romans, and here I loved to watch the trout and young salmon leaping. There was a severe rule against scholars fishing in the stream, so I was fain to content myself with the sight. For soon a violent fit of home-sickness seized me, and I longed for the rush of Tweed and the pleasant sweep of Manor; so it was one of my greatest consolations to look at this water and fancy myself far away from the town. One other lad who came from Perthshire used to come and stand with me and tell me great tales of his fishing exploits; and I did likewise with him till we became great companions. Many afternoons I spent here, sometimes with a book and sometimes without one; in the fine weather I would lie on the gra.s.s and dream, and in rough, boisterous winter days I loved to watch the Molendinar, flooded and angry, fling its red waters against the old stones of the bridge.

No one of us was permitted to carry arms of any kind, so I had to sell my sword on my first coming to the town. This was a great hardship to me, for whereas when I carried a weapon I had some sense of my own importance, now I felt no better than the rest of the unarmed crowd about me. Yet it was a wise precaution, for in other places where scholars are allowed to strut like cavaliers there are fights and duels all the day long, so that the place looks less like an abode of the Muses than a disorderly tavern. Nevertheless, there were many manly exercises to be had, for in the greens in the garden we had trials of skill at archery and golf and many other games of the kind. At the first mentioned I soon became a great master, for I had a keen eye from much living among woods and hills, and soon there was no one who could come near me at the game. As for golf, I utterly failed to excel; and indeed it seems to me that golf is like the divine art of poetry, the gift for which is implanted in man at his birth or not at all. Be that as it may, I never struck a golf-ball fairly in my life, and I mis...o...b.. I never shall.

As for my studies, for which I came to the place, I think I made great progress. For after my first fit of home-sickness was over, I fell in with the ways of the college, and acquired such a vast liking for the pursuit of learning that I felt more convinced than ever that Providence had made me for a scholar. In my cla.s.ses I won the commendation of both professors; especially in the cla.s.s of dialectic, where an a.n.a.lysis of Aristotle's method was highly praised by Master Sandeman, the professor.

This fine scholar and accomplished gentleman helped me in many ways, and for nigh two months, when he was sick of the fever, I lectured to his cla.s.s in his stead. We were all obliged to talk in the Latin tongue and at first my speech was stiff and awkward enough, but by and by I fell into the way of it and learned to patter it as glibly as a Spanish monk.

It may be of interest to those of my house that I should give some account of my progress in the several studies, to show that our family is not wholly a soldiering one. In Greek I studied above others the works of Plato, delighting especially in his Phaedo, which I had almost by heart; Aristotle likewise, though I read but little of him in his own tongue. I completed a translation of the first part of Plato's Republic into Latin, which Master Sandeman was pleased to say was nigh as elegant as George Buchanan's. Also I was privileged to discover certain notable emendations in the text of this work, which I sent in ma.n.u.script to the famous Schookius of Groningen, who incorporated them in his edition then in preparation, but after the fashion of Dutchmen sent me no thanks.

As regards philosophy, which I hold the most divine of all studies, I was in my first year a most earnest Platonic; nay, I went farther than the master himself, as is the way of all little minds when they seek to comprehend a great one. In those days I went about in sober attire and strove in all things to order my life according to the rules of philosophy, seeking to free myself from all disturbing outside powers and live the life of pure contemplation. I looked back with unutterable contempt on my past as a turbid and confused medley, nor did I seek anything better in life than quiet and leisure for thought and study.

In such a condition I spent the first month of my stay at Glasgow.

Then the Platonic fit left me and I was all for Aristotle and the Peripatetics. Here, at last, thought I, have I got the _sicc.u.m lumen_, which Herac.l.i.tus spoke of: and his distinct and subtle reasoning seemed to me to be above doubt. And indeed I have never wondered at the schoolmen and others who looked upon Aristotle as having reached the height of human wisdom, for his method is so all-embracing and satisfying that it breeds wonder in the heart of any man; and it affords so sure a bottom for thought that men become Aristotelians.

