Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
Walter Scott to Joanna Baillie, 23 November 1810
“Edinburgh, Nov. 23, 1810.
“I should not have been so long your debtor, my dear
Miss Baillie, for your kind and
valued letter, had not the false knave, at whose magic touch the Iona pebbles
were to assume a shape in some degree appropriate to the person to whom they
are destined, delayed finishing his task. I hope you will set some value upon
this little trumpery brooch, because it is a harp, and a Scotch harp, and set
with Iona stones. This last circumstance is more valuable, if ancient tales be
true, than can be ascertained from the reports of dull modern lapidaries. These
green stones, blessed of St Columba, have a virtue, saith old Martin, to gratify each of them a single
wish of the wearer. I believe, that which is most frequently formed by those
who gather them upon the shores of the Saint, is for a fair wind to transport
them from his domains. Now, after this, you must ![]()
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suppose every thing respecting this said harp
sacred and hallowed. The very inscription is, you will please to observe, in
the ancient Celtic language and character, and has a very talismanic look. I
hope that upon you it will have the effect of a conjuration, for the words
Buail a’n Teud signify
Strike the String; and thus having, like the pedlars
who deal in like matters of value, exhausted all my eloquence in setting forth
the excellent outward qualities and mysterious virtues of my little keepsake, I
have only to add, in homely phrase, God give you joy to wear it. I am delighted
with the account of your brother’s
silvan empire in Glo’stershire. The planting and cultivation of trees
always seemed to me the most interesting occupation of the country. I cannot
enter into the spirit of common vulgar farming, though I am doomed to carry on,
in a small extent, that losing trade. It never occurred to me to be a bit more
happy because my turnips were better than my neighbours; and as for grieving my shearers, as we very emphatically term it in
Scotland, I am always too happy to get out of the way, that I may hear them
laughing at a distance when on the harvest rigg. ‘So every servant takes his course, And bad at first, they all grow worse’— |
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I mean for the purposes of agriculture,—for my hind shall kill a salmon,
and my plough-boy find a hare sitting, with any man in the forest. But planting
and pruning trees I could work at from morning till night; and if ever my
poetical revenues enable me to have a few acres of my own, that is one of the
principal pleasures I look forward to. There is, too, a sort of
self-congratulation, a little tickling self-flattery in the idea that, while
you are pleasing and amusing yourself, you are seriously contributing to the
future welfare of the country, and ![]()
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that your very acorn
may send its future ribs of oak to future victories like Trafalgar.
“You have now by my calculation abandoned your
extensive domains and returned to your Hampstead villa, which, at this season
of the year, though the lesser, will prove, from your neighbourhood to good
society, the more comfortable habitation of the two. Dr Baillie’s cares are transferred (I
fear for some time) to a charge still more important than the poor Princess.* I trust in God that his skill
and that of his brethren may be of advantage to the poor King; for a Regency, from its unsettled and
uncertain tenure, must in every country, but especially where parties run so
high, be a lamentable business. I wonder that the consequences which have taken
place had not occurred sooner, during the long and trying suspense in which his
mind must have been held by the protracted lingering state of a beloved child.
“Your country neighbours interest me excessively. I
was delighted with the man, who remembered me, though he had forgotten
Sancho Panza; but I am afraid my
pre-eminence in his memory will not remain much longer than the worthy
squire’s government at Barataria. Mean while, the Lady of the Lake is likely to come to preferment
in an unexpected manner, for two persons of no less eminence than Messrs
Martin and Reynolds, play carpenters in ordinary to
Covent Garden, are employed in scrubbing, careening, and cutting her down into
one of those new-fashioned sloops called a melo-drama, to be launched at the
theatre; and my friend, Mr H. Siddons,
emulous of such a noble design, is at work on the same job here. It puts me in
mind of
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the observation with which
our parish smith accompanied his answer to an enquiry whom he had heard preach
on Sunday. ‘Mr such-a-one—O! sir, he made neat
work,’ thinking, doubtless, of turning off a horse-shoe
handsomely. I think my worthy artizans will make neat work too before they have
done with my unlucky materials—but, as Durandarte says in the cavern of Montesinos ‘Patience,
cousin, and shuffle the cards.’ Jeffrey was the author of the critique in the Edinburgh; he sent it to me in the sheet, with an
apology for some things in that of Marmion which he said contained needless asperities; and, indeed,
whatever I may think of the justice of some part of his criticism, I think his
general tone is much softened in my behalf.
