Waverley

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Waverley


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.