Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2 — Inside the Classic

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In Category - Historical Social Novels

Authors: Scott, Walter, 1771-1832 Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

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Words 95,863

Reading time 417 min

Text sections 11

This digital edition of Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 2 — Inside the Classic is described by source-level measurements including 95,863 words, 6 hr 57 min estimated reading time, and 11 detected text sections.

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Source: Project Gutenberg record #4965

This volume follows Edward Waverley through the Jacobite uprising of 1745, with Scott using shifting scenes—from a Covenanter's march to a Highland camp—to contrast religious zeal, clan loyalty, and personal honor. Recurring images of pistols, black-cocks, and lurking figures underscore the tension between impulsive violence and formal codes.

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Stirling was eighteen miles distant, he might be able, by becoming a borrower of the night for an hour or two, to reach it that evening. He therefore put forth his strength, and marched stoutly along at the head of his followers, eyeing our hero from time to time, as if he longed to enter into controversy with him. At length, unable to resist the temptation, he slackened his pace till he was alongside of his prisoner's horse, and after marching a few steps in silence abreast of him, he suddenly asked--'Can ye say wha the carle was wi' the black coat and the mousted head, that was wi' the Laird of Cairnvreckan?'

'A Presbyterian clergyman,' answered Waverley.

'Presbyterian!' answered Gilfillan contemptuously; 'a wretched Erastian, or rather an obscure Prelatist, a favourer of the black indulgence, ane of thae dumb dogs that canna bark; they tell ower a clash o' terror and a clatter o' comfort in their sermons, without ony sense, or savour, or life. Ye've been fed in siccan a fauld, belike?'

'No; I am of the Church of England,' said Waverley.

'And they're just neighbour-like,' replied the Covenanter; 'and nae wonder they gree sae weel. Wha wad hae thought the goodly structure of the Kirk of Scotland, built up by our fathers in 1642, wad hae been defaced by carnal ends and the corruptions of the time;--ay, wha wad hae thought the carved work of the sanctuary would hae been sae soon cut down!'

To this lamentation, which one or two of the assistants chorussed with a deep groan, our hero thought it unnecessary to make any reply. Whereupon Mr. Gilfillan, resolving that he should be a hearer at least, if not a disputant, proceeded in his Jeremiade.

'And now is it wonderful, when, for lack of exercise anent the call to the service of the altar and the duty of the day, ministers fall into sinful compliances with patronage, and indemnities, and oaths, and bonds, and other corruptions,--is it wonderful, I say, that you, sir, and other sic-like unhappy persons, should labour to build up your auld Babel of iniquity, as in the bluidy persecuting saint-killing times? I trow, gin ye werena blinded wi' the graces and favours, and services and enjoyments, and employments and inheritances, of this wicked world, I could prove to you, by the Scripture, in what a filthy rag ye put your trust; and that your surplices, and your copes and vestments, are but cast-off garments of the muckle harlot that sitteth upon seven hills and drinketh of the cup of abomination. But, I trow, ye are deaf as adders upon that side of the head; ay, ye are deceived with her enchantments, and ye traffic with her merchandise, and ye are drunk with the cup of her fornication!'

How much longer this military theologist might have continued his invective, in which he spared nobody but the scattered remnant of HILL-FOLK, as he called them, is absolutely uncertain. His matter was copious, his voice powerful, and his memory strong; so that there was little chance of his ending his exhortation till the party had reached Stirling, had not his attention been attracted by a pedlar who had joined the march from a cross-road, and who sighed or groaned with great regularity at all fitting pauses of his homily.

'And what may ye be, friend?' said the Gifted Gilfillan.

'A puir pedlar, that's bound for Stirling, and craves the protection of your honour's party in these kittle times. Ah' your honour has a notable faculty in searching and explaining the secret,--ay, the secret and obscure and incomprehensible causes of the backslidings of the land; ay, your honour touches the root o' the matter.'

