The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 10, by Various
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Various >> The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction, Vol. 10,
Some words passed after the departure, of Robin Oig, between the
bailiff, and Harry Wakefield, who was now not indisposed to defend Robin
Oig's reputation. But Dame Heskett prevented this second quarrel by her
peremptory interference. The conversation turned on the expected
markets, and the prices from different parts of Scotland and England,
and Harry Wakefield found a chap for a part of his drove, and at a
considerable profit; an event more than sufficient to blot out all
remembrances of the past scuffle. But there remained one from whose mind
that recollection could not have been wiped by possession of every head
of cattle betwixt Esk and Eden.
This was Robin Oig M'Combich.--"That I should have had no weapon," he
said, "and for the first time in my life!--Blighted be the tongue that
bids the Highlander part with the dirk--the dirk--ha! the English
blood!--My muhme's word--when did her word fall to the ground?"
Robin now turned the light foot of his country towards the wilds,
through which, by Mr. Ireby's report, Morrison was advancing. His mind
was wholly engrossed by the sense of injury the treasured ideas of
self-importance and self-opinion--of ideal birth and quality, had become
more precious to him, (like the hoard to the miser,) because he could
only enjoy them in secret. But insulted, abused, and beaten, he was no
longer worthy, in his own opinion, of the name he bore, or the lineage
which he belonged to--nothing was left to him--but revenge.
When Robin Oig left the door of the ale-house, seven or eight English
miles at least lay betwixt him and Morrison, whose advance was limited
by the sluggish pace of his cattle. And now the distant lowing of
Morrison's cattle is heard; and now he meets them--passes them, and
stops their conductor.
"May good betide us," said the South-lander--"Is this you, Robin
M'Combich, or your wraith?"
"It is Robin Oig M'Combich," answered the Highlander, "and it is
not.--But never mind that, give me pack my dirk, Hugh Morrison, or there
will be words petween us."
"There it is for you then, since less wunna serve."
"Cot speed you, Hughie, and send you good marcats. Ye winna meet with
Robin Oig again either at tryste or fair."
So saying, he shook hastily the hand of his acquaintance, and set out in
the direction from which he had advanced.
Long ere the morning dawned, the catastrophe of our tale had taken
place. It was two hours after the affray when Robin Oig returned to
Heskett's inn. There was Harry Wakefield, who amidst a grinning group of
smockfrocks, hob-nailed shoes, and jolly English physiognomies, was
trolling forth an old ditty, when he was interrupted by a high and stern
voice, saying "Harry Waakfelt--if you be a man, stand up!"
"Harry Waakfelt," repeated the same ominous summons, "stand up, if you
be a man!"
"I will stand up with all my heart, Robin, my boy, but it shall be to
shake hands with you, and drink down all unkindness.
"'Tis not thy fault, man, that, not having the luck to be an Englishman,
thou canst not fight more than a school-girl."
"I _can_ fight," answered Robin Oig, sternly, but calmly, "and you shall
know it. You, Harry Waakfelt, showed me to-day how the Saxon churls
fight--I show you now how the Highland Dunniewassal fights."
He then plunged the dagger, which he suddenly displayed, into the broad
breast of the English yeoman, with such fatal certainty and force, that
the hilt made a hollow sound against the breast bone, and the
double-edged point split the very heart of his victim. Harry Wakefield
fell, and expired with a single groan.
Robin next offered the bloody poniard to the bailiff's throat.
"It were very just to lay you beside him," he said, "but the blood of a
base pick-thank shall never mix on my father's dirk, with that of a
brave man."
As he spoke, he threw the fatal weapon into the blazing turf-fire.
"There," he said, "take me who likes--and let fire cleanse blood if it
can."
The pause still continuing, Robin Oig asked for a peace-officer, and a
constable having stepped out, he surrendered himself.
"A bloody night's work you have made of it," said the constable.
"Your own fault," said the Highlander. "Had you kept his hands off me
twa hours since, he would have been now as well and merry as he was twa
minutes since."
"It must be sorely answered," said the peace-officer.
"Never you mind that--death pays all debts; it will pay that too."
The constable, with assistance, procured horses to guard the prisoner to
Carlisle, to abide his doom at the next assizes. While the escort was
preparing, the prisoner, before he was carried from the fatal apartment,
desired to look at the dead body, which had been deposited upon the
large table, (at the head of which Harry Wakefield had just presided)
until the surgeons should examine the wound. The face of the corpse was
decently covered with a napkin. Robin Oig removed the cloth, and gazed
on the lifeless visage. While those present expected that the wound,
which had so lately flooded the apartment with gore, would send forth
fresh streams at the touch of the homicide, Robin Oig replaced the
covering, with the brief exclamation, "He was a pretty man!"
