Read Ebook: Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature Science and Art No. 706 July 7 1877 by Various Chambers Robert Editor Chambers William Editor

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'Thank God for that!' ejaculated Robert Wentworth.

'God grant that she may be always spared the knowledge!'

'She shall be, Wentworth, if it be in my power to spare her.'

'Respect her, Wentworth; blame me as you will, but respect Lilian.'

'Lilian!' I muttered--'Lilian!'

'She is, I think--I trust, utterly unconscious of my--madness. But if she knew, and if she--cared for me, she would be loyal to the right. You ought to be sure of that, knowing what her love for Mary is, Wentworth.'

THE STORY OF THE QUIGRICH OR STAFF OF ST FILLAN.

The recent acquisition of that curious medieval work of art called the Quigrich or crosier of St Fillan by the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, and its final deposit in their National Museum at Edinburgh, is in itself an incident of more than ordinary interest. Apart from its historical associations, the 'Cogerach,' 'Coygerach,' or 'Quigrich,' as it is variously styled in writings of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, is unsurpassed in interest as a work of art of a class and period of which no other Scottish specimen is now known to exist. Briefly described, it is simply the massive silver head of a pastoral staff of the form peculiar to the Celtic Church in very early times. Its shape resembles that of the bent head of a walking-stick, with a slanting prolongation of the outer end. The lower part of the crook expands into a large bulbous socket, beautifully ornamented with interlaced knot-work. A ridge or crest, pierced with quatrefoils, rises from the socket, and is continued over the back of the crook, terminating in the bust of an ecclesiastic, probably meant for St Fillan. The slanting front of the staff-head is ornamented by a large oval setting of cairngorm, and the terminal plate has an engraved representation of the Crucifixion. The body of the crook is covered with lozenge-shaped plaques of filigree-work in floral scrolls.

But if it had no public history and no picturesque associations, the story of its transmission from age to age, linked as it was with the chequered fortunes of the religious foundation to which it was attached, and of the strange and varied circumstances in which it has been preserved by a succession of hereditary keepers, through failing fortunes and changes of faith, in poverty and exile, is sufficient to invest it with surpassing interest.

Since its arrival at Edinburgh the singular discovery has been made that the gilt silver casing of the crosier had been constructed for the purpose of inclosing an older staff-head of cast bronze. This has been taken out of its concealment, and is now exhibited alongside the silver one. The surface of this older crosier is divided into panels by raised ridges ornamented with niello. These panels correspond in number, shape, and size to the silver plaques now on the external casing, and they are pierced with rivet-holes which also correspond with the position of the pins by which the plaques are fastened. It is thus clear that when the old crosier was incased, it was first stripped of its ornamental plaques of filigree-work, which were again used in making up the external covering so far as they were available. Such of them as had been either entirely absent, or so much worn as to require redecoration, were renewed in a style so different from the original workmanship, as to demonstrate that it is a mere imitation of an art with which the workman was unfamiliar. This establishes two distinct phases in the history of the crosier, and suggests that at some particular period, a special occasion had arisen for thus glorifying the old relic with a costly enshrinement. What that occasion was may be inferred from some considerations connected with its public history.

We know nothing of the history of St Fillan's foundation during the first five centuries, in which the founder's staff passed through the hands of his various successors as the symbol of office of the abbot of Glendochart. But in the time of King William the Lion, we find that the office had become secularised, and the abbot appears as a great lay lord, ranking after the Earl of Athole, and appointed alternatively with him as the holder of the assize, in all cases of stolen cattle in that district of Scotland. Whether he held the crosier in virtue of his office we cannot tell; but the likelihood is that it was when the office was first usurped by a layman, that the crosier was placed by the last of the true successors of St Fillan in the custody of a 'dewar' or hereditary keeper, with the dues and privileges which we afterwards find attached to this office. Such an arrangement was not uncommon in connection with similar relics of the ancient Celtic church. We thus find the dewar of the Cogerach of St Fillan in possession of the lands of Eyich in Glendochart in 1336. In process of time the official title of dewar became the family surname of Dewar; and we have a curious instance of the Celtic form of the patronymic in a charter granted in 1575 by Duncan Campbell of Glenorchy to Donald Mac in Deora vic Cogerach.

