TRADITIONARY STORIES OF OLD FAMILIES.
THERE is more of truth in a well-written novel (though perhaps a perfect novel has yet to be written), than is to be found in any other class of composition. Poetry and the drama are too ideal truly to represent life as it is. History and biography are often but the mere skeleton, containing truths indeed, but only such a class of truths as may be found in the parish register, or published in the newspapers. In nine cases out often, autobiography is little more; the only advantage it possesses being the greater correct- ness and minuteness of the facts, and sometimes an insight into motives and character, or a picture.cf the manners of the time, or a sketch of the training and education by which the public cha- racter of the hero was formed. But of the hopes and fears, the joys and sorrows, the loves and hatreds, of the individual—of his vices and his virtues and his weaknesses—of all, in short, which constitutes the happiness and misery of mortal Man, or makes up the individual character—we learn but little : for who ventures to anatomize himself to himself, much less to the world? Or if any one had the courage, delicacy towards others would intervene ; or were both the preliminary indispensables combined, the very hard- ness of character which enabled a man to make a full confession, would render his confessions of little value.
Mr. PICKEN'S general views upon this point are somewhat akiia to ours. But he seems to think that life can best be painted, and a moral best deduced, from the traditions or history of" those digs tinguished families, in whom high descent and influential cow- flexions, running through the varieties of many generations, may cause a just pride in tracing lineage and history." An opining perhaps questionable ; for only the more striking. points —the accidents of life, or the anomalies in character—are likely to be preserved ; and these rather present the exception than the rule. It was, indeed, eirtumstances; of ;this kind that the critic spoke of, when he decidetrthat le vrai n est pas toujours vraisemblable. Not but what these events would be life-like, if we had the whole truth; but tradition forgets the minutia31 and Mr. Piemx has not the genius to supply the omission. The justice of these observations is in a great measure shown by his work. The publication contains six tales; of which four are laid in the antique time, and in the structure of which the author has, perhaps, closely followed tradition : and what is the result ? Mere prose imitations of the ancient ballad, with all its bald sim- plicity, but without its rugged strength. The time of the other two is of the present day, and they are by far the most effective. Yet even here, the passages which the author has had to fill up from his own experience and observation, are much beyond the parts which " family history " may have supplied.
Of these two tales, " The Priors of Lawford" might be called the philosophy of family madness. It contains the love, the aber- ration, and the final happiness of the last surviving female of a race in which insanity is hereditary. "Lady Barbara of Carloghie, and the Johnstons of Fairly " points the moral of parental severity and of unequal marriages. Owing to a curious concatenation of circumstances, the daughter of a Scotch earl is brought into fre- quent contact with the son of a farmer living in the neighbourhood of her father's castle. The harshness of her parents in attempt- ing to force upon her a battered old beau, the art of young John- ston's mother, and the manly graces of the youth himself, together 'with old associations, lead to a clandestine marriage. On its dis- covery, Lady Barbara is discarded. The stern realities in the life of a farmer's helpmate lead to bickerings, elopement, and ruin, terminating in suicide on the part of the husband and insanity on .that of the wife.
The following extract is from a scene where Mrs. Johnston— a well-drawn character—is cockering and, spiriting her son up to the match.
" Jamie," said the farmer's wife to her son, one day as they were left at home _together, "there's promising prospects before thee, my man, or I'm mistaken, if thou but kens how to catch the sunny shower when it fa's ; of to lift the golden egg when the guse lays it. Jamie, hast thou any spirit in thee? What would. thou think o' Carloghie Lady Babby?"
" What is your meaning, mother?" answered the youth, "and what is it you say? What has ipirit to do with me and an Earl's daughter ?" It has muen to do with a-clever man's fortune, James; if you had only the spunk of your auld mither," said the dame, "who, though she be only a farmer's wife now, was once a gude minister's lady; and would set her cap yet, grey as she is, if she were a wanter, at the best laird in all the land, if he had only flung half the een at her, that bonnie Lady Barbara has done to thee." "Has done to me, mother !" " Ay, just at thee! Jamie Johnston. Dost thou think I'm blind ? And if thou disna ken bow to take the tide when it's flowing to thee, or to follow the gled when it whistles at thy ear, truly, thou '11 maybe rue it yet, and that per- haps o'er an empty trencher."
" And would you really, mother, advise a country lad like me, that has been bred to nothing but the plough-tail, to forget so egregiously the chisset he was Stalled in, as to make a fool of himself by ettliug after a lord's lady? No, no, mother ! I hope I know my own contentment better than that." " Weel, weel, James, my man, thou's not like me, mild as I am ; and if thou has not the heart to bid a bode for the silk gown, little matter than thou never get the 5leeve o't. But I tell thee, that Lady Barbara, high-born as she is, has a maiden's notions o' thee, I can see that." " And ne'er mean her ! though I say it ;" continued the dame, while her son mused, "for though thou wer'na mine, there's no a lad, frac Fairly rain.' to Blanter Braes, has a face like thine, or a tighter lee- to please a lady's ee. Na, thou needna frown at thy mild mother, Jamie Joenston. Would thou throw thyself away upon a common Jenny o' the loaning, who would keep thy nose to the grinding-stone all thy life, while thou might get, for the seeking, a lord's lady?
