The Life and Letters of John Gibson Lockhart
Chapter 5: 1817-18
CHAPTER V
EDINBURGH, 1817-1818
“There was a natural demand for libel at this
period.”—Lord Cockburn.—Blackwood’s Magazine.—Account of it in letter to
Haydon (1838).—Lockhart “helps
Blackwood out of a scrape.”—“Row in
Edinburgh.”—Lockhart made the scapegoat.—His
regrets.—His prospects ruined.—“Intolerably grievous
fate.”—Parallel of Theodore Hook.—Responsibility for
Blackwood’s.—Wilson and
Lockhart not paid Editors.—Lockhart not
the assailant of the Lake Poets.—Errors in “Life of
Christopher North.”—The early numbers of the
Magazine.—Lockhart’s articles on Greek
Tragedy.—Blackwood quarrels with his original
Editors.—They take service with Constable.—Their new
Opposition Magazine.—Scott and
Pringle.—Attack on
Coleridge.—Wilson,
Jeffrey, and
Coleridge.—Lockhart on literary Whigs
of Edinburgh.—Attack on the “Cockney
School.”—Keats and Lockhart agree
in their views of Leigh Hunt.—“Vain, egotistical, and
disgusting.”—His “Tale of
Rimini.”—His enmity to Sir Walter Scott.—He
and Keats fancy that Scott is their
assailant.—Persistence of this absurdity.—“The Chaldee” Manuscript.—Hogg claims the
authorship.—Burlesque reply.—Lockhart’s own
statement.—Analysis of “The
Chaldee.”—“No end of public emotion.”
The often told story of the early years of Blackwood’s Magazine has next to
be repeated. It was an ill day for Lockhart when he
first put his pen at the service of a journal, which for now the term of a long human life,
has been eminently reputable and admirable. Frequently as the matter has been
| “BLACKWOOD’S MAGAZINE” | 127 |
discussed, there are
points which have never before been clearly stated, while there are others that still
remain obscure. Perhaps the best introduction to the subject may be found in a letter
written by Lockhart himself, in later days, to Haydon the painter. Haydon had been
at first a victim of the Blackwood
satirists, merely because he was an associate of their enemy, Leigh
Hunt. But, as we shall see, this feud with Haydon was
soon settled, and he confesses that his foes treated him with hospitality and good
fellowship: aiding him to the best of their power in later life.
Nevertheless, on the appearance of Lockhart’s “Life of
Scott,” Haydon wrote him a long
epistle, complaining of his early cruelties. On Haydon’s own
showing this conduct was curiously inconsistent, but his unfortunate temperament, and
melancholy end, excuse much in the painter.
Lockhart replied (July 11, 1838):—“I
thank you for your two letters, though the second has given me a good deal of pain.
Your approbation of the ‘Life of
Scott’ is valuable, and might console me for all the abuse it has
called forth both on him and me. . . .
(What follows will find more appropriate place later.)
“But I cannot be indifferent to your severe though generous
reflections about my early literary escapades. You are willing to make allowances, but
allow me to say, you have not understood the
128 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
facts of the case.
They were bad enough, but not so bad as you make them out. In the first place, I was a
raw boy, who had never had the least connection either with politics or controversies
of any kind, when, arriving in Edinburgh1 in October 1817, I
found my friend John Wilson (ten years my
senior) busied in helping Blackwood out of a
scrape he had got into with some editors of his Magazine, and on
Wilson’s asking me to try my hand at some squibberies in
his aid, I sat down to do so with as little malice as if the assigned subject had been
the Court of Pekin.2 But the row in Edinburgh, the lordly Whigs
having considered persiflage as their own fee-simple, was really
so extravagant that when I think of it now, the whole story seems wildly incredible.
Wilson and I were singled out to bear the whole burden of sin,
though there were abundance of other criminals in the concern, and, by-and-by,
Wilson passing for being a very eccentric fellow, and I for a
cool one, even he was allowed to get off comparatively scot-free, while I, by far the
youngest and least experienced of the set, and who alone had no personal grudges
against any of Blackwood’s victims,
remained under such an accumulation of wrath and contumely, as would have crushed me
utterly, unless for the buoyancy of 1 He had just returned from Germany. 2 A letter of Mr.
Blackwood’s, to Lockhart in Germany, of August 28, 1817, gives him information
as to the opposition of Constable, and
the determination to begin a new series of the Magazine. Mr.
Blackwood says that Wilson has promised several articles. |
extreme youth.1 I now think with deep sadness of the pain my jibes and jokes inflicted on
better men than myself, and I can say that I have omitted in my mature years no
opportunity of trying to make reparation where I really had been
the offender. But I was not the doer of half the deeds even you seem to set down to my
account, nor can I, in the face of much evidence printed and unprinted, believe that,
after all, our Ebony (as we used to call the man and his book) had
half so much to answer for as the more regular artillery which the old Quarterly played
incessantly, in these days, on the same parties.2 . . .
“As to yourself, I really don’t remember that I ever wrote
a line against you in my life. I don’t swear that I never mentioned your name in
some ludicrous juxtaposition, but even of this I have not the remotest consciousness. I
knew nothing then either of London or artists living out of Scotland, and I believe
when you came down with the picture of the ‘Entry into
Jerusalem,’ you were received even better by the ‘Tory
wags’ than by
1 After Lockhart’s death, Miss
Martineau took her favourite opportunity of “a newly made
grave.” “Lockhart’s satire had, then
and always,” she said, “a quality of malice in it, where
Wilson’s had only
fun.” It is “only fun” to deride the personal
manners, and the poetry, of your benefactor Scott, and your friend Wordsworth—the guest who has just left your door.
“Noctes
Ambrosianæ,” September 1825, and vol. iii., 89-95, 134-135. I
select acknowledged examples of Wilson’s innocuous
raillery. 2 The omission contains merely an unexplained reference
to a distinguished person, which might be misconstrued. |
130 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
your fellow-sufferers of the Whig brigade.1 I believe the only individuals whom Blackwood ever really and essentially injured
were myself and Wilson. Our feelings and
happiness were disturbed and shattered in consequence of that connection. I was
punished cruelly and irremediably in my worldly fortunes, for the outcry cut off all
prospects of professional advancement from me. I soon saw that the Tory Ministers and
law officers never would give me anything in that way. . . . Thus I lost an honourable
profession, and had, after a few years of withering hopes, to make up my mind for
embracing the precarious, and, in my opinion, intolerably grievous fate of the
dependent on literature. It is true that I now regard this too with equanimity, but
that is only because I have undergone so many disappointments of every kind, crowned by
an irreparable bereavement, that I really have lost the power of feeling acutely on any
subject connected with my own worldly position. . . .”2
It was thus that Lockhart, under a
blow which struck at his heart, the loss of his beloved wife, reviewed his early days of
raillery. His pleas of youth, of association with an elder friend who should have set him a
different example, and of freedom from personal malice, may be accepted even
1 Haydon’s
“Autobiography”
leaves no doubt on this point. 2 The rest of the letter is a vigorous remonstrance with
Haydon on his own fortunes and the
causes of them. |
by severe judges. What he wrote about
Theodore Hook, might be said about himself.
