A HIGHLAND FEAST
Ere Waverley entered the banqueting hall, he was offered the
patriarchal refreshment of a bath for the feet, which the sultry
weather, and the morasses he had traversed, rendered highly
acceptable. He was not, indeed, so luxuriously attended upon this
occasion as the heroic travellers in the Odyssey; the task of
ablution and abstersion being performed, not by a beautiful
damsel, trained
To chafe the limb, and pour the fragrant oil,
but by a smoke-dried skinny old Highland woman, who did not seem
to think herself much honoured by the duty imposed upon her, but
muttered between her teeth, 'Our fathers' herds did not feed so
near together that I should do you this service.' A small
donation, however, amply reconciled this ancient handmaiden to the
supposed degradation; and, as Edward proceeded to the hall, she
gave him her blessing in the Gaelic proverb, 'May the open hand be
filled the fullest.'
The hall, in which the feast was prepared, occupied all the first
story of lan nan Chaistel's original erection, and a huge oaken
table extended through its whole length. The apparatus for dinner
was simple, even to rudeness, and the company numerous, even to
crowding. At the head of the table was the Chief himself, with
Edward, and two or three Highland visitors of neighbouring clans;
the elders of his own tribe, wadsetters and tacksmen, as they were
called, who occupied portions of his estate as mortgagers or
lessees, sat next in rank; beneath them, their sons and nephews
and foster-brethren; then the officers of the Chief's household,
according to their order; and lowest of all, the tenants who
actually cultivated the ground. Even beyond this long perspective,
Edward might see upon the green, to which a huge pair of folding
doors opened, a multitude of Highlanders of a yet inferior
description, who, nevertheless, were considered as guests, and had
their share both of the countenance of the entertainer and of the
cheer of the day. In the distance, and fluctuating round this
extreme verge of the banquet, was a changeful group of women,
ragged boys and girls, beggars, young and old, large greyhounds,
and terriers, and pointers, and curs of low degree; all of whom
took some interest, more or less immediate, in the main action of
the piece.
This hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its line of
economy. Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes of
fish, game, etc., which were at the upper end of the table, and
immediately under the eye of the English stranger. Lower down
stood immense clumsy joints of mutton and beef, which, but for the
absence of pork, [Footnote: See Note 21.] abhorred in the
Highlands, resembled the rude festivity of the banquet of
Penelope's suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb,
called 'a hog in har'st,' roasted whole. It was set upon its legs,
with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibited
in that form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself
more on the plenty than the elegance of his master's table. The
sides of this poor animal were fiercely attacked by the clansmen,
some with dirks, others with the knives which were usually in the
same sheath with the dagger, so that it was soon rendered a
mangled and rueful spectacle. Lower down still, the victuals
seemed of yet coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant.
Broth, onions, cheese, and the fragments of the feast regaled the
sons of Ivor who feasted in the open air.
The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under similar
regulations. Excellent claret and champagne were liberally
distributed among the Chief's immediate neighbours; whisky, plain
or diluted, and strong beer refreshed those who sat near the lower
end. Nor did this inequality of distribution appear to give the
least offence. Every one present understood that his taste was to
be formed according to the rank which he held at table; and,
consequently, the tacksmen and their dependants always professed
the wine was too cold for their stomachs, and called, apparently
out of choice, for the liquor which was assigned to them from
economy. [Footnote: See Note 22.] The bag-pipers, three in number,
screamed, during the whole time of dinner, a tremendous war-tune;
and the echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtic
tongue, produced such a Babel of noises that Waverley dreaded his
ears would never recover it. Mac-Ivor, indeed, apologised for the
confusion occasioned by so large a party, and pleaded the
necessity of his situation, on which unlimited hospitality was
imposed as a paramount duty. 'These stout idle kinsmen of mine,'
he said, 'account my estate as held in trust for their support;
and I must find them beef and ale, while the rogues will do
nothing for themselves but practise the broadsword, or wander
about the hills, shooting, fishing, hunting, drinking, and making
love to the lasses of the strath. But what can I do, Captain
Waverley? everything will keep after its kind, whether it be a
hawk or a Highlander.' Edward made the expected answer, in a
compliment upon his possessing so many bold and attached
followers.
