[ 122 ] |
Sir Walter remained at this time six weeks in London. His eldest son’s regiment was stationed at Hampton Court; the second had recently taken his desk at the Foreign Office, and was living at his sister’s in the Regent’s Park; he had thus looked forward to a happy meeting with all his family—but he encountered scenes of sickness and distress, in consequence of which I saw but little of him in general society. I shall cull a few notices from his private volume, which, however, he now opened much less regularly than formerly, and which offers a total blank for the latter half of the year 1828. In coming up to town he diverged a little for the sake of seeing the interesting subject of the first of these extracts.
CHARLECOTE HALL—LONDON. | 123 |
“April 8.—Learning from Washington Irving’s description of Stratford, that the hall of Sir Thomas Lucy, the justice who rendered Warwickshire too hot for Shakspeare, was still extant, we went in quest of it.
“Charlecote is in high preservation, and inhabited by Mr Lucy, descendant of the worshipful Sir Thomas. The Hall is about three hundred years old, a brick mansion with a gate-house in advance. It is surrounded by venerable oaks, realizing the imagery which Shakspeare loved to dwell upon; rich verdant pastures extend on every side, and numerous herds of deer were reposing in the shade. All showed that the Lucy family had retained their ‘land and beeves.’ While we were surveying the antlered old hall, with its painted glass and family pictures, Mr Lucy came to welcome us in person, and to show the house, with the collection of paintings, which seems valuable.
“He told me the park from which Shakspeare stole the buck was not that which surrounds Charlecote, but belonged to a mansion at some distance, where Sir Thomas Lucy resided at the time of the trespass. The tradition went that they hid the buck in a barn, part of which was standing a few years ago, but now totally decayed. This park no longer belongs to the Lucys. The house bears no marks of decay, but seems the abode of ease and opulence. There were some fine old books, and I was told of many more which were not in order. How odd if a folio Shakspeare should be found amongst them. Our early breakfast did not permit taking advantage of an excellent repast offered by the kindness of Mr and Mrs Lucy, the last a lively Welshwoman. This visit gave me great pleasure; it really brought Justice Shallow freshly before my eyes;—the luces ‘which do become an old coat well,’* were
* Henry IV., Act III., Scene 2. |
124 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Regent’s Park, April 17.—Made up my journal, which had fallen something behind. In this phantasmagorial place the objects of the day come and depart like shadows. Went to Murray’s, where I met Mr Jacob, the great economist. He is proposing a mode of supporting the poor, by compelling them to labour under a species of military discipline. I see no objection to it, only it will make a rebellion to a certainty; and the tribes of Jacob will cut Jacob’s throat.†
“Canning’s conversion from popular opinions was strangely brought round. While he was studying in the Temple, and rather entertaining revolutionary opinions, Godwin sent to say that he was coming to breakfast with him, to speak on a subject of the highest importance. Canning knew little of him, but received his visit, and learned to his astonishment, that in expectation of a new order of things, the English Jacobins designed to place him, Canning, at the head of their revolution. He was much struck, and asked time to think what course he should take—and having thought the matter over, he went to Mr Pitt, and made the Anti-Jacobin confession of faith, in which he persevered
* As You Like It, Act I., Scene 7. † I believe Mr Jacob published at this time some tracts concerning the Poor Colonies instituted by the King of the Netherlands. |
APRIL, 1828. | 125 |
“Dined with Rogers with all my own family, and met Sharp, Lord John Russell, Jekyll, and others. The conversation flagged as usual, and jokes were fired like minute-guns, producing an effect not much less melancholy. A wit should always have an atmosphere congenial to him, otherwise he will not shine.
“April 18.—Breakfasted at Hampstead with Joanna Baillie, and found that gifted person extremely well, and in the display of all her native knowledge of character and benevolence. I would give as much to have a capital picture of her as for any portrait in the world. Dined with the Dean of Chester, Dr Philpotts—
‘Where all above us was a solemn row Of priests and deacons—so were all below.’* |
“April 19.—Breakfasted with Sir George Phillips. Had his receipt against the blossoms being injured by frost. It consists in watering them plentifully before sunrise. This is like the mode of thawing beef. We
* Crabbe’s Tale of ‘the Dumb Orators.’ |
126 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“April 22.—Sophia left this to take down poor Johnnie to Brighton. I fear—I fear—but we must hope the best. Anne went with her sister.
