Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
        Chapter VII 1809-10
        
        
          
        
        
          
        
       
      
      
      
      
     
    
    
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     CHAPTER VII. 
     CASE OF A POETICAL TAILOR CONDEMNED TO DEATH AT EDINBURGH—HIS LETTERS TO
                            SCOTT—DEATH OF CAMP—SCOTT IN LONDON—MR
                            MORRITT’S DESCRIPTION OF HIM AS “A LION” IN TOWN—DINNER AT
                            MR
                            SOTHEBY’S—COLERIDGE’S FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER—THE QUARTERLY
                            REVIEW STARTED—FIRST VISIT TO ROKEBY—THE LADY OF THE
                            LAKE BEGUN—EXCURSION TO THE TROSSACHS AND LOCH LOMOND—LETTER ON
                            BYRON’S ENGLISH BARDS AND SCOTCH
                            REVIEWERS—DEATH OF DANIEL SCOTT—CORRESPONDENCE ABOUT
                            MR CANNING’S DUEL WITH LORD
                            CASTLEREAGH—MISS BAILLIE’S FAMILY LEGEND ACTED AT EDINBURGH—THEATRICAL
                            ANECDOTES—KEMBLE—SIDDONS—TERRY—LETTER
                        ON THE DEATH OF MISS SEWARD. 
1809—1810.
                    In the end of 1808, a young man, by name Andrew Stewart, who had figured for some years before as a
                        poetical contributor to the Scots Magazine, and
                        inserted there, among other things, a set of stanzas in honour of The Last Minstrel,* was tried, and capitally convicted, on a
                        charge of burglary. He addressed, some weeks after his sentence had been pronounced, the
                        following letters:— 
    
      
        |  * One verse of this production will suffice.  
            
              |  “Sweetest Minstrel that e’er sung   Of valorous deeds by Scotia done,   ‘Whose wild notes warbled in the win’,   Delightful strain!   O’er hills and dales, and vales amang,   We’ve heard again,’ &c.  |  ![]()  | 
    
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        | 240 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
    
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      To Walter Scott, Esq. Castle Street.
    
    
      
       “Edinburgh Tolbooth, 20th January, 1809. 
       “Sir, 
      
       “Although I am a stranger to you, yet I am not to
                                    your works, which I have read and admired, and which will continue to be read
                                    and admired as long as there remains a taste for true excellence. Previous to
                                    committing the crime for which I am now convicted, I composed several poems in
                                    the Scottish dialect, which I herewith send for your perusal, and humbly hope
                                    you will listen to my tale of misery. I have been a truly unfortunate follower
                                    of the Muses. I was born in Edinburgh, of poor, but honest parents. My father
                                    is by trade a bookbinder, and my mother dying in 1798, he was left a widower,
                                    with five small children, who have all been brought up by his own industry. As
                                    soon as I was fit for a trade, he bound me apprentice to a tailor in Edinburgh,
                                    but owing to his using me badly, I went to law. The consequence was, I got up
                                    my indentures after being only two years in his service. To my father’s
                                    trade I have to ascribe my first attachment to the Muses. I perused with
                                    delight the books that came in the way; and the effusions of the poets of my
                                    country I read with rapture. I now formed the resolution of not binding myself
                                    to a trade again, as by that means I might get my propensity for reading
                                    followed. I acted as clerk to different people, and my character was
                                    irreproachable. I determined to settle in life, and for that purpose I married
                                    a young woman I formed a strong attachment to. Being out of employment these
                                    last nine months, I suffered all the hardships of want, and saw 
|  ‘Poverty with empty hand,   And eager look, half-naked stand.’—Fergusson .
                                             | 
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 Reduced to this miserable situation, with my wife 
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 almost starving, and having no friends to render
                                    me the smallest assistance, I resided in a furnished room till I was unable to
                                    pay the rent, and then I was literally turned out of doors, like poor 
Dermody, in poverty and rags. Having no kind
                                    hand stretched out to help me, I associated with company of very loose manners,
                                    till then strangers to me, and by them I was led to commit the crime I am
                                    condemned to suffer for. But my mind is so agitated, I can scarce narrate my
                                    tale of misery. My age is only twenty-three, and to all appearance will be cut
                                    off in the prime. I was tried along with my brother, Robert
                                        Stewart, and John M’Intyre, for
                                    breaking into the workshop of Peter More, calico-glazer,
                                    Edinburgh, and received the dreadful sentence to be executed on the 22d of
                                    February next. We have no friends to apply to for Royal Mercy. If I had any
                                    kind friend to mention my case to my Lord Justice-Clerk, perhaps I might get my
                                    sentence mitigated. You will see my poems are of the humorous cast. Alas! it is
                                    now the contrary. I remain your unfortunate humble servant, 
      
     
    
      To the Same.
    
    
      
       “Tolbooth, Sunday. 
      
       “Sir I received your kind letter last night,
                                    enclosing one pound sterling, for which I have only to request you will accept
                                    the return of a grateful heart. My prayers, while on earth, will be always for
                                    your welfare. Your letter came like a ministering angel to me. The idea of my
                                    approaching end darts across my brain; and, as our immortal bard, Shakspeare, says, ‘harrows up my
                                        soul.’ Some time since, when chance threw in my way Sir William Forbes’s
                                    Life of Beattie, the
                                    account of the closing scene of Principal
                                        Campbell, as therein ![]()
| 242 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
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 mentioned, made a
                                    deep impression on my mind. ‘At a time,’ says he,
                                        ‘when Campbell was just expiring, and had
                                        told his wife and niece so, a cordial happened unexpectedly to give some
                                        relief. As soon as he was able to speak he said, he wondered to see their
                                        faces so melancholy and covered with tears at the apprehension of his
                                        departure. ‘
At that instant,’ said he,
                                            ‘
I felt my mind in such a state in the thoughts
                                            of my immediate dissolution, that I can express my feelings in no other
                                            way than by saying I was in a rapture.’ There is
                                    something awfully satisfactory in the above. 
      
       “I have to mention, as a dying man, that it was not
                                    the greed of money that made me commit the crime, but the extreme pressure of
                                    poverty and want. 
      
      
        
          |  “How silent seems all—not a whisper is heard,   Save the guardians of night when they bawl;   How dreary and wild appears all around;   No pitying voice near my call.  | 
      
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          |  “O life, what are all thy gay pleasures and cares,   When deprived of sweet liberty’s smile?   Not hope in all thy gay charms arrayed,   Can one heavy hour now beguile.  | 
      
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          |  “How sad is the poor convict’s sorrowful lot,   Condemned in these walls to remain,   When torn from those that are nearest his heart,   Perhaps ne’er to view them again.  | 
      
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          |  “The beauties of morning now burst on my view,   Remembrance of scenes that are past,   When contentment sat smiling, and happy my lot,   Scenes, alas! formed not for to last.  | 
      
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          |  “Now fled are the hours I delighted to roam   Scotia’s hills, dales, and valleys among,   And with rapture would list to the songs of her bards,   And love’s tale as it flowed from the tongue.
                                         | 
      
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          |  “Nought but death now awaits me, how dread, but true,   How ghastly its form does appear;   Soon silent the muse that delighted to view   And sing of the sweets of the year.  | 
      
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       “You are the first gentleman I ever sent my poems to,
                                    and I never corrected any of them, my mind has been in such a state. I remain,
                                    sir, your grateful unfortunate servant, 
      
     
    
     It appears that Scott, and his
                        good-natured old friend, Mr Manners the bookseller,
                        who happened at this time to be one of the bailies of Edinburgh, exerted their joint
                        influence in this tailor-poet’s behalf, and with such success, that his sentence was
                        commuted for one of transportation for life. A thin octavo pamphlet, entitled, “Poems, chiefly in the
                            Scottish dialect, by Andrew Stewart; printed for the benefit of the Author’s
                            Father, and sold by Manners and Miller, and A. Constable and Co., 1809,”
                        appeared soon after the convict’s departure for Botany Bay. But as to his fortunes in
                        that new world I possess no information. There seemed to me something so striking in the
                        working of his feelings as expressed in his letters to Scott, that I
                        thought the reader would forgive this little episode. 
    
     In the course of February, Mr John
                            Ballantyne had proceeded to London, for the purpose of introducing himself
                        to the chief publishers there in his new capacity, and especially of taking Mr Murray’s instructions respecting the Scotch
                        management of the Quarterly Review. As soon as
                        the spring vacation began, Scott followed him by sea. He
                        might naturally have wished to be at hand while his new partner was forming arrangements on
                        which so much must depend; but some ![]()
| 244 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() circumstances in the procedure of
                        the Scotch Law Commission had made the Lord Advocate
                        request his presence at this time in town. There he and Mrs
                            Scott took up their quarters, as usual, under the roof of their kind old
                        friends the Dumergues; while their eldest girl enjoyed the advantage of being domesticated
                        with the Miss Baillies at Hampstead. They staid more
                        than two months, and this being his first visit to town since his fame had been crowned by
                            Marmion, he was of course more than
                        ever the object of general curiosity and attention. Mr
                            Morritt saw much of him, both at his own house in Portland Place and
                        elsewhere, and I transcribe a few sentences from his memoranda of
                        the period.
 circumstances in the procedure of
                        the Scotch Law Commission had made the Lord Advocate
                        request his presence at this time in town. There he and Mrs
                            Scott took up their quarters, as usual, under the roof of their kind old
                        friends the Dumergues; while their eldest girl enjoyed the advantage of being domesticated
                        with the Miss Baillies at Hampstead. They staid more
                        than two months, and this being his first visit to town since his fame had been crowned by
                            Marmion, he was of course more than
                        ever the object of general curiosity and attention. Mr
                            Morritt saw much of him, both at his own house in Portland Place and
                        elsewhere, and I transcribe a few sentences from his memoranda of
                        the period. 
    
     “Scott,” his friend
                        says, “more correctly than any other man I ever knew, appreciated the value of
                            that apparently enthusiastic engouement which
                            the world of London shows to the fashionable wonder of the year. During this sojourn of
                            1809, the homage paid him would have turned the head of any less gifted man of
                            eminence. It neither altered his opinions, nor produced the affectation of despising
                            it; on the contrary, he received it, cultivated it, and repaid it in its own coin.
                                ‘All this is very flattering,’ he would say, ‘and very
                                civil; and if people are amused with hearing me tell a parcel of old stories, or
                                recite a pack of ballads to lovely young girls and gaping matrons, they are easily
                                pleased, and a man would be very ill-natured who would not give pleasure so cheaply
                                conferred.’ If he dined with us and found any new faces, ‘Well,
                                do you want me to play lion to-day?’ was his usual question—‘I
                                will roar if you like it to your heart’s content.’ He would,
                            indeed, in such cases put forth all his inimitable powers of entertainment and day
                            after day surprised me by their unexpected extent and variety. Then, as the party
                            dwindled, and we were left alone, he laughed at himself, quoted, ‘yet know
                                that I ![]()
|  | MR MORRITT—LONDON MARCH, 1809. | 245 | 
![]() one Snug the joiner am—no lion fierce,’ &c.
                            and was at once himself again.
 one Snug the joiner am—no lion fierce,’ &c.
                            and was at once himself again.
                    
    
     “He often lamented the injurious effects for literature and
                            genius resulting from the influence of London celebrity on weaker minds, especially in
                            the excitement of ambition for this subordinate and ephemeral reputation du salon. ‘It may be a
                                pleasant gale to sail with,’ he said, ‘but it never yet led to a
                                port that I should like to anchor in;’ nor did he willingly endure,
                            either in London or in Edinburgh, the little exclusive circles of literary society,
                            much less their occasional fastidiousness and petty partialities.
                    
