Infomotions, Inc.Waverley: or, 'Tis sixty years since / Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832



Author: Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832
Title: Waverley: or, 'Tis sixty years since
Publisher: Project Gutenberg
Tag(s): waverley; bradwardine; fergus; edward; baron; vich ian; colonel talbot; colonel; mac; fergus mac; captain waverley; miss bradwardine
Contributor(s): Widger, David, 1932- [Editor]
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Title: Waverley

Author: Sir Walter Scott

Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #2034]

Language: English

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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WAVERLEY ***




Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger





WAVERLEY or 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE


by SIR WALTER SCOTT BART.




CONTENTS:

     INTRODUCTION
     WAVERLEY or 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE
     NOTES
     GLOSSARY


[Note:

Characters that were in italics in the printed text have been written in
capital letters in this Etext. Accents in quotations in French and other
accented languages have been omitted.

Footnotes in the printed text that were at the bottom of the page have
been placed in square brackets, as near as possible to the place where
they were originally referred to by a suffix.

Numbered notes at the end of the book are referred to by the insertion
of references to those notes in square brackets.]




Under which King, Bezonian? speak, or die! Henry IV, Part II.


INTRODUCTION--(1829)

The plan of this Edition leads me to insert in this place some account
of the incidents on which the Novel of WAVERLEY is founded. They have
been already given to the public, by my late lamented friend, William
Erskine, Esq. (afterwards Lord Kinneder), when reviewing the 'Tales of
My Landlord' for the QUARTERLY REVIEW, in 1817. The particulars were
derived by the Critic from the Author's information. Afterwards they
were published in the Preface to the CHRONICLES OF THE CANONGATE. They
are now inserted in their proper place.

The mutual protection afforded by Waverley and Talbot to each other,
upon which the whole plot depends, is founded upon one of those
anecdotes which soften the features even of civil war; and as it is
equally honourable to the memory of both parties, we have no hesitation
to give their names at length. When the Highlanders, on the morning of
the battle of Preston, 1745, made their memorable attack on Sir John
Cope's army, a battery of four field-pieces was stormed and carried by
the Camerons and the Stewarts of Appine. The late Alexander Stewart
of Invernahyle was one of the foremost in the charge, and observing an
officer of the King's forces, who, scorning to join the flight of all
around, remained with his sword in his hand, as if determined to the
very last to defend the post assigned to him, the Highland gentleman
commanded him to surrender, and received for reply a thrust, which
he caught in his target. The officer was now defenceless, and the
battle-axe of a gigantic Highlander (the miller of Invernahyle's mill)
was uplifted to dash his brains out, when Mr. Stewart with difficulty
prevailed on him to yield. He took charge of his enemy's property,
protected his person, and finally obtained him liberty on his parole.
The officer proved to be Colonel Whitefoord, an Ayrshire gentleman
of high character and influence, and warmly attached to the House
of Hanover; yet such was the confidence existing between these two
honourable men, though of different political principles, that while
the civil war was raging, and straggling officers from the Highland army
were executed without mercy, Invernahyle hesitated not to pay his
late captive a visit, as he returned to the Highlands to raise fresh
recruits, on which occasion he spent a day or two in Ayrshire among
Colonel Whitefoord's Whig friends, as pleasantly and as good-humouredly
as if all had been at peace around him.

After the battle of Culloden had ruined the hopes of Charles Edward, and
dispersed his proscribed adherents, it was Colonel Whitefoord's turn to
strain every nerve to obtain Mr. Stewart's pardon. He went to the Lord
Justice-Clerk, to the Lord-Advocate, and to all the officers of state,
and each application was answered by the production of a list, in which
Invernahyle (as the good old gentleman was wont to express it) appeared
'marked with the sign of the beast!' as a subject unfit for favour or
pardon.

At length Colonel Whitefoord applied to the Duke of Cumberland in
person. From him, also, he received a positive refusal. He then limited
his request, for the present, to a protection for Stewart's house, wife,
children, and property. This was also refused by the Duke; on which
Colonel Whitefoord, taking his commission from his bosom, laid it on the
table before his Royal Highness with much emotion, and asked permission
to retire from the service of a sovereign who did not know how to spare
a vanquished enemy. The Duke was struck, and even affected. He bade the
Colonel take up his commission, and granted the protection he required.
If was issued just in time to save the house, corn, and cattle at
Invernahyle, from the troops who were engaged in laying waste what it
was the fashion to call 'the country of the enemy.' A small encampment
of soldiers was formed on Invernahyle's property, which they spared
while plundering the country around, and searching in every direction
for the leaders of the insurrection, and for Stewart in particular. He
was much nearer them than they suspected; for, hidden in a cave (like
the Baron of Bradwardine), he lay for many days so near the English
sentinels, that he could hear their muster-roll called, His food was
brought to him by one of his daughters, a child of eight years old, whom
Mrs. Stewart was under the necessity of entrusting with this commission;
for her own motions, and those of all her elder inmates, were closely
watched. With ingenuity beyond her years, the child used to stray about
among the soldiers, who were rather kind to her, and thus seize the
moment when she was unobserved, and steal into the thicket, when she
deposited whatever small store of provisions she had in charge at some
marked spot, where her father might find it. Invernahyle supported life
for several weeks by means of these precarious supplies; and as he had
been wounded in the battle of Culloden, the hardships which he endured
were aggravated by great bodily pain. After the soldiers had removed
their quarters, he had another remarkable escape.

As he now ventured to his own house at night, and left it in the
morning, he was espied during the dawn by a party of the enemy, who
fired at and pursued him. The fugitive being fortunate enough to escape
their search, they returned to the house, and charged the family with
harbouring one of the proscribed traitors. An old woman had presence
of mind enough to maintain that the man they had seen was the shepherd.
'Why did he not stop when we called to him?' said the soldier.--'He
is as deaf, poor man, as a peat-stack,' answered the ready-witted
domestic.--'Let him be sent for, directly.' The real shepherd
accordingly was brought from the hill, and as there was time to tutor
him by the way, he was as deaf when he made his appearance, as was
necessary to sustain his character. Invernahyle was afterwards pardoned
under the Act of Indemnity.

The Author knew him well, and has often heard these circumstances
from his own mouth. He was a noble specimen of the old Highlander, far
descended, gallant, courteous, and brave, even to chivalry. He had been
OUT, I believe, in 1715 and 1745; was an active partaker in all the
stirring scenes which passed in the Highlands betwixt these memorable
eras; and, I have heard, was remarkable, among other exploits, for
having fought a duel with the broadsword with the celebrated Rob Roy
MacGregor, at the Clachan of Balquhidder.

Invernahyle chanced to be in Edinburgh when Paul Jones came into the
Frith of Forth, and though then an old man, I saw him in arms, and
heard him exult (to use his own words) in the prospect of 'drawing his
claymore once more before he died.' In fact, on that memorable occasion,
when the capital of Scotland was menaced by three trifling sloops or
brigs, scarce fit to have sacked a fishing village, he was the only
man who seemed to propose a plan of resistance. He offered to the
magistrates, if broadswords and dirks could be obtained, to find as many
Highlanders among the lower classes, as would cut off any boat's-crew
who might be sent into a town full of narrow and winding passages, in
which they were like to disperse in quest of plunder. I know not if
his plan was attended to; I rather think it seemed too hazardous to the
constituted authorities, who might not, even at that time, desire to
see arms in Highland hands. A steady and powerful west wind settled the
matter, by sweeping Paul Jones and his vessels out of the Frith.

If there is something degrading in this recollection, it is not
unpleasant to compare it with those of the last war, when Edinburgh,
besides regular forces and militia, furnished a volunteer brigade of
cavalry, infantry, and artillery, to the amount of six thousand men and
upwards, which was in readiness to meet and repel a force of a far more
formidable description than was commanded by the adventurous American.
Time and circumstances change the character of nations and the fate
of cities; and it is some pride to a Scotchman to reflect, that the
independent and manly character of a country willing to entrust its own
protection to the arms of its children, after having been obscured for
half a century, has, during the course of his own lifetime, recovered
its lustre.

Other illustrations of Waverley will be found in the Notes at the foot
of the pages to which they belong. [In this etext they are embedded in
the text in square brackets.] Those which appeared too long to be so
placed are given at the end of the volume.





WAVERLEY or 'TIS SIXTY YEARS SINCE




CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTORY

The title of this work has not been chosen without the grave and solid
deliberation, which matters of importance demand from the prudent. Even
its first, or general denomination, was the result of no common research
or selection, although, according to the example of my predecessors,
I had only to seize upon the most sounding and euphonic surname that
English history or topography affords, and elect it at once as the title
of my work, and the name of my hero. But, alas! what could my readers
have expected from the chivalrous epithets of Howard, Mordaunt,
Mortimer, or Stanley, or from the softer and more sentimental sounds of
Belmour, Belville, Belfield, and Belgrave, but pages of inanity, similar
to those which have been so christened for half a century past? I
must modestly admit I am too diffident of my own merit to place it in
unnecessary opposition to preconceived associations; I have, therefore,
like a maiden knight with his white shield, assumed for my hero,
WAVERLEY, an uncontaminated name, bearing with its sound little of good
or evil, excepting what the reader shall hereafter be pleased to affix
to it. But my second or supplemental title was a matter of much more
difficult election, since that, short as it is, may be held as pledging
the author to some special mode of laying his scene, drawing his
characters, and managing his adventures. Had I, for example, announced
in my frontispiece, 'Waverley, a Tale of other Days,' must not every
novel reader have anticipated a castle scarce less than that of Udolpho,
of which the eastern wing had long been uninhabited, and the keys either
lost, or consigned to the care of some aged butler or housekeeper, whose
trembling steps, about the middle of the second volume, were doomed to
guide the hero, or heroine, to the ruinous precincts? Would not the owl
have shrieked and the cricket cried in my very title-page? and could
it have been possible for me, with a moderate attention to decorum, to
introduce any scene more lively than might be produced by the jocularity
of a clownish but faithful valet, or the garrulous narrative of the
heroine's fille-de-chambre, when rehearsing the stories of blood and
horror which she had heard in the servants' hall? Again, had my title
borne 'Waverley, a Romance from the German,' what head so obtuse as
not to image forth a profligate abbot, an oppressive duke, a secret and
mysterious association of Rosycrucians and Illuminati, with all their
properties of black cowls, caverns, daggers, electrical machines,
trap-doors, and dark-lanterns? Or if I had rather chosen to call my work
a 'Sentimental Tale,' would it not have been a sufficient presage of a
heroine with a profusion of auburn hair, and a harp, the soft solace
of her solitary hours, which she fortunately finds always the means of
transporting from castle to cottage, although she herself be sometimes
obliged to jump out of a two-pair-of-stairs window, and is more than
once bewildered on her journey, alone and on foot, without any guide but
a blowzy peasant girl, whose jargon she hardly can understand? Or again,
if my WAVERLEY had been entitled 'A Tale of the Times,' wouldst thou
not, gentle reader, have demanded from me a dashing sketch of the
fashionable world, a few anecdotes of private scandal thinly veiled,
and if lusciously painted, so much the better? a heroine from Grosvenor
Square, and a hero from the Barouche Club or the Four-in-hand, with a
set of subordinate characters from the elegantes of Queen Anne Street
East, or the dashing heroes of the Bow Street Office? I could proceed in
proving the importance of a title-page, and displaying at the same time
my own intimate knowledge of the particular ingredients necessary to the
composition of romances and novels of various descriptions: but it
is enough, and I scorn to tyrannize longer over the impatience of my
reader, who is doubtless already anxious to know the choice made by an
author so profoundly versed in the different branches of his art.

By fixing, then, the date of my story Sixty Years before the present 1st
November, 1805, I would have my readers understand, that they will meet
in the following pages neither a romance of chivalry, nor a tale of
modern manners; that my hero will neither have iron on his shoulders,
as of yore, nor on the heels of his boots, as is the present fashion of
Bond Street; and that my damsels will neither be clothed 'in purple
and in pall,' like the Lady Alice of an old ballad, nor reduced to the
primitive nakedness of a modern fashionable at a rout. From this my
choice of an era the understanding critic may further presage, that the
object of my tale is more a description of men than manners. A tale of
manners, to be interesting, must either refer to antiquity so great as
to have become venerable, or it must bear a vivid reflection of those
scenes which are passing daily before our eyes, and are interesting
from their novelty. Thus the coat-of-mail of our ancestors, and
the triple-furred pelisse of our modern beaux, may, though for very
different reasons, be equally fit for the array of a fictitious
character; but who, meaning the costume of his hero to be impressive,
would willingly attire him in the court dress of George the Second's
reign, with its no collar, large sleeves, and low pocket-holes? The
same may be urged, with equal truth, of the Gothic hall, which, with its
darkened and tinted windows, its elevated and gloomy roof, and massive
oaken table garnished with boar's-head and rosemary, pheasants and
peacocks, cranes and cygnets, has an excellent effect in fictitious
description. Much may also be gained by a lively display of a modern
fete, such as we have daily recorded in that part of a newspaper
entitled the Mirror of Fashion, if we contrast these, or either of them,
with the splendid formality of an entertainment given Sixty Years since;
and thus it will be readily seen how much the painter of antique or
of fashionable manners gains over him who delineates those of the last
generation.

Considering the disadvantages inseparable from this part of my subject,
I must be understood to have resolved to avoid them as much as possible,
by throwing the force of my narrative upon the characters and passions
of the actors;--those passions common to men in all stages of society,
and which have alike agitated the human heart, whether it throbbed under
the steel corselet of the fifteenth century, the brocaded coat of the
eighteenth, or the blue frock and white dimity waistcoat of the present
day. [Alas! that attire, respectable and gentlemanlike in 1805, or
thereabouts, is now as antiquated as the Author of Waverley has himself
become since that period! The reader of fashion will please to fill up
the costume with an embroidered waistcoat of purple velvet or silk,
and a coat of whatever colour he pleases.] Upon these passions it is
no doubt true that the state of manners and laws casts a necessary
colouring; but the bearings, to use the language of heraldry, remain
the same, though the tincture may be not only different, but opposed in
strong contradistinction. The wrath of our ancestors, for example, was
coloured GULES; it broke forth in acts of open and sanguinary violence
against the objects of its fury. Our malignant feelings, which must
seek gratification through more indirect channels, and undermine the
obstacles which they cannot openly bear down, may be rather said to be
tinctured SABLE. But the deep-ruling impulse is the same in both cases;
and the proud peer who can now only ruin his neighbour according to law,
by protracted suits, is the genuine descendant of the baron who wrapped
the castle of his competitor in flames, and knocked him on the head as
he endeavoured to escape from the conflagration. It is from the great
book of Nature, the same through a thousand editions, whether of
black-letter, or wire-wove and hot-pressed, that I have venturously
essayed to read a chapter to the public. Some favourable opportunities
of contrast have been afforded me, by the state of society in the
northern part of the island at the period of my history, and may serve
at once to vary and to illustrate the moral lessons, which I would
willingly consider as the most important part of my plan; although I
am sensible how short these will fall of their aim, if I shall be found
unable to mix them with amusement,--a task not quite so easy in this
critical generation as it was 'Sixty Years since.'



CHAPTER II

WAVERLEY-HONOUR---A RETROSPECT

It is, then, sixty years since Edward Waverley, the hero of the
following pages, took leave of his family, to join the regiment
of dragoons in which he had lately obtained a commission. It was a
melancholy day at Waverley-Honour when the young officer parted with
Sir Everard, the affectionate old uncle to whose title and estate he was
presumptive heir.

A difference in political opinions had early separated the Baronet
from his younger brother, Richard Waverley, the father of our hero.
Sir Everard had inherited from his sires the whole train of Tory or
High-Church predilections and prejudices, which had distinguished the
house of Waverley since the Great Civil War. Richard, on the contrary,
who was ten years younger, beheld himself born to the fortune of a
second brother, and anticipated neither dignity nor entertainment in
sustaining the character of Will Wimble. He saw early, that, to succeed
in the race of life, it was necessary he should carry as little weight
as possible. Painters talk of the difficulty of expressing the existence
of compound passions in the same features at the same moment: it would
be no less difficult for the moralist to analyse the mixed motives which
unite to form the impulse of our actions. Richard Waverley read and
satisfied himself, from history and sound argument, that, in the words
of the old song,

     Passive obedience was a jest,
     And pshaw!  was non-resistance;

yet reason would have probably been unable to combat and remove
hereditary prejudice, could Richard have anticipated that his elder
brother, Sir Everard, taking to heart an early disappointment, would
have remained a batchelor at seventy-two. The prospect of succession,
however remote, might in that case have led him to endure dragging
through the greater part of his life as 'Master Richard at the Hall,
the baronet's brother,' in the hope that ere its conclusion he should be
distinguished as Sir Richard Waverley of Waverley-Honour, successor to
a princely estate, and to extended political connexions as head of the
county interest in the shire where it lay. But this was a consummation
of things not to be expected at Richard's outset, when Sir Everard was
in the prime of life, and certain to be an acceptable suitor in almost
any family, whether wealth or beauty should be the object of his
pursuit, and when, indeed, his speedy marriage was a report which
regularly amused the neighbourhood once a year. His younger brother saw
no practicable road to independence save that of relying upon his own
exertions, and adopting a political creed more consonant both to reason
and his own interest than the hereditary faith of Sir Everard in High
Church and in the house of Stewart. He therefore read his recantation
at the beginning of his career, and entered life as an avowed Whig, and
friend of the Hanover succession.

The ministry of George the First's time were prudently anxious to
diminish the phalanx of opposition. The Tory nobility, depending for
their reflected lustre upon the sunshine of a court, had for some
time been gradually reconciling themselves to the new dynasty. But the
wealthy country gentlemen of England, a rank which retained, with
much of ancient manners and primitive integrity, a great proportion of
obstinate and unyielding prejudice, stood aloof in haughty and sullen
opposition, and cast many a look of mingled regret and hope to Bois de
Duc, Avignon, and Italy. [Where the Chevalier Saint George, or, as he
was termed, the Old Pretender, held his exiled court, as his situation
compelled him to shift his place of residence.] The accession of the
near relation of one of those steady and inflexible opponents was
considered as a means of bringing over more converts, and therefore
Richard Waverley met with a share of ministerial favour more than
proportioned to his talents or his political importance. It was however,
discovered that he had respectable talents for public business, and the
first admittance to the minister's levee being negotiated, his success
became rapid. Sir Everard learned from the public NEWS-LETTER,--first,
that Richard Waverley, Esquire, was returned for the ministerial borough
of Barterfaith; next, that Richard Waverley, Esquire, had taken a
distinguished part in the debate upon the Excise bill in the support
of government; and, lastly, that Richard Waverley, Esquire, had been
honoured with a seat at one of those boards, where the pleasure of
serving the country is combined with other important gratifications,
which, to render them the more acceptable, occur regularly once a
quarter.

Although these events followed each other so closely that the sagacity
of the editor of a modern newspaper would have presaged the last two
even while he announced the first, yet they came upon Sir Everard
gradually, and drop by drop, as it were, distilled through the cool and
procrastinating alembic of DYER'S WEEKLY LETTER. [Long the oracle of the
country gentlemen of the high Tory party. The ancient NEWS-LETTER was
written in manuscript and copied by clerks, who addressed the copies to
the subscribers. The politician by whom they were compiled picked up
his intelligence at coffee-houses, and often pleaded for an additional
gratuity, in consideration of the extra expense attached to frequenting
such places of fashionable resort.] For it may be observed in passing,
that instead of those mail-coaches, by means of which every mechanic at
his sixpenny club may nightly learn from twenty contradictory channels
the yesterday's news of the capital, a weekly post brought, in those
days, to Waverley-Honour, a WEEKLY INTELLIGENCER, which, after it had
gratified Sir Everard's curiosity, his sister's, and that of his aged
butler, was regularly transferred from the Hall to the Rectory, from
the Rectory to Squire Stubbs' at the Grange, from the Squire to the
Baronet's steward at his neat white house on the heath, from the steward
to the bailiff, and from him through a huge circle of honest dames and
gaffers, by whose hard and horny hands it was generally worn to pieces
in about a month after its arrival.

This slow succession of intelligence was of some advantage to Richard
Waverley in the case before us; for, had the sum total of his enormities
reached the ears of Sir Everard at once, there can be no doubt that the
new commissioner would have had little reason to pique himself on the
success of his politics. The Baronet, although the mildest of human
beings, was not without sensitive points in his character; his brother's
conduct had wounded these deeply; the Waverley estate was fettered by
no entail (for it had never entered into the head of any of its former
possessors that one of their progeny could be guilty of the atrocities
laid by DYER'S LETTER to the door of Richard), and if it had, the
marriage of the proprietor might have been fatal to a collateral heir.
These various ideas floated through the brain of Sir Everard, without,
however, producing any determined conclusion.

He examined the tree of his genealogy, which, emblazoned with many
an emblematic mark of honour and heroic achievement, hung upon the
well-varnished wainscot of his hall. The nearest descendants of Sir
Hildebrand Waverley, failing those of his eldest son Wilfred, of whom
Sir Everard and his brother were the only representatives, were, as this
honoured register informed him (and, indeed, as he himself well knew),
the Waverleys of Highley Park, com. Hants; with whom the main branch, or
rather stock, of the house had renounced all connexion, since the great
lawsuit in 1670.

This degenerate scion had committed a further offence against the
head and source of their gentility, by the intermarriage of their
representative with Judith, heiress of Oliver Bradshawe, of Highley
Park, whose arms, the same with those of Bradshawe the regicide,
they had quartered with the ancient coat of Waverley. These offences,
however, had vanished from Sir Everard's recollection in the heat of his
resentment; and had Lawyer Clippurse, for whom his groom was dispatched
express, arrived but an hour earlier, he might have had the benefit of
drawing a new settlement of the lordship and manor of Waverley-Honour,
with all its dependencies. But an hour of cool reflection is a great
matter, when employed in weighing the comparative evil of two measures,
to neither of which we are internally partial. Lawyer Clippurse found
his patron involved in a deep study, which he was too respectful to
disturb, otherwise than by producing his paper and leathern ink-case, as
prepared to minute his honour's commands. Even this slight manoeuvre
was embarrassing to Sir Everard, who felt it as a reproach to his
indecision. He looked at the attorney with some desire to issue his
fiat, when the sun, emerging from behind a cloud, poured at once its
chequered light through the stained window of the gloomy cabinet in
which they were seated. The Baronet's eye, as he raised it to the
splendour, fell right upon the central scutcheon, impressed with the
same device which his ancestor was said to have borne in the field of
Hastings; three ermines passant, argent, in a field azure, with its
appropriate motto, SANS LACHE. 'May our name rather perish,' exclaimed
Sir Everard, 'than that ancient and loyal symbol should be blended with
the dishonoured insignia of a traitorous Roundhead!'

All this was the effect of the glimpse of a sunbeam, just sufficient to
light Lawyer Clippurse to mend his pen. The pen was mended in vain. The
attorney was dismissed, with directions to hold himself in readiness on
the first summons.

The apparition of Lawyer Clippurse at the Hall occasioned much
speculation in that portion of the world to which Waverley-Honour formed
the centre: but the more judicious politicians of this microcosm augured
yet worse consequences to Richard Waverley from a movement which shortly
followed his apostasy. This was no less than an excursion of the Baronet
in his coach-and-six, with four attendants in rich liveries, to make a
visit of some duration to a noble peer on the confines of the shire, of
untainted descent, steady Tory principles, and the happy father of six
unmarried and accomplished daughters.

Sir Everard's reception in this family was, as it may be easily
conceived, sufficiently favourable; but of the six young ladies,
his taste unfortunately determined him in favour of Lady Emily, the
youngest, who received his attentions with an embarrassment which showed
at once that she durst not decline them, and that they afforded her
anything but pleasure.

Sir Everard could not but perceive something uncommon in the restrained
emotions which the young lady testified at the advances he hazarded;
but, assured by the prudent Countess that they were the natural effects
of a retired education, the sacrifice might have been completed, as
doubtless has happened in many similar instances, had it not been for
the courage of an elder sister, who revealed to the wealthy suitor that
Lady Emily's affections were fixed upon a young soldier of fortune,
a near relation of her own. Sir Everard manifested great emotion on
receiving this intelligence, which was confirmed to him, in a private
interview, by the young lady herself, although under the most dreadful
apprehensions of her father's indignation.

Honour and generosity were hereditary attributes of the house of
Waverley. With a grace and delicacy worthy the hero of a romance, Sir
Everard withdrew his claim to the hand of Lady Emily. He had even,
before leaving Blandeville Castle, the address to extort from her father
a consent to her union with the object of her choice. What arguments he
used on this point cannot exactly be known, for Sir Everard was never
supposed strong in the powers of persuasion; but the young officer,
immediately after this transaction, rose in the army with a rapidity far
surpassing the usual pace of unpatronized professional merit, although,
to outward appearance, that was all he had to depend upon.

The shock which Sir Everard encountered upon this occasion, although
diminished by the consciousness of having acted virtuously and
generously, had its effect upon his future life. His resolution of
marriage had been adopted in a fit of indignation; the labour of
courtship did not quite suit the dignified indolence of his habits; he
had but just escaped the risk of marrying a woman who could never love
him; and his pride could not be greatly flattered by the termination of
his amour, even if his heart had not suffered. The result of the whole
matter was his return to Waverley-Honour without any transfer of his
affections, notwithstanding the sighs and languishments of the fair
tell-tale, who had revealed, in mere sisterly affection, the secret
of Lady Emily's attachment, and in despite of the nods, winks, and
innuendoes of the officious lady mother, and the grave eulogiums which
the Earl pronounced successively on the prudence, and good sense, and
admirable dispositions, of his first, second, third, fourth, and fifth
daughters. The memory of his unsuccessful amour was with Sir Everard,
as with many more of his temper, at once shy, proud, sensitive, and
indolent, a beacon against exposing himself to similar mortification,
pain, and fruitless exertion for the time to come. He continued to
live at Waverley-Honour in the style of an old English gentleman, of an
ancient descent and opulent fortune. His sister, Miss Rachel Waverley,
presided at his table; and they became, by degrees, an old bachelor
and an ancient maiden lady, the gentlest and kindest of the votaries of
celibacy.

The vehemence of Sir Everard's resentment against his brother was but
short-lived; yet his dislike to the Whig and the placeman, though unable
to stimulate him to resume any active measures prejudicial to Richard's
interest in the succession to the family estate, continued to maintain
the coldness between them. Richard knew enough of the world, and of his
brother's temper, to believe that by any ill-considered or precipitate
advances on his part, he might turn passive dislike into a more active
principle. It was accident, therefore, which at length occasioned a
renewal of their intercourse. Richard had married a young woman of rank,
by whose family interest and private fortune he hoped to advance his
career. In her right, he became possessor of a manor of some value, at
the distance of a few miles from Waverley-Honour.

Little Edward, the hero of our tale, then in his fifth year, was their
only child. It chanced that the infant with his maid had strayed one
morning to a mile's distance from the avenue of Brere-wood Lodge, his
father's seat. Their attention was attracted by a carriage drawn by six
stately long-failed black horses, and with as much carving and gilding
as would have done honour to my lord mayor's. It was waiting for
the owner, who was at a little distance inspecting the progress of a
half-built farm-house. I know not whether the boy's nurse had been
a Welsh or a Scotch woman, or in what manner he associated a shield
emblazoned with three ermines with the idea of personal property, but
he no sooner beheld this family emblem, than he stoutly determined on
vindicating his right to the splendid vehicle on which it was displayed.
The Baronet arrived while the boy's maid was in vain endeavouring to
make him desist from his determination to appropriate the gilded coach
and six. The rencontre was at a happy moment for Edward, as his uncle
had been just eyeing wistfully, with something of a feeling like envy,
the chubby boys of the stout yeoman whose mansion was building by his
direction. In the round-faced rosy cherub before him, bearing his eye
and his name, and vindicating a hereditary title to his family affection
and patronage, by means of a tie which Sir Everard held as sacred as
either Garter or Blue Mantle, Providence seemed to have granted to him
the very object best calculated to fill up the void in his hopes and
affections. Sir Everard returned to Waverley Hall upon a led horse which
was kept in readiness for him, while the child and his attendant were
sent home in the carriage to Brere-wood Lodge, with such a message
as opened to Richard Waverley a door of reconciliation with his elder
brother.

Their intercourse, however, though thus renewed, continued to be rather
formal and civil, than partaking of brotherly cordiality; yet it was
sufficient to the wishes of both parties. Sir Everard obtained, in the
frequent society of his little nephew, something on which his hereditary
pride might found the anticipated pleasure of a continuation of his
lineage, and where his kind and gentle affections could at the same
time fully exercise themselves. For Richard Waverley, he beheld in the
growing attachment between the uncle and nephew the means of securing
his son's, if not his own, succession to the hereditary estate, which he
felt would be rather endangered than promoted by any attempt on his own
part towards a closer intimacy with a man of Sir Everard's habits and
opinions.

Thus, by a sort of tacit compromise, little Edward was permitted to pass
the greater part of the year at the Hall, and appeared to stand in
the same intimate relation to both families, although their mutual
intercourse was otherwise limited to formal messages, and more formal
visits. The education of the youth was regulated alternately by the
taste and opinions of his uncle and of his father. But more of this in a
subsequent chapter.



CHAPTER III

EDUCATION

The education of our hero, Edward Waverley, was of a nature somewhat
desultory. In infancy, his health suffered, or was supposed to suffer
(which is quite the same thing), by the air of London. As soon,
therefore, as official duties, attendance on Parliament, or the
prosecution of any of his plans of interest or ambition, called his
father to town, which was his usual residence for eight months in the
year, Edward was transferred to Waverley-Honour, and experienced a total
change of instructors and of lessons, as well as of residence.
This might have been remedied, had his father placed him under the
superintendence of a permanent tutor. But he considered that one of his
choosing would probably have been unacceptable at Waverley-Honour, and
that such a selection as Sir Everard might have made, were the matter
left to him, would have burdened him with a disagreeable inmate, if not
a political spy, in his family. He therefore prevailed upon his private
secretary, a young man of taste and accomplishments, to bestow an hour
or two on Edward's education while at Brere-wood Lodge, and left his
uncle answerable for his improvement in literature while an inmate at
the Hall.

This was in some degree respectably provided for. Sir Everard's
chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his fellowship for declining to
take the oaths at the accession of George I, was not only an excellent
classical scholar, but reasonably skilled in science, and master of most
modern languages. He was, however, old and indulgent, and the recurring
interregnum, during which Edward was entirely freed from his discipline,
occasioned such a relaxation of authority, that the youth was permitted,
in a great measure, to learn as he pleased, what he pleased, and when he
pleased. This slackness of rule might have been ruinous to a boy of
slow understanding, who, feeling labour in the acquisition of
knowledge, would have altogether neglected it, save for the command of a
task-master; and it might have proved equally dangerous to a youth whose
animal spirits were more powerful than his imagination or his feelings,
and whom the irresistible influence of Alma would have engaged in field
sports from morning till night. But the character of Edward Waverley
was remote from either of these. His powers of apprehension were so
uncommonly quick, as almost to resemble intuition, and the chief care of
his preceptor was to prevent him, as a sportsman would phrase it, from
overrunning his game, that is, from acquiring his knowledge in a slight,
flimsy, and inadequate manner. And here the instructor had to combat
another propensity too often united with brilliancy of fancy and
vivacity of talent,--that indolence, namely, of disposition, which
can only be stirred by some strong motive of gratification, and which
renounces study as soon as curiosity is gratified, the pleasure of
conquering the first difficulties exhausted, and the novelty of pursuit
at an end. Edward would throw himself with spirit upon any classical
author of which his preceptor proposed the perusal, make himself master
of the style so far as to understand the story, and if that pleased or
interested him, he finished the volume. But it was in vain to attempt
fixing his attention on critical distinctions of philology, upon
the difference of idiom, the beauty of felicitous expression, or the
artificial combinations of syntax. 'I can read and understand a Latin
author,' said young Edward, with the self-confidence and rash reasoning
of fifteen, 'and Scaliger or Bentley could not do much more.' Alas!
while he was thus permitted to read only for the gratification of his
amusement, he foresaw not that he was losing for ever the opportunity of
acquiring habits of firm and assiduous application, of gaining the art
of controlling, directing, and concentrating the powers of his mind
for earnest investigation,--an art far more essential than even that
intimate acquaintance with classical learning, which is the primary
object of study.

I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity of rendering
instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tasso's infusion of honey into
the medicine prepared for a child; but an age in which children are
taught the driest doctrines by the insinuating method of instructive
games, has little reason to dread the consequences of study being
rendered too serious or severe. The history of England is now reduced
to a game at cards,--the problems of mathematics to puzzles and
riddles,--and the doctrines of arithmetic may, we are assured, be
sufficiently acquired, by spending a few hours a week at a new and
complicated edition of the Royal Game of the Goose. There wants but one
step further, and the Creed and Ten Commandments may be taught in the
same manner, without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate tone of
recital, and devout attention, hitherto exacted from the well governed
childhood of this realm. It may, in the meantime, be subject of
serious consideration, whether those who are accustomed only to acquire
instruction through the medium of amusement, may not be brought to
reject that which approaches under the aspect of study; whether those
who learn history by the cards, may not be led to prefer the means to
the end; and whether, were we to teach religion in the way of sport,
our pupils may not thereby be gradually induced to make sport of their
religion. To our young hero, who was permitted to seek his instruction
only according to the bent of his own mind, and who, of consequence,
only sought it so long as it afforded him amusement, the indulgence of
his tutors was attended with evil consequences, which long continued
to influence his character, happiness, and utility. Edward's power of
imagination and love of literature, although the former was vivid, and
the latter ardent, were so far from affording a remedy to this peculiar
evil, that they rather inflamed and increased its violence. The library
at Waverley-Honour, a large Gothic room, with double arches and a
gallery, contained such a miscellaneous and extensive collection of
volumes as had been assembled together, during the course of two hundred
years, by a family which had been always wealthy, and inclined, of
course, as a mark of splendour, to furnish their shelves with the
current literature of the day, without much scrutiny, or nicety of
discrimination. Throughout this ample realm Edward was permitted to
roam at large. His tutor had his own studies; and church politics and
controversial divinity, together with a love of learned ease, though
they did not withdraw his attention at stated times from the progress
of his patron's presumptive heir, induced him readily to grasp at any
apology for not extending a strict and regulated survey towards his
general studies. Sir Everard had never been himself a student, and,
like his sister Miss Rachel Waverley, he held the common doctrine, that
idleness is incompatible with reading of any kind, and that the mere
tracing the alphabetical characters with the eye is in itself a useful
and meritorious task, without scrupulously considering what ideas
or doctrines they may happen to convey. With a desire of amusement,
therefore, which better discipline might soon have converted into a
thirst for knowledge, young Waverley drove through the sea of books,
like a vessel without a pilot or a rudder. Nothing perhaps increases by
indulgence more than a desultory habit of reading, especially under such
opportunities of gratifying it. I believe one reason why such numerous
instances of erudition occur among the lower ranks is, that, with the
same powers of mind, the poor student is limited to a narrow circle
for indulging his passion for books, and must necessarily make himself
master of the few he possesses ere he can acquire more. Edward, on the
contrary, like the epicure who only deigned to take a single morsel from
the sunny side of a peach, read no volume a moment after it ceased to
excite his curiosity or interest; and it necessarily happened, that the
habit of seeking only this sort of gratification rendered it daily more
difficult of attainment, till the passion for reading, like other strong
appetites, produced by indulgence a sort of satiety.

Ere he attained this indifference, however, he had read, and stored in
a memory of uncommon tenacity, much curious, though ill-arranged and
miscellaneous information. In English literature he was master of
Shakespeare and Milton, of our earlier dramatic authors; of many
picturesque and interesting passages from our old historical chronicles;
and was particularly well acquainted with Spenser, Drayton, and other
poets who have exercised themselves on romantic fiction, of all themes
the most fascinating to a youthful imagination, before the passions have
roused themselves, and demand poetry of a more sentimental description.
In this respect his acquaintance with Italian opened him yet a wider
range. He had perused the numerous romantic poems, which, from the days
of Pulci, have been a favourite exercise of the wits of Italy; and had
sought gratification in the numerous collections of NOVELLE, which were
brought forth by the genius of that elegant though luxurious nation, in
emulation of the DECAMERON. In classical literature, Waverley had made
the usual progress, and read the usual authors; and the French had
afforded him an almost exhaustless collection of memoirs, scarcely more
faithful than romances, and of romances so well written as hardly to be
distinguished from memoirs. The splendid pages of Froissart, with his
heart-stirring and eye-dazzling descriptions of war and of tournaments,
were among his chief favourites; and from those of Brantome and de
la Noue he learned to compare the wild and loose yet superstitious
character of the nobles of the League, with the stern, rigid, and
sometimes turbulent disposition of the Huguenot party. The Spanish had
contributed to his stock of chivalrous and romantic lore. The earlier
literature of the northern nations did not escape the study of one who
read rather to awaken the imagination than to benefit the understanding.
And yet, knowing much that is known but to few, Edward Waverley might
justly be considered as ignorant, since he knew little of what adds
dignify to man, and qualifies him to support and adorn an elevated
situation in society.

The occasional attention of his parents might indeed have been of
service, to prevent the dissipation of mind incidental to such a
desultory course of reading. But his mother died in the seventh year
after the reconciliation between the brothers, and Richard Waverley
himself, who, after this event, resided more constantly in London, was
too much interested in his own plans of wealth and ambition, to notice
more respecting Edward, than that he was of a very bookish turn, and
probably destined to be a bishop. If he could have discovered and
analysed his son's waking dreams, he would have formed a very different
conclusion.



CHAPTER IV

CASTLE-BUILDING

I have already hinted, that the dainty, squeamish, and fastidious taste
acquired by a surfeit of idle reading, had not only rendered our hero
unfit for serious and sober study, it had even disgusted him in some
degree with that in which he had hitherto indulged.

He was in his sixteenth year, when his habits of abstraction and love of
solitude became so much marked, as to excite Sir Everard's affectionate
apprehension. He tried to counterbalance these propensities, by engaging
his nephew in field sports, which had been the chief pleasure of his
own youthful days. But although Edward eagerly carried the gun for one
season, yet when practice had given him some dexterity, the pastime
ceased to afford him amusement.

In the succeeding spring, the perusal of old Isaac Walton's fascinating
volume determined Edward to become 'a brother of the angle.' But of
all diversions which ingenuity ever devised for the relief of idleness,
fishing is the worst qualified to amuse a man who is at once indolent
and impatient; and our hero's rod was speedily flung aside. Society and
example, which, more than any other motives, master and sway the
natural bent of our passions, might have had their usual effect upon the
youthful visionary: but the neighbourhood was thinly inhabited, and the
homebred young squires whom it afforded, were not of a class fit to form
Edward's usual companions, far less to excite him to emulation in the
practice of those pastimes which composed the serious business of their
lives.

There were a few other youths of better education, and a more liberal
character; but from their society also our hero was in some degree
excluded. Sir Everard had, upon the death of Queen Anne, resigned his
seat in Parliament, and, as his age increased and the number of his
contemporaries diminished, had gradually withdrawn himself from
society; so that when, upon any particular occasion, Edward mingled
with accomplished and well-educated young men of his own rank and
expectations, he felt an inferiority in their company, not so much from
deficiency of information, as from the want of the skill to command and
to arrange that which he possessed. A deep and increasing sensibility
added to this dislike of society. The idea of having committed the
slightest solecism in politeness, whether real or imaginary, was agony
to him; for perhaps even guilt itself does not impose upon some minds
so keen a sense of shame and remorse, as a modest, sensitive, and
inexperienced youth feels from the consciousness of having neglected
etiquette, or excited ridicule. Where we are not at ease, we cannot be
happy; and therefore it is not surprising, that Edward Waverley supposed
that he disliked and was unfitted for society, merely because he had
not yet acquired the habit of living in it with ease and comfort, and of
reciprocally giving and receiving pleasure.

The hours he spent with his uncle and aunt were exhausted in listening
to the oft-repeated tale of narrative old age. Yet even there his
imagination, the predominant faculty of his mind, was frequently
excited. Family tradition and genealogical history, upon which much of
Sir Everard's discourse turned, is the very reverse of amber, which,
itself a valuable substance, usually includes flies, straws, and other
trifles; whereas these studies, being themselves very insignificant and
trifling, do nevertheless serve to perpetuate a great deal of what is
rare and valuable in ancient manners, and to record many curious and
minute facts, which could have been preserved and conveyed through no
other medium. If, therefore, Edward Waverley yawned at times over
the dry deduction of his line of ancestors, with their various
intermarriages, and inwardly deprecated the remorseless and protracted
accuracy with which the worthy Sir Everard rehearsed the various degrees
of propinquity between the house of Waverley-Honour and the
doughty barons, knights, and squires, to whom they stood allied; if
(notwithstanding his obligations to the three ermines passant) he
sometimes cursed in his heart the jargon of heraldry, its griffins,
its moldwarps, its wyverns, and its dragons with all the bitterness of
Hotspur himself, there were moments when these communications interested
his fancy and rewarded his attention.

The deeds of Wilibert of Waverley in the Holy Land, his long absence and
perilous adventures, his supposed death, and his return in the evening
when the betrothed of his heart had wedded the hero who had protected
her from insult and oppression during his absence; the generosity with
which the Crusader relinquished his claims, and sought in a neighbouring
cloister that peace which passeth not away; [1]--to these
and similar tales he would hearken till his heart glowed and his
eye glistened. Nor was he less affected, when his aunt, Mrs. Rachel,
narrated the sufferings and fortitude of Lady Alice Waverley during
the Great Civil War. The benevolent features of the venerable spinster
kindled into more majestic expression, as she told how Charles had,
after the field of Worcester, found a day's refuge at Waverley-Honour;
and how, when a troop of cavalry were approaching to search the mansion,
Lady Alice dismissed her youngest son with a handful of domestics,
charging them to make good with their lives an hour's diversion, that
the king might have that space for escape, 'And, God help her,' would
Mrs. Rachel continue, fixing her eyes upon the heroine's portrait as she
spoke, 'full dearly did she purchase the safety of her prince with the
life of her darling child. They brought him here a prisoner, mortally
wounded; and you may trace the drops of his blood from the great hall
door along the little gallery, and up to the saloon, where they laid
him down to die at his mother's feet. But there was comfort exchanged
between them; for he knew from the glance of his mother's eye, that
the purpose of his desperate defence was attained. Ah! I remember,' she
continued, 'I remember well to have seen one that knew and loved him.
Miss Lucy St. Aubin lived and died a maid for his sake, though one of
the most beautiful and wealthy matches in this country; all the world
ran after her, but she wore widow's mourning all her life for poor
William, for they were betrothed though not married, and died in--I
cannot think of the date; but I remember, in the November of that very
year, when she found herself sinking, she desired to be brought to
Waverley-Honour once more, and visited all the places where she had been
with my grand-uncle, and caused the carpets to be raised that she might
trace the impression of his blood, and if tears could have washed it
out, it had not been there now; for there was not a dry eye in the
house. You would have thought, Edward, that the very trees mourned for
her, for their leaves dropped around her without a gust of wind; and,
indeed, she looked like one that would never see them green again.'

From such legends our hero would steal away to indulge the fancies they
excited. In the corner of the large and sombre library, with no other
light than was afforded by the decaying brands on its ponderous and
ample hearth, he would exercise for hours that internal sorcery, by
which past or imaginary events are presented in action, as it were, to
the eye of the muser. Then arose in long and fair array the splendour of
the bridal feast at Waverley Castle; the tall and emaciated form of its
real lord, as he stood in his pilgrim's weeds, an unnoticed spectator of
the festivities of his supposed heir and intended bride; the electrical
shock occasioned by the discovery; the springing of the vassals to arms;
the astonishment of the bridegroom; the terror and confusion of the
bride; the agony with which Wilibert observed that her heart as well as
consent was in these nuptials; the air of dignity, yet of deep feeling,
with which he flung down the half-drawn sword, and turned away for ever
from the house of his ancestors. Then would he change the scene, and
fancy would at his wish represent Aunt Rachel's tragedy. He saw the Lady
Waverley seated in her bower, her ear strained to every sound, her heart
throbbing with double agony, now listening to the decaying echo of the
hoofs of the king's horse, and when that had died away, hearing in
every breeze that shook the trees of the park, the noise of the remote
skirmish. A distant sound is heard like the rushing of a swollen stream;
it comes nearer, and Edward can plainly distinguish the galloping
of horses, the cries and shouts of men, with straggling pistol-shots
between, rolling forwards to the Hall. The lady starts up--a terrified
menial rushes in--but why pursue such a description?

As living in this ideal world became daily more delectable to our hero,
interruption was disagreeable in proportion. The extensive domain that
surrounded the Hall, which, far exceeding the dimensions of a park, was
usually termed Waverley-Chase, had originally been forest ground, and
still, though broken by extensive glades, in which the young deer were
sporting, retained its pristine and savage character. It was traversed
by broad avenues, in many places half grown up with brushwood, where the
beauties of former days used to take their stand to see the stag course
with greyhounds, or to gain an aim at him with the crossbow. In one
spot, distinguished by a moss-grown Gothic monument, which retained the
name of Queen's Standing, Elizabeth herself was said to have pierced
seven bucks with her own arrows. This was a very favourite haunt of
Waverley. At other times, with his gun and his spaniel, which served
as an apology to others, and with a book in his pocket, which perhaps
served as an apology to himself, he used to pursue one of these long
avenues, which, after an ascending sweep of four miles, gradually
narrowed into a rude and contracted path through the cliffy and woody
pass called Mirkwood Dingle, and opened suddenly upon a deep, dark, and
small lake, named, from the same cause, Mirkwood Mere. There stood,
in former times, a solitary tower upon a rock almost surrounded by the
water, which had acquired the name of the Strength of Waverley, because,
in perilous times, it had often been the refuge of the family. There, in
the wars of York and Lancaster, the last adherents of the Red Rose
who dared to maintain her cause, carried on a harassing and predatory
warfare, till the stronghold was reduced by the celebrated Richard of
Gloucester. Here, too, a party of cavaliers long maintained themselves
under Nigel Waverley, elder brother of that William whose fate Aunt
Rachel commemorated. Through these scenes it was that Edward loved to
'chew the cud of sweet and bitter fancy,' and, like a child among his
toys, culled and arranged, from the splendid yet useless imagery and
emblems with which his imagination was stored, visions as brilliant and
as fading as those of an evening sky. The effect of this indulgence upon
his temper and character will appear in the next chapter.



CHAPTER V

CHOICE OF A PROFESSION

From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverley's pursuits, and
the bias which these unavoidably communicated to his imagination, the
reader may perhaps anticipate, in the following tale, an imitation of
the romance of Cervantes. But he will do my prudence injustice in the
supposition. My intention is not to follow the steps of that inimitable
author, in describing such total perversion of intellect as misconstrues
the objects actually presented to the senses, but that more common
aberration from sound judgement, which apprehends occurrences indeed in
their reality, but communicates to them a tincture of its own romantic
tone and colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expecting general
sympathy with his own feelings, or concluding that the present state of
things was calculated to exhibit the reality of those visions in which
he loved to indulge, that he dreaded nothing more than the detection
of such sentiments as were dictated by his musings, he neither had nor
wished to have a confidant, with whom to communicate his reveries; and
so sensible was he of the ridicule attached to them, that, had he been
to choose between any punishment short of ignominy, and the necessity of
giving a cold and composed account of the ideal world in which he lived
the better part of his days, I think he would not have hesitated to
prefer the former infliction. This secrecy became doubly precious, as he
felt in advancing life the influence of the awakening passions. Female
forms of exquisite grace and beauty began to mingle in his mental
adventures; nor was he long without looking abroad to compare the
creatures of his own imagination with the females of actual life.

The list of the beauties who displayed their hebdomadal finery at the
parish church of Waverley was neither numerous nor select. By far the
most passable was Miss Sissly, or, as she rather chose to be called,
Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter of Squire Stubbs at the Grange. I know not
whether it was by the 'merest accident in the world,' a phrase which,
from female lips, does not always exclude MALICE PREPENSE, or whether it
was from a conformity of taste, that Miss Cecilia more than once crossed
Edward in his favourite walks through Waverley-Chase. He had not as yet
assumed courage to accost her on these occasions; but the meeting was
not without its effect. A romantic lover is a strange idolater,
who sometimes cares not out of what log he frames the object of his
adoration; at least, if nature has given that object any passable
proportion of personal charms, he can easily play the jeweller and
Dervise in the Oriental tale, [See Hoppner's tale of The Seven Lovers.]
and supply her richly, out of the stores of his own imagination, with
supernatural beauty, and all the properties of intellectual wealth.

But ere the charms of Miss Cecilia Stubbs had erected her into a
positive goddess, or elevated her at least to a level with the saint her
namesake, Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimation which determined
her to prevent the approaching apotheosis. Even the most simple and
unsuspicious of the female sex have (God bless them!) an instinctive
sharpness of perception in such matters, which sometimes goes the length
of observing partialities that never existed, but rarely misses to
detect such as pass actually under their observation. Mrs. Rachel
applied herself with great prudence, not to combat, but to elude, the
approaching danger, and suggested to her brother the necessity that
the heir of his house should see something more of the world than was
consistent with constant residence at Waverley-Honour.

Sir Everard would not at first listen to a proposal which went to
separate his nephew from him. Edward was a little bookish, he admitted;
but youth, he had always heard, was the season for learning, and, no
doubt, when his rage for letters was abated, and his head fully stocked
with knowledge, his nephew would take to field sports and country
business. He had often, he said, himself regretted that he had not spent
some time in study during his youth: he would neither have shot nor
hunted with less skill, and he might have made the roof of St. Stephen's
echo to longer orations than were comprised in those zealous Noes, with
which, when a member of the House during Godolphin's administration, he
encountered every measure of government.

Aunt Rachel's anxiety, however, lent her address to carry her point.
Every representative of their house had visited foreign parts, or served
his country in the army, before he settled for life at Waverley-Honour,
and she appealed for the truth of her assertion to the genealogical
pedigree, an authority which Sir Everard was never known to contradict.
In short, a proposal was made to Mr. Richard Waverley that his son
should travel, under the direction of his present tutor, Mr. Pembroke,
with a suitable allowance from the baronet's liberality. The father
himself saw no objection to this overture; but upon mentioning it
casually at the table of the Minister, the great man looked grave.
The reason was explained in private. The unhappy turn of Sir Everard's
politics, the Minister observed, was such as would render it highly
improper that a young gentleman of such hopeful prospects should travel
on the Continent with a tutor doubtless of his uncle's choosing,
and directing his course by his instructions. What might Mr. Edward
Waverley's society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all manner of snares
were spread by the Pretender and his sons--these were points for Mr.
Waverley to consider. This he could himself say, that he knew his
Majesty had such a just sense of Mr. Richard Waverley's merits, that if
his son adopted the army for a few years, a troop, he believed, might
be reckoned upon in one of the dragoon regiments lately returned from
Flanders.

A hint thus conveyed and enforced was not to be neglected with impunity;
and Richard Waverley, though with great dread of shocking his brother's
prejudices, deemed he could not avoid accepting the commission thus
offered him for his son. The truth is, he calculated much, and justly,
upon Sir Everard's fondness for Edward, which made him unlikely to
resent any step that he might take in due submission to parental
authority. Two letters announced this determination to the Baronet and
his nephew. The latter barely communicated the fact, and pointed out the
necessary preparation for joining his regiment. To his brother, Richard
was more diffuse and circuitous. He coincided with him in the most
flattering manner, in the propriety of his son's seeing a little more
of the world, and was even humble in expressions of gratitude for his
proposed assistance; was, however, deeply concerned that it was now,
unfortunately, not in Edward's power exactly to comply with the plan
which had been chalked out by his best friend and benefactor. He himself
had thought with pain on the boy's inactivity, at an age when all his
ancestors had borne arms; even Royalty itself had deigned to inquire
whether young Waverley was not now in Flanders, at an age when his
grandfather was already bleeding for his king in the Great Civil War.
This was accompanied by an offer of a troop of horse. What could he
do? There was no time to consult his brother's inclinations, even if he
could have conceived there might be objections on his part to his
nephew's following the glorious career of his predecessors. And, in
short, that Edward was now (the intermediate steps of cornet and
lieutenant being overleapt with great agility) Captain Waverley, of
Gardiner's regiment of dragoons, which he must join in their quarters
at Dundee in Scotland, in the course of a month.

Sir Everard Waverley received this intimation with a mixture of
feelings. At the period of the Hanoverian succession he had withdrawn
from Parliament, and his conduct, in the memorable year 1715, had not
been altogether unsuspected. There were reports of private musters
of tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase by moonlight, and of cases of
carbines and pistols purchased in Holland, and addressed to the Baronet,
but intercepted by the vigilance of a riding officer of the excise,
who was afterwards tossed in a blanket on a moonless night, by an
association of stout yeomen, for his officiousness. Nay, it was even
said, that at the arrest of Sir William Wyndham, the leader of the
Tory party, a letter from Sir Everard was found in the pocket of his
night-gown. But there was no overt act which an attainder could be
founded on; and government, contented with suppressing the insurrection
of 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to push their vengeance
further than against those unfortunate gentlemen who actually took up
arms.

Nor did Sir Everard's apprehensions of personal consequences seem to
correspond with the reports spread among his Whig neighbours. It was
well known that he had supplied with money several of the distressed
Northumbrians and Scotchmen, who, after being made prisoners at Preston
in Lancashire, were imprisoned in Newgate and the Marshalsea; and it was
his solicitor and ordinary counsel who conducted the defence of some of
these unfortunate gentlemen at their trial. It was generally supposed,
however, that, had ministers possessed any real proof of Sir Everard's
accession to the rebellion, he either would not have ventured thus to
brave the existing government, or at least would not have done so with
impunity. The feelings which then dictated his proceedings, were
those of a young man, and at an agitating period. Since that time Sir
Everard's jacobitism had been gradually decaying, like a fire which
burns out for want of fuel. His Tory and High Church principles were
kept up by some occasional exercise at elections and quarter-sessions:
but those respecting hereditary right were fallen into a sort of
abeyance. Yet it jarred severely upon his feelings, that his nephew
should go into the army under the Brunswick dynasty; and the more
so, as, independent of his high and conscientious ideas of paternal
authority, it was impossible, or at least highly imprudent, to interfere
authoritatively to prevent it. This suppressed vexation gave rise to
many poohs and pshaws, which were placed to the account of an incipient
fit of gout, until, having sent for the Army List, the worthy Baronet
consoled himself with reckoning the descendants of the houses of genuine
loyalty, Mordaunts, Granvilles, and Stanleys, whose names were to be
found in that military record; and, calling up all his feelings of
family grandeur and warlike glory, he concluded, with logic something
like Falstaff's, that when war was at hand, although it were shame to
be on any side but one, it were worse shame to be idle than to be on the
worst side, though blacker than usurpation could make it. As for Aunt
Rachel, her scheme had not exactly terminated according to her wishes,
but she was under the necessity of submitting to circumstances; and her
mortification was diverted by the employment she found in fitting out
her nephew for the campaign, and greatly consoled by the prospect of
beholding him blaze in complete uniform.

Edward Waverley himself received with animated and undefined surprise
this most unexpected intelligence. It was, as a fine old poem expresses
it, 'like a fire to heather set,' that covers a solitary hill with
smoke, and illumines it at the same time with dusky fire. His tutor,
or, I should say, Mr. Pembroke, for he scarce assumed the name of tutor,
picked up about Edward's room some fragments of irregular verse, which
he appeared to have composed under the influence of the agitating
feelings occasioned by this sudden page being turned up to him in the
book of life. The doctor, who was a believer in all poetry which was
composed by his friends, and written out in fair straight lines, with
a capital at the beginning of each, communicated this treasure to Aunt
Rachel, who, with her spectacles dimmed with tears, transferred them to
her commonplace book, among choice receipts for cookery and medicine,
favourite texts, and portions from High Church divines, and a few songs,
amatory and jacobitical, which she had carolled in her younger days,
from whence her nephew's poetical TENTAMINA were extracted, when the
volume itself, with other authentic records of the Waverley family,
were exposed to the inspection of the unworthy editor of this memorable
history. If they afford the reader no higher amusement, they will serve,
at least, better than narrative of any kind, to acquaint him with the
wild and irregular spirit of our hero:--

     Late when the Autumn evening fell
     On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell,
     The lake returned, in chastened gleam,
     The purple cloud, the golden beam:
     Reflected in the crystal pool,
     Headand and bank lay fair and cool;
     The weather-tinted rock and tower,
     Each drooping tree, each fairy flower,
     So true, so soft, the mirror gave,
     As if there lay beneath the wave,
     Secure from trouble, toil, and care,
     A world than earthly world more fair.

     But distant winds began to wake,
     And roused the Genius of the Lake!
     He heard the groaning of the oak,
     And donned at once his sable cloak,
     As warrior, at the battle-cry,
     Invests him with his panoply:
     Then as the whirlwind nearer pressed,
     He 'gan to shake his foamy crest
     O'er furrowed brow and blackened cheek,
     And bade his surge in thunder speak.
     In wild and broken eddies whirled,
     Flitted that fond ideal world,
     And, to the shore in tumult tost,
     The realms of fairy bliss were lost.

     Yet, with a stern delight and strange,
     I saw the spirit-stirring change,
     As warred the wind with wave and wood.
     Upon the ruined tower I stood,
     And felt my heart more strongly bound,
     Responsive to the lofty sound,
     While, joying in the mighty roar,
     I mourned that tranquil scene no more.

     So, on the idle dreams of youth,
     Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth,
     Bids each fair vision pass away,
     Like landscape on the lake that lay,
     As fair, as flitting, and as frail,
     As that which fled the Autumn gale.--
     For ever dead to fancy's eye
     Be each gay form that glided by,
     While dreams of love and lady's charms
     Give place to honour and to arms!

In sober prose, as perhaps these verses intimate less decidedly, the
transient idea of Miss Cecilia Stubbs passed from Captain Waverley's
heart amid the turmoil which his new destinies excited. She appeared,
indeed, in full splendour in her father's pew upon the Sunday when he
attended service for the last time at the old parish church, upon which
occasion, at the request of his uncle and Aunt Rachel, he was induced
(nothing loth, if the truth must be told) to present himself in full
uniform.

There is no better antidote against entertaining too high an opinion of
others, than having an excellent one of ourselves at the very same time.
Miss Stubbs had indeed summoned up every assistance which art could
afford to beauty; but, alas! hoop, patches, frizzled locks, and a
new mantua of genuine French silk, were lost upon a young officer of
dragoons, who wore, for the first time, his gold-laced hat, jack-boots,
and broadsword. I know not whether, like the champion of an old ballad,

     His heart was all on honour bent,
     He could not stoop to love;
     No lady in the land had power
     His frozen heart to move;

or whether the deep and flaming bars of embroidered gold, which now
fenced his breast, defied the artillery of Cecilia's eyes; but every
arrow was launched at him in vain.

     Yet did I mark where Cupid's shaft did light;
     It lighted not on little western flower,
     But on bold yeoman, flower of all the west,
     Hight Jonas Culbertfield, the steward's son.

Craving pardon for my heroics (which I am unable in certain cases to
resist giving way to), it is a melancholy fact, that my history must
here take leave of the fair Cecilia, who, like many a daughter of Eve,
after the departure of Edward, and the dissipation of certain idle
visions which she had adopted, quietly contented herself with a
PIS-ALLER, and gave her hand, at the distance of six months, to the
aforesaid Jonas, son of the Baronet's steward, and heir (no unfertile
prospect) to a steward's fortune; besides the snug probability of
succeeding to his father's office. All these advantages moved Squire
Stubbs, as much as the ruddy brow and manly form of the suitor
influenced his daughter, to abate somewhat in the article of their
gentry; and so the match was concluded. None seemed more gratified
than Aunt Rachel, who had hitherto looked rather askance upon the
presumptuous damsel (as much so, peradventure, as her nature would
permit), but who, on the first appearance of the new-married pair
at church, honoured the bride with a smile and a profound curtsy,
in presence of the rector, the curate, the clerk, and the whole
congregation of the united parishes of Waverley CUM Beverley.

I beg pardon, once and for all, of those readers who take up novels
merely for amusement, for plaguing them so long with old-fashioned
politics, and Whig and Tory, and Hanoverians and Jacobites, The truth
is, I cannot promise them that this story shall be intelligible, not
to say probable, without it. My plan requires that I should explain the
motives on which its action proceeded; and these motives necessarily
arose from the feelings, prejudices, and parties of the times. I do not
invite my fair readers, whose sex and impatience give them the greatest
right to complain of these circumstances, into a flying chariot drawn
by hippogriffs, or moved by enchantment. Mine is a humble English
post-chaise, drawn upon four wheels, and keeping his Majesty's highway.
Such as dislike the vehicle may leave it at the next halt, and wait
for the conveyance of Prince Hussein's tapestry, or Malek the Weaver's
flying sentry-box. Those who are contented to remain with me will be
occasionally exposed to the dullness inseparable from heavy roads, steep
hills, sloughs, and other terrestrial retardations; but, with tolerable
horses and a civil driver (as the advertisements have it), I engage to
get as soon as possible into a more picturesque and romantic country,
if my passengers incline to have some patience with me during my first
stages. [These Introductory Chapters have been a good deal censured as
tedious and unnecessary. Yet there are circumstances recorded in them
which the author has not been able to persuade himself to retract or
cancel.]



CHAPTER VI

THE ADIEUS OF WAVERLEY

It was upon the evening of this memorable Sunday that Sir Everard
entered the library, where he narrowly missed surprising our young hero
as he went through the guards of the broadsword with the ancient weapon
of old Sir Hildebrand, which, being preserved as an heirloom, usually
hung over the chimney in the library, beneath a picture of the knight
and his horse, where the features were almost entirely hidden by the
knight's profusion of curled hair, and the Bucephalus which he bestrode
concealed by the voluminous robes of the Bath with which he was
decorated. Sir Everard entered, and after a glance at the picture and
another at his nephew, began a little speech, which, however, soon
dropped into the natural simplicity of his common manner, agitated upon
the present occasion by no common feeling. 'Nephew,' he said; and then,
as mending his phrase, 'My dear Edward, it is God's will, and also the
will of your father, whom, under God, it is your duty to obey, that you
should leave us to take up the profession of arms, in which so many of
your ancestors have been distinguished. I have made such arrangements
as will enable you to take the field as their descendant, and as the
probable heir of the house of Waverley; and, sir, in the field of battle
you will remember what name you bear. And, Edward, my dear boy, remember
also that you are the last of that race, and the only hope of its
revival depends upon you; therefore, as far as duty and honour will
permit, avoid danger--I mean unnecessary danger--and keep no company
with rakes, gamblers, and Whigs, of whom, it is to be feared, there are
but too many in the service into which you are going. Your colonel, as
I am informed, is an excellent man--for a Presbyterian; but you will
remember your duty to God, the Church of England, and the--' (this
breach ought to have been supplied, according to the rubric, with
the word KING; but as, unfortunately, that word conveyed a double and
embarrassing sense, one meaning DE FACTO, and the other DE JURE, the
knight filled up the blank otherwise)--'the Church of England, and all
constituted authorities.' Then, not trusting himself with any further
oratory, he carried his nephew to his stables to see the horses destined
for his campaign. Two were black (the regimental colour), superb
chargers both; the other three were stout active hacks, designed for
the road, or for his domestics, of whom two were to attend him from the
Hall: an additional groom, if necessary, might be picked up in Scotland.

'You will depart with but a small retinue,' quoth the Baronet, 'compared
to Sir Hildebrand, when he mustered before the gate of the Hall a larger
body of horse than your whole regiment consists of. I could have wished
that these twenty young fellows from my estate, who have enlisted in
your troop, had been to march with you on your journey to Scotland.
It would have been something, at least; but I am told their attendance
would be thought unusual in these days, when every new and foolish
fashion is introduced to break the natural dependence of the people upon
their landlords.'

Sir Everard had done his best to correct this unnatural disposition of
the times; for he had brightened the chain of attachment between the
recruits and their young captain, not only by a copious repast of beef
and ale, by way of parting feast, but by such a pecuniary donation to
each individual, as tended rather to improve the conviviality than the
discipline of their march. After inspecting the cavalry, Sir Everard
again conducted his nephew to the library, where he produced a letter,
carefully folded, surrounded by a little stripe of flox-silk, according
to ancient form, and sealed with an accurate impression of the Waverley
coat-of-arms. It was addressed, with great formality, 'To Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine, Esq. of Bradwardine, at his principal mansion of
Tully-Veolan, in Perthshire, North Britain, These--By the hands
of Captain Edward Waverley, nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of
Waverley-Honour, Bart.'

The gentleman to whom this enormous greeting was addressed, of whom we
shall have more to say in the sequel, had been in arms for the exiled
family of Stuart in the year 1715, and was made prisoner at Preston in
Lancashire. He was of a very ancient family, and somewhat embarrassed
fortune; a scholar, according to the scholarship of Scotchmen, that is,
his learning was more diffuse than accurate, and he was rather a reader
than a grammarian. Of his zeal for the classic authors he is said to
have given an uncommon instance. On the road between Preston and London
he made his escape from his guards; but being afterwards found
loitering near the place where they had lodged the former night, he was
recognized, and again arrested. His companions, and even his escort,
were surprised at his infatuation, and could not help inquiring, why,
being once at liberty, he had not made the best of his way to a place of
safety; to which he replied, that he had intended to do so, but, in good
faith, he had returned to seek his Titus Livius, which he had forgot in
the hurry of his escape. [2] The simplicity of this anecdote
struck the gentleman, who, as we before observed, had managed the
defence of some of those unfortunate persons, at the expense of Sir
Everard, and perhaps some others of the party. He was, besides, himself
a special admirer of the old Patavinian; and though probably his own
zeal might not have carried him such extravagant lengths, even to
recover the edition of Sweynheim and Pannartz (supposed to be the
princeps), he did not the less estimate the devotion of the North
Briton, and in consequence exerted himself to so much purpose to remove
and soften evidence, detect legal flaws, ET CETERA, that he accomplished
the final discharge and deliverance of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine from
certain very awkward consequences of a plea before our sovereign lord
the king in Westminster.

The Baron of Bradwardine, for he was generally so called in Scotland
(although his intimates, from his place of residence, used to denominate
him. Tully-Veolan, or more familiarly, Tully), no sooner stood RECTUS
IN CURIA, than he posted down to pay his respects and make his
acknowledgements at Waverley-Honour. A congenial passion for field
sports, and a general coincidence in political opinions, cemented his
friendship with Sir Everard, notwithstanding the difference of their
habits and studies in other particulars; and, having spent several weeks
at Waverley-Honour, the Baron departed with many expressions of regard,
warmly pressing the Baronet to return his visit, and partake of the
diversion of grouse-shooting upon his moors in Perthshire next
season. Shortly after, Mr. Bradwardine remitted from Scotland a sum
in reimbursement of expenses incurred in the King's High Court of
Westminster, which, although not quite so formidable when reduced to
the English denomination, had, in its original form of Scotch pounds,
shillings, and pence, such a formidable effect upon the frame of Duncan
Macwheeble, the laird's confidential factor, baron-bailie, and man of
resource, that he had a fit of the colic which lasted for five days,
occasioned, he said, solely and utterly by becoming the unhappy
instrument of conveying such a serious sum of money out of his native
country into the hands of the false English. But patriotism as it is the
fairest, so it is often the most suspicious mask of other feelings;
and many who knew Bailie Macwheeble, concluded that his professions of
regret were not altogether disinterested, and that he would have grudged
the moneys paid to the LOONS at Westminster much less had they not come
from Bradwardine estate, a fund which he considered as more particularly
his own. But the Bailie protested he was absolutely disinterested--

     Woe, woe, for Scotland, not a whit for me!

The laird was only rejoiced that his worthy friend, Sir Everard Waverley
of Waverley-Honour, was reimbursed of the expenditure which he had
outlaid on account of the house of Bradwardine. It concerned, he said,
the credit of his own family, and of the kingdom of Scotland at large,
that these disbursements should be repaid forthwith, and, if delayed, if
would be a matter of national reproach. Sir Everard, accustomed to treat
much larger sums with indifference, received the remittance of 294l.
13s. 6d., without being aware that the payment was an international
concern, and, indeed, would probably have forgot the circumstance
altogether, if Bailie Macwheeble had thought of comforting his colic by
intercepting the subsidy. A yearly intercourse took place, of a short
letter, and a hamper or a cask or two, between Waverley-Honour and
Tully-Veolan, the English exports consisting of mighty cheeses and
mightier ale, pheasants and venison, and the Scottish returns being
vested in grouse, white hares, pickled salmon, and usquebaugh. All which
were meant, sent, and received, as pledges of constant friendship and
amity between two important houses. It followed as a matter of course,
that the heir-apparent of Waverley-Honour could not, with propriety,
visit Scotland without being furnished with credentials to the Baron of
Bradwardine.

When this matter was explained and settled, Mr. Pembroke expressed his
wish to take a private and particular leave of his dear pupil. The good
man's exhortations to Edward to preserve an unblemished life and morals,
to hold fast the principles of the Christian religion, and to eschew the
profane company of scoffers and latitudinarians, too much abounding
in the army, were not unmingled with his political prejudices. It had
pleased Heaven, he said, to place Scotland (doubtless for the sins of
their ancestors in 1642) in a more deplorable state of darkness than
even this unhappy kingdom of England. Here, at least, although the
candlestick of the Church of England had been in some degree removed
from its place, it yet afforded a glimmering light; there was a
hierarchy, though schismatical, and fallen from the principles
maintained by those great fathers of the church, Sancroft and his
brethren; there was a liturgy, though wofully perverted in some of
the principal petitions. But in Scotland it was utter darkness; and,
excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and persecuted remnant, the pulpits
were abandoned to Presbyterians, and he feared, to sectaries of every
description. It should be his duty to fortify his dear pupil to resist
such unhallowed and pernicious doctrines in church and state, as must
necessarily be forced at times upon his unwilling ears.

Here he produced two immense folded packets, which appeared each to
contain a whole ream of closely-written manuscript. They had been the
labour of the worthy man's whole life; and never were labour and zeal
more absurdly wasted. He had at one time gone to London, with the
intention of giving them to the world, by the medium of a bookseller in
Little Britain, well known to deal in such commodities, and to whom he
was instructed to address himself in a particular phrase, and with a
certain sign, which, it seems, passed at that time current among the
initiated Jacobites. The moment Mr. Pembroke had uttered the
shibboleth, with the appropriate gesture, the bibliopolist greeted
him, notwithstanding every disclamation, by the title of Doctor, and
conveying him into his back shop, after inspecting every possible and
impossible place of concealment, he commenced: 'Eh, doctor! Well--all
under the rose--snug--I keep no holes here even for a Hanoverian rat
to hide in. And, what--eh! any good news from our friends over the
water?--and how does the worthy king of France? Or perhaps you are more
lately from Rome?--it must be Rome will do it at last--the church must
light its candle at the old lamp. Eh! what, cautious? I like you the
better; but no fear.'

Here Mr. Pembroke, with some difficulty, stopped a torrent of
interrogations, eked out with signs, nods, and winks; and, having at
length convinced the bookseller that he did him too much honour in
supposing him an emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his actual
business.

The man of books, with a much more composed air, proceeded to examine
the manuscripts. The title of the first was 'A Dissent from Dissenters,
or the Comprehension confuted; showing the Impossibility of any
Composition between the Church and Puritans, Presbyterians, or Sectaries
of any Description; illustrated from the Scriptures, the fathers of
the Church, and the soundest Controversial Divines.' To this work the
bookseller positively demurred. 'Well meant,' he said, 'and learned,
doubtless; but the time had gone by. Printed on small pica it would
run to eight hundred pages, and could never pay. Begged therefore to be
excused. Loved and honoured the true church from his soul; and, had it
been a sermon on the martyrdom, or any twelve-penny touch--why I would
venture something for the honour of the cloth. But come, let's see
the other. 'Right Hereditary righted!' ah, there's some sense in this!
Hum--hum--hum--pages so many, paper so much, letterpress--Ah! I'll tell
you, though, doctor, you must knock out some of the Latin and Greek;
heavy, doctor, damn'd heavy--(beg your pardon) and if you throw in a
few grains more pepper--I am he that never peached my author--I have
published for Drake, and Charlwood Lawton, and poor Amhurst. [3]--Ah,
Caleb! Caleb! Well, it was a shame to let poor Caleb starve,
and so many fat rectors and squires among us. I gave him a dinner once
a week; but, Lord love you, what's once a week, when a man does not know
where to go the other six days?--Well, but I must show the manuscript
to little Tom Alibi the solicitor, who manages all my law affairs--must
keep on the windy side--the mob were very uncivil the last time I
mounted in Old Palace Yard--all Whigs and Roundheads every man of them,
Williamites and Hanover rats.'

The next day Mr. Pembroke again called on the publisher, but found Tom
Alibi's advice had determined him against undertaking the work. 'Not but
what I would go to--(what was I going to say?) to the Plantations for
the church with pleasure--but, dear doctor, I have a wife and family;
but, to show my zeal, I'll recommend the job to my neighbour Trimmel--he
is a bachelor, and leaving off business, so a voyage in a western barge
would not inconvenience him.' But Mr. Trimmel was also obdurate, and Mr.
Pembroke, fortunately perchance for himself, was compelled to return to
Waverley-Honour with his treatise in vindication of the real fundamental
principles of church and state safely packed in his saddle-bags.

As the public were thus likely to be deprived of the benefit arising
from his lucubrations by the selfish cowardice of the trade, Mr.
Pembroke resolved to make two copies of these tremendous manuscripts for
the use of his pupil. He felt that he had been indolent as a tutor, and,
besides, his conscience checked him for complying with the request of
Mr. Richard Waverley, that he would impress no sentiments upon Edward's
mind inconsistent with the present settlement in church and state. But
now, thought he, I may, without breach of my word, since he is no longer
under my tuition, afford the youth the means of judging for himself, and
have only to dread his reproaches for so long concealing the light
which the perusal will flash upon his mind. While he thus indulged the
reveries of an author and a politician, his darling proselyte, seeing
nothing very inviting in the title of the tracts, and appalled by the
bulk and compact lines of the manuscript, quietly consigned them to a
corner of his travelling trunk.

Aunt Rachel's farewell was brief and affectionate. She only cautioned
her dear Edward, whom she probably deemed somewhat susceptible, against
the fascination of Scottish beauty. She allowed that the northern part
of the island contained some ancient families, but they were all Whigs
and Presbyterians except the Highlanders; and respecting them she must
needs say, there could be no great delicacy among the ladies, where the
gentlemen's usual attire was, as she had been assured, to say the least,
very singular, and not at all decorous. She concluded her farewell with
a kind and moving benediction, and gave the young officer, as a pledge
of her regard, a valuable diamond ring (often worn by the male sex
at that time), and a purse of broad gold pieces, which also were more
common Sixty Years since than they have been of late.



CHAPTER VII

A HORSE-QUARTER IN SCOTLAND

The next morning, amid varied feelings, the chief of which was a
predominant, anxious, and even solemn impression, that he was now in
a great measure abandoned to his own guidance and direction, Edward
Waverley departed from the Hall amid the blessings and tears of all the
old domestics and the inhabitants of the village, mingled with some sly
petitions for sergeantcies and corporalships, and so forth, on the part
of those who professed that 'they never thoft to ha' seen Jacob, and
Giles, and Jonathan, go off for soldiers, save to attend his honour, as
in duty bound.' Edward, as in duty bound, extricated himself from the
supplicants with the pledge of fewer promises than might have been
expected from a young man so little accustomed to the world. After a
short visit to London, he proceeded on horseback, then the general mode
of travelling, to Edinburgh, and from thence to Dundee, a seaport on the
eastern coast of Angus-shire, where his regiment was then quartered.

He now entered upon a new world, where, for a time, all was beautiful
because all was new. Colonel Gardiner, the commanding officer of the
regiment, was himself a study for a romantic, and at the same time an
inquisitive, youth. In person he was tall, handsome, and active, though
somewhat advanced in life. In his early years, he had been what is
called, by manner of palliative, a very gay young man, and strange
stories were circulated about his sudden conversion from doubt, if not
infidelity, to a serious and even enthusiastic turn of mind. It was
whispered that a supernatural communication, of a nature obvious even to
the exterior senses, had produced this wonderful change; and though some
mentioned the proselyte as an enthusiast, none hinted at his being a
hypocrite. This singular and mystical circumstance gave Colonel Gardiner
a peculiar and solemn interest in the eyes of the young soldier. [4]
It may be easily imagined that the officers of a regiment,
commanded by so respectable a person, composed a society more sedate and
orderly than a military mess always exhibits; and that Waverley escaped
some temptations to which he might otherwise have been exposed.

Meanwhile his military education proceeded. Already a good horseman, he
was now initiated into the arts of the manege, which, when carried to
perfection, almost realize the fable of the Centaur, the guidance of the
horse appearing to proceed from the rider's mere volition, rather than
from the use of any external and apparent signal of motion. He received
also instructions in his field duty; but, I must own, that when
his first ardour was passed, his progress fell short in the latter
particular of what he wished and expected. The duty of an officer,
the most imposing of all others to the inexperienced mind, because
accompanied with so much outward pomp and circumstance, is in
its essence a very dry and abstract task, depending chiefly upon
arithmetical combinations, requiring much attention, and a cool and
reasoning head, to bring them into action. Our hero was liable to fits
of absence, in which his blunders excited some mirth, and called down
some reproof. This circumstance impressed him with a painful sense of
inferiority in those qualities which appeared most to deserve and obtain
regard in his new profession. He asked himself in vain, why his eye
could not judge of distance or space so well as those of his companions;
why his head was not always successful in disentangling the various
partial movements necessary to execute a particular evolution; and
why his memory, so alert upon most occasions, did not correctly retain
technical phrases, and minute points of etiquette or field discipline.
Waverley was naturally modest, and therefore did not fall into the
egregious mistake of supposing such minuter rules of military duty
beneath his notice, or conceiting himself to be born a general, because
he made an indifferent subaltern. The truth was, that the vague and
unsatisfactory course of reading which he had pursued, working upon a
temper naturally retired and abstracted, had given him that wavering
and unsettled habit of mind, which is most averse to study and riveted
attention. Time, in the meanwhile, hung heavy on his hands. The gentry
of the neighbourhood were disaffected, and, showed little hospitality
to the military guests; and the people of the town, chiefly engaged in
mercantile pursuits, were not such as Waverley chose to associate
with. The arrival of summer, and a curiosity to know something more of
Scotland than he could see in a ride from his quarters, determined him
to request leave of absence for a few weeks. He resolved first to
visit his uncle's ancient friend and correspondent, with the purpose
of extending or shortening the time of his residence according to
circumstances. He travelled of course on horseback, and with a single
attendant, and passed his first night at a miserable inn, where the
landlady had neither shoes nor stockings, and the landlord, who called
himself a gentleman, was disposed to be rude to his guest, because he
had not bespoke the pleasure of his society to supper. [5] The
next day, traversing an open and unenclosed country, Edward gradually
approached the Highlands of Perthshire, which at first had appeared a
blue outline in the horizon, but now swelled into huge gigantic masses,
which frowned defiance over the more level country that lay beneath
them. Near the bottom of this stupendous barrier, but still in the
Lowland country, dwelt Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine; and, if
grey-haired eld can be in aught believed, there had dwelt his ancestors,
with all their heritage, since the days of the gracious King Duncan.



CHAPTER VIII

A SCOTTISH MANOR-HOUSE SIXTY YEARS SINCE

It was about noon when Captain Waverley entered the straggling village,
or rather hamlet, of Tully-Veolan, close to which was situated the
mansion of the proprietor. The houses seemed miserable in the extreme,
especially to an eye accustomed to the smiling neatness of English
cottages. They stood, without any respect for regularity, on each side
of & straggling kind of unpaved street, where children, almost in a
primitive state of nakedness, lay sprawling, as if to be crushed by
the hoofs of the first passing horse. Occasionally, indeed, when such a
consummation seemed inevitable, a watchful old grandam, with her close
cap, distaff, and spindle, rushed like a sibyl in frenzy out of one of
these miserable cells, dashed into the middle of the path, and snatching
up her own charge from among the sunburnt loiterers, saluted him with
a sound cuff, and transported him back to his dungeon, the little
white-headed varlet screaming all the while, from the very top of his
lungs, a shrilly treble to the growling remonstrances of the enraged
matron. Another part in this concert was sustained by the incessant
yelping of a score of idle useless curs, which followed, snarling,
barking, howling, and snapping at the horses' heels; a nuisance at
that time so common in Scotland, that a French tourist, who, like other
travellers, longed to find a good and rational reason for everything
he saw, has recorded, as one of the memorabilia of Caledonia, that the
state maintained in each village a relay of curs, called COLLIES, whose
duty it was to chase the CHEVAUX DE POSTE (too starved and exhausted
to move without such a stimulus) from one hamlet to another, till their
annoying convoy drove them to the end of their stage. The evil and
remedy (such as it is) still exist: but this is remote from our present
purpose, and is only thrown out for consideration of the collectors
under Mr. Dent's dog bill.

As Waverley moved on, here and there an old man, bent as much by toil as
years, his eyes bleared with age and smoke, tottered to the door of his
hut, to gaze on the dress of the stranger, and the form and motions of
the horses, and then assembled with his neighbours, in a little group
at the smithy, to discuss the probabilities of whence the stranger came,
and where he might be going. Three or four village girls, returning from
the well or brook with pitchers and pails upon their heads, formed
more pleasing objects; and, with their thin, short gowns and single
petticoats, bare arms, legs, and feet, uncovered heads, and braided
hair, somewhat resembled Italian forms of landscape. Nor could a lover
of the picturesque have challenged either the elegance of their costume,
or the symmetry of their shape; although, to say the truth, a mere
Englishman, in search of the COMFORTABLE, a word peculiar to his native
tongue, might have wished the clothes less scanty, the feet and legs
somewhat protected from the weather, the head and complexion shrouded
from the sun, or perhaps might even have thought the whole person and
dress considerably improved, by a plentiful application of spring water,
with a QUANTUM SUFFICIT of soap, The whole scene was depressing; for
it argued, at the first glance, at least a stagnation of industry, and
perhaps of intellect. Even curiosity, the busiest passion of the idle,
seemed of a listless cast in the village of Tully-Veolan: the curs
aforesaid alone showed any part of its activity; with the villagers it
was passive. They stood and gazed at the handsome young officer and his
attendant, but without any of those quick motions, and eager looks, that
indicate the earnestness with which those who live in monotonous ease at
home, look out for amusement abroad. Yet the physiognomy of the people,
when more closely examined, was far from exhibiting the indifference of
stupidity; their features were rough, but remarkably intelligent; grave,
but the very reverse of stupid; and from among the young women, an
artist might have chosen more than one model, whose features and form
resembled those of Minerva. The children, also, whose skins were burnt
black, and whose hair was bleached white, by the influence of the sun,
had a look and manner of life and interest. It seemed, upon the whole,
as if poverty, and indolence, its too frequent companion, were combining
to depress the natural genius and acquired information of a hardy,
intelligent, and reflecting peasantry.

Some such thoughts crossed Waverley's mind as he paced his horse slowly
through the rugged and flinty street of Tully-Veolan, interrupted
only in his meditations by the occasional caprioles which his charger
exhibited at the reiterated assaults of those canine Cossacks, the
COLLIES before mentioned. The village was more than half a mile long,
the cottages being irregularly divided from each other by gardens, or
yards, as the inhabitants called them, of different sizes, where (for
it is Sixty Years since) the now universal potato was unknown, but which
were stored with gigantic plants of KALE or colewort, encircled with
groves of nettles, and exhibited here and there a huge hemlock, or the
national thistle, overshadowing a quarter of the petty enclosure. The
broken ground on which the village was built had never been levelled; so
that these enclosures presented declivities of every degree, here rising
like terraces, there sinking like tan-pits. The dry-stone walls which
fenced, or seemed to fence (for they were sorely breached), these
hanging gardens of Tully-Veolan, were intersected by a narrow lane
leading to the common field, where the joint labour of the villagers
cultivated alternate ridges and patches of rye, oats, barley, and peas,
each of such minute extent, that at a little distance the unprofitable
variety of the surface resembled a tailor's book of patterns. In a
few favoured instances, there appeared behind the cottages a miserable
wigwam, compiled of earth, loose stones, and turf, where the wealthy
might perhaps shelter a starved cow or sorely galled horse. But almost
every hut was fenced in front by a huge black stack of turf on one side
of the door, while on the other the family dung-hill ascended in noble
emulation.

About a bow-shot from the end of the village appeared the enclosures,
proudly denominated the Parks of Tully-Veolan, being certain square
fields, surrounded and divided by stone walls five feet in height. In
the centre of the exterior barrier was the upper gate of the avenue,
opening under an archway, battlemented on the top, and adorned with two
large weather-beaten mutilated masses of upright stone, which, if the
tradition of the hamlet could be trusted, had once represented, at least
had been once designed to represent, two rampant Bears, the supporters
of the family of Bradwardine. This avenue was straight, and of moderate
length, running between a double row of very ancient horse-chestnuts,
planted alternately with sycamores, which rose to such huge height, and
flourished so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely over-arched the
broad road beneath. Beyond these venerable ranks, and running parallel
to them, were two high walls, of apparently the like antiquity,
overgrown with ivy, honeysuckle, and other climbing plants. The avenue
seemed very little trodden, and chiefly by foot-passengers; so that
being very broad, and enjoying a constant shade, it was clothed with
grass of a deep and rich verdure, excepting where a footpath, worn by
occasional passengers, tracked with a natural sweep the way from the
upper to the lower gate. This nether portal, like the former, opened in
front of a wall ornamented with some rude sculpture, with battlements on
the top, over which were seen, half-hidden by the trees of the avenue,
the high steep roofs and narrow gables of the mansion, with lines
indented into steps, and corners decorated with small turrets. One of
the folding leaves of the lower gate was open, and as the sun shone
full into the court behind, a long line of brilliancy was flung upon
the aperture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It was one of those effects
which a painter loves to represent, and mingled well with the struggling
light which found its way between the boughs of the shady arch that
vaulted the broad green alley.

The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost romantic; and
Waverley, who had given his horse to his servant on entering the first
gate, walked slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful and cooling
shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas of rest and seclusion
excited by this confined and quiet scene, that he forgot the misery and
dirt of the hamlet he had left behind him. The opening into the paved
courtyard corresponded with the rest of the scene. The house, which
seemed to consist of two or three high, narrow, and steep-roofed
buildings, projecting from each other at right angles, formed one side
of the enclosure. It had been built at a period when castles were no
longer necessary, and when the Scottish architects had not yet acquired
the art of designing a domestic residence. The windows were numberless,
but very small; the roof had some nondescript kind of projections,
called bartizans, and displayed at each frequent angle a small turret,
rather resembling a pepper-box than a Gothic watch-tower. Neither did
the front indicate absolute security from danger. There were loop-holes
for musketry, and iron stanchions on the lower windows, probably to
repel any roving band of gipsies, or resist a predatory visit from
the Caterans of the neighbouring Highlands. Stables and other offices
occupied another side of the square. The former were low vaults, with
narrow slits instead of windows, resembling, as Edward's groom observed,
'rather a prison for murderers and larceners, and such like as are
tried at 'sizes, than a place for any Christian cattle.' Above these
dungeon-looking stables were granaries, called girnels, and other
offices, to which there was access by outside stairs of heavy masonry.
Two battlemented walls, one of which faced the avenue, and the other
divided the court from the garden, completed the enclosure.

Nor was the court without its ornaments. In one corner was a tun-bellied
pigeon-house, of great size and rotundity, resembling in figure and
proportion the curious edifice called Arthur's Oven, which would have
turned the brains of all the antiquaries in England, had not the
worthy proprietor pulled it down for the sake of mending a neighbouring
dam-dyke. This dovecot, or COLUMBARIUM, as the owner called it, was no
small resource to a Scottish laird of that period, whose scanty rents
were eked out by the contributions levied upon the farms by these light
foragers, and the conscriptions exacted from the latter for the benefit
of the table.

Another corner of the court displayed a fountain, where a huge bear,
carved in stone, predominated over a large stone basin, into which he
disgorged the water. This work of art was the wonder of the country ten
miles round. It must not be forgotten, that all sorts of bears, small
and large, demi or in full proportion, were carved over the windows,
upon the ends of the gables, terminated the spouts, and supported the
turrets, with the ancient family motto 'BEWAR THE BAR,' cut under each
hyperborean form. The court was spacious, well paved, and perfectly
clean, there being probably another entrance behind the stables for
removing the litter. Everything around appeared solitary, and would have
been silent, but for the continued plashing of the fountain; and the
whole scene still maintained the monastic illusion which the fancy of
Waverley had conjured up.--And here we beg permission to close a chapter
of still life. [There is no particular mansion described under the
name of Tully-Veolan; but the peculiarities of the description occur
in various old Scottish seats. The House of Warrender upon Bruntsfield
Links, and that of Old Ravelston, belonging, the former to Sir George
Warrender, the latter to Sir Alexander Keith, have both contributed
several hints to the description in the text. The House of Dean, near
Edinburgh, has also some points of resemblance with Tully-Veolan.
The author has, however, been informed, that the House of Grandtully
resembles that of the Baron of Bradwardine still more than any of the
above.]



CHAPTER IX

MORE OF THE MANOR-HOUSE AND ITS ENVIRONS

After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around him for a
few minutes, Waverley applied himself to the massive knocker of the
hall-door, the architrave of which bore the date 1594. But no answer was
returned, though the peal resounded through a number of apartments, and
was echoed from the courtyard walls without the house, startling the
pigeons from the venerable rotunda which they occupied, and alarming
anew even the distant village curs, which had retired to sleep upon
their respective dung-hills. Tired of the din which he created, and the
unprofitable responses which it excited, Waverley began to think that he
had reached the castle of Orgoglio, as entered by the victorious Prince
Arthur,

     When 'gan he loudly through the house to call,
     But no man cared to answer to his cry;
     There reigned a solemn silence over all,
     Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seen, in bower or hall.

Filled almost with expectation of beholding some 'old, old man, with
beard as white as snow,' whom he might question concerning this deserted
mansion, our hero turned to a little oaken wicket-door, well clenched
with iron nails, which opened in the courtyard wall at its angle
with the house. It was only latched, notwithstanding its fortified
appearance, and, when opened, admitted him into the garden, which
presented a pleasant scene. [At Ravelston may be seen such a garden,
which the taste of the proprietor, the author's friend and kinsman, Sir
Alexander Keith, Knight Mareschal, has judiciously preserved. That, as
well as the house, is, however, of smaller dimensions than the Baron
of Bradwardine's mansion and garden are presumed to have been.] The
southern side of the house, clothed with fruit-trees, and having many
evergreens trained upon its walls, extended its irregular yet venerable
front along a terrace, partly paved, partly gravelled, partly bordered
with flowers and choice shrubs. This elevation descended by three
several flights of steps, placed in its centre and at the extremities,
into what might be called the garden proper, and was fenced along the
top by a stone parapet with a heavy balustrade, ornamented from space to
space with huge grotesque figures of animals seated upon their haunches,
among which the favourite bear was repeatedly introduced. Placed in the
middle of the terrace, between a sashed door opening from the house and
the central flight of steps, a huge animal of the same species supported
on his head and fore-paws a sundial of large circumference, inscribed
with more diagrams than Edward's mathematics enabled him to decipher.

The garden, which seemed to be kept with great accuracy, abounded in
fruit-trees, and exhibited a profusion of flowers and evergreens, cut
into grotesque forms. It was laid out in terraces, which descended rank
by rank from the western wall to a large brook, which had a tranquil
and smooth appearance, where it served as a boundary to the garden; but,
near the extremity, leapt in tumult over a strong dam, or weir-head, the
cause of its temporary tranquillity, and there forming a cascade, was
overlooked by an octangular summer-house, with a gilded bear on the top
by way of vane. After this feat, the brook, assuming its natural rapid
and fierce character, escaped from the eye down a deep and wooded dell,
from the copse of which arose a massive, but ruinous tower, the former
habitation of the Barons of Bradwardine, The margin of the brook,
opposite to the garden, displayed a narrow meadow, or haugh, as it was
called, which formed a small washing-green; the bank, which retired
behind it, was covered by ancient trees.

The scene, though pleasing, was not quite equal to the gardens of
Alcina; yet wanted not the 'DUE DONZELLETTE GARRULE' of that enchanted
paradise, for upon the green aforesaid two bare-legged damsels, each
standing in a spacious tub, performed with their feet the office of
a patent washing-machine. These did not, however, like the maidens of
Armida, remain to greet with their harmony the approaching guest, but,
alarmed at the appearance of a handsome stranger on the opposite side,
dropped their garments (I should say garment, to be quite-correct) over
their limbs, which their occupation exposed somewhat too freely, and,
with a shrill exclamation of 'Eh, sirs!' uttered with an accent between
modesty and coquetry, sprang off like deer in different directions.

Waverley began to despair of gaining entrance into this solitary and
seemingly enchanted mansion, when a man advanced up one of the garden
alleys, where he still retained his station. Trusting this might be a
gardener, or some domestic belonging to the house, Edward descended
the steps in order to meet him; but as the figure approached, and long
before he could descry its features, he was struck with the oddity of
its appearance and gestures.--Sometimes this mister wight held his hands
clasped over his head, like an Indian Jogue in the attitude of penance;
sometimes he swung them perpendicularly, like a pendulum, on each side;
and anon he slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his breast,
like the substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his usual flogging
exercise, when his cattle are idle upon the stand in a clear frosty day.
His gait was as singular as his gestures, for at times he hopped with
great perseverance on the right foot, then exchanged that supporter to
advance in the same manner on the left, and then putting his feet close
together, he hopped upon both at once. His attire, also, was antiquated
and extravagant. It consisted in a sort of grey jerkin, with scarlet
cuffs and slashed sleeves, showing a scarlet lining; the other parts
of the dress corresponded in colour, not forgetting a pair of scarlet
stockings, and a scarlet bonnet, proudly surmounted with a turkey's
feather. Edward, whom he did not seem to observe, now perceived
confirmation in his features of what the mien and gestures had already
announced. It was apparently neither idiocy nor insanity which gave
that wild, unsettled, irregular expression to a face which naturally was
rather handsome, but something that resembled a compound of both, where
the simplicity of the fool was mixed with the extravagance of a crazed
imagination. He sang with great earnestness, and not without some taste,
a fragment of an old Scottish ditty:--

     False love, and hast thou played me thus
     In summer among the flowers?
     I will repay thee back again
     In winter among the showers.
     Unless again, again, my love,
     Unless you turn again;
     As you with other maidens rove,
     I'll smile on other men.

[This is a genuine ancient fragment, with some alteration in the last
two lines.]

Here lifting up his eyes, which had hither&o been fixed in observing how
his feet kept time to the tune, he beheld Waverley, and instantly
doffed his cap, with many grotesque signals of surprise, respect, and
salutation. Edward, though with little hope of receiving an answer to
any constant question, requested to know whether Mr. Bradwardine were at
home, or where he could find any of the domestics. The questioned party
replied,--and, like the witch of Thalaba, 'still his speech was song,'--

     The Knight's to the mountain
     His bugle to wind;
     The Lady's to greenwood
     Her garland to bind.
     The bower of Burd Ellen
     Has moss on the floor,
     That the step of Lord William
     Be silent and sure.

This conveyed no information, and Edward, repeating his queries,
received a rapid answer, in which, from the haste and peculiarity of
the dialect, the word 'butler' was alone intelligible. Waverley then
requested to see the butler; upon which the fellow, with a knowing look
and nod of intelligence, made a signal to Edward to follow, and began to
dance and caper down the alley up which he had made his approaches.--A
strange guide this, thought Edward, and not much unlike one of
Shakespeare's roynish clowns. I am not over prudent to trust to his
pilotage; but wiser men have been led by fools.--By this time he reached
the bottom of the alley, where, turning short on a little parterre of
flowers, shrouded from the east and north by a close yew hedge, he found
an old man at work without his coat, whose appearance hovered between
that of an upper servant and gardener; his red nose and ruffed shirt
belonging to the former profession; his hale and sunburnt visage, with
his green apron, appearing to indicate

     Old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden.

The major domo--for such he was, and indisputably the second officer of
state in the barony (nay, as chief minister of the interior, superior
even to Bailie Macwheeble, in his own department of the kitchen and
cellar)--the major domo laid down his spade, slipped on his coat in
haste, and with a wrathful look at Edward's guide, probably excited by
his having introduced a stranger while he was engaged in this laborious,
and, as he might suppose it, degrading office, requested to know the
gentleman's commands. Being informed that he wished to pay his respects
to his master, that his name was Waverley, and so forth, the old man's
countenance assumed a great deal of respectful importance. 'He could
take it upon his conscience to say, his honour would have exceeding
pleasure in seeing him. Would not Mr. Waverley choose some refreshment
after his journey? His honour was with the folk who were getting doon
the dark hag; the twa gardener lads (an emphasis on the word TWA) had
been ordered to attend him; and he had been just amusing himself in the
meantime with dressing Miss Rose's flower-bed, that he might be near to
receive his honour's orders, if need were: he was very fond of a garden,
but had little time for such divertisements.'

'He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the week at no rate
whatever,' said Edward's fantastic conductor.

A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, and he commanded
him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, in a tone which admitted no
discussion, to look for his honour at the dark hag, and tell him there
was a gentleman from the south had arrived at the Ha'.

'Can this poor fellow deliver a letter?' asked Edward.

'With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects. I would hardly
trust him with a long message by word of mouth--though he is more knave
than fool.'

Waverley delivered his credentials to Mr. Gellatley, who seemed to
confirm the butler's last observation, by twisting his features at him,
when he was looking another way, into the resemblance of the grotesque
face on the bowl of a German tobacco-pipe; after which, with an odd
conge to Waverley, he danced off to discharge his errand.

'He is an innocent, sir,' said the butler; 'there is one such in almost
every town in the country, but ours is brought far ben. He used to work
a day's turn weel eneugh; but he help'd Miss Rose when she was flemit
with the Laird of Killancureit's new English bull, and since that time
we ca' him Davie Do-little indeed we might ca' him Davie Do-naething,
for since he got that gay clothing, to please his honour and my young
mistress (great folks will have their fancies), he has done naething but
dance up and down about the TOUN, without doing a single turn, unless
trimming the laird's fishing-wand or busking his flies, or maybe
catching a dish of trouts at an orra-time. But here comes Miss Rose,
who, I take burden upon me for her, will be especially glad to see one
of the house of Waverley at her father's mansion at Tully-Veolan.'

But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unworthy historian, than to
be introduced at the end of a chapter.

In the meanwhile it may be noticed, that Waverley learned two things
from this colloquy; that in Scotland a single house was called a TOWN,
and a natural fool an INNOCENT. [6]



CHAPTER X

ROSE BRADWARDINE AND HER FATHER

Miss Bradwardine was but seventeen; yet, at the last races of the county
town of--, upon her health being proposed among a round of beauties,
the Laird of Bumperquaigh, permanent feast-master and croupier of the
Bautherwhillery Club, not only said MORE to the pledge in a pint bumper
of Bourdeaux, but, ere pouring forth the libation, denominated the
divinity to whom it was dedicated, 'the Rose of Tully-Veolan;' upon
which festive occasion, three cheers were given by all the sitting
members of that respectable society, whose throats the wine had left
capable of such exertion. Nay, I am well assured, that the sleeping
partners of the company snorted applause, and that although strong
bumpers and weak brains had consigned two or three to the floor, yet
even these, fallen as they were from their high estate, and weltering--I
will carry the parody no further--uttered divers inarticulate sounds,
intimating their assent to the motion.

Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but by acknowledged merit;
and Rose Bradwardine not only deserved it, but also the approbation
of much more rational persons than the Bautherwhillery Club could have
mustered, even before discussion of the first MAGNUM. She was indeed a
very pretty girl of the Scotch cast of beauty, that is, with a profusion
of hair of paley gold, and a skin like the snow of her own mountains in
whiteness. Yet she had not a pallid or pensive cast of countenance;
her features, as well as her temper, had a lively expression; her
complexion, though not florid, was so pure as to seem transparent, and
the slightest emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face and neck.
Her form, though under the common size, was remarkably elegant, and her
motions light, easy, and unembarrassed. She came from another part
of the garden to receive Captain Waverley, with a manner that hovered
between bashfulness and courtesy.

The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that the dark hag,
which had somewhat puzzled him in the butler's account of his master's
avocations, had nothing to do either with a black cat or a broomstick,
but was simply a portion of oak copse which was to be felled that day.
She offered, with diffident civility, to show the stranger the way to
the spot, which, it seems, was not far distant; but they were prevented
by the appearance of the Baron of Bradwardine in person, who, summoned
by David Gellatley, now appeared, 'on hospitable thoughts intent,'
clearing the ground at a prodigious rate with swift and long strides,
which reminded Waverley of the seven-league boots of the nursery fable.
He was a tall, thin, athletic figure; old indeed, and grey-haired, but
with every muscle rendered as tough as whip-cord by constant exercise.
He was dressed carelessly, and more like a Frenchman than an Englishman
of the period, while, from his hard features and perpendicular rigidity
of stature, he bore some resemblance to a Swiss officer of the guards,
who had resided some time at Paris, and caught the costume, but not the
ease or manner of its inhabitants. The truth was, that his language and
habits were as heterogeneous as his external appearance.

Owing to his natural disposition to study, or perhaps to a very general
Scottish fashion of giving young men of rank a legal education, he
had been bred with a view to the Bar. But the politics of his family
precluding the hope of his rising in that profession, Mr. Bradwardine
travelled with high reputation for several years, and made some
campaigns in foreign service. After his DEMELE with the law of high
treason in 1715, he had lived in retirement, conversing almost entirely
with those of his own principles in the vicinage. The pedantry of the
lawyer, superinduced upon the military pride of the soldier, might
remind a modern of the days of the zealous volunteer service, when the
bar-gown of our pleaders was often hung over a blazing uniform. To this
must be added the prejudices of ancient birth and Jacobite politics,
greatly strengthened by habits of solitary and secluded authority,
which, though exercised only within the bounds of his half-cultivated
estate, was there indisputable and undisputed. For, as he used to
observe, 'the lands of Bradwardine, Tully-Veolan, and others, had
been erected into a free barony by a charter from David the First, CUM
LIBERALI POTEST. HABENDI CURIAS ET JUSTICIAS, CUM FOSSA ET FURCA (LIE
pit and gallows) ET SAKA ET SOKA, ET THOL ET THEAM, ET INFANG-THIEF ET
OUTFANG-THIEF, SIVE HAND-HABEND. SIVE BAK-BARAND.' The peculiar meaning
of all these cabalistical words few or none could explain; but they
implied, upon the whole, that the Baron of Bradwardine might, in case
of delinquency, imprison, try, and execute his vassals at his pleasure.
Like James the First, however, the present possessor of this authority
was more pleased in talking about prerogative than in exercising it;
and, excepting that he imprisoned two poachers in the dungeon of the old
tower of Tully-Veolan, where they were sorely frightened by ghosts,
and almost eaten by rats, and that he set an old woman in the JOUGS (or
Scottish pillory) for saying 'there were mair fules in the laird's
ha' house than Davie Gellatley,' I do not learn that he was accused
of abusing his high powers. Still, however, the conscious pride
of possessing them gave additional importance to his language and
deportment.

At his first address to Waverley, it would seem that the hearty pleasure
he felt to behold the nephew of his friend had somewhat discomposed the
stiff and upright dignity of the Baron of Bradwardine's demeanour, for
the tears stood in the old gentleman's eyes, when, having first shaken
Edward heartily by the hand in the English fashion, he embraced him A
LA MODE FRANCAISE, and kissed him on both sides of his face; while
the hardness of his grip, and the quantity of Scotch snuff which his
ACCOLADE communicated, called corresponding drops of moisture to the
eyes of his guest.

'Upon the honour of a gentleman,' he said, 'but it makes me young again
to see you here, Mr. Waverley!' A worthy scion of the old stock of
Waverley-Honour--SPES ALTERA, as Maro hath it--and you have the look of
the old line, Captain Waverley, not so portly yet as my old friend Sir
Everard--MAIS CELA VIENDRA AVEC LE TEMPS, as my Dutch acquaintance,
Baron Kikkitbroeck, said of the SAGESSE of MADAME SON EPOUSE.--And so ye
have mounted the cockade? Right, right; though I could have wished the
colour different, and so I would ha' deemed might Sir Everard. But no
more of that; I am old, and times are changed.--And how does the worthy
knight baronet, and the fair Mrs. Rachel?--Ah, ye laugh, young man!
In troth she was the fair Mrs. Rachel in the year of grace seventeen
hundred and sixteen; but time passes--ET SINGULA PRAEDANTUR ANNI--that
is most certain. But once again, ye are most heartily welcome to my poor
house of Tully-Veolan!--Hie to the house, Rose, and see that Alexander
Saunderson leaks out the old Chateau Margaux, which I sent from
Bourdeaux to Dundee in the year 1713.'

Rose tripped off demurely enough till she turned the first corner, and
then ran with the speed of a fairy, that she might gain leisure, after
discharging her father's commission, to put her own dress in order, and
produce all her little finery, an occupation for which the approaching
dinner hour left but limited time.

'We cannot rival the luxuries of your English table, Captain Waverley,
or give you the EPULAE LAUTIORES of Wavery-Honour--I say EPULAE rather
than PRANDIUM, because the latter phrase is popular; EPULAE AD SENATUM,
PRANDIUM VERO AD POPULUM ATTINET, says Suetonius Tranquillus. But I
trust ye will applaud my Bourdeaux; C'EST D'UNE OREILLE, as Captain
Vinsauf used to say--VINUM PRIMAE NOTAE, the Principal of St. Andrews
denominated it. And, once more, Captain Waverley, right glad am I that
ye are here to drink the best my cellar can make forthcoming.'

This speech, with the necessary interjectional answers, continued from
the lower alley where they met, up to the door of the house, where
four or five servants in old-fashioned liveries, headed by Alexander
Saunderson, the butler, who now bore no token of the sable stains of the
garden, received them in grand costume,

     In an old hall hung round with pikes and with bows,
     With old bucklers and corselets that had borne many shrewd blows.

With much ceremony, and still more real kindness, the Baron, without
stopping in any intermediate apartment, conducted his guest through
several into the great dining parlour, wainscoted with black oak, and
hung round with the pictures of his ancestry, where a table was set
forth in form for six persons, and an old-fashioned beaufet displayed
all the ancient and massive plate of the Bradwardine family. A bell was
now heard at the head of the avenue; for an old man, who acted as porter
upon gala days, had caught the alarm given by Waverley's arrival, and,
repairing to his post, announced the arrival of other guests.

