Chapter LIII: Publication of Mr. Adolphus's Letters on the Authorship of Waverley

1821

During Scott's visit to London in July, 1821, there appeared a work which was read with eager curiosity and delight by the public--with much private diversion besides by his friends--and which he himself must have gone through with a very odd mixture of emotions. I allude to the volume entitled "Letters to Richard Heber, Esq., containing critical remarks on the series of novels beginning with Waverley, and an attempt to ascertain their author;" which was soon known to have been penned by Mr. John Leycester Adolphus, a distinguished alumnus of the University then represented in Parliament by Sir Walter's early friend Heber.[131] Previously to the publication of these letters, the opinion that Scott was the author of Waverley had indeed become well settled in the English, to say nothing of the Scottish mind; a great variety of circumstances, external as well as internal, had by degrees cooeperated to its general establishment: yet there were not wanting persons who still dissented, or at least affected to dissent from it. It was reserved for the enthusiastic industry, and admirable ingenuity of this juvenile academic, to set the question at rest by an accumulation of critical evidence which no sophistry could evade, and yet produced in a style of such high-bred delicacy, that it was impossible for the hitherto "veiled prophet" to take the slightest offence with the hand that had forever abolished his disguise. The only sceptical scruple that survived this exposition was extinguished in due time by Scott's avowal of the _sole and unassisted_ authorship of his novels; and now Mr. Adolphus's Letters have shared the fate of other elaborate arguments, the thesis of which has ceased to be controverted. Hereafter, I am persuaded, his volume will be revived for its own sake;--but, in the mean time, regarding it merely as forming, by its original effect, an epoch in Scott's history, I think it my duty to mark my sense of its importance in that point of view, by transcribing the writer's own summary of its

CONTENTS.

"LETTER I.--Introduction--General reasons for believing the
novels to have been written by the author of Marmion.

"LETTER II.--Resemblance between the novelist and poet in their
tastes, studies, and habits of life, as illustrated by their
works--Both Scotchmen--Habitual residents in
Edinburgh--Poets--Antiquaries--German and Spanish scholars--Equal
in classical attainment--Deeply read in British
history--Lawyers--Fond of field sports--Of dogs--Acquainted with
most manly exercises--Lovers of military subjects--The novelist
apparently not a soldier.

"LETTER III.--The novelist is, like the poet, a man of good
society--His stories never betray forgetfulness of honorable
principles, or ignorance of good manners--Spirited pictures of
gentlemanly character--Colonel Mannering--Judicious treatment of
elevated historical personages--The novelist quotes and praises
most contemporary poets, except the author of Marmion--Instances
in which the poet has appeared to slight his own unacknowledged,
but afterwards avowed productions.

"LETTER IV.--Comparison of the works themselves--All
distinguished by good morals and good sense--The latter
particularly shown in the management of character--Prose
style--Its general features--Plainness and facility--Grave
banter--Manner of telling a short
story--Negligence--Scotticisms--Great propriety and correctness
occasionally, and sometimes unusual sweetness.

"LETTER V.--Dialogue in the novels and poems--Neat colloquial
turns in the former, such as cannot be expected in romantic
poetry--Happy adaptation of dialogue to character, whether merely
natural, or artificially modified, as by profession, local
habits, etc.--Faults of dialogue, as connected with character of
speakers--Quaintness of language and thought--Bookish air in
conversation--Historical personages alluding to their own
celebrated acts and sayings--Unsuccessful attempts at broad
vulgarity--Beauties of composition peculiar to the
dialogue--Terseness and spirit--These qualities well displayed in
quarrels; but not in scenes of polished raillery--Eloquence.

"LETTER VI.--The poetry of the author of Marmion generally
characterized--His habits of composition and turn of mind as a
poet, compared with those of the novelist--Their descriptions
simply conceived and composed, without abstruse and far-fetched
circumstances or refined comments--Great advantage derived by
both from accidental combinations of images, and the association
of objects in the mind with persons, events, etc.--Distinctness
and liveliness of effect in narrative and description--Narrative
usually picturesque or dramatic, or both--Distinctness, etc., of
effect, produced in various ways--Striking pictures of
individuals--Their persons, dress, etc.--Descriptions sometimes
too obviously picturesque--Subjects for painters--Effects of
light frequently noticed and finely described--Both writers excel
in grand and complicated scenes--Among detached and occasional
ornaments, the similes particularly noticed--Their frequency and
beauty--Similes and metaphors sometimes quaint, and pursued too
far.

