Rob Roy (12 page)

‘Up with it, then,' said the Justice, ‘or, by St. Christopher, you shall crack the cocoa-nut full of salt-and-water, according to the statute for such effect made and provided.'

Thus exhorted and threatened, my quondam fellow-traveller, for I could no longer doubt that he was the recusant in question, uplifted, with a voice similar to that of a criminal singing his last psalm on the scaffold, a most doleful stave to the following effect:

‘Good people all, I pray give ear,

A woful story you shall hear,

'Tis of a robber as stout as ever

Bade a true man stand and deliver.

With his foodie doo fa loodle loo.

‘This knave, most worthy of a cord,

Being arm'd with pistol and with sword,

'Twixt Kensington and Brentford then

Did boldly stop six honest men.

With his foodle doo, &c.

‘These honest men did at Brentford dine,

Having drank each man his pint of wine,

When this bold thief, with many curses,

Did say, You dogs, your lives or purses.

With his foodle doo,' &c.

I question if the honest men, whose misfortune is commemorated in this pathetic ditty, were more startled at the appearance of the bold thief, than the songster was at mine; for, tired of waiting for some one to announce me, and finding my situation as a listener rather awkward, I presented myself to the company just as my friend Mr. Morris, for such, it seems, was his name, was uplifting the fifth stave of his doleful ballad. The high tone, with which the tune started, died away in a quaver of consternation, on finding himself so near one whose character he supposed to be little less suspicious than that of the hero of his madrigal, and he remained silent, with a mouth gaping as if I had brought the Gorgon's head in my hand.

The Justice, whose eyes had closed under the influence of the somniferous lullaby of the song, started up in his chair as it suddenly ceased, and stared with wonder at the unexpected addition which the company had received, while his organs of sight were in abeyance. The clerk, as I conjectured him to be from his appearance, was also commoved; for, sitting opposite to Mr. Morris, that honest gentleman's terror communicated itself to him, though he wotted not why.

I broke the silence of surprise occasioned by my abrupt entrance.—‘My name, Mr. Inglewood, is Francis Osbaldistone; I understand that some scoundrel has brought a complaint
before you, charging me with being concerned in a loss which he says he has sustained.'

‘Sir,' said the Justice, somewhat peevishly, ‘these are matters I never enter upon after dinner—there is a time for every thing, and a justice of peace must eat as well as other folks.'

The goodly person of Mr. Inglewood, by the way, seemed by no means to have suffered by any fasts, whether in the service of the law or of religion.

‘I beg pardon for an ill-timed visit, sir; but as my reputation is concerned, and as the dinner appears to be concluded——'

‘It is not concluded, sir,' replied the magistrate; ‘man requires digestion as well as food, and I protest I cannot have benefit from my victuals, unless I am allowed two hours of quiet leisure, intermixed with harmless mirth, and a moderate circulation of the bottle.'

‘If your honour will forgive me,' said Mr. Jobson, who had produced and arranged his writing implements in the brief space that our conversation afforded; ‘as this is a case of felony, and the gentleman seems something impatient, the charge is
contra pacem domini regis
——'

‘D—n
dominie regis!'
said the impatient Justice—‘I hope it's no treason to say so;—but it's enough to make one mad to be worried in this way. Have I a moment of my life quiet, for warrants, orders, directions, acts, bails, bonds, and recognisances?—I pronounce to you, Mr. Jobson, that I shall send you and the justiceship to the devil one of these days.'

‘Your honour will consider the dignity of the office—one of the quorum and custos rotulorum, an office of which Sir Edward Coke wisely saith, The whole Christain world hath not the like of it, so it be duly executed.'

‘Well,' said the Justice, partly reconciled by this eulogium
on the dignity of his situation, and gulping down the rest of his dissatisfaction in a huge bumper of claret, ‘let us to this gear then, and get rid of it as fast as we can.—Here you, sir—you, Morris—you, knight of the sorrowful countenance—is this Mr. Francis Osbaldistone the gentleman whom you charge with being art and part of felony?'

‘I, sir?' replied Morris, whose scattered wits had hardly yet re-assembled themselves—‘I charge nothing—I say nothing against the gentleman.'

