Chronicles of the Canongate | Page 7

Invernahyle--a name which I cannot write
without the warmest recollections of gratitude to the friend of my
childhood, who first introduced me to the Highlands, their traditions,
and their manners--had been engaged actively in the troubles of 1745.
As he charged at the battle of Preston with his clan, the Stewarts of
Appin, he saw an officer of the opposite army standing alone by a
battery of four cannon, of which he discharged three on the advancing
Highlanders, and then drew his sword. Invernahyle rushed on him, and
required him to surrender. "Never to rebels!" was the undaunted reply,
accompanied with a lunge, which the Highlander received on his target,
but instead of using his sword in cutting down his now defenceless
antagonist, he employed it in parrying the blow of a Lochaber axe
aimed at the officer by the Miller, one of his own followers, a
grim-looking old Highlander, whom I remember to have seen. Thus
overpowered, Lieutenant-Colonel Allan Whitefoord, a gentleman of
rank and consequence, as well as a brave officer, gave up his sword,
and with it his purse and watch, which Invernahyle accepted, to save
them from his followers. After the affair was over, Mr. Stewart sought
out his prisoner, and they were introduced to each other by the
celebrated John Roy Stewart, who acquainted Colonel Whitefoord with
the quality of his captor, and made him aware of the necessity of
receiving back his property, which he was inclined to leave in the hands
into which it had fallen. So great became the confidence established
betwixt them, that Invernahyle obtained from the Chevalier his
prisoner's freedom upon parole; and soon afterwards, having been sent
back to the Highlands to raise men, he visited Colonel Whitefoord at
his own house, and spent two happy days with him and his Whig
friends, without thinking on either side of the civil war which was then
raging.
When the battle of Culloden put an end to the hopes of Charles Edward,
Invernahyle, wounded and unable to move, was borne from the field by
the faithful zeal of his retainers. But as he had been a distinguished
Jacobite, his family and property were exposed to the system of
vindictive destruction too generally carried into execution through the
country of the insurgents. It was now Colonel Whitefoord's turn to

exert himself, and he wearied all the authorities, civil and military, with
his solicitations for pardon to the saver of his life, or at least for a
protection for his wife and family. His applications were for a long
time unsuccessful. "I was found with the mark of the Beast upon me in
every list," was Invernahyle's expression. At length Colonel
Whitefoord applied to the Duke of Cumberland, and urged his suit with
every argument which he could think of, being still repulsed, he took
his commission from his bosom, and having said something of his own
and his family's exertions in the cause of the House of Hanover, begged
to resign his situation in their service, since he could not be permitted
to show his gratitude to the person to whom he owed his life. The duke,
struck with his earnestness, desired him to take up his commission, and
granted the protection required for the family of Invernahyle.
The chieftain himself lay concealed in a cave near his own house,
before which a small body of regular soldiers were encamped. He could
hear their muster-roll called every morning, and their drums beat to
quarters at night, and not a change of the sentinels escaped him. As it
was suspected that he was lurking somewhere on the property, his
family were closely watched, and compelled to use the utmost
precaution in supplying him with food. One of his daughters, a child of
eight or ten years old, was employed as the agent least likely to be
suspected. She was an instance, among others, that a time of danger and
difficulty creates a premature sharpness of intellect. She made herself
acquainted among the soldiers, till she became so familiar to them that
her motions escaped their notice; and her practice was to stroll away
into the neighbourhood of the cave, and leave what slender supply of
food she carried for that purpose under some remarkable stone, or the
root of some tree, where her father might find it as he crept by night
from his lurking-place. Times became milder, and my excellent friend
was relieved from proscription by the Act of Indemnity. Such is the
interesting story which I have rather injured than improved by the
manner in which it is told in Waverley.
This incident, with several other circumstances illustrating the Tales in
question, was communicated by me to my late lamented friend,
William Erskine (a Scottish judge, by the title of Lord Kinedder),