"LETTER VII.--Stories of the two writers compared--These are
generally connected with true history, and have their scene laid
in a real place--Local peculiarities diligently attended
to--Instances in which the novelist and poet have celebrated the
same places--they frequently describe these as seen by a
traveller (the hero or some other principal personage) for the
first time--Dramatic mode of relating story--Soliloquies--Some
scenes degenerate into melodrame--Lyrical pieces introduced
sometimes too theatrically--Comparative unimportance of
heroes--Various causes of this fault--Heroes rejected by ladies,
and marrying others whom they had before slighted--Personal
struggle between a civilized and a barbarous hero--Characters
resembling each other--Female portraits in general--Fathers and
daughters--Characters in Paul's Letters--Wycliffe and
Risingham--Glossin and Hatteraick--Other characters
compared--Long periods of time abruptly passed over--Surprises,
unexpected discoveries, etc.--These sometimes too forced and
artificial--Frequent recourse to the marvellous--Dreams well
described--Living persons mistaken for spectres--Deaths of
Burley, Risingham, and Rashleigh.

"LETTER VIII.--Comparison of particular
passages--Descriptions--Miscellaneous thoughts--Instances in
which the two writers have resorted to the same sources of
information, and borrowed the same incidents, etc.--Same authors
quoted by both--The poet, like the novelist, fond of mentioning
his contemporaries, whether as private friends or as men publicly
distinguished--Author of Marmion never notices the Author of
Waverley (see Letter III.)--Both delight in frequently
introducing an antiquated or fantastic dialect--Peculiarities of
expression common to both writers--Conclusion."

[Footnote 131: [John Leycester Adolphus, son of John Adolphus, eminent as a barrister and the author of various historical works, was born in 1795, and was educated at Merchant Taylors', and St. John's College, Oxford, where in 1814 he gained the Newdigate prize for English verse. He held a reputable position in his father's profession, and, beside the work described in the text, published _Letters from Spain in 1856 and 1857_. He also wrote a number of clever metrical _jeux d'esprit_. He was engaged in completing his father's _History of England under George III._ at the time of his death in 1862.]]

I wish I had space for extracting copious specimens of the felicity with which Mr. Adolphus works out these various points of his problem. As it is, I must be contented with a narrow selection--and I shall take two or three of the passages which seem to me to connect themselves most naturally with the main purpose of my own compilation.

"A thorough knowledge and statesmanlike understanding of the
domestic history and politics of Britain at various and distant
periods; a familiar acquaintance with the manners and prevailing
spirit of former generations, and with the characters and habits
of their most distinguished men, are of themselves no cheap or
common attainments; and it is rare indeed to find them united
with a strong original genius, and great brilliancy of
imagination. We know, however, that the towering poet of Flodden
Field is also the diligent editor of Swift and Dryden, of Lord
Somers's Tracts, and of Sir Ralph Sadler's State Papers; that in
these and other parts of his literary career he has necessarily
plunged deep into the study of British history, biography, and
antiquities, and that the talent and activity which he brought to
these researches have been warmly seconded by the zeal and
liberality of those who possessed the amplest and rarest sources
of information. 'The Muse found him,' as he himself said long
ago, 'engaged in the pursuit of historical and traditional
antiquities, and the excursions which he has made in her company
have been of a nature which increases his attachment to his
original study.' Are we then to suppose that another writer has
combined the same powers of fancy with the same spirit of
investigation, the same perseverance, and the same good fortune?
and shall we not rather believe, that the labor employed in the
illustration of Dryden has helped to fertilize the invention
which produced Montrose and Old Mortality?...

"However it may militate against the supposition of his being a
poet, I cannot suppress my opinion, that our novelist is a 'man
of law.' He deals out the peculiar terms and phrases of that
science (as practised in Scotland) with a freedom and confidence
beyond the reach of any uninitiated person. If ever, in the
progress of his narrative, a legal topic presents itself (which
very frequently happens), he neither declines the subject, nor
timidly slurs it over, but enters as largely and formally into
all its technicalities, as if the case were actually 'before the
fifteen.' The manners, humors, and professional _bavardage_ of
lawyers, are sketched with all the ease and familiarity which
result from habitual observation. In fact, the subject of law,
which is a stumbling-block to others, is to the present writer a
spot of repose; upon this theme he lounges and gossips, he is
_discinctus et soleatus_, and, at times, almost forgets that when
an author finds himself at home and perfectly at ease, he is in
great danger of falling asleep.--If, then, my inferences are
correct, the unknown writer who was just now proved to be an
excellent poet, must also be pronounced a follower of the law:
the combination is so unusual, at least on this side of the
Tweed, that, as Juvenal says on a different occasion--

... 'bimembri
Hoc monstrum puero, vel mirandis sub aratro
Piscibus inventis, et foetae comparo mulsae.'

