FAMILIAR ANECDOTES 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 BY JAMES HOGG 
 
 THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 
 
 WITH A SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE SHEPHERD, 
 BY S. DEW1TT BLOODGOOD. 
 
 "A man's a man, for a' that. 
 
 NEW- YORK: 
 
 PWBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 NO. 82, CLIFF-STREET. 
 
 AND 30LD BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS THROUGHOUT 
 
 THE UNITED STATES. 
 
 

 Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1834, b> 
 Hajiper & Brothers, in the office of the Clerk of the Southern 
 District of New- York. 
 
 11. Ludwig, i'rmter, 72, Vesey-st. 
 

 DEDICATED 
 
 THE THIRD DEPARTMENT 
 
 \ 
 
 OP THE 
 
 ALBANY INSTITUTE, 
 

PREFACE 
 
 The following brief sketch of the life and pro- 
 ductions of the Ettrick Shepherd, is the first 
 which has yet appeared from the pen of any 
 American writer. 
 
 The information is derived from the Shepherd's 
 own narratives given at various times to the 
 public, and from those periodical publications 
 which have occasionally noticed the career of this 
 remarkable man. 
 
 A careful examination of all the materials with- 
 in reach has been made, for the purpose of 
 correction, wherever it became necessary. It 
 was deemed advisable to prefix this sketch to the 
 Familiar Anecdotes, in order to give both a just 
 idea of the author, and of the value of the 
 Anecdotes themselves. 
 
 The writer of the Waverley Novels occupies a 
 vast space in the literature of his country. Upon 
 a field apparently forgotten and unappreciated, he 
 raised, like the fairy structure of Abbotsford, 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 though far more lasting, a monument of his ge- 
 nius, taste, and industry. 
 
 The Shepherd was his admirer and his friend. 
 Still, however, his keen vision appears to have ex- 
 tended beyond the atmosphere which the world 
 flung around its idol. 
 
 It is believed that the character of Sir Walter 
 Scott could not be perfectly appreciated, much 
 as it has been studied and described, if something 
 of the nature of these Anecdotes were not to 
 appear. How they came to be first offered to the 
 American public will be seen in the following 
 pages. 
 
 The publishers have made a very liberal ar- 
 rangement with the Editor, by which, if the work 
 proves successful, something substantial may be 
 realised for the benefit of the Shepherd. 
 
 We regret to say, that after all his industry and 
 talent have achieved, adversity has been his chief 
 companion. His cheerfulness, however, continues 
 unabated, and it may be truly said of him, 
 
 "Though fortune's malice overthrows his state, 
 His mind exceeds the compass of her wheel." 
 
 
SKETCH 
 
 OF THE 
 
 SHEPHERD'S LIFE 
 
 Those persons who, by the force of genius, 
 have overcome the difficulties attending a 
 humble origin, or have risen above the disad- 
 vantages of a defective education, have ever 
 been very properly considered extraordinary 
 characters. 
 
 Mankind pay homage to those who soar 
 above the mass, whether in a natural state of 
 society or among civilized communities. In 
 the former, unrestrained by those codes of law 
 
8 SKETCH OP THE 
 
 which protect the weak in intellect against the 
 arts of the more cunning, and those deficient 
 in physical strength against the assaults of the 
 more powerful, great deference is paid to the 
 superiority of mental or corporeal endowments. 
 
 It would be unnecessary to suggest to intel- 
 ligent readers the proof of this disposition of 
 the human heart, conversant as they must be 
 with the histories of those countries and those 
 eras, in which obscure individuals have start- 
 ed from viewless points, to become the leaders 
 of myriad armies and countless proselytes, 
 the founders of empires and of creeds. 
 
 In our own times, in this most civilized age 
 of the world, the same feeling of admiration 
 has aided extraordinary talent, (itself the first 
 cause of that admiration,) to attain unexam- 
 pled success. Our own eyes have beheld in- 
 dividuals working their way upward from the 
 
shepherd's life, 9 
 
 humblest class of society, to the first places in 
 literature, and the first rank in arms. These 
 instances do not take away from our wonder 
 at each new example. For there is far more 
 difficulty in our day, in rising above the com- 
 mon level, than at those eras, in which less 
 information was distributed, and less restraint 
 prevailed of actual knowledge upon the ima- 
 ginings of genius. 
 
 The spirit of the age is to raise all to a 
 happy equality. Every association is form- 
 ed upon this principle, every combination 
 exists with this idea. Education is work- 
 ing wonders, particularly in our own country, 
 where its efforts increase in a ratio, that has 
 scarce an equivalent in terms. 
 
 Indeed, the first care of all good govern- 
 ments is now understood to be, to provide insti- 
 tutions for the instruction of the young, and 
 
10 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 the favorite object of individual philanthropy, 
 is to facilitate their progress. 
 
 But where all are provided out of the same 
 armory, the contest for victory becomes more 
 arduous. In a crowd of equally matched 
 combatants, it is the more difficult to ob- 
 tain success. 
 
 Among savages, personal bravery and elo- 
 quence are qualities in which there is power. 
 These draw every thing else within the grasp 
 of the possessor. 
 
 In civilized life, competition is extended 
 throughout countless varieties of forms, and 
 at a certain grade of talent and attainment, 
 there is a point above which very few ascend. 
 There are thousands of chemists, natural- 
 ists, poets, and lawyers, who are all well in- 
 formed, intelligent, and respectable in their 
 professions. 
 
shepherd's life. 11 
 
 Through this crowd, the ambitious musi 
 pass to reach the distant goal, and he who 
 seeks distinction must leave this crowd be- 
 hind. The determination is the character- 
 istic of genius, but the assistance of the mass 
 is not easily won to the support of those, 
 who, in striving to ascend, and by that very 
 effort, discover their indisposition to linger 
 among the million. The first feeling of the 
 mass is to doubt the abilities, and certainly 
 the success of their late companion j and if 
 the rise of the individual is retarded by the 
 pressure of poverty, the impediments to his 
 progress are generally insurmountable. 
 
 The son of genius experiences the truth 
 of these remarks, and it is at the very outset 
 of his career, that the circumstances which 
 make success so difficult in modern times, 
 present themselves in array before him. — 
 
12 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 When his heart is most susceptible, and his 
 sensibilities are most lively, these seem to 
 press hardest upon him. It is a crisis 
 
 " Which makes him or undoes him quite." 
 
 But this very difficulty of success in civil- 
 ized life, where learning and education are 
 more equally diffused, felt as it is by the aspi- 
 rant for fame in all its force, only makes suc- 
 cess more glorious. If indifference or enmi- 
 ty, or ill-natured criticism has caused the 
 death of such men as Montesquieu, they have 
 also roused the energies of such as Byron. 
 
 Those persons who are curious in their 
 speculations upon this subject, will do well 
 to consult the entertaining and instruc- 
 tive works of D'Israeli, and the recent produc- 
 tion of Dr. Madden ; who, however, has drawn 
 largely, for the interest he has imparted to his 
 
shepherd's life. 13 
 
 own opinions, upon those of the former gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 To come back to the purpose of this Sketch, 
 from which we were naturally led by the recol- 
 lection of the difficulties attending the career of 
 eminent persons, we cannot but think the au- 
 thor of the Familiar Anecdotes in all respects, 
 one of the most remarkable men of the day. 
 His career is too singular, his triumph too 
 admirable, to be passed over without comment. 
 
 There is a propriety in making his charac- 
 ter known, when we see with what care " the 
 pursuit of knowledge under difficulties " has 
 recently been illustrated. Every develope- 
 ment of the resources of the human intellect is 
 useful, and the weak hand and fainting spirit 
 will be strengthened by the recital of the con- 
 duct of those who have vanquished poverty and 
 
 ignorance, indifference, criticism, and enmity. 
 2 
 
14 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 In this spirit we have undertaken the Life 
 of James Hogg, happier in being able to pour^ 
 tray the lineaments of a living character, 
 than in being obliged to recal the outlines 
 of a lamented friend. 
 
 He has met with many sad reverses since 
 he emancipated himself from the ignorance of 
 infancy, but his indomitable courage, and his 
 frank and manly bearing, have secured for 
 him the respect of literary men in every coun- 
 try. His reputation as a poet and romance 
 writer is established, and we trust that the 
 second Burns may yet feel the security of his 
 position, far, far removed from the influence 
 of undeserved misfortunes, or the treachery of 
 pretended friends. Our readers will be aston- 
 ished to learn the lowness of the condition 
 from which he has so honourably elevated 
 himself. Few among the illustrious great 
 
shepherd's life. 15 
 
 ever rose from so humble a beginning. Even 
 our own Franklin, with but a penny roll for 
 his breakfast, had the greatest possible ad van- 
 tage in his career, over this poor lad wander- 
 ing almost naked on the bleak hills of Ettrick. 
 No wonder the poet has declared that he 
 likes "to write about himself." — He must 
 feel an honest pride in having passed safely 
 over that season of youthful suffering and 
 hapless ignorance, to become the boast of Scot- 
 land. If Sir Walter Scott has elaborately 
 traced the efforts of his own mind in its 
 splendid developement, the Ettrick Shepherd 
 may well be excused for telling us, how he has 
 triumphed over adversity. From his own ac- 
 count of his birth and parentage, as well as 
 another which we have derived from the 
 widow of his brother Robert, we learn that he 
 was the second son of Robert Hogg and Mar* 
 
16 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 garet Laidlaw, and was born on the 25th of 
 January, 1772. His natal day was the an- 
 niversary of Burns' birth, and it was marked 
 by an occurrence of a truly Scottish charac- 
 ter. A messenger was despatched on horse- 
 back, -for the midwife whose services were re- 
 quired on this occasion, but the night was 
 gloomy and dark, the Ettrick " deep in flood " 
 and the unfortunate man was drowned in 
 the attempt to cross its stream. Neverthe- 
 less, by some strange and unlooked for aid, 
 the female arrived in time to give her needed 
 assistance at the perilous hour. 
 
