EDUCATION
The education of our hero, Edward Waverley, was of a nature somewhat
desultory. In infancy, his health suffered, or was supposed to suffer
(which is quite the same thing), by the air of London. As soon,
therefore, as official duties, attendance on Parliament, or the
prosecution of any of his plans of interest or ambition, called his
father to town, which was his usual residence for eight months in the
year, Edward was transferred to Waverley-Honour, and experienced a total
change of instructors and of lessons, as well as of residence.
This might have been remedied, had his father placed him under the
superintendence of a permanent tutor. But he considered that one of his
choosing would probably have been unacceptable at Waverley-Honour, and
that such a selection as Sir Everard might have made, were the matter
left to him, would have burdened him with a disagreeable inmate, if not
a political spy, in his family. He therefore prevailed upon his private
secretary, a young man of taste and accomplishments, to bestow an hour
or two on Edward's education while at Brere-wood Lodge, and left his
uncle answerable for his improvement in literature while an inmate at
the Hall.
This was in some degree respectably provided for. Sir Everard's
chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his fellowship for declining to
take the oaths at the accession of George I, was not only an excellent
classical scholar, but reasonably skilled in science, and master of most
modern languages. He was, however, old and indulgent, and the recurring
interregnum, during which Edward was entirely freed from his discipline,
occasioned such a relaxation of authority, that the youth was permitted,
in a great measure, to learn as he pleased, what he pleased, and when he
pleased. This slackness of rule might have been ruinous to a boy of
slow understanding, who, feeling labour in the acquisition of
knowledge, would have altogether neglected it, save for the command of a
task-master; and it might have proved equally dangerous to a youth whose
animal spirits were more powerful than his imagination or his feelings,
and whom the irresistible influence of Alma would have engaged in field
sports from morning till night. But the character of Edward Waverley
was remote from either of these. His powers of apprehension were so
uncommonly quick, as almost to resemble intuition, and the chief care of
his preceptor was to prevent him, as a sportsman would phrase it, from
overrunning his game, that is, from acquiring his knowledge in a slight,
flimsy, and inadequate manner. And here the instructor had to combat
another propensity too often united with brilliancy of fancy and
vivacity of talent,--that indolence, namely, of disposition, which
can only be stirred by some strong motive of gratification, and which
renounces study as soon as curiosity is gratified, the pleasure of
conquering the first difficulties exhausted, and the novelty of pursuit
at an end. Edward would throw himself with spirit upon any classical
author of which his preceptor proposed the perusal, make himself master
of the style so far as to understand the story, and if that pleased or
interested him, he finished the volume. But it was in vain to attempt
fixing his attention on critical distinctions of philology, upon
the difference of idiom, the beauty of felicitous expression, or the
artificial combinations of syntax. 'I can read and understand a Latin
author,' said young Edward, with the self-confidence and rash reasoning
of fifteen, 'and Scaliger or Bentley could not do much more.' Alas!
while he was thus permitted to read only for the gratification of his
amusement, he foresaw not that he was losing for ever the opportunity of
acquiring habits of firm and assiduous application, of gaining the art
of controlling, directing, and concentrating the powers of his mind
for earnest investigation,--an art far more essential than even that
intimate acquaintance with classical learning, which is the primary
object of study.
