บทที่ บทที่ 6 · THE ADIEUS OF WAVERLEY

. THE ADIEUS OF WAVERLEY

It was upon the evening of this memorable Sunday that Sir Everard

entered the library, where he narrowly missed surprising our young hero

as he went through the guards of the broadsword with the ancient weapon

of old Sir Hildebrand, which, being preserved as an heirloom, usually

hung over the chimney in the library, beneath a picture of the knight

and his horse, where the features were almost entirely hidden by the

knight’s profusion of curled hair, and the Bucephalus which he bestrode

concealed by the voluminous robes of the Bath with which he was

decorated. Sir Everard entered, and after a glance at the picture and

another at his nephew, began a little speech, which, however, soon

dropt into the natural simplicity of his common manner, agitated upon

the present occasion by no common feeling. “Nephew,” he said; and then,

as mending his phrase, “My dear Edward, it is God’s will, and also the

will of your father, whom, under God, it is your duty to obey, that you

should leave us to take up the profession of arms, in which so many of

your ancestors have been distinguished. I have made such arrangements

as will enable you to take the field as their descendant, and as the

probable heir of the house of Waverley; and, sir, in the field of

battle you will remember what name you bear. And, Edward, my dear boy,

remember also that you are the last of that race, and the only hope of

its revival depends upon you; therefore, as far as duty and honour will

permit, avoid danger—I mean unnecessary danger—and keep no company with

rakes, gamblers, and Whigs, of whom, it is to be feared, there are but

too many in the service into which you are going. Your colonel, as I am

informed, is an excellent man—for a Presbyterian; but you will remember

your duty to God, the Church of England, and the—” (this breach ought

to have been supplied, according to the rubric, with the word “king;”

but as, unfortunately, that word conveyed a double and embarrassing

sense, one meaning _de facto_ and the other _de jure_, the knight

filled up the blank otherwise)—“the Church of England, and all

constituted authorities.” Then, not trusting himself with any further

oratory, he carried his nephew to his stables to see the horses

destined for his campaign. Two were black (the regimental colour),

superb chargers both; the other three were stout active hacks, designed

for the road, or for his domestics, of whom two were to attend him from

the Hall; an additional groom, if necessary, might be picked up in

Scotland.

“You will depart with but a small retinue,” quoth the Baronet,

“compared to Sir Hildebrand, when he mustered before the gate of the

Hall a larger body of horse than your whole regiment consists of. I

could have wished that these twenty young fellows from my estate, who

have enlisted in your troop, had been to march with you on your journey

to Scotland. It would have been something, at least; but I am told

their attendance would be thought unusual in these days, when every new

and foolish fashion is introduced to break the natural dependence of

the people upon their landlords.”

Sir Everard had done his best to correct this unnatural disposition of

the times; for he had brightened the chain of attachment between the

recruits and their young captain, not only by a copious repast of beef

and ale, by way of parting feast, but by such a pecuniary donation to

each individual as tended rather to improve the conviviality than the

discipline of their march. After inspecting the cavalry, Sir Everard

again conducted his nephew to the library, where he produced a letter,

carefully folded, surrounded by a little stripe of flox-silk, according

to ancient form, and sealed with an accurate impression of the Waverley

coat-of-arms. It was addressed, with great formality, “To Cosmo Comyne

Bradwardine, Esq., of Bradwardine, at his principal mansion of

Tully-Veolan, in Perthshire, North Britain. These—By the hands of

Captain Edward Waverley, nephew of Sir Everard Waverley, of

Waverley-Honour, Bart.”

The gentleman to whom this enormous greeting was addressed, of whom we

shall have more to say in the sequel, had been in arms for the exiled

family of Stuart in the year 1715, and was made prisoner at Preston in

Lancashire. He was of a very ancient family, and somewhat embarrassed

fortune; a scholar, according to the scholarship of Scotchmen, that is,

his learning was more diffuse than accurate, and he was rather a reader

than a grammarian. Of his zeal for the classic authors he is said to

have given an uncommon instance. On the road between Preston and

London, he made his escape from his guards; but being afterwards found

loitering near the place where they had lodged the former night, he was

recognised, and again arrested. His companions, and even his escort,

were surprised at his infatuation, and could not help inquiring, why,

being once at liberty, he had not made the best of his way to a place

of safety; to which he replied, that he had intended to do so, but, in

good faith, he had returned to seek his Titus Livius, which he had

forgot in the hurry of his escape.[3] The simplicity of this anecdote

struck the gentleman, who, as we before observed, had managed the

defence of some of those unfortunate persons, at the expense of Sir

Everard, and perhaps some others of the party. He was, besides, himself

a special admirer of the old Patavinian, and though probably his own

zeal might not have carried him such extravagant lengths, even to

recover the edition of Sweynheim and Pannartz (supposed to be the

_princeps_), he did not the less estimate the devotion of the North

Briton, and in consequence exerted himself to so much purpose to remove

and soften evidence, detect legal flaws, _et cetera_, that he

accomplished the final discharge and deliverance of Cosmo Comyne

Bradwardine from certain very awkward consequences of a plea before our

sovereign lord the king in Westminster.

