A SOLDIER'S DINNER
James of the Needle was a man of his word, when whisky was no party
to the contract; and upon this occasion Callum Beg, who still thought
himself in Waverley's debt, since he had declined accepting compensation
at the expense of mine Host of the Candlestick's person, took the
opportunity of discharging the obligation, by mounting guard over the
hereditary tailor of Sliochd nan Ivor; and, as he expressed himself,
'targed him tightly' till the finishing of the job. To rid himself of
this restraint, Shemus's needle flew through the tartan like lightning;
and as the artist kept chanting some dreadful skirmish of Fin Macoul,
he accomplished at least three stitches to the death of every hero. The
dress was, therefore, soon ready, for the short coat fitted the wearer,
and the rest of the apparel required little adjustment.
Our hero having now fairly assumed the 'garb of old Gaul,' well
calculated its it was to give an appearance of strength to a figure,
which, though tall and well-made, was rather elegant than robust, I hope
my fair readers will excuse him if he looked at himself in the mirror
more than once, and could not help acknowledging that the reflection
seemed that of a very handsome young fellow. In fact, there was
no disguising it. His light-brown hair--for he wore no periwig,
notwithstanding the universal fashion of the time--became the bonnet
which surmounted it. His person promised firmness and agility, to which
the ample folds of the tartan added an air of dignity. His blue eye
seemed of that kind,
Which melted in love, and which kindled in war;
and an air of bashfulness, which was in reality the effect of want of
habitual intercourse with the world, gave interest to his features,
without injuring their grace or intelligence.
'He's a pratty man--a very pratty man,' said Evan Dhu (now Ensign
Maccombich) to Fergus's buxom landlady.
'He's vera weel,' said the Widow Flockhart, 'but no naething sae
weel-far'd as your colonel, ensign.'
'I wasna comparing them,' quoth Evan, 'nor was I speaking about his
being weel-favoured; but only that Mr. Waverley looks clean-made and
DELIVER, and like a proper lad of his quarters, that will not cry
barley in a brulzie, And, indeed, he's gleg aneuch at the broadsword and
target, I hae played wi' him mysell at Glennaquoich, and sae has Vich
Ian Vohr, often of a Sunday afternoon,'
'Lord forgie ye, Ensign Maccombich,' said the alarmed Presbyterian; 'I'm
sure the colonel wad never do the like o' that!'
'Hout! hout! Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the ensign, 'we're young blude, ye
ken; and young saints, auld deils.'
'But will ye fight wi' Sir John Cope the morn, Ensign Maccombich?'
demanded Mrs. Flockhart of her guest.
'Troth I'se ensure him, an' he'll bide us, Mrs. Flockhart,' replied the
Gael.
'And will ye face thae tearing chields, the dragoons, Ensign
Maccombich?' again inquired the landlady.
'Claw for claw, as Conan said to Satan, Mrs. Flockhart, and the deevil
tak the shortest nails.'
'And will the colonel venture on the bagganets himsell?'
'Ye may swear it, Mrs. Flockhart; the very first man will he be, by
Saint Phedar.'
'Merciful goodness! and if he's killed amang the red-coats!' exclaimed
the soft-hearted widow.
'Troth, if it should sae befall, Mrs. Flockhart, I ken ane that will
no be living to weep for him. But we maun a' live the day, and have
our dinner; and there's Vich Ian Vohr has packed his DORLACH, and Mr.
Waverley's wearied wi' majoring yonder afore the muckle pier-glass; and
that grey auld stoor carle, the Baron o' Bradwardine, that shot young
Ronald of Ballenkeiroch, he's coming down the close wi' that droghling
coghling bailie body they ca' Macwhupple, just like the Laird o'
Kittlegab's French cook, wi' his turn-spit doggie trindling ahint him,
and I am as hungry as a gled, my bonny dow; sae bid Kate set on the
broo', and do ye put on your pinners, for ye ken Vich Ian Vohr winna
sit down till ye be at the head o' the table;--and dinna forget the pint
bottle o' brandy, my woman.'
