Chapter LXV (4)

When Scott dined at Carlton House in 1815, the Prince Regent is said to have been particularly delighted with his guest's anecdotes of the old Scottish judges and lawyers. The following story was considered among the best, and it is one which Scott was fond of telling: 'Lord Kames' (described by Cockburn as 'an indefatigable and speculative but coarse man'), 'whenever he went on the Ayr circuit, was in the habit of visiting Matthew Hay, a gentleman of good fortune in the neighbourhood, and staying at least one night, which, being both of them ardent chess players, they usually concluded with their favourite game. One spring circuit the battle was not concluded at daybreak, so the judge said--"Well, Matthew, I must e'en come back this gate in the harvest, and let the game lie ower for the present"; and back he came in September, but not to his old friend's hospitable house; for that gentleman had in the meantime been apprehended on a capital charge, and his name stood on the _Porteous Roll_, or list of those who were about to be tried under his former guest's auspices. The laird was indicted and tried accordingly, and the jury returned a verdict of _Guilty_. The judge forthwith put on his cocked hat (which answers to the black cap in England), and pronounced the sentence of the law in the usual terms--"To be hanged by the neck until you are dead; and may the Lord have mercy upon your unhappy soul!" Having concluded this awful formula in his most sonorous cadence, Kames, dismounting his formidable beaver, gave a familiar nod to his unfortunate acquaintance, and said to him in a sort of chuckling whisper--"And now, Matthew, my man, that's checkmate to you." The Regent laughed heartily at this specimen of judicial humour; and, "I'faith, Walter," said he, "this old big-wig seems to have taken things as coolly as my tyrannical self. Don't you remember Tom Moore's description of me at breakfast--

"The table spread with tea and toast,
Death warrants and the _Morning Post_"?'

This gruesome story, incredible as it appears and repulsive in its bare and uncalled-for cruelty, is an attested fact. Lord Cockburn, in referring to the above incident, says: 'Besides general and uncontradicted notoriety, I had the fact from Lord Hermand, who was one of the counsel at the trial, and never forgot a piece of judicial cruelty which excited his horror and anger.'

To pass to a more agreeable subject, there was Lord Meadowbank, who disappeared from the festive party an hour or two after his marriage. Search was made, and the oblivious Benedick was found busily engaged in writing a profound thesis on the subject of 'Pains and Penalties.'

He was a most versatile man, and his fondness for discussion made him often highly diverting. Referring to his power of discovering principles and tracking out their consequences, Jeffrey said that while the other judges gave the tree a tug, Meadowbank not only tore it up by the roots, but gave it a shake which dispersed the earth and exposed all the fibres.

One day Mr. Thomas Walker Baird was, in a dull technical way, stating a dry case to Lord Meadowbank, who was sitting single. This did not please the judge, who thought that his dignity required a grander tone. So he dismayed poor Baird, than whom no man could have less turn for burning in the Forum, by throwing himself back in his chair and saying, 'Declaim, sir, why don't you declaim? Speak to me as if I were a popular assembly.'

In the lively story of Mr. Pleydell and his clerk Driver, Scott has immortalised the convivial habits of the Scottish Bar. The actual incident, as stated in the note, occurred to Dundas of Arniston at the time he was Lord Advocate. How ably the judges comported themselves at the table is well proved in Cockburn's description of Lord Hermand, who, he says, 'had acted in more of the severest scenes of old Scotch drinking than any man at least living. Commonplace topers think drinking a pleasure; with Hermand it was a virtue. It inspired the excitement by which he was elevated, and the discursive jollity which he loved to promote. But beyond these ordinary attractions, he had a sincere respect for drinking, indeed a high moral approbation, and a serious compassion for the poor wretches who could not indulge in it; with due contempt for those who could, but did not. He groaned over the gradual disappearance of the _Feriat_ days of periodical festivity, and prolonged the observance, like a hero fighting amidst his fallen friends, as long as he could. The worship of Bacchus, which softened his own heart, and seemed to him to soften the hearts of his companions, was a secondary duty. But in its performance there was no violence, no coarseness, no impropriety, and no more noise than what belongs to well-bred jollity unrestrained. It was merely a sublimation of his peculiarities and excellences; the realisation of what poetry ascribes to the grape. No carouse ever injured his health, for he was never ill, or impaired his taste for home and quiet, or muddled his head: he slept the sounder for it, and rose the earlier and the cooler. The cordiality inspired by claret and punch was felt by him as so congenial to all right thinking, that he was confident that he could convert the Pope if he could only get him to sup with him. And certainly his Holiness would have been hard to persuade if he could have withstood Hermand about the middle of his second tumbler.'

The Bacchic religion of Lord Hermand sometimes found expression even on the Bench. On one occasion a young man was convicted of culpable homicide. In a wrangle with a friend, with whom he had been drinking all night, he had stabbed him and caused his death. The case being little more than a sad accident, the youth was sentenced to only a short imprisonment. At this Lord Hermand, who regarded the case as a discredit to the cause of drinking, was highly indignant at his colleagues' softness. He would have transported the homicide: 'We are told that there was no malice, and that the prisoner must have been in liquor. In liquor! Why, he was drunk! And yet he murdered the very man who had been drinking with him! They had been carousing the whole night; and yet he stabbed him! after drinking a whole bottle of rum with him! Good God, my Laards, if he will do this when he's drunk, what will he not do when he's sober?'