“It is fair to recollect, too, that in the case of Theodore
Hook, when he was making his paper so formidably famous, there really could not have been any true
personal malignity at work. He was fresh from a colonial life, in which few men’s
passions are ever much disturbed by sympathy with the ups and downs of the great
parties at home. He had sustained no sort of injury as yet at the hands of either Whigs
or Radicals. He knew little, and could have cared nothing, about those who became the
objects of his satire. Exquisitely cruel as it often seemed, it was with him a mere skiomachy. Certain men and women were stuck up as types of
certain prejudices or delusions; and he set to knocking them down with no more feeling
about them, as individual human creatures, than if they had been nine-pins. In all this
there was a culpable recklessness—a sad want of thought; but, at the same time,
want of reflection is not exactly to be confounded with deliberation of
malice.”1
It is conspicuously apparent, from Lockhart’s letters, that he knew nothing of Leigh Hunt, nothing of Hazlitt, for
example, and nothing of “Shelly,” as he
then writes the name. To him they were, vaguely, the enemy, the other side, assailants of
his party, and, as far as Hazlitt and Hunt were
concerned, “Cockneys.” He therefore attacked them with a
132 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
light heart, and with a bitterness which was merely part of the
performance. But his very coolness, clearness of head, and logic made his attacks terrible,
while his personalities, if not without example, went beyond even the Tory standard of the
time. Doubtless the storm which he at once awoke drove him further than he had dreamed of
going, and the whole results were deplorable. Yet literature was surely, more than law, his
real province, though his pride appears to have resented his official connection with
literature, as an editor.
To return to Blackwood. In a matter where the chief sinners, both publicly and
privately, in later years, “took blame to themselves,” an apologia cannot now be offered. This is not a case of which we may say,
tout comprendre c’est tout
pardonner, for all the motives could not be understood, as Lockhart frankly admitted, even immediately after the
commission of one of the offences. At best we can put ourselves in the position of the
culprits, try to see things and men as they must have seen them; make allowance for
prejudice, for the manners of the age, for the vivacities of youth. When all this is done
there abides an amount of wrong which is not to be palliated, not to be smiled away.
As to the weight of responsibility it was partly editorial, partly, in
each case, a question of authorship. About the editorial department there was division of
public opinion from the first. Mr. Blackwood, the
publisher, and, to all appearance,
| EDITORSHIP OF “BLACKWOOD’S” | 133 |
the director of the Magazine,
averred (according to Scott, as cited by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe in a letter to Constable) that an article, the now innocuous “Chaldee Manuscript,” had been
inserted “against his will.”1
Yet the periodical, if it began as it went on, was under the direction of
Mr. Blackwood himself. “Ma Maga,” he used to call it, according to Lockhart.2 Again, in an unpublished note to
Maginn, at the time of Byron’s death, Lockhart says that
“Blackwood will not have it,” that is, an
attack on Byron, proposed by the Irish writer, which
Lockhart deprecates himself. Yet Wilson was, from the beginning, supposed by the curious to be actual
editor. Thus Scott, in a letter to Sharpe of September 1817, says,
“Wilson will be a spirited charioteer, or I mistake
him, and take the corner with four starved authors in hand, in great style.”
Assuredly neither Lockhart nor Wilson would have
publicly disassociated himself from any responsibility and fixed it upon his friend alone.
For a certain brief period, in 1818, it appears, from the “Memoir of John Murray,” and from
Lockhart’s own letters, that he and
Wilson were actually in command of the Magazine,
though, (according to Lockhart) even then with Mr. Blackwood in power behind them. The arrangement proved
unworkable for many reasons: among others, I believe,
134 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
because Mr. Blackwood was not content to be a
mere constitutional monarch. The money which Mr.
Murray had advanced, as partner in the venture, was returned to him.1 Both Lockhart and Wilson
denied that they had ever received money for conducting the periodical.
Wilson’s denial was written in 1828, after the troublous
times were over, to his personal friend the Rev. Mr. Fleming of
Rayrig. “Of Blackwood’s Magazine I am not the editor. . . . I am one of
the chief writers, perhaps the chief, and have all along been so, but
never received one shilling front the proprietor, except for my own
compositions. . . . To you I make the avowal, which is to the letter correct,
of Christopher North’s ideal character.”2
It thus appears that the intended editorial arrangement, like the
connection with Mr. Murray, was rescinded, or
rather, never “implemented,” in the Scots Law phrase. A letter of 1818 from
Sir Walter to Will
Laidlaw seems to confirm this theory.3 As to
authorship of articles, on one point I am constrained, in fairness to Lockhart, to differ from an earlier writer. Mrs. Gordon, in her pleasing “Life of Christopher North,” her father, writes,
like a good daughter, “I cannot say that I have been able to trace to his hand any
instance of unmanly attack, or
one shade of real malignity. There
did appear in the Magazine wanton and unjustifiable strictures on persons, such as
Wordsworth and Coleridge, with whom he was on terms of friendship, and for whom, in
its own pages and elsewhere, he professed, as he sincerely felt, the highest esteem.
But when it is well understood that he was never in any sense the editor, . . . it will
appear that he had simply the alternative of ceasing to contribute further to the
Magazine, or of continuing to do so under the disadvantage of seeming to approve what
he really condemned.1 That he adopted the latter course is, I
think, no stigma on his character; and, in after days, when his influence in the
Magazine had become paramount, he made noble amends for its sins.”
All this is demonstrably erroneous reasoning: the facts, too, are
erroneous. Mrs. Gordon had access, she says, to the
arcana imperii of the house of
Blackwood, only after the date 1826. To the authorship of early
articles, I myself have, what Mrs. Gordon had not, the clues of
statements in Lockhart’s hitherto unpublished
letters. There is also internal evidence of style, no two styles being (as a rule) so
easily distinguishable as the “swashing blow” of Wilson, and the rapier thrust of Lockhart. Again, in
1817-1819, Lockhart knew not one
1 “Thus it is possible his desire to review Coleridge favourably in the Edinburgh may have arisen from
a wish to do justice to that great man, the opportunity for which was denied in the
pages of Blackwood” (Mrs.
Gordon’s note.) |
136 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
of the Lake School; Wilson knew
them all, and all the ins and outs of their little domestic politics and quarrels.
Lockhart’s deep and earnest admiration of Wordsworth’s poems has already been apparent in his
letters, nor was Wilson, as a rule, a less ardent advocate. Which of
the twain, then, is to blame for personal attacks on men who were the intimates of the
elder partner, while they were personally strangers to the junior? On December 5, 1819,
Lockhart, in a letter to Christie, disclaims any personal knowledge of any single victim of the
Magazine. “With Wilson the case is most different. With Coleridge, Wordsworth, Jeffrey, &c, &c., in short with all that have
been attacked, he has lived, at some time or other, on terms of
intimacy, and, therefore, they have all in turn complained grievously of
him.” Whoever attacked Coleridge and
Wordsworth, Lockhart was not the man, and one
assault on Wordsworth is included in
Wilson’s acknowledged works: in “Noctes Ambrosianæ September 1825.
Lockhart, in the letter cited, refers to an
extraordinary “bam” attempted by Wilson
on Wordsworth, and much talked of in London, as
having occurred during his own absence in Germany. Wilson’s conduct, in fact, is attributable to his amazing lack of
consistency, his want of any “tie-beam,” as Mr.
Carlyle says. Meanwhile, about Wilson’s friends,
“the Lakers,” Lockhart, at twenty-three, knew nothing
personally, except what Wilson told him.
It is needless to say more. The weight of responsibility for personal
unfairness to the Lakers cannot be transferred to the shoulders of Lockhart. That excuse does Wilson injustice. A man of thirty-two would not permit “a green
unknowing youth” of twenty-three to revile his personal friends in a magazine
where his influence was, at least, very considerable. As Mr.
