who presided there, which he instantly returned, using the expression in the text. Sometimes the proverb is worded thus — ‘Claw for claw, and the devil take the shortest nails, as Conan said to the devil.’
51 The Highland poet almost always was an improvisatore. Captain Burt met one of them at Lovat’s table.
52 The description of the waterfall mentioned in this chapter is taken from that of Ledeard, at the farm so called, on the northern side of Lochard, and near the head of the lake, four or five miles from Aberfoyle. It is upon a small scale, but otherwise one of the most exquisite cascades it is possible to behold. The appearance of Flora with the harp, as described, has been justly censured as too theatrical and affected for the lady-like simplicity of her character. But something may be allowed to her French education, in which point and striking effect always make a considerable object.
53 The young and daring adventurer, Charles Edward, landedat Glenaladale, in Moidart, and displayed his standard in the valley of Glenfinnan, mustering around it the Mac-Donalds, the Camerons, and other less numerous clans, whom he had prevailed on to join him. There is a monument erected on the spot, with a Latin inscription by the late Doctor Gregory.
54 The Marquis of Tullibardine’s elder brother, who, long exiled, returned to Scotland with Charles Edward in 1745.
Chapter XXIII
Waverley Continues at Glennaquoich
As Flora concluded her song, Fergus stood before them. ‘I knew I should find you here, even without the assistance of my friend Bran. A simple and unsublimed taste now, like my own, would prefer a jet d’eau at Versailles to this cascade, with all its accompaniments of rock and roar; but this is Flora’s Parnassus, Captain Waverley, and that fountain her Helicon. It would be greatly for the benefit of my cellar if she could teach her coadjutor, Mac-Murrough, the value of its influence: he has just drunk a pint of usquebaugh to correct, he said, the coldness of the claret. Let me try its virtues.’ He sipped a little water in the hollow of his hand, and immediately commenced, with a theatrical air, —
‘O Lady of the desert, hail!
That lovest the harping of the Gael,
Through fair and fertile regions borne,
Where never yet grew grass or corn.
But English poetry will never succeed under the influence of a Highland Helicon. Allons, courage!
O vous, qui buvez, a tasse pleine,
A cette heureuse f ontaine,
Ou on ne voit, sur le rivage,
Que quelques vilains troupeaux,
Suivis de nymphes de village,
Qui les escortent sans sabots — ’
‘A truce, dear Fergus! spare us those most tedious and insipid persons of all Arcadia. Do not, for Heaven’s sake, bring down Coridon and Lindor upon us.’
‘Nay, if you cannot relish la houlette et le chalumeau, have with you in heroic strains.’
‘Dear Fergus, you have certainly partaken of the inspiration of Mac-Murrough’s cup rather than of mine.’
‘I disclaim it, ma belle demoiselle, although I protest it would be the more congenial of the two. Which of your crack-brained Italian romancers is it that says,
Io d’Elicona niente
Mi curo, in fe de Dio; che’l bere d’acque
(Bea chi ber ne vuol) sempre mi spiacque! 55
But if you prefer the Gaelic, Captain Waverley, here is little Cathleen shall sing you Drimmindhu. Come, Cathleen, astore (i.e. my dear), begin; no apologies to the cean-kinne.’
Cathleen sung with much liveliness a little Gaelic song, the burlesque elegy of a countryman on the loss of his cow, the comic tones of which, though he did not understand the language, made Waverley laugh more than once.56
‘Admirable, Cathleen!’ cried the Chieftain; ‘I must find you a handsome husband among the clansmen one of these days.’
Cathleen laughed, blushed, and sheltered herself behind her companion.
In the progress of their return to the castle, the Chieftain warmly pressed Waverley to remain for a week or two, in order to see a grand hunting party, in which he and some other Highland gentlemen proposed to join. The charms of melody and beauty were too strongly impressed in Edward’s breast to permit his declining an invitation so pleasing. It was agreed, therefore, that he should write a note to the Baron of Bradwardine, expressing his intention to stay a fortnight at Glennaquoich, and requesting him to forward by the bearer (a gilly of the Chieftain’s) any letters which might have arrived for him.
This turned the discourse upon the Baron, whom Fergus highly extolled as a gentleman and soldier. His character was touched with yet more discrimination by Flora, who observed he was the very model of the old Scottish cavalier, with all his excellencies and peculiarities. ‘It is a character, Captain Waverley, which is fast disappearing; for its best point was a self-respect which was never lost sight of till now. But in the present time the gentlemen whose principles do not permit them to pay court to the existing government are neglected and degraded, and many conduct themselves accordingly; and, like some of the persons you have seen at Tully-Veolan, adopt habits and companions inconsistent with their birth and breeding. The ruthless proscription of party seems to degrade the victims whom it brands, however unjustly. But let us hope a brighter day is approaching, when a Scottish country gentleman may be a scholar without the pedantry of our friend the Baron, a sportsman without the low habits of Mr. Falconer, and a judicious improver of his property without becoming a boorish two- legged steer like Killancureit.’
Thus did Flora prophesy a revolution, which time indeed has produced, but in a manner very different from what she had in her mind.
The amiable Rose was next mentioned, with the warmest encomium on her person, manners, and mind. ‘That man,’ said Flora, ‘will find an inestimable treasure in the affections of Rose Bradwardine who shall be so fortunate as to become their object. Her very soul is in home, and in the discharge of all those quiet virtues of which home is the centre. Her husband will be to her what her father now is, the object of all her care, solicitude, and affection. She will see nothing, and connect herself with nothing, but by him and through him. If he is a man of sense and virtue, she will sympathise in his sorrows, divert his fatigue, and share his pleasures. If she becomes the property of a churlish or negligent husband, she will suit his taste also, for she will not long survive his unkindness. And, alas! how great is the chance that some such unworthy lot may be that of my poor friend! O that I were a queen this moment, and could command the most amiable and worthy youth of my kingdom to accept happiness with the hand of Rose Bradwardine!’
‘I wish you would command her to accept mine en attendant,’ said Fergus, laughing.
I don’t know by what caprice it was that this wish, however jocularly expressed, rather jarred
