LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. | 91 |
The report of Walter’s progress in horsemanship probably reminded his father that it was time he should be learning other things beyond the department either of aunt Jenny or uncle Thomas, and after a few months he was recalled to Edinburgh. But extraordinary as was the progress he had by this time made in that self-education, which alone is of primary consequence to spirits of his order, he was found too deficient in lesser matters to be at once entered in the High School. Probably his mother dreaded, and deferred as long as she could, the day when he should be exposed to the rude collision of a crowd of boys. At all events he was placed first in a little private school kept by one Leechman in Bristo-port; and then, that experiment not answering expectation, under the domestic tutorage of Mr James French, afterwards minister of East Kilbride in Lanarkshire. This respectable man grounded him in the Latin grammar, and considered him fit to join Luke Fraser’s second class in October 1779.
His own account of his progress at this excellent seminary is, on the whole, very similar to what I have received from some of his surviving school-fellows. His quick apprehension and powerful memory enabled him, at little cost of labour, to perform the usual routine of tasks, in such a manner as to keep him generally “in
92 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
He speaks of himself as occasionally “glancing like a meteor from the bottom to the top of the form.” His school-fellow, Mr Claud Russell, remembers that he once made a great leap in consequence of the stupidity of some laggard on what is called the dult’s (dolt’s) bench,
* According to Mr Irving’s recollection, Scott’s place, after the first winter, was usually between the 7th and the 15th from the top of the class. He adds, “Dr James Buchan was always the dux; David Douglas (Lord Reston) second; and the present Lord Melville third.” |
EDINBURGH HIGH SCHOOL. | 93 |
Mr Rogers says—“Sitting one day alone with him in your house, in the Regent’s Park—(it was the day but one before he left it to embark at Portsmouth for Malta)—I led him, among other things, to tell me once again a story of himself, which he had formerly told me, and which I had often wished to recover. When I returned home, I wrote it down, as nearly as I could, in his own words; and here they are. The subject is an achievement worthy of Ulysses himself, and such as many of his school-fellows could, no doubt, have related of him; but I fear I have done it no justice, though the story is so very characteristic that it should not be lost. The inimitable manner in which he told it—the glance of the eye, the turn of the head, and the light that played over his faded features as, one by one, the circumstances came back to him, accompanied by a thousand boyish feelings, that had slept perhaps for years—there is no language, not even his own, could convey to you; but you can supply them. Would that
* Chap. xvi. v. 7. |
94 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“There was a boy in my class at school, who stood always at the top,* nor could I with all my efforts supplant him. Day came after day, and still he kept his place, do what I would; till at length I observed that, when a question was asked him, he always fumbled with his fingers at a particular button in the lower part of his waistcoat. To remove it, therefore, became expedient in my eyes; and in an evil moment it was removed with a knife. Great was my anxiety to know the success of my measure; and it succeeded too well. When the boy was again questioned, his fingers sought again for the button, but it was not to be found. In his distress he looked down for it; it was to be seen no more than to be felt. He stood confounded, and I took possession of his place; nor did he ever recover it, or ever, I believe, suspect who was the author of his wrong. Often in after-life has the sight of him smote me as I passed by him; and often have I resolved to make him some reparation; but it ended in good resolutions. Though I never renewed my acquaintance with him, I often saw him, for he filled some inferior office in one of the courts of law at Edinburgh. Poor fellow! I believe he is dead; he took early to drinking.”