 His father, and, indeed, his ancestors were 
 all Shepherds, and he and his brothers served 
 in the same capacity. The eldest, William, 
 was formerly, if he is not now, shepherd to Sir 
 James Montgomery of the county of Peebles 
 in Scotland. David, the third son, was in the 
 
shepherd's life. 17 
 
 employment of Sir Walter Scott, and Robert, 
 the youngest, having also engaged in the 
 same pursuit, recently died on his passage to 
 the United States, after having been only a 
 few days out of port. He has left a widow 
 and young family behind him. 
 
 The editor of this work having been writ- 
 ten to by James, the poet, to ascertain the sit- 
 uation of his brother's family, was pleased to 
 learn that they arrived safely in this country, 
 and are now very happily situated at Silver 
 Lake, in Pennsylvania, where they have 
 found a liberal friend and generous landlord 
 in Robert H. Rose. Their prospects are quite 
 cheering, and the interest they have excited 
 is not merely that o£ association with their re- 
 lative the poet, but what has also arisen from 
 their own exemplary conduct and amiable 
 
 character. 
 
 2* 
 
18 SKETCH OE THE 
 
 The father of the poet, having saved a con- 
 siderable sum of money, commenced the busi- 
 ness of a dealer in sheep, and in order to car- 
 ry it on more advantageously, took a lease of 
 two Ettrick farms, known as Ettrick House 
 and Ettrick Hall. His efforts, nevertheless^ 
 were unsuccessful. A sudden and general 
 depreciation of the value of sheep, and the 
 fraudulent conduct of his principal debtor, re- 
 duced him to beggary, and he was turned 
 forth pennyless upon the world. 
 
 It appears that, during a short prosperity 
 which the father of the poet experienced in 
 his business, the latter attended a neighbour- 
 ing school, but as he was not six years of age 
 when he was obliged to leave it, in conse- 
 quence of the misfortunes of his parent, he 
 had made but little progress, being able 
 merely to read the Proverbs of Solomon and 
 
shepherd's life. 19* 
 
 the Shorter Catechism. Indeed, at that ten- 
 der age, even this, under all the circumstan- 
 ces, was more than could have been expected. 
 It seems that a friendly neighbour, (whose 
 name, for the honour of humanity, we here 
 preserve) Mr. Brydon of Crosslee, with a con- 
 siderate regard for the distressed, engaged 
 Mr. Hogg, the Senior, as his shepherd ; 
 and, indeed, until his death, proved himself 
 a man of true humanity, by many acts of 
 kindness towards the family, to which the 
 poet has often feelingly alluded. 
 
 Still, however, the children were forced to 
 do something for themselves, and at the age 
 of seven years, James went to service as a 
 cowherd, and received for half a year's ser- 
 vice, " a ewe lamb and a pair of shoes." He 
 describes himself at this period as somewhat 
 eccentiic, running about almost naked, and 
 
20 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 constantly losing his clothes (such as they 
 were) in these rambles among the hills. 
 
 During the winter of the next year, his pa- 
 rents managed to send him to a school, at 
 which the children of a farmer in the neigh- 
 bourhood were instructed, and here, in a Bible 
 class, he learned to read correctly. His efforts 
 to acquire a knowledge of writing were una- 
 vailing. " Every letter," says the poet, " with 
 which I disfigured the sheets of paper, was 
 nearly an inch in length." No more instruc- 
 tion did the young lad ever attain at school. 
 For thus, as he expresses himself, " terminat- 
 ed my education ! " We are particular in 
 the relation of this part of the poet's life, as 
 it forms a remarkable contrast with his sub- 
 sequent celebrity. 
 
 In the succeeding spring he again returned 
 to his occupation of tending the kine, which 
 
shepherd's life. 21 
 
 was the lowest employment then known in 
 Scotland. From this period until he became 
 fifteen years of age, he served many different 
 masters, but rose at length to the more honour- 
 able grade of shepherd's boy. From some 
 he received kind treatment and from others 
 the reverse. At one time he was almost des- 
 titute of clothing, his parents being unable to 
 procure him a sufficient quantity to make 
 him even tolerably warm, out of the wretched 
 pittance of his hard earned wages. His time, 
 constantly absorbed by his employment, left 
 him without much opportunity for reading, 
 and the Bible was the only book to which he 
 had free access. 
 
 At this period his natural taste for music 
 led him to invest a portion of his scanty wa- 
 ges in the purchase of an old violin. In this 
 taste he resembled Burns, who was himself a* 
 
22 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 "fiddler as well as poet." Five shillings, with 
 difficulty collected together, determined his 
 choice of an instrument. He became a musi- 
 cian, and now it is well known among his 
 friends, that music is one of the favourite 
 amusements of the Shepherd. This very- 
 circumstance no doubt had a direct influence 
 upon the future literary labours of the Bard ; 
 for, when Sir Walter Scott, years afterwards, 
 went in search of " the ancient ballad," and 
 to gather relics of the forest minstrelsy, he 
 found the Shepherd familiar with more tra- 
 ditionary accounts, acquainted with more of 
 the ancient songs, and possessed of more of 
 the spirit of Scottish poetry than any person 
 he had yet met in Scotland. This testimo- 
 ny is highly encomiastic of the character and 
 the talent of the young poet. 
 
 Mr, Hogg's next remove was to Elibank 
 
shepherd's LIFE. M 
 
 upon Tweed, where he remained a year and 
 a half in his old occupation, and thence to 
 Willenslee, where he was employed by Mr. 
 Laidlaw for two years in succession. It was 
 in his eighteenth year that he first saw the 
 " Life and Adventures of Sir William Wal- 
 lace," and Ramsay's " Gentle Shepherd." — 
 It is very curious that Burns mentions the 
 game work (the History of Wallace) as the 
 first book he ever read in private, and he says 
 of it and another, the Life of Hannibalj 
 which he read at the same time, that they 
 gave him more pleasure than any two books 
 he ever saw afterwards. The coincidence 
 is exceedingly interesting. It was with the 
 greatest difficulty he mastered these works.-— 
 His comprehension of the measure was very 
 obscure, in consequence of the dialect in which 
 the works were composed. 
 
24 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 Mrs. Laidlaw, the wife of his employer, 
 gave him to study, for his edification, some 
 books of a theological nature, and among 
 others " Burnet's Theory of the Conflagra- 
 tion of the Earth." This work almost crazed 
 the poor young man. He assures us the con- 
 templation of the millenium, with its various 
 consequences, " nearly overturned " his brain. 
 He now, for the first time, attempted to 
 write a letter to his brother. But his speci- 
 men of chirography, must, according to his 
 own account, have been indeed unique. 
 Even Tony Lumpkin would have come off 
 conqueror in a contest with the Shepherd. 
 Whether his brother ever succeeded in de- 
 cyphering the scroll, he has not in his amus- 
 ing account of himself, informed us. 
 In 1790, at the age of eighteen, he entered 
 
shepherd's life. 25 
 
 the service of Mr. Laidlaw of Black House, 
 with whom he remained until the year 1800. 
 It was in 1796 that he first felt the inspiration 
 of the Muse. A number of valuable books 
 were placed before him by his friend for pe- 
 rusal, in which he became deeply interested. 
 From the moment he comprehended their 
 meaning, his own genius began to arouse 
 itself to exertion. 
 
 Led by the prevailing taste of his associates, 
 and the attachment which every where shew- 
 ed itself for the local traditions of the Scottish 
 Muse, Mr. Hogg first turned his attention to 
 the composition of songs and ballads, happy 
 to hear them chaunted by the neighbouring 
 lassies, who rejoiced in the Muse of " Jamie 
 the Poeter." 
 
 The difficulties which beset him in his at- 
 tempts to write these songs, were of no trifling 
 3 
 
26 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 character. Although in most of the sketches 
 of this remarkable man, the following hats 
 found a place, we imagine it is too singular, 
 and too novel to be omitted by any biogra- 
 pher who seeks to illustrate the workings of 
 his mind. " I had no more difficulty in com- 
 posing songs then, than I have at present. 
 But then the writing of them — that was a 
 job ! I had no method of learning to write, 
 than by following the Italian alphabet, and 
 although I always stripped myself of coat 
 and vest when I began to pen a song, yet 
 my wrist took a cramp, so that I could rarely 
 make above four or six lines at a sitting. 
 
