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CHAPTER
XXIII CLUNY'S CAGE We came at last to the foot of an
exceeding steep
wood, which scrambled up a craggy hillside, and was crowned by a naked
precipice. "It's here," said one of the
guides, and we
struck up hill. The trees clung upon the slope,
like sailors on the
shrouds of a ship, and their trunks were like the rounds of a ladder,
by which
we mounted. Quite at the top, and just before
the rocky face of
the cliff sprang above the foliage, we found that strange house which
was known
in the country as "Cluny's Cage."
The trunks of several trees had been wattled across,
the intervals
strengthened with stakes, and the ground behind this barricade levelled
up with
earth to make the floor. A
tree,
which grew out from the hillside, was the living centre-beam of the
roof.
The walls were of wattle and covered with moss.
The whole house had something of an egg shape; and
it half hung, half
stood in that steep, hillside thicket, like a wasp's nest in a green
hawthorn.
Within, it was large enough to
shelter five or six
persons with some comfort. A
projection of the cliff had been cunningly employed to be the
fireplace; and the
smoke rising against the face of the rock, and being not dissimilar in
colour,
readily escaped notice from below.
This was but one of Cluny's
hiding-places; he had
caves, besides, and underground chambers in several parts of his
country; and
following the reports of his scouts, he moved from one to another as
the
soldiers drew near or moved away.
By
this manner of living, and thanks to the affection of his clan, he had
not only
stayed all this time in safety, while so many others had fled or been
taken and
slain: but stayed four or five years longer, and only went to France at
last by
the express command of his master. There he soon died; and it is
strange to
reflect that he may have regretted his Cage upon Ben Alder.
When we came to the door he was
seated by his rock
chimney, watching a gillie about some cookery.
He was mighty plainly habited, with a knitted
nightcap drawn over his
ears, and smoked a foul cutty pipe.
For
all that he had the manners of a king, and it was quite a sight to see
him rise
out of his place to welcome us.
"Well, Mr. Stewart, come awa',
sir!" said
he, "and bring in your friend that as yet I dinna ken the name of."
"And how is yourself, Cluny?" said
Alan.
"I hope ye do brawly, sir.
And
I am proud to see ye, and to present to ye my friend the Laird of
Shaws, Mr.
David Balfour." Alan never referred to my estate
without a touch of a
sneer, when we were alone; but with strangers, he rang the words out
like a
herald. "Step in by, the both of ye,
gentlemen,"
says Cluny. "I make
ye welcome
to my house, which is a queer, rude place for certain, but one where I
have
entertained a royal personage, Mr. Stewart — ye doubtless ken the
personage I
have in my eye. We'll
take a dram
for luck, and as soon as this handless man of mine has the collops
ready, we'll
dine and take a hand at the cartes as gentlemen should.
My life is a bit driegh," says he, pouring out the
brandy;" I
see little company, and sit and twirl my thumbs, and mind upon a great
day that
is gone by, and weary for another great day that we all hope will be
upon the
road. And so here's
a toast to ye:
The Restoration!" Thereupon we all touched glasses
and drank.
I am sure I wished no ill to King George; and if he
had been there
himself in proper person, it's like he would have done as I did.
No sooner had I taken out the drain than I felt
hugely better, and could
look on and listen, still a little mistily perhaps, but no longer with
the same
groundless horror and distress of mind.
It was certainly a strange place,
and we had a
strange host. In
his long hiding,
Cluny had grown to have all manner of precise habits, like those of an
old maid.
He had a particular place, where no one else must
sit; the Cage was
arranged in a particular way, which none must disturb; cookery was one
of his
chief fancies, and even while he was greeting us in, he kept an eye to
the
collops. It appears, he sometimes visited or
received visits
from his wife and one or two of his nearest friends, under the cover of
night;
but for the more part lived quite alone, and communicated only with his
sentinels and the gillies that waited on him in the Cage.
The first thing in the morning, one of them, who was
a barber, came and
shaved him, and gave him the news of the country, of which he was
immoderately
greedy. There was
no end to his
questions; he put them as earnestly as a child; and at some of the
answers,
laughed out of all bounds of reason, and would break out again laughing
at the
mere memory, hours after the barber was gone.
To be sure, there might have been a
purpose in his
questions; for though he was thus sequestered, and like the other
landed
gentlemen of Scotland, stripped by the late Act of Parliament of legal
powers,
he still exercised a patriarchal justice in his clan.
Disputes were brought to him in his hiding-hole to
be
decided; and the men of his country, who would have snapped their
fingers at the
Court of Session, laid aside revenge and paid down money at the bare
word of
this forfeited and hunted outlaw.
When
he was angered, which was often enough, he gave his commands and
breathed
threats of punishment like any, king; and his gillies trembled and
crouched away
from him like children before a hasty father.
With each of them, as he entered, he ceremoniously
shook hands, both
parties touching their bonnets at the same time in a military manner.
