Chapter 2

They being both children of adoption, and secured from falling into
snares, or anyway under the power of the wicked one, it was their
custom, on each visit, to sit up a night in the same apartment, for the
sake of sweet spiritual converse; but that time, in the course of the
night, they differed so materially on a small point somewhere between
justification and final election that the minister, in the heat of his
zeal, sprung from his seat, paced the floor, and maintained his point
with such ardour that Martha was alarmed, and, thinking they were going
to fight, and that the minister would be a hard match for her mistress,
she put on some clothes, and twice left her bed and stood listening at
the back of the door, ready to burst in should need require it. Should
anyone think this picture over-strained, I can assure him that it is
taken from nature and from truth; but I will not likewise aver that the
theologist was neither crazed nor inebriated. If the listener's words
were to be relied on, there was no love, no accommodating principle
manifested between the two, but a fiery burning zeal, relating to
points of such minor importance that a true Christian would blush to
hear them mentioned, and the infidel and profane make a handle of them
to turn our religion to scorn.

Great was the dame's exultation at the triumph of her beloved pastor
over her sinful neighbours in the lower parts of the house; and she
boasted of it to Martha in high-sounding terms. But it was of short
duration; for, in five weeks after that, Arabella Logan came to reside
with the laird as his housekeeper, sitting at his table and carrying
the keys as mistress-substitute of the mansion. The lady's grief and
indignation were now raised to a higher pitch than ever; and she set
every agent to work, with whom she had any power, to effect a
separation between these two suspected ones. Remonstrance was of no
avail: George laughed at them who tried such a course, and retained his
housekeeper, while the lady gave herself up to utter despair; for,
though she would not consort with her husband herself, she could not
endure that any other should do so.

But, to countervail this grievous offence, our saintly and afflicted
dame, in due time, was safely delivered of a fine boy whom the laird
acknowledged as his son and heir, and had him christened by his own
name, and nursed in his own premises. He gave the nurse permission to
take the boy to his mother's presence if ever she should desire to see
him; but, strange as it may appear, she never once desired to see him
from the day that he was born. The boy grew up, and was a healthful and
happy child; and, in the course of another year, the lady presented him
with a brother. A brother he certainly was, in the eye of the law, and
it is more than probable that he was his brother in reality. But the
laird thought otherwise; and, though he knew and acknowledged that he
was obliged to support and provide for him, he refused to acknowledge
him in other respects. He neither would countenance the banquet nor
take the baptismal vows on him in the child's name; of course, the poor
boy had to live and remain an alien from the visible church for a year
and a day; at which time, Mr. Wringhim out of pity and kindness, took
the lady herself as sponsor for the boy, and baptized him by the name
of Robert Wringhim--that being the noted divine's own name.

George was brought up with his father, and educated partly at the
parish school, and partly at home, by a tutor hired for the purpose. He
was a generous and kind-hearted youth; always ready to oblige, and
hardly ever dissatisfied with anybody. Robert was brought up with Mr.
Wringhim, the laird paying a certain allowance for him yearly; and
there the boy was early inured to all the sternness and severity of his
pastor's arbitrary and unyielding creed. He was taught to pray twice
every day, and seven times on Sabbath days; but he was only to pray for
the elect, and, like Devil of old, doom all that were aliens from God
to destruction. He had never, in that family into which he had been as
it were adopted, heard aught but evil spoken of his reputed father and
brother; consequently he held them in utter abhorrence, and prayed
against them every day, often "that the old hoary sinner might be cut
off in the full flush of his iniquity, and be carried quick into hell;
and that the young stem of the corrupt trunk might also be taken from a
world that he disgraced, but that his sins might be pardoned, because
he knew no better."

Such were the tenets in which it would appear young Robert was bred. He
was an acute boy, an excellent learner, had ardent and ungovernable
passions, and, withal, a sternness of demeanour from which other boys
shrunk. He was the best grammarian, the best reader, writer, and
accountant in the various classes that he attended, and was fond of
writing essays on controverted points of theology, for which he got
prizes, and great praise from his guardian and mother. George was much
behind him in scholastic acquirements, but greatly his superior in
personal prowess, form, feature, and all that constitutes gentility in
the deportment and appearance. The laird had often manifested to Miss
Logan an earnest wish that the two young men should never meet, or at
all events that they should be as little conversant as possible; and
Miss Logan, who was as much attached to George as if he had been her
own son, took every precaution, while he was a boy, that he should
never meet with his brother; but, as they advanced towards manhood,
this became impracticable. The lady was removed from her apartments in
her husband's house to Glasgow, to her great content; and all to
prevent the young laird being tainted with the company of her and her
second son; for the laird had felt the effects of the principles they
professed, and dreaded them more than persecution, fire, and sword.
During all the dreadful times that had overpast, though the laird had
been a moderate man, he had still leaned to the side of kingly
prerogative, and had escaped confiscation and fines, without ever
taking any active hand in suppressing the Covenanters. But, after
experiencing a specimen of their tenets and manner in his wife, from a
secret favourer of them and their doctrines, he grew alarmed at the
prevalence of such stern and factious principles, now that there was no
check or restraint upon them; and from that time he began to set
himself against them, joining with the Cavalier party of that day in
all their proceedings.

