Leyden's work on the _Border Minstrelsy_ deserves more than casual

notice, and was most warmly and amply acknowledged by Scott. The

Dissertation on Fairies, which introduces the second volume, 'although

arranged and digested by the editor, abounds with instances of such

curious reading as Leyden only had read, and was originally compiled by

him.' Leyden was equally enthusiastic in collecting the ballads, and

was determined from the first to make the collection a big thing--to

turn out three or four volumes at least. 'In this labour,' says Scott,

'he was equally interested by friendship for the editor, and by his own

patriotic zeal for the honour of the Scottish borders; and both may be

judged of from the following circumstance. An interesting fragment had

been obtained of an ancient historical ballad; but the remainder, to the

great disturbance of the editor and his coadjutor, was not to be

recovered. Two days afterwards, while the editor was sitting with some

company after dinner, a sound was heard at a distance like that of the

whistling of a tempest through the torn rigging of the vessel which

scuds before it. The sounds increased as they approached more near; and

Leyden (to the great astonishment of such of the guests as did not know

him) burst into the room, chanting the desiderated ballad with the most

enthusiastic gesture, and all the energy of what he used to call the

saw-tones of his voice. It turned out that he had walked between forty

and fifty miles and back again, for the sole purpose of visiting an old

person who possessed this precious remnant of antiquity.'

Only men of the warm-blooded species could thoroughly appreciate John

Leyden. His absurdities had nothing akin to foolishness. They were the

inevitable accompaniments of genius operating, Alexander-like, towards

what appeared impossible.

*CHAPTER XXXIII*

The 'Young Men of Edinburgh'--Their Whiggery--Anecdote of Jeffrey and

Bell--James Grahame, Author of _The Sabbath_--Sydney Smith--His Liking

for Scotland--Whig Dread of Wit--Lord Webb Seymour--Horner's Analysis of

him--Friendship with Playfair--His Anecdote of Horner.

The name of Leyden suggests the remarkable 'concentration of conspicuous

young men' of which Lord Cockburn speaks so often with pride. They were

mostly Whigs, drawn together by political sympathy and speculative

tastes. Most of them attained the high distinction to which their

talents well entitled them to aspire, and several of them achieved high

literary fame. Jeffrey, Cockburn, and Brougham were at the centre of

this group, which also for a time included Leyden, Sydney Smith, Thomas

Campbell, Francis Horner, and John Allen. Scott, as we know, was on

terms of warm intimacy with some of these, but he was not one of their

society, though he used to say he seemed never to enjoy an evening so

much as when spent among his Whig friends. To the same set belonged

George Joseph Bell, author of the _Commentaries on the Law of

Bankruptcy_, and afterwards Professor of Law in Edinburgh University.

From the _Life of Jeffrey_ it is evident that Bell's influence on the

future Reviewer was great and invaluable. The sight of Bell's tireless

assiduity at his great work made Jeffrey exclaim--'Since I have seen you

engaged in that great work of yours, and witnessed the confinement and

perspiration it has occasioned you, I have oftener considered you as an

object of envy and reproachful comparison than ever before.... I have

wished myself hanged for a puppy.' He was constantly exhorting Jeffrey

to exertion, and really inspired him with the hope and confidence that

led to success.

Another estimable Whig ('but with him Whig principles meant only the

general principles of liberty') was James Grahame, best known from his

poem _The Sabbath_. Professor Wilson greatly esteemed Grahame, and

wrote an elegy to his memory, which Cockburn says owes its charm to its

expressing the gentle kindness and simple piety of his departed friend.

'His delight was in religion and poetry, and he was perfectly contented

with his humble curacy. With the softest of human hearts, his

indignation knew no bounds when it was roused by what he held to be

oppression, especially of animals or the poor, both of whom he took

under his special protection. He and a beggar seemed always to be old

friends.'

A happy accident brought the Rev. Sydney Smith to Edinburgh. He had

abandoned the dreary solitude of Nether Avon, where he was 'the first

and purest pauper of the hamlet,' in order to accompany, as bear-leader,

the son of Squire Beach to the University of Weimar in 1797, but the

disturbed state of affairs at that time in Germany made their plans

impracticable. So, as Smith put it, they were driven 'by stress of

politics' into Edinburgh. Here he found a very congenial society, and

soon became a leader among the younger Whigs. It was part of his humour

to gird at Scotland as the garret of the world, or the knuckle-end of

England, and at Scotsmen for requiring a surgical operation to

appreciate a joke, but there was no part of Britain where his wit and

jokes were more appreciated, and his daughter, Lady Holland, testifies

to his strong liking for both the country and the people. It is said

that he and his companions gained for Edinburgh the title of the Modern

Athens.

Unfortunately Cockburn's reference to Sydney Smith is very brief. He

only says--'Smith's reputation here then was the same as it has been

throughout his life, that of a wise wit. Was there ever more sense

combined with more hilarious jocularity? But he has been lost by being

placed within the pale of holy orders. He has done his duty there

decently well, and is an admirable preacher. But he ought to have been

in some freer sphere; especially since wit and independence do not make

bishops.' One feels tempted to add 'under a Whig Government.' It is

only justice to the memory of the wittiest of men to say that 'decently

well' as applied to his parochial work is faint praise.' It was from

beginning to end of his career brilliantly conducted, and it was only

'the timidity of the Whigs' that prevented his being made a bishop. The

Tory minister, Lord Lyndhurst, in 1829 promoted him to a prebendal stall

at Bristol. It was only stupid people who doubted Smith's orthodoxy, and

the doubt originated solely in the popularity of his jokes.

Another Englishman, who was one of the distinguished company and who

lived in Edinburgh from 1797 to his death in 1819, was Lord Webb

Seymour, brother of the Duke of Somerset. His purpose in retiring to

Edinburgh was to devote himself wholly to the study of science and

philosophy, a purpose which he carried out without swerving for a

moment. Such a man could not fail to be universally respected and

beloved. It can be seen from Horner's _Memoirs_ how excellent was the

effect which the truly philosophic views and practice of this rare man

had upon the minds and characters of his friends. Horner in his

_Journal_ analyses his friend's character very acutely: 'He possesses

several of the most essential constituents to the character of a true

philosopher--an ardent passion for knowledge and improvement, with

apparently as few preconceived prejudices as most people can have. A

habit of study intense almost to plodding--a mild, timid, reserved

disposition.... He can subject himself to general rules, which perhaps

he carries too far in matters of diet, etc. His knowledge of character

quite astonishes me at times--his proficiency in the science of

physiognomy.' Horner must have been charmed to meet so much of himself

in the personality of another. Seymour, being such a man, disapproved

of Horner's entry into political life. His friendship with Playfair,

the great mathematician and geologist, was famous. Geology was the

favourite pursuit of both, and they were continually together in

scientific walks and excursions. Cockburn says: 'They used to be called

man and wife. Before I got acquainted with them, I used to envy their

walks in the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, and their scientific excursions

to the recesses of the Highland glens, and to the summits of the

Highland mountains. Two men more amiable, more philosophical and more

agreeable there could not be.'

Francis Horner, the youngest of the band, became prominent at an early

age for his strong and very independent views on politics. Sydney Smith

was 'cautioned against him' by some excellent and feeble people to whom

he had brought letters of introduction. This led to their friendship.

It was of Horner that Smith said: 'The commandments were written on his

face. I have often told him there was not a crime he might not commit

with impunity, as no judge or jury who saw him could give the smallest

degree of credit to anything that was said against him.' The following

anecdote related by Smith is a happy illustration of the character of

Horner and of his friend who tells it: 'He loved truth so much, that he

never could bear any jesting upon important subjects. I remember one

evening the late Lord Dudley and myself pretended to justify the conduct

of the government in stealing the Danish fleet; we carried on the

argument with some wickedness against our graver friend; he could not

stand it, but bolted indignantly out of the room; we flung up the sash,

and, with loud peals of laughter, professed ourselves decided

Scandinavians; we offered him not only the ships, but all the shot,

powder, cordage, and even the biscuit, if he would come back; but

nothing could turn him; he went home, and it took us a fortnight of

serious behaviour before we were forgiven.'

*CHAPTER XXXIV*

M. G. Lewis--Seeks out Scott--_The Monk_--Translation by Scott of

Goetz--Anecdote of Lewis--James Ballantyne--Prints _Apology for Tales of

Terror_--William Laidlaw--James Hogg--Character and Talents.

Scott's connection with M. G. Lewis, author of _The Monk_, was brought

about through William Erskine's having shown him Scott's translations

from the German. Lewis was eager to get Scott enlisted as a contributor

to his projected _Tales of Wonder_. He came to Edinburgh in the autumn

of 1798, and Scott long afterwards told Allan Cunningham that he had

never felt such elation as when the 'Monk' invited him to dine with him

for the first time at his hotel. Lewis indeed was _the_ literary lion

of the time. Charles Fox had crossed the floor of the House of Commons

to congratulate him on his book. The London literary world was for the

time classified into the adherents and the detractors of _The Monk_.

Scott and he now met frequently, and it should not be forgotten, in

justice to the small man, that the great one, roused by the ringing

lines of 'Alonzo the Brave' and such resounding ware, was by him first

set upon trying his hand at original verse, 'for' (Scott adds) 'I had

passed the early part of my life with a set of clever, rattling,

drinking fellows, whose thoughts and talents lay wholly out of the

region of poetry.' Lewis was very small in person, and looked always

like a schoolboy. Moreover, for all his cleverness, he was a decided

bore in society; but all the same he was, as Scott always maintained, a

good and generous man, who did good by stealth. Soon after this, he

took the trouble to arrange for Scott the publication of his translation

of Goethe's _Goetz von Berlichingen_, bargaining with Bell the publisher

for twenty-five guineas for the copyright, and another twenty-five

guineas in case of a second edition, which, however, was not called for

till long after the copyright had expired. The _Goetz_ came out in

February 1799. Lewis also did his best to get another half-translated,

half-original dramatic piece of Scott's, _The House of Aspen_, produced

on the stage, but without success. Scott has an anecdote of Lewis in his

_Journal_ which is rather amusing:--'I remember a picture of him being

handed about at Dalkeith House. It was a miniature, I think by

Saunders, who had contrived to muffle Lewis's person in a cloak, and

placed some poignard or dark lanthorn appurtenance (I think) in his

hand, so as to give the picture the cast of a bravo. It passed from hand

to hand into that of Henry, Duke of Buccleuch, who, hearing the general

voice affirm that it was very like, said aloud, "That like Matt Lewis?

Why, that picture's like a _Man_!" Imagine the effect! Lewis was at

his elbow.'

Towards the end of the year 1799 occurred an incident, trifling enough

in itself, which was destined by the sport of Fate to bring disaster and

sorrow upon the life of Scott. He had paid a short visit to Rosebank,

his uncle's house at Kelso, and was preparing to return to Edinburgh for

the winter, when an old acquaintance, James Ballantyne, the eldest son

of a Kelso shopkeeper, called to see him. James, having failed to

establish himself as a solicitor, was now the printer and editor of a

weekly newspaper in Kelso. The writing of a short legal article by Scott

for the _Kelso Mail_ led to Ballantyne's printing twelve copies of a few

of Scott's ballads under the title of _Apology for Tales of

Terror_--1799. Very soon after this Scott appears to have been planning

that fatal scheme of partnership which brought Ballantyne to town and

all his woe.

In Edinburgh Scott still continued his attendance at the Bar. But all

the time he could spare beyond this and his sheriff's duties, was

devoted during the years 1800 and 1801 to his labours on the

_Minstrelsy_. In fact, he combined to some extent his double aims, and

the sheriff's visits to Ettrick Forest often resulted in large additions

to the ballad-editor's stores. In one of these excursions he was

hospitably entertained at the farm of Blackhouse, on the Douglas burn.

There he found another zealous assistant in ballad-hunting, William

Laidlaw, the son of his kindly host. Of this ever-memorable and most

faithful friend of Scott, Lockhart says: 'He was then a very young man,

but the extent of his acquirements was already as noticeable as the

vigour and originality of his mind: and their correspondence, where

"Sir" passes at a few bounds, through "Dear Sir" and "Dear Mr. Laidlaw,"

to "Dear Willie," shows how speedily this new acquaintance had warmed

into a very tender affection. Laidlaw's zeal about the ballads was

repaid by Scott's anxious endeavours to get him removed from a sphere

for which, he writes, "it is no flattery to say that you are much too

good." It was then, and always continued to be, his opinion, that his

friend was particularly qualified for entering with advantage on the

study of the medical profession; but such designs, if Laidlaw himself

ever took them up seriously, were not ultimately persevered in; and I

question whether any worldly success could, after all, have overbalanced

the retrospect of an honourable life spent happily in the open air of

nature, amidst scenes the most captivating to the eye of genius, and in

the intimate confidence of, perhaps, the greatest of contemporary

minds.'

