Waverley

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Some such thoughts crossed Waverley's mind as he paced his horse slowly
through the rugged and flinty street of Tully-Veolan, interrupted
only in his meditations by the occasional caprioles which his charger
exhibited at the reiterated assaults of those canine Cossacks, the
COLLIES before mentioned. The village was more than half a mile long,
the cottages being irregularly divided from each other by gardens, or
yards, as the inhabitants called them, of different sizes, where (for
it is Sixty Years since) the now universal potato was unknown, but which
were stored with gigantic plants of KALE or colewort, encircled with
groves of nettles, and exhibited here and there a huge hemlock, or the
national thistle, overshadowing a quarter of the petty enclosure. The
broken ground on which the village was built had never been levelled; so
that these enclosures presented declivities of every degree, here rising
like terraces, there sinking like tan-pits. The dry-stone walls which
fenced, or seemed to fence (for they were sorely breached), these
hanging gardens of Tully-Veolan, were intersected by a narrow lane
leading to the common field, where the joint labour of the villagers
cultivated alternate ridges and patches of rye, oats, barley, and peas,
each of such minute extent, that at a little distance the unprofitable
variety of the surface resembled a tailor's book of patterns. In a
few favoured instances, there appeared behind the cottages a miserable
wigwam, compiled of earth, loose stones, and turf, where the wealthy
might perhaps shelter a starved cow or sorely galled horse. But almost
every hut was fenced in front by a huge black stack of turf on one side
of the door, while on the other the family dung-hill ascended in noble
emulation.

About a bow-shot from the end of the village appeared the enclosures,
proudly denominated the Parks of Tully-Veolan, being certain square
fields, surrounded and divided by stone walls five feet in height. In
the centre of the exterior barrier was the upper gate of the avenue,
opening under an archway, battlemented on the top, and adorned with two
large weather-beaten mutilated masses of upright stone, which, if the
tradition of the hamlet could be trusted, had once represented, at least
had been once designed to represent, two rampant Bears, the supporters
of the family of Bradwardine. This avenue was straight, and of moderate
length, running between a double row of very ancient horse-chestnuts,
planted alternately with sycamores, which rose to such huge height, and
flourished so luxuriantly, that their boughs completely over-arched the
broad road beneath. Beyond these venerable ranks, and running parallel
to them, were two high walls, of apparently the like antiquity,
overgrown with ivy, honeysuckle, and other climbing plants. The avenue
seemed very little trodden, and chiefly by foot-passengers; so that
being very broad, and enjoying a constant shade, it was clothed with
grass of a deep and rich verdure, excepting where a footpath, worn by
occasional passengers, tracked with a natural sweep the way from the
upper to the lower gate. This nether portal, like the former, opened in
front of a wall ornamented with some rude sculpture, with battlements on
the top, over which were seen, half-hidden by the trees of the avenue,
the high steep roofs and narrow gables of the mansion, with lines
indented into steps, and corners decorated with small turrets. One of
the folding leaves of the lower gate was open, and as the sun shone
full into the court behind, a long line of brilliancy was flung upon
the aperture up the dark and gloomy avenue. It was one of those effects
which a painter loves to represent, and mingled well with the struggling
light which found its way between the boughs of the shady arch that
vaulted the broad green alley.

The solitude and repose of the whole scene seemed almost romantic; and
Waverley, who had given his horse to his servant on entering the first
gate, walked slowly down the avenue, enjoying the grateful and cooling
shade, and so much pleased with the placid ideas of rest and seclusion
excited by this confined and quiet scene, that he forgot the misery and
dirt of the hamlet he had left behind him. The opening into the paved
courtyard corresponded with the rest of the scene. The house, which
seemed to consist of two or three high, narrow, and steep-roofed
buildings, projecting from each other at right angles, formed one side
of the enclosure. It had been built at a period when castles were no
longer necessary, and when the Scottish architects had not yet acquired
the art of designing a domestic residence. The windows were numberless,
but very small; the roof had some nondescript kind of projections,
called bartizans, and displayed at each frequent angle a small turret,
rather resembling a pepper-box than a Gothic watch-tower. Neither did
the front indicate absolute security from danger. There were loop-holes
for musketry, and iron stanchions on the lower windows, probably to
repel any roving band of gipsies, or resist a predatory visit from
the Caterans of the neighbouring Highlands. Stables and other offices
occupied another side of the square. The former were low vaults, with
narrow slits instead of windows, resembling, as Edward's groom observed,
'rather a prison for murderers and larceners, and such like as are
tried at 'sizes, than a place for any Christian cattle.' Above these
dungeon-looking stables were granaries, called girnels, and other
offices, to which there was access by outside stairs of heavy masonry.
Two battlemented walls, one of which faced the avenue, and the other
divided the court from the garden, completed the enclosure.

