CHARLES EDWARD STUART
A beautifully engrossed invitation to the Prince's ball having duly
arrived from his Secretary the Chevalier O'Sullivan, I ask you to believe
that my toilet Tuesday evening was even more a work of art than that of
Sunday. In huge disorder scarfs, lace cravats, muffs, and other necessary
equipment were littered about the room. I much missed the neat touch of my
valet Simpkins, and the gillie Hamish Gorm, whom Major Macleod had put at
my service, did not supply his place by a deal, since he knew no more of
patching the face or powdering a periwig than he had arrived at by the
light of nature. But despite this handicap I made shift to do myself
justice before I set off for the lodgings of Lord Balmerino, by whom I was
to be presented.
'Twas long since the Scottish capital had been so gay as now, for a part
of the policy of the Young Chevalier was to wear a brave front before the
world. He and his few thousand Highlanders were pledged to a desperate
undertaking, but it was essential that the waverers must not be allowed to
suspect how slender were the chances of success. One might have thought
from the splendour of his court and from the serene confidence exhibited
by the Prince and his chiefs that the Stuarts were already in peaceable
possession of the entire dominions of their ancestors. A vast concourse of
well-dressed people thronged to Holyrood House from morning till night to
present their respects to Prince Charles Edward. His politeness and
affability, as well as the charms of his conversation and the graces of
his person, swept the ladies especially from their lukewarm allegiance to
the Hanoverians. They would own no lover who did not don the white cockade
of Jacobitism. They would hesitate at no sacrifice to advance the cause of
this romantic young gambler who used swords for dice. All this my three
days residence in the city had taught me. I was now to learn whether a
personal meeting with him would inspire me too with the ardent devotion
that animated my friends.
A mixed assembly we found gathered in the picture gallery of Holyrood
House. Here were French and Irish adventurers, Highland chiefs and Lowland
gentlemen, all emulating each other in loyalty to the ladies who had
gathered from all over Scotland to dance beneath the banner of the white
rose. The Hall was a great blaze of moving colour, but above the tartans
and the plaids, the mixed reds, greens, blues, and yellows, everywhere
fluttered rampant the white streamers and cockades of the Stuarts.
No doubt there were here sober hearts, full of anxious portent for the
future, but on the surface at least was naught but merriment. The gayest
abandon prevailed. Strathspey and reel and Highland fling alternated with
the graceful dances of France and the rollicking jigs of Ireland. Plainly
this was no state ceremonial, rather an international frolic to tune all
hearts to a common glee. We were on the top of fortune's wave. Had we not
won for the Young Chevalier by the sword the ancient capital of his
family, and did not the road to London invite us southward? The pipers of
each clan in turn dirled out triumphant marches, and my heart began to
beat in faster time. Water must have filled the veins of a man who could
stand unmoved such contagious enthusiasm. For me, I confess it, a climax
came a moment later that made my eyes swim.
Balmerino was talking with Malcolm Macleod and James Hepburn of Keith, a
model of manly simplicity and honour who had been "out" in the '15; and as
usual their talk fell on our enterprise and its gallant young leader.
Keith narrated a story of how the Young Chevalier, after a long day's
march on foot, had led the army three miles out of its way in order to
avoid disturbing the wife of a cottar who had fallen asleep at the
critical stage of a severe illness. Balmerino capped it with another
anecdote of his dismounting from his horse after the battle of Gladsmuir
to give water and attendance to a wounded English soldier of Cope's army.
Macleod smiled, eyes sparkling. "He iss every inch the true prince. He can
tramp the hills with a Highlander all day and never weary, he can sleep on
pease-straw as well as on a bed of down, can sup on brose in five minutes,
and win a battle in four. Oh, yes, he will be the King for Malcolm
Macleod."
While he was still speaking there fell over the assembly a sudden
stillness. The word was passed from lips to lips, "The Prince comes."