James Hogg, the 'Ettrick Shepherd,' was at this time working in a

neighbouring valley. Laidlaw told Scott of the humble shepherd who was

so fond of the local songs and ballads, and whose aged mother was

celebrated in the Ettrick dales for having by heart several notable

ballads in a perfect form. 'The personal history of James Hogg' (says

Lockhart) 'must have interested Scott even more than any acquisition of

that sort which he owed to this acquaintance with, perhaps, the most

remarkable man that ever wore the _maud_ of a shepherd. Under the garb,

aspect, and bearing of a rude peasant--and rude enough he was in most of

these things, even after no inconsiderable experience of society--Scott

found a brother poet, a true son of nature and genius, hardly conscious

of his powers. He had taught himself to write by copying the letters of

a printed book as he lay watching his flock on the hillside, and had

probably reached the utmost pitch of his ambition, when he first found

that his artless rhymes could touch the heart of the ewe-milker who

partook the shelter of his mantle during the passing storm. As yet his

naturally kind and simple character had not been exposed to any of the

dangerous flatteries of the world; his heart was pure, his enthusiasm

buoyant as that of a happy child; and well as Scott knew that

reflection, sagacity, wit and wisdom, were scattered abundantly among

the humblest rangers of these pastoral solitudes, there was here a depth

and a brightness that filled him with wonder, combined with a quaintness

of humour, and a thousand little touches of absurdity, which afforded

him more entertainment, as I have often heard him say, than the best

comedy that ever set the pit in a roar.'

Hogg, it should be mentioned, had been in the service of Mr. Laidlaw at

Blackhouse from 1790 to 1799, and during that time had been treated with

great sympathy and kindness. He enjoyed the run of all the books in the

house, and was prompted and encouraged with his rhymes. Hogg was born

in 1772, being thus a year younger than Scott.

*CHAPTER XXXV*

Failure of Lewis's _Tales_--Scott's _Border Minstrelsy_--Ballantyne's

Printing--His Conceit--Removal of Chief Baron from Queensberry

House--His odd Benevolence--Anecdote of Charles Hope--The Schoolmasters

Act.

The long-deferred _Tales of Wonder_ at length appeared in 1801. For

various reasons the book was a failure. A vigorous parody held up the

author's style and person to ridicule. On the whole, however, Scott's

share in the unlucky venture did him no harm. His contributions, he

says, were dismissed without much censure, and in some cases received

praise from the critics. 'Like Lord Home at the battle of Flodden, I

did so far well, that I was able to stand and save myself.'

The episode seems to have made him all the more eager to come forward on

his own account with the _Minstrelsy_. Volumes I. and II. were

published in January 1802 by Cadell and Davies, of the Strand. The

edition was specially remarkable as being the first work printed by

James Ballantyne from his press at Kelso. 'When the book came out, the

imprint, Kelso, was read with wonder by amateurs of typography, who had

never heard of such a place, and were astonished at the example of

handsome printing which so obscure a town had produced.' (See 'Essay on

Imitations of the Ancient Ballad.') We know from Lockhart that the

editor's most sanguine expectations were exceeded by its success. The

edition was exhausted in the course of the year, and Scott received L78,

10s., being half the net profits of the venture. Longman, it seems, came

in person to Edinburgh, to make 'a very liberal offer' for the

copyright, including the third volume, which was accepted. There is a

letter to Scott from James Ballantyne, who had been in London,

'cultivating acquaintance with publishers,' in which he says, 'I shall

ever think the printing the _Scottish Minstrelsy_ one of the most

fortunate circumstances of my life. I have gained, not lost by it, in a

pecuniary light; and the prospects it has been the means of opening to

me, may advantageously influence my future destiny. I can never be

sufficiently grateful for the interest you unceasingly take in my

welfare. One thing is clear--that Kelso cannot be my abiding place for

aye.'

Soaring ambition of the 'stickit solicitor,' and melancholy blindness of

the great man who took the conceited 'cratur' on his own valuation! But

the ill-omened 'Bulmer of Kelso' had not yet descended on the Canongate,

when an event happened which may be regarded as summing up and crowning

the transformation of old Edinburgh. It was a sort of postscript to the

change which the last generation had seen effected with such startling

and tragic rapidity. This was the removal (in 1801) of the family of

Lord Chief Baron Sir James Montgomery from their famous residence,

Queensberry House in the Canongate. Queensberry House was acquired by

the first Duke of Queensberry from Lord Halton, afterwards Earl of

Lauderdale. The Duke is said to have practically rebuilt it and made it,

both inside and out, one of the finest mansions in the country. To-day

there is nothing suggestive of former grandeur about the building,

except its size and the massive wall which fronts it. The name

'Queensberry House' is painted on the gate and is also on a brass plate

at the bell-handle. The building looks like a modern barrack, the

windows having been pointed and freshened up for the visit of King

Edward: very proper treatment for a 'House of Refuge,' if not for

Queensberry House. In this mansion, 'Kitty, beautiful and young,' the

wife of Charles, third Duke, used to lead the aristocratic society of

Edinburgh in the days of the first and second Georges. She was the

friend of Prior, who celebrated her as 'the Female Phaeton,' and half a

century later Horace Walpole added two lines to the poem:--

'To many a Kitty Love his car will for a day engage,

But Prior's Kitty, ever fair, obtained it for an age.'

Under 'Old Q.' the mansion in the Canongate was dismantled. Sir James

Montgomery resided in it till 1801, when he resigned his seat as Chief

Baron, and retired to the country. 'I believe' (says Cockburn) 'he was

the last gentleman who resided in that historical mansion, which, though

now one of the asylums of destitution, was once the brilliant abode of

rank and fashion and political intrigue. I wish the Canongate could be

refreshed again by the habitual sight of the Lord Chief Baron's family

and company, and the gorgeous carriage, and the tall and well-dressed

figure, in the old style, of his Lordship himself. He was much in our

house, my father being one of his Puisnes. Though a remarkably kind

landlord, he thought it his duty to proceed sometimes with apparent

severity against poachers, smugglers, and other rural corrupters; but as

it generally ended in his paying the fine himself, in order to save the

family, his benevolence was supposed to do more harm than his justice

did good. He died in 1803.'

On the occasion of Montgomery's retirement Robert Dundas was appointed

Lord Chief Baron, and Charles Hope became Lord Advocate. His short

career was signalised by a somewhat rash and high-handed proceeding

against Morison, a Banffshire farmer, who had dismissed a ploughman for

absenting himself without leave in order to attend a volunteer drill.

The matter led to a motion of censure in the House of Commons, which was

not carried, but considerable odium was stirred. Hope in his defence

had spoken of the Lord Advocate as vested with the whole powers of the

state, both military and civil. An English newspaper reported Hope's

return to Scotland in this satirical paragraph:--'Arrived at Edinburgh,

the Lord High Chancellor of Scotland, the Lord Justice-General, the Lord

Privy Seal, the Privy Council, and the Lord Advocate, all in one

post-chaise, containing only a single person.'

Lord Cockburn has very properly defended the memory of Hope from all

imputation of injustice. This act, he says, was entirely owing to a hot

temperament not cooled by a sound head. 'In spite of all his talent and

all his worth, had he continued in the very delicate position of Lord

Advocate, his infirmity might have again brought him into some similar

trouble. It was fortunate therefore that the gods, envying mortals the

longer possession of Eskgrove, took him to themselves; and Hope reigned

in his stead. He was made Lord Justice-Clerk in December 1804.'

It was Hope that carried through the Schoolmasters Act of 1803, by which

the heritors were compelled to build houses for the schoolmasters. The

Act prescribed that the houses (!) need not contain more than two rooms

_including the kitchen_. The provision was considered shabby even in

those days, but it was all that could be got out of Parliament then.

Hope told Lord Cockburn that he had considerable difficulty in getting

even the two rooms, and that a great majority of the lairds and Scottish

members were indignant at being obliged to 'erect palaces for dominies.'

*CHAPTER XXXVI*

Anecdotes of R. P. Gillies--His Picture of Scott--'Border Press' at

Abbeyhill--Britain armed for Defence--Scenes in Edinburgh--'Captain'

Cockburn.

The eccentric R. P. Gillies seems to have made Scott's acquaintance

about this time. This gentleman, of whom Scott, with his usual

tenderness to the unfortunate, says 'a more friendly, generous creature

never lived,' seems to have been in sore distress about 1825-26. He is

frequently mentioned in Scott's _Journal_, sending numerous 'precatory

letters' while Scott's own troubles were at the worst. Both Lockhart

and Scott made efforts to assist him. Gillies about the year 1851

brought out his _Memoirs of a Literary Veteran_, in which he says that

Scott was 'not only among the earliest but most persevering of my

friends--persevering in spite of my waywardness.' One of R. P. G.'s

whims, being a rather clever calligraphist, was to imitate some other

person's handwriting, and he used to continue for months writing in

imitation of some one or other of his friends. A fresh idea, however,

had struck him at the time he was engaged on certain translations from

the German which Lockhart had got Constable to undertake to publish for

him. He wrote the whole with a brush upon large cartridge paper, and

when it was finished, two stout porters were required to carry the huge

bales to the publisher's office. The result was, as might have been

expected, that Constable drew back from so tremendous an undertaking.

It is amusing to find that the monstrous MS. was welcomed by another

Edinburgh publisher, who paid L100 for it and issued the book under the

title of _The Magic Ring_.

We are indebted to the same R. P. G. for some interesting remarks on

Scott's appearance in 1802: 'At this early period, Scott was more like

the portrait by Saxon, engraved for the _Lady of the Lake_, than any

subsequent picture. He retained in features and form an impress of that

elasticity and youthful vivacity, which he used to complain wore off

after he was forty, and by his own account was exchanged for the

plodding heaviness of an operose student. He had now, indeed, somewhat

of a boyish gaiety of look, and in person was tall, slim, and extremely

active.'

About the end of this year James Ballantyne came to Edinburgh and

established his 'Border Press' at Abbeyhill, in the neighbourhood of

Holyrood House. He at this time received 'a liberal loan' from Scott,

who thus became implicated in this unfortunate concern.

The condition of public affairs was now beginning to relieve somewhat

the tension of bitter feeling. Cockburn remarks that, 'upon the whole

events were bringing people into better humour. Somewhat less was said

about Jacobinism, though still too much; and sedition had gone out.

Napoleon's obvious progress towards military despotism opened the eyes

of those who used to see nothing but liberty in the French revolution;

and the threat of invasion, while it combined all parties in defence of

the country, raised the confidence of the people in those who trusted

them with arms, and gave them the pleasure of playing at soldiers.

Instead of Jacobinism, Invasion became the word.'

Francis Horner writes from London: 'I understand the spirit of the

people in London is, in general, almost as good as can be wished, and

better than could have been expected. The police magistrates can form a

tolerably good guess from their spies in the alehouses. In the country,

particularly along the coast, the spirit of the people is said to be

very high. Indeed no other country of such extent ever exhibited so

grand a spectacle as the unanimity in which all political differences

are at present lost.' In this letter to John Archibald Murray,

referring to the _Beacon_, a weekly paper of 'incitements to

patriotism,' he says, 'Pray have you engaged Walter Scott in these

patriotic labours? His Border spirit of chivalry must be inflamed at

present and might produce something. I wish he would try a song. I

joined Mackintosh in exhorting Campbell to court the Tyrtaean muse: as

yet he has produced nothing; not that I looked upon the success of his

efforts with certainty, being not quite in his line; but a miracle

produced "Hohenlinden," and this is now the age of miracles of every

kind.' Later on this idea also occurred to Warren Hastings.

The war which broke out in 1803 and continued till Napoleon's fearful

power was shattered for ever on the field of Waterloo, was a struggle

altogether different in aims and spirit from that which began in 1792.

Conquest, warlike fame, and personal aggrandisement were now Napoleon's

aims, and the inspiring watchword of Liberty was now transferred from

his banners to those of his enemies. In checking the great Frenchman's

ambition the Allies were guarding the freedom of Europe. In Britain

every man was roused to defence, and felt, like Horner, that 'the people

of England were about to gain for civilisation and democracy a very

splendid triumph over military despotism.' The threatened invasion was

in every man's mind at every moment and in every place. The scene

Cockburn now witnessed in Edinburgh had its counterpart in every city of

the kingdom:--

'Edinburgh became a camp. We were all soldiers, one way or other.

