Waverley; Or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since

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 as misconstruesthe objects actually presented to the senses, but that more commonaberration from sound judgement, which apprehends occurrences indeed intheir reality, but communicates to them a tincture of its own romantictone and colouring. So far was Edward Waverley from expecting generalsympathy with his own feelings, or concluding that the present state ofthings was calculated to exhibit the reality of those visions in whichhe loved to indulge, that he dreaded nothing more than the detectionof such sentiments as were dictated by his musings, he neither had norwished to have a confidant, with whom to communicate his reveries; andso sensible was he of the ridicule attached to them, that, had he beento choose between any punishment short of ignominy, and the necessity ofgiving a cold and composed account of the ideal world in which he livedthe better part of his days, I think he would not have hesitated toprefer the former infliction. This secrecy became doubly precious, as hefelt in advancing life the influence of the awakening passions. Femaleforms of exquisite grace and beauty began to mingle in his mentaladventures; nor was he long without looking abroad to compare thecreatures of his own imagination 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 know notwhether it was by the 'merest accident in the world,' a phrase which,from female lips, does not always exclude MALICE PREPENSE, or whether itwas from a conformity of taste, that Miss Cecilia more than once crossedEdward in his favourite walks through Waverley-Chase. He had not as yetassumed courage to accost her on these occasions; but the meeting wasnot without its effect. A romantic lover is a strange idolater,who sometimes cares not out of what log he frames the object of hisadoration; at least, if nature has given that object any passableproportion of personal charms, he can easily play the jeweller andDervise in the Oriental tale, [See Hoppner's tale of The Seven Lovers.]and supply her richly, out of the stores of his own imagination, withsupernatural beauty, and all the properties of intellectual 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 saint hernamesake, Mrs. Rachel Waverley gained some intimation which determinedher to prevent the approaching apotheosis. Even the most simple andunsuspicious of the female sex have (God bless them!) an instinctivesharpness of perception in such matters, which sometimes goes the lengthof observing partialities that never existed, but rarely misses todetect such as pass actually under their observation. Mrs. Rachelapplied herself with great prudence, not to combat, but to elude, theapproaching danger, and suggested to her brother the necessity thatthe heir of his house should see something more of the world than wasconsistent 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 not spentsome time in study during his youth: he would neither have shot norhunted with less skill, and he might have made the roof of St. Stephen'secho to longer orations than were comprised in those zealous Noes, withwhich, 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 her point.Every representative of their house had visited foreign parts, or servedhis country in the army, before he settled for life at Waverley-Honour,and she appealed for the truth of her assertion to the genealogicalpedigree, an authority which Sir Everard was never known to contradict.In short, a proposal was made to Mr. Richard Waverley that his sonshould travel, under the direction of his present tutor, Mr. Pembroke,with a suitable allowance from the baronet's liberality. The fatherhimself saw no objection to this overture; but upon mentioning itcasually at the table of the Minister, the great man looked grave.The reason was explained in private. The unhappy turn of Sir Everard'spolitics, the Minister observed, was such as would render it highlyimproper that a young gentleman of such hopeful prospects should travelon the Continent with a tutor doubtless of his uncle's choosing,and directing his course by his instructions. What might Mr. EdwardWaverley's society be at Paris, what at Rome, where all manner of snareswere spread by the Pretender and his sons--these were points for Mr.Waverley to consider. This he could himself say, that he knew hisMajesty had such a just sense of Mr. Richard Waverley's merits, that ifhis son adopted the army for a few years, a troop, he believed, mightbe reckoned upon in one of the dragoon regiments lately returned fromFlanders.

