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‘A timely, important, and impressive book that provides a tremendous new
examination of Alexander the Great. Ferguson and Worthington establish
convincingly that civilization’s advances have not made war less complex or
less taxing on the human condition. As the world evolves from an era of benign
globalization to one of renewed great power rivalries, The Military Legacy of
Alexander the Great is a compelling exploration of the timeless and often brutal
nature of war’.
– General David Petraeus (U.S. Army, Ret.), former Commander
of the Surge in Iraq, U.S. Central Command, and NATO/US
Forces in Afghanistan and co-author (with Andrew Roberts)
of Conflict: The Evolution of Warfare from 1945 to Ukraine.

‘Ferguson and Worthington’s book is a bold effort that integrates a history from
antiquity with contemporary insights on leadership. A well-designed project of
no small amount of intellectual ambition, it is brilliantly executed with nuance
and good deal of classical scholarship. Professional students of the art of war
will benefit from this historically grounded study that serves as a unique guide to
anyone aspiring to master the complexities of strategic leadership’.
– Frank Hoffman, Ph.D., U.S. National Defense University

‘A much needed, didactic reexamination of the unique ways in which Alexander

the Great overcame daunting challenges of logistics, geography, numbers, culture,
and politics that should have guaranteed his failure – and the lessons that ancient
history offers. A rare, scholarly, and pragmatic guide to the unchanging principles
of conducting war by authors who are as versed with wars of the past as they are
familiar with conflict in the present’.
– Victor Davis Hanson, the Hoover Institution, Stanford University.
Author of A War Like No Other; The Second World Wars.

‘Michael P. Ferguson and Ian Worthington have presented an excellent account and
analysis of Alexander’s campaigns, detailing his strengths and weaknesses across
the different levels and components of strategy. Moreover, the book identifies a
range of valuable insights for the modern practitioner of strategy. Perhaps most
importantly, the book determines that, despite our ever-changing world, war and
strategy remain fundamentally human endeavours in which leadership and strategic
judgement remain paramount’.
– David J. Lonsdale, author of Alexander the Great: Lessons in Strategy.

‘Leadership, strategy, perseverance, individual will . . . these characteristics are

the legacy of Alexander the Great, and they are why we have studied him and his
campaigns over the centuries. His ability to push his army beyond normal limits
and reach the fullest possible potential of his soldiers are what is expected of every
modern leader today’.
– Lt. Gen. Ben Hodges, US Army (Retired).
The Military Legacy of Alexander
the Great

Placing Alexander the Great’s leadership, command skills, and grand strategy
within the context of twenty-first century military challenges, and thus showing
continuities in leadership and warfare since his time, this volume demonstrates
how and why Alexander is relevant to the modern world by emphasizing the need
for human leadership in our digital era.
Not only does this volume explore Alexander’s rich military history, but also
it provides a robust exploration of the twenty-first century security environment.
Theorists and policy-makers will gain insight into how Alexander’s story informs
our thinking about peace, war, and strategy, while practitioners and educators
will encounter ways to improve their approaches to leader development and
building curricula. Ferguson and Worthington set forth these lessons in a thematic
framework that organises Alexander’s reign into distinct parts, together with
chapters discussing the lessons and warnings he brings to the modern world.
Twenty-fifth National Security Advisor to the President of the United States,
Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, provides a thoughtful conclusion to this fascinating
volume. Alexander’s timeless campaigns remain as germane to this age as any
other and demonstrate the critical importance of dynamic leadership and historical
studies in an era increasingly dominated by the culture of technology.
The Military Legacy of Alexander the Great is expertly written for students
and scholars in a variety of disciplines, including Classics, Ancient History,
Modern History, Peace Studies, and Military Studies. It is also of great interest to
senior defence leaders, military academies, leadership- and management-focused
academic programmes, intelligence organizations, and senior service colleges. The
volume is also suitable for the general reader interested in warfare, military history,
and history more broadly.

Michael P. Ferguson (M.S.) is a U.S. Army Officer and Ph.D. student at the University
of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. His decades of military experience include combat
tours to Iraq and Afghanistan and postings throughout Europe and Africa. He has
authored dozens of journal articles and is an opinion contributor at The Hill.

Ian Worthington (FSA, FRHistS) is Professor of Ancient History at Macquarie

University, Australia. He has written numerous books, including The Last Kings
of Macedonia and the Triumph of Rome; Athens after Empire: A History from
Alexander the Great to the Emperor Hadrian; and By the Spear: Philip II, Alexander
the Great, and the Rise and Fall of the Macedonian Empire.
The Military Legacy
of Alexander the Great
Lessons for the Information Age

Michael P. Ferguson and Ian Worthington

Conclusion by
Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, U.S. Army (retired)
Designed cover image: Credit line: Matthias Kestel/Alamy Stock Photo and
AFP/US Air Force
First published 2024
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© 2024 Michael P. Ferguson and Ian Worthington
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British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Names: Ferguson, Michael P., author. | Worthington, Ian, author.
Title: The military legacy of Alexander the Great : lessons for the
information age / Michael P. Ferguson and Ian Worthington ; conclusion
by Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, U.S. Army (retired).
Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Includes
bibliographical references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023024833 (print) | LCCN 2023024834 (ebook) |
ISBN 9780367482435 (hardback) | ISBN 9780367512323 (paperback) |
ISBN 9781003052951 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Alexander, the Great, 356 B.C.-323 B.C.—Military
leadership. | Alexander, the Great, 356 B.C.-323 B.C.—Influence. |
Greece—History—Macedonian Expansion, 359–323 B.C.
Classification: LCC DF234.2 .F388 2024 (print) | LCC DF234.2 (ebook) |
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DOI: 10.4324/9781003052951
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by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Contents

Preface ix
Acronyms xii
List of Illustrations xiii
Portrait of Alexander the Great xiv
Map of Alexander’s Empire xv

Introduction: Why Alexander the Great? Then and Now 1

PART I
The Environment 17

1 Alexander’s Macedonian Background and Influences 19

2 A Brave New World? 34

PART II
Military Organization and Structure 55

3 The Macedonian Army and Greek Warfare 57

4 Organizing, Innovating, and Prioritizing Modernization 72

PART III
Choosing Battles – And Winning Wars? 101

5 Alexander’s First Campaigns 103

6 Alexander in Persia 1: King of Asia 115
viii Contents

7 Alexander in Persia 2: Mission Accomplished? 136

8 The Art of Control and the Enduring Fog of War 157

PART IV
Eastern Exposure 179

9 Alexander in Central Asia 181

10 Alexander in India and His Final Years 197
11 West Meets East: Command and Control? 218
12 The Trials and Tolls of Expeditionary Warfare 231

PART V
The Human Domain 261

13 Alexander’s Generalship 263

14 Alexander’s Grand Strategy: Model or Model Failure? 276

Conclusion 308
LT. GENERAL H. R. McMASTER

Bibliography  310
Index345
Preface

Alexander the Great was one of antiquity’s greatest military strategists

and conquerors and is still revered today in military and professional busi-
ness circles for his accomplishments. In a campaign of less than a decade,
he marched thousands of miles to topple the vast Persian Empire and for
a time extend the Macedonian Empire as far as India. He was a pivotal
and polarizing figure in and for his own historical period and remained so
throughout the ages. Despite technological advances, especially in the field
of AI, Alexander remains remarkably relevant to modern leaders, students,
theorists, planners, and practitioners of the profession of arms far more than
initial takes might tell.
We set the successes and failures of Alexander’s leadership, command
skills, and grand strategy amidst the backdrop of twenty-first century
challenges, specifically, the human aspect versus the mechanical. Dis-
ruptive emerging technologies are more likely to make effective combat
leadership more challenging rather than relieving the burden of ambigu-
ity and decision-making from tomorrow’s leaders. Studying Alexander’s
persona amidst his successes and tragic failures is therefore more impor-
tant than ever as it stresses the need to refocus on the human talents that
drive sound generalship, statesmanship, and grand strategy in our present
digital era.
The authors have different backgrounds, training, and certainly different
professions and therefore views of Alexander’s personality. Ferguson is a
decorated U.S. Army officer and combat veteran with expertise in modern
warfare and defense analysis, and Worthington is an academic specializing
in Greek history, especially Alexander the Great and his era, who writes
about battles and strategy from the safety of his armchair. Both have differ-
ent areas of knowledge and expertise, not to mention writing styles, which
will be obvious to readers. Joining forces as we did for this book may well
be unconventional, yet it exemplifies one of the most crucial lessons Alex-
ander offers the modern world: the need for broader collaboration between
x Preface

defense and academia. As one of the referees of an earlier draft of our book
said, our combined effort and approach turned out to be a unique concept
that worked. Modesty prevents us from agreeing.
We have a number of people to thank for their help and support through-
out the writing of this book, beginning with Amy Davis-Poynter, Marcia
Adams, and all the staff at Routledge, who were always generous with their
time and advice and patience.
We are indebted to Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, U.S. Army (retired) and
former U.S. National Security Adviser, for writing the conclusion to the
book.
We are very grateful to Ben Hodges, Frank Hoffman, David Lonsdale,
and Joseph Roisman for generously giving their time to read a draft of
the book: their sharp comments benefited our work greatly. Likewise, we
thank the referees of the book for many valuable suggestions. Any remain-
ing errors are of course our own.
In addition, Michael P. Ferguson would like to thank his wife Chris-
tine for her tireless support and patience, and to his young children, Emma
and Luke, for their boundless curiosity throughout the process. This project
would not have been possible without the wisdom of his coauthor, from
whom Michael surely learned more than he had to offer. The idea for this
book emerged after Michael published a 2018 article in Joint Force Quar-
terly comparing the premonitions of Demosthenes and Winston Churchill.
A simple e-mail thanking Ian for his research led to a multi-year project that
evolved into this book.
Over the last two decades, many educators and military leaders have
shaped Michael’s philosophy on leadership and the nature of war. Among
them are Lt. Gen. H. R. McMaster, Lt. Gen. Ronald Clark, Maj. Gen. Carl
Alex, Col. David Maxwell, Maj. Phil Gioia, Dr. Williamson Murray, and Dr.
Antulio Echevarria II. Ferguson would be remiss if he failed to mention the
impact of those who encouraged his writing over the years, including the
late Maj. Gen. Gary Johnston, Secretary of Defense Gen. James Mattis, Col.
James Greer, Col. Candice Frost, and Congressional aides who found the
time to send a note. Such relatively small gestures personify the type of lead-
ership we describe in this book as aspirational. Finally, Dr. Frank Hoffman
of the National Defense University has been an exceptionally generous
mentor who, despite his competing demands, was never too busy to live up
to his service’s creed by remaining semper fidelis.
Ian Worthington is hugely indebted to Michael P. Ferguson, who started
off as a collaborator and became a friend. Worthington learned so much
from him; his encyclopedic knowledge and incisive comments saved Wor-
thington from numerous errors that he hopes he never divulges, and his
 Preface xi

enthusiasm was infectious. That Worthington and others can write freely
from the safety of an armchair is also due to him and all who served in the
armed forces for our protection, for which no words can adequately express
gratitude.
Worthington is also obliged to Macquarie University for granting him
OSP (research) leave in second semester 2020, allowing him to make sub-
stantial progress on this book.
Finally, he thanks again his family, Tracy, Oliver, and Rosie, for putting
up with him while writing another book he knows they won’t read.

