Walter Scott

Part 10 out of 11

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.


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

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

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

'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

Edward, as may well be believed, pledged his word; which he
afterwards so amply redeemed, that his memory still lives in
these glens by the name of the Friend of the Sons of Ivor.

'Would to God,' continued the Chieftain, 'I could bequeath to you
my rights to the love and obedience of this primitive and brave
race:--or at least, as I have striven to do, persuade poor Evan
to accept of his life upon their terms, and be to you what he has
been to me, the kindest,--the bravest,--the most devoted--'

The tears which his own fate could not draw forth, fell fast for
that of his foster-brother.

'But,' said he, drying them, 'that cannot be. You cannot be to
them Vich Ian Vohr; and these three magic words,' said he, half
smiling, 'are the only Open Sesame to their feelings and
sympathies, and poor Evan must attend his foster-brother in
death, as he has done through his whole life.'

'And I am sure,' said Maccombich, raising himself from the floor,
on which, for fear of interrupting their conversation, he had
lain so still, that, in the obscurity of the apartment, Edward
was not aware of his presence,--'I am sure Evan never desired or
deserved a better end than just to die with his Chieftain.'

'And now,' said Fergus, 'while we are upon the subject of
clanship--what think you now of the prediction of the Bodach
Glas?'--Then, before Edward could answer, 'I saw him again last
night--he stood in the slip of moonshine, which fell from that
high and narrow window towards my bed. Why should I fear him, I
thought--to-morrow, long ere this time, I shall be as immaterial
as he. "False Spirit!" I said, "art thou come to close thy walks
on earth, and to enjoy thy triumph in the fall of the last
descendant of thine enemy?" The spectre seemed to beckon and to
smile as he faded from my sight. What do you think of it?--I
asked the same question of the priest, who is a good and sensible
man; he admitted that the Church allowed that such apparitions
were possible, but urged me not to permit my mind to dwell upon
it, as imagination plays us such strange tricks. What do you
think of it?'

'Much as your confessor,' said Waverley, willing to avoid dispute
upon such a point at such a moment. A tap at the door now
announced that good man, and Edward retired while he administered
to both prisoners the last rites of religion, in the mode which
the Church of Rome prescribes.

In about an hour he was re-admitted; soon after, a file of
soldiers entered with a blacksmith, who struck the fetters from
the legs of the prisoners.

'You see the compliment they pay to our Highland strength and
courage--we have lain chained here like wild beasts, till our
legs are cramped into palsy, and when they free us, they send six
soldiers with loaded muskets to prevent our taking the castle by

Edward afterwards learned that these severe precautions had been
taken in consequence of a desperate attempt of the prisoners to
escape, in which they had very nearly succeeded.

Shortly afterwards the drums of the garrison beat to arms. 'This
is the last turn-out,' said Fergus, 'that I shall hear and obey.
And now, my dear, dear Edward, ere we part let us speak of Flora
--a subject which awakes the tenderest feeling that yet thrills
within me.'

'We part not here!' said Waverley.

'Oh yes, we do; you must come no farther. Not that I fear what
is to follow for myself,' he said proudly: 'Nature has her
tortures as well as art; and how happy should we think the man
who escapes from the throes of a mortal and painful disorder, in
the space of a short half hour? And this matter, spin it out as
they will, cannot last longer, But what a dying man can suffer
firmly, may kill a living friend to look upon.--This same law of
high treason,' he continued, with astonishing firmness and
composure, 'is one of the blessings, Edward, with which your free
country has accommodated poor old Scotland: her own
jurisprudence, as I have heard, was much milder. But I suppose
one day or other--when there are no longer any wild Highlanders
to benefit by its tender mercies--they will blot it from their
records, as levelling them with a nation of cannibals. The
mummery, too, of exposing the senseless head--they have not the
wit to grace mine with a paper coronet; there would be some
satire in that, Edward. I hope they will set it on the Scotch
gate though, that I may look, even after death, to the blue hills
of my own country, which I love so dearly. The Baron would have


A bustle, and the sound of wheels and horses' feet, was now heard
in the courtyard of the Castle. 'As I have told you why you must
not follow me, and these sounds admonish me that my time flies
fast, tell me how you found poor Flora?'

Waverley, with a voice interrupted by suffocating sensations,
gave some account of the state of her mind.

'Poor Flora!' answered the Chief, 'she could have borne her own
sentence of death, but not mine. You, Waverley, will soon know
the happiness of mutual affection in the married state--long,
long may Rose and you enjoy it!--but you can never know the
purity of feeling which combines two orphans, like Flora and me,
left alone as it were in the world, and being all in all to each
other from our very infancy. But her strong sense of duty, and
predominant feeling of loyalty, will give new nerve to her mind
after the immediate and acute sensation of this parting has
passed away. She will then think of Fergus as of the heroes of
our race, upon whose deeds she loved to dwell.'

'Shall she not see you, then?' asked Waverley. 'She seemed to
expect it.'

'A necessary deceit will spare her the last dreadful parting. I
could not part with her without tears, and I cannot bear that
these men should think they have power to extort them. She was
made to believe she would see me at a later hour, and this
letter, which my confessor will deliver, will apprize her that
all is over,'

An officer now appeared, and intimated that the High Sheriff and
his attendants waited before the gate of the Castle, to claim the
bodies of Fergus Mac-Ivor and Evan Maccombich. 'I come,' said
Fergus. Accordingly, supporting Edward by the arm, and followed
by Evan Dhu and the priest, he moved down the stairs of the
tower, the soldiers bringing up the rear. The court was occupied
by a squadron of dragoons and a battalion of infantry, drawn up
in hollow square. Within their ranks was the sledge, or hurdle,
on which the prisoners were to be drawn to the place of
execution, about a mile distant from Carlisle. It was painted
black, and drawn by a white horse. At one end of the vehicle sat
the Executioner, a horrid-looking fellow, as beseemed his trade,
with the broad axe in his hand; at the other end, next the horse,
was an empty seat for two persons. Through the deep and dark
Gothic archway that opened on the drawbridge, were seen on
horseback the High Sheriff and his attendants, whom the etiquette
betwixt the civil and military powers did not permit to come
farther. 'This is well GOT UP for a closing scene,' said Fergus,
smiling disdainfully as he gazed around upon the apparatus of
terror. Evan Dhu exclaimed with some eagerness, after looking at
the dragoons, 'These are the very chields that galloped off at
Gladsmuir, before we could kill a dozen o' them. They look bold
enough now, however.' The priest entreated him to be silent.

The sledge now approached, and Fergus, turning round, embraced
Waverley, kissed him on each side of the face, and stepped nimbly
into his place. Evan sat down by his side. The priest was to
follow in a carriage belonging to his patron, the Catholic
gentleman at whose house Flora resided. As Fergus waved his hand
to Edward, the ranks closed around the sledge, and the whole
procession began to move forward. There was a momentary stop at
the gateway, while the governor of the Castle and the High
Sheriff went through a short ceremony, the military officer there
delivering over the persons of the criminals to the civil power.
'God save King George!' said the High Sheriff. When the
formality concluded, Fergus stood erect in the sledge, and with a
firm and steady voice, replied, 'God save King James!' These
were the last words which Waverley heard him speak.

The procession resumed its march, and the sledge vanished from
beneath the portal, under which it had stopped for an instant.
The dead-march was then heard, and its melancholy sounds were
mingled with those of a muffled peal, tolled from the
neighbouring cathedral. The sound of the military music died
away as the procession moved on--the sullen clang of the bells
was soon heard to sound alone.

The last of the soldiers had now disappeared from under the
vaulted archway through which they had been filing for several
minutes; the courtyard was now totally empty, but Waverley still
stood there as if stupefied, his eyes fixed upon the dark pass
where he had so lately seen the last glimpse of his friend. At
length, a female servant of the governor's, struck with
compassion at the stupefied misery which his countenance
expressed, asked him if he would not walk into her master's house
and sit down? She was obliged to repeat her question twice ere
he comprehended her, but at length it recalled him to himself.
Declining the courtesy by a hasty gesture, he pulled his hat over
his eyes, and, leaving the Castle, walked as swiftly as he could
through the empty streets, till he regained his inn, then rushed
into an apartment, and bolted the door.

In about an hour and a half, which seemed an age of unutterable
suspense, the sound of the drums and fifes, performing a lively
air, and the confused murmur of the crowd which now filled the
streets, so lately deserted, apprized him that all was finished,
and that the military and populace were returning from the
dreadful scene. I will not attempt to describe his sensations.

In the evening the priest made him a visit, and informed him that
he did so by directions of his deceased friend, to assure him
that Fergus Mac-Ivor had died as he lived, and remembered his
friendship to the last. He added, he had also seen Flora, whose
state of mind seemed more composed since all was over. With her
and Sister Theresa, the priest proposed next day to leave
Carlisle, for the nearest seaport from which they could embark
for France. Waverley forced on this good man a ring of some
value, and a sum of money to be employed (as he thought might
gratify Flora) in the services of the Catholic Church, for the
memory of his friend. 'FUNGARQUE INANI MUNERE,' he repeated, as
the ecclesiastic retired. 'Yet why not class these acts of
remembrance with other honours, with which affection, in all
sects, pursues the memory of the dead?'

The next morning, ere daylight, he took leave of the town of
Carlisle, promising to himself never again to enter its walls.
He dared hardly look back towards the Gothic battlements of the
fortified gate under which he passed (for the place is surrounded
with an old wall). 'They're no there,' said Alick Polwarth, who
guessed the cause of the dubious look which Waverley cast
backward, and who, with the vulgar appetite for the horrible, was
master of each detail of the butchery--'the heads are ower the
Scotch yate, as they ca' it. It's a great pity of Evan Dhu, who
was a very weel-meaning, good-natured man, to be a Hielandman;
and indeed so was the Laird o' Glennaquoich too, for that matter,
when he wasna in ane o' his tirrivies.