I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity of rendering
instruction agreeable to youth, and of Tasso's infusion of honey into
the medicine prepared for a child; but an age in which children are
taught the driest doctrines by the insinuating method of instructive
games, has little reason to dread the consequences of study being
rendered too serious or severe. The history of England is now reduced
to a game at cards,--the problems of mathematics to puzzles and
riddles,--and the doctrines of arithmetic may, we are assured, be
sufficiently acquired, by spending a few hours a week at a new and
complicated edition of the Royal Game of the Goose. There wants but one
step further, and the Creed and Ten Commandments may be taught in the
same manner, without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate tone of
recital, and devout attention, hitherto exacted from the well governed
childhood of this realm. It may, in the meantime, be subject of
serious consideration, whether those who are accustomed only to acquire
instruction through the medium of amusement, may not be brought to
reject that which approaches under the aspect of study; whether those
who learn history by the cards, may not be led to prefer the means to
the end; and whether, were we to teach religion in the way of sport,
our pupils may not thereby be gradually induced to make sport of their
religion. To our young hero, who was permitted to seek his instruction
only according to the bent of his own mind, and who, of consequence,
only sought it so long as it afforded him amusement, the indulgence of
his tutors was attended with evil consequences, which long continued
to influence his character, happiness, and utility. Edward's power of
imagination and love of literature, although the former was vivid, and
the latter ardent, were so far from affording a remedy to this peculiar
evil, that they rather inflamed and increased its violence. The library
at Waverley-Honour, a large Gothic room, with double arches and a
gallery, contained such a miscellaneous and extensive collection of
volumes as had been assembled together, during the course of two hundred
years, by a family which had been always wealthy, and inclined, of
course, as a mark of splendour, to furnish their shelves with the
current literature of the day, without much scrutiny, or nicety of
discrimination. Throughout this ample realm Edward was permitted to
roam at large. His tutor had his own studies; and church politics and
controversial divinity, together with a love of learned ease, though
they did not withdraw his attention at stated times from the progress
of his patron's presumptive heir, induced him readily to grasp at any
apology for not extending a strict and regulated survey towards his
general studies. Sir Everard had never been himself a student, and,
like his sister Miss Rachel Waverley, he held the common doctrine, that
idleness is incompatible with reading of any kind, and that the mere
tracing the alphabetical characters with the eye is in itself a useful
and meritorious task, without scrupulously considering what ideas
or doctrines they may happen to convey. With a desire of amusement,
therefore, which better discipline might soon have converted into a
thirst for knowledge, young Waverley drove through the sea of books,
like a vessel without a pilot or a rudder. Nothing perhaps increases by
indulgence more than a desultory habit of reading, especially under such
opportunities of gratifying it. I believe one reason why such numerous
instances of erudition occur among the lower ranks is, that, with the
same powers of mind, the poor student is limited to a narrow circle
for indulging his passion for books, and must necessarily make himself
master of the few he possesses ere he can acquire more. Edward, on the
contrary, like the epicure who only deigned to take a single morsel from
the sunny side of a peach, read no volume a moment after it ceased to
excite his curiosity or interest; and it necessarily happened, that the
habit of seeking only this sort of gratification rendered it daily more
difficult of attainment, till the passion for reading, like other strong
appetites, produced by indulgence a sort of satiety.
Ere he attained this indifference, however, he had read, and stored in
a memory of uncommon tenacity, much curious, though ill-arranged and
miscellaneous information. In English literature he was master of
Shakespeare and Milton, of our earlier dramatic authors; of many
picturesque and interesting passages from our old historical chronicles;
and was particularly well acquainted with Spenser, Drayton, and other
poets who have exercised themselves on romantic fiction, of all themes
the most fascinating to a youthful imagination, before the passions have
roused themselves, and demand poetry of a more sentimental description.
In this respect his acquaintance with Italian opened him yet a wider
range. He had perused the numerous romantic poems, which, from the days
of Pulci, have been a favourite exercise of the wits of Italy; and had
sought gratification in the numerous collections of NOVELLE, which were
brought forth by the genius of that elegant though luxurious nation, in
emulation of the DECAMERON. In classical literature, Waverley had made
the usual progress, and read the usual authors; and the French had
afforded him an almost exhaustless collection of memoirs, scarcely more
faithful than romances, and of romances so well written as hardly to be
distinguished from memoirs. The splendid pages of Froissart, with his
heart-stirring and eye-dazzling descriptions of war and of tournaments,
were among his chief favourites; and from those of Brantome and de
la Noue he learned to compare the wild and loose yet superstitious
character of the nobles of the League, with the stern, rigid, and
sometimes turbulent disposition of the Huguenot party. The Spanish had
contributed to his stock of chivalrous and romantic lore. The earlier
literature of the northern nations did not escape the study of one who
read rather to awaken the imagination than to benefit the understanding.
And yet, knowing much that is known but to few, Edward Waverley might
justly be considered as ignorant, since he knew little of what adds
dignify to man, and qualifies him to support and adorn an elevated
situation in society.
The occasional attention of his parents might indeed have been of
service, to prevent the dissipation of mind incidental to such a
desultory course of reading. But his mother died in the seventh year
after the reconciliation between the brothers, and Richard Waverley
himself, who, after this event, resided more constantly in London, was
too much interested in his own plans of wealth and ambition, to notice
more respecting Edward, than that he was of a very bookish turn, and
probably destined to be a bishop. If he could have discovered and
analysed his son's waking dreams, he would have formed a very different
conclusion.