Chapter IV: Front Matter (4)

{p.075} IBID.--"So mingle banner, wain, and gun,
Where in one tide of horror run
The warriors," etc.

_James._--In the first place, warriors _running_ in a tide is a
clashing metaphor; in the second, the warriors _running_ at all is a
little homely. It is true, no doubt; but really running is little
better than scampering. For these causes, one or both, I think the
lines should be altered.

_Scott._--You are wrong in one respect. A tide is always said to
_run_,--but I thought of the tide without attending to the
equivoque, which must be altered. Read,--

"Where the tumultuous flight rolls on."

STANZA XVI.--"---- found _gallant_ grave."

_James._--This is surely a singular epithet to a grave. I think the
whole of this stanza eminently fine; and, in particular, the
conclusion.

_Scott._--"---- found _soldier's_ grave." ----

STANZA XXI.--"_Redoubted_ Picton's soul of fire."

_James._--From long association, this epithet strikes me as
conveying a semi-ludicrous idea.

_Scott._--It is here appropriate, and your objection seems merely
personal to your own association.

IBID.--"Through his friends' heart to _wound_ his own."

_James._--Quære--_Pierce_, or rather _stab_--_wound_ is faint.

_Scott._--"Pierce."

STANZA XXII.--"Forgive, _brave fallen_, the imperfect lay."

_James._--Don't like "brave fallen" at all; nor "appropriate
praise," three lines after. The latter in particular is prosaic.

_Scott._--"Forgive, _brave dead_,"
---- "_The dear-earned praise._"

{p.076} CHAPTER XXXVI.

Field of Waterloo Published. -- Revision of Paul's Letters,
etc. -- Quarrel and Reconciliation with Hogg. -- Football
Match at Carterhaugh. -- Songs on the Banner of Buccleuch.
-- Dinner at Bowhill. -- Design for a Piece of Plate to the
Sutors of Selkirk. -- Letters to the Duke of Buccleuch,
Joanna Baillie, and Mr. Morritt.

1815.

The poem of The Field of Waterloo was published before the end of October; the profits of the first edition being the author's contribution to the fund raised for the relief of the widows and children of the soldiers slain in the battle. This piece appears to have disappointed those most disposed to sympathize with the author's views and feelings. The descent is indeed heavy from his Bannockburn to his Waterloo: the presence, or all but visible reality of what his dreams cherished, seems to have overawed his imagination, and tamed it into a weak pomposity of movement. The burst of pure native enthusiasm upon the _Scottish_ heroes that fell around the Duke of Wellington's person bears, however, the broadest marks of the "Mighty Minstrel:"--

"Saw gallant Miller's fading eye
Still bent where Albyn's standards fly,
And Cameron, in the shock of steel,
Die like the offspring of Lochiel," etc.;--

and this is far from being the only redeeming passage. There is one, indeed, in which he illustrates what he then thought Buonaparte's poorness of spirit in adversity, {p.077} which always struck me as preëminently characteristic of Scott's manner of interweaving, both in prose and verse, the moral energies with analogous natural description, and combining thought with imagery,--

"Or is thy soul like mountain tide,
That, swelled by winter storm and shower,
Rolls down in turbulence of power,
A torrent fierce and wide;
Reft of these aids, a rill obscure,
Shrinking unnoticed, mean and poor,
Whose channel shows displayed
The wrecks of its impetuous course,
But not one symptom of the force
By which these wrecks were made!"

The poem was the first upon a subject likely to be sufficiently hackneyed; and, having the advantage of coming out in a small cheap form--(prudently imitated from Murray's innovation with the tales of Byron, which was the death-blow to the system of verse in quarto)--it attained rapidly a measure of circulation above what had been reached either by Rokeby or The Lord of the Isles.

Meanwhile the revision of Paul's Letters was proceeding; and Scott had almost immediately on his return to Abbotsford concluded his bargain for the first edition of a third novel--The Antiquary--to be published also in the approaching winter. Harold the Dauntless, too, was from time to time taken up as the amusement of _horæ subsecivæ_. As for Scott's out-of-doors occupations of that autumn, sufficient light will be thrown on them by the following letter; from which it is seen that he had now completed a rather tedious negotiation with another bonnet-laird, and definitively added the lands of _Kaeside_ to the original estate of Abbotsford.

TO MISS JOANNA BAILLIE, HAMPSTEAD.

ABBOTSFORD, November 12, 1815.