Michael P. Ferguson
Fort Bragg, NC

Ian Worthington
Macquarie University, Sydney
March 2023
Acronyms

ACE Air Combat Evolution

AI Artificial Intelligence
ATLAS Advanced Targeting & Lethality Automated System
BCAP Battalion Commander Assessment Program
C2 Command and Control
CCP Chinese Communist Party
CENTCOM U.S. Central Command
DARPA Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency
DIE Diplomacy, Information, Economic
DIME Diplomacy, Information, Military, and Economic
GLONASS Globalnaya Navigazionnaya Sputnikovaya Sistema
IO Information Operations
JAIC Joint Artificial Intelligence Center
LAWS Lethal Autonomous Weapons Systems
LSCO Large-scale Combat Operations
MARS Machine-Assisted Analytic Rapid-Repository System
ML Machine Learning
OEF Operation Enduring Freedom
OIF Operation Iraqi Freedom
OODA Observe, Orient, Decide, Act
PGM Precision Guided Munitions
PME Professional Military Education
PRC People’s Republic of China
RMA Revolutions in Military Affairs
SOF Special Operations Forces
TAILOR Teaching AI to Leverage Overlooked Residuals
UAV/S Unmanned Aerial Vehicle/System
List of Illustrations

Maps
0.1 Map of Alexander’s Empire. Credit: Historicair via
Wikimedia Commons. xv

Figures
0.1 Portrait of a sculpture of Alexander the Great. Credit: Ann
Ronan Picture Library/Heritage-Images/Alamy Stock Photo. xiv
3.1 Macedonian Phalanx Formation carrying sarissas.
Credit: Erin Babnik/Alamy Stock Photo. 62
4.1 Airmen conduct maintenance checks on a U.S. drone. U.S.
Air Force Photo/Airman 1st Class Kristan Campbell. 91
6.1 Battle of the Granicus River. Credit: Andrei Nacu via
Wikimedia Commons. 118
6.2 Battle of Issus. Credit: Frank Martini, Department
of History, United States Military Academy. 128
7.1 Battle of Gaugamela. Credit: Department of History,
United States Military Academy. 144
8.1 White House officials watching the killing of Osama bin
Laden. Credit: Pete Souza. 158
8.2 Map of Afghanistan. Credit: Perry-Castañeda Library
Map Collection, 2017. 162
8.3 Map of Iraq. Credit: ADuran via Wikimedia Commons. 165
10.1 Battle of the Hydaspes River. Credit: Frank Martini,
Department of History, United States Military Academy. 203
12.1 Image of Ramadi’s urban landscape. Credit: Michael P.
Ferguson. 245
12.2 Image of Afghan mountains near Kabul. Credit: DoD Staff
Sgt. Michael L. Casteel, U.S. Army. 249
Portrait of Alexander the Great

Figure 0.1 Portrait of a sculpture of Alexander the Great. Credit: Ann Ronan Picture
Library/Heritage-Images/Alamy Stock Photo.
 Map of Alexander’s Empire
Map 0.1 Map of Alexander’s Empire. Credit: Historicair via Wikimedia Commons.
Introduction
Why Alexander the Great? Then and Now

All dates for Alexander and the ancient world are bc.
The publisher has allowed British English and American English spellings, for
which the authors are grateful.

Alexander the Great was one of the ancient world’s most skilled military
strategists and conquerors; arguably, he was the greatest and a true warrior
king. As king of Macedonia from 336 to his death in Babylon in 323, his
very name evokes images of hard-fought battles and sieges against superior
enemy forces. He traversed thousands of miles, consistently ensuring he
had adequate modes of transportation, manpower, and resources, to estab-
lish an empire from Greece in the west to what the Greeks called India
(present-day Pakistan) in the east – remarkably within a decade from first
setting foot on Asian soil in 334.
Alexander is relevant to today’s leaders and students of the profession
of arms far more than typically imagined. This book is not meant to be a
biography or a strictly military treatment of Alexander as there are plenty of
those already.1 Instead, it is an account of his campaigns as well as a discus-
sion of his background, influences, and personality to understand him in his
own time and to see why and how the lessons from his reign, especially his
leadership and art of war, inform us today, for better or worse.
Modern military campaigns are anchored as much in the planning as
in the combat. They demand, among other things, that logistics have been
worked out in advance; lines of communication established; topography
researched; satellite reconnaissance scrutinized; contacts with locals estab-
lished; maps prepared; troop numbers decided considering enemy forces
and locations; and, ideally, clear exit plans made.2 Though Alexander had
some intelligence on Persia from Persians visiting his father’s court and
from his readings, he had almost none of the aforementioned information
and knowledge when he sailed for Asia in spring 334. He may have had an
DOI: 10.4324/9781003052951-1
2 Introduction

insight into Persian numbers from the advance force that Philip had sent to
Asia Minor in 336, but that was two years ago: in 334, he could not have
known precisely how many men the Persians could field or even where he
would fight them.
Nor was Alexander targeting a small number of capitals or bases in
one country as the Persian Empire stretched from Turkey to Pakistan and
included Egypt and Syria. By today’s roads, the distance from the most
westerly capital, Sardis (Sart in Turkey), to the most easterly, Persepolis
(northeast of Shiraz in Iran), is roughly 2,000 miles and from Persepolis
to the most northernly palace at Ecbatana (probably Hamadan, Iran) is 556
miles. In addition, in Central Asia to the Hyphasis (Beas) River, Alexander
marched a further 1,865 miles. Yet for all his battles and distances navi-
gated, even in his time, he was able to combine the three fundamentals of
modern combat operations: attacking, moving, and communicating with his
staff throughout his empire.
When we take into account that Alexander was not on an exploratory
mission but an invasion (though exploration became a part of it), that every-
where he went was in enemy territory, that he had to battle large armies and
deal with guerilla warfare in Bactria and war elephants in India, that he kept
his men motivated, and that he had none of the tools of warfare available
today, the empire he created was an astonishing achievement. His invasion
from the outset was also a testament to how a foreign army can survive in
distant, hostile, and unknown lands, proving that the need for sound plan-
ning and inspiring leadership was as important to Alexander as they are
crucial to modern practitioners of national security and defence.
It was not just his battles that proved his strategic genius and quick think-
ing, but also his sieges, which can inform the study of megacity warfare and
conflict in dense urban environments even today.3 His sieges were against
enemy cities in different terrains and with varying defence systems, such as
thick walls, high ramparts, catapults, archers, and even cauldrons of boiling
oil and sand emptied onto besiegers, as well as the defenders’ determina-
tion to fight to the death if need be. These techniques presented myriad
challenges that offer lessons for modern theorists, planners, and practition-
ers, not least how to attack and isolate an enemy force within a city, cut
off supply lines, cope with firepower, disable communications, and force
surrender. Although different in scale, Alexander still had to ensure that the
enemy city was isolated and denied supplies and reinforcements, and he
did so effectively by maintaining a persistent physical presence to oversee
operations.
Despite his leadership, when Alexander reached the River Hyphasis
(Beas) in 326, the second to last river of the Punjab, his men mutinied,
 Introduction 3

refusing to cross the river into the territory of the warlike Nanda dynasty.
They held out for three days before Alexander was forced to turn back.
A mere two years later, in 324, Alexander faced another mutiny, this time at
Opis, a city on the River Tigris not far from modern Baghdad. For another
three days, his men defied him until he ended the mutiny and could focus
on his next campaign to Arabia. These mutinies we will consider further in
Chapter 10.
At the same time, there was never any attempt to replace Alexander as
general or king, and ultimately the men’s loyalty to him carried the day. He
had identified with them throughout the Asian campaign, suffering as they
had suffered, fighting as they had fought, drinking as they had drunk. He
was king, yet he also made himself one of them. That was why they fol-
lowed him into battle against armies that outnumbered their own and into
alien regions inhabited by dissimilar cultures.
It might seem odd to begin a book on military leadership by touting
Alexander’s strengths and relevance but then describing not one but two
mutinies faced by the commander of interest. But when that commander
was Alexander the Great, who had a propensity for turning any adversity he
faced into success, there is much to uncover when evaluating his authority
and its lessons for modern leaders. Alexander’s personal style of leader-
ship, the loyalty he enjoyed (as even the mutinies show, for his army never
overturned his power), his flaws, and above all, how he approached the
challenges of dealing with culturally dissimilar people in different parts of
the world can be studied with profit even in our technocratic age.

