THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS
JOINT EDITORS
ARTHUR MEE Editor and Founder of the Book of Knowledge
J.A. HAMMERTON Editor of Harmsworth's Universal Encyclopaedia
VOL. VIII FICTION
MCMX
* * * * *
TABLE OF CONTENTS
SCOTT, SIR WALTER (-Continued-)
Quentin Durward
Rob Roy
Talisman
SHELLEY, MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT
Frankenstein
SIDNEY, SIR PHILIP
Arcadia
SMOLLET, TOBIAS
Roderick Random
Peregrine Pickle
STAËL, MME. DE
Corinne
STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE)
Chartreuse of Parma
STERNE, LAURENCE
Tristram Shandy
STOWE, HARRIET BEECHER
Uncle Tom's Cabin
SUE, EUGÈNE
Mysteries of Paris
SWIFT, JONATHAN
Gulliver's Travels
THACKERAY, WILLIAM MAKEPEACE
Newcomes
Virginians
Vanity Fair
TOLSTOY, COUNT LYOF N.
Anna Karenina
TROLLOPE, ANTHONY
The Warden
Barchester Towers
TURGENEV, IVAN
Fathers and Sons
A Nest of Nobles
Smoke
VERNE, JULES
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea
WALPOLE, HORACE
Castle of Otranto
ZOLA, ÉMILE
Drink
A Complete Index of THE WORLD'S GREATEST BOOKS will be found at the end
of Volume XX.
* * * * *
SIR WALTER SCOTT
Quentin Durward
In mentioning "Quentin Durward" for the first time Scott
speaks of himself as having been ill, and "Peveril" as having
suffered through it. "I propose a good rally, however," he
says, "and hope it will have a powerful effect. My idea is a
Scotch archer in the French King's guard, -tempore- Louis XI.,
the most picturesque of all times." The novel, which is by
many considered one of the best of Scott's works, was
published in June, 1823. It was coldly received by the British
public, though it eventually attained a marvellous popularity.
In Paris it created a tremendous sensation, similar to that
produced in Edinburgh by the appearance of "Waverley." It was
Scott's first venture on foreign ground, and the French were
delighted to find Louis XI. and Charles the Bold brought to
life again at the call of the Wizard of the North. The
delineations of these two characters are considered as fine as
any in fiction or history.
-I.--The Wanderer Meets Louis XI.-
It was upon a delicious summer morning that a youth approached the ford
of a small river, near the Royal castle of Plessis-les-Tours, in ancient
Touraine.
The age of the young traveller might be about nineteen or twenty, and
his face and person were very prepossessing. His smart blue bonnet, with
sprig of holly and eagle's feather, was already recognised as the
Scottish headgear.
Two persons loitered on the opposite side of the small river and observed
the youth. "Hark, sir, he halloes to know whether the water be deep,"
said the younger of the two.
"Nothing like experience in this world," answered the other, "let him
try."
The young man receiving no hint to the contrary entered the stream, and
to one less alert in the exercise of swimming death had been certain,
for the brook was both deep and strong. As it was, he was carried but a
little way from the ordinary landing-place.
But the bonnie Scot turned wrathfully on the younger of the strangers
for not warning him of the stream, and only the reproof of the elder
prevented a violent quarrel.
"Fair son," he said, "you seem a stranger, and you should recollect your
dialect is not so easily comprehended by us."
"Well, father," answered the youth, "I do not care much about the
ducking I have had, provided you will direct me to some place where I
can have my clothes dried, for it is my only suit, and I must keep it
somewhat decent."
"For whom do you take us, fair son?" said the elder stranger.
"For substantial burgesses," said the youth. "You, master, may be a
money-broker or a corn-merchant."
"My business is to trade in as much money as I can," said the elder,
smiling. "As to your accommodation we will try to serve you. It is but a
short walk from hence to the village. Let me know your name, and follow
me."
"My true name when at home is Quentin Durward," said the youth.
Proceeding along a path they came in sight of the whole front of the
Castle of Plessis-les-Tours.
"I have some friend to see in this quarter," said Durward. "My mother's
own brother, Ludovic Lesly--an honest and noble name."
"And so it is I doubt not," said the old man. "But of three Leslies in
the Scottish Guard two are called Ludovic."
"They call my kinsman Ludovic with the Scar," said Quentin.
"The man you speak of we, I think, call Le Balafré; from that scar on
his face," answered his companion. "A proper man and a good soldier. Men
call me Maître Pierre--a plain man. I owe you a breakfast, Master Quentin,
for the wetting my mistake procured you."
While they were speaking they reached the entrance of the village of
Plessis, and presently approached the court-yard of an inn of unusual
magnitude.
Maître Pierre lifted the latch of the side door, and led the way into a
large room, where arrangements had been made for a substantial
breakfast. He whistled and the landlord entered, and bowed with
reverence.
Quentin Durward had eaten little for two days, and Maître Pierre seemed
delighted with the appetite of the young Scot, who indeed devoured an
enormous repast. When his appetite had been satisfied, and the old man
had put several questions, the door opened, and a girl, whose
countenance, so young and so lovely, was graver, Quentin thought, than
belongs to an early beauty, entered with a platter and a cup of delicate
workmanship.
