Gavin's essay on Will'um Pitt, the Father of the Taxes, led to the club's being bundled out of the town-house, where people said it should never have been allowed to meet. There was a terrible towse when Tammas Haggart then disclosed the secret of Mr. Byars' supposed approval of the club. Mr. Byars was the Auld3 Licht minister whom Mr. Dishart succeeded, and it was well known that he had advised the authorities to grant the use of the little town-house to the club on Friday evenings. As he solemnly warned his congregation against attending the meetings, the position he had taken up created talk, and Lang Tammas called at the manse with Sanders Whamond to remonstrate4. The minister, however, harangued5 them on their sinfulness in daring to question the like of him, and they had to retire vanquished6 though dissatisfied. Then came the disclosures of Tammas Haggart, who was never properly secured by the Auld Lichts until Mr. Dishart took him in hand. It was Tammas who wrote anonymous7 letters to Mr. Byars about the scarlet8 woman, and, strange to say, this led to the club's being allowed to meet in the town-house. The minister, after many days, discovered who his correspondent was, and succeeded in inveigling9 the stone-breaker to the manse. There, with the door snibbed, he opened out on Tammas, who, after his usual manner when hard pressed, pretended to be deaf. This sudden fit of deafness so exasperated10 the minister that he flung a book at Tammas. The scene that followed was one that few Auld Licht manses can have witnessed. According to Tammas, the book had hardly reached the floor when the minister turned white. Tammas picked up the missile. It was a Bible. The two men looked at each other. Beneath the window Mr. Byars' children were prattling11. His wife was moving about in the next room, little thinking what had happened. The minister held out his hand for the Bible, but Tammas shook his head, and then Mr. Byars shrank into a chair. Finally, it was arranged that if Tammas kept the affair to himself the minister would say a good word to the bailie about the literary club. After that the stone-breaker used to go from house to house, twisting his mouth to the side and remarking that he could tell such a tale of Mr. Byars as would lead to a split in the kirk. When the town-house was locked on the club Tammas spoke12 out, but though the scandal ran from door to door, as I have seen a pig in a fluster13 do, the minister did not lose his place. Tammas preserved the Bible, and showed it complacently14 to visitors as the present he got from Mr. Byars. The minister knew this, and it turned his temper sour. Tammas' proud moments, after that, were when he passed the minister.
Driven from the town-house, literature found a table with forms round it in a tavern15 hard by, where the club, lopped of its most respectable members, kept the blinds down and talked openly of Shakespeare. It was a low-roofed room, with pieces of lime hanging from the ceiling and peeling walls. The floor had a slope that tended to fling the debater forward, and its boards, lying loose on an uneven16 foundation, rose and looked at you as you crossed the room. In winter, when the meetings were held regularly every fortnight, a fire of peat, sod, and dross17 lit up the curious company who sat round the table shaking their heads over Shelley's mysticism, or requiring to be called to order because they would not wait their turn to deny an essayist's assertion, that Berkeley's style was superior to David Hume's. Davit Hume, they said, and Watty Scott. Burns was simply referred to as Rob or Robbie.
There was little drinking at these meetings, for the members knew what they were talking about, and your mind had to gallop18 to keep up with the flow of reasoning. Thrums is rather a remarkable19 town. There are scores and scores of houses in it that have sent their sons to college (by what a struggle!), some to make their way to the front in their professions, and others, perhaps, despite their broadcloth, never to be a patch on their parents. In that literary club there were men of a reading so wide and catholic that it might put some graduates of the universities to shame, and of an intellect so keen that had it not had a crook20 in it their fame would have crossed the county. Most of them had but a threadbare existence, for you weave slowly with a Wordsworth open before you, and some were strange Bohemians (which does not do in Thrums), yet others wandered into the world and compelled it to recognize them. There is a London barrister whose father belonged to the club. Not many years ago a man died on the staff of the Times, who, when he was a weaver21 near Thrums, was one of the club's prominent members. He taught himself shorthand by the light of a cruizey, and got a post on a Perth paper, afterward22 on the Scotsman and the Witness, and finally on the Times. Several other men of his type had a history worth reading, but it is not for me to write. Yet I may say that there is still at least one of the original members of the club left behind in Thrums to whom some of the literary dandies might lift their hats.
