Waverley

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Loud shouts of triumph now echoed over the whole field. The battle was
fought and won, and the whole baggage, artillery, and military stores
of the regular army remained in possession of the victors. Never was a
victory more complete. Scarce any escaped from the battle, excepting the
cavalry, who had left it at the very onset, and even these were broken
into different parties and scattered all over the country. So far as our
tale is concerned, we have only to relate the fate of Balmawhapple, who,
mounted on a horse as headstrong and stiff-necked as his rider, pursued
the flight of the dragoons above four miles from the field of battle,
when some dozen of the fugitives took heart of grace, turned round, and,
cleaving his skull with their broadswords, satisfied the world that
the unfortunate gentleman had actually brains, the end of his life thus
giving proof of a fact greatly doubted during its progress. His death
was lamented by few. Most of those who knew him agreed in the pithy
observation of Ensign Maccombich, that there 'was mair TINT (lost) at
Sheriff-Muir.' His friend, Lieutenant Jinker, bent his eloquence only
to exculpate his favourite mare from any share in contributing to the
catastrophe. 'He had tauld the laird a thousand times,' he said, 'that
it was a burning shame to put a martingale upon the puir thing, when he
would needs ride her wi' a curb of half a yard lang; and that he could
na but bring himsell (not to say her) to some mischief, by flinging her
down, or otherwise; whereas, if he had had a wee bit rinnin ring on the
snaffle, she wad ha' rein'd as cannily as a cadger's pownie.'

Such was the elegy of the Laird of Balmawhapple. [See Note 28.]



CHAPTER XLVIII

AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT

When the battle was over, and all things coming into order, the Baron
of Bradwardine, returning from the duty of the day, and having disposed
those under his command in their proper stations, sought the Chieftain
of Glennaquoich and his friend Edward Waverley. He found the former
busied in determining disputes among his clansmen about points of
precedence and deeds of valour, besides sundry high and doubtful
questions concerning plunder. The most important of the last respected
the property of a gold watch, which had once belonged to some
unfortunate English officer. The party against whom judgement was
awarded consoled himself by observing, 'She (i.e. the watch, which he
took for a living animal) died the very night Vich Ian Vohr gave her to
Murdock;' the machine having, in fact, stopped for want of winding up.

It was just when this important question was decided, that the Baron of
Bradwardine, with a careful and yet important expression of countenance,
joined the two young men. He descended from his reeking charger, the
care of which he recommended to one of his grooms. 'I seldom ban, sir,'
said he to the man; 'but if you play any of your hound's-foot tricks,
and leave puir Berwick before he's sorted, to rin after spuilzie, deil
be wi' me if I do not; give your craig a thraw. He then stroked with
great complacency the animal which had borne him through the fatigues of
the day, and having taken a tender leave of him,--'Weel, my good young
friends, a glorious and decisive victory,' said he; 'but these loons of
troopers fled ower soon. I should have liked to have shown you the
true points of the PRAELIUM EQUESTRE, or equestrian combat, whilk their
cowardice has postponed, and which I hold to be the pride and terror
of warfare. Weel, I have fought once more in this old quarrel, though I
admit I could not be so far BEN as you lads, being that it was my point
of duty to keep together our handful of horse. And no cavalier ought
in any wise to begrudge honour that befalls his companions, even though
they are ordered upon thrice his danger, whilk, another time, by the
blessing of God, may be his own case.--But, Glennaquoich, and you, Mr.
Waverley, I pray ye to give me your best advice on a matter of
mickle weight, and which deeply affects the honour of the house of
Bradwardine.--I crave your pardon, Ensign Maccombich, and yours,
Inveraughlin, and yours, Edderalshendrach, and yours, sir.'

The last person he addressed was Ballenkeiroch, who, remembering the
death of his son, loured on him with a look of savage defiance. The
Baron, quick as lightning at taking umbrage, had already bent his brow,
when Glennaquoich dragged his major from the spot, and remonstrated
with him, in the authoritative tone of a chieftain, on the madness of
reviving a quarrel in such a moment.