"How now, Jacqueline?" said Maître Pierre. "Did I not desire that Dame
Perette should bring what I wanted? But I blame thee not, thou art too
young to be--what thou must be one day--a false and treacherous thing,
like the rest of thy giddy sex. Here is a Scottish cavalier will tell
you the same."
But Durward, with the feelings of youth, answered hastily, "That he
would throw down his gage to any antagonist, of equal rank and equal
age, who should presume to say such a countenance as that which he now
looked upon could be animated by other than the purest and the truest
mind."
The young woman grew deadly pale, and cast an apprehensive glance upon
Maître Pierre, in whom the bravado of the young gallant seemed only to
excite laughter.
Jacqueline vanished, and Maître Pierre, after filling a goblet with
silver pieces, and bidding Quentin Durward take it and remain in the
hostelry until he had seen his kinsman, Le Balafré, also left the
apartment.
Within a short time Ludovic Lesly, or Le Balafré (as he was generally
known), a robust hard-featured soldier upwards of six feet high, was
announced.
Quentin greeted his uncle, and the following day the as taken before
Lord Crawford, the commander of the Scottish Archers, the king's
bodyguard, and enrolled in that honourable corps as esquire to Le
Balafré.
-II.--The Scottish Archer-
Quentin, accompanying his uncle into the presence-chamber of Louis XI.,
started so suddenly that he almost dropped his weapon when he recognised
in the King of France the merchant, Maître Pierre. No less astonished
was he when the king, whose quick eye had at once discovered him, walked
straight to the place where he was posted, and addressing Le Balafré,
said: "Your kinsman is a fair youth, though fiery. We love to cherish
such spirits, and mean to make more than ever we did of the brave men
who are around us."
A boar-hunt, wherein the life of Louis was saved from imminent danger by
the courage and dexterity of Quentin Durward, brought the young Scot
still further into royal favour: "Thou hast begun thy wood-craft well,"
said the king; "and Maître Pierre owes thee as good an entertainment as
he gave thee in the village yonder. I like thee, and will do thee good.
Build on no man's favour but mine--not even on thine uncle's or Lord
Crawford's, and say nothing of thy timely aid in this matter of the
boar, for if a man makes boast that he has served a king in such a
pinch, he must take the braggart humour for its own recompense."
So Quentin kept silence discreetly, and was rewarded by a gold chain
from the king, by speedy promotion to the rank of free archer, and by
being employed to act as sentinel in the private gallery of Louis. And
here he once more beheld the young lady whom he had seen at his
memorable breakfast, and who had been called Jacqueline. She proved to
be the youthful Countess Isabelle, heiress of the rich earldom of Croye,
who had fled with her aunt, the Countess Hameline, from the overlordship
of the Duke of Burgundy. Had death been the penalty Durward must needs
have rendered to this beauty and her companion the same homage which he
paid to royalty. They received it as those who were accustomed to the
deference of inferiors; but he thought that the young lady coloured
slightly and seemed embarrassed.
Occupation and adventure now crowded upon Durward with the force of a
spring tide.
Louis, anxious to be on good terms with Burgundy, induced the ladies of
Croye to retreat from their concealment at the Court of France, and to
place themselves under the protection of the Prince Bishop of Liége.
Durward was delighted when the king told him that he was selected, with
four others under his command, to escort the Countess Isabelle and her
companion to the little court of their relative the bishop, in the
safest and most secret manner possible.
They set out at midnight, and Lady Hameline soon interrogated the
captain of her escort, and learnt that he was of noble birth.
"Methinks, my cousin," said the Lady Isabelle softly, "we must be safe
under this young gentleman's safeguard."
The journey was accomplished, not without perils and hazards, and then
four days after the arrival at the bishop's palace, the townsmen of
Liége rose in mad revolt, and, led by a ferocious noble, William de la
Marck, whom all men called the Wild Boar of Ardennes, overpowered the
bishop's guards, and seized the palace. The bishop himself was murdered
by De la Marck's orders, in his very dining hall; the Countess Isabelle
escaped under Durward's protection, while the Countess Hameline remained
to become the wife of the Wild Boar. The son of a burgher with whom
Durward had made friends undertook to guide the Countess Isabelle and
her companion to the frontiers of Burgundy.
"My resolution is taken," said the young lady; "I return to my native
country, to throw myself on the mercy of Charles, Duke of Burgundy."
"And you resolve to become the bride, then, of the Count of Campo-basso,
the unworthy favourite of Charles?" said Quentin, who had been told the
reason why refuge had been sought with Louis.
"No, Durward, no!" said the Lady Isabelle, "to that hated condition all
Burgundy's power shall not sink a daughter of the House of Croye. Burgundy
may seize on my lands and fiefs, he may imprison my person in a convent,
but that is the worst I have to expect; and worse than that I will
endure ere I give my hand to Campo-basso. Ah, Durward, were I your
sister, and could you promise me shelter in some of those mountain-glens
which you love to describe, where for charity, or for the few jewels I
have preserved, I might lead an unharassed life, and forget the lot I
was born to, that were indeed a prospect for which it were worth risk of
further censure to wander farther and wider!"
The tenderness of voice with which the Countess Isabelle made this
admission, at once filled Quentin with joy, and cut him to the very
heart.
