CHAPTER XI THE BANKWIT The entertainment was ample and handsome according to the scotch ideas of the period, and the guests did great honor to it. The baron ate like a famished soldier, the lair of Bumblewaple like a sportsman, bullseg of Killan Currit like a farmer, Waverly himself like a traveler, and Bailey McWeevill like all four together, though either out of more respect or in order to preserve that proper declination of person which showed a sense that he was in the presence of his patron, he sat upon the edge of his chair, placed at three feet distance from the table, and achieved a communication with his plate by projecting his person towards it in a line which obliqued from the bottom of his spine so that a person who sat opposite to him could only see the foretop of his riding periwig. This stooping position might have been inconvenient to another person, but long habit made it, whether seated or walking, perfectly easy to the worthy Bailey. In the latter posture it occasioned no doubt an unseemly projection of the person towards those who happened to walk behind. But those being at all times his inferiors, for Mr. McWeevill was very scrupulous in giving place to all others, he cared very little what inference of contempt or slight regard they might derive from the circumstance. Once when he waddled across the court to and from his old gray pony, he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking upon its hind legs. The non-juring clergyman was a pensive and interesting old man, with much of the air of a sufferer for conscience's sake. He was one of those who undeprived their benefits for Sook. For this whim, when the Baron was out of hearing, the Bailey used sometimes gently to rally Mr. Rubrick, abrading him with the nicety of his crouples. Indeed it must be owned that he himself, though at heart a keen partisan of the exiled family, had kept pretty fair with all the different turns of state in his time, so that Davey Gellatley once described him as a particularly good man who had a very quiet and peaceful conscience that never did him any harm. When the dinner was removed, the Baron announced the health of the king, politely leaving to the consciences of his guests to drink to the sovereign de facto or desjure, as their politics inclined. The conversation now became general, and shortly afterwards, Miss Bradwardine, who had done the honors with natural grace and simplicity, retired, and was soon followed by the clergymen. During the rest of the party, the wine, which fully justified the encomiums of the landlord, flowed freely round, although waverly, with some difficulty, obtained the privilege of sometimes neglecting the glass. At length, as the evening grew more late, the Baron made a private signal to Mr. Saunders Saundersen, or, as he facetiously denominated him, Alexander Ebb Alexandro, who left the room with a nod, and soon after returned, his grave countenance mantling with a solemn and mysterious smile, and placed before his master a small oaken casket, mounted with brass ornaments of curious form. The Baron, drawing out a private key, unlocked the casket, raised the lid, and produced a golden goblet of a singular and antique appearance, molded into the shape of a rampant bear, which the owner regarded with a look of mingled reverence, pride, and delight, that irresistibly reminded waverly of Ben Johnson's Tom Otter, with his bull, horse, and dog, as that way, wittily denominated his chief corousing cops. But Mr. Bradwardine, turning towards him with complacency, requested him to observe this curious relic of the olden time. It represents, he said, the chosen crust of our family, a bear, as ye observe, and rampant, because a good herald will depict every animal in its noblest posture, as a horse salient, a greyhound current, and, as may be inferred, a ravenous animal in actu ferociori, or in a voracious, lacerating, and devouring posture. Now, sir, we hold this most honorable achievement by the whopping brief, or concession of arms, of Frederick Redbeard, emperor of Germany, to my predecessor, Godman Bradwardine, it being the crust of a gigantic dain, whom he slew in the lists in the holy land, on a quarrel touching the chastity of the emperor's spouse or daughter, tradition saith not precisely which, and thus, as Virgilius hath it, mutimus clipios denaumke insignia nobis aptemus. Then, for the cup, captain Waverly, it was wrought by the command of St. Duthak, abbot of Aberbrothak, for behoof of another baron of the house of Bradwardine, who had valiantly defended the patrimony of that monastery against certain encroaching nobles. It is properly termed the blessed bear of Bradwardine, though old Dr. Dublate used jokosly to call it Ursa Major, and was supposed in olden Catholic times to be invested with certain properties of a mystical and supernatural quality. And though I give not in to such anilia, it is certain that it has always been esteemed a solemn standard cup and heirloom of our house. Nor is it ever used but upon seasons of high festival, and such I hold to be the arrival of the heir of Sir Everard under my roof, and I devote this draft to the health and prosperity of the ancient and highly-to-be-honored house of Waverly. During this long harangue, he carefully decanted a cobwebbed bottle of claret into the goblet, which held nearly an English pint, and, at the conclusion, delivering the bottle to the butler to be held carefully in the same angle with the horizon, he devoutly quaffed off the contents of the blessed bear of Bradwardine. Edward, with horror and alarm, beheld the animal making his rounds, and thought with great anxiety upon the appropriate motto, Beware the bear. But at the same time plainly foresaw that, as none of the guests scrupled to do him this extraordinary honor, a refusal on his part to pledge their courtesy would be extremely ill-received, resolving therefore to submit to this last piece of tyranny, and then to quit the table if possible, and confiding in the strength of his constitution, he did justice to the company in the contents of the blessed bear, and felt less inconvenience from the draft than he could possibly have expected. The others, whose time had been more actively employed, began to show symptoms of innovation. The good wine did its good office. The frost of etiquette and pride of birth began to give way before the genial blessings of this benign constellation, and the formal appellatives with which the three dignitaries had hitherto addressed each other were now familiarly abbreviated into Tully, Bally, and Killy. When a few rounds had passed, the two latter, after whispering together, craved permission, a joyful hearing for Edward, to ask the Grace Cup. This after some delay was at length produced, and waverly concluded the orgies of Bacchus were terminated for the evening. He was never more mistaken in his life. As the guests had left their horses at the small inn or change house, as it was called, of the village, the baron could not, in politeness, avoid walking with them up the avenue, and waverly from the same motive, and to enjoy, after this feverish revel the cool summer evening attended the party. But when they arrived at Lucky MacLeary's, the lads of Bama Waple and Kilinkurit declared their determination to acknowledge their sense of the hospitality of Tully Vaolin by partaking with their entertainer and his guest, Captain Waverly, what they technically called Diocan Dorwis, a stirrup cup. Footnote two, see note ten. End footnote. To the honor of the baron's roof tree. Note ten. I may hear mention that the fashion of computation described in the text was still occasionally practiced in Scotland in the author's youth. A company, after having taken leave of their host, often went to finish the evening at the clacken or village in Womb of Tavern. Their entertainer always accompanied them to take the stirrup cup, which often occasioned a long and late revel. The poculum potatorium of the valiant baron, his blessed bear, has a prototype at the fine old castle of Glamis, so rich in memorials of ancient times. It is a massive beaker of silver, double guilt, molded into the shape of a lion, and holding about an English pint of wine. The form alludes to the family name of Strathmore, which is Leon, and when exhibited, the cup must necessarily be emptied to the earl's health. The author ought perhaps to be ashamed of recording that he has had the honor of swallowing the contents of the lion, and the recollection of the feet served to suggest the story of the bear of Bradwardine. In the family of Scott of Thurlustain, not Thurlustain in the forest, but the place of the same name in Roxburghshire, was long preserved a cup of the same kind in the form of a jack boot. Each guest was obliged to empty this at his departure. If the guest's name was Scott, the necessity was doubly imperative. When the landlord of an inn presented his guests with joke and durris, that is, the drink at the door or the stirrup cup, the draft was not charged in the reckoning. On this point, a learned baili of the town of Forfar pronounced a very sound judgment. A. An alewife in Forfar had brewed her peck of malt and set the liquor out of doors to cool. The cow of B, a neighbor of A, chanced to come by, and seeing the good beverage, was alert to taste it, and finally to drink it up. When A came to take in her liquor, she found her tub empty, and from the cow's staggering and staring so as to betray her intemperance, she easily divined the mode in which her browsed had disappeared. To take vengeance on Crummy's ribs with a stick was her first effort. The roaring of the cow brought B, her master, who remonstrated with his angry neighbor, and received in reply a demand for the value of the ale which Crummy had drunk up. B refused payment, and was conveyed before C, the baili, or sitting magistrate. He heard the case patiently, and then demanded of the plaintiff A whether the cow had sat down to her quotation or taken it standing. The plaintiff answered she had not seen the deed committed, but she supposed the cow drank the ale while standing on her feet, adding that had she been near she would have made her use them to some purpose. The baili, on this admission, solemnly adjudged the cow's drink to be Dioc Enduris, a stirrup cup for which no charge could be made without violating the ancient hospitality of Scotland. End of note 10 It must be noticed that the baili, knowing by experience that the day's joviality, which had been hitherto sustained at the expense of his patron, might terminate partly at his own, had mounted his spab and gray pony, and between gaiety of heart and alarm for being hooked into a reckoning spurred him into a hobbling canter, a trot was out of the question, and had already cleared the village. The others entered the change house, leading Edward in unresisting submission, for his landlord whispered him that to demur to such an overture would be construed into