Professors wheeled in the college area; the side arms and the uniform

peeped from behind the gown at the bar, and even on the bench; and the

parade and the review formed the staple of men's talk and thoughts.

Hope, who had kept his Lieutenant-Colonelcy when he was Lord Advocate,

adhered to it, and did all its duties after he became Lord

Justice-Clerk. This was thought unconstitutional by some; but the spirit

of the day applauded it. Brougham served the same gun in a company of

artillery with Playfair. James Moncrieff, John Richardson, James Grahame

(_The Sabbath_), Thomas Thomson, and Charles Bell were all in one

company of riflemen. Francis Horner walked about the streets with a

musket, being a private in the Gentlemen Regiment. Dr. Gregory was a

soldier, and Thomas Brown the moralist, Jeffrey, and many another since

famous in more intellectual warfare. I, a gallant captain, commanded

ninety-two of my fellow-creatures from 1804 to 1814--the whole course of

that war.'

*CHAPTER XXXVII*

Enthusiasm of Volunteers--Drill and Sham Fights--Scott's

Letters--Quartermaster--Anecdote by Cockburn--Recruiting for the

Army--Indifference to Fear of Invasion--Greatness of the Danger--War

Song of 1802.

Captain Coburn's company was the left flank company of the 'Western

Battalion of Midlothian Volunteers.' The right flank company was

commanded by John Archibald Murray (afterwards Lord Murray), so that

both these companies had embryo judges at their head. So ardent was

their zeal that, besides the general day performance in Heriot's Green

and Bruntsfield Links, the two companies used to drill almost every

night of the four winter months of 1804 and 1805, by torch-light, in the

ground flat of the George Street Assembly Rooms, which was then all one

earthen-floored apartment. Then there was drilling with the whole

regiment, besides parades, reviews, and four to six inspections in the

course of the year. Sometimes they were ordered on 'permanent duty' to

Leith or Haddington, and billeted on the long-suffering citizens. Then

there were the sham fights, the marches, and the continual serio-comedy

of the officers' mess. Such was the state of affairs for years in every

corner of Great Britain. All who enrolled as volunteers were exempt

from the militia ballot and from the risk of having to serve in the

field as long as the war lasted. Thus the volunteer ranks were easily

filled; and the sense of duty, or the contagious excitement of the time,

supplied plenty of officers. The whole population, in fact, became

military. Any able-bodied man, of whatever rank, who was _not_ a

volunteer, or a local militiaman, had to explain or apologise for his

singularity.

Scott's letters of this time are full of the camp scenes at Musselburgh.

Writing in July, he says to Miss Seward, 'We are assuming a very

military appearance. Three regiments of militia, with a formidable park

of artillery, are encamped just by us. The Edinburgh Troop, to which I

have the honour to be quarter-master, consists entirely of young

gentlemen of family, and is, of course, admirably well mounted and

armed. For myself, I must own that to one who has, like me, _la tete un

peu exaltee_, "the pomp and circumstance of war" gives, for a time, a

very poignant and pleasing sensation. The imposing appearance of

cavalry, in particular, and the rush which marks their onset, appear to

me to partake highly of the sublime.'

But the sublime was occasionally varied by a touch of the ludicrous.

This is brought very vividly before us in the anecdote related by

Cockburn, who, like the rest, records Scott's extraordinary zeal in the

patriotic cause. 'It was,' he says, 'with him an absolute passion,

indulgence in which gratified his feudal taste for war, and his jovial

sociableness. He drilled, and drank, and made songs, with a hearty

conscientious earnestness which inspired or shamed everybody within the

attraction. I do not know if it is usual, but his troop used to

practise, individually, with the sabre at a turnip,[1] which was stuck

on the top of a staff, to represent a Frenchman, in front of the line.

Every other trooper, when he set forward in his turn, was far less

concerned about the success of his aim at the turnip, than about how he

was to tumble. But Walter pricked forward gallantly, saying to himself,

"cut them down, the villains, cut them down!" and made his blow, which

from his lameness was often an awkward one, cordially muttering curses

all the while at the detested enemy.'

[1] One thinks of Oliver Proudfute and his sternpost of a dromond, fixed

up in his yard for practice. 'That must make you familiar with the use

of your weapon,' said the Smith. 'Ay, marry does it.'--_Fair Maid of

Perth_, chap. viii.

Looking at the patriotic movement in the cold light of reason, one can

see that its real use was a much humbler one than those enthusiastic and

gallant fellows intended. Young artisans and ploughmen who had once

joined the volunteers, falling in love with the liveliness and display

of the military career, and becoming unsettled in mind for the dull

routine of their daily work, drifted readily into the paid militia.

Thus the volunteer system was indirectly a splendid means of recruiting

for the army. But there can be no doubt that for immediate service in

the field--and it was for this that they were preparing--the volunteers

would not have been found qualified. Their existence, however, gave the

nation confidence, and prevented all danger of panic. It is marvellous

to find, on the best evidence of those who lived and acted important

parts in those critical years, that the general feeling about invasion

was one of complete indifference. Most people went about their own

business, and trusted to the country's luck. Although justified by

events, it was an ill-founded security. Men of speculative minds, the

Cockburns and the Horners, were in a great and genuine fright. Romantic

and active spirits, like Scott, anticipated the turning of their sport

into earnest at any moment. And how easily it might have happened so.

'Questions are mooted' (said Horner), 'and possibilities supposed, that

make one shudder for the fate of the world.' Certainly there were

reasons enough for constant fear and dread: the brilliant and unbroken

success of Napoleon's arms: Ireland, a ready and willing basis for his

first attack: and then the fearful loss and suffering to a country so

thickly peopled and utterly unprepared for internal defence, should the

war actually be brought within our bounds.

'If ever breath of British gale

Shall fan the tri-color,

Or footstep of invader rude,

With rapine foul, and red with blood,

Pollute our happy shore--

Then, farewell home, and farewell friends!

Adieu each tender tie!

Resolved we mingle in the tide,

Where charging squadrons furious ride,

To conquer or to die.'--

From 'War-Song of Royal Edinburgh

Light Dragoons,' 1802.

*CHAPTER XXXVIII*

Ashestiel--39 Castle Street--'Honest Tom Purdie'--Associations of

Scott's Work with Edinburgh Home--First Lines of the Lay--Abandons the

Bar for Literature--Story of Gilpin Horner--Progress of the Poem.

In the summer of 1803, when Scott was engaged in the military functions

in which his heart delighted, he received a gentle hint from the

Lord-Lieutenant of Selkirkshire with regard to the less exciting claims

of his sheriffship. He had not yet complied strictly with the law which

required that every sheriff should reside at least four months in the

year within his own jurisdiction. In order to comply with the law, the

Lasswade cottage was now given up, and in the summer of 1804 the family

took up their residence for that season at Ashestiel, a farmhouse very

romantically situated on the banks of the Tweed, a few miles from

Selkirk. Their town residence, since 1802, was 39 Castle Street, and

continued so to be till the black days of 1826. By the death of his

uncle Robert in June 1804, Scott inherited Rosebank, 'a beautiful little

villa on the banks of the Tweed, and about thirty acres of the finest

land in Scotland.' The estate was sold in the course of the year for

L5000. Scott's fixed income, from all sources, at this time seems to

have been about L1000 a year. During the first week at Ashestiel the

Sheriff acquired his famous retainer 'honest Tom Purdie'; the ideal

companion that the Sheriff got so much good of, 'Tom Purdie, kneaded up

between the friend and servant, as well as Uncle Toby's bowling-green

between sand and clay.' This is Lockhart's account of their meeting:

'Tom was first brought before him, in his capacity of Sheriff, on a

charge of poaching, when the poor fellow gave such a touching account of

his circumstances--a wife, and I know not how many children, depending

on his exertions--work scarce and grouse abundant--and all this with a

mixture of odd sly humour,--that the Sheriff's heart was moved. Tom

escaped the penalty of the law--was taken into employment as shepherd,

and showed such zeal, activity, and shrewdness in that capacity, that

Scott never had any occasion to repent of the step he soon afterwards

took, in promoting him to the position' (of farm grieve) 'which had been

originally offered to James Hogg.'

To return to Edinburgh, and 39 Castle Street. 'Poor No. 39' was from

1802 Scott's home and headquarters, his workshop, where he had all his

books and manuscripts stored, the tools he delighted to employ in

planning and perfecting the wondrous works of his tireless pen and

teeming fancy. The house had its connection therefore with the far

greater part of Scott's literary work, a connection starting from the

_Lay of the Last Minstrel_, which Scott himself regarded as 'the first

work in which he laid his claim to be considered as an original author,'

and continuing as far as _Woodstock_, on which he was engaged in the

fatal January of 1826. Even more than Abbotsford, No. 39 Castle Street

deserves to be called the shrine of Scott's memory, having been the

scene of his labours, the home of his children's infancy, the place

where his friends and professional colleagues were feasted at his genial

board, and the scene where the dauntless old hero took up his lance for

his last romantic encounter, the fight with the fiery dragon of debt

which Ballantyne had raised to torture his latest years. The _Lay_ was

not actually commenced here, but at the Lasswade cottage. Here, in the

autumn of 1802, he read the opening stanzas to his friends William

Erskine and George Cranstoun.[1] They were naturally so much impressed

as hardly to venture a remark, and the ardent poet concluded that 'their

disgust had been greater than their good-nature chose to express.' He

threw the MS. in the fire, but on finding that he had so strangely

mistaken their feelings, he decided to begin again. The first canto was

completed during a few days' confinement to his room in Musselburgh

during the 'autumn manoeuvres,' and he thereafter proceeded with it at

the rate of a canto a week. In his letter to George Ellis introducing

Leyden, he mentions his intention of including in the third volume of

the _Minstrelsy_ 'a long poem, a kind of romance of Border chivalry, in

a light-horseman sort of stanza.'

[1] Cranstoun, a great favourite of Scott's, was one of his legal

advisers in his troubles. He became a lord of session in 1826, as Lord

Corehouse.

As we know from the Introduction to the _Lay_, it was now, while the

first draft of the poem was finished on his desk, that Scott finally

resolved to abandon the Bar for literature. His last year's earnings,

1802-3, were L228, 18s. It is probable that his professional friends

expected this, which would be sure to decrease their patronage.

'Certain it is,' he says, 'that the Scottish Themis was at this time

peculiarly jealous of any flirtation with the Muses.' It showed, all

the same, great confidence in his literary resources, for he was well

aware that anything like a firm reputation with the public was a thing

he had still to acquire.

Every one now knows that the story of the goblin page, Gilpin Horner,

was really the occasion which started the poem. The beautiful young

Countess of Dalkeith, having heard the old legend, suggested half in

jest that Scott should make a ballad of it. 'A single scene of feudal

festivity in the hall of Branksome, disturbed by some pranks of a

nondescript goblin, was probably all that he contemplated; but suddenly,

as he meditates his theme to the sound of the bugle, there flashes on

him the idea of extending his simple outline so as to embrace a vivid

panorama of that old Border life of war and tumult. Erskine, or

Cranstoun, suggests that he would do well to divide the poem into

cantos, and prefix to each of them a motto explanatory of the action,

after the fashion of Spenser in the _Faery Queen_. He pauses for a

moment--and the happiest conception of the framework of a picturesque

narrative that ever occurred to any poet--one that Homer might have

envied--the creation of the ancient harper, starts to life. By such

steps did the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_ grow out of the _Minstrelsy of

the Scottish Border_.'

Lockhart has also drawn attention to the fact that Scott seems to have

been quite willing to communicate this poem, in its progress, to all and

sundry of his acquaintances. 'We shall find him' (he adds) 'following

the same course with his _Marmion_--but not, I think, with any of his

subsequent works. His determination to consult the movements of his own

mind alone in the conduct of his pieces, was probably taken before he

began the _Lay_; and he soon resolved to trust for the detection of

minor inaccuracies to two persons only--James Ballantyne and William

Erskine.'

*CHAPTER XXXIX*

Edinburgh Literary Society--The Men of 1800-1820--Revelation of Scott's

Poetical Genius--Effect in Edinburgh--Local Pride in his

Greatness--Anecdote of Pitt--Success of _Lay of the Last

Minstrel_--Connection with Ballantyne--Secrecy of the Partnership.

