by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XI
THE BANQUET
The entertainment was ample, and handsome, according to the Scotch ideasof the period, and the guests did great honour to it. The Baron ate likea famished soldier, the Laird of Balmawhapple like a sportsman, Bullseggof Killancureit like a farmer, Waverley himself like a traveller, andBailie Macwheeble like all four together; though, either out of morerespect, or in order to preserve that proper declination of person whichshowed a sense that he was in the presence of his patron, he sat uponthe edge of his chair, placed at three feet distance from the table, andachieved a communication with his plate by projecting his person towardsit in a line, which obliqued from the bottom of his spine, so that theperson who sat opposite to him could only see the foretop of his ridingperiwig.
This stooping position might have been inconvenient to another person;but long habit made it, whether seated or walking, perfectly easy tothe worthy Bailie. In the latter posture, it occasioned, no doubt, anunseemly projection of the person towards those who happened to walkbehind; but those being at all times his inferiors (for Mr. Macwheeblewas very scrupulous in giving place to all others), he cared very littlewhat inference of contempt or slight regard they might derive from thecircumstance. Hence, when he waddled across the court to and from hisold grey pony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking upon its hindlegs.
The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive and interesting old man, with muchthe air of a sufferer for conscience' sake. He was one of those,
Who, undeprived, their benefice forsook.
For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the Bailie usedsometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, upbraiding him with the nicety ofhis scruples. Indeed it must be owned, that he himself, though at hearta keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept pretty fair with allthe different turns of state in his time; so that Davie Gellatley oncedescribed him as a particularly good man, who had a very quiet andpeaceful conscience, THAT NEVER DID HIM ANY HARM.
When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced the health of theKing, politely leaving to the consciences of his guests to drink tothe sovereign DE FACTO or DE JURE, as their politics inclined.The conversation now became general; and, shortly afterwards, MissBradwardine, who had done the honours with natural grace and simplicity,retired, and was soon followed by the clergyman. Among the rest of theparty, the wine, which fully justified the encomiums of the landlord,flowed freely round, although Waverley, with some difficulty, obtainedthe privilege of sometimes neglecting the glass. At length, as theevening grew more late, the Baron made a private signal to Mr. SaundersSaunderson, or, as he facetiously denominated him, ALEXANDER ABALEXANDRO, who left the room with a nod, and soon after returned, hisgrave countenance mantling with a solemn and mysterious smile, andplaced before his master a small oaken casket, mounted with brassornaments of curious form. The Baron, drawing out a private key,unlocked the casket, raised the lid, and produced a golden goblet ofa singular and antique appearance, moulded into the shape of a rampantbear, which the owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, pride,and delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverley of Ben Jonson's TomOtter, with his Bull, Horse, and Dog, as that wag wittily denominatedhis chief carousing cups. But Mr. Bradwardine, fuming towards him withcomplacency, requested him to observe this curious relic of the oldentime.
'It represents,' he said, 'the chosen crest of our family, a bear, as yeobserve, and rampant; because a good herald will depict every animal inits noblest posture; as a horse SALIENT, a greyhound CURRANT, and, asmay be inferred, a ravenous animal IN ACTU FEROCIORI, or in a voracious,lacerating, and devouring posture. Now, sir, we hold this mosthonourable achievement by the wappen-brief, or concession of arms,of Frederick Redbeard, Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, GodmundBradwardine, it being the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom he slew inthe lists in the Holy Land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of theEmperor's spouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely which, andthus, as Virgilius hath it--
Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis Aptemus.
Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought by the command of St.Duthac, Abbot of Aberbrothock, for behoof of another baron of thehouse of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended the patrimony of thatmonastery against certain encroaching nobles. It is properly termed theBlessed Bear of Bradwardine (though old Dr. Doubleit used jocosely tocall it Ursa Major), and was supposed, in old and Catholic times, to beinvested with certain properties of a mystical and supernatural quality.And though I give not in to such ANILIA, it is certain it has alwaysbeen esteemed a solemn standard cup and heirloom of our house; nor is itever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I hold to be thearrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof; and I devotethis draught to the health and prosperity of the ancient andhighly-to-be-honoured house of Waverley.'
During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a cobwebbed bottle ofclaret into the goblet, which held nearly an English pint; and, at theconclusion, delivering the bottle to the butler, to be held carefully inthe same angle with the horizon, he devoutly quaffed off the contents ofthe Blessed Bear of Bradwardine.
Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal making his rounds,and thought with great anxiety upon the appropriate motto, 'Beware theBear;' but at the same time plainly foresaw, that as none of the guestsscrupled to do him this extraordinary honour, a refusal on-his partto pledge their courtesy would be extremely ill received. Resolving,therefore, to submit to this last piece of tyranny, and then to quit thetable, if possible, and confiding in the strength of his constitution,he did justice to the company in the contents of the Blessed Bear, andfelt less inconvenience from the draught than he could possibly haveexpected. The others, whose time had been more actively employed, beganto show symptoms of innovation,--'the good wine did its good office.'[Southey's MADOC.] The frost of etiquette, and pride of birth, began togive way before the genial blessings of this benign constellation, andthe formal appellatives with which the three dignitaries had hithertoaddressed each other, were now familiarly abbreviated into Tully,Bally, and Killie. When a few rounds had passed, the two latter, afterwhispering together, craved permission (a joyful hearing for Edward) toask the grace-cup. This, after some delay, was at length produced, andWaverley concluded that the orgies of Bacchus were terminated for theevening. He was never more mistaken in his life.
As the guests had left their horses at the small inn, or CHANGE-HOUSE,as it was called, of the village, the Baron could not, in politeness,avoid walking with them up the avenue, and Waverley, from the samemotive, and to enjoy, after this feverish revel, the cool summerevening, attended the party. But when they arrived at Luckie Macleary's,the Lairds of Balmawhapple and Killancureit declared their determinationto acknowledge their sense of the hospitality of Tully-Veolan, bypartaking with their entertainer and his guest Captain Waverley, whatthey technically called DEOCH AN DORUIS, a stirrup-cup, to the honour ofthe Baron's roof-tree. [8]
It must be noticed, that the Bailie, knowing by experience that theday's joviality, which had been hitherto sustained at the expense of hispatron, might terminate partly at his own, had mounted his spavined greypony, and, between gaiety of heart, and alarm for being hooked into areckoning, spurred him into a hobbling canter (a trot was out of thequestion), and had already cleared the village. The others entered thechange-house, leading Edward in unresisting submission; for his landlordwhispered him, that to demur to such an overture would be construed intoa high misdemeanour against the LEGES CONVIVIALES, or regulations ofgenial compotation. Widow Macleary seemed to have expected this visit,as well she might, for it was the usual consummation of merry bouts, notonly at Tully-Veolan, but at most other gentlemen's houses in Scotland,Sixty Years since. The guests thereby at once acquitted themselves oftheir burden of gratitude for their entertainer's kindness, encouragedthe trade of his change-house, did honour to the place which affordedharbour to their horses, and indemnified themselves for the previousrestraints imposed by private hospitality,
by spending, what Falstaffcalls the sweet of the night, in the genial license of a tavern.
Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests, LuckieMacleary had swept her house for the first time this fortnight, temperedher turf-fire to such a heat as the season required in her damp hoveleven at Midsummer, set forth her deal table newly washed, propped itslame foot with a fragment of turf, arranged four or five stools of hugeand clumsy form, upon the sites which best suited the inequalities ofher clay floor; and having, moreover, put on her clean toy, rokelay, andscarlet plaid, gravely awaited the arrival of the company, in full hopeof custom and profit. When they were seated under the sooty rafters ofLuckie Macleary's only apartment, thickly tapestried with cobwebs, theirhostess, who had already taken her cue from the Laird of Balmawhapple,appeared with a huge pewter measuring-pot, containing at least threeEnglish quarts, familiarly denominated a TAPPIT HEN, and which, in thelanguage of the hostess, reamed (i.e. mantled) with excellent claret,just drawn from the cask.
It was soon plain that what crumbs of reason the Bear had not devoured,were to be picked up by the Hen; but the confusion which appeared toprevail favoured Edward's resolution to evade the gaily circling glass.The others began to talk thick and at once, each performing his own partin the conversation, without the least respect to hist neighbour. TheBaron of Bradwardine sang French CHANSONS-A-BOIRE, and spouted piecesof Latin; Killancureit talked, in a steady unalterable dull key,of top-dressing and bottom-dressing, [This has been censured as ananachronism; and it must be confessed that agriculture of this kind wasunknown to the Scotch Sixty Years since.] and year-olds, and gimmers,and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, and kyloes, and a proposedturnpike-act; while Balmawhapple, in notes exalted above both, extolledhis horse, his hawks, and a greyhound called Whistler. In the middle ofthis din, the Baron repeatedly implored silence; and when at length theinstinct of polite discipline so far prevailed, that for a moment heobtained it, he hastened to beseech their attention 'unto a militaryariette, which was a particular favourite of the Marechal Duc deBerwick;' then, imitating, as well as he could, the manner and tone of aFrench mousquetaire, he immediately commenced,--
Mon coeur volage, dit-elle, N'est pas pour vous, garcon; Est pour un homme de guerre, Qui a barbe au menton. Lon, Lon, Laridon.
Qui ports chapeau a plume, Soulier a rouge talon, Qui joue de la flute, Aussi du violon. Lon, Lon, Laridon.
Balmawhapple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called ad--d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, the piper of Cupar;and, without wasting more time, struck up,--
It's up Glenbarchan's braes I gaed, And o'er the bent of Killiebraid, And mony a weary cast I made, To cuittle the muirfowl's tail.
