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CHAPTER LII

1816—The Antiquary—Death of Major John Scott—The Aged Mother—Buying Land—The Ballantynes—The Black Dwarf and Blackwood—Scott and a Judgeship—Anecdote of Authorship of Waverley

CHAPTER LIII

1817—Overwork and Illness—Kemble's 'Farewell Address'—The Kemble Dinner—Blackwood's Magazine and the Reign of Terror in Edinburgh

CHAPTER LIV

Personal Anecdotes of Scott—Washington Irving—The Minister's Daughter—J. G. Lockhart—His Introduction to Scott—Annual Register—39 Castle Street—Scott's 'Den'—Animal Favourites

CHAPTER LV

Scott and Edinburgh Society—Lockhart's Opinion—Scott's Drives in Edinburgh—Love of Antiquities—The Sunday Dinners at 39 Castle Street—The Maclean Clephanes—Erskine, Clerk, C. K. Sharpe, Sir A. Boswell, W. Allan,—Favourite Dishes

CHAPTER LVI

The National Monument—Still incomplete—The Salisbury Crags—-Danger of their Destruction—The Path impassable—Construction of the Radical Road—National Distress—Trials for Sedition—Anecdote of John Clerk—The City Guard

CHAPTER LVII

Scott and the Ballantynes—James in the Canongate—Ceremonies at the 'Waverley' Dinners—Reading of Scenes from the New Volume—John at Trinity—His 'Bower of Bliss'—Anecdote by C. Mathews

CHAPTER LVIII

Anecdotes of Constable—'The Czar'—Plans the Magnum Opus—Anecdote of Longmans and Co.—Constable's House and Equipage—John Ballantyne's Habits—Horses and Dogs—Anecdote by Scott of his Liberality—Scott's Sorrow at his Death

CHAPTER LIX

The Baronetcy—Reasons for accepting—Marriage of Sophia Scott to John Gibson Lockhart—Charles Scott and Archdeacon Williams—Improvements in Edinburgh—The 'Water Caddies'—Drama of Rob Roy—The Burns Dinner—Henry Mackenzie

CHAPTER LX

The Commercial Disaster—Ruin of Ballantyne (Scott) and Constable—Scott's Feeling—Universal Sympathy—Offer of Help—Brave Reply—Cheerful Spirit—Constable—The Agreement—Removal from Castle Street—Death of Lady Scott—The Visit to Paris

CHAPTER LXI

House in Walker Street—Ill-health—Extraordinary Labours—Article on Hoffman—Kindness to Literary People—Murray's Party—Theatrical Fund Dinner—Life of Napoleon—Payment of £28,000 to Creditors—The Lockharts at Portobello—Grandfather's Tales—Domestic Happiness—Visit of Adolphus

CHAPTER LXII

Incident of Gourgaud—-Expected Duel—Scott's Preparations—Tired of Edinburgh—Changing Aspect of New Town—The 'Markets' superseded by Shops—The Female Poisoner—Scott's Opinion of 'Not Proven'—Points in its Favour

CHAPTER LXIII

Visit of Richardson and Cockburn to Abbotsford—Sir Walter at Home—Anecdote of Cranstoun—Patterson's Anecdotes—The Burke and Hare Murders—Anecdote of Cockburn—Dr. Knox—Catholic Emancipation Bill—Meeting in Edinburgh—Death of Terry and Shortreed—Severe Illness of Scott—Death of Tom Purdie

CHAPTER LXIV

Last Winter in Edinburgh—The Ayrshire Tragedy—Apoplectic Stroke—Retirement from the Clerkship—Visit to Edinburgh—Refusal to stop Literary Work—John Nicolson—Scott at Cadell's House—His Will

CHAPTER LXV

The Paralytic Stroke—The Last Novels—Election Meetings—Disgraceful Conduct of Radical Gangs—Scott's Journey for Health—The Return—Collapse and Stupor—The Last Stay in Edinburgh—Death of Sir Walter Scott

EDINBURGH

UNDER SIR WALTER SCOTT

CHAPTER I

Edinburgh in 1773—General Features of the Old City—Its Site and Plan—Flodden Wall—Nor' Loch—'Meadows'—Old Suburbs—Canongate—Portsburgh—'Mine own romantic Town'—College Wynd, Birthplace of Scott—Improvements in the Old Town.

