“I have yours of the Sunday morning, which has been terribly long of coming. There needed no apology for mentioning any thing in which I could be of service to Wilson; and, so far as good words and good wishes here can do, I think he will be successful; but the battle must be fought in Edinburgh. You are aware that the only point of exception to Wilson may be, that, with the fire of genius, he has possessed some of its eccentricities; but, did he ever approach to those of Henry Brougham, who is the god of Whiggish idolatry? If the high and rare qualities with which he is invested are to be thrown aside as useless, because they may be clouded by a few grains of dust which he can blow aside at pleasure, it is less a punishment on Mr Wilson than on the country. I have little doubt he would consider success in this weighty matter as a pledge for binding down his acute and powerful mind to more regular labour than circumstances have hitherto required of him; for indeed, without doing so, the appointment could in no point of view answer his purpose. He must stretch to the oar for his own credit as well as that of his friends; and if he does so there can be no doubt that his efforts will be doubly blessed, in reference both to himself and to public utility. He must make every friend he can amongst the council. Palladio Johnstone should not be omitted. If my wife canvasses him, she may do some good.*
* Mr Robert Johnston, a grocer on a large scale on the North |
374 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
“You must, of course, recommend to Wilson great temper in his canvass—for wrath will do no good. After all, he must leave off sack, purge, and live cleanly as a gentleman ought to do; otherwise people will compare his present ambition to that of Sir Terry O’Fag when he wished to become a judge. ‘Our pleasant follies are made the whips to scourge us,’ as Lear says; for otherwise what could possibly stand in the way of his nomination? I trust it will take place, and give him the consistence and steadiness which are all he wants to make him the first man of the age.
“I am very angry with Castle Street—Not a soul has written me, save yourself, since I came to London. Yours very truly,