346 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Goethe expressed, I fancy, a very general sentiment, when he said, that to him the great charm and value of my friend’s Life of Buonaparte seemed quite independent of the question of its accuracy as to small details; that he turned eagerly to the book, not to find dates sifted, and countermarches analyzed, but to contemplate what could not but be a true record of the broad impressions made on the mind of Scott by the marvellous revolutions of his own time in their progress. Feeling how justly in the main that work has preserved those impressions, though gracefully softened and sobered in the retrospect of peaceful and more advanced years, I the less regret that I have it not in my power to quote any letters of his touching the reappearance of Napoleon on the soil of France—the immortal march from Cannes—the reign of the Hundred Days, and the preparations for another struggle, which fixed the gaze of Europe in May 1815.
That he should have been among the first civilians who hurried over to
see the field of Waterloo, and hear
LETTER FROM SIR CHARLES BELL. | 347 |
“Victor of Assaye’s Eastern plain, Victor of all the fields of Spain.” |
“This country, the finest in the world, has been of
late quite out of our minds. I did not, in any degree, anticipate the pleasure
I should enjoy, the admiration
348 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I have just returned from seeing the French
wounded received in their hospital; and could you see them laid out naked, or
almost so—100 in a row of low beds on the ground though wounded, exhausted,
beaten, you would still conclude with me that these were men capable of
marching unopposed from the west of Europe to the east of Asia. Strong,
thickset, hardy veterans, brave spirits and unsubdued, as they cast their wild
glance upon you,—their black eyes and brown cheeks finely contrasted with the
fresh sheets,—you would much admire their capacity of adaptation. These fellows
are brought from the field after lying many days on the ground; many dying—many
in the agony many miserably racked with pain and spasms; and the next mimicks
his fellow, and gives it a tune,—Aha, vous chantez
bien! How they are wounded you will see in my notes. But
I must not have you to lose the present impression on me of the formidable
nature of these fellows as exemplars of the breed in France. It is a forced
praise; for from all I have seen, and all I have heard of their fierceness,
cruelty, and bloodthirstiness, I cannot convey to
LETTER FROM SIR CHAELES BELL. | 349 |
“This superb city is now ornamented with the finest groupes of armed men that the most romantic fancy could dream of. I was struck with the words of a friend—E.: ‘I saw,’ said he, ‘that man returning from the field on the 16th.’ (This was a Brunswicker of the Black or Death Hussars.) ‘He was wounded, and had had his arm amputated on the field. He was among the first that came in. He rode straight and stark upon his horse the bloody clouts about his stump pale as death, but upright, with a stern, fixed expression of feature, as if loth to lose his revenge.’ These troops are very remarkable in their fine military appearance; their dark and ominous dress sets off to advantage their strong, manly, northern features and white mustachios; and there is something more than commonly impressive about the whole effect.
“This is the second Sunday after the battle, and many are not yet dressed. There are 20,000 wounded in this town, besides those in the hospitals, and the many in the other towns;—only 3000 prisoners; 80,000, they say, killed and wounded on both sides.”
I think it not wonderful that this extract should have set Scott’s imagination effectually on fire; that he should
have grasped at the idea of seeing probably the last shadows of real warfare that his own
age would afford; or that some parts of the great surgeon’s simple phraseology are
reproduced, almost verbatim, in the first of “Paul’s Letters to his Kinsfolk.” No sooner was
Scott’s purpose known, than some of his young neighbours in
350 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
They travelled by the stage-coach, and took the route of Hull and Lincoln to Cambridge; for Gala and Whytbank, being both members of that university, were anxious to seize this opportunity of revisiting it themselves, and showing its beautiful architecture to their friend. After this wish had been gratified, they proceeded to Harwich, and thence, on the 3d of August, took ship for Helvoetsluys.
“The weather was beautiful,” says Gala, “so we all went outside the coach from
Cambridge to Harwich. At starting, there was a general complaint of thirst, the
consequence of some experiments overnight on the celebrated bishop of my Alma Mater; our friend, however, was in
great glee, and never was a merrier basket than he made it all
the morning. He had cautioned us, on leaving Edinburgh, never to name names in such
situations, and our adherence to this rule was rewarded by some amusing incidents. For
example, as we entered the town where we were to dine, a heavy-looking man, who was to
stop there, took occasion to thank Scott for the
pleasure his anecdotes had afforded him: ‘You have a good memory,
sir,’ said he; ‘mayhap, now, you sometimes write down what you hear
or be a-reading about?’ He answered very gravely, that he did
occasionally put down a few notes, if any thing struck him particularly. In the
afternoon, it happened that he sat on the box, while the rest of us were behind him.
Here, by degrees, he became quite absorbed in his own reflections. He frequently
repeated to himself, or composed perhaps, for a good
CONTINENTAL TOUR—JULY, 1815. | 351 |
Before leaving Edinburgh, Scott had settled in his mind the plan of “Paul’s Letters;” for on that same day, his agent, John Ballantyne, addressed the following letter, from his marine villa near Newhaven—
“Mr Scott left town to-day for the Continent. He proposes writing from thence a series of letters on a peculiar plan, varied in matter and style, and to different supposititious correspondents.
