by Walter Scott
CHAPTER III
EDUCATION
The education of our hero, Edward Waverley, was of a nature somewhatdesultory. 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 theprosecution of any of his plans of interest or ambition, called hisfather to town, which was his usual residence for eight months in theyear, Edward was transferred to Waverley-Honour, and experienced atotal change of instructors and of lessons, as well as of residence.This might have been remedied had his father placed him under thesuperintendence of a permanent tutor. But he considered that one of hischoosing would probably have been unacceptable at Waverley-Honour, andthat such a selection as Sir Everard might have made, were the matterleft to him, would have burdened him with a disagreeable inmate, if nota political spy, in his family. He therefore prevailed upon his privatesecretary, a young man of taste and accomplishments, to bestow an houror two on Edward's education while at Brerewood Lodge, and left hisuncle answerable for his improvement in literature while an inmate atthe Hall. This was in some degree respectably provided for. SirEverard's chaplain, an Oxonian, who had lost his fellowship fordeclining to take the oaths at the accession of George I, was not onlyan excellent classical scholar, but reasonably skilled in science, andmaster of most modern languages. He was, however, old and indulgent,and the recurring interregnum, during which Edward was entirely freedfrom his discipline, occasioned such a relaxation of authority, thatthe youth was permitted, in a great measure, to learn as he pleased,what he pleased, and when he pleased. This slackness of rule might havebeen ruinous to a boy of slow understanding, who, feeling labour in theacquisition of knowledge, would have altogether neglected it, save forthe command of a taskmaster; and it might have proved equally dangerousto a youth whose animal spirits were more powerful than his imaginationor his feelings, and whom the irresistible influence of Alma would haveengaged in field-sports from morning till night. But the character ofEdward Waverley was remote from either of these. His powers ofapprehension were so uncommonly quick as almost to resemble intuition,and the chief care of his preceptor was to prevent him, as a sportsmanwould phrase it, from over-running his game--that is, from acquiringhis knowledge in a slight, flimsy, and inadequate manner. And here theinstructor had to combat another propensity too often united withbrilliancy of fancy and vivacity of talent--that indolence, namely, ofdisposition, which can only be stirred by some strong motive ofgratification, and which renounces study as soon as curiosity isgratified, the pleasure of conquering the first difficulties exhausted,and the novelty of pursuit at an end. Edward would throw himself withspirit upon any classical author of which his preceptor proposed theperusal, make himself master of the style so far as to understand thestory, and, if that pleased or interested him, he finished the volume.But it was in vain to attempt fixing his attention on criticaldistinctions of philology, upon the difference of idiom, the beauty offelicitous expression, or the artificial combinations of syntax. 'I canread and understand a Latin author,' said young Edward, with theself-confidence and rash reasoning of fifteen, 'and Scaliger or Bentleycould not do much more.' Alas! while he was thus permitted to read onlyfor the gratification of his amusement, he foresaw not that he waslosing for ever the opportunity of acquiring habits of firm andassiduous application, of gaining the art of controlling, directing,and concentrating the powers of his mind for earnest investigation--anart far more essential than even that intimate acquaintance withclassical learning which is the primary object of study.
I am aware I may be here reminded of the necessity of renderinginstruction agreeable to youth, and of Tasso's infusion of honey intothe medicine prepared for a child; but an age in which children aretaught the driest doctrines by the insinuating method of instructivegames, has little reason to dread the consequences of study beingrendered too serious or severe. The history of England is now reducedto a game at cards, the problems of mathematics to puzzles and riddles,and the doctrines of arithmetic may, we are assured, be sufficientlyacquired by spending a few hours a week at a new and complicatededition of the Royal Game of the Goose. There wants but one stepfurther, and the Creed and Ten Commandments may be taught in the samemanner, without the necessity of the grave face, deliberate tone ofrecital, and devout attention, hitherto exacted from the well-governedchildhood of this realm. It may, in the meantime, be subject of seriousconsideration, whether those who are accustomed only to acquireinstruction through the medium of amusement may not be brought toreject that which approaches under the aspect of study; whether thosewho learn history by the cards may not be led to prefer the means tothe 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 theirreligion. To our young hero, who was permitted to seek his instructiononly according to the bent of his own mind, and who, of consequence,only sought it so long as it afforded him amusement, the indulgence ofhis tutors was attended with evil consequences, which long continued toinfluence his character, happiness, and utility.
