Waverley

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Waverley


'Now, Heaven be praised!' thought Edward, 'that Sir Everard does not
hear these scruples!--the three ermines passsat and rampant bear would
certainly have gone together by the ears.' He then, with all the ardour
of a young lover, assured the Baron, that he sought for his happiness
only in Rose's heart and hand, and thought himself as happy in her
father's simple approbation, as if he had settled an earldom upon his
daughter.

They now reached Little Veolan. The goose was smoking on the table, and
the Bailie brandished his knife and fork. A joyous greeting took place
between him and his patron. The kitchen, too, had its company. Auld
Janet was established at the ingle-nook; Davie had turned the spit
to his immortal honour; and even Ban and Buscar, in the liberality of
Macwheeble's joy, had been stuffed to the throat with food, and now lay
snoring on the floor.

The next day conducted the Baron and his young friend to the Duchran,
where the former was expected, in consequence of the success of the
nearly unanimous application of the Scottish friends of Government in
his favour. This had been so general and so powerful, that it was almost
thought his estate might have been saved, had it not passed into the
rapacious hands-of his unworthy kinsman, whose right, arising out of the
Baron's attainder, could not be affected by a pardon from the crown.
The old gentleman, however, said, with his usual spirit, he was
more gratified by the hold he possessed in the good opinion of his
neighbours, than he would have been in being 'rehabilitated and restored
IN INTEGRUM, had it been found practicable.'

We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the father and
daughter,--loving each other so affectionately, and separated under such
perilous circumstances. Still less shall we attempt to analyse the deep
blush of Rose, at receiving the compliments of Waverley, or stop to
inquire whether she had any curiosity respecting the particular cause of
his journey to Scotland at that period. We shall not; even trouble the
reader with the humdrum details of a courtship Sixty Years since. It is
enough to say, that, under so strict a martinet as the Baron, all things
were conducted in due form. He took upon himself, the morning after
their arrival, the task of announcing the proposal of Waverley to Rose,
which she heard with a proper degree of maiden timidity. Fame does,
however, say, that Waverley had, the evening before, found five minutes
to apprize her of what was coming, while the rest of the company were
looking at three twisted serpents which formed a JET D'EAU in the
garden.

My fair readers will judge for themselves; but, for my part, I cannot
conceive how so important an affair could be communicated in so short a
space of time;--at least, it certainly took a full hour in the Baron's
mode of conveying it.

Waverley was now considered as a received lover in all the forms. He
was made, by dint of smirking and nodding on the part of the lady of
the house, to sit next to Miss Bradwardine at dinner, to be Miss
Bradwardine's partner at cards. If he came into the room, she of the
four Miss Rubricks who chanced to be next Rose, was sure to recollect
that her thimble, or her scissors, were at the other end of the room,
in order to leave the seat nearest to Miss Bradwardine vacant for his
occupation, And sometimes, if papa and mamma were not in the way to keep
them on their good behaviour, the misses would titter a little. The old
laird of Duchran would also have his occasional jest, and the old lady
her remark. Even the Baron could not refrain; but here Rose escaped
every embarrassment but that of conjecture, for his wit was usually
couched in a Latin quotation. The very footmen sometimes grinned too
broadly, the maid-servants giggled mayhap too loud, and a provoking
air of intelligence seemed to pervade the whole family. Alice Bean, the
pretty maid of the cavern, who, after her father's MISFORTUNE, as she
called it, had attended Rose as fille-de-chambre, smiled and smirked
with the best of them. Rose and Edward, however, endured all these
little vexatious circumstances as other folks have done before and
since, and probably contrived to obtain some indemnification, since they
are not supposed, on the whole, to have been particularly unhappy during
Waverley's six days' stay at the Duchran.

It was finally arranged that Edward should go to Waverley-Honour to make
the necessary arrangements for his marriage, thence to London to take
the proper measures for pleading his pardon, and return as soon as
possible to claim the hand of his plighted bride. He also intended in
his journey to visit Colonel Talbot; but, above all, it was his
most important object to learn the fate of the unfortunate Chief of
Glennaquoich; to visit him at Carlisle, and to try whether anything
could be done for procuring, if not a pardon, a commutation at least, or
alleviation, of the punishment to which he was almost certain of being
condemned;--and in case of the worst, to offer the miserable Flora an
asylum with Rose, or otherwise to assist her views in any mode which
might seem possible. The fate of Fergus seemed hard to be averted.
Edward had already striven to interest his friend Colonel Talbot in his
behalf; but had been given distinctly to understand, by his reply, that
his credit in matters of that nature was totally exhausted.