The impression of horror with which Waverley left Carlisle
softened by degrees into melancholy--a gradation which was
accelerated by the painful, yet soothing, task of writing to
Rose; and, while he could not suppress his own feelings of the
calamity, he endeavoured to place it in a light which might
grieve her without shocking her imagination. The picture which
he drew for her benefit he gradually familiarized to his own
mind; and his next letters were more cheerful, and referred to
the prospects of peace and happiness which lay before them. Yet,
though his first horrible sensations had sunk into melancholy,
Edward had reached his native county before he could, as usual on
former occasions, look round for enjoyment upon the face of

He then, for the first time since leaving Edinburgh, began to
experience that pleasure which almost all feel who return to a
verdant, populous, and highly cultivated country, from scenes of
waste desolation, or of solitary and melancholy grandeur. But
how were those feelings enhanced when he entered on the domain so
long possessed by his forefathers; recognized the old oaks of
Waverley-Chase; thought with what delight he should introduce
Rose to all his favourite haunts; beheld at length the towers of
the venerable hall arise above the woods which embowered it, and
finally threw himself into the arms of the venerable relations to
whom he owed so much duty and affection!

The happiness of their meeting was not tarnished by a single word
of reproach. On the contrary, whatever pain Sir Everard and Mrs.
Rachel had felt during Waverley's perilous engagement with the
young Chevalier, it assorted too well with the principles in
which they had been brought up, to incur reprobation, or even
censure. Colonel Talbot also had smoothed the way, with great
address, for Edward's favourable reception, by dwelling upon his
gallant behaviour in the military character, particularly his
bravery and generosity at Preston; until, warmed at the idea of
their nephew's engaging in single combat, making prisoner, and
saving from slaughter, so distinguished an officer as the Colonel
himself, the imagination of the Baronet and his sister ranked the
exploits of Edward with those of Wilibert, Hildebrand, and Nigel,
the vaunted heroes of their line.

The appearance of Waverley, embrowned by exercise, and dignified
by the habits of military discipline, had acquired an athletic
and hardy character, which not only verified the Colonel's
narration, but surprised and delighted all the inhabitants of
Waverley-Honour. They crowded to see, to hear him, and to sing
his praises. Mr. Pembroke, who secretly extolled his spirit and
courage in embracing the genuine cause of the Church of England,
censured his pupil gently, nevertheless, for being so careless of
his manuscripts, which indeed, he said, had occasioned him some
personal inconvenience, as, upon the Baronet's being arrested by
a king's messenger, he had deemed it prudent to retire to a
concealment called 'The Priest's Hole,' from the use it had been
put to in former days; where, he assured our hero, the butler had
thought it safe to venture with food only once in the day, so
that he had been repeatedly compelled to dine upon victuals
either absolutely cold, or, what was worse, only half warm, not
to mention that sometimes his bed had not been arranged for two
days together. Waverley's mind involuntarily turned to the
Patmos of the Baron of Bradwardine, who was well pleased with
Janet's fare, and a few bunches of straw stowed in a cleft in the
front of a sand-cliff: but he made no remarks upon a contrast
which could only mortify his worthy tutor.

All was now in a bustle to prepare for the nuptials of Edward, an
event to which the good old Baronet and Mrs. Rachel looked
forward as if to the renewal of their own youth. The match, as
Colonel Talbot had intimated, had seemed to them in the highest
degree eligible, having every recommendation but wealth, of which
they themselves had more than enough. Mr. Clippurse was
therefore summoned to Waverley-Honour, under better auspices than
at the commencement of our story. But Mr. Clippurse came not
alone; for, being now stricken in years, he had associated with
him a nephew, a younger vulture (as our English Juvenal, who
tells the tale of Swallow the attorney, might have called him),
and they now carried on business as Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem.
These worthy gentlemen had directions to make the necessary
settlements on the most splendid scale of liberality, as if
Edward were to wed a peeress in her own right, with her paternal
estate tacked to the fringe of her ermine.

But before entering upon a subject of proverbial delay, I must
remind my reader of the progress of a stone rolled down hill by
an idle truant boy (a pastime at which I was myself expert in my
more juvenile years): it moves at first slowly, avoiding by
inflection every obstacle of the least importance; but when it
has attained its full impulse, and draws near the conclusion of
its career, it smokes and thunders down, taking a rood at every
spring, clearing hedge and ditch like a Yorkshire huntsman, and
becoming most furiously rapid in its course when it is nearest to
being consigned to rest for ever. Even such is the course of a
narrative like that which you are perusing. The earlier events
are studiously dwelt upon, that you, kind reader, may be
introduced to the character rather by narrative, than by the
duller medium of direct description; but when the story draws
near its close, we hurry over the circumstances, however
important, which your imagination must have forestalled, and
leave you to suppose those things which it would be abusing your
patience to relate at length.

We are, therefore, so far from attempting to trace the dull
progress of Messrs. Clippurse and Hookem, or that of their worthy
official brethren, who had the charge of suing out the pardons of
Edward Waverley and his intended father-in-law, that we can but
touch upon matters more attractive. The mutual epistles, for
example, which were exchanged between Sir Everard and the Baron
upon this occasion, though matchless specimens of eloquence in
their way, must be consigned to merciless oblivion. Nor can I
tell you at length, how worthy Aunt Rachel, not without a
delicate and affectionate allusion to the circumstances which had
transferred Rose's maternal diamonds to the hands of Donald Bean
Lean, stocked her casket with a set of jewels that a duchess
might have envied. Moreover, the reader will have the goodness
to imagine that Job Houghton and his dame were suitably provided
for, although they could never be persuaded that their son fell
otherwise than fighting by the young squire's side; so that
Alick, who, as a lover of truth, had made many needless attempts
to expound the real circumstances to them, was finally ordered to
say not a word more upon the subject. He indemnified himself,
however, by the liberal allowance of desperate battles, grisly
executions, and rawhead and bloody-bone stories, with which he
astonished the servants' hall.

But although these important matters may be briefly told in
narrative, like a newspaper report of a Chancery suit, yet, with
all the urgency which Waverley could use, the real time which the
law proceedings occupied, joined to the delay occasioned by the
mode of travelling at that period, rendered it considerably more
than two months ere Waverley, having left England, alighted once
more at the mansion of the Laird of Duchran to claim the hand of
his plighted bride.

The day of his marriage was fixed for the sixth after his
arrival. The Baron of Bradwardine, with whom bridals,
christenings, and funerals, were festivals of high and solemn
import, felt a little hurt, that, including the family of the
Duchran, and all the immediate vicinity who had title to be
present on such an occasion, there could not be above thirty
persons collected. 'When he was married,' he observed, 'three
hundred horse of gentlemen born, besides servants, and some score
or two of Highland lairds, who never got on horseback, were
present on the occasion.'

But his pride found some consolation in reflecting, that he and
his son-in-law having been so lately in arms against Government,
it, might give matter of reasonable fear and offence to the
ruling powers, if they were to collect together the kith, kin,
and allies of their houses, arrayed in effeir of war, as was the
ancient custom of Scotland on these occasions--'And, without
dubitation,' he concluded with a sigh, 'many of those who would
have rejoiced most freely upon these joyful espousals, are either
gone to a better place, or are now exiles from their native

The marriage took place on the appointed day. The Reverend Mr.
Rubrick, kinsman to the proprietor of the hospitable mansion
where it was solemnized, and chaplain to the Baron of
Bradwardine, had the satisfaction to unite their hands; and Frank
Stanley acted as bridesman, having joined Edward with that view
soon after his arrival. Lady Emily and Colonel Talbot had
proposed being present; but Lady Emily's health, when the day
approached, was found inadequate to the journey. In amends, it
was arranged that Edward Waverley and his lady, who, with the
Baron, proposed an immediate journey to Waverley-Honour, should,
in their way, spend a few days at an estate which Colonel Talbot
had been tempted to purchase in Scotland as a very great bargain,
and at which he proposed to reside for some time.


This is no mine ain house, I ken by the bigging o't'.

The nuptial party travelled in great style. There was a coach
and six after the newest pattern, which Sir Everard had presented
to his nephew, that dazzled with its splendour the eyes of one
half of Scotland; there was the family coach of Mr. Rubrick;--
both these were crowded with ladies, and there were gentlemen on
horseback, with their servants, to the number of a round score.
Nevertheless, without having the fear of famine before his eyes,
Bailie Macwheeble met them in the road, to entreat that they
would pass by his house at Little Veolan. The Baron stared, and
said his son and he would certainly ride by Little Veolan, and
pay their compliments to the Bailie, but could not think of
bringing with them the 'haill COMITATUS NUPTIALIS, or matrimonial
procession.' He added, 'that, as he understood that the barony
had been sold by its unworthy possessor, he was glad to see his
old friend Duncan had regained his situation under the new
DOMINUS, or proprietor. ' The Bailie ducked, bowed, and fidgeted,
and then again insisted upon his invitation; until the Baron,
though rather piqued at the pertinacity of his instances, could
not nevertheless refuse to consent, without making evident
sensations which he was anxious to conceal.

He fell into a deep study as they approached the top of the
avenue, and was only startled from it by observing that the
battlements were replaced, the ruins cleared sway, and (most
wonderful of all) that the two great stone Bears, those mutilated
Dagons of his idolatry, had resumed their posts over the gateway.
'Now this new proprietor,' said he to Edward, 'has shown mair
gusto, as the Italians call it, in the short time he has had this
domain, than that hound Malcolm, though I bred him here mysell,
has acquired VITA ADHUC DURANTE.--and now I talk of hounds, is
not yon Ban and Buscar, who come scouping up the avenue with
Davie Gallatley?'