Alexander Today: Principles and Pitfalls

Major General J.F.C. Fuller’s classic book on Alexander’s generalship
remains the consummate study of his command, but it was published more
than sixty years ago. Since then, the world experienced dramatic changes
that perhaps even Fuller could not have imagined. He did, however, recog-
nize that one of the greatest lessons passed from Philip II of Macedonia to
his son Alexander was that military force is not the most cutting weapon
in a strategist’s arsenal.4 Alexander surely benefitted from this advice, and
such wisdom is as germane today as it was then.
In this book, we not only revisit aspects of the history of Alexander, but
also propose that many buzzwords consuming national security commu-
nities have been little more than fleeting distractions from the most con-
sequential human aspects of war and warfare. As the reader will see, the
timeless crafts of strategy and leadership also happen to be the challenges
with which modern western armies most frequently struggle. Many of the
4 Introduction

technological advances since Alexander’s time have made warfare more

complicated, not less so. We therefore focused on the broader and more
human art of leadership in these pages, as opposed to the purely military
profession of generalship emphasized by Fuller. In the parlance of military
historians, we aim to explore the cultural and social history of Alexander as
much as the operational.5
Without question, much has been written on Alexander and his cam-
paigns, and the fascination surrounding his tenure as king does not appear
to be waning.6 None of the available literature, however, views Alexander’s
story through a modern lens by highlighting the principles that defined his
reign, for better or worse, and exploring their legacy in contemporary oper-
ations. The similarities reveal striking if not troubling continuities in the
human nature of war and organizational leadership.7 Alexander’s influence
on current military and political thought is hard to overstate despite the
provocative interpretations of his character, as Chapters 11 and 13 discuss.
In this way, he has become somewhat of a Protean historical figure as he is
cast in the image of each observer’s choosing. We do not aim to reinvent
Alexander, only to reintroduce him to a world consumed by the future and
somewhat ambivalent about the past.8 With this in mind, we have identified
three principles and three pitfalls that contributed most directly to his suc-
cesses and failures, respectively. The significance of each, we argue, has not
changed over time.
Regarding principles, the professionalization of his army, a relentless
speed of action on campaign, and an inspirational physical presence char-
acterized Alexander’s success. His core pitfalls consisted of a deepening
sense of strategic ambiguity, hubris that encouraged operational over-
reach not linked to a clear grand strategy, and a centralization of power
that turned Alexander himself into Macedonia’s center of gravity (COG)
to use a Clausewitzian term.9 Despite advances in public administration,
weaponry (attacking), transportation (moving), and communications (com-
municating) since Alexander’s time, these principles and pitfalls remain
remarkably unaltered. A stubborn reliance on digital technologies to solve
what are ultimately human problems has the potential to overshadow more
urgent challenges associated with the conditions that spark and ultimately
prolong war, which we address in these pages.
Ultimately, Alexander was a flawed man and leader, as discussed in
Chapters 11 and 13, whose meteoric rise changed the course of human
events. Barry Strauss put this aptly when he observed: ‘Rarely has there
been a leader whose virtues match his vices so closely’.10 Perhaps this is
what makes Alexander great. As flawed individuals ourselves, we may see
familiar traits in him, thereby drawing inspiration that we, too, are capable
 Introduction 5

of uncommon feats and exceptional aspirations despite our common nature.

Even in failure, there is much to learn, not only from how Alexander went
about trying to arrange something so monumental, but also from under-
standing why such an imperfect man is remembered even 2,400 years later
as truly great.

On the Value of History

Beyond the need to consider Alexander’s value in the twenty-first century,
the premise of this book rests on two assumptions. The first is that the
study of military history and the ancient world will remain vital to modern
practitioners and theorists of national security, diplomacy, and leadership
no matter how technologically advanced civilizations become. The second
hypothesis, which we will address below, is that inspirational, transforma-
tive leadership is becoming scarcer when it is most needed, and poor lead-
ership dictates long-term organizational culture.11
Regarding the first assumption, Aristotle’s proverb on beginnings seems
particularly appropriate in this context, considering the Greek philosopher
had a profound influence on Alexander’s thinking: ‘In this, as in other fields,
we shall be able to study our subject best if we begin at the beginning and
consider things in the process of their growth’.12 Alexander provides much
of the historical basis from which springs modern knowledge of strategy
and statecraft, teaching us not how to wage war and conduct diplomacy, but
rather how to think about such important ideas to deter war. Much as the
British strategic theorist Colin S. Gray saw the writings of Prussian officer
Carl von Clausewitz as permanently relevant, Alexander’s place in strategic
and operational thought is cemented.13 He is thus the indispensable leader.
This brings us to the question of the practical utility of studying history
in an era when machines are rapidly surpassing their organic progenitors in
both institutional knowledge and predictive thinking. Skeptics of applied
history might suggest that the conditions under which Alexander waged his
campaign were so vastly dissimilar to modern warfare that they are of little
value to contemporary leaders. We disagree. The human condition remains
stubbornly unchanged despite great leaps in technological prowess since
the Macedonians charged their Persian enemy across the River Granicus
in 334 (see Chapter 6). History’s most instructive tales are not of things
but rather of people. The decisions made by leaders today are as driven by
human emotion and rationale as they were in ancient Greece. In his exami-
nation of wartime leadership, Andrew Roberts made this clear: ‘If you want
to know what will move the hearts and command multitudes today and in
the future, there is only one thing to do: Study the past’.14 Social scientists,
6 Introduction

historians, and strategists continue to make persuasive arguments caution-

ing against the tendency to marginalize history as a tool for leading in the
information age.15
In 1997, halfway between the United States’ two very different wars
against Iraq, military historian Williamson Murray described what he con-
sidered a disturbing trend in the U.S. Department of Defense. He believed a
declining interest in strategic studies in professional military education and
a newfound obsession with data, systems, and technological Revolutions
in Military Affairs (RMA) were obscuring the very human and quite messy
political nature of war. He argued instead for the importance of historical
continuity:16

At its heart is the presumption that the future revolution in military

affairs will be largely technological in nature. History suggests, how-
ever, that the three most important elements in virtually all past revo-
lutions in military affairs were not technological in nature, but rather
conceptual, doctrinal, and intellectual. Those military institutions in the
1920s and 1930s . . . that attempted to leap into the future without refer-
ence to what had happened in the past ended up making mistakes that
killed thousands of young men to no purpose. The success of new gadg-
ets notwithstanding, successful innovation in the past worked when it
was tied into a realistic appreciation of what was humanly possible.

Murray went on to suggest that these trends could lead to failures even
more disastrous than the Vietnam War in the twenty-first century if Amer-
ica’s leaders did not learn from past mistakes. Four years after he wrote
these words, in response to the 2001 terrorist attacks on New York City and
the Pentagon, a coalition of western military and intelligence teams entered
Afghanistan to eradicate al-Qaeda, find Osama bin Laden, and expel the
Taliban who harbored him. Army General Tommy Franks, then commander
of U.S. Central Command, contributed to the invasion plans and surmised
that the 2001 operation to remove the Taliban from Afghanistan represented
a ‘revolution in warfare’ that would be prosecuted with weapons considered
science fiction ten years prior.17
Observers marveled at the orchestra of synchronized destruction brought
forth by a skilled combination of small, specialized teams, precision muni-
tions, and close air support against a numerically and technologically infe-
rior enemy in Afghanistan. Yet the 2009 U.S. Senate Foreign Relations
Committee report on the failure to capture or kill bin Laden placed blame
on flawed assumptions regarding the utility of such weapons in the labyrin-
thine mountain ranges of Afghanistan.18 More than two decades after this
 Introduction 7

incursion, in the shadow of myriad policy changes and thousands of lives

lost, the western coalition withdrew all forces from Afghanistan, and the
Taliban once again took control of the country.
Admittedly, political calculations played as much if not more of a role
in the outcomes of recent conflicts than military decisions, so we cannot
place the blame squarely on military officers.19 Murray, however, was pro-
phetic about the propensity for technological superiority to instill hubris
and a subsequent lack of respect for historical trends in those who wield it.
Similarly, British strategist B. H. Liddell Hart wrote in the mid-twentieth
century that the lack of attention paid by universities to military history
churned out poor products in the form of officers and elected officials ill-
prepared to think deeply and broadly about strategic affairs.20 There are
modern exceptions to this rule, as we will explore in later chapters, but
RMA thinking and an obsession with emerging technologies are as perva-
sive in 2023 as they were in 1992.21
Nations such as the United States have placed RMA thought into frames
of reference focused on three strategic offsets, technological revolutions,
and generational technologies (see Chapter 4). While such concepts pro-
mote understanding, they exaggerate the impact of technology in each gen-
eration because in history books and elsewhere, epochs come to be defined
by the tools mankind used to reconcile its differences (Bronze Age, Indus-
trial Age, Digital Age, etc.). Even for some of the sharpest minds in the field
of military thought, the urge to view impressive new platforms or capabili-
ties as a means of changing war’s nature is tempting.22 Technology becomes
equated with power and power with strategic potential, thereby sidelining
old lessons, and particularly ancient ones, that emphasize the role of human
agency and culture in conflict.
Military historian Martin Van Creveld saw this trend of technophilia
gaining steam in the last decade of the twentieth century. His conclusions
lend to a deeper understanding of a human–machine paradox in which the
integration of increasingly complex and powerful machines into military
operations demands more, not less, intellectual rigor from their human
operators. With the technological power now at a soldier’s fingertips, com-
bat leadership has become a much more consequential enterprise. Creveld
explains the counterproductive pitfalls of this trade off:23

The key is that efficiency, far from being simply conducive to effec-
tiveness, can act as its opposite. Hence – and this is a point which can-
not be overemphasized – the successful use of technology in war very
often means that there is a price to be paid in terms of deliberately
diminishing efficiency.
8 Introduction

Chapters 2 and 8 address this topic in detail, demonstrating how various

technological means, while useful in theory, have at times stifled human
creativity, impeded momentum, and discouraged battlefield initiative.
Comparing Alexander’s campaigns to current challenges underscores the
need for modern militaries to strike a balance between remaining techno-
logically competitive and promoting a culture that holds the past in high
regard.
U.S. Army Gen. George C. Marshall believed that one must read Thucy-
dides to understand current events ‘with full wisdom and with deep convic-
tions’, while U.S. Marine Corps general and former Secretary of Defense
Jim Mattis saw nothing in Iraq or Afghanistan that he believes would have
surprised Alexander.24 In the age of impressive technologies such as arti-
ficial intelligence (AI), lethal autonomous weapon systems (LAWS), and
hypersonic missiles, it is tempting to discount the past as separate from
the present and therefore of little consequence to the future. While this
perspective is certainly not fresh, as we will see in Chapter 2, new theo-
ries have emboldened technocratic thinking, which begs the need to revisit
­Alexander’s story and seek a broader understanding of the factors that con-
tinue to govern war’s conduct even as the world views conflict through an
increasingly impersonal lens.

