When the autumn came again I returned to college more inclined than ever for the life of a scholar. I fell to my studies with renewed zeal, and would doubtless have killed myself with work had I not been nearly killed with the fever, which made me more careful of my health. And now, like the weathercock I was, my beliefs shifted yet again. For studying the schoolmen, who were the great upholders of Aristotle, I found in them so many contradictions and phantasies which they fathered on their master that, after reading the diatribes of Peter Ramus and others against him, I was almost persuaded that I had been grievously misled. Then, at last, I saw hat the fault lay not in Aristotle but in his followers, who sought to find in him things that were beyond the compass of his thought. So by degrees I came round toward the new philosophy, which a party in the college upheld. They swore by the great names of Bacon and Galileo and the other natural philosophers, but I hesitated to follow them, for they seemed to me to disdain all mental philosophy, which I hold is the greater study. I was of this way of thinking when I fell in one day with an English book, a translation of a work by a Frenchman, one Renatus Descartes, published in London in the year 1649. It gave an account of the progress in philosophy of this man, who followed no school, but, clearing his mind of all presuppositions, instituted a method for himself. This marked for me the turning point; for I gave in my allegiance without hesitation to this philosopher, and ever since I have held by his system with some modifications. It is needless for me to enter further into my philosophy, for I have by me a written exposition of the works of this Descartes with my own additions, which I intend, if God so please, to give soon to the world.
For two years I abode at the college, thinking that I was destined by nature for a studious life, and harbouring thoughts of going to the university of Saumur to complete my studies. I thought that my spirit was chastened to a fit degree, and so no doubt it was, for those who had feared me at first on account of my heavy fist and straightforward ways, now openly scoffed at me without fear of punishment. Indeed, one went so far one day as to jostle me off the causeway, and I made no return, but went on as if nothing had happened, deeming it beneath a wise man to be distracted by mundane trifles. Yet, mind you, in all this there was nothing Christian or like unto the meekness of our Master, as I have seen in some men; but rather an absurd attempt to imitate those who would have lived very differently had their lot been cast in our hot and turbid days.
How all this was changed and I veered round of a sudden to the opposite I must hasten to tell. One April day, towards the close of my second year, I was going up the High Street toward the Cathedral with a great parcel of books beneath my arm, when I heard a shouting and a jingling, and a troop of horse came down the street. I stood back into the shelter of a doorway, for soldiers were wont to bear little love to scholars, and I did not care to risk their rough jests. From this place I watched their progress, and a gallant sight it was. Some twenty men in buff jerkins and steel headpieces rode with a fine clatter of bridles and clank of swords. I marked their fierce sun-brown faces and their daredevil eyes as they looked haughtily down on the crowd as on lower beings. And especially I marked their leader. He sat a fine bay horse with ease and grace; his plumed hat set off his high-coloured face and long brown curls worn in the fashion of the day; and as he rode he bowed to the people with large condescension. He was past in a second, but not before I had recognized the face and figure of my cousin Gilbert.
I stood for some minutes staring before me, while the echoes of the horses' hooves died away down the street. This, I thought, is the destiny of my cousin, only two years my elder, a soldier, a gentleman, a great man in his place; while I am but a nameless scholar, dreaming away my manhood in the pursuits of a dotard. I was so overwhelmed with confusion that I stood gaping with a legion of thoughts and opposing feelings running through my brain. Then all the old fighting spirit of my house rose within me. By Heaven, I would make an end of this; I would get me home without delay; I would fling my books into the Clyde; I would go to the wars; I would be a great cavalier, and, by the Lord, I would keep up the name of the house! I was astonished myself at the sudden change in my feelings, for in the space of some ten minutes a whole age had passed for me, and I had grown from a boy to some measure of manhood. I came out from the close-mouth with my head in the air and defiance against all the world in my eye.
Before I had gone five spaces I met the lad who had jostled me aforetime, a big fellow of a raw-boned Ayrshire house, and before he could speak I had him by the arm and had pulled him across the way into the college gardens. There I found a quiet green place, and plucking off my coat I said, "Now, Master Dalrymple, you and I have a small account to settle." With that we fell to with our fists, and in the space of a quarter of an hour I had beaten him so grievously that he was fain to cry for mercy. I let him go, and with much whimpering he slunk away in disgust.
Then I went into the town and bought myself a new blade and a fine suit of clothes – all with the greatest gusto and lightness of heart. I went to the inn where Maisie was stabled and bade them have her ready for me at the college gate in an hour. Then I bade good-bye to all my friends, but especially to Master Sandeman, from whom I was loth to part. I did not fling my books into the Clyde as at first I proposed, but left injunctions that they were to be sent by the carrier. So, having paid all my debts, for my father had kept me well appointed with money, I waved a long farewell and set out for my own country.
CHAPTER V
COUSINLY AFFECTION
It was near midday before I started, so that night I got no farther than the town of Hamilton, but lay at the inn there. The next morning I left betimes, thinking to reach Barns in the afternoon. As I rode along the green sward by the side of Clyde, the larks were singing in the sky and the trout were plashing in the waters, and all the world was gay. The apple orchards sent their blossom across the road, and my hat brushed it down in showers on my horse and myself, so that soon we rode in a mail of pink and white. I plucked a little branch and set it in my hat, and sang all the songs I knew as I cantered along. I cried good-day to every man, and flung money to the little children who shouted as I passed, so that I believe if there had been many more boys on the road I would have reached Tweeddale a beggar. At Crossford, where the Nethan meets the Clyde, I met a man who had been to the salmon-fishing and had caught a big salmon-trout; and as I looked, my old love for the sport awoke within me, and I longed to feel a rod in my hand. It was good to be alive, to taste the fresh air, to feel the sun and wind, and I cried a plague on all close lecture-rooms and musty books.
At Lanark I had a rare dinner at the hostel there. The grey old inn had excellent fare, as I knew of old, so I rode up to the door and demanded its best. It was blessed to see a man obey your words after for many months being a servant of others. I had a dish of well-fed trout and a piece of prime mutton and as good claret, I think, as I have ever tasted. Then I rode over Lanark Moor to Hyndford and through the moor of Carmichael and under the great shadow of Tintock. Here the smell of burning heather came to my nostrils, and so dear and homelike did it seem that I could have wept for very pleasure. The whaups and snipe were making a fine to-do on the bent, and the black-faced sheep grazed in peace. At the top of the knowe above Symington I halted, for there before my eyes were the blue hills of Tweeddale. There was Trehenna and the hills above Broughton, and Drummelzier Law and Glenstivon Dod, and nearer, the great Caerdon; and beyond all a long blue back which I knew could be none other than the hill of Scrape which shadowed Dawyck and my lady.
I came to Barns at three o'clock in the afternoon, somewhat stiff from my ride, but elated with my home-coming. It was with strange feelings that I rode up the long avenue of beeches, every one of which I could have told blindfold. The cattle looked over the palings at me as if glad to see me return. Maisie cocked up her ears at the hares in the grass, and sniffed the hill air as if she had been in a prison for many days. And when I came to the bend of the road and saw the old weatherbeaten tower, my heart gave a great leap within me, for we Tweeddale men dearly love our own countryside, doubtless by reason of its exceeding beauty.
As I rode up Tam Todd came out