Every eye swept to the doorway. Men bowed deep and women curtsied low. A
young man was entering slowly on the arm of Lord George Murray.
"The Prince!" whispered Balmerino to me.
The pipes crashed out a measure of "Wha'll be King but Charlie?" then fell
into quiet sudden as they had begun. "Dhia theasirg an Righ!" (God save
the King) cried a splendid young Highland chief in a voice that echoed
through the hall.
Clanranald's cry was lifted to the rafters by a hundred throats. A hundred
claymores leaped to air, and while the skirling bagpipes pealed forth,
"The King shall enjoy his own again," Charles Stuart beneath an arch of
shining steel trod slowly down the hall to a dais where his fathers had
sat before him.
If the hearts of the ladies had surrendered at discretion, faith! we of
the other sex were not much tardier. The lad was every inch a prince. His
after life did not fulfil the promise of his youth, but at this time he
was one to see, and once having seen, to love. All the great charm of his
race found expression in him. Gallant, gracious, generous, tender-hearted
in victory and cheerful in defeat (as we had soon to learn, alas!), even
his enemies confessed this young Stuart a worthy leader of men. Usually
suffused with a gentle pensiveness not unbecoming, the ardour of his
welcome had given him on this occasion the martial bearing of a heroic
young Achilles. With flushed cheek and sparkling eye he ascended the
dais.
"Ladies, gentlemen, my loyal Highlanders, friends all, the tongue of
Charles Stuart has no words to tell the warm message of his heart.
Unfriended and alone he came among you, resolved with the help of good
swords to win back that throne on which a usurper sits, or failing in that
to perish in the attempt. How nobly you our people have rallied to our
side in this undertaking to restore the ancient liberties of the kingdom
needs not be told. To the arbitrament of battle and to the will of God we
confidently appeal, and on our part we pledge our sacred honour neither to
falter nor to withdraw till this our purpose is accomplished. To this
great task we stand plighted, so help us God and the right."
'Tis impossible to conceive the effect of these few simple sentences.
Again the pipes voiced our dumb emotion in that stirring song,
"We'll owre the water and owre the sea,
We'll owre the water to Charlie;
Come weal, come woe, we'll gather and go,
And live and die wi' Charlie."
The mighty cheer broke forth again and seemed to rock the palace, but
deeper than all cheering was the feeling that found expression in
long-drawn breath and broken sob and glimmering tear. The gallant lad had
trusted us, had put his life in our keeping; we highly resolved to prove
worthy of that trust.
At a signal from the Prince the musicians struck up again the dance, and
bright eyes bedimmed with tears began to smile once more. With a whispered
word Balmerino left me and made his way to the side of the Prince, about
whom were grouped the Duke of Perth, Lord Lewis Gordon, Lord Elcho, the
ill-fated Kilmarnock, as well as Lochiel, Cluny, Macleod, Clanranald, and
other Highland gentlemen who had taken their fortune in their hands at the
call of this young adventurer with the enchanting smile. To see him was to
understand the madness of devotion that had carried away these wise
gray-haired gentlemen, but to those who never saw him I despair of
conveying in cold type the subtle quality of charm that radiated from him.
In the very bloom of youth, tall, slender, and handsome, he had a grace of
manner not to be resisted. To condescend to the particulars of his person:
a face of perfect oval very regular in feature; large light blue eyes
shaded by beautifully arched brows; nose good and of the Roman type;
complexion fair, mouth something small and effeminate, forehead high and
full. He was possessed of the inimitable reserve and bearing that mark the
royal-born, and that despite his genial frankness. On this occasion he
wore his usual light-coloured peruke with the natural hair combed over the
front, a tartan short coat on the breast of which shone the star of the
order of St. Andrews, red velvet small-clothes, and a silver-hilted
rapier. The plaid he ordinarily carried had been doffed for a blue sash
wrought with gold.
All this I had time to note before Lord Balmerino rejoined me and led me
forward to the presentation. The Prince separated himself from the group
about him and came lightly down the steps to meet me. I fell on my knee
and kissed his hand, but the Prince, drawing me to my feet, embraced me.
