Chapter VII: {p.169} (2)

Another resting-place was Craighall, in Perthshire, the seat of the Rattrays, a family related to Mr. Clerk, who accompanied him. From the position of this striking place, as Mr. Clerk at once perceived, and as the author afterwards confessed to him, that of the _Tully-Veolan_ was very faithfully copied; though in the description of the house itself, and its gardens, many features were adopted from Bruntsfield and Ravelston.[108] Mr. Clerk has told me that he went through the first chapters of Waverley without more than a vague suspicion of the new novelist; but that when he read the arrival at Tully-Veolan, his suspicion was at once converted into certainty, and he handed the book to a common friend of his and the author's, saying, "This is Scott's--and I'll lay {p.195} a bet you'll find such and such things in the next chapter." I hope Mr. Clerk will forgive me for mentioning _the_ particular circumstance that first flashed the conviction on his mind. In the course of a ride from Craighall they had both become considerably fagged and heated, and Clerk, seeing the smoke of a _clachan_ a little way before them, ejaculated--"How agreeable if we should here fall in with one of those signposts where a red lion predominates over a punch-bowl!" The phrase happened to tickle Scott's fancy--he often introduced it on similar occasions afterwards--and at the distance of twenty years Mr. Clerk was at no loss to recognize an old acquaintance in the "huge bear" which "predominates" over the stone basin in the courtyard of Baron Bradwardine.

[Footnote 108: _Waverley_, chap. viii.]

I believe the longest stay he made this autumn was at Meigle in Forfarshire, the seat of Patrick Murray of Simprim, a gentleman whose enthusiastic passion for antiquities, and especially military antiquities, had peculiarly endeared him both to Scott and Clerk. Here Adam Ferguson, too, was of the party; and I have often heard them each and all dwell on the thousand scenes of adventure and merriment which diversified that visit. In the village churchyard, close beneath Mr. Murray's gardens, tradition still points out the tomb of Queen Guenever; and the whole district abounds in objects of historical interest. Amidst them they spent their wandering days, while their evenings passed in the joyous festivity of a wealthy young bachelor's establishment, or sometimes under the roofs of neighbors less refined than their host, the _Balmawhapples_ of the Braes of Angus. From Meigle they made a trip to Dunnottar Castle, the ruins of the huge old fortress of the Earls Marischall, and it was in the churchyard of that place that Scott then saw for the first and last time Robert Paterson, the living _Old Mortality_. He and Mr. Walker, the minister of the parish, found the poor man refreshing the epitaphs on {p.196} the tombs of certain Cameronians who had fallen under the oppressions of James the Second's brief insanity. Being invited into the manse after dinner to take a glass of whiskey-punch, "to which he was supposed to have no objections," he joined the minister's party accordingly; but "he was in bad humor," says Scott, "and, to use his own phrase, had no freedom for conversation. His spirit had been sorely vexed by hearing, in a certain Aberdonian kirk, the psalmody directed by a pitch-pipe or some similar instrument, which was to Old Mortality the abomination of abominations."

It was also while he had his headquarters at Meigle at this time that Scott visited for the first time _Glammis_, the residence of the Earls of Strathmore, by far the noblest specimen of the real feudal castle, entire and perfect, that had as yet come under his inspection. What its aspect was when he first saw it, and how grievously he lamented the change it had undergone when he revisited it some years afterwards, he has recorded in one of the most striking passages that I think ever came from his pen. Commenting, in his Essay on Landscape Gardening (1828), on the proper domestic ornaments of the Castle _Pleasaunce_, he has this beautiful burst of lamentation over the barbarous innovations of _the Capability men_:--"Down went many a trophy of old magnificence, courtyard, ornamented enclosure, fosse, avenue, barbican, and every external muniment of battled wall and flanking tower, out of the midst of which the ancient dome, rising high above all its characteristic accompaniments, and seemingly girt round by its appropriate defences, which again circled each other in their different gradations, looked, as it should, the queen and mistress of the surrounding country. It was thus that the huge old tower of Glammis, 'whose birth tradition notes not,' once showed its lordly head above seven circles (if I remember aright) of defensive boundaries, through which the friendly guest was admitted, and at each of which a suspicious {p.197} person was unquestionably put to his answer. A disciple of Kent had the cruelty to render this splendid old mansion (the more modern part of which was the work of Inigo Jones) more _parkish_, as he was pleased to call it; to raze all those exterior defences, and bring his mean and paltry gravel-walk up to the very door from which, deluded by the name, one might have imagined Lady Macbeth (with the form and features of Siddons) issuing forth to receive King Duncan. It is thirty years and upwards since I have seen Glammis, but I have not yet forgotten or forgiven the atrocity which, under pretence of improvement, deprived that lordly place of its appropriate accompaniments,

'Leaving an ancient dome and towers like these
Beggar'd and outraged.'"[109]

[Footnote 109: Wordsworth's Sonnet on Neidpath Castle.]

The night he spent at the yet unprofaned Glammis in 1793 was, as he elsewhere says, one of the "_two_ periods distant from each other" at which he could recollect experiencing "that degree of superstitious awe which his countrymen call _eerie_."