“Lockhart and I dined with Sotheby, where we met a large party, the orator of which was that extraordinary man Coleridge. After eating a hearty dinner, during which he spoke not a word, he began a most learned harangue on the Samothracian Mysteries, which he regards as affording the germ of all tales about fairies past, present, and to come. He then diverged to Homer, whose Iliad he considered as a collection of poems by different authors, at different times, during a century. Morritt, a zealous worshipper of the old bard, was incensed at a system which would turn him into a polytheist, gave battle with keenness, and was joined by Sotheby. Mr Coleridge behaved with the utmost complaisance and temper, but relaxed not from his exertions. ‘Zounds, I was never so bethumped with words.’ Morritt’s impatience must have cost him an extra sixpence worth of snuff.
“April 23.—Dined at
Lady Davy’s with Lord
LONDON, APRIL, 1828. | 127 |
“April 24.—Spent the day in rectifying a road bill which drew a turnpike road through all the Darnickers’ cottages, and a good field of my own. I got it put to rights. I was in some apprehension of being obliged to address the Committee. I did not fear them, for I suppose they are no wiser or better in their capacity of legislators than I find them every day at dinner. But I feared for my reputation. They would have expected something better than the occasion demanded, or the individual could produce, and there would have been a failure. We had one or two persons at home in great wretchedness to dinner. I was not able to make any fight, and the evening went off as heavily as any I ever spent in the course of my life.
“April 26.—We dined at Richardson’s with the two Chief Barons of England* and Scotland,† odd enough, the one being a Scotsman and the other an Englishman—far the pleasantest day we have had. I suppose I am partial, but I think the lawyers beat the bishops, and the bishops beat the wits.
“April 26.—This morning I went to meet a remarkable man, Mr Boyd of the house of Boyd, Benfield, & Co., which broke for a very large sum at the beginning of the war. Benfield went to the devil I believe. Boyd, a man of very different stamp, went over to Paris to look after some large claims which his house had
128 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“April 30.—We have Mr Adolphus, and his father, the celebrated lawyer, to breakfast,
and I was greatly delighted with the information of the latter. A barrister
LONDON, MAY, 1828. | 129 |
“May 1.—Breakfasted with Lord and Lady Francis Gower, and enjoyed the splendid treat of hearing Mrs Arkwright sing her own music, which is of the highest order—no forced vagaries of the voice, no caprices of tone, but all telling upon and increasing the feeling the words require. This is ‘marrying music to immortal verse.’ Most people place them on separate maintenance.*
“May 2.—I breakfasted with a Mr ——, and narrowly escaped Mr Irving the celebrated preacher. The two ladies of his house seemed devoted to his opinions, and quoted him at every word. Mr —— himself made some apologies for the Millenium. He is a neat antiquary, who thinks he ought to have been a man of letters, and that his genius has been misdirected in
* Among other songs Mrs Arkwright (see ante, p. 77), delighted Sir Walter with her own set of—
|
130 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“May 5.—Breakfasted with Haydon, and sat for my head. I hope this artist is on his legs again. The King has given him a lift, by buying his clever picture of the Mock Election in the King’s Bench prison, to which he is adding a second part, representing the chairing of the member at the moment it was interrupted by the entry of the guards. Haydon was once a great admirer and companion of the champions of the Cockney school, and is now disposed to renounce them and their opinions. To this kind of conversation I did not give much way. A painter should have nothing to do with politics. He is certainly a clever fellow, but too enthusiastic, which, however, distress seems to have cured in some degree. His wife, a pretty woman, looked happy to see me, and that is something. Yet it was very little I could do to help them.*
“May 8.—Dined with Mrs Alexander of Ballochmyle: Lord and Lady Meath, who were kind to us in Ireland, and a Scottish party, pleasant from having the broad accents and honest thoughts of my native land. A large circle in the evening. A gentleman came up to me and asked ‘If I had seen the Casket, a curious work, the most beautiful, the most highly ornamented,—and then the editor or editress—a female so interesting,—might he ask a very great favour?’ and
* Sir Walter had shortly before been one of the contributors to a subscription for Mr Haydon. The imprisonment from which this subscription relieved the artist produced, I need scarcely say, the picture mentioned in the Diary. |
LONDON, MAY, 1828. | 131 |
“May 9.—Grounds of Foote’s farce of the Cozeners. Lady —— A certain Mrs
Phipps audaciously set up in a fashionable quarter of the town
as a person through whose influence, properly propitiated, favours and
situations of importance might certainly be obtained always for a
consideration. She cheated many people, and maintained the trick for months.
