LIFE
OF
SIR WALTER SCOTT.
LIFE OF
SIR WALTER SCOTT
BY
ROBERT CHAMBERS. LL.D.
WITH
ABBOTSFORD NOTANDA
BY
ROBERT CARRUTHERS, LL.D.
[Illustration: View of Abbotsford and grounds from the Tweed.]
EDITED BY W. CHAMBERS.
W. & R. CHAMBERS,
EDINBURGH AND LONDON.
1871.
LIFE
OF
SIR WALTER SCOTT
BY ROBERT CHAMBERS, LL.D.
WITH
ABBOTSFORD NOTANDA
BY ROBERT CARRUTHERS, LL.D.
EDITED BY W. CHAMBERS
W. & R. CHAMBERS
LONDON AND EDINBURGH
1871
Edinburgh:
Printed by W. and R. Chambers.
PREFATORY NOTE.
The present Memoir of Sir Walter Scott was written by my brother,
the late Dr R. Chambers, immediately after the decease of the great
novelist, and having been issued at a small price for popular reading,
had what was then considered a large circulation--180,000 copies.
It was subsequently republished, with some improvements. The Memoir
is now reproduced in somewhat better style, as a small but fitting
contribution in homage of the great man, the centenary of whose birth,
15th August 1871, is about to be very generally celebrated. I have
taken the liberty of adding only a few paragraphs, distinguishable
by being enclosed within brackets. The principal of these insertions
refers to the manner in which my brother had the honour to become
acquainted with, and acquired the esteem of, Sir Walter Scott.
To the Memoir are now appropriately appended certain ‘Abbotsford
Notanda,’ descriptive of the friendly intercourse which long subsisted
between Sir Walter and his factor and amanuensis, William Laidlaw,
prepared by one well qualified to write on the subject, Dr R.
Carruthers, Inverness.
W. C.
EDINBURGH, _June 1871_.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PARENTAGE 1
BIRTH--BIRTHPLACE--EARLY SCENES 8
THE LAND OF SCOTT 10
SCHOOL-BOY DAYS 16
UNIVERSITY 25
PROFESSION 28
POLITICAL OPINIONS--SOLDIERING 33
VISIT TO PEEBLESSHIRE 35
MARRIAGE 37
POEMS 42
WAVERLEY NOVELS 51
SIR WALTER AND MR R. CHAMBERS 64
LATER NOVELS, AND LIFE OF NAPOLEON 67
PECUNIARY MISFORTUNES 70
LATER EXERTIONS 82
CONCLUDING YEARS--DECEASE 87
PERSONAL APPEARANCE 97
CHARACTER 99
CONCLUSION 105
ABBOTSFORD NOTANDA 109
LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.
PARENTAGE.
Sir Walter Scott was one of the sons of Walter Scott, Esq., Writer to
the Signet, by Anne, daughter of Dr John Rutherford, Professor of the
Practice of Medicine in the University of Edinburgh.
His paternal grandfather, Mr Robert Scott, farmer at Sandyknow, in
the vicinity of Smailholm Tower, in Roxburghshire, was the son of Mr
Walter Scott, a younger son of Walter Scott of Raeburn, who in his
turn was third son of Sir William Scott of Harden, in which family the
chieftainship of the race of Scott is now understood to reside. Sir
Walter’s grandfather, Mr Robert Scott, farmer at Sandyknow, as we learn
from the _Border Antiquities_, ‘though both descended from and allied
to several respectable Border families, was chiefly distinguished for
the excellent good sense and independent spirit which enabled him to
lead the way in agricultural improvement--then a pursuit abandoned to
persons of a very inferior description. His memory was long preserved
in Teviotdale, and still survives, as that of an active and intelligent
farmer, and the father of a family all of whom were distinguished by
talents, probity, and remarkable success in the pursuits which they
adopted.’
Walter, the third son of Sir William Scott of Harden, lived at the time
of the Restoration, and embraced the tenets of Quakerism, which at
that period made their way into Scotland. For this he endured a degree
of persecution for which it is now difficult to assign a reason. The
Scottish Privy-council, by an edict dated June 20, 1665, directed his
brother, the existing representative of the Harden family, to take away
his three children, and educate them separately, so that they might
not become infected with the same heresy; and, for doing so, he was to
be entitled to sue his brother for the maintenance of the children. By
a second edict, dated July 5, 1666, the Council directed two thousand
pounds Scots money to be paid by the Laird of Raeburn for this purpose;
and, as he was now confined in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, where he
was liable to be further tainted by converse with others of the same
sect there also imprisoned, the Council further ordered him to be
transported to the jail of Jedburgh, where no one was to have access
to him but such as might be expected, to convert him from his present
principles.
Walter, the second son of this gentleman, and father to the novelist’s
grandfather, received a good education at Glasgow College, under
the protection of his uncle. He was a zealous Jacobite--a friend and
correspondent of Dr Pitcairn--and made a vow never to shave his beard
till the exiled House of Stuart should be restored; whence he acquired
the name of _Beardie_.
