LIBRARY University of California. Class LETTERS ON THE AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. LONDON: PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. LETTERS RICHARD HEBER, ESQ. MP. CONTAINING CRITICAL REMARKS SERIES OF NOVELS BEGINNING WITH " WAVERLEY," AN ATTEMPT TO ASCERTAIN THEIR AUTHOR. If thou be'st a man, show thyself in thy likeness : if thou be'st a devil, take 't as thou list. — Tempest, Act III. Sc. 2. SECONIif EDITION. LONDON : PRINTED FOR RODWELL AND MARTIN, BOND-STREET. 1822. A3 A CONTENTS. ^IH LETTER I. Introduction— General reasons for believing the novels to have been written by the author of Marmion . Page 1 LETTER II. Resemblance between the novelist and poet in their tastes, studies, and habits of life, as illustrated by their works — Both Scotchmen— Habitual residents in Edinburgh — Poets — Antiquaries — German and Spanish scholars — Equal in classical attainments— Deeply read in British history — Lawyers— Fond of field sports— Of dogs— ^\^ell acquainted with manly exercises — Lovers of military sub- jects—The novelist apparently not a soldier . 12 LETTER III. Subject of Letter II. continued— The noveUst is, like the poet, a man of good society— His stories never betray for- getfulness of honourable principles, or ignorance of good manners — Spirited pictures of gentlemanly character — Colonel Mannering — Judicious treatment of elevated hi-, storical personages. The novelist quotes and praises most contemporary poets, except the author of Marmion — Instances in which the 224902 VI CONTENTS. > poet has appeared to slight his own unacknowledged, but afterwards avowed productions . Page 41 LETTER IV. Comparison of the works themselves — All distinguished by- good morals and good sense— The latter particularly shewn in the management of character. — Prose style — Its general features— Plainness and facility — Grave banter — Instances — Manner of telling a short story — Negligence — Scoti- cisms— Great propriety and correctness occasionally, and sometimes unusual sweetness —Instances . 60 LETTER V. Dialogue in the novels and poems— Neat colloquial turns in the former, such as cannot be expected in romantic poetry — Happy adaptation of dialog-ue to character, whether merely natural, or artificially modified, as by profession, local habits, &c. — Instances— Faults of dialogue, as con- nected with character of speakers— Quaintness of language and thought — Bookish air in conversation — Historical per- sonages alluding to their own celebrated acts and sayings — Unsuccessful attempts at broad vulgarity — Beauties of composition peculiar to the dialogue — Terseness and spi- rit — Instances — These qualities well displayed in serious quarrels; but not in scenes of polished raillery— Elo- quence — Instances . . . .86 LETTER VI. The Poetry of the author of Marmion generally characterized — His habits of composition and turn of mind, as a poet, compared with those of the novelist — Their descriptions simply conceived and composed, without abstruse and far- fetched circumstances or refined comments — Great advan- tage derived by both writers from accidental combinations CONTENTS. ti Vll of images, and from the association of objects in the mind with persons, events, &c. — Distinctness and liveliness of effect in narrative and description — Narrative usually pic- turesque or dramatic, or both — Distinctness, &c. of effect, produced in various ways — Instances — Striking pictures of individuals — Their persons, dress, &c. — Descriptions sometimes too obviously picturesque— Subjects for painters — Effects of light frequently noticed, and finely described —Both writers excel, in grand and complicated scenes— Among detached and occasional ornaments, the Similes particularly noticed— Their frequency and beauty— In- stances— Similes and metaphors sometimes quaint, and pursued too far— Instances . . . Page 127 LETTER VII. Stories of the two writers compared— These are generally connected with true history, and have their scene laid in a real place — Local peculiarities diligently attended to— Instances in which the novelist and poet have celebrated the same places— They frequently describe these as seen by a traveller, (the hero, or some other principal personage) for the first time— Dramatic mode of relating story— Soli- loquies— Some scenes degenerate into melodrame— Lyrical pieces introduced sometimes too theatrically. Comparative unimportance of heroes— Various causes of this fault — Heroes rejected by ladies, and marrying others whom they had before slighted — Personal struggle between a civilized and a barbarous hero— Characters resembling each other — Female portraits in general— Fathers and daughters — Characters in Paul's Letters— Wycliffe and Risingham, Glossin and Hatteraick — Other characters compared. Long periods of time abruptly passed over— Surprises, unex- pected discoveries, &c.— These sometimes too forced and Vlll CONTENTS. artificial— Frequent recourse to the marvellous— Dreams well described— Living persons mistaken for spectres— Deaths of Burley, Risingham, and Rashleigh j Page 180 LETTER VIII. Comparison of particular passages— Descriptions— Miscella- neous thoughts — Instances, in which the two writers have resorted to the same sources of information, and borrowed the same incidents, &c. — Same authors quoted by both — The poet, like the novelist, fond of mentioning his con- temporaries, whether as private friends, or as men publicly distinguished— Author of Marmion never notices the au- thor of Waverley, (see Letter III.)— Both delight in fre- quently introducing an antiquated or fantastic dialect — Peculiarities of expression common to both writers— Con- clusion ...... 242 LETTERS TO RICHARD HEBER, ESQ. LETTER I. Mirantur, ut unum Scilicet egregii mortalem altique silenti. Hor. Sat. II. vi. 57. July, 1821. It is, I think, four years. Sir, since I had the good fortune to be present when the novels of Wa- verley, GuyMannering, and The Antiquary, formed the subject of a conversation, in which you parti- cipated. On the never-failing question, to what author those delightful works should be ascribed, I was gratified by hearing you advance and strongly support the same opinion which had been for some time established in my own mind. The manner in which you reviewed and illustrated the subject ren- dered it doubly interesting, and while I felt an in- creased confidence in the justness of my former con- 2 LETTERS ON THE LET. I. elusions, I became eager to confirm them, if possi- ble, beyond a doubt, by new accessions of evidence. Opportunities were quickly offered for the pursuit of this object. Another tale, another series of tales and again another series, were launched with daz- zling rapidity into the world by the same concealed and wonder-working hand. I failed not to remark in each successive production some characteristic features which sufficiently betrayed its origin : but the zeal with which I prosecuted this fanciful specu- lation was occasionally damped by the reflection that I might be wasting perseverance in pene- trating a mystery which would, perhaps, in a few more days be laid open to the public by a volun- tary announcement. But days and months of ex- pectation follow one another, and still the accom- plished unknown inexorably persists in his conceal- ment : it is even dreaded by some worthy and in- quisitive persons that the same reserved humour may descend with him to his grave ; for what limits can be assigned to that man's taciturnity, who has already kept a secret nearly seven years ? In the mean time public conjecture, which had long been unsettled and contradictory, has begun to take a more uniform and constant direction. I remember that when I had the pleasure of listening to you on this subject, you recapitulated the names and pre- tensions of several persons in whom different lite- rary parties had affected to discern the author of LET. I. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 3 Waverley. But of all these individuals there now remains only one, whose claims to that honourable title have not gradually faded into obscurity. The vague and far-fetched surmises which engaged at- tention for a time, have almost every where given place to that more probable opinion in which I had the satisfaction of concurring with you, that the historian of Waverley and Henry Bertram, of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine and Jonathan Old- buck ; that the pensive Peter Pattieson, the saga- cious Jedediah Cleishbotham, the erudite Lau- rence Templeton, and the discreet Captain Clut- terbuck, are one and the same personage with the poetical chronicler of Flodden Field and Ban- nockburn, the enchanting minstrelof Loch-Katrine, the grey-headed harper whose romantic verse be- guiled the melancholy of Monmouth's widow, and the cunning yeoman of Cumberland, who wooed a simple heiress with legends of King Arthur's knights, and carried her to Scotland between the cantos. Concluding then, that the object of our curi- osity has unkindly resolved to keep that impatient spirit at bay for an indefinite period, and observ- ing most persons inclined to adopt what I conceive to be the only plausible opinion, I have collected into one series, which I now take the liberty of sub- mitting to your consideration, those arguments which have had the greatest eifect in deciding my B 2 4f LETTERS ON THE LET. 1. own judgment, and which may serve to justify, if they did not originally assist in convincing, the many who think as I do. Some of the proofs which I propose to offer hjjve never yet, I be- lieve, been noticed; others, although they may from time to time have presented themselves to the public mind, and insensibly given it a bias toward the opinion now prevailing, have not hitherto been closely examined or distinctly stated; and even those which are most obvious and famihar will gain something in force and clearness, when systema- tically arranged, and exhibited in one view. It may at first sight appear idle and frivolous to propose the formal discussion of a subject like this ; and I am not so much impressed with the import- ance of my own labours as to feel very deeply in- terested in averting the imputation. Yet I think the trifling pains bestowed on such a task may be justified even to the most rigid inquirer after utility. It is a useful exercise of the mind to pursue any trulli through a course of circumstantial evidence; and as the proofs I am about to adduce will, in a ifreat measure, be derived from the characteristic beauties and blemishes of works deservedly ad- mired, it is surely excusable to hope that a disser- tation of this kind considered without reference to its ultimate object, and merely as an essay of com- parative criticism, will be found not wholly unin- teresting or unprofitable. LET. I. AUTHOK OF WAVERI.EY. 5 It must indeed be remembered that conjectures and speculations on any matter of fact lose all their importance as soon as that fact is positively and directly ascertained, and that on the present occasion it is in the power of one mysterious indi- vidual, by pronouncing either a broad negative or a decided affirmative, to transport my fair and hope- ful fabric of presumptions into the obscure world of things lost and forgotten. But this is a cata- strophe for which every builder of an hypothesis must hold himself prepared ; and should the monu- ment of my trivial researches be doomed to vanish from its place like Aladdin's palace, or the castle in the Vale of St. John *, I shall depart well satisfied if I hear a by-stander observe that its proportions were not ungraceful, that its parts were architec- turally combined, and its ornaments aptly selected . I will now, Sir, detain you no longer by pre- fatory observations, which are attended with the double disadvantage of exhausting patience and augmenting expectation, but hasten to my pro- posed task of identifying the author of Waverley with the author of Marmion. In making this at- tempt, my chief dependence will be, as I have al- ready intimated, on the internal evidence of their respective works. I neither have the means, nor feel much desire, to obtain information from other * Bridal of Triermain. 6 LETTERS ON THE LET. I. sources; it is not for me that hints break forth, and anecdotes transpire, and oracular whispers cir- culate ; and even if I were thus privileged, it cer- tainly is not to you that I should offer such com- munications as either novel or curious, for a packet of literary news transmitted from my hands to yours would appear almost as preposterous, to use the vul- gar similitude, as a London collier unlading in the Tyne. I would, however, suggest two or three observa- tions applying rather to the personal conduct and circumstances of the novelist and the poet, than to the character or peculiar features of the novels or poems, and which it may be as well to consider shortly by themselves in the beginning of our in- quiry. The facts I propose to touch upon are all sufficiently notorious, and may already have led many persons to draw the inferences about to be stated. If the author of Waverley be any other than the excellent poet so often alluded to, it is astonishing that he should be able to remain concealed. The various literary accomplishments and the distin- guished qualifications for society so strongly evinced in all his works, would excite observation in the most crowded community, and could not but shine con- spicuously in a narrow circle. That he has passed his latter years in seclusion, or in a remote country, or in any situation estranged from active life and LET. I. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 7 polished intercourse, is a supposition which, al- though it once obtained some countenance, must now, I think, be totally abandoned. If then we cast our eyes among those persons whose talents and acquirements have in any degree attracted ge- neral attention, how many shall we find who have given proofs of a genius, I will not say equal, but strikingly correspondent to that which has pro- duced the celebrated novels ? One such there is, but we look in vain for a second. I therefore rea- son like Prince Manfred's servants in the Castle of Otranto, who when they had seen the leg of an armed giant in the gallery, and his hand upon the staircase, concluded that this same preternatural personage was owner of the gigantic helmet which lay unclaimed in the court-yard. As concealment would be difficult under these circumstances, the desire of it, too, seems unac- countable. In an author whose name has become familiar to the public, it may be excellent policy to present himself under a mask, or like Mirabel's mistress, assail the heart of the fastidious Inconstant by stratagems and disguises. He who fearfully com- mits his first performance to the discretion of critics has intelligible motives for suppressing his name ; but it is difficult to believe that a writer who has been repeatedly crowned with public applause, who has acquired a reputation far more solid and exalted than belongs in ordinary cases to a successful 8 LETTERS ON THE LET. l. novelist, and who has never sullied it by a single page which the most religious and virtuous man would be ashamed to own, should deny himself the pleasure of receiving the popular homage in his own character, unless he had enjoyed other opportu- nities of rendering his name illustrious, and had already tasted, perhaps to satiety, the sweets of literary distinction. An author cloyed with success and secure of fame, may dally with his honours, and content himself with the refined and fanciful gratification of overhearing, as it were^ the praise of his unacknowledged labours; but this coyness would be unnatural and incomprehensible in a young or hitherto unknown adventurer. I apply to our novelist the observation which very na- turally suggested itself to Dryden's contemporaries on his anonymous publication of Absalom and Achitophel. Sure thou already art secure of fame, Nor want'st new glories to exalt thy name ; "What father else would have refused to own So great a son as god-like Absaion? Recommendatory verses, signed R. D. It is not with fine writings as with virtuous ac- tions, which of themselves reward the doer, although his merits should remain a secret to the world : a work of genius has mankind alone for its judges, and its only full and appropriate recompense is the approbation of mankind bestowed upon the author. LET. I. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 9 It is true that the internal consciousness of having excelled may often supply the place of celebrity un- justly withheld or delayed ; but where is the philo- sopher who, when he might, by a single word, se- cure to himself that dazzling prize, can patiently sit down in obscurity, and content himself with private self-congratulation ? Is such a cynic the author of Waverley ? I cannot think so. This reasoning, however, is merely drawn from the ordinary tenor of worldly transactions, and the common principles of human conduct ; and no man, of course, can pronounce it absolutely impossible that the mysterious novelist may have unguessed and peculiar motives for desiring concealment. I pre- tend only to point out probabilities ; and if I knew of a single argument wholly incontrovertible, that argument should at once begin and close the pre- sent discussion. It was just now mentioned, as a matter of sup- position, that an author who had been long before the public might from policy, or even caprice, abandon his character of an established favourite, and pursue his fortune in disguise. But have we not seeh this very stratagem put in practice and recently acknowledged, and by whom ? I need not remind you, Sir, of the distinguished name which has at length been affixed to the Bridal of Trier- main and Harold the Dauntless, for you, I remem- ber, undoubtingly ascribed the first of these poems 10 LETTERS ON THE LET. I. to its real author, when its parentage was as much a secret as that of Waverley. I might also men- tion the anonymous publication of Paul's Letters ; but I will not urge this point so confidently, as 1 do not know that there has ever been, on the one hand, any positive avowal, or on the other, any stu- dious concealment, with respect to this work. It is enough, however, to have shown by one conspicuous instance, that the mental organization of the poet, as well as of the novelist, is characterized (to speak craniologically) by an extraordinary developement of the passion for delitescency. An observation of some force when combined with those already stated, is, that the author of Marmion has neglected his poetical vein, in pro- portion as the author of Waverley has cultivated his talent for prose narration. It certainly is not to be expected that a writer should continue through life to produce metrical romances in six cantos; but there are other walks of poetry to invite his ge- nius ; and it seldom happens that an author, who has dedicated a great part of his riper years to that fascinating art, pursuing it with equal enthusiasm and success, becomes at once a truant to his muse, or at best a sparing and unfrequent votary. Again, it is scarcely less remarkable that the author of Waverley, who appears to enjoy, in a high degree, the gifts that constitute a poet, and who does not want either ambition or activity, should never (as LET. I. AUTHOR OF WAVEKLEY. 11 far as we know) have made any signal exertion to distinguish himself among the 'tuneful quire.' — This twofold mystery is simply and consistently explained by supposing that the bard has transmi- grated into the writer of novels ; and that the talent so unaccountably withdrawn from the department of lyrical composition, is now pouring out its exu- berance in another region of literature, as the foun- tain Arethusa sank under the earth in Greece and re-appeared in Sicily. 12 LETTERS ON THE LET. i] LETTER II. — — Ede quid ilium Esse putes? quemvis hominem secum attulit ad nos, Grammaticus, rhetor, geometres, pictor, aliptes. Augur, schoenobates, medicus, magus. « » * * * * ^ Ad summam, non Maurus erat, neque Sarmata, nee Thrax. Juv. Sat. HI. 74, &c. The internal evidence, Sir, which I have thought deserving of your notice, may be arranged in two classes. I will first solicit your attention to those parts of the anonymous works which afford glimpses of the personal character, the habits, studies, and occupations of their author, and shall invite you to remark with me how singularly they correspond with those of our great romantic poet, as illustrated by his avowed publications. I will then point out in the writings of these two authors, such resem- blances in sentiment, language, incident, concep- tion of character, and general dramatic arrange- ment, as in my opinion most satisfactorily prove the fraternal relation of Marmion and his compeers to that mysterious unacknowledged family, which, in their present circumstances, may be denomi- nated * The Children of the Mist.* With respect to the unknown author, I suppose LET. ir« AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 13 it would be superfluous to insist that he is a native of Scotland. He has himself informed us (in the postscript, or Penvoy, to Waverley) that he was not born a Highlander, and I think it may be gathered from his novels that, whatever spot may boast of having given him birth, a great part of his life has been passed in the city or neighbourhood of Edin- burgh. The familiarity with which he speaks of that metropolis and its environs, and of manners and customs formerly prevailing among its inha- bitants, but now obsolete, fully justifies the conjec- ture ; and his description of the walk under Salis- bury Crags, which (as he says, speaking in the per- son of Peter Pattieson,) * used to be his favourite ' evening and morning resort/ and a scene of ' de- * licious musing, when life was young, and pro- ' mised to be happy*,' can hardly have been written by any other than the ' truant boy,' who ' sought ' the nest' on Blackford Hill, and has expatiated so feelingly and beautifully on the prospect of Edinburgh f from that side, in the fourth canto of Marmion. It has been already observed, that the author of Waverley possesses, in a high degree, the qualifi- cations of a poet. His mind, in fact, seems to be habitually, as well as naturally, given to the Muse of Song. I do not now speak of detached thoughts, » Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. i. ch. 7. t * Mine own romantic town ! ' See Marmion, Canto IV. St. 23, 24, 30. U LETTERS ON THE LET. Ti. single expressions, or insulated passages ; the very conception and main structure of his stories is in some instances purely poetical. Take as an ex- ample the Bride of Lammermoor. Through the whole progress of that deeply affecting tale, from the gloomy and agitating scene of Lord Ravens- wood's funeral to the final agony and appalling death of his ill-fated heir, we experience that fer- vour and exaltation of mind, that keen suscepti- bility of emotion, and that towering and perturbed state of the imagination, which poetry alone can produce. Thus, while the events are compara- tively few, and the whole plan and conduct of the tale unusually simple, our passions are fully exer- cised and our expectation even painfully excited, by occurrences in themselves unimportant, conversa- tions without any material result, and descriptions which retard the main action. The principal cha- racter is strikingly poetical, and its effect skilfully heightened by the manner in which the subordinate figures, even those of a grotesque outline, are grouped around it. Of those interesting and highly fanciful incidents, which, although rather appendages than essential parts of the principal narrative, in fact constitute its chief beauty as a work of imagination, I need only mention, as par- ticular examples, the ominous slaughter of the raven*, the fiendish conferences between Ailsie Gourlay and her companions f, and the legend • Vol. ii. c. 7. f Vol. ii. c. 9. iii. 7, 8. LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 15 of Lord Ravenswood and the Naiad *, which con- tains in itself all the elements of a beautiful and affecting poem. I treat these as appendages, be- cause the story might be told without them ; but every one must feel that without them the story would not be worth telling. It may be suggested, that the characteristic fea- tures which I have pointed out in the Bride of Lammermoor, belong rather to the species of fiction than to the individual fable, and that all romantic tales must bear the same resemblance to poetic nar- rative, which appears, perhaps, a little more de- cidedly than usual in the instance now adduced. But the observation would not hold true, even if confined to the novels of the present author. In Waverley and Guy Mannering, for example, there are flights of imagination and strokes of passion beyond the scope of a mere prose writer ; but the poetical character does not predominate either in the general design, or in the majority of incidents, or in the agency by which those incidents are brought about. Both Waverley and Guy Man- nering might possibly, with some loss of eflPect, be thrown into verse, but neither of them is, like the Bride of Lammermoor, a tale which no man but a poet tould tell. I have dwelt long upon this work, as it ap- peared to furnish the most striking and complete » Vol. i. c. 4. 16 LETTERS ON THE LET. n. illustration of my remark on the genius of its au- thor. If other examples were required, I would point out the Introduction to Old Mortality, and the story of serjeant More M'Alpin*, both, I think, conceived in the true spirit of poetry. It seems not improbable that the Legend of Montrose was, in part, formed out of materials originally collected for a metrical romance; but the author has suc- ceeded ill in making this portion of his fable com- bine and harmonize with the rest. There appears a natural incongruity between the lofty and imagi- native, and the broad and familiar parts of the sub- ject; they may be joined, but they refuse to blend. The Monastery is liable to a similar objection : nothing can be more poetical in conception, and sometimes in language, than the fiction of the White Maid of Avenel; but when this aetherial personage, who rides on the cloud which ' for Araby is bound,' who is *' Something betwixt heaven and hell — Something that neither stood nor fell f " — whose existence is linked by an awful and myste- rious destiny to the fortunes of a decaying family ; when such a being as this descends to clownish pranks, and promotes a frivolous jest about a * Introduction to A Legend of Montrose, Tales of My Landlord, Third Series, vol. iii. t Vol. i. c. 1 1. LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 17 tailor's bodkin, the course of our sympathies is rudely arrested, and we feel as if the author had put upon us the old-fashioned pleasantry of selling a bargain. It is an unsafe thing to venture on a high poetical flight in a composition partly ludi- crous and familiar, unless some reconciling me- dium can be found to give mellowness and con- sistency to the whole. No man can be more sen- sible of this difficulty, for no man has more fre- quently triumphed over it, than the writer whom I have presumed, in the instances just cited, to pro- nounce unsuccessful. From the invention and general conduct of his stories, I might proceed to the particular passages of the novelist which betray a poet's hand. But examples of this nature are so abundant, and the best of them are so familiar even to the most neg- ligent reader, that it would be unpardonable to detain you on thi^ point. I have only then to observe, that the passages alluded to are not merely eloquent, natural, spirited, impassioned, they are nothing if not poetical. You are probably ac- quainted with Mr. Hope's Memoirs of a Greek : it is a work abounding in brilliant and often affecting composition ; it has much eloquent narrative, much highly-finished description ; but the narrative and the description are those of an accomplished prose writer. In all that he relates we see distinctly and with pleasure the object or action which the au- c }8 LETTEUS ON THE XET. II. thor places before us : but there his power ceases ; he has not the art of making a few words call up a host of images in the mind, and, by the happy sug- gestion of a single thought, transporting the reader's fancy into a world of illusion : and in this he to- tally differs from the author of Waverley, and from every true poet. But the novelist (and it serves to illustrate the habitual bent of his mind) not only indulges in poetical description, when the course of his nar- rative obviously leads to it, but discerns, as by in- stinct, and seizes with enthusiasm, every slighter opportunity which the incidents afford him for in- troducing such embellishments. Thus he compares the antics of a clownish boy escaped from his peda- gogue to the ' frisking^ of a ' goblin' by ' moon- light*.' In describing a maiden sinking under consumption, ' You would have thought,' he says, ' that the very trees mourned for her, for their * leaves dropt around her without a gust of windf .' If he puts in motion a body of soldiers, by day- light they are seen issuing from among trees, their arms glance like lightning, and the waving of ban- ners is accompanied by the clang of trumpets and kettle-drums : by night the steel-caps glitter in the moon-light, and ' the dark figures of the horses * and riders' are ' imperfectly traced through the * Kenilwortli, vol. i. c. 9. t Waverlev. vol. i. c. 4. LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 19 ' gloom *.' If a cannon is discharged from a for- tress, the castle is invested ' in wreaths of smoke, ' the edges of which dissipate slowly in the air, ' while the central veil is darkened ever and anon ' by fresh clouds poured forth from the battlements,' and the spectator reflects, ' that each explosion may 'ring some brave man's knell f." If we launch our vessel on a Highland loch, a piper makes shrill melody in the bow, or the rowers chant wild airs that float mournfully to the shore J. If we em- bark for a sea voyage, the white sails swell, the ship * leans her side to the gale, and goes roaring through ' the waves, leaving a long and rippling furrow to ' track her course ;' the port becomes undistin- guishable in the distance, and the hills melt' into the blue sky§. This is not the professional cant of a vulgar novel-maker, whose moon trembles on the sea of course, whenever his heroine touches the lute in a balcony : it is the writing of one who has always looked at objects with the eye of a poet, and unavoidably speaks of them as he sees them. There is, I think, no occasion to demonstrate that the author of Waverley is as great an anti- quary as the author of Marmion, and as deeply in- * Waverley, vol. ii. c. 25. Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. ii. c. 6. 11. t Waverley, vol. ii. c. 16. ■ X Legend of Montrose, last vol. c. 2. Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. iv- c. 9. § Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol.iv. c. 7. c2 20 LETTERS ON THE LET. II. fected witH bibliomania as the editor of Patrick Carey's Triolets. No person can have a doubt on this latter point, who remembers the description put into the mouth of Mr. Oldbuck, of a book- collector picking up a curious work at a stall, where its value is unknown*. It is an effusion from the very heart : and there can, I think, t)e no question, that the character of Monkbarns, with all its eccentricities, was originally created by the no- velist for the purpose of parading his own hobby- horse. While the Antiquary is before us, let me remark as a trifling circumstance, yet not unworthy of at- tention, that in the course of this novel (and I be- lieve not in this only) the writer makes frequent dis- play of his acquaintance with the language and literature of Germany, to which the author of Mar- mion is at least no stranger f . The poet is evidently a proficient in the Spanish tongue | ; and the no- velist quotes Cervantes in the original §. In classical learning both writers appear to have made equal and very similar acquirements: we may trace in the works of either (so far as they afford any illustration of this point) the reading of a gen- * Antiquary, vol. i. c. 3. t Sea, for instance, his translation of BUrsrer's ' L enore,' and other German ballads. Miscellaneous Poems, Edinburgh, 1820. X See Note ii. on The Vision of Don Roderick. § General motto to the Tales of My Landlord. LET. 11. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 21 tleman, though not the erudition of a professed scholar. A thorough knowledge and statesman-Hke under- standing of the domestic history and politics of Britain at various and distant periods ; a familiar acquaintance with the manners and prevailing spirit of former generations, and with the characters and habits of their most distinguished men, are of them- selves no cheap or common attainments; and it is rare indeed to find them united with a strong original genius, and great brilliancy of imagination. We know, however, that the towering poet of Flod- den^field is also the diligent editor of Swift and Dryden, of Lord Somers's Tracts, and of Sir Ralph Sadler's State Papers ; that in these and other parts of his literary career he has necessarily plunged deep into the study of British history, biography, and an- tiquities, and that the talent and activity which he brought to these researches have been warmly se- conded by the zeal and liberality of those who pos- sessed the amplest and rarest sources of informa- tion. ' The Muse found him,' as he himself said long ago, ' engaged in the pursuit of ' historical and * traditional antiquities, and the excursions which he ' has made in her company have been of a nature * which increases his attachment to his original * study *.' Are we then to suppose, that another * Advertisement to Lord Soraers's Tracts, ed. 1809. The poet's father also was ' curious in historical antiquities.' Note on Absalom and Achitophel. Dryden's Works, ed. 1808, vol. ix. p. 255, note. 22 LETTERS ON THE LET. II. writer has combined the same powers of fancy with the same spirit of investigation, the same per- severance, and the same good fortune ? and shall we not rather believe, that the labour employed in the illustration of Dryden has helped to fertilize the invention which produced Montrose and Old Mortality? However it may militate against the supposition of his being a poet, I cannot suppress my opinion, that our novelist is a " man of law." He deals out the peculiar terms -and phrases of that science (as practised in Scotland*), with a freedom and confidence beyond the reach of any uninitiated per- son. If ever, in the progress of his narrative, a legal topic presents itself (which very frequently happens), he neither declines the subject, nor timidly slurs it over, but enters as largely and formally into all its technicalities, as if the case were actually ' before the fifteen.' The manners, humours, and professional bavardage of lawyers, are sketched with all the ease and familiarity which result from habitual observation : witness the two barristers at Gandercleugh, in the Introduction to the Heart of Mid-Lothian, and the more finished character of Paulus Pleydell, in Guy Mannering. There is much lawyer-like cleverness in the conference of * lie has more than once incurred the reproach of incorrectness in his allusions to English law ; but this, it must be remembered, is in a great measure foreign ground to a Northern practitioner. LET. II. AUTHOK OF WAVERLEY. 23 Sharpitlaw and RatclifFe with Madge Wildfire*, where the procurator's clumsy question cuts short the fine-spun thread of his confederate's cross- examination. The trial of Effie Deans, though it contains many powerful and strongly affecting passages, is upon the whole impaired in its effect by the diffuseness and particularity, and the air of technical facility with which the proceedings are related : and I believe it is no new complaint that Mr. Bartholine Saddletree, the legal ama- teur, is on some occasions too liberal of his te- diousness. In fact, the subject of law, which is a stumbling-block to others, is to the present WTiter a spot of repose; upon this theme he lounges and gossips, he is discinctus et soleatus, and, at times, almost forgets that when an author finds himself at home and perfectly at ease, he is in great danger of falling asleep. If then my inferences are correct, the un- known writer who was just now proved to be an excellent poet, must also be pronounced a fol- lower of the law : the combination is so unusual, at least on this side of the Tweed, that, as Ju- venal says on a different occasion. bimembri Hoc monstrum puero, vel mirandis sub aratro Piscibus inventis, et foetae compare mulae.'' Sat. XIII. 1. G4, &c. • Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. ii. ch. 4. 24? LETTERS ON THE LET. II. Nature has indeed presented us with one such prodigy in the author of Marmion; and it is pro- bable, that in the author of Waverley, we only see the same specimen under a different aspect; for, however sportive the goddess may be, she has too much wit and invention to wear out a frolic by many repetitions. A striking characteristic of both writers is their ardent love of rural sports, and all manly and ro- bust exercises. I need not remind you how many animated pictures they have given of the chase in almost all its varieties. Stag-hunting*, and the dangerous pastime of the tinchel f; the chase of the fox, both on horseback, and in the Liddesdale fashion, on foot;}:; and the picturesque * salmon- hunt' by torch-light §, are described sometimes with the technical minuteness, but always with the en- thusiasm of a sworn sportsman. The terms and phrases appropriate to these and other sylvan ex- ercises, are continually used with an almost osten- tatious familiarity : and the qualities of dogs and horses are touched upon with as much liveliness and discrimination as if the novelist or the poet had never felt an interest in any other object. * See particularly, The Lady of the Lake, Canto I. St. 1 to 1 ; and The Bride of Lammermoor, vol. i. ch. 8. \ Waverley, vol. ii. ch, 1. X Rob Roy, vol. i. ch. 5, 7. Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 4. $ Id. ibid. ch. 5. And see Miscellaneous Poems, Edinburgh, 1820. p 153. LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 25 But the importance given to the canine race in these works ought to be noted as a characteristic feature by itself. I have seen some drawings by a Swiss artist, who was called the Raphael of cats ; and either of the writers before us might by a similar phrase be called the Wilkie of dogs. Is it neces- sary to justify such a compliment by examples ? Call Yarrow, or Lufra, or poor Fangs, Colonel Man- nering's Plato, Henry Morton's Elphin, or Hobbie Elliot's Killbuck, or Wolf of Avenel Castle : — see Fitz-James's hounds returning from the pursuit of the lost stag — " Back limped with slow and crippled pace The sulky leaders of the chase — " Lady of the Lake, Canto T. St. 10. or swimming after the boat which carries their Master — " With heads erect and whimpering cry The hounds behind their passage ply." Ibid. St. 24. See Captain Clutterbuck's dog quizzing him when he missed a bird*, or the scene of ' mutual ' explanation and remonstrance' between ' the ve- ' nerable patriarchs old Pepper and Mustard,' and Henry Bertram's rough terrier Wasp f . If these * Monastery, Introduction. t Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 3. ^e LETTERS ON THE LET. II. instances are not sufficient, turn to the English blood- hound, assailing the young Buccleugh — " And hark ! and hark ! the deep-mouthed bark Comes nigher still and nigher j Bursts on the path a dark blood -hound. His tawny muzzle tracked the ground. And his red eye shot fire. Soon as the wildered child saw he. He flew at him right furiouslie. I ween you would have seen with joy The bearing of the gallant boy, When, worthy of his noble sire. His wet cheek glowed 'twixt fear and ire! He faced the blood-hound manfully. And held his little bat on high ; So fierce he struck, the dog, afraid. At cautious distance hoarsely bayed. But still in act to spring." * Lai/ of the Last Minstrel, Canto HI. St. 15. Or Lord Ronald's deer-hounds, in the haunted forest of Glenfinlas : ** Within an hour return'd each hound ; In rush'd the rouzers of the deer 3 They howl'd in melancholy sound. Then closely couch beside the seer. No Ronald yet j though midnight came. And sad were Moy's prophetic dreams. As, bending o'er the dying flame. He fed the watch-fire's quivering gleams. Sudden the hounds erect their ears. And sudden cease their moaning howl j LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 27 Close press'd to Moy, they mark their fears By shivering limbs, and stifled growl. Untouch'd, the harp began to ring. As softly, slowly, oped the door," &c. Gleiifinlas. Border Minstrelsy, Vol. III. Part 3. Or look at Cedric the Saxon, in his antique hall, attended by his grey-hounds and slow-hounds, and the terriers which ' waited with impatience the ' arrival of the supper; but with the sagacious know- ' ledge of physiognomy peculiar to their race, for- ' bore to intrude upon the moody silence of their * master.' To complete the picture, ' One grisly « old wolf-dog alone, with the liberty of an indulged ' favourite, had planted himself close by the chair * of state, and occasionally ventured to solicit notice * by putting his large hairy head upon his master's ' knee, or pushing his nose into his hand. Even ' he was repelled by the stern command, ^ Down, * Balder, down ! I am not in the humour for « foolery*/' Another animated sketch occurs in the way of simile. * The interview between RatclifFe and Sharpitlaw < had an aspect different from all these. They sate * for five minutes silent, on opposite sides of a small * table, and looked fixedly at each other, wdth a ' sharp, knowing, and alert cast of countenance, * Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 3. 28 LETTERS ON THE LET. ii. ' not unmingled with an inclination to laugh, and ' resembled, more than any thing else, two dogs, * who, preparing for a game at romps, are seen to ' couch down, and remain in that posture for a little * time, watching each other's movements, and wait- ' ing which shall begin the game *.' Let me point out a still more amusing study of canine life : * While the Antiquary was in full de- ' clamation, Juno, who held him in awe, according ' to the remarkable instinct by which dogs instantly ' discover those who like or dislike them, had peeped ' several times into the room, and, encountering * nothing very forbidding in his aspect, had at length ' presumed to introduce her full person, and finally, ' becoming bold by impunity, she actually ate up ' Mr. Oldbuck's toast, as, looking first at one, then ' at another of his audience, he repeated with self- ' complacence, '^ Weave the warp, and weave the woof, — " * * You remember the passage in the Fatal Sisters, ' which, by the way, is not so fine as in the original < — But, hey-day ! my toast has vanished \ I see « which way — Ah, thou type of womankind, no * wonder they take offence at thy generic appella- ' tion 1 ' — (So saying, he shook his fist at Juno, who ' scoured out of the parlour.)' — Antiquary, Vol. in. ch, 1. * Heart of Mid- Lothian, vol. ii. ch. 4. LET. II. AUTHOR OE. WAVERLEY. 29 It may be remarked throughout these works, that wherever it is possible for a dog to contribute in any way to the effect of a scene, we find there the very dog that was required, in his proper place and attitude. In Branksome Hall, when the feast '' The stag-hounds, weary with the chase. Lay stretched upon the rushy floor. And urged, in dreams, the forest race From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor. Lay of the last Minstrel, Canto I. St. 2. The gentle Margaret, when she steals secretly from the castle, " Pats the shaggy blood- hound As he rouses him up from his lair." Ibid. Canto II. St. 26. When Waverley visits the Baron of Bradwardine, in his concealment at Janet Gellatley's, Ban and Buscar play their parts in every point with perfect discretion; and in the joyous company that as- sembles at Little Veolan, on the Baron's enlarge- ment, these honest animals are found ' stuiFed to ' the throat with food, in the liberality of Mac- ' wheeble's joy,' and, * snoring on the floor*.' In the perilous adventure of Henry Bertram at Por- tanferry gaol, the action would lose half its interest, * Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 15, 18. 30 LETTERS ON THE leT. Ii. without the by-play of little Wasp *. At the funeral ceremony of Duncraggan (in the Lady of the Lake), a principal mourner is " Stumah, who, the bier beside. His master's corpse with wonder eyed ; Poor Stumah I whom his least halloo Could send like lightning o'er the dew." Lady of the Lake, Canto III. St. l7. Ellen Douglas smiled (or did not smile) '' to see the stately drake. Lead forth his fleet upon the lake. While her vexed spaniel, from the beach. Bayed at the prize beyond his reach.'' Ibid. Canto II. St. 5. I will close this growing catalogue of examples with one of the most elegant descriptions that ever sprang from a poet's fancy : •' Delightful praise ! — like summer-rose. That brighter in the dew-drop glows, The bashful maiden's cheek appeared. For Douglas spoke and Malcolm heard. The flush of shamefaced joy to hide. The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide 5 The loved caresses of the maid The dogs with crouch and whimper paid; And, at her whistle, on h^ hand The falcon took his favourite stand. Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye. Nor, thougii unhooded, sought to fly." Lady if the Lake, Canto II. St. 24. • Guy Mannering, vol. iii ch 9. LET. TI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 31 To return from this digression, and resume the subject of manly exercises. The ancient pastime of archery is described in the novels and poems with great liveliness and precision. We are presented, in Ivanhoe, with a somewhat elaborate account of a match at quarter-staff*. The most difficult evo- lutions of horsemanship are treated of with fami- liarity, and often in the appropriate technical terms ; and they every where furnish abundance of spirited and picturesque description. The admirable ma- nagement of the single combats (it is enough to mention those of Fitz- James with Roderic Dhuf, of Rashleigh with Francis Osbaldistone J, and of Glendinning with sir Piercie Shaftong), implies more than a novice's acquaintance with the use of the sword. Neither the poet nor the novelist makes a frequent parade of nautical science; but when the sail is spread to the sea-breeze, or the oar dips lightly into a glassy lake, both writers appear to enter on an old and well-known scene of hardy en- joyment. And ' for the land service,' let me refer you to one passage, apparently written with the warmth of pleasurable recollection. ' Dr. Johnson * thought life had few things better than the ex- * citation produced by being whirled rapidly along ♦ Vol. i. ch. 11. t Lady of the Lake, Canto V. St. 14 to 16. i Rob Roy, vol. ii. ch. 1 2. § Monastery, vol. ii. ch. 7. 