On the Nature of Leadership

The second underlying premise of this book emerges from an interpretation
of the word ‘leadership’ and its role in international affairs. At first glance,
the term appears simple – one knows it when one sees it. But the Oxford
dictionary dedicates more than an entire column to the concept of what
it means to lead and to be led, thus demonstrating the need to distinguish
between leading and leadership.25
To lead is to occupy a physical space or prominent status, such as the front
of a formation or a managerial role that involves directing actions, but we
must not mistake leadership for a job title. One might assume the physical
lead or be appointed to a prominent position without possessing any leader-
ship qualities. John Gardner put this colorfully in 1990 by pointing out that
many top officials in his country could not lead ‘seven-year-olds to the ice
cream counter’.26 For many centuries this was the norm, as imperial armies
developed a penchant for nepotism in their officer ranks. But when refer-
encing leadership, we begin to see words like ‘guidance’, ‘control’, ‘man-
agement’, and ‘supervision’ appear in the dictionary, which denotes that a
leader is a position, but leadership is a process. Gardner drew similar con-
clusions on the nature of leadership by defining it as a ‘process of persuasion
 Introduction 9

or example’ that induces others to pursue shared objectives.27 The bridge

that connects leading to leadership therefore represents a transformation
from the individual to the collective in both thought and deed, when the
leader understands that the actions of the many, far away from his watch-
ful eye, will determine success or failure as much as his own designs. To
influence others in such a way requires a culture that transcends the leader’s
physical presence, and this takes something truly unique to cultivate.
In his historical analysis of how militaries adapt and learn, Frank Hoff-
man assessed that institutional learning driven by organizational culture is
directly linked to a military’s ability to innovate and win while at war.28 Yet
both the process of learning and an organization’s culture are extensions of
the priorities established by leaders. This begs the question: are we getting
it right today? Gardner observed that the Founding Fathers of the United
States were students of the classics who read Plutarch and Thucydides and
were ‘incomparably more interested than American leaders today’ in mat-
ters of leadership.29 Nearly thirty years after Gardner made this sobering
observation, former CIA Director and U.S. Secretary of Defense Robert
Gates admitted that, still, his country is desperate for leaders.30 He went
further by attributing failures in American bureaucracies almost entirely to
short-term, unimaginative thinking among their leaders.31
Great leadership is not common, nor is it a minor contribution to a cam-
paign’s success as some have concluded; it is the factor upon which all
others are hinged, and rank or position is immaterial to its benefits.32 With
proper guidance, training, and supervision, the most junior soldier can
exhibit leadership to turn the tides of battle, but there must first exist a cul-
ture that ushers into being such initiative.33 Despite its many definitions and
various forms, the purpose of leadership in war as much as in peace is to
foster a culture that promotes collective success through individual excel-
lence – this has not changed with time. There is no doubt that Alexander
possessed exceptional traits that, like those great leaders before and since,
were unmistakable to those in his presence. Yet despite the amount of litera-
ture dedicated to examining Alexander’s exploits, most of it does not study
seriously his role as a leader of other human beings. They are operational
vice cultural histories.
The United States, United Kingdom, Australia, and France have each
emphasized the importance of people and culture in their future-oriented
strategies, which gives weight to the maxim attributed to Peter Drucker
that ‘culture eats strategy for breakfast’.34 In 2019, however, U.S. Army
Human Resources Command released a troubling report in which eighty-
four percent of the elite Green Berets polled did not believe their regiment
retained the highest quality leaders. By 2020, the U.S. First Special Forces
10 Introduction

Command acknowledged it was suffering from an identity crisis.35 Poten-

tially ‘unsustainable’ military retention shortages in the United Kingdom
prove that these problems are not isolated to specific units or countries, and
are in some ways tied to the antiquated manner in which the Ministry of
Defence selects and promotes its leaders.36 Like those of many organiza-
tions, the cause of and therefore solution to these challenges are rooted in
leadership and the interpersonal relationships that comprise an organiza-
tion’s culture.
Drucker’s adage reflects a perception shared among war’s participants
that can remain elusive to its outside observers – increasingly so in an age
of awe-inspiring gadgets. Advanced technologies will, in time, change the
way governments conduct business. But culture defines an organization’s
ability to employ those tools coherently and achieve desirable strategic
effects, particularly in the chaos of war. Numerous scholars and senior
government officials have reached this conclusion, but abstract concepts
such as culture and leadership fail to capture the imagination – or the purse
strings of governments for that matter – as completely as shiny things.37
Part of this distraction from studying leadership and organizational cul-
ture stems from the reality that, in the current age, the ‘things’ are shinier
than ever.38
Concepts ranging from biotechnology to machine learning and directed
energy weapons are framed as the key to the future of strategic deterrence
and conflict resolution. Billions of dollars have been spent on defense con-
tracts, countless articles and books on the revolutionary potential of mili-
tary technology have been written, and national strategies are filled with
mandates to gain and maintain a technological edge. One might say that
the culture of technology is unavoidable in the twenty-first century, even
as governments scramble to find and retain leaders capable of wrangling
its complexity. Thomas Ricks, Anthony King, and Jim Storr have gone so
far as arguing that the western world, and specifically its military vein,
suffers from a leadership crisis.39 The practice of leading is founded in per-
sonal interactions and relationships, which means a culture of technology
increases the risk of losing sight of what inspires the people who bring
teams together and make them thrive. Alexander’s failures and victories
placed in historical context – timeless as they are – can help bring us back
to reality.
Leadership, of course, means different things to different people under
different circumstances. Leading a Fortune 500 company requires a certain
type of leadership that may not be as effective in political office or a mili-
tary command position. Because of its largely esoteric qualities, many have
attempted to capture the essence of leadership and package it for future
 Introduction 11

generations, from ancient writers like Plutarch in his Precepts of Statecraft

(who bade those seeking political office to get their own house in order
before they sought to rearrange citizens’ affairs) to historians and psychol-
ogists such as Ralph Stogdill and Thomas Carlyle.40 While the contribu-
tions of the latter scholars are valuable, this work addresses leadership as
a practice, specifically the kind that guides large organizations comprised
of statespersons and warriors. We thus lean heavily on those who have put
their leadership theories to practice at war where they are measured most
arduously.
Napoleon interpreted wartime leadership as more of an inborn vision
that could never be diluted into a ‘real science’, while more modern leaders,
such as Gen. Stanley McChrystal, have argued that leadership is primarily
a game of luck related to whom and what the leader is entrusted to lead.41
Samuel Huntington and Williamson Murray profess that the modern mili-
tary profession emerged in the post-Napoleonic era out of the apparent need
to cultivate the natural genius of Napoleon through formal study.42 These
outlooks speak to the nature-versus-nurture dialectic surrounding leader-
ship studies. Certainly Alexander, who benefitted from a brilliant mind and
a well-trained army inherited from his father, would identify with both.
Although interpretations of leadership and its impact remain diverse,
there is no debate over the deleterious effects of poor leaders. If this is true,
then there must be common traits in history’s most influential leaders worth
examining, such as the ability to think creatively or even controversially, a
willingness to challenge the status quo, and an insatiable hunger for knowl-
edge. They nearly all had a knack for inspiring a productive organizational
culture through leadership by example and a physical presence that encour-
aged trust. This has been and will continue to be a mounting challenge in
an age when digital relationships have largely supplanted personal ones.43

A Legacy in Context
When examining accomplishments as renowned as Alexander’s, it is
easy to forget that he was but one man. Despite his military genius, his
success was based equally on the individual actions of countless hop-
lites, subordinate commanders, and cavalrymen under his command, all
making decisions based on a shared understanding of Alexander’s goals
and a faith in his ability to make sound decisions. These elements com-
prised a culture of excellence nurtured by Alexander so powerful that
when pushed to their human limits against intractable foes, his men muti-
nied in frustration yet never imagined they could be led by a different
king. Alexander’s story reinforces Xenophon’s depiction of leadership
12 Introduction

as a matter of trust and persuasion, which is equally relevant to leaders

today.44 In an age of remarkable weapons and rising political instabil-
ity, it is incumbent upon twenty-first century leaders to understand the
power of leadership and, as Andrew Roberts wrote, direct that power
towards doing good.45
Murray has said that ‘useful history is also difficult history, and learn-
ing from it takes serious work’.46 This book contributes to that work and
describes how Alexander built and led a culturally diverse army that nearly
conquered the world in the face of a seemingly insurmountable opponent.
We capture these lessons in a thematic presentation that places Alexander’s
story within the context of modern challenges that appear new but bear
striking resemblance to those of the past. Part I addresses environmental
and conceptual factors of Alexander’s world and our own, before moving
onto Part II and looking at technological and organizational considerations,
such as innovation and training. Part III examines tactical and operational
warfighting by juxtaposing principles of Alexander’s Persian campaign to
recent conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. As the Macedonian army moves
further east into India, Part IV explores the social and cultural challenges
of expeditionary warfare, before concluding with an analysis of the human
domains of generalship and grand strategy in Part V. To present Alexander’s
period as a historical bookend to the present, modern chapters deal primar-
ily with noteworthy figures, events, and assumptions surrounding major
military operations since the mid-twentieth century in the regions through
which Alexander marched his army. At its core, this book is a treatise on
the enduring nature of war and the way leaders have navigated and might
continue to navigate its contours.
Alexander’s story is not prescriptive for twenty-first century challenges.
If it were, the strategic conundrums of our time would not be so perplex-
ing. Intellectual canyons exist between recognizing historical relevance and
developing sound strategy – more so about making sound tactical deci-
sions in battle.47 But, we hope readers will see that the first step in achiev-
ing a clearer vision of the future is recognizing not only the type of logic
that has worked but also the root causes of flawed logic. Making sense of
an increasingly interconnected world demands an ever deeper and broader
understanding of the events that brought us to this point and the social
mechanisms that continue to shape the present. Thus, we argue that the
impact of material developments on war will continue to be exaggerated in
the coming years. Conversely, the study of personalities, intangible quali-
ties, and war’s nature will increase. As Eisenhower wrote in 1942, the real
job of a commander – and by extension any leader charged with building
teams – is finding the right people.48
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 THE PENNY-WEDDING.

