CHAPTER VII {p.169}

First Expedition into Liddesdale. -- Study of German. --

Political Trials, etc. -- Specimen of Law Papers. --

Bürger's Lenore Translated. -- Disappointment in Love.

1792-1796.

Scott was called to the Bar only the day before the closing of the

session, and he appears to have almost immediately escaped to the

country. On the 2d of August I find his father writing,--"I have sent

the copies of your _thesis_ as desired;" and on the 15th he addressed

to him at Rosebank a letter, in which there is this paragraph, an

undoubted autograph of Mr. Saunders Fairford, _anno ætatis_

sixty-three:--

"DEAR WALTER,--... I am glad that your expedition to the west

proved agreeable. You do well to warn your mother against

Ashestiel. Although I said little, yet I never thought that road

could be agreeable; besides, it is taking too wide a circle. Lord

Justice-Clerk is in town attending the Bills.[94] He called here

yesterday, and inquired very particularly for you. I told him

where you was, and he expects to see you at Jedburgh upon the

21st. He is to be at Mellerstain[95] on the 20th, and will be

there all night. His Lordship said, in a very pleasant manner,

that something might cast up at Jedburgh to give you an

opportunity of appearing, and that he would insist upon it,

{p.170} and that in future he meant to give you a share of the

criminal business in this Court,--all which is very kind. I told

his Lordship that I had dissuaded you from appearing at Jedburgh,

but he said I was wrong in doing so, and I therefore leave the

matter to you and him. _I think it is probable he will breakfast

with Sir H. H. MacDougall on the 21st, on his way to

Jedburgh._"...

[Footnote 94: The Judges then attended in Edinburgh in

rotation during the intervals of term, to take care of

various sorts of business which could not brook delay, bills

of injunction, etc.]

[Footnote 95: The beautiful seat of the Baillies of

Jerviswood, in Berwickshire, a few miles below Dryburgh.]

This last quiet hint, that the young lawyer might as well be at

Makerstoun (the seat of a relation) when _His Lordship_ breakfasted

there, and of course swell the train of His Lordship's little

procession into the county town, seems delightfully characteristic. I

think I hear Sir Walter himself lecturing _me_, when in the same sort

of situation, thirty years afterwards. He declined, as one of the

following letters will show, the opportunity of making his first

appearance on this occasion at Jedburgh. He was present, indeed, at

the Court during the assizes, but "durst not venture." His accounts to

William Clerk of his vacation amusements, and more particularly of his

second excursion to Northumberland, will, I am sure, interest every

reader:--

TO WILLIAM CLERK, ESQ., ADVOCATE, PRINCE'S STREET,

EDINBURGH.

ROSEBANK, 10th September, 1792.

DEAR WILLIAM,--Taking the advantage of a very indifferent day,

which is likely to float away a good deal of corn, and of my

father's leaving this place, who will take charge of this scroll,

I sit down to answer your favor. I find you have been, like

myself, taking advantage of the good weather to look around you a

little, and congratulate you upon the pleasure you must have

received from your jaunt with Mr. Russell[96] I apprehend, though

you are silent on the subject, that your conversation was

enlivened by many curious disquisitions of the nature {p.171}

of _undulating exhalations_. I should have bowed before the

venerable grove of oaks at Hamilton with as much respect as if I

had been a Druid about to gather the sacred mistletoe. I should

hardly have suspected your host Sir William[97] of having been

the occasion of the scandal brought upon the library and Mr.

Gibb[98] by the introduction of the Cabinet des Fées, of which I

have a volume or two here. I am happy to think there is an

admirer of _snug things_ in the administration of the library.

Poor Linton's[99] misfortune, though I cannot say it surprises,

yet heartily grieves me. I have no doubt he will have many

advisers and animadverters upon the naughtiness of his ways,

whose admonitions will be forgot upon the next opportunity.

I am lounging about the country here, to speak sincerely, as idle

as the day is long. Two old companions of mine, brothers of Mr.

Walker of Wooden, having come to this country, we have renewed a

great intimacy. As they live directly upon the opposite bank of

the river, we have signals agreed upon by which we concert a plan

of operations for the day. They are both officers, and very

intelligent young fellows, and what is of some consequence, have

a brace of fine greyhounds. Yesterday forenoon we killed seven

hares, so you may see how plenty the game is with us. I have

turned a keen duck-shooter, though my success is not very great;

and when wading through the mosses upon this errand, accoutred

with the long gun, a jacket, mosquito trousers, and a rough cap,

I might well pass for one of my redoubted moss-trooper {p.172}

progenitors, Walter Fire-the-Braes,[100] or rather Willie wi' the

Bolt-Foot.

For about-doors' amusement, I have constructed a seat in a large

tree which spreads its branches horizontally over the Tweed. This

is a favorite situation of mine for reading, especially in a day

like this, when the west wind rocks the branches on which I am

perched, and the river rolls its waves below me of a turbid blood

color. I have, moreover, cut an embrasure, through which I can

fire upon the gulls, herons, and cormorants, as they fly

screaming past my nest. To crown the whole, I have carved an

inscription upon it in the ancient Roman taste. I believe I shall

hardly return into town, barring accidents, sooner than the

middle of next month, perhaps not till November. Next week,

weather permitting, is destined for a Northumberland expedition,

in which I shall visit some parts of that country which I have

not yet seen, particularly about Hexham. Some days ago I had

nearly met with a worse accident than the tramp I took at

Moorfoot;[101] for having bewildered myself among the Cheviot

hills, it was nearly nightfall before I got to the village of

Hownam, and the passes with which I was acquainted. You do not

speak of being in Perthshire this season, though I suppose you

intend it. I suppose we, that is, _nous autres_,[102] are at

present completely dispersed.

Compliments to all who are in town, and best respects to your own

family, both in Prince's Street and at Eldin.--Believe me ever

most sincerely yours,

WALTER SCOTT.

[Footnote 96: Mr. Russell, surgeon, afterwards Professor of

Clinical Surgery at Edinburgh.]

[Footnote 97: Sir William Miller (Lord Glenlee).]

[Footnote 98: Mr. Gibb was the Librarian of the Faculty of

Advocates.]

[Footnote 99: Clerk, Abercromby, Scott, Ferguson, and others,

had occasional boating excursions from Leith to Inchcolm,

Inchkeith, etc. On one of these their boat was neared by a

Newhaven one--Ferguson, at the moment, was standing up

talking; one of the Newhaven fishermen, taking him for a

brother of his own craft, bawled out, "Linton, you lang

bitch, is that you?" From that day Adam Ferguson's cognomen

among his friends of _The Club_ was Linton.]

[Footnote 100: Walter Scott of Synton (elder brother of

_Bolt-Foot_, the first Baron of Harden) was thus designated.

He greatly distinguished himself in the battle of Melrose, A.

D. 1526.]

[Footnote 101: This alludes to being lost in a fishing

excursion.]

[Footnote 102: The companions of _The Club_.]

TO {p.173} WILLIAM CLERK, ESQ.

ROSEBANK, 30th September, 1792.

DEAR WILLIAM,--I suppose this will find you flourishing like a

green bay-tree on the mountains of Perthshire, and in full

enjoyment of all the pleasures of the country. All that I envy

you is the _noctes cænæque deum_, which, I take it for granted,

you three merry men will be spending together, while I am poring

over Bartholine in the long evenings, solitary enough; for, as

for the lobsters, as you call them, I am separated from them by

the Tweed, which precludes evening meetings, unless in fine

weather and full moons. I have had an expedition through Hexham

and the higher parts of Northumberland, which would have

delighted the very cockles of your heart, not so much on account

of the beautiful romantic appearance of the country, though that

would have charmed you also, as because you would have seen more

Roman inscriptions built into gate-posts, barns, etc., than

perhaps are to be found in any other part of Britain. These have

been all dug up from the neighboring Roman wall, which is still

in many places very entire, and gives a stupendous idea of the

perseverance of its founders, who carried such an erection from

sea to sea, over rocks, mountains, rivers, and morasses. There

are several lakes among the mountains above Hexham, well worth

going many miles to see, though their fame is eclipsed by their

neighborhood to those of Cumberland. They are surrounded by old

towers and castles, in situations the most savagely romantic;

what would I have given to have been able to take effect-pieces

from some of them! Upon the Tyne, about Hexham, the country has a

different aspect, presenting much of the beautiful, though less

of the sublime. I was particularly charmed with the situation of

Beaufront, a house belonging to a mad sort of genius, whom, I am

sure, I have told you some stories about. He used to call himself

the Noble Errington, {p.174} but of late has assumed the title

of Duke of Hexham. Hard by the town is the field of battle where

the forces of Queen Margaret were defeated by those of the House

of York, a blow which the Red Rose never recovered during the

civil wars. The spot where the Duke of Somerset and the northern

nobility of the Lancastrian faction were executed after the

battle is still called Dukesfield. The inhabitants of this

country speak an odd dialect of the Saxon, approaching nearly

that of Chaucer, and have retained some customs peculiar to

themselves. They are the descendants of the ancient Danes, chased

into the fastnesses of Northumberland by the severity of William

the Conqueror. Their ignorance is surprising to a Scotchman. It

is common for the traders in cattle, which business is carried on

to a great extent, to carry all letters received in course of

trade to the parish church, where the clerk reads them aloud

after service, and answers them according to circumstances.

We intended to visit the lakes in Cumberland, but our jaunt was

cut short by the bad weather. I went to the circuit at Jedburgh,

to make my bow to Lord J. Clerk, and might have had employment,

but durst not venture. Nine of the Dunse rioters were condemned

to banishment, but the ferment continues violent in the Merse.

Kelso races afforded little sport--Wishaw[103] lost a horse which

cost him £500, and foundered irrecoverably on the course. At

another time I shall quote George Buchanan's adage of "a fool and

his money," but at present labor under a similar misfortune; my

Galloway having yesterday thought proper (N. B., without a rider)

to leap over a gate, and being lamed for the present. This is not

his first _faux-pas_, for he jumped into a water with me on his

back when in Northumberland, to the imminent danger of my life.

He is, therefore, to be sold (when recovered), and another

purchased. This accident has occasioned {p.175} you the trouble

of reading so long an epistle, the day being Sunday, and my

uncle, the captain, busily engaged with your father's naval

tactics, is too seriously employed to be an agreeable companion.

Apropos (des bottes)--I am sincerely sorry to hear that James is

still unemployed, but have no doubt a time will come round when

his talents will have an opportunity of being displayed to his

advantage. I have no prospect of seeing my _chère adorable_ till

winter, if then. As for you, I pity you not, seeing as how you

have so good a succedaneum in M. G.; and, on the contrary, hope,

not only that Edmonstone may _roast_ you, but that Cupid may

again (as erst) _fry_ you on the gridiron of jealousy for your

infidelity. Compliments to our right trusty and well-beloved

Linton and Jean Jacques.[104] If you write, which, by the way, I

hardly have the conscience to expect, direct to my father's care,

who will forward your letter. I have quite given up duck-shooting

for the season, the birds being too old, and the mosses too deep

and cold. I have no reason to boast of my experience or success

in the sport, and for my own part, should fire at any distance

under eighty or even ninety paces, though above forty-five I

would reckon it a _coup désespéré_, and as the bird is beyond

measure shy, you may be sure I was not very bloody. Believe me,

deferring, _as usual_, our dispute till another opportunity,

always sincerely yours,

WALTER SCOTT.

P. S.--I believe, if my pony does not soon recover, that

misfortune, with the bad weather, may send me soon to town.

[Footnote 103: William Hamilton of Wishaw,--who afterwards

established his claim to the peerage of Belhaven.]

[Footnote 104: John James Edmonstone.]

It was within a few days after Scott's return from his excursion to

Hexham, that, while attending the Michaelmas head-court, as an annual

county-meeting is called, at Jedburgh, he was introduced, by an old

companion, Charles Kerr of Abbotrule, to Mr. Robert Shortreed, that

{p.176} gentleman's near relation, who spent the greater part of his

life in the enjoyment of much respect as Sheriff-substitute of

Roxburghshire. Scott had been expressing his wish to visit the then

wild and inaccessible district of Liddesdale, particularly with a view

to examine the ruins of the famous castle of Hermitage, and to pick up

some of the ancient _riding ballads_, said to be still preserved among

the descendants of the moss-troopers, who had followed the banner of

the Douglases, when lords of that grim and remote fastness. Mr.

