Chapter II: Introduction: TO (2)

By the unexpected insolvency of his publisher, while the third edition was in process of sale, Hogg had nearly sustained a recurrence of pecuniary loss. This was, however, fortunately prevented by the considerate beneficence of Mr Goldie's trustees, who, on receiving payment of the printing expenses, made over the remainder of the impression to the author. One of the trustees was Mr Blackwood, afterwards the celebrated publisher of _Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine_. Hogg had now attained the unenviable reputation of a literary prodigy, and his studies were subject to constant interruption from admirers, and the curious who visited the capital. But he gave all a cordial reception, and was never less accessible amidst the most arduous literary occupation. There was one individual whose acquaintance he was especially desirous of forming; this was John Wilson, whose poem, "The Isle of Palms," published in 1812, had particularly arrested his admiration. Wilson had come to reside in Edinburgh during a portion of the year, but as yet had few acquaintances in the city. He was slightly known to Scott; but a peculiarity of his was a hesitation in granting letters of introduction. In despair of otherwise meeting him, Hogg, who had reviewed his poem in the _Scots Magazine_, sent him an invitation to dinner, which the Lake-poet was pleased cordially to accept. That dinner began one of the most interesting of the Shepherd's friendships; both the poets were pleased with each other, and the closest intimacy ensued. It was on his way to visit Wilson, at Elleray, his seat in Cumberland, during the autumn of 1814, that the Shepherd formed the acquaintance of the Poet-laureate. He had notified to Southey his arrival at one of the hotels in Keswick, and begged the privilege of a visit. Southey promptly acknowledged his summons, and insisted on his remaining a couple of days at Greta Hall to share his hospitality. Two years could not have more firmly rivetted their friendship. As a mark of his regard, on returning to Edinburgh Hogg sent the Laureate the third edition of "The Queen's Wake," then newly published, along with a copy of "The Spy." In acknowledging the receipt of these volumes, Southey addressed the following letter to the Shepherd, which is now for the first time published:--

"Keswick, _December 1, 1814._

"Dear Hogg,--Thank you for your books. I will not say
that 'The Queen's Wake' has exceeded my expectations,
because I have ever expected great things from you,
since, in 1805, I heard Walter Scott, by his own
fireside at Ashestiel, repeat 'Gilmanscleuch.'[31] When
he came to that line--'I ga'e him a' my goud,
father'--the look and the tone with which he gave it
were not needed to make it go through me. But 'The
Wake' has equalled all that I expected. The
improvements in the new edition are very great, and
they are in the two poems which were most deserving of
improvement, as being the most impressive and the most
original. Each is excellent in its way, but 'Kilmeny'
is of the highest character; 'The Witch of Fife' is a
real work of fancy--'Kilmeny' a fine one of
imagination, which is a higher and rarer gift. These
poems have given general pleasure throughout the house;
my eldest girl often comes out with a stanza or two of
'The Witch,' but she wishes sometimes that you always
wrote in English. 'The Spy' I shall go through more at
leisure.

"I like your praise both of myself and my poem, because
it comes from a good quarter. You saw me where and how
a man is best seen--at home, and in his every-day wear
and tear, mind and manners: I have no holiday suit, and
never seek to shine: such as it is, my light is always
burning. Somewhat of my character you may find in
Chaucer's Clerk of Oxenford; and the concluding line of
that description might be written, as the fittest
motto, under my portrait--'Gladly would he learn, and
gladly teach.' I have sinned enough to make me humble
in myself, and indulgent toward others. I have suffered
enough to find in religion not merely consolation, but
hope and joy; and I have seen enough to be contented
in, and thankful for, the state of life in which it has
pleased God to place me.

"We hoped to have seen you on your way back from
Ellery. I believe you did not get the ballad of the
'Devil and the Bishop,' which Hartley transcribed for
you. I am reprinting my miscellaneous poems, collected
into three volumes. Your projected publication[32] will
have the start of it greatly, for the first volume is
not nearly through the press, and there is a corrected
copy of the ballad, with its introduction, in
Ballantyne's hands, which you can make use of before it
will be wanted in its place.

"You ask me why I am not intimate with Wilson. There is
a sufficient reason in the distance between our
respective abodes. I seldom go even to Wordworth's or
Lloyd's; and Ellery is far enough from either of their
houses, to make a visit the main business of a day. So
it happens that except dining in his company once at
Lloyd's many years ago, and breakfasting with him here
not long afterwards, I have barely exchanged
salutations once or twice when we met upon the road.
Perhaps, however, I might have sought him had it not
been for his passion for cock-fighting. But this is a
thing which I regard with abhorrence.

"Would that 'Roderick' were in your hands for
reviewing; I should desire no fairer nor more competent
critic. But it is of little consequence what friends or
enemies may do for it now; it will find its due place
in time, which is slow but sure in its decisions. From
the nature of my studies, I may almost be said to live
in the past; it is to the future that I look for my
reward, and it would be difficult to make any person
who is not thoroughly intimate with me, understand how
completely indifferent I am to the praise or censure of
the present generation, farther than as it may affect
my means of subsistence, which, thank God, it can no
longer essentially do. There was a time when I was
materially injured by unjust criticism; but even then I
despised it, from a confidence in myself, and a natural
buoyancy of spirit. It cannot injure me now, but I
cannot hold it in more thorough contempt.

