BODKIN SORELY TRAUCHLED
WI' THE LOBSTER
(On the infinite malignity of the animal creation; the lobster revives; Tibbie discomfited; likewise Jenny Nettles, the cat; mad chase through the streets of Dundee; rich, highly wrought prose, strewn with biblical and poetic tags and pang full of rhetorical devices, repetition, circumlocution, alliteration; as usual, serious point emerges at the end, about social pretentiousness, waste, and how to live the right life.) |
| 'MAISTER EDITOR,--A certain
poet saith that things are not always what they seem. Not
havin' leisure at the present moment to think oot the
problem, I'm not prepared to affirm the truth o' the
assertion in regaird to things in general, but I've nae
hesitation whatsomever to subscribe to its verity in
regaird to labsters in particular. Never did livin'
creature look mair harmless-especially after it received
the dose o' chloroform, at the hands o' the dentist-than
did that labster whase ootrageously cruel procedure I
described last week. To a' ootward appearance its
behaviour was exceedingly circumject -- naething could be
mair sae; indeed, to ony person wha had never penetrated
into the unfathomable depths o' its inherent deevlishness
an' deceitfulness, it wad have seemed to be as guileless
a bein' as ever breathed the breath o' life; for neither
by articulate soond nor by movement o' a claw, as far as
I could hear or see, did it ever gie the slichtest
premonition o' its wicked thochts an intentions. A cat,
if tied up in a newspaper, wad have scartit an' miawed an
struggled to get awa'; it wad have gi'en fair warnicement
that it was prepared to do a' the mischief it could in
order to deliver itsel' frae thraldom; but that sly rogue
o' a labster never let on but what it felt perfectly
contentit wi' its lot, until my little finger happened to
come in contact wi' its bit claw, an' then it showed, as
the poet saith, that it was not what it seemed. Except
the vice-like grasp o' its claw, it made nae visible or
tangible sign either o' pleasure or displeasure when it
got me in its grips. In short, the labster seems to be a
creature utterly destitute o' emotion -- a most
undemonstrative little monster,and yet withal a most
vicious ane. Hoosomdever, the business I have in hand at present is not to philosophise on the unregenerate nature o' the labster tribe, but to complete the history o' the particular specimen o' the genus, a few of whose achievements I described in my last epistle. My word, the chloroform garred the billie sing unco sma'. A' the road hame I keepit on temptin' him to tak' a sweet revenge on me, but never a claw could he be prevailed upon to mudge in his ain defence. He lay in the paper as lifeless an' as harmless as a pund o' butter. To tell the truth, I was beginnin' to think that the dentist had gien him an overdose o' the stuffie, an' that he was 'sleepin' the sleep that knows no wakin'.' Forgaitherin' wi' a friend wha snuffs, I procured frae him a pinch o' 'Irish blackguard,' whilk I keepit atweesh my fingers and thoom wi' the intention o' gien' the brute a snifter o't to see if peradventure it wad hae the effect o' waukenin' him frae his trance. I stappit into a close mooth, an there all unnoticed an' unknown administered the medicine, puttin' it as near as may be into the identical hole whaur the dentist had squirtit the chloroform. The effect was not great, but it was eneugh to certify me that the beast was still alive. It juist gied its claws a waggle, an' that was a'. 'Here's a gallant lookin' labster for ye,' quo' I to Tibbie, as I handit the parcel till her. 'A gey dear pennyworth it is too -- three shillings worth o't a'thegither. Did I no tell ye truly when I said that labsters werna for puir folk's eatin'? They re perfect ruination.' 'Lat me see what like it is,' quo' Tibbie, seizin' hold o' the paper an' turnin' oot his labstership upo ' the table 'It is rather dear, Tammas, considerin' the size o't; but, losh me, it's awfu' lifefess like. ' 'Livin eneugh though, as ye may see, quo' I, pokin' the beast up wi' a breakfast fork that happened to by lyin' on the table beside it. 