32 LETTERS ON THE LET. ii. * in a post-chaise ; but he who has in youth ex- ' perienced the confident and independent feeling ' of a stout pedestrian in an interesting country, * and during fine weather, will hold the taste of the ' great moralist cheap in comparison. — Guy Man- neringf Vol. II. Ch. 1. I do not infer from passages of this nature that their authors have actually engaged in all the sports and attained proficiency in all the exer- cises described; but on the other hand it cannot be believed that either the novels or the poems were composed by any person who had not in the course of his past life acquired some practical knowledge of sylvan and athletic diversions, and entered into them with enthusiasm. The author of Marmion has given frequent intimations of his ardent and long-cherished attachment to these pursuits. Thus, in the introductory epistles annexed to that poem, he asks of one friend, *' Remember'st thou my grey-hounds true ? O'er holt, or hill, there never flew, From slip, or leash, there never sprang More fleet of foot, or sure of fang." Introduction to Canto II. He reminds another of the time when " Riding side by side, our hand First drew the voluntary brandy" (* the days,* I presume, ' of the zealous volunteer LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLF.Y. 33 service,' mentioned by the author of Waverley, ' when the bar-gown of our pleaders was often ' flung over a blazing uniform *,') — the time when *' — Grave discourse might intervene — Of the good horse that bore him best, His shoulder, hoof, and arching crest : For, like mad Tom's, our chiefest care Was horse to ride, and weapon wear." Introduction to Canto IV. And in one of his minor poems, ' written," as he says, ' after a week's shooting and fishing,' he celebrates with enthusiasm the hardy sports of Ettrick Forest f . Their passion for martial subjects, and their suc- cess in treating them, form a conspicuous point of resemblance between the novelist and poet. No writer has appeared in our age (and few have ever existed) who could vie with the author of Marmion in describing battles and marches, and all the ter- rible grandeur of war, except the author of Wa- verley. Nor is there any man of original genius and powerful inventive talent as conversant with the military character, and as well schooled in tac- tics as the author of Waverley, except the author of Marmion. Both seem to exult in camps, and to warm at the approach of a soldier. In every warlike scene that awes and agitates, or dazzles and inspires, the poet triumphs ; but where any effect is * Waverley, vol. i. ch. 1 0. f Miscellaneous Poems. Edinburgh, 1820. Page 153. D 34 LETTERS ON THE LET. II. to be produced by dwelling on the minutiae of mi- litary habits and discipline, or exhibiting the blended hues of individual humour and professional pecu- liarity, as they present themselves in the mess-room or the guard- room, every advantage is on the side of the novelist. I might illustrate this position by tracing all the gradations of character marked out in the novels, from the Baron of Bradvs^ardine to Tom Halliday: but the examples are too well known to require enumeration, and too generally admired to stand in need of panegyric. Both writers, then, must have bestowed a greater attention on military subjects, and have mixed more frequently in the society of soldiers, than is usual with persons not educated to the profession of arms. And without presuming to inquire into the private connexions and intimacies of our admired lyric poet, I may at least observe that the rich and ani- mated pictures of martial life in Old Mortality and tfie Legend of Montrose are exactly such as might have been expected from a man of genius, who had recently conversed with the triumphant warriors of Waterloo on the field of their achievements, and commemorated those achievements both in verse and in prose *. • It may not perliaps be strictly justifiable to assume without ar- gument, that Paul's Letters and the Field of Waterloo are written by the same author ; but the illustrations to be drawn from the Letters are so few, and comparatively unimportant, that I have not thought it necessary to trouble you with any preliminary discussion on this point. LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVEKLEY. 35 It may be asked why we should take for granted that the writer of these novels is not himself a mem- ber of the military profession ? The conjecture is a little improbable if we have been right in con- cluding that the minuteness and multiplicity of our author's legal details are the fruit of his own study and practice; although the same person may cer- tainly, at different periods of life, put on the helmet and the wig, the gorget and the band ; attend courts and lie in trenches, head a charge and lead a cause. I cannot help suspecting, however^ (it is with much diffidence I venture the remark), that in those warlike recitals which so strongly interest the great body of readers, an army critic would discover several particulars that savour more of the amateur than of the practised campaigner. It is not from any technical improprieties (if such exist) that I derive this observation, but, on the contrary, from a too great minuteness and over curious diligence, at times perceptible in the military details ; which, amidst a seeming fluency and familiarity, betray, I think, here and there, the lurking vestiges of labour and contrivance, like the marks of pick-axes in an artificial grotto. The accounts of operations in the field, if not more circumstantial than a pro- fessional author would have made them, are occa- sionally circumstantial on points which such an author would have thought it idle to dwell upon. A writer who derived his knowledge of war from ex- 36 LETTERS ON THE LET. 11. perience would, no doubt, like the author of Waver- ley, delight in shaping out imaginary manoeuvres, or in filling up the traditional outhne of those mar- tial enterprises and conflicts, which have found a place in history ; perhaps , too, he would dwell on these parts of his narrative a little longer than was strictly necessary. But in describing (for example) the advance of a party of soldiers, threatened by an ambuscade, he would scarcely deem it worth while to relate at large that the captain ' reformed his ' line of march, commanded his soldiers to unsling ' their firelocks and fix their bayonets, and formed ' an advanced and rear-guard, each consisting of a * non-commissioned officer and two privates, who ' received strict orders to keep an alert look out :' or that when the enemy appeared, ' he ordered the ' rear-guard to join the centre, and both to close ' up to the advance, doubling his files, so as to oc- * cupy with his column the whole practicable part * of the road*,' &c. Again, in representing a de- feated corps retiring and pressed by the enemy, he would probably never think of recording (as our novelist does in his incomparable narrative of the engagement at Drumclog f) that the commanding officer gave such directions as these — ' Let Allan * form the regiment, and do you two retreat up the ' hill in two bodies, each halting alternately as the * Rob Roy, vol. hi. ch. S. t Tales of mv Landlord, First Series, vol. iii. ch. 3. LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 37 * Other falls back. I '11 keep the rogues in check ' with the rear-guard, making a stand and facing ' from time to time.' I do not oiFer these observa- tions for the purpose of depreciating a series of military pictures which have never been surpassed in richness, animation, and distinctness ; I will own, too, that such details as I have pointed out are the fittest that could be selected for the generality of novel-readers; I merely contend that a writer practically acquainted with war would either have passed over these circumstances as too common to require particular mention, or if he had thought it necessary to enlarge upon these, would have dwelt with proportionate minuteness on incidents of a less ordinary kind, which the recollections of a soldier would have readily supplied, and his imagination would have rested on with complacency. He would, in short, have left as little undone for the military, as the present author has for the legal part of his narratives. But the most ingenious writer, who attempts to discourse with technical familiarity on arts or pursuits with which he is not habitually con- versant, will too surely fall into a superfluous par- ticularity on common and trivial points, propor- tioned to his deficiency in those nicer details which imply practical knowledge. I cannot better illus- trate this remark than by quoting the description of a fox-chase given by an excellent writer, but a lady, who probably never made her observations on this exercise in person. 38 LETTERS ON THE LET. II. ' Count CHalloran now turned the conversation ' to field-sports, and then the captain and major ' opened at once. ' * Pray now, sir ?' said the major, you fox-hunt ' in this country, I suppose; and now do you ma- ' nage the thing here as we do ? Over night, ' you know, before the hunt, when the fox is out, * stopping up the earths of the cover we mean to ' draw, and all the rest for four miles round. Next ' morning we assemble at the cover's side, and the ' huntsman throws in the hounds. The gossip here ' is no small part of the entertainment : but as soon ' as we hear the hounds give tongue — ' ' ' The favourite hounds,' interposed William- * son. — * The favourite hounds, to be sure,' conti- ' nued Benson ; * there is a dead silence, till pug is ' well out of cover, and the whole pack well in ; ^ then cheer the hounds with tally-ho ! till your ' lungs crack. Away he goes in gallant style, and * the whole field is hard up, till pug takes a stiff ' country : then they who haven't pluck lag, see no ' more of him, and, with a fine blazing scent, there ' are but few of us in at the death.' * ' Well, we are fairly in at the death, I hope," * said Lady Dashfort: ' I was thrown out sadly at 'one time in the chase." — Talcs of Fashionable Life. Absentee, ch. 8. In this description all the circumstances are (as far as I know) correctly given, and the phrases properly applied; the whole has no doubt been LET. II. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 39 compiled with great care, and I cannot find that the writer has omitted any material part of the trans- action, except, perhaps, that the horses are pre- viously saddled and bridled. But is it not morally impossible that any real sportsman could have pre- vailed upon himself thus to write down the com- monest incidents, the merest matters of course in a day's fox-hunting, with all the studious formality of a traveller describing the chase of a rhinoceros ? This impropriety is the more glaring in the passage just quoted, as the recital is supposed to be made by a frequenter of the chase, and to a person who also appears well acquainted with rural diversions. Where the novelist addresses himself directly to his reader, as in the first two examples from the author of Waverley, he may stand excused for being a little too explicit; but the same inference may be drawn in both cases with respect to his per- sonal experience. The technical allusions with which this writer has adorned the conversation of his soldiers, particularly in Old Mortality, are open to a similar reproach. They have an artificial, studied air, the more re- markable as the dialogues in which they occur are in other respects very natural and characteristic. ' A fair challenge, by Jove, and from two at once, * but if s not easy to bang the soldier with his ban- * deliers.' ' Halt a bit, halt a bit, rein up and par- ' ley, Jenny.' ' If Claverhouse hears what I have 40 LETTERS ON THE LET. IT. ' done, he will build me a horse as high as the Tower * of Tillietudlem.' * And if I were trusting to you, * you little jilting devil, I should lose both pains ' and powder .'' ' But be ready, when I call at the * door, to start, as if they were sounding ' horse ' and away ^S ' These and other such phrases are dealt out, I think, with a quaintness hardly befitting the characters to which they are assigned ; they ap- pear ' thinly scattered to make up a show,' neither stealing from the author's pen, like involuntary escapes of a lurking professional pedantry, nor crowding on his page, like the salt-water rhetoric of Smollett's sailors, with a broad luxuriance and overwhelming profusion which defy all criticism, and exclude every doubt of the writer having * learned his lore 'f,' by early and continued lessons in the school of actual life. * Tales of my Landlord, First Series, vol. ii. eh. I(). t Milton. LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 41 LETTER III. Scindit se nubes, et in aethera purgat apertum. Restitit ^neas, claraque in luce refulsit. Virg. JEn. 1.591,2. Tlie prince of darkness is a gentleman. Khig Lear, Act III. Sc. 4. Another point of resemblance between the au- thor of VVaverley and him of Flodden Field is, that both are unquestionably men of good society. Of the anonymous writer I infer this from his works ; of the poet it is unnecessary to deduce such a cha- racter from his writings, because they are not ano- nymous. I am the more inclined to dwell upon this merit in the novelist, on account of its rarity ; for among the whole multitude of authors, well or ill educated, who devote themselves to poetry, or to narrative or dramatic fiction, how few are there who give any proof in their works of the refined taste, the in- stinctive sense of propriety, the clear spirit of ho- nour, nay, of the familiar acquaintance with con- ventional forms of good breeding, which are essen- tial to the character of a gentleman ! Even of the small number who, in a certain degree, possess these qualifications, how rarely do we find one who can 42 LETTERS ON THE LET. III. so conduct his fable, and so order his dialogue throughout, that nothing shall be found either re- pugnant to honourable feelings, or inconsistent with polished manners ! How constantly, even in the best works of fiction, are we disgusted with such offences against all good principle, as the reading of letters by those for whom they were not intended ; taking advantage of accidents to overhear private conversation; revealing what in honour should have remained secret; plotting against men as enemies, and at the same time making use of their services; dishonest practices on the passions and sensibilities of women by their admirers ; falsehoods, not always indirect ; and an endless variety of low artifices, which appear to be thought quite legitimate if carried on through subordinate agents ! And all these knaveries are assigned to characters which the reader is expected to honour with his sympathy, or at least to receive into favour before the story concludes. The sins against propriety in manners are as fre- quent and as glaring. I do not speak of the hoy- den vivacity, harlot tenderness, and dancing-school affability, with which vulgar novel-writers always deck out their countesses and principessas, che- valiers, dukes, and marquisses; but it would be easy to produce, from authors of a better class, abundant instances of bookish and laborious plea- santry, of pert and insipid gossip or mere slang, the LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 43 wrecks, perhaps, of an obsolete fashionable dialect, set down as the brilliant conversation of a witty and elegant society : incredible outrages on the common decorum of life, represented as traits of eccentric humour; familiar raillery pushed to downright rudeness ; affectation or ill-breeding over-coloured so as to become insupportable insolence ; extrava- gant rants on the most delicate topics indulged in before all the world ; expressions freely inter- changed between gentlemen, which, by the cus- toms of that class, are neither used nor tolerated; and quarrels carried on most bombastically and abusively, even to mortal defiance, without a thought bestowed upon the numbers, sex, nerves or discretion of the bystanders. You will perceive that in recapitulating the of- fences of other writers, I have pronounced an indi- rect eulogium on the author of Waverley. No man, I think, has a clearer view of what is just and ho- nourable in principle and conduct, or possesses in a higher degree that elegant taste, and that chivalrous generosity of feeling, which, united with exact judg- ment, give an author the power of comprehending and expressing, not merely the right and fit, but the graceful and exalted in human action. As an illustration of these remarks, a somewhat homely one, perhaps, let me call to your recollection the incident, so wdld and extravagant in itself, of Sir Piercie Shafton's elopement with the miller's daugh- 44 LETTERS ON THE LET. III. ter *. In the address and feeling with which the author has displayed the high-minded delicacy of Queen Elizabeth's courtier to the unguarded village nymph, in his brief reflections arising out of this part of the narrative, and indeed in his whole con- ception and management of the adventure, I do not know whether the moralist or the gentleman is most to be admired : it is impossible to praise too warmly either the sound taste, or the virtuous sentiment which have imparted so much grace and interest to such a hazardous episode. I believe it may be generally affirmed, on a review of all the six and thirty volumes in which this au- thor has related the adventures of some twenty or more heroes and heroines (without considering se- cond-rate personages) that there is n5t an unhand- some action or degrading sentiment recorded of any person who is recommended to the full esteem of the reader. To be blameless on this head is one of the strongest proofs a writer can give of honourable principles implanted by education and refreshed by good society. The correctness in morals is scarcely more re- markable than the refinement and propriety in man- ners, by which these novels are distinguished. Where the character of a gentleman is introduced, we ge- nerally find it supported without affectation or con- straint, and often with so much truth, animation, • Monastery, vol. iii. ch. 3, 4. LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 45 and dignity, that we forget ourselves into a longing to behold and converse with the accomplished crea- ture of imamnation. It is true that the volatile and elegant man of wit and pleasure, and the gracefully- fantastic petite-maitresse, are a species of character scarcely ever attempted, and even the few sketches we meet with in this style are not worthy of so great a master. But the aristocratic country gentleman, the ancient lady of quality, the gallant cavalier, the punctilious young soldier, and the jocund veteran whose high mind is mellowed, not subdued by years, are drawn with matchless vigour, grace, and refine- ment. There is, in all these creations, a spirit of gentility, not merely of that negative kind which avoids giving offence, but of a strong, commanding, and pervading quality, blending unimpaired with the richest humour and wildest eccentricity, and communicating an interest and an air of originality to characters which, without it, would be wearisome and insipid, or would fade into common-place. In Waverley, for example, if it were not for this pow- erful charm, the severe, but warm-hearted Major Melville and the generous Colonel Talbot would become mere ordinary machines for carrying on the plot, and Sir Everard, the hero of an episode that might be coveted by Mackenzie*, would en- counter the frowns of every impatient reader, for unprofitably retarding the story at its first outset. * Vol. i. ch. 2. 46 LETTERS ON THE LET. III. But without dwelling on minor instances, I will refer you at once to the character of Colonel Man- nering, as one of the most striking representations I am acquainted with, of a gentleman in feelings and in manners, in habits, taste, predilections; nay, if the expression may be ventured, a gentleman even in prejudices, passions, and caprices. Had it been less than all I have described; had any refinement, any nicety of touch been wanting, the whole por- trait must have been rude, common, and repulsive, hardly distinguishable from the moody father and domineering chieftain of every hackneyed romance- writer. But it was no vulgar hand that drew the lineaments of Colonel Mannering: no ordinary mind could have conceived that exquisite com- bination of sternness and sensibility, injurious haughtiness and chivalrous courtesy ; the prompti- tude, decision, and imperious spirit of a military disciplinarian; the romantic caprices of an un- tameable enthusiast; generosity impatient of limit or impediment; pride scourged, but not subdued by remorse; and a cherished philosophical severity maintaining ineffectual conflicts with native ten- derness and constitutional irritability. Supposing that it had entered into the thoughts of an inferior writer to describe a temper of mind at once impe- tuous, kind, arrogant, affectionate, stern, sensitive, deliberate, fanciful ; supposing even that he had had the skill to combine these different qualities har- LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 47 moniously and naturally, yet how could he have attained the Shaksperian felicity of those delicate and unambitious touches, by which this author shapes and chisels out individual character from general nature, and imparts a distinct personality to the creature of his invention ? Such are (for example) the slight tinge of super- stition, contracted by the romantic young Astro- loger in his adventure at Ellangowan, not wholly effaced in maturer life, and extending itself by con- tagion to the mind of his daughter * ; his mysterious longing, after many eventful years, to revisit the scene of his youthful prophecy -f- ; his elegant ac- complishments, concealed with haughty shyness from the observation of his subalterns in the Indian garrison | ; and the mixture of pride, caprice, and generosity, which would not permit even a mis- shapen dog to be treated with ridicule, when he had taken it under his protection §. Add to these instances, the well painted triumph of nervous im- patience over dignity and self-control, when the Colonel is expecting his unknown visitors from Portanferry. He ' had given some directions to his confi- * dential servant. When he returned, his ab- * sence of mind, and an unusual expression of < thought and anxiety upon his features, struck the * Vol i. ch. 17. t Ibid. ch. 19. t Ibid. ch. 21. § Vol. ii. ch. 8. 48 LETTERS ON THE LET. III. ' ladies whom he joined in the drawing-room. ' Mannering was not, however, a man to be ques- * tioned, even by those whom he most loved, upon * the mental agitation which these signs expressed. ' The hour of tea arrived, and the party were par- ' taking of that refreshment in silence, when a car- ' riage drove up to the door, and the bell announced * the arrival of a visitor. ' Surely,' said Manner- ' ing, ' it is too soon by some hours.' — ' While the ' old gentleman, pleased with Miss Mannering's ' liveliness and attention, rattled away for her ' amusement and his own, the impatience of Co- ' lonel Mannering began to exceed all bounds. He ' declined sitting down at table, under pretence that ' he never eat supper ; and traversed the parlour in ' which they were, with hasty and impatient steps, * now throwing up the window to gaze upon the ' dark lawn, now listening for the remote sound of « the carriage advancing up the avenue. At length, ' in a feeling of uncontroulable impatience, he left « the room, took his hat and cloak, and pursued his ' walk up the avenue, as if his so doing would hasten ' the approach of those whom he desired to see.' — Vol III. c. 10. It is by the repetition of such strokes as these, re- fined, yet simple, unforeseen, yet obviously natural, and appearing, when once observed, inseparable from the character, that fictitious portraits assume an air of biograpl^ical truth : thus it is that the *^- LET. in. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 49 heroes of Shakspeare present themselves to our minds, and are referred to in conversation, not as specimens of a class, as tyrants, soldiers, philoso- phers, but as individual persons, Macbeth or John, Caius Marcius or Hotspur, Jaques or Hamlet. To connect these remarks with that part of the . subject from which they have a little diverged ; although the character of Colonel Mannering is traced with so much energy and minuteness, and distinguished by so many well-conceived peculi- arities, it is always dignified and commanding, and he presents himself under all circumstances with the undoubted demeanour of a gentleman. Indeed, I think, a reference to acknowledged models will warrant the remark, that it is not possible to pre- sent any lively representation of gentlemanly cha- racter, unless the picture of the man be highly finished, and enriched with those natural touches which give determinate expression, and the efifect of reality. . Hence it is, that in many novels and plays of considerable merit, the polite and dignified personages are looked upon with indifference by the reader, not from any want of elegance, but from the vagueness and insipid generality with which they are delineated, conveying no idea of any po- sitive quality, and furnishing no point upon which the imagination can lay hold. The character I have thus long dwelt upon is displayed in such frequent and vigorous action, and under so many 50 LETTERS ON THE LET. HI. powerful impulses, as to awaken the strongest in- terest, and yet never loses in elevation or refine- ment what it gains in energy : the matured military gentleman is still present to our minds, nay, the image is more distinct, when Mannering, with generous indignation, and eyes that ' flash dark light,' threatens the robust and insolent lawyer to hurl him at one step down EUangowan terrace, if he continue to affront his dying benefactor * ; when he humours the quaint frolic of Paulus Pleydell and his companions, at ' High Jinks f ;' and even in that moment of exquisite embarrassment, when, confronted in his own house by the injured cadet Brown, returned, as it seems, from an untimely foreign grave, he struggles ' between his high sense ' of courtesy and hospitality, his joy at finding him- * self relieved from the guilt of having shed life in a * private quarrel, and the former feelings of dislike ' and prejudice, which revive in his haughty mind ' at the sight of the object against whom he once ' entertained them f .' To the review I have taken of this author's me- rits as a writer of good society, it is only necessary to add, that when he brings upon the scene any dig- nified or illustrious personage, already celebrated in history or tradition, the character is almost always supported with the propriety, good taste, and know- ledge of the world, displayed on similar occasions * Vol. i. ch. 13. t Vol. ii. ch. 15. \ Vol. iii. ch. 1 J. LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 51 by the author of Marmion. Both are equally fond of gracing their stories with distinguished names, and both usually avoid with great discretion the two opposite faults which alike betray the uninformed or injudicious writer, when he ventures on this lofty ground, formality and coarseness. They do not, on the one hand, ' tickle ye for a young prince, ' i'faith,' in FalstafF's mode*, or assign to a mon- arch and his courtiers the colloquial and practical jests of a party of reapers at harvest-home, like an author in many instances admirable, in some unique, but, in this respect, palpably mistaken, the Ettrick Shepherd : nor, on the contrary, do they put huma- nity out of countenance with those demure, grace- fully-bowing, languidly- smiling, old-maidish auto- matons, which lady novelists delight in as the beau ideal of princely gallantry ; or with the quaint, moody, striding, motioning, cloudy-fronted fantoc- cini that domineer at Hookham's and Colburn's, under the names of renowned sovereigns, sages, cap- tains, and politicians. In the tales now before us, hi- storical characters do not appear, as in other works of the kind, perpetually fluttered with a conscious- ness of their own importance, and oppressed with anticipations of the figure they are to make in Frois- sart or Monstrelet, in Brantome or Davila or Thua- nus They are not, in short, represented conform- ably to the instructions of M. De Piles to portrait- * First Part of rlenry IV. Act II. Sc. 1. E 2 52 LETTERS ON THE LET. III. painters, in a passage which appears to have been assiduously studied by many of our historical ro- mance-writers. ' Jl faut que les portraits semblent nous parler * d'eux memes, et nous dire, par exemple : Tien, re- * garde moi, je suis ce Roi invincible environne de ' majeste. Je suis ce valeureux Capitaine qui porte ' la terreur par tout, ou bien qui ai fait voir par ma ' bonne conduite tant de glorieux succes : je suis ce ' grand Ministre qui ai connu tous les ressorts de la * politique : je suis ce Magistrat d'une sagesse et ' d'une integrite consommee : je suis cet homme de ' lettres tout absorbe dans les sciences : je suis cet ' homme sage et tranquille, que I'amour de la philo- ' Sophie a mis au dessus des desirs et de I'ambition : ' je suis ce Prelat pieux, docte, vigilant : je suis ce ' Protecteur des beaux arts, cet amateur de la vertu : * je suis cet artisan fameux, cet unique dans ma pro- ' fession, &c. Et pour les femmes : je suis cette sage ' Princesse, dont le grand air inspire du respect et de ' la confiance : je suis cette Dame fiere, dont les ma- ' nieres grandes attirent de Pes time, &c. Je suis ' cette Dame vertueuse, douce, modeste, &c. Je suis * cette Dame enjouee, qui n'aime que les ris, la joie, * &c. Ainsi du reste." — Cours de Peinture par Principes. Compose par M. De Piles. Paris. 1 708. P. 279. I have now pointed out all the instances that ap- pear to me most remarkable, of a correspondence LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 53 between the style and sentiments of these novels, and the known habits, circumstances, and qualities of the author of Marmion. There remains, however, one fact to be noticed, which, even if unconnected with any point in the poet's individual character, would yet, on the general principles of human ac- tion, accord so precisely with the supposition of his being the unknown novelist, that I cannot forbear adding it to the proofs already adduced. How 19 it to be explained, that the author of Waverley has taken occasion in his writings to make honourable mention of almost every distinguished contemporary poet, except the Minstrel of the Border ? The an- swer is obvious ; he could not do so, because he was himself that Minstrel : and a man of ingenuous mind will shrink from publishing a direct commendation of his own talent, although he may feel confident that the eulogy will never be traced home. It would be endless to enumerate particularly the extracts from living poets, and the allusions to their writings, which abound in almost all ihe novels : Campbell, ' the Bard of Hope *,' is frequently quoted ; Lord By- ron, more than oncef ; 'honest Crabbe,' our moral teacher," * our English Juvenal :}:,"* is perpetually ap- * Mentioned by that name in the Bride of Lammerraoor, vol. i. ch. 8. f Heart of Mid-Lothian, voL iii. ch. 3 ; Old Mortality, last voL ch. 7. X Id. ibid. vol. i. ch. 1 ; Monastery, vol. iii. ch. 3 ; "Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 22 ; Guy Mannering, vol. i. ch. 20. 54 LETTERS ON THE LET. II. pealed to, and with manifest fondness : James Hogg contributes a stanza * ; several verses are borrowed from Wordsworth, and one passage in his Ballads is pointed out as containing a beautiful expression of feeling -f-; Coleridge is often cited, and is distin- guished by name as 'the most imaginative of our modern bards J ;' he 'of the laurel wreath §' receives a tribute of deserved admiration, and Joanna Bail- lie, 'our immortal Joanna BaillieU,*' is spoken of with a mixture of literary and national enthusiasm, as honourable to the man of taste and feeling, as characteristic of the true-hearted Caledonian^. — Yet, strange to say, neither national affection, nor ad- miration of a genius, atleast not inferior to the bright- est our generation has produced, nor the necessary sympathy between two minds exactly similar in con- stitution apd habits, engrossed with the same objects, and devoted to the same pursuits, has induced the novelist in any part of his works to bestow a single complimentary phrase upon the author of Mar- mion. Once, indeed, in the title-page of Guy Man- nering, we are presented with four uninteresting * Antiquary, vol. iii. ch. 16. f Ibid. vol. i. ch. 10 ; and see Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. iii. ch 2. $ Monastery, vol. i. ch. 1 1 . § Heart of Mid Lothian, vol, iv. ch. 4. II Bride of Lammermoor, vol. ii. ch. 8. ^1 I do not know who is the poet so highly complimented in Guy Mannering (vol. i. ch. 3), since our author has in this, as in some other instances, lent his countenance to the modern bad practice of using quotations without furnishing references. LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 55 lines, said to be taken from the Lay of the Last Min- strel ; and once in the same novel *, and again in the Introduction to the Monastery -f, that poem is drily, not to say ungraciously, alluded to ; but the writer is never mentioned by name. This is the more re- markable, as there does not exist a poet whose works would have supplied quotations more conge- nial to the spirit, and germane to the business of almost every chapter in these novels. Surely Mar- mion, and Rokeby, and Don Roderick, and the Lady of the Lake, might occasionally have contri- buted a verse, if it had been only to save the too fre- quent draught upon that well written, but very didactic ' Old Play/ which appears to be (as M . Brisac says in Fletcher's Elder Brother), " A general collection Of all the quiddits from Adam to this time." Act I. Sc. 2. The same shy or fastidious feeling seems to pre- vail with the author of Paul's Letters, when, after obtaining from his great poetical contemporary a translation of the insipid Romance of Dunois, he cavalierly designates him as " one of our Scottish men of rhyme J:" a mode of description scarcely less improper than if, in relating the conflict at * Vol. ii. ch. 5. -f Letter from Captain Clutterbuck. X Ninth Letter. 56 LETTERS ON THE LET. ill. Quatre Bras, he had mentioned the 42d High- landers as ' some Scotch foot in blue and green ' draperies." This cautious and reserved spirit may again be traced in the observations which were prefixed to the Bridal of Triermain, when its author was de- sirous of concealment. ' It is not in this place,' he says, ' that an examination of the works of the ma- ' ster whom he has here adopted as his model can, ' with propriety, be introduced, since his general ac- ' quiescence in the favourable suffrage of the public ' must necessarily be inferred from the attempt he ' has now made.' He offers some remarks on Ro- mantic Poetry, ' the popularity of which has been * revived in the present day, under the auspices, and ' by the unparalleled success, of one individual.' In the Epistle Dedicatory to Ivanhoe, Mr. Law- rence Templeton speaks with yet greater coolness of the novelist in whose steps he professes to tread ; observing, that he has ' supplied" his own ' indo- lence or poverty of invention' by incidents which have actually taken place; and pronouncing him to have ' derived from his works fully more credit * and profit than the facility of his labours merited.' But Jedediah Cleishbotham was a still bolder man ; for he, when willing to dissemble his identity with the author of Waverley, at once denounced that writer as * I know not what inditer of vain fables ; who hath cumbered the world with his devices, but LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 57 shrunken from the responsibility thereof*. Truly, as the sapient Bridoison says, ' On pent se dire a soi-meme ce-es sortes de choses Ki ;' — but if they are levelled at others, we must remark with him, ' I-ils ne sont pas polls du tout da-ans cet endroit cV — Mariage de Figaro, Acte III. Sc. 20. I think, then, that in the deportment of our my- sterious novelist toward his honoured contemporary, we may discover the natural, and (as appears from the instances 1 have given), accustomed policy of an author forsaking an old character, and provoking public curiosity in a new. One who is thus '\si- tuated, may innocently, nay becomingly, treat his other self with a cynical indifference, which, if ma- nifested toward a brother in literature, would be justly blamed as harsh and uncandid. Let me now, Sir, entreat you to review at one glance the various points of coincidence apparent in the characters and habits of these two eminent writers. Both are natives of Scotland ; both familiar from of old with her romantic metropolis ; both Low- landers, though accustomed to Highland manners and scenery ; both are poets ; both are deeply con- versant with those parts of our national literature which contain the materials of British history ; and both enjoy more, perhaps, than an amateur's ac- quaintance with ancient classics. Both, if I mis- * Prolegomen to the Heart of Mid- Lothian. 58 LETTERS ON THE LET. III. take not, are lawyers by profession, yet both equally delight in military subjects, and excel in martial de- scriptions, and the delineation of soldierly character. Both are evidently gentlemen, and frequenters of the best society. The novelist is a devoted anti- quary, so is the poet : ' go to, then, there's sympa- thy f one is a bibliomaniac — the other reveres scarce books ; « Ha, ha ! then there's more sympathy ;' ^ each is a cultivator of German and Spanish litera- ture — ' would you desire better sympathy^?' — Ihe same taste for every manly exercise and rural sport characterises the versatile pair ; I would warrant each well qualified to judge " Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch. Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth. Between two blades, which bears the better temper. Between two horses, which doth bear him best, Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye ;" though neither, I am sure, could add the protesta- tion— * But in these nice sharp quillets of the law. Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw." First Part of Henry VL Act II. Sc. 4. Are we then to conclude that this extraordinary agreement in so many and such various particulars * Merry Wives of Windsor, Act II. Sc. 1. LEI. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 59 amounts only to a casual resemblance between di- stinct individuals ? Can there exist authors so pre- cisely the counterparts of each other? Must we imagine, ** Etsolemgeminum,etduplices se ostendereThebas? * " O wonderful bard ! and O still more amazing writer of romance ! " How have you made division of yourself ? — An apple cleft in two is not more twin Than these two creatures." Twelfth Night, Act V. Sc. 1 . * Virg. ^n. IV. 470. 60 LETTERS ON THE LET. IV. LETTER IV. Non, a d'autres, dit il 3 on connoit votre style. Boilean, Ep. VI. From the attributes and qualities of the authors, let us now turn to those of the works themselves, and observe what inferences are suggested by a com- parative review of both collections, beginning with their broadest and most general characteristics, and proceeding gradually to their minutest peculiarities. The subject is a copious, and to me a very engaging one ; but I hope to use such diligence in selecting and compressing, as may save me from the blame of having presumed too far on your indulgent at- tention. ' All the productions I am acquainted with, both of the poet and of the prose writer, recommend them- selves by a native piety and goodness, not generally predominant in modern works of imagination, and which, where they do appear, are too often dis- figured by eccentricity, pretension, or bad taste. In the works before us there is a constant tendency to promote the desire of excellence in ourselves, and the love of it in our neighbours, by making us think honourably of our general nature. What- ever kindly or charitable affection, whatever prin- LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 61 ciple of manly and honest ambition exists within us is roused and stimulated by the perusal of these writings ; our passions are won to the cause of jus- tice, purity, and self-denial ; and the old, indissolu- ble ties that bind us to country, kindred, and birth- place, appear to strengthen as we read, and brace themselves more firmly about the heart and imagina- tion. Both writers, although peculiarly happy in their conception of all chivalrous and romantic excellencies, are still more distinguished by their deep and true feeling and expressive delineation of the graces and virtues proper to domestic life. The gallant, elevated, and punctilious character which a Frenchman contemplates in speaking of ' un hon- nete homme,' is singularly combined, in these au- thors, with the genial, homely good qualities that win from a Caledonian the exclamation of ' honest man !' But the crown of their merits, as virtuous and moral writers, is the manly and exemplary spirit with which, upon all seasonable occasions, they pay honour and homage to religion, ascribing to it its just pre-eminence among the causes of hu- man happiness, and dwelling on it as the only cer- tain source of pure and elevated thoughts, and up- right, benevolent, and magnanimous actions. This then is common to the books of both writers; that they furnish a direct and distin- guished contrast to the atrabilious gloom of some modern works of genius, and the wanton, but not 62 LETTERS ON THE LET III. artless levity of others. They yield a memorable, 1 trust an immortal, accession to the evidences of a truth not always fashionable in literature, that the mind of man may put forth all its bold luxuriance of original thought, strong feeling, and vivid ima- gination, without being loosed from any sacred and social bond, or pruned of any legitimate affection ; and that the Muse is indeed a 'heavenly goddess,' and not a graceless, lawless runagate, *' d(p§Yi7'w§, OL^k^ia-Tos, dvEomogV — Horn. II. IX. 63. Good sense, the sure foundation of excellence in all the arts, is another leading characteristic of these productions. Assuming the author of Wa- verley and the author of Marmion to be the same person, it would be difficult in our times to find a second equally free from affectation, prejudice, and every other distortion or depravity of judgment, whether arising from ignorance, weakness, or cor- ruption of morals. It is astonishing that so volu- minous and successful a writer should so seldom be - betrayed into any of those * fantastic tricks' which, in such a man, make ' the angels weep' and cri- tics laugh. He adopts no fashionable cant, collo- quial, philosophical, or literary ; he takes no delight in being unintelligible ; he does not amuse himself by throwing out those fine sentimental and meta- LET. III. AUTHOR OF WAVERI.EY. (33 physical threads which float upon the air, and tease and tickle the passengers, but present no palpable substance to their grasp ; he aims at no beauties that ' scorn the eve of vulgar light;' he is no dealer in paradoxes ; no affecter of new doctrines in taste or morals ; he has no eccentric sympathies or anti- pathies; no maudlin philanthropy, or impertinent cynicism; no non-descript hobby-horse; and with all his matchless energy and originality of mind, he is content to admire popular books, and enjoy po- pular pleasures ; to cherish those opinions which experience has sanctioned ; to reverence those in- stitutions which antiquity has hallowed ; and to en- joy, admire, cherish, and reverence all these with the same plainness, simplicity, and sincerity as our ancestors did of old. There cannot be a stronger indication of good sense in a writer of fiction, than the judicious ma- nagement of his fable ; and in this point both the novelist and the poet often attain unusual excel- lence : their incidents are, not always, indeed, but rrenerallv. well contrived and well timed : and their personages, almost without exception, act from in- telligible motives and on consistent principles. It is to the quality of good sense, more particularly as evinced in the management and keeping up of cha- racter, that the authors of Marmion and Waver- ley are in a great measure indebted for the strong interest with which their stories are read. When 64 LETTERS ON THE let. iv. the ruling motives, habitual feelings, and occasional impulses of the agents are natural and consistent, and such as strike us by their analogy to what we have ourselves experienced, then distance of time, remoteness of. place, strange incidents, unusual modes of society, no longer freeze our sympathies or dissipate our curiosity ; we become domesticated in castles, convents, and Highland fastnesses ; and we converse more sociably with Coeur-de-Lion and the Knight of Snowdoun, than with half the heroes of scandalous and fashionable novels, whose adven- tures happened last week, within a furlong of St. James's. The powerful operation of good sense is remark- ably exemplified (if it be necessary to cite an exam- ple) in that gem of romantic fable, the Lay of the Last Minstrel. Such fantastic incidents, such gro- tesque superstitions, and a state of society so anoma- lous, as that story presents, might, notwithstanding the charms of its poetry, furnish matter of incura- ble offence to the prejudices of cultivated minds ; but the characters are so distinctly conceived and their parts in the action so judiciously assigned, their manners, words, and conduct on every occa- sion are so consistent, and so rationally adapted to their respective views, habits, and modes of life, that the wildest scenes assume an air of truth and reality, a persuasive natural grace, which fascinates and disarms of his objections (I will say, if you LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 6.5 agree with me) the most discerning and experienced critic. Th^ good sense I have thus highly commended may exhibit itself in two ways; either in the just delineation of characters to which that quality is especially attributed, or in the discreet and mas- terly treatment of any character whatever : Lord Howard and the Lady of Branksome are strong in- stances of the first class, in the poem just alluded to ; and Wat Tinlinn and William of Deloraine of the second. The novels, being a species of composition better suited than poetry to the description of so- ber and unambitious excellencies, afford, in some of their heroes and heroines, more finished ex- amples of wisdom and sound understanding than are found, or can reasonably be expected, in the metrical tales. I scarcely need mention, in support of this remark, the names (which you have no doubt anticipated) of Father Eustace, in the Mo- nastery ; Rebecca, the Jewess, 'a pearl — richer than all her tribe*;' — and the incomparable J eanie Deans, whose exquisite natural sagacity, so long and severely tried, compels me to believe, that her last witless adventure with Master Staunton, the Whistler, is a fable disingenuously palmed upon Peter Pattieson by some envious detractor. Of characters not distinguished by strong sense in « Othello. 66 LETTERS ON THE LET. IV. themselves, but bearing testimony, by the manner in which they are drawn, to the accurate judgment and nice discretion of the writer, every volume of the novels will supply abundant examples. One of the first inquiries that suggest themselves in such investigations as the present is, how far the authors resemble each other in their style of com- position. You must have observed, however, that in the novels, as well as in the prose works of the author of Marmion, the style seldom presses itself on our consideration : some glorious and some dis- creditable exceptions will immediately occur to you ; but, generally speaking, it is the spirit, not the structure, of the sentence that obtains our atten- tion, and if the language becomes elevated and en- riched, the thought also rises in proportion, and maintains its ascendency. In this respect the novels before us differ strikingly from the work of Mr. Hope, already alluded to, where the elegance and aptness of the style add sensibly, nay, perhaps too obviously, to the effect of every passage, and equally assert their claim to praise in the gayest, the sad- dest, and the tenderest scenes. You will remark also, that those parts of the novels in which fine thoughts and fine composition have been most successfully united, are evidently, from the peculiar nature of their subjects, and from their highly imaginative or passionate character, un- LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WATERLEY. 