Dr John Rutherford, maternal grandfather to the subject of this memoir,
was one of four Scottish pupils of Boerhaave, who, in the early part
of the last century, contributed to establish the high character of
the Edinburgh University as a school of medicine. He was the first
Professor of the Practice of Physic in the university, to which office
he was elected in 1727, and which he resigned in 1766, in favour of
the celebrated Dr John Gregory. He was also the first person who
delivered lectures on Clinical Medicine in the Infirmary. His son, Dr
Daniel Rutherford, maternal uncle to the novelist, was afterwards, for
a long period, Professor of Botany in the Edinburgh University, and
further distinguished by his great proficiency in chemistry. Dr D.
Rutherford was one of the cleverest scientific men of his day; and,
but for certain unimportant circumstances, would have been preferred
to the high honour of succeeding Black in the chair of Chemistry. When
he took his degree in 1772, Pneumatic Chemistry was in its infancy.
Upon this occasion he published a thesis, in which the doctrines
respecting gaseous bodies are laid down with great perspicuity, as
far as they were then known, and an account also given of a series of
experiments made by himself, which discover much ingenuity and address.
He was the first European chemist who, if the expression may be used,
_discovered_ nitrogen. Had he proceeded a single step farther, he would
have anticipated the discoveries of Priestley, Scheele, and Lavoisier,
respecting oxygen, which have rendered their names immortal. As it
was, the experiments and discoveries of Dr Rutherford made his name
respected all over Europe.
The wife of Dr John Rutherford, and maternal grandmother of Sir
Walter Scott, was Jean Swinton, daughter of Swinton of Swinton, in
Berwickshire, one of the oldest families in Scotland, and at one period
very powerful. Sir Walter has introduced a chivalric representative of
this race into his drama of _Halidon Hill_. The grandfather of Jean
Swinton was Sir John Swinton, the twentieth baron in lineal descent,
and the son of the celebrated Judge Swinton, to whom, along with Sir
William Lockhart of Lee, Cromwell intrusted the chief management of
civil affairs in Scotland during his usurpation. Lord Swinton, as he
was called, in virtue of his judicial character, was seized, after the
Restoration, and brought down to Scotland for trial, in the same vessel
with the Marquis of Argyll. It was generally expected that one who had
played so conspicuous a part in the late usurpation, would not elude
the vengeance of the new government. He escaped, however, by suddenly
adopting the tenets of the society to which Walter Scott of Raeburn
afterwards attached himself. On being brought before the parliament for
trial, he rejected all means of legal defence; and his simply penitent
appearance and venerable aspect wrought so far with his judges, that
he was acquitted, while less obnoxious men were condemned. It was
from this extraordinary person, and while confined along with him in
Edinburgh Castle, that Colonel David Barclay, father of Robert Barclay,
the eminent author of the _Apology for the Quakers_, contracted those
sentiments which afterwards shone forth with such remarkable lustre in
his son.
While the ancestry of Sir Walter Scott is thus shewn to have been
somewhat more than respectable, it must be also stated, that, in his
character as a man, a citizen, or a professional agent, there could not
be a more worthy member of society than his immediate parent. Mr Walter
Scott, born in 1729, and admitted as a Writer to the Signet in 1755,
was by no means a man of shining abilities. He was, however, a steady,
expert man of business, insomuch as to prosper considerably in life;
and nothing could exceed the gentleness, sincerity, and benevolence
of his character. For many years, he held the honourable office of an
elder in the parish church of Old Greyfriars, while Dr Robertson, the
historian of _America_ and _Charles V._, acted as one of the ministers.
The other clergyman was Dr John Erskine, much more distinguished as
a divine, and of whom Sir Walter has given an animated picture in
his novel of _Guy Mannering_. The latter person led the more zealous
party of the Church of Scotland, in opposition to his colleague, Dr
Robertson, who swayed the moderate and predominating party; and it is
believed that, although a Jacobite, and employed mostly by that party,
the religious impressions of Mr Scott were more akin to the doctrines
maintained by Erskine, than those professed by Robertson.
