| [ 277 ] |
The next entry in the Diary is as follows:—
“From Saturday 16th April, to Sunday 24th of the same month, unpleasantly occupied by ill health and its consequences. A distinct stroke of paralysis affecting both my nerves and speech, though beginning only on Monday with a very bad cold. Doctor Abercromby was brought out by the friendly care of Cadell, but young Clarkson had already done the needful, that is, had bled and blistered, and placed me on a very reduced diet. Whether precautions have been taken in time, I cannot tell. I think they have, though severe in themselves, beat the disease; but I am alike prepared.”
The preceding paragraph has been deciphered with difficulty. The blow
which it records was greatly more severe than any that had gone before it. Sir
Walter’s friend Lord Meadowbank
had come to Abbotsford, as usual when on the Jedburgh circuit; and he would
| 278 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Shortly afterwards his eldest son and his daughter Sophia arrived at Abbotsford. It may be supposed that they would both have been near him instantly, had that been possible; but, not to mention the dread of seeming to be alarmed about him. Major Scott’s regiment was stationed in a very disturbed district, and his sister was still in a disabled state from the relics of a rheumatic fever. I followed her a week later, when we established ourselves at Chiefswood for the rest of the season. Charles Scott had some months before this time gone to Naples, as an attaché to the British Embassy there. During the next six months the Major was at Abbotsford every now and then as often as circumstances could permit him to be absent from his Hussars.
Diary,—“April 27, 1831.—They
have cut me off from animal food and fermented liquors of every kind; and, thank God, I
can fast with any one. I walked out and found the day delightful; the woods too looking
charming, just bursting forth to the tune of the birds. I have been whistling on my
wits like so many chickens, and cannot miss any of them. I feel on the whole better
than I have yet done. I believe I have fined and recovered, and so may be thankful.—April 28, 29.—Walter made
his appearance here, well and stout, and
| MAY, 1831. | 279 |
‘Both chain pumps are choked below;’ |
“May 5.—A fleece of letters, which must
be answered I suppose,—all from persons my zealous admirers of course, and expecting a
degree of generosity, which will put to rights all their maladies, physical and mental,
| 280 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“May 6, 7, 8.—Here is a precious job. I
have a formal remonstrance from these critical people, Ballantyne and Cadell, against
the last volume of Count Robert, which is
within a sheet of being finished. I suspect their opinion will be found to coincide
with that of the public; at least it is not very different from my own. The blow is a
stunning one I suppose, for I scarcely feel it. It is singular, but it comes with as
little surprise as if I had a remedy ready, yet, God knows, I am at sea in the dark,
and the vessel leaky, I think, into the bargain. I cannot conceive that I should have
tied a knot with my tongue which my teeth cannot untie. We shall see.—I have suffered
terribly, that is the truth, rather in body than in mind, and I often wish I could lie
down and sleep without waking. But I will fight it out if I can. It would argue too
great an attachment of consequence to my literary labours to sink under critical
clamour. Did I know how to begin, I would begin again this very day, although I knew I
should sink at the end. After all, this is but fear and faintness of heart, though of
another kind from that which trembleth at a loaded
| MAY, 1831. | 281 |
On my arrival (May 10th), I found Sir Walter to have rallied considerably; yet his appearance, as I first saw him, was the most painful sight I had ever then seen. Knowing at what time I might be expected, he had been lifted on his pony, and advanced about half a mile on the Selkirk road to meet me. He moved at a footpace, with Laidlaw at one stirrup, and his forester Swanston (a fine fellow, who did all he could to replace Tom Purdie) at the other. Abreast was old Peter Mathieson on horseback, with one of my children astride before him on a pillion. Sir Walter had had his head shaved, and wore a black silk night-cap under his blue bonnet. All his garments hung loose about him; his countenance was thin and haggard, and there was an obvious distortion in the muscles of one cheek. His look, however, was placid—his eye as bright as ever—perhaps brighter than it ever was in health; he smiled with the same affectionate gentleness, and though at first it was not easy to understand every thing he said, he spoke cheerfully and manfully.