These, as the Baron assured his young friend, were very estimable
persons. 'There was the young Laird of Balmawhapple, a Falconer by
surname, of the house of Glenfarquhar, given right much to field
sports--GAUDAT EQUIS ET CANIBUS--but a very discreet young gentleman.
Then there was the Laird of Killancureit, who had devoted his leisure
UNTILL tillage and agriculture, and boasted himself to be possessed of a
bull of matchless merit, brought from the county of Devon (the Damnonia,
of the Romans, if we can trust Robert of Cirencester). He is, as ye may
well suppose from such a tendency, but of yeoman extraction--SERVABIT
ODOREM TESTA DIU--and I believe, between ourselves, his grandsire was
from the wrong side of the Border--one Bullsegg, who came hither as a
steward, or bailiff, or ground-officer, or something in that department,
to the last Girnigo of Killancureit, who died of an atrophy. After his
master's death, sir,--ye would hardly believe such a scandal,--but this
Bullsegg, being portly and comely of aspect, intermarried with the lady
dowager, who was young and amorous, and possessed himself of the estate,
which devolved on this unhappy woman by a settlement of her umwhile
husband, in direct contravention of an unrecorded taillie, and to the
prejudice of the disponer's own flesh and blood, in the person of his
natural heir and seventh cousin, Girnigo of Tipperhewit, whose family
was so reduced by the ensuing lawsuit, that his representative is now
serving as a private gentleman-sentinel in the Highland Black Watch. But
this gentleman, Mr. Bullsegg of Killancureit that now is, has good blood
in his veins by the mother and grandmother, who were both of the family
of Pickletillim, and he is well liked and looked upon, and knows his
own place. And God forbid, Captain Waverley, that we of irreproachable
lineage should exult over him, when it may be, that in the eighth,
ninth, or tenth generation, his progeny may rank, in a manner, with the
old gentry of the country. Rank and ancestry, sir, should be the last
words in the mouths of us of unblemished race--VIX EA NOSTRA VOCO,
as Naso saith.--There is, besides, a clergyman of the true (though
suffering) Episcopal church of Scotland. He was a confessor in her cause
after the year 1715, when a Whiggish mob destroyed his meeting-house,
tore his surplice, and plundered his dwelling-house of four silver
spoons, intromitting also with his mart and his meal-ark, and with two
barrels, one of single, and one of double ale, besides three bottles of
brandy. [7] My Baron-Bailie and doer, Mr. Duncan Macwheeble,
is the fourth on our list. There is a question, owing to the incertitude
of ancient orthography, whether he belongs to the clan of Wheedle or of
Quibble, but both have produced persons eminent in the law.'--

     As such he described them by person and name,
     They entered, and dinner was served as they came.



CHAPTER XI

THE BANQUET

The entertainment was ample, and handsome, according to the Scotch ideas
of the period, and the guests did great honour to it. The Baron ate like
a famished soldier, the Laird of Balmawhapple like a sportsman, Bullsegg
of Killancureit like a farmer, Waverley himself like a traveller, and
Bailie Macwheeble like all four together; though, either out of more
respect, or in order to preserve that proper declination of person which
showed a sense that he was in the presence of his patron, he sat upon
the edge of his chair, placed at three feet distance from the table, and
achieved a communication with his plate by projecting his person towards
it in a line, which obliqued from the bottom of his spine, so that the
person who sat opposite to him could only see the foretop of his riding
periwig.

This stooping position might have been inconvenient to another person;
but long habit made it, whether seated or walking, perfectly easy to
the worthy Bailie. In the latter posture, it occasioned, no doubt, an
unseemly projection of the person towards those who happened to walk
behind; but those being at all times his inferiors (for Mr. Macwheeble
was very scrupulous in giving place to all others), he cared very little
what inference of contempt or slight regard they might derive from the
circumstance. Hence, when he waddled across the court to and from his
old grey pony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking upon its hind
legs.

The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive and interesting old man, with much
the air of a sufferer for conscience' sake. He was one of those,

     Who, undeprived, their benefice forsook.

For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the Bailie used
sometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, upbraiding him with the nicety of
his scruples. Indeed it must be owned, that he himself, though at heart
a keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept pretty fair with all
the different turns of state in his time; so that Davie Gellatley once
described him as a particularly good man, who had a very quiet and
peaceful conscience, THAT NEVER DID HIM ANY HARM.

When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced the health of the
King, politely leaving to the consciences of his guests to drink to
the sovereign DE FACTO or DE JURE, as their politics inclined.
The conversation now became general; and, shortly afterwards, Miss
Bradwardine, who had done the honours with natural grace and simplicity,
retired, and was soon followed by the clergyman. Among the rest of the
party, the wine, which fully justified the encomiums of the landlord,
flowed freely round, although Waverley, with some difficulty, obtained
the privilege of sometimes neglecting the glass. At length, as the
evening grew more late, the Baron made a private signal to Mr. Saunders
Saunderson, or, as he facetiously denominated him, ALEXANDER AB
ALEXANDRO, who left the room with a nod, and soon after returned, his
grave countenance mantling with a solemn and mysterious smile, and
placed before his master a small oaken casket, mounted with brass
ornaments of curious form. The Baron, drawing out a private key,
unlocked the casket, raised the lid, and produced a golden goblet of
a singular and antique appearance, moulded into the shape of a rampant
bear, which the owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, pride,
and delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverley of Ben Jonson's Tom
Otter, with his Bull, Horse, and Dog, as that wag wittily denominated
his chief carousing cups. But Mr. Bradwardine, fuming towards him with
complacency, requested him to observe this curious relic of the olden
time.

'It represents,' he said, 'the chosen crest of our family, a bear, as ye
observe, and rampant; because a good herald will depict every animal in
its noblest posture; as a horse SALIENT, a greyhound CURRANT, and, as
may be inferred, a ravenous animal IN ACTU FEROCIORI, or in a voracious,
lacerating, and devouring posture. Now, sir, we hold this most
honourable achievement by the wappen-brief, or concession of arms,
of Frederick Redbeard, Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, Godmund
Bradwardine, it being the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom he slew in
the lists in the Holy Land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of the
Emperor's spouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely which, and
thus, as Virgilius hath it--

     Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis
     Aptemus.

Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought by the command of St.
Duthac, Abbot of Aberbrothock, for behoof of another baron of the
house of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended the patrimony of that
monastery against certain encroaching nobles. It is properly termed the
Blessed Bear of Bradwardine (though old Dr. Doubleit used jocosely to
call it Ursa Major), and was supposed, in old and Catholic times, to be
invested with certain properties of a mystical and supernatural quality.
And though I give not in to such ANILIA, it is certain it has always
been esteemed a solemn standard cup and heirloom of our house; nor is it
ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I hold to be the
arrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof; and I devote
this draught to the health and prosperity of the ancient and
highly-to-be-honoured house of Waverley.'

During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a cobwebbed bottle of
claret into the goblet, which held nearly an English pint; and, at the
conclusion, delivering the bottle to the butler, to be held carefully in
the same angle with the horizon, he devoutly quaffed off the contents of
the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine.

Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal making his rounds,
and thought with great anxiety upon the appropriate motto, 'Beware the
Bear;' but at the same time plainly foresaw, that as none of the guests
scrupled to do him this extraordinary honour, a refusal on-his part
to pledge their courtesy would be extremely ill received. Resolving,
therefore, to submit to this last piece of tyranny, and then to quit the
table, if possible, and confiding in the strength of his constitution,
he did justice to the company in the contents of the Blessed Bear, and
felt less inconvenience from the draught than he could possibly have
expected. The others, whose time had been more actively employed, began
to show symptoms of innovation,--'the good wine did its good office.'
[Southey's MADOC.] The frost of etiquette, and pride of birth, began to
give way before the genial blessings of this benign constellation, and
the formal appellatives with which the three dignitaries had hitherto
addressed each other, were now familiarly abbreviated into Tully,
Bally, and Killie. When a few rounds had passed, the two latter, after
whispering together, craved permission (a joyful hearing for Edward) to
ask the grace-cup. This, after some delay, was at length produced, and
Waverley concluded that the orgies of Bacchus were terminated for the
evening. He was never more mistaken in his life.

As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or CHANGE-HOUSE,
as it was called, of the village, the Baron could not, in politeness,
avoid walking with them up the avenue, and Waverley, from the same
motive, and to enjoy, after this feverish revel, the cool summer
evening, attended the party. But when they arrived at Luckie Macleary's,
the Lairds of Balmawhapple and Killancureit declared their determination
to acknowledge their sense of the hospitality of Tully-Veolan, by
partaking with their entertainer and his guest Captain Waverley, what
they technically called DEOCH AN DORUIS, a stirrup-cup, to the honour of
the Baron's roof-tree. [8]

It must be noticed, that the Bailie, knowing by experience that the
day's joviality, which had been hitherto sustained at the expense of his
patron, might terminate partly at his own, had mounted his spavined grey
pony, and, between gaiety of heart, and alarm for being hooked into a
reckoning, spurred him into a hobbling canter (a trot was out of the
question), and had already cleared the village. The others entered the
change-house, leading Edward in unresisting submission; for his landlord
whispered him, that to demur to such an overture would be construed into
a high misdemeanour against the LEGES CONVIVIALES, or regulations of
genial compotation. Widow Macleary seemed to have expected this visit,
as well she might, for it was the usual consummation of merry bouts, not
only at Tully-Veolan, but at most other gentlemen's houses in Scotland,
Sixty Years since. The guests thereby at once acquitted themselves of
their burden of gratitude for their entertainer's kindness, encouraged
the trade of his change-house, did honour to the place which afforded
harbour to their horses, and indemnified themselves for the previous
restraints imposed by private hospitality, by spending, what Falstaff
calls the sweet of the night, in the genial license of a tavern.

Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests, Luckie
Macleary had swept her house for the first time this fortnight, tempered
her turf-fire to such a heat as the season required in her damp hovel
even at Midsummer, set forth her deal table newly washed, propped its
lame foot with a fragment of turf, arranged four or five stools of huge
and clumsy form, upon the sites which best suited the inequalities of
her clay floor; and having, moreover, put on her clean toy, rokelay, and
scarlet plaid, gravely awaited the arrival of the company, in full hope
of custom and profit. When they were seated under the sooty rafters of
Luckie Macleary's only apartment, thickly tapestried with cobwebs, their
hostess, who had already taken her cue from the Laird of Balmawhapple,
appeared with a huge pewter measuring-pot, containing at least three
English quarts, familiarly denominated a TAPPIT HEN, and which, in the
language of the hostess, reamed (i.e. mantled) with excellent claret,
just drawn from the cask.

It was soon plain that what crumbs of reason the Bear had not devoured,
were to be picked up by the Hen; but the confusion which appeared to
prevail favoured Edward's resolution to evade the gaily circling glass.
The others began to talk thick and at once, each performing his own part
in the conversation, without the least respect to hist neighbour. The
Baron of Bradwardine sang French CHANSONS-A-BOIRE, and spouted pieces
of Latin; Killancureit talked, in a steady unalterable dull key,
of top-dressing and bottom-dressing, [This has been censured as an
anachronism; and it must be confessed that agriculture of this kind was
unknown to the Scotch Sixty Years since.] and year-olds, and gimmers,
and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, and kyloes, and a proposed
turnpike-act; while Balmawhapple, in notes exalted above both, extolled
his horse, his hawks, and a greyhound called Whistler. In the middle of
this din, the Baron repeatedly implored silence; and when at length the
instinct of polite discipline so far prevailed, that for a moment he
obtained it, he hastened to beseech their attention 'unto a military
ariette, which was a particular favourite of the Marechal Duc de
Berwick;' then, imitating, as well as he could, the manner and tone of a
French mousquetaire, he immediately commenced,--

     Mon coeur volage, dit-elle,
     N'est pas pour vous, garcon;
     Est pour un homme de guerre,
     Qui a barbe au menton.
     Lon, Lon, Laridon.

     Qui ports chapeau a plume,
     Soulier a rouge talon,
     Qui joue de la flute,
     Aussi du violon.
     Lon, Lon, Laridon.

Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called a
d--d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar;
and, without wasting more time, struck up,--

     It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed,
     And o'er the bent of Killiebraid,
     And mony a weary cast I made,
     To cuittle the muirfowl's tail.

[SUUM CUIQUE. This snatch of a ballad was composed by Andrew MacDonald,
the ingenious and unfortunate author of VIMONDA.]

The Baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder and more obstreperous
strains of Balmawhapple, now dropped the competition, but continued to
hum, Lon, Lon, Laridon, and to regard the successful candidate for the
attention of the company, with an eye of disdain, while Balmawhapple
proceeded,--

     If up a bonny black-cock should spring,
     To whistle him down wi' a slug in his wing,
     And strap him on to my lunzie string,
     Right seldom would I fail.

After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sang the
first over again; and, in prosecution of his triumph, declared there was
'more sense in that than in all the DERRY-DONGS of France, and Fifeshire
to the boot of it.' The Baron only answered with a long pinch of snuff,
and a glance of infinite contempt. But those noble allies, the Bear and
the Hen, had emancipated the young laird from the habitual reverence
in which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pronounced the claret
SHILPIT, and demanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought;
and now the Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arising from
this Dutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note in the
strange compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her, the Laird
of Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and winks with which the Baron
of Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hitherto checked his entering
upon political discussion, demanded a bumper, with the lungs of a
Stentor, 'to the little gentleman in black velvet who did such service
in 1702, and may the white horse break his neck over a mound of his
making!'

Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember that King
William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to be owing to his
horse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined to take umbrage at a
toast, which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple's eye, to have a
peculiar and uncivil reference to the Government which he served.
But, ere he could interfere, the Baron of Bradwardine had taken up the
quarrel. 'Sir,' he said, 'whatever my sentiments, TANQUAM PRIVATUS, may
be in such matters, I shall not tamely endure your saying anything that
may impinge upon the honourable feelings of a gentleman under my roof.
Sir, if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not respect
the military oath, the SACRAMENTUM MILITARE, by which every officer is
bound to the standards under which he is enrolled? Look at Titus Livius,
what he says of those Roman soldiers who were so unhappy as EXUERE
SACRAMENTUM,--to renounce their legionary oath; but you are ignorant,
sir, alike of ancient history and modern courtesy.'

'Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me,' roared Balmawhapple. 'I ken
weel that you mean the Solemn League and Covenant; but if a' the Whigs
in hell had taken the--'

Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, the former calling out,
'Be silent, sir! ye not only show your ignorance, but disgrace your
native country before a stranger and an Englishman;' and Waverley, at
the same moment, entreating Mr. Bradwardine to permit him to reply to
an affront which seemed levelled at him personally. But the Baron was
exalted by wine, wrath, and scorn, above all sublunary considerations.

'I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley; you are elsewhere,
peradventure, SUI JURIS,--foris-familiated, that is, and entitled, it
may be, to think and resent for yourself; but in my domain, in this poor
Barony of Bradwardine, and under this roof, which is QUASI mine, being
held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I am IN LOCO PARENTIS
to you, and bound to see you scathless.--And for you, Mr. Falconer of
Balmawhapple, I warn ye, let me see no more aberrations from the paths
of good manners.'

'And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of Bradwardine and
Tully-Veolan,' retorted the sportsman, in huge disdain, 'that I'll make
a moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether it be a crop-eared
English Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug, or ane wha deserts his ain
friends to claw favour wi' the rats of Hanover.'

In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate passes
exchanged. Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active; but the Baron,
infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like Sir Toby Belch, have
tickled his opponent other gates than he did, had he not been under the
influence of Ursa Major.

Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but the
prostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which he stumbled,
intercepted his passage. How Killancureit happened to be in this
recumbent posture at so interesting a moment, was never accurately
known. Some thought he was about to ensconce himself under the table; he
himself alleged that he stumbled in the act of lifting a joint-stool, to
prevent mischief, by knocking down Balmawhapple. Be that as it may,
if readier aid than either his or Waverley's had not interposed, there
would certainly have been bloodshed. But the well-known clash of swords,
which was no stranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie Macleary as she
sat quietly beyond the hallan, or earthen partition of the cottage, with
eyes employed on Boston's CROOK OF THE LOT, while her ideas were engaged
in summing up the reckoning. She boldly rushed in, with the shrill
expostulation, 'Wad their honours slay ane another there, and bring
discredit on an honest widow-woman's house, when there was a' the
lee-land in the country to fight upon?' a remonstrance which she
seconded by flinging her plaid with great dexterity over the weapons of
the combatants. The servants by this time rushed in, and being, by great
chance, tolerably sober, separated the incensed opponents, with the
assistance of Edward and Killancureit. The latter led off Balmawhapple,
cursing, swearing, and vowing revenge against every Whig, Presbyterian,
and fanatic in England and Scotland, from John-o'-Groat's to the Land's
End, and with difficulty got him to horse. Our hero, with the assistance
of Saunders Saunderson, escorted the Baron of Bradwardine to his own
dwelling, but could not prevail upon him to retire to bed until he had
made a long and learned apology for the events of the evening, of which,
however, there was not a word intelligible, except something about the
Centaurs and the Lapithae.



CHAPTER XII

REPENTANCE AND A RECONCILIATION

Waverley was unaccustomed to the use of wine, excepting with great
temperance. He slept, therefore, soundly till late in the succeeding
morning, and then awakened to a painful recollection of the scene of the
preceding evening. He had received a personal affront,--he, a gentleman,
a soldier, and a Waverley. True, the person who had offered it was not,
at the time it was given, possessed of the moderate share of sense which
nature had allotted him; true also, in resenting this insult, he would
break the laws of Heaven, as well as of his country; true, in doing so,
he might take the life of a young man who perhaps respectably discharged
the social duties, and render his family miserable; or he might lose his
own;--no pleasant alternative even to the bravest, when it is debated
coolly and in private.

All this pressed on his mind; yet the original statement recurred with
the same irresistible force. He had received a personal insult; he
was of the house of Waverley; and he bore a commission. There was
no alternative; and he descended to the breakfast parlour with the
intention of taking leave of the family, and writing to one of his
brother officers to meet him at the inn mid-way between Tully-Veolan and
the town where they were quartered, in order that he might convey such
a message to the Laird of Balmawhapple as the circumstances seemed to
demand. He found Miss Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee, the
table loaded with warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and barley-meal,
in the shape of leaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties, together
with eggs, reindeer ham, mutton and beef, ditto, smoked salmon,
marmalade, and all other delicacies which induced even Johnson himself
to extol the luxury of a Scotch breakfast above that of all other
countries. A mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked by a silver jug, which
held an equal mixture of cream and butter-milk, was placed for the
Baron's share of this repast; but Rose observed he had walked out
early in the morning, after giving orders that his guest should not be
disturbed.

Waverley sat down almost in silence, and with an air of absence and
abstraction, which could not give Miss Bradwardine a favourable opinion
of his talents for conversation. He answered at random one or two
observations which she ventured to make upon ordinary topics; so that
feeling herself almost repulsed in her efforts at entertaining him, and
secretly wondering that a scarlet coat should cover no better breeding,
she left him to his mental amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit's favourite
constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mischief which had
already happened, and was likely to ensue. At once he started, and his
colour heightened, as, looking toward the window, he beheld the Baron
and young Balmawhapple pass arm in arm, apparently in deep conversation;
and he hastily asked, 'Did Mr. Falconer sleep here last night?' Rose,
not much pleased with the abruptness of the first question which the
young stranger had addressed to her, answered drily in the negative, and
the conversation again sank into silence.

At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared, with a message from his master,
requesting to speak with Captain Waverley in another apartment. With
a heart which beat; a little quicker, not indeed from fear, but from
uncertainty and anxiety, Edward obeyed the summons. He found the two
gentlemen standing together, an air of complacent dignity on the brow of
the Baron, while something like sullenness, or shame, or both, blanked
the bold visage of Balmawhapple. The former slipped his arm through that
of the latter, and thus seeming to walk with him, while in reality he
led him, advanced to meet Waverley, and, stopping in the midst of
the apartment, made in great state the following oration: 'Captain
Waverley,--my young and esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple,
has craved of my age and experience, as of one not wholly unskilled in
the dependencies and punctilios of the duello or monomachia, to be his
interlocutor in expressing to you the regret with which he calls to
remembrance certain passages of our symposion last night, which could
not but be highly displeasing to you, as serving for the time under this
present existing government. He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion
the memory of such solecisms against the laws of politeness, as being
what his better reason disavows, and to receive the hand which he offers
you in amity; and I must needs assure you, that nothing less than a
sense of being DANS SON TORT, as a gallant French chevalier, Mons, Le
Bretailleur, once said to me on such an occasion, and an opinion also
of your peculiar merit, could have extorted such concessions; for he and
all his family are, and have been time out of mind, MAVORTIA PECTORA, as
Buchanan saith, a bold and warlike sept, or people.'

Edward immediately, and with natural politeness, accepted the hand which
Balmawhapple, or rather the Baron in his character of mediator, extended
towards him. 'It was impossible,' he said, 'for him to remember what
a gentleman expressed his wish he had not uttered; and he willingly
imputed what had passed to the exuberant festivity of the day.'

'That is very handsomely said,' answered the Baron; 'for undoubtedly,
if a man be EBRIUS, or intoxicated--an incident which, on solemn and
festive occasions, may and will take place in the life of a man of
honour; and if the same gentleman, being fresh and sober, recants the
contumelies which he hath spoken in his liquor, it must be held VINUM
LOCUTUM EST; the words cease to be his own. Yet would I not find this
exculpation relevant in the case of one who was EBRIOSUS, or an habitual
drunkard; because, if such a person choose to pass the greater part
of his time in the predicament of intoxication, he hath no title to be
exeemed from the obligations of the code of politeness, but should learn
to deport himself peaceably and courteously when under the influence of
the vinous stimulus.--And now let us proceed to breakfast, and think no
more of this daft business.'

I must confess, whatever inference may be drawn from the circumstance,
that Edward, after so satisfactory an explanation, did much greater
honour to the delicacies of Miss Bradwardine's breakfast-table than
his commencement had promised. Balmawhapple, on the contrary, seemed
embarrassed and dejected; and Waverley now, for the first time, observed
that his arm was in a sling, which seemed to account for the awkward and
embarrassed manner with which he had presented his hand. To a question
from Miss Bradwardine, he muttered, in answer, something about his horse
having fallen; and, seeming desirous to escape both from the subject and
the company, he arose as soon as breakfast was over, made his bow to the
party, and, declining the Baron's invitation to tarry till after dinner,
mounted his horse and returned to his own home.

Waverley now announced his purpose of leaving Tully-Veolan early enough
after dinner to gain the stage at which he meant to sleep; but the
unaffected and deep mortification with which the good-natured and
affectionate old gentleman heard the proposal, quite deprived him of
courage to persist in it. No sooner had he gained Waverley's consent
to lengthen his visit for a few days, than he laboured to remove the
grounds upon which he conceived he had meditated a more early retreat.
'I would not have you opine, Captain Waverley, that I am by practice or
precept an advocate of ebriety, though it may be that, in our festivity
of last night, some of our friends, if not perchance altogether EBRII,
or drunken, were, to say the least, EBRIOLI, by which the ancients
designed those who were fuddled, or, as your English vernacular and
metaphorical phrase goes, half-seas-over. Not that I would so insinuate
respecting you, Captain Waverley, who, like a prudent youth, did rather
abstain from potation; nor can it be truly said of myself, who, having
assisted at the tables of many great generals and marechals at their
solemn carousals, have the art to carry my wine discreetly, and did not,
during the whole evening, as ye must have doubtless observed, exceed the
bounds of a modest hilarity.'

There was no refusing assent to a proposition so decidedly laid down by
him who undoubtedly was the best judge; although, had Edward formed his
opinion from his own recollections, he would have pronounced that the
Baron was not only EBRIOLUS, but verging to become EBRIUS; or, in plain
English, was incomparably the most drunk of the party, except perhaps
his antagonist the Laird of Balmawhapple. However, having received the
expected, or rather the required, compliment on his sobriety, the Baron
proceeded,--'No, sir, though I am myself of a strong temperament, I
abhor ebriety, and detest those who swallow wine GULAE CAUSA, for the
oblectation of the gullet; albeit I might deprecate the law of Pittacus
of Mitylene, who punished doubly a crime committed under the influence
of LIBER PATER; nor would I utterly accede to the objurgation of the
younger Plinius, in the fourteenth book of his HISTORIA NATURALIS. No,
sir; I distinguish, I discriminate, and approve of wine so far only as
it maketh glad the face, or, in the language of Flaccus, RECEPTO AMICO.'

Thus terminated the apology which the Baron of Bradwardine thought it
necessary to make for the super-abundance of his hospitality; and it may
be easily believed that he was neither interrupted by dissent, nor any
expression of incredulity.

He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and ordered that Davie
Gellatley should meet them at the DERN PATH with Ban and Buscar. 'For,
until the shooting season commenced, I would willingly show you some
sport, and we may, God willing, meet with a roe. The roe, Captain
Waverley, may be hunted at all times alike; for never being in what is
called PRIDE OF GREASE, he is also never out of season, though it be a
truth that his venison is not equal to that of either the red or fallow
deer. [The learned in cookery dissent from the Baron of Bradwardine, and
hold the roe-venison dry and indifferent food, unless when dressed in
soup and Scotch collops.] But he will serve to show how my dogs run; and
therefore they shall attend us with Davie Gellatley.'

Waverley expressed his surprise that his friend Davie was capable
of such trust; but the Baron gave him to understand that this poor
simpleton was neither fatuous, NEC NATURALITER IDIOTA, as is expressed
in the brieves of furiosity, but simply a crack-brained knave, who could
execute very well any commission which jumped with his own humour, and
made his folly a plea for avoiding every other. 'He has made an interest
with us,' continued the Baron, 'by saving Rose from a great danger with
his own proper peril; and the roguish loon must therefore eat of our
bread and drink of our cup, and do what he can, or what he will; which,
if the suspicions of Saunderson and the Bailie are well founded, may
perchance in his case be commensurate terms.'

Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, that this poor
simpleton was doatingly fond of music, deeply affected by that which was
melancholy, and transported into extravagant gaiety by light and
lively airs. He had in this respect a prodigious memory, stored with
miscellaneous snatches and fragments of all tunes and songs, which
he sometimes applied, with considerable address, as the vehicles of
remonstrance, explanation, or satire. Davie was much attached to the few
who showed him kindness; and both aware of any slight or ill usage which
he happened to receive, and sufficiently apt, where he saw opportunity,
to revenge it. The common people, who often judge hardly of each
other, as well as of their betters, although they had expressed great
compassion for the poor innocent while suffered to wander in rags about
the village, no sooner beheld him decently clothed, provided for, and
even a sort of favourite, than they called up all the instances of
sharpness and ingenuity, in action and repartee, which his annals
afforded, and charitably bottomed thereupon a hypothesis, that Davie
Gellatley was no further fool than was necessary to avoid hard labour.
This opinion was not better founded than that of the Negroes, who, from
the acute and mischievous pranks of the monkeys, suppose that they
have the gift of speech, and only suppress their powers of elocution
to escape being set to work. But the hypothesis was entirely imaginary:
Davie Gellatley was in good earnest the half-crazed simpleton which he
appeared, and was incapable of any constant and steady exertion. He had
just so much solidity as kept on the windy side of insanity; so much
wild wit as saved him from the imputation of idiocy; some dexterity
in field sports (in which we have known as great fools excel), great
kindness and humanity in the treatment of animals entrusted to him, warm
affections, a prodigious memory, and an ear for music.

The stamping of horses was now heard in the court, and Davie's voice
singing to the two large deer greyhounds,--

     Hie away, hie away,
     Over bank and over brae,
     Where the copsewood is the greenest,
     Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
     Where the lady-fern grows strongest,
     Where the morning dew lies longest,
     Where the black-cock sweetest sips it,
     Where the fairy latest trips it:
     Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
     Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
     Over bank and over brae,
     Hie away, hie away.

'Do the verses he sings,' asked Waverley, 'belong to old Scottish
poetry, Miss Bradwardine?'

'I believe not,' she replied. 'This poor creature had a brother, and
Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davie's deficiencies, had
given him what the hamlet thought uncommon talents. An uncle contrived
to educate him for the Scottish kirk, but he could not get preferment
because he came from our GROUND. He returned from college hopeless and
broken-hearted, and fell into a decline. My father supported him till
his death, which happened before he was nineteen. He played beautifully
on the flute, and was supposed to have a great turn for poetry. He was
affectionate and compassionate to his brother, who followed him like
his shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered many fragments of
songs and music unlike those of this country. But if we ask him where
he got such a fragment as he is now singing, he either answers with wild
and long fits of laughter, or else breaks into tears of lamentation;
but was never heard to give any explanation, or to mention his brother's
name since his death.'

'Surely,' said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale bordering on
the romantic, 'surely more might be learned by more particular inquiry.'

'Perhaps so,' answered Rose, 'but my father will not permit any one to
practise on his feelings on this subject.'

By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had indued
a pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now invited our hero to
follow him as he stalked clattering down the ample staircase, tapping
each huge balustrade as he passed with the butt of his massive
horsewhip, and humming, with the air of a chasseur of Louis Quatorze,

     Pour la chasse ordonnee il faut preparer tout,
     Hola ho!  Vite!  vite debout.



CHAPTER XIII

A MORE RATIONAL DAY THAN THE LAST

The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well-managed horse,
and seated on a demi-pique saddle, with deep housings to agree with his
livery, was no bad representative of the old school. His light-coloured
embroidered coat, and superbly barred waistcoat, his brigadier wig,
surmounted by a small gold-laced cocked-hat, completed his personal
costume; but he was attended by two well-mounted servants on horseback,
armed with holster pistols.

In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the admiration of
every farmyard which they passed in their progress, till, 'low down in
a grassy vale,' they found Davie Gellatley leading two very tall deer
greyhounds, and presiding over half a dozen curs, and about as many
bare-legged and bare-headed boys, who, to procure the chosen distinction
of attending on the chase, had not failed to tickle his ears with the
dulcet appellation of Maister Gellatley, though probably all and each
had booted him on former occasions in the character of daft Davie.
But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to persons in office, nor
altogether confined to the bare-legged villagers of Tully-Veolan: it
was in fashion Sixty Years since, is now, and will be six hundred years
hence, if this admirable compound of folly and knavery, called the
world, shall be then in existence.

These GILLIE-WET-FOOTS, [A bare-footed Highland lad is called a
gillie-wet-foot. Gillie, in general, means servant or attendant.] as
they were called, were destined to beat the bushes, which they performed
with so much success, that, after half an hour's search, a roe was
started, coursed, and killed; the Baron following on his white horse,
like Earl Percy of yore, and magnanimously flaying and embowelling the
slain animal (which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs
FAIRE LA CUREE) with his own baronial COUTEAU DE CHASSE. After this
ceremony he conducted his guest homeward by a pleasant and circuitous
route, commanding an extensive prospect of different villages and
houses, to each of which Mr. Bradwardine attached some anecdote of
history or genealogy, told in language whimsical from prejudice and
pedantry, but often respectable for the good sense and honourable
feelings which his narrative displayed, and almost always curious, if
not valuable, for the information they contained.

The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gentlemen, because they
found amusement in each other's conversation, although their characters
and habits of thinking were in many respects totally opposite. Edward,
we have informed the reader, was warm in his feelings, wild and romantic
in his ideas and in his taste of reading, with a strong disposition
towards poetry. Mr. Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and piqued
himself upon stalking through life with the same upright, starched,
stoical gravity which distinguished his evening promenade upon the
terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for hours together--the very model old
Hardyknute--

     Stately stepped he east the wa',
     And stately stepped he west.

As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the
EPITHALAMIUM of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur Johnston's PSALMS, of
a Sunday; and the DELICIAE POETARUM SCOTORUM, and Sir David Lindsay's
WORKS, and Barbour's BRUCE, and Blind Harry's WALLACE, and the GENTLE
SHEPHERD, and the CHERRY AND THE SLAE. But though he thus far sacrificed
his time to the Muses, he would if the truth must be spoken, have been
much better pleased had the pious or sapient apothegms, as well as
the historical narratives, which these various works contained, been
presented to him in the form of simple prose. And he sometimes could not
refrain from expressing contempt of the 'vain and unprofitable art of
poem-making,' in which, he said, 'the only one who had excelled in his
time was Allan Ramsay, the periwig-maker.'

[The Baron ought to have remembered that the joyous Allan literally drew
his blood from the house of the noble Earl, whom he terms--

     Dalhousie of an old descent,
     My stoup, my pride, my ornament.]

But although Edward and he differed TOTO COELO, as the Baron would
have said, upon this subject, yet they met upon history as on a neutral
ground, in which each claimed an interest. The Baron, indeed, only
cumbered his memory with matters of fact; the cold, dry, hard outlines
which history delineates. Edward, on the contrary, loved to fill up and
round the sketch with the colouring of a warm and vivid imagination,
which gives light and life to the actors and speakers in the drama of
past ages. Yet with tastes so opposite, they contributed greatly to
each other's amusement. Mr. Bradwardine's minute narratives and powerful
memory supplied to Waverley fresh subjects of the kind upon which his
fancy loved to labour, and opened to him a new mine of incident and of
character. And he repaid the pleasure thus communicated, by an earnest
attention, valuable to all story-tellers, more especially to the Baron,
who felt his habits of self-respect flattered by it; and sometimes
also by reciprocal communications, which interested Mr. Bradwardine,
as confirming or illustrating his own favourite anecdotes. Besides, Mr.
Bradwardine loved to talk of the scenes of his youth, which had been
spent in camps and foreign lands, and had many interesting particulars
to tell of the generals under whom he had served, and the actions he had
witnessed.

Both parties returned to Tully-Veolan in great good humour with each
other; Waverley desirous of studying more attentively what he considered
as a singular and interesting character, gifted with a memory containing
a curious register of ancient and modern anecdotes; and Bradwardine
disposed to regard Edward as PUER (or rather JUVENIS) BONAE SPEI ET
MAGNAE INDOLIS, a youth devoid of that petulant volatility, which is
impatient of, or vilipends, the conversation and advice of his
seniors, from which he predicted great things of his future success and
deportment in life. There was no other guest except Mr. Rubrick, whose
information and discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar, harmonized very
well with that of the Baron and his guest.

Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his temperance was
not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to Rose's apartment, or, as
he termed it, her TROISIEME ETAGE. Waverley was accordingly conducted
through one or two of those long awkward passages with which ancient
architects studied to puzzle the inhabitants of the houses which they
planned, at the end of which Mr. Bradwardine began to ascend, by two
steps at once, a very steep, narrow, and winding stair, leaving Mr.
Rubrick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while he should announce
their approach to his daughter.

After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew until their brains
were almost giddy, they arrived in a little matted lobby, which served
as an ante-room to Rose's SANCTUM SANCTORUM, and through which they
entered her parlour. It was a small but pleasant apartment, opening to
the south, and hung with tapestry; adorned besides with two pictures,
one of her mother, in the dress of a shepherdess, with a bell-hoop;
the other of the Baron, in his tenth year, in a blue coat, embroidered
waistcoat, laced hat, and bag-wig, with a bow in his hand. Edward could
not help smiling at the costume, and at the odd resemblance between
the round, smooth, red-checked, staring visage in the portrait, and
the gaunt, bearded, hollow-eyed, swarthy features, which travelling,
fatigues of war, and advanced age, had bestowed on the original. The
Baron joined in the laugh. 'Truly,' he said, 'that picture was a woman's
fantasy of my good mother's (a daughter of the Laird of Tulliellum,
Captain Waverley; I indicated the house to you when we were on the top
of the Shinnyheuch; it was burnt by the Dutch auxiliaries brought in by
the Government in 1715); I never sat for my pourtraicture but once since
that was painted, and it was at the special and reiterated request of
the Marechal Duke of Berwick.'

The good old gentleman did not mention what Mr. Rubrick afterwards told
Edward, that the Duke had done him this honour on account of his being
the first to mount the breach of a fort; in Savoy during the memorable
campaign of 1709, and his having there defended himself with his
half-pike for nearly ten minutes before any support reached him. To do
the Baron justice, although sufficiently prone to dwell upon, and even
to exaggerate, his family dignity and consequence, he was too much a man
of real courage ever to allude to such personal acts of merit as he had
himself manifested.

Miss Rose now appeared from the interior room of her apartment, to
welcome her father and his friends. The little labours in which she
had been employed obviously showed a natural taste, which required only
cultivation. Her father had taught her French and Italian, and a few of
the ordinary authors in those languages ornamented her shelves. He had
endeavoured also to be her preceptor in music; but as he began with the
more abstruse doctrines of the science, and was not perhaps master of
them himself, she had made no proficiency further than to be able to
accompany her voice with the harpsichord; but even this was not very
common in Scotland at that period. To make amends, she sang with great
taste and feeling, and with a respect to the sense of what she uttered
that might be proposed in example to ladies of much superior musical
talent. Her natural good sense taught her, that if, as we are assured
by high authority, music be 'married to immortal verse,' they are
very often divorced by the performer in a most shameful manner. It was
perhaps owing to this sensibility to poetry, and power of combining its
expression with those of the musical notes, that her singing gave more
pleasure to all the unlearned in music, and even to many of the learned,
than could have been communicated by a much finer voice and more
brilliant execution, unguided by the same delicacy of feeling.

A bartizan, or projecting gallery, before the windows of her parlour,
served to illustrate another of Rose's pursuits; for it was crowded
with flowers of different kinds, which she had taken under her special
protection. A projecting turret gave access to this Gothic balcony,
which commanded a most beautiful prospect. The formal garden, with its
high bounding walls, lay below, contracted, as it seemed, to a mere
parterre; while the view extended beyond them down a wooded glen, where
the small river was sometimes visible, sometimes hidden in copse. The
eye might be delayed by a desire to rest on the rocks, which here and
there rose from the dell with massive or spiry fronts, or it might dwell
on the noble, though ruined tower, which was here beheld in all its
dignity, frowning from a promontory over the river. To the left were
seen two or three cottages, a part of the village; the brow of the hill
concealed the others. The glen, or dell, was terminated by a sheet of
water, called Loch-Veolan, into which the brook discharged itself, and
which now glistened in the western sun. The distant country seemed
open and varied in surface, though not wooded; and there was nothing to
interrupt the view until the scene was bounded by a ridge of distant and
blue hills, which formed the southern boundary of the strath or valley.
To this pleasant station Miss Bradwardine had ordered coffee.

The view of the old tower, or fortalice, introduced some family
anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, which the Baron told with
great enthusiasm. The projecting peak of an impending crag which rose
near it, had acquired the name of St. Swithin's Chair. it was the scene
of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Rubrick mentioned some curious
particulars, which reminded Waverley of a rhyme quoted By Edgar in KING
LEAR; and Rose was called upon to sing a little legend, in which they
had been interwoven by some village poet,

     Who, noteless as the race from which he sprung,
     Saved others' names, but left his own unsung.

The sweetness of her voice, and the simple beauty of her music, gave
all the advantage which the minstrel could have desired, and which his
poetry so much wanted. I almost doubt if it can be read with patience,
destitute of these advantages; although I conjecture the following copy
to have been somewhat corrected by Waverley, to suit the taste of those
who might not relish pure antiquity:--

     ST. SWITHIN'S CHAIR.

     On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest,
     Ever beware that your couch be blessed;
     Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead,
     Sing the Ave, and say the Creed.

     For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride,
     And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side,
     Whether the wind sing lowly or loud,
     Sailing through moonshine or swathed in the cloud.

     The Lady she sat in St. Swithin's Chair,
     The dew of the night has damped her hair:
     Her cheek was pale--but resolved and high
     Was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye.

     She muttered the spell of Swithin bold,
     When his naked foot traced the midnight wold,
     When he stopped the Hag as she rode the night,
     And bade her descend, and her promise plight.

     He that dare sit on St. Swithin's Chair,
     When the Night-Hag wings the troubled air,
     Questions three, when he speaks the spell,
     He may ask, and she must tell.

     The Baron has been with King Robert his liege,
     These three long years in battle and siege;
     News are there none of his weal or his woe,
     And fain the Lady his fate would know.

     She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks;--
     Is it the moody owl that shrieks?
     Or is it that sound, betwixt laughter and scream,
     The voice of the Demon who haunts the stream?

     The moan of the wind sunk silent and low,
     And the roaring torrent ceased to flow;
     The calm was more dreadful than raging storm,
     Then the cold grey mist brought the ghastly form!

     .   .   .   .   .   .

'I am sorry to disappoint the company, especially Captain Waverley, who
listens with such laudable gravity; it is but a fragment, although I
think there are other verses, describing the return of the Baron from
the wars, and how the lady was found "clay-cold upon the grounsill
ledge."'

'It is one of those figments,' observed Mr. Bradwardine, 'with which
the early history of distinguished families was deformed in the times
of superstition; as that of Rome, and other ancient nations, had their
prodigies, sir, the which you may read in ancient histories, or in the
little work compiled by Julius Obsequens, and inscribed by the learned
Scheffer, the editor, to his patron, Benedictus Skytte, Baron of
Dudershoff.'

'My father has a strange defiance of the marvellous, Captain Waverley,'
observed Rose, 'and once stood firm when a whole synod of Presbyterian
divines were put to the rout by a sudden apparition of the foul fiend.'

Waverley looked as if desirous to hear more.

Must I tell my story as well as sing my song?--Well.--Once upon a time
there lived an old woman, called Janet Gellatley, who was suspected to
be a witch, on the infallible grounds that she was very old, very ugly,
very poor, and had two sons, one of whom was a poet, and the other a
fool, which visitation, all the neighbourhood agreed, had come upon
her for the sin of witchcraft. And she was imprisoned for a week in the
steeple of the parish church, and sparingly supplied with food, and not
permitted to sleep, until she herself became as much persuaded of her
being a witch as her accusers; and in this lucid and happy state of
mind was brought forth to make a clean breast, that is, to make open
confession of her sorceries, before all the Whig gentry and ministers
in the vicinity, who were no conjurers themselves. My father went to see
fair play between the witch and the clergy; for the witch had been
born on his estate. 'And while the witch was confessing that the Enemy
appeared, and made his addresses to her as a handsome black man,--which,
if you could have seen poor old blear-eyed Janet, reflected little
honour on Apollyon's taste,--and while the auditors listened with
astonished ears, and the clerk recorded with a trembling hand, she, all
of a sudden, changed the low mumbling tone with which she spoke into a
shrill yell, and exclaimed, "Look to yourselves! look to yourselves! I
see the Evil One sitting in the midst of ye." The surprise was general,
and terror and flight its immediate consequences. Happy were those who
were next the door; and many were the disasters that befell hats, bands,
cuffs, and wigs, before they could get out of the church, where they
left the obstinate prelatist to settle matters with the witch and her
admirer, at his own peril or pleasure.'

'RISU SOLVUNTUR TABULAE,' said the Baron: 'when they recovered their
panic trepidation, they were too much ashamed to bring any wakening of
the process against Janet Gellatley.' [The story last told was said to
have happened in the south of Scotland; but--CEDANT ARMA TOGAE--and
let the gown have its dues. It was an old clergyman, who had wisdom and
firmness enough to resist the panic which seized his brethren, who was
the means of rescuing a poor insane creature from the cruel fate which
would otherwise have overtaken her. The accounts of the trials for
witchcraft form one of the most deplorable chapters in Scottish story.]

This anecdote led to a long discussion of

     All those idle thoughts and fantasies,
     Devices, dreams, opinions unsound,
     Shows, visions, soothsays, and prophecies,
     And all that feigned is, as leasings, tales, and lies.

With such conversation, and the romantic legends which it produced,
closed our hero's second evening in the house of Tully-Veolan.



CHAPTER XIV

A DISCOVERY--WAVERLEY BECOMES DOMESTICATED AT TULLY-VEOLAN

The next day Edward arose betimes, and in a morning walk around the
house and its vicinity, came suddenly upon a small court in front of the
dog-kennel, where his friend Davie was employed about his four-footed
charge. One quick glance of his eye recognized Waverley, when, instantly
turning his back, as if he had not observed him, he began to sing part
of an old ballad:--

     Young men will love thee more fair and more fast;
     HEARD YE SO MERRY THE LITTLE BIRD SING?
     Old men's love the longest will last,
     AND THE THROSTLE-COCK'S HEAD IS UNDER HIS WING.

     The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire;
     HEARD YE SO MERRY THE LITTLE BIRD SING?
     But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire,
     AND THE THROSTLE-COCK'S HEAD IS UNDER HIS WING.

     The young man will brawl at the evening board;
     HEARD YE SO MERRY THE LITTLE BIRD SING?
     But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword,
     AND THE THROSTLE-COCK'S HEAD IS UNDER HIS WING.

Waverley could not avoid observing that Davie laid something like
a satirical emphasis on these lines. He therefore approached, and
endeavoured, by sundry queries, to elicit from him what the innuendo
might mean; but Davie had no mind to explain, and had wit enough to
make his folly cloak his knavery. Edward could collect nothing from
him, excepting that the Laird of Balmawhapple had gone home yesterday
morning, 'wi' his boots fu' o' bluid.' In the garden, however, he met
the old butler, who no longer attempted to conceal, that, having been
bred in the nursery line with Sumack & Co., of Newcastle, he sometimes
wrought a turn in the flower-borders to oblige the Laird and Miss Rose.
By a series of queries, Edward at length discovered, with a painful
feeling of surprise and shame, that Balmawhapple's submission and
apology had been the consequence of a rencontre with the Baron before
his guest had quitted his pillow, in which the younger combatant had
been disarmed and wounded in the sword-arm.

Greatly mortified at this information, Edward sought out his friendly
host, and anxiously expostulated with him upon the injustice he had done
him in anticipating his meeting with Mr. Falconer, a circumstance which,
considering his youth and the profession of arms which he had just
adopted, was capable of being represented much to his prejudice. The
Baron justified himself at greater length than I choose to repeat. He
urged that the quarrel was common to them, and that Balmawhapple could
not, by the code of honour, EVITE giving satisfaction to both, which he
had done in his case by an honourable meeting, and in that of Edward by
such a PALINODE as rendered the use of the sword unnecessary, and which,
being made and accepted, must necessarily SOPITE the whole affair.

With this excuse or explanation, Waverley was silenced, if not
satisfied; but he could not help testifying some displeasure against
the Blessed Bear, which had given rise to the quarrel, nor refrain from
hinting, that the sanctified epithet was hardly appropriate. The Baron
observed, he could not deny that 'the Bear, though allowed by heralds
as a most honourable ordinary, had, nevertheless, somewhat fierce,
churlish, and morose in his disposition (as might be read in Archibald
Simson, pastor of Dalkeith's HIEROGLYPHICA ANIMALIUM), and had thus
been the type of many quarrels and dissensions which had occurred in the
house of Bradwardine; of which,' he continued, 'I might commemorate mine
own unfortunate dissension with my third cousin by the mother's side,
Sir Hew Halbert, who was so unthinking as to deride my family name, as
if it had been QUASI BEARWARDEN; a most uncivil jest, since it not only
insinuated that the founder of our house occupied such a mean situation
as to be a custodier of wild beasts, a charge which, ye must have
observed, is only entrusted to the very basest plebeians; but, moreover,
seemed to infer that our coat-armour had not been achieved by honourable
actions in war, but bestowed by way of PARONOMASIA, or pun upon our
family appellation,--a sort of bearing which the French call ARMOIRES
PARLANTES; the Latins ARMA CANTANTIA; and your English authorities,
canting heraldry; being indeed a species of emblazoning more befitting
canters, gaberlunzies, and such-like mendicants, whose gibberish is
formed upon playing upon the word, than the noble, honourable, and
useful science of heraldry, which assigns armorial bearings as the
reward of noble and generous actions, and not to tickle the ear with
vain quodlibets, such as are found in jest-books.' [9] Of his
quarrel with Sir Hew, he said nothing more, than that it was settled in
a fitting manner.

Having been so minute with respect to the diversions of Tully-Veolan, on
the first days of Edward's arrival, for the purpose of introducing its
inmates to the reader's acquaintance, it becomes less necessary to trace
the progress of his intercourse with the same accuracy. It is probable
that a young man, accustomed to more cheerful society, would have tired
of the conversation of so violent an asserter of the 'boast of heraldry'
as the Baron; but Edward found an agreeable variety in that of Miss
Bradwardine, who listened with eagerness to his remarks upon literature,
and showed great justness of taste in her answers. The sweetness of her
disposition had made her submit with complacency, and even pleasure,
to the course of reading prescribed by her father, although it not only
comprehended several heavy folios of history, but certain gigantic tomes
in High Church polemics. In heraldry he was fortunately contented to
give her only such a slight tincture as might be acquired by perusal of
the two folio volumes of Nisbet. Rose was indeed the very apple of her
father's eye. Her constant liveliness, her attention to all those little
observances most gratifying to those who would never think of exacting
them, her beauty, in which he recalled the features of his beloved wife,
her unfeigned piety, and the noble generosity of her disposition, would
have justified the affection of the most doting father.

His anxiety on her behalf did not, however, seem to extend itself
in that quarter, where, according to the general opinion, it is most
efficiently displayed; in labouring, namely, to establish her in life,
either by a large dowry or a wealthy marriage. By an old settlement,
almost all the landed estates of the Baron went, after his death, to a
distant relation; and it was supposed that Miss Bradwardine would remain
but slenderly provided for, as the good gentleman's cash matters had
been too long under the exclusive charge of Bailie Macwheeble, to admit
of any great expectations from his personal succession. It is true, the
said Bailie loved his patron and his patron's daughter next (although at
an incomparable distance) to himself. He thought it was possible to
set aside the settlement on the male line, and had actually procured
an opinion to that effect (and, as he boasted, without a fee) from an
eminent Scottish counsel, under whose notice he contrived to bring the
point while consulting him regularly on some other business. But
the Baron would not listen to such a proposal for an instant. On the
contrary, he used to have a perverse pleasure in boasting that the
barony of Bradwardine was a male fief, the first charter having been
given at that early period when women were not deemed capable to hold a
feudal grant; because, according to Les COUSTUSMES DE NORMANDIE, C'EST
L'HOMME KI SE BAST ET KI CONSEILLE; or, as is yet more ungallantly
expressed by other authorities, all of whose barbarous names he
delighted to quote at full length, because a woman could not serve the
superior, or feudal lord, in war, on account of the decorum of her sex,
nor assist him with advice, because of her limited intellect, nor
keep his counsel, owing to the infirmity of her disposition. He would
triumphantly ask, how it would become a female, and that female a
Bradwardine, to be seen employed in, SERVITIO EXUENDI, SEU DETRAHENDI,
CALIGAS REGIS POST BATTALIAM? that is, in pulling off the king's boots
after an engagement, which was the feudal service by which he held the
barony of Bradwardine. 'No,' he said, 'beyond hesitation, PROCUL DUBIO,
many females, as worthy as Rose, had been excluded, in order to make
way for my own succession, and Heaven forbid that I should do aught that
might contravene the destination of my forefathers, or impinge upon the
right of my kinsman, Malcolm Bradwardine of Inchgrabbit, an honourable
though decayed branch of my own family.'

The Bailie, as prime minister, having received this decisive
communication from his sovereign, durst not press his own opinion
any further, but contented himself with deploring, on all suitable
occasions, to Saunderson, the minister of the interior, the Laird's
self-willedness, and with laying plans for uniting Rose with the young
laird of Balmawhapple, who had a fine estate, only moderately burdened,
and was a faultless young gentleman, being as sober as a saint--if you
keep brandy from him, and him from brandy--and who, in brief, had
no imperfection but that of keeping light company at a time; such as
Jinker, the horse-couper, and Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper o' Cupar;
o' whilk follies, Mr. Saunderson, he'll mend, he'll mend,'--pronounced
the Bailie.

'Like sour ale in simmer,' added Davie Gellatley, who happened to be
nearer the conclave than they were aware of.

Miss Bradwardine, such as we have described her, with all the simplicity
and curiosity of a recluse, attached herself to the opportunities of
increasing her store of literature which Edward's visit afforded her.
He sent for some of his books from his quarters, and they opened to
her sources of delight of which she had hitherto had no idea. The best
English poets, of every description, and other works on belles lettres,
made a part of this precious cargo. Her music, even her flowers, were
neglected, and Saunders not only mourned over, but began to mutiny
against the labour for which he now scarce received thanks. These
new pleasures became gradually enhanced by sharing them with one of
a kindred taste. Edward's readiness to comment, to recite, to explain
difficult passages, rendered his assistance invaluable; and the wild
romance of his spirit delighted a character too young and inexperienced
to observe its deficiencies. Upon subjects which interested him, and
when quite at ease, he possessed that flow of natural, and somewhat
florid eloquence, which has been supposed as powerful even as figure,
fashion, fame, or fortune, in winning the female heart. There was,
therefore, an increasing danger in this constant intercourse, to poor
Rose's peace of mind, which was the more imminent, as her father was
greatly too much abstracted in his studies, and wrapped up in his own
dignity, to dream of his daughter's incurring it. The daughters of the
house of Bradwardine were, in his opinion, like those of the house of
Bourbon or Austria, placed high above the clouds of passion which
might obfuscate the intellects of meaner females; they moved in another
sphere, were governed by other feelings, and amenable to other rules,
than those of idle and fantastic affection. In short, he shut his eyes
so resolutely to the natural consequences of Edward's intimacy with Miss
Bradwardine, that the whole neighbourhood concluded that he had opened
them to the advantages of a match between his daughter and the wealthy
young Englishman, and pronounced him much less a fool than he had
generally shown himself in cases where his own interest was concerned.

If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an alliance, the
indifference of Waverley would have been an insuperable bar to his
project. Our hero, since mixing more freely with the world, had learned
to think with great shame and confusion upon his mental legend of Saint
Cecilia, and the vexation of these reflections was likely, for some
time at least, to counterbalance the natural susceptibility of his
disposition. Besides, Rose Bradwardine, beautiful and amiable as we
have described her, had not precisely the sort of beauty or merit which
captivates a romantic imagination in early youth. She was too frank, too
confiding, too kind; amiable qualities, undoubtedly, but destructive of
the marvellous, with which a youth of imagination delights to address
the empress of his affections. Was it possible to bow, to tremble,
and to adore, before the timid, yet playful little girl, who now asked
Edward to mend her pen, now to construe a stanza in Tasso, and now
how to spell a very--very long word in her version of it? All these
incidents have their fascination on the mind at a certain period of
life, but not when a youth is entering it, and rather looking out
for some object whose affection may dignify him in his own eyes, than
stooping to one who looks up to him for such distinction. Hence,
though there can be no rule in so capricious a passion, early love is
frequently ambitious in choosing its object; or, which comes to the
same, selects her (as in the case of Saint Cecilia aforesaid) from a
situation that gives fair scope for LE BEAU IDEAL, which the reality of
intimate and familiar life rather tends to limit and impair. I knew a
very accomplished and sensible young man cured of a violent passion for
a pretty woman, whose talents were not equal to her face and figure, by
being permitted to bear her company for a whole afternoon. Thus it is
certain, that had Edward enjoyed such an opportunity of conversing with
Miss Stubbs, Aunt Rachel's precaution would have been unnecessary, for
he would as soon have fallen in love with the dairymaid. And although
Miss Bradwardine was a very different character, it seems probable that
the very intimacy of their intercourse prevented his feeling for her
other sentiments than those of a brother for an amiable and accomplished
sister; while the sentiments of poor Rose were gradually, and without
her being conscious, assuming a shade of warmer affection.

I ought to have said that Edward, when he sent to Dundee for the books
before mentioned, had applied for, and received permission, extending
his leave of absence. But the letter of his commanding-officer contained
a friendly recommendation to him, not to spend his time exclusively with
persons, who, estimable as they might be in a general sense, could
not be supposed well affected to a government which they declined
to acknowledge by taking the oath of allegiance. The letter further
insinuated, though with great delicacy, that although some family
connexions might be supposed to render it necessary for Captain Waverley
to communicate with gentlemen who were in this unpleasant state of
suspicion, yet his father's situation and wishes ought to prevent
his prolonging those attentions into exclusive intimacy. And it was
intimated, that; while his political principles were endangered by
communicating with laymen of this description, he might also receive
erroneous impressions in religion from the prelatic clergy, who so
perversely laboured to set up the royal prerogative in things sacred.

This last insinuation probably induced Waverley to set both down to
the prejudices of his commanding-officer. He was sensible that Mr.
Bradwardine had acted with the most scrupulous delicacy, in never
entering upon any discussion that had the most remote tendency to bias
his mind in political opinions, although he was himself not only a
decided partisan of the exiled family, but had been trusted at different
times with important commissions for their service. Sensible, therefore,
that there was no risk of his being perverted from his allegiance,
Edward felt as if he should do his uncle's old friend injustice in
removing from a house where he gave and received pleasure and amusement,
merely to gratify a prejudiced and ill-judged suspicion, He therefore
wrote a very general answer, assuring his commanding-officer that
his loyalty was not in the most distant danger of contamination, and
continued an honoured guest and inmate of the house of Tully-Veolan.



CHAPTER XV

A CREAGH, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES [A CREAGH was an incursion for plunder,
termed on the Borders a raid.]

When Edward had been a guest at Tully-Veolan nearly six weeks,
he descried one morning, as he took his usual walk before the
breakfast-hour, signs of uncommon perturbation in the family. Four
bare-legged dairymaids, with each an empty milk-pail in her hand, ran
about with frantic gestures, and uttering loud exclamations of surprise,
grief, and resentment. From their appearance, a pagan might have
conceived them a detachment of the celebrated Belides, just come from
their baling penance. As nothing was to be got from this distracted
chorus, excepting 'Lord guide us!' and 'Eh, sirs!' ejaculations which
threw no light upon the cause of their dismay, Waverley repaired to the
forecourt, as it was called, where he beheld Bailie Macwheeble cantering
his white pony down the avenue with all the speed it could muster. He
had arrived, it would seem, upon a hasty summons and was followed by
half a score of peasants from the village, who had no great difficulty
in keeping pace with him.

The Bailie, greatly too busy, and too important, to enter into
explanations with Edward, summoned forth Mr. Saunderson, who appeared
with a countenance in which dismay was mingled with solemnity, and they
immediately entered into close conference. Davie Gellatley was also
seen in the group, idle as Diogenes at Sinope, while his countrymen were
preparing for a siege. His spirits always rose with anything, good
or bad, which occasioned tumult, and he continued frisking, hopping,
dancing, and singing the burden of an old ballad,

     Our gear's a' gane,

until, happening to pass too near the Bailie, he received an admonitory
hint from his horsewhip, which converted his songs into lamentation.

Passing from thence towards the garden, Waverley beheld the Baron in
person, measuring and re-measuring, with swift and tremendous strides,
the length of the terrace; his countenance clouded with offended pride
and indignation, and the whole of his demeanour such as seemed to
indicate, that any inquiry concerning the cause of his discomposure
would give pain at least, if not offence. Waverley therefore glided into
the house, without addressing him, and took his way to the breakfast
parlour, where he found his young friend Rose, who, though she neither
exhibited the resentment of her father, the turbid importance of Bailie
Macwheeble, nor the despair of the hand-maidens, seemed vexed and
thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery. 'Your breakfast will
be a disturbed one, Captain Waverley, A party of Caterans have come down
upon us, last night, and have driven off all our milch cows.'

'A party of Caterans?'

'Yes; robbers from the neighbouring Highlands. We used to be quite free
from them while we paid blackmail to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr;
but my father thought it unworthy of his rank and birth to pay it any
longer, and so this disaster has happened. It is not the value of the
cattle, Captain Waverley, that vexes me; but my father is so much hurt
at the affront, and is so bold and hot, that I fear he will try to
recover them by the strong hand; and if he is not hurt himself, he will
hurt some of these wild people, and then there will be no peace between
them and us perhaps for our lifetime; and we cannot defend ourselves as
is old times, for the government have taken all our arms; and my dear
father is so rash--Oh, what will become of us!'--Here poor Rose lost
heart altogether, and burst into a flood of tears.

The Baron entered at this moment, and rebuked her with more asperity
than Waverley had ever heard him use to any one. 'Was it not a shame,'
he said, 'that she should exhibit herself before any gentleman in such
a light, as if she shed tears for a drove of horned nolt and milch kine,
like the daughter of a Cheshire yeoman! Captain Waverley, I must request
your favourable construction of her grief, which may, or ought to
proceed, solely from seeing her father's estate exposed to spulzie and
depredation from common thieves and sornars, [Sornars may be translated
sturdy beggars, more especially indicating those unwelcome visitors who
exact lodgings and victuals by force, or something approaching to it.]
while we are not allowed to keep half a score of muskets, whether for
defence or rescue.'

Bailie Macwheeble entered immediately afterwards, and by his report of
arms and ammunition confirmed this statement, informing the Baron, in
a melancholy voice, that though the people would certainly obey his
honour's orders, yet there was no chance of their following the gear to
ony guid purpose, in respect there were only his honour's body servants
who had swords and pistols, and the depredators were twelve Highlanders,
completely armed after the manner of their country.--Having delivered
this doleful annunciation, he assumed a posture of silent dejection,
shaking his head slowly with the motion of a pendulum when it is ceasing
to vibrate, and then remained stationary, his body stooping at a more
acute angle than usual, and the latter part of his person projecting in
proportion.

The Baron, meanwhile, paced the room in silent indignation, and at
length fixing his eye upon an old portrait, whose person was clad in
armour, and whose features glared grimly out of a huge bush of hair,
part of which descended from his head to his shoulders, and part from
his chin and upper-lip to his breastplate,--'That gentleman, Captain
Waverley, my grandsire,' he said, 'with two hundred horse, whom he
levied within his own bounds, discomfited and put to the rout more
than five hundred of these Highland reivers, who have been ever LAPIS
OFFENSIONIS, ET PETRA SCANDALI, a stumbling-block and a rock of offence
to the Lowland vicinage--he discomfited them, I say, when they had the
temerity to descend to harry this country, in the time of the civil
dissensions, in the year of grace sixteen hundred forty and two. And
now, sir, I, his grandson, am thus used at such unworthy hands!'

Here there was an awful pause; after which all the company, as is usual
in cases of difficulty, began to give separate and inconsistent counsel.
Alexander ab Alexandro proposed they should send some one to compound
with the Caterans, who would readily, he said, give up their prey for a
dollar a head. The Bailie opined that this transaction would amount to
theft-boot, or composition of felony; and he recommended that some CANNY
HAND should be sent up to the glens to make the best bargain he could,
as it were for himself, so that the laird might not be seen in such a
transaction. Edward proposed to send off to the nearest garrison for a
party of soldiers and a magistrate's warrant; and Rose, as far as she
dared, endeavoured to insinuate the course of paying the arrears of
tribute money to Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr, who, they all knew,
could easily procure restoration of the cattle, if he were properly
propitiated.

None of these proposals met the Baron's approbation. The idea of
composition, direct or implied, was absolutely ignominious; that
of Waverley only showed that he did not understand the state of the
country, and of the political parties which divided it; and, standing
matters as they did with Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr, the Baron would
make no concession to him, were it, he said, to procure restitution IN
INTEGRUM of every stirk and stot that the chief, his forefathers, and
his clan, had stolen since the days of Malcolm Canmore.'

In fact, his voice was still for war, and he proposed to send expresses
to Balmawhapple, Killancureit, Tulliellum, and other lairds, who were
exposed to similar depredations, inviting them to join in the pursuit;
'and then, sir, shall these NEBULONES NEQUISSIMI, as Leslaeus calls
them, be brought to the fate of their predecessor Cacus,

     Elisos oculos, et siccum sanguine guttur.'

The Bailie, who by no means relished these warlike counsels, here pulled
forth an immense watch, of the colour, and nearly of the size, of a
pewter warming-pan, and observed it was now past noon, and that the
Caterans had been seen in the pass of Bally-Brough soon after sunrise;
so that before the allied forces could assemble, they and their prey
would be far beyond the reach of the most active pursuit, and sheltered
in those pathless deserts where it was neither advisable to follow, nor
indeed possible to trace them.

This proposition was undeniable. The council therefore broke up
without coming to any conclusion, as has occurred to councils of more
importance; only it was determined that the Bailie should send his own
three milk-cows down to the Mains for the use of the Baron's family,
and brew small ale, as a substitute for milk, in his own. To this
arrangement, which was suggested by Saunderson, the Bailie readily
assented, both from habitual deference to the family, and an internal
consciousness that his courtesy would, in some mode or other, be repaid
tenfold.

The Baron having also retired to give some necessary directions,
Waverley seized the opportunity to ask, whether this Fergus, with the
unpronounceable name, was the chief thief-taker of the district.

'Thief-taker!' answered Rose, laughing; 'he is a gentleman of great
honour and consequence; the chieftain of an independent branch of a
powerful Highland clan, and is much respected, both for his own power,
and that of his kith, kin, and allies.'

'And what has he to do with the thieves, then? is he a magistrate, or in
the commission of the peace?' asked Waverley.

The commission of war rather, if there be such a thing,' said Rose; 'for
he is a very unquiet neighbour to his un-friends, and keeps a greater
FOLLOWING on foot than many that have thrice his estates. As to his
connexion with the thieves, that I cannot well explain; but the boldest
of them will never steal a hoof from any one that pays blackmail to Vich
Ian Vohr.'

'And what is blackmail?'

'A sort of protection-money that Low-country gentlemen and heritors,
lying near the Highlands, pay to some Highland chief, that he may
neither do them harm himself, nor suffer it to be done to them by
others; and then, if your cattle are stolen, you have only to send him
word, and he will recover them; or it may be, he will drive away cows
from some distant place, where he has a quarrel, and give them to you to
make up your loss.'

'And is this sort of Highland Jonathan Wild admitted into society, and
called a gentleman?'

'So much so,' said Rose, 'that the quarrel between my father and Fergus
Mac-Ivor began at a county meeting, where he wanted to take precedence
of all the Lowland gentlemen then present, only my father would not
suffer it. And then he upbraided my father that he was under his banner,
and paid him tribute; and my father was in a towering passion, for
Bailie Macwheeble, who manages such things his own way, had contrived to
keep this blackmail a secret from him, and passed it in his account for
cess-money. And they would have fought; but Fergus Mac-Ivor said, very
gallantly, he would never raise his hand against a grey head that was
so much respected as my father's. Oh, I wish, I wish they had continued
friends!'

'And did you ever see this Mr. Mac-Ivor, if that be his name, Miss
Bradwardine?'

'No, that is not his name; and he would consider MASTER as a sort of
affront, only that you are an Englishman, and know no better. But the
Lowlanders call him, like other gentlemen, by the name of his estate,
Glennaquoich; and the Highlanders call him Vich Ian Vohr, that is, the
son of John the Great; and we upon the braes here call him by both names
indifferently.'

I am afraid I shall never bring my English tongue to call him by either
one or other.'

'But he is a very polite, handsome man,' continued Rose; 'and his sister
Flora is one of the most beautiful and accomplished young ladies in this
country: she was bred in a convent in France, and was a great friend
of mine before this unhappy dispute. Dear Captain Waverley, try your
influence with my father to make matters up. I am sure this is but the
beginning of our troubles; for Tully-Veolan has never been a safe or
quiet residence when we have been at feud with the Highlanders. When
I was a girl about ten, there was a skirmish fought between a party of
twenty of them, and my father and his servants, behind the Mains; and
the bullets broke several panes in the north windows, they were so near.
Three of the Highlanders were killed, and they brought them in, wrapped
in their plaids, and laid them on the stone floor of the hall; and
next morning, their wives and daughters came, clapping their hands, and
crying the coronach, and shrieking, and carried away the dead bodies,
with the pipes playing before them. I could not sleep for six weeks
without starting, and thinking I heard these terrible cries, and saw
the bodies lying on the steps, all stiff and swathed up in their bloody
tartans. But since that time there came a party from the garrison at
Stirling, with a warrant from the Lord Justice-Clerk, or some such
great man, and took away all our arms; and now, how are we to protect
ourselves if they come down in any strength?'

Waverley could not help starting at a story which bore so much
resemblance to one of his own day-dreams. Here was a girl scarce
seventeen, the gentlest of her sex, both in temper and appearance, who
had witnessed with her own eyes such a scene as he had used to conjure
up in his imagination, as only occurring in ancient times, and spoke of
it coolly, as one very likely to recur. He felt at once the impulse of
curiosity, and that slight sense of danger which only serves to heighten
its interest. He might have said with Malvolio, '"I do not now fool
myself, to let imagination jade me!" I am actually in the land of
military and romantic adventures, and it only remains to be seen what
will be my own share in them.'

The whole circumstances now detailed concerning the state of the
country, seemed equally novel and extraordinary. He had indeed often
heard of Highland thieves, but had no idea of the systematic mode in
which their depredations were conducted; and that the practice was
connived at, and even encouraged, by many of the Highland chieftains,
who not only found the creaghs, or forays, useful for the purpose of
training individuals of their clan to the practice of arms, but also
of maintaining a wholesome terror among their Lowland neighbours,
and levying, as we have seen, a tribute from them, under colour of
protection-money.

Bailie Macwheeble, who soon afterwards entered, expatiated still more at
length upon the same topic. This honest gentleman's conversation was so
formed upon his professional practice, that Davie Gellatley once said
his discourse was like 'a charge of horning.' He assured our hero, that
'from the maist ancient times of record, the lawless thieves, limmers,
and broken men of the Highlands, had been in fellowship together by
reason of their surnames, for the committing of divers thefts, reifs,
and herships upon the honest men of the Low Country, when they not only
intromitted with their whole goods and gear, corn, cattle, horse, nolt,
sheep, outsight and insight plenishing, at their wicked pleasure, but
moreover made prisoners, ransomed them, or concussed them into giving
borrows (pledges) to enter into captivity again: all which was directly
prohibited in divers parts of the Statute Book, both by the act one
thousand five hundred and sixty-seven, and various others; the whilk
statutes, with all that had followed and might follow thereupon, were
shamefully broken and vilipended by the said sornars, limmers, and
broken men, associated into fellowships, for the aforesaid purposes of
theft, stouthreef, fire-raising, murther, RAPTUS MULIERUM, or forcible
abduction of women, and such like as aforesaid.'

It seemed like a dream to Waverley that these deeds of violence should
be familiar to men's minds, and currently talked of, as falling within
the common order of things, and happening daily in the immediate
vicinity, without his having crossed the seas, and while he was yet in
the otherwise well-ordered island of Great Britain. [10]



CHAPTER XVI

AN UNEXPECTED ALLY APPEARS

The Baron returned at the dinner-hour, and had in a great measure
recovered his composure and good humour. He not only confirmed the
stories which Edward had heard from Rose and Bailie Macwheeble, but
added many anecdotes from his own experience, concerning the state of
the Highlands and their inhabitants, The chiefs he pronounced to be,
in general, gentlemen of great honour and high pedigree, whose word was
accounted as a law by all those of their own sept, or clan. 'It did not,
indeed,' he said, 'become them, as had occurred in late instances, to
propone their PROSAPIA, a lineage which rested for the most part on the
vain and fond rhymes of their Seannachies or Barahs, as aequiponderate
with the evidence of ancient charters and royal grants of antiquity,
conferred upon distinguished houses in the Low Country by divers
Scottish monarchs; nevertheless, such was their OUTRECUIDANCE and
presumption, as to undervalue those who possessed such evidents, as if
they held their lands in a sheep's skin.'

This, by the way, pretty well explained the cause of quarrel between
the Baron and his Highland ally. But he went on to state so many
curious particulars concerning the manners, customs, and habits of this
patriarchal race, that Edward's curiosity became highly interested, and
he inquired whether it was possible to make with safety an excursion
into the neighbouring Highlands, whose dusky barrier of mountains had
already excited his wish to penetrate beyond them. The Baron assured his
guest that nothing would be more easy, providing this quarrel were
first made up, since he could himself give him letters to many of the
distinguished chiefs, who would receive him with the utmost courtesy and
hospitality.

While they were on this topic, the door suddenly opened, and, ushered by
Saunders Saunderson, a Highlander, fully armed and equipped, entered the
apartment. Had it not been that Saunders acted the part of master of the
ceremonies to this martial apparition, without appearing to deviate from
his usual composure, and that neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Rose exhibited
any emotion, Edward would certainly have thought the intrusion hostile,
As it was, he started at the sight of what he had not yet happened to
see, a mountaineer in his full national costume. The individual Gael was
a stout, dark, young man, of low stature, the ample folds of whose plaid
added to the appearance of strength which his person exhibited. The
short kilt, or petticoat, showed his sinewy and clean-made limbs; the
goat-skin purse, flanked by the usual defences, a dirk and steel-wrought
pistol, hung before him; his bonnet had a short feather, which indicated
his claim to be treated as a Duinhe-wassel, or sort of gentleman; a
broadsword dangled by his side, a target hung upon his shoulder, and
a long Spanish fowling-piece occupied one of his hands. With the other
hand he pulled off his bonnet, and the Baron, who well knew their
customs, and the proper mode of addressing them, immediately said, with
an air of dignity, but without rising, and much, as Edward thought,
in the manner of a prince receiving an embassy, 'Welcome, Evan Dhu
Maccombich! what news from Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr?'

'Fergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr,' said the ambassador, in good English,
'greets you well, Baron of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and is sorry
there has been a thick cloud interposed between you and him, which has
kept you from seeing and considering the friendship and alliances that
have been between your houses and forebears of old; and he prays you
that the cloud may pass away, and that things may be as they have been
heretofore between the clan Ivor and the house of Bradwardine, when
there was an egg between them for a flint, and a knife for a sword. And
he expects you will also say, you are sorry for the cloud, and no man
shall hereafter ask whether it descended from the hill to the valley,
or rose from the valley to the hill; for they never struck with the
scabbard who did not receive with the sword; and woe to him who would
lose his friend for the stormy cloud of a spring morning!'

To this the Baron of Bradwardine answered, with suitable dignity, that
he knew the chief of clan Ivor to be a well-wisher to the King, and he
was sorry there should have been a cloud between him and any gentleman
of such sound principles, 'for when folks are banding together, feeble
is he who hath no brother.'

This appearing perfectly satisfactory, that the peace between these
august persons might be duly solemnized, the Baron ordered a stoup of
usquebaugh, and, filling a glass, drank to the health and prosperity of
Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich; upon which the Celtic ambassador, to requite
his politeness, turned down a mighty bumper of the same generous liquor,
seasoned with his good wishes to the house of Bradwardine.

Having thus ratified the preliminaries of the general treaty of
pacification, the envoy retired to adjust with Mr. Macwheeble some
subordinate articles with which it was not thought necessary to trouble
the Baron. These probably referred to the discontinuance of the subsidy,
and apparently the Bailie found means to satisfy their ally, without
suffering his master to suppose that his dignity was compromised. At
least, it is certain, that after the plenipotentiaries had drunk a
bottle of brandy in single drams, which seemed to have no more effect
upon such seasoned vessels, than if it had been poured upon the two
bears at the top of the avenue, Evan Dhu Maccombich, having possessed
himself of all the information which he could procure respecting the
robbery of the preceding night, declared his intention to set off
immediately in pursuit of the cattle, which he pronounced to be 'not
far off;--they have broken the bone,' he observed, 'but they have had no
time to suck the marrow.'

Our hero, who had attended Evan Dhu during his perquisitions, was much
struck with the ingenuity which he displayed in collecting information,
and the precise and pointed conclusions which he drew from it. Evan Dhu,
on his part, was obviously flattered with the attention of Waverley, the
interest he seemed to take in his inquiries, and his curiosity about the
customs and scenery of the Highlands. Without much ceremony he invited
Edward to accompany him on a short walk of ten or fifteen miles into the
mountains, and see the place where the cattle were conveyed to; adding,
'If it be as I suppose, you never saw such a place in your life, nor
ever will, unless you go with me, or the like of me.'

Our hero, feeling his curiosity considerably excited by the idea of
visiting the den of a Highland Cacus, took, however, the precaution
to inquire if his guide might be trusted. He was assured, that the
invitation would on no account have been given had there been the least
danger, and that all he had to apprehend was a little fatigue; and
as Evan proposed he should pass a day at his Chieftain's house in
returning, where he would be sure of good accommodation and an excellent
welcome, there seemed nothing very formidable in the task he undertook.
Rose, indeed, turned pale when she heard of it; but her father, who
loved the spirited curiosity of his young friend, did not attempt
to damp it by an alarm of danger which really did not exist; and a
knapsack, with a few necessaries, being bound on the shoulders of a sort
of deputy gamekeeper, our hero set forth with a fowling-piece in his
hand, accompanied by his new friend Evan Dhu, and, followed by the
gamekeeper aforesaid, and by two wild Highlanders, the attendants of
Evan, one of whom had upon his shoulder a hatchet at the end of a pole,
called a Lochaber-axe, [The Town-guard of Edinburgh were, till a late
period, armed with this weapon when on their police duty. There was
a hook at the back of the axe, which the ancient Highlanders used to
assist them to climb over walls, fixing the hook upon it, and raising
themselves by the handle. The axe, which was also much used by the
natives of Ireland, is supposed to have been introduced into both
countries from Scandinavia.] and the other a long ducking-gun. Evan,
upon Edward's inquiry, gave him to understand that this martial escort
was by no means necessary as a guard, but merely, as he said, drawing
up and adjusting his plaid with an air of dignity, that he might appear
decently at Tully-Veolan, and as Vich Ian Vohr's foster-brother ought to
do. 'Ah!' said he, 'if you Saxon Duinhe-wassel (English gentlemen) saw
but the Chief with his tail on!'

'With his tail on!' echoed Edward, in some surprise.

'Yes--that is, with all his usual followers, when he visits those of the
same rank. There is,' he continued, stopping and drawing himself proudly
up, while he counted upon his fingers the several officers of his
chief's retinue--'there is his HANCH-MAN, or right-hand man; then his
BARDH, or poet; then his BLADIER, or orator, to make harangues to the
great folks whom he visits; then his GILLY-MORE, or armour-bearer, to
carry his sword and target, and his gun; then his GILLY CASFLIUCH,
who carries him on his back through the sikes and brooks; then his
GILLY-COMSTRIAN, to lead his horse by the bridle in steep and difficult
paths; then his GILLY-TRUSHHARNISH, to carry his knapsack; and the piper
and the piper's man, and it may be a dozen young lads besides, that have
no business, but are just boys of the belt, to follow the laird, and do
his honour's bidding.'

And does your Chief regularly maintain all these men?' demanded
Waverley.

'All these!' replied Evan; 'aye, and many a fair head beside, that would
not ken where to lay itself, but for the mickle barn at Glennaquoich.'

With similar tales of the grandeur of the Chief in peace and war,
Evan Dhu beguiled the way till they approached more closely those huge
mountains which Edward had hitherto only seen at a distance. It was
towards evening as they entered one of the tremendous passes which
afford communication between the High and Low Country; the path, which
was extremely steep and rugged, winded up a chasm between two tremendous
rocks, following the passage which a foaming stream, that brawled far
below, appeared to have worn for itself in the course of ages. A few
slanting beams of the sun, which was now setting, reached the water in
its darksome bed, and showed it partially, chafed by a hundred rocks,
and broken by a hundred falls. The descent from the path to the stream
was a mere precipice, with here and there a projecting fragment of
granite, or a scathed tree, which had warped its twisted roots into the
fissures of the rock. On the right hand, the mountain rose above the
path with almost equal inaccessibility; but the hill on the opposite
side displayed a shroud of copsewood, with which some pines were
intermingled.

'This,' said Evan, 'is the pass of Bally-Brough, which was kept in
former times by ten of the clan Donnochie against a hundred of the Low
Country carles. The graves of the slain are still to be seen in that
little corri, or bottom, on the opposite side of the burn--if your eyes
are good, you may see the green specks among the heather.--See, there
is an earn, which you Southrons call an eagle--you have no such birds
as that in England--he is going to fetch his supper from the Laird of
Bradwardine's braes, but I'll send a slug after him.'

He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the superb monarch of the
feathered tribes, who, without noticing the attempt to annoy him,
continued his majestic flight to the southward. A thousand birds of
prey, hawks, kites, carrion-crows, and ravens, disturbed from the
lodgings which they had just taken up for the evening, rose at the
report of the gun, and mingled their hoarse and discordant notes with
the echoes which replied to it, and with the roar of the mountain
cataracts. Evan, a little disconcerted at having missed his mark, when
he meant to have displayed peculiar dexterity, covered his confusion by
whistling part of a pibroch as he reloaded his piece, and proceeded in
silence up the pass.

It issued in a narrow glen, between two mountains, both very lofty, and
covered with heath. The brook continued to be their companion, and they
advanced up its mazes, crossing them now and then, on which occasions
Even Dhu uniformly offered the assistance of his attendants to carry
over Edward; but our hero, who had been always a tolerable pedestrian,
declined the accommodation, and obviously rose in his guide's opinion by
showing that he did not fear wetting his feet. Indeed he was anxious,
so far as he could without affectation, to remove the opinion which
Evan seemed to entertain of the effeminacy of the Lowlanders, and
particularly of the English.

Through the gorge of this glen they found access to a black bog, of
tremendous extent, full of large pit-holes, which they traversed
with great difficulty and some danger, by tracks which no one but a
Highlander could have followed. The path itself, or rather the portion
of more solid ground on which the travellers half walked, half waded,
was rough, broken, and in many places quaggy and unsound. Sometimes the
ground was so completely unsafe, that it was necessary to spring from
one hillock to another, the space between being incapable of bearing
the human weight. This was an easy matter to the Highlanders, who
wore thin-soled brogues fit for the purpose, and moved with a peculiar
springing step; but Edward began to find the exercise, to which he was
unaccustomed, more fatiguing than he expected. The lingering twilight
served to show them through this Serbonian bog, but deserted them almost
totally at the bottom of a steep and very stony hill, which it was
the travellers' next toilsome task to ascend. The night, however,
was pleasant, and not dark; and Waverley, calling up mental energy to
support personal fatigue, held on his march gallantly, though envying in
his heart his Highland attendants, who continued, without a symptom
of abated vigour, the rapid and swinging pace, or rather trot, which,
according to his computation, had already brought them fifteen miles
upon their journey.

After crossing this mountain, and descending on the other side towards a
thick wood, Evan Dhu held some conference with his Highland attendants,
in consequence of which Edward's baggage was shifted from the shoulders
of the gamekeeper to those of one of the gillies, and the former was
sent off with the other mountaineer in a direction different from
that of the three remaining travellers. On asking the meaning of this
separation, Waverley was told that the Lowlander must go to a hamlet
about three miles off for the night; for unless it was some very
particular friend, Donald Bean Lean, the worthy person whom they
supposed to be possessed of the cattle, did not much approve of
strangers approaching his retreat. This seemed reasonable, and silenced
a qualm of suspicion which came across Edward's mind, when he saw
himself, at such a place and such an hour, deprived of his only Lowland
companion. And Evan immediately afterwards added, 'that indeed he
himself had better get forward, and announce their approach to Donald
Bean Lean, as the arrival of a SIDIER ROY (red soldier) might otherwise
be a disagreeable surprise.' And without waiting for an answer, in
jockey phrase, he trotted out, and putting himself to a very round pace,
was out of sight in an instant.

Waverley was now left to his own meditations, for his attendant with the
battle-axe spoke very little English. They were traversing a thick, and,
as it seemed, an endless wood of pines, and consequently the path was
altogether indiscernible in the murky darkness which surrounded them.
The Highlander, however, seemed to trace it by instinct, without the
hesitation of a moment, and Edward followed his footsteps as close as he
could.

After journeying a considerable time in silence, he could not help
asking, 'Was it far to the end of their journey?'

'Ta cove was tree, four mile; but as Duinhe-wassel was a wee taiglit,
Donald could, tat is, might--would--should send ta curragh.'

This conveyed no information. The CURRAGH which was promised might be a
man, a horse, a cart, or chaise; and no more could be got from the man
with the battle-axe, but a repetition of 'Aich ay! ta curragh.'

But in a short time Edward began to conceive his meaning, when, issuing
from the wood, he found himself on the banks of a large river or lake,
where his conductor gave him to understand they must sit down for a
little while. The moon, which now began to rise, showed obscurely
the expanse of water which spread before them, and the shapeless and
indistinct forms of mountains with which it seemed to be surrounded. The
cool and yet mild air of the summer night refreshed Waverley after
his rapid and toilsome walk; and the perfume which it wafted from the
birch-trees, bathed in the evening dew, was exquisitely fragrant. [It is
not the weeping birch, the most common species in the Highlands, but the
woolly-leaved Lowland birch, that is distinguished by this fragrance.]

He had now time to give himself up to the full romance of his situation.
Here he saw on the banks of an unknown lake, under the guidance of a
wild native, whose language was unknown to him, on a visit to the den of
some renowned outlaw, a second Robin Hood, perhaps, or Adam o' Gordon,
and that at deep midnight, through scenes of difficulty and toil,
separated from his attendant, left by his guide.--What a variety of
incidents for the exercise of a romantic imagination, and all enhanced
by the solemn feeling of uncertainty, at least, if not of danger! The
only circumstance which assorted ill with the rest, was the cause of his
journey--the Baron's milk-cows! This degrading incident he kept in the
background.

While wrapped in these dreams of imagination, his companion gently
touched him, and pointing in a direction nearly straight across the
lake, said 'Yon's ta cove.' A small point of light was seen to twinkle
in the direction in which he pointed, and gradually increasing in
size and lustre, seemed to flicker like a meteor upon the verge of the
horizon. While Edward watched this phenomenon, the distant dash of
oars was heard. The measured sound approached near and more near, and
presently a loud whistle was heard in the same direction. His friend
with the battle-axe immediately whistled clear and shrill, in reply to
the signal, and a boat, manned with four or five Highlanders, pushed for
a little inlet, near which Edward was sitting. He advanced to meet
them with his attendant, was immediately assisted into the boat by the
officious attention of two stout mountaineers, and had no sooner seated
himself than they resumed their oars, and began to row across the lake
with great rapidity.



CHAPTER XVII

THE HOLD OF A HIGHLAND ROBBER

The party preserved silence, interrupted only by the monotonous and
murmured chant of a Gaelic song, sung in a kind of low recitative by
the steersman, and by the dash of the oars, which the notes seemed to
regulate, as they dipped to them in cadence. The light, which they now
approached more nearly, assumed a broader, redder, and more irregular
splendour. It appeared plainly to be a large fire, but whether kindled
upon an island or the main land, Edward could not determine. As he saw
it, the red glaring orb seemed to rest on the very surface of the lake
itself, and resembled the fiery vehicle in which the Evil Genius of an
Oriental tale traverses land and sea. They approached nearer, and the
light of the fire sufficed to show that it was kindled at the bottom
of a huge dark crag or rock, rising abruptly from the very edge of
the water; its front changed by the reflection to dusky red, formed a
strange and even awful contrast to the banks around, which were from
time to time faintly and partially illuminated by pallid moonlight.

The boat now neared the shore, and Edward could discover that this large
fire, amply supplied with branches of pine-wood by two figures, who, in
the red reflection of its light, appeared like demons, was kindled in
the jaws of a lofty cavern, into which an inlet from the lake seemed to
advance; and he conjectured, which was indeed true, that the fire had
been lighted as a beacon to the boatmen on their return. They rowed
right for the mouth of the cave, and then, shipping their oars,
permitted the boat to enter in obedience to the impulse which it had
received.

The skiff passed the little point or platform of rock on which the fire
was blazing, and running about two boats' length farther, stopped where
the cavern (for it was already arched overhead) ascended from the water
by five or six broad ledges of rocks, so easy and regular that they
might be termed natural steps. At this moment a quantity of water was
suddenly flung upon the fire, which sank with a hissing noise, and with
it disappeared the light it had hitherto afforded. Four or five active
arms lifted Waverley out of the boat, placed him on his feet, and
almost carried him into the recesses of the cave. He made a few paces in
darkness, guided in this manner; and advancing towards a hum of voices,
which seemed to sound from the centre of the rock, at an acute turn
Donald Bean Lean and his whole establishment were before his eyes.

The interior of the cave, which here rose very high, was illuminated by
torches made of pine-tree, which emitted a bright and bickering light,
attended by a strong though not unpleasant odour. Their light was
assisted by the red glare of a large charcoal fire, round which were
seated five or six armed Highlanders, while others were indistinctly
seen couched on their plaids, in the more remote recesses of the cavern.
In one large aperture, which the robber facetiously called his spence
(or pantry), there hung by the heels the carcasses of a sheep, or
ewe, and two cows lately slaughtered. The principal inhabitant of this
singular mansion, attended by Evan Dhu as master of the ceremonies, came
forward to meet his guest, totally different in appearance and manner
from what his imagination had anticipated. The profession which he
followed--the wilderness in which he dwelt--the wild warrior-forms
that surrounded him, were all calculated to inspire terror. From such
accompaniments, Waverley prepared himself to meet a stern, gigantic,
ferocious figure, such as Salvator would have chosen to be the central
object of a group of banditti. [11]

Donald Bean Lean was the very reverse of all these. He was thin in
person and low in stature, with light sandy-coloured hair, and small
pale features, from which he derived his agnomen of BEAN, or white; and
although his form was light, well-proportioned, and active, he appeared,
on the whole, rather a diminutive and insignificant figure. He had
served in some inferior capacity in the French army, and in order to
receive his English visitor in great form, and probably meaning, in his
way, to pay him a compliment, he had laid aside the Highland dress for
the time, to put on an old blue and red uniform, and a feathered hat,
in which he was far from showing to advantage, and indeed looked so
incongruous, compared with all around him, that Waverley would have been
tempted to laugh, had laughter been either civil or safe. The robber
received Captain Waverley with a profusion of French politeness and
Scottish hospitality, seemed perfectly to know his name and connexions,
and to be particularly acquainted with his uncle's political principles.
On these he bestowed great applause, to which Waverley judged it prudent
to make a very general reply.

Being placed at a convenient distance from the charcoal fire, the heat
of which the season rendered oppressive, a strapping Highland damsel
placed before Waverley, Evan, and Donald Bean, three cogues, or wooden
vessels, composed of staves and hoops, containing EANARUICH, [This was
the regale presented by Rob Roy to the Laird of Tullibody.] a sort of
strong soup, made out of a particular part of the inside of the beeves.
After this refreshment, which, though coarse, fatigue and hunger
rendered palatable, steaks, roasted on the coals, were supplied in
liberal abundance, and disappeared before Even Dhu and their host with
a promptitude that seemed like magic, and astonished Waverley, who was
much puzzled to reconcile their voracity with what he had heard of the
abstemiousness of the Highlanders. He was ignorant that this abstinence
was with the lower ranks wholly compulsory, and that, like some animals
of prey, those who practise it were usually gifted with the power of
indemnifying themselves to good purpose, when chance threw plenty in
their way. The whisky came forth in abundance to crown the cheer. The
Highlanders drank it copiously and undiluted; but Edward, having mixed
a little with water, did not find it so palatable as to invite him to
repeat the draught. Their host bewailed himself exceedingly that he
could offer him no wine: 'Had he but known four-and-twenty hours before,
he would have had some, had it been within the circle of forty miles
round him. But no gentleman could do more to show his sense of the
honour of a visit from another, than to offer him the best cheer his
house afforded. Where there are no bushes there can be no nuts, and the
way of those you live with is that you must follow.'

He went on regretting to Evan Dhu the death of an aged man, Donnacha an
Amrigh, or Duncan with the Cap, 'a gifted seer,' who foretold, through
the second sight, visitors of every description who haunted their
dwelling, whether as friends or foes.

'Is not his son Malcolm TAISHATR?' (a second-sighted person), asked
Evan.

'Nothing equal to his father,' replied Donald Bean. He told us the other
day we were to see a great gentleman riding on a horse, and there came
nobody that whole day but Shemus Beg, the blind harper, with his dog.
Another time he advertised us of a wedding, and behold it proved a
funeral; and on the creagh, when he foretold to us we should bring home
a hundred head of horned cattle, we gripped nothing but a fat bailie of
Perth.'

From this discourse he passed to the political and military state of the
country; and Waverley was astonished, and even alarmed, to find a person
of this description so accurately acquainted with the strength of the
various garrisons and regiments quartered north of the Tay. He even
mentioned the exact number of recruits who had joined Waverley's troop
from his uncle's estate, and observed they were pretty men, meaning, not
handsome, but stout warlike fellows. He put Waverley in mind of one or
two minute circumstances which had happened at a general review of the
regiment, which satisfied him that the robber had been an eye-witness of
it; and Evan Dhu having by this time retired from the conversation,
and wrapped himself up in his plaid to take some repose, Donald asked
Edward, in a very significant manner, whether he had nothing particular
to say to him.

Waverley, surprised and somewhat startled at this question from such a
character, answered he had no motive in visiting him but curiosity to
see his extraordinary place of residence. Donald Bean Lean looked him
steadily in the face for an instant, and then said, with a significant
nod, 'You might as well have confided in me; I am as much worthy of
trust as either the Baron of Bradwardine, or Vich Ian Vohr:--but you are
equally welcome to my house.'

Waverley felt an involuntary shudder creep over him at the mysterious
language held by this outlawed and lawless bandit, which, in despite of
his attempts to master it, deprived him of the proper to ask the meaning
of his insinuations. A heath pallet, with the flowers stuck uppermost,
had been prepared for him in a recess of the cave, and here, covered
with such spare plaids as could be mustered, he lay for some time
matching the motions of the other inhabitants of the cavern. Small
parties of two or three entered or left the place without any other
ceremony than a few words in Gaelic to the principal outlaw, and, when
he fell asleep, to a tall Highlander who acted as his lieutenant, and
seemed to keep watch during his repose. Those who entered, seemed to
have returned from some excursion, of which they reported the success,
and went without further ceremony to the larder, where, cutting with
their dirks their rations from the carcasses which were there suspended,
they proceeded to broil and eat them at their own pleasure and leisure.
The liquor was under strict regulation, being served out either
by Donald himself, his lieutenant, or the strapping Highland girl
aforesaid, who was the only female that appeared. The allowance of
whisky, however, would have appeared prodigal to any but Highlanders,
who, living entirely in the open air, and in a very moist climate, can
consume great quantities of ardent spirits without the usual baneful
effects either upon the brain or constitution.

At length the fluctuating groups began to swim before the eyes of our
hero as they gradually closed; nor did he re-open them till the morning
sun was high on the lake without, though there was but a faint and
glimmering twilight in the recesses of Uaimh an Ri, or the King's
Cavern, as the abode of Donald Bean Lean was proudly denominated.



CHAPTER XVIII

WAVERLEY PROCEEDS ON HIS JOURNEY

Then Edward had collected his scattered recollection, he was surprised
to observe the cavern totally deserted. Having arisen and put his dress
in some order, he looked more accurately round him; but all was still
solitary. If it had not been for the decayed brands of the fire, now
sunk into grey ashes, and the remnants of the festival, consisting
of bones half burnt and half gnawed, and an empty keg or two, there
remained no traces of Donald and his band. When Waverley sallied forth
to the entrance of the cave, he perceived that the point of rock, on
which remained the marks of last night's beacon, was accessible by
a small path, either natural, or roughly hewn in the rock, along the
little inlet of water which ran a few yards up into the cavern, where,
as in a wet-dock, the skiff which brought him there the night before
was still lying moored. When he reached the small projecting platform
on which the beacon had been established, he would have believed his
further progress by land impossible, only that it was scarce probable
but that the inhabitants of the cavern had some mode of issuing from it
otherwise than by the lake. Accordingly, he soon observed three or four
shelving steps, or ledges of rock, at the very extremity of the little
platform; and, making use of them as a staircase, he clambered by their
means around the projecting shoulder of the crag on which the cavern
opened, and, descending with some difficulty on the other side, he
gained the wild and precipitous shores of a Highland loch, about four
miles in length, and a mile and a half across, surrounded by heathy
and savage mountains, on the crests of which the morning mist was still
sleeping.

Looking back to the place from which he came, he could not help admiring
the address which had adopted a retreat of such seclusion and
secrecy. The rock, round the shoulder of which he had turned by a few
imperceptible notches, that barely afforded place for the foot, seemed,
in looking back upon it, a huge precipice, which barred all further
passage by the shores of the lake in that direction. There could be
no possibility, the breadth of the lake considered, of descrying the
entrance of the narrow and low-browed cave from the other side; so
that, unless the retreat had been sought for with boats, or disclosed
by treachery, it might be a safe and secret residence to its garrison
as long as they were supplied with provisions. Having satisfied his
curiosity in these particulars, Waverley looked around for Evan Dhu and
his attendants, who, he rightly judged, would be at no great distance,
whatever might have become of Donald Bean Lean and his party, whose
mode of life was, of course, liable to sudden migrations of abode.
Accordingly, at the distance of about half a mile, he beheld a
Highlander (Evan apparently) angling in the lake, with another attending
him, whom, from the weapon which he shouldered, he recognized for his
friend with the battle-axe.

Much nearer to the mouth of the cave, he heard the notes of a lively
Gaelic song, guided by which, in a sunny recess, shaded by a glittering
birch-tree, and carpeted with a bank of firm white sand, he found the
damsel of the cavern, whose lay had already reached him, busy, to the
best of her power, in arranging to advantage a morning repast of milk,
eggs, barley-bread, fresh butter, and honeycomb. The poor girl had
already made a circuit of four miles that morning in search of the eggs,
of the meal which baked her cakes, and of the other materials of the
breakfast, being all delicacies which she had to beg or borrow from
distant cottagers. The followers of Donald Bean Lean used little food
except the flesh of the animals which they drove away from the Lowlands;
bread itself was a delicacy seldom thought of, because hard to be
obtained, and all the domestic accommodations of milk, poultry, butter,
&c., were out of the question in this Scythian camp. Yet it must not
be omitted, that, although Alice had occupied a part of the morning in
providing those accommodations for her guest which the cavern did not
afford, she had secured time also to arrange her own person in her best
trim. Her finery was very simple. A short russet-coloured jacket, and
a petticoat, of scanty longitude, was her whole dress; but these were
clean, and neatly arranged. A piece of scarlet embroidered cloth, called
the snood, confined her hair, which fell over it in a profusion of rich
dark curls. The scarlet plaid, which formed part of her dress, was laid
aside, that it might not impede her activity in attending the stranger.
I should forget Alice's proudest ornament, were I to omit mentioning a
pair of gold ear-rings, and a golden rosary, which her father (for
she was the daughter of Donald Bean Lean) had brought from France, the
plunder, probably, of some battle or storm.

Her form, though rather large for her years, was very well proportioned,
and her demeanour had a natural and rustic grace, with nothing of the
sheepishness of an ordinary peasant. The smiles, displaying a row of
teeth of exquisite whiteness, and the laughing eyes, with which, in dumb
show, she gave Waverley that morning greeting which she wanted English
words to express, might have been interpreted by a coxcomb, or perhaps
by a young soldier, who, without being such, was conscious of a handsome
person, as meant to convey more than the courtesy of an hostess. Nor do
I take it upon me to say, that the little wild mountaineer would
have welcomed any staid old gentleman advanced in life, the Baron of
Bradwardine, for example, with the cheerful pains which she bestowed
upon Edward's accommodation. She seemed eager to place him by the meal
which she had so sedulously arranged, and to which she now added a few
bunches of cranberries, gathered in an adjacent morass. Having had the
satisfaction of seeing him seated at his breakfast, she placed herself
demurely upon a stone at a few yards' distance, and appeared to watch
with great complacency for some opportunity of serving him.

Evan and his attendant now returned slowly along the beach, the latter
bearing a large salmon-trout, the produce of the morning's sport,
together with the angling-rod, while Evan strolled forward, with
an easy, self-satisfied, and important gait, towards the spot where
Waverley was so agreeably employed at the breakfast-table. After morning
greetings had passed on both sides, and Evan, looking at Waverley, had
said something in Gaelic to Alice, which made her laugh, yet colour up
to her eyes, through a complexion well embrowned by sun and wind, Evan
intimated his commands that the fish should be prepared for breakfast.
A spark from the lock of his pistol produced a light, and a few withered
fir branches were quickly in flame, and as speedily reduced to hot
embers, on which the trout was broiled in large slices. To crown the
repast, Evan produced from the pocket of his short jerkin, a large
scallop shell, and from under the folds of his plaid, a ram's horn full
of whisky. Of this he took a copious dram, observing he had already
taken his MORNING with Donald Bean Lean, before his departure; he
offered the same cordial to Alice and to Edward, which they both
declined. With the bounteous air of a lord, Evan then proffered the
scallop to Dugald Mahony, his attendant, who, without waiting to be
asked a second time, drank it off with great gusto. Evan then prepared
to move towards the boat, inviting Waverley to attend him. Meanwhile,
Alice had made up in a small basket what she thought worth removing, and
hinging her plaid around her, she advanced up to Edward, and, with the
utmost simplicity, taking hold of his hand, offered her cheek to his
salute, dropping, at the same time, her little curtsy. Evan, who was
esteemed a wag among the mountain fair, advanced, as if to secure a
similar favour; but Alice, snatching up her basket, escaped up the
rocky bank as fleetly as a roe, and, turning round and laughing, called
something out to him in Gaelic, which he answered in the same tone and
language; then, waving her hand to Edward, she resumed her road, and
was soon lost among the thickets, though they continued for some time to
hear her lively carol, as she proceeded gaily on her solitary journey.

They now again entered the gorge of the cavern, and stepping into the
boat, the Highlander pushed off, and, taking advantage of the morning
breeze, hoisted a clumsy sort of sail, while Evan assumed the helm,
directing their course, as it appeared to Waverley, rather higher up the
lake than towards the place of his embarkation on the preceding night.
As they glided along the silver mirror, Evan opened the conversation
with a panegyric upon Alice, who, he said, was both CANNY and FENDY;
and was, to the boot of all that, the best dancer of a strathspey in
the whole strath. Edward assented to her praises so far as he understood
them, yet could not help regretting that she was condemned to such a
perilous and dismal life.

'Oich! for that,' said Evan, 'there is nothing in Perthshire that she
need want, if she ask her father to fetch it, unless it be too hot or
too heavy.

'But to be the daughter of a cattle-stealer--a common thief!'

'Common thief!--no such thing: Donald Bean Lean never LIFTED less than a
drove in his life.'

'Do you call him an uncommon thief, then?'

'No--he that steals a cow from a poor widow, or a stirk from a
cottar, is a thief; he that lifts a drove from a Sassenach laird, is a
gentleman-drover. And, besides, to take a tree from the forest, a salmon
from the river, a deer from the hill, or a cow from a Lowland strath, is
what no Highlander need ever think shame upon.'

'But what can this end in, were he taken in such an appropriation?'

'To be sure he would DIE FOR THE LAW, as many a pretty man has done
before him.'

'Die for the law!'

'Aye; that is, with the law, or by the law; be strapped up on the
KIND gallows of Crieff, [12] where his father died, and his
goodsire died, and where I hope he'll live to die himself, if he's not
shot, or slashed, in a creagh.'

'You HOPE such a death for your friend, Evan!'

'And that do I e'en; would you have me wish him to die on a bundle of
wet straw in yon den of his, like a mangy tyke?'

'But what becomes of Alice, then?'

'Troth, if such an accident were to happen, as her father would not need
her help ony langer, I ken naught to hinder me to marry her mysell.'

'Gallantly resolved!' said Edward;--'but, in the meanwhile, Evan, what
has your father-in-law (that shall be, if he have the good fortune to be
hanged) done with the Baron's cattle?'

'Oich,' answered Evan, 'they were all trudging before your lad and Allan
Kennedy before the sun blinked ower Ben-Lawers this morning; and they'll
be in the pass of Bally-Brough by this time, in their way back to the
parks of Tully-Veolan, all but two, that were unhappily slaughtered
before I got last night to Uaimh an Ri.'

'And where are we going, Evan, if I may be so bold as to ask?' said
Waverley.

'Where would you be ganging, but to the laird's ain house of
Glennaquoich? Ye would not think to be in his country, without ganging
to see him? It would be as much as a man's life's worth,'

'And are we far from Glennaquoich?'

But five bits of miles; and Vich Ian Vohr will meet us.'

In about half an hour they reached the upper end of the lake, where,
after landing Waverley, the two Highlanders drew the boat into a little
creek among thick flags and reeds, where it lay perfectly concealed.
The oars they put in another place of concealment, both for the use of
Donald Bean Lean probably, when his occasions should next bring him to
that place.

The travellers followed for some time a delightful opening into the
hills, down which a little brook found its way to the lake. When they
had pursued their walk a short distance, Waverley renewed his questions
about their host of the cavern.

'Does he always reside in that cave?'

'Out, no! it's past the skill of man to tell where he's to be found
at a' times; there's not a dern nook, or cove, or corri, in the whole
country, that he's not acquainted with.'

'And do others beside your master shelter him?'

'My master?--My master is in heaven,' answered Evan haughtily; and then
immediately assuming his usual civility of manner--'But you mean my
Chief;--no, he does not shelter Donald Bean Lean, nor any that are like
him; he only allows him (with a smile) wood and water.'

'No great boon, I should think, Evan, when both seem to be very plenty.'

'Ah! but ye dinna see through it. When I say wood and water, I mean the
loch and the land; and I fancy Donald would be put till't if the laird
were to look for him wi' threescore men in the wood of Kailychat yonder;
and if our boats, with a score or twa mair, were to come down the loch
to Uaimh an Ri, headed by mysell, or ony other pretty man.'

'But suppose a strong party came against him from the Low Country, would
not your Chief defend him?'

'Na, he would not ware the spark of a flint for him--if they came with
the law.'

'And what must Donald do, then?'

'He behoved to rid this country of himsell, and fall back, it may be,
over the mount upon Letter Scriven.'

'And if he were pursued to that place?'

'I'se warrant he would go to his cousin's at Rannoch.'

'Well, but if they followed him to Rannoch?'

'That,' quoth Evan, 'is beyond all belief; and, indeed, to tell you the
truth, there durst not a Lowlander in all Scotland follow the fray a
gun-shot beyond Bally-Brough, unless he had the help of the SIDIER DHU.'

'Whom do you call so?'

'The SIDIER DHU? the black soldier; that is what they call the
independent companies that were raised to keep peace and law in the
Highlands. Vich Ian Vohr commanded one of them for five years, and I was
sergeant myself, I shall warrant ye. They call them SIDIER DHU, because
they wear the tartans,--as they call your men, King George's men, SIDIER
ROY, or red soldiers.'

'Well, but when you were in King George's pay, Evan, you were surely
King George's soldiers?'

'Troth, and you must ask Vich Ian Vohr about that; for we are for his
king, and care not much which o' them it is. At any rate, nobody can
say we are King George's men now, when we have not seen his pay this
twelvemonth.'

This last argument admitted of no reply, nor did Edward attempt any;
he rather chose to bring back the discourse to Donald Bean Lean. 'Does
Donald confine himself to cattle, or does he LIFT, as you call it,
anything else that comes in his way?'

'Troth, he's nae nice body, and he'll just tak ony thing, but most
readily cattle, horse, or live Christians; for sheep are slow of travel,
and inside plenishing is cumbrous to carry, and not easy to put away for
siller in this country.'

'But does he carry off men and women?'

'Out, aye. Did not ye hear him speak o' the Perth bailie? It cost that
body five hundred merks ere he got to the south of Bally-Brough.--And
ance Donald played a pretty sport. [13] There was to be a
blythe bridal between the Lady Cramfeezer, in the howe o' the Mearns
(she was the auld laird's widow, and no sae young as she had been
hersell), and young Gilliewhackit, who had spent his heirship and
movables, like a gentleman, at cock-matches, bull-baitings, horse-races,
and the like. Now, Donald Bean Lean, being aware that the bridegroom
was in request, and wanting to cleik the cunzie (that is, to hook the
siller), he cannily carried off Gilliewhackit ae night when he was
riding DOVERING hame (wi' the malt rather abune the meal), and with the
help of his gillies he gat him into the hills with the speed of light,
and the first place he wakened in was the cove of Uaimh an Ri. So there
was old to do about ransoming the bridegroom; for Donald would not lower
a farthing of a thousand punds'--

The devil!'