A somewhat similar case shows Lord Hermand in a different light. His love for children was a great feature in his character. A little English midshipman, being attacked by a much bigger lad in Greenock, defended himself with his dirk, and somehow killed his assailant. 'He was tried for this in Glasgow, and had the good luck to have Hermand for his judge; for no judge ever fought a more gallant battle for a prisoner. The boy appeared at the bar in his uniform. Hermand first refused "to try a child." After this was driven out of him, the indictment, which described the occurrence, and said that the prisoner had slain the deceased "wickedly and feloniously," was read; and Hermand then said, "Well, my young friend, this is not true, is it? Are you guilty or not guilty?" "Not guilty, my Lord." "I'll be sworn you're not!" In spite of all his exertions, his young friend was convicted of culpable homicide; for which he was sentenced to a few days' imprisonment.'

With his mind filled with the sayings and doings of the Braxfields and the Eskgroves, Walter Scott could scarcely nourish many illusions regarding his chosen profession. Fortunately he went 'where his own nature would be leading.'

*CHAPTER XXII*

Political Lawyers--Politics an 'accident' in Scott's History--Early Days at the Bar--Peter Peebles--_The Mountain_--Anecdote of Scott and Clerk--The German Class--Friendship with William Erskine--German Romance--Seniors of the Bar--Robert Blair--Greatest of Scottish Judges--Anecdote of Hermand and Henry Erskine.

In speaking of Scottish politics in 1792--it was in 1792, November, that Scott and Clerk began their regular attendance at the Parliament House--it is desirable to repeat that Scott is not to be regarded as ever having been in any circumstances a politician. It is absurd even to mention his name among the crowd of Tory juniors seeking to push their way to preferment by party services and loud-mouthed partisan zeal. This crowd, of which Lord Cockburn speaks, 'produced several most excellent men and very respectable lawyers, but not one person, except Walter Scott, who rose to distinction in literature.' Scott was in no sense a 'product' of so ignoble a school. There is perhaps nothing in creation so utterly mean and odious as the person who deliberately engineers his course to legal office by excessive partisanship. Meanness and narrowness of mind must be born in the creature who does it. Who would expect literary distinction from such? If there be any instances on record--and there is most unfortunately that of Francis Bacon--of genius united with such a career, they are distinguished by their singularity, and operate as exceptions. Walter Scott was one of the junior bar, but he was never one of these political aspirants. His conscience, not the main chance, was the ruling principle with him. Party was a small thing to Scott: not the be-all and the end-all of existence as it was to many others of his contemporaries. It was natural for Cockburn and the Whigs, who were struggling for existence against very real oppression and injustice, to exaggerate to themselves the importance of the whole wretched business.

'They took the rustic murmur of their bourg
For the great wave that circles round the world.'

Scott's good sense and utter lack of conceit preserved him from falling into their mistake. Like most other men of culture and honour, both then and now, he frankly took a side in politics rather than be always posing as an independent and as if he were the only conscientious man in a neighbourhood. Historical sentiment, the glamour of romance and the tradition of great names, made him prefer the Tory side. That was all. But he retained his independence complete and unsullied. Whenever at any time he took an active part in militant politics, it was not to curry favour and gain the spoils, but because his whole heart and soul were with the cause.

Scott certainly started life with the idea of making his career in the law. Work gradually came to him. Friendly solicitors were pleased to put certain kinds of business in the young man's hands, chiefly at first, as was natural, for his father's sake. 'By and by,' says Clerk, 'he crept into a tolerable share of such business as may be expected from a Writer's connexion.' That is, of course, from his father's connection, and the business would consist of long written _informations_ and other papers for the Court, on which young counsellors of the Scottish Bar were expected to bestow a great deal of trouble for very scanty pecuniary remuneration, and with scarcely any chance of displaying their ability or making a name. Another part of every young advocate's work, even less important in fees or in fame, was that of acting for pauper litigants, as Alan Fairford did in the famous case of Poor Peter Peebles. In the note Scott says that he himself had at one time the honour to be counsel for the actual Peter.

On the whole, Scott in these early days had probably plenty of leisure time on his hands. He spent some of it at all events among the 'unemployed' of the Bar. They were in the habit of congregating at a particular spot at the north end of the Outer House, which, according to Lockhart, was called by a name which easily recalls the date--_the Mountain_. From Cockburn's account it would appear that the loungers of the Mountain were all Whigs, separated into a sect of their own and all branded with the same mark. As he mentions among them Thomas Thomson, who we know was at this time one of Scott's most intimate daily associates, we must infer that the separation was not quite absolute. The following story of Clerk's shows that he also was one of the group. One morning finding them all convulsed with laughter, he complained that _Duns Scotus_ had been forestalling him in a good story which he had told him privately the day before--adding, moreover, that his friend had not only stolen it, but disguised it. 'Why,' answered Scott, skilfully waiving the main charge, 'this is always the way with the _Baronet_. He is continually saying that I change his stories, whereas in fact I only put a cocked hat on their heads, and stick a cane into their hands--to make them fit for going into company.' About Christmas of this eventful year, Scott, Clerk, Thomson, and William Erskine (afterwards Lord Kinedder) joined a German class; and all the four soon qualified themselves to read Schiller and Goethe. Erskine was a Tory: Scott's other young advocate friends were by descent and connection Whigs. From the time of the German class Erskine and Scott drew closer together, and Erskine became by and by, as we learn from Lockhart, 'the nearest and most confidential' of all Scott's Edinburgh associates. We also know that, though politics never shook the mutual regard of the others, 'the events and controversies of the immediately ensuing years could not but disturb, more or less, the social habits of young barristers who adopted opposite views on the French Revolution and the policy of Pitt. His friendship exercised an influence which Lockhart rates very high, on Scott's literary tastes. Along with a sincere love of the classics, Erskine had cherished from boyhood a strong passion for Old English literature, especially the Elizabethan dramatists. He sympathised with, and understood the real value of, Scott's taste for antiquity and national lore. He delighted in the bold and picturesque style, the strength and originality, of the native English school, but he warned Scott of the necessity of paying some deference to modern taste. In short, he knew how to "sift and sunder," and understood that the absurdities and extravagances of great works form no part of their greatness, though they are exactly the parts most likely to be selected for imitation.' Lockhart, in pointing out that Scott was mainly influenced in his first literary attempts by the founders of German drama and romance, states the opinion that he ran at first no trivial risk of adopting some of their extravagances both of idea and expression. Erskine's vigorous condemnation of the mingled absurdities and vulgarities of German detail, coming from one who so enthusiastically admired their great qualities, and who approved of their new departure in choosing romantic subjects, had no doubt full weight in guiding the judgment of so sane and sound a genius as Scott.