One trick was to get the equipages of Lord
North, and other persons of importance, to halt before her door,
as if their owners were within. With respect to most of them, this was effected
by bribing the drivers. But a gentleman who watched her closely, observed that
Charles J. Fox actually left his
carriage and went into the house, and this more than once. He was then, it must
be noticed, in the Ministry. When Mrs Phipps was blown up,
this circumstance was recollected as deserving explanation, which
Fox readily gave at Brookes’ and elsewhere. It
seems Mrs Phipps had the art to persuade him that she had
the disposal of what was then called a hyæna, that
is, an heiress—an immense Jamaica heiress, in whom she was willing to give or
sell her interest to Charles Fox. Without having perfect
confidence in the obliging proposal, the great statesman thought the thing
worth looking after, and became so earnest in it, that Mrs
Phipps was desirous to back out for fear of discovery.
132 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“This day, at the request of Sir William Knighton, I sat to Northcote, who is to introduce himself in the same piece in the act of painting me, like some pictures of the Venetian school. The artist is an old man, low in stature, and bent with years—fourscore at least. But the eye is quick and the countenance noble. A pleasant companion, familiar with recollections of Sir Joshua, Samuel Johnson, Burke, Goldsmith, &c. His account of the last confirms all that we have heard of his oddities.
“May 11.—Another long
sitting to the old Wizard Northcote. He
really resembles an animated mummy. Dined with his
Majesty in a very private party, five or six only being present.
I was received most kindly, as usual. It is impossible to conceive a more
friendly manner than that his Majesty used towards me. I spoke to Sir William Knighton about the dedication of
the
LONDON, MAY, 1828. | 133 |
“May 17.—A day of busy idleness. Richardson came and breakfasted with me, like a good fellow. Then I went to Mr Chantrey. Thereafter, about 12 o’clock, I went to breakfast the second at Lady Shelley’s, where there was a great morning party. A young lady begged a lock of my hair, which was not worth refusing. I stipulated for a kiss, which I was permitted to take. From this I went to the Duke of Wellington, who gave me some hints or rather details. Afterwards I drove out to Chiswick, where I had never been before. A numerous and gay party were assembled to walk and enjoy the beauties of that Palladian dome. The place and highly ornamented gardens belonging to it resemble a picture of Watteau. There is some affectation in the picture, but in the ensemble the original looked very well. The Duke of Devonshire received every one with the best possible manners. The scene was dignified by the presence of an immense elephant, who, under charge of a groom, wandered up and down, giving an air of Asiatic pageantry to the entertainment. I was never before sensible of the dignity which largeness of size and freedom of movement give to this otherwise very ugly animal. As I was to dine at Holland House, I did not partake in the magnificent repast which was offered to us, and took myself off about five o’clock. I contrived to make a demi-toilette at Holland House, rather than drive all the way to London. Rogers came to the dinner, which was very entertaining. Lady Holland pressed us to stay all night, which we did accordingly.
“May 18.—The freshness of the air, the singing of
* The Magnum Opus was dedicated to King George IV. |
134 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“May 19.—Dined by command
with the Duchess of Kent. I was very kindly
recognised by Prince Leopold—and presented
to the little Princess Victoria—I hope
they will change her name—the heir-apparent to the crown as things now stand.