a high misdemeanor against the laziest conviviales, or regulations of genial computation. Widow McCleary seemed to have expected this visit as well as she might, for it was the usual consummation of merry bouts, not only at Tully-Veolan, but at most other gentlemen's houses in Scotland sixty years since. The guests thereby at once acquitted themselves of their burden of gratitude for their entertainer's kindness, encouraged the trade of his change-house, did honour to the place which afforded harbour to their horses, and identified themselves for the previous restraints imposed by private hospitality by spending what ball-staff calls the sweet of the night in the genial license of a tavern. Accordingly, in full expectation of these distinguished guests, C. McCleary had swept her house for the first time this fortnight, tempered her turf fire to such a heat as the season required in her damp hovel even at mid-summer, set forth her deal-table newly washed, propped its lame foot with a fragment of turf, arranged four or five stools of huge and clumsy form upon the sites which best suited the inequalities of her clay floor, and, having moreover, put on her clean toy, rocolet, and scarlet plaid, quickly awaited the arrival of the company in full hope of custom and profit. When they were seated under the sooty rafters of Lucky McCleary's only apartment, thickly tapestryed with cobwebs, their hostess, who had already taken her cue from the lair of Balmawapal, appeared with a huge pewter measuring-pot containing at least three English quarts, familiarly denominated a tapet hen, and which, in the language of the hostess, reamed, i.e. mantled, with excellent claret, just drawn from the casque. It was soon plain that what crumbs of reason the bear had not devoured were to be picked up by the hen, but the confusion which appeared to prevail favored Edward's resolution to evade the gaily circling glass. The others began to talk thick and at once, each performing his own part in the conversation without the least respect to his neighbor. The baron of Bradwardine sunk French chaise-en-sobois and spouted pieces of Latin. Kilincurit talked, in a steady, unalterable dull key, of top dressing and bottom dressing, footnote, this has been censured as an anachronism, and it must be confessed that agriculture of this kind was unknown to the scotch sixty years since, and footnote, and year-olds and gimmers and dinments and stots and runts and kylos, and a proposed turnpike act, while Bama Waple, in notes exalted above both, extolled his horse, his hawks, and a greyhound called whistler. In the middle of this din, the baron repeatedly implored silence, and when at length the instinct of polite discipline so far prevailed that for a moment he obtained it, he hastened to beseech their attention unto a military ariette, which was a particular favorite of the marachal duke de berwick. Then imitating as well as he could the manner and tone of a French musketeer, he immediately commenced, mon corps volage d'il n'est pas pour vous, garçon, et pour une homme des guerres qui a barbe au menton, l'on, l'on, l'aridon, qui pourchapeau à plume sous les arrouges talons, qui joue à la flûte, aussi du vie l'on, l'on, l'on, l'aridon. Bama Waple could hold no longer, but broke in with what he called a dund good song, composed by Gibby Gay through it, the Piper of Kupar, and without wasting more time struck up. It's up Glen Barken's braise, I gave, and o'er the bent of kilabrade, and money a weary cast I made, to quittle the moor-foul's tale. Footnote. Sum Quique. This snatch of a ballad was composed by Andrew Macdonald, the ingenious and unfortunate author of Bimondah, and footnote. The baron, whose voice was drowned in the louder and more obsteporous strains of Bama Waple, now dropped the competition, but continued to hum, l'on, l'on, l'aridon, and to regard the successful candidate for the attention of the company with an eye of disdain, while Bama Waple proceeded, if up a bonny black cock should spring, to whistle him down with a slug in his wing, and strap him on to my l'unzy string, right seldom would I fail. After an ineffectual attempt to recover the second verse, he sung the first over again, and in prosecution of his triumph declared that there was more sense in that than in all the dairy-dongs of France, and fissure to the boot of it. The baron only answered with a long pinch of snuff and a glance of infinite contempt. But these noble allies, the bear and the hen, had emancipated the young l'arid from the habitual reverence in which he held Bradwardine at other times. He pronounced the clarit, shilpit, and demanded brandy with great vociferation. It was brought, and now the demon of politics envied even the harmony arising from this Dutch concert, merely because there was not a wrathful note in the strange compound of sounds which it produced. Inspired by her, the l'arid of Balmawapel, now superior to the nods and winks with which the baron of Bradwardine, in delicacy to Edward, had hitherto checked his entering upon political discussion, demanded a bumper with the lungs of a centaur, to the little gentleman in black velvet who did such service in 1702, and may the white horse break his neck over a mound of his making. Edward was not at that moment clear-headed enough to remember that King William's fall, which occasioned his death, was said to be owing to his horse stumbling at a mole hill, yet felt inclined to take umbrage at a toast which seemed, from the glance of Balmawapel's eye, to have a peculiar and uncivil reference to the government which he served. But ere he could interfere, the baron of Bradwardine had taken up the quarrel. Sir, he said, whatever my sentiments, Tanquam privatists may be in such matters, I will not teamly endure your saying anything that may impinge upon the honorable feelings of a gentleman under my roof. Sir, if you have no respect for the laws of urbanity, do ye not respect the military oath, the sacramentum militaire by which every officer is bound to the standards under which he is enrolled? Look at Titus Livius, what he says of these Roman soldiers who were so unhappy as exoer sacramentum to renounce their legionary oath, but you are ignorant, sir, alike of ancient history and modern courtesy. Not so ignorant as ye would pronounce me, roared Balmawapel, I can wheel what you mean the solemn league in Covenant, but if a da wigs in hell had taken the— Here the baron and waverly both spoke at once, the former calling out, Be silent, sir, ye not only show your ignorance but disgrace your native country before a stranger and an Englishman, and waverly at the same moment in treating Mr. Bradwardine to permit him to reply to an affront which seemed leveled at him personally, but the baron was exalted by wine, wrath, and scorn above all subliminary considerations. I crave you to be hushed, Captain Waverly, you are elsewhere per adventure, sui juri, for his familiate, that is, and entitled it may be, to think and resent for yourself, but in my domain in this poor barony of Bradwardine and under this roof, which is quasi mine, being held by tacit relocation by a tenant at will, I am in loco parentis to you, and bound to see you scathless. And for you, Mr. Falconer of Balmawapel, I warn ye, let me see no more aberrations from the paths of good manners. And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo-Comine Bradwardine of Bradwardine and Tully Baolin, retorted the sportsman in huge disdain, that I'll make a moorkock of the man that refuses my toast, whether it be a crop-eared English wig with a black ribbon at his lug, or any what deserts his ain't friends to cloth favor with the rats a handover. In an instant both rapiers were brandished, and some desperate passes exchanged. Balmawapel was young, stout, and active, but the baron, infinitely more master of his weapon, Wood, like Sertobi Belch, have tickled his opponent other gates than he did, had he not been under the influence of Ursa Major. Edward rushed forward to interfere between the combatants, but the prostrate bulk of the laird of Kilincurit, over which he stumbled, intercepted his passage. How Kilincurit happened to be in this recumbent posture, at so interesting a moment, was never accurately known. Some thought he was about to ensconce himself under the table. He himself alleged that he stumbled in the act of lifting a joint stool to prevent mischief by knocking down Balmawapel. Be that as it may, if ready or aid, then either his or Waverly's had not interposed, there would certainly have been bloodshed. But the well-known clash of swords, which was no stranger to her dwelling, aroused Lucky McLeary as she sat quietly beyond the halon or earthen partition of the cottage, with eyes employed on Boston's crook the lot, while her ideas were engaged in summing up the reckoning. She boldly rushed in with the shrill expostulation, wed their honors sleigh on another there, and bring discredit upon an honest widow woman's house, when there was ah the lee land in the country to fight upon, a remonstrance which she seconded by flinging her plaid with great dexterity over the weapons of the combatants. The servants by this time rushed in, and being by great chance, tolerably sober, separated the incensed opponents with the assistance of Edward and Killen Currit. The latter led off Balmawapel, cursing, swearing, and vowing revenge against every wig, presbyterian, and fanatic in England and Scotland, from Johnna Grotes to the land's end, and with difficulty got him to horse. Our hero, with the assistance of Saunders Saunderson, escorted the baron of Bradwardine to his own dwelling, but could not prevail upon him to retire to bed until he had made a long and learned apology for the events of the evening, of which, however, there was not a word intelligible, except something about the centaurs and the lapithae. End of Section 16. Section 17 of Waverly, Volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mike Harris. Waverly, or tis sixty years since Volume 1, by Sir Walter Scott. Section 17. Chapter 12. Repentance and a reconciliation. Waverly was unaccustomed to the use of wine, accepting with great temperance. He slept, therefore, soundly till late in the succeeding morning, and then awakened it to a painful recollection of the scene of the preceding evening. He received a personal affront, a gentleman, a soldier, and a Waverly. True, the person who offered it was not at the time it was given, possessed the moderate share of sense which nature had allotted him. True also, in resenting this insult, he would break the laws of heaven as well as of his country. True, in doing so, he might take the life of a young man who perhaps respectably discharged the social duties and render his family miserable, or he might lose his own, no pleasant alternative even to the bravest when it's debated coolly and in private. All is 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 Waverly, and he bore a commission. There was no alternative, and he descended to the breakfast parlor with the intention of taking leave of the family and writing to one of his brother officers to meet him at the inn midway between Tully Villalan and the town where they were quoted in order that he might convey such a message to the lair of Balma Wabble as the circumstances seemed to demand. He found Ms. Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee, the table loaded with warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and barley meal, in the shape of loaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties, together with eggs, reindeer ham, mutton, and beef ditto, smoked salmon, marmalade, and all the other delicacies which induced even Johnson himself to extol the luxury of a Scott's 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 buttermilk, was placed for the baron's share of this refast, but Rose observed he had walked out early in the morning after giving orders that his guests should not be disturbed. Waverly sat down almost in silence, and with an air of absence and abstraction which could not give Ms. Bradwardine a favorable 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. Dubnyet's favorite constellation of Ursa Major, as the cause of all the mischief which had already happened, and was likely to ensue. And once he started and his color heightened as looking toward the window, he beheld the baron and young Balmawapal pass arm in arm, apparently in deep conversation, and he hastily asked, did Mr. Falcon asleep here last night? Rose not much pleased with the abruptness of the first question which the young stranger had addressed to her, answered dryly in the negative, and the conversation again sunk into silence. At this moment Mr. Saunderson appeared with a message from his master, requesting to speak with Captain Waverly 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 sulleness or shame or both blanked the bold visage of Balmawapal. 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 Waverly, and, stopping in the midst of the apartment, made in great state the following oration. Captain Waverly, my young and esteemed friend, Mr. Falconer of Balmawapal, has craved of my age and experience, as of one not wholly unskilled in the dependencies and punctilios of the dweller or monomakya, to be his interlocutor in expressing to you the regret with which he calls to remembrance certain passages of our symposium 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 solicisms against the laws of politeness, as being, for his better reason, disavowed, and to receive the hand which he offers you in amity. And I must need to show you that nothing less than a sense of being Don Santort, as a gallant French chivalier, Monsieur de Begataire, once said to me on such an occasion, and an opinion also of your peculiar merit, which could have extorted such concessions. For he and all his family are and have been time out of mind ma vortia pectora, as Buchanan said, a bold and warlike sect or people. It would immediately and with natural likeness accepted the hand which Balmawapal or rather the baron in his character of mediator extended toward 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 ebrious or intoxicated, an incident which on solemn and festive occasions may and will take place in the life of a man of honor. And if the same gentleman, being fresh and sober, precance the contumilies which he hath spoken in his liquor, it must be held vinum locatum est, the word cease to be his own. Yet would I not find this exculpation relevant in the case of one who was ebriosis or 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 coat of politeness, but should learn to deport himself peaceably and courteously when under the influence of the venus 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 dissatisfactory an explanation, did much greater honor to the delicacies of Miss Bradwardine's breakfast table than his commencement had promised. Balmawapal on the contrary seemed embarrassed and dejected. And weaverly, 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 barren's invitation to taraitel after dinner, mounted his horse and returned to his own home. Waverly now announced his purpose of leaving Tullivilan 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 Waverly's consent to lengthen his visit for a few days than he labored to remove the grounds upon which he conceived he had meditated a more early retreat. I would not have you opine, Captain Waverly, that I am by practice a precept and advocate of ebriety, though it may be that in our festivity of last night some of our friends, if not perchance, altogether every eye or drunken, were to say the least every only, by which the agents designed those who were futile, or as your English vernacular and metaphorical phrase goes, half seize over. Not that I would so insinuate respecting you, Captain Waverly, who, like a prudent youth, did rather abstain from partition, nor can it be truly said of myself, who, having assisted the tables of many great generals and marishals at their solemn carousels, 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. Now 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 ebrioles, but verging to become ebrius, or, in plain English, was incomparably the most drunk of the party, except perhaps his antagonist at the lair of Balmauable. 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, gullse causa, for the oblectation of the govet. Albeit I might deprecate the law of pitticus of Mytoline, who punished doubly a crime committed under the influence of Deborah Potter, know would I utterly accede to the abjurgation 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 to the face, or in the language of Flockus Recepto Amaco. Thus terminated the apology, which the baron of Brandoidine 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 Davy Galatale should meet them at the Dern Path with Ban Busker. For until the shooting season commenced, I would willingly show you some sport, and we may, God willing, meet with a row. The row, Captain Waverly, may be hunted at all times alike, for never being in what is called pride of Greece, he is also never out of season. Though it may be a truth that his venison is not equal to that of either the red or fallow deer. Footnote, the learned in cookery dissent from the baron of Brandoidine, and hold the row venison dry in a different food, unless when dressed in soup and scotch collars. The baron continued, but he will serve to show how my dogs run, and therefore they shall attend us with David Galatale. Waverly expressed his surprise that his friend Davy was capable of such trust, but the baron gave him to understand that this poor simpleton was neither fatuous, neck natural, hiter, idiot, as is expressed in the breeze of the curiosity, but simply a crack brained nave, who could execute very well any commission which had jumped with his own humor, 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 Bailey are well founded, may perchance in his case be commensurate terms. Miss Bradwardine then gave Waverly to understand that this poor simpleton was dotingly 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 tombs and songs, which he sometimes applied with considerable address as the vehicles of remonstrance, explanation, or satire. Davy 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, for 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 have they held him decently clothed, provided for an even sort of favorite 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 David Gilatly was no farther fool than was necessary to avoid hard labor. 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 a gift of speech, and only surpass their powers of elocution to escape being set to work. But the hypothesis was entirely imaginary. David Gilatly 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 and 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 David's voice singing to the two large, dear Greyhounds. High away, high away, over bank and over bray, where the cop's wood is the greenest, where the fountain's glistened sheenest, where the lady fern grows strongest, where the morning dew lies longest, where the black cock's sweetest sips it, where the fairy latest trips it, high to the haunt's right seldom seen, lovely lonesome cool and green over bank and over bray, high away, high away. Do the verses he sings, as the Waverly, belong to old Scottish poetry, Ms. Bradwardine? I believe not, she replied. This poor creature had a brother, and heaven, as if to compensate to the family, David's deficiencies, had given him what the hamlet thought uncommon talents, and 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 David 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, that my father will not permit anyone to practice on his feelings on this subject. By this time the Baron, with the help of Mr. Saunderson, had endued a pair of jackboots 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 horse whip, and humming with the air of a chasseur of Louis Cataurs. Heur la chasse ordiné, il faut préparer deux. Oh, là, oh, vite, vite, beau. End of section 17. Recording by Mike Harris. File name, Waverly 1, underline 17, underline Scott. Section 18 of Waverly, volume 1. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mike Harris. Waverly, or it is sixty years since, volume 1 by Sir Walter Scott, section 18. Chapter 13. A more rational day than the last. The Baron of Bradwardine, mounted on an active and well-managed horse, and seated on a demi-pick saddle with deep housings to agree with his livery, was no bad representative of the old school, his light-colored embroidered coat and superbly barred waistcoat, his brigadier wigs, mounted 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 veil they found at David Galatly, leading two very tall, dear Greyhounds, and presiding over half a dozen curds, 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 Meester Galatly, though probably all in each had hooted him on former occasions in the character of Daft Davy. But this is no uncommon strain of flattery to persons in office, nor altogether confined to the bare-legged villagers of Tully v. Lan. It was in fashion sixty years since it is now, and will be six hundred years hence if this admirable compound of folly and navery called the world shall be then in existence. These killy wet-foots, as they were called, were destined to to beat the bushes, which they performed with so much success that, after half an hour's search, a row was started, coarsed, and killed. The baron following on his white horse like Earl Percy of Yor, and magnanimously flaying and emboweling the slain animal, which he observed was called by the French chasseurs, fer la curée, with his own baronial couture de chasse. After this ceremony he conducted his guest-homeward by a pleasant and circuitous row, 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 honorable feelings which his narrative displayed, and most 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 toward poetry. Mr. Bradwardine was the reverse of all this, and peaked himself upon stalking through life with the same upright, starched, stoical gravity which distinguished his evening promenade upon the terrace of Tully Vialon, where for hours together, the very model of old Hardinute, stately-stepped he east the wah, and stately-stepped he west. As for literature, he read the classic poets, to be sure, and the epithalamium of Georgeus Buchanan and Arthur Johnston's Psalms of a Sunday, and the Delike Potarum Scatorum, and Sir David Lindsay's Works, and Barber's Brace, and Blind Harry's Wallace, and the Gentle Shepard, and the Cherry and the Slay, 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 apathems, 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 Alan Ramsay, the periwig maker. Footnote, the Baron ought to have remembered that the joyous Alan literally drew his blood from the house of the noble Earl, whom he terms, Dalhousie of an old descent, my stoop, my pride, my ornament. But although Edward and he differed Toto Coelho, 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 combered 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 taste so opposite they contributed greatly to each other's amusement. Mr. Bradwardine's minute narratives and powerful memory supplied to Waverly fresh subject to the kind upon which his fancy loved to labour, and opened to him a new mind of incident and of character. And he repaid the pleasure thus communicated by an earnest attention, valuable to all storytellers, more especially to the Baron, who filled 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 tell a violin in great good humour with each other, Waverly 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 pure, or rather juveness, Bonais spae at Magna Indolis, a youth devoid of that petulant volatility which is impatient of, or vilipens, 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. Rubrik, whose information and discourse as a clergyman and a scholar harmonised 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 turned it, toisium etage. Waverly was accordingly conducted through one or two of those long awkward passages with which ancient architects studied it 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. Rubrik and Waverly 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 anti-room to Rose's sanctum sanctorum, and through which they entered her parlor. It was a small but pleasant department, 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-cheeked, staring visage in the portrait, and the gaunt bearded, hollow-eyed, swarly features which traveling, 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 laid of Tuleelum, Captain Waverly. I indicated the house to you when we were on the top of the shinny-huck. It was burnt by the Dutch auxiliaries brought in by the government in 1715. I never sat for my portraiture, but once since that was painted, and it was at the special and reiterated request of the Maryschal Duke of Berwick. The good old gentleman did not mention that Mr. Rubrik afterward told Edward that the Duke had done him this honor 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. Ms. Rose now appeared from the interior room of her apartment to welcome her father and his friends. The little labors 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 endeavored 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, and even this was not very common in Scotland at that period. To make amends, she sung with great taste and feeling, and with respect to the sense of what she uttered that might be proposed, an 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 a mortal verse. They are very often divorced by the performer in a most shameful manner. It was perhaps owing to the sensibility of 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, then could have been communicated by a much finer voice, and a more brilliant execution unguided by the same delicacy of feeling. A bartizan or projecting gallery before the windows of her parlor 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, with a small river was sometimes visible, sometimes hidden in copes. The eye might be delayed by a desired arrest on the rocks, which here and there rose from the dell, with massive or spirey 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 L'Occvialin, 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 strait, or valley. To this pleasant station Miss Bradwedine had ordered coffee. The view of the old tower, or Fort Elise, introduced some family anecdotes and tales of Scottish chivalry, which the Baron told with great enthusiasm. The projecting peak of an impending crag, which rose nearer, had acquired the name of Saint Swithin's Chair. It was the scene of a peculiar superstition, of which Mr. Rubrik mentioned some curious particulars, which reminded waverly of a rhyme quoted by Edgar and King Lear, and rose was called upon to sing a little legend, in which they had been interwoven by some village poet, who, noteless as the race from which he sprung, saved others' names, but left his own unsung. The sweetness of her voice and the simple beauty of her music gave all the advantage which the minstrel could have desired, and which his poetry so much wanted. I almost doubt if it can be read with patience, destitute of these advantages, although I conjecture the following copy to have been somewhat corrected by Waverly, to suit the taste of those who might not relish pure antiquity. Saint Swithin's Chair On Halamas Eve, ere ye bone ye to rest, ever beware that your couch be blessed, sign it with cross and sing it with bead, sing the ave and say the creed, for on Halamas eve the night hag will ride, and all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side, wither the wind sing lowly or loud, sailing through moonshine as swathed in the cloud. The lady she sat in Saint Swithin's Chair, the dew of the night has damped her hair, her cheek was pale, but resolved and high was the word of her lip and the glance of her eye. She muttered the spell of Swithin bold, when his naked foot traced the midnight world, when he stopped the hag as she wrote the night and bade her descend and her promise plight. He that dares sit on Saint Swithin's Chair, when the night hag wings the troubled air, questions three when he speaks the spell he may ask and she must tell. The Baron has been with King Robert his liege these three long years in battle and siege. News are there none of his wheel or his woe, and feign the lady his fate would know. She shudders and stops as the charm she speaks. Is it the moody hour that shrieks, or is it that sound betwixt laughter and scream, the voice of the demon who haunts the stream? The moan of the wind sunk silent and low, and the roaring torrent had ceased to flow. The calm was more dreadful and raging storm when the cold gray mist brought the ghastly form. I am sorry to disappoint the company, especially Captain Waverly, who listens with such laudable gravity. It is but a fragment, although I think there are other verses describing the return of the Baron from the wars, and how the lady was found clay-cold upon the ground celledge. It is one of those figments, observed Mr. Bradwardine, with which the early history of distinguished families was deformed in the times of superstition, as that of Rome and other ancient nations had their prodigies, the which you may read in ancient histories, or in the little work compiled by Julius Obsequens, and inscribed by the learned Shephard, the editor to his patron, Benedictus Skite, Baron of Dutershawf. My father has a strange defiance of the marvellous Captain Waverly, observed Rose, and once stood firm upon a whole synod of Presbyterian divines, were put to the rout by a sudden apparition of the foul fiend. Waverly looked, as if desirous to hear more. But must I tell my story as well as sing my song? Well, once upon a time there lived an old woman called Janet Galatley, who was suspected to be a witch, on the infallible grounds that she was very old, very ugly, very poor, and had two sons, one of whom was a poet and the other a fool, which, visitation all the neighborhood agreed, had come upon her for the son of witchcraft. And she was imprisoned for a week in the steeple of the parish church, and sparely supplied with food, and not permitted to sleep until she herself became as much persuaded of her being a witch as her accusers. And in this lucid and happy state of mind, was brought forth to make a clean breast, that is, to make open confession of her sorceries, before all the wig-gentry and ministers in the vicinity, who were no conjurers themselves. My father went to see fair play between the witch and the clergy, for the witch had been born on his estate, and while the witch was confessing that the enemy appeared, and made his addresses to her as a handsome black man, which, if you could have seen poor old Blair-eyed Janet, reflected little honour on Apollyon's taste. And while the auditors listened with astonished ears, and the clerk recorded with a trembling hand, she, all of a sudden, changed the low mumbling tone with which she spoke into a shrill yell, and exclaimed, Look to yourselves! Look to yourselves! I see the evil one sitting in the midst of you! The surprise was general, and terror inflated its immediate consequences. Happy were those who were next to the door, and many were the disasters that befell hats, bands, cuffs, and wigs, before they could get out of the church, where they left the obstinate pretetist to settle matters with the witch and her admirer at his own peril or pleasure. Rousseau's solventour a tabulae, said the Baron. When they recovered their panic trepidation, they were too much ashamed to bring any wakening of the process against Janet Galatly. 11. This anecdote led to a long discussion of all those idle thoughts and fantasies, devices, dreams, opinions, unsound, shows, visions, soothsays, and prophesies, and all that feigned is, as leasings, tales, and lies. With such conversation, and the romantic legends which it introduced, closed our hero's second evening in the house of Tully Villalon. 11. The story last told was said to have happened in the south of Scotland, but, cedent, armate, toge, and let the gown have its dues, it was an old clergyman who had wisdom and firmness enough to resist the panic which seized his brethren, who was the means of rescuing a poor insane creature from the cruel fate which would otherwise have overtaken her. The accounts of the trials for witchcraft form one of the most deplorable chapters in Scottish history. 