Shortreed had many connections in Liddesdale, and knew its passes

well, and he was pointed out as the very guide the young advocate

wanted. They started, accordingly, in a day or two afterwards, from

Abbotrule; and the laird meant to have been of the party; but "it was

well for him," said Shortreed, "that he changed his mind--for he could

never have done as we did."[105]

[Footnote 105: I am obliged to Mr. John Elliot Shortreed, a

son of Scott's early friend, for some _memoranda_ of his

father's conversations on this subject. These notes were

written in 1824; and I shall make several quotations from

them. I had, however, many opportunities of hearing Mr.

Shortreed's stories from his own lips, having often been

under his hospitable roof in company with Sir Walter, who to

the last always was his old friend's guest when business took

him to Jedburgh.]

During seven successive years Scott made a _raid_, as he called it,

into Liddesdale, with Mr. Shortreed for his guide; exploring every

rivulet to its source, and every ruined _peel_ from foundation to

battlement. At this time no wheeled carriage had ever been seen in the

district--the first, indeed, that ever appeared there was a gig,

driven by Scott himself for a part of his way, when on the last of

these seven excursions. There was no inn or public-house of any kind

in the whole valley; the travellers passed from the shepherd's hut to

the minister's manse, and again from the cheerful hospitality of the

manse to the rough and jolly welcome of the homestead; gathering,

wherever they went, songs and tunes, and occasionally more tangible

relics of antiquity--even such "a {p.177} rowth of auld nicknackets"

as Burns ascribes to Captain Grose. To these rambles Scott owed much

of the materials of his Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; and not

less of that intimate acquaintance with the living manners of these

unsophisticated regions, which constitutes the chief charm of one of

the most charming of his prose works. But how soon he had any definite

object before him in his researches seems very doubtful. "He was

_makin' himsel'_ a' the time," said Mr. Shortreed; "but he didna ken

maybe what he was about till years had passed: at first he thought o'

little, I dare say, but the queerness and the fun."

"In those days," says the Memorandum before me, "advocates were not so

plenty--at least about Liddesdale;" and the worthy Sheriff-substitute

goes on to describe the sort of bustle, not unmixed with alarm,

produced at the first farmhouse they visited (Willie Elliot's at

Millburnholm), when the honest man was informed of the quality of one

of his guests. When they dismounted, accordingly, he received Mr.

Scott with great ceremony, and insisted upon himself leading his horse

to the stable. Shortreed accompanied Willie, however, and the latter,

after taking a deliberate peep at Scott, "out-by the edge of the

door-cheek," whispered, "Weel, Robin, I say, de'il hae me if I's be a

bit feared for him now; he's just a chield like ourselves, I think."

Half-a-dozen dogs of all degrees had already gathered round "the

advocate," and his way of returning their compliments had set Willie

Elliot at once at his ease.

According to Mr. Shortreed, this goodman of Millburnholm was the great

original of Dandie Dinmont. As he seems to have been the first of

these upland sheep-farmers that Scott ever visited, there can be

little doubt that he sat for some parts of that inimitable

portraiture; and it is certain that the James Davidson, who carried

the name of Dandie to his grave with him, and whose thoroughbred

deathbed scene is told in the Notes to Guy Mannering, {p.178} was

first pointed out to Scott by Mr. Shortreed himself, several years

after the novel had established the man's celebrity all over the

Border; some accidental report about his terriers, and their odd

names, having alone been turned to account in the original composition

of the tale. But I have the best reason to believe that the kind and

manly character of Dandie, the gentle and delicious one of his wife,

and some at least of the most picturesque peculiarities of the

_ménage_ at Charlieshope, were filled up from Scott's observation,

years after this period, of a family, with one of whose members he

had, through the best part of his life, a close and affectionate

connection. To those who were familiar with him, I have perhaps

already sufficiently indicated the early home of his dear friend,

William Laidlaw, among "the braes of Yarrow."

They dined at Millburnholm, and after having lingered over Willie

Elliot's punch-bowl, until, in Mr. Shortreed's phrase, they were

"half-glowrin," mounted their steeds again, and proceeded to Dr.

Elliot's at Cleughhead, where ("for," says my Memorandum, "folk were

na very nice in those days") the two travellers slept in one and the

same bed--as, indeed, seems to have been the case with them throughout

most of their excursions in this primitive district. This Dr. Elliot

had already a large MS. collection of the ballads Scott was in quest

of; and finding how much his guest admired his acquisitions,

thenceforth exerted himself, for several years, with redoubled

diligence, in seeking out the living depositaries of such lore among

the darker recesses of the mountains. "The Doctor," says Mr.

Shortreed, "would have gane through fire and water for Sir Walter,

when he ance kenned him."

Next morning they seem to have ridden a long way, for the express

purpose of visiting one "auld Thomas o' Twizzlehope," another Elliot,

I suppose, who was celebrated for his skill on the Border pipe, and in

particular for {p.179} being in possession of the real _lilt_ of

_Dick o' the Cow_. Before starting, that is, at six o'clock, the

ballad-hunters had, "just to lay the stomach, a devilled duck or twae,

and some _London_ porter." Auld Thomas found them, nevertheless, well

disposed for "breakfast" on their arrival at Twizzlehope; and this

being over, he delighted them with one of the most hideous and

unearthly of all the specimens of "riding music," and, moreover, with

considerable libations of whiskey-punch, manufactured in a certain

wooden vessel, resembling a very small milk-pail, which he called

"Wisdom," because it "made" only a few spoonfuls of spirits--though he

had the art of replenishing it so adroitly, that it had been

celebrated for fifty years as more fatal to sobriety than any bowl in

the parish. Having done due honor to "Wisdom," they again mounted, and

proceeded over moss and moor to some other equally hospitable master

of the pipe. "Eh me," says Shortreed, "sic an endless fund o' humor

and drollery as he then had wi' him! Never ten yards but we were

either laughing or roaring and singing. Wherever we stopped, how

brawlie he suited himsel' to everybody! He aye did as the lave did;

never made himsel' the great man, or took ony airs in the company.

I've seen him in a' moods in these jaunts, grave and gay, daft and

serious, sober and drunk--(this, however, even in our wildest rambles,

was but rare)--but, drunk or sober, he was aye the gentleman. He

looked excessively heavy and stupid when he was _fou_, but he was

never out o' gude-humor."

On reaching, one evening, some _Charlieshope_ or other (I forget the

name) among those wildernesses, they found a kindly reception as

usual; but to their agreeable surprise, after some days of hard

living, a measured and orderly hospitality as respected liquor. Soon

after supper, at which a bottle of elderberry wine alone had been

produced, a young student of divinity, who happened to be in the

house, was called upon to take the "big ha' Bible," {p.180} in the

good old fashion of Burns's Saturday Night; and some progress had been

already made in the service, when the goodman of the farm, whose

"tendency," as Mr. Mitchell says, "was soporific," scandalized his

wife and the dominie by starting suddenly from his knees, and rubbing

his eyes, with a stentorian exclamation of "By ----, here 's the keg at

last!" and in tumbled, as he spake the word, a couple of sturdy

herdsmen, whom, on hearing a day before of the advocate's approaching

visit, he had despatched to a certain smuggler's haunt, at some

considerable distance, in quest of a supply of _run_ brandy from the

Solway Frith. The pious "exercise" of the household was hopelessly

interrupted. With a thousand apologies for his hitherto shabby

entertainment, this jolly Elliot, or Armstrong, had the welcome _keg_

mounted on the table without a moment's delay, and gentle and simple,

not forgetting the dominie, continued carousing about it until

daylight streamed in upon the party. Sir Walter Scott seldom failed,

when I saw him in company with his Liddesdale companion, to mimic with

infinite humor the sudden outburst of his old host, on hearing the

clatter of horses' feet, which he knew to indicate the arrival of the

keg--the consternation of the dame--and the rueful despair with which

the young clergyman closed the book.

"It was in that same season, I think," says Mr. Shortreed, "that

Sir Walter got from Dr. Elliot the large old border war-horn,

which ye may still see hanging in the armory at Abbotsford. How

_great_ he was when he was made master o' _that_! I believe it

had been found in Hermitage Castle--and one of the Doctor's

servants had used it many a day as a grease-horn for his scythe,

before they discovered its history. When cleaned out, it was

never a hair the worse--the original chain, hoop, and mouth-piece

of steel, were all entire, just as you now see them. Sir Walter

carried it home all the way from Liddesdale to Jedburgh, slung

about his neck like Johnny Gilpin's bottle, while I was entrusted

with an ancient bridle-bit, which we had likewise picked up.

'The {p.181} feint o' pride--na pride had he...

A lang kail-gully hung down by his side,

And a great meikle nowt-horn to rout on had he,'

and meikle and sair we routed on 't and 'hotched and blew, wi'

micht and main.' O what pleasant days! And then a' the nonsense

we had cost us naething. We never put hand in pocket for a week

on end. Toll-bars there were none--and indeed I think our haill

charges were a feed o' corn to our horses in the gangin' and

comin' at Riccartoun mill."

It is a pity that we have no letters of Scott's describing this first

_raid_ into Liddesdale; but as he must have left Kelso for Edinburgh

very soon after its conclusion, he probably chose to be the bearer of

his own tidings. At any rate, the wonder perhaps is, not that we

should have so few letters of this period, as that any have been

recovered. "I ascribe the preservation of my little handful," says Mr.

Clerk, "to a sort of instinctive prophetic sense of his future

greatness."

I have found, however, two note-books, inscribed "Walter Scott, 1792,"

containing a variety of scraps and hints which may help us to fill up

our notion of his private studies during that year. He appears to have

used them indiscriminately. We have now an extract from the author he

happened to be reading; now a memorandum of something that had struck

him in conversation; a fragment of an essay; transcripts of favorite

poems; remarks on curious cases in the old records of the Justiciary

Court; in short, a most miscellaneous collection, in which there is

whatever might have been looked for, with perhaps the single exception

of original verse. One of the books opens with: "_Vegtam's Kvitha_, or

The Descent of Odin, with the Latin of Thomas Bartholine, and the

English poetical version of Mr. Gray; with some account of the death

of Balder, both as narrated in the Edda, and as handed down to us by

the Northern historians--_Auctore Gualtero Scott_." The Norse original

and the two versions are then transcribed; and {p.182} the

historical account appended, extending to seven closely written quarto

pages, was, I doubt not, read before one or other of his debating

societies. Next comes a page, headed "Pecuniary Distress of Charles

the First," and containing a transcript of a receipt for some plate

lent to the King in 1643. He then copies Langhorne's Owen of Carron;

the verses of Canute, on passing Ely; the lines to a cuckoo, given by

Warton as the oldest specimen of English verse; a translation "by a

gentleman in Devonshire," of the death-song of Regner Lodbrog; and the

beautiful quatrain omitted in Gray's Elegy,--

"There scattered oft, the earliest of the year," etc.

After this we have an Italian canzonet, on the praises of blue eyes

(which were much in favor at this time); several pages of etymologies

from Ducange; some more of notes on the Morte Arthur; extracts from

the books of Adjournal, about Dame Janet Beaton, the Lady of Branksome

of The Lay of the Last Minstrel, and her husband, "Sir Walter Scott of

Buccleuch, called _Wicked Wat_;" other extracts about witches and

fairies; various couplets from Hall's Satires; a passage from Albania;

notes on the Second Sight, with extracts from Aubrey and Glanville; a

"List of Ballads to be discovered or recovered;" extracts from Guerin

de Montglave; and after many more similar entries, a table of the

Mæso-Gothic, Anglo-Saxon and Runic alphabets--with a fourth section,

headed _German_, but left blank. But enough perhaps of this record.

In November, 1792, Scott and Clerk began their regular attendance at

the Parliament House, and Scott, to use Mr. Clerk's words, "by and by

crept into a tolerable share of such business as may be expected from

a writer's connection." By this we are to understand that he was

employed from time to time by his father, and probably a few other

solicitors, in that dreary every-day taskwork, chiefly of long written

_informations_, and other papers {p.183} for the Court, on which

young counsellors of the Scotch Bar were then expected to bestow a

great deal of trouble for very scanty pecuniary remuneration, and with

scarcely a chance of finding reserved for their hands any matter that

could elicit the display of superior knowledge of understanding. He

had also his part in the cases of persons suing _in forma pauperis_;

but how little important those that came to his share were, and how

slender was the impression they had left on his mind, we may gather

from a note on Redgauntlet, wherein he signifies his doubts whether he

really had ever been engaged in what he has certainly made the _cause

célèbre_ of _Poor Peter Peebles_.