'Punds Scottish, ya shall understand. And the lady had not the siller
if she had pawned her gown; and they applied to the governor o' Stirling
castle, and to the major o' the Black Watch; and the governor said, it
was ower far to the northward, and out of his district; and the major
said, his men were gane hame to the shearing, and he would not call
them out before the victual was got in for all the Cramfeezers in
Christendom, let alane the Mearns, for that it would prejudice the
country. And in the meanwhile ye'll no hinder Gilliewhackit to take the
small-pox. There was not the doctor in Perth or Stirling would look near
the poor lad; and I cannot blame them, for Donald had been misguggled by
ane of these doctors about Paris, and he swore he would fling the first
into the loch that he catched beyond the Pass. However, some cailliachs
(that is, old women) that were about Donald's hand, nursed Gilliewhackit
sae weel, that between the free open air in the cove and the fresh whey,
deil an' he did not recover maybe as weel as if he had been closed in a
glazed chamber and a bed with curtains, and fed with red wine and white
meat. And Donald was sae vexed about it, that when he was stout and
weel, he even sent him free home, and said he would be pleased with
onything they would like to gie him for the plague and trouble which
he had about Gilliewhackit to an unkenn'd degree. And I cannot tell you
precisely how they sorted; but they agreed sae right that Donald was
invited to dance at the wedding in his Highland trews, and they said
that there was never sae meikle siller clinked in his purse either
before or since. And to the boot of all that, Gilliewhackit said, that,
be the evidence what it liked, if he had the luck to be on Donald's
inquest, he would bring him in guilty of nothing whatever, unless it
were wilful arson, or murder under trust.'

With such bald and disjointed chat Evan went on, illustrating the
existing state of the Highlands, more perhaps to the amusement of
Waverley than that of our readers. At length, after having marched over
bank and brae, moss and heather, Edward, though not unacquainted with
the Scottish liberality in computing distance, began to think that
Evan's five miles were nearly doubled. His observation on the large
measure which the Scottish allowed of their land, in comparison to the
computation of their money, was readily answered by Evan, with the old
jest, The deil take them wha have the least pint stoup.' ['The Scotch
are liberal in computing their land and liquor; the Scottish pint
corresponds to two English quarts. As for their coin, every one knows
the couplet--

     'How can the rogues pretend to sense?
     Their pound is only twenty pence.']

And now the report of a gun was heard, and a sportsman was seen, with
his dogs and attendant, at the upper end of the glen. 'Shough,' said
Dugald Mahony, 'tat's ta Chief.'

'It is not,' said Evan imperiously. 'Do you think he would come to meet
a Sassenach Duinhe-wassel in such a way as that?'

But as they approached a little nearer, he said, with an appearance of
mortification, 'And it is even he, sure enough; and he has not his tail
on after all;--there is no living creature with him but Callum Beg.'

In fact, Fergus Mac-Ivor, of whom a Frenchman might have said, as truly
as of any man in the Highlands, 'QU'IL CONNOIT BIEN SES GENS,' had no
idea of raising himself in the eyes of an English young man of fortune,
by appearing with a retinue of idle Highlanders disproportioned to the
occasion. He was well aware that such an unnecessary attendance would
seem to Edward rather ludicrous than respectable; and while few men were
more attached to ideas of chieftainship and feudal power, he was, for
that very reason, cautious of exhibiting external marks of dignity,
unless at the time and in the manner when they were most likely to
produce an imposing effect. Therefore, although, had he been to receive
a brother chieftain, he would probably have been attended by all that
retinue which Evan described with so much unction, he judged it more
respectable to advance to meet Waverley with a single attendant, a very
handsome Highland boy, who carried his master's shooting-pouch and his
broadsword, without which he seldom went abroad.

When Fergus and Waverley met, the latter was struck with the peculiar
grace and dignity of the Chieftain's figure, Above the middle size, and
finely proportioned, the Highland dress, which he wore in its simplest
mode, set off his person to great advantage. He wore the trews, or
close trousers, made of tartan, chequed scarlet and white; in other
particulars, his dress strictly resembled Evan's, excepting that he had
no weapon save a dirk, very richly mounted with silver. His page, as we
have said, carried his claymore and the fowling-piece, which he held in
his hand, seemed only designed for sport. He had shot in the course of
his walk some young wild-ducks, as, though CLOSE TIME was then
unknown, the broods of grouse were yet too young for the sportsman. His
countenance was decidedly Scottish, with all the peculiarities of
the northern physiognomy, but yet had so little of ifs harshness
and exaggeration, that it would have been pronounced in any country
extremely handsome. The martial air of the bonnet, with a single eagle's
feather as a distinction, added much to the manly appearance of his
head, which was besides ornamented with a far more natural and graceful
cluster of close black curls than ever were exposed to sale in Bond
Street.

An air of openness and affability increased the favourable impression
derived from this handsome and dignified exterior. Yet a skilful
physiognomist would have been less satisfied with the countenance on
the second than on the first view. The eyebrow and upper lip bespoke
something of the habit of peremptory command and decisive superiority.
Even his courtesy, though open, frank, and unconstrained, seemed
to indicate a sense of personal importance; and, upon any check or
accidental excitation, a sudden, though transient lour of the eye,
showed a hasty, haughty, and vindictive temper, not less to be dreaded
because it seemed much under its owner's command. In short, the
countenance of the Chieftain resembled a smiling summer's day, in which,
notwithstanding, we are made sensible by certain, though slight signs,
that it may thunder and lighten before the close of evening.

It was not, however, upon their first meeting that Edward had an
opportunity of making these less favourable remarks. The Chief received
him as a friend of the Baron of Bradwardine, with the utmost expression
of kindness and obligation for the visit; upbraided him gently with
choosing so rude an abode as he had done the night before; and entered
into a lively conversation with him about Donald Bean's housekeeping,
but without the least hint as to his predatory habits, or the immediate
occasion of Waverley's visit, a topic which, as the Chief did not
introduce it, our hero also avoided. While they walked merrily on
towards the house of Glennaquoich, Evan, who now fell respectfully into
the rear, followed with Callum Beg and Dugald Mahony.

We shall take the opportunity to introduce the reader to some
particulars of Fergus Mac-Ivor's character and history, which were
not completely known to Waverley till after a connexion, which, though
arising from a circumstance so casual, had for a length of time the
deepest influence upon his character, actions, and prospects. But this,
being an important subject, must form the commencement of a new chapter.



CHAPTER XIX

THE CHIEF AND HIS MANSION

The ingenious licentiate, Francisco de Ubeda, when he commenced his
history of La Picara Justina Diez,--which, by the way, is one of the
most rare books of Spanish literature,--complained of his pen having
caught up a hair, and forthwith begins, with more eloquence than
common sense, an affectionate expostulation with that useful implement,
upbraiding it with being the quill of a goose,--a bird inconstant by
nature, as frequenting the three elements of water, earth, and air,
indifferently, and being, of course, 'to one thing constant never.' Now
I protest to thee, gentle reader, that I entirely dissent from Francisco
de Ubeda in this matter, and hold it the most useful quality of my pen,
that it can speedily change from grave to gay, and from description and
dialogue to narrative and character. So that, if my quill display no
other properties of its mother-goose than her mutability, truly I shall
be well pleased; and I conceive that you, my worthy friend, will have
no occasion for discontent. From the jargon, therefore, of the Highland
gillies, I pass to the character of their Chief. It is an important
examination, and therefore, like Dogberry, we must spare no wisdom.

The ancestor of Fergus Mac-Ivor, about three centuries before, had set
up a claim to be recognized as chief of the numerous and powerful clan
to which he belonged, the name of which it is unnecessary to mention.
Being defeated by an opponent who had more justice, or at least more
force, on his side, he moved southwards, with those who adhered to him,
in quest of new settlements, like a second Aeneas. The state of the
Perthshire Highlands favoured his purpose. A great baron in that country
had lately become traitor to the crown; Ian, which was the name of our
adventurer, united himself with those who were commissioned by the king
to chastise him, and did such good service, that he obtained a grant
of the property, upon which he and his posterity afterwards resided. He
followed the king also in war to the fertile regions of England, where
he employed his leisure hours so actively in raising subsidies among the
boors of Northumberland and Durham, that upon his return he was enabled
to erect a stone tower, or fortalice, so much admired by his dependants
and neighbours, that he, who had hitherto been called Ian Mac-Ivor, or
John the son of Ivor, was thereafter distinguished, both in song and
genealogy, by the high title of IAN NAN CHAISTEL, or John of the Tower.
The descendants of this worthy were so proud of him, that the reigning
chief always bore the patronymic title of Vich Ian Vohr, i.e. the son of
John the Great; while the clan at large, to distinguish them from that
from which they had seceded, were denominated SLIOCHD NAN IVOR, the race
of Ivor.

The father of Fergus, the tenth in direct descent from John of the
Tower, engaged heart and hand in the insurrection of 1715, and was
forced to fly to France, after the attempt of that year in favour of the
Stuarts had proved unsuccessful. More fortunate than other fugitives, he
obtained employment in the French service, and married a lady of rank in
that kingdom, by whom he had two children, Fergus and his sister Flora.
The Scottish estate had been forfeited and exposed to sale, but was
re-purchased for a small price in the name of the young proprietor, who
in consequence came to reside upon his native domains. [14] It
was soon perceived that he possessed a character of uncommon acuteness,
fire, and ambition, which, as he became acquainted with the state of the
country, gradually assumed a mixed and peculiar tone, that could only
have been acquired Sixty Years since.

Had Fergus Mac-Ivor lived Sixty Years sooner than he did, he would, in
all probability, have wanted the polished manner and knowledge of the
world which he now possessed; and had he lived Sixty Years later, his
ambition and love of rule would have lacked the fuel which his situation
now afforded. He was indeed, within his little circle, as perfect a
politician as Castruccio Castracani himself. He applied himself with
great earnestness to appease all the feuds and dissensions which often
arose among other clans in his neighbourhood, so that he became
a frequent umpire in their quarrels. His own patriarchal power he
strengthened at every expense which his fortune would permit, and indeed
stretched his means to the uttermost, to maintain the rude and plentiful
hospitality, which was the most valued attribute of a chieftain. For the
same reason, he crowded his estate with a tenantry, hardy indeed, and
fit for the purposes of war, but greatly outnumbering what the soil was
calculated to maintain. These consisted chiefly of his own clan, not one
of whom he suffered to quit his lands if he could possibly prevent it.
But he maintained, besides, many adventurers from the mother sept, who
deserted a less warlike, though more wealthy chief, to do homage to
Fergus Mac-Ivor. Other individuals, too, who had not even that apology,
were nevertheless received into his allegiance, which indeed was refused
to none who were, like Poins, proper men of their hands, and were
willing to assume the name of Mac-Ivor.

He was enabled to discipline these forces, from having obtained command
of one of the independent companies raised by Government to preserve the
peace of the Highlands. While in this capacity he acted with vigour and
spirit, and preserved great order in the country under his charge. He
caused his vassals to enter by rotation into his company, and serve for
a certain space of time, which gave them all in turn a general notion
of military discipline. In his campaigns against the banditti, it was
observed that he assumed and exercised to the utmost the discretionary
power, which, while the law had no free course in the Highlands, was
conceived to belong to the military parties who were called in to
support it. He acted, for example, with great and suspicious lenity
to those freebooters who made restitution on his summons, and
offered personal submission to himself, while he rigorously pursued,
apprehended, and sacrificed to justice, all such interlopers as dared to
despise his admonitions or commands. On the other hand, if any officers
of justice, military parties, or others, presumed to pursue thieves or
marauders through his territories, and without applying for his consent
and concurrence, nothing was more certain than that they would meet with
some notable foil or defeat; upon which occasions Fergus Mac-Ivor
was the first to condole with them, and, after gently blaming their
rashness, never failed deeply to lament the lawless state of the
country. These lamentations did not exclude suspicion, and matters were
so represented to Government, that our Chieftain was deprived of his
military command. [15]

Whatever Fergus Mac-Ivor felt on this occasion, he had the art of
entirely suppressing every appearance of discontent; but in a short time
the neighbouring country began to feel bad effects from his disgrace.
Donald Bean Lean, and others of his class, whose depredations had
hitherto been confined to other districts, appeared from thenceforward
to have made a settlement on this devoted border; and their ravages were
carried on with little opposition, as the Lowland gentry were chiefly
Jacobites, and disarmed. This forced many of the inhabitants into
contracts of blackmail with Fergus Mac-Ivor, which not only
established him their protector, and gave him great weight in all their
consultations, but, moreover, supplied funds for the waste of his feudal
hospitality, which the discontinuance of his pay might have otherwise
essentially diminished.

In following this course of conduct, Fergus had a further object than
merely being the great man of his neighbourhood, and ruling despotically
over a small clan. From his infancy upward, he had devoted himself to
the cause of the exiled family, and had persuaded himself, not only
that their restoration to the crown of Britain would be speedy, but that
those who assisted them would be raised to honour and rank. It was
with this view that he laboured to reconcile the Highlanders among
themselves, and augmented his own force to the utmost, to be prepared
for the first favourable opportunity of rising. With this purpose also
he conciliated the favour of such Lowland gentlemen in the vicinity
as were friends to the good cause; and for the same reason, having
incautiously quarrelled with Mr. Bradwardine, who, notwithstanding his
peculiarities, was much respected in the country, he took advantage of
the foray of Donald Bean Lean to solder up the dispute in the manner we
have mentioned. Some, indeed, surmised that he caused the enterprise to
be suggested to Donald, on purpose to pave the way to a reconciliation,
which, supposing that to be the case, cost the Laird of Bradwardine two
good milch-cows. This zeal in their behalf the House of Stuart repaid
with a considerable share of their confidence, an occasional supply of
louis d'or, abundance of fair words, and a parchment, with a huge waxen
seal appended, purporting to be an Earl's patent, granted by no less
a person than James the Third King of England, and Eighth King of
Scotland, to his right leal, trusty, and well-beloved Fergus Mac-Ivor of
Glennaquoich, in the county of Perth, and kingdom of Scotland.

With this future coronet glittering before his eyes, Fergus plunged
deeply into the correspondence and plots of that unhappy period; and,
like all such active agents, easily reconciled his conscience to going
certain lengths in the service of his party, from which honour and pride
would have deterred him, had his sole object been the direct advancement
of his own personal interest. With this insight into a bold, ambitious,
and ardent, yet artful and politic character, we resume the broken
thread of our narrative.

The Chief and his guest had by this time reached the house of
Glennaquoich, which consisted of Ian nan Chaistel's mansion, a high
rude-looking square tower, with the addition of a lofted house, that is,
a building of two stories, constructed by Fergus's grandfather when he
returned from that memorable expedition, well remembered by the western
shires under the name of the Highland Host. Upon occasion of this
crusade against the Ayrshire Whigs and Covenanters, the Vich Ian Vohr
of the time had probably been as successful as his predecessor was in
harrying Northumberland, and therefore left to his posterity a rival
edifice, as a monument of his magnificence.

Around the house, which stood on an eminence in the midst of a narrow
Highland valley, there appeared none of that attention to convenience,
far less to ornament and decoration, which usually surrounds a
gentleman's habitation. An enclosure or two, divided by dry-stone walls,
were the only part of the domain that was fenced; as to the rest,
the narrow slips of level ground which lay by the side of the brook
exhibited a scanty crop of barley, liable to constant depredations from
the herds of wild ponies and black cattle that grazed upon the adjacent
hills. These ever and anon made an incursion upon the arable ground,
which was repelled by the loud, uncouth, and dissonant shouts of half
a dozen Highland swains, all running as if they had been mad, and every
one hallooing a half-starved dog to the rescue of the forage. At a
little distance up the glen was a small and stunted wood of birch; the
hills were high and heathy, but without any variety of surface; so that
the whole view was wild and desolate, rather than grand and solitary.
Yet, such as it was, no genuine descendant of Ian nan Chaistel would
have changed the domain for Stowe or Blenheim.

There was a sight, however, before the gate, which perhaps would have
afforded the first owner of Blenheim more pleasure than the finest view
in the domain assigned to him by the gratitude of his country. This
consisted of about a hundred Highlanders in complete dress and arms;
at sight of whom the Chieftain apologized to Waverley in a sort of
negligent manner. 'He had forgot,' he said, 'that he had ordered a
few of his clan out, for the purpose of seeing that they were in a fit
condition to protect the country, and prevent such accidents as, he was
sorry to learn, had befallen the Baron of Bradwardine. Before they were
dismissed, perhaps Captain Waverley might choose to see them go through
a part of their exercise.'

Edward assented, and the men executed with agility and precision some of
the ordinary military movements. They then practised individually at a
mark, and showed extraordinary dexterity in the management of the
pistol and firelock. They took aim, standing, sitting, leaning, or
lying prostrate, as they were commanded, and always with effect upon the
target. Next, they paired off for the broadsword exercise; and, having
manifested their individual skill and dexterity, united in two bodies,
and exhibited a sort of mock encounter, in which the charge, the rally,
the flight, the pursuit, and all the current of a heady fight, were
exhibited to the sound of the great war-bagpipe.

On a signal made by the Chief, the skirmish was ended. Marches were
then made for running, wrestling, leaping, pitching the bar, and other
sports, in which this feudal militia displayed incredible swiftness,
strength, and agility; and accomplished the purpose which their
Chieftain had at heart, by impressing on Waverley no light sense of
their merit as soldiers, and of the power of him who commanded them by
his nod. [16]

'And what number of such gallant fellows have the happiness to call you
leader?' asked Waverley.

'In a good cause, and under a chieftain whom they loved, the race of
Ivor have seldom taken the field under five hundred claymores. But you
are aware, Captain Waverley, that the Disarming Act, passed about twenty
years ago, prevents their being in the complete state of preparation
as in former times; and I keep no more of my clan under arms than may
defend my own or my friends' property, when the country is troubled
with such men as your last night's landlord; and Government, which
has removed other means of defence, must connive at our protecting
ourselves.'

'But, with your force, you might soon destroy, or put down, such gangs
as that of Donald Bean Lean.'

'Yes, doubtless; and my reward would be a summons to deliver up to
General Blakeney, at Stirling, the few broadswords they have left us:
there were little policy in that, methinks.--But come, Captain, the
sound of the pipes informs me that dinner is prepared. Let me have the
honour to show you into my rude mansion.'



CHAPTER XX

A HIGHLAND FEAST

Ere Waverley entered the banqueting hall, he was offered the patriarchal
refreshment of a bath for the feet, which the sultry weather, and the
morasses he had traversed, rendered highly acceptable. He was not,
indeed, so luxuriously attended upon this occasion as the heroic
travellers in the Odyssey; the task of ablution and abstersion being
performed, not by a beautiful damsel, trained

     To chafe the limb, and pour the fragrant oil,

but by a smoke-dried skinny old Highland woman, who did not seem to
think herself much honoured by the duty imposed upon her, but muttered
between her teeth, 'Our father's herds did not feed so near together,
that I should do you this service.' A small donation, however, amply
reconciled this ancient handmaiden to the supposed degradation; and, as
Edward proceeded to the hall, she gave him her blessing, in the Gaelic
proverb, 'May the open hand be filled the fullest.'

The hall, in which the feast was prepared, occupied all the first storey
of Ian nan Chaistel's original erection, and a huge oaken table extended
through its whole length. The apparatus for dinner was simple, even to
rudeness, and the company numerous, even to crowding. At the head of
the table was the Chief himself, with Edward, and two or three Highland
visitors of neighbouring clans; the elders of his own tribe, wadsetters,
and tacksmen, as they were called, who occupied portions of his estate
as mortgagers or lessees, sat next in rank beneath them, their sons,
and nephews, and foster-brethren; then the officers of the Chief's
household, according to their order; and, lowest of all, the tenants
who actually cultivated the ground. Even beyond this long perspective,
Edward might see upon the green, to which a huge pair of folding doors
opened, a multitude of Highlanders of a yet inferior description, who,
nevertheless, were considered as guests, and had their share both of
the countenance of the entertainer, and of the cheer of the day. In the
distance, and fluctuating round this extreme verge of the banquet, was a
changeful group of women, ragged boys and girls, beggars, young and old,
large greyhounds, and terriers, and pointers, and curs of low degree;
all of whom took some interest, more or less immediate, in the main
action of the piece.

This hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its line of economy.
Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes of fish, game, &c.,
which were at the upper end of the table, and immediately under the
eye of the English stranger. Lower down stood immense clumsy joints
of mutton and beef, which, but for the absence of pork, [17.]
abhorred in the Highlands, resembled the rude festivity of the banquet
of Penelope's suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb, called
'a hog in har'st,' roasted whole. It was set upon its legs, with a bunch
of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibited in that form to
gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself more on the plenty
than the elegance of his master's table. The sides of this poor animal
were fiercely attacked by the clansmen, some with dirks, others with the
knives which were usually in the same sheath with the dagger, so that it
was soon rendered a mangled and rueful spectacle. Lower down still, the
victuals seemed of yet coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant.
Broth, onions, cheese, and the fragments of the feast, regaled the sons
of Ivor who feasted in the open air.

The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under similar
regulations. Excellent claret and champagne were liberally distributed
among the Chief's immediate neighbours; whisky, plain or diluted, and
strong beer, refreshed those who sat near the lower end. Nor did this
inequality of distribution appear to give the least offence. Every one
present understood that his taste was to be formed according to the
rank which he held at table; and, consequently, the tacksmen and their
dependants always professed the wine was too cold for their stomachs,
and called, apparently out of choice, for the liquor which was assigned
to them from economy. [See Note 18.] The bagpipers, three in number,
screamed, during the whole time of dinner, a tremendous war-tune;
and the echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtic tongue,
produced such a Babel of noises, that Waverley dreaded his ears would
never recover it. Mac-Ivor, indeed, apologized for the confusion
occasioned by so large a party, and pleaded the necessity of his
situation, on which unlimited hospitality was imposed as a paramount
duty. 'These stout idle kinsmen of mine,' he said, 'account my estate
as held in trust for their support; and I must find them beef and
ale, while the rogues will do nothing for themselves but practise the
broadsword, or wander about the hills, shooting, fishing, hunting,
drinking, and making love to the lasses of the strath. But what can I
do, Captain Waverley? everything will keep after its kind, whether it
be a hawk or a Highlander.' Edward made the expected answer, in a
compliment upon his possessing so many bold and attached followers.

'Why, yes,' replied the Chief,' were I disposed, like my father, to put
myself in the way of getting one blow on the head, or two on the neck,
I believe the loons would stand by me. But who thinks of that in the
present day, when the maxim is,--"Better an old woman with a purse in
her hand, than three men with belted brands?"' Then, turning to the
company, he proposed the 'Health of Captain Waverley, a worthy friend of
his kind neighbour and ally, the Baron of Bradwardine.'

'He is welcome hither,' said one of the elders, 'if he come from Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine.'

'I say nay to that,' said an old man, who apparently did not mean to
pledge the toast: 'I say nay to that;--while there is a green leaf in
the forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne.'

'There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine,' answered
another ancient; 'and the guest that comes hither from him should be
welcome, though he came with blood on his hand, unless it were blood of
the race of Ivor.'

The old man, whose cup remained full, replied, 'There has been blood
enough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine.'

'Ah! Ballenkeiroch,' replied the first, 'you think rather of the flash
of the carbine at the Mains of Tully-Veolan, than the glance of the
sword that fought for the cause at Preston.'

'And well I may,' answered Ballenkeiroch; 'the flash of the gun cost me
a fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has done but little for
King James.'

The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley, that the
Baron had shot this old man's son in a fray near Tully-Veolan about
seven years before; and then hastened to remove Ballenkeiroch's
prejudice, by informing him that Waverley was an Englishman, unconnected
by birth or alliance with the family of Bradwardine; upon which the old
gentleman raised the hitherto-untasted cup, and courteously drank to
his health. This ceremony being requited in kind, the Chieftain made
a signal for the pipes to cease, and said aloud, 'Where is the song
hidden, my friends, that Mac-Murrough cannot find it?'

Mac-Murrough, the family BHAIRDH, an aged man, immediately took the
hint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, a profusion of
Celtic verses, which were received by the audience with all the applause
of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his declamation, his ardour seemed to
increase. He had at first spoken with his eyes fixed on the ground;
he now cast them around as if beseeching, and anon as if commanding,
attention, and his tones rose into wild and impassioned notes,
accompanied with appropriate gestures. He seemed to Edward, who attended
to him with much interest, to recite many proper names, to lament the
dead, to apostrophize the absent, to exhort, and entreat, and animate
those who were present. Waverley thought he even discerned his own name,
and was convinced his conjecture was right, from the eyes of the company
being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously. The ardour of
the poet appeared to communicate itself to the audience. Their wild and
sunburnt countenances assumed a fiercer and more animated expression;
all bent forward towards the reciter, many sprang up and waved their
arms in ecstasy, and some laid their hands on their swords. When the
song ceased, there was a deep pause, while the aroused feelings of the
poet and of the hearers gradually subsided into their usual channel.

The Chieftain, who during this scene had appeared rather to watch
the emotions which were excited, than to partake their high tone of
enthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood by him.
'Give this,' he said to an attendant, 'to Mac-Murrough nan Fonn (i.e. of
the songs), and when he has drunk the juice, bid him keep, for the sake
of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd which contained it.' The gift
was received by Mac-Murrough with profound gratitude; he drank the wine,
and, kissing the cup, shrouded it with reverence in the plaid which
was folded on his bosom. He then burst forth into what Edward justly
supposed to be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks, and praises of his
Chief. It was received with applause, but did not produce the effect
of his first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded
the generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Many approved
Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the Chieftain gave
his guest the following versions:--'To him that will not turn his back
on friend or foe.' 'To him that never forsook a comrade.' 'To him that
never bought or sold justice.' 'Hospitality to the exile, and broken
bones to the tyrant.' 'The lads with the kilts.' 'Highlanders, shoulder
to shoulder,'--with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature.

Edward was particularly solicitous to know the meaning of that song
which appeared to produce such effect upon the passions of the
company, and hinted his curiosity to his host. 'As I observe,' said
the Chieftain, 'that you have passed the bottle during the last
three rounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to my sister's
tea-table, who can explain these things to you better than I can.
Although I cannot stint my clan in the usual current of their festivity,
yet I neither am addicted myself to exceed in its amount, nor do I,'
added he, smiling, 'keep a Bear to devour the intellects of such as can
make good use of them.'

Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain, saying a
few words to those around him, left the table, followed by Waverley. As
the door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich Ian Vohr's health invoked
with a wild and animated cheer, that expressed the satisfaction of the
guests, and the depth of their devotion to his service.



CHAPTER XXI

THE CHIEFTAIN'S SISTER

The drawing-room of Flora Mac-Ivor was furnished in the plainest and
most simple manner; for at Glennaquoich every other sort of expenditure
was retrenched as much as possible, for the purpose of maintaining, in
its full dignity, the hospitality of the Chieftain, and retaining and
multiplying the number of his dependants and adherents. But there was no
appearance of this parsimony in the dress of the lady herself, which
was in texture elegant, and even rich, and arranged in a manner which
partook partly of the Parisian fashion, and partly of the more simple
dress of the Highlands, blended together with great taste. Her hair was
not disfigured by the art of the friseur, but fell in jetty ringlets
on her neck, confined only by a circlet, richly set with diamonds. This
peculiarity she adopted in compliance with the Highland prejudices,
which could not endure that a woman's head should be covered before
wedlock.

Flora Mac-Ivor bore a most striking resemblance to her brother Fergus;
so much so, that they might have played Viola and Sebastian with the
same exquisite effect produced by the appearance of Mrs. Henry Siddons
and her brother, Mr. William Murray, in these characters. They had, the
same antique and regular correctness of profile; the same dark eyes,
eyelashes, and eyebrows; the same clearness of complexion, excepting
that Fergus's was embrowned by exercise, and Flora's possessed the
utmost feminine delicacy. But the haughty, and somewhat stern regularity
of Fergus's features was beautifully softened in those of Flora. Their
voices were also similar in tone, though differing in the key. That of
Fergus, especially while issuing orders to his followers during their
military exercise, reminded Edward of a favourite passage in the
description of Emetrius:

     --whose voice was heard around,
     Loud as a trumpet with a silver sound.

That of Flora, on the contrary, was soft and sweet,--'an excellent thing
in woman;' yet, in urging any favourite topic, which she often pursued
with natural eloquence, it possessed as well the tones which impress awe
and conviction, as those of persuasive insinuation. The eager glance of
the keen black eye, which in the Chieftain seemed impatient even of the
material obstacles it encountered, had, in his sister, acquired a gentle
pensiveness. His looks seemed to seek glory, power, all that could exalt
him above others in the race of humanity; while those of his sister,
as if she were already conscious of mental superiority, seemed to pity,
rather than envy, those who were struggling for any further distinction.
Her sentiments corresponded with the expression of her countenance.
Early education had impressed upon her mind, as well as on that of the
Chieftain, the most devoted attachment to the exiled family of Stuart.
She believed if the duty of her brother, of his clan, of every man in
Britain, at whatever personal hazard, to contribute to that restoration
which the partisans of the Chevalier de St. George had not ceased
to hope for. For this she was prepared to do all, to suffer all,
to sacrifice all. But her loyalty, as it exceeded her brother's in
fanaticism, excelled it also in purity. Accustomed to petty intrigue,
and necessarily involved in a thousand paltry and selfish discussions,
ambitious also by nature, his political faith was tinctured, at least,
if not tainted, by the views of interest and advancement so easily
combined with it; and at the moment he should unsheathe his claymore,
it might be difficult to say whether it would be most with the view of
making James Stuart a king, or Fergus Mac-Ivor an earl. This, indeed,
was a mixture of feeling which he did not avow even to himself, but it
existed, nevertheless, in a powerful degree.

In Flora's bosom, on the contrary, the zeal of loyalty burnt pure and
unmixed with any selfish feeling; she would have as soon made religion
the mask of ambitious and interested views, as have shrouded them
under the opinions which she had been taught to think patriotism. Such
instances of devotion were not uncommon among the followers of the
unhappy race of Stuart, of which many memorable proofs will recur to the
mind of most of my readers. But peculiar attention on the part of the
Chevalier de St. George and his princess to the parents of Fergus and
his sister, and to themselves when orphans, had riveted their faith.
Fergus, upon the death of his parents, had been for some time a page of
honour in the train of the Chevalier's lady, and, from his beauty
and sprightly temper, was uniformly treated by her with the utmost
distinction. This was also extended to Flora, who was maintained for
some time at a convent of the first order, at the princess's expense,
and removed from thence into her own family, where she spent nearly two
years. Both brother and sister retained the deepest and most grateful
sense of her kindness.

Having thus touched upon the leading principle of Flora's character, I
may dismiss the rest more slightly. She was highly accomplished, and
had acquired those elegant manners to be expected from one who, in early
youth, had been the companion of a princess; yet she had not learned
to substitute the gloss of politeness for the reality of feeling.
When settled in the lonely regions of Glennaquoich, she found that her
resources in French, English, and Italian literature, were likely to
be few and interrupted; and, in order to fill up the vacant time, she
bestowed a part of it upon the music and poetical traditions of the
Highlanders, and began really to feel the pleasure in the pursuit, which
her brother, whose perceptions of literary merit were more blunt, rather
affected for the sake of popularity than actually experienced. Her
resolution was strengthened in these researches by the extreme delight
which her inquiries seemed to afford those to whom she resorted for
information.

Her love of her clan, an attachment which was almost hereditary in
her bosom, was, like her loyalty, a more pure passion than that of
her brother. He was too thorough a politician, regarded his patriarchal
influence too much as the means of accomplishing his own aggrandizement,
that we should term him the model of a Highland Chieftain. Flora felt
the same anxiety for cherishing and extending their patriarchal sway,
but it was with the generous desire of vindicating from poverty, or at
least from want and foreign oppression, those whom her brother was by
birth, according to the notions of the time and country, entitled to
govern. The savings of her income, for she had a small pension from the
Princess Sobieski, were dedicated, not to add to the comforts of the
peasantry, for that was a word which they neither knew nor apparently
wished to know, but to relieve their absolute necessities, when in
sickness or extreme old age. At every other period, they rather toiled
to procure something which they might share with the Chief as a proof of
their attachment, than expected other assistance from him save what was
afforded by the rude hospitality of his castle, and the general division
and subdivision of his estate among them. Flora was so much beloved by
them, that when Mac-Murrough composed a song in which he enumerated all
the principal beauties of the district, and intimated her superiority
by concluding; that 'the fairest apple hung on the highest bough,'
he received, in donatives from the individuals of the clan, more
seed-barley than would have sowed his Highland Parnassus, the Bard's
croft as it was called, ten times over.

From situation, as well as choice, Miss Mac-Ivor's society was extremely
limited. Her most intimate friend had been Rose Bradwardine, to whom she
was much attached; and when seen together, they would have afforded
an artist two admirable subjects for the gay and the melancholy muse.
Indeed Rose was so tenderly watched by her father, and her circle
of wishes was so limited, that none arose but what he was willing to
gratify, and scarce any which did not come within the compass of
his power. With Flora it was otherwise. While almost a girl, she had
undergone the most complete change of scene, from gaiety and splendour
to absolute solitude and comparative poverty; and the ideas and wishes
which she chiefly fostered, respected great national events, and changes
not to be brought round without both hazard and bloodshed, and therefore
not to be thought of with levity. Her manner, consequently, was grave,
though she readily contributed her talents to the amusement of society,
and stood very high in the opinion of the old Baron, who used to sing
along with her such French duets of Lindor and Cloris, &c., as were in
fashion about the end of the reign of old Louis le Grand.

It was generally believed, though no one durst have hinted it to the
Baron of Bradwardine, that Flora's entreaties had no small share in
allaying the wrath of Fergus upon occasion of their quarrel. She took
her brother on the assailable side, by dwelling first upon the Baron's
age, and then representing the injury which the cause might sustain, and
the damage which must arise to his own character in point of prudence,
so necessary to a political agent, if he persisted in carrying it to
extremity. Otherwise it is probable it would have terminated in a duel,
both because the Baron had, on a former occasion, shed blood of the
clan, though the matter had been timely accommodated, and on account
of his high reputation for address at his weapon, which Fergus
almost condescended to envy. For the same reason she had urged their
reconciliation, which the Chieftain the more readily agreed to, as it
favoured some ulterior projects of his own.

To this young lady, now presiding at the female empire of the tea-table,
Fergus introduced Captain Waverley, whom she received with the usual
forms of politeness.



CHAPTER XXII

HIGHLAND MINSTRELSY

When the first salutations had passed, Fergus said to his sister, 'My
dear Flora, before I return to the barbarous ritual of our forefathers,
I must tell you that Captain Waverley is a worshipper of the Celtic
muse, not the less so perhaps that he does not understand a word of her
language. I have told him you are eminent as a translator of Highland
poetry, and that Mac-Murrough admires your version of his songs upon the
same principle that Captain Waverley admires the original,--because he
does not comprehend them. Will you have the goodness to read or recite
to our guest in English, the extraordinary string of names which
Mac-Murrough has tacked together in Gaelic?--My life to a moorfowl's
feather, you are provided with a version; for I know you are in all the
bard's councils, and acquainted with his songs long before he rehearses
them in the hall.'

'How can you say so, Fergus? You know how little these verses can
possibly interest an English stranger, even if I could translate them as
you pretend.'

'Not less than they interest me, lady fair. To-day your joint
composition, for I insist you had a share in it, has cost me the last
silver cup in the castle, and I suppose will cost me something else next
time I hold COUR PLENIERE, if the muse descends on Mac-Murrough; for
you know our proverb,--When the hand of the chief ceases to bestow, the
breath of the bard is frozen in the utterance.--Well, I would it were
even so: there are three things that are useless to a modern Highlander,
a sword which he must not draw,--a bard to sing of deeds which he dare
not imitate,--and a large goatskin purse without a louis d'or to put
into it.'

'Well, brother, since you betray my secrets, you cannot expect me to
keep yours.--I assure you, Captain Waverley, that Fergus is too proud
to exchange his broadsword for a marechal's baton; that he esteems
Mac-Murrough a far greater poet than Homer, and would not give up his
goat skin purse for all the louis d'or which it could contain.'

'Well pronounced, Flora; blow for blow, as Conan [See Note 19.] said to
the devil. Now do you two talk of bards and poetry, if not of purses and
claymores, while I return to do the final honours to the senators of the
tribe of Ivor.' So saying, he left the room.

The conversation continued between Flora, and Waverley; for two
well-dressed young women, whose character seemed to hover between that
of companions and dependants, took no share in it. They were both
pretty girls, but served only as foils to the grace and beauty of their
patroness. The discourse followed the turn which the Chieftain had given
it, and Waverley was equally amused and surprised with the account which
the lady gave him of Celtic poetry.

'The recitation,' she said, 'of poems, recording the feats of heroes,
the complaints of lovers, and the wars of contending tribes, forms the
chief amusement of a winter fireside in the Highlands. Some of these are
said to be very ancient, and if they are ever translated into any of the
languages of civilized Europe, cannot fail to produce a deep and general
sensation. Others are more modern, the composition of those family bards
whom the chieftains of more distinguished name and power retain as the
poets and historians of their tribes. These, of course, possess various
degrees of merit; but much of it must evaporate in translation, or be
lost on those who do not sympathize with the feelings of the poet.

'And your bard, whose effusions seemed to produce such effect upon
the company to-day,--is he reckoned among the favourite poets of the
mountain?'

'That is a trying question. His reputation is high among his countrymen,
and you must not expect me to depreciate it.' [The Highland poet almost
always was an improvisatore. Captain Burt met one of them at Lovat's
table.]

'But the song, Miss Mac-Ivor, seemed to awaken all those warriors, both
young and old.'

'The song is little more than a catalogue of names of the 'Highland
clans under their distinctive peculiarities, and an exhortation to them
to remember and to emulate the actions of their forefathers.'

'And am I wrong in conjecturing, however extraordinary the guess
appears, that there was some allusion to me in the verses which he
recited?'

'You have a quick observation, Captain Waverley, which in this instance
has not deceived you. The Gaelic language, being uncommonly vocalic,
is well adapted for sudden and extemporaneous poetry; and a bard seldom
fails to augment the effects of a premeditated song, by throwing in
any stanzas which may be suggested by the circumstances attending the
recitation.'

'I would give my best horse to know what the Highland bard could find to
say of such an unworthy Southron as myself.'

'It shall not even cost you a lock of his mane.--Una, MAVOURNEEN! (She
spoke a few words to one of the young girls in attendance, who instantly
curtsied, and tripped out of the room.)--I have sent Una to learn from
the bard the expressions he used, and you shall command my skill as
dragoman.'

Una returned in a few minutes, and repeated to her mistress a few
lines in Gaelic. Flora seemed to think for a moment, and then, slightly
colouring, she turned to Waverley--'It is impossible to gratify your
curiosity, Captain Waverley, without exposing my own presumption. If
you will give me a few moments for consideration, I will endeavour to
engraft the meaning of these lines upon a rude English translation,
which I have attempted, of a part of the original. The duties of the
tea-table seem to be concluded, and, as the evening is delightful, Una
will show you the way to one of my favourite haunts, and Cathleen and I
will join you there.'

Una, having received instructions in her native language, conducted
Waverley out by a passage different from that through which he had
entered the apartment. At a distance he heard the hall of the chief
still resounding with the clang of bagpipes and the high applause of
his guests. Having gained the open air by a postern door, they walked a
little way up the wild, bleak, and narrow valley in which the house was
situated, following the course of the stream that winded through it.
In a spot, about a quarter of a mile from the castle, two brooks, which
formed the little river, had their junction. The larger of the two came
down the long bare valley, which extended, apparently without any change
or elevation of character, as far as the hills which formed its boundary
permitted the eye to reach. But the other stream, which had its source
among the mountains on the left hand of the strath, seemed to issue from
a very narrow and dark opening betwixt two large rocks. These streams
were different also in character. The larger was placid, and even sullen
in its course, wheeling in deep eddies, or sleeping in dark blue pools;
but the motions of the lesser brook were rapid and furious, issuing from
between precipices, like a maniac from his confinement, all foam and
uproar.

It was up the course of this last stream that Waverley, like a knight of
romance, was conducted by the fair Highland damsel, his silent guide.
A small path, which had been rendered easy in many places for Flora's
accommodation, led him through scenery of a very different description
from that which he had just quitted. Around the castle, all was cold,
bare, and desolate, yet tame even in desolation; but this narrow glen,
at so short a distance, seemed to open into the land of romance. The
rocks assumed a thousand peculiar and varied forms. In one place, a
crag of huge size presented its gigantic bulk, as if to forbid the
passenger's farther progress; and it was not until he approached its
very base, that Waverley discerned the sudden and acute turn by which
the pathway wheeled its course around this formidable obstacle. In
another spot, the projecting rocks from the opposite sides of the chasm
had approached so near to each other, that two pine-trees laid across,
and covered with turf, formed a rustic bridge at the height of at least
one hundred and fifty feet. It had no ledges, and was barely three feet
in breadth.

While gazing at this pass of peril, which crossed, like a single black
line, the small portion of blue sky not intercepted by the projecting
rocks on either side, it was with a sensation of horror that Waverley
beheld Flora and her attendant appear, like inhabitants of another
region, propped, as it were, in mid air, upon this trembling structure.
She stopped upon observing him below, and, with an air of graceful ease,
which made him shudder, waved her handkerchief to him by way of signal.
He was unable, from the sense of dizziness which her situation conveyed,
to return the salute; and was never more relieved than when the fair
apparition passed on from the precarious eminence which she seemed to
occupy with so much indifference, and disappeared on the other side.

Advancing a few yards, and passing under the bridge which he had viewed
with so much terror, the path ascended rapidly from the edge of the
brook, and the glen widened into a sylvan amphitheatre, waving with
birch, young oaks, and hazels, with here and there a scattered yew-tree.
The rocks now receded, but still showed their grey and shaggy crests
rising among the copse-wood. Still higher, rose eminences and peaks,
some bare, some clothed with wood, some round and purple with heath, and
others splintered into rocks and crags. At a short turning, the path,
which had for some furlongs lost sight of the brook, suddenly placed
Waverley in front of a romantic waterfall. It was not so remarkable
either for great height or quantity of water, as for the beautiful
accompaniments which made the spot interesting. After a broken cataract
of about twenty feet, the stream was received in a large natural basin
filled to the brim with water, which, where the bubbles of the fall
subsided, was so exquisitely clear, that, although it was of great
depth, the eye could discern each pebble at the bottom. Eddying round
this reservoir, the brook found its way over a broken part of the ledge,
and formed a second fall, which seemed to seek the very abyss; then,
wheeling out beneath from among the smooth dark rocks, which it had
polished for ages, it wandered murmuring down the glen, forming the
stream up which Waverley had just ascended. [See Note 20.] The borders
of this romantic reservoir corresponded in beauty; but it was beauty
of a stern and commanding cast, as if in the act of expanding into
grandeur. Mossy banks of turf were broken and interrupted by huge
fragments of rock, and decorated with trees and shrubs, some of which
had been planted under the direction of Flora, but so cautiously, that
they added to the grace, without diminishing the romantic wildness of
the scene.

Here, like one of those lovely forms which decorate the landscapes
of Poussin, Waverley found Flora, gazing on the waterfall. Two paces
further back stood Cathleen, holding a small Scottish harp, the use of
which had been taught to Flora by Rory Dall, one of the last harpers of
the Western Highlands. The sun, now stooping in the west, gave a rich
and varied tinge to all the objects which surrounded Waverley, and
seemed to add more than human brilliancy to the full expressive darkness
of Flora's eye, exalted the richness and purity of her complexion, and
enhanced the dignity and grace of her beautiful form. Edward thought
he had never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined a figure of such
exquisite and interesting loveliness. The wild beauty of the retreat,
bursting upon him as if by magic, augmented the mingled feeling of
delight and awe with which he approached her, like a fair enchantress of
Boiardo or Ariosto, by whose nod the scenery around seemed to have been
created, an Eden in the wilderness.

Flora, like every beautiful woman, was conscious of her own power,
and pleased with its effects, which she could easily discern from the
respectful, yet confused address of the young soldier. But, as she
possessed excellent sense, she gave the romance of the scene, and other
accidental circumstances, full weight in appreciating the feelings with
which Waverley seemed obviously to be impressed; and, unacquainted with
the fanciful and susceptible peculiarities of his character, considered
his homage as the passing tribute which a woman of even inferior charms
might have expected in such a situation. She therefore quietly led the
way to a spot at such a distance from the cascade, that its sound should
rather accompany than interrupt that of her voice and instrument, and,
sitting down upon a mossy fragment of rock, she took the harp from
Cathleen.

'I have given you the trouble of walking to this spot, Captain Waverley,
both because I thought the scenery would interest you, and because a
Highland song would suffer still more from my imperfect translation,
were I to introduce it without its own wild and appropriate
accompaniments. To speak in the poetical language of my country, the
seat of the Celtic muse is in the mist of the secret and solitary hill,
and her voice in the murmur of the mountain stream. He who wooes her
must love the barren rock more than the fertile valley, and the solitude
of the desert better than the festivity of the hall.'

Few could have heard this lovely woman make this declaration, with a
voice where harmony was exalted by pathos, without exclaiming that
the muse whom she invoked could never find a more appropriate
representative. But Waverley, though the thought rushed on his mind,
found no courage to utter it. Indeed, the wild feeling of romantic
delight with which he heard the first few notes she drew from her
instrument, amounted almost to a sense of pain. He would not for worlds
have quitted his place by her side; yet he almost longed for solitude,
that he might decipher and examine at leisure the complication of
emotions which now agitated his bosom.

Flora had exchanged the measured and monotonous recitative of the bard
for a lofty and uncommon Highland air, which had been a battle-song in
former ages. A few irregular strains introduced a prelude of a wild and
peculiar tone, which harmonized well with the distant waterfall, and the
soft sigh of the evening breeze in the rustling leaves of an aspen which
overhung the seat of the fair harpress. The following verses convey but
little idea of the feelings with which, so sung and accompanied, they
were heard by Waverley:--

     There is mist on the mountain, and night on the vale,
     But more dark is the sleep of the sons of the Gael.
     A stranger commanded--it sunk on the land;
     It has frozen each heart, and benumbed every hand!

     The dirk and the target lie sordid with dust;
     The bloodless claymore is but reddened with rust;
     On the hill or the glen if a gun should appear,
     It is only to war with the heath-cock or deer.

     The deeds of our sires if our bards should rehearse,
     Let a blush or a blow be the meed of their verse!
     Be mute every string, and be hushed every tone,
     That shall bid us remember the fame that is flown!

     But the dark hours of night and of slumber are past;
     The morn on our mountains is dawning at last;
     Glenaladale's peaks are illumed with the rays,
     And the streams of Glenfinnan leap bright in the blaze.

     [The young and daring adventurer, Charles Edward, landed at
     Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed his standard in the
     valley of Glenfinnan, mustering around it the Mac-Donalds, the
     Camerons, and other less numerous clans, whom he had prevailed
     on to join him.  There is a monument erected on the spot, with
     a Latin inscription by the late Dr. Gregory.]


     O high-minded Moray!--the exiled--the dear!--
     In the blush of the dawning the STANDARD uprear!
     Wide, wide on the winds of the north let it fly,
     Like the sun's latest flash when the tempest is nigh!

     [The Marquis of Tullibardine's elder brother, who, long exiled,
     returned to Scotland with Charles Edward in 1745]

     Ye sons of the strong, when that dawning shall break,
     Need the harp of the aged remind you to wake?
     That dawn never beamed on your forefathers' eye,
     But it roused each high chieftain to vanquish or die.

     O!  sprung from the kings who in Islay kept state,
     Proud chiefs of Clan Ranald, Glengarry, and Sleat!
     Combine like three streams from one mountain of snow,
     And resistless in union rush down on the foe!

     True son of Sir Even, undaunted Lochiel,
     Place thy targe on thy shoulder and burnish thy steel!
     Rough Keppoch, give breath to thy bugle's bold swell,
     Till far Coryarrick resound to the knell!

     Stern son of Lord Kenneth, high chief of Kinntail,
     Let the stag in thy standard bound wild in the gale!
     May the race of Clan Gillean, the fearless and free,
     Remember Glenlivat, Harlaw, and Dundee!

     Let the clan of grey Fingon, whose offspring has given
     Such heroes to earth, and such martyrs to heaven,
     Unite with the race of renowned Rorri More,
     To launch the long galley, and stretch to the oar.

     How Mac-Shimei will joy when their chief shall display
     The ewe-crested bonnet o'er tresses of grey!
     How the race of wronged Alpine and murdered Glencoe
     Shall shout for revenge when they pour on the foe!

     Ye sons of brown Dermid, who slew the wild boar,
     Resume the pure faith of the great Callum-More!
     Mac-Neil of the Islands, and Moy of the Lake,
     For honour, for freedom, for vengeance awake!

Here a large greyhound, bounding up the glen, jumped upon Flora, and
interrupted her music by his importunate caresses. At a distant whistle,
he turned, and shot down the path again with the rapidity of an arrow.
'That is Fergus's faithful attendant, Captain Waverley, and that was his
signal. He likes no poetry but what is humorous, and comes in good time
to interrupt my long catalogue of the tribes, whom one of your saucy
English poets calls

     Our bootless host of high-born beggars,
     Mac-Leans, Mac-Kenzies, and Mac-Gregors.'

Waverley expressed his regret at the interruption.

'Oh, you cannot guess how much you have lost! The bard, as in duty
bound, has addressed three long stanzas to Vich Ian Vohr of the Banners,
enumerating all his great properties, and not forgetting his being a
cheerer of the harper and bard,--"a giver of bounteous gifts." Besides,
you should have heard a practical admonition to the fair-haired son of
the stranger, who lives in the land where the grass is always green--the
rider on the shining pampered steed, whose hue is like the raven, and
whose neigh is like the scream of the eagle for battle. This valiant
horseman is affectionately conjured to remember that his ancestors were
distinguished by their loyalty, as well as by their courage.--All this
you have lost; but, since your curiosity is not satisfied, I judge, from
the distant sound of my brother's whistle, I may have time to sing the
concluding stanzas before he comes to laugh at my translation.'

     Awake on your hills, on your islands awake,
     Brave sons of the mountain, the frith, and the lake!
     'Tis the bugle--but not for the chase is the call;
     'Tis the pibroch's shrill summons--but not to the hall.

     'Tis the summons of heroes for conquest or death,
     When the banners are blazing on mountain and heath:
     They call to the dirk, the claymore, and the targe,
     To the march and the muster, the line and the charge.

     Be the brand of each Chieftain like Fin's in his ire!
     May the blood through his veins flow like currents of fire!
     Burst the base foreign yoke as your sires did of yore,
     Or die like your sires, and endure it no more!



CHAPTER XXIII

WAVERLEY CONTINUES AT GLENNAQUOICH

As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before them. 'I knew I should
find you here, even without the assistance of my friend Bran. A simple
and unsublimed taste now, like my own, would prefer a jet d'eau at
Versailles to this cascade with all its accompaniments of rock and roar;
but this is Flora's Parnassus, Captain Waverley, and that fountain her
Helicon. It would be greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could
teach her coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence: he has
just drunk a pint of usquebaugh to correct, he said, the coldness of the
claret.--Let me try its virtues.' He sipped a little water in the hollow
of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a theatrical air,--

     'O Lady of the desert, hail!
     That lov'st the harping of the Gael,
     Through fair and fertile regions borne,
     Where never yet grew grass or corn.

But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a Highland
Helicon.--ALLONS, COURAGE!--

     O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine,
     A cette heureuse fontaine,
     Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage,
     Que quelques vilains troupeaux,
     Suivis de nymphes de village,
     Qui les escortent sans sabots'--

'A truce, dear Fergus! spare us those most tedious and insipid persons
of all Arcadia. Do not, for Heaven's sake, bring down Coridon and Lindor
upon us.'

'Nay, if you cannot relish LA HOULETTE ET LE CHALUMEAU, have with you in
heroic strains.'

'Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the inspiration of
Mac-Murrough's cup, rather than of mine.'

'I disclaim it, MA BELLE DEMOISELLE, although I protest it would be the
more congenial of the two. Which of your crackbrained Italian romancers
is it that says,

     Io d'Elicona niente
     Mi curo, in fe de Dio, che'il bere d'acque
     (Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre me spiacque!
     [Good sooth, I reck not of your Helicon;
     Drink water whoso will, in faith I will drink none.]

But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little Cathleen
shall sing you Drimmindhu.--Come, Cathleen, ASTORE (i.e. my dear),
begin; no apologies to the CEANKINNE.'

Cathleen sang with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the burlesque
elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic tones of which,
though he did not understand the language, made Waverley laugh more
than once. [This ancient Gaelic ditty is still well known, both in the
Highlands and in Ireland. It was translated into English, and published,
if I mistake not, under the auspices of the facetious Tom D'Urfey, by
the title of 'Colley, my Cow.']

'Admirable, Cathleen!' cried the Chieftain; 'I must find you a handsome
husband among the clansmen one of these days.'

Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her companion.

In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain warmly
pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to see a grand
hunting party, in which he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed
to join. The charms of melody and beauty were too strongly impressed in
Edward's breast to permit his declining an invitation so pleasing.
It was agreed, therefore, that he should write a note to the Baron
of Bradwardine, expressing his intention to stay a fortnight at
Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward by the bearer (a GILLY of
the Chieftain's) any letters which might have arrived for him.

This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly extolled
as a gentleman and soldier. His character was touched with yet more
discrimination by Flora, who observed that he was the very model of the
old Scottish cavalier, with all his excellences and peculiarities. 'It
is a character, Captain Waverley, which is fast disappearing; for its
best point was a self-respect, which was never lost sight of till now.
But, in the present time, the gentlemen whose principles do not permit
them to pay court to the existing government are neglected and degraded,
and many conduct themselves accordingly; and, like some of the persons
you have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and companions inconsistent
with their birth and breeding. The ruthless proscription of party seems
to degrade the victims whom it brands, however unjustly. But let us hope
that a brighter day is approaching, when a Scottish country-gentleman
may be a scholar without the pedantry of our friend the Baron; a
sportsman, without the low habits of Mr. Falconer; and a judicious
improver of his property, without becoming a boorish two-legged steer
like Killancureit.'

Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time indeed has produced,
but in a manner very different from what she had in her mind.

The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the warmest encomium on
her person, manners, and mind, 'That man,' said Flora, 'will find an
inestimable treasure in the affections of Rose Bradwardine, who shall be
so fortunate as to become their object. Her very soul is in home, and
in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre.
Her husband will be to her what her father now is--the object of all
her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see nothing, and connect
herself with nothing, but by him and through him. If he is a man
of sense and virtue, she will sympathize in his sorrows, divert his
fatigue, and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a
churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she
will not long survive his unkindness. And, alas, how great is the chance
that some such unworthy lot may be that of my poor friend!--Oh, that I
were a queen this moment, and could command the most amiable and
worthy youth of my kingdom to accept happiness with the hand of Rose
Bradwardine!'

'I wish you would command her to accept mine EN ATTENDANT,' said Fergus,
laughing.

I don't know by what caprice it was that this wish, however jocularly
expressed, rather jarred on Edward's feelings, notwithstanding his
growing inclination to Flora, and his indifference to Miss Bradwardine.
This is one of the inexplicabilities of human nature, which we leave
without comment.

'Yours, brother?' answered Flora, regarding him steadily. 'No; you have
another bride--Honour; and the dangers you must run in pursuit of her
rival would break poor Rose's heart.'

With this discourse they reached the castle, and Waverley soon prepared
his dispatches for Tully-Veolan. As he knew the Baron was punctilious
in such matters, he was about to impress his billet with a seal on
which his armorial bearings were engraved, but he did not find it at his
watch, and thought he must have left it at Tully-Veolan. He mentioned
his loss, borrowing at the same time the family seal of the Chieftain.

'Surely,' said Miss Mac-Ivor, 'Donald Bean Lean would not--'

'My life for him, in such circumstances,' answered her
brother;--'besides, he would never have left the watch behind.'

'After all, Fergus,' said Flora,' and with every allowance, I am
surprised you can countenance that man.'

'I countenance him!--This kind sister of mine would persuade you,
Captain Waverley, that I take what the people of old used to call "a
steakraid," that is, a "collop of the foray," or, in plainer words,
a portion of the robber's booty, paid by him to the Laird, or Chief,
through whose grounds he drove his prey. Oh, it is certain, that unless
I can find some way to charm Flora's tongue, General Blakeney will send
a sergeant's party from Stirling (this he said with haughty and emphatic
irony) to seize Vich Ian Vohr, as they nickname me, in his own castle.'

'Now, Fergus, must not our guest be sensible that all this is folly
and affectation? You have men enough to serve you without enlisting a
banditti, and your own honour is above taint.--Why don't you send this
Donald Bean Lean, whom I hate for his smoothness and duplicity, even
more than for his rapine, out of your country at once? No cause should
induce me to tolerate such a character.'

'NO cause, Flora?' said the Chieftain, significantly.

'No cause, Fergus! not even that which is nearest to my heart. Spare it
the omen of such evil supporters!'

'Oh, but, sister,' rejoined the Chief, gaily, 'you don't consider
my respect for LA BELLE PASSION. Evan Dhu Maccombich is in love with
Donald's daughter, Alice, and you cannot expect me to disturb him in his
amours. Why, the whole clan would cry shame on me. You know it is one
of their wise sayings, that a kinsman is part of a man's body, but a
foster-brother is a piece of his heart.'

'Well, Fergus, there is no disputing with you; but I would all this may
end well.'

'Devoutly prayed, my dear and prophetic sister, and the best way in the
world to close a dubious argument.--But hear ye not the pipes, Captain
Waverley? Perhaps you will like better to dance to them in the hall,
than to be deafened with their harmony without taking part in the
exercise they invite us to.'

Waverley took Flora's hand. The dance, song, and merry-making proceeded,
and closed the day's entertainment at the castle of Vich Ian Vohr.
Edward at length retired, his mind agitated by a variety of new and
conflicting feelings, which detained him from rest for some time, in
that not unpleasing state of mind in which fancy takes the helm, and the
soul rather drifts passively along with the rapid and confused tide of
reflections, than exerts itself to encounter, systematize, or examine
them. At a late hour he fell asleep, and dreamed of Flora Mac-Ivor.



CHAPTER XXIV

A STAG-HUNT, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES

Shall this be a long or a short chapter?--This is a question in which
you, gentle reader, have no vote, however much you may be interested in
the consequences; just as you may (like myself) probably have nothing to
do with the imposing a new tax, excepting the trifling circumstance of
being obliged to pay it. More happy surely in the present case, since,
though it lies within my arbitrary power to extend my materials as
I think proper, I cannot call you into Exchequer if you do not think
proper to read my narrative. Let me therefore consider. It is true, that
the annals and documents in my hands say but little of this Highland
chase; but then I can find copious materials for description elsewhere.
There is old Lindsay of Pitscottie ready at my elbow, with his Athole
hunting, and his 'lofted and joisted palace of green timber; with all
kind of drink to be had in burgh and land, as ale, beer, wine, muscadel,
malvaise, hippocras, and aquavitae; with wheat-bread, main-bread,
ginge-bread, beef, mutton, lamb, veal, venison, goose, grice, capon,
coney, crane, swan, partridge, plover, duck, drake, brissel-cock,
pawnies, black-cock, muir-fowl, and capercailzies;' not forgetting the
'costly bedding, vaiselle, and napry,' and least of all the 'excelling
stewards, cunning barters, excellent cooks, and pottingars, with
confections and drugs for the desserts.' Besides the particulars which
may be thence gleaned for this Highland feast (the splendour of which
induced the Pope's legate to dissent from an opinion which he had
hitherto held, that Scotland, namely, was the--the--the latter end of
the world)--besides these, might I not illuminate my pages with Taylor
the Water Poet's hunting in the braes of Mar, where,

     Through heather, mosse, 'mong frogs, and bogs, and fogs,
     'Mongst craggy cliffs and thunder-battered hills,
     Hares, hinds, bucks, roes, are chased by men and dogs,
     Where two hours' hunting fourscore fat deer kills.
     Lowland, your sports are low as is your seat;
     The Highland games and minds are high and great.

But without further tyranny over my readers, or display of the extent of
my own reading, I shall content myself with borrowing a single incident
from the memorable hunting at Lude, commemorated in the ingenious Mr.
Gunn's Essay on the Caledonian Harp, and so proceed in my story with
all the brevity that my natural style of composition, partaking of
what scholars call the periphrastic and ambagitory, and the vulgar the
circumbendibus, will permit me.

The solemn hunting was delayed, from various causes, for about three
weeks. The interval was spent by Waverley with great satisfaction at
Glennaquoich; for the impression which Flora had made on his mind at
their first meeting grew daily stronger. She was precisely the character
to fascinate a youth of romantic imagination. Her manners, her language,
her talents for poetry and music, gave additional and varied influence
to her eminent personal charms. Even in her hours of gaiety, she was in
his fancy exalted above the ordinary daughters of Eve, and seemed only
to stoop for an instant to those topics of amusement and gallantry which
others appear to live for. In the neighbourhood of this enchantress,
while sport consumed the morning, and music and the dance led on
the hours of evening, Waverley became daily more delighted with his
hospitable landlord, and more enamoured of his bewitching sister.

At length, the period fixed for the grand hunting arrived, and Waverley
and the Chieftain departed for the place of rendezvous, which was a
day's journey to the northward of Glennaquoich. Fergus was attended
on this occasion by about three hundred of his clan, well armed, and
accoutred in their best fashion. Waverley complied so far with the
custom of the country as to adopt the trews (he could not be reconciled
to the kilt), brogues, and bonnet, as the fittest dress for the exercise
in which he was to be engaged, and which least exposed him to be stared
at as a stranger when they should reach the place of rendez-vous. They
found, on the spot appointed, several powerful Chiefs, to all of whom
Waverley was formally presented, and by all cordially received. Their
vassals and clansmen, a part of whose feudal duty it was to attend on
these parties, appeared in such numbers as amounted to a small army.
These active assistants spread through the country far and near, forming
a circle, technically called the TINCHEL, which, gradually closing,
drove the deer in herds together towards the glen where the Chiefs
and principal sportsmen lay in wait for them. In the meanwhile, these
distinguished personages bivouacked among the flowery heath, wrapped up
in their plaids; a mode of passing a summer's night which Waverley found
by no means unpleasant.

For many hours after sunrise, the mountain ridges and passes retained
their ordinary appearance of silence and solitude; and the Chiefs, with
their followers, amused themselves with various pastimes, in which the
joys of the shell, as Ossian has it, were not forgotten. 'Others apart
sat on a hill retired;' probably as deeply engaged in the discussion of
politics and news, as Milton's spirits in metaphysical disquisition.
At length signals of the approach of the game were descried and heard.
Distant shouts resounded from valley to valley, as the various parties
of Highlanders, climbing rocks, struggling through copses, wading
brooks, and traversing thickets, approached more and more near to each
other, and compelled the astonished deer, with the other wild animals
that fled before them, into a narrower circuit. Every now and then the
report of muskets was heard, repeated by a thousand echoes. The baying
of the dogs was soon added to the chorus, which grew ever louder and
more loud. At length the advanced parties of the deer began to show
themselves; and as the stragglers came bounding down the pass by two
or three at a time, the Chiefs showed their skill by distinguishing the
fattest deer, and their dexterity in bringing them down with their guns.
Fergus exhibited remarkable address, and Edward was also so fortunate as
to attract the notice and applause of the sportsmen.

But now the main body of the deer appeared at the head of the glen,
compelled into a very narrow compass, and presenting such a formidable
phalanx, that their antlers appeared at a distance, over the ridge of
the steep pass, like a leafless grove. Their number was very great, and
from a desperate stand which they made, with the tallest of the red-deer
stags arranged in front, in a sort of battle array, gazing on the group
which barred their passage down the glen, the more experienced sportsmen
began to augur danger. The work of destruction, however, now commenced
on all sides. Dogs and hunters were at work, and muskets and fusees
resounded from every quarter. The deer, driven to desperation, made at
length a fearful charge right upon the spot where the more distinguished
sportsmen had taken their stand. The word was given in Gaelic to fling
themselves upon their faces; but Waverley, on whose English ears the
signal was lost, had almost fallen a sacrifice to his ignorance of the
ancient language in which it was communicated. Fergus, observing his
danger, sprang up and pulled him with violence to the ground, just
as the whole herd broke down upon them. The tide being absolutely
irresistible, and wounds from a stag's horn highly dangerous, the
activity of the Chieftain may be considered, on this occasion, as having
saved his guest's life. [The thrust from the tynes, or branches, of the
stag's horns, was accounted far more dangerous than those of the boar's
tusk:--

     If thou be hurt with horn of stag, it brings thee to thy bier,
     But barber's hand shall boar's hurt heal; thereof have thou no
     fear.]

He detained him with a firm grasp until the whole herd of deer had
fairly run over them. Waverley then attempted to rise, but found that
he had suffered several very severe contusions; and, upon a further
examination, discovered that he had sprained his ankle violently.

This checked the mirth of the meeting, although the Highlanders,
accustomed to such incidents, and prepared for them, had suffered no
harm themselves. A wigwam was erected almost in an instant, where Edward
was deposited on a couch of heather. The surgeon, or he who assumed the
office, appeared to unite the characters of a leech and a conjurer. He
was an old smoke-dried Highlander, wearing a venerable grey beard,
and having for his sole garment a tartan frock, the skirts of which
descended to the knee; and, being undivided in front, made the vestment
serve at once for doublet and breeches. [This garb, which resembled
the dress often put on children in Scotland, called a polonie (i.e.
polonaise), is a very ancient modification of the Highland garb. It was,
in fact, the hauberk or shirt of mail, only composed of cloth instead of
rings of armour.] He observed great ceremony in approaching Edward;
and though our hero was writhing with pain, would not proceed to any
operation which might assuage it until he had perambulated his couch
three times, moving from east to west, according to the course of the
sun. This, which was called making the DEASIL, [Old Highlanders will
still make the deasil around those whom they wish well to. To go round a
person in the opposite direction, or wither-shins (German WIDER-SHINS),
is unlucky, and a sort of incantation.] both the leech and the
assistants seemed to consider as a matter of the last importance to the
accomplishment of a cure; and Waverley, whom pain rendered incapable of
expostulation, and who indeed saw no chance of its being attended to,
submitted in silence.

After this ceremony was duly performed, the old Esculapius let his
patient blood with a cupping-glass with great dexterity, and proceeded,
muttering all the while to himself in Gaelic, to boil on the fire
certain herbs, with which he compounded an embrocation. He then fomented
the parts which had sustained injury, never failing to murmur prayers or
spells, which of the two Waverley could not distinguish, as his ear only
caught the words GASPER-MELCHIOR-BALTHAZAR-MAX-PRAX-FAX, and similar
gibberish. The fomentation had a speedy effect in alleviating the pain
and swelling, which our hero imputed to the virtue of the herbs, or
the effect of the chafing, but which was by the bystanders unanimously
ascribed to the spells with which the operation had been accompanied.
Edward was given to understand, that not one of the ingredients had been
gathered except during the full moon, and that the herbalist had, while
collecting them, uniformly recited a charm, which in English ran thus:--

     Hail to thee, thou holy herb,
     That sprung on holy ground!
     All in the Mount Olivet
     First wert thou found:
     Thou art boot for many a bruise,
     And healest many a wound;
     In our Lady's blessed name,
     I take thee from the ground.'
     [This metrical spell, or something very like it, is preserved
     by Reginald Scott, in his work on Witchcraft.]

Edward observed, with some surprise, that even Fergus, notwithstanding
his knowledge and education, seemed to fall in with the superstitious
ideas of his countrymen, either because he deemed it impolitic to affect
scepticism on a matter of general belief, or more probably because, like
most men who do not think deeply or accurately on such subjects, he had
in his mind a reserve of superstition which balanced the freedom of
his expressions and practice upon other occasions. Waverley made no
commentary, therefore, on the manner of the treatment, but rewarded the
professor of medicine with a liberality beyond the utmost conception
of his wildest hopes. He uttered, on the occasion, so many incoherent
blessings in Gaelic and English, that Mac-Ivor, rather scandalized at
the excess of his acknowledgements, cut them short, by exclaiming, 'CEUD
MILE MHALLOICH ART ORT!' i.e. 'A hundred thousand curses on you!' and so
pushed the helper of men out of the cabin.

After Waverley was left alone, the exhaustion of pain and fatigue,--for
the whole day's exercise had been severe,--threw him into a profound,
but yet a feverish sleep, which he chiefly owed to an opiate draught
administered by the old Highlander from some decoction of herbs in his
pharmacopoeia.

Early the next morning, the purpose of their meeting being over, and
their sports damped by the untoward accident, in which Fergus and all
his friends expressed the greatest sympathy, it became a question how to
dispose of the disabled sportsman. This was settled by Mac-Ivor, who had
a litter prepared, of 'birch and hazel grey,'

     [On the morrow they made their biers,
     of birch and hazel grey.--CHEVY CHASE.]

which was borne by his people with such caution and dexterity as renders
it not improbable that they may have been the ancestors of some of
those sturdy Gael, who have now the happiness to transport the belles
of Edinburgh, in their sedan chairs, to ten routs in one evening.
When Edward was elevated upon their shoulders, he could not help being
gratified with the romantic effect produced by the breaking up of this
sylvan camp. [The author has been sometimes accused of confounding
fiction with reality. He therefore thinks it necessary to state, that
the circumstance of the hunting described in the text as preparatory to
the insurrection of 1745, is, so far as he knows, entirely imaginary.
But it is well known such a great hunting was held in the Forest of
Braemar, under the auspices of the Earl of Mar, as preparatory to the
Rebellion of 1715; and most of the Highland Chieftains who afterwards
engaged in that civil commotion were present on this occasion.]

The various tribes assembled, each at the pibroch of their native clan,
and each headed by their patriarchal ruler. Some, who had already begun
to retire, were seen winding up the hills, or descending the passes
which led to the scene of action, the sound of their bagpipes dying
upon the ear. Others made still a moving picture upon the narrow plain,
forming various changeful groups, their feathers and loose plaids waving
in the morning breeze, and their arms glittering in the rising sun. Most
of the Chiefs came to take farewell of Waverley, and to express their
anxious hope they might again, and speedily, meet; but the care of
Fergus abridged the ceremony of taking leave. At length, his own men
being completely assembled and mustered. Mac-Ivor commenced his march,
but not towards the quarter from which they had come. He gave Edward to
understand, that the greater part of his followers, now on the field,
were bound on a distant expedition, and that when he had deposited
him in the house of a gentleman, who he was sure would pay him every
attention, he himself should be under the necessity of accompanying them
the greater part of the way, but would lose no time in rejoining his
friend.

Waverley was rather surprised that Fergus had not mentioned this
ulterior destination when they set out upon the hunting-party; but his
situation did not admit of many interrogatories. The greater part of the
clansmen went forward under the guidance of old Ballenkeiroch and Evan
Dhu Maccombich, apparently in high spirits. A few remained for the
purpose of escorting the Chieftain, who walked by the side of Edward's
litter, and attended him with the most affectionate assiduity. About
noon, after a journey which the nature of the conveyance, the pain
of his bruises, and the roughness of the way, rendered inexpressibly
painful, Waverley was hospitably received into the house of a gentleman
related to Fergus, who had prepared for him every accommodation which
the simple habits of living, then universal in the Highlands, put in his
power. In this person, an old man about seventy, Edward admired a relic
of primitive simplicity. He wore no dress but what his estate afforded.
The cloth was the fleece of his own sheep, woven by his own servants,
and stained into tartan by the dyes produced from the herbs and lichens
of the hills around him. His linen was spun by his daughters and
maid-servants, from his own flax, nor did his table, though plentiful,
and varied with game and fish, offer an article but what was of native
produce.

Claiming himself no rights of clanship or vassalage, he was fortunate
in the alliance and protection of Vich Ian Vohr and other bold and
enterprising Chieftains, who protected him in the quiet unambitious life
he loved. It is true, the youth born on his grounds were often enticed
to leave him for the service of his more active friends; but a few old
servants and tenants used to shake their grey locks when they heard
their master censured for want of spirit, and observed, 'When the wind
is still, the shower falls soft.' This good old man, whose charity and
hospitality were unbounded, would have received Waverley with kindness,
had he been the meanest Saxon peasant, since his situation required
assistance. But his attention to a friend and guest of Vich Ian Vohr was
anxious and unremitted. Other embrocations were applied to the injured
limb, and new spells were put in practice. At length, after more
solicitude than was perhaps for the advantage of his health, Fergus took
farewell of Edward for a few days, when, he said, he would return to
Tomanrait, and hoped by that time Waverley would be able to ride one
of the Highland ponies of his landlord, and in that manner return to
Glennaquoich.

The next day, when his good old host appeared, Edward learned that his
friend had departed with the dawn, leaving none of his followers except
Callum Beg, the sort of foot-page who used to attend his person, and
who had it now in charge to wait upon Waverley. On asking his host if
he knew where the Chieftain was gone, the old man looked fixedly at him,
with something mysterious and sad in the smile which was his only
reply. Waverley repeated his question, to which his host answered in a
proverb,--

     What sent the messengers to hell,
     Was asking what they knew full well.'
     [Corresponding to the Lowland saying, 'Mony ane speirs the
     gate they ken fu' weel.]

He was about to proceed, but Callum Beg said, rather pertly, as Edward
thought, that 'Ta Tighearnach (i.e. the Chief) did not like ta Sassenagh
Duinhe-wassel to be pingled wi' mickle speaking, as she was na tat
weel.' From this Waverley concluded he should disoblige his friend by
inquiring of a stranger the object of a journey which he himself had not
communicated.

It is unnecessary to trace the progress of our hero's recovery. The
sixth morning had arrived, and he was able to walk about with a staff,
when Fergus returned with about a score of his men. He seemed in
the highest spirits, congratulated Waverley on his progress towards
recovery, and finding he was able to sit on horseback, proposed their
immediate return to Glennaquoich, Waverley joyfully acceded, for the
form of his fair mistress had lived in his dreams during all the time of
his confinement.

     Now he has ridden o'er moor and moss,
     O'er hill and many a glen.

Fergus, all the while, with his myrmidons, striding stoutly by his side,
or diverging to get a shot at a roe or a heath-cock. Waverley's bosom
beat thick when they approached the old tower of Ian nan Chaistel, and
could distinguish the fair form of its mistress advancing to meet them.

Fergus began immediately, with his usual high spirits, to exclaim, 'Open
your gates, incomparable princess, to the wounded Moor Abindarez, whom
Rodrigo de Narvez, constable of Antiquera, conveys to your castle; or
open them, if you like it better, to the renowned Marquis of Mantua, the
sad attendant of his half-slain friend, Baldovinos of the Mountain.--Ah,
long rest to thy soul, Cervantes! without quoting thy remnants, how
should I frame my language to befit romantic ears!'

Flora now advanced, and welcoming Waverley with much kindness, expressed
her regret for his accident, of which she had already heard the
particulars, and her surprise that her brother should not have taken
better care to put a stranger on his guard against the perils of the
sport in which he engaged him. Edward easily exculpated the Chieftain,
who, indeed, at his own personal risk, had probably saved his life.

This greeting over, Fergus said three or four words to his sister in
Gaelic. The tears instantly sprang to her eyes, but they seemed to be
tears of devotion and joy, for she looked up to heaven, and folded her
hands as in a solemn expression of prayer or gratitude. After the
pause of a minute, she presented to Edward some letters which had been
forwarded from Tully-Veolan during his absence, and, at the same time,
delivered some to her brother. To the latter she likewise gave three
or four numbers of the CALEDONIAN MERCURY, the only newspaper which was
then published to the north of the Tweed.

Both gentlemen retired to examine their dispatches, and Edward speedily
found that those which he had received contained matters of very deep
interest.



CHAPTER XXV

NEWS FROM ENGLAND

The letters which Waverley had hitherto received from his relations
in England, were not such as required any particular notice in this
narrative. His father usually wrote to him with the pompous affectation
of one who was too much oppressed by public affairs to find leisure to
attend to those of his own family. Now and then he mentioned persons of
rank in Scotland to whom he wished his son should pay some attention;
but Waverley, hitherto occupied by the amusements which he had found at
Tully-Veolan and Glennaquoich, dispensed with paying any attention to
hints so coldly thrown out, especially as distance, shortness of leave
of absence, and so forth, furnished a ready apology. But latterly the
burden of Mr. Richard Waverley's paternal epistles consisted in certain
mysterious hints of greatness and influence which he was speedily
to attain, and which would ensure his son's obtaining the most rapid
promotion, should he remain in the military service. Sir Everard's
letters were of a different tenor. They were short; for the good Baronet
was none of your illimitable correspondents, whose manuscript overflows
the folds of their large post paper, and leaves no room for the seal;
but they were kind and affectionate, and seldom concluded without some
allusion to our hero's stud, some question about the state of his purse,
and a special inquiry after such of his recruits as had preceded him
from Waverley-Honour. Aunt Rachel charged him to remember his principles
of religion, to take care of his health, to beware of Scotch mists,
which, she had heard, would wet an Englishman through and through;
never to go out at night without his great-coat; and, above all, to wear
flannel next to his skin.

Mr. Pembroke only wrote to our hero one letter, but it was of the bulk
of six epistles of these degenerate days, containing, in the moderate
compass of ten folio pages, closely written, a precis of a supplementary
quarto manuscript of ADDENDA, DELENDA, ET CORRIGENDA, in reference to
the two tracts with which he had presented Waverley. This he considered
as a mere sop in the pan to stay the appetite of Edward's curiosity,
until he should find an opportunity of sending down the volume itself,
which was much too heavy for the post, and which he proposed to
accompany with certain interesting pamphlets, lately published by his
friend in Little Britain, with whom he had kept up a sort of
literary correspondence, in virtue of which the library shelves of
Waverley-Honour were loaded with much trash, and a good round bill,
seldom summed in fewer than three figures, was yearly transmitted, in
which Sir Everard Waverley, of Waverley-Honour, Bart., was marked Dr.
to Jonathan Grubbet, bookseller and stationer, Little Britain. Such had
hitherto been the style of the letters which Edward had received from
England; but the packet delivered to him at Glennaquoich was of a
different and more interesting complexion. It would be impossible
for the reader, even were I to insert the letters at full length, to
comprehend the real cause of their being written, without a glance into
the interior of the British Cabinet at the period in question.

The Ministers of the day happened (no very singular event) to be divided
into two parties; the weakest of which, making up by assiduity of
intrigue their inferiority in real consequence, had of late acquired
some new proselytes, and with them the hope of superseding their rivals
in the favour of their sovereign, and overpowering them in the House
of Commons. Amongst others, they had thought it worth while to practise
upon Richard Waverley. This honest gentleman, by a grave mysterious
demeanour, an attention to the etiquette of business, rather more than
to its essence, a facility in making long dull speeches, consisting of
truisms and commonplaces, hashed up with a technical jargon of office,
which prevented the inanity of his orations from being discovered, had
acquired a certain name and credit in public life, and even established,
with many, the character of a profound politician; none of your shining
orators, indeed, whose talents evaporate in tropes of rhetoric and
dashes of wit, but one possessed of steady parts for business, which
would wear well, as the ladies say in choosing their silks, and ought
in all reason to be good for common and everyday use, since they were
confessedly formed of no holiday texture.

This faith had become so general, that the insurgent party in the
Cabinet of which we have made mention, after sounding Mr. Richard
Waverley, were so satisfied with his sentiments and abilities, as to
propose, that, in case of a certain revolution in the ministry, he
should take an ostensible place in the new order of things, not indeed
of the very first rank, but greatly higher, in point both of emolument
and influence, than that which he now enjoyed. There was no resisting
so tempting a proposal, notwithstanding that the Great Man, under whose
patronage he had enlisted and by whose banner he had hitherto stood
firm, was the principal object of the proposed attack by the new allies.
Unfortunately this fair scheme of ambition was blighted in the very bud,
by a premature movement. All the official gentlemen concerned in it,
who hesitated to take the part of a voluntary resignation, were informed
that the king had no further occasion for their services; and, in
Richard Waverley's case, which the Minister considered as aggravated
by ingratitude; dismissal was accompanied by something like personal
contempt and contumely. The public, and even the party of whom he shared
the fall, sympathized little in the disappointment of this selfish
and interested statesman; and he retired to the country under the
comfortable reflection, that he had lost, at the same time, character,
credit, and,--what he at least equally deplored,--emolument.

Richard Waverley's letter to his son upon this occasion was a
masterpiece of its kind. Aristides himself could not have made out a
harder case. An unjust monarch, and an ungrateful country, were the
burden of each rounded paragraph. He spoke of long services, and
unrequited sacrifices; though the former had been overpaid by his
salary, and nobody could guess in what the latter consisted, unless it
were in his deserting, not from conviction, but for the lucre of gain,
the Tory principles of his family. In the conclusion, his resentment was
wrought to such an excess by the force of his own oratory, that he could
not repress some threats of vengeance, however vague and impotent, and
finally acquainted his son with his pleasure that he should testify
his sense of the ill-treatment he had sustained, by throwing up his
commission as soon as the letter reached him. This, he said, was also
his uncle's desire, as he would himself intimate in due course.

Accordingly, the next letter which Edward opened was from Sir Everard.
His brother's disgrace seemed to have removed from his well-natured
bosom all recollection of their differences, and, remote as he was from
every means of learning that Richard's disgrace was in reality only the
just, as well as natural consequence, of his own unsuccessful intrigues,
the good but credulous Baronet at once set it down as a new and enormous
instance of the injustice of the existing Government. It was true, he
said, and he must not disguise it even from Edward, that his father
could not have sustained such an insult as was now, for the first time,
offered to one of his house, unless he had subjected himself to it by
accepting of an employment under the present system. Sir Everard had no
doubt that he now both saw and felt the magnitude of this error, and it
should be his (Sir Everard's) business, to take care that the cause of
his regret should not extend itself to pecuniary consequences. It
was enough for a Waverley to have sustained the public disgrace; the
patrimonial injury could easily be obviated by the head of their family.
But it was both the opinion of Mr. Richard Waverley and his own, that
Edward, the representative of the family of Waverley-Honour, should not
remain in a situation which subjected him also to such treatment as
that with which his father had been stigmatized. He requested his nephew
therefore to take the fittest, and, at the same time, the most speedy
opportunity, of transmitting his resignation to the War-Office, and
hinted, moreover, that little ceremony was necessary where so little had
been used to his father. He sent multitudinous greetings to the Baron of
Bradwardine.

A letter from Aunt Rachel spoke out even more plainly. She considered
the disgrace of brother Richard as the just reward of his forfeiting his
allegiance to a lawful, though exiled sovereign, and taking the oaths
to an alien; a concession which her grandfather, Sir Nigel Waverley,
refused to make, either to the Roundhead Parliament or to Cromwell, when
his life and fortune stood in the utmost extremity. She hoped her dear
Edward would follow the footsteps of his ancestors, and as speedily as
possible get rid of the badge of servitude to the usurping family, and
regard the wrongs sustained by his father as an admonition from Heaven,
that every desertion of the line of loyalty becomes its own punishment.
She also concluded with her respects to Mr. Bradwardine, and begged
Waverley would inform her whether his daughter, Miss Rose, was old
enough to wear a pair of very handsome ear-rings, which she proposed
to send as a token of her affection. The good lady also desired to be
informed whether Mr. Bradwardine took as much Scotch snuff, and danced
as unweariedly, as he did when he was at Waverley-Honour about thirty
years ago.

These letters, as might have been expected, highly excited Waverley's
indignation. From the desultory style of his studies, he had not any
fixed political opinion to place in opposition to the movements of
indignation which he felt at his father's supposed wrongs. Of the real
cause of his disgrace, Edward was totally ignorant; nor had his habits
at all led him to investigate the politics of the period in which he
lived, or remark the intrigues in which his father had been so actively
engaged. Indeed, any impressions which he had accidentally adopted
concerning the parties of the times, were (owing to the society in which
he had lived at Waverley-Honour) of a nature rather unfavourable to
the existing government and dynasty. He entered, therefore, without
hesitation, into the resentful feeling of the relations who had the best
title to dictate his conduct; and not perhaps the less willingly, when
he remembered the tedium of his quarters, and the inferior figure which
he had made among the officers of his regiment. If he could have had
any doubt upon the subject, it would have been decided by the following
letter from his commanding-officer, which, as it is very short, shall be
inserted verbatim:--

'SIR,

'Having carried somewhat beyond the line of my duty an indulgence which
even the lights of nature, and much more those of Christianity, direct
towards errors which may arise from youth and inexperience, and that
altogether without effect, I am reluctantly compelled, at the present
crisis, to use the only remaining remedy which is in my power. You are
therefore, hereby commanded to repair to--, the head-quarters of the
regiment, within three days after the date of this letter. If you shall
fail to do so, I must report you to the War-Office as absent without
leave, and also take other steps, which will be disagreeable to you, as
well as to, Sir,

'Your obedient Servant,

'J. GARDINER, Lieut.-Col.

'Commanding the--Regt. Dragoons.'

Edward's blood boiled within him as he read this letter. He had been
accustomed from his very infancy to possess, in a great measure, the
disposal of his own time, and thus acquired habits which rendered the
rules of military discipline as unpleasing to him in this as they were
in some other respects. An idea that in his own case they would not be
enforced in a very rigid manner had also obtained full possession of his
mind, and had hitherto been sanctioned by the indulgent conduct of his
lieutenant-colonel. Neither had anything occurred, to his knowledge,
that should have induced his commanding-officer, without any other
warning than the hints we noticed at the end of the fourteenth chapter,
so suddenly to assume a harsh, and, as Edward deemed it, so insolent
a tone of dictatorial authority. Connecting it with the letters he had
just received from his family, he could not but suppose that it was
designed to make him feel, in his present situation, the same pressure
of authority which had been exercised in his father's case, and that the
whole was a concerted scheme to depress and degrade every member of the
Waverley family.

Without a pause, therefore, Edward wrote a few cold lines, thanking his
lieutenant-colonel for past civilities, and expressing regret that he
should have chosen to efface the remembrance of them, by assuming a
different tone towards him. The strain of his letter, as well as what
he (Edward) conceived to be his duty, in the present crisis, called upon
him to lay down his commission; and he therefore enclosed the formal
resignation of a situation which subjected him to so unpleasant a
correspondence, and requested Colonel Gardiner would have the goodness
to forward it to the proper authorities.

Having finished this magnanimous epistle, he felt somewhat uncertain
concerning the terms in which his resignation ought to be expressed,
upon which subject he resolved to consult Fergus Mac-Ivor. It may
be observed in passing, that the bold and prompt habits of thinking,
acting, and speaking, which distinguished this young Chieftain, had
given him a considerable ascendancy over the mind of Waverley. Endowed
with at least equal powers of understanding, and with much finer genius,
Edward yet stooped to the bold and decisive activity of an intellect
which was sharpened by the habit of acting on a preconceived and regular
system, as well as by extensive knowledge of the world.

When Edward found his friend, the latter had still in his hand the
newspaper which he had perused, and advanced to meet him with the
embarrassment of one who has unpleasing news to communicate. 'Do your
letters, Captain Waverley, confirm the unpleasing information which I
find in this paper?'

He put the paper into his hand, where his father's disgrace was
registered in the most bitter terms, transferred probably from some
London journal. At the end of the paragraph was this remarkable
innuendo:--

'We understand, that "this same RICHARD, who hath done all this," is
not the only example of the WAVERING HONOUR of W-v-rl-y H-n-r. See the
GAZETTE of this day.'

With hurried and feverish apprehension our hero turned to the place
referred to, and found therein recorded, 'Edward Waverley, captain
in--regiment dragoons, superseded for absence without leave:' and in
the list of military promotions, referring to the same regiment, he
discovered this further article, 'Lieut. Julius Butler, to be captain,
vice Edward Waverley, superseded.'

Our hero's bosom glowed with the resentment which undeserved and
apparently premeditated insult was calculated to excite in the bosom
of one who had aspired after honour, and was thus wantonly held up to
public scorn and disgrace. Upon comparing the date of his colonel's
letter with that of the article in the GAZETTE, he perceived that his
threat of making a report upon his absence had been literally fulfilled,
and without inquiry, as it seemed, whether Edward had either received
his summons, or was disposed to comply with it. The whole, therefore,
appeared a formed plan to degrade him in the eyes of the public; and the
idea of its having succeeded filled him with such bitter emotions, that,
after various attempts to conceal them, he at length threw himself into
Mac-Ivor's arms, and gave vent to tears of shame and indignation.

It was none of this Chieftain's faults to be indifferent to the wrongs
of his friends; and for Edward, independent of certain plans with which
he was connected, he felt a deep and sincere interest. The proceeding
appeared as extraordinary to him as it had done to Edward. He indeed
knew of more motives than Waverley was privy to, for the peremptory
order that he should join his regiment. But that, without further
inquiry into the circumstances of a necessary delay, the commanding
officer, in contradiction to his known and established character, should
have proceeded in so harsh and unusual a manner, was a mystery which he
could not penetrate. He soothed our hero, however, to the best of
his power, and began to turn his thoughts on revenge for his insulted
honour.

Edward eagerly grasped at the idea. 'Will you carry a message for me to
Colonel Gardiner, my dear Fergus, and oblige me for ever?'

Fergus paused. 'It is an act of friendship which you should command,
could it be useful, or lead to the righting your honour; but in the
present case, I doubt if your commanding-officer would give you the
meeting on account of his having taken measures, which, however harsh
and exasperating, were still within the strict bounds of his duty.
Besides, Gardiner is a precise Huguenot, and has adopted certain
ideas about the sinfulness of such rencontres, from which it would be
impossible to make him depart, especially as his courage is beyond
all suspicion. And besides, I--I--to say the truth--I dare not at this
moment, for some very weighty reasons, go near any of the military
quarters or garrisons belonging to this government.'

'And am I,' said Waverley, 'to sit down quiet and contented under the
injury I have received?'

'That will I never advise, my friend,' replied Mac-Ivor. 'But I would
have vengeance to fall on the head, not on the hand; on the tyrannical
and oppressive Government which designed and directed these premeditated
and reiterated insults, not on the tools of office which they employed
in the execution of the injuries they aimed at you.'

'On the Government!' said Waverley.

'Yes,' replied the impetuous Highlander, 'on the usurping House of
Hanover, whom your grandfather would no more have served than he would
have taken wages of red-hot gold from the great fiend of hell!'

'But since the time of my grandfather, two generations of this dynasty
have possessed the throne,' said Edward, coolly.

'True,' replied the Chieftain; 'and because we have passively given them
so long the means of showing their native character,--because both you
and I myself have lived in quiet submission, have even truckled to the
times so far as to accept commissions under them, and thus have given
them an opportunity of disgracing us publicly by resuming them,--are
we not on that account to resent injuries which our fathers only
apprehended, but which we have actually sustained? Or is the cause of
the unfortunate Stuart family become less just, because their title has
devolved upon an heir who is innocent of the charges of misgovernment
brought against his father? Do you remember the lines of your favourite
poet?--

     Had Richard unconstrained resigned the throne,
     A king can give no more than is his own;
     The title stood entailed had Richard had a son.

You see, my dear Waverley, I can quote poetry as well as Flora and
you. But come, clear your moody brow, and trust to me to show you an
honourable road to a speedy and glorious revenge. Let us seek Flora,
who perhaps has more news to tell us of what has occurred during
our absence. She will rejoice to hear that you are relieved of your
servitude. But first add a postcript to your letter, marking the time
when you received this calvinistical Colonel's first summons, and
express your regret that the hastiness of his proceedings prevented your
anticipating them by sending your resignation. Then let him blush for
his injustice.'

The letter was sealed accordingly, covering a formal resignation of the
commission, and Mac-Ivor dispatched it with some letters of his own by a
special messenger, with charge to put them into the nearest post office
in the Lowlands.



CHAPTER XXVI

AN ECLAIRCISSEMENT

The hint which the Chieftain had thrown out respecting Flora was not
unpremeditated. He had observed with great satisfaction the growing
attachment of Waverley to his sister, nor did he see any bar to their
union, excepting the situation which Waverley's father held in the
ministry, and Edward's own commission in the army of George II. These
obstacles were now removed, and in a manner which apparently paved the
way for the son's becoming reconciled to another allegiance. In every
other respect the match would be most eligible. The safety, happiness,
and honourable provision of his sister, whom he dearly loved, appeared
to be ensured by the proposed union; and his heart swelled when he
considered how his own interest would be exalted in the eyes of the
ex-monarch to whom he had dedicated his service, by an alliance with one
of those ancient, powerful, and wealthy English families of the steady
Cavalier faith, to awaken whose decayed attachment to the Stuart family
was now a matter of such vital importance to the Stuart cause. Nor could
Fergus perceive any obstacle to such a scheme. Waverley's attachment
was evident; and as his person was handsome, and his taste apparently
coincided with her own, he anticipated no opposition on the part of
Flora. Indeed, between his ideas of patriarchal power, and those
which he had acquired in France respecting the disposal of females in
marriage, any opposition from his sister, dear as she was to him, would
have been the last obstacle on which he would have calculated, even had
the union been less eligible.

Influenced by these feelings, the Chief now led Waverley in quest of
Miss Mac-Ivor, not without the hope that the present agitation of his
guest's spirits might give him courage to cut short what Fergus termed
the romance of the courtship. They found Flora, with her faithful
attendants, Una and Cathleen, busied in preparing what appeared to
Waverley to be white bridal favours. Disguising as well as he could
the agitation of his mind, Waverley asked for what joyful occasion Miss
Mac-Ivor made such ample preparation.

'It is for Fergus's bridal,' she said, smiling.

'Indeed!' said Edward; 'he has kept his secret well. I hope he will
allow me to be his bride's-man.'

'That is a man's office, but not yours, as Beatrice says,' retorted
Flora.

'And who is the fair lady, may I be permitted to ask, Miss Mac-Ivor?'

'Did not I tell you long since, that Fergus wooed no bride but Honour?'
answered Flora.

'And am I then incapable of being his assistant and counsellor in the
pursuit of honour?' said our hero, colouring deeply. 'Do I rank so low
in your opinion?'

'Far from it, Captain Waverley. I would to God you were of our
determination! and made use of the expression which displeased you,
solely

     Because you are not of our quality,
     But stand against us as an enemy.'

'That time is past, sister,' said Fergus; 'and you may wish Edward
Waverley (no longer captain) joy of being freed from the slavery to an
usurper, implied in that sable and ill-omened emblem.'

'Yes,' said Waverley, undoing the cockade from his hat, 'it has pleased
the king who bestowed this badge upon me, to resume it in a manner which
leaves me little reason to regret his service.'

'Thank God for that!' cried the enthusiast;--'and oh that they may be
blind enough to treat every man of honour who serves them with the
same indignity, that I may have less to sigh for when the struggle
approaches!

'And now, sister,' said the Chieftain, 'replace his cockade with one of
a more lively colour, I think it was the fashion of the ladies of yore
to arm and send forth their knights to high achievement.'

'Not,' replied the lady, 'till the knight adventurer had well weighed
the justice and the danger of the cause, Fergus. Mr. Waverley is just
now too much agitated by feelings of recent emotion, for me to press
upon him a resolution of consequence.'

Waverley felt half alarmed at the thought of adopting the badge of what
was by the majority of the kingdom esteemed rebellion, yet he could
not disguise his chagrin at the coldness with which Flora parried her
brother's hint. 'Miss Mac-Ivor, I perceive, thinks the knight unworthy
of her encouragement and favour,' said he, somewhat bitterly.

'Not so, Mr. Waverley,' she replied, with great sweetness. 'Why should I
refuse my brother's valued friend a boon which I am distributing to his
whole clan? Most willingly would I enlist every man of honour in the
cause to which my brother has devoted himself. But Fergus has taken his
measures with his eyes open. His life has been devoted to this cause
from his cradle; with him its call is sacred, were it even a summons to
the tomb. But how can I wish you, Mr. Waverley, so new to the world, so
far from every friend who might advise and ought to influence you,--in
a moment too of sudden pique and indignation,--how can I wish you to
plunge yourself at once into so desperate an enterprise?'

Fergus, who did not understand these delicacies, strode through the
apartment biting his lip, and then, with a constrained smile, said,
'Well, sister, I leave you to act your new character of mediator between
the Elector of Hanover and the subjects of your lawful sovereign and
benefactor,' and left the room.

There was a painful pause, which was at length broken by Miss Mac-Ivor.
'My brother is unjust,' she said, 'because he can bear no interruption
that seems to thwart his loyal zeal.'

'And do you not share his ardour?' asked Waverley.

'Do I not?' answered Flora--'God knows mine exceeds his, if that
be possible. But I am not, like him, rapt by the bustle of military
preparation, and the infinite detail necessary to the present
undertaking, beyond consideration of the grand principles of justice and
truth, on which our enterprise is grounded; and these, I am certain, can
only be furthered by measures in themselves true and just. To operate
upon your present feelings, my dear Mr. Waverley, to induce you to an
irretrievable step, of which you have not considered either the justice
or the danger, is, in my poor judgement, neither the one nor the other.'

'Incomparable Flora!' said Edward, taking her hand, 'how much do I need
such a monitor!'

'A better one by far,' said Flora, gently withdrawing her hand, 'Mr.
Waverley will always find in his own bosom, when he will give its small
still voice leisure to be heard.'

'No, Miss Mac-Ivor, I dare not hope it. A thousand circumstances of
fatal self-indulgence have made me the creature rather of imagination
than reason. Durst I but hope--could I but think that you would deign
to be to me that affectionate, that condescending friend, who would
strengthen me to redeem my errors, my future life'--

'Hush, my dear sir! now you carry your joy at escaping the hands of a
Jacobite recruiting officer to an unparalleled excess of gratitude.'

'Nay, dear Flora, trifle with me no longer; you cannot mistake the
meaning of those feelings which I have almost involuntarily expressed;
and since I have broken the barrier of silence, let me profit by my
audacity--Or may I, with your permission, mention to your brother'--

'Not for the world, Mr. Waverley!'

'What am I to understand?' said Edward. 'Is there any fatal bar--has any
prepossession'--

'None, sir,' answered Flora. 'I owe it to myself to say, that I never
yet saw the person on whom I thought with reference to the present
subject.'

'The shortness of our acquaintance, perhaps--If Miss Mac-Ivor will deign
to give me time--'

'I have not even that excuse. Captain Waverley's character is so
open--is, in short, of that nature, that it cannot be misconstrued,
either in its strength or its weakness.'

'And for that weakness you despise me?' said Edward.

'Forgive me, Mr. Waverley, and remember it is but within this
half-hour that there existed between us a barrier of a nature to me
insurmountable, since I never could think of an officer in the
service of the Elector of Hanover in any other light than as a casual
acquaintance. Permit me then to arrange my ideas upon so unexpected a
topic, and in less than an hour I will be ready to give you such reasons
for the resolution I shall express, as may be satisfactory at least,
if not pleasing to you.' So saying, Flora withdrew, leaving Waverley to
meditate upon the manner in which she had received his addresses.

Ere he could make up his mind whether to believe his suit had been
acceptable or no, Fergus re-entered the apartment. 'What, A LA MORT,
Waverley?' he cried. 'Come down with me to the court, and you shall see
a sight worth all the tirades of your romances. An hundred firelocks, my
friend, and as many broadswords, just arrived from good friends; and two
or three hundred stout fellows almost fighting which shall first possess
them.--But let me look at you closer--Why, a true Highlander would say
you had been blighted by an evil eye.--Or can it be this silly girl that
has thus blanked your spirit?--Never mind her, dear Edward; the wisest
of her sex are fools in what regards the business of life.'

'Indeed, my good friend,' answered Waverley, 'all that I can charge
against your sister is, that she is too sensible, too reasonable.'

'If that be all, I ensure you for a louis d'or against the mood lasting
four-and-twenty hours. No woman was ever steadily sensible for that
period; and I will engage, if that will please you, Flora shall be
as unreasonable to-morrow as any of her sex. You must learn, my dear
Edward, to consider women EN MOUSQUETAIRE.' So saying, he seized
Waverley's arm, and dragged him off to review his military preparations.



CHAPTER XXVII

UPON THE SAME SUBJECT

Fergus Mac-Ivor had too much tact and delicacy to renew the subject
which he had interrupted. His head was, or appeared to be, so full of
guns, broadswords, bonnets, canteens, and tartan hose, that Waverley
could not for some time draw his attention to any other topic.

'Are you to take the field so soon, Fergus,' he asked, 'that you are
making all these martial preparations?'

'When we have settled that you go with me, you shall know all; but
otherwise, the knowledge might rather be prejudicial to you.'

'But are you serious in your purpose, with such inferior forces, to rise
against an established government? It is mere frenzy.'

'LAISSEZ FAIRE A DON ANTOINE--I shall take good care of myself. We shall
at least use the compliment of Conan, who never got a stroke but he gave
one. I would not, however,' continued the Chieftain, 'have you think me
mad enough to stir till a favourable opportunity: I will not slip my dog
before the game's afoot. But once more, will you join with us, and you
shall know all?'

'How can I?' said Waverley; 'I who have so lately held that commission
which is now posting back to those that gave it? My accepting it implied
a promise of fidelity, and an acknowledgement of the legality of the
government.

'A rash promise,' answered Fergus, 'is not a steel handcuff; it may be
shaken off, especially when it was given under deception, and has been
repaid by insult. But if you cannot immediately make up your mind to a
glorious revenge, go to England, and ere you cross the Tweed, you will
hear tidings that will make the world ring; and if Sir Everard be the
gallant old cavalier I have heard him described by some of our HONEST
gentlemen of the year one thousand seven hundred and fifteen, he will
find you a better horse-troop and a better cause than you have lost.'

'But your sister, Fergus?'

'Out, hyperbolical fiend,' replied the Chief, laughing; 'how vexest thou
this man!--Speak'st thou of nothing but of ladies?'

'Nay, be serious, my dear friend,' said Waverley; 'I feel that the
happiness of my future life must depend upon the answer which Miss
Mac-Ivor shall make to what I ventured to tell her this morning.'

'And is this your very sober earnest,' said Fergus, more gravely, 'or
are we in the land of romance and fiction?'

'My earnest, undoubtedly. How could you suppose me jesting on such a
subject?'

'Then, in very sober earnest,' answered his friend, 'I am very glad to
hear it; and so highly do I think of Flora, that; you are the only man
in England for whom I would say so much.--But before you shake my hand
so warmly, there is more to be considered.--Your own family--will they
approve your connecting yourself with the sister of a highborn Highland
beggar?'

'My uncle's situation,' said Waverley, 'his general opinions, and his
uniform indulgence, entitle me to say, that birth and personal qualities
are all he would look to in such a connexion. And where can I find both
united in such excellence as in your sister?'

'Oh, nowhere!--CELA VA SANS DIRE,' replied Fergus with a smile. 'But
your father will expect a father's prerogative in being consulted.'

'Surely; but his late breach with the ruling powers removes all
apprehension of objection on his part, especially as I am convinced that
my uncle will be warm in my cause.'

'Religion, perhaps,' said Fergus, 'may make obstacles, though we are not
bigoted Catholics.'

'My grandmother was of the Church of Rome, and her religion was never
objected to by my family.--Do not think of MY friends, dear Fergus; let
me rather have your influence where it may be more necessary to remove
obstacles--I mean with your lovely sister.'

'My lovely sister,' replied Fergus, 'like her loving brother, is very
apt to have a pretty decisive will of her own, by which, in this case,
you must be ruled; but you shall not want my interest, nor my counsel.
And, in the first place, I will give you one hint--loyalty is her ruling
passion; and since she could spell an English book, she has been in love
with the memory of the gallant Captain Wogan, who renounced the service
of the usurper Cromwell to join the standard of Charles II, marched a
handful of cavalry from London to the Highlands to join Middleton, then
in arms for the king, and at length died gloriously in the royal cause.
Ask her to show you some verses she made on his history and fate; they
have been much admired, I assure you. The next point is--I think I
saw Flora go up towards the waterfall a short time since--follow, man,
follow! don't allow the garrison time to strengthen its purposes of
resistance--ALERTE A LA MURAILLE! Seek Flora out, and learn her decision
as soon as you can--and Cupid go with you, while I go to look over belts
and cartouch-boxes.'

Waverley ascended the glen with an anxious and throbbing heart. Love,
with all its romantic train of hopes, fears, and wishes, was mingled
with other feelings of a nature less easily defined. He could not but
remember how much this morning had changed his fate, and into what a
complication of perplexity it was likely to plunge him. Sunrise had seen
him possessed of an esteemed rank in the honourable profession of
arms, his father to all appearance rapidly rising in the favour of
his sovereign;--all this had passed away like a dream--he himself was
dishonoured, his father disgraced, and he had become involuntarily the
confidant at least, if not the accomplice, of plans dark, deep, and
dangerous, which must infer either subversion of the government he had
so lately served, or the destruction of all who had participated in
them, Should Flora even listen to his suit favourably, what prospect was
there of its being brought to a happy termination, amid the tumult of
an impending insurrection? Or how could he make the selfish request that
she should leave Fergus, to whom she was so much attached, and, retiring
with him to England, wait, as a distant spectator, the success of her
brother's undertaking, or the ruin of all his hopes and fortunes!--Or,
on the other hand, to engage himself, with no other aid than his single
arm, in the dangerous and precipitate counsels of the Chieftain,--to be
whirled along by him, the partaker of all his desperate and impetuous
motions, renouncing almost the power of judging, or deciding upon the
rectitude or prudence of his actions,--this was no pleasing prospect for
the secret pride of Waverley to stoop to. And yet what other conclusion
remained, saving the rejection of his addresses by Flora, an alternative
not to be thought of in the present high-wrought state of his feelings,
with anything short of mental agony. Pondering the doubtful and
dangerous prospect before him, he at length arrived near the cascade,
where, as Fergus had augured, he found Flora seated.

She was quite alone; and, as soon as she observed his approach, she
arose, and came to meet him. Edward attempted to say something within
the verge of ordinary compliment and conversation, but found himself
unequal to the task. Flora seemed at first equally embarrassed, but
recovered herself more speedily, and (an unfavourable augury for
Waverley's suit) was the first to enter upon the subject of their last
interview, 'It is too important, in every point of view, Mr. Waverley,
to permit me to leave you in doubt on my sentiments.'

'Do not speak them speedily,' said Waverley, much agitated, 'unless they
are such as, I fear from your manner, I must not dare to anticipate. Let
time--let my future conduct--let your brother's influence'--

'Forgive me, Mr. Waverley,' said Flora, her complexion a little
heightened, but her voice firm and composed. 'I should incur my own
heavy censure, did I delay expressing my sincere conviction that I can
never regard you otherwise than as a valued friend. I should do you
the highest injustice did I conceal my sentiments for a moment. I see
I distress you, and I grieve for it, but better now than later; and oh,
better a thousand times, Mr. Waverley, that you should feel a present
momentary disappointment, than the long and heart-sickening griefs which
attend a rash and ill-assorted marriage!'