    
     “One story which I heard of him from Dr Howley, now Archbishop of Canterbury (for I was not present), was
                            very characteristic. The doctor was one of a grand congregation of lions, where
                                Scott and Coleridge, cum multis altis,
                            attended at Sotheby’s. Poets and poetry
                            were the topics of the table, and there was plentiful recitation of effusions as yet
                            unpublished, which of course obtained abundant applause. Coleridge
                            repeated more than one, which, as Dr H. thought, were eulogized by
                            some of the company with something like affectation, and a desire to humble
                                Scott by raising a poet of inferior reputation on his
                            shoulders. Scott, however, joined in the compliments as cordially
                            as any body, until, in his turn, he was invited to display some of his occasional
                            poetry, much of which he must, no doubt, have written. Scott said
                            he had published so much, he had nothing of his own left that he could think worth
                            their hearing, but he would repeat a little copy of verses which he had shortly before
                            seen in a provincial newspaper, and which seemed to him almost as good as anything they
                            had been listening to with so much pleasure. He repeated the stanzas now so well known
                            of ‘Fire, Famine, and
                            Slaughter.’ The applauses that ensued were faint—then came slight
                            criticisms, from ![]()
| 246 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() which Scott defended the
                            unknown author. At last, a more bitter antagonist opened, and fastening upon one line,
                            cried ‘this at least is absolute nonsense.’
                                Scott denied the charge—the Zoilus persisted—until Coleridge, out of all
                            patience, exclaimed, ‘For God’s sake let Mr Scott
                                alone—I wrote the poem.’ This exposition of the real worth of dinner
                            criticism can hardly be excelled.*
 which Scott defended the
                            unknown author. At last, a more bitter antagonist opened, and fastening upon one line,
                            cried ‘this at least is absolute nonsense.’
                                Scott denied the charge—the Zoilus persisted—until Coleridge, out of all
                            patience, exclaimed, ‘For God’s sake let Mr Scott
                                alone—I wrote the poem.’ This exposition of the real worth of dinner
                            criticism can hardly be excelled.* 
    
     “He often complained of the real dulness of parties where each
                            guest arrived under the implied and tacit obligation of exhibiting some extraordinary
                            powers of talk or wit. ‘If,’ he said, ‘I encounter men of
                                the world, men of business, odd or striking characters of professional excellence
                                in any department, I am in my element, for they cannot lionize me without my
                                returning the compliment and learning something from them.’ He was much
                            with George Ellis, Canning, and Croker, and
                            delighted in them,—as indeed who did not?—but he loved to study eminence of every class
                            and sort, and his rising fame gave him easy access to gratify all his
                        curiosity.” 
    
    
     The meetings with Canning,
                            Croker, and Ellis, to which Mr Morritt alludes,
                        were, as may be supposed, chiefly occupied with the affairs of the Quarterly
                        
|  * It may amuse the reader to turn to Mr Coleridge’s own stately account of this lion-show in
                                Grosvenor Street, in the preface to his celebrated Eclogue. There was one person present, it seems,
                                who had been in the secret of its authorship—Sir
                                    Humphrey Davy; and no one could have enjoyed the scene more than he
                                must have done. “At the house,” Coleridge
                                says, “of a gentleman who, by the principles and corresponding virtues of a
                                sincere Christian, consecrates a cultivated genius and the favourable accidents of
                                birth, opulence, and splendid connexions, it was my good fortune to meet, in a
                                dinner party, with more men of celebrity in science or polite literature than are
                                commonly found collected around the same table. In the course of conversation, one
                                of the party reminded an illustrious poet,” &c. &c.—Coleridge’s Poetical
                                    Works. Edition, 1835. Vol. I., P. 274.  | 
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                        ![]()
![]() Review. The first number of that Journal appeared
                        while Scott was in London: it contained three articles
                        from his pen—namely, one on the Reliques of Burns; another on the Chronicle of the Cid; and a third on Sir John Carr’s Tour through Scotland. His conferences
                        with the editor and publisher were frequent; and the latter certainly contemplated, at this
                        time, a most close and intimate connexion with him, not only as a reviewer, but an author;
                        and, consequently, with both the concerns of the Messrs Ballantyne. Scott continued for some time to be a very
                        active contributor to the Quarterly Review; nor, indeed, was his
                        connexion with it ever entirely suspended. But John
                            Ballantyne transacted business in a fashion which soon cooled, and in no
                        very long time dissolved, the general “alliance offensive and defensive”
                        with Murray, which Scott had announced before
                        leaving Edinburgh to both Southey and
                            Ellis.
 Review. The first number of that Journal appeared
                        while Scott was in London: it contained three articles
                        from his pen—namely, one on the Reliques of Burns; another on the Chronicle of the Cid; and a third on Sir John Carr’s Tour through Scotland. His conferences
                        with the editor and publisher were frequent; and the latter certainly contemplated, at this
                        time, a most close and intimate connexion with him, not only as a reviewer, but an author;
                        and, consequently, with both the concerns of the Messrs Ballantyne. Scott continued for some time to be a very
                        active contributor to the Quarterly Review; nor, indeed, was his
                        connexion with it ever entirely suspended. But John
                            Ballantyne transacted business in a fashion which soon cooled, and in no
                        very long time dissolved, the general “alliance offensive and defensive”
                        with Murray, which Scott had announced before
                        leaving Edinburgh to both Southey and
                            Ellis. 
    
     On his return northwards he spent a fortnight in Yorkshire with Mr Morritt; but his correspondence, from which I resume my
                        extracts, will show, among other things, the lively impression made on him by his first
                        view of Rokeby. 
    
     The next of these letters reminds me, however, that I should have
                        mentioned sooner the death of Camp, the first of not a few dogs
                        whose names will be “freshly remembered” as long as their master’s works
                        are popular. This favourite began to droop early in 1808, and became incapable of
                        accompanying Scott in his rides; but he preserved his
                        affection and sagacity to the last. At Ashestiel, as the servant was laying the cloth for
                        dinner, he would address the dog lying on his mat by the fire, and say, “Camp, my good fellow, the sheriff’s coming home by the
                            ford—or by the hill;” and the sick animal would immediately bestir himself to
                        welcome his master, going out at the back door or the front door, according to the ![]()
| 248 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() direction given, and advancing as far as he was able, either towards
                        the ford of the Tweed, or the bridge over the Glenkinnon burn beyond Laird Nippy’s gate. He died about January 1809, and
                        was buried in a fine moonlight night, in the little garden behind the house in Castle
                        Street, immediately opposite to the window at which Scott usually sat
                        writing. My wife tells me she remembers the whole
                        family standing in tears about the grave, as her father himself smoothed down the turf
                        above Camp with the saddest expression of face she had ever seen
                        in him. He had been engaged to dine abroad that day, but apologized on account of
                            “the death of a dear old friend;” and Mr
                            Macdonald Buchanan was not at all surprised that he should have done so,
                        when it came out next morning that Camp was no more.
 direction given, and advancing as far as he was able, either towards
                        the ford of the Tweed, or the bridge over the Glenkinnon burn beyond Laird Nippy’s gate. He died about January 1809, and
                        was buried in a fine moonlight night, in the little garden behind the house in Castle
                        Street, immediately opposite to the window at which Scott usually sat
                        writing. My wife tells me she remembers the whole
                        family standing in tears about the grave, as her father himself smoothed down the turf
                        above Camp with the saddest expression of face she had ever seen
                        in him. He had been engaged to dine abroad that day, but apologized on account of
                            “the death of a dear old friend;” and Mr
                            Macdonald Buchanan was not at all surprised that he should have done so,
                        when it came out next morning that Camp was no more. 
    
      To George Ellis, Esq.
    
    
      
       “Edinburgh, July 8, 1809. 
      
      
       “We reached home about a fortnight ago, having
                                    lingered a little while at Rokeby Park, the seat of our friend Morritt, and one of the most enviable places I
                                    have ever seen, as it unites the richness and luxuriance of English vegetation
                                    with the romantic variety of glen, torrent, and copse which dignifies our
                                    northern scenery. The Greta and Tees, two most beautiful and rapid rivers, join
                                    their currents in the demesne. The banks of the Tees resemble, from the height
                                    of the rocks, the glen of Roslin, so much and justly admired. The Greta is the
                                    scene of a comic romance,* of which I think I remember giving you the outline.
                                    It concerns the history of a ‘Felon Sowe,’— 
|  ‘Which won’d in Rokeby wood,   Ran endlong Greta side,’  | 
![]() 
                                    |  * Scott printed
                                            this Ballad in the Notes to his poem of Rokeby.  | 
![]() 
                                    ![]()
![]()
 bestowed by Ralph of Rokeby on the
                                    freres of Richmond—and the misadventures of the holy fathers in their awkward
                                    attempts to catch this intractable animal. We had the pleasure to find all our
                                    little folks well, and are now on the point of shifting quarters to Ashestiel.
                                    I have supplied the vacancy occasioned by the death of poor old Camp with a terrier puppy of the old shaggy Celtic
                                    breed. He is of high pedigree, and was procured with great difficulty by the
                                    kindness of 
Miss Dunlop of Dunlop; so I
                                    have christened him Wallace, as the donor is a
                                    descendant of the Guardian of Scotland. Having given you all this curious and
                                    valuable information about my own affairs, let me call your attention to the
                                    enclosed, which was in fact the principal cause of my immediately troubling
                                    you.” * * * 
    
 
    
     The enclosure, and the rest of the letter, refer to the private affairs
                        of Mr Southey, in whose favour Scott had for some time back been strenuously using his
                        interest with his friends in the Government. How well he had, while in London, read the
                        feelings of some of those ministers towards each other, appears from various letters
                        written upon his return to Scotland. It may be sufficient to quote part of one addressed to
                        the distinguished author whose fortunes he was exerting himself to promote. To him
                            Scott says (14th June),—“Mr
                                Canning’s opportunities to serve you will soon be numerous, or
                            they will soon be gone altogether; for he is of a different mould from some of his
                            colleagues, and a decided foe to those half measures which I know you detest as much as
                            I do. It is not his fault that the cause of Spain is not at this moment triumphant.
                            This I know, and the time will come when the world will know it too.” 
    
     Before fixing himself at Ashestiel for the autumn, he ![]()
| 250 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() had undertaken to have a third poem ready for publication, by
                            John Ballantyne, by the end of the year, and
                        probably made some progress in the composition of the Lady of the Lake. On the rising of the Court in July, he went, accompanied by
                            Mrs Scott and his eldest
                            daughter, to revisit the localities, so dear to him in the days of his
                        juvenile rambling, which he had chosen for the scene of his fable. He gave a week to his
                        old friends at Cambusmore, and ascertained, in his own person, that a good horseman, well
                        mounted, might gallop from the shore of Loch Vennachar to the rock of Stirling within the
                        space allotted for that purpose to FitzJames. From
                        Cambusmore the party proceeded to Ross Priory, and, under the guidance of Mr Macdonald Buchanan, explored the islands of Loch
                        Lomond, Arrochar, Loch Sloy, and all the scenery of a hundred desperate conflicts between
                        the Macfarlanes, the Colquhouns, and the Clan
                        Alpine. At Buchanan House, which is very near Ross Priory, Scott’s
                            friends, Lady Douglas and Lady Louisa Stuart, were then visiting the Duke of Montrose; he joined them there, and read to them the
                        Stag Chase, which he had just completed under the full influence of the genius loci.
 had undertaken to have a third poem ready for publication, by
                            John Ballantyne, by the end of the year, and
                        probably made some progress in the composition of the Lady of the Lake. On the rising of the Court in July, he went, accompanied by
                            Mrs Scott and his eldest
                            daughter, to revisit the localities, so dear to him in the days of his
                        juvenile rambling, which he had chosen for the scene of his fable. He gave a week to his
                        old friends at Cambusmore, and ascertained, in his own person, that a good horseman, well
                        mounted, might gallop from the shore of Loch Vennachar to the rock of Stirling within the
                        space allotted for that purpose to FitzJames. From
                        Cambusmore the party proceeded to Ross Priory, and, under the guidance of Mr Macdonald Buchanan, explored the islands of Loch
                        Lomond, Arrochar, Loch Sloy, and all the scenery of a hundred desperate conflicts between
                        the Macfarlanes, the Colquhouns, and the Clan
                        Alpine. At Buchanan House, which is very near Ross Priory, Scott’s
                            friends, Lady Douglas and Lady Louisa Stuart, were then visiting the Duke of Montrose; he joined them there, and read to them the
                        Stag Chase, which he had just completed under the full influence of the genius loci. 
    
     It was on this occasion, at Buchanan House, that he first saw Lord Byron’s “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers.” On this subject
                        he says, in his Introduction to Marmion of
                            1830—“When Byron wrote his famous satire, I had my share
                            of flagellation among my betters. My crime was having written a poem for a thousand
                            pounds, which was no otherwise true than that I sold the copyright for that sum. Now,
                            not to mention that an author can hardly be censured for accepting such a sum as the
                            booksellers are willing to give him, especially as the gentlemen of the trade made no
                            complaints of their bargain, I thought the interference with ![]()
![]() my private affairs was rather beyond the limits of
                            literary satire. I was, moreover, so far from having had any thing to do with the
                            offensive criticism in the Edinburgh, that
                            I had remonstrated with the editor, because I
                            thought the ‘Hours of
                            Idleness’ treated with undue severity. They were written, like all
                            juvenile poetry, rather from the recollection of what had pleased the author in others,
                            than what had been suggested by his own imagination; but nevertheless I thought they
                            contained passages of noble promise.”
 my private affairs was rather beyond the limits of
                            literary satire. I was, moreover, so far from having had any thing to do with the
                            offensive criticism in the Edinburgh, that
                            I had remonstrated with the editor, because I
                            thought the ‘Hours of
                            Idleness’ treated with undue severity. They were written, like all
                            juvenile poetry, rather from the recollection of what had pleased the author in others,
                            than what had been suggested by his own imagination; but nevertheless I thought they
                            contained passages of noble promise.” 
    