But he soon became as famous for his powers of storytelling among the

lawyers of the Outer-House, as he had been among the companions of his

High School days. The place where these idlers mostly congregated was

called, it seems, by a name which sufficiently marks the date--it was

_the Mountain_. Here, as Roger North says of the Court of King's Bench

in his early day, "there was more news than law;"--here hour after

hour passed away, week after week, month after month, and year after

year, in the interchange of light-hearted merriment among a circle of

young men, more than one of whom, in after-times, attained the highest

honors of the profession. Among the most intimate of Scott's daily

associates from this time, and during all his subsequent attendance at

the Bar, were, besides various since-eminent persons that have been

already named, the first legal antiquary of our time in Scotland, Mr.

Thomas Thomson, and William Erskine, afterwards Lord Kinnedder. Mr.

Clerk remembers complaining one morning on finding the group convulsed

with laughter, that _Duns Scotus_ had been forestalling him in a good

story, which he had communicated privately the day before--adding,

moreover, that his friend had not only stolen, but disguised it.

"Why," answered he, skilfully waiving the main charge, "this {p.184}

is always the way with _the Baronet_. He is continually saying that I

change his stories, whereas in fact I only put a cocked hat on their

heads, and stick a cane into their hands--to make them fit for going

into company."

The German class, of which we have an account in one of the Prefaces

of 1830, was formed before the Christmas of 1792, and it included

almost all these loungers of _the Mountain_. In the essay now referred

to Scott traces the interest excited in Scotland on the subject of

German literature to a paper read before the Royal Society of

Edinburgh, on the 21st of April, 1788, by the author of The Man of

Feeling. "The literary persons of Edinburgh," he says, "were then

first made aware of the existence of works of genius in a language

cognate with the English, and possessed of the same manly force of

expression; they learned at the same time that the taste which

dictated the German compositions was of a kind as nearly allied to the

English as their language: those who were from their youth accustomed

to admire Shakespeare and Milton, became acquainted for the first time

with a race of poets, who had the same lofty ambition to spurn the

flaming boundaries of the universe, and investigate the realms of

Chaos and Old Night; and of dramatists, who, disclaiming the pedantry

of the unities, sought, at the expense of occasional improbabilities

and extravagance, to present life on the stage in its scenes of

wildest contrast, and in all its boundless variety of character....

Their fictitious narratives, their ballad poetry, and other branches

of their literature, which are particularly apt to bear the stamp of

the extravagant and the supernatural, began also to occupy the

attention of the British literati. In Edinburgh, where the remarkable

coincidence between the German language and the Lowland Scottish

encouraged young men to approach this newly discovered spring of

literature, a class was formed of six or seven intimate friends, who

proposed to make themselves acquainted {p.185} with the German

language. They were in the habit of being much together, and the time

they spent in this new study was felt as a period of great amusement.

One source of this diversion was the laziness of one of their number,

the present author, who, averse to the necessary toil of grammar, and

the rules, was in the practice of fighting his way to the knowledge of

the German by his acquaintance with the Scottish and Anglo-Saxon

dialects, and of course frequently committed blunders which were not

lost on his more accurate and more studious companions." The teacher,

Dr. Willich, a medical man, is then described as striving with little

success to make his pupils sympathize in his own passion for the

"sickly monotony" and "affected ecstasies" of Gessner's Death of Abel;

and the young students, having at length acquired enough of the

language for their respective purposes, as selecting for their private

pursuits, some the philosophical treatises of Kant, others the dramas

of Schiller and Goethe. The chief, if not the only _Kantist_ of the

party, was, I believe, John Macfarlan of Kirkton; among those who

turned zealously to the popular belles-lettres of Germany were, with

Scott, his most intimate friends of the period, William Clerk, William

Erskine, and Thomas Thomson.

These studies were much encouraged by the example, and assisted by the

advice, of an accomplished person, considerably Scott's superior in

standing, Alexander Fraser Tytler, afterwards a Judge of the Court of

Session by the title of Lord Woodhouselee. His version of Schiller's

Robbers was one of the earliest from the German theatre, and no doubt

stimulated his young friend to his first experiments in the same walk.

The contemporary familiars of those days almost all survive; but one,

and afterwards the most intimate of them all, went before him; and I

may therefore hazard in this place a few words on the influence which

he exercised at this critical period on Scott's literary tastes and

studies. {p.186} William Erskine was the son of an Episcopalian

clergyman in Perthshire, of a good family, but far from wealthy. He

had received his early education at Glasgow, where, while attending

the college lectures, he was boarded under the roof of Andrew

Macdonald, the author of Vimonda, who then officiated as minister to a

small congregation of Episcopalian nonconformists. From this

unfortunate but very ingenious man, Erskine had derived, in boyhood, a

strong passion for old English literature, more especially the

Elizabethan dramatists; which, however, he combined with a far

livelier relish for the classics of antiquity than either Scott or his

master ever possessed. From the beginning, accordingly, Scott had in

Erskine a monitor who--entering most warmly into his taste for

national lore--the life of the past--and the bold and picturesque

style of the original English school--was constantly urging the

advantages to be derived from combining with its varied and masculine

breadth of delineation such attention to the minor graces of

arrangement and diction as might conciliate the fastidiousness of

modern taste. Deferring what I may have to say as to Erskine's general

character and manners, until I shall have approached the period when I

myself had the pleasure of sharing his acquaintance, I introduce the

general bearing of his literary opinions thus early, because I

conceive there is no doubt that his companionship was, even in those

days, highly serviceable to Scott as a student of the German drama and

romance. Directed, as he mainly was in the ultimate determination of

his literary ambition, by the example of their great founders, he

appears to have run at first no trivial hazard of adopting the

extravagances, both of thought and language, which he found blended in

their works with such a captivating display of genius, and genius

employed on subjects so much in unison with the deepest of his own

juvenile predilections. His friendly critic was just, as well as

delicate; and unmerciful severity as to the mingled absurdities

{p.187} and vulgarities of German detail commanded deliberate

attention from one who admired not less enthusiastically than himself

the genuine sublimity and pathos of his new favorites. I could, I

believe, name one other at least among Scott's fellow-students of the

same time, whose influence was combined in this matter with Erskine's;

but his was that which continued to be exerted the longest, and always

in the same direction. That it was not accompanied with entire

success, the readers of The Doom of Devorgoil, to say nothing of minor

blemishes in far better works, must acknowledge.

These German studies divided Scott's attention with the business of

the courts of law, on which he was at least a regular attendant during

the winter of 1792-93.

In March, when the Court rose, he proceeded into Galloway, where he

had not before been, in order to make himself acquainted with the

persons and localities mixed up with the case of a certain Rev. Mr.

M'Naught, minister of Girthon, whose trial, on charges of habitual

drunkenness, singing of lewd and profane songs, dancing and toying at

a penny-wedding with a "sweetie wife" (that is, an itinerant vender of

gingerbread, etc.), and moreover of promoting irregular marriages as a

justice of the peace, was about to take place before the General

Assembly of the Kirk.

As his "Case for M'Naught," dated May, 1793, is the first of his legal

papers that I have discovered, and contains several characteristic

enough turns, I make no apology for introducing a few extracts:--

At the head of the first class of offences stands the

extraordinary assertion, that, being a Minister of the Gospel,

the respondent had illegally undertaken the office of a justice

of peace. It is, the respondent believes, the first time that

ever the undertaking an office of such extensive utility was

stated as a crime; for he humbly apprehends, that by conferring

the office of a justice of the peace upon clergymen, their

influence may, in the general case, be rendered more extensive

among their parishioners, and {p.188} many trifling causes be

settled by them, which might lead the litigants to enormous

expenses, and become the subject of much contention before other

courts. The duty being only occasional, and not daily, cannot be

said to interfere with those of their function; and their

education, and presumed character, render them most proper for

the office. It is indeed alleged that the Act 1584, chap. 133,

excludes clergymen from acting under a commission of the peace.

This Act, however, was passed at a time when it was of the

highest importance to the Crown to wrench from the hands of the

clergy the power of administering justice in civil cases, which

had, from the ignorance of the laity, been enjoyed by them almost

exclusively. During the whole reign of James VI., as is well

known to the Reverend Court, such a jealousy subsisted betwixt

the Church and the State, that those who were at the head of the

latter endeavored, by every means in their power, to diminish the

influence of the former. At present, when these dissensions

happily no longer subsist, the law, as far as regards the office

of justice of the peace, appears to have fallen into disuse, and

the respondent conceives that any minister is capable of acting

in that, or any other judicial capacity, provided it is of such a

nature as not to withdraw much of his time from what the statute

calls the comfort and edification of the flock committed to him.

Further, the Act 1584 is virtually repealed by the statute 6th

Anne, _c._ 6, sect. 2, which makes the Scots Law on the subject

of justices of the peace the same with that of England, where the

office is publicly exercised by the clergy of all descriptions.

... Another branch of the accusation against the defender as a

justice of peace, is the ratification of irregular marriages. The

defender must here also call the attention of his reverend

brethren and judges to the expediency of his conduct. The girls

were usually with child at the time the application was made to

the defender. In this situation, the children born out of

matrimony, though begot under promise of marriage, must have been

thrown upon the parish, or perhaps murdered in infancy, had not

the men been persuaded to consent to a solemn declaration of

betrothment, or private marriage, emitted before the defender as

a justice of peace. The defender himself, commiserating the

situation of such women, often endeavored to persuade their

seducers to do them justice; and men frequently acquiesced

{p.189} in this sort of marriage, when they could by no means

have been prevailed upon to go through the ceremonies of

proclamation of banns, or the expense and trouble of a public

wedding. The declaration of a previous marriage was sometimes

literally true; sometimes a fiction voluntarily emitted by the

parties themselves, under the belief that it was the most safe

way of constituting a private marriage _de presenti_. The

defender had been induced, from the practice of other justices,

to consider the receiving these declarations, whether true or

false, as a part of his duty, which he could not decline, even

had he been willing to do so. Finally, the defender must remind

the Venerable Assembly that he acted upon these occasions as a

justice of peace, which brings him back to the point from which

he set out, namely, that the Reverend Court are utterly

incompetent to take cognizance of his conduct in that character,

which no sentence that they can pronounce could give or take

away.

The second grand division of the libel against the defender

refers to his conduct as a clergyman and a Christian. He was

charged in the libel with the most gross and vulgar behavior,

with drunkenness, blasphemy, and impiety; yet all the evidence

which the appellants have been able to bring forward tends only

to convict him of three acts of drunkenness during the course of

fourteen years: for even the Presbytery, severe as they have

been, acquit him _quoad ultra_. But the attention of the Reverend

Court is earnestly entreated to the situation of the defender at

the time, the circumstances which conduced to his imprudence, and

the share which some of those had in occasioning his guilt, who

have since been most active in persecuting and distressing him on

account of it.

The defender must premise, by observing, that the crime of

drunkenness consists not in a man's having been in that situation

twice or thrice in his life, but in the constant and habitual

practice of the vice; the distinction between _ebrius_ and

_ebriosus_ being founded in common sense, and recognized by law.

A thousand cases may be supposed, in which a man, without being

aware of what he is about, may be insensibly led on to

intoxication, especially in a country where the vice is

unfortunately so common, that upon some occasions a man may go to

excess from a false sense of modesty, or a fear of disobliging

his entertainer. {p.190} The defender will not deny, that after

losing his senses upon the occasions, and in the manner to be

afterwards stated, he may have committed improprieties which fill

him with sorrow and regret: but he hopes, that in case he shall

be able to show circumstances which abridge and palliate the

guilt of his imprudent excess, the Venerable Court will consider

these improprieties as the effects of that excess only, and not

as arising from any radical vice in his temper or disposition.