“You say nothing about the drama on Fear, for which you have chosen so
admirable a subject, and which, I think, will be in your own most powerful
manner, I hope you will have an eye to its being actually represented. Perhaps
of all passions it is the most universally interesting; for although most part
of an audience may have been in love once in their lives, and many engaged in
the pursuits of ambition, and some perhaps have fostered deadly hate; yet there
will always be many in each case who cannot judge of the operations of these
motives from personal experience: Whereas, I will bet my life there is not a
soul of them but has felt the impulse of fear, were it but, as the old tale
goes, at snuffing a candle with his fingers. I believe I should have been able
to communicate some personal anecdotes on the subject, had I been enabled to
accomplish a plan I have had much at heart this summer, namely, to take a peep
at Lord Wellington and his merry men in
Portugal; but I found the idea gave Mrs
Scott more distress than I am entitled to do for the mere
gratification of my own curiosity. Not that there would have been ![]()
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any great danger,—for I could easily, as a non-combatant,
have kept out of the way of the “grinning
honour” of my namesake, Sir Walter
Blount, and I think I should have been overpaid for a little
hardship and risk by the novelty of the scene. I could have got very good
recommendations to Lord Wellington; and, I dare say, I
should have picked up some curious materials for battle scenery. A friend of mine made the very expedition, and
arriving at Oporto when our army was in retreat from the frontier, he was told
of the difficulty and danger he might encounter in crossing the country to the
southward, so as to join them on the march; nevertheless, he travelled on
through a country totally deserted, unless when he met bands of fugitive
peasantry flying they scarce knew whither, or the yet wilder groups of the
Ordinanza, or levy en masse, who,
fired with revenge or desire of plunder, had armed themselves to harass the
French detached parties. At length in a low glen he heard, with feelings that
may be easily conceived, the distant sound of a Highland bagpipe playing
‘The Garb of Old Gaul,’ and fell into
the quarters of a Scotch regiment, where he was most courteously received by
his countrymen, who assured ‘his honour he was just come in time to see
the pattle.’ Accordingly, being a young man of spirit, and a volunteer
sharp-shooter, he got a rifle, joined the light corps, and next day witnessed
the Battle of Busaco, of which he describes the carnage as being terrible. The
narrative was very simply told, and conveyed, better than any I have seen, the
impressions which such scenes are likely to make when they have the effect (I
had almost said the charm) of novelty. I don’t know why it is I never
found a soldier could give me an idea of a battle. I believe their mind is too
much upon the tactique to regard the
picturesque, just as the lawyers care very little for an elo-![]()
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quent speech at the bar, if it
does not show good doctrine. The technical phrases of the military art, too,
are unfavourable to convey a description of the concomitant terror and
desolation that attends an engagement; but enough of this bald disjointed chat,
from ever yours,
W. S.”
Princess Amelia (1711-1786)
Born in Hanover, she was the second daughter of George II, known for her sharp
tongue.
Princess Amelia (1783-1810)
The youngest daughter of George III; she died of tuberculosis after a long illness to the
despair of her father.
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.
Matthew Baillie (1761-1823)
Physician and brother of Joanna Baillie; as successor to the anatomist William Hunter he
treated the pedal deformities of both Walter Scott and Lord Byron.
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.
Martin Martin (1669 c.-1718)
Of Skye, educated at Edinburgh University, he was author of
Description
of the Western Islands of Scotland (1703).
John Miller (d. 1841)
Of Lincoln's Inn; after practicing in Scotland (where he knew Walter Scott) he was called
to the bar in 1811 and made a King's Counsel in 1834; he was a contributor to the
Quarterly Review.
Thomas Morton (1764-1838)
English playwright who wrote comedies for Covent Garden;
The Way to Get
Married (1796) became a stock piece. He is pilloried by William Gifford in the
Baviad.
Frederick Reynolds (1764-1841)
The author of nearly a hundred plays, among them
The Dramatist
(1789) and
The Caravan; or the Driver and his Dog (1803). He was a
friend of Charles Lamb.
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.
