Waverley; Or 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Complete

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XX

  A HIGHLAND FEAST

  Ere Waverley entered the banqueting hall, he was offered thepatriarchal refreshment of a bath for the feet, which the sultryweather, and the morasses he had traversed, rendered highly acceptable.He was not, indeed, so luxuriously attended upon this occasion as theheroic travellers in the Odyssey; the task of ablution and abstersionbeing performed, not by a beautiful damsel, trained

  To chafe the limb, and pour the fragrant oil,

  but by a smoke-dried skinny old Highland woman, who did not seem tothink herself much honoured by the duty imposed upon her, but mutteredbetween her teeth, 'Our fathers' herds did not feed so near togetherthat I should do you this service.' A small donation, however, amplyreconciled this ancient handmaiden to the supposed degradation; and, asEdward proceeded to the hall, she gave him her blessing in the Gaelicproverb, 'May the open hand be filled the fullest.'

  The hall, in which the feast was prepared, occupied all the first storyof lan nan Chaistel's original erection, and a huge oaken tableextended through its whole length. The apparatus for dinner was simple,even to rudeness, and the company numerous, even to crowding. At thehead of the table was the Chief himself, with Edward, and two or threeHighland visitors of neighbouring clans; the elders of his own tribe,wadsetters and tacksmen, as they were called, who occupied portions ofhis estate as mortgagers or lessees, sat next in rank; beneath them,their sons and nephews and foster-brethren; then the officers of theChief's household, according to their order; and lowest of all, thetenants who actually cultivated the ground. Even beyond this longperspective, Edward might see upon the green, to which a huge pair offolding doors opened, a multitude of Highlanders of a yet inferiordescription, who, nevertheless, were considered as guests, and hadtheir share both of the countenance of the entertainer and of the cheerof the day. In the distance, and fluctuating round this extreme vergeof the banquet, was a changeful group of women, ragged boys and girls,beggars, young and old, large greyhounds, and terriers, and pointers,and curs of low degree; all of whom took some interest, more or lessimmediate, in the main action of the piece.

  This hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its line of economy.Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes of fish, game,etc., which were at the upper end of the table, and immediately underthe eye of the English stranger. Lower down stood immense clumsy jointsof mutton and beef, which, but for the absence of pork, [Footnote: SeeNote 21.] abhorred in the Highlands, resembled the rude festivity ofthe banquet of Penelope's suitors. But the central dish was a yearlinglamb, called 'a hog in har'st,' roasted whole. It was set upon itslegs, with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibitedin that form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself moreon the plenty than the elegance of his master's table. The sides ofthis poor animal were fiercely attacked by the clansmen, some withdirks, others with the knives which were usually in the same sheathwith the dagger, so that it was soon rendered a mangled and ruefulspectacle. Lower down still, the victuals seemed of yet coarserquality, though sufficiently abundant. Broth, onions, cheese, and thefragments of the feast regaled the sons of Ivor who feasted in the openair.

  The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under similarregulations. Excellent claret and champagne were liberally distributedamong the Chief's immediate neighbours; whisky, plain or diluted, andstrong beer refreshed those who sat near the lower end. Nor did thisinequality of distribution appear to give the least offence. Every onepresent understood that his taste was to be formed according to therank which he held at table; and, consequently, the tacksmen and theirdependants always professed the wine was too cold for their stomachs,and called, apparently out of choice, for the liquor which was assignedto them from economy. [Footnote: See Note 22.] The bag-pipers, three innumber, screamed, during the whole time of dinner, a tremendouswar-tune; and the echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtictongue, produced such a Babel of noises that Waverley dreaded his earswould never recover it. Mac-Ivor, indeed, apologised for the confusionoccasioned by so large a party, and pleaded the necessity of hissituation, on which unlimited hospitality was imposed as a paramountduty. 'These stout idle kinsmen of mine,' he said, 'account my estateas held in trust for their support; and I must find them beef and ale,while the rogues will do nothing for themselves but practise thebroadsword, or wander about the hills, shooting, fishing, hunting,drinking, and making love to the lasses of the strath. But what can Ido, Captain Waverley? everything will keep after its kind, whether itbe a hawk or a Highlander.' Edward made the expected answer, in acompliment upon his possessing so many bold and attached followers.