11. The next day Edward arose for times, and in a morning walk around the house in its vicinity came suddenly upon a small court in front of the dog kennel, where his friend Davy was employed about his four-footed charge. One quick glance of his eye recognized waverly, when, instantly turning his back as if he had not observed him, he began to sing part of an old ballad. 12. Young men will love thee more fair and more fast, heard ye so marry the little bird sing? Old men's love the longest will last, and the throttle cock's head is under his wing. The young man's wrath is like light straw on fire, heard ye so marry the little bird sing? But like red-hot steel is the old man's ire, and the throttle cock's head is under his wing. The young man will brawl at the evening board, heard ye so marry the little bird sing? But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, and the throttle cock's head is under his wing. Waverly could not avoid observing that Davy laid something like a satirical emphasis on these lines. He therefore approached, and endeavored by sundry queries, to elicit from him what the innuendo might mean. But Davy had no mind to explain, and had wit enough to make his folly cloak his navery.  In the garden, however, he met the old butler, who no longer attempted to conceal that, having been bred in the nursery line with sumac and company of Newcastle, he sometimes wrought a turn in the flower-borders to oblige the laird in Miss Rose. By a series of queries Edward at length discovered, with a painful feeling of surprise and shame, that Almawaple's submission and apology had been the consequence of a rancontre with a baron before his guest had quitted his pillow, in which the younger combatant had been disarmed and wounded in the sword arm. Greatly mortified at this information, Edward sought out his friendly host, and anxiously apostolated with him upon the injustice he had done him in anticipating his meeting with Mr. Falconer, a circumstance which, considering his youth and the profession of arms which he had just adopted, was capable of being represented much to his prejudice. The baron justified himself at greater length than I'd choose to repeat. He urged that the quarrel was common to them, and that Almawaple could not, by the code of honour, invite giving satisfaction to both, which he had done in his case by an honourable meeting, and in that of Edward by such a palanode as rendered the use of the sword unnecessary, and which, being made and accepted, must necessarily supide the whole affair. With this excuse or explanation waverly was silenced, if not satisfied, but he could not help testifying some displeasure against the blessed bear which had given rise to the quarrel, nor refrained from hinting that the sanctified epithet was hardly appropriate. The baron observed he could not deny that the bear, though allowed by heralds as the most honourable ordinary, had nevertheless somewhat fierce, cherlish, and morose in his disposition, as might be read in Archibald Simpson, pastor of Dalkees, Hieroglyphica, and Amalium, and had thus been the type of many quarrels and dissensions which had occurred in the house of Bradwardain, of which, he continued, I might commemorate my known unfortunate dissension with my third cousin by my mother's side, Sir Hugh Halbert, who was so unthinking as to deride my family name, as if it had been quasi-bear Warden, a most uncivil jest, since it not only insinuated that the founder of our house occupied such a mean situation as to be a custodier of wild beasts, a charge which, he must have observed, is only entrusted to the very basis plebeians, but, moreover, seemed to infer that our coat-armour had not been achieved by honourable actions in war, but bestowed by way of pyranomagia or pun upon our family appellation, a sort of bearing which the French call armoire parlante, the Latin's arma contentia, and your English authorities canting heraldry, footnote, c-note twelve, being indeed a species of emblazoning, more befitting cantors, gabberloonsies, and such like mendicants, whose gibberish is formed upon playing upon the word, then the noble, honourable, and useful science of heraldry, which assigns our memorial bearings as the reward of noble and generous actions, and not to tickle the ear with vain quadlebets, such as are found in jest-books. Of his quarrel with Sir Hugh he said nothing more than that it was settled in a fitting manner. Note twelve. Although canting heraldry is generally reprobated, it seems, nevertheless, to have been adopted in the arms and mottos of many honourable families. Thus the motto of the vernins, veron semper verrette, is a perfect pun, and so is that of the onsloes, festinalente. The purism ne-purism of the unstruthers is liable to a similar objection. One of that ancient race finding that an antagonist with whom he had fixed a friendly meeting was determined to take the opportunity of assassinating him, prevented the hazard by dashing out his brains with a battle-axe. Two sturdy arms, brandishing such a weapon, formed the usual crest of the family, with the above motto, purism ne-purism. I had died unless I had gone through with it. Having been so minute with respect to the diversions of Tulliviolan on the first days of Edward's arrival, for the purpose of introducing its inmates to the reader's acquaintance, it becomes less necessary to trace the progress of his intercourse with the same accuracy. It is probable that a young man accustomed to more cheerful society would have tired of the conversation of so violent an assurter of the boast of heraldry as the baron. But Edward found an agreeable variety in that of Miss Bradwardine, who listened with eagerness to his remarks upon literature, and showed great justness of taste in her answers. The sweetness of her disposition had made her submit with complacency and even pleasure to the course of reading prescribed by her father, although it not only comprehended several heavy folials of history, but certain gigantic tomes in high church polemics. In heraldry he was fortunately contented to give her only such a slight tincture, as might be acquired by perusal of the two folial volumes of Nisbet. Rose was indeed the very apple of her father's eye. Her constant liveliness, her attention to all those little observances, most gratifying to those who would never think of exacting them, her beauty in which he recalled the features of his beloved wife, her unfamed piety, and the noble generosity of her disposition, would have justified the affection of the most doting father. His anxiety on her behalf did not, however, seem to extend itself in that quarter where, according to the general opinion, it is most efficiently displayed, in laboring, namely, to establish her in life, either by a large dowry or a wealthy marriage. By an old settlement almost all the landed estates of the baron went, after his death, to a distant relation, and it was supposed that Miss Bradworthy would remain but slenderly provided for, as the good gentleman's cash matters had been too long under the exclusive charge of Bailey McWeable to admit of any great expectations from his personal succession. It is true the said Bailey loved his patron and his patron's daughter next, though at an incomparable distance to himself. He thought it was possible to set aside the settlement on the male line, and had actually procured an opinion to that effect, and, as he boasted, without a fee, from an imminent Scottish council, under whose notice he can drive to bring the point while consulting him regularly on some other business. But the baron would not listen to such a proposal for an instant. On the contrary, he used to have a perverse pleasure in boasting that the barony of Bradworthy was a male thief, the first charter having been given at that early period when women were not deemed capable to hold a feudal grant, because, according to THE COSTUMES DE NORMUNDE, CELUM QUE SU BASTE HE GONCE, or, as is yet more ungallantly expressed by other authorities, all of whose barbarous names he delighted to quote at full length, because a woman could not serve the superior or feudal lord in war, on account of the decorum of her sex, nor a system with advice because of her limited intellect, nor keep his council owing to the infirmity of her disposition. He would triumphantly ask how it would become a female, and that female a Bradworthy, to be seen employed in CER VIDEO EXU ENDEI, SUE DETRA ENDEI, COLLEGUS REGIS POST POTALIUM, that is, in pulling off the king's boots after an engagement, which was the feudal service by which he held the barony of Bradworthy. No, he said, beyond hesitation, procul dubio, many females as worthy as Rose had been excluded, in order to make way for my own succession, and heaven forbid that I should do ought that might contraven the destination of my forefathers, or impinge upon the right of my kinsmen, Malcolm Bradworthy of Inchgrabbit, an honorable, though decayed, branch of my own family. The Bailey, as Prime Minister, having received this decisive communication from his sovereign, durst not press his own opinion any farther, but contended himself with deploring on all suitable occasions to Saunderson, the minister of the interior, the Laird's self-wildness, and with laying plans for uniting Rose with the young Laird of Balmawaple, who had a fine estate, only moderately burdened, and was a faultless young gentleman, being as sober as a saint, if you keep Brandy from him and him from Brandy, and who, in brief, had no imperfection, but that of keeping light company at a time, such as Jinker, the horse-cooper, and Gibby Gaythruit, the piper of Coupar. Awoke follies, Mr. Saunderson, human, human, pronounced the Bailey. Like sour ale and simmer, added Davy Galately, who happened to be nearer the conclave than they were aware of. Miss Bradworthy, such as we have described her, with all the simplicity and curiosity of a recluse, attached herself to the opportunities of increasing her store of literature, which Edwards' visit afforded her. He sent for some of his books from his quarters, and they opened to her sources of delight, of which she had hitherto had no idea. The best English poets, of every description, and other works on Bell at her, made a part of this precious cargo. Her music, even her flowers, were neglected, and Saunders not only mourned over but began to mutiny against the labour for which he now scarce received thanks. These new pleasures became gradually enhanced by sharing them with one of a kindred taste. Edwards' readiness to comment, to recite, to explain difficult passages, rendered his assistance invaluable, and the wild romance of his spirit delighted a character too young and inexperienced to observe its deficiencies. Upon subjects which interested him, and when quite at ease, he possessed that flow of natural and somewhat floored eloquence, which has been supposed as powerful even as figure, fashion, fame or fortune in winning the female heart. There was therefore an increasing danger in this constant intercourse to poor Rose's peace of mind, which was the more imminent as her