"Come and visit me when the warm weather returns. You
can go nowhere that you will be more sincerely
welcomed. And may God bless you.

"Robert Southey."

In waging war with the Lake school of poetry, the _Edinburgh Review_ had dealt harshly with Southey. His poems of "Madoc" and "The Curse of Kehama" had been rigorously censured, and very shortly before the appearance of "Roderick," his "Triumphal Ode" for 1814, which was published separately, had been assailed with a continuance of the same unmitigated severity. The Shepherd, who knew, notwithstanding the Laureate's professions of indifference to criticism, that his nature was sensitive, and who feared that the _Review_ would treat "Roderick" as it had done Southey's previous productions, ventured to recommend him to evince a less avowed hostility to Jeffrey, in the hope of subduing the bitterness of his censure. The letter of Southey, in answer to this counsel, will prove interesting, in connexion with the literary history of the period. The Bard of Keswick had hardly advanced to that happy condition which he fancied he had reached, of being "indulgent toward others," at least under the influence of strong provocation:--

"Keswick, _24th Dec. 1814._

"Dear Hogg,--I am truly obliged to you for the
solicitude which you express concerning the treatment
'Roderick' may experience in the _Edinburgh Review_,
and truly gratified by it, notwithstanding my perfect
indifference as to the object in question. But you
little know me, if you imagine that any thoughts of
fear or favour would make me abstain from speaking
publicly of Jeffrey as I think, and as he deserves. I
despise his commendation, and I defy his malice. _He_
crush the 'Excursion!!!'[33] Tell him that he might as
easily crush Skiddaw. For myself, _popularity_ is not
the mark I shoot at; if it were, I should not write
such poems as 'Roderick;' and Jeffrey can no more stand
in my way to _fame_, than Tom Thumb could stand in my
way in the street.

"He knows that he has dealt unfairly and maliciously by
me; he knows that the world knows it, that his very
friends know it, and that if he attacks 'Roderick' as
he did 'Madoc' and 'Kehama,' it will be universally
imputed to personal ill-will. On the other hand, he
cannot commend this poem without the most flagrant
inconsistency. This would be confessing that he has
wronged me in the former instances; for no man will
pretend to say that 'Madoc' does not bear marks of the
same hand as 'Roderick;' it has the same character of
language, thought, and feeling; it is of the same ore
and mint; and if the one poem be bad, the other cannot
possibly be otherwise. The irritation of the _nettling_
(as you term it), which he has already received [a
portion of the letter is torn off and lost]....
Whatever part he may take, my conduct towards him will
be the same. I consider him a public nuisance, and
shall deal with him accordingly.

"Nettling is a gentle term for what he has to undergo.
In due season he shall be _scorpioned_ and
_rattlesnaked_. When I take him in hand it shall be to
dissect him alive, and make a preparation of him to be
exhibited _in terrorem_, an example to all future
pretenders to criticism. He has a forehead of native
brass, and I will write upon it with aqua-fortis. I
will serve him up to the public like a turkey's
gizzard, sliced, scored, peppered, salted, cayanned,
grilled, and bedevilled. I will bring him to justice;
he shall be executed in prose, and gibbeted in
verse....[34]

.... "'Roderick' has made good speed in the world, and
ere long I shall send you the poem in a more commodious
shape,[35] for Ballantyne is at this time reprinting
it. I finished my official ode a few days ago. It is
without rhyme, and as unlike other official odes in
matter as in form; for its object is to recommend, as
the two great objects of policy, general education and
extensive colonization. At present, I am chiefly
occupied upon 'The History of Brazil,' which is in the
press--a work of great labour.

"The ladies here all desire to be kindly remembered to
you. I have ordered 'The Pilgrims of the Sun,' and we
look for it with expectation, which, I am sure, will
not be disappointed. God bless you.--Yours very truly,

"Robert Southey."

A review of "Roderick" appeared in the _Edinburgh Review_ for June 1815, which on the whole was favourable, so that the wrath of the Laureate was appeased.

During the earlier period of his Edinburgh career, Hogg had formed the acquaintance of an estimable family in Athol, Mr and Mrs Izett, of Kinnaird House, and he had been in the habit of spending a portion of his time every summer at their hospitable residence. In the summer of 1814, while visiting there, he was seized with a severe cold, which compelled him to prolong his stay with his friends; and Mrs Izett, who took a warm interest in his welfare, suggested that he might turn his illness to account, by composing a poem, descriptive of the beauties of the surrounding scenery. The hint was sufficient; he commenced a descriptive poem in the Spenserian stanza, which was speedily completed, and given to the world under the title of "Mador of the Moor." It was well received; and the author is correct in asserting that it contains "some of his highest and most fortunate efforts in rhyme." "The Pilgrims of the Sun" was his next poem; it was originally intended as one of a series, to be contained in a poetical work, which he proposed to entitle "Midsummer Night Dreams," but which, on the advice of his friend, Mr James Park of Greenock, he was induced to abandon. From its peculiar strain, this poem had some difficulty in finding a publisher; it was ultimately published by Mr John Murray of London, who liberally recompensed the author, and it was well received by the press.

