Illness and Death of John Ballantyne. -- Extract from his
Pocketbook. -- Letters from Blair-Adam. -- Castle-Campbell. --
Sir Samuel Shepherd. -- "Bailie Mackay," Etc. -- Coronation of
George IV. -- Correspondence with James Hogg and Lord Sidmouth.
-- Letter on the Coronation. -- Anecdotes. -- Allan Cunningham's
Memoranda. -- Completion of Chantrey's Bust.
1821
On the 4th of June, Scott, being then on one of his short Sessional
visits to Abbotsford, received the painful intelligence that his
friend John Ballantyne's maladies had begun to assume an aspect of
serious and even immediate danger. The elder brother made the
communication in these terms:--
TO SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART., OF ABBOTSFORD, MELROSE.
EDINBURGH, Sunday, 3d June, 1821.
DEAR SIR,--I have this morning had a most heart-breaking letter
from poor John, from which the following is an extract. You will
judge how it has affected me, who, with all his peculiarities of
temper, love him very much. He says,--
"A spitting of blood has commenced, and you may guess the
situation into which I am plunged. We are all accustomed to
consider death as certainly inevitable; but his obvious approach
is assuredly the most detestable and abhorrent feeling to which
human nature can be subject."
This is truly doleful. There is something in it more absolutely
bitter to my heart than what I have otherwise suffered. I look
back to my mother's peaceful rest, and to my infant's
blessedness--if life be not the extinguishable worthless spark
which I cannot think it--but here, cut off in the very middle of
life, with good means and strong powers of enjoying it, and
nothing but reluctance and repining at the close--I say the truth
when I say that I would joyfully part with my right arm to avert
the approaching result. Pardon this, dear sir; my heart and soul
are heavy within me.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
With the deepest respect and gratitude,
J. B.
At the date of this letter, the invalid was in Roxburghshire; but he
came to Edinburgh a day or two afterwards, and died there on the 16th
of the same month. I accompanied Sir Walter when one of their last
interviews took place, and John's deathbed was a thing not to be
forgotten. We sat by him for perhaps an hour, and I think half that
space was occupied with his predictions of a speedy end, and details
of his last will, which he had just been executing, and which lay on
his coverlid; the other half being given, five minutes or so at a
time, to questions and remarks, which intimated that the hope of life
was still flickering before him--nay, that his interest in all its
concerns remained eager. The proof sheets of a volume of his
Novelists' Library lay also by his pillow; and he passed from them to
his will, and then back to them, as by jerks and starts the unwonted
veil of gloom closed upon his imagination, or was withdrawn again. He
had, as he said, left his great friend and patron L2000 towards the
completion of the new library at Abbotsford,--and the spirit of the
auctioneer virtuoso flashed up as he began to describe what would, he
thought, be the best style and arrangement of the bookshelves. He was
interrupted by an agony of asthma, which left him with hardly any
signs of life; and ultimately he did expire in a fit of the same kind.
Scott was visibly and profoundly shaken by this scene and its sequel.
As we stood together a few days afterwards, while they were smoothing
the turf over John's remains in the Canongate Churchyard, the heavens,
which had been dark and slaty, cleared up suddenly, and the midsummer
sun shone forth in his strength. Scott, ever awake to the "skiey
influences," cast his eye along the overhanging line of the Calton
Hill, with its gleaming walls and towers, and then turning to the
grave again, "I feel," he whispered in my ear, "I feel as if there
would be less sunshine for me from this day forth."
As we walked homewards, Scott told me, among other favorable traits of
his friend, one little story which I must not omit. He remarked one
day to a poor student of divinity attending his auction, that he
looked as if he were in bad health. The young man assented with a
sigh. "Come," said Ballantyne, "I think I ken the secret of a sort of
draft that would relieve you--particularly," he added, handing him a
cheque for L5 or L10--"particularly, my dear, if taken upon an empty
stomach."
John died in his elder brother's house in St. John Street; a
circumstance which it gives me pleasure to record, as it confirms the
impression of their affectionate feelings towards each other at this
time, which the reader must have derived from James's letter to Scott
last quoted. Their confidence and cordiality had undergone
considerable interruption in the latter part of John's life; but the
close was in all respects fraternal.
A year and a half before John's exit,--namely, on the last day of
1819,--he happened to lay his hand on an old pocketbook, which roused
his reflections, and he filled two or three of its pages with a brief
summary of the most active part of his life, which I think it due to
his character, as well as Sir Walter Scott's, to transcribe in this
place.
"31st Dec., 1819. In moving a bed from the fireplace to-day
upstairs, I found an old memorandum-book, which enables me to
trace the following recollections of _this day_, the last of the
year.
"1801. A shopkeeper in Kelso; at this period my difficulties had
not begun in business; was well, happy, and 27 years old; new
then in a connection which afterwards gave me great pain, but can
never be forgotten.
"1802. 28 old: In Kelso as before--could scarcely be
happier--hunted, shot, kept ****'s company, and neglected
business, the fruits whereof I soon found.
"1803. 29: Still fortunate, and happy from same cause. James in
Edinburgh thriving as a printer. When I was ennuied at home,
visited him. Business neglected every way.
"1804. 30: Material change; getting into difficulties; all wrong,
and changes in every way approaching.
"1805. 31: All consummated; health miserable all summer and ****
designated in an erased mem., _the scoundrel_. I yet recollect
the cause--can I ever forget it? My furniture, goods, etc., sold
at Kelso, previous to my going to Edinburgh to become my
brother's clerk; whither I _did_ go, for which God be praised
eternally, on Friday, 3d January, 1806, on L200 a year. My
effects at Kelso, with labor, paid my debts, and left me
penniless.