67 fit to be placed in comparison with any passage of a sober literary essay, or historical memoir, though proceeding from the same pen. I might transcribe the parting harangue of Meg Merrilies to God- frey Bertram *, the young fisherman's funeral in the Antiquary -[-, the death of Mucklewrath the preacher J, Jeanie Deans's supplication to Queen Caroline §, the dissolution of the Chapter at Tem- plestowe by Coeur-de-Lion 1|, or Elizabeth's torch- light procession to Kenilworth f , all specimens of admirable composition ; but would it not be absurd to inquire what these extracts have in common with any page selected from the Life of Swift or Dryden, from the Essay on Border Manners and History * *, or even from Paul's Letters ? If, however, we view the style of the novels at its ordinary level, we shall, I think, find it bear as great resemblance to that of the other prose works as can exist between two modes of writing, when both are unmarked by any strong characteristic feature. Neither the author of Waverley, nor the editor of Dryden, is to be recognised by a frequent or ambi- tious use of antithesis, inversion, re-iteration, or climax; by sententious brevity, or sounding cir- cumlocution; by studied points or efforts to sur- • Guy Mannering, vol. i. ch. 8. t Vol. iii. ch. 2, 3. :{: Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. iv. ch. 5. § Heart of Mid-Lotbian, vol. iii. ch. 1'2. II Ivanhoe, vol. iii- ch. 14. ^ Kenilworth, vol. iii. «h. 5. * * Prefixed to the Border Minstrelsy, vol. i. 68 LETTERS ON THE LET. iv. prise; or, in short, by any of those artifices which, often repeated, form obvious peculiarities in style. The prose of these writers is, on the contrary, re- markable (if it can in any respect be deemed so) for plainness, and for the rare occurrence of ornaments produced by an artful collocation of words. No- thing seems attempted or desired, except to com- pose at as little expense of labour as possible con- sistently with the ease of the reader. Their style is therefore fluent, often diffuse, but generally per- spicuous : if it is sometimes weakened by a super- abundance, it is seldom darkened by a penury of words. We may remark as a characteristic circum- stance, that they constantly express thoughts in the regular form of simile, which other writers would condense into metaphor. Their usual phraseology is of that learned and'somewhat formal description, very generally adopted for the ordinary purposes of literature, and which, with reference to the business of authorship, may be called technical ; a kind of language differing from that in which we converse, or correspond on familiar subjects, as printed cha- racters from a free hand- writing. Yet the tone and spirit in which they deliver themselves are remark- ably free from all appearance of pedantry and au- thoritative stiffness; there is, on the contrary, a winning air of candour in their address, which de- serves to be numbered among their chief excel- lencies. They urge opinions and impart know- LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVE RLE Y. 69 ledge in the frank, unassuming, and courteous manner of a friend communicating with a friend. The use of irony or sarcasm appears repugnant to their natural openness and good humour ; and ac- cordingly they seldom employ these weapons un- less it be for the prosecution of fictitious conflicts between imaginary personages. But there is a kind of serious banter, a style hovering between affected gravity and satirical slyness, in which both writers take an unusual delight: it is a vein which may be traced through almost all their compositions, even, 1 think, to the poems, but which most fre- quently discloses itself in the telling of a story. — - One or two brief instances will bring a multitude to your remembrance. * St. Cuthbert/ says the author of Marmion, in a note on the second canto of that poem, ' was, in * the choice of his sepulchre, one of the most ' mutable and unreasonable saints in the calendar. * He died A. D. 686, in a hermitage upon the ' Fame islands. — His body was brought to Lindis- * fame, where it remained until a descent of the * Danes, about 763, when the monastery was nearly * destroyed. 1 he monks fled to Scotland with what ' they deemed their chief treasure, the reliques of * St. Cuthbert. The saint was, however, a most ' capricious fellow-traveller; which was the more ' intolerable, as, like Sinbad's Old M an of the ' Sea, he journeyed upon the shoulders of his com- 70 LETTERS ON THE LET. ly* ' panions. They paraded him through Scotland ' for several years. — He at length made a halt at ' Norham : from thence he went to Melrose, where ' he remained stationary for a short time, and then ' caused himself to be launched upon the Tweed ' in a stone coffin, which landed him at Tilmouth, * in Northumberland. — From Tilmouth Cuthbert ' wandered into Yorkshire; and at length made ' a long stay at Chester-le- Street, to which the * bishop's see was transferred. At length, the ' Danes continuing to infest the country, the monks * removed to Rippon for a season ; and it was in ' return from thence to Chester-le-Street, that, * passing through a forest called Dunholme, the * saint and his carriage became immoveable at a ' placed named Wardlaw, or Wardilaw. Here * the saint chose his place of residence ; and all who * have seen Durham must admit, that, if difficult * in his choice, he evinced taste in at length fixing 'it/ The following story is prefixed to a ballad, called Graeme and Bewick, in the Border Minstrelsy*: — ' The quarrel of the two old chieftains, over their ' wine, is highly in character. A minstrel, who * flourished about 1720, and is often talked of by the * old people, happened to be performing before * one of these parties, when they betook themselves ' to their swords. The cautious musician, accus- * Vol. ii. part 2. LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 7i ' tomed to such scenes, dived beneath the table. ' A moment after, a man's hand, struck off with a * back sword, fell beside him. The minstrel secured * it carefully in his pocket, as he would have done ' any "other loose moveable ; sagely observing, the ' owner would miss it sorely next morning.' In a note on the third canto of Marmion, w^e are entertained with the narrative of a conflict maintained by an officer and his servant against an apparition. ' How the combat terminated,' says the author, ' I do not exactly remember, and have ' not the book by me ; but I think the spirit made ' to the intruders on his mansion the usual proposal * that they should renounce their redemption ; ' which being declined, he was obliged to retreat.' The following description, among many others in the same style, occurs in Paul's Letters. ' A ' good bluff quarter- master of dragoons complained ' to me of the discomforts which they experienced ' from the condition to which the country had been ' reduced, but in a tone and manner which led me < to conjecture, that my honest friend did not sym- ' pathise with the peasant, who had been plundered * of his wine and brandy, so much as he censured * the Prussians for leaving none for their faithful * allies. " O noble thirst — yet greedy to drink all." * In the meanwhile, it is no great derogation from 12 LETTERS ON THE LET. IV. ' the discipline of the English army to remark, ' that some old schoolboy practices were not for- ' gotten ; and that where there occurred a halt, and * fruit trees chanced to be in the vicinity, they in- ' stantly were loaded like the emblematic tree in ' the frontispiece to Lily's Grammar, only with ' soldiers instead of scholars ; and surrounded by « their wives, who held their aprons to receive the * fruit, instead of satchels, as in the emblem chosen * by that learned grammarian.' — Letter XT. In the novels, almost every comic passage, of the narrative kind, is characterized by this bur- lesque rotundity of diction. I will offer a specimen from the scene where Caleb Balderstone, after stealing the cooper's wild-fowl, (an incident related with incomparable humour,) is overtaken on the road by his foreman. ' I have heard somewhere * a story of an elderly gentleman, who was pursued ' by a bear that had gotten loose from its muzzle, ^ until completely exhausted. In a fit of desperation, ' he faced round upon Bruin, and lifted his cane ; * at the sight of which the instinct of discipline * prevailed, and the animal, instead of tearing him * to pieces, rose upon his hind-legs, and instantly * began to shuffle a saraband. Not less than the ' joyful surprise of the senior, who had supposed * himself in the extremity of peril from which he ' was thus unexpectedly relieved, was that of our * excellent friend Caleb, when he found the pur- LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 73 ' suer intended to add to his prize, instead of * bereaving him of it. He recovered his latitude, ' however, instantly, so soon as the foreman, stoop- * ing from his nag, where he sat perched betwixt ' the two barrels, whispered in his ear, ' If ony * thing about Peter Puncheon's place could be * airted their way, John Girder would mak it * better to the Master of Ravenswood than a pair ' of new gloves,"* ' &c. — Bride of' LammermooT', Vol. I. ch. 12. Baillie Macwheeble, when dining with the Baron of Bradwardine, ' either out of more respect, or in ' order to preserve that proper declination of person, ' which showed a sense that he was in the presence ' of his patron — sat upon the edge of his chair, ' placed at three feet distance from the table, and ' achieved a communication with his plate by pro- 'jecting his person towards it in a line which ' obliqued from the bottom of his spine, so that ' the person who sat opposite to him could only ' see the foretop of his riding periwig. This stoop- ' ing position might have been inconvenient to an- ' other person, but long habit made it, whether ' seated or walking, perfectly easy to the worthy ' Baillie. In the latter posture, it occasioned, no ' doubt, an unseemly projection of the person to- ' ward those who happened to walk behind ; but ' those being at all times his inferiors, (for Mr. 74 LETTERS ON THE LET. iv. ' Macwheeble was very scrupulous in giving place ' to all others), he cared very little what inference * of contempt or slight regard they might derive ' from the circumstance. Hence, when he waddled ' across the court to and from his old grey poney, ' he somewhat resembled a turnspit walking upon ' its hind legs.' — Waverley^ Vol. I. c. 11. It may be observed, from some of the examples just quoted, that the two authors exactly resemble each other in their manner of relating a short story. I confine the parallel at present to short stories, be- cause the main narrative of the novels themselves is formed upon too expanded a scale, is too diffuse, too dramatic, and too much ornamented to bear comparison with those brief sketches of popular tradition which are scattered through the notes and prefaces of the author of Marmion for the mere purpose of illustration. We may, however, match this latter class of stories with some brief episodical narratives which now and then occur in the novels, and the result will, I think, favour my criticism. Such are the Legend of Martin Wal- deck*, the narrative of Allan M'Aulay's feud with the Children of the Mistf , and the beautiful tale of Lord Ravenswood and the Naiad, in The Bride of Lammermoor J. * Antiquary, vol. ii. ch. 3. f Legend of Montrose, fifth chapter. % Vol. i. ch. 5. LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 75 Nor should it pass unnoticed, that the concise historical and political summaries presented by the author of Marmion in his capacities of biographer and editor, bear in all respects a close resemblance to those with which the novelist is accustomed to usher in his learned and imposing fictions. Among other peculiarities of style common to both these authors, I regret to mention their ex- treme negligence, and frequent offences against the simplest and most general rules of composition. This is indeed an age in which many persons write well, but few revise carefully; and it must be owned that the authors of Waverley and Mar- mion, while they stand pre-eminent in their genera- tion as good writers, are scarcely less conspicuous as careless revisers. To particularize their trans- gressions in this respect would be as irksome to myself as I am sure it would be displeasing to you ; nor should I have thought such faults worth notice if they had been only of the common magni- tude and frequency. I am no ' mighty hunter ' after tautologies and cacophonies, but in the pre- sent instance, even if we shut our eyes to these blemishes, it is impossible not to see that worse remain behind. A few quiet escapes of national idiom might well have been excused (and our authors are not very often to blame on this head), but who can be patient when Queen Elizabeth her- self utters Scoticisms, and her courtiers adopt the . 1 76 LETTERS ON THE LET. Iv. fashion*? It may be urged, that all these in- accuracies of style should be forgiven for the excel- lence and richness of the matter ; but this argument will bear a contrary application. We expect more nicety of hand from the sculptor who works upon a vase of gold, than from him who carves a beechen cup ; and if a mantle hangs ungracefully, the fault is not rendered less vexatious by the splendour of the velvet or rarity of the furs. If indeed it were probable that the writings in which these blemishes occur would slide into oblivion when their hour of novelty was past, I should think the labour of correction not unwisely spared; but considering that a great portion, at least, of the works thus hastily put forth, is likely to be incorporated for ever with the living body of our literature, I watch their imperfections with as much concern as if I * ♦ Tressilian and Varney,' says the Queen, ' are near your persons : ' —you will see that they attend you at Kenilworth. And as we will ' then have both Paris and Menelaus within our call, so we will have ' this same fair Helen also,' &c. — Kenilworth, vol. ii. ch. 4. The * ivill^ in Italics appears to be used Scotice for shall: if not, the sentence is at least extremely uncouth. ' ' I judged as much as ' that he was mad,' said Nicholas Blount, . . . ' whenever I saw him * with these damned boots.' ' — Kenilworth, vol. iii. ch. 6. * Whenever for as soon as ever, and 'these* for those; the said boots not being then in the speaker's presence. A similar use of ' whenever' occurs in The Abbot, vol. iii. ch. 2. And 'will' is used for 'shall' in the letter to Captain Clutterbuck, (Introduction to the Monastery). ' I * have never seen, and never will see, one of their faces, and notwith- * standing,! believe that as yet I am better acquainted vvith them than « any man who lives.' LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 77 saw a magnificent piece of porcelain going to the furnace with the manifest impression of a workman's thumb. It is mortifying to anticipate that at some future day, a dunce who has ' broken' Priscian's ' head across/ and * given ' Lindley Murray ' a bloody coxcomb*,' shall imagine himself to be composing after the author of Waverley. It is not in the spirit of Momus's uncandid cri- ticism on the Goddess of Beauty, that I hazard this free censure of a graceful but too negligent Muse. The lovely slattern may perhaps poutingly remark, that a true admirer of her natural perfections would overlook mere outward disadvantages; but I an- swer, that the very fondness with which we regard her transcendent charms, inflames our jealousy of whatever tends to obstruct their influence. " If thou, that bidst me be content, wert grim. Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, ■X- * * * -x- Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious, ■* •* -x- * * I would not care, I then would be content j For then I should not love thee." King John, Act III. Sc. I. I speak the more unreservedly on this point, be- cause the works of our two authors, although so * Twelfth Night, last scene. 78 LETTERS ON THE LET. iv. loose and unfinished in general, yet contain more than enough of poUshed and harmonious writing to convince us that the faults complained of are not the result of any constitutional unaptness, of any innate or rooted indisposition to the ' limas labor/ A great part, for instance, of the excellent Life of Dryden (prefixed to the edition of his works in eighteen volumes) is composed with an accuracy and neatness entirely unexceptionable ; but in this as in the other productions under review (and here I include the poems), we may often find, within the compass of a few pages, two styles as different from each other as the sluttish Artemisia from the ele- gant Belinda. It would, however, be unjust to dismiss this part of the subject without acknowledging that on some happy occasions both the novelist and his rival ex- hibit a much higher excellence than mere neatness or accuracy; I mean that irresistible natural sweet- ness which flows from true feeling and refined taste, and, without these, is unattainable by the most experienced pen. It is impossible for tenderness and poetic beauty of sentiment to be more en- chantingly set off by artless melody of diction than in the first introductory pages of Old Mortality; and after indulging so unreservedly in the language of dispraise, I shall not, I think, incur your blame for extracting a passage which excites, in my mind, unmingled admiration. LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 79 ' Most readers,' says the manuscript of Mr. Pat- tieson, 'must have witnessed with dehght the joyous ' burst which attends the dismissing of a village- ' school on a fine summer evening. The buoyant * spirit of childhood, repressed with so much diffi- ' culty during the tedious hours of discipline, may ' then be seen to explode, as it were, in shout and ' song, and frolic, as the little urchins join in groups ' on their play-ground, and arrange their matches ' of sport for the evening. But there is one in- ' dividual who partakes of the relief afforded by ' the moment of dismission, whose feeUngs are not ' so obvious to the eye of the spectator, or so apt ' to receive his sympathy. I mean the teacher him- * self, who, stunned with the hum, and suffocated ' with the closeness of his school-room, has spent ' the whole day (himself against a host) in con- ' trouling petulance, exciting indifference to action, ' striving to enlighten stupidity, and labouring to ' soften obstinacy; and whose very powers of in- ' teliect have been confounded by hearing the same ' dull lesson repeated a hundred times by rote, and ' only varied by the various blunders of the re- ' citers. Even the flowers of classic genius, with ' which his solitary fancy is most gratified, have ' been rendered degraded, in his imagination, by * their connexion with tears, with errors, and with * punishment ; so that the Eclogues of Virgil and * Odes of Horace are each inseparably allied in 80 LETTERS ON THE LET. IV. ' association with the sullen figure and monotonous ' recitation of some blubbering school-boy. If to ' these mental distresses are added a delicate frame ' of body, and a mind ambitious of some higher ' distinction than that of being the tyrant of child- ' hood, the reader may have some slight conception ' of the relief which a solitary walk, in the cool of ' a fine summer evening, affords to the head which ' has ached, and the nerves which have been shat- ' tered, for so many hours, in plying the irksome * task of public instruction. ' To me these evening strolls have been the hap- * piest hours of an unhappy life ; and if any gentle ^ reader shall hereafter find pleasure in perusing ' these lucubrations, I am not unwilUng he should ' know, that the plan of them has been usually ' traced in those moments, when relief from toil ' and clamour, combined with the quiet scenery ^ around me, has disposed my mind to the task of * composition. ' My chief haunt, in these hours of golden ' leisure, is the banks of the small stream, which, ' winding through a * lone vale of green bracken,* * passes in front of the village school-house of Gan- ' dercleugh. For the first quarter of a mile, per- ' haps, I may be disturbed from my meditations, ' in order to return the scrape, or doffed bonnet, of ' such stragglers among my pupils as fish for trouts ^ or minnows in the little brook, or seek rushes and LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 81 * wild flowers by its margin. But, beyond the space ' I have mentioned, the juvenile anglers do not, ' after sun-set, voluntarily extend their excursions. ' The cause is, that farther up the narrow valley, ' and in a recess which seems scooped out of the ' side of the steep heathy bank, there is a deserted ' burial-ground which the little cowards are fearful * of approaching in the twilight. To me, however, * the place has an inexpressible charm. It has ' been long the favourite termination of my walks, * and, if my kind patron forgets not his promise, ' will (and probably at no very distant day) be my ' final resting-place after my mortal pilgrimage. ' It is a spot which possesses all the solemnity of * feeling attached to a burial-ground, without ex- ' citing those of a more unpleasing description. * Having been very little used for many years, the ' few hillocks which rise above the level plain are ' covered with the same short velvet turf. The ^ monuments, of which there are not above seven ' or eight, are half sunk in the ground, and over- ' grown with moss. No newly-erected tomb dis- ' turbs the sober serenity of our reflections by * reminding us of recent calamity, and no rank ' springing grass forces upon our imagination the ' recollection, that it owes its dark luxuriance to ' the foul and festering remnants of mortality which ' ferment beneath. The daisy which sprinkles the ' sod, and the hare-bell which hangs over it, derive 82 LETTERS ON THE let. iv. * their pure nourishment from the dew of Heaven, ' and their growth impresses us with no degrading ' or disgusting recollections. Death has indeed been * here, and its traces are before us ; but they are * softened and deprived of their horror by our ' distance from the period when they have been ' first impressed. Those who sleep beneath are ' only connected with us by the reflection that they « have once been what we now are, and that, as * their reliques are now identified with their mother * earth, ours shall, at some future period, undergo * the same transformation/ — Old Mortality, ch. 1. The following passage, on a very different sub- ject, is written in the same spirit, and although less accurately composed, possesses similar beauties, ' It was on the second night after my arrival in * Paris, that, finding myself rather too early for an ' evening party to which I was invited, 1 strolled ' out, enjoying the pure and delicious air of a ' summer night in France, until I found myself in ' the centre of the Place de Louis Quinze, sur- ' rounded, as I have described it, by objects so ' noble in themselves, and so powerfully associated ' with deep historic and moral interest. ' And here * am I at length in Paris,' was the natural re- ' flection ; ' and under circumstances how different ' from what I dared to have anticipated ! That is ' the palace of Louis le Grand ; but how long have ' his descendants been banished from its halls, and LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 83 ' under what auspices do they now again possess ' them ! This superb esplanade takes its name from ' his luxurious and feeble descendant ; and here, ' upon the very spot where I now stand, the most * virtuous of the Bourbon race expiated, by a * violent death inflicted by his own subjects, and in * view of his own palace, the ambitions and follies ' of his predecessors. There is an awful solemnity * in the reflection, how few of those who contributed * to this deed of injustice and atrocity now look ' upon the light, and behold the progress of retri- ' bution. The glimmering lights that shine among ' the alleys and parterres of the Champs Elysees * indicate none of the usual vigils common in a me- ' tropolis. They are the watch-fires of a camp, of ' an English camp, and in the capital of France, ' where an English drum has not been heard since ' 1436, when the troops of Henry the Sixth were ' expelled from Paris. During that space, of nearly * four centuries, there has scarce occurred a single ' crisis which rendered it probable for a moment, ' that Paris should be again entered by the English ' as conquerors ; but least of all, could such a con- ^ summation have been expected at the conclusion ' of a war, in which France so long predominated ' as arbitress of the continent, and which had pe- ' riods when Britain seemed to continue the conflict * only in honourable despair.' * There were other subjects of deep interest g2 84 LETTERS ON THE LET. IV. ' around me. The lights which proceeded from * the windows and froiji the gardens of the large ' hotel occupied by the Duke of Wellington, at the ' corner of the Rue des Champs Elysees, and which ' chanced that evening to be illuminated in honour ' of a visit from the allied sovereigns, mingled with ' the twinkle of the camp-fires and the glimmer of ' the tents ; and the music, which played a variety * of English and Scottish airs, harmonized with the ' distant roll of the drums, and the notes of that * beautiful point of war which is performed by our ' bugles at the setting of the watch. In these sounds ' there was pride and victory and honour, some ' portion of which descended (in imagination at ' least) to each, the most retired and humblest fel- ' low-subject of the hero who led, and the soldiers * who obeyed, in the achievements which had borne ' the colours of Britain into the capital of France. ' But there was enough around me to temper the ' natural feelings of elation, which, as a Briton, ' I could not but experience. Monuments rose * on every side, designed to commemorate mighty ' actions, which may well claim the highest praise ' that military achievement alone, abstracted from * the cause in which it was accomplished, could be ' entitled to. No building among the splendid ^ monuments of Paris, but is marked with the * name, or device, or insignia, of an emperor, whose ' power seemed as deeply founded as it was widely LET. IV. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 85 ' extended. Yet the gourd of the prophet, which ' came up in a night and perished in a night, has ' proved the type of authority so absolute, and of ' fame so diffused ; and the possessor of this mighty * power is now the inhabitant of a distant and se- ' questered islet, with hardly so much free will as ' entitles him to claim from his warders an hour of ' solitude, even in the most solitary spot in the ^ civilized world.' — PauVs Letters, Letter XII. 86 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. LETTER V. O with how great liveliness did he represent the conditions of all manner of men ! — from the overweening monarch to the peevish swaine, through all intermediate degrees of the superficial courtier or proud warrior, dissembled churchman, doting old man, cozening lawyer, lying traveler, covetous mercliant, rude seaman, pedantick scolar, the amourous shepheard, envious artisan, vain-glorious master and tricky servant; He had all the jeers, squibs, flouts, buls, quips, taunts, whims, jests, clinches, gybes, mokes, jerks, with all the several kinds of equivocations and other sophistical captions, that could properly be adapted to the person by whose representation he intended to inveagle the company into a fit of mirth. EK2KTBAAATPON, or the Discovery of a most exquisite Jewel, ^c. (By Sir Thomas Urquhart.) London, 1653. P. 105, 106. An important and highly characteristic portion of the novels to which the foregoing observations on style bear very little reference, is the dialogue : a subject which I thought might conveniently be reserved for separate consideration. In comparing the dramatic scenes of the two writers, it will of course be proper to allow some- thing for the diifFerence between prose composition and lyrical poetry, in their general tone, and cast of phraseology. I must candidly own, too, that if it were necessary for the present purpose to point out any specimen of dialogue in the poems as LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY.. 87 rivalling that of the novels, taken in its happiest vein, I must at once abandon this topic. The dis- play of exquisite humour and natural feeling in the characters and language of Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Dominie Sampson, honest Dandie Dinmont, Bailhe Jarvie, Old Milnwood and his housekeeper, Lady Margaret Bellenden, Serjeant Both well, Jenny Dennison, Cuddie, and Mause, and the Covenanters, Robin Hood and the Clerk of Copraanhurst and the buxom Richard, have, I freely allow, no counterparts in all the range of fiction from the Last Minstrel to Harold the Daunt- less : nor would it be reasonable to expect, in com- positions of this latter kind, such lively colloquial turns as the following : ' Our knight of the broken head first kissed and 'hugged them' (the children) * all round, then *■ distributed whistles, penny-trumpets, and ginger- ' bread, and, lastly, when the tumults of their joy ' and welcome got beyond bearing, exclaimed to his * guest, ' This is a' the gudewife's fault, Captain — ' she will gie the bairns a' their ain way.' ' ' Me ! Lord help me,' said Alie, who at that * instant entered with the bason and ewer, ' how ' can I help it ? I have naething else to gie them, ' poor things !' ' — Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 3. Or the Highlander's whimsical expostulation with the Baillie for singeing his plaid : ' Saw ever ony 88 . LETTERS ON THE > LET. v. * body a decent gentleman fight wi' a firebrand ' before?' — Rob Roy, \ol. iii. ch. 1. Or the reflection which escapes with so much ndi-cett from Jeanie Deans, when, after her tragi- comic parting with poor Dumbiedikes, her feehngs of distress and gratitude give way for a moment to her sense of ridicule, as the Laird is hurried away in his night-gown by the mutinous Rory Bean. ' He 's a gude creature,' said she, ' and a * kind — it 's a pity he has sae willy ard a powney.' — Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. iii. ch. 1. But if the comparison be restricted to those points in which a near resemblance may be reason- ably expected, an examination of the dialogue will, I think, go far in confirming our assurance of the novelist's identity with the poet. Their address in combining narrative with con- versation, so that each supports and animates the other, has been too long admired and celebrated to need illustration by particular examples. I can- not, however, forbear mentioning two splendid in- stances ; the death of Marmion, and the distress of Sir Arthur and Miss Wardour on Knockwinnock Sands*. Not less remarkable are the nicety of perception and felicity of execution with which they adapt language to the sex, age, character, and condition • Antiquary, vol. i. ch. 7. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 89 of the speaker. A few examples will show how similarly (if not equally in degree) the same talent is developed by these authors in both modes of composition : how each (as the author of Marmion says of Swift) ' seems, like the Persian dervise, to ' possess ' the faculty of transfusing his own soul into * the body of any one whom he ' may select ; — ' of ' seeing with his eyes, employing every organ of * his sense, and even becoming master of the powers * of his judgment*.' In the reply of young Buccleuch to the English archer, observe the admirable combination of childish simplicity with native haughtiness and courage : " For when the Red-Cross spied he. The boy strove long and violently. ' Now, by St. George/ the archer cries, ' Edward, methinks we have a prize ! This boy's fair face, and courage free. Shews he is come of high degree.* * Yes ! I am come of high degree. For I am the heir of bold Buccleuch ; And if thou dost not set me free. False Southron, thou shalt dearly rue ! For Walter of Harden shall come with speed. And William of Deloraine, good at need. And every Scott from Esk to Tweed ; * Life of Swift (prefixed to the edition of his works in 19 volumes — Edinburgh 1814), concluding section, Page 496. 90 LETTERS ON THE LET. V. And if thou dost not let me go, Despite tliine arrows and thy bow, I '11 have thee hang'd to feed the crow !' ' Gramercy for thy good will, fair boy ! My mind was never set so high j But if thou art chief of such a clan. And art the son of such a man, And ever comest to thy command. Our wardens had need to keep good order ; My bow of yew to a hazel wand. Thou 'It make them work upon the border. Meantime, be pleased to come with me. For good Lord Dacre thou shalt see ; I think our work is well begun. When we have taken thy father's son.' " Lai/ of the Last Minstrel, Canto III. St. 18, &c. The scene I have quoted has perhaps reminded you of that in which old Stawarth Bolton places his red cross in the bonnet of little Halbert Glen- dinning, and the boy indignantly ' skims it into the brook.' ' I will not go with you,' said Halbert boldly, ' for you are a false-hearted southern ; and ' the southerns killed my father : and I will war ' on you to the death, when I can draw my father's * sword*.' ' God-a-mercy, my little levin-bolt,' said Stawarth, ' the goodly custom of deadly feud will never go • '* And if I live to be a man, jVIy father's death revenged shall be." Lay of the Last Miiislrel, Canto I. St. 9. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 91 ' down in thy day, I presume.' — Monastery j vol. i, ch. 2. To infuse into conversation a spirit truly and unaffectedly feminine appears to me one of the most difficult tasks that can be undertaken by a writer of our sex: yet this is in many instances happily achieved by the author of Marmion, al- though the somewhat antiquated turn of his style is unfavourable to such an attempt. I think his greatest felicity in this respect lies in occasional snatches of speech interwoven with animated de- scription ; as when, in Holy-rood palace. Lady Heron *' rises with a smile Upon the harp to play." " — And first she pitch'd her voice to sipg. Then glanced her dark eye on the king. And then around the silent ring j And laugh'd and blush'd, andoft did say Her pretty oath, by Yea, and Nay, She could not, would not, durst not play !" Marmion J Canto V. St. 11. Or where the young chief of Duncraggan is sum- moned from his father's funeral to the gathering of Clan- Alpine : *' But when he saw his mother's eye AN'atch him in speechless agony. 92 LETTERS ON THE let. v. Back to her open'd arms he flew. Press 'd on her lips a fond adieu — ' Alas !' she sobbed, — ' and yet be gone. And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son !' Suspended was the widow's tear. While yet his footsteps she could hear ; And when she mark'd the henchman's eye Wet with unwonted sympathy, ^ Kinsman,' she said, ' his race is run. That should have sped thine errand on, — ' "&c. Ladi^ of the Lake, Canto III. St. 18. Nor must I omit that beautiful burst of wounded maternal pride, when the elvish counterfeit of young Buccleuch refuses to mix with the defenders of Branksome : " Then wrathful was the noble dame ; She blushed blood-red for very shame — ' Hence ! ere the clan his faintness view ; Hence with the weakling to Buccleuch ; Sure some fell fiend has cursed our line. That coward should e'er be son of mine !' " Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto IV. St. 11. But there are many colloquial passages of greater length in these poems, highly distinguished by fe- minine grace and tenderness: as, for instance, the LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 93 conversations of Matilda with her two lovers, in Rokeby*: that scene in the Lady of the Lake, where Fitz- James, impelled by his passion for Ellen, revisits the Lonely Isle on the eve of a Highland insurrection -|- ; and the opening con- versation in the Lord of the Isles, when Edith of Lorn, attended by her nurse, is watching for her tardy bridegroom : '^ ' Think'st thou ... to cheat the heart. That, bound in strong affection's chain. Looks for return, and looks in vain ? No ! sum thine Edith's wretched lot In these brief words — He loves her not ! Debate it not — too long I strove To call his cold observance love. All blinded by the league that styled Edith of Lorn — while yet a child. She tripp'd the heath by Morag's side — The brave Lord Ronald's destined bride. He came ! and all that had been told Of his high worth seem'd poor and cold. Tame, lifeless, void of energy, Unjust to Ronald and to me ! Since then, what thought had Edith's heart And gave not plighted love its part ! — And what requital ? cold delay — Excuse that shunn'd the spousal day. — * Cantos IV. and V. f Canto IV. St. 16 to 18. 94 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. It dawns, and Ronald is not here ! — Hunts he Bentalla's nimble deer. Or loiters he in secret dell To bid some lighter love farewell. And swear, that though he may not scorn A daughter of the House of Lorn, Yet, when these formal rites are o'er. Again they meet, to part no more V ' Hush, daughter, hush ! thy doubts remove. More nobly think of Ronald's love. Look, where beneath the castle gray His fleet unmoor from Aros bay ! ■X- * -X- * * Thy Ronald comes, and while in speed His galley mates the flying steed. He chides her sloth !' Fair Edith sigh'd, Blush'd, sadly smiled, and thus replied : — ' Sweet thought, but vain !' " — &c. Lord of the Isles, Canto I. St. 9, &c. In furnishing parallel instances from the novels, my only difficulty would be to choose among the multitude. One short passage, however, I am in- duced to extract, as harmonizing well with the strain of poetry just now selected : ^ In finding herself once' more by the side of ' Ivanhoe, Rebecca was astonished at the keen * sensation of pleasure which she experienced, even ' in a moment when all around them both was ^ danger, if not despair. As she felt his pulse and ' inquired after his health, there was a softness in LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 95 ' her touch and in her accents, implying a kinder ' interest than she would herself have been pleased * to have voluntarily expressed. Her voice faultered ' and her hand trembled, and it was only the cold ' question of Ivanhoe, ' Is it you, gentle maiden ?' ' which recalled her to herself, and reminded her ' the sensations which she felt were not and could ' not be mutual. A sigh escaped, but it was scarce ' audible, and the questions which she put to the * knight concerning his state of health, were put in * the tone of calm friendship. Ivanhoe answered * her hastily that he was, in point of health, as * well and better than he could have expected — ' ' Thanks," he said, ' dear Rebecca, ' to thy helpful ' skill.' * * He calls me dear Rebecca,' said the maiden * to herself, ' but it is in the cold and careless tone ' which ill suits the word. His war-horse — his * hunting-hound, are dearer to him than the de- ' spised Jewess.' ' ' My mind, gentle maiden,' continued Ivanhoe, ' ' is more disturbed by anxiety, than my body with * pain. From the speeches of these men who were * my warders just now, I learn that I am a prisoner, . * and — in the castle of Front-de-Boeuf — if so, how * will this end, or how can I protect Rowena and * my father ?' ' ' He names not the Jew or Jewess,' said Re- * becca, internally : ' yet what is our portion in 96 LETTERS ON THE LET. V. ' him ? and how justly am I punished by Heaven ' for letting my thoughts dwell upon him !' ' — Ivan- hoe^ vol. ii. ch. 15. But of all the dramatic scenes in which this writer has depicted female manners and character, there is none perhaps so purely natural and irresistibly pa- thetic as the first interview of Jeanie Deans with her imprisoned sister in the presence of Ratcliffe: a piece of writing which alone might entitle its author to sit down at the feet of Shakspeare. I cannot forego the pleasure of adorning this un- worthy page with an extract, though it is almost profanation to dismember so beautiful a scene. ' '^ O, if ye had spoken a word,' again sobbed ' Jeanie, — ' if I were free to swear that ye had said ' but ae word of how it stude wi' ye, they couldna ' hae touched your life this day."* ^ ' Could they na ?' said Effie, ' with something * like awakened interest — for life is dear even to ' those who feel it as a burthen — ' Wha tauld ye * that, Jeanie ?' ' ' It was ane that kenn'd what he was saying ■ weel aneugh,' replied Jeanie, who had a natural ' reluctance at mentioning even the name of her * sister's seducer. * 'Wha was it? I conjure ye to tell me/ said ' Effie, seating herself upright. — ' Wha could tak * interest in sic a cast-bye as I am now ? — Was it < — was it himf LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLF.Y. 97 ' ' Hout,' said Ratcliffe, ' what signifies keeping ' the poor lassie in a swither ? — I 'se uphaud it 's * been Robertson that learned ye that doctrine ' when ye saw him at Muschat's Cairn."* ' * Was it him?' said Effie, catching eagerly at ' his words — ' was it him, Jeanie, indeed ? — O, I ' see it was him — poor lad, and I was thinking his ' heart was as hard as the nether mill-stane. And ' him in sic danger on his ain part — poor George !' ' Somewhat indignant at this burst of tender ^ feeling towards the author of her misery, Jeanie * could not help exclaiming, ' O, Effie, how can ye ' speak that gate of sic a man as that ?' ' ' We maun forgi'e our enemies, ye ken,' said ' poor Effie, with a timid look and a subdued voice, ' for her conscience told her what a different cha- ' racter the feelings with which she still regarded ' her seducer bore, compared with the Christian ' charity under which she attempted to veil it. * ' And ye hae suffered a' this for him, and ye * can think of loving him still ?' said her sister, in ' a voice betwixt pity and blame. * ' Love him ?' answered Effie — ' If I hadna loved * as seldom woman loves, I hadna been within these ' wa's this day ; and trow ye that love sic as mine ' is lightly forgotten ? Na, na — ye may hew down ' the tree, but ye canna change its bend. And O, ' Jeanie, if ye wad do good to me at this moment, H 98 LETTETfS ON THE let. v. ' tell me every word that he said, and whether he ' was sorry for poor Effie or no.' * ' What needs I tell ye ony thing about it,' said * Jeanie. ' Ye may be sure he had ower muckle to ' do to save himsell, to speak lang or muckle about ' ony body beside.' ' ' That 's no true, Jeanie, though a saunt had ' said it,' replied Effie, with a sparkle of her former ' lively and irritable temper. — * But ye dinna ken, ' though I do, how far he pat his life in venture to ' save mine.' And looking at Ratcliffe, she checked ' hei*self and was silent.' — Heart of Mid Lothia?}, vol. ii. ch. 8. The colloquial felicity of these writers is shewn not only in tlieir skilful adaptation of discourse to the natural varieties of age, sex, and disposition, but in the wonderful address and versatility with which they suit it to all acquired habits and pecu- liarities, whether national or professional, the effect of accident or result of education. If we look into the poems, the gentle Fitz-Eustace and. the ' sworn horse-courser' Harry Blount*, the rough English soldier John of Brent, and his pert but courtly captain f, are marked and obvious instances; and the manners and circumstances of every personage * See, particularly, Marmion, Canto V. St. 31.— VI. St. 16, 21, 28. t Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 7 to U. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 99 in the Lay of the Last Minstrel are as vividly pictured in his language as in the description by which the poet introduces him. For example : '^ Now loud the heedful gate-ward cried — ' Prepare ye all for blows and blood ! Watt Tinlinn, from the Liddle-sidC;, Comes wading through the flood. Full oft the Tynedale snatchers knock At his lone gate, and prove the lock j It was but last St. Barnabright They sieged him a whole summer night. But fled at morning ; well they knew. In vain he never twanged the yew. Right sharp has been the evening shower That drove him from his Liddle tower j And by my faith/ the gate-ward said, ' I think 'twill prove a warden-raid,' Thus to the Ladye did Tinlinn show The tidings of the English foe. — ' Belted AVill Howard is marching here. And hot Lord Dacre, with many a spear. And all the German hagbut-men. Who have long lain at Askerten : They cross' d the Liddle at curfew hour, And burned my httle lonely tower , The fiend receive their souls therefor ! It had not been burned this year and more. Barn-yard and dwelling, blazing bright. Served to guide me on my flight ; But I was chased the live-long night. h2 100 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. Black John of AkesliaW;, and Fergus Gra^ne, Fast upon my traces came. Until I turn'd at Priesthaugh-Scrogg, And shot their horses in the bog ; Slew Fergus with my lance outright j I had him long at high despite : He drove my cows last Fastern's night.' " Lot/ of the Last Minstrel, Canto TV. St. 4, 6. The speech of Deloraine over Richard Mus- grave's body* is equally poetical, and even more characteristic. If we turn to the prose romances, examples offer themselves in perplexing abundance. I select one, which recommends itself by a congeniality in spirit, if not a resemblance in details, to the passage of which the last extract forms a part : ' ' Are we to stand here a' day, sirs,** e;cclaimed ' one tall young man, ^ and look at the burnt wa's ' of our kinsman's house ? Every wreath of the ' reek is a blast of shame upon us ! Let us to * horse, and take the chase. — Who has the nearest * blood-hound ?' ' ' It 's young Earnscliff,' answered another, ' and ' he 's been on and away wi' six horse lang syne, to ' see if he can track them.' ' ^ Let us follow him then, and raise the country, ' and make mair help as we ride, and then have at * Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto V. St. 2% LET. V. AUTHOR <)¥ 'WAVEHLkVi " ' ' 101 * the Cumberland reivers. Take, burn; and slay * — they that lie nearest us shall smart first.' ' ' Whisht ! baud your tongues, daft callants,' ' said an old man ; * ye dinna ken what ye speak ' about. What ! wad ye raise war atween twa pa- ' cificated countries ?' ' ' And what signifies deaving us wi' tales about ' our fathers/ retorted the young man, * if we 're to ' sit and see our friends' houses burnt ower their ' heads, and no put out a hand to revenge them? ' Our fathers didna do that, I trow.' * * I am no saying ony thing against revenging ' Hobbie's wrang, puir chield ; but we maun take * the law wi' us in thae days, Simon,' answered the ' more prudent elder. ' And, besides,' said another ' old man, * I dinna believe there 's ane now living ' that kens the lawful mode of following a fray ' across the Border. Tam o'Whittram kenn'd a* ' about it, but he died in the hard winter.' ' * Ay,' said a third, * he was at the great ga- ' thering when they chased as far as Thirlwall ; it ' was the year after the fight of Philiphaugh.' ' ' Hout,' exclaimed another of these discordinir ' counsellors, ' there's nae great skill needed; just ' put a lighted peat on the end of a spear, or hay- * fork, or something, and blaw a horn, and cry the ' gathering word, and then it 's lawful to follow ' gear into England, and recover it by the strong ' liand, or to take gear frae some other English- 102 LETTEllJi blJ THE LET. V. ' man, providing ye lift nae mair than 's been lifted ' frae you. That's the auld Border law, made at ' Dundrennan in the days of the Black Douglas. ' De'il ane need doubt it.' ' ' Come away, then, lads,' cried Simon, * get to 'your geldings, and we'll take auld Cuddy the * muckle tasker wi' us ; he kens the value o' the ' stock and plenishing that's been lost. Hobbie's * stalls and stakes shall be fou again or night ; and * if we canna big up the auld house sae soon, we 'se ' lay an English ane as low as Heughfoot is — and ' that 's fair play, a' the warld ower.' ' *Ay, ay !' exclaimed Simon of Hackburn, ^ that's ' the gate to take it, Hobbie. Let women sit and ' greet at hame, men must do as they have been ' done by ; it 's the Scripture says 't.' ' ' Haud your tongue, sir,' said one of the seniors ' sternly; ' dinna abuse the Word that gate, ye ' dinna ken what ye speak about.