I have been long in acknowledging your letter, my dear
friend, and yet you have not only been frequent in my
thoughts, as must always be the case, but your name {p.078}
has been of late familiar in my mouth as a household word.
You must know that the pinasters you had the goodness to
send me some time since, which are now fit to be set out of
the nursery, have occupied my mind as to the mode of
disposing of them. Now, mark the event: there is in the
middle of what will soon be a bank of fine young wood, a
certain old gravel-pit, which is the present scene of my
operations. I have caused it to be covered with better
earth, and gently altered with the spade, so as, if
possible, to give it the air of one of those accidental
hollows which the surface of a hill frequently presents.
Having arranged my ground, I intend to plant it all round
with the pinasters, and other varieties of the pine species,
and in the interior I will have a rustic seat, surrounded by
all kinds of evergreen shrubs (laurels in particular), and
all varieties of the holly and cedar, and so forth, and this
is to be called and entitled _Joanna's Bower_. We are
determined in the choice of our ornaments by necessity, for
our ground fronts (in poetic phrase) the rising sun, or, in
common language, looks to the east; and being also on the
north side of the hill--(don't you shiver at the
thought?)--why, to say truth, George Wynnos and I are both
of opinion that nothing but evergreens will flourish there;
but I trust I shall convert a present deformity into a very
pretty little hobby-horsical sort of thing. It will not bear
looking at for years, and that is a pity; but it will so far
resemble the person from whom it takes name, that it is
planted, as she has written, for the benefit as well of
posterity as for the passing generation. Time and I, says
the Spaniard, against any two; and fully confiding in the
proverb, I have just undertaken another grand task. You must
know, I have purchased a large lump of wild land, lying
adjoining to this little property, which greatly more than
doubles my domains. The land is said to be reasonably
bought, and I am almost certain I can turn it to advantage
by a little judicious expenditure; for this {p.079} place
is already allowed to be worth twice what it cost me; and
our people here think so little of planting, and do it so
carelessly, that they stare with astonishment at the
alteration which well-planted woods make on the face of a
country. There is, besides, a very great temptation, from
the land running to within a quarter of a mile of a very
sweet wild sheet of water, of which (that is, one side of
it) I have every chance to become proprietor: this is a
poetical circumstance not to be lost sight of, and
accordingly I keep it full in my view. Amid these various
avocations, past, present, and to come, I have not thought
much about Waterloo, only that I am truly glad you like it.
I might, no doubt, have added many curious anecdotes, but I
think the pamphlet long enough as it stands, and never had
any design of writing copious notes.

I do most devoutly hope Lord Byron will succeed in his
proposal of bringing out one of your dramas; that he is your
sincere admirer is only synonymous with his being a man of
genius; and he has, I am convinced, both the power and
inclination to serve the public, by availing himself of the
treasures you have laid before them. Yet I long for "some
yet untasted spring," and heartily wish you would take Lord
B. into your counsels, and adjust, from your yet unpublished
materials, some drama for the public. In such a case, I
would, in your place, conceal my name till the issue of the
adventure. It is a sickening thing to think how many angry
and evil passions the mere name of admitted excellence
brings into full activity. I wish you would consider this
hint, and I am sure the result would be great gratification
to the public, and to yourself that sort of satisfaction
which arises from receiving proofs of having attained the
mark at which you aimed. Of this last, indeed, you cannot
doubt, if you consult only the voices of the intelligent and
the accomplished; but the object of the dramatist is
professedly to delight the public at large, and therefore I
think you should make the experiment fairly.

{p.080} Little Sophia is much obliged by your kind and
continued recollection: she is an excellent good child,
sufficiently sensible, very affectionate, not without
perception of character; but the gods have not made her
poetical, and I hope she will never attempt to act a part
which nature has not called her to. I am myself a poet,
writing to a poetess, and therefore cannot be suspected of a
wish to degrade a talent, to which, in whatever degree I may
have possessed it, I am indebted for much happiness: but
this depends only on the rare coincidence of some talent
falling in with a novelty in style and diction and conduct
of story, which suited the popular taste; and were my
children to be better poets than me, they would not be such
in general estimation, simply because the second cannot be
the first, and the first (I mean in point of date) is
everything, while others are nothing, even with more
intrinsic merit. I am therefore particularly anxious to
store the heads of my young damsels with something better
than the tags of rhymes; and I hope Sophia is old enough
(young though she be) to view her little incidents of
celebrity, such as they are, in the right point of view.
Mrs. Scott and she are at present in Edinburgh; the rest of
the children are with me in this place; my eldest boy is
already a bold horseman and a fine shot, though only about
fourteen years old. I assure you I was prouder of the first
blackcock he killed, than I have been of anything whatever
since I first killed one myself, and that is twenty years
ago. This is all stupid gossip; but, as Master Corporal Nym
says, "things must be as they may:" you cannot expect grapes
from thorns, or much amusement from a brain bewildered with
thorn hedges at Kaeside, for such is the sonorous title of
my new possession, in virtue of which I subscribe myself,

ABBOTSFORD & KAESIDE.

There is now to be mentioned a little pageant of {p.081} December, 1815, which perhaps interested _Abbotsford and Kaeside_ not very much less than the "Field of the Cloth of Gold," as James Ballantyne calls it, of the preceding autumn. This was no other than a football match, got up under the auspices of the Duke of Buccleuch, between the men of the Vale of Yarrow and the Burghers of Selkirk, the particulars of which will be sufficiently explained by an extract from Ballantyne's newspaper, written, I can have no doubt, by the Sheriff of the Forest. But the part taken in this solemnity by the Ettrick Shepherd reminds me of an extraordinary epistle which Scott had received from him some months before this time, and of the account given by Hogg himself, in one of his autobiographies, of the manner in which Scott's kindness terminated the alienation it refers to.