"My gallant Montagu," he cried warmly. "Like father, like son. God knows I
welcome you, both on your own account and because you are one of the first
English gentlemen to offer his sword to the cause of his King."
I murmured that my sword would be at his service till death. To put me at
my ease he began to question me about the state of public feeling in
England concerning the enterprise. What information I had was put at his
disposal, and I observed that his grasp of the situation appeared to be
clear and incisive. He introduced me to the noblemen and chiefs about him,
and I was wise enough to know that if they made much of me it was rather
for the class I was supposed to represent than for my own poor merits.
Presently I fell back to make way for another gentleman about to be
presented. Captain Macdonald made his way to me and offered a frank hand
in congratulation.
"'Fore God, Montagu, you have leaped gey sudden into favour. Deil hae't,
Red Donald brought with him a hundred claymores and he wasna half so
kenspeckle (conspicuous). I'll wad your fortune's made, for you hae leaped
in heels ower hurdies," he told me warmly.
From affairs of state to those of the heart may be a long cast, but the
mind of one-and-twenty takes it at a bound. My eye went questing, fell on
many a blushing maid and beaming matron, at last singled out my heart's
desire. She was teaching a Highland dance to a graceful cavalier in white
silk breeches, flowered satin waistcoat, and most choicely powdered
periwig, fresh from the friseur. His dainty muff and exquisite clouded
cane depended from a silken loop to proclaim him the man of fashion.
Something characteristic in his easy manner, though I saw but his back,
chilled me to an indefinable premonition of his identity. Yet an instant,
and a turn in the dance figure flung into view the face of Sir Robert
Volney, negligent and unperturbed, heedless apparently of the fact that
any moment a hand might fall on his shoulder to lead him to his death.
Aileen, to the contrary, clearly showed fear, anxiety, a troubled mind--to
be detected in the hurried little glances of fearfulness directed toward
her brother Malcolm, and in her plain eagerness to have done with the
measure. She seemed to implore the baronet to depart, and Volney smilingly
negatived her appeal. The girl's affronted eyes dared him to believe that
she danced with him for any other reason than because he had staked his
life to see her again and she would not have his death at her door.
Disdain of her own weakness and contempt of him were eloquent in every
movement of the lissom figure. 'Twas easy to be seen that the man was
working on her fears for him, in order to obtain another foothold with
her. I resolved to baulk his scheme.
While I was still making my way toward them through the throng they
disappeared from the assembly hall. A still hunt of five minutes, and I
had run down my prey in a snug little reception-room of a size to fit two
comfortably. The girl fronted him scornfully, eyes flaming.
"Coward, you play on a girl's fears, you take advantage of her soft heart
to force yourself on her," she was telling him in a low, bitter voice.
"I risk my life to see the woman that I love," he answered.
"My grief! Love! What will such a thing as you be knowing of love?"
The man winced. On my soul I believe that at last he was an honest lover.
His beautiful, speaking eyes looked straight into hers. His mannerisms had
for the moment been sponged out. Straight from the heart he spoke.
"I have learnt, Aileen. My hunger for a sight of you has starved my folly
and fed my love. Believe me, I am a changed man."
The play and curve of her lips stung him. He flung himself desperately
into his mad love-making. "'Belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux me font mourir
d'amour,'" he quoted from Moliere. "'Tis true, Aileen; I die of love; it
burns me up," he added passionately, hungry eyes devouring the flying
colours of her cheek, the mass of rippling hair, the fresh, sweet, subtle
fragrance of her presence.
"You'll have to hurry about it then, for on my soul you're due to die of
tightened hemp to-morrow," I told him, lounging forward from the door.
The girl cried out, eyes dilating, hand pressing to the heart. For the
man, after the first start he did not turn a hair. The face that looked
over his shoulder at me was unmoved and bereft of emotion.