He had resumed, and was trying to recast, his novel. All the medical men had urged him, by every argument, to abstain from any such attempts; but he smiled on them in silence, or answered with some jocular rhyme. One note has this postscript a parody on a sweet lyric of Burns’s—
“Dour, dour, and eident was he, Dour and eident but-and-ben— Dour against their barley-water, And eident on the Bramah pen.” |
| 282 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“’Tis not in mortals to command success, But we’ll do more, Sempronius,
we’ll deserve it.”* |
To assist them in amusing him in the hours which he spent out of his study, and especially that he might be tempted to make those hours more frequent, his daughters had invited his friend the authoress of Marriage to come out to Abbotsford; and her coming was serviceable. For she knew and loved him well, and she had seen enough of affliction akin to his, to be well skilled in dealing with it. She could not be an hour in his company without observing what filled his children with more sorrow than all the rest of the case. He would begin a story as gaily as ever, and go on, in spite of the hesitation in his speech, to tell it with highly picturesque effect—but before he reached the point, it would seem
| MAY, 1831. | 283 |
He had also a visit from the learned and pious Dr M. Mackay, then minister of Laggan, but now of Dunoon—the chief author of the Gaelic Dictionary, then recently published under the auspices of the Highland Society; and this gentleman also accommodated himself, with the tact of genuine kindness, to the circumstances of the time.
In the family circle Sir Walter
seldom spoke of his illness at all, and when he did it was always in the hopeful strain. In
private to Laidlaw and myself, his language
corresponded exactly with the tone of the Diary—he expressed his belief that the chances of
recovery were few—very few—but always added, that he considered it his duty to exert what
faculties remained to him, for the sake of his creditors, to the very last. “I am
very anxious,” he repeatedly said to me, “to be done, one way or
other, with this Count Robert, and a
little story about the Castle Dangerous,
which also I had long had in my head—but after that I will attempt nothing more—at
least not until I have finished all the notes for the Novels, &c.; for, in case of
my going off at the next
| 284 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
I felt the sincerest pity for Cadell and Ballantyne at this time; and advised him to lay Count Robert aside for a few weeks, at all events, until the general election now going on should be over. He consented but immediately began another series of Tales on French History—which he never completed. The Diary says:—
“May 12.—Resolved to lay by Robert of Paris, and take it up when I can work. Thinking on it really makes my head swim, and that is not safe. Miss Ferrier comes out to us. This gifted personage, besides having great talents, has conversation the least exigeante of any author, female at least, whom I have ever seen among the long list I have encountered with; simple, full of humour, and exceedingly ready at repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the blue stocking.
“May 13.—Mr, or more properly, Dr Macintosh Mackay comes out to see me, a simple learned man, and a Highlander who weighs his own nation justly—a modest and estimable person. Reports of mobs at all the elections, which I fear will prove true. They have much to answer for who, in gaiety of heart, have brought a peaceful and virtuous population to such a pass.
“May 14.—Rode with Lockhart and Mr
Mackay through the plantations, and spent a pleasanter day than of late
months. Story of a haunted glen in Laggan. A chieftain’s daughter or cousin loved
a man of low degree. Her kindred discovered the intrigue, and punished the
lover’s presumption by binding the unhappy man, and laying him naked in one of
the large owl’s nests common in
| MAY, 1831. | 285 |
On the 18th, I witnessed a scene which must dwell painfully upon many
memories besides mine. The rumours of brick-bat and bludgeon work at the hustings of this
month were so prevalent, that Sir Walter’s family,
and not less zealously the Tory candidate for Roxburghshire himself, tried every means to
dissuade him from attending the election for that county. We thought over night that we had
succeeded, and, indeed, as the result of the vote was not at all doubtful, there was not
the shadow of a reason for his appearing on this occasion. About seven in the morning,
however, when I came down stairs intending to ride over to Jedburgh, I found he had
countermanded my horse, ordered the carriage to the door,
| 286 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
| MAY, 1831. | 287 |
The Diary contains this brief notice:—“May 18.—Went to Jedburgh greatly against the wishes of my daughters. The mob were exceedingly vociferous and brutal, as they usually are nowadays. The population gathered in formidable numbers—a thousand from Hawick also—sad blackguards. The day passed with much clamour and no mischief. Henry Scott was re-elected for the last time, I suppose. Troja fuit. I left the borough in the midst of abuse, and the gentle hint of Burk Sir Walter. Much obliged to the brave lads of Jeddart.”
