I SPEND MY DAYS IN IDLENESS


Summer came on the heels of spring, and the little strip of garden below my windows grew gay as the frock of a burgher's wife on a Sunday. There were great lines of tulips, purple and red and yellow, stately as kings, erect as a line of soldiers, which extended down the long border nigh to the edge of the water. The lawn was green and well trimmed and shaded by the orderly trees. It was pleasant to sit here in the evenings, when Nicol would bring out the supper-table to the grass, and we would drink our evening ale while the sun was making all the canal a strip of beaten gold. Many folk used to come of an evening, some of them come to the university on the same errand as myself, others, Scots gentlemen out of place and out of pocket, who sought to remedy both evils by paying court to the Stadtholder. Then we would talk of our own land and tell tales and crack jests till the garden rang with laughter. I could well wish those times back, if I could bring with them the forte latus, nigros angusta fronte capillos, dulce loqui, ridere decorum. But fie on me for such discontent! Hath not God given good gifts for age as well as youth—aye, perhaps in greater abundance?

I pursued my studies in the ancient literatures and philosophy with much diligence and profit. Nevertheless, there was much to turn my attention, and I doubt if I did not find the folk around me the more diverting objects of study. I lived in an air of theology and philosophy and statecraft, hearing discussions on these and kindred matters all the day long. There were many of my own countrymen in the place, who are notoriously the most contentious of mankind: so that I could scarcely walk down any street without hearing some violent disputation in my own tongue. As for the other people of the place, I found them both civil and hospitable.

The routine of my days was as regular as clockwork, for it was always part of my method to apportion my day equally among my duties. In the morning, immediately upon rising, I went to Master Sandvoort's lecture on the Latin tongue. Then I broke my fast in the little tavern, The Gray Goose, just at the south entrance to the college. It was a clean, well-fitted place, where was found the fattest landlord and the best ale in Holland. Then at the hour of ten in the forenoon I went to listen to the eloquence of Master Quellinus. Having returned thence to my lodging I was wont to spend the time till dinner in study. Thereafter I walked in the town, or resorted to the houses of my friends, or read in the garden till maybe four o'clock, when it was my custom to go to the dwelling of Sir William Crichtoun (him whom I have spoken of before), and there, in the company of such Scots gentlemen as pleaded to come, to pass the time very pleasantly. From these meetings I had vast profit, for I learned something of the conduct of affairs and the ways of the world, in the knowledge of which I had still much to seek. Then home once more to study, and then to bed with a clear conscience and great drowsiness.

But there were several incidents which befell during this time, and which served to break the monotony of my life, which merit the telling. Firstly, towards the end of September who should come to visit me but my kinsman, Gilbert Burnet of Salisbury, a scholar shrewd and profound, a gentleman of excellent parts, and the devoutest Christian it has ever been my lot to fall in with. He was just returning from his journey to Italy, whereof he has written in his work, "Some Letters to T.H.R.B. Concerning his Travels in Italy and Holland." It was one afternoon as I sat in the arbour that Nicol came across the green followed by an elderly man of grave and comely appearance. It was to my great joy that I recognised my kinsman. He had alighted in Leyden that morning and proposed to abide there some days. I would have it that he should put up at my lodgings, and thither he came after many entreaties. During his stay in the city he visited many of the greater folk, for his fame had already gone abroad, and he was welcome everywhere. He was a man of delightful converse, for had he not travelled in many lands and mixed with the most famous? He questioned me as to my progress in letters and declared himself more than satisfied. "For, John," said he, "I have met many who had greater knowledge, but none of a more refined taste and excellent judgment. Did you decide on the profession of a scholar I think I could promise you a singular success. But indeed it is absurd to think of it, for you, as I take it, are a Burnet and a man of action and one never to be satisfied with a life of study. I counsel you not to tarry too long in this foreign land, for your country hath sore need of men like you in her present distress." Then he fell to questioning me as to my opinions on matters political and religious. I told him that I was for the church and the king to the death, but that I held that the one would be the better of a little moderation in its course, and that the other had fallen into indifferent hands. I told him that it grieved my heart to hear of my own countrymen pursued like partridges on the mountains by some blackguard soldiers, and that when I did return, while deeming it my duty to take the part of the king in all things, I would also think it right to hinder to the best of my power the persecution. In this matter he applauded me. It pained him more than he could tell, said he, to think that the church of his own land was in such an ill condition that it did not trust its friends. "What in Heaven's name is all this pother?" he cried. "Is a man to suffer because he thinks one way of worshipping his God better than another? Rather let us rejoice when he worships Him at all, whether it be at a dyke-side or in the King's Chapel." And indeed in this matter he was of my own way of thinking. When finally he took his leave it was to my great regret, for I found him a man of kindly and sober counsels.

Yet his visit had one result which I had little dreamed of, for it led me to show greater friendliness to such of the Scots covenanters as were refugees in the town. I learned something of their real godliness and courage, and was enabled to do them many little services. In particular, such letters as they wished to write to their friends at home I transmitted under my own name and seal, since all communication with Holland was highly suspected unless from a man of approved loyalty.