The seniors of the Bar about this time were, on the Government or Tory side, Robert Blair, Charles Hope, and Robert Dundas. Of Blair it has been said by Cockburn that he was a species of man not very common in Scotland: he might have said in any country, if his own description is correct. 'He had a fine manly countenance, a gentleman-like, portly figure, a slow dignified gait, and a general air of thought and power. Too solid for ingenuity, and too plain for fancy, soundness of understanding was his peculiar intellectual quality. Within his range nobody doubted, or could doubt, Blair's wisdom. Nor did it ever occur to any one to doubt his probity. He was all honesty. The sudden opening of the whole secrets of his heart would not have disclosed a single speck of dishonour. And all his affections, personal and domestic, were excellent and steady.'

If not indolent, Blair seems to have been strongly averse to letting himself be bothered with mean details or drudgery. He maintained, as few can do, a noble independence of small and mean interests. But with his great love of rest, repose, and ease he combined a fiery and excitable disposition. The combination is said to be rare. It is always noble.

Blair is a splendid example of this truth. He was absolutely indifferent to preferment. Lord Melville says that George III. used to speak of him as 'the man who would not go up.' Literally as well as morally he kept his own way. There was a line, it is said, in the Outer House, which was kept clear for him whenever he was present. Even his official superiors, and the judges themselves, stood in awe of him. He was, by preference and practice, a silent man. He was one who could play a long game with a dozen people, and yet not speak. In politics he was a loyal party man, but as void of malignity as he was free from self-seeking. He was one of the few who 'have greatness thrust upon them,' having been made Lord President of the Court of Session a few years before his death. His memory is still revered as that of the greatest of Scottish judges. His character and the marvellous clearness of his judicial 'opinions' made him the pride of Edinburgh during his all too short reign, which closed in 1811. His death was very sudden, and affected the whole population like the unexpected loss of a dear personal friend. Lord Cockburn has described the scene: 'It overwhelmed us all. Party made no division about Blair. All pleasure and all business were suspended. I saw Hermand that night. He despised Blair's abstinence from the pollution of small politics. He did not know that he could love a man who neither cared for claret nor for whist; but, at near seventy years of age, he was crying like a child. Next day the Court was silent, and adjourned. The Faculty of Advocates, hastily called together, resolved to attend him to his grave. Henry Erskine tried to say something, and because he could only try it, it was as good a speech as he ever made.' From his grave in Greyfriars Churchyard to the edge of the Castlehill, the vast concourse of spectators stood silent and uncovered when the sod was laid.

*CHAPTER XXIII*

Seniors (_continued_)--Charles Hope--His Voice--Tribute by Cockburn--Robert Dundas, Nephew of Henry, Lord Melville--His Manner and Moderation--Anecdote of Lords Blair and Melville--Lord Melville's Son--Scott's Project of Emigration.

Charles Hope may be considered one of the very best representatives of his profession. He had an extensive practice as an advocate, and afterwards filled successively, with great distinction, the offices of Lord Advocate, Lord Justice-Clerk, and Lord President. But his great forte was public speaking. For this his qualifications were great: a tall figure, commanding presence, natural manner, great command of language, and a magnificent voice, which Cockburn describes as 'surpassed by that of the great Mrs. Siddons alone, which, drawn direct from heaven and worthy to be heard there, was the noblest that ever struck the human ear.'

Few men, surely, have ever received or deserved such an encomium from a political opponent as Cockburn has left us of Lord President Hope:--'It is a pleasure to me to think of him. He was my first--I might almost say my only, professional patron, and used to take me with him on his circuits; and in spite of my obstinate and active Whiggery has been kind to me through life. When his son, who was Solicitor-General in 1830, lost that office by the elevation of the Reform Ministry, and I succeeded him, his father shook me warmly by the hand, and said, "Well, Harry, I wish you joy. Since my son was to lose it, I am glad that your father's son has got it." It was always so with him. Less enlightened than confident in his public opinions, his feelings towards his adversaries, even when ardently denouncing their principles, were liberalised by the native humanity and fairness of his dispositions.'