‘Then we dismiss your complaint, sir, that's all, and a good riddance—Push about the bottle—Mr. Osbaldistone, help yourself.'

Jobson, however, was determined that Morris should not back out of the scrape, so easily. ‘What do you mean, Mr. Morris?—Here is your own declaration—the ink scarce dried—and you would retract it in this scandalous manner!'

‘How do I know,' whispered the other, in a tremulous tone, ‘how many rogues are in the house to back him?—I have read of such things in Johnson's Lives of the Highwaymen. I protest the door opens——'

And it did open, and Diana Vernon entered—‘You keep fine order here, Justice—not a servant to be seen or heard of.'

‘Ah!' said the Justice, starting up with an alacrity, which showed that he was not so engrossed by his devotions to Themis, or Comus, as to forget what was due to beauty— ‘Ah, ha! Die Vernon, the heath-bell of Cheviot, and the blossom of the Border, come to see how the old bachelor keeps house?—Art welcome, girl, as flowers in May.'

‘A fine, open, hospitable house you do keep, Justice, that must be allowed—not a soul to answer a visitor.'

‘Ah! the knaves, they reckoned themselves secure of me for a couple of hours—But why did you not come earlier?—Your cousin Rashleigh dined here, and ran away like a poltroon after the first bottle was out—But you have not
dined—we'll have something nice and ladylike—sweet and pretty, like yourself, tossed up in a trice.'

‘I may eat a crust in the anteroom before I set out.' answered Miss Vernon—‘I have had a long ride this morning; but I can't stay long, Justice—I came with my cousin, Frank Osbaldistone, there, and I must show him the way back again to the Hall, or he'll lose himself in the wolds.'

‘Whew! sits the wind in that quarter?' enquired the Justice.

‘“She show'd him the way, and she show'd him the way,

She show'd him the way to woo.”

What! no luck for old fellows, then, my sweet bud of the wilderness?'

‘None whatever, Squire Inglewood; but if you will be a good kind Justice, and dispatch young Frank's business, and let us canter home again, I'll bring my uncle to dine with you next week, and we'll expect merry doings.'

‘And you shall find them, my pearl of the Tyne—Zookers, lass, I never envy these young fellows their rides and scampers, unless when you come across me. But I must not keep you just now, I suppose?—I am quite satisfied with Mr. Francis Osbaldistone's explanation—here has been some mistake, which can be cleared at greater leisure.'

‘Pardon me, sir,' said I, ‘but I have not heard the nature of the accusation yet.'

‘Yes, sir,' said the clerk, who, at the appearance of Miss Vernon, had given up the matter in despair, but who picked up courage to press farther investigation, on finding himself supported from a quarter whence assuredly he expected no backing—‘Yes, sir, and Dalton saith, That he who is apprehended as a felon shall not be discharged upon any man's discretion, but shall be held either to bail or commitment, paying to the clerk of the peace the usual fees for recognisance or commitment.'

The Justice, thus goaded on, gave me at length a few words of explanation.

It seems the tricks which I had played to this man Morris, had made a strong impression on his imagination; for I found they had been arrayed against me in his evidence, with all the exaggeration which a timorous and heated imagination could suggest. It appeared also, that, on the day he parted from me, he had been stopped on a solitary spot, and eased of his beloved travelling-companion, the portmanteau, by two men, well mounted and armed, having their faces covered with vizards.

One of them, he conceived, had much of my shape and air, and in a whispering conversation which took place betwixt the freebooters, he heard the other apply to him the name of Osbaldistone. The declaration farther set forth, that upon enquiring into the principles of the family so named, he, the said declarant, was informed, that they were of the worst description, the family, in all its members, having been Papists and Jacobites, as he was given to understand by the dissenting clergyman at whose house he stopped after his rencontre, since the days of William the Conqueror.

Upon all and each of these weighty reasons, he charged me with being accessory to the felony committed upon his person; he, the said declarant, then travelling in the special employment of government, and having charge of certain important papers, and also a large sum in specie, to be paid over, according to his instructions, to certain persons of official trust and importance in Scotland.