     I need hardly transcribe the well-known lines— 
|  “Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan,   The golden-crested haughty Marmion,”
                                 | 
![]() down to
 down to |  “For this we spurn Apollo’s
                                    venal son,   And bid a long ‘good night to Marmion,’”  | 
![]() with his lordship’s note on the last line—“Good night to Marmion, the pathetic and also prophetic exclamation of
                                Henry Blount, Esquire, on the death of honest
                            Marmion.” But it may entertain my readers to compare the style in which
                            Scott alludes to Byron’s assault in the preface of 1830 with that of one of his
                        contemporary letters on the subject. Addressing (August 7, 1809) the gentleman in whose behalf he had been interceding with
                            Mr Canning, he says “By the way, is the
                        ancient ****, whose decease is to open our quest,
                        thinking of a better world? I only ask because about three years ago I accepted the office
                        I hold in the Court of Session, the revenue to accrue to me only on the death of the
                            old incumbent. But my friend has since taken out
                        a new lease of life, and unless I get some Border lad to cut his throat, may, for aught I
                        know, live as long as
 with his lordship’s note on the last line—“Good night to Marmion, the pathetic and also prophetic exclamation of
                                Henry Blount, Esquire, on the death of honest
                            Marmion.” But it may entertain my readers to compare the style in which
                            Scott alludes to Byron’s assault in the preface of 1830 with that of one of his
                        contemporary letters on the subject. Addressing (August 7, 1809) the gentleman in whose behalf he had been interceding with
                            Mr Canning, he says “By the way, is the
                        ancient ****, whose decease is to open our quest,
                        thinking of a better world? I only ask because about three years ago I accepted the office
                        I hold in the Court of Session, the revenue to accrue to me only on the death of the
                            old incumbent. But my friend has since taken out
                        a new lease of life, and unless I get some Border lad to cut his throat, may, for aught I
                        know, live as long as ![]()
| 252 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() I shall;—such odious deceivers are these
                        invalids. Mine reminds me of Sindbad’s Old Man of the Sea, and will certainly
                        throttle me if I can’t somehow dismount him. If I were once in possession of my
                        reversionary income, I would, like you, bid farewell to the drudgery of literature, and do
                        nothing but what I pleased, which might be another phrase for doing very little. I was
                        always an admirer of the modest wish of a retainer in one of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays—
 I shall;—such odious deceivers are these
                        invalids. Mine reminds me of Sindbad’s Old Man of the Sea, and will certainly
                        throttle me if I can’t somehow dismount him. If I were once in possession of my
                        reversionary income, I would, like you, bid farewell to the drudgery of literature, and do
                        nothing but what I pleased, which might be another phrase for doing very little. I was
                        always an admirer of the modest wish of a retainer in one of Beaumont and Fletcher’s plays— |  I would not be a serving man   To carry the cloak-bag still,   Nor would I be a falconer,   The greedy hawks to fill;   But I would live in a good house,   And have a good master too,   And I would eat and drink of the best,   And no work would I do.’  | 
![]() In the mean time, it is funny enough to see a whelp of a young Lord Byron abusing me, of whose circumstances he knows nothing, for
                        endeavouring to scratch out a living with my pen. God help the bear if, having little else
                        to eat, he must not even suck his own paws. I can assure the noble imp of fame it is not my
                        fault that I was not born to a park and L.5000 a-year, as it is not his lordship’s
                        merit, although it may be his great good fortune, that he was not born to live by his
                        literary talents or success. Adieu, my dear friend. I shall be impatient to hear how your
                        matters fadge.”
 In the mean time, it is funny enough to see a whelp of a young Lord Byron abusing me, of whose circumstances he knows nothing, for
                        endeavouring to scratch out a living with my pen. God help the bear if, having little else
                        to eat, he must not even suck his own paws. I can assure the noble imp of fame it is not my
                        fault that I was not born to a park and L.5000 a-year, as it is not his lordship’s
                        merit, although it may be his great good fortune, that he was not born to live by his
                        literary talents or success. Adieu, my dear friend. I shall be impatient to hear how your
                        matters fadge.” 
    
      
      
       This gentleman’s affairs are again alluded to in a letter to
                                        Ellis, dated Ashestiel, September
                                    14:—“I do not write to whet a purpose that is not blunted, but to express
                                    my anxious wishes that your kind endeavours may succeed while it is called to-day, for, by all tokens, it will soon be yesterday with this Ministry. And they ![]()
|  | ASHESTIEL—SEPTEMBER, 1809. | 253 | 
![]()
 well deserve it, for
                                    crossing, jostling, and hampering the measures of the only man among them fit
                                    to be intrusted with the salvation of the country. The spring-tide may for
                                    ought I know, break in this next session of Parliament. There is an evil fate
                                    upon us in all we do at home and abroad, else why should the 
conqueror of Talavera be retreating from the
                                    field of his glory at a moment when, by all reasonable calculation, he should
                                    have been the soul and mover of a combined army of 150,000 English, Spaniards,
                                    and Portuguese? And why should 
Gifford
                                    employ himself at home in the thriftless exercise of correction, as if
                                        Mercury, instead of stretching to a
                                    race himself, were to amuse himself with starting a bedrid cripple, and making
                                    a pair of crutches for him with his own hand? Much might have been done, and
                                    may yet be done; but we are not yet in the right way. Is there no one among you
                                    who can throw a Congreve rocket among the gerunds and supines of that model of
                                    pedants, 
Dr Philopatris Parr? I
                                    understand your foreign lingos too little to attempt it, but pretty things
                                    might be said upon the memorable tureen which he begged of Lord Somebody, whom
                                    he afterwards, wished to prove to be mad. For example, I would adopt some of
                                    the leading phrases of 
independent, high-souled,
                                            contentus parvo, and so forth, with which he is
                                        
bespattered in the 
Edinburgh, and declare it our
                                    opinion, that, if indulged with the three wishes of 
Prior’s tale, he would answer, like
                                    the heroine Corisca— 
|  ‘A ladle to my silver dish   Is all I want, is all I wish.’  | 
![]()
 I did 
not review Miss Edgeworth, nor do I think it all well done; at least, it
                                    falls below my opinion of that lady’s merits. Indeed, I have contributed
                                    nothing to the last Review, and am, therefore, according to all rules, 
![]()
| 254 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 the more entitled to criticise it freely. The conclusion
                                    of the 
article on 
Sir John Moore is transcendently written; and
                                    I think I can venture to say, ‘
aut Erasmus, aut
                                    Diabolus’ Your 
sugar-cake is very far from being a
                                    heavy 
bon-bon; but there I think we stop. The 
Missionaries, though
                                    very good, is on a subject rather stale, and much of the rest is absolute
                                    wading. 
      
       “As an excuse for my own indolence, I have been in
                                    the Highlands for some time past; and who should I meet there, of all fowls in
                                    the air, but your friend Mr Blackburn,
                                    to whom I was so much obliged for the care he took of my late unfortunate relative, at your friendly
                                    request. The recognition was unfortunately made just when I was leaving the
                                    country, and as he was in a gig, and I on the driving-seat of a carriage, the
                                    place of meeting a narrow Highland road, which looked as if forty patent
                                    ploughs had furrowed it, we had not time or space for so long a greeting as we
                                    could have wished. He has a capital good house on the banks of the Leven, about
                                    three miles below its discharge from the lake, and very near the classical spot
                                    where Matthew Bramble and his whole family
                                    were conducted by Smollett, and where
                                        Smollett himself was born. There is a new inducement
                                    for you to come to Caledon. Your health, thank God, is now no impediment; and I
                                    am told sugar and rum excel even whisky, so your purse must be proportionally
                                    distended.” 
     
    
     The unfortunate brother, the blot of the family, to whom Scott alludes in this letter, had disappointed all the hopes
                        under which his friends sent him to Jamaica. It may be remarked, as characteristic of
                            Scott at this time, that in the various letters to Ellis concerning Daniel, he speaks of him as his relation, never as
                        his brother; and it must also be mentioned as a circumstance
                        suggesting that Daniel had retained, after all, some ![]()
|  | DEATH OF DANIEL SCOTT. | 255 | 
![]() sense of pride, that his West Indian
                        patron was allowed by himself to remain, to the end of their connexion, in ignorance of
                        what his distinguished brother had thus thought fit to suppress. Mr Blackburn, in fact, never knew that
                            Daniel was Walter Scott’s brother,
                        until he was applied to for some information respecting him on my own behalf, after this
                        narrative was begun. The story is shortly, that the adventurer’s habits of
                        dissipation proved incurable; but he finally left Jamaica under a stigma which
                            Walter Scott regarded with utter severity. Being employed in some
                        service against a refractory or insurgent body of negroes, he had exhibited a lamentable
                        deficiency of spirit and conduct. He returned to Scotland a dishonoured man; and though he
                        found shelter and compassion from his mother, his brother would never see him again. Nay,
                        when soon after, his health, shattered by dissolute indulgence, and probably the
                        intolerable load of shame, gave way altogether, and he died as yet a young man, the poet
                        refused either to attend his funeral or to wear mourning for him like the rest of the
                        family. Thus sternly, when in the height and pride of his blood, could
                            Scott, whose heart was never hardened against the distress of an
                        enemy, recoil from the disgrace of a brother. It is a more pleasing part of my duty to add,
                        that he spoke to me, twenty years afterwards, in terms of great and painful contrition for
                        the austerity with which he had conducted himself on this occasion. I must add, moreover,
                        that he took a warm interest in a natural child whom
                            Daniel had bequeathed to his mother’s care; and after the
                        old lady’s death, religiously supplied her place as the boy’s protector.
 sense of pride, that his West Indian
                        patron was allowed by himself to remain, to the end of their connexion, in ignorance of
                        what his distinguished brother had thus thought fit to suppress. Mr Blackburn, in fact, never knew that
                            Daniel was Walter Scott’s brother,
                        until he was applied to for some information respecting him on my own behalf, after this
                        narrative was begun. The story is shortly, that the adventurer’s habits of
                        dissipation proved incurable; but he finally left Jamaica under a stigma which
                            Walter Scott regarded with utter severity. Being employed in some
                        service against a refractory or insurgent body of negroes, he had exhibited a lamentable
                        deficiency of spirit and conduct. He returned to Scotland a dishonoured man; and though he
                        found shelter and compassion from his mother, his brother would never see him again. Nay,
                        when soon after, his health, shattered by dissolute indulgence, and probably the
                        intolerable load of shame, gave way altogether, and he died as yet a young man, the poet
                        refused either to attend his funeral or to wear mourning for him like the rest of the
                        family. Thus sternly, when in the height and pride of his blood, could
                            Scott, whose heart was never hardened against the distress of an
                        enemy, recoil from the disgrace of a brother. It is a more pleasing part of my duty to add,
                        that he spoke to me, twenty years afterwards, in terms of great and painful contrition for
                        the austerity with which he had conducted himself on this occasion. I must add, moreover,
                        that he took a warm interest in a natural child whom
                            Daniel had bequeathed to his mother’s care; and after the
                        old lady’s death, religiously supplied her place as the boy’s protector. 
    