 " Whether my manner of writing it out, 
 was new I know not, but it was not without 
 singularity. Having very little time to spare 
 from my flock, which was unruly enough, I 
 folded and stitched a few sheets of paper to- 
 
shepherd's life. 27 
 
 gether, which I carried in my pocket. I had 
 no ink-horn, but in place of it, I borrowed a 
 small vial, which I fixed in a hole in the breast 
 of my waistcoat, and having a cork fastened 
 by a piece of twine, it answered the purpose 
 fully as well. Thus equipped, whenever a 
 leisure minute or two offered, and I had noth- 
 ing else to do, I sat down and wrote out my 
 thoughts as I found them. This is still my 
 invariable practice in writing prose. I cannot 
 make out one sentence by study, without the 
 pen in my hand to catch the ideas as they 
 arise. My manner of composing poetry is 
 very different, and I believe much more singu- 
 lar. Let the piece be of what length it will, I 
 compose and correct wholly in my mind, or 
 on a slate, ere ever I put pen to paper, and 
 then I write it down as fast as the A. B. C." 
 It was in the next year 1797, that he first 
 
28 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 heard of Burns, whose death had taken place 
 during the preceding year. This ignorance 
 of the author of Tarn O'Shanter, is not 
 strange when we consider the limited oppor- 
 tunities of the Shepherd, and the fact that 
 Burns' poems had not become familiar to the 
 lower classes of Scottish readers. It was not 
 until his death that Scotland knew what she 
 had lost, or shewed the respect due his great 
 talents. 
 
 A very curious description of the Shep- 
 herd's feeling is given by himself, on his hear- 
 ing for the first time some account of Burns, 
 his birth and death, with those anecdotes of 
 his condition and character, which were now 
 becoming every day more and more the 
 topics of conversation among the country folk. 
 A half-witted fellow came one day to the hill 
 side, and told him the story of Burns, at the 
 
shepherd's life. 29 
 
 same time repeating as a specimen of his poe- 
 try the universal favourite, Tarn O'Shanter. 
 
 The story impressed itself deeply on the 
 Shepherd's mind, and before his companion 
 left him he could repeat every word of it him- 
 self ! A strong memory seems to be the pre- 
 rogative of the Bards of Scotland. Sir Wal- 
 ter Scott has been known to repeat a poem of 
 several hundred lines, merely upon hearing it 
 recited once. 
 
 It appears that the ambition as well as the 
 
 memory of the Shepherd was affected by the 
 
 information. On comparing the friendless 
 
 youth of Burns with his own, he found a 
 
 close resemblance between them, and when it 
 
 occurred to him that his own birth-day was 
 
 also that of Burns, that ballads and songs had 
 
 inspired them both, he resolved to " be a poet 
 
 and follow in his steps. " 
 3* 
 
30 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 There was one deficiency in himself which 
 quite overpowered the sensitive young Bard. 
 He could not write, and he wept to think, 
 however fancy and inspiration might impart 
 their influence, he could not "catch their 
 shadows as they passed. " 
 
 About this period he was attacked violently 
 with a complaint to which he had always 
 been subject, and during his agony which 
 was almost insupportable, he saw his attend- 
 ant, an old woman, fall into a swoon on see- 
 ing as she imagined, his ghost. But in spite 
 of her second sight, and a consultation which 
 
 he overheard as to the best method of laying 
 
 r 
 him out, he recovered, thanks to a kind 
 
 Providence and a good physician. 
 
 It appears that all this time he was con- 
 stantly practising in song writing, though his 
 first published song made its appearance in 
 
shepherd's life. 31 
 
 1801. At this period England was threat- 
 ened with invasion by Napoleon, and not 
 only was the materiel of the nation called 
 on to defend its shores, but writers of all de- 
 scriptions, from the poets, inspired by the di- 
 vinity that stirs within them, down to the 
 hack writer who toils at a penny a line, were 
 active in the cause of their country. 
 
 The Shepherd did not fail to catch the 
 glow of feeling pervading every rank, and he 
 published anonymously the following popular 
 song. As it is referred to in the Anecdotes 
 which follow this notice of the author, per- 
 haps its insertion here may not be out of place. 
 
 Air. " WocPd an married an a\ " 
 
 My name it is Donald McDonald, 
 I live in the Highland's sae grand, 
 I've followed our banner, and will do, 
 
32 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 Wherever my Maker has land. 
 
 When rankit amang the blue bonnets 
 
 Nae danger can fear me ava ; 
 
 I ken that my brethren around me, 
 
 Are either to conquer or fa'. 
 Brogues and brochan and a' 
 Brochan and brogues and a' ! 
 And is na the laddie weel aff 
 Wha has brogues and brochan and a' ? 
 
 Short syne we were wonderfu' canty 
 Our friends and our country to see ; 
 But since the proud Consul's grown vauntie 
 We'll meet him by land or by sea. 
 Wherever a Clan is disloyal 
 Wherever our king has a foe, 
 He'll quickly see Donald McDonald, 
 Wi' his Highlanders a' in a row. 
 
 Guns and pistols and a' 
 
 Pistols and guns and a' 
 
 He'll quickly see Donald McDonald, 
 
 Wi' guns and pistols and a' ! 
 
shepherd's life. 
 
 What though we befreendit young Charlie ? 
 To tell it I dinna think shame, 
 Puir lad ! he came to us but barely, 
 And reckoned our mountains his hame ? 
 It's true that our reason forbade us, 
 But tenderness carried the day ; 
 Had Geordie come friendless amang us, 
 Wi' him we had a' gane away. 
 
 Sword and buckler and a', 
 
 Buckler and sword and a' ; 
 
 For George we'll encounter the devil, 
 
 Wi' sword and buckler and a'! 
 
 And, O, I wad eagerly press him, 
 The keys o' the East to retain ; 
 For should he gie up the possession 
 We'll soon hae to force them again. 
 Than yield up an inch wi' dishonour, 
 Though it were my finishing blow ; 
 He aye may depend on McDonald 
 Wi' his Highlandmen a' in a row. 
 
34 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 Knees and elbows and a', 
 Elbows and knees and a' ; 
 Depend upon Donald McDonald, 
 His knees and elbows and a'. 
 
 If Bonaparte land at Fort William, 
 Auld Europe nae langer shall grane, 
 I laugh when I think how we'll gall him 
 Wi' bullet, wi' steel and wi' stane. 
 Wi' rocks o' the Nevis and Garry, 
 We'll rattle him aff frae our shore, 
 Or lull him asleep in a cairnie, 
 And sing him, " Lochaber no more. " 
 Stanes and bullets and a', 
 Bullets and stanes and a' ; 
 We'll finish the Corsican callan', 
 Wi' stanes and bullets and a'. 
 
 The Gordon is gude in a hurry ; 
 And Campbell is steel to the bane, 
 And Grant, and McKenzie, and Murray, 
 And Cam'ron will hurkle to nane. 
 
shepherd's lite. 35 
 
 The Stuart is sturdy and wannel, 
 And sae is Macleod and Mackay, 
 And I, their gude brother Mac Donald, 
 Sail never be last in the fray. 
 
 Brogues and brochan and a', 
 
 Brochan and brogues and a' ; 
 
 And up wi' the bonnie blue bonnet 
 
 The kilt and the feather and a.' 
 
 This song sprang at once into celebrity. 
 It became a universal favourite, and was re- 
 ceived at once into all societies. Mr. Hogg 
 states that he first sang it at a social meeting 
 at the Crown Tavern in Edinburgh, and that 
 he left it, at the suggestion of some one, 
 whose name he has forgotten, to be properly 
 arranged and engraved. In his retreat from 
 the gay world, he afterwards heard that it 
 was a song in every one's mouth, though 
 no one troubled himself to inquire into the 
 
36 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 condition, or learn the name of the author. 
 Two anecdotes are connected with it, which 
 we cannot refrain from repeating. Earl Moi- 
 ra, commander-in-chief of the forces in Scot- 
 land, better known to American readers as 
 the Lord Rawdon who served under Corn- 
 wallis during the revolution, happened to be 
 present at a dinner in Edinburgh where this 
 song was sung. After three successive en- 
 cores which were complied with, his lordship 
 arose, expatiated on its excellence, praised 
 the singer who was a very respectable person, 
 and offered him his whole influence for any 
 thing he could aid him in obtaining from the 
 government. 
 
 And yet such is life, — the name of the au- 
 thor was never asked. While his verse 
 was drawing forth the eulogiums of rank 
 and valour, he was never thought of, but was 
 
shepherd's life. 37 
 
 left in his peasant garb to wander among the 
 Scottish hills in penury and ignorance. This 
 is too often the lot of the children of genius. 
 He who has studied their history, and re- 
 flected upon their labours, will have found 
 many instances similar to this. They may 
 have " made the verses," but another "takes 
 the honour." 
 
 Several amusing anecdotes in relation to 
 this particular ballad have been recorded by 
 the author, and are to be found in a volume 
 of his songs recently published in Scotland, 
 imperfectly re-published in this country. 
 
 Mr. Hogg's first prose essay was styled 
 " Reflections on a view of the Nocturnal 
 Heavens, " which was the labour of a week. 
 Of the character of this work we are not in- 
 formed. 
 