“The work is to form a demy 8vo volume of twenty-two sheets, to sell at 12s. It is to be begun immediately on his arrival in France, and to be published, if possible, the second week of September, when he proposes to return.
“We print 3000 of this, and I am empowered to offer you one-third of the edition, Messrs Longman and Co. and Mr Murray having each the same share: the terms, twelve months’ acceptance for paper and print, and half profits at six months, granted now, as under. The over copies will pay the charge for advertising. I am, &c.
352 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Charge. | ||
22 sheets printing,— | L.3 15 0 | L.82 10 0 |
145 reams, demy,— | 1 10 0 | 217 10 0 |
_________ | ||
L.300 0 0 | ||
3000 at 8s. | L.1200 0 0 | |
Cost, | 300 0 0 | |
_________ | ||
L.900 0 0 | Profit—one-half is L.450.” |
Before Scott reached Harwich, he
knew that this offer had been accepted without hesitation; and thenceforth, accordingly, he
threw his daily letters to his wife into the form of communications meant for an imaginary
group, consisting of a spinster sister, a statistical laird, a rural clergyman of the
Presbyterian Kirk, and a brother, a veteran officer on half-pay. The rank of this last
personage corresponded, however, exactly with that of his own elder brother, John Scott, who also, like the Major of the book, had
served in the Duke of York’s unfortunate campaign
of 1797; the sister is only a slender disguise for his aunt Christian Rutherfurd, already often mentioned; Lord Somerville, long President of the Board of Agriculture, was Paul’s laird; and the shrewd and unbigoted Dr Douglas of Galashiels was his “minister of the
gospel.” These epistles, after having been devoured by the little circle at
Abbotsford, were transmitted to Major John Scott, his mother and Miss Rutherfurd in
Edinburgh; from their hands they passed to those of James
Ballantyne and Mr Erskine, both of
whom assured me that the copy ultimately sent to the press consisted, in great part, of the
identical sheets that had successively reached Melrose through the post. The rest had of
course been, as Ballantyne expresses it, “somewhat
cobbled;” but, on the whole,
Paul’s Let-
PLAN OF PAUL’S LETTERS. | 353 |
But I hope that, if the reader has not perused Paul’s Letters recently, he will refresh his memory,
before he proceeds further, by bestowing an hour on that genuine fragment of the
author’s autobiography. He is now, unless he had the advantage of Scott’s personal familiarity, much better acquainted
with the man than he could have been before he took up this compilation of his private
correspondence—and especially before he perused the full diary of the lighthouse yacht in
1814; and a thousand little turns and circumstances which may have, when he originally read
the book, passed lightly before his eye, will now, I venture to say, possess a warm and
vivid interest, as inimitably characteristic of a departed friend. The kindest of husbands
and fathers never portrayed himself with more unaffected truth than in this vain effort, if
such he really fancied he was making, to sustain the character of “a cross old
bachelor.” The whole man, just as he was, breathes in every line, with all
his compassionate and benevolent sympathy of heart, all his sharpness of observation, and
sober shrewdness of reflection; all his enthusiasm for nature, for country life, for simple
manners and simple pleasures, mixed up with an equally glowing enthusiasm, at which, many
may smile, for the tiniest relics of feudal antiquity
354 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
At Brussels, Scott found the small English garrison left there in command of Major-General Sir Frederick Adam, the son of his highly valued friend, the present Lord Chief Commissioner of the Jury Court in Scotland. Sir Frederick had been wounded at Waterloo, and could not as yet mount on horseback; but one of his aides-de-camp, Captain Campbell, escorted Scott and his party to the field of battle, on which occasion they were also accompanied by another old acquaintance of his, Major Pryse Gordon, who being then on half-pay, happened to be domesticated with his family at Brussels. Major Gordon has since published two lively volumes of “Personal Memoirs;” and Gala bears witness to the fidelity of certain reminiscences of Scott at Brussels and Waterloo, which occupy one of the chapters of this work. I shall, therefore, extract the passage.