"From this period till 1808. 34: I continued in this
situation--then the scheme of a bookselling concern in Hanover
Street was adopted, which I was to manage; it was L300 a year,
and one fourth of the profits besides.
"1809. 35: Already the business in Hanover Street getting into
difficulty, from our ignorance of its nature, and most
extravagant and foolish advances from its funds to the printing
concern. I ought to have resisted this, but I was thoughtless,
although not young, or rather reckless, and lived on as long as I
could make ends meet.
"1810. 36: Bills increasing--the destructive system of
accommodations adopted.
"1811. 37: Bills increased to a most fearful degree. Sir Wm.
Forbes and Co. shut their account. No bank would discount with
us, and everything leading to irretrievable failure.
"1812. 38: The first partner stepped in, at a crisis so
tremendous, that it shakes my soul to think of it. By the most
consummate wisdom, and resolution, and unheard-of exertions, he
put things in a train that finally (so early as 1817) paid even
himself (who ultimately became the sole creditor of the house)
_in full_, with a balance of a thousand pounds.
"1813. 39: In business as a literary auctioneer in Prince's
Street; from which period to the present I have got gradually
forward, both in that line and as third of a partner of the works
of the Author of Waverley, so that I am now, at 45, worth about
(I owe L2000) L5000, with, however, alas, many changes--my strong
constitution much broken; my father and mother dead, and James
estranged--the chief enjoyment and glory of my life being the
possession of the friendship and confidence of the greatest of
men."
In communicating John's death to the Cornet, Sir Walter says: "I have
had a very great loss in poor John Ballantyne, who is gone, after a
long illness. He persisted to the very last in endeavoring to take
exercise, in which he was often imprudent, and was up and dressed the
very morning before his death. In his will the grateful creature has
left me a legacy of L2000, life-rented, however, by his wife; and the
rest of his little fortune goes betwixt his two brothers. I shall miss
him very much, both in business, and as an easy and lively companion,
who was eternally active and obliging in whatever I had to do."
I am sorry to take leave of John Ballantyne with the remark, that his
last will was a document of the same class with too many of his
_states_ and _calendars_. So far from having L2000 to bequeath to Sir
Walter, he died as he had lived, ignorant of the situation of his
affairs, and deep in debt.[126]
[Footnote 126: No specimen of John's inaccuracy as to
business-statements could be pointed out more extraordinary than his
assertion in the above sketch of his career, that the bookselling
concern, of which he had had the management, was finally wound up with
a balance of L1000 in favor of the first partner. At the time he
refers to (1817), John's name was on floating bills to the extent of
at least L10,000, representing _part_ of the debt which had been
accumulated on the bookselling house, and which, on its dissolution,
was assumed by the printing company in the Canongate.--(1839.)]
The two following letters, written at Blair-Adam, where the Club
were, as usual, assembled for the dog-days, have been selected from
among several which Scott at this time addressed to his friends in the
South, with the view of promoting Mr. Mackay's success in his _debut_
on the London boards as Bailie Jarvie.
TO MISS JOANNA BAILLIE, HAMPSTEAD.
The immediate motive of my writing to you, my dearest friend, is
to make Mrs. Agnes and you aware that a Scots performer, called
Mackay, is going up to London to play Bailie Nicol Jarvie for a
single night at Covent Garden, and to beg you of all dear loves
to go and see him; for, taking him in that single character, I am
not sure I ever saw anything in my life possessing so much truth
and comic effect at the same time: he is completely the personage
of the drama, the purse-proud consequential magistrate, humane
and irritable in the same moment, and the true Scotsman in every
turn of thought and action; his variety of feelings towards Rob
Roy, whom he likes, and fears, and despises, and admires, and
pities all at once, is exceedingly well expressed. In short, I
never saw a part better sustained, certainly; I pray you to
collect a party of Scotch friends to see it. I have written to
Sotheby to the same purpose, but I doubt whether the exhibition
will prove as satisfactory to those who do not know the original
from which the resemblance is taken. I observe the English demand
(as is natural) broad caricature in the depicting of national
peculiarities: they did so as to the Irish till Jack Johnstone
taught them better, and at first I should fear Mackay's reality
will seem less ludicrous than Liston's humorous extravagances. So
let it not be said that a dramatic genius of Scotland wanted the
countenance and protection of Joanna Baillie: the Doctor and Mrs.
Baillie will be much diverted if they go also, but somebody said
to me that they were out of town. The man, I am told, is
perfectly respectable in his life and habits, and consequently
deserves encouragement every way. There is a great difference
betwixt his _bailie_ and all his other performances: one would
think the part made for him, and him for the part--and yet I may
do the poor fellow injustice, and what we here consider as a
falling off may arise from our identifying Mackay so completely
with the worthy Glasgow magistrate, that recollections of Nicol
Jarvie intrude upon us at every corner, and mar the
personification of any other part which he may represent for the
time.
I am here for a couple of days with our Chief-Commissioner, late
Willie Adam, and we had yesterday a delightful stroll to
Castle-Campbell, the Rumbling Brig, Cauldron Linns, etc. The
scenes are most romantic, and I know not by what fatality it has
been, that living within a step of them, I never visited any of
them before. We had Sir Samuel Shepherd with us, a most
delightful person, but with too much English fidgetiness about
him for crags and precipices,--perpetually afraid that rocks
would give way under his weight which had over-brow'd the torrent
for ages, and that good well-rooted trees, moored so as to resist
ten thousand tempests, would fall because he grasped one of their
branches; he must certainly be a firm believer in the simile of
the lover of your native land, who complains,--
"I leant my back unto an aik,
I thought it was a trusty tree,
But first it bow'd and then it brake," etc., etc., etc.[127]
Certes these Southrons lack much the habits of the wood and
wilderness,--for here is a man of taste and genius, a fine
scholar and a most interesting companion, haunted with fears that
would be entertained by no shopkeeper from the Luckenbooths or
the Saut Market. A sort of _Cockneyism_ of one kind or another
pervades their men of professional habits, whereas every
Scotchman, with very few exceptions, holds country exercises of
all kinds to be part of his nature, and is ready to become a
traveller, or even a soldier on the slightest possible notice.
