ON a certain Sunday evening, toward the middle of the eighteenth
century, a young man stood practising the guards of the broadsword in
the library of an old English manor-house. The young man was Captain
Edward Waverley, recently assigned to the command of a company in
Gardiner's regiment of dragoons, and his uncle was coming in to say a
few words to him before he set out to join the colours.
Being a soldier and a hero, Edward Waverley was naturally tall and
handsome, but, owing to the manner of his education, his uncle, an high
Jacobite of the old school, held that he was "somewhat too bookish" for
a proper man. He must therefore see a little of the world, asserted old
Sir Everard.
His Aunt Rachel had another reason for wishing him to leave
Waverley-Honour. She had actually observed her Edward look too often
across at the Squire's pew in church! Now Aunt Rachel held it no wrong
to look at Squire Stubbs's pew if only that pew had been empty. But it
was (oh, wickedness!) just when it contained the dear old-fashioned
sprigged gown and the fresh pretty face of Miss Cecilia Stubbs, that
Aunt Rachel's nephew looked most often in that direction. In addition to
which the old lady was sure she had observed "that little Celie Stubbs"
glance over at her handsome Edward in a way that--well, when _she_ was
young! And here the old lady bridled and tossed her head, and the words
which her lips formed themselves to utter (though she was too ladylike
to speak them) were obviously "The Minx!" Hence it was clear to the most
simple and unprejudiced that a greater distance had better be put
between the Waverley loft and the Squire's pew--and that as soon as
possible.
Edward's uncle, Sir Everard, had wished him to travel abroad in company
with his tutor, a staunch Jacobite clergyman by the name of Mr.
Pembroke. But to this Edward's father, who was a member of the
government, unexpectedly refused his sanction. Now Sir Everard despised
his younger brother as a turncoat (and indeed something little better
than a spy), but he could not gainsay a father's authority, even though
he himself had brought the boy up to be his heir.
"I am willing that you should be a soldier," he said to Edward; "your
ancestors have always been of that profession. Be brave like them, but
not rash. Remember you are the last of the Waverleys and the hope of
the house. Keep no company with gamblers, with rakes, or with Whigs. Do
your duty to God, to the Church of England, and--" He was going to say
"to the King," when he remembered that by his father's wish Edward was
going to fight the battles of King George. So the old Jacobite finished
off rather lamely by repeating, "to the Church of England and all
constituted authorities!"
Then the old man, not trusting himself to say more, broke off abruptly
and went down to the stables to choose the horses which were to carry
Edward to the north. Finally, he delivered into the hands of his nephew
an important letter addressed as follows:--
"To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esquire of Bradwardine, at his principal
mansion of Tully-Veolan in Perthshire, North Britain,--_These._--"
For that was the dignified way in which men of rank directed their
letters in those days.
The leave-taking of Mr. Pembroke, Edward's tutor, was even longer and
more solemn. And had Edward attended in the least to his moralisings, he
might have felt somewhat depressed. In conclusion, the good clergyman
presented him with several pounds of foolscap, closely written over in
a neat hand.
"These," he said, handling the sheets reverently, "are purposely written
small that they may be convenient to keep by you in your saddle-bags.
They are my works--my unpublished works. They will teach you the real
fundamental principles of the Church, principles concerning which, while
you have been my pupil, I have been under obligation never to speak to
you. But now as you read them, I doubt not but that the light will come
upon you! At all events, I have cleared my conscience."
Edward, in the quiet of his chamber, glanced at the heading of the
first: _A Dissent from Dissenters or the Comprehension Confuted_. He
felt the weight and thickness of the manuscript, and promptly confuted
their author by consigning the package to that particular corner of his
travelling trunk where he was least likely to come across it again.
On the other hand, his Aunt Rachel warned him with many head-shakings
against the forwardness of the ladies whom he would meet with in
Scotland (where she had never been). Then, more practically, she put
into his hand a purse of broad gold pieces, and set on his finger a
noble diamond ring.
As for Miss Celie Stubbs, she came to the Waverley church on the last
day before his departure, arrayed in all her best and newest clothes,
mighty fine with hoops, patches, and silks everywhere. But Master
Edward, who had his uniform on for the first time, his gold-laced hat
beside him on the cushion, his broadsword by his side, and his spurs on
his heels, hardly once looked at the Squire's pew. At which neglect
little Celie pouted somewhat at the time, but since within six months
she was married to Jones, the steward's son at Waverley-Honour, with
whom she lived happy ever after, we may take it that her heart could not
have been very deeply touched by Edward's inconstancy.
* * * * *
[As a suitable first taste of the original I now read to my audience
from a pocket _Waverley_, Chapter the Sixth, "The Adieus of Waverley."
It was listened to on the whole with more interest than I had hoped for.
It was an encouraging beginning. But Sir Toady, always irrepressible,
called out a little impatiently: "That's enough about him. Now tell us
what he _did!_" And this is how I endeavoured to obey.]