The autobiography tells us that his translations in verse from Horace and Virgil were often approved by Dr Adam. One of these little pieces, written in a weak boyish scrawl, within pencilled marks still visible, had
* Mr Irving inclines to think that this incident must have occurred during Scott’s attendance on Luke Fraser, not after he went to Dr Adam; and he also suspects that the boy referred to sat at the top not to the class, but of Scott’s own bench or division of the class. |
EDINBURGH—HIGH SCHOOL. | 95 |
“In awful ruins Ætna thunders nigh, And sends in pitchy whirlwinds to the sky Black clouds of smoke, which, still as they aspire, From their dark sides there bursts the glowing fire; At other times huge balls of fire are toss’d, That lick the stars, and in the smoke are lost: Sometimes the mount, with vast convulsions torn, Emits huge rocks, which instantly are borne With loud explosions to the starry skies, The stones made liquid as the huge mass flies, Then back again with greater weight recoils, While Ætna thundering from the bottom boils.” |
In his Introduction to the “Lay,” he alludes to an original effusion of these “schoolboy days,” prompted by a thunder-storm, which he says “was much approved of, until a malevolent critic sprung up in the shape of an apothecary’s blue-buskined wife, who affirmed that my most sweet poetry was copied from an old magazine. I never” (he continues) “forgave the imputation, and even now I acknowledge some resentment against the poor woman’s memory. She indeed accused me unjustly, when she said I had stolen my poem ready made; but as I had, like most premature poets, copied all the words and ideas of which my verses consisted, she was so far right. I made one or two faint attempts at verse after I had undergone this sort of daw-plucking at the hands of the apothecary’s wife, but some friend or other always advised me to put my verses into the fire; and, like Dorax in the play, I
96 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“On a Thunder-storm.
“Loud o’er my head though awful thunders roll,
And vivid lightnings flash from pole to pole,
Yet ’tis thy voice, my God, that bids them fly,
Thy arm directs those lightnings through the sky.
Then let the good thy mighty name revere,
And hardened sinners thy just vengeance fear.”
|
On the Setting Sun.
“Those evening clouds, that setting ray
And beauteous tints, serve to display
Their great Creator’s praise;
Then let the short-lived thing call’d man,
Whose life’s comprised within a span,
To Him his homage raise.
|
“We often praise the evening clouds,
And tints so gay and bold,
But seldom think upon our God,
Who tinged these clouds with gold!”*
|
It must, I think, be allowed that these lines, though of the class to which the poet himself modestly ascribes them, and not to be compared with the efforts of Pope,
* I am obliged for these little memorials to the Rev. W. Steven of Rotterdam, author of an interesting book on the history of the branch of the Scotch Church long established in Holland, and still flourishing under the protection of the enlightened government of that country. Mr Steven found them in the course of his recent researches, undertaken with a view to some memoirs of the High School of Edinburgh, at which he had received his own early education. |
EDINBURGH—HIGH SCHOOL. | 97 |
The fragment tells us, that on the whole he was “more distinguished in the Yards (as the High School playground was called), than in the class;” and this, not less than the intellectual advancement which years before had excited the admiration of Mrs Cockburn, was the natural result of his lifelong “rebellion against external circumstances.” He might now with very slender exertion have been the dux of his form, but if there was more difficulty, there was also more to whet his ambition, in the attempt to overcome the disadvantages of his physical misfortune, and in spite of them assert equality with the best of his compeers on the ground which they considered as the true arena of honour. He told me, in walking through these same yards forty years afterwards, that he had scarcely made his first appearance there, before some dispute arising, his opponent remarked that “there was no use to hargle-bargle with a cripple;” upon which he replied, that if he might fight mounted, he would try his hand with any one of his inches. “An elder boy” (said he), “who had perhaps been chuckling over our friend Roderick Random when his mother supposed him to be in fall cry after Pyrrhus or Porus, suggested that the two little tinklers might be lashed front to front upon a deal board—and—‘O gran bonta de’ cavalier antichi’—the proposal being forthwith agreed to, I received my first bloody nose in an attitude which would have entitled me, in the blessed days of personal cognizances, to assume that of a lioncel seiant gules. My pugilistic trophies here” (he continued) “were all the results of such sittings in banco” Considering his utter ignorance of fear, the strength of his chest and upper limbs, and that the scientific part of pugilism never
98 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