The Shepherd, being as usual in pecuniary straits, had projected a work, to be called The Poetic Mirror, in which should appear some piece by each popular poet of the time, the whole to be edited by himself, and published for his benefit; and he addressed, accordingly, to his brother bards a circular petition for their best assistance. Scott--like Byron and most of the other persons thus applied to--declined the proposition. The letter in which he signified his refusal has not been preserved;--indeed it is sufficiently remarkable, that of all the many letters which Hogg must have received from his distinguished contemporaries, he appears to have kept not one; but Scott's decided aversion to joint-stock adventures in authorship must have been well known ere now to Hogg--and, at all events, nobody can suspect that his note of refusal was meant to be an unfriendly communication. The Shepherd, however, took some phrase in high dudgeon, and penned an answer virulently insolent in spirit and in language, accusing him of base jealousy of his own superior natural genius. I am not sure whether it was on this or another occasion of the like sort, that James varied the usual formulas of {p.082} epistolary composition, by beginning with "Damned Sir," and ending, "Believe me, Sir, yours with disgust, etc.;" but certainly the performance was such that no intercourse took place between the parties for some weeks, or perhaps months, afterwards. The letter in which Hogg at length solicits a renewal of kindliness says nothing, it may be observed, of the circumstance which, according to his autobiography, confirmed by the recollection of two friends, whom he names in the letter itself (Mr. John Grieve and Mr. William Laidlaw), had really caused him to repent of his suspicions, and their outrageous expression. The fact was, that hearing, shortly after the receipt of the offensive epistle, that Hogg was confined to his lodgings, in an obscure alley of Edinburgh, called Gabriel's Road, by a dangerous illness, Scott called on Mr. Grieve to make inquiries about him, and to offer to take on himself the expenses of the best medical attendance. He had, however, cautioned the worthy hatter that no hint of this offer must reach Hogg; and, in consequence, it might perhaps be the Shepherd's feeling at the time that he should not, in addressing his lifelong benefactor, betray any acquaintance with this recent interference on his behalf. There can be no doubt, however, that he obeyed the genuine dictates of his better nature when he penned this apologetic effusion:--

TO WALTER SCOTT, ESQ., CASTLE STREET.

GABRIEL'S ROAD, February 28, 1815.

Mr. SCOTT,--I think it is great nonsense for two men who are
friends at heart, and who ever must be so,--indeed it is not
in the nature of things that they can be otherwise,--should
be professed enemies.

Mr. Grieve and Mr. Laidlaw, who were very severe on me, and
to whom I was obliged to show your letter, have long ago
convinced me that I mistook part of it, and that it was not
me you held in such contempt, but the opinion of the public.
The {p.083} idea that you might mean that (though I still
think the reading will bear either construction) has given
me much pain; for I know I answered yours intemperately, and
in a mortal rage. I meant to have enclosed yours, and begged
of you to return mine, but I cannot find it, and am sure
that some one to whom I have been induced to show it, has
taken it away. However, as my troubles on that subject were
never like to wear to an end, I could no longer resist
telling you that I am extremely vexed about it. I desire not
a renewal of our former intimacy, for haply, after what I
have written, your family would not suffer it; but I wish it
to be understood that, when we meet _by chance_, we might
shake hands, and speak to one another as old acquaintances,
and likewise that we may exchange a letter occasionally, for
I find there are many things which I yearn to communicate to
you, and the tears rush to my eyes when I consider that I
may not.

If you allow of this, pray let me know, and if you do not,
let me know. Indeed, I am anxious to hear from you, for "as
the day of trouble is with me, so shall my strength be." To
be friends _from the teeth forwards_ is common enough; but
it strikes me that there is something still more ludicrous
in the reverse of the picture, and so to be enemies--and why
should I be, _from the teeth forwards_, yours sincerely,

James HOGG?

Scott's reply was, as Hogg says, "a brief note, telling him to think no more of the business, and come to breakfast next morning." The misunderstanding being thus closed, they appear to have counselled and cooperated together in the most cordial fashion, in disciplining their rural allies for the muster of Carterhaugh--the Duke of Buccleuch's brother-in-law, the Earl of Home, having appointed the Shepherd his Lieutenant over the Yarrow Band, while the Sheriff took under his special cognizance the _Sutors_, i.e., _shoemakers_, of Selkirk--for so the burgesses of that town have for ages styled themselves, and under that denomination their warlike prowess in days of yore has been celebrated in many an old ballad, besides the well-known one which begins with

{p.084} "'Tis up wi' the Sutors o' Selkirk,
And 'tis down wi' the Earl of Home!"

In order to understand all the allusions in the newspaper record of this important day, one must be familiar with the notes to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border; but I shall not burden it with further comment here.

FOOTBALL MATCH.

"On Monday, 4th December, there was played, upon the
extensive plain of Carterhaugh, near the junction of the
Ettrick and Yarrow, the greatest match at the ball which has
taken place for many years. It was held by the people of the
Dale of Yarrow, against those of the parish of Selkirk; the
former being brought to the field by the Right Hon. the Earl
of Home, and the Gallant Sutors by their Chief Magistrate,
Ebenezer Clarkson, Esq. Both sides were joined by many
volunteers from other parishes; and the appearance of the
various parties marching from their different glens to the
place of rendezvous, with pipes playing and loud
acclamations, carried back the coldest imagination to the
old times when the Foresters assembled with the less
peaceable purpose of invading the English territory, or
defending their own. The romantic character of the scenery
aided the illusion, as well as the performance of a feudal
ceremony previous to commencing the games.

"His Grace the Duke of Buccleuch and Queensberry came upon
the ground about eleven o'clock, attended by his sons, the
young Earl of Dalkeith and Lord John Scott; the Countess of
Home; the Ladies Anne, Charlotte, and Isabella Scott; Lord
and Lady Montagu and family; the Hon. General Sir Edward
Stopford, K. B.; Sir John Riddell of Riddell; Sir Alexander
Don of Newton; Mr. Elliot Lockhart, member for the county;
Mr. Pringle of Whytbank, younger; Mr. Pringle of Torwoodlee;
Captain Pringle, Royal Navy; Mr. Boyd of Broadmeadows and
family; Mr. Chisholm of Chisholm; Major Pott of Todrig; Mr.
Walter Scott, Sheriff of Selkirkshire, and family,--and many
other gentlemen and ladies.--The ancient banner of the
Buccleuch family, a curious and venerable relique,
emblazoned with armorial bearings, and with the word
'_Bellendaine_,' the ancient war-cry of the clan of Scott,
was then displayed, {p.085} as on former occasions when the
Chief took the field in person, whether for the purpose of
war or sport. The banner was delivered by Lady Anne Scott to
Master Walter Scott, younger of Abbotsford, who attended
suitably mounted and armed, and riding over the field
displayed it to the sound of the war-pipes, and amid the
acclamations of the assembled spectators, who could not be
fewer than 2000 in number. That this singular renewal of an
ancient military custom might not want poetical celebrity,
verses were distributed among the spectators, composed for
the occasion by Mr. Walter Scott and the Ettrick
Shepherd.--Mr. James Hogg acted as aide-de-camp to the Earl
of Home in the command of the Yarrow men, and Mr. Robert
Henderson of Selkirk to Mr. Clarkson, both of whom
contributed not a little to the good order of the day.