"Lady," he said at last, "I should act foully against my honour did I
suffer you to think I have power in Scotland to afford you other
protection than that of the poor arm which is now by your side. Our
castle was stormed at midnight, and all were cut off that belonged to my
name. Even had the King of Scotland a desire to do me justice, he dared
not, for the sake of one poor individual, provoke a chief who rides with
five hundred horse."
"Alas!" said the Countess, "there is no corner of the world safe from
oppression! No more of Scotland, then; no more of Scotland!"
In the humour of mutual confidence, and forgetting the singularity of
their own situation, as well as the perils of the road, the travellers
pursued their journey for several hours.
The artificial distinction which divided the two lovers--for such we may
now term them--seemed dissolved by the circumstance in which they were
placed. For the present, the Countess was as poor as the youth, and for
her safety, honour, and life, she was exclusively indebted to his
presence of mind, valour, and devotion. They -spoke- not, indeed, of
love, but the thoughts of it were on both sides unavoidable.
It was two hours after noon when a party of De la Marck's banditti
appeared, and shortly after a body of men-at-arms under a knight's
pennon. The former were soon put to rout by the superiority of the
latter, whose banner Countess Isabelle recognised as that of the Count
of Crèvecoeur, a noble Burgundian.
"Noble Count!" said Isabelle, as Crèvecoeur gazed on her with doubt and
uncertainty, "Isabelle of Croye, the daughter of your old companion in
arms, Count Reinold of Croye, renders herself, and asks protection from
your valour for her and hers."
"Thou shalt have it, fair kinswoman, were it against a host," said
Crèvecoeur. "This is a rough welcome to your home, my pretty cousin, but
you and your foolish match-making aunt have made such wild use of your
wings of late, that I fear you must be contented to fold them up in a
cage for a little while. For my part, my duty will be ended when I have
conducted you to the court of the Duke, at Peronne."
-III.--A Prize for Honour-
The king had ventured, with a small company of his Scottish archers, to
be his own ambassador to his troublesome subject the Duke of Burgundy,
and Louis and Charles were together at Peronne when the news of the
revolt at Liége was brought to them by Crèvecoeur, under whose escort
the Countess Isabelle returned to the protection of her suzerain.
The Countess was lodged in the Convent of the Ursulines, and with the
Lady Abbess and the Countess of Crèvecoeur attended the presence of the
Duke.
In vain Charles stormed and swore that she should marry whom he would.
"My lord," she replied, undismayed, "if you deprive me of my lands, you
take away all that your ancestors' generosity gave, and you break the
only bonds which attach us together. You cannot dispose the hand of any
gentlewoman by force."
The Duke, with a furious glance, turned to his secretary.
"Write," he said, "our doom of forfeiture and imprisonment against this
disobedient and insolent minion! She shall to the penitentiary, to herd
with those whose lives have rendered them her rivals in effrontery!"
There was a general murmur.
"My Lord Duke," said Crèvecoeur, "this must be better thought on. We,
your faithful vassals, cannot suffer dishonour to the nobility and
chivalry of Burgundy. If the Countess hath done amiss, let her be
punished--but in the manner that becomes her rank and ours, who stand
connected with her house."
The Duke paused for a moment, and looked full at his counsellor with the
stare of a bull. Prudence, however, prevailed over fury, he saw the
sentiment was general in his council, and, being rather of a coarse and
violent, than of a malignant temper--felt ashamed of his own
dishonourable proposal.
"You are right, Crèvecoeur," he said, "and I spoke hastily. Her fate
shall be determined according to the rules of chivalry. Her flight to
Liége hath given the signal for the bishop's murder. He that best
avenges that deed, and brings us the head of the Wild Boar of Ardennes,
shall claim her hand of us; and, if she denies his right, we can at
least grant him her lands, leaving it to his generosity to allow her
what means he will to retire into a convent."
"Nay!" said the Countess. "Think, I am the daughter of Count Reinold--of
your father's old, valiant, and faithful servant. Would you hold me out
as a prize to the best sword-player?"
"Your ancestress," said the Duke, "was won at a tourney--you shall be
fought for in real -melee-. Only thus far, for Count Reinold's sake, the
successful prizer shall be a gentleman of unimpeached birth, and
unstained bearings, but, be he such, and the poorest who ever drew the
strap of a sword-belt through the tongue of a buckle, he shall have at
least the proffer of your hand. I swear it by my ducal crown, and by the
order that I wear. Ha, messires," he added, turning to the nobles
present, "this at least is, I think, in conformity with the rules of
chivalry?"
Isabelle's remonstrances were drowned in a general and jubilant assent,
above which was heard the voice of old Lord Crawford, regretting the
weight of years that prevented his striking for so fair a prize.
Le Balafré dared not speak aloud in such a presence, but he muttered to
himself:
"Now, Saunders Souplejaw, hold thine own! Thou always saidst the fortune
of our house was to be won by marriage, and never had you such a chance to
keep your word with us."
The Countess of Crèvecoeur whispered to Isabelle, that perhaps the
successful competitor might prove one who should reconcile to obedience.
Love, like despair, catches at straws, and the tears of the Countess
Isabelle flowed more placidly while she dwelt upon the hope this
insinuation conveyed.