Nature has indeed presented us with one such prodigy in the
author of Marmion; and it is probable, that in the author of
Waverley, we only see the same specimen under a different aspect;
for, however sportive the goddess may be, she has too much wit
and invention to wear out a frolic by many repetitions....

"A striking characteristic of both writers is their ardent love
of rural sports, and all manly and robust exercises.--But the
importance given to the canine race in these works ought to be
noted as a characteristic feature by itself. I have seen some
drawings by a Swiss artist, who was called the Raphael of cats;
and either of the writers before us might, by a similar phrase,
be called the Wilkie of dogs. Is it necessary to justify such a
compliment by examples? Call Yarrow, or Lufra, or poor Fangs,
Colonel Mannering's Plato, Henry Morton's Elphin, or Hobbie
Elliot's Kilbuck, or Wolfe of Avenel Castle:--see Fitz-James's
hounds returning from the pursuit of the lost stag--

'Back limped with slow and crippled pace
The sulky leaders of the chase'--

or swimming after the boat which carries their Master--

'With heads erect and whimpering cry
The hounds behind their passage ply.'

See Captain Clutterbuck's dog _quizzing_ him when he missed a
bird, or the scene of 'mutual explanation and remonstrance'
between 'the venerable patriarchs old Pepper and Mustard,' and
Henry Bertram's rough terrier Wasp. If these instances are not
sufficient, turn to the English bloodhound assailing the young
Buccleuch,--

'And hark! and hark! the deep-mouthed bark
Comes nigher still and nigher;
Bursts on the path a dark blood-hound,
His tawny muzzle tracked the ground,
And his red eye shot fire.
Soon as the wildered child saw he,
He flew at him right furiouslie....
I ween you would have seen with joy
The bearing of the gallant boy....
So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid,
At cautious distance hoarsely bayed,
But still in act to spring.'

Or Lord Ronald's deerhounds, in the haunted forest of
Glenfinlas,--

'Within an hour return'd each hound;
In rush'd the rousers of the deer;
They howl'd in melancholy sound,
Then closely couch beside the seer....
Sudden the hounds erect their ears,
And sudden cease their moaning howl;
Close press'd to Moy, they mark their fears
By shivering limbs and stifled growl.
Untouch'd the harp began to ring,
As softly, slowly, oped the door,' etc.

Or look at Cedric the Saxon, in his antique hall, attended by his
greyhounds and slowhounds, and the terriers which 'waited with
impatience the arrival of the supper; but, with the sagacious
knowledge of physiognomy peculiar to their race, forbore to
intrude upon the moody silence of their master.' To complete the
picture, 'One grisly old wolf-dog alone, with the liberty of an
indulged favorite, had planted himself close by the chair of
state, and occasionally ventured to solicit notice by putting his
large hairy head upon his master's knee, or pushing his nose into
his hand. Even he was repelled by the stern command, "Down,
Balder, down! I am not in the humor for foolery."'

"Another animated sketch occurs in the way of simile:--'The
interview between Ratcliffe and Sharpitlaw had an aspect
different from all these. They sate for five minutes silent, on
opposite sides of a small table, and looked fixedly at each
other, with a sharp, knowing, and alert cast of countenance, not
unmingled with an inclination to laugh, and resembled, more than
anything else, two dogs, who, preparing for a game at romps, are
seen to crouch down, and remain in that posture for a little
time, watching each other's movements, and waiting which shall
begin the game.'

"Let me point out a still more amusing study of canine life:
'While the Antiquary was in full declamation, Juno, who held him
in awe, according to the remarkable instinct by which dogs
instantly discover those who like or dislike them, had peeped
several times into the room, and, encountering nothing very
forbidding in his aspect, had at length presumed to introduce her
full person, and finally, becoming bold by impunity, she actually
ate up Mr. Oldbuck's toast, as, looking first at one, then at
another of his audience, he repeated with self-complacence,--

"'Weave the warp, and weave the woof.'--

You remember the passage in the Fatal Sisters, which, by the way,
is not so fine as in the original--But, hey-day! my toast has
vanished! I see which way--Ah, thou type of womankind, no wonder
they take offence at thy generic appellation!"--(So saying, he
shook his fist at Juno, who scoured out of the parlor.)'

"In short, throughout these works, wherever it is possible for a
dog to contribute in any way to the effect of a scene, we find
there the very dog that was required, in his proper place and
attitude. In Branksome Hall, when the feast was over,--

'The stag-hounds, weary with the chase,
Lay stretched upon the rushy floor,
And urged, in dreams, the forest race
From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor.'

The gentle Margaret, when she steals secretly from the castle,

'Pats the shaggy blood-hound
As he rouses him up from his lair.'