"The ball was thrown up between the parties by the Duke of
Buccleuch, and the first game was gained, after a severe
conflict of an hour and a half duration, by the Selkirk men.
The second game was still more severely contested, and after
a close and stubborn struggle of more than three hours, with
various fortune, and much display of strength and agility on
both sides, was at length carried by the Yarrow men. The
ball should then have been thrown up a third time, but
considerable difficulty occurred in arranging the voluntary
auxiliaries from other parishes, so as to make the match
equal; and, as the day began to close, it was found
impossible to bring the strife to an issue, by playing a
decisive game.

"Both parties, therefore, parted with equal honors, but,
before they left the ground, the Sheriff threw up his hat,
and in Lord Dalkeith's name and his own, challenged the
Yarrow men, on the part of the Sutors, to a match to be
played upon the first convenient opportunity, with 100
picked men only on each side. The challenge was mutually
accepted by Lord Home, on his own part, and for Lord John
Scott, and was received with acclamation by the players on
both sides. The principal gentlemen present took part with
one side or other, except the Duke of Buccleuch, who remains
neutral. Great play is expected, and all bets are to be paid
by the losers to the poor of the winning parish. We cannot
dismiss the subject without giving our highest commendation
to the Earl of Home, {p.086} and to Mr. Clarkson, for the
attention which they showed in promoting the spirit and good
order of the day. For the players themselves, it was
impossible to see a finer set of active and athletic young
fellows than appeared on the field. But what we chiefly
admired in their conduct was, that though several hundreds
in number, exceedingly keen for their respective parties,
and engaged in so rough and animated a contest, they
maintained the most perfect good-humor, and showed how
unnecessary it is to discourage manly and athletic exercises
among the common people, under pretext of maintaining
subordination and good order. We have only to regret that
the great concourse of spectators rendered it difficult to
mention the names of the several players who distinguished
themselves by feats of strength or agility; but we must not
omit to record that the first ball was _hailed_ by Robert
Hall, mason in _Selkirk_, and the second by George Brodie,
from _Greatlaws_, upon _Aillwater_.

"The Selkirk party wore slips of fir as their mark of
distinction--the Yarrow men, sprigs of heath.

"Refreshments were distributed to the players by the Duke of
Buccleuch's domestics, in a booth erected for the purpose;
and no persons were allowed to sell ale or spirits on the
field.

"In the evening there was a dance at the Duke's hunting-seat
at Bowhill, attended by the nobility and gentry who had
witnessed the sport of the day; and the fascination of Gow's
violin and band detained them in the dancing-room till the
dawn of the winter morning."

The newspaper then gives the songs above alluded to--namely, Scott's Lifting of the Banner:--

"From the brown crest of Newark its summons extending,
Our signal is waving in smoke and in flame,
And each Forester blithe, from his mountain descending,
Bounds light o'er the heather to join in the game;
Then up with the Banner! let forest winds fan her!
She has blazed over Ettrick eight ages and more;
In sport we'll attend her, in battle defend her,
With heart and with hand, like our Fathers before," etc.[26]

[Footnote 26: See _Poetical Works_ (Ed. 1834), vol. xi.
p. 312 [Cambridge Ed. p. 424].]

--and that excellent ditty by Hogg, entitled The Ettrick {p.087} Garland, to the Ancient Banner of the House of Buccleuch:--

"And hast thou here, like hermit gray,
Thy mystic characters unroll'd,
O'er peaceful revellers to play,
Thou emblem of the days of old?
All hail! memorial of the brave,
The liegeman's pride, the Border's awe!
May thy gray pennon never wave
On sterner field than Carterhaugh!" etc.

I have no doubt the Sheriff of the Forest was a prouder man, when he saw his boy ride about Carterhaugh with the pennon of Bellenden, than when Platoff mounted himself for the imperial review of the _Champ de Mars_. It is a pity that I should have occasion to allude, before I quit a scene so characteristic of Scott, to another outbreak of Hogg's jealous humor. His Autobiography informs us, that when the more distinguished part of the company assembled on the conclusion of the sport to dine at Bowhill, he was proceeding to place himself at a particular table--but the Sheriff seized his arm, told him _that_ was reserved for the nobility, and seated him at an inferior board--"between himself and the Laird of Harden"--the first gentleman of the clan Scott. "The fact is," says Hogg, "I am convinced he was sore afraid of my getting to be too great a favorite among the young ladies of Buccleuch!" Who can read this, and not be reminded of Sancho Panza and the Duchess? And, after all, he quite mistook what Scott had said to him; for certainly there was, neither on this, nor on any similar occasion at Bowhill, any _high table for the nobility_, though there was a _side-table for the children_, at which, when the Shepherd of Ettrick was about to seat himself, his friend probably whispered that it was reserved for the "_little_ lords and ladies, and their playmates." This blunder may seem undeserving of any explanation; but it is often in small matters that the strongest feelings are most strikingly betrayed--and this story is, in exact {p.088} proportion to its silliness, indicative of the jealous feeling which mars and distorts so many of Hogg's representations of Scott's conduct and demeanor.