     About this time the edition of
                            Sir Ralph Sadler’s State Papers, &c. (3 vols. royal 4 to) was at
                        length completed by Scott, and published by Constable; but the letters which passed between the Editor
                        and the bookseller show ![]()
| 256 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() that their personal estrangement had as yet
                        undergone slender alteration. The collection of the Sadler papers was chiefly the work of Mr Arthur
                            Clifford—but Scott drew up the Memoir and Notes, and
                        superintended the printing. His account of the Life of Sadler* extends to thirty pages; and both it and his notes are written
                        with all that lively solicitude about points of antiquarian detail, which accompanied him
                        through so many tasks less attractive than the personal career of a distinguished statesman
                        intimately connected with the fortunes of Mary Queen of
                            Scots. Some volumes of the edition of Somers’s Tracts (which he had undertaken for Mr Miller and other booksellers of London two or three
                        years before) were also published about the same period; but that compilation was not
                        finished (13 vols. royal 4to) until 1812. His part in it (for which the booksellers paid
                        him 1300 guineas) was diligently performed, and shows abundant traces of his sagacious
                        understanding and graceful expression. His editorial labours on Dryden, Swift, and these other collections, were gradually storing his mind with that
                        minute and accurate knowledge of the leading persons and events both of Scotch and English
                        history, which made his conversation on such subjects that of one who had rather lived with
                        than read about the departed; while, unlike other antiquaries, he always preserved the
                        keenest interest in the transactions of his own time.
 that their personal estrangement had as yet
                        undergone slender alteration. The collection of the Sadler papers was chiefly the work of Mr Arthur
                            Clifford—but Scott drew up the Memoir and Notes, and
                        superintended the printing. His account of the Life of Sadler* extends to thirty pages; and both it and his notes are written
                        with all that lively solicitude about points of antiquarian detail, which accompanied him
                        through so many tasks less attractive than the personal career of a distinguished statesman
                        intimately connected with the fortunes of Mary Queen of
                            Scots. Some volumes of the edition of Somers’s Tracts (which he had undertaken for Mr Miller and other booksellers of London two or three
                        years before) were also published about the same period; but that compilation was not
                        finished (13 vols. royal 4to) until 1812. His part in it (for which the booksellers paid
                        him 1300 guineas) was diligently performed, and shows abundant traces of his sagacious
                        understanding and graceful expression. His editorial labours on Dryden, Swift, and these other collections, were gradually storing his mind with that
                        minute and accurate knowledge of the leading persons and events both of Scotch and English
                        history, which made his conversation on such subjects that of one who had rather lived with
                        than read about the departed; while, unlike other antiquaries, he always preserved the
                        keenest interest in the transactions of his own time. 
    
     The reader has seen that during his stay in London in the spring of this
                        year, Scott became strongly impressed with a suspicion
                        that the Duke of Portland’s Cabinet could not
                        much longer hold together; and the letters which have been quoted, when considered along
                        with the actual course of subsequent events, can leave little doubt 
![]() 
                        ![]()
|  | CANNING AND CASTLEREAGH—1809. | 257 | 
![]() that he had gathered this
                        impression from the tone of Mr Canning’s
                        private conversation as to the recent management of the War Department by Lord Castlereagh. It is now known that, as early as Easter,
                        the Secretary for Foreign Affairs had informed the head of the Government that, unless the
                        Secretary for War and the Colonies were replaced by a more competent person, he himself
                        must withdraw from the Ministry; that the Duke of Portland and the
                        majority of the Cabinet concurred in the necessity of Lord
                            Castlereagh’s removal, but pressed Mr Canning to
                        allow the matter to lie over until the conclusion of the Parliamentary Session; that
                            Mr Canning, reluctantly agreeing to this delay, continued to sit
                        for some months in the same Cabinet with the colleague whose eventual dismissal had been
                        conceded to his representation; and that when, on the 20th of September, the Duke
                            of Portland at length informed him of Mr
                            Canning’s resolution, with the date of its original communication to
                        his Grace and the other Ministers, Lord Castlereagh tendered his
                        resignation, and wrote the same day to Mr Canning, reproaching him
                        with double dealing. “Having,” he said, “pronounced it unfit
                            that I should remain charged with the conduct of the war, and made my situation as a
                            Minister of the Crown dependent on your will and pleasure, you continued to sit in the
                            same Cabinet with me, and leave me not only in the persuasion that I possessed your
                            confidence and support as a colleague, but allowed me, in breach of every principle of
                            good faith, both public and private, to originate and proceed in the execution of a new
                            enterprise of the most arduous and important nature (the Walcheren Expedition) with
                            your apparent concurrence and ostensible approbation. You were fully aware that, if my
                            situation in the government had been disclosed to me, I could not have submitted to
                            remain one moment in office, without
 that he had gathered this
                        impression from the tone of Mr Canning’s
                        private conversation as to the recent management of the War Department by Lord Castlereagh. It is now known that, as early as Easter,
                        the Secretary for Foreign Affairs had informed the head of the Government that, unless the
                        Secretary for War and the Colonies were replaced by a more competent person, he himself
                        must withdraw from the Ministry; that the Duke of Portland and the
                        majority of the Cabinet concurred in the necessity of Lord
                            Castlereagh’s removal, but pressed Mr Canning to
                        allow the matter to lie over until the conclusion of the Parliamentary Session; that
                            Mr Canning, reluctantly agreeing to this delay, continued to sit
                        for some months in the same Cabinet with the colleague whose eventual dismissal had been
                        conceded to his representation; and that when, on the 20th of September, the Duke
                            of Portland at length informed him of Mr
                            Canning’s resolution, with the date of its original communication to
                        his Grace and the other Ministers, Lord Castlereagh tendered his
                        resignation, and wrote the same day to Mr Canning, reproaching him
                        with double dealing. “Having,” he said, “pronounced it unfit
                            that I should remain charged with the conduct of the war, and made my situation as a
                            Minister of the Crown dependent on your will and pleasure, you continued to sit in the
                            same Cabinet with me, and leave me not only in the persuasion that I possessed your
                            confidence and support as a colleague, but allowed me, in breach of every principle of
                            good faith, both public and private, to originate and proceed in the execution of a new
                            enterprise of the most arduous and important nature (the Walcheren Expedition) with
                            your apparent concurrence and ostensible approbation. You were fully aware that, if my
                            situation in the government had been disclosed to me, I could not have submitted to
                            remain one moment in office, without ![]()
| 258 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() the entire abandonment of my
                            private honour and public duty. You knew I was deceived, and you continued to deceive
                            me.”
 the entire abandonment of my
                            private honour and public duty. You knew I was deceived, and you continued to deceive
                            me.” 
    
     The result was a duel on the morning of the 21st, in which Mr Canning was attended by Mr
                            Charles Ellis (now Lord Seaford) as his second.
                            Mr Canning, at the second fire, was severely wounded in the thigh,
                        while his antagonist, had a narrow escape, a button on the lapel of his coat having been
                        shot off. In consequence of this quarrel, both Lord Castlereagh and
                            Mr Canning retired from office; their example was followed by the
                            Duke of Portland himself; and after fruitless
                        negotiations with Lords Grey and Grenville, Mr Percival
                        became First Lord of the Treasury, as well as Chancellor of the Exchequer; while the
                            Marquis Wellesley took the Seals of the Foreign
                        Department, and Lord Liverpool removed from the Home
                        Office to that which Lord Castlereagh had occupied.
                        There were some other changes, but Scott’s friend,
                            Mr R. Dundas (now Lord
                            Melville), remained in his place at the head of the Board of Control. 
    
     While the public mind was occupied with the duel and its yet uncertain
                        results, Scott wrote as follows to the nearest relation
                        and most intimate friend of Mr Canning’s second:— 
    
      To George Ellis, Esq.
    
    
      
       “Ashestiel, Sept. 26, 1809. 
      
      
       “Your letter gave me great pleasure, especially the
                                    outside, for Canning’s frank
                                    assured me that his wound was at least not materially serious. So for once the
                                    envelope of your letter was even more welcome than the contents. That harebrained Irishman’s letter car-![]()
![]()
ries absurdity upon the face of it,
                                    for surely he would have had much more reason for personal animosity had
                                        Canning made the matter public, against the wishes of
                                    his uncle and every other person concerned, than for his consenting, at their
                                    request, that it should remain a secret, and leaving it to them to make such
                                    communication to Lord C. as they should think proper, and
                                    when they should think proper. I am ill situated here for the explanations I
                                    would wish to give, but I have forwarded copies of the letters to 
Lord Dalkeith, a high-spirited and independent
                                    young nobleman, in whose opinion Mr Canning would, I
                                    think, wish to stand well. I have also taken some measures to prevent the good
                                    folks of Edinburgh from running after any straw that may be thrown into the
                                    wind. I wrote a very hurried note to 
Mr C.
                                        Ellis the instant I saw the accident in the papers, not knowing
                                    exactly where you might be, and trusting he would excuse my extreme anxiety and
                                    solicitude upon the occasion. 
      
       “I see, among other reports, that my friend,
                                        Robert Dundas, is mentioned as
                                    Secretary at War. I confess I shall be both vexed and disappointed if he, of
                                    whose talents and opinions I. think very highly, should be prevailed on to
                                    embark in so patched and crazy a vessel as can now be lashed together, and that
                                    upon a sea which promises to be sufficiently boisterous. My own hopes of every
                                    kind are as low as the heels of my boots, and methinks I would say to any
                                    friend of mine as Tybalt says to Benvolio—‘What! art thou drawn among
                                        these heartless hinds?’ I suppose the
                                        Doctor will be move the first, and then
                                    the Whigs will come in like a land-flood, and lay the country at the feet of
                                        Buonaparte for peace. This, if his
                                    devil does not fail, he will readily patch up, and send a few hundred thousands
                                    among our coach-driving noblesse, and perhaps among our Princes of the ![]()
| 260 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 Blood. With the influence acquired by such 
gages d’amitié, and by
                                    ostentatious hospitality at his court to all those idiots who will forget the
                                    rat-trap of the 
detenus, and crowd
                                    there for novelty, there will be, in the course of five or six years, what we
                                    have never yet seen, a real French party in this country. To this you are to
                                    add all the Burdettites, men who, rather than want combustibles, will fetch
                                    brimstone from hell. It is not these whom I fear, however, it is the vile and
                                    degrading spirit of 
egoisme so
                                    prevalent among the higher ranks, especially among the highest. God forgive me
                                    if I do them injustice, but I think champagne duty free would go a great way to
                                    seduce some of them; and is it not a strong symptom when people, knowing and
                                    feeling their own weakness, will, from mere selfishness and pride, suffer the
                                    vessel to drive on the shelves rather than she should be saved by the only
                                    pilot capable of the task? I will be much obliged to you to let me know what is
                                    likely to be done—whether any fight can yet be made, or if all is over.
                                        
Lord Melville had been furious for some
                                    time against this Administration—I think he will hardly lend a hand to clear
                                    the wreck. I should think, if 
Marquis
                                        Wellesley returns, he might form a steady Administration, but
                                    God wot he must condemn most of the present rotten planks before he can lay
                                    down the new vessel. Above all, let me know how 
Canning’s recovery goes on. We must think what is to be
                                    done about the Review. Ever yours truly, 
      
W. S.” 
     
    
    Scott’s views as to the transactions of this
                        period, and the principal parties concerned in them, were considerably altered by the
                        observation of subsequent years; but I have been much interested with watching the course
                        of his sentiments and opinions on such subjects; and, in the belief that others may feel in
                        the same way ![]()
![]() with myself, I shall insert,
                        without comment, some further extracts from this correspondence:
 with myself, I shall insert,
                        without comment, some further extracts from this correspondence: 
    
      To the Same.
    
    
      
       “Ashestiel, Nov. 3, 1809. 
      
      
       “I had your letter some time ago, which gave me less
                                    comfort in the present public emergency than your letters usually do. Frankly,
                                    I see great doubts, not to say an impossibility, of Canning’s attaining that rank among the Opposition which
                                    will enable him to command the use of their shoulders to place him where you
                                    cannot be more convinced that I am—he is entitled to stand. The condottieri of the Grenvilles,—for they have no political principles, and
                                    therefore no political party, detached from their immense influence over
                                    individuals—will hardly be seduced from their standard to that of
                                        Canning, by an eloquence which has been exerted upon
                                    them in vain, even when they might have hoped to be gainers by listening to it.
                                    The soi-disant Whigs stick together
                                    like burs. The ragged regiment of Burdett and Folkstone is
                                    under yet stricter discipline, for you may have observed that no lover was ever
                                    so jealous of his mistress as Sir Francis is of his mob
                                    popularity—witness the fate of Paull,
                                        Tierney, even Wardle; in short, of whomsoever presumed to
                                    rival the brazen image whom the mob of Westminster has set up. That either, or
                                    both of these parties, will be delighted with the accession of our
                                    friend’s wisdom and eloquence, cannot for a moment be disputed. That the
                                        Grenvilles, in particular, did he only propose to
                                    himself a slice of the great pudding, would allow him to help himself where the
                                    plums lie thickest, cannot be doubted. But I think it is very doubtful whether
                                    they, closely banded and confident of ![]()
| 262 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 triumph as they at
                                    present are, will accept of a colleague upon terms which would make him a
                                    master; and unless Canning has these, it appears to me
                                    that we (the Republic) should be no better than if he had retained his office
                                    in the present, or rather late, Administration. But how far, in throwing
                                    himself altogether into the arms of Opposition at this crisis,
                                        Canning will injure himself with the large and sound
                                    party who profess 
Pittism, is, I really think, worthy of
                                    consideration. The influence of his name is at present as great as you or I
                                    could wish it; but those who wish to undermine it want but, according to our
                                    Scottish proverb, ‘a hair to make a tether of.’ I admit his hand is
                                    very difficult to play, and much as I love and admire him, I am most interested
                                    because it is the decided interest of his country, that he should pique,
                                    repique, and capot his antagonists. But you know much of the delicacy of the
                                    game lies in 
discarding—so I hope he will be in no hurry
                                    on throwing out his cards. 
      
