Waverley

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'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!'