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Waverley, Volume I

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Waverley, Volume I




I got access to it with some difficulty; and, in looking for lines
and flies, the long-lost manuscript presented itself.

I immediately set to work to complete it according to my original
purpose.

And here I must frankly confess that the mode in which I conducted
the story scarcely deserved the success which the romance
afterwards attained.

The tale of WAVERLEY was put together with so little care that I
cannot boast of having sketched any distinct plan of the work. The
whole adventures of Waverley, in his movements up and down the
country with the Highland cateran Bean Lean, are managed without
much skill. It suited best, however, the road I wanted to travel,
and permitted me to introduce some descriptions of scenery and
manners, to which the reality gave an interest which the powers of
the Author might have otherwise failed to attain for them. And
though I have been in other instances a sinner in this sort, I do
not recollect any of these novels in which I have transgressed so
widely as in the first of the series.

Among other unfounded reports, it has been said that the copyright
of Waverley was, during the book's progress through the press,
offered for sale to various book-sellers in London at a very
inconsiderable price. This was not the case. Messrs. Constable and
Cadell, who published the work, were the only persons acquainted
with the contents of the publication, and they offered a large sum
for it while in the course of printing, which, however, was
declined, the Author not choosing to part with the copyright.

The origin of the story of Waverley, and the particular facts on
which it is founded, are given in the separate introduction
prefixed to that romance in this edition, and require no notice in
this place.

Waverley was published in 1814, and, as the title-page was
without the name of the Author, the work was left to win its way
in the world without any of the usual recommendations. Its
progress was for some time slow; but after the first two or three
months its popularity had increased in a degree which must have
satisfied the expectations of the Author, had these been far more
sanguine than he ever entertained.

Great anxiety was expressed to learn the name of the Author, but
on this no authentic information could be attained. My original
motive for publishing the work anonymously was the consciousness
that it was an experiment on the public taste which might very
probably fail, and therefore there was no occasion to take on
myself the personal risk of discomfiture. For this purpose
considerable precautions were used to preserve secrecy. My old
friend and schoolfellow, Mr. James Ballantyne, who printed these
Novels, had the exclusive task of corresponding with the Author,
who thus had not only the advantage of his professional talents,
but also of his critical abilities. The original manuscript, or,
as it is technically called, copy, was transcribed under Mr.
Ballantyne's eye by confidential persons; nor was there an
instance of treachery during the many years in which these
precautions were resorted to, although various individuals were
employed at different times. Double proof-sheets were regularly
printed off. One was forwarded to the Author by Mr. Ballantyne,
and the alterations which it received were, by his own hand,
copied upon the other proof-sheet for the use of the printers, so
that even the corrected proofs of the Author were never seen in
the printing office; and thus the curiosity of such eager
inquirers as made the most minute investigation was entirely at
fault.

But although the cause of concealing the Author's name in the
first instance, when the reception of Waverley was doubtful, was
natural enough, it is more difficult, it may be thought, to
account for the same desire for secrecy during the subsequent
editions, to the amount of betwixt eleven and twelve thousand
copies, which followed each other close, and proved the success of
the work. I am sorry I can give little satisfaction to queries on
this subject. I have already stated elsewhere that I can render
little better reason for choosing to remain anonymous than by
saying with Shylock, that such was my humour. It will be observed
that I had not the usual stimulus for desiring personal
reputation, the desire, namely, to float amidst the conversation
of men. Of literary fame, whether merited or undeserved, I had
already as much as might have contented a mind more ambitious than
mine; and in entering into this new contest for reputation I might
be said rather to endanger what I had than to have any
considerable chance of acquiring more. I was affected, too, by
none of those motives which, at an earlier period of life, would
doubtless have operated upon me. My friendships were formed, my
place in society fixed, my life had attained its middle course. My
condition in society was higher perhaps than I deserved, certainly
as high as I wished, and there was scarce any degree of literary
success which could have greatly altered or improved my personal
condition.