My story is nearly ended. The unfortunate Highlander stood his trial at
Carlisle. I was myself present. The facts of the case were proved in the
manner I have related them; and whatever might be at first the prejudice
of the audience against a crime so un-English as that of assassination
from revenge, yet when the national prejudices of the prisoner had been
explained, which made him consider himself as stained with indelible
dishonour, the generosity of the English audience was inclined to regard
his crime as the aberration of a false idea of honour, rather than as
flowing from a heart naturally savage, or habitually vicious. I shall
never forget the charge of the venerable judge to the jury.
"We have had," he said, "in the previous part of our duty, (alluding to
some former trials,) to discuss crimes which infer disgust and
abhorrence, while they call down the well-merited vengeance of the law.
It is now our still more melancholy duty to apply its salutary, though
severe enactments to a case of a very singular character, in which the
crime (for a crime it is, and a deep one) arose less out of the
malevolence of the heart, than the error of the understanding--less from
any idea of committing wrong, than from an unhappily perverted notion of
that which is right. Here we have two men, highly esteemed, it has been
stated, in their rank of life, and attached, it seems, to each other as
friends, one of whose lives has been already sacrificed to a punctilio,
and the other is about to prove the vengeance of the offended laws; and
yet both may claim our commiseration at least, as men acting in
ignorance of each other's national prejudices, and unhappily misguided
rather than voluntarily erring from the path of right conduct.
"In the original cause of the misunderstanding, we must in justice give
the right to the prisoner at the bar. He had acquired possession of the
enclosure, by a legal contract with the proprietor, and yet, when
accosted with galling reproaches he offered to yield up half his
acquisition, and his amicable proposal was rejected with scorn. Then
follows the scene at Mr. Heskett the publican's, and you will observe
how the stranger was treated by the deceased, and I am sorry to observe,
by those around, who seem to have urged him in a manner which was
aggravating in the highest degree.
"Gentlemen of the jury, it was with some impatience that I heard my
learned brother, who opened the case for the crown, give an unfavourable
turn to the prisoner's conduct on this occasion. He said the prisoner
was afraid to encounter his antagonist in fair fight, or to submit to
the laws of the ring; and that therefore, like a cowardly Italian, he
had recourse to his fatal stiletto, to murder the man whom he dared not
meet in manly encounter. I observed the prisoner shrink from this part
of the accusation with the abhorrence natural to a brave man; and as I
would wish to make my words impressive, when I point his real crime, I
must secure his opinion of my impartiality, by rebutting every thing
that seems to me a false accusation. There can be no doubt that the
prisoner is a man of resolution--too much resolution; I wish to heaven
that he had less, or rather that he had had a better education to
regulate it.
* * * * *
"But, gentlemen of the jury, the pinch of the case lies in the interval
of two hours betwixt the injury and the fatal retaliation. In the heat
of affray and _chaude melee_, law, compassionating the infirmities of
humanity, makes allowance for the passions which rule such a stormy
moment--But the time necessary to walk twelve miles, however speedily
performed, was an interval sufficient for the prisoner to have
recollected himself; and the violence and deliberate determination with
which he carried his purpose into effect, could neither be induced by
anger, nor fear. It was the purpose and the act of pre-determined
revenge, for which law neither can, will, nor ought to have sympathy.
* * * * *
"The law says to the subjects, with a voice only inferior to that of the
Deity, 'Vengeance is mine.' The instant that there is time for passion
to cool, and reason to interpose, an injured party must become aware,
that the law assumes the exclusive cognizance of the right and wrong
betwixt the parties, and opposes her inviolable buckler to every attempt
of the private party to right himself. I repeat, that this unhappy man
ought personally to be the object rather of our pity than our
abhorrence, for he failed in his ignorance, and from mistaken notions of
honour. But his crime is not the less that of murder, gentlemen, and, in
your high and important office, it is your duty so to find. Englishmen
have their angry passions as well as Scots; and should this man's action
remain unpunished, you may unsheath, under various pretences, a thousand
daggers betwixt the Land's-end and the Orkneys."