Perhaps the most interesting public character in Scotland at the beginning of the nineteenth century was Robert Dundas of Arniston. He was the son of a Lord President Dundas, whose father had also occupied that high position. His uncle was Henry Dundas, Lord Melville, the famous friend of Pitt. The uncle, it is supposed, greatly influenced the policy of the nephew, whose power in Scotland was for a time almost unlimited. At all events, in a position almost certain to provoke jealousy and enmity on all hands, he was able to maintain a character for moderation and fairness even in the cases of political prosecution which his office of Lord Advocate required him to conduct. In those troublous times the powers given to the Lord Advocate were extravagant and arbitrary. Dundas seems to have been a man of moderate abilities and ordinary acquirements, but Cockburn's lively picture sufficiently explains his remarkable success in his trying and difficult duties. 'He had two qualifications which suited his position, and made him not only the best Lord Advocate that his party could have supplied, but really a most excellent one. These consisted in his manner, and in his moderation. He was a little, alert, handsome, gentleman-like man, with a countenance and air beaming with sprightliness and gaiety, and dignified by considerable fire; altogether inexpressibly pleasing. It was impossible not to like the owner of that look. No one could contemplate his animated and elegant briskness, or his lively benignity, without feeling that these were the reflections of an ardent and amiable heart. His want of intellectual depth and force seemed to make people like him the better. And his manner was worthy of his appearance. It was kind, polite, and gay; and if the fire did happen to break out, it was but a passing flash, and left nothing painful after it was gone.'

Dundas had his town residence at No. 57 George Square. His uncle, Lord Melville, had come here on the 26th of May 1811, with the intention of attending the funeral of Lord Blair next day. He retired to rest apparently in his usual health, but was found next morning dead in bed. Thus, strange to say, the two friends, who had both been alive and active a week before, were lying dead with but a wall between them, for Blair's house was No. 56, next door to that of Dundas. A strange incident is related by Lord Cockburn, which he says he was inclined to regard as true: viz., that a letter written by Lord Melville was found on his table, or in a writing-case after his death, in which he drew a moving picture of his feelings at the funeral of Lord Blair. Little had he imagined that he himself would be dead before that funeral took place. The letter was addressed to a member of the government, with a view to obtain some public provision for Blair's family. 'Such things,' adds Lord Cockburn, 'are always awkward when detected; especially when done by a skilful politician. Nevertheless an honest and a true man might do this. It is easy to anticipate one's feelings at a friend's burial; and putting the description into the form of having returned from it is mere rhetoric.'

Scott enjoyed the personal friendship of Viscount Melville, and still more of the younger members of the Dundas family. Robert Dundas was Lord Advocate at the time of Scott's appointment to the sheriffship of Selkirk. Another Robert Dundas, Lord Melville's son, had been one of Scott's admirers in the story-telling days of the High School, and their intimacy continued later on. In fact Arniston and Melville supplied Walter Scott with quite a troop of warm friends. An anecdote which connects Lord Melville and Scott may be given here, though it belongs to the end of the next decade (1810). Great changes had at that time been proposed in the Scottish law and judicature. They did not commend themselves to Scott's judgment. In fact, he wrote a remarkable essay in the _Edinburgh Annual Register_ against the rash attempt at a general innovation. He was at the same time uneasy in regard to the affairs of his Ballantyne publishing business, and fretting a little at the drudgery of his clerkship, which as yet yielded him no income. It was a crisis very like that in the life of Burns when he proposed to emigrate to Jamaica. Scott indeed seriously entertained the idea of going to India, as is clear from his letter to his brother Thomas in November 1810. 'I have no objection to tell you in confidence, that, were Dundas to go out Governor-General to India, and were he willing to take me with him in a good situation, I would not hesitate to pitch the Court of Session and the booksellers to the Devil, and try my fortune in another climate. But this is strictly _entre nous_.' Dundas, it seems, had on several occasions been spoken of as likely to be appointed Governor-General of India, and he had hinted at taking Scott with him. Fortunately the opportunity never occurred, the genius was not driven into exile, and the Court of Session and the booksellers obtained a temporary reprieve.

*CHAPTER XXIV*

Henry Erskine--His Ability and Wit--Tributes to his Character--Dismissal as Dean of Faculty--John Clerk--Reputation at the Bar--His Private Tastes--Art and Literature--Odd Habits--Anecdotes of Clerk and his Father.

The Hon. Henry Erskine, the acknowledged leader of the Scottish Bar, and one of the ablest and wittiest of men, was a son of the fifth Earl of Buchan, who died in 1767, and was succeeded in the title by his eldest son David. A younger brother of Henry's was equally illustrious at the English Bar as the undaunted defender first of Captain Baillie, who was indicted for libel at the instigation of Lord Sandwich in 1778: next in 1792 of Tom Paine, 'victorious needleman,' indicted for publishing the _Rights of Man_: and then in 1794 of Hardy, Horne Tooke, and Thelwall, accused of high treason. This was Thomas Erskine, who became Lord Chancellor of England and was raised to the peerage as Baron Erskine of Restormel in 1806. All the brothers were strongly attached to the Whig party. Under the coalition government of North and Fox in 1783 Henry Erskine was for a short time Lord Advocate, an office which he held again in 1806. His fame was spread throughout Scotland as the constant and disinterested defender of the helpless in distress.

'And all the oppress'd who wanted strength
Had his at their command.'