Mrs Scott, while she boasted a less prepossessing exterior than
her husband, was enabled, partly by the more literary character of
her connections and education, and more perhaps by native powers
of intellect, to make a greater impression in conversation. It has
thus become a conceded point, that Sir Walter derived his abilities
almost exclusively from this parent. Without pretending to judge in
a matter of such delicacy, it may at least be allowed that the young
poet was at first greatly indebted to his mother for an introduction
to the literary society of which her father and brother were such
distinguished ornaments. It has somewhere been alleged that Mrs
Scott, who was an intimate friend of Allan Ramsay, Blacklock, and
other poetical wits of the last century, wrote verses, like them, in
the vernacular language of Scotland. But this can be denied, upon
the testimony of her own son. The mistake has probably arisen in
consequence of a Mrs Scott of Wauchope, whose maiden name was likewise
Rutherford, having published poetry of her own composition. Mrs Walter
Scott, who was altogether a woman of the highest order of intellect
and character, was, at an early age, deemed worthy by her father
to be intrusted with the charge of his house, during his temporary
widowhood; and thus she possessed opportunities enjoyed by few young
ladies of her own age, and of the period when she lived, of mixing
in literary society. It is unquestionable that this circumstance
was likely to have some effect in later life upon her son, with the
training of whose mind she must, in virtue of her maternal character,
have had more to do than her husband. It may be further mentioned that
Mrs Scott had been principally educated by a reduced gentlewoman,
a Mrs Euphemia Sinclair (grand-daughter of Sir Robert Sinclair of
Longformacus), who kept a school for young ladies in the now wretched
precincts of Blackfriars’ Wynd, in Edinburgh, and who had the honour
of educating many of the female nobility and gentry of Scotland, some
of whom were her own relations. Sir Walter’s own words respecting
this person are given in the work entitled _Traditions of Edinburgh_:
‘To judge by the proficiency of her scholars, although much of what is
called accomplishment might then be left untaught, she must have been
possessed of uncommon talents for education; for all the ladies above
mentioned’ [the list includes Mrs Scott] ‘had well-cultivated minds,
were fond of reading, wrote and spelled admirably, were well acquainted
with history and with the belles-lettres, without neglecting the more
homely duties of the needle and accompt-book; and, while two of them’
[meaning, as there is reason to believe, Mrs Scott, and Mrs Murray
Keith, the Mrs Bethune Baliol of the _Chronicles of the Canongate_]
‘were women of extraordinary talents, all of them were perfectly well
bred in society.’ Sir Walter further communicated that his mother, and
many others of Mrs Sinclair’s pupils, were sent, according to a fashion
then prevalent in good society, to be _finished off_ by the Honourable
Mrs Ogilvie, lady of the Honourable Patrick Ogilvie of Longmay, whose
brother, the Earl of Seafield, was so instrumental, as Chancellor of
Scotland, in carrying through the union with England. Mrs Ogilvie
trained her young friends to a style of manners which would now be
considered intolerably stiff; for instance, no young lady, in sitting,
was permitted ever to touch the back of her chair. Such was the effect
of this early training upon the mind of Mrs Scott, that even when she
approached her eightieth year, she took as much care to avoid touching
her chair with her back as if she had still been under the stern eye of
Mrs Ogilvie.
BIRTH--BIRTHPLACE--EARLY SCENES.
Sir Walter Scott was born at Edinburgh on the 15th of August 1771,
being the birthday of the great European hero [Napoleon] whose deeds
he was afterwards to record. He was the third of a family consisting
of six sons and one daughter. The eldest son, John, attained to a
captaincy in an infantry regiment, but was early obliged to retire
from service on account of the delicate state of his health. Another
elder brother, Daniel, was a sailor, but died in early life. Of him Sir
Walter has often been heard to assert, that he was by far the cleverest
and most interesting of the whole. Thomas, the next brother to Sir
Walter, followed the father’s profession, and was for some years factor
to the Marquis of Abercorn, but eventually died in Canada in 1822, in
the capacity of paymaster to the 70th Regiment. Sir Walter himself
entertained a fondly high opinion of the talents of this brother; but
it is not borne out by the sense of his other friends. He possessed,
however, some burlesque humour, and an acquaintance with Scottish
manners and character--qualities which were apt to impose a little,
and even induced some individuals to believe, for some time, that he,
rather than his more gifted brother, was the author of ‘The Novels.’
Existence opened upon the author of _Waverley_ in one of the duskiest
parts of the ancient capital, which he has been pleased to apostrophise
in _Marmion_ as his ‘own romantic town.’ At the time of his birth, and
for some time after, his father lived at the head of the College Wynd,
a narrow alley leading from the Cowgate to the gate of the college.
The two lower flats of the house were occupied by Mr Keith, W.S.,
grandfather of the Knight Marischal of Scotland, and Mr Walter Scott
lodged on the third floor, his part of the mansion being accessible by
a stair behind.
It was a house of what would now be considered humble aspect, but at
that time neither humble from its individual appearance nor from its
vicinage. As it stood on the line necessary for the opening of a street
along the north skirt of the new university buildings, it was destroyed
on that occasion, and never rebuilt. Speaking of this house in a series
of notes communicated to a local antiquary in 1825, Sir Walter said:
‘It consisted of two flats above Mr Keith’s, and belonged to my father,
Mr Walter Scott, Writer to the Signet; there I had the chance to be
born, 15th August 1771. My father, soon after my birth, removed to
George’s Square, and let the house in the College Wynd, first to Mr
Dundas of Philipstoun, and afterwards to Mr William Keith, father of
Sir Alexander Keith. It was purchased by the public, together with Mr
Keith’s’ [the inferior floors], ‘and pulled down to make way for the
new college.’
It appears, however, that, before Sir Walter could receive any
impressions from the romantic scenery of the Old Town of Edinburgh, he
was removed, on account of the delicacy of his health, to the country,
and lived for a considerable period under the charge of his paternal
grandfather at Sandyknow. This farm is situated upon high ground, near
the bottom of Leader Water, and overlooks a large part of the vale of
Tweed. In the immediate neighbourhood of the farm-house, upon a rocky
foundation, stood the Border fortlet called Smailholm Tower, which
possessed many features to attract the attention of the young poet. It
was his early residence at this romantic spot that imparted an intense
affection for the southern part of Scotland, to which he finally
adjourned. Some account of the district which he so dearly loved may
here properly be given.