When Waverley visits the Baron of Bradwardine, in his concealment
at Janet Gellatley's, Ban and Buscar play their parts in every
point with perfect discretion; and in the joyous company that
assembles at Little Veolan, on the Baron's enlargement, these
honest animals are found 'stuffed to the throat with food, in the
liberality of Macwheeble's joy,' and 'snoring on the floor.' In
the perilous adventure of Henry Bertram, at Portanferry gaol, the
action would lose half its interest, without the by-play of
little Wasp. At the funeral ceremony of Duncraggan (in The Lady
of the Lake), a principal mourner is

----'Stumah, who, the bier beside,
His master's corpse with wonder eyed;
Poor Stumah! whom his least halloo
Could send like lightning o'er the dew.'

Ellen Douglas smiled (or did not smile)

----'to see the stately drake,
Lead forth his fleet upon the lake,
While her vexed spaniel from the beach,
Bayed at the prize beyond his reach.'

"I will close this growing catalogue of examples with one of the
most elegant descriptions that ever sprang from a poet's fancy:--

'Delightful praise! like summer rose,
That brighter in the dew-drop glows,
The bashful maiden's cheek appeared,
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard.
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide,
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide;
The loved caresses of the maid
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid;
And, at her whistle, on her hand,
The falcon took his favorite stand,
Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye,
Nor, though unhooded, sought to fly.'
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Their passion for martial subjects, and their success in
treating them, form a conspicuous point of resemblance between
the novelist and poet. No writer has appeared in our age (and few
have ever existed) who could vie with the author of Marmion in
describing battles and marches, and all the terrible grandeur of
war, except the author of Waverley. Nor is there any man of
original genius and powerful inventive talent as conversant with
the military character, and as well schooled in tactics, as the
author of Waverley, except the author of Marmion. Both seem to
exult in camps, and to warm at the approach of a soldier. In
every warlike scene that awes and agitates, or dazzles and
inspires, the poet triumphs; but where any effect is to be
produced by dwelling on the minutiae of military habits and
discipline, or exhibiting the blended hues of individual humor
and professional peculiarity, as they present themselves in the
mess-room or the guard-room, every advantage is on the side of
the novelist. I might illustrate this position by tracing all the
gradations of character marked out in the novels, from the Baron
of Bradwardine to Tom Halliday: but the examples are too well
known to require enumeration, and too generally admired to stand
in need of panegyric. Both writers, then, must have bestowed a
greater attention on military subjects, and have mixed more
frequently in the society of soldiers, than is usual with persons
not educated to the profession of arms.

"It may be asked, why we should take for granted that the writer
of these novels is not himself a member of the military
profession? The conjecture is a little improbable if we have been
right in concluding that the minuteness and multiplicity of our
author's legal details are the fruit of his own study and
practice, although the same person may certainly, at different
periods of life, put on the helmet and the wig, the gorget and
the band; attend courts and lie in trenches; head a charge and
lead a cause. I cannot help suspecting, however (it is with the
greatest diffidence I venture the remark), that in those warlike
recitals which so strongly interest the great body of readers, an
army critic would discover several particulars that savor more of
the amateur than of the practised campaigner. It is not from any
technical improprieties (if such exist) that I derive this
observation, but, on the contrary, from a too great minuteness
and over-curious diligence, at times perceptible in the military
details; which, amidst a seeming fluency and familiarity, betray,
I think, here and there, the lurking vestiges of labor and
contrivance, like the marks of pickaxes in an artificial grotto.
The accounts of operations in the field, if not more
circumstantial than a professional author would have made them,
are occasionally circumstantial on points which such an author
would have thought it idle to dwell upon. A writer who derived
his knowledge of war from experience would, no doubt, like the
Author of Waverley, delight in shaping out imaginary manoeuvres,
or in filling up the traditional outline of those martial
enterprises and conflicts, which have found a place in history;
perhaps, too, he would dwell on these parts of his narrative a
little longer than was strictly necessary; but in describing (for
example) the advance of a party of soldiers, threatened by an
ambuscade, he would scarcely think it worth while to relate at
large that the captain 're-formed his line of march, commanded
his soldiers to unsling their firelocks and fix their bayonets,
and formed an advanced and rear-guard, each consisting of a
non-commissioned officer and two privates, who received strict
orders to keep an alert look-out:' or that when the enemy
appeared, 'he ordered the rear-guard to join the centre, and both
to close up to the advance, doubling his files, so as to occupy
with his column the whole practicable part of the road,' etc.
Again, in representing a defeated corps retiring and pressed by
the enemy, he would probably never think of recording (as our
novelist does in his incomparable narrative of the engagement at
Drumclog) that the commanding officer gave such directions as
these: 'Let Allan form the regiment, and do you two retreat up
the hill in two bodies, each halting alternately as the other
falls back. I'll keep the rogues in check with the rear-guard,
making a stand and facing from time to time.' I do not offer
these observations for the purpose of depreciating a series of
military pictures, which have never been surpassed in richness,
animation, and distinctness; I will own, too, that such details
as I have pointed out are the fittest that could be selected for
the generality of novel-readers; I merely contend, that a writer
practically acquainted with war would either have passed over
these circumstances as too common to require particular mention,
or if he had thought it necessary to enlarge upon these, would
have dwelt with proportionate minuteness on incidents of a less
ordinary kind, which the recollections of a soldier would have
readily supplied, and his imagination would have rested on with
complacency. He would, in short, have left as little undone for
the military, as the present author has for the legal part of his
narratives. But the most ingenious writer who attempts to
discourse with technical familiarity on arts or pursuits with
which he is not habitually conversant, will too surely fall into
a superfluous particularity on common and trivial points,
proportioned to his deficiency in those nicer details which imply
practical knowledge....