'I vote we should go to meet them, sir,' said Waverley, 'for I
believe the present master of the house is Colonel Talbot, who
will expect to see us. We hesitated to mention to you at first
that he had purchased your ancient patrimonial property, and even
yet, if you do not incline to visit him, we can pass on to the

The Baron had occasion for all his magnanimity. However, he drew
a long breath, took a long snuff, and observed, since they had
brought him so far, he could not pass the Colonel's gate, and he
would be happy to see the new master of his old tenants. He
alighted accordingly, as did the other gentlemen and ladies;--he
gave his arm to his daughter, and as they descended the avenue,
pointed out to her how speedily the 'DIVA PECUNIA of the
Southron--their tutelary deity, he might call her--had removed
the marks of spoliation.'

In truth, not only had the felled trees been removed, but, their
stumps being grubbed up, and the earth round them levelled and
sown with grass, every mark of devastation, unless to an eye
intimately acquainted with the spot, was already totally
obliterated. There was a similar reformation in the outward man
of Davie Gellatley, who met them, every now and then stopping to
admire the new suit which graced his person, In the same colours
as formerly, but bedizened fine enough to have served Touchstone
himself. He danced up with his usual ungainly frolics, first to
the Baron, and then to Rose, passing his hands over his clothes,
crying, 'BRA', BRA' DAVIE,' and scarce able to sing a bar to an
end of his thousand-and-one songs, for the breathless
extravagance of his joy. The dogs also acknowledged their old
master with a thousand gambols. 'Upon my conscience, Rose,'
ejaculated the Baron, 'the gratitude o' thae dumb brutes, and of
that puir innocent, brings the tears into my auld een, while that
schellum Malcolm--but I'm obliged to Colonel Talbot for putting
my hounds into such good condition, and likewise for puir Davie.
But, Rose, my dear, we must not permit them to be a liferent
burden upon the estate.'

As he spoke, Lady Emily, leaning upon the arm of her husband, met
the party at the lower gate, with a thousand welcomes. After the
ceremony of introduction had been gone through, much abridged by
the ease and excellent breeding of Lady Emily, she apologized for
having used a little art to wile them back to a place which might
awaken some painful reflections--'But as it was to change
masters, we were very desirous that the Baron'--

'Mr. Bradwardine, madam, if you please,' said the old gentleman.

'--Mr. Bradwardine, then, and Mr. Waverley, should see what we
have done towards restoring the mansion of your fathers to its
former state.'

The Baron answered with a low bow. Indeed, when he entered the
court, excepting that the heavy stables, which had been burnt
down, were replaced by buildings of a lighter and more
picturesque appearance, all seemed as much as possible restored
to the state in which he had left it when he assumed arms some
months before. The pigeon-house was replenished; the fountain
played with its usual activity; and not only the Bear who
predominated over its basin, but all the other Bears whatsoever,
were replaced on their several stations, and renewed or repaired
with so much care, that they bore no tokens of the violence which
had so lately descended upon them. While these minutiae had been
so heedfully attended to, it is scarce necessary to add, that the
house itself had been thoroughly repaired, as well as the
gardens, with the strictest attention to maintain the original
character of both, and to remove, as far as possible, all
appearance of the ravage they had sustained. The Baron gazed in
silent wonder; at length he addressed Colonel Talbot:

'While I acknowledge my obligation to you, sir, for the
restoration of the badge of our family, I cannot but marvel that
you have nowhere established your own crest, whilk is, I believe,
a mastiff, anciently called a talbot; as the poet has it,

A talbot strong--a sturdy tyke.

At least such a dog is the crest of the martial and renowned
Earls of Shrewsbury, to whom your family are probably blood

'I believe,' said the Colonel, smiling, 'our dogs are whelps of
the same litter: for my part, if crests were to dispute
precedence, I should be apt to let them, as the proverb says,
"fight dog, fight bear."'

As he made this speech, at which the Baron took another long
pinch of snuff, they had entered the house--that is, the Baron,
Rose, and Lady Emily, with young Stanley and the Bailie, for
Edward and the rest of the party remained on the terrace, to
examine a new greenhouse stocked with the finest plants. The
Baron resumed his favourite topic: 'However it may please you to
derogate from the honour of your burgonet, Colonel Talbot, which
is doubtless your humour, as I have seen in other gentlemen of
birth and honour in your country, I must again repeat it as a
most ancient and distinguished bearing, as well as that of my
young friend Francis Stanley, which is the eagle and child.'

'The bird and bantling they call it in Derbyshire, sir,' said

'Ye're a daft callant, sir,' said the Baron, who had a great
liking to this young man, perhaps because he sometimes teased
him--'Ye're a daft callant, and I must correct you some of these
days,' shaking his great brown fist at him. 'But what I meant to
say, Colonel Talbot, is, that yours is an ancient PROSAPIA, or
descent, and since you have lawfully and justly acquired the
estate for you and yours, which I have lost for me and mine, I
wish it may remain in your name as many centuries as it has done
in that of the late proprietor's.'

'That,' answered the Colonel, 'is very handsome, Mr. Bradwardine,

'And yet, sir, I cannot but marvel that you, Colonel, whom I
noted to have so much of the AMOR PATRIAE, when we met in
Edinburgh, as even to vilipend other countries, should have
chosen to establish your Lares, or household gods, PROCUL A
PATRIEA FINIBUS, and in a manner to expatriate yourself.'

'Why really, Baron, I do not see why, to keep the secret of these
foolish boys, Waverley and Stanley, and of my wife, who is no
wiser, one old soldier should continue to impose upon another.
You must know, then, that I have so much of that same prejudice
in favour of my native country, that the sum of money which I
advanced to the seller of this extensive barony has only
purchased for me a box in --shire, called Brerewood Lodge, with
about two hundred and fifty acres of land, the chief merit of
which is, that it is within a very few miles of Waverley-Honour.'

'And who, then, in the name of Haven, has bought this property?'

'That,' said the Colonel,' it is this gentleman's profession to

The Bailie, whom this reference regarded, and who had all this
while shifted from one foot to another with great impatience,
'like a hen,' as he afterwards said, 'upon a het girdle'; and
chuckling, he might have added, like the said hen in all the
glory of laying an egg--now pushed forward: 'That I can, that I
can, your Honour,' drawing from his pocket a budget of papers,
and untying the red tape with a hand trembling with eagerness.
'Here is the disposition and assignation, by Malcolm Bradwardine
of Inch-Grabbit, regularly signed and tested in terms of the
statute, whereby, for a certain sum of sterling money presently
contented and paid to him, he has disponed, alienated, and
conveyed the whole estate and barony of Bradwardine, Tully-
Veolan, and others, with the fortalice and manor-place--'

'For God's sake, to the point, sir--I have all that by heart,'
said the Colonel.

'To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esq.' pursued the Bailie, 'his
heirs and assignees, simply and irredeemably--to be held either A

'Pray read short, sir.'

'On the conscience of an honest man, Colonel, I read as short as
is consistent with style.--Under the burden and reservation

'Mr. Macwheeble, this would outlast a Russian winter--give me
leave. In short, Mr. Bradwardine, your family estate is your own
once more in full property, and at your absolute disposal, but
only burdened with the sum advanced to repurchase it, which I
understand is utterly disproportioned to its value.

'An auld sang--an auld sang, if it please your Honours,' cried
the Bailie, rubbing his hands; 'look at the rental book.'

'Which sum being advanced by Mr. Edward Waverley, chiefly from
the price of his father's property which I bought from him, is
secured to his lady your daughter, and her family by this

'It is a catholic security,' shouted the Bailie, 'to Rose Comyne
Bradwardine, ALIAS Wauverley, in liferent, and the children of
the said marriage in fee; and I made up a wee bit minute of an
ante-nuptial contract, INTUITU MATRIMONII, so it cannot be
subject to reduction hereafter, as a donation INTER VIRUM ET

It is difficult to say whether the worthy Baron was most
delighted with the restitution of his family property, or with
the delicacy and generosity that left him unfettered to pursue
his purpose in disposing of it after his death, and which
avoided, as much as possible, even the appearance of laying him
under pecuniary obligation. When his first pause of joy and
astonishment was over, his thoughts turned to the unworthy heir-
male, who, he pronounced, 'had sold his birthright, like Esau,
for a mess o' pottage.'

'But wha cookit the parritch for him?' exclaimed the Bailie; 'I
wad like to ken that--wha but your Honour's to command, Duncan
Macwheeble? His Honour, young Mr. Wauverley, put it a' into my
hand frae the beginning--frae the first calling o' the summons,
as I may say. I circumvented them--I played at bogle about the
bush wi' them--I cajoled them; and if I havena gien Inch-Grabbit
and Jamie Howie a bonnie begunk, they ken themselves. Him a
writer! I didna gea slapdash to them wi' our young bra'
bridegroom, to gar them haud up the market; na, na; I scared them
wi' our wild tenantry, and the Mac-Ivors, that are but ill
settled yet, till they durstna on ony errand whatsoever gang ower
the doorstane after gloaming, for fear John Heatherblutter, or
some siccan dare-the-deil, should tak a baff at them: then, on
the other hand, I beflumm'd them wi' Colonel Talbot--wad they
offer to keep up the price again' the Duke's friend? did they na
ken wha was master? had they na seen eneugh, by the sad example
of mony a puir misguided unhappy body--'

'Who went to Derby, for example, Mr. Macwheeble?' said the
Colonel to him, aside.

'Oh' whisht, Colonel, for the love o' God! let that flee stick
i' the wa'. There were mony good folk at Derby; and it's ill
speaking of halters,'--with a sly cast of his eye toward the
Baron, who was in a deep reverie.

Starting out of it at once, he took Macwheeble by the button, and
led him into one of the deep window recesses, whence only
fragments of their conversation reached the rest of the party.
It certainly related to stamp-paper and parchment; for no other
subject, even from the mouth of his patron, and he, once more an
efficient one, could have arrested so deeply the Bailie's
reverent and absorbed attention.

'I understand your Honour perfectly; it can be dune as easy as
taking out a decreet in absence.'