'It's maybe like Baal, that we read o' i' the Scriptures -- peradventure it sleepeth, an' needs to be waukened.' I made nae mention o' the pliskie it had played to my finger, nor o' the dose it had received frae the dentist, nor o' the pinch o' 'Irish blackguard' it had inhaled; because I was convinced frae a lang an' ripe experience in sic matters that the least said is soonest mendit. I kent weel eneugh that, albeit I had had the warst o't, I wad have had to thole the haill dirdum o' the business in the event of its bein' brought under the review o' my domestic coort o' last resort. 'Something waur than sleep is the matter wi't, I doot,' quo' Tibbie, takin' the creature up in her hand an' makin' a close inspection o't. 'Didna I tell ye to select ane that was strong an' lively?' 'I had nae choice, Tibbie, my woman, an' besides, it was lively eneugh when I got it -- that I'll swear till. It's maybe been seized wi' some sudden illness -- maybe something has come ower its heart -- maybe it's in a faintin' fit. Ye can smell it, an' satisfy yersel' that it is quite fresh.' So Tibbie held it up till her nose, an' very soon discovered, mair frae the sense o' feelin, I daursay, than frae the sense o' smell, that the labster was not only in life, but in a state o' the maist robust health, for the instant that her nose cam' within reach o' its muckle claw the said claw made a grab at the said nasal organ, an' held on til't like grim death! 'The wretch,' exclaimed Tibbie, 'it has grippit me by the nose.' 'So I perceive,' quo' I, takin' the matter as coolly as may be. 'Ye believe noo that it is quite conform to the specifications, that is to say, strong an lively. I told ye it was a tip-top labster, but ye wadna tak' my testimony for't.' 'Mercy me, it'll nip the nose aff my face,' roared Tibbie. 'Canna ye gar it lat go!' 'Haud it awa' frae yer nose,' quo' I. 'When folk get into disagreeable company the best thing for them to do is to get oot o't again as quick as possible. Fling it frae ye! fling it frae ye, woman!' 'Fling it frae me!' she cried, in a terrible pavee o' passion. 'It wunna fling frae me unless I fling my nose wi't.' By this time her puir nose was bluidin', her face as red as a labster after it is boiled, an' the tears were standin' in her e'e holes like blabs o' dew. I've lived the better pairt o' half a century in her society, an' seen her in mony a sad tribulation, but never, sae far as I can mind, hae I ever beheld her in a mair deplorable plicht than when she had, that relentless deevil o' a labster bestridin the brig o' her nose. My first thocht was to seize it wi' the tangs, an' teer it awa' by main force, but then I trembled for the nose, for what if that particularly prominent an' noticeable feature should suffer ony permanent disfigurement in the operation? It wad be a standin' reproach for me ever after, an, I wad never forgie mysel' for havin' a hand in't. If I had had a lickie o' chloroform i' the hoose I wad have tried it; but I hadn't. A happy inspiration flashed into my brain. To the press I ran, an' brocht oot a pair o' nutcrackers! 'Noo, ye wretch,' quo' I, 'there's only twa ways o't. Ye maun either lat o' Tibbie's nose or bang goes yer leg.' In a twinklin' I had the nippers roond his big tae, an' if I didna gie it a wrench he kens himsel'! The claw instantly collapsed like a ripe groser i' the cheek o' a hungry ploughman, an Tibbie's proboscis was saved! Doon fell the labster on the floor, an' I concludit that the measure o' its iniquity was surely filled to overflowin' at last, but na, feint a bit o't. Thae shell fish tak a warld o' killin' to put the spunk oot o' them. Jenny Nettles, attracted by the fishy odour -- for as the poet saith, 'What cat's averse to fish?' -- had come purrin' in aboot, expectin' nae doot to hear o' something to her advantage. It sae happened that the labster fell upon her tail, whilk was immediately seized by the remainin' claw, an' grippit like a very vice. Jenny set up a fearfu' yell, an, turnin' roond on the offender the best way she could, flew at him tooth an' nail; but as has