| INSANITY OF HENRY WEBER. | 109 |
I have to open the year 1814 with a
melancholy story. Mention has been made, more than once, of Henry Weber, a poor German scholar, who escaping to this country in 1804,
from misfortunes in his own, excited Scott’s
compassion, and was thenceforth furnished, through his means, with literary employment of
various sorts. Weber was a man of considerable learning; but
Scott, as was his custom, appears to have formed an exaggerated
notion of his capacity, and certainly countenanced him, to his own severe cost, in several
most unfortunate undertakings. When not engaged on things of a more ambitious character, he
had acted for ten years as his protector’s amanuensis, and when the family were in
Edinburgh, he very often dined with them. There was something very interesting in his
appearance and manners; he had a fair, open countenance, in which the honesty and the
enthusiasm of his nation were alike visible; his demeanour was gentle and modest; and he
had not only a stock of curious antiquarian knowledge, but the reminiscences, which he
detailed with amusing
| 110 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
They had, however, parted kindly when Scott left Edinburgh at Christmas 1813,—and the day after his return
Weber attended him as usual in his library,
being employed in transcribing extracts during several hours, while his friend, seated over
against him, continued working at the Life of Swift.
The light beginning to fail, Scott threw himself back in his chair,
and was about to ring for candles, when he observed the German’s eyes fixed upon him
with an unusual solemnity of expression. “Weber,”
said he, “what’s the matter with you?” “Mr
Scott,” said Weber rising, “you
have long insulted me, and I can bear it no longer. I have brought a pair of pistols
with me, and must insist on your taking one of them instantly;” and with that
he produced the weapons, which had been deposited under his chair, and laid one of them on
Scott’s manuscript. “You are mistaken, I
think,” said Scott, “in your way of setting about
this affair—but no matter. It can, however, be no part of your object to annoy
Mrs Scott and the children; therefore, if you
please, we will put the pistols into the drawer till after dinner, and then arrange to
go out together like gentlemen.” Weber answered with
equal coolness, “I believe that will be better,”
| HENRY WEBER. | 111 |
The reader will now appreciate the gentle delicacy of the following letter:—
| 112 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I have postponed writing a long while, in hopes to send you the Life of Swift. But I have been delayed by an odd accident. Poor Weber, whom you may have heard me mention as a sort of grinder of mine, who assisted me in various ways, has fallen into a melancholy state. His habits, like those of most German students, were always too convivial—this, of course, I guarded against while he was in my house, which was always once a-week at least; but unfortunately he undertook a long walk through the Highlands of upwards of 2000 miles, and, I suppose, took potations pottle deep to support him through the fatigue. His mind became accordingly quite unsettled, and after some strange behaviour here, he was fortunately prevailed upon to go to * * * * who resides in Yorkshire. It is not unlikely, from something that dropped from him, that he may take it into his head to call at Rokeby, in which case you must parry any visit, upon the score of Mrs Morritt’s health. If he were what he used to be, you would be much pleased with him; for besides a very extensive general acquaintance with literature, he was particularly deep in our old dramatic lore, a good modern linguist, a tolerable draughtsman and antiquary, and a most excellent hydrographer. I have not the least doubt that if he submits to the proper regimen of abstinence and moderate exercise, he will be quite well in a few weeks or days—if not, it is miserable to think what may happen. The being suddenly deprived of his services in this melancholy way, has flung me back at least a month with Swift, and left me no time to write to my friends, for all my memoranda, &c. were in his hands, and had to be new-modelled, &c. &c.
| LETTER TO MR MORRIT—JANUARY, 1814. | 113 |
“Our glorious prospects on the Continent called forth the congratulations of the City of Edinburgh amongothers. The Magistrates asked me to draw their address, which was presented by the Lord Provost in person, who happens to be a gentleman of birth and fortune.* The Prince said some very handsome things respecting the address, with which the Magistrates were so much elated, that they have done the genteel thing (as Winifred Jenkins says) by their literary adviser, and presented me with the freedom of the city, and a handsome piece of plate. I got the freedom at the same time with Lord Dalhousie and Sir Thomas Graham, and the Provost gave a very brilliant entertainment. About 150 gentlemen dined at his own house, all as well served as if there had been a dozen. So if one strikes a cuff on the one side from ill-will, there is a pat on the other from kindness, and the shuttlecock is kept flying. To poor Charlotte’s great horror, I chose my plate in the form of an old English tankard, an utensil for which I have a particular respect, especially when charged with good ale, cup, or any of those potables. I hope you will soon see mine.†
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* The late Sir John Marjoribanks of Lees, Bart. † The inscription for this tankard was penned by the late celebrated Dr James Gregory, Professor of the Practice of Physic in the University of Edinburgh; and I therefore transcribe it.
