CHAPTER III.
The Antiquary.
ANDREW GEMMELS.
(Edie Ochiltree.)
ndrew Gemmels or Gemble, a wandering blue-gown of the south of Scotland, is supposed to have been the original of Edie Ochiltree. The latter, as represented in the novel, bears, it is true, a much more amiable aspect, and exhibits greater elevation of character, than the rude old soldier in whom the public has recognised his prototype. Yet, as we believe there exists a considerable degree of resemblance between them, a sketch of old Andrew, who was a very singular personage, will not prove unsatisfactory.
Andrew Gemmels was well known over all the Border districts as a wandering beggar, or gaberlunzie, for the greater part of half a century. He had been a soldier in his youth; and the entertaining stories which he told of his campaigns, and the adventures he had encountered in foreign countries, united with his shrewdness, drollery, and other agreeable qualities, rendered him a general favourite, and secured him a cordial welcome and free quarters at every shepherd’s cot or farm-steading that lay in the range of his extensive wanderings. He kept a horse in his latter days; and, so doing, set the proverb at naught. On arriving at a place of call, he usually put up his horse in some stable or outhouse, without the ceremony of asking his host’s permission, and then came into the house, where he stamped and swore till room was made for him at the fireside. Andrew was not like those degenerate modern beggars, who implore a coin as for God’s sake, and shelter themselves in the first hole they can find open to receive them,—but ordered and commanded, like the master himself, and only accepted of his alms by way of obliging his friends. He presumed even to choose his own bed, and was not pleased unless the utmost attention was shown to his comfort. He preferred sleeping in an outhouse, and, if possible, in any place where horses and cattle were kept. The reasons he might be supposed to have for such a preference are obvious. In an outhouse he was less exposed in undressing to the curious eyes of the people, who always suspected him of having treasure concealed in his clothes; and the company of the animals beneath his bed was preferable to utter solitude, and, moreover, tended to keep the premises comfortably warm. He used such art in the matters of his toilette that no person ever saw him undressed, or made any discovery prejudicial to his character of poverty.
Andrew was a tall, sturdy, old man, with a face in which the fierceness and austerity of his character strove for mastery with the expression of a shrewd and keen intellect. He was usually dressed in the blue gown or surtout described in “The Antiquary” as the habiliment of Edie Ochiltree, and his features were shaded with a broad slouched hat, which had been exchanged at an earlier period for a lowland bonnet. His feet and ankles were shod with strong iron-soled shoes and gamashins, or stocking-boots. He always carried a stout walking-staff, which was nearly as tall as himself, that is to say, not much less than six feet.
“Though free and unceremonious,[17] Andrew was never burdensome or indiscreet in his visits, returning only once or twice a year, and generally after pretty regular intervals. He evidently seemed to prosper in his calling; for, though hung around with rags of every shape and hue, he commonly possessed a good horse, and used to attend the country fairs and race-courses, where he would bet and dispute with the farmers and gentry with the most independent and resolute pertinacity. He allowed that begging had been a good trade in his time, but used to complain sadly that times were daily growing worse.[18] A person remembers seeing Gemmels travelling about on a blood-mare, with a foal after her, and a gold watch in his pocket. On one occasion, at Rutherford in Tiviotdale, he had dropped a clue of yarn, and Mr. Mather, his host, finding him searching for it, assisted in the search, and, having got hold of it, persisted, notwithstanding Andrew’s opposition, in unrolling the yarn till he came to the kernel, which, much to his surprise and amusement, he found to consist of about twenty guineas in gold.”
“My grandfather,” continues this writer, “was exceedingly fond of Andrew’s company; and, though a devout and strict Cameronian, and occasionally somewhat scandalized at his rough and irreverent style of language, was nevertheless so much attracted by his conversation, that he never failed to spend the evenings of his sojourn in listening to his entertaining narrations and ‘auld-warld stories,’ with the old shepherds, hinds, and children seated around them, beside the blazing turf ingle in ‘the farmer’s ha’.’ These conversations generally took a polemical turn, and not unfrequently ended in violent disputes—my ancestor’s hot and impatient temper blazing forth in collision with the dry and sarcastic humour of his ragged guest. Andrew was never known to yield his point on these occasions; but he usually had the address, when matters grew too serious, to give the conversation a more pleasant turn, by some droll remark or unexpected stroke of humour, which convulsed the rustic group, and the grave gudeman himself, with unfailing and irresistible merriment.”