'The ground is cumbered with carcases,' said the old mountaineer,
turning sullenly away; 'ONE MORE would hardly have been kenn'd upon
it; and if it wasna for yoursell, Vich Ian Vohr, that one should be
Bradwardine's or mine.'

The chief soothed while he hurried him away; and then returned to the
Baron. 'It is Ballenkeiroch,' he said, in an under and confidential
voice, 'father of the young man who fell eight years since in the
unlucky affair at the Mains.'

'Ah!' said the Baron, instantly relaxing the doubtful sternness of
his features, 'I can take mickle frae a man to whom I have unhappily
rendered sie a displeasure as that. Ye were right to apprize me,
Glennaquoich; he may look as black as midnight at Martinmas ere Cosmo
Comyne Bradwardine shall say he does him wrang. Ah! I have nae male
lineage, and I should bear with one I have made childless, though
you are aware the blood-wit was made up to your ain satisfaction by
assythment, and that I have since expedited letters of slains.--Weel, as
I have said, I have no male issue, and yet it is needful that I maintain
the honour of my house; and it is on that score I prayed ye for your
peculiar and private attention.'

The two young men awaited to hear him in anxious curiosity.

'I doubt na, lads,' he proceeded, 'but your education has been sae seen
to, that ye understand the true nature of the feudal tenures?'

Fergus, afraid of an endless dissertation, answered, 'Intimately,
Baron,' and touched Waverley, as a signal to express no ignorance.

'And ye are aware, I doubt not, that the holding of the Barony of
Bradwardine is of a nature alike honourable and peculiar, being blanch
(which Craig opines ought to be Latinated BLANCUM, or rather FRANCUM, a
free holding) PRO SERVITIO DETRAHENDI, SEU EXUENDI, CALIGAS REGIS POST
BATTALIAM.' Here Fergus turned his falcon eye upon Edward, with an
almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrow, to which his shoulders
corresponded in the same degree of elevation. 'Now, twa points of
dubitation occur to me upon this topic. First, whether this service,
or feudal homage, be at any event due to the person of the Prince,
the words being, PER EXPRESSUM, CALIGAS REGIS, the boots of the king
himself; and I pray your opinion anent that particular before we proceed
further.'

'Why, he is Prince Regent,' answered Mac-Ivor, with laudable composure
of countenance; 'and in the court of France all the honours are rendered
to the person of the Regent which are due to that of the King. Besides,
were I to pull off either of their boots, I would render that service to
the young Chevalier ten times more willingly than to his father.'

'Aye, but I talk not of personal predilections. However, your authority
is of great weight as to the usages of the court of France: and
doubtless the Prince, as ALTER EGO, may have a right to claim the
HOMAGIUM of the great tenants of the crown, since all faithful subjects
are commanded, in the commission of regency, to respect him as the
king's own person. Far, therefore, be it from me to diminish the lustre
of his authority, by withholding this act of homage, so peculiarly
calculated to give it splendour; for I question if the Emperor of
Germany hath his boots taken off by a free baron of the empire. But
here lieth the second difficulty--The Prince wears no boots, but simply
brogues and trews.'

This last dilemma had almost disturbed Fergus's gravity.

'Why,' said he, 'you know, Baron, the proverb tells us, "It's ill taking
the breeks off a Highlandman,"--and the boots are here in the same
predicament.'

'The word CALIGAE, however,' continued the Baron, 'though I admit, that,
by family tradition, and even in our ancient evidents, it is explained
LIE BOOTS, means, in its primitive sense, rather sandals; and Caius
Caesar, the nephew and successor of Caius Tiberius, received the agnomen
of Caigula, A CALIGULIS, SIVE CALIGIS LEVIORIBUS, QUIBUS ADOLESCENTIOR
USUS FUERAT IN EXERCITU GERMANICI PATRIS SUI. And the CALIGAE were also
proper to the monastic bodies; for we read in an ancient Glossarium,
upon the rule of St. Benedict, in the Abbey of St. Amand, that CALIGAE
were tied with latchets.'