Enough has been said of individuals, of both the old and the new

generation, to show the kind of society which looked on when Walter

Scott made his first great attempt upon the public favour. The days of

Hume and Home and Robertson were past, but a few of their

contemporaries, such as Fergusson and Henry Mackenzie, still adorned the

scene. Then there were Jeffrey, Cockburn, Brougham, and the rest of the

young Mountaineers whom Cockburn has so fondly sketched. Well may

Cockburn sing the praises of the unforgotten time--the first two decades

of the nineteenth century. He explains its brilliancy by 'a variety of

peculiar circumstances which operated only during this period.' There

was, of course, the excitement of the war, with the stir and enthusiasm

of the military preparations, all promoting cordiality in social

intercourse. The closing of the Continent to the English, and the

celebrity of Edinburgh's scientists and philosophers, brought many

southerners there for pleasure or for education. But above all, the

Edinburgh of those days realised what can seldom be attained more than

partially in great centres--the ideal of 'literature and society

embellishing each other, without rivalry, and without pedantry.' After

the Peace there began a process of decay. Southern visitors turned to

Italy and France, as in former years. And our philosophic Memorialist

quaintly admits that 'a new race of peaceformed native youths came on

the stage, but with little literature, and a comfortless intensity of

political zeal.'

To all the best of this interesting society Scott was already known, to

many among both the old and the young he was an intimate friend, but

they could hardly have foreseen, any more than he himself could have

anticipated, the marvellous possibilities of the career of which they

now beheld the auspicious start. Fortunately we have, in Cockburn's

_Memorials_, a brief and sober, but genuine and interesting picture of

contemporary feeling in Edinburgh: 'Walter Scott's vivacity and force

had been felt since his boyhood by his comrades, and he had disclosed

his literary inclinations by some translations of German ballads, and a

few slight pieces in the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_; but his

power of great original conception and execution was unknown both to his

friends and himself. In 1805 he revealed his true self by the

publication of the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_. The subject, from the

principle of which he rarely afterwards deviated, was, for the period

singularly happy. It recalled scenes and times and characters so near

as almost to linger in the memories of the old, and yet so remote that

their revival, under poetical embellishments, imparted the double

pleasure of invention and of history. The instant completeness of his

success showed him his region. The _Lay_ was followed by a more

impressive pause of wonder and then by a louder shout of admiration,

than even our previous Edinburgh poem--_The Pleasures of Hope_. But

nobody, not even Scott, anticipated what was to follow. Nobody imagined

the career that was before him; that the fertility of his genius was to

be its most wonderful distinction; that there was to be an unceasing

recurrence of fresh delight, enhanced by surprise at his rapidity and

richness. His advances were like the conquests of Napoleon; each new

achievement overshadowing the last; till people half wearied of his very

profusion. The quick succession of his original works, interspersed as

they were with (for him rather unworthy) productions of a lower kind,

threw a literary splendour over his native city, which had now the glory

of being at once the seat of the most popular poetry, and the most

powerful criticism of the age.'

An interesting anecdote is recorded by an early friend, William Dundas,

which pleasantly connects with Scott the name of the great premier Pitt,

then drawing, in solitary grandeur, near to the end of his extraordinary

career. Dundas writes: 'I remember at Mr. Pitt's table in 1805, the

Chancellor asked me about you and your then situation, and after I had

answered him, Mr. Pitt observed--"He can't remain as he is," and desired

me to "look to it." He then repeated some lines from the _Lay_

describing the old harper's embarrassment when asked to play, and

said--"This is a sort of thing which I might have expected in painting,

but could never have fancied capable of being given in poetry."

As regards the sale of the poem, the figures established a record in the

history of popular poetry in Britain. 'The first edition of the _Lay_

was a magnificent quarto, seven hundred and fifty copies; but this was

soon exhausted, and there followed one octavo impression after another

in close succession to the number of fourteen. In fact, some forty-four

thousand copies had been disposed of in this country, and by the

legitimate trade alone, before he superintended the edition of 1830, to

which his biographical introductions were prefixed. The author's whole

share in the profits of the _Lay_ came to L769, 6s.'

Very shortly after this Scott's unworldly faith and simple confidence in

his friend led him to hoist on his shoulders the odious Succubus

Ballantyne. This personage, pleading increasing expenses and need of

'more capital,' applied for a second 'liberal loan.' We have the man's

own story, which to those who know what business is, needs no comment.

We see the confident, smirking tradesman gaily holding up the bottomless

sack, and Scott, with the sublime folly of a generous and sanguine

nature, pouring his hard-won treasures into it. 'Now,' says James,

'being compelled, maugre all delicacy' (how well he understood Scott!)

'to renew my application, he candidly answered that he was not quite

sure that it would be prudent for him to comply, but in order to evince

his entire confidence in me, he was willing to make a suitable advance

to be admitted as a third-sharer in my business.' Lockhart observes on

this, that no trace has been discovered of any examination into the

state of the business on the part of Scott, at this time. This is the

sort of remark one would expect from Lockhart, a gentleman: but the

implied acceptance of a portion of the blame for Scott is quite

unnecessary. The question is, 'What did the Succubus say, and what did

he show, to Scott at this time? Enough, I have no doubt, to convince

Scott, and on quite good and sufficient grounds, that he was being

favoured in being permitted to have a share in the concern. The

fallacy, and the weakness, were in the man, not in the business.

Scott's one mistake was this transcendental confidence in Ballantyne,

who was a man formed by nature to _fail_! The partnership was very

wisely kept a strict secret, and seems for years not even to have been

suspected by any of his daily companions, except Erskine. Lockhart has

remarked that 'its influence on his literary exertions and his worldly

fortunes was productive of much good and not a little evil. I at this

moment doubt whether it ought, on the whole, to be considered with more

of satisfaction or of regret.'

*CHAPTER XL*

Scott and Jeffrey--Founding of _Edinburgh Review_--Impression in

Edinburgh--Its Political and Literary Pretences--Review of _Lay_ by

Jeffrey--Strange Mistake--Beautiful Appreciation by Mr. Gladstone

quoted--The _Dies Irae_.

In his Introduction to the _Lay_ Scott mentions, _inter alia_, that the

poem had 'received the imprimatur of Mr. Francis Jeffrey, who had been

already for some time distinguished by his critical talent.' The

_Edinburgh Review *had been founded on the 10th of October 1802. Sydney

Smith, Jeffrey, Brougham, and Horner were the most conspicuous among the

founders. Sydney Smith was the first editor. He mentions the fact in

the Preface to his Works: 'I proposed that we should set up a review;

this was acceded to with acclamation. I was appointed editor, and

remained long enough in Edinburgh to edit the first number of the

*Edinburgh Review_.' Cockburn confirms the statement, but points out

that the projectors, though he was not at first their formal editor,

leant mainly on Jeffrey's experience and wisdom. Though Smith actually

edited the first number, it appears from Jeffrey's well-known statement

that there was no official editor at first. After three numbers had

appeared, it was seen that a responsible editor was indispensable.

Jeffrey then became editor, under a fixed arrangement with the

publisher, Archibald Constable.

Like every other successful literary enterprise, the _Edinburgh Review_

was well fitted to the circumstances and to the time. Historically its

importance was far greater than we can now well realise. But we can,

from Cockburn's glowing account of it, to some extent conceive how to

the literary youth of the time it appeared a phenomenon as remarkable as

the original works of Scott. In his _Life_ of Jeffrey he gives a long

and complete account of the founding and the founders of the _Review_,

and says of its first appearance: 'The effect was electrical. And,

instead of expiring, as many wished, in their first effort, the force of

the shock was increased on each subsequent discharge. It is impossible

for those who did not live at the time, and in the heart of the scene,

to feel, or almost to understand the impression made by the new

luminary, or the anxieties with which its motions were observed. It was

an entire and instant change of everything that the public had been

accustomed to in that sort of composition. The old periodical opiates

were extinguished at once. The learning of the new Journal, its talent,

its spirit, its writing, its independence, were all new; and the

surprise was increased by a work so full of public life springing up,

suddenly, in a remote part of the kingdom.'

The _Review_ was, of course, obnoxious to the opponents of reform. It

was assailed with the usual amount of ridicule and personal abuse, and

with prophecies of the speedy demise of so scandalous a publication.

Few, indeed, anticipated that it had come to stay. None foresaw the

services it was destined to perform. But all watched its progress with

intense curiosity and interest. In Edinburgh, naturally, the interest

was of the greatest. Men soon perceived that it was creating a new

literary reputation for the city. It was something gained when the voice

of Edinburgh counted for a power in political affairs. And, of course,

with continued success, the voice became stronger, and the importance of

Scottish opinion in both politics and literature was more and more

widely acknowledged. 'All were the better for a journal to which every

one with an object of due importance had access, which it was vain

either to bully or to despise, and of the fame of which even its

reasonable haters were inwardly proud.'

Jeffrey's review of the _Lay_ is, on the whole, creditable to his

critical sagacity and taste, though its praise fell far short of the

impression made by the poem on the public mind. He made one strange

enough blunder. He found fault with the goblin story, which he regarded

as an excrescence, not knowing that it was actually the origin and

occasion of the whole. He was wrong also in doubting the power of the

poet's genius to inspire an interest in the exploits of the stark

moss-troopers, and in the rugged names of the Border heroes and the

Border scenes. All these uncouth names are now familiar in our mouths

as household words.

To sum up with the _Lay_, Mr. Gladstone, in that delightful _causerie_

on Scott given to his friends at Hawarden in 1868, said two excellent

things about Scott's poetry. The first is, that Scott's reputation

rests not less on his verse than on his prose. The second is, that his

most extraordinary power, his highest genius, is shown at times in his

poetry. 'I know nothing more sublime in the writings of Sir Walter

Scott--certainly I know nothing so sublime in any portion of the sacred

poetry of modern times--I mean of the present century--as the "Hymn for

the Dead," extending only to twelve lines, which he embodied in the _Lay

of the Last Minstrel_. It is in these words, and they perhaps may be

familiar:--

"That day of wrath, that dreadful day,

When heaven and earth shall pass away!

What power shall be the sinner's stay?

How shall he meet that dreadful day?

When shrivelling like a parched scroll,

The flaming heavens together roll;

When louder yet, and yet more dread,

Swells the high trump that wakes the dead!

Oh! on that day, that wrathful day,

When man to judgment wakes from clay,

Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay,

Though heaven and earth shall pass away!"

Simple as these words, and few as these lines are, they are enough to

stamp with greatness the name of the man who wrote them.'

*CHAPTER XLI*

Town and Country--Scott's Ideal--Reversion of Clerkship--Impeachment of

Lord Melville--Acquittal--The Edinburgh Dinner--Scott's Song of

Triumph--Nature of his Professional Duties--Social Claims and Literary

Industry.

When Scott decided to abandon the Bar, he had no intention of quitting

Edinburgh. Notwithstanding his delight in natural scenery and his real

fondness for rural pursuits and his passion for sport, he had an equally

strong attachment to the city and its old routine. 'Here is the

advantage of Edinburgh' (he says in his _Journal_). 'In the country, if

a sense of inability once seizes me, it haunts me from morning to night;

but in Edinburgh the time is so occupied and frittered away by official

duties and chance occupation, that you have not time to play Master

Stephen and be gentlemanlike and melancholy. On the other hand, you

never feel in town those spirit-stirring influences--those glances of

sunshine that make amends for clouds and mist. The country is said to

be quieter life; not to me, I am sure. In the town the business I have

to do hardly costs me more thought than just occupies my mind, and I

have as much of gossip and ladylike chat as consumes the time pleasantly

enough. In the country I am thrown entirely on my own resources, and

there is no medium betwixt happiness and the reverse.' To carry out his

ideal, therefore, of a life alternating between town and country, and

enjoying the best of both, and to keep his mind easy about the

provision--generous, of course--which he should make for his increasing

family, Scott was not satisfied with an income of L1000 a year. He

accordingly set about obtaining another post--such a post (he frankly

puts it) as an author might hope to retreat upon, without any

perceptible alteration of circumstances, whenever the time came that the

public grew weary of him, or he himself tired of his pen. He hoped, in

fact, to obtain a clerkship in the Court of Session, and his friends

began to work for it just after the _Lay_ was published. These friends

were the Duke of Buccleuch and Lord Melville, and, as we have seen, Pitt

himself had given orders that something should be done. Near the end of

1805 it was arranged that Scott should have the succession to the

clerkship held by Mr. Home of Wedderburn. The old gentleman was to

retain the whole salary during his life, while Scott was to do the work

and fall into the salary at Home's death. The matter was arranged just

before Lord Melville's retirement, but a mistake having been made in the

patent, Scott's commission had to be made out by the Home Secretary of

the Whig Government of 1806. Thus it appeared as if he had owed his

appointment to the Whigs, and some of the meaner sort among the local

people grumbled loudly and complained of the preference. Scott resented

this doubly, since he really owed nothing to the Whig Ministry and would

never have accepted a favour at their hands. Lockhart says that this

incident was the occasion of his making himself prominent for a time as

a decided Tory partisan.