The venerable judge thus ended what, to judge by his emotion and tears,
was really a painful task. The jury, accordingly brought in a verdict of
guilty; and Robin Oig M'Combich, _alias_ M'Gregor, was sentenced to
death, and executed accordingly. He met his fate with firmness, and
acknowledged the justice of his sentence. But he repelled indignantly
the observations of those who accused him of attacking an unarmed man.
"I give a life for the life I took," he said, "and what can I do more?"
[17] _We_ remember the proverb, "Honour among thieves."
[18] But we cannot so far forget our country as to be
indifferent to them.--See a passage in the _Two Drovers_.
* * * * *
A PERSIAN FABLE.
A little particle of rain,
That from a passing cloud descended,
Was heard thus idly to complain:--
"My brief existence now is ended.
Outcast alike of earth and sky,
Useless to live, unknown to die."
It chanced to fall into the sea,
And there an open shell received it;
And, after years, how rich was he,
Who from its prison-house relieved it:
The drop of rain has formed a gem,
To deck a monarch's diadem.
_Amulet_.
* * * * *
THE GATHERER.
"I am but a _Gatherer_ and disposer of other men's
stuff."--_Wotton_.
* * * * *
NEW READING.
A witty wight, on seeing the following line in our last,
_Necessitas non habet_ leg_em_,
supplied this new reading,
Necessity without a _leg_ to stand upon.
* * * * *
O. P. RIOTS.
"What is doing to-night?" asked Kemble, of one of the ballet-masters;
"Oh pis (O P) toujours, Monsieur," was the reply.
* * * * *
A CURIOUS FACT.
An absent man, whose heart can seldom resist the importunities of
beggars, was, a few mornings since, followed by a hungry half-starved
dog, when he inadvertently took from his pocket a penny, which he was
just about to give to the four-footed wanderer, when he perceived his
mistake. It should be mentioned that the above individual had, on nearly
the precise spot, on the previous night, assisted one of his fellow
creatures in the same manner as that in which he was about to relieve
the quadruped. The EDITOR of the MIRROR will be happy to substantiate
this fact to such as may be disposed to doubt its authenticity:--"if it
be madness, there's method in it."
* * * * *
SIGNS OF THE TIMES.
Seventeen hundred individuals a year, for the last seven years, have
been committed for poaching.--_Report Prison Discip. Society_.
Crime is a curse only to the period in which it is successful; but
virtue, whether fortunate or otherwise, blesses not only its own age,
but remotest posterity, and is as beneficial by its example, as by its
immediate effects.
At the late Doncaster races, there were 30,000 persons well clothed, and
apparently well fed and happy. 2000l. were taken at the grand stand for
admission.
Mr. Kean is to receive, during the present season, _fifty pounds_ for
each night's performance--the yearly income of a curate!
Singing _Non Nobis Domine_ after dinner is a very foolish custom. People
in England pay 10,000l. a year for _non nobis_. Rather sing Dr.
Kitchener's Universal Prayer and the English grace. The common people of
every country understand only their native tongue; therefore if you do
not understand them, you will not understand each other. All Italian
music is detestable, and nothing like our genuine native song. Weber's
"unconcatenated chords" ought not to be listened to, while we have such
composers as Braham and Tom Cooke. The _national songs of Great Britain_
have not sold so well as the _Cook's Oracle_. "People like what goes
into the mouth better than what comes out of it."--_Dr. Kitchener_.
A museum, deanery, and a cattle-market are building at York. Various
other improvements and repairs are also in progress in that city!
According to the Report of the Commissioners of Public Charities, the
_annual_ sum of 972,396l. has been bequeathed by pious donors to
_England only_! This is surely the promised land of benevolence; but in
Salop only, there are arrears now due to the poor for upwards of 42
years!
M. La Combe, in his _Picture of London_, advises those who do not wish
to be robbed to carry a brace of blunderbusses, and to put the muzzle of
one out of each window, so as to be seen by the robbers.
The silly habit of praising every thing at a man's table came in for a
share of the late Dr. Kitchener's severity. He said, "Criticism, sir, is
not a pastime; it is a verdict on oath: the man who does it is (morally)
sworn to perform his duty. There is but one character on earth, sir," he
would add, "that I detest; and that is the man who praises,
indiscriminately, every dish that is set before him. Once I find a
fellow do that at my table, and, if he were my brother, I never ask him
to dinner again."
A _daily_ literary journal has lately been started in Paris, and has, in
less than three weeks, above 2,000 subscribers.
_Reviewing_, as a profession by which a certain class of men seek to
instruct the public, and to support themselves creditably in the middle
order, and to keep their children from falling, after the decease of
enlightened parents, on the parish, is at the lowest possible ebb in
this country; and many is the once well-fed critic now an
hungered--_Blackwood_.
