by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XI
THE BANQUET
The entertainment was ample and handsome, according to the Scotchideas of the period, and the guests did great honour to it. TheBaron eat like a famished soldier, the Laird of Balmawhapple likea sportsman, Bullsegg of Killancureit like a farmer, Waverleyhimself like a traveller, and Bailie Macwheeble like all fourtogether; though, either out of more respect, or in order topreserve that proper declination of person which showed a sensethat he was in the presence of his patron, he sat upon the edge ofhis chair, placed at three feet distance from the table, andachieved a communication with his plate by projecting his persontowards it in a line which obliqued from the bottom of his spine,so that the person who sat opposite to him could only see theforetop of his riding periwig.
This stooping position might have been inconvenient to anotherperson; but long habit made it, whether seated or walking,perfectly easy to the worthy Bailie. In the latter posture itoccasioned, no doubt, an unseemly projection of the person towardsthose who happened to walk behind; but those being at all timeshis inferiors (for Mr. Macwheeble was very scrupulous in givingplace to all others), he cared very little what inference ofcontempt or slight regard they might derive from the circumstance.Hence, when he waddled across the court to and from his old greypony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking upon its hind legs.
The nonjuring clergyman was a pensive and interesting old man,with much of the air of a sufferer for conscience' sake. He wasone 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 thenicety of his scruples. Indeed, it must be owned, that he himself,though at heart a keen partisan of the exiled family, had keptpretty fair with all the different turns of state in his time; sothat Davie Gellatley once described him as a particularly goodman, who had a very quiet and peaceful conscience, THAT NEVER DIDHIM ANY HARM.
When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced the health of theKing, politely leaving to the consciences of his guests to drinkto the 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 andsimplicity, retired, and was soon followed by the clergyman. Amongthe rest of the party, the wine, which fully justified theencomiums of the landlord, flowed freely round, although Waverley,with some difficulty, obtained the privilege of sometimesneglecting the glass. At length, as the evening grew more late,the Baron made a private signal to Mr. Saunders Saunderson, or, ashe facetiously denominated him, Alexander ab Alexandro, who leftthe room with a nod, and soon after returned, his gravecountenance 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 gobletof a singular and antique appearance, moulded into the shape of arampant bear, which the owner regarded with a look of mingledreverence, pride, and delight, that irresistibly reminded Waverleyof Ben Jonson's Tom Otter, with his Bull, Horse, and Dog, as thatwag wittily denominated his chief carousing cups. But Mr.Bradwardine, turning towards him with complacency, requested himto observe this curious relic of the olden time.
'It represents,' he said, 'the chosen crest of our family, a bear,as ye observe, and RAMPANT; because a good herald will depictevery animal in its noblest posture, as a horse SALIENT, agreyhound CURRANT, and, as may be inferred, a ravenous animal inactu ferociori, or in a voracious, lacerating, and devouringposture. Now, sir, we hold this most honourable achievement by thewappen-brief, or concession of arms, of Frederick Red-beard,Emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, Godmund Bradwardine, itbeing the crest of a gigantic Dane, whom he slew in the lists inthe Holy Land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of the emperor'sspouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely which, and thus,as Virgilius hath it--
Mutemus clypeos, Danaumque insignia nobis Aptemus.
Then for the cup, Captain Waverley, it was wrought by the commandof Saint Duthac, Abbot of Aberbrothock, for behoof of anotherbaron of the house of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended thepatrimony of that monastery against certain encroaching nobles. Itis properly termed the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine (though oldDoctor Doubleit used jocosely to call it Ursa Major), and wassupposed, in old and Catholic times, to be invested with certainproperties of a mystical and supernatural quality. And though Igive not in to such anilia, it is certain it has always beenesteemed a solemn standard cup and heirloom of our house; nor isit ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I hold tobe the arrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof; and Idevote this draught to the health and prosperity of the ancientand highly-to-be-honoured house of Waverley.'
During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a cob-webbedbottle of claret into the goblet, which held nearly an Englishpint; and, at the conclusion, delivering the bottle to the butler,to be held carefully in the same angle with the horizon, hedevoutly quaffed off the contents of the Blessed Bear ofBradwardine.
Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal making hisrounds, and thought with great anxiety upon the appropriate motto,'Beware the Bear'; but, at the same time, plainly foresaw that, asnone of the guests scrupled to do him this extraordinary honour, arefusal on his part to pledge their courtesy would be extremelyill received. Resolving, therefore, to submit to this last pieceof tyranny, and then to quit the table, if possible, and confidingin the strength of his constitution, he did justice to the companyin the contents of the Blessed Bear, and felt less inconveniencefrom the draught than he could possibly have expected. The others,whose time had been more actively employed, began to show symptomsof innovation--'the good wine did its good office.' [Footnote:Southey's Madoc.] The frost of etiquette and pride of birth beganto give way before the genial blessings of this benignconstellation, and the formal appellatives with which the threedignitaries had hitherto addressed each other were now familiarlyabbreviated into Tully, Bally, and Killie. When a few rounds hadpassed, the two latter, after whispering together, cravedpermission (a joyful hearing for Edward) to ask the grace-cup.This, after some delay, was at length produced, and Waverleyconcluded the orgies of Bacchus were terminated for the evening.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, inpoliteness, avoid walking with them up the avenue, and Waverleyfrom the same motive, and to enjoy after this feverish revel thecool summer evening, attended the party. But when they arrived atLuckie Macleary's the Lairds of Balmawhapple and Killancureitdeclared their determination to acknowledge their sense of thehospitality of Tully-Veolan by partaking, with their entertainerand his guest Captain Waverley, what they technically called deochan doruis, a stirrup-cup, [Footnote 2: See Note 10] to the honourof the Baron's roof-tree.
It must be noticed that the Bailie, knowing by experience that theday's jovialty, which had been hitherto sustained at the expenseof his patron, might terminate partly at his own, had mounted hisspavined grey pony, and, between gaiety of heart and alarm forbeing hooked into a reckoning, spurred him into a hobbling canter(a trot was out of the question), and had already cleared thevillage. The others entered the change-house, leading Edward inunresisting submission; for his landlord whispered him, that todemur to such an overture would be construed into a highmisdemeanour against the leges conviviales, or regulations ofgenial compotation. Widow Macleary seemed to have expected thisvisit, as well she might, for it was the usual consummation ofmerry bouts, not only at Tully-Veolan, but at most othergentlemen's houses in Scotland, Sixty Years Since. The gueststhereby at once acquitted themselves of their burden of gratitudefor their entertainer's kindness, encouraged the trade of hischange-house, did honour to the place which afforded harbour totheir horses, and indemnified themselves for the previousrestraints imposed by private
hospitality, by spending whatFalstaff calls the sweet of the night in the genial license of atavern.
Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests,Luckie Macleary had swept her house for the first time thisfortnight, tempered her turf-fire to such a heat as the seasonrequired in her damp hovel even at Midsummer, set forth her dealtable newly washed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf,arranged four or five stools of huge and clumsy form upon thesites which best suited the inequalities of her clay floor; andhaving, moreover, put on her clean toy, rokelay, and scarletplaid, gravely awaited the arrival of the company, in full hope ofcustom and profit. When they were seated under the sooty raftersof Luckie Macleary's only apartment, thickly tapestried withcobwebs, their hostess, who had already taken her cue from theLaird of Balmawhapple, appeared with a huge pewter measuring-pot,containing at least three English quarts, familiarly denominated aTappit Hen, and which, in the language 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 notdevoured were to be picked up by the Hen; but the confusion whichappeared to prevail favoured Edward's resolution to evade thegaily circling glass. The others began to talk thick and at once,each performing his own part in the conversation without the leastrespect to his neighbour. The Baron of Bradwardine sung Frenchchansons-a-boire, and spouted pieces of Latin; Killancureittalked, in a steady unalterable dull key, of top-dressing andbottom-dressing, [Footnote: This has been censured as ananachronism; and it must be confessed that agriculture of thiskind was unknown to the Scotch Sixty Years Since.] and year-olds,and gimmers, and dinmonts, and stots, and runts, and kyloes, and aproposed turnpike-act; while Balmawhapple, in notes exalted aboveboth, extolled his horse, his hawks, and a greyhound calledWhistler. In the middle of this din, the Baron repeatedly imploredsilence; and when at length the instinct of polite discipline sofar prevailed that for a moment he obtained it, he hastened tobeseech their attention 'unto a military ariette, which was aparticular favourite of the Marechal Duc de Berwick'; then,imitating, as well as he could, the manner and tone of a Frenchmusquetaire, 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 port 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 hecalled a d--d good song, composed by Gibby Gaethroughwi't, thepiper 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 moor-fowl's tail.
[Footnote: Suum cuique. This snatch of a ballad was composed byAndrew MacDonald, the ingenious and unfortunate author ofVimonda.]
The Baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder and moreobstreperous strains of Balmawhapple, now dropped the competition,but continued to hum 'Lon, Lon, Laridon,' and to regard thesuccessful candidate for the attention of the company with an eyeof disdain, while Balmawhapple proceeded,--
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 sungthe first over again; and, in prosecution of his triumph, declaredthere was 'more sense in that than in all the derry-dongs ofFrance, and Fifeshire to the boot of it.' The Baron only answeredwith a long pinch of snuff and a glance of infinite contempt. Butthose noble allies, the Bear and the Hen, had emancipated theyoung laird from the habitual reverence in which he heldBradwardine at other times. He pronounced the claret shilpit, anddemanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought; and nowthe Demon of Politics envied even the harmony arising from thisDutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note in thestrange compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her, theLaird of Balmawhapple, now superior to the nods and winks withwhich the Baron of Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, hadhitherto checked his entering upon political discussion, demandeda bumper, with the lungs of a Stentor, 'to the little gentleman inblack velvet who did such service in 1702, and may the white horsebreak his neck over a mound of his making!'
Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember thatKing William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to beowing to his horse stumbling at a mole-hill; yet felt inclined totake umbrage at a toast which seemed, from the glance ofBalmawhapple's eye, to have a peculiar and uncivil reference tothe Government which he served. But, ere he could interfere, theBaron of Bradwardine had taken up the quarrel. 'Sir,' he said,'whatever my sentiments tanquam privatus may be in such matters, Ishall not tamely endure your saying anything that may impinge uponthe honourable feelings of a gentleman under my roof. Sir, if youhave no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not respect themilitary oath, the sacramentum militare, by which every officer isbound to the standards under which he is enrolled? Look at TitusLivius, what he says of those Roman soldiers who were so unhappyas exuere sacramentum, to renounce their legionary oath; but youare ignorant, sir, alike of ancient history and modern courtesy.'
'Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me,' roared Balmawhapple.'I ken weel that you mean the Solemn League and Covenant; but ifa' the Whigs in hell had taken the--'
Here the Baron and Waverley both spoke at once, the former callingout, 'Be silent, sir! ye not only show your ignorance, butdisgrace your native country before a stranger and an Englishman';and Waverley, at the same moment, entreating Mr. Bradwardine topermit him to reply to an affront which seemed levelled at himpersonally. But the Baron was exalted by wine, wrath, and scornabove all sublunary considerations.
'I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverley; you are elsewhere,peradventure, sui juris,--foris-familiated, that is, and entitled,it may be, to think and resent for yourself; but in my domain, inthis poor Barony of Bradwardine, and under this roof, which isquasi mine, being held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, Iam in loco parentis to you, and bound to see you scathless. Andfor you, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple, I warn ye, let me see nomore aberrations from the paths of good manners.'
'And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine andTully-Veolan,' retorted the sportsman in huge disdain, 'that I'llmake a moor-cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether it be acrop-eared English Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug, or ane whadeserts his ain friends to claw favour wi' the rats of Hanover.'
In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperatepasses exchanged. Balmawhapple was young, stout, and active; butthe Baron, infinitely more master of his weapon, would, like SirToby Belch, have tickled his opponent other gates than he did hadhe not been under the influence of Ursa Major.
Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but theprostrate bulk of the Laird of Killancureit, over which hestumbled, intercepted his passage. How Killancureit happened to bein this recumbent posture at so interesting a moment was neveraccurately known. Some thought he was about to insconce himselfunder the table; he himself alleged that he stumbled in the act oflifting a joint-stool, to prevent mischief, by knocking downBalmawhapple. Be that as it may, if readier aid than either his orWaverley's had not interposed, there would certainly have beenbloodshed. But the well-known clash of swords, which was nostranger to her dwelling, aroused Luckie Macleary as she satquietly beyond the hallan, or earthen partition of the cottage,with eyes employed on Boston's 'Crook the Lot,' while her ideaswere engaged in summing up the reckoning. She boldly rushed in,with the shrill expostulation, 'Wad their honours slay ane anotherthere, and bring discredit on an honest widow-woman's house, whenthere was a' the lee-land in the country to fight upon?' aremonstrance which she seconded by flinging her plaid with greatdexterity over the weapons of the combatants. The servants by thistime rushed in, and
being, by great chance, tolerably sober,separated the incensed opponents, with the assistance of Edwardand Killancureit. The latter led off Balmawhapple, cursing,swearing, and vowing revenge against every Whig, Presbyterian, andfanatic in England and Scotland, from John-o'-Groat's to theLand's End, and with difficulty got him to horse. Our hero, withthe assistance of Saunders Saunderson, escorted the Baron ofBradwardine to his own dwelling, but could not prevail upon him toretire to bed until he had made a long and learned apology for theevents of the evening, of which, however, there was not a wordintelligible, except something about the Centaurs and theLapithae.