The Edinburgh of Walter Scott's infancy was still the old, romantic, medieval city. It was almost wholly confined within the city wall, a result of the adherence to customs sanctioned by tradition, long after the causes which first established them have ceased to operate. The constantly recurring danger from English invasions was, in early times, a full and sufficient reason for dwelling inside the fortification. Of course, from the earliest times there was a tendency, especially among the leading and wealthy families, to build dwelling-houses and lay out gardens among the fields. Yet, on the whole, the increasing population sought its accommodation within the limits of the town. This is why Edinburgh citizens, following the old fashion of Paris, built their houses of an enormous height, some of them as high as twelve stories or more. The ground space available was, of course, limited by the extent of the wall, and on one side by the water of the Nor' Loch. Hence the necessity for making good use of every possible site. Social arrangements of a singular and quaint simplicity were the not unnatural result. In each gigantic barrack might be found ever so many different families, each occupying its own independent dwelling, sometimes consisting of only two or three rooms. The social dignity of the tenant increased with the height of his quarters. In the cellars and on the street floor were the humble members of the business and manual-working classes; professional persons went a story higher; and the nobility and gentry overlooked the whole from the upper half of the mansion. In modern times these houses, so far as they still exist, have been handed over almost entirely to the lower orders: they are, in fact, the slums of Edinburgh. But the quaint old arrangements had hardly been impaired even up to the year of Marmion and 'mine own romantic town.'

The site of the old city is as singular a site as could have been chosen, but it was selected with the one view of enjoying the very necessary protection of its citadel, the Castle. Its main street extends over the long backbone of the famous ridge which slopes from the Castle to Holyrood. The steep northern side of the ridge was bounded by the long sheet of water called the Nor' Loch, which formed a natural defence from the Castle Hill to a point called Halkerston's Wynd. The contour of the city has been compared to the figure of a turtle, the Castle being taken for the head, the High Street for the ridge of the back, and the numerous wynds and closes for the ribs: the analogy being completed by adding Canongate and Holyrood Palace for the tail. In similar figure, Carlyle graphically presents the sloping street and its wynds as 'covering like some rhinoceros skin, with many a gnarled embossment, church steeple, chimney head, Tolbooth and other ornament or indispensability, back and ribs of the slope.' The old city wall, built by James II., had fallen into ruin and disrepair by the year of Flodden, 1513. On that disastrous occasion there was built in hot haste and panic, of which even the surviving fragments give proof, the famous 'Flodden Wall,' which formed the city boundary till the time of Scott. The north side being almost entirely defended by the Nor' Loch, the wall extended from the Castle round the south and east sides of the city. Beside the Castle rock the first entrance to the city was the West Port, a gate which stood at the foot of the Grassmarket. We may judge how greatly the presence of the walls affected the life of the citizens from the fact that a small wicket-gate had to be constructed in the wall some distance from this Port in the year 1744. Twenty-two years before this, Thomas Hope of Rankeillor had drained the Borough Loch, and planted trees, made a walk, and laid down turf on its side, thus forming the park known as 'The Meadows.' It was to afford 'a more commodious egress to the elegant walks in the meadows' that the wicket was eventually opened. From the West Port the wall ran half-way along the east side of the steep lane called the Vennel, where a portion of it is still existent, thence turning south-east to Bristo Port. The next gate eastward was the Potterrow Port, originally Kirk-of-Field Port, at the head of the Horse Wynd, a lane leading down into the Cowgate. The Horse Wynd was, in fact, the principal access to the town in this quarter, and got its name from being, unlike the others, safe for horses. By the line of Drummond Street the wall proceeded to the Pleasance and the foot of St. Mary Wynd, which the Nether Bow joined to Leith Wynd. The Nether Bow, which was not built till 1616, was the chief entrance of the city, separating it from the Burgh of Canongate. The part of the wall which ran from the Nether Bow to the point at which Leith Wynd crossed the Nor' Loch was added in the year 1540.

