Chương Chương 50 · RATHER UNIMPORTANT

. 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?”

“Fergus!” said Waverley, with a reproachful look.

“Nay, I cannot tell what to make of you,” answered the Chief of

Mac-Ivor, “you are blown about with every wind of doctrine. Here have

we gained a victory unparalleled in history, and your behaviour is

praised by every living mortal to the skies, and the Prince is eager to

thank you in person, and all our beauties of the White Rose are pulling

caps for you;—and you, the _preux chevalier_ of the day, are stooping

on your horse’s neck like a butter-woman riding to market, and looking

as black as a funeral!”

“I am sorry for poor Colonel Gardiner’s death; he was once very kind to

me.”

“Why, then, be sorry for five minutes, and then be glad again; his

chance to-day may be ours to-morrow; and what does it signify? The next

best thing to victory is honourable death; but it is a _pis-aller_, and

one would rather a foe had it than one’s self.”

“But Colonel Talbot has informed me that my father and uncle are both

imprisoned by government on my account.”

“We’ll put in bail, my boy; old Andrew Ferrara[35] shall lodge his

security; and I should like to see him put to justify it in Westminster

Hall!”

“Nay, they are already at liberty, upon bail of a more civic

disposition.”

“Then why is thy noble spirit cast down, Edward? Dost think that the

Elector’s ministers are such doves as to set their enemies at liberty

at this critical moment if they could or durst confine and punish them?

Assure thyself that either they have no charge against your relations

on which they can continue their imprisonment, or else they are afraid

of our friends, the jolly Cavaliers of old England. At any rate, you

need not be apprehensive upon their account; and we will find some

means of conveying to them assurances of your safety.”

Edward was silenced but not satisfied with these reasons. He had now

been more than once shocked at the small degree of sympathy which

Fergus exhibited for the feelings even of those whom he loved, if they

did not correspond with his own mood at the time, and more especially

if they thwarted him while earnest in a favourite pursuit. Fergus

sometimes indeed observed that he had offended Waverley, but, always

intent upon some favourite plan or project of his own, he was never

sufficiently aware of the extent or duration of his displeasure, so

that the reiteration of these petty offences somewhat cooled the

volunteer’s extreme attachment to his officer.

The Chevalier received Waverley with his usual favour, and paid him

many compliments on his distinguished bravery. He then took him apart,

made many inquiries concerning Colonel Talbot, and when he had received

all the information which Edward was able to give concerning him and

his connections, he proceeded—“I cannot but think, Mr. Waverley, that

since this gentleman is so particularly connected with our worthy and

excellent friend, Sir Everard Waverley, and since his lady is of the

house of Blandeville, whose devotion to the true and loyal principles

of the Church of England is so generally known, the Colonel’s own

private sentiments cannot be unfavorable to us, whatever mask he may

have assumed to accommodate himself to the times.”

“If I am to judge from the language he this day held to me, I am under

the necessity of differing widely from your Royal Highness.”

“Well, it is worth making a trial at least. I therefore entrust you

with the charge of Colonel Talbot, with power to act concerning him as

you think most advisable; and I hope you will find means of

ascertaining what are his real dispositions towards our Royal Father’s

restoration.”

“I am convinced,” said Waverley, bowing, “that if Colonel Talbot

chooses to grant his parole, it may be securely depended upon; but if

he refuses it, I trust your Royal Highness will devolve on some other

person than the nephew of his friend the task of laying him under the

necessary restraint.”

“I will trust him with no person but you,” said the Prince, smiling,

but peremptorily repeating his mandate; “it is of importance to my

service that there should appear to be a good intelligence between you,

even if you are unable to gain his confidence in earnest. You will

therefore receive him into your quarters, and in case he declines

giving his parole, you must apply for a proper guard. I beg you will go

about this directly. We return to Edinburgh tomorrow.”

Being thus remanded to the vicinity of Preston, Waverley lost the Baron

of Bradwardine’s solemn act of homage. So little, however, was he at

this time in love with vanity, that he had quite forgotten the ceremony

in which Fergus had laboured to engage his curiosity. But next day a

formal “Gazette” was circulated, containing a detailed account of the

battle of Gladsmuir, as the Highlanders chose to denominate their

victory. It concluded with an account of the court afterwards held by

the Chevalier at Pinkie House, which contained this among other

high-flown descriptive paragraphs:—

“Since that fatal treaty which annihilates Scotland as an independent

nation, it has not been our happiness to see her princes receive, and

her nobles discharge, those acts of feudal homage which, founded upon

the splendid actions of Scottish valour, recall the memory of her early

history, with the manly and chivalrous simplicity of the ties which

united to the Crown the homage of the warriors by whom it was

repeatedly upheld and defended. But on the evening of the 20th our

memories were refreshed with one of those ceremonies which belong to

the ancient days of Scotland’s glory. After the circle was formed,

Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine of that ilk, colonel in the service, etc.,