The habits of the moorfowl shooting, salmon-fishing, and so
forth, may keep this much up among the gentry, a name which our
pride and pedigree extend so much wider than in England; and it
is worth notice that these amusements, being cheap and tolerably
easy come at by all the petty dunniewassals, have a more general
influence on the national character than fox-hunting, which is
confined to those who can mount and keep a horse worth at least
100 guineas. But still this hardly explains the general and wide
difference betwixt the countries in this particular. Happen how
it will, the advantage is much in favor of Scotland: it is true
that it contributes to prevent our producing such very
accomplished lawyers, divines, or artisans[128] as when the whole
mind is bent with undivided attention upon attaining one branch
of knowledge,--but it gives a strong and muscular character to
the people in general, and saves men from all sorts of causeless
fears and flutterings of the heart, which give quite as much
misery as if there were real cause for entertaining apprehension.
This is not furiously to the purpose of my letter, which, after
recommending Monsieur Mackay, was to tell you that we are all
well and happy. Sophia is getting stout and pretty, and is one of
the wisest and most important little mammas that can be seen
anywhere. Her bower is _bigged in gude green wood_, and we went
last Saturday in a body to enjoy it, and to consult about
furniture; and we have got the road stopt which led up the hill,
so it is now quite solitary and approached through a grove of
trees, actual well-grown trees, not Lilliputian forests like
those of Abbotsford. The season is dreadfully backward. Our ashes
and oaks are not yet in leaf, and will not be, I think, in
anything like full foliage this year, such is the rigor of the
east winds.--Always, my dear and much respected friend, most
affectionately yours,
W. SCOTT.
BLAIR-ADAM, 11 June, 1821,
In full sight of Lochleven.
P. S.--Pray read, or have read to you by Mrs. Agnes, The Annals
of the Parish. Mr. Galt wrote the worst tragedies ever seen, and
has now written a most excellent novel, if it can be called so.
[Footnote 127: Ballad of the Marchioness of Douglas, "O waly, waly, up
yon bank!" etc.]
[Footnote 128: The great engineer, James Watt, of Birmingham--in whose
talk Scott took much delight--told him, that though hundreds probably
of his northern countrymen had sought employment at his establishment,
he never could get one of them to become a first-rate artisan. "Many
of them," said he, "were too good for that, and rose to be valuable
clerks and book-keepers; but those incapable of this sort of
advancement had always the same insuperable aversion to toiling so
long at any one point of mechanism as to gain the highest wages among
the workmen." I have no doubt Sir Walter was thinking of Mr. Watt's
remark when he wrote the sentence in the text.]
TO THE LORD MONTAGU, ETC., ETC., LONDON.
BLAIR-ADAM, June 11, 1821.
MY DEAR LORD,--There is a man going up from Edinburgh to play one
night at Covent Garden, whom, as having the very unusual power of
presenting on the stage a complete Scotsman, I am very desirous
you should see. He plays Bailie Nicol Jarvie in Rob Roy, but with
a degree of national truth and understanding, which makes the
part equal to anything I have ever seen on the stage, and I have
seen all the best comedians for these forty years. I wish much,
if you continue in town till he comes up, that you would get into
some private box and take a look of him. Sincerely, it is a real
treat--the English will not enjoy it, for it is not broad enough,
or sufficiently caricatured for their apprehensions, but to a
Scotsman it is inimitable, and you have the Glasgow Bailie before
you, with all his bustling conceit and importance, his real
benevolence, and his irritable habits. He will want in London a
fellow who, in the character of the Highland turnkey, held the
backhand to him admirably well. I know how difficult it is for
folks of condition to get to the theatre, but this is worth an
exertion,--and, besides, the poor man (who I understand is very
respectable in private life) will be, to use an admirable simile
(by which one of your father's farmers persuaded the Duke to go
to hear his son, a probationer in divinity, preach his first
sermon in the town of Ayr), _like a cow in a fremd loaning_, and
glad of Scots countenance.
I am glad the Duke's cold is better--his stomach will not be put
to those trials which ours underwent in our youth, when deep
drinking was the fashion. I hope he will always be aware,
however, that his is not a strong one.
Campbell's Lives of the Admirals is an admirable book, and I
would advise your Lordship e'en to redeem your pledge to the Duke
on some rainy day. You do not run the risk from the perusal which
my poor mother apprehended. She always alleged it sent her eldest
son to the navy, and did not see with indifference any of her
younger olive branches engaged with Campbell except myself, who
stood in no danger of the cockpit or quarterdeck. I would not
swear for Lord John though. Your Lordship's tutor was just such a
well-meaning person as mine, who used to take from me old Lindsay
of Pitscottie, and set me down to get by heart Rollin's infernal
list of the Shepherd Kings, whose hard names could have done no
good to any one on earth, unless he had wished to raise the
devil, and lacked language to conjure with.--Always, my dear
Lord, most truly yours,
WALTER SCOTT.
