Waverley; Or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since — Volume 1

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER V

  CHOICE OF A PROFESSION

  From the minuteness with which I have traced Waverley's pursuits,and the bias which these unavoidably communicated to hisimagination, the reader may perhaps anticipate, in the followingtale, an imitation of the romance of Cervantes. But he will do myprudence injustice in the supposition. My intention is not tofollow the steps of that inimitable author, in describing suchtotal perversion of intellect as misconstrues the objects actuallypresented to the senses, but that more common aberration fromsound judgment, which apprehends occurrences indeed in theirreality, but communicates to them a tincture of its own romantictone and colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expectinggeneral sympathy with his own feelings, or concluding that thepresent state of things was calculated to exhibit the reality ofthose visions in which he loved to indulge, that he dreadednothing more than the detection of such sentiments as weredictated by his musings. He neither had nor wished to have aconfidant, with whom to communicate his reveries; and so sensiblewas he of the ridicule attached to them, that, had he been tochoose between any punishment short of ignominy, and the necessityof giving a cold and composed account of the ideal world in whichhe lived the better part of his days, I think he would not havehesitated to prefer the former infliction. This secrecy becamedoubly precious as he felt in advancing life the influence of theawakening passions. Female forms of exquisite grace and beautybegan to mingle in his mental adventures; nor was he long withoutlooking abroad to compare the creatures of his own imaginationwith the females of actual life.

  The list of the beauties who displayed their hebdomadal finery atthe parish church of Waverley was neither numerous nor select. Byfar the most passable was Miss Sissly, or, as she rather chose tobe called, Miss Cecilia Stubbs, daughter of Squire Stubbs at theGrange. I know not whether it was by the 'merest accident in theworld,' a phrase which, from female lips, does not always excludemalice prepense, or whether it was from a conformity of taste,that Miss Cecilia more than once crossed Edward in his favouritewalks through Waverley-Chase. He had not as yet assumed courage toaccost her on these occasions; but the meeting was not without itseffect. A romantic lover is a strange idolater, who sometimescares not out of what log he frames the object of his adoration;at least, if nature has given that object any passable proportionof personal charms, he can easily play the Jeweller and Dervise inthe Oriental tale, [Footnote: See Hoppner's tale of The SevenLovers.] 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 thesaint her namesake, Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimationwhich determined her to prevent the approaching apotheosis. Eventhe most simple and unsuspicious of the female sex have (God blessthem!) an instinctive sharpness of perception in such matters,which sometimes goes the length of observing partialities thatnever existed, but rarely misses to detect such as pass actuallyunder their observation. Mrs. Rachel applied herself with greatprudence, not to combat, but to elude, the approaching danger, andsuggested to her brother the necessity that the heir of his houseshould see something more of the world than was consistent withconstant 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, headmitted, but youth, he had always heard, was the season forlearning, and, no doubt, when his rage for letters was abated, andhis head fully stocked with knowledge, his nephew would take tofield-sports and country business. He had often, he said, himselfregretted that he had not spent some time in study during hisyouth: he would neither have shot nor hunted with less skill, andhe might have made the roof of Saint Stephen's echo to longerorations than were comprised in those zealous Noes, with which,when a member of the House during Godolphin's administration, heencountered every measure of government.

  Aunt Rachel's anxiety, however, lent her address to carry herpoint. Every representative of their house had visited foreignparts, or served his country in the army, before he settled forlife at Waverley-Honour, and she appealed for the truth of herassertion to the genealogical pedigree, an authority which SirEverard was never known to contradict. In short, a proposal wasmade to Mr. Richard Waverley, that his son should travel, underthe direction of his present tutor Mr. Pembroke, with a suitableallowance from the Baronet's liberality. The father himself saw noobjection to this overture; but upon mentioning it casually at thetable of the minister, the great man looked grave. The reason wasexplained in private. The unhappy turn of Sir Everard's politics,the minister observed, was such as would render it highly improperthat a young gentleman of such hopeful prospects should travel onthe Continent with a tutor doubtless of his uncle's choosing, anddirecting his course by his instructions. What might Mr. EdwardWaverley's society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all manner ofsnares were spread by the Pretender and his sons--these werepoints for Mr. Waverley to consider. This he could himself say,that he knew his Majesty had such a just sense of Mr. RichardWaverley's merits, that, if his son adopted the army for a fewyears, a troop, he believed, might be reckoned upon in one of thedragoon regiments lately returned from Flanders.