THE LAND OF SCOTT.
The district which this mighty genius has appropriated as his own,
may be described as restricted in a great measure to the counties of
Roxburgh and Selkirk, the former of which is the central part of the
frontier or Border of Scotland, noted of old for the warlike character
of its inhabitants, and even, till a comparatively late period, for
certain predatory habits, unlike anything that obtained at the same
time, at least in the southern portion of Scotland. Though born in
Edinburgh, Walter Scott was descended from Roxburghshire families,
and was familiar in his early years with both the scenery and the
inhabitants, and the history and traditions, of that romantic land.
He was indeed fed with the legendary lore of the Borders as with a
mother’s milk; and it was this, no doubt, which gave his mind so
remarkable a taste for the manners of the middle ages, to the exclusion
of all sympathy for either the ideas of the ancient classics, or the
literature of modern manners. There was something additionally engaging
to a mind like his in the poetical associations which have so long
rendered this region the very Arcadia of Scotland. The Tweed, flowing
majestically from one end of it to the other; the Teviot, a scarcely
less noble tributary; with all the lesser streams connected with these
two--the Jed, the Gala, the Ettrick, the Yarrow, and the Quair--had,
from the revival of Scottish poetry, been sung by unnumbered bards,
many of whose names have perished, like flowers, from the face of the
earth which they adorned. From all these associations mingled together,
did the mind of this transcendent genius draw its first and its
happiest inspiration.
The general character of this district of Scotland is pastoral. Here
and there, along the banks of the streams, there are alluvial strips
called _haughs_, all of which are finely cultivated; and the plough, in
many places, has ascended the hill to a considerable height; but the
land in general is a succession of pastoral eminences, which are either
green to the top, or swathed in dusky heath, unless where a patch of
young and green wood seeks to soften the climate and the soil. Much of
the land still belongs to the Duke of Buccleuch, and other descendants
of noted Border chiefs, and it annually supplies much of what both
clothes and feeds the British population. Being little intruded upon by
manufactures, or any other thing calculated to introduce new ideas, its
population exhibit, in general, those primitive features of character
which are so invariably found to characterise a pastoral people. Even
where, in such cases as Hawick and Galashiels, manufactures have
established an isolated seat, the people are hardly distinguishable, in
simplicity and homely virtues, from the tenants of the hills.
Starting at Kelso upon an excursion over this country, the traveller
would soon reach Roxburgh, where the Teviot and the Tweed are joined--a
place noted in early Scottish history for the importance of its town
and castle, now alike swept away. Pursuing upwards the course of the
Teviot, he would first be tempted aside into the sylvan valley of
the Jed, on the banks of which stands the ancient and picturesque
town of Jedburgh, and whose beauties have been rapturously described
by Thomson, who spent many of his youngest and happiest years amidst
its beautiful _braes_. Farther up, the Teviot is joined by the Aill,
and, farther up still, by the Rule, a rivulet whose banks were once
occupied almost exclusively by the warlike clans of Turnbull and
Rutherford. Next is the Slitrig, and next the Borthwick; after which,
the accessories of this mountain stream cease to be distinguished.
Every stream has its valley; every valley has its particular class
of inhabitants--its own tales, songs, and traditions; and when the
traveller contrasts its noble hills and clear trotting _burnies_ with
the tame landscapes of ‘merry England,’ he is at no loss to see how the
natives of a mountainous region come to distinguish their own country
so much in poetical recollection, and behold it with such exclusive
love. When the Englishman is absent from his home, he sees a scene
not greatly different from what he is accustomed to, and regards his
absence with very little feeling. But when a native of these secluded
vales visits another district, he finds an alien peculiarity in every
object; the hills are of a different height and vesture; the streams
are different in size, or run in a different direction. Everything
tells him that he is not at home. And, when returning to his own glen,
how every distant hill-top comes out to his sight as a familiar and
companionable object! How every less prominent feature reminds him of
that place which, of all the earth, he calls _his own_! Even when he
crosses what is termed the height of the country, and but sees the
waters running _towards_ that cherished place, his heart is distended
with a sense of home and kindred, and he throws his very soul upon
the stream, that it may be carried before him to the spot where he has
garnered up all his most valued affections.
There is one part of Roxburghshire which does not belong to the great
vale of the Tweed, and yet is as essentially as any a part of the Land
of Scott. This is Liddesdale, or the vale of the Liddel, a stream which
seeks the Solway, and forms part of the more westerly border. Nothing
out of Spain could be more wild or lonely than this pastoral vale,
which once harboured the predatory clans of Elliot and Armstrong, but
is now occupied by a race of more than usually primitive sheep-farmers.
It is absolutely overrun with song and legend, of which Sir Walter
Scott reaped an ample harvest for his _Border Minstrelsy_, including
the fine old ballads of _Dick o’ the Cow_ and _Jock o’ the Syde_.
It may be said, indeed, that, of all places in the south of Scotland,
the attention of the great novelist was first fixed upon Liddesdale.
