Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott, Bart.
        Walter Scott to J. B. S. Morritt of Rokeby, 14 September 1814
        
        
          
        
        
          
        
       
      
      
      
      
     
     
    
     “Edinburgh, September 14, 1814. 
    
    
     “‘At the end of my tour on the 22d
                                    August’!!! Lord help us!—this comes of going to the Levant and the
                                    Hellespont, and your Euxine, and so forth. A poor devil who goes to Nova Zembla
                                    and Thule is treated as if he had been only walking as far as Barnard Castle or
                                    Cauldshiel’s Loch.* I would have you to know I only returned on the 10th
                                    current, and the most agreeable thing I found was your letter. I am sure you
                                    must know I had need of something pleasant, for the news of 
|  * Lord Byron
                                            writes to Mr Moore, August 3,
                                                1814:—“Oh! I nave had the most amusing letter from
                                                    Hogg, the Ettrick
                                                Minstrel and Shepherd. I think very highly of him as a poet, but he
                                                and half of these Scotch and Lake troubadours are spoilt by living
                                                in little circles and petty coteries. London and the world is the
                                                only place to take the conceit out of a man—in the milling phrase.
                                                    Scott, he says, is gone to
                                                the Orkneys in a gale of wind, during which wind, he affirms, the
                                                said Scott he is sure is not at his ease, to
                                                say the least of it. Lord! Lord! if these home-keeping minstrels
                                                had crossed your Atlantic or my Mediterranean, and tasted a little
                                                open boating in a white squall—or a gale in ‘the
                                                Gut,’—or the Bay of Biscay, with no gale at all—how it would
                                                enliven and introduce them to a few of the sensations!—to say
                                                nothing of an illicit amour or two upon shore, in the way of Essay
                                                upon the Passions, beginning with simple adultery, and compounding
                                                it as they went along.” Life and Works, vol. iii. p. 102. Lord Byron, by the
                                            way, had written on July the 24th to Mr
                                                Murray, “Waverley is the best and most
                                                interesting novel I have redde since—I don’t know
                                            when,” &c. Ibid. p. 98.  | 
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                                    ![]()
|  | LETTER TO MR MORRITT—SEPT. 14, 1814. | 291 | 
![]() the death of
                                    the beautiful, the kind, the affectionate, and generous Duchess of Buccleuch gave me a shock, which, to
                                    speak God’s truth, could not have been exceeded unless by my own
                                    family’s sustaining a similar deprivation. She was indeed a light set
                                    upon a hill, and had all the grace which the most accomplished manners and the
                                    most affable address could give to those virtues by which she was raised still
                                    higher than by rank. As she always distinguished me by her regard and
                                    confidence, and as I had many opportunities of seeing her in the active
                                    discharge of duties in which she rather resembled a descended angel than an
                                    earthly being, you will excuse my saying so much about my own feelings on an
                                    occasion where sorrow has been universal. But I will drop the subject. The
                                        survivor has displayed a strength and
                                    firmness of mind seldom equalled, where the affection has been so strong and
                                    mutual, and amidst the very high station and commanding fortune which so often
                                    render self-control more difficult, because so far from being habitual. I trust
                                    for his own sake, as well as for that of thousands to whom his life is directly
                                    essential, and hundreds of thousands to whom his example is important, that
                                    God, as he has given him fortitude to bear this inexpressible shock, will add
                                    strength of constitution to support him in the struggle. He has written to me
                                    on the occasion in a style becoming a man and a Christian, submissive to the
                                    will of God, and willing to avail himself of the consolations which remain
                                    among his family and friends. I am going to see him, and how we shall meet, God
                                    knows; but though ‘an iron man of iron mould’ upon many of
                                    the occasions of life in which I see people most affected, and a peculiar
                                    contemner of the commonplace sorrow which I see paid to the departed, this is a
                                    case in which my stoicism will not serve me. They both gave me reason to think
                                    they
 the death of
                                    the beautiful, the kind, the affectionate, and generous Duchess of Buccleuch gave me a shock, which, to
                                    speak God’s truth, could not have been exceeded unless by my own
                                    family’s sustaining a similar deprivation. She was indeed a light set
                                    upon a hill, and had all the grace which the most accomplished manners and the
                                    most affable address could give to those virtues by which she was raised still
                                    higher than by rank. As she always distinguished me by her regard and
                                    confidence, and as I had many opportunities of seeing her in the active
                                    discharge of duties in which she rather resembled a descended angel than an
                                    earthly being, you will excuse my saying so much about my own feelings on an
                                    occasion where sorrow has been universal. But I will drop the subject. The
                                        survivor has displayed a strength and
                                    firmness of mind seldom equalled, where the affection has been so strong and
                                    mutual, and amidst the very high station and commanding fortune which so often
                                    render self-control more difficult, because so far from being habitual. I trust
                                    for his own sake, as well as for that of thousands to whom his life is directly
                                    essential, and hundreds of thousands to whom his example is important, that
                                    God, as he has given him fortitude to bear this inexpressible shock, will add
                                    strength of constitution to support him in the struggle. He has written to me
                                    on the occasion in a style becoming a man and a Christian, submissive to the
                                    will of God, and willing to avail himself of the consolations which remain
                                    among his family and friends. I am going to see him, and how we shall meet, God
                                    knows; but though ‘an iron man of iron mould’ upon many of
                                    the occasions of life in which I see people most affected, and a peculiar
                                    contemner of the commonplace sorrow which I see paid to the departed, this is a
                                    case in which my stoicism will not serve me. They both gave me reason to think
                                    they ![]()
| 292 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |  | 
![]() loved me, and I returned their regard with the most
                                    sincere attachment—the distinction of rank being, I think, set apart on all
                                    sides. But God’s will be done. I will dwell no longer upon this subject.
                                    It is much to learn that Mrs Morritt is
                                    so much better, and that if I have sustained a severe wound from a quarter so
                                    little expected, I may promise myself the happiness of your dear wife’s
                                    recovery.
 loved me, and I returned their regard with the most
                                    sincere attachment—the distinction of rank being, I think, set apart on all
                                    sides. But God’s will be done. I will dwell no longer upon this subject.
                                    It is much to learn that Mrs Morritt is
                                    so much better, and that if I have sustained a severe wound from a quarter so
                                    little expected, I may promise myself the happiness of your dear wife’s
                                    recovery. 
    
