Waverley; Or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Volume 1

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 highlyacceptable. He was not, indeed, so luxuriously attended upon thisoccasion as the heroic travellers in the Odyssey; the task ofablution and abstersion being performed, not by a beautifuldamsel, trained

  To chafe the limb, and pour the fragrant oil,

  but by a smoke-dried skinny old Highland woman, who did not seemto think herself much honoured by the duty imposed upon her, butmuttered between her teeth, 'Our fathers' herds did not feed sonear together that I should do you this service.' A smalldonation, however, amply reconciled this ancient handmaiden to thesupposed degradation; and, as Edward proceeded to the hall, shegave him her blessing in the Gaelic proverb, 'May the open hand befilled the fullest.'

  The hall, in which the feast was prepared, occupied all the firststory of lan nan Chaistel's original erection, and a huge oakentable extended through its whole length. The apparatus for dinnerwas simple, even to rudeness, and the company numerous, even tocrowding. At the head of the table was the Chief himself, withEdward, and two or three Highland visitors of neighbouring clans;the elders of his own tribe, wadsetters and tacksmen, as they werecalled, who occupied portions of his estate as mortgagers orlessees, sat next in rank; beneath them, their sons and nephewsand foster-brethren; then the officers of the Chief's household,according to their order; and lowest of all, the tenants whoactually cultivated the ground. Even beyond this long perspective,Edward might see upon the green, to which a huge pair of foldingdoors 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 thecheer of the day. In the distance, and fluctuating round thisextreme verge of 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 whomtook some interest, more or less immediate, in the main action ofthe piece.

  This hospitality, apparently unbounded, had yet its line ofeconomy. Some pains had been bestowed in dressing the dishes offish, game, etc., which were at the upper end of the table, andimmediately under the eye of the English stranger. Lower downstood immense clumsy joints of mutton and beef, which, but for theabsence of pork, [Footnote: See Note 21.] abhorred in theHighlands, resembled the rude festivity of the banquet ofPenelope's suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb,called 'a hog in har'st,' roasted whole. It was set upon its legs,with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibitedin that form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himselfmore on the plenty than the elegance of his master's table. Thesides of this poor animal were fiercely attacked by the clansmen,some with dirks, others with the knives which were usually in thesame sheath with the dagger, so that it was soon rendered amangled and rueful spectacle. Lower down still, the victualsseemed of yet coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant.Broth, onions, cheese, and the fragments of the feast regaled thesons of Ivor who feasted in the open air.

  The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under similarregulations. Excellent claret and champagne were liberallydistributed among the Chief's immediate neighbours; whisky, plainor diluted, and strong beer refreshed those who sat near the lowerend. Nor did this inequality of distribution appear to give theleast offence. Every one present understood that his taste was tobe formed according to the rank which he held at table; and,consequently, the tacksmen and their dependants always professedthe wine was too cold for their stomachs, and called, apparentlyout of choice, for the liquor which was assigned to them fromeconomy. [Footnote: See Note 22.] The bag-pipers, three in number,screamed, during the whole time of dinner, a tremendous war-tune;and the echoing of the vaulted roof, and clang of the Celtictongue, produced such a Babel of noises that Waverley dreaded hisears would never recover it. Mac-Ivor, indeed, apologised for theconfusion occasioned by so large a party, and pleaded thenecessity of his situation, on which unlimited hospitality wasimposed as a paramount duty. 'These stout idle kinsmen of mine,'he said, 'account my estate as held in trust for their support;and I must find them beef and ale, while the rogues will donothing for themselves but practise the broadsword, or wanderabout the hills, shooting, fishing, hunting, drinking, and makinglove to the lasses of the strath. But what can I do, CaptainWaverley? everything will keep after its kind, whether it be ahawk or a Highlander.' Edward made the expected answer, in acompliment upon his possessing so many bold and attachedfollowers.

  'Why, yes,' replied the Chief, 'were I disposed, like my father,to put myself in the way of getting one blow on the head, or twoon the neck, I believe the loons would stand by me. But who thinksof that in the present day, when the maxim is, "Better an oldwoman with a purse in her hand than three men with beltedbrands"?' Then, turning to the company, he proposed the 'Health ofCaptain Waverley, a worthy friend of his kind neighbour and ally,the Baron of Bradwardine.'