Nor was the court without its ornaments. In one corner was a tun-bellied
pigeon-house, of great size and rotundity, resembling in figure and
proportion the curious edifice called Arthur's Oven, which would have
turned the brains of all the antiquaries in England, had not the
worthy proprietor pulled it down for the sake of mending a neighbouring
dam-dyke. This dovecot, or COLUMBARIUM, as the owner called it, was no
small resource to a Scottish laird of that period, whose scanty rents
were eked out by the contributions levied upon the farms by these light
foragers, and the conscriptions exacted from the latter for the benefit
of the table.

Another corner of the court displayed a fountain, where a huge bear,
carved in stone, predominated over a large stone basin, into which he
disgorged the water. This work of art was the wonder of the country ten
miles round. It must not be forgotten, that all sorts of bears, small
and large, demi or in full proportion, were carved over the windows,
upon the ends of the gables, terminated the spouts, and supported the
turrets, with the ancient family motto 'BEWAR THE BAR,' cut under each
hyperborean form. The court was spacious, well paved, and perfectly
clean, there being probably another entrance behind the stables for
removing the litter. Everything around appeared solitary, and would have
been silent, but for the continued plashing of the fountain; and the
whole scene still maintained the monastic illusion which the fancy of
Waverley had conjured up.--And here we beg permission to close a chapter
of still life. [There is no particular mansion described under the
name of Tully-Veolan; but the peculiarities of the description occur
in various old Scottish seats. The House of Warrender upon Bruntsfield
Links, and that of Old Ravelston, belonging, the former to Sir George
Warrender, the latter to Sir Alexander Keith, have both contributed
several hints to the description in the text. The House of Dean, near
Edinburgh, has also some points of resemblance with Tully-Veolan.
The author has, however, been informed, that the House of Grandtully
resembles that of the Baron of Bradwardine still more than any of the
above.]



CHAPTER IX

MORE OF THE MANOR-HOUSE AND ITS ENVIRONS

After having satisfied his curiosity by gazing around him for a
few minutes, Waverley applied himself to the massive knocker of the
hall-door, the architrave of which bore the date 1594. But no answer was
returned, though the peal resounded through a number of apartments, and
was echoed from the courtyard walls without the house, startling the
pigeons from the venerable rotunda which they occupied, and alarming
anew even the distant village curs, which had retired to sleep upon
their respective dung-hills. Tired of the din which he created, and the
unprofitable responses which it excited, Waverley began to think that he
had reached the castle of Orgoglio, as entered by the victorious Prince
Arthur,

When 'gan he loudly through the house to call,
But no man cared to answer to his cry;
There reigned a solemn silence over all,
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seen, in bower or hall.

Filled almost with expectation of beholding some 'old, old man, with
beard as white as snow,' whom he might question concerning this deserted
mansion, our hero turned to a little oaken wicket-door, well clenched
with iron nails, which opened in the courtyard wall at its angle
with the house. It was only latched, notwithstanding its fortified
appearance, and, when opened, admitted him into the garden, which
presented a pleasant scene. [At Ravelston may be seen such a garden,
which the taste of the proprietor, the author's friend and kinsman, Sir
Alexander Keith, Knight Mareschal, has judiciously preserved. That, as
well as the house, is, however, of smaller dimensions than the Baron
of Bradwardine's mansion and garden are presumed to have been.] The
southern side of the house, clothed with fruit-trees, and having many
evergreens trained upon its walls, extended its irregular yet venerable
front along a terrace, partly paved, partly gravelled, partly bordered
with flowers and choice shrubs. This elevation descended by three
several flights of steps, placed in its centre and at the extremities,
into what might be called the garden proper, and was fenced along the
top by a stone parapet with a heavy balustrade, ornamented from space to
space with huge grotesque figures of animals seated upon their haunches,
among which the favourite bear was repeatedly introduced. Placed in the
middle of the terrace, between a sashed door opening from the house and
the central flight of steps, a huge animal of the same species supported
on his head and fore-paws a sundial of large circumference, inscribed
with more diagrams than Edward's mathematics enabled him to decipher.

