Bab Bab 48 · AN UNEXPECTED EMBARRASSMENT

. 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 judgment was

awarded consoled himself by observing, “She (that is, the watch, which

he took for a living animal) died the very night Vich Ian Vohr gave her

to Murdoch”; 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 _prælium 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 carcasses,” 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 sic a displeasure as that. Ye were right to apprise 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 battalliam_.” 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 farther.”

“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.”

“Ay, 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 _caligæ_, 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 Cæsar, the nephew and successor of Caius Tiberius, received

the agnomen of Caligula, ‘a caligulis, sive caligis levioribus, quibus

adolescentior usus fuerat in exercitu Germanici patris sui.’ And the

_caligæ_ were also proper to the monastic bodies; for we read in an

ancient glossarium upon the rule of Saint Benedict, in the Abbey of

Saint Amand, that _caligæ_ were tied with latchets.”

“That will apply to the brogues,” said Fergus.

“It will so, my dear Glennaquoich, and the words are express: ‘Caligæ

dictæ sunt quia ligantur; nam socci non ligantur, sed tantum

intromittuntur;’ that is, _caligæ_ 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 off_, 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 pepper-corns 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 _caligæ_ (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 _caligæ_ shall finally be pronounced by the learned. But I must go

to headquarters, 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-à-propos_. So, _au revoir_, my dear Waverley.”