Confessions of a Justified Sinner (28 page)

‘Weel, you see, sir, I says to them, “It will be lang afore the deil intermeddle wi’ as serious a professor, and as fervent a prayer as my master, for, gin he gets the upper hand o’ sickan men, wha’s to be safe?” An’, what think ye they said, sir? There was ane Lucky Shaw set up her lang lantern chafts, an’ answered me, an’ a’ the rest shanned and noddit in assent an’ approbation: “Ye silly, sauchless, Cameronian cuif!” quo she, “is that a’ that ye ken about the wiles and doings o’ the Prince o’ the Air, that rules an’ works in the bairns of disobedience? Gin ever he observes a proud professor, wha has mae than ordinary pretensions to a divine calling, and that reards and prays till the very howlets learn his preambles,
that’s
the man Auld Simmie fixes on to mak a dishclout o’. He canna get rest in Hell, if he sees a man, or a set of men o’ this stamp, an, when he sets fairly to work, it is seldom that he disna bring them round till his ain measures by hook or by crook. Then, Oh! it is a grand prize for him, an’ a proud Deil he is, when he gangs hame to his ain ha’, wi’ a batch o’ the souls
o’ sic strenuous professors on his back. Aye, I trow, auld Ingleby, the Liverpool packman, never came up Glasco street wi’ prouder pomp when he had ten horse-laids afore him o’ Flanders lace, an’ Hollin lawn, an’ silks an’ satins frae the eastern Indians, than Satan wad strodge into Hell with a packlaid o’ the souls o’ proud professors on his braid shoulders. Ha, ha, ha! I think I see how the auld thief wad be gaun through his gizened dominions, crying his wares, in derision, ‘Wha will buy a fresh, cauler divine, a bouzy bishop, a fasting zealot, or a piping priest?’ For a’ their prayers an’ their praises, their aumuses, an’ their penances, their whinings, their howlings, their rantings, an’ their ravings, here they come at last! Behold the end! Here go the rare and precious wares! A fat professor for a bodle, an’ a lean ane for half a merk!” I declare I trembled at the auld hag’s ravings, but the lave o’ the kimmers applauded the sayings as sacred truths. An’ then Lucky went on: “There are many wolves in sheep’s claithing, among us, my man; mony deils aneath the masks o’ zealous professors, roaming about in kirks and meeting-houses o’ the land. It was but the year afore the last that the people o’ the town o’ Auchtermuchty grew so rigidly righteous that the meanest hind among them became a shining light in ither towns an’ parishes. There was naught to be heard, neither night nor day, but preaching, praying, argumentation, an’ catechising in a’ the famous town o’ Auchtermuchty. The young men wooed their sweethearts out o’ the Song o’ Solomon, an’ the girls returned answers in strings o’ verses out o’ the Psalms. At the lint-swinglings, they said questions round; and read chapters, and sang hymns at bridals; auld and young prayed in their dreams, an’ prophesied in their sleep, till the deils in the farrest nooks o’ Hell were alarmed, and moved to commotion. Gin it hadna been an auld carl, Robin Ruthven, Auchtermuchty wad at that time hae been ruined and lost for ever. But Robin was a cunning man, an’ had rather mae wits than his ain, for he had been in the hands o’ the fairies when he was young, an’ a’ kinds o’ spirits were visible to his een, an’ their language as familiar to him as his ain mother tongue. Robin was sitting on the side o’ the West Lowmond, ae still gloomy night in September, when he saw a bridal o’ corbie craws coming
east the lift, just on the edge o’ the gloaming. The moment that Robin saw them, he kenned, by their movements, that they were craws o’ some ither warld than this; so he signed himself, and crap into the middle o’ his bourock. The corbie craws came a’ an’ sat down round about him, an’ they poukit their black sooty wings, an’ spread them out to the breeze to cool; and Robin heard ae corbie speaking, an’ another answering him; and the tane said to the tither: ‘Where will the ravens find a prey the night?’ ‘On the lean crazy souls o’ Auchtermuchty,’ quo the tither. ‘I fear they will be o’er weel wrappit up in the warm flannens o’ faith, an clouted wi’ the dirty duds o’ repentance, for us to mak a meal o’,’ quo the first. ‘Whaten vile sounds are these that I hear coming bumming up the hill?’ ‘Oh, these are the hymns and praises o’ the auld wives and creeshy louns o’ Auchtermuchty, wha are gaun crooning their way to Heaven; an’, gin it warna for the shame o’ being beat, we might let our great enemy tak them. For sic a prize as he will hae! Heaven, forsooth! What shall we think o’ Heaven, if it is to be filled wi’ vermin like thae, amang whom there is mair poverty and pollution than I can name.’ ‘No matter for that,’ said the first, ‘we cannot have our power set at defiance; though we should put them on the thief’s hole, we must catch them, and catch them with their own bait, too. Come all to church tomorrow, and I’ll let you hear how I’ll gull the saints of Auchtermuchty. In the meantime, there is a feast on the Sidlaw hills tonight, below the hill of Macbeth — Mount, Diabolus, and fly.’ Then, with loud croaking and crowing, the bridal of corbies again scaled the dusky air, and left Robin Ruthven in the middle of his cairn.