 In 1801, incited by his love of rhyming, 
 4 
 
38 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 and inspired by the example of Burns, he 
 resolved, while on a visit to Edinburgh, 
 whither he went to dispose of his sheep, to 
 publish a collection of his poems. Having", 
 however, to trust to his memory for the prin- 
 cipal part of them, he made sad work in the 
 selection, taking rather those with which he 
 was most familiar, than those which were 
 really the best. An edition of 1000 copies 
 was published, and so far, his " vanity, " as 
 Mr. Hogg says, was gratified. But the nu- 
 merous imperfections more than out-ba- 
 lanced by their annoying palpableness the 
 pleasure he otherwise received from being 
 in print. 
 
 Without friends, without patronage, the 
 Shepherd trusted his poetry to an indifferent 
 public, who most generally overlook the 
 claims to indulgence which belong to unas- 
 
shepherd's life. 39 
 
 sisted merit, in the selfish pleasure of exercis- 
 ing the right of condemnation. One of the 
 poems, "Will an' Keatie," had the usqal 
 run through the periodicals of the day, but the 
 rest were nearly forgotten, except, perhaps, by 
 the London critic, who afterwards dragged 
 forth the defective work to annoy the feel- 
 ings, if not to injure the prospects of the Bard. 
 Sir Walter Scott's first publication fared but 
 little better. 
 
 In 1802, a part of Sir Walter Scott's 
 work called the Border Minstrelsy had made 
 its appearance, and as is well known excited 
 much attention. To the third volume of this, 
 as will be seen in the anecdotes, Mr. Hogg 
 contributed, and due acknowledgements are 
 made him for his assistance. It was now 
 perceived that a body of sentiment, wit, hu- 
 mour, and poetry, lay perdu among the 
 
40 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 hills and vales, the lakes and glens of Scot- 
 land. The ambition of the Ettrick Shep- 
 herd was awakened, and though still unfor- 
 tunate in his projects, and a voluntary Exile 
 for some months from Ettrick, in conse- 
 quence of his disasters there, he set about 
 collecting, re-composing, and re-constructing 
 all the traditions and legends he could gather, 
 and the Mountain Bard made its appear- 
 ance, dedicated to the author of the Border 
 Minstrelsy. It is the opinion of many able 
 critics that there are in this volume, some 
 compositions of great merit. Mr. Allan Cun- 
 ningham in a recent essay on British litera- 
 ture, gives it as his opinion, that Oilman's 
 Clench is full of tenderness and simplicity, 
 and that Willie Wilkin, another tale in the 
 same collection, ranks with the Glenfinlas of 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 
shepherd's life. 41 
 
 " The description of the Spectre Horses," 
 is unsurpassed in any ballad. He was at the 
 time, in the service of a gentleman of Niths- 
 dale. It seems that Sir Walter approved of 
 the publication of this volume, and the Shep- 
 herd hastened to Edinburgh to avail himself 
 of his new popularity and to forward the 
 publication. 
 
 Constable at that time had no great admi- 
 ration for poetry. If his first opinions had 
 prevailed over that consciousness of merit, 
 which all literary men possess in some de- 
 gree, and which prompted Mr. Hogg to persist 
 in printing his book, we should probably have 
 heard no more of him. The publisher would 
 not touch it, unless first secured by a sub- 
 scription list of two hundred names. A list 
 of five hundred was soon procured by the au- 
 thor, and the speculation contrary to Mr. Con- 
 4* 
 
42 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 stable's calculation, turned out well. From 
 this effort of his muse, he derived a very hand- 
 some sum, and he received the same year 
 about four hundred and thirty dollars, for his 
 work on the Cultivation of Sheep. 
 
 From abject penury, he was at once ele- 
 vated to comparative independence by the pos- 
 session of three hundred pounds. But al- 
 though his publisher faithfully accounted to 
 him for his share of the receipts, many of 
 the patronising subscribers took their co- 
 pies and never paid for them. This is a 
 common practice, we fear, even to this day. 
 Intimate friends and soi-disant patrons expect 
 to receive copies of a new work as a com- 
 pliment for their good wishes, and an author 
 can at any time easity part with a whole 
 edition, and be never the better for it either 
 in fame or money. The Shepherd expe- 
 
shepherd's life. 43 
 
 nenced only the usual lot of scribbling hu- 
 manity. 
 
 Other consequences took place. The 
 possessor of the £300 almost went mad. 
 He fell into the same mistake that Burns 
 did in the hey-day of his early prosperity, 
 taking a farm beyond his ability to culti- 
 vate, and struggling for three years out of 
 one difficulty into another, until he had 
 exhausted means and credit, and even hope 
 itself. 
 
 At this turn of his affairs, the Ettrick 
 Shepherd shewed the integrity of his char- 
 acter and the strength of his fortitude. It 
 is in difficulties, whether of a pecuniary 
 or any other nature, that genius lifts itself 
 above the ordinary evils of life, sooth- 
 ed by the consciousness of power and ho- 
 nesty of purpose. Mr. Hogg freely gave 
 
44 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 up all he had to his creditors, and found 
 the consequences of his misfortunes less disa- 
 greeable in their direct bearing upon him- 
 self, than in the effect they produced upon 
 the conduct of his former friends. Return- 
 ing to Ettrick Forest, he found them unex- 
 pectedly changed. Those he once loved 
 and trusted, treated him in return with cool- 
 ness, if not contempt. His own familiars, 
 those almost of his own household, forsook 
 him, and the crime of having displayed a 
 poetic talent was visited at the hands of his 
 associates with the same rigour that other 
 lovers of the Muse have been often fated 
 to endure. 
 
 It is very singular, that after the affect- 
 ing incidents recorded in the lives of literary 
 men, and the general condemnation which 
 their persecution by ignorant or malicious 
 
shepherd's life. 45 
 
 contemporaries receives from all virtuous and 
 reflecting minds, the same ordeals are ap- 
 parently in store for all who feel the inspi- 
 ration of genius, and seek to impart its 
 fervour to mankind. The celebrated Hume 
 in the agony of mental suffering from the 
 injustice of the public, almost denied his 
 name and country. Dr. Johnson knew 
 well the pangs of disappointment, when in 
 the bitterness of his heart he exclaimed, 
 
 " Yet think what ills the scholar's life assail, 
 Toil, envy, want ; the garret, and the jail. " 
 
 But it is useless to multiply examples of 
 the sufferings of merit. They swell the 
 History of Literature in all ages, and afford 
 the melancholy proof of the existence of 
 those hateful principles which deform hu- 
 
46 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 man nature and disgust us with our own 
 species. At this moment, the dying author 
 of the Annals of the Parish, has registered 
 the sad events of his own chequered life, and 
 he informs us in pages, which like the last 
 notes of the swan are most affecting, that 
 he too has incurred the penalty of genius. — 
 persecution and poverty. The classical Dr. 
 Valpy arrested him on his arrival in Lon- 
 don from Canada, for the tuition fees of his 
 three sons, at the very moment when he was 
 battling for his rights with a soulless Land 
 Company, whose faithful, yet unrequited 
 agent he had been. Of such an act we can 
 scarcely speak too harshly. Should he ere 
 this have closed his painful toil of life, 
 
 " Around his tomb let art and genius weep, 
 
 But hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep." 
 
shepherd's life. 47 
 
 Under similar reverses the Ettrick Shep- 
 herd found his character gone. No one 
 would employ him, not even those with 
 whom he had already served, and who knew 
 his capability and efficiency. 
 
 It was then, as he informs us, " in ut- 
 ter desperation " at his prospects among his 
 native hills, he resolved to adventure his 
 stock of poetry at Edinburgh. In Feb- 
 ruary, 1810, it was that " he wrapped his 
 plaid around him, " and went to town. 
 Here new disappointments met him. He 
 found his poetic talents as little valued as his 
 capacity for managing sheep. The pub- 
 lishers turned a deaf ear to his proposals. 
 They were willing to publish on his own 
 account, but not a penny would they give 
 him or guarantee him for his productions. 
 Pressed by poverty, and yet sustained by the 
 
48 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 recollection of his former partial success, he 
 once more ventured to apply to Mr. Con- 
 stable, to print a volume for him. The pub- 
 lisher seemed to hesitate between the desire 
 of obliging and the risk of loss. It was 
 only after several interviews that he agreed 
 to print an edition of 1000 copies, at 5s. 
 each, and to share the profits with the au- 
 thor. This speculation turned out badly, as 
 it would appear, for Mr. Hogg never received 
 a farthing for his share. 
 
 The work was called the Forest Min- 
 strel, and is described by its author as con- 
 sisting of his early songs, most of them very 
 indifferent, and displaying little knowledge 
 of life or manners. Indeed, up to this period 
 he had not even known what polished so- 
 ciety was, being as he describes himself. 
 
shepherd's life. 49 
 
 '*'• only a sort of natural songster, without any- 
 other advantage upon earth." 
 
 Disappointed in the anticipations which 
 he had formed, he attempted to estab- 
 lish a weekly paper, for which, as he ad- 
 mits, he was any thing but qualified. Not 
 meeting with encouragement he grew im- 
 patient, and began to imagine booksellers 
 " the enemies of genius," and printers, the 
 tools of the booksellers. 
 
