Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1Scott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
The liquor was supplied in the same proportion, and under similar
regulations. Excellent claret and champagne were liberally
distributed among the Chief's immediate neighbours; whisky, plain
or diluted, and strong beer refreshed those who sat near the lower
end. Nor did this inequality of distribution appear to give the
least offence. Every one present understood that his taste was to
be formed according to the rank which he held at table; and,
consequently, the tacksmen and their dependants always professed
the wine was too cold for their stomachs, and called, apparently
out of choice, for the liquor which was assigned to them from
economy. [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 Celtic
tongue, produced such a Babel of noises that Waverley dreaded his
ears would never recover it. Mac-Ivor, indeed, apologised for the
confusion occasioned by so large a party, and pleaded the
necessity of his situation, on which unlimited hospitality was
imposed 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 do
nothing for themselves but practise the broadsword, or wander
about the hills, shooting, fishing, hunting, drinking, and making
love to the lasses of the strath. But what can I do, Captain
Waverley? everything will keep after its kind, whether it be a
hawk or a Highlander.' Edward made the expected answer, in a
compliment upon his possessing so many bold and attached
followers.
'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 two
on the neck, I believe the loons would stand by me. But who thinks
of that in the present day, when the maxim is, "Better an old
woman with a purse in her hand than three men with belted
brands"?' Then, turning to the company, he proposed the 'Health of
Captain 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 from
Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine.'
'I say nay to that,' said an old man, who apparently did not mean
to pledge the toast; 'I say nay to that. While there is a green
leaf 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 from
him 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 blood
enough of the race of Ivor on the hand of Bradwardine.'
'Ah! Ballenkeiroch,' replied the first, 'you think rather of the
flash of the carbine at the mains of Tully-Veolan than the glance
of the sword that fought for the cause at Preston.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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