The Colonel was still in Edinburgh, and proposed to wait there for some
months upon business confided to him by the Duke of Cumberland. He was
to be joined by Lady Emily, to whom easy travelling and goat's whey
were recommended, and who was to journey northward, under the escort of
Francis Stanley. Edward, therefore, met the Colonel at Edinburgh, who
wished him joy in the kindest manner on his approaching happiness, and
cheerfully undertook many commissions which our hero was necessarily
obliged to delegate to his charge. But on the subject of Fergus he was
inexorable. He satisfied Edward, indeed, that his interference would
be unavailing; but besides, Colonel Talbot owned that he could not
conscientiously use any influence in favour of that unfortunate
gentleman. 'Justice,' he said, 'which demanded some penalty of those who
had wrapped the whole nation in fear and in mourning, could not perhaps
have selected a fitter victim, He came to the field with the fullest
light upon the nature of his attempt. He had studied and understood the
subject. His father's fate could not intimidate him; the lenity of the
laws which had restored to him his father's property and rights could
not melt him. That he was brave, generous, and possessed many good
qualities, only rendered him the more dangerous; that he was enlightened
and accomplished, made his crime the less excusable; that he was an
enthusiast in a wrong cause, only made him the more fit to be its
martyr. Above all, he had been the means of bringing many hundreds of
men into the field, who, without him, would never have broken the peace
of the country.

'I repeat it,' said the Colonel, 'though Heaven knows with a heart
distressed for him as an individual, that this young gentleman has
studied and fully understood the desperate game which he has played.
He threw for life or death, a coronet or a coffin; and he cannot now be
permitted, with justice to the country, to draw stakes because the dice
have gone against him.'

Such was the reasoning of those times, held even by brave and humane men
towards a vanquished enemy. Let us devoutly hope, that, in this respect
at least, we shall never see the scenes, or hold the sentiments, that
were general in Britain Sixty Years since.



CHAPTER LXVIII:

To-morrow? Oh that's sudden! Spare him! spare him!
SHAKESPEARE.

Edward, attended by his former servant Alick Polwarth, who had
re-entered his service at Edinburgh, reached Carlisle while the
commission of Oyer and Terminer on his unfortunate associates was yet
sitting. He had pushed forward in haste,--not, alas! with the most
distant hope of saving Fergus, but to see him for the last time. I ought
to have mentioned, that he had furnished funds for the defence of the
prisoners in the most liberal manner, as soon as he heard that the day
of trial was fixed. A solicitor, and the first counsel, accordingly
attended; but it was upon the same footing on which the first physicians
are usually summoned to the bedside of some dying man of rank;--the
doctors to take the advantage of some incalculable chance of an exertion
of nature--the lawyers to avail themselves of the barely possible
occurrence of some legal flaw. Edward pressed into the court, which was
extremely crowded; but by his arriving from the north, and his extreme
eagerness and agitation, it was supposed he was a relation of the
prisoners, and people made way for him. It was the third sitting of
the court, and there were two men at the bar. The verdict of GUILTY was
already pronounced. Edward just glanced at the bar during the momentous
pause which ensued. There was no mistaking the stately form and noble
features of Fergus Mac-Ivor, although his dress was squalid, and
his countenance tinged with the sickly yellow hue of long and close
imprisonment. By his side was Evan Maccombich. Edward felt sick and
dizzy as he gazed on them; but he was recalled to himself as the
Clerk of the Arraigns pronounced the solemn words: 'Fergus Mac-Ivor of
Glennaquoich, otherwise called Vich Ian Vohr, and Evan Mac-Ivor, in the
Dhu of Tarrascleugh, otherwise called Evan Dhu, otherwise called
Evan Maccombich, or Evan Dhu Maccombich--you, and each of you, stand
attainted of high treason. What have you to say for yourselves why the
Court should not pronounce judgement against you, that you die according
to law?'

Fergus, as the presiding Judge was putting on the fatal cap of
judgement, placed his own bonnet upon his head, regarded him with a
steadfast and stern look, and replied in a firm voice, 'I cannot let
this numerous audience suppose that to such an appeal I have no answer
to make. But what I have to say, you would not bear to hear, for my
defence would be your condemnation. Proceed, then, in the name of God,
to do what is permitted to you. Yesterday, and the day before, you have
condemned loyal and honourable blood to be poured forth like water.
Spare not mine. Were that of all my ancestors in my veins, I would have
peril'd it in this quarrel.' He resumed his seat, and refused again to
rise.

Evan Maccombich looked at him with great earnestness, and, rising
up, seemed anxious to speak; but the confusion of the court, and the
perplexity arising from thinking in a language different from that in
which he was to express himself, kept him silent. There was a murmur
of compassion among the spectators, from an idea that the poor fellow
intended to plead the influence of his superior as an excuse for his
crime. The Judge commanded silence, and encouraged Evan to proceed.

'I was only ganging to say, my lord,' said Evan, in what he meant to
be in an insinuating manner, 'that if your excellent honour, and the
honourable Court, would let Vich Ian Vohr go free just this once, and
let him gae back to France, and no to trouble King George's government
again, that ony six o' the very best of his clan will be willing to
be justified in his stead; and if you'll just let me gae down to
Glennaquoich, I'll fetch them up to ye mysel, to head or hang, and you
may begin wi' me the very first man.'

Notwithstanding the solemnity of the occasion, a sort of laugh was heard
in the court at the extraordinary nature of the proposal. The Judge
checked this indecency, and Evan, looking sternly around, when the
murmur abated, 'If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing,' he said, 'because
a poor man, such as me, thinks my life, or the life of six of my degree,
is worth that of Vich Ian Vohr, it's like enough they may be very right;
but if they laugh because they think I would not keep my word, and come
back to redeem him, I can tell them they ken neither the heart of a
Hielandman, nor the honour of a gentleman.'

There was no further inclination to laugh among the audience, and a dead
silence ensued.

The Judge then pronounced upon both prisoners the sentence of the law
of high treason, with all its horrible accompaniments. The execution was
appointed for the ensuing day. 'For you, Fergus Mac-Ivor,' continued
the Judge, 'I can hold out no hope of mercy. You must prepare
against to-morrow for your last sufferings here, and your great audit
hereafter.'

'I desire nothing else, my lord,' answered Fergus, in the same manly and
firm tone.

The hard eyes of Evan, which had been perpetually bent on his Chief,
were moistened with a tear. 'For you, poor ignorant man,' continued the
Judge, 'who, following the ideas in which you have been educated, have
this day given us a striking example how the loyalty due to the king
and state alone, is, from your unhappy ideas of clanship, transferred
to some ambitious individual, who ends by making you the tool of his
crimes--for you, I say, I feel so much compassion, that if you can make
up your mind to petition for grace, I will endeavour to procure if for
you. Otherwise--'

'Grace me no grace,' said Evan; 'since you are to shed Vich Ian Vohr's
blood, the only favour I would accept from you, is--to bid them loose my
hands and gie me my claymore, and bide you just a minute sitting where
you are!'

'Remove the prisoners,' said the Judge; 'his blood be upon his own
head.'

Almost stupefied with his feelings, Edward found that the rush of the
crowd had conveyed him out into the street, ere he knew what he was
doing.--His immediate wish was to see and speak with Fergus once more.
He applied at the Castle where his unfortunate friend was confined, but
was refused admittance. 'The High Sheriff,' a non-commissioned officer
said, 'had requested of the governor that none should be admitted to see
the prisoner excepting his confessor and his sister.'

'And where was Miss Mac-Ivor?' They gave him the direction, It was the
house of a respectable Catholic family near Carlisle.

Repulsed from the gate of the Castle, and not venturing to make
application to the High Sheriff or Judges in his own unpopular name,
he had recourse to the solicitor who came down in Fergus's behalf. This
gentleman told him, that it was thought the public mind was in danger of
being debauched by the account of the last moments of these persons, as
given by the friends of the Pretender; that there had been a resolution,
therefore, to exclude all such persons as had not the plea of near
kindred for attending upon them. Yet he promised (to oblige the heir of
Waverley-Honour) to get him an order for admittance to the prisoner the
next morning, before his irons were knocked off for execution.

'Is it of Fergus Mac-Ivor they speak thus,' thought Waverley 'or do I
dream? of Fergus, the bold, the chivalrous, the free-minded,--the lofty
chieftain of a tribe devoted to him? Is it he, that I have seen lead the
chase and head the attack,--the brave, the active, the young, the noble,
the love of ladies, and the theme of song,--is it he who is ironed like
a malefactor--who is to be dragged on a hurdle to the common gallows--to
die a lingering and cruel death, and to be mangled by the hand of the
most outcast of wretches? Evil indeed was the spectre that boded such a
fate as this to the brave Chief of Glennaquoich!'

With a faltering voice he requested the solicitor to find means to warn
Fergus of his intended visit, should he obtain permission to make it. He
then turned away from him, and, returning to the inn, wrote a scarcely
intelligible note to Flora Mac-Ivor, intimating his purpose to wait
upon her that evening. The messenger brought back a letter in Flora's
beautiful Italian hand, which seemed scarce to tremble even under this
load of misery. 'Miss Flora Mac-Ivor,' the letter bore, 'could not
refuse to see the dearest friend of her dear brother, even in her
present circumstances of unparalleled distress.'

When Edward reached Miss Mac-Ivor's present place of abode, he was
instantly admitted. In a large and gloomy tapestried apartment, Flora
was seated by a latticed window, sewing what seemed to be a garment of
white flannel. At a little distance sat an elderly woman, apparently
a foreigner, and of a religious order. She was reading in a book of
Catholic devotion; but when Waverley entered, laid it on the table and
left the room. Flora rose to receive him, and stretched out her hand,
but neither ventured to attempt speech. Her fine complexion was totally
gone; her person considerably emaciated; and her face and hands as white
as the purest statuary marble, forming a strong contrast with her sable
dress and jet-black hair. Yet, amid these marks of distress, there
was nothing negligent or ill-arranged about her attire; even her hair,
though totally without ornament, was disposed with her usual attention
to neatness. The first words she uttered were, 'Have you seen him?'

'Alas, no,' answered Waverley; 'I have been refused admittance.'

'It accords with the rest,' she said; 'but we must submit. Shall you
obtain leave, do you suppose?'

'For--for--to-morrow,' said Waverley; but muttering the last word so
faintly that it was almost unintelligible.

'Aye, then or never,' said Flora, 'until'--she added, looking upward,
'the time when, I trust, we shall all meet. But I hope you will see him
while earth yet bears him. He always loved you at his heart, though--but
it is vain to talk of the past.'

'Vain indeed!' echoed Waverley.

'Or even of the future, my good friend,' said Flora, 'so far as earthly
events are concerned; for how often have I pictured to myself the strong
possibility of this horrid issue, and tasked myself to consider how I
could support my part; and yet how far has all my anticipation fallen
short of the unimaginable bitterness of this hour!'

'Dear Flora, if your strength of mind'--

'Aye, there it is,' she answered, somewhat wildly; 'there is, Mr.
Waverley, there is a busy devil at my heart, that whispers--but it were
madness to listen to it--that the strength of mind on which Flora prided
herself has murdered her brother!'

'Good God! how can you give utterance to a thought so shocking?'

'Aye, is it not so?--but yet it haunts me like a phantom: I know it is
unsubstantial and vain; but it will be present--will intrude its horrors
on my mind--will whisper that my brother, as volatile as ardent, would
have divided his energies amid a hundred objects. It was I who taught
him to concentrate them, and to gage all on this dreadful and desperate
cast. Oh that I could recollect that I had but once said to him, "He
that striketh with the sword shall die by the sword"; that I had but
once said, Remain at home; reserve yourself, your vassals, your life,
for enterprises within the reach of man. But oh, Mr. Waverley, I spurred
his fiery temper, and half of his ruin at least lies with his sister.'

The horrid idea which she had intimated, Edward endeavoured to combat by
every incoherent argument that occurred to him. He recalled to her the
principles on which both thought it their duty to act, and in which they
had been educated.

'Do not think I have forgotten them,' she said, looking up, with eager
quickness; 'I do not regret his attempt, because it was wrong--oh no!
on that point I am armed--but because it was impossible it could end
otherwise than thus.'

'Yet it did not always seem so desperate and hazardous as it was; and
it would have been chosen by the bold spirit of Fergus, whether you
had approved it or no; your counsels only served to give unity and
consistence to his conduct; to dignify, but not to precipitate his
resolution.' Flora had soon ceased to listen to Edward, and was again
intent upon her needlework.

'Do you remember,' she said, looking up with a ghastly smile, 'you
once found me making Fergus's bride-favours, and now I am sewing his
bridal-garment. Our friends here,' she continued, with suppressed
emotion, 'are to give hallowed earth in their chapel to the bloody
relies of the last Vich Ian Vohr. But they will not all rest together;
no--his head!---I shall not have the last miserable consolation of
kissing the cold lips of my dear, dear Fergus!'