By Alex. Campbell.

If any of our readers have ever seen a Scottish penny-wedding,

they will agree with us, we daresay, that it is a very merry affair, and
that its mirth and hilarity is not a whit the worse for its being, as it
generally is, very homely and unsophisticated. The penny-wedding is
not quite so splendid an affair as a ball at Almack’s; but, from all we
have heard and read of these aristocratic exhibitions, we for our own
parts would have little hesitation about our preference, and what is
more, we are quite willing to accept the imputation of having a
horrid bad taste.
It is very well known to those who know anything at all of penny-
weddings, that, when a farmer’s servant is about to be married—such
an occurrence being the usual, or, at least, the most frequent
occasion of these festivities—all the neighbouring farmers, with their
servants, and sometimes their sons and daughters, are invited to the
ceremony; and to those who know this, it is also known that the
farmers so invited are in the habit of contributing each something to
the general stock of good things provided for the entertainment of
the wedding guests—some sending one thing and some another, till
materials are accumulated for a feast, which, both for quantity and
quality, would extort praise from Dr Kitchener himself, than whom
no man ever knew better what good living was. To all this a little
money is added by the parties present, to enable the young couple to
plenish their little domicile.
Having given this brief sketch of what is called a penny-wedding,
we proceed to say that such a merry doing as this took place, as it had
done a thousand times before, in a certain parish (we dare not be
more particular) in the south of Scotland, about five-and-twenty
years ago. The parties—we name them, although it is of no
consequence to our story—were Andrew Jardine and Margaret Laird,
both servants to a respectable farmer in that part of the country of
the name of Harrison, and both very deserving and well-doing
persons.
On the wedding-day being fixed, Andrew went himself to engage
the services of blind Willie Hodge, the parish fiddler, as he might
with all propriety be called, for the happy occasion; and Willie very
readily agreed to attend gratuitously, adding, that he would bring his
best fiddle along with him, together with an ample supply of fiddle-
strings and rosin.
“An’ a wee bit box o’ elbow grease, Willie,” said Andrew, slily; “for
ye’ll hae gude aught hours o’t, at the very least.”
“I’ll be sure to bring that too, Andrew,” replied Willie, laughing;
“but it’s no aught hours that’ll ding me, I warrant. I hae played
saxteen without stoppin, except to rosit.”
“And to weet your whistle,” slipped in Andrew.
“Pho, that wasna worth coontin. It was just a mouthfu’ and at it
again,” said Willie. “I just tak, Andrew,” he went on, “precisely the
time o’ a demisemiquaver to a tumbler o’ cauld liquor, such as porter
or ale; and twa minims or four crochets to a tumbler o’ het drink,
such as toddy; for the first, ye see, I can tak aff at jig time, but the
other can only get through wi’ at the rate o’ ‘Roslin Castle,’ or the
‘Dead March in Saul,’ especially when its brought to me scadding het,
whilk sude never be done to a fiddler.”
Now, as to this very nice chromatic measurement by Willie, of the
time consumed in his potations, while in the exercise of his calling,
we have nothing to say. It may be perfectly correct for aught we
know; but when Willie said that he played at one sitting, and with
only the stoppages he mentioned, for sixteen hours, we rather think
he was drawing fully a longer bow than that he usually played with.
At all events, this we know, that Willie was a very indifferent, if not
positively a very bad fiddler; but he was a good-humoured creature,
harmless and inoffensive, and, moreover, the only one of his calling
in the parish, so that he was fully as much indebted to the necessities
of his customers for the employment he obtained, as to their love or
charity.
The happy day which was to see the humble destinies of Andrew
Jardine and Margaret Laird united having arrived, Willie attired
himself in his best, popped his best fiddle—which was, after all, but a
very sober article, having no more tone than a salt-box—into a green
bag, slipped the instrument thus secured beneath the back of his
coat, and proceeded towards the scene of his impending labours.
This was a large barn, which had been carefully swept and levelled
for the “light fantastic toes” of some score of ploughmen and
dairymaids, not formed exactly after the Chinese fashion. At the
further end of the barn stood a sort of platform, erected on a couple
of empty herring-barrels; and on this again a chair was placed. This
distinguished situation, we need hardly say, was designed for Willie,
who from that elevated position was to pour down his heel-inspiring
strains amongst the revellers below. When Willie, however, came
first upon the ground, the marriage party had not yet arrived. They
were still at the manse, which was hard by, but were every minute
expected. In these circumstances, and it being a fine summer
afternoon, Willie seated himself on a stone at the door, drew forth
his fiddle, and struck up with great vigour and animation, to the
infinite delight of some half-dozen of the wedding guests, who, not
having gone with the others to the manse, were now, like himself,
waiting their arrival. These immediately commenced footing it to
Willie’s music on the green before the door, and thus presented a
very appropriate prelude to the coming festivities of the evening.
While Willie was thus engaged, an itinerant brother in trade, on
the look-out for employment, and who had heard of the wedding,
suddenly appeared, and stealing up quietly beside him, modestly
undid the mouth of his fiddle-bag, laid the neck of the instrument
bare, and drew his thumb carelessly across the strings, to intimate to
him that a rival was near his throne. On hearing the sound of the
instrument, Willie stopped short.
“I doubt, frien, ye hae come to the wrang market,” he said,
guessing at once the object of the stranger. “An’ ye hae been travellin
too, I daresay?” he continued, good-naturedly, and not at all
offended with the intruder, for whom and all of his kind he
entertained a fellow feeling.
 “Ay,” replied the new Orpheus, who was a tall, good-looking man
of about eight-and-twenty years of age, but very poorly attired, “I hae
been travellin, as ye say, neebor, an’ hae came twa or three miles out
o’ my way to see if I could pick up a shilling or twa at this weddin.”
“I am sorry now, man, for that,” said Willie, sympathisingly. “I
doot ye’ll be disappointed, for I hae been engaged for’t this fortnight
past. But I’ll tell ye what: if ye’re onything guid o’ the fiddle, ye may
remain, jist to relieve me now an’ then, an’ I’ll mind ye when a’s
ower; an’ at ony rate ye’ll aye pick up a mouthfu’ o’ guid meat and
drink—an’ that ye ken’s no to be fand at every dyke-side.”
“A bargain be’t,” said the stranger, “an’ much obliged to you, frien.
I maun just tak pat-luck and be thankfu. But isna your waddin folks
lang o’ comin?” he added.
“They’ll be here belyve,” replied Willie, and added, “Ye’ll no be
blin, frien?”
“Ou, no,” said the stranger; “thank goodness I hae my sight; but I
am otherwise in such a bad state o’ health, that I canna work, and am
obliged to tak the fiddle for a subsistence.”
While this conversation was going on, the wedding folks were seen
dropping out of the manse in twos and threes, and making straight
for the scene of the evening’s festivities, where they all very soon
after assembled. Ample justice having been done to all the good
things that were now set before the merry party, and Willie and his
colleague having had their share, and being thus put in excellent trim
for entering on their labours, the place was cleared of all
encumbrances, and a fair and open field left for the dancers. At this
stage of the proceedings, Willie was led by his colleague to his
station, and helped up to the elevated chair which had been provided
for him, when the latter handed him his instrument, while he himself
took up his position, fiddle in hand, on his principal’s left, but
standing on the ground, as there was no room for him on the
platform.
Everything being now ready, and the expectant couples ranged in
their respective places on the floor, Willie was called upon to begin,
an order which he instantly obeyed by opening in great style.
On the conclusion of the first reel, in the musical department of
which the strange fiddler had not interfered, the latter whispered to
his coadjutor, that if he liked he would relieve him for the next.
“Weel,” replied the latter, “if ye think ye can gae through wi’t
onything decently, ye may try your hand.”
“I’ll no promise much,” said the stranger, now for the first time
drawing his fiddle out of its bag; “but, for the credit o’ the craft, I’ll
do the best I can.”
Having said this, Willie’s colleague drew his bow across the strings
of his fiddle, with a preparatory flourish, when instantly every face in
the apartment was turned towards him with an expression of delight
and surprise. The tones of the fiddle were so immeasurably superior
to those of poor Willie’s salt-box, that the dullest and most
indiscriminating ear amongst the revellers readily distinguished the
amazing difference. But infinitely greater still was their surprise and
delight when the stranger began to play. Nothing could exceed the
energy, accuracy, and beauty of his performances. He was, in short,
evidently a perfect master of the instrument, and this was instantly
perceived and acknowledged by all, including Willie himself, who
declared, with great candour and goodwill, that he had never heard a
better fiddler in his life.
The result of this discovery was, that the former was not allowed to
lift a bow during the remainder of the night, the whole burden of its
labours being deposited on the shoulders, or perhaps we should
rather say the finger-ends, of the stranger, who fiddled away with an
apparently invincible elbow.
For several hours the dance went on without interruption, and
without any apparent abatement whatever of vigour on the part of
the performers; but, at the end of this period, some symptoms of
exhaustion began to manifest themselves, which were at length fully
declared by a temporary cessation of both the mirth and music.
It was at this interval in the revelries that the unknown fiddler,
who had been, by the unanimous voice of the party, installed in
Willie’s elevated chair, while the latter was reduced to his place on
the floor, stretching himself over the platform, and tapping Willie on
the hat with his bow, to draw his attention, inquired of him, in a
whisper, if he knew who the lively little girl was that had been one of
the partners in the last reel that had been danced.
 “Is she a bit red-cheeked, dark-ee’d, and dark-haired lassie, about
nineteen or twenty?” inquired Willie, in his turn.
“The same,” replied the fiddler.
“Ou, that’s Jeanie Harrison,” said Willie, “a kind-hearted, nice bit
lassie. No a better nor a bonnier in a’ the parish. She’s a dochter o’
Mr Harrison o’ Todshaws, the young couple’s maister, an’ a very
respectable man. He’s here himsel, too, amang the lave.”
“Just so,” replied his colleague. And he began to rosin his bow, and
to screw his pegs anew, to prepare for the second storm of