Gleig wrote in a review of Mrs. Gordon’s book:
“Is it conceivable that a man at the mature age of thirty-two, already known
to fame as a poet and a critic, would give himself up, bound hand and foot, to the
guidance of a boy?”1 It is not conceivable, and the
facts were the reverse. No just critic can lay all the fault on the shoulders of the
youngest person concerned, who, moreover, as a matter of fact, was innocent of the deed.
Yet, young as he was, even in these days Lockhart gave proofs, as will
be shown, of such a clear judgment, and sound unbiassed taste, as are not displayed by any
of his comrades. His excesses are like those of a sober man who, finding himself in riotous
company, conforms himself to their humour. One can imagine that, within himself, he
cherished a proud disdain of the frays in which he figured, and of the work to which he
lent his hand. I do not know quo numine
laeso Mrs. Gordon penned her remarks on her
father’s constant friend. In matters where both were culpable in their degree, be it
far from me to exculpate Lockhart at the expense of his
138 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
comrade, except where his own written statements cannot in fairness be
overlooked. Mr. Gleig says, as regards
Lockhart’s letters, published by Mrs.
Gordon: “She must need preface them with words of her
own,” which follow:
“They” (Lockhart’s letters) “are as characteristic of his satirical
powers as any of those off-hand caricatures that shred his best friends to pieces,
leaving the most poetical of them as bereft of that beautifying property as if they had
been born utterly without it.” Pictorial caricature, even in the pages of
Mr. Punch or elsewhere, is very seldom resented
even by the most thin-skinned of mortals, and Mrs.
Gordon herself publishes a caricature of her father.
Lockhart, who certainly had whatever “beautifying
property” a “poetical” aspect may entail, frequently “shred”
himself “to pieces,” with his pencil. Mrs.
Gordon’s “Life of
Christopher North” has been widely read, as it deserved to be, and has
been long in the field—in fact, since 1862. This remonstrance is therefore necessary.
For too many years Lockhart has been made the solitary scapegoat of
Wilson, and of Blackwood in general.
Lockhart, though he began so young, was, I think, a
critic eminently well equipped with learning, and, where he touched on the classics of any
language, eminently well endowed with delicacy and breadth of appreciation. But where party
prejudice came in, and contemporaries were his themes, he was no better, often, than other
literary judges of his
time. Lest the
reader, inexpert in the fugitive productions of that day, should think
Lockhart a prodigy of dark critical malevolence, I would ask his
attention for the notice of
Coleridge’s “Christabel” and “Kubla Khan,” which appeared, a year before, in the
Edinburgh Review
(September 1816). Coleridge was, of course, a Tory, as Leigh Hunt and Keats
were Liberals. He was also a man hardly treated by fortune, and thwarted by much that was
now, “humanly speaking,” beyond control in his own constitution and character.
Moreover, he was very poor, and had sold his fragment, “Christabel,” to Mr. Murray for a
small sum, which two editions probably did not repay to the publisher. His relations with
Jeffrey, the Editor of the Edinburgh Review, I shall take on
Jeffrey’s own, not on Coleridge’s
larger estimate. In 1810 they had met at Southey’s, and, after a pleasant hour or two of talk, had passed the
next day “in the fields,” Coleridge dining with
Jeffrey at his inn. Jeffrey, who did not care
for metaphysics, “exhorted him rather to give us more poetry.”
“We spoke, too, of ‘Christabel,’ and I
advised him to publish it,” knowing nothing of it but four or five lines
quoted by Scott, who “spoke favourably of
it,” and said that to “Christabel”
“he was indebted for the metrical method of his ‘Lay of the Last Minstrel.’”1
“Christabel,” with “Kubla
Khan,” and “The
140 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
Pains of Sleep,” appeared from
Mr. Murray’s house in 1816, and was
reviewed (by Hazlitt, according to Coleridge), under Jeffrey’s editorship, in the September number of the Edinburgh, 1816.
This odious critique is forgotten, perhaps because nobody could say that
it “killed” Coleridge. It only killed
his hopes of profit and fame (he being poor, ill, and in sad estate) from the most original
compositions in the range of English literature. There is no critical vice which his Whig
critic does not exhibit. With the blind eye, the deaf ear, the insensible heart, are allied
gross and mean personal impudence, frequent imputations of insanity, and the wonted
political rancour. An advertisement of the book mentioned that Byron had praised “Christabel” as “a wild and singularly original and beautiful
poem.” Jeffrey knew that Scott was of the same mind, but the opinions of poets on
poetry were nothing to him and his reviewer. “It seems,” says his man,
“nowadays to be the practice of that once irritable race to laud each other
without bounds; and one can hardly avoid suspecting, that what is thus lavishly
advanced may be laid out with a view to being repaid with interest.” This is
an elegant insinuation against Byron and Scott!
“Much of the art of the wild writers consists in sudden
transitions, opening eagerly upon some subject, and then flying from it immediately.
This indeed is known to the medical men, who not unfrequently have the care of them, as
an unerring
| THE “EDINBURGH” ON “CHRISTABEL” | 141 |
symptom.”
Under Gillman’s care, Coleridge may later have reflected on this graceful
innuendo. The poem is then burlesqued in a prose summary, and the passage, “But vainly thou warrest,” |
is said to “have been manufactured by shaking words together at
random.” Coleridge’s remarks on his
own metre are “a miserable piece of coxcombry and shuffling.”
Coleridge “was in bad health when he wrote ‘Kubla Khan’—the particular
disease is not given, but the careful reader will form his own conjectures.”
“Persons in this poet’s unhappy condition generally feel the want of
sleep as the worst of their evils.” The whole work is “one of the
most notable pieces of impertinence of which the press has lately been guilty, . . . .
utterly destitute of value . . . . displays not one ray of genius . . . . has not one
couplet which could be reckoned poetry were it found in the corner of a
newspaper.” The work is not to be tolerated, “though a brother poet
chooses to laud it from courtesy or interest.” Then comes the political
spleen. “And are such panegyrics,” as Byron’s, “to be echoed by the mean tools of a political
faction, because they relate to one whose daily prose is understood to be dedicated to
the support of all that courtiers think should be supported?”
All this Jeffrey, as Editor,
published, in mature life, in a well-established critical organ, about the
142 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
man of genius who had eaten his salt, and whom he had urged to print
the very poem thus, and in this disgraceful manner denounced. Yet nobody throws a stone at
Jeffrey. Nobody shakes the respectable head over “that
wicked review of poor Coleridge,” that dastardly censure of his
chief treasure, his most accomplished and unequalled work.
I have introduced this digression to show the style of reviewing which
was current and admired, in the most celebrated critical organ of the time, when Lockhart, almost as a boy, began to review. This was the
model set him by the Whig Aristarchus, “the
first of British critics.” And, if Jeffrey, mature, famous, omnipotent, could put his seal on the unspeakable
meanness and stupidity, personal insolence, sordid imputations, and political clap-trap of
the review of “Christabel,” I ask that some
lenience may be shown to political partisanship, personalities, bad taste, as displayed by
a raw young Tory of twenty-three, in his remarks on poems, which no one can regard as
approaching in excellence to Coleridge’s masterpiece; poems
written by persons whose salt he had never eaten, whose faces he had never seen, whom he
judged only by hostile rumour, or on the evidence of their own undeniable affectations.