When a man is bereft of his judgment by the influence of wine,

and commits any crime, he can only be said to be morally

culpable, in proportion to the impropriety of the excess he has

committed, and not in proportion to the magnitude of its evil

consequences. In a legal view, indeed, a man must be held as

answerable and punishable for such a crime, precisely as if he

had been in a state of sobriety; but his crime is, in a moral

light, comprised in the _origo mali_, the drunkenness only. His

senses being once gone, he is no more than a human machine, as

insensible of misconduct, in speech and action, as a parrot or an

automaton. This is more particularly the case with respect to

indecorums, such as the defender is accused of; for a man can no

more be held a common swearer, or a habitual talker of obscenity,

because he has been guilty of using such expressions when

intoxicated, than he can be termed an idiot, because, when

intoxicated, he has spoken nonsense. If, therefore, the defender

can extenuate the guilt of his intoxication, he hopes that its

consequences will be numbered rather among his misfortunes than

faults; and that his Reverend Brethren will consider him, while

in that state, as acting from a mechanical impulse, and as

incapable of distinguishing between right and wrong. For the

scandal which his behavior may have occasioned, he feels the most

heartfelt sorrow, and will submit with penitence and contrition

to the severe rebuke which the Presbytery have decreed against

him. But he cannot think that his unfortunate misdemeanor,

circumstanced as he was, merits a severer punishment. He can show

that pains were at these times taken to lead him on, when bereft

of his senses, to subjects which were likely to call forth

improper or indecent expressions. The defender must further urge,

that not being originally educated for the church, he may, before

he assumed the sacred character, have occasionally permitted

himself freedoms of expression which are reckoned less culpable

{p.191} among the laity. Thus he may, during that time, have

learned the songs which he is accused of singing, though rather

inconsistent with his clerical character. What, then, was more

natural, than that, when thrown off his guard by the assumed

conviviality and artful solicitations of those about him, former

improper habits, though renounced during his thinking moments,

might assume the reins of his imagination, when his situation

rendered him utterly insensible of their impropriety?

... The Venerable Court will now consider how far three instances

of ebriety, and their consequences, should ruin at once the

character and the peace of mind of the unfortunate defender, and

reduce him, at his advanced time of life, about sixty years,

together with his aged parent, to a state of beggary. He hopes

his severe sufferings may be considered as some atonement for the

improprieties of which he may have been guilty; and that the

Venerable Court will, in their judgment, remember mercy.

In respect whereof, etc.

WALTER SCOTT.

This argument (for which he received five guineas) was sustained by

Scott in a speech of considerable length at the Bar of the Assembly.

It was far the most important business in which any solicitor had as

yet employed him, and _The Club_ mustered strong in the gallery. He

began in a low voice, but by degrees gathered more confidence; and

when it became necessary for him to analyze the evidence touching a

certain penny-wedding, repeated some very coarse specimens of his

client's alleged conversation, in a tone so bold and free, that he was

called to order with great austerity by one of the leading members of

the Venerable Court. This seemed to confuse him not a little; so when,

by and by, he had to recite a stanza of one of M'Naught's convivial

ditties, he breathed it out in a faint and hesitating style;

whereupon, thinking he needed encouragement, the allies in the gallery

astounded the Assembly by cordial shouts of _hear! hear!--encore!

encore!_ They were immediately turned out, and Scott got through the

rest of his harangue very little to his own satisfaction.

He {p.192} believed, in a word, that he had made a complete failure,

and issued from the Court in a melancholy mood. At the door he found

Adam Ferguson waiting to inform him that the brethren so

unceremoniously extruded from the gallery had sought shelter in a

neighboring tavern, where they hoped he would join them. He complied

with the invitation, but seemed for a long while incapable of enjoying

the merriment of his friends. "Come, _Duns_," cried _the

Baronet_,--"cheer up, man, and fill another tumbler; here's ******

going to give us _The Tailor_."--"Ah!" he answered, with a groan, "the

tailor was a better man than me, sirs; for he didna venture _ben_

until he _kenned the way_." A certain comical old song, which had,

perhaps, been a favorite with the minister of Girthon--

"The tailor he came here to sew,

And weel he kenn'd the way o't," etc.

was, however, sung and chorused; and the evening ended in the full

jollity of _High Jinks_.

Mr. M'Naught was deposed from the ministry, and his young advocate has

written out at the end of the printed papers on the case two of the

_songs_ which had been alleged in the evidence. They are both grossly

indecent. It is to be observed, that the research he had made with a

view to pleading this man's cause carried him, for the first, and I

believe for the last time, into the scenery of his Guy Mannering; and

I may add that several of the names of the minor characters of the

novel (that of _M'Guffog_, for example) appear in the list of

witnesses for and against his client.

If the preceding autumn forms a remarkable point in Scott's history,

as first introducing him to the manners of the wilder Border country,

the summer which followed left traces of equal importance. He gave the

greater part of it to an excursion which much extended his knowledge

of Highland scenery and character; and in particular furnished him

with the richest stores, which he afterwards turned {p.193} to

account in one of the most beautiful of his great poems, and in

several, including the first, of his prose romances.

Accompanied by Adam Ferguson, he visited on this occasion some of the

finest districts of Stirlingshire and Perthshire; and not in the

percursory manner of his more boyish expeditions, but taking up his

residence for a week or ten days in succession at the family

residences of several of his young allies of _the Mountain_, and from

thence familiarizing himself at leisure with the country and the

people round about. In this way he lingered some time at Tullibody,

the seat of the father of Sir Ralph Abercromby, and grandfather of his

friend Mr. George Abercromby (now Lord Abercromby); and heard from the

old gentleman's own lips his narrative of a journey which he had been

obliged to make, shortly after he first settled in Stirlingshire, to

the wild retreat of Rob Roy. The venerable laird told how he was

received by the cateran "with much courtesy," in a cavern exactly such

as that of _Bean Lean_; dined on collops cut from some of his own

cattle, which he recognized hanging by their heels from the rocky roof

beyond; and returned in all safety, after concluding a bargain of

_blackmail_--in virtue of which annual payment Rob Roy guaranteed the

future security of his herds against, not his own followers merely,

but all freebooters whatever. Scott next visited his friend

Edmonstone, at Newton, a beautiful seat close to the ruins of the once

magnificent Castle of Doune, and heard another aged gentleman's vivid

recollections of all that happened there when John Home, the author of

Douglas, and other Hanoverian prisoners, escaped from the Highland

garrison in 1745.[106] Proceeding towards the sources of the Teith, he

was received for the first time under a roof which, in subsequent

years, he regularly revisited, that of another of his associates,

Buchanan, the young Laird of Cambusmore. It was thus that {p.194}

the scenery of Loch Katrine came to be so associated with "the

recollection of many a dear friend and merry expedition of former

days," that to compose The Lady of the Lake was "a labor of love, and

no less so to recall the manners and incidents introduced."[107] It

was starting from the same house, when the poem itself had made some

progress, that he put to the test the practicability of riding from

the banks of Loch Vennachar to the Castle of Stirling within the brief

space which he had assigned to Fitz-James's Grey Bayard, after the

duel with Roderick Dim; and the principal landmarks in the description

of that fiery progress are so many hospitable mansions, all familiar

to him at the same period--Blairdrummond, the residence of Lord

Kaimes; Ochtertyre, that of John Ramsay, the scholar and antiquary

(now best remembered for his kind and sagacious advice to Burns); and

"the lofty brow of ancient Kier," the splendid seat of the chief

family of the name of Stirling; from which, to say nothing of remoter

objects, the prospect has, on one hand, the rock of "Snowdon," and in

front the field of Bannockburn.

[Footnote 106: _Waverley_, chap, xxxviii. note.]

[Footnote 107: Introduction to _The Lady of the Lake_, 1830.]

Another resting-place was Craighall, in Perthshire, the seat of the

Rattrays, a family related to Mr. Clerk, who accompanied him. From the

position of this striking place, as Mr. Clerk at once perceived, and

as the author afterwards confessed to him, that of the _Tully-Veolan_

was very faithfully copied; though in the description of the house

itself, and its gardens, many features were adopted from Bruntsfield

and Ravelston.[108] Mr. Clerk has told me that he went through the

first chapters of Waverley without more than a vague suspicion of the

new novelist; but that when he read the arrival at Tully-Veolan, his

suspicion was at once converted into certainty, and he handed the book

to a common friend of his and the author's, saying, "This is

Scott's--and I'll lay {p.195} a bet you'll find such and such things

in the next chapter." I hope Mr. Clerk will forgive me for mentioning

_the_ particular circumstance that first flashed the conviction on his

mind. In the course of a ride from Craighall they had both become

considerably fagged and heated, and Clerk, seeing the smoke of a

_clachan_ a little way before them, ejaculated--"How agreeable if we

should here fall in with one of those signposts where a red lion

predominates over a punch-bowl!" The phrase happened to tickle Scott's

fancy--he often introduced it on similar occasions afterwards--and at

the distance of twenty years Mr. Clerk was at no loss to recognize an

old acquaintance in the "huge bear" which "predominates" over the

stone basin in the courtyard of Baron Bradwardine.

[Footnote 108: _Waverley_, chap. viii.]

I believe the longest stay he made this autumn was at Meigle in

Forfarshire, the seat of Patrick Murray of Simprim, a gentleman whose

enthusiastic passion for antiquities, and especially military

antiquities, had peculiarly endeared him both to Scott and Clerk. Here

Adam Ferguson, too, was of the party; and I have often heard them each

and all dwell on the thousand scenes of adventure and merriment which

diversified that visit. In the village churchyard, close beneath Mr.

Murray's gardens, tradition still points out the tomb of Queen

Guenever; and the whole district abounds in objects of historical

interest. Amidst them they spent their wandering days, while their

evenings passed in the joyous festivity of a wealthy young bachelor's

establishment, or sometimes under the roofs of neighbors less refined

than their host, the _Balmawhapples_ of the Braes of Angus. From

Meigle they made a trip to Dunnottar Castle, the ruins of the huge old

fortress of the Earls Marischall, and it was in the churchyard of that

place that Scott then saw for the first and last time Robert Paterson,

the living _Old Mortality_. He and Mr. Walker, the minister of the

parish, found the poor man refreshing the epitaphs on {p.196} the

tombs of certain Cameronians who had fallen under the oppressions of

James the Second's brief insanity. Being invited into the manse after

dinner to take a glass of whiskey-punch, "to which he was supposed to

have no objections," he joined the minister's party accordingly; but

"he was in bad humor," says Scott, "and, to use his own phrase, had no

freedom for conversation. His spirit had been sorely vexed by hearing,

in a certain Aberdonian kirk, the psalmody directed by a pitch-pipe or

some similar instrument, which was to Old Mortality the abomination of

abominations."

It was also while he had his headquarters at Meigle at this time that

Scott visited for the first time _Glammis_, the residence of the Earls

of Strathmore, by far the noblest specimen of the real feudal castle,

entire and perfect, that had as yet come under his inspection. What

its aspect was when he first saw it, and how grievously he lamented

the change it had undergone when he revisited it some years

afterwards, he has recorded in one of the most striking passages that

I think ever came from his pen. Commenting, in his Essay on Landscape

Gardening (1828), on the proper domestic ornaments of the Castle

_Pleasaunce_, he has this beautiful burst of lamentation over the

barbarous innovations of _the Capability men_:--"Down went many a

trophy of old magnificence, courtyard, ornamented enclosure, fosse,

avenue, barbican, and every external muniment of battled wall and

flanking tower, out of the midst of which the ancient dome, rising

high above all its characteristic accompaniments, and seemingly girt

round by its appropriate defences, which again circled each other in

their different gradations, looked, as it should, the queen and

mistress of the surrounding country. It was thus that the huge old

tower of Glammis, 'whose birth tradition notes not,' once showed its

lordly head above seven circles (if I remember aright) of defensive

boundaries, through which the friendly guest was admitted, and at each

of which a suspicious {p.197} person was unquestionably put to his

answer. A disciple of Kent had the cruelty to render this splendid old

mansion (the more modern part of which was the work of Inigo Jones)

more _parkish_, as he was pleased to call it; to raze all those

exterior defences, and bring his mean and paltry gravel-walk up to the

very door from which, deluded by the name, one might have imagined

Lady Macbeth (with the form and features of Siddons) issuing forth to

receive King Duncan. It is thirty years and upwards since I have seen

Glammis, but I have not yet forgotten or forgiven the atrocity which,

under pretence of improvement, deprived that lordly place of its

appropriate accompaniments,

'Leaving an ancient dome and towers like these

Beggar'd and outraged.'"[109]

[Footnote 109: Wordsworth's Sonnet on Neidpath Castle.]