'To her and him, after my demise, and to their heirs-male,--but
preferring the second son, if God shall bless them with two, who
is to carry the name and arms of Bradwardine of that Ilk, without
any other name or armorial bearings whatsoever.'

'Tut, your Honour!' whispered the Bailie, 'I'll mak a slight
jotting the morn; it will cost but a charter of resignation IN
FAVOREM; and I'll hae it ready for the next term in Exchequer.

Their private conversation ended, the Baron was now summoned to
do the honours of Tully-Veolan to new guests. These were, Major
Melville of Cairnvreckan, and the Reverend Mr. Morton, followed
by two or three others of the Baron's acquaintances, who had been
made privy to his having again acquired the estate of his
fathers. The shouts of the villagers were also heard beneath in
the courtyard; for Saunders Saunderson, who had kept the secret
for several days with laudable prudence, had unloosed his tongue
upon beholding the arrival of the carriages.

But, while Edward received Major Melville with politeness, and
the clergyman with the most affectionate and grateful kindness,
his father-in-law looked a little awkward, as uncertain how he
should answer the necessary claims of hospitality to his guests,
and forward the festivity of his tenants. Lady Emily relieved
him, by intimating, that, though she must be an indifferent
representative of Mrs. Edward Waverley in many respects, she
hoped the Baron would approve of the entertainment she had
ordered, in expectation of so many guests; and that they would
find such other accommodations provided, as might in some degree
support the ancient hospitality of Tully-Veolan. It is
impossible to describe the pleasure which this assurance gave the
Baron, who, with an air of gallantry half appertaining to the
stiff Scottish laird, and half to the officer in the French
service, offered his arm to the fair speaker, and led the way, in
something between a stride and a minuet step, into the large
dining parlour, followed by all the rest of the good company.

By dint of Saunderson's directions and exertions, all here, as
well as in the other apartments, had been disposed as much as
possible according to the old arrangement; and where new movables
had been necessary, they had been selected in the same character
with the old furniture, There was one addition to this fine old
apartment, however, which drew tears into the Baron's eyes. It
was a large and spirited painting, representing Fergus Mac-Ivor
and Waverley in their Highland dress; the scene a wild, rocky,
and mountainous pass, down which the clan were descending in the
background. It was taken from a spirited sketch, drawn while
they were in Edinburgh by a young man of high genius, and had
been painted on a full-length scale by an eminent London artist.
Raeburn himself (whose Highland chiefs do all but walk out of the
canvas) could not have done more justice to the subject; and the
ardent, fiery, and impetuous character of the unfortunate Chief
of Glennaquoich was finely contrasted with the contemplative,
fanciful, and enthusiastic expression of his happier friend.
Beside this painting hung the arms which Waverley had borne in
the unfortunate civil war; The whole piece was beheld with
admiration, and deeper feelings.

Men must, however, eat, in spite both of sentiment and vertu; and
the Baron, while he assumed the lower end of the table, insisted
that Lady Emily should do the honours of the head, that they
might, he said, set a meet example to the YOUNG FOLK. After a
pause of deliberation, employed in adjusting in his own brain the
precedence between the Presbyterian kirk and Episcopal church of
Scotland, he requested Mr. Morton, as the stranger, would crave a
blessing,--observing, that Mr. Rubrick, who was at home, would
return thanks for the distinguished mercies it had been his lot
to experience. The dinner was excellent. Saunderson attended in
full costume, with all the former domestics, who had been
collected, excepting one or two, that had not been heard of since
the affair of Culloden. The cellars were stocked with wine which
was pronounced to be superb, and it had been contrived that the
Bear of the Fountain, in the courtyard, should (for that night
only) play excellent brandy punch for the benefit of the lower

When the dinner was over, the Baron, about to propose a toast,
cast a somewhat sorrowful look upon the sideboard,--which,
however, exhibited much of his plate, that had either been
secreted or purchased by neighbouring gentlemen from the
soldiery, and by them gladly restored to the original owner.

'In the late times,' he said, 'those must be thankful who have
saved life and land; yet, when I am about to pronounce this
toast, I cannot but regret an old heirloom, Lady Emily--A POCULUM
POTATORIUM, Colonel Talbot'--

Here the Baron's elbow was gently touched by his major-demo, and,
turning round, he beheld, in the hands of Alexander ab Alexandro,
the celebrated cup of Saint Duthac, the Blessed Bear of
Bradwardine! I question if the recovery of his estate afforded
him more rapture. 'By my honour,' he said, 'one might almost
believe in brownies and fairies, Lady Emily, when your ladyship
is in presence!'

'I am truly happy,' said Colonel Talbot, 'that by the recovery of
this piece of family antiquity, it has fallen within my power to
give you some token of my deep interest in all that concerns my
young friend Edward. But that you may not suspect Lady Emily for
a sorceress, or me for a conjurer, which is no joke in Scotland,
I must tell you that Frank Stanley, your friend, who has been
seized with a tartan fever ever since he heard Edward's tales of
old Scottish manners, happened to describe to us at second hand
this remarkable cup. My servant, Spontoon, who, like a true old
soldier, observes everything and says little, gave me afterwards
to understand that he thought he had seen the piece of plate Mr.
Stanley mentioned, in the possession of a certain Mrs. Nosebag,
who, having been originally the helpmate of a pawnbroker, had
found opportunity, during the late unpleasant scenes in Scotland,
to trade a little in her old line, and so became the depositary
of the more valuable part of the spoil of half the army. You may
believe the cup was speedily recovered; and it will give me very
great pleasure if you allow me to suppose that its value is not
diminished by having been restored through my means.'

A tear mingled with the wine which the Baron filled, as he
proposed a cup of gratitude to Colonel Talbot, and 'The
Prosperity of the united Houses of Waverley-Honour and

It only remains for me to say, that as no wish was ever uttered
with more affectionate sincerity, there are few which, allowing
for the necessary mutability of human events, have been, upon the
whole, more happily fulfilled.



Our journey is now finished, gentle reader; and if your patience
has accompanied me through these sheets, the contract is, on your
part, strictly fulfilled. Yet, like the driver who has received
his full hire, I still linger near you, and make, with becoming
diffidence, a trifling additional claim upon your bounty and good
nature. You are as free, however, to shut the volume of the one
petitioner, as to close your door in the face of the other.

This should have been a prefatory chapter, but for two reasons:--
First, that most novel readers, as my own conscience reminds me,
are apt to be guilty of the sin of omission respecting that same
matter of prefaces;--secondly, that it is a general custom with
that class of students, to begin with the last chapter of a work;
so that, after all, these remarks, being introduced last in
order, have still the best chance to be read in their proper

There is no European nation, which, within the course of half a
century, or little more, has undergone so complete a change as
this kingdom of Scotland. The effects of the insurrection of
1745,--the destruction of the patriarchal power of the Highland
chiefs,--the abolition of the heritable jurisdictions of the
Lowland nobility and barons,--the total eradication of the
Jacobite party, which, averse to intermingle with the English, or
adopt their customs, long continued to pride themselves upon
maintaining ancient Scottish manners and customs,--commenced this
innovation. The gradual influx of wealth, and extension of
commerce, have since united to render the present people of
Scotland a class of beings as different from their grandfathers
as the existing English are from those of Queen Elizabeth's time,
The political and economical effects of these changes have been
traced by Lord Selkirk with great precision and accuracy. But
the change, though steadily and rapidly progressive, has,
nevertheless, been gradual; and, like those who drift down the
stream of a deep and smooth river, we are not aware of the
progress we have made until we fix our eye on the now distant
point from which we have been drifted.--Such of the present
generation as can recollect the last twenty or twenty-five years
of the eighteenth century, will be fully sensible of the truth of
this statement;--especially if their acquaintance and connexions
lay among those, who, in my younger time, were facetiously called
'folks of the old leaven,' who still cherished a lingering,
though hopeless, attachment, to the house of Stuart. This race
has now almost entirely vanished from the land, and with it,
doubtless, much absurd political prejudice--but also, many living
examples of singular and disinterested attachment to the
principles of loyalty which they received from their fathers, and
of old Scottish faith, hospitality, worth, and honour.

It was my accidental lot, though not born a Highlander (which may
be an apology for much bad Gaelic), to reside, during my
childhood and youth, among persons of the above description;--and
now, for the purpose of preserving some idea of the ancient
manners of which I have witnessed the almost total extinction, I
have embodied in imaginary scenes, and ascribed to fictitious
characters, a part of the incidents which I then received from
those who were actors in them. Indeed, the most romantic parts
of this narrative are precisely those which have a foundation in
fact. The exchange of mutual protection between a Highland
gentleman and an officer of rank in the king's service, together
with the spirited manner in which the latter asserted his right
to return the favour he had received, is literally true. The
accident by a musket-shot, and the heroic reply imputed to Flora,
relate to a lady of rank not long deceased. And scarce a
gentleman who was 'in hiding' after the battle of Culloden but
could tell a tale of strange concealments, and of wild and
hair's-breadth 'scapes, as extraordinary as any which I have
ascribed to my heroes. Of this, the escape of Charles Edward
himself, as the most prominent, is the most striking example.
The accounts of the battle of Preston and skirmish at Clifton are
taken from the narrative of intelligent eye-witnesses, and
corrected from the History of the Rebellion by the late venerable
author of DOUGLAS. The Lowland Scottish gentlemen, and the
subordinate characters, are not given as individual portraits,
but are drawn from the general habits of the period (of which I
have witnessed some remnants in my younger days), and partly
gathered from tradition.

It has been my object to describe these persons, not by a
caricatured and exaggerated use of the national dialect, but by
their habits, manners, and feelings; so as in some distant degree
to emulate the admirable Irish portraits drawn by Miss Edgeworth,
so different from the 'Teagues' and 'dear joys,' who so long,
with the most perfect family resemblance to each other, occupied
the drama and the novel.

