Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott Volume IV Part 8

The difficulties of the Ballantynes were by this time well known throughout the commercial circles not only of Edinburgh, but of London; and a report of their actual bankruptcy, with the addition that Scott was engaged as their surety to the extent of 20,000, found its way to Mr. Morritt about the beginning of November. This dear friend wrote to him, in the utmost anxiety, and made liberal offers of a.s.sistance in case the catastrophe might still be averted; but the term of Martinmas, always a critical one in Scotland, had pa.s.sed before this letter reached Edinburgh, and Scott's answer will show symptoms of a clearing horizon. I think also there is one expression in it which could hardly have failed to convey to Mr. Morritt that his friend was involved, more deeply than he had ever acknowledged, in the concerns of the Messrs. Ballantyne.

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

EDINBURGH, 20th November, 1813.

I did not answer your very kind letter, my dear Morritt, until I could put your friendly heart to rest upon the report you have heard, which I could not do entirely until this term of Martinmas was pa.s.sed. I have the pleasure to say that there is no truth whatever in the Ballantynes' reported bankruptcy. They have had severe difficulties for the last four months to make their resources balance the demands upon them, and I, having the price of Rokeby, and other monies in their hands, have had considerable reason for apprehension, and no slight degree of plague and trouble. They have, however, been so well supported, that I have got out of hot water upon their account. They are winding up their bookselling concern with great regularity, and are to abide hereafter by the printing-office, which, with its stock, etc., will revert to them fairly.

I have been able to redeem the offspring of my brain, and they are like to pay me like grateful children. This matter has set me a-thinking about money more seriously than ever I did in my life, and I have begun by insuring my life for 4000, to secure some ready cash to my family should I slip girths suddenly. I think my other property, library, etc., may be worth about 12,000, and I have not much debt.

Upon the whole, I see no prospect of any loss whatever. Although in the course of human events I may be disappointed, there certainly _can_ be none to vex your kind and affectionate heart on my account. I am young, with a large official income, and if I lose anything now, I have gained a great deal in my day. I cannot tell you, and will not attempt to tell you, how much I was affected by your letter--so much, indeed, that for several days I could not make my mind up to express myself on the subject. Thank G.o.d! all real danger was yesterday put over--and I will write, in two or three days, a funny letter, without any of these vile cash matters, of which it may be said there is no living with them nor without them.

Ever yours, most truly,

WALTER SCOTT.

All these annoyances produced no change whatever in Scott's habits of literary industry. During these anxious months of September, October, and November, he kept feeding James Ballantyne's press, from day to day, both with the annotated text of the closing volumes of Swift's works, and with the MS. of his Life of the Dean. He had also proceeded to mature in his own mind the plan of The Lord of the Isles, and executed such a portion of the First Canto as gave him confidence to renew his negotiation with Constable for the sale of the whole, or part of its copyright. It was, moreover, at this period, that, looking into an old cabinet in search of some fis.h.i.+ng-tackle, his eye chanced to light once more on the Ashestiel fragment of Waverley.--He read over those introductory chapters--thought they had been undervalued--and determined to finish the story.

All this while, too, he had been subjected to those interruptions from idle strangers, which from the first to the last imposed so heavy a tax on his celebrity; and he no doubt received such guests with all his usual urbanity of attention. Yet I was not surprised to discover, among his hasty notes to the Ballantynes, several of tenor akin to the following specimens:--

"September 2, 1813.

"My temper is really worn to a hair's breadth. The intruder of yesterday hung on me till twelve to-day. When I had just taken my pen, he was relieved, like a sentry leaving guard, by two other lounging visitors; and their post has now been supplied by some people on real business."

Again:--

"Monday evening.

"Oh James! oh James! Two Irish dames Oppress me very sore; I groaning send one sheet I've penned-- For, hang them! there's no more."

A sc.r.a.p of nearly the same date to his brother Thomas may be introduced, as belonging to the same state of feeling:--

DEAR TOM,--I observe what you say as to Mr. ****; and as you may often be exposed to similar requests, which it would be difficult to parry, you can sign such letters of introduction as relate to persons whom you do not delight to honor short, _T. Scott_; by which abridgment of your name I shall understand to limit my civilities.

