portions of which are drawn from an interesting work on that period
written by Joshua Barnes, an antiquary of the seventeenth century--is
unfortunately more nearly on the level of _The Spaewife_ than on that of
_Ringan Gilhaize_. The book is not wanting in spirited scenes, but the
welding of history and romance is but imperfectly accomplished,
notwithstanding an abuse of breaks and gaps, abrupt transitions and
passages irrelevant to the main narrative. Then again, between the
machinations of the conscience-haunted Amias and his inscrutable
henchman Ralph, and the counter-machinations of the wily Adonijah, the
intricacies of the tale are so much too subtle as to end in puzzling the
reader himself. In a passage which may perhaps have been intended as a
sly hit at Scott, the author expressly disclaims any attempt to
reanimate the 'scenes of chivalry, and the pride, pomp, and panoply of
war,' or to restore the archaic language, or the 'fashions of the
draperies, or the ornaments and architecture in the background.' His
concern, he tells us, is not with such subordinate matters as these, but
directly with the human heart itself. For a poet or novelist the
position is a perfectly tenable one, and it is not to this but to the
fact that he lets us see that he does not take his work seriously, that
the author's failure is due. For into his lighter scenes an element of
burlesque, which had already peeped out in his last book, again obtrudes
itself; and burlesque, though a capital thing in its way, is here
entirely out of place. Neither could it under any circumstances be
supposed by a writer of historical fiction that the illusion which it is
his business to produce would be assisted by discussion of such topics
current at the time of writing as Sir Walter Scott's _Redgauntlet_, or
the question of the three-volume novel.
As under favourable conditions there is perhaps no form of labour more
delightful than literary work, so there can be none more sickening when
it is half-hearted or against the grain. Galt had now produced two
novels in succession in which it was but too apparent that his heart was
not, and he may well have felt weary of the work. Or their languor may
have been due to the fact that his interest had been drawn off in
another direction. At any rate, after a long and--if we judge it by its
best productions--an extremely brilliant spell at his desk, he now
practically abandoned it for some years to come. Well had it been, not
only for his best interests, but for his material happiness, had he
remained where he was!
The immediate occasion of this change in his life was as follows:--It
happened that some of the principal inhabitants of Canada, whose
property had sustained damage in the American War of 1814, had recently
become urgent in their claims for compensation from the mother country.
As the result of 'proceedings' on which the _Autobiography_ throws no
light, Galt was commissioned to act as agent in this country for the
injured parties, which commission he accepted, undaunted by the worry
and demands upon his time which it must necessarily entail, and set
zealously to work to get the claims allowed by the Treasury. He gained
his point subject to conditions, it being agreed by Government that the
demands of the claimants should be satisfied from the proceeds of the
sale of certain Crown lands in Canada known as the 'reserves.' To find
purchasers for this land now became Galt's object, and mainly through
his instrumentality the 'Canada Company' was formed. But in the
meantime, the inhabitants of Upper Canada, among whom party spirit ran
unusually high, having prejudiced their case with Government, it was
determined that the money realised by selling the reserves should be
devoted to other purposes. Thus Galt found himself defeated in his
object, and in this juncture he was persuaded to join the Canada Company
as a member. He was then appointed a Commissioner to determine the value
of the land to be purchased by the Company, and having crossed the
Atlantic, he proceeded to York, the capital of Upper Canada, where the
Commission prosecuted its enquiries. His health at the time was bad, but
his task was congenial. From boyhood he had nourished a hankering after
colonisation, and if we abate a few comparatively trifling dissensions,
his experiences at this time seem on the whole to have been agreeable.
In due course the Commissioners signed their report and returned to
England, only to receive the news that their labours had been
unexpectedly complicated by action taken by the Canadian clergy in
relation to the 'clergy reserves.' After some difficulty this matter
also was at length adjusted, and the Company having obtained its
Charter, Galt was deputed to return to Canada to superintend the
founding of the new colony. Whilst the affairs above-mentioned had been
under discussion, he had, however, found time to produce _The Omen_ and
_The Last of the Lairds_, two small but admirable works in contrasted
styles.