Like his brother, he was absolutely fearless in the exposure of wrong, and his name became the terror of every high-handed 'petty tyrant' in the land. It is said that a poor man in a remote part of the country, who was threatened with the law by his landlord for the purpose of compelling him to submit to some injustice, at once turned upon him with bold indignation and said, 'Ye dinna ken what ye're sayin', maister; there's no a man in a' Scotland need want a friend or fear an enemy sae lang as Harry Erskine is to the fore.' In his _Life of Jeffrey_ Lord Cockburn says of Erskine: 'His name can no sooner be mentioned than it suggests ideas of wit, with which, in many memories, the recollection of him is chiefly associated. A tall and rather slender figure, a face sparkling with vivacity, a clear sweet voice, and a general suffusion of elegance, gave him a striking and pleasing appearance.... He was the only one of the marked Edinburgh Whigs who was not received coldly in the private society of their opponents. Nothing was so sour as not to be sweetened by the glance, the voice, the gaiety, the beauty, of Henry Erskine.' Scott speaks of him in the same affectionate strain--'Henry Erskine was the best-natured man I ever knew: thoroughly a gentleman, and with but one fault--he could not say No. His wit was of the very kindest, best-humoured, and gayest sort that ever cheered society.' It is a matter for deep regret that the public career of so rare and eminent a man should have been dependent upon the ups and downs of politics. Even the post of Dean of the Faculty of Advocates, to which he had been elected for eight years in succession, was taken from him in 1796. He had presided at a public meeting to protest against the war with France. Such a defiance could not at such a time be overlooked, and the more powerful party employed their large majority to displace him. But even this was done without malevolence: the motion for dismissal--moved by Charles Hope--in no way disturbed the personal friendship between the two men.

John Clerk, raised to the Bench as Lord Eldin in his old age, was a worthy compeer of Erskine in his steadfast adherence to Whiggery at the cost of professional advancement. He was Solicitor-General in 1806, when Erskine was Lord Advocate. His fame was, therefore, won while he was at the Bar, of which, after his friend's retirement, he became the acknowledged leader. But his powerful sarcasm and his great gift of humour, combined with his remarkable appearance and popular principles, laid hold of the imagination of men and gained him quite a national reputation. It is of him that Cockburn says that the conditions of his private and his professional life almost amounted to the possession of two natures.

'A contracted limb, which made him pitch when he walked, and only admitted of his standing erect when he poised it in the air, added to the peculiarity of a figure with which so many other ideas of oddity were connected. Blue eyes, very bushy eyebrows, coarse grizzly hair, always in disorder, and firm, projecting features, made his face and head not unlike that of a thorough-bred shaggy terrier. It was a countenance of great thought and great decision.'

He was fond of literature, and his love of the fine arts grew to be a passion. He had great knowledge of painting, drew and etched cleverly, and occasionally modelled. His consulting-room was an extraordinary scene: 'Walls covered with books and pictures, of both of which he had a large collection; the floor encumbered by little ill-placed tables, each with a piece of old china on it; strange boxes, bits of sculpture, curious screens and chairs, cats and dogs (his special favourites), and all manner of trash, dead and living, and all in confusion;--John himself sitting in the midst of this museum,--in a red worsted nightcap, his crippled limb resting horizontally on a tripod stool,--and many pairs of spectacles and antique snuffboxes on a small table at his right hand; and there he sits,--perhaps dreaming awake,--probably descanting on some of his crotchets, and certainly abusing his friends the judges,--when recalled to the business in hand; but generally giving acute and vigorous advice.'

The peculiarities which made him a 'character' in the court are analysed at some length by Lord Cockburn. One was a habit of discussing, enforcing, and lauding his own virtues, quite without vanity or ostentation, but with quiet assurance, as if it were something he had no concern in. In the end he became fiercely resentful of opposition and suspicious of all who contradicted him. But what most of all made Clerk unique was his extraordinary zeal for his client. The public hugely enjoyed his passionate displays, when he defied and insulted not only his opponent in the case, but even the judges themselves when he found them adverse. Of course in this respect he was a privileged person: his fiery onslaughts being regarded as part of the show, and invariably relieved by some quaint bit of humour.

When he heard a lady on the street behind him point him out as the lame lawyer, he wheeled round and said, 'Nay, nay, madam, lame man if ye like, but not a lame lawyer, as the Fifteen (_i.e._ the Judges) know to their cost.' This ready retort happily illustrates all his peculiarities.

His father, John Clerk of Eldin, was the author of a celebrated work on Naval Tactics. In his old age he is reported to have said of himself and his son: 'I remember the time when people, seeing John limping on the street, used to ask, "what lame lad that was?" and the answer would be, "that's the son of Clerk of Eldin." But now, when I myself am passing, I hear them saying, "what auld, grey-headed man is that?" And the answer is, "that's the father o' John Clerk."'

*CHAPTER XXV*

Scott's Border 'Raids'--Shortreed--Scott's Circuit Work--Jedburgh Anecdotes--Edinburgh Days--Fortune's--The Theatre Royal--Oyster Parties--Social Functions--General Reading.

For many years after his first donning of the gown, Scott made use of every holiday for those 'raids' into Liddesdale and rambles through various parts of Scotland which long caused his father anxiety and vexation. It was not given to the old man, eager to see his son immersed in what he considered far more important pursuits, to foresee the marvellous results of these erratic tours. There were some, however, who could, and one of these was Robert Shortreed, Sheriff-Substitute of Roxburghshire, who was his guide and companion in all his Border raids. His remark will serve very well to sum up our reference to these expeditions, which are 'outwith' the limits of his Edinburgh life. 'He was _makin' himsell_ a' the time,' was Shortreed's emphatic comment; 'but he didna ken maybe what he was aboot till years had passed. At first he thought o' little, I daresay, but the queerness and the fun.'