Sir Walter fully anticipated a scene of similar violence
at the Selkirk election, which occurred a few days afterwards; but though here also, by
help of weavers from a distance, there was a sufficiently formidable display of radical
power, there occurred hardly any thing of what had been apprehended. Here the Sheriff was
at home—known intimately to every body, himself probably knowing almost all of man’s
estate by head mark, and, in spite of political fanaticism, all but universally beloved as
well as feared. The only person who ventured actually to hustle a Tory elector on his way
to the poll, attracted Scott’s observation at the moment when he
was getting out of his carriage; he instantly seized the delinquent with his own hand—the
man’s spirit quailed, and no one coming to the rescue, he was safely committed to
prison until the business of the day was over. Sir Walter had
ex officio to preside at this election,
and, therefore, his family would probably have made no attempt to dissuade him from
attending it, even had he staid away from Jedburgh. Among the exaggerated rumours of the
time, was one that Lord William
| 288 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Non aliter cineres mando
jacere meos.”* |
I am well pleased that the ancient capital of the Forest did not stain its fair name upon this miserable occasion; and I am sorry for Jedburgh and Hawick. This last town stands almost within sight of Branksome Hall, overhanging also sweet Teviot’s silver tide. The civilized American or Australian will curse these places, of which he would never have heard but for Scott, as he passes through them in some distant century, when perhaps all that remains of our national glories may be the high literature adopted and extended in new lands planted from our blood.
No doubt these disturbances of the general election had an unfavourable influence on the invalid. When they were over, he grew calmer and more collected; the surgical experiment appeared to be beneficial; his speech became, after a little time, much clearer, and such were the symptoms of energy still about him, that I began to think a restoration not hopeless. Some business called me to London about the middle of June, and when I returned at the end of three weeks, I had the satisfaction to find that he had been gradually amending.
|
* Martial i. 89. |
| JULY, 1831. | 289 |
But, alas, the first use he made of this partial renovation, had been to expose his brain once more to an imaginative task. He began his Castle Dangerous—the ground-work being again an old story which he had told in print, many years before, in a rapid manner. And now, for the first time, he left Ballantyne out of his secret. He thus writes to Cadell on the 3d of July:—“I intend to tell this little matter to nobody but Lockhart. Perhaps not even to him; certainly not to J. B., who having turned his back on his old political friends, will no longer have a claim to be a secretary in such matters, though I shall always be glad to befriend him.”
James’s criticisms on Count Robert had wounded
him—the Diary, already quoted, shows how severely. The last visit this old ally ever paid
at Abbotsford, occurred a week or two after. His newspaper had by this time espoused openly
the cause of the Reform Bill and some unpleasant conversation took place on that subject,
which might well be a sore one for both parties, and not least, considering the whole of
his personal history, for Mr Ballantyne. Next morning, being Sunday,
he disappeared abruptly, without saying farewell; and when Scott understood that he had signified an opinion that the reading of the
church service, with a sermon from South or
Barrow, would be a poor substitute for the
mystical eloquence of some new idol down the vale, he expressed considerable disgust. They
never met again in this world. In truth, Ballantyne’s health
also was already much broken; and if Scott had been entirely himself,
he would not have failed to connect that circumstance in a charitable way with this never
strong-minded man’s recent abandonment of his own old terra firma, both religious and political. But this is a subject on
which we have no title to dwell. Sir Walter’s misgivings
| 290 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
When I again saw him on the 13th of this month, he showed me several sheets of the new romance, and told me how he had designed at first to have it printed by somebody else than Ballantyne, but that on reflection, he had shrunk from hurting his feelings on so tender a point. I found, however, that he had neither invited nor received any opinion from James as to what he had written, but that he had taken an alarm lest he should fall into some blunder about the scenery fixed on (which he had never seen but once when a schoolboy), and had kept the sheets in proof until I should come back and accompany him in a short excursion to Lanarkshire. He was anxious in particular to see the tombs in the Church of St Bride, adjoining the site of his “Castle Dangerous,” of which Mr Blore had shown him drawings; and he hoped to pick up some of the minute traditions, in which he had always delighted, among the inhabitants of Douglasdale.