 After running about from one to the 
 other, he could not help giving them his 
 malediction, for being as he supposed, all 
 combined together against him. He re- 
 ceived ridicule from one, a subscription from 
 another, and advice, that liberal besioivment 
 of friendship, from a third. 
 
 At last a person by the name of Ro- 
 bertson, a bookseller in Nicholson-street, em- 
 
50 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 barked in the venture, and a quarto demi 
 sheet, price Ad. made its appearance in that 
 year. The history of this paper is amusing. 
 In the first place, the carrier demanded pay 
 for all the presentation copies, and this gave 
 much offence. Many persons expected to 
 obtain their papers for nothing, many more 
 never intended to pay for those they ordered, 
 and besides experiencing all this, the Editor 
 raw, or to say the least, quite devoid of tact, 
 made use of some indecorous expressions in 
 his third number, which caused the imme- 
 diate withdrawal of seventy-three subscribers ! 
 
 Nothing daunted at his misfortune, he 
 set this down to the absurd fastidiousness of 
 cockneyism, and made no change in his 
 method of expressing himself. 
 
 Another error which he himself soon per- 
 ceived, was his indulgence in the company 
 
shepherd's life. 51 
 
 of Robertson and his companions at a tip- 
 pling house, near the Cowgate, where every 
 day they drank sufficient to confuse their 
 heads, — and to convince Mr. Hogg that he 
 was going " straight to the deevil." 
 
 Acting upon a proper impulse, he broke 
 off the connexion with his publisher, made 
 a new arrangement with the Aikmans, and 
 fagged at his hebdomadal for the residue of 
 the year. Several persons of great respecta- 
 bility contributed to the columns of the 
 " Spy. " The matter furnished by the Edi- 
 tor himself amounted to eight hundred and 
 thirty quarto columns, certainly a proof of 
 great industry, if nothing else. It had reach- 
 ed the point of remuneration, according to 
 Mr. Allan Cunningham, when it was obliged 
 to yield to the opposition of those who had pre- 
 viously deserted its cause. The paper went 
 
52 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 out of print, and the author imagines that 
 five copies could not now be found in Scot- 
 land. 
 
 For the honour of human nature, and 
 as a contrast to that indifference or opposi- 
 tion in which the public indulge, to the dis- 
 comfiture and sorrow of many a sensitive 
 man of talent, the conduct of a friend of 
 Mr. Hogg, at a time when the failure of 
 his periodical, the debts it created at his 
 publisher's, and the unabated enmity of a 
 portion of his acquaintances, made him feel 
 the aggravation of want and poverty, de- 
 serves honourable notice. His name is 
 Grieve. Neither misfortune nor impru- 
 dence could shake his attachment to the 
 Shepherd Editor. Not doling out his reluc- 
 tant aid to importunity, as is the fashion with 
 too many who wish to be patrons, he anti- 
 
shepherd's life. 53 
 
 cipated the wants and foresaw the necessi- 
 ties of his distressed companion, and when 
 all else seemed cold or forgetful, watched 
 with the interest of true affection over the 
 waning fortunes of his unhappy friend. 
 
 The Shepherd retains a warm remem- 
 brance of these acts of disinterestedness, and 
 has related them in his auto-biographical 
 sketches with characteristic fervour. 
 
 The next project in which the Bard en- 
 gaged, was that of a Debating Society, in 
 which he was chosen Secretary with a salary 
 of £20 per annum, which was never paid ! 
 This society for three successive years held 
 public meetings, at which crowds constantly 
 assembled, paying for their admittance and 
 taking a deep interest in the discussions. In 
 these the Shepherd, though now somewhat 
 
 older than the majority of the members, bore 
 
 5* 
 
54 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 a conspicuous part. He was told that he 
 could not speak, and therefore should not 
 make the attempt. His self-confidence 
 brought him off with " flying colours." The 
 talent remains with him, if we may judge 
 from the reports of addresses which he has 
 since made on several public occasions. It 
 was there that he learned in the sharp contest 
 of wit and argument, and from the usual 
 expressions of approval, or disapproval, of the 
 audience, something of the public taste, if 
 not of its caprice. To his mingling in these 
 scenes, the Shepherd attributed much of 
 his subsequent improvement. He was at 
 the same time a regular visiter at the Thea- 
 tre, where he was placed upon the free list 
 by the manager, Mr. Sidclons. 
 
 He was not an inattentive spectator of 
 the literary world amidst the distraction of 
 
shepherd's life. 55 
 
 his own varying pursuits. The poetry of 
 Scott and Byron began to be popular, 
 and the Shepherd's ambition seemed to be 
 aroused. Mr. Grieve, the friend already 
 mentioned, used his influence in persuading 
 him once more to try his poetic powers. The 
 beautiful Poem of the Queen's Wake was 
 accordingly planned, and in a few months 
 executed. Even this was almost stifled at 
 its birth. It fortunately did not lie forgot- 
 ten for years like the first of the Waverley 
 Novels, because its early critic was unfavoura- 
 ble. Its story is this. It was to have been 
 read to one of the author's female friends, 
 who, with her husband, was invited to his 
 lodgings for that purpose. The opinion was 
 to have been given at that domestic tribu- 
 nal, the tea-table, where the ladies ever 
 find their auditors attentive, and their re- 
 
56 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 marks, of authority. Before the anxious 
 reader had proceeded half a page in his poem, 
 he was arrested in his progress by a doubt 
 expressed as to the proper use of a word. 
 Some one defended the author, but others 
 condemned him. Indeed the argument so 
 entirely engaged the attention of all present, 
 that the poem and the reader were quite 
 overlooked. The poet could not, with all his 
 efforts, proceed a line farther, and finding 
 himself quite out of place amidst the general 
 debate, he rolled up his manuscript and 
 openly declaring his vexation, took up his hat 
 and departed. Recalled by this to a sense of 
 their impoliteness, the critics appointed ano- 
 ther day for a meeting, and the Bard accord- 
 ingly wended his way to Buccleugh Place, 
 where the reading of the poem was to be 
 concluded. Here a laughable scene occur- 
 
shepherd's life. 57 
 
 red ending in new disappointment. The 
 husband of the lady undertook the office 
 of reader, but ere he had finished the third 
 page, he was called out of the room, by 
 the information that an itinerant Improvisa- 
 tor was rhyming in the hall. Tired of 
 waiting for his return, the poet had the al- 
 ternative either to fold up his manuscript 
 or go on with the reading to some one else 
 who happened to be in the room, but proba- 
 bly took as little interest in it as any of the 
 others. He preferred the former, and pre- 
 sently joined the audience which was now 
 collected about the wandering minstrel lis- 
 tening to, and apparently delighted with the 
 wretched doggerel of a gaberlunzie ! 
 
 Mr. Hogg's was very angry, as may be 
 well imagined, and he walked off in high 
 displeasure at this treatment. Reader, if thou 
 
58 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 hast a touch of the poetic fire, or even if 
 thou hast recently found out, that thy lu- 
 cubrations have been all thy life time em- 
 bodied in prose, and on some occasion hast 
 been tempted by thine ardour, or thy self- 
 confidence, to open thy heart to thy friend, 
 and thy manuscript to his or her examina- 
 tion, thou hast most probably felt, what, un- 
 der such circumstances, it was, " to be, to do, 
 or to suffer." Warmed by thy subject, 
 thou hast eloquently read, as an author only 
 can read his own productions, the thoughts 
 that breathed, the words that burned. In 
 the midst of some delightful passage, where 
 thy ardent spirit soared to the third heaven 
 of its happiness, thou hast heard thy listen- 
 ing friend, in the very critical moment of 
 a half-finished sentence, exclaim with a 
 yawn, " Excuse me, sir. " " John put on 
 
shepherd's life. 59 
 
 some more coals, and see what can possibly 
 be the matter with the lamp." 
 
 At such a moment, how did thy voice 
 break off into silence, thy hand pass hur- 
 riedly through thy hair, and thine eye glance 
 around to learn the reason of this most un- 
 expected interruption. The charm broken, 
 thou canst read no longer. An apology for 
 having claimed any attention from other 
 more agreeable occupations, is made by thee, 
 and thou risest from the table, resolved to 
 hang no more pearly chains around the 
 necks of such queer animals, 
 
 The Shepherd actually could not get a 
 hearing beyond the third page. Moliere's 
 old housekeeper, must have been another 
 Dacier, in comparison with those, who 
 could tire at the reading of the "Queen's 
 Wake." 
 
60 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 Mr. Hogg informs us, that he read no 
 more poems at Buccleugh Place, and cer 
 tainly no one could disapprove of his deter- 
 mination. The friend, Mr. Grieve, whose 
 name has already been mentioned, kept up 
 his confidence by assuring him that his effort 
 was a good one, and under this sanction he 
 went to see Mr. Constable with his " plan 
 of publication." He was received coldly, 
 and told to " call again, to-morrow." 
 
 On calling again, he found the pub- 
 lisher unwilling to do any thing without 
 seeing the manuscript, and having a sub- 
 scription list of 200 responsible names. This 
 being agreed to, the publisher offered £100 
 for the right to print an edition of 1000 
 cop es. The conditions were hard, and the 
 proposition was disagreeable. Still, however, 
 as Mr. Constable declared he would give no 
 
shepherd's life. 61 
 
 more, the Shepherd obtained a private sub- 
 scription through the aid of some personal 
 friends, sufficient to meet the views of the 
 publisher. 
 