It so happened that, under the influence of the Earls of Seafield and
Tullibardine, he was returned for a Member of Parliament in the famous
session that sat at Edinburgh when the Duke of Queensberry was
commissioner, and in which party spirit ran to such an extremity. The
young laird went with his father to the court, and remained in town all
the time that the session lasted; and, as all interested people of both
factions flocked to the town at that period, so the important Mr.
Wringhim was there among the rest, during the greater part of the time,
blowing the coal of revolutionary principles with all his might, in
every society to which he could obtain admission. He was a great
favourite with some of the west country gentlemen of that faction, by
reason of his unbending impudence. No opposition could for a moment
cause him either to blush, or retract one item that he had advanced.
Therefore the Duke of Argyle and his friends made such use of him as
sportsmen often do of terriers, to start the game, and make a great
yelping noise to let them know whither the chase is proceeding. They
often did this out of sport, in order to tease their opponent; for of
all pesterers that ever fastened on man he was the most insufferable:
knowing that his coat protected him from manual chastisement, he spared
no acrimony, and delighted in the chagrin and anger of those with whom
he contended. But he was sometimes likewise of real use to the heads of
the Presbyterian faction, and therefore was admitted to their tables,
and of course conceived himself a very great man.

His ward accompanied him; and, very shortly after their arrival in
Edinburgh, Robert, for the first time, met with the young laird his
brother, in a match at tennis. The prowess and agility of the young
squire drew forth the loudest plaudits of approval from his associates,
and his own exertion alone carried the game every time on the one side,
and that so far as all I along to count three for their one. The hero's
name soon ran round the circle, and when his brother Robert, who was an
onlooker, learned who it was that was gaining so much applause, he came
and stood close beside him all the time that the game lasted, always
now and then putting in a cutting remark by way of mockery.

George could not help perceiving him, not only on account of his
impertinent remarks, but he, moreover, stood so near him that he
several times impeded him in his rapid evolutions, and of course got
himself shoved aside in no very ceremonious way. Instead of making him
keep his distance, these rude shocks and pushes, accompanied sometimes
with hasty curses, only made him cling the closer to this king of the
game. He seemed determined to maintain his right to his place as an
onlooker, as well as any of those engaged in the game, and, if they had
tried him at an argument, he would have carried his point; or perhaps
he wished to quarrel with this spark of his jealousy and aversion, and
draw the attention of the gay crowd to himself by these means; for,
like his guardian, he knew no other pleasure but what consisted in
opposition. George took him for some impertinent student of divinity,
rather set upon a joke than anything else. He perceived a lad with
black clothes, and a methodistical face, whose countenance and eye he
disliked exceedingly, several times in his way, and that was all the
notice he took of him the first time they two met. But the next day,
and every succeeding one, the same devilish-looking youth attended him
as constantly as his shadow; was always in his way as with intention to
impede him and ever and anon his deep and malignant eye met those of
his elder brother with a glance so fierce that it sometimes startled
him.

The very next time that George was engaged at tennis, he had not struck
the ball above twice till the same intrusive being was again in his
way. The party played for considerable stakes that day, namely, a
dinner and wine at the Black Bull tavern; and George, as the hero and
head of his party, was much interested in its honour; consequently the
sight of this moody and hellish-looking student affected him in no very
pleasant manner. "Pray Sir, be so good as keep without the range of the
ball," said he.

"Is there any law or enactment that can compel me to do so?" said the
other, biting his lip with scorn.

"If there is not, they are here that shall compel you," returned
George. "So, friend, I rede you to be on your guard."