     “I will shortly mention the train of our voyage,
                                    reserving particulars till another day. We sailed from Leith and skirted the
                                    Scottish coast, visiting the Buller of Buchan and other remarkable objects—went
                                    to Shetland—thence to Orkney—from thence round Cape Wrath to the Hebrides,
                                    making descents every where, where there was any thing to be seen—thence to
                                    Lewis and the Long Island—to Skye—to Iona—and so forth, lingering among the
                                    Hebrides as long as we could. Then we stood over to the coast of Ireland, and
                                    visited the Giant’s Causeway and Port Rush, where Dr Richardson, the inventor (discoverer I
                                    would say) of the celebrated fiorin grass resides. By the way, he is a
                                    chattering charlatan, and his fiorin a mere humbug. But if he were Cicero, and his invention were potatoes, or any
                                    thing equally useful, I should detest the recollection of the place and the
                                    man, for it was there I learned the death of my friend. Adieu, my dear
                                        Morritt; kind compliments to your
                                    lady; like poor Tom, ‘I cannot
                                        daub it farther.’ When I hear where you are, and what you are
                                    doing, I will write you a more cheerful epistle. Poor Mackenzie, too, is gone—the brother of our
                                    friend Lady Hood—and another Mackenzie, son to the Man of Feeling. So short time have I been
                                    absent, and such has been the harvest of mortality among those whom I regarded. 
    
     “I will attend to your corrections in Waverley. My ![]()
|  | JAMES HOGG—ALTRIVE LAKE. | 293 | 
![]() principal employment for
                                    the autumn will be reducing the knowledge I have acquired of the localities of
                                    the islands into scenery and stage-room for the ‘Lord of the Isles,’ of which renowned
                                    romance I think I have repeated some portions to you. It was elder born than
                                        Rokeby, though it gave place
                                    to it in publishing.
 principal employment for
                                    the autumn will be reducing the knowledge I have acquired of the localities of
                                    the islands into scenery and stage-room for the ‘Lord of the Isles,’ of which renowned
                                    romance I think I have repeated some portions to you. It was elder born than
                                        Rokeby, though it gave place
                                    to it in publishing. 
    
     “After all, scribbling is an odd propensity. I
                                    don’t believe there is any ointment, even that of the Edinburgh Review, which can cure the infected.
                                    Once more yours entirely, 
    
    
    
    
    James Hogg [The Ettrick Shepherd]   (1770-1835)  
                  Scottish autodidact, poet, and novelist; author of 
The Queen's
                            Wake (1813) and 
Private Memoirs and Confessions of a Justified
                            Sinner (1824).
               
 
    Henry Mackenzie  (1745-1831)  
                  Scottish man of letters, author of 
The Man of Feeling (1770) and
                        editor of 
The Mirror (1779-80) and 
The
                            Lounger (1785-87).
               
 
    Hugh Mackenzie  (1783-1814)  
                  The fourth son of the novelist Henry Mackenzie; he was a London barrister.
               
 
    
    William Frederick Mackenzie  (1791 c.-1814)  
                  The third son of Lt.-Gen. Francis Humberston Mackenzie, first Lord Seaforth; he was
                        educated at Harrow and was MP for Ross (1812-14).
               
 
    Thomas Moore  (1779-1852)  
                  Irish poet and biographer, author of the 
Irish Melodies (1807-34),
                            
The Fudge Family in Paris (1818), and 
Lalla
                            Rookh (1817); he was Byron's close friend and designated biographer.
               
 
    
    Katherine Morritt  [née Stanley]   (d. 1815)  
                  The daughter of the Reverend Thomas Stanley, rector of Winwick in Lancashire; in 1803 she
                        married John Morritt of Rokeby.
               
 
    John Murray II  (1778-1843)  
                  The second John Murray began the 
Quarterly Review in 1809 and
                        published works by Scott, Byron, Austen, Crabbe, and other literary notables.
               
 
    William Richardson  (1740-1820)  
                  Irish clergyman and naturalist who published on grasses in the 
Gentleman's Magazine; he was educated at Trinity College, Dublin and was rector
                        of Clonfeacle.