'Friend,' said Gilfillan, with a more complacent voice than he had hitherto used, 'honour not me. I do not go out to park-dikes and to steadings and to market-towns to have herds and cottars and burghers pull off their bonnets to me as they do to Major Melville o' Cairnvreckan, and ca' me laird or captain or honour. No; my sma' means, whilk are not aboon twenty thousand merk, have had the blessing of increase, but the pride of my heart has not increased with them; nor do I delight to be called captain, though I have the subscribed commission of that gospel-searching nobleman, the Earl of Glencairn, fa whilk I am so designated. While I live I am and will be called Habakkuk Gilfillan, who will stand up for the standards of doctrine agreed on by the ance famous Kirk of Scotland, before she trafficked with the accursed Achan, while he has a plack in his purse or a drap o' bluid in his body.'

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The second volume of Waverley opens with a march that is as much a theological dispute as a military movement. Mr. Gilfillan, a Covenanter, cannot resist lecturing the captive Waverley on the corruptions of the Kirk, his speech laced with scriptural lament and contempt for 'Erastian' clergy. The scene establishes a pattern: movement through the landscape is repeatedly interrupted by argument, suspicion, or sudden violence. Scott’s narrative structure relies on these abrupt shifts—from the open road to a lurking ambush, from a formal duel to a pistol shot fired from cover. The reader is kept off balance, much like Waverley himself, who finds that every alliance carries hidden dangers.

The March as a Stage for Conflict

The journey from Cairnvreckan toward Stirling is not merely a passage of miles but a series of verbal and physical confrontations. Gilfillan’s harangue—calling the Presbyterian minister a 'dumb dog' and denouncing 'copes and vestments'—reveals the deep sectarian rifts within the Lowland population. Scott uses the march to expose the ideological fault lines that the Jacobite rising will exploit. The pace is deliberate: Gilfillan 'put forth his strength' to reach Stirling by night, yet he cannot resist slowing down to debate. This tension between forward motion and digression mirrors the novel’s own structure, where the plot advances through detours and disputes.

Pistols, Black-Cocks, and Lurking Figures

A recurring motif in this volume is the sudden appearance of a weapon or a threat from concealment. Alick Polwarth warns Waverley that the Mac-Ivors might 'mak a black-cock o' ye'—a phrase that conflates a game bird with a corpse. The warning is immediately followed by a pistol shot from Callum Beg, who 'whisked away through amang the reises.' The image of the lurking figure, the smoke-blackened muzzle, and the boy’s unblinking denial all reinforce a world where violence is both impulsive and ritualized. Fergus’s response—striking Callum with the pistol butt—shows that even discipline is enacted through brutality.

Shifting Loyalties and the Threat of Treachery

Waverley’s position grows precarious as he moves between factions. The Baron of Bradwardine commands his regiment half a mile ahead, while Fergus’s Highlanders march separately. The physical separation of the forces mirrors the political fragmentation of the Jacobite cause. When Callum fires, Waverley must decide whether to confront Fergus directly or seek protection from the Baron. Scott emphasizes the precariousness of personal honor: Fergus treats the shot as a 'pleasure' he had reserved for himself, turning a near-assassination into a matter of precedence. The scene suggests that in this world, loyalty is conditional and revenge is a sport.

The Landscape as a Space of Ambush

Scott’s descriptions of the terrain—the 'long avenue,' the 'reises' (brushwood), the 'common'—are not mere backdrop. They function as tactical spaces where concealment and surprise are possible. Callum Beg uses the cover of the reises to escape after firing; the avenue becomes a corridor of danger. The novel’s movement between open ground and enclosed paths creates a rhythm of exposure and hiding. Waverley, riding back to the squadron, is caught in this spatial logic: he must traverse the very avenue where the shot came. The landscape itself seems complicit in the threat, a reminder that in a civil war, no ground is neutral.

Readers attentive to Scott’s use of setting will find that the landscape is never merely scenic. The march, the avenue, the common—each is a stage for confrontation. The recurring image of the pistol, whether fired or brandished, ties together the themes of honor, revenge, and discipline. As the volume progresses, watch how these spatial and material details accumulate, shaping not only where the characters go but how they act and what they risk.

There’s something about how Scott lingers on the tension between what people promise and what they do—Edward Waverley keeps meeting men torn between loyalty and survival. I felt that same ache reading Colonel Thorndyke's Secret — Inside the Classic, where old choices echo quietly into later years. Maybe we never fully leave the moments that test us.