Waverley

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All this pressed on his mind; yet the original statement recurred with
the same irresistible force. He had received a personal insult; he
was of the house of Waverley; and he bore a commission. There was
no alternative; and he descended to the breakfast parlour with the
intention of taking leave of the family, and writing to one of his
brother officers to meet him at the inn mid-way between Tully-Veolan and
the town where they were quartered, in order that he might convey such
a message to the Laird of Balmawhapple as the circumstances seemed to
demand. He found Miss Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee, the
table loaded with warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and barley-meal,
in the shape of leaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties, together
with eggs, reindeer ham, mutton and beef, ditto, smoked salmon,
marmalade, and all other delicacies which induced even Johnson himself
to extol the luxury of a Scotch breakfast above that of all other
countries. A mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked by a silver jug, which
held an equal mixture of cream and butter-milk, was placed for the
Baron's share of this repast; but Rose observed he had walked out
early in the morning, after giving orders that his guest should not be
disturbed.

Waverley sat down almost in silence, and with an air of absence and
abstraction, which could not give Miss Bradwardine a favourable opinion
of his talents for conversation. He answered at random one or two
observations which she ventured to make upon ordinary topics; so that
feeling herself almost repulsed in her efforts at entertaining him, and
secretly wondering that a scarlet coat should cover no better breeding,
she left him to his mental amusement of cursing Dr. Doubleit's favourite
constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mischief which had
already happened, and was likely to ensue. At once he started, and his
colour heightened, as, looking toward the window, he beheld the Baron
and young Balmawhapple pass arm in arm, apparently in deep conversation;
and he hastily asked, 'Did Mr. Falconer sleep here last night?' Rose,
not much pleased with the abruptness of the first question which the
young stranger had addressed to her, answered drily in the negative, and
the conversation again sank into silence.

At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared, with a message from his master,
requesting to speak with Captain Waverley in another apartment. With
a heart which beat; a little quicker, not indeed from fear, but from
uncertainty and anxiety, Edward obeyed the summons. He found the two
gentlemen standing together, an air of complacent dignity on the brow of
the Baron, while something like sullenness, or shame, or both, blanked
the bold visage of Balmawhapple. The former slipped his arm through that
of the latter, and thus seeming to walk with him, while in reality he
led him, advanced to meet Waverley, and, stopping in the midst of
the apartment, made in great state the following oration: 'Captain
Waverley,--my young and esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer of Balmawhapple,
has craved of my age and experience, as of one not wholly unskilled in
the dependencies and punctilios of the duello or monomachia, to be his
interlocutor in expressing to you the regret with which he calls to
remembrance certain passages of our symposion last night, which could
not but be highly displeasing to you, as serving for the time under this
present existing government. He craves you, sir, to drown in oblivion
the memory of such solecisms against the laws of politeness, as being
what his better reason disavows, and to receive the hand which he offers
you in amity; and I must needs assure you, that nothing less than a
sense of being DANS SON TORT, as a gallant French chevalier, Mons, Le
Bretailleur, once said to me on such an occasion, and an opinion also
of your peculiar merit, could have extorted such concessions; for he and
all his family are, and have been time out of mind, MAVORTIA PECTORA, as
Buchanan saith, a bold and warlike sept, or people.'

Edward immediately, and with natural politeness, accepted the hand which
Balmawhapple, or rather the Baron in his character of mediator, extended
towards him. 'It was impossible,' he said, 'for him to remember what
a gentleman expressed his wish he had not uttered; and he willingly
imputed what had passed to the exuberant festivity of the day.'

'That is very handsomely said,' answered the Baron; 'for undoubtedly,
if a man be EBRIUS, or intoxicated--an incident which, on solemn and
festive occasions, may and will take place in the life of a man of
honour; and if the same gentleman, being fresh and sober, recants the
contumelies which he hath spoken in his liquor, it must be held VINUM
LOCUTUM EST; the words cease to be his own. Yet would I not find this
exculpation relevant in the case of one who was EBRIOSUS, or an habitual
drunkard; because, if such a person choose to pass the greater part
of his time in the predicament of intoxication, he hath no title to be
exeemed from the obligations of the code of politeness, but should learn
to deport himself peaceably and courteously when under the influence of
the vinous stimulus.--And now let us proceed to breakfast, and think no
more of this daft business.'