'That will apply to the brogues,' said Fergus.

'It will so, my dear Glennaquoich;--and the words are express:
CALIGAE DICTAE SUNT QUIA LIGANTUR; NAM SOCCI NON LIGANTUR, SED TANTUM
INTROMITTUNTUR; that is, CALIGAE are denominated from the ligatures
wherewith they are bound; whereas SOCCI, which may be analogous to our
mules, whilk the English denominate slippers, are only slipped upon
the feet, The words of the charter are also alternative,--EXUERE, SEU
DETRAHERE; that is, to UNDO, as in the case of sandals or brogues; and
to PULL OF, as we say vernacularly, concerning boots. Yet I would we had
more light; but I fear there is little chance of finding hereabout any
erudite author DE RE VESTIARIA.'

'I should doubt it very much,' said the Chieftain, looking around on
the straggling Highlanders, who were returning loaded with spoils of the
slain, 'though the RES VESTIARIA itself seems to be in some request at
present.'

This remark coming within the Baron's idea of jocularity, he honoured it
with a smile, but immediately resumed what to him appeared very serious
business. 'Bailie Macwheeble indeed holds an opinion, that this honorary
service is due, from its very nature, SI PETATUR TANTUM; only if his
Royal Highness shall require of the great tenant of the crown to perform
that personal duty; and indeed he pointed out the case in Dirleton's
DOUBTS AND QUERIES, Grippit VERSUS Spicer, anent the eviction of an
estate OB NON SOLUTUM CANONEM, that is, for non-payment of a feu-duty of
three peppercorns a year, whilk were taxt to be worth seven-eighths of a
penny Scots, in whilk the defender was assoilzied. But I deem it safest,
wi' your good favour, to place myself in the way of rendering the Prince
this service, and to proffer performance thereof; and I shall cause
the Bailie to attend with a schedule of a protest, whilk he has here
prepared (taking out a paper), intimating, that if it shall be his Royal
Highness's pleasure to accept of other assistance at pulling off his
CALIGAE (whether the same shall be rendered boots or brogues) save that
of the said Baron of Bradwardine, who is in presence ready and willing
to perform the same, it shall in no wise impinge upon or prejudice the
right of the said Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine to perform the said service
in future; nor shall it give any esquire, valet of the chamber, squire,
or page, whose assistance it may please his Royal Highness to employ,
any right, title, or ground, for evicting from the said Cosmo Comyne
Bradwardine the estate and barony of Bradwardine, and others held as
aforesaid, by the due and faithful performance thereof.'

Fergus highly applauded this arrangement; and the Baron took a friendly
leave of them, with a smile of contented importance upon his visage.

'Long live our dear friend the Baron,' exclaimed the Chief, as soon as
he was out of hearing, 'for the most absurd original that exists north
of the Tweed! I wish to heaven I had recommended him to attend the
circle this evening with a boot-ketch under his arm. I think he might
have adopted the suggestion, if it had been made with suitable gravity.'

'And how can you take pleasure in making a man of his worth so
ridiculous?'

'Begging pardon, my dear Waverley, you are as ridiculous as he. Why, do
you not see that the man's whole mind is wrapped up in this ceremony? He
has heard and thought of it since infancy, as the most august privilege
and ceremony in the world; and I doubt not but the expected pleasure of
performing it was a principal motive with him for taking up arms. Depend
upon it, had I endeavoured to divert him from exposing himself, he would
have treated me as an ignorant conceited coxcomb, or perhaps might have
taken a fancy to cut my throat; a pleasure which he once proposed to
himself upon some point of etiquette, not half so important, in his
eyes, as this matter of boots or brogues, or whatever the CALIGAE shall
finally be pronounced by the learned. But I must go to head-quarters to
prepare the Prince for this extraordinary scene. My information will be
well taken, for it will give him a hearty laugh at present, and put him
on his guard against laughing, when it might be very MAL-A-PROPOS. So,
AU REVOIR, my dear Waverley.'