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

  'I say nay to that,' said an old man, who apparently did not meanto pledge the toast; 'I say nay to that. While there is a greenleaf in the forest, there will be fraud in a Comyne.

  'There is nothing but honour in the Baron of Bradwardine,'answered another ancient; 'and the guest that comes hither fromhim should be welcome, though he came with blood on his hand,unless it were blood of the 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 theflash of the carbine at the mains of Tully-Veolan than the glanceof the sword that fought for the cause at Preston.'

  'And well I may,' answered Ballenkeiroch; 'the flash of the guncost me a fair-haired son, and the glance of the sword has donebut little for King James.'

  The Chieftain, in two words of French, explained to Waverley thatthe Baron had shot this old man's son in a fray near Tully-Veolan,about seven years before; and then hastened to removeBallenkeiroch's prejudice, by informing him that Waverley was anEnglishman, unconnected by birth or alliance with the family ofBradwardine; upon which the old gentleman raised the hitherto-untasted cup and courteously drank to his health. This ceremonybeing requited in kind, the Chieftain made a signal for the pipesto cease, and said aloud, 'Where is the song hidden, my friends,that Mac-Murrough cannot find it?'

  Mac-Murrough, the family bhairdh, an aged man, immediately tookthe hint, and began to chant, with low and rapid utterance, aprofusion of Celtic verses, which were received by the audiencewith all the applause of enthusiasm. As he advanced in hisdeclamation, his ardour seemed to increase. He had at first spokenwith his eyes fixed on the ground; he now cast them around as ifbeseeching, and anon as if commanding, attention, and his tonesrose into wild and impassioned notes, accompanied with appropriategestures. He seemed to Edward, who attended to him with muchinterest, to recite many proper names, to lament the dead, toapostrophise the absent, to exhort, and entreat, and animate thosewho were present. Waverley thought he even discerned his own name,and was convinced his conjecture was right from the eyes of thecompany being at that moment turned towards him simultaneously.The ardour of the poet appeared to communicate itself to theaudience. Their wild and sun-burnt countenances assumed a fiercerand more animated expression; all bent forward towards thereciter, many sprung up and waved their arms in ecstasy, and somelaid their hands on their swords. When the song ceased, there wasa deep pause, while the aroused feelings of the poet and of thehearers gradually subsided into their usual channel.

  The Chieftain, who, during this scene had appeared rather to watchthe emotions which were excited than to partake their high tone ofenthusiasm, filled with claret a small silver cup which stood byhim. 'Give this,' he said to an attendant, 'to Mac-Murrough nanFon
n (i.e. of the songs), and when he has drank the juice, bid himkeep, for the sake of Vich Ian Vohr, the shell of the gourd whichcontained it.' The gift was received by Mac-Murrough with profoundgratitude; he drank the wine, and, kissing the cup, shrouded itwith reverence in the plaid which was folded on his bosom. He thenburst forth into what Edward justly supposed to be anextemporaneous effusion of thanks and praises of his Chief. It wasreceived with applause, but did not produce the effect of hisfirst poem. It was obvious, however, that the clan regarded thegenerosity of their Chieftain with high approbation. Many approvedGaelic toasts were then proposed, of some of which the Chieftaingave his guest the following versions:--

  'To him that will not turn his back on friend or foe.' 'To himthat never forsook a comrade.' 'To him that never bought or soldjustice.' 'Hospitality to the exile, and broken bones to thetyrant.' 'The lads with the kilts.' 'Highlanders, shoulder toshoulder,'--with many other pithy sentiments of the like nature.

  Edward was particularly solicitous to know the meaning of thatsong which appeared to produce such effect upon the passions ofthe company, and hinted his curiosity to his host. 'As I observe,'said the Chieftain, 'that you have passed the bottle during thelast three rounds, I was about to propose to you to retire to mysister's tea-table, who can explain these things to you betterthan I can. Although I cannot stint my clan in the usual currentof their festivity, yet I neither am addicted myself to exceed inits amount, nor do I,' added he, smiling, 'keep a Bear to devourthe intellects of such as can make good use of them.'

  Edward readily assented to this proposal, and the Chieftain,saying a few words to those around him, left the table, followedby Waverley. As the door closed behind them, Edward heard Vich IanVohr's health invoked with a wild and animated cheer, thatexpressed the satisfaction of the guests and the depth of theirdevotion to his service.