We set out early on the 18th, and ascended the Tweed, passing in
succession Yair, Ashestiel, Innerleithing, Traquair, and many more scenes dear to his early
life, and celebrated in his writings. The morning was still, but gloomy, and at length we
had some thunder. It seemed to excite him vividly, and on coming soon afterwards within
view of that remarkable edifice (Drochel Castle) on the moorland ridge between Tweed and
Clyde, which was begun, but never finished, by the Regent
Morton—a gigantic ruin typical of his ambition—Sir
Walter could hardly be restrained from making some effort to reach it.
Morton, too, was a Douglas, and that name was
at present his charm of charms. We
| JULY, 1831. | 291 |
Another symptom that distressed me during this journey was, that he seemed constantly to be setting tasks to his memory. It was not as of old, when if any one quoted a verse, he, from the fulness of his heart, could not help repeating the context. He was obviously in fear that this prodigious engine had lost, or was losing its tenacity, and taking every occasion to rub and stretch it. He sometimes failed, and gave it up with miseria cogitandi in his eye. At other times he succeeded to admiration, and smiled as he closed his recital. About a mile beyond Biggar, we overtook a parcel of carters, one of whom was maltreating his horse, and Sir Walter called to him from the carriage-window in great indignation. The man looked and spoke insolently; and as we drove on, he used some strong expressions about what he would have done had this happened within the bounds of his sheriffship. As he continued moved in an uncommon degree, I said jokingly, that I wondered his porridge diet had left his blood so warm, and quoted Prior’s
“Was ever Tartar fierce or cruel Upon a mess of water-gruel?” |
| 292 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Yet who shall stand the Sheriff’s force, If Selkirk carter beats his
horse?”* |
|
“Whate’er thy countrymen have done,
By law and wit, by sword and gun,
In thee is faithfully recited;
And all the living world that view
Thy works, give thee the praises due—
At once instructed and delighted.
|
|
“Yet for the fame of all these deeds,
What beggar in the Invalides,
With lameness broke, with blindness smitten,
Wished ever decently to die,
To have been either Mezeray
Or any monarch he has written?
|
|
| JULY, 1831. | 293 |
|
“’Tis strange, dear author, yet it true is,
That down from Pharamond to Louis
All covet life, yet call it pain,
And feel the ill, yet shun the cure.
Can sense this paradox endure?
|
|
“The man in graver tragic known,
Though his best part long since was done,
Still on the stage desires to tarry.
And he who play’d the harlequin,
After the jest, still loads the scene,
Unwilling to retire, though weary.”
|
We spent the night at the Inn of Douglas Mill, and at an early hour
next morning proceeded to inspect, under the care of one of Lord
Douglas’s tenants, Mr Haddow, the Castle, the
strange old bourg, the Church, long since deserted as a place of worship, and the very
extraordinary monuments of the most heroic and powerful family in the annals of Scotland.
That works of sculpture equal to any of the fourteenth century in Westminster Abbey (for
such they certainly were, though much mutilated, by Cromwell’s soldiery) should be found in so remote an inland place,
attests strikingly the boundless resources of those haughty lords, “whose
coronet,” as Scott says, “so
often counterpoised the crown.” The effigy of the best friend of Bruce is among the number, and represents him cross-legged, as
having fallen in battle with the Saracen, when on his way to Jerusalem with the heart of
his king. The whole people of the barony gathered round the doors, and two persons of
extreme old age, one so old that he well remembered Duke Willie—that is to say, the Conqueror of
Culloden—were introduced to tell all their local legends, while Sir
Walter examined by torchlight these silent witnesses of past greatness. It
was a strange and a
| 294 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“The bloody heart blazed in the van, Announcing Douglas’ dreaded name.” |
| JULY, 1831. | 295 |
It was again a darkish cloudy day, with some occasional mutterings of distant thunder, and perhaps the state of the atmosphere told upon Sir Walter’s nerves; but I had never before seen him so sensitive as he was all the morning after this inspection of Douglas. As we drove over the high table-land of Lesmahago, he repeated I know not how many verses from Winton, Barbour, and Blind Harry, with, I believe, almost every stanza of Dunbar’s elegy on the Deaths of the Makers (poets). It was now that I saw him, such as he paints himself in one or two passages of his Diary, but such as his companions in the meridian vigour of his life never saw him “the rushing of a brook, or the sighing of the sighing of the summer breeze bringing the tears into his eyes not unpleasantly.” Bodily weakness laid the delicacy of the organization bare, over which he had prided himself in wearing a sort of half stoical mask. High and exalted feelings, indeed, he had never been able to keep concealed, but he had shrunk from exhibiting to human eye the softer and gentler emotions which now trembled to the surface. He strove against it even now, and presently came back from the Lament of the Makers to his Douglasses, and chanted, rather than repeated, in a sort of deep and glowing, though not distinct recitative, his first favourite among all the ballads,—
“It was about the Lammas tide, When husbandmen do win their hay, That the Doughty Douglas bownde him to ride To England to drive a prey.”— |
| 296 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“My wound is deep—I fain would sleep Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me beneath the bracken bush, That grows on yonder lily lee. . . . This deed was done at the Otterburne, About the dawning of the day. Earl Douglas was buried by the brackenbush, And the Percy led captive away.”