The Coalition Government signalised its accession to power by impeaching

Lord Melville. The charges, it is now well known, were groundless and

absurd. At the same time 'the investigation brought out many

circumstances by no means creditable to his discretion.' But on the one

side there was a savage whoop of triumph when the autocrat was himself

brought to trial; on the other, loud and scornful jubilation when the

great pro-consul was acquitted. Less noise might well have served. In

Edinburgh a public dinner was held to celebrate the event, on the 27th

of June 1806, and for this occasion Scott wrote a jolly piece of

rattling doggerel, 'Health to Lord Melville,' which was sung by James

Ballantyne, and received with shouts of applause. A line in this song

'Tally-ho to the Fox,' was fastened upon by political spite as a shout

of triumph over Fox, because he was then on his death-bed. Never was

any effort of malignity more idiotic. If it had been so intended, even

a fool might have seen that it would have been irrelevant. It was, of

course, merely one note of the triumphal cock-crowing at the defeat of

the impeachment. Any one who could seriously think that Scott would for

a moment rejoice at the illness or death of Fox is outside the pale of

argument.

Surprise has often been expressed at the enormous output of Scott's

literary labours during the twenty most active years of his life. But,

vast as it is, the literary output represents only half of his industry

and exertion. Neither his sheriffship nor his clerkship was a sinecure.

The latter required actual attendance in the court, on the average, for

from four to six hours daily during rather less than six months out of

the twelve. The work, though partly mechanical, constantly entailed

extra toil in the way of consulting law papers and authorities at home.

It is well known, too, that Scott performed these duties with the most

conscientious regularity and care. He never employed inferior

assistants to relieve himself of drudgery. He took a just pride, as did

also the best of his colleagues, in maintaining a high reputation for

legal science. There can, indeed, be no question of the justness of his

biographer's view, that it forms one of the most remarkable features in

his history, that during his great period of literary production, he

must have devoted a large proportion of his hours, during half at least

of every year, to the conscientious discharge of professional duties.

Thus Scott, while in Edinburgh, led a life of very exacting labour, and

strictly governed by official routine. His habit of early rising

enabled him to get through the larger portion of his literary task

before breakfast. He was always ready to play his part cheerfully in

the duties of the family circle, as well as to implement the round of

social engagements. The latter were always great, owing to his own and

his wife's popularity in society. Of course, as time went on and his

fame became world-wide, these social calls upon his leisure became

greater and greater. Still, he would often contrive to rescue some of

the evening hours as well, in order to complete the minimum of his daily

literary task. But for occasional drives with his family or friends,

his time in town was mainly spent indoors, and later on he confessed

that this want of activity and open-air life proved highly injurious to

his bodily health.

*CHAPTER XLII*

Colleagues at the Clerks' Table-Morritt on Scott's Conversation--His

Home Life--Treatment of his Children--Ideas on Education--Knowledge of

the Bible--Horsemanship, Courage, Veracity--Success of the Training.

The kindly affections of friendship were always to Scott 'the dearest

part of human intercourse.' Even in 'that sand-cart of a place, the

Parliament House' he found them in abundance. Among his colleagues were

Colin Mackenzie of Portmore, the friend of his boyhood, 'one of the

wisest, kindest, and best men of his time': Hector Macdonald Buchanan of

Drummakiln: Sir Robert Dundas of Beechwood: and David Hume, nephew of

the great David and Professor of Scots Law, afterwards a Baron of the

Exchequer. Mentioning a dinner at Dundas's house, Scott says, 'My little

_nieces_ (_ex officio_) gave us some pretty music.' The explanation of

this is that all these families were so intimate and friendly that the

children all called their fathers' colleagues _uncles_, and the mothers

of their little friends _aunts_. 'In truth' (says Lockhart) 'the

establishment was a brotherhood.'

We may here quote his friend Morritt's description, which, referring to

the year 1808, gives so lifelike a notion of what Scott was to the

friends of his prime: 'At this period his conversation was more equal

and animated than any man's that I ever knew. It was most characterised

by the extreme felicity and fun of his illustrations, drawn from the

whole encyclopedia of life and nature, in a style sometimes too

exuberant for written narrative, but which to him was natural and

spontaneous. A hundred stories, always apposite, and often interesting

the mind by strong pathos, or eminently ludicrous, were daily told,

which, with many more, have since been transplanted, almost in the same

language, into the Waverley Novels and his other writings. These, and

his recitations of poetry, which can never be forgotten by those who

knew him, made up the charm that his boundless memory enabled him to

exert to the wonder of the gaping lovers of wonders. But equally

impressive and powerful was the language of his warm heart, and equally

wonderful were the conclusions of his vigorous understanding, to those

who could return or appreciate either. Among a number of such

recollections, I have seen many of the thoughts which then passed

through his mind embodied in the delightful prefaces annexed late in

life to his poetry and novels. Keenly enjoying literature as he did,

and indulging his own love of it in perpetual composition, he always

maintained the same estimate of it as subordinate and auxiliary to the

purposes of life, and rather talked of men and events than of books and

criticism.'

The happiness he made at home for his children in their early years has

been revealed by his son-in-law in a charming passage. Though familiar

to many, it can hardly be out of place here: 'He had now two boys and

two girls:--and he never had more. (They were Charlotte Sophia, born

1799; Walter, 1801; Anne, 1803; and Charles, 1805). He was not one of

those who take much delight in a mere infant; but no father ever devoted

more time and tender care to his offspring than he did to each of his,

as they reached the age when they could listen to him, and understand

his talk. Like their playmates, Camp and the greyhounds, they had at

all times free access to his study; he never considered their prattle as

any disturbance; they went and came as pleased their fancy; he was

always ready to answer their questions; and when they, unconscious how

he was engaged, entreated him to lay down his pen and tell them a story,

he would take them on his knee, repeat a ballad or legend, kiss them,

and set them down again to their marbles or ninepins, and resume his

labour, as if refreshed by the interruption. From a very early age he

made them dine at table, and "to sit up to supper" was the great reward

when they had been "very good bairns." In short, he considered it as

the highest duty as well as the sweetest pleasure of a parent to be the

companion of his children; he partook all their little joys and sorrows,

and made his kind unformal instructions to blend so easily and playfully

with the current of their own sayings and doings, that so far from

regarding him with any distant awe, it was never thought that any sport

or diversion could get on in the right way, unless _papa_ were of the

party, or that the rainiest day could be dull, so he were at home.'

Scott was no elaborate theorist in regard to education. His sound

practical sense laid hold instinctively of a few invaluable principles,

and these he carried out with his children with the most beneficial

results. He would have nothing to do with the great specific of the

period, those fearful 'children's books' filled with endless facts of

science precisely worded for the purpose of committing to memory. He

was quite pleased, however, with the older-fashioned books, in which

stories appealing to the imagination were employed as a means of

exciting curiosity in graver matters. He took pains to select for their

tasks in recitation such passages of poetry as might be expected to

please their fancy. His own stories and legends with which he amused

them were the beginnings of an intelligent interest in Scottish History,

and on Sundays the Bible stories were in the same way made at once

delightful and familiar. 'He had his Bible' (says Lockhart), 'the Old

Testament especially, by heart; and on these days inwove the simple

pathos or sublime enthusiasm of Scripture, in whatever story he was

telling, with the same picturesque richness as in his week-day tales the

quaint Scotch of Pitscottie, or some rude romantic old rhyme from

Barbour's _Bruce_ or Blind Harry's _Wallace_:

It was characteristic of the man to combine, like Xenophon's ancient

Persians, the love of truth and the love of horsemanship as the two

greatest aims in education. Each of his children, both girls and boys,

became, as soon as old and strong enough for the exercise, the companion

of his own rides over moor and stream and hill. He taught them to laugh

at tumbles and slight misadventures, and they soon caught his own

spirit, and came to delight in adventurous feats like his own. 'Without

courage,' he used to say, 'there cannot be truth; and without truth

there can be no other virtue.' With such a teacher, we may be sure the

two fundamental virtues were imbibed in full perfection.

*CHAPTER XLIII*

_Marmion_--Published by Constable--Misfortunes of Thomas Scott--George

Ellis on _Marmion_--Hostile Review by Jeffrey--Charge of Want of

Patriotism--Mrs. Scott and Jeffrey--Extraordinary Success of the Poem.

_Marmion_ was begun in November 1806, and continued at intervals during

the following year. He had made up his mind--so he tells us in the

Introduction--not to be in a hurry with his new poem, but to bestow upon

it more than his usual care. Particular passages accordingly were

'laboured with a good deal of care' and the progress of the work seems

to have given him much pleasure. 'The period of its composition was a

very happy one in my life.' _Marmion_ was the first of Scott's original

works published by Archibald Constable. This enterprising gentleman

offered a thousand guineas for the poem shortly after it was begun, a

fact which speaks volumes at once for the sagacity of the publisher and

the impression already made by the poet. The offer was accepted, and

the price paid long before the book was published. Scott seems to have

had occasion for the use of the money in connection with the final

withdrawal of his brother Thomas at this time from practice as a Writer

to the Signet. Thomas had been unfortunate in certain speculations

outside his proper business. He afterwards became paymaster of the 70th

Regiment and died in Canada.

The appearance of _Marmion_ was expected with intense interest in

literary circles. It was published in the February of 1808. The

general feeling was that expressed after an interval of two months by

Scott's friend George Ellis, that 'dear old friend, who had more wit,

learning, and knowledge of the world than would fit out twenty

_literati_.' Ellis writes, 'All the world are agreed that you are like

the elephant mentioned in the _Spectator_, who was the greatest elephant

in the world except himself, and consequently, that the only question at

issue is, whether the _Lay_ or _Marmion_ shall be reputed the most

pleasing poem in our language.' He goes on to say that most people

consider the Introductory Epistles--that to Canto V. is addressed to

himself--as merely interruptions to the narrative. He expresses his own

opinion that _Marmion_ is preferable to the _Lay_, because its species

of excellence is of much more difficult attainment. He thinks that

_Marmion_, from the nature of the plot, and from the quality and variety

of the characters, might with advantage have been largely extended, and

elevated to the rank and dignity of an Epic in twelve books. Such seems

to have been, in brief, the spontaneous verdict on _Marmion_ of London

literary circles when the poem was fresh from the press. The _Edinburgh

Review_, all-powerful as the critical oracle of the time, had not yet

recorded its verdict.

Jeffrey's _Review_ had now been in existence for six years. Its pages

were constantly illuminated by the brilliant productions of its army of

able and talented young contributors. So far, also, it was without any

rival worth considering at all. Its circulation was unprecedented, and

its power to make or mar the fortunes of literary aspirants was esteemed

absolute. Scott himself says, 'Of this work nine thousand copies are

printed quarterly, and no genteel family can pretend to be without it,

because, independent of its politics, it gives the only valuable

literary criticism which can be met with.' On reading over Jeffrey's

review of _Marmion_, one feels even yet aggrieved: but as it did not

hurt the actual victim, we need only say, with Lockhart, 'it is highly

creditable to Jeffrey's courageous sense of duty.' Certainly, it

requires a good deal of that quality, and of coolness as well, to

accumulate such a wealth of depreciation and petty fault-finding on the

head of a private friend and honoured colleague. Jeffrey fully

anticipated that Scott would take offence, for he wrote him a

half-apologetic letter, which was sent along with Scott's copy of the

magazine. The article begins with Jeffrey's favourite sweep of the

arm--the writer of a successful poem must expect sterner criticism when

he ventures to issue a second of the same kind. This paves the way to

enumerating previous objections--broken narrative, redundancy of minute

description, inequality of merit in the composition, and the general

spirit and animation 'unchastised by any great delicacy of taste, or

elegance of fancy.' All these faults are common to both the poems, but

_Marmion_ is crowded with additional defects. Compared with the _Lay_,

he thinks it more clear that _Marmion_ has greater faults than that it

has greater beauties, though he is _inclined_ to believe in both

propositions. While he admits greater richness and variety both of

character and incident, he finds in it more tedious and flat passages.

He refers with supercilious contempt to the 'epistolary dissertations,'

in which, poor man, he finds little to his taste. He seems to be

savagely angry that the poem is a romantic narrative--presumably it

ought to have been something else. He regrets that the author should

consume his talent in 'imitations of obsolete extravagance,' in which he

is sure no human being can take any interest. He sums up his indictment

in numbered paragraphs: the plan bad, the incidents improbable, the

characters morally worthless, and the book too long. Though he does

give warm and unstinted praise to 'Flodden Field,' he finds, strange to

say, that the interspersed ballads have less finish and poetical beauty.