Of his circuit work one or two anecdotes will suffice. He made his first appearance as counsel in a criminal case at the Jedburgh assizes, where he successfully defended a veteran poacher. When the verdict was pronounced, Scott whispered to his client, 'You're a lucky scoundrel.' 'I'm just o' your mind,' quoth the desperado, 'and I'll send ye a maukin (a hare) the morn, man.' Shortly after he defended a certain notorious housebreaker, who, however, in spite of counsel's strenuous efforts, was found guilty. The man, knowing that he could not escape, the evidence of his guilt being clear, yet felt grateful, in his way, to the young lawyer who had stood by him manfully and seen fair play. He requested the advocate to visit him in his cell, and Scott complied. When they were alone together in the _condemned cell_, the poor outcast said, 'I am very sorry, sir, that I have no fee to offer you--so let me beg your acceptance of two bits of advice which may be useful, perhaps, when you come to have a house of your own. I am done with practice, you see, and here is my legacy. Never keep a large watch-dog out of doors--we can always silence them cheaply--indeed if it be a _dog_, 'tis easier than whistling--but tie a little tight yelping terrier within; and secondly, put no trust in nice, clever, gimcrack locks--the only thing that bothers us is a huge old heavy one, no matter how simple the construction,--and the ruder and rustier the key, so much the better for the housekeeper.' Lockhart heard Scott tell the story some thirty years after at a Judge's dinner at Jedburgh, and he summed it up with a rhyme--'Ay, ay, my Lord,' (addressing Lord Meadowbank)--

'Yelping terrier, rusty key,
Was Walter Scott's best Jeddart fee.'

If his life in Edinburgh was not quite as enjoyable as the summer wanderings or the spring and autumn circuits, it certainly had its compensations. There was a good deal, no doubt, of what he describes in _Redgauntlet_ as 'sweeping the boards of the Parliament House with the skirts of his gown.' But then there was the consolation of the merry men of the Mountain, with mirth and youthful jollity, to which he could always contribute more than his share. There was plenty of claret-drinking at Bayle's, Fortune's, Walker's, the favourite resorts of the Bar. Claret was still the only drink, in spite of the growing enmity to France. It is a curious fact, however, that this feeling caused the Edinburgh Town Council in 1798 to pass a resolution that claret should not be drunk either at the King's Birthday orgy or any other civic feast. This 'self-denying ordinance' was not observed. In spite of conviviality and amusements a young man's expenses in Edinburgh in those days did not require to be great, when a good dinner at Fortune's would cost half-a-crown, and a bottle of claret a shilling. Fifty years before, in the days when a man brought his own fork and knife, and glass if he wanted one for his own separate use, one dined at an 'ordinary' in Edinburgh for fourpence, which even included all the small beer that was called for till the cloth was removed. Scott was a frequent visitor at the old Theatre Royal--'his dressing-table with old play-bills, etc.' This building stood in Shakespeare Square, a site now occupied by the General Post Office. It was eventually purchased by Mr. Henry Siddons, and there, under his management, the admirers of the drama 'had the satisfaction to witness the exertion of the unparalleled talents of Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Jordan, Mr. Braham, Mr. John Kemble, and others.' Oyster-parties were now very fashionable. They were quite decorous affairs, though not over-formal, and were attended and enjoyed by ladies as well as gentlemen.

One of these oyster-parties is described from a stranger's point of view by Topham in his _Letters from Edinburgh_: 'The shrine of festivity is nothing more than an oyster-cellar, and its votaries the first people in Edinburgh.... I was ushered into a large and brilliant company of both sexes, most of whom I had the honour of being acquainted with. The table was covered with dishes full of oysters, and pots of porter. By and by the table was cleared, and glass introduced. The ladies were now asked whether they would choose brandy or rum punch. I thought this question an odd one, but I was soon informed that no wine was sold here. The ladies, who always love what is best, fixed upon brandy punch, and a large bowl was immediately introduced. The conversation now became general and lively. A thousand things were hazarded and met with applause, to which the oddity of the scene gave propriety and which could have been produced in no other place.... In this little assembly there was more real happiness and mirth than in all the ceremonies and splendid meetings at Soho. When the company were tired of conversation, they began to dance reels, their favourite dance, which they perform with great agility and perseverance. One of the gentlemen, however, fell down in the most active part of it, and lamed himself. The dance was at an end. The ladies retired, and with them went all the mirth.'

Such scenes as these, along with attendance at 'assemblies,' concerts, and the general round of social engagements, filled up, without great fear of dulness, the leisure part of Scott's existence when in town. His duties were but light, and so was his income.[1] There is ample proof too that he found time to continue his literary studies, and kept himself, as the phrase is, 'abreast of current literature.' 'On his desk the new novel most in repute lay snugly intrenched beneath Stair's _Institutes_, or an open volume of _Decisions_.'

[1] The particulars given by Lockhart are: first year's practice, L24, 3s.; second year's, L57, 15s.; third, L84, 4s.; fourth, L90; and in his fifth year, that is from November 1796 to July 1797, he made L144, 10s.; of which L50 were fees from his father's chamber.

*CHAPTER XXVI*

The Edinburgh Environment--Talk of French Revolution--The 'Jacobins'--The Volunteers--Irish Row in the Theatre--Mrs. Barbauld's Visit--Taylor's _Lenore_--Scott's Version--Anecdote of the Skull--End of Love Affair--Reference in _Peveril of the Peak_.