The inquiry is naturally suggested why a relic with such associations, intrinsically so valuable, and always so highly venerated, should have been allowed to remain in the possession of laymen, and to be kept in their private dwellings, often no better than turf cottages in the glen. The crosier was splendid enough to have graced the processional ceremonials of the highest dignitary of the Church, and thus to have been a coveted acquisition to the richest monastery in the land. That it was so coveted may be fairly inferred from the fact that on the 22d April 1428, John de Spens of Perth, Bailie of Glendochart, summoned an inquest of the men of Glendochart to hold inquisition regarding the authority and privileges of 'a certain relick of St Felane called the Coygerach.' Of the fifteen summoned, three were Macnabs, deriving their origin from the son of a former abbot; three were of the clan Gregor; and one was named Felan, after the saint. Their verdict sets forth that the Coygerach was in the rightful possession of the deoire, because the office of bearing it had been given hereditarily by the successor of St Fillan to a certain progenitor of Finlay, the deoire at the time of the inquest; that the privileges pertaining to the office had been enjoyed and in use since the days of King Robert Bruce; and that when cattle or goods were stolen or taken by force from any inhabitant of the glen, and they were unable to follow them from fear or feud, the dewar was bound to follow the cattle or goods wherever they might be found throughout the kingdom.

His son, Alexander Dewar, the last of the hereditary dewars of the Crosier, is a hale old man of eighty-eight, in comfortable circumstances, the patriarch of a new race of Dewars, rejoicing in upwards of thirty grandchildren, and nephews and nieces innumerable. It is in consequence of his desire to see the ancient relic returned to Scotland before he dies, and placed in the National Museum at Edinburgh, 'there to remain in all time coming for the use, benefit, and enjoyment of the Scottish nation,' that the Society of Antiquaries has been enabled, partly by purchase and partly by his donation, to acquire the Quigrich, the most remarkable of all existing relics associated with the early history of the Scottish nation.

It was five centuries old before the light of authentic record reveals it in 1336 in possession of the dewar Cogerach, and since then it can be traced uninterruptedly in the line of the Dewars for five hundred and forty years. 'Its associations with the Scottish monarchy,' says Dr Daniel Wilson, 'are older than the Regalia, so sacredly guarded in the castle of Edinburgh; and its more sacred memories carry back the fancy to the primitive missionaries of the Christian faith, when the son of St Kentigerna, of the royal race of Leinster, withdrew to the wilderness of Glendochart, and there initiated the good work which has ever since made Strathfillan famous in the legendary history of the Scottish Church.'

COUSIN DICK.

Mrs Woodford, of nearly the same age as her Cousin Dick, had been his confidante in their boy and girl days, had sympathised warmly with his disappointment, without very precisely understanding how it had come about, and was now assuring her husband that the attachment had been a far more serious affair than very youthful fancies commonly are. It was true the gentleman had so far consoled himself as to marry another lady; though it was reported he had wedded a shrew, who had not made him supremely happy. But he lost his wife some time before leaving Australia; and now, after a sojourn of nearly twenty years in the colonies, had returned to England with something more than competence.

'But what became of Miss Clifton?' asked Mr Woodford.

'That I do not know,' returned the lady. 'Clifton was only her professional name; her real one I quite forget; therefore if from any circumstances she passed into private life, it would not be easy to track her. Dick only called her Alice to me.'

'Probably she also married,' said Mr Woodford.

'Possibly,' replied his wife; 'though women are more constant than men; and though she ceased to answer Dick's letters, and really brought him to a state of misery which drove him out of England, I never thought the fault was quite her own.'

While Mrs Woodford was yet speaking, there was a knock at the door, and Mr Broughton was announced.

'Why did you not come to dinner?' cried Mr Woodford, rising to greet the visitor. 'But we can have the lamb brought back,' he added.

'Thanks, thanks,' said Mr Broughton; 'but I dined at the hotel. I am sure I ought to apologise for calling at such a time, and for having brought Dandy with me.'

