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CHAPTER TWELFTH.
REPENTANCE AND A RECONCILIATION.
Waverley was unaccustomed to the use of wine, excepting
with great temperance. He slept therefore soundly till late in
the succeeding morning, and then awakened to a painful recollection
of the scene of the preceding evening. He had received
a personal affront,---he, a gentleman, a soldier, and a Waverley.
True, the person who had offered it was not, at the time it was
given, possessed of the moderate share of sense which nature
had allotted him; true also, in resenting this insult, he would
break the laws of Heaven, as well as of his country; true, in
doing so, he might take the life of a young man who perhaps
respectably discharged the social duties, and render his family
miserable; or he might lose his own;---no pleasant alternative
even to the bravest, when it is debated coolly and in private.
All this pressed on his mind; yet the original statement
recurred with the same irresistible force. He had received a
personal insult; he was of the house of Waverley; and he bore
a commission. There was no alternative; and he descended to
the breakfast parlour with the intention of taking leave of the
family, and writing to one of his brother officers to meet him
at the inn mid-way between Tully-Veolan and the town where
they were quartered, in order that he might convey such a
message to the Laird of Balmawhapple as the circumstances
seemed to demand. He found Miss Bradwardine presiding over
the tea and coffee, the table loaded with warm bread, both of
flour, oatmeal, and barley-meal, in the shape of loaves, cakes,
biscuits, and other varieties, together with eggs, rein-deer ham,
mutton and beef ditto, smoked salmon, marmalade, and all
other delicacies which induced even Johnson himself to extol
the luxury of a Scotch breakfast above that of all other countries.
A mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked by a silver jug, which held
an equal mixture of cream and butter-milk, was placed for the
Baron's share of this repast; but Rose observed he had walked
out early in the morning, after giving orders that his guest
should not be disturbed.
Waverley sat down almost in silence, and with an air of
absence and abstraction, which could not give Miss Bradwardine
a favourable opinion of his talents for conversation. He
answered at random one or two observations which she ventured
to make upon ordinary topics; so that feeling herself almost
repulsed in her efforts at entertaining him, and secretly wondering
that a scarlet coat should cover no better breeding, she left
him to his mental amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit's favourite
constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mischief
which had already happened, and was likely to ensue. At once
he started, and his colour heightened, as, looking toward the
window, he beheld the Baron and young Balmawhapple pass
arm in arm, apparently in deep conversation; and he hastily
asked, ``Did Mr. Fa
lconer sleep here last night?'' Rose, not
much pleased with the abruptness of the first question which
the young stranger had addressed to her, answered dryly in the
negative, and the conversation again sunk into silence.
At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared, with a message
from his master requesting to speak with Captain Waverley in
another apartment. With a heart which beat a little quicker,
not indeed from fear, but from uncertainty and anxiety, Edward
obeyed the summons. He found the two gentlemen standing
together, an air of complacent dignity on the brow of the Baron,
while something like sullenness, or shame, or both, blanked the
bold visage of Balmawhapple. The former slipped his arm
through that of the latter, and thus seeming to walk with him,
while in reality he led him, advanced to meet Waverley, and,
stopping in the midst of the apartment, made in great state
the following oration: ``Captain Waverley,---my young and
esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple, has craved of
my age and experience, as of one not wholly unskilled in the
dependencies and punctilios of the duello or monomachia, to be
his interlocutor in expressing to you the regret with which he
calls to remembrance certain passages of our symposion last
night, which could not but be highly displeasing to you, as
serving for the time under this present existing government.
He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion the memory of such
solecisms against the laws of politeness, as being what his better
reason disavows, and to receive the hand which he offers you in
amity; and I must needs assure you, that nothing less than a
sense of being _dans son tort,_ as a gallant French chevalier,
Mons. Le Bretailleur, once said to me on such an occasion, and
an opinion also of your peculiar merit, could have extorted such
concessions; for he and all his family are, and have been time
out of mind, _Mavortia pectora,_ as Buchanan saith, a bold and
warlike sept, or people.''
Edward immediately, and with natural politeness, accepted
the hand which Balmawhapple, or rather the Baron in his
character of mediator, extended towards him. ``It was impossible,''
he said, ``for him to remember what a gentleman
expressed his wish he had not uttered; and he willingly imputed
what had passed to the exuberant festivity of the day.''