Indeed, the sustained excellence of the former suffices to constitute it
his masterpiece in the purely tragic vein. It is likewise in all
probability his most characteristic work, its unique and special claim
to attention consisting in the tense and lurid imaginative atmosphere
which the author has created and made to pervade his tale. Availing
himself of the autobiographical convention, and assuming a fantastic
dramatic guise, he gives the rein to his fancy and roams at large in a
world that is dominated by those presentiments, bodings, and subtle
hidden relations of things, which had always exercised so powerful a
fascination over his mind. And yet--what is of vital importance in the
effect which he obtains--these portents are never allowed to lead us
away from the firm earth, or from actual life. From the very first the
reader is brought under the potent spell of the author's imagination,
and so perfect is the art that ever as the dark tale unfolds the
author's grip gains in strength. There are passages of fervid and gloomy
eloquence in the writing which recall nothing in literature so much as
Chateaubriand's masterpiece, and it is notable that, whilst in other
respects the two stories are entirely distinct, the mysterious and
repellent point on which they turn is one. _Rene_ was almost pure
autobiography, and it is plain to those who have studied Galt's more
intimate utterances that into _The Omen_ he threw much of what was moody
and fantastic in his own mind and personality.
_The Last of the Lairds_ is a pleasant comedy of old Scotch manners,
rich in the masterly painting of old Scotch character. The plot turns on
the making up by busybodies of a match between a withered spinster and
an elderly, partly imbecile, and ruined landlord--the threatened
ugliness of the theme being averted by a gaiety rare in Galt's work, and
also--as in the case of some of Hogarth's pictures--by sheer skill and
power displayed in the characterisation. The contrasted meddlers, the
bride and her sister, the Nabob, and the Laird's Jock are all of them
capital; whilst the Laird himself, though failing to attain the breadth
and dignity proper to a type, is at least a good and by no means
ungenial portrait. The change wrought in him by marriage, if surprising,
is not incredible, and serves to pave the way for the welcome happy
ending. This book, which was left incomplete by Galt when he returned to
America, received some finishing touches from his friend Moir, though
the hand of the latter cannot be said to be traceable in its pages.
Late in the year 1826, the author returned to Canada, having already, by
his own account, some grounds for believing that he was regarded with
hostility. Whether these suspicions were purely morbid or not it is
impossible to say, but a general consideration of his fitness for the
work to which he had chosen to devote his life may not be out of place.
There is every reason to believe that he was afterwards harshly and
unjustly used; yet judging solely from what he himself has told of
himself, one must allow that he was not precisely the sort of man to
select for the discharge of important public business. That his ability
was extraordinary, and his power of work immense, has been amply
established; none the less does it remain true that in certain qualities
not less essential to business he was positively defective. Morbidly
sensitive, he lacked the wisdom to control his feelings under a sense of
injury, and was too much inclined to form conclusions, and to act, upon
impulse. In addition to this, imagination or fancy--of which, in a world
constituted as ours is, the mere suspicion will often suffice to
prejudice a man in his dealings with his fellow-men--was far too active
a power in his brain. But, to leave such considerations as are grounded
upon character and revert to substantial facts, what was the assumption
from Galt's previous history as a man of business? That history reveals
a goodly number of schemes and of attempts, scarce one of which but had
proved abortive or a failure. Surely, if he was in truth a competent
business man, ill-luck must have pursued him with uncommon pertinacity;
and even allowing this to have been the case, he will still stand
condemned as a wretched judge of the chances of success inherent in any
given business concern. The years at which we have now arrived were the
most momentous in his life as a man; but in a sketch of his literary
career, such as the present, their place is subordinate.
Haunted by presentiments of evil even at the time of leaving home, Galt
had scarcely reached Canada when his troubles began. In fact his
differences with Sir Peregrine Maitland, the Lieutenant-Governor of the
province, date from the morning after his arrival. Of this disagreement
it is sufficient to say that Galt was not the aggressor, though very
likely his previous conduct had been less wary than behoved for one in
his delicate position. Certainly, with all due sympathy for a
much-suffering man of genius, it cannot be asserted that his temperament
was one calculated to smooth away difficulties, or, where self-love was
concerned, to carry him pleasantly out of a misunderstanding. The
Governor, besides suspecting him of unfriendliness to the Government,
was jealous of a supposed inclination to interfere in public matters
outside his sphere; and though these suspicions were alike groundless,
it unfortunately happened that a communication which Galt had addressed
to the editor of an opposition journal afforded a specific ground of
complaint. Here, at once, were all the materials for a very pretty
quarrel.
