A CONFERENCE, AND THE CONSEQUENCE
Major Melville had detained Mr. Morton during his examination of
Waverley, both because he thought he might derive assistance from his
practical good sense and approved loyalty, and also because it was
agreeable to have a witness of unimpeached candour and veracity to
proceedings which touched the honour and safety of a young Englishman of
high rank and family, and the expectant heir of a large fortune. Every
step he knew would be rigorously canvassed, and it was his business to
place the justice and integrity of his own conduct beyond the limits of
question.
When Waverley retired, the laird and clergyman of Cairnvreckan sat down
in silence to their evening meal. While the servants were in attendance,
neither chose to say anything on the circumstances which occupied their
minds, and neither felt it easy to speak upon any other. The youth and
apparent frankness of Waverley stood in strong contrast to the shades
of suspicion which darkened around him, and he had a sort of NAIVETE and
openness of demeanour, that seemed to belong to one unhackneyed in the
ways of intrigue, and which pleaded highly in his favour.
Each mused over the particulars of the examination, and each viewed it
through the medium of his own feelings. Both were men of ready and acute
talent, and both were equally competent to combine various parts of
evidence, and to deduce from them the necessary conclusions. But the
wide difference of their habits and education often occasioned a great
discrepancy in their respective deductions from admitted premises.
Major Melville had been versed in camps and cities; he was vigilant by
profession, and cautious from experience; had met with much evil in
the world, and therefore, though himself an upright magistrate and an
honourable man, his opinions of others were always strict, and sometimes
unjustly severe. Mr. Morton, on the contrary, had passed from the
literary pursuits of a college, where he was beloved by his companions,
and respected by his teachers, to the ease and simplicity of his present
charge, where his opportunities of witnessing evil were few, and never
dwelt upon but in order to encourage repentance and amendment; and where
the love and respect of his parishioners repaid his affectionate zeal in
their behalf, by endeavouring to disguise from him what they knew
would give him the most acute pain, namely, their own occasional
transgressions of the duties which it was the business of his life to
recommend. Thus it was a common saying in the neighbourhood (though
both wore popular characters), that the laird knew only the ill in the
parish, and the minister only the good.
A love of letters, though kept in subordination to his clerical studies
and duties, also distinguished the pastor of Cairnvreckan, and had
tinged his mind in earlier days with a slight feeling of romance, which
no after incidents of real life had entirely dissipated. The early loss
of an amiable young woman, whom he had married for love, and who was
quickly followed to the grave by an only child, had also served, even
after the lapse of many years, to soften a disposition naturally mild
and contemplative. His feelings on the present occasion were therefore
likely to differ from those of the severe disciplinarian, strict
magistrate, and distrustful man of the world.
When the servants had withdrawn, the silence of both parties continued,
until Major Melville, filling his glass, and pushing the bottle to Mr.
Morton, commenced. 'A distressing affair this, Mr. Morton. I fear this
youngster has brought himself within the compass of a halter.'
'God forbid!' answered the clergyman.
'Marry, and amen,' said the temporal magistrate; 'but I think even your
merciful logic will hardly deny the conclusion.'
'Surely, Major,' answered the clergyman, 'I should hope it might be
averted, for aught we have heard to-night?'
'Indeed!' replied Melville. 'But, my good parson, you are one of those
who would communicate to every criminal the benefit of clergy.'
'Unquestionably I would: mercy and long-suffering are the grounds of the
doctrine I am called to teach.'
'True, religiously speaking; but mercy to a criminal may be gross
injustice to the community. I don't speak of this young fellow in
particular, who I heartily wish may be able to clear himself, for I
like both his modesty and his spirit. But I fear he has rushed upon his
fate.'
'And why? Hundreds of misguided gentlemen are now in arms against the
Government; many, doubtless, upon principles which education and
early prejudice have gilded with the names of patriotism and
heroism;--Justice, when she selects her victims from such a multitude
(for surely all will not be destroyed), must regard the moral motive.
He whom ambition, or hope of personal advantage, has led to disturb the
peace of a well-ordered government, let him fall a victim to the laws;
but surely youth, misled by the wild visions of chivalry and imaginary
loyalty, may plead for pardon.'
'If visionary chivalry and imaginary loyalty come within the predicament
of high treason,' replied the magistrate, 'I know no court in
Christendom, my dear Mr. Morton, where they can sue out their Habeas
Corpus.'
'But I cannot see that this youth's guilt is at all established to my
satisfaction,' said the clergyman.
'Because your good nature blinds your good sense,' replied Major
Melville. 'Observe now: this young man, descended of a family of
hereditary Jacobites, his uncle the leader of the Tory interest in the
county of--, his father a disobliged and discontented courtier, his
tutor a nonjuror, and the author of two treasonable volumes--this youth,
I say, enters into Gardiner's dragoons, bringing with him a body-of
young fellows from his uncle's estate, who have not stickled at
avowing, in their way, the High Church principles they learned at
Waverley-Honour, in their disputes with their comrades. To these young
men Waverley is unusually attentive; they are supplied with money beyond
a soldier's wants, and inconsistent with his discipline; and are under
the management of a favourite sergeant, through whom they hold an
unusually close communication with their captain, and affect to consider
themselves as independent of the other officers, and superior to their
comrades.'
'All this, my dear Major, is the natural consequence of their attachment
to their young landlord, and of their finding themselves in a regiment
levied chiefly in the north of Ireland and the west of Scotland, and of
course among comrades disposed to quarrel with them, both as Englishmen,
and as members of the Church of England.'