"'The prince of darkness is a gentleman.'[132]

"Another point of resemblance between the author of Waverley and
him of Flodden Field is, that both are unquestionably men of good
society. Of the anonymous writer I infer this from his works; of
the poet it is unnecessary to deduce such a character from his
writings, because they are not anonymous. I am the more inclined
to dwell upon this merit in the novelist, on account of its
rarity; for among the whole multitude of authors, well or ill
educated, who devote themselves to poetry or to narrative or
dramatic fiction, how few there are who give any proof in their
works, of the refined taste, the instinctive sense of propriety,
the clear spirit of honor, nay, of the familiar acquaintance with
conventional forms of good-breeding, which are essential to the
character of a gentleman! Even of the small number who, in a
certain degree, possess these qualifications, how rarely do we
find one who can so conduct his fable, and so order his dialogue
throughout, that nothing shall be found either repugnant to
honorable feelings, or inconsistent with polished manners! How
constantly, even in the best works of fiction, are we disgusted
with such offences against all generous principle, as the reading
of letters by those for whom they were not intended; taking
advantage of accidents to overhear private conversation;
revealing what in honor should have remained secret; plotting
against men as enemies, and at the same time making use of their
services; dishonest practices on the passions or sensibilities of
women by their admirers; falsehoods, not always indirect; and an
endless variety of low artifices, which appear to be thought
quite legitimate if carried on through subordinate agents. And
all these knaveries are assigned to characters which the reader
is expected to honor with his sympathy, or at least to receive
into favor before the story concludes.

"The sins against propriety in manners are as frequent and as
glaring. I do not speak of the hoyden vivacity, harlot
tenderness, and dancing-school affability, with which vulgar
novel-writers always deck out their countesses and
_principessas_, chevaliers, dukes, and marquises; but it would be
easy to produce, from authors of a better class, abundant
instances of bookish and laborious pleasantry, of pert and
insipid gossip or mere slang, the wrecks, perhaps, of an obsolete
fashionable dialect, set down as the brilliant conversation of a
witty and elegant society; incredible outrages on the common
decorum of life, represented as traits of eccentric humor;
familiar raillery pushed to downright rudeness; affectation or
ill-breeding over-colored so as to become insupportable
insolence; extravagant rants on the most delicate topics indulged
in before all the world; expressions freely interchanged between
gentlemen, which, by the customs of that class, are neither used
nor tolerated; and quarrels carried on most bombastically and
abusively, even to mortal defiance, without a thought bestowed
upon the numbers, sex, nerves, or discretion of the bystanders.

"You will perceive, that in recapitulating the offences of other
writers, I have pronounced an indirect eulogium on the Author of
Waverley. No man, I think, has a clearer view of what is just and
honorable in principle and conduct, or possesses in a higher
degree that elegant taste, and that chivalrous generosity of
feeling, which, united with exact judgment, give an author the
power of comprehending and expressing, not merely the right and
fit, but the graceful and exalted in human action. As an
illustration of these remarks, a somewhat homely one perhaps, let
me call to your recollection the incident, so wild and
extravagant in itself, of Sir Piercie Shafton's elopement with
the miller's daughter. In the address and feeling with which the
author has displayed the high-minded delicacy of Queen
Elizabeth's courtier to the unguarded village nymph, in his brief
reflections arising out of this part of the narrative, and indeed
in his whole conception and management of the adventure, I do not
know whether the moralist or the gentleman is most to be admired:
it is impossible to praise too warmly either the sound taste, or
the virtuous sentiment which have imparted so much grace and
interest to such a hazardous episode.