The Baron of Bradwardine, for he was generally so called in Scotland

(although his intimates, from his place of residence, used to

denominate him Tully-Veolan, or more familiarly, Tully), no sooner

stood _rectus in curia_ than he posted down to pay his respects and

make his acknowledgments at Waverley-Honour. A congenial passion for

field-sports, and a general coincidence in political opinions, cemented

his friendship with Sir Everard, notwithstanding the difference of

their habits and studies in other particulars; and, having spent

several weeks at Waverley-Honour, the Baron departed with many

expressions of regard, warmly pressing the Baronet to return his visit,

and partake of the diversion of grouse-shooting, upon his moors in

Perthshire next season. Shortly after, Mr. Bradwardine remitted from

Scotland a sum in reimbursement of expenses incurred in the King’s High

Court of Westminster, which, although not quite so formidable when

reduced to the English denomination, had, in its original form of

Scotch pounds, shillings, and pence, such a formidable effect upon the

frame of Duncan Macwheeble, the laird’s confidential factor,

baron-bailie, and man of resource, that he had a fit of the cholic,

which lasted for five days, occasioned, he said, solely and utterly by

becoming the unhappy instrument of conveying such a serious sum of

money out of his native country into the hands of the false English.

But patriotism, as it is the fairest, so it is often the most

suspicious mask of other feelings; and many who knew Bailie Macwheeble

concluded that his professions of regret were not altogether

disinterested, and that he would have grudged the moneys paid to the

_loons_ at Westminster much less had they not come from Bradwardine

estate, a fund which he considered as more particularly his own. But

the Bailie protested he was absolutely disinterested—

“Woe, woe, for Scotland, not a whit for me!”

The laird was only rejoiced that his worthy friend, Sir Everard

Waverley of Waverley-Honour, was reimbursed of the expenditure which he

had outlaid on account of the house of Bradwardine. It concerned, he

said, the credit of his own family, and of the kingdom of Scotland at

large, that these disbursements should be repaid forthwith, and, if

delayed, it would be a matter of national reproach. Sir Everard,

accustomed to treat much larger sums with indifference, received the

remittance of £294, 13_s_. 6_d_. without being aware that the payment

was an international concern, and, indeed, would probably have forgot

the circumstance altogether, if Bailie Macwheeble had thought of

comforting his cholic by intercepting the subsidy. A yearly intercourse

took place, of a short letter and a hamper or a cask or two, between

Waverley-Honour and Tully-Veolan, the English exports consisting of

mighty cheeses and mightier ale, pheasants, and venison, and the

Scottish returns being vested in grouse, white hares, pickled salmon,

and usquebaugh; all which were meant, sent, and received as pledges of

constant friendship and amity between two important houses. It followed

as a matter of course, that the heir-apparent of Waverley-Honour could

not with propriety visit Scotland without being furnished with

credentials to the Baron of Bradwardine.

When this matter was explained and settled, Mr. Pembroke expressed his

wish to take a private and particular leave of his dear pupil. The good

man’s exhortations to Edward to preserve an unblemished life and

morals, to hold fast the principles of the Christian religion, and to

eschew the profane company of scoffers and latitudinarians, too much

abounding in the army, were not unmingled with his political

prejudices. It had pleased Heaven, he said, to place Scotland

(doubtless for the sins of their ancestors in 1642) in a more

deplorable state of darkness than even this unhappy kingdom of England.

Here, at least, although the candlestick of the Church of England had

been in some degree removed from its place, it yet afforded a

glimmering light; there was a hierarchy, though schismatical, and

fallen from the principles maintained by those great fathers of the

church, Sancroft and his brethren; there was a liturgy, though woefully

perverted in some of the principal petitions. But in Scotland it was

utter darkness; and, excepting a sorrowful, scattered, and persecuted

remnant, the pulpits were abandoned to Presbyterians, and, he feared,

to sectaries of every description. It should be his duty to fortify his

dear pupil to resist such unhallowed and pernicious doctrines in church

and state as must necessarily be forced at times upon his unwilling

ears.