The mettle of the High-School boys, however, was principally displayed elsewhere than in their own yards; and Sir Walter has furnished us with ample indications of the delight with which he found himself at length capable of rivalling others in such achievements as required the exertion of active locomotive powers. Speaking of some scene of his infancy in one of his latest tales, he says: “Every step of the way after I have passed through the green already mentioned” (probably the Meadows behind George’s Square), “has for me something of an early remembrance. There is the stile at which I can recollect a cross child’s-maid upbraiding me with my infirmity as she lifted me coarsely and carelessly over the flinty steps which my brothers traversed with shout and bound. I remember the suppressed bitterness of the moment, and conscious of my own infirmity, the envy with which I regarded the easy movements and elastic steps of my more happily formed brethren. Alas!” (he adds), “these goodly barks have all perished in life’s wide ocean, and only that which seemed, as the naval phrase goes, so little sea-worthy, has reached the port when the tempest is over.” How touching to compare with this passage, that in which he records his pride in being found before he left the High School one of the boldest and nimblest climbers of “the kittle nine stanes,” a passage of difficulty which might puzzle a chamois-hunter of the Alps, its steps “few and far between,” projected high in air from the precipitous black granite of the Castle rock. But climbing and fighting could sometimes be combined, and he has in almost the same page dwelt upon perhaps the most favourite of all these juvenile exploits—namely, “the manning of the Cowgate Port,”—in the season when snowballs could be
GREEN-BREEKS. | 99 |
I am unwilling to swell this narrative by extracts from Scott’s published works, but there is one juvenile exploit told in the General Preface to the Waverley Novels which I must crave leave to introduce here in his own language, because it is essentially necessary to complete our notion of his schoolboy life and character. “It is well known” (he says) “that there is little boxing at the Scottish schools. About forty or fifty years ago, however, a far more dangerous mode of fighting, in parties or factions, was permitted in the streets of Edinburgh, to the great disgrace of the police, and danger of the parties concerned. These parties were generally formed from the quarters of the town in which the combatants resided, those of a particular square or district fighting against those of an adjoining one. Hence it happened that the children of the higher classes were often pitted against those of the lower, each taking their side according to the residence of their friends. So far as I recollect, however, it was unmingled either with feelings of democracy or aristo-
100 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“The author’s father, residing in George’s Square, in the southern side of Edinburgh, the boys belonging to that family, with others in the square, were arranged into a sort of company, to which a lady of distinction presented a handsome set of colours.* Now, this company or regiment, as a matter of course, was engaged in weekly warfare with the boys inhabiting the Crosscauseway, Bristo-Street, the Potterrow,—in short, the neighbouring suburbs. These last were chiefly of the lower rank, but hardy loons, who threw stones to a hair’s-breadth, and were very rugged antagonists at close quarters. The skirmish sometimes lasted for a whole evening, until one party or the other was victorious, when, if ours were successful, we drove the enemy to their quarters, and were usually chased back by the reinforcement of bigger lads who came to their assistance. If, on the contrary, we were pursued, as was often the case, into the precincts of our square, we were in our turn supported by our elder brothers, domestic servants, and similar auxiliaries. It followed, from our frequent opposition to each other, that, though not knowing the names of our enemies, we were yet well acquainted with their appearance, and had nicknames for the most remarkable of them. One very
* This young patroness was the present Countess-Duchess of Sutherland. |
GREEN-BREEKS. | 101 |
“It fell, that once upon a time when the combat was at the thickest, this plebeian champion headed a charge so rapid and furious, that all fled before him. He was several paces before his comrades, and had actually laid his hands upon the patrician standard, when one of our party, whom some misjudging friend had intrusted with, a couteau de chasse, or hanger, inspired with a zeal for the honour of the corps, worthy of Major Sturgeon himself, struck poor Green-breeks over the head, with strength sufficient to cut him down. When this was seen, the casualty was so far beyond what had ever taken place before, that both parties fled different ways, leaving poor Green-breeks, with his bright hair plentifully dabbled in blood, to the care of the watchman, who (honest man) took care not to know who had done the mischief. The bloody hanger was thrown into one of the Meadow ditches, and solemn secrecy was sworn on all hands; but the remorse and terror of the actor were beyond all bounds, and his apprehensions of the most dreadful character. The wounded hero was for a few days in the Infirmary, the case being only a trifling one.
