Waverley; Or 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Complete

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER V

  CHOICE OF A PROFESSION

  From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverley's pursuits, andthe bias which these unavoidably communicated to his imagination, thereader may perhaps anticipate, in the following tale, an imitation ofthe romance of Cervantes. But he will do my prudence injustice in thesupposition. My intention is not to follow the steps of that inimitableauthor, in describing such total perversion of intellect asmisconstrues the objects actually presented to the senses, but thatmore common aberration from sound judgment, which apprehendsoccurrences indeed in their reality, but communicates to them atincture of its own romantic tone and colouring. So far was EdwardWaverley from expecting general sympathy with his own feelings, orconcluding that the present state of things was calculated to exhibitthe reality of those visions in which he loved to indulge, that hedreaded nothing more than the detection of such sentiments as weredictated by his musings. He neither had nor wished to have a confidant,with whom to communicate his reveries; and so sensible was he of theridicule attached to them, that, had he been to choose between anypunishment short of ignominy, and the necessity of giving a cold andcomposed account of the ideal world in which he lived the better partof his days, I think he would not have hesitated to prefer the formerinfliction. This secrecy became doubly precious as he felt in advancinglife the influence of the awakening passions. Female forms of exquisitegrace and beauty began to mingle in his mental adventures; nor was helong without looking abroad to compare the creatures of his ownimagination with the females of actual life.

  The list of the beauties who displayed their hebdomadal finery at theparish church of Waverley was neither numerous nor select. By far themost passable was Miss Sissly, or, as she rather chose to be called,Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter of Squire Stubbs at the Grange. I knownot whether it was by the 'merest accident in the world,' a phrasewhich, from female lips, does not always exclude malice prepense, orwhether it was from a conformity of taste, that Miss Cecilia more thanonce crossed Edward in his favourite walks through Waverley-Chase. Hehad not as yet assumed courage to accost her on these occasions; butthe meeting was not without its effect. A romantic lover is a strangeidolater, who sometimes cares not out of what log he frames the objectof his adoration; at least, if nature has given that object anypassable proportion of personal charms, he can easily play the Jewellerand Dervise in the Oriental tale, [Footnote: See Hoppner's tale of TheSeven Lovers.] and supply her richly, out of the stores of his ownimagination, with supernatural beauty, and all the properties ofintellectual wealth.

  But ere the charms of Miss Cecilia Stubbs had erected her into apositive goddess, or elevated her at least to a level with the sainther namesake, Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimation whichdetermined her to prevent the approaching apotheosis. Even the mostsimple and unsuspicious of the female sex have (God bless them!) aninstinctive sharpness of perception in such matters, which sometimesgoes the length of observing partialities that never existed, butrarely misses to detect such as pass actually under their observation.Mrs. Rachel applied herself with great prudence, not to combat, but toelude, the approaching danger, and suggested to her brother thenecessity that the heir of his house should see something more of theworld than was consistent with constant residence at Waverley-Honour.

  Sir Everard would not at first listen to a proposal which went toseparate his nephew from him. Edward was a little bookish, he admitted,but youth, he had always heard, was the season for learning, and, nodoubt, when his rage for letters was abated, and his head fully stockedwith knowledge, his nephew would take to field-sports and countrybusiness. He had often, he said, himself regretted that he had notspent some time in study during his youth: he would neither have shotnor hunted with less skill, and he might have made the roof of SaintStephen's echo to longer orations than were comprised in those zealousNoes, with which, when a member of the House during Godolphin'sadministration, he encountered every measure of government.

  Aunt Rachel's anxiety, however, lent her address to carry her point.Every representative of their house had visited foreign parts, orserved his country in the army, before he settled for life atWaverley-Honour, and she appealed for the truth of her assertion to thegenealogical pedigree, an authority which Sir Everard was never knownto contradict. In short, a proposal was made to Mr. Richard Waverley,that his son should travel, under the direction of his present tutorMr. Pembroke, with a suitable allowance from the Baronet's liberality.The father himself saw no objection to this overture; but uponmentioning it casually at the table of the minister, the great manlooked grave. The reason was explained in private. The unhappy turn ofSir Everard's politics, the minister observed, was such as would renderit highly improper that a young gentleman of such hopeful prospectsshould travel on the Continent with a tutor doubtless of his uncle'schoosing, and directing his course by his instructions. What might Mr.Edward Waverley's society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all mannerof snares were spread by the Pretender and his sons--these were pointsfor Mr. Waverley to consider. This he could himself say, that he knewhis Majesty had such a just sense of Mr. Richard Waverley's merits,that, if his son adopted the army for a few years, a troop, hebelieved, might be reckoned upon in one of the dragoon regiments latelyreturned from Flanders.