The garden, which seemed to be kept with great accuracy, abounded in
fruit-trees, and exhibited a profusion of flowers and evergreens, cut
into grotesque forms. It was laid out in terraces, which descended rank
by rank from the western wall to a large brook, which had a tranquil
and smooth appearance, where it served as a boundary to the garden; but,
near the extremity, leapt in tumult over a strong dam, or weir-head, the
cause of its temporary tranquillity, and there forming a cascade, was
overlooked by an octangular summer-house, with a gilded bear on the top
by way of vane. After this feat, the brook, assuming its natural rapid
and fierce character, escaped from the eye down a deep and wooded dell,
from the copse of which arose a massive, but ruinous tower, the former
habitation of the Barons of Bradwardine, The margin of the brook,
opposite to the garden, displayed a narrow meadow, or haugh, as it was
called, which formed a small washing-green; the bank, which retired
behind it, was covered by ancient trees.

The scene, though pleasing, was not quite equal to the gardens of
Alcina; yet wanted not the 'DUE DONZELLETTE GARRULE' of that enchanted
paradise, for upon the green aforesaid two bare-legged damsels, each
standing in a spacious tub, performed with their feet the office of
a patent washing-machine. These did not, however, like the maidens of
Armida, remain to greet with their harmony the approaching guest, but,
alarmed at the appearance of a handsome stranger on the opposite side,
dropped their garments (I should say garment, to be quite-correct) over
their limbs, which their occupation exposed somewhat too freely, and,
with a shrill exclamation of 'Eh, sirs!' uttered with an accent between
modesty and coquetry, sprang off like deer in different directions.

Waverley began to despair of gaining entrance into this solitary and
seemingly enchanted mansion, when a man advanced up one of the garden
alleys, where he still retained his station. Trusting this might be a
gardener, or some domestic belonging to the house, Edward descended
the steps in order to meet him; but as the figure approached, and long
before he could descry its features, he was struck with the oddity of
its appearance and gestures.--Sometimes this mister wight held his hands
clasped over his head, like an Indian Jogue in the attitude of penance;
sometimes he swung them perpendicularly, like a pendulum, on each side;
and anon he slapped them swiftly and repeatedly across his breast,
like the substitute used by a hackney-coachman for his usual flogging
exercise, when his cattle are idle upon the stand in a clear frosty day.
His gait was as singular as his gestures, for at times he hopped with
great perseverance on the right foot, then exchanged that supporter to
advance in the same manner on the left, and then putting his feet close
together, he hopped upon both at once. His attire, also, was antiquated
and extravagant. It consisted in a sort of grey jerkin, with scarlet
cuffs and slashed sleeves, showing a scarlet lining; the other parts
of the dress corresponded in colour, not forgetting a pair of scarlet
stockings, and a scarlet bonnet, proudly surmounted with a turkey's
feather. Edward, whom he did not seem to observe, now perceived
confirmation in his features of what the mien and gestures had already
announced. It was apparently neither idiocy nor insanity which gave
that wild, unsettled, irregular expression to a face which naturally was
rather handsome, but something that resembled a compound of both, where
the simplicity of the fool was mixed with the extravagance of a crazed
imagination. He sang with great earnestness, and not without some taste,
a fragment of an old Scottish ditty:--

False love, and hast thou played me thus
In summer among the flowers?
I will repay thee back again
In winter among the showers.
Unless again, again, my love,
Unless you turn again;
As you with other maidens rove,
I'll smile on other men.

[This is a genuine ancient fragment, with some alteration in the last
two lines.]

Here lifting up his eyes, which had hither&o been fixed in observing how
his feet kept time to the tune, he beheld Waverley, and instantly
doffed his cap, with many grotesque signals of surprise, respect, and
salutation. Edward, though with little hope of receiving an answer to
any constant question, requested to know whether Mr. Bradwardine were at
home, or where he could find any of the domestics. The questioned party
replied,--and, like the witch of Thalaba, 'still his speech was song,'--

The Knight's to the mountain
His bugle to wind;
The Lady's to greenwood
Her garland to bind.
The bower of Burd Ellen
Has moss on the floor,
That the step of Lord William
Be silent and sure.