|
We reached Milton-Lockhart some time before the dinner-hour, and
Sir Walter appeared among the friends who received
him there with much of his old graceful composure of courtesy. He walked about a little—was
pleased with the progress made in the new house, and especially commended my brother for having given his bridge “ribs
like Bothwell.” Greenshields
was at hand, and he talked to him cheerfully, while the sculptor devoured his features, as
under a solemn sense that they were before his eyes for the last time. My brother had taken
care to have no company at dinner except two or three near neighbours with whom
Sir Walter had been familiar through life, and whose entreaties it
had been impossible to resist. One of these was the late Mr
Elliott Lockhart of Cleghorn and Borthwickbrae—long member of Parliament for
Selkirkshire—the same whose anti-reform address had been preferred to the Sheriff’s
by the freeholders of that county in the preceding March. But, alas! very soon after that
address was accepted, Borthwickbrae (so Scott
always called him from his estate in the Forest) had a shock of paralysis as severe as any
his old friend had as yet sustained. He, too, had rallied beyond expectation, and his
family were more hopeful, perhaps, than the other’s dared to be. Sir
Walter and he had not met for a few years—not since
| DOUGLAS—JULY, 1831. | 297 |
At night Scott promised to visit Cleghorn on his way home, but next morning, at breakfast, came a messenger to inform us that Borthwickbrae, on returning to his own house, fell down in another fit, and was now despaired of. Immediately, although he had intended to remain two days, Sir Walter drew my brother aside, and besought him to lend him horses as far as Lanark, for that he must set off with the least possible delay. He would listen to no persuasions. “No, William,” he said, “this is a sad warning. I must home to work while it is called day; for the night cometh when no man can work. I put that text, many a year ago, on my dial-stone; but it often preached in vain.”*
We started accordingly, and making rather a forced march, reached Abbotsford the same night. During the journey, he was more silent than I ever before found him;—he seemed to be wrapped in thought, and was but seldom roused to take notice of any object we passed. The little he said was mostly about Castle Dangerous, which he now seemed to feel sure he could finish in a fortnight, though his observation of the locality must
* This dial-stone, which used to stand in front of the old cottage, and is now in the centre of the garden, is inscribed, ΝΥΞ ΓΑΡ ΕΡΧΕΤΑΙ. |
| 298 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
For two or three weeks he bent himself sedulously to his task—and concluded Castle Dangerous, and the long-suspended Count Robert. By this time he had submitted to the recommendation of all his medical friends, and agreed to spend the coming winter away from Abbotsford, among new scenes, in a more genial climate, and above all (so he promised), in complete abstinence from all literary labour. When Captain Basil Hall understood that he had resolved on wintering at Naples (where, as has been mentioned, his son Charles was attached to the British Legation), it occurred to the zealous sailor that on such an occasion as this all thoughts of political difference ought to be dismissed, and he, unknown to Scott, addressed a letter to Sir James Graham, then First Lord of the Admiralty, stating the condition of his friend’s health, and his proposed plan, and suggesting that it would be a fit and graceful thing for the King’s Government to place a frigate at his disposal for his voyage to the Mediterranean. Sir James replied, honourably for all concerned, that it afforded himself, and his Royal Master, the sincerest satisfaction to comply with this hint; and that whenever Sir Walter found it convenient to come southwards, a vessel should be prepared for his reception. Nothing could be handsomer than the way in which all this matter was arranged, and Scott, deeply gratified, exclaimed that things were yet in the hands of gentlemen; but that he feared they had been undermining the state of society which required such persons as themselves to be at the head.