  A hint thus conveyed and enforced was not to be neglected with impunity;and Richard Waverley, though with great dread of shocking his brother'sprejudices, deemed he could not avoid accepting the commission thusoffered him for his son. The truth is, he calculated much, and justly,upon Sir Everard's fondness for Edward, which made him unlikely toresent any step that he might take in due submission to parentalauthority. Two letters announced this determination to the Baronet andhis nephew. The latter barely communicated the fact, and pointed out thenecessary preparation for joining his regiment. To his brother, Richardwas more diffuse and circuitous. He coincided with him in the mostflattering manner, in the propriety of his son's seeing a little moreof the world, and was even humble in expressions of gratitude for hisproposed assistance; was, however, deeply concerned that it was now,unfortunately, not in Edward's power exactly to comply with the planwhich had been chalked out by his best friend and benefactor. He himselfhad thought with pain on the boy's inactivity, at an age when all hisancestors had borne arms; even Royalty itself had deigned to inquirewhether young Waverley was not now in Flanders, at an age when hisgrandfather was already bleeding for his king in the Great Civil War.This was accompanied by an offer of a troop of horse. What could hedo? There was no time to consult his brother's inclinations, even if hecould have conceived there might be objections on his part to hisnephew's following the glorious career of his predecessors. And, inshort, that Edward was now (the intermediate steps of cornet andlieutenant being overleapt with great agility) Captain Waverley, ofGardiner's regiment of dragoons, which he must join in their quartersat 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 mustersof tenants and horses in Waverley-Chase by moonlight, and of cases ofcarbines and pistols purchased in Holland, and addressed to the Baronet,but intercepted by the vigilance of a riding officer of the excise,who was afterwards tossed in a blanket on a moonless night, by anassociation of stout yeomen, for his officiousness. Nay, it was evensaid, that at the arrest of Sir William Wyndham, the leader of theTory party, 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 vengeancefurther 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 money severa
l of the distressedNorthumbrians and Scotchmen, who, after being made prisoners at Prestonin Lancashire, were imprisoned in Newgate and the Marshalsea; and it washis solicitor and ordinary counsel who conducted the defence of some ofthese unfortunate gentlemen at their trial. It was generally supposed,however, that, had ministers possessed any real proof of Sir Everard'saccession to the rebellion, he either would not have ventured thus tobrave the existing 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 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 moreso, as, independent of his high and conscientious ideas of paternalauthority, it was impossible, or at least highly imprudent, to interfereauthoritatively to prevent it. This suppressed vexation gave rise tomany poohs and pshaws, which were placed to the account of an incipientfit of gout, until, having sent for the Army List, the worthy Baronetconsoled himself with reckoning the descendants of the houses of genuineloyalty, Mordaunts, Granvilles, and Stanleys, whose names were to befound in that military record; and, calling up all his feelings offamily grandeur and warlike glory, he concluded, with logic somethinglike Falstaff's, that when war was at hand, although it were shame tobe on any side but one, it were worse shame to be idle than to be on theworst side, though blacker than usurpation could make it. As for AuntRachel, her scheme had not exactly terminated according to her wishes,but she was under the necessity of submitting to circumstances; and hermortification was diverted by the employment she found in fitting outher nephew for the campaign, and greatly consoled by the prospect ofbeholding him blaze in complete uniform.

  Edward Waverley himself received with animated and undefined surprisethis most unexpected intelligence. It was, as a fine old poem expressesit, 'like a fire to heather set,' that covers a solitary hill withsmoke, and illumines it at the same time with dusky fire. His tutor,or, I should say, Mr. Pembroke, for he scarce assumed the name of tutor,picked up about Edward's room some fragments of irregular verse, whichhe appeared to have composed under the influence of the agitatingfeelings occasioned by this sudden page being turned up to him in thebook of life. The doctor, who was a believer in all poetry which wascomposed by his friends, and written out in fair straight lines, witha capital at the beginning of each, communicated this treasure to AuntRachel, who, with her spectacles dimmed with tears, transferred them toher commonplace book, among choice receipts for cookery and medicine,favourite texts, and portions from High Church divines, and a few songs,amatory and jacobitical, which she had carolled in her younger days,from whence her nephew's poetical TENTAMINA were extracted, when thevolume 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 will serve,at least, better than narrative of any kind, to acquaint him with thewild and irregular spirit of our hero:--

  Late when the Autumn evening fell On Mirkwood-Mere's romantic dell, The lake returned, in chastened gleam, The purple cloud, the golden beam: Reflected in the crystal pool, Headand 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 donned at once his sable cloak, As warrior, at the battle-cry, Invests him with his panoply: Then as the whirlwind nearer pressed, He 'gan to shake his foamy crest O'er furrowed brow and blackened cheek, And bade his surge in thunder speak. In wild and broken eddies whirled, 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 warred the wind with wave and wood. Upon the ruined tower I stood, And felt my heart more strongly bound, Responsive to the lofty sound, While, joying in the mighty roar, I mourned 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 loth, 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 anew mantua 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 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, 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 aPIS-ALLER, 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 brow 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 gratifiedthan Aunt 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 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 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, notto say 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 waitfor the conveyance of Prince Hussein's tapestry, or Malek the Weaver'sflying sentry-box. Those who are contented to remain with me will beoccasionally exposed to the dullness 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. [These Introductory Chapters have been a good deal censured astedious and unnecessary. Yet there are circumstances recorded in themwhich the author has not been able to persuade himself to retract orcancel.]