Gavin Ogilvy I only knew as a weaver and a poacher: a lank23, long-armed man, much bent24 from crouching25 in ditches whence he watched his snares26. To the young he was a romantic figure, because they saw him frequently in the fields with his call-birds tempting28 siskins, yellow yites, and Unties29 to twigs30 which he had previously31 smeared32 with lime. He made the lime from the tough roots of holly33; sometimes from linseed, oil, which is boiled until thick, when it is taken out of the pot and drawn34 and stretched with the hands like elastic35. Gavin was also a famous hare-snarer at a time when the ploughman looked upon this form of poaching as his perquisite36. The snare27 was of wire, so constructed that the hare entangled37 itself the more when trying to escape, and it was placed across the little roads through the fields to which hares confine themselves, with a heavy stone attached to it by a string. Once Gavin caught a toad38 (fox) instead of a hare, and did not discover his mistake until it had him by the teeth. He was not able to weave for two months. The grouse-netting was more lucrative39 and more exciting, and women engaged in it with their husbands. It is told of Gavin that he was on one occasion chased by a game-keeper over moor40 and hill for twenty miles, and that by and by when the one sank down exhausted41 so did the other. They would sit fifty yards apart, glaring at each other. The poacher eventually escaped. This, curious as it may seem, is the man whose eloquence42 at the club has not been forgotten in fifty years. “Thus did he stand,” I have been told recently, “exclaiming in language sublime43 that the soul shall bloom in immortal45 youth through the ruin and wrack46 of time.”
Another member read to the club an account of his journey to Lochnagar, which was afterward published in Chambers's Journal. He was celebrated47 for his descriptions of scenery, and was not the only member of the club whose essays got into print. More memorable48 perhaps was an itinerant49 match-seller known to Thrums and the surrounding towns as the literary spunk-seller. He was a wizened50, shivering old man, often barefooted, wearing at the best a thin, ragged51 coat that had been black but was green-brown with age, and he made his spunks as well as sold them. He brought Bacon and Adam Smith into Thrums, and he loved to recite long screeds from Spenser, with a running commentary on the versification and the luxuriance of the diction. Of Jamie's death I do not care to write. He went without many a dinner in order to buy a book.
The Coat of Many Colors and Silva Robbie were two street preachers who gave the Thrums ministers some work. They occasionally appeared at the club. The Coat of Many Colors was so called because he wore a garment consisting of patches of cloth of various colors sewed together. It hung down to his heels. He may have been cracked rather than inspired, but he was a power in the square where he preached, the women declaring that he was gifted by God. An awe52 filled even the men when he admonished53 them for using strong language, for at such a time he would remind them of the woe54 which fell upon Tibbie Mason. Tibbie had been notorious in her day for evil-speaking, especially for her free use of the word handless, which she flung a hundred times in a week at her man, and even at her old mother. Her punishment was to have a son born without hands. The Coat of Many Colors also told of the liar55 who exclaimed, “If this is not gospel true may I stand here forever,” and who is standing56 on that spot still, only nobody knows where it is. George Wishart was the Coat's hero, and often he has told in the square how Wishart saved Dundee. It was the time when the plague lay over Scotland, and in Dundee they saw it approaching from the West in the form of a great black cloud. They fell on their knees and prayed, crying to the cloud to pass them by, and while they prayed it came nearer. Then they looked around for the most holy man among them, to intervene with God on their behalf. All eyes turned to George Wishart, and he stood up, stretching his arms to the cloud, and prayed, and it rolled back. Thus Dundee was saved from the plague, but when Wishart ended his prayer he was alone, for the people had all returned to their homes. Less of a genuine man than the Coat of Many Colors was Silva Robbie, who had horrid57 fits of laughing in the middle of his prayers, and even fell in a paroxysm of laughter from the chair on which he stood. In the club he said, things not to be borne, though logical up to a certain point.
Tammas Haggart was the most sarcastic58 member of the club, being celebrated for his sarcasm59 far and wide. It was a remarkable thing about him, often spoken of, that if you went to Tammas with a stranger and asked him to say a sarcastic thing that the man might take away as a specimen60, he could not do it. “Na, na,” Tammas would say, after a few trials, referring to sarcasm, “she's no a crittur to force. Ye maun lat her tak her ain time. Sometimes she's dry like the pump, an' syne61, again, oot she comes in a gush62.” The most sarcastic thing the stone-breaker ever said was frequently marvelled63 over in Thrums, both before and behind his face, but unfortunately no one could ever remember what it was. The subject, however, was Cha Tamson's potato pit. There is little doubt that it was a fit of sarcasm that induced Tammas to marry a gypsy lassie. Mr. Byars would not join them, so Tammas had himself married by Jimmy Pawse, the gay little gypsy king, and after that the minister remarried them. The marriage over the tongs64 is a thing to scandalize any well-brought-up person, for before he joined the couple's hands Jimmy jumped about in a startling way, uttering wild gibberish, and after the ceremony was over there was rough work, with incantations and blowing on pipes. Tammas always held that this marriage turned out better than he had expected, though he had his trials like other married men. Among them was Chirsty's way of climbing on to the dresser to get at the higher part of the plate-rack. One evening I called in to have a smoke with the stone-breaker, and while we were talking Chirsty climbed the dresser. The next moment she was on the floor on her back, wailing66, but Tammas smoked on imperturbably67. “Do you not see what has happened, man?” I cried. “Ou,” said Tammas, “she's aye fa'in aff the dresser.”