Stranger still, the author has wilfully neglected Scottish feelings and

Scottish characters. Think of this charge against Walter

Scott--'scarcely one trait of Scottish nationality or patriotism has

been introduced into the book'! A good deal is said about 'bad taste'

and culpable haste. Then the merciful critic adds that he passes over

many other blemishes of taste and diction. It happened that Jeffrey was

invited to dine at 39 Castle Street on the very day this article

appeared. In reply to Jeffrey's note Scott assured him that the article

had not disturbed his digestion, though he hoped neither his booksellers

nor the public would agree with the opinions it expressed: and begged he

would come to dinner at the hour appointed. Lockhart tells how he was

received by his host with the frankest cordiality, but Mrs. Scott,

though perfectly polite, was not quite so easy with him as usual. She

said as he took his leave, 'Well, good night, Mr. Jeffrey--they tell me

that you have abused Scott in the _Review_, and I hope Mr. Constable has

paid you very well for writing it.' Scott could indeed afford to be

complacent. There was, if anything, some danger of the popularity of

_Marmion_ giving even him 'a heeze.'

The success of _Marmion_ as a publication was as remarkable as that of

the _Lay_. The first edition, as usual a splendid quarto, of two

thousand copies was sold out in less than a month. More than thirty

thousand copies had been sold before the collected edition of the poems

appeared in 1830.

*CHAPTER XLIV*

John Murray--Share in _Marmion_--Reverence for Scott--_The Quarterly

Review_--The 'Cevallos' Article--Jeffrey's Pessimism--Contemplated

Flight to America--Anecdotes of Earl of Buchan.

When Constable had concluded his arrangement with Scott, he followed a

usual and prudent practice in offering fourth shares of the adventure to

two other booksellers. They agreed, and their reply added, 'We both

view it as honourable, profitable, and glorious to be concerned in the

publication of a new poem by Walter Scott.' The writer of these words

was John Murray, of Fleet Street, a young bookseller already of some

note. Murray, as a keen business man, had evidently an eye to see and a

mind that could grasp the future. He was aware that the _Edinburgh

Review_ was the great source and support of Constable's fortunes.

Knowing also that Scott, though a Tory, was an important contributor to

the _Review_, ne seems to have been on the watch for the time when, as

he acutely anticipated, some occasion of rupture would emerge. He told

Lockhart long after that when he read the review of _Marmion_ and the

political article in the same number, he said to himself--'Walter Scott

has feelings both as a gentleman and a Tory, which these people must now

have wounded; the alliance between him and the whole clique of the

_Review_, its proprietor included, is now shaken.' With the same

sagacity, he pushed his advances towards Scott by the medium of James

Ballantyne. Murray came north in person, visited Scott at Ashestiel, and

learned that, as he had expected, the disruption had begun. Scott had,

in fact, been so disgusted with an article in the twenty-sixth number

entitled 'Don Cevallos on the Usurpation of Spain,' that he had written

to Constable withdrawing his subscription and saying, 'The _Edinburgh

Review_ had become such as to render it impossible for me to continue a

contributor to it.--_Now_, it is such as I can no longer continue to

receive or read it.' Mr. Cadell, one of Constable's partners, mentions

that the list of the then subscribers exhibits, in an indignant dash of

Constable's pen opposite Scott's name, the word 'STOPT!!!' The

opportunity was a good one for advancing Murray's views. Before the end

of the year some unguarded words of Mr. Hunter, Constable's junior

partner, made the breach complete. We find Scott writing about 'folks

who learn to undervalue the means by which they have risen,' and

Constable stamping his foot and saying, 'Ay, there is such a thing as

rearing the oak until it can support itself.' The result of all this,

as concerns Scott, was that he eagerly entered into Murray's plans for

establishing a rival _Review_, and that he carried out a scheme, 'begun'

(Lockhart admits) 'in the short-sighted heat of pique,' of starting a

new bookselling house in Edinburgh, another rival to Constable.

Murray's new _Review_ was the _Quarterly_. The first number came out in

February 1809, and was quite sufficient to prove that the _Edinburgh_

was now to have a powerful competitor, and Jeffrey to find in Gifford a

'foeman worthy of his steel.' The idea of the _Quarterly_ was precisely

that which had guided the projectors of its rival, 'to be conducted

totally independent of bookselling influence, on a plan as liberal as

that of the _Edinburgh_, its literature as well supported, and its

principles English and constitutional.' A great deal was, naturally

enough, said at the time about the political excesses of the _Edinburgh

Review_ as having caused the introduction of the _Quarterly_. But there

was no need to justify it on such grounds. Lord Cockburn in his _Life_

of Jeffrey sums up the argument with equal fairness and good sense when

he says, 'It was not this solitary article' (the 'Cevallos') 'that

produced the rival journal. Unless the public tone and doctrines (of

the _Edinburgh Review_) had been positively reversed, or party politics

altogether excluded, a periodical work in defence of Church, Tory, and

War principles, must have arisen; simply because the defence of these

principles required it. The defence was a consequence of the attack.

And it is fortunate that it was so. For besides getting these opinions

fairly discussed, the party excesses natural to any unchecked

publication were diminished; and a work arose which, in many respects,

is an honour to British literature, and has called out, and indirectly

reared, a great variety of the highest order of talent.'

Jeffrey himself, in writing to Horner for opinions of the new

_Quarterly_, disavows with creditable spirit any unworthy jealousy or

fear. He recognises the merit of the work, 'inspired, compared with the

poor prattle of Cumberland,' and admits that his 'natural indolence

would have been better pleased not to be always in sight of an alert and

keen antagonist.' But at the same time he rejoices in the idea of

seeing magazine literature improved, and congratulates himself on having

set the example.

Lord Cockburn expressly states that Jeffrey was himself the writer of

the unfortunate Cevallos article. It is curious and interesting, but not

so very surprising, to find an earnest and far-seeing man like Jeffrey

taking so despondent a view of British prospects in the Peninsula. It

must be remembered that the great burst of enthusiasm in this country

over the national rising of Spain against Napoleon was really, as every

one now knows, founded upon ignorance and exaggeration. It was

Jeffrey's chief crime that he ventured to doubt the patriotism and

efficiency of the Spaniards. He could not, of course, foresee what the

genius of Wellington was to effect, and he undoubtedly expected that

Napoleon would enter Ireland soon; 'and then' (he asks) 'how is England

to be kept?' Looking upon the conquest of the whole continent by France

as a practical certainty, he was for peace at any price, and

non-interference whatever happened elsewhere. It was his intention when

the catastrophe came, to try to go to America. 'I hate despotism and

insolence so much, that I could bear a great deal rather than live here

under Frenchmen and such wretches as will at first be employed by them.'

Such cold fears and calculations were apt to make his writings

distasteful in those excited times. The Cevallos article, in which he

flatly expressed despair of the vaunted 'regeneration' of Spain, capped

the whole. About twenty-five 'persons of consideration' in Edinburgh

forbade the _Review_ to enter their doors. The Earl of Buchan, a rather

vain and foolish character at the best, did more. He ordered the door

of his house in George Street to be set wide open, and the offending

number to be laid down on the lobby floor. Then, when all was ready,

his lordship solemnly kicked the volume out into the street.

In Scott's _Journal_, April 20, 1829, the death of this eccentric person

is noticed: 'Lord Buchan is dead, a person whose immense vanity,

bordering upon insanity, obscured, or rather eclipsed, very considerable

talents.... I felt something at parting with this old man, though but a

trumpery body. He gave me the first approbation I ever obtained from a

stranger. His caprice had led him to examine Dr. Adam's class when I, a

boy twelve years old, and then in disgrace for some aggravated case of

negligence, was called up from a low bench, and recited my lesson with

some spirit and appearance of feeling the poetry (it was the apparition

of Hector's ghost in the _Aeneid_) amid the noble Earl's applause. I

was very proud of this at the time.'

*CHAPTER XLV*

The Calton Jail--Opening of Waterloo Place--Removal of Old

Tolbooth--Scott purchases Land at Abbotsford--Professional

Income--Correspondence with Byron--Anecdote of the 'Flitting' from

Ashestiel.

In 1808-10 the new prison on the Calton Hill was built. It stands on a

magnificent site, the old 'Doo Craig.' All will agree with Lord

Cockburn's remark on the 'undoubted bad taste' of devoting that glorious

eminence, which ought to have had one of our noblest buildings, to a

jail. The east end of Princes Street was at that time closed in by a

line of mean houses running north and south. Beyond this all to the

east was occupied by the burying-ground, of which the south portion is

still maintained. The only access to the hill on this side was to go

down to the foot of Leith Street, and then climb 'the steep, narrow,

stinking, spiral street still to be seen there.' The necessity for an

easy access to the jail led to the construction of Waterloo Bridge. The

blocking houses were, of course, removed, and a level road carried along

to the Calton Hill. 'The effect,' says the author of the _Memorials_,

'was like the drawing up of the curtain in a theatre. But the bridge

would never have been where it is except for the jail. The lieges were

taxed for the prison; and luckily few of them were aware that they were

also taxed for the bridge as the prison's access. In all this

magnificent improvement, which in truth gave us the hill and all its

decoration, there was scarcely one particle of prospective taste. The

houses alongside the bridge were made handsome by the speculators for

their own interest; but the general effect of the new level opening into

Princes Street, and its consequences, were planned or foreseen by

nobody.'

In a few years after the erection of the Calton Jail, the Old Tolbooth,

the 'Heart of Midlothian,' was removed. Had it been preserved, it would

have been the prize relic of historical antiquity in Scotland. 'Was it

not for many years the place in which the Scottish parliament met? Was

it not James's place of refuge, when the mob, inflamed by a seditious

preacher, broke forth on him with the cries of "The sword of the Lord

and of Gideon--bring forth the wicked Haman"?' It stood, 'as is well

known to all men,' near the Cathedral, in the very middle of the High

Street, and the purpose of widening the street and opening up the

Cathedral was the excuse for its demolition. Scott describes it as

'antique in form, gloomy and haggard in aspect, its black stanchioned

windows opening through its dingy walls like the apertures of a hearse.'

Cockburn speaks of it as a most atrocious jail, the very breath of which

almost struck down any stranger who entered its dismal door; and as

ill-placed as possible, without one inch of ground beyond its black and

horrid walls. And these walls were very small; the entire hole being

filled with little dark cells; heavy manacles the only security;

airless, waterless, drainless; a living grave. But yet I wish the

building had been spared.' The only memorial of it now is a heart in

the street formed of particoloured stones, showing where the door of the

prison stood. At Abbotsford may be seen, decorating the entrance of the

kitchen court, the stones of the old gateway, and also the door itself

with its ponderous fastenings.

In the summer of 1811 Scott made his first purchase of land at

Abbotsford. The name was taken from a ford in the Tweed just above the

influx of Gala Water. The whole of the lands round there had at one time

belonged to the Abbey of Melrose. The property had sunk into a state of

great neglect under an absentee owner. The land was neither drained,

properly enclosed, nor even fully reclaimed. The house was small, with

a kailyard at one end and a barn at the other. But Scott in his mind's

eye already saw it all as he intended it to be. With boyish delight in

the prospect of realising his one innocent ambition, he writes to his

brother-in-law: 'I have bought a property extending along the banks of

the River Tweed for about half a mile. This is the greatest incident

which has lately taken place in our domestic concerns, and I assure you

we are not a little proud of being greeted as _laird_ and _lady of

Abbotsford_. We will give a grand gala when we take possession of it,

and as we are very clannish in this corner, all the Scotts in the

country, from the Duke to the peasant, shall dance on the green to the

bagpipes, and drink whisky punch.'

At the beginning of the next year, January 1812, Scott came into his

salary as Clerk of Session. He had now a professional income of L1600 a

year. Why, then, was he not to buy land and become a laird?

In this year began that correspondence with Byron which connects so

pleasantly the names of the two most popular poets of the day. In one

letter he mentions that he was staying in the gardener's hut at

Abbotsford. Alterations were going on apace, and besides raising the

roof and projecting some of the lower windows, a rustic porch, a

supplemental cottage at one end, and a fountain to the south, soon made

their appearance. Here is the 'laird's' amusing account of his

'flitting' from Ashestiel: 'The neighbours have been much delighted with

the procession of my furniture, in which old swords, bows, targets, and

lances made a very conspicuous show. A family of turkeys was

accommodated within the helmet of some _preux_ chevalier of ancient

border fame; and the very cows, for aught I know, were bearing banners

and muskets. I assure your ladyship that this caravan, attended by a

dozen of ragged rosy peasant children, carrying fishing-rods and spears,

and leading ponies, greyhounds, and spaniels, would, as it crossed the

Tweed, have furnished no bad subject for the pencil, and really reminded

me of the gypsey groups of Callot upon their march.'