In the midsummer months I went down to Tweeddale again, where I astonished my father and all in the place with my new learning, and also grieved them. For I had no love for fishing or shooting; I would scarce ride two miles for the pleasure of it; my father's tales, in which I delighted before, had grown tiresome; and I had no liking for anything save bending over books. When I went to Dawyck to see Marjory, she knew not what had come over me, I was so full of whims and fancies. "O John," she said, "your face is as white as a woman's, and you have such a horrible cloak. Go and get another at once, you silly boy, and not shame your friends." Yet even Marjory had little power over me, for I heeded her not, though aforetime I would have ridden posthaste to Peebles and got me a new suit, and painted my face if I had thought that thereby I would pleasure her.

When the autumn came again I returned to college more inclined than ever for the life of a scholar. I fell to my studies with renewed zeal, and would doubtless have killed myself with work had I not been nearly killed with the fever, which made me more careful of my health. And now, like the weatherc.o.c.k I was, my beliefs shifted yet again. For studying the schoolmen, who were the great upholders of Aristotle, I found in them so many contradictions and phantasies which they fathered on their master that, after reading the diatribes of Peter Ramus and others against him, I was almost persuaded that I had been grievously misled. Then, at last, I saw hat the fault lay not in Aristotle but in his followers, who sought to find in him things that were beyond the compa.s.s of his thought. So by degrees I came round toward the new philosophy, which a party in the college upheld. They swore by the great names of Bacon and Galileo and the other natural philosophers, but I hesitated to follow them, for they seemed to me to disdain all mental philosophy, which I hold is the greater study. I was of this way of thinking when I fell in one day with an English book, a translation of a work by a Frenchman, one Renatus Descartes, published in London in the year 1649. It gave an account of the progress in philosophy of this man, who followed no school, but, clearing his mind of all presuppositions, inst.i.tuted a method for himself. This marked for me the turning point; for I gave in my allegiance without hesitation to this philosopher, and ever since I have held by his system with some modifications. It is needless for me to enter further into my philosophy, for I have by me a written exposition of the works of this Descartes with my own additions, which I intend, if G.o.d so please, to give soon to the world.

For two years I abode at the college, thinking that I was destined by nature for a studious life, and harbouring thoughts of going to the university of Saumur to complete my studies. I thought that my spirit was chastened to a fit degree, and so no doubt it was, for those who had feared me at first on account of my heavy fist and straightforward ways, now openly scoffed at me without fear of punishment. Indeed, one went so far one day as to jostle me off the causeway, and I made no return, but went on as if nothing had happened, deeming it beneath a wise man to be distracted by mundane trifles. Yet, mind you, in all this there was nothing Christian or like unto the meekness of our Master, as I have seen in some men; but rather an absurd attempt to imitate those who would have lived very differently had their lot been cast in our hot and turbid days.

How all this was changed and I veered round of a sudden to the opposite I must hasten to tell. One April day, towards the close of my second year, I was going up the High Street toward the Cathedral with a great parcel of books beneath my arm, when I heard a shouting and a jingling, and a troop of horse came down the street. I stood back into the shelter of a doorway, for soldiers were wont to bear little love to scholars, and I did not care to risk their rough jests. From this place I watched their progress, and a gallant sight it was. Some twenty men in buff jerkins and steel headpieces rode with a fine clatter of bridles and clank of swords. I marked their fierce sun-brown faces and their daredevil eyes as they looked haughtily down on the crowd as on lower beings. And especially I marked their leader. He sat a fine bay horse with ease and grace; his plumed hat set off his high-coloured face and long brown curls worn in the fashion of the day; and as he rode he bowed to the people with large condescension. He was past in a second, but not before I had recognized the face and figure of my cousin Gilbert.