In his second literary effort--the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_--he
confined himself in a great measure to Teviotdale, in the upper part
of which, about three miles above Hawick, stands Branxholm Castle, the
chief scene of the poem. The old house has been much altered since
the supposed era of the _Lay_; but it has nevertheless more of an
ancient than a modern appearance, and does not much disappoint a modern
beholder. For a long time, the Buccleuch family have left it to the
occupancy of the individuals who act as their agents or chamberlains
on this part of their extensive property; and it is at present kept in
the best order, and surrounded by some fine woods of ancient and modern
growth. Seated on a lofty bank, it still overlooks that stream, and is
overtopped by those hills, to which, it will be recollected, ‘the lady’
successively addressed her witching incantations.
The small vale of Borthwick Water, which starts off from the strath
of the Teviot a little above Hawick, contains a scene which cannot
well be overlooked--namely, Harden Castle, the original though now
deserted seat of the family of Scott of Harden, from which, through the
Raeburn branch, Sir Walter Scott was descended. This, though neglected
alike by its proprietor and by tourists, is one of the most remarkable
pieces of scenery which we, who have travelled over nearly the whole of
Scotland, have yet seen within its shores. Conceive, first, the lonely
pastoral beauty of the vale of Borthwick; next, a minor vale receding
from its northern side, full of old and emaciated, but still beautiful
wood: penetrating this recess for a little way, the traveller sees,
perched upon a lofty height in front, and beaming perhaps in the sun,
a house which, though not picturesque in its outline, derives that
quality in a high degree from its situation and accompaniments. This is
Harden House or Castle; but, though apparently near it, the wayfarer
has yet to walk a long way around the height before he can wind his
way into its immediate presence. When arrived at the platform whereon
the house stands, he finds it degraded into a farm-house; its court
forming perhaps a temporary cattle-yard; every ornament disgraced;
every memorial of former grandeur seen through a slough of plebeian
utility and homeliness, or broken into ruin. A pavement of black and
white diced marble is found in the vestibule, every square of which
is bruised to pieces, and the whole strewed with the details of a
dairy. The dining-room, a large apartment with a richly ornamented
stucco roof, is now used as the farmer’s kitchen. Other parts of the
house, still bearing the arms and initials of Walter Scott, Earl of
Tarras, great-grandfather of the late Mr Scott of Harden, and of his
second wife, Helen Hepburn, are sunk in a scarcely less proportion.
This nobleman was at first married to Mary, Countess of Buccleuch, who
died, however, without issue, leaving the succession open to her sister
Anne, who became the wife of the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth, eldest
natural son of Charles II. Through this family connection, the Earl of
Tarras was induced to join in the conspiracy which usually bears the
name of the Rye-house Plot, for which he was attainted, only saving his
life by giving evidence against his more steadfast companion, Baillie
of Jerviswood, the great-grandfather of another Scottish proprietor,
who happened to be an immediate neighbour of Harden. It may be asked
why Mr Scott did not inherit the title of his ancestor: the answer
is, that it was only thought necessary to invest the husband of the
Countess of Buccleuch with a title for his own life--which proves that
the hereditary character of the peerage has not always been observed
in our constitution. While all of this scene that springs from art is
degraded and wretched, it is striking to see that its natural grandeur
suffers no defalcation. The wide-sweeping hills stretch off grandly on
all hands, and the celebrated _den_, from which the place has taken its
name, still retains the features which have rendered it so remarkable
a natural curiosity. This is a large abyss in the earth, as it may
be called, immediately under the walls of the house, and altogether
unpervaded by running water--the banks clothed with trees of all kinds,
and one side opening to the vale, though the bottom is much beneath
the level of the surrounding ground. Old Wat of Harden--such is the
popular name of an aged marauder celebrated in the _Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border_--used to keep the large herds which he had draughted
out of the northern counties of England in this strange hollow; and
it seems to have been admirably adapted for the purpose. It was this
Border hero of whom the story is told somewhere by his illustrious
descendant, that, coming once homeward with a goodly prey of cattle,
and seeing a large haystack standing in a farm-yard by the way, he
could not help saying, with some bitterness: ‘By my saul, an ye had
four feet, ye should gang too!’
SCHOOL-BOY DAYS.
It is understood that, at the ‘evening fire’ of Sandyknow, Sir Walter
learned much of that Border lore which he afterwards wrought up in his
fictions. To what extent his residence there retarded his progress in
school instruction, is not discovered. After being at Sandyknow, he
was, for the sake of the mineral waters, sent, in his fourth year,
to Bath, where he attended a dame’s school, and received his first
lessons in reading. Returning to Edinburgh, he made some advances in
the rudiments of learning at a private school kept by a Mr Leechman in
Hamilton’s Entry, Bristo Street [now a small, decayed building, with
a tiled roof, occupied by a working blacksmith]. This was his first
school in Edinburgh. It is almost certain that his attendance at school
was rendered irregular by his delicate health. He entered Fraser’s
class at the High School in the _third year_--that is to say, when
that master had carried his class through one half of the ordinary
curriculum of the school; wherefore it is clear that any earlier
instruction he could have received must have been in some inferior
institution, and very probably communicated in a hurried and imperfect
manner. It is at the commencement of the school year in October 1779
that his name first appears in the school register: he must have then
been eight years of age, which, it may be remarked, is an unusually
early period for a boy to enter the third year of his classical course.