I feel no confidence, however, in the manner in which I have
executed my purpose. Indeed, so little was I satisfied with my
production, that I laid it aside in an unfinished state, and only
found it again by mere accident among other waste papers in an
old cabinet, the drawers of which I was rummaging, in order to
accommodate a friend with some fishing tackle, after it had been
mislaid for several years. Two works upon similar subjects, by
female authors, whose genius is highly creditable to their
country, have appeared in the interval; I mean Mrs. Hamilton's
GLENBURNIE, and the late account of Highland Superstitions. But
the first is confined to the rural habits of Scotland, of which
it has given a picture with striking and impressive fidelity; and
the traditional records of the respectable and ingenious Mrs.
Grant of Laggan, are of a nature distinct from the fictitious
narrative which I have here attempted.

I would willingly persuade myself, that the preceding work will
not be found altogether uninteresting. To elder persons it will
recall scenes and characters familiar to their youth; and to the
rising generation the tale may present some idea of the manners
of their forefathers.

Yet I heartily wish that the task of tracing the evanescent
manners of his own country had employed the pen of the only man
in Scotland who could have done it justice,--of him so eminently
distinguished in elegant literature,--and whose sketches of
Colonel Caustic and Umphraville are perfectly blended with the
finer traits of national character. I should in that case have
had more pleasure as a reader than I shall ever feel in the pride
of a successful author, should these sheets confer upon me that
envied distinction. And as I have inverted the usual
arrangement, placing these remarks at the end of the work to
which they refer, I will venture on a second violation of form,
by closing the whole with a Dedication:--







There is a family legend to this purpose, belonging to the
knightly family of Bradshaigh, the proprietors of Haighhall, in
Lancashire, where, I have been told, the event is recorded on a
painted glass window. The German ballad of the 'Noble Moringer'
turns upon a similar topic. But undoubtedly many such incidents
may have taken place, where, the distance being great, and the
intercourse infrequent, false reports concerning the fate of the
absent Crusaders must have been commonly circulated, and
sometimes perhaps rather hastily credited at home.


The attachment to this classic was, it is said, actually
displayed, in the manner mentioned in the text, by an unfortunate
Jacobite in that unhappy period. He escaped from the jail in
which he was confined for a hasty trial and certain condemnation,
and was retaken as he hovered around the place in which he had
been imprisoned, for which he could give no better reason than
the hope of recovering his favourite Titus Livius. I am sorry to
add, that the simplicity of such a character was found to form no
apology for his guilt as a rebel, and that he was condemned and


Nicholas Amhurst, a noted political writer, who conducted for
many years a paper called the Craftsman, under the assumed name
of Caleb d'Anvers. He was devoted to the Tory interest, and
seconded with much ability the attacks of Pulteney on Sir Robert
Walpole. He died in 1742, neglected by his great patrons, and in
the most miserable circumstances.

Amhurst survived the downfall of Walpole's power, and had reason
to expect a reward for his labours. If we excuse Bolingbroke,
who had only saved the shipwreck of his fortunes, we shall be at
a loss to justify Pulteney, who could with ease have given this
man a considerable income. The utmost of his generosity to
Amhurst, that I ever heard of, was a hogshead of claret! He
died, it is supposed, of a broken heart; and was buried at the
charge of his honest printer, Richard Franklin.'--LORD


I have now given in the text the full name of this gallant and
excellent man, and proceed to copy the account of his remarkable
conversion, as related by Dr. Doddridge.

'This memorable event,' says the pious writer, 'happened towards
the middle of July, 1719. The major had spent the evening (and,
if I mistake not, it was the Sabbath) in some gay company, and
had an unhappy assignation with a married woman, whom he was to
attend exactly at twelve. The company broke up about eleven; and
not judging it convenient to anticipate the time appointed, he
went into his chamber to kill the tedious hour, perhaps with some
amusing book, or some other way. But it very accidentally
happened that he took up a religious book, which his good mother
or aunt had, without his knowledge, slipped into his portmanteau.
It was called, if I remember the title exactly, THE CHRISTIAN
SOLDIER, or HEAVEN TAKEN BY STORM; and it was written by Mr.
Thomas Watson. Guessing by the title of it that he would find
some phrases of his own profession spiritualized in a manner
which he thought might afford him some diversion, he resolved to
dip into it; but he took no serious notice of anything it had in
it; and yet, while this book was in his hand an impression was
made upon his mind (perhaps God only knows how) which drew after
it a train of the most important and happy consequences. He
thought he saw an unusual blaze of light fall upon the book which
he was reading, which he at first imagined might happen by some
accident in the candle: but lifting up his eyes, he apprehended,
to his extreme amazement, that there was before him, as it were
suspended in the air, a visible representation of the Lord Jesus
Christ upon the cross, surrounded on all sides with a glory; and
was impressed, as if a voice, or something equivalent to a voice,
had come to him, to this effect (for he was not confident as to
the words)--"Oh, sinner! did I suffer this for thee? and are
these thy returns?" Struck with so amazing a phenomenon as this,
there remained hardly any life in him, so that he sunk down in
the arm-chair in which he sat, and continued, he knew not how
long, insensible.'

'With regard to this vision,' says the ingenious Dr. Hibbert,
'the appearance of our Saviour on the cross, and the awful words
repeated, can be considered in no other light than as so many
recollected images of the mind, which, probably, had their origin
in the language of some urgent appeal to repentance, that the
colonel might have casually read or heard delivered. From what
cause, however, such ideas were rendered as vivid as actual
impressions, we have no information to be depended upon. This
vision was certainly attended with one of the most important of
consequences connected with the Christian dispensation--the
conversion of a sinner; and hence no single narrative has,
perhaps, done more to confirm the superstitious opinion that
apparitions of this awful kind cannot arise without a divine
fiat.' Dr. Hibbert adds, in a note--'A short time before the
vision, Colonel Gardiner had received a severe fall from his
horse. Did the brain receive some slight degree of injury from
the accident, so as to predispose him to this spiritual
illusion?'--HIBBERT'S PHILOSOPHY OF APPARITIONS, Edinburgh, 1824,
p. 190.


The courtesy of an invitation to partake a traveller's meal, or
at least that of being invited to share whatever liquor the guest
called for, was expected by certain old landlords in Scotland,
even in the youth of the author. In requital, mine host was
always furnished with the news of the country, and was probably a
little of a humorist to boot. The devolution of the whole actual
business and drudgery of the inn upon the poor gudewife, was very
common among the Scottish Bonifaces. There was in ancient times,
in the city of Edinburgh, a gentleman of good family, who
condescended, in order to gain a livelihood, to become the
nominal keeper of a coffee house, one of the first places of the
kind which had been opened in the Scottish metropolis. As usual,
it was entirely managed by the careful and industrious Mrs. B--;
while her husband amused himself with field sports, without
troubling his head about the matter. Once upon a time the
premises having taken fire, the husband was met, walking up the
High Street loaded with his guns and fishing-rods, and replied
calmly to some one who inquired after his wife, 'that the poor
woman was trying to save a parcel of crockery, and some trumpery
books'; the last being those which served her to conduct the
business of the house.

There were many elderly gentlemen in the author's younger days,
who still held it part of the amusement of a journey 'to parley
with mine host,' who often resembled, in his quaint humour, mine
Host of the Garter in the MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR; or Blague of
the George in the MERRY DEVIL OF EDMONTON. Sometimes the
landlady took her share of entertaining the company. In either
case, the omitting to pay them due attention gave displeasure,
and perhaps brought down a smart jest, as on the following

A jolly dame, who, not 'Sixty Years since,' kept the principal
caravansary at Greenlaw in Berwickshire, had the honour to
receive under her roof a very worthy clergyman, with three sons
of the same profession, each having a cure of souls: be it said
in passing, none of the reverend party were reckoned powerful in
the pulpit. After dinner was over, the worthy senior, in the
pride of his heart, asked Mrs. Buchan whether she ever had had
such a party in her house before. 'Here sit I,' he said, 'a
placed minister of the Kirk of Scotland, and here sit my three
sons, each a placed minister of the same kirk.--confess, Luckie
Buchan, you never had such a party in your house before.' The
question was not premised by any invitation to sit down and take
a glass of wine or the like, so Mrs. B. answered dryly, 'Indeed,
Sir, I cannot just say that ever I had such a party in my house
before, except once in the forty-five, when I had a Highland
piper here, with his three sons, all Highland pipers; AND DEIL A


I am ignorant how long the ancient and established custom of
keeping fools has been disused in England. Swift writes an
epitaph on the Earl of Suffolk's fool,--

'Whose name was Dickie Pearce.'

In Scotland the custom subsisted till late in the last century.
At Glamis Castle, is preserved the dress of one of the jesters,
very handsome, and ornamented with many bells. It is not above
thirty years since such a character stood by the sideboard of a
nobleman of the first rank in Scotland, and occasionally mixed in
the conversation, till he carried the joke rather too far, in
making proposals to one of the young ladies of the family, and
publishing the banns betwixt her and himself in the public


After the Revolution of 1688, and on some occasions when the
spirit of the Presbyterians had been unusually animated against
their opponents, the Episcopal clergymen, who were chiefly non-
jurors, were exposed to be mobbed, as we should now say, or
rabbled, as the phrase then went, to expiate their political
heresies. But notwithstanding that the Presbyterians had the
persecution in Charles II and his brother's time to exasperate
them, there was little mischief done beyond the kind of petty
violence mentioned in the text.


I may here mention, that the fashion of compotation described in
the text, was still occasionally practised in Scotland in the
author's youth. A company, after having taken leave of their
host, often went to finish the evening at the clachan or village,
in 'womb of tavern.' Their entertainer always accompanied them
to take the stirrup-cup, which often occasioned a long and late

The POCULUM POTATORIUM of the valiant Baron, his Blessed Bear,
has a prototype at the fine old Castle of Glamis, so rich in
memorials of ancient times; it is a massive beaker of silver,
double gilt, moulded into the shape of a lion, and holding about
an English pint of wine. The form alludes to the family name of
Strathmore, which is Lyon, and, when exhibited, the cup must
necessarily be emptied to the Earl's health. The author ought
perhaps to be ashamed of recording that he has had the honour of
swallowing the contents of the Lion; and the recollection of the
feat served to suggest the story of the Bear of Bradwardine. In
the family of Scott of Thirlestane (not Thirlestane in the
Forest, but the place of the same name in Roxburghshire) was long
preserved a cup of the same kind, in the form of a jack-boot.
Each guest was obliged to empty this at his departure. If the
guest's name was Scott, the necessity was doubly imperative.