The coronation of George IV., preparations for which were (as has been
seen) in active progress by March, 1820, had been deferred, in
consequence of the unhappy affair of the Queen's Trial. The 19th of
July, 1821, was now announced for this solemnity, and Sir Walter
resolved to be among the spectators. It occurred to him that if the
Ettrick Shepherd were to accompany him, and produce some memorial of
the scene likely to catch the popular ear in Scotland, good service
might thus be done to the cause of loyalty. But this was not his only
consideration. Hogg had married a handsome and most estimable young
woman, a good deal above his own original rank in life, the year
before; and expecting with her a dowry of L1000, he had forthwith
revived the grand ambition of an earlier day, and become a candidate
for an extensive farm on the Buccleuch estate, at a short distance
from Altrive Lake. Various friends, supposing his worldly
circumstances to be much improved, had supported his application, and
Lord Montagu had received it in a manner for which the Shepherd's
letters to Scott express much gratitude. Misfortune pursued the
Shepherd--the unforeseen bankruptcy of his wife's father interrupted
the stocking of the sheep-walk; and the arable part of the new
possession was sadly mismanaged by himself. Scott hoped that a visit
to London, and a coronation poem, or pamphlet, might end in some
pension or post that would relieve these difficulties, and he wrote to
Hogg, urging him to come to Edinburgh, and embark with him for the
great city. Not doubting that this proposal would be eagerly accepted,
he, when writing to Lord Sidmouth, to ask a place for himself in the
Hall and Abbey of Westminster, mentioned that Hogg was to be his
companion, and begged suitable accommodation for him also. Lord
Sidmouth, being overwhelmed with business connected with the
approaching pageant, answered by the pen of the Under-Secretary of
State, Mr. Hobhouse, that Sir Walter's wishes, both as to himself and
the Shepherd, should be gratified, _provided_ they would both dine
with him the day after the coronation, in Richmond Park, "where," says
the letter before me, "his Lordship will invite the Duke of York and a
few other Jacobites to meet you." All this being made known to the
tenant of Mount-Benger, he wrote to Scott, as he says, "with the tear
in his eye," to signify, that if he went to London he must miss
attending the great annual Border fair, held on St. Boswell's Green,
in Roxburghshire, on the 18th of every July; and that his absence from
that meeting so soon after entering upon business as a store-farmer,
would be considered by his new compeers as highly imprudent and
discreditable. "In short," James concludes, "the thing is impossible.
But as there is no man in his Majesty's dominions admires his great
talents for government, and the energy and dignity of his
administration, so much as I do, I will write something at home, and
endeavor to give it you before you start." The Shepherd probably
expected that these pretty compliments would reach the royal ear; but
however that may have been, his own Muse turned a deaf ear to him--at
least I never heard of anything that he wrote on this occasion.
Scott embarked without him, on board a new steamship called The City
of Edinburgh, which, as he suggested to the master, ought rather to
have been christened The New Reekie. This vessel was that described
and lauded in the following letter:--
TO THE LORD MONTAGU, ETC., ETC.
EDINBURGH, July 1, 1821.
MY DEAR LORD,--I write just now to thank you for your letter. I
have been on board the steamship, and am so delighted with it,
that I think I shall put myself aboard for the coronation. It
runs at nine knots an hour (_me ipso teste_) against wind and
tide, with a deck as long as a frigate's to walk upon, and to
sleep on also, if you like, as I have always preferred a cloak
and a mattress to these crowded cabins. This reconciles the speed
and certainty of the mail-coach with the ease and convenience of
being on shipboard. So I really think I will run up to see the
grandee show, and run down again. I scorn to mention economy,
though the expense is not one fifth, and that is something in
hard times, especially to me, who, to choose, would always rather
travel in a public conveyance, than with my domestic's good
company in a po-chay.
But now comes the news of news. I have been instigating the great
Caledonian Boar, James Hogg, to undertake a similar trip--with
the view of turning an honest penny, to help out his stocking, by
writing some sort of Shepherd's Letters, or the like, to put the
honest Scots bodies up to this whole affair. I am trying with
Lord Sidmouth to get him a place among the newspaper gentry to
see the ceremony. It is seriously worth while to get such a
popular view of the whole as he will probably hit off.
I have another view for this poor fellow. You have heard of the
Royal Literary Society, and how they propose to distribute solid
pudding, _alias_ pensions, to men of genius. It is, I think, a
very problematical matter, whether it will do the good which is
intended; but if they do mean to select worthy objects of
encouragement, I really know nobody that has a better or an equal
claim to poor Hogg. Our friend Villiers takes a great charge of
this matter, and good-naturedly forgave my stating to him a
number of objections to the first concoction, which was to have
been something resembling the French Academy. It has now been
much modified. Perhaps there may be some means fallen upon, with
your Lordship's assistance, of placing Hogg under Mr. Villiers's
view. I would have done so myself, but only I have battled the
point against the whole establishment so keenly, that it would be
too bad to bring forward a protege of my own to take advantage of
it. They intended at one time to give pensions of about L100 a
year to thirty persons. I know not where they could find half a
dozen with such pretensions as the Shepherd's.
There will be risk of his being lost in London, or kidnapped by
some of those ladies who open literary _menageries_ for the
reception of _lions_. I should like to see him at a rout of
blue-stockings. I intend to recommend him to the protection of
John Murray the bookseller; and I hope he will come equipped with
plaid, kent, and colley.[129]
I wish to heaven Lord Melville would either keep the Admiralty,
or in Hogg's phrase,--
"O I would eagerly press him
The keys of the _east_ to require,"--
for truly the Board of Control is the Corn Chest for Scotland,
where we poor gentry must send our younger sons, as we send our
black cattle to the south.--Ever most truly yours,
WALTER SCOTT.
[Footnote 129: _Kent_ is the shepherd's staff--_Colley_ his dog. Scott
alludes to the old song of the _Lea Rig_,--
"Nae herds wi' kent and colley there," etc.]