The night he spent at the yet unprofaned Glammis in 1793 was, as he

elsewhere says, one of the "_two_ periods distant from each other" at

which he could recollect experiencing "that degree of superstitious

awe which his countrymen call _eerie_."

"The heavy pile," he writes, "contains much in its appearance,

and in the traditions connected with it, impressive to the

imagination. It was the scene of the murder of a Scottish King of

great antiquity--not indeed the gracious Duncan, with whom the

name naturally associates itself, but Malcolm II. It contains

also a curious monument of the peril of feudal times, being a

secret chamber, the entrance of which, by the law or custom of

the family, must only be known to three persons at once, namely,

the Earl of Strathmore, his heir-apparent, and any third person

whom they may take into their confidence. The extreme antiquity

of the building is vouched by the thickness of the walls, and the

wild straggling arrangement of the accommodation within doors. As

the late Earl seldom resided at Glammis, it was when I was there

but half furnished, and that with movables of great antiquity,

which, with the pieces of chivalric armor hanging on the walls,

greatly contributed to the general effect of the whole. After a

very hospitable reception from {p.198} the late Peter Proctor,

seneschal of the castle, I was conducted to my apartment in a

distant part of the building. I must own, that when I heard door

after door shut, after my conductor had retired, I began to

consider myself as too far from the living, and somewhat too near

the dead. We had passed through what is called _the King's Room_,

a vaulted apartment, garnished with stags' antlers and other

trophies of the chase, and said by tradition to be the spot of

Malcolm's murder, and I had an idea of the vicinity of the castle

chapel. In spite of the truth of history, the whole night scene

in Macbeth's Castle rushed at once upon me, and struck my mind

more forcibly than even when I have seen its terrors represented

by John Kemble and his inimitable sister. In a word, I

experienced sensations which, though not remarkable for timidity

or superstition, did not fail to affect me to the point of being

disagreeable, while they were mingled at the same time with a

strange and indescribable sort of pleasure, the recollection of

which affords me gratification at this moment."[110]

[Footnote 110: _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, p.

398.]

He alludes here to the hospitable reception which had preceded the

mingled sensations of this _eerie_ night; but one of his notes on

Waverley touches this not unimportant part of the story more

distinctly; for we are there informed that the _silver bear_ of

Tully-Veolan, "_the poculum potatorium_ of the valiant baron," had its

prototype at Glammis--a massive beaker of silver, double gilt, moulded

into the form of a _lion_, the name and bearing of the Earls of

Strathmore, and containing about an English pint of wine. "The

author," he says, "ought perhaps to be ashamed of recording that he

had the honor of swallowing the contents of _the lion_; and the

recollection of the feat suggested the story of the Bear of

Bradwardine."

From this pleasant tour, so rich in its results, Scott returned in

time to attend the autumnal assizes at Jedburgh, on which occasion he

made his first appearance as counsel in a criminal court; and had the

satisfaction of helping a veteran poacher and sheep-stealer to escape

through some of the meshes of the law. "You're a lucky {p.199}

scoundrel," Scott whispered to his client, when the verdict was

pronounced. "I'm just o' your mind," quoth the desperado, "and I'll

send ye a maukin[111] the morn, man." I am not sure whether it was at

these assizes or the next in the same town, that he had less success

in the case of a certain notorious housebreaker. The man, however, was

well aware that no skill could have baffled the clear evidence against

him, and was, after his fashion, grateful for such exertions as had

been made in his behalf. He requested the young advocate to visit him

once more before he left the place. Scott's curiosity induced him to

accept this invitation, and his friend, as soon as they were alone

together in the _condemned cell_, said--"I am very sorry, sir, that I

have no fee to offer you--so let me beg your acceptance of two bits of

advice which may be useful perhaps when you come to have a house of

your own. I am done with practice, you see, and here is my legacy.

Never keep a large watchdog out of doors--we can always silence them

cheaply--indeed if it be a _dog_, 'tis easier than whistling--but tie

a little tight yelping terrier within; and secondly, put no trust in

nice, clever, gimcrack locks--the only thing that bothers us is a huge

old heavy one, no matter how simple the construction,--and the ruder

and rustier the key, so much the better for the housekeeper." I

remember hearing him tell this story some thirty years after at a

Judges' dinner at Jedburgh, and he summed it up with a rhyme--"Ay, ay,

my lord," (I think he addressed his friend Lord Meadowbank)--

"Yelping terrier, rusty key,

Was Walter Scott's best Jeddart fee."

[Footnote 111: A hare.]

At these, or perhaps the next assizes, he was also counsel in an

appeal case touching a cow which his client had sold as sound, but

which the court below (the sheriff) had pronounced to have what is

called _the cliers_--a disease analogous to glanders in a horse. In

opening his case {p.200} before Sir David Rae, Lord Eskgrove, Scott

stoutly maintained the healthiness of the cow, who, as he said, had

merely a cough. "Stop there," quoth the judge; "I have had plenty of

healthy kye in my time, but I never heard of are of them coughing. A

coughin' cow!--that will never do. Sustain the sheriff's judgment, and

decern."

A day or two after this, Scott and his old companion were again on

their way into Liddesdale, and "just," says the Shortreed Memorandum,

"as we were passing by Singdon, we saw a grand herd o' cattle a'

feeding by the roadside, and a fine young bullock, the best in the

whole lot, was in the midst of them, coughing lustily. 'Ah,' said

Scott, 'what a pity for my client that old Eskgrove had not taken

Singdon on his way to the town. That bonny creature would have saved

us--

"A Daniel come to judgment, yea a Daniel;

O wise young judge, how I do honor thee!"'"

TO PATRICK MURRAY OF SIMPRIM, ESQ., MEIGLE.

ROSEBANK, near Kelso, September 13, 1793.

DEAR MURRAY,--I would have let fly an epistle at you long ere

this, had I not known I should have some difficulty in hitting so

active a traveller, who may in that respect be likened unto a

bird of passage. Were you to follow the simile throughout, I

might soon expect to see you winging your way to the southern

climes, instead of remaining to wait the approach of winter in

the colder regions of the north. Seriously, I have been in weekly

hopes of hearing of your arrival in the Merse, and have been

qualifying myself by constant excursions to be your Border

_Cicerone_.

As the facetious Linton will no doubt make one of your party, I

have got by heart for his amusement a reasonable number of Border

ballads, most of them a little longer than Chevy Chase, which I

intend to throw in at intervals, just by way of securing my share

in the conversation. {p.201} As for _you_, as I know your

picturesque turn, I can be in this country at no loss how to

cater for your entertainment, especially if you would think of

moving before the fall of the leaf. I believe with respect to the

real _To Kalon_, few villages can surpass that near which I am

now writing; and as to your rivers, it is part of my creed that

the Tweed and Teviot yield to none in the world, nor do I fear

that even in your eyes, which have been feasted on classic

ground, they will greatly sink in comparison with the Tiber or

Po. Then for antiquities, it is true we have got no temples or

heathenish fanes to show; but if substantial old castles and

ruined abbeys will serve in their stead, they are to be found in

abundance. So much for Linton and you. As for Mr. Robertson,[112]

I don't know quite so well how to bribe him. We had indeed lately

a party of strollers here, who might in some degree have

entertained him, _i. e._, in case he felt no compassion for the

horrid and tragical murders which they nightly committed,--but

now, _Alas, Sir! the players be gone_.

I am at present very uncertain as to my own motions, but I still

hope to be northwards again before the commencement of the

session, which (d--n it) is beginning to draw nigher than I could

wish. I would esteem myself greatly favored by a few lines

informing me of your motions when they are settled; since

visiting you, should I go north, or attending you if you come

this way, are my two grand plans of amusement.

What think you of our politics now? Had I been within reach of

you, or any of the chosen, I suspect the taking of Valenciennes

would have been sustained as a reason for examining the contents

of t'other bottle, which has too often suffered for slighter

pretences. I have little {p.202} doubt, however, that by the

time we meet in glory (terrestrial glory, I mean) Dunkirk will be

an equally good apology. Adieu, my good friend; remember me

kindly to Mr. Robertson, to Linton, and to the Baronet. I

understand both these last intend seeing you soon. I am very

sincerely yours,

WALTER SCOTT.

[Footnote 112: Dr. Robertson was tutor to the Laird of

Simprim, and afterwards minister of Meigle--a man of great

worth, and an excellent scholar. In his younger days he was

fond of the theatre, and encouraged and directed _Simprim,

Grogg, Linton & Co._ in their histrionic

diversions.--(1839.)]

The winter of 1793-94 appears to have been passed like the preceding

one: the German class resumed their sittings; Scott spoke in his

debating club on the questions of Parliamentary Reform and the

Inviolability of the Person of the First Magistrate, which the

circumstances of the time had invested with extraordinary interest,

and in both of which he no doubt took the side adverse to the

principles of the English, and the practice of the French Liberals.

His love-affair continued on exactly the same footing as before;--and

for the rest, like the young heroes in Redgauntlet, he "swept the

boards of the Parliament House with the skirts of his gown; laughed,

and made others laugh; drank claret at Bayle's, Fortune's, and

Walker's, and eat oysters in the Covenant Close." On his desk "the

new novel most in repute lay snugly intrenched beneath Stair's

Institute, or an open volume of Decisions;" and his dressing-table was

littered with "old play-bills, letters respecting a meeting of the

Faculty, Rules of the Speculative, Syllabus of Lectures--all the

miscellaneous contents of a young advocate's pocket, which contains

everything but briefs and bank-notes." His professional occupation was

still very slender; but he took a lively interest in the proceedings

of the criminal court, and more especially in those arising out of the

troubled state of the public feeling as to politics.

In the spring of 1794 I find him writing to his friends in

Roxburghshire with great exultation about the "good spirit"

manifesting itself among the upper classes of the citizens of

Edinburgh, and, above all, the organization of a {p.203} regiment of

volunteers, in which his brother Thomas, now a fine active young man,

equally handsome and high-spirited, was enrolled as a grenadier,

while, as he remarks, his own "unfortunate infirmity" condemned him to

be "a mere spectator of the drills." In the course of the same year,

the plan of a corps of volunteer light horse was started; and, if the

recollection of Mr. Skene be accurate, the suggestion originally

proceeded from Scott himself, who certainly had a principal share in

its subsequent success. He writes to his uncle at Rosebank, requesting

him to be on the lookout for a "strong gelding, such as would suit a

stalwart dragoon;" and intimating his intention to part with his

collection of Scottish coins, rather than not be mounted to his mind.

The corps, however, was not organized for some time; and in the mean

while he had an opportunity of displaying his zeal in a manner which

Captain Scott by no means considered as so respectable.

A party of Irish medical students began, towards the end of April, to

make themselves remarkable in the Edinburgh Theatre, where they

mustered in a particular corner of the pit, and lost no opportunity of

insulting the Loyalists of the boxes, by calling for revolutionary

tunes, applauding every speech that could bear a seditious meaning,

and drowning the national anthem in howls and hootings. The young

Tories of the Parliament House resented this license warmly, and after

a succession of minor disturbances, the quarrel was, put to the issue

of a regular trial by combat. Scott was conspicuous among the juvenile

advocates and solicitors who on this grand night assembled in front of

the pit, armed with stout cudgels, and determined to have God save the

King not only played without interruption, but sung in full chorus by

both company and audience. The Irishmen were ready at the first note

of the anthem. They rose, clapped on their hats, and brandished their

shillelahs; a stern battle ensued, and after many a head had been

cracked, the {p.204} Loyalists at length found themselves in

possession of the field. In writing to Simprim a few days afterwards,

Scott says--"You will be glad to hear that the _affair_ of Saturday

passed over without any worse consequence to the Loyalists than that

five, including your friend and humble servant Colonel Grogg, have

been bound over to the peace, and obliged to give bail for their good

behavior, which, you may believe, was easily found. The said Colonel

had no less than three broken heads laid to his charge by as many of

the Democrats." Alluding to Simprim's then recent appointment as

Captain in the Perthshire Fencibles (Cavalry), he adds--"Among my own

military (I mean mock-military) achievements, let me not fail to

congratulate you and the country on the real character you have agreed

to accept. Remember; in case of real action, I shall beg the honor of

admission to your troop as a volunteer."