|
| 114 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Your little friends, Sophia and Walter, were at a magnificent party on Twelfth Night at Dalkeith, where the Duke and Duchess entertained all Edinburgh. I think they have dreamed of nothing since but Aladdin’s lamp and the palace of Haroun Alraschid. I am uncertain what to do this spring. I would fain go on the Continent for three or four weeks, if it be then safe for noncombatants. If not, we will have a merry meeting in London, and, like Master Silence,
‘Eat, drink, and make good cheer, And thank heaven for the merry year.’ |
The last of Weber’s
literary productions were the analyses of the old German Poems of the Helden Buch, and the Nibelungen Lied, which appeared in a massive quarto,
entitled Illustrations of Northern
Antiquities, published in the summer of 1814, by his and Scott’s friend, Mr Robert
Jameson. Scott avowedly contributed to this collection
an account of the Eyrbiggia Saga, which has since been included
in his Prose Miscellanies (Vol. V.,
edition 1834); but any one who examines the share of the work which goes under
Weber’s name, will see that Scott had a
considerable hand in that also. The rhymed versions from the Nibelungen
Lied came, I can have no doubt, from his pen; but he never reclaimed these, or
any other similar benefactions,
| FIRST ABDICATION OF NAPOLEON. | 115 |
The following letters, on the first abdication of Napoleon, are too characteristic to be omitted here. I need not remind the reader how greatly Scott had calmed his opinions, and softened his feelings, respecting the career and fate of the most extraordinary man of our age, before he undertook to write his history.
“‘Joy—joy in London now!’—and in
Edinburgh, moreover, my dear Morritt;
for never did you or I see, and never again shall we see, according to all
human prospects, a consummation so truly glorious, as now bids fair to conclude
this long and eventful war. It is startling to think that, but for the
preternatural presumption and hardness of heart displayed by the arch-enemy of
mankind, we should have had a hollow and ominous truce with him, instead of a
glorious and stable peace with the country over which he tyrannized, and its
lawful ruler. But Providence had its own wise purposes to answer—and such was
the deference of France to the ruling power—so devoutly did they worship the
Devil for possession of his burning throne, that, it may be, nothing short of
his rejection of every fair and advantageous offer of peace could have driven
them to those acts of resistance which remembrance of former convulsions had
rendered so fearful to them. Thank God! it is done at last: and—although I
rather grudge him even the mouthful of air which he may draw in the Isle of
Elba
| 116 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
| LETTER TO MORRITT—APRIL, 1814. | 117 |
“I have a letter from Southey, in high spirits on the glorious news. What a pity this last battle† was fought. But I am glad the rascals were beaten once more. Ever yours,
|
* A good many French officers, prisoners of war, had been living on parole in Melrose, and the adjoining villages; and Mr and Mrs Scott had been particularly kind and hospitable to them. † The battle of Thoulouse. |
| 118 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I suspended writing to thank you for the Carmen Triumphale—(a happy
omen of what you can do to immortalize our public story)—until the feverish
mood of expectation and anxiety should be over. And then, as you truly say,
there followed a stunning sort of listless astonishment and complication of
feeling, which if it did not lessen enjoyment, confused and confounded
one’s sense of it. I remember the first time I happened to see a launch,
I was neither so much struck with the descent of the vessel, nor with its
majestic sweep to its moorings, as with the blank which was suddenly made from
the withdrawing so large an object, and the prospect which was at once opened
to the opposite side of the dock crowded with spectators. Buonaparte’s fall strikes me something in
the same way; the huge bulk of his power, against which a thousand arms were
hammering, was obviously to sink when its main props were struck away—and yet
now—when it has disappeared—the vacancy which it leaves in our minds and
attention, marks its huge and preponderating importance more strongly than even
its presence. Yet I so devoutly expected the termination, that in discussing
the matter with Major Philips, who seemed to partake of
the doubts which prevailed during the feverish period preceding the capture of
Paris, when he was expressing his apprehensions that the capital of France
would be defended to the last, I hazarded a prophecy that a battle would be
fought on the heights of Mont Martre—(no great saga-city, since it was the
point where Marlborough proposed to attack, and for which Saxe projected a
scheme of defence)—and that if the allies were successful, which I little
doubted, the city would surrender, and the
| LETTER TO SOUTHEY—JUNE, 1814. | 119 |