"The heavy pile," he writes, "contains much in its appearance,
and in the traditions connected with it, impressive to the
imagination. It was the scene of the murder of a Scottish King of
great antiquity--not indeed the gracious Duncan, with whom the
name naturally associates itself, but Malcolm II. It contains
also a curious monument of the peril of feudal times, being a
secret chamber, the entrance of which, by the law or custom of
the family, must only be known to three persons at once, namely,
the Earl of Strathmore, his heir-apparent, and any third person
whom they may take into their confidence. The extreme antiquity
of the building is vouched by the thickness of the walls, and the
wild straggling arrangement of the accommodation within doors. As
the late Earl seldom resided at Glammis, it was when I was there
but half furnished, and that with movables of great antiquity,
which, with the pieces of chivalric armor hanging on the walls,
greatly contributed to the general effect of the whole. After a
very hospitable reception from {p.198} the late Peter Proctor,
seneschal of the castle, I was conducted to my apartment in a
distant part of the building. I must own, that when I heard door
after door shut, after my conductor had retired, I began to
consider myself as too far from the living, and somewhat too near
the dead. We had passed through what is called _the King's Room_,
a vaulted apartment, garnished with stags' antlers and other
trophies of the chase, and said by tradition to be the spot of
Malcolm's murder, and I had an idea of the vicinity of the castle
chapel. In spite of the truth of history, the whole night scene
in Macbeth's Castle rushed at once upon me, and struck my mind
more forcibly than even when I have seen its terrors represented
by John Kemble and his inimitable sister. In a word, I
experienced sensations which, though not remarkable for timidity
or superstition, did not fail to affect me to the point of being
disagreeable, while they were mingled at the same time with a
strange and indescribable sort of pleasure, the recollection of
which affords me gratification at this moment."[110]

[Footnote 110: _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, p.
398.]

He alludes here to the hospitable reception which had preceded the mingled sensations of this _eerie_ night; but one of his notes on Waverley touches this not unimportant part of the story more distinctly; for we are there informed that the _silver bear_ of Tully-Veolan, "_the poculum potatorium_ of the valiant baron," had its prototype at Glammis--a massive beaker of silver, double gilt, moulded into the form of a _lion_, the name and bearing of the Earls of Strathmore, and containing about an English pint of wine. "The author," he says, "ought perhaps to be ashamed of recording that he had the honor of swallowing the contents of _the lion_; and the recollection of the feat suggested the story of the Bear of Bradwardine."

From this pleasant tour, so rich in its results, Scott returned in time to attend the autumnal assizes at Jedburgh, on which occasion he made his first appearance as counsel in a criminal court; and had the satisfaction of helping a veteran poacher and sheep-stealer to escape through some of the meshes of the law. "You're a lucky {p.199} scoundrel," Scott whispered to his client, when the verdict was pronounced. "I'm just o' your mind," quoth the desperado, "and I'll send ye a maukin[111] the morn, man." I am not sure whether it was at these assizes or the next in the same town, that he had less success in the case of a certain notorious housebreaker. The man, however, was well aware that no skill could have baffled the clear evidence against him, and was, after his fashion, grateful for such exertions as had been made in his behalf. He requested the young advocate to visit him once more before he left the place. Scott's curiosity induced him to accept this invitation, and his friend, as soon as they were alone together in the _condemned cell_, 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 watchdog 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." I remember hearing him tell this story some thirty years after at a Judges' dinner at Jedburgh, and he summed it up with a rhyme--"Ay, ay, my lord," (I think he addressed his friend Lord Meadowbank)--

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

[Footnote 111: A hare.]

At these, or perhaps the next assizes, he was also counsel in an appeal case touching a cow which his client had sold as sound, but which the court below (the sheriff) had pronounced to have what is called _the cliers_--a disease analogous to glanders in a horse. In opening his case {p.200} before Sir David Rae, Lord Eskgrove, Scott stoutly maintained the healthiness of the cow, who, as he said, had merely a cough. "Stop there," quoth the judge; "I have had plenty of healthy kye in my time, but I never heard of are of them coughing. A coughin' cow!--that will never do. Sustain the sheriff's judgment, and decern."

A day or two after this, Scott and his old companion were again on their way into Liddesdale, and "just," says the Shortreed Memorandum, "as we were passing by Singdon, we saw a grand herd o' cattle a' feeding by the roadside, and a fine young bullock, the best in the whole lot, was in the midst of them, coughing lustily. 'Ah,' said Scott, 'what a pity for my client that old Eskgrove had not taken Singdon on his way to the town. That bonny creature would have saved us--

"A Daniel come to judgment, yea a Daniel;
O wise young judge, how I do honor thee!"'"

TO PATRICK MURRAY OF SIMPRIM, ESQ., MEIGLE.

ROSEBANK, near Kelso, September 13, 1793.

DEAR MURRAY,--I would have let fly an epistle at you long ere
this, had I not known I should have some difficulty in hitting so
active a traveller, who may in that respect be likened unto a
bird of passage. Were you to follow the simile throughout, I
might soon expect to see you winging your way to the southern
climes, instead of remaining to wait the approach of winter in
the colder regions of the north. Seriously, I have been in weekly
hopes of hearing of your arrival in the Merse, and have been
qualifying myself by constant excursions to be your Border
_Cicerone_.