I stood for some minutes staring before me, while the echoes of the horses' hooves died away down the street. This, I thought, is the destiny of my cousin, only two years my elder, a soldier, a gentleman, a great man in his place; while I am but a nameless scholar, dreaming away my manhood in the pursuits of a dotard. I was so overwhelmed with confusion that I stood gaping with a legion of thoughts and opposing feelings running through my brain. Then all the old fighting spirit of my house rose within me. By Heaven, I would make an end of this; I would get me home without delay; I would fling my books into the Clyde; I would go to the wars; I would be a great cavalier, and, by the Lord, I would keep up the name of the house! I was astonished myself at the sudden change in my feelings, for in the s.p.a.ce of some ten minutes a whole age had pa.s.sed for me, and I had grown from a boy to some measure of manhood. I came out from the close-mouth with my head in the air and defiance against all the world in my eye.

Before I had gone five s.p.a.ces I met the lad who had jostled me aforetime, a big fellow of a raw-boned Ayrshire house, and before he could speak I had him by the arm and had pulled him across the way into the college gardens. There I found a quiet green place, and plucking off my coat I said, "Now, Master Dalrymple, you and I have a small account to settle." With that we fell to with our fists, and in the s.p.a.ce of a quarter of an hour I had beaten him so grievously that he was fain to cry for mercy. I let him go, and with much whimpering he slunk away in disgust.

Then I went into the town and bought myself a new blade and a fine suit of clothes-all with the greatest gusto and lightness of heart. I went to the inn where Maisie was stabled and bade them have her ready for me at the college gate in an hour. Then I bade good-bye to all my friends, but especially to Master Sandeman, from whom I was loth to part. I did not fling my books into the Clyde as at first I proposed, but left injunctions that they were to be sent by the carrier. So, having paid all my debts, for my father had kept me well appointed with money, I waved a long farewell and set out for my own country.

CHAPTER V

COUSINLY AFFECTION

It was near midday before I started, so that night I got no farther than the town of Hamilton, but lay at the inn there. The next morning I left betimes, thinking to reach Barns in the afternoon. As I rode along the green sward by the side of Clyde, the larks were singing in the sky and the trout were plashing in the waters, and all the world was gay. The apple orchards sent their blossom across the road, and my hat brushed it down in showers on my horse and myself, so that soon we rode in a mail of pink and white. I plucked a little branch and set it in my hat, and sang all the songs I knew as I cantered along. I cried good-day to every man, and flung money to the little children who shouted as I pa.s.sed, so that I believe if there had been many more boys on the road I would have reached Tweeddale a beggar. At Crossford, where the Nethan meets the Clyde, I met a man who had been to the salmon-fishing and had caught a big salmon-trout; and as I looked, my old love for the sport awoke within me, and I longed to feel a rod in my hand. It was good to be alive, to taste the fresh air, to feel the sun and wind, and I cried a plague on all close lecture-rooms and musty books.

At Lanark I had a rare dinner at the hostel there. The grey old inn had excellent fare, as I knew of old, so I rode up to the door and demanded its best. It was blessed to see a man obey your words after for many months being a servant of others. I had a dish of well-fed trout and a piece of prime mutton and as good claret, I think, as I have ever tasted. Then I rode over Lanark Moor to Hyndford and through the moor of Carmichael and under the great shadow of Tintock. Here the smell of burning heather came to my nostrils, and so dear and homelike did it seem that I could have wept for very pleasure. The whaups and snipe were making a fine to-do on the bent, and the black-faced sheep grazed in peace. At the top of the knowe above Symington I halted, for there before my eyes were the blue hills of Tweeddale. There was Trehenna and the hills above Broughton, and Drummelzier Law and Glenstivon Dod, and nearer, the great Caerdon; and beyond all a long blue back which I knew could be none other than the hill of Sc.r.a.pe which shadowed Dawyck and my lady.

