Waverley

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Waverley


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.