'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley, 'why should you anticipate such
consequences from a union where birth is equal, where fortune is
favourable, where, if I may venture to say so, the tastes are similar,
where you allege no preference for another, where you even express a
favourable opinion of him whom you reject?'

'Mr. Waverley, I HAVE that favourable opinion,' answered Flora; 'and so
strongly, that though I would rather have been silent on the grounds of
my resolution, you shall command them, if you exact such a mark of my
esteem and confidence.'

She sat down upon a fragment of rock, and Waverley, placing himself near
her, anxiously pressed for the explanation she offered.

'I dare hardly,' she said, 'tell you the situation of my feelings, they
are so different from those usually ascribed to young women at my period
of life; and I dare hardly touch upon what I conjecture to be the nature
of yours, lest I should give offence where I would willingly administer
consolation. For myself, from my infancy till this day, I have had but
one wish--the restoration of my royal benefactors to their rightful
throne. It is impossible to express to you the devotion of my feelings
to this single subject; and I will frankly confess, that it has so
occupied my mind as to exclude every thought respecting what is called
my own settlement in life. Let me but live to see the day of that happy
restoration, and a Highland cottage, a French convent, or an English
palace, will be alike indifferent to me.'

'But, dearest Flora, how is your enthusiastic zeal for the exiled family
inconsistent with my happiness?'

'Because you seek, or ought to seek in the object of your attachment,
a heart whose principal delight should be in augmenting your domestic
felicity, and returning your affection, even to the height of romance.
To a man of less keen sensibility, and less enthusiastic tenderness of
disposition, Flora Mac-Ivor might give content, if not happiness; for
were the irrevocable words spoken, never would she be deficient in the
duties which she vowed.'

'And why--why, Miss Mac-Ivor, should you think yourself a more valuable
treasure to one who is less capable of loving, of admiring you, than to
me?'

'Simply because the tone of our affections would be more in unison, and
because his more blunted sensibility would not require the return of
enthusiasm which I have not to bestow. But you, Mr. Waverley, would for
ever refer to the idea of domestic happiness which your imagination
is capable of painting, and whatever fell short of that ideal
representation would be construed into coolness and indifference, while
you might consider the enthusiasm with which I regarded the success of
the royal family as defrauding your affection of its due return.'

'In other words, Miss Mac-Ivor, you cannot love me?' said her suitor,
dejectedly.

'I could esteem you, Mr. Waverley, as much, perhaps more, than any man
I have ever seen; but I cannot love you as you ought to be loved. Oh!
do not, for your own sake, desire so hazardous an experiment! The woman
whom you marry ought to have affections and opinions moulded upon yours.
Her studies ought to be your studies;--her wishes, her feelings, her
hopes, her fears, should all mingle with yours. She should enhance your
pleasures, share your sorrows, and cheer your melancholy.'

'And, why will not you, Miss Mac-Ivor, who can so well describe a happy
union,--why will not you be yourself the person you describe?'

'Is it possible you do not yet comprehend me?' answered Flora. 'Have I
not told you, that every keener sensation of my mind is bent exclusively
towards an event, upon which, indeed, I have no power but those of my
earnest prayers?'

'And might not the granting the suit I solicit,' said Waverley, too
earnest on his purpose to consider what he was about to say, 'even
advance the interest to which you have devoted yourself? My family is
wealthy and powerful, inclined in principles to the Stuart race, and
should a favourable opportunity'--

'A favourable opportunity!' said Flora, somewhat scornfully,--'inclined
in principles!--Can such lukewarm adherence be honourable to yourselves,
or gratifying to your lawful sovereign?--Think, from my present
feelings, what I should suffer when I held the place of member in a
family where the rights which I hold most sacred are subjected to cold
discussion, and only deemed worthy of support when they shall appear on
the point of triumphing without it!'

'Your doubts,' quickly replied Waverley, 'are unjust as far as concerns
myself. The cause that I shall assert, I dare support through every
danger, as undauntedly as the boldest who draws sword in its behalf.'

'Of that,' answered Flora, 'I cannot doubt for a moment. But consult
your own good sense and reason, rather than a prepossession hastily
adopted, probably only because you have met a young woman possessed of
the usual accomplishments, in a sequestered and romantic situation. Let
your part in this great and perilous drama rest upon conviction, and not
on a hurried, and probably a temporary feeling.'

Waverley attempted to reply, but his words failed him. Every sentiment
that Flora had uttered vindicated the strength of his attachment; for
even her loyalty, although wildly enthusiastic, was generous and noble,
and disdained to avail itself of any indirect means of supporting the
cause to which she was devoted.

After walking a little way in silence down the path, Flora thus resumed
the conversation.--'One word more, Mr. Waverley, ere we bid farewell to
this topic for ever; and forgive my boldness if that word have the air
of advice. My brother Fergus is anxious that you should join him in his
present enterprise. But do not consent to this: you could not, by your
single exertions, further his success, and you would inevitably share
his fall, if it be God's pleasure that fall he must. Your character
would also suffer irretrievably. Let me beg you will return to your
own country; and, having publicly freed yourself from every tie to the
usurping government, I trust you will see cause, and find opportunity,
to serve your injured sovereign with effect, and stand forth, as your
loyal ancestors, at the head of your natural followers and adherents, a
worthy representative of the house of Waverley.'

'And should I be so happy as thus to distinguish myself, might I not
hope'--

'Forgive my interruption,' said Flora. 'The present time only is ours,
and I can but explain to you with candour the feelings which I now
entertain; how they might be altered by a train of events too favourable
perhaps to be hoped for, it were in vain even to conjecture: only be
assured, Mr. Waverley, that, after my brother's honour and happiness,
there is none which I shall more sincerely pray for than for yours.'

With these words she parted from him, for they were now arrived where
two paths separated. Waverley reached the castle amidst a medley of
conflicting passions. He avoided any private interview with Fergus, as
he did not find himself able either to encounter his raillery, or reply
to his solicitations. The wild revelry of the feast, for Mac-Ivor kept
open table for his clan, served in some degree to stun reflection. When
their festivity was ended, he began to consider how he should again
meet Miss Mac-Ivor after the painful and interesting explanation of the
morning. But Flora did not appear. Fergus, whose eyes flashed when he
was told by Cathleen that her mistress designed to keep her apartment
that evening, went himself in quest of her; but apparently his
remonstrances were in vain, for he returned with a heightened
complexion, and manifest symptoms of displeasure. The rest of the
evening passed on without any allusion, on the part either of Fergus or
Waverley, to the subject which engrossed the reflections of the latter,
and perhaps of both.

When retired to his own apartment, Edward endeavoured to sum up the
business of the day. That the repulse he had received from Flora would
be persisted in for the present, there was no doubt. But could he hope
for ultimate success in case circumstances permitted the renewal of his
suit? Would the enthusiastic loyalty, which at this animating moment
left no room for a softer passion, survive, at least in its engrossing
force, the success or the failure of the present political machinations?
And if so, could he hope that the interest which she had acknowledged
him to possess in her favour, might be improved into a warmer
attachment? He taxed his memory to recall every word she had used, with
the appropriate looks and gestures which had enforced them, and ended
by finding himself in the same state of uncertainty. It was very late
before sleep brought relief to the tumult of his mind, after the most
painful and agitating day which he had ever passed.



CHAPTER XXVIII

A LETTER FROM TULLY-VEOLAN

In the morning, when Waverley's troubled reflections had for some time
given way to repose, there came music to his dreams, but not the voice
of Selma. He imagined himself transported back to Tully-Veolan, and that
he heard Davie Gellatley singing in the court those matins which used
generally to be the first sounds that disturbed his repose while a
guest of the Baron of Bradwardine. The notes which suggested this
vision continued, and waxed louder, until Edward awoke in earnest. The
illusion, however, did not seem entirely dispelled. The apartment was
in the fortress of Ian nan Chaistel, but it was still the voice of Davie
Gellatley that made the following lines resound under the window:--

     My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
     My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
     A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe,
     My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
     [These lines form the burden of an old song to which Burns
     wrote additional verses.]

Curious to know what could have determined Mr. Gellatley on an excursion
of such unwonted extent, Edward began to dress himself in all haste,
during which operation the minstrelsy of Davie changed its tune more
than once:--

     There's naught in the Highlands but syboes and leeks,
     And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks;
     Wanting the breeks, and without hose and shoon,
     But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame.
     [These lines are also ancient, and I believe to the tune of
     'We'll never hae peace till Jamie comes hame;'
     to which Burns likewise wrote some verses.]

By the time Waverley was dressed and had issued forth, David had
associated himself with two or three of the numerous Highland loungers
who always graced the gates of the castle with their presence, and was
capering and dancing full merrily in the doubles and full career of a
Scotch foursome reel, to the music of his own whistling. In this double
capacity of dancer and musician, he continued, until an idle piper, who
observed his zeal, obeyed the unanimous call of SEID SUAS (i.e. blow
up), and relieved him from the latter part of his trouble. Young and old
then mingled in the dance as they could find partners. The appearance
of Waverley did not interrupt David's exercise, though he contrived, by
grinning, nodding, and throwing one or two inclinations of the body into
the graces with which he performed the Highland fling, to convey to our
hero symptoms of recognition. Then, while busily employed in setting,
whooping all the while, and snapping his fingers over his head, he of a
sudden prolonged his side-step until it brought him to the place where
Edward was standing, and, still keeping time to the music like Harlequin
in a pantomime, he thrust a letter into our hero's hand, and continued
his saltation without pause or intermission, Edward, who perceived that
the address was in Rose's handwriting, retired to peruse it, leaving the
faithful bearer to continue his exercise until the piper or he should be
tired out.

The contents of the letter greatly surprised him. It had originally
commenced with DEAR SIR; but these words had been carefully erased,
and the monosyllable, SIR, substituted in their place. The rest of the
contents shall be given in Rose's own language:--

'I fear I am using an improper freedom by intruding upon you, yet I
cannot trust to any one else to let you know some things which have
happened here, with which it seems necessary you should be acquainted.
Forgive me if I am wrong in what I am doing; for, alas! Mr. Waverley, I
have no better advice than that of my own feelings;--my dear father
is gone from this place, and when he can return to my assistance
and protection, God alone knows. You have probably heard, that in
consequence of some troublesome news from the Highlands, warrants were
sent out for apprehending several gentlemen in these parts, and, among
others, my dear father. In spite of all my tears and entreaties that he
would surrender himself to the Government, he joined with Mr. Falconer
and some other gentlemen, and they have all gone northwards, with a body
of about forty horsemen. So I am not so anxious concerning his immediate
safety, as about what may follow afterwards, for these troubles are only
beginning. But all this is nothing to you, Mr. Waverley, only I thought
you would be glad to learn that my father has escaped, in case you
happen to have heard that he was in danger.

'The day after my father went off, there came a party of soldiers to
Tully-Veolan, and behaved very rudely to Bailie Macwheeble; but the
officer was very civil to me, only said his duty obliged him to search
for arms and papers. My father had provided against this by taking away
all the arms except the old useless things which hung in the hall; and
he had put all his papers out of the way. But oh! Mr. Waverley, how
shall I tell you that they made strict inquiry after you, and asked when
you had been at Tully-Veolan, and where you now were. The officer is
gone back with his party, but a non-commissioned officer and four men
remain as a sort of garrison in the house. They have hitherto behaved
very well, as we are forced to keep them in good humour. But these
soldiers have hinted as if on your falling into their hands you would
be in great danger; I cannot prevail on myself to write what wicked
falsehoods they said, for I am sure they are falsehoods; but you will
best judge what you ought to do. The party that returned carried off
your servant prisoner, with your two horses, and everything that you
left at Tully-Veolan. I hope God will protect you, and that you will get
safe home to England, where you used to tell me there was no military
violence nor fighting among clans permitted, but everything was done
according to an equal law that protected all who were harmless and
innocent. I hope you will exert your indulgence as to my boldness in
writing to you, where it seems to me, though perhaps erroneously, that
your safety and honour are concerned. I am sure--at least I think,
my father would approve of my writing; for Mr. Rubrick is fled to his
cousin's at the Duchran, to be out of danger from the soldiers and the
Whigs, and Bailie Macwheeble does not like to meddle (he says) in other
men's concerns, though I hope what may serve my father's friend at
such a time as this, cannot be termed improper interference. Farewell,
Captain Waverley! I shall probably never see you more; for it would
be very improper to wish you to call at Tully-Veolan just now, even
if these men were gone; but I will always remember with gratitude your
kindness in assisting so poor a scholar as myself, and your attentions
to my dear, dear father.

'I remain, your obliged servant,

'ROSE COMYNE BRADWARDINE.

'PS.--I hope you will send me a line by David Gellatley, just to say you
have received this, and that you will take care of yourself; and forgive
me if I entreat you, for your own sake, to join none of these unhappy
cabals, but escape, as fast as possible, to your own fortunate
country.--My compliments to my dear Flora, and, to Glennaquoich. Is she
not as handsome and accomplished as I have described her?'

Thus concluded the letter of Rose Bradwardine, the contents of which
both surprised and affected Waverley. That the Baron should fall under
the suspicions of Government, in consequence of the present stir
among the partisans of the house of Stuart, seemed only the natural
consequence of his political predilections; but how he himself should
have been involved in such suspicions, conscious that until yesterday
he had been free from harbouring a thought against the prosperity of
the reigning family, seemed inexplicable. Both at Tully-Veolan and
Glennaquoich, his hosts had respected his engagements with the existing
government, and though enough passed by accidental innuendo that might
induce him to reckon the Baron and the Chief among those disaffected
gentlemen who were still numerous in Scotland, yet until his own
connexion with the army had been broken off by the resumption of
his commission, he had no reason to suppose that they nourished any
immediate or hostile attempts against the present establishment. Still
he was aware that unless he meant at once to embrace the proposal of
Fergus Mac-Ivor, it would deeply concern him to leave the suspicious
neighbourhood without delay, and repair where his conduct might undergo
a satisfactory examination. Upon this he the rather determined, as
Flora's advice favoured his doing so, and because he felt inexpressible
repugnance at the idea of being accessory to the plague of civil war.
Whatever were the original rights of the Stuarts, calm reflection told
him, that, omitting the question how far James the Second could forfeit
those of his posterity, he had, according to the united voice of the
whole nation, justly forfeited his own. Since that period, four monarchs
had reigned in peace and glory over Britain, sustaining and exalting the
character of the nation abroad, and its liberties at home. Reason
asked, was it worth while to disturb a government so long settled and
established, and to plunge a kingdom into all the miseries of civil
war, for the purpose of replacing upon the throne the descendants of a
monarch by whom it had been wilfully forfeited? If, on the other hand,
his own final conviction of the goodness of their cause, or the commands
of his father or uncle, should recommend to him allegiance to the
Stuarts, still it was necessary to clear his own character by showing
that he had not, as seemed to be falsely insinuated, taken any step to
this purpose, during his holding the commission of the reigning monarch.

The affectionate simplicity of Rose, and her anxiety for his
safety,--his sense, too, of her unprotected state, and of the terror and
actual dangers to which she might be exposed, made an impression upon
his mind, and he instantly wrote to thank her in the kindest terms for
her solicitude on his account, to express his earnest good wishes for
her welfare and that of her father, and to assure her of his own safety.
The feelings which this task excited were speedily lost in the necessity
which he now saw of bidding farewell to Flora Mac-Ivor, perhaps for
ever. The pang attending this reflection were inexpressible; for her
high-minded elevation of character, her self-devotion to the cause which
she had embraced, united to her scrupulous rectitude as to the means of
serving it, had vindicated to his judgement the choice adopted by his
passions. But time pressed, calumny was busy with his fame, and every
hour's delay increased the power to injure it. His departure must be
instant.

With this determination he sought out Fergus, and communicated to him
the contents of Rose's letter, with his own resolution instantly to
go to Edinburgh, and put into the hands of some one or other of those
persons of influence to whom he had letters from his father, his
exculpation from any charge which might be preferred against him.

'You run your head into the lion's mouth,' answered Mac-Ivor. 'You do
not know the severity of a Government harassed by just apprehensions,
and a consciousness of their own illegality and insecurity. I shall have
to deliver you from some dungeon in Stirling or Edinburgh Castle.'

'My innocence, my rank, my father's intimacy with Lord M--, General G--,
&c., will be a sufficient protection,' said Waverley.

'You will find the contrary,' replied the Chieftain;--'these gentlemen
will have enough to do about their own matters. Once more, will you
take the plaid, and stay a little while with us among the mists and the
crows, in the bravest cause ever sword was drawn in?' [A Highland rhyme
on Glencairn's Expedition, in 1650, has these lines--

     We'll hide a while among ta crows,
     'We'll wiske ta sword and bend ta bows.]

'For many reasons, my dear Fergus, you must hold me excused.'

'Well, then,' said Mac-Ivor, 'I shall certainly find you exerting
your poetical talents in elegies upon a prison, or your antiquarian
researches in detecting the Oggam [The Oggam is a species of the old
Irish character. The idea of the correspondence betwixt the Celtic
and Punic, founded on a scene in Plautus, was not started till General
Vallancey set up his theory, long after the date of Fergus Mac-Ivor.]
character, or some Punic hieroglyphic upon the key-stones of a vault,
curiously arched. Or what say you to UN PETIT PENDEMENT BIEN JOLI?
against which awkward ceremony I don't warrant you, should you meet a
body of the armed west-country Whigs.'

'And why should they use me so?' said Waverley.

'For a hundred good reasons,' answered Fergus: 'First, you are an
Englishman; secondly, a gentleman; thirdly, a prelatist abjured; and,
fourthly, they have not had an opportunity to exercise their talents
on such a subject this long while. But don't be cast down, beloved: all
will be done in the fear of the Lord.'

'Well, I must run my hazard,'

'You are determined, then?'

'I am.'

'Wilful will do 't,' said Fergus;--'but you cannot go on foot and I
shall want no horse, as I must march on foot at the head of the children
of Ivor; you shall have Brown Dermid.'

'If you will sell him, I shall certainly be much obliged.'

'If your proud English heart cannot be obliged by a gift or loan, I
will not refuse money at the entrance of a campaign: his price is twenty
guineas, [Remember, reader, it was Sixty Years since.] And when do you
propose to depart?'

'The sooner the better,' answered Waverley.

'You are right, since go you must, or rather, since go you will: I will
take Flora's pony, and ride with you as far as Bally-Brough.--Callum
Beg, see that our horses are ready, with a pony for yourself, to attend
and carry Mr. Waverley's baggage as far as--(naming a small town), where
he can have a horse and guide to Edinburgh. Put on a Lowland dress,
Callum, and see you keep your tongue close, if you would not have me cut
it out: Mr. Waverley rides Dermid,' Then turning to Edward, 'You will
take leave of my sister?'

'Surely--that is, if Miss Mac-Ivor will honour me so far.'

'Cathleen, let my sister know that Mr. Waverley wishes to bid her
farewell before he leaves us.--But Rose Bradwardine,--her situation must
be thought of. I wish she were here. And why should she not? There are
but four red-coats at Tully-Veolan, and their muskets would be very
useful to us.'

To these broken remarks Edward made no answer; his ear indeed received
them, but his soul was intent upon the expected entrance of Flora. The
door opened--it was but Cathleen, with her lady's excuse, and wishes for
Captain Waverley's health and happiness.



CHAPTER XXIX

WAVERLEY'S RECEPTION IN THE LOWLANDS AFTER HIS HIGHLAND TOUR

It was noon when the two friends stood at the top of the pass of
Bally-Brough. 'I must go no farther,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, who during
the journey had in vain endeavoured to raise his friend's spirits, 'If
my cross-grained sister has any share in your dejection, trust me she
thinks highly of you, though her present anxiety about the public cause
prevents her listening to any other subject. Confide your interest to
me; I will not betray it, providing you do not again assume that vile
cockade.'

'No fear of that, considering the manner in which it has been recalled.
Adieu, Fergus; do not permit your sister to forget me.'

'And adieu, Waverley; you may soon hear of her with a prouder title. Get
home, write letters, and make friends as many and as fast as you can;
there will speedily be unexpected guests on the coast of Suffolk, or my
news from France has deceived me.' [The sanguine Jacobites, during the
eventful years 1745-6, kept up the spirits of their party by the rumour
of descents from France on behalf of the Chevalier St. George.]

Thus parted the friends; Fergus returning back to his castle, while
Edward, followed by Callum Beg, the latter transformed from point to
point into a Low-country groom, proceeded to the little town of--.

Edward paced on under the painful and yet not altogether embittered
feelings which separation and uncertainty produce in the mind of a
youthful lover. I am not sure if the ladies understand the full value of
the influence of absence, nor do I think it wise to teach it them, lest,
like the Clelias and Mandanes of yore, they should resume the humour of
sending their lovers into banishment. Distance, in truth, produces in
idea the same effect as in real prospective. Objects are softened, and
rounded, and rendered doubly graceful; the harsher and more ordinary
points of character are mellowed down, and those by which it is
remembered are the more striking outlines that mark sublimity, grace,
or beauty. There are mists, too, in the mental, as well as the natural
horizon, to conceal what is less pleasing in distant objects, and there
are happy lights, to stream in full glory upon those points which can
profit by brilliant illumination.

Waverley forgot Flora Mac-Ivor's prejudices in her magnanimity,
and almost pardoned her indifference towards his affection, when he
recollected the grand and decisive object which seemed to fill her whole
soul. She, whose sense of duty so wholly engrossed her in the cause of
a benefactor,--what would be her feelings in favour of the happy
individual who should be so fortunate as to awaken them? Then came the
doubtful question, whether he might not be that happy man,--a question
which fancy endeavoured to answer in the affirmative, by conjuring up
all she had said in his praise, with the addition of a comment much more
flattering than the text warranted. All that was commonplace--all that
belonged to the everyday world--was melted away and obliterated in those
dreams of imagination, which only remembered with advantage the points
of grace and dignity that distinguished Flora, from the generality of
her sex, not the particulars which she held in common with them,
Edward was, in short, in the fair way of creating a goddess out of a
high-spirited, accomplished, and beautiful young woman; and the time was
wasted in castle-building, until, at the descent of a steep hill, he saw
beneath him the market-town of--.

The Highland politeness of Callum Beg--there are few nations, by the
way, who can boast of so much natural politeness as the Highlanders
[The Highlander, in former times, had always a high idea, of his own
gentility, and was anxious to impress the same upon those with whom
he conversed. His language abounded in the phrases of courtesy and
compliment; and the habit of carrying arms, and mixing with those
who did so, made if particularly desirable they should use cautious
politeness in their intercourse with each other.]--the Highland civility
of his attendant had not permitted him to disturb the reveries of our
hero. But observing him rouse himself at the sight of the village,
Callum pressed closer to his side, and hoped 'When they cam to the
public, his honour wad not say nothing about Vich Ian Vohr, for ta
people were bitter Whigs, deil burst tem.'

Waverley assured the prudent page that he would be cautious; and as he
now distinguished, not indeed the ringing of bells, but the tinkling
of something like a hammer against the side of an old messy, green,
inverted porridge-pot, that hung in an open booth, of the size and
shape of a parrot's cage, erected to grace the east end of a building
resembling an old barn, he asked Callum Beg if it were Sunday.

'Could na say just preceesely--Sunday seldom cam aboon the pass of
Bally-Brough.'

On entering the town, however, and advancing towards the most apparent
public house which presented itself, the numbers of old women, in tartan
screens and red cloaks, who streamed from the barn-resembling building,
debating, as they went, the comparative merits of the blessed youth
Jabesh Rentowel, and that chosen vessel Maister Goukthrapple, induced
Callum to assure his temporary master, 'that it was either ta muckle
Sunday hersell, or ta little government Sunday that they ca'd ta fast.'

On alighting at the sign of the Seven-branched Golden Candlestick,
which, for the further delectation of the guests, was graced with
a short Hebrew motto, they were received by mine host, a tall, thin
puritanical figure, who seemed to debate with himself whether he ought
to give shelter to those who travelled on such a day. Reflecting,
however, in all probability, that he possessed the power of mulcting
them for this irregularity, a penalty which they might escape by passing
into Gregor Duncanson's, at the sign of the Highlander and the Hawick
Gill, Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks condescended to admit them into his
dwelling.

To this sanctified person Waverley addressed his request that he would
procure him a guide, with a saddle-horse, to carry his portmanteau to
Edinburgh.

'And whar may ye be coming from?' demanded mine host of the Candlestick.

'I have told you where I wish to go; I do not conceive any further
information necessary either for the guide or his saddle-horse.'

'Hem! Ahem!' returned he of the Candlestick, somewhat disconcerted at
this rebuff. 'It's the general fast, sir, and I cannot enter into ony
carnal transactions on sic a day, when the people should be humbled,
and the back sliders should return, as worthy Mr. Goukthrapple said; and
moreover when, as the precious Mr. Jabesh Rentowel did weel observe, the
land was mourning for covenants burnt, broken, and buried.'

'My good friend,' said Waverley, 'if you cannot let me have a horse and
guide, my servant shall seek them elsewhere.'

'Aweel! Your servant?--and what for gangs he not forward wi' you
himsell?'

Waverley had but very little of a captain of horse's spirit within
him--I mean of that sort of spirit which I have been obliged to when I
happened, in a mail-coach, or diligence, to meet some military man
who has kindly taken upon him the disciplining of the waiters, and the
taxing of reckonings. Some of this useful talent our hero had, however,
acquired during his military service, and on this gross provocation
it began seriously to arise. 'Look ye, sir; I came here for my own
accommodation, and not to answer impertinent questions. Either say you
can, or cannot, get me what I want; I shall pursue my course in either
case.'

Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks left the room with some indistinct muttering;
but whether negative or acquiescent, Edward could not well distinguish.
The hostess, a civil, quiet, laborious drudge, came to take his orders
for dinner, but declined to make answer on the subject of the horse and
guide; for the Salique law, it seems, extended to the stables of the
Golden Candlestick.

From a window which overlooked the dark and narrow court in which Callum
Beg rubbed down the horses after their journey, Waverley heard the
following dialogue betwixt the subtle foot-page of Vich Ian Vohr and his
landlord:--

'Ye'll be frae the north, young man?' began the latter.

'And ye may say that,' answered Callum.

'And ye'll hae ridden a lang way the day, it may weel be?'

'Sae lang, that I could weel tak a dram,'

'Gudewife, bring the gill stoup.'

Here some compliments passed, fitting the occasion, when my host of the
Golden Candlestick, having, as he thought, opened his guest's heart by
this hospitable propitiation, resumed his scrutiny.

'Ye'll no hae mickle better whisky than that aboon the Pass?'

'I am nae frae aboon the Pass.'

'Ye're a Highlandman by your tongue?'

'Na; I am but just Aberdeen-a-way.'

'And did your master come frae Aberdeen wi' you?'

'Aye--that's when I left it mysell,' answered the cool and impenetrable
Callum Beg.

'And what kind of a gentleman is he?'

'I believe he is ane o' King George's state officers; at least he's
aye for ganging on to the south; and he has a hantle siller, and never
grudges ony thing till a poor body, or in the way of a lawing.'

'He wants a guide and a horse frae hence to Edinburgh?'

'Aye, and ye maun find it him forthwith.'

'Ahem! It will be chargeable.'

'He cares na for that a bodle.'

'Aweel, Duncan--did ye say your name was Duncan, or Donald?'

'Na, man--Jamie--Jamie Steenson--I telt ye before.'

This last undaunted parry altogether foiled Mr. Cruickshanks, who,
though not quite satisfied either with the reserve of the master, or
the extreme readiness of the man, was contented to lay a tax on the
reckoning and horse-hire, that might compound for his ungratified
curiosity. The circumstance of its being the fast-day was not forgotten
in the charge, which, on the whole, did not, however, amount to much
more than double what in fairness it should have been.

Callum Beg soon after announced in person the ratification of this
treaty, adding, 'Ta auld deevil was ganging to ride wi' ta Duinhe-wassel
hersell.'

'That will not be very pleasant, Callum, nor altogether safe, for our
host seems a person of great curiosity; but a traveller must submit to
these inconveniences. Meanwhile, my good lad, here is a trifle for you
to drink Vich Ian Vohr's health.'

The hawk's eye of Callum flashed delight upon a golden guinea, with
which these last words were accompanied. He hastened, not without a
curse on the intricacies of a Saxon breeches pocket, or SPLEUCHAN, as
he called it, to deposit the treasure in his fob; and then, as if he
conceived the benevolence called for some requital on his part,
he gathered close up to Edward, with an expression of countenance
peculiarly knowing, and spoke in an undertone, 'If his honour thought ta
auld deevil Whig carle was a bit dangerous, she could easily provide for
him, and tell ane ta wiser.'

'How, and in what manner?'

'Her ain sell,' replied Callum, 'could wait for him a wee bit frae the
toun, and kittle his quarters wi' her SKENE-OCCLE.'

'Skene-occle! what's that?'

Callum unbuttoned his coat, raised his left arm, and, with an emphatic
nod, pointed to the hilt of a small dirk, snugly deposited under it,
in the lining of his jacket. Waverley thought he had misunderstood his
meaning; he gazed in his face, and discovered in Callum's very handsome,
though embrowned features, just the degree of roguish malice with which
a lad of the same age in England would have brought forward a plan for
robbing an orchard.

'Good God, Callum, would you take the man's life?'

'Indeed,' answered the young desperado, 'and I think he has had just a
lang enough lease o't, when he's for betraying honest folk, that come to
spend siller at his public.'

Edward saw nothing was to be gained by argument, and therefore contented
himself with enjoining Callum to lay aside all practices against the
person of Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks; in which injunction the page seemed
to acquiesce with an air of great indifference.

'Ta Duinhe-wassel might please himsell; ta auld rudas loon had never
done Callum nae ill. But here's a bit line frae ta Tighearna, tat he
bade me gie your honour ere I came back.'

The letter from the Chief contained Flora's lines on the fate of Captain
Wogan, whose enterprising character is so well drawn by Clarendon. He
had originally engaged in the service of the Parliament, but had abjured
that party upon the execution of Charles I; and upon hearing that the
royal standard was set up by the Earl of Glencairn and General Middleton
in the Highlands of Scotland, took leave of Charles II, who was then
at Paris, passed into England, assembled a body of cavaliers in the
neighbourhood of London, and traversed the kingdom, which had been so
long under domination of the usurper, by marches conducted with such
skill, dexterity, and spirit, that he safely united his handful of
horsemen with the body of Highlanders then in arms. After several months
of desultory warfare, in which Wogan's skill and courage gained him the
highest reputation, he had the misfortune to be wounded in a dangerous
manner, and no surgical assistance being within reach, he terminated his
short but glorious career.

Where were obvious reasons why the politic Chieftain was desirous to
place the example of this young hero under the eye of Waverley, with
whose romantic disposition it coincided so peculiarly. But his letter
turned chiefly upon some trifling commissions which Waverley had
promised to execute for him in England, and it was only toward the
conclusion that Edward found these words: 'I owe Flora a grudge for
refusing us her company yesterday; and as I am giving you the trouble
of reading these lines, in order to keep in your memory your promise to
procure me the fishing-tackle and cross-bow from London, I will enclose
her verses on the Grave of Wogan. This I know will tease her; for, to
tell you the truth, I think her more in love with the memory of that
dead hero, than she is likely to be with any living one, unless he
shall tread a similar path. But English squires of our day keep their
oak-trees to shelter their deer-parks, or repair the losses of an
evening at White's, and neither invoke them to wreathe their brows nor
shelter their graves. Let me hope for one brilliant exception in a dear
friend, to whom I would most gladly give a dearer title.'

The verses were inscribed,

TO AN OAK TREE

IN THE CHURCHYARD OF--, IN THE HIGHLANDS OF SCOTLAND, SAID TO MARK THE
GRAVE OF CAPTAIN WOGAN, KILLED IN 1649.

     Emblem of England's ancient faith,
     Full proudly may thy branches wave,
     Where loyalty lies low in death,
     And valour fills a timeless grave.

     And thou, brave tenant of the tomb!
     Repine not if our clime deny,
     Above thine honoured sod to bloom,
     The flowerets of a milder sky.

     These owe their birth to genial May;
     Beneath a fiercer sun they pine,
     Before the winter storm decay--
     And can their worth be type of thine?

     No!  for 'mid storms of Fate opposing,
     Still higher swelled thy dauntless heart,
     And, while Despair the scene was closing,
     Commenced thy brief but brilliant part.

     Twas then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill,
     (When England's sons the strife resigned),
     A rugged race, resisting still,
     And unsubdued though unrefined.

     Thy death's hour heard no kindred wail,
     No holy knell thy requiem rung;
     Thy mourners were the plaided Gael;
     Thy dirge the clamorous pibroch sung.

     Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine,
     To waste life's longest term away,
     Would change that glorious dawn of thine,
     Though darkened ere its noontide day?

     Be thine the Tree whose dauntless boughs
     Brave summer's drought and winter's gloom!
     Rome bound with oak her patriots' brows,
     As Albyn shadows Wogan's tomb.

Whatever might be the real merit of Flora Mac-Ivor's poetry,
the enthusiasm which it intimated was well calculated to make a
corresponding impression upon her lover. The lines were read--read
again--then deposited in Waverley's bosom--then again drawn out, and
read line by line, in a low and smothered voice, and with frequent
pauses which, prolonged the mental treat, as an epicure protracts, by
sipping slowly the enjoyment of a delicious beverage. The entrance
of Mrs. Cruickshanks, with the sublunary articles of dinner and wine,
hardly interrupted this pantomime of affectionate enthusiasm.

At length the tall, ungainly figure and ungracious visage of Ebenezer
presented themselves. The upper part of his form, notwithstanding the
season required no such defence, was shrouded in a large great-coat,
belted over his under habiliments, and crested with a huge cowl of
the same stuff, which, when drawn over the head and hat, completely
over-shadowed both, and being buttoned beneath the chin, was called a
TROT-COZY. His hand grasped a huge jockey-whip, garnished with brass
mounting. His thin legs tenanted a pair of gambadoes, fastened at the
sides with rusty clasps. Thus accoutred, he stalked into the midst of
the apartment, and announced his errand in brief phrase:--

'Yerhorses are ready.'

'You go with me yourself then, landlord?'

'I do, as far as Perth; where you may be supplied With a guide to
Embro', as your occasions shall require.'

Thus saying, he placed under Waverley's eye the bill which he held in
his hand; and at the same time, self-invited, filled a glass of wine,
and drank devoutly to a blessing on their journey. Waverley stared
at the man's impudence, but, as their connexion was to be short, and
promised to be convenient, he made no observation upon it; and, having
paid his reckoning, expressed his intention to depart immediately.
He mounted Dermid accordingly, and sallied forth from the Golden
Candlestick, followed by the puritanical figure we have described,
after he had, at the expense of some time and difficulty, and by the
assistance of a 'louping-on-stane,' or structure of masonry erected for
the traveller's convenience in front of the house, elevated his person
to the back of a long-backed, raw-boned, thin-gutted phantom of a
broken-down blood-horse, on which Waverley's portmanteau was deposited.
Our hero, though not in a very gay humour, could hardly help laughing
at the appearance of his new squire, and at imagining the astonishment
which his person and equipage would have excited at Waverley-Honour.

Edward's tendency to mirth did not escape mine host of the Candlestick,
who, conscious of the cause, infused a double portion of souring into
the pharisaical leaven of his countenance, and resolved internally
that in one way or other the young ENGLISHER should pay dearly for the
contempt with which he seemed to regard him. Callum also stood at the
gate, and enjoyed, with undissembled glee, the ridiculous figure of
Mr. Cruickshanks. As Waverley passed him, he pulled off his hat
respectfully, and approaching his stirrup, bade him 'Tak heed the auld
Whig deevil played him nae cantrip.'

Waverley once more thanked, and bade him farewell, and then rode briskly
onward, not sorry to be out of hearing of the shouts of the children,
as they beheld old Ebenezer rise and sink in his stirrups, to avoid
the concussions occasioned by a hard trot upon a half-paved street. The
village of--was soon several miles behind him.



CHAPTER XXX

SHOWS THAT THE LOSS OF A HORSE'S SHOE MAY BE A SERIOUS INCONVENIENCE

The manner and air of Waverley, but, above all, the glittering contents
of his purse, and the indifference with which he seemed to regard
them, somewhat overawed his companion, and deterred him from making any
attempts to enter upon conversation. His own reflections were, moreover,
agitated by various surmises, and by plans of self-interest, with which
these were intimately connected. The travellers journeyed, therefore,
in silence, until it was interrupted by the annunciation, on the part of
the guide, that his 'naig had lost a fore-foot shoe, which, doubtless,
his honour would consider it was his part to replace.'

This was what lawyers call a FISHING QUESTION, calculated to ascertain
how far Waverley was disposed to submit to petty imposition. 'My part
to replace your horse's shoe, you rascal!' said Waverley, mistaking the
purport of the intimation.

'Indubitably,' answered Mr. Cruickshanks; 'though there was no preceese
clause to that effect, it canna be expected that I am to pay for
the casualties whilk may befall the puir naig while in your honour's
service.--Nathless, if your honour--'

'Oh, you mean I am to pay the farrier; but where shall we find one?'

Rejoiced at discerning there would be no objection made on the part of
his temporary master, Mr. Cruickshanks assured him that Cairnvreckan,
a village which they were about to enter, was happy in an excellent
blacksmith; 'but as he was a professor, he would drive a nail for no
man on the Sabbath, or kirk-fast, unless it were in a case of absolute
necessity, for which he always charged sixpence each shoe.' The most
important part of this communication, in the opinion of the speaker,
made a very slight impression on the hearer, who only internally
wondered what college this veterinary professor belonged to; not aware
that the word was used to denote any person who pretended to uncommon
sanctity of faith and manner.

As they entered the village of Cairnvreckan, they speedily distinguished
the smith's house. Being also a PUBLIC, it was two stories high, and
proudly reared its crest, covered with grey slate, above the thatched
hovels by which it was surrounded. The adjoining smithy betokened none
of the Sabbatical silence and repose which Ebenezer had augured from the
sanctity of his friend. On the contrary, hammer clashed and anvil rang,
the bellows groaned, and the whole apparatus of Vulcan appeared to be
in full activity. Nor was the labour of a rural and pacific nature. The
master smith, benempt, as his sign intimated, John Mucklewrath, with two
assistants, toiled busily in arranging, repairing, and furbishing old
muskets, pistols, and swords, which lay scattered around his workshop
in military confusion. The open shed, containing the forge, was crowded
with persons who came and went as if receiving and communicating
important news; and a single glance at the aspect of the people who
traversed the street in haste, or stood assembled in groups, with
eyes elevated, and hands uplifted, announced that some extraordinary
intelligence was agitating the public mind of the municipality of
Cairnvreckan. 'There is some news,' said mine host of the Candlestick,
pushing his lantern-jawed visage and bare-boned nag rudely forward into
the crowd--'there is some news; and if it please my Creator, I will
forthwith obtain speirings thereof.'

Waverley, with better regulated curiosity than his attendant's,
dismounted, and gave his horse to a boy who stood idling near. It arose,
perhaps, from the shyness of his character in early youth, that he felt
dislike at applying to a stranger even for casual information, without
previously glancing at his physiognomy and appearance. While he looked
about in order to select the person with whom he would most willingly
hold communication, the buzz around saved him in some degree the trouble
of interrogatories. The names of Lochiel, Clanronald, Glengarry, and
other distinguished Highland Chiefs, among whom Vich Ian Vohr was
repeatedly mentioned, were as familiar in men's mouths as household
words; and from the alarm generally expressed, he easily conceived that
their descent into the Lowlands, at the head of their armed tribes, had
either already taken place, or was instantly apprehended.

Ere Waverley could ask particulars, a strong, large-boned, hard-featured
woman, about forty, dressed as if her clothes had been flung on with
a pitchfork, her cheeks flushed with a scarlet red where they were
not smutted with soot and lamp-black, jostled through the crowd, and,
brandishing high a child of two years old, which she danced in her
arms, without regard to its screams of terror, sang forth, with all her
might,--

     'Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling,
     Charlie is my darling,
     The young Chevalier!

'D'ye hear what's come ower ye now,' continued the virago, 'ye whingeing
Whig carles? D'ye hear wha's coming to cow yer cracks?

     Little wot ye wha's coming,
     Little wot ye wha's coming,
     A' the wild Macraws are coming.'

The Vulcan of Cairnvreckan, who acknowledged his Venus in this exulting
Bacchante, regarded her with a grim and ire-foreboding countenance,
while some of the senators of the village hastened to interpose.
'Whisht, gudewife; is this a time, or is this a day, to be singing your
ranting fule sangs in?--a time when the wine of wrath is poured out
without mixture in the cup of indignation, and a day when the land
should give testimony against popery, and prelacy, and quakerism, and
independency, and supremacy, and erastianism, and antinomianism, and a'
the errors of the church?'

'And that's a' your Whiggery,' re-echoed the Jacobite heroine; 'that's
a' your Whiggery, and your presbytery, ye cut-lugged, graning carles!
What! d'ye think the lads wi' the kilts will care for yer synods and
yer presbyteries, and yer buttock-mail, and yer stool o' repentance?
Vengeance on the black face o't! Mony an honester woman's been set upon
it than streeks doon beside ony Whig in the country. I mysell'--

Here John Mucklewrath, who dreaded her entering upon a detail of
personal experience, interposed his matrimonial authority. 'Gae hame,
and be d-- (that I should say sae), and put on the sowens for supper.'

'And you, ye doil'd dotard,' replied his gentle helpmate, her wrath,
which had hitherto wandered abroad over the whole assembly, being at
once and violently impelled into its natural channel, 'ye stand
there hammering dog-heads for fules that will never snap them at a
Highlandman, instead, of earning bread for your family, and shoeing this
winsome young gentleman's horse that's just come frae the north! I'se
warrant him nane of your whingeing King George folk, but a gallant
Gordon, at the least o' him.'

The eyes of the assembly were now turned upon Waverley, who took the
opportunity to beg the smith to shoe his guide's horse with all speed,
as he wished to proceed on his journey;--for he had heard enough to make
him sensible that there would be danger in delaying long in this place.
The smith's eye rested on him with a look of displeasure and suspicion,
not lessened by the eagerness with which his wife enforced Waverley's
mandate. 'D'ye hear what the weel-favoured young gentleman says, ye
drunken ne'er-do-good?'

And what may your name be, sir?' quoth Mucklewrath.

'It is of no consequence to you, my friend, provided I pay your labour.'

'But it may be of consequence to the state, sir,' replied an old farmer,
smelling strongly of whisky and peat-smoke; 'and I doubt we maun delay
your journey till you have seen the Laird.'

'You certainly,' said Waverley, haughtily, 'will find it both difficult
and dangerous to detain me, unless you can produce some proper
authority.'

There was a pause and a whisper among the crowd--'Secretary Murray;'
'Lord Lewis Gordon;' 'Maybe the Chevalier himsell!' Such were the
surmises that passed hurriedly among them, and there was obviously an
increased disposition to resist Waverley's departure. He attempted to
argue mildly with them, but his voluntary ally, Mrs. Mucklewrath, broke
in upon and drowned his expostulations, taking his part with an abusive
violence, which was all set down to Edward's account by those on whom it
was bestowed. 'YE'LL stop ony gentleman that's the Prince's freend?'
for she too, though with other feelings, had adopted the general opinion
respecting Waverley. 'I daur ye to touch him,' spreading abroad her long
and muscular fingers, garnished with claws which a vulture might have
envied. 'I'll set my ten commandments in the face o' the first loon that
lays a finger on him.'

'Gae hame, gudewife, quoth the farmer aforesaid; 'it wad better set you
to be nursing the gudeman's bairns than to be deaving us here.'

'HIS bairns!' retorted the amazon, regarding her husband with a grin of
ineffable contempt--'HIS bairns!

     O gin ye were dead, gudeman,
     And a green turf on your head, gudeman!
     Then I would ware my widowhood
     Upon a ranting Highlandman.'

This canticle, which excited a suppressed titter among the younger part
of the audience, totally overcame the patience of the taunted man of the
anvil. 'Deil be in me but I'll put this het gad down her throat!' cried
he, in an ecstasy of wrath, snatching a bar from the forge; and he might
have executed his threat, had he not been withheld by a part of the mob;
while the rest endeavoured to force the termagant out of his presence.

Waverley meditated a retreat in the confusion, but his horse was nowhere
to be seen. At length he observed, at some distance, his faithful
attendant, Ebenezer, who, as soon as he had perceived the turn matters
were likely to take, had withdrawn both horses from the press, and,
mounted on the one, and holding the other, answered the loud and
repeated calls of Waverley for his horse--'Na, na! if ye are nae friend
to kirk and the king, and are detained as siccan a person, ye maun
answer to honest men of the country for breach of contract; and I maun
keep the naig and the walise for damage and expense, in respect my
horse and mysell will lose to-morrow's day's-wark, besides the afternoon
preaching.'

Edward, out of patience, hemmed in and hustled by the rabble on every
side, and every moment expecting personal violence, resolved to
try measures of intimidation, and at length drew a pocket-pistol,
threatening, on the one hand, to shoot whomsoever dared to stop him,
and, on the other, menacing Ebenezer with a similar doom, if he stirred
a foot with the horses. The sapient Partridge says, that one man with a
pistol is equal to a hundred unarmed, because, though he can shoot but
one of the multitude, yet no one knows but that he himself may be that
luckless individual. The levy en masse of Cairnvreckan would therefore
probably have given way, nor would Ebenezer, whose natural paleness had
waxed three shades more cadaverous, have ventured to dispute a mandate
so enforced, had not the Vulcan of the village, eager to discharge upon
some more worthy object the fury which his helpmate had provoked, and
not ill satisfied to find such an object in Waverley, rushed at him with
the red-hot bar of iron, with such determination as made the discharge
of his pistol an act of self-defence. The unfortunate man fell; and
while Edward, thrilled with a natural horror at the incident, neither
had presence of mind to unsheathe his sword nor to draw his remaining
pistol, the populace threw themselves upon him, disarmed him, and were
about to use him with great violence, when the appearance of a venerable
clergyman, the pastor of the parish, put a curb on their fury.

This worthy man (none of the Goukthrapples or Rentowels) maintained his
character with the common people, although he preached the practical
fruits of Christian faith, as well as its abstract tenets, and was
respected by the higher orders, notwithstanding he declined soothing
their speculative errors by converting the pulpit of the gospel into a
school of heathen morality. Perhaps it is owing to this mixture of faith
and practice in his doctrine, that, although his memory has formed a
sort of era in the annals of Cairnvreckan, so that the parishioners, to
denote what befell Sixty Years since, still say it happened 'in good Mr.
Morton's time,' I have never been able to discover which he belonged to,
the evangelical, or the moderate party in the kirk. Nor do I hold the
circumstance of much moment, since, in my own remembrance, the one was
headed by an Erskine, the other by a Robertson. [The Rev. John Erskine,
D.D., an eminent Scottish divine, and a most excellent man, headed
the Evangelical party in the Church of Scotland at the time when the
celebrated Dr. Robertson, the historian, was the leader of the Moderate
party. These two distinguished persons were colleagues in the Old Grey
Friars' Church, Edinburgh; and, however much they differed in church
politics, preserved the most perfect harmony as private friends, and as
clergymen serving the same cure.]

Mr. Morton had been alarmed by the discharge of the pistol, and the
increasing hubbub around the smithy. His first attention, after he had
directed the bystanders to detain Waverley, but to abstain from injuring
him, was turned to the body of Mucklewrath, over which his wife, in a
revulsion of feeling, was weeping, howling, and tearing her elf-locks,
in a state little short of distraction. On raising up the smith, the
first discovery was, that he was alive; and the next, that he was likely
to live as long as if he had never heard the report of a pistol in his
life. He had made a narrow escape, however; the bullet had grazed his
head, and stunned him for a moment or two, which trance terror and
confusion of spirit had prolonged, somewhat longer. He now arose
to demand vengeance on the person of Waverley, and with difficulty
acquiesced in the proposal of Mr. Morton, that he should be carried
before the laird, as a justice of peace, and placed at his disposal. The
rest of the assistants unanimously agreed to the measure recommended;
even Mrs. Mucklewrath, who had begun to recover from her hysterics,
whimpered forth, 'She wadna say naething against what the minister
proposed; he was e'en ower gude for his trade, and she hoped to see him
wi' a dainty decent bishop's gown on his back; a comelier sight than
your Geneva cloaks and bands, I wis.'

All controversy being thus laid aside, Waverley, escorted by the whole
inhabitants of the village who were not bed-ridden, was conducted to the
house of Cairnvreckan, which was about half a mile distant.



CHAPTER XXXI

AN EXAMINATION

Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, an elderly gentleman, who had spent his
youth in the military service, received Mr. Morton with great kindness,
and our hero with civility, which the equivocal circumstances wherein
Edward was placed rendered constrained and distant.

The nature of the smith's hurt was inquired into, and as the actual
injury was likely to prove trifling, and the circumstances in which it
was received rendered the infliction, on Edward's part, a natural act
of self-defence, the Major conceived he might dismiss that matter, on
Waverley's depositing in his hands a small sum for the benefit of the
wounded person.

'I could wish, sir,' continued the Major, 'that my duty terminated here;
but it is necessary that we should have some further inquiry into
the cause of your journey through the country at this unfortunate and
distracted time.'

Mr. Ebenezer Cruickshanks now stood forth, and communicated to the
magistrate all he knew or suspected, from the reserve of Waverley, and
the evasions of Callum Beg. The horse upon which Edward rode, he said he
knew to belong to Vich Ian Vohr, though he dared not tax Edward's former
attendant with the fact, lest he should have his house and stables
burnt over his head some night by that godless gang, the Mac-Ivors. He
concluded by exaggerating his own services to kirk and state, as having
been the means, under God (as he modestly qualified the assertion), of
attaching this suspicious and formidable delinquent. He intimated hopes
of future reward, and of instant reimbursement for loss of time, and
even of character, by travelling on the state business on the fast-day.

To this Major Melville answered, with great composure, that so far from
claiming any merit in this affair, Mr. Cruickshanks ought to deprecate
the imposition of a very heavy fine for neglecting to lodge, in terms of
the recent proclamation, an account with the nearest magistrate of any
stranger who came to his inn; that as Mr. Cruickshanks boasted so
much of religion and loyalty, he should not impute this conduct to
disaffection, but only suppose that his zeal for kirk and state had
been lulled asleep by the opportunity of charging a stranger with double
horse-hire; that, however, feeling himself incompetent to decide singly
upon the conduct of a person of such importance, he should reserve it
for consideration of the next quarter-sessions. Now our history for the
present saith no more of him of the Candlestick, who wended dolorous and
malcontent back to his own dwelling.

Major Melville then commanded the villagers to return to their homes,
excepting two, who officiated as constables, and whom he directed to
wait below. The apartment was thus cleared of every person but Mr.
Morton, whom the Major invited to remain; a sort of factor, who acted
as clerk; and Waverley himself. There ensued a painful and embarrassed
pause, till Major Melville, looking upon Waverley with much compassion,
and often consulting a paper or memorandum which he held in his hand,
requested to know his name.--'Edward Waverley.'

'I thought so; late of the--dragoons, and nephew of Sir Everard Waverley
of Waverley-Honour?'

'The same.'

'Young gentleman, I am extremely sorry that this painful duty has fallen
to my lot.'

'Duty, Major Melville, renders apologies superfluous.'

'True, sir; permit me, therefore, to ask you how your time has been
disposed of since you obtained leave of absence from your regiment,
several weeks ago, until the present moment?'

'My reply,' said Waverley, 'to so general a question must be guided by
the nature of the charge which renders it necessary. I request to know
what that charge is, and upon what authority I am forcibly detained to
reply to it?'

'The charge, Mr. Waverley, I grieve to say, is of a very high nature,
and affects your character both as a soldier and a subject. In the
former capacity, you are charged with spreading mutiny and rebellion
among the men you commanded, and setting them the example of desertion,
by prolonging your own absence from the regiment, contrary to the
express orders of your commanding-officer. The civil crime of which you
stand accused is that of high treason, and levying war against the king,
the highest delinquency of which a subject can be guilty.'

'And by what authority am I detained to reply to such heinous
calumnies?'

'By one which you must not dispute, nor I disobey.'

He handed to Waverley a warrant from the Supreme Criminal Court of
Scotland, in full form, for apprehending and securing the person of
Edward Waverley, Esq., suspected of treasonable practices and other high
crimes and misdemeanours.

The astonishment which Waverley expressed at this communication was
imputed by Major Melville to conscious guilt, while Mr. Morton was
rather disposed to construe it into the surprise of innocence unjustly
suspected. There was something true in both conjectures; for although
Edward's mind acquitted him of the crime with which he was charged,
yet a hasty review of his own conduct convinced him he might have great
difficulty in establishing his innocence to the satisfaction of others.

'It is a very painful part of this painful business,' said Major
Melville, after a pause, 'that, under so grave a charge, I must
necessarily request to see such papers as you have on your person.'

'You shall, sir, without reserve,' said Edward, throwing his pocket-book
and memorandums upon the table; 'there is but one with which I could
wish you would dispense.'

'I am afraid, Mr. Waverley, I can indulge you with no reservation.'

'You shall see it then, sir; and as it can be of no service, I beg it
may be returned.'

He took from his bosom the lines he had that morning received, and
presented them with the envelope. The Major perused them in silence, and
directed his clerk to make a copy of them. He then wrapped the copy
in the envelope, and placing it on the table before him, returned the
original to Waverley, with an air of melancholy gravity.

After indulging the prisoner, for such our hero must now be considered,
with what he thought a reasonable time for reflection, Major Melville
resumed his examination, premising, that as Mr. Waverley seemed to
object to general questions, his interrogatories should be as specific
as his information permitted. He then proceeded in his investigation,
dictating, as he went on, the import of the questions and answers to the
amanuensis, by whom it was written down.

Did Mr. Waverley know one Humphry Houghton, a non-commissioned officer
in Gardiner's dragoons?'

'Certainly; he was sergeant of my troop, and son of a tenant of my
uncle.'

'Exactly--and had a considerable share of your confidence, and an
influence among his comrades?'

'I had never occasion to repose confidence in a person of his
description,' answered Waverley. 'I favoured Sergeant Houghton as a
clever, active young fellow, and I believe his fellow soldiers respected
him accordingly.'

'But you used through this man,' answered Major Melville, 'to
communicate with such of your troop as were recruited upon
Waverley-Honour?'

'Certainly; the poor fellows, finding themselves in a regiment chiefly
composed of Scotch or Irish, looked up to me in any of their little
distresses, and naturally made their countryman, and sergeant, their
spokesman on such occasions.'

'Sergeant Houghton's influence,' continued the Major, 'extended, then,
particularly over those soldiers who followed you to the regiment from
your uncle's estate?'

'Surely;--but what is that to the present purpose?'

'To that I am just coming, and I beseech your candid reply. Have you,
since leaving the regiment, held any correspondence, direct or indirect,
with this Sergeant Houghton?'

'I!--I hold correspondence with a man of his rank and situation!--How,
or for what purpose?'

'That you are to explain;--but did you not, for example, send to him for
some books?'

'You remind me of a trifling commission,' said Waverley, 'which I gave
Sergeant Houghton, because my servant could not read. I do recollect I
bade him, by letter, select some books, of which I sent him a list, and
send them to me at Tully-Veolan.'

'And of what description were those books?'

'They related almost entirely to elegant literature; they were designed
for a lady's perusal.'

'Were there not, Mr. Waverley, treasonable tracts and pamphlets among
them?'

'There were some political treatises, into which I hardly looked. They
had been sent to me by the officiousness of a kind friend, whose heart
is more to be esteemed than his prudence or political sagacity; they
seemed to be dull compositions.'

'That friend,' continued the persevering inquirer, 'was a Mr. Pembroke,
a nonjuring clergyman, the author of two treasonable works, of which the
manuscripts were found among your baggage?'

'But of which, I give you my honour as a gentleman,' replied Waverley,
'I never read six pages.'

'I am not your judge, Mr. Waverley; your examination will be transmitted
elsewhere. And now to proceed--Do you know a person that passes by the
name of Wily Will, or Will Ruthven?'

'I never heard of such a name till this moment.'

'Did you never, through such a person, or any other person, communicate
with Sergeant Humphry Houghton, instigating him to desert, with as
many of his comrades as he could seduce to join him, and unite with the
Highlanders and other rebels now in arms under the command of the young
Pretender?'

'I assure you I am not only entirely guiltless of the plot you have laid
to my charge, but I detest it from the very bottom of my soul, nor would
I be guilty of such treachery to gain a throne, either for myself or any
other man alive.'

'Yet when I consider this envelope, in the handwriting of one of those
misguided gentlemen who are now in arms against their country, and the
verses which it enclosed, I cannot but find some analogy between the
enterprise I have mentioned and the exploit of Wogan, which the writer
seems to expect you should imitate.'

Waverley was struck with the coincidence, but denied that the wishes
or expectations of the letter-writer were to be regarded as proofs of a
charge otherwise chimerical.

'But, if I am rightly informed, your time was spent, during your absence
from the regiment, between the house of this Highland Chieftain,
and that of Mr. Bradwardine of Bradwardine, also in arms for this
unfortunate cause?'

'I do not mean to disguise it; but I do deny, most resolutely, being
privy to any of their designs against the Government.'

'You do not, however, I presume, intend to deny, that you attended your
host Glennaquoich to a rendezvous, where, under a pretence of a general
hunting-match, most of the accomplices of his treason were assembled to
concert measures for taking arms?'

'I acknowledge having been at such a meeting,' said Waverley; 'but I
neither heard nor saw anything which could give it the character you
affix to it.'

'From thence you proceeded,' continued the magistrate, 'with
Glennaquoich and a part of his clan, to join the army of the young
Pretender, and returned, after having paid your homage to him, to
discipline and arm the remainder, and unite them to his bands on their
way southward?'

'I never went with Glennaquoich on such an errand. I never so much as
heard that the person whom you mention was in the country.'

He then detailed the history of his misfortune at the hunting-match,
and added, that on his return he found himself suddenly deprived of his
commission and did not deny that he then, for the first time, observed
symptoms which indicated a disposition in the Highlanders to take arms;
but added, that having no inclination to join their cause, and no longer
any reason for remaining in Scotland, he was now on his return to his
native country, to which he had been summoned by those who had a right
to direct his motions, as Major Melville would perceive from the letters
on the table.

Major Melville accordingly perused the letters of Richard Waverley, of
Sir Everard, and of Aunt Rachel; but the inferences he drew from them
were different from what Waverley expected. They held the language of
discontent with Government, threw out no obscure hints of revenge; and
that of poor Aunt Rachel, which plainly asserted the justice of the
Stuart cause, was held to contain the open avowal of what the others
only ventured to insinuate.

'Permit me another question, Mr. Waverley,' said Major Melville. 'Did
you not receive repeated letters from your commanding-officer, warning
you and commanding you to return to your post, and acquainting you with
the use made of your name to spread discontent among your soldiers?'

'I never did, Major Melville. One letter, indeed, I received from him,
containing a civil intimation of his wish that I would employ my leave
of absence otherwise than in constant residence at Bradwardine, as to
which, I own, I thought he was not called on to interfere; and, finally,
I received, on the same day on which I observed myself superseded in the
Gazette, a second letter from Colonel Gardiner, commanding me to join
the regiment,--an order which, owing to my absence, already mentioned
and accounted for, I received too late to be obeyed. If there were any
intermediate letters--and certainly, from the Colonel's high character,
I think it probable that there were--they have never reached me.'

'I have omitted, Mr. Waverley,' continued Major Melville, 'to inquire
after a matter of less consequence, but which has nevertheless been
publicly talked of to your disadvantage. It is said that a treasonable
toast having been proposed in your hearing and presence, you, holding
his Majesty's commission, suffered the task of resenting it to devolve
upon another gentleman of the company. This, sir, cannot be charged
against you in a court of justice; but if, as I am informed, the
officers of your regiment requested an explanation of such a rumour,
as a gentleman and soldier, I cannot but be surprised that you did not
afford it to them.'

This was too much. Beset and pressed on every hand by accusations, in
which gross falsehoods were blended with such circumstances of truth
as could not fail to procure them credit,--alone, unfriended, and in a
strange land, Waverley almost gave up his life and honour for lost, and,
leaning his head upon his hand, resolutely refused to answer any further
questions, since the fair and candid statement he had already made had
only served to furnish arms against him.

Without expressing either surprise or displeasure at the change in
Waverley's manner, Major Melville proceeded composedly to put several
other queries to him. 'What does it avail me to answer you?' said
Edward, sullenly. 'You appear convinced of my guilt, and wrest every
reply I have made to support your own preconceived opinion. Enjoy your
supposed triumph, then, and torment me no further. If I am capable of
the cowardice and treachery your charge burdens me with, I am not worthy
to be believed in any reply I can make to you. If I am not deserving of
your suspicion--and God and my own conscience bear evidence with me
that it is so--then I do not see why I should, by my candour, lend my
accusers arms against my innocence. There is no reason I should answer
a word more, and I am determined to abide by this resolution.' And again
he resumed his posture of sullen and determined silence.

'Allow me,' said the magistrate, 'to remind you of one reason that may
suggest the propriety of a candid and open confession. The inexperience
of youth, Mr. Waverley, lays it open to the plans of the more designing
and artful; and one of your friends at least--I mean Mac-Ivor of
Glennaquoich--ranks high in the latter class, as, from your apparent
ingenuousness, youth, and unacquaintance with the manners of the
Highlands, I should be disposed to place you among the former. In such
a case, a false step, or error like yours, which I shall be happy to
consider as involuntary, may be atoned for, and I would willingly act as
intercessor. But as you must necessarily be acquainted with the strength
of the individuals in this country who have assumed arms, with their
means, and with their plans, I must expect you will merit this mediation
on my part by a frank and candid avowal of all that has come to your
knowledge upon these heads. In which case, I think I can venture to
promise that a very short personal restraint will be the only ill
consequence that can arise from your accession to these unhappy
intrigues.'

Waverley listened with great composure until the end of this
exhortation, when, springing from his seat, with an energy he had not
yet displayed, he replied, 'Major Melville, since that is your name,
I have hitherto answered your questions with candour, or declined them
with temper, because their import concerned myself alone; but as you
presume to esteem me mean enough to commence informer against others,
who received me, whatever may be their public misconduct, as a guest and
friend,--I declare to you that I consider your questions as an insult
infinitely more offensive than your calumnious suspicions; and that,
since my hard fortune permits me no other mode of resenting them than by
verbal defiance, you should sooner have my heart out of my bosom, than
a single syllable of information on subjects which I could only become
acquainted with in the full confidence of unsuspecting hospitality.'

Mr. Morton and the Major looked at each other; and the former, who, in
the course of the examination, had been repeatedly troubled with a sorry
rheum, had recourse to his snuff-box and his handkerchief.

'Mr. Waverley,' said the Major, 'my present situation prohibits me alike
from giving or receiving offence, and I will not protract a discussion
which approaches to either. I am afraid I must sign a warrant for
detaining you in custody, but this house shall for the present be
your prison. I fear I cannot persuade you to accept a share of our
supper?--(Edward shook his head)--but I will order refreshments in your
apartment.

Our hero bowed and withdrew, under guard of the officers of justice, to
a small but handsome room, where, declining all offers of food or wine,
he flung himself on the bed, and, stupefied by the harassing events
and mental fatigue of this miserable day, he sank into a deep and heavy
slumber. This was more than he himself could have expected; but it is
mentioned of the North American Indians, when at the stake of torture,
that on the least intermission of agony, they will sleep until the fire
is applied to awaken them.



CHAPTER XXXII

A CONFERENCE, AND THE CONSEQUENCE

Major Melville had detained Mr. Morton during his examination of
Waverley, both because he thought he might derive assistance from his
practical good sense and approved loyalty, and also because it was
agreeable to have a witness of unimpeached candour and veracity to
proceedings which touched the honour and safety of a young Englishman of
high rank and family, and the expectant heir of a large fortune. Every
step he knew would be rigorously canvassed, and it was his business to
place the justice and integrity of his own conduct beyond the limits of
question.

When Waverley retired, the laird and clergyman of Cairnvreckan sat down
in silence to their evening meal. While the servants were in attendance,
neither chose to say anything on the circumstances which occupied their
minds, and neither felt it easy to speak upon any other. The youth and
apparent frankness of Waverley stood in strong contrast to the shades
of suspicion which darkened around him, and he had a sort of NAIVETE and
openness of demeanour, that seemed to belong to one unhackneyed in the
ways of intrigue, and which pleaded highly in his favour.

Each mused over the particulars of the examination, and each viewed it
through the medium of his own feelings. Both were men of ready and acute
talent, and both were equally competent to combine various parts of
evidence, and to deduce from them the necessary conclusions. But the
wide difference of their habits and education often occasioned a great
discrepancy in their respective deductions from admitted premises.

Major Melville had been versed in camps and cities; he was vigilant by
profession, and cautious from experience; had met with much evil in
the world, and therefore, though himself an upright magistrate and an
honourable man, his opinions of others were always strict, and sometimes
unjustly severe. Mr. Morton, on the contrary, had passed from the
literary pursuits of a college, where he was beloved by his companions,
and respected by his teachers, to the ease and simplicity of his present
charge, where his opportunities of witnessing evil were few, and never
dwelt upon but in order to encourage repentance and amendment; and where
the love and respect of his parishioners repaid his affectionate zeal in
their behalf, by endeavouring to disguise from him what they knew
would give him the most acute pain, namely, their own occasional
transgressions of the duties which it was the business of his life to
recommend. Thus it was a common saying in the neighbourhood (though
both wore popular characters), that the laird knew only the ill in the
parish, and the minister only the good.

A love of letters, though kept in subordination to his clerical studies
and duties, also distinguished the pastor of Cairnvreckan, and had
tinged his mind in earlier days with a slight feeling of romance, which
no after incidents of real life had entirely dissipated. The early loss
of an amiable young woman, whom he had married for love, and who was
quickly followed to the grave by an only child, had also served, even
after the lapse of many years, to soften a disposition naturally mild
and contemplative. His feelings on the present occasion were therefore
likely to differ from those of the severe disciplinarian, strict
magistrate, and distrustful man of the world.

When the servants had withdrawn, the silence of both parties continued,
until Major Melville, filling his glass, and pushing the bottle to Mr.
Morton, commenced. 'A distressing affair this, Mr. Morton. I fear this
youngster has brought himself within the compass of a halter.'

'God forbid!' answered the clergyman.

'Marry, and amen,' said the temporal magistrate; 'but I think even your
merciful logic will hardly deny the conclusion.'

'Surely, Major,' answered the clergyman, 'I should hope it might be
averted, for aught we have heard to-night?'

'Indeed!' replied Melville. 'But, my good parson, you are one of those
who would communicate to every criminal the benefit of clergy.'

'Unquestionably I would: mercy and long-suffering are the grounds of the
doctrine I am called to teach.'

'True, religiously speaking; but mercy to a criminal may be gross
injustice to the community. I don't speak of this young fellow in
particular, who I heartily wish may be able to clear himself, for I
like both his modesty and his spirit. But I fear he has rushed upon his
fate.'

'And why? Hundreds of misguided gentlemen are now in arms against the
Government; many, doubtless, upon principles which education and
early prejudice have gilded with the names of patriotism and
heroism;--Justice, when she selects her victims from such a multitude
(for surely all will not be destroyed), must regard the moral motive.
He whom ambition, or hope of personal advantage, has led to disturb the
peace of a well-ordered government, let him fall a victim to the laws;
but surely youth, misled by the wild visions of chivalry and imaginary
loyalty, may plead for pardon.'

'If visionary chivalry and imaginary loyalty come within the predicament
of high treason,' replied the magistrate, 'I know no court in
Christendom, my dear Mr. Morton, where they can sue out their Habeas
Corpus.'

'But I cannot see that this youth's guilt is at all established to my
satisfaction,' said the clergyman.

'Because your good nature blinds your good sense,' replied Major
Melville. 'Observe now: this young man, descended of a family of
hereditary Jacobites, his uncle the leader of the Tory interest in the
county of--, his father a disobliged and discontented courtier, his
tutor a nonjuror, and the author of two treasonable volumes--this youth,
I say, enters into Gardiner's dragoons, bringing with him a body-of
young fellows from his uncle's estate, who have not stickled at
avowing, in their way, the High Church principles they learned at
Waverley-Honour, in their disputes with their comrades. To these young
men Waverley is unusually attentive; they are supplied with money beyond
a soldier's wants, and inconsistent with his discipline; and are under
the management of a favourite sergeant, through whom they hold an
unusually close communication with their captain, and affect to consider
themselves as independent of the other officers, and superior to their
comrades.'

'All this, my dear Major, is the natural consequence of their attachment
to their young landlord, and of their finding themselves in a regiment
levied chiefly in the north of Ireland and the west of Scotland, and of
course among comrades disposed to quarrel with them, both as Englishmen,
and as members of the Church of England.'

'Well said, parson!' replied the magistrate.--'I would some of your
synod heard you.--But let me go on. This young man obtains leave
of absence, goes to Tully-Veolan--the principles of the Baron of
Bradwardine are pretty well known, not to mention that this lad's uncle
brought him off in the year fifteen; he engages there in a brawl, in
which he is said to have disgraced the commission he bore; Colonel
Gardiner writes to him, first mildly, then more sharply--I think you
will not doubt his having done so, since he says so; the mess invite
him to explain the quarrel in which he is said to have been involved; he
neither replies to his commander nor his comrades. In the meanwhile, his
soldiers become mutinous and disorderly, and at length, when the rumour
of this unhappy rebellion becomes general, his favourite Sergeant
Houghton, and another fellow, are detected in correspondence with a
French emissary, accredited, as he says, by Captain Waverley, who urges
him, according to the men's confession, to desert with the troop and
join their captain, who was with Prince Charles. In the meanwhile this
trusty captain is, by his own admission, residing at Glennaquoich with
the most active, subtle, and desperate Jacobite in Scotland; he goes
with him at least as far as their famous hunting rendezvous, and I
fear a little farther. Meanwhile two other summonses are sent him;
one warning him of the disturbances in his troop, another peremptorily
ordering him to repair to the regiment, which, indeed, common sense
might have dictated, when he observed rebellion thickening all round
him. He returns an absolute refusal, and throws up his commission.'

'He had been already deprived of it,' said Mr. Morton.

'But he regrets,' replied Melville, 'that the measure had anticipated
his resignation. His baggage is seized at his quarters, and at
Tully-Veolan, and is found to contain a stock of pestilent jacobitical
pamphlets, enough to poison a whole country, besides the unprinted
lucubrations of his worthy friend and tutor Mr. Pembroke.

'He says he never read them,' answered the minister.

'In an ordinary case I should believe him,' replied the magistrate, 'for
they are as stupid and pedantic in composition, as mischievous in their
tenets. But can you suppose anything but value for the principles they
maintain would induce a young man of his age to lug such trash about
with him? Then, when news arrive of the approach of the rebels, he sets
out in a sort of disguise, refusing to tell his name; and, if yon old
fanatic tell truth, attended by a very suspicious character, and mounted
on a horse known to have belonged to Glennaquoich, and bearing on his
person letters from his family expressing high rancour against the house
of Brunswick, and a copy of verses in praise of one Wogan, who abjured
the service of the Parliament to join the Highland insurgents, when in
arms to restore the house of Stuart, with a body of English cavalry the
very counterpart of his own plot--and summed up with a "Go thou and
do likewise," from that loyal subject, and most safe and peaceable
character, Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich, Vich Ian Vohr, and so forth.
And, lastly,' continued Major Melville, warming in the detail of his
arguments, 'where do we find this second edition of Cavalier Wogan? Why,
truly, in the very track most proper for execution of his design, and
pistolling the first of the king's subjects who ventures to question his
intentions.'

Mr. Morton prudently abstained from argument, which he perceived would
only harden the magistrate in his opinion, and merely asked how he
intended to dispose of the prisoner?

'It is a question of some difficulty, considering the state of the
country,' said Major Melville.

'Could you not detain him (being such a gentleman-like young man) here
in your own house, out of harm's way, till this storm blow over?'

'My good friend,' said Major Melville, 'neither your house nor mine will
be long out of harm's way, even were it legal to confine him here. I
have just learned that the commander-in-chief, who marched into the
Highlands to seek out and disperse the insurgents, has declined giving
them battle at Corryerick, and marched on northward with all the
disposable force of Government to Inverness, John-o'-Groat's House, or
the devil, for what I know, leaving the road to the Low Country open and
undefended to the Highland army.'

'Good God!' said the clergyman. 'Is the man a coward, a traitor, or an
idiot?'

'None of the three, I believe,' answered Melville. 'Sir John has the
commonplace courage of a common soldier, is honest enough, does what he
is commanded, and understands what is told him, but is as fit to act for
himself in circumstances of importance, as I, my dear parson, to occupy
your pulpit.'

This important public intelligence naturally diverted the discourse from
Waverley for some time; at length, however, the subject was resumed.

'I believe,' said Major Melville, 'that I must give this young man in
charge to some of the detached parties of armed volunteers, who were
lately sent out to overawe the disaffected districts, They are now
recalled towards Stirling, and a small body comes this way to-morrow or
next day, commanded by the westland man,--what's his name?--You saw him,
and said he was the very model of one of Cromwell's military saints,'

Gilfillan, the Cameronian,' answered Mr. Morton. 'I wish the young
gentleman may be safe with him. Strange things are done in the heat and
hurry of minds in so agitating a crisis, and I fear Gilfillan is of a
sect which has suffered persecution without learning mercy.'

'He has only to lodge Mr. Waverley in Stirling Castle,' said the Major:
'I will give strict injunctions to treat him well. I really cannot
devise any better mode for securing him, and I fancy you would hardly
advise me to encounter the responsibility of setting him at liberty.'

'But you will have no objection to my seeing him tomorrow in private?'
said the minister.

'None, certainly; your loyalty and character are my warrant. But with
what view do you make the request?'

'Simply,' replied Mr. Morton, 'to make the experiment whether he may not
be brought to communicate to me some circumstances which may hereafter
be useful to alleviate, if not to exculpate his conduct.'

The friends now parted and retired to rest, each filled with the most
anxious reflections on the state of the country.



CHAPTER XXXIII

A CONFIDANT

Waverley awoke in the morning, from troubled dreams and unrefreshing
slumbers, to a full consciousness of the horrors of his situation. How
it might terminate he knew not. He might be delivered up to military
law, which, in the midst of civil war, was not likely to be scrupulous
in the choice of its victims, or the quality of the evidence. Nor did he
feel much more comfortable at the thoughts of a trial before a Scottish
court of justice, where he knew the laws and forms differed in many
respects from those of England, and had been taught to believe, however
erroneously, that the liberty and rights of the subject were less
carefully protected. A sentiment of bitterness rose in his mind against
the Government, which he considered as the cause of his embarrassment
and peril, and he cursed internally his scrupulous rejection of
Mac-Ivor's invitation to accompany him to the field.

'Why did not I,' he said to himself, 'like other men of honour, take the
earliest opportunity to welcome to Britain the descendant of her ancient
kings, and lineal heir of her throne? Why did not I

     Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
     And welcome home again discarded faith,
     Seek out Prince Charles, and fall before his feet?

All that has been recorded of excellence and worth in the house of
Waverley has been founded upon their loyal faith to the house of Stuart.
From the interpretation which this Scotch magistrate has put upon
the letters of my uncle and father, it is plain that I ought to have
understood them as marshalling me to the course of my ancestors; and it
has been my gross dullness, joined to the obscurity of expression which
they adopted for the sake of security, that has confounded my judgement.
Had I yielded to the first generous impulse of indignation when I
learned that my honour was practised upon, how different had been my
present situation! I had then been free and in arms, fighting, like my
forefathers, for love, for loyalty, and for fame. And now I am here,
netted and in the toils, at the disposal of a suspicious, stern,
and cold-hearted man, perhaps to be turned over to the solitude of a
dungeon, or the infamy of a public execution. O Fergus! how true has
your prophecy proved; and how speedy, how very speedy, has been its
accomplishment!'

While Edward was ruminating on these painful subjects of contemplation,
and very naturally, though not quite so justly, bestowing upon the
reigning dynasty that blame which was due to chance, or, in part at
least, to his own unreflecting conduct, Mr. Morton availed himself of
Major Melville's permission to pay him an early visit.

Waverley's first impulse was to intimate a desire that he might not
be disturbed with questions or conversation; but he suppressed it upon
observing the benevolent and reverend appearance of the clergyman who
had rescued him from the immediate violence of the villagers.

'I believe, sir,' said the unfortunate young man, 'that in any other
circumstances I should have had as much gratitude to express to you as
the safety of my life may be worth; but such is the present tumult of
my mind, and such is my anticipation of what I am yet likely to endure,
that I can hardly offer you thanks for your interposition.'

Mr. Morton replied, that, far from making any claim upon his good
opinion, his only wish and the sole purpose of his visit was to find
out the means of deserving it. 'My excellent friend, Major Melville,' he
continued, 'has feelings and duties as a soldier and public functionary,
by which I am not fettered; nor can I always coincide in opinions which
he forms, perhaps with too little allowance for the imperfections of
human nature. He paused, and then proceeded: 'I do not intrude myself
on your confidence, Mr. Waverley, for the purpose of learning any
circumstances, the knowledge of which can be prejudicial either to
yourself or to others; but I own my earnest wish is, that you would
entrust me with any particulars which could lead to your exculpation. I
can solemnly assure you they will be deposited with a faithful, and, to
the extent of his limited powers, a zealous agent.'

'You are, sir, I presume, a Presbyterian clergyman?'--Mr. Morton
bowed.--'Were I to be guided by the prepossessions of education, I might
distrust your friendly professions in my case; but I have observed
that similar prejudices are nourished in this country against your
professional brethren of the Episcopal persuasion, and I am willing to
believe them equally unfounded in both cases.'

'Evil to him that thinks otherwise,' said Mr. Morton; 'or who holds
church government and ceremonies as the exclusive gage of Christian
faith or moral virtue.'

'But,' continued Waverley, 'I cannot perceive why I should trouble you
with a detail of particulars, out of which, after revolving them as
carefully as possible in my recollection, I find myself unable to
explain much of what is charged against me. I know, indeed, that I am
innocent, but I hardly see how I can hope to prove myself so.'

'It is for that very reason, Mr. Waverley,' said the clergyman, 'that I
venture to solicit your confidence. My knowledge of individuals in
this country is pretty general, and can upon occasion be extended.
Your situation will, I fear, preclude you taking those active steps for
recovering intelligence, or tracing imposture, which I would willingly
undertake in your behalf; and if you are not benefited by my exertions,
at least they cannot be prejudicial to you.'

Waverley, after a few minutes' reflection, was convinced that his
reposing confidence in Mr. Morton, so far as he himself was concerned,
could hurt neither Mr. Bradwardine nor Fergus Mac-Ivor, both of whom had
openly assumed arms against the Government, and that it might possibly,
if the professions of his new friend corresponded in sincerity with
the earnestness of his expression, be of some service to himself. He
therefore ran briefly over most of the events with which the reader
is already acquainted, suppressing his attachment to Flora, and indeed
neither mentioning her nor Rose Bradwardine in the course of his
narrative.

Mr. Morton seemed particularly struck with the account of Waverley's
visit to Donald Bean Lean. 'I am glad,' he said, 'you did not mention
this circumstance to the Major. It is capable of great misconstruction
on the part; of those who do not consider the power of curiosity and the
influence of romance as motives of youthful conduct. When I was a young
man like you, Mr. Waverley, any such hair-brained expedition (I beg your
pardon for the expression) would have had inexpressible charms for me.
But there are men in the world who will not believe that danger
and fatigue are often incurred without any very adequate cause, and
therefore who are sometimes led to assign motives of action entirely
foreign to the truth. This man Bean Lean is renowned through the country
as a sort of Robin Hood, and the stories which are told of his address
and enterprise are the common tales of the winter fireside. He certainly
possesses talents beyond the rude sphere in which he moves; and, being
neither destitute of ambition nor encumbered with scruples, he will
probably attempt, by every means, to distinguish himself during the
period of these unhappy commotions.' Mr. Morton then made a careful
memorandum of the various particulars of Waverley's interview with
Donald Bean Lean, and the other circumstances which he had communicated.

The interest which this good man seemed to take in his
misfortunes,--above all, the full confidence he appeared to repose in
his innocence,--had the natural effect of softening Edward's heart, whom
the coldness of Major Melville had taught to believe that the world
was leagued to oppress him. He shook Mr. Morton warmly by the hand, and
assuring him that his kindness and sympathy had relieved his mind of a
heavy load, told him, that whatever might be his own fate, he belonged
to a family who had both gratitude and the power of displaying it.

The earnestness of his thanks called drops to the eyes of the worthy
clergyman, who was doubly interested in the cause for which he had
volunteered his services, by observing the genuine and undissembled
feelings of his young friend.

Edward now inquired if Mr. Morton knew what was likely to be his
destination.

'Stirling Castle,' replied his friend; 'and so far I am well pleased
for your sake, for the governor is a man of honour and humanity. But
I am more doubtful of your treatment upon the road; Major Melville is
involuntarily obliged to entrust the custody of your person to another.'

'I am glad of it,' answered Waverley. 'I detest that cold-blooded
calculating Scotch magistrate. I hope he and I shall never meet more:
he had neither sympathy with my innocence nor my wretchedness; and the
petrifying accuracy with which he attended to every form of civility,
while he tortured me by his questions, his suspicions, and his
inferences, was as tormenting as the racks of the Inquisition. Do not
vindicate him, my dear sir, for that I cannot bear with patience; tell
me rather who is to have the charge of so important a state prisoner as
I am.'

'I believe a person called Gilfillan, one of the sect who are termed
Cameronians.'

'I never heard of them before.'

'They claim,' said the clergyman, 'to represent the more strict and
severe Presbyterians, who in Charles Second's and James Second's days,
refused to profit by the Toleration, or Indulgence, as it was called,
which was extended to others of that religion. They held conventicles in
the open fields, and being treated, with great violence and cruelty by
the Scottish government, more than once took arms during those reigns.
They take their name from their leader, Richard Cameron.

'I recollect,' said Waverley; 'but did not the triumph of Presbytery at
the Revolution extinguish that sect?'

'By no means,' replied Morton; 'that great event fell yet far short
of what they proposed, which was nothing less than the complete
establishment of the Presbyterian Church, upon the grounds of the old
Solemn League and Covenant. Indeed, I believe they scarce knew what they
wanted; but being a numerous body of men, and not unacquainted with the
use of arms, they kept themselves together as a separate party in the
state, and at the time of the Union had nearly formed a most unnatural
league with their old enemies, the Jacobites, to oppose that important
national measure. Since that time their numbers have gradually
diminished; but a good many are still to be found in the western
counties, and several, with a better temper than in 1707, have now taken
arms for Government, This person, whom they call Gifted Gilfillan, has
been long a leader among them, and now heads a small party, which will
pass here to-day, or to-morrow, on their march towards Stirling, under
whose escort Major Melville proposes you shall travel. I would willingly
speak to Gilfillan in your behalf; but, having deeply imbibed all the
prejudices of his sect, and being of the same fierce disposition, he
would pay little regard to the remonstrances of an Erastian divine, as
he would politely term me.--And now, farewell, my young friend; for the
present, I must not weary out the Major's indulgence, that I may obtain
his permission to visit you again in the course of the day.'



CHAPTER XXXIV

THINGS MEND A LITTLE

About noon, Mr. Morton returned, and brought an invitation from Major
Melville that Mr. Waverley would honour him with his company to
dinner, notwithstanding the unpleasant affair which detained him at
Cairnvreckan, from which he should heartily rejoice to see Mr. Waverley
completely extricated. The truth was, that Mr. Morton's favourable
report and opinion had somewhat staggered the preconceptions of the
old soldier concerning Edward's supposed accession to the mutiny in
the regiment; and in the unfortunate state of the country, the mere
suspicion of disaffection, or an inclination to join the insurgent
Jacobites, might infer criminality indeed, but certainly not dishonour.
Besides, a person whom the Major trusted had reported to him (though,
as it proved, inaccurately) a contradiction of the agitating news of the
preceding evening. According to this second edition of the intelligence,
the Highlanders had withdrawn from the Lowland frontier with the purpose
of following the army in their march to Inverness. The Major was at a
loss, indeed, to reconcile his information with the well-known abilities
of some of the gentlemen in the Highland army, yet it was the course
which was likely to be most agreeable to others. He remembered the
same policy had detained them in the north in the year 1715, and he
anticipated a similar termination to the insurrection as upon that
occasion.

This news put him in such good humour, that he readily acquiesced in Mr.
Morton's proposal to pay some hospitable attention to his unfortunate
guest, and voluntarily added, he hoped the whole affair would prove a
youthful escapade, which might be easily atoned by a short confinement.
The kind mediator had some trouble to prevail on his young friend to
accept the invitation. He dared not urge to him the real motive, which
was a good-natured wish to secure a favourable report of Waverley's case
from Major Melville to Governor Blakeney. He remarked, from the flashes
of our hero's spirit, that touching upon this topic would be sure to
defeat his purpose. He therefore pleaded, that the invitation argued the
Major's disbelief of any part of the accusation which was inconsistent
with Waverley's conduct as a soldier and a man of honour, and that to
decline his courtesy might be interpreted into a consciousness that it
was unmerited. In short, he so far satisfied Edward that the manly and
proper course was to meet the Major on easy terms, that, suppressing
his strong dislike again to encounter his cold and punctilious civility,
Waverley agreed to be guided by his new friend. The meeting, at first,
was stiff and formal enough. But Edward, having accepted the invitation,
and his mind being really soothed and relieved by the kindness of
Morton, held himself bound to behave with ease, though he could not
affect cordiality. The Major was somewhat of a BON VIVANT, and his wine
was excellent. He told his old campaign stories, and displayed much
knowledge of men and manners. Mr. Morton had an internal fund of placid
and quiet gaiety, which seldom failed to enliven any small party in
which he found himself pleasantly seated. Waverley, whose life was a
dream, gave ready way to the predominating impulse, and became the most
lively of the party. He had at all times remarkable natural powers of
conversation, though easily silenced by discouragement. On the present
occasion, he piqued himself upon leaving on the minds of his companions
a favourable impression of one who, under such disastrous circumstances,
could sustain his misfortunes with ease and gaiety. His spirits, though
not unyielding, were abundantly elastic, and soon seconded his efforts.
The trio were engaged in very lively discourse, apparently delighted
with each other, and the kind host was pressing a third bottle of
Burgundy, when the sound of a drum was heard at some distance. The
Major, who, in the glee of an old soldier, had forgot the duties of a
magistrate, cursed, with a muttered military oath, the circumstances
which recalled him to his official functions. He rose and went towards
the window, which commanded a very near view of the high-road, and he
was followed by his guests.

The drum advanced, beating no measured martial tune, but a kind
of rub-a-dub-dub, like that with which the fire-drum startles the
slumbering artisans of a Scotch burgh. It is the object of this history
to do justice to all men; I must therefore record, in justice to the
drummer, that he protested he could beat any known march or point of
war known in the British army, and had accordingly commenced with
'Dumbarton's Drums,' when he was silenced by Gifted Gilfillan, the
commander of the party, who refused to permit his followers to move to
this profane, and even, as he said, persecuting tune, and commanded the
drummer to beat the 119th Psalm. As this was beyond the capacity of the
drubber of sheepskin, he was fain to have recourse to the inoffensive
row-de-dow, as a harmless substitute for the sacred music which his
instrument or skill were unable to achieve. This may be held a trifling
anecdote, but the drummer in question was no less than town-drummer
of Anderton. I remember his successor in office, a member of that
enlightened body, the British Convention: be his memory, therefore,
treated with due respect.



CHAPTER XXXV

A VOLUNTEER SIXTY YEARS SINCE

On hearing the unwelcome sound of the drum, Major Melville hastily
opened a sashed door, and stepped out upon a sort of terrace which
divided his house from the high-road from which the martial music
proceeded. Waverley and his new friend followed him, though probably
he would have dispensed with their attendance. They soon recognized in
solemn march, first, the performer upon the drum; secondly, a large
flag of four compartments, on which were inscribed the words COVENANTS,
RELIGION, KING, KINGDOMES. The person who was honoured with this charge
was followed by the commander of the party, a thin, dark, rigid-looking
man, about sixty years old. The spiritual pride, which in mine Host of
the Candlestick mantled in a sort of supercilious hypocrisy, was, in
this man's face, elevated and yet darkened by genuine and undoubting
fanaticism. It was impossible to behold him without imagination
placing him in some strange crisis, where religious zeal was the ruling
principle. A martyr at the stake, a soldier in the field, a lonely and
banished wanderer consoled by the intensity and supposed purity of his
faith under every earthly privation; perhaps a persecuting inquisitor,
as terrible in power as unyielding in adversity; any of these seemed
congenial characters to this personage. With these high traits of
energy, there was something in the affected precision and solemnity of
his deportment and discourse, that bordered upon the ludicrous; so that,
according to the mood of the spectator's mind, and the light under which
Mr. Gilfillan presented himself, one might have feared; admired, or
laughed at him. His dress was that of a west-country peasant, of
better materials indeed than that of the lower rank, but in no respect
affecting either the mode of the age, or of the Scottish gentry at
any period. His arms were a broadsword and pistols, which, from the
antiquity of their appearance, might have seen the rout of Pentland, or
Bothwell Brigg.

As he came up a few steps to meet Major Melville, and touched solemnly,
but slightly, his huge and overbrimmed blue bonnet, in answer to the
Major, who had courteously raised a small triangular gold-laced hat,
Waverley was irresistibly impressed with the idea that he beheld a
leader of the Roundheads of yore in conference with one of Marlborough's
captains.

The group of about thirty armed men who followed this gifted commander,
was of a motley description. They were in ordinary Lowland dresses, of
different colours, which, contrasted with the arms they bore, gave them
an irregular and mobbish appearance; so much is the eye accustomed to
connect uniformity of dress with the military character. In front were
a few who apparently partook of their leader's enthusiasm; men obviously
to be feared in a combat where their natural courage was exalted by
religious zeal. Others puffed and strutted, filled with the importance
of carrying arms, and all the novelty of their situation, while
the rest, apparently fatigued with their march, dragged their limbs
listlessly along, or straggled from their companions to procure such
refreshments as the neighbouring cottages and ale-houses afforded.--Six
grenadiers of Ligonier's, thought the Major to himself, as his mind
reverted to his own military experience, would have sent all these
fellows to the right about.

Greeting, however, Mr. Gilfillan civilly, he requested to know if he
had received the letter he had sent to him upon his march, and could
undertake the charge of the state prisoner whom he there mentioned, as
far as Stirling Castle. 'Yea,' was the concise reply of the Cameronian
leader, in a voice which seemed to issue from the very PENETRALIA of his
person.

'But your escort, Mr. Gilfillan, is not so strong as I expected,' said
Major Melville,

'Some of the people,' replied Gilfillan, 'hungered and were athirst
by the way, and tarried until their poor souls were refreshed with the
word.'

'I am sorry, sir,' replied the Major, 'you did not trust to your
refreshing your men at Cairnvreckan; whatever my house contains is at
the command of persons employed in the service.'

'It was not of creature comforts I spake,' answered the Covenanter,
regarding Major Melville with something like a smile of contempt;
'howbeit, I thank you; but the people remained waiting upon the precious
Mr. Jabesh Rentowel, for the outpouring of the afternoon exhortation.'

'And have you, sir,' said the Major, 'when the rebels are about to
spread themselves through this country, actually left a great part of
your command at a field-preaching!'

Gilfillan again smiled scornfully as he made this indirect
answer,--'Even thus are the children of this world wiser in their
generation than the children of light!'

'However, sir,' said the Major, 'as you are to take charge of this
gentleman to Stirling, and deliver him, with these papers, into the
hands of Governor Blakeney, I beseech you to observe some rules of
military discipline upon your march. For example, I would advise you to
keep your men more closely together, and that each, in his march, should
cover his file-leader, instead of straggling like geese upon a common;
and, for fear of surprise, I further recommend to you to form a small
advance-party of your best men, with a single vidette in front of the
whole march, so that when you approach a village or a wood'--(Here the
Major interrupted himself)--'But as I don't observe you listen to me,
Mr. Gilfillan, I suppose I need not give myself the trouble to say more
upon the subject. You are a better judge, unquestionably, than I am, of
the measures to be pursued; but one thing I would have you well aware
of, that you are to treat this gentleman, your prisoner, with no rigour
nor incivility, and are to subject him to no other restraint than is
necessary for his security.'

'I have looked into my commission,' said Mr. Gilfillan, subscribed by
a worthy and professing nobleman, William, Earl of Glencairn; nor do I
find it therein set down that I am to receive any charges or commands
anent my doings from Major William Melville of Cairnvreckan.'

Major Melville reddened even to the well-powdered ears which appeared
beneath his neat military side-curls, the more so, as he observed Mr.
Morton smile at the same moment. 'Mr. Gilfillan,' he answered with some
asperity, 'I beg ten thousand pardons for interfering with a person
of your importance. I thought, however, that as you have been bred a
grazier, if I mistake not, there might be occasion to remind you of the
difference between Highlanders and Highland cattle; and if you should
happen to meet with any gentleman who has seen service; and is disposed
to speak upon the subject, I should still imagine that listening to him
would do you no sort of harm. But I have done, and have only once
more to recommend this gentleman to your civility, as well as to your
custody.--Mr Waverley, I am truly sorry we should part in this way; but
I trust, when you are again in this country, I may have an opportunity
to render Cairnvreckan more agreeable than circumstances have permitted
on this occasion.'

So saying, he shook our hero by the hand. Morton also took an
affectionate farewell; and Waverley, having mounted his horse, with a
musketeer leading it by the bridle, and a file upon each side to prevent
his escape, set forward upon the march with Gilfillan and his party.
Through the little village they were accompanied with the shouts of the
children, who cried out, 'Eh! see to the Southland gentleman, that's
gaun to be hanged for shooting lang John Mucklewrath the smith!'



CHAPTER XXXVI

AN INCIDENT

The dinner-hour of Scotland Sixty Years since was two o'clock. It was
therefore about four o'clock of a delightful autumn afternoon that Mr.
Gilfillan commenced his march, in hopes, although Stirling was eighteen
miles distant, he might be able, by becoming a borrower of the night
for an hour or two, to reach it that evening. He therefore put forth his
strength, and marched stoutly along at the head of his followers, eyeing
our hero from time to time, as if he longed to enter into controversy
with him. At length unable to resist the temptation, he slackened his
pace till he was alongside of his prisoner's horse, and after marching a
few steps in silence abreast of him, he suddenly asked,--'Can ye say wha
the carle was wi' the black coat; and the mousted head, that was wi' the
Laird of Cairnvreckan?'

'A Presbyterian clergyman,' answered Waverley.

'Presbyterian!' answered Gilfillan contemptuously: 'a wretched Erastian,
or rather an obscured Prelatist,--a favourer of the black Indulgence;
ane of thae dumb dogs that canna bark: they tell ower a clash o' terror
and a clatter o' comfort in their sermons, without ony sense, or savour,
or life.--Ye've been fed in siccan a fauld, belike?'

'No; I am of the Church of England,' said Waverley.

And they're just neighbour-like,' replied the Covenanter; 'and nae
wonder they gree sae weel. Wha wad hae thought the goodly structure
of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fathers in 1642, wad hae been
defaced by carnal ends and, the corruptions of the time;--aye, wha wad
hae thought the carved work of the sanctuary would hae been sae soon cut
down!'

To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorussed with a
deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to make any reply. Whereupon
Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a hearer at least, if not a
disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiad.

'And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the call to
the service of the altar and the duty of the day, ministers fall into
sinful compliances with patronage, and indemnities, and oaths, and
bonds, and, other corruptions,--is it wonderful, I say, that you, sir,
and other sic-like unhappy persons, should labour to build up your auld
Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy persecuting saint-killing times? I
trow, gin ya werena blinded wi' the graces and favours, and services and
enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of this wicked world, I
could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy rag ye put your
trust; and that your surplices, and your copes and vestments, are but
cast-off-garments of the muckle harlot, that sitteth upon seven hills,
and drinketh of the cup of abomination. But, I trow, ye are deaf
as adders upon that side of the head; aye, ye are deceived with her
enchantments, and ye traffic with her merchandise, and ye are drunk with
the cup of her fornication!'

How much longer this military theologist might have continued his
invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant of
HILL-FOLK, as he called them, is absolutely uncertain. His matter was
copious, his voice powerful, and his memory strong; so that there was
little chance of his ending his exhortation till the party had reached
Stirling, had not his attention been attracted by a pedlar who had
joined the march from a cross-road, and who sighed or groaned with great
regularity at all fitting pauses of his homily.

'And what may ya be, friend?' said the Gifted Gilfillan.

'A puir pedler, that's bound for Stirling, and craves the protection of
your honour's party in these kittle times. Ah! your honour has a notable
faculty in searching and explaining the secret,--aye, the secret and
obscure and incomprehensible causes of the backslidings of the land;
aye, your honour touches the root o' the matter.'

'Friend,' said Gilfillan, with a more complacent voice than he had
hitherto used, 'honour not me. I do not go out to park-dikes, and to
steadings, and to market-towns, to have herds and cottars and
burghers pull off their bonnets to me as they do to Major Melville o'
Cairnvreckan, and ca' me laird, or captain, or honour;--no; my sma'
means, whilk are not aboon twenty thousand merk, have had the blessing
of increase, but the pride of heart has not increased with them; nor do
I delight to be called captain, though I have the subscribed commission
of that gospel-searching nobleman, the Earl of Glencairn, in whilk I am
so designated. While I live, I am and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan,
who will stand up for the standards of doctrine agreed on by the
ance-famous Kirk of Scotland, before she trafficked with the accursed
Achan, while he has a plack in his purse, or a drap o' bluid in his
body.'

'Ah,' said the pedlar, 'I have seen your land about Mauchlin--a fertile
spot! your lines have fallen in pleasant places!--And siccan a breed o'
cattle is not in ony laird's land in Scotland.'

'Ye say right,--ye say right, friend,' retorted Gilfillan eagerly, for
he was not inaccessible to flattery upon this subject,--'ye say right;
they are the real Lancashire, and there's no the like o' them even at
the Mains of Kilmaurs;' and he then entered into a discussion of their
excellences, to which our readers will probably be as indifferent as
our hero. After this excursion, the leader returned to his theological
discussions, while the pedlar, less profound upon those mystic points,
contented himself with groaning, and expressing his edification at
suitable intervals.

'What a blessing it would be to the puir blinded popish nations among
whom I hae sojourned, to have siccan a light to their paths! I hae been
as far as Muscovia in my sma' trading way, as a travelling merchant;
and I hae been through France, and the Low Countries, and a' Poland, and
maist feck o' Germany; and oh! it would grieve your honour's soul to see
the murmuring, and the singing, and massing, that's in the kirk, and the
piping that's in the quire, and the heathenish dancing and dicing upon
the Sabbath!'

This set Gilfillan off upon the Book of Sports and the Covenant, and
the Engagers, and the Protesters, and the Whiggamore's Raid, and
the Assembly of Divines at Westminster, and the Longer and Shorter
Catechism, and the Excommunication at Torwood, and the slaughter of
Archbishop Sharp. This last topic, again, led him into the lawfulness of
defensive arms, on which subject he uttered much more sense than could
have been expected from some other parts of his harangue, and attracted
even Waverley's attention, who had hitherto been lost in his own sad
reflections. Mr. Gilfillan then considered the lawfulness of a private
man's standing forth as the avenger of public oppression, and as he was
labouring with great earnestness the cause of Mas James Mitchell, who
fired at the Archbishop of St. Andrews some years before the prelate's
assassination on Magus Muir, an incident occurred which interrupted his
harangue.

The rays of the sun were lingering on the very verge of the horizon, as
the party ascended a hollow and somewhat steep path, which led to the
summit of a rising ground. The country was unenclosed, being part of a
very extensive heath or common; but it was far from level, exhibiting
in many places hollows filled with furze and broom; in others little
dingles of stunted brushwood. A thicket of the latter description
crowned the hill up which the party ascended. The foremost of the band,
being the stoutest and most active, had pushed on, and having surmounted
the ascent, were out of ken for the present. Gilfillan, with the pedlar,
and the small party who were Waverley's more immediate guard, were
near the top of the ascent, and the remainder straggled after them at a
considerable interval.

Such was the situation of matters, when the pedlar, missing, as he said,
a little doggie which belonged to him, began to halt and whistle for the
animal. This signal, repeated more than once, gave offence to the rigour
of his companion, the rather because it appeared to indicate inattention
to the treasures of theological and controversial knowledge which was
pouring out for his edification. He therefore signified gruffly, that he
could not waste his time in waiting for a useless cur.

'But if your honour wad consider the case of Tobit'--

'Tobit!' exclaimed Gilfillan, with great heat; 'Tobit and his dog baith
are altogether heathenish and apocryphal, and none but a prelatist or
a papist would draw them into question. I doubt I hae been mista'en in
you, friend.'

'Very likely,' answered the pedlar, with great composure; 'but
ne'ertheless, I shall take leave to whistle again upon puir Bawty,'

This last signal was answered in an unexpected manner; for six or eight
stout Highlanders, who lurked among the copse and brushwood, sprang
into the hollow way, and began to lay about them with their claymores.
Gilfillan, un-appalled at this undesirable apparition, cried out
manfully, 'The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!' and, drawing his
broadsword, would probably have done as much credit to the good old
cause as any of its doughty champions at Drumclog, when, behold! the
pedlar, snatching a musket from the person who was next him, bestowed
the butt of it with such emphasis on the head of his late instructor in
the Cameronian creed, that he was forthwith levelled to the ground. In
the confusion which ensued, the horse which bore our hero was shot
by one of Gilfillan's party, as he discharged his firelock at random.
Waverley fell with, and indeed under, the animal, and sustained some
severe contusions. But he was almost instantly extricated from the
fallen steed by two Highlanders, who, each seizing him by the arm,
hurried him away from the scuffle and from the high-road. They ran with
great speed, half supporting and half dragging our hero, who could,
however, distinguish a few dropping shots fired about the spat which
he had left. This, as he afterwards learned, proceeded from Gilfillan's
party, who had now assembled, the stragglers in front and rear having
joined the others. At their approach the Highlanders drew off, but not
before they had rifled Gilfillan and two of his people, who remained on
the spot grievously wounded. A few shots were exchanged betwixt them
and the Westlanders; but the latter, now without a commander, and
apprehensive of a second ambush, did not make any serious effort to
recover their prisoner, judging it more wise to proceed on their journey
to Stirling, carrying with them their wounded captain and comrades.



CHAPTER XXXVII

WAVERLEY IS STILL IN DISTRESS

The velocity, and indeed violence, with which Waverley was hurried
along, nearly deprived him of sensation; for the injury he had received
from his fall prevented him from aiding himself so effectually as he
might otherwise have done. When this was observed by his conductors,
they called to their aid two or three others of the party, and swathing
our hero's body in one of their plaids, divided his weight by that
means among them, and transported him at the same rapid rate as before,
without any exertion of his own. They spoke little, and that in Gaelic;
and did not slacken their pace till they had run nearly two miles, when
they abated their extreme rapidity, but continued still to walk very
fast, relieving each other occasionally,

Our hero now endeavoured to address them, but was only answered with
'CHA N'EIL BEURL' AGAM,' i.e. 'I have no English,' being, as Waverley
well knew, the constant reply of a Highlander, when he either does not
understand, or does not choose to reply to, an Englishman or Lowlander.
He then mentioned the name of Vich Ian Vohr, concluding that he was
indebted to his friendship for his rescue from the clutches of Gifted
Gilfillan; but neither did this produce any mark of recognition from his
escort.

The twilight had given place to moonshine when the party halted upon
the brink of a precipitous glen, which, as partly enlightened by the
moonbeams, seemed full of trees and tangled brushwood. Two of the
Highlanders dived into it by a small footpath, as if to explore its
recesses, and one of them returning in a few minutes, said something to
his companions, who instantly raised their burden, and bore him,
with great attention and care, down the narrow and abrupt descent.
Notwithstanding their precautions, however, Waverley's person came more
than once into contact, rudely enough, with the projecting stumps and
branches which overhung the pathway.

At the bottom of the descent, and, as it seemed, by the side of a
brook (for Waverley heard the rushing of a considerable body of water,
although its stream was invisible in the darkness), the party again
stopped before a small and rudely-constructed hovel. The door was open,
and the inside of the premises appeared as uncomfortable and rude as its
situation and exterior foreboded. There was no appearance of a floor
of any kind; the roof seemed rent in several places; the walls were
composed of loose stones and turf, and the thatch of branches of trees.
The fire was in the centre, and filled the whole wigwam with smoke,
which escaped as much through the door as by means of a circular
aperture in the roof. An old Highland sibyl, the only inhabitant of this
forlorn mansion, appeared busy in the preparation of some food. By
the light which the fire afforded, Waverley could discover that his
attendants were not of the clan of Ivor, for Fergus was particularly
strict in requiring from his followers that they should wear the tartan
striped in the mode peculiar to their race; a mark of distinction
anciently general through the Highlands, and still maintained by those
chiefs who were proud of their lineage, or jealous of their separate and
exclusive authority.

Edward had lived at Glennaquoich long enough to be aware of a
distinction which he had repeatedly heard noticed; and now satisfied
that he had no interest with his attendants, he glanced a disconsolate
eye around the interior of the cabin. The only furniture, excepting a
washing-tub, and a wooden press, called in Scotland an AMBRY, sorely
decayed, was a large wooden bed, planked, as is usual, all around, and
opening by a sliding panel. In this recess the Highlanders deposited
Waverley, after he had by signs declined any refreshment. His slumbers
were broken and unrefreshing; strange visions passed before his eyes,
and it required constant and reiterated efforts of mind to dispel them.
Shivering, violent headache, and shooting pains in his limbs, succeeded
these symptoms; and in the morning it was evident to his Highland
attendants or guard, for he knew not in which light to consider them,
that Waverley was quite unfit to travel. After a long consultation
among themselves, six of the party left the hut with their arms, leaving
behind an old and a young man. The former addressed Waverley, and bathed
the contusions, which swelling and livid colour now made conspicuous.
His own portmanteau, which the Highlanders had not failed to bring off,
supplied him with linen, and, to his great surprise, was, with all its
undiminished contents, freely resigned to his use. The bedding of his
couch seemed clean and comfortable, and his aged attendant closed the
door of the bed, for it had no curtain, after a few words of Gaelic,
from which Waverley gathered that he exhorted him to repose. So behold
our hero for a second time the patient of a Highland Aesculapius, but
in a situation much more uncomfortable than when he was the guest of the
worthy Tomanrait.