102 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
During some part of his attendance on the High School, young Walter spent one hour daily at a small separate seminary of writing and arithmetic, kept by one Morton, where, as was, and I suppose continues to be, the
MRS CHURNSIDE. | 103 |
“He attracted,” Mrs Churnside says, “the regard and fondness of all his companions, for he was ever rational, fanciful, lively, and possessed of that urbane gentleness of manner, which makes its way to the heart. His imagination was constantly at work, and he often so engrossed the attention of those who learnt with him, that little could be done—Mr Morton himself being forced to laugh as much as the little scholars at the odd turns and devices he fell upon; for he did nothing in the ordinary way, but, for example, even when he wanted ink to his pen, would get up some ludicrous story about sending his doggie to the mill again. He used also to interest us in a more serious way, by telling us the visions, as he called them, which he had lying alone on the floor or sofa, when kept from going to church on a Sunday by ill health. Child as I was, I could not help being highly delighted with his description of the glories he had seen—his misty and sublime sketches of the regions above, which he had visited in his trance. Recollecting these descriptions, radiant and not gloomy as they were, I have often thought since,
104 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
This beautiful extract needs no commentary. I may as well, however, bear witness, that exactly as the schoolboy still walks before “her mind’s eye,” his image rises familiarly to mine, who never saw him until he was past the middle of life: that I trace in every feature of her delineation, the same gentleness of aspect and demeanour which the presence of the female sex, whether in silk or in russet, ever commanded in the man; and that her description of the change on his countenance when passing from the “doggie of the mill,” to the dream of Paradise, is a perfect picture of what no one that has heard him recite a fragment of high poetry, in the course of table-talk, can ever forget. Strangers may catch some notion of what fondly dwells on the memory of every friend, by glancing from the conversational bust of Chantrey, to the first portrait by Raeburn, which represents the Last Minstrel as musing in his prime within sight of Hermitage.*
* The Duke of Buccleuch, who now possesses this admirable portrait, has kindly permitted it to be re-engraved for the illustration of the present volume. |
EDINBURGH—HIGH SCHOOL. | 105 |
It was at this same period that Mr and Mrs Scott received into their house, as tutor for their children, Mr James Mitchell, of whom the Ashestiel Memoir gives us a description, such as I could not have presented had he been still alive. Mr Mitchell was still living, however, at the time of his pupil’s death, and I am now not only at liberty to present Scott’s unmutilated account of their intercourse, but enabled to give also the most simple and characteristic narrative of the other party. I am sure no one, however nearly related to Mr Mitchell, will now complain of seeing his keen-sighted pupil’s sketch placed by the side, as it were, of the fuller portraiture drawn by the unconscious hand of the amiable and worthy man himself. The following is an extract from Mr Mitchell’s MS., entitled “Memorials of the most remarkable occurrences and trans-
106 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“In 1782,” says Mr Mitchell, “I became a tutor in Mr Walter Scott’s family. He was a Writer to the Signet, in George’s Square, Edinburgh. Mr Scott was a fine looking man, then a little past the meridian of life, of dignified, yet agreeable manners. His business was extensive. He was a man of tried integrity, of strict morals, and had a respect for religion and its ordinances. The church the family attended was the Old Grey Friars, of which the celebrated Doctors Robertson and Erskine were the ministers. Thither went Mr and Mrs Scott every Sabbath, when well and at home, attended by their fine young family of children, and their domestic servants—a sight so amiable and exemplary as often to excite in my breast a glow of heartfelt satisfaction. According to an established and laudable practice in the family, the heads of it, the children, and servants were assembled on Sunday evenings in the drawing-room, and examined on the Church catechism and sermons they had heard delivered during the course of the day; on which occasions I had to perform the part of chaplain, and conclude with prayer. From Mrs Scott I learned that Mr Scott was one that had not been seduced from the paths of virtue; but had been enabled to venerate good morals from his youth. When he first came to Edinburgh to follow out his profession,
MR MITCHELL’S REMINISCENCES. | 107 |