been well observed there are claws an' claws, an' it soon becam' apparent that a cat's are but a poor match for a labster's. Encased in his body panoply his labstership laughed poor Jenny's impotent rage to scorn. Writhin' wi' pain, the puir four-footed brute beast bolted oot o' the room afore I had power to lift a finger to free her frae the 'auld man o' the sea' wha had got on ahent her. Findin' the front door standin' ajee, she tane to the street, wi' the labster stottin' at her heels, for sooner than lat go its grip I verily believe it wad have suffered itsel' to be 'dashed in pieces small.' Very thochtlessly I maun admit -- but there was really nae time for reflection -- I rushed oot in pursuit bare-headed as I was, thinkin' I micht overtake her afore she could mak' a mairter o' the labster by harlin' it at her curpin' through a' the rotten stanks in the neeborhood. I hadna run twenty yairds when I heard the youngsters roond the corner shoutin' at the pitch o' their voices -- 'Bodkin's cat wi' a pan at her tail! Hooray! Come on, Jim, an' yoke the stanes on her. We'll hae bloomin' sport. Hooray!' 'Ye wretched pagans,' quo' I, turnin' the corner afore they were aware an' gein the ringleader o' them a douffart i' the side o' the head wi' my steekit neive, 'wad ye maltreat the puir animal an' her sae sair bested at onyrate? Lay doon thae stanes this very instant or I'll be the death o' ye!' This reproof had the desired effect, for the stanes they had colleckit were forthwith drappit as if they had been red-het. A' this while I had keepit my e'e on Jenny's movements. I observed that she ran doon a close some little distance awa', an' thither I followed her as fast as I could bicker. A baker loon wha was deliverin' bread in the said close happened to emerge therefrom just as I was turnin' the corner, an as I cam against him wi' a bang afore I was aware o' his presence, doon gaed the brod aff his head, an' of coorse a' the baps played clash i' the gutter. Time bein' precious, however, I tarried not to offer ony apology or reparation for the injury I had unwittingly done, but held doon the close at a breakneck pace, reservin' a' apologies, as the auld pagan did his conversion, till a mair convenient season. The close, I found, endit in a square coort, wherein were a score or sae o' bairns playin' at jingo-ring. The appearance o' Jenny an' the labster at her tail smote their young hearts wi' terror, insomuch that they set up a lood skin, an' fled into their respective places of abode. The unearthly yells they set up, an' the hubbub they made when rinnin' awa', added additional fuel to the flame o' puir Jenny's bewilderment an' terror, an' put fresh mettle into her heels. Findin' nae rest for the sole o' her fit within the coort, she flew past me like the wind, utterly regairdless o' sic soothing an' conciliatory overtures as I had time to offer, an' in less than no time she was aff an' up the close again an' spangin' alang the street like five ell o' wind, while I followed as hard as I could put doon, the baker's laddie an' a curn idlers wha were helpin' to pick up his baps salutin' me i' the by-gaun wi' a volley o' profane languidge that I sall not pollute pen an' paper by repeatin'. Warmin' up till her wark under the stimulus o' the pursuit, Jenny bounded alang the plainstanes -- 'So like an arrow swift she flew Shot by an archer strong --' an' still the labster clung till her tail wi' a persistency an' perseverance worthy o' a better cause. At the next turning o' the street I had the misfortune to rin foul o' a German mannie wha was grindin' the 'Queen's Anthem' oot o' a barrel organ. He had an assistant in the shape o' a puggie dressed up in a Rob Roy tartan kilt an' a Hielant bannet on its head, the said puggie bein' owre the lugs in business, playin' divertin' antics, an' colleckin' bawbees frae the onlookers. Luckily the collision passed ower withoot producin' ony organic catastrophe; but the puir puggie, tynin' his equilibrium, fell aff the tap o' the hurdy-gurdy, an' played clyte i' the gutter, whereby a' his braw duds were sairly belaggered wi' dirt. 