The symptomatic fever which accompanied the injuries he had sustained
did not abate till the third day, when it gave way to the care of his
attendants and the strength of his constitution, and he could now raise
himself in his bed, though not without pain. He observed, however, that
there was a great disinclination, on the part of the old woman who acted
as his nurse, as well as on that of the elderly Highlander, to permit
the door of the bed to be left open, so that he might amuse himself with
observing their motions; and at length, after Waverley had repeatedly
drawn open, and they had as frequently shut, the hatchway of his cage,
the old gentleman put an end to the contest, by securing it on the
outside with a nail, so effectually that the door could not be drawn
till this exterior impediment was removed.

While musing upon the cause of this contradictory spirit in persons
whose conduct intimated no purpose of plunder, and who, in all other
points, appeared to consult his welfare and his wishes, it occurred to
our hero, that, during the worst crisis of his illness, a female figure,
younger than his old Highland nurse, had appeared to flit around his
couch. Of this, indeed, he had but a very indistinct recollection, but
his suspicions were confirmed when, attentively listening, he often
heard, in the course of the day, the voice of another female conversing
in whispers with his attendant. Who could it be? And why should she
apparently desire concealment? Fancy immediately roused herself, and
turned to Flora Mac-Ivor. But after a short conflict between his eager
desire to believe she was in his neighbourhood, guarding, like an angel
of mercy, the couch of his sickness, Waverley was compelled to conclude
that his conjecture was altogether improbable; since, to suppose she had
left the comparatively safe situation at Glennaquoich to descend into
the Low Country, now the seat of civil war, and to inhabit such a
lurking-place as this, was a thing hardly to be imagined. Yet his heart
bounded as he sometimes could distinctly hear the trip of a light female
step glide to or from the door of the hut, or the suppressed sounds of
a female voice, of softness and delicacy, hold dialogue with the hoarse
inward croak of old Janet, for so he understood his antiquated attendant
was denominated.

Having nothing else to amuse his solitude, he employed himself in
contriving some plan to gratify his curiosity, in spite of the sedulous
caution of Janet and the old Highland janizary, for he had never seen
the young fellow since the first morning. At length, upon accurate
examination, the infirm state of his wooden prison-house appeared to
supply the means of gratifying his curiosity, for out of a spot which
was somewhat decayed he was able to extract a nail. Through this minute
aperture he could perceive a female form, wrapped in a plaid, in the act
of conversing with Janet. But, since the days of our grandmother Eve,
the gratification of inordinate curiosity has generally borne its
penalty in disappointment. The form was not that of Flora, nor was the
face visible; and, to crown his vexation, while he laboured with the
nail to enlarge the hole, that he might obtain a more complete view,
a slight noise betrayed his purpose, and the object of his curiosity
instantly disappeared; nor, so far as he could observe, did she again
revisit the cottage.

All precautions to blockade his view were from that time abandoned, and
he was not only permitted, but assisted to rise and quit what had been,
in a literal sense, his couch of confinement. But he was not allowed to
leave the hut; for the young Highlander had now rejoined his senior, and
one or other was constantly on the watch. Whenever Waverley approached
the cottage door, the sentinel upon duty civilly, but resolutely, placed
himself against it and opposed his exit, accompanying his action with
signs which seemed to imply there was danger in the attempt, and an
enemy in the neighbourhood. Old Janet appeared anxious and upon the
watch; and Waverley, who had not yet recovered strength enough to
attempt to take his departure in spite of the opposition of his hosts,
was under the necessity of remaining patient. His fare was, in every
point of view, better than he could have conceived; for poultry,
and even wine, were no strangers to his table. The Highlanders never
presumed to eat with him, and unless in the circumstance of watching
him, treated him with great respect. His sole amusement was gazing from
the window, or rather the shapeless aperture which was meant to answer
the purpose of a window, upon large and rough brook, which raged and
foamed through a rocky channel, closely canopied with trees and bushes,
about ten feet beneath the site of his house of captivity.

Upon the sixth day of his confinement, Waverley found himself so well,
that he began to meditate his escape from this dull and miserable
prison-house, thinking any risk which he might incur in the attempt
preferable to the stupefying and intolerable uniformity of Janet's
retirement. The question indeed occurred, whither he was to direct his
course when again at his own disposal. Two schemes seemed practicable,
yet both attended with danger and difficulty. One was to go back to
Glennaquoich, and join Fergus Mac-Ivor, by whom he was sure to be kindly
received; and in the present state of his mind, the rigour with which
he had been treated fully absolved him, in his own eyes, from his
allegiance to the existing government. The other project was to
endeavour to attain a Scottish seaport, and thence to take shipping for
England. His mind wavered between these plans; and probably, if he
had effected his escape in the manner he proposed, he would have been
finally determined by the comparative facility by which either might
have been executed. But his fortune had settled that he was not to be
left to his option.

Upon the evening of the seventh day the door of the hut suddenly opened,
and two Highlanders entered, whom Waverley recognized as having been a
part of his original escort to this cottage. They conversed for a
short time with the old man and his companion, and then made Waverley
understand, by very significant signs, that he was to prepare to
accompany them. This was a joyful communication. What had already passed
during his confinement made it evident that no personal injury was
designed to him; and his romantic spirit, having recovered during
his repose much of that elasticity which anxiety, resentment,
disappointment, and the mixture of unpleasant feelings excited by
his late adventures, had for a time subjugated, was now wearied with
inaction. His passion for the wonderful, although it is the nature of
such dispositions to be excited, by that degree of danger which merely
gives dignity to the feeling of the individual exposed to it, had sunk
under the extraordinary and apparently, insurmountable evils by which
he appeared environed at Cairnvreckan. In fact, this compound of intense
curiosity and exalted imagination forms a peculiar species of
courage, which somewhat resembles the light usually carried by a
miner,--sufficiently competent, indeed, to afford him guidance and
comfort during the ordinary perils of his labour, but certain to
be extinguished should he encounter the more formidable hazard of
earth-damps or pestiferous vapours. It was now, however, once more
rekindled, and with a throbbing mixture of hope, awe, and anxiety,
Waverley watched the group before him, as those who had just arrived
snatched a hasty meal, and the others assumed their arms, and made brief
preparations for their departure.

As he sat in the smoky hut, at some distance from the fire, around which
the others were crowded, he felt a gentle pressure upon his arm. He
looked round--it was Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean. She showed
him a packet of papers in such a manner that the motion was remarked by
no one else, put her finger for a second to her lips, and passed on, as
if to assist old Janet in packing Waverley's clothes in his portmanteau.
It was obviously her wish that he should not seem to recognize her; yet
she repeatedly looked back at him, as an opportunity occurred of doing
so unobserved, and when she saw that he remarked what she did, she
folded the packet with great address and speed in one of his shirts,
which she deposited in the portmanteau.

Here then was fresh food for conjecture. Was Alice his unknown warden,
and was this maiden of the cavern the tutelar genius that watched his
bed during his sickness? Was he in the hands of her father? and if
so, what was his purpose? Spoil, his usual object, seemed in this case
neglected; for not only Waverley's property was restored, but his purse,
which might have tempted this professional plunderer, had been all along
suffered to remain in his possession. All this perhaps the packet might
explain; but it was plain from Alice's manner that she desired he should
consult it in secret. Nor did she again seek his eye after she had
satisfied herself that her manoeuvre was observed and understood. On the
contrary, she shortly afterwards left the hut, and it was only as she
tripped out from the door, that, favoured by the obscurity, she gave
Waverley a parting smile and nod of significance, ere she vanished in
the dark glen.

The young Highlander was repeatedly dispatched by his comrades as if to
collect intelligence. At length when he had returned for the third
or fourth time, the whole party arose, and made signs to our hero to
accompany them. Before his departure, however, he shook hands with old
Janet, who had been so sedulous in his behalf, and added substantial
marks of his gratitude for her attendance.

'God bless you! God prosper you, Captain Waverley!' said Janet, in good
Lowland Scotch, though he had never hitherto heard her utter a syllable,
save in Gaelic. But the impatience of his attendants prohibited his
asking any explanation.



CHAPTER XXXVIII

A NOCTURNAL ADVENTURE

There was a moment's pause when the whole party had got out of the
hut; and the Highlander who assumed the command, and who, in Waverley's
awakened recollection, seemed to be the same tall figure who had acted
as Donald Bean Lean's lieutenant, by whispers and signs imposed the
strictest silence. He delivered to Edward a sword and steel pistol, and,
pointing up the tract, laid his hand on the hilt of his own claymore,
as if to make him sensible they might have occasion to use force to make
good their passage. He then placed himself at the head of the party,
who moved up the pathway in single or Indian file, Waverley being placed
nearest to their leader. He moved with great precaution, as if to avoid
giving any alarm, and halted as soon as he came to the verge of the
ascent. Waverley was soon sensible of the reason, for he heard at no
great distance an English sentinel call out 'All's well.' The heavy
sound sank on the night-wind down the woody glen, and was answered by
the echoes of its banks. A second, third, and fourth time, the signal
was repeated, fainter and fainter, as if at a greater and greater
distance. It was obvious that a party of soldiers were near, and upon
their guard, though not sufficiently so to detect men skilful in every
art of predatory warfare, like those with whom he now watched their
ineffectual precautions.

When these sounds had died upon the silence of the night, the
Highlanders began their march swiftly, yet with the most cautious
silence. Waverley had little time, or indeed disposition, for
observation, and could only discern that; they passed at some distance
from a large building, in the windows of which a light or two yet seemed
to twinkle. A little farther on, the leading Highlander snuffed the wind
like a setting spaniel, and then made a signal to his party again to
halt. He stooped down upon all-fours, wrapped up in his plaid, so as to
be scarce distinguishable from the heathy ground on which he moved, and
advanced in this posture to reconnoitre. In a short time he returned,
and dismissed his attendants excepting one; and, intimating to Waverley
that he must imitate his cautious mode of proceeding, all three crept
forward on hands and knees.

After proceeding a greater way in this inconvenient manner than was at
all comfortable to his knees and shins, Waverley perceived the smell
of smoke, which probably had been much sooner distinguished by the more
acute nasal organs of his guide. It proceeded from the corner of a low
and ruinous sheepfold, the walls of which were made of loose stones,
as is usual in Scotland. Close by this low wall the Highlander guided
Waverley, and, in order probably to make him sensible of his danger, or
perhaps to obtain the full credit of his own dexterity, he intimated
to him, by sign and example, that he might raise his head so as to peep
into the sheepfold. Waverley did so, and beheld an outpost of four or
five soldiers lying by their watch-fire. They were all asleep, except
the sentinel, who paced backwards and forwards with his firelock on his
shoulder, which glanced red in the light of the fire as he crossed and
recrossed before it in his short walk, casting his eye frequently to
that part of the heavens from which the moon, hitherto obscured by mist,
seemed now about to make her appearance,

In the course of a minute or two, by one of those sudden changes of
atmosphere incident to a mountainous country, a breeze arose, and swept
before it the clouds which had covered the horizon, and the night planet
poured her full effulgence upon a wide and blighted heath, skirted
indeed with copsewood and stunted trees in the quarter from which they
had come, but open and bare to the observation of the sentinel in
that to which their course tended. The wall of the sheepfold, indeed,
concealed them as they lay, but any advance beyond its shelter seemed
impossible without certain discovery.

The Highlander eyed the blue vault, but far from blessing the useful
light with Homer's, or rather Pope's, benighted peasant, he muttered a
Gaelic curse upon the unseasonable splendour of MAC-FARLANE'S BUAT
(i. e. lantern). [See Note 21.] He looked anxiously around for a few
minutes, and then apparently took his resolution. Leaving his attendant
with Waverley, after motioning to Edward to remain quiet, and giving
his comrade directions in a brief whisper, he retreated, favoured by the
irregularity of the ground, in the same direction and in the same manner
as they had advanced. Edward, turning his head after him, could perceive
him crawling on all-fours with the dexterity of an Indian, availing
himself of every bush and inequality to escape observation, and never
passing over the more exposed parts of his track until the sentinel's
back was turned from him. At length he reached the thickets and
underwood which partly covered the moor in that direction, and probably
extended to the verge of the glen where Waverley had been so long
an inhabitant. The Highlander disappeared, but it was only for a few
minutes, for he suddenly issued forth from a different part of the
thicket, and advancing boldly upon the open heath, as if to invite
discovery, he levelled his piece, and fired at the sentinel. A wound
in the arm proved a disagreeable interruption to the poor fellow's
meteorological observations, as well as to the tune of 'Nancy Dawson,'
which he was whistling. He returned the fire ineffectually, and his
comrades, starting up at the alarm, advanced alertly towards the spot
from which the first shot had issued. The Highlander, after giving them
a full view of his person, dived among the thickets, for his RUSE DE
GUERRE had now perfectly succeeded.

While the soldiers pursued the cause of their disturbance in one
direction, Waverley, adopting the hint of his remaining attendant, made
the best of his speed in that which his guide originally intended to
pursue, and which now (the attention of the soldiers being drawn to a
different quarter) was unobserved and unguarded. When they had run
about a quarter of a mile, the brow of a rising ground, which they had
surmounted, concealed them from further risk of observation. They
still heard, however, at a distance, the shouts of the soldiers as they
hallooed to each other upon the heath, and they could also hear the
distant roll of a drum beating to arms in the same direction. But these
hostile sounds were now far in their rear, and died away upon the breeze
as they rapidly proceeded.

When they had walked about half an hour, still along open and waste
ground of the same description, they came to the stump of an ancient
oak, which, from its relics, appeared to have been at one time a tree of
very large size. In an adjacent hollow they found several Highlanders,
with a horse or two. They had not joined them above a few minutes, which
Waverley's attendant employed, in all probability, in communicating
the cause of their delay (for the words 'Duncan Duroch' were often
repeated), when Duncan himself appeared, out of breath indeed, and with
all the symptoms of having run for his life, but laughing, and in high
spirits at the success of the stratagem by which he had baffled his
pursuers. This, indeed, Waverley could easily conceive might be a matter
of no great difficulty to the active mountaineer, who was perfectly
acquainted with the ground, and traced his course with a firmness and
confidence to which his pursuers must have been strangers. The alarm
which he excited seemed still to continue, for a dropping shot or two
were heard at a great distance, which seemed to serve as an addition to
the mirth of Duncan and his comrades.

The mountaineer now resumed the arms with which he had entrusted our
hero, giving him to understand that the dangers of the journey were
happily surmounted. Waverley was then mounted upon one of the horses,
a change which the fatigue of the night and his recent illness rendered
exceedingly acceptable. His portmanteau was placed on another
pony, Duncan mounted a third, and they set forward at a round pace,
accompanied by their escort. No other incident marked the course of that
night's journey, and at the dawn of morning they attained the banks of a
rapid river. The country around was at once fertile and romantic. Steep
banks of wood were broken by cornfields, which this year presented an
abundant harvest, already in a great measure cut down.

On the opposite bank of the river, and partly surrounded by a winding of
its stream, stood a large and massive castle, the half-ruined turrets
of which were already glittering in the first rays of the sun. [See Note
22.] It was in form an oblong square, of size sufficient to contain a
large court in the centre. The towers at each angle of the square rose
higher than the walls of the building, and were in their turn surmounted
by turrets, differing in height, and irregular in shape. Upon one of
these a sentinel watched, whose bonnet and plaid, streaming in the wind,
declared him to be a Highlander, as a broad white ensign, which
floated from another tower, announced that the garrison was held by the
insurgent adherents of the House of Stuart.

Passing hastily through a small and mean town, where their appearance
excited neither surprise nor curiosity in the few peasants whom the
labours of the harvest began to summon from their repose, the party
crossed an ancient and narrow bridge of several arches, and turning to
the left, up an avenue of huge old sycamores, Waverley found himself in
front of the gloomy yet picturesque structure which he had admired at a
distance. A huge iron-grated door, which formed the exterior defence
of the gateway, was already thrown back to receive them; and a second,
heavily constructed of oak, and studded thickly with iron nails, being
next opened, admitted them into the interior courtyard. A gentleman,
dressed in the Highland garb, and having a white cockade in his bonnet,
assisted Waverley to dismount from his horse, and with much courtesy bid
him welcome to the castle.

The governor for so we must term him, having conducted Waverley to a
half-ruinous apartment, where, however, there was a small camp-bed, and
having offered him any refreshment which he desired, was then about to
leave him.

'Will you not add to your civilities,' said Waverley, after having made
the usual acknowledgement, 'by having the kindness to inform me where I
am, and whether or not I am to consider myself as a prisoner?'

'I am not at liberty to be so explicit upon this subject as I could
wish. Briefly, however, you are in the Castle of Doune, in the district
of Menteith, and in no danger whatever.'

'And how am I assured of that?'

'By the honour of Donald Stewart, governor of the garrison, and
lieutenant-colonel in the service of his Royal Highness Prince Charles
Edward.' So saying, he hastily left the apartment, as if to avoid
further discussion.

Exhausted by the fatigues of the night, our hero now threw himself upon
the bed, and was in a few minutes fast asleep.



CHAPTER XXXIX

THE JOURNEY IS CONTINUED

Before Waverley awakened from his repose, the day was far advanced, and
he began to feel that he had passed many hours without food. This was
soon supplied in form of a copious breakfast, but Colonel Stewart, as
if wishing to avoid the queries of his guest, did not again present
himself. His compliments were, however, delivered by a servant, with an
offer to provide anything in his power that could be useful to Captain
Waverley on his journey, which he intimated would be continued that
evening. To Waverley's further inquiries, the servant opposed the
impenetrable barrier of real or affected ignorance and stupidity. He
removed the table and provisions, and Waverley was again consigned to
his own meditations.

As he contemplated the strangeness of his fortune, which seemed to
delight in placing him at the disposal of others, without the power
of directing his own motions, Edward's eye suddenly rested upon his
portmanteau, which had been deposited in his apartment during his
sleep. The mysterious appearance of Alice, in the cottage of the glen,
immediately rushed upon his mind, and he was about to secure and examine
the packet which she had deposited among his clothes, when the
servant of Colonel Stewart again made his appearance, and took up the
portmanteau upon his shoulders.

'May I not take out a change of linen, my friend?'

'Your honour sall get ane o' the Colonel's ain ruffled sarks, but this
maun gang in the baggage-cart.'

And so saying, he very coolly carried off the portmanteau, without
waiting further remonstrance, leaving our hero in a state where
disappointment and indignation struggled for the mastery. In a few
minutes he heard a cart rumble out of the rugged courtyard, and made
no doubt that he was now dispossessed, for a space at least, if not for
ever, of the only documents which seemed to promise some light upon
the dubious events which had of late influenced his destiny. With
such melancholy thoughts he had to beguile about four or five hours of
solitude.

When this space was elapsed, the trampling of horse was heard in the
courtyard, and Colonel Stewart soon after made his appearance to request
his guest to take some further refreshment before his departure. The
offer was accepted, for a late breakfast had by no means left our
hero incapable of doing honour to dinner, which was now presented. The
conversation of his host was that of a plain country gentleman, mixed
with some soldier-like sentiments and expressions. He cautiously avoided
any reference to the military operations or civil politics of the time:
and to Waverley's direct inquiries concerning some of these points,
replied, that he was not at liberty to speak upon such topics.

When dinner was finished, the governor arose, and, wishing Edward a good
journey, said, that having been informed by Waverley's servant that his
baggage had been sent forward, he had taken the freedom to supply him
with such changes of linen as he might find necessary, till he was again
possessed of his own. With this compliment he disappeared. A servant
acquainted Waverley an instant afterwards, that his horse was ready.

Upon this hint he descended into the courtyard, and found a trooper
holding a saddled horse, on which he mounted, and sallied from the
portal of Doune Castle, attended by about a score of armed men on
horseback. These had less the appearance of regular soldiers than of
individuals who had suddenly assumed arms from some pressing motive of
unexpected emergency. Their uniform, which was blue and red, an affected
imitation of that of French chasseurs, was in many respects incomplete,
and sat awkwardly upon those who wore it. Waverley's eye, accustomed
to look at a well-disciplined regiment, could easily discover that the
motions and habits of his escort were not those of trained soldiers, and
that, although expert enough in the management of their horses, their
skill was that of huntsmen or grooms, rather than of troopers. The
horses were not trained to the regular pace so necessary to execute
simultaneous and combined movements and formations; nor did they seem
BITTED (as it is technically expressed) for the use of the sword.
The men, however, were stout, hardy-looking fellows, and might be
individually formidable as irregular cavalry. The commander of this
small party was mounted upon an excellent hunter, and although dressed
in uniform, his change of apparel did not prevent Waverley from
recognizing his old acquaintance, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple.

Now, although the terms upon which Edward had parted with this
gentleman were none of the most friendly, he would have sacrificed every
recollection of their foolish quarrel for the pleasure of enjoying once
more the social intercourse of question and answer, from which he had
been so long secluded. But apparently the remembrance of his defeat by
the Baron of Bradwardine, of which Edward had been the unwilling cause,
still rankled in the mind of the low-bred, and yet proud laird. He
carefully avoided giving the least sign of recognition, riding doggedly
at the head of his men, who, though scarce equal in numbers to a
sergeant's party, were denominated Captain Falconer's troop, being
preceded by a trumpet, which sounded from time to time, and a standard,
borne by Cornet Falconer, the laird's young brother. The lieutenant, an
elderly man, had much the air of a low sportsman and boon companion; an
expression of dry humour predominated in his countenance over features
of a vulgar cast, which indicated habitual intemperance. His cocked hat
was set knowingly upon one side of his head, and while he whistled the
'Bob of Dumblain,' under the influence of half a mutchkin of brandy, he
seemed to fret merrily forward, with a happy indifference to the state
of the country, the conduct of the party, the end of the journey, and
all other sublunary matters whatever.

From this wight, who now and then dropped alongside of his horse,
Waverley hoped to acquire some information, or at least to beguile the
way with talk.

'A fine evening, sir,' was Edward's salutation.

'Ow, aye, sir! a bra' night,' replied the lieutenant, in broad Scotch of
the most vulgar description.

'And a fine harvest, apparently,' continued Waverley, following up his
first attack.

'Aye, the aits will be got bravely in: but the farmers, deil burst them,
and the corn-mongers will make the auld price gude against them as has
horses till keep.'

'You perhaps act as quarter-master, sir?'

'Aye, quarter-master, riding-master, and lieutenant,' answered this
officer of all work. 'And, to be sure, wha's fitter to look after the
breaking and the keeping of the poor beasts than mysell, that bought and
sold every ane o' them?'

'And pray, sir, if it be not too great a freedom, may I beg to know
where we are going just now?'

'A fule's errand, I fear,' answered this communicative personage.

'In that case,' said Waverley, determined not to spare civility, 'I
should have thought a person of your appearance would not have been
found on the road.'

'Vera true, vera true, sir,' replied the officer, 'but every why has its
wherefore. Ye maun ken, the laird there bought a' thir beasts frae'
me to munt his troop, and agreed to pay for them according to the
necessities and prices of the time. But then he hadna the ready penny,
and I hae been advised his bond will not be worth a boddle against the
estate, and then I had a' my dealers to settle wi' at Martinmas; and so
as he very kindly offered me this commission, and as the auld Fifteen
[The Judges of the Supreme Court of Session in Scotland are proverbially
termed, among the country people, The Fifteen.] wad never help me to my
siller for sending out naigs against the Government, why, conscience!
sir, I thought my best chance for payment was e'en to GAE OUT mysell;
and ye may judge, sir, as I hae dealt a' my life in halters, I think na
mickle o' putting my craig in peril of a St. Johnstone's tippet.' [TO GO
OUT, or TO HAVE BEEN OUT, in Scotland, was a conventional phrase similar
to that of the Irish respecting a man having been UP, both having
reference to an individual who had been engaged in insurrection. It was
accounted ill-breeding in Scotland, about forty years since, to use the
phrase rebellion or rebel, which might be interpreted by some of the
parties present as a personal insult. It was also esteemed more polite
even for stanch Whigs to denominate Charles Edward the Chevalier,
than to speak of him as the Pretender; and this kind of accommodating
courtesy was usually observed in society where individuals of each party
mixed on friendly terms.]

'You are not, then, by profession a soldier?' said Waverley.

'Na, na; thank God,' answered this doughty partisan, 'I wasna bred at
sae short a tether; I was brought up to hack and manger. I was bred a
horse-couper, sir; and if I might live to see you at Whitson-tryst, or
at Stagshawbank, or the winter fair at Hawick, and ye wanted a spanker
that would lead the field, I'se be caution I would serve ye easy; for
Jamie Jinker was ne'er the lad to impose upon a gentleman. Ye're
a gentleman, sir, and should ken a horse's points; ye see that
through-ganging thing that Balmawhapple's on; I selled her till him.
She was bred out of Lick-the-Ladle, that wan the king's plate at
Caverton-Edge, by Duke Hamilton's White-foot,' &c. &c. &c.

But as Jinker was entered full sail upon the pedigree of Balmawhapple's
mare, having already got as far as great-grandsire and great-grand-dam,
and while Waverley was watching for an opportunity to obtain from him
intelligence of more interest, the noble captain checked his horse until
they came up, and then, without directly appearing to notice Edward,
said sternly to the genealogist, 'I thought, lieutenant', my orders were
preceese, that no one should speak to the prisoner?'

The metamorphosed horse-dealer was silenced of course, and slunk to the
rear, where he consoled himself by entering into a vehement dispute upon
the price of hay with a farmer, who had reluctantly followed his laird
to the field, rather than give up his farm, whereof the lease had
just expired. Waverley was therefore once more consigned to silence,
foreseeing that further attempts at conversation with any of the party
would only give Balmawhapple a wished-for opportunity to display the
insolence of authority, and the sulky spite of a temper naturally
dogged, and rendered more so by habits of low indulgence and the incense
of servile adulation.

In about two hours' time, the party were near the Castle of Stirling,
over whose battlements the union flag was brightened as it waved in the
evening sun. To shorten his journey or perhaps to display his importance
and insult the English garrison, Balmawhapple, inclining to the right,
took his route through the royal park, which reaches to and surrounds
the rock upon which the fortress is situated.

With a mind more at ease, Waverley could not have failed to admire
the mixture of romance and beauty which renders interesting the scene
through which he was now passing--the field which had been the scene
of the tournaments of old--the rock from which the ladies beheld
the contest, while each made vows for the success of some favourite
knight--the towers of the Gothic church, where these vows might be
paid--and, surmounting all, the fortress itself, at once a castle and
palace, where valour received the prize from royalty, and knights and
dames closed the evening amid the revelry of the dance, the song,
and the feast. All these were objects fitted to arouse and interest a
romantic imagination.

But Waverley had other objects of meditation, and an incident soon
occurred of a nature to disturb meditation of any kind. Balmawhapple, in
the pride of his heart, as he wheeled his little body of cavalry round
the base of the castle, commanded his trumpet to sound a flourish,
and his standard to be displayed. This insult produced apparently
some sensation; for when the cavalcade was at such a distance from the
southern battery as to admit of a gun being depressed so as to bear upon
them, a flash of fire issued from one of the embrasures upon the rock;
and ere the report with which it was attended could be heard, the
rushing sound of a cannon-ball passed over Balmawhapple's head, and the
bullet, burying itself in the ground at a few yards' distance, covered
him with the earth which it drove up. There was no need to bid the party
trudge. In fact, every man, acting upon the impulse of the moment, soon
brought Mr. Jinker's steeds to show their mettle, and the cavaliers,
retreating with more speed than regularity, never took to a trot, as
the lieutenant afterwards observed, until an intervening eminence had
secured them from any repetition of so undesirable a compliment on the
part of Stirling Castle. I must do Balmawhapple, however, the justice
to say, that he not only kept the rear of his troop, and laboured to
maintain some order among them, but, in the height of his gallantry,
answered the fire of the castle by discharging one of his horse-pistols
at the battlements; although, the distance being nearly half a mile, I
could never learn that this measure of retaliation was attended with any
particular effect.

The travellers now passed the memorable field of Bannockburn, and
reached the Torwood,--a place glorious or terrible to the recollections
of the Scottish peasant, as the feats of Wallace, or the cruelties of
Wude Willie Grime, predominate in his recollection. At Falkirk, a town
formerly famous in Scottish history, and soon to be again distinguished
as the scene of military events of importance, Balmawhapple proposed
to halt and repose for the evening. This was performed with very little
regard to military discipline, his worthy quarter-master being chiefly
solicitous to discover where the best brandy might be come at. Sentinels
were deemed unnecessary, and the only vigils performed were those of
such of the party as could procure liquor. A few resolute men might
easily have cut off the detachment; but of the inhabitants some
were favourable, many indifferent, and the rest overawed. So nothing
memorable occurred in the course of the evening, except that Waverley's
rest was sorely interrupted by the revellers hallooing forth their
Jacobite songs, without remorse or mitigation of voice.

Early in the morning they were again mounted, and on the road to
Edinburgh, though the pallid visages of some of the troop betrayed
that they had spent a night of sleepless debauchery. They halted at
Linlithgow, distinguished by its ancient palace, which, Sixty Years
since, was entire and habitable, and whose venerable ruins, not quite
Sixty Years since, very narrowly escaped the unworthy fate of being
converted into a barrack for French prisoners. May repose and blessings
attend the ashes of the patriotic statesman, who, amongst his last
services to Scotland, interposed to prevent this profanation!

As they approached the metropolis of Scotland, through a champaign and
cultivated country, the sounds of war began to be heard. The distant,
yet distinct report of heavy cannon, fired at intervals, apprized
Waverley that the work of destruction was going forward. Even
Balmawhapple seemed moved to take some precautions, by sending an
advanced party in front of his troop, keeping the main body in tolerable
order, and moving steadily forward.

Marching in this manner they speedily reached an eminence, from which
they could view Edinburgh stretching along the ridgy hill which slopes
eastward from the Castle. The latter, being in a state of siege, or
rather of blockade, by the northern insurgents, who had already occupied
the town for two or three days, fired at intervals upon such parties
of Highlanders as exposed themselves, either on the main street, or
elsewhere in the vicinity of the fortress. The morning being calm and
fair, the effect of this dropping fire was to invest the Castle in
wreaths of smoke, the edges of which dissipated slowly in the air, while
the central veil was darkened ever and anon by fresh clouds poured forth
from the battlements; the whole giving, by the partial concealment, an
appearance of grandeur and gloom, rendered more terrific when Waverley
reflected on the cause by which it was produced, and that each explosion
might ring some brave man's knell.

Ere they approached the city, the partial cannonade had wholly ceased.
Balmawhapple, however, having in his recollection the unfriendly
greeting which his troop had received from the battery of Stirling,
had apparently no wish to tempt the forbearance of the artillery of the
Castle. He therefore left the direct road, and sweeping considerably to
the southward, so as to keep out of the range of the cannon, approached
the ancient palace of Holyrood, without having entered the walls of
the city. He then drew up his men in front of that venerable pile,
and delivered Waverley to the custody of a guard of Highlanders, whose
officer conducted him into the interior of the building.

A long, low, and ill-proportioned gallery, hung with pictures, affirmed
to be the portraits of kings, who, if they ever flourished at all, lived
several hundred years before the invention of painting in oil colours,
served as a sort of guard-chamber, or vestibule, to the apartments
which the adventurous Charles Edward now occupied in the palace of his
ancestors. Officers, both in the Highland and Lowland garb, passed and
repassed in haste, or loitered in the hall, as if waiting for orders.
Secretaries were engaged in making out passes, musters, and returns.
All seemed busy, and earnestly intent upon something of importance;
but Waverley was suffered to remain seated in the recess of a window,
unnoticed by any one, in anxious reflection upon the crisis of his fate,
which seemed now rapidly approaching.



CHAPTER XL

AN OLD AND A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

While he was deep sunk in his reverie, the rustle of tartans was heard
behind him, a friendly arm clasped his shoulders, and a friendly voice
exclaimed,

'Said the Highland prophet sooth?--or must second-sight go for nothing?'

Waverley turned, and was warmly embraced by Fergus Mac-Ivor. 'A thousand
welcomes to Holyrood, once more possessed by her legitimate sovereign!
Did I not say we should prosper, and that you would fall into the hands
of the Philistines if you parted from us?'

'Dear Fergus!' said Waverley, eagerly returning his greeting, 'it is
long since I have heard a friend's voice. Where is Flora?'

'Safe, and a triumphant spectator of our success.'

'In this place?' said Waverley.

'Aye, in this city at least,' answered his friend, 'and you shall see
her; but first you must meet a friend whom you little think of, who has
been frequent in his inquiries after you.'

Thus saying, he dragged Waverley by the arm out of the guard-chamber,
and, ere he knew where he was conducted, Edward found himself in a
presence-room, fitted up with some attempt at royal state.

A young man, wearing his own fair hair, distinguished by the dignity
of his mien and the noble expression of his well-formed and regular
features, advanced out of a circle of military gentlemen and Highland
chiefs, by whom he was surrounded. In his easy and graceful manners
Waverley afterwards thought he could have discovered his high birth and
rank, although the star on his breast, and the embroidered garter at his
knee, had not appeared as its indications.

'Let me present to your Royal Highness,' said Fergus, bowing
profoundly--

'The descendant of one of the most ancient and loyal families in
England,' said the young Chevalier, interrupting him. 'I beg your pardon
for interrupting you, my dear Mac-Ivor; but no master of ceremonies is
necessary to present a Waverley to a Stuart.'

Thus saying, he extended his hand to Edward with the utmost courtesy,
who could not, had he desired it, have avoided rendering him the homage
which seemed due to his rank, and was certainly the right of his birth.
'I am sorry to understand, Mr. Waverley, that, owing to circumstances
which have been as yet but ill explained, you have suffered some
restraint among my followers in Perthshire, and on your march here; but
we are in such a situation that we hardly know our friends, and I
am even at this moment uncertain whether I can have the pleasure of
considering Mr. Waverley as among mine.'

He then paused for an instant; but before Edward could adjust a suitable
reply or even arrange his ideas as to its purport, the Prince took out
a paper, and then proceeded:--'I should indeed have no doubts upon this
subject, if I could trust to this proclamation, set forth by the friends
of the Elector of Hanover, in which they rank Mr. Waverley among the
nobility and gentry who are menaced with the pains of high treason for
loyalty to their legitimate sovereign. But I desire to gain no adherents
save from affection and conviction; and if Mr. Waverley inclines
to prosecute his journey to the south, or to join the forces of the
Elector, he shall have my passport and free permission to do so; and I
can only regret, that my present power will not extend to protect him
against the probable consequences of such a measure.--But,' continued
Charles Edward, after another short pause, 'if Mr. Waverley should, like
his ancestor, Sir Nigel, determine to embrace a cause which has little
to recommend it but its justice, and follow a prince who throws
himself upon the affections of his people to recover the throne of his
ancestors, or perish in the attempt, I can only say, that among these
nobles and gentlemen he will find worthy associates in a gallant
enterprise, and will follow a master who may be unfortunate, but, I
trust, will never be ungrateful.'

The politic Chieftain of the race of Ivor knew his advantage in
introducing Waverley to this personal interview with the royal
Adventurer. Unaccustomed to the address and manners of a polished court,
in which Charles was eminently skilful, his words and his kindness
penetrated the heart of our hero, and easily outweighed all prudential
motives. To be thus personally solicited for assistance by a Prince,
whose form and manners, as well as the spirit which he displayed in
this singular enterprise, answered his ideas of a hero of romance; to be
courted by him in the ancient halls of his paternal palace, recovered
by the sword which he was already bending towards other conquests, gave
Edward, in his own eyes, the dignity and importance which he had ceased
to consider as his attributes. Rejected, slandered, and threatened
upon the one side, he was irresistibly attracted to the cause which the
prejudices of education, and the political principles of his family, had
already recommended as the most just. These thoughts rushed through
his mind like a torrent, sweeping before them every consideration of an
opposite tendency,--the time, besides, admitted of no deliberation,--and
Waverley, kneeling to Charles Edward, devoted his heart and sword to the
vindication of his rights!

The Prince (for, although unfortunate in the faults and follies of his
forefathers, we shall here, and elsewhere, give him the title due to
his birth) raised Waverley from the ground, and embraced him with an
expression of thanks too warm not to be genuine. He also thanked
Fergus Mac-Ivor repeatedly for having brought him such an adherent, and
presented Waverley to the various noblemen, chieftains, and officers
who were about his person, as a young gentleman of the highest hopes and
prospects, in whose bold and enthusiastic avowal of his cause they might
see an evidence of the sentiments of the English families of rank at
this important crisis. [See Note 23.] Indeed, this was a point
much doubted among the adherents of the house of Stuart; and as a
well-founded disbelief in the co-operation of the English Jacobites kept
many Scottish men of rank from his standard, and diminished the courage
of those who had joined it, nothing could be more seasonable for the
Chevalier than the open declaration in his favour of the representative
of the house of Waverley-Honour, so long known as cavaliers and
royalists. This Fergus had foreseen from the beginning. He really loved
Waverley, because their feelings and projects never thwarted each other;
he hoped to see him united with Flora, and he rejoiced that they were
effectually engaged in the same cause. But, as we before hinted, he also
exulted as a politician in beholding secured to his party a partisan of
such consequence; and he was far from being insensible to the personal
importance which he himself gained with the Prince, from having so
materially assisted in making the acquisition.

Charles Edward, on his part, seemed eager to show his attendants the
value which he attached to his new adherent, by entering immediately, as
in confidence, upon the circumstances of his situation. 'You have been
secluded so much from intelligence, Mr. Waverley, from causes of which
I am but indistinctly informed, that I presume you are even yet
unacquainted with the important particulars of my present situation. You
have, however, heard of my landing in the remote district of Moidart,
with only seven attendants, and of the numerous chiefs and clans whose
loyal enthusiasm at once placed a solitary adventurer at the head of
a gallant army. You must also, I think, have learned, that the
commander-in-chief of the Hanoverian Elector, Sir John Cope, marched
into the Highlands at the head of a numerous and well-appointed military
force, with the intention of giving us battle, but that his courage
failed him when we were within three hours' march of each other, so that
he fairly gave us the slip, and marched northward to Aberdeen, leaving
the Low Country open and undefended. Not to lose so favourable an
opportunity, I marched on to this metropolis, driving before me two
regiments of horse, Gardiner's and Hamilton's, who had threatened to
cut to pieces every Highlander that should venture to pass Stirling;
and while discussions were carrying forward among the magistracy
and citizens of Edinburgh, whether they should defend themselves or
surrender, my good friend Lochiel (laying his hand on the shoulder
of that gallant and accomplished chieftain) saved them the trouble of
further deliberation, by entering the gates with five hundred Camerons.
Thus far, therefore, we have done well; but, in the meanwhile, this
doughty general's nerves being braced by the keen air of Aberdeen,
he has taken shipping for Dunbar, and I have just received certain
information that he landed there yesterday. His purpose must
unquestionably be to march towards us to recover possession of the
capital. Now, there are two opinions in my council of war: one, that
being inferior probably in numbers, and certainly in discipline and
military appointments, not to mention our total want of artillery, and
the weakness of our cavalry, it will be safest to fall back towards the
mountains, and there protract the war, until fresh succours arrive from
France, and the whole body of the Highland clans shall have taken
arms in our favour. The opposite opinion maintains, that a retrograde
movement, in our circumstances, is certain to throw utter discredit on
our arms and undertaking; and, far from gaining us new partisans, will
be the means of disheartening-those who have joined our standard. The
officers who use these last arguments, among whom is your friend Fergus
Mac-Ivor, maintain, that if the Highlanders are strangers to the usual
military discipline of Europe, the soldiers whom they are to encounter
are no less strangers to their peculiar and formidable mode of attack;
that the attachment and courage of the chiefs and gentlemen are not to
be doubted; and that as they will be in the midst of the enemy, their
clansmen will as surely follow them; in fine, that having drawn the
sword, we should throw away the scabbard, and trust our cause to battle,
and to the God of Battles. Will Mr. Waverley favour us with his opinion
in these arduous circumstances?'

Waverley coloured high betwixt pleasure and modesty at the distinction
implied in this question, and answered, with equal spirit-and readiness,
that he could not venture to offer an opinion as derived from military
skill, but that the counsel would be far the most acceptable to him
which should first afford him an opportunity to evince his zeal in his
Royal Highness's service.

'Spoken like a Waverley!' answered Charles Edward; and that you may hold
a rank in some degree corresponding to your name, allow me, instead of
the captain's commission which you have lost, to offer you the brevet
rank of major in my service, with the advantage of acting as one of my
aides de camp until you can be attached to a regiment, of which I hope
several will be speedily embodied.'

'Your Royal Highness will forgive me,' answered Waverley (for his
recollection turned to Balmawhapple and his scanty troop), 'If I decline
accepting any rank until the time and place where I may have interest
enough to raise a sufficient body of men to make my command useful
to your Royal Highness's service. In the meanwhile, I hope for your
permission to serve as a volunteer under my friend Fergus Mac-Ivor.'

'At least,' said the Prince, who was obviously pleased with this
proposal, 'allow me the pleasure of arming you after the Highland
fashion.' With these words, he unbuckled the broadsword which he wore,
the belt of which was plated with silver, and the steel basket-hilt
richly and curiously inlaid, 'The blade,' said the Prince, 'is a genuine
Andrea Ferrara; it has been a sort of heirloom in our family; but I am
convinced I put it into better hands than my own, and will add to it
pistols of the same workmanship.--Colonel Mac-Ivor, you must have much
to say to your friend; I will detain you no longer from your private
conversation; but remember, we expect you both to attend us in the
evening. It may be perhaps the last night we may enjoy in these halls,
and as we go to the field with a clear conscience, we will spend the eve
of battle merrily.'

Thus licensed, the Chief and Waverley left the presence-chamber.



CHAPTER XLI

THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP

'How do you like him?' was Fergus's first question, as they descended
the large stone staircase.

'A prince to live and die under,' was Waverley's enthusiastic answer.

'I knew you would think so when you saw him, and I intended you should
have met earlier, but was prevented by your sprain. And yet he has
his foibles, or rather he has difficult cards to play, and his
Irish officers, [See note 24.] who are much about him, are but sorry
advisers,--they cannot discriminate among the numerous pretensions that
are set up. Would you think it--I have been obliged for the present to
suppress an earl's patent, granted for services rendered ten years ago,
for fear of exciting the jealousy, forsooth, of C-- and M--. But you
were very right, Edward, to refuse the situation of aide de camp. There
are two vacant, indeed, but Clanronald and Lochiel, and almost all of
us, have requested one for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders and
the Irish party are equally desirous to have the other for the Master
of F--. Now, if either of these candidates were to be superseded in your
favour, you would make enemies. And then I am surprised that the Prince
should have offered you a majority, when he knows very well that nothing
short of lieutenant-colonel will satisfy others, who cannot bring one
hundred and fifty men to the field. "But patience, cousin, and shuffle
the cards!" It is all very well for the present, and we must have you
regularly equipped for the evening in your new costume; for, to say
truth, your outward man is scarce fit for a court.'

'Why,' said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress, 'my shooting-jacket
has seen service since we parted; but that, probably, you, my friend,
know as well or better than I.'

'You do my second-sight too much honour,' said Fergus, 'We were so busy,
first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and afterwards with our
operations in the Lowlands, that I could only give general directions
to such of our people as were left in Perthshire to respect and protect
you, should you come in their way. But let me hear the full story
of your adventures, for they have reached us in a very partial and
mutilated manner.'

Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which the reader
is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with great attention. By
this time they had reached the door of his quarters, which he had
taken up in a small paved court, retiring from the street called the
Canongate, at the house of a buxom widow of forty, who seemed to smile
very graciously upon the handsome young Chief, she being a person
with whom good looks and good humour were sure to secure an interest,
whatever might be the party's political opinions. Here Callum Beg
received them with a smile of recognition. 'Callum,' said the Chief,
'call Shemus an Snachad' (James of the Needle). This was the hereditary
tailor of Vich Ian Vohr. 'Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to wear the CATH DATH
(battle colour, or tartan); his trews must be ready in four hours. You
know the measure of a well-made man: two double nails to the small of
the leg'--

'Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist--I give your honour
leave to hang Shemus, if there's a pair of sheers in the Highlands that
has a baulder sneck than her's ain at the CUMADH AN TRUAIS' (shape of
the trews).

'Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan, and sash,' continued the Chieftain,
'and a blue bonnet of the Prince's pattern, at Mr. Mouat's in the
Crames. My short green coat, with silver lace and silver buttons, will
fit him exactly, and I have never worn it. Tell Ensign Maccombich to
pick out a handsome target from among mine. The Prince has given Mr.
Waverley broadsword and pistols, I will furnish him with a dirk and
purse; add but a pair of low-heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward
(turning to him), you will be a complete son of Ivor.

These necessary directions given, the Chieftain resumed the subject of
Waverley's adventures. 'It is plain,' he said, 'that you have been in
the custody of Donald Bean Lean. You must know, that when I marched away
my clan to join the Prince, I laid my injunctions on that worthy member
of society to perform a certain piece of service, which done, he was to
join me with all the force he could muster. But instead of doing so, the
gentleman, finding the coast clear, thought it better to make war on his
own account, and has scoured the country, plundering, I believe, both
friend and foe, under pretence of levying blackmail, sometimes as if by
my authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his consummate impudence)
in his own great name! Upon my honour, if I live to see the cairn of
Benmore again, I shall be tempted to hang that fellow! I recognize his
hand particularly in the mode of your rescue from that canting rascal
Gilfillan, and I have little doubt that Donald himself played the part
of the pedlar on that occasion; but how he should not have plundered
you, or put you to ransom, or availed himself in some way or other of
your captivity for his own advantage, passes my judgement.'

'When and how did you hear the intelligence of my confinement?' asked
Waverley.

'The Prince himself told me,' said Fergus,' and inquired very minutely
into your history. He then mentioned your being at that moment in the
power of one of our northern parties--you know I could not ask him to
explain particulars--and requested my opinion about disposing of you. I
recommended that you should be brought here as a prisoner, because I did
not wish to prejudice you further with the English Government, in case
you pursued your purpose of going southward. I knew nothing, you must
recollect, of the charge brought against you of aiding and abetting
high treason, which, I presume, had some share in changing your original
plan. That sullen, good-for-nothing brute, Balmawhapple, was sent to
escort you from Doune, with what he calls his troop of horse. As to
his behaviour, in addition to his natural antipathy to everything that
resembles a gentleman, I presume his adventure with Bradwardine rankles
in his recollection, the rather that I dare say his mode of telling
that story contributed to the evil reports which reached your quondam
regiment.'

'Very likely,' said Waverley; 'but now surely, my dear Fergus, you may
find time to tell me something of Flora.'

'Why,' replied Fergus, 'I can only tell you that she is well, and
residing for the present with a relation in this city. I thought it
better she should come here, as since our success a good many ladies of
rank attend our military court; and I assure you, that there is a sort
of consequence annexed to the near relative of such a person as Flora
Mac-Ivor; and where there is such a justling of claims and requests, a
man must use every fair means to enhance his importance.'

There was something in this last sentence which grated on Waverley's
feelings. He could not bear that Flora should be considered as
conducing to her brother's preferment, by the admiration which she must
unquestionably attract; and although it was in strict correspondence
with many points of Fergus's character, it shocked him as selfish,
and unworthy of his sister's high mind, and his own independent pride.
Fergus, to whom such manoeuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at
the French court, did not observe the unfavourable impression which he
had unwarily made upon his friend's mind, and concluded by saying, that
they could hardly see Flora before the evening, when she would be at the
concert and ball, with which the Prince's party were to be entertained.
She and I had a quarrel about her not appearing to take leave of you. I
am unwilling to renew it, by soliciting her to receive you this morning;
and perhaps my doing so might not only be ineffectual, but prevent your
meeting this evening.'

While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the windows
of the parlour, a well-known voice. 'I aver to you, my worthy
friend,' said the speaker, 'that it is a total dereliction of military
discipline; and were you not as it were a TYRO, your purpose would
deserve strong reprobation. For a prisoner of war is on no account to be
coerced with fetters, or detained IN ERGASTULO, as would have been
the case had you put this gentleman into the pit of the peel-house at
Balmawhapple. I grant, indeed, that such a prisoner may for security be
coerced IN CARCERE, that is, in a public prison.'

The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave in
displeasure, but the word 'land-louper' alone was distinctly audible. He
had disappeared before Waverley reached the house, in order to greet the
worthy Baron of Bradwardine. The uniform in which he was now attired, a
blue coat, namely, with gold lace, a scarlet waistcoat and breeches, and
immense jack-boots, seemed to have added fresh stiffness and rigidity
to his tall, perpendicular figure; and the consciousness of military
command and authority had increased, in the same proportion, the
self-importance of his demeanour, and the dogmatism of his conversation.

He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed immediate
anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances attending the loss
of his commission in Gardiner's dragoons; 'not,' he said, 'that he had
the least apprehension of his young friend having done aught which could
merit such ungenerous treatment as he had received from Government, but
because it was right and seemly that the Baron of Bradwardine should
be, in point of trust and in point of power, fully able to refute all
calumnies against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom he had so much right
to regard as his own son.'

Fergus Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went hastily over the
circumstances of Waverley's story, and concluded with the flattering
reception he had met from the young Chevalier. The Baron listened in
silence, and at the conclusion shook Waverley heartily by the hand, and
congratulated him upon entering the service of his lawful Prince. 'For,'
continued he, 'although it has been justly held in all nations a matter
of scandal and dishonour to infringe the SACRAMENTUM MILITARE, and
that whether it was taken by each soldier singly, whilk the Romans
denominated PER CONJURATIONEM, or by one soldier in name of the rest,
yet no one ever doubted that the allegiance so sworn was discharged by
the DIMISSIO, or discharging of a soldier, whose case would be as hard
as that of colliers, salters, and other ADSCRIPTI GLEBAE, or slaves of
the soil, were it to be accounted otherwise. This is something like the
brocard expressed by the learned Sanchez in his work DE JURE-JURANDO,
which you have questionless consulted upon this occasion. As for those
who have calumniated you by leasing-making, I protest to Heaven I think
they have justly incurred the penalty of the MEMNONIA LEX, also called
LEX RHEMNIA, which is prelected upon by Tullius in his oration IN
VERREM. I should have deemed, however, Mr. Waverley, that before
destining yourself to any special service in the army of the Prince,
ye might have inquired what rank the old Bradwardine held there,
and whether he would not have been peculiarly happy to have had your
services in the regiment of horse which he is now about to levy.'

Edward eluded this reproach by pleading the necessity of giving an
immediate answer to the Prince's proposal, and his uncertainty at the
moment whether his friend the Baron was with the army, or engaged upon
service elsewhere.

This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry after Miss
Bradwardine, and was informed she had come to Edinburgh with Flora
Mac-Ivor, under guard of a party of the Chieftain's men. This step was
indeed necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a very unpleasant, and even
dangerous place of residence for an unprotected young lady, on account
of its vicinity to the Highlands, and also to one or two large villages,
which, from aversion as much to the Caterans as zeal for presbytery,
had declared themselves on the side of Government, and formed irregular
bodies of partisans, who had frequent skirmishes with the mountaineers,
and sometimes attacked the houses of the Jacobite gentry in the braes,
or frontier betwixt the mountain and plain.

'I would propose to you,' continued the Baron, 'to walk as far as my
quarters in the Luckenbooths, and to admire in your passage the High
Street, whilk is, beyond a shadow of dubitation, finer than any street,
whether in London or Paris. But Rose, poor thing, is sorely discomposed
with the firing of the Castle, though I have proved to her from Blondel
and Coehorn, that it is impossible a bullet can reach these buildings;
and, besides, I have it in charge from His Royal Highness to go to the
camp, or leaguer of our army, to see that the men do CONCLAMARE VASA,
that is, truss up their bag and baggage for to-morrow's march.'

'That will be easily done by most of us,' said Mac-Ivor, laughing.

'Craving your pardon, Colonel Mac-Ivor, not quite so easily as ye seem
to opine. I grant most of your folk left the Highlands, expedited as it
were, and free from the incumbrance of baggage; but it is unspeakable
the quantity of useless sprechery which they have collected on their
march, I saw one fellow of yours (craving your pardon once more) with a
pier-glass upon his back.'

'Aye,' said Fergus, still in good humour, 'he would have told you, if
you had questioned him, A GANGING FOOT IS AYE GETTING.--But come, my
dear Baron, you know as well as I, that a hundred Uhlans, or a single
troop of Schmirschitz's Pandours, would make more havoc in a country
than the knight of the mirror and all the rest of our clans put
together.'

'And that is very true likewise,' replied the Baron; 'they are, as
the heathen author says, FEROCIORES IN ASPECTU, MITIORES IN ACTU, of
a horrid and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour than their
physiognomy or aspect might infer.--But I stand here talking to you two
youngsters when I should be in the King's Park.'

'But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return? I assure you,
Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs must, I remember
my Paris education, and understand perfectly FAIRE LA MEILLEURE CHERE.'

'And wha the deil doubts it,' quoth the Baron, laughing, 'when ye bring
only the cookery, and the gude toun must furnish the materials?--'Weel,
I have some business in the toun too: But I'll join you at three, if the
vivers can tarry so long.'

So saying, he took leave of his friends, and went to look after the
charge which had been assigned him.



CHAPTER XLII

A SOLDIER'S DINNER

James of the Needle was a man of his word, when whisky was no party
to the contract; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, who still thought
himself in Waverley's debt, since he had declined accepting compensation
at the expense of mine Host of the Candlestick's person, took the
opportunity of discharging the obligation, by mounting guard over the
hereditary tailor of Sliochd nan Ivor; and, as he expressed himself,
'targed him tightly' till the finishing of the job. To rid himself of
this restraint, Shemus's needle flew through the tartan like lightning;
and as the artist kept chanting some dreadful skirmish of Fin Macoul,
he accomplished at least three stitches to the death of every hero. The
dress was, therefore, soon ready, for the short coat fitted the wearer,
and the rest of the apparel required little adjustment.

Our hero having now fairly assumed the 'garb of old Gaul,' well
calculated its it was to give an appearance of strength to a figure,
which, though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than robust, I hope
my fair readers will excuse him if he looked at himself in the mirror
more than once, and could not help acknowledging that the reflection
seemed that of a very handsome young fellow. In fact, there was
no disguising it. His light-brown hair--for he wore no periwig,
notwithstanding the universal fashion of the time--became the bonnet
which surmounted it. His person promised firmness and agility, to which
the ample folds of the tartan added an air of dignity. His blue eye
seemed of that kind,

     Which melted in love, and which kindled in war;

and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of want of
habitual intercourse with the world, gave interest to his features,
without injuring their grace or intelligence.

'He's a pratty man--a very pratty man,' said Evan Dhu (now Ensign
Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady.

'He's vera weel,' said the Widow Flockhart, 'but no naething sae
weel-far'd as your colonel, ensign.'

'I wasna comparing them,' quoth Evan, 'nor was I speaking about his
being weel-favoured; but only that Mr. Waverley looks clean-made and
DELIVER, and like a proper lad of his quarters, that will not cry
barley in a brulzie, And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch at the broadsword and
target, I hae played wi' him mysell at Glennaquoich, and sae has Vich
Ian Vohr, often of a Sunday afternoon,'

'Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich,' said the alarmed Presbyterian; 'I'm
sure the colonel wad never do the like o' that!'

'Hout! hout! Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the ensign, 'we're young blude, ye
ken; and young saints, auld deils.'

'But will ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign Maccombich?'
demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest.

'Troth I'se ensure him, an' he'll bide us, Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the
Gael.

'And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons, Ensign
Maccombich?' again inquired the landlady.

'Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flockhart, and the deevil
tak the shortest nails.'

'And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?'

'Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart; the very first man will he be, by
Saint Phedar.'

'Merciful goodness! and if he's killed amang the red-coats!' exclaimed
the soft-hearted widow.

'Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that will
no be living to weep for him. But we maun a' live the day, and have
our dinner; and there's Vich Ian Vohr has packed his DORLACH, and Mr.
Waverley's wearied wi' majoring yonder afore the muckle pier-glass; and
that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o' Bradwardine, that shot young
Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's coming down the close wi' that droghling
coghling bailie body they ca' Macwhupple, just like the Laird o'
Kittlegab's French cook, wi' his turn-spit doggie trindling ahint him,
and I am as hungry as a gled, my bonny dow; sae bid Kate set on the
broo', and do ye put on your pinners, for ye ken Vich Ian Vohr winna
sit down till ye be at the head o' the table;--and dinna forget the pint
bottle o' brandy, my woman.'

This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds like the
sun through a mist; took the head of the table, thinking within herself,
perhaps, that she cared not how long the rebellion lasted, that brought
her into company so much above her usual associates. She was supported
by Waverley and the Baron, with the advantage of the Chieftain
VIS-A-VIS. The men of peace and of war, that is, Bailie Macwheeble and
Ensign Maccombich, after many profound conges to their superiors and
each other, took their places on each side of the Chieftain. Their fare
was excellent, time, place, and circumstances considered, and Fergus's
spirits were extravagantly high. Regardless of danger, and sanguine from
temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in imagination all his prospects
crowned with success, and was totally indifferent to the probable
alternative of a soldier's grave. The Baron apologized slightly for
bringing Macwheeble. They had been providing, he said, for the expenses
of the campaign. 'And, by my faith,' said the old man, 'as I think this
will be my last, so I just end where I began--I hae evermore found
the sinews of war, as a learned author calls the CAISSE MILITAIRE mair
difficult to come by than either its flesh, blood, or bones.'

'What! have you raised our only efficient body of cavalry, and got ye
none of the louis d'or out of the DOUTELLE, to help you?' [The Doutelle
was an armed vessel, which brought a small supply of money and arms from
France for the use of the insurgents.]

'No, Glennaquoich; cleverer fellows have been before me.'

'That's a scandal,' said the young Highlander; 'but you will share what
is left of my subsidy: it will save you an anxious thought to-night, and
will be all one to-morrow, for we shall all be provided for, one way or
other, before the sun sets.' Waverley, blushing deeply, but with great
earnestness, pressed the same request.

'I thank ye baith, my good lads,' said the Baron, 'but I will not
infringe upon your peculium. Bailie Macwheeble has provided the sum
which is necessary.'

Here the Bailie shifted and fidgeted about in his seat, and appeared
extremely uneasy. At length, after several preliminary hems, and much
tautological expression of his devotion to his honour's service, by
night or day, living or dead, he began to insinuate, 'that the Banks
had removed a' their ready cash into the Castle; that, nae doubt, Sandie
Goldie, the silversmith, would do mickle for his honour; but there was
little time to get the wadset made out; and, doubtless, if his honour
Glennaquoich, or Mr. Waverley, could accommodate'--

'Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir,' said the Baron, in a tone which
rendered Macwheeble mute, 'but proceed as we accorded before dinner, if
it be your wish to remain in my service.'

To this peremptory order the Bailie, though he felt as if condemned
to suffer a transfusion of blood from his own veins into those of the
Baron, did not presume to make any reply. After fidgeting a little while
longer, however, he addressed himself to Glennaquoich, and told him, if
his honour had mair ready siller than was sufficient for his occasions
in the field, he could put it out at use for his honour in safe hands,
and at great profit, at this time.

At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he had
recovered his breath,--'Many thanks, Bailie; but you must know it is a
general custom among us soldiers to make our landlady our banker.--Here,
Mrs. Flockhart,' said he, taking four or five broad pieces out of a
well-filled purse, and tossing the purse itself, with its remaining
contents, into her apron, 'these will serve my occasions; do you take
the rest; be my banker if I live, and my executor if I die; but take
care to give something to the Highland cailliachs [Old women, on whom
devolved the duty of lamenting for the dead, which the Irish call
KEENING.] that shall cry the coronach loudest for the last Vich Ian
Vohr.'

'It is the TESTAMENTUM MILITARE,' quoth the Baron, 'whilk, amang the
Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative.' But the soft heart of Mrs.
Flockhart was melted within her at the Chieftain's speech; she set up
a lamentable blubbering, and positively refused to touch the bequest,
which Fergus was therefore obliged to resume.

'Well, then,' said the Chief, 'if I fall, it will go to the grenadier
that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he works hard for it.'

Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for where cash
was concerned, he did not willingly remain silent. 'Perhaps he had
better carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case of mortality, or
accidents of war. It might tak the form of a MORTIS CAUSA donation in
the young leddie's favour, and wad cost but the scrape of a pen to mak
it out.'

'The young lady,' said Fergus, 'should such an event happen, will have
other matters to think of than these wretched louis d'or.'

'True--undeniable--there 's nae doubt o' that; but your honour kens that
a full sorrow'--

'Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one?--True, Bailie,
very true; and I believe there may even be some who would be consoled
by such a reflection for the loss of the whole existing generation.
But there is a sorrow which knows neither hunger nor thirst; and poor
Flora'--He paused, and the whole company sympathized in his emotion.

The Baron's thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state of
his daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran's eye. 'If I fall,
Macwheeble; you have all my papers, and know all my affairs; be just to
Rose.'

The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all; a good deal of dirt
and dress about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just feelings he
had, especially where the Baron or his young mistress were concerned. He
set up a lamentable howl. 'If that doleful day should come, while Duncan
Macwheeble had a boddle, it should be Miss Rose's. He wald scroll for
a plack the sheet, or she kenn'd what it was to want; if indeed
a' the bonnie baronie o' Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, with the
fortalice and manor-place thereof (he kept sobbing and whining
at every pause), tofts, crofts, mosses, muirs--outfield,
infield--buildings--orchards--dovecots--with the right of net and
coble in the water and loch of Veolan--teinds, parsonage and
vicarage--annexis, connexis--rights of pasturage--fuel, feal, and
divot--parts, pendicles, and pertinents whatsoever--(here he had
recourse to the end of his long cravat to wipe his eyes, which
overflowed in spite of him, at the ideas which this technical jargon
conjured up)--all as more fully described in the proper evidents and
titles thereof--and lying within the parish of Bradwardine, and the
shire of Perth--if, as aforesaid, they must a' pass from my master's
child to Inch-Grabbit, wha's a Whig and a Hanoverian, and be managed
by his doer, Jamie Howie, wha's no fit to be a birlieman, let be a
bailie'--

The beginning of this lamentation really had something affecting, but
the conclusion rendered laughter irresistible. 'Never mind, Bailie,'
said Ensign Maccombich, 'for the gude auld times of rugging and riving
(pulling and tearing) are come back again, an' Sneckus Mac-Snacbus
(meaning, probably, annexis, connexis), and a' the rest of your friends,
maun gie place to the langest claymore.'

'And that claymore shall be ours, Bailie,' said the Chieftain, who saw
that Macwheeble looked very blank at this intimation.

     We'll give them the metal our mountain affords,
     Lillibulero, bullen a la,
     And in place of broad-pieces we'll pay with broadswords,
     Lero, lero, &c.
     With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score,
     Lillibulero, &c.
     For the man that's thus paid will crave payment no more,
     Lero, Lero, &c.
     [These lines, or something like them, occur in an old magazine
     of the period.]

'But come, Bailie, be not cast down; drink your wine with a joyous
heart; the Baron shall return safe and victorious to Tully-Veolan,
and unite Killancureit's lairdship with his own, since the cowardly
half-bred swine will not turn out for the Prince like a gentleman.'

'To be sure, they lie maist ewest,' [i.e. contiguous] said the Bairie,
wiping his eyes, 'and should naturally fa' under the same factory.'

'And I,' proceeded the Chieftain, 'shall take care of myself, too; 'for
you must know, I have to complete a good work here, by bringing Mrs.
Flockhart into the bosom of the Catholic church, or at least half way,
and that is to your Episcopal meeting-house. Oh, Baron! if you heard her
fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate and Matty in the morning, you, who
understand music, would tremble at the idea of hearing her shriek in the
psalmody of Haddo's Hole.'

'Lord forgie you, colonel, how ye rin on! But I hope your honours will
tak tea before ye gang to the palace, and I maun gang and mask it for
you.'

So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their own conversation,
which, as might be supposed, turned chiefly upon the approaching events
of the campaign.



CHAPTER XLIII

THE BALL

Ensign Maccombich having gone to the Highland camp upon duty, and Bailie
Macwheeble having retired to digest his dinner and Evan Dhu's intimation
of martial law in some blind change-house, Waverley, with the Baron and
the Chieftain, proceeded to Holyrood House. The two last were in full
tide of spirits, and the Baron rallied in his way our hero upon the
handsome figure which his new dress displayed to advantage. 'If you have
any design upon the heart of a bonny Scotch lassie, I would premonish
you, when you address her, to remember and quote the words of
Virgilius:--

     Nunc insanus amor duri me Martis in armis,
     Tela inter media atque adversos detinet hostes:

whilk verses Robertson of Struan, Chief of the Clan Donnochy (unless
the claims of Lude ought to be preferred PRIMO LOCO), has thus elegantly
rendered;

     For cruel love has gartan'd low my leg,
     And clad my hurdies in a philabeg.

Although, indeed, ye wear the trews, a garment whilk I approve maist of
the twa, as mair ancient and seemly.' 'Or rather,' said Fergus, 'hear my
song:

     She wadna hae a Lowland laird,
     Nor be an English lady;
     But she's away with Duncan Graeme,
     And he's row'd her in his plaidy.'

By this time they reached the palace of Holyrood, and were announced
respectively as they entered the apartments.

It is but too well known how many gentlemen of rank, education, and
fortune, took a concern in the ill-fated and desperate undertaking of
1745. The ladies, also, of Scotland very generally espoused the cause of
the gallant and handsome young Prince, who threw himself upon the mercy
of his countrymen, rather like a hero of romance than a calculating
politician. It is not, therefore, to be wondered that Edward, who
had spent the greater part of his life in the solemn seclusion of
Waverley-Honour, should have been dazzled at the liveliness and elegance
of the scene now exhibited in the long-deserted halls of the Scottish
palace. The accompaniments, indeed, fell short of splendour, being such
as the confusion and hurry of the time admitted; still, however, the
general effect was striking, and, the rank of the company considered,
might well be called brilliant.

It was not long before the lover's eye discovered the object of his
attachment. Flora Mac-Ivor was in the act; of returning to her seat,
near the top of the room, with Rose Bradwardine by her side. Among much
elegance and beauty, they had attracted a great degree of the public
attention, being certainly two of the handsomest women present. The
Prince took much notice of both, particularly of Flora, with whom he
danced; a preference which she probably owed to her foreign education,
and command of the French and Italian languages.

When the bustle attending the conclusion of the dance permitted, Edward,
almost intuitively, followed Fergus to the place where Miss Mac-Ivor was
seated. The sensation of hope, with which he had nursed his affection
in absence of the beloved object, seemed to vanish in her presence, and,
like one striving to recover the particulars of a forgotten dream,
he would have given the world at that moment to have recollected
the grounds on which he had founded expectations which now seemed so
delusive. He accompanied Fergus with downcast eyes, tingling ears,
and the feelings of the criminal, who, while the melancholy cart moves
slowly through the crowds that have assembled to behold his execution,
receives no clear sensation either from the noise which fills his ears,
or the tumult on which he casts his wandering look.

Flora seemed a little--a very little--affected and discomposed at his
approach. 'I bring you an adopted son of Ivor,' said Fergus.

'And I receive him as a second brother,' replied Flora.

There was a slight emphasis on the word, which would have escaped
every ear but one that was feverish with apprehension. It was, however,
distinctly marked, and, combined with her whole tone and manner, plainly
intimated, 'I will never think of Mr. Waverley as a more intimate
connexion.' Edward stopped, bowed, and looked at Fergus, who bit his
lip; a movement of anger, which proved that he also had put a sinister
interpretation on the reception which his sister had given his friend.
'This, then, is an end of my day-dream!' Such was Waverley's first
thought, and it was so exquisitely painful as to banish from his cheek
every drop of blood.

'Good God!' said Rose Bradwardine, 'he is not yet recovered!'

These words, which she uttered with great emotion, were overheard by the
Chevalier himself, who stepped hastily forward, and, taking Waverley by
the hand, inquired kindly after his health, and added, that he wished to
speak with him. By a strong and sudden effort, which the circumstances
rendered indispensable, Waverley recovered himself so far as to follow
the Chevalier in silence to a recess in the apartment.

Here the Prince detained him some time, asking various questions about
the great Tory and Catholic families of England, their connexions,
their influence, and the state of their affections towards the house of
Stuart. To these queries Edward could not at any time have given more
than general answers, and it may be supposed that, in the present state
of his feelings, his responses were indistinct even to confusion. The
Chevalier smiled once or twice at the incongruity of his replies, but
continued the same style of conversation, although he found himself
obliged to occupy the principal share of it, until he perceived that
Waverley had recovered his presence of mind. It is probable that this
long audience was partly meant to further the idea which the Prince
desired should be entertained among his followers, that Waverley was a
character of political influence. But it appeared, from his concluding
expressions, that he had a different and good-natured motive, personal
to our hero, for prolonging the conference. 'I cannot resist the
temptation,' he said, 'of boasting of my own discretion as a lady's
confidant. You see, Mr. Waverley, that I know all, and I assure you I am
deeply interested in the affair. But, my good young friend, you must put
a more severe restraint upon your feelings. There are many here whose
eyes can see as clearly as mine, but the prudence of whose tongues may
not be equally trusted.'

So saying, he turned easily away, and joined a circle of officers at
a few paces' distance, leaving Waverley to meditate upon his parting
expression, which though not intelligible to him in its whole purport,
was sufficiently so in the caution which the last word recommended.
Making, therefore, an effort to show himself worthy of the interest
which his new master had expressed, by instant obedience to his
recommendation, he walked up to the spot where Flora and Miss
Bradwardine were still seated, and having made his compliments to the
latter, he succeeded, even beyond his own expectation, in entering into
conversation upon general topics.

If, my dear reader, thou hast ever happened to take post-horses at--,
or at--(one at least of which blanks, or more probably both, you will
be able to fill up from an inn near your own residence), you must have
observed, and doubtless with sympathetic pain, the reluctant agony with
which the poor jades at first apply their galled necks to the collars
of the harness. But when the irresistible arguments of the postboy have
prevailed upon them to proceed a mile or two, they will become callous
to the first sensation; and being warm at the harness, as the said
postboy may term it, proceed as if their withers were altogether
unwrung. This simile so much corresponds with the state of Waverley's
feelings in the course of this memorable evening, that I prefer it
(especially as being, I trust, wholly original) to any more splendid
illustration with which Byshe's ART OF POETRY might supply me.

Exertion, like virtue, is its own reward; and our hero had, moreover,
other stimulating motives for persevering in a display of affected
composure and indifference to Flora's obvious unkindness. Pride, which
supplies its caustic as a useful, though severe, remedy for the wounds
of affection, came rapidly to his aid. Distinguished by the favour of a
Prince; destined, he had room to hope, to play a conspicuous part in
the revolution which awaited a mighty kingdom; excelling, probably,
in mental acquirements, and equalling, at least, in personal
accomplishments, most of the noble and distinguished persons with whom
he was now ranked; young, wealthy, and high-born--could he, or ought he
to droop beneath the frown of a capricious beauty?

     O nymph, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
     My bosom is proud as thine own.

With the feeling expressed in these beautiful lines (which, however,
were not then written) [They occur in Miss Seward's fine verses,
beginning--To thy rocks, stormy Lannow, adieu.], Waverley determined
upon convincing Flora that he was not to be depressed by a rejection,
in which his vanity whispered that perhaps she did her own prospects as
much injustice as his. And, to aid this change of feeling, there lurked
the secret and unacknowledged hope, that she might learn to prize his
affection more highly when she did not conceive it to be altogether
within her own choice to attract or repulse it. There was a mystic tone
of encouragement, also, in the Chevalier's words, though he feared they
only referred to the wishes of Fergus in favour of a union between
him and his sister. But the whole circumstances of time, place, and
incident, combined at once to awaken his imagination, and to call upon
him for a manly and decisive tone of conduct, leaving to fate to dispose
of the issue. Should he appear to be the only one sad and disheartened
on the eve of battle, how greedily would the tale be commented upon by
the slander which had been already but too busy with his fame? Never,
never, he internally resolved, shall my unprovoked enemies possess such
an advantage over my reputation.

Under the influence of these mixed sensations, and cheered at times by
a smile of intelligence and approbation from the Prince as he passed the
group, Waverley exerted his powers of fancy, animation, and eloquence,
and attracted the general admiration of the company. The conversation
gradually assumed the tone best qualified for the display of his talents
and acquisitions. The gaiety of the evening was exalted in character,
rather than checked, by the approaching dangers of the morrow. All
nerves were strung for the future, and prepared to enjoy the present.
This mood of mind is highly favourable for the exercise of the powers
of imagination, for poetry, and for that eloquence which is allied to
poetry. Waverley, as we have elsewhere observed, possessed at times a
wonderful flow of rhetoric; and, on the present occasion, he touched
more than once the higher notes of feeling, and then again ran off in
a wild voluntary of fanciful mirth. He was supported and excited by
kindred spirits, who felt the same impulse of mood and time; and even
those of more cold and calculating habits were hurried along by the
torrent. Many ladies declined the dance, which still went forward, and,
under various pretences, joined the party to which the 'handsome young
Englishman' seemed to have attached himself. He was presented to
several of the first rank, and his manners, which for the present were
altogether free from the bashful restraint by which, in a moment of less
excitation, they were usually clouded, gave universal delight.

Flora Mac-Ivor appeared to be the only female present who regarded him
with a degree of coldness and reserve; yet even she could not suppress
a sort of wonder at talents which, in the course of their acquaintance,
she had never seen displayed with equal brilliancy and impressive
effect. I do not know whether she might not feel a momentary regret at
having taken so decisive a resolution upon the addresses of a lover, who
seemed fitted so well to fill a high place in the highest stations
of society. Certainly she had hitherto accounted among the incurable
deficiencies of Edward's disposition, the MAUVAISE HONTE, which, as
she had been educated in the first foreign circles, and was little
acquainted with the shyness of English manners, was, in her opinion,
too nearly related to timidity and imbecility of disposition. But if
a passing wish occurred that Waverley could have rendered himself
uniformly thus amiable and attractive, its influence was momentary; for
circumstances had arisen since they met, which rendered, in her eyes,
the resolution she had formed respecting him final and irrevocable.

With opposite feelings, Rose Bradwardine bent her whole soul to listen.
She felt a secret triumph at the public tribute paid to one, whose merit
she had learned to prize too early and too fondly. Without a thought of
jealousy, without a feeling of fear, pain, or doubt, and undisturbed by
a single selfish consideration, she resigned herself to the pleasure of
observing the general murmur of applause. When Waverley spoke, her ear
was exclusively filled with his voice; when others answered, her eye
took its turn of observation, and seemed to watch his reply. Perhaps
the delight which she experienced in the course of that evening, though
transient, and followed by much sorrow, was in its nature the most pure
and disinterested which the human mind is capable of enjoying.

'Baron,' said the Chevalier, 'I would not trust my mistress in the
company of your young friend. He is really, though perhaps somewhat
romantic, one of the most fascinating young men whom I have ever seen.'

'And by my honour, sir,' replied the Baron, 'the lad can sometimes be as
dowff as a sexagenary like myself. If your Royal Highness had seen
him dreaming and dozing about the banks of Tully-Veolan like an
hypochondriac person, or, as Burton's ANATOMIA hath it, a phrenesiac or
lethargic patient, you would wonder where he hath sae suddenly acquired
all this fine sprack festivity and jocularity.'

'Truly,' said Fergus Mac-Ivor, 'I think it can only be the inspiration
of the tartans; for, though Waverley be always a young fellow of
sense and honour, I have hitherto often found him a very absent and
inattentive companion.'

'We are the more obliged to him,' said the Prince, 'for having reserved
for this evening qualities which even such intimate friends had not
discovered.--But come, gentlemen, the night advances, and the business
of to-morrow must be early thought upon. Each take charge of his fair
partner, and honour a small refreshment with your company.'

He led the way to another suite of apartments, and assumed the seat and
canopy at the head of a long range of tables, with an air of dignity
mingled with courtesy, which well became his high birth and lofty
pretensions. An hour had hardly flown away when the musicians played the
signal for parting, so well known in Scotland.' [Which is, or was wont
to be, the old air of 'Good-night, and joy be with you a'!']

'Good-night, then, said the Chevalier, rising; 'Good-night, and joy
be with you!--Good-night, fair ladies, who have so highly honoured a
proscribed and banished Prince.--Good-night, my brave friends;--may the
happiness we have this evening experienced be an omen of our return to
these our paternal halls, speedily and in triumph, and of many and many
future meetings of mirth and pleasure in the palace of Holyrood!'

When the Baron of Bradwardine afterwards mentioned this adieu of the
Chevalier, he never failed to repeat, in a melancholy tone,

     Audiit, et voti Phoebus succedere partem
     Mente dedit; partem volueres dispersit in auras,

'which,' as he added, 'is weel rendered into English metre by my friend
Bangour:

     Ae half the prayer, wi' Phoebus grace did find,
     The t'other half he whistled down the wind.'



CHAPTER XLIV

THE MARCH

The conflicting passions and exhausted feelings of Waverley had resigned
him to late but sound repose. He was dreaming of Glennaquoich, and had
transferred to the halls of Ian nan Chaistel the festal train which so
lately graced those of Holyrood. The pibroch too was distinctly heard;
and this at least was no delusion, for the 'proud step of the chief
piper' of the 'chlain Mac-Ivor' was perambulating the court before the
door of his Chieftain's quarters, and, as Mrs. Flockhart, apparently
no friend to his minstrelsy, was pleased to observe, 'garring the very
stane-and-lime wa's dingle wi' his screeching.' Of course, it soon
became too powerful for Waverley's dream, with which it had at first
rather harmonized.

The sound of Callum's brogues in his apartment (for Mac-Ivor had again
assigned Waverley to his care) was the next note of parting. 'Winna yere
honour bang up? Vich Ian Vohr and ta Prince are awa to the lang green
glen ahint the clachan, tat they ca' the King's Park, and mony ane's on
his ain shanks the day, that will be carried on ither folk's ere night.'
[The main body of the Highland army encamped, or rather bivouacked,
in that part of the King's Park which lies towards the village of
Duddingston.]

Waverley sprang up, and, with Callum's assistance and instructions,
adjusted his tartans in proper costume. Callum told him also, 'tat his
leather DORLACH wi' the lock on her was come frae Doune, and she was awa
again in the wain wi' Vich Inn Vohr's walise,'

By this periphrasis Waverley readily apprehended his portmanteau was
intended. He thought upon the mysterious packet of the maid of the
cavern, which seemed always to escape him when within his very grasp.
But this was no time for indulgence of curiosity; and having declined
Mrs. Flockhart's compliment of a morning, i.e. a matutinal dram, being
probably the only man in the Chevalier's army by whom such a courtesy
would have been rejected, he made his adieus, and departed with Callum.

'Callum,' said he, as they proceeded down a dirty close to gain the
southern skirts of the Canongate, 'what shall I do for a horse?'

'Ta deil ane ye maun think o',' said Callum. 'Vich Ian Vohr's marching
on foot at the head o' his kin (not to say ta Prince, wha does
the like), wi' his target on his shoulder; and ye maun e'en be
neighbour-like.'

'And so I will, Callum--give me my target;--so, there we are fixed. How
does it look?'

'Like the bra' Highlander tat's painted on the board afore the mickle
change-house they ca' Luckie Middlemass's,' answered Callum; meaning,
I must observe, a high compliment, for, in his opinion, Luckie
Middlemass's sign was an exquisite specimen of art. Waverley, however,
not feeling the full force of this polite simile, asked him no further
questions.

Upon extricating themselves from the mean and dirty suburbs of the
metropolis, and emerging into the open air, Waverley felt a renewal both
of health and spirits, and turned his recollection with firmness upon
the events of the preceding evening, and with hope and resolution
towards those of the approaching day.

When he had surmounted a small craggy eminence, called St. Leonard's
Hill, the King's Park, or the hollow between the mountain of Arthur's
Seat, and the rising grounds on which the southern part of Edinburgh
is now built, lay beneath him, and displayed a singular and animating
prospect. It was occupied by the army of the Highlanders, now in the act
of preparing for their march. Waverley had already seen something of the
kind at the hunting-match which he attended with Fergus Mac-Ivor; but
this was on a scale of much greater magnitude, and incomparably deeper
interest. The rocks, which formed the background of the scene, and the
very sky itself, rang with the clang of the bagpipers, summoning
forth, each with his appropriate pibroch, his chieftain and clan. The
mountaineers, rousing themselves from their couch under the canopy of
heaven, with the hum and bustle of a confused and irregular multitude,
like bees alarmed and arming in their hives, seemed to possess all the
pliability of movement fitted to execute military manoeuvres. Their
motions appeared spontaneous and confused, but the result was order and
regularity; so that a general must have praised the conclusion, though a
martinet might have ridiculed the method by which it was attained.

The sort of complicated medley created by the hasty arrangements of the
various clans under their respective banners, for the purpose of getting
into the order of march, was in itself a gay and lively spectacle. They
had no tents to strike, having generally, and by choice, slept upon the
open field, although the autumn was now waning, and the nights began to
be frosty. For a little space, while they were getting into order, there
was exhibited a changing, fluctuating; and confused appearance of
waving tartans and floating plumes, and of banners displaying the proud
gathering word of Clanronald, GANION COHERIGA (Gainsay who dares);
LOCH-SLOY, the watchword of the Mac-Farlanes; FORTH FORTUNE, AND FILL
THE FETTERS, the motto of the Marquis of Tuilibardine; BYDAND, that of
Lord Lewis Gordon; and the appropriate signal words and emblems of many
other chieftains and clans.

At length the mixed and wavering multitude arranged themselves into a
narrow and dusky column of great length, stretching through the whole
extent of the valley. In the front of the column the standard of the
Chevalier was displayed, bearing at red cross upon a white ground,
with the motto TANDEM TRIUMPHANS. The few cavalry being chiefly Lowland
gentry, with their domestic servants and retainers, formed the advanced
guard of the army; and their standards, of which they had rather too
many in respect of their numbers, were seen waving upon the extreme
verge of the horizon. Many horsemen of this body, among whom Waverley
accidentally remarked Balmawhapple, and his lieutenant, Jinker (which
last, however, had been reduced, with several others, by the advice of
the Baron of Bradwardine, to the situation of what he called reformed
officers, or reformadoes), added to the liveliness, though by no means
to the regularity, of the scene, by galloping their horses as fast
forward as the press would permit, to join their proper station in
the van. The fascinations of the Circes of the High Street, and the
potations of strength with which they had been drenched over night, had
probably detained these heroes within the walls of Edinburgh somewhat
later than was consistent with their morning duty. Of such loiterers,
the prudent took the longer and circuitous, but more open route, to
attain their place in the march, by keeping at some distance from the
infantry, and making their way through the enclosures to the right, at
the expense of leaping over or pulling down the dry-stone fences. The
irregular appearance and vanishing of these small parties of horsemen,
as well as the confusion occasioned by those who endeavoured, though
generally without effect, to press to the front through the crowd of
Highlanders, maugre their curses, oaths, and opposition, added to the
picturesque wildness what it took from the military regularity of the
scene.

While Waverley gazed upon this remarkable spectacle, rendered yet more
impressive by the occasional discharge of cannon-shot from the Castle
at the Highland guards as they were withdrawn from its vicinity to
join their main body, Callum, with his usual freedom of interference,
reminded him that Vich Ian Vohr's folk were nearly at the head of the
column of march, which was still distant, and that 'they would gang very
fast after the cannon fired.' Thus admonished, Waverley walked briskly
forward, yet often easting a glance upon the darksome clouds of warriors
who were collected before and beneath him. A nearer view, indeed,
rather diminished the effect impressed on the mind by the more distant
appearance of the army. The leading men of each clan were well armed
with broadsword, target, and fusee, to which all added the dirk, and
most the steel pistol. But these consisted of gentlemen, that is,
relations of the chief, however distant, and who had an immediate title
to his countenance and protection. Finer and hardier men could not
have been selected out of any army in Christendom; while the free and
independent habits which each possessed, and which each was yet so well
taught to subject to the command of his chief, and the peculiar mode of
discipline adopted in Highland warfare, rendered them equally formidable
by their individual courage and high spirit, and from their rational
conviction of the necessity of acting in unison, and of giving their
national mode of attack the fullest opportunity of success.

But, in a lower rank to these, there were found individuals of an
inferior description, the common peasantry of the Highland country,
who, although they did not allow themselves to be so called, and claimed
often, with apparent truth, to be of more ancient descent than the
masters whom they served, bore, nevertheless, the livery of extreme
penury, being indifferently accoutred, and worse armed, half naked,
stinted in growth, and miserable in aspect. Each important clan had some
of those Helots attached to them;--thus, the Mac-Couls, though tracing
their descent from Comhal, the father of Finn or Fingal, were a sort
of Gibeonites, or hereditary servants to the Stewarts of Appin; the
Macbeths, descended from the unhappy monarch of that name, were subjects
to the Morays, and clan Donnochy, or Robertsons of Athole; and many
other examples might be given, were it not for the risk of hurting any
pride of clanship which may yet be left, and thereby drawing a Highland
tempest into the shop of my publisher. Now these same Helots, though
forced into the field by the arbitrary authority of the chieftains under
whom they hewed wood and drew water, were, in general, very sparingly
fed, ill dressed, and worse armed. The latter circumstance was indeed
owing chiefly to the general disarming act, which had been carried into
effect ostensibly through the whole Highlands, although most of the
chieftains contrived to elude-its influence, by retaining the weapons
of their own immediate clansmen, and delivering up those of less value,
which they collected from these inferior satellites. It followed, as a
matter of course, that, as we have already hinted, many of these poor
fellows were brought to the field in a very wretched condition.

From this it happened, that, in bodies, the van of which were admirably
well armed in their own fashion, the rear resembled actual banditti.
Here was a pole-axe, there a sword without a scabbard; here a gun
without a lock, there a scythe set straight upon a pole; and some had
only their dirks, and bludgeons or stakes pulled out of hedges. The
grim, uncombed, and wild appearance of these men, most of whom gazed
with all the admiration of ignorance upon the most ordinary production
of domestic art, created surprise in the Lowlands, but it also created
terror. So little was the condition of the Highlands known at that late
period, that the character and appearance of their population,
while thus sallying forth as military adventurers, conveyed to the
south-country Lowlanders as much surprise as if an invasion of African
Negroes or Esquimaux Indians had issued forth from the northern
mountains of their own native country. It cannot therefore be wondered
if Waverley, who had hitherto judged of the Highlanders generally from
the samples which the policy of Fergus had from time to time exhibited,
should have felt damped and astonished at the daring attempt of a body
not then exceeding four thousand men, and of whom not above half the
number, at the utmost, were armed, to change the fate, and alter the
dynasty, of the British kingdoms.

As he moved along the column, which still remained stationary, an iron
gun, the only piece of artillery possessed by the army which meditated
so important a revolution, was fired as the signal of march. The
Chevalier had expressed a wish to leave this useless piece of ordnance
behind him; but, to his surprise, the Highland chiefs interposed to
solicit that it might accompany their march, pleading the prejudices of
their followers, who, little accustomed to artillery, attached a
degree of absurd importance to this field-piece, and expected it would
contribute essentially to a victory which they could only owe to their
own muskets and broadswords. Two or three French artillerymen were
therefore appointed to the management of this military engine, which
was drawn along by a string of Highland ponies, and was, after all, only
used for the purpose of firing signals. [See Note 25.]

No sooner was its voice heard upon the present occasion, than the whole
line was in motion. A wild cry of joy from the advancing battalions rent
the air, and was then lost in the shrill clangour of the bagpipes, as
the sound of these, in their turn, was partially drowned by the heavy
tread of so many men put at once into motion. The banners glittered
and shook as they moved forward, and the horse hastened to occupy their
station as the advanced guard, and to push on reconnoitring parties
to ascertain and report the motions of the enemy. They vanished from
Waverley's eye as they wheeled round the base of Arthur's seat, under
the remarkable ridge of basaltic rocks which fronts the little lake of
Duddingston.

The infantry followed in the same direction, regulating their pace by
another body which occupied a road more to the southward. It cost Edward
some exertion of activity to attain the place which Fergus's followers
occupied in the line of march.



CHAPTER XLV

AN INCIDENT GIVES RISE TO UNAVAILING REFLECTIONS

When Waverley reached that part of the column which was filled by
the clan of Mac-Ivor, they halted, formed, and received him with a
triumphant flourish upon the bagpipes, and a loud shout of the men, most
of whom knew him personally, and were delighted to see him in the dress
of their country and of their sept. 'You shout,' said a Highlander of
a neighbouring clan to Evan Dhu, 'as if the Chieftain were just come to
your head.'

MAR E BRAN IS E BRATHAIR, If it be not Bran, it is Bran's brother,' was
the proverbial reply of Maccombich. [Bran, the well-known dog of Fingal,
is often the theme of Highland proverb as well as song.]

'Oh, then, it is the handsome Sassenach Duinhe-wassel, that is to be
married to Lady Flora?'

'That may be, or it may not be; and it is neither your matter nor mine,
Gregor.'

Fergus advanced to embrace the volunteer, and afford him a warm and
hearty welcome; but he thought it necessary to apologize for the
diminished numbers of his battalion (which did not exceed three hundred
men), by observing, he had sent a good many out upon parties.

The real fact, however, was, that the defection of Donald Bean Lean had
deprived him of at least thirty hardy fellows, whose services he had
fully reckoned upon, and that many of his occasional adherents had been
recalled by their several chiefs to the standards to which they most
properly owed their allegiance. The rival chief of the great northern
branch also of his own clan, had mustered his people, although he had
not yet declared either for the Government or for the Chevalier, and by
his intrigues had in some degree diminished the force with which
Fergus took the field. To make amends for these disappointments, it was
universally admitted that the followers of Vich Ian Vohr, in point of
appearance, equipment, arms, and dexterity in using them, equalled the
most choice troops which followed the standard of Charles Edward. Old
Ballenkeiroch acted as his major; and, with the other officers who had
known Waverley when at Glennaquoich, gave our hero a cordial reception,
as the sharer of their future dangers and expected honours.

The route pursued by the Highland army, after leaving the village of
Duddingston, was for some time the common post-road betwixt Edinburgh
and Haddington, until they crossed the Esk at Musselburgh, when, instead
of keeping the low grounds towards the sea, they turned more inland, and
occupied the brow of the eminence called Carberry hill, a place already
distinguished in Scottish history as the spot where the lovely Mary
surrendered herself to her insurgent subjects. This direction was
chosen, because the Chevalier had received notice that the army of the
Government, arriving by sea from Aberdeen, had landed at Dunbar, and
quartered the night before to the west of Haddington, with the intention
of falling down towards the sea-side, and approaching Edinburgh by the
lower coast-road. By keeping the height, which overhung that road in
many places, it was hoped the Highlanders might find an opportunity of
attacking them to advantage. The army therefore halted upon the ridge of
Carberry hill, both to refresh the soldiers, and as a central situation,
from which their march could be directed to any point that the motions
of the enemy might render most advisable. While they remained in this
position, a messenger arrived in haste to desire Mac-Ivor to come to the
Prince, adding, that their advanced post had had a skirmish with some of
the enemy's cavalry, and that the Baron of Bradwardine had sent in a few
prisoners.

Waverley walked forward out of the line to satisfy his curiosity, and
soon observed five or six of the troopers, who, covered with dust, had
galloped in to announce that the enemy were in full march westward along
the coast. Passing still a little further on, he was struck with a groan
which issued from a hovel. He approached the spot, and heard a voice, in
the provincial English of his native county, which endeavoured, though
frequently interrupted by pain, to repeat the Lord's Prayer. The voice
of distress always found a ready answer in our hero's bosom. He entered
the hovel, which seemed to be intended for what is called, in the
pastoral counties of Scotland, a smearing-house; and in its obscurity
Edward could only at first discern a sort of red bundle; for those who
had stripped the wounded man of his arms, and part of his clothes, had
left him the dragoon-cloak in which he was enveloped.

'For the love of God,' said the wounded man, as he heard Waverley's
step, 'give me a single drop of water!'

'You shall have it,' answered Waverley, at the same time raising him in
his arms, bearing him to the door of the hut, and giving him some drink
from his flask.

'I should know that voice,' said the man; but, looking on Waverley's
dress with a bewildered look,--'no, this is not the young squire!'

This was the common phrase by which Edward was distinguished on the
estate of Waverley-Honour, and the sound now thrilled to his heart with
the thousand recollections which the well-known accents of his native
country had already contributed to awaken. 'Houghton!' he said, gazing
on the ghastly features which death was fast disfiguring, 'can this be
you?'

'I never thought to hear an English voice again,' said the wounded man;
'they left me to live or die here as I could, when they found I would
say nothing about the strength of the regiment. But, oh, squire! how
could you stay from us so long, and let us be tempted by that fiend of
the pit, Ruffin?--we should have followed you through flood and fire, to
be sure.'

'Ruffin! I assure you, Houghton, you have been vilely imposed upon.'

'I often thought so,' said Houghton, 'though they showed us your very
seal; and so Timms was shot, and I was reduced to the ranks.'

'Do not exhaust your strength in speaking,' said Edward; 'I will get you
a surgeon presently.'

He saw Mac-Ivor approaching, who was now returning from head-quarters,
where he had attended a council of war, and hastened to meet him. 'Brave
news!' shouted the Chief; 'we shall be at it in less than two hours. The
Prince has put himself at the head of the advance, and as he drew his
sword, called out, "My friends, I have thrown away the scabbard." Come,
Waverley, we move instantly.'

'A moment,--a moment; this poor prisoner is dying where shall I find a
surgeon?'

'Why, where should you? We have none, you know, but two or three French
fellows, who, I believe, are little better than GARCONS APOTHICAIRES.'

'But the man will bleed to death.'

'Poor fellow!' said Fergus, in a momentary fit of compassion; then
instantly added, 'But it will be a thousand men's fate before night; so
come along.'

'I cannot; I tell you he is a son of a tenant of my uncle's.'

'Oh, if he's a follower of yours, he must be looked to;

'I'll send Callum to you. But DIAOUL!-CAEDE MILLIA MOLLIGHEART!'
continued the impatient Chieftain,--'what made an old soldier, like
Bradwardine, send dying men here to cumber us?'

Callum came with his usual alertness; and, indeed, Waverley rather
gained than lost in the opinion of the Highlanders, by his anxiety about
the wounded man. They would not have understood the general philanthropy
which rendered it almost impossible for Waverley to have passed any
person in such distress; but, as apprehending that the sufferer was one
of his following, [SCOTTICE for followers.] they unanimously allowed
that Waverley's conduct was that of a kind and considerate chieftain,
who merited the attachment of his people. In about a quarter of an
hour poor Humphry breathed his last, praying his young master, when
he returned to Waverley-Honour, to be kind to old Job Houghton and
his dame, and conjuring him not to fight with these wild petticoat-men
against old England.

When his last breath was drawn, Waverley, who had beheld with sincere
sorrow, and no slight tinge of remorse, the final agonies of mortality,
now witnessed for the first time, commanded Callum to remove the body
into the hut. This the young Highlander performed, not without examining
the pockets of the defunct, which, however, he remarked, had been
pretty well spung'd. He took the cloak, however, and proceeding with the
provident caution of a spaniel hiding a bone, concealed it among some
furze, and carefully marked the spot, observing that, if he chanced to
return that way, it would be an excellent rokelay for his auld mother
Elspat.

It was by a considerable exertion that they regained their place in the
marching column, which was now moving rapidly forward to occupy the high
grounds above the village of Tranent, between which and the sea, lay the
purposed march of the opposite army.

This melancholy interview with his late sergeant forced many unavailing
and painful reflections upon Waverley's mind. It was clear, from the
confession of the man, that Colonel Gardiner's proceedings had been
strictly warranted, and even rendered indispensable, by the steps taken
in Edward's name to induce the soldiers of his troop to mutiny. The
circumstance of the seal, he now, for the first time, recollected, and
that he had lost it in the cavern of the robber, Bean Lean. That the
artful villain had secured it, and used it as the means of carrying
on an intrigue in the regiment, for his own purposes, was sufficiently
evident, and Edward had now little doubt that in the packet placed in
his portmanteau by his daughter, he should find further light upon
his proceedings. In the meanwhile, the repeated expostulation of
Houghton,--'Ah, squire, why did you leave us?' rang like a knell in his
ears.

'Yes,' he said, 'I have indeed acted towards you with thoughtless
cruelty. I brought you from your paternal fields, and the protection of
a generous and kind landlord, and when I had subjected you to all the
rigour of military discipline, I shunned to bear my own share of the
burden, and wandered from the duties I had undertaken, leaving alike
those whom it was my business to protect, and my own reputation, to
suffer under the artifices of villany. O indolence and indecision of
mind! if not in yourselves vices, to how much exquisite misery and
mischief do you frequently prepare the way!'



CHAPTER XLVI

THE EVE OF BATTLE

Although the Highlanders marched on very fast, the sun was declining
when they arrived upon the brow of those high grounds which command an
open and extensive plain stretching northward to the sea, on which are
situated, but at a considerable distance from each other, the small
villages of Seaton and Cockenzie, and the larger one of Preston. One of
the low coast-roads to Edinburgh passed through this plain, issuing upon
it from the enclosures of Seaton-house, and at the town or village of
Preston again entering the defiles of an enclosed country. By this way
the English general had chosen to approach the metropolis, both as most
commodious for his cavalry, and being probably of opinion that, by doing
so, he would meet in front with the Highlanders advancing from Edinburgh
in the opposite direction. In this he was mistaken; for the sound
judgement of the Chevalier, or of those to whose advice he listened,
left the direct passage free, but occupied the strong ground by which it
was overlooked and commanded.

When the Highlanders reached the heights above the plain described, they
were immediately formed in army of battle along the brow of the hill.
Almost at the same instant the van of the English appeared issuing from
among the trees and enclosures of Seaton, with the purpose of occupying
the level plain between the high ground and the sea; the space which
divided the armies being only about half a mile in breadth. Waverley
could plainly see the squadrons of dragoons issue, one after another,
from the defiles, with their videttes in front, and form upon the
plain, with their front opposed to that of the Prince's army. They were
followed by a train of field-pieces, which, when they reached the flank
of the dragoons, were also brought into line, and pointed against the
heights. The march was continued by three or four regiments of infantry
marching in open column, their fixed bayonets showing like successive
hedges of steel, and their arms glancing like lightning, as, at a
signal given, they also at once wheeled up, and were placed in direct
opposition to the Highlanders. A second train of artillery, with another
regiment of horse, closed the long march, and formed on the left flank
of the infantry, the whole line facing southward.

While the English army went through these evolutions, the Highlanders
showed equal promptitude and zeal for battle. As fast as the clans came
upon the ridge which fronted their enemy, they were formed into line, so
that both armies got into complete order of battle at the same moment.
When this was accomplished, the Highlanders set up a tremendous yell,
which was re-echoed by the heights behind them. The regulars, who were
in high spirits, returned a loud shout of defiance, and fired one or
two of their cannon upon an advanced post of the Highlanders. The latter
displayed great earnestness to proceed instantly to the attack, Evan Dhu
urging to Fergus, by way of argument, that 'the SIDIER ROY was tottering
like an egg upon a staff, and that they had a' the vantage of the onset,
for even a haggis (God bless her!) could charge down hill.'

But the ground through which the mountaineers must have descended,
although not of great extent, was impracticable in its character, being
not only marshy, but intersected with walls of dry-stone, and traversed
in its whole length by a very broad and deep ditch, circumstances which
must have given the musketry of the regulars dreadful advantages, before
the mountaineers could have used their swords, on which they were taught
to rely. The authority of the commanders was therefore interposed to
curb the impetuosity of the Highlanders, and only a few marksmen were
sent down the descent to skirmish with the enemy's advanced posts, and
to reconnoitre the ground.

Here, then, was a military spectacle of no ordinary interest, or usual
occurrence. The two armies, so different in aspect and discipline,
yet each admirably trained in its own peculiar mode of war, upon whose
conflict the temporary fate at least of Scotland appeared to depend, now
faced each other like two gladiators in the arena, each meditating
upon the mode of attacking their enemy. The leading officers, and the
general's staff of each army, could be distinguished in front of their
lines, busied with spy-glasses to watch each other's motions, and
occupied in dispatching the orders and receiving the intelligence
conveyed, by the aides-de-camp and orderly men, who gave life to the
scene by galloping along in different directions as if the fate of
the day depended upon the speed of their horses. The space between the
armies was at times occupied by the partial and irregular contests of
individual sharpshooters, and a hat or bonnet was occasionally seen to
fall, as a wounded man was borne off by his comrades. These, however,
were but trifling skirmishes, for it suited the views of neither
party to advance in that direction. From the neighbouring hamlets, the
peasantry cautiously showed themselves, as if watching the issue of
the expected engagement; and at no great distance in the bay were two
square-rigged vessels, bearing the English flag, whose tops and yards
were crowded with less timid spectators.

When this awful pause had lasted for a short time, Fergus, with another
chieftain, received orders to detach their clans towards the village of
Preston, in order to threaten the right flank of Cope's army, and compel
him to a change of position. To enable him to execute these orders, the
Chief of Glennaquoich occupied the churchyard of Tranent, a commanding
situation, and a convenient place, as Evan Dhu remarked, 'for any
gentleman who might have the misfortune to be killed, and chanced to be
curious about Christian burial.' To check or dislodge this party, the
English general detached two guns escorted by a strong party of cavalry.
They approached so near, that Waverley could plainly recognize the
standard of the troop he had formerly commanded, and hear the trumpets
and kettledrums sound the signal of advance, which he had so often
obeyed. He could hear, too, the well-known word given in the
English dialect, by the equally well-distinguished voice of the
commanding-officer, for whom he had once felt so much respect. It was
at that instant, that, looking around him, he saw the wild dress and
appearance of his Highland associates, heard their whispers in an
uncouth and unknown language, looked upon his own dress, so unlike that
which he had worn from his infancy, and wished to awake from what seemed
at the moment a dream, strange, horrible, and unnatural. 'Good God!' he
muttered, 'am I then a traitor to my country, a renegade to my standard,
and a foe, as that poor dying wretch expressed himself, to my native
England?'

Ere he could digest or smother the recollection, the tall military
form of his late commander came full in view, for the purpose of
reconnoitring. 'I can hit him now,' said Callum, cautiously raising his
fusee over the wall under which he lay couched, at scarce sixty yards'
distance.

Edward felt as if he was about to see a parricide committed in his
presence; for the venerable grey hair and striking countenance of the
veteran recalled the almost paternal respect with which his officers
universally regarded him. But ere he could say 'Hold!' an aged
Highlander, who lay beside Callum Beg, stopped his arm. 'Spare your
shot,' said the seer, 'his hour is not yet come. But let him beware of
to-morrow.--I see his winding-sheet high upon his breast.'

Callum, flint to other considerations, was penetrable to superstition.
He turned pale at the words of the TAISHATR, and recovered his piece.
Colonel Gardiner, unconscious of the danger he had escaped, turned his
horse round, and rode slowly back to the front of his regiment.

By this time the regular army had assumed a new line, with one flank
inclined towards the sea, and the other resting upon the village of
Preston; and as similar difficulties occurred in attacking their new
position, Fergus and the rest of the detachment were recalled to their
former post. This alteration created the necessity of a corresponding
change in General Cope's army, which was again brought into a line
parallel with that of the Highlanders. In these manoeuvres on both sides
the daylight was nearly consumed, and both armies prepared to rest upon
their arms for the night in the lines which they respectively occupied.

'There will be nothing done to-night,' said Fergus to his friend
Waverley. 'Ere we wrap ourselves in our plaids, let us go see what the
Baron is doing in the rear of the line.'

When they approached his post, they found the good old careful officer,
after having sent out his night patrols, and posted his sentinels,
engaged in reading the Evening Service of the Episcopal Church to the
remainder of his troop. His voice was loud and sonorous, and though his
spectacles upon his nose, and the appearance of Saunders Saunderson,
in military array, performing the functions of clerk, had something
ludicrous, yet the circumstances of danger in which they stood, the
military costume of the audience, and the appearance of their horses,
saddled and picketed behind them, gave an impressive and solemn effect
to the office of devotion.

'I have confessed to-day, ere you were awake,' whispered Fergus to
Waverley; 'yet I am not so strict a Catholic as to refuse to join in
this good man's prayers.'

Edward assented, and they remained till the Baron had concluded the
service.

As he shut the book, 'Now, lads,' said he, 'have at them in the morning,
with heavy hands and light consciences.' He then kindly greeted Mac-Ivor
and Waverley, who requested to know his opinion of their situation.
'Why, you know, Tacitus saith, "IN REBUS BELLICIS MAXIME DOMINATUR
FORTUNA," which is equiponderate with our vernacular adage, "Luck can
maist in the mellee." But credit me, gentlemen, yon man is not a deacon
o' his craft. He damps the spirits of the poor lads he commands, by
keeping them on the defensive, whilk of itself implies inferiority or
fear. Now will they lie on their arms yonder, as anxious and as ill at
ease as a toad under a harrow, while our men will be quite fresh and
blithe for action in the morning. Well, goodnight.--One thing troubles
me, but if to-morrow goes well off, I will consult you about it,
Glennaquoich.'--

'I could almost apply to Mr. Bradwardine the character which Henry gives
of Fluellen,' said Waverley, as his friend and he walked towards their
BIVOUAC:

     Though it appears a little out of fashion,
     There is much care and valour in this 'Scotchman.'

'He has seen much service,' answered Fergus, 'and one is sometimes
astonished to find how much nonsense and reason are mingled in his
composition, I wonder what can be troubling his mind--probably something
about Rose.--Hark! the English are setting their watch.'

The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment of the fifes swelled up
the hill-died away--resumed its thunder--and was at length hushed. The
trumpets and kettledrums of the cavalry were next heard to perform the
beautiful and wild point of war appropriated as a signal for that piece
of nocturnal duty, and then finally sank upon the wind with a shrill and
mournful cadence.

The friends, who had now reached their post, stood and looked round them
ere they lay down to rest. The western sky twinkled with stars, but
a frost-mist, rising from the ocean, covered the eastern horizon, and
rolled in white wreaths along the plain where the adverse army lay
couched upon their arms. Their advanced posts were pushed as far as the
side of the great ditch at the bottom of the descent, and had kindled
large fires at different intervals, gleaming with obscure and hazy
lustre through the heavy fog which encircled them with a doubtful halo.

The Highlanders, 'thick as leaves in Vallombrosa,' lay stretched upon
the ridge of the hill, buried (excepting their sentinels) in the most
profound repose. 'How many of these brave fellows will sleep more
soundly before to-morrow night, Fergus!' said Waverley, with an
involuntary sigh.

'You must not think of that,' answered Fergus, whose ideas were entirely
military. 'You must only think of your sword, and by whom it was given.
All other reflections are now TOO LATE.'

With the opiate contained in this undeniable remark, Edward endeavoured
to lull the tumult of his conflicting feelings. The Chieftain and he,
combining their plaids, made a comfortable and warm couch. Callum,
sitting down at their head (for it was his duty to watch upon the
immediate person of the Chief), began a long mournful song in Gaelic, to
a low and uniform tune, which, like the sound of the wind at a distance,
soon lulled them to sleep.