"My malapropos friend Montagu again. Devil take it, you have an awkward
way of playing harlequin when you're not wanted! Now to come blundering in
upon a lady and her friend is-- Well, not the best of form. Better drop it
before it becomes a habit," he advised.
"'Slife, 'tis tit for tat! I learnt it from you," was my answer.
Long we looked at each other, preparing for the battle that was to come.
Save for the quick breathing of the girl no sound fell.
"Sir Robert, your audacity confounds all precedent," I said at last.
"You flatter me, Mr. Montagu."
"Believe me, had Major Macleod discovered you instead of me your soul had
by this time been speeding hellward."
"Exit Flattery," he laughed. "The lady phrased it less vilely. Heavenward,
she put it! 'Twould be interesting to know which of you is right."
"As you say, an interesting topic of speculation, and one you're like to
find the answer of shortly, presupposing that you suffer the usual fate of
captured spies."
His brows lifted in polite inquiry. "Indeed! A spy?" he asked,
indifferently.
"Why not? The favourite of the Hanoverian usurpers discovered in our
midst--what other explanation will it bear?"
He smiled. "Perhaps I have a mind to join your barelegged rebellion."
"Afraid your services are not available, Sir Robert. Three hundred Macleod
claymores bar the way, all eager to wipe out an insult to the daughter of
Raasay. Faith, when they have settled their little account against you
there won't be much left for the Prince."
"Ah! Then for the sake of argument suppose we put it that I'm visiting
this delightful city for my health."
"You will find the climate not agree with you, I fear."
"Then say for pleasure."
"'Twill prove more exciting than amusing."
"On my life, dear Kenn, 'tis both."
"I have but to raise my voice and you are undone."
"His voice was ever soft, gentle, and low, an excellent thing in Kenneth,"
he parodied, laughing at me.
The girl said never a word, but her level eyes watched me steadily. No
need of words to tell me that I was on trial! But I would not desist.
"You appear not to realize the situation," I told him coldly. "Your life
is in hazard."
The man yawned in my face. "Not at all, I sit here as safe as if I were at
White's, and a devilish deal better satisfied. Situation piquant! Company
of the best! Gad's life, I cry content."
"I think we talk at cross purposes. I am trying to have you understand
that your position is critical, Sir Robert."
Nonchalant yet watchful, indolent and yet alert, gracefully graceless, he
watched me smilingly out of half-closed eyes; and then quietly fired the
shot that brought me to.
"If you were not a gentleman, Montagu, the situation would be vastly
different."
"I do not see the point," I told him; but I did, and raged at it.
"I think you do. Your lips are sealed. I am your rival"--he bowed to
Aileen--"for the favour of a lady. If you put me out of the way by playing
informer what appearance will it bear? You may talk of duty till the world
ends, but you will be a marked man, despised by all--and most of all by
Kenneth Montagu."
The man was right. At one sweep he had spiked my guns, demolished my
defenses. The triumph was sponged from my face. I fumed in a stress of
impotence.
"I don't know about that. I shall have to think of it. There is a duty to
perform," I said at last, lamely.
He waved a hand airily. "My dear fellow, think as long as you please. You
can't think away facts. Egad, they're immutable. You know me to be no spy.
Conceded that I am in a false position. What can you do about it? You
can't in honour give me up. I'faith, you're handcuffed to inaction."
I was, but my temper was not improved at hearing him tell it me so suavely
and so blandly. He sat smiling and triumphant, chuckling no doubt at the
dilemma into which he had thrust me. The worst of it was that while I was
ostensibly master of the situation he had me at his mercy. I was a
helpless victor without any of the fruits of victory.
"You took advantage of a girl's soft heart to put her in a position that
was indefensible," I told him with bitter bluntness. "Save this of
throwing yourself on her mercy there was no other way of approaching her.
Of the wisdom of the serpent you have no lack. I congratulate you, Sir
Robert. But one may be permitted to doubt the manliness of such a
course."