       “I am the more anxious on this score, because I feel
                                    an internal conviction that neither Marquis
                                        Wellesley nor Lord Melville
                                    will lend their names to bolster out this rump of an Administration. Symptoms
                                    of this are said to have transpired in Scotland, but in this retirement I
                                    cannot learn upon what authority. Should this prove so, I confess my best
                                    wishes would be realized, because I cannot see how Percival could avoid surrendering at discretion, and taking,
                                    perhaps, a peerage. We should then have an Administration à la Pitt, which is a much better thing than an Opposition,
                                    howsoever conducted or headed, which, like a wave of the sea, forms indeed but
                                    a single body when it is rolling towards the shore, but dashes into foam and
                                    dispersion the instant it reaches its object. Should Canning and the above named noble peers come
                                    to understand each other, joined to all among the present Ministry whom their
                                        na-![]()
|  | POLITICKS CANNING, ETC.—1809. | 263 | 
![]()
tive good sense,
                                    and an attachment to good warm places, will lead to hear reason, it does seem
                                    to me that we might form a deeper front to the enemy than we have presented
                                    since the death of Pitt, or rather since the dissolution
                                    of his first Administration. But if this be a dream, as it may very probably
                                    be, I still hope Canning will take his own ground in
                                    Parliament, and hoist his own standard. Sooner or later it must be successful.
                                    So much for politics—about which, after all, my neighbours the 
black-cocks know about as much as I do. 
      
       “I have a great deal to write you about a new poem which I have on the
                                    anvil—also, upon the melancholy death of a favourite greyhound bitch—rest her
                                    body, since I dare not say soul! She was of high blood and excellent promise.
                                    Should any of your sporting friends have a whelp to spare, of a good kind, and
                                    of the female sex, I would be grateful beyond measure, especially if she has
                                    had the distemper. As I have quite laid aside the gun, coursing is my only and
                                    constant amusement, and my valued pair of four-legged champions, Douglas and Percy, wax old
                                    and unfeary. Ever yours truly, 
      W. S.” 
     
    
      To Walter Scott, Esq.
    
    
      
       “Gloucester Lodge, Nov. 13, 1809. 
       “My dear Sir, 
      
       “I am very sensibly gratified by your kind
                                    expressions, whether of condolence or congratulation, and I acknowledge, if not
                                    (with your Highland writer) the
                                    synonymousness of the two terms, at least the union of the two sentiments, as
                                    applied to my present circumstances. I am not so heroically fond of being out
                                            (quátenus out), as not
                                    to consider that a matter of condolence. But I am at the same time sufficiently
                                    convinced of the desirableness of not being in, when one should be in to no
                                    purpose, ![]()
| 264 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 either of public advantage or personal credit,
                                    to be satisfied that on that ground I am entitled to your congratulations. 
      
       “I should be very happy indeed to look forward, with
                                    the prospect of being able to realize it, to the trip to Scotland which you
                                    suggest to me; and still more to the visit included therein, which, as you hold
                                    it out, would not be the least part of my temptation. Of this, however, I hope
                                    we shall have opportunities of talking before the season arrives; for I reckon
                                    upon your spring visit to London, and think of it, I assure you, with great
                                    pleasure, as likely to happen at a period when I shall have it more in my power
                                    than I have had on any former occasion to enjoy the advantage of it. You will
                                    find me not in quite so romantic a scene of seclusion and tranquillity here as
                                    that which you describe—but very tranquil and secluded nevertheless, at a mile
                                    and a half’s distance from Hyde Park Corner—a distance considerable
                                    enough, as I now am, to save me from any very overwhelming ‘unda salutantium.’ 
      
       “Here, or any where else, I beg you to believe in the
                                    very sincere satisfaction which I shall derive from your society, and which I
                                    do derive from the assurance of your regard and good opinion. Ever, my dear
                                    sir, very truly and faithfully yours, 
      
      
        
         “P.S.—I expect, in the course of this week, to
                                        send you a copy of a more ample statement of the circumstances of my
                                        retirement, which the misrepresentations of some who, I think, must have known they were misrepresenting (though that I must not say), have
                                        rendered necessary.” 
       
     
    
     I could not quote more largely from these political letters without
                        trespassing against the feelings of dis-![]()
![]() tinguished individuals still alive. I believe the extracts which I have given are
                        sufficient to illustrate the sagacity with which Scott
                        had at that early period apprehended the dangers to which the political career of Mr Canning was exposed, by the jealousy of the old Tory
                        aristocracy on the one hand, and the insidious flatteries of Whig intriguers on the other.
                        Even in communications which he must have known would pass under Mr
                            Canning’s own eye, I think we may trace something of the lurking
                        suspicion, that a propensity to tamper with intrigue might eventually develope itself in
                        that great statesman’s otherwise noble character. In after years he certainly
                        expressed himself concerning the quarrel of 1809 as if, on a cool retrospect, he considered
                        the “harebrained Irishman” to have been
                        much more sinned against than sinning; but his original impressions on this point had of
                        course been modified by the subsequent lives of the two antagonists—as, indeed, his
                        correspondence will be found to confess. I willingly turn from
                            Scott’s politics to some other matters, which about this
                        time occupied a large share of his thoughts.
tinguished individuals still alive. I believe the extracts which I have given are
                        sufficient to illustrate the sagacity with which Scott
                        had at that early period apprehended the dangers to which the political career of Mr Canning was exposed, by the jealousy of the old Tory
                        aristocracy on the one hand, and the insidious flatteries of Whig intriguers on the other.
                        Even in communications which he must have known would pass under Mr
                            Canning’s own eye, I think we may trace something of the lurking
                        suspicion, that a propensity to tamper with intrigue might eventually develope itself in
                        that great statesman’s otherwise noble character. In after years he certainly
                        expressed himself concerning the quarrel of 1809 as if, on a cool retrospect, he considered
                        the “harebrained Irishman” to have been
                        much more sinned against than sinning; but his original impressions on this point had of
                        course been modified by the subsequent lives of the two antagonists—as, indeed, his
                        correspondence will be found to confess. I willingly turn from
                            Scott’s politics to some other matters, which about this
                        time occupied a large share of his thoughts. 
    
     He had from his boyish days a great love for theatrical representation;
                        and so soon as circumstances enabled him to practise extended hospitality, the chief actors
                        of his time, whenever they happened to be in Scotland, were among the most acceptable of
                        his guests. Mr Charles Young was, I believe, the
                        first of them of whom he saw much: As early as 1803 I find him writing of that gentleman to
                        the Marchioness of Abercorn as a valuable addition to
                        the society of Edinburgh; and down to the end of Scott’s life
                            Mr Young was never in the north without visiting him. 
    
     Another graceful and intelligent performer in whom he took a special
                        interest, and of whom he saw a great ![]()
| 266 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() deal in his private circle, was
                            Miss Smith, afterwards Mrs
                            Bartley. But at the period of which I am now treating, his principal
                        theatrical intimacy was with John Philip Kemble, and
                        his sister Mrs Siddons, both of whom he appears to
                        have often met at Lord Abercorn’s villa near
                        Stanmore, during his spring visits to London after the first establishment of his poetical
                        celebrity. Of John Kemble’s personal character and manners, he
                        has recorded his impressions in a pleasing reviewal of Mr Boaden’s Memoir.* The great tragedian’s love
                        of black-letter learning, especially of dramatic antiquities, afforded a strong bond of
                        fellowship; and I have heard Scott say that the only man who ever
                        seduced him into very deep potations in his middle life was Kemble. He
                        was frequently at Ashestiel, and the “fat Scotch butler,” whom Mr Skene has described to us, by name John Macbeth, made sore complaints of the bad hours kept
                        on such occasions in one of the most regular of households; but the watchings of the night
                        were not more grievous to “Cousin Macbeth,” as
                            Kemble called the honest beauffetier, than were the hazards and fatigues of the morning to
                        the representative of the Scotch usurper. Kemble’s miseries
                        during a rough gallop were quite as grotesque as those of his namesake, and it must be
                        owned that species of distress was one from the contemplation of which his host could never
                        derive any thing but amusement.
 deal in his private circle, was
                            Miss Smith, afterwards Mrs
                            Bartley. But at the period of which I am now treating, his principal
                        theatrical intimacy was with John Philip Kemble, and
                        his sister Mrs Siddons, both of whom he appears to
                        have often met at Lord Abercorn’s villa near
                        Stanmore, during his spring visits to London after the first establishment of his poetical
                        celebrity. Of John Kemble’s personal character and manners, he
                        has recorded his impressions in a pleasing reviewal of Mr Boaden’s Memoir.* The great tragedian’s love
                        of black-letter learning, especially of dramatic antiquities, afforded a strong bond of
                        fellowship; and I have heard Scott say that the only man who ever
                        seduced him into very deep potations in his middle life was Kemble. He
                        was frequently at Ashestiel, and the “fat Scotch butler,” whom Mr Skene has described to us, by name John Macbeth, made sore complaints of the bad hours kept
                        on such occasions in one of the most regular of households; but the watchings of the night
                        were not more grievous to “Cousin Macbeth,” as
                            Kemble called the honest beauffetier, than were the hazards and fatigues of the morning to
                        the representative of the Scotch usurper. Kemble’s miseries
                        during a rough gallop were quite as grotesque as those of his namesake, and it must be
                        owned that species of distress was one from the contemplation of which his host could never
                        derive any thing but amusement. 
    
     I have heard Scott chuckle with
                        particular glee over the recollection of an excursion to the vale of the Ettrick, near
                        which river the party were pursued by a bull. “Come, King John,” said he, “we must even take the
                            water,” and accordingly he and his daughter 
![]() 
                        ![]()
![]() plunged into the stream. But King
                            John, halting on the bank and surveying the river, which happened to be full
                        and turbid, exclaimed, in his usual solemn manner,
 plunged into the stream. But King
                            John, halting on the bank and surveying the river, which happened to be full
                        and turbid, exclaimed, in his usual solemn manner, |  —“The flood is angry, Sheriff,   Methinks I’ll get me up into a tree.”*  | 
![]() It was well that the dogs had succeeded in diverting the bull, because there was no
                        tree at hand which could have sustained King John, nor, had that been
                        otherwise, could so stately a personage have dismounted and ascended with such alacrity as
                        circumstances would have required. He at length followed his friends through the river with
                        the rueful dignity of Don Quixote.
 It was well that the dogs had succeeded in diverting the bull, because there was no
                        tree at hand which could have sustained King John, nor, had that been
                        otherwise, could so stately a personage have dismounted and ascended with such alacrity as
                        circumstances would have required. He at length followed his friends through the river with
                        the rueful dignity of Don Quixote. 
    
     It was this intercourse which led Scott to exert himself very strenuously, when some change in the
                        administration of the Edinburgh stage became necessary—(I believe in 1808),—to prevail on
                            Mr Henry Siddons, the nephew of Kemble, to undertake the lease and management. Such an
                        arrangement would, he expected, induce both Kemble and his sister to be more in Scotland than hitherto; and what he
                        had seen of young Siddons himself led him to prognosticate a great
                        improvement in the whole conduct of the northern stage. His wishes were at length
                        accomplished in the summer of 1809. On this occasion he purchased a share, and became one
                        of the acting trustees for the general body of proprietors; and thenceforth, during a long
                        series of years, he continued to take a very lively concern in the proceedings of the
                        Edinburgh company. In this he was plentifully encouraged by his domestic camarilla; for his wife had all a Frenchwoman’s passion for the 
|  * John Kemble’s
                                most familiar table-talk often flowed into blank verse; and so indeed did his
                                    sister’s. Scott (who was a capital mimic) often repeated her tragic
                                exclamation to a footboy during a dinner at Ashestiel,  |  “You’ve brought me water, boy,—I asked for beer.”  | 
 ![]() | 
![]() 
                        ![]()
| 268 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() spectacle; and the elder of the two Ballantynes (both equally devoted to the company of players) was a regular
                        newspaper critic of theatrical affairs, and in that capacity had already attained a measure
                        of authority supremely gratifying to himself.
                        spectacle; and the elder of the two Ballantynes (both equally devoted to the company of players) was a regular
                        newspaper critic of theatrical affairs, and in that capacity had already attained a measure
                        of authority supremely gratifying to himself. 
    
     The first new play produced by Henry
                            Siddons was the Family
                            Legend of Joanna Baillie. This was, I
                        believe, the first of her dramas that ever underwent the test of representation in her
                        native kingdom; and Scott appears to have exerted
                        himself most indefatiga.bly in its behalf. He was consulted about all the minutiæ of costume, attended every rehearsal, and supplied the prologue. The
                        play was better received than any other which the gifted authoress has since subjected to
                        the same experiment; and how ardently Scott enjoyed its success will
                        appear from a few specimens of the many letters which he addressed to his friend on the
                        occasion. 
    