A visit to Quebec, however, brought more agreeable experiences, social
and adventurous. Thence Galt proceeded to York, to commence the duties
of his mission. He was now practically in sole charge of the business of
the Company, but he seems to have felt quite equal to his
responsibilities, and when winter was over he decided to begin
operations by founding a city in the Company's territory. Determined to
clothe the occasion with as much impressiveness as possible, and having
selected St George's Day as an auspicious date, he accordingly travelled
to the appointed site--the last nine miles of the journey lying within
the primeval forest. Here is his account of the proceedings:--
'It was consistent with my plan to invest our ceremony with a little
mystery, the better to make it be remembered. So intimating that the
main body of the men were not to come, we walked to the brow of the
neighbouring rising ground, and Mr Prior having shown the site
selected for the town, a large maple tree was chosen; on which,
taking an axe from one of the woodmen, I struck the first stroke. To
me at least the moment was impressive,--and the silence of the
woods, that echoed to the sound, was as the sigh of the solemn
genius of the wilderness departing for ever. The doctor followed me,
then, if I recollect correctly, Mr Prior, and the woodmen finished
the work. The tree fell with a crash of accumulating thunder, as if
ancient Nature were alarmed at the entrance of social man into her
innocent solitudes with his sorrows, his follies, and his crimes. I
do not suppose that the sublimity of the occasion was unfelt by the
others, for I noticed that after the tree fell, there was a funereal
pause, as when the coffin is lowered into the grave; it was,
however, of short duration, for the doctor pulled a flask of whisky
from his bosom, and we drank prosperity to the City of Guelph.'
The name was chosen in compliment to the Royal Family. To matter-of-fact
minds the characteristic tone of this passage may appear dangerously
poetical, so perhaps it is well to add that the site of the new city had
been most judiciously chosen. Occupying a tongue of land projecting into
a river, almost in the centre of the district which separates the lakes
of Ontario, Simcoe, Huron, and Erie, the infant township enjoyed
extraordinary facilities for communication. It became prosperous, and
within the space of forty-five years its population had reached the
total of 50,000.
Galt now threw himself with great zeal and energy into his work, which
was on a grand scale and of a stimulating character, and, besides the
founding of cities, included the felling of forests, exploration, and
the naming of places unnamed. To a voyage undertaken for the purpose of
finding a harbour on Lake Huron, was due the origin of the now
flourishing city of Goderich. Of course the romance of this sort of
life, together with the sense it gave him of playing an important part
in the spread of civilisation, were agreeable and flattering to Galt;
but in other respects his position was not without drawbacks. Those
symptoms of troubles to come which had so early presented themselves to
him had by no means disappeared; whilst, as he assures us, secret
enemies were also at work against him. There were not wanting signs of
friction between the Government and the Directors of the Company, the
stock of the latter fell to a discount, and the Directors thereupon
taxed their Commissioner with extravagance in the carrying out of his
plans. He began to find himself subjected to petty annoyances, and at
this time an incident in which he had humanely, but perhaps
injudiciously, befriended some helpless emigrants served further to
embroil matters.
In this juncture, he received a private warning to expect a reprimand
from his Directors. No doubt there were faults on both sides, but
conscious that he had done his best, and smarting under the injustice of
being assumed unheard to be in fault, he placed his resignation in the
hands of a friend. The friend, however, decided not to present it, and
Galt therefore continued his labours as before, evincing an astonishing
fertility in projects and ideas, of which we may suppose a fair
proportion to have been applicable enough to his circumstances.
Unfortunately causes of annoyance continued to flow in upon him, and it
was evident that a climax was not far off.
The spectacle now afforded by the _Autobiography_ is a melancholy one.
It is that of a gifted and generous-minded, though unduly irritable,
man-of-letters entangled in toils of red-tape, and in the meantime
exposed to the darts of his enemies. In such a contest--though in some
respects Galt was a giant pitted against pigmies--it was a foregone
conclusion that he must come off second-best. Matters were precipitated
by the Directors appointing an accountant to assist him in his duties.