"It may, I think, be generally affirmed, on a review of all the
six-and-thirty volumes, in which this author has related the
adventures of some twenty or more heroes and heroines (without
counting second-rate personages), that there is not an unhandsome
action or degrading sentiment recorded of any person who is
recommended to the full esteem of the reader. To be blameless on
this head is one of the strongest proofs a writer can give of
honorable principles implanted by education and refreshed by good
society.

"The correctness in morals is scarcely more remarkable than the
refinement and propriety in manners, by which these novels are
distinguished. Where the character of a gentleman is introduced,
we generally find it supported without affectation or constraint,
and often with so much truth, animation, and dignity, that we
forget ourselves into a longing to behold and converse with the
accomplished creature of imagination. It is true that the
volatile and elegant man of wit and pleasure, and the gracefully
fantastic _petite-maitresse_, are a species of character scarcely
ever attempted, and even the few sketches we meet with in this
style are not worthy of so great a master. But the aristocratic
country gentleman, the ancient lady of quality, the gallant
cavalier, the punctilious young soldier, and the jocund veteran,
whose high mind is mellowed, not subdued by years, are drawn with
matchless vigor, grace, and refinement. There is, in all these
creations, a spirit of gentility, not merely of that negative
kind which avoids giving offence, but of a strong, commanding,
and pervading quality, blending unimpaired with the richest humor
and wildest eccentricity, and communicating an interest and an
air of originality to characters which, without it, would be
wearisome and insipid, or would fade into commonplace. In
Waverley, for example, if it were not for this powerful charm,
the severe but warm-hearted Major Melville and the generous
Colonel Talbot would become mere ordinary machines for carrying
on the plot, and Sir Everard, the hero of an episode that might
be coveted by Mackenzie, would encounter the frowns of every
impatient reader, for unprofitably retarding the story at its
outset.

"But without dwelling on minor instances, I will refer you at
once to the character of Colonel Mannering, as one of the most
striking representations I am acquainted with, of a gentleman in
feelings and in manners, in habits, taste, predilections; nay, if
the expression may be ventured, a gentleman even in prejudices,
passions, and caprices. Had it been less than all I have
described; had any refinement, any nicety of touch, been wanting,
the whole portrait must have been coarse, common, and repulsive,
hardly distinguishable from the moody father and domineering
chieftain of every hackneyed romance-writer. But it was no vulgar
hand that drew the lineaments of Colonel Mannering: no ordinary
mind could have conceived that exquisite combination of sternness
and sensibility, injurious haughtiness and chivalrous courtesy;
the promptitude, decision, and imperious spirit of a military
disciplinarian; the romantic caprices of an untamable enthusiast;
generosity impatient of limit or impediment; pride scourged but
not subdued by remorse; and a cherished philosophical severity,
maintaining ineffectual conflicts with native tenderness and
constitutional irritability. Supposing that it had entered into
the thoughts of an inferior writer to describe a temper of mind
at once impetuous, kind, arrogant, affectionate, stern,
sensitive, deliberate, fanciful; supposing even that he had had
the skill to combine these different qualities harmoniously and
naturally,--yet how could he have attained the Shakespearean
felicity of those delicate and unambitious touches, by which this
author shapes and chisels out individual character from general
nature, and imparts a distinct personality to the creature of his
invention? Such are (for example) the slight tinge of
superstition, contracted by the romantic young Astrologer in his
adventure at Ellangowan, not wholly effaced in maturer life, and
extending itself by contagion to the mind of his daughter," etc.,
etc.

[Footnote 132: _King Lear_, Act III. Scene 4.]

It would have gratified Mr. Adolphus could he have known when he penned these pages a circumstance which the reperusal of them brings to my memory. When Guy Mannering was first published, the Ettrick Shepherd said to Professor Wilson, "I have done wi' doubts now. Colonel Mannering is just Walter Scott, painted by himself." This was repeated to James Ballantyne, and he again mentioned it to Scott--who smiled in approbation of the Shepherd's shrewdness, and often afterwards, when the printer expressed an opinion in which he could not concur, would cut him short with, "James--James--you'll find that Colonel Mannering has laid down the law on this point."--I resume my extract:--