As the facetious Linton will no doubt make one of your party, I
have got by heart for his amusement a reasonable number of Border
ballads, most of them a little longer than Chevy Chase, which I
intend to throw in at intervals, just by way of securing my share
in the conversation. {p.201} As for _you_, as I know your
picturesque turn, I can be in this country at no loss how to
cater for your entertainment, especially if you would think of
moving before the fall of the leaf. I believe with respect to the
real _To Kalon_, few villages can surpass that near which I am
now writing; and as to your rivers, it is part of my creed that
the Tweed and Teviot yield to none in the world, nor do I fear
that even in your eyes, which have been feasted on classic
ground, they will greatly sink in comparison with the Tiber or
Po. Then for antiquities, it is true we have got no temples or
heathenish fanes to show; but if substantial old castles and
ruined abbeys will serve in their stead, they are to be found in
abundance. So much for Linton and you. As for Mr. Robertson,[112]
I don't know quite so well how to bribe him. We had indeed lately
a party of strollers here, who might in some degree have
entertained him, _i. e._, in case he felt no compassion for the
horrid and tragical murders which they nightly committed,--but
now, _Alas, Sir! the players be gone_.

I am at present very uncertain as to my own motions, but I still
hope to be northwards again before the commencement of the
session, which (d--n it) is beginning to draw nigher than I could
wish. I would esteem myself greatly favored by a few lines
informing me of your motions when they are settled; since
visiting you, should I go north, or attending you if you come
this way, are my two grand plans of amusement.

What think you of our politics now? Had I been within reach of
you, or any of the chosen, I suspect the taking of Valenciennes
would have been sustained as a reason for examining the contents
of t'other bottle, which has too often suffered for slighter
pretences. I have little {p.202} doubt, however, that by the
time we meet in glory (terrestrial glory, I mean) Dunkirk will be
an equally good apology. Adieu, my good friend; remember me
kindly to Mr. Robertson, to Linton, and to the Baronet. I
understand both these last intend seeing you soon. I am very
sincerely yours,

WALTER SCOTT.

[Footnote 112: Dr. Robertson was tutor to the Laird of
Simprim, and afterwards minister of Meigle--a man of great
worth, and an excellent scholar. In his younger days he was
fond of the theatre, and encouraged and directed _Simprim,
Grogg, Linton & Co._ in their histrionic
diversions.--(1839.)]

The winter of 1793-94 appears to have been passed like the preceding one: the German class resumed their sittings; Scott spoke in his debating club on the questions of Parliamentary Reform and the Inviolability of the Person of the First Magistrate, which the circumstances of the time had invested with extraordinary interest, and in both of which he no doubt took the side adverse to the principles of the English, and the practice of the French Liberals. His love-affair continued on exactly the same footing as before;--and for the rest, like the young heroes in Redgauntlet, he "swept the boards of the Parliament House with the skirts of his gown; laughed, and made others laugh; drank claret at Bayle's, Fortune's, and Walker's, and eat oysters in the Covenant Close." On his desk "the new novel most in repute lay snugly intrenched beneath Stair's Institute, or an open volume of Decisions;" and his dressing-table was littered with "old play-bills, letters respecting a meeting of the Faculty, Rules of the Speculative, Syllabus of Lectures--all the miscellaneous contents of a young advocate's pocket, which contains everything but briefs and bank-notes." His professional occupation was still very slender; but he took a lively interest in the proceedings of the criminal court, and more especially in those arising out of the troubled state of the public feeling as to politics.

In the spring of 1794 I find him writing to his friends in Roxburghshire with great exultation about the "good spirit" manifesting itself among the upper classes of the citizens of Edinburgh, and, above all, the organization of a {p.203} regiment of volunteers, in which his brother Thomas, now a fine active young man, equally handsome and high-spirited, was enrolled as a grenadier, while, as he remarks, his own "unfortunate infirmity" condemned him to be "a mere spectator of the drills." In the course of the same year, the plan of a corps of volunteer light horse was started; and, if the recollection of Mr. Skene be accurate, the suggestion originally proceeded from Scott himself, who certainly had a principal share in its subsequent success. He writes to his uncle at Rosebank, requesting him to be on the lookout for a "strong gelding, such as would suit a stalwart dragoon;" and intimating his intention to part with his collection of Scottish coins, rather than not be mounted to his mind. The corps, however, was not organized for some time; and in the mean while he had an opportunity of displaying his zeal in a manner which Captain Scott by no means considered as so respectable.

A party of Irish medical students began, towards the end of April, to make themselves remarkable in the Edinburgh Theatre, where they mustered in a particular corner of the pit, and lost no opportunity of insulting the Loyalists of the boxes, by calling for revolutionary tunes, applauding every speech that could bear a seditious meaning, and drowning the national anthem in howls and hootings. The young Tories of the Parliament House resented this license warmly, and after a succession of minor disturbances, the quarrel was, put to the issue of a regular trial by combat. Scott 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 shillelahs; a stern battle ensued, and after many a head had been cracked, the {p.204} Loyalists at length found themselves in possession of the field. In writing to Simprim a few days afterwards, Scott says--"You will be glad to hear that the _affair_ of Saturday passed over without any worse consequence to the Loyalists than that five, including your friend and humble servant Colonel Grogg, have been bound over to the peace, and obliged to give bail for their good behavior, which, you may believe, was easily found. The said Colonel had no less than three broken heads laid to his charge by as many of the Democrats." Alluding to Simprim's then recent appointment as Captain in the Perthshire Fencibles (Cavalry), he adds--"Among my own military (I mean mock-military) achievements, let me not fail to congratulate you and the country on the real character you have agreed to accept. Remember; in case of real action, I shall beg the honor of admission to your troop as a volunteer."