What is further remarkable, his elder brother attended the same class.
It is therefore to be suspected that his educational interests were
sacrificed, in some measure, to the circumstances of the school, which
were at that period in such an unhappy arrangement as to teachers,
that parents often precipitated their children into a class for which
they were unfitted, in order to escape a teacher whom they deemed
unqualified for his duties, and secure the instructions of one who bore
a superior character.
Although Mr Luke Fraser was one of the severest flagellators even of
the _old school_, he enjoyed the reputation of being a sound scholar,
so far as scholarship was required for his duties, and also that of
a most conscientious and painstaking teacher. He first caused his
scholars to get by heart Ruddiman’s _Rudiments_, and as soon as they
were thoroughly grounded in the declensions, the Vocabulary of the same
great grammarian was put into their hands, and a small number of words
prescribed to be repeated every morning. They then read in succession
the _Colloquies_ of Corderius, four or five lives of Cornelius Nepos,
and the first four books of Cæsar’s _Commentaries_. Ere this course
was perfected, the greater part of Ruddiman’s _Grammatica Minora_, in
Latin, was got by heart. Select passages from Ovid’s _Metamorphoses_,
the _Bucolics_ and the first _Æneid_ of Virgil, concluded the fourth
year; after which the boys were turned over to the rector, by whom
they were instructed for two years more; making the course in all six
years. It must also be understood, that every one of the three masters
besides Mr Fraser pursued the same system, bringing forward a class
from the first elements to the state in which it was fitted for the
attention of the rector; after which he returned once more to take up
a new set of boys in the first class--and so forth for one lustrum
after another, so long as he was connected with the school. If any
teacher could have brought a boy over such a difficulty as that which
attended the commencement of Sir Walter’s career at the High School,
it would have been Mr Fraser; for few of his profession at that time
were more anxious to explain away every obstruction in the path of his
pupils, or took so much pains to ascertain that they were carrying the
understandings of the boys along with them through all the successive
stages. Apparently, however, neither the care of the master nor the
inborn genius of the pupil availed much in this case, for it is said
that the twenty-fifth place was no uncommon situation in the class for
the future author of the Waverley Novels.
After two years of instruction, commenced under these unfavourable
circumstances, Sir Walter, in October 1781, entered the rector’s
class, then taught by Dr Alexander Adam, the author of many excellent
elementary books, and one of the most meritorious and most eminent
teachers that Scotland has ever produced. The authors read by Dr Adam’s
class at this period, and probably during the whole of his career, were
Virgil, Horace, Cicero, Sallust, Livy, and Terence; but it was not in
reading and translating alone that an education under this eminent man
consisted. Adam, who was an indefatigable student, as the number and
excellence of his works testify, was a complete contrast to Mr Fraser.
The latter hardly ever introduced a single remark but what was intended
to illustrate the _letter_ of the author; whereas Dr Adam commented at
great length upon whatever occurred in the course of reading in the
class, whether it related to antiquities, customs, and manners, or
to history. He was of so communicative a disposition, that whatever
knowledge he had acquired in his private studies, he took the first
opportunity of imparting to his class, paying little regard whether it
was above the comprehension of the greater number of his scholars or
not. He abounded in pleasant anecdote; and while he never neglected
the proper business of his class, it is certain that he inspired a
far higher love of knowledge and of literary history into the minds
of his pupils than any other teacher of his day. At the same time,
he displayed a benevolence of character which won the hearts of his
pupils, and nothing ever gave him so much pleasure as to hear of their
success in after-life. To this venerable person, Sir Walter was always
ready to acknowledge his obligations, and it is not improbable that
much of his literary character was moulded on that of Dr Adam.
As a scholar, nevertheless, the subject of this memoir never became
remarkable for proficiency. There is his own authority for saying,
that, even in the exercise of metrical translation, he fell far
short of some of his companions; although others preserve a somewhat
different recollection, and state that this was a department in which
he always manifested a superiority. It is, however, unquestionable,
that in his exercises he was remarkable, to no inconsiderable extent,
for blundering and incorrectness; his mind apparently not possessing
that aptitude for mastering small details, in which so much of
scholarship, in its earliest stages, consists.
Regarding his school-days, we may introduce an extract from an original
letter on the subject. ‘The following lines were written by Walter
Scott when he was between ten and eleven years of age, and while he was
attending the High School, Edinburgh. His master there had spoken of
him as a remarkably stupid boy, and his mother with grief acknowledged
that they spoke truly. She saw him one morning, in the midst of a
tremendous thunder-storm, standing still in the street, and looking at
the sky. She called to him repeatedly, but he remained looking upwards
without taking the least notice of her. When he returned into the
house, she was very much displeased with him: “Mother,” he said, “I
could tell you the reason why I stood still, and why I looked at the
sky, if you would only give me a pencil.” She gave him one, and, in
less than five minutes, he laid a bit of paper on her lap, with these
words written on it:
“Loud o’er my head what awful thunders roll,
What vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
It is thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy voice directs them through the vaulted sky;
Then let the good thy mighty power revere,
Let hardened sinners thy just judgments fear.”