“After having heard of his inflexible adherence to the cause of virtue in his youth, and his regular attendance on the ordinances of religion in after-life, we will not be surprised to be told that he bore a sacred regard for the Sabbath, nor at the following anecdote illustrative of it. An opulent farmer of East Lothian had employed Mr Scott as his agent, in a cause depending before the Court of Session. Having a curiosity to see something in the papers relative to the process, which were deposited in Mr Scott’s hands, this worldly man came into Edinburgh on a Sunday to have an inspection of them. As there was no immediate necessity for this measure, Mr Scott asked the farmer if an ordinary week-day would not answer equally well. The farmer was not willing to take this advice, but insisted on the production of his papers. Mr Scott then delivered them up to him, saying, it was not his practice to engage in secular business on Sabbath, and that he would have no difficulty in Edinburgh to find some of his profession who would have none of his scruples. No wonder such a man was confided in, and greatly honoured in his professional line.—All the poor services I did to his family were more than repaid by the comfort and honour I had by being in the family, the pecuniary remuneration I received, and particularly by his recommendation of me, sometimes afterwards, to the Magistrates and Town-Council of Mon-
108 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Mrs Scott was a wife in every respect worthy of such a husband. Like her partner, she was then a little past the meridian of life, of a prepossessing appearance, amiable manners, of a cultivated understanding, affectionate disposition, and fine taste. She was both able and disposed to soothe her husband’s mind under the asperities of business, and to be a rich blessing to her numerous progeny. But what constituted her distinguishing ornament was, that she was sincerely religious. Some years previous to my entrance into the family, I understood from one of the servants she had been under deep religious concern about her soul’s salvation, which had ultimately issued in a conviction of the truth of Christianity, and in the enjoyment of its divine consolations. She liked Dr Erskine’s sermons; but was not fond of the Principal’s, however rational, eloquent, and well composed, and would, if other things had answered, have gone, when he preached, to have heard Dr Davidson. Mrs Scott was a descendant of Dr Daniel Rutherford, a professor in the Medical School of Edinburgh, and one of those eminent men, who, by learning and professional skill, brought it to the high pitch of celebrity to which it has attained. He was an excellent linguist, and, according to the custom of the times, delivered his prelections to the students in Latin. Mrs Scott told me, that, when prescribing to his patients, it was his custom to offer up at the same time a prayer for the accompanying blessing of heaven; a laudable practice, in which, I fear, he has not been generally imitated by those of his profession.
“Mr Scott’s family consisted of six children, all of which were at home except the eldest, who was an offi-
MR MITCHELL’S REMINISCENCES. | 109 |
110 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
‘Quis novus hic hospes successit sedibus
nostris?’* |
* This transposition of hospes and nostris sufficiently confirms his pupil’s statement that Mr Mitchell “superintended his classical themes, but not classically.” The “obnoxious master “alluded to was Burns’s friend Nicoll, the hero of the song—
|
MR MITCHELL’S REMINISCENCES. | 111 |
“One forenoon, on coming from the High School, he said he wished to know my opinion as to his conduct in a matter he should state to me. When passing through the High School Yards, he found a half-guinea piece on the ground. Instead of appropriating this to his own use, a sense of honesty led him to look around, and on doing so he espied a countryman, whom he suspected to be the proprietor. Having asked the man if he had lost anything, he searched his pockets, and then replied that he had lost half-a-guinea. Master Walter with pleasure presented him with his lost treasure. In this transaction, his ingenuity in finding out the proper owner, and his integrity in restoring the property, met my most cordial approbation.
“When in church, Master Walter had more of a soporific tendency than the rest of my young charge. This seemed to be constitutional. He needed one or other of the family to arouse him, and from this it might be inferred that he would cut a poor figure on the Sabbath evening when examined about the sermons. But what excited the admiration of the family was, that none of the children, however wakeful, could answer as he did. The only way that I could account for this was, that when he heard the text, and divisions of the subject, his good sense, memory, and genius supplied the thoughts which would occur to the preacher.