As he said this, a flush of anger glowed in his handsome face and
flashed from his sparkling blue eye; but it was a stranger to both, and
momently took its departure. The black-coated youth set up his cap
before, brought his heavy brows over his deep dark eyes, put his hands
in the pockets of his black plush breeches, and stepped a little
farther into the semicircle, immediately on his brother's right hand,
than he had ever ventured to do before. There he set himself firm on
his legs, and, with a face as demure as death, seemed determined to
keep his ground. He pretended to be following the ball with his eyes;
but every moment they were glancing aside at George. One of the
competitors chanced to say rashly, in the moment of exultation, "That's
a d--d fine blow, George!" On which the intruder took up the word, as
characteristic of the competitors, and repeated it every stroke that
was given, making such a ludicrous use of it that several of the
onlookers were compelled to laugh immoderately; but the players were
terribly nettled at it, as he really contrived, by dint of sliding in
some canonical terms, to render the competitors and their game
ridiculous.

But matters at length came to a crisis that put them beyond sport.
George, in flying backward to gain the point at which the ball was
going to light, came inadvertently so rudely in contact with this
obstreperous interloper that lie not only overthrew him, but also got a
grievous fall over his legs; and, as he arose, the other made a spurn
at him with his foot, which, if it had hit to its aim, would
undoubtedly have finished the course of the young laird of Dalcastle
and Balgrennan. George, being irritated beyond measure, as may well be
conceived, especially at the deadly stroke aimed at him, struck the
assailant with his racket, rather slightly, but so that his mouth and
nose gushed out blood; and, at the same time, he said, turning to his
cronies: "Does any of you know who the infernal puppy is?"

"Do you know, Sir?" said one of the onlookers, a stranger, "the
gentleman is your own brother, Sir--Mr. Robert Wringhim Colwan!"

"No, not Colwan, Sir," said Robert, putting his hands in his pockets,
and setting himself still farther forward than before, "not a Colwan,
Sir; henceforth I disclaim the name."

"No, certainly not," repeated George. "My mother's son you may be--but
not a Colwan! There you are right." Then, turning around to his
informer, he said: "Mercy be about us, Sir! Is this the crazy
minister's son from Glasgow?"

This question was put in the irritation of the moment, but it was too
rude, and far too out of place, and no one deigned any answer to it. He
felt the reproof, and felt it deeply; seeming anxious for some
opportunity to make an acknowledgment, or some reparation.

In the meantime, young Wringhim was an object to all of the uttermost
disgust. The blood flowing from his mouth and nose he took no pains to
stem, neither did he so much as wipe it away; so that it spread over
all his cheeks, and breast, even off at his toes. In that state did he
take up his station in the middle of the competitors; and he did not
now keep his place, but ran about, impeding everyone who attempted to
make at the ball. They loaded him with execrations, but it availed
nothing; he seemed courting persecution and buffetings, keeping
steadfastly to his old joke of damnation, and marring the game so
completely that, in spite of every effort on the part of the players,
he forced them to stop their game and give it up. He was such a
rueful-looking object, covered with blood, that none of them had the
heart to kick him, although it appeared the only thing he wanted; and,
as for George, he said not another word to him, either in anger or
reproof.

When the game was fairly given up, and the party were washing their
hands in the stone fount, some of them besought Robert Wringhim to wash
himself; but he mocked at them, and said he was much better as he was.
George, at length, came forward abashedly towards him, and said: "I
have been greatly to blame, Robert, and am very sorry for what I have
done. But, in the first instance, I erred through ignorance, not
knowing you were my brother, which you certainly are; and, in the
second, through a momentary irritation, for which I am ashamed. I pray
you, therefore, to pardon me, and give me your hand."

As he said this, he held out his hand towards his polluted brother; but
the froward predestinarian took not his from his breeches pocket, but
lifting his foot, he gave his brother's hand a kick. "I'll give you
what will suit such a hand better than mine," said he, with a sneer.
And then, turning lightly about, he added: "Are there to be no more of
these d---d fine blows, gentlemen? For shame, to give up such a
profitable and edifying game!"

"This is too bad," said George. "But, since it is thus, I have the less
to regret." And, having made this general remark, he took no more note
of the uncouth aggressor. But the persecution of the latter terminated
not on the play-ground: he ranked up among them, bloody and disgusting
as he was, and, keeping close by his brother's side, he marched along
with the party all the way to the Black Bull. Before they got there, a
great number of boys and idle people had surrounded them, hooting and
incommoding them exceedingly, so that they were glad to get into the
inn; and the unaccountable monster actually tried to get in alongst
with them, to make one of the party at dinner. But the innkeeper and
his men, getting the hint, by force prevented him from entering,
although he attempted it again and again, both by telling lies and
offering a bribe. Finding he could not prevail, he set to exciting the
mob at the door to acts of violence; in which he had like to have
succeeded. The landlord had no other shift, at last, but to send
privately for two officers, and have him carried to the guard-house;
and the hilarity and joy of the party of young gentlemen, for the
evening, was quite spoiled by the inauspicious termination of their
game.

