"We figure to ourselves
The thing we like, and then we build it up
As chance will have it, on the rock or sand."
"About some act,
That has no relish of salvation in it."
Upon the shores of Bute, opposite the rugged, heathery hills of Cowal,
John Campbell had built himself a splendid habitation. People going up and
Down the Kyles were in the habit of pointing out Meriton Mansion, and of
asserting that the owner had risen from extreme poverty to his enviable
position. There was not a word of truth in this story. John Campbell was
the youngest son of Campbell of Drumloch, a gentleman of ancient lineage,
and of considerable wealth. Alexander, his elder son, inherited from him
the castle of Drumloch and the lands pertaining to the name and the
estate; to his younger son John he gave a large sum of money. With this
money he opened a shipping house on the Broomilaw of Glasgow, and
gradually built a fleet of trading vessels, which traversed every known
sea. John Campbell's name had indeed become synonymous for enterprise,
wealth and commercial honor.
The tie between the brothers was always an affectionate one; and when
Alexander died early in life, he left his child and the estate in charge
of John. The estate was much embarrassed, the child was a delicate girl of
nine years. But when ten years had passed the conditions of both were
changed; Mary Campbell had grown to a sweet and charming womanhood, and
Drumloch had paid off its last shilling of mortgage, and was as desirable
an estate as could be found in the west of Scotland.
During these ten years, one desire had dominated all others in John
Campbell's heart--the marriage of his son Allan to the heiress of Drumloch.
It seemed to him the most natural of events, and also the most desirable.
It would keep the old family and name, in the old home. It had been his
brother's dying wish. He might buy his son a much larger and finer estate,
but with gold he could not buy the family associations, and the long,
honorable lineage of Drumloch. The old keep could be enlarged and
beautified; the lands lying far and near could be bought and added to its
domain; and yet Allan could lawfully call himself, "Campbell of Drumloch."
Thus to establish on a broader and richer basis the old home of his
Fathers was the grand object of John Campbell's life. He thought of it
until it became almost a sacred duty in his eyes. For the Scotsman's
acquisitiveness is very rarely destitute of some nobler underlying motive.
In fact, his granite nature is finely marbled throughout with veins of
poetry and romance. His native land is never forgotten. His father's
hearth is as sacred as an altar in his memory. A bluebell or a bit of
heather can bring tears to his eyes; and the lilt of a Jacobite song make
his heart thrill with an impossible loyalty. Those who saw John Campbell
on the Broomilaw would have judged him to be a man indifferent to all
things but money and bills of lading. Those who saw him softly stepping
through the old halls of Drumloch, or standing almost reverently before
the hard grim faces of his ancestors, would have called him an aristocrat
who held all things cheap but an ancient home and a noble family. His son
Allan, as the future Campbell of Drumloch, was an important person in his
eyes; he took care that he was well educated, and early made familiar with
the leisure and means of a fine gentleman. And as Allan was intelligent
and handsome, with a stately carriage and courtly manners, there seemed no
reason why the old root should not produce a new and far more splendid
line.