• " Pluck up a spirit, Jamie, lad !" added the cajoling old woman, clapping her son on the shoulder as he meditated on her words, " and never be blate to look at a high mark ; and if thou just take thy mother's advice, and play thy cards wi' a hold hand, who knows—there where thou sits, but thou may yet lead Lady Barbara to the hely kirk, we rosetted servants crowded behind thee !— Ay thou may yet drink the red wine in Carloghie Castle! wi' flunkies stand- ing behint thy chair, and a lord's title above thy name ! Jamie Johnston ! dinna spit sae spitefu' on the floor, and sneer sae loud at my words, for great ladies take strange fancies, and must have their will ; and wha to say against it ! Did not the Laird of Rowallan's widow marry the page that ran her messages? And did not Lord Dalgowdie's daughter run oft with her own footman? I tell thee, lad, there's a horse-shoe in thy road, at this precious moment, as long as the tid is on the lady; and thy mother's bitter ban upon thee, if thou 's no at the pains to pick it up !"
"But how did these unequal marriages turn out, mother?" said James, with serious elevation of tone and manner; "you have not told me that ; nor what was the real upshot of these ladies' whims. No, no, mother! you need not tell me, that the eagle on the eyry and the simple hen at the barn-door will ever pair happily together. And false and foul would that heart be, that would take ad- vantage of the momentary discontent of a high-born lady, to wile her into a lowly nest like mine. But, more than that, the Earl would disown her, and make two beings miserable in place of one ; besides the sorrow and humiliation it would bring on a most noble house. Mother, I'll none on't ! Never uige .this. flattery on me." ".That's just the way that faint heart speaks, that never won fair lady," Said the mother, tauntingly. "But fathers are not made of stone more than daughters • and after a blast and a breeze of lordly wrath, the Earl would just 410 hke other auld men, and dower his bonnie daughter, and bless his grand- children, and slip to his grave when his time came; and then, my lad, thou ;Woidd be-a great man, and a lord Think on't, Jamie! think on't !"
- After the honey-moon had passed away, and the freshness of her novel situation had worn off, Lady Barbara. began to "get dull." 'Her husband; from affection, determined on a family party to cheer her spirits; -which the vanity of his mother increased to a wedding -eompany. - Here we have-them at tea. • The shaking of bands below stairs, and the congratulations and inquiries of the farmers and their wives and families, were so loud, and often so free and boisterous, that the young man, and even his mother, were somewhat annoyefl at it. " But where's the lady ? Why is Mrs. Johnston not here ? What has become o' your wife?" were the exclamations echoed from so many mouths, and put in so many forms, that James himself was obliged to put a stop to them. " Dear me,' said Mrs. Clashter, " but she's long 'o coming out. Its her I came to see, more than aught else, and here we are looking at ane anither like fools at a fair. A gudesake, what it is to be a lord's dochter l" " Ay," said Miss Mally owart, " if ye claimed sib to as many lords and allies as Lady Johnston does, Mrs. Clashter, ye would make yoursel' as scarce as ony body. But I'm thinking the Lady disna like her company overly week or she would have been here among us before this time."
" Was n't it a wonderful lift for thee Johnstons," said Mrs. Whaup in whisper to the former, " to get their son married into such a connexion? It's enough to turn the callant's head. I can hardly believe it yet."