It appears from the account of this football match in the Edinburgh Journal, that Scott took a lead in proposing a renewal of the contest. This, however, never occurred; and that it ought not to do so had probably occurred from the first to the Duke of Buccleuch, who is mentioned as having alone abstained from laying any bets on the final issue.

When Mr. Washington Irving visited Scott two years afterwards at Abbotsford, he told his American friend that "the old feuds and local interests, and rivalries and animosities of the Scotch, still slept in their ashes, and might easily be roused; their hereditary feeling for names was still great; it was not always safe to have even the game of football between villages;--the old clannish spirit was too apt to break out."[27]

[Footnote 27: Irving's _Abbotsford and Newstead_, 1835,
p. 40.]

The good Duke of Buccleuch's solitary exemption from these heats of Carterhaugh might read a significant lesson to minor politicians of all parties on more important scenes. In pursuance of the same peace-making spirit, he appears to have been desirous of doing something gratifying to the men of the town of Selkirk, who had on this occasion taken the field against his Yarrow tenantry. His Grace consulted Scott about the design of a piece of plate to be presented to their community; and his letter on this weighty subject must not be omitted in the memoirs of a Sheriff of Selkirk:--

TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH, ETC., BOWHILL.

EDINBURGH, Thursday.

MY DEAR LORD,--I have proceeded in my commission about the
cup. It will be a very handsome one. But I am still puzzled
to dispose of the birse[28] in a {p.089} becoming manner.
It is a most unmanageable decoration. I tried it upright on
the top of the cup; it looked like a shaving-brush, and the
goblet might be intended to make the lather. Then I thought
I had a brilliant idea. The arms of Selkirk are a female
seated on a sarcophagus, decorated with the arms of
Scotland, which will make a beautiful top to the cup. So I
thought of putting the birse into the lady's other hand;
but, alas, it looked so precisely like the rod of
chastisement uplifted over the poor child, that I laughed at
the drawing for half an hour. Next I tried to take off the
castigatory appearance, by inserting the bristles in a kind
of handle; but then it looked as if the poor woman had been
engaged in the capacities of housemaid and child-keeper at
once, and, fatigued with her double duty, had sat down on
the wine-cooler, with the broom in one hand, and the bairn
in the other. At length, after some conference with Charles
Sharpe, I have hit on a plan, which, I think, will look very
well, if tolerably executed,--namely, to have the lady
seated in due form on the top of the lid (which will look
handsome, and will be well taken), and to have a thistle
wreathed around the sarcophagus and rising above her head,
and from the top of the thistle shall proceed the birse. I
will bring a drawing with me, and they shall get the cup
ready in the mean time. I hope to be at Abbotsford on Monday
night, to stay for a week. My cat has eat two or three
birds, while regaling on the crumbs that were thrown for
them. This was a breach of hospitality; but _oportet
vivere_--and _micat inter omnes_--with which stolen pun, and
my respectful compliments to Lord Montagu and the ladies, I
am, very truly, your Grace's most faithful and obliged
servant,

Walter SCOTT.

[Footnote 28: A _birse_, or bunch of hog's _bristles_,
forms the cognizance of the Sutors. When a new burgess
is admitted into their community, _the birse_ passes
round with the cup of welcome, and every elder brother
dips it into the wine, and draws it through his mouth,
before it reaches the happy neophyte, who of course pays
it similar respect.]

{p.090} P. S.--Under another cover, which I have just
received, I send the two drawings of the front and reverse
of the lid of the proposed cup. Your Grace will be so good
as understand that the thistle--the top of which is
garnished with the bristle--is entirely detached, in
working, from the figure, and slips into a socket. The
following lines are humbly suggested for a motto, being
taken from an ancient Scottish canzonetta,--unless the
Yarrow committee can find any better:--

"The sutor ga'e the sow a kiss:
Grumph! quo' the sow, it's a' for my birss."

Some weeks before the year 1815 closed, Mr. Morritt sustained the heaviest of domestic afflictions; and several letters on that sad subject had passed between Rokeby and Abbotsford,[29] before the date of the following:--

[Footnote 29: [A touching letter from Morritt, written
shortly before his wife's death, and one of Scott's,
written after that event, will be found in _Familiar
Letters_, vol. i. pp. 352-354.]]

TO J. B. S. MORRITT, ESQ., M. P., ROKEBY PARK.

EDINBURGH, 22d December, 1815.

MY DEAR MORRITT,--While you know what satisfaction it would
have given me to have seen you here, I am very sensible of
the more weighty reasons which you urge for preferring to
stay at Rokeby for some time. I only hope you will remember
that Scotland has claims on you, whenever you shall find
your own mind so far at ease as to permit you to look abroad
for consolation; and if it should happen that you thought of
being here about our time of vacation, I have my time then
entirely at my own command, and I need not say, that as much
of it as could in any manner of way contribute to your
amusement, is most heartily at yours. I have myself at
present the melancholy task of watching the declining health
of my elder brother, Major Scott, whom, I think, you have
seen.