112 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“On one occasion, in the dining-room, when, according to custom, he was reading some author in the time of relaxation from study, I asked him how he accounted for the superiority of knowledge he possessed above the rest of the family. His reply was—Some years ago he had been attacked by a swelling in one of his ankles, which confined him to the house, and prevented him taking amusement and exercise, and which was the cause of his lameness as under this ailment he could not romp with his brothers and the other young people in the green in George’s Square, he found himself compelled to have recourse to some substitute for the juvenile amusements of his comrades, and this was reading. So that, to what he no doubt accounted a painful dispensation of Providence, he probably stood indebted for his future celebrity. When it was understood I was to leave the family, Master Walter told me that he had a small present to give me to be kept as a memorandum of his friendship, and that it was of little value: ‘But you know, Mr Mitchell,’ said he, ‘that presents are not to be estimated according to their intrinsic value, but according to the intention of the donor.’ This was his Adam’s grammar, which had seen hard service in its day, and had many animals and inscriptions on its margins. This, to my regret, is no longer to be found in my collection of books, nor do I know what has become of it.
“Since leaving the family, although no stranger to the widely spreading fame of Sir Walter, I have had few opportunities of personal intercourse with him. When minister in the second charge of the Established Church at Montrose, he paid me a visit, and spent a night with me—few visits have been more gratifying. He was then on his return from Aberdeen, where he, as an advocate, had attended the Court of Justiciary in its
MR MITCHELL’S REMINISCENCES. | 113 |
114 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Notwithstanding the rigidly Presbyterian habits which this chronicle describes with so much more satisfaction than the corresponding page in the Ashestiel Memoir, I am reminded, by a communication already quoted from a lady of the Ravelstone family, that Mrs Scott, who had, she says, “a turn for literature quite uncommon among the ladies of the time,” encouraged her son in his passion for Shakspeare that his plays, and the Arabian Nights, were often read aloud in the family circle by Walter, “and served to spend many a happy evening hour”—nay, that, however good Mitchell may have frowned at such a suggestion, even Mr Scott made little objection to his children, and some of their young friends, getting up private theatricals occasionally in the dining-room, after the lessons of the day were over. The lady adds, that Walter was always the manager, and had the whole charge of the affair, and that the favourite piece used to be Jane Shore, in which he was the Hastings, his sister the Alicia. I have heard from another friend of the family, that Richard III. also was attempted, and that Walter took the part of the Duke of Gloucester, observing that “the limp would do well enough to represent the hump.”
A story which I have seen in print, about his partaking in the dancing lessons of his brothers, I do not believe. But it was during Mr Mitchell’s residence in the family that they all made their unsuccessful attempts in the art of music, under the auspices of poor Elshender Campbell the Editor of “Albyn’s Anthology.”