* ' ' tiae ye ony tidings ? — Hae ye ony speerings, * Hobbie? — O, callants, dinna be ower hasty;' said ' old Dick of the Dingle. ' ' What signifies preaching to us e'enow ?' said * Simon, ' if ye canna make help yoursel, dinna ' keep back them that can.' * * Whisht, sir ; wad ye take vengeance or ye ken * wha has wrang'd ye ?' LET. V. AUTHOKr OF- WAVERLLY, 103 ' 'D'ye think we dinna ken the road to England * as weel as our fathers before us ? — All evil comes * out o* there away — it 's an auld saying and a true, * and we 11 e''en away there, as if the devil was ' blawing us south.' ' ' We '11 follow the track o' Earnscliff 's horses ' ower the waste/ cried one Elliot. ' I "11 prick them ' out through the blindest moor in the Border an' ' there had been a fair held there the day before,' ' said Hugh the blacksmith of Ringleburn, ' for ' 1 aye shoe his horse wi' my ain hand.' ' Lay on the deer hounds,' cried another ; * where ' are they ?' ' ' Hout, man, the sun 's been lang up, and the * dew is aft* the grund — the scent Avill never lie.' ' Hobbie instantly whistled on his hounds, which ' were roving about the ruins of their old habitation, ' and fining the air with their doleful howls. ' ' Now, Killbuck,' said Hobbie, ' try thy skill * this day. — Four o' ye, wi' Simon, baud right for- ' ward to Graeme's gap. If they 're English, they '11 ' be for being back that way. The rest disperse ' by twasome and threesome through the waste, ' and meet me at the Try sting pool. Tell my ' brothers, when they come up, to follow and meet * us there. Poor lads, they will hae hearts weel ' nigh as sair as mine ; little think they what a sor- ' rowful house they ai'e bringing their venison to. ' I'll ride o'er Mucklestane-Moor mysel.' 104 ' L'ETTEiis* Olsf- 'THE LET. V. ' ' And if I were you,' said Dick of the Dingle, ' * I would speak to cannie Elsliie. He can tell you ' whatever betides in this land, if he 's sae minded/ ' — Black Dwarf, ch. 7, 8. If further illustration were required, I might transcribe at random from the discourse of Mac- Ivor's clansmen in Waverley, Serjeant Both well (or indeed any other character) in Old Mortality, Mr. Owen or the Baillie in Rob Roy, Abbot Boniface in the Monastery and Abbot, and Sir Dugald Dal- getty in A Legend of Montrose. The wanton exuberance of the novelisfs dramatic talent is sin- gularly evinced in this last story, by his intro- ducing, without any absolute necessity, a pro- fessional conference between two second-sighted prophets : a short dialogue, but extremely forcible and poetical*. The colloquies of Ailsie Gourlay and her fellow- aspirants in witchcraft -|- may be mentioned as similar prodigalities of eccentric and luxuriant imagination. The excellencies I have thus inadequately praised are sometimes accompanied by kindred faults ; and these also are common to both writers. The author of Waverley is perhaps unrivalled in the learned ease and happy address with which he handles the phraseology of remote times; there is scarcely a * Tales of My Landlord, Third Series, vol. iv. ch. 9. t Ibid. vol. ii. ch. 9, &c. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 105 chapter in Kenil worth which does not exhibit this talent in matchless perfection. But he sometimes, either from precipitation, or disgust at his task, or simple negligence, allows his dialogue to languish in a bald verbosity, and sink into that weak and affected strain, which, although sufficiently formal and antiquated, can never, by the greatest stretch of indulgence, be accepted as the similitude of real conversation in any age or class of society. The same occasional error had been imputed to the author of Marmion, before Waverley saw the light. Two or three short examples in verse and in prose will convey to your mind at once what I may have expressed but imperfectly : *' ' The King shall know what suitor waits. Please you, meanwhile^ in fitting bower Repose you till his waking hour j Female attendance shall obey Your best, for ser\T[ce or array. Permit I marshal you the way.' " Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 10. " ' What council, nobles, have we now ? — To ambush us in greenwood bough. And take the chance which fate may send ?' — Answer'd fierce Edward, ' Hap what may. In Carrick, Carrick's lord must stay. I would not minstrels told the tale, Wild-fiie or meteor made us quail.' — 106 LETTEllS ON THE LET. v. Answer'd the Douglas^ ' If my liege May win yon walls by storm or siege. Then were each brave and patriot heart Kindled of new for loyal part.' " Lord of the Isles, Canto V. St. 1 6. ' ' I will cumber your grace no longer with my ' presence,' said the Lady Lochleven, ^ unless you ' have aught to command me.' ' ' Nought, our good hostess,' answered the ' Queen, ' unless it be to pray you that on another ' occasion you deem it not needful to postpone your ' better employment to wait so long upon us.* ' ' May it please you,' added the Lady Loch- * leven, ' to command this your gentleman to attend ' us, that I may receive some account of these mat- * ters which have been sent hither for your grace's * use.'. ' ' We may not refuse what you are pleased to ' require, madam,' answered the Queen.' — Abbot, vol. iii. ch. S. To quaintness of expression is sometimes added a quaintness of thought, incompatible with the spirit of easy and gallant conversation, and indeed of all unpremeditated discourse: as in the follow- ing encounter of wits between Miss Vernon and Rashleigh : * ' I prize sincerity more than courtesy, sir, and ' you know I do.' — * * Courtesy is a gallant gay, a courtier by name LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 107 ' and by profession,' replied Rashleigh, * and there- * fore most fit for a lady's bower/ * 'But Sincerity is the true Knight,' retorted ' Miss Vernon, ' and therefore much more welcome, * cousin."' ' — Rob Rot/, vol. i. cli. 10. By and by the skirmish is renewed : ' ' I suppose I must in discretion bring the courtier * Ceremony in my company, and knock when I ap- ' proach the door of the library ?' ' ' No, no, Rashleigh,' said Miss Vernon, ' dismiss * from your company the false archimage Dissimu- * lation, and it will better ensure you free access to * our classical consultations.* ' — Ch. 12. Henry Blount, in Marmion, thus enigmatically alludes to a threatened invasion of Scotland : '^ Dost see, thou knave, my horse's plight ? Fairies have ridden him all the night. And left him in a foam 5 I trust, that soon a conjuring band. With English cross, and blazing brand. Shall drive the devils from this land. To their infernal home : For in this haunted den, I trow. All night they trampled to and fro." Canto IV. St. 3. The condition of poor Isaac in Front-de-Bceuf's dungeon is described in this far-fetched strain by the Templar : ' * But know, bright hly of the vale of 108 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. ' Bacca ! that thy father is already in the hands of ' a powerful alchemist, who knows how to convert ' into gold and silver even the rusty bars of a ^ dungeon grate. The venerable Isaac is subjected ' to an alembic, which will distil from him all he * holds dear, without any assistance from my re- * quests or thy entreaty. Thy ransom must be * paid by love and beauty, and in no other coin ' will I accept it."* ' — Ivanhoe, vol. ii. ch. 10. An heraldic pleasantry on the cognizance of the Douglas family appears to be somewhat too much in favour, for it occurs both in the Lady of the Lake — " O might 1 live to see thee grace. In Scotland's court, thy birth-right place, — The cause of every gallant's sigh. And leading star of every eye. And theme of every minstrel's art. The Lady of the Bleeding Heart !" Canto n. St. 10. And in the Abbot : ' ' Who would have said the young sprightly ' George Douglas would have been contented to ' play the locksman here in Lochleven, with no ' gayer amusement than that of turning the key on ' two or three helpless women ? — a strange office LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVEULEY. 109 ' for a Knight of the Bleeding: Heart !' ' — Vol. ii. eh. 8. To make their characters discourse by the book is a fault which many novelists commit through barrenness of fancy, or ignorance of the world. It cannot be imputed to either of these causes that the authors of Waverley and Marmion sometimes im- part a tinge of their own archaeological erudition to the sallies of playful gallantry and of homely hu- mour. Thus in the Lady of the Lake, Fitz- James and Ellen grow absolutely pedantic in their con- tinued allusions to the old romances*. Fitz-Eustace in Marmion touches on the same extreme, but the nature of his character allows, or indeed requires it. Roland Graeme and Catherine Seyton, in the Abbot, carry the humour farther, and with less excuse. The following passage very palpably betrays its bookish origin. When Ellen Douglas and Allan- bane the harper arrive at Stirling, escorted by a soldier, his comrade asks— » " But whence thy captives^ friend ? such spoil As theirs must needs reward thy toil. Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp 3 Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp, * Canto I. St. -23, 24, 26", 28, 30. 110 LETTERS ON THE let. v. Get thee an ape, and trudge the land. The leader of a juggler band." Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 6. It may be answered, that although the glee- maiden, ape, and harper of an ancient juggler's troop are known to us only by the aid of anti- quarian research, they were common and familiar enough in the time of James the Fifth, to be a subject of popular raillery. But the qualities of all dialogue must be estimated by the effect it produces on the reader or hearer. Now it is true that, within a certain limit, allusions proper to the age or place in which the scene is laid tend power- fully to strengthen the dramatic effect, and assist us in imagining that we listen to a real conversation, or at least hear it reported by a witness bearing all the passages freshly in his memory. But when, in the midst of a flowing and easy colloquy, we encounter some pointed reference, and that not inevitably suggested by the occasion, to an object or custom with which even well-educated persons are not universally familiar, a momentary pause ensues, while we recur in mind to the learned sources whence the author derived his information ; meanwhile our fancy drops from its flight; the illusion of the scene forsakes us ; and, after the charm is dissolved, we care but little for being LET. V. AUTHOR or WAVERLEY. Ill convinced that we ought still to have remained under its dominion. When Arruntius, in Jonson's tragedy of Sejanus, satirically tells the courtiers to ' run a hctor's pace,' and bids one get ' Liburnian ' porters'* to bear his ' obsequious fatness'^,' I sup- pose every reader's imagination is transported in- stantly from the streets of Rome to a college library ; yet lictors and their paces, and Liburnian porters, were as well known to the fellow-citizens of Sejanus as glee-maidens and jugglers to the garrison of Stirling. Another practice which I think materially injures the vraisemblance of a scene, is to represent persons celebrated in history, as indulging in idle and sportive allusions to their own and each other"'s most famous adventures and sayings. This is so much the error of a novice, and therefore so surprising in the authors of Waverley and Marmion, that, how- ever rare in its occurrence, it cannot pass wholly unnoticed. When the meteor which had lured Bruce and his followers from Arran to the coast of Carrick, sank down and left them in darkness, *'^ Ronald to Heaven a prayer address'd, And Douglas cross'd his dauntless breast ; ' St. James protect us !' Lennox cried} But reckless Edward spoke aside, * SejanuR. At I W Sc. 8. 11.^ LETTERS ON THE LET. v. ' Deem'st thou, Kirkpatrick^ in that flame Red Comyn's angry sph-it came. Or would thy dauntless heart endure Once more to make assurance sure* r' " The Duke of Argyle*s prattle with his children, n the presence of Jeanie Deans, about SherifF-muir and the Bob of Dumblanef , is still more inartificial, and, indeed, falls so much below the author's usual style, that I have no inclination to extract the passage. 1 know not whether it is owing to any perverse- ness of our nature, that a fictitious conversation, presenting these broad references to the recorded history of the speakers, awakens incredulity, and arms us against illusion. It certainly is not im- possible that a statesman or warrior should at a given time be heard familiarly discoursing on his own most celebrated exploit or memorable saying ; neither is it absolutely incredible that a portrait- painter should surprise a member of parliament musing over a favourite bill, or an officer unrolling the plan of a boasted position or manoeuvre ; yet the limner obtains small credit for his ingenuity in choosing such situations, and the novelist and poet, in my opinion, achieve as little for the honour of • Lord of the Isles, Canto V. St. 14. I need not repeat the well- known circumstances of Comyn's assassination here alluded to, t Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. it. eh. 3. LET. v. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 113 their art by their direct and palpable appeals to our commonest historical recollections. Experience, 1 think, tells us, that most persons, during the active season of life at least, are sparing of allusions to great and momentous incidents in their own past career, partly from natural reserve, and partly, it may be, because such events, at the time of their occurrence, so entirely fill the thoughts, and ex- haust every sensation they are capable of producing, that they do not afterwards, on common occasions, recur to the mind with that freshness which prompts the tongue to utterance. Whether this observation be well or ill founded, it is at least certain, that when the celebrated characters introduced in a fictitious tale seem over-forward in reminding us of their own deeds and sayings, the propriety of the scene is almost as much violated as if they announced them- selves like Holofornes's nine worthies ; ** My scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander." Love's Labour Lost, Act V. Sc. 2. Or, ** I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Great, That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat." Ibid. Little, I beheve, can be added to this catalogue of faults, which has been thus prolonged, not be- cause the enumeration gave me any pleasure, but 114 LETTERS ON THE LET. V. that corresponding blemishes are usually thought to afford stronger presumption of affinity than similar perfections. It may be worth while, however, in concluding, to notice one insignificant exception to what has been said of the versatility exhibited by our authors in their dramatic pictures of character : I mean the marked failure of both in scenes of bold and unmitigated vulgarity. These are but seldom attempted, and it is evident they are not written con amove; they appear sordidly coarse, and want that free spirit of joyous insolence which alone, on such occasions, can compel us to overlook the vile- ness of the subject. John of Brent and his com- rades, in the Lady of the Lake, are at least as saucy and irreverent as Bums's Merry Beggars ; but the soldiers, with all their licence, are coldly and formally debauched; while the joviality of Posie-Nansie's is so animated and glowing, that the whole spirit of the revel rushes upon us, and vagrancy appears almost sublime in the lines — " Here 's to budgets, bags, and wallets ! Here 's to all the wandering train ! Here 's our ragged brats and callets ! One and all cry out, Amen ! A fig for those by law protected. Liberty 's a glorious feast ! Courts for cowards were erected. Churches built to please the priest!" LET. V. AUTHOR OF AVAVERLEY. 115 Inglis the trooper, in Old Mortality*, Frank Levitt the thief, in The Heart of M id- Lothian f, and noble Captain Craigengelt, in The Bride of Lammermoor J, are at times even repulsively coarse; but their coarseness is of that kind which neither illustrates the character nor invigorates the lan- guage; it is at once overcharged and ineffective, plainly indicating that the writer, unsuccessful in seizing the spirit of genuine blackguardism^ has made an aggravated display of its outward signs, to conceal or atone for the essential deficiency. In portraying that unconscious vulgarity which results from selfishness, conceit, and bad education, the author of Waverley exhibits all his accustomed felicity, as in the character of Mrs. Nosebag §, and occasionally in that of Sir Dugald Dalgetty ; but he has not yet caught, with his usual nice appre- hension, the reckless and ribald audacity of the ' lewd rabble,' and those who adopt their manners ; and his essays of this kind, having all the rudeness of reality, without affording the pleasure which is produced by judicious imitation, remind us of the economical humorist in Miss Burney's Cecilia, who appears at a masquerade with the borrowed suit of a real chimney-sweeper. In the general remarks which I offered on the * See the last vol. ch. 14. t Vol. iii. ch. 4. X Vol. ii. ch. 8 : the conversation with Bucklaw. § Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 14. 1 2 116 LETTERS ON THE LET. V. Style of these two writers, I mentioned, as one of its distinguishing features, a tendency to diffuse- ness. This, however, is by no means a prevaihng characteristic of their dialogue, which, in all its happiest parts, is pecuharly terse and compact, and becomes, according to the occasion, sententious or epigrammatic, without any diminution of ease, or sacrifice of propriety. Hence it is, that when the stories of these authors have been compressed for the stage (as the Constrictor serpent compresses a lordly stag), it has commonly been found expedient to retain the original dialogue> not only of the novels, but occasionally even of the poems*, as more effective than any which could be substituted, and better calculated for developing the fable with animation, propriety, and distinctness. I cannot support these observations better than by referring to that scene in Marmion where the hero is received by King James in the banqueting- room at Holy-rood. The monarch, in addressing Marmion, glances a splenetic taunt at the Earl of Angus : " ' Then rest you in Tantallon Hold ; Your host shall be the Douglas bold, — A chief unlike his sires of old. * The Lady of the Lake was performed at a minor theatre, with (I believe) scarcely any alteration of the colloquial parts. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 117 He wears their motto on his blade. Their blazon o** his towers display'd ^ Yet loves his sovereign to oppose. More than to face his country's foes. Under your guard tliese holy maids Shall safe return to cloister shades. And, while they at Tantallon stay. Requiem for Cochian's soul may say.' — And, with the slaughter'd favourite's name. Across the monarch's brow there came A cloud of ire, remorse, and shame. In answer nought could Angus speak ; His proud heart swell'd well nigh to break : He turn'd aside,, and down his cheek A burning tear there stole. His hand the monarch sudden took. That sight his kind heart could not brook : ' Now, by the Bruce's soul, Angus, my hasty speech forgive ! For sure as doth his spirit live. As he said of the Douglas old, I well may say of you, — That never king did subject hold. In speech more free, in war more bold. More tender and more true. Forgive rae, Douglas, once again.* — And while the king his hand did strain. The old man's tears fell down like rain. To seize the moment Marmion tried. And whisper'd to the king aside : 118 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. * Oh ! let such tears unwonted plead For respite short from dubious deed ! A child will weep a bramble's smart, A maid to see her sparrow part, A stripling for a woman's heart: But woe awaits a country, when She sees the tears of bearded men. Then, oh ! what omen, dark and high. When Douglas wets his manly eye !' — Displeased was James, that stranger view'd And tamper'd with his changing mood. * Laugh those that can, weep those that may,' Thus did the fiery monarch say, ' Southward I march by break of day ; And if within Tantallon strong The good Lord Marmion tarries long. Perchance our meeting next may fall At Tamworth, in his castle hall.' — The haughty Marmion felt the taunt. And answer'd, grave, the royal vaunt : * Much honour'd were my humble home. If in its halls King James should come; But Nottingham has archers good. And Yorkshire men are stern of mood \ Northumbrian prickers wild and rude. On Derby hills the paths are steep 3 In Ouse and Tyne the fords are deep ; And many a banner will be torn. And many a knight to earth be borne. And many a sheaf of arrows spent. Ere Scotland's king shall cross the Trent : Yet pause, brave prince, while yet you may.' — The monarch lightly turn'd away. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 119 And to his nobles loud did call, — ' Lords, to the dance, — a hall, a hall !' Himself his cloak and sword flung by. And led dame Heron gallantly 5 And minstrels, at the royal order. Rung out — ' Blue bonnets o'er the border.' " Marmion, Canto V. St. 15 — 17. The bravado of Risingham — " Mine is but half the daemon's lot. For I believe, but tremble not." Rokeby, Canto HI. St. 20. if quaint, is at least well turned. The conversations between Fitz- James and Roderick Dhu, in the Lady of the Lake (Cantos IV. and V.)? contain many neat points, urged with great spirit, and, occasionally, with remarkable aptness of expression. Waldemar'^s reply to Prince John, in the following passage, is a happy retort, and conveys a weighty moral reflection : ' ' Saxon or Jew,' answered the prince, ' Saxon or ' Jew, dog or hog, what matters it ? I say, name ' Rebecca, were it only to mortify the Saxon ' churls.' ' A murmur arose even among his own im- * mediate attendants. ' ' This passes a jest, my lord,"* said Bracy ; ' no ' knight here will lay lance in rest if such an insult ' is attempted.' 1£0 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. ' * It is the mere wantonness of insult,' said one ' of the oldest of Prince John's followers, Waldemar ' Fitzurse ; * and, if your grace attempt it, cannot ' but proye ruinous to your projects.' ' ' I entertained you, sir,' said John, reining up ' his palfrey haughtily, * for my follower, but not ' for my counsellor.' ' ' Those who follow your grace in the paths * which you tread,' said Waldemar, but speaking ' in a low voice, * acquire the right of counsellors ; ' for your interest and safety are not more deeply ' gaged than theirs." — Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 9. Nothing can be more spirited than the short dialogue in the preceding chapter, when Locksley is imperiously questioned by the prince on his ap- plauding the resistance of Cedric to De Bracy'y insulting movement against Athelstane the Un- ready : ' ' I always add my hollo/ said the yeoman, ' ' when I see a good shot, or a gallant blow.' ' ' Say'st thou ?"* answered the prince ; ' then ' thou canst hit the white thyself, I '11 warrant.' ' ' A woodsman's mark, and at woodsman's di- ' stance, I can hit,' answered the yeoman. ' ' And Wat Tyrrell's mark, at a hundred yards,' * said a voice from behind, but by whom uttered ' could not be discerned.' There is great pithiness in Baillie Jarvie's answer LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLF.Y. 121 to Helen Macgregor, who takes offence at being claimed as kinswoman by a Glasgow mechanic : ' The virago lopped the genealogical tree, by ' demanding haughtily, ' If a stream of rushing ' water acknowledged any relation with the portion * withdrawn from it for the mean domestic uses of ' those who dwelt on its banks ?' ' * Vera true, kinswoman,"* said the Baillie ; ' but ' for a' that the burn wad be glad to hae the mill- ' dam back again in simmer, when the chuckie- ' stanes are white in the sun." — Bob Roy, vol. iii. ch. 4. It is observable throughout the novels and poems, that wherever the interest rises to a very high pitch, there the dialogue, if that form of composition be employed, becomes in a peculiar degree condensed and pointed. Let me call to your mind, as in- stances, the scene of Fergus M 'Ivor's condemna- tion*; that in which Edgar Ravenswood arrives at the Lord Keeper's to claim a final interview with Miss Ashtonf; and the altercation between Malcolm Graeme and the chief of Clan- Alpine J. Indeed, all the quarrels in these romances appear to me, as Sir Lucius O'Trigger would say, the prettiest quarrels in the world : every kind of heroic or gentlemanlike dissension is managed with • Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 20. t Bride of Lammermoor, vol. iii. ch. G. X Lady of the Lake, Canto II. St. 34, &c. 122 LETTERS ON THE LET. V. admirable skill and spirit ; and sometimes conducted through the requisite stages of Retort, Quip, Reply, Reproof, and Countercheck, with a lofty-minded discretion which would hardly have mis-become the days of Saviolo and Caranza. Yet, with all their address in carrying on that kind of dispute which tends to martial defiance, both writers are, I think, unfortunate in their en- deavours to imitate the conflict of acrimonious but polished raillery, as it is waged by well-bred malice on peaceable occasions. The mutual taunts of Marmion and Sir Hugh the Heron, when the knight asks his guest, of the page that used to attend him, " Say, hast thou given that lovely youth To serve in lady's bower ? Or was the gentle page, in sooth, A gentle paramour ?" and the baron, remarking in his turn the absence of Heron's flighty consort, ironically inquires — ■has that dame, so fair and sage, Gone on some pious pilgrimage*?" are somewhat rude, even for Norham castle. In the Abbot, the war of sarcasm between Mary • Marmion, Canto I. St. 15, 16. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 123 Stuart and the Lady of Lochleven usually ends in bringing down both disputants to the common level of incensed females ; a circumstance perhaps strictly natural, but pertaining to that kind of nature which, as we fly from it in real life, we are not greatly pleased to encounter in fiction ; certainly not where the fable is of an elevated and romantic cast. There is one distinguished excellence in the dialogue of our authors, which, although hastening to another part of the subject, I cannot leave un- praised. It is the simple yet nervous and im- passioned eloquence that breaks forth, apparently unbidden, in many of their scenes, and, while it flows in the aptest and most harmonious language, seems to rise spontaneously from a genuine and un- controulable impulse. Thus in the Countess Amy's rapturous exclamation, * It is Leicester ! — it is my noble earl ! — it is my ' Dudley ! — Every stroke of his horse's hoof sounds ' like a note of lordly music * !' all the words bound triumphantly over the tongue, and (fanciful as the remark may seem, when thus drily stated) the largeness of the phrase appears to correspond with a dilating of the heart. • Kenilworth, voL ii. ch. 10. A dignified version of " His very step has music in't As he comes up the stair." 124 LETTERS ON THE LET. v. But I will ])omt out one or two examples in a calmer tone, and on a more extended scale. Such is the animated and energetic apology of Roderick Dhu for his predatory course of life*. The follow- ing speech of Claverhouse, though far from new in substance, is, I think, composed with great eloquence as well as simplicity. Part of its effect, however, may be owing to the prophetic glance which it casts, in the conclusion, at the speaker's own fate : ' You are but young in these matters, Mr. ' Morton, — and I do not think the worse of you ' as a young soldier for appearing to feel them ' acutely. But habit, duty, and necessity, reconcile ' men to every thing. — You would hardly believe ' that, in the beginning of my military career, I ' had as much aversion to seeing blood spilt as ever ' man felt ; it seemed to me to be wrung from my ' own heart ; and yet, if you trust one of those ' whig fellows, he Avill tell you I drink a warm cup ' of it every morning before I breakfast. But, in ' truth, Mr. Morton, why should we care so much * for death, light around us whenever it may? ' Men die daily — not a bell tolls the hour but it * is the death-note of some one or other, and why ' hesitate to shorten the span of others, or take ' over anxious care to prolong our own .? It is all ' a lottery — when the hour of midnight came you * Lady of the Lake, Canto V. St. 7. LET. V. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 125 ' were to die — it has struck — you are alive and ' safe, and the lot has fallen on those fellows who ' were to murder you. — It is not the expiring pang ' that is worth thinking of in an event that must ' happen one day, and may befal us on any given ' moment — it is the memory which the soldier leaves ' behind him, like the long train of light that follows ' the sunken sun — that is all which is worth caring ' for, which distinguishes the death of the brave or ' the ignoble. When I think of death, Mr. Morton, * as a thing worth thinking of, it is in the hope of ' pressing one day some well-fought and hard-won ' field of battle, and dying with the shout of victory ' in my ear — that would be worth dying for, and ' more, it would be worth having lived for !' — Old Mortality, last vol. ch. 5. There is a melancholy grandeur in the reflections of Bertram Risingham on his approaching close of life: " My soul hath felt a secret weight, A warning of approaching fate : A priest had said. Return, repent ! As well to bid that rock be rent. Firm as that flint I face mine end; My heart may burst, but cannot bend. The dawning of my youth, with awe And prophecy, the Dalesmen saw j For over Redesdale it came. As bodeful as their beacon flame. 126 LETTERS ON THE LET. v Edmund, — thy years were scarcely mine. When, challenging the clans of Tyne To bring their best my brand to prove. O'er Hexham's altar hung my glove j But Tynedale, nor in tower nor town, Held champion meet to take it down. My noontide India may declare ; Like her fierce sun, I fired the air ! Like him, to wood and cave bade fly Her natives, from mine angry eye. Panama's maids shall long look pale When Risingham inspires the talej Chilis dark matrons long shall tame The froward child with Bertram's name. And now, my race of terror run, Mine be the eve of tropic sun ! No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay j With disk like battle target red. He rushes to his burning bed. Dyes the wide wave with bloody light. Then sinks at once — and all is night." Rokeby, Canto VL St. 20, 21 . LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVEELEY. 127 LETTER VI. Nec tenui — Penna, biformis — Vates ■ Hor. Carm. Lib. II. Od. 20. You will recollect, Sir, that in a former letter, when speculating on the studies and pursuits with which the two writers appeared equally conversant, I oifered reasons for believing that the author of Waverley was, by nature and practice, a poet. I propose now to compare him, in a few points of his poetical character, with the author of Marmion. The short metrical pieces introduced in some of the novels are too scanty in substance, and too slightly characterized (though occasionally spirited and elegant), to furnish any important matter for comparison. Besides, if these ornamental stanzas could be traced to the very portfolio of the author of Marmion, we should still have proved too little, unless we could repel the natural and easy sugges- tion, that one writer probably composed the novels, and another contributed the poetry. Such illustra- tions, therefore, as I may find occasion to draw from these works, will be taken from their prose passages, which, in fact, comprise the fullest and richest vein of fancy and of feeling. 128 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. If required to distinguish the poetry of the author of Marmion from that of other writers by a single epithet, I should apply to it the term Popular. The same easy openness which was remarked in his prose style, is also a prevailing quality of his poetical composition, where, however, it appears not so much in verbal arrangement, as in the mode of developing and combining thoughts. Few authors are less subject to the fault of over-describing, or better know the point at which a reader's imagina- tion should be left to its own activity; but the images which he does supply are placed directly in our view, under a full noon-day light. It is a fre- quent practice of other poets, instead of exhibiting their ideas in a detailed and expanded form, to involve them in a brilliant complication of phrase, high-wrought and pregnant with imagery, but sup- plying materials only, which the reader may shape out in his own mind according to his reach of fancy or subtlety of apprehension, and not presenting in itself any regular, fixed, or definite representation of objects. This style of composition is well ex- emplified in the ifovriujv kvijuitouv dyi^§i^^ov yeXa- plify objects, or to separate ideas which, from what- ever cause, have become associated together. He * Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto V. St. 2. 138 LETTERS ON THE LETVi. willingly avails himself of any power that resides in particular names or allusions to sway our secret moods and impulses ; and whatever theme may en- gage him, his constant aim is, directly or indirectly, to bring it home as much as possible to the business and feelings of man. These remarks may be properly closed by an extract which I have chosen as affording a fair ge- neral view of the author's style and habits of com- position, when his narrative rises into poetry. ' In that pleasant district of merry England which ' is watered by the river Don, there extended in * ancient times a large forest, covering the greater ' part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie ' between Sheffield and the pleasant town of Don- * caster. — Here haunted of yore the fabulous dragon « of Wantley ; here were fought many of the most ' desperate battles during the civil wars of the * Roses ; and here also flourished in ancient times ' those bands of gallant outlaws, whose deeds have ' been rendered so popular in English song. ' The sun was setting upon one of the rich * grassy glades of this « forest :— hundreds of broad « short-stemmed oaks, which had witnessed perhaps * the stately march of the Roman soldiery, flung * their broad gnarled arms over a thick carpet of ' the most delicious green sward; in some places LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 139 * they were intermingled with beeches, hollies, and ' copsewood of various descriptions, so closely as ' totally to intercept the level beams of the sinking « sun ; in others they receded from each other, ' forming those long sweeping vistas, in the intri- ' cacy of which the eye delights to lose itself, while ' imagination considers them as the paths to yet * wilder scenes of sylvan solitude. Here the red ' rays of the sun shot a broken and discoloured * hght, that partially hung upon the shattered ' boughs and mossy trunks of the trees, and there ' they illuminated in brilliant patches the portions * of turf to which they made their way. A con- ' siderable open space, in the midst of this glade, * seemed formerly to have been dedicated to the ' rites of Druidical superstition ; for, on the sum- ' mit of a hillock, so regular as to seem artificial, ' there still remained part of a circle of rough un- * hewn stones, of large dimensions. Seven stood * upright ; the rest had been dislodged from their ' places, probably by the zeal of some convert to ' Christianity, and lay, some prostrate near their ' former site, and others on the side of the hill. * One large stone only had found its way to the ' bottom, and in stopping the course of a small ' brook, which glided smoothly round the foot of ' the eminence, gave, by its opposition, a feeble ' voice of murmur to the placid and elsewhere silent ' streamlet. 140 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. ' The human figures which completed this land- ' scape were in number two, partaking, in their ' dress and appearance, of that wild and rustic ' character which belonged to the woodlands of the * West Riding of Yorkshire at this early period,' &c. — Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 1. In attempting to draw the poetical character of the author of Marmion, I have dwelt particularly on his judgment in selecting, enthusiasm in feeling, and energy in painting. From the union of these qualities arises that particular excellence in which, rivalled only by the author of Waverley, he far surpasses all other contemporary poets and de- scriptive writers, and is little inferior, if inferior, to the greatest of any age. I mean that realizing power which brings the imagined scene so forcibly to our minds, that we almost seem to behold it with our eyes. If there is any single perfection which, beyond all the rest, distinguishes either the author of Marmion, or the novelist, considered as a poet, it is the freshness, the living truth, the hdpysia, of his narrative and description. Both seem to transport themselves at pleasure, by a strong effort of fancy, into the midst of the objects they propose to represent; and hence the com- position of their stories, in every important part, is either picturesque or dramatic, or partakes of both qualities ; and the circumstances are so well chosen and aptly combined, and the incidents follow one LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 141 another so naturally, that we cannot but suppose the entire scene to have existed at once, or the whole action to have passed uninterruptedly, in the author's imagination, and to have been transferred thence to his paper, like a minute of actual ob- servations, or an abstract of real occurrences. The picturesque mode of narrative, which im- presses an event or situation on the fancy by a vivid representation of all the outward circum- stances as they unitedly offer themselves to the sense, is brilliantly exemplified in this passage of Kenil worth : * The door was unlocked and thrown open, and * Janet and her father rushed in, anxious to learn ' the cause of these reiterated exclamations. ' When they entered the apartment, Varney ' stood by the door grinding his teeth, with an ' expression in which rage, and shame, and fear, ' had each their share. The Countess stood in the ' midst of her apartment, like a juvenile Pythoness, ' under the influence of the prophetic fury. The ' veins in her beautiful forehead started into swoln ' blue lines through the hurried impulse of her * articulation — her cheek and neck glowed like ' scarlet — her eyes were like those of an imprisoned * eagle, flashing red lightning on the foes whom it * cannot reach with its talons. Were it possible ' for one of the Graces to have been animated by ' a Fury, the countenance could not have united 142 LETTERS ON THE LET. VI. ' such beauty with so much hatred, scorn, defiance, ' and resentment. The gesture and attitude cor- ' responded with the voice and looks, and altogether ' presented a spectacle which was at once beautiful ' and fearful ; so much of the sublime had the * energy of passion united with the Countess Amy's ' natural loveliness, Janet, as soon as the door was ' open, ran to her mistress ; and more slowly, yet * with more haste than he was wont, Anthony ' Foster went to Richard Varney.' — Kenilworth, vol. ii. ch. 10. I do not know a scene more elaborately pic- turesque than that in Marmion, where the abbess of St. Hilda's, the haughty prioress of Tynemouth, and the blind old abbot of St. Cuthbert's, are de- scribed sitting in judgment on Constance Beverley, at Holy Island. But the whole passage would re- quire too much space, and to omit any circumstance would leave the picture incomplete. I will there- fore turn to a shorter specimen, and of a milder character. " They closed beside the chimney's blaze. And talked, and hoped for happier days. And lent their spirits' rising glow Awhile to gild impending woe ; — High privilege of youthful time. Worth all the pleasures of our prime ! The bickering faggot sparkled bright. And gave the scene of love to sight. LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. T43 Bade Wilfrid's cheek more lively glow. Played on Matilda's neck of snow. Her nut-brown curls and forehead high, And laugh'd in Redmond's azure eye. Two lovers by the maiden sate. Without a glance of jealous hate 5 The maid her lovers sate between. With open brow and equal mien ; It is a sight but rarely spied. Thanks to man's wrath and woman's pride*." Rokeby, Canto V. St. 6. The dramatic and picturesque are sometimes united with admirable effect : for instance — ' Of Allan himself it is said, that, in a wonder- ' fully short space after the deed -(- was committed, ' he burst into a room in the castle of Inverara, ' where Argyle was sitting in council, and flung ' on the table his bloody dirk. ' ' Is it the blood of James Graham ?' said Ar- ' gyle, a ghastly expression of hope mixing with * the terror which the sudden apparition naturally * excited. * ' It is the blood of his minion,' answered ' M'Aulay — 'It is blood which I was predestined ' to shed, though I would rather have spilt my * To these examples may be added the beautiful lines already- quoted (in Letter II.), from the Lady of the Lake.—'* Delightful praise," &c. t The assassination of Lord Menteith. 144 LETTERS ON THE LET. VI. ' own/ Having thus spoken, he turned and left ' the castle.' — Legend of Montrose, last chapter. The despair of Rhoderick Dhu, on Douglas's rejection of his suit to Ellen, displays in a striking manner the united skill of painter and dramatist. '' Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode. The waving of his tartans broad. And darkened brow, where wounded pride With ire and disappointment vied. Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light. Like the ill Daemon of the night Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway Upon the nighted pilgrim's way : But, unrequited Love ! thy dart Plunged deepest its envenomed smart. And Roderick with thine anguish stung, At length the hand of Douglas wrung. While eyes that mocked at tears before. With bitter drops were running o'er. • The death-pangs of long-cherished hope Scarce in that ample breast had scope. But, struggling with his spirit proud. Convulsive heaved its chequer'd shroud. While every sob— so mute were all — Was heard distinctly through the hall." Ladi/ of the Lake, Canto II. St. 33. The soliloquy of Glossin, as he watches the escape of his confederate Hatteraick, is another fine example : * Glossin now arose, and looked out upon the LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 145 ' night' — * His eye was upon the gigantic and gloomy ' outhnes of the old castle, where, in a flanking * tower of enormous size and thickness, glimmered * two lights, one from the window of the strong ' room, where Hatteraick was confined, the other * from the adjacent apartment occupied by his ' keepers."' — ' He observed one of the lights ob- ' scured, as by an opake body placed at the win- ' dow. What a moment of interest ! ' He has got ' clear of his irons ! he is working at the stancheons ' of the window — they are surely quite decayed, * they must give way — O God ! they have fallen ' outward, I heard them clink among the stones ! * the noise cannot fail to wake them — furies seize ' his Dutch awkwardness ! — The light burns free * again — they have torn him from the window, and ' are binding him in the room ! No ! he had only ' retired an instant on the alarm of the falling * bars — he is at the window again — the light is * quite obscured now — he is getting out !' * A heavy sound, as of a body dropped from a * height among the snow, announced that Hat- ' teraick had completed his escape, and shortly ' after Glossin beheld a dark figure, hke a shadow, ' steal along the whitened beach, and reach the ' spot where the skiff* lay. New cause for fear ! ' ' His single strength will be unable to float her,' * said Glossin to himself; ' I must go to the rascal's 146 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. ' assistance. But no ! he has got her off, and now, * thank God ! her sail is spreading itself against ' the moon — ay, he has got the breeze now — would ' to Heaven it were a tempest to sink him to the ' bottom !' — Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 12. The liveliness and air of truth which these writers have given to their narrative and de- scriptive passages, is attained sometimes by the felicitous combination of several particulars at once natural and striking ; sometimes by the opportune suggestion of a single circumstance so manifestly proper to the occasion, that, having it before us, we cannot conceive the action to have happened without it, yet so far unexpected, that it appears unlikely to have entered the imagination of a per- son contriving a fictitious story, or to have en- gaged any man's notice except in connexion with real facts. The following descriptions owe their vivacity and truth of effect to the cause first mentioned : ' It was with such feelings that I eyed the ap- ' proach of the new coach lately established on our ' road, and known by the name of the Somerset. — ' The distant tremulous sound of its wheels was ' heard just as I gained the summit of the gentle ' ascent, called the Goslin-brae, from which you ' command an extensive view down the valley of ' the river Gander/ — * I must own I have had LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVER I.BY. 147 ' great pleasure in watching the approach of the ' carriage, where the openings of the road permit it ' to be seen. The gay glancing of the equipage, its ' diminished and toy-like appearance at a distance, ' contrasted with the rapidity of its motion, its ' appearance and disappearance at intervals, and ' the progressively increasing sounds that announce ' its nearer approach, have all to the idle and list- ' less spectator, who has nothing more important ' to attend so, something of awakening interest.' — ' On the present occasion, however, fate had de- ' creed that I should not enjoy the consummation * of the amusement, by seeing the coach rattle past ' me as I sat on the turf, and hearing the hoarse ' grating voice of the guard, as he skimmed forth ' for my grasp the expected packet, without the ' carriaoje checking its course for an instant. I * had seen the vehicle thunder down the hill that ' leads to the bridge with more than its usual im- ' petuosity, glittering all the while by flashes from ' a cloudy tabernacle of the dust which it had ' raised, and leaving a train behind it on the road ' resembling a wreath of summer mist. But it did ' not appear on the top of the nearer bank within ' the usual space of three minutes.' — Heart of Mid Lot Man J introductory chapter. Robert Bruce and his brother finding themselves benighted in the Sound of Mull, put their vessel about, and run before the wind. I Q 148 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. *' The helm, to his strong arm consign'd. Gave the reef'd sail to meet the wind. And on her alter'd way. Fierce bounding, forward sprung the ship. Like greyhound starting from the slip To seize his flying prey. Awaked before the rushing prow. The mimic fires of ocean glow. Those lightnings of the wave ; Wild sparkles crest the broken tides. And flashing round, the vessel's sides With elvish lustre lave. While, far behind, their livid light To the dark billows of the night A gloomy splendour gave." Lord of the Isles, Canto L St. 21. The movements of horsemen crossing a river are thus roughly but expressively depicted : " They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides. Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, And on the opposing shore take ground. With plash, with scramble, and with bound." Ladi/ of the Lake, Canto V. St. j8. ' ' See,' says Waverley'^s Highland guide, ' there ' is an earn, which you Southerns call an eagle — ' YOU have no such bird as that in England — he is * going to fetch his supper from the Laird of Brad- ' wardine's braes, but I '11 send a slug after him.' * He fired his piece accordingly, but missed the LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 149 ' superb monarch of the feathered tribes, who, ' without noticing the attempt to annoy him, con- * tinued his majestic flight to the southward. A ' thousand birds of prey, hawks, kites, carrion ' crows, and ravens, disturbed from the lodgings ' which they had just taken up for the evening, ' rose at the report of the gun, and mingled their ' hoarse and discordant notes with the echoes ' which replied to it, and with the roar of the * mountain cataracts. Evan, a little disconcerted ' at having missed his mark, when he meant to ' have displayed peculiar dexterity, covered his ' confusion by whistUng part of a pibroch, as he ' reloaded his piece, and proceeded in silence up ' the pass.' — fVaverlej/, vol. i. ch. 16. In the examples I will now offer, the effect de- pends principally on a single well-conceived circum- stance, which imposes on the imagination, some- times by a striking conformity to general nature ; as in the next two quotations: *' A barge across Loch-Katrine flewj * * * -x- * * So rapidly the bargemen row. The bubbles, where they launched the boat. Were all unbroken and afloat. Dancing in foam and ripple still. When it had neared the mainland hill.*' Ladi/ of the Lake, Canto III. St. 12. 150 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. * A terrible shout soon announced that the door ' had kindled, and was in the act of being de- ' stroyed. The fire was suffered to decay, but, ' long ere it was quite extinguished, the most for- ' ward of the rioters rushed, in their impatience, * one after another, over its yet smouldering re- ' mains. Thick showers of sparkles rose high in ' the air, as man after man bounded over the glow- * ing embers, and disturbed them in their passage.* —Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. i. ch. 5. Sometimes by an unexpected yet apparently na- tural and unforced coincidence with some other part of the narrative ; as in the following instances : ' It was on this ominous spot that Lucy Ashton ' first drew breath after her long and almost deadly ' swoon. Beautiful and pale — she was seated so as ' to rest with her back against a part of the ruined ' wall, while her mantle, dripping with the water, ' which her protector had used profusely to recall * her to her senses, clung to her slender and beauti- ' fully proportioned form.' — Bride of Lammermoor, vol. i. ch. 5. In the perilous return of Fitz- James from his second visit to Loch-Katrine — " All in the Trosach's glen was still. Noontide was sleeping on the hill: Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — ' Murdoch! was that a signal cry?' LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 151 He stammered forth, * I shout to scare Yon raven from his dainty fare.' He look'd — he knew the raven's prey. His own brave steed : — ' Ah gallant grey ! For thee — for me perchance — 'twere well We ne'er had seen the Trosach's dell. — Murdoch move first — but silently j Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die.' " Lady of the Lake, Canto IV. St. 20. And sometimes by a similar correspondence with the costume and habits of the period, or of the in- dividual concerned. As in these examples : ' Julian Avenel, enraged at' the firmness of this ' reply, flung from his right hand the cup in which ' he was about to drink to his guest, and from the ' other cast off the hawk, which flew wildly through * the apartment. His first motion was to lay hand ' upon his dagger. But changing his resolution, ' he exclaimed, ^ To the dungeon with this insolent ' stroller ! — I will hear no man sj)eak a word for ' him. — Look to the falcon, Christie, thou fool — ' an she escape, I will dispatch you after her every ' man. — Away with that hypocritical dreamer ! drag ' him hence if he resist.' * He was obeyed in both points — Christie of the * Clinthill arrested the hawk's flight, by putting his ' foot on her jesses, and so holding her fast, while * Henry Warden was led off.' — Monastery, vol. ii. ch. 11. 152 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi, ** 111 vain ! no torrent, deep or broad. Might bar the bold moss-trooper's road. At the first plunge the horse sunk low. And the water broke o'er the saddle-bow; Above the foaming tide, I ween. Scarce half the charger's neck was seen ; For he was barded from counter to tail. And the rider was armed complete in mail." Lai/ of the Last Minstrel, Canto I. St. 28, 29. * 'Here's my brother's son, Dick Grahame' — * ' he shall take a flag of truce and a trumpet, and * ride down to the edge of the morass to summon * them to lay down their arms and disperse.' ' ' With all my soul, Colonel,' answered the ' cornet, 'and I '11 tie my cravat on a pike to serve ' for a white flag — the rascals never saw such a * pennon of Flanders lace in their lives before/ ' — Tales of My Landlord^ First Series, vol. iii. ch. 2. In pointing out the faculty which these authors exert, of comprehending at once, in the mind's eye, both the general effect of a scene, and the mutual bearing of its several parts, I should have added, but for interrupting the course of observation, that they possess, in subserviency to this talent, the power of embracing with the same masterly and accurate coup d'ml^ all the external appearances that characterize individual persons. Their scru- pulous particularity in the description of phy- siognomy, demeanour, form, and even dress, often LET. VI, AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 153 imparts to their stories the air of real memoirs^ Where, indeed, the fable treats of personages who have actually existed, such minuteness is not sur- prising, because we then conclude that the details are borrowed from some picture, or sculptured monu- ment, or written record ; but it is a distinguishing mark of strong and original fancy to bestow on a fictitious character, not merely the general cast of countenance and figure which we are accustomed to associate with certain quahties and habits, and the outline of a suitable costume, but also such peculiarities, both of aspect and of external orna- ment, as obhge us to imagine that we see the copy of an individual, not the abstract of a class. Any writer, attentive to minute points of tra- dition, might have represented John Balfour, or the Marquis of Argyle with an oblique cast of vision*; but the scar on Bois-Guilberfs stem brow, which had communicated " a sinister expression," and a slight appearance of distortion, to one of his eyesi", is the stroke by which an accomplished artist gives his fancy-piece the air of a portrait. I have, several times, I believe, applied to our novelist and poet expressions drawn from the art of painting. These suggest themselves the more naturally, as the attachment of both to that fascin- * Old Mortality, ch. iv. — Legend of Montrose, last vol. ch. iv. f Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. ii. 154 LETTERS ON THE let. vi. ating study is so strongly evinced, not only by the picturesque character of their descriptions, but by their frequent incidental notice of the most re- nowned masters. I am not sure that, in some instances, they do not become the worse poets by being themselves too good painters. Occasionally, at least, their descriptions are so conceived as to re- mind us more of a picture than of a natural scene ; not from any want of poetic beauty or propriety in the several images, but from the obviously pictorial taste with which they are selected and combined. Let me offer, as a specimen, the following com- positions : '^ ——On his course obliquely shone The narrow valley of Saint John, Down sloping to the western sky. Where lingering sun-beams love to lie. Right glad to feel those beams again. The king drew up his charger's rein 3 With gauntlet raised he screen' d his sight. As dazzled with the level light. And, from beneath his glove of mail, Scann'd at his ease the lovely vale. While 'gainst the sun his armour bright, Gleam'd ruddy like the beacon's light." Bridal of Triermain, Canto I. St. 12. * Evening again found him,' (the Black Dwarf), ' seated on his favourite stone. The sun setting ' red, and among seas of rolling clouds, threw a LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 155 ' gloomy lustre over the moor, and gave a deeper ' purple to the broad outline of heathy mountains ' which surrounded this desolate spot. The dwarf ' sat watching the clouds as they lowered above ' each other in masses of conglomerated vapours, ' and, as a strong lurid beam of the sinking luminary ' darted full on his soHtary and uncouth figure, he ' might well have seemed the demon of the storm ' which was gathering, or some gnome summoned ' forth from the recesses of the earth by the sub- ' terranean signals of its approach. As he sate ' thus, with his eye turned toward the scowling ' and blackening heaven, a horseman rode rapidly ' towards him, and stopping, as if to let his horse ' breathe for an instant, made a sort of obeisance to ' the anchoret, with an air betwixt effrontery and ' embarrassment/ — ' He wore a rusted steel head- ' piece, a buff jacket of rather an antique cast, ' gloves, of which that for the right hand was ' covered with small scales of iron, like an ancient ' gauntlet; and a long broad-sword completed his ' equipage.' — Black Dwarfs ch. 6. " And well that Palmer's form and mien Had suited with the stormy scene. Just on the edge, straining his ken To view the bottom of the den. Where, deep, deep down, and far within. Toils with the rocks the roaring linn." Marmion, Introduction to Canto II. 15G LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. If these descriptions have an appearance of being- borrowed from the painters, there are many, on the other hand, which seem to have been thrown out as a challenge to that profession. Such for instance is the reception of Waverley by Flora Mc Ivor, at the cascade, her handmaid attending with the harp, and the whole scene being enriched by the beams of a setting sun*. Such, too, is the group of Ellen Douglas, watching Fitz-James's departure, with Allan-bane, reclined against the blighted tree, by her side-f*. Another, in some respects very similar, is that of Miss Wardour conversing from a window with Edie Ochiltree, who is basking on the bench in the court-yard J. And I think I need not call to your remembrance the pathetic meeting between David Deans and his daughter, at Roseneath, which the novelist expresses so earnest a wish to see sketched by his ' friends Wilkie or Allan §/ . From this pictorial turn of a mind habitually disposed to the study of nature in all her aspects, arises another striking peculiarity; the marked at- tention of both writers to what is called in painting Chiaroscuro. There are, comparatively speaking, very few poetical descriptions in the works of either, which do not owe part of their beauty to the distri- ♦ Waverley, vol. i. ch. 22. f Lady of the Lake, Canto ii. St. 4, 5. X Antiquary, vol. i. ch. 12. § Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. iv. ch. 5. LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 157 bution of the light and shade ; this, indeed, appears to be the circumstance that first strikes the imagina- tion of each, when he figures any scene to himself; and they sometimes even step aside from the direct course of narrative, to point out some remarkable appearance of illumination or obscurity. Thus, in the conversation between Miss Vere and the Black Dwarf, we are told that the recluse at one time, " laid his hand with a fierce smile on the long dagger which he always wore beneath his garment, and unsheathed it so far that the blade glimmered clear in the fire-light*/"' And when Redmond bore Wilfrid from the blazing hall of Rokeby, " Beneath an oak he laid him down. That in the blaze gleam'd ruddy brown." Canto V. St. 37. I could not, in any convenient number of extracts, do justice to the infinite copiousness and felicity of invention with which the two authors have dealt out their flashes, gleams, glares, sparkles, blazes, sunshine, moonlight, and reflections of all these from water and from metal -|-; but I am tempted * Chapter vii. f We are presented with some striking effects of torch-light in Guy Mannering, Vol. II. ch. 5. The Black Dwarf, ch. 18. Legend of Montrose, ch. 4. Marmion, Canto VI. St. 11. And of fire-light, Marmion, Canto III. St. 6, 7. Guy Mannering, Vol III. ch. 15. 158 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. to copy the two following descriptions, by their strong mutual resemblance. Both are highly poetical, more particularly the passage from the novels, and it seems evident to me that both are the work of one poet. " Then sudden through the darkened air A flash of lightning came ; So broad, so bright, so red the glare. The castle seem'd on flame 3 Glanced every rafter of the hall. Glanced every shield upon the wall. Each trophied beam, each sculptured stone. Were instant seen, and instant gone; Full through the guests' bedazzled band Resistless flashed the levin-brand. And filled the hall with smouldering smoke. As on the elvish Page it broke j It broke with thunder long and loud. Dismayed the brave, appalled the proud. From sea to sea the larum rung j On Berwick wall, and at Carlisle withal. To arms the startled warders sprung. When ended was the dreadful roar. The elvish Dwarf was seen no more !" Lai/ of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI. St. 26. Kenilworth, Vol. I. ch. 10. A beautiful gleam of reflected sun-shine, Waverley, Vol. I. ch. 8. Contrasts of moonlight and lamplight, Rokebv, Canto V. St. 31. Antiquary, Vol. II. ch. 6. Compositions after Rembrandt, Antiquary, Vol. III. ch. 3. Heart of Mid-Lothian, Vol. I. ch. 11. Ivanhoe, Vol. 11. ch. 8. LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 159 ' He saluted her, as the ceremonial of the time * enjoined upon such occasions. Their cheeks had * touched and were withdrawn from each other — ' Ravenswood had not quitted the hand which he ' had taken in kindly courtesy — a blush, which ' attached more consequence by far than was usual * to such ceremony, still mantled on Lucy Ash ton's ' beautiful cheek, when the apartment was sud- ' denly illuminated by a flash of lightning, which ' seemed absolutely to swallow the darkness of the ' hall. Every object might have been for an instant ' seen distinctly. The slight and half sinking form * of Lucy Ashton, the well proportioned and stately ' figure of Ravenswood, his dark features, and the ' fiery, yet irresolute expression of his eyes — the ' old arms and scutcheons which hung on the walls * of the apartment, were for an instant distinctly ' visible to the Keeper by a strong red brilliant ' glare of light. Its disappearance was almost in- ' stantly followed by a burst of thunder, for the ' storm cloud was very near the castle ; and the ' peal was so sudden and dreadful, that the old ' tower rocked to its foundation, and every inmate * concluded it was falling on them. The soot, ' which had not been disturbed for centuries, ' showered down the huge tunnelled chimnies — ^ lime and dust flew in clouds from the wall; and * whether the lightning had actually struck the * castle, or whether through the violent concussion 160 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. ' of the air, several heavy stones were hurled from ' the mouldering battlements into the roaring sea ' beneath. It might seem as if the ancient founder ' of the castle was bestriding the thunder-storm, ' and proclaiming his displeasure at the recon- ' ciliation of his descendant with the enemy of his ' house.' — Bride of Lammermoor, Vol. I. ch. 9- The next two passages have also a strong family likeness — '^ Through narrow loop and casement barr'd. The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, And, struggling with the smoky air. Deadened the torches' yellow glare. In comfortless aUiance shone The lights through arch of blackened stone. And showed wild shapes in garb of war. Faces deformed with beard and scar. All haggard from the midnight watch," &c. Ladi/ of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 2. ' There is no period at which men look worse in ' the eyes of each other, or feel more uncomfortable, ' than when the first dawn of daylight finds them ' watchers. . . Such was the pale, inauspicious, and ' ungrateful light, which began to beam upon those ^ who kept watch all night in the hall at Say's ' Court, and which mingled its cold pale blue dif- ' fusion with the red, yellow, and smoky beams of ' expiring lamps and torches. The young gallant LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 161 ' . . was so struck with the forlorn and ghastly aspects of his companions of the watch, that he ' exclaimed/ &;c. — KeiiUworthy Vol. II. ch. 3. A mixture of lights is also very poetically de- scribed in this sentence : ^ From behind the same projection glimmered a ' strong red hght/ (that of Burley's fire in the cavern), ' which, glancing in the waves of the ' falling water, and tinging them partially with ' crimson, had a strange preternatural and sinister ' effect when contrasted with the beams of the ' rising sun, which glanced on the first broken ' waves of the fall, though even its meridian ' splendour could not gain the third of its full ' depth;— 0/J Mortality, last Voh ch. 14. ^ A similar effect is thus again pointed out : * The table at which the earl was seated was ' lighted with two lamps wrought in silver, shed- ' ding that unpleasant and doubtful light which ' arises from the mingling of artificial lustre with ' that of general daylight,' — Atitiquarj/, Vol. II. ch. 13. The following moonlight scenes have great and very similar beauties : ' A sharp frost wind, which made itself heard ' and felt from time to time, removed the clouds ' of mist which might otherwise have slumbered ' till morning on the valley; and, though it could M 163 LETTERS ON THE LET. \I. ' not totally disperse the clouds of vapour, yet ' threw them in confused and changeful masses, ^ now hovering round the heads of the mountains, ' now filling, as with a dense and voluminous ' stream of smoke, the various deep gullies where ' masses of the composite rock, or brescia, tumbling ' in fragments from the cliffs, have rushed to the ' valley, leaving each behind its course a rent and ' torn ravine, resembling a deserted water-course. ' The moon, which was now high, and twinkled ' with all the vivacity of a frosty atmosphere, sil- ' vered the windings of the river, and the peaks ' and precipices which the mist left visible, while ' her beams seemed, as it were, absorbed by the * fleecy whiteness of the mist, where it lay thick ' and condensed ; and gave to the more light and ' vapoury specks^ which were elsewhere visible, a ' sort of filmy transparency resembling the lightest ' veil of silver gauze.' — Rob Roy, Vol. III. ch. 6. '' Till when, through hills of azure borne. The moon renew'd her silver horn. Just at the time her waning ray Had faded in the dawning day, A summer mist arose j Adown the vale the vapours float. And cloudy undulations moat That tufted mound of mystic note. As round its base they close. LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 163 And higher now the fleecy tide Ascends its stern and shaggy side. Until the airy billows hide The rock's majestic islej It seemed a veil of filmy lawn. By some fantastic fairy drawn Around enchanted pile. " The breeze came softly down the brook. And sighing as it blew. The veil of silver mist it shook. And to De Vaux's eager look Renew'd that wondrous view : For, though the loitering vapour braved The gentle breeze, yet oft it waved Its mantle's dewy fold ; And still, when shook that filmy screen. Were towers and bastions dimly seen, Aud Gothic battlements between Their gloomy length unroll'd." Bridal of Triermain , Canto III. St. 11, 12*. The praise of truth, precision, and distinctness, is not very frequently combined with that of ex- tensive magnificence and splendid complication of imagery; yet how masterly, and often subhme, is the panoramic display, in all these works, of vast and diversified scenery, and of crowded and tumul- * I must also refer you here to two beautiful moonlight landscapes, in Waveiley, Vol. I. ch. 16, and the Heart of Mid-Lothian, Vol. IV. ch. 9. m2 164 LETTERS ON THE LF.T. vi. tuous action ! how brilliant and glowing are the land and sea prospects, the views, external and internal, of majestic cities, the festivals, processions, and above all, the military evolutions and battles. Is it possible for language to depict more vividly than in the following sentences, the agitation of a various and strongly contrasted assembly, on the verge of civil dissension ? ' ' To be a guest in the house where I should * command r said the Templar, * Never. — Chap- * lains, raise the psalm, Quare freimierurit Geiites r^ * — Knights, squires, and followers of the Holy * Temple, prepare to follow the banner of Bean- ' seant /' ' The Grand Master spoke with a dignity which * confronted even that of England's king himself, ' and inspired courage into his surprised and dis- ' mayed followers. They gathered around him like « the sheep around the watch-dog, when they hear ' the baying of the wolf But they evinced not the * timidity of the scared flock — there were dark * brows of defiance, and looks which menaced the ' hostility they dared not to proffer in words. — * They drew together in a dark line of spears, ' from which the white cloaks of the knights were ' visible among the dusky garments of their re- * tainers, like the lighter coloured edges of a sable * cloud. The multitude, who had raised a clamorous * shout of reprobation, paused and gazed in silence LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVEULF.Y. 165 ' on the formidable and experienced body to which ' they had unwarily bade defiance, and shrunk back ' from their front. ' The Earl of Essex, when he beheld them pause ' in their assembled force, dashed the rowels into his * charger's side, and galloped backwards and for- * wards to array his followers, in opposition to a ' band so formidable. Richard alone, as if he loved ' the danger his presence had provoked, rode slowly ' along the front of the Templars, calling aloud, ' ' What, sirs ! among so many gallant knights, will ' none dare splinter a spear with Richard ? Sirs * of the Temple ! your ladies are but sun-burned, ' if they are not worth the shiver of a broken * lance !' ' — Iva7ihoe, Vol. III. ch. .1 4. A trace of the same hand may, perhaps, be dis- cerned in these lines : *' Then uproar wild and misarray Marr'd the fair form of festal day. The horsemen pricked among the crowd. Repelled by threats and insult loud ; ■ -K- * * * * At once round Douglas darkly sweep The royal spears in circle deep, And slowly scale the pathway steep ; While on their rear in thunder pour The rabble with disordered roar/* Ladi/ of the Lakcj Canto V. St. 27. The marching of troops is a favourite theme with 166 LETTERS ON THE LET. VI. both writers : you will judge by the following ex- tracts how far they differ in their conception of this subject : *' Soon on the hill's steep verge he stood, That looks o'er Branksome's towers and wood ; And martial murmurs, from below. Proclaimed the approaching southern foe. Through the dark wood, in mingled tone. Were Border-pipes and bugles blown ; The coursers' neighing he could ken. And measured tread of marching men ; While broke at times the solemn hum. The Almayn's sullen kettle-drum j And banners tall of crimson sheen. Above the copse appear j And glistening through the hawthorns green. Shine helm, and shield, and spear. <' Light forayers first, to viev^ the ground. Spurred their fleet- coursers loosely rounds Behind in close array and fast. The Kendal archers, all in green, Obedient to the bugle-blast. Advancing from the wood were seen." Lay of the last Minstrel, Canto IV. St. 13, 14. * The Abbot, without reply, cast his eyes towards ' the path or road, which winding round the moun- ' tain, descends upon Kennaquhair from the south- * ward. He beheld at a distance a cloud of dust, f and heard the neighing of many horses, while the ' occasional sparkle of the long line of spears, as LET. VI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 167 ' they came downwards into the valley, announced * that the band came thither in arms. ' * They are Scottish men, when all is done,' ex- ' claimed Edward — ' I see the white crosses — it ' may be the Western borderers, or Fernieherst * and his clan." ' A distant trampling was at length heard, and the * glance of spears was seen to shine through the * trees above the village. The sounds increased ' and became more thick, one close conthiuous * rushing sound, in which the tread of hoofs was ' mingled with the ringing of armour. The horse- ' men soon appeared at the principal entrance * which leads into the irregular square, or market- * place which forms the centre of the village.' — Mo7iasteri/, Vol. III. ch. 12. '' Is it the thunder's solemn sound That mutters deep and dread ; Or echoes from the groaning ground The warrior's measured tread ? Is it the lightning's quivering glance That on the thicket streams. Or do they flash on spear and lance The sun's retiring beams ? I see the dagger crest of Mar, I see the Moray's silver star. 168 LETTEllS ON THE LET. VT. Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war. That up the lake comes winding far ! ^ * * -X- * No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, Still were the pipe and drum ; Save heavy tread, and armour's clang, The sullen march was dumb." Ladj/ *f the. Lake, Canto VI. St, 15, 16. ' Their glimmering ranks were shortly after- ' wards seen in the distance, appearing and disap- ' pearing as the trees and the windings of the road ' permitted them to be visible, and distinguished ' chiefly by the flashes of light which their arms oc- ' casionally reflected against the sun ' The officers alone, with their colours and an escort ' to guard them, were seen to take the steep road. ' up to the gate of the Tower, appearing by inter- * vals as they gained the ascent, and again hidden ' by projections of the bank, and of the huge old ' trees with which it is covered. When they ' emerged from this narrow path, they found them- « selves in front of the old Tower.' — Tales of Mi/ Landlord, 1st Series, Vol. II. ch. 11. ** Beneath th,e cavern'd cliflf they fall. Beneath the castle's airy walL By rock, by oak, by hawthorn tree. Troop after troop are disappearing j Troop after troop their banners rearing Upon the eastern bank you see. LET. VI. AUTHOR or WAVERLEY. 169 Still pouring down the rocky den Where flows the sullen Till, And rising from the dim-wood glen. Standards on standards, men on men, ^ In slow succession still. , * * * * * " Yet more ! yet more ! how fair array' d They file from out the hawthorn shade, And sweep so gallant by ! With all their banners bravely spread. And all their armour flashing high, St. George might waken from the dead. To see fair England's standards fly." Marmion, Canto VI. St. 19. 21. Of those occasional ornaments for which a writer of genius delights to step aside from the direct course of narrative, the most remarkable in the works be- fore us are the Similes, which are very frequent, and in general distinguished either by the poetic beauty and elegance of the images, or by the felicity, and even wittiness of the application. I will offer two or three specimens which appear to me excellent in both respects. " Now must she see her lover strain, At every turn, her feeble chain. Watch to new bind each knot, and shrink To view each fast decaying link. Art she invokes to Nature's aid. Her vest to zone, her locks to braid : Each varied pleasure heard her call. The feast, the tourney, and the ball : 170 LETTERS ON THE LET. vi. Her storied lore she next applies^, Taxing her mind to aid her eyes ; Now more than mortal wise, and then In female softness sunk again 3 Now raptured;, with each wish complying, With feign'd reluctance now denying j Each charm she varied to retain A varying heart, and all in vain ! ^' Thus in the garden's narrow bound, Flank'd by some castle's Gothic round. Fain would the artist's skill provide. The limits of his realm to hide, The walks in labyrinths he twines. Shade after shade with skill combines. With many a varied flowery knot, ^ And copse and arbour decks the spot, Tempting the hasty foot to stay. And linger on the lovely way — Vain art ! vain hope ! 'tis fruitless all ! At length we reach the bounding wall. And, sick of flower and trim-dress'd tree. Long for rough glades and forest free." Bridal of Triermain, Canto IL St. 4, 5. ' I feel the terrors of a child, who has, in heed- ' less sport, put in motion some powerful piece uf ' machinery ; and while he beholds wheels revolv- ' ing, chains clashing, cylinders rolling around him, * is equally astonished at the tremendous powers < which his weak agency has called into action, and ' terrified for the consequences which he is com- ' polled to await, without the possibility of averting ' them.' — Gui/ Manncring^ Vol. II. ch, 10. LET. M. AUTHOR OF WAVEllLEY. 171 <' He smoothM his brows^, as best he might, To the dread calm of autumn night. When sinks the tempest's roar 3 Yet still the cautious fishers eye The clouds, and fear the gloomy sky. And haul their barks on shore." Harold the DauntU-ss, Canto II. St. 8. ' Neither was his eagerness proportioned in all ' cases to the motive of impulse, but might be com- ' pared to the speed of a stone, which rushes with ' like fury down the bill, whether it was first put in ' motion by the arm of a giant, or the hand of a ' boy.' — Bride of lAimmermoor, Vol. I. ch. 8. • The mind of England's Elizabeth .... was like * one of those ancient Druidical monuments, called ' Rocking-stones. The finger of Cupid, boy as he * is painted, could put her feelings in motion, ' but the power of Hercules could not have de- ' stroyed their equilibrium.' — Kenilworth, Vol. III. ch. 9. " My soul, though feminine and weak. Can image his 3 e'en as the lake. Itself disturb' d by slightest stroke. Reflects the invulnerable rock.' Lady of the Lake, Canto IV. St. 10. ! His hand is on a shallop's bow. Just then a flash of lightning came : It tinged the waves and strand with flame. — I marked Duncraggan's widow'd dame. Behind an oak I saw her stand, A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : It darkened — but amid the moan Of waves, I heard a dying groan j — Another flash ! — the spearman floats A weltering corse beside the boats ; And the stern Matron o'er him stood. Her hand and dagger streaming blood." Lady of the Lake, canto vi. st. 20. An incident of the same class, and remarkable both for its fantastic effect, and for the improbable means and abrupt manner of its accomplishment, is the interruption of Miss Vere^s marriage, by the Black Dwarf issuing from behind a monument in the family chapel, and proclaiming himself the rightful lord of Ellieslaw, his pretensions being supported by a party who had opportunely assem- LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 195 bled in arms for another purpose, at the moment when their aid was wanted in this adventure ; and the plot having been still further assisted by the castle doors standing all open, and the servants beinff all intoxicated *. Another scene of the same character occurs in Rokeby f , where Philip Mor- tham, supposed to have been assassinated at Mars- ton-Moor, starts up from behind the tomb of his wife exactly in time to parry the stab which Rising- ham aims at Wilfrid. To vary narrative by the introduction of detached lyrical pieces, is a practice resorted to with cha- racteristic frequency by the poet, and occasionally, though more sparingly, adopted by the novelist. In this, too, both, at times, become a little thea- trical. The scene contrived for ^^^averley by Miss Mac-Ivor, at the cascade, where, after terrifying the Southron by a display of her activity in walk- ing ' over four-inched bridores.' she seats herself on a mossy fragment of rock, at a convenient distance from the waterfall, and touching her harp, pours forth a long but spirited Jacobite invocation +, is got up with too evident an attention to stage effect; and the performance of Ellen Douglas before Fitz- James, under circumstances not very dissimilar, has something of the same fault. • Black Dwarf, ch. 18. + Canto ii. st. 17 to 21. ^ Waverley, vol. i. ch. 2'2. o2 190 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. '' * 'Tis thus our charmed rhymes we sing/ She sung, and still a harp unseen Fill'd up the symphony between. She paused — then, blushing, led the lay To grace the stranger of the day ; Her mellow notes awhile prolong The cadence of the flowing song. Till to her lips in measured frame The minstrel verse spontaneous came." Lady of the Lake, Canto I. St. 30, 32. Waverley having caused inquiry to be made respecting the expressions applied to himself by Fergus's Celtic bard, ' Una returned in a few ' minutes, and repeated to her mistress a few lines * in Gaelic. Flora seemed to think for a moment, ' and then slightly colouring, she turned to Waver- ' ley — ' It is impossible to gratify your curiosity, * Captain Waverley, without exposing my own * presumption. If you will give me a few mo- ' ments for consideration, I will endeavour to ' engraft the meaning of these lines upon a rude ' English translation,' ' &c. — Waverley ^ vol. i. ch. S2. We now and then find entire songs deliberately executed in situations which are usually (except in operas,) considered the most uninviting to vocal exhibition. Thus, in the Lady of the Lake, a bridegroom summoned away in the midst of the LET. VII. AUTHOR OF waverij:y. 197 nuptial ceremony, to forward Sir Roderick's fiery cross, breaks out in ' voluntary song,' and com- pletes three long stanzas of the impromptu, while * glancing o'er bank and brae,' with the speed of ' fire from flint*.' And I have already men- tioned the passage of Ivanhoe, where the Saxon virago chants fifty lines of martial poetry from the top of a burning castle in which she is about to perish. It has been frequently noticed as a fault in the stories of both these authors, that the hero (by which name, according to romantic etiquette, we are to understand the personage who marries the heroine,) is not sufficiently important, and fails to maintain his legitimate pre-eminence above the other characters. This deficiency is^ I think, attributable, in different instances, to different causes, and not uniformly to the same, as critics seem to have assumed, who lay the whole blame on the general faultlessness or inactivity of these nominal heroes. One circumstance very common in the novels and poems, and highly disadvantageous to the principal personage, is, that during a great part of the story, he is made the blind or involuntary instrument of another's purposes, the attendant on another's will, and the sport of events over which * Canto iii. St. 22, 3. 198 LETTEllS ON THE LET. VII. he exercises no controul. Such, for example, is Waverley; a hero, who, from beginning to end of his history, is scarcely ever left upon his own hands, but appears almost always in the situation of pupil, guest, patient, protege, or prisoner ; en- gaged in a quarrel from which he is unconsciously extricated; half duped and half seduced into re- bellion ; ineffectually repenting ; snatched away by accident from his sinking party; by accident pre- served from justice ; and restored by the exertions of his friends to safety, fortune, and happiness. Such a hero is De Wilton, who is introduced as the vanquished rival of Marmion, becomes by mere chance the Baron's attendant and guide, and ob- tains in his execution of that office the means and opportunity of achieving the few acts we find re- corded of him. Malcolm Graeme, in the I^ady of the Lake, is a royal ward, without command of vassals or lands ; makes a truant expedition (for a generous purpose, indeed,) to Loch Katrine, where he hears the proposal of Roderick Dhu for the hand of Ellen discussed and rejected without his interference, draws on a momentary quarrel with the chieftain by a somewhat unseasonable act of gallantry, incurs the rebuke of Douglas, and, re- turning homewards, is consigned to prison, from which he is released at the end of the story by his mistress's interest with the Monarch. Henry Ber- tram might justly claim to be the hero of Guy LET. vir. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 199 Mannering, if perils, labours, and courageous achievements, could of themselves confer such a dignity; but it is difficult to consider him in that light, because we see him the mere king of a chess- board, advanced, withdrawn, exposed and protected, at the pleasure of those who play the game over his head. The character of Francis Osbaldistone is not too insipidly immaculate to engage sympathy or awaken curiosity; but it wants that commanding interest which should surround the first personage of a novel ; and the reason is, that in almost every part of the story we find him played upon as a dupe, disposed of as a captive, tutored as a novice, and unwittingly exciting indignation as a Marplot. Omitting other instances of the same kind, I will produce one character for the purpose of contrast. The Master of Ravenswood* performs fewer feats of knight-errantry than any of the worthies I have mentioned, except, perhaps, Malcolm Graeme: to shoot a bull; to cross swords with Bucklaw; to stare down and buffet Craigengelt; and (a more desperate venture than any) to brave the acrimony of Lady Ash ton, forms, I think, the sum of his achievements. Yet no individual in any of the novels or poems more completely maintains his pre-eminence as the hero; for the whole action depends upon, and centres in him : his ruling * Tales of my Landlord, 3d Series. — Bride ol Lamniermoor 200 LETTERS ON THE - LET. VI I. influence is always felt, whether he be absent or present ; and of all the passions, whether hatred, love, admiration, hope, or fear, which vary and animate the successive scenes, he is the grand, ultimate, and paramount object. It is also the misfortune of many heroes in these works to be constantly thrown into shade by some more prominent character. This is particularly the case with De Wilton and Graeme ; with Redmond O'Neale in Rokeby, who shrinks to a mere idle stripling beside the dignified Mortham and the awful barbarian Risingham ; with Ronald of the Isles, who, throughout the tale which takes its name from him, is evidently a subordinate agent to the real hero, Robert Bruce; with Waverley, with Henry Bertram, with Francis Osbaldistone, who plays a second part alternately to Diana Vernon, to Baillie Jarvie, to Rob Roy, and even to Rashleigh ; with Ivanhoe, whose best gifts dwindle to insignificance before the prowess and magnanimity of Richard, and the sense and fortitude of Rebecca: but such is not the predicament of Ravenswood, who preserves the same majestic ascendency over all the various characters, of whatever quality, humour, or disposition, with whom he is placed in contact. Another circumstance which has wrought irre- parable disadvantage to some heroes of great pro- mise, is their being suffered to remain so long LET. VII. AUTHOR OF AVAVERLEY. 201 inactive, as entirely to forfeit their importance, and almost to run the risk of being forgotten by slow or negligent readers. Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, and Lovel in the Antiquary, are placed in this situation ; and ^lalcolm Graime continues in retirement till we hardly wish for his return. But there is an error, if possible, still more fatal, which both the novelist and the poet have incau- tiously committed in more than one instance. It is in vain that the hero is kept almost perpetually in view, that he seeks desperate adventures, and defies danger and hardship; in vain that he moves con- spicuous, nay, pre-eminent, in most scenes, and, in many, engrosses our whole anxiety — if, upon some one important occasion, when the great interests of the story are at stake, and our concern in the action is wound up to its highest pitch, he is permitted to be absent, or, still worse, to stand by as an idle spectator. Heroic importance, like political in- fluence, or female ascendency, must be guarded with incessant care, for a moment's rivalry may some- times be fatal. In all the works of the novelist, there is no character of the same class more vigorously drawn, or variously illustrated, than that of Henry Morton : his qualities are such as at once compel our sympathy and command our respect, and many principal events of the story receive their whole impulse and direction from his will. But, during 202 LETTEllS ON THE LET. VII. those spirited and intensely agitating scenes with the insurgents at Loudonhill, which have never been surpassed by the present or perhaps by any other fabulous writer, Henry Morton is quietly seated on a hill, awaiting the event, and only con- trives at the close of the engagement to incur some danger by interposing in behalf of Lord Evandale. When the resolution is taken to defend Lady Margaret's castle, the moment, perhaps, at which the interest of the story arrives at its highest point, Henry Morton is hearing sermons in the fanatical camp. When his fellow-rebels appear before the council, and the enthusiast Macbriar is enduring torture with a martyr"'s constancy, Henry Morton is standing aloof, with his pardon in his hand, though not an unconcerned, yet a passive spectator. When the gallant Evandale falls a victim to his own high spirit and the baseness of his enemies, Henry Mor- ton, though hastening to his rescue, comes too late to succour, or to assist personally in avenging him. Thus, at several of the most important conjunctures, our whole interest and sympathy are demanded for Claverhouse, for Bothwell, for Cornet Grahame^ for Lord Evandale, and for the Covenanters ; while for Morton we have only the observation of Henri IV, to the brave Crillon, * Tu ri'y etois pas.' Malcolm Graeme is the * brave Crillon' of the Lady of the Lake ; Roderick Dhu is vanquished ; Malcolm is not there ; a battle is fought at Loch LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVEllLKY. 203 Katrine; he is not there; Douglas mixes in the royal sports, offends the king, and is borne off a prisoner; Malcolm is not there; the fair Ellen makes her way through the soldiery at Stirling Castle, and presses for access to the monarch ; Malcolm is not there. The protracted and total inactivity of a hero himself is not so fatal to his credit as the exploits performed by others without his participation. De Wilton is the Crillon of Flodden Field. In the magnificent and energetic description of that battle, our enthusiasm is excited for Surrey, Stanley, Tunstall, Dacre; we hang in suspense on the fates of Marmion, plunge eagerly into the fight with Blount and Fitz- Eustace, and look with sympathy and admiration on the deserted Clare. But when the damsel naturally asks, ^ Is * Wilton there ?' the poet does not care to give an answer ; and it matters little that after the battle is over, the slain buried, and the funeral oration spoken, we are charged, on pain of being set down as 'dull elves*,' to believe, that ' Turk Gregory ' never did such deeds in arms-|-,' as this same De Wilton. The character of Ivanhoe, again, suffers more in my opinion, by his quiescence during the siege of Torquilstone, than it gains by his gallant bear- * See canto vi. st. 38. f Henry IV. Part I. act v. so. 3. S04 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. ing at Ashby, or his truly chivalrous self-devotion in the lists at Templestowe ; and Waverley sinks into absolute insignificance, by sustaining only the part of a common spectator in the highly tragic scene of Mac-Ivor's and Evan Dhu's condemnation. There is, I think, in the minds of most readers, a natural and not ungenerous prejudice against him who, by whatever means, escapes from the disaster in which his party or friends are involved, and is seen enjoying security, or even pursuing his way to happiness, while they encounter their fate. Our affections and sympathies obstinately adhere to the falling, more especially if they fall bravely and becomingly ; we are disposed, at the same time, to entertain something like contempt for the in- glorious safety of those who survive the ruin ; and to cry out, like the indignant father of the last re- maining Horatius, ' Qu'il mourCit* !' The contrast of Henry Morton pardoned by the government and pursuing his fortune in Holland, with Mac- briar tortured and put to death, with Burley, a wanderer in the desert hills, and with so many other associates of their rebellion slain, persecuted, and proscribed, is almost fatal to the romantic in- terest of his character : and I do not know tliat I have ever cordially forgiven Waverley for not being * Corneille. Horace, acte iii. sc. 6". LET. VII. AUTPIOR OF WAVEIILF.Y. 205 hanged with Fergus Mac-Ivor; though the chief- tain, it must be owned, had by far the stronger vocation to that destiny. It would perhaps be too much to pronounce in general, that the dignity of a hero is compromised by his cherishing an unrequited passion. In sub- ordinate personages, as Wilfrid in Rokeby, Lord Evandale in Old Mortality, and Edward Glen- dinning in the Monastery, disappointment of this kind has an effect by no means ungraceful, nor is it any serious disparagement, even to the principal character, to be once denied, if ultimately suc- cessful, like Lovel in the Antiquary. But I think the hero appears in no very flattering light, when, after neglecting a lady who was willing to be won, for the sake of some haughtier beauty, he finds his suit rejected, not in favour of any earlier lover, but from mere disinclination, and at length, despairing of success, returns for consolation to the once slighted but still compassionate fair one, — " Flava excutitur Chloe, Rejectaeque patet janua Lydiae*." This proceeding, however frequent it may be in actual life, is not, I believe, very common in ro- mance; and we may therefore observe, as a re- markable coincidence, that the whole story, exactly * Hor. lib. iii. od. 9. 