I was not, therefore, touched by the spur of ambition, usually
stimulating on such occasions; and yet I ought to stand exculpated
from the charge of ungracious or unbecoming indifference to public
applause. I did not the less feel gratitude for the public favour,
although I did not proclaim it; as the lover who wears his
mistress's favour in his bosom is as proud, though not so vain, of
possessing it as another who displays the token of her grace upon
his bonnet. Far from such an ungracious state of mind, I have
seldom felt more satisfaction than when, returning from a pleasure
voyage, I found Waverley in the zenith of popularity, and public
curiosity in full cry after the name of the Author. The knowledge
that I had the public approbation was like having the property of
a hidden treasure, not less gratifying to the owner than if all
the world knew that it was his own. Another advantage was
connected with the secrecy which I observed. I could appear or
retreat from the stage at pleasure, without attracting any
personal notice or attention, other than what might be founded on
suspicion only. In my own person also, as a successful author in
another department of literature, I might have been charged with
too frequent intrusions on the public patience; but the Author of
Waverley was in this respect as impassible to the critic as the
Ghost of Hamlet to the partisan of Marcellus. Perhaps the
curiosity of the public, irritated by the existence of a secret,
and kept afloat by the discussions which took place on the subject
from time to time, went a good way to maintain an unabated
interest in these frequent publications. There was a mystery
concerning the Author which each new novel was expected to assist
in unravelling, although it might in other respects rank lower
than its predecessors.

I may perhaps be thought guilty of affectation, should I allege as
one reason of my silence a secret dislike to enter on personal
discussions concerning my own literary labours. It is in every
case a dangerous intercourse for an author to be dwelling
continually among those who make his writings a frequent and
familiar subject of conversation, but who must necessarily be
partial judges of works composed in their own society. The habits
of self-importance which are thus acquired by authors are highly
injurious to a well-regulated mind; for the cup of flattery, if it
does not, like that of Circe, reduce men to the level of beasts,
is sure, if eagerly drained, to bring the best and the ablest down
to that of fools. This risk was in some degree prevented by the
mask which I wore; and my own stores of self-conceit were left to
their natural course, without being enhanced by the partiality of
friends or adulation of flatterers.

If I am asked further reasons for the conduct I have long
observed, I can only resort to the explanation supplied by a
critic as friendly as he is intelligent; namely, that the mental
organisation of the novelist must be characterised, to speak
craniologically, by an extraordinary development of the passion
for delitescency! I the rather suspect some natural disposition of
this kind; for, from the instant I perceived the extreme curiosity
manifested on the subject, I felt a secret satisfaction in
baffling it, for which, when its unimportance is considered, I do
not well know how to account.

My desire to remain concealed, in the character of the Author of
these Novels, subjected me occasionally to awkward embarrassments,
as it sometimes happened that those who were sufficiently intimate
with me would put the question in direct terms. In this case, only
one of three courses could be followed. Either I must have
surrendered my secret, or have returned an equivocating answer,
or, finally, must have stoutly and boldly denied the fact. The
first was a sacrifice which I conceive no one had a right to force
from me, since I alone was concerned in the matter. The
alternative of rendering a doubtful answer must have left me open
to the degrading suspicion that I was not unwilling to assume the
merit (if there was any) which I dared not absolutely lay claim
to; or those who might think more justly of me must have received
such an equivocal answer as an indirect avowal. I therefore
considered myself entitled, like an accused person put upon trial,
to refuse giving my own evidence to my own conviction, and flatly
to deny all that could not be proved against me. At the same time
I usually qualified my denial by stating that, had I been the
Author of these works, I would have felt myself quite entitled to
protect my secret by refusing my own evidence, when it was asked
for to accomplish a discovery of what I desired to conceal.

The real truth is, that I never expected or hoped to disguise my
connection with these Novels from any one who lived on terms of
intimacy with me. The number of coincidences which necessarily
existed between narratives recounted, modes of expression, and
opinions broached in these Tales and such as were used by their
Author in the intercourse of private life must have been far too
great to permit any of my familiar acquaintances to doubt the
identity betwixt their friend and the Author of Waverley; and I
believe they were all morally convinced of it. But while I was
myself silent, their belief could not weigh much more with the
world than that of others; their opinions and reasoning were
liable to be taxed with partiality, or confronted with opposing
arguments and opinions; and the question was not so much whether I
should be generally acknowledged to be the Author, in spite of my
own denial, as whether even my own avowal of the works, if such
should be made, would be sufficient to put me in undisputed
possession of that character.