When the landlord of an inn presented his guests with DEOCH AN
DORUIS, that is, the drink at the door, or the stirrup-cup, the
draught was not charged in the reckoning. On this point a
learned Bailie of the town of Forfar pronounced a very sound

A., an ale-wife in Forfar, had brewed her 'peck of malt,' and set
the liquor out of doors to cool; the cow of B., a neighbour of A.
chanced to come by, and seeing the good beverage, was allured to
taste it, and finally to drink it up. When A. came to take in
her liquor, she found the tub empty, and from the cow's
staggering and staring, so as to betray her intemperance, she
easily divined the mode in which her 'brewst' had disappeared.
To take vengeance on Crummie's ribs with a stick, was her first
effort. The roaring of the cow brought B., her master, who
remonstrated with his angry neighbour, and received in reply a
demand for the value of the ale which Crummie had drunk up. B.
refused payment, and was conveyed before C., the Bailie, or
sitting Magistrate. He heard the case patiently; and then
demanded of the plaintiff A., whether the cow had sat down to her
potation, or taken it standing. The plaintiff answered she had
not seen the deed committed, but she supposed the cow drank the
ale standing on her feet; adding, that had she been near, she
would have made her use them to some purpose. The Bailie, on
this admission, solemnly adjudged the cow's drink to be DEOCH AN
DORUIS--a stirrup-cup, for which no charge could be made without
violating the ancient hospitality of Scotland.


Although canting heraldry is generally reprobated, it seems
nevertheless to have been adopted in the arms and mottoes of many
honourable families. Thus the motto of the Vernons, VER NON
SEMPER VIRET, is a perfect pun, and so is that of the Onslows,
liable to a similar objection. One of that ancient race, finding
that an antagonist, with whom he had fixed a friendly meeting,
was determined to take the opportunity of assassinating him,
prevented the hazard by dashing out his brains with a battle-axe.
Two sturdy arms brandishing such a weapon, form the usual crest
of the family, with the above motto--PERIISSEM NI PER-IISSEM--I
had died, unless I had gone through with it.


Mac-Donald of Barrisdale, one of the very last Highland gentlemen
who carried on the plundering system to any great extent, was a
scholar and a well-bred gentleman. He engraved on his
broadswords the well-known lines--

Hae tibi erunt artes--pacisque imponere morem,
Parcere subiectis, et debellare superbos.

Indeed, the levying of blackmail was, before 1745, practised by
several chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing so, contended
that they were lending the laws the assistance of their arms and
swords, and affording a protection which could not be obtained
from the magistracy in the disturbed state of the country. The
author has seen a memoir of Mac-Pherson of Cluny, chief of that
ancient clan, from which it appears that he levied protection-
money to a very large amount, which was willingly paid even by
some of his most powerful neighbours. A gentleman of this clan
hearing a clergyman hold forth to his congregation on the crime
of theft, interrupted the preacher to assure him, he might leave
the enforcement of such doctrines to Cluny Mac-Pherson, whose
broadsword would put a stop to theft sooner than all the sermons
of all the ministers of the synod.


An adventure, very similar to what is here stated, actually
befell the late Mr. Abercromby of Tullibody, grandfather of the
present Lord Abercromby, and father of the celebrated Sir Ralph.
When this gentlemen, who lived to a very advanced period of life,
first settled in Stirlingshire, his cattle were repeatedly driven
off by the celebrated Rob Roy, or some of his gang; and at length
he was obliged, after obtaining a proper safe-conduct, to make
the Cateran such a visit as that of Waverley to Bean Lean in the
text. Rob received him with much courtesy, and made many
apologies for the accident, which must have happened, he said,
through some mistake. Mr. Abercromby was regaled with collops
from two of his own cattle, which were hung up by the heels in
the cavern, and was dismissed in perfect safety, after having
agreed to pay in future a small sum of blackmail, in
consideration of which Rob Roy not only undertook to forbear his
herds in future, but to replace any that should be stolen from
him by other freebooters. Mr. Abercromby said, Rob Roy affected
to consider him as a friend to the Jacobite interest, and a
sincere enemy to the Union. Neither of these circumstances were
true; but the laird thought it quite unnecessary to undeceive his
Highland host at the risk of bringing on a political dispute in
such a situation. This anecdote I received many years since
(about 1792) from the mouth of the venerable gentleman who was
concerned in it.


This celebrated gibbet was, in the memory of the last generation,
still standing at the western end of the town of Crieff, in
Perthshire. Why it was called the kind gallows, we are unable to
inform the reader with certainty; but it is alleged that the
Highlanders used to touch their bonnets as they passed a place
which had been fatal to many of their countrymen, with the
ejaculation--'God bless her nain sell, and the Teil tamn you!'
It may therefore have been called kind, as being a sort of native
or kindred place of doom to those who suffered there, as in
fulfilment of a natural destiny.


The story of the bridegroom carried off by Caterans on his
bridal-day is taken from one which was told to the author by the
late Laird of Mac-Nab, many years since. To carry off persons
from the Lowlands, and to put them to ransom, was a common
practice with the wild Highlanders, as it is said to be at the
present day with the banditti in the south of Italy. Upon the
occasion alluded to, a party of Caterans carried off the
bridegroom, and secreted him in some cave near the mountain of
Schehallion. The young man caught the small-pox before his
ransom could be agreed on; and whether it was the fine cool air
of the place, or the want of medical attendance, Mac-Nab did not
pretend to be positive; but so it was, that the prisoner
recovered, his ransom was paid, and he was restored to his
friends and bride, but always considered the Highland robbers as
having saved his life by their treatment of his malady.


This happened on many occasions. Indeed, it was not till after
the total destruction of the clan influence, after 1745, that
purchasers could be found who offered a fair price for the
estates forfeited in 1715, which were then brought to sale by the
creditors of the York-Buildings Company, who had purchased the
whole, or greater part, from Government at a very small price.
Even so late as the period first mentioned, the prejudices of the
public in favour of the heirs of the forfeited families threw
various impediments in the way of intending purchasers of such


This sort of political game ascribed to Mac-Ivor was in reality
played by several Highland chiefs, the celebrated Lord Lovat in
particular, who used that kind of finesse to the uttermost. The
Laird of Mac-- was also captain of an independent company, but
valued the sweets of present pay too well to incur the risk of
losing them in the Jacobite cause. His martial consort raised
his clan, and headed it in 1745. But the chief himself would
have nothing to do with king-making, declaring himself for that
monarch, and no other, who gave the Laird of Mac-- 'half a guinea
the day, and half a guinea the morn.'


In explanation of the military exercise observed at the Castle of
Glennaquoich, the author begs to remark, that the Highlanders
were not only well practised in the use of the broadsword,
firelock, and most of the manly sports and trials of strength
common throughout Scotland, but also used a peculiar sort of
drill, suited to their own dress and mode of warfare. There
were, for instance, different modes of disposing the plaid,--one
when on a peaceful journey, another when danger was apprehended;
one way of enveloping themselves in it when expecting undisturbed
repose, and another which enabled them to start up with sword and
pistol in hand on the slightest alarm.

Previous to 1720, or thereabouts, the belted plaid was
universally worn, in which the portion which surrounded the
middle of the wearer, and that which was flung around his
shoulders, were all of the same piece of tartan. In a desperate
onset, all was thrown away, and the clan charged bare beneath the
doublet, save for an artificial arrangement of the shirt, which,
like that of the Irish, was always ample, and for the sporran-
mollach, or goat's-skin purse.

The manner of handling the pistol and dirk was also part of the
Highland manual exercise, which the author has seen gone through
by men who had learned it in their youth.


Pork, or swine's flesh, in any shape, was, till of late years,
much abominated by the Scotch, nor is it yet a favourite food
amongst them. King Jamie carried this prejudice to England, and
is known to have abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco.
Ben Jonson has recorded this peculiarity, where the gipsy in a
masque, examining the king's hand, says,--

--'you should, by this line,
Love a horse, and a hound, but no part of a swine.'--

James's own proposed banquet for the devil was a loin of pork and
a poll of ling, with a pipe of tobacco for digestion.


In the number of persons of all ranks who assembled at the same
table, though by no means to discuss the same fare, the Highland
Chiefs only retained a custom which had been formerly universally
observed throughout Scotland. 'I myself,' says the traveller
Fynes Morrison, in the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, the scene
being the Lowlands of Scotland, 'was at a knight's house, who had
many servants to attend him, that brought in his meat with their
heads covered with blue caps, the table being more than half
furnished with great platters of porridge each having a little
piece of sodden meat. And when the table was served, the
servants did sit down with us; but the upper mess, instead of
porridge, had a pullet, with some prunes in the broth.'--TRAVELS,
p. 155.

Till within this last century, the farmers, even of a respectable
condition, dined with their work-people. The difference betwixt
those of high degree was ascertained by the place of the party
above or below the salt, or, sometimes, by a line drawn with
chalk on the dining-table. Lord Lovat, who knew well how to feed
the vanity and restrain the appetites of his clansmen, allowed
each sturdy Fraser, who had the slightest pretension to be a
Duinhe-wassel, the full honour of the sitting, but, at the same
time, took care that his young kinsmen did not acquire at his
table any taste for outlandish luxuries. His Lordship was always
ready with some honourable apology, why foreign wines and French
brandy--delicacies which he conceived might sap the hardy habits
of his cousins--should not circulate past an assigned point on
the table.