‘ “The next day the congregation met in the kirk of Auchtermuchty, but the minister made not his appearance. The elders ran out and in, making inquiries; but they could learn nothing, save that the minister was missing. They ordered the clerk to sing a part of the 119th Psalm, until they saw if the minister would cast up. The clerk did as he was ordered, and, by the time he reached the 77th verse, a strange divine entered the church, by the
western door
, and advanced solemnly up to the pulpit. The eyes of all the
congregation were riveted on the sublime stranger, who was clothed in a robe of black sackcloth, that flowed all around him, and trailed far behind, and they weened him an angel, come to exhort them, in disguise. He read out his text from the Prophecies of Ezekiel, which consisted of these singular words: ‘I will overturn, overturn, overturn it; and it shall be no more, until he come, whose right it is, and I will give it him.’

‘ “From these words he preached such a sermon as never was heard by human ears, at least never by ears of Auchtermuchty. It was a true, sterling, gospel sermon — it was striking, sublime, and awful in the extreme. He finally made out the IT, mentioned in the text, to mean, properly and positively, the notable town of Auchtermuchty. He proved all the people in it, to their perfect satisfaction, to be in the gall of bitterness and bond of iniquity, and he assured them that God would overturn them, their principles, and professions; and that they should be no more, until the Devil, the town’s greatest enemy, came, and then it should be given unto him for a prey, for it was his right, and to him it belonged, if there was not forthwith a radical change made in all their opinions and modes of worship.

‘ “The inhabitants of Auchtermuchty were electrified — they were charmed; they were actually raving mad about the grand and sublime truths delivered to them by this eloquent and impressive preacher of Christianity. ‘He is a prophet of the Lord,’ said one, ‘sent to warn us, as Jonah was sent to the Ninevites.’ ‘Oh, he is an angel sent from Heaven, to instruct this great city,’ said another, ‘for no man ever uttered truths so sublime before.’ The good people of Auchtermuchty were in perfect raptures with the preacher, who had thus sent them to Hell by the slump, tag-rag, and bobtail! Nothing in the world delights a truly religious people so much as consigning them to eternal damnation. They wandered after the preacher — they crowded together, and spoke of his sermon with admiration, and still, as they conversed, the wonder and the admiration increased; so that honest Robin Ruthven’s words would not be listened to. It was in vain that he told them he heard a raven speaking, and another raven answering him: the people laughed him to scorn, and
kicked him out of their assemblies, as a one who spoke evil of dignities; and they called him a warlock, an’ a daft body, to think to mak language out o’ the crouping o’ craws.

‘ “The sublime preacher could not be heard of, although all the country was sought for him, even to the minutest corner of St. Johnston and Dundee; but as he had announced another sermon on the same text, on a certain day, all the inhabitants of that populous country, far and near, flocked to Auchtermuchty. Cupar, Newburgh, and Strathmiglo, turned out men, women and children. Perth and Dundee gave their thousands; and, from the East Nook of Fife to the foot of the Grampian hills, there was nothing but running and riding that morning to Auchtermuchty. The kirk would not hold the thousandth part of them. A splendid tent was erected on the brae north of the town, and round that the countless congregation assembled. When they were all waiting anxiously for the great preacher, behold, Robin Ruthven set up his head in the tent, and warned his countrymen to beware of the doctrines they were about to hear, for he could prove, to their satisfaction, that they were all false, and tended to their destruction!

‘ “The whole multitude raised a cry of indignation against Robin, and dragged him from the tent, the elders rebuking him, and the multitude threatening to resort to stronger measures; and, though he told them a plain and unsophisticated tale of the black corbies, he was only derided. The great preacher appeared once more, and went through his two discourses with increased energy and approbation. All who heard him were amazed, and many of them went into fits, writhing and foaming in a state of the most horrid agitation. Robin Ruthven sat on the outskirts of the great assembly, listening with the rest, and perceived what they, in the height of their enthusiasm, perceived not — the ruinous tendency of the tenets so sublimely inculcated. Robin kenned the voice of his friend the corby-craw again, and was sure he could not be wrong: sae, when public worship was finished, a’ the elders an’ a’ the gentry flocked about the great preacher, as he stood on the green brae in the sight of the hale congregation, an’ a’ war alike anxious to pay him some mark o’ respect. Robin Ruthven
came in amang the thrang, to try to effect what he had promised; and, with the greatest readiness and simplicity, just took haud o’ the side o’ the wide gown, an’, in sight of a’ present, held it aside as high as the preacher’s knee, and, behold, there was a pair o’ cloven feet! The auld thief was fairly catched in the very height o’ his proud conquest, an’ put down by an auld carl. He could feign nae mair, but, gnashing on Robin wi’ his teeth, he dartit into the air like a fiery dragon, an’ keust a reid rainbow o’er the taps o’ the Lowmonds.