He had no wish, however, to leave Abbotsford until the approach of
winter; and having dismissed his Tales,
seemed to say to himself that he would enjoy his dear
| AUGUST, 1831. | 299 |
| 300 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“In the autumn of 1831” (says Mr Adolphus) “the new shock which had fallen upon Sir Walter’s constitution had left traces, not indeed very conspicuous, but painfully observable; and he was subject to a constant, though apparently not a very severe regimen as an invalid. At table, if many persons were present, he spoke but little, I believe from a difficulty in making himself heard, not so much because his articulation was slightly impaired, as that his voice was weakened. After dinner, though he still sat with his guests, he forbore drinking, in compliance with the discipline prescribed to him, though he might be seen, once or twice in the course of a sitting, to steal a glass, as if inadvertently. I could not perceive that his faculties of mind were in any respect obscured, except that occasionally (but not very often) he was at a loss for some obvious word. This failure of recollection had begun I think the year before. The remains of his old cheerfulness were still living within him, but they required opportunity and the presence of few persons to disclose themselves. He spoke of his approaching voyage with resignation more than with hope, and I could not find that he looked forward with much interest or curiosity to the new scenes in which he was about to travel.
“The menacing state of affairs in the country he was leaving
oppressed him with melancholy anticipations. In the little conversation we had formerly
had on subjects of this kind, I had never found him a querulous politician; he could
look manfully and philosophically at those changes in the aspect of society which time,
and the progress, well or ill-directed, of the human mind were uncontrollably working
out, though the innovations might not in some of their results accord with his own
tastes and opinions. But the revolutions now beginning, and the violence of word and
| AUGUST, 1831. | 301 |
“On the last day which I had the happiness to pass with him among his own hills and streams, he appointed an excursion to Oakwood* and the Linns of Ettrick. Miss Scott, and two other ladies, one of whom had not been in Scotland before, were of the party. He did the honours of the country with as much zeal and gallantry, in spirit at least, as he could have shown twenty years earlier. I recollect, that, in setting out, he attempted to plead his hardy habits as an old mail-coach traveller for keeping the least convenient place in the carriage. When we came to the Linns, we walked some way up the stream, and viewed the bold and romantic little torrent from the top of the high bank. He stood contemplating it in an attitude of rest; the day was past when a minute’s active exertion would have carried him to the water’s brink. Perhaps he was now for the last time literally fulfilling the wish of his own Minstrel, that in the decay of life he might
‘Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break.’
|
* Oakwood is a ruined castle on the Harden estate in the vale of Ettrick. |
| 302 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
I am not sure whether the Royal Academician, Turner, was at Abbotsford at the time of Mr Adolphus’s last visit; but several little excursions, such as the one here described, were made in the company of this great artist, who had come to Scotland for the purpose of making drawings to illustrate the scenery of Sir Walter’s poems. On several such occasions I was of the party—and one day deserves to be specially remembered. Sir Walter took Mr Turner that morning, with his friend Skene and myself, to Smailholm Crags; and it was while lounging about them, while the painter did his sketch, that he told Mr Skene how the habit of lying on the turf there among the sheep and lambs, when a lame infant, had given his mind a peculiar tenderness for those animals which it had ever since retained.* He seemed to enjoy the scene of his childhood—yet there was many a touch of sadness both in his eye and his voice. He then carried us to Dryburgh, but excused himself from attending Mr Turner into the inclosure. Mr Skene and I perceived that it would be better for us to leave him alone, and we both accompanied Tur-
See Ante, vol. i., p. 83. |
| SEPTEMBER, 1831. | 303 |
“Betide, betide, whate’er betide, There shall be Haigs in Bemerside.”