Of the school-masters who were at times members of the club, Mr. Dickie was the ripest scholar, but my predecessor68 at the schoolhouse had a way of sneering69 at him that was as good as sarcasm. When they were on their legs at the same time, asking each other passionately70 to be calm, and rolling out lines from Homer that made the inn-keeper look fearfully to the fastenings of the door, their heads very nearly came together, although the table was between them. The old dominie had an advantage in being the shorter man, for he could hammer on the table as he spoke, while gaunt Mr. Dickie had to stoop to it. Mr. McRittie's arguments were a series of nails that he knocked into the table, and he did it in a workmanlike manner. Mr. Dickie, though he kept firm on his feet, swayed his body until by and by his head was rotating in a large circle. The mathematical figure he made was a cone71 revolving72 on its apex73. Gavin's reinstalment in the chair year after year was made by the disappointed dominie the subject of some tart65 verses which he called an epode, but Gavin crushed him when they were read before the club. “Satire,” he said, “is a legitimate74 weapon, used with michty effect by Swift, Sammy Butler, and others, and I dount object to being made the subject of creeticism. It has often been called a t'nife [knife], but them as is not used to t'nives cuts their hands, and ye'll a' observe that Mr. McRittie's fingers is bleedin'.” All eyes were turned upon the dominie's hand, and though he pocketed it smartly several members had seen the blood. The dominie was a rare visitor at the club after that, though he outlived poor Mr. Dickie by many years. Mr. Dickie was a teacher in Tilliedrum, but he was ruined by drink. He wandered from town to town, reciting Greek and Latin poetry to any one who would give him a dram, and sometimes he wept and moaned aloud in the street, crying, “Poor Mr. Dickie! poor Mr. Dickie!”
The leading poet in a club of poets was Dite Walls, who kept a school when there were scholars and weaved when there were none. He had a song that was published in a halfpenny leaflet about the famous lawsuit75 instituted by the fanner of Teuchbusses against the Laird of Drumlee. The laird was alleged76 to have taken from the land of Teuchbusses sufficient broom to make a besom thereof, and I am not certain that the case is settled to this day. It was Dite, or another member of the club, who wrote “The Wife o' Deeside,” of all the songs of the period the one that had the greatest vogue77 in the county at a time when Lord Jeffrey was cursed at every fireside in Thrums. The wife of Deeside was tried for the murder of her servant, who had infatuated the young laird, and had it not been that Jeffrey defended her she would, in the words of the song, have “hung like a troot.” It is not easy now to conceive the rage against Jeffrey when the woman was acquitted78. The song was sung and recited in the streets, at the smiddy, in bothies, and by firesides, to the shaking of fists and the grinding of teeth. It began:
“Ye'll a' hae hear tell o' the wife o' Deeside,
Ye'll a' hae hear tell o' the wife o' Deeside,
She poisoned her maid for to keep up her pride,
Ye'll a' hae hear tell o' the wife o' Deeside.”
Before the excitement had abated79, Jeffrey was in Tilliedrum for electioneering purposes, and he was mobbed in the streets. Angry crowds pressed close to howl “Wife o' Deeside!” at him. A contingent80 from Thrums was there, and it was long afterward told of Sam'l Todd, by himself, that he hit Jeffrey on the back of the head with a clod of earth.