father was greatly too much abstracted in his studies, and wrapped up in his own dignity to dream of his daughters incurring it. The daughters of the House of Bradwardine were, in his opinion, like those of the House of Bourbon or Austria, placed high above the clouds of passion which might obfuscate the intellects of meaner females. They moved in another sphere, were governed by other feelings, and amenable to other rules than those of vital and fantastic affection. In short, he shut his eyes so resolutely to the natural consequences of Edward's intimacy with Miss Bradwardine that the whole neighborhood concluded that he had opened them to the advantages of a match between his daughter and the wealthy young Englishman, and pronounced him much less a fool than he had generally shown himself in cases where his own interest was concerned. If the Baron, however, had really meditated such an alliance, the indifference of Waverly would have been an insuperable bar to his project. Our heroes, since mixing more freely with the world, had learned to think with great shame and confusion upon his mental legend of Saint Cecilia, and the vexation of these reflections was likely, for some time at least, to counterbalance the natural susceptibility of his disposition. Besides Rose Bradwardine, beautiful and amiable as we have described her, had not precisely the sort of beauty or merit which captivates a romantic imagination in early youth. She was too frank, too confiding, too kind, amiable qualities undoubtedly, but destructive of the marvelous, with which a youth of imagination delights to dress the empress of his affections. Was it possible to bow, to tremble, and to adore before the timid yet playful little girl, who now asked Edward to mend her pen, now to construe a stanza in Tazo, and now how to spell a very, very long word in her version of it. All these incidents have their fascination on the mind at a certain period of life, but not when a youth is entering it, and rather looking out for some object whose affection may dignify him in his own eyes, than stooping to one who looks up to him for such distinction. Hence, though there can be no rule in so capricious a passion, early love is frequently ambitious in choosing its object, or which comes to the same selects her, as in the case of Saint Cecilia Forsed, from a situation that gives fair scope for a bow ideal, which the reality of intimate and familiar life rather tends to limit and impair. I knew a very accomplished and sensible young man, cured of a violent passion for a pretty woman, whose talents were not equal to her face and figure, by being permitted to bear her company for a whole afternoon. Thus it is certain that had Edward enjoyed such an opportunity of conversing with Miss Stubbs, Aunt Rachel's precaution would have been unnecessary, for he would as soon have fallen in love with the dairymaid. And although Miss Bradward Dean was a very different character, it seems probable that the very intimacy of their intercourse prevented his feeling for her other sentiments than those of a brother for an amiable and accomplished sister, while the sentiments of poor Rose were gradually, and without her being conscious, assuming a shade of warmer affection. I ought to have said that Edward, when he sent to Dundee for the books before mentioned, had applied for and received permission extending his leave of absence, but the letter of his commanding officer contained a friendly recommendation to him. Not to spend his time exclusively with persons who, estimable, as they might be in a general sense, could not be supposed well affected to a government which they had declined to acknowledge by taking the oath of allegiance. The letter further insinuated though with great delicacy, that although some family connections might be supposed to render it necessary for captain Waverly to communicate with gentlemen who were in this unpleasant state of suspicion, yet his father's situation and wishes ought to prevent his prolonging those attentions into exclusive intimacy. And it was intimated that, while his political principles were endangered by communicating with laymen of this description, he might also receive erroneous impressions in religion from the prolatic clergy who so perversely labored to set up the royal prerogative in things sacred, this last insinuation probably induced Waverly to set both down to the prejudices of his commanding officer. He was sensible that Mr. Bradwardine had acted with the most scrupulous delicacy in never entering upon any discussion that had the most remote tendency to bias his mind in political opinions. Although he was himself not only a decided partisan of the exiled family, but had been trusted at different times with important commissions for their service. Sensible therefore that there was no risk of his being perverted from his allegiance, Edward felt as if he should do his uncle's old friend injustice in removing from a house where he gave and received pleasure and amusement merely to gratify a prejudice and ill judge suspicion. He therefore wrote a very general answer, assuring his commanding officer that his loyalty was not in the most distant danger of contamination, and continued an honoured guest and inmate of the house of Tully Violin. End of Section 19, Chapter 14. Section 20 of Waverly, Volume 1. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Waverly, or to 60 years since, Volume 1 by Sir Walter Scott. Section 20, Chapter 15. A Krieg and Its Consequences. When Edward had been a guest at Tully Violin nearly six weeks, he described one morning as he took his usual walk before the breakfast hour, signs of uncommon perturbation in the family. Four bare-legged dairy-maids, with each an empty milk-pail in her hand, ran about with frantic gestures and uttering loud exclamations of surprise, grief and resentment. From their appearance a pagan might have conceived them a detachment of the celebrated balladies, just come from their bailing penance. As nothing was to be got from this distracted chorus, excepting, Lord, guide us, and asses, ejaculations which threw no light upon the course of their dismay, Waverly repaired to the forecourt, as it was called, where he beheld Bailey McQueenville, cantering his white pony down the avenue with all the speed it could muster. He had arrived at Wood-Same upon a hasty summons, and was followed by half a score of peasants from the village who had no great difficulty in keeping pace with him. The Bailey, greatly too busy and too important to enter into explanations with Edward, summoned forth Mr. Saunderson, who appeared with the countenance in which dismay was mingled with solemnity, and they immediately entered into close conference. Davie Galataly was also seen in the group, idle as deogenes at Sinopay, while his countrymen were preparing for a siege. His spirits always rose with anything good or bad, which occasioned tumult, and he continued frisking, hopping, dancing, and singing the burden of an old ballad, Orygaris Argyne. Until happening to pass too near the Bailey, he received an admonitory hint from his horse whip, which converted his songs into lamentation. Passing from the entrance towards the garden, Waverly beheld the Baron in person, measuring and remeasuring with swift and tremendous strides the length of the terrace. His countenance clouded with offended pride and indignation, and the whole of his demeanour, such as seemed to indicate that any inquiry concerning the cause of his discomposure would campaign at least, if not offence. Waverly, therefore, glided into the house without addressing him, and took his way to the breakfast parlor, where he found his young friend Rose, who, though she, neither exhibited the resentment of her father, the turbid importance of Bailey McQueenville, nor the despair of the handmaidens, seemed vexed and thoughtful. A single word explained the mystery. Your breakfast will be a disturbed one, Captain Waverly.  A party of catarans? Yes, robbers from the neighbouring Highlands. We used to be quite free from them while we paid blackmail to Fergus McIver, Vichon Vorre. But my father thought it unworthy of his rank and birth to pay it any longer, and so this disaster has happened. It is not the value of the cattle, Captain Waverly, that vexes me. But my father is so much hurt at their front, and is so bold and hot, that I fear he will try to recover them by the strong hand, and if he has not hurt himself, he will hurt some of these wild people, and then there will be no peace between them and us, perhaps for our lifetime. And we cannot defend ourselves as in old times, for the government have taken all our arms, and my dear father is so rash. Oh, what will become of us? Here poor Rose lost heart altogether, and burst into a flood of tears. The Baron entered at this moment, and rebuked her with more disparity than Waverly had ever heard him use to anyone. Was it not a shame, he said, that she should exhibit herself before any gentleman in such a light, as if she shed tears for a drove of horned knelt and milch kind, like the daughter of a Cheshire yeoman? Captain Waverly, I must request your favorable construction of her grief, which may or ought to proceed solely from seeing her father's estate exposed to spulsey and depredation from common thieves and saunas, while we are not allowed to keep half a score of muskets, whether for defense or rescue. Bailly McWeable entered immediately afterwards, and by his report of arms and ammunition, confirmed the statement informing the Baron, in a melancholy voice, that though the people would certainly obey his honour's orders, yet there was no chance of there following the gearet or any geared In respect, there were only his honour's body servants who had swords and pistols, and the depredators were 12 Highlanders completely armed after the manner of their country. Having delivered this doleful enunciation, he assumed a posture of silent dejection, shaking his head slowly with the motion of a pendulum when it is ceasing to vibrate, and then remained stationary. His body stooping at a more acute angle than usual, and the latter part of his person projecting in proportion. The Baron meanwhile paced the room in silent indignation, and at length fixing his eye upon an old portrait, whose person was clad in armour, and whose features glared grimly out of a huge bush of hair, part of which descended from his head to his shoulders, and part from his chin and upper lip to his breastplate. That gentleman, Captain Waverly, my grand sire, he said, with two hundred horse whom he levied within his own bounds, discomfited and put to the rut more than five hundred of these Highland Reavers, who have been ever lapis offensionis et patris gandali, a stumbling block and a rock of offence to the lowland vicinage. He discomfited them, I say, when they had the temerity to descend to Harry this country, in the time of the civil dissensions, in the