'Well said, parson!' replied the magistrate.--'I would some of your
synod heard you.--But let me go on. This young man obtains leave
of absence, goes to Tully-Veolan--the principles of the Baron of
Bradwardine are pretty well known, not to mention that this lad's uncle
brought him off in the year fifteen; he engages there in a brawl, in
which he is said to have disgraced the commission he bore; Colonel
Gardiner writes to him, first mildly, then more sharply--I think you
will not doubt his having done so, since he says so; the mess invite
him to explain the quarrel in which he is said to have been involved; he
neither replies to his commander nor his comrades. In the meanwhile, his
soldiers become mutinous and disorderly, and at length, when the rumour
of this unhappy rebellion becomes general, his favourite Sergeant
Houghton, and another fellow, are detected in correspondence with a
French emissary, accredited, as he says, by Captain Waverley, who urges
him, according to the men's confession, to desert with the troop and
join their captain, who was with Prince Charles. In the meanwhile this
trusty captain is, by his own admission, residing at Glennaquoich with
the most active, subtle, and desperate Jacobite in Scotland; he goes
with him at least as far as their famous hunting rendezvous, and I
fear a little farther. Meanwhile two other summonses are sent him;
one warning him of the disturbances in his troop, another peremptorily
ordering him to repair to the regiment, which, indeed, common sense
might have dictated, when he observed rebellion thickening all round
him. He returns an absolute refusal, and throws up his commission.'
'He had been already deprived of it,' said Mr. Morton.
'But he regrets,' replied Melville, 'that the measure had anticipated
his resignation. His baggage is seized at his quarters, and at
Tully-Veolan, and is found to contain a stock of pestilent jacobitical
pamphlets, enough to poison a whole country, besides the unprinted
lucubrations of his worthy friend and tutor Mr. Pembroke.
'He says he never read them,' answered the minister.
'In an ordinary case I should believe him,' replied the magistrate, 'for
they are as stupid and pedantic in composition, as mischievous in their
tenets. But can you suppose anything but value for the principles they
maintain would induce a young man of his age to lug such trash about
with him? Then, when news arrive of the approach of the rebels, he sets
out in a sort of disguise, refusing to tell his name; and, if yon old
fanatic tell truth, attended by a very suspicious character, and mounted
on a horse known to have belonged to Glennaquoich, and bearing on his
person letters from his family expressing high rancour against the house
of Brunswick, and a copy of verses in praise of one Wogan, who abjured
the service of the Parliament to join the Highland insurgents, when in
arms to restore the house of Stuart, with a body of English cavalry the
very counterpart of his own plot--and summed up with a "Go thou and
do likewise," from that loyal subject, and most safe and peaceable
character, Fergus Mac-Ivor of Glennaquoich, Vich Ian Vohr, and so forth.
And, lastly,' continued Major Melville, warming in the detail of his
arguments, 'where do we find this second edition of Cavalier Wogan? Why,
truly, in the very track most proper for execution of his design, and
pistolling the first of the king's subjects who ventures to question his
intentions.'
Mr. Morton prudently abstained from argument, which he perceived would
only harden the magistrate in his opinion, and merely asked how he
intended to dispose of the prisoner?
'It is a question of some difficulty, considering the state of the
country,' said Major Melville.
'Could you not detain him (being such a gentleman-like young man) here
in your own house, out of harm's way, till this storm blow over?'
'My good friend,' said Major Melville, 'neither your house nor mine will
be long out of harm's way, even were it legal to confine him here. I
have just learned that the commander-in-chief, who marched into the
Highlands to seek out and disperse the insurgents, has declined giving
them battle at Corryerick, and marched on northward with all the
disposable force of Government to Inverness, John-o'-Groat's House, or
the devil, for what I know, leaving the road to the Low Country open and
undefended to the Highland army.'
'Good God!' said the clergyman. 'Is the man a coward, a traitor, or an
idiot?'
'None of the three, I believe,' answered Melville. 'Sir John has the
commonplace courage of a common soldier, is honest enough, does what he
is commanded, and understands what is told him, but is as fit to act for
himself in circumstances of importance, as I, my dear parson, to occupy
your pulpit.'
This important public intelligence naturally diverted the discourse from
Waverley for some time; at length, however, the subject was resumed.
'I believe,' said Major Melville, 'that I must give this young man in
charge to some of the detached parties of armed volunteers, who were
lately sent out to overawe the disaffected districts, They are now
recalled towards Stirling, and a small body comes this way to-morrow or
next day, commanded by the westland man,--what's his name?--You saw him,
and said he was the very model of one of Cromwell's military saints,'
Gilfillan, the Cameronian,' answered Mr. Morton. 'I wish the young
gentleman may be safe with him. Strange things are done in the heat and
hurry of minds in so agitating a crisis, and I fear Gilfillan is of a
sect which has suffered persecution without learning mercy.'
'He has only to lodge Mr. Waverley in Stirling Castle,' said the Major:
'I will give strict injunctions to treat him well. I really cannot
devise any better mode for securing him, and I fancy you would hardly
advise me to encounter the responsibility of setting him at liberty.'
'But you will have no objection to my seeing him tomorrow in private?'
said the minister.
'None, certainly; your loyalty and character are my warrant. But with
what view do you make the request?'
'Simply,' replied Mr. Morton, 'to make the experiment whether he may not
be brought to communicate to me some circumstances which may hereafter
be useful to alleviate, if not to exculpate his conduct.'
The friends now parted and retired to rest, each filled with the most
anxious reflections on the state of the country.