Chapter XXIII. Cluny's Cage

by Robert Louis Stevenson

　　We came at last to the foot of an exceeding steep wood, whichscrambled up a craggy hillside, and was crowned by a nakedprecipice."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 aship, and their trunks were like the rounds of a ladder, by whichwe mounted.Quite at the top, and just before the rocky face of the cliffsprang above the foliage, we found that strange house which wasknown in the country as "Cluny's Cage." The trunks of severaltrees had been wattled across, the intervals strengthened withstakes, and the ground behind this barricade levelled up withearth to make the floor. A tree, which grew out from thehillside, was the living centre-beam of the roof. The walls wereof wattle and covered with moss. The whole house had somethingof 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 withsome comfort. A projection of the cliff had been cunninglyemployed to be the fireplace; and the smoke rising against theface of the rock, and being not dissimilar in colour, readilyescaped 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; andfollowing the reports of his scouts, he moved from one to anotheras the soldiers drew near or moved away. By this manner ofliving, and thanks to the affection of his clan, he had not onlystayed all this time in safety, while so many others had fled orbeen taken and slain: but stayed four or five years longer, andonly 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 haveregretted 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 plainlyhabited, with a knitted nightcap drawn over his ears, and smokeda 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 towelcome us."Well, Mr. Stewart, come awa', sir!" said he, "and bring in yourfriend 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 friendthe Laird of Shaws, Mr. David Balfour."Alan never referred to my estate without a touch of a sneer, whenwe were alone; but with strangers, he rang the words out like aherald."Step in by, the both of ye, gentlemen," says Cluny. "I make yewelcome 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 adram for luck, and as soon as this handless man of mine has thecollops ready, we'll dine and take a hand at the cartes asgentlemen should. My life is a bit driegh," says he, pouring outthe brandy;" I see little company, and sit and twirl my thumbs,and mind upon a great day that is gone by, and weary for anothergreat day that we all hope will be upon the road. And so here'sa toast to ye: The Restoration!"Thereupon we all touched glasses and drank. I am sure I wishedno ill to King George; and if he had been there himself in properperson, it's like he would have done as I did. No sooner had Itaken out the drain than I felt hugely better, and could look onand listen, still a little mistily perhaps, but no longer withthe same groundless horror and distress of mind.It was certainly a strange place, and we had a strange host. Inhis long hiding, Cluny had grown to have all manner of precisehabits, like those of an old maid. He had a particular place,where no one else must sit; the Cage was arranged in a particularway, which none must disturb; cookery was one of his chieffancies, and even while he was greeting us in, he kept an eye tothe collops.It appears, he sometimes visited or received visits from his wifeand one or two of his nearest friends, under the cover of night;but for the more part lived quite alone, and communicated onlywith his sentinels and the gillies that waited on him in theCage. The first thing in the morning, one of them, who was abarber, came and shaved him, and gave him the news of thecountry, of which he was immoderately greedy. There was no endto his questions; he put them as earnestly as a child; and atsome of the answers, laughed out of all bounds of reason, andwould break out again laughing at the mere memory, hours afterthe barber was gone.To be sure, there might have been a purpose in his questions; forthough he was thus sequestered, and like the other landedgentlemen of Scotland, stripped by the late Act of Parliament oflegal powers, he still exercised a patriarchal justice in hisclan. Disputes were brought to him in his hiding-hole to bedecided; and the men of his country, who would have snapped theirfingers at the Court of Session, laid aside revenge and paid downmoney at the bare word of this forfeited and hunted outlaw. Whenhe was angered, which was often enough, he gave his commands andbreathed threats of punishment like any, king; and his gilliestrembled and crouched away from him like children before a hastyfather. With each of them, as he entered, he ceremoniously shookhands, both parties touching their bonnets at the same time in amilitary manner. Altogether, I had a fair chance to see some ofthe inner workings of a Highland clan; and this with aproscribed, fugitive chief; his country conquered; the troopsriding upon all sides in quest of him, sometimes within a mile ofwhere he lay; and when the least of the ragged fellows whom herated and threatened, could have made a fortune by betraying him.On that first day, as soon as the collops were ready, Cluny gavethem with his own hand a squeeze of a lemon (for he was wellsupplied with luxuries) and bade us draw in to our meal."They," said he, meaning the collops, "are such as I gave hisRoyal Highness in this very house; bating the lemon juice, for atthat time we were glad to get the meat and never fashed forkitchen.[28] Indeed, there were mair dragoons than lemons in mycountry in the year forty-six."[28]Condiment.I do not know if the collops were truly very good, but my heartrose against the sight of them, and I could eat but little. Allthe while Cluny entertained us with stories of Prince Charlie'sstay in the Cage, giving us the very words of the speakers, andrising from his place to show us where they stood. By these, Igathered the Prince was a gracious, spirited boy, like the son ofa 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 thefault 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 meaninn; and his eyes brightened in his face as he proposed that weshould fall to playing.Now this was one of the things I had been brought up to eschewlike disgrace; it being held by my father neither the part of aChristian nor yet of a gentleman to set his own livelihood andfish for that of others, on the cast of painted pasteboard. Tobe sure, I might have pleaded my fatigue, which was excuseenough; but I thought it behoved that I should bear a testimony.I must have got very red in the face, but I spoke steadily, andtold them I had no call to be a judge of others, but for my ownpart, 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 thehouse of Cluny Macpherson?""I will put my hand in the fire for Mr. Balfour," says Alan. "Heis an honest and a mettle gentleman, and I would have ye bear inmind who says it. I bear a king's name," says he, cocking hishat; "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 