One of the theatrical party, Sir Alexander Wood, whose notes lie

before me, says--"Walter was certainly our Coryphæus, and signalized

himself splendidly in this desperate fray; and nothing used afterwards

to afford him more delight than dramatizing its incidents. Some of the

most efficient of our allies were persons previously unknown to him,

and of several of these whom he had particularly observed, he never

lost sight afterwards. There were, I believe, cases in which they owed

most valuable assistance in life to his recollection of _the playhouse

row_." To this last part of Sir Alexander's testimony I can also add

mine; and I am sure my worthy friend, Mr. Donald M'Lean, W. S., will

gratefully confirm it. When that gentleman became candidate for some

office in the Exchequer, about 1822 or 1823, and Sir Walter's interest

was requested on his behalf,--"To be sure!" said he; "did not he sound

the charge upon Paddy? Can I ever forget Donald's _Sticks by

G----t_?"[113]

[Footnote 113: According to a friendly critic, one of the

Liberals exclaimed, as the _row_ was thickening, "No

Blows!"--and Donald, suiting the action to the word,

responded, "Plows by ----!"--(1839.)]

On {p.205} the 9th May, 1794, Charles Kerr of Abbotrule writes to

him--"I was last night at Rosebank, and your uncle told me he had been

giving you a very long and very sage lecture upon the occasion of

these Edinburgh squabbles; I am happy to hear they are now at an end.

They were rather of the serious cast, and though you encountered them

with spirit and commendable resolution, I, with your uncle, should

wish to see your abilities conspicuous on another theatre." The same

gentleman, in his next letter (June 3), congratulates Scott on having

"seen _his name in the newspaper_," namely, as counsel for another

Roxburghshire laird, by designation _Bedrule_. Such, no doubt, was

Abbotrule's "other theatre."

Scott spent the long vacation of this year chiefly in Roxburghshire,

but again visited Keir, Cambusmore, and others of his friends in

Perthshire, and came to Edinburgh, early in September, to be present

at the trials of Watt and Downie, on a charge of high treason. Watt

seems to have tendered his services to Government as a spy upon the

Society of the Friends of the People in Edinburgh, but ultimately,

considering himself as underpaid, to have embraced, to their wildest

extent, the schemes he had become acquainted with in the course of

this worthy occupation; and he, and one Downie, a mechanic, were now

arraigned as having taken a prominent part in the organizing of a plot

for a general rising in Edinburgh, to seize the Castle, the Bank, the

persons of the Judges, and proclaim a Provisional Republican

Government; all which was supposed to have been arranged in concert

with the Hardies, Thelwalls, Holcrofts, and so forth, who were a few

weeks later brought to trial in London for an alleged conspiracy to

"summon delegates to a National Convention, with a view to subvert the

Government, and levy war upon the King." The English prisoners were

acquitted, but Watt and Downie were not so fortunate. Scott writes as

follows to his aunt, Miss Christian Rutherford, then at Ashestiel, in

Selkirkshire:--

ADVOCATES' {p.206} LIBRARY, 5th September, 1794.

My dear Miss Christy will perceive, from the date of this

epistle, that I have accomplished my purpose of coming to town to

be present at the trial of the Edinburgh traitors. I arrived here

on Monday evening from Kelso, and was present at Watt's trial on

Wednesday, which displayed to the public the most atrocious and

deliberate plan of villainy which has occurred, perhaps, in the

annals of Great Britain. I refer you for particulars to the

papers, and shall only add, that the equivocations and perjury of

the witnesses (most of them being accomplices in what they called

the _great plan_) set the abilities of Mr. Anstruther, the King's

counsel, in the most striking point of view. The patience and

temper with which he tried them on every side, and screwed out of

them the evidence they were so anxious to conceal, showed much

knowledge of human nature; and the art with which he arranged the

information he received, made the trial, upon the whole, the most

interesting I ever was present at. Downie's trial is just now

going forwards over my head; but as the evidence is just the same

as formerly brought against Watt, is not so interesting. You will

easily believe that on Wednesday my curiosity was too much

excited to retire at an early hour, and, indeed, I sat in the

Court from seven in the morning till two the next morning; but as

I had provided myself with some cold meat and a bottle of wine, I

contrived to support the fatigue pretty well. It strikes me, upon

the whole, that the plan of these miscreants might, from its very

desperate and improbable nature, have had no small chance of

succeeding, at least as far as concerned cutting off the

soldiers, and obtaining possession of the banks, besides shedding

the blood of the most distinguished inhabitants. There, I think,

the evil must have stopped, unless they had further support than

has yet appeared. Stooks was the prime mover of the whole, and

the person who supplied the money; and our theatrical

disturbances are found to have {p.207} formed one link of the

chain. So, I have no doubt, Messrs. Stooks, Burk, etc., would

have found out a new way of paying old debts. The _people_ are

perfectly quiescent upon this grand occasion, and seem to

interest themselves very little in the fate of their _soi-disant

friends_. The Edinburgh volunteers make a respectable and

formidable appearance already. They are exercised four hours

almost every day, with all the rigor of military discipline. The

grenadier company consists entirely of men above six feet. So

much for public news.

As to home intelligence--you know that my mother and Anne had

projected a _jaunt_ to Inverleithen; fate, however, had destined

otherwise. The intended day of departure was ushered in by a most

complete deluge, to which, and the consequent disappointment, our

proposed travellers did not submit with that Christian meekness

which might have beseemed. In short, both within and without

doors, it was a _devil_ of a day. The second was like unto it.

The third day came a post, a killing post,[114] and in the shape

of a letter from this fountain of health, informed us no lodgings

were to be had there; so, whatever be its virtues, or the

grandeur attending a journey to its streams, we might as well

have proposed to visit the river Jordan, or the walls of Jericho.

Not so our heroic John; he has been arrived here for some time

(much the same as when he went away), and has formed the

desperate resolution of riding out with me to Kelso to-morrow

morning. I have stayed a day longer, waiting for the arrival of a

pair of new boots and buckskin etcs., in which the soldier is to

be equipt. I ventured to hint the convenience of a roll of

diaculum plaister, and a box of the most approved horseman-salve,

in which recommendation our doctor[115] warmly joined. His

impatience for the journey has been somewhat cooled by some

inclination yesterday {p.208} displayed by his charger (a pony

belonging to Anne) to lay his warlike rider in the dust--a

purpose he had nearly effected. He next mounted Queen Mab, who

treated him with little more complaisance, and, in carters'

phrase, would neither _hap_ nor _wynd_ till she got rid of him.

Seriously, however, if Jack has not returned covered with

laurels, a crop which the Rock[116] no longer produces, he has

brought back all his own good-nature, and a manner considerably

improved, so that he is at times very agreeable company. Best

love to Miss R., Jean, and Anne (I hope they are improved at the

battledore), and the boys, not forgetting my friend Archy, though

least not last in my remembrance. Best compliments to the

Colonel.[117] I shall remember with pleasure Ashestiel

hospitality, and not without a desire to put it to the proof next

year. Adieu, ma chère amie. When you write, direct to Rosebank,

and I shall be a good boy, and write you another sheet of

nonsense soon. All friends here well. Ever yours affectionately,

WALTER SCOTT.

[Footnote 114:

"The third day comes a frost, a killing frost."

_King Henry VIII_.]

[Footnote 115: Dr. Rutherford.]

[Footnote 116: Captain John Scott had been for some time with

his regiment at Gibraltar.]

[Footnote 117: Colonel Russell of Ashestiel, married to a

sister of Scott's mother.]

The letter, of which the following is an extract, must have been

written in October or November--Scott having been in Liddesdale, and

again in Perthshire, during the interval. It is worth quoting for the

little domestic allusions with which it concludes, and which every one

who has witnessed the discipline of a Presbyterian family of the old

school, at the time of preparation for _the Communion_, will perfectly

understand. Scott's father, though on particular occasions he could

permit himself, like Saunders Fairford, to play the part of a good

Amphitryon, was habitually ascetic in his habits. I have heard his son

tell, that it was common with him, if any one observed that the soup

was good, to taste it again, and say,--"Yes, {p.209} it is too good,

bairns," and dash a tumbler of cold water into his plate. It is easy,

therefore, to imagine with what rigidity he must have enforced the

ultra-Catholic severities which marked, in those days, the yearly or

half-yearly _retreat_ of the descendants of John Knox.

TO MISS CHRISTIAN RUTHERFORD, ASHESTIEL.

Previous to my ramble, I stayed a single day in town, to witness

the exit of the _ci-devant_ Jacobin, Mr. Watt. It was a very

solemn scene, but the pusillanimity of the unfortunate victim was

astonishing, considering the boldness of his nefarious plans. It

is matter of general regret that his associate Downie should have

received a reprieve, which, I understand, is now prolonged for a

second month, I suppose to wait the issue of the London trials.

Our volunteers are now completely embodied, and, notwithstanding

the heaviness of their dress, have a martial and striking

appearance. Their accuracy in firing and manoevring excites the

surprise of military gentlemen, who are the best judges of their

merit in that way. Tom is very proud of the grenadier company, to

which he belongs, which has indisputably carried off the palm

upon all public occasions. And now, give me leave to ask you

whether the approaching _winter_ does not remind you of your snug

parlor in George's Street? Do you not feel a little uncomfortable

when you see

"how bleak and bare

He wanders o'er the heights of _Yair_?"

Amidst all this regard for your accommodation, don't suppose I am

devoid of a little self-interest when I press your speedy return

to Auld Reekie, for I am really tiring excessively to see the

said parlor again inhabited, Besides that, I want the assistance

of your eloquence to convince my honored father that Nature did

not mean me either for a vagabond or _travelling merchant_, when

she honored {p.210} me with the wandering propensity lately so

conspicuously displayed. I saw Dr. yesterday, who is well. I did

not choose to intrude upon the little lady, this being sermon

week; for the same reason we are looking very religious and very

sour at home. However, it is with _some folk_ selon les règles,

that in proportion as they are pure themselves, they are entitled

to render uncomfortable those whom they consider as less perfect.

Best love to Miss R., cousins and friends in general, and believe

me ever most sincerely yours,

WALTER SCOTT.

In July, 1795, a young lad, James Niven by name, who had served for

some time with excellent character on board a ship of war, and been

discharged in consequence of a wound which disabled one of his hands,

had the misfortune, in firing off a toy cannon in one of the narrow

wynds of Edinburgh, to kill on the spot David Knox, one of the

attendants of the Court of Session; a button, or some other hard

substance, having been accidentally inserted with his cartridge. Scott

was one of his counsel when he was arraigned for murder, and had

occasion to draw up a written argument or _information_ for the

prisoner, from which I shall make a short quotation. Considered as a

whole, the production seems both crude and clumsy, but the following

passages have, I think, several traces of the style of thought and

language which he afterwards made familiar to the world:--

"Murder," he writes, "or the premeditated slaughter of a citizen,

is a crime of so deep and scarlet a dye, that there is scarce a

nation to be found in which it has not, from the earliest period,

been deemed worthy of a capital punishment. 'He who sheddeth

man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed,' is a general maxim

which has received the assent of all times and countries. But it

is equally certain that even the rude legislators of former days

soon perceived that the death of one man may be occasioned by

another, without the slayer himself being the proper object of

the _lex talionis_. Such an accident may happen {p.211} either

by the carelessness of the killer, or through that excess and

vehemence of passion to which humanity is incident. In either

case, though blamable, he ought not to be confounded with the

cool and deliberate assassin, and the species of criminality

attaching itself to those acts has been distinguished by the term

_dolus_, in opposition to the milder term _culpa_. Again, there

may be a third species of homicide, in which the perpetrator

being the innocent and unfortunate cause of casual misfortune,

becomes rather an object of compassion than punishment.

"Admitting there may have been a certain degree of culpability in

the panel's conduct, still there is one circumstance which pleads

strongly in his favor, so as to preclude all presumption of

_dole_. This is the frequent practice, whether proper or

improper, of using this amusement in the streets. It is a matter

of public notoriety, that boys of all ages and descriptions are,

or at least till the late very proper proclamation of the

magistrates were, to be seen every evening in almost every corner

of this city, amusing themselves with fire-arms and small

cannons, and that without being checked or interfered with. When

the panel, a poor ignorant raw lad, lately discharged from a ship

of war--certainly not the most proper school to learn a prudent

aversion to unlucky or mischievous practices--observed the sons

of gentlemen of the first respectability engaged in such

amusements, unchecked by their parents or by the magistrates,

surely it can hardly be expected that he should discover that in

imitating them in so common a practice, he was constituting

himself _hostis humani generis_, a wretch the pest and scourge of

mankind.