{p.091} My literary occupation is getting through the press
the Letters of Paul, of whose lucubrations I trust soon to
send you a copy. As the observations of a bystander, perhaps
you will find some amusement in them, especially as I had
some channels of information not accessible to every one.
The recess of our courts, which takes place to-morrow, for
three weeks, will give me ample time to complete this job,
and also the second volume of Triermain, which is nearly
finished,--a strange rude story, founded partly on the
ancient northern traditions respecting the Berserkers, whose
peculiar habits and fits of martial frenzy make such a
figure in the Sagas. I shall then set myself seriously to
The Antiquary, of which I have only a very general sketch at
present; but when once I get my pen to the paper it will
walk fast enough. I am sometimes tempted to leave it alone,
and try whether it will not write as well without the
assistance of my head as with it. A hopeful prospect for the
reader. In the mean while, the snow, which is now falling so
fast as to make it dubious when this letter may reach
Rokeby, is likely to forward these important avocations, by
keeping me a constant resident in Edinburgh, in lieu of my
plan of going to Abbotsford, where I had a number of schemes
in hand, in the way of planting and improving. I believe I
told you I have made a considerable addition to my little
farm, and extended my domains towards a wild lake, which I
have a good prospect of acquiring also. It has a sort of
legendary fame; for the persuasion of the solitary shepherds
who approach its banks is, that it is tenanted by a very
large amphibious animal called by them a water-bull, and
which several of them pretend to have seen. As his
dimensions greatly exceed those of an otter, I am tempted to
think with Trinculo, "This is the devil, and no monster."
But, after all, is it not strange, that as to almost all the
lakes in Scotland, both Lowland and Highland, such a belief
should prevail? and that the description popularly given
{p.092} uniformly corresponds with that of the
hippopotamus? Is it possible, that at some remote period,
that remarkable animal, like some others which have now
disappeared, may have been an inhabitant of our large lakes?
Certainly the vanishing of the mammoth and other animals
from the face of the creation renders such a conjecture less
wild than I would otherwise esteem it. It is certain we have
lost the beaver, whose bones have been more than once found
in our Selkirkshire bogs and marlmosses. The remains of the
wild bull are very frequently found; and I have more than
one skull with horns of most formidable dimensions.

About a fortnight ago we had a great football match in
Selkirkshire, when the Duke of Buccleuch raised his banner
(a very curious and ancient pennon) in great form. Your
friend Walter was banner-bearer, dressed, like a forester of
old, in green, with a green bonnet, and an eagle feather in
it; and, as he was well mounted, and rode handsomely over
the field, he was much admired by all his clansmen.

I have thrown these trifles together, without much hope that
they will afford you amusement; but I know you will wish to
know what I am about, and I have but trifles to send to
those friends who interest themselves about a trifler. My
present employment is watching, from time to time, the
progress of a stupid cause, in order to be ready to reduce
the sentence into writing, when the Court shall have decided
whether Gordon of Kenmore or MacMichan of Meikleforthhead be
the superior of the lands of Tarschrechan and Dalbrattie,
and entitled to the feudal casualties payable forth thereof,
which may amount to twopence sterling, once in half a dozen
of years. Marry, sir, they make part of a freehold
qualification, and the decision may wing a voter. I did not
send the book you received by the Selkirk coach. I wish I
could have had sense enough to send anything which could
afford you consolation. I think our friend {p.093} Lady
Louisa was likely to have had this attention; she has, God
knows, been herself tried with affliction, and is well
acquainted with the sources from which comfort can be drawn.
My wife joins in kindest remembrances, as do Sophia and
Walter. Ever yours affectionately,

Walter SCOTT.

This letter is dated the 22d of December. On the 26th, John Ballantyne, being then at Abbotsford, writes to Messrs. Constable: "Paul is _all_ in hand;" and an envelope, addressed to James Ballantyne on the 29th, has preserved another little fragment of Scott's playful doggerel:--

"Dear James--I'm done, thank God, with the long yarns
Of the most prosy of Apostles--Paul;
And now advance, sweet Heathen of Monkbarns,
Step out, old quizz, as fast as I can scrawl."

{p.094} CHAPTER XXXVII.

Publication of Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk. -- Guy
Mannering "Terry-fied." -- Death of Major John Scott. --
Letters to Thomas Scott. -- Publication of the Antiquary. --
History of 1814 for the Edinburgh Annual Register. --
Letters on the History of Scotland Projected. -- Publication
of the First Tales of My Landlord by Murray and Blackwood.
-- Anecdotes by Mr. Train. -- Quarterly Review on the Tales.
-- Building at Abbotsford Begun. -- Letters to Morritt,
Terry, Murray, and the Ballantynes.

1816.

The year 1815 may be considered as, for Scott's peaceful tenor of life, an eventful one. That which followed has left almost its only traces in the successive appearance of nine volumes, which attest the prodigal genius, and hardly less astonishing industry of the man. Early in January were published Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk, of which I need not now say more than that they were received with lively curiosity, and general, though not vociferous applause. The first edition was an octavo, of 6000 copies; and it was followed, in the course of the next two or three years, by a second and a third, amounting together to 3000 more. The popularity of the novelist was at its height; and this admitted, if not avowed, specimen of Scott's prose must have been perceived, by all who had any share of discrimination, to flow from the same pen.