Having heard this extraordinary accusation, I replied to it, that the circumstances on which it was founded were such as could warrant no justice, or magistrate, in any attempt on my personal liberty. I admitted that I had practised a little upon the terrors of Mr. Morris, while we travelled together, but in such trifling particulars as could have
excited apprehension in no one who was one whit less timorous and jealous than himself. But I added, that I had never seen him since we parted, and if that which he feared had really come upon him, I was in nowise accessory to an action so unworthy of my character and station in life. That one of the robbers was called Osbaldistone, or that such a name was mentioned in the course of the conversation betwixt them, was a trifling circumstance, to which no weight was due. And concerning the disaffection alleged against me, I was willing to prove, to the satisfaction of the Justice, the clerk, and even the witness himself, that I was of the same persuasion as his friend the dissenting clergyman; had been educated as a good subject in the principles of the Revolution, and as such now demanded the personal protection of the laws which had been assured by that great event.

The Justice fidgeted, took snuff, and seemed considerably embarrassed, while Mr. Attorney Jobson, with all the volubility of his profession, ran over the statute of the 34 Edward III., by which justices of the peace are allowed to arrest all those whom they find by indictment or suspicion, and to put them into prison. The rogue even turned my own admissions against me, alleging, ‘that since I had confessedly, upon my own showing, assumed the bearing or deportment of a robber or malefactor, I had voluntarily subjected myself to the suspicions of which I had complained, and brought myself within the compass of the act, having wilfully clothed my conduct with all the colour and livery of guilt.'

I combated both his arguments and his jargon with much indignation and scorn, and observed, ‘that I should, if necessary, produce the bail of my relations, which I conceived could not be refused, without subjecting the magistrate in a misdemeanour.'

‘Pardon me, my good sir,—pardon me,' said the insatiable clerk, ‘this is a case in which neither bail nor mainprize can be received, the felon who is liable to be committed on heavy grounds of suspicion, not being replevisable under the statute of the 3rd of King Edward, there being in that act an express exception of such as be charged of commandment, or force, and aid of felony done;' and he hinted, that his worship would do well to remember that such were in no way replevisable by common writ, nor without writ.

At this period of the conversation a servant entered, and delivered a letter to Mr. Jobson. He had no sooner run it hastily over, than he exclaimed, with the air of one who wished to appear much vexed at the interruption, and felt the consequence attached to a man of multifarious avocations—‘Good God!—why, at this rate, I shall have neither time to attend to the public concerns nor my own—no rest—no quiet—I wish to Heaven another gentleman in our line would settle here!'

‘God forbid!' said the Justice, in a tone of
sotte-voce
deprecation; ‘some of us have enough of one of the tribe.'

‘This is a matter of life and death, if your worship pleases.'

‘In God's name! no more justice business, I hope,' said the alarmed magistrate.

‘No—no,' replied Mr. Jobson, very consequentially; ‘old Gaffer Rutledge of Grime's-hill is subpoena'd for the next world; he has sent an express for Dr. Kill-down to put in bail—another for me to arrange his worldly affairs.'

‘Away with you, then,' said Mr. Inglewood hastily; ‘his may not be a replevisable case under the statute, you know, or Mr. Justice Death may not like the doctor for a
main pernor,
or bailsman.'

‘And yet,' said Jobson, lingering as he moved towards the
door, ‘if my presence here be necessary—I could make out the warrant for committal in a moment, and the constable is below—And you have heard,' he said, lowering his voice, ‘Mr. Rashleigh's opinion'—the rest was lost in a whisper.

The Justice replied aloud, ‘I tell thee no, man, no—we'll nought till thou return, man; 'tis but a four-mile ride—Come, push the bottle, Mr. Morris—Don't be cast down, Mr. Osbaldistone—And you, my rose of the wilderness—one cup of claret to refresh the bloom of your cheeks.'

Diana started, as if from a reverie, in which she appeared to have been plunged while we held this discussion. ‘No, Justice, I should be afraid of transferring the bloom to a part of my face where it would show to little advantage. But I will pledge you in a cooler beverage;' and, filling a glass with water, she drank it hastily, while her hurried manner belied her assumed gaiety.