Waverley Novels — Volume 12

by Walter Scott

  THE MIRROR.

  CHAPTER THE FIRST.

  You are fond (said my aunt) of sketches of the society which has passedaway. I wish I could describe to you Sir Philip Forester, the"chartered libertine" of Scottish good company, about the end of thelast century. I never saw him indeed; but my mother's traditions werefull of his wit, gallantry and dissipation. This gay knight flourishedabout the end of the 17th and beginning of the 18th century. He was theSir Charles Easy and the Lovelace of his day and country; renowned forthe number of duels he had fought, and the successful intrigues whichhe had carried on. The supremacy which he had attained in thefashionable world was absolute; and when we combine with it one or twoanecdotes, for which, "if laws were made for every degree," he oughtcertainly to have been hanged, the popularity of such a person reallyserves to show, either that the present times are much more decent, ifnot more virtuous, than they formerly were; or, that high breeding thenwas of more difficult attainment than that which is now so called; and,consequently, entitled the successful professor to a proportionabledegree of plenary indulgences and privileges. No beau of this day couldhave borne out so ugly a story as that of Pretty Peggy Grindstone, themiller's daughter at Sillermills--it had well-nigh made work for theLord Advocate. But it hurt Sir Philip Forester no more than the hailhurts the hearth-stone. He was as well received in society as ever, anddined with the Duke of A---- the day the poor girl was buried. She diedof heart-break. But that has nothing to do with my story.

  Now, you must listen to a single word upon kith, kin, and ally; Ipromise you I will not be prolix. But it is necessary to theauthenticity of my legend, that you should know that Sir PhilipForester, with his handsome person, elegant accomplishments, andfashionable manners, married the younger Miss Falconer of King'sCopland. The elder sister of this lady had previously become the wifeof my grandfather, Sir Geoffrey Bothwell, and brought into our family agood fortune. Miss Jemima, or Miss Jemmie Falconer, as she was usuallycalled, had also about ten thousand pounds sterling--then thought avery handsome portion indeed.

  The two sisters were extremely different, though each had theiradmirers while they remained single. Lady Bothwell had some touch ofthe old King's Copland blood about her. She was bold, though not to thedegree of audacity; ambitious, and desirous to raise her house andfamily; and was, as has been said, a considerable spur to mygrandfather, who was otherwise an indolent man; but whom, unless he hasbeen slandered, his lady's influence involved in some political matterswhich had been more wisely let alone. She was a woman of highprinciple, however, and masculine good sense, as some of her letterstestify, which are still in my wainscot cabinet.

  Jemmie Falconer was the reverse of her sister in every respect. Herunderstanding did not reach above the ordinary pitch, if, indeed, shecould be said to have attained it. Her beauty, while it lasted,consisted, in a great measure, of delicacy of complexion and regularityof features, without any peculiar force of expression. Even thesecharms faded under the sufferings attendant on an ill-sorted match. Shewas passionately attached to her husband, by whom she was treated witha callous, yet polite indifference, which, to one whose heart was astender as her judgment was weak, was more painful perhaps than absoluteill-usage. Sir Philip was a voluptuary, that is, a completely selfishegotist, whose disposition and character resembled the rapier he wore,polished, keen, and brilliant, but inflexible and unpitying. As heobserved carefully all the usual forms towards his lady, he had the artto deprive her even of the compassion of the world; and useless andunavailing as that may be while actually possessed by the sufferer, itis, to a mind like Lady Forester's, most painful to know she has it not.

  The tattle of society did its best to place the peccant husband abovethe suffering wife. Some called her a poor spiritless thing, anddeclared, that, with a little of her sister's spirit, she might havebrought to reason any Sir Philip whatsoever, were it the termagantFalconbridge himself. But the greater part of their acquaintanceaffected candour, and saw faults on both sides; though, in fact, thereonly existed the oppressor and the oppressed. The tone of such criticswas--"To be sure, no one will justify Sir Philip Forester, but then weall know Sir Philip, and Jemmie Falconer might have known what she hadto expect from the beginning.--What made her set her cap at SirPhilip?--He would never have looked at her if she had not thrownherself at his head, with her poor ten thousand pounds. I am sure, ifit is money he wanted, she spoiled his market. I know where Sir Philipcould have done much better.--And then, if she _would_ have the man,could not she try to make him more comfortable at home, and have hisfriends oftener, and not plague him with the squalling children, andtake care all was handsome and in good style about the house? I declareI think Sir Philip would have made a very domestic man, with a womanwho knew how to manage him."

