Part 2

Sir Walter was by no means a precocious author either in verse or prose. He had reached his 25th year before he had given any indications of the peculiar talents which were destined to render him the most popular and voluminous writer of his age. The circumstances which awakened his dormant powers, and altered the whole complexion of his future life, have been detailed by himself in a very interesting manner in the biographical introductions prefixed to the later editions of his works. After mentioning the remarkably low ebb to which the art of poetry had fallen during the last ten years of the eighteenth century, he describes the effect produced by the introduction of some translations of the German ballad school, especially of Bürger’s ‘Leonore,’ and the extraordinary excitement produced by the German poetry on his own mind. Having recently made himself master of the German language, he was led to form an acquaintance with Mr. Lewis, the author of ‘The Monk,’ who chanced about that period to visit Edinburgh; and, “out of this acquaintance,” says Scott, “consequences arose which altered almost all the Scottish ballad-maker’s future prospects in life.” In early youth he had been an eager student of ballad poetry, both printed and oral, but he had never dreamt, he says, of attempting that style of writing himself. “I had,” he observes, “indeed, tried the metrical translations which were occasionally recommended to us at the High School. I got credit for attempting to do what was enjoined, but very little for the mode in which the task was performed; and I used to feel not a little mortified when my verses were placed in contrast with others of admitted merit.”

The result of this resolution was the translation of several ballads from Bürger; and finding these very favourably received by the friends to whom he showed them in MS. he was induced to try their effect on the public by publishing anonymously the translation of ‘Leonore,’ with that of ‘The Wild Huntsman,’ in a thin quarto[3]. “The fate of this my first publication,” he remarks, “was by no means flattering. I distributed so many copies among my friends, as materially to interfere with the sale; and the number of translations which appeared in England about the same time, including that of Mr. Taylor, to which I had been so much indebted, and which was published in the Monthly Magazine, were sufficient to exclude a provincial writer from competition.... In a word, my adventure proved a dead loss; and a great part of the edition was condemned to the service of the trunk-maker.”

Without allowing himself, however, to be discouraged by this failure, the young poet continued his prosecution of German literature, and, in 1799, published ‘Goetz of Berlichingen,’ a tragedy translated from the German of Goëthe. Meanwhile he continued his devotion to ballad poetry, and by degrees gained sufficient confidence to attempt original composition in that style, ‘Glenfinlas,’ a Highland legend, and ‘The Eve of St. John,’ a border ballad (of which the scene was Smailholm Tower, the haunt of his early childhood), were his first original productions; and from this period he appears to have devoted himself, at least in secret, with increasing confidence and ardour to his favourite pursuits. To his confidential friend, William Erskine, he is said to have opened the purpose of his heart--to secure a small competence, and then dedicate all the time he could command to literature.

By the time that Scott had attained his 32d year, he was in a situation to take this step without imprudence. His success as a barrister was not such as to hold out any very flattering prospects of his attaining either wealth or distinction by his profession; at least not with such divided affection as he was inclined to bestow upon it. “My profession and I,” he says, “came to stand nearly upon the footing which honest Slender consoled himself with having established with Mrs. Anne Page. ‘There was no great love between us at the beginning, and it pleased Heaven to decrease it on farther acquaintance!’ I became sensible that the time was come when I must either buckle myself resolutely to ‘the toil by day, the lamp by night,’ renouncing all the Dalilahs of my imagination, or bid adieu to the profession of the law, and hold another course.”

His appointment as Sheriff, however, with some fortune left him by his father, secured him a moderate competency; and his marriage, which took place in 1797, is understood to have augmented his family resources by an annuity which Mrs. Scott possessed of £400; so that when he made up his mind to abandon his professional practice, he must have attained an income of at least £700 or £800 a year. The lady he married was a Miss Carpenter, a native, we believe, of the city of Lyons, but of English parentage, with whom he had become acquainted at the watering-place of Gilsland, in Cumberland. She is said to have possessed in youth great personal attractions.

After his marriage he spent several summers in a delightful retreat at Lasswade, on the banks of the Esk, about five miles from Edinburgh. Here he continued the prosecution of his favourite studies, and commenced the work which first established his name in literature--‘The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border.’ The materials of this work were collected during various excursions, or _raids_, as Sir Walter was wont to call them, through the most remote recesses of the border glens, made by the poetical compiler in person, assisted by one or two other enthusiasts in ballad lore. Preeminent among his coadjutors in this undertaking, was Dr. John Leyden, an enthusiastic borderer and ballad-monger like himself, and to whom he has gratefully acknowledged his obligations both in verse and prose.