  A hint thus conveyed and enforced was not to be neglected withimpunity; and Richard Waverley, though with great dread of shocking hisbrother's prejudices, deemed he could not avoid accepting thecommission thus offered him for his son. The truth is, he calculatedmuch, and justly, upon Sir Everard's fondness for Edward, which madehim unlikely to resent any step that he might take in due submission toparental authority. Two letters announced this determination to theBaronet and his nephew. The latter barely communicated the fact, andpointed out the necessary preparations for joining his regiment. To hisbrother, Richard was more diffuse and circuitous. He coincided withhim, in the most flattering manner, in the propriety of his son'sseeing a little more of the world, and was even humble in expressionsof gratitude for his proposed assistance; was, however, deeplyconcerned that it was now, unfortunately, not in Edward's power exactlyto comply with the plan which had been chalked out by his best friendand benefactor. He himself had thought with pain on the boy'sinactivity, at an age when all his ancestors had borne arms; evenRoyalty itself had deigned to inquire whether young Waverley was notnow in Flanders, at an age when his grandfather was already bleedingfor his king in the Great Civil War. This was accompanied by an offerof a troop of horse. What could he do? There was no time to consult hisbrother's inclinations, even if he could have conceived there might beobjections on his part to his nephew's following the glorious career ofhis predecessors. And, in short, that Edward was now (the intermediatesteps of cornet and lieutenant being overleapt with great agility)Captain Waverley, of Gardiner's regiment of dragoons, which he mustjoin in their quarters at Dundee in Scotland, in the course of a month.

  Sir Everard Waverley received this intimation with a mixture offeelings. At the period of the Hanoverian succession he had withdrawnfrom parliament, and his conduct in the memorable year 1715 had notbeen altogether unsuspected. There were reports of private musters oftenants and horses in Waverley-Chase by moonlight, and of cases ofcarbines and pistols purchased in Holland, and addressed to theBaronet, but intercepted by the vigilance of a riding officer of theexcise, who was afterwards tossed in a blanket on a moonless night, byan association of stout yeomen, for his officiousness. Nay, it was evensaid, that at the arrest of Sir William Wyndham, the leader of the Toryparty, a letter from Sir Everard was found in the pocket of hisnight-gown. But there was no overt act which an attainder could befounded on, and government, contented with suppressing the insurrectionof 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to push their vengeancefarther than against those unfortunate gentlemen who actually took uparms.

  Nor did Sir Everard's apprehensions of personal consequences seem tocorrespond with the reports spread among his Whig neighbours. It waswell known that he had supplied with mon
ey several of the distressedNorthumbrians and Scotchmen, who, after being made prisoners at Prestonin Lancashire, were imprisoned in Newgate and the Marshalsea, and itwas his solicitor and ordinary counsel who conducted the defence ofsome of these unfortunate gentlemen at their trial. It was generallysupposed, however, that, had ministers possessed any real proof of SirEverard's accession to the rebellion, he either would not have venturedthus to brave the existing government, or at least would not have doneso with impunity. The feelings which then dictated his proceedings werethose of a young man, and at an agitating period. Since that time SirEverard's Jacobitism had been gradually decaying, like a fire whichburns out for want of fuel. His Tory and High-Church principles werekept up by some occasional exercise at elections and quarter-sessions;but those respecting hereditary right were fallen into a sort ofabeyance. Yet it jarred severely upon his feelings, that his nephewshould go into the army under the Brunswick dynasty; and the more so,as, independent of his high and conscientious ideas of paternalauthority, it was impossible, or at least highly imprudent, tointerfere authoritatively to prevent it. This suppressed vexation gaverise to many poohs and pshaws which were placed to the account of anincipient fit of gout, until, having sent for the Army List, the worthyBaronet consoled himself with reckoning the descendants of the housesof genuine loyalty, Mordaunts, Granvilles, and Stanleys, whose nameswere to be found in that military record; and, calling up all hisfeelings of family grandeur and warlike glory, he concluded, with logicsomething like Falstaff's, that when war was at hand, although it wereshame to be on any side but one, it were worse shame to be idle than tobe on the worst side, though blacker than usurpation could make it. Asfor Aunt Rachel, her scheme had not exactly terminated according to herwishes, but she was under the necessity of submitting to circumstances;and her mortification was diverted by the employment she found infitting out her nephew for the campaign, and greatly consoled by theprospect of beholding him blaze in complete uniform. Edward Waverleyhimself received with animated and undefined surprise this mostunexpected intelligence. It was, as a fine old poem expresses it, 'likea fire to heather set,' that covers a solitary hill with smoke, andillumines it at the same time with dusky fire. His tutor, or, I shouldsay, Mr. Pembroke, for he scarce assumed the name of tutor, picked upabout Edward's room some fragments of irregular verse, which heappeared to have composed under the influence of the agitating feelingsoccasioned by this sudden page being turned up to him in the book oflife. The doctor, who was a believer in all poetry which was composedby his friends, and written out in fair straight lines, with a capitalat the beginning of each, communicated this treasure to Aunt Rachel,who, with her spectacles dimmed with tears, transferred them to hercommonplace book, among choice receipts for cookery and medicine,favourite texts, and portions from High-Church divines, and a fewsongs, amatory and Jacobitical, which she had carolled in her youngerdays, from whence her nephew's poetical tentamina were extracted whenthe volume itself, with other authentic records of the Waverley family,were exposed to the inspection of the unworthy editor of this memorablehistory. If they afford the reader no higher amusement, they willserve, at least, better than narrative of any kind, to acquaint himwith the wild and irregular spirit of our hero:--

  Late, when the Autumn evening fell On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell, The lake return'd, in chasten'd gleam, The purple cloud, the golden beam: Reflected in the crystal pool, Headland and bank lay fair and cool; The weather-tinted rock and tower, Each drooping tree, each fairy flower, So true, so soft, the mirror gave, As if there lay beneath the wave, Secure from trouble, toil, and care, A world than earthly world more fair.