     The first of these letters is dated Edinburgh, October 27, 1809. He had
                        gone into town for the purpose of entering his eldest
                            boy at the High School:— 
    
      
      
       “On receiving your long kind letter yesterday, I
                                    sought out Siddons, who was equally
                                    surprised and delighted at your liberal arrangement about the Lady of the Rock.
                                    I will put all the names to rights, and retain enough of locality and
                                    personality to please the antiquary, without the least risk of bringing the
                                    clan Gillian about our ears. I went through the theatre,
                                    which is the most complete little thing of the kind I ever saw, elegantly
                                    fitted up, and large enough for every purpose. I trust, with you, that in this
                                    as in other cases, our Scotch poverty may be a counterbalance to our Scotch
                                    pride, and that we shall not need in my time a larger or more expensive
                                    building. Siddons himself observes, that even for the
                                    purposes of show (so paramount now-![]()
|  | JOANNA BAILLIE’S FAMILY LEGEND. | 269 | 
![]()
adays) a moderate stage is
                                    better fitted than a large one, because the machinery is pliable and manageable
                                    in proportion to its size. With regard to the equipment of the 
Family Legend, I have been
                                    much diverted with a discovery which I have made. I had occasion to visit our
                                        
Lord Provost (by profession a
                                    stocking-weaver),* and was surprised to find the worthy magistrate filled with
                                    a new born zeal for the drama. He spoke of Mr
                                    Siddons’ merits with enthusiasm, and of 
Miss Baillie’s powers almost with tears
                                    of rapture. Being a curious investigator of cause and effect, I never rested
                                    until I found out that this theatric rage which had seized his lordship of a
                                    sudden, was owing to a large order for hose, pantaloons, and plaids for
                                    equipping the rival clans of Campbell and
                                        Maclean, and which Siddons was
                                    sensible enough to send to the warehouse of our excellent provost. . . . .
                                        
The Laird† is just gone to the
                                    High School, and it is with inexpressible feeling that I hear him trying to
                                    babble the first words of Latin, the signal of commencing serious study, for
                                    his acquirements hitherto have been under the mild dominion of a governess. I
                                    felt very like Leontes— 
|  “Looking on the lines   Of my boy’s face, methought I did recall   Thirty good years”—  | 
![]() 
                                    |  * This magistrate was Mr
                                                William Coulter, who died in office in April, 1810, and
                                            is said to have been greatly consoled on his deathbed by the prospect
                                            of so grand a funeral as must needs occur in the case of an actual Lord
                                            Provost of Auld Reekie. Scott used
                                            to take him off as, saying at some public meeting, “Gentlemen,
                                            though doomed to the trade of a stocking-weaver, I was born with the
                                            soul of a Sheepio!”
                                                (Scipio.)   † Young Walter
                                                Scott was called Gilnockie, the Laird of
                                                Gilnockie, or simply the Laird,
                                            in consequence of his childish admiration for Johnnie Armstrong, whose ruined tower
                                            is still extant at Gilnockie on the Esk, nearly opposite Netherby.  | 
![]() 
                                    ![]()
| 270 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 And O my dear Miss Baillie, what a
                                    tale thirty years can tell even in an uniform and unhazardous course of life!
                                    How much I have reaped that I have never sown, and sown that I have never
                                    reaped! Always, I shall think it one of the proudest and happiest circumstances
                                    of my life that enables me to subscribe myself your faithful and affectionate
                                    friend, 
      
W. S.” 
     
    
     Three months later he thus communicates the result of the experiment. 
    
      To Miss Joanna Baillie, Hampstead.
    
    
      
       “Jan. 30th, 1810. 
      
      
       “You have only to imagine all that you could wish to
                                    give success to a play, and your conceptions will still fall short of the
                                    complete and decided triumph of the Family Legend. The house was crowded to a most extraordinary
                                    degree; many people had come from your native capital of the west; every thing
                                    that pretended to distinction, whether from rank or literature, was in the
                                    boxes, and in the pit such an aggregate mass of humanity as I have seldom if
                                    ever witnessed in the same space. It was quite obvious from the beginning, that
                                    the cause was to be very fairly tried before the public, and that if any thing
                                    went wrong, no effort, even of your numerous and zealous friends, could have
                                    had much influence in guiding or restraining the general feeling. Some
                                    good-natured persons had been kind enough to propagate reports of a strong
                                    opposition, which, though I considered them as totally groundless, did not by
                                    any means lessen the extreme anxiety with which I waited the rise of the
                                    curtain. But in a short time I saw there ![]()
|  | THE FAMILY LEGEND—1810. | 271 | 
![]()
 was no ground whatever for apprehension, and
                                    yet I sat the whole time shaking for fear a scene-shifter, or a carpenter, or
                                    some of the subaltern actors should make some blunder, and interrupt the
                                    feeling of deep and general interest which soon seized on the whole pit, box,
                                    and gallery, as Mr Bayes has it. The scene
                                    on the rock struck the utmost possible effect into the audience, and you heard
                                    nothing but sobs on all sides. The banquet-scene was equally impressive, and so
                                    was the combat. Of the greater scenes, that between Lorn and Helen in the
                                    castle of Maclean, that between Helen and her lover, and the examination of
                                        Maclean himself in Argyle’s castle, were applauded to the very
                                    echo. 
Siddons announced the play
                                        ‘
for the rest of the week,’ which was
                                    received not only with a thunder of applause, but with cheering and throwing up
                                    of hats and handkerchiefs. 
Mrs Siddons
                                    supported her part incomparably, although just recovered from the indisposition
                                    mentioned in my last. Siddons himself played Lorn very well indeed, and moved and looked with
                                    great spirit. A 
Mr Terry, who promises
                                    to be a fine performer, went through the part of the Old Earl with great taste
                                    and effect. For the rest I cannot say much, excepting that from highest to
                                    lowest they were most accurately perfect in their parts, and did their very
                                    best. Malcolm de Grey was tolerable but 
stickish—Maclean
                                    came off decently—but the conspirators were sad hounds. You are, my dear
                                        Miss Baillie, too much of a democrat in your writings;
                                    you allow life, soul, and spirit to these inferior creatures of the drama, and
                                    expect they will be the better of it. Now it was obvious to me, that the poor
                                    monsters, whose mouths are only of use to spout the vapid blank verse which
                                    your modern playwright puts into the part of the confidant and subaltern
                                    villain of his piece, did not know what to make of the energetic and poetical
                                    diction which 
![]()
| 272 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 even these subordinate departments abound
                                    with in the Legend. As the play greatly exceeded the usual length (lasting till
                                    half-past ten), we intend, when it is repeated to-night, to omit some of the
                                    passages where the weight necessarily fell on the weakest of our host, although
                                    we may hereby injure the detail of the plot. The scenery was very good, and the
                                    rock, without appearance of pantomime, was so contrived as to place
                                        Mrs Siddons in a very precarious situation to all
                                    appearance. The dresses were more tawdry than I should have judged proper, but
                                    expensive and showy. I got my 
brother
                                        John’s Highland recruiting party to reinforce the garrison
                                    of Inverary, and as they mustered beneath the porch of the castle, and seemed
                                    to fill the court-yard behind, the combat scene had really the appearance of
                                    reality. Siddons has been most attentive, anxious,
                                    assiduous, and docile, and had drilled his troops so well that the
                                    prompter’s aid was unnecessary, and I do not believe he gave a single
                                    hint the whole night; nor were there any false or ridiculous accents or
                                    gestures even among the underlings, though God knows they fell often far short
                                    of the true spirit. Mrs Siddons spoke the epilogue*
                                    extremely well: the prologue,† which I will send you in its revised
                                    state, was also very well received. 
Mrs
                                        Scott sends her kindest compliments of congratulation; she had a
                                    party of thirty friends in one small box, which she was obliged to watch like a
                                    clucking hen till she had gathered her whole flock, for the crowd was
                                    insufferable. I am going to see the Legend to-night,
                                    when I shall enjoy it quietly, for last night I was so much interested in its
                                    reception that I cannot say I was at leisure to attend to the feelings arising
                                    from the representation itself. People are dying to read it. If you think of
                                    suffering a single edition to be 
![]() 
                                    ![]()
![]()
 printed to gratify their curiosity, I
                                    will take care of it. But I do not advise this, because until printed no other
                                    theatres can have it before you give leave. My kind respects attend 
Miss Agnes Baillie, and believe me ever your
                                    obliged and faithful servant, 
      
      
        
         “P.S. A friend of
                                            mine writes dramatic criticism now and then. I have begged
                                        him to send me a copy of the Edinburgh paper in which he inserts his
                                        lucubrations, and I will transmit it to you: he is a play-going man, and
                                        more in the habit of expressing himself on such subjects than most
                                        people.—In case you have not got a playbill, I enclose one, because I think
                                        in my own case I should like to see it.” 
       
     
    
     The Family Legend had
                        a continuous run of fourteen nights, and was soon afterwards printed and published by the
                            Ballantynes. 
    
     The theatrical critic alluded to
                        in the last of these letters was the elder of those brothers; the newspaper in which his
                        lucubrations then appeared was the Edinburgh Evening Courant; and so it continued until 1817, when the
                            Edinburgh Weekly
                                Journal was purchased by the printing company in the Canongate; ever
                        after which period it was edited by the prominent member of that firm, and from time to
                        time was the vehicle of many fugitive pieces by the unseen partner. 
    
     In one of these letters there occurs, for the first time, the name of a
                        person who soon obtained a large share of Scott’s
                        regard and confidence—the late ingenious comedian, Mr Daniel
                            Terry. He had received a good education, and been regularly trained as an
                        architect; but abandoned that profession, at an early period of life, for the stage, and
                        was now beginning to attract attention as a va-![]()
| 274 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() luable and efficient
                        actor in Henry Siddons’s new company at
                        Edinburgh. Already he and the Ballantynes were constant companions,
                        and through his familiarity with them, Scott had abundant
                        opportunities of appreciating his many excellent and agreeable qualities. He had the
                        manners and feelings of a gentleman. Like John
                            Kemble, he was deeply skilled in the old literature of the drama, and he
                        rivalled Scott’s own enthusiasm for the antiquities of
                                vertu. Their epistolary correspondence in
                        after days was frequent, and will supply me with many illustrations of
                            Scott’s minor tastes and habits. As their letters lie before
                        me, they appear as if they had all been penned by the same hand.
                            Terry’s idolatry of his new friend induced him to imitate
                        his writing so zealously, that Scott used to say, if he were called on
                        to swear to any document, the utmost he could venture to attest would be, that it was
                        either in his own hand or in Terry’s. The actor, perhaps
                        unconsciously, mimicked him in other matters with hardly inferior pertinacity. His small
                        lively features had acquired, before I knew him, a truly ludicrous cast of
                            Scott’s graver expression; he had taught his tiny eyebrow
                        the very trick of the poet’s meditative frown; and to crown all, he so habitually
                        affected his tone and accent that, though a native of Bath, a stranger could hardly have
                        doubted he must be a Scotchman. These things afforded Scott and all
                        their mutual acquaintances much diversion; but perhaps no Stoic could have helped being
                        secretly gratified by seeing a clever and sensible man convert himself into a living type
                        and symbol of admiration.
luable and efficient
                        actor in Henry Siddons’s new company at
                        Edinburgh. Already he and the Ballantynes were constant companions,
                        and through his familiarity with them, Scott had abundant
                        opportunities of appreciating his many excellent and agreeable qualities. He had the
                        manners and feelings of a gentleman. Like John
                            Kemble, he was deeply skilled in the old literature of the drama, and he
                        rivalled Scott’s own enthusiasm for the antiquities of
                                vertu. Their epistolary correspondence in
                        after days was frequent, and will supply me with many illustrations of
                            Scott’s minor tastes and habits. As their letters lie before
                        me, they appear as if they had all been penned by the same hand.
                            Terry’s idolatry of his new friend induced him to imitate
                        his writing so zealously, that Scott used to say, if he were called on
                        to swear to any document, the utmost he could venture to attest would be, that it was
                        either in his own hand or in Terry’s. The actor, perhaps
                        unconsciously, mimicked him in other matters with hardly inferior pertinacity. His small
                        lively features had acquired, before I knew him, a truly ludicrous cast of
                            Scott’s graver expression; he had taught his tiny eyebrow
                        the very trick of the poet’s meditative frown; and to crown all, he so habitually
                        affected his tone and accent that, though a native of Bath, a stranger could hardly have
                        doubted he must be a Scotchman. These things afforded Scott and all
                        their mutual acquaintances much diversion; but perhaps no Stoic could have helped being
                        secretly gratified by seeing a clever and sensible man convert himself into a living type
                        and symbol of admiration. 
    