The old lady repeated them to me herself, and the tears were in her
eyes: for I really believe, simple as they are, that she values these
lines, being the first effusion of her son’s genius, more than any
later beauties which have so charmed all the world besides.’
Before quitting the High School, he, along with his brothers, received
the advantages of some tutorial training under a Mr Mitchell, who
afterwards became a minister connected with the Scotch Church. Previous
to entering the university of Edinburgh, young Walter spent some time
with his aunt at Kelso. Here, in order that he might be kept up in his
classical studies, he attended the grammar-school, at that time under
the rectorship of Mr Lancelot Whale, a worthy man and good scholar,
who possessed traits of character not unlike some of those which have
been depicted in Dominie Sampson. It was while thus residing for a
short time at Kelso, about 1783, that Sir Walter made the acquaintance
of James Ballantyne, then a schoolboy of his own age, with kindred
literary tastes.
Sir Walter’s education being irregular from bad health, he did not
distinguish himself as a scholar, yet often surprised his instructors
by the miscellaneous knowledge which he possessed, and now and then was
acknowledged to display a sense of the beauties of the Latin authors
such as is seldom seen in boys. In the rough amusements which went
on out of school, his spirit enabled him to take a leading share,
notwithstanding his lameness. He would help to man the Cowgate Port
in a snow-ball match, and pass the Kittle Nine Steps on the Castle
Rock with the best of them. In the winter evenings, when out-of-door
exercise was not attractive, he would gather his companions round
him at the fireside, and entertain them with stories, real and
imaginary, of which he seemed to have an endless store. Unluckily, his
classical studies, neglected as they comparatively were, experienced an
interruption from bad health, just as he was beginning to acquire some
sense of their value.
It would, nevertheless, be difficult to say whether Scott was the worse
or the better of the interruptions he experienced in school learning.
He lost a certain kind of knowledge, it is true, but he gained another.
The vacant time at his disposal he gave to general reading. History,
travels, poetry, and prose fiction he devoured without discrimination,
unless it were that he preferred imaginative literature to every
other; and of all imaginative writers, was fondest of such as Spenser,
whose knights and ladies, and dragons and giants, he was never tired
of contemplating. Any passage of a favourite poet which pleased him
particularly was sure to remain on his memory, and thus he was able
to astonish his friends with his poetical recitations. At the same
time, he admits that solidly useful matters had a poor chance of
being remembered. His sober-minded parents and other friends regarded
these acquirements without pride or satisfaction; they marvelled at
the thirst for reading and the powers of memory, but thought it all
to little good purpose, and only excused it in consideration of the
infirm health of the young prodigy. Scott himself lived to lament the
indifference he shewed to that regular mental discipline which is
to be acquired at school. He says in his autobiography: ‘It is with
the deepest regret that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities
of study which I neglected in my youth; through every part of my
literary career, I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance;
and I would at this moment give half the reputation I have had the
good-fortune to acquire, if by doing so I could rest the remaining part
upon a solid foundation of learning and science.’
It is the tradition of the family--and the fact is countenanced by this
propensity to tales of chivalric adventure--that Sir Walter wished at
this period of his life to become a soldier. The illness, however,
which had beset his early years rendered this wish bootless, even
although his parents had been inclined to gratify it. His malady had
had the effect of contracting his right leg, so that he could hardly
walk erect, even with the toes of that foot upon the ground. It has
been related by a member of his family that, on this being represented
to him as an insuperable obstacle to his entering the army, he left
the room in an agony of mortified feeling, and was found some time
afterwards suspended by the wrists from his bedroom window, somewhat
after the manner of the unfortunate Knight of the Rueful Countenance,
when beguiled by the treacherous Maritornes at the inn. On being asked
the cause of this strange proceeding, he said he wished to prove to
them that, however unfitted by his limbs for the profession of a
soldier, he was at least strong enough in the arms. He had actually
remained in that uneasy and trying posture for upwards of an hour.
His parents made many efforts to cure his lameness. Edinburgh at this
time boasted of an ingenious mechanist in leather, the first person
who extended the use of that commodity beyond ordinary purposes; on
which account there is an elaborate memoir of him in Dodsley’s _Annual
Register_ for 1793. His name was Gavin Wilson, and, being something of
a humorist, he exhibited a sign-board intended to burlesque the vanity
of his brother-tradesmen--his profession being thus indicated: ‘Leather
leg-maker, _not_ to his Majesty.’ Honest Gavin, on the application of
his parents, did all he could for Sir Walter, but in vain.
An attempt was made about the same time to give him instructions in
music, which used to be a branch of ordinary education in Scotland.
His preceptor was Mr Alexander Campbell, then organist of an Episcopal
chapel in Edinburgh, but known in later life as the editor of _Albyn’s
Anthology_, and author of various other publications. Mr Campbell’s
efforts were entirely in vain: he had to abandon his pupil in a
short time, with the declaration, that he was totally deficient in
that indispensable requisite to a musical education--an _ear_. It
may appear strange, that he who wrote so many musical verses, should
have wanted this natural gift; but there are other cases to shew
that a perception of metrical quantities does not depend on any such
peculiarity. Dr Johnson is a splendid instance. Throughout life, Sir
Walter, however capable of enjoying music, was incapable of producing
two notes consecutively that were either in tune or in time. He used to
be pressed, however, at an annual agricultural dinner, to contribute
his proper quota to the cantations of the evening; on which occasions
he would break forth with the song of _Tarry Woo_, in a strain of
unmusical vehemence, which never failed, on the same principle as Dick
Tinto’s ill-painted sign, to put the company into good-humour.