_Oranges_.--It is not perhaps generally known or suspected, that the
rabbis of the London synagogues are in the habit of affording both
employment and maintenance to the poor of their own persuasion, by
supplying them with oranges at an almost nominal price.--Ibid.
_Noble Authors_.--The poor spinsters of the Minerva press can scarcely
support life by their labours, so completely are they driven out of the
market by the Lady Charlottes and the Lady Bettys; and a rhyming peer is
as common as a Birmingham button. It would take ten Horace Walpoles at
least to do justice to the living authors of the red book.
_Buying Books_.--Money is universally allowed to be the thing which all
men love best; and if a man buys a book, we may safely infer he thinks
well of it. What nobody buys, then, we may justly conclude is not worth
reading.
* * * * *
_On the Duchess of Devonshire's canvassing for Mr. Fox at the
Westminster Election._
Array'd in matchless beauty, Devon's fair
In Fox's favour takes a zealous part;
But, oh! where'er the pilferer comes beware,
She supplicates a vote, and steals a heart.
* * * * *
_Lines sent by a Surgeon, with a box of ointment, to a Lady who had an
inflamed eye._
The doctor's kindest wishes e'er attend
His beauteous patient, may he hope his friend;
And prays that no corrosive disappointment
May mar the lenient virtues of his ointment;
Of which, a bit not larger than a shot,
Or that more murd'rous thing, "a beauty spot,"
Warmed on the finger by the taper's ray,
Smear o'er the eye affected twice a day.
Proffer not gold--I swear by my degree,
From beauty's lily hand to take no fee;
No glittering trash be mine, I scorn such pelf,
The eye, when cured, will pay the debt itself.
* * * * *
George III. is said to have observed to a person who approached him in a
moment of personal restraint, indispensable in his situation, "Here you
see me _checkmated_."
* * * * *
OLD GRIMALDI.
The first Grimaldi celebrated on the stage, appeared at Paris about the
year 1735, when his athletic force and extraordinary agility procured
him the sobriquet of "Jambe de Fer," or iron-leg. In 1742, when Mahomet
Effendi, ambassador of the Porte, visited Paris, he was received with
the highest honour and utmost distinction; and the court having ordered
a performance for the Turk's entertainment, Grimaldi was commanded to
exert himself to effect that object. In obedience to his directions, in
making a surprising leap, his foot actually struck a lustre, placed high
from the stage, and one of the glass drops was thrown in the face of the
ambassador. It was then customary to demand some reward from the
personage for whom the entertainment was prepared, and, at the
conclusion of the piece, Grimaldi waited upon the Mussulman for the
usual present. If the Turk had concealed the expression of his anger at
the accident, it was not however extinct, for on the appearance of the
buffoon, he directed him to be seized by his attendants, and transported
in his theatrical costume, to his residence, where, after undergoing a
severe bastinado, the hapless actor was thrust into the street, with
only his pedal honour for his recompense.
* * * * *
NEGROES' HEIR LOOM.
Some years ago, the boiler-men negroes on Huckenfield estate were
overheard by the book-keeper discoursing on this subject, (the
superiority of the whites,) and various opinions were given, till the
question was thus set at rest by an old African:--"When God Almighty
make de world, him make two men, a nigger and a buckra; and him give dem
two box, and him tell dem for make dem choice. Nigger, (nigger greedy
from time,) when him find one box heavy, him take it, and buckra take
t'other; when dem open de box, buckra see pen, ink, and paper; nigger
box full up with hoe and bill, and hoe and bill for nigger till this
day."--_Barclay's Slavery in the West Indies_.
* * * * *
GRATITUDE.
When Suffer, who had been fifty years a servant in the English factory
at Abesheber, or Bushire, a Persian sea-port, was on his death-bed, the
English doctor ordered him a glass of wine. He at first refused, saying,
"I cannot take it; it is forbidden in the Koran." But after a few
moments, he begged the doctor to give it him, saying, as he raised
himself in his bed, "Give me the wine; for it is written in the same
volume, that all you unbelievers will be excluded from Paradise; and the
experience of fifty years teaches me to prefer your society in the other
world, to any place unto which I can be advanced with my own
countrymen." He died a few hours after this sally.--_Sketches of
Persia_.
* * * * *
_Printed and Published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near
Somerset-House,) and sold by all Newsmen and Booksellers._