“Sir Walter
Scott accepted my services to conduct him to Waterloo: the General’s
aide-de-camp was also of the party. He made no secret of his having undertaken to write
something on the battle; and perhaps he took the greater interest on this account in every
thing that he saw. Besides, he had never seen the field of such a conflict; and never
having been before on the Continent, it was all new to his comprehensive mind. The day was
beautiful; and I had the precaution to send out a couple of saddle-horses, that he might
not be fatigued in walking over the fields, which had been recently ploughed up. In our
rounds we fell in with Monsieur de Costar, with
whom he got into conversation. This man had attracted so much notice by his pretended story
of being about the person of Napoleon, that he was of
too much importance to be passed by: I did not, indeed, know as much of this fellow’s
charlatanism at that time as afterwards, when I saw him confronted with a blacksmith of La
Belle Alliance, who had been his companion in a hiding-place ten miles from the field
during the whole day; a fact which he could not deny. But he had got up a tale so plausible
and so profitable,
BRUSSELS—ANTWERP. | 355 |
“When Sir Walter had examined every point of defence and attack, we adjourned to the ‘Original Duke of Wellington’ at Waterloo, to lunch after the fatigues of the ride. Here he had a crowded levee of peasants, and collected a great many trophies, from cuirasses down to buttons and bullets. He picked up himself many little relics, and was fortunate in purchasing a grand cross of the legion of honour. But the most precious memorial was presented to him by my wife—a French soldier’s book, well stained with blood, and containing some songs popular in the French army, which he found so interesting that he introduced versions of them in his Paul’s Letters;’ of which he did me the honour to send me a copy, with a letter, saying, ‘that he considered my wife’s gift as the most valuable of all his Waterloo relics.’
“On our return from the field, he kindly passed the evening with us, and a few friends whom we invited to meet him. He charmed us with his delightful conversation, and was in great spirits from the agreeable day he had passed; and with great good-humour promised to write a stanza in my wife’s album. On the following morning he fulfilled his promise by contributing some beautiful verses on Hougoumont. I put him into my little library to prevent interruption, as a great many persons had paraded in the Pare opposite my window to get a peep of the celebrated man, many having dogged him from his hotel.
“Brussels affords but little worthy of the notice of such a traveller as the Author of ‘Waverley;’ but he greatly admired the splendid tower of the Maison de Ville, and the ancient sculpture and style of architecture of the buildings which surround the Grand Place.
“He told us, with great humour, a laughable
incident which had occurred to him at Antwerp. The morning after his arrival at that
356 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
The following is the letter which Scott addressed to the Duke of Buccleuch, immediately after seeing the field of Waterloo; and it may amuse the reader to compare it with Major Gordon’s chapter, and with the writer’s own fuller, and, of course, “cobbled” detail, in the pages of Paul:—
“I promised to let you hear of my wanderings, however unimportant; and have now the pleasure of informing your Grace, that I am at this present time an inhabitant of the Premier Hotel de Cambrai, after having been about a week upon the Continent. We landed at Helvoet, and proceeded to Brussels, by Ber-
* Mechlin—the Highlander gave it the familiar pronunciation of a Scotch village, Mauchline, celebrated in many of Burns’s poems. † See Major Gordon’s Personal Memoirs, (1830), vol. ii. pp. 325-338. |
LETTER ON THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. | 357 |
“On Wednesday last, I rode over the field of
Waterloo, now for ever consecrated to immortality. The more ghastly tokens of
the carnage are now removed, the bodies both of men and horses being either
burned or buried; but all the ground is still torn with the shot and shells,
and covered with cartridges, old hats, and shoes, and various relics of the
fray which the peasants have not thought worth removing. Besides, at Waterloo
and all the hamlets in the vicinage, there is a mart established for cuirasses;
for the eagles worn by the imperial guard on their caps; for casques, swords,
carabines, and similar articles. I have bought two handsome cuirasses, and
intend them, one for Bowhill, and one for
358 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
BATTLE OF WATERLOO. | 359 |
360 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I spoke long with a shrewd Flemish peasant, called
John De Costar, whom he had seized
upon as his guide, and who remained beside him the whole day, and afterwards
accompanied him in his flight as far as Charleroi. Your Grace may be sure that
I interrogated Mynheer very closely about what he heard and saw. He guided me
to the spot where Buonaparte remained
during the latter part of the action. It was in the highway from Brussels to
Charleroi, where it runs between two high banks, on each of which was a French
battery. He was pretty well sheltered from the English fire; and, though many
bullets flew over his head, neither he nor any of his suite were touched. His
other stations, during that day, were still more remote from all danger. The
story of his having an observatory erected for him is a mistake. There is such
a thing, and he repaired to it during the action; but it was built or erected
some months before, for the purpose of a trigonometrical survey of the country,
by
BATTLE OF WATERLOO. | 361 |
362 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“12th August, Roye, in
Picardy.—I imagine your Grace about this time to be tolerably well
fagged with a hard day on the moors. If the weather has been as propitious as
with us, it must be delightful. The country through which we have travelled is
most uncommonly fertile, and skirted with beautiful woods; but its present
political situation is so very uncommon, that I would give the world your Grace
had come over for a fortnight. France may be considered as neither at peace or
war. Valenciennes, for example, is in a state of blockade; we passed through
the posts of the allies, all in the utmost state of vigilance, with patroles of
cavalry, and videttes of infantry, up to the very gates, and two or three
batteries were manned and mounted. The French troops were equally vigilant at
the gates, yet made no objections to our passing through the town. Most of them
had the white cockade, but looked very sulky, and were in obvious disorder and
confusion. They had not yet made their terms with the King, nor accepted a
com-
LETTER TO THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCH—AUG. 1815. | 363 |
364 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“This is a long stupid letter, but I will endeavour to send a better from Paris. Ever your Grace’s truly obliged,
The only letter which Scott addressed to Joanna Baillie, while in Paris, goes over partly the same ground:—I transcribe the rest.