One of the theatrical party, Sir Alexander Wood, whose notes lie before me, says--"Walter was certainly our Coryphæus, and signalized himself splendidly in this desperate fray; and nothing used afterwards to afford him more delight than dramatizing its incidents. Some of the most efficient of our allies were persons previously unknown to him, and of several of these whom he had particularly observed, he never lost sight afterwards. There were, I believe, cases in which they owed most valuable assistance in life to his recollection of _the playhouse row_." To this last part of Sir Alexander's testimony I can also add mine; and I am sure my worthy friend, Mr. Donald M'Lean, W. S., will gratefully confirm it. When that gentleman became candidate for some office in the Exchequer, about 1822 or 1823, and Sir Walter's interest was requested on his behalf,--"To be sure!" said he; "did not he sound the charge upon Paddy? Can I ever forget Donald's _Sticks by G----t_?"[113]

[Footnote 113: According to a friendly critic, one of the
Liberals exclaimed, as the _row_ was thickening, "No
Blows!"--and Donald, suiting the action to the word,
responded, "Plows by ----!"--(1839.)]

On {p.205} the 9th May, 1794, Charles Kerr of Abbotrule writes to him--"I was last night at Rosebank, and your uncle told me he had been giving you a very long and very sage lecture upon the occasion of these Edinburgh squabbles; I am happy to hear they are now at an end. They were rather of the serious cast, and though you encountered them with spirit and commendable resolution, I, with your uncle, should wish to see your abilities conspicuous on another theatre." The same gentleman, in his next letter (June 3), congratulates Scott on having "seen _his name in the newspaper_," namely, as counsel for another Roxburghshire laird, by designation _Bedrule_. Such, no doubt, was Abbotrule's "other theatre."

Scott spent the long vacation of this year chiefly in Roxburghshire, but again visited Keir, Cambusmore, and others of his friends in Perthshire, and came to Edinburgh, early in September, to be present at the trials of Watt and Downie, on a charge of high treason. Watt seems to have tendered his services to Government as a spy upon the Society of the Friends of the People in Edinburgh, but ultimately, considering himself as underpaid, to have embraced, to their wildest extent, the schemes he had become acquainted with in the course of this worthy occupation; and he, and one Downie, a mechanic, were now arraigned as having taken a prominent part in the organizing of a plot for a general rising in Edinburgh, to seize the Castle, the Bank, the persons of the Judges, and proclaim a Provisional Republican Government; all which was supposed to have been arranged in concert with the Hardies, Thelwalls, Holcrofts, and so forth, who were a few weeks later brought to trial in London for an alleged conspiracy to "summon delegates to a National Convention, with a view to subvert the Government, and levy war upon the King." The English prisoners were acquitted, but Watt and Downie were not so fortunate. Scott writes as follows to his aunt, Miss Christian Rutherford, then at Ashestiel, in Selkirkshire:--

ADVOCATES' {p.206} LIBRARY, 5th September, 1794.

My dear Miss Christy will perceive, from the date of this
epistle, that I have accomplished my purpose of coming to town to
be present at the trial of the Edinburgh traitors. I arrived here
on Monday evening from Kelso, and was present at Watt's trial on
Wednesday, which displayed to the public the most atrocious and
deliberate plan of villainy which has occurred, perhaps, in the
annals of Great Britain. I refer you for particulars to the
papers, and shall only add, that the equivocations and perjury of
the witnesses (most of them being accomplices in what they called
the _great plan_) set the abilities of Mr. Anstruther, the King's
counsel, in the most striking point of view. The patience and
temper with which he tried them on every side, and screwed out of
them the evidence they were so anxious to conceal, showed much
knowledge of human nature; and the art with which he arranged the
information he received, made the trial, upon the whole, the most
interesting I ever was present at. Downie's trial is just now
going forwards over my head; but as the evidence is just the same
as formerly brought against Watt, is not so interesting. You will
easily believe that on Wednesday my curiosity was too much
excited to retire at an early hour, and, indeed, I sat in the
Court from seven in the morning till two the next morning; but as
I had provided myself with some cold meat and a bottle of wine, I
contrived to support the fatigue pretty well. It strikes me, upon
the whole, that the plan of these miscreants might, from its very
desperate and improbable nature, have had no small chance of
succeeding, at least as far as concerned cutting off the
soldiers, and obtaining possession of the banks, besides shedding
the blood of the most distinguished inhabitants. There, I think,
the evil must have stopped, unless they had further support than
has yet appeared. Stooks was the prime mover of the whole, and
the person who supplied the money; and our theatrical
disturbances are found to have {p.207} formed one link of the
chain. So, I have no doubt, Messrs. Stooks, Burk, etc., would
have found out a new way of paying old debts. The _people_ are
perfectly quiescent upon this grand occasion, and seem to
interest themselves very little in the fate of their _soi-disant
friends_. The Edinburgh volunteers make a respectable and
formidable appearance already. They are exercised four hours
almost every day, with all the rigor of military discipline. The
grenadier company consists entirely of men above six feet. So
much for public news.