206 LETTERS ON THE LET. VII. as I have given it, occurs once at least in the poems, and again in the novels. The Lord of the Isles, beloved by Edith, to whom he has long been contracted, takes advantage of a somewhat un- handsome pretext to throw off his engagement, and prefers his suit to Isabel, the sister of Bruce ; but when this lady has declined his addresses, and retired into a convent, he begins to perceive the merit of her affronted rival ; then *' dwells he on" her *' juster claims. And oft his breach of faith he blames*," and at length he decently resigns himself to her disposal on the field of Bannockburn. The situ- ation of Waverley with Miss Bradwardine and Flora Mac-Ivor is precisely the same, except that in this case there is no violated contract. The rejection here is accompanied with some appearance of contempt for the gallant's character ; and in both instances the inflexible damsel is so sincerely in- different, that she exerts considerable industry in promoting the revolt of her admirer. In Harold the Dauntless, a story not otherwise resembling either of those last mentioned, the pa- tient Eivir makes prize of the hero's rugged heart, after he has failed in his courtship to the outlaw's daughter. * Lord of the Isles, canto vi. st. 6. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 207 There is one peculiar circumstance which, from its frequent repetition in the stories of both writers, may be justly noted as characteristic ; and I men- tion it in this place, because it often serves to counterbalance, in some degree, the effect of those incidents which have been pointed out as diminish- ing the hero's importance. I have already praised the address with which our authors conduct their quarrels, and the skill and apparent experience in the use of arms dis- played in their single combats. In almost everv tale some conflict of this kind occurs, exciting a powerful interest both by the manner in which it is related, and by the momentous consequences de- pending on its issue. But it is stdl more remark- able that both the author of Waverley and the author of Marmion repeatedly (though, I believe, unconscious themselves of reiterating the same idea) introduce a personal struggle between two indi- viduals whose characters form nearly the same con- trast as those of Zerbino and Mandricardo, or Ruor- giero and Kodomonte; the one (usually the hero of the story) a preux chevalier, gallant, courteous, accomplished, and beloved; the other fierce, rude and lawless, possessing a giant's strength, and using it like a giant, yet so far respectable for his prowess, or recommended by'^some wild and irregular vir- tues, that we cannot look upon his fall w4th abso- lute unconcern. The gentler knight always proves 208 LETTERS ON THE LET. vil. victorious, or at least comes out of the conflict with honour. The most celebrated and striking incidents of this kind in the poems are the momentary encounter of Malcolm Graeme with Roderick Dhu, and the Chief- taints combat with Fitz- James ^\ Of the same class are Wilfrid's struggle with Risingham, and the en- gagement at Rokeby, where Redmond and Wilfrid are both opposed to the redoubted free-booter-(-. To these instances we may add the skirmish be- tween Baron Cranstoun, the fair Margaret's true knight, and the hardy moss-trooper, William of Deloraine. Let me now beg you to observe how the same kind of interest is excited in the novels by the same means. Ivanhoe is more than once the adversary of Bois-Guilbert ; Morton grapples with the ferocious Burleyj; and Henry Bertram (not indeed single-handed) with the Dutch Caliban Dirk Hatteraick^. In A Legend of Montrose, the courteous Menteith is furiously defied to combat by M'Aulay, but the Highlander's frantic impatience brings their quarrel to a premature issue ||. The hostile meeting of Lovel with the fiery and insolent M'Intyre is an adventure differing in some of its * Lady of the Lake, canto ii. st. 34, &c. Canto v. st. 1'2, &c. t Rokeby, canto ii. st. 20. Canto v. st. 33, &c. \ Old Mortality, last vol. ch. 14. § Guy Mannering, vol. iii. ch. 15. II Legend of Montrose, last chapter. LET. vii. AUTHOll OF WAVEllLEY. 209 circumstances from those I have just mentioned, but deriving all its strength of effect from the same opposition of a fierce, violent, and overbearing, to a mild, just, and temperate character*. It is true that in this instance both the champions are mo- dern gentlemen, natives of one country, and edu- cated in similar habits ; but every romance-reader knows that a story may have its Saracen without whiskers or turban, and the hero be menaced or the heroine disquieted by an Orson in epaulettes, or a Loupgarou de societe. Again, VVaverley finds an antagonist in Fergus Mac-Ivorf , and the skill and courage of Francis Osbaldistone are fearfully tasked by the malignity and ruffianly swordsmanship of RashleighJ. I have already, when criticising the dialogue of these authors, passed a just but imperfect enco- mium oUj their talent for the delineation of cha- racter. In the works of men uniting such copious- ness of invention with such nicety of discrimination, we must not expect, as in the productions of in- ferior writers, to find the same individual repeatedly brought upon the scene under a new name: but we may often discern a general family likeness be- tween personages of the same class in the novels and poems ; and there are some instances of close Antiquary, vol. ii. ch. 4, 5. f Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 11. 1 Rob Roy, vol. ii, ch. 12. P ^10 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. partial resemblance, to which I shall solicit your attention. Before we proceed to more particular comparison, I cannot help dwelling for a moment on the great similarity of manner apparent in the female portraits of the two writers. The pictures of their heroines are executed with a pecuhar fineness, delicacy, and minuteness of touch, and with a care at times almost amounting to timidity; so that they gene- rally appear more highly finished, but less boldly and strikingly thrown out, than the figures with which they are surrounded. Their elegance and purity are always admirable, and are happily com- bined, in most instances, with unaffected ease and natural spirit. Strong practical sense is their most prevailing characteristic, unaccompanied by any re- pulsive air of selfishness, pedantry, or unfeminine harshness. Few writers have ever evinced, in so strong a degree as the authors of Marmion and Waverley, that manly regard, and dignified but enthusiastic devotion, which may be expressed by the term loyalty to the fair sex, the honourable attribute of chivalrous and romantic ages. If they touch on the faults of womankind, their satire is playful, not contemptuous ; and their acquaintance with female manners, graces, and foibles, is ap- parently drawn, not from libertine experience, but from the guileless familiarity of domestic life. Of all human ties and connexions tliere is none I LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 211 SO frequently brought in view, or adorned with so many touches of the most affecting eloquence by both these writers, as the pure and tender relation of father and daughter. Douglas and Ellen in the Lady of the Lake will immediately occur to you as a distinguished example. Their mutual affection and solicitude; their pride in each other'*s excel- lencies ; the parenfs regret at the obscurity to which fate has doomed his child ; and the daughter's self- devotion to her father's welfare and safety, con- stitute the highest interest of the poem, and that which is most uniformly sustained; nor does this or any other romance of the same author contain a finer stroke of passion than the overboiUng of Douglas's wrath, when, mixed as a stranger with the crowd at Stirling, he sees his daughter's fa- vourite Lufra chastised by the royal huntsman. '^ The King's stout huntsman saw the sport By strange intruder broken short. Came up, and with his leash unbound. In anger struck the noble hound. — The Douglas had endured, that morn. The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn. And last, and worst to spirit proud. Had borne the pity of the crowd : But Lufra had been fondly bred. To share bis board, to watch his bed ; And oft would Ellen, Lufra's neck. In maiden glee, with garlands deck: r2 212 LETTERS ON THE LET. vil. They were such playmates, that with name Of Lufra, Ellen's image came. His stifled wrath is brimming high. In darken d brow and flashing eye ; As waves before the bark divide. The crowd gave way before his stride ; Needs but a buffbt and no more. The groom lies senseless in his gore. Such blow no other hand could deal. Though gauntletted in glove of steel." Ladt/ of the Lake, Canto V. St. 25. In Rokeby, the filial attachment and duteous anxieties of Matilda form the leading feature of her character, and the chief source of her distresses. The intercourse between King Arthur and his daughter Gyneth, in The Bridal of Triermain, is neither long nor altogether amicable ; but the mo- narch's feelings on first beholding that beautiful * slip of wilderness"^,' and his manner of receiving her before the queen and court f, are too forcibly and naturally described to be omitted in this enu- meration. Of all the novels there are at most but two or three J in which a fond father and affectionate daughter may not be pointed out among the prin- cipal characters, and in which the main interest of * Measure for Measure, act iii. sc. 1 . t Bridal of Triermain, canto ii. st. 14, 15. \ Old Mortality, Monastery, Abbot. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF AVAVERLEY. *213 many scenes does not arise out of that paternal and filial relation. What a beautiful display of na- tural feeling, under every turn of circumstances that can render the situations of child and parent agonizing or delightful, runs through the history of David Deans and his two daughters! How affecting is the tale of Leicester's unhappy Coun- tess, after we have seen her forsaken father con- suming away with moody sorrow in his joyless manor-house*! How exquisite are the grouping and contrast of Isaac, the kind but sordid Jew, and his heroic Rebecca, of the buckram Baron of Bradwardine and the sensitive Rose, the reserved but ardent Mannering, and the flighty coquette Julia! In the Antiquary f, and Bride of Lam- mermoor^, anxiety is raised to the most painful height by the spectacle of father and daughter ex- posed together to imminent and frightful peril. The heroines in Rob Roy and the Black Dwarf are du- teous and devoted daughters^ the one of an unfor- tunate, the other of an unworthy parent. In the whole story of Kenil worth there is nothing that more strongly indicates a master-hand than the pa- ternal carefulness and apprehensions of the churl Foster ; and among the most striking scenes in A Legend of Montrose, is that in which Sir Duncan * Kenilworth, vol. i. ch. IQ. t Vol. i. ch. 7. t Vol. i. ch. 4. 214 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. Campbell is attracted by an obscure yearning of the heart toward his unknown child, the supposed or- phan of Darnlinvarach*. I am much deceived if the hand of our novelist is not distinctly to be traced in the characters of those imaginary correspondents, to whom the traveller Paul inscribes his excellent Letters. ' It is three ' long weeks,' he says, in the opening of his first communication, ' since I left the old mansion house, ' which, for years before, has not found me absent ' for three days ; and yet no letter has assured its ' quiet inmates and neighbours whether my cu- ' riosity has met its punishment. Methinks I see * the evening circle assembled, and anxiously ex- * pressing their doubts and fears on account of * the adventurous traveller. The major will talk ' of the dangers of outposts and free corps, and ' lament that I could not have marched under the ' escort of his old messmates of the * * * * re- ' giment. The laird will speak scholarly and * wisely of the dangers of highway robbery and * overturns in 'a country where there are neither ' justices of peace nor turnpikes. The minister, * again, will set up his old bugbears of the inquisi- < tion and of the lady who sitteth upon the Seven ' Hills. Peter the politician will have his anxious ' thoughts on the state of the public spirit in France ; * the prevalence of Jacobinical opinions, — the reign * Tales of My Landlord, Third Series, vol. iv. ch. 1 , 2. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVER LEY. 215 ' of mobs, and of domiciliary visits, — the horrors of ' the lantern and of the guillotine. And thou, my ' dear sister, whose life has been one unwearied ' course of affectionate interest in the health and * happiness of a cross old bachelor brother, what * woeful anticipations must thy imagination have ' added to this accumulation of dangers ! Broken ' sleep, bad diet, hard lodging, damp sheets, have, ' in your apprehension, already laid me up a pa- * tient in the cabaret of some miserable French vil- * lage, which neither affords James's Powders, nor * Daffy's Elixir, nor any of those infallible nostrums ' which your charity distributes among our village ' patients, undiscouraged by the obstinacy of those ' who occasionally die, in despite both of the medi- ' cine and physician. It well becomes the object of * so much and such varied solicitude, to remove it * as speedily as the posts of this distracted country ' will permit. I anticipate the joy in every coun- * tenance when my packet arrives ; the pleasure. ' with which each will seize the epistle addressed * to himself, and the delight of old James, when, ' returned from the post-office at * * *, he de- ' livers with an air of triumph the long expected ' dispatches, and then, smoothing his grey hairs * with one hand, and holding with the other the ' handle of the door, lingers in the parlour, till he, ' too, has the reward of his diligence, in learning ' his master's welfare. 216 LETTERS ON THE LET. MI. « Till these news arrive, I cannot flatter myself ' that things will go perfectly right at the old cha- * teau ; or, rather my vanity suggests, that the ab- ' sence of so principal a person among its inmates ' and intimates has been a chilling damp upon the ' harmless pleasures and pursuits of those who have ' remained behind. I shall be somewhat disap- ' pointed, if the Major has displayed alacrity in putting his double-barrel in order for the moors ; ' or if the Laird has shown his usual solicitude for ' a seasonable sprinkling of rain to refresh the tur- ' nip-field. Peter's speculations on politics, and his ' walks to the bowling green, have been darkened, * doubtless, and saddened by the uncertainty of my * fate : and I even suspect the parson has spared his ' flock one Seventhly of his text in his anxiety upon ' my account. For you, my dear Margaret, can I ' doubt the interest you have given me in your af- ' fections from the earliest period of recollection, ' when we pulled gowans together upon the green, ' until the moment when my travelling trunk, * packed by your indefatigable exertions, stood ' ready to be locked, but ere the key could be turned, ' reversing the frolics of the enchanted chest of the ' Merchant Abudah, sprung once more open, as if ' in derision of your labours ? To you, therefore, ' in all justice belong the first fruits of my cor- ' respondence/ — Paul's Letters, Letter L In this cluster of personages the author has LET. VII. AUTHOll OF WAVERLEY. 217 united all that antique simplicity, that cordial feel- ing, that eccentric quaintness of humour, and that well-bred and somewhat aristocratic air, which the novelist so delights to combine in his family pieces. You may trace in the sentences I have extracted some points of strong resemblance to the 'adieus of * Waverley*,'on his departure from the family man- sion where he had passed his youth. The military and stately, and tender farewell of Sir Everard ; his caution against ' rakes, gamblers, and whigs f Aunt Rachel's assiduity in fitting out her nephew for the campaign ; and the counsels of the Rev. Mr. Pembroke, *to eschew the profane company ^ of scoffers and latitudinarians, too much abound- * ing in the army/ and * to resist the pernicious doc- ' trines in church and state,' ' of presbyterians and ' other sectaries,"* are very much in the manner of Paul's ' Kinsfolk ;' and I am confident of having seen ' Old James' in the novelist's service, though I cannot distinctly recollect the occasion. The contrasted characters of WyclifFe and Ri- singham form, in many particulars, an exact parallel to those of Glossin and Hatteraick; indeed the two confederacies in guilt are carried on under circum- stances so precisely similar, and give rise to scenes so nearly resembhng each other, that it is almost impossible to look upon the tales of Rokeby and * Vol. i. ch. 5, 6. SI 8 LETTEIIS ON THE LET. VII. Guy Mannering as the work of different authors. In both instances we have a politic, hypocritical and fearful, but wholly unprincipled villain, employ- ing the services of a ruffian, fierce, debauched, and uncompromising, yet retaining some faint sparks of generous nature ; the one surrounding himself with a vast and complicated web of machinations, the other intent only on immediate gain, security, and vengeance ; the one detesting and fearing his ac- complice's reckless ferocity ; the other impatient of his suborner's timorous cunning, and even disgusted by the utter wickedness of his intrigues. Their con- ferences resemble each other in so many points, that to give a perfect display of the likeness, it would be necessary to transcribe them entirely. Oswald, like Glossin, meets his confederate with a mind harassed by remorseful dreams*; each feels a personal ap- prehension from the savage violence of his agent ; each veils his fear and hatred under terms of en- dearment — ' good gentle friend Y — ' my good friend ' — ' my dear Dirk' — *my friend Hatteraick' — ' my bully-boy J ! ' — and each is irritated and tor- mented by an assumed apathy and unapprehensive- ness in his moody companion. You will find on comparison, that the scenes (I allude especially to * Rokeby, canto i- st. 2, 3. Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 12,13. t Rokeby, canto i- st. 12. t Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 13. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 219 that in the opening of Rokeby, and to the first two interviews between Glossin and the smuggler) agree in their minute and subordinate circumstances as well as in their general tenor and conduct. For example — *You must kindle some fire too,' says Hatteraick, when visited by Glossin in the cave, ' for hold mich der deyvil, Ich bin ganz gefrorne !' — * The flame then began to blaze sprightly, and Hat- * teraick hung his bronzed visage, and expanded his * hard and sinewy hands over it, with an avidity re- * sembling that of famine to which food is exposed.' — ' * And now I have brought you some breakfast,' ' said Glossin, producing some cold meat and a flask ' of spirits. The latter Hatteraick eagerly seized * upon, and applied to his mouth ; and after a ' hearty draught, he exclaimed, with great rapture, ' ' Das schmeckt ! — That is good*.' ' Bertram in the apartment of WyclifFe — " From gloves of mail relieved his hands, And spread them to the kindling brands. And, turning to the genial board, AVithout a health, or pledge, or word Of meet and social reverence said. Deeply he drank, and fiercely fed ; As free from ceremony's sway. As famished wolf that tears his prey." Rokehi/y Canto I. St. 6'. But the most remarkable similarity is in the * Guy Manneriiig, vol. ii. ch. 1 5. 220 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. views and expectations of these two ruffians with regard to a division of spoils. *' When last we reasoned of this deed. Nought, I bethink me, was agreed, Or by what rule, or when, or where. The wealth of Mortham we should share ; Then list, while I the portion name. Our differing laws give each to claim. Thou, vassal sworn to England's throne. Her rules of heritage must own j They deal thee, as to nearest heir. Thy kinsman's lands and livings fair. And these I yield : do thou revere The statutes of the buccaneer. ^ * * * * When falls a mate in battle broil. His comrade heirs his portioned spoil 3 When dies in fight a daring foe. He claims his wealth who struck the blow j And either rule to me assigns Those spoils of Indian seas and mines Hoarded in Mortham's caverns dark j ****** I go to search, where, dark and deep. Those trans-atlantic treasures sleep. Thou must along — for, lacking thee. The heir will scarce find entrance free j And then farewell. I haste to try Each varied pleasure wealth can buy ; When cloyed each wish, these wars afford Fresh work for Bertram's restless sword." Rokebi/ J C'dntol. St. 21. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVEllLEY. 221 ' ' Pshaw ! pshaw !' says Glossin to Hatteraick, ' « don't let us jest ; I am not against making a hand- ' some compliment — but it's your affair as well as ' mine.' * ' What do you talk of my affair ? is it not you * that keep the younker's whole estate from him ? ' Dirk Hatteraick never touched a stiver of his ' rents.' ' ' Hush — hush — I tell you it shall be a joint busi- ness/ < ' Why will ye give me half the kitt?' — ' What, * half the estate? — d ye mean we should set up house * together at Ellangowan, and take the barony, ' ridge about ?' * ' Sturmwetter, no ! but you might give me half ' the value — half the gelt. Live with you ? nein — I * would have a lust-haus of mine own on the Mid- * dleburgh Dyke, and a blumen-garten like a bur- ' go-master's.' ' * Ay, and a wooden lion at the door, and a ' painted centinel in the garden, with a pipe in his ' mouth ! But, hark ye, Hatteraick ; what will all ' the tulips and flower-gardens, and pleasure-houses ' in the Netherlands do for you, if you are hanged ' here in Scotland ?' ' Hatteraick's countenance fell.' Guy Manner ing, vol. ii. ch. 13. I have already * cited the dramatic and vigorous * Letter VI. 222 LETTERS ON THE LET. vil. description of Glossin's agonizing suspense while Hatteraick, by his connivance, escapes from the old tower. WycHfFe is placed in the same situation when his followers, headed by O'Neale, disperse themselves through the woods in pursuit of Ber- tram. '' Scarce heard was Oswald's anxious cry, * Suspicion ! — yes — pursue him — fly — But venture not, in useless strife. On ruffian desperate of his life. Whoever finds him, shoot him dead ! Five hundred nobles for his head.* * * * * * " Leaning against the elmin tree. With drooping head, and slacken'd knee, And clenched teeth, and close-clasped hands. In agony of soul he stands I His downcast eye on earth is bent, His soul to every sound is lent. For in each shout that cleaves the air May ring discovery and despair. * -x- * ♦ * What 'vailed it him, that brightly played The morning sun on Mortham's glade ? All seems in giddy round to ride. Like objects on a stormy tide^ Seen eddying by the moonlight dim^ Imperfectly to sink and swim. What 'vailed it, that the fair domain, Its battled mansion, hill and plain. On which the sun so brightly shone. Envied so long, was now his own r LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAYERLEY. ^23 The lowest dungeon, in that hourj Of Brackenbury's dismal tower. Had been his choice, could such a doom Have open'd Mortham's bloody tomb ! Forced, too, to turn unwilling ear To each surmise of hope or fear. Murmured among the rustics round. Who gathered at thelarura sound. He dare not turn his head away. Even to look up to heaA'en to pray. Or call on hell, in bitter mood. For one sharp death-shot from the wood!" Rokehy, Canto II. St. 26, &c. To close the comparison, the usurper of Ellan- gowan is murdered by his accomplice in a fit of fury, and Oswald falls a victim to the provoked ferocity of Risingham. Poor Blanche of Devan, with her feathers and flowers, and fluttering mantle, her scraps of music, and her fantastic demeanour exposing her to vulgar violence and insult, is not unlike the persecuted maniac Madge Wildfire ; and as the one admonishes Fitz- James by a song, of the ambush laid in his way from Loch Katrine ^, so the other, by a wild but significant chaunt, acquaints George Robertson with the secret approach of his enemies to Muschafs Cairn -f. • Lady of the Lake, canto iv. st. 21, &c. •\ Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. ii. ch. 5. 224 LETTERS ON THE LET. Vll. The operation of love and jealousy on the im- petuous and gloomy temper of Allan M'Aulay * brings to mind the passion of Koderic Dhu for Ellen, and his boiling indignation at a rival's inter- ference. There is a strong general likeness between Bois-Guilbert the Templar, and Marmion; both renowned and experienced soldiers, men of mature age, but with n'lore than the ordinary fires of youth ; impatient of rebuke or opposition ; jealous of mili- tary honour, yet descending, for the accomplish- ment of favourite designs, to actual dishonesty. Even in personal appearance they have some points of similarity f. But if their resemblance were fainter, there is one coincidence which unavoidably brings them together in our minds ; that each is guided on his journey by a mysterious palmer |, who proves in the sequel to be an enemy and rival ; and each is disturbed in his social hour by the lowering pre- sence and raven note of this religious malcontent. '' — Soon Lord Marmion raised his head. And, smiling, to Fitz-Eustace said, ' Is it not strange, that, as ye sung, Seem'd in mine ear a death-peal rung? ***** • Legend of Montrose. t Marmion, canto i. St. 5. Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 2, 4. + Marmion, canto i., &:c. Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 2, 4. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVEULEY. 225 Say^ what may this portend ? Then first the Palmer silence broke, (The live-long day he had not spoke), 'The death of a dear friend.' " Marmion, Canto III. St. 13. < « Forgive me, lady/ replied De Bois-Guilbert, ' « the English monarch did, indeed, bring to Pales- * tine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those ' whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark ' of that blessed land.' * ' Second to none/ said the Pilgrim, who had ' stood near enough to hear, and had listened to « this conversation with marked impatience. All ' turned toward the spot from whence this unex- ' pected asseveration was heard.' — Ivanhoe^ vol. i. ch. 5. We have another melancholy mock-pilgrim in the following romantic reverie of Edward Wa- verley : ' Then arose in long and fair array the splendour < of the bridal feast at Waverley Castle ; the tall « and emaciated form of its real lord, as he stood in ' his pilgrim's weeds, an unnoticed spectator of * the festivities of his supposed heir and intended * bride ; the electrical shock occasioned by the dis- ' covery ; the springing of the vassals to arms ; the ' astonishment of the bridegroom ; the terror and * confusion of the bride.** — Waverley, \o\, i. ch. 4. The characters of Roland Graeme and Henry 2 2^ LETTKHS ON THE LET. Ml. Seyton, though not exactly similar in themselves to those of Fitz-Eustace and Henry Blount, remind us of the two English squires by the maimer in which the novelist has thrown them together, par- ticularly in their attendance on Queen Mary at Crookstone, when they look upon the distant battle, and repine at the duty which condemns them to in- glorious safety. And as Blount first, and then Fitz- Eustace quits the side of Clare to plunge into the fight, so Henry Seyton flies to join his father's ban- ner, and is followed after an interval by Graeme *. It is, I think, worthy of remark, that in the con- struction of their stories both the novelist and the poet occasionally use, with a boldness somewhat uncommon, the licence of suddenly overleaping a large portion of time in the midst of the narrative. This break is in every case rendered more remark- able by the leisurely and consecutive manner in which the author tells the preceding and following parts of the tale. In Marmion, the transactions of two or three weeks, from the Baron's arrival at Tantallon till he gives orders for departing, are summed up in a single stanza f . In the Lord of the Isles nearly seven years pass between the fifth and sixth cantos. In the Bridal of Triermain a period of almost five centuries elapses between the enchantment and the deliverance of Gyneth ; but * Marmion, canto vi. st. 25, 27. Abbot, vol. iii. ch. 10. t Canto V. St. 34. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 227 as the former part of the story is introduced episodi- cally, I do not much insist on this example. In Harold the Dauntless several years are disposed of in two or three stanzas at the end of the first canto. In Guy Mannering, the interval between Frank Kennedy's murder and Colonel Mannering's second arrival at Kippletringan (related in the following chapter *) is seventeen years. Henry Morton's exile from Scotland cannot occupy less than ten -f-. In the Heart of Mid-Lothian, five years, from the parting of Jeanie and her sister on the beach at Roseneath, to the arrival of Lady Staunton's letter, are dispatched in a single chapter J; and shortly afterwards a period of nearly ten years is passed over with the same rapidity §. Transitions of the same kind occur in Waverley ||, Rob Royf, The Bride of Lammermoor **, A Legend of Mont- rose ff, The Monastery 11, and The Abbot §§. I do not mention the practice with a view of point- ing it out to censure, though it may, perhaps, in strictness, be considered inartificial. A favourite exhibition of skill with both writers is to contrive a surprise for the reader by an un- foreseen explanation of mysteries which have per- * Guy Mannering, vol. i. ch. 11. -|- Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. iv. ch. 7. ^ Vol. iv. ch. 10. § Vol. iv. ch. 12, 13. II Vol. iii. ch. 10, 14. % Vol. iii. ch. 10. ** Vol. iii. ch. 1. if Last vol. ch. 7. ++ Vol. iii. ch. 10, 11. $« Vol. ii. ch. 8, 9. <^2 228 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. plexed his sagacity, or by a sudden disclosure of facts which never entered into his contemplation. Few story-tellers are so successful in baffling con- jecture and eluding anticipation. The secret of Fitz -James's true rank is kept with admirable address till the proper moment * ; Montrose, and Coeur-de-Lion f , and (if he may be mentioned in such great company) our good friend Robin Hood if, discover themselves less unexpectedly, perhaps, but with very striking effect. What reader is so far- , sighted as not to have been startled at Roderick Dhu's announcement of himself to Fitz-James, and his resuscitation after the combat, when Allan-bane finds him in prison at Stirling §? Little less sur- prising are the appearance of Rob Roy in the person of Mr. Campbell, at Glasgow Tolbooth; and that of Morris, as at prisoner at the feet of Helen McGregor [j. That the Rector of Wil- lingham's son, lying on a sick bed in Lincolnshire, should prove to be the unhappy George Robert- son^, is an event sufficiently unlooked for, but too repugnant to our notions of probability. Wayland Smith's detection of his old master in the adept Alasco is well conceived and powerfully treated * * ; * Lady of the Lake. f Ivanhoe. \ Ivanhoe. § Lady of the Lake, canto v. st. 9. vi. 12. II Rob Roy, vol. ii. ch. 10. iii. 4. % Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. iii. ch. S. ** KeniUvorth, vol. ii. oh. 5. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVEllI^KY. 229 and there is not, I think, a more agreeable circum- stance in the Abbot than the re-appearance of Father Boniface as Blinkhoolie, the gardener*. The real Deloraine bursting into the lists at Brank- some, just as another champion, under his form, has vanquished Richard Musgrave, is a highly effective incident -f- ; but I fear the same praise cannot justly be bestowed on De Wilton's midnight meeting with Marmion in the Pictish camp J. It must indeed be owned, that both our authors now and ^hen reckon too largely upon the bonhomie of their readers, and that their marvels are sometimes so unlikely in themselves, and sometimes brought about by means so frivolous, extravagant, or labo- riously planned, as to excite a determined spirit of incredulity. The adventure last alluded to, the story of Search No. I.§; and the revival of Athel- stane the Unready H, are prominent instances. The preservation of our Saxon friend by Bois Guilbert's sword turning in his hand, so that he strikes with the flat instead of the edge^; and Mortham''s escape in Rokeby * *, by Risingham's shooting the horse, and imagining that he has dispatched the rider, may perhaps be kept in countenance by- the * Vol. iii. ch. 2. t Lay of the Last Minstrel, canto v, st. 24. X Marmion, canto iv. st. 18, &c. (i Antiquary, vol. ii. ch. 9. iii. ch. 15. ^ II Ivanhoe, vol. iii. ch. 12. % Id. ib. =» =♦= Canto vi. St. I] . 230 LETTERS ON THE LET. VII. passage in Fielding's Covent-garden Tragedy, where a hero, who had to all appearance been run through the body, unexpectedly walks in, and being interrogated, " Say by what lucky chance we see you here V' replies, " In a few words I'll satisfy your doubt ; I through the coat was, not the body, run." Another inquiry follows — '• But say Stormandra, did I not behold Thee hanging to the curtains of thy bed ? Stor. No, my dear love, it was my gown, not me." Last Scene. The catastrophe of The Black Dwarf*, the recog- nition of Mortham's lost son in the Irish orphan Redmond -f-, and the conversion of Harold's page into a female J, are additional specimens of unsuc- cessful contrivance, by which, at a great expense of probability, little pleasure is created, and no astonishment, unless it be at the unaccountable failure of invention and judgment in writers so highly gifted with both. The novelist and the poet conspicuously resemble each other in their familiarity with national super- * Ch. 18, 19. f Rokeby, canto vi. st. 14, 15. t Harold the Dauntless, canto vi. st, 11, &c. LET. VII. AUTHOll OF WAVEia.EY. 231 stitions, and their love of dwelling on the various modes in which human affairs are supposed to be affected by supernatural influence. Their fancy revels and luxuriates amidst omens, magic spells, predictions, mysterious warnings, presages and pro- phetic dreams, and prognostications by second sight ; they have at their command '' A thousand fantasies Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire. And airy tongues *j" of goblins and fairies, witches and sorcerers, ghosts and daemons, and sprites from water, air, and earth. Of the larger poems published by the author of Marmion there is not one ; of the novels produced by the author of Waverley there are but two or three, in which some appeal, more or less forcible, is not directed to our involuntary sympathy with popular superstition. Among the minor works of the poet, his Glenfinlas and Eve of St. Johnf afford abundant proof of his terrifying powers; though the first of these ballads, it is just to ob- serve, possesses a much higher claim to praise in its beautiful imagery, and- mournful sweetness of composition. I do not presume to insinuate that either the novelist or the poet is a serious believer in any of * Comus. t See Border Minstrelsy, vol. iii. part iii. 232 LETTERS ON THE LET. vil. those mysterious phenomena, which they have ce- lebrated in their writings ; but it is evident that a strong and cherished predilection for the ' wild and wonderful/ and a continued study of all subjects falling under the denomination of the Marvellous, have produced upon their ardent minds an effect at least analogous to that described in the following excellent passage of the Life of Dryden. *■ ColHns has thus celebrated Fairfax : '' Prevailing poet, whose undoubtiiig mind Believed the magic wonders which he sung." * Nor can there be a doubt, that, as every work of ' imagination is tinged with the author^s passions ' and prejudices, it must be deep and energetic in ' proportion to the character of these impressions. ' Those superstitious sciences and pursuits, which ' would by mystic rites, doctrines, and inferences, * connect us with the invisible world of spirits, or ' guide our daring researches to a knowledge of ' future events, are indeed usually found to cow, ' crush, and utterly stupify, understandings of a * lower rank ; but if the mind of a man of acute ' powers, and of warm fancy, becomes slightly im- ' bued with the visionary feelings excited by such * studies, their obscure and undefined influence is * ever found to aid the sublimity of his ideas, and * to give that sombre and serious effect, which lie LET. VII. AUTHOR OF AVAVERLEY. 233 ' can never produce, who does not himself feel the ' awe which it is his object to excite. The influence ' of such a mystic creed is often felt where the ' cause is concealed; for the habits thus acquired ' are not confined to their own sphere of belief, but ' gradually extend themselves over every adjacent * province : and perhaps we may not go too far in ' believing, that he who has felt their impression, ' though only in one branch of faith, becomes fitted ' to describe, with an air of reality and interest, ^ not only kindred subjects, but superstitions alto- ' gether opposite to his own.' — Life of Drj/den, sec. viii. p. 506, ed. 1808. I must not pass without particular notice one purely fanciful subject, on which both writers are unusually fond of exercising their imaginative powers, — I mean Dreams. Let me beg you to compare the following specimens, and observe how strikingly they correspond in thought and manner : '' The hall was cleared — the Stranger's bed Was there of mountain heather spread. Where oft an hundred guests had lain, And dreamed their forest sports again. But vainly did the heath-flower shed Its moorland fragrangs round his head 3 Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest The fever of his troubled breast : In broken dreams the image rose Of varied perils, pains, and woes ; 234! LETTEJiS ON THE LET. Vli. His steed now flounders in the brake. Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; Now leader of a broken host. His standard falls, his honour 's lost. Then, — from my couch may heavenly might Chase that worst phantom of the night ! — Again returned the scenes of youth. Of confident undoubting truth 3 Again his soul he interchanged With friends whose hearts were long estranged. They come, in dim procession led. The cold, the faithless, and the dead 3 As warm each hand, each brow as gay. As if they parted yesterday. At length, with Ellen in a grove He seemed to walk, and speak of love j She listened with a blush and sigh. His suit was warm, his hopes were high. He sought her yielded hand to clasp. And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : The phantom's sex was changed and gone. Upon its head a helmet shone j Slowly enlarged to giant size. With darkened cheek and threatening eyes. The grisly visage, stern and hoar. To Ellen still a likeness bore. — He woke." Lady of the Lake, Canto I. St. 33, 34. ' It is seldom that sleep, after such violent agi- * tation, is either sound or refreshing. Lovel's was LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 235 ' disturbed by a thousand baseless and confused ' visions. He was a bird — he was a fish-«-or he ' flew like the one and swam like the other, — ' qualities which would have been very essential to ' his safety a few hours before. Then Miss War- ' dour was a syren, or a bird of paradise; her ' father a triton, or sea-gull ; and Oldbuck alter- ' nately a porpoise and a cormorant. These agree- ' able imaginations were varied by all the usual ' vagaries of a feverish dream ; the air refused to ' bear the visionary, the water seemed to burn him ' — the rocks felt like down pillows as he was ' dashed against them — whatever he undertook ' failed in some strange and unexpected manner — ' and whatever attracted his attention underwent, * as he attempted to investigate it, some wild and ' wonderful metamorphosis, while his mind con- ' tinned all the while in some degree conscious of ' the delusion, from which it in vain struffffled to * free itself by awaking — feverish symptoms all * with which those who are haunted by the night < hag, whom the learned call Ephialtes, are but too ' well acquainted. At length these crude phantas- ' mata arranged themselves into something more ' regular.' — Antiquary^ vol. i. eh. 10. ' Morton retired to a few hours' rest ; but his * imagination, disturbed by the events of the day, ' did not permit him to enjoy sound repose. There ^36 LETTERS ON THE LET. vil. ' was a blended vision of horror before him, in ' which his new friend seemed to be a principal * actor. The fair form of Edith Bellenden also ' mingled in his dream, weeping and with dishe- ' veiled hair, and appearing to call on him for * comfort and assistance which he had it not in his ' power to render. He awoke from these unre- ' freshing slumbers with a feverish impulse, and ' a heart which foreboded disaster. There was ' already a tinge of dazzling lustre on the verge of ' the distant hills, and the dawn was abroad in all ' the freshness of a summer morning.' — Tales of My Landlord J First Series, vol. ii. ch. 6. It sometimes happens, as most persons have ob- served, that a sound reaching the external sense during sleep, is caught up by the fancy, and, by some strange power of adaptation, interwoven with the tissue of a dream. This circumstance has not escaped the novelist and poet. '' Again he roused him — on the lake Look'd forthj where now the twilight flake Of pale cold dawn began to wake. On Coolin's cliffs the mist lay furl'd. The morning breeze the lake had curl'd. The short dark waves, heaved to the land. With ceaseless plash kiss'd cliff or sand j It was a slumb'rous sound — he turn'd To tales at which his youth had burn'd. I LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 237 Of pilgrim's path by demon cross'd. Of sprightly elf or yelling ghost. Of the wild witch's baneful cot. And mermaid's alabaster grot. Who bathes her limbs in sunless well Deep in Strathaird's enchanted cell. Thither in fancy rapt he flies. And on his sight the vaults arise -, That hut's dark walls he sees no more. His foot is on the marble floor. And o'er his head the dazzling spars Gleam like a firmament of stars ! — Hark ! hears he not the sea-nymph speak Her anger in that thrilling shriek ? — No ! all too late, with Allan's dream Mingled the captive's warning scream. As from the ground he strives to start, A rufl&an's dagger finds his heart ! Upwards he casts his dizzy eyes, ... Murmurs his master's name, . . . and dies !" Lord of the Isles, Canto HI. St. 28. ' I remember a strange agony, under which I ' conceived myself and Diana in the power of Mac- ' Gregorys wife, and about to be precipitated from ' a rock into the lake ; the signal was to be the dis- ' charge of a cannon, fired by Sir Frederick Vernon, ' who, in the dress of a cardinal, officiated at the ' ceremony. Nothing could be more lively than ' the impression which I received of this imaginary ' scene. I could paint, even at this moment, the * nmte and courageous submission expressed in ^8 LETTERS ON THE LET. vii. ' Diana's features — the wild and distorted faces of ' the executioners, who crowded around us with ' ' mopping and mowing ;' grimaces ever changing, ' and each more hideous than that which preceded. * 1 saw the rigid and inflexible fanaticism painted ' in the face of the father. I saw him lift the fatal ' match — the deadly signal exploded — it was re- * peated again and again and again, in rival thun- * ders, by the echoes of the surrounding cliffs, and ' I awoke from fancied horror to real apprehension. ' The sounds in my dream were not ideal. They * reverberated on my waking ears, but it was two ' or three minutes ere I could collect myself so as ' distinctly to understand that they proceeded from ' a violent knocking at the gate.' — Rob Itoy^ vol. iii. eh. 12. The ominous dream of the Countess of Leicester is thus terminated : * Just as he spoke, the horns again poured on ' her ear the melancholy, yet wild strain of the ' mort, or death note, and she awoke. The Countess * awoke to hear a real bugle-note, or rather the com- * bined breath of many bugles, sounding not the ' mort, but the jolly reveillee, to remind the inmates ' of the castle of Kenil worth, that the pleasures of * the day were to commence with a magnificent ' stag-hunting in the neighbouring chase.' — KeniU zvorth, vol. iii. ch. 8. I.ET. VII. AUTHOU OF WAVERLEY. 239 Lovei's dream, the beginning of which I just now quoted, ends in a similar manner : ' As the vision shut his volume, a strain of ' delightful music seemed to fill the apartment — ' Lovel started, and became completely awake. ' The music, how^ever, was still in his ears, nor ' ceased till he could distinctly follow the measure ' of an old Scottish tune. — With its visionary cha- ' racter it had lost much of its charms — it was now ' nothing more than an air on the harpsichord, * tolerably well performed.' — Antiquary ^ vol. i. ch. 10. Should you feel desirous of pursuing this sub- ject further, I would point out as deserving your attention the dreams of Glossin, in Guy Manner- ing*; of the hero in Harold the Dauntless -f-; and of Effie Deans, in the Heart of Mid- Lothian J. The incident of a person supposed to be dead emerging from concealment and being mistaken for a spectre, occurs twice in the poems and twice in the novels : De Wilton § and Mortham || appal their enemies by their supposed resuscitation; Henry Morton alarms his mistress in the same manner ^; and Athelstane inhospitably disturbs the guests at his own funeral feast **. * Vol. ii. ch. 12. t Canto vi. st. 9 to 11. X Vol. ii. ch. 8. § Marmion, canto iv. st. 21. II Rokeby, canto ii. st. 21, '2. •I Old Mortality, last vol. ch. 9. ** Ivanhoe, vol. iii. ch. 12. 240 LETTERS ON THE LET. VII. The death of Burley* has some points of strong resemblance to that of Risingham -f-. Each falls ingloriously, oppressed by the united force of ignoble assailants, in a sudden and almost unfore- seen conflict; a catastrophe not arising in either case out of the early and leading events of the story, but apparently contrived on purpose for the removal of personages who are lagging on the stage and impede the closing of the scene. The novelist seems embarrassed with his covenanter as the poet with his buccaneer ; they cannot be quietly dismissed; but the authors have made them so strong and invincible, that it becomes difficult to find expedients for their destruction, and each is quelled at last by a complication of means : by his own madness, by the fault of his horse, by the combined attack of his plebeian enemies. Both Risingham and Burley sacrifice their lives in ac- complishing schemes of vengeance ; both die, as they inflict death, with unshrinking sternness ; both carry with them out of existence individuals whose absence is equally necessary with their own to the winding up of the fable ; John Balfour assassinating Lord Evandale, and Bertram fatally cutting short the iniquities of Oswald in their moment of con- summation. * Old Mortality, last chapter, f Rokeby, canto vi. si. 32, &c. LET. VII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 241 The death of Rashleigh Osbaldistone * is a catastrophe not in all respects parallel to those just mentioned, but resembling them strongly in the obdurate fierceness of the sufferer, and the somewhat inartificial contrivance of a new train of incidents at the latter end of the tale, expressly for his removal. • Rob Roy, vol. iii. last chapter. 