“I owe you a long letter, but my late travels and the date of this epistle will be a tolerable plea for your indulgence. The truth is, I became very restless after the battle of Waterloo, and was only detained by the necessity of attending a friend’s marriage from setting off instantly for the Continent. At length, however, I got away to Brussels, and was on the memorable field of battle about five weeks after it had been fought. . . .
“If our army had been all British, the day would
have been soon decided; but the Duke, or,
as they call him here, from his detestation of all manner of foppery, the Beau, had not above 35,000 British. All this was to
PARIS—AUG.—SEPT. 1815. | 365 |
“The fate of the French, after this day of decisive
appeal, has been severe enough. There were never people more mortified, more
subdued, and apparently more broken in spirit. They submit with sad civility to
the extortions of the Prussians and the Russians, and avenge themselves at the
expense of the English, whom they charge three prices for everything, because
they are the only people who pay at all. They are in the right, however, to
enforce discipline and good order, which not only maintains the national
character in the mean time, but will prevent the army from suffering by habits
of indulgence. I question if the Prussians will soon regain their discipline
and habits of hardihood. At present their powers of eating and drinking, which
are really something preternatural, are exerted to the very utmost. A thin
Prussian boy, whom I sometimes see, eats in one day as much as three English
ploughmen. At daybreak he roars for chocolate and eggs; about nine he
breakfasts more solemnly à la
fourchette, when, besides all the usual apparatus of an
English déjeuner, he eats a
world of cutlets, oysters, fruit, &c., and drinks a glass of brandy and a
bottle of champagne. His dinner might serve Garagantua, at which he gets himself about three parts drunk—a
circumstance which does not prevent the charge upon
366 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“The needless wreck and ruin which they make in the
houses, adds much to the inconvenience of their presence, Most of the chateaux,
where the Prussians are quartered, are what is technically called rumped, that is to say, plundered out and out. In the
fine chateau of Montmorency, for instance, the most splendid apartments, highly
ornamented with gilding and carving, were converted into barracks for the
dirtiest and most savage-looking hussars I have yet seen. Imagine the work
these fellows make with velvet hangings and embroidery. I saw one hag boiling
her camp-kettle with part of a picture frame; the picture Itself has probably
gone to Prussia. With all this greediness and love of mischief, the Prussians
are not blood-thirsty; and their utmost violence seldom exceeds a blow or two
with the flat of the sabre. They are also very civil to the women, and in both
respects behave much better than the French did in their country; but they
follow the bad example quite close enough for the sake of humanity and of
discipline. As for our people, they live in a most orderly and regular manner.
All the young men pique themselves on imitating the Duke of Wellington in non-chalance and
coolness of manner; so they wander about every where, with their hands in the
pockets of their long waistcoats, or cantering upon Cossack ponies, staring and
whistling, and trotting to and fro, as if all Paris was theirs. The French hate
LETTER TO MISS BAILLIE—PARIS, 1815. | 367 |
“This morning I saw a grand military
spectacle,—about 20,000 Russians pass in review before all the Kings and
Dominations who are now resident at Paris. The Emperor, King of Prussia,
Duke of Wellington, with their numerous
and brilliant attendance of generals, staff-officers, &c., were in the
centre of what is called the Place Louis Quinze, almost on the very spot where
Louis XVI. was beheaded. A very long
avenue, which faces the station where they were placed, was like a glowing
furnace, so fiercely were the sunbeams reflected from the arms of the host by
which it was filled. A body of Cossacks kept the ground with their pikes, and,
by their wild appearance, added to the singularity of the scene. On one hand
was the extended line of the Tuileries, seen through the gardens and the rows
of orange trees; on the other, the long column of troops advancing to the
music. Behind was a long colonnade, forming the front to the palace, where the
Chamber of Representatives are to hold their sittings; and in front of the
monarchs was a superb row of buildings, on which you distinguish the bronze
pillar erected by Napoleon to commemorate
his victories over Russia, Prussia, and Austria, whose princes were now
reviewing their victorious armies in what was so lately his capital. Your
fancy, my dear friend, will anticipate, better than I can express, the thousand
sentiments which arose in my mind from witnessing such a splendid scene, in a
spot connected with such various associations. It may give you some idea of the
feelings of the French—once so fond of spectacles—to
know that, I think, there were not a hundred of that nation looking on. Yet
this
368 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Paul” modestly
acknowledges, in his last letter, the personal attentions which he received while in Paris,
from Lords Cathcart, Aberdeen, and Castlereagh; and hints
that, through their intervention, he had witnessed several of the splendid fêtes given by the Duke
of Wellington, where he saw half the crowned heads of Europe grouped among
the gallant soldiers who had cut a way for them to the guilty capital of France. Scott’s reception, however, had been distinguished to a
degree of which Paul’s language gives no notion.