CHAPTER XLVII

THE CONFLICT

When Fergus Mac-Ivor and his friend had slept for a few hours, they were
awakened, and summoned to attend the Prince. The distant village-clock
was heard to toll three as they hastened to the place where he lay.
He was already surrounded by his principal officers and the chiefs of
clans. A bundle of peas-straw, which had been lately his couch, now
served for his seat. Just as Fergus reached the circle, the consultation
had broken up. 'Courage, my brave friends!' said the Chevalier, 'and
each one put himself instantly at the head of his command; a faithful
friend [See Note 26.] has offered to guide us by a practicable, though
narrow and circuitous route, which, sweeping to our right, traverses
the broken ground and morass, and enables us to gain the firm and open
plain, upon which the enemy are lying. This difficulty surmounted,
Heaven and your good swords must do the rest.'

The proposal spread unanimous joy, and each leader hastened to get his
men into order with as little noise as possible. The army, moving by
its right from off the ground on which they had rested, soon entered the
path through the morass, conducting their march with astonishing silence
and great rapidity. The mist had not risen to the higher grounds, so
that for some time they had the advantage of starlight. But this was
lost as the stars faded before approaching day, and the head of the
marching column, continuing its descent, plunged as it were into the
heavy ocean of fog, which rolled its white waves over the whole plain,
and over the sea by which it was bounded. Some difficulties were now to
be encountered, inseparable from darkness,--a narrow, broken, and
marshy path, and the necessity of preserving union in the march. These,
however, were less inconvenient to Highlanders, from their habits of
life, than they would have been to any other troops, and they continued
a steady and swift movement.

As the clan of Ivor approached the firm ground, following the track of
those who preceded them, the challenge of a patrol was heard through the
mist, though they could not see the dragoon by whom it was made--'Who
goes there?'

'Hush!' cried Fergus, 'hush!--Let none answer, as he values his
life.--Press forward!' and they continued their march with silence and
rapidity.

The patrol fired his carabine upon the body, and the report was
instantly followed by the clang of his horse's feet as he galloped off.
'HYLAX IN LIMINE LATRAT,' said the Baron of Bradwardine, who heard the
shot; 'that loon will give the alarm.'

The clan of Fergus had now gained the firm plain, which had lately borne
a large crop of corn. But the harvest was gathered in, and the expense
was unbroken by tree, bush, or interruption of any kind. The rest of the
army were following fast, when they heard the drums of the enemy beat
the general. Surprise, however, had made no part of their plan, so they
were not disconcerted by this intimation that the foe was upon his guard
and prepared to receive them. It only hastened their dispositions for
the combat, which were very simple.

The Highland army, which now occupied the eastern end of the wide plain,
or stubble field, so often referred to, was drawn up in two lines,
extending from the morass towards the sea. The first was destined to
charge the enemy, the second to act as a reserve. The few horse,
whom the Prince headed in person, remained between the two lines. The
Adventurer had intimated a resolution to charge in person at the head of
his first line; but his purpose was deprecated by all around him, and he
was with difficulty induced to abandon it.

Both lines were now moving forward, the first prepared for instant
combat. The clans of which it was composed, formed each a sort of
separate phalanx, narrow in front, and in depth ten, twelve, or fifteen
files, according to the strength of the following. The best armed and
best born, for the words were synonymous, were placed in front of each
of these irregular subdivisions. The others in the rear shouldered
forward the front, and by their pressure added both physical impulse,
and additional ardour and confidence, to those who were first to
encounter the danger.

'Down with your plaid, Waverley,' cried Fergus, throwing off his own;
'we'll win silks for our tartans before the sun is above the sea.'

The clansmen on every side stripped their plaids, prepared their arms,
and there was an awful pause of about three minutes, during which
the men, pulling off their bonnets, raised their faces to heaven, and
uttered a short prayer; then pulled their bonnets over their brows, and
began to move forward at first slowly. Waverley felt his heart at that
moment throb as it would have burst from his bosom. It was not fear, it
was not ardour,--it was a compound of both, a new and deeply energetic
impulse, that with its first emotion chilled and astounded, then fevered
and maddened his mind, The sounds around him combined to exalt his
enthusiasm; the pipes played, and the clans rushed forward, each in
its own dark column. As they advanced they mended their pace, and the
muttering sounds of the men to each other began to swell into a wild
cry.

At this moment, the sun, which was now risen above the horizon,
dispelled the mist. The vapours rose like a curtain, and showed the
two armies in the act of closing. The line of the regulars was formed
directly fronting the attack of the Highlanders; it glittered with
the appointments of a complete army, and was flanked by cavalry and
artillery. But the sight impressed no terror on the assailants.

'Forward, sons of Ivor,' cried their Chief, 'or the Camerons will draw
the first blood!'--They rushed on with a tremendous yell.

The rest is well known. The horse, who were commanded to charge the
advancing Highlanders in the flank, received an irregular fire from
their fusees as they ran on, and, seized with a disgraceful panic,
wavered, halted, disbanded, and galloped from the field. The
artillerymen, deserted by the cavalry, fled after discharging their
pieces, and the Highlanders, who dropped their guns when fired, and drew
their broadswords, rushed with headlong fury against the infantry.

It was at this moment of confusion and terror, that Waverley remarked an
English officer, apparently of high rank, standing alone and unsupported
by a field-piece, which, after the flight of the men by whom it was
wrought, he had himself levelled and discharged against the clan of
Mac-Ivor, the nearest group of Highlanders within his aim. Struck
with his tall, martial figure, and eager to save him from inevitable
destruction, Waverley outstripped for an instant even the speediest of
the warriors, and, reaching the spot first, called to him to surrender.
The officer replied by a thrust with his sword, which Waverley received
in his target, and in turning it aside the Englishman's weapon broke.
At the same time the battle-axe of Dugald Mahony was in the act of
descending upon the officer's head. Waverley intercepted and prevented
the blow, and the officer, perceiving further resistance unavailing,
and struck with Edward's generous anxiety for his safety, resigned the
fragment of his sword, and was committed by Waverley to Dugald, with
strict charge to use him well, and not to pillage his person, promising
him, at the same time, full indemnification for the spoil.

On Edward's right, the battle for a few minutes raged fierce and thick.
The English infantry, trained in the wars in Flanders, stood their
ground with great courage. But their extended files were pierced and
broken in many places by the close masses of the clans; and in the
personal struggle which ensued, the nature of the Highlanders' weapons,
and their extraordinary fierceness and activity, gave them a decided
superiority over those who had been accustomed to trust much to their
array and discipline, and felt that the one was broken and the other
useless. Waverley, as he cast his eyes towards this scene of smoke and
slaughter, observed Colonel Gardiner, deserted by his own soldiers in
spite of all his attempts to rally them, yet spurring his horse through
the field to take the command of a small body of infantry, who, with
their backs arranged against the wall of his own park (for his house
was close by the field of battle), continued a desperate and unavailing
resistance. Waverley could perceive that he had already received many
wounds, his clothes and saddle being marked with blood. To save this
good and brave man, became the instant object of his most anxious
exertions. But he could only witness his fall. Ere Edward could make
his way among the Highlanders, who, furious and eager for spoil, now
thronged upon each other, he saw his former commander brought from his
horse by the blow of a scythe, and beheld him receive, while on the
ground, more wounds than would have let out twenty lives. When Waverley
came up, however, perception had not entirely fled. The dying warrior
seemed to recognize Edward, for he fixed his eye upon him with an
upbraiding, yet sorrowful look, and appeared to struggle for utterance.
But he felt that death was dealing closely with him, and resigning his
purpose, and folding his hands as if in devotion, he gave up his soul
to his Creator. The look with which he regarded Waverley in his dying
moments did not strike him so deeply at that crisis of hurry and
confusion, as when it recurred to his imagination at the distance of
some time. [See Note 27.]

Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field. The battle was
fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and military stores
of the regular army remained in possession of the victors. Never was a
victory more complete. Scarce any escaped from the battle, excepting the
cavalry, who had left it at the very onset, and even these were broken
into different parties and scattered all over the country. So far as our
tale is concerned, we have only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who,
mounted on a horse as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursued
the flight of the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle,
when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned round, and,
cleaving his skull with their broadswords, satisfied the world that
the unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his life thus
giving proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress. His death
was lamented by few. Most of those who knew him agreed in the pithy
observation of Ensign Maccombich, that there 'was mair TINT (lost) at
Sheriff-Muir.' His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only
to exculpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing to the
catastrophe. 'He had tauld the laird a thousand times,' he said, 'that
it was a burning shame to put a martingale upon the puir thing, when he
would needs ride her wi' a curb of half a yard lang; and that he could
na but bring himsell (not to say her) to some mischief, by flinging her
down, or otherwise; whereas, if he had had a wee bit rinnin ring on the
snaffle, she wad ha' rein'd as cannily as a cadger's pownie.'

Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple. [See Note 28.]



CHAPTER XLVIII

AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT

When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the Baron
of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and having disposed
those under his command in their proper stations, sought the Chieftain
of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward Waverley. He found the former
busied in determining disputes among his clansmen about points of
precedence and deeds of valour, besides sundry high and doubtful
questions concerning plunder. The most important of the last respected
the property of a gold watch, which had once belonged to some
unfortunate English officer. The party against whom judgement was
awarded consoled himself by observing, 'She (i.e. the watch, which he
took for a living animal) died the very night Vich Ian Vohr gave her to
Murdock;' the machine having, in fact, stopped for want of winding up.

It was just when this important question was decided, that the Baron of
Bradwardine, with a careful and yet important expression of countenance,
joined the two young men. He descended from his reeking charger, the
care of which he recommended to one of his grooms. 'I seldom ban, sir,'
said he to the man; 'but if you play any of your hound's-foot tricks,
and leave puir Berwick before he's sorted, to rin after spuilzie, deil
be wi' me if I do not; give your craig a thraw. He then stroked with
great complacency the animal which had borne him through the fatigues of
the day, and having taken a tender leave of him,--'Weel, my good young
friends, a glorious and decisive victory,' said he; 'but these loons of
troopers fled ower soon. I should have liked to have shown you the
true points of the PRAELIUM EQUESTRE, or equestrian combat, whilk their
cowardice has postponed, and which I hold to be the pride and terror
of warfare. Weel, I have fought once more in this old quarrel, though I
admit I could not be so far BEN as you lads, being that it was my point
of duty to keep together our handful of horse. And no cavalier ought
in any wise to begrudge honour that befalls his companions, even though
they are ordered upon thrice his danger, whilk, another time, by the
blessing of God, may be his own case.--But, Glennaquoich, and you, Mr.
Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a matter of
mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour of the house of
Bradwardine.--I crave your pardon, Ensign Maccombich, and yours,
Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshendrach, and yours, sir.'

The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remembering the
death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage defiance. The
Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had already bent his brow,
when Glennaquoich dragged his major from the spot, and remonstrated
with him, in the authoritative tone of a chieftain, on the madness of
reviving a quarrel in such a moment.

'The ground is cumbered with carcases,' said the old mountaineer,
turning sullenly away; 'ONE MORE would hardly have been kenn'd upon
it; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich Ian Vohr, that one should be
Bradwardine's or mine.'

The chief soothed while he hurried him away; and then returned to the
Baron. 'It is Ballenkeiroch,' he said, in an under and confidential
voice, 'father of the young man who fell eight years since in the
unlucky affair at the Mains.'

'Ah!' said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness of
his features, 'I can take mickle frae a man to whom I have unhappily
rendered sie a displeasure as that. Ye were right to apprize me,
Glennaquoich; he may look as black as midnight at Martinmas ere Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him wrang. Ah! I have nae male
lineage, and I should bear with one I have made childless, though
you are aware the blood-wit was made up to your ain satisfaction by
assythment, and that I have since expedited letters of slains.--Weel, as
I have said, I have no male issue, and yet it is needful that I maintain
the honour of my house; and it is on that score I prayed ye for your
peculiar and private attention.'

The two young men awaited to hear him in anxious curiosity.

'I doubt na, lads,' he proceeded, 'but your education has been sae seen
to, that ye understand the true nature of the feudal tenures?'

Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, 'Intimately,
Baron,' and touched Waverley, as a signal to express no ignorance.

'And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of the Barony of
Bradwardine is of a nature alike honourable and peculiar, being blanch
(which Craig opines ought to be Latinated BLANCUM, or rather FRANCUM, a
free holding) PRO SERVITIO DETRAHENDI, SEU EXUENDI, CALIGAS REGIS POST
BATTALIAM.' Here Fergus turned his falcon eye upon Edward, with an
almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrow, to which his shoulders
corresponded in the same degree of elevation. 'Now, twa points of
dubitation occur to me upon this topic. First, whether this service,
or feudal homage, be at any event due to the person of the Prince,
the words being, PER EXPRESSUM, CALIGAS REGIS, the boots of the king
himself; and I pray your opinion anent that particular before we proceed
further.'

'Why, he is Prince Regent,' answered Mac-Ivor, with laudable composure
of countenance; 'and in the court of France all the honours are rendered
to the person of the Regent which are due to that of the King. Besides,
were I to pull off either of their boots, I would render that service to
the young Chevalier ten times more willingly than to his father.'

'Aye, but I talk not of personal predilections. However, your authority
is of great weight as to the usages of the court of France: and
doubtless the Prince, as ALTER EGO, may have a right to claim the
HOMAGIUM of the great tenants of the crown, since all faithful subjects
are commanded, in the commission of regency, to respect him as the
king's own person. Far, therefore, be it from me to diminish the lustre
of his authority, by withholding this act of homage, so peculiarly
calculated to give it splendour; for I question if the Emperor of
Germany hath his boots taken off by a free baron of the empire. But
here lieth the second difficulty--The Prince wears no boots, but simply
brogues and trews.'

This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus's gravity.

'Why,' said he, 'you know, Baron, the proverb tells us, "It's ill taking
the breeks off a Highlandman,"--and the boots are here in the same
predicament.'

'The word CALIGAE, however,' continued the Baron, 'though I admit, that,
by family tradition, and even in our ancient evidents, it is explained
LIE BOOTS, means, in its primitive sense, rather sandals; and Caius
Caesar, the nephew and successor of Caius Tiberius, received the agnomen
of Caigula, A CALIGULIS, SIVE CALIGIS LEVIORIBUS, QUIBUS ADOLESCENTIOR
USUS FUERAT IN EXERCITU GERMANICI PATRIS SUI. And the CALIGAE were also
proper to the monastic bodies; for we read in an ancient Glossarium,
upon the rule of St. Benedict, in the Abbey of St. Amand, that CALIGAE
were tied with latchets.'

'That will apply to the brogues,' said Fergus.

'It will so, my dear Glennaquoich;--and the words are express:
CALIGAE DICTAE SUNT QUIA LIGANTUR; NAM SOCCI NON LIGANTUR, SED TANTUM
INTROMITTUNTUR; that is, CALIGAE are denominated from the ligatures
wherewith they are bound; whereas SOCCI, which may be analogous to our
mules, whilk the English denominate slippers, are only slipped upon
the feet, The words of the charter are also alternative,--EXUERE, SEU
DETRAHERE; that is, to UNDO, as in the case of sandals or brogues; and
to PULL OF, as we say vernacularly, concerning boots. Yet I would we had
more light; but I fear there is little chance of finding hereabout any
erudite author DE RE VESTIARIA.'

'I should doubt it very much,' said the Chieftain, looking around on
the straggling Highlanders, who were returning loaded with spoils of the
slain, 'though the RES VESTIARIA itself seems to be in some request at
present.'

This remark coming within the Baron's idea of jocularity, he honoured it
with a smile, but immediately resumed what to him appeared very serious
business. 'Bailie Macwheeble indeed holds an opinion, that this honorary
service is due, from its very nature, SI PETATUR TANTUM; only if his
Royal Highness shall require of the great tenant of the crown to perform
that personal duty; and indeed he pointed out the case in Dirleton's
DOUBTS AND QUERIES, Grippit VERSUS Spicer, anent the eviction of an
estate OB NON SOLUTUM CANONEM, that is, for non-payment of a feu-duty of
three peppercorns a year, whilk were taxt to be worth seven-eighths of a
penny Scots, in whilk the defender was assoilzied. But I deem it safest,
wi' your good favour, to place myself in the way of rendering the Prince
this service, and to proffer performance thereof; and I shall cause
the Bailie to attend with a schedule of a protest, whilk he has here
prepared (taking out a paper), intimating, that if it shall be his Royal
Highness's pleasure to accept of other assistance at pulling off his
CALIGAE (whether the same shall be rendered boots or brogues) save that
of the said Baron of Bradwardine, who is in presence ready and willing
to perform the same, it shall in no wise impinge upon or prejudice the
right of the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine to perform the said service
in future; nor shall it give any esquire, valet of the chamber, squire,
or page, whose assistance it may please his Royal Highness to employ,
any right, title, or ground, for evicting from the said Cosmo Comyne
Bradwardine the estate and barony of Bradwardine, and others held as
aforesaid, by the due and faithful performance thereof.'

Fergus highly applauded this arrangement; and the Baron took a friendly
leave of them, with a smile of contented importance upon his visage.

'Long live our dear friend the Baron,' exclaimed the Chief, as soon as
he was out of hearing, 'for the most absurd original that exists north
of the Tweed! I wish to heaven I had recommended him to attend the
circle this evening with a boot-ketch under his arm. I think he might
have adopted the suggestion, if it had been made with suitable gravity.'

'And how can you take pleasure in making a man of his worth so
ridiculous?'

'Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as ridiculous as he. Why, do
you not see that the man's whole mind is wrapped up in this ceremony? He
has heard and thought of it since infancy, as the most august privilege
and ceremony in the world; and I doubt not but the expected pleasure of
performing it was a principal motive with him for taking up arms. Depend
upon it, had I endeavoured to divert him from exposing himself, he would
have treated me as an ignorant conceited coxcomb, or perhaps might have
taken a fancy to cut my throat; a pleasure which he once proposed to
himself upon some point of etiquette, not half so important, in his
eyes, as this matter of boots or brogues, or whatever the CALIGAE shall
finally be pronounced by the learned. But I must go to head-quarters to
prepare the Prince for this extraordinary scene. My information will be
well taken, for it will give him a hearty laugh at present, and put him
on his guard against laughing, when it might be very MAL-A-PROPOS. So,
AU REVOIR, my dear Waverley.'



CHAPTER XLIX

THE ENGLISH PRISONER

The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed from the Chieftain,
was to go in quest of the officer whose life he had saved. He was
guarded, along with his companions in misfortune, who were very
numerous, in a gentleman's house near the field of battle.

On entering the room where they stood crowded together, Waverley easily
recognized the object of his visit, not only by the peculiar dignity
of his appearance, but by the appendage of Dugald Mahony, with his
battle-axe, who had stuck to him from the moment of his captivity, as
if he had been skewered to his side. This close attendance was, perhaps,
for the purpose of securing his promised reward from Edward, but it also
operated to save the English gentleman from being plundered in the scene
of general confusion; for Dugald sagaciously argued, that the amount of
the salvage which he might be allowed, would be regulated by the
state of the prisoner, when he should deliver him over to Waverley, He
hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more words than he usually
employed, that he had 'keepit ta SIDIER ROY haill, and that he wasna a
plack the waur since the fery moment when his honour forbad her to gie
him a bit clamhewit wi' her Lochaber-axe.'

Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, and, approaching
the English officer, expressed his anxiety to do anything which
might contribute to his convenience under his present unpleasant
circumstances.

'I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir,' answered the Englishman, 'as
to complain of the fortune of war. I am only grieved to see those scenes
acted in our own island, which I have often witnessed elsewhere with
comparative indifference.'

'Another such day as this,' said Waverley, 'and I trust the cause of
your regrets will be removed, and all will again return to peace and
order.'

The officer smiled and shook his head. 'I must not forget my situation
so far as to attempt a formal confutation of that opinion; but,
notwithstanding your success, and the valour which achieved it, you have
undertaken a task to which your strength appears wholly inadequate.'

At this moment Fergus pushed into the press.

'Come, Edward, come along; the Prince has gone to Pinkie-house for the
night; and we must follow, or lose the whole ceremony of the CALIGAE.
Your friend, the Baron, has been guilty of a great piece of cruelty; he
has insisted upon dragging Bailie Macwheeble out to the field of battle.
Now you must know the Bailie's greatest horror is an armed Highlander,
or a loaded gun; and there he stands, listening to the Baron's
instructions concerning the protest; ducking his head like a sea-gull
at the report of every gun and pistol that our idle boys are firing
upon the fields; and undergoing, by way of penance, at every symptom
of flinching, a severe rebuke from his patron, who would not admit the
discharge of a whole battery of cannon, within point-blank distance, as
an apology for neglecting a discourse, in which the honour of his family
is interested.

'But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture so far?' said Edward.

'Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, in hopes of making
some of our wills; and the peremptory commands of the Baron dragged him
forward to Preston after the battle was over. He complains of one or two
of our ragamuffins having put him in peril of his life, by presenting
their pieces at him; but as they limited his ransom to an English penny,
I don't think we need trouble the provost-marshal upon that subject. So,
come along, Waverley.'

'Waverley!' said the English officer, with great emotion; 'the nephew of
Sir Everard Waverley, of --shire?'

'The same, sir,' replied our hero, somewhat surprised at the tone in
which he was addressed.

'I am at once happy and grieved,' said the prisoner, 'to have met with
you.'

'I am ignorant, sir,' answered Waverley, 'how I have deserved so much
interest.'

'Did your uncle never mention a friend called Talbot?'

'I have heard him talk with great regard of such a person,' replied
Edward; 'a colonel, I believe, in the army, and the husband of Lady
Emily Blandeville; but I thought Colonel Talbot had been abroad.'

'I am just returned,' answered the officer; 'and being in Scotland,
thought it my duty to act where my services promised to be useful. Yes,
Mr. Waverley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the husband of the lady you have
named; and I am proud to acknowledge, that I owe alike my professional
rank and my domestic happiness to your generous and noble-minded
relative. Good God! that I should find his nephew in such a dress, and
engaged in such a cause!'

'Sir,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the dress and cause are those of men of
birth and honour.'

'My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion,' said Colonel
Talbot; 'otherwise it were no difficult matter to show, that neither
courage nor pride of lineage can gild a bad cause. But, with Mr.
Waverley's permission, and yours, sir, if yours also must be asked, I
would willingly speak a few words with him on affairs connected with his
own family.'

'Mr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions. You will follow me, I
suppose, to Pinkie,' said Fergus, turning to Edward, 'when you have
finished your discourse with this new acquaintance?' So saying, the
Chief of Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather more than his usual
air of haughty assumption, and left the apartment.

The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel Talbot the freedom
of adjourning to a large garden belonging to his place of confinement.
They walked a few paces in silence, Colonel Talbot apparently studying
how to open what he had to say; at length he addressed Edward.

'Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life; and yet I would to God
that I had lost it, ere I had found you wearing the uniform and cockade
of these men.'

'I forgive your reproach, Colonel Talbot; it is well meant, and your
education and prejudices render it natural. But there is nothing
extraordinary in finding a man, whose honour has been publicly and
unjustly assailed, in the situation which promised most fair to afford
him satisfaction on his calumniators.'

'I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the
reports which they have circulated,' said Colonel Talbot, 'by following
the very line of conduct ascribed to you. Are you aware, Mr. Waverley,
of the infinite distress, and even danger, which your present conduct
has occasioned to your nearest relatives?'

'Danger!'

'Yes, sir, danger. When I left England, your uncle and father had been
obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to which they were
only admitted by the exertion of the most powerful interest. I came down
to Scotland, with the sole purpose of rescuing you from the gulf
into which you have precipitated yourself; nor can I estimate the
consequences to your family, of your having openly joined the rebellion,
since the very suspicion of your intention was so perilous to them. Most
deeply do I regret that I did not meet you before this last and fatal
error.'

'I am really ignorant,' said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, 'why
Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my account.'

'Mr. Waverley,' answered Talbot, 'I am dull at apprehending irony; and
therefore I shall answer your words according to their plain meaning.
I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater than those which a son
owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty of a son; and as I know
there is no manner in which I can requite his kindness so well as by
serving you, I will serve you, if possible, whether you will permit me
or no. The personal obligation which you have this day laid me under
(although in common estimation as great as one human being can bestow
on another) adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf; nor can that zeal be
abated by any coolness with which you may please to receive it.'

'Your intentions may be kind, sir,' said Waverley, drily; 'but your
language is harsh, or at least peremptory.'

'On my return to England,' continued Colonel Talbot, 'after long
absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody of a
king's messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought upon him by
your conduct. He is my oldest friend--how often shall I repeat it?--my
best benefactor; he sacrificed his own views of happiness to mine--he
never uttered a word, he never harboured a thought, that benevolence
itself might not have thought or spoken. I found this man in
confinement, rendered harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural
dignity of feeling, and--forgive me, Mr. Waverley--by the cause through
which this calamity had come upon him. I cannot disguise from you my
feelings upon this occasion; they were most painfully unfavourable
to you. Having, by my family interest, which you probably know is not
inconsiderable, succeeded in obtaining Sir Everard's release, I set
out for Scotland. I saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is
sufficient to render this insurrection for ever execrable. In the course
of conversation with him, I found, that, from late circumstances, from
a re-examination of the persons engaged in the mutiny, and from his
original good opinion of your character, he was much softened towards
you; and I doubted not, that if I could be so fortunate as to discover
you, all might yet be well. But this unnatural rebellion has ruined
all. I have, for the first time in a long and active military life, seen
Britons disgrace themselves by a panic flight, and that before a foe
without either arms or discipline: and now I find the heir of my dearest
friend--the son, I may say, of his affections--sharing a triumph, for
which he ought the first to have blushed. Why should I lament Gardiner?
his lot was happy, compared to mine!'

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot's manner, such a mixture
of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir Everard's
imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling, that Edward stood
mortified, abashed, and distressed in presence of the prisoner, who
owed to him his life not many hours before. He was not sorry when Fergus
interrupted their conference a second time.

'His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley's attendance.' Colonel Talbot
threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which did not escape the quick
eye of the Highland Chief. 'His immediate attendance,' he repeated, with
considerable emphasis. Waverley turned again towards the Colonel.

'We shall meet again,' he said; 'in the meanwhile, every possible
accommodation'--

'I desire none,' said the Colonel; 'let me fare like the meanest of
those brave men, who, on this day of calamity, have preferred wounds and
captivity to flight; I would, almost exchange places with one of those
who have fallen, to know that my words have made a suitable impression
on your mind.'

'Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured,' said Fergus to the Highland
officer, who commanded the guard over the prisoners; 'it is the Prince's
particular command; he is a prisoner of the utmost importance.'

'But let him want no accommodation suitable to his rank,' said Waverley.

'Consistent always with secure custody,' reiterated Fergus. The officer
signified his acquiescence in both commands, and Edward followed Fergus
to the garden-gate, where Callum Beg, with three saddle-horses, awaited
them. Turning his head, he saw Colonel Talbot reconducted to his place
of confinement by a file of Highlanders; he lingered on the threshold
of the door, and made a signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if
enforcing the language he had held towards him.

'Horses,' said Fergus, as he mounted, 'are now as plenty as
blackberries; every man may have them for the catching. Come, let Callum
adjust your stirrups, and let us to Pinkie-house [Charles Edward took
up his quarters after the battle at Pinkie-house, adjoining to
Musselburgh.] as fast as these CI-DEVANT dragoon-horses choose to carry
us.'



CHAPTER L

RATHER UNIMPORTANT

'I was turned back,' said Fergus to Edward, as they galloped from
Preston to Pinkie-house, 'by a message from the Prince. But, I suppose,
you know the value of this most noble Colonel Talbot as a prisoner. He
is held one of the best officers among the red-coats; a special friend
and favourite of the Elector himself, and of that dreadful hero, the
Duke of Cumberland, who has been summoned from his triumphs at Fontenoy,
to come over and devour us poor Highlanders alive. Has he been telling
you how the bells of St. James's ring? Not "turn again, Whittington,"
like those of Bow, in the days of yore?'

'Fergus!' said Waverley, with a reproachful look.

'Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you,' answered the Chief of
Mac-Ivor, 'you are blown about with every wind of doctrine. Here have we
gained a victory, unparalleled in history--and your behaviour is praised
by every living mortal to the skies--and the Prince is eager to thank
you in person--and all our beauties of the White Rose are pulling caps
for you,--and you, the PREUX CHEVALIER of the day, are stooping on your
horse's neck like a butter-woman riding to market, and looking as black
as a funeral!'

'I am sorry for poor Colonel Gardiner's death: he was once very kind to
me.'

'Why, then, be sorry for five minutes, and then be glad again; his
chance to-day may be ours to-morrow. And what does it signify?--the next
best thing to victory is honourable death; but it is a PIS-ALLER, and
one would rather a foe had it than one's self.'

'But Colonel Talbot has informed me that my father and uncle are both
imprisoned by government on my account.'

'We'll put in bail, my boy; old Andrew Ferrara [See Note 29.] shall
lodge his security; and I should like to see him put to justify it in
Westminster Hall!'

'Nay, they are already at liberty, upon bail of a more civic
disposition.'

'Then why is thy noble spirit cast down, Edward? Dost think that the
Elector's Ministers are such doves as to set their enemies at liberty
at this critical moment, if they could or durst confine and punish them?
Assure thyself that either they have no charge against your relations on
which they can continue their imprisonment, or else they are afraid of
our friends, the jolly cavaliers of old England. At any rate, you need
not be apprehensive upon their account; and we will find some means of
conveying to them assurances of your safety.'

Edward was silenced, but not satisfied, with these reasons. He had now
been more than once shocked at the small degree of sympathy which Fergus
exhibited for the feelings even of those whom he loved, if they did not
correspond with his own mood at the time, and more especially if they
thwarted him while earnest in a favourite pursuit. Fergus sometimes
indeed observed that he had offended Waverley, but, always intent upon
some favourite plan or project of his own, he was never sufficiently
aware of the extent or duration of his displeasure, so that the
reiteration of these petty offences somewhat cooled the volunteer's
extreme attachment to his officer.

The Chevalier received Waverley with his usual favour, and paid him many
compliments on his distinguished bravery. He then took him apart, made
many inquiries concerning Colonel Talbot, and when he had received all
the information which Edward was able to give concerning him and his
connexions, he proceeded,--'I cannot but think, Mr. Waverley, that
since this gentleman is so particularly connected with our worthy and
excellent friend, Sir Everard Waverley, and since his lady is of the
house of Blandeville, whose devotion to the true and loyal principles of
the Church of England is so generally known, the Colonel's own private
sentiments cannot be unfavourable to us, whatever mask he may have
assumed to accommodate himself to the times.'

'If I am to judge from the language he this day held to me, I am under
the necessity of differing widely from your Royal Highness.'

'Well, it is worth making a trial at least. I therefore entrust you with
the charge of Colonel Talbot, with power to act concerning him as you
think most advisable;--and I hope you will find means of ascertaining
what are his real dispositions towards our Royal Father's restoration.'

'I am convinced,' said Waverley, bowing, 'that if Colonel Talbot chooses
to grant his parole, it may be securely depended upon; but if he refuses
it, I trust your Royal Highness will devolve on some other person than
the nephew of his friend, the task of laying him under the necessary
restraint.'

'I will trust him with no person but you,' said the Prince, smiling, but
peremptorily repeating his mandate: 'it is of importance to my service
that there should appear to be a good intelligence between you, even
if you are unable to gain his confidence in earnest. You will therefore
receive him into your quarters, and in case he declines giving his
parole, you must apply for a proper guard. I beg you will go about this
directly. We return to Edinburgh to-morrow.'

Being thus remanded to the vicinity of Preston, Waverley lost the Baron
of Bradwardine's solemn act of homage. So little, however, was he at
this time in love with vanity, that he had quite forgotten the ceremony
in which Fergus had laboured to engage his curiosity. But next day a
formal GAZETTE was circulated, containing a detailed account of the
battle of Gladsmuir, as the Highlanders chose to denominate their
victory. It concluded with an account of the Court afterwards held
by the Chevalier at Pinkie-house, which contained this among other
high-flown descriptive paragraphs:

'Since that fatal treaty which annihilates Scotland as an independent
nation, it has not been our happiness to see her princes receive, and
her nobles discharge, those acts of feudal homage, which, founded upon
the splendid actions of Scottish valour, recall the memory of her early
history, with the manly and chivalrous simplicity of the ties which
united to the Crown the homage of the warriors by whom it was repeatedly
upheld and defended. But on the evening of the 20th, our memories were
refreshed with one of those ceremonies which belong to the ancient
days of Scotland's glory. After the circle was formed, Cosmo Comyne
Bradwardine, of that ilk, colonel in the service, &c. &c. &c., came
before the Prince, attended by Mr. D. Macwheeble, the Bailie of his
ancient barony of Bradwardine (who, we understand, has been-lately named
a commissary), and, under form of instrument, claimed permission to
perform, to the person of his Royal Highness, as representing his
father, the service used and wont, for which, under a charter of Robert
Bruce (of which the original was produced and inspected by the Masters
of his Royal Highness's Chancery, for the time being), the claimant held
the barony of Bradwardine, and lands of Tully-Veolan. His claim being
admitted and registered, his Royal Highness having placed his foot
upon a cushion, the Baron of Bradwardine, kneeling upon his right knee,
proceeded to undo the latchet of the brogue, or low-heeled Highland
shoe, which our gallant young hero wears in compliment to his brave
followers. When this was performed, his Royal Highness declared the
ceremony completed; and embracing the gallant veteran, protested that
nothing but compliance with an ordinance of Robert Bruce could have
induced him to receive even the symbolical performance of a menial
office from hands which had fought so bravely to put the crown upon the
head of his father. The Baron of Bradwardine then took instruments in
the hands of Mr. Commissary Macwheeble, bearing, that all points and
circumstances of the act of homage had been RITE ET SOLENNITER ACTA ET
PERACTA; and a corresponding entry was made in the protocol of the Lord
High Chamberlain, and in the record of Chancery. We understand that it
is in contemplation of his Royal Highness, when his Majesty's pleasure
can be known, to raise Colonel Bradwardine to the peerage, by the title
of Viscount Bradwardine, of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and that, in
the meanwhile, his Royal Highness, in his father's name and authority,
has been pleased to grant him an honourable augmentation to his paternal
coat of arms, being a budget or boot-jack, disposed saltier-wise with a
naked broadsword, to be borne in the dexter cantle of the shield; and,
as an additional motto, on a scroll beneath, the words, "DRAW AND DRAW
OFF".'

'Were it not for the recollection of Fergus's raillery,' thought
Waverley to himself, when he had perused this long and grave document,
'how very tolerable would all this sound, and how little should I have
thought of connecting it with any ludicrous idea! Well, after all,
everything has its fair, as well as its seamy side; and truly I do not
see why the Baron's boot-jack may not stand as fair in heraldry as
the water-Buckets, waggons, cart-wheels, plough-socks, shuttles,
candlesticks, and other ordinaries, conveying ideas of anything
save chivalry, which appear in the arms of some of our most ancient
gentry.'--This, however, is an episode in respect to the principal
story.

When Waverley returned to Preston, and rejoined Colonel Talbot, he
found him recovered from the strong and obvious emotions with which a
concurrence of unpleasing events had affected him. He had regained his
natural manner, which was that of an English gentleman and soldier,
manly, open, and generous, but not unsusceptible of prejudice against
those of a different country, or who opposed him in political tenets.
When Waverley acquainted Colonel Talbot with the Chevalier's purpose
to commit him to his charge, 'I did not think to have owed so much
obligation to that young gentleman,' he said, 'as is implied in this
destination. I can at least cheerfully join in the prayer of the honest
Presbyterian clergyman, that, as he has come among us seeking an earthly
crown, his labours may be speedily rewarded with a heavenly one. [The
clergyman's name was Mac-Vicar. Protected by the cannon of the Castle,
he preached every Sunday in the West Kirk, while the Highlanders were in
possession of Edinburgh; and it was in presence of some of the Jacobites
that he prayed for Prince Charles Edward in the terms quoted in the
text.] I shall willingly give my parole not to attempt an escape without
your knowledge, since, in fact, it was to meet you that I came to
Scotland; and I am glad it has happened even under this predicament. But
I suppose we shall be 'but a short time together. Your Chevalier (that
is a name we may both give to him), with his plaids and blue-caps, will,
I presume, be continuing his crusade southward?'

'Not as I hear; I believe the army makes some stay, in Edinburgh, to
collect reinforcements.'

'And to besiege the Castle?' said Talbot, smiling sarcastically. 'Well,
unless my old commander, General Preston, turn false metal, or the
Castle sink into the North Loch, events which I deem equally probable,
I think we shall have some time to make up our acquaintance. I have a
guess that this gallant Chevalier has a design that I should be your
proselyte; and, as I wish you to be mine, there cannot be a more fair
proposal than to afford us fair conference together. But as I spoke
to-day under the influence of feelings I rarely give way to, I hope
you will excuse my entering again upon controversy till we are somewhat
better acquainted.'



CHAPTER LI

INTRIGUES OF LOVE AND POLITICS

It is not necessary to record in these pages the triumphant entrance of
the Chevalier into Edinburgh after the decisive affair of Preston. One
circumstance, however, may be noticed, because it illustrates the
high spirit of Flora Mac-Ivor. The Highlanders, by whom the Prince was
surrounded, in the licence and extravagance of this joyful moment,
fired their pieces repeatedly, and one of these having been accidentally
loaded with ball, the bullet grazed the young lady's temple as she waved
her handkerchief from a balcony. [See Note 30.] Fergus, who beheld the
accident, was at her side in an instant; and, on seeing that the wound
was trifling, he drew his broadsword, with the purpose of rushing down
upon the man by whose carelessness she had incurred so much danger,
when, holding him by the plaid, 'Do not harm the poor fellow,' she
cried; 'for Heaven's sake, do not harm him! but thank God with me that
the accident happened to Flora Mac-Ivor; for had it befallen a Whig,
they would have pretended that the shot was fired on purpose.'

Waverley escaped the alarm which this accident would have occasioned
to him, as he was unavoidably delayed by the necessity of accompanying
Colonel Talbot to Edinburgh.

They performed the journey together on horseback, and for some time, as
if to sound each other's feelings and sentiments, they conversed upon
general and ordinary topics.

When Waverley again entered upon the subject which he had most at heart,
the situation, namely, of his father and his uncle, Colonel Talbot
seemed now rather desirous to alleviate than to aggravate his anxiety.
This appeared particularly to be the case when he heard Waverley's
history, which he did not scruple to confide to him.

'And so,' said the Colonel, 'there has been no malice prepense, as
lawyers, I think, term it, in this rash step of yours; and you have been
trepanned into the service of this Italian knight-errant by a few civil
speeches from him, and one or two of his Highland recruiting sergeants?
It is sadly foolish, to be sure, but not nearly so bad as I was led
to expect. However, you cannot desert, even from the Pretender, at the
present moment,--that seems impossible. But I have little doubt that,
in the dissensions incident to this heterogeneous mass of wild and
desperate men, some opportunity may arise, by availing yourself of
which, you may extricate yourself honourably from your rash engagement
before the bubble burst. If this can be managed, I would have you go to
a place of safety in Flanders, which I shall point out. And I think I
can secure your pardon from Government after a few months' residence
abroad.'

'I cannot; permit you, Colonel Talbot,' answered Waverley, 'to speak of
any plan which turns on my deserting an enterprise in which I may have
engaged hastily, but certainly voluntarily, and with the purpose of
abiding the issue.'

'Well,' said Colonel Talbot, smiling, 'leave me my thoughts and hopes
at least at liberty, if not my speech. But have you never examined your
mysterious packet?'

'It is in my baggage,' replied Edward; 'we shall find it in Edinburgh.'

In Edinburgh they soon arrived. Waverley's quarters had been assigned to
him, by the Prince's express orders, in a handsome lodging, where there
was accommodation, for Colonel Talbot. His first business was to
examine his portmanteau, and, after a very short search, out tumbled the
expected packet. Waverley opened it eagerly. Under a blank cover, simply
addressed to E. Waverley, Esq., he found a number of open letters. The
uppermost were two from Colonel Gardiner, addressed to himself. The
earliest in date was a kind and gentle remonstrance for neglect of the
writer's advice respecting the disposal of his time during his leave
of absence, the renewal of which, he reminded Captain Waverley, would
speedily expire. 'Indeed,' the letter proceeded, 'had it been otherwise,
the news from abroad, and my instructions from the War-office, must have
compelled me to recall it, as there is great danger, since the disaster
in Flanders, both of foreign invasion and insurrection among the
disaffected at home. I therefore entreat you will repair, as soon as
possible, to the head-quarters of the regiment; and I am concerned to
add, that this is still the more necessary, as there is some discontent
in your troop, and I postpone inquiry into particulars until I can have
the advantage of your assistance.'

The second letter, dated eight days later, was in such a style as might
have been expected from the Colonel's receiving no answer to the first.
It reminded Waverley of his duty as a man of honour, an officer, and a
Briton; took notice of the increasing dissatisfaction of his men, and
that some of them had been heard to hint that their Captain encouraged
and approved of their mutinous behaviour; and, finally, the writer
expressed the utmost regret and surprise that he had not obeyed his
commands by repairing to head-quarters, reminded him that his leave
of absence had been recalled, and conjured him, in a style in which
paternal remonstrance was mingled with military authority, to redeem
his error by immediately joining his regiment. 'That I may be certain,'
concluded the letter, 'that this actually reaches you, I dispatch it by
Corporal Timms, of your troop, with orders to deliver it into your own
hand.'

Upon reading these letters, Waverley, with great bitterness of feeling,
was compelled to make the AMENDE HONORABLE to the memory of the brave
and excellent writer; for surely, as Colonel Gardiner must have had
every reason to conclude they had come safely to hand, less could not
follow, on their being neglected, than that third and final summons,
which Waverley actually received at Glennaquoich, though too late
to obey it. And his being superseded, in consequence of his apparent
neglect of this last command, was so far from being a harsh or severe
proceeding, that it was plainly inevitable. The next letter he unfolded
was from the Major of the regiment, acquainting him that a report, to
the disadvantage of his reputation, was public in the country, stating,
that one Mr. Falconer of Ballihopple, or some such name, had proposed,
in his presence, a treasonable toast, which he permitted to pass in
silence, although it was so gross an affront to the royal family, that
a gentleman in company, not remarkable for his zeal for government, had
nevertheless taken the matter up; and that, supposing the account true,
Captain Waverley had thus suffered another, comparatively unconcerned,
to resent an affront directed against him personally as an officer, and
to go out with the person by whom it was offered. The Major concluded,
that no one of Captain Waverley's brother officers could believe this
scandalous story, but it was necessarily their joint opinion that his
own honour, equally with that of the regiment, depended upon its being
instantly contradicted by his authority, &c. &c. &c.

'What do you think of all this?' said Colonel Talbot, to whom Waverley
handed the letters after he had perused them.

'Think! it renders thought impossible. It is enough to drive me mad.'

'Be calm, my young friend; let us see what are these dirty scrawls that
follow.'

The first was addressed, 'For Master W. Ruffin These,'--'Dear sur, sum
of our yong gulpins will not bite, thof I tuold them you shoed me the
squoire's own seel. But Timms will deliver you the lettrs as desired,
and tell ould Addem he gave them to squoir's hond, as to be sure yours
is the same, and shall be ready for signal, and hoy for Hoy Church and
Sachefrel, as fadur sings at harvest-whome. Yours, deer Sur, H.H.

'Poscriff. Do' e tell squoire we longs to heer from him, and has
dootings about his not writing himself, and Lieftenant Bottler is
smoky.'

'This Ruffin, I suppose, then, is your Donald of the Cavern, who has
intercepted your letters, and carried on a correspondence with the poor
devil Houghton, as if under your authority?

'It seems too true. But who can Addem be?'

'Possibly Adam, for poor Gardiner, a sort of pun on his name.'

The other letters were to the same purpose, and they soon received yet
more complete light upon Donald Bean's machinations.

John Hedges, one of Waverley's servants, who had remained with the
regiment, and had been taken at Preston, now made his appearance. He had
sought out his master, with the purpose of again entering his service.
From this fellow they learned, that, some time after Waverley had
gone from the head-quarters of the regiment, a pedlar, called Ruthven,
Ruffin, or Rivane, known among the soldiers by the name of Wily Will,
had made frequent visits to the town of Dundee. He appeared to possess
plenty of money, sold his commodities very cheap, seemed always willing
to treat his friends at the ale-house, and easily ingratiated himself
with many of Waverley's troop, particularly Sergeant Houghton, and
one Timms, also a non-commissioned officer. To these he unfolded, in
Waverley's name, a plan for leaving the regiment, and joining him in the
Highlands, where report said the clans had already taken arms in great
numbers. The men, who had been educated as Jacobites, so far as they had
any opinion at all, and who knew their landlord, Sir Everard, had always
been supposed to hold such tenets, easily fell into the snare.
That Waverley was at a distance in the Highlands, was received as a
sufficient excuse for transmitting his letters through the medium of the
pedlar; and the sight of his well-known seal seemed to authenticate the
negotiations in his name, where writing might have been dangerous. The
cabal, however, began to take air, from the premature mutinous language
of those concerned. Wily Will justified his appellative; for, after
suspicion arose, he was seen no more. When the Gazette appeared, in
which Waverley was superseded, great part of his troop broke out into
actual mutiny, but were surrounded and disarmed by the rest of the
regiment. In consequence of the sentence of a court-martial, Houghton
and Timms were condemned to be shot, but afterwards permitted to cast
lots for life. Houghton, the survivor, showed much penitence, being
convinced from the rebukes and explanations of Colonel Gardiner, that he
had really engaged in a very heinous crime. It is remarkable, that, as
soon as the poor fellow was satisfied of this, he became also convinced
that the instigator had acted without authority from Edward, saying,
'If it was dishonourable and against Old England, the squire could
know naught about it; he never did, or thought to do, anything
dishonourable,--no more didn't Sir Everard, nor none of them afore him,
and in that belief he would live and die that Ruffin had done it all of
his own head.'

The strength of conviction with which he expressed himself upon this
subject, as well as his assurances that the letters intended for
Waverley had been delivered to Ruthven, made that revolution in Colonel
Gardiner's opinion which he expressed to Talbot.

The reader has long since understood that Donald Bean Lean played the
part of tempter on this occasion. His motives were shortly these. Of an
active and intriguing spirit, he had been long employed as a subaltern
agent and spy by those in the confidence of the Chevalier, to an extent
beyond what was suspected even by Fergus Mac-Ivor, whom, though obliged
to him for protection, he regarded with fear and dislike. To success in
this political department, he naturally looked for raising himself by
some bold stroke above his present hazardous and precarious state of
rapine. He was particularly employed in learning the strength of the
regiments in Scotland, the character of the officers, &c., and had long
had his eye upon Waverley's troop, as open to temptation. Donald even
believed that Waverley himself was at bottom in the Stuart interest,
which seemed confirmed by his long visit to the Jacobite Baron
of Bradwardine. When, therefore, he came to his cave with one of
Glennaquoich's attendants, the robber, who could never appreciate his
real motive, which was mere curiosity, was so sanguine as to hope that
his own talents were to be employed in some intrigue of consequence,
under the auspices of this wealthy young Englishman. Nor was he
undeceived by Waverley's neglecting all hints and openings for an
explanation. His conduct passed for prudent reserve, and somewhat
piqued Donald Bean, who, supposing himself left out of a secret where
confidence promised to be advantageous, determined to have his share
in the drama, whether a regular part were assigned him or not. For this
purpose, during Waverley's sleep, he possessed, himself of his seal, as
a token to be used to any of the troopers whom he might discover to be
possessed of the captain's confidence. His first journey to Dundee, the
town where the regiment was quartered, undeceived him in his original
supposition, but opened to him a new field of action. He knew there
would be no service so well rewarded by the friends of the Chevalier, as
seducing a part of the regular army to his standard. For this purpose,
he opened the machinations with which the reader is already acquainted,
and which form a clue to all the intricacies and obscurities of the
narrative previous to Waverley's leaving Glennaquoich.

By Colonel Talbot's advice, Waverley declined detaining in his service
the lad whose evidence had thrown additional light on these intrigues.
He represented to him that it would be doing the man an injury to engage
him in a desperate undertaking, and that, whatever should happen, his
evidence would go some length, at least, in explaining the circumstances
under which Waverley himself had embarked in it. Waverley therefore
wrote a short statement of what had happened, to his uncle and his
father, cautioning them, however, in the present circumstances, not to
attempt to answer his letter. Talbot then gave the young man a letter
to the commander of one of the English vessels of war cruising in the
frith, requesting him to put the bearer ashore at Berwick, with a pass
to proceed to --shire. He was then furnished with money to make an
expeditious journey and directed to get on board the ship by means of
bribing a fishing-boat, which, as they afterwards learned, he easily
effected.

Tired of the attendance of Callum Beg, who, he thought, had some
disposition to act as a spy on his motions, Waverley hired as a servant
a simple Edinburgh swain, who had mounted the white cockade in a fit
of spleen and jealousy, because Jenny Jop had danced a whole night with
Corporal Bullock of the Fusileers.



CHAPTER LII

INTRIGUES OF SOCIETY AND LOVE

Colonel Talbot became more kindly in his demeanour towards Waverley
after the confidence he had reposed in him; and as they were necessarily
much together, the character of the Colonel rose in Waverley's
estimation. There seemed at first something harsh in his strong
expressions of dislike and censure, although no one was in the general
case more open to conviction. The habit of authority had also given his
manners some peremptory hardness, notwithstanding the polish which they
had received from his intimate acquaintance with the higher circles. As
a specimen of the military character, he differed from all whom Waverley
had as yet seen. The soldiership of the Baron of Bradwardine was marked
by pedantry; that of Major Melville by a sort of martinet attention to
the minutiae and technicalities of discipline, rather suitable to one
who was to manoeuvre a battalion, than to him who was to command an
army; the military spirit of Fergus was so much warped and blended with
his plans and political views, that it was less that of a soldier than
of a petty sovereign. But Colonel Talbot was in every point the English
soldier. His whole soul was devoted to the service of his king and
country, without feeling any pride in knowing the theory of his art with
the Baron, or its practical minutiae with the Major, or in applying his
science to his own particular plans of ambition, like the Chieftain
of Glennaquoich. Added to this, he was a man of extended knowledge and
cultivated taste, although strongly tinged, as we have already observed,
with those prejudices which are peculiarly English.

The character of Colonel Talbot dawned upon Edward by degrees; for the
delay of the Highlanders in the fruitless siege of Edinburgh Castle
occupied several weeks, during which Waverley had little to do,
excepting to seek such amusement as society afforded. He would willingly
have persuaded his new friend to become acquainted with some of his
former intimates. But the Colonel, after one or two visits, shook his
head, and declined further experiment. Indeed he went further, and
characterized the Baron as the most intolerable formal pedant he had
ever had the misfortune to meet with, and the Chief of Glennaquoich as
a Frenchified Scotchman, possessing all the cunning and plausibility
of the nation where he was educated, with the proud, vindictive, and
turbulent humour of that of his birth. 'If the devil,' he said, 'had
sought out an agent expressly for the purpose of embroiling this
miserable country, I do not think he could find a better than such
a fellow as this, whose temper seems equally active, supple, and
mischievous, and who is followed, and implicitly obeyed, by a gang of
such cut-throats as those whom you are pleased to admire so much.'

The ladies of the party did not escape his censure. He allowed that
Flora Mac-Ivor was a fine woman, and Rose Bradwardine a pretty girl.
But he alleged that the former destroyed the effect of her beauty by an
affectation of the grand airs which she had probably seen practised at
the mock court of St. Germains. As for Rose Bradwardine, he said it
was impossible for any mortal to admire such a little uninformed thing,
whose small portion of education was as ill adapted to her sex or youth,
as if she had appeared with one of her father's old campaign-coats upon
her person for her sole garment. Now much of this was mere spleen and
prejudice in the excellent Colonel, with whom the white cockade on the
breast, the white rose in the hair, and the Mac at the beginning of a
name, would have made a devil out of an angel; and indeed he himself
jocularly allowed, that he could not have endured Venus herself, if she
had been announced in a drawing-room by the name of Miss Mac-Jupiter.

Waverley, it may easily be believed, looked upon these young ladies with
very different eyes. During the period of the siege, he paid them almost
daily visits, although he observed with regret that his suit made as
little progress in the affections of the former as the arms of the
Chevalier in subduing the fortress. She maintained with rigour the rule
she had laid down of treating him with indifference, without either
affecting to avoid him, or to shun intercourse with him. Every word,
every look, was strictly regulated to accord with her system, and
neither the dejection of Waverley, nor the anger which Fergus scarcely
suppressed, could extend Flora's attention to Edward beyond that
which the most ordinary politeness demanded. On the other hand, Rose
Bradwardine gradually rose in Waverley's opinion. He had several
opportunities of remarking, that, as her extreme timidity wore off, her
manners received a higher character; that the agitating circumstances
of the stormy time seemed to call forth a certain dignity of feeling and
expression, which he had not formerly observed; and that she omitted
no opportunity within her reach to extend her knowledge and refine her
taste.

Flora Mac-Ivor called Rose her pupil, and was attentive to assist her in
her studies, and to fashion both her taste and understanding. It might
have been remarked by a very close observer, that in the presence of
Waverley she was much more desirous to exhibit her friend's excellences
than her own. But I must request of the reader to suppose, that this
kind and disinterested purpose was concealed by the most cautious
delicacy, studiously shunning the most distant approach to affectation.
So that it was as unlike the usual exhibition of one pretty woman
affecting to PRONER another, as the friendship of David and Jonathan
might be to the intimacy of two Bond-street loungers.

The fact is, that, though the effect was felt, the cause could hardly be
observed. Each of the ladies, like two excellent actresses, were perfect
in their parts, and performed them to the delight of the audience; and
such being the case, it was almost impossible to discover that the
elder constantly ceded to her friend that which was most suitable to her
talents.

But to Waverley, Rose Bradwardine possessed an attraction which few men
can resist, from the marked interest which she took in everything that
effected him. She was too young and too inexperienced to estimate the
full force of the constant attention which she paid to him. Her father
was too abstractedly immersed in learned and military discussions
to observe her partiality, and Flora Mac-Ivor did not alarm her by
remonstrance, because she saw in this line of conduct the most probable
chance of her friend securing at length a return of affection.

The truth is, that, in her first conversation after their meeting,
Rose had discovered the state of her mind to that acute and intelligent
friend, although she was not herself aware of it. From that time,
Flora was not only determined upon the final rejection of Waverley's
addresses, but became anxious that they should, if possible, be
transferred to her friend. Nor was she less interested in this plan,
though her brother had from time to time talked, as between jest and
earnest, of paying his suit to Miss Bradwardine. She knew that Fergus
had the true continental latitude of opinion respecting the institution
of marriage, and would not have given his hand to an angel, unless for
the purpose of strengthening his alliances, and increasing his influence
and wealth. The Baron's whim of transferring his estate to the distant
heir-male instead of his own daughter, was therefore likely to be an
insurmountable obstacle to his entertaining any serious thoughts of Rose
Bradwardine. Indeed, Fergus's brain was a perpetual workshop of scheme
and intrigue of every possible kind and description; while, like many a
mechanic of more ingenuity than steadiness, he would often unexpectedly
and without any apparent motive, abandon one plan, and go earnestly
to work upon another, which was either fresh from the forge of his
imagination, or had at some former period been flung aside half
finished. It was therefore often difficult to guess what line of conduct
he might finally adopt upon any given occasion.

Although Flora was sincerely attached to her brother, whose high
energies might indeed have commanded her admiration even without the
ties which bound them together, she was by no means blind to his faults,
which she considered as dangerous to the hopes of any woman who should
found her ideas of a happy marriage in the peaceful enjoyment of
domestic society, and the exchange of mutual and engrossing affection.
The real disposition of Waverley, on the other hand, notwithstanding
his dreams of tented fields and military honour, seemed exclusively
domestic. He asked and received no share in the busy scenes which were
constantly going on around him, and was rather annoyed than interested
by the discussion of contending claims, rights, and interests, which
often passed in his presence. All this pointed him out as the person
formed to make happy a spirit like that of Rose, which corresponded with
his own.

She remarked this point in Waverley's character one day while she sat
with Miss Bradwardine. 'His genius and elegant taste,' answered Rose,
'cannot be interested in such trifling discussions. What is it to him,
for example, whether the Chief of the Macindallaghers, who has brought
out only fifty men, should be a colonel or a captain? and how could
Mr. Waverley be supposed to interest himself in the violent altercation
between your brother and young Corrinaschian, whether the post of honour
is due to the eldest cadet of a clan or the youngest?' 'My dear Rose,
if he were the hero you suppose him, he would interest himself in these
matters, not indeed as important in themselves, but for the purpose
of mediating between the ardent spirits who actually do make them the
subject of discord. You saw when Corrinaschian raised his voice in great
passion, and laid his hand upon his sword, Waverley lifted his head as
if he had just awaked from a dream, and asked, with great composure,
what the matter was.'

'Well, and did not the laughter they fell into at his absence of mind,
serve better to break off the dispute than anything he could have said
to them?'

'True, my dear,' answered Flora; 'but not quite so creditably for
Waverley as if he had brought them to their senses by force of reason.'

'Would you have him peacemaker general between all the gunpowder
Highlanders in the army? I beg your pardon, Flora--your brother, you
know, is out of the question; he has more sense than half of them. But
can you think the fierce, hot, furious spirits, of whose brawls we see
much, and hear more, and who terrify me out of my life every day in the
world, are at all to be compared to Waverley?'

'I do not compare him with those uneducated men, my dear Rose. I only
lament, that, with his talents and genius, he does not assume that place
in society for which they eminently fit him, and that he does not lend
their full impulse to the noble cause in which he has enlisted. Are
there not Lochiel, and P--, and M--, and G--, all men of the highest
education, as well as the first talents?--why will he not stoop like
them to be alive and useful?--I often believe his zeal is frozen by that
proud cold-blooded Englishman, whom he now lives with so much.'

'Colonel Talbot?--he is a very disagreeable person, to be sure. He looks
as if he thought no Scottish woman worth the trouble of handing her a
cup of tea. But Waverley is so gentle, so well informed'--

'Yes,' said Flora, smiling; 'he can admire the moon, and quote a stanza
from Tasso.'

'Besides, you know how he fought,' added Miss Bradwardine.

'For mere fighting,' answered Flora, 'I believe all men (that is, who
deserve the name) are pretty much alike; there is generally more courage
required to run away. They have, besides, when confronted with each
other, a certain instinct for strife, as we see in other male animals,
such as dogs, bulls, and so forth. But high and perilous enterprise is
not Waverley's forte. He would never have been his celebrated ancestor
Sir Nigel, but only Sir Nigel's eulogist and poet. I will tell you where
he will be at home, my dear, and in his place,--in the quiet circle
of domestic happiness, lettered indolence, and elegant enjoyments, of
Waverley-Honour. And he will refit the old library in the most exquisite
Gothic taste, and garnish its shelves, with the rarest and most valuable
volumes; and he will draw plans and landscapes, and write verses, and
rear temples, and dig grottoes;--and he will stand in a clear summer
night in the colonnade before the hall, and gaze on the deer as they
stray in the moonlight, or lie shadowed by the boughs of the huge old
fantastic oaks;--and he will repeat verses to his beautiful wife, who
will hang upon his arm;--and he will be a happy man.'

'And she will be a happy woman,' thought poor Rose. But she only sighed,
and dropped the conversation.



CHAPTER LIII

FERGUS A SUITOR

Waverly had, indeed, as he looked closer into the state of the
Chevalier's Court, less reason to be satisfied with it. It contained, as
they say an acorn includes all the ramifications of the future oak, as
many seeds of TRACASSERIE and intrigue, as might have done honour to the
Court of a large empire. Every person of consequence had some separate
object, which he pursued with a fury that Waverley considered as
altogether disproportioned to its importance. Almost all had their
reasons for discontent, although the most legitimate was that of the
worthy old Baron, who was only distressed on account of the common
cause.

'We shall hardly,' said he one morning to Waverley, when they had been
viewing the castle,--'we shall hardly gain the obsidional crown, which
you wot well was made of the roots or grain which takes root within
the place besieged, or it may be of the herb woodbind, PARETARIA, or
pellitory; we shall not, I say, gain it by this same blockade or
leaguer of Edinburgh Castle.' For this opinion, he gave most learned and
satisfactory reasons, that the reader may not care to hear repeated.

Having escaped from the old gentleman, Waverley went to Fergus's
lodgings by appointment, to await his return from Holyrood House. 'I
am to have a particular audience to-morrow,' said Fergus to Waverley,
overnight, 'and you must meet me to wish me joy of the success which I
securely anticipate.'

The morrow came, and in the Chief's apartment he found Ensign Maccombich
waiting to make report of his turn of duty in a sort of ditch which they
had dug across the Castle-hill, and called a trench. In a short time
the Chief's voice was heard on the stair in a tone of impatient
fury:--'Callum,--why, Callum Beg,--Diaoul!' He entered the room with all
the marks of a man agitated by a towering passion; and there were few
upon whose features rage produced a more violent effect. The veins of
his forehead swelled when he was in such agitation; his nostril became
dilated; his cheek and eye inflamed; and his look that of a demoniac.
These appearances of half-suppressed rage were the more frightful,
because they were obviously caused by a strong effort to temper with
discretion an almost ungovernable paroxysm of passion, and resulted from
an internal conflict of the most dreadful kind, which agitated his whole
frame of mortality.

As he entered the apartment, he unbuckled his broadsword, and throwing
it down with such violence that the weapon rolled to the other end of
the room, 'I know not what,' he exclaimed, 'withholds me from taking
a solemn oath that I will never more draw it in his cause. Load my
pistols, Callum, and bring them hither instantly;--instantly!' Callum,
whom nothing ever startled, dismayed, or disconcerted, obeyed very
coolly. Evan Dhu, upon whose brow the suspicion that his Chief had been
insulted, called up a corresponding storm, swelled in sullen silence,
awaiting to learn where or upon whom vengeance was to descend.

'So, Waverley you are there,' said the Chief, after a moment's
recollection;--'Yes, I remember I asked you to share my triumph, and
you have come to witness my--disappointment we shall call it.' Evan now
presented the written report he had in his hand, which Fergus threw from
him with great passion. 'I wish to God,' he said, 'the old den would
tumble down upon the heads of the fools who attack, and the knaves who
defend it! I see, Waverley, you think I am mad--leave us, Evan, but be
within call.'

'The Colonel's in an unco kippage,' said Mrs. Flockhart to Evan, as he
descended; 'I wish he may be weel,--the very veins on his brent brow are
swelled like whipcord: wad he no tak something?'

'He usually lets blood for these fits,' answered the Highland ancient
with great composure.

When this officer left the room, the Chieftain gradually reassumed some
degree of composure.--'I know, Waverley,' he said, 'that Colonel Talbot
has persuaded you to curse ten times a day your engagement with us; nay,
never deny it, for I am at this moment tempted to curse my own. Would
you believe it, I made this very morning two suits to the Prince, and he
has rejected them both: what do you think of it?'

'What can I think,' answered Waverley, 'till I know what your requests
were?'

'Why, what signifies what they were, man? I tell you it was I that made
them,--I, to whom he owes more than to any three who have joined the
standard; for I negotiated the whole business, and brought in all the
Perthshire men when not one would have stirred. I am not likely, I
think, to ask anything very unreasonable, and if I did they might have
stretched a point.--Well, but you shall know all, now that I can draw
my breath again with some freedom.--You remember my earl's patent; it
is dated some years back, for services then rendered; and certainly
my merit has not been diminished, to say the least, by my subsequent
behaviour. Now, sir, I value this bauble of a coronet as little as you
can, or any philosopher on earth; for I hold that the chief of such
a clan as the Sliochd nan Ivor is superior in rank to any earl in
Scotland. But I had a particular reason for assuming this cursed title
at this time. You must know, that I learned accidentally that the Prince
has been pressing that old foolish Baron of Bradwardine to disinherit
his male heir, or nineteenth or twentieth cousin, who has taken a
command in the Elector of Hanover's militia, and to settle his estate
upon your pretty little friend Rose; and this, as being the command
of his king and overlord, who may alter the destination of a fief at
pleasure, the old gentleman seems well reconciled to.'

'And what becomes of the homage?'

'Curse the homage!--I believe Rose is to pull off the queen's slipper
on her coronation-day, or some such trash. Well sir, as Rose Bradwardine
would always have made a suitable match for me, but for this idiotical
predilection of her father for the heir-male, it occurred to me there
now remained no obstacle, unless that the Baron might expect his
daughter's husband to take the name of Bradwardine (which you know would
be impossible in my case), and that this might be evaded by my assuming
the title to which I had so good a right, and which, of course, would
supersede that difficulty. If she was to be also Viscountess Bradwardine
in her own right, after her father's demise, so much the better; I could
have no objection.'

'But, Fergus,' said Waverley, 'I had no idea that you had any affection
for Miss Bradwardine, and you are always sneering at her father.'

'I have as much affection for Miss Bradwardine, my good friend, as I
think it necessary to have for the future mistress of my family, and the
mother of my children. She is a very pretty, intelligent girl, and is
certainly of one of the very first Lowland families; and, with a little
of Flora's instructions and forming, will make a very good figure. As to
her father, he is an original, it is true, and an absurd one enough; but
he has given such severe lessons to Sir Hew Halbert, that dear defunct
the Laird of Balmawhapple, and others, that nobody dare laugh at him,
so his absurdity goes for nothing. I tell you there could have been
no earthly objection--none. I had settled the thing entirely in my own
mind.'

'But had you asked the Baron's consent,' said Waverley, 'Or Rose's?'

'To what purpose? To have spoke to the Baron before I had assumed my
title would have only provoked a premature and irritating discussion on
the subject of the change of name, when, as Earl of Glennaquoich, I
had only to propose to him to carry his d-d bear and bootjack PARTY
PER PALE, or in a scutcheon of pretence, or in a separate shield
perhaps--any way that would not blemish my own coat of arms. And as to
Rose, I don't see what objection she could have made, if her father was
satisfied.'

'Perhaps the same that your sister makes to me, you being satisfied.'

Fergus gave a broad stare at the comparison which this supposition
implied, but cautiously suppressed the answer which rose to his tongue.
'Oh, we should easily have arranged all that.--so, sir, I craved a
private interview, and this morning was assigned; and I asked you to
meet me here, thinking, like a fool, that I should want your countenance
as bride's-man. Well--I state my pretensions--they are not denied;
the promises so repeatedly made, and the patent granted--they are
acknowledged. But I propose, as a natural consequence, to assume the
rank which the patent bestowed--I have the old story of the jealousy of
C--and M-- trumped up against me--I resist this pretext, and offer to
procure their written acquiescence, in virtue of the date of my patent
as prior to their silly claims--I assure you I would have had such a
consent from them, if it had been at the point of the sword. And then,
out comes the real truth; and he dares to tell me, to my face, that my
patent must be suppressed for the present, for fear of disgusting
that rascally coward and FAINEANT--(naming the rival chief of his own
clan)--who has no better title to be a chieftain than I to be Emperor
of China; and who is pleased to shelter his dastardly reluctance to come
out, agreeable to his promise twenty times pledged, under a pretended
jealousy of the Prince's partiality to me. And, to leave this miserable
driveller without a pretence for his cowardice, the Prince asks if as
a personal favour of me, forsooth, not to press my just and reasonable
request at this moment. After this, put your faith in princes!'

'And did your audience end here?'

'End? Oh, no! I was determined to leave him no pretence for his
ingratitude, and I therefore stated, with all the composure I could
muster,--for I promise you I trembled with passion,--the particular
reasons I had for wishing that his Royal Highness would impose upon me
any other mode of exhibiting my duty and devotion, as my views in life
made, what at any other time would have been a mere trifle, at this
crisis a severe sacrifice; and then I explained to him my full plan.'

'And what did the Prince answer?'

'Answer? why--it is well it is written, Curse not the king; no, not in
thy thought!--why, he answered, that truly he was glad I had made him my
confidant, to prevent more grievous disappointment, for he could assure
me, upon the word of a prince, that Miss Bradwardine's affections were
engaged, and he was under a particular promise to favour them. "So, my
dear Fergus," said he, with his most gracious cast of smile, "as the
marriage is utterly out of question, there need be no hurry, you know,
about the earldom." And so he glided off, and left me PLANTE LA.'

'And what did you do?'

'I'll tell you what I could have done at that moment--sold myself to the
devil or the Elector, whichever offered the dearest revenge. However,
I am now cool. I know he intends to marry her to some of his rascally
Frenchmen, or his Irish officers: but I will watch them close; and let
the man that would supplant me look well to himself.--BISOGNA COPRIRSI,
SIGNOR.'

After some further conversation, unnecessary to be detailed, Waverley
took leave of the Chieftain, whose fury had now subsided into a deep and
strong desire of vengeance, and returned home, scarce able to analyse
the mixture of feelings which the narrative had awakened in his own
bosom.



CHAPTER LIV

'TO ONE THING CONSTANT NEVER'

'I am the very child of caprice,' said Waverley to himself, as he bolted
the door of his apartment, and paced it with hasty steps.--'What is it
to me that Fergus Mac-Ivor should wish to marry Rose Bradwardine?--I
love her not.--I might have been loved by her, perhaps; but I rejected
her simple, natural, and affecting attachment, instead of cherishing it
into tenderness, and dedicated myself to one who will never love mortal
man, unless old Warwick, the King-maker, should arise from the dead.
The Baron, too--I would not have cared about his estate, and so the
name would have been no stumbling-block, The devil might have taken the
barren moors, and drawn off the royal CALIGAE, for anything I would have
minded. But, framed as she is for domestic affection and tenderness, for
giving and receiving all those kind and quiet attentions which sweeten
life to those who pass it together, she is sought by Fergus Mac-Ivor. He
will not use her ill, to be sure--of that he is incapable--but he will
neglect her after the first month; he will be too intent on subduing
some rival chieftain, or circumventing some favourite at court, on
gaining some heathy hill and lake, or adding to his bands some new troop
of caterans, to inquire what she does, or how she amuses herself.

     And then will canker sorrow eat her bud,
     And chase the native beauty from her cheek;
     And she will look as hollow as a ghost,
     And dim and meagre as an ague fit,
     And so she'll die.

And such a catastrophe of the most gentle creature on earth might have
been prevented, if Mr. Edward Waverley had had his eyes! Upon my word,
I cannot understand how I thought Flora so much--that is, so very
much--handsomer than Rose. She is taller, indeed, and her manner more
formed; but many people think Miss Bradwardine's more natural; and she
is certainly much younger. I should think Flora is two years older than
I am--I will look at them particularly this evening.'

And with this resolution Waverley went to drink tea (as the fashion was
Sixty Years since) at the house of a lady of quality attached to the
cause of the Chevalier, where he found, as he expected, both the ladies.
All rose as he entered, but Flora immediately resumed her place, and
the conversation in which she was engaged. Rose, on the contrary, almost
imperceptibly, made a little way in the crowded circle for his advancing
the corner of a chair. 'Her manner, upon the whole, is most engaging,'
said Waverley to himself.

A dispute occurred whether the Gaelic or Italian language was most
liquid, and best adapted for poetry; the opinion for the Gaelic, which
probably might not have found supporters elsewhere, was here fiercely
defended by seven Highland ladies, who talked at the top of their lungs,
and screamed the company deaf, with examples of Celtic EUPHONIA. Flora,
observing the Lowland ladies sneer at the comparison, produced some
reasons to show that it was not altogether so absurd; but Rose, when
asked for her opinion, gave it with animation in praise of Italian,
which she had studied with Waverley's assistance. 'She has a more
correct ear than Flora, though a less accomplished musician,' said
Waverley to himself. 'I suppose Miss Mac-Ivor will next compare
Mac-Murrough nan Fonn to Ariosto!'

Lastly, it so befell that the company differed whether Fergus should
be asked to perform on the flute, at which he was an adept, or Waverley
invited to read a play of Shakespeare; and the lady of the house
good-humouredly undertook to collect the votes of the company for poetry
or music, under the condition, that the gentleman whose talents were not
laid under contribution that evening, should contribute them to enliven
the next. It chanced that Rose had the casting vote. Now Flora, who
seemed to impose it as a rule upon herself never to countenance any
proposal which might seem to encourage Waverley, had voted for music,
providing the Baron would take his violin to accompany Fergus. 'I wish
you joy of your taste, Miss Mac-Ivor,' thought Edward, as they sought
for his book. 'I thought it better when we were at Glennaquoich; but
certainly the Baron is no great performer, and Shakespeare is worth
listening to.'

ROMEO AND JULIET was selected, and Edward read with taste, feeling, and
spirit, several scenes from that play. All the company applauded with
their hands, and many with their tears. Flora, to whom the drama was
well known, was among the former; Rose, to whom it was altogether new,
belonged to the latter class of admirers. 'She has more feeling, too,'
said Waverley, internally.

The conversation turning upon the incidents of the play, and upon the
characters, Fergus declared that the only one worth naming, as a man of
fashion and spirit, was Mercutio. 'I could not,' he said, 'quite follow
all his old-fashioned wit, but he must have been a very pretty fellow,
according to the ideas of his time.'

'And it was a shame,' said Ensign Maccombich, who usually followed his
Colonel everywhere, 'for that Tibbert, or Taggart, or whatever was his
name, to stick him under the other gentleman's arm while he was redding
the fray.'

The ladies, of course, declared loudly in favour of Romeo; but this
opinion did not go undisputed. The mistress of the house, and several
other ladies, severely reprobated the levity with which the hero
transfers his affections from Rosalind to Juliet. Flora remained silent
until her opinion was repeatedly requested, and then answered, she
thought the circumstance objected to not only reconcilable to nature,
but such as in the highest degree evinced the art of the poet. 'Romeo
is described,' said she, 'as a young man, peculiarly susceptible of
the softer passions; his love is at first fixed upon a woman who could
afford it no return; this he repeatedly tells you,--

     From love's weak childish bow she lives unharmed;

and again,--

     She hath forsworn to love.

Now, as it was impossible that Romeo's love, supposing him a reasonable
being, could continue to subsist without hope, the poet has, with great
art, seized the moment when he was reduced actually to despair, to throw
in his way an object more accomplished than her by whom he had been
rejected, and who is disposed to repay his attachment. I can scarce
conceive a situation more calculated to enhance the ardour of Romeo's
affection for Juliet, than his being at once raised by her from the
state of drooping melancholy in which he appears first upon the scene,
to the ecstatic state in which he exclaims--

     --come what sorrow can,
     It cannot countervail the exchange of joy
     That one short moment gives me in her sight.'

'Good, now, Miss Mac-Ivor,' said a young lady of quality, 'do you mean
to cheat us out of our prerogative? will you persuade us love cannot
subsist-without hope, or that the lover must become fickle if the lady
is cruel? Oh, fie! I did not expect such an unsentimental conclusion.'

'A lover, my dear Lady Betty,' said Flora, 'may, I conceive, persevere
in his suit under very discouraging circumstances. Affection can (now
and then) withstand very severe storms of rigour, but not a long polar
frost of downright indifference. Don't, even with YOUR attractions, try
the experiment upon any lover whose faith you value. Love will subsist
on wonderfully little hope, but not altogether without it.'

'It will be just like Duncan Mac-Girdie's mare,' said Evan, 'if your
ladyships please; he wanted to use her by degrees to live without meat,
and just as he had put her on a straw a day, the poor thing died!'

Evan's illustration set the company a-laughing, and the discourse took
a different turn. Shortly afterwards the party broke up, and Edward
returned home, musing on what Flora had said. 'I will love my Rosalind
no more,' said he: 'she has given me a broad enough hint for that; and
I will speak to her brother, and resign my suit. But for a Juliet--would
it be handsome to interfere with Fergus's pretensions?--though it
is impossible they can ever succeed: and should they miscarry, what
then?--why then ALORS COMME ALORS.' And with this resolution, of being
guided by circumstances, did our hero commit himself to repose.



CHAPTER LV

A BRAVE MAN IN SORROW

If my fair readers should be of opinion that my hero's levity in love
is altogether unpardonable, I must remind them that all his griefs and
difficulties did not arise from that sentimental source. Even the lyric
poet, who complains so feelingly of the pains of love, could not forget,
that, at the same time, he was 'in debt and in drink,' which, doubtless,
were great aggravations of his distress. There were indeed whole days in
which Waverley thought neither of Flora nor Rose Bradwardine, but which
were spent in melancholy conjectures on the probable state of matters at
Waverley-Honour, and the dubious issue of the civil contest in which he
was pledged. Colonel Talbot often engaged him in discussions upon
the justice of the cause he had espoused. 'Not,' he said, 'that it is
possible for you to quit it at this present moment, for, come what will,
you must stand by your rash engagement. But I with you to be aware
that the right is not with you; that you are fighting against the real
interests of your country; and that you ought, as an Englishman and a
patriot, to take the first opportunity to leave this unhappy expedition
before the snowball melts.'

In such political disputes, Waverley usually opposed the common
arguments of his party, with which it is unnecessary to trouble the
reader. But he had little to say when the Colonel urged him to compare
the strength by which they had undertaken to overthrow the Government,
with that which was now assembling very rapidly for its support. To this
statement Waverley had but one answer: 'If the cause I have undertaken
be perilous, there would be the greater disgrace in abandoning it.'
And in his turn he generally silenced Colonel Talbot, and succeeded in
changing the subject.

One night, when, after a long dispute of this nature, the friends
had separated, and our hero had retired to bed, he was awakened about
midnight by a suppressed groan. He started up and listened; it came from
the apartment of Colonel Talbot, which was divided from his own by a
wainscoted partition, with a door of communication. Waverley approached
this door, and distinctly heard one or two deep-drawn sighs. What could
be the matter? The Colonel had parted from him, apparently, in his
usual state of spirits. He must have been taken suddenly ill. Under
this impression, he opened the door of communication very gently, and
perceived the Colonel, in his nightgown, seated by a table, on which
lay a letter and a picture. He raised his head hastily, as Edward stood
uncertain whether to advance or retire, and Waverley perceived that his
cheeks were stained with tears.

As if ashamed at being found giving way to such emotion, Colonel Talbot
rose with apparent displeasure, and said, with some sternness, 'I think,
Mr. Waverley, my own apartment, and the hour, might have secured even a
prisoner against'--

'Do not say INTRUSION, Colonel Talbot; I heard you breathe hard, and
feared you were ill; that alone could have induced me to break in upon
you.'

'I am well,' said the Colonel, 'perfectly well.'

'But you are distressed,' said Edward: 'is there anything can be done?'

'Nothing, Mr. Waverley: I was only thinking of home, and of some
unpleasant occurrences there.'

'Good God, my uncle!' exclaimed Waverley.

'No,--it is a grief entirely my own. I am ashamed you should have seen
it disarm me so much; but it must have its course at times, that it may
be at others more decently supported. I would have kept it secret from
you; for I think it will grieve you, and yet you can administer no
consolation. But you have surprised me,--I see you are surprised
yourself,--and I hate mystery. Read that letter.

The letter was from Colonel Talbot's sister, and in these words:

'I received yours, my dearest brother, by Hodges. Sir E. W. and Mr. R.
are still at large, but are not permitted to leave London. I wish to
Heaven I could give you as good an account of matters in the square.
But the news of the unhappy affair at Preston came upon us, with the
dreadful addition that you were among the fallen. You know Lady Emily's
state of health, when your friendship for Sir E. induced you to leave
her. She was much harassed with the sad accounts from Scotland of the
rebellion having broken out; but kept up her spirits as, she said, it
became your wife, and for the sake of the future heir, so long hoped
for in vain. Alas, my dear brother, these hopes are now ended!
Notwithstanding all my watchful care, this unhappy rumour reached her
without preparation. She was taken ill immediately; and the poor infant
scarce survived its birth. Would to God this were all! But although
the contradiction of the horrible report by your own letter has greatly
revived her spirits, yet Dr--apprehends, I grieve to say, serious,
and even dangerous, consequences to her health, especially from
the uncertainty in which she must necessarily remain for some time,
aggravated by the ideas she has formed of the ferocity of those with
whom you are a prisoner.

Do therefore, my dear brother, as soon as this reaches you, endeavour to
gain your release, by parole, by ransom, or any way that is practicable.
I do not exaggerate Lady Emily's state of health; but I must not--dare
not--suppress the truth.--Ever, my dear Philip, your most affectionate
sister, 'LUCY TALBOT.'

Edward stood motionless when he had perused this letter; for the
conclusion was inevitable, that by the Colonel's journey in quest of
him, he had incurred this heavy calamity. It was severe enough, even in
its irremediable part; for Colonel Talbot and Lady Emily, long without a
family, had fondly exulted in the hopes which were now blasted. But this
disappointment was nothing to the extent of the threatened evil; and
Edward, with horror, regarded himself as the original cause of both.

Ere he could collect himself sufficiently to speak, Colonel Talbot had
recovered his usual composure of manner, though his troubled eye denoted
his mental agony.

'She is a woman, my young friend, who may justify even a soldier's
tears.' He reached him the miniature, exhibiting features which fully
justified the eulogium; 'and yet, God knows, what you see of her there
is the least of the charms she possesses--possessed, I should perhaps
say--but God's will be done!'

'You must fly--you must fly instantly to her relief. It is not--it shall
not be too late.'

'Fly!--how is it possible? I am a prisoner--upon parole.'

'I am your keeper--I restore your parole-I am to answer for you.'

'You cannot do so consistently with your duty; nor can I accept a
discharge from you with due regard to my own honour--you would be made
responsible.'

'I will answer it with my head, if necessary,' said Waverley,
impetuously. 'I have been the unhappy cause of the loss of your
child--make me not the murderer of your wife.'

'No, my dear Edward,' said Talbot, taking him kindly by the hand, 'you
are in no respect to blame; and if I concealed this domestic distress
for two days, it was lest your sensibility should view it in that light.
You could not think of me, hardly knew of my existence, when I
left England in quest of you. It is a responsibility, Heaven knows,
sufficiently heavy for mortality, that we must answer for the foreseen
and direct result of our actions,--for their indirect and consequential
operation, the great and good Being, who alone can foresee the
dependence of human events on each other, hath not pronounced his frail
creatures liable.'

But that you should have left Lady Emily,' said Waverley, with much
emotion, 'in the situation of all others the most interesting to a
husband, to seek a--'

'I only did my duty,' answered Colonel Talbot, calmly, 'and I do not,
ought not to regret it. If the path of gratitude and honour were always
smooth and easy, there would be little merit in following it; but it
moves often in contradiction to our interest and passions, and sometimes
to our better affections. These are the trials of life, and this, though
not the least bitter' (the tears came unbidden to his eyes), 'is not the
first which it has been my fate to encounter. But we will talk of this
to-morrow,' he said, wringing Waverley's hands. 'Good night; strive to
forget it for a few hours. It will dawn, I think, by six, and it is now
past two. Good-night.'

Edward retired, without trusting his voice with a reply.



CHAPTER LVI

EXERTION

When Colonel Talbot entered the breakfast-parlour next morning, he
learned from Waverley's servant that our hero had been abroad at an
early hour, and was not yet returned. The morning was well advanced
before he again appeared, He arrived out of breath, but with an air of
joy that astonished Colonel Talbot.

'There,' said he, throwing a paper on the table, 'there is my morning's
work.--Alick, pack up the Colonel's clothes. Make haste, make haste.'

The Colonel examined the paper with astonishment. It was a pass from the
Chevalier to Colonel Talbot, to repair to Leith, or any other port
in possession of his Royal Highness's troops, and there to embark for
England or elsewhere, at his free pleasure; he only giving his parole of
honour not to bear arms against the house of Stuart for the space of a
twelvemonth.

'In the name of God,' said the Colonel, his eyes sparkling with
eagerness, 'how did you obtain this?'

'I was at the Chevalier's levee as soon as he usually rises. He was gone
to the camp at Duddingston. I pursued him thither; asked and obtained an
audience--but I will tell you not a word more, unless I see you begin to
pack.'

'Before I know whether I can avail myself of this passport, or how it
was obtained?'

'Oh, you can take out the things again, you know.--Now I see you busy,
I will go on. When I first mentioned your name, his eyes sparkled almost
as bright as yours did two minutes since. "Had you," he earnestly asked,
"shown any sentiments favourable to his cause?"

"Not in the least, nor was there any hope you would do so." His
countenance fell. I requested your freedom. "Impossible," he
said;--"your importance, as a friend and confidant of such and such
personages, made my request altogether extravagant." I told him my own
story and yours and asked him to judge what my feelings must be by his
own. He has a heart, and a kind one, Colonel Talbot, you may say what
you please. He took a sheet of paper, and wrote the pass with his own
hand. "I will not-trust myself with my council," he said "they will
argue me out of what is right. I will not endure that a friend, valued
as I value you, should be loaded with the painful reflections which must
afflict you in ease of further misfortune in Colonel Talbot's family;
nor will I keep a brave enemy a prisoner under such circumstances.
Besides," said he, "I think I can justify myself to my prudent advisers,
by pleading the good effect such lenity will produce on the minds of the
great English families with whom Colonel Talbot is connected."'

'There the politician peeped out,' said the Colonel.

'Well, at least he concluded like a king's son--"Take the passport; I
have added a condition for form's sake; but if the Colonel objects to
it, let him depart without giving any parole whatever. I come here to
war with men, but not to distress or endanger women."'

'Well, I never thought to have been so much indebted to the Pretend--'

'To the Prince,' said Waverley, smiling.

'To the Chevalier,' said the Colonel; 'it is a good travelling name, and
which we may both freely use. Did he say anything more?'

'Only asked if there was anything else he could oblige me in; and when
I replied in the negative, he shook me by the hand, and wished all his
followers were as considerate, since some friends of mine not only asked
all he had to bestow, but many things which were entirely out of his
power, or that of the greatest sovereign upon earth. Indeed, he said,
no prince seemed, in the eyes of his followers, so like the Deity as
himself, if you were to judge from the extravagant requests which they
daily preferred to him.'

'Poor young gentleman!' said the Colonel 'I suppose he begins to feel
the difficulties of his situation. Well, dear Waverley, this is more
than kind, and shall not be forgotten while Philip Talbot can remember
anything. My life--pshaw--let Emily thank you for that--this is a
favour worth fifty lives. I cannot hesitate on giving my parole in the
circumstances: there it is--(he wrote it out in form)--and now, how am I
to get off?'

'All that is settled: your baggage is packed, my horses wait, and a boat
has been engaged, by the Prince's permission, to put you on board the
Fox frigate. I sent a messenger down to Leith on purpose.'

'That will do excellently well. Captain Beaver is my particular friend:
he will put me ashore at Berwick or Shields, from whence I can ride post
to London;--and you must entrust me with the packet of papers which you
recovered by means of your Miss Bean Lean. I may have an opportunity
of using them to your advantage.--But I see your Highland friend,
Glen--what do you call his barbarous name? and his orderly with him--I
must not call him his orderly cut-throat any more, I suppose. See how he
walks as if the world were his own, with the bonnet on one side of his
head, and his plaid puffed out across his breast! I should like now to
meet that youth where my hands were not tied: I would tame his pride, or
he should tame mine,'

'For shame, Colonel Talbot! you swell at sight of tartan, as the bull
is said to do at scarlet. You and Mac-Ivor have some points not much
unlike, so far as national prejudice is concerned.'

The latter part of this discourse took place in the street. They passed
the Chief, the Colonel and he sternly and punctiliously greeting each
other, like two duellists before they take their ground. It was evident
the dislike was mutual. 'I never see that surly fellow that dogs his
heels,' said the Colonel, after he had mounted his horse, 'but he
reminds me of lines I have somewhere heard--upon the stage, I think:

     --Close behind him
     Stalks sullen Bertram, like a sorcerer's fiend,
     Pressing to be employed.'

'I assure you, Colonel,' said Waverley,' that you judge too harshly of
the Highlanders.'

'Not a whit, not a whit; I cannot spare them a jot--I cannot bate them
an ace. Let them stay in their own barren mountains, and puff and swell,
and hang their bonnets on the horns of the moon, if they have a mind;
but what business have they to come where people wear breeches, and
speak an intelligible language? I mean intelligible in comparison with
their gibberish, for even the Lowlanders talk a kind of English little
better than the negroes in Jamaica. I could pity the Pr--, I mean the
Chevalier himself, for having so many desperadoes about him. And they
learn their trade so early. There is a kind of subaltern imp, for
example, a sort of sucking devil, whom your friend Glenna--Glennamuck
there, has sometimes in his train. To look at him, he is about fifteen
years; but he is a century old in mischief and villany. He was playing
at quoits the other day in the court; a gentleman--a decent-looking
person enough--came past, and as a quoit hit his shin, he lifted his
cane: but my young brave whips out his pistol, like Beau Clincher in the
TRIP TO THE JUBILEE and had not a scream of GARDEZ L'EAU from an
upper window set all parties a-scampering for fear of the inevitable
consequences, the poor gentleman would have lost his life by the hands
of that little cockatrice.'

'A fine character you'll give of Scotland upon your return, Colonel
Talbot.'

'Oh, Justice Shallow,' said the Colonel, 'will save me the
trouble--"Barren, barren--beggars all, beggars all. Marry, good
air,"--and that only when you are fairly out of Edinburgh, and not yet
come to Leith, as is our case at present.'

In a short time they arrived at the seaport:

     The boat rocked at the pier of Leith,
     Full loud the wind blew down the ferry;
     The ship rode at the Berwick Law--

'Farewell, Colonel; may you find all as you would wish it! Perhaps we
may meet sooner than you expect: they talk of an immediate route to
England.'

Tell me nothing of that,' said Talbot 'I wish to carry no news of your
motions.'

'Simply then, adieu. Say, with a thousand kind greetings, all that is
dutiful and affectionate to Sir Everard and Aunt Rachel. Think of me as
kindly as you can--speak of me as indulgently as your conscience will
permit, and once more adieu.'

'And adieu, my dear Waverley!--many, many thanks for your kindness.
Unplaid yourself on the first opportunity. I shall ever think on
you with gratitude, and the worst of my censure shall be, QUE DIABLE
ALLOIT-IL FAIRE DANS CETTE GALERE?'

And thus they parted, Colonel Talbot going on board of the boat, and
Waverley returning to Edinburgh.



CHAPTER LVII

THE MARCH

It is not our purpose to intrude upon the province of history. We shall
therefore only remind our readers, that about the beginning of November
the Young Chevalier, at the head of about six thousand men at the
utmost, resolved to peril his cause on an attempt to penetrate into the
centre of England, although aware of the mighty preparations which were
made for his reception. They set forward on this crusade in weather
which would have rendered any other troops incapable of marching, but
which in reality gave these active mountaineers advantages over a less
hardy enemy. In defiance of a superior army lying upon the Borders,
under Field Marshal Wade, they besieged and took Carlisle, and soon
afterwards prosecuted their daring march to the southward.

As Colonel Mac-Ivor's regiment marched in the van of the clans, he and
Waverley, who now equalled any Highlander in the endurance of fatigue,
and was become somewhat acquainted with their language, were perpetually
at its head. They marked the progress of the army, however, with very
different eyes. Fergus, all air and fire, and confident against the
world in arms, measured nothing but that every step was a yard nearer
London. He neither asked, expected, nor desired any aid, except that
of the clans, to place the Stuarts once more on the throne; and when by
chance a few adherents joined the standard, he always considered them in
the light of new claimants upon the favours of the future monarch, who,
he concluded, must therefore subtract for their gratification so much of
the bounty which ought to be shared among his Highland followers.

Edward's views were very different. He could not but observe, that in
those towns in which they proclaimed James the Third, 'no man cried, God
bless him.' The mob stared and listened, heartless, stupefied, and dull,
but gave few signs even of that boisterous spirit which induces them
to shout upon all occasions, for the mere exercise of their most sweet
voices. The Jacobites had been taught to believe that the north-western
counties abounded with wealthy squires and hardy yeomen, devoted to the
cause of the White Rose. But of the wealthier Tories they saw little.
Some fled from their houses, some feigned themselves sick, some
surrendered themselves to the Government as suspected persons. Of such
as remained, the ignorant gazed with astonishment, mixed with horror and
aversion, at the wild appearance, unknown language, and singular garb,
of the Scottish clans. And to the more prudent, their scanty numbers,
apparent deficiency in discipline; and poverty of equipment, seemed
certain tokens of the calamitous termination of their rash undertaking.
Thus the few who joined them were such as bigotry of political principle
blinded to consequences, or whose broken fortunes induced them to hazard
all on a risk so desperate.

The Baron of Bradwardine being asked what he thought of these recruits,
took a long pinch of snuff, and answered drily, 'that he could not but
have an excellent opinion of them, since they resembled precisely the
followers who attached themselves to the good King David at the cave of
Adullam; VIDELICET, every one that was in distress, and every one that
was in debt, and every one that was discontented, which the Vulgate
renders bitter of soul; and doubtless,' he said 'they will prove mighty
men of their hands, and there is much need that they should, for I have
seen many a sour look cast upon us.'

But none of these considerations moved Fergus. He admired the luxuriant
beauty of the country, and the situation of many of the seats which they
passed. 'Is Waverley-Honour like that house, Edward?'

'It is one half larger.'

'Is your uncle's park as fine a one as that?'

'It is three times; as extensive, and rather resembles a forest than a
mere park.'

'Flora, will be a happy woman.'

'I hope Miss Mac-Ivor will have much reason for happiness, unconnected
with Waverley-Honour.'

'I hope so too; but, to be mistress of such a place, will be a pretty
addition to the sum total.'

'An addition, the want of which, I trust, will be amply supplied by some
other means.'

'How,' said Fergus, stopping short, and turning upon Waverley--'How am
I to understand that, Mr. Waverley?--Had I the pleasure to hear you
aright?'

'Perfectly right, Fergus.'

'And I am to understand that you no longer desire my alliance, and my
sister's hand?'

'Your sister has refused mine,' said Waverley, 'both directly, and by
all the usual means by which ladies repress undesired attentions.'

'I have no idea,' answered the Chieftain, 'of a lady dismissing or a
gentleman withdrawing his suit, after it has been approved of by her
legal guardian, without giving him an opportunity of talking the matter
over with the lady. You did not, I suppose, expect my sister to drop
into your mouth like a ripe plum, the first moment you chose to open
it?'

'As to the lady's title to dismiss her lover, Colonel replied Edward,
'it is a point which you must argue with her, as I am ignorant of the
customs of the Highlands in that particular. But as to my title to
acquiesce in a rejection from her without an appeal to your interest,
I will tell you plainly, without meaning to undervalue Miss Mac-Ivor's
admitted beauty and accomplishments, that I would not take the hand of
an angel, with an empire for her dowry, if her consent were extorted by
the importunity of friends and guardians, and did not flow from her own
free inclination.'

'An angel, with the dowry of an empire,' repeated Fergus, in a tone
of bitter irony, 'is not very likely to be pressed upon a--shire
squire.--But sir,' changing his tone, 'if Flora Mac-Ivor have not the
dowry of an empire, she is my sister; and that is sufficient at least to
secure her against being treated with anything approaching to levity.'

She is Flora Mac-Ivor, sir,' said Waverley, with firmness, 'which to
me, were I capable of treating any woman with levity, would be a more
effectual protection.'

The brow of the Chieftain was now fully clouded, but Edward felt too
indignant at the unreasonable tone which he had adopted, to avert the
storm by the least concession. They both stood still while this short
dialogue passed, and Fergus seemed half disposed to say something more
violent, but, by a strong effort, suppressed his passion, and, turning
his face forward, walked sullenly on. As they had always hitherto walked
together, and almost constantly side by side; Waverley pursued his
course silently in the same direction, determined to let the Chief take
his own time in recovering the good humour which he had so unreasonably
discarded, and firm in his resolution not to bate him an inch of
dignity.

After they had marched on in this sullen manner about a mile, Fergus
resumed the discourse in a different tone. 'I believe I was warm, my
dear Edward, but you provoke me with your want of knowledge of the
world. You have taken pet at some of Flora's prudery, or high-flying
notions of loyalty, and now, like a child, you quarrel with the
plaything you have been crying for, and beat me, your faithful keeper,
because my arm cannot reach to Edinburgh to hand it to you. I am sure,
if I was passionate, the mortification of losing the alliance of such a
friend, after your arrangement had been the talk of both Highlands and
Lowlands, and that without so much as knowing why or wherefore, might
well provoke calmer blood than mine. I shall write to Edinburgh, and
put all to rights; that is, if you desire I should do so,--as indeed
I cannot suppose that your good opinion of Flora, it being such as you
have often expressed to me, can be at once laid aside.'

'Colonel Mac-Ivor,' said Edward, who had no mind to be hurried farther
or faster than he chose, in a matter which he had already considered as
broken off, 'I am fully sensible of the value of your good offices; and
certainly, by your zeal on my behalf in such an affair, you do me no
small honour. But as Miss Mac-Ivor has made her election freely and
voluntarily, and as all my attentions in Edinburgh were received with
more than coldness, I cannot, in justice either to her or myself,
consent that she should again be harassed upon this topic. I would have
mentioned this to you some time since;--but you saw the footing upon
which we stood together, and must have understood it. Had I thought
otherwise, I would have earlier spoken; but I had a natural reluctance
to enter upon a subject so painful to us both.'

'Oh, very well, Mr. Waverley,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the thing is at
an end. I have no occasion to press my sister upon any man.'

'Nor have I any occasion to court repeated rejection from the same young
lady,' answered Edward, in the same tone.

'I shall make due inquiry, however,' said the Chieftain, without
noticing the interruption, 'and learn what my sister thinks of all this:
we will then see whether it is to end here.'

'Respecting such inquiries, you will of course be guided by your own
judgement,' said Waverley. 'It is, I am aware, impossible Miss Mac-Ivor
can change her mind; and were such an unsupposable case to happen, it
is certain I will not change mine. I only mention this to prevent any
possibility of future misconstruction.'

Gladly at this moment would Mac-Ivor have put their quarrel to a
personal arbitrament;--his eye flashed fire, and he measured Edward as
if to choose where he might best plant a mortal wound. But although
we do not now quarrel according to the modes and figures of Caranza or
Vincent Saviola, no one knew better than Fergus that there must be some
decent pretext for a mortal duel. For instance, you may challenge a man
for treading on your corn in a crowd, or for pushing you up to the wall,
or for taking your seat in the theatre; but the modern code of honour
will not permit you to found a quarrel upon your right of compelling a
man to continue addresses to a female relative, which the fair lady has
already refused. So that Fergus was compelled to stomach this supposed
affront, until the whirligig of time, whose motion he promised himself
he would watch most sedulously, should bring about an opportunity of
revenge.

Waverley's servant always led a saddle-horse for him in the rear of the
battalion to which he was attached, though his master seldom rode. But
now, incensed at the domineering and unreasonable conduct of his late
friend, he fell behind the column, and mounted his horse, resolving to
seek the Baron of Bradwardine, and request permission to volunteer in
his troop, instead of the Mac-Ivor regiment.

'A happy time of it I should have had,' thought he, after he was
mounted, 'to have been so closely allied to this superb specimen of
pride and self-opinion and passion. A colonel! why, he should have been
a generalissimo. A petty chief of three or four hundred men!--his pride
might suffice for the Cham of Tartary--the Grand Seignior--the Great
Mogul! I am well free of him. Were Flora an angel, she would bring with
her a second Lucifer of ambition and wrath for a brother-in-law.

The Baron, whose learning (like Sancho's jests while in the Sierra
Morena) seemed to grow mouldy for want of exercise, joyfully embraced
the opportunity of Waverley's offering his service in his regiment, to
bring it into some exertion. The good-natured old gentleman, however,
laboured to effect a reconciliation between the two quondam friends.
Fergus turned a cold ear to his remonstrances, though he gave them a
respectful hearing; and as for Waverley, he saw no reason why he should
be the first in courting a renewal of the intimacy which the Chieftain
had so unreasonably disturbed. The Baron then mentioned the matter
to the Prince, who, anxious to prevent quarrels in his little army,
declared he would himself remonstrate with Colonel Mac-Ivor on the
unreasonableness of his conduct. But, in the hurry of their march, it
was a day or two before he had an opportunity to exert his influence in
the manner proposed.

In the meanwhile, Waverley turned the instructions he had received while
in Gardiner's dragoons to some account, and assisted the Baron in his
command as a sort of adjutant. 'PARMI LES AVEUGLES UN BORGNE EST ROI,'
says the French proverb; and the cavalry, which consisted chiefly of
Lowland gentlemen, their tenants and servants, formed a high opinion of
Waverley's skill, and a great attachment to his person. This was indeed
partly owing to the satisfaction which they felt at the distinguished
English volunteer's leaving the Highlanders to rank among them; for
there was a latent grudge between the horse and foot, not only owing
to the difference of the services, but because most of the gentlemen,
living near the Highlands, had at one time or other had quarrels with
the tribes in their vicinity, and all of them looked with a jealous eye
on the Highlanders' avowed pretensions to superior valour, and utility
in the Prince's service.



CHAPTER LVIII

THE CONFUSION OF KING AGRAMANT'S CAMP

It was Waverley's custom sometimes to ride a little apart from the main
body, to look at any object of curiosity which occurred on the march.
They were now in Lancashire, when, attracted by a castellated old hall,
he left the squadron for half an hour, to take a survey and slight
sketch of it. As he returned down the avenue, he was met by Ensign
Maccombich. This man had contracted a sort of regard for Edward since
the day of his first seeing him at Tully-Veolan, and introducing him to
the Highlands. He seemed to loiter, as if on purpose to meet with
our hero. Yet, as he passed him, he only approached his stirrup, and
pronounced the single word, 'Beware!' and then walked swiftly on,
shunning all further communication.

Edward, somewhat surprised at this hint, followed with his eyes the
course of Evan, who speedily disappeared among the trees. His servant,
Alick Polwarth, who was in attendance, also looked after the Highlander,
and then riding up close to his master, said,

'The ne'er be in me, sir, if I think you're safe amang thae Highland
rintherouts.'

'What do you mean, Alick?' said Waverley.

'The Mac-Ivors, sir, hae gotten it into their heads, that ye hae
affronted their young leddy, Miss Flora; and I hae heard mae than ane
say, they wadna, tak muckle to make a black-cock o' ye; and ye ken
weel eneugh there's mony o' them wadna mind a bawbee the weising a ball
through the Prince himsell, an the Chief gae them the wink--or whether
he did or no,--if they thought it a thing that would please him when it
was dune.'

Waverley, though confident that Fergus Mac-Ivor was incapable of such
treachery, was by no means equally sure of the forbearance of his
followers. He knew, that where the honour of the Chief or his family was
supposed to be touched, the happiest man would be he that could first
avenge the stigma; and he had often heard them quote a proverb, 'That
the best revenge was the most speedy and most safe.' Coupling this with
the hint of Evan, he judged it most prudent to set spurs to his horse,
and ride briskly back to the squadron. Ere he reached the end of the
long avenue, however, a ball whistled past him, and the report of a
pistol was heard.

'It was that deevil's buckie, Callum Beg,' said Alick; I saw him whisk
away through amang the reises.'

Edward, justly incensed at this act of treachery, galloped out of the
avenue, and observed the battalion of Mac-Ivor at some distance moving
along the common, in which it terminated. He also saw an individual
running very fast to join the party; this he concluded was the intended
assassin, who, by leaping an enclosure, might easily make a much shorter
path to the main body than he could find on horseback. Unable to contain
himself, he commanded Alick to go to the Baron of Bradwardine, who was
at the head of his regiment about half a mile in front, and acquaint
him with what had happened. He himself immediately rode up to Fergus's
regiment. The Chief himself was in the act of joining them. He was on
horseback, having returned from waiting on the Prince. On perceiving
Edward approaching, he put his horse in motion towards him.

'Colonel Mac-Ivor,' said Waverley, without any further salutation, 'I
have to inform you that one of your people has this instant fired at me
from a lurking-place.

'As that,' answered Mac-Ivor, 'excepting the circumstance of a
lurking-place, is a pleasure which I presently propose to myself, I
should be glad to know which of my clansmen dared to anticipate me.'

'I shall certainly be at your command whenever you please;--the
gentleman who took your office upon himself is your page there, Callum
Beg.'

'Stand forth from the ranks, Callum! Did you fire at Mr. Waverley?'

'No,' answered the unblushing Callum.

'You did,' said Alick Polwarth, who was already returned, having met a
trooper by whom he dispatched an account of what was going forward to
the Baron of Bradwardine, while he himself returned to his master at
full gallop, neither sparing the rowels of his spurs, nor the sides of
his horse. 'You did; I saw you as plainly as I ever saw the auld kirk at
Coudingham.'

'You lie,' replied Callum, with his usual impenetrable obstinacy. The
combat between the knights would certainly, as in the days of chivalry,
have been preceded by an encounter between the squires (for Alick was
a stout-hearted Merseman, and feared the bow of Cupid far more than
a Highlander's dirk or claymore), but Fergus, with his usual tone of
decision, demanded Callum's pistol. The cock was down, the pan and
muzzle were black with the smoke; it had been that instant fired.

'Take that,' said Fergus, striking the boy upon the head with the heavy
pistol-butt with his whole force, 'take that for acting without orders,
and lying to disguise it.' Callum received the blow without appearing to
flinch from it, and fell without sign of life. 'Stand still, upon your
lives!' said Fergus to the rest of the clan; 'I blow out the brains of
the first man who interferes between Mr. Waverley and me.' They stood
motionless; Evan Dhu alone showed symptoms of vexation and anxiety.
Callum lay on the ground bleeding copiously, but no one ventured to give
him any assistance. It seemed as if he had gotten his death-blow.

'And now for you, Mr. Waverley; please to turn your horse twenty yards
with me upon the common.' Waverley complied; and Fergus, confronting
him when they were a little way from the line of march, said, with great
affected coolness, 'I could not but wonder, sir, at the fickleness of
taste which you were pleased to express the other day. But it was not
an angel, as you justly observed, who had charms for you, unless she
brought an empire for her fortune. I have now an excellent commentary
upon that obscure text.'

'I am at a loss even to guess at your meaning, Colonel Mac-Ivor, unless
it seems plain that you intend to fasten a quarrel upon me.'

'Your affected ignorance shall not serve you, sir. The Prince,--the
Prince himself, has acquainted me with your manoeuvres, I little thought
that your engagements with Miss Bradwardine were the reason of
your breaking off your intended match with my sister. I suppose the
information that the Baron had altered the destination of his estate,
was quite a sufficient reason for slighting your friend's sister, and
carrying off your friend's mistress.'

'Did the Prince tell you I was engaged to Miss Bradwardine?' said
Waverley. 'Impossible.'

'He did, sir,' answered Mac-Ivor; 'so, either draw and defend yourself,
or resign your pretensions to the lady.'

'This is absolute madness,' exclaimed Waverley, 'or some strange
mistake!'

'Oh! no evasion! draw your sword!' said the infuriated Chieftain,--his
own already unsheathed.

'Must I fight in a madman's quarrel?'

'Then give up now, and for ever, all pretensions to Miss Bradwardine's
hand.'

'What title have you,' cried Waverley, utterly losing command of
himself,--'What title have you, or any man living, to dictate such terms
to me?' And he also drew his sword.