| 120 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“—The above was written at Abbotsford last month, but left in my portfolio there till my return some days ago; and now, when I look over what I have written, I am confirmed in my opinion that we have given the rascals too good an opportunity to boast that they have got well off. An intimate friend of mine,* just returned from a long captivity in France, witnessed the entry of the King, guarded by the Imperial Guards, whose countenances betokened the most sullen and ferocious discontent. The mob, and especially the women, pelted them for refusing to cry ‘Vive le Roi.’ If Louis is well advised, he will get rid of these fellows gradually, but as soon as possible. ‘Joy, joy in London now!’ What a scene has been going on there; I think you may see the Czar appear on the top of one of your stages one morning. He is a fine fellow, and has fought the good fight. Yours affectionately,
On the 1st of July, 1814, Scott’s Life and Edition of Swift, in nineteen volumes 8vo, at length issued from the press. This adventure, undertaken by Constable in 1808, had been proceeded in during all the variety of their personal relations, and now came forth when author and publisher felt more warmly towards each other than perhaps they had ever before done. The impression was of 1250 copies; and a reprint of similar extent was
* Sir Adam Ferguson, who had been taken prisoner in the course of the Duke of Wellington’s retreat from Burgos. |
| EDITION OF SWIFT PUBLISHED—JULY, 1814. | 121 |
By his industrious enquiries, in which, as the preface gratefully acknowledges, he found many zealous assistants, especially among the Irish literati,* Scott added to this edition many admirable pieces, both in prose and verse, which had never before been printed, and still more which had escaped notice amidst old bundles of pamphlets and broadsides. To the illustration of these and of all the better known writings of the Dean, he brought the same qualifications which had, by general consent, distinguished his Dryden, “uniting,” as the Edinburgh Review expresses it, “to the minute knowledge and patient research of the Malones and Chalmerses, a vigour of judgment, and a vivacity of style to which they had no pretensions.” His biographical narrative, introductory essays, and notes on Swift, show, indeed, an intimacy of acquaintance with the obscurest details of the political, social, and literary history of the period of Queen Anne, which it is impossible to consider without feeling a lively regret that he never accomplished a long cherished purpose of preparing a Life and Edition of Pope on a similar scale. It has been specially unfortunate for that “true deacon of the craft,” as Scott often called Pope, that first Goldsmith, and then Scott should have taken up, only to abandon it, the project of writing his life and editing his works.
The Edinburgh Reviewer thus characterises Scott’s Memoir of the Dean of St Patrick’s:
|
* The names which he particularly mentions, are those of the late Matthew Weld Hartstonge, Esq., of Dublin, Theophilus Swift, Esq., Major Tickell, Thomas Steele, Esq., Leonard Macnally, Esq., and the Rev. M. Berwick. |
| 122 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“It is not every where extremely well written, in a literary point of view, but it is drawn up in substance with great intelligence, liberality, and good feeling. It is quite fair and moderate in politics; and perhaps rather too indulgent and tender towards individuals of all descriptions—more full, at least, of kindness and veneration for genius and social virtue, than of indignation at baseness and profligacy. Altogether, it is not much like the production of a mere man of letters, or a fastidious speculator in sentiment and morality; but exhibits throughout, and in a very pleasing form, the good sense and large toleration of a man of the world, with much of that generous allowance for the
‘Fears of the brave and follies of the wise,’ |
I have no desire to break a lance in this place in defence of the
personal character of Swift. It does not appear to
me that he stands at all distinguished among politicians (least of all, among the
politicians of his time) for laxity of principle; nor can I consent to charge his private
demeanour with the absence either of tenderness, or fidelity, or compassion. But who ever
dreamed—most assuredly not Scott—of holding up the Dean
of St Patrick’s as on the whole an “exemplary character?” The
biographer felt, whatever his critic may have thought on the subject, that a vein of morbid
humour ran through Swift’s whole existence, both mental and
| LIFE OF SWIFT. | 123 |
| 124 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
And this consummation was not long delayed; a considerable addition
having by that time been made to the original fragment, there appeared in The Scot’s Magazine, for February 1st, 1814,
an announcement, that “Waverley; or,
’tis Sixty Years Since, a novel, in 3 vols, 12mo,” would be
published in March. And before Scott came into
Edinburgh, at the close of the Christmas vacation on the 12th of January, Mr Erskine had perused the greater part of the first
volume, and expressed his decided opinion that Waverley would
prove the most popular of all his friend’s writings. The MS. was forthwith copied by
John Ballantyne, and sent to press. As soon as a
volume was printed, Ballantyne conveyed it to Constable, who did not for a moment doubt from what pen it
proceeded, but took a few days to consider of the matter, and then offered L.700 for the
copyright. When we recollect what the state of novel literature in those days was, and that
the only exceptions to its mediocrity, the Irish Tales of Miss
Edgeworth, however appreciated in refined circles, had a circulation so
limited that she had never realized a tithe of L.700 by the best of them—it must be allowed
that Constable’s offer was a liberal one.