The noble lords above-named welcomed him with cordial satisfaction; and the Duke
of Wellington, to whom he was first presented by Sir John Malcolm, treated him then, and ever afterwards, with a kindness
and confidence, which, I have often heard him say, he considered as “the highest
dis-
PARIS—1815. | 369 |
* Scott acknowledges, in a note to St Ronan’s Well (vol. i., p. 252), that he took from Platoff this portrait of Mr Touchwood:—“His face, which at the distance of a yard or two seemed hale and smooth, appeared, when closely examined, to be seamed with a million of wrinkles, crossing each other in every direction possible, but as fine as if drawn by the point of a very fine needle.” Thus did every little peculiarity remain treasured in his memory, to be used in due time for giving the air of minute reality to some imaginary personage. |
370 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
It will seem less surprising that Scott should have been honoured with much attention by the leading soldiers and statesmen of Germany then in Paris. The fame of his poetry had already been established for some years in that country. Yet it may be doubted whether Blücher had heard of Marmion any more than Platoff; and old Blucher struck Scott’s fellow-travellers as taking more interest in him than any foreign general, except only the Hetman.
A striking passage in Paul’s tenth letter indicates the high notion which Scott had formed of the personal qualities of the Prince of Orange. After depicting, with almost prophetic accuracy, the dangers to which the then recent union of Holland and Belgium must be exposed, he concludes with expressing his hope that the firmness and sagacity of the King of the Netherlands, and the admiration which his heir’s character and bearing had already excited among all, even Belgian observers, might ultimately prove effective in redeeming this difficult experiment from the usual failure of “arrondissements, indemnities, and all the other terms of modern date, under sanction of which cities and districts, and even kingdoms, have been passed from one government to another, as the property of lands or stock is transferred by a bargain between private parties.”
It is not less curious to compare, with the subsequent
PARIS—1815. | 371 |
Among the gay parties of this festive period, Scott mentioned with special pleasure one fine day given to an excursion to Ermenonville, under the auspices of Lady Castlereagh. The company was a large one, including most of the distinguished personages whom I have been naming, and they dined al fresco among the scenes of Rousseau’s retirement, but in a fashion less accordant with the spirit of his rêveries d’un promeneur solitaire, than with the song which commemorates some earlier tenants of that delicious valley—
“La belle Gabrielle Etoit dans ces lieux— Et le souvenir d’elle Nous rend heureux,” &c. |
At some stage of this merry day’s proceedings, the ladies got
tired of walking, and one of Lord Castlereagh’s
young diplomatists was despatched into a village in quest of donkeys for their
accommodation. The attaché returned by and
by with a face of disappointment, complaining that the charge the people made was so
extravagant, he could not think of yielding to the extortion. “Marshal Forwards” said nothing, but nodded to an aid-de-camp. They had
passed a Prussian picket a little while before;—three times the requisite number of donkeys
appeared presently, driven before half a dozen
372 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Another evening of more peaceful enjoyment has left a better record. But I need not quote here the “Lines on St Cloud.”* They were sent, on the 16th of August, to the late Lady Alvanley, with whom and her daughters he spent much of his time while in Paris.
As yet, the literary reputation of Scott had made but little way among the French nation; but some few of their eminent men vied even with the enthusiastic Germans in their courteous and unwearied attentions to him. The venerable Chevalier, in particular, seemed anxious to embrace every opportunity of acting as his Cicerone; and many mornings were spent in exploring, under his guidance, the most remarkable scenes and objects of historical and antiquarian interest both in Paris and its neighbourhood. He several times also entertained Scott and his young companions at dinner; but the last of those dinners was thoroughly poisoned by a preliminary circumstance. The poet, on entering the saloon, was presented to a stranger, whose physiognomy struck him as the most hideous he had ever seen; nor was his disgust lessened, when he found, a few minutes afterwards, that he had undergone the accollade of David “of the blood-stained brush.”
From Paris, Mr Bruce and Mr Pringle went on to Switzerland, leaving the poet and Gala to return home together, which they did by way of Dieppe, Brighton, and London. It was here, on the 14th of September,
* See Poetical Works, vol. xi. p. 295. |
PARIS—LONDON—1815. | 373 |
Matthews accompanied them as far as Warwick and
Kenilworth, both of which castles the poet had seen before, but now re-examined with
particular curiosity. They spent a night on this occasion at Birmingham; and early next
morning Scott sallied forth to provide himself with a
planter’s knife of the most complex contrivance and finished workmanship. Having
secured one to his mind, and which for many years after was his constant pocket-companion,
he wrote his name on a card, “Walter Scott, Abbotsford,”
and directed it to be engraved on the handle. On his mentioning this acquisition at
breakfast, young Gala expressed his desire to equip
himself in like fashion, and was directed to the shop accordingly. When he had purchased a
similar knife, and produced his name in turn for the engraver, the master cutler eyed the
signature for a mo-
374 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Their next halt was at Rokeby; but since Scott had heard from thence, Mrs Morritt’s illness had made such alarming progress, that the travellers regretted having obtruded themselves on the scene of affliction, and resumed their journey early next morning.