  A hint thus conveyed and enforced was not to be neglected withimpunity; and Richard Waverley, though with great dread ofshocking his brother's prejudices, deemed he could not avoidaccepting the commission thus offered him for his son. The truthis, he calculated much, and justly, upon Sir Everard's fondnessfor Edward, which made him unlikely to resent any step that hemight take in due submission to parental authority. Two lettersannounced this determination to the Baronet and his nephew. Thelatter barely communicated the fact, and pointed out the necessarypreparations for joining his regiment. To his brother, Richard wasmore diffuse and circuitous. He coincided with him, in the mostflattering manner, in the propriety of his son's seeing a littlemore of the world, and was even humble in expressions of gratitudefor his proposed assistance; was, however, deeply concerned thatit was now, unfortunately, not in Edward's power exactly to complywith the plan which had been chalked out by his best friend andbenefactor. 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 wasnot now in Flanders, at an age when his grandfather was alreadybleeding for his king in the Great Civil War. This was accompaniedby an offer of a troop of horse. What could he do? There was notime to consult his brother's inclinations, even if he could haveconceived there might be objections on his part to his nephew'sfollowing the glorious career of his predecessors. And, in short,that Edward was now (the intermediate steps of cornet andlieutenant being overleapt with great agility) Captain Waverley,of Gardiner's regiment of dragoons, which he must join in theirquarters 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 hadwithdrawn from parliament, and his conduct in the memorable year1715 had not been altogether unsuspected. There were reports ofprivate musters of tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase bymoonlight, and of cases of carbines and pistols purchased inHolland, and addressed to the Baronet, but intercepted by thevigilance of a riding officer of the excise, who was afterwardstossed in a blanket on a moonless night, by an association ofstout yeomen, for his officiousness. Nay, it was even said, thatat 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 theinsurrection of 1715, felt it neither prudent nor safe to pushtheir vengeance farther than against those unfortunate gentlemenwho actually took up arms.

  Nor did Sir Everard's apprehensions of personal consequences seemto correspond with the reports spread among his Whig neighbours.It was well known that he had supplied with money severa
l of thedistressed Northumbrians and Scotchmen, who, after being madeprisoners at Preston in Lancashire, were imprisoned in Newgate andthe Marshalsea, and it was his solicitor and ordinary counsel whoconducted the defence of some of these unfortunate gentlemen attheir trial. It was generally supposed, however, that, hadministers possessed any real proof of Sir Everard's accession tothe rebellion, he either would not have ventured thus to brave theexisting government, or at least would not have done so withimpunity. The feelings which then dictated his proceedings werethose of a young man, and at an agitating period. Since that timeSir Everard's Jacobitism had been gradually decaying, like a firewhich burns out for want of fuel. His Tory and High-Churchprinciples were kept up by some occasional exercise at electionsand quarter-sessions; but those respecting hereditary right werefallen into a sort of abeyance. Yet it jarred severely upon hisfeelings, that his nephew should go into the army under theBrunswick dynasty; and the more so, as, independent of his highand conscientious ideas of paternal authority, it was impossible,or at least highly imprudent, to interfere authoritatively toprevent it. This suppressed vexation gave rise to many poohs andpshaws which were placed to the account of an incipient fit ofgout, until, having sent for the Army List, the worthy Baronetconsoled himself with reckoning the descendants of the houses ofgenuine 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, withlogic something like Falstaff's, that when war was at hand,although it were shame to be on any side but one, it were worseshame to be idle than to be on the worst side, though blacker thanusurpation could make it. As for Aunt Rachel, her scheme had notexactly terminated according to her wishes, but she was under thenecessity of submitting to circumstances; and her mortificationwas diverted by the employment she found in fitting out her nephewfor the campaign, and greatly consoled by the prospect ofbeholding him blaze in complete uniform. Edward Waverley himselfreceived with animated and undefined surprise this most unexpectedintelligence. It was, as a fine old poem expresses it, 'like afire to heather set,' that covers a solitary hill with smoke, andillumines it at the same time with dusky fire. His tutor, or, Ishould say, Mr. Pembroke, for he scarce assumed the name of tutor,picked up about Edward's room some fragments of irregular verse,which he appeared to have composed under the influence of theagitating feelings occasioned by this sudden page being turned upto him in the book of life. The doctor, who was a believer in allpoetry which was composed by his friends, and written out in fairstraight lines, with a capital at the beginning of each,communicated this treasure to Aunt Rachel, who, with herspectacles dimmed with tears, transferred them to her commonplacebook, among choice receipts for cookery and medicine, favouritetexts, and portions from High-Church divines, and a few songs,amatory and Jacobitical, which she had carolled in her youngerdays, from whence her nephew's poetical tentamina were extractedwhen the volume itself, with other authentic records of theWaverley family, were exposed to the inspection of the unworthyeditor of this memorable history. If they afford the reader nohigher amusement, they will serve, at least, better than narrativeof any kind, to acquaint him with the wild and irregular spirit ofour 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,the transient idea of Miss Cecilia Stubbs passed from CaptainWaverley's heart amid the turmoil which his new destinies excited.She appeared, indeed, in full splendour in her father's pew uponthe Sunday when he attended service for the last time at the oldparish church, upon which occasion, at the request of his uncleand Aunt Rachel, he was induced (nothing both, if the truth mustbe told) to present himself in full uniform.

