INTRIGUES OF SOCIETY AND LOVE
Colonel Talbot became more kindly in his demeanour towards
Waverley after the confidence he had reposed in him, and, as they
were necessarily much together, the character of the Colonel rose
in Waverley's estimation. There seemed at first something harsh in
his strong expressions of dislike and censure, although no one was
in the general case more open to conviction. The habit of
authority had also given his manners some peremptory hardness,
notwithstanding the polish which they had received from his
intimate acquaintance with the higher circles. As a specimen of
the military character, he differed from all whom Waverley had as
yet seen. The soldiership of the Baron of Bradwardine was marked
by pedantry; that of Major Melville by a sort of martinet
attention to the minutiae and technicalities of discipline, rather
suitable to one who was to manoeuvre a battalion than to him who
was to command an army; the military spirit of Fergus was so much
warped and blended with his plans and political views, that it was
less that of a soldier than of a petty sovereign. But Colonel
Talbot was in every point the English soldier. His whole soul was
devoted to the service of his king and country, without feeling
any pride in knowing the theory of his art with the Baron, or its
practical minutiae with the Major, or in applying his science to
his own particular plans of ambition, like the Chieftain of
Glennaquoich. Added to this, he was a man of extended knowledge
and cultivated taste, although strongly tinged, as we have already
observed, with those prejudices which are peculiarly English.
The character of Colonel Talbot dawned upon Edward by degrees; for
the delay of the Highlanders in the fruitless siege of Edinburgh
Castle occupied several weeks, during which Waverley had little to
do excepting to seek such amusement as society afforded. He would
willingly have persuaded his new friend to become acquainted with
some of his former intimates. But the Colonel, after one or two
visits, shook his head, and declined farther experiment. Indeed he
went farther, and characterised the Baron as the most intolerable
formal pedant he had ever had the misfortune to meet with, and the
Chief of Glennaquoich as a Frenchified Scotchman, possessing all
the cunning and plausibility of the nation where he was educated,
with the proud, vindictive, and turbulent humour of that of his
birth. 'If the devil,' he said, 'had sought out an agent expressly
for the purpose of embroiling this miserable country, I do not
think he could find a better than such a fellow as this, whose
temper seems equally active, supple, and mischievous, and who is
followed, and implicitly obeyed, by a gang of such cut-throats as
those whom you are pleased to admire so much.'
The ladies of the party did not escape his censure. He allowed
that Flora Mac-Ivor was a fine woman, and Rose Bradwardine a
pretty girl. But he alleged that the former destroyed the effect
of her beauty by an affectation of the grand airs which she had
probably seen practised in the mock court of St. Germains. As for
Rose Bradwardine, he said it was impossible for any mortal to
admire such a little uninformed thing, whose small portion of
education was as ill adapted to her sex or youth as if she had
appeared with one of her father's old campaign-coats upon her
person for her sole garment. Now much of this was mere spleen and
prejudice in the excellent Colonel, with whom the white cockade on
the breast, the white rose in the hair, and the Mac at the
beginning of a name would have made a devil out of an angel; and
indeed he himself jocularly allowed that he could not have endured
Venus herself if she had been announced in a drawing-room by the
name of Miss Mac-Jupiter.
Waverley, it may easily be believed, looked upon these young
ladies with very different eyes. During the period of the siege he
paid them almost daily visits, although he observed with regret
that his suit made as little progress in the affections of the
former as the arms of the Chevalier in subduing the fortress. She
maintained with rigour the rule she had laid down of treating him
with indifference, without either affecting to avoid him or to
shun intercourse with him. Every word, every look, was strictly
regulated to accord with her system, and neither the dejection of
Waverley nor the anger which Fergus scarcely suppressed could
extend Flora's attention to Edward beyond that which the most
ordinary politeness demanded. On the other hand, Rose Bradwardine
gradually rose in Waverley's opinion. He had several opportunities
of remarking that, as her extreme timidity wore off, her manners
assumed a higher character; that the agitating circumstances of
the stormy time seemed to call forth a certain dignity of feeling
and expression which he had not formerly observed; and that she
omitted no opportunity within her reach to extend her knowledge
and refine her taste.
Flora Mac-Ivor called Rose her pupil, and was attentive to assist
her in her studies, and to fashion both her taste and
understanding. It might have been remarked by a very close
observer that in the presence of Waverley she was much more
desirous to exhibit her friend's excellences than her own. But I
must request of the reader to suppose that this kind and
disinterested purpose was concealed by the most cautious delicacy,
studiously shunning the most distant approach to affectation. So
that it was as unlike the usual exhibition of one pretty woman
affecting to proner another as the friendship of David and
Jonathan might be to the intimacy of two Bond Street loungers. The
fact is that, though the effect was felt, the cause could hardly
be observed. Each of the ladies, like two excellent actresses,
were perfect in their parts, and performed them to the delight of
the audience; and such being the case, it was almost impossible to
discover that the elder constantly ceded to her friend that which
was most suitable to her talents.
But to Waverley Rose Bradwardine possessed an attraction which few
men can resist, from the marked interest which she took in
everything that affected him. She was too young and too
inexperienced to estimate the full force of the constant attention
which she paid to him. Her father was too abstractedly immersed in
learned and military discussions to observe her partiality, and
Flora Mac-Ivor did not alarm her by remonstrance, because she saw
in this line of conduct the most probable chance of her friend
securing at length a return of affection.