Reaching Abbotsford, Scott found
with his family his old friend Mr Skene of Rubislaw,
who had expected him to come home sooner, and James
Ballantyne, who had arrived with a copious budget of bills, calendars,
booksellers’ letters, and proof-sheets. From each of these visiters’ memoranda I now extract an anecdote. Mr
Skene’s is of a small enough matter, but still it places the man so
completely before myself, that I am glad he thought it worth setting down. “During
Scott’s absence,” says his friend, “his
wife had had the tiny drawingroom of the cottage fitted up with new chintz furniture—every
thing had been set out in the best style—and she and her girls had been looking forward to
the pleasure which they supposed the little surprise of the arrangements would give him. He
was received in the spruce fresh room, set himself comfortably down in the chair prepared
for him, and remained in the full enjoyment of his own fireside, and a return to his family
circle, without the least consciousness that any change had taken place—until, at length,
Mrs Scott’s patience could hold out no longer,
and his attention was expressly call-
RETURN TO ABBOTSFORD—SEPT. 1815. | 375 |
Ballantyne’s note of their next
morning’s conference is in these terms. “He had just been reviewing a
pageant of emperors and kings, which seemed, like another Field of the Cloth of Gold,
to have been got up to realize before his eyes some of his own splendid descriptions. I
begged him to tell me what was the general impression left on his mind. He answered,
that he might now say he had seen and conversed with all classes of society, from the
palace to the cottage, and including every conceivable shade of science and
ignorance—but that he had never felt awed or abashed except in the presence of one
man—the Duke of Wellington. I expressed some
surprise. He said I ought not, for that the Duke of Wellington
possessed every one mighty quality of the mind in a higher degree than any other man
did, or had ever done. He said he beheld in him a great soldier and a great
statesman—the greatest of each. When it was suggested that the Duke, on his part, saw
before him a great poet and novelist, he smiled, and said, ‘What would the
Duke of Wellington think of a few bits
of novels, which perhaps he had never read, and for which the strong
probability is that he would not care a sixpence if he had?’ You are
not” (adds Ballantyne) “to suppose that he
looked either sheepish or embarrassed in the presence of the Duke—indeed you well know
that he did not, and could not do so; but the feeling, qualified and modified as I have
described it, unquestionably did exist to a certain extent. Its origin forms a curious
moral problem; and may probably be traced to a secret consciousness, which he might not
himself
376 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
It is proper to add to Mr Ballantyne’s solution of his “curious moral problem,” that he was, in his latter days, a strenuous opponent of the Duke of Wellington’s politics; to which circumstance he ascribes, in these same memoranda, the only coolness that ever occurred between him and Scott. I need hardly repeat, what has been already distinctly stated more than once, that Scott never considered any amount of literary distinction as entitled to be spoken of in the same breath with mastery in the higher departments of practical life least of all, with the glory of a first-rate captain. To have done things worthy to be written, was in his eyes a dignity to which no man made any approach, who had only written things worthy to be read. He on two occasions, which I can never forget, betrayed painful uneasiness when his works were alluded to as reflecting honour on the age that had produced Watt’s improvement of the steam-engine, and the safety-lamp of Sir Humphry Davy. Such was his modest creed—but from all I ever saw or heard of his intercourse with the Duke of Wellington, I am not disposed to believe that he partook it with the only man in whose presence he ever felt awe and abashment.*
* I think it very probable that Scott had his own first interview with the Duke of Wellington in his mind when he described the introduction of Roland Graham to the Regent Murray, in the novel of The Abbot: “Such was the personage before whom Roland Graham now presented himself with a feeling of breathless awe, very different from the usual boldness and vivacity of his temper. In fact he was, from education and nature, much more easily controlled by the moral superiority arising from the elevated talents and |
RETURN TO ABBOTSFORD—SEPT. 1815. | 377 |
A charming page in Mr Washington Irving’s “Abbotsford and Newstead,” affords us another anecdote connected with this return from Paris. Two years after this time, when the amiable American visited Scott, he walked with him to a quarry, where his people were at work. “The face of the humblest dependant” (he says) “brightened at his approach—all paused from their labour, to have a pleasant ‘crack wi’ the laird.’ Among the rest was a tall straight old fellow, with a healthful complexion and silver hairs, and a small round-crowned white hat. He had been about to shoulder a hod, but paused, and stood looking at Scott with a slight sparkling of his blue eye, as if waiting his turn; for the old fellow knew he was a favourite. Scott accosted him in an affable tone, and asked for a pinch of snuff. The old man drew forth a horn snuff-box. ‘Hoot, man,’ said Scott, ‘not that old mull. Where’s the bonnie French one that I brought you from Paris?’—‘Troth, your honour,’ replied the old fellow, ‘sic a mull as that is nae for week-days.’ On leaving the quarry, Scott informed me, that, when absent at Paris, he had purchased several trifling articles as presents for his dependants, and, among others, the gay snuff-box in question, which was so carefully reserved for Sundays by the veteran. ‘It was not so much the value of the gifts,’ said he, ‘that pleased them, as the idea that the laird should think of them when so far away.’”