From London, on the day after the coronation, Sir Walter addressed a
letter descriptive of the ceremonial to his friend James Ballantyne,
who published it in his newspaper. It has been since reprinted--but
not in any collection of Scott's own writings; and I therefore insert
it here. It will probably possess considerable interest for the
student of English history and manners in future times; for the
coronation of George the Fourth's successor was conducted on a vastly
inferior scale of splendor and expense--and the precedent of
curtailment in any such matters is now seldom neglected.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE EDINBURGH WEEKLY JOURNAL.
LONDON, July 20, 1821.
SIR,--I refer you to the daily papers for the details of the
great National Solemnity which we witnessed yesterday, and will
hold my promise absolved by sending a few general remarks upon
what I saw with surprise amounting to astonishment, and which I
shall never forget. It is, indeed, impossible to conceive a
ceremony more august and imposing in all its parts, and more
calculated to make the deepest impression both on the eye and on
the feelings. The most minute attention must have been bestowed
to arrange all the subordinate parts in harmony with the rest; so
that, amongst so much antiquated ceremonial, imposing singular
dresses, duties, and characters, upon persons accustomed to move
in the ordinary routine of society, nothing occurred either
awkward or ludicrous which could mar the general effect of the
solemnity. Considering that it is but one step from the sublime
to the ridiculous, I own I consider it as surprising that the
whole ceremonial of the day should have passed away without the
slightest circumstance which could derange the general tone of
solemn feeling which was suited to the occasion.
You must have heard a full account of the only disagreeable event
of the day. I mean the attempt of the misguided lady, who has
lately furnished so many topics of discussion, to intrude herself
upon a ceremonial, where, not being in her proper place, to be
present in any other must have been voluntary degradation. That
matter is a fire of straw which has now burnt to the very embers,
and those who try to blow it into life again will only blacken
their hands and noses, like mischievous children dabbling among
the ashes of a bonfire. It seems singular, that being determined
to be present at all hazards, this unfortunate personage should
not have procured a Peer's ticket, which, I presume, would have
insured her admittance. I willingly pass to pleasanter matters.
The effect of the scene in the Abbey was beyond measure
magnificent. Imagine long galleries stretched among the aisles of
that venerable and august pile--those which rise above the altar
pealing back their echoes to a full and magnificent choir of
music--those which occupied the sides filled even to crowding
with all that Britain has of beautiful and distinguished, and the
cross-gallery most appropriately occupied by the Westminster
schoolboys, in their white surplices, many of whom might on that
day receive impressions never to be lost during the rest of their
lives. Imagine this, I say, and then add the spectacle upon the
floor,--the altar surrounded by the Fathers of the Church, the
King encircled by the Nobility of the land and the Counsellors of
his throne, and by warriors wearing the honored marks of
distinction bought by many a glorious danger;--add to this the
rich spectacle of the aisles crowded with waving plumage, and
coronets, and caps of honor, and the sun, which brightened and
saddened as if on purpose, now beaming in full lustre on the rich
and varied assemblage, and now darting a solitary ray, which
catched, as it passed, the glittering folds of a banner, or the
edge of a group of battle-axes or partizans, and then rested full
on some fair form, "the cynosure of neighboring eyes," whose
circlet of diamonds glistened under its influence. Imagine all
this, and then tell me if I have made my journey of four hundred
miles to little purpose. I do not love your _cui bono_ men, and
therefore I will not be pleased if you ask me in the damping tone
of sullen philosophy, what good all this has done the spectators.
If we restrict life to its real animal wants and necessities, we
shall indeed be satisfied with "food, clothes, and fire;" but
Divine Providence, who widened our sources of enjoyment beyond
those of the animal creation, never meant that we should bound
our wishes within such narrow limits; and I shrewdly suspect that
those _non est tanti_ gentlefolks only depreciate the natural and
unaffected pleasure which men like me receive from sights of
splendor and sounds of harmony, either because they would seem
wiser than their simple neighbors at the expense of being less
happy, or because the mere pleasure of the sight and sound is
connected with associations of a deeper kind, to which they are
unwilling to yield themselves.
Leaving these gentlemen to enjoy their own wisdom, I still more
pity those, if there be any, who (being unable to detect a peg on
which to hang a laugh) sneer coldly at this solemn festival, and
are rather disposed to dwell on the expense which attends it,
than on the generous feelings which it ought to awaken. The
expense, so far as it is national, has gone directly and
instantly to the encouragement of the British manufacturer and
mechanic; and so far as it is personal to the persons of rank
attendant upon the Coronation, it operates as a tax upon wealth
and consideration for the benefit of poverty and industry; a tax
willingly paid by the one class, and not the less acceptable to
the other because it adds a happy holiday to the monotony of a
life of labor.