‘ “A’ the auld wives an weavers o’ Auchtermuchty fell down flat wi’ affright, an’ betook them to their prayers aince again, for they saw the dreadfu’ danger they had escapit, an’ frae that day to this it is a hard matter to gar an Auchtermuchty man listen to a sermon at a’, an’ a harder ane still to gar him applaud ane, for he thinks aye that he sees the cloven foot peeping out frae aneath ilka sentence.

‘ “Now, this is a true story, my man,” quo the auld wife, “an’, whenever you are doubtfu’ of a man, take auld Robin Ruthven’s plan, an’ look for the cloven foot, for it’s a thing that winna weel hide; an’ it appears whiles where ane wadna think o’t. It will keek out frae aneath the parson’s gown, the lawyer’s wig, and the Cameronian’s blue bannet; but still there is a gouden rule whereby to detect it, an’ that never, never fails.” The auld witch didna gie me the rule, an’ though I hae heard tell o’t often an’ often, shame fa’ me an I ken what it is! But ye will ken it well, an’ it wad be nae the waur of a trial on some o’ your friends, maybe; for they say there’s a certain gentleman seen walking wi’ you whiles, that, wherever he sets his foot, the grass withers as gin it war scoudered wi’ a het ern. His presence be about us! What’s the matter wi’ you, master. Are ye gaun to take the calm o’ the stamock again?’

The truth is, that the clown’s absurd story, with the still more ridiculous application, made me sick at heart a second time. It was not because I thought my illustrious friend was the Devil, or that I took a fool’s idle tale as a counterbalance to Divine revelation that had assured me of my justification in the sight of God before the existence of time. But, in short, it gave me a
view of my own state, at which I shuddered, as indeed I now always did when the image of my devoted friend and ruler presented itself to my mind. I often communed with my heart on this, and wondered how a connection, that had the well-being of mankind solely in view, could be productive of fruits so bitter. I then went to try my works by the Saviour’s golden rule, as my servant had put it into my head to do; and, behold, not one of them could stand the test. I had shed blood on a ground on which I could not admit that any man had a right to shed mine; and I began to doubt the motives of my adviser once more, not that they were intentionally bad, but that his was some great mind led astray by enthusiasm or some overpowering passion.

He seemed to comprehend every one of these motions of my heart, for his manner towards me altered every day. It first became anything but agreeable, then supercilious, and, finally, intolerable; so that I resolved to shake him off, cost what it would, even though I should be reduced to beg my bread in a foreign land. To do it at home was impossible, as he held my life in his hands, to sell it whenever he had a mind; and, besides, his ascendancy over me was as complete as that of a huntsman over his dogs. I was even so weak as, the next time I met with him, to look steadfastly at his foot, to see if it was not cloven into two hoofs. It was the foot of a gentleman in every respect, so far as appearances went, but the form of his counsels was somewhat equivocal, and, if not double, they were amazingly crooked.

But, if I had taken my measures to abscond and fly from my native place, in order to free myself of this tormenting, intolerant, and bloody reformer, he had likewise taken his to expel me, or throw me into the hands of justice. It seems that, about this time, I was haunted by some spies connected with my late father and brother, of whom the mistress of the former was one. My brother’s death had been witnessed by two individuals; indeed, I always had an impression that it was witnessed by more than one, having some faint recollection of hearing voices and challenges close beside me; and this woman had searched about until she found these people; but, as I shrewdly suspected, not without the assistance of the only person in my secret — my own warm
and devoted friend. I say this, because I found that he had them concealed in the neighbourhood, and then took me again and again where I was fully exposed to their view, without being aware. One time in particular, on pretence of gratifying my revenge on that base woman, he knew so well where she lay concealed that he led me to her, and left me to the mercy of two viragos who had very nigh taken my life. My time of residence at Dalcastle was wearing to a crisis. I could no longer live with my tyrant, who haunted me like my shadow; and, besides, it seems there were proofs of murder leading against me from all quarters. Of part of these I deemed myself quite free, but the world deemed otherwise; and how the matter would have gone God only knows, for, the case never having undergone a judicial trial, I do not. It perhaps, however, behoves me here to relate all that I know of it, and it is simply this: