الفصل الفصل 41 · THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP

. THE MYSTERY BEGINS TO BE CLEARED UP

“How do you like him?” was Fergus’s first question, as they descended

the large stone staircase.

“A prince to live and die under” was Waverley’s enthusiastic answer.

“I knew you would think so when you saw him, and I intended you should

have met earlier, but was prevented by your sprain. And yet he has his

foibles, or rather he has difficult cards to play, and his Irish

officers,[30] who are much about him, are but sorry advisers: they

cannot discriminate among the numerous pretensions that are set up.

Would you think it—I have been obliged for the present to suppress an

earl’s patent, granted for services rendered ten years ago, for fear of

exciting the jealousy, forsooth, of C—— and M——? But you were very

right, Edward, to refuse the situation of aide-de-camp. There are two

vacant, indeed, but Clanronald and Lochiel, and almost all of us, have

requested one for young Aberchallader, and the Lowlanders and the Irish

party are equally desirous to have the other for the master of F——.

Now, if either of these candidates were to be superseded in your

favour, you would make enemies. And then I am surprised that the Prince

should have offered you a majority, when he knows very well that

nothing short of lieutenant-colonel will satisfy others, who cannot

bring one hundred and fifty men to the field. “But patience, cousin,

and shuffle the cards!” It is all very well for the present, and we

must have you properly equipped for the evening in your new costume;

for, to say truth, your outward man is scarce fit for a court.”

“Why,” said Waverley, looking at his soiled dress, “my shooting jacket

has seen service since we parted; but that probably you, my friend,

know as well or better than I.”

“You do my second-sight too much honour,” said Fergus. “We were so

busy, first with the scheme of giving battle to Cope, and afterwards

with our operations in the Lowlands, that I could only give general

directions to such of our people as were left in Perthshire to respect

and protect you, should you come in their way. But let me hear the full

story of your adventures, for they have reached us in a very partial

and mutilated manner.”

Waverley then detailed at length the circumstances with which the

reader is already acquainted, to which Fergus listened with great

attention. By this time they had reached the door of his quarters,

which he had taken up in a small paved court, retiring from the street

called the Canongate, at the house of a buxom widow of forty, who

seemed to smile very graciously upon the handsome young Chief, she

being a person with whom good looks and good-humour were sure to secure

an interest, whatever might be the party’s “political opinions”. Here

Callum Beg received them with a smile of recognition. “Callum,” said

the Chief, “call Shemus an Snachad” (James of the Needle). This was the

hereditary tailor of Vich Ian Vohr. “Shemus, Mr. Waverley is to wear

the _cath dath_ (battle colour, or tartan); his trews must be ready in

four hours. You know the measure of a well-made man—two double nails to

the small of the leg—”

“Eleven from haunch to heel, seven round the waist. I give your honour

leave to hang Shemus, if there’s a pair of sheers in the Highlands that

has a baulder sneck than her’s ain at the _cumadh an truais_” (shape of

the trews).

“Get a plaid of Mac-Ivor tartan and sash,” continued the Chieftain,

“and a blue bonnet of the Prince’s pattern, at Mr. Mouat’s in the

Crames. My short green coat, with silver lace and silver buttons, will

fit him exactly, and I have never worn it. Tell Ensign Maccombich to

pick out a handsome target from among mine. The Prince has given Mr.

Waverley broadsword and pistols, I will furnish him with a dirk and

purse; add but a pair of low-heeled shoes, and then, my dear Edward

(turning to him), you will be a complete son of Ivor.”

These necessary directions given, the Chieftain resumed the subject of

Waverley’s adventures. “It is plain,” he said, “that you have been in

the custody of Donald Bean Lean. You must know that, when I marched

away my clan to join the Prince, I laid my injunctions on that worthy

member of society to perform a certain piece of service, which done, he

was to join me with all the force he could muster. But, instead of

doing so, the gentleman, finding the coast clear, thought it better to

make war on his own account, and has scoured the country, plundering, I

believe, both friend and foe, under pretence of levying blackmail,

sometimes as if by my authority, and sometimes (and be cursed to his

consummate impudence) in his own great name! Upon my honour, if I live

to see the cairn of Benmore again, I shall be tempted to hang that

fellow! I recognise his hand particularly in the mode of your rescue

from that canting rascal Gilfillan, and I have little doubt that Donald

himself played the part of the pedlar on that occasion; but how he

should not have plundered you, or put you to ransom, or availed himself

in some way or other of your captivity for his own advantage, passes my

judgment.”

“When and how did you hear the intelligence of my confinement?” asked

Waverley.

“The Prince himself told me,” said Fergus, “and inquired very minutely

into your history. He then mentioned your being at that moment in the

power of one of our northern parties—you know I could not ask him to

explain particulars—and requested my opinion about disposing of you. I

recommended that you should be brought here as a prisoner, because I

did not wish to prejudice you farther with the English government, in

case you pursued your purpose of going southward. I knew nothing, you

must recollect, of the charge brought against you of aiding and

abetting high treason, which, I presume, had some share in changing

your original plan. That sullen, good-for-nothing brute, Balmawhapple,

was sent to escort you from Doune, with what he calls his troop of

horse. As to his behaviour, in addition to his natural antipathy to

everything that resembles a gentleman, I presume his adventure with

Bradwardine rankles in his recollection, the rather that I daresay his

mode of telling that story contributed to the evil reports which

reached your quondam regiment.”

“Very likely,” said Waverley; “but now surely, my dear Fergus, you may

find time to tell me something of Flora.”

“Why,” replied Fergus, “I can only tell you that she is well, and

residing for the present with a relation in this city. I thought it

better she should come here, as since our success a good many ladies of

rank attend our military court; and I assure you that there is a sort

of consequence annexed to the near relative of such a person as Flora

Mac-Ivor, and where there is such a justling of claims and requests, a

man must use every fair means to enhance his importance.”

There was something in this last sentence which grated on Waverley’s

feelings. He could not bear that Flora should be considered as

conducing to her brother’s preferment by the admiration which she must

unquestionably attract; and although it was in strict correspondence

with many points of Fergus’s character, it shocked him as selfish, and

unworthy of his sister’s high mind and his own independent pride.

Fergus, to whom such manœuvres were familiar, as to one brought up at

the French court, did not observe the unfavourable impression which he

had unwarily made upon his friend’s mind, and concluded by saying,

that they could hardly see Flora before the evening, when she would be

at the concert and ball with which the Prince’s party were to be

entertained. “She and I had a quarrel about her not appearing to take

leave of you. I am unwilling to renew it by soliciting her to receive

you this morning; and perhaps my doing so might not only be

ineffectual, but prevent your meeting this evening.”

While thus conversing, Waverley heard in the court, before the windows

of the parlour, a well-known voice. “I aver to you, my worthy friend,”

said the speaker, “that it is a total dereliction of military

discipline; and were you not as it were a _tyro_, your purpose would

deserve strong reprobation. For a prisoner of war is on no account to

be coerced with fetters, or debinded _in ergastulo_, as would have been

the case had you put this gentleman into the pit of the peel-house at

Balmawhapple. I grant, indeed, that such a prisoner may for security be

coerced _in carcere_, that is, in a public prison.”

The growling voice of Balmawhapple was heard as taking leave in

displeasure, but the word “land-louper” alone was distinctly audible.

He had disappeared before Waverley reached the house in order to greet

the worthy Baron of Bradwardine. The uniform in which he was now

attired, a blue coat, namely, with gold lace, a scarlet waistcoat and

breeches, and immense jack-boots, seemed to have added fresh stiffness

and rigidity to his tall, perpendicular figure; and the consciousness

of military command and authority had increased, in the same

proportion, the self-importance of his demeanour and the dogmatism of

his conversation.

He received Waverley with his usual kindness, and expressed immediate

anxiety to hear an explanation of the circumstances attending the loss

of his commission in Gardiner’s dragoons; “not,” he said, “that he had

the least apprehension of his young friend having done aught which

could merit such ungenerous treatment as he had received from

government, but because it was right and seemly that the Baron of

Bradwardine should be, in point of trust and in point of power, fully

able to refute all calumnies against the heir of Waverley-Honour, whom

he had so much right to regard as his own son.”

Fergus Mac-Ivor, who had now joined them, went hastily over the

circumstances of Waverley’s story, and concluded with the flattering

reception he had met from the young Chevalier. The Baron listened in

silence, and at the conclusion shook Waverley heartily by the hand and

congratulated him upon entering the service of his lawful Prince.

“For,” continued he, “although it has been justly held in all nations a

matter of scandal and dishonour to infringe the _sacramentum militare_,

and that whether it was taken by each soldier singly, whilk the Romans

denominated _per conjurationem_, or by one soldier in name of the rest,

yet no one ever doubted that the allegiance so sworn was discharged by

the _dimissio_, or discharging of a soldier, whose case would be as

hard as that of colliers, salters, and other _adscripti glebæ_, or

slaves of the soil, were it to be accounted otherwise. This is

something like the brocard expressed by the learned Sanchez in his work

_De Jure-jurando_ which you have questionless consulted upon this

occasion. As for those who have calumniated you by leasing-making, I

protest to Heaven I think they have justly incurred the penalty of the

_Memnonia Lex_, also called _Lex Rhemnia_, which is prelected upon by

Tullius in his oration _In Verrem_. I should have deemed, however, Mr.

Waverley, that before destining yourself to any special service in the

army of the Prince, ye might have inquired what rank the old

Bradwardine held there, and whether he would not have been peculiarly

happy to have had your services in the regiment of horse which he is

now about to levy.” Edward eluded this reproach by pleading the

necessity of giving an immediate answer to the Prince’s proposal, and

his uncertainty at the moment whether his friend the Baron was with the

army or engaged upon service elsewhere.

This punctilio being settled, Waverley made inquiry after Miss

Bradwardine, and was informed she had come to Edinburgh with Flora

Mac-Ivor, under guard of a party of the Chieftain’s men. This step was

indeed necessary, Tully-Veolan having become a very unpleasant, and

even dangerous, place of residence for an unprotected young lady, on

account of its vicinity to the Highlands, and also to one or two large

villages which, from aversion as much to the caterans as zeal for

presbytery, had declared themselves on the side of government, and

formed irregular bodies of partizans, who had frequent skirmishes with

the mountaineers, and sometimes attacked the houses of the Jacobite

gentry in the braes, or frontier betwixt the mountain and plain.

“I would propose to you,” continued the Baron, “to walk as far as my

quarters in the Luckenbooths, and to admire in your passage the High

Street, whilk is, beyond a shadow of dubitation, finer than any street

whether in London or Paris. But Rose, poor thing, is sorely discomposed

with the firing of the Castle, though I have proved to her from Blondel

and Coehorn, that it is impossible a bullet can reach these buildings;

and, besides, I have it in charge from his Royal Highness to go to the

camp, or leaguer of our army, to see that the men do _conclamare vasa_,

that is, truss up their bag and baggage for tomorrow’s march.”

“That will be easily done by most of us,” said Mac-Ivor, laughing.

“Craving your pardon, Colonel Mac-Ivor, not quite so easily as ye seem

to opine. I grant most of your folk left the Highlands expedited as it

were, and free from the incumbrance of baggage; but it is unspeakable

the quantity of useless sprechery which they have collected on their

march. I saw one fellow of yours (craving your pardon once more) with a

pier-glass upon his back.”

“Ay,” said Fergus, still in good-humour, “he would have told you, if

you had questioned him, “a ganging foot is aye getting.” But come, my

dear Baron, you know as well as I that a hundred Uhlans, or a single

troop of Schmirschitz’s Pandours, would make more havoc in a country

than the knight of the mirror and all the rest of our clans put

together.”

“And that is very true likewise,” replied the Baron; “they are, as the

heathen author says, ‘ferociores in aspectu, mitiores in actu,’ ‘of a

horrid and grim visage, but more benign in demeanour than their

physiognomy or aspect might infer.’ But I stand here talking to you two

youngsters when I should be in the King’s Park.”

“But you will dine with Waverley and me on your return? I assure you,

Baron, though I can live like a Highlander when needs must, I remember

my Paris education, and understand perfectly _faire la meilleure

chère_.”

“And wha the deil doubts it,” quoth the Baron, laughing, “when ye bring

only the cookery and the gude toun must furnish the materials? Weel, I

have some business in the toun too; but I’ll join you at three, if the

vivers can tarry so long.”

So saying, he took leave of his friends and went to look after the

charge which had been assigned him.