[SUUM CUIQUE. This snatch of a ballad was composed by Andrew MacDonald,the ingenious and unfortunate author of VIMONDA.]
The Baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder and more obstreperousstrains of Balmawhapple, now dropped the competition, but continued tohum, Lon, Lon, Laridon, and to regard the successful candidate for theattention of the company, with an eye of disdain, while Balmawhappleproceeded,--
If up a bonny black-cock should spring, To whistle him down wi' a slug in his wing, And strap him on to my lunzie string, Right seldom would I fail.
After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sang thefirst over again; and, in prosecution of his triumph, declared there was'more sense in that than in all the DERRY-DONGS of France, and Fifeshireto the boot of it.' The Baron only answered with a long pinch of snuff,and a glance of infinite contempt. But those noble allies, the Bear andthe Hen, had emancipated the young laird from the habitual reverencein which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pronounced the claretSHILPIT, and demanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought;and now the Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arising fromthis Dutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note in thestrange compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her, the Lairdof Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and winks with which the Baronof Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hitherto checked his enteringupon political discussion, demanded a bumper, with the lungs of aStentor, 'to the little gentleman in black velvet who did such servicein 1702, and may the white horse break his neck over a mound of hismaking!'
Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember that KingWilliam's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to be owing to hishorse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined to take umbrage at atoast, which seemed, from the glance of Balmawhapple's eye, to have apeculiar and uncivil reference to the Government which he served.But, ere he could interfere, the Baron of Bradwardine had taken up thequarrel. 'Sir,' he said, 'whatever my sentiments, TANQUAM PRIVATUS, maybe in such matters, I shall not tamely endure your saying anything thatmay impinge upon the honourable feelings of a gentleman under my roof.Sir, if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not respectthe military oath, the SACRAMENTUM MILITARE, by which every officer isbound to the standards under which he is enrolled? Look at Titus Livius,what he says of those Roman soldiers who were so unhappy as EXUERESACRAMENTUM,--to renounce their legionary oath; but you are ignorant,sir, alike of ancient history and modern courtesy.'
'Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me,' roared Balmawhapple. 'I kenweel that you mean the Solemn League and Covenant; but if a' the Whigsin hell had taken the--'
Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, the former calling out,'Be silent, sir! ye not only show your ignorance, but disgrace yournative country before a stranger and an Englishman;' and Waverley, atthe same moment, entreating Mr. Bradwardine to permit him to reply toan affront which seemed levelled at him personally. But the Baron wasexalted by wine, wrath, and scorn, above all sublunary considerations.
'I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley; you are elsewhere,peradventure, SUI JURIS,--foris-familiated, that is, and entitled, itmay be, to think and resent for yourself; but in my domain, in this poorBarony of Bradwardine, and under this roof, which is QUASI mine, beingheld by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I am IN LOCO PARENTISto you, and bound to see you scathless.--And for you, Mr. Falconer ofBalmawhapple, I warn ye, let me see no more aberrations from the pathsof good manners.'
'And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, of Bradwardine andTully-Veolan,' retorted the sportsman, in huge disdain, 'that I'll makea moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether it be a crop-earedEnglish Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug, or ane wha deserts his ainfriends to claw favour wi' the rats of Hanover.'
In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate passesexchanged. Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active; but the Baron,infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like Sir Toby Belch, havetickled his opponent other gates than he did, had he not been under theinfluence of Ursa Major.
Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but theprostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which he stumbled,intercepted his passage. How Killancureit happened to be in thisrecumbent posture at so interesting a moment, was never accuratelyknown. Some thought he was about to ensconce himself under the table; hehimself alleged that he stumbled in the act of lifting a joint-stool, toprevent mischief, by knocking down Balmawhapple. Be that as it may,if readier aid than either his or Waverley's had not interposed, therewould certainly have been bloodshed. But the well-known clash of swords,which was no stranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie Macleary as shesat quietly beyond the hallan, or earthen partition of the cottage, witheyes employed on Boston's CROOK OF THE LOT, while her ideas were engagedin summing up the reckoning. She boldly rushed in, with the shrillexpostulation, 'Wad their honours slay ane another there, and bringdiscredit on an honest widow-woman's house, when there was a' thelee-land in the country to fight upon?' a remonstrance which sheseconded by flinging her plaid with great dexterity over the weapons ofthe combatants. The servants by this time rushed in, and being, by greatchan
ce, tolerably sober, separated the incensed opponents, with theassistance of Edward and Killancureit. The latter led off Balmawhapple,cursing, swearing, and vowing revenge against every Whig, Presbyterian,and fanatic in England and Scotland, from John-o'-Groat's to the Land'sEnd, and with difficulty got him to horse. Our hero, with the assistanceof Saunders Saunderson, escorted the Baron of Bradwardine to his owndwelling, but could not prevail upon him to retire to bed until he hadmade a long and learned apology for the events of the evening, of which,however, there was not a word intelligible, except something about theCentaurs and the Lapithae.