Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
Walter Scott to J. B. S. Morritt of Rokeby, 30 April 1814
“Abbotsford, 30th April, 1814.
“‘Joy—joy in London now!’—and in
Edinburgh, moreover, my dear Morritt;
for never did you or I see, and never again shall we see, according to all
human prospects, a consummation so truly glorious, as now bids fair to conclude
this long and eventful war. It is startling to think that, but for the
preternatural presumption and hardness of heart displayed by the arch-enemy of
mankind, we should have had a hollow and ominous truce with him, instead of a
glorious and stable peace with the country over which he tyrannized, and its
lawful ruler. But Providence had its own wise purposes to answer—and such was
the deference of France to the ruling power—so devoutly did they worship the
Devil for possession of his burning throne, that, it may be, nothing short of
his rejection of every fair and advantageous offer of peace could have driven
them to those acts of resistance which remembrance of former convulsions had
rendered so fearful to them. Thank God! it is done at last: and—although I
rather grudge him even the mouthful of air which he may draw in the Isle of
Elba ![]()
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—yet I question whether the moral lesson would have
been completed either by his perishing in battle, or being torn to pieces
(which I should greatly have preferred), like the De
Witts, by an infuriated crowd of conscripts and their parents.
Good God! with what strange feelings must that man retire from the most
unbounded authority ever vested in the hands of one man, to the seclusion of
privacy and restraint. We have never heard of one good action which he did, at
least for which there was not some selfish or political reason; and the train
of slaughter, pestilence, and famine and fire, which his ambition has
occasioned, would have outweighed five hundredfold the private virtues of a
Titus. These are comfortable reflections to carry with
one to privacy. If he writes his own history, as he proposes, we may gain
something; but he must send it here to be printed. Nothing less than a
neck-or-nothing London bookseller, like John
Dunton of yore, will venture to commit to the press his strange
details uncastrated. I doubt that he has stamina to undertake such a labour;
and yet, in youth, as I know from the brothers of Lauriston, who were his
school-companions, Buonaparte’s habits were
distinctly and strongly literary. Spain, the Continental System, and the
invasion of Russia he may record as his three leading blunders—an awful lesson
to sovereigns that morality is not so indifferent to politics as Machiavelians
will assert. Res nolunt diu male
administrari. Why can we not meet to talk over these matters
over a glass of claret; and when shall that be? Not this spring, I fear, for
time wears fast away, and I have remained here nailed among my future oaks,
which I measure daily with a foot-rule. Those which were planted two years ago,
begin to look very gaily, and a venerable plantation of four years old looks as
bobbish as yours at the dairy by Greta side. ![]()
| LETTER TO MORRITT—APRIL, 1814. | 117 |
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Besides, I am arranging this cottage a
little more conveniently, to put off the plague and expense of building another
year; and I assure you, I expect to spare Mrs
Morritt and you a chamber in the wall, with a dressing-room, and
every thing handsome about you. You will not stipulate, of course, for many
square feet. You would be surprised to hear how the Continent is awakening from
its iron sleep. The utmost eagerness seems to prevail about English literature.
I have had several voluntary epistles from different parts of Germany, from men
of letters, who are eager to know what we have been doing, while they were
compelled to play at blindman’s buff with the ci-devant Empereur. The feeling of the French officers,
of whom we have many in our vicinity, is very curious, and yet natural.* Many
of them, companions of Buonaparte’s victories, and
who hitherto have marched with him from conquest to conquest, disbelieve the
change entirely. This is all very stupid to write to you, who are in the centre
of these wonders; but what else can I say, unless I should send you the measure
of the future fathers of the forest? Mrs
Scott is With me heres—the children in Edinburgh. Our kindest
love attends Mrs Morritt. I hope to hear soon that her
health continues to gain ground.
“I have a letter from Southey, in high spirits on the glorious news. What a pity this
last battle† was fought. But I am glad the rascals were beaten once more.
Ever yours,
John Dunton (1659-1732)
English bookseller who published the
Athenian Gazette (1690-96)
and
Life and Errors of John Dunton (1705).
Katherine Morritt [née Stanley] (d. 1815)
The daughter of the Reverend Thomas Stanley, rector of Winwick in Lancashire; in 1803 she
married John Morritt of Rokeby.
Robert Southey (1774-1843)
Poet laureate and man of letters whose contemporary reputation depended upon his prose
works, among them the
Life of Nelson, 2 vols (1813),
History of the Peninsular War, 3 vols (1823-32) and
The Doctor, 7 vols (1834-47).
Jan de Witt (1625-1672)
Dutch republican leader who fought the English in the Dutch Wars; he was slain by a mob
angered at his opposition to William III.