The circle of the Shepherd's literary friends rapidly extended. Lord Byron opened a correspondence with him, and continued to address him in long familiar letters, such as were likely to interest a shepherd-bard. Unfortunately, these letters have been lost; it was a peculiarity of Hogg to be careless in regard to his correspondence. With Wordsworth he became acquainted in the summer of 1815, when that poet was on his first visit to Edinburgh. They met at the house, in Queen Street, of the mother of his friend Wilson; and the Shepherd was at once interested and gratified by the intelligent conversation and agreeable manners of the great Lake-poet. They saw much of each other in the city, and afterwards journeyed together to St Mary's Loch; and the Shepherd had the satisfaction of entertaining his distinguished brother-bard with the homely fare of cakes and milk, in his father's cottage at Ettrick. Wordsworth afterwards made the journey memorable in his poem of "Yarrow Visited." The poets temporarily separated at Selkirk,--Wordsworth having secured the promise of a visit from his friend, at Mount Ryedale, prior to his return to Edinburgh. The promise was duly fulfilled; and the Shepherd had the pleasure of meeting, during his visit, Lloyd, and De Quincey, and his dear friend Wilson. A portion of the autumn of 1815 was spent by the Shepherd at Elleray. In the letter inviting his visit (dated September 1815), the author of "The Isle of Palms" indicates his opinion of the literary influence of his correspondent, by writing as follows:--"If you have occasion soon to write to Murray,[36] pray introduce something about 'The City of the Plague,' as I shall probably offer him that poem in about a fortnight, or sooner. Of course, I do not _wish_ you to say that the poem is utterly worthless. I think that a bold eulogy from you (if administered immediately), would be of service to me; but if you do write about it, do not tell him that I have any intention of offering it to him, but you may say, you hear I am going to offer it to a London bookseller."

The Shepherd's intimacy with the poets had induced him to entertain a somewhat plausible scheme of bettering his finances. He proposed to publish, in a handsome volume, a poem by each of the living bards of Great Britain. For this purpose, he had secured pieces from Southey, Wilson, Wordsworth, Lloyd, Morehead, Pringle, Paterson, and some others; and had received promises of contributions from Lord Byron and Samuel Rogers. The plan was frustrated by Scott. He was opposed to his appearing to seek fresh laurels from the labours of others, and positively refused to make a contribution. This sadly mortified the Shepherd,[37] and entirely altered his plans. He had now recourse to a peculiar method of realising his original intention. In the short period of four weeks, he produced imitations of the more conspicuous bards, which speedily appeared in a volume entitled "The Poetic Mirror." This work, singularly illustrative of the versatility of his genius, was eminently successful, the first edition disappearing in the course of six weeks. The imitations of the bards were pronounced perfect, only that of Wordsworth was intentionally a caricature; the Shepherd had been provoked to it by a conceived slight of the Lake-poet, during his visit at Mount Ryedale.[38]

"The Poetic Mirror" appeared in 1816; and in the following year the Shepherd struck out a new path, by publishing two duodecimo volumes of "Dramatic Tales." This work proved unsuccessful. In 1813 he had dedicated his "Forest Minstrel" to the Countess of Dalkeith; and this amiable and excellent woman, afterwards better known as Harriet, Duchess of Buccleuch, had acknowledged the compliment by a gift of a hundred guineas, and several other donations. The Shepherd was, however, desirous of procuring the means of comfortable self-support, independently of his literary exertions; and had modestly preferred the request that he might receive a small farm in lease on the Buccleuch estates. The request was at length responded to. The Duchess, who took a deep interest in him, made a request to the Duke, on her death-bed, that something might be done for her ingenious protege. After her decease, the late Charles, Duke of Buccleuch, gave the Shepherd a life-lease of the farm of Altrive Lake, in Yarrow, at a nominal rent, no portion of which was ever exacted. The Duke subsequently honoured him with his personal friendship, and made him frequently share of his hospitality.

From the time of his abandoning "The Spy," Hogg had contemplated the publication of a periodical on an extended scale. At length, finding a coadjutor in Mr Thomas Pringle, he explained their united proposal to his friend, Mr Blackwood, the publisher, who highly approved of the design. Preliminaries were arranged, and the afterwards celebrated _Blackwood's Magazine_ took its origin. Hogg was now resident at Altrive, and the editorship was entrusted to Pringle and his literary friend Cleghorn. The vessel had scarcely been well launched, however, on the ocean of letters, when storms arose a-head; hot disputes occurred between the publisher and the editors, which ultimately terminated in the withdrawal of the latter from the concern, and their connexion with the _Edinburgh Magazine_, an opposition periodical established by Mr Constable. The combating parties had referred to the Shepherd, who was led to accord his support to Mr Blackwood. He conceived the idea of the "Chaldee Manuscript," as a means of ridiculing the oppositionists. Of this famous satire, the first thirty-seven verses of chapter first, with several other sentences throughout, were his own composition, the remaining portion being the joint fabrication of his friends Wilson and Lockhart.[39] This singular production produced a sensation in the capital unequalled in the history of any other literary performance; and though, from the evident personalities and the keenness of the satire, it had to be cancelled, so that a copy in the pages of the magazine is now a rarity, it sufficiently attained the purpose of directing public attention to the newly-established periodical. The "Chaldee Manuscript" appeared in the seventh number of _Blackwood's Magazine_, published in October 1817. To the magazine Hogg continued to be a regular contributor; and, among other interesting compositions, both in prose and verse, he produced in its pages his narrative of the "Shepherd's Calendar." His connexion with this popular periodical is more generally known from the position assigned him in the "_Noctes Ambrosianae_" of Professor Wilson. In those interesting dialogues, the _Shepherd_ is represented as a character of marvellous shrewdness and sagacity, whose observations on men and manners, life and literature, uttered, as they are, in the homeliest phrases, contain a depth of philosophy and vigour of criticism rarely exhibited in the history of real or fictitious biography. "In wisdom," writes Professor Ferrier, "the Shepherd equals the Socrates of Plato; in humour, he surpasses the Falstaff of Shakspeare; clear and prompt, he might have stood up against Dr Johnson in close and peremptory argument; fertile and copious, he might have rivalled Burke in amplitude of declamation; while his opulent imagination and powers of comical description invest all that he utters, either with a picturesque mildness or a graphic quaintness peculiarly his own." These remarks, applicable to the Shepherd of the "_Noctes_," would, indeed, be much overstrained if applied to their prototype; yet it is equally certain that the leading features of the ideal Shepherd were depicted from those of the living Shepherd of Ettrick, by one who knew well how to estimate and appreciate human nature.