Altogether, I had a fair chance to see some of the
inner workings of a
Highland clan; and this with a proscribed, fugitive chief; his country
conquered; the troops riding upon all sides in quest of him, sometimes
within a
mile of where he lay; and when the least of the ragged fellows whom he
rated and
threatened, could have made a fortune by betraying him.
On that first day, as soon as the
collops were ready,
Cluny gave them with his own hand a squeeze of a lemon (for he was well
supplied
with luxuries) and bade us draw in to our meal.
"They," said he, meaning the
collops,
"are such as I gave his Royal Highness in this very house; bating the
lemon
juice, for at that time we were glad to get the meat and never fashed
for kitchen.[28] Indeed, there were
mair dragoons than lemons in
my country in the year forty-six."
I do not know if the collops were
truly very good,
but my heart rose against the sight of them, and I could eat but little.
All the while Cluny entertained us with stories of
Prince Charlie's stay
in the Cage, giving us the very words of the speakers, and rising from
his place
to show us where they stood. By
these, I gathered the Prince was a gracious, spirited boy, like the son
of a
race of polite kings, but not so wise as Solomon.
I gathered, too, that while he was in the Cage, he
was often drunk; so
the fault that has since, by all accounts, made such a wreck of him,
had even
then begun to show itself.
We were no sooner done eating than
Cluny brought out
an old, thumbed, greasy pack of cards, such as you may find in a mean
inn; and
his eyes brightened in his face as he proposed that we should fall to
playing.
Now this was one of the things I
had been brought up
to eschew like disgrace; it being held by my father neither the part of
a
Christian nor yet of a gentleman to set his own livelihood and fish for
that of
others, on the cast of painted pasteboard.
To be sure, I might have pleaded my fatigue, which
was excuse enough; but
I thought it behoved that I should bear a testimony. I must have got
very red in
the face, but I spoke steadily, and told them I had no call to be a
judge of
others, but for my own part, it was a matter in which I had no
clearness.
Cluny stopped mingling the cards.
"What in
deil's name is this?" says he. "What
kind of Whiggish, canting talk is this, for the house of Cluny
Macpherson?"
"I will put my hand in the fire for
Mr.
Balfour," says Alan. "He
is an honest and a mettle gentleman, and I would have ye bear in mind
who says
it. I bear a king's
name,"
says he, cocking his hat; "and I and any that I call friend are company
for
the best. But the gentleman is tired, and should sleep; if he has no
mind to the
cartes, it will never hinder you and me.
And
I'm fit and willing, sir, to play ye any game that ye can name."
"Sir," says Cluny, "in this poor
house
of mine I would have you to ken that any gentleman may follow his
pleasure.
If your friend would like to stand on his head, he
is welcome.
And if either he, or you, or any other man, is not
preceesely satisfied,
I will be proud to step outside with him."
I had no will that these two
friends should cut their
throats for my sake. "Sir," said I, "I am very wearied,
as
Alan says; and what's more, as you are a man that likely has sons of
your own, I
may tell you it was a promise to my father."
"Say nae mair, say nae mair," said
Cluny,
and pointed me to a bed of heather in a corner of the Cage.
For all that he was displeased enough, looked at me
askance, and grumbled
when he looked. And
indeed it must be owned that both my scruples and the
words in which I declared them, smacked somewhat of the Covenanter, and
were
little in their place among wild Highland Jacobites.
What with the brandy and the
venison, a strange
heaviness had come over me; and I had scarce lain down upon the bed
before I
fell into a kind of trance, in which I continued almost the whole time
of our
stay in the Cage. Sometimes
I was
broad awake and understood what passed; sometimes I only heard voices,
or men
snoring, like the voice of a silly river; and the plaids upon the wall
dwindled
down and swelled out again, like firelight shadows on the roof.
I must sometimes have spoken or cried out, for I
remember I was now and
then amazed at being answered; yet I was conscious of no particular
nightmare,
only of a general, black, abiding horror — a horror of the place I was
in, and
the bed I lay in, and the plaids on the wall, and the voices, and the
fire, and
myself. The barber-gillie, who was a doctor
too, was called
in to prescribe for me; but as he spoke in the Gaelic, I understood not
a word
of his opinion, and was too sick even to ask for a translation.
I knew well enough I was ill, and that was all I
cared about.
I paid little heed while I lay in
this poor pass.
But Alan and Cluny were most of the time at the
cards, and I am clear
that Alan must have begun by winning; for I remember sitting up, and
seeing them
hard at it, and a great glittering pile of as much as sixty or a
hundred guineas
on the table. It
looked strange
enough, to see all this wealth in a nest upon a cliff-side, wattled
about
growing trees. And
even then, I
thought it seemed deep water for Alan to be riding, who had no better
battle-horse than a green purse and a matter of five pounds.