"There is, no doubt, attached to every even the most innocent of

casual slaughter, a certain degree of blame, inasmuch as almost

everything of the kind might have been avoided had the slayer

exhibited the strictest degree of diligence. A well-known and

authentic story will illustrate the proposition. A young

gentleman, just married to a young lady of whom he was

passionately fond, in affectionate trifling presented at her a

pistol, of which he had drawn the charge some days before. The

lady, entering into the joke, desired him to fire: he did so, and

shot her dead; the pistol having been again charged by his

servant without his knowledge. Can any one read this story, and

feel {p.212} any emotion but that of sympathy towards the

unhappy husband? Can they ever connect the case with an idea of

punishment? Yet, divesting it of these interesting circumstances

which act upon the imagination, it is precisely that of the panel

at your Lordships' Bar; and though no one will pretend to say

that such a homicide is other than casual, yet there is not the

slightest question but it might have been avoided had the killer

taken the precaution of examining his piece. But this is not the

degree of _culpa_ which can raise a misfortune to the pitch of a

crime. It is only an instance that no accident can take place

without its afterwards being discovered that the chief actor

might have avoided committing it, had he been gifted with the

spirit of prophecy, or with such an extreme degree of prudence as

is almost equally rare.

"In the instance of shooting at butts, or at a bird, the person

killed must have been somewhat in the line previous to the

discharge of the shot, otherways it could never have come near

him. The shooter must therefore have been guilty _culpæ levis seu

levissimæ_ in firing while the deceased was in such a situation.

In like manner, it is difficult to conceive how death should

happen in consequence of a boxing or wrestling match, without

some excess upon the part of the killer. Nay, in the exercise of

the martial amusements of our forefathers, even by royal

commission, should a champion be slain in running his barriers,

or performing his tournament, it could scarcely happen without

some _culpa seu levis seu levissima_, on the part of his

antagonist. Yet all these are enumerated in the English law-books

as instances of casual homicide only; and we may therefore safely

conclude, that by the law of the sister country a slight degree

of blame will not subject the slayer _per infortunium_ to the

penalties of culpable homicide.

"Guilt, as an object of punishment, has its origin in the mind

and intention of the actor; and therefore, where that is wanting,

there is no proper object of chastisement. A madman, for example,

can no more properly be said to be guilty of murder than the

sword with which he commits it, both being equally incapable of

intending injury. In the present case, in like manner, although

it ought no doubt to be matter of deep sorrow and contrition to

the panel that his folly should have occasioned the loss of life

to a fellow-creature; yet as that folly can neither be {p.213}

termed malice, nor yet doth amount to a gross negligence, he

ought rather to be pitied than condemned. The fact done can never

be recalled, and it rests with your Lordships to consider the

case of this unfortunate young man, who has served his country in

an humble though useful station,--deserved such a character as is

given him in the letter of his officers,--and been disabled in

that service. You will best judge how (considering he has

suffered a confinement of six months) he can in humanity be the

object of further or severer punishment, for a deed of which his

mind at least, if not his hand, is guiltless. When a case is

attended with some nicety, your Lordships will allow mercy to

incline the balance of justice, well considering with the

legislator of the East, 'It is better ten guilty should escape

than that one innocent man should perish in his innocence.'"

The young sailor was acquitted.

To return for a moment to Scott's love-affair. I find him writing as

follows, in March, 1795, to his cousin, William Scott, now Laird of

Raeburn, who was then in the East Indies:--"The lady you allude to has

been in town all this winter, and going a good deal into public, which

has not in the least altered the meekness of her manners. Matters, you

see, stand just as they did."

To another friend he writes thus, from Rosebank, on the 23d of August,

1795:--

It gave me the highest satisfaction to find, by the receipt of

your letter of the 14th current, that you have formed precisely

the same opinion with me, both with regard to the interpretation

of [Miss Stuart's] letter as highly flattering and favorable, and

to the mode of conduct I ought to pursue--for, after all, what

she has pointed out is the most prudent line of conduct for us

both, at least till better days, which, I think myself now

entitled to suppose, she, as well as I myself, will look forward

to with pleasure. If you were surprised at reading the {p.214}

important billet, you may guess how agreeably I was so at

receiving it; for I had, to anticipate disappointment, struggled

to suppress every rising gleam of hope; and it would be very

difficult to describe the mixed feelings her letter occasioned,

which, _entre nous_, terminated in a very hearty fit of crying. I

read over her epistle about ten times a day, and always with new

admiration of her generosity and candor--and as often take shame

to myself for the mean suspicions, which, after knowing her so

long, I could listen to, while endeavoring to guess how she would

conduct herself. To tell you the truth, I cannot but confess that

my _amour propre_, which one would expect should have been

exalted, has suffered not a little upon this occasion, through a

sense of my own _unworthiness_, pretty similar to that which

afflicted Linton upon sitting down at Keir's table. I ought

perhaps to tell you, what indeed you will perceive from her

letter, that I was always attentive, while consulting with you

upon the subject of my declaration, rather to under-than

over-rate the extent of our intimacy. By the way, I must not omit

mentioning the respect in which I hold your knowledge of the fair

sex, and your capacity of advising in these matters, since it

certainly is to your encouragement that I owe the present

situation of my affairs. I wish to God, that, since you have

acted as so useful an auxiliary during my attack, which has

succeeded in bringing the enemy to terms, you would next sit down

before some fortress yourself, and were it as impregnable as the

rock of Gibraltar, I should, notwithstanding, have the highest

expectations of your final success. Not a line from poor

Jack--What can he be doing? Moping, I suppose, about some

watering-place, and deluging his guts with specifics of every

kind--or lowering and snorting in one corner of a post-chaise,

with Kennedy, as upright and cold as a poker, stuck into the

other. As for Linton, and Crab, I anticipate with pleasure their

marvellous adventures, in the course of which Dr. {p.215}

Black's _self-denying ordinance_ will run a shrewd chance of

being neglected.[118] They will be a source of fun for the winter

evening conversations. Methinks I see the pair upon the mountains

of Tipperary--John with a beard of three inches, united and

blended with his shaggy black locks, an ellwand-looking cane with

a gilt head in his hand, and a bundle in a handkerchief over his

shoulder, exciting the cupidity of every Irish raparee who passes

him, by his resemblance to a Jew pedlar who has sent forward his

pack--Linton, tired of trailing his long legs, exalted in state

upon an Irish garron, without stirrups, and a halter on its head,

tempting every one to ask--

"Who is that upon the pony,

So long, so lean, so raw, so bony?"[119]

--calculating, as he moves along, the expenses of the salt

horse--and grinning a ghastly smile, when the hollow voice of his

fellow-traveller observes--"God! Adam, if ye gang on at this

rate, the eight shillings and seven-pence halfpenny will never

carry us forward to my uncle's at Lisburn." Enough of a thorough

Irish expedition.

We have a great marriage towards here--Scott of Harden, and a

daughter of Count Brühl, the famous chess-player, a lady of

sixteen quarters, half-sister to the Wyndhams. I wish they may

come down soon, as we shall have fine racketing, of which I will,

probably, get my share. I think of being in town some time next

month, but whether for good and all, or only for a visit, I

{p.216} am not certain. Oh, for November! Our meeting will be a

little embarrassing one. How will she look, etc., etc., etc., are

the important subjects of my present conjectures--how different

from what they were three weeks ago! I give you leave to laugh

when I tell you seriously, I had begun to "dwindle, peak, and

pine," upon the subject--but now, after the charge I have

received, it were a shame to resemble Pharaoh's lean kine. If

good living and plenty of exercise can avert that calamity, I am

in little danger of disobedience, and so, to conclude

classically,

Dicite Io poean, et Io bis dicite poean!--

Jubeo te bene valere,

GUALTERUS SCOTT.

[Footnote 118: _Crab_ was the nickname of a friend who had

accompanied Ferguson this summer on an Irish tour. Dr. Black,

celebrated for his discoveries in chemistry, was Adam

Ferguson's uncle; and had, it seems, given the young

travellers a strong admonition touching the dangers of Irish

hospitality.]

[Footnote 119: These lines are part of a song on

_Little-tony_--_i. e._, the Parliamentary orator Littleton.

They are quoted in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, originally

published in 1791.]

I have had much hesitation about inserting the preceding letter, but

could not make up my mind to omit what seems to me a most exquisite

revelation of the whole character of Scott at this critical period of

his history, both literary and personal;--more especially of his

habitual effort to suppress, as far as words were concerned, the more

tender feelings, which were in no heart deeper than in his.

It must, I think, have been, while he was indulging his _vagabond_

vein, during the autumn of 1795, that Mrs. Barbauld paid her visit to

Edinburgh, and entertained a party at Mr. Dugald Stewart's, by reading

Mr. William Taylor's then unpublished version of Bürger's Lenore. In

the essay on Imitation of Popular Poetry, the reader has a full

account of the interest with which Scott heard, some weeks afterwards,

a friend's imperfect recollections of this performance; the anxiety

with which he sought after a copy of the original German; the delight

with which he at length perused it; and how, having just been reading

the specimens of ballad poetry introduced into Lewis's romance of The

Monk, he called to mind the early facility of versification which had

lain so long in abeyance, {p.217} and ventured to promise his friend

a rhymed translation of Lenore from his own pen. The friend in

question was Miss Cranstoun, afterwards Countess of Purgstall, the

sister of his friend George Cranstoun, now Lord Corehouse. He began

the task, he tells us, after supper, and did not retire to bed until

he had finished it, having by that time worked himself into a state of

excitement which set sleep at defiance.

Next morning, before breakfast, he carried his MS. to Miss Cranstoun,

who was not only delighted but astonished at it; for I have seen a

letter of hers to a common friend in the country, in which she

says--"Upon my word, Walter Scott is going to turn out a

poet--something of a cross, I think, between Burns and Gray." The same

day he read it also to his friend Sir Alexander Wood, who retains a

vivid recollection of the high strain of enthusiasm into which he had

been exalted by dwelling on the wild unearthly imagery of the German

bard. "He read it over to me," says Sir Alexander, "in a very slow and

solemn tone, and after we had said a few words about its merits,

continued to look at the fire silent and musing for some minutes,

until he at length burst out with 'I wish to Heaven I could get a

skull and two cross-bones.'" Wood said that if Scott would accompany

him to the house of John Bell, the celebrated surgeon, he had no doubt

this wish might be easily gratified. They went thither accordingly on

the instant;--Mr. Bell smiled on hearing the object of their visit,

and pointing to a closet, at the corner of his library, bade Walter

enter and choose. From a well-furnished museum of mortality, he

selected forthwith what seemed to him the handsomest skull and pair of

cross-bones it contained, and wrapping them in his handkerchief,

carried the formidable bundle home to George's Square. The trophies

were immediately mounted on the top of his little bookcase; and when

Wood visited him, after many years of absence from this country, he

found them in possession of {p.218} a similar position in his

dressing-room at Abbotsford.[120]

[Footnote 120: Sir A. Wood was himself the son of a

distinguished surgeon in Edinburgh. He married one of the

daughters of Sir William Forbes--rose in the diplomatic

service--and died in 1846.--(1848.)]

All this occurred in the beginning of April, 1796. A few days

afterwards, Scott went to pay a visit at a country house, where he

expected to meet the "lady of his love." Jane Anne Cranstoun was in

the secret of his attachment, and knew, that however doubtful might be

Miss [Stuart's] feeling on that subject, she had a high admiration of

Scott's abilities, and often corresponded with him on literary

matters; so, after he had left Edinburgh, it occurred to her that she

might perhaps forward his views in this quarter, by presenting him in

the character of a printed author. William Erskine being called into

her councils, a few copies of the ballad were forthwith thrown off in

the most elegant style, and one, richly bound and blazoned, followed

Scott in the course of a few days to the country. The verses were read

and approved of, and Miss Cranstoun at least flattered herself that he

had not made his first appearance in types to no purpose.[121]

[Footnote 121: This story was told by the Countess of

Purgstall on her deathbed to Captain Basil Hall. See his

_Schloss Hainfeld_, p. 333.]