merriment, which he saw gathering, and threatening to burst upon
him with increased fury. Amongst the first on the floor was Jeanie
Harrison.
“Is there naebody’ll tak me out for a reel?” exclaimed the lively girl;
and without waiting for an answer, “Weel, then, I’ll hae the fiddler.”
And she ran towards the platform on which the unknown performer
was seated. But he did not wait her coming. He had heard her name
her choice, laid down his fiddle, and sprang to the floor with the
agility of a harlequin, exclaiming, “Thank ye, my bonny lassie, thank
ye for the honour. I’m your man at a moment’s notice, either for feet
or fiddle.”
It is not quite certain that Jeanie was in perfect earnest when she
made choice of the musician for a partner, but it was now too late to
retract, for the joke had taken with the company, and, with one voice,
or rather shout, they insisted on her keeping faithful to her
engagement, and dancing a reel with the fiddler; and on this no one
insisted more stoutly than the fiddler himself. Finding that she could
do no better, the good-natured girl put the best face on the frolic she
could, and prepared to do her partner every justice in the dance.
Willie having now taken bow in hand, his colleague gave him the
word of command, and away the dancers went like meteors; and here
again the surprise of the party was greatly excited by the
performances of our friend the fiddler, who danced as well as he
played. To say merely that he far surpassed all in the room would
not, perhaps, be saying much; for there were none of them very great
adepts in the art. But, in truth, he danced with singular grace and
lightness, and much did those who witnessed it marvel at the display.
Neither was his bow to his partner, nor his manner of conducting her
to her seat on the conclusion of the reel, less remarkable. It was
distinguished by an air of refined gallantry certainly not often to be
met with in those in his humble station in life. He might have been a
master of ceremonies; and where the beggarly-looking fiddler had
picked up these accomplishments every one found it difficult to
conjecture.
On the termination of the dance, the fiddler—as we shall call him,
par excellence, and to distinguish him from Willie—resumed his seat
and his fiddle, and began to drive away with even more than his
former spirit; but it was observed by more than one that his eye was
now almost constantly fixed, for the remainder of the evening, as,
indeed, it had been very frequently before, on his late partner, Jeanie
Harrison. This circumstance, however, did not prevent him giving
every satisfaction to those who danced to his music, nor did it in the
least impair the spirit of his performances; for he was evidently too
much practised in the use of the instrument, which he managed with
such consummate skill, to be put out, either by the contemplation of
any chance object which might present itself, or by the vagaries of his
imagination.
Leaving our musician in the discharge of his duty, we shall step
over to where Jeanie Harrison is seated, to learn what she thinks of
her partner, and what the Misses Murray, the daughters of a
neighbouring farmer, between whom she sat, think of him, and of
Jeanie having danced with a fiddler.
Premising that the Misses Murray, not being by any means
beauties themselves, entertained a very reasonable and justifiable
dislike and jealousy of all their own sex to whom nature had been
more bountiful in this particular; and finding, moreover, that, from
their excessively bad tempers (this, however, of course, not admitted
by the ladies themselves), they could neither practise nor share in the
amenities which usually mark the intercourse of the sexes, they had
set up for connoisseurs in the articles of propriety and decorum, of
which they professed to be profound judges—premising this, then,
we proceed to quote the conversation that passed between the three
ladies—that is, the Misses Murray and Miss Harrison; the latter
taking her seat between them after dancing with the fiddler.
“My certy!” exclaimed the elder, with a very dignified toss of the
head, “ye warna nice, Jeanie, to dance wi’ a fiddler. I wad hae been
very ill aff, indeed, for a partner before I wad hae taen up wi’ such a
ragamuffin.”
“An’ to go an’ ask him too!” said the younger, with an imitative
toss. “I wadna ask the best man in the land to dance wi’ me, let alane
a fiddler! If they dinna choose to come o’ their ain accord, they may
stay.”
“Tuts, lassies, it was a’ a piece o’ fun,” said the good-humoured
girl. “I’m sure everybody saw that but yersels. Besides, the man’s well
aneugh—na, a gude deal mair than that, if he was only a wee better
clad. There’s no a better-lookin man in the room; and I wish, lassies,”
she added, “ye may get as guid dancers in your partners—that’s a’.”
“Umph! a bonny like taste ye hae, Jeanie, an’ a very strange notion
o’ propriety!” exclaimed the elder, with another toss of the head.
“To dance wi’ a fiddler!” simpered out the younger—who, by the
way, was no chicken either, being but a trifle on the right side of
thirty.
“Ay, to be sure, dance wi’ a fiddler or a piper either. I’ll dance wi’
baith o’ them—an’ what for no?” replied Jeanie. “There’s neither sin
nor shame in’t; and I’ll dance wi’ him again, if he’ll only but ask me.”
“An’ faith he’ll do that wi’ a’ the pleasure in the warld, my bonny
lassie,” quoth the intrepid fiddler, leaping down once more from his
high place; for, there having been a cessation of both music and
dancing while the conversation above recorded was going on, he had
heard every word of it. “Wi’ a’ the pleasure in the warld,” he said,
advancing towards Jeanie Harrison, and making one of his best bows
of invitation; and again a shout of approbation from the company
urged Jeanie to accept it, which she readily did, at once to gratify her
friends and to provoke the Misses Murray.
Having accordingly taken her place on the floor, and other couples
having been mustered for the set, Jeanie’s partner again called on
Willie to strike up; again the dancers started, and again the fiddler
astonished and delighted the company with the grace and elegance of
his performances. On this occasion, however, the unknown
musician’s predilection for his fair partner exhibited a more
unequivocal character; and he even ventured to inquire if he might
call at her father’s, to amuse the family for an hour or so with his
fiddle.
 “Nae objection in the warld,” replied Jeanie. “Come as aften as ye
like; and the aftener the better, if ye only bring yer fiddle wi’ ye, for
we’re a’ fond o’ music.”
“A bargain be’t,” said the gallant fiddler; and, at the conclusion of
the reel, he again resumed his place on the platform and his fiddle.
“Time and the hour,” says Shakspeare, “will wear through the
roughest day;” and so they will, also, through the merriest night, as
the joyous party of whom we are speaking now soon found.
Exhaustion and lassitude, though long defied, finally triumphed;
and even the very candles seemed wearied of giving light; and, under
the influence of these mirth-destroying feelings, the party at length
broke up, and all departed, excepting the two fiddlers.
These worthies now adjourned to a public-house, which was close
by, and set very gravely about settling what was to them the serious
business of the evening. Willie had received thirty-one shillings as
payment in full for their united labours; and, in consideration of the
large and unexpected portion of them which had fallen to the
stranger’s share, he generously determined, notwithstanding that he
was the principal party, as having been the first engaged, to give him
precisely the one-half of the money, or fifteen shillings and sixpence.
“Very fair,” said the stranger, on this being announced to him by
his brother in trade—“very fair; but what would ye think of our
drinking the odd sixpences?”
“Wi’ a’ my heart,” replied Willie, “wi’ a’ my heart. A very guid
notion.”
And a jug of toddy, to the value of one shilling, was accordingly
ordered and produced, over which the two got as thick as ben-
leather.
“Ye’re a guid fiddler—I’ll say that o’ ye,” quoth Willie, after tossing
down the first glass of the warm, exhilarating beverage. “I would
never wish to hear a better.”
“I have had some practice,” said the other modestly, and at the
same time following his companion’s example with his glass.
“Nae doot, nae doot, sae’s seen on your playin,” replied the latter.
“How do you fend wi’ yer fiddle? Do ye mak onything o’ a guid leevin
o’t?”
 “No that ill ava,” said the stranger. “I play for the auld leddy at the
castle—Castle Gowan, ye ken; indeed, I’m sometimes ca’d the leddy’s
fiddler, and she’s uncommon guid to me. I neither want bite nor
sowp when I gang there.”
“That’s sae far weel,” replied Willie. “She’s a guid judge o’ music
that Leddy Gowan, as I hear them say; and I’m tauld her son, Sir
John, plays a capital bow.”
“No amiss, I believe,” said the stranger; “but the leddy, as ye say, is
an excellent judge o’ music, although whiles, I think, rather ower
fond o’t, for she maks me play for hours thegither, when I wad far
rather be wi’ Tam Yule, her butler, a sonsy, guid-natured chiel, that’s
no sweer o’ the cap. But, speaking o’ that, I’ll tell ye what, frien,” he
continued, “if ye’ll come up to Castle Gowan ony day, I’ll be blithe to
see you, for I’m there at least ance every day, and I’ll warrant ye—for
ye see I can use every liberty there—in a guid het dinner, an’ a jug o’
hetter toddy to wash it ower wi’.”
“A bargain be’t,” quoth Willie; “will the morn do?”
“Perfectly,” said the stranger; “the sooner the better.”
This settled, Willie proceeded to a subject which had been for
some time near his heart, but which he felt some delicacy in
broaching. This feeling, however, having gradually given way before
the influence of the toddy, and of his friend’s frank and jovial
manner, he at length ventured, though cautiously, to step on the ice.
“That’s an uncommon guid instrument o’ yours, frien,” he said.
“Very good,” replied his companion, briefly.
“But ye’ll hae mair than that ane, nae doot?” rejoined the other.
“I hae ither twa.”
“In that case,” said Willie, “maybe ye wad hae nae objection to
pairt wi’ that ane, an’ the price offered ye wur a’ the mair temptin. I’ll
gie ye the fifteen shillins I hae won the nicht, an’ my fiddle, for’t.”
“Thank ye, frien, thank ye for your offer,” replied the stranger; “but
I daurna accept o’t, though I war willin. The fiddle was gien to me by
Leddy Gowan, and I daurna pairt wi’t. She wad miss’t, and then there
would be the deevil to pay.”
“Oh, an’ that’s the case,” said Willie, “I’ll sae nae mair aboot it; but
it’s a first-rate fiddle—sae guid a ane, that it micht amaist play the
lane o’t.”
It being now very late, or rather early, and the toddy jug emptied,
the blind fiddler and his friend parted, on the understanding,
however, that the former would visit the latter at the castle (whither
he was now going, he said, to seek a night’s quarters) on the
following day.
True to his appointment, Willie appeared next day at Gowan
House, or Castle Gowan, as it was more generally called, and
inquired for “the fiddler.” His inquiry was met with great civility and
politeness by the footman who opened the door. He was told “the
fiddler” was there, and desired to walk in. Obeying the invitation,
Willie, conducted by the footman, entered a spacious apartment,
where he was soon afterwards entertained with a sumptuous dinner,