It is proper to mention that, in the very agony of these perplexities, the unfortunate Maturin received from him a timely succor of 50, rendered doubly acceptable by the kind and judicious letter of advice in which it was enclosed; and I have before me ample evidence that his benevolence had been extended to other struggling brothers of the trade, even when he must often have had actual difficulty to meet the immediate expenditure of his own family. All this, however, will not surprise the reader.

Nor did his general correspondence suffer much interruption; and, as some relief after so many painful details, I shall close the narrative of this anxious year by a few specimens of his miscellaneous communications:--

TO MISS JOANNA BAILLIE, HAMPSTEAD.

ABBOTSFORD, September 12, 1813.

MY DEAR MISS BAILLIE,--I have been a vile lazy correspondent, having been strolling about the country, and indeed a little way into England, for the greater part of July and August; in short, "aye skipping here and there," like the Tanner of Tamworth's horse. Since I returned, I have had a gracious offer of the laurel on the part of the Prince Regent. You will not wonder that I have declined it, though with every expression of grat.i.tude which such an unexpected compliment demanded. Indeed, it would be high imprudence in one having literary reputation to maintain, to accept of an offer which obliged him to produce a poetical exercise on a given theme twice a year; and besides, as my loyalty to the royal family is very sincere, I would not wish to have it thought mercenary. The public has done its part by me very well, and so has Government: and I thought this little literary provision ought to be bestowed on one who has made literature his sole profession. If the Regent means to make it respectable, he will abolish the foolish custom of the annual odes, which is a drudgery no person of talent could ever willingly encounter--or come clear off from, if he was so rash. And so, peace be with the laurel,

"Profaned by Cibber and contemned by Gray."

I was for a fortnight at Drumlanrig, a grand old chateau, which has descended, by the death of the late Duke of Queensberry, to the Duke of Buccleuch. It is really a most magnificent pile, and when embosomed amid the wide forest scenery, of which I have an infantine recollection, must have been very romantic. But old Q. made wild devastation among the n.o.ble trees, although some fine ones are still left, and a quant.i.ty of young shoots are, in despite of the want of every kind of attention, rus.h.i.+ng up to supply the places of the fathers of the forest from whose stems they are springing. It will now I trust be in better hands, for the reparation of the castle goes hand in hand with the rebuilding of all the cottages, in which an aged race of pensioners of Duke Charles, and his pious wife,--"Kitty, blooming, young and gay,"--have, during the last reign, been pining into rheumatisms and agues, in neglected poverty.

All this is beautiful to witness: the indoor work does not please me so well, though I am aware that, to those who are to inhabit an old castle, it becomes often a matter of necessity to make alterations by which its tone and character are changed for the worse. Thus a n.o.ble gallery, which ran the whole length of the front, is converted into bedrooms--very comfortable, indeed, but not quite so magnificent; and as grim a dungeon as ever knave or honest man was confined in, is in some danger of being humbled into a wine-cellar. It is almost impossible to draw your breath, when you recollect that this, so many feet under-ground, and totally bereft of air and light, was built for the imprisonment of human beings, whether guilty, suspected, or merely unfortunate. Certainly, if our frames are not so hardy, our hearts are softer than those of our forefathers, although probably a few years of domestic war, or feudal oppression, would bring us back to the same case-hardening both in body and sentiment.

I meant to have gone to Rokeby, but was prevented by Mrs. Morritt being unwell, which I very much regret, as I know few people that deserve better health. I am very glad you have known them, and I pray you to keep up the acquaintance in winter. I am glad to see by this day's paper that our friend Terry has made a favorable impression on his first appearance at Covent Garden--he has got a very good engagement there for three years, at twelve guineas a week, which is a handsome income.--This little place comes on as fast as can be reasonably hoped; and the pinasters are all above the ground, but cannot be planted out for twelve months. My kindest compliments--in which Mrs. Scott always joins--attend Miss Agnes, the Doctor, and his family. Ever, my dear friend, yours most faithfully,

WALTER SCOTT.