I have been often asked concerning supposed cases, in which I was
said to have been placed on the verge of discovery; but, as I
maintained my point with the composure of a lawyer of thirty
years' standing, I never recollect being in pain or confusion on
the subject. In Captain Medwyn's Conversations of Lord Byron the
reporter states himself to have asked my noble and highly gifted
friend,' If he was certain about these Novels being Sir Walter
Scott's?' To which Lord Byron replied, 'Scott as much as owned
himself the Author of Waverley to me in Murray's shop. I was
talking to him about that Novel, and lamented that its Author had
not carried back the story nearer to the time of the Revolution.
Scott, entirely off his guard, replied, "Ay, I might have done so;
but--" there he stopped. It was in vain to attempt to correct
himself; he looked confused, and relieved his embarrassment by a
precipitate retreat.' I have no recollection whatever of this
scene taking place, and I should have thought that I was more
likely to have laughed than to appear confused, for I certainly
never hoped to impose upon Lord Byron in a case of the kind; and
from the manner in which he uniformly expressed himself, I knew
his opinion was entirely formed, and that any disclamations of
mine would only have savoured of affectation. I do not mean to
insinuate that the incident did not happen, but only that it could
hardly have occurred exactly under the circumstances narrated,
without my recollecting something positive on the subject. In
another part of the same volume Lord Byron is reported to have
expressed a supposition that the cause of my not avowing myself
the Author of Waverley may have been some surmise that the
reigning family would have been displeased with the work. I can
only say, it is the last apprehension I should have entertained,
as indeed the inscription to these volumes sufficiently proves.
The sufferers of that melancholy period have, during the last and
present reign, been honoured both with the sympathy and protection
of the reigning family, whose magnanimity can well pardon a sigh
from others, and bestow one themselves, to the memory of brave
opponents, who did nothing in hate, but all in honour.

While those who were in habitual intercourse with the real author
had little hesitation in assigning the literary property to him,
others, and those critics of no mean rank, employed themselves in
investigating with persevering patience any characteristic
features which might seem to betray the origin of these Novels.
Amongst these, one gentleman, equally remarkable for the kind and
liberal tone of his criticism, the acuteness of his reasoning, and
the very gentlemanlike manner in which he conducted his inquiries,
displayed not only powers of accurate investigation, but a temper
of mind deserving to be employed on a subject of much greater
importance; and I have no doubt made converts to his opinion of
almost all who thought the point worthy of consideration.
[Footnote: Letters on the Author of Waverly; Rodwell and Martin,
London, 1822.] Of those letters, and other attempts of the same
kind, the Author could not complain, though his incognito was
endangered. He had challenged the public to a game at bo-peep, and
if he was discovered in his 'hiding-hole,' he must submit to the
shame of detection.

Various reports were of course circulated in various ways; some
founded on an inaccurate rehearsal of what may have been partly
real, some on circumstances having no concern whatever with the
subject, and others on the invention of some importunate persons,
who might perhaps imagine that the readiest mode of forcing the
Author to disclose himself was to assign some dishonourable and
discreditable cause for his silence.

It may be easily supposed that this sort of inquisition was
treated with contempt by the person whom it principally regarded;
as, among all the rumours that were current, there was only one,
and that as unfounded as the others, which had nevertheless some
alliance to probability, and indeed might have proved in some
degree true.

I allude to a report which ascribed a great part, or the whole, of
these Novels to the late Thomas Scott, Esq., of the 70th Regiment,
then stationed in Canada. Those who remember that gentleman will
readily grant that, with general talents at least equal to those
of his elder brother, he added a power of social humour and a deep
insight into human character which rendered him an universally
delightful member of society, and that the habit of composition
alone was wanting to render him equally successful as a writer.
The Author of Waverley was so persuaded of the truth of this, that
he warmly pressed his brother to make such an experiment, and
willingly undertook all the trouble of correcting and
superintending the press. Mr. Thomas Scott seemed at first very
well disposed to embrace the proposal, and had even fixed on a
subject and a hero. The latter was a person well known to both of
us in our boyish years, from having displayed some strong traits
of character. Mr. T. Scott had determined to represent his
youthful acquaintance as emigrating to America, and encountering
the dangers and hardships of the New World, with the same
dauntless spirit which he had displayed when a boy in his native
country. Mr. Scott would probably have been highly successful,
being familiarly acquainted with the manners of the native
Indians, of the old French settlers in Canada, and of the Brules
or Woodsmen, and having the power of observing with accuracy what
I have no doubt he could have sketched with force and expression.
In short, the Author believes his brother would have made himself
distinguished in that striking field in which, since that period,
Mr. Cooper has achieved so many triumphs. But Mr. T. Scott was
already affected by bad health, which wholly unfitted him for
literary labour, even if he could have reconciled his patience to
the task. He never, I believe, wrote a single line of the
projected work; and I only have the melancholy pleasure of
preserving in the Appendix [Footnote: See Appendix No. III.] the
simple anecdote on which he proposed to found it.