I ought to have mentioned before, that in June, 1795, he was appointed

one of the curators of the Advocates' Library, an office always

reserved for those members of the Faculty who have the reputation of

superior zeal in literary affairs. He had for colleagues David Hume,

the Professor of Scots Law, and Malcolm Laing, the historian; and his

discharge of his functions must have given satisfaction, for I find

him further nominated, in March, 1796, together with Mr. Robert

Hodgson Cay--an accomplished gentleman, afterwards Judge of the

Admiralty Court in Scotland--to "put the Faculty's cabinet of medals

in proper arrangement."

On {p.219} the 4th of June, 1796 (the birthday of George III.), there

seems to have been a formidable riot in Edinburgh, and Scott is found

again in the front. On the 5th, he writes as follows to his aunt,

Christian Rutherford, who was then in the north of Scotland, and had

meant to visit, among other places, the residence of the "chère

adorable."

EDINBURGH, 5th June, 1796.

MY CHÈRE AMIE,--Nothing doubting that your curiosity will be upon

the tenters to hear the wonderful events of the long-expected 4th

of June, I take the pen to inform you that not one worth

mentioning has taken place. Were I inclined to prolixity, I

might, indeed, narrate at length _how_ near a thousand gentlemen

(myself among the number) offered their services to the

magistrates to act as _constables_ for the preservation of the

peace--how their services were accepted--what fine speeches were

made upon the occasion--_how_ they were furnished with pretty

painted brown _batons_--_how_ they were assembled in the aisle of

the New Church, and treated with claret and sweetmeats--_how_ Sir

John Whiteford was chased by the mob, and _how_ Tom, Sandy Wood,

and I rescued him, and dispersed his tormentors _à beaux coups de

batons_--_how_ the Justice-Clerk's windows were broke by a few

boys, and _how_ a large body of constables and a press-gang of

near two hundred men arrived, and were much disappointed at

finding the coast entirely clear; with many other matters of

equal importance, but of which you must be contented to remain in

ignorance till you return to your castle. Seriously, everything,

with the exception of the very trifling circumstances above

mentioned, was perfectly quiet--much more so than during any

King's birthday I can recollect. That very stillness, however,

shows that something is brewing among our friends the Democrats,

which they will take their own time of bringing forward. By the

wise precautions of the magistrates, or rather of the provost,

and {p.220} the spirited conduct of the gentlemen, I hope their

designs will be frustrated. Our association meets to-night, when

we are to be divided into districts according to the place of our

abode, places of rendezvous and captains named; so that, upon the

hoisting of a flag on the Tron-steeple, and ringing out all the

large bells, we can be on duty in less than five minutes. I am

sorry to say that the complexion of the town seems to justify all

precautions of this kind. I hope we shall demean ourselves as

_quiet_ and _peaceable_ magistrates; and intend, for the purpose

of learning the duties of my new office, to con diligently the

instructions delivered to the watch by our brother Dogberry, of

facetious memory. So much for information. By way of inquiry,

pray let me know--that is, when you find a very idle hour--how

you accomplished the perilous passage of her Majestie's Ferry

without the assistance and escort of your preux-chevalier, and

whether you will receive them on your return--how Miss R. and you

are spending your time, whether stationary or otherwise--above

all, whether you have been at [Invermay] and all the etcs.,

etcs., which the question involves. Having made out a pretty long

scratch, which, as Win Jenkins says, will take you some time to

decipher, I shall only inform you farther, that I shall tire

excessively till you return to your shop. I beg to be remembered

to Miss Kerr, and in particular to La Belle Jeanne. Best love to

Miss Rutherford; and believe me ever, my dear Miss Christy,

sincerely and affectionately your

WALTER SCOTT

During the autumn of 1796 he visited again his favorite haunts in

Perthshire and Forfarshire. It was in the course of this tour that he

spent a day or two at Montrose with his old tutor Mitchell, and

astonished and grieved that worthy Presbyterian by his zeal about

witches and fairies.[122] The only letter of his, written during this

{p.221} expedition, that I have recovered, was addressed to another

of his clerical friends--one by no means of Mitchell's stamp--Mr.

Walker, the minister of Dunnottar, and it is chiefly occupied with an

account of his researches at a vitrified fort, in Kincardineshire,

commonly called Lady Fenella's Castle, and, according to tradition,

the scene of the murder of Kenneth III. While in the north, he visited

also the residence of the lady who had now for so many years been the

object of his attachment; and that his reception was not adequate to

his expectations, may be gathered pretty clearly from some expressions

in a letter addressed to him when at Montrose by his friend and

confidante, Miss Cranstoun:--

TO WALTER SCOTT, ESQ., POST-OFFICE, MONTROSE.

DEAR SCOTT,--Far be it from me to affirm that there are no

diviners in the land. The voice of the people and the voice of

God are loud in their testimony. Two years ago, when I was in the

neighborhood of Montrose, we had recourse for amusement one

evening to chiromancy, or, as the vulgar say, having our fortunes

read; and read mine were in such a sort, that either my letters

must have been inspected, or the devil was by in his own proper

person. I never mentioned the circumstance since, for obvious

reasons; but now that you are on the spot, I feel it my bounden

duty to conjure you not to put your shoes rashly from off your

feet, for you are not standing on holy ground.

I bless the gods for conducting your poor dear soul safely to

Perth. When I consider the wilds, the forests, the lakes, the

rocks--and the spirits in which you must have whispered to their

startled echoes, it amazeth me how you escaped. Had you but

dismissed your little squire and Earwig,[123] and spent a few

days as Orlando would have done, all posterity might have

profited by it; but to trot quietly away, without so much as one

stanza to despair--never talk to me of love again--never, never,

never! I am dying for your collection of exploits. When {p.222}

will you return? In the mean time, Heaven speed you! Be sober,

and hope to the end.

William Taylor's translation of your ballad is published, and so

inferior, that I wonder we could tolerate it. Dugald Stewart read

yours to **** the other day. When he came to the fetter

dance,[124] he looked up, and poor ***** was sitting with his hands

nailed to his knees, and the big tears rolling down his innocent

nose in so piteous a manner, that Mr. Stewart could not help

bursting out a-laughing. An angry man was *****. have seen another

edition, too, but it is below contempt. So many copies make the

ballad famous, so that every day adds to your renown.

This here place is very, very dull. Erskine is in London; my dear

Thomson at Daily; Macfarlan hatching Kant--and George[125]

Fountainhall.[126] I have nothing more to tell you, but that I am

most affectionately yours. Many an anxious thought I have about

you. Farewell.--J. A. C.

[Footnote 122: See _ante_, p. 97.]

[Footnote 123: A servant-boy and pony.]

[Footnote 124:

"'Dost fear? dost fear?--The moon shines clear;--

Dost fear to ride with, me?

Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!'--

Oh, William, let them be!'

"'See there! see there! What yonder swings

And creaks 'mid whistling rain?'--

Gibbet and steel, the accursed wheel,

A murderer in his chain.

"'Hollo! thou felon, follow here,

To bridal bed we ride;

And thou shalt prance a fetter dance

Before me and my bride.'

"And hurry, hurry! clash, clash, clash!

The wasted form descends;

And fleet as wind, through hazel bush,

The wild career attends.

"Tramp, tramp! along the land they rode;

Splash, splash! along the sea;

The scourge is red, the spur drops blood.

The flashing pebbles flee."]

[Footnote 125: George Cranstoun, Lord Corehouse.]

[Footnote 126: Decisions by Lord Fountainhall.]

The {p.223} affair in which this romantic creature took so lively an

interest was now approaching its end. It was known, before this autumn

closed, that the lady of his vows had finally promised her hand to his

amiable rival; and, when the fact was announced, some of those who

knew Scott the best appear to have entertained very serious

apprehensions as to the effect which the disappointment might have

upon his feelings. For example, one of those brothers of _the

Mountain_ wrote as follows to another of them, on the 12th October,

1796: "Mr. [Forbes] marries Miss [Stuart]. This is not good news. I

always dreaded there was some self-deception on the part of our

romantic friend, and I now shudder at the violence of his most

irritable and ungovernable mind. Who is it that says, 'Men have died,

and worms have eaten them, but not for LOVE'? I hope sincerely it may

be verified on this occasion."

Scott had, however, in all likelihood, digested his agony during the

solitary ride in the Highlands to which Miss Cranstoun's last letter

alludes.

Talking of this story with Lord Kinnedder, I once asked him whether

Scott never made it the subject of verses at the period. His own

confession, that, even during the time when he had laid aside the

habit of versification, he did sometimes commit "a sonnet on a

mistress's eyebrow," had not then appeared. Lord Kinnedder answered,

"Oh yes, he made many little stanzas about the lady, and he sometimes

showed them to Cranstoun, Clerk, and myself--but we really thought

them in general very poor. Two things of the kind, however, have been

preserved--and one of them was done just after the conclusion of the

business." He then took down a volume of the English Minstrelsy, and

pointed out to me some lines On a Violet, which had not at that time

been included in Scott's collected works. Lord Kinnedder read them

over in his usual impressive, though not quite unaffected, manner, and

said, "I remember well, that when I first saw {p.224} these, I told

him they were his best, but he had touched them up afterwards."

"The violet in her greenwood bower,

Where birchen boughs with hazels mingle,

May boast itself the fairest flower

In glen or copse or forest dingle.

"Though fair her gems of azure hue

Beneath the dewdrop's weight reclining,

I've seen an eye of lovelier blue

More sweet through watery lustre shining.

"The summer sun that dew shall dry,

Ere yet the sun be past its morrow,

Nor longer in my false love's eye

Remained the tear of parting sorrow!"

In turning over a volume of MS. papers, I have found a copy of verses,

which, from the hand, Scott had evidently written down within the last

ten years of his life. They are headed "To Time--by a Lady;" but

certain _initials_ on the back satisfy me that the authoress was no

other than the object of his first passion.[127] I think I must be

pardoned for transcribing the lines which had dwelt so long on his

memory--leaving it to the reader's fancy to picture the mood of mind

in which the fingers of a gray-haired man may have traced such a relic

of his youthful dreams:--

"Friend of the wretch oppress'd with grief,

Whose lenient hand, though slow, supplies

The balm that lends to care relief,

That wipes her tears--that checks her sighs!

"'Tis thine the wounded soul to heal

That hopeless bleeds from sorrow's smart,

From stern misfortune's shaft to steal

The barb that rankles in the heart.

"What {p.225} though with thee the roses fly,

And jocund youth's gay reign is o'er;

Though dimm'd the lustre of the eye,

And hope's vain dreams enchant no more?

"Yet in thy train come dove-eyed peace,

Indifference with her heart of snow;

At her cold couch, lo! sorrows cease,

No thorns beneath her roses grow.

"O haste to grant thy suppliant's prayer,

To me thy torpid calm impart;

Rend from my brow youth's garland fair,

But take the thorn that's in my heart.

"Ah! why do fabling poets tell

That thy fleet wings outstrip the wind?

Why feign thy course of joy the knell,

And call thy slowest pace unkind?

"To me thy tedious feeble pace

Comes laden with the weight of years;

With sighs I view morn's blushing face,

And hail mild evening with my tears."

[Footnote 127: A very intimate friend both of Scott and of

the lady tells me that these verses were great favorites of

hers--she gave himself a copy of them, and no doubt her

recitation had made them known to Scott--but that he believes

them to have been composed by Mrs. Hunter of

Norwich.--(1839.)]

I venture to recall here to the reader's memory the opening of the

twelfth chapter of Peveril of the Peak, written twenty-six years after

the date of this youthful disappointment.

"Ah me! for aught that ever I could read,

Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth!"

_Midsummer Night's Dream._

"The celebrated passage which we have prefixed to this chapter has,

like most observations of the same author, its foundation in real

experience. The period at which love is formed for the first time, and

felt most strongly, is seldom that at which there is much prospect of

its being brought to a happy issue. The state of artificial society

opposes many complicated obstructions to early marriages; and the

chance is very great, that such obstacles prove insurmountable. In

fine, there are few men who do not look back in secret to some period

of their {p.226} youth, at which a sincere and early affection was

repulsed or betrayed, or became abortive from opposing circumstances.

It is these little passages of secret history, which leave a tinge of

romance in every bosom, scarce permitting us, even in the most busy or

the most advanced period of life, to listen with total indifference to

a tale of true love."