|
Mr Turner’s sketch of this picturesque Peel, and its “brotherhood of venerable trees,” is probably familiar to most of my readers.*
Mr Cadell brought the artist to Abbotsford, and was also I think of this Bemerside party. I must not omit to record how gratefully all Sir Walter’s family felt at the time, and still remember, the delicate and watchful tenderness of Mr Cadell’s conduct on this occasion. He so managed that the Novels just finished should remain in types, but not thrown off, until the author should have departed; so as to give opportunity for revising and abridging them. He might well be the bearer of cheering news as to their greater concerns, for the sale of the Magnum had, in spite of political turbulences and distractions, gone on successfully. But he probably strained a point to make things appear still
* See Scott’s Poetical Works, edition 1833, vol. v. |
| 304 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Very near the end there came some unexpected things to cast a sunset
brilliancy over Abbotsford. His son, the Major,
arrived with tidings that he had obtained leave of absence from his regiment, and should be
in readiness to sail with his father. This was a mighty relief to us all, on Miss Scott’s account as well as his, for my
occupations did not permit me to think of going with him, and there was no other near
connexion at hand. But Sir Walter was delighted indeed,
dearly as he loved all his children, he had a pride in the Major that stood quite by
itself, and the hearty approbation which looked through his eyes whenever turned on him,
sparkled brighter than ever as his own physical strength decayed. Young
Walter had on this occasion sent down a horse or two to winter at
Abbotsford. One was a remarkably tall and handsome animal, jet black all over, and when the
Major appeared on it one morning, equipped for a little sport with the greyhounds,
Sir Walter insisted on being put upon Douce
Davie, and conducted as far as the Cauldshiels
| SEPTEMBER, 1831. | 305 |
He does not seem to have written many farewell letters; but here is one to a very old friend, Mr Kirkpatrick Sharpe. He had, apparently, subscribed for Lodge’s splendid book of British Portraits, and then, receiving a copy ex dono auctoris,* sent his own numbers, as they arrived, to this gentleman—a payment in kind for many courteous gifts and communications of antiquarian and genealogical interest.
“I pray you to honour me with your acceptance of the last number of Mr Lodge’s Illustrious Persons. My best thanks to you for the genealogy, which com-
* Sir Walter’s letter to Mr Lodge’s publisher is now prefixed to that magnificent book; the circulation of which has been, to the honour of the public, so great, that I need not introduce the beautiful eulogium here. |
| 306 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I should like to have shaken hands with you, as there are few I regret so much to part with. But it may not be. I will keep my eyes dry if possible, and therefore content myself with bidding you a long (perhaps an eternal) farewell. But I may find my way home again, improved as a Dutch skipper from a whale fishing. I am very happy that I am like to see Malta. Always yours, well or ill—
The same deceptive notion of his pecuniary affairs comes out in another little note, the last I ever received from him at Chiefswood. I had meant to make a run into Lanarkshire for a day or two to see my own relations, and spoken of carrying my second boy, his namesake, then between five and six years of age, with me in the stage-coach. When I mentioned this over-night at Abbotsford, he said nothing—indeed he was at the moment a little cross with me for having spoken against some slip he had made on the score of his regimen. Shortly after I got home came this billet.
“Can you really be thinking of taking Wa-Waby the coach, and I think you said
outside? Think of Johnny and be careful of this little man. Are you par
| SEPTEMBER, 1831. | 307 |
‘Comment? Parbleu! Qu’en pensez
vous?
Bon Gentilhomme, et pas un sous.’ |
“If so, remember Richard’s himself again, and make free use of the enclosed cheque on Cadell for L.50. He will give you the ready as you pass through, and you can pay when I ask. Put horses to your carriage and go hidalgo fashion. We shall all have good days yet.
|
‘And those sad days you deign to spend
With me, I shall requite them all;
Sir Eustace for his friends shall
send,
And thank their love in Grayling Hall.’
|
On the 17th of September the old splendour of Abbotsford was, after a long interval, and for the last time, revived. Captain James Glencairn Burns, son of the poet, had come home on furlough from India, and Sir Walter invited him (with his wife, and their Cicerone Mr M’Diarmid of Dumfries) to spend a day under his roof. The neighbouring gentry were assembled, and having his son to help him, Sir Walter did most gracefully the honours of the table. As, according to him, “a medal struck at the time, however poor, is in one respect better than any done afterwards,” I insert some verses with which he was pleased, and which, I believe, express the sincere feelings with which every guest witnessed this his parting feast.