*CHAPTER XLVI*

Scott and the Actors--Kemble, Siddons, Terry--Terry's Imitation of 'the

Shirra'--Anecdote of Terry and C. Mathews--Mathews in Edinburgh--'The

Reign of Scott'--Anecdotes of his Children--Excursion to the Western

Isles.

A very remarkable feature of Edinburgh society at this period was the

free admittance to the best houses of the chief actors of the time.

Scott was particularly fond of their company. Charles Young, in 1803,

seems to have been the first of these theatrical friends. Later came

John Philip Kemble and his incomparable sister, Mrs. Siddons. Scott

used to say that Kemble was the only man who ever seduced him into very

deep potations in his middle life. Through his intimacy with Kemble,

Scott was led to take an interest in getting Henry Siddons, Kemble's

nephew, to take on the lease and management of the Edinburgh Theatre.

He purchased a share, became a trustee, and continued to take much

interest in the affairs of the company. Daniel Terry also was a friend

of Scott's. Both Terry and Kemble were highly educated men, and were

well read in the old literature of the drama. Terry was also, like

Scott, an enthusiast in the antiquities of _vertu_. Terry was remarkable

for his apparently involuntary imitation of Scott, whom he almost

worshipped. In particular, he acquired the power of imitating his

handwriting so closely that Lockhart says their letters, lying before

him, appeared as if they had all been written by one person. Scott

himself used to say that, if he were called on to swear to any document,

the utmost he could venture to attest would be, that it was either in

his own hand or in Terry's. Their common friends were much amused at

the approximation of Terry to a replica of Scott in facial tricks and

gravity of expression, and even in tone and accent. It is this that

gives point to an anecdote of Terry and Charles Mathews. They happened

to be thrown out of a gig together, and Mathews received an injury which

made him lame for life, while Terry escaped unhurt. 'Dooms, _Dauniel_,'

said Mathews when they next met, 'what a pity that it wasna your luck to

get the game leg, mon! Your Shirra would hae been the very thing, ye

ken, an' ye wad hae been croose till ye war coffined.'

Mathews was in Edinburgh in the spring of 1812, when he seems to have

been greatly delighted with his success. On April 13th he wrote to his

wife: 'Edinburgh turned out as delightful as Glasgow was horrible.

Beautiful weather--good society--had the luck to see the superfine

patterns of the Scotch; and the warmest reception I ever yet met with,

because I have considered an Edinburgh audience so difficult to please.

Hundreds turned away at my benefit. I reckon Edinburgh an annuity to me

for the future.'

Scott's popularity as a poet was about this time at its highest. This

period (1811) was, as Byron said, 'the reign of Scott.' He had reached

his poetical apogee with the publication of the _Lady of the Lake_, the

most successful of all his poems. In Edinburgh, by James Ballantyne's

habit of reading portions to select friends while the work was printing,

the highest expectations had been excited. Cadell, the publisher,

testifies that, when it appeared, the country rang with the praises of

the poet. 'Crowds' (he says) 'set off to view the scenery of Loch

Katrine, till then comparatively unknown: and as the book came out just

before the season for excursions, every house and inn in that

neighbourhood was crammed with a constant succession of visitors. It is

a well-ascertained fact, that from the date of the publication of the

_Lady of the Lake_, the post-horse duty in Scotland rose in an

extraordinary degree, and indeed it continued to do so regularly for a

number of years, the author's succeeding works keeping up the enthusiasm

for our scenery which he had thus originally created.' Within a year no

fewer than 20,000 copies of the poem were sold.

Scott, as is well known, was always too modest and sensible to be, even

at the height of success, 'a partisan of his own poetry.' John

Ballantyne is the authority for a very surprising instance of this. 'I

remember,' he says, 'going into his library shortly after the

publication of the _Lady of the Lake_, and finding Miss Scott (who was

then a very young girl) there by herself. I asked her--"Well, Miss

Sophia, how do you like the _Lady of the Lake_?" Her answer was given

with perfect simplicity--"Oh, I have not read it: papa says there's

nothing so bad for young people as reading bad poetry."'

Lockhart adds that the children in those days of childhood really did

not know that their father was in any way distinguished above the other

gentlemen of his profession who were their visitors and friends. He caps

Ballantyne's story with another: 'The eldest boy, Walter, came home one

afternoon from the High School, with tears and blood hardened together

upon his cheeks.--"Well, Wat," said his father, "what have you been

fighting about to-day?" The boy blushed and hung his head, and at last

stammered out--that he had been called a _lassie_. "Indeed!" said Mrs.

Scott, "this was a terrible mischief, to be sure." "You may say what

you please, mamma," Wat answered roughly, 'but I dinna think there's a

waufer (shabbier) thing in the world than to be a lassie, to sit boring

at a clout.' Upon further inquiry it turned out that one or two of his

companions had dubbed him the _Lady of the Lake_, and the phrase was to

him incomprehensible, save as conveying some imputation on his prowess,

which he accordingly vindicated in the usual style of the Yards. Of the

poem he had never before heard. Shortly after, this story having got

wind, one of Scott's colleagues of the Clerks' Table said to the

boy--who was in the home circle called _Gilnockie_, from his admiration

of Johnny Armstrong--"Gilnockie, my man, you cannot surely help seeing

that great people make more work about your papa than they do about me

or any other of your _uncles_--what is it do you suppose that occasions

this?" The little fellow pondered for a minute or two, and then

answered very gravely--"It's commonly _him_ that sees the hare sitting."

And yet this was the man who had his children all along so very much

with him.'

It was at this time, while his heart was in a glow with happiness, that

he made his famous excursion to the Western Isles. The Laird of Staffa,

whose hospitality he celebrates, was the elder brother of his colleague

Macdonald Buchanan. The Laird was an ideal specimen of the old Highland

chief, 'living among a people distractedly fond of him.'

*CHAPTER XLVII*

_Waverley_ laid aside--_Rokeby_--Excitement at Oxford--Ballantyne's

Dinner--Scott's Idea of Byron as a Poet--Ballantyne's Mismanagement--Aid

from Constable--Loan from the Duke--Scott decides to finish _Waverley_.

On his return from the Hebrides, while rummaging one morning for flies

in an old desk, Scott came upon a manuscript, long since laid aside,

containing the first two or three chapters of _Waverley_. It was now

taken out, and shown to James Ballantyne. But he was only faintly

confident of success, and the packet containing Caesar's fortunes was

again laid by.

The poem of _Rokeby_ occupied Scott in 1812. In Edinburgh we see James

Ballantyne again reading from the sheets to his select circle of

critics. The effect is not quite satisfactory. The _Lady of the Lake_

has spoiled Edinburgh. Enthusiasm is gone. But not so in England.

Look at this picture of Lockhart's: 'I well remember, being in those

days a young student at Oxford, how the booksellers' shops there were

beleaguered for the earliest copies, and how he that had been so

fortunate as to secure one was followed to his chambers by a tribe of

friends, all as eager to hear it read as ever horse-jockeys were to see

the conclusion of a race at Newmarket; and indeed not a few of those

enthusiastic academics had bets depending on the issue of the struggle,

which they considered the elder favourite as making to keep his own

ground against the fiery rivalry of _Childe Harold_.'

All anxiety as to the sale of _Rokeby_ was soon allayed. The three

thousand quartos of the first edition were exhausted on the day of

publication, the 13th of January 1813. Scott's letter to his friend

Morritt, the proprietor of Rokeby, shows relief. He mentions

Ballantyne's 'christening dinner,' and gaily wishes 'we could whistle

you here to-day.' These dinners were great events, 'at which the Duke

of Buccleuch and a great many of my friends are formally feasted. He

has always the best singing that can be heard in Edinburgh, and we have

usually a very pleasant party, at which your health as patron and

proprietor of Rokeby will be faithfully and honourably remembered.' By

Morritt at least _Rokeby_ was considered a masterpiece.

The comparison of Scott and Byron, and the popular pitting of the one

against the other, was inevitable. The first two cantos of _Childe

Harold_, published in March 1812, had obtained a marvellous success. It

was of this that Byron said, 'I awoke one morning, and found myself

famous.' In such popularity Scott alone was his rival. But the two

poets equally disapproved the talk of competition. Speaking of a debate

of this kind between Murray and Ellis, Byron said, 'If they want to

depose Scott, I only wish they would not set me up as a competitor. I

like the man, and all such stuff can only vex him, and do me no good.'

In this manly spirit he might have spoken for both.

No one appreciated more fully than did Scott the genius of the author of

_Childe Harold_. He seems from the first sight of that poem to have

been satisfied in his own mind of Byron's pre-eminent powers in poetry.

He had no desire, as he says, 'to measure his force with so formidable

an antagonist,' but he determined to go on with the work he had planned,

and already it is evident that his thoughts were turning vaguely towards

some other literary form, in which the youthful ardour which he thought

was cooling might be less essential to success.

In this year of commercial panic, 1813, Scott began to experience the

worries and discomforts which flow from a speculative commercial

adventure shamelessly neglected by a reckless and incompetent 'manager.'

The crisis was already bringing the less substantial publishing houses

into danger, and the firm of John Ballantyne and Co. was soon reduced to

extremity. Two features are mentioned by Lockhart which sufficiently

show how well fitted John Ballantyne was to organise disaster: his blind

recklessness in regard to bills--he never looked beyond the passing

day--and his absolute neglect to keep the moneyed partner informed of

his obligations and of the state of the firm's resources. In Lockhart's

opinion the concern must have gone to pieces at this time but for the

reconciliation with Constable. He relieved Ballantyne of part of his

stock, on the understanding that the firm should, as soon as possible,

be finally wound up. In these distressing affairs it is too sadly easy

to understand the whole drama. From his beautiful and now unspeakably

touching letters we can picture the good soft-hearted gentleman

crediting the adventurer with all his own unselfishness and fine

sensitiveness, pointing out with an apology errors of conduct which

deserved immediate dismissal with disgrace, and lamenting possible

consequences to _him_, to the needy ruined adventurer who had found a

haven of refuge in a business to which he had actually brought no

capital at all. To make a phrase out of Spencerian jargon, Scott was

the dupe of automorphism. His sense of duty to the imaginary

Ballantynes made him the victim of the actual ones. He ought at this

time to have kicked both of them out, put the affairs of both concerns

into the hands of professional accountants, and considered the

situation. But there was the secrecy as well as the automorphic

delusion. Then he went on, of course, buying land. He was making

money, and he _ought_ to have been able to spend. But if a genius can

make one fortune, a reckless trifler can waste ten. It is dreadful even

yet to think of Walter Scott, of all our great ones the _best_, slaving

and dreaming innocent Alnaschar dreams, while a Ballantyne, without any

toil at all, is piling up mountains of debt to overwhelm him. By the

end of the year, John's calls upon Scott necessitated more help from

Constable and a loan to Scott from the Duke of Buccleuch of L4000. The

publishing business was to be given up at once, and the amateur

publisher was to start as an auctioneer of books and curios. During this

time of vexation and worry, Scott was constantly engaged in toilsome and

taxing labour on an edition and life of Swift, and also made a beginning

with the _Lord of the Isles_. Just then, too, the fragment of

_Waverley_ turned up once more. He read it, judged it this time for

himself without advice, and decided to finish it.

*CHAPTER XLVIII*

Success of the Allies--Address to the King--Freedom of

Edinburgh--Edition of Swift--Printing of _Waverley_--Mystery of

Authorship--Edinburgh Guesses--Excellent Review by Jeffrey--Scott's

'gallant composure'--Success of the Novel.

'O, dread was the time, and more dreadful the omen,

When the brave on Marengo lay slaughtered in vain,

And beholding broad Europe bow'd down by her foemen,

Pitt closed in his anguish the map of her reign.'

The song which begins thus was written by Scott about the close of 1813,

inspired by the great successes of the Allies. On the magistrates of

Edinburgh presenting an address to the King, Scott indited one for them

which was privately acknowledged to himself as 'the most elegant

congratulation a sovereign ever received or a subject offered.' It is

gratifying to know that the magistrates were duly grateful for the

service, which secured for them an extremely cordial reception at

Carlton House. At Christmas 1813 Scott was presented with the freedom

of the city and a very handsome piece of plate.

He had now been working for five or six years on the great edition of

Swift in nineteen volumes, which came out in the summer of 1814. It was

reviewed in the _Edinburgh_ by Jeffrey at Constable's special request.