To return from this digression:—
The Edinburgh Monthly
Magazine (not yet nominally Blackwood’s) commenced in April 1817. The Editors
were Mr. Thomas Pringle and Mr.
| “THE EDINBURGH MAGAZINE” | 143 |
Cleghorn, an authority on Farming. The prospectus
announced the serial as “a Repository of whatever may be most interesting to
general readers.” Antiquarianism was to be made a strong point: the articles
in other magazines were to be criticised: “The Register” of public events,
foreign and domestic, was almost to supersede the “Annual Registers,” in one of
which, the Edinburgh Annual
Register, Scott did much work.
Nothing could be more blameless and pacific: the periodical, in brief, was to be an
improvement on the old Scots
Magazine, then in decay. Whether or not Lockhart was the author of the essays on Greek Tragedy, which began in the
first number, his biographer has no documentary means of ascertaining. They are attributed
to Lockhart by Mr. Gleig, in
his Quarterly
Review article, and they have none of Wilson’s characteristic diction. They bear the signature
“Zeta,” later attached to the essays on the Cockney
School, but such signatures were used in the early Blackwoods for the purpose of perplexing.1 The
translations from the “Prometheus
Bound” are certainly worthy of Lockhart, and do not
justify the writer’s own remark, that “the inspiration of poetry vanishes at
the touch of translation.” An example may be offered. Prometheus is describing the state of mankind before he came,
the hero of the introduction of the Arts:
As a matter of fact, at least two writers used the signature
“Zeta.”
|
144 |
LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
|
“Eyes had they, but they saw not; they had ears,
But heard not; like the shadows of a dream,
For ages did they flit upon the earth,
Rising and vanishing, and left no trace
Of wisdom, or of forethought. Their abodes
Were not of wood or stone, nor did the sun
Warm them, for then they dwelt in lightless caves.
The season’s change they knew not, when the spring
Should shed its roses, or the summer pour
Its golden fruits, or icy winter breathe
In barrenness and blackness on the year.
|
To heaven I raised their eyes, and bade them mark
The time the constellations rose and set,
By which their labours they might regulate.
I taught them numbers, letters were my gift,
By which the poet’s genius might preserve
The memory of glorious events.
. . . . .
. . . .
I was man’s saviour, but have now no power
From these degrading bonds myself to save.”
|
In the whole attitude of Prometheus
the critic finds “the love of independence and the hatred of tyranny, and the
unquenchable daring of a noble mind, that rendered the play the delight of the
Athenians. It was the bright reflection of their own souls, and the fair image returned
to them again with all the joy of self-exaltation. This was the halo that shone from
heaven, and shed over the tragedy a lustre by which it was sanctioned in the eye of
freedom.”
Shelley would not have thought otherwise, and in
these passages we probably discern the true self
of Lockhart, at ease
in the native air of his genius, as in the cold glade of frosty Caucasus.
Thus the Magazine went its way, certainly instructive to the antiquarian,
for it contained original documents, and was aided by Dr.
M’Crie, author of “Knox’s Life,” by Wilson, and
by Sir David Brewster. But in the sixth number
(Sept. 1817) appeared the announcement: “This work is now discontinued.”
“The bookseller and Pringle
quarrelled,” says Lockhart briefly,
and Mrs. Gordon tells us, as does the author of “Hypocrisy Unveiled,” that the two editors
resented Blackwood’s interference. Sharpe reports to Scott
the same story in August 1817. As this was the ground of quarrel, it is unlikely that
Mr. Blackwood in the new series (Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine,
begun in October 1817) would allow himself to be interfered with by
Wilson or any one else. Meanwhile, Mr.
Pringle and Mr. Cleghorn betook
themselves to Mr. Constable, “offering their
services as editors of a new series of the Scots Magazine, to appear under the title of The Edinburgh
Magazine.”1 Blackwood remodelled his own serial, and with the
October number began the war of political and personal scurrilities, at least on the side
of “Ebony.” Mr. Pringle does not
seem to have been very successful under the banner of Constable, and,
as usual, we find Scott trying to help “a (literally)
146 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
lame dog over a stile.” On September 8, 1819, Mr. Croker writes to Mr.
Goulburn, enclosing “a very dull and almost illegible piece of
Walter Scott’s composition.” “One
Pringle, a Scotch Tory, born lame . . . sets up a magazine,
quarrels with his publisher, is turned off, abused, and ridiculed. Sets up a new
magazine in opposition to the former . . . the new publisher
(Constable) as bad as the old, another dismissal . . . applies
to Walter Scott . . . Walter Scott . .
.” as usual does all that man can do for poor Mr. Pringle,
who goes to the Cape.1
The very first number of the new series contained three articles which
illustrate at once the motiveless waywardness, the personal violence, and the boisterous
humour which were to mark the periodical for years. These articles were the attack on
Coleridge, the assault on Leigh Hunt, and the “Chaldee Manuscript.” To consider them, and their
sequels and consequences, is practically to criticise the early history of Blackwood. In October 1817
we find Jeffrey trying to enlist Wilson under the Blue and Yellow of the Edinburgh Review. “It would
appear,” says Mrs. Gordon, “that he
(Wilson) had offered to review Coleridge in a friendly manner,” for
Wilson was of lacustrine habits, and, at Elleray, had known the
Lake poets, and all the minute politics of their settlements.
Jeffrey (October 17, 1817) evaded the review of
S. T. C., preferring an article on Byron. These facts
1 I find an interesting letter of thanks from Mr. Pringle. |
make it all the more extraordinary and
unintelligible, that the October number of Blackwood opened with a most violent personal attack on Coleridge. “This
lampoon,” says Lockhart in
“Peter’s Letters,”
1819, was “a total departure from the principles of the Magazine . . . the only
one of the various sins of this Magazine for which I am at a loss to discover, not an
apology, but a motive.” He then praises Coleridge with
enthusiasm and discrimination, ending (as to the article), “I profess myself
unable to solve the mystery of the motive. The result is bad, and, in truth, very
pitiable.”
Possibly the motive is to be found in the end of the article. Maturin had written a tragedy, which Scott, in a letter to Terry, calls (after certain censures), “grand and powerful, the
language most animated and poetical, and the characters sketched with a masterly
enthusiasm.” This play was “Bertram.” Now Coleridge, in a critique (re-published in his “Biographia Literaria”), had described
“Bertram” as “this superfetation of
blasphemy upon nonsense, this felo de se and
thief captain, this loathsome and leprous confluence of robbery, adultery, murder, and
cowardly assassination, whose best deed is the having saved his betters from the
degradation of hanging him, by turning Jack
Ketch to himself.” “Bertram” had superseded Coleridge’s “Zapolya,” at Covent Garden.
It was thus that men like Coleridge wrote in the brave days of old! The assailant of
Coleridge, in
148 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
Blackwood, contrasts his
conduct with that of Scott, Byron, and Henry Mackenzie, who had
all praised and encouraged the unfortunate Maturin.
“Let me entreat you,” says Scott to
Maturin (Feb. 26, 1818), “to view
Coleridge’s violence as a thing to be contemned, not
retaliated—the opinion of a British public may surely be set in honest opposition
to that of one disappointed and wayward man. You should also consider, en bon Chrétien, that
Coleridge has had some room to be spited at the
world.”1
This attack on Coleridge in Blackwood is a fair
example, not only of the violence, but of the incalculable waywardness of the Magazine.
Wilson, just before the onslaught appeared, was
anxious, as we saw, to praise Coleridge; Lockhart, in a very short space of time, is found applauding the author of
“Christabel,” and,
in later life, liked and admired him greatly. Coleridge was no Whig,
no Edinburgh reviewer.