Such were the walled boundaries of Edinburgh, within which the city made shift to contain its increasing population during a period of about two hundred and fifty years. Practically the Edinburgh of these centuries lay between the Castle and Holyrood lengthwise, and in breadth between the Nor' Loch and some distance beyond the Cowgate on the south. There was no lack, however, at any period of persons who preferred to live outside the city walls. In fact, old writers are continually remarking on such a strange and perverse disposition, for which they cannot account, especially in those old days when the danger from England was a very grim reality. The propensity led to the gradual growth of a few suburban hamlets, and the only wonder is that they were not larger and more numerous. Of these outside regions the Canongate was the largest, but it was really at first an independent ecclesiastical burgh, established by David I. in 1128 under the Abbey of Holyrood. It did not come under the jurisdiction of the city till the year 1636, when the Town Council bought it from the Earl of Roxburgh. Another 'burgh' of ancient fame was 'Portsburgh' at the other end of the city, extending from the West Port to Toll Cross. Straggling houses belonging to citizens were also to be found farther afield on the Glasgow Road, and in the district now named Dairy. The suburb of Bristo Street, as we have seen, adjoined one of the city gates, and beyond it were the grounds of Ross House, which about 1764 supplied a site for George Square, named after the reigning monarch, George III.

Within these bounds, then, is all that Scott meant when he wrote the words, 'mine own romantic town.' And indeed it was full of romance in every quarter. To him the New Town was but an appendage, a fast-growing appendage of the city itself—a fringe which set off the beauty of the general view. From his Castle Street mansion he looked across to the city of his imagination, and had he lived to see the beginning of the twentieth century, he might have gone farther afield. The city improvements of a large and important provincial centre could hardly have consoled his outraged spirit for the ruthless and needless destruction of priceless relics of the past in which he lived.

Edinburgh University, that is, the old University building, stands in a busy street, without any 'grounds' to remove it from the outside noise and distinguish it from the line of shops and shabby houses. The city of Edinburgh has always been celebrated for its unhappiness in the matter of selecting 'sites.' Why, therefore, the University was put in this unfortunate corner, need not be discussed. The Town Council, it seems, was responsible for the building, and the architect employed was Robert Adam. This edifice, according to a contemporary, was considered by many 'as the masterpiece of Mr. Adam,' but for lack of money the original plans were modified by W. H. Playfair. To make way for this great city improvement, one of the most characteristic 'bits' of old Edinburgh was cleared away. This was College Wynd, now known as Guthrie Street. The picturesque medieval lane, with its jutting balconies, battlemented roofs and charming old windows, had for nearly two centuries been a kind of University, or College, 'Close,' practically reserved for the residence of the learned Regents or Professors from generation to generation. One of the houses at the top of the Wynd demolished on this occasion belonged to Mr. Walter Scott, W.S., who resided in it with his family. Here happened the greatest event in the history of Edinburgh, the birth of our Walter Scott, on the 15th of August 1771.

The locality was not even at that time considered quite a desirable one, but socially it was regarded as satisfactory, even for a family of gentle birth. The fact is that about this time certain new ideas regarding health and fresh air were beginning to excite attention among the inhabitants of the old city. The rate of infant mortality was frightfully high, and the doctors began to ascribe it to the closeness and damp of the nurseries. In the lofty old mansions these were frequently located, for obvious reasons of convenience, in the 'laigh rooms' or sunk floors below the level of the street. The time was ripe for a great change. Building had already been begun on the site of Princes Street and George Street. Plans for a New Town had been approved in 1761, the architect being Mr. James Craig, who was a nephew of Thomson the poet. The North Bridge, which was to connect the New Town with the Old, was finished in 1772. At the same time a more conservative policy led others to try to confine the desired improvement to the Old Town. Brown's Square, part of which still may be seen at the top of Chambers Street, was built, and this was for the time the exclusively fashionable quarter of the city. It was to Brown's Square, as we read in Redgauntlet (Letter II.), that the Fairfords removed, when, as Alan relates to his friend Darsie Latimer, 'the leaving his old apartments in the Luckenbooths was to him' (the elder Fairford) 'like divorcing the soul from the body; yet Dr. R—— did but hint that the better air of this new district was more favourable to my health, as I was then suffering under the penalties of too rapid a growth, when he exchanged his old and beloved quarters, adjacent to the very Heart of Midlothian, for one of those new tenements [entire within themselves] which modern taste has so lately introduced.'

CHAPTER II

The Scotts in George Square—Walter's Lameness—Sandyknowe—Bath—Edinburgh—Changes in the City, 1763-1783—Migrations to the New Town—The Mound—New Manufactures and Trades—The first Umbrella.