Some amusing anecdotes have been printed, and others are yet extant in oral tradition among the border hills, of the circumstances attending the collection of these ballads. The old women, who were almost the only remaining depositaries of ancient song and tradition, though proud of being solicited to recite them by “so grand a man” as “an Edinburgh Advocate,” could not repress their astonishment that “a man o’ sense an’ lair” (learning) should spend his time in writing into a book “auld ballads and stories of the bluidy border wars and paipish times.” The writer of this sketch (himself a borderer) remembers well that the first time he heard the name of Walter Scott mentioned was on seeing some of the proof sheets of the ‘Border Minstrelsy’ at Kelso in 1802, while the work was printing by Mr. Ballantyne, a native of that town, and an early friend of Sir Walter’s. On eagerly inquiring who it was that had collected these old ballads, with many of which he was previously familiar from oral recitation, he was told that it was “one Mr. Scott, an Edinburgh _Writer_ or Advocate, who had lately been appointed Sheriff of Selkirkshire;” and this was all he could then learn on the subject. The Minstrelsy was issued at first in two volumes, but a third was added with the second edition. Two years subsequently he published the romance of ‘Sir Tristram,’ a Scottish metrical tale of the thirteenth century, which he showed, in a learned disquisition, to have been composed by Thomas of Ercildown, commonly called the Rhymer.

These works, especially the ‘Border Minstrelsy,’ were favourably received by the public, and established Scott’s reputation on a very respectable footing, as an excellent poetical antiquary, and as a writer of considerable power and promise, both in verse and prose. As yet, however, he had produced no composition of originality and importance sufficient to secure that high and permanent rank in literature, to which his secret ambition led him to aspire. But he had now a subject in hand which was destined to attain for him a popularity far beyond what his most sanguine hopes could have ventured to anticipate.

‘The Lay of the Last Minstrel’ appeared in 1805. The structure of the verse was suggested, as the author states, by the ‘Christabel’ of Coleridge, a part of which had been repeated to him, about the year 1800, by Sir John Stoddart. The originality, wildness, poetical beauty, and descriptive power of Scott’s border romance produced an effect on the public mind, only to be equalled, perhaps, by some of the earlier works of Byron.

In the spring of 1806 Sir Walter obtained an appointment which, he says, completely met his moderate wishes as to preferment. This was the office of a principal Clerk of Session, of which the duties are by no means heavy, though personal attendance during the sitting of the courts is required. Mr. Pitt, under whose administration the appointment had been granted, having died before it was officially completed, the succeeding Whig Ministry had the satisfaction of confirming it, accompanied by very complimentary expressions from Mr. Fox to the nominee on the occasion. The emoluments of this office were about £1,200 a year; but Scott received no part of the salary till the decease of his predecessor in 1812, the appointment being a reversionary one.

From the appearance of the ‘Lay of the Last Minstrel’ the history of Sir Walter Scott is, with the exception of a few important incidents, little else than the history of his numerous publications. To criticise, or even to enumerate with precision, the whole of that voluminous and splendid array, forms no part of the object of the present article; but we must briefly notice the appearance of the principal works.

‘Marmion’ appeared in 1808, and, though pretty sharply criticised by some of the reviewers, was received by the public with a degree of favour, if possible, even surpassing that experienced by the ‘Lay.’ This was succeeded in 1810 by ‘The Lady of the Lake;’ in 1811 appeared ‘Don Roderick;’ in 1813, ‘Rokeby;’ and in 1814 ‘The Lord of the Isles.’ ‘The Bridal of Triermain,’ and ‘Harold the Dauntless,’ appeared anonymously, the former in 1813, and the latter in 1817.

After the publication of ‘The Lady of the Lake,’ the popularity of Scott’s poetry began to decline. This was partly owing to the public having become satiated with his peculiar style, which had now lost the charm of novelty: partly, also, to some inferiority, in interest or in execution, of the poems themselves; but principally to the circumstance of a rival having entered the lists, of such prowess as to eclipse even the minstrel Knight of Flodden Field and Bannockburn. This was Lord Byron, who published the first two cantos of ‘Childe Harold’ in 1812, and followed up these by a rapid succession of brilliant productions, which for a time cast every thing else in the shape of verse into the shade.