    Charles Mathews and Terry were once thrown out of a gig together, and the former received an
                        injury which made him halt ever afterwards, while the latter escaped unhurt.
                            “Dooms, Dauniel,” said
                            Mathews when they next met, “what a pity that it wasna
                            your luck to get ![]()
![]() the game leg, mon!
                            Your Shirra wad hae been the very thing, ye ken,
                            an’ ye wad hae been croose till ye war coffined!”
                            Terry, though he did not always relish bantering on this subject,
                        replied readily and good-humouredly by a quotation from Peter
                            Pindar’s Bozzy and Piozzi:—
 the game leg, mon!
                            Your Shirra wad hae been the very thing, ye ken,
                            an’ ye wad hae been croose till ye war coffined!”
                            Terry, though he did not always relish bantering on this subject,
                        replied readily and good-humouredly by a quotation from Peter
                            Pindar’s Bozzy and Piozzi:— |  “When  his leg by some
                                    misfortune broke,   Says I to Johnson , all by way of joke, Sam, sir, in Paragraph
                                    will soon be clever,   He’ll take off Peter  better now
                                    than ever.”  | 
![]() 
                    
    
    Mathews’s mirthful caricature of Terry’s sober mimicry of Scott was one of the richest extravaganzas of his social hours; but indeed
                        I have often seen this Proteus dramatize the whole
                            Ballantyne group with equal success while Rigdumfunnidos screamed with delight, and Aldiborontiphoscophornio faintly chuckled, and the
                        Sheriff, gently smiling, pushed round his decanters. 
    
    Miss Seward died in March, 1809. She bequeathed her
                        poetry to Scott, with an injunction to publish it
                        speedily, and prefix a sketch of her life; while she made her letters (of which she had
                        kept copies) the property of Mr Constable, in the
                        assurance that due regard for his own interests would forthwith place the whole collection
                        before the admiring world. Scott superintended accordingly the edition of the lady’s verses,
                        which was published in three volumes in August, 1810, by John
                            Ballantyne and Co.; and Constable lost no time in
                        announcing her correspondence, which
                        appeared a year later, in six volumes. The following letter alludes to these productions,
                        as well as a comedy by Mr Henry Siddons, which he
                        had recently brought out on the Edinburgh stage; and lastly, to the Lady of the Lake, the printing of which had by this time made
                        great progress. 
    
    ![]() 
    
      
        | 276 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
    
    ![]() 
    
      To Miss Joanna Baillie.
    
    
      
       “Edinburgh, March 18, 1810. 
      
       “Nothing, my dear Miss
                                        Baillie, can loiter in my hands, when you are commanding
                                    officer. I have put the play
                                    in progress through the press, and find my publishers, the Ballantynes, had previously determined to make
                                        Mr Longman, the proprietor of your
                                    other works, the offer of this. All that can be made of it in such a cause
                                    certainly shall, and the booksellers shall be content with as little profit as
                                    can in reason be expected. I understand the trade well, and will take care of
                                    this. Indeed, I believe the honour weighs more with the booksellers here than
                                    the profit of a single play. So much for business. You are quite right in the
                                    risk I run of failure in a third
                                        poem; yet I think I understand the British public well enough to set
                                    every sail towards the popular breeze. One set of folks pique themselves upon
                                    sailing in the wind’s eye another class drive right before it; now I
                                    would neither do one or t’other, but endeavour to go, as the sailors
                                    express it, upon a wind, and make use of it to carry me my own way, instead of
                                    going precisely in its direction; or, to speak in a dialect with which I am
                                    more familiar, I would endeavour to make my horse carry me, instead of
                                    attempting to carry my horse. I have a vain-glorious presentiment of success
                                    upon this occasion, which may very well deceive me, but which I would hardly
                                    confess to any body but you, nor perhaps to you neither, unless I knew you
                                    would find it out whether I told it you or no,— 
|  “You are a sharp observer, and you look   Quite through the eyes of men.—  | 
![]() 
                                
      
       “I plead guilty to the charge of ill-breeding to
                                        Miss ***. The despair which I used
                                    to feel on receiving poor ![]()
|  | MISS SEWARD’S LETTERS, ETC. | 277 | 
![]() Miss Seward’s
                                    Miss Seward’s letters, whom I
                                    really liked, gave me a most unsentimental horror for sentimental letters. The
                                    crossest thing I ever did in my life was to poor, dear Miss
                                        Seward; she wrote me in an evil hour (I had never seen her, mark
                                    that!) a long and most passionate epistle upon the death of a dear friend, whom
                                    I had never seen neither, concluding with a charge not to attempt answering the
                                    said letter, for she was dead to the world, &c. &c. &c. Never were
                                    commands more literally obeyed. I remained as silent as the grave, till the
                                    lady made so many enquiries after me, that I was afraid of my death being
                                    prematurely announced by a sonnet or an elegy. When I did see her, however, she
                                    interested me very much, and I am now doing penance for my ill-breeding, by
                                    submitting to edite her 
posthumous poetry, most of which is absolutely execrable. This,
                                    however, is the least of my evils, for when she proposed this bequest to me,
                                    which I could not in decency refuse, she combined it with a request that I
                                    would publish her whole 
literary
                                        correspondence. This I declined on principle, having a particular
                                    aversion at perpetuating that sort of gossip; but what availed it? Lo! to
                                    ensure the publication, she left it to an 
Edinburgh
                                        bookseller; and I anticipate the horror of seeing myself
                                    advertised for a live poet like a wild beast on a painted streamer, for I
                                    understand all her friends are depicted therein in body, mind, and manners. So
                                    much for the risks of sentimental correspondence. 
      
       “Siddons’ play was truly flat, but not unprofitable; he
                                    contrived to get it well propped in the acting, and—though it was such a thing
                                    as if you or I had written it (supposing, that is, what in your case, and I
                                    think even in my own, is impossible) would have been damned seventyfold,—yet it
                                    went through with applause. Such is the humour of the multitude; and they will
                                    quarrel with venison for being dressed a day sooner than fashion ![]()
| 278 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]()
 requires, and batten on a neck of mutton, because, on the
                                    whole, it is rather better than they expected; however,
                                        Siddons is a good lad, and deserves success, through
                                    whatever channel it comes. His 
mother is
                                    here just now. I was quite shocked to see her, for the two last years have made
                                    a dreadful inroad both on voice and person; she has, however, a very bad cold.
                                    I hope she will be able to act Jane de
                                        Montfort, which we have long planned. Very truly yours, 
      
W. S.” 
     
    
    
    
    
    Agnes Baillie  (1760-1861)  
                  The daughter of the Scottish cleric James Baillie and elder sister of the poet Joanna
                        Baillie with whom she lived in Hampstead for many decades.
               
 
    Joanna Baillie  (1762-1851)  
                  Scottish poet and dramatist whose 
Plays on the Passions
                        (1798-1812) were much admired, especially the gothic 
De Montfort,
                        produced at Drury Lane in 1800.
               
 
    James Ballantyne  (1772-1833)  
                  Edinburgh printer in partnership with his younger brother John; the company failed in the
                        financial collapse of 1826.
               
 
    John Ballantyne  (1774-1821)  
                  Edinburgh publisher and literary agent for Walter Scott; he was the younger brother of
                        the printer James Ballantyne.
               
 
    Sarah Bartley  [née Williamson]   (1783-1850)  
                  English tragic actress who made her London debut at Covent Garden in 1805; in 1814 she
                        married the actor George Bartley (1782?-1858).
               
 
    Francis Beaumont  (1585-1616)  
                  English playwright, often in collaboration with John Fletcher; author of 
The Knight of the Burning Pestle (1607).
               
 
    
    John Blackburn  (1756-1840)  
                  Glasgow merchant in the West India trade; he was a mutual friend of Walter Scott and
                        George Ellis.
               
 
    James Boaden  (1762-1839)  
                  English playwrite and biographer; he was editor of The Oracle (1789) and published
                        biographies of John Philip Kemble (1825), Sarah Siddons (1827), and Dorothy Jordan
                        (1831).
               
 
    William Pleydell- Bouverie, third earl of Radnor  (1779-1869)  
                  Son of the second earl (d. 1828); educated at Brasenose College, Oxford, he was Whig MP
                        for Downton (1801) and Salisbury (1802-28), and an associate of Sir Francis Burdett and
                        Samuel Whitbread.
               
 
    Hector Macdonald Buchanan of Drumnakiln  (d. 1828)  
                  Of Ross Priory, son of Coll Macdonald of Boisdale; he was Writer to the Signet (1791) and
                        Principal Clerk of Session (1805-1828). He assumed the name of his wife, Jean Buchanan,
                        whom he married in 1793.
               
 
    Sir Francis Burdett, fifth baronet  (1770-1844)  
                  Whig MP for Westminster (1807-1837) who was imprisoned on political charges in 1810 and
                        again in 1820; in the 1830s he voted with the Conservatives.
               
 
    
    George Campbell  (1719-1796)  
                  Principal of Marischal College (1759-92) and professor of divinity (1771-92); he answered
                        David Hume in 
A Dissertation on Miracles (1762).
               
 
    George Canning  (1770-1827)  
                  Tory statesman; he was foreign minister (1807-1809) and prime minister (1827); a
                        supporter of Greek independence and Catholic emancipation.
               
 
    Sir John Carr  (1772-1832)  
                  English travel writer educated at Rugby School who, beginning with 
The
                            Stranger in Paris (1803), published popular volumes on Ireland, Holland, Scotland,
                        and Spain.
               
 
    Arthur Clifford  (1777-1830)  
                  English antiquary and writer educated at the English College at Douai; an associate of
                        Walter Scott, he edited the Sadler Papers (1809) and published 
Tixall
                            Poetry (1813).
               
 
    Samuel Taylor Coleridge  (1772-1834)  
                  English poet and philosopher who projected 
Lyrical Ballads (1798)
                        with William Wordsworth; author of 
Biographia Literaria (1817), 
On the Constitution of the Church and State (1829) and other
                        works.
               
 
    Archibald Campbell Colquhoun  (1754-1820)  
                  Originally Campbell; he was Lord Advocate (1807) and MP for Elgin (1807-10) and
                        Dumbartonshire (1810-20); he was a friend of Walter Scott.
               
 
    Archibald Constable  (1774-1827)  
                  Edinburgh bookseller who published the 
Edinburgh Review and works
                        of Sir Walter Scott; he went bankrupt in 1826.
               
 
    William Coulter  (1760-1810)  
                  Originally a stocking-weaver, he was Lord Provost of Edinburgh (1808-10).
               
 
    John Wilson Croker  (1780-1857)  
                  Secretary of the Admiralty (1810) and writer for the 
Quarterly
                            Review; he edited an elaborate edition of Boswell's 
Life of
                            Johnson (1831).
               
 
    Sir Humphry Davy, baronet  (1778-1829)  
                  English chemist and physicist, inventor of the safety lamp; in Bristol he knew Cottle,
                        Wordsworth, Coleridge, and Southey; he was president of the Royal Society (1820).
               
 
    Thomas Dermody  (1775-1802)  
                  Prolific Irish poet whose early promise a child prodigy went unfulfilled; after the
                        publication of James Grant Raymond's 1806 biography he became a type of the wastrel
                        bard.
               
 
    Lady Frances Douglas  [née Scott]   (1750-1817)  
                  The daughter of Francis Scott, earl of Dalkeith (1721-1750); in 1783 she became the
                        second wife of Archibald, Lord Douglas. She resided at Bothwell Castle and was the friend
                        of Sir Walter Scott and other literati.
               
 
    Lady Lucy Douglas  [née Graham]   (1751-1780)  
                  The daughter of William Graham, second Duke of Montrose; in 1771 she married Archibald
                        James Edward Douglas, first Baron Douglas of Douglas
               
 
    Charles Dumergue  (1768-1852)  
                  Of York Place, Portman Square; he was surgeon-dentist to the royal family and a friend of
                        Sir Walter Scott, who was godfather to one of his children.
               
 
    Henry Dundas, first viscount Melville  (1742-1811)  
                  Scottish politician, president of the board of control (1793-1801), secretary of war
                        (1794-1801); first lord of the Admiralty (1804-05).
               
 
    
    Keith Dunlop  (1772-1858)  
                  The fourth daughter of John Dunlop of Dunlop. She was an acquaintance of Walter Scott.
                        She was the “blooming Keith” of Burns's “New Year's Day” (1790).
               