" It's nae sic advantage as ye may think," replied Mrs. Clashter, " for the Earl has disowned the puir lassie out and out ; neither stick nor stool will she e'er get frae him, as I am credibly told ; and what then has the callant gotten but a gentle doll to dandle, and no a plack wi' her as muckle as would buy paint for her cheeks. It's an ill bargain Mrs. Whaup, take my word for't, for a' Mrs. Johnston's braggadocio ; and Jamie Johnston would hae been muekle better wi' my niece, or any other decent farmer's dochter, wha' tocher was guile : weel would he hae got it, too, for troth; he's a bonnie lad, and there's no a lass frac this to the Blae Hills but would hae jumped at him : but whist! here she comes hersel'," whispered the gossip, as the spence door opened, and James Johnston was seen now leading 'forward his high-born lady, o receive the salu- tations of the company.. " Is that a' your Lady Barbara?" exclaimed Mrs. Whaup, as she appeared. " Is that her ? a dowdy-looking thing, for as high as she hands her heed! And how noughtily she's dressed, we naething but a snood on her bead, and a plain bodclice like a waiting-maid : pooh! for your grand lady' whilk there's been sic a talk about ! My dochter Dorty is aperfect queen to her." These were the sort of exclamations with which Lady Barbara was received (in whispers to each other) by the generality of the women present. In nuth, there was some cause for it, over and above the usual prevalence of certain well- known propensities; for Barbara, high-born as she was, had her female feelings as well as the meanest of them; and the sight, from the window, of the flaunting dresses and glaring colours of her plebeian associates, had made her resolve to doff even the common lustring which she wore every day, and sup. port the distinction to which she still felt herself entitled, by assuming, in the proper spirit of aristocratical contradiction, the plainest dress that her scanty wardrobe afforded.* But about the urn, von See : the cock that lets out the water was rather stiff and ill to turn; and Mrs. Johnston, being awkward at managing such an engine, scalded her fingers till the tears came into her eyes, which made her try a new plan o"t, rather than she would demean herself to make a complaint be- fore the company. Well, getting Miss Mally Dowart to help her, she shifted the teapots beneath the cock, and every one had a hand, and the cups went round with a sort of hobble; for the farmer lads, not being acquainted with high gentility, such as it was fit to enact before my lady, handed the eatables and driukables with a scuffle of awkwardness, which made them dunt against one another and the table, and smash a cup or two of the new china. This un- toward accident provoked Mrs. Johnston to lift her head and speak up ; and so, in the confusion, she forgot the tea-urn and the turning of the cock, until the whole tea-board was in a swim wi' scalding water ; so that the stream broke out at the handle, and ran like a Jordan into Mrs. Clashter's duraut petticoat. - The wife :gave a squeal when she found the hot water coming through, so loud that ye might have heard her at Catloghie Castle; and the lads ran to stop the flood, and Geordie Gum-die turned over a plate of mutton-ham and sauce on Mrs. Whaup's silk gown, and a whole mug of brambleberry jelly was spilt into Melly Dowares lap ; and as Saunders Whaup started up to assist-his wife' he trampled on the dog's tail, and the beast yowled out vie a howl that might have startled the very dead, and snapped at Thomas Dabble with a dreadful bite. At this the whole women got up in a: consternation ; ye never saw such a confusion; and Mr. Doblde, Whose leg was bitten, jamp up on a chair wi' the fright, and fell o'er on the top of the whole women ; and Jamie Jaup started up to kick the dog, and swore and Cursed wi' a brazen oath, that this terrivee was the devil's fraeaw, and worse to quell than an Irish riot. But what do you thiuk was the conduct of Lady Babby in the midst of this strarnash? I declare it was quite unconscionable. Instead of mourning for the rnishanter, or helping to lay the din, she recovered her good-humour in the moment of misfortune ; and while some danced wi' the scalding water, and others shook their clothes from the eatables and the grease, and the lasses screamed louder than the howling of the dog, she took to herself such an enor- mous fit of laughter, that the very tears streamed down her cheeks, as if the whole had been nothing but a sport and a comedy. And so it did seem a sport to the heedless of the company; for as soon as the young fellows saw Lady Barbara so overcome, they set up a guffaw that was like the neighing of a dozen horses. This again provoked the auld wife to such a degree, that, what wi' the pain o' her scalded fingers' and what sir? the affront o' the tea-urn, she lost her temper altogether, and fuffed up into a pet of ilyting and ill-manners, most indecorous and unladylike in a minister's widow. This only made Lady Babby laugh louder than before, until poor Jamie Johnston grew red in the face, and the whole party were put into a farce and a discom- posure that was really most ridiculous.
The next quotation is from the closing passages of the tale. Lady Barbara had eloped with a Colonel Delap, and, after his de- sertion, had sunk into the "deepest abyss of shame and despair: The extract explains the rest.
Meantime, strange and sad changes had taken place at the Fairly Holms. The old man had died of a broken heart, after being turned out of his farm for going too far in helping of his unfortunate son ; auethe old woman, living now, oc- casionally, in the deserted and neglected farm-house of Green Braes, was con- sidered to be at times not quite right in her mind. As for James, lie went about the mould rigs of the mailing, a perfect object of broken-down manhood, suffering, and despondency. The only consolation he appeared to take in life, was in the nursing and tending of his little daughter. But Providence, in its mystery, seemed to have set its mark upon him • for even this last tie to the world was threatened next to be torn out of his lettered heart. The winter-time had set in cauld and grim, and a lonely blackness seemed to brood over the neighbourhood of leafless Carloghie, when, one dark night, towards the middle watches, a solitary figure of a woman came stealing towards the farm., house of Green Braes. She waS dressed richly for a pedestrian; yet there was in her appearance and manner an air of wild and reckless dilapidation. She sought the window where she saw a light burning. I need not say this was the once handsome and proud Lady Barbara of Carloghie. With hesitating steps and rising emotion, she drew near to the little window. There was no screen, and she looked in as well as her blinded eyes would allow her. She saw her child lying out the bed, and James gazing in its flushed Lace; sometimes murmuring out a sob of sorrow, and then wetting, with a feather, the
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