As to home intelligence--you know that my mother and Anne had
projected a _jaunt_ to Inverleithen; fate, however, had destined
otherwise. The intended day of departure was ushered in by a most
complete deluge, to which, and the consequent disappointment, our
proposed travellers did not submit with that Christian meekness
which might have beseemed. In short, both within and without
doors, it was a _devil_ of a day. The second was like unto it.
The third day came a post, a killing post,[114] and in the shape
of a letter from this fountain of health, informed us no lodgings
were to be had there; so, whatever be its virtues, or the
grandeur attending a journey to its streams, we might as well
have proposed to visit the river Jordan, or the walls of Jericho.
Not so our heroic John; he has been arrived here for some time
(much the same as when he went away), and has formed the
desperate resolution of riding out with me to Kelso to-morrow
morning. I have stayed a day longer, waiting for the arrival of a
pair of new boots and buckskin etcs., in which the soldier is to
be equipt. I ventured to hint the convenience of a roll of
diaculum plaister, and a box of the most approved horseman-salve,
in which recommendation our doctor[115] warmly joined. His
impatience for the journey has been somewhat cooled by some
inclination yesterday {p.208} displayed by his charger (a pony
belonging to Anne) to lay his warlike rider in the dust--a
purpose he had nearly effected. He next mounted Queen Mab, who
treated him with little more complaisance, and, in carters'
phrase, would neither _hap_ nor _wynd_ till she got rid of him.
Seriously, however, if Jack has not returned covered with
laurels, a crop which the Rock[116] no longer produces, he has
brought back all his own good-nature, and a manner considerably
improved, so that he is at times very agreeable company. Best
love to Miss R., Jean, and Anne (I hope they are improved at the
battledore), and the boys, not forgetting my friend Archy, though
least not last in my remembrance. Best compliments to the
Colonel.[117] I shall remember with pleasure Ashestiel
hospitality, and not without a desire to put it to the proof next
year. Adieu, ma chère amie. When you write, direct to Rosebank,
and I shall be a good boy, and write you another sheet of
nonsense soon. All friends here well. Ever yours affectionately,

WALTER SCOTT.

[Footnote 114:

"The third day comes a frost, a killing frost."
_King Henry VIII_.]

[Footnote 115: Dr. Rutherford.]

[Footnote 116: Captain John Scott had been for some time with
his regiment at Gibraltar.]

[Footnote 117: Colonel Russell of Ashestiel, married to a
sister of Scott's mother.]

The letter, of which the following is an extract, must have been written in October or November--Scott having been in Liddesdale, and again in Perthshire, during the interval. It is worth quoting for the little domestic allusions with which it concludes, and which every one who has witnessed the discipline of a Presbyterian family of the old school, at the time of preparation for _the Communion_, will perfectly understand. Scott's father, though on particular occasions he could permit himself, like Saunders Fairford, to play the part of a good Amphitryon, was habitually ascetic in his habits. I have heard his son tell, that it was common with him, if any one observed that the soup was good, to taste it again, and say,--"Yes, {p.209} it is too good, bairns," and dash a tumbler of cold water into his plate. It is easy, therefore, to imagine with what rigidity he must have enforced the ultra-Catholic severities which marked, in those days, the yearly or half-yearly _retreat_ of the descendants of John Knox.

TO MISS CHRISTIAN RUTHERFORD, ASHESTIEL.

Previous to my ramble, I stayed a single day in town, to witness
the exit of the _ci-devant_ Jacobin, Mr. Watt. It was a very
solemn scene, but the pusillanimity of the unfortunate victim was
astonishing, considering the boldness of his nefarious plans. It
is matter of general regret that his associate Downie should have
received a reprieve, which, I understand, is now prolonged for a
second month, I suppose to wait the issue of the London trials.
Our volunteers are now completely embodied, and, notwithstanding
the heaviness of their dress, have a martial and striking
appearance. Their accuracy in firing and manoevring excites the
surprise of military gentlemen, who are the best judges of their
merit in that way. Tom is very proud of the grenadier company, to
which he belongs, which has indisputably carried off the palm
upon all public occasions. And now, give me leave to ask you
whether the approaching _winter_ does not remind you of your snug
parlor in George's Street? Do you not feel a little uncomfortable
when you see

"how bleak and bare
He wanders o'er the heights of _Yair_?"

Amidst all this regard for your accommodation, don't suppose I am
devoid of a little self-interest when I press your speedy return
to Auld Reekie, for I am really tiring excessively to see the
said parlor again inhabited, Besides that, I want the assistance
of your eloquence to convince my honored father that Nature did
not mean me either for a vagabond or _travelling merchant_, when
she honored {p.210} me with the wandering propensity lately so
conspicuously displayed. I saw Dr. yesterday, who is well. I did
not choose to intrude upon the little lady, this being sermon
week; for the same reason we are looking very religious and very
sour at home. However, it is with _some folk_ selon les règles,
that in proportion as they are pure themselves, they are entitled
to render uncomfortable those whom they consider as less perfect.
Best love to Miss R., cousins and friends in general, and believe
me ever most sincerely yours,

WALTER SCOTT.