The pipers struck up a song that was the vogue among our party, and a
young man passed the entrance of the room singing it.
"Oh, it's owre the border awa', awa',
It's owre the border awa', awa',
We'll on an' we'll march to Carlisle Ha',
Wi' its yetts, its castles, an' a', an' a'."
The audacious villain parodied it on the spot, substituting two lines of
his own for the last ones.
"You'll on an' you'll march to Carlisle Ha',
To be hanged and quartered an' a', an' a',"
he hummed softly in his clipped English tongue.
"Pity you won't live to see it," I retorted tartly.
"You're still nursing that maggot, are you? Debating with yourself about
giving me up, eh? Well that's a matter you must settle with your
conscience, if you indulge in the luxury of one."
"You would never give him up, Kenneth," said Aileen in a low voice.
"Surely you would not be doing that."
"I shall not let him stay here. You may be sure of that," I said
doggedly.
The girl ventured a suggestion timidly. "Perhaps Sir Robert will be
leaving to-morrow--for London mayhap."
Volney shook his head decisively. "Not I. Why, I have but just arrived.
Besides, here is a problem in ethics for Mr. Montagu to solve. Strength
comes through conflict, so the schools teach. Far be it from me to remove
the cause of doubt. Let him solve his problem for himself, egad!"
He seemed to find a feline pleasure in seeing how far he could taunt me to
go. He held me on the knife-edge of irritation, and perillous as was the
experiment he enjoyed seeing whether he could not drive me to give him
up.
"Miss Macleod's solution falls pat. Better leave to-morrow, Sir Robert. To
stay is dangerous."
"'Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; but I tell you, my
lord fool, 'out of this nettle danger, we pluck this flower safety,'" he
quoted.
"I see you always have your tag of Shakespeare ready; then let me remind
you what he has to say about the better part of valour," I flung back, for
once alert in riposte.
"A hit, and from the same play," he laughed. "But a retreat-- 'Tis not to
be thought of. No, no, Montagu! And it must be you'll just have to give me
up."
"Oh, you harp on that! You may say it once too often. I shall find a way
to get rid of you," I answered blackly.
"Let me find it for you, lad," said a voice from the doorway.
We turned, to find that Donald Roy had joined the party. He must have been
standing there unobserved long enough to understand my dilemma, for he
shot straight to the mark.
"Sir Robert, I'll never be denying that you're a bold villain, and that is
the one thing that will be saving your life this night. I'm no' here to
argie-bargie with you. The plain fact is just this; that I dinna care a
rap for you the tane gate or the tither (the one way or the other). I'd
like fine to see you dancing frae the widdie (gallows), but gin the lady
wants you spared I'll no' say her no. Mr. Englisher, you'll just gie me
your word to tak the road for the border this night, or I'll give a bit
call to Major Macleod. I wouldna wonder but he wad be blithe to see you.
Is it to be the road or the Macleod?"
I could have kissed the honest trusty face of the man, for he had lifted
me out of a bog of unease. I might be bound by honour, but Captain
Macdonald was free as air to dictate terms. Volney looked long at him,
weighed the man, and in the end flung up the sponge. He rose to his feet
and sauntered over to Aileen.
"I am desolated to find that urgent business takes me south at once, Miss
Macleod. 'Tis a matter of the gravest calls me; nothing of less importance
than the life of my nearest friend would take me from you. But I'm afraid
it must be 'Au revoir' for the present," he said.
She looked past the man as if he had not existed.
He bowed low, the flattery of deference in his fine eyes, which knew so
well how to be at once both bold and timid.
"Forgiven my madness?" he murmured.
Having nothing to say, she still said it eloquently. Volney bowed himself
out of the room, nodded carelessly to me as he passed, touched Macdonald
on the arm with a pleasant promise to attend the obsequies when the
Highlander should be brought to London for his hanging, lounged elegantly
through the crowded assembly hall, and disappeared into the night.