year of grace sixteen hundred forty and two, and now sir I, his grandson, am thus used at such unworthy hands. Here there was an awful pause, after which all the company, as is usual in cases of difficulty, began to give separate and inconsistent counsel. Alexander, ab Alexandro, proposed they should send someone to compound with the catarans, who would readily, he said, give up their prey for a dollar ahead. The baili opined that this transaction would amount to theft boot, or composition of felony, and he recommended that some canny hand should be sent up to the glens to make the best bargain he could, as it were for himself, so that the led might not be seen in such a transaction. Edward proposed to send off to the nearest garrison for a party of soldiers and to magistrates warrant, and rose as far as she did, and devoured to insinuate the course of paying the arrears of tribute money to Fergus McIver, Vic-Yanvor, who they all knew, could easily procure a restoration of the cattle if he were properly propitiated. None of these proposals met at the baron's approbation. The idea of composition, direct or implied, was absolutely ignominious. That of Waverly only showed that he did not understand the state of the country, and of the political parties which divided it. And standing matters as they did with Fergus McIver, Vic-Yanvor, the baron would make no concession to him, where it, he said, to procure restitution in integrem of every sterk and stock that the chief, his forefathers and his clan, had stolen since the days of Malcolm Canmore. In fact, his voice was still for war, and he proposed to send expresses to Balmawapu, Kilinkuret, Talilam, and other lads who were exposed to similar depredations, inviting them to join in the pursuit. And then, sir, shall these nebulonies nequissimi, as Lislas calls them, be brought to the fate of their predecessor Cacus, Elisos Oculos etsikum sangwene gutta, the Bailey, who by no means relished these war-like councils, here pulled forth an immense watch of the colour, and nearly of the size, of a putre warming pan, and observed it was now past noon, and that the catarans had been seen in the past of Barry Braw soon after sunrise, so that, before the Allied forces could assemble, they and their prey would be far beyond the reach of the most active pursuit, and sheltered in those pathless deserts, where it was neither advisable to follow, nor indeed possible to trace them. This proposition was undeniable. The council, therefore, broke up without coming to any conclusion, as has occurred to councils of more importance. Only it was determined that the Bailey should send his own three milk-cars down to the mains for the use of the Baron's family, and brew small ale as a substitute for milk in his own. To this arrangement, which was suggested by Saunderson, the Bailey readily assented, both from habitual deference to the family, and an internal consciousness that his courtesy would, in some mode or other, be repaid tenfold. The Baron, having also retired to give some necessary directions, waverly seized the opportunity to ask whether this Fergus, with the unpronounceable name, was the chief thief-taker of the district. Thief-taker, answered Rose, laughing, he is a gentleman of great honour and consequence, the chieftain of an independent branch of a powerful Highland clan, and is much respected, both for his own power and that of his kith, kin, and allies. And what is he to do with the thieves, then? Is he a magistrate, or in the commission of the peace, asked waverly? The commission of war, rather, if there be such a thing, said Rose. For he is a very unquiet neighbour to his unfriends, and keeps a greater following on foot than many that have thrice his estate. As to his connection with the thieves, that I cannot well explain, but the boldest of them will never steal a hoof from anyone that pays blackmail to young boy. And what is blackmail? A sort of protection money, that low-country dental men and heritors, lying near the Highlands, pay to some Highland chief, that he may neither do them harm himself, nor suffer it to be done to them by others.  Put a note, see note 13. MacDonald of Barrisdale, one of the very last Highland dental men who carried on the plundering system to any great extent, was a scholar and a well-bred dental man. He engraved on his broad swords the well-known lines, high to be errant Arte Spachisque in Panere Moriam, Parchere subjectes et debilare superibos. Indeed, the levying of blackmail was, before 1745, practised by several chiefs of very high rank, who, in doing so, contended that they were lending the laws the assistance of their arms and swords, and affording a protection which could not be obtained from the magistracy in the disturbed state of the country. The author had seen a memoir of MacPherson of Clooney, chief of that ancient clan, for which it appears that he levied protection money to a very large amount, which was willingly paid even by some of his most powerful neighbours. A gentleman of this clan, hearing a clergyman hold forth to his congregation on the crime of theft, interrupted the preacher to assure him he might leave the enforcement of such doctrines to Clooney MacPherson, whose broadsword would put a stop to theft sooner than all the sermons of all the ministers of the Synod. And is this sort of Highland Jonathan Wilde admitted into society and called a gentleman? So much so, said Rose, that the quarrel between my father and Fergus McIver began at a county meeting where he wanted to take precedence of all the lowland gentlemen then present, only my father would not suffer it. And then he uprated my father that he was under his banner and paid him tribute, and my father was in a towering passion for Bailey McWeable, who manages such things his own way, had contrived to keep this blackmail a secret from him, and passed it in his account for cease-money. And they would have fought, but Fergus McIver said, very garnedly, he would never raise his hand against a grey head that was so much respected as my father's. Oh, I wish they had continued friends. And did you ever see this Mr. McIver, if that be his name, Ms. Bradford Dean? No, that is not his name. And he would consider master as a sort of a front, only that you are an Englishman and no, no better. But the lowlanders call him, like other gentlemen, by the name of his estate, Glenocoic, and the Highlanders call him Vichyanvor, that is the son of John the Great, and we, upon the braze here, call him by both names, indifferently. I am afraid I shall never bring my English tongue to call him by either one or other. But he is a very polite, handsome man, continued Rose, and his sister Fleur is one of the most beautiful and accomplished young ladies in this country. She was bred in a convent in France and was a great friend of mine before this unhappy dispute. Dear Captain Waverly, try your influence with my father to make matters up. I am sure this is but the beginning of our troubles. Fortale violin has never been a safe or quiet residence when we have been at feud with the Highlanders. When I was a girl about 10, there was a skirmish fought between a party of 20 them and my father and his servants behind the mains, and the bullets broke several pains in the north windows, they were so near. Three of the Highlanders were killed and they brought them in, wrapped in their plates and laid them on the stone floor of the hall, and next morning their wives and daughters came, clapping their hands and crying the coronak and shrieking and carried away the dead bodies with the pipes playing before them. I could not sleep for six weeks without starting and thinking I heard these terrible cries and saw the bodies lying on the steps all stiff and swathed up in their bloody tartans. But since that time there came a party from the garrison at Sterling with a warrant from the Lord Justice Clark, or some such great man, and took away all our arms, and now how are we to protect ourselves if they come down in any strength? Waverly could not help starting at a story which bore so much resemblance to one of his own daydreams. Here was a girl, scarce 17, the gentlest of her sex, both in temper and appearance, who had witnessed with her own eyes such a scene as he had used to conjure up in his imagination as only occurring in ancient times, and spoke of it coolly as one very likely to recur. He felt at once the impulse of curiosity and that slight sense of danger which only serves to heighten its interest. He might have said with Malvolio, I do not now fool myself to let imagination jade me. I am actively in the land of military and romantic adventures, and it only remains to be seen what will be my own share in them. The whole circumstance is now detailed concerning the state of the country, seemed equally novel and extraordinary. He had indeed often heard of highland thieves, but had no idea of the systematic mode in which their depredations were conducted, and that the practice was connived at, and even encouraged by many of the highland chieftains, who not only found the craigs or forays useful for the purpose of training individuals of their clan to the practice of arms, but also of maintaining a wholesome terror among their lowland neighbours, and levering, as we have seen, a tribute from them under colour of protection money. Bailey McWeable, who soon afterwards entered, expatiated still more at length upon the same topic. This honest gentleman's conversation was so formed upon his professional practice that David Galatley once said his discourse was like a charge of horning. He assured our hero that, from the most ancient times are record, the lawless thieves, limerals and broken men of the highlands, had been in fellowship together by a reason of their serenames, for the committing of diverse thefts, reefs and hereships upon the honest men of the low country, when they not only intermitted with their holy goods and gear, corn, cattle, horse, knelt, sheep, out-sight and in-sight planishing, at their wicked pleasure, but, moreover, made prisoners, ransomed them, or concussed them into giving boroughs, pledges, to enter into captivity again. All which was directly prohibited in diverse parts of the statute book, worth by the Act 1567, and various others, the Wilk statutes, with all that had followed, and might follow thereupon, were a shamefully broken, and very depended by the said soreness, limerals and broken men associated into fellowships, for the aforesaid paraphrases of theft, stuth-rief, fire-raising, murder, rotus miliarum, or a versable abduction of women, and such luke as aforesaid. It seemed like a dream to waverly that these deeds of violence should be familiar to men's minds, and currently talked of as falling within the common order of things, and happening daily in the immediate vicinity, without us having crossed the seas, and while he was yet in the otherwise well-ordered island of Great Britain.