 At this time a young person of the name 
 of Goldie, who also belonged to the Debat- 
 ing Club, prevailed upon the poet, somewhat 
 against his wishes, to shew him the manu- 
 script. Upon perusing it he made him an 
 offer similar to that of Mr. Constable, with 
 the addition of an allowance of the 200 sub- 
 scribers for his sole benefit ! This offer in- 
 duced the author to attempt better terms with 
 Mr. Constable, who, according to his own 
 notion, " knew how as well to sell a book 
 as buy one." But he was inexorable, and 
 having at the time a negotiation on foot 
 with Scott, which had created some tem- 
 porary excitement, he dismissed the Shepherd 
 6 
 
62 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 with a curse on the ingratitude of literary 
 men! 
 
 The work came from the press of Goldie, 
 in the early part of 1813. The circum- 
 stances attending its publication are worthy 
 of notice. They form another page in the 
 book of life, another incident in the story of 
 authorship and poetry. Almost in despair, 
 he had cast his bread upon the waters, but, 
 according to promise, he found it again before 
 many days. The poet went up to town to 
 learn the fate of his production. He saun- 
 tered about the streets, and eyed the shop 
 windows of the booksellers as he passed, to 
 see, if possible, whether it was yet on sale. 
 He beheld the title, to his great satisfaction, 
 displayed in most of them, but he had not 
 the courage to go m and ask a single ques- 
 tion. He compared himself to a " man be- 
 
shepherd's life. 63 
 
 tween life and death, waiting the sentence of 
 the jury." We can scarcely conceive any 
 thing more naive or affecting than this con- 
 fession. While hundreds were at the very 
 moment, perusing the poem with pleasure and 
 astonishment, the poor author was wander- 
 ing through the town, afraid even to inquire 
 about its reception. 
 
 At last, as he was lounging along the 
 High-street, he met a friend by the name 
 of Dunlop, whose characteristic salutation 
 the Bard has recorded. " Ye useless poetical 
 deevii that ye're. What hae ye been doing 
 a' this time? Why hae ye been pestering 
 us, ye stupid head, wi' fourpenny papers, an* 
 daft shilly shally sangs, an' blatherin' an' 
 speakin' in the forum, an' had stuff in ye 
 to produce sic a thing as this 7 " 
 
64 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 " Ay, Willie," replied the Shepherd, " ye 
 hae seen my new beuk ? " 
 
 "Ay, faith," said his friend, "that I have, 
 and it has lickit me out o' a night's sleep, 
 Ye hae hit the right nail on the head now. 
 Yon's the very thing, sir." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear ye say sae, Willie," an- 
 swered the poet, " but what do ye ken about 
 poems ? " 
 
 " Never ye mind," said Dunlop, " how 1 
 ken. I gie ye my word, yon's the thing that 
 will do. If ye had na made a fool o' your- 
 sei afore, man, yon wad hae eold better than 
 ever a beuk sold ! Wha would hae thought 
 it, that there was as muckb in that sheep's 
 head o' yours, ye stupid poetical deevil as 
 ye are." 
 
 This gave the Shepherd so much delight, 
 and withal so much confidence, that he be- 
 
SHEPHERD'S LIFE. 65 
 
 gan to walk more erectly, and, as he met his 
 acquaintances one after the other, he heard 
 little else from them, than liberal commenda- 
 tions. 
 
 The popularity of this poem seemed es- 
 tablished at once. The Eclectic Review, 
 however, attacked it, and the Edinburgh 
 was silent until the appearance of the se- 
 cond or third edition. It gave a favourable 
 notice, only when its opinions were no longer 
 of importance to the author. He mentions, 
 in his life, that nothing of his composition 
 has since been honoured with Mr. Jeffrey's 
 notice. 
 
 The reputation of the Queen's Wake 
 is now fully established. The design is 
 good, and the execution, though unequal 
 in its parts, is marked by all the characteris- 
 tics of true genius. 
 
SKETCH OF THE 
 
 The story of Kilmeny is universally ad- 
 mitted to be chaste and original, and its dic- 
 tion is exquisitely sweet and harmonious. 
 The Queen's Wake has been no less popular 
 in this country than in Great Britain. Per- 
 haps there is not a modern poem in our 
 language, which has had a greater circula- 
 tion in the United States than this. 
 
 From his dream of happiness, Mr. 
 Hogg awoke to the reality of disappoint- 
 ment. His publisher became involved in 
 the distress of many other small booksellers, 
 and after preventing by personal interference, 
 the publication of a third edition by Mr. Con- 
 stable, undertook it himself and stopped 
 payment a week afterwards. Thus the 
 money previously gained by the work 
 was lost, and all the hopes which he had 
 cherished, of being able to repair his for- 
 
shepherd's lite. 67 
 
 mer mistakes, and pay off his old debts, were 
 blighted at a breath. 
 
 It was on this occasion that he first be- 
 came acquainted with Mr. Blackwood, the 
 publisher. He was one of Goldie's assignees, 
 and his management, as well as that of his 
 associates, eventuated in the preservation of 
 the residue of the edition remaining on the 
 publisher's shelves. A considerable sum was, 
 in consequence, realized by the sale of it. 
 
 About this period, his acquaintances were 
 considerably numerous among the literary 
 characters of the town, and while with some 
 he was on terms of great intimacy, with 
 most he practised a reserve, which prevented 
 them from considering his intercourse pre- 
 suming or troublesome. 
 
 If it were germane to the pubject, we 
 could here relate some curious circumstances 
 
6& SKETCH OF THE 
 
 under which his friendship commenced with 
 Mr. Wilson, the author of the Isle of Palms, 
 and the present Editor of Blackwood's Maga- 
 zine. One remark in relation to it, we 
 must not omit, since it refers to Sir Walter 
 Scott. Mr. Hogg intimates that through him 
 he might have been easily made acquainted 
 with Mr. Wilson, although Mr. Scott rarely 
 introduced any one person to another, or judg- 
 ed it of any avail. 
 
 Such was the popularity of the Queen's 
 Wake, that a fourth edition was published by 
 Messrs. Murray and Blackwood, but it pro- 
 duced no solid returns. A fifth, a beautiful 
 specimen of typography succeeded better. 
 Of this poem, which, as we have already 
 stated, has been scarcely less admired in 
 America than in Great Britain, the author 
 appears not to have had a high opinion. 
 
shepherd's life. 69 
 
 He considered it as a device merely to string 
 together a series of ballads, which were 
 not equal in merit, nor interesting in their 
 design. The public have judged otherwise, 
 and in his country the editions are entirely 
 exhausted. Moore is supposed to have 
 taken his idea of Lalla Rookh, which ap- 
 peared in 1817, from the Q,ueen's Wake. 
 There is certainly a strong resemblance in 
 the plan. During one of Mr. Hogg's tours 
 in the Highlands, which, about this period of 
 his life, he was accustomed every summer 
 to make, he became an inmate of Kinnaird 
 House, in Athol. The fair mistress of the 
 mansion, Mrs. Chalmers Izett, introduced him 
 into a small study, where books and writing 
 materials were placed before him, with a re- 
 quest that he would consider himself at home 
 and amuse himself as he thought proper. On 
 
70 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 accepting the offer, he asked the lady for a 
 subject, and she gave him the "majestic 
 river rolling beneath his eyes." 
 
 Inspired as it would seem by the occa- 
 sion and the request, he stole time enough 
 from his fishing excursions to write Madoc 
 of the Moor. This, although a favourite with 
 the author, for the descriptions of nature 
 which it contains, has never acquired the 
 popularity which attended the " Queen's 
 Wake." We imagine it is quite worthy of 
 the preference he entertained for it. The 
 measure, that of Spenser, it must be consi- 
 dered, is difficult, and when the subject itself 
 is of a grave character, it falls heavily on the 
 ear, and conveys its ideas slowly to the mind. 
 The Shepherd, after an animated discussion 
 with his lady patroness, took the Tay for 
 his subject, and commenced the Poem. 
 
shepherd's life. 71 
 
 Not only are the descriptions generally 
 well written, but there are occasional pas- 
 sages truly exquisite. We select the follow- 
 ing at hazard, as a specimen. 
 
 When summer suns around the zenith glow, 
 
 Nature is gaudy, frolicsome, and boon . 
 
 But when September breezes cease to blow, 
 
 And twilight steals beneath the broaden'd moon, 
 
 How changed the scene ! the years resplendent noon, 
 
 Is long gone past, and all is mildly still ! 
 
 Sedateness settles on the hill and doone, 
 
 Wan is the flow'ret by the mountain rill, 
 
 And a pale boding look, sits solemn on the hill. 
 
 In the same year, he conceived the no- 
 tion of writing a poetical volume of a ro- 
 mantic character, to be entitled Mid Sum- 
 mer Night Dreams. A friend appealed to 
 for his opinion in the matter, advised against 
 
72 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 the scheme, and it fell through. u Con- 
 nel of Dee," one of the series, has since made 
 its appearance as a part of the " Winter 
 Evening Tales." 
 
