The Highland Armistice

“My Lord of Menteith,” continued Montrose, “will you have the goodness to attend Sir Duncan Campbell of Ardenvohr, while we determine who shall return with him to his Chief?
M’Aulay will permit us to request that he be entertained with suitable hospitality.”
“I will give orders for that,” said Allan M’Aulay, rising and coming forward.
“I love Sir Duncan Campbell; we have been joint sufferers in former days, and I do not forget it now.”
“My Lord of Menteith,” said Sir Duncan Campbell, “I am grieved to see you, at your early age, engaged in such desperate and rebellious courses.”
“I am young,” answered Menteith, “yet old enough to distinguish between right and wrong, between loyalty and rebellion; and the sooner a good course is begun, the longer and the better have I a chance of running it.”
“And you too, my friend, Allan M’Aulay,” said Sir Duncan, taking his hand, “must we also call each other enemies, that have been so often allied against a common foe?”
Then turning round to the meeting, he said, “Farewell, gentlemen; there are so many of you to whom I wish well, that your rejection of all terms of mediation gives me deep affliction.
May Heaven,” he said, looking upwards, “judge between our motives, and those of the movers of this civil commotion!”
“Amen,” said Montrose; “to that tribunal we all submit us.”
Sir Duncan Campbell left the hall, accompanied by Allan M’Aulay and Lord Menteith.
“There goes a true-bred Campbell,” said Montrose, as the envoy departed, “for they are ever fair and false.”
“Pardon me, my lord,” said Evan Dhu; “hereditary enemy as I am to their name, I have ever found the Knight of Ardenvohr brave in war, honest in peace, and true in council.”
“Of his own disposition,” said Montrose, “such he is undoubtedly; but he now acts as the organ or mouth-piece of his Chief, the Marquis, the falsest man that ever drew breath.
And, M’Aulay,” he continued in a whisper to his host, “lest he should make some impression upon the inexperience of Menteith, or the singular disposition of your brother,
you had better send music into their chamber, to prevent his inveigling them into any private conference.”
“The devil a musician have I,” answered M’Aulay, “excepting the piper, who has nearly broke his wind by an ambitious contention for superiority with three of his own craft; but I can send Annot Lyle and her harp.”
And he left the apartment to give orders accordingly.

About Edward Fitzgerald

English poet best known for his free translation of Omar Khayyám's "Rubáiyát," one of the most popular poems in English.

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