-IV.--The Winning of the Prize-
King Louis and his guards sallied from the gateway of Peronne, to join
the Burgundian army under Duke Charles, which commenced at the same time
its march against Liége. Ere the troops were fully on march Quentin
Durward received from an unknown hand a billet which Lady Hamelin had
sent to the Countess Isabelle, mentioning that her William--as she
called the Wild Boar--had determined, for purposes of policy, in the
first action to have others dressed in his coat-armour, and himself to
assume the arms of Orleans, with a bar sinister. Durward had also learnt
from other sources that the rebels of Liége hoped to scatter confusion
amongst the Burgundians by shouting -Vive la France!-
The battle began on the night of the arrival of the forces outside
Liége, when De la Marck boldly sallied out and attacked the invaders. It
was not till daybreak that the Burgundians began to show the qualities
which belong to superior discipline, and the great mass of Liégois were
compelled to retreat, and at length to fly. Soon the whole became a
confused tide of fighters, fliers, and pursuers, which rolled itself
towards the city walls, and at last poured into the undefended breach
through which the Liégois had sallied.
Quentin had seen the arms of Orleans, and made more than human exertions
to overtake the special object of his pursuit. Le Balafré, and several
of his comrades, were with him marvelling at the gallantry displayed by
so young a soldier. On the very brink of the breach, De la Marck--for it
was himself--succeeded in effecting a momentary stand. H mace of iron in
his hand, before which everything seemed to go down.
Quentin singled him out, and ascended the ruins to measure swords with
the Boar of Ardennes. A shout announced that the besiegers were entering
the city at another point, and De la Marck endeavoured to effect a
retreat, only to be prevented by Quentin, Le Balafré, and their
comrades. De la Marck found his retreat cut off, and bade his lieutenant
break through if he could, and escape. "With me it is over," he added.
"I am man enough now that I am brought to bay, to send some of these
vagabond Scots to hell before me." About six of De la Marck's best men
remained to perish with their master, and fronted the archers who were
not many more in number.
Quentin had but time to bid his uncle and comrades stand back, when De
la Marck sprang upon him with a bound; light of foot and quick of eye,
Quentin leaped aside.
They then closed like wolf and wolf-dog, their comrades on either side
remaining inactive spectators, for Le Balafré roared out for fair play.
The huge strength of the Boar of Ardennes began to give way to fatigue,
so wounded was he, but he fought on unabated in courage and ire, and
Quentin's victory seemed dubious and distant, when a female voice behind
him called him by his name, ejaculating, "Help! help! for the sake of
the blessed Virgin!"
Quentin turned his head and beheld a maiden, who with her family had
aided him to escape with Isabelle, dragged forcibly along by a French
soldier.
"Wait for me but one moment!" he exclaimed to De la Marck, and sprang to
extricate the girl from her dangerous situation.
"I wait no man's pleasure," said De la Marck, flourishing his mace and
beginning to retreat.
"You shall wait mine, though, by your leave," said Balafré; "I will not
have any nephew baulked." So saying, he instantly assaulted De la Marck
with his two-handed sword.
Quentin was obliged to take the defenceless maiden to her father's
house, and in the meantime the King and the Duke of Burgundy entered the
city on horseback, and ditched orders to stop the sack of the city. When
the terrified town was restored to some moderate degree of order, Louis
and Charles proceeded to hear the claims which respected the County of
Croye and its fair mistress. Doubt and mystery involved the several
pretensions of those who claimed the merit of having dispatched the
murderer of the bishop, for the rich reward promised brought death to
all who were arrayed in De la Marck's resemblance.
In the midst of conflicting claims Crawford pressed forward into the
circle, dragging Le Balafré after him. "Away with your hoofs and hides,
and painted iron!" cried Crawford. "No one, save he who slew the Boar,
can show the tusks!"
He flung on the floor the bloody head, easily known as that of De la
Marck, and which was instantly recognised by all who had seen him.
"Crawford," said Louis, "I trust it is one of my faithful Scots who has
won this prize?"
"It is Ludovic Lesly, Sire, whom we call Le Balafré," replied the old
soldier.
"But is he noble?" said the Duke. "Is he of gentle blood? Otherwise our
promise is void."
"I will warrant him a branch of the tree of Rother, as noble as any
house in France or Burgundy," said Crawford.
"There is then no help for it," said the Duke; "and the fairest and
richest heiress in Burgundy must be the wife of a rude mercenary
soldier."
"May it please your Majesty, and your grace," said Crawford. "I must
speak for my countryman and old comrade. He hath acted by my advice and
resigns his claim to him by whom the Wild Boar was actually brought to
bay, who is his maternal nephew, and is of the House of Durward,
descended from that Allan Durward who was High Steward of Scotland."
"Nay, if it be young Durward," said Crèvecoeur; "there is nothing more
to be said. I have much reason to believe your Grace will find her more
amenable to authority than on former occasions. But why should I grudge
this youth his preferment, since after all, it is sense, firmness, and
gallantry, which have put him in possession of wealth, rank, and
beauty!"