To this I may add, I can easily conceive that there may have been
circumstances which gave a colour to the general report of my
brother being interested in these works; and in particular that it
might derive strength from my having occasion to remit to him, in
consequence of certain family transactions, some considerable sums
of money about that period. To which it is to be added that if any
person chanced to evince particular curiosity on such a subject,
my brother was likely enough to divert himself with practising on
their credulity.

It may be mentioned that, while the paternity of these Novels was
from time to time warmly disputed in Britain, the foreign
booksellers expressed no hesitation on the matter, but affixed my
name to the whole of the Novels, and to some besides to which I
had no claim.

The volumes, therefore, to which the present pages form a Preface
are entirely the composition of the Author by whom they are now
acknowledged, with the exception, always, of avowed quotations,
and such unpremeditated and involuntary plagiarisms as can scarce
be guarded against by any one who has read and written a great
deal. The original manuscripts are all in existence, and entirely
written (horresco referens) in the Author's own hand, excepting
during the years 1818 and 1819, when, being affected with severe
illness, he was obliged to employ the assistance of a friendly
amanuensis.

The number of persons to whom the secret was necessarily
entrusted, or communicated by chance, amounted, I should think, to
twenty at least, to whom I am greatly obliged for the fidelity
with which they observed their trust, until the derangement of the
affairs of my publishers, Messrs. Constable and Co., and the
exposure of their account books, which was the necessary
consequence, rendered secrecy no longer possible. The particulars
attending the avowal have been laid before the public in the
Introduction to the Chronicles of the Canongate.

The preliminary advertisement has given a sketch of the purpose of
this edition. I have some reason to fear that the notes which
accompany the tales, as now published, may be thought too
miscellaneous and too egotistical. It maybe some apology for this,
that the publication was intended to be posthumous, and still
more, that old men may be permitted to speak long, because they
cannot in the course of nature have long time to speak. In
preparing the present edition, I have done all that I can do to
explain the nature of my materials, and the use I have made of
them; nor is it probable that I shall again revise or even read
these tales. I was therefore desirous rather to exceed in the
portion of new and explanatory matter which is added to this
edition than that the reader should have reason to complain that
the information communicated was of a general and merely nominal
character. It remains to be tried whether the public (like a child
to whom a watch is shown) will, after having been satiated with
looking at the outside, acquire some new interest in the object
when it is opened and the internal machinery displayed to them.

That Waverly and its successors have had their day of favour and
popularity must be admitted with sincere gratitude; and the Author
has studied (with the prudence of a beauty whose reign has been
rather long) to supply, by the assistance of art, the charms which
novelty no longer affords. The publishers have endeavoured to
gratify the honourable partiality of the public for the
encouragement of British art, by illustrating this edition with
designs by the most eminent living artists. [Footnote: The
illustrations here referred to were made for the edition of 1829]

To my distinguished countryman, David Wilkie, to Edwin Landseer,
who has exercised his talents so much on Scottish subjects and
scenery, to Messrs. Leslie and Newton, my thanks are due, from a
friend as well as an author. Nor am I less obliged to Messrs.
Cooper, Kidd, and other artists of distinction to whom I am less
personally known, for the ready zeal with which they have devoted
their talents to the same purpose.

Farther explanation respecting the Edition is the business of the
publishers, not of the Author; and here, therefore, the latter has
accomplished his task of introduction and explanation. If, like a
spoiled child, he has sometimes abused or trifled with the
indulgence of the public, he feels himself entitled to full belief
when he exculpates himself from the charge of having been at any
time insensible of their kindness.

ABBOTSFORD, 1st January, 1829.





WAVERLEY

OR 'T IS SIXTY YEARS SINCE

Under which King, Bezonian? speak, or die!