'Mein Gott!' yelled the gurdy man, 'was is you mean by dat? You are vone trunken fellows, you are; you vill haf keel mine pore Jacko.' Afore I had pooer to reply -- for the haill affair occurred in the twinklin' o' an e'e -- Jacko had gathered himsel' oot o' the mud as livin'-like as ever, an not only so, but he had actually scrambled up my back, an' was sittin' grinnin' on my shouther an' turnin' up the hair o' my wig as if lookin' for beasties. Wi' the view of makin' some sma' amends for the evil I had done I put my hand i' my breek pouch an' brocht oot a saxpence, which Jacko snippit oot my haund as nimbly as ye like, an' after viewin' the coin on baith sides, as if to satisfy himsel' as to its genuineness, he sprang frae my shoother on to the tap o' the hurdy-gurdy, an' delivered it up pointedly to his maister, wha lookit very weel pleased at my liberality, an' noddit an' smiled as much as to say that I had amply atoned for my fau't. The precious moments I had lost in balancin' accounts wi' the wandering Orpheus, however, had put sic a distance atween me an' the object o' my pursuit that I was obliged, sair against my will, to recognise the wisdom of giving up the chase, an' retracin' my steps hamewards. I could see neither hilt nor hair of Jenny an' the labster, an' not bein' able tae hunt by the scent, there was naething else for't but to own mysel' beat, which I did wi' a heavy heart. Hame I gaed, expectin' naething less than to hae some words wi' Tibbie aboot the day's proceedin's. The first object I saw on enterin' the door was Jenny Nettles fleein' up the stair to the garret, takin' four staps at a bound, an' wi' her tail spruced oot to the dimensions o' a bottle brush. Hoo she had managed to get hame afore me is mair than I can tell, but cats tak' queer roads sometimes, an' it's no ootside the boonds o' possibility that she may hae taen a short cut ower the roofs o' the neeborin' hooses. 'Ye've been makin' a bonny fule o' yersel', I'm thinkin',' was Tibbie's first observation. 'Hoo did ye rin awa' withoot yer hat?' 'Hat!' quo' I. 'Wha has time to think o' hats when settin' oot on a labster-hunt?' 'An' muckle ye've made o't,' was her next observe. 'Afore I wad had a' the weans i' the neeborhood at my heels, I --' 'Tibbie,' quo' I, stappin' towards her, an' narrowly inspectin' her face, 'hoo's yer nose?' That was evidently a sore point, hooever, an' bein' in an ill-humour, she vouchsafed nae reply to this kindly inquiry but hurried aff to the kitchen, leavin' me to my ain meditations. Resolved to let her cule i' the skin she had het in, I calmly lichtit my pipe an' sat doon to consider the Eastern Question. After comin' till hersel' awee, she returned to the parlour again, an' mildly observed that it was like to turn out a very wet day. I agreed that it was, an' wi' the view o' impartin' additional mollification, I hinted that I wad try next day to get anither labster for her, if sae be she was still in the humour o' tryin' her hand at makin' labster sauce. 'Na, na,' quo' she, gi'en' her head a decisive shake. 'I'm to hae nae mair o' yer labsters i' the hoose. If this is what comes o' their braw cookery eddication I've had eneugh o't. 'Deed, Tammas, in my opinion their cookery skules are juist a curn new-fangled nonsense. If they wad teach workin' men's wives to mak' guid patfu's o' kail for their husbands' dinners, instead o' teachin' braw leddies to waste their substance on labster sauce an' -- an' -- an' flummery o'that kind, they wad do some service to the community, but not itherwise.' I was far frae bein' convinced by this reasonin' that cookery skules are wrang, but I saw clearly eneugh that Tibbie was not then in a suitable frame of mind to be argued wi' on the subject --her nose bein' very much swollen, an therefore I forbore to mak' ony reply, either gude, bad, or indifferent. TAMMAS BODKIN.' |
| (Reproduced from The Language
of the People, William Donaldson (Aberdeen
University Press, 1989)
Return to Episode One, OR back to the Front Cover Onto info about Bodkin's creator, OR travel the roads and the miles to Dundee |