TO DANIEL TERRY, ESQ., LONDON.

ABBOTSFORD, 20th October, 1813.

DEAR TERRY,--You will easily believe that I was greatly pleased to hear from you. I had already learned from The Courier (what I had antic.i.p.ated too strongly to doubt for one instant) your favorable impression on the London public. I think nothing can be more judicious in the managers than to exercise the various powers you possess, in their various extents. A man of genius is apt to be limited to one single style, and to become perforce a mannerist, merely because the public is not so just to its own amus.e.m.e.nt as to give him an opportunity of throwing himself into different lines; and doubtless the exercise of our talents in one unvaried course, by degrees renders them incapable of any other, as the over-use of any one limb of our body gradually impoverishes the rest. I shall be anxious to hear that you have played _Malvolio_, which is, I think, one of your _coups-de-maitre_, and in which envy itself cannot affect to trace an imitation. That same charge of imitation, by the way, is one of the surest scents upon which dunces are certain to open. Undoubtedly, if the same character is well performed by two individuals, their acting must bear a general resemblance--it could not be well performed by both were it otherwise. But this general resemblance, which arises from both following nature and their author, can as little be termed imitation as the river in Wales can be identified with that of Macedon. Never mind these dunderheads, but go on your own way, and scorn to laugh on the right side of your mouth, to make a difference from some ancient comedian who, in the same part, always laughed on the left. Stick to the public--be uniform in your exertions to study even those characters which have little in them, and to give a grace which you cannot find in the author. Audiences are always grateful for this--or rather--for grat.i.tude is as much out of the question in the theatre, as Bernadotte says to Boney it is amongst sovereigns--or rather, the audience is gratified by receiving pleasure from a part which they had no expectation would afford them any. It is in this view that, had I been of your profession, and possessed talents, I think I should have liked often those parts with which my brethren quarrelled, and studied to give them an effect which their intrinsic merit did not ent.i.tle them to. I have some thoughts of being in town in spring (not resolutions by any means); and it will be an additional motive to witness your success, and to find you as comfortably established as your friends in Castle Street earnestly hope and trust you will be.

The summer--an uncommon summer in beauty and serenity--has glided away from us at Abbotsford, amidst our usual petty cares and petty pleasures. The children's garden is in apple-pie order, our own completely cropped and stocked, and all the trees flouris.h.i.+ng like the green bay of the Psalmist. I have been so busy about our domestic arrangements, that I have not killed six hares this season. Besides, I have got a cargo of old armor, sufficient to excite a suspicion that I intend to mount a squadron of cuira.s.siers. I only want a place for my armory; and, thank G.o.d, I can wait for that, these being no times for building. And this brings me to the loss of poor Stark, with whom more genius has died than is left behind among the collected universality of Scottish architects. O Lord!--but what does it signify?--Earth was born to bear, and man to pay (that is, lords, nabobs, Glasgow traders, and those who have wherewithal)--so wherefore grumble at great castles and cottages, with which the taste of the latter contrives to load the back of Mother Terra?--I have no hobbyhorsical commissions at present, unless if you meet the Voyages of Captain Richard, or Robert Falconer, in one volume--"cow-heel, quoth Sancho"--I mark them for my own. Mrs.

Scott, Sophia, Anne, and the boys, unite in kind remembrances. Ever yours truly,

W. SCOTT.

TO THE RIGHT HON. LORD BYRON, 4 BENNET STREET, ST. JAMES'S, LONDON.

ABBOTSFORD, 6th November, 1813.

MY DEAR LORD,--I was honored with your Lords.h.i.+p's letter of the 27th September,[39] and have sincerely to regret that there is such a prospect of your leaving Britain, without my achieving your personal acquaintance. I heartily wish your Lords.h.i.+p had come down to Scotland this season, for I have never seen a finer, and you might have renewed all your old a.s.sociations with Caledonia, and made such new ones as were likely to suit you. I dare promise you would have liked me well enough--for I have many properties of a Turk--never trouble myself about futurity--am as lazy as the day is long--delight in collecting silver-mounted pistols and ataghans, and go out of my own road for no one--all which I take to be attributes of your good Moslem. Moreover, I am somewhat an admirer of royalty, and in order to maintain this part of my creed, I shall take care never to be connected with a court, but stick to the _ignotum pro mirabili_.