Henry IV, Part II.


INTRODUCTION


The plan of this edition leads me to insert in this place some
account of the incidents on which the Novel of Waverley is
founded. They have been already given to the public by my late
lamented friend, William Erskine, Esq. (afterwards Lord Kinneder),
when reviewing the Tales of My Landlord for the Quarterly Review
in 1817. The particulars were derived by the critic from the
Author's information. Afterwards they were published in the
Preface to the Chronicles of the Canongate. They are now inserted
in their proper place.

The mutual protection afforded by Waverley and Talbot to each
other, upon which the whole plot depends, is founded upon one of
those anecdotes which soften the features even of civil war; and,
as it is equally honourable to the memory of both parties, we have
no hesitation to give their names at length. When the Highlanders,
on the morning of the battle of Preston, 1745, made their
memorable attack on Sir John Cope's army, a battery of four field-
pieces was stormed and carried by the Camerons and the Stewarts of
Appine. The late Alexander Stewart of Invernahylewas one of the
foremost in the charge, and observing an officer of the King's
forces, who, scorning to join the flight of all around, remained
with his sword in his hand, as if determined to the very last to
defend the post assigned to him, the Highland gentleman commanded
him to surrender, and received for reply a thrust, which he caught
in his target. The officer was now defenceless, and the battle-axe
of a gigantic Highlander (the miller of Invernahyle's mill) was
uplifted to dash his brains out, when Mr. Stewart with difficulty
prevailed on him to yield. He took charge of his enemy's property,
protected his person, and finally obtained him liberty on his
parole. The officer proved to be Colonel Whitefoord, an Ayrshire
gentleman of high character and influence, and warmly attached to
the House of Hanover; yet such was the confidence existing between
these two honourable men, though of different political
principles, that, while the civil war was raging, and straggling
officers from the Highland army were executed without mercy,
Invernahyle hesitated not to pay his late captive a visit, as he
returned to the Highlands to raise fresh recruits, on which
occasion he spent a day or two in Ayrshire among Colonel
Whitefoord's Whig friends, as pleasantly and as good-humouredly as
if all had been at peace around him.

After the battle of Culloden had ruined the hopes of Charles
Edward and dispersed his proscribed adherents, it was Colonel
Whitefoord's turn to strain every nerve to obtain Mr. Stewart's
pardon. He went to the Lord Justice Clerk to the Lord Advocate,
and to all the officers of state, and each application was
answered by the production of a list in which Invernahyle (as the
good old gentleman was wont to express it) appeared 'marked with
the sign of the beast!' as a subject unfit for favour or pardon.

At length Colonel Whitefoord applied to the Duke of Cumberland in
person. From him, also, he received a positive refusal. He then
limited his request, for the present, to a protection for
Stewart's house, wife, children, and property. This was also
refused by the Duke; on which Colonel Whitefoord, taking his
commission from his bosom, laid it on the table before his Royal
Highness with much emotion, and asked permission to retire from
the service of a sovereign who did not know how to spare a
vanquished enemy. The Duke was struck, and even affected. He bade
the Colonel take up his commission, and granted the protection he
required. It was issued just in time to save the house, corn, and
cattle at Invernahyle from the troops, who were engaged in laying
waste what it was the fashion to call 'the country of the enemy.'
A small encampment of soldiers was formed on Invernahyle's
property, which they spared while plundering the country around,
and searching in every direction for the leaders of the
insurrection, and for Stewart in particular. He was much nearer
them than they suspected; for, hidden in a cave (like the Baron of
Bradwardine), he lay for many days so near the English sentinels
that he could hear their muster-roll called. His food was brought
to him by one of his daughters, a child of eight years old, whom
Mrs. Stewart was under the necessity of entrusting with this
commission; for her own motions, and those of all her elder
inmates, were closely watched. With ingenuity beyond her years,
the child used to stray about among the soldiers, who were rather
kind to her, and thus seize the moment when she was unobserved and
steal into the thicket, when she deposited whatever small store of
provisions she had in charge at some marked spot, where her father
might find it. Invernahyle supported life for several weeks by
means of these precarious supplies; and, as he had been wounded in
the battle of Culloden, the hardships which he endured were
aggravated by great bodily pain. After the soldiers had removed
their quarters he had another remarkable escape.

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