This conveyed no information, and Edward, repeating his queries,
received a rapid answer, in which, from the haste and peculiarity of
the dialect, the word 'butler' was alone intelligible. Waverley then
requested to see the butler; upon which the fellow, with a knowing look
and nod of intelligence, made a signal to Edward to follow, and began to
dance and caper down the alley up which he had made his approaches.--A
strange guide this, thought Edward, and not much unlike one of
Shakespeare's roynish clowns. I am not over prudent to trust to his
pilotage; but wiser men have been led by fools.--By this time he reached
the bottom of the alley, where, turning short on a little parterre of
flowers, shrouded from the east and north by a close yew hedge, he found
an old man at work without his coat, whose appearance hovered between
that of an upper servant and gardener; his red nose and ruffed shirt
belonging to the former profession; his hale and sunburnt visage, with
his green apron, appearing to indicate

Old Adam's likeness, set to dress this garden.

The major domo--for such he was, and indisputably the second officer of
state in the barony (nay, as chief minister of the interior, superior
even to Bailie Macwheeble, in his own department of the kitchen and
cellar)--the major domo laid down his spade, slipped on his coat in
haste, and with a wrathful look at Edward's guide, probably excited by
his having introduced a stranger while he was engaged in this laborious,
and, as he might suppose it, degrading office, requested to know the
gentleman's commands. Being informed that he wished to pay his respects
to his master, that his name was Waverley, and so forth, the old man's
countenance assumed a great deal of respectful importance. 'He could
take it upon his conscience to say, his honour would have exceeding
pleasure in seeing him. Would not Mr. Waverley choose some refreshment
after his journey? His honour was with the folk who were getting doon
the dark hag; the twa gardener lads (an emphasis on the word TWA) had
been ordered to attend him; and he had been just amusing himself in the
meantime with dressing Miss Rose's flower-bed, that he might be near to
receive his honour's orders, if need were: he was very fond of a garden,
but had little time for such divertisements.'

'He canna get it wrought in abune twa days in the week at no rate
whatever,' said Edward's fantastic conductor.

A grim look from the butler chastised his interference, and he commanded
him, by the name of Davie Gellatley, in a tone which admitted no
discussion, to look for his honour at the dark hag, and tell him there
was a gentleman from the south had arrived at the Ha'.

'Can this poor fellow deliver a letter?' asked Edward.

'With all fidelity, sir, to any one whom he respects. I would hardly
trust him with a long message by word of mouth--though he is more knave
than fool.'

Waverley delivered his credentials to Mr. Gellatley, who seemed to
confirm the butler's last observation, by twisting his features at him,
when he was looking another way, into the resemblance of the grotesque
face on the bowl of a German tobacco-pipe; after which, with an odd
conge to Waverley, he danced off to discharge his errand.

'He is an innocent, sir,' said the butler; 'there is one such in almost
every town in the country, but ours is brought far ben. He used to work
a day's turn weel eneugh; but he help'd Miss Rose when she was flemit
with the Laird of Killancureit's new English bull, and since that time
we ca' him Davie Do-little indeed we might ca' him Davie Do-naething,
for since he got that gay clothing, to please his honour and my young
mistress (great folks will have their fancies), he has done naething but
dance up and down about the TOUN, without doing a single turn, unless
trimming the laird's fishing-wand or busking his flies, or maybe
catching a dish of trouts at an orra-time. But here comes Miss Rose,
who, I take burden upon me for her, will be especially glad to see one
of the house of Waverley at her father's mansion at Tully-Veolan.'

But Rose Bradwardine deserves better of her unworthy historian, than to
be introduced at the end of a chapter.

In the meanwhile it may be noticed, that Waverley learned two things
from this colloquy; that in Scotland a single house was called a TOWN,
and a natural fool an INNOCENT. [6]



CHAPTER X

ROSE BRADWARDINE AND HER FATHER

Miss Bradwardine was but seventeen; yet, at the last races of the county
town of--, upon her health being proposed among a round of beauties,
the Laird of Bumperquaigh, permanent feast-master and croupier of the
Bautherwhillery Club, not only said MORE to the pledge in a pint bumper
of Bourdeaux, but, ere pouring forth the libation, denominated the
divinity to whom it was dedicated, 'the Rose of Tully-Veolan;' upon
which festive occasion, three cheers were given by all the sitting
members of that respectable society, whose throats the wine had left
capable of such exertion. Nay, I am well assured, that the sleeping
partners of the company snorted applause, and that although strong
bumpers and weak brains had consigned two or three to the floor, yet
even these, fallen as they were from their high estate, and weltering--I
will carry the parody no further--uttered divers inarticulate sounds,
intimating their assent to the motion.