On taking possession of his farm of Altrive Lake, which extended to about seventy acres, Hogg built a small cottage on the place, in which he received his aged father, his mother having been previously called to her rest. In the stocking of the farm, he received very considerable assistance from the profits of a guinea edition of "The Queen's Wake," of which the subscribers' list was zealously promoted by Sir Walter Scott. At Altrive he continued literary composition with unabated ardour. In 1817, he published "The Brownie of Bodsbeck," a tale of the period of the Covenant, which attained a considerable measure of popularity. In 1819, he gave to the world the first volume of his "Jacobite Relics," the second volume not appearing till 1821. This work, which bears evidence of extensive labour and research, was favourably received; the notes are lengthy and copious, and many of the pieces, which are set to music, have long been popular. His "Winter Evening Tales" appeared in 1820: several of them were composed on the hills in early life.

The worldly circumstances of the Shepherd now were such as rendered him abundantly justifiable in entering into the married state. On the 28th April 1820, he espoused Miss Margaret Phillips, the youngest daughter of Mr Phillips, late of Longbridgemoor, in Annandale. By this union he became brother-in-law of his friend Mr James Gray, whose first wife was a sister of Mrs Hogg. At the period of his marriage, from the profits of his writings and his wife's dowry, he was master of nearly a thousand pounds and a well-stocked farm; and increasing annual gains by his writings, seemed to augur future independence. But the Shepherd, not perceiving that literature was his forte, resolved to embark further in farming speculations; he took in lease the extensive farm of Mount Benger, adjoining Altrive Lake, expending his entire capital in the stocking. The adventure proved almost ruinous.

The coronation of George IV. was fixed to take place on the 19th of July 1821; and Sir Walter Scott having resolved to be among the spectators, invited the Shepherd to accompany him to London on the occasion. Through Lord Sidmouth, the Secretary of State, he had procured accommodation for Hogg at the pageant, which his lordship had granted, with the additional favour of inviting both of them to dinner, to meet the Duke of York on the following day. The Shepherd had, however, begun to feel more enthusiastic as a farmer than a poet, and preferred to attend the sheep-market at St Boswells. For this seeming lack of loyalty, he afterwards made ample compensation; he celebrated the King's visit to Scotland, in August 1822, in "a Masque or Drama," which was published in a separate form. A copy of this production being laid before the King by Sir Walter Scott, Sir Robert Peel, then Secretary of State, received his Majesty's gracious command suitably to acknowledge it. In his official communication, Sir Robert thanked the Shepherd, in the King's name, "for the gratifying proof of his genius and loyalty." It had been Scott's desire to obtain a Civil List pension for the Shepherd, to aid him in his struggles at Mount Benger; and it was with something like hope that he informed him that Sir Robert Peel had expressed himself pleased with his writings. But the pension was never obtained.

Harassed by pecuniary difficulties, Hogg wrote rapidly, with the view of relieving himself. In 1822, he published a new edition of his best poems, in four volumes, for which he received the sum of L200; and in this and the following year, he produced two works of fiction, entitled, "The Three Perils of Man," and "The Three Perils of Women," which together yielded him L300. In 1824, he published "The Confessions of a Fanatic;" and, in 1826, he gave to the world his long narrative poem of "Queen Hynde." The last proved unequal to his former poetical efforts. In 1826, Mr J. G. Lockhart proceeded to London to edit the _Quarterly Review_, taking along with him, as his assistant, Robert Hogg, a son of the Shepherd's elder brother. The occasion afforded the poet an opportunity of renewing his correspondence with his old friend, Allan Cunningham. Allan wrote to him as follows:--

"27 Lower Belgrave Place, _16th Feb. 1826._

"My dear James,--It required neither present of book,
nor friend, nor the recalling of old scenes, to render
your letter a most welcome one. You are often present
to my heart and fancy, for your genius and your
friendliness have secured you a place in both. Your
nephew is a fine, modest, and intelligent young man,
and is welcome to my house for his own sake as well as
yours. Your 'Queen Hynde,' for which I thank you,
carries all the vivid marks of your own peculiar cast
of genius about her. One of your very happiest little
things is in the Souvenir of this season--it is pure
and graceful, warm, yet delicate; and we have nought in
the language to compare to it, save everybody's
'Kilmeny.' In other portions of verse you have been
equalled, and sometimes surpassed; but in scenes which
are neither on earth, nor wholly removed from it--where
fairies speak, and spiritual creatures act, you are
unrivalled.