'Why, yes,' replied the Chief, 'were I disposed, like my father,
to put myself in the way of getting one blow on the head, or two
on the neck, I believe the loons would stand by me. But who thinks
of that in the present day, when the maxim is, "Better an old
woman with a purse in her hand than three men with belted
brands"?' Then, turning to the company, he proposed the 'Health of
Captain Waverley, a worthy friend of his kind neighbour and ally,
the Baron of Bradwardine.'
'He is welcome hither,' said one of the elders, 'if he come from
Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine.'
'I say nay to that,' said an old man, who apparently did not mean
to pledge the toast; 'I say nay to that. While there is a green
leaf in the forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne.
'There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine,'
answered another ancient; 'and the guest that comes hither from
him should be welcome, though he came with blood on his hand,
unless it were blood of the race of Ivor.'
The old man whose cup remained full replied, 'There has been blood
enough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine.'
'Ah! Ballenkeiroch,' replied the first, 'you think rather of the
flash of the carbine at the mains of Tully-Veolan than the glance
of the sword that fought for the cause at Preston.'
'And well I may,' answered Ballenkeiroch; 'the flash of the gun
cost me a fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has done
but little for King James.'
The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley that
the Baron had shot this old man's son in a fray near Tully-Veolan,
about seven years before; and then hastened to remove
Ballenkeiroch's prejudice, by informing him that Waverley was an
Englishman, unconnected by birth or alliance with the family of
Bradwardine; upon which the old gentleman raised the hitherto-
untasted cup and courteously drank to his health. This ceremony
being requited in kind, the Chieftain made a signal for the pipes
to cease, and said aloud, 'Where is the song hidden, my friends,
that Mac-Murrough cannot find it?'
Mac-Murrough, the family bhairdh, an aged man, immediately took
the hint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, a
profusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audience
with all the applause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his
declamation, his ardour seemed to increase. He had at first spoken
with his eyes fixed on the ground; he now cast them around as if
beseeching, and anon as if commanding, attention, and his tones
rose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with appropriate
gestures. He seemed to Edward, who attended to him with much
interest, to recite many proper names, to lament the dead, to
apostrophise the absent, to exhort, and entreat, and animate those
who were present. Waverley thought he even discerned his own name,
and was convinced his conjecture was right from the eyes of the
company being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously.
The ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to the
audience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercer
and more animated expression; all bent forward towards the
reciter, many sprung up and waved their arms in ecstasy, and some
laid their hands on their swords. When the song ceased, there was
a deep pause, while the aroused feelings of the poet and of the
hearers gradually subsided into their usual channel.
The Chieftain, who, during this scene had appeared rather to watch
the emotions which were excited than to partake their high tone of
enthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood by
him. 'Give this,' he said to an attendant, 'to Mac-Murrough nan
Fonn (i.e. of the songs), and when he has drank the juice, bid him
keep, for the sake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd which
contained it.' The gift was received by Mac-Murrough with profound
gratitude; he drank the wine, and, kissing the cup, shrouded it
with reverence in the plaid which was folded on his bosom. He then
burst forth into what Edward justly supposed to be an
extemporaneous effusion of thanks and praises of his Chief. It was
received with applause, but did not produce the effect of his
first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded the
generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Many approved
Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the Chieftain
gave his guest the following versions:--
'To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe.' 'To him
that never forsook a comrade.' 'To him that never bought or sold
justice.' 'Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the
tyrant.' 'The lads with the kilts.' 'Highlanders, shoulder to
shoulder,'--with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature.
Edward was particularly solicitous to know the meaning of that
song which appeared to produce such effect upon the passions of
the company, and hinted his curiosity to his host. 'As I observe,'
said the Chieftain, 'that you have passed the bottle during the
last three rounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to my
sister's tea-table, who can explain these things to you better
than I can. Although I cannot stint my clan in the usual current
of their festivity, yet I neither am addicted myself to exceed in
its amount, nor do I,' added he, smiling, 'keep a Bear to devour
the intellects of such as can make good use of them.'
Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain,
saying a few words to those around him, left the table, followed
by Waverley. As the door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich Ian
Vohr's health invoked with a wild and animated cheer, that
expressed the satisfaction of the guests and the depth of their
devotion to his service.