Such unanimous applause could not be extorted but by acknowledged merit;
and Rose Bradwardine not only deserved it, but also the approbation
of much more rational persons than the Bautherwhillery Club could have
mustered, even before discussion of the first MAGNUM. She was indeed a
very pretty girl of the Scotch cast of beauty, that is, with a profusion
of hair of paley gold, and a skin like the snow of her own mountains in
whiteness. Yet she had not a pallid or pensive cast of countenance;
her features, as well as her temper, had a lively expression; her
complexion, though not florid, was so pure as to seem transparent, and
the slightest emotion sent her whole blood at once to her face and neck.
Her form, though under the common size, was remarkably elegant, and her
motions light, easy, and unembarrassed. She came from another part
of the garden to receive Captain Waverley, with a manner that hovered
between bashfulness and courtesy.

The first greetings past, Edward learned from her that the dark hag,
which had somewhat puzzled him in the butler's account of his master's
avocations, had nothing to do either with a black cat or a broomstick,
but was simply a portion of oak copse which was to be felled that day.
She offered, with diffident civility, to show the stranger the way to
the spot, which, it seems, was not far distant; but they were prevented
by the appearance of the Baron of Bradwardine in person, who, summoned
by David Gellatley, now appeared, 'on hospitable thoughts intent,'
clearing the ground at a prodigious rate with swift and long strides,
which reminded Waverley of the seven-league boots of the nursery fable.
He was a tall, thin, athletic figure; old indeed, and grey-haired, but
with every muscle rendered as tough as whip-cord by constant exercise.
He was dressed carelessly, and more like a Frenchman than an Englishman
of the period, while, from his hard features and perpendicular rigidity
of stature, he bore some resemblance to a Swiss officer of the guards,
who had resided some time at Paris, and caught the costume, but not the
ease or manner of its inhabitants. The truth was, that his language and
habits were as heterogeneous as his external appearance.

Owing to his natural disposition to study, or perhaps to a very general
Scottish fashion of giving young men of rank a legal education, he
had been bred with a view to the Bar. But the politics of his family
precluding the hope of his rising in that profession, Mr. Bradwardine
travelled with high reputation for several years, and made some
campaigns in foreign service. After his DEMELE with the law of high
treason in 1715, he had lived in retirement, conversing almost entirely
with those of his own principles in the vicinage. The pedantry of the
lawyer, superinduced upon the military pride of the soldier, might
remind a modern of the days of the zealous volunteer service, when the
bar-gown of our pleaders was often hung over a blazing uniform. To this
must be added the prejudices of ancient birth and Jacobite politics,
greatly strengthened by habits of solitary and secluded authority,
which, though exercised only within the bounds of his half-cultivated
estate, was there indisputable and undisputed. For, as he used to
observe, 'the lands of Bradwardine, Tully-Veolan, and others, had
been erected into a free barony by a charter from David the First, CUM
LIBERALI POTEST. HABENDI CURIAS ET JUSTICIAS, CUM FOSSA ET FURCA (LIE
pit and gallows) ET SAKA ET SOKA, ET THOL ET THEAM, ET INFANG-THIEF ET
OUTFANG-THIEF, SIVE HAND-HABEND. SIVE BAK-BARAND.' The peculiar meaning
of all these cabalistical words few or none could explain; but they
implied, upon the whole, that the Baron of Bradwardine might, in case
of delinquency, imprison, try, and execute his vassals at his pleasure.
Like James the First, however, the present possessor of this authority
was more pleased in talking about prerogative than in exercising it;
and, excepting that he imprisoned two poachers in the dungeon of the old
tower of Tully-Veolan, where they were sorely frightened by ghosts,
and almost eaten by rats, and that he set an old woman in the JOUGS (or
Scottish pillory) for saying 'there were mair fules in the laird's
ha' house than Davie Gellatley,' I do not learn that he was accused
of abusing his high powers. Still, however, the conscious pride
of possessing them gave additional importance to his language and
deportment.