mindto the cartes, it will never hinder you and me. And I'm fit andwilling, sir, to play ye any game that ye can name.""Sir," says Cluny, "in this poor house of mine I would have youto ken that any gentleman may follow his pleasure. If yourfriend would like to stand on his head, he is welcome. And ifeither 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 formy 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 youit was a promise to my father.""Say nae mair, say nae mair," said Cluny, and pointed me to a bedof heather in a corner of the Cage. For all that he wasdispleased enough, looked at me askance, and grumbled when helooked. And indeed it must be owned that both my scruples andthe words in which I declared them, smacked somewhat of theCovenanter, and were little in their place among wild HighlandJacobites.What with the brandy and the venison, a strange heaviness hadcome over me; and I had scarce lain down upon the bed before Ifell into a kind of trance, in which I continued almost the wholetime of our stay in the Cage. Sometimes I was broad awake andunderstood what passed; sometimes I only heard voices, or mensnoring, like the voice of a silly river; and the plaids upon thewall dwindled down and swelled out again, like firelight shadowson the roof. I must sometimes have spoken or cried out, for Iremember I was now and then amazed at being answered; yet I wasconscious of no particular nightmare, only of a general, black,abiding horror -- a horror of the place I was in, and the bed Ilay 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 toprescribe for me; but as he spoke in the Gaelic, I understood nota word of his opinion, and was too sick even to ask for atranslation. I knew well enough I was ill, and that was all Icared about.I paid little heed while I lay in this poor pass. But Alan andCluny were most of the time at the cards, and I am clear thatAlan must have begun by winning; for I remember sitting up, andseeing them hard at it, and a great glittering pile of as much assixty or a hundred guineas on the table. It looked strangeenough, to see all this wealth in a nest upon a cliff-side,wattled about growing trees. And even then, I thought it seemeddeep water for Alan to be riding, who had no better battle-horsethan a green purse and a matter of five pounds.The luck, it seems, changed on the second day. About noon I waswakened as usual for dinner, and as usual refused to eat, and wasgiven a dram with some bitter infusion which the barber hadprescribed. The sun was shining in at the open door of the Cage,and this dazzled and offended me. Cluny sat at the table, bitingthe pack of cards. Alan had stooped over the bed, and had hisface close to my eyes; to which, troubled as they were with thefever, 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 ofthen was to get his face away, and I handed him my money.On the morning of the third day, when we had been forty-eighthours in the Cage, I awoke with a great relief of spirits, veryweak and weary indeed, but seeing things of the right size andwith their honest, everyday appearance. I had a mind to eat,moreover, rose from bed of my own movement, and as soon as we hadbreakfasted, stepped to the entry of the Cage and sat downoutside 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 thepassing by of Cluny's scouts and servants coming with provisionsand reports; for as the coast was at that time clear, you mightalmost say he held court openly.When I returned, he and Alan had laid the cards aside, and werequestioning a gillie; and the chief turned about and spoke to mein the Gaelic."I have no Gaelic, sir," said I.Now since the card question, everything I said or did had thepower of annoying Cluny. "Your name has more sense thanyourself, then," said he angrily. "for it's good Gaelic. But thepoint is this. My scout reports all clear in the south, and thequestion is, have ye the strength to go?"I saw cards on the table, but no gold; only a heap of littlewritten papers, and these all on Cluny's side. Alan, besides,had an odd look, like a man not very well content; and I began tohave a strong misgiving."I do not know if I am as well as I should be," said I, lookingat Alan; "but the little money we have has a long way to carryus."Alan took his under-lip into his mouth, and looked upon theground."David," says he at last, "I've lost it; there's the nakedtruth.""My money too?" said I."Your money too," says Alan, with a groan. "Ye shouldnae havegiven it me. I'm daft when I get to the cartes.""Hoot-toot! hoot-toot!" said Cluny. "It was all daffing; it's allnonsense. Of course you'll have your money back again, and thedouble of it, if ye'll make so free with me. It would be asingular thing for me to keep it. It's not to be supposed that Iwould be any hindrance to gentlemen in your situation; that wouldbe a singular thing!" cries he, and began to pull gold out of hispocket 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 yourgenerosity.""Nonsensical nonsense!" cries Cluny. "Where's the generosity?This is just a most unfortunate affair; but what would ye have medo -- boxed up in this bee-skep of a cage of mine -- but just setmy 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 apause."Yes," said I, "if they lose, you give them back their money; andif they win, they carry away yours in their pouches! I have saidbefore that I grant your generosity; but to me, sir, it's a verypainful thing to be placed in this position."There was a little silence, in which Cluny seemed always as if hewas about to speak, but said nothing. All the time he grewredder and redder in the face."I am a young man," said I, "and I ask your advice. Advise meas you would your son. My friend fairly lost his money, afterhaving fairly gained a far greater sum of yours; can I accept itback again? Would that be the right part for me to play?Whatever I do, you can see for yourself it must be hard upon aman of any pride.""It's rather hard on me, too, Mr. Balfour," said Cluny, "and yegive me very much the look of a man that has entrapped poorpeople to their hurt. I wouldnae have my friends come to anyhouse of mine to accept affronts; no," he cried, with a suddenheat of anger, "nor yet to give them!""And so you see, sir," said I, "there is something to be saidupon my side; and this gambling is a very poor employ forgentlefolks. But I am still waiting your opinion."I am sure if ever Cluny hated any man it was David Balfour. Helooked me all over with a warlike eye, and I saw the challenge athis lips. But either my youth disarmed him, or perhaps his ownsense of justice. Certainly it was a mortifying matter for allconcerned, and not least Cluny; the more credit that he took itas he did."Mr. Balfour," said he, "I think you are too nice andcovenanting, but for all that you have the spirit of a verypretty gentleman. Upon my honest word, ye may take this money --it's what I would tell my son -- and here's my hand along withit!"