This hint produced dinner. Mrs. Flockhart, smiling in her weeds like the
sun through a mist; took the head of the table, thinking within herself,
perhaps, that she cared not how long the rebellion lasted, that brought
her into company so much above her usual associates. She was supported
by Waverley and the Baron, with the advantage of the Chieftain
VIS-A-VIS. The men of peace and of war, that is, Bailie Macwheeble and
Ensign Maccombich, after many profound conges to their superiors and
each other, took their places on each side of the Chieftain. Their fare
was excellent, time, place, and circumstances considered, and Fergus's
spirits were extravagantly high. Regardless of danger, and sanguine from
temper, youth, and ambition, he saw in imagination all his prospects
crowned with success, and was totally indifferent to the probable
alternative of a soldier's grave. The Baron apologized slightly for
bringing Macwheeble. They had been providing, he said, for the expenses
of the campaign. 'And, by my faith,' said the old man, 'as I think this
will be my last, so I just end where I began--I hae evermore found
the sinews of war, as a learned author calls the CAISSE MILITAIRE mair
difficult to come by than either its flesh, blood, or bones.'
'What! have you raised our only efficient body of cavalry, and got ye
none of the louis d'or out of the DOUTELLE, to help you?' [The Doutelle
was an armed vessel, which brought a small supply of money and arms from
France for the use of the insurgents.]
'No, Glennaquoich; cleverer fellows have been before me.'
'That's a scandal,' said the young Highlander; 'but you will share what
is left of my subsidy: it will save you an anxious thought to-night, and
will be all one to-morrow, for we shall all be provided for, one way or
other, before the sun sets.' Waverley, blushing deeply, but with great
earnestness, pressed the same request.
'I thank ye baith, my good lads,' said the Baron, 'but I will not
infringe upon your peculium. Bailie Macwheeble has provided the sum
which is necessary.'
Here the Bailie shifted and fidgeted about in his seat, and appeared
extremely uneasy. At length, after several preliminary hems, and much
tautological expression of his devotion to his honour's service, by
night or day, living or dead, he began to insinuate, 'that the Banks
had removed a' their ready cash into the Castle; that, nae doubt, Sandie
Goldie, the silversmith, would do mickle for his honour; but there was
little time to get the wadset made out; and, doubtless, if his honour
Glennaquoich, or Mr. Waverley, could accommodate'--
'Let me hear of no such nonsense, sir,' said the Baron, in a tone which
rendered Macwheeble mute, 'but proceed as we accorded before dinner, if
it be your wish to remain in my service.'
To this peremptory order the Bailie, though he felt as if condemned
to suffer a transfusion of blood from his own veins into those of the
Baron, did not presume to make any reply. After fidgeting a little while
longer, however, he addressed himself to Glennaquoich, and told him, if
his honour had mair ready siller than was sufficient for his occasions
in the field, he could put it out at use for his honour in safe hands,
and at great profit, at this time.
At this proposal Fergus laughed heartily, and answered, when he had
recovered his breath,--'Many thanks, Bailie; but you must know it is a
general custom among us soldiers to make our landlady our banker.--Here,
Mrs. Flockhart,' said he, taking four or five broad pieces out of a
well-filled purse, and tossing the purse itself, with its remaining
contents, into her apron, 'these will serve my occasions; do you take
the rest; be my banker if I live, and my executor if I die; but take
care to give something to the Highland cailliachs [Old women, on whom
devolved the duty of lamenting for the dead, which the Irish call
KEENING.] that shall cry the coronach loudest for the last Vich Ian
Vohr.'
'It is the TESTAMENTUM MILITARE,' quoth the Baron, 'whilk, amang the
Romans, was privilegiate to be nuncupative.' But the soft heart of Mrs.
Flockhart was melted within her at the Chieftain's speech; she set up
a lamentable blubbering, and positively refused to touch the bequest,
which Fergus was therefore obliged to resume.
'Well, then,' said the Chief, 'if I fall, it will go to the grenadier
that knocks my brains out, and I shall take care he works hard for it.'
Bailie Macwheeble was again tempted to put in his oar; for where cash
was concerned, he did not willingly remain silent. 'Perhaps he had
better carry the gowd to Miss Mac-Ivor, in case of mortality, or
accidents of war. It might tak the form of a MORTIS CAUSA donation in
the young leddie's favour, and wad cost but the scrape of a pen to mak
it out.'