The conduct of this person supplied grounds for a belief that he was
authorised to exercise surveillance over the Superintendent, and such a
position being intolerable, Galt resolved to return to England. Indeed
he found himself driven to the conclusion that it was intended to break
up the Company, and that his own removal from office would be a step
towards that end. Unfortunately he was destined to undergo treatment
even less agreeable than that which he anticipated. Circumstances
having compelled him to defer his return to England, he paid a final
visit to Goderich, and had arrived at New York on his homeward journey
when he was informed that he had been superseded. As he had been on the
point of retiring from the service, his material position remained
practically unaffected. But his resignation, if indeed it were
irrevocably determined on, had certainly not been publicly announced,
and to a man of his temperament it must have been gall and wormwood to
have forcibly taken from him even though 'twere but that which he was
ready to resign. No wonder that he felt himself to have been treated
with the vilest ingratitude. 'The Canada Company,' he writes, 'had
originated in my suggestions, it was established by my endeavours,
organised in disregard of many obstacles by my perseverance, and, though
extensive and complicated in its scheme, a system was formed by me upon
which it could be with ease conducted. Yet without the commission of any
fault, for I dare every charge of that kind, I was destined to reap from
it only troubles and mortifications, and something which I feel as an
attempt to disgrace me.'[7]
The writer of the article, before referred to, in the Dictionary of
National Biography has spoken of the _Autobiography_ as 'remarkable for
self-complacency.' It is, therefore, only fair to state that the value
which Galt puts upon his own services as a colonial organiser is not
unsupported by testimony from without. The report of a local expert,
incorporated in Galt's narrative, testifies not only to the intrinsic
excellence of his system, but to the success attending it; whilst an
address of gratitude and good wishes presented by the settlers in the
new city bears witness to the personal estimation in which they held
him. Indeed one of the main causes of his failure seems to have been
that he took too high a view of his own mission, aspiring to aim at the
good of humanity, where his associates and principals were content to
contemplate gain: a Quixote set to perform the work of a Board composed
of Sancho Panzas. Even at this date, had he been informed at once that
his dismissal must be regarded as final, he would have been spared some
suffering. But his agony--the term is scarcely an exaggeration--was
prolonged by suspense and by unavailing struggles. And finally, as if
anything were yet wanting to complete the irony of his position, he
lived to see the Company which he had himself founded, and in the
service of which three of the best years of his life had been spent,
develop into a flourishing concern, yielding abundant profits in which
he had no share.
Misfortunes come not singly, and the fall of the lion is the opportunity
of meaner creatures. The determining of his connection with the Canada
Company had hit Galt severely in his pecuniary circumstances. He now
found himself unable to meet the claims which were made upon him, and at
the suit of a certain Dr Valpy of Reading, one of the oldest of his
English acquaintances, to whom he owed the paltry sum of L80 for the
education of his sons, he was presently arrested. Conscious as he was of
unimpeachable probity of intention, and marking, as in his Utopian way
he did, a distinction between law and justice, he felt this last
indignity keenly. He, however, made no sign, but endured with
imperturbable stoicism a long period of confinement. None the
less--partly by the physical restraint to which he was so little
accustomed, partly, as he himself with only too much show of
probability suggests, by distress of mind--his constitution was
irreparably injured. He was now entirely dependent on his pen, and
though his literary activity continued as great as before, the literary
fruits which he put forth had lost the fineness of their old savour. Of
this he seems to have been aware, for he has put on record the fact that
his later novels were written to please the public, not himself, and
that he would not wish to be estimated by them. For our purpose,
therefore, a hasty glance at them may suffice.
In 1830 he published _Lawrie Todd_, a tale of life in the backwoods,
which, with _Bogle Corbet, or The Emigrants_, (1831), was founded upon
fact, and designed by the author to serve the double purpose of amusing
the general reader and conveying reliable information to those
practically interested in the American colonies. _Southennan_, a tale of
the days of Mary Queen of Scots, also published in 1830, was inspired by
the tradition associated with a romantic old mansion-house, which had
impressed Galt's fancy in youth. In the same year he also produced his
_Life of Byron_, of which--so keen was public interest in the subject at
the time--three editions were exhausted in as many months. The author's
view of the noble poet's character has been already indicated; his work
has, however, been pronounced 'valueless.' About this time he also acted
as editor of _The Courier_, a Tory newspaper; but, finding the work
uncongenial, after a few months abandoned it. In 1831, by way of a
change of employment, at the suggestion of Lockhart, who was always a
good friend to him, he put together his amusing _Lives of the Players_.
In the same year he took up his abode at Brompton--a suburb in those
days not yet absolutely devoid of the charms of the country--where for
some three or four years to come he occupied Old Barnes Cottage, a
somewhat dilapidated building, but one which possessed the invaluable
appendage of a large and pleasant garden.
It was at this time that Carlyle met him at a dinner-party at the house
of Fraser, the publisher, and wrote a description of him. But before
quoting this sketch, we may give that of Moir, penned some eight years
earlier. At that time, according to the Doctor's testimony, Galt was 'in
the full vigour of health,' a man of herculean frame, over six feet in
height and inclining to corpulency, with jet-black hair as yet
ungrizzled, nose almost straight, small but piercing eyes, and finely
rounded chin. When Carlyle saw him, trouble had already told upon him.
'Galt looks old,' he writes,[8] 'is deafish, has the air of a sedate
Greenock burgher; mouth indicating sly humour and self-satisfaction; the
eyes, old and without lashes, gave me a sort of wae interest for him....
Said little, but that little peaceable, clear and _gutmuethig_. Wish to
see him again.' This account he supplemented a month later as follows:
'A broad gawsie Greenock man, old-growing, lovable with pity.'