  There is no better antidote against entertaining too high anopinion of others than having an excellent one of ourselves at thevery same time. Miss Stubbs had indeed summoned up everyassistance which art could afford to beauty; but, alas! hoop,patches, frizzled locks, and a new mantua of genuine French silk,were lost upon a young officer of dragoons who wore for the firsttime his gold-laced hat, jack-boots, and broadsword. I know notwhether, like the champion of an old ballad,--

  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, whichnow fenced his breast, defied the artillery of Cecilia's eyes; butevery arrow 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 casesto resist giving way to), it is a melancholy fact, that my historymust here take leave of the fair Cecilia, who, like many adaughter of Eve, after the departure of Edward, and thedissipation of certain idle visions which she had adopted, quietlycontented herself with a pisaller, and gave her hand, at thedistance of six months, to the aforesaid Jonas, son of theBaronet's steward, and heir (no unfertile prospect) to a steward'sfortune, besides the snug probability of succeeding to hisfather's office. All these advantages moved Squire Stubbs, as muchas the ruddy brown and manly form of the suitor influenced hisdaughter, to abate somewhat in the article of their gentry; and sothe match was concluded. None seemed more gratified than AuntRachel, 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 pairat church, honoured the bride with a smile and a profound curtsy,in presence 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 upnovels merely for amusement, for plaguing them so long with old-fashioned politics, and Whig and Tory, and Hanoverians andJacobites. The truth is, I cannot promise them that this storyshall be intelligible, not to say probable, without it. My planrequires that I should explain the motives on which its actionproceeded; and these motives necessarily arose from the feelings,prejudices, and parties of the times. I do not invite my fairreaders, whose sex and impatience give them the greatest right tocomplain of these circumstances, into a flying chariot drawn byhippogriffs, or moved by enchantment. Mine is a humble Englishpost-chaise, drawn upon four wheels, and keeping his Majesty'shighway. Such as dislike the vehicle may leave it at the nexthalt, and wait for the conveyance of Pr
ince Hussein's tapestry, orMalek the Weaver's flying sentrybox. Those who are contented toremain with me will be occasionally exposed to the dulnessinseparable from heavy roads, steep hills, sloughs, and otherterrestrial retardations; but with tolerable horses and a civildriver (as the advertisements have it), I engage to get as soon aspossible into a more picturesque and romantic country, if mypassengers incline to have some patience with me during my firststages. [Footnote: These Introductory Chapters have been a gooddeal censured as tedious and unnecessary. Yet there arecircumstances recorded in them which the author has not been ableto persuade himself to retrench or cancel.]