CHAPTER XLIX

THE ENGLISH PRISONER

The first occupation of Waverley, after he departed from the Chieftain,
was to go in quest of the officer whose life he had saved. He was
guarded, along with his companions in misfortune, who were very
numerous, in a gentleman's house near the field of battle.

On entering the room where they stood crowded together, Waverley easily
recognized the object of his visit, not only by the peculiar dignity
of his appearance, but by the appendage of Dugald Mahony, with his
battle-axe, who had stuck to him from the moment of his captivity, as
if he had been skewered to his side. This close attendance was, perhaps,
for the purpose of securing his promised reward from Edward, but it also
operated to save the English gentleman from being plundered in the scene
of general confusion; for Dugald sagaciously argued, that the amount of
the salvage which he might be allowed, would be regulated by the
state of the prisoner, when he should deliver him over to Waverley, He
hastened to assure Waverley, therefore, with more words than he usually
employed, that he had 'keepit ta SIDIER ROY haill, and that he wasna a
plack the waur since the fery moment when his honour forbad her to gie
him a bit clamhewit wi' her Lochaber-axe.'

Waverley assured Dugald of a liberal recompense, and, approaching
the English officer, expressed his anxiety to do anything which
might contribute to his convenience under his present unpleasant
circumstances.

'I am not so inexperienced a soldier, sir,' answered the Englishman, 'as
to complain of the fortune of war. I am only grieved to see those scenes
acted in our own island, which I have often witnessed elsewhere with
comparative indifference.'

'Another such day as this,' said Waverley, 'and I trust the cause of
your regrets will be removed, and all will again return to peace and
order.'

The officer smiled and shook his head. 'I must not forget my situation
so far as to attempt a formal confutation of that opinion; but,
notwithstanding your success, and the valour which achieved it, you have
undertaken a task to which your strength appears wholly inadequate.'

At this moment Fergus pushed into the press.

'Come, Edward, come along; the Prince has gone to Pinkie-house for the
night; and we must follow, or lose the whole ceremony of the CALIGAE.
Your friend, the Baron, has been guilty of a great piece of cruelty; he
has insisted upon dragging Bailie Macwheeble out to the field of battle.
Now you must know the Bailie's greatest horror is an armed Highlander,
or a loaded gun; and there he stands, listening to the Baron's
instructions concerning the protest; ducking his head like a sea-gull
at the report of every gun and pistol that our idle boys are firing
upon the fields; and undergoing, by way of penance, at every symptom
of flinching, a severe rebuke from his patron, who would not admit the
discharge of a whole battery of cannon, within point-blank distance, as
an apology for neglecting a discourse, in which the honour of his family
is interested.

'But how has Mr. Bradwardine got him to venture so far?' said Edward.

'Why, he had come as far as Musselburgh, I fancy, in hopes of making
some of our wills; and the peremptory commands of the Baron dragged him
forward to Preston after the battle was over. He complains of one or two
of our ragamuffins having put him in peril of his life, by presenting
their pieces at him; but as they limited his ransom to an English penny,
I don't think we need trouble the provost-marshal upon that subject. So,
come along, Waverley.'

'Waverley!' said the English officer, with great emotion; 'the nephew of
Sir Everard Waverley, of --shire?'

'The same, sir,' replied our hero, somewhat surprised at the tone in
which he was addressed.

'I am at once happy and grieved,' said the prisoner, 'to have met with
you.'

'I am ignorant, sir,' answered Waverley, 'how I have deserved so much
interest.'