Rob Roy
The title of "Rob Roy" was suggested by Constable, the
publisher, who one day informed the novelist that the name of
the hero would be the best possible name for the book. "Nay,"
answered Scott, "never let me have to write up to a name. You
know well that I have generally adopted a title that told
nothing." But the bookseller persevered and in the end Sir
Walter's scruples gave way. "Rob Roy," by the author of
"Waverley," was published on December 31, 1817, and although
it is not among the greatest of Scott's novels, it certainly
figures among his next best. It is crowded with incident and
adventure, and the character of Rob Roy himself will last as
long as English literature. Diana Vernon, too, is perhaps the
most attractive and surely-drawn in all Scott's gallery of
portraits of distinguished women. "Rob Roy" was dramatised
shortly after its appearance in book form; Scott himself first
witnessed a performance of it at Edinburgh on February 15,
1819, the same company later appearing in it at Glasgow before
George IV.
-I.--I Meet Diana Vernon-
Early in the eighteenth century, when I, Frank Osbaldistone, was a youth
of twenty, I was hastily summoned from Bordeaux, where, in a mercantile
house, I was, as my father trusted, being initiated into the mysteries
of commerce. As a matter of fact, my principal attention had been
dedicated to literature and manly exercises.
In an evil hour, my father had received my letter, containing my
eloquent and detailed apology for declining a place in the firm, and I
was summoned home in all haste, his chief ambition being that I should
succeed, not merely to his fortune, but to the views and plans by which
he imagined he could extend and perpetuate that wealthy inheritance. I
did not understand how deeply my father's happiness was involved, and
with something of his own pertinacity, had formed a determination
precisely contrary, not conceiving that I should increase my own
happiness by augmenting a fortune which I believed already sufficient.
My father cut the matter short; when he was my age, his father had
turned him out, and settled his legal inheritance on his younger
brother; and one of that brother's sons should take my place, if I
crossed him any further.
At the end of the month he gave me to think the matter over, I found
myself on the road to York, on a reasonably good horse, with fifty
guineas in my pocket, travelling, as it would seem, for the purpose of
assisting in the adoption of a successor to myself in my father's house
and favour; he having decided that I should pay a visit to my uncle, and
stay at Osbaldistone Hall, till I should receive further instructions.
There had been such unexpected ease in the way in which my father had
slipt the knot usually esteemed the strongest that binds society
together, and let me depart as a sort of outcast from his family, that
strangely lessened my self-confidence. The Muse, too,--the very coquette
that had led me into this wilderness--deserted me, and I should have
been reduced to an uncomfortable state of dullness had it not been for
the conversation of strangers who chanced to pass the same way. One poor
man with whom I travelled a day and a half, and whose name was Morris,
afforded me most amusement. He had upon his pillion a very small, but
apparently a very weighty portmanteau, which he would never trust out of
his immediate care; and all his conversation was of unfortunate
travellers who had fallen among thieves. He wrought himself into a fever
of apprehension by the progress of his own narratives, and occasionally
eyed me with doubt and suspicion, too ludicrous to be offensive. I found
amusement in alternately exciting and lulling to sleep the causeless
fears of my timorous companion, who tried in vain to induce a Scotchman
with whom we dined in Darlington to ride with him, because the landlord
informed us "that for as peaceable a gentleman as Mr. Campbell was, he
was, moreover, as bold as a lion--seven highwaymen had he defeated with
his single arm, as he came from Whitson tryste."
"Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan," said Campbell, interrupting him.
"There were but barely two, and two cowardly loons as man could wish to
meet withal." My companion made up to him, and taking him aside seemed
to press his company upon him.
Mr. Campbell disengaged himself not very ceremoniously, and coming up to
me, observed, "Your friend, sir, is too communicative, considering the
nature of his trust."
I hastened to assure him that that gentleman was no friend of mine, and
that I knew nothing of him or his business, and we separated for the
night.
Next day I parted company with my timid companion, turning more westerly
in the direction of my uncle's seat. I had already had a distant view of
Osbaldistone Hall, when my horse, tired as he was, pricked up his ears
at the notes of a pack of hounds in full cry. The headmost hounds soon
burst out of the coppice, followed by three or four riders with reckless
haste, regardless of the broken and difficult nature of the ground. "My
cousins," thought I, as they swept past me: but a vision interrupted my
reflections. It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking
features was enhanced by the animation of the chase, whose horse made an
irregular movement as she passed me, which served as an apology for me
to ride close up to her, as if to her assistance. There was no cause for
alarm, for she guided her horse with the most admirable address and
presence of mind. One of the young men soon reappeared, waving the brush
of the fox in triumph, and after a few words the lady rode back to me
and inquired, as she could not persuade "this cultivated young
gentleman" to do so, if I had heard anything of a friend of theirs, one
Mr. Francis Osbaldistone.
I was too happy to acknowledge myself to be the party enquired after,
and she then presented to me, "as his politeness seemed still to be
slumbering," my cousin, young Squire Thorncliff Osbaldistone, and "Die
Vernon, who has also the honour to be your accomplished cousin's poor
kinswoman."
After shaking hands with me, he left us to help couple up the hounds,
and Miss Vernon rode with me to Osbaldistone Hall, giving me, on the
way, a description of its inmates, of whom, she said, the only
conversible beings beside herself were the old priest and Rashleigh--Sir
Hildebrand's youngest son.