I must confess, whatever inference may be drawn from the circumstance,
that Edward, after so satisfactory an explanation, did much greater
honour to the delicacies of Miss Bradwardine's breakfast-table than
his commencement had promised. Balmawhapple, on the contrary, seemed
embarrassed and dejected; and Waverley now, for the first time, observed
that his arm was in a sling, which seemed to account for the awkward and
embarrassed manner with which he had presented his hand. To a question
from Miss Bradwardine, he muttered, in answer, something about his horse
having fallen; and, seeming desirous to escape both from the subject and
the company, he arose as soon as breakfast was over, made his bow to the
party, and, declining the Baron's invitation to tarry till after dinner,
mounted his horse and returned to his own home.

Waverley now announced his purpose of leaving Tully-Veolan early enough
after dinner to gain the stage at which he meant to sleep; but the
unaffected and deep mortification with which the good-natured and
affectionate old gentleman heard the proposal, quite deprived him of
courage to persist in it. No sooner had he gained Waverley's consent
to lengthen his visit for a few days, than he laboured to remove the
grounds upon which he conceived he had meditated a more early retreat.
'I would not have you opine, Captain Waverley, that I am by practice or
precept an advocate of ebriety, though it may be that, in our festivity
of last night, some of our friends, if not perchance altogether EBRII,
or drunken, were, to say the least, EBRIOLI, by which the ancients
designed those who were fuddled, or, as your English vernacular and
metaphorical phrase goes, half-seas-over. Not that I would so insinuate
respecting you, Captain Waverley, who, like a prudent youth, did rather
abstain from potation; nor can it be truly said of myself, who, having
assisted at the tables of many great generals and marechals at their
solemn carousals, have the art to carry my wine discreetly, and did not,
during the whole evening, as ye must have doubtless observed, exceed the
bounds of a modest hilarity.'

There was no refusing assent to a proposition so decidedly laid down by
him who undoubtedly was the best judge; although, had Edward formed his
opinion from his own recollections, he would have pronounced that the
Baron was not only EBRIOLUS, but verging to become EBRIUS; or, in plain
English, was incomparably the most drunk of the party, except perhaps
his antagonist the Laird of Balmawhapple. However, having received the
expected, or rather the required, compliment on his sobriety, the Baron
proceeded,--'No, sir, though I am myself of a strong temperament, I
abhor ebriety, and detest those who swallow wine GULAE CAUSA, for the
oblectation of the gullet; albeit I might deprecate the law of Pittacus
of Mitylene, who punished doubly a crime committed under the influence
of LIBER PATER; nor would I utterly accede to the objurgation of the
younger Plinius, in the fourteenth book of his HISTORIA NATURALIS. No,
sir; I distinguish, I discriminate, and approve of wine so far only as
it maketh glad the face, or, in the language of Flaccus, RECEPTO AMICO.'

Thus terminated the apology which the Baron of Bradwardine thought it
necessary to make for the super-abundance of his hospitality; and it may
be easily believed that he was neither interrupted by dissent, nor any
expression of incredulity.

He then invited his guest to a morning ride, and ordered that Davie
Gellatley should meet them at the DERN PATH with Ban and Buscar. 'For,
until the shooting season commenced, I would willingly show you some
sport, and we may, God willing, meet with a roe. The roe, Captain
Waverley, may be hunted at all times alike; for never being in what is
called PRIDE OF GREASE, he is also never out of season, though it be a
truth that his venison is not equal to that of either the red or fallow
deer. [The learned in cookery dissent from the Baron of Bradwardine, and
hold the roe-venison dry and indifferent food, unless when dressed in
soup and Scotch collops.] But he will serve to show how my dogs run; and
therefore they shall attend us with Davie Gellatley.'

Waverley expressed his surprise that his friend Davie was capable
of such trust; but the Baron gave him to understand that this poor
simpleton was neither fatuous, NEC NATURALITER IDIOTA, as is expressed
in the brieves of furiosity, but simply a crack-brained knave, who could
execute very well any commission which jumped with his own humour, and
made his folly a plea for avoiding every other. 'He has made an interest
with us,' continued the Baron, 'by saving Rose from a great danger with
his own proper peril; and the roguish loon must therefore eat of our
bread and drink of our cup, and do what he can, or what he will; which,
if the suspicions of Saunderson and the Bailie are well founded, may
perchance in his case be commensurate terms.'

Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverley to understand, that this poor
simpleton was doatingly fond of music, deeply affected by that which was
melancholy, and transported into extravagant gaiety by light and
lively airs. He had in this respect a prodigious memory, stored with
miscellaneous snatches and fragments of all tunes and songs, which
he sometimes applied, with considerable address, as the vehicles of
remonstrance, explanation, or satire. Davie was much attached to the few
who showed him kindness; and both aware of any slight or ill usage which
he happened to receive, and sufficiently apt, where he saw opportunity,
to revenge it. The common people, who often judge hardly of each
other, as well as of their betters, although they had expressed great
compassion for the poor innocent while suffered to wander in rags about
the village, no sooner beheld him decently clothed, provided for, and
even a sort of favourite, than they called up all the instances of
sharpness and ingenuity, in action and repartee, which his annals
afforded, and charitably bottomed thereupon a hypothesis, that Davie
Gellatley was no further fool than was necessary to avoid hard labour.
This opinion was not better founded than that of the Negroes, who, from
the acute and mischievous pranks of the monkeys, suppose that they
have the gift of speech, and only suppress their powers of elocution
to escape being set to work. But the hypothesis was entirely imaginary:
Davie Gellatley was in good earnest the half-crazed simpleton which he
appeared, and was incapable of any constant and steady exertion. He had
just so much solidity as kept on the windy side of insanity; so much
wild wit as saved him from the imputation of idiocy; some dexterity
in field sports (in which we have known as great fools excel), great
kindness and humanity in the treatment of animals entrusted to him, warm
affections, a prodigious memory, and an ear for music.

The stamping of horses was now heard in the court, and Davie's voice
singing to the two large deer greyhounds,--

Hie away, hie away,
Over bank and over brae,
Where the copsewood is the greenest,
Where the fountains glisten sheenest,
Where the lady-fern grows strongest,
Where the morning dew lies longest,
Where the black-cock sweetest sips it,
Where the fairy latest trips it:
Hie to haunts right seldom seen,
Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green,
Over bank and over brae,
Hie away, hie away.

'Do the verses he sings,' asked Waverley, 'belong to old Scottish
poetry, Miss Bradwardine?'

'I believe not,' she replied. 'This poor creature had a brother, and
Heaven, as if to compensate to the family Davie's deficiencies, had
given him what the hamlet thought uncommon talents. An uncle contrived
to educate him for the Scottish kirk, but he could not get preferment
because he came from our GROUND. He returned from college hopeless and
broken-hearted, and fell into a decline. My father supported him till
his death, which happened before he was nineteen. He played beautifully
on the flute, and was supposed to have a great turn for poetry. He was
affectionate and compassionate to his brother, who followed him like
his shadow, and we think that from him Davie gathered many fragments of
songs and music unlike those of this country. But if we ask him where
he got such a fragment as he is now singing, he either answers with wild
and long fits of laughter, or else breaks into tears of lamentation;
but was never heard to give any explanation, or to mention his brother's
name since his death.'

'Surely,' said Edward, who was readily interested by a tale bordering on
the romantic, 'surely more might be learned by more particular inquiry.'

'Perhaps so,' answered Rose, 'but my father will not permit any one to
practise on his feelings on this subject.'

By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had indued
a pair of jack-boots of large dimensions, and now invited our hero to
follow him as he stalked clattering down the ample staircase, tapping
each huge balustrade as he passed with the butt of his massive
horsewhip, and humming, with the air of a chasseur of Louis Quatorze,

Pour la chasse ordonnee il faut preparer tout,
Hola ho! Vite! vite debout.



CHAPTER XIII

A MORE RATIONAL DAY THAN THE LAST

The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well-managed horse,
and seated on a demi-pique saddle, with deep housings to agree with his
livery, was no bad representative of the old school. His light-coloured
embroidered coat, and superbly barred waistcoat, his brigadier wig,
surmounted by a small gold-laced cocked-hat, completed his personal
costume; but he was attended by two well-mounted servants on horseback,
armed with holster pistols.

In this guise he ambled forth over hill and valley, the admiration of
every farmyard which they passed in their progress, till, 'low down in
a grassy vale,' they found Davie Gellatley leading two very tall deer
greyhounds, and presiding over half a dozen curs, and about as many
bare-legged and bare-headed boys, who, to procure the chosen distinction
of attending on the chase, had not failed to tickle his ears with the
dulcet appellation of Maister Gellatley, though probably all and each
had booted him on former occasions in the character of daft Davie.
But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to persons in office, nor
altogether confined to the bare-legged villagers of Tully-Veolan: it
was in fashion Sixty Years since, is now, and will be six hundred years
hence, if this admirable compound of folly and knavery, called the
world, shall be then in existence.