|
A day I’ve seen whose brightness pierced the cloud
Of pain and sorrow, both for great and small
|
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* See Crabbe’s Sir Eustace Grey. |
| 308 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
|
A night of flowing cups, and pibrochs loud,
Once more within the Minstrel’s blazon’d hall.
|
|
“Upon this frozen hearth pile crackling trees;
Let every silent clarshach find its strings;
Unfurl once more the banner to the breeze;
No warmer welcome for the blood of kings!”
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From ear to ear, from eye to glistening eye,
Leap the glad tidings, and the glance of glee;
Perish the hopeless breast that beats not high
At thought beneath His roof that guest to see!
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|
What princely stranger comes?—What exiled lord
From the far East to Scotia’s strand returns—
To stir with joy the towers of Abbotsford,
And “wake the Minstrel’s soul?”—The boy of Burns.
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O, Sacred Genius! blessing on the chains,
Wherein thy sympathy can minds entwine!
Beyond the conscious glow of kindred veins,
A power, a spirit, and a charm are thine.
|
|
Thine offspring share them. Thou hast trod the land—
It breathes of thee—and men, through rising tears,
Behold the image of thy manhood stand,
More noble than a galaxy of Peers.
|
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And He—his father’s bones had quaked, I ween,
But that with holier pride his heart-strings bound,
Than if his host had King or Kaiser been,
And star and cross on every bosom round.
|
|
High strains were pour’d of many a Border spear,
While gentle fingers swept a throbbing shell;
A manly voice, in manly notes and clear,
Of lowly love’s deep bliss responded well.
|
|
The children sang the ballads of their sires:—
Serene among them sat the hoary Knight;
And, if dead Bards have ears for earthly lyres,
The Peasant’s shade was near, and drank delight
|
| SEPTEMBER, 1831. | 309 |
|
As through the woods we took our homeward way,
Fair shone the moon last night on Eildon Hill;
Soft rippled Tweed’s broad wave beneath her ray,
And in sweet murmurs gush’d the Huntly rill.
|
|
Heaven send the guardian genius of the vale
Health yet, and strength, and length of honour’d days,
To cheer the world with many a gallant tale,
And hear his children’s children chant his lays.
|
|
Through seas unruffled may the vessel glide,
That bears her Poet far from Melrose’ glen;
And may his pulse be steadfast as our pride,
When happy breezes waft him back again.
|
On the 20th Mrs Lockhart set out for London to prepare for her father’s reception there, and for the outfit of his voyage; and on the following day Mr Wordsworth and his daughter arrived from Westmoreland to take farewell of him. This was a very fortunate circumstance—nothing could have gratified Sir Walter more, or sustained him better, if he needed any support from without. On the 22d, all his arrangements being completed, and Laidlaw having received a paper of instructions, the last article of which repeats the caution to be “very careful of the dogs”—these two great poets, who had through life loved each other well, and in spite of very different theories as to art, appreciated each other’s genius more justly than inferior spirits ever did either of them, spent the morning together in a visit to Newark. Hence the last of the three poems by which Wordsworth has connected his name to all time with the most romantic of Scottish streams. But I need not transcribe a piece so well known as the “Yarrow Revisited.”
Sitting that evening in the library, Sir
Walter said a
| 310 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
The following Sonnet was, no doubt, composed by Mr Wordsworth that same evening of the 22d September.
| SEPTEMBER, 1831. | 311 |
|
“A trouble, not of clouds, or weeping rain,
Nor of the setting sun’s pathetic light
Engendered, hangs o’er Eildon’s triple height:
Spirits of power assembled there complain
For kindred power departing from their sight;
While Tweed, best pleased in chanting a blithe strain,
Saddens his voice again, and yet again.
Lift up your hearts, ye mourners! for the might
Of the whole world’s good wishes with him goes;
Blessings and prayers in nobler retinue
Than sceptred King or laurelled Conqueror knows
Follow this wondrous potentate. Be true,
Ye winds of ocean, and the midland sea,
Wafting your charge to soft Parthenope.”
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