In the mean while Sir Walter appeared to prosper apace in his worldly circumstances. In the enjoyment of an income of above £2,000 a year, independently altogether of his literary exertions, he was supposed at least to double that income, one year with another, by the exuberant harvest of his brain. His industry appeared almost as extraordinary as the force and versatility of his talents. Amidst the full blaze of his poetical renown, and while one metrical romance followed another with dazzling rapidity, he found time for a variety of laborious works in criticism, biography, and miscellaneous literature, which added considerably both to his funds and his reputation. Among these were new editions of the works of Dryden and Swift, with biographical memoirs; ‘Sadler’s State Papers;’ ‘Somers’ Tracts;’ ‘Lives of the Novelists;’ besides numerous contributions to encyclopædias, reviews, and other periodical publications. Amidst all this labour, too, he found abundant leisure not only for his official avocations, but for social enjoyment and rural recreation.

While the Court of Session was sitting, Scott lived in Edinburgh, in a good substantial house in North Castle Street. During the vacations he resided in the country, and appeared to enter with ardour into the ordinary occupations and amusements of country gentlemen. After he was appointed Sheriff of Selkirk, he hired for his summer residence the house and farm of Ashiesteil, in a romantic situation on the banks of the Tweed; and here many of his poetical works were written. But with the increase of his resources grew the desire to possess landed property of his own, where he might indulge his tastes for building, planting, and gardening. Commencing with moderation, he purchased a small farm of about one hundred acres, lying on the south bank of the Tweed, three miles above Melrose, and in the very centre of that romantic and legendary country which his first great poem has made familiar to every reader. This spot, then called Cartly Hole, had a northern exposure, and at that time a somewhat bleak and uninviting aspect; the only habitable house upon it was a small and inconvenient farm-house. Such was the nucleus of the mansion and estate of Abbotsford. By degrees, as his resources increased, he added farm after farm to his domain, and reared his chateau, turret after turret, till he had completed what a French tourist not inaptly terms “a romance in stone and lime;” clothing meanwhile the hills behind, and embowering the lawns before, with flourishing woods of his own planting. The embellishment of his house and grounds, and the enlargement of his landed property, became, after the establishment of his literary reputation, the objects, apparently, of Scott’s most engrossing interest: and whatever may be the intrinsic value of the estate as a heritage to his posterity, he has at least succeeded in creating a scene altogether of no ordinary attractions, and worthy of being for ever associated with his distinguished name.

The appearance of the prose romance of Waverley in 1814 forms an epoch in modern literature as well as in the life of Scott. The circumstances which led him to attempt this new style of composition, and induced him for so long a period carefully to conceal his authorship, are detailed in a very interesting manner in his introduction to the new edition of this extraordinary series of tales. We cannot do more than merely refer to his own narrative. But we may remark in passing, that however well the secret was kept, and however vehement and ludicrous the controversies to which it gave rise, it was in reality no secret at all to any one (to any Scotchman, at least, of literary sagacity) who was acquainted with Sir Walter’s other works, or with his trains of thought and modes of expression. Among the literary men of Edinburgh, assuredly, there was scarcely even the shadow of a doubt from the beginning. The writer of this sketch remembers well a conversation he had with Sir Walter, after the publication of ‘Guy Mannering,’ about the gipsy heroine, Jean Gordon, subsequently avowed to have been the prototype of Meg Merrilies. After relating the story (now well known) of Jean Gordon and the Goodman of Lochside,--“I have a great notion,” added Scott, with impenetrable command of countenance, though he saw that his auditor could not repress a smile--“I have a great notion that the author of Waverley had Jean Gordon in his eye when he drew the character of Meg Merrilies.” And his visitor concurred in the opinion as gravely as he could; having at the same time no more doubt as to the authorship than he has now.

The mystery, however, such as it was, had doubtless some effect in increasing the interest of these extraordinary fictions; though in truth, they required no adventitious charm to render them popular. With faults neither slight nor few, they evinced merit of such high order and of such vast variety, that they firmly established the author on that throne of literary supremacy, where the very highest of his poetical works could not long legitimately maintain him. In his metrical romances, Scott appears like one of his own knights of chivalry, magnificent and imposing, and stalwart in action, but at the same time somewhat stiff and artificial from the very constraint of the shining harness which incases him. But in his best prose fictions he is free, natural, graceful, and energetic as his Rob Roy with his foot on his native heath. It was in prose fiction that Scott at length found where the true secret of his strength lay.