How strange that so large and fine a family as that of his late Majesty should have died off, or decayed into
old age, with so few descendants. Prince George of
Cumberland is, they say, a fine boy about nine years old—a bit
of a Pickle. This little lady is educating with much care, and watched so
closely that no busy maid has a moment to whisper, ‘You are heir of
England.’ I suspect if we could dissect the little heart, we should find
that some pigeon or other bird of the air had carried the matter. She is fair,
like the Royal family—the Duchess herself very pleasing and affable in her
manners. I sat by Mr Spring Rice, a very
agreeable man. There were also Charles
Wynn and his lady—and the
evening, for a court evening, went agreeably
KENSINGTON PALACE, &c. | 135 |
“May 24.—This day dined at Richmond Park with Lord Sidmouth. Before dinner his Lordship showed me letters which passed between his father, Dr. Addington, and the great Lord Chatham. There was much of that familiar friendship which arises, and must arise, between an invalid, the head of an invalid family, and their medical adviser, supposing the last to be a wise and wellbred man. The character of Lord Chatham’s handwriting is strong and bold, and his expressions short and manly. There are intimations of his partiality for William, whose health seems to have been precarious during boyhood. He talks of William imitating him in all he did, and calling for ale because his father was recommended to drink it. ‘If I should smoke,’ he said, ‘William would instantly call for a pipe;’ and, he wisely infers, ‘I must take care what I do.’ The letters of the late William Pitt are of great curiosity; but as, like all real letters of business, they only allude to matters with which his correspondent is well acquainted, and do not enter into details, they would require an ample commentary. I hope Lord Sidmouth will supply this, and have urged it as much as I can. I think, though I hate letters, and abominate interference, I will write to him on this subject. Here I met my old and much esteemed friend, Lord Stowell, looking very frail and even comatose. Quantum mutatus. He was one of the pleasantest men I ever knew.
“Respecting the letters, I picked up from those of
Pitt that he was always extremely
desirous of peace with France, and even reckoned upon it at a moment when he
ought to have despaired. I suspect this false view of the state of France (for
such it was) which in-
136 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“May 25.—After a morning of letter-writing, leave-taking, papers destroying, and God knows what trumpery, Sophia and I set out for Hampton Court, carrying with us the following lions and lionesses—Samuel Rogers, Tom Moore, Wordsworth, with wife and daughter. “We were very kindly and properly received by Walter and his wife, and had a very pleasant day. At parting Rogers gave me a gold-mounted pair of glasses, which I will not part with in a hurry. I really like S. R., and have always found him most friendly.”
This is the last London entry; but I must mention two circumstances
that, occurred during that visit. Breakfasting one morning with Allan Cunningham, and commending one of his publications, he looked round
the table and said, “what are you going to make of all these boys,
Allan?” “I ask that question often at my
own heart,” said Allan, “and I cannot answer
it.”
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM—1828. | 137 |
138 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Another friend’s private affairs occupied more unpleasantly much of Scott’s attention during this residence in London. He learned, shortly after his arrival, that misfortunes (as foreseen by himself in May, 1825) had gathered over the management of the Adelphi Theatre.* The following letter has been selected from among several on the same painful subject.
“I received with sincere distress your most melancholy letter. Certainly want of candour with one’s friends is blameable, and procrastination in circumstances of embarrassment is highly unwise. But they bring such a fearful chastisement on the party who commits them that he may justly expect, not the reproaches, but the sympathy and compassion of his friends; at least of all such whose conscience charges them with errors of their own. For my part I feel as little title, as God knows I have wish, to make any reflections on the matter, more than are connected with the most sincere regret on your own account. The sum at which I stand noted in the schedule is of no consequence in the now more favourable condition of my affairs, and the loss to me personally is the less, that I always considered L.200 of the same as belonging to my godson; but he is young, and may not miss the loss when he comes to be fitted out for the voyage of life; we must hope the best. I told your solicitor that I desired he would consider me as a friend of yours, desirous, to take as a creditor the measures which seemed best to forward your interest. It might be inconvenient to me were I called upon to make up such instalments of
* See ante, vol. vi. p. 20. |
LETTER TO MR TERRY. | 139 |
“As to your views about an engagement at Edinburgh I
doubt much, though an occasional visit would probably succeed. My countrymen,
taken in their general capacity, are not people to have recourse to in adverse
circumstances. John Bull is a better beast
in misfortune. Your objections to an American trip are quite satisfactory,
unless the success of your Solicitor’s measures should in part remove
them, when it may be considered as a pis-aller. As to Walter there can be no difficulty in procuring his admission to
the Edinburgh Academy, and if he could be settled with his grandfather, or
under his eye, as to domestic accommodation, I would willingly take care of his
schooling, and look after him when I am in town. I shall be anxious, indeed,
till I hear that you are once more restored to the unrestrained use of your
talents; for I am sensible how
140 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
‘Up and rig a jury foremast, She rights, she rights, boys, we’re offshore.’ |
On the afternoon of the 28th of May Sir Walter started for the north, but could not resist going out of his way to see the spot where “Mr William Weare, who dwelt in Lyon’s Inn,” was murdered. His Diary says:
“Our elegant researches carried us out of the high-road and through a labyrinth of intricate lanes, which seem made on purpose to afford strangers the full benefit of a dark night and a drunk driver, in order to visit Gill’s Hill, in Hertfordshire, famous for the murder of Mr Weare. The place has the strongest title to the description of Wordsworth,
‘A merry spot ’tis said in days of yore, But something ails it now—the place is curst.’ |
GILL’S HILL—MAY, 1828. | 141 |
* Weare, Thurtell, and all the rest were professed gamblers. See ante, Vol. VI. p. 330. |
142 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“May 29.—We travelled from Alconbury Hill to Ferry Bridge, upwards of a hundred miles, amid all the beauties of flourish and verdure which spring awakens at her first approach in the midland counties of England, but without any variety, save those of the season’s making. I do believe this great north road is the dullest in the world, as well as the most convenient for the travellers. The skeleton at Barnby Moor has deserted his gibbet, and that is the only change I recollect.