These GILLIE-WET-FOOTS, [A bare-footed Highland lad is called a
gillie-wet-foot. Gillie, in general, means servant or attendant.] as
they were called, were destined to beat the bushes, which they performed
with so much success, that, after half an hour's search, a roe was
started, coursed, and killed; the Baron following on his white horse,
like Earl Percy of yore, and magnanimously flaying and embowelling the
slain animal (which, he observed, was called by the French chasseurs
FAIRE LA CUREE) with his own baronial COUTEAU DE CHASSE. After this
ceremony he conducted his guest homeward by a pleasant and circuitous
route, commanding an extensive prospect of different villages and
houses, to each of which Mr. Bradwardine attached some anecdote of
history or genealogy, told in language whimsical from prejudice and
pedantry, but often respectable for the good sense and honourable
feelings which his narrative displayed, and almost always curious, if
not valuable, for the information they contained.

The truth is, the ride seemed agreeable to both gentlemen, because they
found amusement in each other's conversation, although their characters
and habits of thinking were in many respects totally opposite. Edward,
we have informed the reader, was warm in his feelings, wild and romantic
in his ideas and in his taste of reading, with a strong disposition
towards poetry. Mr. Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and piqued
himself upon stalking through life with the same upright, starched,
stoical gravity which distinguished his evening promenade upon the
terrace of Tully-Veolan, where for hours together--the very model old
Hardyknute--

Stately stepped he east the wa',
And stately stepped he west.

As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the
EPITHALAMIUM of Georgius Buchanan, and Arthur Johnston's PSALMS, of
a Sunday; and the DELICIAE POETARUM SCOTORUM, and Sir David Lindsay's
WORKS, and Barbour's BRUCE, and Blind Harry's WALLACE, and the GENTLE
SHEPHERD, and the CHERRY AND THE SLAE. But though he thus far sacrificed
his time to the Muses, he would if the truth must be spoken, have been
much better pleased had the pious or sapient apothegms, as well as
the historical narratives, which these various works contained, been
presented to him in the form of simple prose. And he sometimes could not
refrain from expressing contempt of the 'vain and unprofitable art of
poem-making,' in which, he said, 'the only one who had excelled in his
time was Allan Ramsay, the periwig-maker.'

[The Baron ought to have remembered that the joyous Allan literally drew
his blood from the house of the noble Earl, whom he terms--

Dalhousie of an old descent,
My stoup, my pride, my ornament.]

But although Edward and he differed TOTO COELO, as the Baron would
have said, upon this subject, yet they met upon history as on a neutral
ground, in which each claimed an interest. The Baron, indeed, only
cumbered his memory with matters of fact; the cold, dry, hard outlines
which history delineates. Edward, on the contrary, loved to fill up and
round the sketch with the colouring of a warm and vivid imagination,
which gives light and life to the actors and speakers in the drama of
past ages. Yet with tastes so opposite, they contributed greatly to
each other's amusement. Mr. Bradwardine's minute narratives and powerful
memory supplied to Waverley fresh subjects of the kind upon which his
fancy loved to labour, and opened to him a new mine of incident and of
character. And he repaid the pleasure thus communicated, by an earnest
attention, valuable to all story-tellers, more especially to the Baron,
who felt his habits of self-respect flattered by it; and sometimes
also by reciprocal communications, which interested Mr. Bradwardine,
as confirming or illustrating his own favourite anecdotes. Besides, Mr.
Bradwardine loved to talk of the scenes of his youth, which had been
spent in camps and foreign lands, and had many interesting particulars
to tell of the generals under whom he had served, and the actions he had
witnessed.

Both parties returned to Tully-Veolan in great good humour with each
other; Waverley desirous of studying more attentively what he considered
as a singular and interesting character, gifted with a memory containing
a curious register of ancient and modern anecdotes; and Bradwardine
disposed to regard Edward as PUER (or rather JUVENIS) BONAE SPEI ET
MAGNAE INDOLIS, a youth devoid of that petulant volatility, which is
impatient of, or vilipends, the conversation and advice of his
seniors, from which he predicted great things of his future success and
deportment in life. There was no other guest except Mr. Rubrick, whose
information and discourse, as a clergyman and a scholar, harmonized very
well with that of the Baron and his guest.