To the good people of Edinburgh who had for many years the privilege of seeing Walter Scott daily in their streets, his robust and manly form must have emphasised his unfortunate lameness. It is a defect very painful to a man of bold and active spirit. But Scott had to bear with it all his life through. It began when he was an infant of eighteen months.

The touching little family tradition was often repeated to him afterwards, how one night he was racing about the room in an access of childish high spirits, refusing to go to bed. With difficulty he was caught at last and conveyed to his crib. Next morning he was found to be suffering from fever, and on the fourth day it was discovered that he had lost the use of the right leg. There appeared to be no dislocation or sprain; but the remedies devised by Dr. Rutherford and the other specialists from the University were of no avail. Walter was, in fact, doomed to be lame for life. He tells with a touch of melancholy humour how his parents in their anxiety eagerly made trial of every remedy offered by the sympathy of old friends or by the self-interest of empirics, and some of them were eccentric enough. On Dr. Rutherford's advice, however, the very sensible plan was adopted of sending the child to the country, where, with perfect freedom for open air life, he might have the chance of all the benefit that might gradually be obtained from the natural exertion of his limbs.

He was sent immediately to his grandfather Scott's residence at Sandyknowe, and here, to use his own words, 'I, who in a city had probably been condemned to hopeless and helpless decrepitude, was now a healthy, high-spirited, and, my lameness apart, a sturdy child—non sine diis animosus infans.' This gratifying improvement was quite confirmed by the time he was four years of age, but his parents were only the more anxious in their efforts after a complete cure. At this time it was suggested to his father that the waters at Bath might have some effect on the child's lameness. He was sent to Bath, going first by sea to London. Here he was taken to see the Tower, Westminster Abbey, etc., of which he took with him an impression so strong, complete, and accurate, that, on visiting the same scenes twenty-five years afterwards, he found nothing to correct in the mental pictures which his powerful memory had so long retained. The residence at Bath had no effect on his lameness, but it was here he learned to read, partly at a dame school, and partly at his aunt's knee. 'But I never' (he says) 'acquired a just pronunciation, nor could I read with much propriety.' After a year of Bath, he returned to Edinburgh. A short interval at home was followed by another season at beloved Sandyknowe. Sea-bathing was next recommended for his lameness, and after a few weeks of this at Prestonpans, he was finally taken home to George Square, which continued to be his dwelling-place till his marriage in 1797. He was, of course, too young to appreciate the changes which were going on in the city, but in later years no one realised more keenly than he the revolutionary effects, both concrete and social, of those same years of his childhood. His unfortunate lameness no doubt debarred Walter from seeing as much of the great extensions then proceeding as his brothers may have examined, but they must have been the one unfailing and constant topic of conversation everywhere, and were no doubt of special interest to one who could not even then have been unduly impressed by the vast cost and supposed magnificence of all that was new. The description just given of the city as contained within the old 'Flodden Wall' will help the reader at once to understand how the Edinburgh of Scott's single life differed from the Modern City, and how very considerable were the additions already to the ancient town. Some curious facts have been preserved in an old annual publication called the Picture of Edinburgh. In it we find a quaint 'comparative view' of Edinburgh as it was in 1763 and Edinburgh in the year 1783. In this period there were added on the south side Nicolson Street and Square, most of Bristo Street, George Square, and other streets: all of which took the place of gardens and open fields. The New Town had risen as if by magic. Progressive shopkeepers and bailies were already boasting of George Street as the most splendid street in Europe,[1] and Princes Street as the most elegant terrace. It was computed that over two millions sterling had been spent in these extensions. Wholesale migrations followed from the Old Town to the New, and many grand old mansions passed into unexpected hands. Oliver Cromwell's former lodgings were occupied by a mere sheriff-clerk. The house that at the time of the Union was inhabited by the Duke of Douglas fell to a wheelwright, and Lord President Craigie's mansion was transferred to a seller of old furniture. So great, in fact, was the change of habits and ideas, that we are told a common chairman, or porter, who had got into the apartments once used by Lord Drummore, complained of defective accommodation! The year 1783 also saw a new passage opened between the Old Town and the New. This was effected by means of the huge heap of earth collected from the excavations made in digging so many foundations. By agreement with the contractors, all this earth was conveyed, free of charge, to the space between the foot of Hanover Street and the Old Town ridge. It is also stated that in this period the number of four-wheeled carriages in Edinburgh increased from 396 to 1268. Coach-building became one of the most important industries, if it be true that about 1783 an Edinburgh coachmaker received an order from Paris for one thousand coaches. It seems that before this time the operation of trade was exactly the reverse, Paris being reputed to make carriages superior to any in Europe. Other trades, which had been wholly unknown to the old city, now sprang into existence, indicating great change of manners as well as increase of wealth. Amongst those, drapers' shops became the most numerous in the city, and hairdressers vastly increased in number. Oyster-cellars also became numerous, and are noted as being frequented by people of fashion, who sometimes held their private dancing-parties in these places. It was now that umbrellas came into general use. Before 1763, it would appear that an umbrella was regarded in Edinburgh as a rare phenomenon.