etc., etc., came before the Prince, attended by Mr. D. Macwheeble, the

Bailie of his ancient barony of Bradwardine (who, we understand, has

been lately named a commissary), and, under form of instrument, claimed

permission to perform to the person of his Royal Highness, as

representing his father, the service used and wont, for which, under a

charter of Robert Bruce (of which the original was produced and

inspected by the Masters of his Royal Highness’s Chancery for the time

being), the claimant held the barony of Bradwardine and lands of

Tully-Veolan. His claim being admitted and registered, his Royal

Highness having placed his foot upon a cushion, the Baron of

Bradwardine, kneeling upon his right knee, proceeded to undo the

latchet of the brogue, or low-heeled Highland shoe, which our gallant

young hero wears in compliment to his brave followers. When this was

performed, his Royal Highness declared the ceremony completed; and,

embracing the gallant veteran, protested that nothing but compliance

with an ordinance of Robert Bruce could have induced him to receive

even the symbolical performance of a menial office from hands which had

fought so bravely to put the crown upon the head of his father. The

Baron of Bradwardine then took instruments in the hands of Mr.

Commissary Macwheeble, bearing that all points and circumstances of the

act of homage had been _rite et solenniter acta et peracta;_ and a

corresponding entry was made in the protocol of the Lord High

Chamberlain and in the record of Chancery. We understand that it is in

contemplation of his Royal Highness, when his Majesty’s pleasure can be

known, to raise Colonel Bradwardine to the peerage, by the title of

Viscount Bradwardine of Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, and that, in the

meanwhile, his Royal Highness, in his father’s name and authority, has

been pleased to grant him an honourable augmentation to his paternal

coat of arms, being a budget or boot-jack, disposed saltier-wise with a

naked broadsword, to be borne in the dexter cantle of the shield; and,

as an additional motto, on a scroll beneath, the words, ‘Draw and draw

off.’”

“Were it not for the recollection of Fergus’s raillery,” thought

Waverley to himself, when he had perused this long and grave document,

how very tolerably would all this sound, and how little should I have

thought of connecting it with any ludicrous idea! Well, after all,

everything has its fair as well as its seamy side; and truly I do not

see why the Baron’s boot-jack may not stand as fair in heraldry as the

water-buckets, waggons, cart-wheels, plough-socks, shuttles,

candlesticks, and other ordinaries, conveying ideas of anything save

chivalry, which appear in the arms of some of our most ancient gentry.”

This, however, is an episode in respect to the principal story.

When Waverley returned to Preston and rejoined Colonel Talbot, he found

him recovered from the strong and obvious emotions with which a

concurrence of unpleasing events had affected him. He had regained his

natural manner, which was that of an English gentleman and soldier,

manly, open and generous, but not unsusceptible of prejudice against

those of a different country, or who opposed him in political tenets.

When Waverley acquainted Colonel Talbot with the Chevalier’s purpose to

commit him to his charge, “I did not think to have owed so much

obligation to that young gentleman,” he said, “as is implied in this

destination. I can at least cheerfully join in the prayer of the honest

Presbyterian clergyman, that, as he has come among us seeking an

earthly crown, his labours may be speedily rewarded with a heavenly

one.[*] I shall willingly give my parole not to attempt an escape

without your knowledge, since, in fact, it was to meet you that I came

to Scotland; and I am glad it has happened even under this predicament.

But I suppose we shall be but a short time together. Your Chevalier

(that is a name we may both give to him), with his plaids and blue

caps, will, I presume, be continuing his crusade southward?”

[* The clergyman’s name was Mac-Vicar. Protected by the cannon of the

Castle, he preached every Sunday in the West Kirk while the Highlanders

were in possession of Edinburgh, and it was in presence of some of the

Jacobites that he prayed for Prince Charles Edward in the terms quoted

in the text.]

“Not as I hear; I believe the army makes some stay in Edinburgh to

collect reinforcements.”

“And to besiege the Castle?” said Talbot, smiling sarcastically. “Well,

unless my old commander, General Preston, turn false metal, or the

Castle sink into the North Loch, events which I deem equally probable,

I think we shall have some time to make up our acquaintance. I have a

guess that this gallant Chevalier has a design that I should be your

proselyte; and, as I wish you to be mine, there cannot be a more fair

proposal than to afford us fair conference together. But, as I spoke

today under the influence of feelings I rarely give way to, I hope you

will excuse my entering again upon controversy till we are somewhat

better acquainted.”