  'Why, yes,' replied the Chief, 'were I disposed, like my father, to putmyself in the way of getting one blow on the head, or two on the neck,I believe the loons would stand by me. But who thinks of that in thepresent day, when the maxim is, "Better an old woman with a purse inher hand than three men with belted brands"?' Then, turning to thecompany, he proposed the 'Health of Captain Waverley, a worthy friendof his kind neighbour and ally, the Baron of Bradwardine.'

  'He is welcome hither,' said one of the elders, 'if he come from CosmoComyne Bradwardine.'

  'I say nay to that,' said an old man, who apparently did not mean topledge the toast; 'I say nay to that. While there is a green leaf inthe forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne.

  'There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine,' answeredanother ancient; 'and the guest that comes hither from him should bewelcome, though he came with blood on his hand, unless it were blood ofthe race of Ivor.'

  The old man whose cup remained full replied, 'There has been bloodenough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine.'

  'Ah! Ballenkeiroch,' replied the first, 'you think rather of the flashof the carbine at the mains of Tully-Veolan than the glance of thesword that fought for the cause at Preston.'

  'And well I may,' answered Ballenkeiroch; 'the flash of the gun cost mea fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has done but little forKing James.'

  The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley that theBaron had shot this old man's son in a fray near Tully-Veolan, aboutseven years before; and then hastened to remove Ballenkeiroch'sprejudice, by informing him that Waverley was an Englishman,unconnected by birth or alliance with the family of Bradwardine; uponwhich the old gentleman raised the hitherto-untasted cup andcourteously drank to his health. This ceremony being requited in kind,the Chieftain made a signal for the pipes to cease, and said aloud,'Where is the song hidden, my friends, that Mac-Murrough cannot findit?'

  Mac-Murrough, the family bhairdh, an aged man, immediately took thehint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, a profusion ofCeltic verses, which were received by the audience with all theapplause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in his declamation, his ardourseemed to increase. He had at first spoken with his eyes fixed on theground; he now cast them around as if beseeching, and anon as ifcommanding, attention, and his tones rose into wild and impassionednotes, accompanied with appropriate gestures. He seemed to Edward, whoattended to him with much interest, to recite many proper names, tolament the dead, to apostrophise the absent, to exhort, and entreat,and animate those who were present. Waverley thought he even discernedhis own name, and was convinced his conjecture was right from the eyesof the company being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously.The ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to the audience.Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercer and moreanimated expression; all bent forward towards the reciter, many sprungup and waved their arms in ecstasy, and some laid their hands on theirswords. When the song ceased, there was a deep pause, while the arousedfeelings of the poet and of the hearers gradually subsided into theirusual channel.

  The Chieftain, who, during this scene had appeared rather to watch theemotions which were excited than to partake their high tone ofenthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood by him.'Give this,' he said to an attendant, 'to Mac-Murrou
gh nan Fonn (i.e.of the songs), and when he has drank the juice, bid him keep, for thesake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd which contained it.' Thegift was received by Mac-Murrough with profound gratitude; he drank thewine, and, kissing the cup, shrouded it with reverence in the plaidwhich was folded on his bosom. He then burst forth into what Edwardjustly supposed to be an extemporaneous effusion of thanks and praisesof his Chief. It was received with applause, but did not produce theeffect of his first poem. It was obvious, however, that the clanregarded the generosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Manyapproved Gaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which theChieftain gave his guest the following versions:--

  'To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe.' 'To him thatnever forsook a comrade.' 'To him that never bought or sold justice.''Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to the tyrant.' 'The ladswith the kilts.' 'Highlanders, shoulder to shoulder,'--with many otherpithy sentiments of the like nature.

  Edward was particularly solicitous to know the meaning of that songwhich appeared to produce such effect upon the passions of the company,and hinted his curiosity to his host. 'As I observe,' said theChieftain, 'that you have passed the bottle during the last threerounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to my sister'stea-table, who can explain these things to you better than I can.Although I cannot stint my clan in the usual current of theirfestivity, yet I neither am addicted myself to exceed in its amount,nor do I,' added he, smiling, 'keep a Bear to devour the intellects ofsuch as can make good use of them.'

  Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain, saying afew words to those around him, left the table, followed by Waverley. Asthe door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich Ian Vohr's healthinvoked with a wild and animated cheer, that expressed the satisfactionof the guests and the depth of their devotion to his service.