I came to Barns at three o'clock in the afternoon, somewhat stiff from my ride, but elated with my home-coming. It was with strange feelings that I rode up the long avenue of beeches, every one of which I could have told blindfold. The cattle looked over the palings at me as if glad to see me return. Maisie c.o.c.ked up her ears at the hares in the gra.s.s, and sniffed the hill air as if she had been in a prison for many days. And when I came to the bend of the road and saw the old weatherbeaten tower, my heart gave a great leap within me, for we Tweeddale men dearly love our own countryside, doubtless by reason of its exceeding beauty.

As I rode up Tam Todd came out from the back, and seeing me, let fall the water which he was carrying and ran to my side.

"Eh, Maister John," said he, "I'm blithe to see ye back, sae braw and genty-like. My airm's fair like timmer wi' stiffness for want o' the backsword play, and the troots in Tweed are turned as thick as peas for want o' you to haul them oot; and twae mornings last week there were deer keekin' in at the front-door as tame as kittlins. There's muckle need o' ye at hame."

He would have gone on in this strain for an hour, had I not cut him short by asking for my father.

"Middlin', just middlin'. He misses ye sair. He'll scarce gang out-doors noo, but he'll be a' richt gin he sees ye again. Oh, and I've something mair to tell ye. That wanchancy cousin o' yours, Maister Gilbert, cam yestreen, and he'll be bidin' till the deil kens when.

I'se warrant he's at meat wi' the auld maister the noo, for he cam in frae the hills geyan hungry."

Now at this intelligence I was not over-pleased. My cousin was a great man and a gentleman, but never at any time over-friendly to me, and I knew that to my father he was like salt in the mouth. I blamed the ill-luck which had sent him to Barns on the very day of my home-coming.

I needs must be on my dignity in his company, for he was quick to find matter for laughter, and it was hard that he should come at the time when I longed so eagerly for the free ways of the house. However, there was no help for it, I reflected, and went in.

In the pa.s.sage I met Jean Morran, my old nurse, who had heard the sound of voices, and come out to see who the newcomer might be. "Maister John, Maister John, and is't yoursel'? It's a glad day for the house o'

Barns when you come back"; and when I gave her the shawl-pin I had brought her from Glasgow, she had scarce any words to thank me with. So, knowing that my father would be in the dining-hall with his guest, I opened the door and walked in unbidden.

My father sat at the head of the long oak table which had been scoured to a light-brown and shone like polished stone. Claret, his favourite drink, was in a tankard by his elbow, and many wines decked the board.

Lower down sat my cousin, gallantly dressed in the fashion of the times, with a coat of fine Spanish leather and small-clothes of some rich dark stuff. His plumed hat and riding cloak of purple velvet lay on the settle at his side. His brown hair fell over his collar and shoulders and well set off his strong, brown face. He sat after the fashion of a soldier, on the side of his chair half-turned away from the table, and every now and then he would cast a piece of meat to Pierce, my old hound, who lay stretched by the fireplace.

My father turned round as I entered, and when he saw me his face glowed with pleasure. Had we been alone we should have met otherwise, but it is not meet to show one's feelings before a stranger, even though that stranger be one of the family. He contented himself with looking eagerly upon me and bidding me welcome in a shaking voice. I marked with grief that his eye did not seem so keen and brave as before, and that he was scarce able to rise from his chair.

My cousin half arose and made me a grand bow in his courtly fashion.

"Welcome, my dear cousin," said he. "I am glad to see that your studies have had little effect on your face." (I was flushed with hard riding.) "You look as if you had just come from a campaign. But fall to. Here are prime fish which I can commend; and venison, also good, though I have had better. Here, too, is wine, and I drink to your success, my learned cousin"; and he filled his gla.s.s and drank it at a gulp. He spoke in a half-bantering tone, though his words were kindly. I answered him briskly.

"I had little thought to find you here, Gilbert, but I am right glad to see you. You are prospering mightily, I hear, and will soon be forgetting your poor cousins of Barns"; and after a few more words I set myself to give my father a history of my doings at Glasgow College.

Again, had we been alone, I should have told him my causes for leaving and my wishes for my after life, but since my cousin was present, who had ever a sharp tongue, I judged it better to say nothing.