The Rev. Robert Wringhim was now to send for, to release his beloved
ward. The messenger found him at table, with a number of the leaders of
the Whig faction, the Marquis of Annandale being in the chair; and, the
prisoner's note being produced, Wringhim read it aloud, accompanying it
with some explanatory remarks. The circumstances of the case being thus
magnified and distorted, it excited the utmost abhorrence, both of the
deed and the perpetrators, among the assembled faction. They declaimed
against the act as an unnatural attempt on the character, and even the
life, of an unfortunate brother, who had been expelled from his
father's house. And, as party spirit was the order of the day, an
attempt was made to lay the burden of it to that account. In short, the
young culprit got some of the best blood of the land to enter as his
securities, and was set at liberty. But, when Wringhim perceived the
plight that he was in, he took him, as he was, and presented him to his
honourable patrons. This raised the indignation against the young laird
and his associates a thousand-fold, which actually roused the party to
temporary madness. They were, perhaps, a little excited by the wine and
spirits they had swallowed; else a casual quarrel between two young
men, at tennis, could not have driven them to such extremes. But
certain it is that, from one at first arising to address the party on
the atrocity of the offence, both in a moral and political point of
view, on a sudden there were six on their feet, at the same time,
expatiating on it; and, in a very short time thereafter, everyone in
the room was up talking with the utmost vociferation, all on the same
subject, and all taking the same side in the debate.

In the midst of this confusion, someone or other issued from the house,
which was at the back of the Canongate, calling out: "A plot, a plot!
Treason, treason! Down with the bloody incendiaries at the Black Bull!"

The concourse of people that were assembled in Edinburgh at that time
was prodigious; and, as they were all actuated by political motives,
they wanted only a ready-blown coal to set the mountain on fire. The
evening being fine, and the streets thronged, the cry ran from mouth to
mouth through the whole city. More than that, the mob that had of late
been gathered to the door of the Black Bull had, by degrees, dispersed;
but, they being young men, and idle vagrants, they had only spread
themselves over the rest of the street to lounge in search of further
amusement: consequently, a word was sufficient to send them back to
their late rendezvous, where they had previously witnessed something
they did not much approve of.

The master of the tavern was astonished at seeing the mob again
assembling; and that with such hurry and noise. But, his inmates being
all of the highest respectability, he judged himself sure of
protection, or at least of indemnity. He had two large parties in his
house at the time; the largest of which was of the Revolutionist
faction. The other consisted of our young Tennis-players, and their
associates, who were all of the Jacobite order; or, at all events,
leaned to the Episcopal side. The largest party were in a front room;
and the attack of the mob fell first on their windows, though rather
with fear and caution. Jingle went one pane; then a loud hurrah; and
that again was followed by a number of voices, endeavouring to restrain
the indignation from venting itself in destroying the windows, and to
turn it on the inmates. The Whigs, calling the landlord, inquired what
the assault meant: he cunningly answered that he suspected it was some
of the youths of the Cavalier, or High-Church party, exciting the mob
against them. The party consisted mostly of young gentlemen, by that
time in a key to engage in any row; and, at all events, to suffer
nothing from the other party, against whom their passions were mightily
inflamed.

The landlord, therefore, had no sooner given them the spirit-rousing
intelligence than everyone, as by instinct, swore his own natural oath,
and grasped his own natural weapon. A few of those of the highest rank
were armed with swords, which they boldly drew; those of the
subordinate orders immediately flew to such weapons as the room,
kitchen, and scullery afforded--such as tongs, pokers, spits, racks,
and shovels; and breathing vengeance on the prelatic party, the
children of Antichrist and the heirs of d--n--t--n! the barterers of
the liberties of their country, and betrayers of the most sacred
trust--thus elevated, and thus armed, in the cause of right, justice,
and liberty, our heroes rushed to the street, and attacked the mob with
such violence that they broke the mass in a moment, and dispersed their
thousands like chaff before the wind. The other party of young
Jacobites, who sat in a room farther from the front, and were those
against whom the fury of the mob was meant to have been directed, knew
nothing of this second uproar, till the noise of the sally made by the
Whigs assailed their ears; being then informed that the mob had
attacked the house on account of the treatment they themselves had
given to a young gentleman of the adverse faction, and that another
jovial party had issued from the house in their defence, and was now
engaged in an unequal combat, the sparks likewise flew, to the field to
back their defenders with all their prowess, without troubling their
heads about who they were.