Mr Mitchell appears to have terminated his super-
KELSO—THE GARDEN. | 115 |
Some of the features of Miss Jenny’s abode at Kelso are alluded to in the Memoir, but the fullest description of it occurs in his “Essay on Landscape Gardening” (1828), where, talking of grounds laid out in the Dutch taste, he says: “Their rarity now entitles them to some care as a species of antiques, and unquestionably they give character to some snug, quiet, and sequestered situations, which would otherwise have no marked feature of any kind. I retain an early and pleasing recollection of the seclusion of such a scene. A small cottage, adjacent to a beautiful village, the habitation of an ancient maiden lady, was for some time my abode. It was situated in a garden of seven or eight acres, planted about the beginning of the eighteenth century, by one of the Millars related to the author of the “Gardeners’ Dictionary,” or, for aught I know, by himself. It was full of long straight walks, between hedges of yew and hornbeam, which rose tall and close on every side. There were thickets of flowery shrubs, a bower, and an arbour, to which access was obtained through a little maze of contorted walks calling itself a labyrinth. In the centre of the bower was a splendid Platanus, or Oriental plane—a huge hill of leaves—one of the noblest specimens of that regularly beautiful tree which I remember to have seen. In different parts of the garden were fine ornamental trees, which had attained great size, and the orchard was filled with fruit
116 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
To keep up his scholarship while inhabiting the garden, he attended daily, as he informs us, the public school of Kelso, and here he made his first acquaintance with a family, two members of which were intimately connected with the most important literary transactions of his after life—James Ballantyne, the printer of almost all his works, and his brother John, who had a share in the publication of many of them. Their father was a respectable tradesman in this pretty town. The elder of the brothers, who did not long survive his illustrious friend, was kind enough to make an exertion on behalf of this work, while stretched on the bed from which he never rose, and dictated a valuable paper of memoranda, from which I shall here introduce my first extract:—
“I think” (says James Ballantyne) “it was in the year 1783, that I first became acquainted with Sir Walter Scott, then a boy about my own age, at the Grammar School of Kelso, of which Mr Lancelot Whale was the Rector. The impression left by his manners was, even at that early period, calculated to be deep, and I cannot recall any other instance in which the man and
KELSO—JAMES BALLANTYNE. | 117 |
118 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Perhaps the separate seat assigned to Walter Scott, by the Kelso schoolmaster, was considered due to him as a temporary visitor from the great Edinburgh seminary. Very possibly, however, the worthy Mr Whale thought of nothing but protecting his solitary student of Persius and Tacitus from the chances of being jostled among the adherents of Ruddiman and Cornelius Nepos.
Another of his Kelso schoolfellows was Robert Waldie (son of Mr Waldie of Henderside), and to this connexion he owed, both while quartered in the Garden, and afterwards at Rosebank, many kind attentions, of which he ever preserved a grateful recollection, and which have left strong traces on every page of his works in which he has occasion to introduce the Society of Friends. This young companion’s mother, though always called in the neighbourhood “Lady Waldie,” belonged to that community; and the style of life and manners depicted in the household of Joshua Geddes of Mount Sharon and his amiable sister, in some of the sweetest chapters of Redgauntlet, is a slightly decorated edition of what he witnessed under her hospitable roof. He records, in a note to the Novel, the “liberality and benevolence” of this “kind old lady” in allowing him to “rummage at pleasure, and carry home any volumes he chose of her small but valuable library,” annexing only the condition that he should “take at the same time some of the tracts printed for encouraging and extending the doctrines of her own sect. She did not,” he adds, “even exact any assurance that I would read these performances, being too justly afraid of involving me in a breach of promise, but was merely desirous that I should have the chance of instruction within my reach, in case whim, curiosity, or accident might induce me to have recourse to it.” I remember the pleasure with
KELSO—1783. | 119 |
I shall be pardoned for adding in this place a marginal note, written apparently late in Scott’s life, on his copy of a little forgotten volume, entitled “Trifles in Verse, by a Young Soldier.” “In 1783” (he says) “or about that time, I remember John Marjoribanks, a smart recruiting officer in the village of Kelso, the Weekly Chronicle of which he filled with his love verses. His Delia was a Miss Dickson, daughter of a shopkeeper in the same village—his Gloriana a certain prudish old maiden lady, benempt Miss Goldie; I think I see her still, with her thin arms sheathed in scarlet gloves, and crossed like two lobsters in a fishmonger’s stand. Poor Delia was a very beautiful girl, and not more conceited than a be-rhymed miss ought to be. Many years afterwards I found the Kelso belle, thin and pale, her good looks gone, and her smart dress neglected, governess to the brats of a Paisley manufacturer. I ought to say there was not an atom of scandal in her flirtation with the young military poet. The bard’s fate was not much better; after some service in India, and elsewhere, he led a half-pay life about Edinburgh, and died there. There is a tenuity of thought in what he has written, but his verses are usually easy, and I like them because they recall my schoolboy days, when I thought him a Horace, and his Delia a goddess.”
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