-II.--Rashleigh's Villainy-
Rashleigh Osbaldistone was a striking contrast to his young brothers,
all tall, stout, and comely, without pretence to accomplishment except
their dexterity in field sports. He welcomed me with the air of a man of
the world, and though his appearance was far from prepossessing, he was
possessed of a voice the most soft, mellow, and rich I ever heard. He
had been intended for a priest, but when my father's desire to have one
of Sir Hildebrand's sons in his counting-house was known, he had been
selected, as, indeed, the only one who could be considered at all
suitable.
The day after my arrival, Miss Vernon, as we were following the hounds,
showed me in the distance the hills of Scotland, and told me I could be
there in safety in two hours. To my dismay, she explained that my
timorous fellow-traveller had been robbed of money and dispatches, and
accused me. The magistrate had let my uncle know, and both he and Miss
Vernon, considering it a merit to distress a Hanoverian government in
every way, never doubted my guilt, and only showed the way of escape. On
my indignant denial, Miss Vernon rode with me to the magistrate's, where
we met Rashleigh, and after a hasty private talk with him, in which from
earnest she became angry and flung away from him, saying, "I will have
it so." Immediately after we heard his horse's hoofs in rapid motion;
and very shortly afterwards Mr. Campbell, the very Scotchman we had met
at Darlington, entered the Justice's room, and giving him a billet from
the Duke of Argyll to certify that he, Mr. Robert Campbell, was a person
of good fame and character, prevailed on the magistrate to discharge me,
for he had been with my late fellow-traveller at the time of the
robbery, and could swear that the robber was a very different person.
Morris was apparently more terrified than ever, but agreed to all Mr.
Campbell said, and left the house with him.
Miss Vernon made me promise to ask no questions, and I only entreated
her, if at any time my services could be useful to her, she would
command them without hesitation.
Before Rashleigh's departure, I had realised his real character, and
wrote to Owen, my father's old clerk, to hint that he should keep a
strict guard over my father's interests. Notwithstanding Miss Vernon had
charged Rashleigh with perfidious conduct towards herself, they had
several private interviews together, though their bearing did not seem
cordial; and he and I took up distant ground, each disposed to avoid all
pretext for collision.
I began to think it strange I had received no letter either from my
father or Owen, though I had now been several weeks at Osbaldistone
Hall--where the mode of life was too uniform to admit of description.
Diana Vernon and I enjoyed much of our time in our mutual studies;
although my vanity early discovered that I had given her an additional
reason for disliking the cloister, to which she was destined if she
would not marry any of Sir Hildebrand's sons, I could not confide in our
affection, which seemed completely subordinate to the mysteries of her
singular situation. She would not permit her love to overpower her sense
of duty or prudence, and one day proved this by advising me at once to
return to London--my father was in Holland, she said, and if Rashleigh
was allowed to manage his affairs long, he would be ruined. He would use
my father's revenues as a means of putting in motion his own ambitious
schemes.
I seized her hand and pressed it to my lips--the world could never
compensate for what I left behind me, if I left the Hall.
"This is folly! This is madness!" she cried, and my eyes, following the
direction of hers, I saw the tapestry shake, which covered the door of
the secret passage to Rashleigh's apartment. Prudence, and the necessity
of suppressing my passion and obeying Diana's reiterated command of
"Leave me! leave me!" came in time to prevent any rash action. I left
the apartment in a chaos of thoughts. Above all I was perplexed by the
manner in which Miss Vernon had received my tender of affection, and the
glance of fear rather than surprise with which she had watched the
motion of the tapestry. I resolved to clear up the mystery, and that
evening, at a time when I usually did not visit the library, I,
hesitating a moment with my hand on the latch, heard a suppressed
footstep within, opened the door, and found Miss Vernon alone.
I had determined to seek a complete explanation, but found she refused
it with indignant defiance, and avowed to my face the preference for a
rival. And yet, when I was about to leave her for ever, it cost her but
a change of look and tone to lead me back, her willing subject on her
own hard terms, agreeing that we could be nothing to each other but
friends now or henceforward. She then gave me a letter which she said
might never have reached my hands if it had not fallen into hers. It was
from my father's partner, Mr. Tresham, to tell me that Rashleigh had
gone to Scotland some time since to take up bills granted by my father,
and had not since been heard of, that Owen had been dispatched in search
of him, and I was entreated to go after him, and assist to save my
father's mercantile honour. Having read this, Diana left me for a
moment, and returned with a sheet of paper folded like a letter, but
without any address. "If I understand you rightly," she said, "the funds
in Rashleigh's possession must be recovered by a certain day. Take this
packet; do not open it till other means have failed; within ten days of
the fated day you may break the seal, and you will find directions that
may be useful to you. Adieu, Frank, we never meet more; but sometimes
think of your friend Die Vernon."
She extended her hand, but I clasped her to my bosom. She sighed and
escaped to her own apartment, and I saw her no more.
-III.--In the Highlands-
I had not been a day in Glasgow before, in obedience to a mysterious
summons, I met Mr. Campbell, and was by him guided to the prison where
my poor old friend Owen was confined. On his arrival two days before, he
had gone to one of my father's correspondents, trusting that they who
heretofore could not do too much to deserve the patronage of their good
friends in Crane Alley, would now give their counsel and assistance.