  Now these fair critics, in raising their profound edifice of domesticfelicity, did not recollect that the corner-stone was wanting; and thatto receive good company with good cheer, the means of the banquet oughtto have been furnished by Sir Philip; whose income (dilapidated as itwas) was not equal to the display of hospitality required, and, at thesame time, to the supply of the good knight's _menus plaisirs_. So, inspite of all that was so sagely suggested by female friends, Sir Philipcarried his good-humour every where abroad, and left at home a solitarymansion and a pining spouse.

  At length, inconvenienced in his money affairs, and tired even of theshort time which he spent in his own dull house, Sir Philip Foresterdetermined to take a trip to the Continent, in the capacity of avolunteer. It was then common for men of fashion to do so; and ourknight perhaps was of opinion that a touch of the military character,just enough to exalt, but not render pedantic, his qualities as a _beaugarcon_, was necessary to maintain possession of the elevated situationwhich he held in the ranks of fashion.

  Sir Philip's resolution threw his wife into agonies of terror, by whichthe worthy baronet was so much annoyed, that, contrary to his wont, hetook some trouble to soothe her apprehensions; and once more broughther to shed tears, in which sorrow was not altogether unmingled withpleasure. Lady Bothwell asked, as a favour, Sir Philip's permission toreceive her sister and her family into her own house during his absenceon the Continent. Sir Philip readily assented to a proposition whichsaved expense, silenced the foolish people who might have talked of adeserted wife and family, and gratified Lady Bothwell, for whom he feltsome respect, as for one who often spoke to him, always with freedom,and sometimes with severity, without being deterred either by hisraillery, or the _prestige_ of his reputation.

  A day or two before Sir Philip's departure, Lady Bothwell took theliberty of asking him, in her sister's presence, the direct question,which his timid wife had often desired, but never ventured, to put tohim.

  "Pray, Sir Philip, what route do you take when you reach the Continent?"

  "I go from Leith to Helvoet by a packet with advices."

  "That I comprehend perfectly," said Lady Bothwell dryly; "but you donot mean to remain long at Helvoet, I presume, and I should like toknow what is your next object?"

  "You ask me, my dear lady," answered Sir Philip, "a question which Ihave not dared to ask myself. The answer depends on the fate of war. Ishall, of course, go to headquarters, wherever they may happen to befor the time; deliver my letters of introduction; learn as much of thenoble art of war as may suffice a poor interloping amateur; and thentake a glance at the sort of thing of which we read so much in theGazette."

  "And I trust, Sir Philip," said Lady Bothwell, "that you will rememberthat you are a husband and a father; and that though you think fit toindulge this military fancy, you will not let it hurry you into dangerswhich it is certainly unnecessary for any save professional persons toencounter?"

  "Lady Bothwell does me too much honour," replied the adventurousknight, "in regarding such a circumstance with the slightest interest.But to soothe your flattering anxiety, I trust your ladyship willrecollect, that I cannot expose to hazard the venerable and paternalcharacter which you so obligingly recommend to my pro
tection, withoutputting in some peril an honest fellow, called Philip Forester, withwhom I have kept company for thirty years, and with whom, though somefolk consider him a coxcomb, I have not the least desire to part."

  "Well, Sir Philip, you are the best judge of your own affairs; I havelittle right to interfere--you are not my husband."

  "God forbid!"--said Sir Philip hastily; instantly adding, however, "Godforbid that I should deprive my friend Sir Geoffrey of so inestimable atreasure."

  "But you are my sister's husband," replied the lady; "and I suppose youare aware of her present distress of mind--"

  "If hearing of nothing else from morning to night can make me aware ofit," said Sir Philip, "I should know something of the matter."

  "I do not pretend to reply to your wit, Sir Philip," answered LadyBothwell, "but you must be sensible that all this distress is onaccount of apprehensions for your personal safety."

  "In that case, I am surprised that Lady Bothwell, at least, should giveherself so much trouble upon so insignificant a subject."

  "My sister's interest may account for my being anxious to learnsomething of Sir Philip Forester's motions; about which otherwise, Iknow, he would not wish me to concern myself. I have a brother'ssafety, too, to be anxious for."

  "You mean Major Falconer, your brother by the mother's side:--What canhe possibly have to do with our present agreeable conversation?"

  "You have had words together, Sir Philip," said Lady Bothwell.

  "Naturally; we are connections," replied Sir Philip, "and as such havealways had the usual intercourse."

  "That is an evasion of the subject," answered the lady. "By words, Imean angry words, on the subject of your usage of your wife."