One more incident of this return—it was told to me
renown of those with whom he conversed, than by pretensions founded only on rank or external show. He might have braved with indifference the presence of an Earl merely distinguished by his belt and coronet; but he felt overawed in that of the eminent soldier and statesman, the wielder of a nation’s power, and the leader of her armies.” Waverley Novels, vol. xx., p. 292. |
378 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
ABBOTSFORD—OCTOBER, 1815. | 379 |
A few letters, written shortly after this return to Abbotsford, will, among other things, show with what zeal he at once resumed his literary industry, if indeed that can be said to have been at all interrupted by a journey, in the course of which a great part of Paul’s narrative, and also of the poem of “the Field of Waterloo,” must have been composed.
“Few things could have given me more real pain,
than to see Mrs Morritt under such
severe suffering, and the misery you sustain in witnessing it. Yet let us trust
in the goodness of Providence, which restored the health so deservedly dear to
you from as great a state of depression upon a former occasion. Our visit was
indeed a melancholy one, and, I fear, added to your distress, when, God knows,
it required no addition. The contrast of this quiet bird’s nest of a
place, with the late scene of confusion and military splendour which I have
witnessed, is something of a stunning nature, and, for the first five or six
days, I have been content to fold my hands, and saunter up and down in a sort
of indolent and stupified tranquillity, my only attempt at occupation having
gone no farther than pruning a young tree now and then. Yesterday, however, and
to-day, I began, from necessity, to prune verses, and have been correcting
proofs of my little attempt at a poem on
Waterloo. It will be out this week, and you shall have a copy by the
Carlisle coach, which pray judge favourably, and
380 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“We visited Corby Castle on our return to Scotland,
which remains, in point of situation, as beautiful as when its walks were
celebrated by David Hume, in the only
rhymes he was ever known to be guilty of. Here they are, from a pane of glass
in an inn at Carlisle:
LETTER TO MORRITT—1815. | 381 |
‘Here chicks in eggs for breakfast sprawl, Here godless boys God’s glories squall, Here Scotchmen’s heads do guard the wall, But Corby’s walks atone for all.’ |
“I do not know whether it is perverseness of taste, or old associations, but an excellent and very handsome modern house, which Mr Howard has lately built at Corby, does not, in my mind, assimilate so well with the scenery as the old irregular monastic hall, with its weatherbeaten and antique appearance, which I remember there some years ago.
“Out of my Field of Waterloo has sprung an odd wild sort of thing, which I intend to finish separately, and call it the Dance of Death.* These matters take up my time so much, that I must bid you adieu for the present. Besides, I am summoned to attend a grand chasse, and I see the children are all mounted upon the
* This was published in the Edinburgh Annual Register in 1815.—See Poetical Works, Ed. 1834, vol. xi. p. 297. |
382 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
I shall close this chapter with a transcript of some Notes on the proof sheets of the “Field of Waterloo.” John Ballantyne being at Abbotsford on the 3d of October, his brother the printer addressed the packet containing the sheets to him. John appears to have considered James’s observations on the margin before Scott saw them; and the record of the style in which the Poet repelled, or yielded to, his critics, will at all events illustrate his habitual good-nature.
John Ballantyne writes on the fly-leaf of the proofs to his confidential clerk:—“Mr Hodgson, I beg these sheets and all the MS. may be carefully preserved just as they stand, and put in my father’s desk. J. B.”
James prefaces his animadversions with this quotation:—
“Cut deep and spare not.—Penruddock” |
The Notes are these:—
Stanza I.—“Fair Brussells, them art far
behind.”
|
James Ballantyne.—I do not like this line. It is tame, and the phrase “far behind,” has, to my feeling, some associated vulgarity.
Scott.—Stet.
Stanza II. “Let not the
stranger with disdain
The architecture view.”
|
James.—These two words are cacophonous. Would not its do?’
Scott.—Th. is a bad sound. Ts. a much worse. Read their.
Stanza IV. “A stranger might reply.”
|
James.—My objection to this is probably fantastical, and I state it only, because from the first moment to the last, it has always made me boggle. I don’t like a stranger—Query, “The questioned”—The “spectator”—“gazer,” &c.
Scott.—Stranger is appropriate—it means stranger to the circumstances.
NOTES ON THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. | 383 |
Stanza VI.—James.—You had changed “garner-house profound,” which I think quite admirable, to “garner under ground,” which I think quite otherways. I have presumed not to make the change—must I?
Scott.—I acquiesce, but with doubts; profound sounds affected.
Stanza VIII.—“The deadly tug of war at length
Must limits find in human strength,
And cease when these are passed.