But there were better things to reward my pilgrimage than the
mere pleasures of the eye and ear; for it was impossible, without
the deepest veneration, to behold the voluntary and solemn
interchange of vows betwixt the King and his assembled People,
whilst he, on the one hand, called God Almighty to witness his
resolution to maintain their laws and privileges, whilst they
called, at the same moment, on the Divine Being, to bear witness
that they accepted him for their liege Sovereign, and pledged to
him their love and their duty. I cannot describe to you the
effect produced by the solemn, yet strange mixture of the words
of Scripture, with the shouts and acclamations of the assembled
multitude, as they answered to the voice of the Prelate, who
demanded of them whether they acknowledged as their Monarch the
Prince who claimed the sovereignty in their presence. It was
peculiarly delightful to see the King receive from the royal
brethren, but in particular from the Duke of York, the fraternal
kiss in which they acknowledged their sovereign. There was an
honest tenderness, an affectionate and sincere reverence in the
embrace interchanged betwixt the Duke of York and his Majesty,
that approached almost to a caress, and impressed all present
with the electrical conviction, that the nearest to the throne in
blood was the nearest also in affection. I never heard plaudits
given more from the heart than those that were thundered upon the
royal brethren when they were thus pressed to each other's
bosoms,--it was an emotion of natural kindness, which, bursting
out amidst ceremonial grandeur, found an answer in every British
bosom. The King seemed much affected at this and one or two other
parts of the ceremonial, even so much so as to excite some alarm
among those who saw him as nearly as I did. He completely
recovered himself, however, and bore (generally speaking) the
fatigue of the day very well. I learn from one near his person,
that he roused himself with great energy, even when most
oppressed with heat and fatigue, when any of the more interesting
parts of the ceremony were to be performed, or when anything
occurred which excited his personal and immediate attention. When
presiding at the banquet, amid the long line of his Nobles, he
looked "every inch a King;" and nothing could exceed the grace
with which he accepted and returned the various acts of homage
rendered to him in the course of that long day.
It was also a very gratifying spectacle to those who think like
me, to behold the Duke of Devonshire and most of the
distinguished Whig nobility assembled round the throne on this
occasion; giving an open testimony that the differences of
political opinions are only skin-deep wounds, which assume at
times an angry appearance, but have no real effect on the
wholesome constitution of the country.
If you ask me to distinguish who bore him best, and appeared most
to sustain the character we annex to the assistants in such a
solemnity, I have no hesitation to name Lord Londonderry, who, in
the magnificent robes of the Garter, with the cap and high plume
of the order, walked alone, and by his fine face and majestic
person formed an adequate representative of the order of Edward
III., the costume of which was worn by his Lordship only. The
Duke of Wellington, with all his laurels, moved and looked
deserving the baton, which was never grasped by so worthy a hand.
The Marquis of Anglesea showed the most exquisite grace in
managing his horse, notwithstanding the want of his limb, which
he left at Waterloo. I never saw so fine a bridle-hand in my
life, and I am rather a judge of "noble horsemanship." Lord
Howard's horse was worse bitted than those of the two former
noblemen, but not so much so as to derange the ceremony of
retiring back out of the Hall.
The Champion was performed (as of right) by young Dymocke, a
fine-looking youth, but bearing, perhaps, a little too much the
appearance of a maiden-knight to be the challenger of the world
in a King's behalf. He threw down his gauntlet, however, with
becoming manhood, and showed as much horsemanship as the crowd of
knights and squires around him would permit to be exhibited. His
armor was in good taste, but his shield was out of all propriety,
being a round _rondache_, or Highland target, a defensive weapon
which it would have been impossible to use on horseback, instead
of being a three-corner'd, or _heater-shield_, which in time of
the tilt was suspended round the neck. Pardon this antiquarian
scruple, which, you may believe, occurred to few but myself. On
the whole, this striking part of the exhibition somewhat
disappointed me, for I would have had the Champion less
embarrassed by his assistants, and at liberty to put his horse on
the _grand pas_. And yet the young Lord of Scrivelsbaye looked
and behaved extremely well.
Returning to the subject of costume, I could not but admire what
I had previously been disposed much to criticise,--I mean the
fancy dress of the Privy-Councillors, which was of white and blue
satin, with trunk-hose and mantles, after the fashion of Queen
Elizabeth's time. Separately, so gay a garb had an odd effect on
the persons of elderly or ill-made men; but when the whole was
thrown into one general body, all these discrepancies
disappeared, and you no more observed the particular manner or
appearance of an individual, than you do that of a soldier in the
battalion which marches past you. The whole was so completely
harmonized in actual coloring, as well as in association, with
the general mass of gay and gorgeous and antique dress which
floated before the eye, that it was next to impossible to attend
to the effect of individual figures. Yet a Scotsman will detect a
Scotsman amongst the most crowded assemblage, and I must say that
the Lord Justice-Clerk of Scotland[130] showed to as great
advantage in his robes of Privy-Councillor, as any by whom that
splendid dress was worn on this great occasion. The common
Court-dress used by the Privy-Councillors at the last coronation
must have had a poor effect in comparison of the present, which
formed a gradation in the scale of gorgeous ornament, from the
unwieldy splendor of the heralds, who glowed like huge masses of
cloth of gold and silver, to the more chastened robes and ermine
of the Peers. I must not forget the effect produced by the Peers
placing their coronets on their heads, which was really august.
The box assigned to the foreign Ambassadors presented a most
brilliant effect, and was perfectly in a blaze with diamonds.
When the sunshine lighted on Prince Esterhazy, in particular, he
glimmered like a galaxy. I cannot learn positively if he had on
that renowned coat which has visited all the courts of Europe
save ours, and is said to be worth L100,000, or some such trifle,
and which costs the Prince L100 or two every time he puts it on,
as he is sure to lose pearls to that amount. This was a hussar
dress, but splendid in the last degree; perhaps too fine for good
taste--at least it would have appeared so anywhere else. Beside
the Prince sat a good-humored lass, who seemed all eyes and ears
(his daughter-in-law, I believe), who wore as many diamonds as if
they had been Bristol stones. An honest Persian was also a
remarkable figure, from the dogged and imperturbable gravity with
which he looked on the whole scene, without ever moving a limb or
a muscle during the space of four hours. Like Sir Wilful Witwoud,
I cannot find that your Persian is orthodox; for if he scorned
everything else, there was a Mahometan paradise extended on his
right hand along the seats which were occupied by the peeresses
and their daughters, which the Prophet himself might have looked
on with emotion. I have seldom seen so many elegant and beautiful
girls as sat mingled among the noble matronage of the land; and
the waving plumage of feathers, which made the universal
head-dress, had the most appropriate effect in setting off their
charms.