The luck, it seems, changed on the
second day.
About noon I was wakened as usual for dinner, and as
usual refused to
eat, and was given a dram with some bitter infusion which the barber
had
prescribed. The sun
was shining in
at the open door of the Cage, and this dazzled and offended me.
Cluny sat at the table, biting the pack of cards.
Alan had stooped over the bed, and had his face
close to my eyes; to
which, troubled as they were with the fever, it seemed of the most
shocking
bigness. He asked me for a loan of my money.
"What for?" said I.
"O, just for a loan," said he.
"But why?" I repeated. "I don't
see." "Hut, David!" said Alan, "ye
wouldnae
grudge me a loan?" I would, though, if I had had my
senses!
But all I thought of then was to get his face away,
and I handed him my
money. On the morning of the third day,
when we had been
forty-eight hours in the Cage, I awoke with a great relief of spirits,
very weak
and weary indeed, but seeing things of the right size and with their
honest,
everyday appearance. I
had a mind
to eat, moreover, rose from bed of my own movement, and as soon as we
had
breakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sat down outside in
the top of
the wood. It was a
grey day with a
cool, mild air: and I sat in a dream all morning, only disturbed by the
passing
by of Cluny's scouts and servants coming with provisions and reports;
for as the
coast was at that time clear, you might almost say he held court openly.
When I returned, he and Alan had
laid the cards
aside, and were questioning a gillie; and the chief turned about and
spoke to me
in the Gaelic. "I have no Gaelic, sir," said I.
Now since the card question,
everything I said or did
had the power of annoying Cluny. "Your
name has more sense than yourself, then," said he angrily. "for it's
good Gaelic. But the point is this.
My
scout reports all clear in the south, and the question is, have ye the
strength
to go?" I saw cards on the table, but no
gold; only a heap of
little written papers, and these all on Cluny's side.
Alan, besides, had an odd look, like a man not very
well content; and I
began to have a strong misgiving.
"I do not know if I am as well as I
should
be," said I, looking at Alan; "but the little money we have has a long
way to carry us." Alan took his under-lip into his
mouth, and looked
upon the ground. "David," says he at last, "I've
lost
it; there's the naked truth."
"My money too?" said I.
"Your money too," says Alan, with a
groan.
"Ye shouldnae have given it me. I'm daft when I get to the cartes."
"Hoot-toot! hoot-toot!" said Cluny.
"It was all daffing; it's all nonsense.
Of course you'll have your money back again, and the
double of it, if
ye'll make so free with me. It
would be a singular thing for me to keep it.
It's not to be supposed that I would be any
hindrance to gentlemen in
your situation; that would be a singular thing!" cries he, and began to
pull gold out of his pocket with a mighty red face.
Alan said nothing, only looked on
the ground.
"Will you step to the door with me,
sir?"
said I. Cluny said he would be very glad,
and followed me
readily enough, but he looked flustered and put out.
"And now, sir," says I, "I must
first
acknowledge your generosity."
"Nonsensical nonsense!" cries
Cluny.
"Where's the generosity? This is just a most unfortunate affair; but
what
would ye have me do — boxed up in this bee-skep of a cage of mine —
but just
set my friends to the cartes, when I can get them?
And if they lose, of course, it's not to be supposed — — " And here he came to a pause.
"Yes," said I, "if they lose, you
give
them back their money; and if they win, they carry away yours in their
pouches!
I have said before that I grant your generosity; but
to me, sir, it's a
very painful thing to be placed in this position."
There was a little silence, in
which Cluny seemed
always as if he was about to speak, but said nothing.
All the time he grew redder and redder in the face.
"I am a young man,"
said I, "and I ask your advice.
Advise me as you would your son. My friend fairly
lost his money, after
having fairly gained a far greater sum of yours; can I accept it back
again?
Would that be the right part for me to play?
Whatever I do, you can see
for yourself it must be hard upon a man of any pride."
"It's rather hard on me, too, Mr.
Balfour,"
said Cluny, "and ye give me very much the look of a man that has
entrapped
poor people to their hurt. I
wouldnae have my friends come to any house of mine to accept affronts;
no,"
he cried, with a sudden heat of anger, "nor yet to give them!"
"And so you see, sir," said I,
"there
is something to be said upon my side; and this gambling is a very poor
employ
for gentlefolks. But
I am still
waiting your opinion." I am sure if ever Cluny hated any
man it was David
Balfour. He looked
me all over with
a warlike eye, and I saw the challenge at his lips.
But either my youth disarmed him, or perhaps his own
sense of
justice. Certainly
it was a
mortifying matter for all concerned, and not least Cluny; the more
credit that
he took it as he did. "Mr. Balfour," said he, "I think you are too nice and covenanting, but for all that you have the spirit of a very pretty gentleman. Upon my honest word, ye may take this money — it's what I would tell my son — and here's my hand along with it!" ____________________
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