To understand the environment of Scott about 1794, it is necessary to remember that people's minds and conversation were almost wholly occupied with the French Revolution. It affected every one, and met one everywhere. Of real sympathy with the French Republic there never was much anywhere in Britain. In Edinburgh, as in several other towns, there were a few persons who affected an admiration for the Republic and for everything French. These were called _Jacobins_, but they soon disappeared from public view. The name, however, continued to be used as a political nickname, and was applied freely to all who showed sympathy with the idea of reform. There was a belief, more or less vague, among the Tories and the wealthier class generally, that the working men were hostile to the Constitution. Altogether the feelings of loyal men, young and old, were strongly excited. In spring of 1794 Scott wrote to friends in Roxburghshire exulting in the 'good spirit' shown by the upper classes in Edinburgh. He was much excited over the enrolment of a regiment of volunteers, in which his brother Thomas was a grenadier, and from which he himself was excluded by his lameness. We can imagine him chafing in soul to be 'a mere spectator of the drills.' It was more than his hot, impulsive nature could endure. At last the happy inspiration came to him to propose the formation of a corps of volunteer light horse. The idea was popular, but some time was required to get it carried out.

Meantime an incident happened which vividly illustrates the highly-charged atmosphere of the time and Scott's romantic excess of loyalty. Some Irish medical students had set themselves to annoy the loyal people in the theatre by calling for seditious tunes and howling down the National Anthem. This foolish conduct was, of course, strongly resented by the audience, and especially by the young Tory lawyers. It was determined to give the Irishmen a lesson, and put a stop to the scandal. 'Scott' (says Lockhart) 'was conspicuous among the juvenile advocates and solicitors who on this grand night assembled in front of the pit, armed with stout cudgels, and determined to have _God save the King_ not only played without interruption but sung in full chorus by both company and audience. The Irishmen were ready at the first note of the anthem. They rose, clapped on their hats, and brandished their shillelaghs; a stern battle ensued, and after many heads had been cracked, the lawyers at length found themselves in possession of the field.' From a letter of Scott's written a few days after, it appears that five of the loyal youths had been bound over to keep the peace, and that he personally had knocked down three of the Democrats. His friends said he had 'signalised himself splendidly in this desperate fray.' On the occasion of the riots which took place in the course of this troubled year he was active among the special constables sworn in to guard the town.

In the autumn of 1795 Mrs. Barbauld was on a visit to Edinburgh. One evening this distinguished writer read to a party in the house of Dugald Stewart an unpublished poem by William Taylor, a translation of Burger's ballad of _Lenore_. Scott was not one of the company. He seems to have been away on one of his usual tours, but on his return in the course of a few weeks, a friend gave him, as best he could, an account of the performance. Scott was deeply interested, and never rested till he had procured a copy of the original German. After reading the poem, he told his friend, Miss Cranstoun, that he was going to write a translation of it himself. He was greatly excited over the matter, and finished his task at one sitting the same night. In the morning, before breakfast, he took his production to Miss Cranstoun, who was not only delighted but astonished. Lockhart quotes from one of her letters, 'Upon my word, Walter Scott is going to turn out a poet--something of a cross, I think, between Burns and Gray.' Sir Alexander Wood, to whom also he showed the poem the same day, retained a vivid recollection of the high-strung enthusiasm to which he had worked himself up by dwelling on the wild, unearthly imagery of the ballad. He tells how Scott must needs provide himself with symbols, a skull and cross-bones, which they procured from Dr. John Bell, and which Scott set up as trophies on the top of his little book-case. When Wood visited him, after many years of absence from this country, he saw them again similarly placed in his dressing-room at Abbotsford.

Miss Cranstoun, afterwards Countess of Purgstall, told Captain Basil Hall on her deathbed that she and William Erskine got a few copies of the _Lenore_ printed. She was doing her best for Scott in his courtship of Miss Stuart, and thought the verses might work in his favour. She sent a copy, 'richly bound and blazoned,' to Scott, who was in the country at a house where Miss Stuart was also a visitor. This was really Scott's first publication. The verses were much admired by his friends, but this was all. His pursuit of Miss Stuart presently came to an end, on the announcement of her engagement to Forbes. A most interesting glimpse into the real inwardness of this affair is afforded in _Peveril of the Peak_, written twenty-six years after. The poet thus soberly moralises, _non sine desiderio_:--'The period at which love is formed for the first time, and felt most strongly, is seldom that at which there is much prospect of its being brought to a happy issue. The state of artificial society opposes many complicated obstructions to early marriages; and the chance is very great that such obstacles prove insurmountable. In fine, there are few men who do not look back in secret to some period of their youth, at which a sincere and early affection was repulsed, or betrayed, or became abortive from opposing circumstances. It is these little passages of secret history which leave a tinge of romance in every bosom, scarce permitting us, even in the most busy or the most advanced period of life, to listen with total indifference to a tale of true love.'

*CHAPTER XXVII*

Friendship with Skene of Rubislaw--Skene's Account of the Edinburgh Light Horse--'Earl Walter'--Marriage of Walter Scott and Charlotte Carpenter--The Edinburgh Home--Edinburgh Friends--The Cottage at Lasswade.