They met this with a counter-demand of instant security against ultimate
loss, and when this was refused as unjust to the other creditors of
Osbaldistone & Tresham, they had thrown him into prison, as he had a
small share in the firm. In the midst of our sorrowful explanation we
were disturbed by a loud knocking at the outer door of the prison. The
Highland turnkey, with as much delay as possible, undid the fastenings,
my guide sprang up the stair, and into Owen's apartment. He cast his
eyes around, and then said to me, "Lend me your pistols. Yet, no, I can
do without them. Whatever you see, take no heed, and do not mix your
hand in another man's feud. This gear's mine, and I must manage it as
best I can. I have been as hard bested and worse than I am even now." As
he spoke, he confronted the iron door, like a fine horse brought up to
the leaping-bar.
But instead of a guard with bayonets fixed, there entered a good-looking
young woman, ushering in a short, stout, important person--a magistrate.
"A bonny thing it is, and a beseeming, that I should be kept at the door
half-an-hour, Captain Stanchells," said he, addressing the principal
jailer, who now showed himself. "How's this? how's this? Strangers in
the jail after lock-up hours! I must see into this. But, first, I must
hae a crack with an auld acquaintance here. Mr. Owen, Mr. Owen, how's a'
wi' you man?"
"Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie," drawled out poor Owen,
"but sore afflicted in spirit."
Mr. Jarvie was another correspondent of my father's whom Owen had had no
great belief in, largely because of his great opinion of himself. He now
showed himself kindly and sensible, and asked Owen to let him see some
papers he mentioned. While examining them, he observed my mysterious
guide make a slight movement, and said, "I say, look to the door,
Stanchells; shut it, and keep watch on the outside."
Mr. Jarvie soon showed himself master of what he had been considering,
and saying he could not see how Mr. Owen could arrange his affairs if he
were kept lying there, undertook to be his surety and to have him free
by breakfast time. He then took the light from the servant-maid's hand,
and advanced to my guide, who awaited his scrutiny with great calmness,
seated on the table. "Eh! oh! ah!" exclaimed the Bailie. "My conscience!
it's impossible! and yet, no! Conscience, it canna be. Ye robber! ye
cateran! born devil that ye are--can this be you?"
"E'en as ye see, Bailie," said he.
"Ye are a dauring villain, Rob," answered the Bailie; "and ye will be
hanged. But bluid's thicker than water. Whar's the gude thousand pounds
Scots than I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again?"
"As to when you'll see it--why, just 'when the King enjoys his ain
again,' as the auld sang says."
"Worst of a', Robin," retorted the Bailie. "I mean ye disloyal
traitor--worst of a'! Ye had better stick to your auld trade o'
theft-boot and blackmail than ruining nations. And wha the deevil's
this?" he continued, turning to me.
Owen explained that I was young Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, the only child
of the head of the house, and the Bailie, Nicol Jarvie, having
undertaken Owen's release, took me home to sleep at his house.
I was astonished that Mr. Campbell should appear to Mr. Jarvie as the
head of a freebooting Highland clan, and dismayed to think that Diana's
fate could be involved in that of desperadoes of this man's description.
The packet which Diana Vernon had given me I had opened in the presence
of the Highlander, for the ten days had elapsed, and a sealed letter had
dropped out. This had at once been claimed by Mr. Campbell, or Rob
MacGregor, as Mr. Jarvie called him, and the address showed that it had
gone to its rightful owner.
Before we parted, MacGregor bade me visit him in the Highlands, and I
kept this appointment in company with the Bailie. Strange to say, in the
Highlands I met Diana Vernon, escorted by a single horseman, and from
her received papers which had been in Rashleigh's possession. There was
fighting in the Highlands, and the Bailie and I were both more than once
in peril of our lives.
-IV.--Rob Roy to the Rescue-
No sooner had we returned from our dangerous expedition than I sought
out Owen. He was not alone--my father was with him.
The first impulse was to preserve the dignity of his usual
equanimity--"Francis, I am glad to see you." The next was to embrace me
tenderly--"my dear, dear son!"
When the tumult of our joy was over, I learnt that my father had arrived
from Holland shortly after Owen had set off for Scotland. By his
extensive resources, with funds enlarged and credit fortified, he easily
put right what had befallen only, perhaps, through his absence, and set
out for Scotland to exact justice from Rashleigh Osbaldistone.
The full extent of my cousin Rashleigh's villainy I had yet to learn. In
the rebellion of 1715, when in an ill-omened hour the standard of the
Stuart was set up, to the ruin of many honourable families, Rashleigh,
with more than another Jacobite agent, revealed the plot to the
Government. My poor uncle, Sir Hildebrand, was easily persuaded to join
the standard of the Stuarts, and was soon taken and lodged in Newgate.
He died in prison, but before he died he spoke with great bitterness
against Rashleigh, now his only surviving child, and declared that
neither he nor his sons who had perished would have plunged into
political intrigue but for that very member of his family who had been
the first to desert them. By his will, Sir Hildebrand devised his
estates at Osbaldistone Hall to me as his next heir, cutting off
Rashleigh with a shilling.