It is a curious circumstance that he had commenced the novel of Waverley so early as 1805, and had then actually advertised it to be published by Mr. John Ballantyne, bookseller in Edinburgh; but, after proceeding as far as the seventh chapter, receiving an unfavourable opinion from a critical friend, he had thrown it aside, and continued his brilliant career in verse. He ascribes to accident his resumption of novel writing at a later period; but it would have been more wonderful if he had not sooner or later discovered the richest vein of his intellectual wealth. It also proved to be an actual mine of gold in a more commercial sense. Year after year he poured forth the rich creations of his fertile brain; and such was their unprecedented success that all the chief booksellers of the kingdom competed for the privilege of turning his literary merchandise into money. Had he indeed received _gold_ and not _paper_, the _seventy-four volumes_ of his tales (for such was the amazing extent of these works) would have realized a sum far beyond what any author ever before received, and almost surpassing the fairy gifts of oriental fiction. But his connexion with the house of Constable and Co., who continued to be his principal publishers, led him into pecuniary speculations which eventually engulphed the larger portion of his well-earned fortune.

In the meanwhile Sir Walter considered himself, and was considered by the world in general, as a person in very prosperous and enviable circumstances. By an extraordinary union of great original genius with a degree of promptitude and industry scarcely less surprising, and regulated by a judgment and a tact which enabled him to adapt his productions with complete success to the popular taste of the age, he seemed to have “fixed a spoke in the wheel of Fortune.” His aristocratic ambition, too, to keep himself, as he expresses it, “abreast of society,” had been eminently successful. During the greater part of the summer and autumn, he kept house at Abbotsford like a wealthy country gentleman, receiving, with a cordial yet courtly hospitality, the many distinguished persons, both from England and the Continent, who found means to obtain an introduction to his “enchanted castle.” Anything more delightful than a visit to Abbotsford when Sir Walter was in the full enjoyment of his health and spirits can scarcely be imagined. After his morning labours, which, even when busiest, were seldom protracted beyond mid-day, (his time for composition being usually from seven to eleven or twelve o’clock,) he devoted himself to the entertainment of his guests with so much unaffected cordiality, such hilarity of spirits, and such homely kindliness of manner, and above all with such an entire absence of literary pretension, that the shyest stranger found himself at once on terms of the easiest familiarity with the most illustrious man in Europe.

The writer of these pages will long remember with a melancholy pleasure his first visit to Abbotsford. He had been acquainted with Sir Walter in Edinburgh for a year or two previously, but had not seen much of him in domestic or social life, when in the autumn of 1819 he received an invitation to visit him at his mansion on Tweed Side. Exclusive of his own family, he found five or six visitors, some like himself from a distance, and others gentlemen of the neighbourhood; but all of them early and intimate friends of Sir Walter, and more than one of them honourably distinguished by name in his works. Owing to this circumstance, probably, the conversation after dinner turned much upon his earlier days;--his moderate success as a barrister; his first efforts in literature; his pecuniary difficulties about the time of his marriage, which induced him for the sake of £70 to part with a favourite collection of coins and medals; and many similar topics,--which, though treated chiefly in a humorous vein of conversational anecdote, were of the highest interest as connected with the personal history of this extraordinary man. But though thus talking with the most delightful openness respecting his own career, when led to do so by his old comrades, he evinced not the slightest appearance of egotistical assumption or literary vanity. Of arrogance or envy he seemed not to have the slightest tinge in his composition; and he spoke much and kindly of other eminent men who had been his companions or rivals in the race of life, or of literary ambition. Some others of the little party were also men of conversational talent; but the object of all, as if by tacit agreement, was to draw out Scott to talk of “bygone times.” In this they were very successful, and the result was an intellectual treat of the richest and most racy description--such as those only who have seen Sir Walter in his happiest, drollest, and most communicative moods can have any conception of.

Such was Sir Walter at Abbotsford, in the heyday of his prosperity. He had then nearly reached the highest point of his literary eminence and worldly distinction. He was still in the vigour of life; with all the endearing links of his domestic circle unbroken; with an affluent fortune acquired by intellectual toils which had ennobled himself and enriched the literature of his country; and with yet higher personal distinction in immediate prospect. And no one who knew him then will deny that he wore his honours meekly.

In the spring of the ensuing year (1820) he was created a baronet of the United Kingdom, by George IV., as a testimony of personal favour and friendship. On the King’s visit to Scotland, in 1822, Sir Walter was invited to superintend the arrangements for his Majesty’s reception; and he performed that delicate and difficult task with admirable address and propriety, and gave, by his animating influence, something of a high and chivalrous character to what would probably have otherwise appeared a formal as well as a frivolous piece of pageantry.