242 LETTERS ON THE LET. vili. LETTER VIII. Day-light and champian discovers not more : this is open. Twelfth Night, Act II. So. 4. Thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every man thinks. Henri/ IV. Part II. Act II. Sc. 2. From the incidents themselves, we should now proceed to the manner in which they are embellished by description ; but a great part of the observations belonging to this subject has been anticipated in the preceding pages. I have still, however, to point out a few remarkable instances of similarity not hitherto noticed. The battle scenes of the two writers are no less admirable for variety than for magnificence of imagery ; but there are two or three prominent circumstances which occur with peculiar frequency. In most instances the conflict is described as seen by persons looking down upon it from a command- ing point, and not mixed in the tumult themselves. The situation of Morton and his companions at Loudon-hill ^, and of Queen Mary, Seyton, and Graeme, at Crookstone -f , are precisely the same * Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. iii. ch. 4. f Abbot, vol. iii. ch. 10. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVEllLEY. 24-3 with that of the Lady and two squires at Flodden * : the first shock of battle at Bannockburn is witnessed by Edith from the GilHes-hillf ; Rebecca watches the attack on Torquilstone from a window of the castle I ; and Allan-bane looks down upon the battle of BeaP-an-duine from a height overhanging the Trosachs§. The natural and sublime com- parison of hostile ranks engaging to an agitated sea, is introduced in the four passages last referred to, in Risingham''s narrative of the battle of Marston- Moor 11, in the description of the British line charging at Waterloo^, and in the account of a similar move- ment by the French, in Paul's Letters**. An approaching body of troops is likened to a dark cloud f f. ' God and the Cause T — * God and the ' King!' are the cries at Marston-Moor ]: J. At Langside, ' God and the Queen !' resounded from the one party; ' God and the King!* thundered from the other §§. That fine incident in the battle of Flodden, * Marmion, Canto VI. St. 25. t Lord of the Isles, Canto VI. St. 20. X Ivanhoe, vol. ii. ch. 15. § Lady of the Lake, Canto VL St. 15. II Rokeby, Canto I. St. 13. <[ Field of Waterloo, St. 13. ** Letter VIIL 3d Ed. p. 162. ff As in Ivanhoe, vol. iii. ch. 14. Monastery, vol. iii. ch. 11. Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 15. \\ Rokeby, Canto L St. 12. §§ Abbot, vol. iii. ch. 10. 244 LETTERS ON THE LET. Vlll. " Fast as shaft could fly. Blood-shot his eyes, his nostrils spread. The loose rein dangling from his head. Housing and saddle bloody red. Lord Marmion's steed rush'd by,'* Marmion, Canto VL St. 27. is introduced again in the engagement at Loudon- hill: ' At length horses, whose caparisons showed that ' they belonged to the Life-Guards, began to fly ' masterless out of the confusion. Dismounted ' soldiers next appeared, forsaking the conflict,' &c. — Tales of My Landlord^ First Series, vol. iii. ch. 4. It is thus a third time touched upon : ** But ere I cleared that bloody press. Our northern horse ran masterless." Rokeby,C?iHtol. St. 19. And again, in the Lord of the Isles : ." The Earl hath won the victory. Lo ! where yon steeds run masterless. His banner towers above the press." CantoVLSt. 18. In the fight by Loch Katrine the armies suddenly shift their ground : " As the dark caverns of the deep. Suck the wild whirlpool in. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 245 So did the deep and darksome pass Devour the battle's mingled massj None linger now upon the plain. Save those who ne'er shall fight again." Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 18. And thus in the battle of Inverlochy: ' Allan's threats had forced his own clan from ' the spot, and all around had pressed onwards ' towards the lake, carrying before them noise, ' terror, and confusion, and leaving behind only ' the dead and the dying.' — Legend of Montrose, last vol. ch. 11. The difficult subject of a tournament in which several knights engage at once, is admirably treated by the novelist in Ivanhoe, and by his rival in the Bridal of Triermain ; and the leading thought in both descriptions is the sudden and tragic change from a scene of pomp, gaiety, and youthful pride, to one of misery, confusion, and death : ' The tide of battle seemed to flow now toward ' the southern, now toward the northern extremity * of the lists, as the one or the other party prevailed. ' Meantime the clang of the blows, and the shouts * of the combatants, mixed fearfully with the sound ' of the trumpets, and drowned the groans of those ' who fell, and lay rolling defenceless beneath the ' feet of the horses. The splendid armour of the ' combatants was now defaced with dust and blood, 24i6 LETTERS ON THE LET. viir. * and gave way at every stroke of the sword and * battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the ' crests, drifted upon the breeze like snow-flakes. ' All that was beautiful and graceful in the martial * array had disappeared, and what was now visible * was only calculated to awake terror or compas- ' sion.' — Ivanhoe, Vol. I. ch. 12. '^ The lists with painted plumes were strown, Upon the wind at random thrown. — •X- -X- * -x- ■«• The spears drew bloody the swords struck flame. And, horse and man, to ground there came Knights, who shall rise no more \ Gone was the pride the w^ar that graced, Gay shields were cleft, and crests defaced. And steel coats riven, and helms unbraced. And pennons stream'd with gore. * -x * * * And now the trumpet's clamours seem Like the shrill sea-bird's wailing scream. Heard o'er the whirlpool's gulphing stream. The sinking seaman's knell !" Bridal of Triermain, Canto IF. St. 24. In the following highly poetical passages, de- scribing the awful spectacle of a conflagration, there are points of resemblance, if possible, more striking than any I have yet noticed : " Matilda saw — for frequent broke From the dim casements gusts of smoke. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 247 Yon tower, which late so clear defined On the fair hemisphere reclined, .jt * * * * Now, swathed within the sweeping cloud. Seem giant-spectre in his shroud 3 Till, from each loop-hole flashing light, A spout of fire shines ruddy bright. And, gathering to united glare. Streams high into the midnight air, A dismal beacon, far and wide That wakened Greta's slumbering side." Rokeby, Canto V. St. 34. * The fire now began to rise high, and thick ' clouds of smoke rolled past the window, at which ' Bertram and Dinmont were stationed. Some- ' times, as the wind pleased, the dim shroud of * vapour hid every thing from their sight; some- « times a red glare illuminated both land and sea, ' and shone full on the stern and fierce figures, ' who, wild with ferocious activity, were engaged * in loading the boats. The fire was at length ' triumphant, and spouted in jets of flame out at ' each window of the burning building.' — Guy Mannering, Vol. III. ch. 9. ' One turret was now in bright flames, which ' flashed out furiously from window and shot-hole.* — Ivanhoe, Vol. III. ch. 1. * Ravenswood — was about to ascend the hill ' towards the castle, the broad and full conflagra- ' tion of which now flung forth a high column of * red light, that flickered far* to seaward upon the 248 LETTERS ON THE let. viii. * dashing waves of the ocean/ — Bride of Lammer- moor. Vol. II. ch. 11. The * giant-spectre* shall also make his appear- ance, though in a shroud of a different fashion. < — the tower itself — tall and narrow, and built ' of a greyish stone, stood glimmering in the moon- ' light, like the sheeted spectre of some huge giant.' — Bride of Lammermoor, Vol. I. ch. 6*. ' A huge red glaring bonfire soon ait^se, — send- ' ing up a tall column of smoke and flame, — and ' illuminating the ferocious faces and wild gestures * of the rioters who surrounded the place, as well ' as the pale and anxious groupes of those who, * from windows in the vicinage, watched the pro- * gress of this alarming scene.' — Heart of Mid- luOthian, Vol. I. ch. 5. *^ And in the red and dusky light His comrade's face each warrior saw. Nor marvell'd it was pale with awe." Lord of the Isles, Canto V. St. 14. '' The alarm is caught — the draw-bridge falls. The warriors hurry from the walls. But, by the conflagration's light. Upon the lawn renew the fight. * -x- * * * And where is Bertram ? — Soaring high. The general flame ascends the sky -, In gathered group the soldiers gaze Upon the broad and roaring blaze, When LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 249 Forth from the central mass of smoke The giant form of Bertram broke ! * * -x- ^ .X. Through forty foes his path he made. And safely gained the forest glade." Rohehjy Canto V. St. 35, 6. * Bois-Guilbert — pushed over the draw-bridge, * dispersing the archers who would have inter- ' cepted hun. He was followed by his Saracens, * and some five or six men at arms, who had * mounted their horses. The towering flames * had now surmounted every obstruction, and rose * to the evening skies one huge and burning beacon, ' seen far and wide through the adjacent countr}^ * Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing ' roof and rafter ; and the combatants were driven * from the court-yard. The vanquished, of whom ' very few remained, scattered, and escaped into *the neighbouring wood. The victors, assem- ' bling in large bands, gazed with wonder, not * unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which ' their own ranks and arms glanced dusky red. ' The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was for 'a long time visible on the lofty stand she had ' chosen, tossing her arms abroad with wild exulta- * tion, as if she reigned empress of the conflagration * which she had raised. At length, with a terrific ' crash, the whole turret gave way, and she perished * in the flames which had consumed her tyrant 250 LETTERS ON THE let. Vill. ' An awful pause of horror silenced each murmur ' of the armed spectators, who, for the space of ' several minutes, stirred not a finger, save to sign ' the cross. The voice of Locks! ey was then heard, * ' Shout, yeomen ! the den of tyrants is no more !' ' — Ivanhoe, Vol. III. ch. 1. '* But oft INIatilda looked behind. As up the vale of Tees they wind, Where far the mansion of her sires Beaconed the dale with midnight fires. In gloomy arch above them spread, The clouded heaven lowered bloody red 3 Beneath, in sombre light, the flood Appeared to roll in waves of blood . Then, one by one, was heard to fall The tower, the donjon-keep, the hall, Each rushing down with thunder sound, A space the conflagration drowned j Till gathering strength, again it rose. Announced its triumph in its close. Shook wide its light the landscape o'er. Then sunk — and Rokeby was no more !" Rokeby, Canto V. St. 37. * While he thus spoke, the carriage making a * sudden turn, showed them, through the left win- ' dow, the village at some distance, but still widely 'beaconed by the fire, which, having reached a * storehouse where spirits were deposited, now rose ' high into the air, a wavering column of brilliant flight."*— G?/y Mannering\ Vol- III. ch. 9. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 251 ' As he spoke, Ravenswood attained the ridge of ' the hill from which Wolf's Crag was visible; the ' flames had entirely sunk down, and to his great ' surprise there was only a dusky reddening upon * the clouds immediately over the castle, which 'seemed the reflection of the embers of the sunken 'fire/ — Bride of La7nmermoo7'^ Vol. II. ch. 12. The kindling of a beacon is thus related in prose and in verse : ' He lighted the beacon accordingly, which ' threw up to the sky a long wavering train of ' light, startling the sea-fowl from their nests, and * reflected far beneath by the reddening billows of ' the sea. The brother warders of Caxon being * equally diligent, caught and repeated his signal. ' The lights glanced on headlands and capes and ' inland hills, and the whole district was alarmed ' by the signal of invasion.' — Antiquary ^ Vol. III. ch. 16. , '' The ready page, with hurried hand. Awaked the need-fire's slumbering brand. And ruddy blushed the heaven : For a sheet of flame, from the turret high. Waved like a blood-flag on the sky. All flaring and uneven -, Aud soon a score of fires, I ween. From height, and hill, and cliff, were seen. Each with warlike tidings fraught j Each from each the signal caught 3 252 LETTERS ON THE LET. vill. Each after each they glanced to sight, As stars arise upon the night.*' Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto III. St. 29. Let me now refresh your mind's eye with part of a morning picture : ' The daylight had dawned upon the glades of ' the oak forest. The green boughs glittered with * all their pearls of dew. The hind led her fawn * from the covert of high fern to the more open « walks of the green-wood.' — Ivanhoe^ Vol. III. eh. 2. " The summer dawn's reflected hue 'Yo })urple changed Loch-Katrine blue \ Mildly and soft the western breeze Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees. * * • * • The doe awoke, and to the lawn Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn. The grey mist left the mountain side." — &c. Lady of the Lake, Canto III. St. 2. There are several circumstances in LovePs noc- turnal adventure at St. Ruth's *, which may remind you of the justly celebrated scene at Melrose in the Lay of the Last Minstrel f. The moonlight, the humid freshness of the flowers, the old and young man sitting down together amidst the ruins^ and the figure of St. Michael trampling on the dragon, are common to both descriptions. In both there * Antiquary, Vol. II. ch. 6. t Canto II. St. 7 to 22. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 253 is a treasure to be sought beneath a tomb-stone, which being raised, in one narrative we are told that a supernatural light broke forth, in the other it is expressly mentioned that no such light ap- peared : but in both instances the adventurers are disturbed by mysterious noises in the cloister- galleries. In speaking of the moon as seen in a tempestuous sky, the novelist says that 'she waded amid the ' stormy and dusky clouds, which the wind from ' time to time drove across her surface.' — Antiquary, vol. ii. ch. 10. Thus too the poet, *' The wading moon, with storm-presaging gleam. Now gave and now withheld her doubtful beam.'' The Poacher. ( Miscellaneous Poems, Edinburgh, 1820.) Page 361. In a clear 'night, ' There 's a silver show;er on the alders dank.' — Monastery, vol. i. ch. 5. And ^* the cold light's uncertain shower. Streams on the ruined central tower." Lay of the last Minstrel, Canto II. St. 1. The following image in the description of a tor- rent — •' Each wave was crested with tawny foam. Like the mane of a chesnut steed — " Lay of the Last ^Minstrel, Canto I. St. 28. is thus in part repeated : 254 LETTERS ON THE let. viii. ' She could see the crest of the torrent flung ' loose down the rock like the mane of a wild ' horse.' — Heart of Mid Lothian^ vol. iv. ch. 13. The singular and romantic picture of a salmon- hunt, given in the second volume of Guy Manner- ing (chap. 5), occurs again in a reduced form, but clearly to be recognized, in a small poem (already alluded to) which is published with the Bridal of Triermain and Harold, beginning ' On Ettrick * Forest's mountains dun.' The prose passage is too long to be extracted ; the verses are these : " 'Tis blythe along the midnight tide. With stalwart arm the boat to guide -, On high the dazzling blaze to rear. And heedful plunge the barbed spear ^ Rockj wood, and scaur, emerging bright, Fling on the stream their ruddy light, And from the bank our band appears Like Genii, armed with fiery spears." Miscellaneous Poems ^ Edinburgh, 1820, page 154. The following passages closely resemble each other : ' ' Hark ! the English are setting their watch.' * The roll of the drum and shrill accompaniment « of the fifes swelled up the hill — died away— re- * sumed its thunder^-and was at length hushed. * The trumpets and kettle-drums of the cavalry < were next heard to perform the beautiful and wild LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF AVAVERLEY. 255 ' point of war appropriated as a signal for that ' piece of nocturnal duty, and then finally sunk upon ' the wind with a shrill and mournful cadence.' — Waverley, vol. ii. ch. 23. ' The music, which played a variety of English ' and Scottish airs, harmonised with the distant ' roll of the drums, and the notes of that beautiful * point of war which is performed by our bugles ' at the setting of the watch.' — FaiiVs Letters, Letter XII. Apropos of bugles — *' faint its beauties And few as leaves that tremble, sear and dry. When wild November hath his bugle wound." Lord of the Isles, Canto I. Introduction. ** As, to the autumn breeze's bugle-sound. Various and vague the dry leaves dance their round." Bride of Lammermoor, vol. ii. ch. i. Motto (given as ' Anonymous'), The groupes in the two following pictures are nearly alike, and are sketched from similar points of view: ^' — With the latest beams of light, The band arrived on Lanrick height. Where mustered in the vale below, Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. ^56 LETTERS ON THE LET. viii. A various scene the clansmen made^ Some sate, some stood, some slowly strayed j But most, with mantles folded round. Were couched to rest upon the ground. Scarce to be known by curious eye From the deep heather where they lie." Ladi/ of the Lake, Canto III. St. 30, 1. ' We arrived at an eminence covered with brush- * wood, which gave us a commanding prospect down ' the valley, and a full view of the post which the * militia occupied. The appearance of the pi- * quetted horses, feeding in this little vale ; the ' forms of the soldiers as they sate, stood, or * walked, in various groupes in the vicinity of the river — * formed a beautiful foreground,' &c. — Rob Roy, vol. iii. ch. 5. Of the next two passages, describing the inmates of a castle in active preparation for a siege, it is dif- ficult to say which is the most animated : * The arrangements for defence were not made * without the degree of fracas incidental to such ' occasions. Women shrieked, cattle bellowed, * dogs howled, men ran to and fro, cursing and * swearing without intermission, the lumbering of * the old guns backwards and forwards shook the * battlements, the court resounded with the hasty * gallop of messengers who went and returned upon ' errands of importance, and the din of warlike * preparation was mingled with the sound of female LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 257 * lamentation. Such a Babel of discord might ' have awakened the slumbers of the very dead, ' and therefore was not long ere it dispelled the ab- ' stracted reveries of Edith Bellenden.' — Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. iii. ch. 6. *' Fair Margaret from the turret head, Heard, far below, the coursers' tread. While loud the harness rung, As to their seats with clamour dread. The ready horsemen sprung ; # » » * * The livelong night in Branksome rang The ceaseless sound of steel j The castle bell, with backward clang, Sent forth the laruin peal 3 Was frequent heard the heavy jar. Where massy stone and iron bar Were piled on echoing keep and tower. To whelm the foe with deadly showery Was frequent heard the changing guard. And watch-word from the sleepless ward. While, wearied by the endless din. Blood-hound and ban-dog'yelled within." Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto III. St. 28, 30. " For pathless marsh and mountain cell The peasant left his lowly shed. The frightened flocks and herds were pent Beneath the peel's rude battlement 5 And maids and matrons dropped the tear, While ready warriors seized the spear." Ibid. Canto IV. St. 3. 25S LETTERS ON THE LET. VIII. The comparison- " Thick round the lists their lances stood, Like blasted pines in Ettricke wood — " Ibid. Canto V. St. U. is thus amplified by Captain Dalgetty : ' The whilk Swedish feathers, although they look ' gay to the eye, resembling the shrubs or lesser * trees of a forest, as the puissant pikes, arranged in ' battalia behind them, correspond to the tali pines * thereof, yet, nevertheless, are not altogether so * soft to encounter as the plumage of a goose.' — Tales of My Landlord^ Third Series, vol. iii. ch. 2. The knights at the tournament of Ashby, * Mounted bravely and armed richly,"* sat ^on « their war-saddles like so many pillars of iron, and ' awaiting the signal of encounter with the same * ardour as their generous steeds.' Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 12. In King Jameses camp on the Borough-Moor, *' Men-at-arms were here, Heavily sheathed in mail and plate, Like iron towers for strength and weight. On Flemish steeds of bone and height, With battle-axe and spear." Marmion, Canto V. St. 2. The Isles-men — <"' Raised a wild and wondering cry. As with his guide rode Marmion by. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. ^59 Loud were their clamouring tongues, as when The clanging sea- fowl leave the fen, Andj with their cries discordant mix'd. Grumbled and yell'd the pipes betwixt." Ibid. Canto V. St. 5. The Captain of Knockdunder, who had proba- bly never read these animated lines, described the babble of Celtic tongues in nearly the same man- ner, when asked whether the call of Reuben Butler to his ministry was a * real harmonious call' on the part of the parishioners : ^ I pelieve,' said Duncan, * it was as harmonious * as could pe expected when the tae half o' the bo- * dies were clavering Sassenach, and t'other skir- ' ling Gaelic, like sea-maws and clack-geese before * a storm/ — Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. iv. ch. 7. A Highland concert of imprecations : '' Then rose the cry of females, shrill As goss-hawk's whistle on the hill. Denouncing misery and ill, Mingled with childhood's babbling trill Of curses stammered slow." Lady of the Lake, Canto III. St. 10. * — A shrilly sound of female exclamation, mixed ' with the screams of children, the hooping of boys, ' and the clapping of hands with which the High- ' land dames enforce their notes whether of rafire or * lamentation/ — Rob Roy, vol, iii. ch. 3. s 2 260 LETTERS ON THE let. vili. The feelings of a person about to be hanged, not, I believe, an e very-day subject of poetical specula- tion, are thus forcibly described : Waverley ^ accompanied Fergus with downcast * eyes, tingling ears, and the sensation of a cri- ' minal, who, while he moves slowly through the ' crowds that have assembled to behold his exe- ' cution, receives no clear sensation either from the ' noise which fills his ears, or the tumult on which ' he casts his wandering look/ — Waverley^ vol. ii. ch. 20. *^ What thoughts are his, while all in vain His eye for aid explores the plain } What thoughts J while, with a dizzy ear. He hears the death-prayer muttered near ? And must he die such death accurst ?"— ■ Lord of the Isles, Canto V. St. 26. " Just then was sung his parting hymn ; And Denzil turned his eye-balls dim. And scarcely conscious what he sees. Follows the horsemen down the Tees, And scarcely conscious what he hears. The trumpets tingle in his ears. O'er the long bridge they 're sweeping now. The van is hid by greenwood bough j But ere the rearward had passed o'er, Guy Denzil heard and saw no more ! One stroke upon the castle bell. To Oswald rung his dying knell." Rokeby, Canto VI. St. 25. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 261 The parting of Hobbie Elliot from his grand- mother is not unlike the leave-taking of young Duncraggan : ' ' Urge me not, mother — not now !' He was ' rushing out, when, looking back, he observed his ' grandmother make a mute attitude of affliction . * He returned hastily, threw himself into her arms, ' and said, ' Yes, mother, I can say. His will be * done, since it will comfort you."* ' ' May He go forth — may He go forth with you, ' my dear bairn,' ' — Black Dwarf, ch. 7. " In haste the stripling to his side His father's dirk and broad- sword tiedj But when he saw his mother's eye Watch him in speechless agony. Back to her opened arms he flew. Pressed on her lips a fond adieu — * Alas !' she sobbed, — ' and yet be gone. And speed thee forth like Duncan's son !' " Lady of the Lake, Canto III. St. 18. The description of Sir Halbert Glendinning, in the Abbot, corresponds remarkably in some of its circumstances with the well-known portraiture of Marmion : * There were deep traces of care on those noble ' features, over which each emotion used formerly ' to pass, hke hght clouds across a summer sky. ' That sky was now, not perhaps clouded, but still ' and grave hke that of a sober autumn evenhig. J^62 LETTERS ON THE LET. vui. ' The forehead was higher and more bare than in * early youth, and the locks which still clustered ' thick and dark on the warrior's head, were worn * away at the temples, not by age, but by the con- ' stant pressure of the steel cap or helmet. His ' beard, according to the fashion of the times, grew ' short and thick, and was turned into mustachios ' on the upper lip, and peaked at the extremity. ' The cheek, weather-beaten and embrowned, had ' lost the glow of youth, but shewed the vigorous ' complexion of active and confirmed manhood. ' Halbert Glendinning was, in a word, a knight to ' ride at a king's right hand, to bear his banner ' in war, and to be his counsellor in time of peace ; ' for his looks expressed the considerate firmness ' which can resolve wisely and dare boldly.' — Abbot, vol. i. ch. 3. " His eye-brow dark, and eye of fire. Shewed spirit proud, and prompt to ire j Yet lines of thought upon his cheek Did deep design and counsel speak ; His forehead, by his casque worn bare. His thick moustache, and curly hair. Coal-black, and giizzled here and there. But more through toil than age ; His square-turned joints, and strength of limb. Shewed him no carpet-knight so trim. But in close fight a champion grim. In camps a leader sage." Marmion, Canto I. St. 5. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 263 The turn of thought in the next two passages is precisely the same : ' When they came upon the ground, there sat ' upon the roots of the old thorn, a figure, as * vigorous in his decay as the moss-grown but * strong and contorted boughs which served him ' for a canopy. It was old Ochiltree.'— ^w^i^wary, vol. ii. ch. 5. " The stranger cast a lingering look. Where easily his eye might reach The harper on the islet beach. Reclined against a blighted tree. As wasted, grey, and worn as he." Lady of the hake, Canto II. St. 4. One more parallel, and I will dismiss the article of descriptions : ^ ' True, my reverend sir,' said Sir Halbert ; * and ' therefore I entreat my brother and you to pledge ' me in a cup of this orthodox vintage.' ' The thin old porter looked with a wishful ' glance towards the Abbot. ' Do veniam,' said ' the Superior; and the old man seized, with a * trembling hand, a beverage to which he had been ' long unaccustomed, drained the cup with pro- ' tracted dehght, as if dwelling on the flavour and ' perfume, and set it down with a melancholy smile ' and shake of the head, as if bidding adieu in 264 LETTERS ON THE LET. viii. ' future to such delicious potations. The brothers * smiled.' — Abbot y vol. i. ch. 15. This picture, though unequal in merit, bears a strong, and, I think, unstudied resemblance to that highly elegant and spirited one in the Lay of the Last Minstrel, " While thus he poured the lengthened tale. The Minstrel's voice began to fail : Full slyly smiled the observant page, And gave the withered hand of age A goblet crowned with mighty wine. The blood of Velez' scorched vine. He raised the silver cup on high. And, while the big drop filled his eye Prayed God to bless the Duchess long. And all who cheered a son of song. The attending maidens smiled to see How long, how deep, how zealously. The precious juice the Minstrel quaff'd j And he, emboldened by the draught. Looked gaily back to them and laughed. The cordial nectar of the bowl Swelled his old veins, and cheered his soul 3 A lighter, livelier prelude ran. Ere thus his tale again began : — ' And said I that my limbs were old ?' — &c." Lay of the Last Minstfelj End of Canto II. There still remain a few similarities of thought which appear to me worthy your notice, but are so LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 265 miscellaneous in their nature, that I will not at- tempt to classify, but cite them indiscriminately as they occur : '' I claimed of him my only child — As he disowned the theft, he smiled ! That very calm and callous look, That fiendish sneer his visage took. As when he said, in scornful mood, * There is a gallant in the wood !' " Rokeby, Canto IV. St. 24. * And then they stretch out their faces, and ' make mouths, and girn at me, and whichever way ' I look, I see a face laughing like Meg Mur- ' dockson, when she tauld me I had seen the last ' of my wean. God preserve us, Jeanie, that car- * line has a fearful face/ — Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. ii. ch. 8. This fiendish smile seems to be strongly fixed in the imagination of both writers as the physiogno- mical expression of confirmed and cold-blooded vil- lainy. You no doubt remember the sarcastic sneer of Varney, so often mentioned in Kenilworth, which writhed his cheek even in death*: and the same characteristic habit is given to Guy Denzil in the lines of Rokeby just quoted, as well as in other parts of that poem "I*. * Kenilworth, vol. iii. last chapter, t As, Canto III. St. 19— VI. 12. 266 LETTERS ON THE LET. vili. Both writers usually represent their heroes as brave, yet not wholly insensible to fear ; and there is a great similarity in their modes of recording the temporary weakness of a mind habitually courageous, when surprised at extraordinary dis- advantage. Such^is the situation of Brown, con- cealed by Meg Merrilies on the approach of the smugglers, and without means of defence or re- treat : ' Brown was a soldier, and a brave one, but he ' was also a man, and at this moment his fears ^ mastered his courage so completely, that the cold * drops burst out from every pore/ At ' the idea « of being dragged out of his miserable concealment ' by wretches whose trade was that of midnight * murder, without weapons or the slightest means of ' defence, the bitterness of his emotions almost ' choked him.' — Guy Mannering, vol. ii. ch. 6. '' Still spoke the Monk, w^hen the bell tolled one! I tell you that a braver man Than William of DelorainC;, good at need. Against a foe ne'er spurred a steed 3 Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread. And his hair did bristle upon his head." La7/ of the Last Minstrel , Canto II. St. 16. *i I 've fought, Lord-Lion, many a day. In single fight, and mix'd affray. And ever, I myself may say. Have borne me as a knight ; LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 267 But when this unexpected foe Seemed starting from the gulph below, — I care not though the truth I show, — I trembled with 'affright." Marmion, Canto IV. St. 20. When the guard which was leading Francis Osbaldistone prisoner fell into the Highland am- buscade : * ' I clambered,* says the narrator, * until out of ' breath ; for a continued spattering fire, in which ' every shot was multiplied by a thousand echoes, * the hissing of the kindled fuses of the grenades, ' and the successive explosion of those missiles, ' mingled with the huzzas of the soldiers, and the ' yells and cries of their Highland antagonists, ' formed a contrast which added — I do not shame * to own it — wings to my desire to reach a place of ' safety.' ' — Rob Roy, vol. iii. ch. 3. *' What thought was Roland's first when fell. In that deep wilderness, the knell Upon his startled ear ? To slander warrior were I loth. Yet must I hold my minstrel troth, — It was a thought of fear." Bridal of Triermain, Canto III. St. 6. Many more instances might be selected ; among these I would point out in particular the descrip- tion of Fitz- James following Roderick Dhu, aftor 268 LETTERS ON THE LET. VIII. having witnessed the sudden apparition of the con- cealed clansmen ; the detail of Morton's sensations when about to be put to death by the covenanters ; and of Lovel's, on the eve of his duel with Hector*. The preternatural acuteness of the senses in mo- ments of strong mental excitement, is a circum- stance often touched upon in these works. " Far townward sounds a distant tread. And Oswald, starting from his bed. Hath caught it, though no human ear, Unsharpened by revenge and fear. Could e'er distinguish horse's clank. Until it reach'd the castle bank." RoTtehyy Canto I. St. 5. In a note upon this passage, the poet says that he has ' had occasion to remark, in real life, the ' effect of keen and fervent anxiety, in giving acute- * ness to the organs of sense.* ' It is the gallopping of horse,' said Morton to himself, his sense of hearing^ rendered acute by the dreadful situation in which he stood; ' God * grant they may come as my deliverers !' — Tales of My Landlord^ 1st Series, Vol. IV. ch. iv. ' ' Hark ! I hear the trampling of horse ; he ' comes ! he comes !' she exclaimed, jumping up in ' ecstacy.' ' * I cannot think it is he,' said Varney ; * or * Lady of the Lalie, Canto V. St. 1 1 ; Tales of my Landlord* 1st S«ries, Vol IV. ch. 4 ; Antiquary, Vol. II. ch. 5. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 269 « that you can hear the tread of his horse through ' the closely-mantled casements.' * ' Stop me not, Varney ; my ears are keener * than thine— it is he I' ' — Kenil'iscorth, Vol. I. ch. 6. We find the same thought in the ballad of the Maid of Neidpath *. " Before the watch-dog pricked his ear. She heard her lover's riding." The following thought, derived, I believe, from Miss Baillie's Count Basil, is found in Rokeby, and in the Abbot : " She comes not j he will wait the hour When her lamp lightens in the tower j 'Tis something yet, if as she past. Her shade is o'er the lattice cast." Rokeby, Canto I. St. 29. * A twinkling light still streamed from the case- ' ment of Catherine's Seyton's apartment, obscured ' at times for a moment, as the shadow of the fair ' inhabitant passed betwixt the taper and the vin- ' dow. At length the light was removed or ex- ' tinguished, and that object of speculation was also ' withdrawn from the eyes of the meditative lover.' —Abbot, Vol. III. ch. 3. Bois-Guilbert, listening unseen to the hymn of Rebecca (Ivanhoe, Vol. III. ch. 9), forms a picture * Published with The Vision of Don Roderick j Edinburgh, 1811. J370 LETTERS ON THE let. VIII. very similar, except in costume, to Sir Roderick overhearing the sacred chaunt of Ellen Douglas in the Lady of the Lake. (Canto III. St. 28, &c.) Of the next two passages, the second is little more than a prose version of the first : " The air vi^as sad ; but sadder still It fell on Marmion's ear. And plain' d as if disgrace and ill. And shameful death, were near. He drew his mantle past his face. Between it and the band. And rested with his head a space, Reclining on his hand. His thoughts I scan not -, but I ween. That, could their import have been seen. The meanest groom in all the hall. That e'er tied courser to a stall. Would scarce have wish'd to be their prey, For Lutterward and Fontenaye." Marmion, Canto III. St. VZ. * Leicester resumed his place, envied and ad- * mired, beside the person of his Sovereign. But, * could the bosom of him whom they universally ' envied, have been laid open before the inhabitants * of the crowded hall, with all its dark thoughts — ' which of them, from the most ambitious noble ' in the courtly circle, down to the most wretched * menial, who lived by shifting of trenchers, would * have desired to change characters with the fa- LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 971 * vourite of Elizabeth, and the Lord of Kenil- « worth !' — Kenilworth^ Vol. III. ch. 13. Of that malevolent ignorance which, not content with being insensible, is also hostile to the majesty or beauty of antique monuments, both writers ex- press the same virtuous abomination ; and in nearly the same strain : " Dun-Edin's Cross, a pillar'd stone. Rose on a turret octagon ; (But now is razed that monument, Whence royal edict rang, And voice of Scotland's law was sent In glorious trumpet-clang. O ! be his tomb as lead to lead, Upon its dull destroyer's head ! A minstrel's malison is said.)" Marmion, Canto V. St. 25 ; and see the Note on this Stanza. * A sulky churlish boor has destroyed the ancient * statue, or rather bas-relief, popularly called Robin ' of Redesdale. It seems Robin's fame attracted ' more visitants than was consistent with the growth ' of the heather, upon a moor worth a shilling an ' acre. Reverend as you write yourself, be revenge- ' ful for once, and pray with me, that he may be * visited with such a fit of the stone, as if he had all * the fragments of poor Robin in that region of his ' viscera where the disease holds its seat. Tell this ' not in Gath, lest the Scots rejoice that they have 272 LETTERS ON THE LET. V III. ' at length found a parallel instance among their ^ neighbours, to that barbarous deed which de- * molished Arthur's oven.' — Ivanhoej Dedicatory Epistle. Robin's effigy is also alluded to in Rokeby, Canto I. St. 20, and fully described in a note re- ferring to the passage. The tomb of Marmion at Lichfield was — " Levell'd, when fanatic Brook The fair cathedral storm'd and took j — But, thanks to Heaven, and good St. Chad, A guerdon meet the spoiler had !" Marmion, Canto VI. St. 30. being, as the royalists observed, killed by a shot from St. Chad's cathedral, on St. Chad's day, and receiving his death-w^ound in the very eye with which he had hoped to see the ruin of all the ca- thedrals in England *. The novelist's statement, in the dedicatory epistle just quoted, of his reasons for constructing a tale on other than Scottish subjects, may recall to your mind a somewhat similar explanation prefixed by the author of Marmion to his Vision of Don Ro- derick. The two introductions are, I think, very similar in their general conception, although they do not strikingly resemble each other in any pass- age short enough to be extracted. * See Marmion, Canto VI. note 1 8. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 273 Both the novelist and the poet, when speaking in their own persons, give nearly the same account of their motives for writing. " Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp ! Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway, And little reck I of the censure sharp. May idly cavil at an idle lay. Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way. Through secret woes the world has never known, When on the weary night dawned wearier day, And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. That I o'erlive such woes. Enchantress ! is thine own." Lady of the Lake, Conclusion. ' The truth is, I have studied and lived for the * purpose of gratifying my own curiosity, and * passing away my own time ; and though the ' result has been, that, in one shape or other, I * have been frequently before the public, perhaps * more frequently than prudence warranted, yet I ' cannot claim from them the favour due to those * who have dedicated their ease and leisure to the * improvement and entertainment of others."* — Mo- nastery^ Introduction. The practice too much indulged in by both writers, of hurrying the narrative when approach- ing its conclusion, is thus figuratively excused by each : — ' Ere entering upon a subject of proverbial de- ' lay, I must remind my reiuler of the progress of a T 274 LETTERS ON THE LET. VIII. * stone, rolled down hill by an idle truant boy (a ' pastime at which I was myself expert in my more ' juvenile years) : it moveth at first slowly, avoiding ' by inflection every obstacle of the least import- ' ance ; but when it has attained its full impulse, * and draws near to the conclusion of its career, it ' smokes and thunders down, taking a rood at ' every spring, clearing hedge and ditch like a ' Yorkshire huntsman, and becoming most fu- ' riously rapid in its course, when it is nearest to * being consigned to rest for ever. Even such is * the course of a narrative, like that which you are/ * perusing.* — Waver ley, Vol. III. ch. 22. " 'Th mine to tell an onward tale. Hurrying, as best I can, along, The hearers and the hasty song , Like traveller when approaching home. Who sees the shades of evening come. And must not now his course delay. Or choose the fair, but winding way ; Nay, scarcely may his pace suspend. Where o'er his head the wildings bend, To bless the breeze that cools his brow. Or snatch a blossom from the bough." Rokeby, Canto VI. St. ^6. Some critics, I believe, on reading The Vision of Don Roderick, have expressed dissatisfaction at the author's summary manner of dismissing both scenery and actors at the close of that poem, as LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 275 Master Peter would^have put away King Marsilius and his castle, had the Fates and Don Quixote permitted. " Then, though the Vault of Destiny be gone. King, Prelate, all the Phantasms of my brain. Melted away like mist-wreaths in the sun, Yet grant for faith, for valour, and for Spain, One note of pride and fire, a Patriot's parting strain.'* Vision of Don Roderick, Stanza 63. ' Mimi ergo est jam exitus, non fabula?; in quo ' cum clausula non invenitur, fugit aliquis e mani- ' bus, deinde scabella concrepant, aulaeum toUitur. — Cicero, Orat. pro M. Cselio. A less dignified, but an older acquaintance, is used in the same manner by the novelist. < Reader ! The Tales of my Landlord are now ' finally closed, and it was my purpose to have ad- ' dressed thee in the vein of Jedediah Cleishbotham ; « but, like Horam, the Son of Asmar, and all other ' imaginary story-tellers, Jedediah has melted into « thin air.' ' Mr. Cleishbotham bore the same resemblance ' to Ariel, as he at whose voice he rose doth to the * sage Prospero ; and yet, so fond are we of the « fictions of our own fancy, that I part with him, and * all his imaginary localities, with idle reluctance.' — Tales of My Landlord, 3d Series. Conclusion. And he openly reminds Captain Clutterbuck of his power to annihilate him also : T 2 276 LETTERS ON THE LET. vill. ' I scorn to use either arguments or threats ; butyou ' cannot but be aware, that, as you owe your literary ' existence to me on the one hand, so, on the other, * your very all is at my disposal. I can at pleasure ' cut off your annuity, strike your name from the ' half-pay establishment, nay, actually put you to * death, without being answerable to any one.' — Monastery^ Introductory Epistle. The transition and contrast, in these two de- scriptions, evidently mark them, in my opinion, for the work of the same artist : '' The lark sent down her revelry ; The blackbird and the speckled thrush Good -morrow gave from brake and bush ; In answer cooed the cushat dove Her notes of peace, and rest, and love. No thought of peace, no thought of rest, Assuaged the storm in Roderick's breast. With sheathed hroad-sword in his hand, Aburpt he paced the islet strand. And eyed the rising sun, and laid His hand on his impatient blade," Lady of the Lake, Canto HI. St. 2, 3. ' The fountains threw their jets into the air, as if * they sought that their waters should be silvered * by the moon-beams, ere they fell down again ' upon their basins in showers of sparkling silver."* — ' The bird of summer night had built many a ' nest in the bowers of the adjacent garden, and the LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 277 ' tenants now indemnified themselves for silence * during the day, by a full chorus of their own un- ' rivalled warblings, now joyous, now pathetic, now ' united, now responsive to each other, as if to ex- ' press their delight in the placid and delicious scene * to which they poured their melody. Musing * on matters far different from the fall of waters, ' the gleam of moonlight, or the song of the night- * ingale, the stately Leicester walked slowly from * one end of the terrace to the other, his cloak ' wrapped around him, and his sword under his * arm, without seeing any thing resembling the hu- ' man form.' — Kenilwmih, Vol. III. ch. 13. The following lines form part of a noble passage on the English army protecting Lisbon against the French. " For full in view the promised conquest stood. And Lisbon's matrons, from their walls, might sum The myriads that had half the world subdued. And hear the distant thunders of the drum, That bids the bands of France to storm and havoc come. Four moons have heard these thunders idly roU'd, Have seen these wistful myriads eye their prey As famish'd wolves survey a guarded fold — But in the middle path a lion lay !" Vision of Don Roderick, Conclusion. St. 4, 5. • This scriptural image appears to be a favourite. * * We are not yet at Dumbarton, aiwi there is a 278 LETTERS ON THE LET. vill. « lion in the path.' — < Mean you Murray, Morton, * and the other rebels at Glasgow?' — ' Tush! ' they dare not look on the royal banner.' ' — Abbot, Vol. III. ch. 10. Dalgetty * gave Allan to understand, that if he ' called himself a tiger, he was likely, at present, to « find a lion in his path.' — Tales of My Landlord, 3d Series, Vol. IV. ch. 11, ' There is a lion in the path — The curate of ' Brotherstane and ten soldiers hae beset the pass.' — Tales of My Landlord, 1st Series, Vol. II. ch. 5. Swift expressed ' peevishness on the delay which * occurred in making some honourable provision for ' his future life. But there was a lion in the path — ' The real obstacle was the prejudice entertained ' by Queen Anne,' &c. — L\fe of Swift, sect. iii. p. 163. * The gourd of the prophet,' says the author of Paul's Letters, ' which came up in a night and * perished in a night, has proved the type of autho- * rity so absolute, and of fame so diffused."* Letter XII. ' The Prophet's gourd did not wither more * suddenly.' — Kemlworth, Vol. III. ch. 11. The minds of both writers appear to have been early and deeply imbued with the eloquence of the Sacred Volume, and a fondness for scriptural al- lusion is one of their most evident peculiarities. The novelist has given abundant proof of this pro- pensity in the highly embellished dialogue of his LET. VII I. AUTHOR OF WAVElltEV. 5^79 religious enthusiasts ; but even when he speaks in his own person, his composition, like that of the poet, is marked by a frequent, and occasionally, perhaps, a too ready recurrence to the imagery and language of the inspired writers. * ' * What becomes of those victims,* asks Miss * Vernon, ' who are condemned to a convent by the ' will of others — if they are born to enjoy life, and * feel its blessings?' — ' They are like imprisoned ' singing birds, condemned to wear out their lives ' in confinement, which they try to beguile by the ' exercise of accomplishments, which would have ' adorned society, had they been left at large."