Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1Scott, Walter
History
Waverley; or, 'Tis sixty years since — Volume 1
Scott, Walter
Historical fiction; Jacobite Rebellion, 1745-1746 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
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 farther 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 sung
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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