Scott's German studies brought him at this time one of the most valued friendships of his life. Mr. Skene of Rubislaw, having resided several years in Saxony, and having a similar fondness for the fresh and natural literature of Germany, entered into Scott's ideas with zest, and assisted him in his struggles with the language. The two soon drew together, and became intimate friends. Skene wrote afterwards with pride of this friendship, which during nearly forty years 'never sustained even a casual chill,' and he testified, like all others who knew him, that 'never in the whole progress of his varied life, could I perceive the slightest shade of variance from that simplicity of character with which he impressed me on the first hour of our meeting.' Skene was one of those who joined heartily in promoting the volunteer cavalry movement, and of this affair he has given some interesting particulars. 'The London Light Horse had set the example, but in truth it was to Scott's ardour that this force in the North owed its origin. Unable, by reason of his lameness, to serve amongst his friends on foot, he had nothing for it but to rouse the spirit of the moss-trooper with which he readily inspired all who possessed the means of substituting the sabre for the musket.' In February 1797 a meeting was held, and an offer was sent to the Government which was at once accepted. The organisation of the corps was then begun. The Major-Commandant was Maitland of Rankeillor. Skene was a cornet: Scott was quartermaster. 'The part of quartermaster was purposely selected for him, that he might be spared the rough usage of the ranks; but, notwithstanding his infirmity, he had a remarkably firm seat on horseback, and in all situations a fearless one: no fatigue ever seemed too much for him, and his zeal and animation served to sustain the enthusiasm of the whole corps, while his ready _mot a rire_ kept up, in all, a degree of good-humour and relish for the service, without which the toil and privations of long _daily_ drills would not easily have been submitted to by such a body of gentlemen. At every interval of exercise, the order _sit at ease_ was the signal for the quartermaster to lead the squadron to merriment; every eye was intuitively turned on "Earl Walter," as he was familiarly called by his associates of that date, and his ready joke seldom failed to raise the ready laugh.... His habitual humour was the great charm, and at the daily mess that reigned supreme.' The gallant squadron continued its daily drills all the spring and summer of 1797, and even spent some weeks under canvas at Musselburgh. Most of the troopers being professional men, they had their drill at five in the morning,--an act of heroic self-denial which speaks volumes for the spirit evoked by 'haughty Gaul's' threats of invasion. By the end of the year England had established her supremacy on sea, all fear of an invasion was dissipated, and the volunteers' occupation for the time was gone.[1]

[1] See, in connection with the volunteer episode, Scott's 'War Song of the Royal Edinburgh Light Dragoons,' written in 1802: also Introduction to Canto v. of _Marmion_.

On the 24th of December of this year Scott was married in St. Mary's Church, Carlisle, to Charlotte Margaret Carpenter, whom he had met for the first time when on a tour during that autumn among the English Lakes. She was the daughter of Jean Charpentier, a French royalist, who had died about the beginning of the Revolution. The widow and her daughter took refuge in England, where Charpentier had, in his first alarm at the outbreak of the revolution, invested a sum of L4000. In a letter to his mother Scott speaks of his wife's fortune as then L500 a year, but precarious as to the amount, being partly dependent on her brother, who held a high office in Madras. With this added to his own earnings, he says, 'I have little doubt we will be enabled to hold the rank in society which my family and situation entitle me to fill.' Their married life in Edinburgh began in a lodging in George Street, from which they removed, as soon as it was ready for their reception, to a house in South Castle Street. Mrs. Scott, who was lively and fond of society, soon found herself the centre of a most interesting social life. Indeed 'those humble days' were perhaps the happiest of all. 'Mrs. Scott's arrival' (says Lockhart) 'was welcomed with unmingled delight by the brothers of _the Mountain_. The officers of the Light Horse, too, established a club among themselves, supping once a week at each other's houses in rotation. The lady thus found two somewhat different, but both highly agreeable circles ready to receive her with cordial kindness; and the evening hours passed in a round of innocent gaiety, all the arrangements being conducted in a simple and inexpensive fashion, suitable to young people whose days were mostly laborious, and very few of their purses heavy. Scott and Erskine had always been fond of the theatre; the pretty bride was passionately so--and I doubt if they ever spent a week in Edinburgh without indulging themselves in this amusement. But regular dinners and crowded assemblies were in those years quite unthought of.'

In the summer of 1798 began the series of summer sojourns at Lasswade, on the Esk, which brought to Scott important additions to his list of friends. Among his neighbours in this romantic district, which had been his favourite haunt in boyish rambles, were Henry Mackenzie, the 'Man of Feeling,' the Clerks of Pennycuick, and Lord Woodhouselee, with all of whom he was already familiar. But it was at Lasswade that he first 'formed intimacies, even more important in their results, with the noble families of Melville and Buccleuch, both of whom have castles in the same valley.'

'Who knows not Melville's beechy grove,
And Roslin's rocky glen;
Dalkeith, which all the virtues love,
And classic Hawthornden?'

It is of the Esk that he says in the same poem, _The Grey Brother_,

'Thro' woods more fair no stream more sweet
Rolls to the eastern main.'

An interesting notice appeared recently in a local paper regarding Scott and his family's connection with St. George's Episcopal Church in York Place, Edinburgh. He seems to have become a member of what he (in the person of Paulus Pleydell) calls 'the suffering and Episcopal Church of Scotland--the shadow of a shade now' after his marriage had set him free from the customs of George Square. The Scott family pew in St. George's was No. 81, afterwards No. 85, and the article states that this fact is attested on a brass plate fixed on the pew, as well as by a written statement contained in a closed glass case hung inside the church porch. It was the incumbent of St. George's that officiated at the marriage of Sophia Scott to John Gibson Lockhart. The worshippers in the quaint old church to this day, it is said, take great pride in the memory of the most illustrious member of their historic flock.

*CHAPTER XXVIII*