Vain hope! &c.”
|
James.—I must needs repeat, that the deadly tug did cease in the case supposed. It lasted long very long; but, when the limits of resistance, of human strength were past that is, after they had fought for ten hours, then the deadly tug did cease. Therefore the “hope” was not “vain.”
Scott.—I answer it did not, because the observation relates to the strength of those actually engaged, and when their strength was exhausted other squadrons were brought up. Suppose you saw two lawyers scolding at the bar, you might say this must have an end—human lungs cannot hold out—but, if the debate were continued by the senior counsel, your well-grounded expectations would be disappointed—“Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull!”—
Ibid.—“Nor ceased the intermitted shot.”
|
James.—Mr Erskine contends that “intermitted” is redundant.
Scott.—“Nor ceased the storm of shell and shot.”
Stanza X. “Never shall our country say
We gave one inch of ground away,
When battling for her right.”
|
James.—In conflict?
John B.—Warring? I am afraid battling must stand.
Scott.—All worse than the text.
Stanza XI.—“Peal’d wildly the imperial
name.”
|
James.—I submit with diffidence whether this be not a somewhat tame conclusion to so very animated a stanza? And, at any rate, you will observe, that as it stands, you have no rhyme whatever to “The Cohort eagles fly.”—You have no rhyme to fly. Flew and fly, also, are perhaps too near, considering that each word closes a line of the same sort. I don’t well like “Thus in a torrent,” either. If it were, “In one broad torrent,” &c., it strikes me that it would be more spirited.
384 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
Scott.—Granted as to most of these observations Read, “in one dark torrent broad and strong,” &c. The “imperial name” is true, therefore must stand.
Stanza XII.—“Nor was one forward footstep stopped.”
|
James.—This staggering word was intended, I presume, but I don’t like it.
Scott.—Granted. Read staid, &c.
Ibid.—“Down were the eagle banners sent,
Down, down the horse and horsemen went.”
|
James.—This is very spirited and very fine; but it is unquestionably liable to the charge of being very nearly a direct repetition of yourself. See Lord of the Isles, Canto vi. St. 24:—
“Down! down! in headlong overthrow,
Horseman and horse, the foremost go,” &c.
|
This passage is at once so striking and so recent, that its close similarity to the present, if not indeed its identity, must strike every reader; and really, to borrow from one’s self, is hardly much better than to borrow from one’s neighbours. And yet again, a few lines lower:
“As hammers on the anvils reel, Against the cuirass clangs the steel.” |
“I heard the broadswords’ deadly clang, As if an hundred anvils rang.” |
Scott.—I have altered the expression, but made a note, which, I think, will vindicate my retaining the simile.
Stanza XIII.—“As their own Ocean-rocks hold stance.”
|
John.—I do not know such an English word as stance.
Scott.—Then we’ll make it one for the nance.
Ibid.—“And newer standards
fly.”
|
James.—I don’t like newer.
Scott.—“And other standards fly.”
Ibid.—“Or can thy memory fail to quote,
Heard to thy cost the vengeful note.”
|
James.—Would to God you would alter this quote!
John.—Would to God I could!—I certainly should.—
NOTES ON THE FIELD OF WATERLOO. | 385 |
“Or can thy memory fail to know, Heard oft before in hour of wo.” |
“Or dwells not in thy memory still, Heard frequent in thine hour of ill.” |
Stanza XV.—“Wrung forth by pride, regret, and shame.”
|
James.—I have ventured to submit to your choice—
“Wrung forth by pride, and rage, and shame.”
|
Regret appearing a faint epithet amidst such a combination of bitter feelings.
Scott.—Granted.
Ibid.—“So mingle banner, wain, and gun,
Where in one tide of horror run
The warriors,” &c.
|
James.—In the first place, warriors running in a tide, is a clashing metaphor; in the second, the warriors running at all is a little homely. It is true, no doubt; but really running is little better than scampering. For these causes, one or both, I think the lines should be altered.
Scott.—You are wrong in one respect. A tide is always said to run, but I thought of the tide without attending to the equivoque, which must be altered. Read,—
“Where the tumultuous flight rolls on.” |
Stanza. XVI—“found gallant
grave.”
|
James.—This is surely a singular epithet to a grave. I think the whole of this stanza eminently fine; and, in particular, the conclusion.
Scott.— ——“found soldier’s grave.”——
James.—From long association, this epithet strikes me as conveying a semi-ludicrous idea.
Scott.—It is here appropriate, and your objection seems merely personal to your own association.
Ibid.—“Through his friend’s heart to wound his own.”
|
James.—Quaere—Pierce, or rather stab—wound is faint.
Scott.— —“Pierce.”
Stanza XXI.—“Forgive, brave
fallen, the imperfect lay.”
|
James.—Don’t like “brave fallen” at all; nor “appropriate praise,” three lines after. The latter in particular is prosaic.
Scott.—“Forgive, brave dead.”
——“The dear earned praise.”
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