in which his friend the fiddler joined him.
“My word, neighbour,” said Willie, after having made a hearty
meal of the good things that were set before him, and having drank
in proportion, “but ye’re in noble quarters here. This is truly fiddlin
to some purpose, an’ treatin the art as it ought to be treated in the
persons o’ its professors. But what,” he added, “if Sir John should
come in upon us? He wadna like maybe a’ thegither to see a stranger
wi’ ye?”
“Deil a bodle I care for Sir John, Willie! He’s but a wild harum-
scarum throughither chap at the best, an’ no muckle to be heeded.”
“Ay, he’s fond o’ a frolic, they tell me,” quoth Willie; “an’ there’s a
heap o’ gie queer anes laid to his charge, whether they be true or no;
but his heart’s in the richt place, I’m thinkin, for a’ that. I’ve heard o’
mony guid turns he has dune.”
“Ou, he’s no a bad chiel, on the whole, I daresay,” replied Willie’s
companion. “His bark’s waur than his bite—an’ that’s mair than can
be said o’ a rat-trap, at ony rate.”
It was about this period, and then for the first time, that certain
strange and vague suspicions suddenly entered Willie’s mind
regarding his entertainer. He had remarked that the latter gave his
orders with an air of authority which he thought scarcely becoming
in one who occupied the humble situation of “the lady’s fiddler;” but,
singular as this appeared to him, the alacrity and silence with which
these orders were obeyed, was to poor Willie still more
unaccountable. He said nothing, however; but much did he marvel at
the singular good fortune of his brother-in-trade. He had never
known a fiddler so quartered before; and, lost in admiration of his
friend’s felicity, he was about again to express his ideas on the
subject, when a servant in splendid livery entered the room, and
bowing respectfully, said, “The carriage waits you, Sir John.”
“I will be with you presently, Thomas,” replied who? inquires the
reader.
Why, Willie’s companion!
What! is he then Sir John Gowan—he, the fiddler at the penny-
wedding, Sir John Gowan of Castle Gowan, the most extensive
proprietor and the wealthiest man in the county?
The same and no other, good reader, we assure thee.
A great lover of frolic, as he himself said, was Sir John; and this
was one of the pranks in which he delighted. He was an enthusiastic
fiddler; and, as has been already shown, performed with singular
skill on that most difficult, but most delightful, of all musical
instruments.
We will not attempt to describe poor Willie’s amazement and
confusion when this singular fact became known to him; for they are
indescribable, and therefore better left to the reader’s imagination.
On recovering a little from his surprise, however, he endeavoured to
express his astonishment in such broken sentences as these—“Wha
in earth wad hae ever dreamed o’t? Rosit an’ fiddle-strings!—this
beats a’. Faith, a’n I’ve been fairly taen in—clean dune for. A knight o’
the shire to play at a penny-waddin wi’ blin Willie Hodge the fiddler!
The like was ne’er heard tell o’.”
As it is unnecessary, and would certainly be tedious, to protract the
scene at this particular point in our story, we cut it short by saying,
that Sir John presented Willie with the fiddle he had so much
coveted, and which he had vainly endeavoured to purchase; that he
then told down to him the half of the proceeds of the previous night’s
labours which he had pocketed, added a handsome douceur from his
own purse, and finally dismissed him with a pressing and cordial
invitation to visit the castle as often as it suited his inclination and
convenience.
 Having arrived at this landing-place in our tale, we pause to
explain one or two things, which is necessary for the full elucidation
of the sequel. With regard to Sir John Gowan himself, there is little
to add to what has been already said of him; for, brief though these
notices of him are, they contain nearly all that the reader need care
to know about him. He was addicted to such pranks as that just
recorded; but this, if it was a defect in his character, was the only
one. For the rest, he was an excellent young man—kind, generous,
and affable; of the strictest honour, and the most upright principles.
He was, moreover, an exceedingly handsome man, and highly
accomplished. At this period, he was unmarried, and lived with his
mother, Lady Gowan, to whom he was most affectionately attached.
Sir John had, at one time, mingled a good deal with the fashionable
society of the metropolis; but soon became disgusted with the
heartlessness of those who composed it, and with the frivolity of their
pursuits; and in this frame of mind he came to the resolution of
retiring to his estate, and of giving himself up entirely to the quiet
enjoyments of a country life, and the pleasing duties which his
position as a large landed proprietor entailed upon him.
Simple in all his tastes and habits, Sir John had been unable to
discover, in any of the manufactured beauties to whom he had been,
from time to time, introduced while he resided in London, one to
whom he could think of intrusting his happiness. The wife he desired
was one fresh from the hand of nature, not one remodelled by the
square and rule of art; and such a one he thought he had found
during his adventure of the previous night.
Bringing this digression, which we may liken to an interlude, to a
close, we again draw up the curtain, and open the second act of our
little drama with an exhibition of the residence of Mr Harrison at
Todshaws.
The house or farm-steading of this worthy person was of the very
best description of such establishments. The building itself was
substantial, nay, even handsome, while the excellent garden which
was attached to it, and all the other accessories and appurtenances
with which it was surrounded, indicated wealth and comfort. Its
situation was on the summit of a gentle eminence that sloped down
in front to a noisy little rivulet, that careered along through a narrow
rugged glen overhanging with hazel, till it came nearly opposite the
house, where it wound through an open plat of green sward, and
shortly after again plunged into another little romantic ravine similar
to the one it had left.
The approach to Mr Harrison’s house lay along this little rivulet,
and was commanded, for a considerable distance, by the view from
the former—a circumstance which enabled Jeanie Harrison to
descry, one fine summer afternoon, two or three days after the
occurrence of the events just related, the approach of the fiddler with
whom she had danced at the wedding. On making this discovery,
Jeanie ran to announce the joyful intelligence to all the other
members of the family, and the prospect of a merry dancing
afternoon opened on the delighted eyes of its younger branches.
When the fiddler—with whose identity the reader is now as well
acquainted as we are—had reached the bottom of the ascent that led
to the house, Jeanie, with excessive joy beaming in her bright and
expressive eye, and her cheek glowing with the roseate hues of
health, rushed down to meet him, and to welcome him to Todshaws.
“Thank ye, my bonny lassie—thank ye,” replied the disguised
baronet, expressing himself in character, and speaking the language
of his assumed station. “Are ye ready for anither dance?”
“Oh, a score o’ them—a thousand o’ them,” said the lively girl.
“But will your faither, think ye, hae nae objections to my comin?”
inquired the fiddler.
“Nane in the warld. My faither is nane o’ your sour carles that wad
deny ither folk the pleasures they canna enjoy themsels. He likes to
see a’body happy around him—every ane his ain way.”
“An’ your mother?”
“Jist the same. Ye’ll find her waur to fiddle doun than ony o’ us.
She’ll dance as lang’s a string hauds o’t.”
“Then, I may be quite at my ease,” rejoined Sir John.
“Quite so,” replied Jeanie—and she slipped half-a-crown into his
hand—“and there’s your arles; but ye’ll be minded better ere ye leave
us.”
“My word, no an ill beginnin,” quoth the musician, looking with
well-affected delight at the coin, and afterwards putting it carefully
into his pocket. “But ye could hae gien me a far mair acceptable arles
than half-a-crown,” he added, “and no been a penny the poorer
either.”
“What’s that?” said Jeanie, laughing and blushing at the same
time, and more than half guessing, from the looks of the pawky
fiddler, what was meant.
“Why, my bonny leddie,” he replied, “jist a kiss o’ that pretty little
mou o’ yours.”
“Oh, ye gowk!” exclaimed Jeanie, with a roguish glance at her
humble gallant; for, disguised as he was, he was not able to conceal a
very handsome person, nor the very agreeable expression of a set of
remarkably fine features—qualities which did not escape the
vigilance of the female eye that was now scanning their possessor.
Nor would we say that these qualities were viewed with total
indifference, or without producing their effect, even although they
did belong to a fiddler.
“Oh, ye gowk!” said Jeanie; “wha ever heard o’ a fiddler preferring
a kiss to half-a-crown?”
“But I do, though,” replied the disguised knight; “and I’ll gie ye
yours back again for’t.”
“The mair fule you,” exclaimed Jeanie, rushing away towards the
house, and leaving the fiddler to make out the remainder of the way
by himself.
On reaching the house, the musician was ushered into the kitchen,
where a plentiful repast was instantly set before him, by the kind and
considerate hospitality of Jeanie, who, not contented with her guest’s
making a hearty meal at table, insisted on his pocketing certain
pieces of cheese, cold meat, &c., which were left. These the fiddler
steadily refused; but Jeanie would take no denial, and with her own
hands crammed them into his capacious pockets, which, after the
operation, stuck out like a well-filled pair of saddle-bags. But there
was no need for any one who might be curious to know what they
contained, to look into them for that purpose. Certain projecting
bones of mutton and beef, which it was found impossible to get
altogether out of sight, sufficiently indicated their contents. Of this
particular circumstance, however—we mean the projection of the
bones from the pockets—we must observe, the owner of the said
pockets was not aware, otherwise, we daresay, he would have been a
little more positive in rejecting the provender which Jeanie’s
warmheartedness and benevolence had forced upon him.
Be this as it may, however, so soon as the musician had finished
his repast, he took fiddle in hand, and opened the evening with a
slow pathetic Scottish air, which he played so exquisitely that
Jeanie’s eye filled with a tear, as she listened in raptures to the sweet
but melancholy turns of the affecting tune.
Twice the musician played over the touching strain, delighted to
perceive the effects of the music on the lovely girl who stood before
him, and rightly conceiving it to be an unequivocal proof of a
susceptible heart and of a generous nature.
A third time he began the beautiful air; but he now accompanied it
with a song, and in this accomplishment he was no less perfect than
in the others which have been already attributed to him. His voice
was at once manly and melodious, and he conducted it with a skill
that did it every justice. Having played two or three bars of the tune,
his rich and well-regulated voice chimed in with the following words:
—
Oh, I hae lived wi’ high-bred dames,
Each state of life to prove,
But never till this hour hae met
The girl that I could love.