Mr. Terry produced, in the spring of 1816, a dramatic {p.095} piece, entitled Guy Mannering, which met with great success on the London boards, and still continues to be a favorite with the theatrical public. What share the novelist himself had in this first specimen of what he used to call "the art of _Terryfying_," I cannot exactly say; but his correspondence shows that the pretty song of the Lullaby[30] was not his only contribution to it; and I infer that he had taken the trouble to modify the plot, and rearrange, for stage purposes, a considerable part of the original dialogue. The casual risk of discovery, through the introduction of the song which had, in the mean time, been communicated to one of his humble friends, the late Mr. Alexander Campbell,[31] editor of Albyn's Anthology--(commonly known at Abbotsford as, by way of excellence, _The Dunniewassal_,)--and Scott's suggestions on that difficulty will amuse the reader of the following letter:--

[Footnote 30: See Scott's _Poetical Works_ (Ed. 1834),
vol. xi. p. 317 (Cambridge Ed. p. 425).]

[Footnote 31: This Mr. Campbell was the same whom the
poet's mother employed to teach her boys to sing, as
recorded in the Autobiographical Fragment--_ante_, vol.
i. p. 44. I believe he was also the "litigious
Highlander" of a story told in Irving's _Abbotsford and
Newstead_, p. 57.

(In the November of this year, Scott writes to Lady
Abercorn: "The only thing I have been doing of late is
to write two or three songs for a poor man called
Campbell.... He has made an immense collection of
Highland airs, and I have given him words for some of
them. One of them is the only good song I ever wrote--it
is a fine Highland Gathering tune called _Pibroch an
Donuil Dhu_, that is, the Pibroch of Donald the
Black."--_Familiar Letters_, vol. i. p. 374.)]

TO D. TERRY, ESQ., ALFRED PLACE, BLOOMSBURY, LONDON.

ABBOTSFORD, 18th April, 1816.

MY DEAR TERRY,--I give you joy of your promotion to the
dignity of an householder, and heartily wish you all the
success you so well deserve, to answer the approaching
enlargement of your domestic establishment. You will find a
house a very devouring monster, and that the purveying for
it requires a little exertion, and a great {p.096} deal of
self-denial and arrangement. But when there is domestic
peace and contentment, all that would otherwise be
disagreeable, as restraining our taste and occupying our
time, becomes easy. I trust Mrs. Terry will get her business
easily over, and that you will soon "dandle Dickie on your
knee."--I have been at the spring circuit, which made me
late in receiving your letter, and there I was introduced to
a man whom I never saw in my life before, namely, the
proprietor of all the Pepper and Mustard family,--in other
words, the genuine Dandie Dinmont. Dandie is himself modest,
and says, "he b'lives it's only the dougs that is in the
buik, and no himsel'." As the surveyor of taxes was going
his ominous rounds past Hyndlea, which is the abode of
Dandie, his whole pack rushed out upon the man of execution,
and Dandie followed them (conscious that their number
greatly exceeded his return), exclaiming, "The tae hauf o'
them is but whalps, man." In truth, I knew nothing of the
man, except his odd humor of having only two names for
twenty dogs. But there are lines of general resemblance
among all these hill-men, which there is no missing; and
Jamie Davidson of Hyndlea certainly looks Dandie Dinmont
remarkably well. He is much flattered with the compliment,
and goes uniformly by the name among his comrades, but has
never read the book. Ailie used to read it to him, but it
set him to sleep. All this you will think funny enough. I am
afraid I am in a scrape about the song, and that of my own
making; for as it never occurred to me that there was
anything odd in my writing two or three verses for you,
which have no connection with the novel, I was at no pains
to disown them; and Campbell is just that sort of crazy
creature, with whom there is no confidence, not from want of
honor and disposition to oblige, but from his flighty
temper. The music of _Cadil gu lo_ is already printed in his
publication, and nothing can be done with him, for fear of
setting his tongue a-going. Erskine and {p.097} you may
consider whether you should barely acknowledge an obligation
to an unknown friend, or pass the matter altogether in
silence. In my opinion, my _first_ idea was preferable to
both, because I cannot see what earthly connection there is
between the song and the novel, or how acknowledging the one
is fathering the other. On the contrary, it seems to me that
acknowledgment tends to exclude the idea of farther
obligation than to the extent specified. I forgot also that
I had given a copy of the lines to Mrs. Macleod of Macleod,
from whom I had the air. But I remit the matter entirely to
you and Erskine, for there must be many points in it which I
cannot be supposed a good judge of. At any rate, don't let
it delay your publication, and believe I shall be quite
satisfied with what you think proper.

I have got from my friend Glengarry the noblest dog ever
seen on the Border since Johnnie Armstrong's time. He is
between the wolf and deer greyhound, about six feet long
from the tip of the nose to the tail, and high and strong in
proportion: he is quite gentle, and a great favorite: tell
Will Erskine he will eat off his plate without being at the
trouble to put a paw on the table or chair.[32] I showed him
to Mathews, who dined one day in Castle Street before I came
here, where, except for Mrs. S., I am like unto

{p.098} "The spirit who bideth by himself,
In the land of mist and snow"--[33]

for it is snowing and hailing eternally, and will kill all
the lambs to a certainty, unless it changes in a few hours.
At any rate, it will cure us of the embarrassments arising
from plenty and low markets. Much good luck to your dramatic
exertions: when I can be of use, command me. Mrs. Scott
joins me in regards to Mrs. Terry, and considers the house
as the greatest possible bargain: the situation is all you
can wish. Adieu! yours truly,

Walter SCOTT.