[1] But to Scott, of course, the old High Street always was 'the principal street of Edinburgh.' It is to it he refers with pride in The Abbot as being 'then, as now, the most spacious street in Europe.'

CHAPTER III

School-days—The High School—Old Methods of Teaching—Luke Fraser—Tone of the School—Brutal Masters—Schoolboy's Dress—Boyish Ideas—Scott's Pride of Birth—The 'Harden' Family—'Beardie'—The Dryburgh Lands.

It was in 1778 that Walter Scott began to attend the Grammar School, or High School of Edinburgh. The High School building stood at the foot of Infirmary Street, in what was called the High School Wynd. The name 'High School Yards' is still attached to a neighbouring lane. The 'Yards' would be the boys' playground. Like other Grammar Schools in Scotland the High School was managed by the Town Council,[1] by whose authority, at a date so early as 1519, the citizens were charged to send their boys to it and to no other school. In 1777 the Town Council erected a new schoolhouse, as the rapidly increasing numbers required more extensive accommodation. It seems that in the eighteenth century the reputation of the school stood very high, and, of course, it had then no rivals in the city. The number of pupils about this time is stated to have been six hundred. The teaching staff consisted of the Rector and four masters.

[1] The school was transferred in 1873 to the School Board of Edinburgh.

The classes were, of course, very large, and the method of teaching was necessarily very simple. Short tasks in Latin, set purely for repetition, were rhymed over by each boy in the same words and the same way. One Henry Cockburn, who joined the school in 1787, says it drove him stupid. 'Oh! the bodily and mental wearisomeness of sitting six hours a day, staring idly at a page, without motion and without thought.' He says the school was notorious for its severity and riotousness, and recalls his feelings of trembling and dizziness when he sat down amidst above a hundred new faces. His master he characterises as being as bad a schoolmaster as it is possible to fancy. Walter Scott was more fortunate. His class was taught by Mr. Luke Fraser, a good Latin scholar and a very worthy man. Walter seems to have enjoyed his school life. In Mr. Fraser's class he was not distinguished as one of the brilliant pupils. To the latter, especially the dux, James Buchan, he pays a warm tribute, and of himself he says: 'I glanced like a meteor from one end of the class to the other, and commonly disgusted my kind master as much by negligence and frivolity as I occasionally pleased him by flashes of intellect and talent. Among my companions, my good-nature and a flow of ready imagination rendered me very popular.... In the winter play-hours, when hard exercise was impossible, my tales used to assemble an admiring audience round Lucky Brown's fireside, and happy was he that could sit next to the inexhaustible narrator. I was also, though often negligent of my own task, always ready to assist my friends; and hence I had a little party of staunch adherents and partisans, stout of hand and heart, though somewhat dull of head—the very tools for raising a hero to eminence. So, on the whole, I made a brighter figure in the yards than in the class.' In speaking of his education, it must be remembered that he always underrates his attainments. There is no doubt that he had a gift for acquiring languages and was a remarkable pupil in every class. But because he was a little behind the others at the start, he seems to have fancied himself somewhat in that position all through. As to the manners and morals of the boys, Scott has left no criticism. Of their outside fun and adventures he has given a lively sketch in the episode of Green-Breeks in the third Appendix to the General Preface of his novels. We learn from Lord Cockburn that in his time and in his opinion, the tone of the school was vulgar and harsh. Among the boys (he states) coarseness of language and manners was the only fashion. An English boy was so rare, that his language was openly laughed at. No lady could be seen within the walls. Nothing evidently civilised was safe. Two of the masters, in particular, were so savage, that any master doing now what they did every hour, would certainly be transported.