Shortly after dinner, the Baron, as if to show that his temperance was
not entirely theoretical, proposed a visit to Rose's apartment, or, as
he termed it, her TROISIEME ETAGE. Waverley was accordingly conducted
through one or two of those long awkward passages with which ancient
architects studied to puzzle the inhabitants of the houses which they
planned, at the end of which Mr. Bradwardine began to ascend, by two
steps at once, a very steep, narrow, and winding stair, leaving Mr.
Rubrick and Waverley to follow at more leisure, while he should announce
their approach to his daughter.

After having climbed this perpendicular corkscrew until their brains
were almost giddy, they arrived in a little matted lobby, which served
as an ante-room to Rose's SANCTUM SANCTORUM, and through which they
entered her parlour. It was a small but pleasant apartment, opening to
the south, and hung with tapestry; adorned besides with two pictures,
one of her mother, in the dress of a shepherdess, with a bell-hoop;
the other of the Baron, in his tenth year, in a blue coat, embroidered
waistcoat, laced hat, and bag-wig, with a bow in his hand. Edward could
not help smiling at the costume, and at the odd resemblance between
the round, smooth, red-checked, staring visage in the portrait, and
the gaunt, bearded, hollow-eyed, swarthy features, which travelling,
fatigues of war, and advanced age, had bestowed on the original. The
Baron joined in the laugh. 'Truly,' he said, 'that picture was a woman's
fantasy of my good mother's (a daughter of the Laird of Tulliellum,
Captain Waverley; I indicated the house to you when we were on the top
of the Shinnyheuch; it was burnt by the Dutch auxiliaries brought in by
the Government in 1715); I never sat for my pourtraicture but once since
that was painted, and it was at the special and reiterated request of
the Marechal Duke of Berwick.'

The good old gentleman did not mention what Mr. Rubrick afterwards told
Edward, that the Duke had done him this honour on account of his being
the first to mount the breach of a fort; in Savoy during the memorable
campaign of 1709, and his having there defended himself with his
half-pike for nearly ten minutes before any support reached him. To do
the Baron justice, although sufficiently prone to dwell upon, and even
to exaggerate, his family dignity and consequence, he was too much a man
of real courage ever to allude to such personal acts of merit as he had
himself manifested.

Miss Rose now appeared from the interior room of her apartment, to
welcome her father and his friends. The little labours in which she
had been employed obviously showed a natural taste, which required only
cultivation. Her father had taught her French and Italian, and a few of
the ordinary authors in those languages ornamented her shelves. He had
endeavoured also to be her preceptor in music; but as he began with the
more abstruse doctrines of the science, and was not perhaps master of
them himself, she had made no proficiency further than to be able to
accompany her voice with the harpsichord; but even this was not very
common in Scotland at that period. To make amends, she sang with great
taste and feeling, and with a respect to the sense of what she uttered
that might be proposed in example to ladies of much superior musical
talent. Her natural good sense taught her, that if, as we are assured
by high authority, music be 'married to immortal verse,' they are
very often divorced by the performer in a most shameful manner. It was
perhaps owing to this sensibility to poetry, and power of combining its
expression with those of the musical notes, that her singing gave more
pleasure to all the unlearned in music, and even to many of the learned,
than could have been communicated by a much finer voice and more
brilliant execution, unguided by the same delicacy of feeling.

A bartizan, or projecting gallery, before the windows of her parlour,
served to illustrate another of Rose's pursuits; for it was crowded
with flowers of different kinds, which she had taken under her special
protection. A projecting turret gave access to this Gothic balcony,
which commanded a most beautiful prospect. The formal garden, with its
high bounding walls, lay below, contracted, as it seemed, to a mere
parterre; while the view extended beyond them down a wooded glen, where
the small river was sometimes visible, sometimes hidden in copse. The
eye might be delayed by a desire to rest on the rocks, which here and
there rose from the dell with massive or spiry fronts, or it might dwell
on the noble, though ruined tower, which was here beheld in all its
dignity, frowning from a promontory over the river. To the left were
seen two or three cottages, a part of the village; the brow of the hill
concealed the others. The glen, or dell, was terminated by a sheet of
water, called Loch-Veolan, into which the brook discharged itself, and
which now glistened in the western sun. The distant country seemed
open and varied in surface, though not wooded; and there was nothing to
interrupt the view until the scene was bounded by a ridge of distant and
blue hills, which formed the southern boundary of the strath or valley.
To this pleasant station Miss Bradwardine had ordered coffee.