"Often do I tread back to the foot of old
Queensberry,[40] and meet you coming down amid the
sunny rain, as I did some twenty years ago. The little
sodded shealing where we sought shelter rises now on my
sight--your two dogs (old Hector was one) lie at my
feet--the 'Lay of the Last Minstrel' is in my hand, for
the first time, to be twice read over after sermon, as
it really was--poetry, nothing but poetry, is our talk,
and we are supremely happy. Or, I shift the scene to
Thornhill, and there whilst the glass goes round, and
lads sing and lasses laugh, we turn our discourse on
verse, and still our speech is song. Poetry had then a
charm for us, which has since been sobered down. I can
now meditate without the fever of enthusiasm upon me;
yet age to youth owes all or most of its happiest
aspirations, and contents itself with purifying and
completing the conceptions of early years.

"We are both a little older and a little graver than we
were some twenty years ago, when we walked in glory and
joy on the side of old Queensberry. My wife is much the
same in look as when you saw her in Edinburgh--at least
so she seems to me, though five boys and a girl might
admonish me of change--of loss of bloom, and abatement
of activity. My oldest boy resolves to be a soldier; he
is a clever scholar, and his head has been turned by
Caesar. My second and third boys are in Christ's School,
and are distinguished in their classes; they climb to
the head, and keep their places. The other three are at
their mother's knee at home, and have a strong capacity
for mirth and mischief.

"I have not destroyed my Scottish poem. I mean to
remodel it, and infuse into it something more of the
spark of living life. But my pen has of late strayed
into the regions of prose. Poetry is too much its own
reward; and one cannot always write for a barren smile,
and a thriftless clap on the back. We must live; and
the white bread and the brown can only be obtained by
gross payment. There is no poet and a wife and six
children fed now like the prophet Elijah--they are more
likely to be devoured by critics, than fed by ravens. I
cannot hope that Heaven will feed me and mine while I
sing. So farewell to song for a season.

"My brother's[41] want of success has surprised me too.
He had a fair share of talent; and, had he cultivated
his powers with care, and given himself fair play, his
fate would have been different. But he sees nature
rather through a curious medium than with the tasteful
eye of poetry, and must please himself with the praise
of those who love singular and curious things. I have
said nothing all this while of Mrs Hogg, though I might
have said much, for we hear her household prudence and
her good taste often commended. She comes, too, from my
own dear country--a good assurance of a capital wife
and an affectionate mother. My wife and I send her and
you most friendly greetings. We hope to see you both in
London during the summer.

"You have written much, but you must write more yet.
What say you to a series of poems in your own original
way, steeped from end to end in Scottish superstition,
but purified from its grossness by your own genius and
taste? Do write me soon. I have a good mind to come and
commence shepherd beside you, and aid you in making a
yearly pastoral _Gazette_ in prose and verse for our
_ain_ native Lowlands. The thing would take.

"The evil news of Sir Walter's losses came on me like
an invasion. I wish the world would do for him now what
it will do in fifty years, when it puts up his statue
in every town--let it lay out its money in purchasing
an estate, as the nation did to the Duke of Wellington,
and money could never be laid out more worthily.--I
remain, dear James, your very faithful friend,

"Allan Cunningham."

One of the parties chiefly aggrieved in the matter of the Chaldee MS. was Thomas Pringle, one of the original editors of _Blackwood_. This ingenious person had lately returned from a period of residence in Southern Africa, and established himself in London as secretary to the Slave Abolition Society, and a man of letters. Forgetting past differences, he invited the Shepherd, in the following letter, to aid him in certain literary enterprises:--

"London, _May 19, 1827._

"My dear Sir,--I wrote you a hasty note some time ago,
to solicit your literary aid for the projected work of
Mr Fraser. I now address you on behalf of two other
friends of mine, who are about to start a new weekly
publication, something in the shape of the _Literary
Gazette_, to be entitled _The London Review_. The
editors are Mr D. L. Richardson, the author of a volume
of poems chiefly written in India, and a Mr St John, a
young gentleman of very superior talents, whose name
has not yet been (so far as I know) before the public,
though he has been a contributor to several of the
first-rate periodicals. I have no other interest in the
work myself than that of a friend and contributor. The
editors, knowing that I have the pleasure of your
acquaintance, have requested me to solicit your aid to
their work, either in verse or prose, and they will
consider themselves pledged to pay for any
contributions with which you may honour them at the
same rate as _Blackwood_. May I hope, my dear sir, that
you will, at all events, stretch a point to send them
something for their first number, which is to appear in
the beginning of June....

"I always read your '_Noctes_,' and have had many a
hearty laugh with them in the interior of Southern
Africa; for though I detest _Blackwood's_ politics, and
regret to see often such fine talents so sadly
misapplied (as I see the matter), yet I have never
permitted my own political predilections, far less any
reminiscences of old magazine squabbles, to blind me to
the exuberant flow of genius which pervades and
beautifies so many delightful articles in that
magazine.... Believe me always, dear Hogg, yours very
truly,

"Tho. Pringle."