In July, 1795, a young lad, James Niven by name, who had served for some time with excellent character on board a ship of war, and been discharged in consequence of a wound which disabled one of his hands, had the misfortune, in firing off a toy cannon in one of the narrow wynds of Edinburgh, to kill on the spot David Knox, one of the attendants of the Court of Session; a button, or some other hard substance, having been accidentally inserted with his cartridge. Scott was one of his counsel when he was arraigned for murder, and had occasion to draw up a written argument or _information_ for the prisoner, from which I shall make a short quotation. Considered as a whole, the production seems both crude and clumsy, but the following passages have, I think, several traces of the style of thought and language which he afterwards made familiar to the world:--

"Murder," he writes, "or the premeditated slaughter of a citizen,
is a crime of so deep and scarlet a dye, that there is scarce a
nation to be found in which it has not, from the earliest period,
been deemed worthy of a capital punishment. 'He who sheddeth
man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed,' is a general maxim
which has received the assent of all times and countries. But it
is equally certain that even the rude legislators of former days
soon perceived that the death of one man may be occasioned by
another, without the slayer himself being the proper object of
the _lex talionis_. Such an accident may happen {p.211} either
by the carelessness of the killer, or through that excess and
vehemence of passion to which humanity is incident. In either
case, though blamable, he ought not to be confounded with the
cool and deliberate assassin, and the species of criminality
attaching itself to those acts has been distinguished by the term
_dolus_, in opposition to the milder term _culpa_. Again, there
may be a third species of homicide, in which the perpetrator
being the innocent and unfortunate cause of casual misfortune,
becomes rather an object of compassion than punishment.

"Admitting there may have been a certain degree of culpability in
the panel's conduct, still there is one circumstance which pleads
strongly in his favor, so as to preclude all presumption of
_dole_. This is the frequent practice, whether proper or
improper, of using this amusement in the streets. It is a matter
of public notoriety, that boys of all ages and descriptions are,
or at least till the late very proper proclamation of the
magistrates were, to be seen every evening in almost every corner
of this city, amusing themselves with fire-arms and small
cannons, and that without being checked or interfered with. When
the panel, a poor ignorant raw lad, lately discharged from a ship
of war--certainly not the most proper school to learn a prudent
aversion to unlucky or mischievous practices--observed the sons
of gentlemen of the first respectability engaged in such
amusements, unchecked by their parents or by the magistrates,
surely it can hardly be expected that he should discover that in
imitating them in so common a practice, he was constituting
himself _hostis humani generis_, a wretch the pest and scourge of
mankind.

"There is, no doubt, attached to every even the most innocent of
casual slaughter, a certain degree of blame, inasmuch as almost
everything of the kind might have been avoided had the slayer
exhibited the strictest degree of diligence. A well-known and
authentic story will illustrate the proposition. A young
gentleman, just married to a young lady of whom he was
passionately fond, in affectionate trifling presented at her a
pistol, of which he had drawn the charge some days before. The
lady, entering into the joke, desired him to fire: he did so, and
shot her dead; the pistol having been again charged by his
servant without his knowledge. Can any one read this story, and
feel {p.212} any emotion but that of sympathy towards the
unhappy husband? Can they ever connect the case with an idea of
punishment? Yet, divesting it of these interesting circumstances
which act upon the imagination, it is precisely that of the panel
at your Lordships' Bar; and though no one will pretend to say
that such a homicide is other than casual, yet there is not the
slightest question but it might have been avoided had the killer
taken the precaution of examining his piece. But this is not the
degree of _culpa_ which can raise a misfortune to the pitch of a
crime. It is only an instance that no accident can take place
without its afterwards being discovered that the chief actor
might have avoided committing it, had he been gifted with the
spirit of prophecy, or with such an extreme degree of prudence as
is almost equally rare.

"In the instance of shooting at butts, or at a bird, the person
killed must have been somewhat in the line previous to the
discharge of the shot, otherways it could never have come near
him. The shooter must therefore have been guilty _culpæ levis seu
levissimæ_ in firing while the deceased was in such a situation.
In like manner, it is difficult to conceive how death should
happen in consequence of a boxing or wrestling match, without
some excess upon the part of the killer. Nay, in the exercise of
the martial amusements of our forefathers, even by royal
commission, should a champion be slain in running his barriers,
or performing his tournament, it could scarcely happen without
some _culpa seu levis seu levissima_, on the part of his
antagonist. Yet all these are enumerated in the English law-books
as instances of casual homicide only; and we may therefore safely
conclude, that by the law of the sister country a slight degree
of blame will not subject the slayer _per infortunium_ to the
penalties of culpable homicide.