"All the productions I am acquainted with, both of the poet and
of the prose writer, recommend themselves by a native piety and
goodness, not generally predominant in modern works of
imagination; and which, where they do appear, are too often
disfigured by eccentricity, pretension, or bad taste. In the
works before us there is a constant tendency to promote the
desire of excellence in ourselves, and the love of it in our
neighbors, by making us think honorably of our general nature.
Whatever kindly or charitable affection, whatever principle of
manly and honest ambition exists within us, is roused and
stimulated by the perusal of these writings; our passions are won
to the cause of justice, purity, and self-denial; and the old,
indissoluble ties that bind us to country, kindred, and
birthplace, appear to strengthen as we read, and brace themselves
more firmly about the heart and imagination. Both writers,
although peculiarly happy in their conception of all chivalrous
and romantic excellencies, are still more distinguished by their
deep and true feeling and expressive delineation of the graces
and virtues proper to domestic life. The gallant, elevated, and
punctilious character which a Frenchman contemplates in speaking
of '_un honnete homme_,' is singularly combined, in these
authors, with the genial, homely good qualities that win from a
Caledonian the exclamation of 'honest man!' But the crown of
their merits, as virtuous and moral writers, is the manly and
exemplary spirit with which, upon all seasonable occasions, they
pay honor and homage to religion, ascribing to it its just
preeminence among the causes of human happiness, and dwelling on
it as the only certain source of pure and elevated thoughts, and
upright, benevolent, and magnanimous actions.

"This, then, is common to the books of both writers,--that they
furnish a direct and distinguished contrast to the atrabilious
gloom of some modern works of genius, and the wanton, but not
artless levity of others. They yield a memorable, I trust an
immortal, accession to the evidences of a truth not always
fashionable in literature, that the mind of man may put forth all
its bold luxuriance of original thought, strong feeling, and
vivid imagination, without being loosed from any sacred and
social bond, or pruned of any legitimate affection; and that the
Muse is indeed a 'heavenly goddess,' and not a graceless, lawless
runagate,

'[Greek: aphretor, athemistos, anestios].'

"Good sense, the sure foundation of excellence in all the arts,
is another leading characteristic of these productions. Assuming
the author of Waverley and the author of Marmion to be the same
person, it would be difficult in our times to find a second
equally free from affectation, prejudice, and every other
distortion or depravity of judgment, whether arising from
ignorance, weakness, or corruption of morals. It is astonishing
that so voluminous and successful a writer should so seldom be
betrayed into any of those 'fantastic tricks' which, in such a
man, make 'the angels weep,' and (_e converso_) the critics
laugh. He adopts no fashionable cant, colloquial, philosophical,
or literary; he takes no delight in being unintelligible; he does
not amuse himself by throwing out those fine sentimental and
metaphysical threads which float upon the air, and tease and
tickle the passengers, but present no palpable substance to their
grasp; he aims at no beauties that 'scorn the eye of vulgar
light;' he is no dealer in paradoxes; no affecter of new
doctrines in taste or morals; he has no eccentric sympathies or
antipathies; no maudlin philanthropy, or impertinent cynicism; no
nondescript hobby-horse; and with all his matchless energy and
originality of mind, he is content to admire popular books, and
enjoy popular pleasures; to cherish those opinions which
experience has sanctioned; to reverence those institutions which
antiquity has hallowed; and to enjoy, admire, cherish, and
reverence all these with the same plainness, simplicity, and
sincerity as our ancestors did of old.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"I cannot help dwelling for a moment on the great similarity of
manner apparent in the female portraits of the two writers. The
pictures of their heroines are executed with a peculiar fineness,
delicacy, and minuteness of touch, and with a care at times
almost amounting to timidity, so that they generally appear more
highly finished, but less boldly and strikingly thrown out, than
the figures with which they are surrounded. Their elegance and
purity are always admirable, and are happily combined, in most
instances, with unaffected ease and natural spirit. Strong
practical sense is their most prevailing characteristic,
unaccompanied by any repulsive air of selfishness, pedantry, or
unfeminine harshness. Few writers have ever evinced, in so strong
a degree as the authors of Marmion and Waverley, that manly
regard, and dignified but enthusiastic devotion, which may be
expressed by the term loyalty to the fair sex, the honorable
attribute of chivalrous and romantic ages. If they touch on the
faults of womankind, their satire is playful, not contemptuous;
and their acquaintance with female manners, graces, and foibles,
is apparently drawn, not from libertine experience, but from the
guileless familiarity of domestic life.

"Of all human ties and connections there is none so frequently
brought in view, or adorned with so many touches of the most
affecting eloquence by both these writers, as the pure and tender
relation of father and daughter. Douglas and Ellen in The Lady of
the Lake will immediately occur to you as a distinguished
example. Their mutual affection and solicitude; their pride in
each other's excellencies; the parent's regret of the obscurity
to which fate has doomed his child; and the daughter's
self-devotion to her father's welfare and safety, constitute the
highest interest of the poem, and that which is most uniformly
sustained; nor does this or any other romance of the same author
contain a finer stroke of passion than the overboiling of
Douglas's wrath, when, mixed as a stranger with the crowd at
Stirling, he sees his daughter's favorite Lufra chastised by the
royal huntsman.