'Did your uncle never mention a friend called Talbot?'

'I have heard him talk with great regard of such a person,' replied
Edward; 'a colonel, I believe, in the army, and the husband of Lady
Emily Blandeville; but I thought Colonel Talbot had been abroad.'

'I am just returned,' answered the officer; 'and being in Scotland,
thought it my duty to act where my services promised to be useful. Yes,
Mr. Waverley, I am that Colonel Talbot, the husband of the lady you have
named; and I am proud to acknowledge, that I owe alike my professional
rank and my domestic happiness to your generous and noble-minded
relative. Good God! that I should find his nephew in such a dress, and
engaged in such a cause!'

'Sir,' said Fergus, haughtily, 'the dress and cause are those of men of
birth and honour.'

'My situation forbids me to dispute your assertion,' said Colonel
Talbot; 'otherwise it were no difficult matter to show, that neither
courage nor pride of lineage can gild a bad cause. But, with Mr.
Waverley's permission, and yours, sir, if yours also must be asked, I
would willingly speak a few words with him on affairs connected with his
own family.'

'Mr. Waverley, sir, regulates his own motions. You will follow me, I
suppose, to Pinkie,' said Fergus, turning to Edward, 'when you have
finished your discourse with this new acquaintance?' So saying, the
Chief of Glennaquoich adjusted his plaid with rather more than his usual
air of haughty assumption, and left the apartment.

The interest of Waverley readily procured for Colonel Talbot the freedom
of adjourning to a large garden belonging to his place of confinement.
They walked a few paces in silence, Colonel Talbot apparently studying
how to open what he had to say; at length he addressed Edward.

'Mr. Waverley, you have this day saved my life; and yet I would to God
that I had lost it, ere I had found you wearing the uniform and cockade
of these men.'

'I forgive your reproach, Colonel Talbot; it is well meant, and your
education and prejudices render it natural. But there is nothing
extraordinary in finding a man, whose honour has been publicly and
unjustly assailed, in the situation which promised most fair to afford
him satisfaction on his calumniators.'

'I should rather say, in the situation most likely to confirm the
reports which they have circulated,' said Colonel Talbot, 'by following
the very line of conduct ascribed to you. Are you aware, Mr. Waverley,
of the infinite distress, and even danger, which your present conduct
has occasioned to your nearest relatives?'

'Danger!'

'Yes, sir, danger. When I left England, your uncle and father had been
obliged to find bail to answer a charge of treason, to which they were
only admitted by the exertion of the most powerful interest. I came down
to Scotland, with the sole purpose of rescuing you from the gulf
into which you have precipitated yourself; nor can I estimate the
consequences to your family, of your having openly joined the rebellion,
since the very suspicion of your intention was so perilous to them. Most
deeply do I regret that I did not meet you before this last and fatal
error.'

'I am really ignorant,' said Waverley, in a tone of reserve, 'why
Colonel Talbot should have taken so much trouble on my account.'

'Mr. Waverley,' answered Talbot, 'I am dull at apprehending irony; and
therefore I shall answer your words according to their plain meaning.
I am indebted to your uncle for benefits greater than those which a son
owes to a father. I acknowledge to him the duty of a son; and as I know
there is no manner in which I can requite his kindness so well as by
serving you, I will serve you, if possible, whether you will permit me
or no. The personal obligation which you have this day laid me under
(although in common estimation as great as one human being can bestow
on another) adds nothing to my zeal on your behalf; nor can that zeal be
abated by any coolness with which you may please to receive it.'

'Your intentions may be kind, sir,' said Waverley, drily; 'but your
language is harsh, or at least peremptory.'

