CHAPTER XI
THE BANQUET
The entertainment was ample and handsome, according to the Scotch ideasof the period, and the guests did great honour to it. The Baron eatlike a famished soldier, the Laird of Balmawhapple like a sportsman,Bullsegg of Killancureit like a farmer, Waverley himself like atraveller, and Bailie Macwheeble like all four together; though, eitherout of more respect, or in order to preserve that proper declination ofperson which showed a sense that he was in the presence of his patron,he sat upon the edge of his chair, placed at three feet distance fromthe table, and achieved a communication with his plate by projectinghis person towards it in a line which obliqued from the bottom of hisspine, so that the person who sat opposite to him could only see theforetop of his riding periwig.
This stooping position might have been inconvenient to another person;but long habit made it, whether seated or walking, perfectly easy tothe worthy Bailie. In the latter posture it occasioned, no doubt, anunseemly projection of the person towards those who happened to walkbehind; but those being at all times his inferiors (for Mr. Macwheeblewas very scrupulous in giving place to all others), he cared verylittle what inference of contempt or slight regard they might derivefrom the circumstance. Hence, when he waddled across the court to andfrom his old grey pony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking uponits hind legs.
The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive and interesting old man, withmuch of the air of a sufferer for conscience' sake. He was one of those
Who, undeprived, their benefice forsook.
For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the Bailie usedsometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, upbraiding him with the nicetyof his scruples. Indeed, it must be owned, that he himself, though atheart a keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept pretty fair withall the different turns of state in his time; so that Davie Gellatleyonce described him as a particularly good man, who had a very quiet andpeaceful conscience, THAT NEVER DID HIM ANY HARM.
When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced the health of theKing, politely leaving to the consciences of his guests to drink to thesovereign de facto or de jure, as their politics inclined. Theconversation now became general; and, shortly afterwards, MissBradwardine, who had done the honours with natural grace andsimplicity, retired, and was soon followed by the clergyman. Among therest of the party, the wine, which fully justified the encomiums of thelandlord, flowed freely round, although Waverley, with some difficulty,obtained the privilege of sometimes neglecting the glass. At length, asthe evening grew more late, the Baron made a private signal to Mr.Saunders Saunderson, or, as he facetiously denominated him, Alexanderab Alexandro, who left the room with a nod, and soon after returned,his grave countenance mantling with a solemn and mysterious smile, andplaced before his master a small oaken casket, mounted with brassornaments of curious form. The Baron, drawing out a private key,unlocked the casket, raised the lid, and produced a golden goblet of asingular and antique appearance, moulded into the shape of a rampantbear, which the owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, pride,and delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverley of Ben Jonson's TomOtter, with his Bull, Horse, and Dog, as that wag wittily denominatedhis chief carousing cups. But Mr. Bradwardine, turning towards him withcomplacency, requested him to observe this curious relic of the oldentime.
'It represents,' he said, 'the chosen crest of our family, a bear, asye observe, and RAMPANT; because a good herald will depict every animalin its noblest posture, as a horse SALIENT, a greyhound CURRANT, and,as may be inferred, a ravenous animal in actu ferociori, or in avoracious, lacerating, and devouring posture. Now, sir, we hold thismost honourable achievement by the wappen-brief, or concession of arms,of Frederick Red-beard, Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, GodmundBradwardine, it being the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom he slew in thelists in the Holy Land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of theemperor's spouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely which, andthus, as Virgilius hath it--
Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis Aptemus.
Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought by the command ofSaint Duthac, Abbot of Aberbrothock, for behoof of another baron of thehouse of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended the patrimony of thatmonastery against certain encroaching nobles. It is properly termed theBlessed Bear of Bradwardine (though old Doctor Doubleit used jocoselyto call it Ursa Major), and was supposed, in old and Catholic times, tobe invested with certain properties of a mystical and supernaturalquality. And though I give not in to such anilia, it is certain it hasalways been esteemed a solemn standard cup and heirloom of our house;nor is it ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I holdto be the arrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof; and Idevote this draught to the health and prosperity of the ancient andhighly-to-be-honoured house of Waverley.'
During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a cob-webbed bottle ofclaret into the goblet, which held nearly an English pint; and, at theconclusion, delivering the bottle to the butler, to be held carefullyin the same angle with the horizon, he devoutly quaffed off thecontents of the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine.
Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal making his rounds, andthought with great anxiety upon the appropriate motto, 'Beware theBear'; but, at the same time, plainly foresaw that, as none of theguests scrupled to do him this extraordinary honour, a refusal on hispart to pledge their courtesy would be extremely ill received.Resolving, therefore, to submit to this last piece of tyranny, and thento quit the table, if possible, and confiding in the strength of hisconstitution, he did justice to the company in the contents of theBlessed Bear, and felt less inconvenience from the draught than hecould possibly have expected. The others, whose time had been moreactively employed, began to show symptoms of innovation--'the good winedid its good office.' [Footnote: Southey's Madoc.] The frost ofetiquette and pride of birth began to give way before the genialblessings of this benign constellation, and the formal appellativeswith which the three dignitaries had hitherto addressed each other werenow familiarly abbreviated into Tully, Bally, and Killie. When a fewrounds had passed, the two latter, after whispering together, cravedpermission (a joyful hearing for Edward) to ask the grace-cup. This,after some delay, was at length produced, and Waverley concluded theorgies of Bacchus were terminated for the evening. He was never moremistaken in his life.
As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or change-house,as it was called, of the village, the Baron could not, in politeness,avoid walking with them up the avenue, and Waverley from the samemotive, and to enjoy after this feverish revel the cool summer evening,attended the party. But when they arrived at Luckie Macleary's theLairds of Balmawhapple and Killancureit declared their determination toacknowledge their sense of the hospitality of Tully-Veolan bypartaking, with their entertainer and his guest Captain Waverley, whatthey technically called deoch an doruis, a stirrup-cup, [Footnote 2:See Note 10] to the honour of the Baron's roof-tree.
It must be noticed that the Bailie, knowing by experience that theday's jovialty, which had been hitherto sustained at the expense of hispatron, might terminate partly at his own, had mounted his spavinedgrey pony, and, between gaiety of heart and alarm for being hooked intoa reckoning, spurred him into a hobbling canter (a trot was out of thequestion), and had already cleared the village. The others entered thechange-house, leading Edward in unresisting submission; for hislandlord whispered him, that to demur to such an overture would beconstrued into a high misdemeanour against the leges conviviales, orregulations of genial compotation. Widow Macleary seemed to haveexpected this visit, as well she might, for it was the usualconsummation of merry bouts, not only at Tully-Veolan, but at mostother gentlemen's houses in Scotland, Sixty Years Since. The gueststhereby at once acquitted themselves of their burden of gratitude fortheir entertainer's kindness, encouraged the trade of his change-house,did honour to the place which afforded harbour to their horses, andindemnified themselves for the previous restraints imposed b
y privatehospitality, by spending what Falstaff calls the sweet of the night inthe genial license of a tavern.
Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests, LuckieMacleary had swept her house for the first time this fortnight,tempered her turf-fire to such a heat as the season required in herdamp hovel even at Midsummer, set forth her deal table newly washed,propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf, arranged four or fivestools of huge and clumsy form upon the sites which best suited theinequalities of her clay floor; and having, moreover, put on her cleantoy, rokelay, and scarlet plaid, gravely awaited the arrival of thecompany, in full hope of custom and profit. When they were seated underthe sooty rafters of Luckie Macleary's only apartment, thicklytapestried with cobwebs, their hostess, who had already taken her cuefrom the Laird of Balmawhapple, appeared with a huge pewtermeasuring-pot, containing at least three English quarts, familiarlydenominated a Tappit Hen, and which, in the language of the hostess,reamed (i.e., mantled) with excellent claret just drawn from the cask.
It was soon plain that what crumbs of reason the Bear had not devouredwere to be picked up by the Hen; but the confusion which appeared toprevail favoured Edward's resolution to evade the gaily circling glass.The others began to talk thick and at once, each performing his ownpart in the conversation without the least respect to his neighbour.The Baron of Bradwardine sung French chansons-a-boire, and spoutedpieces of Latin; Killancureit talked, in a steady unalterable dull key,of top-dressing and bottom-dressing, [Footnote: This has been censuredas an anachronism; and it must be confessed that agriculture of thiskind was unknown to the Scotch Sixty Years Since.] and year-olds, andgimmers, and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, and kyloes, and a proposedturnpike-act; while Balmawhapple, in notes exalted above both, extolledhis horse, his hawks, and a greyhound called Whistler. In the middle ofthis din, the Baron repeatedly implored silence; and when at length theinstinct of polite discipline so far prevailed that for a moment heobtained it, he hastened to beseech their attention 'unto a militaryariette, which was a particular favourite of the Marechal Duc deBerwick'; then, imitating, as well as he could, the manner and tone ofa French musquetaire, he immediately commenced,--
Mon coeur volage, dit elle, N'est pas pour vous, garcon; Est pour un homme de guerre, Qui a barbe au menton. Lon, Lon, Laridon.
Qui port chapeau a plume, Soulier a rouge talon, Qui joue de la flute, Aussi du violon. Lon, Lon, Laridon.
Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called ad--d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar;and, without wasting more time, struck up,--
It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, And mony a weary cast I made, To cuittle the moor-fowl's tail.
[Footnote: Suum cuique. This snatch of a ballad was composed by AndrewMacDonald, the ingenious and unfortunate author of Vimonda.]
The Baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder and more obstreperousstrains of Balmawhapple, now dropped the competition, but continued tohum 'Lon, Lon, Laridon,' and to regard the successful candidate for theattention of the company with an eye of disdain, while Balmawhappleproceeded,--
If up a bonny black-cock should spring, To whistle him down wi' a slug in his wing, And strap him on to my lunzie string, Right seldom would I fail.
After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sung thefirst over again; and, in prosecution of his triumph, declared therewas 'more sense in that than in all the derry-dongs of France, andFifeshire to the boot of it.' The Baron only answered with a long pinchof snuff and a glance of infinite contempt. But those noble allies, theBear and the Hen, had emancipated the young laird from the habitualreverence in which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pronouncedthe claret shilpit, and demanded brandy with great vociferation. It wasbrought; and now the Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arisingfrom this Dutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful notein the strange compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her,the Laird of Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and winks withwhich the Baron of Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hithertochecked his entering upon political discussion, demanded a bumper, withthe lungs of a Stentor, 'to the little gentleman in black velvet whodid such service in 1702, and may the white horse break his neck over amound of his making!'
Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember that KingWilliam's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to be owing to hishorse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined to take umbrage at atoast which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple's eye, to have apeculiar and uncivil reference to the Government which he served. But,ere he could interfere, the Baron of Bradwardine had taken up thequarrel. 'Sir,' he said, 'whatever my sentiments tanquam privatus maybe in such matters, I shall not tamely endure your saying anything thatmay impinge upon the honourable feelings of a gentleman under my roof.Sir, if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not respectthe military oath, the sacramentum militare, by which every officer isbound to the standards under which he is enrolled? Look at TitusLivius, what he says of those Roman soldiers who were so unhappy asexuere sacramentum, to renounce their legionary oath; but you areignorant, sir, alike of ancient history and modern courtesy.'
'Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me,' roared Balmawhapple. 'I kenweel that you mean the Solemn League and Covenant; but if a' the Whigsin hell had taken the--'
Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, the former calling out,'Be silent, sir! ye not only show your ignorance, but disgrace yournative country before a stranger and an Englishman'; and Waverley, atthe same moment, entreating Mr. Bradwardine to permit him to reply toan affront which seemed levelled at him personally. But the Baron wasexalted by wine, wrath, and scorn above all sublunary considerations.
'I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley; you are elsewhere,peradventure, sui juris,--foris-familiated, that is, and entitled, itmay be, to think and resent for yourself; but in my domain, in thispoor Barony of Bradwardine, and under this roof, which is quasi mine,being held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I am in locoparentis to you, and bound to see you scathless. And for you, Mr.Falconer of Balmawhapple, I warn ye, let me see no more aberrationsfrom the paths of good manners.'
'And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine andTully-Veolan,' retorted the sportsman in huge disdain, 'that I'll makea moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether it be acrop-eared English Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug, or ane whadeserts his ain friends to claw favour wi' the rats of Hanover.'
In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate passesexchanged. Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active; but the Baron,infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like Sir Toby Belch, havetickled his opponent other gates than he did had he not been under theinfluence of Ursa Major.
Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but theprostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which he stumbled,intercepted his passage. How Killancureit happened to be in thisrecumbent posture at so interesting a moment was never accuratelyknown. Some thought he was about to insconce himself under the table;he himself alleged that he stumbled in the act of lifting ajoint-stool, to prevent mischief, by knocking down Balmawhapple. Bethat as it may, if readier aid than either his or Waverley's had notinterposed, there would certainly have been bloodshed. But thewell-known clash of swords, which was no stranger to her dwelling,aroused Luckie Macleary as she sat quietly beyond the hallan, orearthen partition of the cottage, with eyes employed on Boston's 'Crookthe Lot,' while her ideas were engaged in summing up the reckoning. Sheboldly rushed in, with the shrill expostulation, 'Wad their honoursslay ane another there, and bring discredit on an honest widow-woman'shouse, when there was a' the lee-land in the country to fight upon?' aremonstrance which she seconded by flinging her plaid with greatdexterity over the weapons of the combatants. The servants by this
timerushed in, and being, by great chance, tolerably sober, separated theincensed opponents, with the assistance of Edward and Killancureit. Thelatter led off Balmawhapple, cursing, swearing, and vowing revengeagainst every Whig, Presbyterian, and fanatic in England and Scotland,from John-o'-Groat's to the Land's End, and with difficulty got him tohorse. Our hero, with the assistance of Saunders Saunderson, escortedthe Baron of Bradwardine to his own dwelling, but could not prevailupon him to retire to bed until he had made a long and learned apologyfor the events of the evening, of which, however, there was not a wordintelligible, except something about the Centaurs and the Lapithae.