"Before I conclude this famous epistle I will give you a little
hint,--that is, not to put so many 'musts' in your letters, it is
beginning rather too soon; and another thing is that I take the
liberty not to mind them much, but I expect you to mind me. You
must take care of yourself; you must think of me and believe me
yours sincerely. . . . I am very glad that you don't give up the
cavalry, as I love anything that is stylish. Don't forget to find a
stand for the old carriage, as I shall like to keep it in case we
have to go a journey; it will do very well until we can keep our
carriage. What an idea of yours was that to mention where you wish
to have your bones laid! If you were married I should think you had
tired of me. A pretty compliment before marriage! If you always
have those cheerful thoughts, how very pleasant and gay you must
be. Adieu, my dearest friend. Take care of yourself if you love me,
as I have no wish that you should visit that beautiful and romantic
scene, the burial place! . . . Arrange it so that we shall see none
of your family the night of our arrival. I shall be so tired, and
such a fright, I should not be seen to advantage."
All of which reads as though the young ladies of 1797 were not very
different from those of our own day. After the marriage they went to
reside in Edinburgh, and enjoyed some of the gayeties of that time. They
were most particularly attracted by the theatres. Mrs. Scott had a great
fondness for the shows and pomps of the world, as she had not concealed
from him before marriage, and she never recovered from such fondness;
but she accommodated herself well to her surroundings, and the young
couple were very happy.
In 1814 "Waverley" was published, and received with wonder and delight
by the whole reading world. "Guy Mannering" followed closely upon it,
and was said to have been written in six weeks' time. It intensified the
interest already aroused, and made men wonder anew who this great new
light could be. The tragical "Bride of Lammermoor" composed at white
heat in a fortnight, added greatly to the sensation, and the whole
country was in a fever of excitement over the creations of this
enchanted pen. The secret of the authorship of the novels was kept for a
long time even from Scott's intimate friends. During the great success
of these works, Scott began the building of his house at Abbotsford, and
put into the vast and imposing structure so much money that he became
very much embarrassed in his finances, and the serious troubles of his
life began. The extravagance of his outlay upon his estate, together
with liabilities he had assumed for others, led finally to financial
ruin, to overwork, and probably to premature death. Let us make a few
extracts from his diary written when these misfortunes were fresh upon
him.
"What a life mine has been! Half-educated, almost wholly neglected
or left to myself; stuffing my head with most nonsensical trash,
and undervalued by the most of my companions for a time; getting
forward, and held to be a bold and clever fellow, contrary to the
opinion of all who had held me a mere dreamer; broken-hearted for
two years, my heart handsomely pieced again,--but the crack will
remain till my dying day. Rich and poor four or five times; once on
the verge of ruin, yet opened a new source of wealth almost
overflowing. Now to be broken in my pitch of pride and nearly
winged (unless good news should come) because London chooses to be
in an uproar, and in the tumult of bulls and bears a poor,
inoffensive lion like myself is pushed to the wall. Nobody in the
end can lose a penny by me, that is one comfort. I have the
satisfaction to recollect that my prosperity has been of advantage
to many, and to hope that some at least will forgive my transient
wealth on account of the innocence of my intentions, and my real
wish to do good to the poor. . . . How could I tread my hall again
with such a diminished crest? How live a poor, indebted man, where
I was once the wealthy, the honored? I was to have gone there
Saturday in joy and prosperity to receive my friends. My dogs will
wait for me in vain. It is foolish, but the thoughts of parting
from these dumb creatures have moved me more than any of the
painful reflections I have put down. Poor things, I must get them
kind masters. I must end these gloomy forebodings, or I shall lose
the tone of mind with which men should meet distress. I feel my
dogs' feet on my knees; I hear them whining and seeking me
everywhere. . . .
"I feel neither dishonored nor broken down by the bad--now really
bad--news I have received. I have walked my last on the domains I
have planted; sat the last time in the halls I have built. But
death would have taken them from me if misfortune had spared them.
My poor people whom I loved so well! There is just another die to
turn up against me in this run of ill-luck,--that is, if I should
break my magic wand in the fall from the elephant, and lose my
popularity with my fortune.
"Read again and for the third time Miss Austen's story of 'Pride
and Prejudice.' That young lady has a talent for describing the
involvements, the feelings, and characters of ordinary life which
is to me the most wonderful I ever met with. The Big Bow-wow strain
I can do myself like any now going, but the exquisite touch which
renders ordinary commonplace things interesting is denied to me."
Troubles had indeed come thick and fast upon poor Scott, and the
heaviest blow was yet to fall. In 1826 Lady Scott was taken from him,
and about the same time a number of his old friends. He felt his
desolation extremely, but kept up bravely for the most part, and worked
prodigiously for many months. There is a grandeur about the way he bore
his misfortunes which casts into shade all that was fine in his
character during his prosperous years. Most men, even of brave and noble
natures, would have been overcome by misfortunes so overwhelming as were
his, and would never have thought of extricating themselves; but he
seemed to rise to the occasion in a quite unexampled manner, and to
fight with the utmost bravery and fortitude to the last. The wound to
his affections was, however, very hard to recover from, and he broke
more rapidly after Lady Scott's death than ever before. He writes:--
"A kind of cloud of stupidity hangs about me, as if all were unreal
that men seem to be doing and talking about."