[Footnote 32: [In the letter accompanying his gift,
Glengarry says: "His name is Maida, out of respect for
that action in which my brother had the honor to lead
the 78th Highlanders to victory." Writing to Joanna
Baillie, April 12, Scott describes his new friend as
"the finest dog of the kind in Scotland.... He is
between the deer greyhound and mastiff, with a shaggy
mane like a lion; he always sits beside me at dinner,
his head as high as the back of my chair; yet it will
gratify you to know that a favorite cat keeps him in the
greatest possible order, and insists upon all rights of
precedence, and scratches with impunity the nose of an
animal who would make no bones of a wolf, and pulls down
a red deer without fear or difficulty. I heard my friend
set up some most piteous howls, and I assure you the
noise was no joke, all occasioned by his fear of passing
puss, who had stationed himself on the
stairs."--_Familiar Letters_, vol. i. p. 358.]]

[Footnote 33: Coleridge--_Ancient Mariner_.]

P. S.--On consideration, and comparing difficulties, I think
I will settle with Campbell to take my name from the verses,
as they stand in his collection. The verses themselves I
cannot take away without imprudent explanations; and as they
go to other music, and stand without any name, they will
probably not be noticed, so you need give yourself no
farther trouble on the score. I should like to see my copy:
pray send it to the post-office, under cover to Mr.
Freeling, whose unlimited privilege is at my service on all
occasions.

Early in May appeared the novel of The Antiquary, which seems to have been begun a little before the close of 1815. It came out at a moment of domestic distress.

Throughout the year 1815, Major John Scott had been drooping. He died on the 8th of May, 1816; and I extract the letter in which this event was announced to Mr. Thomas Scott by his only surviving brother.

TO THOMAS SCOTT, ESQ., PAYMASTER OF THE 70TH REGIMENT, CANADA.

EDINBURGH, 15th May, 1816.

MY DEAR TOM,--This brings you the melancholy news of our
brother John's concluding his long and lingering illness by
death, upon Thursday last. We had {p.099} thought it
impossible he should survive the winter, but, as the weather
became milder, he gathered strength, and went out several
times. In the beginning of the week he became worse, and on
Wednesday kept his bed. On Thursday, about two o'clock, they
sent me an express to Abbotsford--the man reached me at
nine. I immediately set out, and travelled all night--but
had not the satisfaction to see my brother alive. He had
died about four o'clock, without much pain, being completely
exhausted. You will naturally feel most anxious about my
mother's state of health and spirits. I am happy to say she
has borne this severe shock with great firmness and
resignation, is perfectly well in her health, and as strong
in her mind as ever you knew her. She feels her loss, but is
also sensible that protracted existence, with a constitution
so irretrievably broken up, could have been no blessing.
Indeed I must say, that, in many respects, her situation
will be more comfortable on account of this removal, when
the first shock is over; for to watch an invalid, and to
undergo all the changes of a temper fretted by suffering,
suited ill with her age and habits. The funeral, which took
place yesterday, was decent and private, becoming our
father's eldest son, and the head of a quiet family. After
it, I asked Hay Donaldson and Mr. Macculloch[34] to look
over his papers, in case there should be any testamentary
provision, but none such was found; nor do I think he had
any intention of altering the destination which divides his
effects between his surviving brothers.--Your affectionate

W. S.

[Footnote 34: The late Mr. Hay Donaldson, W. S.,--an
intimate friend of both Thomas and Walter Scott,--and
Mr. Macculloch of Ardwell, the brother of Mrs. Thomas
Scott.]

A few days afterwards, he hands to Mr. Thomas Scott a formal statement of pecuniary affairs; the result of which was, that the Major had left something not much under £6000. Major Scott, from all I have heard, was {p.100} a sober, sedate bachelor, of dull mind and frugal tastes, who, after his retirement from the army, divided his time between his mother's primitive fireside, and the society of a few whist-playing brother officers, that met for an evening rubber at Fortune's tavern. But, making every allowance for his retired and thrifty habits, I infer that the payments made to each of the three brothers out of their father's estate must have, prior to 1816, amounted to £5000. From the letter conveying this statement (29th May), I extract a few sentences:--

DEAR TOM,--... Should the possession of this sum, and the
certainty that you must, according to the course of nature,
in a short space of years succeed to a similar sum of £3000
belonging to our mother, induce you to turn your thoughts to
Scotland, I shall be most happy to forward your views with
any influence I may possess; and I have little doubt that,
sooner or later, something may be done. But, unfortunately,
every avenue is now choked with applicants, whose claims are
very strong; for the number of disbanded officers, and
public servants dismissed in consequence of Parliament
turning restive and refusing the income-tax, is great and
increasing. Economy is the order of the day, and I assure
you they are shaving properly close. It would, no doubt, be
comparatively easy to get you a better situation where you
are, but then it is bidding farewell to your country, at
least for a long time, and separating your children from all
knowledge of those with whom they are naturally connected. I
shall anxiously expect to hear from you on your views and
wishes. I think, at all events, you ought to get rid of the
drudgery of the paymastership--but not without trying to
exchange it for something else. I do not know how it is with
you--but I do not feel myself quite so _young_ as I was when
we met last, and I should like well to see my only brother
return to his own country and settle, without thoughts
{p.101} of leaving it, till it is exchanged for one that is
dark and distant.... I left all Jack's personal trifles at
my mother's disposal. There was nothing of the slightest
value, excepting his gold watch, which was my sister's, and
a good one. My mother says he had wished my son Walter
should have it, as his male representative--which I can only
accept on condition _your_ little Walter will accept a
similar token of regard from his remaining uncle.--Yours
affectionately,

W. S.

The letter in which Scott communicated his brother's death to Mr. Morritt gives us his own original opinion of The Antiquary. It has also some remarks on the separation of Lord and Lady Byron--and the "domestic verses" of the noble poet.

TO J. B. S. MORRITT, ESQ., M. P., LONDON.

EDINBURGH, May 16, 1816.