At this moment the Baron of Bradwardine, followed by several of his
troop, came up on the spur, some from curiosity, others to take part in
the quarrel, which they indistinctly understood had broken out between
the Mac-Ivors and their corps. The clan, seeing them approach, put
themselves in motion to support their Chieftain, and a scene of
confusion commenced, which seemed likely to terminate in bloodshed.
A hundred tongues were in motion at once. The Baron lectured, the
Chieftain stormed, the Highlanders screamed in Gaelic, the horsemen
cursed and swore in Lowland Scotch. At length matters came to such a
pass, that the Baron threatened to charge the Mac-Ivors unless they
resumed their ranks, and many of them, in return, presented their
fire-arms at him and the other troopers. The confusion was privately
fostered by old Ballenkeiroch, who made no doubt that his own day
of vengeance was arrived, when, behold! a cry arose of 'Room! make
way!--PLACE A MONSEIGNEUR! PLACE A MONSEIGNEUR!' This announced the
approach of the Prince, who came up with a party of Fitz-James's foreign
dragoons that acted as his bodyguard. His arrival produced some degree
of order. The Highlanders re-assumed their ranks, the cavalry fell in
and formed squadron, and the Baron and Chieftain were silent.

The Prince called them and Waverley before him. Having heard the
original cause of the quarrel through the villany of Callum Beg, he
ordered him into custody of the provost-marshal for immediate execution,
in the event of his surviving the chastisement inflicted by his
Chieftain. Fergus, however, in a tone betwixt claiming a right and
asking a favour, requested he might be left to his disposal, and
promised his punishment should be exemplary. To deny this, might have
seemed to encroach on the patriarchal authority of the Chieftains,
of which they were very jealous, and they were not persons to be
disobliged. Callum was therefore left to the justice of his own tribe.

The Prince next demanded to know the new cause of quarrel between
Colonel Mac-Ivor and Waverley. There was a pause. Both gentlemen found
the presence of the Baron of Bradwardine (for by this time all three
had approached the Chevalier by his command) an insurmountable barrier
against entering upon a subject where the name of his daughter must
unavoidably be mentioned. They turned their eyes on the ground, with
looks in which shame and embarrassment were mingled with displeasure.
The Prince, who had been educated amongst the discontented and mutinous
spirits of the court of St. Germains, where feuds of every kind were the
daily subject of solicitude to the dethroned sovereign, had served his
apprenticeship, as old Frederick of Prussia would have said, to the
trade of royalty. To promote or restore concord among his followers was
indispensable. Accordingly he took his measures.

'Monsieur de Beaujeu!'

'Monseigneur!' said a very handsome French cavalry officer, who was in
attendance.

'Ayez la bonte d'alligner ces montagnards la, ainsi que la cavalerie,
s'il vous plait, et de les remettre a la marche. Vous parlez si bien
l'Anglois, cela ne vous donneroit pas beaucoup de peine.'

'Ah! pas de tout, Monseigneur,' replied Mons. le Comte de Beaujeu, his
head bending down to the neck of his little prancing highly-managed
charger. Accordingly he PIAFFED away, in high spirits and confidence,
to the head of Fergus's regiment, although understanding not a word of
Gaelic, and very little English.

'Messieurs les sauvages Ecossois--dat is--gentilmans savages, have the
goodness d'arranger vous.'

The clan, comprehending the order more from the gesture than the words,
and seeing the Prince himself present, hastened to dress their ranks.

'Ah! ver well! dat is fort bien!' said the Count de Beaujeu. 'Gentilmans
sauvages--mais tres bien--Eh bien!--Qu'est-ce que vous appellez visage,
Monsieur?' (to a lounging trooper who stood by him). 'Ah, oui! FACE--Je
vous remercie, Monsieur.--Gentilshommes, have de goodness to make
de face to de right par file, dat is, by files.--Marsh!--Mais tres
bien--encore, Messieurs; il faut vous mettre a la marche...Marchez donc,
au nom de Dieu, parceque j'ai oublie le mot Anglois--mais vous etes des
braves gens, et me comprenez tres bien.'

The Count next hastened to put the cavalry in motion. 'Gentilmans
cavalry, you must fall in--Ah! par ma foi, I did not say fall off! I am
a fear de little gross fat gentilman is moche hurt. Ah, mon Dieu! c'est
le Commissaire qui nous a apporte les premieres nouvelles de ce maudit
fracas. Je suis trop fache, Monsieur!'

But poor Macwheeble, who, with a sword stuck across him, and a white
cockade as large as a pancake, now figured in the character of a
commissary, being overturned in the bustle occasioned by the troopers
hastening to get themselves in order in the Prince's presence, before
he could rally his galloway, slunk to the rear amid the unrestrained
laughter of the spectators.

'Eh bien, Messieurs, wheel to de right--Ah! dat is it!--Eh, Monsieur de
Bradwardine, ayez la bonte de vous mettre a la tete de votre regiment,
car, par Dieu, je n'en puis plus!'

The Baron of Bradwardine was obliged to go to the assistance of Monsieur
de Beaujeu, after he had fairly expended his few English military
phrases. One purpose of the Chevalier was thus answered. The other he
proposed was, that in the eagerness to hear and comprehend commands
issued through such an indistinct medium in his own presence, the
thoughts of the soldiers in both corps might get a current different
from the angry channel in which they were flowing at the time.

Charles Edward was no sooner left with the Chieftain and Waverley, the
rest of his attendants being at some distance, than he said, 'If I owed
less to your disinterested friendship, I could be most seriously angry
with both of you for this very extraordinary and causeless broil, at a
moment when my father's service so decidedly demands the most perfect
unanimity. But the worst of my situation is, that my very best friends
hold they have liberty to ruin themselves, as well as the cause they are
engaged in, upon the slightest caprice.'

Both the young men protested their resolution to submit every difference
to his arbitration. 'Indeed,' said Edward, 'I hardly know of what I am
accused. I sought Colonel Mac-Ivor merely to mention to him that I had
narrowly escaped assassination at the hand of his immediate dependent--a
dastardly revenge, which I knew him to be incapable of authorizing. As
to the cause for which he is disposed to fasten a quarrel upon me, I
am ignorant of it, unless it be that he accuses me, most unjustly,
of having engaged the affections of a young lady in prejudice of his
pretensions.'

'If there is an error,' said the Chieftain, 'it arises from a
conversation which I held this morning with his Royal Highness himself.'

'With me?' said the Chevalier; 'how can Colonel Mac-Ivor have so far
misunderstood me?'

He then led Fergus aside, and, after five minutes' earnest conversation,
spurred his horse towards Edward. 'Is it possible--nay, ride up,
Colonel, for I desire no secrets--Is it possible, Mr. Waverley, that
I am mistaken in supposing that you are an accepted lover of Miss
Bradwardine?--a fact of which I was by circumstances, though not by
communication from you, so absolutely convinced, that I alleged it to
Vich Ian Vohr this morning as a reason why, without offence to him, you
might not continue to be ambitious of an alliance, which to an unengaged
person, even though once repulsed, holds out too many charms to be
lightly laid aside.'

'Your Royal Highness,' said Waverley, 'must have founded on
circumstances altogether unknown to me, when you did me the
distinguished honour of supposing me an accepted lover of Miss
Bradwardine. I feel the distinction implied in the supposition, but I
have no title to it. For the rest, my confidence in my own merits is
too justly slight to admit of my hoping for success in any quarter after
positive rejection.'

The Chevalier was silent for a moment, looking steadily at them both,
and then said, 'Upon my word, Mr. Waverley, you are a less happy man
than I conceived I had very good reason to believe you.--But now,
gentlemen, allow me to be umpire in this matter, not as Prince Regent,
but as Charles Stuart, a brother adventurer with you in the same gallant
cause. Lay my pretensions to be obeyed by you entirely out of view, and
consider your own honour, and how far it is well, or becoming, to give
our enemies the advantage, and our friends the scandal, of showing that,
few as we are, we are not united. And forgive me if I add, that the
names of the ladies who have been mentioned, crave more respect from us
all than to be made themes of discord.'

He took Fergus a little apart, and spoke to him very earnestly for two
or three minutes, and then returning to Waverley, said--'I believe I
have satisfied Colonel Mac-Ivor that his resentment was founded upon
a misconception, to which, indeed, I myself gave rise; and I trust Mr.
Waverley is too generous to harbour any recollection of what is past,
when I assure him that such is the case.--You must state this matter
properly to your clan, Vich Iain Vohr, to prevent a recurrence of their
precipitate violence.' Fergus bowed. 'And now, gentlemen, let me have
the pleasure to see you shake hands.'

They advanced coldly, and with measured steps, each apparently reluctant
to appear most forward in concession. They did, however, shake hands,
and parted, taking a respectful leave of the Chevalier. Charles Edward
[See Note 31.] then rode to the head of the Mac-Ivors, threw himself
from his horse, begged a drink out of old Ballenkeiroch's canteen, and
marched about half a mile along with them, inquiring into the history
and connexions of Sliochd nan Ivor, adroitly using the few words of
Gaelic he possessed, and affecting a great desire to learn it more
thoroughly. He then mounted his horse once more, and galloped to the
Baron's cavalry, which was in front; halted them, and examined their
accoutrements and state of discipline; took notice of the principal
gentlemen, and even of the cadets; inquired after their ladies,
and commended their horses;--rode about an hour with the Baron of
Bradwardine, and endured three long stories about Field-Marshal the Duke
of Berwick.

'Ah, Beaujeu, mon cher ami,' said he as he returned to his usual place
in the line of march, 'que mon metier de prince errant est ennuyant, par
fois. Mais, courage! c'est le grand jeu, apres tout.'



CHAPTER LIX

A SKIRMISH

The reader need hardly be reminded, that, after a council of war held
at Derby on the 5th of December, the Highlanders relinquished their
desperate attempt to penetrate farther into England, and, greatly to the
dissatisfaction of their young and daring leader, positively determined
to return northward. They commenced their retreat accordingly, and by
the extreme celerity of their movements, outstripped the motions of
the Duke of Cumberland, who now pursued them with a very large body of
cavalry.

This retreat was a virtual resignation of their towering hopes. None had
been so sanguine as Fergus Mac-Ivor; none, consequently, was so cruelly
mortified at the change of measures. He argued, or rather remonstrated,
with the utmost vehemence at the council of war; and, when his opinion
was rejected, shed tears of grief and indignation. From that moment
his whole manner was so much altered, that he could scarcely have been
recognized for the same soaring and ardent spirit, for whom the whole
earth seemed too narrow but a week before. The retreat had continued
for several days, when Edward, to his surprise, early on the 12th of
December, received a visit from the Chieftain in his quarters, in a
hamlet about half way between Shap and Penrith.

Having had no intercourse with the Chieftain since their rupture, Edward
waited with some anxiety an explanation of this unexpected visit; nor
could he help being surprised, and somewhat shocked, with the change in
his appearance. His eye had lost much of its fire; his cheek was hollow,
his voice was languid; even his gait seemed less firm and elastic
than it was wont; and his dress, to which he used to be particularly
attentive, was now carelessly flung about him. He invited Edward to
walk out with him by the little river in the vicinity; and smiled in
a melancholy manner when he observed him take down and buckle on his
sword.

As soon as they were in a wild sequestered path by the side of the
stream, the Chief broke out,--'Our fine adventure is now totally ruined,
Waverley, and I wish to know what you intend to do:--nay, never stare at
me, man. I tell you I received a packet from my sister yesterday, and,
had I got the information it contains sooner, it would have prevented
a quarrel, which I am always vexed when I think of. In a letter written
after our dispute, I acquainted her with the cause of it; and she now
replies to me, that she never had, nor could have, any purpose of giving
you encouragement; so that it seems I have acted like a madman. Poor
Flora! she writes in high spirits; what a change will the news of this
unhappy retreat make in her state of mind!'

Waverley, who was really much affected by the deep tone of melancholy
with which Fergus spoke, affectionately entreated him to banish from his
remembrance any unkindness which had arisen between them, and they once
more shook hands, but now with sincere cordiality. Fergus again inquired
of Waverley what he intended to do. 'Had you not better leave this
luckless army, and get down before us into Scotland, and embark for
the Continent from some of the eastern ports that are still in our
possession? When you are out of the kingdom, your friends will easily
negotiate your pardon; and, to tell you the truth, I wish you would
carry Rose Bradwardine with you as your wife, and take Flora also under
your joint protection.' Edward looked surprised--'She loves you, and I
believe you love her, though, perhaps, you have not found it out, for
you are not celebrated for knowing your own mind very pointedly.' He
said this with a sort of smile.

'How!' answered Edward,' can you advise me to desert the expedition in
which we are all embarked?'

'Embarked?' said Fergus; 'the vessel is going to pieces, and it is full
time for all who can, to get into the long-boat and leave her.'

'Why, what will other gentlemen do?' answered Waverley, 'and why did the
Highland chiefs consent to this retreat, if it is so ruinous?'

'Oh,' replied Mac-Ivor, 'they think that, as on former occasions, the
heading, hanging, and forfeiting, will chiefly fall to the lot of the
Lowland gentry; that they will be left secure in their poverty and their
fastnesses, there, according to their proverb, "to listen to the wind
upon the hill till the waters abate." But they will be disappointed;
they have been too often troublesome to be so repeatedly passed over,
and this time John Bull has been too heartily frightened to recover his
good humour for some time. The Hanoverian ministers always deserved
to be hanged for rascals; but now, if they get the power in their
hands,--as, sooner or later, they must, since there is neither rising
in England nor assistance from France,--they will deserve the gallows as
fools, if they leave a single clan in the Highlands in a situation to
be again troublesome to Government. Aye, they will make root-and-branch
work, I warrant them.'

'And while you recommend flight to me,' said Edward,--'a counsel which I
would rather die than embrace,--what are your own views?'

'Oh,' answered Fergus, with a melancholy air, 'my fate is settled. Dead
or captive I must be before to-morrow.'

'What do you mean by that, my friend?' said Edward. 'The enemy is still
a day's march in our rear, and if he comes up, we are still strong
enough to keep him in check. Remember Gladsmuir.'

'What I tell you is true notwithstanding, so far as I am individually
concerned.'

'Upon what authority can you found so melancholy a prediction?' asked
Waverley.

'On one which never failed a person of my house. I have seen,' he said,
lowering his voice, 'I have seen the Bodach Glas.'

'Bodach Glas?'

'Yes: have you been so long at Glennaquoich, and never heard of the Grey
Spectre? though indeed there is a certain reluctance among us to mention
him.'

'No, never.'

'Ah! it would have been a tale for poor Flora to have told you. Or,
if that hill were Benmore, and that long blue lake, which you see just
winding towards yon mountainous country, were Loch Tay, or my own Loch
an Ri, the tale would be better suited with scenery. However, let us sit
down on this knell; even Saddleback and Ullswater will suit what I have
to say better than the English hedgerows, enclosures, and farm-houses.
You must know, then, that when my ancestor, Ian nan Chaistel, wasted
Northumberland, there was associated with him in the expedition a sort
of Southland Chief, or captain of a band of Low-landers, called Halbert
Hall. In their return through the Cheviots, they quarrelled about the
division of the great booty they had acquired, and came from words to
blows. The Lowlanders were cut off to a man, and their chief fell the
last, covered with wounds by the sword of my ancestor, Since that time,
his spirit has crossed the Vich Ian Vohr of the day when any great
disaster was impending, but especially before approaching death. My
father saw him twice; once before he was made prisoner at Sheriff-Muir;
another time, on the morning of the day on which he died.'

'How can you, my dear Fergus, tell such nonsense with a grave face?'

'I do not ask you to believe it; but I tell you the truth, ascertained
by three hundred years' experience at least, and last night by my own
eyes.'

'The particulars, for Heaven's sake!' said Waverley, with eagerness.

'I will, on condition you will not attempt a jest on the subject.--Since
this unhappy retreat commenced, I have scarce ever been able to sleep
for thinking of my clan, and of this poor Prince, whom they are leading
back like a dog in a string, whether he will or no, and of the downfall
of my family. Last night I felt so feverish that I left my quarters, and
walked out, in hopes the keen frosty air would brace my nerves--I cannot
tell how much I dislike going on, for I know you will hardly believe me.
However--I crossed a small footbridge, and kept walking backwards and
forwards, when I observed with surprise, by the clear moonlight, a tall
figure in a grey plaid, such as shepherds wear in the south of Scotland,
which, move at what pace I would, kept regularly about four yards before
me.'

'You saw a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary dress, probably.'

'No: I thought so at first, and was astonished at the man's audacity
in daring to dog me. I called to him but received no answer. I felt an
anxious throbbing at my heart; and to ascertain what I dreaded, I stood
still, and turned myself on the same spot successively to the four
points of the compass--By Heaven, Edward, turn where I would, the figure
was instantly before my eyes, at precisely the same distance! I was then
convinced it was the Bodach Glas. My hair bristled, and my knees shook.
I manned myself, however, and determined to return to my quarters. My
ghastly visitant glided before me (for I cannot say he walked), until he
reached the footbridge: there he stopped, and turned full round. I must
either wade the river, or pass him as close as I am to you. A desperate
courage, founded on the belief that my death was near, made me resolve
to make my way in despite of him. I made the sign of the cross, drew my
sword, and uttered, "In the name of God, Evil Spirit, give place!" "Vich
Ian Vohr," it said, in a voice that made my very blood curdle, "beware
of to-morrow!" It seemed at that moment not half a yard from my sword's
point; but the words were no sooner spoken than it was gone, and nothing
appeared further to obstruct my passage. I got home, and threw myself on
my bed, where I spent a few hours heavily enough; and this morning, as
no enemy was reported to be near us, I took my horse, and rode forward
to make up matters with you. I would not willingly fall until I am in
charity with a wronged friend.'

Edward had little doubt that this phantom was the operation of an
exhausted frame and depressed spirits, working on the belief common to
all Highlanders in such superstitions. He did not the less pity Fergus,
for whom, in his present distress, he felt all his former regard revive.
With the view of diverting his mind from these gloomy images, he offered
with the Baron's permission, which he knew he could readily obtain, to
remain in his quarters till Fergus's corps should come up, and then to
march with them as usual. The Chief seemed much pleased, yet hesitated
to accept the offer.

'We are, you know, in the rear,--the post of danger in a retreat.'

'And therefore the post of honour.'

'Well,' replied the Chieftain, 'let Alick have your horse in readiness,
in case we should be over-matched, and I shall be delighted to have your
company once more.'

The rearguard were late in making their appearance, having been delayed
by various accidents and by the badness of the roads. At length they
entered the hamlet. When Waverley joined the clan Mac-Ivor, arm in arm
with their Chieftain, all the resentment they had entertained against
him seemed blown off at once. Evan Dhu received him with a grin of
congratulation; and even Callum, who was running about as active
as ever, pale indeed, and with a great patch on his head, appeared
delighted to see him.

'That gallows-bird's skull,' said Fergus, 'must be harder than marble:
the lock of the pistol was actually broken.'

'How could you strike so young a lad so hard?' said Waverley, with some
interest.

'Why, if I did not strike hard sometimes, the rascals would forget
themselves.'

They were now in full march, every caution being taken to prevent
surprise. Fergus's people, and a fine clan regiment from Badenoch,
commanded by Cluny Mac-Pherson, had the rear. They had passed a large
open moor, and were entering into the enclosures which surround a small
village called Clifton. The winter sun had set, and Edward began to
rally Fergus upon the false predictions of the Grey Spirit. 'The Ides of
March are not past,' said Mac-Ivor, with a smile; when, suddenly casting
his eyes back on the moor, a large body of cavalry was indistinctly seen
to hover upon its brown and dark surface. To line the enclosures facing
the open ground, and the road by which the enemy must move from it upon
the village, was the work of a short time. While these manoeuvres were
accomplishing, night sunk down, dark and gloomy, though the moon was
at full. Sometimes, however, she gleamed forth a dubious light upon the
scene of action.

The Highlanders did not remain long undisturbed in the defensive
position they had adopted. Favoured by the night, one large body of
dismounted dragoons attempted to force the enclosures, while another,
equally strong, strove to penetrate by the high road. Both were received
by such a heavy fire as disconcerted their ranks, and effectually
checked their progress. Unsatisfied with the advantage thus gained,
Fergus, to whose ardent spirit the approach of danger seemed to restore
all ifs elasticity, drawing his sword, and calling out 'Claymore!'
encouraged his men, by voice and example, to break through the hedge
which divided them, and rush down upon the enemy. Mingling with the
dismounted dragoons, they forced them, at the sword-point, to fly to the
open moor, where a considerable number were cut to pieces. But the moon,
which suddenly shone out, showed to the English the small number of
assailants, disordered by their own success. Two squadrons of horse
moving to the support of their companions, the Highlanders endeavoured
to recover the enclosures. But several of them, amongst others their
brave Chieftain, were cut off and surrounded before they could effect
their purpose. Waverley, looking eagerly for Fergus, from whom, as well
as from the retreating body of his followers, he had been separated in
the darkness and tumult, saw him, with Evan Dhu and Callum, defending
themselves desperately against a dozen of horsemen, who were hewing
at them with their long broadswords. The moon was again at that moment
totally overclouded, and Edward, in the obscurity, could neither bring
aid to his friends, nor discover which way lay his own road to rejoin
the rear-guard. After once or twice narrowly escaping being slain or
made prisoner by parties of the cavalry whom he encountered in the
darkness, he at length reached an enclosure, and clambering over it,
concluded himself in safety, and on the way to the Highland forces,
whose pipes he heard at some distance. For Fergus hardly a hope
remained, unless that he might be made prisoner. Revolving his fate
with sorrow and anxiety, the superstition of the Bodach Glas recurred to
Edward's recollection, and he said to himself, with internal surprise,
'What, can the devil speak truth?' [See Note 32.]



CHAPTER LX

CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS

Edward was in a most unpleasant and dangerous situation. He soon lost
the sound of the bagpipes; and, what was yet more unpleasant, when,
after searching long in vain, and scrambling through many enclosures, he
at length approached the high road, he learned, from the unwelcome noise
of kettledrums and trumpets, that the English cavalry now occupied
it, and consequently were between him and the Highlanders. Precluded,
therefore, from advancing in a straight direction, he resolved to avoid
the English military, and endeavour to join his friends by making a
circuit to the left, for which a beaten path deviating from the main
road in that direction seemed to afford facilities. The path was muddy,
and the night dark and cold; but even these inconveniences were hardly
felt amidst the apprehensions which falling into the hands of the King's
forces reasonably excited in his bosom.

After walking about three miles, he at length reached a hamlet.
Conscious that the common people were in general unfavourable to the
cause he had espoused, yet desirous, if possible, to procure a horse and
guide to Penrith, where he hoped to find the rear, if not the main body,
of the Chevalier's army, he approached the ale-house of the place. There
was a great noise within: he paused to listen. A round English oath or
two, and the burden of a campaign song, convinced him the hamlet also
was occupied by the Duke of Cumberland's soldiers. Endeavouring to
retire from it as softly as possible, and blessing the obscurity which
hitherto he had murmured against, Waverley groped his way the best he
could along a small paling, which seemed the boundary of some
cottage garden. As he reached the gate of this little enclosure, his
outstretched hand was grasped by that of a female, whose voice at the
same time uttered, 'Edward, is't thou, man?'

'Here is some unlucky mistake,' thought Edward, struggling, but gently,
to disengage himself.

'Naen o' thy foun, now; man, or the red cwoats will hear thee; they hae
been houlerying and poulerying every ane that past alehouse door
this noight to make them drive their wagons and sick loike. Come into
feyther's, or they'll do ho a mischief.'

'A good hint,' thought Waverley, following the girl through the little
garden into a brick-paved kitchen, where she set herself to kindle a
match at an expiring fire, and with the match to light a candle. She
had no sooner looked on Edward than she dropped the light, with a shrill
scream of 'O feyther! feyther!'

The father, thus invoked, speedily appeared, a sturdy old farmer, in a
pair of leather breeches, and boots pulled on without stockings,
having just started from his bed;--the rest of his dress was only a
Westmoreland statesman's robe-de-chambre,--that is, his shirt. His
figure was displayed to advantage, by a candle which he bore in his left
hand; in his right he brandished a poker.

What hast ho here, wench?'

'Oh!' cried the poor girl, almost going off in hysterics, I thought it
was Ned Williams, and it is one of the plaid-men!'

'And what was thee ganging to do wi' Ned Williams at this time o'
noight?' To this, which was, perhaps, one of the numerous class of
questions more easily asked than answered, the rosy-cheeked damsel made
no reply, but continued sobbing and wringing her hands.

'And thee, lad, dost ho know that the dragoons be a town? Dost ho know
that, mon?--ad, they'll sliver thee like a turnip, mon.'

'I know my life is in great danger,' said Waverley, 'but if you can
assist me, I will reward you handsomely, I am no Scotchman, but an
unfortunate English gentleman.'

'Be ho Scot or no,' said the honest farmer, 'I wish thou hadst kept the
other side of the hallan. But since thou art here, Jacob Jopson will
betray no man's bluid; and the plaids were gay canny, and did not
so much mischief when they were here yesterday.' Accordingly, he set
seriously about sheltering and refreshing our hero for the night, The
fire was speedily rekindled, but with precaution against its light being
seen from without. The jolly yeoman cut a rasher of bacon, which Cicely
soon broiled, and her father added a swingeing tankard of his best ale.
It was settled, that Edward should remain there till the troops marched
in the morning, then hire or buy a horse from the farmer, and, with
the best directions that could be obtained, endeavour to overtake his
friends. A clean, though coarse bed, received him after the fatigues of
this unhappy day.

With the morning arrived the news that the Highlanders had evacuated
Penrith, and marched off towards Carlisle; that the Duke of Cumberland
was in possession of Penrith, and that detachments of his army covered
the roads in every direction. To attempt to get through undiscovered,
would be an act of the most frantic temerity. Ned Williams (the right
Edward) was now called to council by Cicely and her father, Ned, who
perhaps did not care that his handsome namesake should remain too long
in the same house with his sweetheart, for fear of fresh mistakes,
proposed that Waverley, exchanging his uniform and plaid for the dress
of the country, should go with him to his father's farm near Ullswater,
and remain in that undisturbed retirement until the military movements
in the country should have ceased to render his departure hazardous.
A price was also agreed upon, at which the stranger might board with
Farmer Williams, if he thought proper, till he could depart with safety.
It was of moderate amount; the distress of his situation, among this
honest and simple-hearted race, being considered as no reason for
increasing their demand.

The necessary articles of dress were accordingly procured; and, by
following by-paths, known to the young farmer, they hoped to escape any
unpleasant rencontre, A recompense for their hospitality was refused
peremptorily by old Jopson and his cherry-cheeked daughter; a kiss paid
the one, and a hearty shake of the hand the other. Both seemed anxious
for their guest's safety, and took leave of him with kind wishes,

In the course of their route, Edward, with his guide, traversed those
fields which the night before had been the scene of action. A brief
gleam of December's sun shone sadly on the broad heath, which, towards
the spot where the great north-west road entered the enclosures of Lord
Lonsdale's property, exhibited dead bodies of men and horses, and the
usual companions of war--a number of carrion-crows, hawks, and ravens.

'And this, then, was thy last field,' said Waverley to himself, his
eye filling at the recollection of the many splendid points of
Fergus's character, and of their former intimacy, all his passions
and imperfections forgotten.--'Here fell the last Vich Ian Vohr, on
a nameless heath; and in an obscure night-skirmish was quenched that
ardent spirit, who thought it little to cut a way for his master to the
British throne! Ambition, policy, bravery, all far beyond their sphere,
here learned the fate of mortals, The sole support, too, of a sister,
whose spirit, as proud and unbending, was even more exalted than thine
own; here ended all thy hopes for Flora, and the long and valued line
which it was thy boast to raise yet more highly by thy adventurous
valour!'

As these ideas pressed on Waverley's mind, he resolved to go upon the
open heath, and search if, among the slain, he could discover the body
of his friend, with the pious intention of procuring for him the
last rites of sepulture. The timorous young man who accompanied him
remonstrated upon the danger of the attempt, but Edward was determined.
The followers of the camp had already stripped the dead of all they
could carry away; but the country people, unused to scenes of blood,
had not yet approached the field of action, though some stood fearfully
gazing at a distance. About sixty or seventy dragoons lay slain within
the first enclosure, upon the high road, and on the open moor. Of the
Highlanders, not above a dozen had fallen, chiefly those who, venturing
too far on the moor, could not regain the strong ground. He could not
find the body of Fergus among the slain. On a little knell, separated
from the others, lay the carcasses of three English dragoons, two
horses, and the page Callum Beg, whose hard skull a trooper's broadsword
had, at length, effectually cloven. It was possible his clan had
carried off the body of Fergus; but it was also possible he had escaped,
especially as Evan Dhu, who would never leave his Chief, was not
found among the dead; or he might be prisoner, and the less formidable
denunciation inferred from the appearance of the Bodach Glas might have
proved the true one. The approach of a party, sent for the purpose of
compelling the country people to bury the dead, and who had already
assembled several peasants for that purpose, now obliged Edward to
rejoin his guide, who awaited him in great anxiety and fear under shade
of the plantations.

After leaving this field of death, the rest of their journey was happily
accomplished. At the house of Farmer Williams, Edward passed for a young
kinsman, educated for the church, who was come to reside there till the
civil tumults permitted him to pass through the country. This silenced
suspicion among the kind and simple yeomanry of Cumberland, and
accounted sufficiently for the grave manners and retired habits of
the new guest, The precaution became more necessary than Waverley had
anticipated, as a variety of incidents prolonged his stay at Fasthwaite,
as the farm was called.

A tremendous fall of snow rendered his departure impossible for more
than ten days. When the roads began to become a little practicable,
they successively received news of the retreat of the Chevalier into
Scotland; then, that he had abandoned the frontiers, retiring upon
Glasgow; and that the Duke of Cumberland had formed the siege of
Carlisle. His army, therefore, cut off all possibility of Waverley's
escaping into Scotland in that direction. On the eastern border, Marshal
Wade, with a large force, was advancing upon Edinburgh; and all along
the frontier, parties of militia, volunteers, and partisans, were in
arms to suppress insurrection, and apprehend such stragglers from the
Highland army as had been left in England, The surrender of Carlisle,
and the severity with which the rebel garrison were threatened, soon
formed an additional reason against venturing upon a solitary and
hopeless journey through a hostile country and a large army, to carry
the assistance of a single sword to a cause which seemed altogether
desperate.

In this lonely and secluded situation, without the advantage of company
or conversation with men of cultivated minds, the arguments of Colonel
Talbot often recurred to the mind of our hero. A still more anxious
recollection haunted his slumbers--it was the dying look and gesture
of Colonel Gardiner. Most devoutly did he hope, as the rarely occurring
post brought news of skirmishes with various success, that it might
never again be his lot to draw his sword in civil conflict. Then his
mind turned to the supposed death of Fergus, to the desolate situation
of Flora, and, with yet more tender recollection, to that of Rose
Bradwardine, who was destitute of the devoted enthusiasm of loyalty,
which, to her friend, hallowed and exalted misfortune. These reveries he
was permitted to enjoy, undisturbed by queries or interruption;--and it
was in many a winter walk by the shores of Ullswater, that he acquired
a more complete mastery of a spirit tamed by adversity than his former
experience had given him; and that he felt himself entitled to say
firmly, though perhaps with a sigh, that the romance of his life was
ended, and that its real history had now commenced. He was soon called
upon to justify his pretensions by reason and philosophy.



CHAPTER LXI

A JOURNEY TO LONDON

The family at Fasthwaite were soon attached to Edward. He had,
indeed, that gentleness and urbanity which almost universally attracts
corresponding kindness; and to their simple ideas his learning gave him
consequence, and his sorrows interest. The last he ascribed, evasively,
to the loss of a brother in the skirmish near Clifton; and in that
primitive state of society, where the ties of affection were highly
deemed of, his continued depression excited sympathy, but not surprise.

In the end of January, his more lively powers were called out by the
happy union of Edward Williams, the son of his host, with Cicely Jopson.
Our hero would not cloud with sorrow the festivity attending the wedding
of two persons to whom he was so highly obliged. He therefore exerted
himself, danced, sang, played at the various games of the day, and was
the blithest of the company. The next morning, however, he had more
serious matters to think of.

The clergyman who had married the young couple was so much pleased with
the supposed student of divinity, that he came next day from Penrith on
purpose to pay him a visit. This might have been a puzzling chapter
had he entered into any examination of our hero's supposed theological
studies; but fortunately he loved better to hear and communicate the
news of the day. He brought with him two or three old newspapers, in
one of which Edward found a piece of intelligence that soon rendered him
deaf to every word which the Reverend Mr. Twigtythe was saying upon the
news from the north, and the prospect of the Duke's speedily overtaking
and crushing the rebels. This was an article in these, or nearly these
words:

'Died at his house, in Hill street, Berkeley Square, upon the 10th
inst., Richard Waverley, Esq., second son of Sir Giles Waverley of
Waverley-Honour, &c. &c. He died of a lingering disorder, augmented by
the unpleasant predicament of suspicion in which he stood, having been
obliged to find bail to a high amount, to meet an impending accusation
of high-treason. An accusation of the same grave crime hangs over his
elder brother, Sir Everard Waverley, the representative of that ancient
family; and we understand the day of his trial will be fixed early in
the next month, unless Edward Waverley, son of the deceased Richard, and
heir to the Baronet, shall surrender himself to justice. In that case,
we are assured it is his Majesty's gracious purpose to drop further
proceedings upon the charge against Sir Everard. This unfortunate
young gentleman is ascertained to have been in arms in the Pretender's
service, and to have marched along with the Highland troops into
England. But he has not been heard of since the skirmish at Clifton, on
the 18th December last.'

Such was this distracting paragraph.--'Good God!' exclaimed Waverley,
'am I then a parricide?--Impossible! My father, who never showed the
affection of a father while he lived, cannot have been so much affected
by my supposed death as to hasten his own. No, I will not believe
it,--it were distraction to entertain for a moment such a horrible idea.
But it were, if possible, worse than parricide to suffer any danger to
hang over my noble and generous uncle, who has ever been more to me than
a father, if such evil can be averted by any sacrifice on my part!'

While these reflections passed like the stings of scorpions through
Waverley's sensorium, the worthy divine was startled in a long
disquisition on the battle of Falkirk by the ghastliness which they
communicated to his looks, and asked him if he was ill. Fortunately the
bride, all smirk and blush, had just entered the room. Mrs. Williams was
none of the brightest of women, but she was good-natured, and readily
concluding that Edward had been shocked by disagreeable news in the
papers, interfered so judiciously, that, without exciting suspicion, she
drew off Mr. Twigtythe's attention, and engaged it until he soon after
took his leave. Waverley then explained to his friends, that he was
under the necessity of going to London with as little delay as possible.

One cause of delay, however, did occur, to which Waverley had been very
little accustomed. His purse, though well stocked when he first went to
Tully-Veolan, had not been reinforced since that period; and although
his life since had not been of a nature to exhaust it hastily (for he
had lived chiefly with his friends or with the army), yet he found,
that, after settling with his kind landlord, he should be too poor to
encounter the expense of travelling post. The best course, therefore,
seemed to be, to get into the great north road about Boroughbridge, and
there take a place in the Northern Diligence,--a huge old-fashioned tub,
drawn by three horses, which completed the journey from Edinburgh to
London (God willing, as the advertisement expressed it) in three weeks.
Our hero, therefore, took an affectionate farewell of his Cumberland
friends, whose kindness he promised never to forget, and tacitly hoped
one day to acknowledge by substantial proofs of gratitude. After some
petty difficulties and vexatious delays, and after putting his dress
into a shape better befitting his rank, though perfectly plain and
simple, he accomplished crossing the country, and found himself in
the desired vehicle, VIS-A-VIS to Mrs. Nosebag, the lady of Lieutenant
Nosebag, adjutant and riding-master of the--dragoons, a jolly woman of
about fifty, wearing a blue habit, faced with scarlet, and grasping a
silver-mounted horsewhip.

This lady was one of those active members of society who take upon them
FAIRE LE FRAIS DE CONVERSATION. She had just returned from the north,
and informed Edward how nearly her regiment had cut the petticoat people
into ribands at Falkirk, 'only somehow there was one of those nasty,
awkward marshes, that they are never without in Scotland, I think, and
so our poor dear little regiment suffered something, as my Nosebag says,
in that unsatisfactory affair. You, sir, have served in the dragoons?'
Waverley was taken so much at unawares, that he acquiesced.

'Oh, I knew it at once; I saw you were military from your air, and I was
sure you could be none of the foot-wobblers, as my Nosebag calls them.
What regiment, pray?' Here was a delightful question. Waverley, however,
justly concluded that this good lady had the whole army-list by heart;
and, to avoid detection by adhering to truth, answered--'Gardiner's
dragoons, ma'am; but I have retired some time.'

'Oh aye, those as won the race at the battle of Preston, as my Nosebag
says. Pray, sir, were you there?'

'I was so unfortunate, madam,' he replied, 'as to witness that
engagement.'

'And that was a misfortune that few of Gardiner's stood to witness, I
believe, sir--ha! ha! ha!--I beg your pardon; but a soldier's wife loves
a joke.'

'Devil confound you!' thought Waverley; 'what infernal luck has penned
me up with this inquisitive bag!'

Fortunately the good lady did not stick long to one subject. 'We are
coming to Ferrybridge, now,' she said, 'where there was a party of OURS
left to support the beadles, and constables, and justices, and these
sort of creatures that are examining papers and stopping rebels, and all
that.' They were hardly in the inn before she dragged Waverley to the
window, exclaiming, 'Yonder comes Corporal Bridoon, of our poor dear
troop; he's coming with the constable man: Bridoon's one of my lambs, as
Nosebag calls 'em. Come, Mr.--a--a--pray, what 's your name, sir?'

'Butler, ma'am,' said Waverley, resolved rather to make free with the
name of a former fellow officer, than run the risk of detection by
inventing one not to be found in the regiment.

'Oh, you got a troop lately, when that shabby fellow, Waverley, went
over to the rebels. Lord, I wish our old cross Captain Crump would go
over to the rebels, that Nosebag might get the troop!--Lord, what can
Bridoon be standing swinging on the bridge for? I'll be hanged if he
a'nt hazy, as Nosebag says.--Come, sir, as you and I belong to the
service, we'll go put the rascal in mind of his duty.'

Waverley, with feelings more easily conceived than described, saw
himself obliged to follow this doughty female commander. The gallant
trooper was as like a lamb as a drunk corporal of dragoons, about six
feet high, with very broad shoulders, and very thin legs, not to mention
a great scar across his nose, could well be. Mrs. Nosebag addressed
him with something which, if not an oath, sounded very like one, and
commanded him to attend to his duty. 'You be d--d for a--,' commenced
the gallant cavalier; but, looking up in order to suit the action to
the words, and also to enforce the epithet which he meditated, with an
adjective applicable to the party, he recognized the speaker, made his
military salaam, and altered his tone.--'Lord love your handsome face,
Madam Nosebag, is it you? Why, if a poor fellow does happen to fire a
slug of a morning, I am sure you were never the lady to bring him to
harm.'

'Well, you rascallion, go, mind your duty; this gentleman and I belong
to the service; but be sure you look after that shy cock in the slouched
hat that sits in the corner of the coach. I believe he's one of the
rebels in disguise.'

'D--n her gooseberry wig!' said the corporal, when she was out of
hearing. 'That gimlet-eyed jade--mother adjutant, as we call her--is a
greater plague to the regiment than prevot-marshal, sergeant-major,
and old Hubble-de-Shuff the colonel into the bargain.--Come, Master
Constable, let's see if this shy cock, as she calls him' (who, by the
way, was a Quaker from Leeds, with whom Mrs. Nosebag had had some tart
argument on the legality of bearing arms), 'will stand godfather to a
sup of brandy, for your Yorkshire ale is cold on my stomach.'

The vivacity of this good lady, as it helped Edward out of this scrape,
was like to have drawn him into one or two others. In every town where
they stopped, she wished to examine the CORPS DE GARDE, if there
was one, and once very narrowly missed introducing Waverley to a
recruiting-sergeant of his own regiment. Then she Captain'd and Butler'd
him till he was almost mad with vexation and anxiety; and never was he
more rejoiced in his life at the termination of a journey, than when the
arrival of the coach in London freed him from the attentions of Madam
Nosebag.



CHAPTER LXII

WHAT'S TO BE DONE NEXT?

It was twilight when they arrived in town; and having shaken off
his companions, and walked through a good many streets to avoid the
possibility of being traced by them, Edward took a hackney-coach and
drove to Colonel Talbot's house, in one of the principal squares at the
west end of the town. That gentleman, by the death of relations, had
succeeded since his marriage to a large fortune, possessed considerable
political interest, and lived in what is called great style.

When Waverley knocked at his door, he found it at first difficult to
procure admittance, but at length was shown into an apartment where the
Colonel was at table. Lady Emily, whose very beautiful features were
still pallid from indisposition, sat opposite to him. The instant he
heard Waverley's voice, he started up and embraced him. 'Frank Stanley,
my dear boy, how d'ye do?--Emily, my love, this is young Stanley.'

The blood started to the lady's cheek as she gave Waverley a reception,
in which courtesy was mingled with kindness, while her trembling hand
and faltering voice showed how much she was startled and discomposed.
Dinner was hastily replaced, and while Waverley was engaged in
refreshing himself, the Colonel proceeded--'I wonder you have come
here, Frank; the doctors tell me the air of London is very bad for your
complaints. You should not have risked it. But I am delighted to see
you, and so is Emily, though I fear we must not reckon upon your staying
long.'

'Some particular business brought me up,' muttered Waverley.

'I supposed so, but I sha'n't allow you to stay long.--Spontoon' (to
an elderly military-looking servant out of livery), 'take away these
things, and answer the bell yourself, if I ring. Don't let any of the
other fellows disturb us.--My nephew and I have business to talk of.'

When the servants had retired, 'In the name of God, Waverley, what has
brought you here? It may be as much as your life is worth.'

'Dear Mr. Waverley,' said Lady Emily,' to whom I owe so much more than
acknowledgements can ever pity, how could you be so rash?'

'My father--my uncle--this paragraph,'--he handed the paper to Colonel
Talbot.

'I wish to Heaven' these scoundrels were condemned to be squeezed to
death in their own presses,' said Talbot. 'I am told there are not less
than a dozen of their papers now published in town, and no wonder that
they are obliged to invent lies to find sale for their journals. It is
true, however, my dear Edward, that you have lost your father; but as
to this flourish of his unpleasant situation having grated upon his
spirits, and hurt his health--the truth is--for though it is harsh
to say so now, yet it will relieve your mind from the idea of weighty
responsibility--the truth then is, that Mr. Richard Waverley, through
this whole business, showed great want of sensibility, both to your
situation and that of your uncle; and the last time I saw him, he told
me, with great glee, that, as I was so good as to take charge of your
interests, he had thought it best to patch up a separate negotiation for
himself, and make his peace with Government through some channels which
former connexions left still open to him.'

'And my uncle--my dear uncle?'

'Is in no danger whatever. It is true' (looking at the date of the
paper) 'there was a foolish report some time ago to the purport
here quoted, but it is entirely false. Sir Everard is gone down to
Waverley-Honour, freed from all uneasiness, unless upon your own
account. But you are in peril yourself--your name is in every
proclamation--warrants are out to apprehend you. How and when did you
come here?'

Edward told his story at length, suppressing his quarrel with Fergus;
for being himself partial to Highlanders, he did not wish to give any
advantage to the Colonel's national prejudice against them.

'Are you sure it was your friend Glen's footboy you saw dead in Clifton
Moor?'

'Quite positive.'

'Then that little limb of the devil has cheated the gallows, for
cut-throat was written in his face; though' (turning to Lady Emily) 'it
was a very handsome face too.--But for you, Edward, I wish you would go
down again to Cumberland, or rather I wish you had never stirred from
thence, for there is an embargo on all the seaports, and a strict search
for the adherents of the Pretender; and the tongue of that confounded
woman will wag in her head like the clack of a mill, till somehow or
other she will detect Captain Butler to be a feigned personage,'

'Do you know anything,' asked Waverley, 'of my fellow traveller?'

'Her husband was my sergeant-major for six years; she was a buxom widow,
with a little money--he married her--was steady, and got on by being a
good drill. I must send Spontoon to see what she is about; he will
find her out among the old regimental connexions. To-morrow you must be
indisposed, and keep your room from fatigue. Lady Emily is to be your
nurse, and Spontoon and I your attendants. You bear the name of a
near relation of mine, whom none of my present people ever saw, except
Spontoon; so there will be no immediate danger. So pray feel your head
ache and your eyes grow heavy as soon as possible, that you may be put
upon the sick list; and, Emily, do you order an apartment for Frank
Stanley, with all the attention which an invalid may require.'

In the morning the Colonel visited his guest.--'Now,' said he, 'I have
some good news for you. Your reputation as a gentleman and officer is
effectually cleared of neglect of duty, and accession to the mutiny in
Gardiner's regiment. I have had a correspondence on this subject with
a very zealous friend of yours, your Scottish parson, Morton; his first
letter was addressed to Sir Everard; but I relieved the good Baronet
of the trouble of answering it. You must know, that your freebooting
acquaintance; Donald of the Cave, has at length fallen into the hands of
the Philistines. He was driving off the cattle of a certain proprietor,
called Killan--something or other--'

'Killancureit?'

'The same. Now, the gentleman being, it seems, a great farmer, and
having a special value for his breed of cattle--being, moreover, rather
of a timid disposition, had got a party of soldiers to protect his
property. So Donald ran his head unawares into the lion's mouth, and was
defeated and made prisoner. Being ordered for execution, his conscience
was assailed on the one hand by a Catholic priest,--on the other by
your friend Morton. He repulsed the Catholic chiefly on account of the
doctrine of extreme unction, which this economical gentleman considered
as an excessive waste of oil. So his conversion from a state of
impenitence fell to Mr. Morton's share, who, I dare say, acquitted
himself excellently, though, I suppose, Donald made but a queer kind
of Christian after all. He confessed, however, before a magistrate--one
Major Melville, who seems to have been a correct, friendly sort of
person--his full intrigue with Houghton, explaining particularly how it
was carried on, and fully acquitting you of the least accession to
it. He also mentioned his rescuing you from the hands of the volunteer
officer, and sending you, by orders of the Pret--Chevalier, I mean as a
prisoner to Doune, from whence he understood you were carried prisoner
to Edinburgh. These are particulars which cannot but tell in your
favour. He hinted that he had been employed to deliver and protect you,
and rewarded for doing so; but he would not confess by whom, alleging,
that, though he would not have minded breaking any ordinary oath to
satisfy the curiosity of Mr. Morton, to whose pious admonitions he owed
so much, yet in the present case he had been sworn to silence upon the
edge of his dirk, [See Note 33.] which, it seems, constituted, in his
opinion, an inviolable obligation.'

'And what has become of him?'

'Oh, he was hanged at Stirling after the rebels raised the siege, with
his lieutenant, and four plaids besides; he having the advantage of a
gallows more lofty than his friends.'

'Well, I have little cause either to regret or rejoice at his death; and
yet he has done me both good and harm to a very considerable extent.'

His confession, at least, will serve you materially, since it wipes from
your character all those suspicions which gave the accusation against
you a complexion of a nature different from that with which so many
unfortunate gentlemen, now or lately in arms against the Government, may
be justly charged. Their treason--I must give it its name, though you
participate in its guilt--is an action arising from mistaken virtue, and
therefore cannot be classed as a disgrace, though it be doubtless highly
criminal. Where the guilty are so numerous, clemency must be extended to
far the greater number; and I have little doubt of procuring a remission
for you, provided we can keep you out of the claws of justice till
she has selected and gorged upon her victims; for in this, as in other
cases, it will be according to the vulgar proverb, 'First come, first
served.' Besides, Government are desirous at present to intimidate the
English Jacobites, among whom they can find few examples for punishment.
This is a vindictive and timid feeling which will soon wear off, for, of
all nations, the English are least bloodthirsty by nature. But it
exists at present, and you must therefore be kept out of the way in the
meantime.'

Now entered Spontoon with an anxious countenance. By his regimental
acquaintances he had traced out Madam Nosebag, and found her full of
ire, fuss, and fidget, at discovery of an impostor, who had travelled
from the north with her under the assumed name of Captain Butler of
Gardiner's dragoons. She was going to lodge an information on the
subject, to have him sought for as an emissary of the Pretender; but
Spontoon (an old soldier), while he pretended to approve, contrived
to make her delay her intention. No time, however, was to be lost: the
accuracy of this good dame's description might probably lead to
the discovery that Waverley was the pretended Captain Butler; an
identification fraught with danger to Edward, perhaps to his uncle,
and even to Colonel Talbot. Which way to direct his course was now,
therefore, the question.

'To Scotland,' said Waverley.

'To Scotland!' said the Colonel; 'with what purpose?--not to engage
again with the rebels, I hope?'

'No--I considered my campaign ended, when, after all my efforts, I
could not rejoin them; and now, by all accounts, they are gone to make
a winter campaign in the Highlands, where such adherents as I am would
rather be burdensome than useful. Indeed, it seems likely that they only
prolong the war to place the Chevalier's person out of danger, and then
to make some terms for themselves. To burden them with my presence would
merely add another party, whom they would not give up, and could not
defend. I understand they left almost all their English adherents in
garrison at Carlisle, for that very reason: and on a more general view,
Colonel, to confess the truth, though it may lower me in your opinion,
I am heartily tired of the trade of war, and am, as Fletcher's Humorous
Lieutenant says, "even as weary of this fighting"--'

'Fighting! pooh, what have you seen but a skirmish or two?-Ah! if you
saw war on the grand scale--sixty or a hundred thousand men in the field
on each side!'

'I am not at all curious, Colonel.--"Enough," says our homely proverb,
"is as good as a feast." The plumed troops and the big war used to
enchant me in poetry; but the night marches, vigils, couched under the
wintry sky, and such accompaniments of the glorious trade, are not
at all to my taste in practice:--then for dry blows, I had my fill of
fighting at Clifton, where I escaped by a hair's-breadth half a dozen
times; and you, I should think--' He stopped.

'Had enough of it at Preston? you mean to say,' answered the Colonel,
laughing; 'but, "'tis my vocation, Hal."'

'It is not mine, though,' said Waverley; 'and having honourably got rid
of the sword, which I drew only as a volunteer, I am quite satisfied
with my military experience, and shall be in no hurry to take it up
again.'

'I am very glad you are of that mind--but then, what would you do in the
North?'

'In the first place, there are some seaports on the eastern coast of
Scotland still in the hands of the Chevalier's friends; should I gain
any of them, I can easily embark for the Continent.'

'Good--your second reason?'

'Why, to speak the very truth, there is a person in Scotland upon whom
I now find my happiness, depends more than I was always aware, and about
whose situation I am very anxious.'

'Then Emily was right, and there is a love affair in the case after
all?--And which of these two pretty Scotchwomen, whom you insisted upon
my admiring, is the distinguished fair?--not Miss Glen--I hope.'

'No.'

'Ah, pass for the other: simplicity may be improved, but pride and
conceit never. Well, I don't discourage you; I think it will please Sir
Everard, from what he said when I jested with him about it; only I hope
that intolerable papa, with his brogue, and his snuff, and his Latin,
and his insufferable long stories about the Duke of Berwick, will find
it necessary hereafter to be an inhabitant of foreign parts. But as
to the daughter, though I think you might find as fitting a match in
England, yet if your heart be really set upon this Scotch rosebud, why,
the Baronet has a great opinion of her father and of his family, and he
wishes much to see you married and settled, both for your own sake and
for that of the three ermines passant, which may otherwise pass away
altogether. But I will bring you his mind fully upon the subject, since
you are debarred correspondence for the present, for I think you will
not be long in Scotland before me.

Indeed! and what can induce you to think of returning to Scotland?
No relenting longings towards the land of mountains and floods, I am
afraid.'

'None, on my word; but Emily's health is now, thank God, re-established,
and, to tell you the truth, I have little hopes of concluding the
business which I have at present most at heart, until I can have a
personal interview with his Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief; for,
as Fluellen says, "The duke doth love me well, and I thank Heaven I have
deserved some love at his hands." I am now going out for an hour or two
to arrange matters for your departure; your liberty extends to the
next room, Lady Emily's parlour, where you will find her when you are
disposed for music, reading, or conversation. We have taken measures to
exclude all servants but Spontoon, who is as true as steel.'

In about two hours Colonel Talbot returned, and found his young friend
conversing with his lady; she pleased with his manners and information,
and he delighted at being restored, though but for a moment, to the
society of his own rank, from which he had been for some time excluded.'

'And now,' said the Colonel, 'hear my arrangements, for there is little
time to lose. This youngster, Edward Waverley, ALIAS Williams, ALIAS
Captain Butler, must continue to pass by his fourth ALIAS of Francis
Stanley, my nephew: he shall set out to-morrow for the North, and the
chariot shall take him the first two stages.' Spontoon shall then attend
him; and they shall ride post as far as Huntingdon; and the presence
of Spontoon, well known on the road as my servant, will check all
disposition to inquiry. At Huntingdon you will meet the real Frank
Stanley. He is studying at Cambridge; but, a little while ago, doubtful
if Emily's health would permit me to go down to the North myself, I
procured him a passport from the Secretary of State's office to go in
my stead. As he went chiefly to look after you, his journey is now
unnecessary. He knows your story; you will dine together at Huntingdon;
and perhaps your wise heads may hit upon some plan for removing or
diminishing the danger of your further progress northward. And now'
(taking out a morocco case), 'let me put you in funds for the campaign.'

'I am ashamed, my dear Colonel,--'

'Nay,' said Colonel Talbot, 'you should command my purse in any event;
but this money is your own. Your father, considering the chance of your
being attainted, left me his trustee for your advantage. So that you are
worth above L15,000, besides Brerewood Lodge--a very independent person,
I promise you. There are bills here for L200; any larger sum you may
have, or credit abroad, as soon as your motions require it.'

The first use which occurred to Waverley of his newly-acquired wealth,
was to write to honest Farmer Jopson, requesting his acceptance of a
silver tankard on the part of his friend Williams, who had not forgotten
the night of the eighteenth December last. He begged him at the same
time carefully to preserve for him his Highland garb and accoutrements,
particularly the arms--curious in themselves, and to which the
friendship of the donors gave additional value. Lady Emily undertook to
find some suitable token of remembrance, likely to flatter the vanity
and please the taste of Mrs. Williams; and the Colonel, who was a kind
of farmer, promised to send the Ullswater patriarch an excellent team of
horses for cart and plough.

One happy day Waverley spent in London; and, travelling in the manner
projected, he met with Frank Stanley at Huntingdon. The two young men
were acquainted in a minute.

'I can read my uncle's riddle,' said Stanley. 'The cautious old soldier
did not care to hint to me that I might hand over to you this passport,
which I have no occasion for; but if it should afterwards come out as
the rattlepated trick of a young Cantab, CELA NE TIRE A RIEN. You are
therefore to be Francis Stanley, with this passport.' This proposal
appeared in effect to alleviate a great part of the difficulties which
Edward must otherwise have encountered at every turn; and accordingly
he scrupled not to avail himself of it, the more especially as he had
discarded all political purposes from his present journey, and could
not be accused of furthering machinations against the Government while
travelling under protection of the Secretary's passport.

The day passed merrily away. The young student was inquisitive about
Waverley's campaigns, and the manners of the Highlands; and Edward
was obliged to satisfy his curiosity by whistling a pibroch, dancing a
strathspey, and singing a Highland song. The next morning Stanley rode
a stage northward with his new friend, and parted from him with great
reluctance, upon the remonstrances of Spontoon, who, accustomed to
submit to discipline, was rigid in enforcing it.



CHAPTER LXIII

DESOLATION

Waverly riding post, as was the usual fashion of the period, without any
adventure save one or two queries, which the talisman of his passport
sufficiently answered, reached the borders of Scotland. Here he heard
the tidings of the decisive battle of Culloden. It was no more than he
had long expected, though the success at Falkirk had thrown a faint and
setting gleam over the arms of the Chevalier. Yet it came upon him like
a shock, by which he was for a time altogether unmanned. The generous,
the courteous, the noble-minded Adventurer, was then a fugitive, with
a price upon his head; his adherents, so brave, so enthusiastic, so
faithful, were dead, imprisoned, or exiled. Where, now, was the exalted
and high-souled Fergus, if, indeed, he had survived the night at
Clifton?--where the pure-hearted and primitive Baron of Bradwardine,
whose foibles seemed foils to set off the disinterestedness of his
disposition, the genuine goodness of his heart, and his unshaken
courage? Those who clung for support to these fallen columns, Rose and
Flora,--where were they to be sought, and in what distress must not the
loss of their natural protectors have involved them? Of Flora he thought
with the regard of a brother for a sister--of Rose, with a sensation yet
more deep and tender. It might be still his fate to supply the want
of those guardians they had lost. Agitated by these thoughts, he
precipitated his journey.

When he arrived in Edinburgh, where his inquiries must necessarily
commence, he felt the full difficulty of his situation. Many inhabitants
of that city had seen and known him as Edward Waverley; how, then,
could he avail himself of a passport as Francis Stanley? He resolved,
there-fore, to avoid all company, and to move northward as soon as
possible. He was, however, obliged to wait a day or two in expectation
of a letter from Colonel Talbot, and he was also to leave his own
address, under his feigned character, at a place agreed upon. With
this latter purpose he sallied out in the dusk through the well-known
streets, carefully shunning observation,--but in vain: one of the first
persons whom he met at once recognized him, It was Mrs. Flockhart,
Fergus Mac-Ivor's good-humoured landlady.

'Gude guide us, Mr. Waverley, is this you?--na, ye needna be feared for
me--I wad betray nae gentleman in your circumstances. Eh, lack-a-day!
lack-a-day! here's a change o' markets! how merry Colonel Mac-Ivor and
you used to be in our house!' And the good-natured widow shed a few
natural tears. As there was no resisting her claim of acquaintance,
Waverley acknowledged it with a good grace, as well as the danger of his
own situation. 'As it's near the darkening, sir, wad ye just step in by
to our house, and tak a dish o' tea? and I am sure, if ye like to sleep
in the little room, I wad tak care ye are no disturbed, and naebody wad
ken ye; for Kate and Matty, the limmers, gaed aff wi' twa o' Hawley's
dragoons, and I hae twa new queans instead o' them.'

Waverley accepted her invitation, and engaged her lodging for a night or
two, satisfied he should be safer in the house of this simple creature
than anywhere else. When he entered the parlour, his heart swelled to
see Fergus's bonnet, with the white cockade, hanging beside the little
mirror.

'Aye,' said Mrs. Flockhart, sighing, as she observed the direction of
his eyes, 'the puir Colonel bought a new ane just the day before they
marched, and I winna let them tak that ane doun, but just to brush it
ilka day mysell; and whiles I look at it till I just think I hear him
cry to Callum to bring him his bonnet, as he used to do when he was
ganging out.--It's unco silly--the neighbours ca' me a Jacobite--but
they may say their say--I am sure it's no for that--but he was as
kind-hearted a gentleman as ever lived, and as weel-fa'rd too. Oh, d'ye
ken, sir, when he is to suffer?'

'Suffer! Good heaven!--Why, where is he?'

'Eh, Lord's sake! d'ye no ken? The poor Hieland body, Dugald Mahoney,
cam here a while syne, wi' ane o' his arms cuttit off, and a sair
clour in the head--ye'll mind Dugald? he carried aye an axe on his
shouther--and he cam here just begging, as I may say, for something to
eat. Aweel, he tauld us the Chief, as they ca'd him (but I aye ca'
him the Colonel), and Ensign Maccombich, that ye mind weel, were ta'en
somewhere beside the English border, when it was sae dark that his folk
never missed him till it was ower late, and they were like to gang clean
daft. And he said that little Callum Beg (he was a bauld mischievous
callant that), and your honour, were killed that same night in the
tuilzie, and mony mae braw men. But he grat when he spak o' the Colonel,
ye never saw tie like. And now the word gangs, the Colonel is to be
tried, and to suffer wi' them that were ta'en at Carlisle.'

'And his sister?'

'Aye, that they ca'd the Lady Flora--weel, she's away up to Carlisle to
him, and lives wi' some grand Papist lady thereabouts, to be near him.'

'And,' said Edward, 'the other young lady?'

'Whilk other? I ken only of ae sister the Colonel had.'

'I mean Miss Bradwardine,' said Edward.

'Ou aye, the laird's daughter,' said his landlady. 'She was a very bonny
lassie, poor thing, but far shyer than Lady Flora.'

'Where is she, for God's sake?'

'Ou, wha kens where ony o' them is now? Puir things, they're sair ta'en
doun for their white cockades and their white roses; but she gaed north
to her father's in Perthshire, when the Government troops cam back to
Edinbro'. There was some pretty men amang them, and ane Major Whacker
was quartered on me, a very ceevil gentleman,--but oh, Mr. Waverley, he
was naething sae weel-fa'rd as the puir Colonel.'

'Do you know what is become of Miss Bradwardine's father?'

'The auld laird?--na, naebody kens that; but they say he fought
very hard in that bluidy battle at Inverness; and Deacon Clark, the
white-iron smith, says, that the Government folk are sair agane him
for having been OUT twice; and troth he might hae ta'en warning,--but
there's nae fule like an auld fule--the puir Colonel was only out ance.'

Such conversation contained almost all the good-natured widow knew of
the fate of her late lodgers and acquaintances; but it was enough to
determine Edward at all hazards to proceed instantly to Tully-Veolan,
where he concluded he should see, or at least hear, something of Rose.
He therefore left a letter for Colonel Talbot at the place agreed upon,
signed by his assumed name, and giving for his address the post-town
next to the Baron's residence.

From Edinburgh to Perth he took post-horses, resolving to make the rest
of his journey on foot--a mode of travelling to which he was partial,
and which had the advantage of permitting a deviation from the road when
he saw parties of military at a distance. His campaign had considerably
strengthened his constitution, and improved his habits of enduring
fatigue. His baggage he sent before him as opportunity occurred.

As he advanced northward, the traces of war became visible. Broken
carriages, dead horses, unroofed cottages, trees felled for palisades,
and bridges destroyed, or only partially repaired,--all indicated the
movements of hostile armies. In those places where the gentry were
attached to the Stuart cause, their houses seemed dismantled or
deserted, the usual course of what may be called ornamental labour was
totally interrupted, and the inhabitants were seen gliding about, with
fear, sorrow, and dejection on their faces.

It was evening when he approached the village of Tully-Veolan, with
feelings and sentiments--how different from those which attended
his first entrance! Then, life was so new to him, that a dull or
disagreeable day was one of the greatest misfortunes which his
imagination anticipated, and it seemed to him that his time ought only
to be consecrated to elegant or amusing study, and relieved by social
or youthful frolic. Now, how changed! how saddened, yet how elevated
was his character, within the course of a very few months! Danger and
misfortune are rapid, though severe teachers. 'A sadder and a wiser
man,' he felt, in internal confidence and mental dignity, a compensation
for the gay dreams which, in his case, experience had so rapidly
dissolved.

As he approached the village, he saw, with surprise and anxiety, that a
party of soldiers were quartered near it, and, what was worse, that they
seemed stationary there. This he conjectured from a few tents which he
beheld glimmering upon what was called the Common Moor. To avoid the
risk of being stopped and questioned in a place where he was so likely
to be recognized, he made a large circuit, altogether avoiding the
hamlet, and approaching the upper gate of the avenue by a by-path well
known to him. A single glance announced that great changes had taken
place. One half of the gate, entirely destroyed and split up for
firewood, lay in piles, ready to be taken away; the other swung
uselessly about upon its loosened hinges. The battlements above the gate
were broken and thrown down, and the carved Bears, which were said to
have done sentinel's duty upon the top for centuries, now, hurled from
their posts, lay among the rubbish. The avenue was cruelly wasted.
Several large trees were felled and left lying across the path; and the
cattle of the villagers, and the more rude hoofs of dragoon horses,
had poached into black mud the verdant turf which Waverley had so much
admired.

Upon entering the courtyard, Edward saw the fears realized which these
circumstances had excited. The place had been sacked by the King's
troops, who, in wanton mischief, had even attempted to burn it; and
though the thickness of the walls had resisted the fire, unless to a
partial extent, the stables and out-houses were totally consumed. The
towers and pinnacles of the main building were scorched and blackened;
the pavement of the court broken and shattered; the doors torn down
entirely, or hanging by a single hinge; the windows dashed in and
demolished; and the court strewed with articles of furniture broken into
fragments. The accessories of ancient distinction, to which the
Baron, in the pride of his heart, had attached so much importance and
veneration, were treated with peculiar contumely. The fountain was
demolished, and the spring which had supplied it now flooded the
courtyard. The stone basin seemed to be destined for a drinking-trough
for cattle, from the manner in which it was arranged upon the ground.
The whole tribe of Bears, large and small, had experienced as little
favour as those at the head of the avenue; and one or two of the family
pictures, which seemed to have served as targets for the soldiers, lay
on the ground in tatters. With an aching heart, as may well be imagined,
Edward viewed this wreck of a mansion so respected. But his anxiety to
learn the fate of the proprietors, and his fears as to what that fate
might be, increased with every step. When he entered upon the terrace,
new scenes of desolation were visible. The balustrade was broken
down, the walls destroyed, the borders overgrown with weeds, and
the fruit-trees cut down or grubbed up. In one compartment of this
old-fashioned garden were two immense horse-chestnut trees, of whose
size the Baron was particularly vain: too lazy, perhaps, to cut them
down, the spoilers, with malevolent ingenuity, had mined them, and
placed a quantity of gunpowder in the cavity. One had been shivered
to pieces by the explosion, and the fragments lay scattered around,
encumbering the ground it had so long shadowed. The other mine had been
more partial in its effect. About one-fourth of the trunk of the tree
was torn from the mass, which, mutilated and defaced on the one side,
still spread on the other its ample and undiminished boughs. [A pair of
chestnut trees, destroyed, the one entirely, and the other in part, by
such a mischievous and wanton act of revenge, grew at Invergarry Castle,
the fastness of Macdonald of Glengarry.]

Amid these general marks of ravage, there were some which more
particularly addressed the feelings of Waverley. Viewing the front of
the building, thus wasted and defaced, his eyes naturally sought the
little balcony which more properly belonged to Rose's apartment--her
TROISIEME, or rather CINQUIEME ETAGE. It was easily discovered, for
beneath it lay the stage-flowers and shrubs with which it was her pride
to decorate it, and which had been hurled from the bartizan: several of
her books were mingled with broken flower-pots and other remnants. Among
these, Waverley distinguished one of his own, a small copy of Ariosto,
and gathered it as a treasure, though wasted by the wind and rain.

While, plunged in the sad reflections which the scene excited, he
was looking around for some one who might explain the fate of the
inhabitants, he heard a voice from the interior of the building singing,
in well-remembered accents, an old Scottish song:

     They came upon us in the night,
     And brake my bower and slew my knight:
     My servants a' for life did flee,
     And left us in extremitie,

     They slew my knight, to me sae dear;
     They slew my knight, and drave his gear;
     The moon may set, the sun may rise,
     But a deadly sleep has closed his eyes.
     [The first three couplets are from an old ballad, called the
     Border Widow's Lament.]

'Alas!' thought Edward, 'is it thou? Poor helpless being, art thou alone
left, to gibber and moan, and fill with thy wild and unconnected scraps
of minstrelsy the halls that protected thee?'--He then called, first
low, and then louder, 'Davie--Davie Gellatley!'

The poor simpleton showed himself from among the ruins of a sort of
greenhouse, that once terminated what was called the Terrace-walk,
but at first sight of a stranger retreated, as if in terror. Waverley,
remembering his habits, began to whistle a tune to which he was partial,
which Davie had expressed great pleasure in listening to, and had picked
up from him by the ear. Our hero's minstrelsy no more equalled that of
Blondel, than poor Davie resembled Coeur de Lion; but the melody had
the same effect of producing recognition. Davie again stole from his
lurking-place, but timidly, while Waverley, afraid of frightening him,
stood making the most encouraging signals he could devise.--'It's his
ghaist,' muttered Davie; yet, coming nearer, he seemed to acknowledge
his living acquaintance. The poor fool himself appeared the ghost of
what he had been. The peculiar dress in which he had been attired in
better days, showed only miserable rags of its whimsical finery, the
lack of which was oddly supplied by the remnants of tapestried hangings,
window-curtains, and shreds of pictures, with which he had bedizened his
tatters. His face, too, had lost its vacant and careless air, and the
poor creature looked hollow-eyed, meagre, half-starved, and nervous to
a pitiable degree.--After long hesitation, he at length approached
Waverley with some confidence, stared him sadly in the face, and said,
'A' dead and gane--a' dead and gane!'

'Who are dead?' said Waverley, forgetting the incapacity of Davie to
hold any connected discourse.

'Baron--and Bailie and Saunders Saunderson and Lady Rose, that sang sae
sweet--A' dead and gane--dead and gane!

     But follow, follow me,
     While glow-worms light the lea;
     I'll show you where the dead should be--
     Each in his shroud,
     While winds pipe loud,
     And the red moon peeps dim through the cloud.
     Follow, follow me;
     Brave should he be
     That treads by night the dead man's lea.'

With these' words, chanted in a wild and earnest tone, he made a sign
to Waverley to follow him, and walked rapidly towards the bottom of the
garden, tracing the bank of the stream, which, it may be remembered, was
its eastern boundary. Edward, over whom an involuntary shuddering stole
at the import of his words, followed him in some hope of an explanation.
As the house was evidently deserted, he could not expect to find among
the ruins any more rational informer.

Davie, walking very fast, soon reached the extremity of the garden, and
scrambled over the ruins of the wall that once had divided it from the
wooded glen in which the old Tower of Tully-Veolan was situated. He
then jumped down into the bed of the stream, and, followed by Waverley,
proceeded at a great pace, climbing over some fragments of rock, and
turning with difficulty round others. They passed beneath the ruins
of the castle; Waverley followed, keeping up with his guide with
difficulty, for the twilight began to fall. Following the descent of the
stream a little lower, he totally lost him, but a twinkling light, which
he now discovered among the tangled copse-wood and bushes, seemed a
surer guide. He soon pursued a very uncouth path; and by its guidance at
length reached the door of a wretched hut. A fierce barking of dogs was
at first heard, but it stilled at his approach. A voice sounded from
within, and he held it most prudent to listen before he advanced.

'Wha hast thou brought here, thou unsonsy villain, thou?' said an old
woman, apparently in great indignation. He heard Davie Gellatley, in
answer, whistle a part of the tune by which he had recalled himself to
the simpleton's memory, and had now no hesitation to knock at the door.
There was a dead silence instantly within, except the deep growling of
the dogs; and he next heard the mistress of the hut approach the door,
not probably for the sake of undoing a latch, but of fastening a bolt.
To prevent this, Waverley lifted the latch himself.

In front was an old wretched-looking woman, exclaiming, 'Wha comes into
folk's houses in this gate, at this time o' the night?' On one side, two
grim and half-starved deer greyhounds laid aside their ferocity at
his appearance, and seemed to recognize him. On the other side, half
concealed by the open door, yet apparently seeking that concealment
reluctantly, with a cocked pistol in his right hand, and his left in the
act of drawing another from his belt, stood a tall bony gaunt figure in
the remnants of a faded uniform, and a beard of three weeks' growth.

It was the Baron of Bradwardine. It is unnecessary to add, that he threw
aside his weapon, and greeted Waverley with a hearty embrace.



CHAPTER LXIV

COMPARING OF NOTES

The Baron's story was short, when divested of the adages and
commonplaces, Latin, English, and Scotch, with which his erudition
garnished it. He insisted much upon his grief at the loss of Edward and
of Glennaquoich, fought the fields of Falkirk and Culloden, and related
how, after all was lost in the last battle, he had returned home, under
the idea of more easily finding shelter among his own tenants, and on
his own estate, than elsewhere. A party of soldiers had been sent to
lay waste his property, for clemency was not the order of the day. Their
proceedings, however, were checked by an order from the civil court.
The estate, it was found, might not be forfeited to the crown, to the
prejudice of Malcolm Bradwardine of Inch-Grabbit, the heir-male, whose
claim could not be prejudiced by the Baron's attainder, as deriving no
right through him, and who, therefore, like other heirs of entail in
the same situation, entered upon possession. But, unlike many in similar
circumstances, the new laird speedily showed that he intended utterly to
exclude his predecessor from all benefit or advantage in the estate, and
that it was his purpose to avail himself of the old Baron's evil fortune
to the full extent. This was the more ungenerous, as it was generally
known, that, from a romantic idea of not prejudicing this young man's
right as heir-male, the Baron had refrained from settling his estate on
his daughter.

This selfish injustice was resented by the country people, who were
partial to their old master, and irritated against his successor. In the
Baron's own words, 'The matter did not coincide with the feelings of
the commons of Bradwardine, Mr. Waverley; and the tenants were slack and
repugnant in payment of their mails and duties; and when my kinsman came
to the village wi' the new factor, Mr. James Howie, to lift the
rents, some wanchancy person--I suspect John Heatherblutter, the auld
gamekeeper, that was out wi' me in the year fifteen--fired a shot at
him in the gloaming, whereby he was so affrighted, that I may say with
Tullius in Catilinam, ABIIT, EVASIT, ERUPIT, EFFUGIT. He fled, sir, as
one may say, incontinent to Stirling. And now he hath advertised the
estate for sale, being himself the last substitute in the entail. And if
I were to lament about sic matters, this would grieve me mair than its
passing from my immediate possession, whilk, by the course of nature,
must have happened in a few years. Whereas now it passes from the
lineage that should have possessed it in SAECULA SAECULORUM. But God's
will be done, HUMANA PERPESSI SUMUS. Sir John of Bradwardine--Black Sir
John, as he is called--who was the common ancestor of our house and the
Inch-Grabbits, little thought such a person would have sprung from his
loins. Meantime, he has accused me to some of the primates, the rulers
for the time, as if I were a cut-throat, and an abettor of bravoes and
assassinates, and coupe-jarrets. And they have sent soldiers here to
abide on the estate, and hunt me like a partridge upon the mountains,
as Scripture says of good King David, or like our valiant Sir William
Wallace,--not that I bring myself into comparison with either.--I
thought, when I heard you at the door, they had driven the auld deer to
his den at last; and so I e'en proposed to die at bay, like a buck of
the first head.--But now, Janet, canna ye gie us something for supper?'

'Ou aye, sir, I'll brander the moor-fowl that John Heatherblutter
brought in this morning; and ye see puir Davie's roasting the black
hen's eggs.--I daur say, Mr. Wauverley, ye never kend that a' the eggs
that were sae weel roasted at supper in the Ha'-house were aye turned
by our Davie?--there's no the like o' him ony gate for powtering wi'
his fingers amang the het peat-ashes, and roasting eggs. Davie all this
while lay with his nose almost in the fire, nuzzling among the ashes,
kicking his heels, mumbling to himself, turning the eggs as they lay in
the hot embers, as if to confute the proverb, that 'there goes reason to
roasting of eggs,' and justify the eulogium which poor Janet poured out
upon

     Him whom she loved, her idiot boy.

Davie's no sae silly as folk tak him for, Mr. Wauverley; he wadna
hae brought you here unless he had kend ye was a friend to his
Honour--indeed the very dogs kend ye, Mr. Wauverley, for ye was aye kind
to beast and body.--I can tell you a story o' Davie, wi' his Honour's
leave: His Honour, ye see, being under hiding in thae sair times--the
mair's the pity--he lies a' day, and whiles a' night, in the cove in the
dern hag; but though it 's a bieldy eneugh bit, and the auld gudeman o'
Corse-Cleugh has panged it wi' a kemple o' strae amaist, yet when the
country's quiet, and the night very cauld, his Honour whiles creeps doun
here to get a warm at the ingle, and a sleep amang the blankets, and
gangs awa in the morning. And so, ae morning, siccan a fright as I
got! Twa unlucky red-coats were up for black-fishing, or some siccan
ploy--for the neb o' them's never out o' mischief--and they just got a
glisk o' his Honour as he gaed into the wood, and banged aff a gun at
him, I out like a jer-falcon, and cried,--"Wad they shoot an honest
woman's poor innocent bairn?" And I fleyt at them, and threepit it was
my son; and they damned and swuir at me that it was the auld rebel, as
the villains ca'd his Honour; and Davie was in the wood, and heard the
tuilzie, and he, just out o' his ain head, got up the auld grey mantle
that his Honour had flung off him to gang the faster, and he cam out o'
the very same bit o' the wood, majoring and looking about sae like his
Honour, that they were clean beguiled, and thought they had letten aff
their gun at crack-brained Sawney, as they ca'd him; and they gae
me saxpence, and twa saumon fish, to say naething about it.--Na, na;
Davie's no just like other folk, puir fallow; but he's no sae silly as
folk tak him for.--But, to be sure, how can we do eneugh for his Honour,
when we and ours have lived on his ground this twa hundred years; and
when he keepit my puir Jamie at school and college, and even at the
Ha'-house, till he gaed to a better place; and when he saved me frae
being ta'en to Perth as a witch--lord forgi'e them that would touch
sic a puir silly auld body!--and has maintained puir Davie at heck and
manger maist feck o' his life?'

Waverley at length found an opportunity to interrupt Janet's narrative,
by an inquiry after Miss Bradwardine.

'She's weel and safe, thank God! at the Duchran,' answered the Baron.
'The laird's distantly related to us, and more nearly to my chaplain,
Mr. Rubrick; and, though he be of Whig principles, yet he's not
forgetful of auld friendship at this time. The Bailie's doing what he
can to save something out of the wreck for puir Rose; but I doubt, I
doubt, I shall never see her again, for I maun lay my banes in some far
country.'

'Hout na, your Honour,' said old Janet; 'ye were just as ill aff in the
feifteen, and got the bonnie baronie back, an' a'.--And now the eggs is
ready, and the muir-cock's brandered, and there's ilk ane a trencher and
some saut, and the heel o' the white loaf that cam frae the Bailie's;
and there's plenty o' brandy in the greybeard that Luckie Maclearie sent
doun; and winna ye be suppered like princes?'

'I wish one Prince, at least, of our acquaintance, may be no worse off,'
said the Baron to Waverley, who joined him in cordial hopes for the
safety of the unfortunate Chevalier.

They then began to talk of their future prospects. The Baron's plan was
very simple. It was, to escape to France, where, by the interest of his
old friends, he hoped to get some military employment, of which he
still conceived himself capable. He invited Waverley to go with him,
a proposal in which he acquiesced, providing the interest of Colonel
Talbot should fail in procuring his pardon. Tacitly he hoped the Baron
would sanction his addresses to Rose, and give him a right to assist him
in his exile; but he forbore to speak on this subject until his own fate
should be decided. They then talked of Glennaquoich, for whom the
Baron expressed great anxiety, although, he observed, he was 'the very
Achilles of Horatius Flaccus,--

     Impiger, iracundus, inexorabilis, acer.

Which,' he continued, 'has been thus rendered (vernacularly) by Struan
Robertson:

     A fiery etter-cap, a fractious chiel,
     As het as ginger, and as stieve as steel.'

Flora had a large and unqualified share of the good old man's sympathy.

It was now wearing late. Old Janet got into some kind of kennel behind
the hallan. Davie had been long asleep and snoring between Ban and
Buscar. These dogs had followed him to the hut after the mansion-house
was deserted, and there constantly resided; and their ferocity, with the
old woman's reputation of being a witch, contributed a good deal to keep
visitors from the glen. With this view, Bailie Macwheeble provided Janet
underhand with meal for their maintenance, and also with little articles
of luxury for their patron's use, in supplying which much precaution was
necessarily used. After some compliments, the Baron occupied his usual
couch, and Waverley reclined in an easy-chair of tattered velvet, which
had once garnished the state bed-room of Tully-Veolan (for the furniture
of this mansion was now scattered through all the cottages in the
vicinity), and went to sleep as comfortably as if he had been in a bed
of down.



CHAPTER LXV

MORE EXPLANATION

With the first dawn of the day, old Janet was scuttling about the house
to wake the Baron, who usually slept sound and heavily.

'I must go back,' he said to Waverley, to my cove: will you walk down
the glen wi' me?'

They went out together, and followed a narrow and entangled footpath,
which the occasional passage of anglers, or wood-cutters, had traced by
the side of the stream. On their way, the Baron explained to Waverley,
that he would be under no danger in remaining a day or two at
Tully-Veolan, and even in being seen walking about, if he used the
precaution of pretending that he was looking at the estate as agent or
surveyor for an English gentleman, who designed to be purchaser. With
this view, he recommended to him to visit the Bailie, who still lived at
the factor's house, called Little Veolan, about a mile from the village,
though he was to remove at next term. Stanley's passport would be an
answer to the officer who commanded the military; and as to any of the
country people who might recognize Waverley the Baron assured him that
he was in no danger of being betrayed by them.

'I believe,' said the old man, 'half the people of the barony know that
their poor auld laird is somewhere hereabout; for I see they do not
suffer a single bairn to come here a bird-nesting--a practice whilk,
when I was in full possession of my power as baron, I was unable totally
to inhibit. Nay, I often find bits of things in my way, that the poor
bodies, God help them! leave there, because they think they may be
useful to me. I hope they will get a wiser master, and as kind a one as
I was.'

A natural sigh closed the sentence; but the quiet equanimity with which
the Baron endured his misfortunes, had something in it venerable, and
even sublime. There was no fruitless repining, no turbid melancholy; he
bore his lot, and the hardships which it involved, with a good-humoured,
though serious composure, and used no violent language against the
prevailing party.

'I did what I thought my duty,' said the good old man, 'and questionless
they are doing what they think theirs. It grieves me sometimes to look
upon these blackened walls of the house of my ancestors; but doubtless
officers cannot always keep the soldier's hand from depredation and
spuilzie; and Gustavus Adolphus himself, as ye may read in Colonel Munro
his Expedition with the worthy Scotch regiment called Mackay's regiment,
did often permit it.--Indeed I have myself seen as sad sights as
Tully-Veolan now is, when I served with the Mareschal Duke of Berwick.
To be sure, we may say with Virgilius Maro, FUIMUS TROES--and there's
the end of an auld sang. But houses and families and men have a' stood
lang eneugh when they have stood till they fall with honour; and now
I hae gotten a house that is not unlike a DOMUS ULTIMA'--they were now
standing below a steep rock. 'We poor Jacobites,' continued the Baron,
looking up, 'are now like the conies in Holy Scripture (which the great
traveller Pococke calleth Jerboa), a feeble people, that make our abode
in the rocks. So, fare you well, my good lad, till we meet at Janet's in
the even; for I must get into my Patmos, which is no easy matter for my
auld still limbs.'

With that he began to ascend the rock, striding, with the help of
his hands, from one precarious footstep to another, till he got about
half-way up, where two or three bushes concealed the mouth of a hole,
resembling an oven, into which the Baron insinuated, first his head and
shoulders, and then, by slow gradation, the rest of his long body; his
legs and feet finally disappearing, coiled up like a huge snake entering
his retreat, or a long pedigree introduced with care and difficulty into
the narrow pigeon-hole of an old cabinet. Waverley had the curiosity to
clamber up and look in upon him in his den, as the lurking-place might
well be termed. Upon the whole, he looked not unlike that ingenious
puzzle, called a reel in a bottle, the marvel of children (and of
some grown people too, myself for one), who can neither comprehend the
mystery how it was got in, or how it is to be taken out. The cave was
very narrow, too low in the roof to admit of his standing, or almost
of his sitting up, though he made some awkward attempts at the latter
posture. His sole amusement was the perusal of his old friend Titus
Livius, varied by occasionally scratching Latin proverbs and texts of
Scripture with his knife on the roof and walls of his fortalice, which
were of sandstone. As the cave was dry, and filled with clean straw and
withered fern, 'it made,' as he said, coiling himself up with an air
of snugness and comfort which contrasted strangely with his situation,
'unless when the wind was due north, a very passable GITE for an old
soldier.' Neither, as he observed, was he without sentries for the
purpose of reconnoitring. Davie and his mother were constantly on the
watch, to discover and avert danger; and it was singular what instances
of address seemed dictated by the instinctive attachment of the poor
simpleton, when his patron's safety was concerned.

With Janet, Edward now sought an interview. He had recognized her at
first sight as the old woman who had nursed him during his sickness
after his delivery from Gifted Gilfillan. The hut, also, though a little
repaired, and somewhat better furnished, was certainly the place of his
confinement; and he now recollected on the common moor of Tully-Veolan
the trunk of a large decayed tree, called the TRYSTING-TREE, which he
had no doubt was the same at which the Highlanders rendezvoused on that
memorable night. All this he had combined in his imagination the night
before; but reasons, which may probably occur to the reader, prevented
him from catechizing Janet in the presence of the Baron.

He now commenced the task in good earnest; and the first question was,
Who was the young lady that visited the hut during his illness? Janet
paused for a little; and then observed, that to keep the secret now,
would neither do good nor ill to anybody. 'It was just a leddy that
hasna her equal in the world--Miss Rose Bradwardine.'

'Then Miss Rose was probably also the author of my deliverance,'
inferred Waverley, delighted at the confirmation of an idea which local
circumstances had already induced him to entertain.

'I wot weel, Mr. Wauverley, and that was she e'en; but sair, sair angry
and affronted wad she hae been, puir thing, if she had thought ye had
been ever to ken a word about the matter; for she gar'd me speak aye
Gaelic when ye was in hearing, to mak ye trow we were in the Hielands. I
can speak it well eneugh, for my mother was a Hieland woman.'

A few more questions now brought out the whole mystery respecting
Waverley's deliverance from the bondage in which he left Cairnvreckan.
Never did music sound sweeter to an amateur, than the drowsy tautology,
with which old Janet detailed every circumstance, thrilled upon the
ears of Waverley. But my reader is not a lover, and I must spare his
patience, by attempting to condense within reasonable compass the
narrative which old Janet spread through a harangue of nearly two hours,

When Waverley communicated to Fergus the letter he had received from
Rose Bradwardine, by Davie Gellatley, giving an account of Tully-Veolan
being occupied by a small party of soldiers, that circumstance had
struck upon the busy and active mind of the Chieftain. Eager to
distress and narrow the posts of the enemy, desirous to prevent their
establishing a garrison so near him, and willing also to oblige the
Baron,--for he often had the idea of marriage with Rose floating through
his brain,--he resolved to send some of his people to drive out the
red-coats, and to bring Rose to Glennaquoich. But just as he had ordered
Evan with a small party on this duty, the news of Cope's having marched
into the Highlands to meet and disperse the forces of the Chevalier,
ere they came to a head, obliged him to join the standard with his whole
forces.

He sent to order Donald Bean to attend him; but that cautious
freebooter, who well understood the value of a separate command, instead
of joining, sent various apologies which the pressure of the times
compelled Fergus to admit as current, though not without the internal
resolution of being revenged on him for his procrastination, time and
place convenient. However, as he could not amend the matter, he issued
orders to Donald to descend into the Low Country, drive the soldiers
from Tully-Veolan, and, paying all respect to the mansion of the Baron,
to take his abode somewhere near it, for protection of his daughter and
family, and to harass and drive away any of the armed volunteers,
or small parties of military, which he might find moving about the
vicinity.

As this charge formed a sort of roving commission, which Donald proposed
to interpret in the way most advantageous to himself, as he was relieved
from the immediate terrors of Fergus, and as he had, from former secret
services, some interest in the councils of the Chevalier, he resolved to
make hay while the sun shone. He achieved, without difficulty, the
task of driving the soldiers from Tully-Veolan; but although he did not
venture to encroach upon the interior of the family, or to disturb
Miss Rose, being unwilling to make himself a powerful enemy in the
Chevalier's army,

     For well he knew the Baron's wrath was deadly;

yet he set about to raise contributions and exactions upon the tenantry,
and otherwise to turn the war to his own advantage. Meanwhile he mounted
the white cockade, and waited upon Rose with a pretext of great devotion
for the service in which her father was engaged, and many apologies for
the freedom he must necessarily use for the support of his people. It
was at this moment that Rose learned, by open-mouthed fame, with
all sorts of exaggeration, that Waverley had killed the smith of
Cairnvreckan, in an attempt to arrest him; had been cast into a dungeon
by Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, and was to be executed by martial
law within three days. In the agony which these tidings excited, she
proposed to Donald Bean the rescue of the prisoner. It was the very
sort of service which he was desirous to undertake, judging it might
constitute a merit of such a nature as would make amends for any
peccadilloes which he might be guilty of in the country. He had the art,
however, pleading all the while duty and discipline, to hold off, until
poor Rose, in the extremity of her distress, offered to bribe him to the
enterprise with some valuable jewels which had been her mother's.

Donald Bean, who had served in France, knew, and perhaps over-estimated,
the value of these trinkets. But he also perceived Rose's apprehensions
of its being discovered that she had parted with her jewels for
Waverley's liberation. Resolved this scruple should not part him and
the treasure, he voluntarily offered to take an oath that he would never
mention Miss Rose's share in the transaction; and foreseeing convenience
in keeping the oath, and no probable advantage in breaking it, he took
the engagement--in order, as he told his lieutenant, to deal handsomely
by the young lady--in the only form and mode which, by a mental paction
with himself, he considered as binding--he swore secrecy upon his drawn
dirk. He was the more especially moved to this act of good faith by some
attentions that Miss Bradwardine showed to his daughter Alice, which,
while they gained the heart of the mountain damsel, highly gratified the
pride of her father. Alice, who could now speak a little English, was
very communicative in return for Rose's kindness, readily confided to
her the whole papers respecting the intrigue with Gardiner's regiment,
of which she was the depositary, and as readily undertook, at her
instance, to restore them to Waverley without her father's knowledge.
'For they may oblige the bonnie young lady and the handsome young
gentleman,' said Alice, 'and what use has my father for a whin bits o'
scarted paper?'

The reader is aware that she took an opportunity of executing this
purpose on the eve of Waverley's leaving the glen.

How Donald executed his enterprise, the reader is aware. But the
expulsion of the military from Tully-Veolan had given alarm, and, while
he was lying in wait for Gilfillan, a strong party, such as Donald did
not care to face, was sent to drive back the insurgents in their turn,
to encamp there, and to protect the country. The officer, a gentleman
and a disciplinarian, neither intruded himself on Miss Bradwardine,
whose unprotected situation he respected, nor permitted his soldiers
to commit any breach of discipline. He formed a little camp, upon an
eminence near the house of Tully-Veolan, and placed proper guards at the
passes in the vicinity. This unwelcome news reached Donald Bean Lean
as he was returning to Tully-Veolan. Determined, however, to obtain the
guerdon of his labour, he resolved, since approach to Tully-Veolan was
impossible; to deposit his prisoner in Janet's cottage--a place the very
existence of which could hardly have been suspected even by those who
had long lived In the vicinity, unless they had been guided thither, and
which was utterly unknown to Waverley himself. This effected, he claimed
and received his reward. Waverley's illness was an event which deranged
all their calculations. Donald was obliged to leave the neighbourhood
with his people, and to seek more free course for his adventures
elsewhere. At Rose's earnest entreaty, he left an old man, a herbalist,
who was supposed to understand a little of medicine, to attend Waverley
during his illness.

In the meanwhile, new and fearful doubts started in Rose's mind. They
were suggested by old Janet, who insisted, that a reward having been
offered for the apprehension of Waverley, and his own personal effects
being so valuable, there was no saying to what breach of faith Donald
might be tempted. In an agony of grief and terror, Rose took the daring
resolution of explaining to the Prince himself the danger in which Mr.
Waverley stood, judging that, both as a politician, and a man of honour
and humanity, Charles Edward would interest himself to prevent his
falling into the hands of the opposite party. This letter she at first
thought of sending anonymously, but naturally feared it would not, in
that case, be credited. She therefore subscribed her name, though with
reluctance and terror, and consigned it in charge to a young man, who,
at leaving his farm to join the Chevalier's army, made it his petition
to her to have some sort of credentials to the Adventurer, from whom he
hoped to obtain a commission.

The letter reached Charles Edward on his descent to the Lowlands, and,
aware of the political importance of having it supposed that he was in
correspondence with the English Jacobites, he caused the most positive
orders to be transmitted to Donald Bean Lean, to transmit Waverley, safe
and uninjured in person or effects, to the governor of Doune Castle. The
freebooter durst not disobey, for the army of the Prince was now so near
him that punishment might have followed; besides, he was a politician
as well as a robber, and was unwilling to cancel the interest created
through former secret services, by being refractory on this occasion.
He therefore made a virtue of necessity, and transmitted orders to his
lieutenant to convey Edward to Doune, which was safely accomplished
in the mode mentioned in a former chapter. The governor of Doune was
directed to send him to Edinburgh as a prisoner, because the Prince was
apprehensive that Waverley, if set at liberty, might have resumed his
purpose of returning to England, without affording him an opportunity
of a personal interview. In this, indeed, he acted by the advice of the
Chieftain of Glennaquoich, with whom it may be remembered the Chevalier
communicated upon the mode of disposing of Edward, though without
telling him how he came to learn the place of his confinement.

This, indeed, Charles Edward considered as a lady's secret; for although
Rose's letter was couched in the most cautious and general terms, and
professed to be written merely from motives of humanity, and zeal for
the Prince's service, yet she expressed so anxious a wish that she
should not be known to have interfered, that the Chevalier was induced
to suspect the deep interest which she took in Waverley's safety. This
conjecture, which was well founded, led, however, to false inferences.
For the emotion which Edward displayed on approaching Flora and Rose at
the ball of Holyrood, was placed by the Chevalier to the account of the
latter, and he concluded that the Baron's views about the settlement of
his property, or some such obstacle, thwarted their mutual inclinations.
Common fame, it is true, frequently gave Waverley to Miss Mac-Ivor; but
the Prince knew that common fame is very prodigal in such gifts; and,
watching attentively the behaviour of the ladies towards Waverley, he
had no doubt that the young Englishman had no interest with Flora,
and was beloved by Rose Bradwardine. Desirous to bind Waverley to his
service, and wishing also to do a kind and friendly action, the Prince
next assailed the Baron on the subject of settling his estate upon his
daughter. Mr. Bradwardine acquiesced; but the consequence was, that
Fergus was immediately induced to prefer his double suit for a wife and
an earldom, which the Prince rejected in the manner we have seen. The
Chevalier, constantly engaged in his own multiplied affairs, had not
hitherto sought any explanation with Waverley, though often meaning to
do so. But after Fergus's declaration, he saw the necessity of appearing
neutral between the rivals, devoutly hoping that the matter, which now
seemed fraught with the seeds of strife, might be permitted to lie over
till the termination of the expedition. When on the march to Derby,
Fergus, being questioned concerning his quarrel with Waverley, alleged
as the cause, that Edward was desirous of retracting the suit he made to
his sister, the Chevalier plainly told him, that he had himself observed
Miss Mac-Ivor's behaviour to Waverley, and that he was convinced Fergus
was under the influence of a mistake in judging of Waverley's conduct,
who, he had every reason to believe, was engaged to Miss Bradwardine.
The quarrel which ensued between Edward and the chieftain is, I hope,
still in the remembrance of the reader. These circumstances will serve
to explain such points of our narrative as, according to the custom of
story-tellers, we deemed it fit to leave unexplained, for the purpose of
exciting the reader's curiosity.

When Janet had once finished the leading facts of this narrative,
Waverley was easily enabled to apply the clue which they afforded,
to other mazes of the labyrinth in which he had been engaged. To Rose
Bradwardine, then, he owed the life which he now thought he could
willingly have laid down to serve her. A little reflection convinced
him, however, that to live for her sake was more convenient and
agreeable, and that, being possessed of independence, she might share
it with him either in foreign countries or in his own. The pleasure of
being allied to a man of the Baron's high worth, and who was so much
valued by his uncle Sir Everard, was also an agreeable consideration,
had anything been wanting to recommend the match. His absurdities, which
had appeared grotesquely ludicrous during his prosperity, seemed, in the
sunset of his fortune, to be harmonized and assimilated with the noble
features of his character, so as to add peculiarity without exciting
ridicule. His mind occupied with such projects of future happiness,
Edward sought Little Veolan, the habitation of Mr. Duncan Macwheeble.



CHAPTER LXVI

     Now is Cupid like a child of conscience--he makes
     restitution.--SHAKESPEARE.

Mr. Duncan Macwheeble, no longer Commissary or Bailie, though still
enjoying the empty name of the latter dignity, had escaped
proscription by an early secession from the insurgent party and by his
insignificance.

Edward found him in his office, immersed among papers and accounts.
Before him was a large bicker of oatmeal-porridge, and at the side
thereof, a horn-spoon and a bottle of two-penny. Eagerly running his eye
over a voluminous law-paper, he from time to time shovelled an
immense spoonful of these nutritive viands into his capacious mouth. A
pot-bellied Dutch bottle of brandy which stood by, intimated either that
this honest limb of the law had taken his morning already, or that
he meant to season his porridge with such digestive; or perhaps
both circumstances might reasonably be inferred. His night-cap and
morning-gown had whilome been of tartan, but, equally cautious and
frugal, the honest Bailie had got them dyed black, lest their original
ill-omened colour might remind his visitors of his unlucky excursion to
Derby. To sum up the picture, his face was daubed with snuff up to the
eyes, and his fingers with ink up to the knuckles. He looked dubiously
at Waverley as he approached the little green rail which fenced his desk
and stool from the approach of the vulgar. Nothing could give the Bailie
more annoyance than the idea of his acquaintance being claimed by any
of the unfortunate gentlemen who were now so much more likely to
need assistance than to afford profit. But this was the rich young
Englishman--who knew what might be his situation?--he was the Baron's
friend too--what was to be done?

While these reflections gave an air of absurd perplexity to the poor
man's visage, Waverley, reflecting on the communication he was about to
make to him, of a nature so ridiculously contrasted with the appearance
of the individual, could not help bursting out a-laughing, as he checked
the propensity to exclaim with Syphax--

     Cato's a proper person to entrust
     A love-tale with.

As Mr. Macwheeble had no idea of any person laughing heartily who was
either encircled by peril or oppressed by poverty, the hilarity of
Edward's countenance greatly relieved the embarrassment of his own, and,
giving him a tolerably hearty welcome to Little Veolan, he asked what
he would choose for breakfast. His visitor had, in the first place,
something for his private ear, and begged leave to bolt the door.
Duncan by no means liked this precaution, which savoured of danger to be
apprehended; but he could not now draw back.

Convinced he might trust this man, as he could make it his interest
to be faithful, Edward communicated his present situation and future
schemes to Macwheeble. The wily agent listened with apprehension when
he found Waverley was still in a state of proscription--was somewhat
comforted by learning that he had a passport--rubbed his hands with glee
when he mentioned the amount of his present fortune--opened huge eyes
when he heard the brilliancy of his future expectations; but when
he expressed his intention to share them with Miss Rose Bradwardine,
ecstasy had almost deprived the honest man of his senses. The Bailie
started from his three-footed stool like the Pythoness from her tripod;
flung his best wig out of the window, because the block on which it was
placed stood in the way of his career; chucked his cap to the ceiling,
caught it as it fell; whistled Tullochgorum; danced a Highland fling
with inimitable grace and agility; and then threw himself exhausted into
a chair, exclaiming, 'Lady Wauverley!--ten thousand a year, the least
penny!--Lord preserve my poor understanding!'

'Amen, with all my heart,' said Waverley;--'but now, Mr. Macwheeble, let
us proceed to business.' This word had a somewhat sedative effect, but
the Bailie's head, as he expressed himself, was still 'in the bees.'
He mended his pen, however, marked half a dozen sheets of paper with an
ample marginal fold, whipped down Dallas of St. Martin's STYLES from
a shelf, where that venerable work roosted with Stair's INSTITUTIONS,
Dirleton's DOUBTS, Balfour's PRACTIQUES, and a parcel of old
account-books-opened the volume at the article Contract of Marriage, and
prepared to make what he called a 'sma' minute, to prevent parties frae
resiling.

With some difficulty, Waverley made him comprehend that he was going a
little too fast. He explained to him that he should want his assistance,
in the first place, to make his residence safe for the time, by writing
to the officer at Tully-Veolan, that Mr. Stanley, an English gentleman,
nearly related to Colonel Talbot, was upon a visit of business at
Mr. Macwheeble's, and, knowing the state of the country, had sent his
passport for Captain Foster's inspection. This produced a polite answer
from the officer, with an invitation to Mr. Stanley to dine with him,
which was declined (as may easily be supposed), under pretence of
business.

Waverley's next request was, that Mr. Macwheeble would dispatch a man
and horse to --, the post-town, at which Colonel Talbot was to address
him, with directions to wait there until the post should bring a letter
for Mr. Stanley, and then to forward it to Little Veolan with all speed.
In a moment, the Bailie was in search of his apprentice (or servitor, as
he was called Sixty Years since), Jock Scriever, and in not much greater
space of time, Jock was on the back of the white pony.

'Tak care ye guide him weel, sir, for he's aye been short in the wind
since--ahem--lord be gude to me!' (in a low voice) 'I was gaun to come
out wi'--since I rode whip and spur to fetch the Chevalier to redd
Mr. Wauverley and Vich Ian Vohr; and an uncanny coup I gat for my
pains.--Lord forgie your honour! I might hae broken my neck--but troth
it was in a venture, mae ways nor ane; but this maks amends for a'. Lady
Wauverley!--ten thousand a year!--Lord be gude unto me!'

'But you forget, Mr. Macwheeble, we want the Baron's consent--the
lady's--'

'Never fear, I'se be caution for them--I'se gie you my personal
warrandice--ten thousand a year! it dings Balmawhapple out and out--a
year's rent's worth a' Balmawhapple, fee and life-rent! Lord make us
thankful!'

To turn the current of his feelings, Edward inquired if he had heard
anything lately of the Chieftain of Glennaquoich?

'Not one word,' answered Macwheeble, 'but that he was still in Carlisle
Castle, and was soon to be panelled for his life. I dinna wish the young
gentleman ill,' he said, 'but I hope that they that hae got him will
keep him, and no let him back to this Hieland border to plague us wi'
blackmail, and a' manner o' violent, wrongous, and masterfu' oppression
and spoliation, both by himself and others of his causing, sending, and
hounding out:--and he couldna tak care o' the siller when he had gotten
it neither, but flung it a' into yon idle quean's lap at Edinburgh--but
light come light gane. For my part, I never wish to see a kilt in the
country again, nor a red-coat, nor a gun, for that matter, unless it
were to shoot a paitrick:--they're a' tarr'd wi' ae stick. And when
they have done ye wrang, even when ya hae gotten decreet of spuilzie,
oppression, and violent profits against them, what better are ye?--they
hae na a plack to pay ye; ye need never extract it.'

With such discourse, and the intervening topics of business, the time
passed until dinner, Macwheeble meanwhile promising to devise some mode
of introducing Edward at the Duchran, where Rose at present resided,
without risk of danger or suspicion; which seemed no very easy
task, since the laird was a very zealous friend to Government.--The
poultry-yard had been laid under requisition, and cockyleeky and Scotch
collops soon reeked in the Bailie's little parlour. The landlord's
corkscrew was just introduced into the muzzle of a pint-bottle of claret
(cribbed possibly from the cellars of Tully-Veolan), when the sight of
the grey pony, passing the window at full trot, induced the Bailie,
but with due precaution, to place it aside for the moment. Enter Jock
Scriever with a packet for Mr. Stanley: it is Colonel Talbot's seal; and
Edward's fingers tremble as he undoes it. Two official papers, folded,
signed, and sealed in all formality, drop out. They were hastily picked
up by the Bailie, who had a natural respect for everything resembling
a deed, and, glancing slily on their titles, his eyes, or rather
spectacles, are greeted with 'Protection by His Royal Highness to the
person of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq. of that ilk, commonly
called Baron of Bradwardine, forfeited for his accession to the late
rebellion.' The other proves to be a protection of the same tenor in
favour of Edward Waverley, Esq. Colonel Talbot's letter was in these
words:--

'MY DEAR EDWARD,

'I am just arrived here, and yet I have finished my business; it has
cost me some trouble though, as you shall hear. I waited upon his Royal
Highness immediately on my arrival, and found him in no very good humour
for my purpose. Three or four Scotch gentlemen were just leaving his
levee. After he had expressed himself to me very courteously; "Would
you think it," he said, "Talbot? here have been half a dozen of the
most respectable gentlemen, and best friends to Government north of
the Forth,--Major Melville of Cairnvreckan, Rubrick of Duchran, and
others,--who have fairly wrung from me, by their downright importunity,
a present protection, and the promise of a future pardon, for that
stubborn old rebel whom they call Baron of Bradwardine. They allege that
his high personal character, and the clemency which he showed to such of
our people as fell into the rebels' hands, should weigh in his favour;
especially as the loss of his estate is likely to be a severe enough
punishment. Rubrick has undertaken to keep him at his own house till
things are settled in the country; but it's a little hard to be forced
in a manner to pardon such a mortal enemy to the House of Brunswick."
This was no favourable moment for opening my business:--however, I said
I was rejoiced to learn that his Royal Highness was in the course of
granting such requests, as it emboldened me to present one of the like
nature in my own name. He was very angry, but I persisted;--I mentioned
the uniform support of our three votes in the House, touched modestly
on services abroad, though valuable only in his Royal Highness's having
been pleased kindly to accept them, and founded pretty strongly on his
own expressions of friendship and goodwill. He was embarrassed, but
obstinate. I hinted the policy of detaching, on all future occasions,
the heir of such a fortune as your uncle's from the machinations of the
disaffected. But I made no impression. I mentioned the obligation which
I lay under to Sir Everard, and to you personally, and claimed, as the
sole reward of my services, that he would be pleased to afford me the
means of evincing my gratitude. I perceived that he still meditated a
refusal, and, taking my commission from my pocket, I said (as a last
resource), that as his Royal Highness did not, under these pressing
circumstances, think me worthy of a favour which he had not scrupled
to grant to other gentlemen, whose services I could hardly judge more
important than my own, I must beg leave to deposit, with all humility,
my commission in his Royal Highness's hands, and to retire from the
service. He was not prepared for this;--he told me to take up my
commission; said some handsome things of my services, and granted my
request. You are therefore once more a free man, and I have promised for
you that you will be a good boy in future, and remember what you owe to
the lenity of Government. Thus you see MY PRINCE can be as generous as
YOURS. I do not pretend, indeed, that he confers a favour with all the
foreign graces and compliments of your Chevalier errant; but he has a
plain English manner, and the evident reluctance with which he grants
your request, indicates the sacrifice which he makes of his own
inclination to your wishes. My friend, the adjutant-general, has
procured me a duplicate of the Baron's protection (the original being in
Major Melville's possession), which I send to you, as I know that if you
can find him you will have pleasure in being the first to communicate
the joyful intelligence. He will of course repair to the Duchran without
loss of time, there to ride quarantine for a few weeks. As for you, I
give you leave to escort him thither, and to stay a week there, as
I understand a certain fair lady is in that quarter. And I have the
pleasure to tell you, that whatever progress you can make in her good
graces will be highly agreeable to Sir Everard and Mrs. Rachel, who will
never believe your view and prospects settled, and the three ermines
passant in actual safety, until you present them with a Mrs. Edward
Waverley. Now, certain love-affairs of my own--a good many years
since--interrupted some measures which were then proposed in favour of
the three ermines passant; so I am bound in honour to make them amends.
Therefore make good use of your time, for when your week is expired, it
will be necessary that you go to London to plead your pardon in the law
courts.