“Rokeby, May 30.—We left Ferry Bridge-at
seven, and reached this place at past three. A mile from the house we met Morritt, looking for us. I had great pleasure in
finding myself at Rokeby, and recollecting a hundred passages of past time.
Morritt looks well and easy in his mind, which I am delighted
to see. He is now one of my oldest, and, I believe, one of my most sincere friends; a
man unequalled in the mixture of sound good sense, high literary cultivation, and the
kindest and sweetest temper that ever graced a human bosom. His nieces are much
attached to him, and are deserving and elegant, as well as beautiful young women. What
there is in our partiality to female beauty that commands a species of temperate homage
from the aged, as
MAY, 1828. | 143 |
“Talking of youth, there was a certain professor at Cambridge who used to keep sketches of all the lads who, from their conduct at college, seemed to bid fair for distinction in life. He showed them one day to an old shrewd sarcastic master of arts, who looked over the collection, and then observed, ‘A promising nest of eggs; what a pity the great part will turn out addle!’ And so they do:—looking round amongst the young men one sees to all appearances fine flourish—but it ripens not.
“May 31.—I have finished Napier’s War in the Peninsula.* It is written in the spirit of a Liberal, but the narrative is distinct and clear. He has, however, given a bad sample of accuracy in the case of Lord Strangford, where his pointed affirmation has been as pointedly repelled. It is evident he would require probing. His defence of Moore is spirited and well argued, though it is evident he defends the statesman as much as the general. As a Liberal and a military man, Napier finds it difficult to steer his course. The former character calls on him to plead for the insur-
* The first volume of Colonel Napier’s work had recently been published. |
144 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Next night Sir Walter rested at Carlisle. “A sad place,” says the Diary, “in my domestic remembrances, since here I married my poor Charlotte. She is gone, and I am following faster, perhaps, than I wot off. It is something to have lived and loved; and our poor children are so hopeful and affectionate, that it chastens the sadness attending the thoughts of our separation. My books being finished, I lighted on an odd volume of the Gentleman’s Magazine, a work in which, as in a pawnbroker’s shop, much of real curiosity and value are stowed away amid the frippery and trumpery of those reverend old gentlewomen who were the regular correspondents of Mr Urban.”
His companion wrote thus a day or two afterwards to her sister*—“Early in the morning before we started, papa took me with him to the Cathedral. This he had often done before; but he said he must stand once more on the spot where he married poor mamma. After that we went to the Castle, where a new showman went through the old trick of pointing out Fergus Mac Ivor’s very dungeon. Peveril said ‘Indeed? Are you quite sure, sir?’ And on being told there could be no doubt, was troubled with a fit of coughing, which ended in a laugh. The man seemed exceeding indignant: so when Papa moved on, I whispered who it was. I wish you had seen the man’s start, and how he stared and bowed as he
* I copy from a letter which has no date, so that I cannot be quite sure of this being the halt at Carlisle it refers to. I once witnessed a scene almost exactly the same at Stirling Castle, where an old soldier called Sir Walter’s attention to the “very dungeon” of Rhoderick Dhu. |
AUTUMN, 1828. | 145 |
They reached Abbotsford that night, and a day or two afterwards Edinburgh; where Sir Walter was greeted with the satisfactory intelligence, that his plans as to the “opus magnum” had been considered at a meeting of his trustees, and finally approved in toto. As the scheme inferred a large outlay on drawings and engravings, and otherwise, this decision had been looked for with much anxiety by him and Mr Cadell. He says, “I trust it will answer; yet who can warrant the continuance of popularity? Old Nattali Corri, who entered into many projects, and could never set the sails of a windmill to catch the aura popularis, used to say he believed that, were he to turn baker, it would put bread out of fashion. I have had the better luck to dress my sails to every wind; and so blow on, good wind, and spin round, whirligig.” The Corri here alluded to was an unfortunate adventurer, who, among many other wild schemes, tried to set up an Italian Opera at Edinburgh.