Yet he was set upon and mauled, apparently in revenge for Maturin, who was “no kith or kin” to the Edinburgh
Tories. The proceeding, whoever the author may have been, was characteristic.2 The vagaries of the Magazine were indeed inexplicable.
Coleridge was presently taken into favour; Haydon was insulted till he was known; contributors
themselves were as likely as any one else to be attacked. The chief writers, as
1 The real motive for the attack on Coleridge was too vague to be traced, and too
childish to be revealed here. 2 The article was not by Lockhart; he names the author in a letter to
Christie. |
Haydon reports a saying of Scott’s, were “like bears in a china shop.” As
Blackwood could certainly assert himself, while
Wilson was a man of mature years, with an ambition to instruct
youth from a Chair of Moral Philosophy, the recklessness of their periodical is even more
astonishing than its violence.
The chief enemies, while friends were insecure, were of course the Whigs,
the Edinburgh Review,
the “Cockneys,” and the opposition in the persons of Constable, Cleghorn, and Pringle. In “Peter’s Letters,” written while
the Magazine was in the flush of its unamiable youth, Lockhart speaks of the Edinburgh
Review as offering “a diet of levity and sarcastic
indifference,” as discredited in the perpetual croakings of prophecy, with
which it certainly laboured to chill the heart of England during the struggle with
Napoleon; and as tedious and odious by virtue of
its coldness in criticism. “It never praised even the highest efforts of
contemporary genius in the spirit of true and genuine earnestness. . . . They never
spoke out of the fulness of the heart, in praising any of our great living poets. . . .
Looking back now after the lapse of several years, to their accounts of many of these
poems (such as Mr. Scott’s, for example) . . .
it is quite wonderful to find in what a light and trivial vein the first notices of
them had been presented to the public by the Edinburgh Review.” Wonderful it is to read Jeffrey on Wordsworth,
150 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
Jeffrey on “Marmion,” and to remember that he (as he seems in these articles at
least) was taken for Sir Oracle. A generous young man might well resent
Jeffrey’s carping; his patronising manner when he praises;
his cheery contented inaccessibility to what is noble, and to what is nobly spirited in
verse. In “Peter’s Letters”
Lockhart adds to the sins of the Edinburgh Review, “its occasional religious
mockeries.” On this matter, unluckily, there is more to be said later. The
Edinburgh Review, and the Whigs in
general, were fair game, if the game was fairly played. How unfairly played it was will
presently be apparent.
The excesses, to put it mildly, of the new Magazine began with the lampoon on Coleridge in the first
number. They were followed, in the same number, by the opening attack on “The Cockney School of Poetry.” The
head of the Cockney School was Leigh Hunt, then obnoxious
to Tories as Editor of the Radical Examiner, the libeller of the Regent, the jaunty babbler about himself, his domesticities, and the young
men around him, Keats, Cornelius Webb, Hazlitt, Haydon, and many others. That they should praise
Hunt, that Hunt should praise them, that
Keats should furnish Hunt with an ivy crown,
that they should write and publish sonnets to each other, was not odd in members of a
literary “circle.” But to persons at a distance, the spectacle of such
endearments has always been irri-
tating. A
genius like Keats’s could not long endure the atmosphere of a
coterie. As early as May 10, 1817, before ever Blackwood was, we find
Keats complaining to Haydon of
Hunt’s “self-illusions, they are very
lamentable.” “There is no greater sin than to flatter oneself into
the idea of being a great poet.”1 Hunt has spoiled Hampstead,
Keats says, by identifying it with himself.
“Hunt keeps on in his old way; I am completely tired
of it all. He has lately published a Pocket-Book, called the ‘Literary Pocket-Book,’ full of the most sickening
stuff you can imagine.”2 . . . “In reality
he is vain, egotistical, and disgusting in taste and morals. He understands many a
beautiful thing; but then, instead of giving other minds credit for the same degree of
perception as he himself possesses, he begins an explanation in such a curious 1 “Letters of John Keats,” London,
1895, p. 18. 2 This Pocket-Book was rather kindly received by Blackwood, December 1819,
after the attack on Keats. The Pocket-Book contained two sonnets by
Keats, signed—I.: “The Human Seasons,” and “Ailsa Rock.”
“As we are anxious to bring this young writer into notice, we
quote his sonnets.” For the first, “we thank
Mr. Keats.” The sonnet on Ailsa Craig is
“portentous folly.” It is, indeed, an exquisitely bad
sonnet— “Thou answerest not, for thou art dead asleep; Thy life is but two dead eternities,— The last in air, the former in the deep; First with the whales, last with the eagle skies— Drowned wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep, Another cannot wake thy giant size.” |
“Do not let John
Keats think we dislike him, he is a young man of some
poetry:” heavy banter about apothecaries follows. |
152 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
manner that our taste and self-love is offended continually.
Hunt does one harm by making fine things petty, and beautiful
things hateful.”1
Makes beautiful things hateful! Lockhart
says, “Perhaps no writer, by half so feeble, ever succeeded in turning so many
beautiful things into objects of aversion.”2 This
extraordinary verbal coincidence between the testimony of a friend and a foe cannot be
merely fortuitous. Leigh Hunt (at that time) pawed over and vulgarised
the victims of his admiration: this, with his vanity, his egotistic babble, accounts for
the spleen of Lockhart, though it does not excuse his ferocities.
Keats’s remarks, though they abet those of Blackwood, are also splenetic, and doubtless
exaggerated; he was later reconciled to Hunt. But if a friend thought
he had cause to speak thus, we need not wonder at the scorn which Hunt
provoked in the hostile conductors of Blackwood. Hunt is there written down vulgar,
ignorant (and his education was really most incomplete); finally, as
Keats says, Hunt is “disgusting in
taste and morals.” His religion is “a poor tame dilution of the
blasphemies of the Encyclopædia.” His dress is ridiculed;
“his muse talks indelicately like a tea-sipping milliner girl.” His
“Tale of Rimini” is full of
Cockney vulgarisms, an undeniably true
remark. When Paolo and Francesca kiss, they are
“all of a tremble”!
The criticism is not so strong as Coleridge’s censures on “Bertram,” but it is more personal. This kind of
thing went on, and was continued in a letter
to Leigh Hunt, by Zeta, in the January
number of 1818. Zeta, withholding his name for the present (the Examiner had called him a liar, and so forth),
declares that he attacks the poet, not the man, as immoral. It was of the man, however, that Keats spoke. The “Tale of
Rimini” is “a smiling apology for a crime at once horrible in its
effects, and easy in its perpetration,” which can hardly be denied, if we are
to be moral.
Leigh Hunt appears to have imagined a wonderful cause for
all this animosity, which, perhaps, has been sufficiently explained on general grounds. In
1810 he had edited an abortive quarterly magazine, The Reflector. In this he imitated
Suckling’s “Session of Poets,” by a piece called
“The Feast of Poets”: and
hence, he says, came “to the Tory critics of Scotland the first cause of
offence.” Hunt had “taken a dislike to
Walter Scott” for a singular reason.
Charles II. was reported to have sent Lord Mulgrave to Tangiers in a leaky ship, along with a
son of his own. In Scott’s “Life of Dryden,” he characterised this not very
probable act of the good-natured king as “ungenerous.” Hence
Leigh Hunt’s noble wrath. To avenge Lord
Mulgrave, who reached Tangiers in perfect safety, “the future
154 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
great novelist was introduced to Apollo in ‘The Feast of the
Poets,’ after a very irreverent fashion.”1 In 1832 Hunt withdrew the “irreverent”
passages, stating, however, in his preface, that they “gave rise to some of the
most inveterate enmities he had experienced.” We learn from Keats, that Hunt believed the
inveterate Scott to have been his assailant in Blackwood! “He was nearly sure
that ‘The Cockney
School’ was written by Scott, so you are right,
Tom!” (January 23, 1818.)