A mob is like a spring tide in an eastern storm, that retires only to
return with more overwhelming fury. The crowd was taken by surprise
when such a strong and well-armed party issued from the house with so
great fury, laying all prostrate that came in their way. Those who were
next to the door, and were, of course, the first whom the imminent
danger assailed, rushed backwards among the crowd with their whole
force. The Black Bull standing in a small square half-way between the
High Street and the Cowgate, and the entrance to it being by two
closes, into these the pressure outwards was simultaneous, and
thousands were moved to an involuntary flight, they knew not why.

But the High Street of Edinburgh, which they soon reached, is a
dangerous place in which to make an open attack upon a mob. And it
appears that the entrances to the tavern had been somewhere near to the
Cross, on the south side of the street; for the crowd fled with great
expedition, both to the cast and west, and the conquerors, separating
themselves as chance directed, pursued impetuously, wounding and
maiming as they flew. But it so chanced that, before either of the
wings had followed the flying squadrons of their enemies for the space
of a hundred yards each way, the devil an enemy they had to pursue! the
multitude had vanished like so many thousands of phantoms! What could
our heroes do? Why, they faced about to return towards their citadel,
the Black Bull. But that feat was not so easily, nor so readily
accomplished as they divined. The unnumbered alleys on each side of the
street had swallowed up the multitude in a few seconds; but from these
they were busy reconnoitring; and perceiving the deficiency in the
number of their assailants, the rush from both sides of the street was
as rapid, and as wonderful, as the disappearance of the crowd had been
a few minutes before. Each close vomited out its levies, and these
better armed with missiles than when they sought it for a temporary
retreat. Woe then to our two columns of victorious Whigs! The mob
actually closed around them as they would have swallowed them up; and,
in the meanwhile, shower after shower of the most abominable weapons of
offence were rained in upon them. If the gentlemen were irritated
before, this inflamed them still further; but their danger was now so
apparent they could not shut their eyes on it; therefore, both parties,
as if actuated by the same spirit, made a desperate effort to join, and
the greater part effected it; but some were knocked down, and others
were separated from their friends, and blithe to become silent members
of the mob.

The battle now raged immediately in front of the closes leading to the
Black Bull; the small body of Whig gentlemen was hardly bested, and it
is likely would have been overcome and trampled down every man, had
they not been then and there joined by the young Cavaliers; who, fresh
to arms, broke from the wynd, opened the head of the passage, laid
about them manfully, and thus kept up the spirits of the exasperated
Whigs, who were the men in fact that wrought the most deray among the
populace.

The town-guard was now on the alert; and two companies of the
Cameronian Regiment, with the Hon. Captain Douglas, rushed down from
the Castle to the scene of action; but, for all the noise and hubbub
that these caused in the street, the combat had become so close and
inveterate that numbers of both sides were taken prisoners fighting
hand to hand, and could scarcely be separated when the guardsmen and
soldiers had them by the necks.

Great was the alarm and confusion that night in Edinburgh; for everyone
concluded that it was a party scuffle, and, the two parties being so
equal in power, the most serious consequences were anticipated. The
agitation was so prevailing that every party in town, great and small,
was broken up; and the lord-commissioner thought proper to go to the
Council Chamber himself, even at that late hour, accompanied by the
sheriffs of Edinburgh and Linlithgow, with sundry noblemen besides, in
order to learn something of the origin of the affray.

For a long time the court was completely puzzled. Every gentleman
brought in exclaimed against the treatment he had received, in most
bitter terms, blaming a mob set on him and his friends by the adverse
party, and matters looked extremely ill until at length they began to
perceive that they were examining gentlemen of both parties, and that
they had been doing so from the beginning, almost alternately, so
equally had the prisoners been taken from both parties. Finally, it
turned out that a few gentlemen, two-thirds of whom were strenuous
Whigs themselves, had joined in mauling the whole Whig population of
Edinburgh. The investigation disclosed nothing the effect of which was
not ludicrous; and the Duke of Queensberry, whose aim was at that time
to conciliate the two factions, tried all that he could to turn the
whole fracas into a joke--an unlucky frolic, where no ill was meant on
either side, and which yet had been productive of a great deal.

The greater part of the people went home satisfied; but not so the Rev.
Robert Wringhim. He did all that he could to inflame both judges and
populace against the young Cavaliers, especially against the young
Laird of Dalcastle, whom he represented as an incendiary, set on by an
unnatural parent to slander his mother, and make away with a hapless
and only brother; and, in truth, that declaimer against all human merit
had that sort of powerful, homely, and bitter eloquence which seldom
missed affecting his hearers: the consequence at that time was that he
made the unfortunate affair between the two brothers appear in
extremely bad colours, and the populace retired to their homes
impressed with no very favourable opinion of either the Laird of
Dalcastle or his son George, neither of whom were there present to
speak for themselves.