The Diary for the next month records the usual meeting at Blair-Adam but nothing worth quoting, that was done or said, except, perhaps, these two scraps
“Salutation of two old Scottish Lairds—‘Ye’re maist obedient hummil servant, Tannachy-Tulloch.’—‘Your nain man, Kilspindie.’
“Hereditary descent in the Highlands. A
clergyman showed John Thomson the island of Inchmachome, on the
Port of Monteith, and pointed out the boatman as a remarkable person, the
representative of the hereditary gardeners of the Earls of Monteith, while these Earls
existed. His son, a puggish boy, follows up the theme,
146 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
During the remainder of this year, as I already mentioned, Sir Walter never opened his “locked book.” Whether in Edinburgh or the country, his life was such, that he describes himself, in several letters, as having become “a writing automaton.” He had completed, by Christmas, the Second Series of Tales on Scottish History, and made considerable progress in another novel—Anne of Geierstein: he had also drawn up for the Quarterly Review his article on Mr Morier’s Hajji Baba in England; and that delightful one on Sir Humphry Davy’s Salmonia—which, like those on Planting and Gardening, abounds in sweet episodes of personal reminiscence: And, whenever he had not proof-sheets to press him, his hours were bestowed on the opus magnum.
A few extracts from his correspondence may supply in part this blank in the Diary. Several of them touch on the affairs of Mr Terry, whose stamina were not sufficient to resist the stroke of misfortune. He had a paralytic seizure, very shortly after the ruin of his theatre was made public. One, addressed to a dear and early friend, Sir Alexander Wood, was written on the death of his brother-in-law, Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo—the same modest, gentle, and high-spirited man with whose history Sir Walter’s had (as the Diary of 1826 tells) been very remarkably intertwined.
“I wrote myself blind and sick last week about
LETTER TO J. G. LOCKHART, ESQ.—1828. | 147 |
‘O what a world of worlds were it, Would sorrow, pain, and sickness spare it, And aye a rowth roast-beef and claret; Syne wha would starve?’ |
“If it be true that Longman and Co. have offered L.1000 for a history of Ireland, Scotland must stand at fifty per cent discount, for they lately offered me L.500 for one of the latter country, which of course I declined. I have also had Murray’s request to do some biography for his new undertaking.‡ But I really can’t think of any Life I could easily do, excepting Queen Mary’s, and that I decidedly would not do, because my opinion, in point of fact, is contrary both to the popular feeling and to my own. I see, by the by, that your Life of Burns is going to press again, and therefore send you a few letters which may be of use to you. In one of them (to that singular old curmudgeon, Lady Winifred Constable) you will see he plays high Jacobite, and, on that account, it is curious; though I imagine his Jacobitism, like my own, belonged to the fancy rather than the reason. He was, however, a great Pittite down to a certain period. There were some passing stupid verses in the papers, attacking and defending his satire on a certain preacher,
† These letters, chiefly addressed to Sir Walter’s excellent friend, James Heywood Markland, Esq. (Editor of the Chester Mysteries), were on a delicate subject connected with the incipient arrangements of King’s College, London. ‡ Mr Murray of Albemarle Street was at this time projecting his Family Library, one of the many imitations of Constable’s last scheme. |
148 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
‘A Whig, I guess. But Rab’s a Tory, An gies us mony a funny story.’ |
“This was in 1787—Ever yours,
“We were equally gratified and surprised by the arrival of the superb time-piece, with which you have ornamented our halls. There are grand discussions where it is to be put, and we are only agreed upon one point, that it is one of the handsomest things of the kind we ever saw, and that we are under great obligations to the kind donor. On my part, I shall never look on it without recollecting that the employment of my time is a matter of consequence to you, as well as myself.*
“I send you two letters, of which copies will be requisite for the magnum opus. They must be copied separately. I wish you would learn from Mr Walter Dickson, with my best respects, the maiden name of Mrs Goldie, and the proper way in which she ought to be designated. Another point of information I wish to have is, concerning the establishment of the King’s beadsmen or blue-gowns. Such should occur in any account of the Chapel-Royal, to which they were an appendage, but I have looked into Arnott and Maitland, without being able to find any thing. My friend, Dr Lee, will know at once where this is to be sought for.