Scott’s desire, as he told Maturin, was ever to have his foes “where the
muir-cock was baillie, or, as you would say, upon the
sod, but I never let the thing cling to my mind.”
What manner of man at this time was Leigh
Hunt, with his belief that Scott could
let an impertinence “cling to his mind” for seven years, and then avenge
it anonymously, the reader may now estimate for himself. But the worst of
Hunt’s ignorance of a noble nature is, that he probably
persuaded Keats to see his
assailant in the most generous of men. A trace of the old incredible suspicion shows itself
in Mr. Forman’s note on
Keats’s text. “Mr.
Dilke stated that it” (the article on “The Cockney School”) “was written by
Lockhart, Scott’s
son-in-law.” Now, when these articles began, Lockhart
had never even met Scott in society. From the first, as the motto from
Cornelius Webb shows, and as
Keats himself
observes, the writers of “The Cockney School” meant to pillory
Keats. “Our talk shall be (a theme we never tire on) The Muses’ son of promise.” |
These lines, written when Keats
was the unknown author of a small book of poems, not all worthy of him, and when Hunt was no nearer Shakespeare than usual, were irritating to the most lenient observer;
Keats was confused by the Blackwood men with
Hunt and Webb; he knew it,
he expected attack, and says that, if insulted, and if he meets his enemy, “he
must infallibly call him to an account” (November 5, 1817).
After the affair of “The Cockney School” (which, unluckily, had sequels), it is almost a
pleasure to reach the open buffoonery and ingenuity of “The Chaldee Manuscript.” Hogg soon claimed the authorship of “The Chaldee.” “I know not what wicked genius put it
into my head,” says the Shepherd.1 He adds that
Blackwood never thought of publishing it, but
“some of the rascals to whom he showed it almost forced him to insert
it.” “There is a bouncer!” cries a reviewer of
Hogg, apparently Lockhart,
or possibly De Quincey, in Blackwood for August 1821, and he goes
on—
1 “The
Mountain Bard.” Third edition. To which is prefixed a Memoir of
the Author’s Life, p. 65. |
156 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
“About the subject of ‘The
Chaldee,’ let me now speak the truth.” Christopher North, the writer himself,
Blackwood, “and a reverend gentleman of this city, alone
know the perpetrator. . . . It was the same person who murdered Begbie,” the bank porter, whose death is an
undiscovered mystery to this hour. “Like Mr.
Bowles and Ali Pasha, he was a mild
man of unassuming manners, a scholar and a gentleman. It is quite a vulgar error to
suppose him a ruffian. He was sensibility itself, and would not hurt a fly. But it was
a disease with him to excite public emotion. Though he had an amiable wife and a vast
family, he never was happy, unless he saw the world staring like a stuck pig. With
respect to his murdering Begbie, as it is called, he knew the poor
man well, and had frequently given him both small sums of money, and articles of
wearing apparel.” However he decided that, by seeming to slay and rob
Begbie, “there would be no end of public emotion, to use
his own constant phrase on occasions of this nature. He was always kind to the poor
man’s widow, who was rather a gainer by her husband’s death. I have reason
to believe that he ultimately regretted the act, but there can be no doubt that his
enjoyment was great for many years. . . . He confessed ‘The
Chaldee,’ and the murder, the day before he died, to the reverend
gentleman specified, and was sufficiently penitent; yet, with that inconsistency not
unusual in dying men, almost his last words were (indistinctly mumbled to himself,)
‘It ought not to have been left out of the other
editions.’”
“After this plain statement Hogg must look extremely foolish. We shall next have him claiming the
murder likewise, I suppose; but he is totally incapable of either.”
Professor Ferrier, in his edition of “Noctes Ambrosianæ,” does not wholly
bear out the statements either of Hogg or of this
writer. Hogg, he says, conceived the idea, and wrote, in addition to
unpublished portions, Chapter I. i.-xxxvii., with two or three other verses. “The
rest of the production was the workmanship of Wilson and Lockhart.”
As to the authorship of “The Chaldee,” habemus
confitentem reum. On January 27, 1818, Lockhart wrote from Edinburgh to Christie, “I never certainly have been more troubled in mind than
for some two or three months past,”—apparently since Blackwood appeared on October 20, 1817.
“The Chaldee Manuscript” has excited
prodigious noise here—it was the sole subject of conversation for two months. . .
. The history of it is this: Hogg, the
Ettrick Shepherd, sent up an attack on Constable the bookseller, respecting some private
dealings of his with Blackwood. Wilson and I liked the idea of introducing the whole
panorama of the town in that sort of dialect. We drank punch one night from eight till
eight in the morning, Blackwood being by with anecdotes, and the
result is before you. . . .”
158 |
LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. |
|
“The
Chaldee” set all Edinburgh in a flame. The Scot is not famed for being able to
take a joke, especially a joke aimed at himself. People cried “Blasphemy,”
because of the Oriental character of the style, which had good Jacobite precedent in
“The Chronicle of Charles, the Young
Man,” published in that year of grace abounding 1745.1 The “Chaldean” text was from the “Bibliothèque
Royale” (Salle 2, No. 53, B.A.M.M.).2
Monsieur Silvestre de Sacy (of whom the Shepherd can have known little) was understood to be
occupied with an edition of the original.
It may not be superfluous to give a very brief analysis of “The Chaldee.” Blackwood “is a man in plain apparel,”
has “his name as it had been the colour of Ebony, and his number (17 Princes
Street) was the number of a maiden, when the days of her virginity have
expired.” To him come the Two Beasts (Pringle and Cleghorn, ex-editors),
“the joints of their legs like the polished cedars of Lebanon,” for,
indeed, “they came skipping upon staves,” being lame. They brought a
book, “but put no words into it.” Mr. Blackwood,
therefore, called together his friends, while “the man who was crafty in
council” received overtures from the Beasts. This word, crafty, annoyed
Constable, as the nickname had been given to
him, says Lockhart, “by one of his own most
eminent Whig supporters.”
1 The respectable Southey had already written a very dull Biblical parody on
Jeffrey. Here was precedent! 2 Whereby is indicated bam or bite. |
Blackwood, when Constable accepted the Beasts,
said, “I will of myself yield up the book,” that is, abandon his
magazine. However, he took and snuffed up dust from a gem of curious workmanship, and
called in “an aged man,” Henry
Mackenzie, the Man of Feeling. Mr.
Mackenzie later “forbade the magazine his house.”1 However, in “The Chaldee,”
Mr. Mackenzie gives an evasive answer to Blackwood, “and
all the young men that were there lifted up their voices and said” all manner
of kind and respectful things to the venerated sage.
“The great Magician, who dwelleth in the old fortress hard by
the river Jordan” was next appealed to. Sir
Walter was très Normand, and
gave identical answers to the man in plain apparel, and to the man crafty in council.
“He afterwards confessed,” says Lockhart, “that the Chaldæan author had given a sufficiently
accurate version of what passed on the occasion.” Then came Professor Jamieson, Sir David
Brewster, Tytler the historian, and,
alas, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe! Now
Sharpe, at or about this time, was editing Kirkton’s contemporary MS. “History of the Covenant,” with notes on all the
scandals about the Covenanters, for example, about the prowess of the hero of Cherrytrees.