I must not omit that the foreigners, who are apt to consider us
as a nation _en frac_, and without the usual ceremonials of dress
and distinction, were utterly astonished and delighted to see the
revival of feudal dresses and feudal grandeur when the occasion
demanded it, and that in a degree of splendor which they averred
they had never seen paralleled in Europe.
The duties of service at the Banquet, and of attendance in
general, were performed by pages drest very elegantly in Henri
Quatre coats of scarlet, with gold lace, blue sashes, white silk
hose, and white rosettes. There were also marshal's-men for
keeping order, who wore a similar dress, but of blue, and having
white sashes. Both departments were filled up almost entirely by
young gentlemen, many of them of the very first condition, who
took these menial characters to gain admission to the show. When
I saw many of my young acquaintance thus attending upon their
fathers and kinsmen, the Peers, Knights, and so forth, I could
not help thinking of Crabbe's lines, with a little alteration:--
'T was schooling pride to see the menial wait,
Smile on his father, and receive his plate.
It must be owned, however, that they proved but indifferent
valets, and were very apt, like the clown in the pantomime, to
eat the cheer they should have handed to their masters, and to
play other _tours de page_, which reminded me of the caution of
our proverb "not to man yourself with your kin." The Peers, for
example, had only a cold collation, while the Aldermen of London
feasted on venison and turtle; and similar errors necessarily
befell others in the confusion of the evening. But these slight
mistakes, which indeed were not known till afterwards, had not
the slightest effect on the general grandeur of the scene.
I did not see the procession between the Abbey and Hall. In the
morning a few voices called _Queen! Queen!_ as Lord Londonderry
passed, and even when the Sovereign appeared. But these were only
signals for the loud and reiterated acclamations in which these
tones of discontent were completely drowned. In the return, no
one dissonant voice intimated the least dissent from the shouts
of gratulation which poured from every quarter; and certainly
never Monarch received a more general welcome from his assembled
subjects.
You will have from others full accounts of the variety of
entertainments provided for John Bull in the Parks, the River, in
the Theatres, and elsewhere. Nothing was to be seen or heard but
sounds of pleasure and festivity; and whoever saw the scene at
any one spot, was convinced that the whole population was
assembled there, while others found a similar concourse of
revellers in every different point. It is computed that about
_five hundred thousand people_ shared in the Festival in one way
or another; and you may imagine the excellent disposition by
which the people were animated, when I tell you, that, excepting
a few windows broken by a small bodyguard of ragamuffins, who
were in immediate attendance on the Great Lady in the morning,
not the slightest political violence occurred to disturb the
general harmony--and that the assembled populace seemed to be
universally actuated by the spirit of the day--loyalty, namely,
and good-humor. Nothing occurred to damp those happy
dispositions; the weather was most propitious, and the
arrangements so perfect, that no accident of any kind is reported
as having taken place.--And so concluded the coronation of GEORGE
IV., whom GOD long preserve. Those who witnessed it have seen a
scene calculated to raise the country in their opinion, and to
throw into the shade all scenes of similar magnificence, from the
Field of the Cloth of Gold down to the present day. I remain,
your obedient servant,
AN EYE-WITNESS.
[Footnote 130: Scott's schoolfellow, the Right Hon. D. Boyle.]
At the close of this brilliant scene, Scott received a mark of homage
to his genius which delighted him not less than Laird Nippy's
reverence for the _Sheriff's Knoll_, and the Sheffield cutler's dear
acquisition of his signature on a visiting ticket. Missing his
carriage, he had to return home on foot from Westminster, after the
banquet--that is to say, between two or three o'clock in the
morning;--when he and a young gentleman his companion found themselves
locked in the crowd, somewhere near Whitehall, and the bustle and
tumult were such that his friend was afraid some accident might happen
to the lame limb. A space for the dignitaries was kept clear at that
point by the Scots Greys. Sir Walter addressed a sergeant of this
celebrated regiment, begging to be allowed to pass by him into the
open ground in the middle of the street. The man answered shortly,
that his orders were strict--that the thing was impossible. While he
was endeavoring to persuade the sergeant to relent, some new wave of
turbulence approached from behind, and his young companion exclaimed
in a loud voice, "Take care, Sir Walter Scott, take care!" The
stalwart dragoon, on hearing the name, said, "What! Sir Walter Scott?
He shall get through anyhow!" He then addressed the soldiers near him:
"Make room, men, for Sir Walter Scott, our illustrious countryman!"
The men answered, "Sir Walter Scott!--God bless him!"--and he was in a
moment within the guarded line of safety.
I shall now take another extract from the _memoranda_ with which I
have been favored by my friend Allan Cunningham. After the particulars
formerly quoted about Scott's sitting to Chantrey in the spring of
1820, he proceeds as follows:--
"I saw Sir Walter again, when he attended the coronation, in
1821. In the mean time his bust had been wrought in marble, and
the sculptor desired to take the advantage of his visit to
communicate such touches of expression or lineament as the new
material rendered necessary. This was done with a happiness of
eye and hand almost magical: for five hours did the poet sit, or
stand, or walk, while Chantrey's chisel was passed again and
again over the marble, adding something at every touch.
"'Well, Allan,' he said, when he saw me at this last sitting,
'were you at the coronation? it was a splendid sight.'--'No, Sir
Walter,' I answered, 'places were dear and ill to get: I am told
it was a magnificent scene: but having seen the procession of
King Crispin at Dumfries, I was satisfied.' I said this with a
smile: Scott took it as I meant it, and laughed heartily. 'That's
not a bit better than Hogg,' he said. 'He stood balancing the
matter whether to go to the coronation or the fair of Saint
Boswell--and the fair carried it.'