Dandy was a terrier, and his master's almost inseparable companion.

'Now Dandy, behave!' continued his master; 'and go and beg pardon for both of us. Say we know we are two unmannerly colonial boors, at present unfit for good society.'

Very much as if the sagacious animal understood every word of this address, he approached Mrs Woodford, and sat on his haunches in a begging attitude.

'He means biscuit,' said the lady with a laugh, and suiting the action to the word by giving him one, with a caressing pat into the bargain.

'Seriously, however,' said Mr Broughton, 'I would not have come at such an hour, but I wanted so much to tell you that at last I have found lodgings which I think will just suit me. Or rather I should say that Dandy found them for me.'

'I know the shop,' interrupted Mrs Woodford: 'it is kept by a widow and her maiden sister, who seem very superior people.'

'Oh, I am glad you know the place,' continued Mr Broughton. 'Well, this afternoon as usual I waited, looking in at the shop window, while Dandy quenched his thirst, and wishing I could decide on something to purchase, by way of liquidating my dog's debt, when I observed a card which intimated there were apartments to let. There were directions to knock at the private door; but seeing me linger on the spot longer than usual, Dandy had entered the shop, and when I followed to look after him, I saw him planted firmly near an inner door, and accepting the caresses of a little girl of about seven years old as if he had known her all his life. I made inquiries about the apartments, and found they consisted of the first floor, a nice bedroom, and pleasant sitting-room; attendance with good cooking guaranteed, and no other lodgers taken. Of course I went upstairs to look at the rooms, Dandy leading the way with the canine gravity which you remarked in him the other day. He jumped on a chair to look out of the window, and then on the sofa, as if to examine the softness of the cushions, and finally gave a little yelp, which was only half a bark, and which seemed to say: "Master, this will do; here we are quite at home." Even the mistress of the house, Mrs Gray, laughed at the evident contentment of the dog. But what charmed me was there was no rebuke for my poor Dandy's jumping on the furniture; and remembering besides the bowl of water, I felt inclined to believe that Dandy would be something more than tolerated in the house. Accordingly it was with a good hope that I intimated that my dog was my constant companion, and that I trusted his presence would not be objectionable.'

'O sir,' said the widow, 'we have only lost a dear old dog within these three months; and for our own poor pet's sake--if for nothing else--we should be kind to a dog. As for my children, I believe they take after their aunt; and my sister dotes upon dogs.'

'Ah, it was the maiden sister, I daresay, who was the mistress of the lamented dog,' exclaimed Mrs Woodford. 'I have some recollection of seeing a very old black retriever in the shop.'

'No doubt it was the same. I understand the sister gives music lessons; though at present she is taking a little holiday, staying at the seaside with friends. There is another advantage in these lodgings,' continued Mr Broughton; 'the house being a music warehouse, and one of the family evidently musical, I am in hopes they will not object to my violin-practising any more than to Dandy for an inmate. What I want now is comfort, to enjoy myself after my own fashion, and opportunity of doing some little good in the world, when what seems to me the fitting occasion offers. Five years more at the Antipodes and I might have come home a richer man; but perhaps in that time health would have been shattered by over-toil, and I should have been less able even than now to turn into new grooves of life and resume habits of culture. As it is, my means are ample for all I am likely to want. With books and music and Dandy, I expect to get on capitally. Besides I mean to come and see you pretty often.'

'Indeed I hope you will,' ejaculated husband and wife together.

'If we come too often, they must turn us out--must they not, Dandy?' said Mr Broughton, speaking to and petting his dog; and then he added, turning to his cousin: 'By-the-bye, I ventured to give you as a reference as to my respectability, responsibility, &c.'

'And I will give you a good character, Dick, I promise you,' replied Mrs Woodford; 'and what is more, I will recommend Dandy to Mrs Gray's special regard. He certainly is the cleverest dog I ever saw. Look at him now, wagging his tail at me, as if he understood every word I was saying!'

'Spoken just like the Cousin Maggie of early days,' said Mr Broughton, with a certain tremor in his voice which proved that his feelings were touched. 'Always full of sympathy and thoughtful kindness. Yet even you can hardly tell what a friend Dandy has been to me through years of loneliness.'