* ' ' I shall be,' returned Miss Vernon — ' that is,' ' said she, correcting herself — ' I would be rather ' like the wild hawk, who, barred the free exercise ' of his soar through heaven, will dash himself ' to pieces against the bars of his cage.' ' — Roh Roy, vol. i. ch. 5. Thus, in the Lady of the Lake, "■ The captive thrush may brook the cage. The prisoned eagle dies for rage." Canto VI. St. 22. The imagery and turn of thought in these two sentences are strikingly similar : , '( Prince, beware ! From the chafed tiger rend the prey. 280 LETTEllS ON THE LET. MIL Rush on the lion when at bay. Bar the fell dragon's blighted way, But shun that lovely snare ! " Bridal ofTriermain, Canto I. St. 19. '^ Arouse the tiger of Hyrcanian deserts. Strive with the half-starved lion for his prey ; Lesser the risk, than rouse the slumbering fire Of wild Fanaticism. — Jnoni/movs." Ivanhoe, Vol. III. ch. .5. Motto. The following mode of introducing words sup- posed to proceed from a supernatural personage, is used by both writers— ' ^' So ! com'st thou ere the spell is spoke ? I own thy presence, Zernebock.' ' Daughter of dust,' the Deep Voice said," &c. Harold the Dauntless, Canto II. St. \7, 18. " The Deep Voice said, * O wild of will,'" &c. Ibid. Canto V. St. 8. '' Why sit'st thou by that ruin'd hall. Thou aged carle, so stern and grey ? * -^t -x- * ■* * Know'st thou not meV the Deep Voice cried." Antiquary, Vol. I. ch. 10. Christie of the Clint-hill never rode a foray without duly saying his pater-noster, as WiUiam of Deloraine used to repeat an Ave Mary on similar occasions *. * Monastery, vol. iii. ch. 7 j Lay of the Last Minstrel, canto ii. st. 6. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 281 It may be worthy of notice, that in Harold the Dauntless *, there is a wise and good Canon Eu- stace, as in The Monastery, and a Prior of Jorvaux who is robbed f 5 as in Ivanhoe. Colonel Mannering's eyes, in moments of indig- nation, ' flashed a dark light.' ' Dark lightning ' flashed from Roderick's eye,' when Fitz- James proposed his submitting to the royal mercy %, There is in the novels and poems, a peculiar coinage of noms-de-guerre apparently invented by the same mind or approved by the same ear ; as, for instance, Dickon Draw-the-sword, Arthur Fire- the-braes§, Tony Fire-the- Faggot, Lawrence Lock- the-door II, Diccon Bend-the-bowf, and Michael Wing-the-Wind'^*. * The Flemish women,' observes the traveller Paul, ' are not, I think, so handsome as my fair « countrywomen, or my walks and visits were un- ' fortunate in the specimens they presented of fe- « male beauty. But then, you have the old dress, * with the screen, or mantle, hanging over the • Canto i. st. 21. f Harold the Dauntless, canto i. st. 16; Ivanhoe, vol. iii. ch. 3. X Guy Mannering, vol. i. ch. 13; Lady of the Lake, canto v. St. 14. § Lay of the Last Minstrel, canto vi. st. 7, 8. II Kenilworth, vol. i. ch. 2. iii. ch. 4. ^ Ivanhoe, vol. iii. ch. 3. ♦•Abbot, vol. ii. ch. 3. 28lS LETTERS ON THE LET. viii. ' head, and falling down upon each shoulder, which ' was formerly peculiar to Scotland. The colour ' of this mantle is indeed different ; in Scotland it ' was usually tartan ; and in Flanders, it is uni- ' formly black.' — PauVs Letters, Letter I. The same similarity of costume is more than once noticed in the novels. ' Her hands trembled — as she adjusted the scarlet * tartan screen or muffler made of plaid, which the ' Scottish women wore, much in the fashion of the ' black silk veils, still a part of female dress in the ' ^Netherlands/ — Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. ii. ch. 2. ' In one of the female forms which tripped ' along the street, muffled in a veil of striped silk, ' like the women of Brussels at this day, his eye ' had discerned something which closely resembled ' the exquisite shape and spirited bearing of Cathc- ' rine Seyton.' — Abbot, vol. ii. ch. 2. A thought in the following lines from the Lady of the Lake is repeated with some slight variation in a far more beautiful passage — ^' For me, whose memory scarce conveys An image of more splendid days. This little flower, that loves the lea. May well my simple emblem be j It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose, Tliat in the king's own garden grows 3 LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 283 And when I place it in my hair, Allan, a bard is bound to swear He ne'er saw coronet so fair." Lady of the Lake, Canto II. St. 9. ' What signifies,' said she, * that I have rank ' and honour in reality, if I am to live an obscure ' prisoner, without either society or observance, and ' suffering in my character, as one of dubious or ' disgraced reputation ? I care not for all those ' strings of pearl, which you fret me by warping ' into my tresses, Janet. I tell you, that at Lidcote '• Hall, if I put but a fresh rose-bud among my ' hair, my good father would call me to him, that ' he might see it more closely, and the kind old ' curate would smile, and Master Mumblazen ' would say something about roses gules ; and ' now I sit here, decked out like an image with ' gold and gems, and no one to see my finery but ' you, Janet. There was the poor Tressilian too ' — but it avails not speaking of him.' — Kenil- worth, vol. ii. ch. 10. The two lines — '' O for a blast of that dread horn. On Fontarabian echoes borne — " Marmion, Canto VI. St. 3S, are copied almost word for word in the verses of S84 LETTERS ON THE LET . v 1 1 1 . Francis Osbaldistone, so unmercifully criticised by his father : '' O for the voice of that wild horn. On Fontarabian echoes borne — " Rob Roy, vol. i. ch/2. A refined speculator might perhaps conceive that so glaring a repetition could not be the effect of in- advertence, but that the novelist, induced by some transient whim or caprice, had intentionally appro- priated the verses of his great contemporary. I cannot, however, imagine any motive for such a proceeding, more especially as it must appear somewhat unhandsome to take possession of an- other man's lines, for the mere purpose of exhibit- ing them in a ridiculous light. Nor does it seem to me at all unlikely that the author of Marmion, supposing him to be also the author of Rob Roy, should have unconsciously repeated himself in this instance, for we find him more than once apologising in his avowed works, for having, in the haste of com- position, snatched up expressions, and even whole lines of other writers*. Among the various noble families whose achieve- ments have furnished themes to the novelist and * See Marmion, note 2 to canto v. Same work, conclusion of the notes. Lady of the Lake, conclusion of the notes. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 285 }X)et, there is none, I think, so distinguished by both, as the house of Grahame. The chief glories of that renowned race are briefly summed up in notes on the Vision of Don Roderick, and Lady of the Lake *, of which last poem you will recollect that a Graeme is one of the principal personages. Montrose's exploits are made the ground-work of a tale by the author of Waverley. And if ever that author has treated a subject con amore, it is the character and actions of the gallant Claver- house and glorious Dundee. Without suppressing or unduly palliating the circumstances which blacken his reputation, the novelist, like the poet, always sets them in the fairest light that candour will admit, and both turn eagerly to the rich display of his brighter and nobler qualities, and to the splendour of his closing scene-]-. As we read of him in the spirit- stirring romance of Old Mortality, his courage, energetic spirit, and commanding talent, his soldierly courtesy of demeanour, his studied self-possession. • Vision, &c. Conclusion, note 7; Lady of the Lake, canto ii. note 2. f See the last-mentioned notes; Introduction to the Battle of Loudon- hill, Border Minstrelsy, vol. ii. ; Introduction, and last note to the Battle of Bothwell-bridge, ibid.; Tales of My Landlord, 1st series, vol. ii. ch. 12; note on the Memoirs of Captain Creichton, Swift's works, in 19 vols. Edinburgh, 1814, vol. x. p. 166. Intro- duction to the Translation of Pitcairn's Epitaph, Dryden's works, in 18 vols.; London, 1808, vol. xi. p. 1 13. 286 LETTERS ON THE LET. viii. once or twice interrupted by a flash of strong na- tural feeling, his zealous, though arbitrary gene- rosity, and his chivalrous devotedness to his king and his profession, form a picture which it is im- possible to look upon, or, having looked upon, to remember, without a thrill of enthusiasm. The Minstrel sings of his fall with a spirit worthy the heroic subject: '' Low as that tide has ebbed with me. It still reflects to memory's eye The hour my brave, my only boy Fell by the side of great Dundee. Why, when the volleying musket played Against the bloody Highland blade. Why was I not beside him laid ? Enough— he died the death of fame ; Enough — he died with conquering Graeme." Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto IV. St. 2. But it is a strain stilK more impassioned and inspiring that joins the well-earned fame of the descendant with the ancient glory of the sires : " Nor be his praise o'erpast, who strove to hide Beneath the warrior's vest affection's wound. Whose wish Heaven for his country's weal denied — > Danger and fate he sought, but glory found. LET. Mil. AU'raiOR OF WAVERLEY. 287 From clime to clime, where'er war's trumpets sound. The wanderer went ^ yet, Caledonia ! still Thine was his thought in march and tented ground ; He dreamed mid Alpine cliflfs of Athole's hill. And heard in Ebro's roar his Lyndoch's lovely rill. O hero of a race renowned of old. Whose war-cry oft has waked the battle-swell. Since first distinguish'd in the onset bold. Wild sounding when the Roman rampart fell ! By AVallace' side it rung the Southron's knell, Alderne, Kilsythe, and Tibber owned its fame, Tummell's rude pass can of its terrors tell ; But ne'er from prouder field arose the name. Than when wild Ronda learned the conquering shout of Gr^me!" Vision of Don Roderick^ Conclusion. St. 16, 17. The story of Angus's gigantic sword, with which he cut asunder the thigh-bone of Kilspindie, and which Morton gave Lindesay when he challenged Bothwell to single combat, is told in a note on Marmion*, as well as in the Abbot -(-; and also in the Introduction to the Border Minstrelsy, where the historical authority is referred to. The old Highlander's contempt of a snow pillow, as an effeminate luxury, is reported by the poet from tradition J, and is alluded to in A Legend of Mont- * Canto vi. note 10. t Vol. ii. ch. 6. X I^ady of the Lake, canto ii. note 16". ^88 LETTERS ON THE let. mii. rose *. Colonel Palmer's story of Galium Beg + is closely copied from a passage in the Letters from Scotland, which is extracted, witli many others from the same work, in the notes annexed to the Lady of the Lake J. These letters are also com- mended in the preface to Waverley§. The de- scriptions of Highland hunting, by Pitscottie and Taylor the water- poet, are cited together, both in Waverley ||, and in a note on Marmion ^. In the same passage of Waverley an incident is adopted from Mr. Gunn's essay on the Caledonian Harp, a work mentioned as curious in a note on the Lady of the Lake **. The forest learning displayed in the Bride of Lammermoor ff, about raven-bones, and the breaking of the deer, and ' hurts with horn ' of hart,' appears to be collected from sources also indicated in a note to the same poem JJ. Simmie and his brother, of whom a description is given from the Bannatyne MSS. in a note on Mar- mion§§, are again spoken of in the Monastery ||||. John Lillie, and his Euphues, to which we are indebted for the fantastic humours of Sir Piercie * Tales of My Landlord, 3d series, vol. iv. ch. 9. t Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 9. \ See notes 1 and 17 on canto ii. § Third edition. II Vol. ii. ch. I. t Canto ii. note 1. ** Canto 1. note 10. tt Vol. i. ch. 8. tt Canto iv. note 4. §$ Canto i. note 18. II II Vol. ii. ch. 10. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 289 Shafton *y were long ago introduced to our ac- quaintance in the Life of Dry den f. The idea of a spirit guarding treasures which a sorcerer is to wrest from him by spells, is poetically amplified by the author of Marmion, who says he derived it from the journal of a foreign tour by one of his friends J. The same fiction is put into the mouth of Herman Dousterswivel, in the Antiquary §. Two ballads in the Border Minstrelsy ||, called ' The Battle of Loudon-Hill and The Battle of Bothwell Bridge,' with their accompanying hi- storical notices, exhibit a large part of the outline so splendidly filled up in Old MortaHty. Beside the more general narrative, they contain the popular prejudices and superstitions respecting Claverhouse, which the novelist has recorded ; many of the inci- dents related by him of the skirmish at Drumclog; the death of Cornet Grahame, and his uncle's fatal remembrance of it on the day of Bothwell Bridge ; and the story of Marion Weir, from which that of Bessie Maclure is evidently copied, though with a master's hand. Take for example the following circumstance :— ' The said Marion Weir, sitting upon her hus- ' band's grave, told me, that before that, she could * Monastery, vol. ii. ch. 2. f Sect. i. page 7. I Introductory Epistle to canto vi. § Antiquary, vol. ii. ch. 6. j) Vol. ii. 390 LETTERS ON THE LET. VIII. ' see no blood but she was in danger to faint ; and * yet she was helped to be a witness to all this, * without either fainting or confusion, except when ' the shots were let off her eyes dazzled/- — Note on The Battle of Bothivell Bridge, Border Minstrelsy, vol. ii *. — * ' That murdered your two sons ? ' ' ' Ay, sir/ replies the poor blind woman to * Henry Morton, ' though may be ye'll gi'e their * deaths another name. — The tane fell wi' sword in *hand, fighting for a broken national covenant; * the tother — O, they took him and shot him dead * on the green before his mother's face ! — My auld ' e'en dazzled when the shots were looten off, and, ' to my thought, they waxed weaker and weaker * ever since that weary day — and sorrow, and heart- * break, and tears, might help on the disorder. * But, alas ! betraying Lord Evandale's young ' blood to his enemies' sword wad ne'er hae brought ' my Ninian and Johnie alive again." — Old Mar- tality, last vol. ch. 13. It is remarkable, that in his introduction to the ballad of Loudon-Hill, the editor observes, speak- ing of the Covenanters — ' Their indecent modes of ' prayer, their extravagant expectations of mira- • The passage, of which this last sentence forms a part, and which has supplied the author of Old Mortality with several other hints, is extracted from the Life of Mr. Alexander Peden, the covenanting minister. LET. VIIT. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 291 * culous assistance, and their supposed inspirations, ' might easily furnish out a tale, at which the good * would sigh, and the gay would laugh.* Several leading incidents of Old Mortality may be found in the Memoirs of Captain Creichton, just now cited. In a note on this piece, the editor gives a detailed account of the skirmish at Drum- clog, * from a Cameronian publication of the pe- riod *.' In another note he introduces the venerable enthusiast from whom the tale of Old Mortality is named; and quotes an epitaph preserved by his industry in the church-yard of Lesmahagow f , very similar in taste and spirit to the monumental in- scription over John Balfour, transcribed by Jede- diah Cleishbotham. Francis Stuart, a private in the horse-guards, is spoken of in the Memoirs as the Earl of BothwelFs grandson ; the editor, how- ever, supposes him to have been a degree further removed, as he is stated to be in the novel f . But to explore all the sources of information which the novelist and poet have used in common ; to trace out their footsteps in every spot which, from time to time, they have selected as vantage ground for their invention, would be a wearisome * Swift, ut supra, vol. x. p. 128. f Ibid. p. 160, 1. Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. iv. ch. 15. X Swift, ut supra, vol. x. p. 134. Tales of My Landlord, First Series, vol. ii. ch. 9. U 2 292 LETTERS ON THE LET. viii. and interminable task. Nor shall I detain you long by pressing the inferences to be drawn from their frequent recurrence to the same authors for the purpose of quotation, though a few words on this subject will perhaps not appear superfluous. Both writers occasionally borrow a phrase, verse, or sentence from the Latin classics. ' The old * Patavinian */ Titus Livius, in particular, is much talked of in Waverley, and is bantered on his pro- digies by the author of Marmionf. Among the French historical writers, Froissart and Brantome are particularly distinguished. Of British authors, the principal favourites are the elder dramatists, particularly Shakspeare, Jonson, and Beaumont and Fletcher, and these in their comic rather than their tragic productions ; the writers of comedy from the Restoration to the early part of the last century; the old Scottish poets J; Spenser; and above the rest * the great John Dryden §,' who, I believe, of all writers, is the most frequently quoted and mentioned in terms of admiration by 'the novelist and poet throughout their works. Swift, ♦ Waverley, vol. i. ch. 6. + Introductory Epistle to canto vi. $ The same two lines, " O Douglas ! Douglas ! Tender and true," are introduced from the old poem of The Howlet, in Marmion (canto V. St. 16), and The Abbot (vol. iii. ch. 8). They are made use of, on both occasions, in the body of the dialogue. § Bride of Lamraerraoor, vol- i. ch. 8. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OP WAVERLEY. 293 on the other hand, is less frequently referred to than might be expected. Pope's Iliad and Odyssey are often resorted to for extracts. Somerville is several times complimented in the same manner. Home's Douglas is frequently quoted. The Arabian Nights' Entertainments, and other Eastern fictions that have been naturalized in our country, (and to these I may add the English Oriental tale of Vathek *,) supply both writers with some fanciful allusions. It is not, perhaps, unreasonable to suppose that the detail in Waverley of the hero's favourite studies, may afford a view (of course very partial and im- perfect) of the novelist's own f . The frequent and complimentary notice of con- temporary poets has already been pointed out as a characteristic habit of the author of Waverley, and the author of Marmion has nearly the same fa- vourites. He mentions Campbell with distinguished praise J; from Wordsworth he cites the lines which also appear in the title-page of Rob Roy § ; and he quotes with expressions of high admiration Mr. Coleridge's Ancient Mariner ||, a poem cele- * Referred to in Guy Mannering, vol. i. ch. 19- Paul's Letters, letter xiv. f Waverley, vol. i. ch. 3. X See particularly Marmion, canto v. note I . Paul's Letters, letter ii. ^ Rokeby, canto iv. note 6. || Lord of the Isles, canto i. note 9. ^94 LETTERS ON THE LET. vili. brated in a manner no less flattering by the novelist*, who refers to it at least twice f. We find in Paul's Letters a specimen of the same poet's translation of Schiller's Wallenstein introduced with warm commendations J ; and other extracts occur in the novels §. Southey's Thalaba, which is frequently quoted by the author of Waverley, is alluded to in Paul's Letters || . Crabbe, so often complimented by the novelist, is at least closely studied by the poet, who has published an avowed imitation of his style f . I find in Guy Manner- ing ** a spirited passage from Dr. Leyden, who is so repeatedly and affectionately mentioned by the author of Marmion. The frequent notice and warm praise of Miss Baillie's works by the author of Waverley, have been already observed upon. The author of Marmion is, if possible, a more con- stant and enthusiastic eulogist of that highly-gifted lady; uniting in his language the expressions of cordial friendship with those of applauding criticism. Shakspeare's lyre, he says, had " — Silent hung By silver Avon's holy shore, * Monastery, vol. i. c. 11. f Again, in The Bride of Lammermoor, vol. i. ch. 9. \ Letter xv. § Guy Mannering, vol. i. ch. 4. Kenilworth, vol. ii. ch. 6. II Letter xv. % The Poacher. Miscellaneous Poems, Edinburgh, J 820- •» Vol. i. ch. 8. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVEllLEY. 295 Till twice an hundred years roll'd o'eri When she, the bold Enchantress, came With fearless hand and heart on flame ! From the pale willow snatch'd the treasure, And swept it with a kindred measure. Till Avon's swans, while rung the grove With Monfort's hate and Basil's love, Awakening at the inspired strain, Deem'd their own Shakspeare lived again.** Marmion. Introduction to canto III. In another place * she is mentioned as ' my gifted « friend, Miss Joanna Baillie, whose dramatic works ' display such intimate acquaintance with the ope- * rations of human passion.' The lines quoted in Paul's Letters as those of * our admired friend "|*,' are, I believe, Miss Baillie's; and in a note on Absalom and Achitophel she is styled ' the reviver < of tragedy J.' Can poetical ambition form a higher wish, than to merit such praises, and to receive them at such a hand ? It is a remarkable feature in the characters of both these writers, that, while they very seldom speak of a contemporary in terms of dispraise, they appear to feel a peculiar delight and pride in com- plimenting those who possess any title to their attention, either as personal friends, or as ornaments of general society. The introductory epistles in * Rokeby, canto i. note 2. f Letter ix. X Note iii. Diyden's Works, vol. ix. 296 LETTERS ON THE LET. Vlll. Marmion, addressed to gentlemen having both re- commendations, were an early and marked proof of this disposition in the poet. Similar instances, though of a less finished and elaborate description, abound in his other works, and particularly in his notes, prefaces, and introductions. The author of Wa- verley indulges his honest enthusiasm for merit and talent in his contemporaries and friends at the risk, I think, sometimes of betraying his secret. Among the many names which he has mentioned with characteristic warmth of commendation (and some of them with the kindness of old acquaintance) are those of his * friends Wilkie and Allan*;' of Raeburn and Chantreyf; of Miss EdgeworthJ, Mrs. Hamilton, and Mrs. Grant §; of Mackenzie || ; of the author of Marriage, a novel f ; of Mr. Chal- mers, the historian of Queen Mary**; of the Deputy Register ff; and of the secretary to the Antiquarian Society in Scotland, ' the best amateur ' draftsman (says the novelist) in that kingdom J:f •' Dr. Graham of Aberfoil receives honourable mention for his urbanity and communicative dis- * Heart of Mid-Lothian, vol. iv. ch. 5. t Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 23. Kenilworth, vol. iii. ch. 12. J Waverley, concluding chapter. Monastery — Answer to Captain Clutterbuck. § Waverley, concluding chapter. || Ibid. «[ Tales of My Landlord, Third Series, vol. iv. conclusion. ** Abbot, vol. iii. ch. 10. -f-f Introduction to the Monastery. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 297 position, and for his ' stores of legendary lore *.' And a niche is found for Mr. John Ballantyne, the novelist's publisher, who is good-humouredly remembered, if I am not mistaken, in more than one passage f. I am not aware, however, that the author of Marmion has hitherto, in any of his productions, taken notice of the author of Waverley, either as an acquaintance or as an admired countryman and contemporary I . It now only remains to notice a few peculiarities in phraseology, which I think will fully complete the sum of proof necessary for identifying the two great compeers in romantic celebrity. There is one general observation on this subject, which, in my opinion, has considerable weight. In every work of each writer, which, by its nature, admits the indulgence of such a humour, occasion * Rob Roy, vol. iii. ch. 3. f Answer to Captain Clutterbuck, Introduction to the Monastery. And (as I suppose) in the Introduction to the First Series of Tales of My Landlord. \ It scarcely requires notice as an exception, that in the Provincial Antiquities and Picturesque Scenery of Scotland, No. I. under the head " Crichton Castle," the author of Marmion speaks of Francis Stuart, "mentioned in the Memoirs of Captain Creightoun, but" — " perhaps better known as the Bothwell of the popular novel called Old Mortality."^- Many readers of this admirable romance must have been comforted by learning, from the passage just referred to, that Bothwell was notMn fact killed at Druradog, but was alive, and a Captain, at the battle of Bothwell Bridge. 298 LETTERS ON THE LET. viii. is taken to introduce a vein of quaint, formal, and antiquated discourse, where the thoughts appear in a kind of masquerade dress, sometimes the garb of a remote age, sometimes an anomalous and merely fanciful costume. I scarcely need recall to your mind the old-fashioned turn of expression adopted in the Lay of the Last Minstrel, as appropriate to that species of fable, and never wholly discarded in the subsequent poetical romances. I believe there is not a single volume of the novels in which some personage is not appointed to entertain us with the burlesque solemnity of an obsolete and affected diction. The Baron of Bradwardine performs this office admirably well in Waverley; Mr. Sampson sustains it in Guy Mannering ; Monkbarns, in The Antiquary; Andrew Fair-Service, occasionally, in Rob Roy; Jedediah Cleishbotham in the intro- ductions and notes to the Tales of My Landlord ; Poundtext, Kettledrummle, and Mause, in Old Mortality; David Deans, in some parts of The Heart of Mid Lothian (I say in some parts, for the language of this as of other characters by the same author becomes simple and energetic, or forced and fantastical, as occasions vary); Caleb Balderstone in The Bride of Lammermoor; Dalgetty, in A Legend of Montrose ; Sir Piercie Shafton, and, in a different style. Father Boniface, in the Monastery; and Doctor Luke Lundin, in the Abbot. But in the last two novels, as in Ivanhoe and Kenilworth, LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 299 the whole dialogue is of an antique fashion ; which, however, becomes more or less marked as the scene is tranquil or impassioned, humorous or pathetic. The coincidences falling within the scope of ver- bal criticism, which appear to me most worth notice, are these : The word * peril ' is continually used as a verb by both writers. "Nor peril aught for me agen." Lady of the Lake, Canto II. St. 26. *' I peril'd thus the helpless child." Lord of the Isles, Canto V. St. 10. " Before that adventure be peril'd and won." Harold the Dauntless, Canto IV. St. J 4. ' Were ' the blood * of all my ancestors in my ' veins, I would have peril'd it in this quarrel.' — Waverley, vol. iii. ch. 20. ^ To avoid perilling what I prize so highly."' — Bride of Lammermoor, vol. ii. ch. 8. ' The person of least consequence — were better ' perilled.'— ^66o^, vol. iii. ch. 10. ' I were undeserving his grace, did I not peril it ' for his gooA^ -—Ivanhoe, vol. iii. ch. 11. ' You may peril your own soul, if you list.' — Kenilworth, vol. i. ch. 9. Many more instances might be given, particularly from the last two novels. 300 LETTERS ON THE LET. vili. ' The old-fashioned, if not obsolete substantive ' cumber,' signifying perplexity or embarrassment, is used by both writers. '' Sage counsel in cumber." . Lady of the Lake, Canto III. St. 1 6. ' Thou, good fellow, shalt have no more cumber ' with me.' — Kenilworth^ vol. iii. ch. 1. The verb ' to cumber' is often employed in the same sense ; as, ' Who would cumber themselves ' about pedlar's tidings ?' — Ihid. vol. ii. ch. 8. ' Cumber,' for incumbrance, occurs in one pas- sage. * The miller's daughter will be no farther * cumber to you.' — Monastery^ vol. iii. ch. 4. ' Space* is often put for ' time.' '^ Short space he stood — then waved his hand." Lady of the Lake, Canto V. St. 10. ' Dryden's residence at the university was pro- * longed to the unusual space of nearly seven years.' — Life of Dryden, sect. i. p. 31. « The incidents which had occurred in that * space ' (the Annus Mirabilis, 1666). — Ihid, p. 58. * I will return in brief space.' — Kenilworth, vol. ii. ch. 10. ' To give her — space to plead her own cause.' — Ibid, vol. iii. ch. 6. LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 301 ' Pay ' for * return ' or * requite.' " The loved caresses of the maid The dogs with crouch and whimper paid." Ladi/ of the Lake, Canto II. St. 24. ' Mr, D. Swift paid the cold and reluctant courtesy * of his illustrious relative with the warmest attach- ' ment.' — Life of' Szmft, sect. vii. p. 447. '^ Permit I marshal you the way." Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 10. ** Marshalling the stranger's way." Rokeby, Canto I. St. 5. ' I must marshal! them the way to the high altar.* — Abbot, vol. i. ch. 13. ' Ratcliffe marshalled her the way to the apart- ' ment.' — Heart of Mid Lothian, vol. ii. ch. 8. *' Despite thine arrows and thy bow." Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto III. St. 19. " Despite those titles, power, and pelf." Ibid. Canto VI. St. 1. ' Despite the uncertainty of my situation.' — Rob Roy, vol. iii. ch. 7. ' Despite the asseverations of Edie Ochiltree.' — ■ Antiquary, vol. ii. ch. 6. ' Despite my Dutch education.' — Guy Manner- ingf vol. i. ch. 21. 302 LETTERS ON THE LET. vin. '' Their hands oft grappled to their swords." Lady of the Lake, Canto VI. St. 4. '* their desperate hand Griped to the dagger or the brand." Ibid. Canto II. St. 34. * His quivering fingers griped towards the handle ' of his sword."* — Ivanhoe, vol. i. ch. 5. ' For whom then hast thou ventured .... to ' seek to rend the prey from the valiant .?"' — Tales ofMy Landlord^ First Series, vol. iv. ch. 14. " To spoil the spoiler as we may. And from the robber rend the prey ?" Lady of the Lake^ Canto V. St. 7. *' From the chafed tyger rend the prey." Bridal of Triermain , Canto I. St. 19. A slight inaccuracy of construction in the fol- lowing sentence, " Poor wretch ! the mother that him bare. If she had been in presence there. In his wan face and sunburn'd hair. She had not known her child." Marmion, Canto I. St. 28. Is thus repeated : — ' A countenance so much re- * duced by loss of blood .... that no one could < have recognized in it the gallant soldier who had LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 803 ' behaved with so much spirit at the skirmish of ' Loudon-hill/ — Old Mortaliti/, vol. iii. ch. 15. It is very common, in the works of both these authors, to find " namely,'' or " that is,*" occupying the same place in the sentence as the Latin words " nempe *" and " sciUcet " generally do, when used in a similar sense *. ' A spectre may indeed here and there still be ' seen — bearing in his withered hand an ancient * weapon, called a Lochaber-axe, a long pole, name- ' ly, with an axe at the extremity and a hook at the * back of the hatchet.' — Heart of Mid Lothian^ vol. i. ch. 3. ' Miss Wardour remained for a moment or two ' in the situation in which she had heard the old ' man's last extraordinary speech, leaning, namely, ' against the bars of the window.' — Antiquary y vol. i. ch. 12. ' Lady Margaret Bellenden came up in time to ' see her diminutive man-at-arms stripped of his * lion's hide, of the buff coat, that is, in which he ' was muffled.' — Tales of My Landlord, 1st Series, vol. ii. ch. 3. ' — He notices what constitutes the real power of * every monarch, the love, namely, and allegiance ' of his subjects.' — Rokeby, Canto IV. Note 8. * This remark has been suggested to me, since the appearance of the first edition, by an ingenious Northern correspondent, who illus- trates his criticism by more than forty examples. 304 LETTERS ON THE let. viii. ' — Use might surely be made of the principle ' uppermost in the heart of every Frenchman, and ' which is capable of guiding him to much good or ' evil, — the interest, namely, which high and low ' take in the glory of their country.' — FauVs Let- ters, Letter XVI. I have already noticed the occasional inadvertent use of Scoticisms by the author of Waverley. Nor is the poet exempt from slips of the same kind; such as the writing ' will ' for ' shall :' ' We will fall ^ considerably under the mark.' — Life of Dry den, sect. ii. p. 116, ed. 1808. ' Pays' instead of ' pays ' for r * Shaftesbury pays the lenity with which * Monmouth is dismissed.' — Ibid. sect. v. p. 245. To be ' long of doing a thing : ' The storm — was ' not long of bursting.' — Life of Swift, sect. v. p. 280. To inquire ' at' a person : ' Inquiries were ' frequently made at his faithful clerk Roger Coxe.'' — Ibid. sect. ii. p. 68*. And a few other irregu- larities of idiom, with which I will not now detain you. Both writers sometimes employ the same form of words to announce a transition from one part of the fable to another. * Our tale now returns to Isaac of York.' — Ivan- hoe, vol. iii. ch. 5. * The same inaccuracy is found in the novels : Antiquary, vol. i. ch. 5 ; Monastery, vol. i. ch. 6. LET. Vlll. AUTHOR OF WAVERLF.Y. 305 * The tenor of our tale carries us back to the ' Castle of Lochleven.'— ^66o^ vol. iii. ch. 7. *^ With Bruce and Ronald bides the tale." Lord of the Isles, Canto III. St. 12. *' Yes, sweep they on ! — We will not leave For them that triumph, those who grieve. Yes ! sweep they on ! — But with that skiff Abides the minstrel tale." Ibid. Canto I. St. 17. * Our tale draws to a conclusion. The Marquis ' of A arrived on a subsequent day .... and ' after renewing in vain a search for the body, ' returned,' &c. — Bride of Lammermoor, vol. iii. ch. 8. - '' Gladly I turn me from the sight. Unto my tale again. Short is my tale : — Fitz-Eustace' care A pierced and mangled body bare To moated Lichfield's lofty pile." Marmion, Canto VI. St. 35, 36. The following form of narration is used com- monly in the novels, and although somewhat prosaic, is adopted once at least in the poems. ' To rid the Captain of his cumbrous greaves, ' and case his feet in a pair of brogues made out of X 306 LETTERS ON THE LET. vill. ' deer skin .... was the work of a minute."' — Tales of My Landlord, Third Scries, vol. iv. ch. 6. ' To snatch a mace from the pavement .... to * rush on the Templar's band, and to strike in * quick succession to the right and left, levelling a ' warrior at each blow, was, for Athelstane's great ' strength .... but the work of a single moment. — Jvanhoe, Vol. III. ch. 1. '' To wrench the sword from Wilfrid's hand, To dash him headlong on the sand. Was but one moment's work." ► RokebyyCdintolh^i. 21. The novelist and poet sometimes make the word * you' serve the purpose of the French particle < on.' ' — Flowers and fruits were represented' (on a carpet) * in such glowing and natural colours, * that you hesitated to place the foot on such ex- ' quisite workmanship.' — Ketiilwortk, Vol. 1. ch. 6. ' You might read in his vacant eye and troqbled * brow, that his thoughts were far absent.' — Ibid, Vol. III. ch. 12. '^ You see that all is loneliness :• * * ♦ * Your horse's hoof-tread sounds too rude. So stilly is the solitude." Marmmi^ Introduction to Canto II. LET. VIII. AUTHOK OF WAYERLEY. 307 " The double tressure might you see, First by Achaius borne." Ibid, Canto IV. St. 7. * When the translator places before you, ' not the exact words, but the image of the original ' . . . . the licence .... has an infinite charm."' — Life ofDi^den^ concluding section, p. 514. Both writers are fond of the effect produced by substantives linked in pairs, as ' tower and town,' « stock and rock,* ' bank and bourne *,■* * isle and ' islet, strait and bay f,' * hall and bower,' * down ' and dale J,** ' foam and ripple §,' * hill and hol- * low II,' * moss and haggf,' *crag and stone**,' ' town and tower ff,' * glancing wide over hill and ' dale %%: ' From turret to foundation-stone.' — Monastery^ Introductory Epistle. '• From turret to foundation-stone.'* Marmiony Canto VI. St. 13. Other words are sometimes coupled in the same manner. * Lady of the Lake, Canto I St. 7. 60 ; IV. St. 16. t I^y of the Last Minstrel, Canto VI. St. 2 1 . t Marmion, Canto I. St. 21 ; VI. St. 34. § Lady of the Lake, Canto III. St. 12. * In ripple and in foam. —Abbot, Vol. III. eh. 5. II Monastery, Vol. III. ch. 1 1. ^ Abbot, Vol. II ch. 2. ** Heart of Mid Lothian, Vol. IV. ch. 13. tt Kenilworth, Vol. II. ch. 9. Jl Bride of Lammermoor Vol. III. ch. 7. x2 308 LETTERS ON THE LET. VIII. ' His friend with the battle-axe immediately < whistled clear and shrill/ — Waverley, Vol. I. ch. 16. " Sudden his guide whooped loud and high." Lady of the Lake, Canto IV. St. 20. ' Therewithal he whistled sharp and shrill.' — Kenilworth, Vol. I. ch. 10. '' Stretching forward free and far." Lady of the Lake, Canto I. St. 2. In Marmion the poet speaks of— *^' Thunder-dint, and flashing levin." Canto I. St. 23. And Friar Tuck, in Ivanhoe, says that the castle fell in ' as with wild thunder-dint and levin-fire.* — Vol. III. ch. 2. In the description of the Trosachs we have — many a rocky pyramid;; Shooting abruptly from the dell , Its thunder-splintered pinnacle." Lady of the Lake, Canto I. St. 11. And in the Heart of Mid Lothian — ' a sea-ward ^ view of the shattered and thunder-splitten peaks ' of Arran.'— Vol. IV. ch. 8. In the Lady of the Lake — LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 309 '* The deep-mouthed blood-hound's heavy bay Resounded up the rocky way." Canto I. St. 1. And in Montrose — ' the deep-mouthed baying of a * hound was heard coming down the wind.' — Last vol. ch. 6. ' Permit me, for thine own souPs sake, to speak ' a few words to these misguided men.' — Abbot, Vol. I. ch. 14. " For that good deed, permit me then, A word with these misguided men." Lady of the Lake, Canto V. St. 27. The following peculiar turn of expression — " He trimm'd the fire, and gave to shine With bickering light the splinter'd pine — " Lord of the Isles, Canto III. St. 28. is not, I believe, unfrequent in the poems, and may also be met with in the novels ; thus — ' Dame Elspeth assisted to disembarrass the ' damsel .... of her hood, mantle, and the rest of ' her riding gear, giving her to appear as beseemed * the buxom daughter of the wealthy miller.' — Monastery y Vol. II. ch. 1. " Beneath an oak he Laid him down. That in the blaze gleamed ruddy brown." Rokeby, Canto V. St. 37- ' A hill was now before the travellers, covered 310 LETTERS ON THE LET. VIII. ' with an ancient forest of Scottish firs, the topmost < of which — gleamed ruddy in the setting sun.' — Legend of Montrose, ch. 4. ' The victors — gazed — upon the flames, in which ' their own ranks and arms glanced dusky red.' — Ivanhoe, Vol. III. ch. 1. His armour bright. Gleam'd ruddy like the beacon's light." Bridal of Trier?nain, Canto I. St. l2. The word * plash,' which is a favourite with the author of Marmion, " The mildew drops fell one by one, With tinkling plash, upon the stone." Marmion, Canto II. St. IS. " The short dark waves With ceaseless plash, kiss'd cliff or sand — " Lord of the Isles, Canto III. St, 28. is also used in the Antiquary. The ' waters' of the lake ' were only distinguished by their sullen and * murmuring plash against the beach.' — Vol. II. ch. 10. " Ke mann'd himself with dauntless air." Lad^ of the Lake, Canto V. St. 10. ' My hair bristled and my knees shook. I manned ' myself, however, and determined to return,' &c. — Waverley^ Vol. III. ch. 12. Both writers, the one in his Introduction to the LET. Mil. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 311 Monastery (letter to Captain Clutterbuck), the other m his Life of Swift (conckiding section, page 497), use the name Utopia to denote the realm of imagination in general, not confining it, as the etymology requires, to supposed regions of abso- lute perfection. The familiar appellation of ' Bluff King HaP is applied to Henry the Eighth in Marmion, '' Bluflf King Hal the curtain drew." Canto VI. St. 38. And in Kenil worth we are told of * a reverend * father Abbot, who was fain to give place to bluff « King Hall.^— Vol. II. ch. 6. The following antique expression is several times repeated by the novelist and poet : " To him he lost his lady-love." Marmion, Canto I. St. 12. *' Memorial of his ladye-love." Lay of the Last Minstrelt Canto IV. St. 1(>, ' I vow by the name of my bright lady-love.'— Ivanhoe, Vol. II. ch. 15. < I know no right of chivalry,"" he said, * more ' precious or inalienable than that of each free « knight to choose his lady-love by his own judg- ' meiiV—Ibid. Vol. I. ch. 9. It cannot, I think, appear frivolous or irrelevant, 312 LETTERS ON THE LET. vill. in the inquiry we arc pursuing, to dwell on these minute coincidences. Unimportant indeed they are, if looked upon as subjects of direct criticism ; but considered with reference to the present com- parison, they resemble those light substances which, floating on the trackless sea, discover the true set- ting of some mighty current ; they are the buoyant drift-wood which betrays the hidden communica- tion of two great poetic oceans. I will now, Sir, conclude a series of remarks which, perhaps, would never have been commenced if I could have anticipated the length to which they have insensibly extended. You will smile when I declare that in every part of these letters I have been anxious to compress my observations as far as appeared consistent with a proper treatment of the question, and that scarcely any topic has been dis- missed because the materials were exhausted. But who, in speaking of a favourite author, was ever able to confine himself within his proposed limits ? And what subject of discussion ever yielded stronger inducements to deviate and to linger, than the theme on which I have detained you ? When our path lies amidst the richest and sweetest flowers, is it easy to press on unrelaxing to the goal ? Too often, I confess, have illustrations been selected, as much, at least, for beauty as for aptness ; arguments have been followed up, when there remained no weigKtier LET. VIII. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 313 motive for pursuing them than the pleasure of pur- suit ; comparative criticism has lost itself in positive disquisition ; and the result has been this enormous intrusion on your leisure, for which I dare not now solicit your favourable consideration, but I anxiously entreat your indulgence. Yet, Sir, however mortified I might feel at having wearied you by a tedious and rambling dissertation, there is another point on which I should be much more sorry to have transgressed. If these letters merely fatigue your patience, you will lay them aside, and part with them, I hope, in charity ; but it would be a heavy reproach upon their author, if you dismissed them with a feeling of just displeasure at any freedom used with that great writer and re- spected man, who adds to his other titles of honour that of being your friend. But on this head I have little apprehension. In addressing to you a course of remarks affecting our admired poet and biographer, I have not thought myself permitted to advance a single observation which might not have been freely urged (if the question could have been raised at all) in his own presence. As I have never felt the most transient inclination to violate this rule, I am persuaded that neither zeal nor in- advertence can in any instance have led me to in- fringe it. If personal topics have been insisted on, they are of a nature wholly inoffensive, and such 314 LETTERS ON THE let. vill. only as the poet has himself supplied in his acknow- ledged publications. For the liberty I have taken with some passages of his works which appeared open to critical reflection, I would not (supposing him acquainted with what I had written) offend his excellent sense by offering an apology, nor do I offer any to you. The secret I have attempted to penetrate may fairly be regarded as a riddle propounded to the public ; an enigma, of which they have no right to demand the solution, but every man may freely promulgate his own. In attempting to unravel such a mystery by honest and open means, there can surely be neither officiousness nor indiscretion. The materials out of which this essay is formed, were lying in the full view of the world ; I have combined them as my own fancy and judgment guided me; if my speculations are ill-founded, they yield a new testimony to the address of him who can so skilfully elude conjecture ; if just, they serve indeed to fix and determine our opinions, but they leave the mysterious subject of our inquiries as fully master of his secret as he was before those in- quiries began. It cannot be wrested from him by mere argumentative proof, nor would I have adduced any other, even though it had been in my possession. If a mask excites our curiosity, we may .endeavour to detect him by his voice, his walk, his LET. VITI. AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. 315 jests, his minute habits, his choice of character, his selection of colours, his general style of dress ; but it would be a pitiful and sordid diligence which sought to make assurance perfect by pry- ing into his dressing-room, overhearing his di- rections to his servants, or secretly pursuing him to his home. I earnestly hope that the author of Waverley may never be disturbed in his concealment by this mean and mechanical spirit of inquisition, even though he should indefinitely prolong the duration of our present uncertainty. All legitimate endeavours to read his riddle he may, I think, regard with un- moved complacency, retaining his disguise in spite of them, so long as it shall be his pleasure to wear one. And late, very late may he discard it, if the mystery it casts around his person be in any degree propitious to the exercise of that genius which has so exalted and enriched our literature. The gratification of curiosity, however intense, would be a grievous misfortune, if attended by cessation of the wonder-working power which raised our curiosity so high. " The charm was broke, when the spirit spok^ And it murmur'd suUenlie, 316 LETTERS ON THE LET. VII i. * Alas ! that ever thou raised'st thine eyes. Thine eyes to look on me.' " Lord Soulis, Border Minstrelsy, Vol. III. Part 3. There may perhaps be an appearance of undue freedom towards our admirable poet, in the very act of associating his name thus pointedly and unreservedly with that of another writer, who, after all, is possibly as much a stranger to him as myself. For this error, if such you deem it, I can only plead in excuse the zeal arising from attach- ment to a long-cherished opinion, and from a warm, perhaps a romantic wish, that it may prove well- founded. The unclaimed honours of the novelist must ultimately descend on some head, and I would gladly see them rest on one which has al- ready been adorned with wreaths of literary tri- umph. There is a magnificence in the thought that all these noble fictions, in poetry and in prose, are the vast and various creation of one versatile and energetic mind, such as our country, such as the world has seldom seen disporting itself in works of imagination. And if this mighty talent is to be discovered in a single mortal, there is none in whom I should so much rejoice to find it recognized as the ardent, the chivalrous, the tender, the stainless, the patriotic Minstrel of the Border. It is, I am well aware, an intrusion even to " thrust greatness" upon one who would decline it ; but the zeal which LET. vill. AUTHOR OF WAVERLKY. 317 is distasteful to him,may meet indulgence, and even sympathy, from his admirers : and you, I am sure, will pardon the mistaken, if mistaken, enthusiasm which would invest your honoured friend with the sovereignty of a twofold intellectual kingdom, more valuable than Spain and the Indies. I have the honour to be, &c. M. THE END. I%f^^Mr 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED ' LOAN Dr:rA'-.T.M'i-rr THE Gt>«Er.>M. LiarV'.RY This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. AUG 3 197: jT^ OKLUg w » aa Mrtt: ^ Jun37li LD21-35m-8,'72 (Q4189S10)476 — A-32 General Library University of California Berkeley Berkeley U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES cDsnsbaii im2