"In Rokeby, the filial attachment and duteous anxieties of
Matilda form the leading feature of her character, and the chief
source of her distresses. The intercourse between King Arthur and
his daughter Gyneth, in The Bridal of Triermain, is neither long,
nor altogether amicable; but the monarch's feelings on first
beholding that beautiful 'slip of wilderness,' and his manner of
receiving her before the queen and court, are too forcibly and
naturally described to be omitted in this enumeration.

"Of all the novels, there are at most but two or three in which a
fond father and affectionate daughter may not be pointed out
among the principal characters, and in which the main interest of
many scenes does not arise out of that paternal and filial
relation. What a beautiful display of natural feeling, under
every turn of circumstances that can render the situations of
child and parent agonizing or delightful, runs through the
history of David Deans and his two daughters! How affecting is
the tale of Leicester's unhappy Countess, after we have seen her
forsaken father consuming away with moody sorrow in his joyless
manor-house! How exquisite are the grouping and contrast of
Isaac, the kind but sordid Jew, and his heroic Rebecca, of the
buckram Baron of Bradwardine and the sensitive Rose, the reserved
but ardent Mannering, and the flighty coquette Julia! In The
Antiquary, and Bride of Lammermoor, anxiety is raised to the most
painful height by the spectacle of father and daughter exposed
together to imminent and frightful peril. The heroines in Rob Roy
and The Black Dwarf are duteous and devoted daughters, the one of
an unfortunate, the other of an unworthy parent. In the whole
story of Kenilworth there is nothing that more strongly indicates
a master-hand than the paternal carefulness and apprehensions of
the churl Foster; and among the most striking scenes in A Legend
of Montrose is that in which Sir Duncan Campbell is attracted by
an obscure yearning of the heart toward his unknown child, the
supposed orphan of Darlinvarach."

I must not attempt to follow out Mr. Adolphus in his most ingenious tracings of petty coincidences in thought, and, above all, in expression, between the poet of Marmion and the novelist of Waverley. His apology for the minuteness of his detail in that part of his work is, however, too graceful to be omitted: "It cannot, I think, appear frivolous or irrelevant, in the inquiry we are pursuing, to dwell on these minute coincidences. Unimportant indeed they are if looked upon as subjects of direct criticism; but considered with reference to our present purpose, they resemble those light substances which, floating on the trackless sea, discover the true setting of some mighty current: they are the buoyant driftwood which betrays the hidden communication of two great poetic oceans."

I conclude with re-quoting a fragment from one of the quaint tracts of Sir Thomas Urquhart. The following is the epigraph of Mr. Adolphus's 5th Letter:--

"O with how great liveliness did he represent the conditions of
all manner of men! From the overweening monarch to the peevish
swaine, through all intermediate degrees of the superficial
courtier or proud warrior, dissembling churchman, doting old man,
cozening lawyer, lying traveler, covetous merchant, rude seaman,
pedantick scolar, the amorous shepheard, envious artisan,
vain-glorious master, and tricky servant;----He had all the
jeers, squibs, flouts, buls, quips, taunts, whims, jests,
clinches, gybes, mokes, jerks, with all the several kinds of
equivocations and other sophistical captions, that could properly
be adapted to the person by whose representation he intended to
inveagle the company into a fit of mirth!"

I have it not in my power to produce the letter in which Scott conveyed to Heber his opinion of this work. I know, however, that it ended with a request that he should present Mr. Adolphus with his thanks for the handsome terms in which his poetical efforts had been spoken of throughout, and request him, in the name of the _author of Marmion_, not to revisit Scotland without reserving a day for Abbotsford; and the _Eidolon_ of the author of _Waverley_ was made, a few months afterwards, to speak as follows in the Introduction to The Fortunes of Nigel: "These letters to the member for the University of Oxford show the wit, genius, and delicacy of the author, which I heartily wish to see engaged on a subject of more importance; and show, besides, that the preservation of my character of _incognito_ has engaged early talent in the discussion of a curious question of evidence. But a cause, however ingeniously pleaded, is not therefore gained. You may remember the neatly wrought chain of circumstantial evidence, so artificially brought forward to prove Sir Philip Francis's title to the Letters of Junius, seemed at first irrefragable; yet the influence of the reasoning has passed away, and Junius, in the general opinion, is as much unknown as ever. But on this subject I will not be soothed or provoked into saying one word more. To say who I am not, would be one step towards saying who I am; and as I desire not, any more than a certain Justice of Peace mentioned by Shenstone, the noise or report such things make in the world, I shall continue to be silent on a subject which, in my opinion, is very undeserving the noise that has been made about it, and still more unworthy of the serious employment of such ingenuity as has been displayed by the young letter-writer."