* The allusion is to a clock in the style of Louis Quatorze, now in the drawing-room at Abbotsford. |
OCTOBER—1828. | 149 |
“Here is a question. Burns in his poetry repeatedly states the idea of his becoming a beggar—these passages I have. But there is a remarkable one in some of his prose, stating with much spirit the qualifications he possessed for the character. I have looked till I am sick, through all the letters of his which I have seen, and cannot find this. Do you know any amateur of the Ayrshire Bard who can point it out? It will save time, which is precious with me.*
“J. B. has given me such a dash of criticism, that I have laid by the Maid of the Mist for a few days, but I am working hard, mean-while, at the illustrations, so no time is lost.—Yours very truly,
“I write to you rather than to the poor Terrys, on the subject of their plans, which appear to me to require reconsideration, as I have not leisure so to modify my expressions as to avoid grating upon feelings which may be sore enough already. But if I advise I must be plain. The plan of a cottage in this neighbourhood is quite visionary. London or its vicinity is the best place for a limited income, because you can get every thing you want without taking a pennyweight more of it than you have occasion for. In the country (with us at least) if you want a basin of milk every day, you must keep a cow—if you want a bunch of straw, you must have a farm. But what is still worse, it seems to me that such a plan would remove Terry out of his natural
* These queries all point to the annotation of The Antiquary. |
150 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“We have had little Walter Terry with us. He is a nice boy. I have got him sent to
the New Academy in Edinburgh, and hope he will do well. Indeed, I have good
hopes as to them all, but the prospect of success must remain, first, with the
restoration of Terry to the power of
thought and labour, a matter which is in God’s
OCTOBER, 1828. | 151 |
“Our worthy old aunt, Lady Raeburn, is gone, and I am now the eldest living person of my father’s family. My old friend, Sir William Forbes, is extremely ill, dying I fear, and the winter seems to approach with more than usual gloom. We are well here, however, and send love to Lockhart and the babies. I want to see L. much, and hope he may make a run down at Christmas.
“You will take notice, that all the advice I venture to offer to the Terrys is according as matters now stand.* Indeed, I think he is better now, than when struggling against a losing concern, turning worse every day. With health I have little doubt he may do well yet, and without it what can any one do? Poor Rose, he too seems to be very badly, and so end, if I lose him, wit, talent, frolic beyond the bounds of sobriety, all united with an admirable heart and feelings.
“Besides all other objections to Terry’s plan, the poor invalid would be most uncomfortable here. As my guest, it was another thing; but without power to entertain the better sort of folk, and liable from his profession to the prejudices of our middling people, without means too of moving about, he must, while we are not at Abbotsford, be an absolute hermit. Besides, health may be restored so as to let him act again—regimen and quiet living do much in such cases and he should not rashly throw up professional connexions. If they
* Mr Terry died in London on the 22d June, 1829. His widow to whom these Memoirs have owed many of their materials, is now (1837), married to Mr Charles Richardson of Tulse Hill, the author of the well-known Dictionary of the English Language, &c. |
152 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I have been delighted with your views of coming back to Chiefswood next summer,—but had you not better defer that for another year? Here is plenty of room for you all—plenty of beef and mutton—plenty of books for L., and he should have the little parlour (the monkey-room, as Morritt has christened it) inviolate—and he and I move on easily without interrupting each other. Pray think of all this, and believe that, separated as I am so much from you both and the grandchildren, the more I can see of you all while I have eyes left to see you with, the greater will be my pleasure. I am turning a terrible fixture with rheumatism, and go about little but in the carriage, and round the doors. A change of market-days, but seams will slit, and elbows will out. My general health is excellent.—I am always, dearest, Sophia, your affectionate father,
“Your letter brought me the afflicting intelligence
of the death of our early and beloved friend Sir
William. I had little else to expect, from the state of health
in which he was when I last saw him, but that circumstance does not diminish
the pain with which I now reflect that I shall never see him more. He was a man
who, from his habits, could not be intimately known to many, although every
thing which he did partook of that high feeling and generosity which belongs
perhaps to a better age than that we live in. In him I feel I have sustained a
loss which no after years of my life can fill up
DEATH OF SIR WILLIAM FORBES. | 153 |
“I beg my kindest compliments and sincere expression of sympathy to Lady Wood, and to any of the sorrowing family who may be gratified by the interest of one of their father’s oldest friends and most afflicted survivors.