"Guilt, as an object of punishment, has its origin in the mind
and intention of the actor; and therefore, where that is wanting,
there is no proper object of chastisement. A madman, for example,
can no more properly be said to be guilty of murder than the
sword with which he commits it, both being equally incapable of
intending injury. In the present case, in like manner, although
it ought no doubt to be matter of deep sorrow and contrition to
the panel that his folly should have occasioned the loss of life
to a fellow-creature; yet as that folly can neither be {p.213}
termed malice, nor yet doth amount to a gross negligence, he
ought rather to be pitied than condemned. The fact done can never
be recalled, and it rests with your Lordships to consider the
case of this unfortunate young man, who has served his country in
an humble though useful station,--deserved such a character as is
given him in the letter of his officers,--and been disabled in
that service. You will best judge how (considering he has
suffered a confinement of six months) he can in humanity be the
object of further or severer punishment, for a deed of which his
mind at least, if not his hand, is guiltless. When a case is
attended with some nicety, your Lordships will allow mercy to
incline the balance of justice, well considering with the
legislator of the East, 'It is better ten guilty should escape
than that one innocent man should perish in his innocence.'"

The young sailor was acquitted.

To return for a moment to Scott's love-affair. I find him writing as follows, in March, 1795, to his cousin, William Scott, now Laird of Raeburn, who was then in the East Indies:--"The lady you allude to has been in town all this winter, and going a good deal into public, which has not in the least altered the meekness of her manners. Matters, you see, stand just as they did."

To another friend he writes thus, from Rosebank, on the 23d of August, 1795:--

It gave me the highest satisfaction to find, by the receipt of
your letter of the 14th current, that you have formed precisely
the same opinion with me, both with regard to the interpretation
of [Miss Stuart's] letter as highly flattering and favorable, and
to the mode of conduct I ought to pursue--for, after all, what
she has pointed out is the most prudent line of conduct for us
both, at least till better days, which, I think myself now
entitled to suppose, she, as well as I myself, will look forward
to with pleasure. If you were surprised at reading the {p.214}
important billet, you may guess how agreeably I was so at
receiving it; for I had, to anticipate disappointment, struggled
to suppress every rising gleam of hope; and it would be very
difficult to describe the mixed feelings her letter occasioned,
which, _entre nous_, terminated in a very hearty fit of crying. I
read over her epistle about ten times a day, and always with new
admiration of her generosity and candor--and as often take shame
to myself for the mean suspicions, which, after knowing her so
long, I could listen to, while endeavoring to guess how she would
conduct herself. To tell you the truth, I cannot but confess that
my _amour propre_, which one would expect should have been
exalted, has suffered not a little upon this occasion, through a
sense of my own _unworthiness_, pretty similar to that which
afflicted Linton upon sitting down at Keir's table. I ought
perhaps to tell you, what indeed you will perceive from her
letter, that I was always attentive, while consulting with you
upon the subject of my declaration, rather to under-than
over-rate the extent of our intimacy. By the way, I must not omit
mentioning the respect in which I hold your knowledge of the fair
sex, and your capacity of advising in these matters, since it
certainly is to your encouragement that I owe the present
situation of my affairs. I wish to God, that, since you have
acted as so useful an auxiliary during my attack, which has
succeeded in bringing the enemy to terms, you would next sit down
before some fortress yourself, and were it as impregnable as the
rock of Gibraltar, I should, notwithstanding, have the highest
expectations of your final success. Not a line from poor
Jack--What can he be doing? Moping, I suppose, about some
watering-place, and deluging his guts with specifics of every
kind--or lowering and snorting in one corner of a post-chaise,
with Kennedy, as upright and cold as a poker, stuck into the
other. As for Linton, and Crab, I anticipate with pleasure their
marvellous adventures, in the course of which Dr. {p.215}
Black's _self-denying ordinance_ will run a shrewd chance of
being neglected.[118] They will be a source of fun for the winter
evening conversations. Methinks I see the pair upon the mountains
of Tipperary--John with a beard of three inches, united and
blended with his shaggy black locks, an ellwand-looking cane with
a gilt head in his hand, and a bundle in a handkerchief over his
shoulder, exciting the cupidity of every Irish raparee who passes
him, by his resemblance to a Jew pedlar who has sent forward his
pack--Linton, tired of trailing his long legs, exalted in state
upon an Irish garron, without stirrups, and a halter on its head,
tempting every one to ask--

"Who is that upon the pony,
So long, so lean, so raw, so bony?"[119]

--calculating, as he moves along, the expenses of the salt
horse--and grinning a ghastly smile, when the hollow voice of his
fellow-traveller observes--"God! Adam, if ye gang on at this
rate, the eight shillings and seven-pence halfpenny will never
carry us forward to my uncle's at Lisburn." Enough of a thorough
Irish expedition.

We have a great marriage towards here--Scott of Harden, and a
daughter of Count Brühl, the famous chess-player, a lady of
sixteen quarters, half-sister to the Wyndhams. I wish they may
come down soon, as we shall have fine racketing, of which I will,
probably, get my share. I think of being in town some time next
month, but whether for good and all, or only for a visit, I
{p.216} am not certain. Oh, for November! Our meeting will be a
little embarrassing one. How will she look, etc., etc., etc., are
the important subjects of my present conjectures--how different
from what they were three weeks ago! I give you leave to laugh
when I tell you seriously, I had begun to "dwindle, peak, and
pine," upon the subject--but now, after the charge I have
received, it were a shame to resemble Pharaoh's lean kine. If
good living and plenty of exercise can avert that calamity, I am
in little danger of disobedience, and so, to conclude
classically,

Dicite Io poean, et Io bis dicite poean!--
Jubeo te bene valere,

GUALTERUS SCOTT.