Scott’s answer, however, transmitted through the same
channel, was, that L.700 was too much, in case the novel should not be successful, and too
little in case it should. He added, “If our fat friend had said L.1000, I should
have been staggered.” John did not forget to hint this
last circumstance to Constable, but the latter did not choose to
| WAVERLEY PUBLISHED—JULY, 1814. | 125 |
The two next letters will give us, in more exact detail than the author’s own recollection could supply in 1830, the history of the completion of Waverley. It was published on the 7th of July; and two days afterwards he thus writes:—
“I owe you many apologies for not sooner answering your very entertaining letter upon your Parisian journey. I heartily wish I had been of your party, for you have seen what I trust will not be seen again in a hurry; since, to enjoy the delight of a restoration, there is a necessity for a previous bouleversement of every thing that is valuable in morals and policy, which seems to have been the case in France since 1790.* The Duke
* Mr Morritt had, in the spring of this year, been present at the first levee held at the Tuileries by Monsieur, (afterwards Charles X.), |
| 126 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“Now, to go from one important subject to another, I must account for my own laziness, which I do by referring you to a small anonymous sort of a novel, in three volumes, Waverley, which you will receive by the mail of this day. It was a very old attempt of mine to embody some traits of those characters and manners peculiar to Scotland, the last remnants of which vanished during my own youth, so that few or no traces now remain. I had written great part of the first volume, and sketched other passages, when I mislaid the MS., and only found it by the merest accident as I was rummaging the drawers of an old cabinet; and I took the fancy of finishing it, which I did so fast, that the last two volumes were written in three weeks. I had a great deal of fun in the accomplishment of this task, though I do not expect that it will be popular in the south, as much of the humour, if there be any, is local, and some of it even professional. You, however, who are an adopted Scotchman, will find some amusement in it. It has made a very strong impression here, and the good people of Edinburgh are busied in tracing the author, and in finding out originals for the portraits it contains. In the first case, they will probably find it difficult to convict the guilty author, although he is far from escaping suspicion. Jeffrey has offered to make oath that it is mine, and another great critic has tendered his affidavit ex contrario; so that these authorities have divided
as representative of his brother Louis XVIII. Mr M. had not been in Paris till that time since 1789. |
| WAVERLEY—LETTER TO MORRITT. | 127 |
“P.S.—As your conscience has very few things to answer for, you must still burthen it with the secret of the Bridal. It is spreading very rapidly, and I have one or two little fairy romances, which will make a second volume, and which I would wish published, but not with my name. The truth is, that this sort of muddling work amuses me, and I am something in the condition of Joseph Surface, who was embarrassed by getting himself too good a reputation; for many things may please people well enough anonymously, which, if they have me in the title-page, would just give me that sort of ill name which precedes hanging—and that would be in many respects inconvenient if I thought of again trying a grande opus”
This statement of the foregoing letter (repeated still more precisely
in a following one), as to the time occupied in the composition of the second and third
volumes of Waverley, recalls to my memory
a trifling anecdote, which, as connected with a dear friend of my youth, whom I have not
seen for many years, and may very probably never see again in this world, I shall here set
down, in the hope of affording him a momentary, though not an unmixed pleasure, when he may
chance to read this compilation on a distant shore—and also in the hope
| 128 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
| WAVERLEY—JULY, 1814. | 129 |
In the next of these letters Scott enclosed to Mr Morritt the Prospectus of a new edition of the old poems of the Bruce and the Wallace, undertaken by the learned lexicographer, Dr John Jamieson; and he announces his departure on a sailing excursion round the north of Scotland. It will be observed, that when Scott began his letter, he had only had Mr Morritt’s opinion of the first volume of Waverley, and that before he closed it, he had received his friend’s honest criticism on the work as a whole, with the expression of an earnest hope that he would drop his incognito on the title-page of a second edition.