  "If," replied Sir Philip Forester, "you suppose Major Falconer simpleenough to intrude his advice upon me, Lady Bothwell, in my domesticmatters, you are indeed warranted in believing that I might possibly beso far displeased with the interference, as to request him to reservehis advice till it was asked."

  "And, being on these terms, you are going to join the very army inwhich my brother Falconer is now serving?"

  "No man knows the path of honour better than Major Falconer," said SirPhilip. "An aspirant after fame, like me, cannot choose a better guidethan his footsteps."

  Lady Bothwell rose and went to the window, the tears gushing from hereyes.

  "And this heartless raillery," she said, "is all the consideration thatis to be given to our apprehensions of a quarrel which may bring on themost terrible consequences? Good God! of what can men's hearts be made,who can thus dally with the agony of others?"

  Sir Philip Forester was moved; he laid aside the mocking tone in whichhe had hitherto spoken.

  "Dear Lady Bothwell," he said, taking her reluctant hand, "we are bothwrong:--you are too deeply serious; I, perhaps, too little. The disputeI had with Major Falconer was of no earthly consequence. Had any thingoccurred betwixt us that ought to have been settled _par voie du fait_,as we say in France, neither of us are persons that are likely topostpone such a meeting. Permit me to say, that were it generally knownthat you or my Lady Forester are apprehensive of such a catastrophe, itmight be the very means of bringing about what would not otherwise belikely to happen. I know your good sense, Lady Bothwell, and that youwill understand me when I say, that really my affairs require myabsence for some months;--this Jemima cannot understand; it is aperpetual recurrence of questions, why can you not do this, or that, orthe third thing; and, when you have proved to her that her expedientsare totally ineffectual, you have just to begin the whole round again.Now, do you tell her, dear Lady Bothwell, that _you_ are satisfied. Sheis, you must confess, one of those persons with whom authority goesfarther than reasoning. Do but repose a little confidence in me, andyou shall see how amply I will repay it."

  Lady Bothwell shook her head, as one but half satisfied. "How difficultit is to extend confidence, when the basis on which it ought to resthas been so much shaken! But I will do my best to make Jemima easy; andfarther, I can only say, that for keeping your present purpose, I holdyou responsible both to God and man."

  "Do not fear that I will deceive you," said Sir Philip; "the safestconveyance to me will be through the general post-office, Helvoetsluys,where I will take care to leave orders for forwarding my letters. Asfor Falconer, our only encounter will be over a bottle of Burgundy! somake yourself perfectly easy on his score."

  Lady Bothwell could not make herself easy; yet she was sensible thather sister hurt her own cause by _taking on_, as the maid-servants callit, too vehemently; and by showing before every stranger, by manner,and sometimes by words also, a dissatisfaction with her husband'sjourney, that was sure to come to his ears, and equally certain todisplease him. But there was no help for this domestic dissension,which ended only with the day of separation.

  I am sorry I cannot tell, with precision, the year in which Sir PhilipForester went over to Flanders; but it was one of those in which thecampaign opened with extraordinary fury; and many bloody, thoughindecisive, skirmishes were fought between the French on the one side,and the Allies on the other. In all our modern improvements, there arenone, perhaps, greater than in the accuracy and speed with whichintelligence is transmitted from any scene of action to those in thiscountry whom it may concern. During Marlborough's campaigns, thesufferings of the many who had relations in, or along with, the army,were greatly augmented by the suspense in which they were detained forweeks, after they had heard of bloody battles in which, in allprobability, those for whom their bosoms throbbed with anxiety had beenpersonally engaged. Amongst those who were most agonized by this stateof uncertainty, was the--I had almost said deserted---wife of the gaySir Philip Forester. A single letter had informed her of his arrival onthe Continent--no others were received. One notice occurred in thenewspapers, in which Volunteer Sir Philip Forester was mentioned ashaving been entrusted with a dangerous reconnoissance, which he hadexecuted with the greatest courage, dexterity, and intelligence, andreceived the thanks of the commanding officer. The sense of his havingacquired distinction brought a momentary glow into the lady's palecheek; but it--was instantly lost in ashen whiteness at therecollection of his danger. After this, they had no news whatever,neither from Sir Philip, nor even from their brother Falconer. The caseof Lady Forester was not indeed different from that of hundreds in thesame situation; but a feeble mind is necessarily an irritable one, andthe suspense which some bear with constitutional indifference orphilosophical resignation, and some with a disposition to believe andhope the best, was intolerable to Lady Forester, at once solitary andsensitive, low-spirited, and devoid of strength of mind, whethernatural or acquired.