The review contained an attack on the character of Swift so able and

incisive as, in Constable's opinion, to have greatly retarded the sale

of the work. But Jeffrey's appreciation of the editor and his work was

admirable: giving him the frankest praise for 'minute knowledge and

patient research, vigour of judgment and vivacity of style.' Of the

_Life_ he said most justly: 'It is not much like the production of a

mere man of letters, but exhibits the good sense and large toleration of

a man of the world, with much of that generous allowance for the

"Fears of the brave and follies of the wise,"

which genius too often requires, and should therefore be always most

forward to show.' Meantime the latter 'genius' was preparing the great

new stroke for fame which was now to extinguish all lesser lights in a

blaze of unexpected glory. Early in the year Ballantyne had printed the

first volume of _Waverley_. With the precaution regularly exercised all

through, the MS. was copied by John Ballantyne before being sent to

press. The printed volume was taken by John to Constable, who made the

very liberal offer of L700 for the copyright. Scott's remark was that

L700 was too much if the novel should not be successful, and too little

if it should. But he added, 'If our fat friend had said L1000, I should

have been staggered.' Fortunately Constable doubted, and lost the

opportunity, an agreement being ultimately made for an equal division of

profits between him and the author. The authorship was, of course, not

hidden from 'our fat friend.' He published, therefore, on the 7th of

July, what Scott, writing two days after to Morritt, called 'a small

anonymous sort of a novel.' Even then, it seems, 'it had made a very

strong impression here, and the good people of Edinburgh are busy in

tracing the author.... Jeffrey has offered to make oath that it is

mine.' Later on, replying to Morritt's protests, he says, 'I shall not

own _Waverley_; my chief reason is, that it would prevent me the

pleasure of writing again. David Hume, the nephew of the historian,

says the author must be of a Jacobite family and predilections, a

yeoman-cavalry man, and a Scottish lawyer, and desires me to guess in

whom these happy attributes are united. I shall not plead guilty,

however.... The Edinburgh faith is, that _Waverley_ was written by

Jeffrey.... The second edition is, I believe, nearly through the press.

It will hardly be printed faster than it was written; for though the

first volume was begun long ago, and actually lost for a time, yet the

other two were begun and finished between the 4th June and the 1st July,

during all which I attended my duty in court, and proceeded without loss

of time or hinderance of business.'

We have an admirable picture from Lord Cockburn of the impression made

in Edinburgh by this memorable event, and the sensations, as he puts it,

produced by the first year of these Edinburgh works. 'It is curious,'

he says, 'to remember the instant and universal impression in Edinburgh.

The unexpected newness of the thing, the profusion of original

characters, the Scotch language, Scotch scenery, Scotch men and women,

the simplicity of the writing, and the graphic force of the

descriptions, all struck us with an electric shock of delight. If the

concealment of the authorship of the novels was intended to make mystery

heighten their effect, it completely succeeded. The speculations and

conjectures, and nods and winks and predictions and assertions were

endless, and occupied every company, and almost every two men who met

and spoke in the street. It was proved by a thousand indications, each

refuting the other, and all equally true in fact, that they were written

by old Henry Mackenzie, and by George Cranstoun, and William Erskine,

and Jeffrey, and above all by Thomas Scott, Walter's brother, a

regimental paymaster, then in Canada. But "the great unknown," as the

true author was then called, always took good care, with all his

concealment, to supply evidence amply sufficient for the protection of

his property and his fame; in so much that the suppression of the name

was laughed at as a good joke not merely by his select friends in his

presence, but by himself. The change of line, at his age, was a

striking proof of intellectual power and richness. But the truth is,

that these novels were rather the outpourings of old thoughts than new

inventions.'

From the very first the secret of the authorship was known to quite a

number of persons, indeed to all Scott's intimates, and, in Lockhart's

own opinion, the mystification never answered much purpose among other

literary men of eminence. He thinks that all Scott wished was 'to set

the mob of readers at gaze, and, above all, to escape the annoyance of

having productions, actually known to be his, made the daily and hourly

topics of discussion in his presence. All the critics, with the

exception of the savage _Quarterly_, were able to see that _Waverley_

was a great, an uncommon work. The author was at once acknowledged to

be a genius. Foremost and frankest was Jeffrey, who began, 'It is a

wonder what genius and adherence to nature will do.' The reviewer has,

of course, many small and petty things to say, he has not yet

surrendered himself fully to the great enchanter, but he clearly sees

and heartily enjoys the points of real greatness--the creation of living

characters and the marvellous resurrection of the period and its social

state. He says what is a thing most true of Scott, that the work by the

mere force of truth and vivacity of its colouring takes its place rather

with the most popular of our modern poems than with the rubbish of

provincial romances. This point, that the book was founded upon actual

experience and observation, he strongly emphasises. This was what Scott

of all possible authors possessed in the highest degree, and Jeffrey was

quite certain that _Waverley_ was Scott's. He concludes by saying that

it is hard to see why the book should have been anonymous: if the author

really was an 'unknown' personage, then Mr. Scott would have to look to

his laurels against a sturdier competitor than any he had as yet

encountered.

Such was the reception of _Waverley_: a reception not unworthy of a

masterpiece. And it is worth while to remark once again the 'gallant

composure' of the writer who had staked his fame and fortune on an

experiment so new, uncertain, and dangerous. Before he had heard of its

fate in England, he set out on a voyage to the Hebrides, Orkney and

Shetland, so that he was practically cut off from letters and news for

nearly two months. When he returned, he found that two editions of

_Waverley_ had been sold.

*CHAPTER XLIX*

The _Lord of the Isles_--_Guy Mannering_--Universal Delight--Effects of

Peace in Scotland--Awakening of Public Opinion in Edinburgh--'Civic

War'--Professor Duncan--Sketch by Lord Cockburn.

The month of January 1815 saw the publication of Scott's _Lord of the

Isles_. On the 24th of February a second novel--_Guy Mannering_--was

issued, by the Author of _Waverley_. Detailed dates given by Lockhart

show that the novel was literally written, as Scott himself said, 'in

six weeks at a Christmas.' Writing to Morritt on January 15, he says,

'I want to shake myself free of _Waverley_, and accordingly have made a

considerable exertion to finish an odd little tale within such time as

will mystify the public, I trust--unless they suppose me to be

Briareus.' The biographer adds that this excess of labour was the

result of difficulties about the discount of John Ballantyne's bills.

The _Lord of the Isles_, though amply successful from the point of view

of sale, was in point of reputation disappointing. On James

acknowledging this, Scott, we are told by James Ballantyne, 'did look

rather blank for a few seconds: in truth, he had been wholly unprepared

for the event; for it is a singular fact, that before the public, or

rather the booksellers, had given their decision, he no more knew

whether he had written well or ill, than whether a die thrown out of a

box was to turn up a size or an ace. However, he instantly resumed his

spirit, and expressed his wonder rather that his poetical popularity

should have lasted so long, than that it should have now at last given

way. At length he said, with perfect cheerfulness, "Well, well, James,

so be it--but you know we must not droop, for we can't afford to give

over. Since one line has failed, we must just stick to something else";

and so he dismissed me, and resumed this novel.' The reviews of the

_Lord of the Isles_, though rather severe on the structure of the poem

and the imperfections of the hero, did ample justice to the majestic

power and unfailing vigour of the story as well as to its rare

descriptive beauties. But most will now agree with Lockhart that the

best achievements in the book are the magnificent character of the

heroic King, and the Homeric battle-piece of Bannockburn.

The reception of _Guy Mannering_ in the following month amply made up

for this partial disappointment. In two days the first edition of 2000

copies was sold out. Within two or three months 5000 copies more were

called for. Curiosity doubtless stimulated the first demand. The

mystery was further deepened by the prefixing to the novel of a motto

from the _Lay_:

''Tis said that words and signs have power

O'er sprites in planetary hour;

But scarce I praise their venturous part,

Who tamper with such dangerous art'--

a device, as Scott said in 1829, for evading the guesses of certain

persons who had observed that the Author of _Waverley_ never quoted from

the poetry of Walter Scott. The verdict of readers went by acclamation.

There was no dissent as to the splendid qualities of the new novel. It

was simply a chorus of delight. Happy generation to have the _first_

enjoyment of the Shakespearian gallery of characters containing Dominie

Sampson, the Laird of Ellangowan, Pleydell, Dandie Dinmont, and Meg

Merrilies!

In this frame of mind, then, and in this blaze of glory, Walter Scott

passed on, with the rest, into the new generation and the changing

Edinburgh scene that followed and were products of the great European

peace of 1815. The effects of the peace were the same in Edinburgh as

elsewhere in the country. Cockburn has summarised them in these words:

'We got new things to speak about; and the entire disappearance of

drums, uniforms, and parades, changed our habits and appearance. We

were charmed at the moment by a striking sermon by Alison, and a

beautiful review by Jeffrey, on the cessation of the long struggle; the

chief charm of each being in the expression of the cordial and universal

burst of joy that hailed the supposed restoration of liberty to Europe,

and the downfall of the great soldier who was believed to be its only

tyrant. Old men, but especially those in whose memories the American war

ran into the French one, had only a dim recollection of what peace was;

and middle-aged men knew it now for the first time. The change in all

things, in all ideas, and conversation, and objects, was as complete as

it is in a town that has at last been liberated from a strict and

tedious siege.'

With the peace there began in Edinburgh some stirring of popular

interest in public questions. One of the first signs of it was the

great public meeting, held in July 1814, to protest against West Indian

Slavery. The meeting was non-political, being attended by sympathetic

persons of both parties. Yet it seems to have excited alarm, as an

indication of dangerous and unsettled feelings. A monster petition

resulted from this meeting, signed by ten or twelve thousand persons.

Some of the promoters of the petition had an amusing experience. They

found that many of the old Calvinistic Whigs would not sign any petition

to the _Lords Spiritual_. This was the real spirit of true-blue

Covenanters!

Over the New Town Dispensary, which was established in 1815, there raged

what Cockburn remembered as 'a civic war.' The vested interests and old

prejudices were up in arms against treating patients at their homes and

the election of office-bearers by subscribers. 'However, common sense

prevailed. The hated institution rose and flourished, and has had all

its defects imitated by its opponents.' Prominent in this incident was

Professor Andrew Duncan, an odd specimen of the curious old Edinburgh

characters. He is described as a kind-hearted and excellent man, but

'one of a class which seems to live and be happy, and get liked, by its

mere absurdities.' He figured as promoter and president of all sorts of

innocent crack-brained clubs and societies, and wrote pamphlets, poems,

epitaphs and jokes without end. His writings were all amiable, all

dull, and most of them very foolish, but they made the author happy.

The general respect and toleration for an eccentric like this throws a

strong light on the simplicity and broad-minded philosophy of the

'unreformed' city population of a hundred years ago. The following are

Lord Cockburn's recollections of Duncan:--

'He was even the president of a bathing club; and once at least every

year did this grave medical professor conduct as many of the members as

he could collect to Leith, where the rule was that their respect for

their chief was to be shown by always letting him plunge first from the

machine into the water. He continued, till he was past eighty, a

practice of mounting to the summit of Arthur's Seat on the 1st of May,

and celebrating the feat by what he called a poem. He was very fond of

gardening, and rather a good botanist. This made him president of the

Horticultural Society, which he oppressed annually by a dull discourse.

But in the last, or nearly the last, of them he relieved the members by

his best epitaph, being one upon himself. After mentioning his great

age, he intimated that the time must soon arrive when, in the words of

our inimitable Shakespeare, they would all be saying "Duncan is in his

grave."'

*CHAPTER L*

The New Town of Edinburgh in 1815--Effects of the 'Plan'--The Earthen

Mound--Criticisms by Citizens after the War--The New

Approaches--Destruction of City Trees--Lord Cockburn's Lament.

The New Town of Edinburgh, as seen by Scott and his contemporaries, was

simply a product of the mason. The houses were plain three-story

buildings, without ornament and without variety. They stood end-on in

long barrack-like blocks. 'Our jealousy of variety,' says Cockburn,

'and our association of magnificence with sameness, was really curious.

If a builder ever attempted (which, however, to do them justice, they

very seldom did) to deviate so far from the established paltriness as to

carry up the front wall so as to hide the projecting slates, or to break

the roof by a Flemish storm window, or to turn his gable to the street,

there was an immediate outcry; and if the law allowed our burgh Edile,

the Dean of Guild, to interfere, he was sure to do so.' Mere

convenience was the only guiding principle, and it was the same with the

famous 'Plan' for laying out the streets. Instead of taking a hint from

the strikingly picturesque irregularity of the romantic 'Old Town,' the

projectors studiously endeavoured to make everything as unlike it as

possible. The 'Plan' laid down the streets in long straight lines,

divided to an inch, and all to the same number of inches, by

intersecting straight lines at right angles.