``That is very handsomely said,'' answered the Baron; ``for
undoubtedly if a man be _ebrius,_ or intoxicated---an incident
which, on solemn and festive occasions, may and will take place
in the life of a man of honour; and if the same gentleman,
being fresh and sober, recants the contumelies which he hath
spoken in his liquor, it must be held _vinum locutum_ est; the
words cease to be his own. Yet would I not find this exculpation
relevant in the case of one who was _ebriosus,_ or an
habitual drunkard; because, if such a person choose to pass the
greater part of his time in the predicament of intoxication,
he h
ath no title to be exeemed from the obligations of the code
of politeness, but should learn to deport himself peaceably and
courteously when under the influence of the vinous stimulus.---
And now let us proceed to breakfast, and think no more of this
daft business.''
I must confess, whatever inference may be drawn from the
circumstance, that Edward, after so satisfactory an explanation,
did much greater honour to the delicacies of Miss Bradwardine's
breakfast-table than his commencement had promised. Balmawhapple,
on the contrary, seemed embarrassed and dejected;
and Waverley now, for the first time, observed that his arm
was in a sling, which seemed to account for the awkward and
embarrassed manner with which he had presented his hand.
To a question from Miss Bradwardine, he muttered, in answer,
something about his horse having fallen; and, seeming desirous
to escape both from the subject and the company, he arose as
soon as breakfast was over, made his bow to the party, and,
declining the Baron's invitation to tarry till after dinner, mounted
his horse and returned to his own home.
Waverley now announced his purpose of leaving Tully-Veolan
early enough after dinner to gain the stage at which he meant
to sleep; but the unaffected and deep mortification with which
the good-natured and affectionate old gentleman heard the proposal,
quite deprived him of courage to persist in it. No sooner
had he gained Waverley's consent to lengthen his visit for a
few days, than he laboured to remove the grounds upon which
he conceived he had meditated a more early retreat. ``I would
not have you opine, Captain Waverley, that I am by practice
or precept an advocate of ebriety, though it may be that, in
our festivity of last night, some of our friends, if not perchance
altogether _ebrii,_ or drunken, were, to say the least, _ebrioli,_ by
which the ancients designed those who were fuddled, or, as
your English vernacular and metaphorical phrase goes, half-seas-over.
Not that I would so insinuate respecting you, Captain
Waverley, who, like a prudent youth, did rather abstain
from potation; nor can it be truly said of myself, who, having
assisted at the tables of many great generals and marechals at
their solemn carousals, have the art to carry my wine discreetly,
and did not, during the whole evening, as ye must have doubtless
observed, exceed the bounds of a modest hilarity.''
There was no refusing assent to a proposition so decidedly laid
down by him who undoubtedly was the best judge; although,
had Edward formed his opinion from his own recollections, he
would have pronounced that the Baron was not only _ebriolus,_
but verging to become _ebrius;_ or, in plain English, was incomparably
the most drunk of the party, except perhaps his
antagonist the Laird of Balmawhapple. However, having
received the expected, or rather the required, compliment on his
sobriety, the Baron proceeded,---``No, sir, though I am m
yself
of a strong temperament, I abhor ebriety, and detest those who
swallow wine _gul
albeit I might deprecate the law of Pittacus of Mitylene, who
punished doubly a crime committed under the influence of _Liber
Pater;_ nor would I utterly accede to the objurgation of the
younger Plinius, in the fourteenth book of his `Historia
Naturalis.' No, sir; I distinguish, I discriminate, and approve
of wine so far only as it maketh glad the face, or, in the language
of Flaccus, _recepto amico._''
Thus terminated the apology which the Baron of Bradwardine
thought it necessary to make for the superabundance of his
hospitality; and it may be easily believed that he was neither
interrupted by dissent, nor any expression of incredulity.
He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and ordered
that Davie Gellatley should meet them at the _dern path_ with
Ban and Buscar. `` For, until the shooting season commenced,
I would willingly show you some sport, and we may, God willing,
meet with a roe. The roe, Captain Waverley, may be
hunted at all times alike; for never being in what is called
_pride of grease,_ he is also never out of season, though it be a
truth that his venison is not equal to that of either the red or
fallow deer.<*> But he will serve to show how my dogs run
* The learned in cookery dissent from the Baron of Bradwardine, and
* hold the roe-venison dry and indifferent food, unless when dressed in soup
* and Scotch collops.
and therefore they shall attend us with Davie Gellatley.''