[Footnote 118: _Crab_ was the nickname of a friend who had
accompanied Ferguson this summer on an Irish tour. Dr. Black,
celebrated for his discoveries in chemistry, was Adam
Ferguson's uncle; and had, it seems, given the young
travellers a strong admonition touching the dangers of Irish
hospitality.]

[Footnote 119: These lines are part of a song on
_Little-tony_--_i. e._, the Parliamentary orator Littleton.
They are quoted in Boswell's _Life of Johnson_, originally
published in 1791.]

I have had much hesitation about inserting the preceding letter, but could not make up my mind to omit what seems to me a most exquisite revelation of the whole character of Scott at this critical period of his history, both literary and personal;--more especially of his habitual effort to suppress, as far as words were concerned, the more tender feelings, which were in no heart deeper than in his.

It must, I think, have been, while he was indulging his _vagabond_ vein, during the autumn of 1795, that Mrs. Barbauld paid her visit to Edinburgh, and entertained a party at Mr. Dugald Stewart's, by reading Mr. William Taylor's then unpublished version of Bürger's Lenore. In the essay on Imitation of Popular Poetry, the reader has a full account of the interest with which Scott heard, some weeks afterwards, a friend's imperfect recollections of this performance; the anxiety with which he sought after a copy of the original German; the delight with which he at length perused it; and how, having just been reading the specimens of ballad poetry introduced into Lewis's romance of The Monk, he called to mind the early facility of versification which had lain so long in abeyance, {p.217} and ventured to promise his friend a rhymed translation of Lenore from his own pen. The friend in question was Miss Cranstoun, afterwards Countess of Purgstall, the sister of his friend George Cranstoun, now Lord Corehouse. He began the task, he tells us, after supper, and did not retire to bed until he had finished it, having by that time worked himself into a state of excitement which set sleep at defiance.

Next morning, before breakfast, he carried his MS. to Miss Cranstoun, who was not only delighted but astonished at it; for I have seen a letter of hers to a common friend in the country, in which she says--"Upon my word, Walter Scott is going to turn out a poet--something of a cross, I think, between Burns and Gray." The same day he read it also to his friend Sir Alexander Wood, who retains a vivid recollection of the high strain of enthusiasm into which he had been exalted by dwelling on the wild unearthly imagery of the German bard. "He read it over to me," says Sir Alexander, "in a very slow and solemn tone, and after we had said a few words about its merits, continued to look at the fire silent and musing for some minutes, until he at length burst out with 'I wish to Heaven I could get a skull and two cross-bones.'" Wood said that if Scott would accompany him to the house of John Bell, the celebrated surgeon, he had no doubt this wish might be easily gratified. They went thither accordingly on the instant;--Mr. Bell smiled on hearing the object of their visit, and pointing to a closet, at the corner of his library, bade Walter enter and choose. From a well-furnished museum of mortality, he selected forthwith what seemed to him the handsomest skull and pair of cross-bones it contained, and wrapping them in his handkerchief, carried the formidable bundle home to George's Square. The trophies were immediately mounted on the top of his little bookcase; and when Wood visited him, after many years of absence from this country, he found them in possession of {p.218} a similar position in his dressing-room at Abbotsford.[120]

[Footnote 120: Sir A. Wood was himself the son of a
distinguished surgeon in Edinburgh. He married one of the
daughters of Sir William Forbes--rose in the diplomatic
service--and died in 1846.--(1848.)]

All this occurred in the beginning of April, 1796. A few days afterwards, Scott went to pay a visit at a country house, where he expected to meet the "lady of his love." Jane Anne Cranstoun was in the secret of his attachment, and knew, that however doubtful might be Miss [Stuart's] feeling on that subject, she had a high admiration of Scott's abilities, and often corresponded with him on literary matters; so, after he had left Edinburgh, it occurred to her that she might perhaps forward his views in this quarter, by presenting him in the character of a printed author. William Erskine being called into her councils, a few copies of the ballad were forthwith thrown off in the most elegant style, and one, richly bound and blazoned, followed Scott in the course of a few days to the country. The verses were read and approved of, and Miss Cranstoun at least flattered herself that he had not made his first appearance in types to no purpose.[121]

[Footnote 121: This story was told by the Countess of
Purgstall on her deathbed to Captain Basil Hall. See his
_Schloss Hainfeld_, p. 333.]

I ought to have mentioned before, that in June, 1795, he was appointed one of the curators of the Advocates' Library, an office always reserved for those members of the Faculty who have the reputation of superior zeal in literary affairs. He had for colleagues David Hume, the Professor of Scots Law, and Malcolm Laing, the historian; and his discharge of his functions must have given satisfaction, for I find him further nominated, in March, 1796, together with Mr. Robert Hodgson Cay--an accomplished gentleman, afterwards Judge of the Admiralty Court in Scotland--to "put the Faculty's cabinet of medals in proper arrangement."

On {p.219} the 4th of June, 1796 (the birthday of George III.), there seems to have been a formidable riot in Edinburgh, and Scott is found again in the front. On the 5th, he writes as follows to his aunt, Christian Rutherford, who was then in the north of Scotland, and had meant to visit, among other places, the residence of the "chère adorable."

EDINBURGH, 5th June, 1796.