I told my father all that I could think of, and then asked how he had fared in my absence, for I had had but few letters, and what of note had happened at Barns.

"Ay, John," he said, "I'm an old man. I fear that my life here will be short. I scarce can get outside without Tam Todd to lean on, and I have little sleep o' nights. And John, I could wish that you would bide at home now, for I like to see you beside me, and you'll have learned all the folk of Glasgow have to teach you. I once wished you a soldier, but I am glad now that I let the thing blow by, for I would have cared little to have you coming here but once in the six months, for a flying visit."

"Nay, uncle," said my cousin, "you do not put the matter fairly. For myself, I believe there is none busier in Scotland than I, but, Gad, I have always time to slip home to Eaglesham for a day or more. But my father would care little though he never saw me but once in the year, for each time I go back I get a long sermon on my conduct, with my expenses for the year as a text, till I am fairly driven out of the house for peace."

At this my father laughed. "Ay, ay," said he, "that's like my brother Gilbert. He was always a hard man at the siller. Man, I mind when we were both the terrors o' the place, but all the while not a thing would he do, if it meant the loss of a bodle. Pity but I had taken after him in that, and John would have been better supplied to-day."

"Oh," I answered, "I have all I need and more."

Hereupon my cousin spoke with a sneer in his voice. "A groat is enough for a scholar, but the soldier must have a crown. Your scholar, as doubtless John can tell, is content if he have a sad-coloured suit, some musty books, and a stoup of bad wine; but your fine gentleman must have his horses and servants, and dress himself like his quality for all the maids to stare at, and have plenty of loose silver to fling to the gaping crowd; and he is a poor fellow indeed if he do not eat and drink the best that each tavern can give. As for me, I would as soon be a clown in the fields as a scholar, with apologies to my cousin"; and he made me another of his mocking bows.

I answered as gently as I could that gentrice did not consist in daintiness of eating and drinking or boisterous display, and that in my opinion nothing gave so fine a flavour to gentility as a tincture of letters; but my father changed the conversation by asking Gilbert what he had been after that day.

"'Faith, it would be hard to say," said he. "I got a gun from that long-legged, sour-faced groom and went up the big hill above the trees to have a shot at something. I killed a couple of hares and sprung an old muirfowl; but the day grew warm and I thought that the wood would make a pleasant shade, so I e'en turned my steps there and went to sleep below a great oak, and dreamed that I ran a man through the bowels for challenging my courage. It was an ill-omened dream, and I expected to meet with some mishap to account for it ere I got back, but I saw nothing except a lovely girl plucking primroses by the water side.

Zounds, Jock, what a fool you must be never to have found out this beauty! She had hair like gold and eyes like sapphires. I've seen many a good-looking wench, but never one like her."

"And what did you do?" I asked, with my heart beating wildly.

"Do," he laughed. "Your scholar would have pa.s.sed in silence and written odes to her as Venus or Helen for months; whereas I took off my bonnet and made haste to enter into polite conversation. But this girl would have none of me; she's a rose, I warrant, with a pretty setting of thorns. She tripped away, and when I made to follow her, became Madam Fine-airs at once, and declared that her servants were within easy reach, so I had better have a care of my conduct."

My father shot a sharp glance at me, and addressed my cousin. "The maid would be Marjory Veitch, old Sir John's daughter, at Dawyck. He, poor man, has gone to his account, and her brother is abroad, so the poor girl is lonely enough in that great house. John and she have been friends from the time they were children. She has come here, too, and a pretty, modest la.s.s she is, though she favours her mother rather than her father's folk."

At this intelligence my cousin whistled long and low. "So, so," said he, "my scholar has an eye in his head, has he? And Dawyck is not far off, and-well, no wonder you do not care for the military profession.

Though, let me tell you, it is as well for the course of true love that there are few cavaliers in this countryside, else Mistress Marjory might have higher notions."