In the Irish ballads relating to Fion (the Fingal of Mac-
Pherson), there occurs, as in the primitive poetry of most
nations, a cycle of heroes, each of whom has some distinguishing
attribute: upon these qualities, and the adventures of those
possessing them, many proverbs are formed which are still current
in the Highlands. Among other characters, Conan is distinguished
as in some respects a kind of Thersites, but brave and daring
even to rashness. He had made a vow that he would never take a
blow without returning it; and having, like other heroes of
antiquity, descended to the infernal regions, he received a cuff
from the Arch-fiend; who presided there, which he instantly
returned, using the expression in the text. Sometimes the
proverb is worded thus:--'Claw for claw, and the devil take the
shortest nails, as Conan said to the devil.'


The description of the waterfall mentioned in this chapter is
taken from that of Ledeard, at the farm so called on the northern
side of Lochard, and near the head of the Lake, four or five
miles from Aberfoyle. It is upon a small scale, but otherwise
one of the most exquisite cascades it is possible to behold. The
appearance of Flora with the harp, as described, has been justly
censured as too theatrical and affected for the ladylike
simplicity of her character. But something may be allowed to her
French education, in which point and striking effect always make
a considerable object.


The clan of Mac-Farlane, occupying the fastnesses of the western
side of Loch Lomond, were great depredators on the Low Country;
and as their excursions were made usually by night, the moon was
proverbially called their lantern. Their celebrated pibroch of
HOGGIL NAM BO, which is the name of their gathering tune,
intimates similar practices,--the sense being--

We are bound to drive the bullocks,
All by hollows, hirsts, and hillocks,
Through the sleet and through the rain;
When the moon is beaming low
On frozen lake and hills of snow,
Bold and heartily we go;
And all for little gain.


This noble ruin is dear to my recollection, from associations
which have been long and painfully broken. It holds a commanding
station on the banks of the river Teith, and has been one of the
largest castles in Scotland. Murdock, Duke of Albany, the
founder of this stately pile, was beheaded on the Castle-hill of
Stirling, from which he might see the towers of Doune, the
monument of his fallen greatness.

In 1745-6, as stated in the text, a garrison on the part of the
Chevalier was put into the castle, then less ruinous than at
present. It was commanded by Mr. Stewart of Balloch, as governor
for Prince Charles he was a man of property near Callander. This
castle became at that time the actual scene of a romantic escape
made by John Home, the author of Douglas, and some other
prisoners, who, having been taken at the battle of Falkirk, were
confined there by the insurgents. The poet, who had in his own
mind a large stock of that romantic and enthusiastic spirit of
adventure, which he has described as animating the youthful hero
of his drama, devised and undertook the perilous enterprise of
escaping from his prison. He inspired his companions with his
sentiments and when every attempt at open force was deemed
hopeless, they resolved to twist their bed-clothes into ropes,
and thus to descend. Four persons, with Home himself, reached
the ground in safety. But the rope broke with the fifth, who was
a tall lusty man. The sixth was Thomas Barrow, a brave young
Englishman, a particular friend of Home's. Determined to take
the risk, even in such unfavourable circumstances, Barrow
committed himself to the broken rope, slid down on it as far as
if could assist him, and then let himself drop. His friends
beneath succeeded in breaking his fall. Nevertheless, he
dislocated his ankle, and had several of his ribs broken. His
companions, however, were able to bear him off in safety.

The Highlanders next morning sought for their prisoners with
great activity. An old gentleman told the author he remembered
seeing the commander Stewart,

Bloody with spurring, fiery red with haste,

riding furiously through the country in quest of the fugitives.


The Jacobite sentiments were general among the western counties,
and in Wales. But although the great families of the Wynnes, the
Wyndhams, and others, had come under an actual obligation to join
Prince Charles if he should land, they had done so under the
express stipulation, that he should be assisted by an auxiliary
army of French, without which they foresaw the enterprise would
be desperate. Wishing well to his cause, therefore, and watching
an opportunity to join him, they did not, nevertheless, think
themselves bound in honour to do so, as he was only supported by
a body of wild mountaineers, speaking an uncouth dialect, and
wearing a singular dress. The race up to Derby struck them with
more dread than admiration. But it was difficult to say what the
effect might have been, had either the battle of Preston or
Falkirk been fought and won during the advance into England.


Divisions early showed themselves in the Chevalier's little army,
not only amongst the independent chieftains, who were far too
proud to brook subjection to each other, but betwixt the Scotch
and Charles's governor O'Sullivan, an Irishman by birth, who,
with some of his countrymen bred in the Irish Brigade in the
service of the King of France, had an influence with the
Adventurer much resented by the Highlanders, who were sensible
that their own clans made the chief, or rather the only strength
of his enterprise. There was a feud, also, between Lord George
Murray, and James Murray of Broughton, the Prince's secretary,
whose disunion greatly embarrassed the affairs of the Adventurer.
In general, a thousand different pretensions divided their little
army, and finally contributed in no small degree to its


This circumstance, which is historical, as well as the
description that precedes it, will remind the reader of the war
of La Vendee, in which the royalists, consisting chiefly of
insurgent peasantry, attached a prodigious and even superstitious
interest to the possession of a piece of brass ordnance, which
they called Marie Jeanne.

The Highlanders of an early period were afraid of cannon, with
the noise and effect of which they were totally unacquainted. It
was by means of three or four small pieces of artillery that the
Earl of Huntly and Errol, in James VI's time, gained a great
victory at Glenlivat, over a numerous Highland army, commanded by
the Earl of Argyle. At the battle of the Bridge of Dee, General
Middleton obtained by his artillery a similar success, the
Highlanders not being able to stand the discharge of MUSKET'S-
MOTHER, which was the name they bestowed on great guns. In an
old ballad on the battle of the Bridge of Dee, these verses

The Highlandmen are pretty men
For handling sword and shield,
But yet they are but simple men
To stand a stricken field.

The Highlandmen are pretty men
For target and claymore,
But yet they are but naked men
To face the cannon's roar.

For the cannons roar on a summer night
Like thunder in the air;
Was never man in Highland garb
Would face the cannon fair.

But the Highlanders of 1745 had got far beyond the simplicity of
their forefathers, and showed throughout the whole war how little
they dreaded artillery, although the common people still attached
some consequence to the possession of the field-piece which led
to this disquisition.


The faithful friend who pointed out the pass by which the
Highlanders moved from Tranent to Seaton, was Robert Anderson,
Junior, of Whitburgh, a gentleman of property in East Lothian.
He had been interrogated by the Lord George Murray concerning the
possibility of crossing the uncouth and marshy piece of ground
which divided the armies, and which he described as
impracticable. When dismissed, he recollected that there was a
circuitous path leading eastward through the marsh into the
plain, by which the Highlanders might turn the flank of Sir John
Cope's position, without being exposed to the enemy's fire.
Having mentioned his opinion to Mr. Hepburn of Keith, who
instantly saw its importance, he was encouraged by that gentleman
to awake Lord George Murray, and communicate the idea to him.
Lord George received the information with grateful thanks, and
instantly awakened Prince Charles, who was sleeping in the field
with a bunch of peas under his head. The Adventurer received
with alacrity the news that there was a possibility of bringing
an excellently provided army to a decisive battle with his own
irregular forces. His joy on the occasion was not very
consistent with the charge of cowardice brought against him by
Chevalier Johnstone, a discontented follower, whose Memoirs
possess at least as much of a romantic as a historical character.
Even by the account of the Chevalier himself, the Prince was at
the head of the second line of the Highland army during the
battle, of which he says, 'It was gained with such rapidity, that
in the second line, where I was still by the side of the Prince,
we saw no other enemy than those who were lying on the ground

This passage in the Chevalier's Memoirs places the Prince within
fifty paces of the best of the battle, a position which would
never have been the choice of one unwilling to take a share of
its dangers. Indeed, unless the chiefs had complied with the
young Adventurer's proposal to lead the van in person, it does
not appear that he could have been deeper in the action.


The death of this good Christian and gallant man is thus given by
his affectionate biographer Dr. Doddridge, from the evidence of

'He continued all night under arms, wrapped up in his cloak, and
generally sheltered under a rick of barley, which happened to be
in the field. About three in the morning he called-his domestic
servants to him, of which there were four in waiting. He
dismissed three of them with most affectionate Christian advice,
and such solemn charges relating to the performance of their duty
and the care of their souls, as seemed plainly to intimate that
he apprehended it was at least very probable he was taking his
last farewell of them. There is great reason to believe that he
spent the little remainder of the time, which could not be much
above an hour, in those devout exercises of soul which had been
so long habitual to him and to which so many circumstances did
then concur to call him. The army was alarmed, by break of day,
by the noise of the rebels' approach, and the attack was made
before sunrise, yet when it was light enough to discern what
passed. As soon as the enemy came within gunshot they made a
furious fire; and it is said that the dragoons which constituted
the left wing immediately fled. The Colonel, at the beginning of
the onset, which in the whole lasted but a few minutes, received
a wound by a bullet in his left breast, which made him give a
sudden spring in his saddle upon which his servant, who led the
horse, would have persuaded him to retreat, but he said it was
only a wound in the flesh, and fought on, though he presently
after received a shot in his right thigh. In the meantime, it
was discerned that some of the enemy fell by him, and
particularly one man, who had made him a treacherous visit but a
few days before, with great profession of zeal for the present