The unfortunate Flora here, after one or two hysterical sobs, fainted
in her chair. The lady, who had been attending in the ante-room, now
entered hastily, and begged Edward to leave the room, but not the house.

When he was recalled, after the space of nearly half an hour, he found
that, by a strong effort, Miss Mac-Ivor had greatly composed herself. It
was then he ventured to urge Miss Bradwardine's claim to be considered
as an adopted sister, and empowered to assist her plans for the future.

'I have had a letter from my dear Rose,' she replied, 'to the same
purpose. Sorrow is selfish and engrossing, or I would have written to
express that, even in my own despair, I felt a gleam of pleasure at
learning her happy prospects, and at hearing that the good old Baron has
escaped the general wreck. Give this to my dearest Rose; it is her poor
Flora's only ornament of value, and was the gift of a princess.' She put
into his hands a case containing the chain of diamonds with which she
used to decorate her hair. 'To me it is in future useless. The kindness
of my friends has secured me a retreat in the convent of the Scottish
Benedictine nuns in Paris. To-morrow--if indeed I can survive
to-morrow--I set forward on my journey with this venerable sister. And
now, Mr. Waverley, adieu! May you be as happy with Rose as your amiable
dispositions deserve!--and think sometimes on the friends you have lost.
Do not attempt to see me again; it would be mistaken kindness.'

She gave him her hand, on which Edward shed a torrent of tears, and,
with a faltering step, withdrew from the apartment, and returned to
the town of Carlisle. At the inn he found a letter from his law friend,
intimating that he would be admitted to Fergus next morning as soon as
the Castle gates were opened, and permitted to remain with him till the
arrival of the Sheriff gave signal for the fatal procession.



CHAPTER LXIX

--A darker departure is near,
The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier.
CAMPBELL.

After a sleepless night, the first dawn of morning found Waverley on
the esplanade in front of the old Gothic gate of Carlisle Castle. But he
paced it long in every direction, before the hour when, according to the
rules of the garrison, the gates were opened and the drawbridge lowered.
He produced his order to the sergeant of the guard, and was admitted.

The place of Fergus's confinement was a gloomy and vaulted apartment
in the central part of the Castle--a huge old tower, supposed to be of
great antiquity, and surrounded by outworks, seemingly of Henry VIII's
time, or somewhat later. The grating of the large old-fashioned bars and
bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by
the clash of chains, as the unfortunate Chieftain, strongly and heavily
fettered, shuffled along the stone floor of his prison, to fling himself
into his friend's arms.

'My dear Edward,' he said, in a firm, and even cheerful voice, 'this
is truly kind. I heard of your approaching happiness with the highest
pleasure. And how does Rose? and how is our old whimsical friend the
Baron? Well, I trust, since I see you at freedom--And how will you
settle precedence between the three ermines passant and the bear and
bootjack?'

'How, oh how, my dear Fergus, can you talk of such things at such a
moment!'

'Why, we have entered Carlisle with happier auspices, to be sure--on the
16th of November last, for example, when we marched in, side by side,
and hoisted the white flag on these ancient towers. But I am no boy, to
sit down and weep because the luck has gone against me. I knew the stake
which I risked; we played the game boldly, and the forfeit shall be paid
manfully. And now, since my time is short, let me come to the questions
that interest me most--The Prince? has he escaped the bloodhounds?'

'He has, and is in safety.'

'Praised be God for that! Tell me the particulars of his escape.'

Waverley communicated that remarkable history, so far as it had then
transpired, to which Fergus listened with deep interest. He then asked
after several other friends; and made many minute inquiries concerning
the fate of his own clansmen. They had suffered less than other tribes
who had been engaged in the affair; for, having in a great measure
dispersed and returned home after the captivity of their Chieftain,
according to the universal custom of the Highlanders, they were not in
arms when the insurrection was finally suppressed, and consequently were
treated with less rigour. This Fergus heard with great satisfaction.

'You are rich,' he said, 'Waverley, and you are generous. When you
hear of these poor Mac-Ivors being distressed about their miserable
possessions by some harsh overseer or agent of Government, remember you
have worn their tartan, and are an adopted son of their race. The Baron,
who knows our manners, and lives near our country, will apprize you of
the time and means to be their protector. Will you promise this to the
last Vich Ian Vohr?'