“I am going to say my vales to you for some weeks, having accepted an
invitation from a committee of the Commissioners for the Northern Lights (I
don’t mean the Edinburgh
Reviewers, but the bonâ
fide commissioners for the beacons), to accompany them upon
a nautical tour round Scotland, visiting all that is curious on continent and
isle. The party are three gentlemen with whom I am very well acquainted,
William Erskine being one. We have a
stout cutter, well fitted up and manned for the service by Government; and to
make assurance double sure, the admiral has sent a sloop of
| 130 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“As to Waverley, I will play Sir Fretful for once, and assure you that I left the story to flag in the first volume on purpose; the second and third have rather more bustle and interest. I wished (with what success Heaven knows) to avoid the ordinary error of novel-writers, whose first volume is usually their best. But since it has served to amuse Mrs Morritt and you usque ab initio, I have no doubt you will tolerate it even unto the end. It may really boast to be a tolerably faithful portrait of Scottish manners, and has been recognised as such in Edinburgh. The first edition of a thousand instantly disappeared, and the bookseller informs me that the second, of double the quantity, will not supply the market for long. As I shall be very anxious to know how Mrs Morritt is, I hope to have a few lines from you on my return, which will be about the end of August or beginning of September. I should have mentioned that we have the celebrated engineer, Stevenson, along with us. I delight in these professional men of talent; they always give you some new lights by the peculiarity of their habits and studies, so different from the people who are rounded, and smoothed, and ground down for conversation, and who can say all that every other person says, and—nothing more.
“What a miserable thing it is that our royal family
cannot be quiet and decent at least, if not correct and moral in their
deportment. Old farmer George’s manly
simplicity, modesty of expense, and domestic virtue,
| LETTER TO MR MORRITT—JULY, 1814. | 131 |
“—I had just proceeded thus far when your kind favour of the 21st reached Abbotsford. I am heartily glad you continued to like Waverley to the end. The hero is a sneaking piece of imbecility; and if he had married Flora, she would have set him up upon the chimney-piece, as Count Borowlaski’s wife used to do with him.* I am a bad hand at depicting a hero properly so called, and have an unfortunate propensity for the dubious characters of borderers, buccaneers, Highland robbers, and all others of a Robin-Hood description. I do not know why it should be, as I am myself, like Hamlet, indifferent honest; but I suppose the blood of the old cattle-drivers of Teviotdale continues to stir in my veins.
“I shall not own Waverley; my chief reason is, that it would prevent me of the pleasure of writing again. David Hume, nephew of the historian, says the author must be of a Jacobite family and predilections, a yeoman-cavalry man, and a Scottish lawyer, and desires me to guess in whom these happy attributes are united. I shall not plead guilty, however; and, as such seems to be the fashion of the day, I hope charitable people will
* Count Borowlaski was a Polish dwarf, who, after realizing some money as an itinerant object of exhibition, settled, married, and died at Durham. He was a well-bred creature, and much noticed by the clergy and other gentry of that city. Indeed, even when travelling the country as a show, he had always maintained a sort of dignity. I remember him as going from house to house, when I was a child, in a sedan chair, with a servant in livery following him, who took the fee—M. le Comte himself (dressed in a scarlet coat and bag wig) being ushered into the room like any ordinary visitor. |
| 132 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“I wish, for poor auld Scotland’s sake, and for the Manes of Bruce and Wallace, and for the living comfort of a very worthy and ingenious dissenting clergyman, who has collected a library and medals of some value, and brought up, I believe, sixteen or seventeen children (his wife’s ambition extended to twenty) upon about L.150 a-year—I say I wish, for all these reasons, you could get me among your wealthy friends a name or two for the enclosed proposals. The price is, I think, too high; but the booksellers fixed it two guineas above what I proposed. I trust it will be yet lowered to five guineas, which is a more comeatable sum than six. The poems themselves are great curiosities, both to the philologist and antiquary; and that of Bruce is invaluable, even to the historian. They have been hitherto wretchedly edited.
| LETTER TO MORRITT—JULY, 1814. | 133 |
“I am glad you are not to pay for this scrawl. Ever yours,
“P.S. I do not see how my silence can be considered as imposing on the public. If I give my name to a book without writing it, unquestionably that would be a trick. But, unless in the case of his averring facts which he may be called upon to defend or justify, I think an author may use his own discretion in giving or withholding his name. Harry Mackenzie never put his name in a title-page till the last edition of his works; and Swift only owned one out of his thousand and one publications. In point of emolument, every body knows that I sacrifice much money by withholding my name; and what should I gain by it, that any human being has a right to consider as an unfair advantage? In fact, only the freedom of writing trifles with less personal responsibility, and perhaps more frequently than I otherwise might do.
I am not able to give the exact date of the following reply to one of John Ballantyne’s expostulations on the subject of the secret:—
|
“No, John, I will not own the book—
I won’t, you Picaroon.
When next I try St Grubby’s brook,
The A. of Wa— shall bait the hook—
And flat-fish bite as soon,
As if before them they had got
The worn-out wriggler
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