“God bless you, my dear Wood! and I am sure you will believe me
154 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I have a sad affliction in the death of poor Sir William Forbes. You loved him well, I know, but it is impossible that you should enter into all my feelings on this occasion. My heart bleeds for his children. God help all!
“Your scruples about doing an epitome of the Life of Bony, for the Family Library that is to be, are a great deal over delicate. My book in nine thick volumes can never fill the place which our friend Murray wants you to fill, and which, if you don’t, some one else will right soon. Moreover, you took much pains in helping me when I was beginning my task, which I afterwards greatly regretted that Constable had no means of remunerating, as no doubt he intended, when you were giving him so much good advice in laying down his grand plans about the Miscellany. By all means do what the Emperor asks. He is what Emperor Nap. was not, much a gentleman, and, knowing our footing in all things, would not have proposed any thing that ought to have excited scruples on your side. Alas, poor Crafty! Do you remember his exultation when my Bony affair was first proposed? Good God, I see him as he then was at this moment—how he swelled and rolled and reddened, and outblarneyed all blarney! Well, so be it. I hope
‘After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.’* |
“I am getting very unlocomotive—something like
* Macbeth. |
OCTOBER, 1828. | 155 |
‘Who proved as sure as God’s in Gloster, That Moses was a grand impostor;’* |
* Swift. |
156 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Of the same date was the following letter, addressed to the Editor of a work, entitled, “The Courser’s Manual.” He had asked Sir Walter for a contribution; and received therewith the ancient Scottish ditty of “Auld Heck:”—
“I have loved the sport of coursing so well, and pursued it so keenly for several years, that I would with pleasure have done any thing in my power to add to your collection on the subject; but I have long laid aside the amusement, and still longer renounced the poetical pen, which ought to have celebrated it; and I could only send you the laments of an old man, and the enumeration of the number of horses and dogs which have been long laid under the sod. I cannot, indeed, complain with the old huntsman, that—
‘——No one now, Dwells in the hall of Ivor, |
OCTOBER, 1828. | 157 |
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead, And I the sole survivor;’* |
“The elegy itself turns upon a circumstance which, when I kept greyhounds, I felt a considerable alloy to the sport; I mean, the necessity of despatching the instruments and partakers of our amusement, when they begin to make up, by cunning, for the deficiency of youthful vigour. A greyhound is often termed an inferior species of the canine race, in point of sagacity, and in the eyes of an accomplished sportsman it is desirable they should be so, since they are valued for their spirit, not their address. Accordingly, they are seldom admitted to the rank of personal favourites, I have had such greyhounds, however, and they possessed as large a share of intelligence, attachment, and sagacity, as any other species of dog that I ever saw. In such cases, it becomes difficult or impossible to execute the doom upon the antiquated greyhound, so coolly recommended by Dame Juliana Berners:—
And when he comes to that yere, Have him to the tannere, For the best whelp ever bitch had At nine years is full bad.’ |
“I cannot help adding to the ‘Last Words of Bonny Heck,’ a sporting anecdote, said to have happened in
* Wordsworth. |
158 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“The publican was, of course, the party most
especially affected by the discontinuance of the club, and
OCTOBER, 1828. | 159 |
Resuming his journal at the close of the year, he says, “Having omitted to carry on my Diary for two or three days, I lost heart to make it up, and left it unfilled for many a month and day. During this period nothing has happened worth particular notice:—the same occupations,—the same amusements,—the same occasional alternations of spirits, gay or depressed,—the same absence, for the most part, of all sensible or rational cause for the one or the other. I half grieve to take up my pen, and doubt if it is worth my while to record such an infinite quantity of nothing.”
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