A similar request for contributions was made the year following by William Howitt. His letter is interesting, as exhibiting the epistolary style of a popular writer. Howitt, it will be perceived, is a member of the Society of Friends.

"Nottingham, _12th mo., 20th, 1828._

"Respected Friend,--Herewith I forward, for thy
acceptance, two small volumes, as a trifling testimony
of the high estimation in which we have long held thy
writings. So great was our desire to see thee when my
wife and I were, a few springs ago, making a ramble on
foot through some parts of your beautiful country, that
nothing but the most contrary winds of circumstance
prevented us.

"I am now preparing for the press 'The Book of the
Seasons,' a volume of prose and poetry, intended to
furnish the lover of nature with a remembrancer, to put
him in mind, on the opening of each month, of what he
may look for in his garden, or his country walks; a
notice of all remarkable in the round of the seasons,
and the beautiful in scenery,--of all that is pleasant
in rural sights, sounds, customs, and occupations. I
hope to make it, if I am favoured with health, in a
little time, both a pleasant and original volume, and
one which may do its mite towards strengthening and
diffusing that healthful love of nature which is so
desirable in a great commercial country like this,
where our manufacturing population are daily spreading
over its face, and cut off themselves from the
animating and heart-preserving influence of
nature,--are also swallowing up our forests and heaths,
those free, and solitary, and picturesque places, which
have fostered the soul of poetry in so many of our
noble spirits. I quite envy thy residence in so bold
and beautiful a region, where the eye and the foot may
wander, without being continually offended and
obstructed by monotonous hedge-rows, and abominable
factories. If thou couldst give, from the ample stores
of thy observant mind, a slight sketch or two of
anything characteristic of the seasons, in
_mountainous_ scenery especially, I shall regard them
as apples of gold. I am very anxious to learn whether
any particular customs or festivities are kept up in
the sheep-districts of Scotland at sheep-shearing time,
as were wont of old all over England; and where is
there a man who could solve such a problem like
thyself? I am sensible of the great boldness of my
request; but as my object is to promote the love of
nature, I am willing to believe that I am not more
influenced by such a feeling than thou art. I intend to
have the book got out in a handsome manner, and to have
it illustrated with woodcuts, by the best artists;
being more desirous to give to others that ardent
attachment to the beauties of the country that has
clung to me from a boy, and for the promotion of which
all our real poets are so distinguished, than to
realise much profit. Anything that thou couldst send me
about your country life, or the impression which the
scenery makes upon a poetical mind at different
seasons, on your heaths and among your hills, I should
be proud to acknowledge, and should regard as the gems
of my book. Whether or not, however, it be practicable
or agreeable to thee, I hope to have the pleasure of
presenting thee a copy of the work when it is out. Mary
requests me to present to thee her respectful regards;
and allow me to subscribe myself, with great respect,
thy friend,

"W. Howitt."

In 1829, on the expiry of his lease, Hogg relinquished the farm of Mount Benger, and returned to his former residence at Altrive. Rumour, ever ready to propagate tales of misfortune, had busily circulated the report that, a completely ruined man, he had again betaken himself to literary labours in the capital. In this belief, Mr Tennant, author of "Anster Fair," addressed to him the following characteristic letter, intended, by its good-humoured pleasantries, to soothe him in his contendings with adversity:--

"Devongrove, _27th June 1829._

"My dear Friend James Hogg,--I have never seen, spoken,
whispered to, handled, or smelt you, since the King's
visit in 1822, when I met you in Edinburgh street, and
inhaled, by juxtaposition, your sweet fraternal breath.
How the Fates have since sundered us! How have you been
going on, fattening and beautifying from one degree to
another of poetical perfection, while I have, under the
chilling shade of the Ochil Hills, been dwindling down
from one degree of poetical extenuation to another,
till at length I am become the very shadow and ghost of
literary leanness! I should now wish to see you, and
compare you as you are now with what you were in your
'Queen's Wake' days. For this purpose, I would be very
fain you would condescend to pay us a visit. I see you
indeed, at times, in the _Literary Journal_; I see you
in _Blackwood_, fighting, and reaping a harvest of
beautiful black eyes from the fists of Professor John
Wilson. I see you in songs, in ballads, in calendars. I
see you in the postern of time long elapsed. I see you
in the looking-glass of my own facetious and
song-recalling memory--but I should wish to see you in
the real, visible, palpable, smellable beauty of your
own person, standing before me in my own house, at my
own fireside, in all the halo of your poetical
radiance! Come over, then, if possible, my dear
Shepherd, and stay a night or two with us. You may
tarry with your friend, Mr Bald, one afternoon or so by
the way, and explore the half-forgotten treasures of
the Shakspeare cellars[42]--but you may rest yourself
under the shadow of the Ochil Hills a longer space,
and enjoy the beauties of our scenery, and, such as it
is, the fulness of our hospitality, which, believe me,
will be spouted out upon you freely and rejoicingly.

"To be serious in speech, I really wish you would take
a trip up this way some time during the summer. I
understand you are settled in Edinburgh, and in that
thought have now addressed you. If I am wrong, write
me. Indeed, write me at any rate, as I would wish again
to see your fist at least, though the Fates should
forbid my seeing your person here. But I think you
would find some pleasure in visiting again your Alloa
friends, to say nothing of the happiness we should have
in seeing you at Devongrove.... Be sure to write me
now, James, in answer to this; and believe me to be,
ever most sincerely yours,

"Wm. Tennant."