Edward's power of imagination and love of literature, although theformer was vivid and the latter ardent, were so far from affording aremedy to this peculiar evil, that they rather inflamed and increasedits violence. The library at Waverley-Honour, a large Gothic room, withdouble arches and a gallery, contained such a miscellaneous andextensive collection of volumes as had been assembled together, duringthe course of two hundred years, by a family which had been alwayswealthy, and inclined, of course, as a mark of splendour, to furnishtheir shelves with the current literature of the day, without muchscrutiny or nicety of discrimination. Throughout this ample realmEdward was permitted to roam at large. His tutor had his own studies;and church politics and controversial divinity, together with a love oflearned ease, though they did not withdraw his attention at statedtimes from the progress of his patron's presumptive heir, induced himreadily to grasp at any apology for not extending a strict andregulated survey towards his general studies. Sir Everard had neverbeen himself a student, and, like his sister, Miss Rachel Waverley, heheld the common doctrine, that idleness is incompatible with reading ofany kind, and that the mere tracing the alphabetical characters withthe eye is in itself a useful and meritorious task, withoutscrupulously considering what ideas or doctrines they may happen toconvey. With a desire of amusement, therefore, which better disciplinemight soon have converted into a thirst for knowledge, young Waverleydrove through the sea of books like a vessel without a pilot or arudder. Nothing perhaps increases by indulgence more than a desultoryhabit of reading, especially under such opportunities of gratifying it.I believe one reason why such numerous instances of erudition occuramong the lower ranks is, that, with the same powers of mind, the poorstudent is limited to a narrow circle for indulging his passion forbooks, and must necessarily make himself master of the few he possessesere he can acquire more. Edward, on the contrary, like the epicure whoonly 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 orinterest; and it necessarily happened, that the habit of seeking onlythis sort of gratification rendered it daily more difficult ofattainment, 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 ina memory of uncommon tenacity, much curious, though ill-arranged andmiscellaneous information. In English literature he was master ofShakespeare and Milton, of our earlier dramatic authors, of manypicturesque and interesting passages from our old historicalchronicles, and was particularly well acquainted with Spenser, Drayton,and other poets who have exercised themselves on romantic fiction, ofall themes the most fascinating to a youthful imagination, before thepassions have roused themselves and demand poetry of a more sentimentaldescription. In this respect his acquaintance with Italian opened himyet a wider range. He had perused the numerous romantic poems, which,from the days of Pulci, have be
en a favourite exercise of the wits ofItaly, and had sought gratification in the numerous collections ofnovelle, which were brought forth by the genius of that elegant thoughluxurious nation, in emulation of the 'Decameron.' In classicalliterature, Waverley had made the usual progress, and read the usualauthors; and the French had afforded him an almost exhaustlesscollection of memoirs, scarcely more faithful than romances, and ofromances so well written as hardly to be distinguished from memoirs.The splendid pages of Froissart, with his heart-stirring andeye-dazzling descriptions of war and of tournaments, were among hischief favourites; and from those of Brantome and De la Noue he learnedto compare the wild and loose, yet superstitious, character of thenobles of the League with the stern, rigid, and sometimes turbulentdisposition of the Huguenot party. The Spanish had contributed to hisstock of chivalrous and romantic lore. The earlier literature of thenorthern nations did not escape the study of one who read rather toawaken the imagination than to benefit the understanding. And yet,knowing much that is known but to few, Edward Waverley might justly beconsidered as ignorant, since he knew little of what adds dignity toman, and qualifies him to support and adorn an elevated situation insociety.
The occasional attention of his parents might indeed have been ofservice to prevent the dissipation of mind incidental to such adesultory course of reading. But his mother died in the seventh yearafter the reconciliation between the brothers, and Richard Waverleyhimself, who, after this event, resided more constantly in London, wastoo much interested in his own plans of wealth and ambition to noticemore respecting Edward than that he was of a very bookish turn, andprobably destined to be a bishop. If he could have discovered andanalysed his son's waking dreams, he would have formed a very differentconclusion.