Waverley expressed his surprise that his friend Davie was
capable of such trust; but the Baron gave him to understand
that this poor simpleton was neither fatuous _nec naturaliter
idiota,_ as is expressed in the brieves of furiosity, but simply a
crackbrained knave, who could execute very well any commission
which jumped with his own humour, and made his folly a
plea for avoiding every other. ``He has made an interest with
us,'' continued the Baron, ``by saving Rose from a great danger
with his own proper peril; and the roguish loon must therefore
eat of our bread and drink of our cup, and do what he can, or
what he will; which, if the suspicions of Saunderson and the
Bailie are well founded, may perchance in his case be commensurate
terms.''
Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, that
this poor simpleton was doatingly fond of music, deeply affected
by that which was melancholy, and transported into extravagant
gaiety by light and lively airs. He had in this respect a prodigious
memory, stored with miscellaneous snatches and fragments
of all tunes and songs, which he sometimes applied, with
considerable address, as the vehicles of remonstrance, explanation,
or satire. Davie was much attached to the few who
showed him kindness; and both aware of any slight or ill usage
which he happened to receive, and sufficiently apt, where he
saw opportunit
y, to revenge it. The common people, who often
judge hardly of each other, as well as of their betters, although
they had expressed great compassion for the poor _innocent_ while
suffered to wander in rags about the village, no sooner beheld
him decently clothed, provided for, and even a sort of favourite,
than they called up all the instances of sharpness and ingenuity,
in action and repartee, which his annals afforded, and charitably
bottomed thereupon a hypothesis, that Davie Gellatley was no
farther fool than was necessary to avoid hard labour. This
opinion was not better founded than that of the Negroes, who,
from the acute and mischievous pranks of the monkeys, suppose
that they have the gift of speech, and only suppress their powers
of elocution to escape being set to work. But the hypothesis
was entirely imaginary. Davie Gellatley was in good earnest
the half-crazed simpleton which he appeared, and was incapable
of any constant and steady exertion. He had just so much
solidity as kept on the windy side of insanity; so much wild wit
as saved him from the imputation of idiocy; some dexterity in
field sports (in which we have known as great fools excel), great
kindness and humanity in the treatment of animals entrusted to
him, warm affections, a prodigious memory, and an ear for
music.
The stamping of horses was now heard in the court, and
Davie's voice singing to the two large deer greyhounds,---
Hie away, hie away,
Over bank and over brae,
Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady-fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the black-cock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae,
Hie away, hie away.
``Do the verses he sings,'' asked Waverley, ``belong to old
Scottish poetry, Miss Bradwardine?''
``I believe not,'' she replied. ``This poor creature had a
brother, and Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davies
deficiencies, had given him what the hamlet thought uncommon
talents. An uncle contrived to educate him for the Scottish
kirk, but he could not get preferment because he came from our
_ground._ He returned from college hopeless and brokenhearted,
and fell into a decline. My father supported him till his death,
which happened before he was nineteen. He played beautifully
on the flute, and was supposed to have a great turn for poetry.
He was affectionate and compassionate to his brother, who
followed him like his shadow, and we think that from him
Davie gathered many fragments, of songs and music unlike those
of this country. But if we ask him where he got such a fragment
as he is now singing, he either answers with wild and long
fits of laughter, or else breaks into tears of lamentation; but
was never heard to give any explanation, or to mention his
brother's name since his death.''
``Surely,'' said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale
bordering on the romantic, ``surely more might be learned by
more particular inquiry.''
``Perhaps so,'' answered Rose, ``but my father will not permit
any one to practise on his feelings on this subject.''
By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson,
had indued a pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now
invited our hero to follow him as he stalked clattering down
the ample staircase, tapping each huge balustrade as he passed
with the butt of his massive horse-whip, and humming, with
the air of a chasseur of Louis Quatorze,
Pour la chasse ordonn
Ho la ho! Vite! vite debout.