The truth is, that in her first conversation after their meeting
Rose had discovered the state of her mind to that acute and
intelligent friend, although she was not herself aware of it. From
that time Flora was not only determined upon the final rejection
of Waverley's addresses, but became anxious that they should, if
possible, be transferred to her friend. Nor was she less
interested in this plan, though her brother had from time to time
talked, as between jest and earnest, of paying his suit to Miss
Bradwardine. She knew that Fergus had the true continental
latitude of opinion respecting the institution of marriage, and
would not have given his hand to an angel unless for the purpose
of strengthening his alliances and increasing his influence and
wealth. The Baron's whim of transferring his estate to the distant
heir-male, instead of his own daughter, was therefore likely to be
an insurmountable obstacle to his entertaining any serious
thoughts of Rose Bradwardine. Indeed, Fergus's brain was a
perpetual workshop of scheme and intrigue, of every possible kind
and description; while, like many a mechanic of more ingenuity
than steadiness, he would often unexpectedly, and without any
apparent motive, abandon one plan and go earnestly to work upon
another, which was either fresh from the forge of his imagination
or had at some former period been flung aside half finished. It
was therefore often difficult to guess what line of conduct he
might finally adopt upon any given occasion.
Although Flora was sincerely attached to her brother, whose high
energies might indeed have commanded her admiration even without
the ties which bound them together, she was by no means blind to
his faults, which she considered as dangerous to the hopes of any
woman who should found her ideas of a happy marriage in the
peaceful enjoyment of domestic society and the exchange of mutual
and engrossing affection. The real disposition of Waverley, on the
other hand, notwithstanding his dreams of tented fields and
military honour, seemed exclusively domestic. He asked and
received no share in the busy scenes which were constantly going
on around him, and was rather annoyed than interested by the
discussion of contending claims, rights, and interests which often
passed in his presence. All this pointed him out as the person
formed to make happy a spirit like that of Rose, which
corresponded with his own.
She remarked this point in Waverley's character one day while she
sat with Miss Bradwardine. 'His genius and elegant taste,'
answered Rose, 'cannot be interested in such trifling discussions.
What is it to him, for example, whether the Chief of the
Macindallaghers, who has brought out only fifty men, should be a
colonel or a captain? and how could Mr. Waverley be supposed to
interest himself in the violent altercation between your brother
and young Corrinaschian whether the post of honour is due to the
eldest cadet of a clan or the youngest?'
'My dear Rose, if he were the hero you suppose him he would
interest himself in these matters, not indeed as important in
themselves, but for the purpose of mediating between the ardent
spirits who actually do make them the subject of discord. You saw
when Corrinaschian raised his voice in great passion, and laid his
hand upon his sword, Waverley lifted his head as if he had just
awaked from a dream, and asked with great composure what the
matter was.'
'Well, and did not the laughter they fell into at his absence of
mind serve better to break off the dispute than anything he could
have said to them?'
'True, my dear,' answered Flora; 'but not quite so creditably for
Waverley as if he had brought them to their senses by force of
reason.'
'Would you have him peacemaker general between all the gunpowder
Highlanders in the army? I beg your pardon, Flora, your brother,
you know, is out of the question; he has more sense than half of
them. But can you think the fierce, hot, furious spirits of whose
brawls we see much and hear more, and who terrify me out of my
life every day in the world, are at all to be compared to
Waverley?'
'I do not compare him with those uneducated men, my dear Rose. I
only lament that, with his talents and genius, he does not assume
that place in society for which they eminently fit him, and that
he does not lend their full impulse to the noble cause in which he
has enlisted. Are there not Lochiel, and P--, and M--, and G--,
all men of the highest education as well as the first talents,--
why will he not stoop like them to be alive and useful? I often
believe his zeal is frozen by that proud cold-blooded Englishman
whom he now lives with so much.'
'Colonel Talbot? he is a very disagreeable person, to be sure. He
looks as if he thought no Scottish woman worth the trouble of
handing her a cup of tea. But Waverley is so gentle, so well
informed--'
'Yes,' said Flora, smiling, 'he can admire the moon and quote a
stanza from Tasso.'
'Besides, you know how he fought,' added Miss Bradwardine.
'For mere fighting,' answered Flora,' I believe all men (that is,
who deserve the name) are pretty much alike; there is generally
more courage required to run away. They have besides, when
confronted with each other, a certain instinct for strife, as we
see in other male animals, such as dogs, bulls, and so forth. But
high and perilous enterprise is not Waverley's forte. He would
never have been his celebrated ancestor Sir Nigel, but only Sir
Nigel's eulogist and poet. I will tell you where he will be at
home, my dear, and in his place--in the quiet circle of domestic
happiness, lettered indolence, and elegant enjoyments of Waverley-
Honour. And he will refit the old library in the most exquisite
Gothic taste, and garnish its shelves with the rarest and most
valuable volumes; and he will draw plans and landscapes, and write
verses, and rear temples, and dig grottoes; and he will stand in a
clear summer night in the colonnade before the hall, and gaze on
the deer as they stray in the moonlight, or lie shadowed by the
boughs of the huge old fantastic oaks; and he will repeat verses
to his beautiful wife, who will hang upon his arm;--and he will be
a happy man.'
And she will be a happy woman, thought poor Rose. But she only
sighed and dropped the conversation.