“Besides that,” said another, “your
lordship—I speak with reverence—should,
at least, consult the Knight of Ardenvohr’s letter,
and learn the terms on which this Major Dalgetty, as
he calls himself, has been sent hither by him.”
They closed around the Marquis, and conversed together
in a low tone, both in Gaelic and English. The
patriarchal power of the Chiefs was very great, and
that of the Marquis of Argyle, armed with all his grants
of hereditary jurisdiction, was particularly absolute.
But there interferes some check of one kind or other
even in the most despotic government. That which
mitigated the power of the Celtic Chiefs, was the necessity
which they lay under of conciliating the kinsmen who,
under them, led out the lower orders to battle, and
who formed a sort of council of the tribe in time
of peace. The Marquis on this occasion thought
himself under the necessity of attending to the remonstrances
of this senate, or more properly COUROULTAI, of the
name of Campbell, and, slipping out of the circle,
gave orders for the prisoner to be removed to a place
of security.
“Prisoner!” exclaimed Dalgetty, exerting
himself with such force as wellnigh to shake off two
Highlanders, who for some minutes past had waited
the signal to seize him, and kept for that purpose
close at his back. Indeed the soldier had so
nearly attained his liberty, that the Marquis of Argyle
changed colour, and stepped back two paces, laying,
however, his hand on his sword, while several of his
clan, with ready devotion, threw themselves betwixt
him and the apprehended vengeance of the prisoner.
But the Highland guards were too strong to be shaken
off, and the unlucky Captain, after having had his
offensive weapons taken from him, was dragged off
and conducted through several gloomy passages to a
small side-door grated with iron, within which was
another of wood. These were opened by a grim
old Highlander with a long white beard, and displayed
a very steep and narrow flight of steps leading downward.
The Captain’s guards pushed him down two or
three steps, then, unloosing his arms, left him to
grope his way to the bottom as he could; a task which
became difficult and even dangerous, when the two doors
being successively locked left the prisoner in total
darkness.
CHAPTER XIII.
Whatever stranger visits
here,
We pity his sad case,
Unless to worship he
draw near
The King of Kings—his
Grace.
—BURNS’S
epigram on A visit to Inverary.
The Captain, finding himself deprived of light in
the manner we have described, and placed in a very
uncertain situation, proceeded to descend the narrow
and broken stair with all the caution in his power,
hoping that he might find at the bottom some place
to repose himself. But with all his care he could
not finally avoid making a false step, which brought
him down the four or five last steps too hastily to
preserve his equilibrium. At the bottom he stumbled
over a bundle of something soft, which stirred and
uttered a groan, so deranging the Captain’s
descent, that he floundered forward, and finally fell
upon his hands and knees on the floor of a damp and
stone-paved dungeon.