'The young lady,' said Fergus, 'should such an event happen, will have
other matters to think of than these wretched louis d'or.'
'True--undeniable--there 's nae doubt o' that; but your honour kens that
a full sorrow'--
'Is endurable by most folk more easily than a hungry one?--True, Bailie,
very true; and I believe there may even be some who would be consoled
by such a reflection for the loss of the whole existing generation.
But there is a sorrow which knows neither hunger nor thirst; and poor
Flora'--He paused, and the whole company sympathized in his emotion.
The Baron's thoughts naturally reverted to the unprotected state of
his daughter, and the big tear came to the veteran's eye. 'If I fall,
Macwheeble; you have all my papers, and know all my affairs; be just to
Rose.'
The Bailie was a man of earthly mould, after all; a good deal of dirt
and dress about him, undoubtedly, but some kindly and just feelings he
had, especially where the Baron or his young mistress were concerned. He
set up a lamentable howl. 'If that doleful day should come, while Duncan
Macwheeble had a boddle, it should be Miss Rose's. He wald scroll for
a plack the sheet, or she kenn'd what it was to want; if indeed
a' the bonnie baronie o' Bradwardine and Tully-Veolan, with the
fortalice and manor-place thereof (he kept sobbing and whining
at every pause), tofts, crofts, mosses, muirs--outfield,
infield--buildings--orchards--dovecots--with the right of net and
coble in the water and loch of Veolan--teinds, parsonage and
vicarage--annexis, connexis--rights of pasturage--fuel, feal, and
divot--parts, pendicles, and pertinents whatsoever--(here he had
recourse to the end of his long cravat to wipe his eyes, which
overflowed in spite of him, at the ideas which this technical jargon
conjured up)--all as more fully described in the proper evidents and
titles thereof--and lying within the parish of Bradwardine, and the
shire of Perth--if, as aforesaid, they must a' pass from my master's
child to Inch-Grabbit, wha's a Whig and a Hanoverian, and be managed
by his doer, Jamie Howie, wha's no fit to be a birlieman, let be a
bailie'--
The beginning of this lamentation really had something affecting, but
the conclusion rendered laughter irresistible. 'Never mind, Bailie,'
said Ensign Maccombich, 'for the gude auld times of rugging and riving
(pulling and tearing) are come back again, an' Sneckus Mac-Snacbus
(meaning, probably, annexis, connexis), and a' the rest of your friends,
maun gie place to the langest claymore.'
'And that claymore shall be ours, Bailie,' said the Chieftain, who saw
that Macwheeble looked very blank at this intimation.
We'll give them the metal our mountain affords,
Lillibulero, bullen a la,
And in place of broad-pieces we'll pay with broadswords,
Lero, lero, &c.
With duns and with debts we will soon clear our score,
Lillibulero, &c.
For the man that's thus paid will crave payment no more,
Lero, Lero, &c.
[These lines, or something like them, occur in an old magazine
of the period.]
'But come, Bailie, be not cast down; drink your wine with a joyous
heart; the Baron shall return safe and victorious to Tully-Veolan,
and unite Killancureit's lairdship with his own, since the cowardly
half-bred swine will not turn out for the Prince like a gentleman.'
'To be sure, they lie maist ewest,' [i.e. contiguous] said the Bairie,
wiping his eyes, 'and should naturally fa' under the same factory.'
'And I,' proceeded the Chieftain, 'shall take care of myself, too; 'for
you must know, I have to complete a good work here, by bringing Mrs.
Flockhart into the bosom of the Catholic church, or at least half way,
and that is to your Episcopal meeting-house. Oh, Baron! if you heard her
fine counter-tenor admonishing Kate and Matty in the morning, you, who
understand music, would tremble at the idea of hearing her shriek in the
psalmody of Haddo's Hole.'
'Lord forgie you, colonel, how ye rin on! But I hope your honours will
tak tea before ye gang to the palace, and I maun gang and mask it for
you.'
So saying, Mrs. Flockhart left the gentlemen to their own conversation,
which, as might be supposed, turned chiefly upon the approaching events
of the campaign.