The Shepherd's next literary undertaking was an edition of Burns, published at Glasgow. In this task he had an able coadjutor in the poet Motherwell. In 1831, he published a collected edition of his songs, which received a wide circulation. On account of some unfortunate difference with Blackwood, he proceeded in December of that year to London, with the view of effecting an arrangement for the republication of his whole works. His reception in the metropolis was worthy of his fame; he was courted with avidity by all the literary circles, and feted at the tables of the nobility. A great festival, attended by nearly two hundred persons, including noblemen, members of Parliament, and men of letters, was given him in Freemasons' Hall, on the anniversary of the birthday of Burns. The duties of chairman were discharged by Sir John Malcolm, who had the Shepherd on his right hand, and two sons of Burns on his left. After dinner, the Shepherd brewed punch in the punch-bowl of Burns, which was brought to the banquet by its present owner, Mr Archibald Hastie, M.P. for Paisley. He obtained a publisher for his works in the person of Mr James Cochrane, an enterprising bookseller in Pall Mall, who issued the first volume of the series on the 31st of March 1832, under the designation of the "Altrive Tales." By the unexpected failure of the publisher, the series did not proceed, so that the unfortunate Shepherd derived no substantial advantage from a three months' residence in London.

Recent reverses had somewhat depressed his literary ardour; and, though his immediate embarrassments were handsomely relieved by private subscriptions and a donation from the Literary Fund, he felt indisposed vigorously to renew his literary labours. He did not reappear as an author till 1834, when he published a volume of essays on religion and morals, under the title of "Lay Sermons on Good Principles and Good Breeding." This work was issued from the establishment of Mr James Fraser, of Regent Street. In the May number of _Blackwood's Magazine_ for 1834, he again appeared before the public in the celebrated "_Noctes_," which had been discontinued for upwards of two years, owing to his misunderstanding with Mr Blackwood. On this subject we are privileged to publish the following letter, addressed to him by Professor Wilson:--

"_30th April._

"My dear Mr Hogg,--After frequent reflection on the
estrangement that has so long subsisted between those
who used to be such good friends, I have felt convinced
that _I_ ought to put an end to it on my own
responsibility. Without, therefore, asking either you
or Mr Blackwood, I have written a '_Noctes_,' in which
my dear Shepherd again appears. I hope you will think I
have done right. I intend to write six within the year;
and it is just, and no more than just, that you should
receive five guineas a sheet. Enclosed is that sum for
No. I. of the new series.

"If you will, instead of writing long tales, for which
at present there is no room, write a 'Series of Letters
to Christopher North,' or, 'Flowers and Weeds from the
Forest,' or, 'My Life at Altrive,' embodying your
opinions and sentiments on all things, _angling_,
shooting, curling, &c., &c., in an easy characteristic
style, it will be easy for you to add L50 per annum to
the L50 which you will receive for your '_Noctes_.' I
hope you will do so.

"I have taken upon myself a responsibility which
nothing but the sincerest friendship could have induced
me to do. You may be angry; you may misjudge my
motives; yet hardly can I think it. Let the painful in
the past be forgotten, and no allusion ever made to it;
and for the future, I shall do all I can to prevent
anything happening that can be disagreeable to your
feelings.--With kind regards to Mrs Hogg and family, I
am ever most sincerely and affectionately yours,

"John Wilson."

During the summer after his return from London, Hogg received what he accounted his greatest literary honour. He was entertained at a public dinner, attended by many of the distinguished literary characters both of Scotland and the sister kingdom. The dinner took place at Peebles, the chair being occupied by Professor Wilson. In reply to the toast of his health, he pleasantly remarked, that he had courted fame on the hill-side and in the city; and now, when he looked around and saw so many distinguished individuals met together on his account, he could exclaim that surely he had found it at last!

The career of the Bard of Ettrick was drawing to a close. His firm and well-built frame was beginning to surrender under the load of anxiety, as well as the pressure of years. Subsequent to his return from London, a perceptible change had occurred in his constitution, yet he seldom complained; and, even so late as April 1835, he gave to the world evidence of remaining bodily and mental vigour, by publishing a work in three volumes, under the title of "Montrose Tales." This proved to be his last publication. The symptoms of decline rapidly increased; and, though he ventured to proceed, as was his usual habit, to the moors in the month of August, he could hardly enjoy the pleasures of a sportsman. He became decidedly worse in the month of October, and was at length obliged to confine himself to bed. After a severe illness of four weeks, he died on the 21st of November, "departing this life," writes William Laidlaw, "as calmly, and, to appearance, with as little pain, as if he had fallen asleep, in his gray plaid, on the side of the moorland rill." The Shepherd had attained his sixty-fifth year.

The funeral of the Bard was numerously attended by the population of the district. Of his literary friends--owing to the remoteness of the locality--Professor Wilson alone attended. He stood uncovered at the grave after the rest of the company had retired, and consecrated, by his tears, the green sod of his friend's last resting-place. With the exception of Burns and Sir Walter Scott, never did Scottish bard receive more elegies or tributes to his memory. He had had some variance with Wordsworth; but this venerable poet, forgetting the past, became the first to lament his departure. The following verses from his pen appeared in the _Athenaeum_ of the 12th of December:--

"When first descending from the moorlands,
I saw the stream of Yarrow glide,
Along a bare and open valley,
The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.

