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Waverley, Volume I

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Waverley, Volume I




ROSE COMYNE BRADWARDINE.

P.S.--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 connection
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
accessary 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 was 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 judgment 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--, etc., 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?'

[Footnote: A Highland rhyme on Glencairn's Expedition, in 1650,
has these lines--

We'll bide a while amang 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 [Footnote: 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 keystones 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 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.' [Footnote: The sanguine Jacobites, during the eventful years
1745-46, 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 perspective. 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
every-day 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 [Footnote: 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 it 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
mossy, 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 backsliders 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
mutterings; 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?'

'Ay; 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 onything till a poor body, or in the way of a
lawing.'

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

'Ay, 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 teil 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.

There 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 Church-Yard 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 honour'd 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 swell'd thy dauntless heart,
And, while Despair the scene was closing,
Commenced thy brief but brilliant part.

'T was then thou sought'st on Albyn's hill,
(When England's sons the strife resign'd)
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 clamourous pibroch sung.

Yet who, in Fortune's summer-shine
To waste life's longest term away,
Would change that glorious dawn of thine,
Though darken'd 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 overshadowed both, and, being
buttoned beneath the chin, was called a trot-cozy. His hand
grasped a huge jockey-whip, garnished with brassmounting. 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: 'Yer horses
are ready.'

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