The same writer mentions that the boys had to be at school during summer at seven in the morning. Here is his interesting description of his dress as a schoolboy: 'I often think I see myself in my usual High School apparel, which was the common dress of other boys. It consisted of a round black hat; a shirt fastened at the neck by a black ribbon, and except on dress days, unruffled; a cloth waistcoat, rather large, with two rows of buttons and of button-holes, so that it could be buttoned on either side, which, when one side got dirty, was convenient; a single-breasted jacket, which in due time got a tail and became a coat; brown corduroy breeks, tied at the knees by a showy knot of brown cotton tape; worsted stockings in winter, blue cotton stockings in summer, and white cotton for dress; clumsy shoes made to be used on either foot, and each requiring to be used on alternate feet daily; brass or copper buckles. The coat and waistcoat were always of glaring colours, such as bright blue, grass green, and scarlet. I remember well the pride with which I was once rigged out in a scarlet waistcoat and a bright green coat. No such machinery as what are now termed braces or suspenders had then been imagined.'

There was plenty of pride among the High School boys. The roughness of manners and coarseness of speech which they shared with the lower orders never impaired the strong feeling of caste which they imbibed at home. Among the baser spirits it was, of course, selfish and conceited, but it had a better and healthier effect on the finer natures of the few. Even as a boy, Walter Scott, as we have seen, lived much in an ideal world of his own creation. It was largely peopled with the romantic figures of the adventurous past, and the boy must have delighted greatly in the knowledge that many of his heroes of the past were ancestors of his own. Pride of birth was certainly one of his earliest ideals, and it continued to influence him, in a manly and noble spirit, all through life. It colours, as we know, every page of his romantic writings, both verse and prose. It is united always with the ideas of truth, honour, and courage, and strongly allied with a beautiful sentiment of chivalry and grace.

Though he never boasted of his own lineage—vulgarity being alien to his nature—he was always conscious of it, and always lived up to the ideal standard it created in his mind. His pedigree was one in which a romantic antiquary could not but rejoice. On the mother's side he was a lineal descendant of the Swintons of that ilk, a family which (as he records) produced many distinguished warriors in the Middle Ages, and which, for antiquity and honourable alliances, may rank with any in Britain. His father's family, the Scotts of Harden, were still more after his poetical heart. 'Wat of Harden, who came with speed,' was a typical Border chief, the sturdy hero of many a minstrel's lay. For among these rude Borderers not only had every dale its battle, but every river its song. And this attachment to music and song, together with the 'rude species of chivalry in constant use' among the Border clans, raises them to a level amply sufficient for romance. The grandson of Wat of Harden was another Walter Scott, who, not being his father's eldest son, was employed as Factor on the estate of Makerston. It is strange to think of Wat of Harden's grandson in a quasi-legal post and noted as a gentleman of literary leanings. Such he was, however, and a favourite friend of that great physician and elegant Latinist, Archibald Pitcairn. The two used to meet together in Edinburgh, and talked treasonable sentences in majestic Latin. This Walter, indeed, had proved his Jacobite loyalty in a manner worthy of his name. He had fought, 'with conquering Graham,' at Killiecrankie, and now testified his sorrow for the exile of the Stuarts by letting his beard grow, untouched by razor or scissors, as a symbol of mourning, and a visible protest.