"When last along its banks I wander'd,
Through groves that had begun to shed
Their golden leaves upon the pathway,
My steps the Border Minstrel led.

"The mighty minstrel breathes no longer,
'Mid mouldering ruins low he lies;
And death, upon the braes of Yarrow,
Has closed the Shepherd-poet's eyes.

* * * * *

"No more of old romantic sorrows,
For slaughter'd youth or love-lorn maid,
With sharper grief is Yarrow smitten,
And Ettrick mourns with her their Shepherd dead!"

Within two bow-shots of the place where lately stood the cottage of his birth, the remains of James Hogg are interred in the churchyard of Ettrick. At the grave a plain tombstone to his memory has been erected by his widow. "When the dark clouds of winter," writes Mr Scott Riddell, "pass away from the crest of Ettrick-pen, and the summits of the nearer-lying mountains, which surround the scene of his repose, and the yellow gowan opens its bosom by the banks of the mountain stream, to welcome the lights and shadows of the spring returning over the land, many are the wild daisies which adorn the turf that covers the remains of THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. And a verse of one of the songs of his early days, bright and blissful as they were, is thus strikingly verified, when he says--

'Flow, my Ettrick! it was thee
Into my life that first did drop me;
Thee I 'll sing, and when I dee,
Thou wilt lend a sod to hap me.
Pausing swains will say, and weep,
Here our Shepherd lies asleep.'"

As formerly described, Hogg was, in youth, particularly good-looking and well-formed. A severe illness somewhat changed the form of his features. His countenance[43] presented the peculiarity of a straight cheekbone; his forehead was capacious and elevated, and his eye remarkable for its vivacity. His hair, in advanced life, became dark brown, mixed with gray. He was rather above the middle height, and was well-built; his chest was broad, his shoulders square, and his limbs well-rounded. He disliked foppery, but was always neat in his apparel: on holidays he wore a suit of black. Forty years old ere he began to mix in the circles of polished life, he never attained a knowledge of the world and its ways; in all his transactions he retained the simplicity of the pastoral character. His Autobiography is the most amusing in the language, from the honesty of the narrator; never before did man of letters so minutely reveal the history of his foibles and failings. He was entirely unselfish and thoroughly benevolent; the homeless wanderer was sure of shelter under his roof, and the poor of some provision by the way. Towards his aged parents his filial affection was of the most devoted kind. Hospitable even to a fault, every visitor received his kindly welcome, and his visitors were more numerous than those of any other man of letters in the land.[44] Fond of conviviality, he loved the intercourse of congenial minds; the voice of friendship was always more precious to him than the claims of business. He was somewhat expert in conversation; he talked Scotch on account of long habit, and because it was familiar to him. He was possessed of a good musical ear, and loved to sing the ballads of his youth, with several of his own songs; and the enthusiasm with which he sung amply compensated for the somewhat discordant nature of his voice. A night with the Shepherd was an event to be remembered. He was zealous in the cause of education; and he built a school at Altrive, and partly endowed a schoolmaster, for the benefit of the children of the district. A Jacobite as respected the past, he was in the present a devoted loyalist, and strongly maintained that the stability of the state was bound up in the support of the monarchy; he had shuddered at the atrocities of the French Revolution, and apprehended danger from precipitate reform; his politics were strictly conservative. He was earnest on the subject of religion, and regular in his attendance upon Divine ordinances. When a shepherd, he had been in the habit of conducting worship in the family during the absence or indisposition of his employer, and he was careful in impressing the sacredness of the duty upon his own children. During his London visit, he prepared and printed a small book of prayers and hymns for the use of his family, which he dedicated to them as a New Year's gift. These prayers are eminently devotional, and all his hymns breathe the language of fervency and faith. From the strict rules of morality he may have sometimes deviated, but it would be the worst exercise of uncharitableness to doubt of his repentance.

It is the lot of men of genius to suffer from the envenomed shafts of calumny and detraction. The reputation of James Hogg has thus bled. Much has been said to his prejudice by those who understood not the simple nature of his character, and were incapable of forming an estimate of the principles of his life. He has been broadly accused[45] of doing an injury to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, who was one of his best benefactors; to which it might be a sufficient reply, that he was incapable of perpetrating an ungenerous act. But how stands the fact? Hogg strained his utmost effort to do honour to the dust of his illustrious friend! He published reminiscences of him in a small volume, and in such terms as the following did he pronounce his eulogy:--"He had a clear head as well as a benevolent heart; was a good man, an anxiously kind husband, an indulgent parent, and a sincere, forgiving friend; a just judge, and a punctual correspondent.... Such is the man we have lost, and such a man we shall never see again. He was truly an extraordinary man,--the greatest man in the world."[46] Was ever more panegyrical language used in biography? But Hogg ventured to publish his recollections of his friend, instead of supplying them for the larger biography; perhaps some connexion may be traced between this fact and the indignation of Scott's literary executor! Possessed, withal, of a genial temper, he was sensitive of affront, and keen in his expressions of displeasure; he had his hot outbursts of anger with Wilson and Wordsworth, and even with Scott, on account of supposed slights, but his resentment speedily subsided, and each readily forgave him. He was somewhat vain of his celebrity, but what shepherd had not been vain of such achievements?