'Yes, I can, Dick,' said Mrs Woodford; 'if I had not a pack of children to think about, I am quite sure I should want dogs or four-footed pets of some sort.'

Only a fortnight has passed, but 'Cousin Dick' seems as completely installed in his new lodgings as if he had occupied them for months. His most cherished personal belongings were all unpacked and arranged about his rooms according to his own taste and fancy. A few well-worn books which he had taken from England in his youth, still held a place of honour, though they were now flanked by many fresher-looking volumes; and an old and cherished violin rested in one corner, and helped to give the sitting-room its inhabited look, though writing materials near the window and newspapers lying about, contributed to the effect.

Over the mantel-piece in his bedroom he had arranged his store of warlike weapons--a sword, which Richard Broughton had certainly never used, but which he valued as the gift of a dead friend; pistols and revolver which he had looked on as protectors in many a perilous journey, and a boomerang, brought to England as a curiosity.

Mr Broughton had finished his breakfast, and was enjoying his morning newspaper; but he had been to the opera the night before, and the melody of an air which had delighted him still haunted his ear, and even disturbed the rhythm of the very didactic leading article he was reading. He was not much disturbed by Mrs Gray's knocking at the door; she came, as she usually did every morning, to receive his orders for dinner.

'You manage my dinners so nicely for me,' said Mr Broughton in answer to some suggestion of his landlady, 'that I think I cannot do better than leave all arrangements to you. But do sit down; I want to thank you for taking care of my dog last night. I hope he was not troublesome to you?'

'Not in the least,' returned Mrs Gray: 'when once he ascertained that you really were not in the house, he settled down quietly, and played with the children till they went to bed.'

'I am so glad your children are not afraid of him,' observed Mr Broughton.

'Oh, they are too well used to a dog and to pets in general to be afraid of a gentle creature like your Dandy. In fact my difficulty is keeping them out of your rooms. Ally--you remember how Dandy took to her from the very first--Ally wanted to come in and see the dog just now. I daresay she is near the door still.'

'Oh, pray let her in,' said Mr Broughton, himself rising to open the door. 'I will not be jealous because it is my dog she wants to see--not me;' and there was a little laugh at the idea of Dandy being such a favourite.

When the room-door opened, sure enough little Ally was found waiting, but not alone; her brother, a curly-headed urchin two years her junior, had hold of her hand; and both were evidently in expectation of being allowed some little frolic with the dog.

'Come in, my dears--come in,' exclaimed Mr Broughton; 'Dandy will be most happy to see you, and will shew you some of his accomplishments, if you like.'

Though a little shy at first with the 'strange gentleman,' whom they had been taught in a vague sort of way to reverence, and for whose comfort they were told to refrain from noise, the shyness soon wore off, when they found that Dandy's master was as willing to be their playmate as Dandy himself. For their delectation the dog went through his most admired tricks: he jumped over a stick, he allowed of mimic shooting and acted the dead dog, he begged for a piece of bread, but could not be induced to eat it till assured it was paid for. Moreover, he howled a note in unison with one his master played on the violin; but probably without meaning to imply admiration of the latter performance.

It is astonishing how soon pleasant habits may be formed. Before the next week had passed it became quite the custom of the children to come into Mr Broughton's rooms at least once a day, ostensibly to play with Dandy; but also they brought their toys to shew to Dandy's master, and chattered away, as bright, eager, fresh-hearted children are pretty sure to do with those whom, by some subtle instinct, they at once recognise as friends. Dandy's canine predecessor in the house, the much lamented Topsy, was a frequent subject of conversation. Her accomplishments were described, though admitted to be fewer than Dandy's, and her death and burial dwelt on with some pathos. And one day little Ally came into the room hugging a thick photographic album in her arms. She had brought it for the express purpose of shewing poor Topsy's likeness.

Topsy had been photographed a number of times: once cosily curled up on a mat; once occupying an easy-chair with something of the dignity of a judge; another time as a conspicuous member of a group; and lastly by the side of a lady who had her hand on its head.

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