The author of The Queen's Wake will be delighted with your approbation. He is a wonderful creature for his opportunities, which were far inferior to those of the generality of Scottish peasants.

Burns, for instance--(not that their extent of talents is to be compared for an instant)--had an education not much worse than the sons of many gentlemen in Scotland. But poor Hogg literally could neither read nor write till a very late period of his life; and when he first distinguished himself by his poetical talent, could neither spell nor write grammar. When I first knew him, he used to send me his poetry, and was both indignant and horrified when I pointed out to him parallel pa.s.sages in authors whom he had never read, but whom all the world would have sworn he had copied. An evil fate has. .h.i.therto attended him, and baffled every attempt that has been made to place him in a road to independence. But I trust he may be more fortunate in future.

I have not yet seen Southey in the Gazette as Laureate. He is a real poet, such as we read of in former times, with every atom of his soul and every moment of his time dedicated to literary pursuits, in which he differs from almost all those who have divided public attention with him. Your Lords.h.i.+p's habits of society, for example, and my own professional and official avocations, must necessarily connect us much more with our respective cla.s.ses in the usual routine of pleasure or business, than if we had not any other employment than _vacare musis_.

But Southey's ideas are all poetical, and his whole soul dedicated to the pursuit of literature. In this respect, as well as in many others, he is a most striking and interesting character.

I am very much interested in all that concerns your Giaour, which is universally approved of among our mountains. I have heard no objection except by one or two geniuses, who run over poetry as a cat does over a harpsichord, and they affect to complain of obscurity. On the contrary, I hold every real lover of the art is obliged to you for condensing the narrative, by giving us only those striking scenes which you have shown to be so susceptible of poetic ornament, and leaving to imagination the says I's and says he's, and all the minutiae of detail which might be proper in giving evidence before a court of justice. The truth is, I think poetry is most striking when the mirror can be held up to the reader, and the same kept constantly before his eyes; it requires most uncommon powers to support a direct and downright narration; nor can I remember many instances of its being successfully maintained even by our greatest bards.

As to those who have done me the honor to take my rhapsodies for their model, I can only say they have exemplified the ancient adage, "One fool makes many;" nor do I think I have yet had much reason to suppose I have given rise to anything of distinguished merit. The worst is, it draws on me letters and commendatory verses, to which my sad and sober thanks in humble prose are deemed a most unmeet and ungracious reply.

Of this sort of plague your Lords.h.i.+p must ere now have had more than your share, but I think you can hardly have met with so original a request as concluded the letter of a bard I this morning received, who limited his demands to being placed in his due station on Parna.s.sus--_and_ invested with a post in the Edinburgh Custom House.

What an awakening of dry bones seems to be taking place on the Continent! I could as soon have believed in the resurrection of the Romans as in that of the Prussians--yet it seems a real and active renovation of national spirit. It will certainly be strange enough if that tremendous pitcher, which has travelled to so many fountains, should be at length broken on the banks of the Saale; but from the highest to the lowest we are the fools of fortune. Your Lords.h.i.+p will probably recollect where the Oriental tale occurs, of a Sultan who consulted Solomon on the proper inscription for a signet-ring, requiring that the maxim which it conveyed should be at once proper for moderating the presumption of prosperity and tempering the pressure of adversity. The apophthegm supplied by the Jewish sage was, I think, admirably adapted for both purposes, being comprehended in the words, "And this also shall pa.s.s away."

When your Lords.h.i.+p sees Rogers, will you remember me kindly to him? I hope to be in London next spring, and renew my acquaintance with my friends there. It will be an additional motive if I could flatter myself that your Lords.h.i.+p's stay in the country will permit me the pleasure of waiting upon you. I am, with much respect and regard, your Lords.h.i.+p's truly honored and obliged humble servant,

WALTER SCOTT.

I go to Edinburgh next week, _multum gemens_.