'On my return to England,' continued Colonel Talbot, 'after long
absence, I found your uncle, Sir Everard Waverley, in the custody of a
king's messenger, in consequence of the suspicion brought upon him by
your conduct. He is my oldest friend--how often shall I repeat it?--my
best benefactor; he sacrificed his own views of happiness to mine--he
never uttered a word, he never harboured a thought, that benevolence
itself might not have thought or spoken. I found this man in
confinement, rendered harsher to him by his habits of life, his natural
dignity of feeling, and--forgive me, Mr. Waverley--by the cause through
which this calamity had come upon him. I cannot disguise from you my
feelings upon this occasion; they were most painfully unfavourable
to you. Having, by my family interest, which you probably know is not
inconsiderable, succeeded in obtaining Sir Everard's release, I set
out for Scotland. I saw Colonel Gardiner, a man whose fate alone is
sufficient to render this insurrection for ever execrable. In the course
of conversation with him, I found, that, from late circumstances, from
a re-examination of the persons engaged in the mutiny, and from his
original good opinion of your character, he was much softened towards
you; and I doubted not, that if I could be so fortunate as to discover
you, all might yet be well. But this unnatural rebellion has ruined
all. I have, for the first time in a long and active military life, seen
Britons disgrace themselves by a panic flight, and that before a foe
without either arms or discipline: and now I find the heir of my dearest
friend--the son, I may say, of his affections--sharing a triumph, for
which he ought the first to have blushed. Why should I lament Gardiner?
his lot was happy, compared to mine!'

There was so much dignity in Colonel Talbot's manner, such a mixture
of military pride and manly sorrow, and the news of Sir Everard's
imprisonment was told in so deep a tone of feeling, that Edward stood
mortified, abashed, and distressed in presence of the prisoner, who
owed to him his life not many hours before. He was not sorry when Fergus
interrupted their conference a second time.

'His Royal Highness commands Mr. Waverley's attendance.' Colonel Talbot
threw upon Edward a reproachful glance, which did not escape the quick
eye of the Highland Chief. 'His immediate attendance,' he repeated, with
considerable emphasis. Waverley turned again towards the Colonel.

'We shall meet again,' he said; 'in the meanwhile, every possible
accommodation'--

'I desire none,' said the Colonel; 'let me fare like the meanest of
those brave men, who, on this day of calamity, have preferred wounds and
captivity to flight; I would, almost exchange places with one of those
who have fallen, to know that my words have made a suitable impression
on your mind.'

'Let Colonel Talbot be carefully secured,' said Fergus to the Highland
officer, who commanded the guard over the prisoners; 'it is the Prince's
particular command; he is a prisoner of the utmost importance.'

'But let him want no accommodation suitable to his rank,' said Waverley.

'Consistent always with secure custody,' reiterated Fergus. The officer
signified his acquiescence in both commands, and Edward followed Fergus
to the garden-gate, where Callum Beg, with three saddle-horses, awaited
them. Turning his head, he saw Colonel Talbot reconducted to his place
of confinement by a file of Highlanders; he lingered on the threshold
of the door, and made a signal with his hand towards Waverley, as if
enforcing the language he had held towards him.

'Horses,' said Fergus, as he mounted, 'are now as plenty as
blackberries; every man may have them for the catching. Come, let Callum
adjust your stirrups, and let us to Pinkie-house [Charles Edward took
up his quarters after the battle at Pinkie-house, adjoining to
Musselburgh.] as fast as these CI-DEVANT dragoon-horses choose to carry
us.'



CHAPTER L

RATHER UNIMPORTANT

'I was turned back,' said Fergus to Edward, as they galloped from
Preston to Pinkie-house, 'by a message from the Prince. But, I suppose,
you know the value of this most noble Colonel Talbot as a prisoner. He
is held one of the best officers among the red-coats; a special friend
and favourite of the Elector himself, and of that dreadful hero, the
Duke of Cumberland, who has been summoned from his triumphs at Fontenoy,
to come over and devour us poor Highlanders alive. Has he been telling
you how the bells of St. James's ring? Not "turn again, Whittington,"
like those of Bow, in the days of yore?'