should you give the narcissist another chance. When you decided to cut contact with the narcissist, when you decided to get away from them, there was a reason why you decided to do that. There were things that were said or done that you did not like. Things that were not in your best interest. And that is why you no longer wanted anything to do with them. Mae'r rhaid o'r dros'u bydd yma che ma' hwnnw fwy o'r cwrs ac yna'r wneud eu cyfnodd yn cwrs mewn teimlo i'r byth byd ac mae'r bobl yn hyn bydd ychydig ma'na rhaid i ddistangani a'u croeso a'r bobl yn weithredd a'r bobl yn ni'r byd. Mae'n groedd cymorth beth gyda'r llwyno mae'n gallu cyfrif yn ymgylchedd cyflym ac mae'n gallu llyffer ac mae'r cyflores The believe that it gives them enough reason to harm you They see it as though you abandoned them As though you seems to be there for them When in actuality you got filled up with how they were treating you Yet it is your response to their abusive actions And your actions of trying to prevent any further harm While you did theᵍ protect yourself that is what they are mad about, that is what makes them want to get revenge and it makes them want to cause even more harm to you.  The narcissist needs to get you to give your attention and consideration to the thought or idea that you were a part of the origin of that problem. If you give your attention and consideration to that thought or idea, it becomes an opportunity for them to come back into your life because it suggests that it wasn't all their fault and you played a part in the problem. When the reality is that in every situation they are in, they are always experiencing arguments and disagreements. They are always causing or intending to cause harm or trouble. These are the basic and inherited features. They just have to convince you that you were a part of the problem. They have to convince you that you are the reason why they are behaving that in that way. If you believe in what they are telling you, they can then hold you as being equally responsible for the problems that occurred. They have to pull you into their world of deviating from the norms of social behaviour. Do not give your attention or consideration to the thought or idea that you were a part of the problem. They brought those unfortunate conditions or events on themselves. If you look at the origin of the problem, you will see that they caused it. They just refuse to acknowledge it. They refuse to take responsibility for their actions. When a person is genuinely distressed through sympathy for your misfortune, they will not be bitter or resentful. They will not hold a grudge against you because they will realise and accept that they brought that unfortunate condition or event on themselves. An emotionally healthy person can use reasoning to reach that judgment or decision, but the narcissist has such an exaggerated sense of their own value and importance which makes it very difficult for them to come to that kind of judgment or decision and then it's even more difficult for them to genuinely express that to you. It is very difficult for them to hold themselves accountable for their actions because then that would confirm to you that they are the source of the problem. It would only remind you of the reason why you are not with them. They know that would be the outcome if they were to openly acknowledge what they have done wrong. It puts them in a situation where they can only lose so they have to convince you that you are also a part of the issue. Then you can reunite to resolve the situation, but it never works out in that way. Nothing ever gets resolved because you are not a part of the issue. So there is nothing that you can do to correct it. There is nothing that you can do to suddenly make things right again because it has nothing to do with you. They are the source of the problem. So only they can correct it. But to do that they would first have to hold themselves accountable for their actions and that's just something they're not going to do. They're not even going to acknowledge that they had anything to do with it unless they can use it as a way to manipulate you. And even then it's not genuine. The narcissist already knows that they have issues. They already know that they have a problem. They are out of control within themselves which then reflects in their behaviour and they have no interest in changing their behaviour. When you think about giving the narcissist another chance they are only trying to convince you that something has changed. They are only trying to convince you that it is worth giving them another try. But when you let them back into your life they are going to do the same thing again. Only this time it will be worse. They are known for holding grudges. They are known for being bitter and resentful. They are known for having that eye for an eye mentality. If you give the narcissist another chance they are only going to do something else. They are only going to cause more problems for you and it will feel as though they never even apologise to you. They will make you feel as though you are now a burden for them in their lives. Everything that they do to you. They will find a way to justify it. Even though there is no justification for most of the things that they do. They will find a way to justify it in their minds. They don't think about things before they do it. They don't consider the consequences of their actions. They only experience a sudden, strong and unreflective urge or desire to act. They react to perceived insults or perceived acts of disrespect and then hold grudges and become bitter and resentful towards you. If you take the narcissist back you will have to deal with their feelings of bitterness and resentment which is built up since you were last with them. If you take them back at some point they are going to use their feelings as a justification for causing you more harm. There is no winning with the narcissist. They have a very limited awareness of their behaviour and they can't see the effects that it is having on them because all they are really focused on is their feelings. Their feelings dictate their behaviour. They act on their feelings and they burn bridges. They destroy connections and opportunities and then they want to come back with an apology and they think that it will solve everything. It won't solve anything and you should not let them trick you into believing that it will solve anything because it won't. The things that they have done to you should never be forgotten. You should never justify what they have done or accept their apology and you should never have any consideration or respect for people who do what they do. You should never let them back into your life. You can forgive them. You can stop feeling angry or resentful towards them and that will actually be very healing for you but you cannot give them another chance. You cannot let them back into your life. You have to move on. They are very dangerous. They are likely to cause harm to you. They are likely to cause problems. Cut them off and move on with your life without them. The narcissist game is to make you believe that they are the missing piece to your puzzle.  The only thing stopping you from ever being you from ever being happy from ever living your life. Thank you for watching. I hope this video resonated with you. Please like, comment, share and subscribe. Click the bell icon to receive notifications for my future videos. If you are delighted tonight my PayPal link is in the video description. Coaching and inquiries you can email me at nogsforvecoaching at gmail.com Thank you for watching and I'll talk to you soon.


Hello, my name is Jörg Rapp, I am the Educational Director of the Department of Organization Studies here at Tilburg University and I would like to welcome you to the open day here on the internet. I am originally from Germany but I have been working here for several years and in this clip and the next clips I would like to give you some of the ins and outs of the Masters of Organization Studies. Organizations are everywhere. Almost all goods and services nowadays are produced by organizations or in organizations. They are very useful, they help us to achieve a lot of things. If you think for example about your day to day, you woke up with probably the radio which is an organization, you switched on the electricity which is an organization, you switched on the water delivered by the waterworks which is an organization and now you are listening to a clip that has been produced by an organization. However, organizations can also miserably fail or they can do great damage or even commit crimes. Here in the Masters of Organization Studies we focus on complexity and dynamics which is the question to what extent are organizations embedded in relations and networks with other organizations and to what extent are they able to adjust themselves to changes in the environment. The Masters of Organization Studies provides a great insight into all sorts of present day organizations so we do not exclusively focus on private organizations or non-profit organizations but look at the big range of today's organizations and the theories that help us explain why they function and why they might fail. We follow an interdisciplinary approach so we look at literature and research from psychology, from sociology, also from business studies and economics. We have a very strong focus on analytical skills so if you are interested in how to analyze problems that are deeply rooted then this is the program for you. If however you want to look more for a very hands on how to do things approach then you might be better off at another program. In that endeavor we link the program very closely to the departmental research program and I'll get back to that when I talk about the curriculum. And last but not least we pay a lot of attention to make sure that the skills you learn here facilitate very good jobs and good employment nationally and internationally.


Today we conducted the Lightning Shock Trooper Assault Course, which is a training event that was the culmination of individual team and crew skills that we tested on lethality and proficiency on basic soldier skill tasks, communication and aggressiveness. The training event was essentially the end result of weeks of training to get a point where we could have the team confident enough to assault and destroy and complete an objective.