Johnny McQuhatty, a brother of the T'nowhead farmer, was the one taciturn member of the club, and you had only to look at him to know that he had a secret. He was a great genius at the hand-loom44, and invented a loom for the weaving of linen81 such as has not been seen before or since. In the day-time he kept guard over his “shop,” into which no one was allowed to enter, and the fame of his loom was so great that he had to watch over it with a gun. At night he weaved, and when the result at last pleased him he made the linen into shirts, all of which he stitched together with his own hands, even to the button-holes. He sent one shirt to the Queen, and another to the Duchess of Athole, mentioning a very large price for them, which he got. Then he destroyed his wonderful loom, and how it was made no one will ever know. Johnny only took to literature after he had made his name, and he seldom spoke at the club except when ghosts and the like were the subject of debate, as they tended to be when the farmer of Mucklo Haws could get in a word. Mucklo Haws was fascinated by Johnny's sneers82 at superstition83, and sometimes on dark nights the inventor had to make his courage good by seeing the farmer past the doulie yates (ghost gates), which Muckle Haws had to go perilously84 near on his way home. Johnny was a small man, but it was the burly farmer who shook at sight of the gates standing out white in the night. White gates have an evil name still, and Muckle Haws was full of horrors as he drew near them, clinging to Johnny's arm. It was on such a night, he would remember, that he saw the White Lady go through the gates greeting sorely, with a dead bairn in her arms, while water kelpie laughed and splashed in the pools and the witches danced in a ring round Broken Buss. That very night twelve months ago the packman was murdered at Broken Buss, and Easie Pettie hanged herself on the stump85 of a tree. Last night there were ugly sounds from the quarry86 of Croup, where the bairn lies buried, and it's not mous (canny) to be out at such a time. The farmer had seen spectre maidens87 walking round the ruined castle of Darg, and the castle all lit up with flaring88 torches, and dead knights89 and ladies sitting in the halls at the wine-cup, and the devil himself flapping his wings on the ramparts.
When the debates were political, two members with the gift of song fired the blood with their own poems about taxation90 and the depopulation of the Highlands, and by selling these songs from door to door they made their livelihood91.
Books and pamphlets were brought into the town by the flying stationers, as they were called, who visited the square periodically carrying their wares92 on their backs, except at the Muckly, when they had their stall and even sold books by auction93. The flying stationer best known to Thrums was Sandersy Riaca, who was stricken from head to foot with the palsy, and could only speak with a quaver in consequence. Sandersy brought to the members of the club all the great books he could get second-hand94, but his stock in trade was Thrummy Cap and Akenstaff, the Fishwives of Buckhaven, the Devil upon Two Sticks, Gilderoy, Sir James the Rose, the Brownie of Badenoch, the Ghaist of Firenden, and the like. It was from Sandersy that Tammas Haggart bought his copy of Shakespeare, whom Mr. Dishart could never abide95. Tammas kept what he had done from his wife, but Chirsty saw a deterioration96 setting in and told the minister of her suspicions. Mr. Dishart was newly placed at the time and very vigorous, and the way he shook the truth out of Tammas was grand. The minister pulled Tammas the one way and Gavin pulled him the other, but Mr. Dishart was not the man to be beaten, and he landed Tammas in the Auld Licht kirk before the year was out. Chirsty buried Shakespeare in the yard.
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1
wrangle
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| vi.争吵 | |
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immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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auld
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| adj.老的，旧的 | |
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remonstrate
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| v.抗议，规劝 | |
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harangued
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| v.高谈阔论( harangue的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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anonymous
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| adj.无名的；匿名的；无特色的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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inveigling
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| v.诱骗，引诱( inveigle的现在分词 ) | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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prattling
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| v.（小孩般）天真无邪地说话( prattle的现在分词 )；发出连续而无意义的声音；闲扯；东拉西扯 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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fluster
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| adj.慌乱，狼狈，混乱，激动 | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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dross
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| n.渣滓；无用之物 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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snares
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| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
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snare
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| n.陷阱，诱惑，圈套；（去除息肉或者肿瘤的）勒除器；响弦，小军鼓；vt.以陷阱捕获，诱惑 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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unties
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| 松开，解开( untie的第三人称单数 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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perquisite
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| n.固定津贴，福利 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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lucrative
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| adj.赚钱的，可获利的 | |
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moor
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| n.荒野，沼泽；vt.(使)停泊；vi.停泊 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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loom
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| n.织布机，织机；v.隐现，(危险、忧虑等)迫近 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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wrack
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| v.折磨；n.海草 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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itinerant
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| adj.巡回的；流动的 | |
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wizened
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| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
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51
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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52
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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53
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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54
woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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58
sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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59
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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60
specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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syne
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| adv.自彼时至此时，曾经 | |
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62
gush
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| v.喷，涌；滔滔不绝(说话)；n.喷，涌流；迸发 | |
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marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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65
tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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66
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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68
predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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69
sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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73
apex
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| n.顶点，最高点 | |
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74
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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lawsuit
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| n.诉讼，控诉 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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abated
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| 减少( abate的过去式和过去分词 )； 减去； 降价； 撤消（诉讼） | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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81
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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82
sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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83
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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84
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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85
stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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86
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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87
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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89
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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90
taxation
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| n.征税，税收，税金 | |
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livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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92
wares
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| n. 货物, 商品 | |
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auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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94
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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95
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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deterioration
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| n.退化；恶化；变坏 | |
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