Wilson had a leaning to Covenanters,
Lockhart’s ancestors had been “Whigs frae Bothwell
Brig,” and their fellow-contributor,
160 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
Dr. M’Crie, was extremely Presbyterian.
Sharpe’s love of scandal, and his amusing notes to
Kirkton, may have suggested what “The Chaldee” says of his voice, “even
like the voice of the unclean bird which buildeth its nest in the corner of the
temple” (Kirkton). Sharpe was very
angry; he complained to Scott, who said that his connection with the
magazine was through Will Laidlaw.
Laidlaw wrote the historical chronicle of events from month to
month. Scott, it seems, had secured for him this appointment, and
Laidlaw was his chief link with the magazine.
Sharpe sneers at Laidlaw—“a
person of whom I never heard.” Scott added that Blackwood had sent him an apologetic letter, “stating that the
offensive article had been inserted against his will,” and said that his
remonstrances made Blackwood omit the article in later editions.
In “The
Chaldee” a Veiled Man now aids Blackwood with a list of names of contributors, “the beautiful
Leopard from the valley of the palm trees” (Wilson), and “from a far country, the Scorpion, who delighteth to
sting the faces of men” (Lockhart),
“and the great wild Boar from the Forest of Lebanon” (which men call
Ettrick Forest); “and the Griffin came with a roll of the names of those whose
blood had been shed between his teeth; and I saw him stand over the body of one that
had been buried long in the grave, defending it from all men.” The Griffin is
the Rev. Dr. Thomas M’Crie, the Biographer of
Knox, and from his part in Blackwood arose contendings, and the
shedding of much ink. Sir William Hamilton (who
abode not long with them) is “the black Eagle of the desert, whose cry is as the
sound of an unknown tongue, which flieth over the ancient cities, and hath his dwelling
among the tombs of the wise men.” Constable now appeals to Jeffrey,
“a familiar spirit unto whom he had sold himself. But the spirit was a wicked
spirit and a cruel,” who helped him not. Leslie (Professor of Mathematics) is appealed to, and next the Rev. Professor Playfair. “He also is of the seed
of the prophets, and ministered in the temple while he was yet young; but he went out,
and became one of the scoffers” (Edinburgh Reviewers). These, too, would not aid
Constable. Scott answered as he
did to Blackwood. Macvey
Napier, and a crowd of forgotten folk, rallied to the man crafty in council,
including “John, the Brother of James, a man of low stature, who giveth out merry
things, and is a lover of fables from his youth up,” that is,
“Leeing Johnny,” John Ballantyne. “And there followed many women
which knew not their right hand from their left, also some cattle.”
“The
Chaldee” ends—
“And I fled into an inner chamber to hide myself, and I heard a
great tumult, but I wist not what it was.” A great tumult arose in little
Edinburgh, “no end of public emotion.” Legal proceedings were
threatened; private wergild was paid
162 | LIFE OF J. G. LOCKHART. | |
to the Third Beast, Graham
Dalyell. Scott made Blackwood withdraw the article; there were excursions and
alarms. Being local and personal, “The
Chaldee” caused more trouble in Edinburgh than articles much more
blameworthy.
Ali Pasha of Yannina (1740-1822)
Albanian warlord who expanded his territories during the Napoleonic wars but was
eventually suppressed by the Ottoman Turks; he entertained Byron in 1809.
Aristarchus (220 BC c.-143 BC c.)
Head of the Alexandrian Library and commentator on Greek classical authors.
John Ballantyne (1774-1821)
Edinburgh publisher and literary agent for Walter Scott; he was the younger brother of
the printer James Ballantyne.
William Begbie (d. 1806)
An Edinburgh bank porter stabbed to death in the course of his duties; the murderer was
never discovered.
William Blackwood (1776-1834)
Edinburgh bookseller; he began business 1804 and for a time was John Murray's Scottish
agent. He launched
Blackwood's Magazine in 1817.
William Lisle Bowles (1762-1850)
English poet and critic; author of
Fourteen Sonnets, elegiac and
descriptive, written during a Tour (1789), editor of the
Works
of Alexander Pope, 10 vols (1806), and writer of pamphlets contributing to the
subsequent Pope controversy.
Sir David Brewster (1781-1868)
Scottish natural philosopher and editor of the
Edinburgh
Encyclopaedia (1807-1830). He contributed to the
Literary
Gazette and invented the kaleidoscope.
Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881)
Scottish essayist and man of letters; he translated Goethe's
Wilhelm
Meister (1824) and published
Sartor Resartus
(1833-34).
Geoffrey Chaucer (1340 c.-1400)
English Poet, the author of
The Canterbury Tales (1390 c.).
Jonathan Henry Christie (1793-1876)
Educated at Marischal College, Baliol College, Oxford, and Lincoln's Inn; after slaying
John Scott in the famous duel at Chalk Farm he was acquitted of murder and afterwards
practiced law as a conveyancer in London. He was the lifelong friend of John Gibson
Lockhart and an acquaintance of John Keats.
James Cleghorn (1778-1838)
Scottish journalist and actuary who edited
The Farmer's Magazine,
(briefly, with Thomas Pringle)
Blackwood's Magazine, and afterwards
Constable's
Scots Magazine.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834)
English poet and philosopher who projected
Lyrical Ballads (1798)
with William Wordsworth; author of
Biographia Literaria (1817),
On the Constitution of the Church and State (1829) and other
works.
Archibald Constable (1774-1827)
Edinburgh bookseller who published the
Edinburgh Review and works
of Sir Walter Scott; he went bankrupt in 1826.
John Wilson Croker (1780-1857)
Secretary of the Admiralty (1810) and writer for the
Quarterly
Review; he edited an elaborate edition of Boswell's
Life of
Johnson (1831).
Sir John Graham Dalyell, sixth baronet (1775-1851)
Scottish advocate, antiquary, and naturalist; he edited
Scottish Poems
of the Sixteenth Century (1801). He sued William Blackwood over the ugly
caricature of himself in the “Chaldee Manuscript.”
Dante Alighieri (1265-1321)
Florentine poet, the author of the
Divine Comedy and other
works.
Thomas De Quincey (1785-1859)
English essayist and man of letters; he wrote for the
London
Magazine and
Blackwood's, and was author of
Confessions of an English Opium-Eater (1821).
Charles Wentworth Dilke (1789-1864)
In 1816 he settled in Hampstead and befriended Leigh Hunt, John Hamilton Reynolds, and
John Keats; he contributed antiquarian material to periodicals and was editor of the
Athenaeum (1830-46).
James Frederick Ferrier (1808-1864)
Professor of moral philosophy and political economy at St Andrews (1845); he was the
nephew of John Wilson, whose works he edited (1855-58).
John Fleming of Rayrigg (1769 c.-1835)
Educated at Hawkshead School and St. John's College, Cambridge, he was prebendary of
Llandaff (1800) and rector of Bootle in Westmoreland (1814-35).
James Gillman (1782-1839)
The Highgate surgeon with whom Coleridge lived from 1816 until his death in 1834; in 1838
he published an incomplete
Life of Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
George Robert Gleig (1796-1888)
Prolific Tory writer who rose to attention with
The Subaltern,
serialized in
Blackwood's; he was appointed chaplain-general of the
forces in 1844.