This eccentricity gained for him the nickname of 'Beardie,' and it would have been well (says Sir Walter) that his zeal had stopped there. But he took arms, and intrigued in their cause, until he lost all he had in the world. His second son, Robert, was intended for the sea, but a shipwreck, which unfortunately occurred in his first voyage, gave him such a dislike for the salt water, that he refused to go back for a second trial. His father, displeased with his son's perversity, now left him to his own resources. It was the best thing that could have happened, for the youth had grit and character, as his grandson's amusing account of his proceedings sufficiently shows. 'He turned Whig upon the spot, and fairly abjured his father's politics and his learned poverty. His chief and relative, Mr. Scott of Harden, gave him a lease of the farm of Sandyknowe, comprehending the rocks in the centre of which Smailholm or Sandyknowe Tower is situated. He took for his shepherd an old man called Hogg, who willingly lent him, out of respect to his family, his whole savings, about thirty pounds, to stock the new farm. With this sum, which it seems was at that time sufficient for the purpose, the master and the servant set off to purchase a stock of sheep at Whitsun-Tryste, a fair held on a hill near Wooler in Northumberland. The old shepherd went carefully from drove to drove, till he found a hirsel likely to answer their purpose, and then returned to tell his master to come and conclude the bargain. But what was his surprise to see him galloping a mettled hunter about the racecourse, and to find he had expended the whole stock in this extraordinary purchase!—Moses' bargain of green spectacles did not strike more dismay into the Vicar of Wakefield's family, than my grandfather's rashness into the poor old shepherd. The thing, however, was irretrievable, and they returned without the sheep. In the course of a few days, however, my grandfather, who was one of the best horsemen of his time, attended John Scott of Harden's hounds on this same horse, and displayed him to such advantage that he sold him for double the original price. The farm was now stocked in earnest, and the rest of my grandfather's career was that of successful industry.'

The wife of this Robert Scott was Barbara Haliburton, daughter of a Berwickshire laird, whose brother was proprietor of part of the lands of Dryburgh, including the ruins of Dryburgh Abbey. Thus this rare old-world relic, unequalled in its beauty and its hallowed associations, was likely to fall into the hands of the father of Sir Walter Scott. It happened, however, that the old laird, Robert Haliburton, had a weakness for dabbling in trade, and so came to ruin himself. His Dryburgh possessions were sold, and passed for ever out of the hands of the novelist's relations. Scott seems to have felt considerable regret over this incident in his family history. There is a touching note of pathos in the remarks with which he sums it up in his Autobiography: 'And thus we have nothing left of Dryburgh, although my father's maternal inheritance, but the right of stretching our bones where mine may perhaps be laid ere any eye but my own glances over these pages.'

CHAPTER IV

Dr. Adam, Rector of High School—Walter Scott's first Lines—Influence of Adam—Persecution by Nicol—Death-scene of the Rector—Home Life in George Square—Walter Scott the 'Writer'—Anecdotes of his Character.

Very special honour, on the part of all lovers of Scott, is due to Alexander Adam, the Rector of the High School. Adam, whose text-book of Roman Antiquities continued for over a century to be used in the Scottish Grammar Schools and Universities, was not only a scholar, but a man of literary tastes and sympathies. He was ever ready to detect and encourage any sign of talent or character among the boys. It was his custom to encourage them to attempt poetical versions of Horace and Vergil. These were purely voluntary efforts, never set as tasks. Of course, such attempts had a strong attraction for Scott. Though he might not understand the Latin so well as some of his comrades, the Rector himself declared that Gualterus Scott was behind few in following and enjoying the author's meaning. His versions therefore often gained discriminating praise, and Adam ever after took much notice of the boy. It is a pleasure to find in the pages of Lockhart one of these juvenile efforts. No wonder that Adam had faith in the boy of twelve who could turn Vergil in language like this:

'In awful ruins Ætna thunders nigh,

And sends in pitchy whirlwinds to the sky

Black clouds of smoke, which, still as they aspire,

From their dark sides there bursts the glowing fire;

At other times huge balls of fire are toss'd,

That lick the stars, and in the smoke are lost;

Sometimes the mount, with vast convulsions torn,

Emits huge rocks, which instantly are borne

With loud explosions to the starry skies,

The stones made liquid as the huge mass flies,

Then back again with greater weight recoils,

While Ætna thundering from the bottom boils.'

This little piece, it seems, written in a weak, boyish scrawl, within pencilled marks still visible, had been carefully preserved by his mother; it was folded up in a cover inscribed by the old lady—'My Walter's first lines, 1782.'