"During this conversation, Mr. Bolton the engineer came in.
Something like a cold acknowledgment passed between the poet and
him. On his passing into an inner room, Scott said, 'I am afraid
Mr. Bolton has not forgot a little passage that once took place
between us. We met in a public company, and in reply to the
remark of some one, he said, "That's like the old saying,--in
every quarter of the world you will find a Scot, a rat, and a
Newcastle grindstone." This touched my Scotch spirit, and I said,
"Mr. Bolton, you should have added--_and a Brummagem button_."
There was a laugh at this, and Mr. Bolton replied, "We make
something better in Birmingham than buttons--we make
steam-engines, sir."
"'I like Bolton,' thus continued Sir Walter; 'he is a brave
man,--and who can dislike the brave? He showed this on a
remarkable occasion. He had engaged to coin for some foreign
prince a large quantity of gold. This was found out by some
desperadoes, who resolved to rob the premises, and as a
preliminary step tried to bribe the porter. The porter was an
honest fellow,--he told Bolton that he was offered a hundred
pounds to be blind and deaf next night. "Take the money," was the
answer, "and I shall protect the place." Midnight came--the gates
opened as if by magic--the interior doors, secured with patent
locks, opened as of their own accord--and three men with dark
lanterns entered and went straight to the gold. Bolton had
prepared some flax steeped in turpentine--he dropt fire upon it,
a sudden light filled all the place, and with his assistants, he
rushed forward on the robbers,--the leader saw in a moment he was
betrayed, turned on the porter, and shooting him dead, burst
through all obstruction, and with an ingot of gold in his hand,
scaled the wall and escaped.'
"'That is quite a romance in robbing,' I said;--and I had nearly
said more, for the cavern scene and death of Meg Merrilies rose
in my mind;--perhaps the mind of Sir Walter was taking the
direction of the Solway too, for he said, 'How long have you been
from Nithsdale?'--'A dozen years.' 'Then you will remember it
well. I was a visitor there in my youth; my brother was at
Closeburn school, and there I found Creehope Linn, a scene ever
present to my fancy. It is at once fearful and beautiful. The
stream jumps down from the moorlands, saws its way into the
freestone rock of a hundred feet deep, and, in escaping to the
plain, performs a thousand vagaries. In one part it has actually
shaped out a little chapel,--the peasants call it the Sutors'
Chair. There are sculptures on the sides of the linn too, not
such as Mr. Chantrey casts, but etchings scraped in with a knife
perhaps, or a harrow-tooth.'--'Did you ever hear,' said Sir
Walter, 'of Patrick Maxwell, who, taken prisoner by the King's
troops, escaped from them on his way to Edinburgh, by flinging
himself into that dreadful linn on Moffat water, called the
Douglasses' Beef-tub?'--'Frequently,' I answered; 'the country
abounds with anecdotes of those days: the popular feeling
sympathizes with the poor Jacobites, and has recorded its
sentiments in many a tale and many a verse.'--'The Ettrick
Shepherd has collected not a few of those things,' said Scott,
'and I suppose many snatches of song may yet be found.'--_C._ 'I
have gathered many such things myself, Sir Walter, and as I still
propose to make a collection of all Scottish songs of poetic
merit, I shall work up many of my stray verses and curious
anecdotes in the notes.'--_S._ 'I am glad that you are about such
a thing; any help which I can give you, you may command; ask me
any questions, no matter how many, I shall answer them if I can.
Don't be timid in your selection; our ancestors fought boldly,
spoke boldly, and sang boldly too. I can help you to an old
characteristic ditty not yet in print:--
"There dwalt a man into the wast,
And O gin he was cruel,
For on his bridal night at e'en
He gat up and grat for gruel.
"They brought to him a gude sheep's head,
A bason, and a towel;
Gar take thae whim-whams far frae me,
I winna want my gruel."'
"_C._--'I never heard that verse before: the hero seems related
to the bridegroom of Nithsdale,--
"The bridegroom grat as the sun gade down,
The bridegroom grat as the sun gade down;
To ony man I'll gie a hunder marks sae free,
This night that will bed wi' a bride for me."'
"_S._--'A cowardly loon enough. I know of many crumbs and
fragments of verse which will be useful to your work; the Border
was once peopled with poets, for every one that could fight could
make ballads, some of them of great power and pathos. Some such
people as the minstrels were living less than a century
ago.'--_C._ 'I knew a man, the last of a race of district
tale-tellers, who used to boast of the golden days of his youth,
and say, that the world, with all its knowledge, was grown
sixpence a day worse for him.'--_S._ 'How was that? how did he
make his living?--by telling tales, or singing ballads?'--_C._
'By both: he had a devout tale for the old, and a merry song for
the young; he was a sort of beggar.'--_S._ 'Out upon thee,
Allan--dost thou call that begging? Why, man, we make our bread
by story-telling, and honest bread it is.'"
I ought not to close this extract without observing that Sir F.
Chantrey presented the original bust, of which Mr. Cunningham speaks,
to Sir Walter himself; by whose remotest descendants it will
undoubtedly be held in additional honor on that account. The poet had
the further gratification of learning that three copies were executed
in marble before the original quitted the studio: One for Windsor
Castle--a second for Apsley House--and a third for the friendly
sculptor's own private collection. The casts of this bust have since
been multiplied beyond perhaps any example whatever.
Sir Walter returned to Scotland in company with his friend William
Stewart Rose; and they took the way by Stratford-upon-Avon, where, on
the wall of the room in which Shakespeare is supposed to have been
born, the autograph of these pilgrims may still, I believe, be
traced.