  But distant winds began to wake, And roused the Genius of the Lake! He heard the groaning of the oak, And donn'd at once his sable cloak, As warrior, at the battle-cry, Invests him with his panoply: Then, as the whirlwind nearer press'd He 'gan to shake his foamy crest O'er furrow'd brow and blacken'd cheek, And bade his surge in thunder speak. In wild and broken eddies whirl'd. Flitted that fond ideal world, And to the shore in tumult tost The realms of fairy bliss were lost.

  Yet, with a stern delight and strange, I saw the spirit-stirring change, As warr'd the wind with wave and wood, Upon the ruin'd tower I stood, And felt my heart more strongly bound, Responsive to the lofty sound, While, joying in the mighty roar, I mourn'd that tranquil scene no more.

  So, on the idle dreams of youth, Breaks the loud trumpet-call of truth, Bids each fair vision pass away, Like landscape on the lake that lay, As fair, as flitting, and as frail, As that which fled the Autumn gale.-- For ever dead to fancy's eye Be each gay form that glided by, While dreams of love and lady's charms Give place to honour and to arms!

  In sober prose, as perhaps these verses intimate less decidedly, thetransient idea of Miss Cecilia Stubbs passed from Captain Waverley'sheart amid the turmoil which his new destinies excited. She appeared,indeed, in full splendour in her father's pew upon the Sunday when heattended service for the last time at the old parish church, upon whichoccasion, at the request of his uncle and Aunt Rachel, he was induced(nothing both, if the truth must be told) to present himself in fulluniform.

  There is no better antidote against entertaining too high an opinion ofothers than having an excellent one of ourselves at the very same time.Miss Stubbs had indeed summoned up every assistance which art couldafford to beauty; but, alas! hoop, patches, frizzled locks, and a newmantua of genuine French silk, were lost upon a young officer ofdragoons who wore for the first time his gold-laced hat, jack-boots,and broadsword. I know not whether, like the champion of an oldballad,--

  His heart was all on honour bent, He could not stoop to love; No lady in the land had power His frozen heart to move;

  or whether the deep and flaming bars of embroidered gold, which nowfenced his breast, defied the artillery of Cecilia's eyes; but everyarrow was launched at him in vain.

  Yet did I mark where Cupid's shaft did light; It lighted not on little western flower, But on bold yeoman, flower of all the west, Hight Jonas Culbertfield, the steward's son.

  Craving pardon for my heroics (which I am unable in certain cases toresist giving way to), it is a melancholy fact, that my history musthere take leave of the fair Cecilia, who, like many a daughter of Eve,after the departure of Edward, and the dissipation of certain idlevisions which she had adopted, quietly contented herself with apisaller, and gave her hand, at the distance of six months, to theaforesaid Jonas, son of the Baronet's steward, and heir (no unfertileprospect) to a steward's fortune, besides the snug probability ofsucceeding to his father's office. All these advantages moved SquireStubbs, as much as the ruddy brown and manly form of the suitorinfluenced his daughter, to abate somewhat in the article of theirgentry; and so the match was concluded. None seemed more gratified thanAunt Rachel, who had hitherto looked rather askance upon thepresumptuous damsel (as much so, peradventure, as her nature wouldpermit), but who, on the first appearance of the new-married pair atchurch, honoured the bride with a smile and a profound curtsy, inpresence of the rector, the curate, the clerk, and the wholecongregation of the united parishes of Waverley cum Beverley.

  I beg pardon, once and for all, of those readers who take up novelsmerely for amusement, for plaguing them so long with old-fashionedpolitics, and Whig and Tory, and Hanoverians and Jacobites. The truthis, I cannot promise them that this story shall be intelligible, not tosay probable, without it. My plan requires that I should explain themotives on which its action proceeded; and these motives necessarilyarose from the feelings, prejudices, and parties of the times. I do notinvite my fair readers, whose sex and impatience give them the greatestright to complain of these circumstances, into a flying chariot drawnby hippogriffs, or moved by enchantment. Mine is a humble Englishpost-chaise, drawn upon four wheels, and keeping his Majesty's highway.Such as dislike the vehicle may leave it at the next halt, and wait forthe c
onveyance of Prince Hussein's tapestry, or Malek the Weaver'sflying sentrybox. Those who are contented to remain with me will beoccasionally exposed to the dulness inseparable from heavy roads, steephills, sloughs, and other terrestrial retardations; but with tolerablehorses and a civil driver (as the advertisements have it), I engage toget as soon as possible into a more picturesque and romantic country,if my passengers incline to have some patience with me during my firststages. [Footnote: These Introductory Chapters have been a good dealcensured as tedious and unnecessary. Yet there are circumstancesrecorded in them which the author has not been able to persuade himselfto retrench or cancel.]