'Events of this kind pass in less time than the description of
them can be written, or than it can be read. The Colonel was for
a few moments supported by his men, and particularly by that
worthy person Lieutenant-Colonel Whitney, who was shot through
the arm here, and a few months after fell nobly at the battle of
Falkirk, and by Lieutenant West, a man of distinguished bravery,
as also by about fifteen dragoons, who stood by him to the last.
But after a faint fire, the regiment in general was seized with a
panic; and though their Colonel and some other gallant officers
did what they could to rally them once or twice, they at last
took a precipitate flight. And just in the moment when Colonel
Gardiner seemed to be making a pause to deliberate what duty
required him to do in such circumstances, an accident happened,
which must, I think, in the judgement of every worthy and
generous man, be allowed a sufficient apology for exposing his
life to so great hazard, when his regiment had left him. He saw
a party of the foot, who were then bravely fighting near him, and
whom he was ordered to support, had no officer to head them; upon
which he said eagerly, in the hearing of the person from whom I
had this account, "These brave fellows will be cut to pieces for
want of a commander," or words to that effect; which while he was
speaking, he rode up to them and cried out, "Fire on, my lads,
and fear nothing." But just as the words were out of his mouth, a
Highlander advanced towards him with a scythe fastened to a long
pole, with which he gave him so dreadful a wound on his right
arm, that his sword dropped out of his hand; and at the same time
several others coming about him while he was thus dreadfully
entangled with that cruel weapon, he was dragged off from his
horse. The moment he fell, another Highlander, who, if the
king's evidence at Carlisle may be credited (as I know not why
they should not, though the unhappy creature died denying it),
was one Mac-Naught, who was executed about a year after, gave him
a stroke either with a broadsword or a Lochaber-axe (for my
informant could not exactly distinguish) on the hinder part of
his head, which was the mortal blow. All that his faithful
attendant saw further at this time was, that, as his hat was
falling off, he took it in his left hand, and waved it as a
signal to him to retreat, and added what were the last words he
ever heard him speak, "Take care of yourself," upon which the

I may remark on this extract, that it confirms the account given
in the text of the resistance offered by some of the English
infantry. Surprised by a force of a peculiar and unusual
description, their opposition could not be long or formidable,
especially as they were deserted by the cavalry, and those who
undertook to manage the artillery. But although the affair was
soon decided, I have always understood that many of the infantry
showed an inclination to do their duty.


It is scarcely necessary to say that the character of this brutal
young Laird is entirely imaginary. A gentleman, however, who
resembled Balmawhapple in the article of courage only, fell at
Preston in the manner described. A Perthshire gentleman of high
honour and respectability, one of the handful of cavalry who
followed the fortunes of Charles Edward, pursued the fugitive
dragoons almost alone till near St. Clement's Wells, where the
efforts of some of the officers had prevailed on a few of them to
make a momentary stand. Perceiving at this moment that they were
pursued by only one man and a couple of servants, they turned
upon him and cut him down with their swords. I remember, when a
child, sitting on his grave, where the grass long grew rank and
green, distinguishing it from the rest of the field. A female of
the family then residing at St. Clement's Wells used to tell me
the tragedy, of which she had been an eye-witness, and showed me
in evidence one of the silver clasps of the unfortunate
gentleman's waistcoat.


The name of Andrea de Ferrara is inscribed on all the Scottish
broadswords which are accounted of peculiar excellence. Who this
artist was, what were his fortunes, and when he flourished, have
hitherto defied the research of antiquaries; only it is in
general believed that Andrea de Ferrara was a Spanish or Italian
artificer, brought over by James IV or V to instruct the Scots in
the manufacture of sword blades. Most barbarous nations excel in
the fabrication of arms; and the Scots had attained great
proficiency in forging swords, so early as the field of Pinkie;
at which period the historian Patten describes them as 'all
notably broad and thin, universally made to slice, and of such
exceeding good temper, that as I never saw any so good, so I
think it hard to devise better.' ACCOUNT OF SOMERSET'S

It may be observed, that the best and most genuine Andrea
Ferraras have a crown marked on the blades.


The incident here said to have happened to Flora, Mac-Ivor,
actually befell Miss Nairne, a lady with whom the author had the
pleasure of being acquainted. As the Highland army rushed into
Edinburgh, Miss Nairne, like other ladies who approved of their
cause, stood waving her handkerchief from a balcony, when a ball
from a Highlander's musket, which was discharged by accident,
grazed her forehead. 'Thank God' said she, the instant she
recovered, 'that the accident happened to me, whose principles
are known. Had it befallen a Whig, they would have said it was
done on purpose.'


The Author of Waverley has been charged with painting the young
Adventurer in colours more amiable than his character deserved.
But having known many individuals who were near his person, he
has been described according to the light in which those eye-
witnesses saw his temper and qualifications. Something must be
allowed, no doubt, to the natural exaggerations of those who
remembered him as the bold and adventurous Prince, in whose cause
they had braved death and ruin; but is their evidence to give
place entirely to that of a single malcontent?

I have already noticed the imputations thrown by the Chevalier
Johnstone on the Prince's courage. But some part at least of
that gentleman's tale is purely romantic. It would not, for
instance, be supposed, that at the time he is favouring us with
the highly-wrought account of his amour with the adorable Peggie,
the Chevalier Johnstone was a married man, whose grandchild is
now alive, or that the whole circumstantial story concerning the
outrageous vengeance taken by Gordon of Abbachie on a
Presbyterian clergyman, is entirely apocryphal. At the same time
it may be admitted, that the Prince, like others of his family,
did not esteem the services done him by his adherents so highly
as he ought. Educated in high ideas of his hereditary right, he
has been supposed to have held every exertion and sacrifice made
in his cause as too much the duty of the person making it, to
merit extravagant gratitude on his part. Dr. King's evidence
(which his leaving the Jacobite interest renders somewhat
doubtful) goes to strengthen this opinion.

The ingenious editor of Johnstone's MEMOIRS has quoted a story
said to be told by Helvetius, stating that Prince Charles Edward,
far from voluntarily embarking on his daring expedition, was
literally bound hand and foot, and to which he seems disposed to
yield credit. Now, it being a fact as well known as any in his
history, and, so far as I know, entirely undisputed, that the
Prince's personal entreaties and urgency positively forced
Boisdale and Lochiel into insurrection, when they were earnestly
desirous that he would put off his attempt until he could obtain
a sufficient force from France, it will be very difficult to
reconcile his alleged reluctance to undertake the expedition,
with his desperately insisting on carrying the rising into
effect, against the advice and entreaty of his most powerful and
most sage partisans. Surely a man who had been carried bound on
board the vessel which brought him to so desperate an enterprise,
would have taken the opportunity afforded by the reluctance of
his partisans, to return to France in safety.

It is averred in Johnstone's Memoirs, that Charles Edward left
the field of Culloden without doing the utmost to dispute the
victory; and, to give the evidence on both sides, there is in
existence the more trustworthy testimony of Lord Elcho, who
states, that he himself earnestly exhorted the Prince to charge
at the head of the left wing, which was entire, and retrieve the
day, or die with honour. And on his counsel being declined, Lord
Elcho took leave of him with a bitter execration, swearing he
would never look on his face again, and kept his word.

On the other hand, it seems to have been the opinion of almost
all the other officers, that the day was irretrievably lost, one
wing of the Highlanders being entirely routed, the rest of the
army out-numbered, out-flanked, and in a condition totally
hopeless. In this situation of things, the Irish officers who
surrounded Charles's person interfered to force him off the
field. A cornet who was close to the Prince, left a strong
attestation, that he had seen Sir Thomas Sheridan seize the
bridle of his horse, and turn him round. There is some
discrepancy of evidence; but the opinion of Lord Elcho, a man of
fiery temper, and desperate at the ruin which he beheld
impending, cannot fairly be taken in prejudice of a character for
courage which is intimated by the nature of the enterprise
itself, by the Prince's eagerness to fight on all occasions, by
his determination to advance from Derby to London, and by the
presence of mind which he manifested during the romantic perils
of his escape. The author is far from claiming for this
unfortunate person the praise due to splendid talents; but he
continues to be of opinion, that at the period of his enterprise,
he had a mind capable of facing danger and aspiring to fame.

That Charles Edward had the advantages of a graceful presence,
courtesy, and an address and manner becoming his station, the
author never heard disputed by any who approached his person, nor
does he conceive that these qualities are overcharged in the
present attempt to sketch his portrait. The following extracts,
corroborative of the general opinion respecting the Prince's
amiable disposition, are taken from a manuscript account of his
romantic expedition, by James Maxwell of Kirkconnel, of which I
possess a copy, by the friendship of J. Menzies, Esq., of
Pitfoddells. The author, though partial to the Prince, whom he
faithfully followed, seems to have been a fair and candid man,
and well acquainted with the intrigues among the Adventurer's

'Everybody was mightily taken with the Prince's figure and
personal behaviour. There was but one voice about them. Those
whom interest or prejudice made a runaway to his cause, could not
help acknowledging that they wished him well in all other
respects, and could hardly blame him for his present undertaking.
Sundry things had concurred to raise his character to the highest
pitch, besides the greatness of the enterprise, and the conduct
that had hitherto appeared in the execution of it. There were
several instances of good nature and humanity that had made a
great impression on people's minds, I shall confine myself to two
or three. Immediately after the battle, as the Prince was riding
along the ground that Cope's army had occupied a few minutes
before, one of the officers came up to congratulate him, and
said, pointing to the killed, "Sir, there are your enemies at
your feet." The Prince, far from exulting, expressed a great
deal of compassion for his father's deluded subjects, whom he
declared he was heartily sorry to see in that posture. Next day,
while the Prince was at Pinkie-house, a citizen of Edinburgh came
to make some representation to Secretary Murray about the tents
that city was ordered to furnish against a certain day. Murray
happened to be out of the way, which the Prince hearing of,
called to have the gentleman brought to him, saying, he would
rather dispatch the business, whatever it was, himself, than have
the gentleman wait, which he did, by granting everything that was
asked. So much affability in a young prince, flushed with
victory, drew encomiums even from his enemies. But what gave the
people the highest idea of him, was the negative he gave to a
thing that very nearly concerned his interest, and upon which the
success of his enterprise perhaps depended. It was proposed to
send one of the prisoners to London, to demand of that court a
cartel for the exchange of prisoners taken, and to be taken,


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