The other matter which I think worth noting was the acquaintance I formed with a Frenchman, one M. de Rohaine, a gentleman of birth, who was in great poverty and abode in a mean street off the Garen Markt. The way in which I first met him was curious. I was coming home late one evening from Master Swinton's house, and in passing through a little alley which leads from near the college to the Garen Markt, I was apprised of some disturbance by a loud noise of tumult. Pushing forward amid a crowd of apprentices and fellows of the baser sort, I saw a little man, maybe a tailor or cobbler from his appearance, with his back against a door and sore pressed by three ruffians, who kept crying out that now they would pay him for his miserly ways. The mob was clearly on their side, for it kept applauding whenever they struck or jostled him. I was just in the act of going forward to put an end to so unequal a combat, when a tall grave man thrust himself out of the throng and cried out in Dutch for them to let go. They answered with some taunt, and almost before I knew he had taken two of the three, one in either hand, and made their heads meet with a sounding crack. I was hugely delighted with the feat, and broke forward to offer my help, for it soon became clear that this champion would have to use all his wits to get out of the place. The three came at him swearing vehemently, and with evil looks in their eyes. He nodded to me as I took my stand at his side.

"Look after the red-beard, friend," he cried. "I will take the other two."

And then I found my hands full indeed, for my opponent was tough and active, and cared nothing for the rules of honourable warfare. In the end, however, my training got the mastery, and I pinked him very prettily in the right leg, and so put him out of the fight. Then I had time to turn to the others, and here I found my new-found comrade sore bested. He had an ugly cut in his forehead, whence a trickle of blood crawled over his face. But his foes were in a worse case still, and when word came at the moment that a body of the guard was coming they made off with all speed.

The man turned and offered me his hand,

"Let me thank you, sir, whoever you may be," said he. "I am the Sieur de Rohaine at your service."

"And I am Master John Burnet of Barns in Scotland," said I.

"What," he cried, "a Scot!" And nothing would serve him but that I must come with him to his lodging and join him at supper. For, as it seemed, he himself had just come from Scotland, and was full of memories of the land.

I found him a man according to my heart. When I spoke of his gallantry he but shrugged his shoulders. "Ah," said he, "it was ever my way to get into scrapes of that kind. Were I less ready to mix in others' business I had been a richer and happier man to-day," and he sighed.

From him I learned something more of the condition of my own land, and it was worse even than I had feared. M. de Rohaine had had many strange adventures in it, but he seemed to shrink from speaking of himself and his own affairs. There was in his eyes a look of fixed melancholy as of one who had encountered much sorrow in his time and had little hope for more happiness in the world. Yet withal he was so gracious and noble in presence that I felt I was in the company of a man indeed.

If I were to tell all the benefit I derived from this man I should fill a volume and never reach the end of my tale. Suffice it to say that from him I learned many of the tricks of sword play, so that soon I became as nigh perfect in the art as it was ever in my power to be. I learned too of other lands where he had been and wars which he had fought; and many tales which I have often told at home in Tweeddale I first heard from his lips. I was scarce ever out of his company, until one day he received a letter from a kinsman bidding him return on urgent necessity. He made his farewells to me with great regret, and on parting bade me count on his aid if I should ever need it. From that day to this I have never cast eyes on his face or heard tidings of him, but I herewith charge all folk of my family who may read this tale, if ever it be their fortune to meet with one of his name or race, that they befriend him to the best of their power, seeing that he did much kindness to me.

So the summer passed with one thing and another, till, ere I knew, winter was upon us. And I would have you know that winter in the Low Countries is very different from winter with us among the hills of Tweed. For here we have much mist and rain and a very great deal of snow; also the cold is of a kind hard to endure, since it is not of the masterful, overbearing kind, but raw and invidious. But there the frost begins in late autumn and keeps on well till early spring. Nor was there in my experience much haze or rain, but the weather throughout the months was dry and piercing. Little snow fell, beyond a sprinkling in the fore-end of January. Every stream and pond, every loch and canal was hard and fast with ice, and that of the purest blue colour and the keenest temper I have ever seen. All the townsfolk turned out to disport themselves on the frozen water, having their feet shod with runners of steel wherewith they performed the most wondrous feats of activity. The peasant-girls going to market with their farm produce were equipped with these same runners, and on them proceeded more quickly than if they had ridden on the highroad.

Often, too, during the winter, there were festivals on the ice, when the men arrayed in thick clothes and the women in their bravest furs came to amuse themselves at this pastime. I went once or twice as a spectator, and when I saw the ease and grace of the motion was straightway smitten with a monstrous desire to do likewise. So I bought a pair of runners and fitted them on my feet. I shall not dwell upon my immediate experiences, of which indeed I have no clear remembrance, having spent the better part of that afternoon on the back of my head in great bodily discomfort. But in time I made myself master of the art and soon was covering the ice as gaily as the best of them. I still remember the trick of the thing, and five years ago, when the floods in Tweed made a sea of the lower part of Manor valley, and the subsequent great frost made this sea as hard as the high-road, I buckled on my runners and had great diversion, to the country folks' amazement.

In all this time I had had many letters from Marjory, letters writ in a cheerful, pleasant tone, praying indeed for my return, but in no wise complaining of my absence. They were full of news of the folk of Tweedside, how Tam Todd was faring at Barns, and what sport her brother Michael was having in the haughlands among the wild-duck. I looked eagerly for the coming of those letters, for my heart was ever at Dawyck, and though I much enjoyed my sojourning in Holland, I was yet glad and willing for the time of departure to arrive. In January of the next year I received a bundle of news written in the gayest of spirits; but after that for three months and more I heard nothing. From this long silence I had much food for anxiety, for though I wrote, I am sure, some half-dozen times, no reply ever came. The uneasiness into which this put me cast something of a gloom over the latter part of the winter. I invented a hundred reasons to explain it. Marjory might be ill; the letters might have gone astray; perhaps she had naught to tell me. But I could not satisfy myself with these excuses, so I had e'en to wait the issue of events.

It was not till the month of April that I had news from my love, and what this was I shall hasten to tell.