 Another literary effort of the author's dur- 
 ing the same year, was the Pilgrims of 
 the Sun, published in consequence of the 
 good opinion entertained of it, by the same 
 person who advised against the " Midsum- 
 mer Night Dreams." 
 
 Mr. Hogg frankly declares, that in those 
 who praised his works he placed implicit con- 
 fidence, and for those who did otherwise, he 
 entertained very little regard ! A prompting 
 of nature, which every author feels to be a 
 part of his own indwelling fancies. 
 
 In bringing out this poem, there oc- 
 curred the usual difficulties of negotiation 
 with the publishers. By the advice of Mr. 
 
shepherd's life. 73 
 
 Constable, who evaded the risk and trouble of 
 the publication, the manuscript was put into 
 the hands of Mr. Miller, and a regular con- 
 tract was made with him for its appearance 
 from the press within two months, and in 
 conformity with the stipulations made by 
 the parties respectively. 
 
 Mr. Miller, however, thought proper to 
 change his mind ; and on Mr. Hogg's re- 
 quiring him to proceed with the work, or re- 
 turn the manuscript, he very promptly avail- 
 ed himself of the latter alternative, and thus 
 rid himself at once of his responsibility. 
 
 The manuscript was afterwards placed in 
 the hands of Mr. Murray, the London book- 
 seller, who suddenly became as doubtful of 
 its success as Mr. Miller had been. He 
 would not allow his name to appear upon the 
 
 title-page. The Author contented himself 
 
 7 
 
74 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 with the retaliatory assertion, that Murray and 
 his advisers could not write as well, and 
 with this remark, he informs us, he pleased 
 himself, and overlooked the affront. 
 
 When the Poem came out, it was well 
 received by the public ; yet, though it was 
 praised in the Reviews, and a very large edi- 
 tion of it was sold in America, it loaded the 
 booksellers' shelves in Great Britain, and may 
 possibly do so yet. 
 
 It was evidently very little of a favourite 
 with the Trade, and, from the circumstance 
 of Mr. Murray's not allowing his name to be 
 connected with it, was liable to be received by 
 them with great distrust and suspicion. This 
 is one of the secrets of publication, which by 
 this time Mr. Hogg must have fully dis- 
 covered. 
 
 The Pilgrims of the Sun is a wonderful 
 
shepherd's life. 75 
 
 effort of the imagination. It is in Poetry, 
 what one of Martin's productions is in Paint- 
 ing. It has illimitable perspective, vast out- 
 lines, and a sublime effect. There is even 
 something Miltonic in the grandeur of the 
 description of other worlds, and certainly 
 there can be nothing more sweet and touch- 
 ing than the return of the Pilgrim to her 
 home and her mother. 
 
 His next literary adventure was of a dif- 
 ferent character. He proposed editing a vo- 
 lume of Poetry, to consist of original compo- 
 sitions from the pens of the most distinguish- 
 ed authors of the country, and he applied to 
 them individually for their assistance in his 
 scheme. From Southey and Wordsworth he 
 obtained poems of superior excellence ; — from 
 Byron and Rodgers, although he had their 
 promises, he received nothing. In his account 
 
76 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 of this project, he mentions his ignorance of 
 the cause of Lord Byron's conduct. 
 
 In the Life of the noble bard, his biogra- 
 pher, Moore, avows he dissuaded him 
 from the performance of his engagement, 
 out of regard to his interests. The poem 
 intended for Mr. Hogg was the celebrated 
 Lara; and its author thought well of the 
 plan of which it was to be a part, and which 
 he compared to a similar one of Dodsley's 
 which had proved successful. 
 
 It appears from the published letters of 
 Lord Byron, that he esteemed the Shepherd 
 highly, and recommended him to Mr. Mur- 
 ray. A correspondence of some length took 
 place between them, of which Mr. Hogg has 
 spoken with great animation. 
 
 Mr. Hogg mentions that one letter, and the 
 last, was written to him by Lord Byron, after 
 
shepherd's life. 77 
 
 the birth of his daughter Ada ; and in that, 
 his affection for his wife and daughter was 
 very evident. The Shepherd complains 
 that these valued testimonials have been 
 taken from him by visiters, without his 
 knowledge or approbation. 
 
 The refusal of Scott to contribute any 
 thing to the proposed volume overthrew the 
 whole design. It was in vain the Shepherd 
 reminded him of his services, in adding to the 
 treasures of the Border Minstrelsy. The 
 appeal was fruitless, and the result an 
 estrangement of the two Bards. In the 
 forthcoming Life of Sir Walter by Mr. Lock- 
 hart, the mystery of the refusal may be un- 
 ravelled. 
 
 The Shepherd resented his conduct warm- 
 ly, and candidly admits that he addressed him 
 
 a letter couched in very intemperate language, 
 
 7* 
 
78 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 and for a long time refused to speak to him. 
 Under the influence of these feelings, he re- 
 solved to outdo even his contributors, by an 
 imitation of their various styles, to be collect- 
 ed in a work to be called the Poetic Mirror. 
 So complete was the deception, that one of 
 the poems, which was read aloud by Mr. 
 Ballantyne at a dinner party, was unani- 
 mously pronounced to be an original produc- 
 tion of Lord Byron. 
 
 The work was composed in three weeks, 
 and published in three months afterwards. 
 The first edition sold in six weeks, and an- 
 other has since been exhausted. It was 
 produced anonymously, and but for a bung- 
 ling imitation of Wordsworth, might, as the 
 Poet imagines, have passed for a genuine 
 work. 
 
 During the next year, he attempted some 
 
shepherd's life. 79 
 
 dramatic compositions, as almost all literary 
 men, at one time or other, have done. There 
 is a fascination in the Drama, which has spell- 
 bound, even the learned professions. Theo- 
 logians and law3 T ers, as well as poets, have 
 attempted, and some with great success, to 
 hold its " mirror up to nature." 
 
 None of Mr. Hogg's plays have been per- 
 formed, and the want of interest they possess- 
 ed induced him to give up this species of com- 
 position. A curious change in his literary 
 views took place about this time. Mortified 
 most probably at the want of success with 
 which his poetic efforts had been rewarded, 
 he resolved to give up poetry for prose ; and, 
 " save an idle story or two," and the finishing 
 of a poem in hand, Q,ueen Hynde, he ad- 
 hered to his determination. 
 
 Queen Hynde received the approbation 
 
80 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 of Sir Walter Scott and many other judicious 
 critics ; but, though a large edition was sold, 
 it did not take with the public, much to the 
 Author's surprise. The subject was local, 
 and the time of its action was laid as far back 
 as the incursions of the Danes. At a dinner, 
 given to him by some of his admirers in 
 Scotland, a warm dispute arose as to the merits 
 of this poem and the Queen's Wake ; and 
 the Poet, in the zeal of his preference for the 
 former, offered to back his opinions with a bet 
 of the whole edition ! 
 
 It was at this time, the project for the esta- 
 blishment of the Magazine, since known as 
 Blackwood's, was first talked of by Mr. Hogg. 
 He has given a very amusing account of the 
 intrigues attending it, the jealousies of the 
 rival editors, and the fears of contending pub- 
 lishers. " The Chaldee Manuscript " arose 
 
 . 
 
shepherd's life. 81 
 
 out of the circumstance ; the composition of 
 which, though formerly in doubt, is now ad- 
 mitted to be his. It caused a great sensation 
 in Edinburgh at the time. The subsequent 
 connexion of Mr. Hogg with the Magazine, 
 did every thing to establish its fame and in- 
 crease its value. 
 
 The next work of his production, 
 was the Brownie of Bodsbeck, brought 
 out after Old Mortality, though written pre- 
 viously. In consequence of the delay of pub- 
 lication, which was owing to Mr. Blackwood, 
 it was pronounced an imitation of Sir Walter 
 Scott's work ; whereas, in fact, it was a com- 
 position of an earlier date. In this the Shep- 
 herd was again unfortunate. 
 
 Mr. Hogg, in his reference to these impu- 
 tations of want of originality, asserts that he 
 has found publishers not trust-worthy in these 
 
82 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 matters ; because they do not read the manu- 
 script themselves, but adopt the opinions of 
 some one in their employment, who is paid 
 for his services as a critic. 
 
 Publishers are certainly justifiable in pro- 
 tecting themselves from risk by taking advice, 
 for in most instances, the public taste cannot 
 be divined ; and the manuscript approved in 
 private, often falls short of its imagined popu- 
 larity when it has left the press. All adven- 
 turers in literature have this difficulty to over- 
 come ; but Mr. Hogg attributed his multiform 
 casualties not only to the want of judgment 
 in the publishers themselves, but to the influ- 
 ence of the aristocracy upon those publishers. 
 " For my own part, I know that I have al- 
 ways been looked on by the learned part of 
 the community as an intruder in the paths of 
 literature, and every opprobrium has been 
 
shepherd's life. 83 
 
 thrown on me from that quarter. The walks 
 of learning are occupied by a powerful aristo- 
 cracy, who deem that province their peculiar 
 right, else what would avail them all their 
 dear-bought collegiate honours and degrees 1 
 No wonder they should view an intruder from 
 the humble and despised ranks of the com- 
 munity with a jealous and indignant eye, and 
 impede his progress by every means in their 
 power." This idea may, in some measure, 
 have arisen from the difficulties which beset 
 his early path. We are informed, that Mr. 
 Hogg has latterly been much caressed in the 
 circles of which he was once so suspicious. 
 The caprice of the fashionable world is greater 
 however than its respect for talent. The 
 treatment of Burns might have been in his 
 mind's eye at the moment he wrote the 
 sentences we have quoted. 
 