'Ever, dear Waverley, yours most truly,

'PHILIP TALBOT.'



CHAPTER LXVII

     Happy 's the wooing
     That's not long a-doing.

When the first rapturous sensation occasioned by these excellent tidings
had somewhat subsided, Edward proposed instantly to go down to the glen
to acquaint the Baron with their import. But the cautious Bailie justly
observed, that if the Baron were to appear instantly in public, the
tenantry and villagers might become riotous in expressing their joy,
and give offence to 'the powers that be,' a sort of persons for whom
the Bailie always had unlimited respect. He therefore proposed that Mr.
Waverley should go to Janet Gellatley's, and bring the Baron up under
cloud of night to Little Veolan, where he might once more enjoy the
luxury of a good bed. In the meanwhile, he said, he himself would go
to Captain Foster, and show him the Baron's protection, and obtain his
countenance for harbouring him that night,--and he would have horses
ready on the morrow to set him on his way to the Duchran along with
Mr. Stanley, 'whilk denomination, I apprehend, your honour will for the
present retain,' said the Bailie.

'Certainly, Mr. Macwheeble; but will you not go down to the glen
yourself in the evening to meet your patron?'

'That I wad wi' a' my heart; and mickle obliged to your honour for
putting me in mind o' my bounden duty. But it will be past sunset afore
I get back frae the Captain's, and at these unsonsy hours the glen has
a bad name--there's something no that canny about auld Janet Gellatley.
The Laird he'll no believe thae things, but he was aye ower rash and
venturesome--and feared neither man nor deevil--and sae's seen o't.
But right sure am I Sir George Mackenyie says, that no divine can doubt
there are witches, since the Bible says thou shalt not suffer them
to live; and that no lawyer in Scotland can doubt it, since it is
punishable with death by our law. So there's baith law and gospel for
it. An his honour winna believe the Leviticus, he might aye believe
the Statute-book; but he may tak his ain way o't--it's a' ane to Duncan
Macwheeble. However, I shall send to ask up auld Janet this e'en; it 's
best no to lightly them that have that character--and we'll want Davie
to turn the spit, for I'll gar Eppie put down a fat goose to the fire
for your honours to your supper.'

When it was near sunset, Waverley hastened to the hut; and he could not
but allow that superstition had chosen no improper locality, or unfit
object, for the foundation of her fantastic terrors. It resembled
exactly the description of Spenser:

     There, in a gloomy hollow glen, she found.
     A little cottage built of sticks and reeds,
     In homely wise, and wall'd with sods around,
     In which a witch did dwell in loathly weeds,
     And wilful want, all careless of her needs;
     So choosing solitary to abide
     Far from all neighbours, that her devilish deeds,
     And hellish arts, from people she might hide,
     And hurt far off, unknown, whomsoever she espied.

He entered the cottage with these verses in his memory. Poor old Janet,
bent double with age, and bleared with peat-smoke, was tottering about
the hut with a birch broom, muttering to herself as she endeavoured
to make her hearth and floor a little clean for the reception of her
expected guests. Waverley's step made her start, look up, and fall
a-trembling, so much had her nerves been on the rack for her patron's
safety. With difficulty Waverley made her comprehend that the Baron
was now safe from personal danger; and when her mind had admitted that
joyful news, it was equally hard to make her believe that he was not to
enter again upon possession of his estate. 'It behoved to be,' she said,
'he wad get it back again; naebody wad be sae gripple as to tak his gear
after they had gi'en him a pardon: and for that Inch-Grabbit, I could
whiles wish mysell a witch for his sake, if I werena feared the Enemy
wad tak me at my word.' Waverley then gave her some money, and promised
that her fidelity should be rewarded. 'How can I be rewarded, sir, sae
weel, as just to see my auld maister and Miss Rose come back and bruik
their ain?'

Waverley now took leave of Janet, and soon stood beneath the Baron's
Patmos. At a low whistle, he observed the veteran peeping out to
reconnoitre, like an old badger with his head out of his hole. 'Ye hae
come rather early, my good lad,' said he, descending; 'I question if the
red-coats hae beat the tattoo yet, and we're not safe till then.'

'Good news cannot be told too soon,' said Waverley; and with infinite
joy communicated to him the happy tidings.

The old man stood for a moment in silent devotion, then exclaimed,
'Praise be to God!--I shall see my bairn again.'

'And never, I hope, to part with her more,' said Waverley.

'I trust in God, not, unless it be to win the means of supporting her;
for my things are but in a bruckle state;--but what signifies warld's
gear?'

'And if,' said Waverley, modestly, 'there were a situation in life which
would put Miss Bradwardine beyond the uncertainty of fortune, and in
the rank to which she was born, would you object to it, my dear Baron,
because it would make one of your friends the happiest man in the
world?' The Baron turned, and looked at him with great earnestness.
'Yes,' continued Edward, 'I shall not consider my sentence of banishment
as repealed, unless you will give me permission to accompany you to the
Duchran, and--'

The Baron seemed collecting all his dignity to make a suitable reply to
what, at another time, he would have treated as the propounding a treaty
of alliance between the houses of Bradwardine and Waverley. But his
efforts were in vain; the father was too mighty for the Baron; the pride
of birth and rank were swept away: in the joyful surprise, a slight
convulsion passed rapidly over his features as he gave way to the
feelings of nature, threw his arms around Waverley's neck, and sobbed
out,--'My son! my son!--if I had been to search the world, I would have
made my choice here.' Edward returned the embrace with great sympathy of
feeling, and for a little while they both kept silence. At length it was
broken by Edward. But Miss Bradwardine?'

'She had never a will but her old father's; besides, you are a likely
youth, of honest principles and high birth; no, she never had any other
will than mine, and in my proudest days I could not have wished a mair
eligible espousal for her than the nephew of my excellent old friend,
Sir Everard.--But I hope, young man, ye deal na rashly in this matter?
I hope ye hae secured the approbation of your ain friends and allies,
particularly of your uncle, who is in LOCO PARENTIS? Ah! we maun tak
heed o' that.' Edward assured him that Sir Everard would think himself
highly honoured in the flattering reception his proposal had met with,
and that it had his entire approbation; in evidence of which, he put
Colonel Talbot's letter into the Baron's hand. The Baron read it with
great attention. 'Sir Everard,' he said, 'always despised wealth in
comparison of honour and birth; and indeed he had no occasion to court
the DIVA PECUNIA. Yet I now wish, since this Malcolm turns out such a
parricide, for I can call him no better, as to think of alienating the
family inheritance-I now wish' (his eyes fixed on a part of the roof
which was visible above the trees) 'that I could have left Rose the
auld hurley-house, and the riggs belanging to it.--And yet,' said he,
resuming more cheerfully, 'it's maybe as weel as it is; for, as Baron
of Bradwardine, I might have thought it my duty to insist upon certain
compliances respecting name and bearings, whilk now, as a landless laird
wi' a tocherless daughter, no one can blame me for departing from.'

'Now, Heaven be praised!' thought Edward, 'that Sir Everard does not
hear these scruples!--the three ermines passsat and rampant bear would
certainly have gone together by the ears.' He then, with all the ardour
of a young lover, assured the Baron, that he sought for his happiness
only in Rose's heart and hand, and thought himself as happy in her
father's simple approbation, as if he had settled an earldom upon his
daughter.

They now reached Little Veolan. The goose was smoking on the table, and
the Bailie brandished his knife and fork. A joyous greeting took place
between him and his patron. The kitchen, too, had its company. Auld
Janet was established at the ingle-nook; Davie had turned the spit
to his immortal honour; and even Ban and Buscar, in the liberality of
Macwheeble's joy, had been stuffed to the throat with food, and now lay
snoring on the floor.

The next day conducted the Baron and his young friend to the Duchran,
where the former was expected, in consequence of the success of the
nearly unanimous application of the Scottish friends of Government in
his favour. This had been so general and so powerful, that it was almost
thought his estate might have been saved, had it not passed into the
rapacious hands-of his unworthy kinsman, whose right, arising out of the
Baron's attainder, could not be affected by a pardon from the crown.
The old gentleman, however, said, with his usual spirit, he was
more gratified by the hold he possessed in the good opinion of his
neighbours, than he would have been in being 'rehabilitated and restored
IN INTEGRUM, had it been found practicable.'

We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the father and
daughter,--loving each other so affectionately, and separated under such
perilous circumstances. Still less shall we attempt to analyse the deep
blush of Rose, at receiving the compliments of Waverley, or stop to
inquire whether she had any curiosity respecting the particular cause of
his journey to Scotland at that period. We shall not; even trouble the
reader with the humdrum details of a courtship Sixty Years since. It is
enough to say, that, under so strict a martinet as the Baron, all things
were conducted in due form. He took upon himself, the morning after
their arrival, the task of announcing the proposal of Waverley to Rose,
which she heard with a proper degree of maiden timidity. Fame does,
however, say, that Waverley had, the evening before, found five minutes
to apprize her of what was coming, while the rest of the company were
looking at three twisted serpents which formed a JET D'EAU in the
garden.

My fair readers will judge for themselves; but, for my part, I cannot
conceive how so important an affair could be communicated in so short a
space of time;--at least, it certainly took a full hour in the Baron's
mode of conveying it.

Waverley was now considered as a received lover in all the forms. He
was made, by dint of smirking and nodding on the part of the lady of
the house, to sit next to Miss Bradwardine at dinner, to be Miss
Bradwardine's partner at cards. If he came into the room, she of the
four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose, was sure to recollect
that her thimble, or her scissors, were at the other end of the room,
in order to leave the seat nearest to Miss Bradwardine vacant for his
occupation, And sometimes, if papa and mamma were not in the way to keep
them on their good behaviour, the misses would titter a little. The old
laird of Duchran would also have his occasional jest, and the old lady
her remark. Even the Baron could not refrain; but here Rose escaped
every embarrassment but that of conjecture, for his wit was usually
couched in a Latin quotation. The very footmen sometimes grinned too
broadly, the maid-servants giggled mayhap too loud, and a provoking
air of intelligence seemed to pervade the whole family. Alice Bean, the
pretty maid of the cavern, who, after her father's MISFORTUNE, as she
called it, had attended Rose as fille-de-chambre, smiled and smirked
with the best of them. Rose and Edward, however, endured all these
little vexatious circumstances as other folks have done before and
since, and probably contrived to obtain some indemnification, since they
are not supposed, on the whole, to have been particularly unhappy during
Waverley's six days' stay at the Duchran.

It was finally arranged that Edward should go to Waverley-Honour to make
the necessary arrangements for his marriage, thence to London to take
the proper measures for pleading his pardon, and return as soon as
possible to claim the hand of his plighted bride. He also intended in
his journey to visit Colonel Talbot; but, above all, it was his
most important object to learn the fate of the unfortunate Chief of
Glennaquoich; to visit him at Carlisle, and to try whether anything
could be done for procuring, if not a pardon, a commutation at least, or
alleviation, of the punishment to which he was almost certain of being
condemned;--and in case of the worst, to offer the miserable Flora an
asylum with Rose, or otherwise to assist her views in any mode which
might seem possible. The fate of Fergus seemed hard to be averted.
Edward had already striven to interest his friend Colonel Talbot in his
behalf; but had been given distinctly to understand, by his reply, that
his credit in matters of that nature was totally exhausted.

The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to wait there for some
months upon business confided to him by the Duke of Cumberland. He was
to be joined by Lady Emily, to whom easy travelling and goat's whey
were recommended, and who was to journey northward, under the escort of
Francis Stanley. Edward, therefore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who
wished him joy in the kindest manner on his approaching happiness, and
cheerfully undertook many commissions which our hero was necessarily
obliged to delegate to his charge. But on the subject of Fergus he was
inexorable. He satisfied Edward, indeed, that his interference would
be unavailing; but besides, Colonel Talbot owned that he could not
conscientiously use any influence in favour of that unfortunate
gentleman. 'Justice,' he said, 'which demanded some penalty of those who
had wrapped the whole nation in fear and in mourning, could not perhaps
have selected a fitter victim, He came to the field with the fullest
light upon the nature of his attempt. He had studied and understood the
subject. His father's fate could not intimidate him; the lenity of the
laws which had restored to him his father's property and rights could
not melt him. That he was brave, generous, and possessed many good
qualities, only rendered him the more dangerous; that he was enlightened
and accomplished, made his crime the less excusable; that he was an
enthusiast in a wrong cause, only made him the more fit to be its
martyr. Above all, he had been the means of bringing many hundreds of
men into the field, who, without him, would never have broken the peace
of the country.

'I repeat it,' said the Colonel, 'though Heaven knows with a heart
distressed for him as an individual, that this young gentleman has
studied and fully understood the desperate game which he has played.
He threw for life or death, a coronet or a coffin; and he cannot now be
permitted, with justice to the country, to draw stakes because the dice
have gone against him.'

Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by brave and humane men
towards a vanquished enemy. Let us devoutly hope, that, in this respect
at least, we shall never see the scenes, or hold the sentiments, that
were general in Britain Sixty Years since.



CHAPTER LXVIII:

     To-morrow?  Oh that's sudden!  Spare him!  spare him!
     SHAKESPEARE.

Edward, attended by his former servant Alick Polwarth, who had
re-entered his service at Edinburgh, reached Carlisle while the
commission of Oyer and Terminer on his unfortunate associates was yet
sitting. He had pushed forward in haste,--not, alas! with the most
distant hope of saving Fergus, but to see him for the last time. I ought
to have mentioned, that he had furnished funds for the defence of the
prisoners in the most liberal manner, as soon as he heard that the day
of trial was fixed. A solicitor, and the first counsel, accordingly
attended; but it was upon the same footing on which the first physicians
are usually summoned to the bedside of some dying man of rank;--the
doctors to take the advantage of some incalculable chance of an exertion
of nature--the lawyers to avail themselves of the barely possible
occurrence of some legal flaw. Edward pressed into the court, which was
extremely crowded; but by his arriving from the north, and his extreme
eagerness and agitation, it was supposed he was a relation of the
prisoners, and people made way for him. It was the third sitting of
the court, and there were two men at the bar. The verdict of GUILTY was
already pronounced. Edward just glanced at the bar during the momentous
pause which ensued. There was no mistaking the stately form and noble
features of Fergus Mac-Ivor, although his dress was squalid, and
his countenance tinged with the sickly yellow hue of long and close
imprisonment. By his side was Evan Maccombich. Edward felt sick and
dizzy as he gazed on them; but he was recalled to himself as the
Clerk of the Arraigns pronounced the solemn words: 'Fergus Mac-Ivor of
Glennaquoich, otherwise called Vich Ian Vohr, and Evan Mac-Ivor, in the
Dhu of Tarrascleugh, otherwise called Evan Dhu, otherwise called
Evan Maccombich, or Evan Dhu Maccombich--you, and each of you, stand
attainted of high treason. What have you to say for yourselves why the
Court should not pronounce judgement against you, that you die according
to law?'

Fergus, as the presiding Judge was putting on the fatal cap of
judgement, placed his own bonnet upon his head, regarded him with a
steadfast and stern look, and replied in a firm voice, 'I cannot let
this numerous audience suppose that to such an appeal I have no answer
to make. But what I have to say, you would not bear to hear, for my
defence would be your condemnation. Proceed, then, in the name of God,
to do what is permitted to you. Yesterday, and the day before, you have
condemned loyal and honourable blood to be poured forth like water.
Spare not mine. Were that of all my ancestors in my veins, I would have
peril'd it in this quarrel.' He resumed his seat, and refused again to
rise.

Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnestness, and, rising
up, seemed anxious to speak; but the confusion of the court, and the
perplexity arising from thinking in a language different from that in
which he was to express himself, kept him silent. There was a murmur
of compassion among the spectators, from an idea that the poor fellow
intended to plead the influence of his superior as an excuse for his
crime. The Judge commanded silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed.

'I was only ganging to say, my lord,' said Evan, in what he meant to
be in an insinuating manner, 'that if your excellent honour, and the
honourable Court, would let Vich Ian Vohr go free just this once, and
let him gae back to France, and no to trouble King George's government
again, that ony six o' the very best of his clan will be willing to
be justified in his stead; and if you'll just let me gae down to
Glennaquoich, I'll fetch them up to ye mysel, to head or hang, and you
may begin wi' me the very first man.'

Notwithstanding the solemnity of the occasion, a sort of laugh was heard
in the court at the extraordinary nature of the proposal. The Judge
checked this indecency, and Evan, looking sternly around, when the
murmur abated, 'If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing,' he said, 'because
a poor man, such as me, thinks my life, or the life of six of my degree,
is worth that of Vich Ian Vohr, it's like enough they may be very right;
but if they laugh because they think I would not keep my word, and come
back to redeem him, I can tell them they ken neither the heart of a
Hielandman, nor the honour of a gentleman.'

There was no further inclination to laugh among the audience, and a dead
silence ensued.

The Judge then pronounced upon both prisoners the sentence of the law
of high treason, with all its horrible accompaniments. The execution was
appointed for the ensuing day. 'For you, Fergus Mac-Ivor,' continued
the Judge, 'I can hold out no hope of mercy. You must prepare
against to-morrow for your last sufferings here, and your great audit
hereafter.'

'I desire nothing else, my lord,' answered Fergus, in the same manly and
firm tone.

The hard eyes of Evan, which had been perpetually bent on his Chief,
were moistened with a tear. 'For you, poor ignorant man,' continued the
Judge, 'who, following the ideas in which you have been educated, have
this day given us a striking example how the loyalty due to the king
and state alone, is, from your unhappy ideas of clanship, transferred
to some ambitious individual, who ends by making you the tool of his
crimes--for you, I say, I feel so much compassion, that if you can make
up your mind to petition for grace, I will endeavour to procure if for
you. Otherwise--'

'Grace me no grace,' said Evan; 'since you are to shed Vich Ian Vohr's
blood, the only favour I would accept from you, is--to bid them loose my
hands and gie me my claymore, and bide you just a minute sitting where
you are!'

'Remove the prisoners,' said the Judge; 'his blood be upon his own
head.'

Almost stupefied with his feelings, Edward found that the rush of the
crowd had conveyed him out into the street, ere he knew what he was
doing.--His immediate wish was to see and speak with Fergus once more.
He applied at the Castle where his unfortunate friend was confined, but
was refused admittance. 'The High Sheriff,' a non-commissioned officer
said, 'had requested of the governor that none should be admitted to see
the prisoner excepting his confessor and his sister.'

'And where was Miss Mac-Ivor?' They gave him the direction, It was the
house of a respectable Catholic family near Carlisle.

Repulsed from the gate of the Castle, and not venturing to make
application to the High Sheriff or Judges in his own unpopular name,
he had recourse to the solicitor who came down in Fergus's behalf. This
gentleman told him, that it was thought the public mind was in danger of
being debauched by the account of the last moments of these persons, as
given by the friends of the Pretender; that there had been a resolution,
therefore, to exclude all such persons as had not the plea of near
kindred for attending upon them. Yet he promised (to oblige the heir of
Waverley-Honour) to get him an order for admittance to the prisoner the
next morning, before his irons were knocked off for execution.

'Is it of Fergus Mac-Ivor they speak thus,' thought Waverley 'or do I
dream? of Fergus, the bold, the chivalrous, the free-minded,--the lofty
chieftain of a tribe devoted to him? Is it he, that I have seen lead the
chase and head the attack,--the brave, the active, the young, the noble,
the love of ladies, and the theme of song,--is it he who is ironed like
a malefactor--who is to be dragged on a hurdle to the common gallows--to
die a lingering and cruel death, and to be mangled by the hand of the
most outcast of wretches? Evil indeed was the spectre that boded such a
fate as this to the brave Chief of Glennaquoich!'

With a faltering voice he requested the solicitor to find means to warn
Fergus of his intended visit, should he obtain permission to make it. He
then turned away from him, and, returning to the inn, wrote a scarcely
intelligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor, intimating his purpose to wait
upon her that evening. The messenger brought back a letter in Flora's
beautiful Italian hand, which seemed scarce to tremble even under this
load of misery. 'Miss Flora Mac-Ivor,' the letter bore, 'could not
refuse to see the dearest friend of her dear brother, even in her
present circumstances of unparalleled distress.'

When Edward reached Miss Mac-Ivor's present place of abode, he was
instantly admitted. In a large and gloomy tapestried apartment, Flora
was seated by a latticed window, sewing what seemed to be a garment of
white flannel. At a little distance sat an elderly woman, apparently
a foreigner, and of a religious order. She was reading in a book of
Catholic devotion; but when Waverley entered, laid it on the table and
left the room. Flora rose to receive him, and stretched out her hand,
but neither ventured to attempt speech. Her fine complexion was totally
gone; her person considerably emaciated; and her face and hands as white
as the purest statuary marble, forming a strong contrast with her sable
dress and jet-black hair. Yet, amid these marks of distress, there
was nothing negligent or ill-arranged about her attire; even her hair,
though totally without ornament, was disposed with her usual attention
to neatness. The first words she uttered were, 'Have you seen him?'

'Alas, no,' answered Waverley; 'I have been refused admittance.'

'It accords with the rest,' she said; 'but we must submit. Shall you
obtain leave, do you suppose?'

'For--for--to-morrow,' said Waverley; but muttering the last word so
faintly that it was almost unintelligible.

'Aye, then or never,' said Flora, 'until'--she added, looking upward,
'the time when, I trust, we shall all meet. But I hope you will see him
while earth yet bears him. He always loved you at his heart, though--but
it is vain to talk of the past.'

'Vain indeed!' echoed Waverley.

'Or even of the future, my good friend,' said Flora, 'so far as earthly
events are concerned; for how often have I pictured to myself the strong
possibility of this horrid issue, and tasked myself to consider how I
could support my part; and yet how far has all my anticipation fallen
short of the unimaginable bitterness of this hour!'

'Dear Flora, if your strength of mind'--

'Aye, there it is,' she answered, somewhat wildly; 'there is, Mr.
Waverley, there is a busy devil at my heart, that whispers--but it were
madness to listen to it--that the strength of mind on which Flora prided
herself has murdered her brother!'

'Good God! how can you give utterance to a thought so shocking?'

'Aye, is it not so?--but yet it haunts me like a phantom: I know it is
unsubstantial and vain; but it will be present--will intrude its horrors
on my mind--will whisper that my brother, as volatile as ardent, would
have divided his energies amid a hundred objects. It was I who taught
him to concentrate them, and to gage all on this dreadful and desperate
cast. Oh that I could recollect that I had but once said to him, "He
that striketh with the sword shall die by the sword"; that I had but
once said, Remain at home; reserve yourself, your vassals, your life,
for enterprises within the reach of man. But oh, Mr. Waverley, I spurred
his fiery temper, and half of his ruin at least lies with his sister.'

The horrid idea which she had intimated, Edward endeavoured to combat by
every incoherent argument that occurred to him. He recalled to her the
principles on which both thought it their duty to act, and in which they
had been educated.

'Do not think I have forgotten them,' she said, looking up, with eager
quickness; 'I do not regret his attempt, because it was wrong--oh no!
on that point I am armed--but because it was impossible it could end
otherwise than thus.'

'Yet it did not always seem so desperate and hazardous as it was; and
it would have been chosen by the bold spirit of Fergus, whether you
had approved it or no; your counsels only served to give unity and
consistence to his conduct; to dignify, but not to precipitate his
resolution.' Flora had soon ceased to listen to Edward, and was again
intent upon her needlework.

'Do you remember,' she said, looking up with a ghastly smile, 'you
once found me making Fergus's bride-favours, and now I am sewing his
bridal-garment. Our friends here,' she continued, with suppressed
emotion, 'are to give hallowed earth in their chapel to the bloody
relies of the last Vich Ian Vohr. But they will not all rest together;
no--his head!---I shall not have the last miserable consolation of
kissing the cold lips of my dear, dear Fergus!'

The unfortunate Flora here, after one or two hysterical sobs, fainted
in her chair. The lady, who had been attending in the ante-room, now
entered hastily, and begged Edward to leave the room, but not the house.

When he was recalled, after the space of nearly half an hour, he found
that, by a strong effort, Miss Mac-Ivor had greatly composed herself. It
was then he ventured to urge Miss Bradwardine's claim to be considered
as an adopted sister, and empowered to assist her plans for the future.

'I have had a letter from my dear Rose,' she replied, 'to the same
purpose. Sorrow is selfish and engrossing, or I would have written to
express that, even in my own despair, I felt a gleam of pleasure at
learning her happy prospects, and at hearing that the good old Baron has
escaped the general wreck. Give this to my dearest Rose; it is her poor
Flora's only ornament of value, and was the gift of a princess.' She put
into his hands a case containing the chain of diamonds with which she
used to decorate her hair. 'To me it is in future useless. The kindness
of my friends has secured me a retreat in the convent of the Scottish
Benedictine nuns in Paris. To-morrow--if indeed I can survive
to-morrow--I set forward on my journey with this venerable sister. And
now, Mr. Waverley, adieu! May you be as happy with Rose as your amiable
dispositions deserve!--and think sometimes on the friends you have lost.
Do not attempt to see me again; it would be mistaken kindness.'

She gave him her hand, on which Edward shed a torrent of tears, and,
with a faltering step, withdrew from the apartment, and returned to
the town of Carlisle. At the inn he found a letter from his law friend,
intimating that he would be admitted to Fergus next morning as soon as
the Castle gates were opened, and permitted to remain with him till the
arrival of the Sheriff gave signal for the fatal procession.



CHAPTER LXIX

     --A darker departure is near,
     The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier.
     CAMPBELL.

After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley on
the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle Castle. But he
paced it long in every direction, before the hour when, according to the
rules of the garrison, the gates were opened and the drawbridge lowered.
He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted.

The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment
in the central part of the Castle--a huge old tower, supposed to be of
great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII's
time, or somewhat later. The grating of the large old-fashioned bars and
bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by
the clash of chains, as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily
fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself
into his friend's arms.

'My dear Edward,' he said, in a firm, and even cheerful voice, 'this
is truly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with the highest
pleasure. And how does Rose? and how is our old whimsical friend the
Baron? Well, I trust, since I see you at freedom--And how will you
settle precedence between the three ermines passant and the bear and
bootjack?'

'How, oh how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such a
moment!'

'Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure--on the
16th of November last, for example, when we marched in, side by side,
and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. But I am no boy, to
sit down and weep because the luck has gone against me. I knew the stake
which I risked; we played the game boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid
manfully. And now, since my time is short, let me come to the questions
that interest me most--The Prince? has he escaped the bloodhounds?'

'He has, and is in safety.'

'Praised be God for that! Tell me the particulars of his escape.'

Waverley communicated that remarkable history, so far as it had then
transpired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest. He then asked
after several other friends; and made many minute inquiries concerning
the fate of his own clansmen. They had suffered less than other tribes
who had been engaged in the affair; for, having in a great measure
dispersed and returned home after the captivity of their Chieftain,
according to the universal custom of the Highlanders, they were not in
arms when the insurrection was finally suppressed, and consequently were
treated with less rigour. This Fergus heard with great satisfaction.

'You are rich,' he said, 'Waverley, and you are generous. When you
hear of these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed about their miserable
possessions by some harsh overseer or agent of Government, remember you
have worn their tartan, and are an adopted son of their race. The Baron,
who knows our manners, and lives near our country, will apprize you of
the time and means to be their protector. Will you promise this to the
last Vich Ian Vohr?'

Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which he afterwards
so amply redeemed, that his memory still lives in these glens by the
name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.

'Would to God,' continued the Chieftain, 'I could bequeath to you my
rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave race:--or
at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan to accept of
his life upon their terms, and be to you what he has been to me, the
kindest,--the bravest,--the most devoted--'

The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for that of
his foster-brother.

'But,' said he, drying them, 'that cannot be. You cannot be to them Vich
Ian Vohr; and these three magic words,' said he, half smiling, 'are the
only Open Sesame to their feelings and sympathies, and poor Evan must
attend his foster-brother in death, as he has done through his whole
life.'

'And I am sure,' said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor, on
which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had lain so
still, that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward was not aware of
his presence,--'I am sure Evan never desired or deserved a better end
than just to die with his Chieftain.'

'And now,' said Fergus, 'while we are upon the subject of clanship--what
think you now of the prediction of the Bodach Glas?'--Then, before
Edward could answer, 'I saw him again last night--he stood in the slip
of moonshine, which fell from that high and narrow window towards my
bed. Why should I fear him, I thought--to-morrow, long ere this time, I
shall be as immaterial as he. "False Spirit!" I said, "art thou come to
close thy walks on earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the
last descendant of thine enemy?" The spectre seemed to beckon and to
smile as he faded from my sight. What do you think of it?--I asked the
same question of the priest, who is a good and sensible man; he admitted
that the Church allowed that such apparitions were possible, but urged
me not to permit my mind to dwell upon it, as imagination plays us such
strange tricks. What do you think of it?'

'Much as your confessor,' said Waverley, willing to avoid dispute upon
such a point at such a moment. A tap at the door now announced that good
man, and Edward retired while he administered to both prisoners the last
rites of religion, in the mode which the Church of Rome prescribes.

In about an hour he was re-admitted; soon after, a file of soldiers
entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from the legs of the
prisoners.

'You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and
courage--we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our legs are
cramped into palsy, and when they free us, they send six soldiers with
loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle by storm!'

Edward afterwards learned that these severe precautions had been taken
in consequence of a desperate attempt of the prisoners to escape, in
which they had very nearly succeeded.

Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to arms. 'This is the
last turn-out,' said Fergus, 'that I shall hear and obey. And now, my
dear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak of Flora--a subject which
awakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrills within me.'

'We part not here!' said Waverley.

'Oh yes, we do; you must come no farther. Not that I fear what is to
follow for myself,' he said proudly: 'Nature has her tortures as well as
art; and how happy should we think the man who escapes from the throes
of a mortal and painful disorder, in the space of a short half hour? And
this matter, spin it out as they will, cannot last longer, But what
a dying man can suffer firmly, may kill a living friend to look
upon.--This same law of high treason,' he continued, with astonishing
firmness and composure, 'is one of the blessings, Edward, with
which your free country has accommodated poor old Scotland: her own
jurisprudence, as I have heard, was much milder. But I suppose one day
or other--when there are no longer any wild Highlanders to benefit by
its tender mercies--they will blot it from their records, as levelling
them with a nation of cannibals. The mummery, too, of exposing the
senseless head--they have not the wit to grace mine with a paper
coronet; there would be some satire in that, Edward. I hope they will
set it on the Scotch gate though, that I may look, even after death,
to the blue hills of my own country, which I love so dearly. The Baron
would have added,

MORITUR, ET MORIENS DULCES REMINISCITUR ARGOS.'

A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heard in the
courtyard of the Castle. 'As I have told you why you must not follow me,
and these sounds admonish me that my time flies fast, tell me how you
found poor Flora?'

Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sensations, gave some
account of the state of her mind.

'Poor Flora!' answered the Chief, 'she could have borne her own sentence
of death, but not mine. You, Waverley, will soon know the happiness of
mutual affection in the married state--long, long may Rose and you enjoy
it!--but you can never know the purity of feeling which combines two
orphans, like Flora and me, left alone as it were in the world, and
being all in all to each other from our very infancy. But her strong
sense of duty, and predominant feeling of loyalty, will give new nerve
to her mind after the immediate and acute sensation of this parting has
passed away. She will then think of Fergus as of the heroes of our race,
upon whose deeds she loved to dwell.'

'Shall she not see you, then?' asked Waverley. 'She seemed to expect
it.'

'A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful parting. I could
not part with her without tears, and I cannot bear that these men should
think they have power to extort them. She was made to believe she
would see me at a later hour, and this letter, which my confessor will
deliver, will apprize her that all is over.'

An officer now appeared, and intimated that the High Sheriff and his
attendants waited before the gate of the Castle, to claim the bodies of
Fergus Mac-Ivor and Evan Maccombich. 'I come,' said Fergus. Accordingly,
supporting Edward by the arm, and followed by Evan Dhu and the priest,
he moved down the stairs of the tower, the soldiers bringing up the
rear. The court was occupied by a squadron of dragoons and a battalion
of infantry, drawn up in hollow square. Within their ranks was the
sledge, or hurdle, on which the prisoners were to be drawn to the place
of execution, about a mile distant from Carlisle. It was painted
black, and drawn by a white horse. At one end of the vehicle sat the
Executioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade, with the
broad axe in his hand; at the other end, next the horse, was an empty
seat for two persons. Through the deep and dark Gothic archway that
opened on the drawbridge, were seen on horseback the High Sheriff and
his attendants, whom the etiquette betwixt the civil and military powers
did not permit to come farther. 'This is well GOT UP for a closing
scene,' said Fergus, smiling disdainfully as he gazed around upon the
apparatus of terror. Evan Dhu exclaimed with some eagerness, after
looking at the dragoons, 'These are the very chields that galloped
off at Gladsmuir, before we could kill a dozen o' them. They look bold
enough now, however.' The priest entreated him to be silent.

The sledge now approached, and Fergus, turning round, embraced Waverley,
kissed him on each side of the face, and stepped nimbly into his place.
Evan sat down by his side. The priest was to follow in a carriage
belonging to his patron, the Catholic gentleman at whose house Flora
resided. As Fergus waved his hand to Edward, the ranks closed around
the sledge, and the whole procession began to move forward. There was a
momentary stop at the gateway, while the governor of the Castle and the
High Sheriff went through a short ceremony, the military officer there
delivering over the persons of the criminals to the civil power. 'God
save King George!' said the High Sheriff. When the formality concluded,
Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and with a firm and steady voice,
replied, 'God save King James!' These were the last words which Waverley
heard him speak.

The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished from beneath
the portal, under which it had stopped for an instant. The dead-march
was then heard, and its melancholy sounds were mingled with those of a
muffled peal, tolled from the neighbouring cathedral. The sound of the
military music died away as the procession moved on--the sullen clang of
the bells was soon heard to sound alone.

The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under the vaulted
archway through which they had been filing for several minutes; the
courtyard was now totally empty, but Waverley still stood there as if
stupefied, his eyes fixed upon the dark pass where he had so lately
seen the last glimpse of his friend. At length, a female servant of the
governor's, struck with compassion at the stupefied misery which his
countenance expressed, asked him if he would not walk into her master's
house and sit down? She was obliged to repeat her question twice ere he
comprehended her, but at length it recalled him to himself. Declining
the courtesy by a hasty gesture, he pulled his hat over his eyes, and,
leaving the Castle, walked as swiftly as he could through the empty
streets, till he regained his inn, then rushed into an apartment, and
bolted the door.

In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterable
suspense, the sound of the drums and fifes, performing a lively air, and
the confused murmur of the crowd which now filled the streets, so lately
deserted, apprized him that all was finished, and that the military and
populace were returning from the dreadful scene. I will not attempt to
describe his sensations.

In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him that he
did so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him that Fergus
Mac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered his friendship to the
last. He added, he had also seen Flora, whose state of mind seemed more
composed since all was over. With her and Sister Theresa, the priest
proposed next day to leave Carlisle, for the nearest seaport from which
they could embark for France. Waverley forced on this good man a ring
of some value, and a sum of money to be employed (as he thought might
gratify Flora) in the services of the Catholic Church, for the memory of
his friend. 'FUNGARQUE INANI MUNERE,' he repeated, as the ecclesiastic
retired. 'Yet why not class these acts of remembrance with other
honours, with which affection, in all sects, pursues the memory of the
dead?'

The next morning, ere daylight, he took leave of the town of Carlisle,
promising to himself never again to enter its walls. He dared hardly
look back towards the Gothic battlements of the fortified gate under
which he passed (for the place is surrounded with an old wall). 'They're
no there,' said Alick Polwarth, who guessed the cause of the dubious
look which Waverley cast backward, and who, with the vulgar appetite for
the horrible, was master of each detail of the butchery--'the heads are
ower the Scotch yate, as they ca' it. It's a great pity of Evan Dhu,
who was a very weel-meaning, good-natured man, to be a Hielandman; and
indeed so was the Laird o' Glennaquoich too, for that matter, when he
wasna in ane o' his tirrivies.



CHAPTER LXX

DOLCE DOMUM

The impression of horror with which Waverley left Carlisle softened
by degrees into melancholy--a gradation which was accelerated by the
painful, yet soothing, task of writing to Rose; and, while he could not
suppress his own feelings of the calamity, he endeavoured to place it
in a light which might grieve her without shocking her imagination. The
picture which he drew for her benefit he gradually familiarized to his
own mind; and his next letters were more cheerful, and referred to the
prospects of peace and happiness which lay before them. Yet, though his
first horrible sensations had sunk into melancholy, Edward had reached
his native county before he could, as usual on former occasions, look
round for enjoyment upon the face of nature.

He then, for the first time since leaving Edinburgh, began to experience
that pleasure which almost all feel who return to a verdant, populous,
and highly cultivated country, from scenes of waste desolation, or of
solitary and melancholy grandeur. But how were those feelings enhanced
when he entered on the domain so long possessed by his forefathers;
recognized the old oaks of Waverley-Chase; thought with what delight he
should introduce Rose to all his favourite haunts; beheld at length the
towers of the venerable hall arise above the woods which embowered it,
and finally threw himself into the arms of the venerable relations to
whom he owed so much duty and affection!

The happiness of their meeting was not tarnished by a single word of
reproach. On the contrary, whatever pain Sir Everard and Mrs. Rachel had
felt during Waverley's perilous engagement with the young Chevalier, it
assorted too well with the principles in which they had been brought up,
to incur reprobation, or even censure. Colonel Talbot also had smoothed
the way, with great address, for Edward's favourable reception,
by dwelling upon his gallant behaviour in the military character,
particularly his bravery and generosity at Preston; until, warmed at the
idea of their nephew's engaging in single combat, making prisoner,
and saving from slaughter, so distinguished an officer as the Colonel
himself, the imagination of the Baronet and his sister ranked the
exploits of Edward with those of Wilibert, Hildebrand, and Nigel, the
vaunted heroes of their line.

The appearance of Waverley, embrowned by exercise, and dignified by
the habits of military discipline, had acquired an athletic and
hardy character, which not only verified the Colonel's narration, but
surprised and delighted all the inhabitants of Waverley-Honour. They
crowded to see, to hear him, and to sing his praises. Mr. Pembroke, who
secretly extolled his spirit and courage in embracing the genuine cause
of the Church of England, censured his pupil gently, nevertheless,
for being so careless of his manuscripts, which indeed, he said, had
occasioned him some personal inconvenience, as, upon the Baronet's being
arrested by a king's messenger, he had deemed it prudent to retire to a
concealment called 'The Priest's Hole,' from the use it had been put to
in former days; where, he assured our hero, the butler had thought it
safe to venture with food only once in the day, so that he had been
repeatedly compelled to dine upon victuals either absolutely cold, or,
what was worse, only half warm, not to mention that sometimes his
bed had not been arranged for two days together. Waverley's mind
involuntarily turned to the Patmos of the Baron of Bradwardine, who was
well pleased with Janet's fare, and a few bunches of straw stowed in
a cleft in the front of a sand-cliff: but he made no remarks upon a
contrast which could only mortify his worthy tutor.

All was now in a bustle to prepare for the nuptials of Edward, an event
to which the good old Baronet and Mrs. Rachel looked forward as if
to the renewal of their own youth. The match, as Colonel Talbot had
intimated, had seemed to them in the highest degree eligible, having
every recommendation but wealth, of which they themselves had more than
enough. Mr. Clippurse was therefore summoned to Waverley-Honour, under
better auspices than at the commencement of our story. But Mr. Clippurse
came not alone; for, being now stricken in years, he had associated with
him a nephew, a younger vulture (as our English Juvenal, who tells
the tale of Swallow the attorney, might have called him), and they
now carried on business as Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem. These worthy
gentlemen had directions to make the necessary settlements on the most
splendid scale of liberality, as if Edward were to wed a peeress in her
own right, with her paternal estate tacked to the fringe of her ermine.

But before entering upon a subject of proverbial delay, I must remind my
reader of the progress of a stone rolled down hill by an idle truant boy
(a pastime at which I was myself expert in my more juvenile years):
it moves at first slowly, avoiding by inflection every obstacle of the
least importance; but when it has attained its full impulse, and draws
near the conclusion of its career, it smokes and thunders down, taking
a rood at every spring, clearing hedge and ditch like a Yorkshire
huntsman, and becoming most furiously rapid in its course when it is
nearest to being consigned to rest for ever. Even such is the course
of a narrative like that which you are perusing. The earlier events are
studiously dwelt upon, that you, kind reader, may be introduced to
the character rather by narrative, than by the duller medium of direct
description; but when the story draws near its close, we hurry over
the circumstances, however important, which your imagination must have
forestalled, and leave you to suppose those things which it would be
abusing your patience to relate at length.

We are, therefore, so far from attempting to trace the dull progress of
Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem, or that of their worthy official brethren,
who had the charge of suing out the pardons of Edward Waverley and
his intended father-in-law, that we can but touch upon matters more
attractive. The mutual epistles, for example, which were exchanged
between Sir Everard and the Baron upon this occasion, though matchless
specimens of eloquence in their way, must be consigned to merciless
oblivion. Nor can I tell you at length, how worthy Aunt Rachel, not
without a delicate and affectionate allusion to the circumstances which
had transferred Rose's maternal diamonds to the hands of Donald Bean
Lean, stocked her casket with a set of jewels that a duchess might have
envied. Moreover, the reader will have the goodness to imagine that Job
Houghton and his dame were suitably provided for, although they could
never be persuaded that their son fell otherwise than fighting by the
young squire's side; so that Alick, who, as a lover of truth, had made
many needless attempts to expound the real circumstances to them, was
finally ordered to say not a word more upon the subject. He indemnified
himself, however, by the liberal allowance of desperate battles,
grisly executions, and rawhead and bloody-bone stories, with which he
astonished the servants' hall.

But although these important matters may be briefly told in narrative,
like a newspaper report of a Chancery suit, yet, with all the urgency
which Waverley could use, the real time which the law proceedings
occupied, joined to the delay occasioned by the mode of travelling at
that period, rendered it considerably more than two months ere Waverley,
having left England, alighted once more at the mansion of the Laird of
Duchran to claim the hand of his plighted bride.

The day of his marriage was fixed for the sixth after his arrival. The
Baron of Bradwardine, with whom bridals, christenings, and funerals,
were festivals of high and solemn import, felt a little hurt, that,
including the family of the Duchran, and all the immediate vicinity who
had title to be present on such an occasion, there could not be above
thirty persons collected. 'When he was married,' he observed, 'three
hundred horse of gentlemen born, besides servants, and some score or
two of Highland lairds, who never got on horseback, were present on the
occasion.'

But his pride found some consolation in reflecting, that he and his
son-in-law having been so lately in arms against Government, it, might
give matter of reasonable fear and offence to the ruling powers, if
they were to collect together the kith, kin, and allies of their houses,
arrayed in effeir of war, as was the ancient custom of Scotland on these
occasions--'And, without dubitation,' he concluded with a sigh, 'many of
those who would have rejoiced most freely upon these joyful espousals,
are either gone to a better place, or are now exiles from their native
land.'

The marriage took place on the appointed day. The Reverend Mr. Rubrick,
kinsman to the proprietor of the hospitable mansion where it was
solemnized, and chaplain to the Baron of Bradwardine, had the
satisfaction to unite their hands; and Frank Stanley acted as bridesman,
having joined Edward with that view soon after his arrival. Lady Emily
and Colonel Talbot had proposed being present; but Lady Emily's health,
when the day approached, was found inadequate to the journey. In amends,
it was arranged that Edward Waverley and his lady, who, with the Baron,
proposed an immediate journey to Waverley-Honour, should, in their way,
spend a few days at an estate which Colonel Talbot had been tempted to
purchase in Scotland as a very great bargain, and at which he proposed
to reside for some time.



CHAPTER LXXI

     This is no mine ain house, I ken by the bigging o't'.
     --OLD SONG.

The nuptial party travelled in great style. There was a coach and six
after the newest pattern, which Sir Everard had presented to his nephew,
that dazzled with its splendour the eyes of one half of Scotland; there
was the family coach of Mr. Rubrick;--both these were crowded with
ladies, and there were gentlemen on horseback, with their servants, to
the number of a round score. Nevertheless, without having the fear
of famine before his eyes, Bailie Macwheeble met them in the road, to
entreat that they would pass by his house at Little Veolan. The Baron
stared, and said his son and he would certainly ride by Little Veolan,
and pay their compliments to the Bailie, but could not think of bringing
with them the 'haill COMITATUS NUPTIALIS, or matrimonial procession.'
He added, 'that, as he understood that the barony had been sold by
its unworthy possessor, he was glad to see his old friend Duncan had
regained his situation under the new DOMINUS, or proprietor.' The
Bailie ducked, bowed, and fidgeted, and then again insisted upon his
invitation; until the Baron, though rather piqued at the pertinacity of
his instances, could not nevertheless refuse to consent, without making
evident sensations which he was anxious to conceal.

He fell into a deep study as they approached the top of the avenue,
and was only startled from it by observing that the battlements were
replaced, the ruins cleared sway, and (most wonderful of all) that
the two great stone Bears, those mutilated Dagons of his idolatry, had
resumed their posts over the gateway. 'Now this new proprietor,' said he
to Edward, 'has shown mair gusto, as the Italians call it, in the short
time he has had this domain, than that hound Malcolm, though I bred him
here mysell, has acquired VITA ADHUC DURANTE.--and now I talk of hounds,
is not yon Ban and Buscar, who come scouping up the avenue with Davie
Gallatley?'

'I vote we should go to meet them, sir,' said Waverley, 'for I believe
the present master of the house is Colonel Talbot, who will expect to
see us. We hesitated to mention to you at first that he had purchased
your ancient patrimonial property, and even yet, if you do not incline
to visit him, we can pass on to the Bailie's.'

The Baron had occasion for all his magnanimity. However, he drew a long
breath, took a long snuff, and observed, since they had brought him so
far, he could not pass the Colonel's gate, and he would be happy to see
the new master of his old tenants. He alighted accordingly, as did the
other gentlemen and ladies;--he gave his arm to his daughter, and as
they descended the avenue, pointed out to her how speedily the 'DIVA
PECUNIA of the Southron--their tutelary deity, he might call her--had
removed the marks of spoliation.'

In truth, not only had the felled trees been removed, but, their stumps
being grubbed up, and the earth round them levelled and sown with grass,
every mark of devastation, unless to an eye intimately acquainted
with the spot, was already totally obliterated. There was a similar
reformation in the outward man of Davie Gellatley, who met them, every
now and then stopping to admire the new suit which graced his person, In
the same colours as formerly, but bedizened fine enough to have served
Touchstone himself. He danced up with his usual ungainly frolics, first
to the Baron, and then to Rose, passing his hands over his clothes,
crying, 'BRA', BRA' DAVIE,' and scarce able to sing a bar to an end of
his thousand-and-one songs, for the breathless extravagance of his joy.
The dogs also acknowledged their old master with a thousand gambols.
'Upon my conscience, Rose,' ejaculated the Baron, 'the gratitude o' thae
dumb brutes, and of that puir innocent, brings the tears into my auld
een, while that schellum Malcolm--but I'm obliged to Colonel Talbot for
putting my hounds into such good condition, and likewise for puir Davie.
But, Rose, my dear, we must not permit them to be a liferent burden upon
the estate.'

As he spoke, Lady Emily, leaning upon the arm of her husband, met the
party at the lower gate, with a thousand welcomes. After the ceremony
of introduction had been gone through, much abridged by the ease and
excellent breeding of Lady Emily, she apologized for having used a
little art to wile them back to a place which might awaken some painful
reflections--'But as it was to change masters, we were very desirous
that the Baron'--

'Mr. Bradwardine, madam, if you please,' said the old gentleman.

'--Mr. Bradwardine, then, and Mr. Waverley, should see what we have done
towards restoring the mansion of your fathers to its former state.'

The Baron answered with a low bow. Indeed, when he entered the court,
excepting that the heavy stables, which had been burnt down, were
replaced by buildings of a lighter and more picturesque appearance, all
seemed as much as possible restored to the state in which he had left
it when he assumed arms some months before. The pigeon-house was
replenished; the fountain played with its usual activity; and not
only the Bear who predominated over its basin, but all the other Bears
whatsoever, were replaced on their several stations, and renewed or
repaired with so much care, that they bore no tokens of the violence
which had so lately descended upon them. While these minutiae had been
so heedfully attended to, it is scarce necessary to add, that the house
itself had been thoroughly repaired, as well as the gardens, with the
strictest attention to maintain the original character of both, and
to remove, as far as possible, all appearance of the ravage they had
sustained. The Baron gazed in silent wonder; at length he addressed
Colonel Talbot:

'While I acknowledge my obligation to you, sir, for the restoration
of the badge of our family, I cannot but marvel that you have nowhere
established your own crest, whilk is, I believe, a mastiff, anciently
called a talbot; as the poet has it,

A talbot strong--a sturdy tyke.

At least such a dog is the crest of the martial and renowned Earls of
Shrewsbury, to whom your family are probably blood relations.'

'I believe,' said the Colonel, smiling, 'our dogs are whelps of the same
litter: for my part, if crests were to dispute precedence, I should be
apt to let them, as the proverb says, "fight dog, fight bear."'

As he made this speech, at which the Baron took another long pinch of
snuff, they had entered the house--that is, the Baron, Rose, and Lady
Emily, with young Stanley and the Bailie, for Edward and the rest of the
party remained on the terrace, to examine a new greenhouse stocked with
the finest plants. The Baron resumed his favourite topic: 'However it
may please you to derogate from the honour of your burgonet, Colonel
Talbot, which is doubtless your humour, as I have seen in other
gentlemen of birth and honour in your country, I must again repeat it
as a most ancient and distinguished bearing, as well as that of my young
friend Francis Stanley, which is the eagle and child.'

'The bird and bantling they call it in Derbyshire, sir,' said Stanley.

'Ye're a daft callant, sir,' said the Baron, who had a great liking to
this young man, perhaps because he sometimes teased him--'Ye're a daft
callant, and I must correct you some of these days,' shaking his great
brown fist at him. 'But what I meant to say, Colonel Talbot, is, that
yours is an ancient PROSAPIA, or descent, and since you have lawfully
and justly acquired the estate for you and yours, which I have lost for
me and mine, I wish it may remain in your name as many centuries as it
has done in that of the late proprietor's.'

'That,' answered the Colonel, 'is very handsome, Mr. Bradwardine,
indeed.'

'And yet, sir, I cannot but marvel that you, Colonel, whom I noted to
have so much of the AMOR PATRIAE, when we met in Edinburgh, as even to
vilipend other countries, should have chosen to establish your Lares, or
household gods, PROCUL A PATRIEA FINIBUS, and in a manner to expatriate
yourself.'

'Why really, Baron, I do not see why, to keep the secret of these
foolish boys, Waverley and Stanley, and of my wife, who is no wiser, one
old soldier should continue to impose upon another. You must know,
then, that I have so much of that same prejudice in favour of my native
country, that the sum of money which I advanced to the seller of this
extensive barony has only purchased for me a box in --shire, called
Brerewood Lodge, with about two hundred and fifty acres of land,
the chief merit of which is, that it is within a very few miles of
Waverley-Honour.'

'And who, then, in the name of Haven, has bought this property?'

'That,' said the Colonel,' it is this gentleman's profession to
explain.'

The Bailie, whom this reference regarded, and who had all this while
shifted from one foot to another with great impatience, 'like a hen,'
as he afterwards said, 'upon a het girdle'; and chuckling, he might have
added, like the said hen in all the glory of laying an egg--now pushed
forward: 'That I can, that I can, your Honour,' drawing from his pocket
a budget of papers, and untying the red tape with a hand trembling
with eagerness. 'Here is the disposition and assignation, by Malcolm
Bradwardine of Inch-Grabbit, regularly signed and tested in terms of
the statute, whereby, for a certain sum of sterling money presently
contented and paid to him, he has disponed, alienated, and conveyed the
whole estate and barony of Bradwardine, Tully-Veolan, and others, with
the fortalice and manor-place--'

'For God's sake, to the point, sir--I have all that by heart,' said the
Colonel.

'To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq.' pursued the Bailie, 'his heirs and
assignees, simply and irredeemably--to be held either A ME VEL DE ME--'

'Pray read short, sir.'

'On the conscience of an honest man, Colonel, I read as short as is
consistent with style.--Under the burden and reservation always--

'Mr. Macwheeble, this would outlast a Russian winter--give me leave. In
short, Mr. Bradwardine, your family estate is your own once more in full
property, and at your absolute disposal, but only burdened with the sum
advanced to repurchase it, which I understand is utterly disproportioned
to its value.

'An auld sang--an auld sang, if it please your Honours,' cried the
Bailie, rubbing his hands; 'look at the rental book.'

'Which sum being advanced by Mr. Edward Waverley, chiefly from the price
of his father's property which I bought from him, is secured to his lady
your daughter, and her family by this marriage.'

'It is a catholic security,' shouted the Bailie, 'to Rose Comyne
Bradwardine, ALIAS Wauverley, in liferent, and the children of the
said marriage in fee; and I made up a wee bit minute of an ante-nuptial
contract, INTUITU MATRIMONII, so it cannot be subject to reduction
hereafter, as a donation INTER VIRUM ET UXOREM.'

It is difficult to say whether the worthy Baron was most delighted
with the restitution of his family property, or with the delicacy and
generosity that left him unfettered to pursue his purpose in disposing
of it after his death, and which avoided, as much as possible, even
the appearance of laying him under pecuniary obligation. When his first
pause of joy and astonishment was over, his thoughts turned to the
unworthy heir-male, who, he pronounced, 'had sold his birthright, like
Esau, for a mess o' pottage.'

'But wha cookit the parritch for him?' exclaimed the Bailie; 'I wad like
to ken that--wha but your Honour's to command, Duncan Macwheeble?
His Honour, young Mr. Wauverley, put it a' into my hand frae the
beginning--frae the first calling o' the summons, as I may say. I
circumvented them--I played at bogle about the bush wi' them--I cajoled
them; and if I havena gien Inch-Grabbit and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk,
they ken themselves. Him a writer! I didna gea slapdash to them wi' our
young bra' bridegroom, to gar them haud up the market; na, na; I scared
them wi' our wild tenantry, and the Mac-Ivors, that are but ill settled
yet, till they durstna on ony errand whatsoever gang ower the
doorstane after gloaming, for fear John Heatherblutter, or some siccan
dare-the-deil, should tak a baff at them: then, on the other hand, I
beflumm'd them wi' Colonel Talbot--wad they offer to keep up the price
again' the Duke's friend? did they na ken wha was master? had they na
seen eneugh, by the sad example of mony a puir misguided unhappy body--'

'Who went to Derby, for example, Mr. Macwheeble?' said the Colonel to
him, aside.

'Oh' whisht, Colonel, for the love o' God! let that flee stick i'
the wa'. There were mony good folk at Derby; and it's ill speaking of
halters,'--with a sly cast of his eye toward the Baron, who was in a
deep reverie.

Starting out of it at once, he took Macwheeble by the button, and led
him into one of the deep window recesses, whence only fragments of their
conversation reached the rest of the party. It certainly related to
stamp-paper and parchment; for no other subject, even from the mouth of
his patron, and he, once more an efficient one, could have arrested so
deeply the Bailie's reverent and absorbed attention.

'I understand your Honour perfectly; it can be dune as easy as taking
out a decreet in absence.'

'To her and him, after my demise, and to their heirs-male,--but
preferring the second son, if God shall bless them with two, who is to
carry the name and arms of Bradwardine of that Ilk, without any other
name or armorial bearings whatsoever.'

'Tut, your Honour!' whispered the Bailie, 'I'll mak a slight jotting the
morn; it will cost but a charter of resignation IN FAVOREM; and I'll hae
it ready for the next term in Exchequer.

Their private conversation ended, the Baron was now summoned to do the
honours of Tully-Veolan to new guests. These were, Major Melville of
Cairnvreckan, and the Reverend Mr. Morton, followed by two or three
others of the Baron's acquaintances, who had been made privy to his
having again acquired the estate of his fathers. The shouts of the
villagers were also heard beneath in the courtyard; for Saunders
Saunderson, who had kept the secret for several days with laudable
prudence, had unloosed his tongue upon beholding the arrival of the
carriages.

But, while Edward received Major Melville with politeness, and the
clergyman with the most affectionate and grateful kindness, his
father-in-law looked a little awkward, as uncertain how he should answer
the necessary claims of hospitality to his guests, and forward the
festivity of his tenants. Lady Emily relieved him, by intimating, that,
though she must be an indifferent representative of Mrs. Edward Waverley
in many respects, she hoped the Baron would approve of the entertainment
she had ordered, in expectation of so many guests; and that they would
find such other accommodations provided, as might in some degree support
the ancient hospitality of Tully-Veolan. It is impossible to describe
the pleasure which this assurance gave the Baron, who, with an air of
gallantry half appertaining to the stiff Scottish laird, and half to the
officer in the French service, offered his arm to the fair speaker, and
led the way, in something between a stride and a minuet step, into the
large dining parlour, followed by all the rest of the good company.

By dint of Saunderson's directions and exertions, all here, as well as
in the other apartments, had been disposed as much as possible according
to the old arrangement; and where new movables had been necessary, they
had been selected in the same character with the old furniture, There
was one addition to this fine old apartment, however, which drew
tears into the Baron's eyes. It was a large and spirited painting,
representing Fergus Mac-Ivor and Waverley in their Highland dress; the
scene a wild, rocky, and mountainous pass, down which the clan were
descending in the background. It was taken from a spirited sketch, drawn
while they were in Edinburgh by a young man of high genius, and had
been painted on a full-length scale by an eminent London artist. Raeburn
himself (whose Highland chiefs do all but walk out of the canvas) could
not have done more justice to the subject; and the ardent, fiery, and
impetuous character of the unfortunate Chief of Glennaquoich was finely
contrasted with the contemplative, fanciful, and enthusiastic expression
of his happier friend. Beside this painting hung the arms which Waverley
had borne in the unfortunate civil war; The whole piece was beheld with
admiration, and deeper feelings.

Men must, however, eat, in spite both of sentiment and vertu; and the
Baron, while he assumed the lower end of the table, insisted that Lady
Emily should do the honours of the head, that they might, he said, set a
meet example to the YOUNG FOLK. After a pause of deliberation, employed
in adjusting in his own brain the precedence between the Presbyterian
kirk and Episcopal church of Scotland, he requested Mr. Morton, as the
stranger, would crave a blessing,--observing, that Mr. Rubrick, who was
at home, would return thanks for the distinguished mercies it had been
his lot to experience. The dinner was excellent. Saunderson attended
in full costume, with all the former domestics, who had been collected,
excepting one or two, that had not been heard of since the affair of
Culloden. The cellars were stocked with wine which was pronounced to be
superb, and it had been contrived that the Bear of the Fountain, in the
courtyard, should (for that night only) play excellent brandy punch for
the benefit of the lower orders.

When the dinner was over, the Baron, about to propose a toast, cast a
somewhat sorrowful look upon the sideboard,--which, however, exhibited
much of his plate, that had either been secreted or purchased by
neighbouring gentlemen from the soldiery, and by them gladly restored to
the original owner.

'In the late times,' he said, 'those must be thankful who have saved
life and land; yet, when I am about to pronounce this toast, I cannot
but regret an old heirloom, Lady Emily--A POCULUM POTATORIUM, Colonel
Talbot'--

Here the Baron's elbow was gently touched by his major-demo, and,
turning round, he beheld, in the hands of Alexander ab Alexandro, the
celebrated cup of Saint Duthac, the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine! I
question if the recovery of his estate afforded him more rapture. 'By
my honour,' he said, 'one might almost believe in brownies and fairies,
Lady Emily, when your ladyship is in presence!'

'I am truly happy,' said Colonel Talbot, 'that by the recovery of this
piece of family antiquity, it has fallen within my power to give you
some token of my deep interest in all that concerns my young friend
Edward. But that you may not suspect Lady Emily for a sorceress, or me
for a conjurer, which is no joke in Scotland, I must tell you that Frank
Stanley, your friend, who has been seized with a tartan fever ever since
he heard Edward's tales of old Scottish manners, happened to describe to
us at second hand this remarkable cup. My servant, Spontoon, who, like
a true old soldier, observes everything and says little, gave me
afterwards to understand that he thought he had seen the piece of plate
Mr. Stanley mentioned, in the possession of a certain Mrs. Nosebag,
who, having been originally the helpmate of a pawnbroker, had found
opportunity, during the late unpleasant scenes in Scotland, to trade
a little in her old line, and so became the depositary of the more
valuable part of the spoil of half the army. You may believe the cup was
speedily recovered; and it will give me very great pleasure if you allow
me to suppose that its value is not diminished by having been restored
through my means.'

A tear mingled with the wine which the Baron filled, as he proposed a
cup of gratitude to Colonel Talbot, and 'The Prosperity of the united
Houses of Waverley-Honour and Bradwardine!'--

It only remains for me to say, that as no wish was ever uttered with
more affectionate sincerity, there are few which, allowing for the
necessary mutability of human events, have been, upon the whole, more
happily fulfilled.



CHAPTER LXXII

A POSTSCRIPT, WHICH SHOULD HAVE BEEN A PREFACE

Our journey is now finished, gentle reader; and if your patience has
accompanied me through these sheets, the contract is, on your part,
strictly fulfilled. Yet, like the driver who has received his full hire,
I still linger near you, and make, with becoming diffidence, a trifling
additional claim upon your bounty and good nature. You are as free,
however, to shut the volume of the one petitioner, as to close your door
in the face of the other.

This should have been a prefatory chapter, but for two reasons:--First,
that most novel readers, as my own conscience reminds me, are apt to
be guilty of the sin of omission respecting that same matter of
prefaces;--secondly, that it is a general custom with that class of
students, to begin with the last chapter of a work; so that, after
all, these remarks, being introduced last in order, have still the best
chance to be read in their proper place.

There is no European nation, which, within the course of half a century,
or little more, has undergone so complete a change as this kingdom of
Scotland. The effects of the insurrection of 1745,--the destruction
of the patriarchal power of the Highland chiefs,--the abolition of the
heritable jurisdictions of the Lowland nobility and barons,--the total
eradication of the Jacobite party, which, averse to intermingle with the
English, or adopt their customs, long continued to pride themselves
upon maintaining ancient Scottish manners and customs,--commenced this
innovation. The gradual influx of wealth, and extension of commerce,
have since united to render the present people of Scotland a class of
beings as different from their grandfathers as the existing English
are from those of Queen Elizabeth's time, The political and economical
effects of these changes have been traced by Lord Selkirk with great
precision and accuracy. But the change, though steadily and rapidly
progressive, has, nevertheless, been gradual; and, like those who drift
down the stream of a deep and smooth river, we are not aware of the
progress we have made until we fix our eye on the now distant point
from which we have been drifted.--Such of the present generation as
can recollect the last twenty or twenty-five years of the
eighteenth century, will be fully sensible of the truth of this
statement;--especially if their acquaintance and connexions lay among
those, who, in my younger time, were facetiously called 'folks of
the old leaven,' who still cherished a lingering, though hopeless,
attachment, to the house of Stuart. This race has now almost entirely
vanished from the land, and with it, doubtless, much absurd political
prejudice--but also, many living examples of singular and disinterested
attachment to the principles of loyalty which they received from their
fathers, and of old Scottish faith, hospitality, worth, and honour.

It was my accidental lot, though not born a Highlander (which may be an
apology for much bad Gaelic), to reside, during my childhood and youth,
among persons of the above description;--and now, for the purpose of
preserving some idea of the ancient manners of which I have witnessed
the almost total extinction, I have embodied in imaginary scenes, and
ascribed to fictitious characters, a part of the incidents which I then
received from those who were actors in them. Indeed, the most romantic
parts of this narrative are precisely those which have a foundation in
fact. The exchange of mutual protection between a Highland gentleman
and an officer of rank in the king's service, together with the spirited
manner in which the latter asserted his right to return the favour he
had received, is literally true. The accident by a musket-shot, and
the heroic reply imputed to Flora, relate to a lady of rank not long
deceased. And scarce a gentleman who was 'in hiding' after the battle of
Culloden but could tell a tale of strange concealments, and of wild and
hair's-breadth 'scapes, as extraordinary as any which I have ascribed
to my heroes. Of this, the escape of Charles Edward himself, as the most
prominent, is the most striking example. The accounts of the battle
of Preston and skirmish at Clifton are taken from the narrative of
intelligent eye-witnesses, and corrected from the History of the
Rebellion by the late venerable author of DOUGLAS. The Lowland Scottish
gentlemen, and the subordinate characters, are not given as individual
portraits, but are drawn from the general habits of the period (of which
I have witnessed some remnants in my younger days), and partly gathered
from tradition.

It has been my object to describe these persons, not by a caricatured
and exaggerated use of the national dialect, but by their habits,
manners, and feelings; so as in some distant degree to emulate the
admirable Irish portraits drawn by Miss Edgeworth, so different from
the 'Teagues' and 'dear joys,' who so long, with the most perfect family
resemblance to each other, occupied the drama and the novel.

I feel no confidence, however, in the manner in which I have executed
my purpose. Indeed, so little was I satisfied with my production, that
I laid it aside in an unfinished state, and only found it again by mere
accident among other waste papers in an old cabinet, the drawers of
which I was rummaging, in order to accommodate a friend with some
fishing tackle, after it had been mislaid for several years. Two
works upon similar subjects, by female authors, whose genius is highly
creditable to their country, have appeared in the interval; I mean Mrs.
Hamilton's GLENBURNIE, and the late account of Highland Superstitions.
But the first is confined to the rural habits of Scotland, of which
it has given a picture with striking and impressive fidelity; and the
traditional records of the respectable and ingenious Mrs. Grant of
Laggan, are of a nature distinct from the fictitious narrative which I
have here attempted.

I would willingly persuade myself, that the preceding work will not be
found altogether uninteresting. To elder persons it will recall scenes
and characters familiar to their youth; and to the rising generation the
tale may present some idea of the manners of their forefathers.

Yet I heartily wish that the task of tracing the evanescent manners of
his own country had employed the pen of the only man in Scotland who
could have done it justice,--of him so eminently distinguished
in elegant literature,--and whose sketches of Colonel Caustic and
Umphraville are perfectly blended with the finer traits of national
character. I should in that case have had more pleasure as a reader
than I shall ever feel in the pride of a successful author, should these
sheets confer upon me that envied distinction. And as I have inverted
the usual arrangement, placing these remarks at the end of the work
to which they refer, I will venture on a second violation of form, by
closing the whole with a Dedication:--

THESE VOLUMES BEING RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED TO OUR SCOTTISH ADDISON,

HENRY MACKENZIE,

BY AN UNKNOWN ADMIRER OF HIS GENIUS.


*****



NOTES


NOTE 1.--THE BRADSHAIGH LEGEND

There is a family legend to this purpose, belonging to the knightly
family of Bradshaigh, the proprietors of Haighhall, in Lancashire,
where, I have been told, the event is recorded on a painted glass
window. The German ballad of the 'Noble Moringer' turns upon a similar
topic. But undoubtedly many such incidents may have taken place, where,
the distance being great, and the intercourse infrequent, false reports
concerning the fate of the absent Crusaders must have been commonly
circulated, and sometimes perhaps rather hastily credited at home.


NOTE 2.--TITUS LIVIUS

The attachment to this classic was, it is said, actually displayed, in
the manner mentioned in the text, by an unfortunate Jacobite in that
unhappy period. He escaped from the jail in which he was confined for
a hasty trial and certain condemnation, and was retaken as he hovered
around the place in which he had been imprisoned, for which he could
give no better reason than the hope of recovering his favourite Titus
Livius. I am sorry to add, that the simplicity of such a character
was found to form no apology for his guilt as a rebel, and that he was
condemned and executed.


NOTE 3.--NICHOLAS AMHURST

Nicholas Amhurst, a noted political writer, who conducted for many years
a paper called the Craftsman, under the assumed name of Caleb d'Anvers.
He was devoted to the Tory interest, and seconded with much ability the
attacks of Pulteney on Sir Robert Walpole. He died in 1742, neglected by
his great patrons, and in the most miserable circumstances.

Amhurst survived the downfall of Walpole's power, and had reason to
expect a reward for his labours. If we excuse Bolingbroke, who had only
saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, we shall be at a loss to justify
Pulteney, who could with ease have given this man a considerable income.
The utmost of his generosity to Amhurst, that I ever heard of, was a
hogshead of claret! He died, it is supposed, of a broken heart; and was
buried at the charge of his honest printer, Richard Franklin.'--LORD
CHESTERFIELD'S CHARACTERS REVIEWED, p. 42.


NOTE 4.--COLONEL GARDINER

I have now given in the text the full name of this gallant and excellent
man, and proceed to copy the account of his remarkable conversion, as
related by Dr. Doddridge.

'This memorable event,' says the pious writer, 'happened towards the
middle of July, 1719. The major had spent the evening (and, if I
mistake not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay company, and had an unhappy
assignation with a married woman, whom he was to attend exactly at
twelve. The company broke up about eleven; and not judging it convenient
to anticipate the time appointed, he went into his chamber to kill the
tedious hour, perhaps with some amusing book, or some other way. But it
very accidentally happened that he took up a religious book, which
his good mother or aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped into
his portmanteau. It was called, if I remember the title exactly, THE
CHRISTIAN SOLDIER, or HEAVEN TAKEN BY STORM; and it was written by
Mr. Thomas Watson. Guessing by the title of it that he would find some
phrases of his own profession spiritualized in a manner which he thought
might afford him some diversion, he resolved to dip into it; but he took
no serious notice of anything it had in it; and yet, while this book was
in his hand an impression was made upon his mind (perhaps God only
knows how) which drew after it a train of the most important and happy
consequences. He thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall upon the
book which he was reading, which he at first imagined might happen by
some accident in the candle: but lifting up his eyes, he apprehended, to
his extreme amazement, that there was before him, as it were suspended
in the air, a visible representation of the Lord Jesus Christ upon the
cross, surrounded on all sides with a glory; and was impressed, as if
a voice, or something equivalent to a voice, had come to him, to this
effect (for he was not confident as to the words)--"Oh, sinner! did I
suffer this for thee? and are these thy returns?" Struck with so amazing
a phenomenon as this, there remained hardly any life in him, so that he
sunk down in the arm-chair in which he sat, and continued, he knew not
how long, insensible.'

'With regard to this vision,' says the ingenious Dr. Hibbert, 'the
appearance of our Saviour on the cross, and the awful words repeated,
can be considered in no other light than as so many recollected images
of the mind, which, probably, had their origin in the language of some
urgent appeal to repentance, that the colonel might have casually read
or heard delivered. From what cause, however, such ideas were rendered
as vivid as actual impressions, we have no information to be depended
upon. This vision was certainly attended with one of the most important
of consequences connected with the Christian dispensation--the
conversion of a sinner; and hence no single narrative has, perhaps, done
more to confirm the superstitious opinion that apparitions of this
awful kind cannot arise without a divine fiat.' Dr. Hibbert adds, in a
note--'A short time before the vision, Colonel Gardiner had received a
severe fall from his horse. Did the brain receive some slight degree
of injury from the accident, so as to predispose him to this spiritual
illusion?'--HIBBERT'S PHILOSOPHY OF APPARITIONS, Edinburgh, 1824, p.
190.


NOTE 5.--SCOTTISH INNS

The courtesy of an invitation to partake a traveller's meal, or at least
that of being invited to share whatever liquor the guest called for, was
expected by certain old landlords in Scotland, even in the youth of the
author. In requital, mine host was always furnished with the news of the
country, and was probably a little of a humorist to boot. The devolution
of the whole actual business and drudgery of the inn upon the poor
gudewife, was very common among the Scottish Bonifaces. There was in
ancient times, in the city of Edinburgh, a gentleman of good family,
who condescended, in order to gain a livelihood, to become the nominal
keeper of a coffee house, one of the first places of the kind which
had been opened in the Scottish metropolis. As usual, it was entirely
managed by the careful and industrious Mrs. B--; while her husband
amused himself with field sports, without troubling his head about the
matter. Once upon a time the premises having taken fire, the husband was
met, walking up the High Street loaded with his guns and fishing-rods,
and replied calmly to some one who inquired after his wife, 'that the
poor woman was trying to save a parcel of crockery, and some trumpery
books'; the last being those which served her to conduct the business of
the house.

There were many elderly gentlemen in the author's younger days, who
still held it part of the amusement of a journey 'to parley with mine
host,' who often resembled, in his quaint humour, mine Host of the
Garter in the MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR; or Blague of the George in the
MERRY DEVIL OF EDMONTON. Sometimes the landlady took her share of
entertaining the company. In either case, the omitting to pay them due
attention gave displeasure, and perhaps brought down a smart jest, as on
the following occasion:--

A jolly dame, who, not 'Sixty Years since,' kept the principal
caravansary at Greenlaw in Berwickshire, had the honour to receive
under her roof a very worthy clergyman, with three sons of the same
profession, each having a cure of souls: be it said in passing, none of
the reverend party were reckoned powerful in the pulpit. After dinner
was over, the worthy senior, in the pride of his heart, asked Mrs.
Buchan whether she ever had had such a party in her house before. 'Here
sit I,' he said, 'a placed minister of the Kirk of Scotland, and here
sit my three sons, each a placed minister of the same kirk.--confess,
Luckie Buchan, you never had such a party in your house before.' The
question was not premised by any invitation to sit down and take a glass
of wine or the like, so Mrs. B. answered dryly, 'Indeed, Sir, I cannot
just say that ever I had such a party in my house before, except once in
the forty-five, when I had a Highland piper here, with his three sons,
all Highland pipers; AND DEIL A SPRING THEY COULD PLAY AMANG THEM.'


NOTE 6.--THE CUSTOM OF KEEPING FOOLS

I am ignorant how long the ancient and established custom of keeping
fools has been disused in England. Swift writes an epitaph on the Earl
of Suffolk's fool,--

'Whose name was Dickie Pearce.'

In Scotland the custom subsisted till late in the last century. At
Glamis Castle, is preserved the dress of one of the jesters, very
handsome, and ornamented with many bells. It is not above thirty years
since such a character stood by the sideboard of a nobleman of the first
rank in Scotland, and occasionally mixed in the conversation, till he
carried the joke rather too far, in making proposals to one of the young
ladies of the family, and publishing the banns betwixt her and himself
in the public church.


NOTE 7.--PERSECUTION OF EPISCOPAL CLERGYMEN

After the Revolution of 1688, and on some occasions when the spirit of
the Presbyterians had been unusually animated against their opponents,
the Episcopal clergymen, who were chiefly non-jurors, were exposed to
be mobbed, as we should now say, or rabbled, as the phrase then went,
to expiate their political heresies. But notwithstanding that the
Presbyterians had the persecution in Charles II and his brother's time
to exasperate them, there was little mischief done beyond the kind of
petty violence mentioned in the text.


NOTE 8.--STIRRUP-CUP

I may here mention, that the fashion of compotation described in the
text, was still occasionally practised in Scotland in the author's
youth. A company, after having taken leave of their host, often went to
finish the evening at the clachan or village, in 'womb of tavern.' Their
entertainer always accompanied them to take the stirrup-cup, which often
occasioned a long and late revel.

The POCULUM POTATORIUM of the valiant Baron, his Blessed Bear, has a
prototype at the fine old Castle of Glamis, so rich in memorials of
ancient times; it is a massive beaker of silver, double gilt, moulded
into the shape of a lion, and holding about an English pint of wine. The
form alludes to the family name of Strathmore, which is Lyon, and, when
exhibited, the cup must necessarily be emptied to the Earl's health.
The author ought perhaps to be ashamed of recording that he has had the
honour of swallowing the contents of the Lion; and the recollection of
the feat served to suggest the story of the Bear of Bradwardine. In the
family of Scott of Thirlestane (not Thirlestane in the Forest, but the
place of the same name in Roxburghshire) was long preserved a cup of the
same kind, in the form of a jack-boot. Each guest was obliged to empty
this at his departure. If the guest's name was Scott, the necessity was
doubly imperative.

When the landlord of an inn presented his guests with DEOCH AN DORUIS,
that is, the drink at the door, or the stirrup-cup, the draught was not
charged in the reckoning. On this point a learned Bailie of the town of
Forfar pronounced a very sound judgement.

A., an ale-wife in Forfar, had brewed her 'peck of malt,' and set the
liquor out of doors to cool; the cow of B., a neighbour of A. chanced
to come by, and seeing the good beverage, was allured to taste it, and
finally to drink it up. When A. came to take in her liquor, she found
the tub empty, and from the cow's staggering and staring, so as to
betray her intemperance, she easily divined the mode in which her
'brewst' had disappeared. To take vengeance on Crummie's ribs with a
stick, was her first effort. The roaring of the cow brought B., her
master, who remonstrated with his angry neighbour, and received in reply
a demand for the value of the ale which Crummie had drunk up. B. refused
payment, and was conveyed before C., the Bailie, or sitting Magistrate.
He heard the case patiently; and then demanded of the plaintiff A.,
whether the cow had sat down to her potation, or taken it standing. The
plaintiff answered she had not seen the deed committed, but she supposed
the cow drank the ale standing on her feet; adding, that had she been
near, she would have made her use them to some purpose. The Bailie,
on this admission, solemnly adjudged the cow's drink to be DEOCH
AN DORUIS--a stirrup-cup, for which no charge could be made without
violating the ancient hospitality of Scotland.


NOTE 9.--CANTING HERALDRY

Although canting heraldry is generally reprobated, it seems nevertheless
to have been adopted in the arms and mottoes of many honourable
families. Thus the motto of the Vernons, VER NON SEMPER VIRET, is a
perfect pun, and so is that of the Onslows, FESTINA LENTE. The PERIISSEM
NI PER-IISSEM of the Anstruthers is liable to a similar objection. One
of that ancient race, finding that an antagonist, with whom he had
fixed a friendly meeting, was determined to take the opportunity of
assassinating him, prevented the hazard by dashing out his brains with
a battle-axe. Two sturdy arms brandishing such a weapon, form the usual
crest of the family, with the above motto--PERIISSEM NI PER-IISSEM--I
had died, unless I had gone through with it.


NOTE 10.--THE LEVYING OF BLACKMAIL

Mac-Donald of Barrisdale, one of the very last Highland gentlemen who
carried on the plundering system to any great extent, was a scholar and
a well-bred gentleman. He engraved on his broadswords the well-known
lines--

Hae tibi erunt artes--pacisque imponere morem,

Parcere subiectis, et debellare superbos.

Indeed, the levying of blackmail was, before 1745, practised by several
chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing so, contended that they were
lending the laws the assistance of their arms and swords, and affording
a protection which could not be obtained from the magistracy in
the disturbed state of the country. The author has seen a memoir of
Mac-Pherson of Cluny, chief of that ancient clan, from which it appears
that he levied protection-money to a very large amount, which was
willingly paid even by some of his most powerful neighbours. A gentleman
of this clan hearing a clergyman hold forth to his congregation on the
crime of theft, interrupted the preacher to assure him, he might leave
the enforcement of such doctrines to Cluny Mac-Pherson, whose broadsword
would put a stop to theft sooner than all the sermons of all the
ministers of the synod.


NOTE 11.--ROB ROY

An adventure, very similar to what is here stated, actually befell
the late Mr. Abercromby of Tullibody, grandfather of the present Lord
Abercromby, and father of the celebrated Sir Ralph. When this
gentlemen, who lived to a very advanced period of life, first settled in
Stirlingshire, his cattle were repeatedly driven off by the celebrated
Rob Roy, or some of his gang; and at length he was obliged, after
obtaining a proper safe-conduct, to make the Cateran such a visit as
that of Waverley to Bean Lean in the text. Rob received him with much
courtesy, and made many apologies for the accident, which must have
happened, he said, through some mistake. Mr. Abercromby was regaled with
collops from two of his own cattle, which were hung up by the heels in
the cavern, and was dismissed in perfect safety, after having agreed to
pay in future a small sum of blackmail, in consideration of which Rob
Roy not only undertook to forbear his herds in future, but to replace
any that should be stolen from him by other freebooters. Mr. Abercromby
said, Rob Roy affected to consider him as a friend to the Jacobite
interest, and a sincere enemy to the Union. Neither of these
circumstances were true; but the laird thought it quite unnecessary
to undeceive his Highland host at the risk of bringing on a political
dispute in such a situation. This anecdote I received many years since
(about 1792) from the mouth of the venerable gentleman who was concerned
in it.


NOTE 12.--KIND GALLOWS OF CRIEFF

This celebrated gibbet was, in the memory of the last generation, still
standing at the western end of the town of Crieff, in Perthshire. Why
it was called the kind gallows, we are unable to inform the reader with
certainty; but it is alleged that the Highlanders used to touch their
bonnets as they passed a place which had been fatal to many of their
countrymen, with the ejaculation--'God bless her nain sell, and the Teil
tamn you!' It may therefore have been called kind, as being a sort
of native or kindred place of doom to those who suffered there, as in
fulfilment of a natural destiny.


NOTE 13.--CATERANS

The story of the bridegroom carried off by Caterans on his bridal-day
is taken from one which was told to the author by the late Laird of
Mac-Nab, many years since. To carry off persons from the Lowlands, and
to put them to ransom, was a common practice with the wild Highlanders,
as it is said to be at the present day with the banditti in the south of
Italy. Upon the occasion alluded to, a party of Caterans carried off
the bridegroom, and secreted him in some cave near the mountain of
Schehallion. The young man caught the small-pox before his ransom could
be agreed on; and whether it was the fine cool air of the place, or the
want of medical attendance, Mac-Nab did not pretend to be positive; but
so it was, that the prisoner recovered, his ransom was paid, and he was
restored to his friends and bride, but always considered the Highland
robbers as having saved his life by their treatment of his malady.


NOTE 14.--RE-PURCHASE OF FORFEITED ESTATES

This happened on many occasions. Indeed, it was not till after the total
destruction of the clan influence, after 1745, that purchasers could be
found who offered a fair price for the estates forfeited in 1715,
which were then brought to sale by the creditors of the York-Buildings
Company, who had purchased the whole, or greater part, from Government
at a very small price. Even so late as the period first mentioned,
the prejudices of the public in favour of the heirs of the forfeited
families threw various impediments in the way of intending purchasers of
such property.


NOTE 15.--HIGHLAND POLICY

This sort of political game ascribed to Mac-Ivor was in reality played
by several Highland chiefs, the celebrated Lord Lovat in particular, who
used that kind of finesse to the uttermost. The Laird of Mac-- was also
captain of an independent company, but valued the sweets of present pay
too well to incur the risk of losing them in the Jacobite cause. His
martial consort raised his clan, and headed it in 1745. But the chief
himself would have nothing to do with king-making, declaring himself for
that monarch, and no other, who gave the Laird of Mac-- 'half a guinea
the day, and half a guinea the morn.'


NOTE 16.--HIGHLAND DISCIPLINE

In explanation of the military exercise observed at the Castle of
Glennaquoich, the author begs to remark, that the Highlanders were not
only well practised in the use of the broadsword, firelock, and most of
the manly sports and trials of strength common throughout Scotland, but
also used a peculiar sort of drill, suited to their own dress and mode
of warfare. There were, for instance, different modes of disposing
the plaid,--one when on a peaceful journey, another when danger was
apprehended; one way of enveloping themselves in it when expecting
undisturbed repose, and another which enabled them to start up with
sword and pistol in hand on the slightest alarm.

Previous to 1720, or thereabouts, the belted plaid was universally worn,
in which the portion which surrounded the middle of the wearer, and
that which was flung around his shoulders, were all of the same piece of
tartan. In a desperate onset, all was thrown away, and the clan charged
bare beneath the doublet, save for an artificial arrangement of the
shirt, which, like that of the Irish, was always ample, and for the
sporran-mollach, or goat's-skin purse.

The manner of handling the pistol and dirk was also part of the Highland
manual exercise, which the author has seen gone through by men who had
learned it in their youth.


NOTE 17.--HIGHLAND ABHORRENCE OF PORK

Pork, or swine's flesh, in any shape, was, till of late years, much
abominated by the Scotch, nor is it yet a favourite food amongst them.
King Jamie carried this prejudice to England, and is known to have
abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco. Ben Jonson has recorded
this peculiarity, where the gipsy in a masque, examining the king's
hand, says,--

--'you should, by this line, Love a horse, and a hound, but no part of a
swine.'--THE GYPSIES METAMORPHOSED.

James's own proposed banquet for the devil was a loin of pork and a poll
of ling, with a pipe of tobacco for digestion.


NOTE 18.--A HIGHLAND CHIEF'S DINNER-TABLE

In the number of persons of all ranks who assembled at the same table,
though by no means to discuss the same fare, the Highland Chiefs
only retained a custom which had been formerly universally observed
throughout Scotland. 'I myself,' says the traveller Fynes Morrison,
in the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, the scene being the Lowlands of
Scotland, 'was at a knight's house, who had many servants to attend him,
that brought in his meat with their heads covered with blue caps, the
table being more than half furnished with great platters of porridge
each having a little piece of sodden meat. And when the table was
served, the servants did sit down with us; but the upper mess, instead
of porridge, had a pullet, with some prunes in the broth.'--TRAVELS, p.
155.

Till within this last century, the farmers, even of a respectable
condition, dined with their work-people. The difference betwixt those of
high degree was ascertained by the place of the party above or below
the salt, or, sometimes, by a line drawn with chalk on the dining-table.
Lord Lovat, who knew well how to feed the vanity and restrain the
appetites of his clansmen, allowed each sturdy Fraser, who had the
slightest pretension to be a Duinhe-wassel, the full honour of the
sitting, but, at the same time, took care that his young kinsmen did not
acquire at his table any taste for outlandish luxuries. His Lordship was
always ready with some honourable apology, why foreign wines and French
brandy--delicacies which he conceived might sap the hardy habits of his
cousins--should not circulate past an assigned point on the table.


NOTE 19.--CONAN THE JESTER

In the Irish ballads relating to Fion (the Fingal of Mac-Pherson), there
occurs, as in the primitive poetry of most nations, a cycle of heroes,
each of whom has some distinguishing attribute: upon these qualities,
and the adventures of those possessing them, many proverbs are formed
which are still current in the Highlands. Among other characters, Conan
is distinguished as in some respects a kind of Thersites, but brave and
daring even to rashness. He had made a vow that he would never take a
blow without returning it; and having, like other heroes of antiquity,
descended to the infernal regions, he received a cuff from the
Arch-fiend; who presided there, which he instantly returned, using the
expression in the text. Sometimes the proverb is worded thus:--'Claw
for claw, and the devil take the shortest nails, as Conan said to the
devil.'


NOTE 20.--WATERFALL

The description of the waterfall mentioned in this chapter is taken from
that of Ledeard, at the farm so called on the northern side of Lochard,
and near the head of the Lake, four or five miles from Aberfoyle. It is
upon a small scale, but otherwise one of the most exquisite cascades
it is possible to behold. The appearance of Flora with the harp, as
described, has been justly censured as too theatrical and affected for
the ladylike simplicity of her character. But something may be allowed
to her French education, in which point and striking effect always make
a considerable object.


NOTE 21.--MAC-FARLANE'S LANTERN

The clan of Mac-Farlane, occupying the fastnesses of the western side
of Loch Lomond, were great depredators on the Low Country; and as their
excursions were made usually by night, the moon was proverbially called
their lantern. Their celebrated pibroch of HOGGIL NAM BO, which is the
name of their gathering tune, intimates similar practices,--the sense
being--

     We are bound to drive the bullocks,
     All by hollows, hirsts, and hillocks,
     Through the sleet and through the rain;
     When the moon is beaming low
     On frozen lake and hills of snow,
     Bold and heartily we go;
     And all for little gain.


NOTE 22.--CASTLE OF DOUNE

This noble ruin is dear to my recollection, from associations which have
been long and painfully broken. It holds a commanding station on the
banks of the river Teith, and has been one of the largest castles in
Scotland. Murdock, Duke of Albany, the founder of this stately pile,
was beheaded on the Castle-hill of Stirling, from which he might see the
towers of Doune, the monument of his fallen greatness.

In 1745-6, as stated in the text, a garrison on the part of the
Chevalier was put into the castle, then less ruinous than at present. It
was commanded by Mr. Stewart of Balloch, as governor for Prince Charles
he was a man of property near Callander. This castle became at that time
the actual scene of a romantic escape made by John Home, the author of
Douglas, and some other prisoners, who, having been taken at the battle
of Falkirk, were confined there by the insurgents. The poet, who had in
his own mind a large stock of that romantic and enthusiastic spirit of
adventure, which he has described as animating the youthful hero of his
drama, devised and undertook the perilous enterprise of escaping from
his prison. He inspired his companions with his sentiments and when
every attempt at open force was deemed hopeless, they resolved to twist
their bed-clothes into ropes, and thus to descend. Four persons, with
Home himself, reached the ground in safety. But the rope broke with the
fifth, who was a tall lusty man. The sixth was Thomas Barrow, a brave
young Englishman, a particular friend of Home's. Determined to take the
risk, even in such unfavourable circumstances, Barrow committed himself
to the broken rope, slid down on it as far as if could assist him, and
then let himself drop. His friends beneath succeeded in breaking his
fall. Nevertheless, he dislocated his ankle, and had several of his ribs
broken. His companions, however, were able to bear him off in safety.

The Highlanders next morning sought for their prisoners with great
activity. An old gentleman told the author he remembered seeing the
commander Stewart,

Bloody with spurring, fiery red with haste,

riding furiously through the country in quest of the fugitives.


NOTE 23.--JACOBITE SENTIMENTS

The Jacobite sentiments were general among the western counties, and in
Wales. But although the great families of the Wynnes, the Wyndhams, and
others, had come under an actual obligation to join Prince Charles if
he should land, they had done so under the express stipulation, that he
should be assisted by an auxiliary army of French, without which they
foresaw the enterprise would be desperate. Wishing well to his cause,
therefore, and watching an opportunity to join him, they did not,
nevertheless, think themselves bound in honour to do so, as he was only
supported by a body of wild mountaineers, speaking an uncouth dialect,
and wearing a singular dress. The race up to Derby struck them with more
dread than admiration. But it was difficult to say what the effect might
have been, had either the battle of Preston or Falkirk been fought and
won during the advance into England.


NOTE 24.--THE CHEVALIER'S IRISH OFFICERS

Divisions early showed themselves in the Chevalier's little army, not
only amongst the independent chieftains, who were far too proud to brook
subjection to each other, but betwixt the Scotch and Charles's governor
O'Sullivan, an Irishman by birth, who, with some of his countrymen
bred in the Irish Brigade in the service of the King of France, had an
influence with the Adventurer much resented by the Highlanders, who
were sensible that their own clans made the chief, or rather the only
strength of his enterprise. There was a feud, also, between Lord George
Murray, and James Murray of Broughton, the Prince's secretary, whose
disunion greatly embarrassed the affairs of the Adventurer. In general,
a thousand different pretensions divided their little army, and finally
contributed in no small degree to its overthrow.


NOTE 25.--FIELD-PIECE IN THE HIGHLAND ARMY

This circumstance, which is historical, as well as the description that
precedes it, will remind the reader of the war of La Vendee, in which
the royalists, consisting chiefly of insurgent peasantry, attached a
prodigious and even superstitious interest to the possession of a piece
of brass ordnance, which they called Marie Jeanne.

The Highlanders of an early period were afraid of cannon, with the noise
and effect of which they were totally unacquainted. It was by means
of three or four small pieces of artillery that the Earl of Huntly and
Errol, in James VI's time, gained a great victory at Glenlivat, over a
numerous Highland army, commanded by the Earl of Argyle. At the battle
of the Bridge of Dee, General Middleton obtained by his artillery a
similar success, the Highlanders not being able to stand the discharge
of MUSKET'S-MOTHER, which was the name they bestowed on great guns. In
an old ballad on the battle of the Bridge of Dee, these verses occur:--

     The Highlandmen are pretty men
     For handling sword and shield,
     But yet they are but simple men
     To stand a stricken field.

     The Highlandmen are pretty men
     For target and claymore,
     But yet they are but naked men
     To face the cannon's roar.

     For the cannons roar on a summer night
     Like thunder in the air;
     Was never man in Highland garb
     Would face the cannon fair.

But the Highlanders of 1745 had got far beyond the simplicity of their
forefathers, and showed throughout the whole war how little they dreaded
artillery, although the common people still attached some consequence to
the possession of the field-piece which led to this disquisition.


NOTE 26.--ANDERSON OF WHITBURGH

The faithful friend who pointed out the pass by which the Highlanders
moved from Tranent to Seaton, was Robert Anderson, Junior, of Whitburgh,
a gentleman of property in East Lothian. He had been interrogated by the
Lord George Murray concerning the possibility of crossing the uncouth
and marshy piece of ground which divided the armies, and which he
described as impracticable. When dismissed, he recollected that there
was a circuitous path leading eastward through the marsh into the
plain, by which the Highlanders might turn the flank of Sir John Cope's
position, without being exposed to the enemy's fire. Having mentioned
his opinion to Mr. Hepburn of Keith, who instantly saw its importance,
he was encouraged by that gentleman to awake Lord George Murray, and
communicate the idea to him. Lord George received the information with
grateful thanks, and instantly awakened Prince Charles, who was sleeping
in the field with a bunch of peas under his head. The Adventurer
received with alacrity the news that there was a possibility of bringing
an excellently provided army to a decisive battle with his own irregular
forces. His joy on the occasion was not very consistent with the charge
of cowardice brought against him by Chevalier Johnstone, a discontented
follower, whose Memoirs possess at least as much of a romantic as a
historical character. Even by the account of the Chevalier himself, the
Prince was at the head of the second line of the Highland army during
the battle, of which he says, 'It was gained with such rapidity, that in
the second line, where I was still by the side of the Prince, we saw no
other enemy than those who were lying on the ground killed and wounded,
THOUGH WE WERE NOT MORE THAN FIFTY PACES BEHIND OUR FIRST LINE, RUNNING
ALWAYS AS FAST AS WE COULD TO OVERTAKE THEM.'

This passage in the Chevalier's Memoirs places the Prince within fifty
paces of the best of the battle, a position which would never have been
the choice of one unwilling to take a share of its dangers. Indeed,
unless the chiefs had complied with the young Adventurer's proposal
to lead the van in person, it does not appear that he could have been
deeper in the action.


NOTE 27.--DEATH OF COLONEL GARDINER

The death of this good Christian and gallant man is thus given by
his affectionate biographer Dr. Doddridge, from the evidence of
eye-witnesses:--

'He continued all night under arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and
generally sheltered under a rick of barley, which happened to be in the
field. About three in the morning he called-his domestic servants to
him, of which there were four in waiting. He dismissed three of them
with most affectionate Christian advice, and such solemn charges
relating to the performance of their duty and the care of their souls,
as seemed plainly to intimate that he apprehended it was at least very
probable he was taking his last farewell of them. There is great reason
to believe that he spent the little remainder of the time, which could
not be much above an hour, in those devout exercises of soul which had
been so long habitual to him and to which so many circumstances did then
concur to call him. The army was alarmed, by break of day, by the noise
of the rebels' approach, and the attack was made before sunrise, yet
when it was light enough to discern what passed. As soon as the enemy
came within gunshot they made a furious fire; and it is said that the
dragoons which constituted the left wing immediately fled. The Colonel,
at the beginning of the onset, which in the whole lasted but a few
minutes, received a wound by a bullet in his left breast, which made him
give a sudden spring in his saddle upon which his servant, who led the
horse, would have persuaded him to retreat, but he said it was only a
wound in the flesh, and fought on, though he presently after received a
shot in his right thigh. In the meantime, it was discerned that some
of the enemy fell by him, and particularly one man, who had made him a
treacherous visit but a few days before, with great profession of zeal
for the present establishment.

'Events of this kind pass in less time than the description of them can
be written, or than it can be read. The Colonel was for a few
moments supported by his men, and particularly by that worthy person
Lieutenant-Colonel Whitney, who was shot through the arm here, and a
few months after fell nobly at the battle of Falkirk, and by Lieutenant
West, a man of distinguished bravery, as also by about fifteen dragoons,
who stood by him to the last. But after a faint fire, the regiment in
general was seized with a panic; and though their Colonel and some other
gallant officers did what they could to rally them once or twice, they
at last took a precipitate flight. And just in the moment when Colonel
Gardiner seemed to be making a pause to deliberate what duty required
him to do in such circumstances, an accident happened, which must, I
think, in the judgement of every worthy and generous man, be allowed a
sufficient apology for exposing his life to so great hazard, when his
regiment had left him. He saw a party of the foot, who were then bravely
fighting near him, and whom he was ordered to support, had no officer to
head them; upon which he said eagerly, in the hearing of the person from
whom I had this account, "These brave fellows will be cut to pieces
for want of a commander," or words to that effect; which while he was
speaking, he rode up to them and cried out, "Fire on, my lads, and fear
nothing." But just as the words were out of his mouth, a Highlander
advanced towards him with a scythe fastened to a long pole, with which
he gave him so dreadful a wound on his right arm, that his sword dropped
out of his hand; and at the same time several others coming about him
while he was thus dreadfully entangled with that cruel weapon, he was
dragged off from his horse. The moment he fell, another Highlander, who,
if the king's evidence at Carlisle may be credited (as I know not why
they should not, though the unhappy creature died denying it), was
one Mac-Naught, who was executed about a year after, gave him a stroke
either with a broadsword or a Lochaber-axe (for my informant could
not exactly distinguish) on the hinder part of his head, which was the
mortal blow. All that his faithful attendant saw further at this time
was, that, as his hat was falling off, he took it in his left hand, and
waved it as a signal to him to retreat, and added what were the last
words he ever heard him speak, "Take care of yourself," upon which the
servant retired.'--SOME REMARKABLE PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF COLONEL JAMES
GARDINER, BY P. DODDRIDGE, D.D., London, 1747, p. 187.

I may remark on this extract, that it confirms the account given in
the text of the resistance offered by some of the English infantry.
Surprised by a force of a peculiar and unusual description, their
opposition could not be long or formidable, especially as they
were deserted by the cavalry, and those who undertook to manage the
artillery. But although the affair was soon decided, I have always
understood that many of the infantry showed an inclination to do their
duty.


NOTE 28.-THE LAIRD OF BALMAWHAPPLE

It is scarcely necessary to say that the character of this brutal
young Laird is entirely imaginary. A gentleman, however, who resembled
Balmawhapple in the article of courage only, fell at Preston in
the manner described. A Perthshire gentleman of high honour and
respectability, one of the handful of cavalry who followed the fortunes
of Charles Edward, pursued the fugitive dragoons almost alone till
near St. Clement's Wells, where the efforts of some of the officers had
prevailed on a few of them to make a momentary stand. Perceiving at this
moment that they were pursued by only one man and a couple of servants,
they turned upon him and cut him down with their swords. I remember,
when a child, sitting on his grave, where the grass long grew rank and
green, distinguishing it from the rest of the field. A female of the
family then residing at St. Clement's Wells used to tell me the tragedy,
of which she had been an eye-witness, and showed me in evidence one of
the silver clasps of the unfortunate gentleman's waistcoat.


NOTE 29.--ANDREA DE FERRARA

The name of Andrea de Ferrara is inscribed on all the Scottish
broadswords which are accounted of peculiar excellence. Who this artist
was, what were his fortunes, and when he flourished, have hitherto
defied the research of antiquaries; only it is in general believed that
Andrea de Ferrara was a Spanish or Italian artificer, brought over by
James IV or V to instruct the Scots in the manufacture of sword blades.
Most barbarous nations excel in the fabrication of arms; and the Scots
had attained great proficiency in forging swords, so early as the field
of Pinkie; at which period the historian Patten describes them as 'all
notably broad and thin, universally made to slice, and of such exceeding
good temper, that as I never saw any so good, so I think it hard to
devise better.' ACCOUNT OF SOMERSET'S EXPEDITION.

It may be observed, that the best and most genuine Andrea Ferraras have
a crown marked on the blades.


NOTE 30.--MISS NAIRNE

The incident here said to have happened to Flora, Mac-Ivor, actually
befell Miss Nairne, a lady with whom the author had the pleasure of
being acquainted. As the Highland army rushed into Edinburgh, Miss
Nairne, like other ladies who approved of their cause, stood waving her
handkerchief from a balcony, when a ball from a Highlander's musket,
which was discharged by accident, grazed her forehead. 'Thank God' said
she, the instant she recovered, 'that the accident happened to me, whose
principles are known. Had it befallen a Whig, they would have said it
was done on purpose.'


NOTE 31.--PRINCE CHARLES EDWARD

The Author of Waverley has been charged with painting the young
Adventurer in colours more amiable than his character deserved. But
having known many individuals who were near his person, he has been
described according to the light in which those eye-witnesses saw his
temper and qualifications. Something must be allowed, no doubt, to
the natural exaggerations of those who remembered him as the bold and
adventurous Prince, in whose cause they had braved death and ruin; but
is their evidence to give place entirely to that of a single malcontent?

I have already noticed the imputations thrown by the Chevalier Johnstone
on the Prince's courage. But some part at least of that gentleman's tale
is purely romantic. It would not, for instance, be supposed, that at
the time he is favouring us with the highly-wrought account of his amour
with the adorable Peggie, the Chevalier Johnstone was a married man,
whose grandchild is now alive, or that the whole circumstantial story
concerning the outrageous vengeance taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a
Presbyterian clergyman, is entirely apocryphal. At the same time it may
be admitted, that the Prince, like others of his family, did not esteem
the services done him by his adherents so highly as he ought. Educated
in high ideas of his hereditary right, he has been supposed to have held
every exertion and sacrifice made in his cause as too much the duty of
the person making it, to merit extravagant gratitude on his part.
Dr. King's evidence (which his leaving the Jacobite interest renders
somewhat doubtful) goes to strengthen this opinion.

The ingenious editor of Johnstone's MEMOIRS has quoted a story said
to be told by Helvetius, stating that Prince Charles Edward, far from
voluntarily embarking on his daring expedition, was literally bound hand
and foot, and to which he seems disposed to yield credit. Now, it being
a fact as well known as any in his history, and, so far as I know,
entirely undisputed, that the Prince's personal entreaties and urgency
positively forced Boisdale and Lochiel into insurrection, when they
were earnestly desirous that he would put off his attempt until he could
obtain a sufficient force from France, it will be very difficult to
reconcile his alleged reluctance to undertake the expedition, with his
desperately insisting on carrying the rising into effect, against the
advice and entreaty of his most powerful and most sage partisans. Surely
a man who had been carried bound on board the vessel which brought him
to so desperate an enterprise, would have taken the opportunity afforded
by the reluctance of his partisans, to return to France in safety.

It is averred in Johnstone's Memoirs, that Charles Edward left the field
of Culloden without doing the utmost to dispute the victory; and,
to give the evidence on both sides, there is in existence the more
trustworthy testimony of Lord Elcho, who states, that he himself
earnestly exhorted the Prince to charge at the head of the left wing,
which was entire, and retrieve the day, or die with honour. And on
his counsel being declined, Lord Elcho took leave of him with a bitter
execration, swearing he would never look on his face again, and kept his
word.

On the other hand, it seems to have been the opinion of almost all the
other officers, that the day was irretrievably lost, one wing of the
Highlanders being entirely routed, the rest of the army out-numbered,
out-flanked, and in a condition totally hopeless. In this situation of
things, the Irish officers who surrounded Charles's person interfered
to force him off the field. A cornet who was close to the Prince, left
a strong attestation, that he had seen Sir Thomas Sheridan seize the
bridle of his horse, and turn him round. There is some discrepancy of
evidence; but the opinion of Lord Elcho, a man of fiery temper, and
desperate at the ruin which he beheld impending, cannot fairly be taken
in prejudice of a character for courage which is intimated by the nature
of the enterprise itself, by the Prince's eagerness to fight on all
occasions, by his determination to advance from Derby to London, and by
the presence of mind which he manifested during the romantic perils of
his escape. The author is far from claiming for this unfortunate person
the praise due to splendid talents; but he continues to be of opinion,
that at the period of his enterprise, he had a mind capable of facing
danger and aspiring to fame.

That Charles Edward had the advantages of a graceful presence, courtesy,
and an address and manner becoming his station, the author never heard
disputed by any who approached his person, nor does he conceive that
these qualities are overcharged in the present attempt to sketch his
portrait. The following extracts, corroborative of the general opinion
respecting the Prince's amiable disposition, are taken from a manuscript
account of his romantic expedition, by James Maxwell of Kirkconnel,
of which I possess a copy, by the friendship of J. Menzies, Esq.,
of Pitfoddells. The author, though partial to the Prince, whom he
faithfully followed, seems to have been a fair and candid man, and well
acquainted with the intrigues among the Adventurer's council:--

'Everybody was mightily taken with the Prince's figure and personal
behaviour. There was but one voice about them. Those whom interest or
prejudice made a runaway to his cause, could not help acknowledging that
they wished him well in all other respects, and could hardly blame him
for his present undertaking. Sundry things had concurred to raise his
character to the highest pitch, besides the greatness of the enterprise,
and the conduct that had hitherto appeared in the execution of it. There
were several instances of good nature and humanity that had made a great
impression on people's minds, I shall confine myself to two or three.
Immediately after the battle, as the Prince was riding along the ground
that Cope's army had occupied a few minutes before, one of the officers
came up to congratulate him, and said, pointing to the killed, "Sir,
there are your enemies at your feet." The Prince, far from exulting,
expressed a great deal of compassion for his father's deluded subjects,
whom he declared he was heartily sorry to see in that posture. Next day,
while the Prince was at Pinkie-house, a citizen of Edinburgh came to
make some representation to Secretary Murray about the tents that city
was ordered to furnish against a certain day. Murray happened to be out
of the way, which the Prince hearing of, called to have the gentleman
brought to him, saying, he would rather dispatch the business, whatever
it was, himself, than have the gentleman wait, which he did, by granting
everything that was asked. So much affability in a young prince, flushed
with victory, drew encomiums even from his enemies. But what gave the
people the highest idea of him, was the negative he gave to a thing that
very nearly concerned his interest, and upon which the success of
his enterprise perhaps depended. It was proposed to send one of the
prisoners to London, to demand of that court a cartel for the exchange
of prisoners taken, and to be taken, during this war, and to intimate
that a refusal would be looked upon as a resolution on their part to
give no quarter. It was visible a cartel would be of great advantage to
the Prince's affairs; his friends would be more ready to declare for him
if they had nothing to fear but the chance of war in the field; and
if the court of London refused to settle a cartel, the Prince was
authorized to treat his prisoners in the same manner the Elector of
Hanover was determined to treat such of the Prince's friends as might
fall into his hands: it was urged that a few examples would compel the
court of London to comply. It was to be presumed that the officers of
the English army would make a point of it. They had never engaged in the
service but upon such terms as are in use among all civilized nations,
and it could be no stain upon their honour to lay down their commissions
if these terms were not observed, and that owing to the obstinacy of
their own Prince. Though this scheme was plausible, and represented as
very important, the Prince could never be brought