 
    Maria Edgeworth  (1768-1849)  
                  Irish novelist; author of 
Castle Rackrent (1800) 
Belinda (1801), 
The Absentee (1812) and 
Ormond (1817).
               
 
    Charles Rose Ellis, first baron Seaford  (1771-1845)  
                  English MP; he was the cousin of George Ellis and friend of George Canning, who had him
                        created Lord Seaford in 1826. He had been Canning's second in the 1809 duel with
                        Castlereagh.
               
 
    George Ellis  (1753-1815)  
                  English antiquary and critic, editor of 
Specimens of Early English
                            Poets (1790), friend of Walter Scott.
               
 
    
    Robert Fergusson  (1750-1774)  
                  Scottish poet renowned for his Scots verse first published in the 
Weekly Magazine; he was memorialized by Robert Burns.
               
 
    John Fletcher  (1579-1625)  
                  English playwright, author of 
The Faithful Shepherdess (1610) and
                        of some fifteen plays in collaboration with Francis Beaumont.
               
 
    
    
    William Gifford  (1756-1826)  
                  Poet, scholar, and editor who began as a shoemaker's apprentice; after Oxford he
                        published 
The Baviad (1794), 
The Maeviad
                        (1795), and 
The Satires of Juvenal translated (1802) before becoming
                        the founding editor of the 
Quarterly Review (1809-24).
               
 
    James Graham, third duke of Montrose  (1755-1836)  
                  Son of the second duke whom he succeeded in 1790; he was educated at Trinity College,
                        Cambridge and was MP for Richmond (1780-84) and Great Bedwin (1784-90) and was lord justice
                        general for Scotland from 1795.
               
 
    William Wyndham Grenville, baron Grenville  (1759-1834)  
                  Educated at Eton and Christ Church, Oxford, he was a moderate Whig MP, foreign secretary
                        (1791-1801), and leader and first lord of the treasury in the “All the Talents” ministry
                        (1806-1807). He was chancellor of Oxford University (1810).
               
 
    Charles Grey, second earl Grey  (1764-1845)  
                  Whig statesman and lover of the Duchess of Devonshire; the second son of the first earl
                        (d. 1807), he was prime minister (1831-34).
               
 
    Anne Jane Hamilton, marchioness of Abercorn  [née Gore]   (1763-1827)  
                  Daughter of the earl of Arran; in 1783 she married Henry Hatton (d. 1793), in 1800 John
                        James Hamilton, first marquess of Hamilton. She entertained literary figures at her villa
                        at Stanmore, among them Lady Morgan.
               
 
    
    Margaret Hodson  [née Holford]   (1778-1852)  
                  English poet popular in the interval between Anna Seward and Felicia Hemans; she
                        published 
Wallace, or, The Fight of Falkirk (1809) and 
Margaret of Anjou (1816). She married Septimus Hodson in
                        1826.
               
 
    George Home of Wedderburn and Paxton  (1734-1820)  
                  The son of Alexander Home of Sardenfield; he was Writer to the Signet (1763) and the
                        Principal Clerk of Session (1781-1812) Walter Scott replaced.
               
 
    William Howley, archbishop of Canterbury  (1766-1848)  
                  Educated at Winchester and New College, Oxford, he was regius professor of Divinity
                        (1809-13), bishop of London (1813-28), and archbishop of Canterbury (1828-48).
               
 
    Francis Jeffrey, Lord Jeffrey  (1773-1850)  
                  Scottish barrister, Whig MP, and co-founder and editor of the 
Edinburgh
                            Review (1802-29). As a reviewer he was the implacable foe of the Lake School of
                        poetry.
               
 
    
    Samuel Johnson  (1709-1784)  
                  English man of letters, among many other works he edited 
A Dictionary
                            of the English Language (1755) and Shakespeare (1765), and wrote 
Lives of the Poets (1779-81).
               
 
    John Philip Kemble  (1757-1823)  
                  English actor renowned for his Shakespearean roles; he was manager of Drury Lane
                        (1783-1802) and Covent Garden (1803-1808).
               
 
    William Laidlaw  (1779-1845)  
                  The early friend of James Hogg and Sir Walter Scott's steward and amanuensis.
               
 
    
    Thomas Norton Longman  (1771-1842)  
                  A leading London publisher whose authors included Southey, Wordsworth, Scott, and
                        Moore.
               
 
    James M'Beith  (1818 fl.)  
                  Walter Scott's servant, who became insane in 1818.
               
 
    
    Henry Mackenzie  (1745-1831)  
                  Scottish man of letters, author of 
The Man of Feeling (1770) and
                        editor of 
The Mirror (1779-80) and 
The
                            Lounger (1785-87).
               
 
    James Macpherson  (1736-1796)  
                  Scottish poet who attributed his adaptations of Gaelic poetry to the blind bard Ossian;
                        author of the prose epics 
Fingal (1761) and 
Temora (1763).
               
 
    Alexander Manners  (d. 1825)  
                  Edinburgh bookseller in partnership with Robert Miller from 1794 to 1825. He was an
                        acquaintance of Walter Scott.
               
 
    Queen Mary of Scotland  (1542-1587)  
                  The controversial queen of Scotland (1561-1567) who found a number of champions in the
                        romantic era; Sir Walter Scott treats her sympathetically in 
The
                            Abbott (1820).
               
 
    Charles Mathews  (1776-1835)  
                  Comic actor at the Haymarket and Covent Garden theaters; from 1818 he gave a series of
                        performances under the title of 
Mr. Mathews at Home.
               
 
    William Richard Beckford Miller  (1769-1844)  
                  Albemarle-Street bookseller; he began publishing in 1790; shortly after he rejected
                        Byron's 
Childe Harold in 1811 his stock and premises were purchased
                        by John Murray.
               
 
    Sir John Moore  (1761-1809)  
                  A hero of the Peninsular Campaign, killed at the Battle of Corunna; he was the son of Dr.
                        John Moore, the author of 
Zeluco.
               
 
    
    John Murray II  (1778-1843)  
                  The second John Murray began the 
Quarterly Review in 1809 and
                        published works by Scott, Byron, Austen, Crabbe, and other literary notables.
               
 
    Emperor Napoleon I  (1769-1821)  
                  Military leader, First Consul (1799), and Emperor of the French (1804), after his
                        abdication he was exiled to Elba (1814); after his defeat at Waterloo he was exiled to St.
                        Helena (1815).
               
 
    Samuel Parr  (1747-1825)  
                  English schoolmaster, scholar, and book collector whose strident politics and assertive
                        personality involved him in a long series of quarrels.
               
 
    James Paull  (1778-1808)  
                  East India trader who was MP for Newtown (1805) and twice stood unsuccessfully for
                        Westminster; he died a suicide.
               
 
    Spencer Perceval  (1762-1812)  
                  English statesman; chancellor of the exchequer (1807), succeeded the Duke of Portland as
                        prime minister (1809); he was assassinated in the House of Commons.
               
 
    William Pitt the younger  (1759-1806)  
                  The second son of William Pitt, earl of Chatham (1708-1778); he was Tory prime minister
                        1783-1801.
               
 
    Sir Ralph Sadler  (1507-1587)  
                  English diplomat in the service of Thomas Cromwell; he was afterwards one of the
                        commissioners treating with Mary Queen of Scots.
               
 
    Scipio Africanus  (236 BC-183 BC)  
                  He defeated Hannibal in the Second Punic War at the battle of Zama.
               
 
    
    Daniel Scott  (1776 c.-1806)  
                  The dissolute younger brother of Sir Walter Scott who emigrated to Jamaica in
                        1804.
               
 
    John Scott  (1769-1816)  
                  Walter Scott's elder brother who served in the 73rd Regiment before retiring to Edinburgh
                        in 1810.
               
 
    
    
    Sir Walter Scott, second baronet  (1801-1847)  
                  The elder son and heir of Sir Walter Scott; he was cornet in the 18th Hussars (1816),
                        captain (1825), lieut.-col. (1839). In the words of Maria Edgeworth, he was
                        “excessively shy, very handsome, not at all literary.”
               
 
    William Scott  (1800 c.-1869)  
                  The illegitimate child of Daniel Scott and Carrie Lamb, supported by his uncle Sir Walter
                        Scott; he emigrated to Canada in 1828.
               
 
    Anna Seward [the Swan of Lichfield]   (1742-1809)  
                  English poet, patron, and letter-writer; she was the center of a literary circle at
                        Lichfield. Her 
Poetical Works, 3 vols (1810) were edited by Walter
                        Scott.
               
 
    
    Henry Siddons  (1774-1815)  
                  English actor and playwright, the son of the actress Sarah Siddons; with the assistance
                        of Walter Scott he obtained patent of the Edinburgh Theatre Royal in 1809.
               
 
    Sarah Siddons  [née Kemble]   (1755-1831)  
                  English tragic actress, sister of John Philip Kemble, famous roles as Desdemona, Lady
                        Macbeth, and Ophelia. She retired from the stage in 1812.
               
 
    James Skene of Rubislaw  (1775-1864)  
                  A life-long friend of Sir Walter Scott, who dedicated a canto of 
Marmion to him.
               
 
    Tobias Smollett  (1721-1771)  
                  Scottish physician and man of letters; author of the novels 
Roderick
                            Random (1747) and 
Humphry Clinker (1771).
               
 
    William Sotheby  (1757-1833)  
                  English man of letters; after Harrow he joined the dragoons, married well, and published
                            
Poems (1790) and became a prolific poet and translator,
                        prominent in literary society.
               
 
    Robert Southey  (1774-1843)  
                  Poet laureate and man of letters whose contemporary reputation depended upon his prose
                        works, among them the 
Life of Nelson, 2 vols (1813), 
History of the Peninsular War, 3 vols (1823-32) and 
The Doctor, 7 vols (1834-47).
               
 
    Andrew Stewart  (1786 c.-1809 fl.)  
                  Edinburgh tailor and poet convicted with his brother Robert and one other of robbing
                        Peter More, calico glazer in Edinburgh. Walter Scott arranged for his sentence to be
                        reduced to transportation.
               
 
    
    Lady Louisa Stuart  (1757-1851)  
                  The youngest child of John Stuart, third earl of Bute; she corresponded with Sir Walter
                        Scott. Several volumes of her writings and memoirs were published after her death.
               
 
    Daniel Terry  (1789-1829)  
                  English actor; after a career in provincial theater made his London debut in 1812. A
                        close friend of Walter Scott, he performed in theatrical adaptations of Scott's
                        novels.
               
 
    George Tierney  (1761-1830)  
                  Whig MP and opposition leader whose political pragmatism made him suspect in the eyes of
                        his party; he fought a bloodless duel with Pitt in 1798. He is the “Friend of Humanity” in
                        Canning and Frere's “The Needy Knife-Grinder.”
               
 
    Nicholas Walton  (1734 c.-1810)  
                  Of Newcastle; one of the receivers of the revenue of Greenwich Hospital. In 1809 Robert
                        Southey considering applying for his office.
               
 
    Gwyllym Lloyd Wardle  (1762-1833)  
                  Military officer and MP for Okehampton (1807-1811); with the assistance of the courtesan
                        Mary Anne Clarke he forced the resignation of the Duke of York as commander-in-chief. She
                        later turned on Wardle, who retired to Italy where he died.
               
 
    
    Richard Wellesley, first marquess Wellesley  (1760-1842)  
                  The son of Garret Wesley (1735-1781) and elder brother of the Duke of Wellington; he was
                        Whig MP, Governor-general of Bengal (1797-1805), Foreign Secretary (1809-12), and
                        Lord-lieutenant of Ireland (1821-28); he was created Marquess Wellesley in 1799.
               
 
    John Wolcot [Peter Pindar]   (1738-1819)  
                  English satirist who made his reputation by ridiculing the Royal Academicians and the
                        royal family.
               
 
    Charles Mayne Young  (1777-1856)  
                  English Shakespearean actor who began his professional career in 1798; he was admired in
                            
Hamlet. He was a friend of Sir Walter Scott.
               
 
    
                  Edinburgh Evening Courant.    (1718-). An Edinburgh newspaper originally published thrice weekly; it was edited by George Houy
                        (1826-27) and David Buchanan (1827-48).
 
    
    
    
                  The Quarterly Review.    (1809-1967). Published by John Murray, the 
Quarterly was instigated by Walter
                        Scott as a Tory rival to the 
Edinburgh Review. It was edited by
                        William Gifford to 1824, and by John Gibson Lockhart from 1826 to 1853.
 
    
                  The Scots Magazine.    65 vols   (1739-1803). Continued as 
The Scots Magazine and Edinburgh Literary Miscellany
                        (1804-17) and 
The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany
                        (1817-26).