Scott does full justice to the excellent influence of Dr. Adam on his character. 'I saw I was expected to do well, and I was piqued in honour to vindicate my master's favourable opinion. I climbed, therefore, to the first form; and, though I never made a first-rate Latinist, my school-fellows, and, what was of more consequence, I myself, considered that I had a character for learning to maintain. Dr. Adam, to whom I owed so much, never failed to remind me of my obligations when I had made some figure in the literary world.... He remembered the fate of every boy at his school during the fifty years he had superintended it, and always traced their success or misfortunes entirely to their attention or negligence when under his care. His "noisy mansion," which to others would have been a melancholy bedlam, was the pride of his heart; and the only fatigues he felt, amidst din and tumult, and the necessity of reading themes, hearing lessons, and maintaining some degree of order at the same time, were relieved by comparing himself to Cæsar, who could dictate to three secretaries at once:—so ready is vanity to lighten the labours of duty.' Another great man who testified the same kindly feeling towards Adam was Francis Jeffrey, who passed through his hands a few years later than Scott.

An incident in Adam's career must now be mentioned which throws a strong light on a rather seamy side of Edinburgh character at the time. Very naturally, though he had no sympathy or even acquaintance with the party politics then current, the Rector would occasionally make comparisons between the French Revolution and the events of ancient history. This led to some hostility on the part of the pupils. Then the parents took offence, and the Town Council, as patrons of the school, persecuted the good man by encouraging Nicol, one of the masters, to insult and defy him. This is the 'Willie' who was a friend of Burns, and who sorely tried the poet's patience during their tour in the Highlands. He seems to have been a good classical scholar, an 'admirable convivial humorist,' but in other respects a downright blackguard. The savage brute, taking advantage of his influence with the Council, went so far as actually to attempt the life of his chief, waylaying and attacking the poor man after dark. Nicol is one of the two masters whom Lord Cockburn mentions as the curse of the school, 'whose atrocities young men cannot be made to believe, but old men cannot forget.'

We pass from the High School and its memories with the beautiful and touching picture drawn by Scott of the death of his old master and friend: 'This (unpleasant incident) passed away with other heats of the period, and the Doctor continued his labours till about a year since, when he was struck with palsy while teaching his class. He survived a few days, but becoming delirious before his dissolution, conceived he was still in school, and after some expressions of applause or censure, he said, "But it grows dark—the boys may dismiss,"—and instantly expired.'

The home life during these school-days was very strict, but tempered by the natural outbreaks of youthful vitality. In later years it is clear that Walter regretted two things—the unnecessary gloom of Sunday at home, and the want of sympathy on the part of his father—more correctly the failure of giving expression to the feelings which were certainly there, and very deep and strong. But all the same he loved his father, and recognised to the full his splendid character. Walter Scott, the eldest son of Robert of Sandyknowe, was born in 1729. He was bred to the law, and in due time became a Writer to the Signet. Though not perhaps well fitted by nature for such a profession, he was a hard, conscientious worker, and took a special interest 'in analysing the abstruse feudal doctrines connected with conveyancing.' In fact, his high principles and earnest attachment to religion made it impossible for him to devote his whole mind to mere bargain-driving, whether for himself or others. Anything like sharpness in employing the necessities, wants, and follies of men for his own pecuniary advantage was entirely foreign to his nature. Of fighting the knaves and dastards with the petty weapons of an ignoble warfare he was as little capable as ever was his magnanimous son. In all such affairs, in that son's opinion, 'Uncle Toby himself could not have conducted himself with more simplicity than my father.' No quainter proof of this admirable simplicity could be imagined than the fact that he made a personal matter of the honour of his clients, and often embarrassed by his zeal for their credit persons whose sense of honour and duty was anything but keen. However, in those days character and honesty were still appreciated by men who did not imitate them. Mr. Scott rose to eminence in his profession, and enjoyed at one time an extensive practice. Somewhat formal in manner and a rigid Calvinist in religion, he had many little peculiarities of the rural rather than the city Scot. Thus, though very abstemious in his habits, he was fond of sociability and grew very merry over his sober glass of wine. Moderate in politics, he had a natural leaning to constitutional principles, and was jealous of modern encroachments on the royal prerogative. His weakness for established forms made him a stickler for points of etiquette at marriages, christenings, and funerals. The sweetness of his temper, the dignity and purity of his life, and the charm of his distinguished personality inspired those who knew him with singular affection for this Scottish Thomas Newcome. The best of all this might stand for the picture of the younger Walter Scott, but it is interesting to know that in features there was no resemblance between the father and the son. By a striking but not unusual freak of heredity, the latter's face was an almost perfect replica of that of his ancestor 'Beardie.'