Here he produced two immense folded packets, which appeared each to

contain a whole ream of closely written manuscript. They had been the

labour of the worthy man’s whole life; and never were labour and zeal

more absurdly wasted. He had at one time gone to London, with the

intention of giving them to the world, by the medium of a bookseller in

Little Britain, well known to deal in such commodities, and to whom he

was instructed to address himself in a particular phrase and with a

certain sign, which, it seems, passed at that time current among the

initiated Jacobites. The moment Mr. Pembroke had uttered the

Shibboleth, with the appropriate gesture, the bibliopolist greeted him,

notwithstanding every disclamation, by the title of Doctor, and

conveying him into his back shop, after inspecting every possible and

impossible place of concealment, he commenced: “Eh, Doctor!—Well—all

under the rose—snug—I keep no holes here even for a Hanoverian rat to

hide in. And, what—eh! any good news from our friends over the

water?—and how does the worthy King of France?—Or perhaps you are more

lately from Rome? it must be Rome will do it at last—the church must

light its candle at the old lamp.—Eh—what, cautious? I like you the

better; but no fear.”

Here Mr. Pembroke with some difficulty stopt a torrent of

interrogations, eked out with signs, nods, and winks; and, having at

length convinced the bookseller that he did him too much honour in

supposing him an emissary of exiled royalty, he explained his actual

business.

The man of books with a much more composed air proceeded to examine the

manuscripts. The title of the first was “A Dissent from Dissenters, or

the Comprehension confuted; showing the Impossibility of any

Composition between the Church and Puritans, Presbyterians, or

Sectaries of any Description; illustrated from the Scriptures, the

Fathers of the Church, and the soundest Controversial Divines.” To this

work the bookseller positively demurred. “Well meant,” he said, “and

learned, doubtless;” but the time had gone by. Printed on small-pica it

would run to eight hundred pages, and could never pay. Begged therefore

to be excused. Loved and honoured the true church from his soul, and,

had it been a sermon on the martyrdom, or any twelve-penny touch—“why,

I would venture something for the honour of the cloth. But come, let’s

see the other. ‘Right Hereditary righted!’—Ah! there’s some sense in

this. Hum—hum—hum—pages so many, paper so much, letter-press—Ah—I’ll

tell you, though, Doctor, you must knock out some of the Latin and

Greek; heavy, Doctor, damn’d heavy—(beg your pardon) and if you throw

in a few grains more pepper—I am he that never preached my author. I

have published for Drake and Charlwood Lawton, and poor Amhurst.[4] Ah,

Caleb! Caleb! Well, it was a shame to let poor Caleb starve, and so

many fat rectors and squires among us. I gave him a dinner once a week;

but, Lord love you, what’s once a week, when a man does not know where

to go the other six days? Well, but I must show the manuscript to

little Tom Alibi the solicitor, who manages all my law affairs—must

keep on the windy side; the mob were very uncivil the last time I

mounted in Old Palace Yard—all Whigs and Roundheads every man of them,

Williamites and Hanover rats.”

The next day Mr. Pembroke again called on the publisher, but found Tom

Alibi’s advice had determined him against undertaking the work. “Not

but what I would go to—(what was I going to say?) to the Plantations

for the church with pleasure—but, dear Doctor, I have a wife and

family; but, to show my zeal, I’ll recommend the job to my neighbour

Trimmel—he is a bachelor, and leaving off business, so a voyage in a

western barge would not inconvenience him.” But Mr. Trimmel was also

obdurate, and Mr. Pembroke, fortunately perchance for himself, was

compelled to return to Waverley-Honour with his treatise in vindication

of the real fundamental principles of church and state safely packed in

his saddle-bags.

As the public were thus likely to be deprived of the benefit arising

from his lucubrations by the selfish cowardice of the trade, Mr.

Pembroke resolved to make two copies of these tremendous manuscripts

for the use of his pupil. He felt that he had been indolent as a tutor,

and, besides, his conscience checked him for complying with the request

of Mr. Richard Waverley, that he would impress no sentiments upon

Edward’s mind inconsistent with the present settlement in church and

state. But now, thought he, I may, without breach of my word, since he

is no longer under my tuition, afford the youth the means of judging

for himself, and have only to dread his reproaches for so long

concealing the light which the perusal will flash upon his mind. While

he thus indulged the reveries of an author and a politician, his

darling proselyte, seeing nothing very inviting in the title of the

tracts, and appalled by the bulk and compact lines of the manuscript,

quietly consigned them to a corner of his travelling trunk.

Aunt Rachel’s farewell was brief and affectionate. She only cautioned

her dear Edward, whom she probably deemed somewhat susceptible, against

the fascination of Scottish beauty. She allowed that the northern part

of the island contained some ancient families, but they were all Whigs

and Presbyterians except the Highlanders; and respecting them she must

needs say, there could be no great delicacy among the ladies, where the

gentlemen’s usual attire was, as she had been assured, to say the

least, very singular, and not at all decorous. She concluded her

farewell with a kind and moving benediction, and gave the young

officer, as a pledge of her regard, a valuable diamond ring (often worn

by the male sex at that time), and a purse of broad gold-pieces, which

also were more common Sixty Years Since than they have been of late.