It’s no in fashion’s gilded ha’s

That she is to be seen;
Beneath her father’s humble roof
Abides my bonny Jean.

Oh, wad she deign ae thought to wair,

Ae kindly thought on me,
Wi’ pearls I wad deck her hair,
Though low be my degree.

Wi’ pearls I wad deck her hair,

Wi’ gowd her wrists sae sma’;
An’ had I lands and houses, she’d
Be leddy ower them a’.

The sun abune’s no what he seems,

Nor is the night’s fair queen;
Then wha kens wha the minstrel is
 That’s wooin bonny Jean?

Jeanie could not help feeling a little strange as the minstrel

proceeded with a song which seemed to have so close a reference to
herself.
She, of course, did not consider this circumstance otherwise than
as merely accidental; but she could not help, nevertheless, being
somewhat embarrassed by it; and this was made sufficiently evident
by the blush that mantled on her cheek, and by the confusion of her
manner under the fixed gaze of the singer, while repeating the verses
just quoted.
When he had concluded, “Well, good folks all,” he said, “what
think ye of my song?” And without waiting for an answer, about
which he seemed very indifferent, he added, “and how do you like it,
Jeanie?” directing the question exclusively to the party he named.
“Very weel,” replied Jeanie, again blushing, but still more deeply
than before; “the song is pretty, an’ the air delightfu’; but some o’ the
verses are riddles to me. I dinna thoroughly understand them.”
“Don’t you?” replied Sir John, laughing; “then I’ll explain them to
you by-and-by; but, in the meantime, I must screw my pegs anew,
and work for my dinner, for I see the good folk about me here are all
impatience to begin.” A fact this which was instantly acknowledged
by a dozen voices; and straightway the whole party proceeded, in
compliance with a suggestion of Mr Harrison, to the green in front of
the house, where Sir John took up his position on the top of an
inverted wheelbarrow, and immediately commenced his labours.
For several hours the dance went on with uninterrupted glee, old
Mr Harrison and his wife appearing to enjoy the sport as much as the
youngest of the party, and both being delighted with the masterly
playing of the musician. But although, as on a former occasion, Sir
John did not suffer anything to interfere with, or interrupt the charge
of the duties expected of him, there was but a very small portion of
his mind or thoughts engrossed by the employment in which he was
engaged. All, or nearly all, were directed to the contemplation of the
object on which his affections had now become irrevocably fixed.
Neither was his visit to Todshaws, on this occasion, by any means
dictated solely by the frivolous object of affording its inmates
entertainment by his musical talents. His purpose was a much more
serious one. It was to ascertain, as far as such an opportunity would
afford him the means, the dispositions and temper of his fair
enslaver. Of these, his natural shrewdness had enabled him to make
a pretty correct estimate on the night of the wedding; but he was
desirous of seeing her in other circumstances, and he thought none
more suitable for his purpose than those of a domestic nature.
It was, then, to see her in this position that he had now come; and
the result of his observations was highly gratifying to him.
He found in Miss Harrison all that he, at any rate, desired in
woman. He found her guileless, cheerful, gentle, kind-hearted, and
good-tempered, beloved by all around her, and returning the
affection bestowed on her with a sincere and ardent love.
Such were the discoveries which the disguised baronet made on
this occasion; and never did hidden treasure half so much gladden
the heart of the fortunate finder, as these did that of him who made
them. It is true that Sir John could not be sure, nor was he, that his
addresses would be received by Miss Harrison, even after he should
have made himself known; but he could not help entertaining a
pretty strong confidence in his own powers of persuasion, nor being,
consequently, tolerably sanguine of success. All this, however, was to
be the work of another day. In the meantime, the dancers having had
their hearts’ content of capering on the green sward, the fiddle was
put up, and the fiddler once more invited into the house, where he
was entertained with the same hospitality as before, and another
half-crown slipped into his hand. This he also put carefully into his
pocket; and having partaken lightly of what was set before him, rose
up to depart, alleging that he had a good way to go, and was desirous
of availing himself of the little daylight that still remained. He was
pressed to remain all night, but this he declined; promising,
however, in reply to the urgent entreaties with which he was assailed
on all sides to stay, that he would very soon repeat his visit. Miss
Harrison he took by the hand, and said, “I promised to explain to you
the poetical riddle which I read, or rather attempted to sing, this
evening. It is now too late to do this, for the explanation is a long
one; but I will be here again, without fail, in a day or two, when I
shall solve all, and, I trust, to your satisfaction. Till then, do not
forget your poor fiddler.”
 “No, I winna forget ye,” said Jeanie. “It wadna be easy to forget ane
that has contributed so much to our happiness. Neither would it be
more than gratefu’ to do so, I think.”
“And you are too kind a creature to be ungrateful to any one,
however humble may be their attempts to win your favour; of that I
feel assured.” Having said this, and perceiving that he was
unobserved, he quickly raised the fair hand he held to his lips, kissed
it, and hurried out of the door.
What Jane Harrison thought of this piece of gallantry from a
fiddler, we really do not know, and therefore will say nothing about
it. Whatever her thoughts were, she kept them to herself. Neither did
she mention to any one the circumstance which gave rise to them.
Nor did she say, but for what reason we are ignorant, how much she
had been pleased with the general manners of the humble musician,
with the melodious tones of his voice, and the fine expression of his
dark hazel eye. Oh, love, love! thou art a leveller, indeed, else how
should it happen that the pretty daughter of a wealthy and
respectable yeoman should think for a moment, with certain
indescribable feelings, of a poor itinerant fiddler? Mark, good reader,
however, we do not say that Miss Harrison was absolutely in love
with the musician. By no means. That would certainly be saying too
much. But it is as certainly true, that she had perceived something
about him that left no disagreeable impression—nay, something
which she wished she might meet with in her future husband,
whoever he might be.
Leaving Jeanie Harrison to such reflections as these, we will follow
the footsteps of the disguised baronet. On leaving the house, he
walked at a rapid pace for an hour or so, till he came to a turn in the
road, at the distance of about four miles from Todshaws, where his
gig and man-servant, with a change of clothes, were waiting him by
appointment. Having hastily divested himself of his disguise, and
resumed his own dress, he stepped into the vehicle, and about
midnight arrived at Castle Gowan.
In this romantic attachment of Sir John Gowan’s, or rather in the
romantic project which it suggested to him of offering his heart and
hand to the daughter of a humble farmer, there was but one doubtful
point on his side of the question, at any rate. This was, whether he
could obtain the consent of his mother to such a proceeding. She
loved him with the utmost tenderness; and, naturally of a mild,
gentle, and affectionate disposition, her sole delight lay in promoting
the happiness of her beloved son. To secure this great object of her
life, there was scarcely any sacrifice which she would not make, nor
any proposal with which she would not willingly comply. This Sir
John well knew, and fully appreciated; but he felt that the call which
he was now about to make on her maternal love was more than he
ought to expect she would answer. He, in short, felt that she might,
with good reason, and without the slightest infringement of her
regard for him, object to his marrying so far beneath his station. It
was not, therefore, without some misgivings that he entered his
mother’s private apartment on the day following his adventure at
Todshaws, for the purpose of divulging the secret of his attachment,
and hinting at the resolution he had formed regarding it.
“Mother,” he said, after a pause which had been preceded by the
usual affectionate inquiries of the morning, “you have often
expressed a wish that I would marry.”
“I have, John,” replied the good old lady. “Nothing in this world
would afford me greater gratification than to see you united to a
woman who should be every way deserving of you—one with whom
you could live happily.”
“Ay, that last is the great, the important consideration, at least
with me. But where, mother, am I to find that woman? I have
mingled a good deal with the higher ranks of society, and there,
certainly, I have not been able to find her. I am not so uncharitable
as to say—nay, God forbid I should—that there are not as good, as
virtuous, as amiable women, in the upper classes of society as in the
lower. I have no doubt there are. All that I mean to say is, that I have
not been fortunate enough to find one in that sphere to suit my
fancy, and have no hopes of ever doing so. Besides, the feelings,
sentiments, and dispositions of these persons, both male and female,
are so completely disguised by a factitious manner, and by
conventional rules, that you never can discover what is their real
nature and character. They are still strangers to you, however long
you may be acquainted with them. You cannot tell who or what they
are. The roller of fashion reduces them all to one level; and, being all
clapped into the same mould, they become mere repetitions of each
other, as like as peas, without exhibiting the slightest point of variety.