--A darker departure is near,
The death-drum is muffled, and sable the bier.
CAMPBELL.
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bolts, withdrawn for the purpose of admitting Edward, was answered by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 escape.'
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 satisfaction.
'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 Vohr?'
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 storm!'
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 added,
MORITUR, ET MORIENS DULCES REMINISCITUR ARGOS.'
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.