UNIVERSITY.
Sir Walter was placed in the University of Edinburgh, October 1783.
The usual course at this famed seminary is, for the first year, to
attend the classes of Latin and Greek, to which, during the second,
are added Mathematics and Logic; the third and last year of the course
of a merely liberal education is spent in attending the lectures on
Moral and Natural Philosophy. It would appear that Sir Walter did not
proceed regularly through this academical course. He was matriculated,
or booked, in 1783, at once for the Humanity or Latin class under
Professor Hill, and the Greek class under Professor Dalyell; and for
the latter, once more in 1784. But the only other class for which he
seems to have matriculated at the college was that of Logic, under
Professor Bruce, in 1785. Although he may perhaps have attended
other classes without matriculation, there is reason to believe that
his irregular health produced a corresponding irregularity in his
academical studies. The result, it is to be feared, was, that he
entered life much in the condition of his illustrious prototype, the
Bard of Avon--that is, ‘with a little Latin and less Greek.’
Between his twelfth and fifteenth year, young Scott had a particularly
favourite companion of his own age, John Irvine, the mutual attraction
being a love of fictions of a chivalrous description, furnished by
an eminent circulating library, which had been founded in Edinburgh
by Allan Ramsay, and situated in the High Street, a short way above
the Tron Church, and then belonged to Mr James Sibbald, a person of
literary tastes, who edited the _Edinburgh Magazine_, and a collection
of Scottish poetry. This old-fashioned library, the first of its kind,
passed in time into the hands of Mr Alexander Mackay; and was finally
sold off in 1831. With a volume from this precious repository, the two
youths sometimes adjourned to the picturesque sides of Arthur’s Seat,
where, seated together so as to read from the same page, they revelled
in the adventures of heroes and heroines of romance.
It will thus be observed that Sir Walter’s acquirements in his early
years did not lie nearly so much in ordinary branches of education, as
in a large stock of miscellaneous reading, taken up at the dictation
of his own taste. His thirst for reading is perhaps not described in
sufficiently emphatic terms, even in the above narrative. It amounted
to an enthusiasm. He was at that time very much in the house of his
uncle, Dr Rutherford, at foot of Hyndford’s Close, near the Netherbow,
and there, even at breakfast, he would constantly have a book open by
his side, to refer to while sipping his coffee, like his own Oldbuck
in the _Antiquary_. His uncle frequently commanded him to lay aside
his book while eating, and Sir Walter would only ask permission first
to read out the paragraph in which he was engaged. But no sooner was
one paragraph ended than another was begun, so that the doctor never
could find that his nephew finished a paragraph in his life. It may be
mentioned that Shakspeare was at this period frequently in his hands,
and that, of all the plays, the _Merchant of Venice_ was his principal
favourite.
Another choice companion at this period was young Adam
Ferguson--afterwards known as Sir Adam Ferguson--son of Dr Adam
Ferguson, author of the _History of the Roman Republic_, and who
remained an intimate friend during life. The house of Dr Ferguson was
a villa situated on the east side of a southern suburb of Edinburgh,
called _The Sciennes_, from its proximity to the remains of an ancient
monastery, dedicated to St Catherine of Sienna. Dr Ferguson’s house
is remarkable as that in which young Walter Scott had an opportunity
of being in the company of Robert Burns. Scott had read Burns’s
poetry, and he ardently desired to see the poet. An opportunity was
at length furnished, when Burns, on visiting Edinburgh in 1787, came
by invitation to the residence of Dr Ferguson. Of the meeting, Scott
has communicated an unaffected description to Mr Lockhart. Sir Adam
Ferguson favoured me with some particulars of the visit of Burns to his
father’s house on this occasion.
It was the custom of Dr Ferguson to have a conversazione at his house
in the Sciennes once a week, for his principal literary friends. Dr
Dugald Stewart, on this occasion, offered to bring Burns, a proposal
to which Dr Ferguson readily assented. The poet found himself amongst
the most brilliant literary society which Edinburgh then afforded.
Sir Adam thought that Black, Hutton, and John Home were among those
present. He had himself brought his young friend Walter Scott, as yet
unnoted by his seniors. Burns seemed at first little inclined to mingle
easily in the company; he went about the room, looking at the pictures
on the walls. The print described by Scott, from a painting by Bunbury,
attracted his attention. It represented a sad picture of the effects
of war: a soldier lying stretched dead on the snow, his dog sitting in
misery on one side, while on the other sat his widow, nursing a child
in her arms. The print was plain, yet touching; beneath were written
the following lines, which Burns read aloud:
‘Cold on Canadian hills or Minden’s plain,
Perhaps that parent mourned her soldier slain;
Bent o’er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew,
The big drops mingling with the milk he drew,
Gave the sad presage of his future years,
The child of misery baptised in tears.’