Rashleigh had yet one more card to play. The villain was aware that
Diana's father, Sir Frederick Vernon, whose life had been forfeited for
earlier Jacobite plots, lived in hiding at Osbaldistone Hall, and this
had given him power over Miss Vernon.
Some time after I had returned to my father's office, I decided to visit
Osbaldistone and take possession. On my arrival, Diana met me in the
dining hall with her father.
"We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone," said the old knight; "we
claim the refuge and protection of your roof till we can pursue a
journey where dungeons and death gape for me at every step."
"Surely," I articulated, "Miss Vernon cannot suppose me capable of
betraying anyone, much less you?"
But scarcely had they retired to rest that night, when Rashleigh arrived
with officers of the law, and exhibited his warrant, not only against
Frederick Vernon, an attainted traitor, but also against Diana Vernon,
spinster, and Francis Osbaldistone, accused of connivance at treason. He
provided a coach for his prisoners, but in the park a number of
Highlanders had gathered.
"Claymore!" cried the leader of the Highlanders, as the coach appeared,
and a scuffle instantly commenced. The officers of the law, surprised at
so sudden an attack, conceived themselves surrounded, and galloped off
in different directions.
Rashleigh fell, mortally wounded by the leader of the band, who the next
instant was at the carriage door. It was Rob Roy, who handed out Miss
Vernon, and assisted her father and me to alight.
"Mr. Osbaldistone," he said, in a whisper, "you have nothing to fear; I
must look after those who have. Your friends will soon be in safety.
Farewell, and forget not the MacGregor."
He whistled; his band gathered round him, and, hurrying Diana and her
father along with him, they were almost instantly lost in the glades of
the forest.
The death of Rashleigh, who had threatened to challenge at law my right
to Osbaldistone Hall, left me access to my inheritance without
interference. It was at once admitted that the ridiculous charge of
connivance at treason was got up by an unscrupulous attorney on an
affidavit made with the sole purpose of favouring Rashleigh's views, and
removing me from Osbaldistone Hall.
I learnt subsequently that the opportune appearance of MacGregor and his
party was not fortuitous. The Scottish nobles and gentry engaged in the
insurrection of 1715 were particularly anxious to further the escape of
Sir Frederick Vernon, who, as an old and trusted agent of the house of
Stuart, was possessed of matter enough to have ruined half Scotland, and
Rob Roy was the person whom they pitched upon to assist his escape. Once
at large, they found horses prepared for them, and by MacGregor's
knowledge of the country were conducted to the western sea-coast, and
safely embarked for France. From the same source I also learnt that Sir
Frederick could not long survive a lingering disease, and that his
daughter was placed in a convent, although it was her father's wish she
should take the veil only on her own inclination.
When these news reached me, I frankly told the state of my affections to
my father. After a little hesitation he broke out with "I little thought
a son of mine should have been lord of Osbaldistone Manor, and far less
that he should go to a French convent for a spouse. But so dutiful a
daughter cannot but prove a good wife. You have worked at the desk to
please me, Frank, it is but fair you should wive to please yourself."
Long and happily I lived with Diana, and heavily I lamented her death.
Rob Roy died in old age and by a peaceful death some time about 1733,
and is still remembered in his country as the Robin Hood of Scotland.
* * * * *
The Talisman
"The Talisman," the most famous of Scott's "Tales of the
Crusaders," was written 1824-25, when the fortunes of its
author were already threatened. The building of Abbotsford was
finished, and the heavy financial losses which fell on Sir
Walter, and drove him to write at a speed fatal to his genius,
soon followed. "The Talisman" and "The Fair Maid of Perth,"
which appeared three years later, are the only two of the
Waverley Novels published in those later years which are
worthy of their author's fame. The Talisman itself has always
been deservedly popular. It is full of colour, mystery, plot,
and counterplot, and Sir Kenneth's performances in
withstanding the jealous enemies of Richard Coeur-de-Lion glow
with life. Conrade of Montserrat, Richard's opponent in the
armies of the Crusaders, was a well-known figure in the wars
against the Saracens, and when he perished at their hands, it
was said that Richard instigated his death.
-I.--The Knight of the Leopard-
The burning sun of Syria had not yet attained its highest point when a
Knight of the Red Cross was pacing slowly along the sandy deserts in the
vicinity of the Dead Sea. At noon he joyfully hailed the sight of two or
three palm trees, and his good horse, too, lifted up his head as if he
snuffed from afar off the living waters which marked the place of repose
and refreshment. But a distant form separated itself from the trees, and
advanced towards the knight at a speed which soon showed a Saracen
cavalier. The Crusader, whose arms were a couchant leopard, disengaged
his lance, and well acquainted with the customs of Eastern warriors,
made a dead halt, confident that his own weight would give him the
advantage if the enemy advanced to the actual shock; but the Saracen,
wheeling his horse with inimitable dexterity, rode round the Christian,
who, constantly turning, frustrated his attempts to attack him in an
unguarded point, until, desirous to terminate the elusory warfare, the
knight suddenly seized the mace which hung at his saddle-bow, and hurled
it at the head of the Emir, who, though beaten to the ground, instantly
sprang again into his seat and regained the advantage, enlarging his
circles, and discharging arrows. At the seventh, the Christian knight
dropped heavily to the ground, and the Saracen dismounting to examine
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