Henry Goulburn (1784-1856)
Educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, he held a variety of government offices and was
Tory MP for Horsham (1808-12), St. Germans (1812-18), West Looe ((1818-26), Armaugh
(1826-31), and Cambridge University (1831-56).
Benjamin Robert Haydon (1786-1846)
English historical painter and diarist who recorded anecdotes of romantic writers and the
physiognomy of several in his paintings.
William Hazlitt (1778-1830)
English essayist and literary critic; author of
Characters of
Shakespeare's Plays (1817),
Lectures on the English Poets
(1818), and
The Spirit of the Age (1825).
James Hogg [The Ettrick Shepherd] (1770-1835)
Scottish autodidact, poet, and novelist; author of
The Queen's
Wake (1813) and
Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified
Sinner (1824).
Theodore Edward Hook (1788-1841)
English novelist, wit, and friend of the Prince of Wales; he edited the
John Bull (1820) and appears as the Lucian Gay of Disraeli's
Conigsby and as Mr. Wagg in
Vanity Fair.
James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784-1859)
English poet, journalist, and man of letters; editor of
The
Examiner and
The Liberal; friend of Byron, Keats, and
Shelley.
Robert Jameson (1774-1854)
Professor of Natural History at Edinburgh University and author of
System of Mineralogy, 3 vols (1804-08).
Francis Jeffrey, Lord Jeffrey (1773-1850)
Scottish barrister, Whig MP, and co-founder and editor of the
Edinburgh
Review (1802-29). As a reviewer he was the implacable foe of the Lake School of
poetry.
George Keats (1797-1841)
John Keats's brother and correspondent who emigrated to America.
John Keats (1795-1821)
English poet, author of
Endymion, "The Eve of St. Agnes," and
other poems, who died of tuberculosis in Rome.
Thomas Keats (1799-1818)
The younger brother of John Keats who died of tuberculosis in 1818.
Jack Ketch (d. 1686)
The common hangman of London during the reign of Charles II; among his better-known
victims were Lord Russell and the Duke of Monmouth.
James Kirkton (1628-1699)
Minister of the Tolbooth parish in Edinburgh and author of
The Secret
and True History of the Church of Scotland which circulated in manuscript until
published by Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe in 1817.
John Knox (1514 c.-1572)
The founder of Presbyterianism in Scotland.
William Laidlaw (1779-1845)
The early friend of James Hogg and Sir Walter Scott's steward and amanuensis.
Sir John Leslie (1766-1832)
Professor of Mathematics at Edinburgh University, author of
Experimental Enquiries into the Nature and Properties of Heat (1804), and
contributor to the
Edinburgh Review.
John Gibson Lockhart (1794-1854)
Editor of the
Quarterly Review (1825-1853); son-in-law of Walter
Scott and author of the
Life of Scott 5 vols (1838).
John Hugh Lockhart (1821-1831)
The first child of John Gibson Lockhart and his wife Sophia, for whom Sir Walter Scott
wrote
Tales of a Grandfather (1828-1831).
Henry Mackenzie (1745-1831)
Scottish man of letters, author of
The Man of Feeling (1770) and
editor of
The Mirror (1779-80) and
The
Lounger (1785-87).
William Maginn (1794-1842)
Irish translator, poet, and Tory journalist who contributed to
Blackwood's and
Fraser's Magazines under a variety of
pseudonyms.
Harriet Martineau (1802-1876)
English writer and reformer; she published
Illustrations of Political
Economy, 9 vols (1832-34) and
Society in America
(1837).
Charles Robert Maturin (1780-1824)
Anglo-Irish clergyman, novelist, and playwright patronized by Walter Scott; author of the
tragedy
Betram (1816) and the novel
Melmoth the
Wanderer (1820).
Thomas McCrie (1772-1835)
Scottish seceding divine and historian; he was professor of divinity at Edinburgh
(1816-1818) and wrote
Life of John Knox (1812).
John Milton (1608-1674)
English poet and controversialist; author of
Comus (1634),
Lycidas (1638),
Areopagitica (1644),
Paradise Lost (1667), and other works.
John Murray II (1778-1843)
The second John Murray began the
Quarterly Review in 1809 and
published works by Scott, Byron, Austen, Crabbe, and other literary notables.
Macvey Napier (1776-1847)
Scottish barrister, editor of the
Encyclopedia Britannica, and
from 1829 editor of the
Edinburgh Review.
Emperor Napoleon I (1769-1821)
Military leader, First Consul (1799), and Emperor of the French (1804), after his
abdication he was exiled to Elba (1814); after his defeat at Waterloo he was exiled to St.
Helena (1815).
John Playfair (1748-1819)
Professor of Mathematics at Edinburgh University and Whig man of letters who contributed
to the
Edinburgh Review.
Thomas Pringle (1789-1834)
Scottish poet, journalist, and abolitionist, who after a brief stint as one of the
founding editors of
Blackwood's Magazine emigrated to southern
Africa.
Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe (1781-1851)
Scottish poet, painter, editor, antiquary, and eccentric; he edited James Kirkton's
Secret and True History of the Church of Scotland (1817) with
elaborate notes mocking his author.
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822)
English poet, with Byron in Switzerland in 1816; author of
Queen
Mab (1813),
The Revolt of Islam (1817),
The Cenci and
Prometheus Unbound (1820), and
Adonais (1821).
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).
Edmund Spenser (1552 c.-1599)
English poet, author of
The Shepheards Calender (1579) and
The Faerie Queene (1590, 1596).
Sir John Suckling (1609-1641 c.)
Cavalier poet and playwright whose
Session of the Poets (1637) was
often imitated.
Daniel Terry (1789-1829)
English actor; after a career in provincial theater made his London debut in 1812. A
close friend of Walter Scott, he performed in theatrical adaptations of Scott's
novels.
Patrick Fraser Tytler (1791-1849)
Sottish barrister, son of Alexander Fraser Tytler; he published
The
Life of the Admirable Crichton (1819),
History of Scotland
(1828-43), and other works.
Cornelius Francis Webbe (1789-1858)
English poet and member of Leigh Hunt's circle; he published several collections of poems
and contributed to the magazines.
John Wilson [Christopher North] (1785-1854)
Scottish poet and Tory essayist, the chief writer for the “Noctes Ambrosianae” in
Blackwood's Magazine and professor of moral philosophy at Edinburgh
University (1820).
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
With Coleridge, author of
Lyrical Ballads (1798), Wordsworth
survived his early unpopularity to succeed Robert Southey as poet laureate in 1843.
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine. (1817-1980). Begun as the
Edinburgh Monthly Magazine,
Blackwood's assumed the name of its proprietor, William Blackwood after the sixth
number. Blackwood was the nominal editor until 1834.
The Examiner. (1808-1881). Founded by John and Leigh Hunt, this weekly paper divided its attention between literary
matters and radical politics; William Hazlitt was among its regular contributors.
John Bull. (1820-1892). A scurrilous Tory weekly newspaper edited by Theodore Hook.
The Quarterly Review. (1809-1967). Published by John Murray, the
Quarterly was instigated by Walter
Scott as a Tory rival to the
Edinburgh Review. It was edited by
William Gifford to 1824, and by John Gibson Lockhart from 1826 to 1853.
The Scots Magazine. 65 vols (1739-1803). Continued as
The Scots Magazine and Edinburgh Literary Miscellany
(1804-17) and
The Edinburgh Magazine and Literary Miscellany
(1817-26).
L'Encyclopédie. 17 vols (Paris: 1751-1772). Edited by Diderot and d'Alembert.