84 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 It is well known, that, during the height 
 of his popularity, the Duchess of Gordon took 
 his arm at a fashionable assembly, and dis- 
 tinguished him by a marked attention. It 
 was not long, however, or ere his shoes were 
 old, before he found the poet forgotten in the 
 ploughman, and his fashionable friends turn- 
 ing away their eyes from him, as he passed, 
 lest he might claim the recognition they were 
 once anxious to offer. 
 
 The Shepherd, if he has not discovered the 
 keen sensibilities of the unhappy Burns, has 
 been blessed with a temperament more reso- 
 lute and unyielding. Reposing upon the con- 
 sciousness of integrity, and having a bold and 
 manly spirit, he seems to have sustained him- 
 self under vicissitudes which broke the heart 
 of Burns. 
 
 The neglect of the aristocracy, however 
 
shepherd's life. 85 
 
 marked, never affected the Shepherd's tran- 
 quillity to any great degree ; and the very in- 
 dependence of his manner had the effect to 
 retain the friendship of that portion of it 
 which was worth possessing. 
 
 Mr. Hogg's love of conviviality was not 
 without its bad consequences. In the instance 
 we are to relate, however, it led to a reconcilia- 
 tion with Sir Walter Scott. He relates of him- 
 self, that, in consequence of the dissipation pre- 
 valent among the members of a curious club, 
 called the "Right and Wrong" (from a rule 
 of the society, that, whatever any member 
 said should be supported by the others, no 
 matter whether "right or wrong,") he became 
 very ill, and was for three weeks under the 
 hands of Dr. Saunders. Sir Walter, notwith- 
 standing the warm language and avowed hos- 
 tility of the Shepherd, and the interruption 
 8 
 
86 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 of all intercourse for a twelve-month previous, 
 made daily inquiries after his health. He also 
 requested that he might have the best medical 
 advice in Edinburgh, without regard to the 
 expense, which he would himself willingly 
 incur. And this, too, was accompanied by 
 the condition, that the invalid should not, on 
 any account, be informed of the circum- 
 stances. This kind and considerate conduct 
 was accidentally discovered some months 
 afterwards, by the convalescent, and it went 
 straight to the heart of the grateful man. He 
 immediately addressed an apologetical letter to 
 his estranged friend, in which the whole soul 
 of. the writer was poured forth in apologies 
 and regrets. The next day it was replied to in 
 the shape of an invitation to breakfast, which 
 was willingly accepted. In a walk which they 
 took together the same day, the Shepherd en- 
 
shepherd's life. 87 
 
 deavoured to introduce the subject of their 
 differences, but Sir Walter adroitly parried 
 every attempt to give the subject a re-considera- 
 tion. He wished by-ganes to be by-ganes, and 
 it is an inference of Mr. Hogg's, — now all is 
 forgiven and forgotten, that no unfriendly 
 feeling actuated the refusal to contribute to the 
 Poetic Mirror. 
 
 Mr. Hogg has recorded an anecdote of a 
 quarrel with Mr. Wilson, which had a similar 
 termination, from the magnanimity of his 
 opponent. Mr. Wilson criticized a poem of 
 his, called the "Field of Waterloo," with a 
 degree of severity which threw its author into 
 a violent rage. He wrote the critic a most 
 irritating letter, to which he received a reply, 
 that was both an explanation and apology. 
 This melted the heart of the Shepherd, and 
 has induced him since to overlook the play- 
 
SO SKETCH OF THE 
 
 fulness, or mischievousness, of many liberties 
 which the same person has since taken with 
 his name. Poems, letters, and essays, and 
 indeed many of the far-famed Noctes of 
 Blackwood, have, doubtless, been 'palmed off 
 successfully as Mr. Hogg's productions, by the 
 author of the Isle of Palms. 
 
 Mr. Hogg informs us, that his next literary 
 undertaking, was the Jacobite Relics of Scot- 
 land. The cause of the Stuarts, it is well 
 known, went hand in hand with wild ro- 
 mance. The attachment of the Scottish 
 people to that family, survived two bloody 
 conflicts, and the passionate loyalty which 
 the clans displayed for a great number of 
 years, was only put down by the severity of 
 sanguinary laws,. It is very certain, if we may 
 believe the secret histories of the times, that 
 the Hanoverians, on coming to the throne of 
 
shepherd's life. 89 
 
 England, displayed as much selfishness, and 
 as great a disregard to morality, as the weak- 
 minded Stuarts themselves. The " Jacobite 
 Muse" was not slow in perceiving their errors, 
 and the satire and point of the Scottish songs 
 were keenly felt by the individuals at whom 
 they were aimed. 
 
 The popularity of these productions has con- 
 tinued to the present time ; and, indeed, if the 
 language of the heart is any where to be dis- 
 covered, — if pathos and passion, — if truth and 
 natural feeling are embodied in any poetry, they 
 are so in these relics of the Scottish Minstrelsy. 
 
 There is a nationality about the Scotch, 
 which has always had an influence in their 
 preservation, and, perhaps, among the collect- 
 ors of these memorials, none has exceeded our 
 author in zeal. We believe we hazard no- 
 thing in saying, that few have entered into 
 8* 
 
90 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 the subject with more feeling, or obtained 
 more signal success. He took great pains to 
 gather every fragment, and to collect every 
 fact relating to the subject, and often, in his 
 researches, encountered the opposition, and 
 brought upon himself the suspicions, of the 
 Highlanders themselves. 
 
 He has recorded several anecdotes, illus- 
 trative of this peculiarity. When he told them 
 he was gathering up old songs, they would 
 reply to him, " Ohon, mon, you surely haif 
 had very less to do at home, and so you want 
 to get some of the songs of the poor repellion- 
 ers from me, and then you will gie me up to 
 King Shorge, to be hanged ! Hoo, no, that 
 will never do, mon !" 
 
 Of the work itself, we can only say, that it 
 has taken high rank among the other collec- 
 tions of the day, and no one pretends to investi- 
 
shepherd's life. 91 
 
 gate the merits of the Jacobite Minstrels, with- 
 out examining the specimens obtained by Mr. 
 Hogg. It was about the same time that the 
 Winter Evening Tales made their appearance. 
 The publishers were Oliver & Boyd. It is be- 
 lieved that this collection was chiefly the com- 
 position of his early years, which will, in the au- 
 thor's opinion, account for their "blunt rustici- 
 ty." Some objections have been taken to them 
 on account of an occasional indelicacy which 
 has been permitted to creep into the text.* 
 
 The author asserts that he attempted to 
 describe things as they were, without intend- 
 ing any thing ill, and he prays to be forgiven 
 by " God and man," for every word he may 
 have written " injurious to religion and vir- 
 tue." With such a disclaimer, even the most 
 
 * The Bridal of Polmood, a very interesting and ori- 
 ginal tale, has been objected to, on this account. 
 
92 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 fastidious must be satisfied. The tales them- 
 selves are productions of merit. The Shep- 
 herd's Calendar is a beautiful picture of the 
 incidents of a shepherd's employment. The 
 story of the Long Pack is universally popular, 
 and had a circulation in the United States 
 quite unprecedented. It was reprinted in 
 newspapers and magazines, and was the prin- 
 cipal treasure of the almanacks of the day. 
 
 To foreign readers, it may net be amiss 
 to mention, that, in no country in the world, 
 is there such a quantity of almanacks annual- 
 ly sold as in the United States. The Long 
 Pack gave interest to some of these. 
 
 The American edition of the Tales is 
 supposed to be almost out of print. 
 
 In the same year of the publication of 
 this work, the Shepherd, tired of his bache- 
 lor's life, married the youngest daughter of 
 
shepherd's life. 93 
 
 Mr. Phillips, of Longbridge Moor, Annandale. 
 She is still living, and has proved the Poet's 
 best solace in his hours of despondency. His 
 cottage on the " Altrive Lake V now truly be- 
 came his home, and here he has since con- 
 stantly resided. 
 
 His farm, which is known by that name, 
 was given him in 1814, by the Duke of Buc- 
 cleugh, (a descendant of the Scotts of Har- 
 den,) at a time when he was without a place 
 that he could call his own, and while, like 
 Burns, he was alternately experiencing in 
 the metropolis, the gales of success and dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 The Shepherd found himself unnoticed 
 by the mass of the aristocracy, but one of its 
 proudest ornaments, the Duchess of Buc- 
 cleugh, had observed with attention the pro- 
 gress of his labours. This lady, who was of 
 
94 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 the Townshend family, on which was con- 
 ferred, in 1783, the title of Sydney, had 
 made it a particular request, that some fitting 
 residence on the family estates in Dum- 
 friesshire, should be conferred on Mr. Hogg", 
 as a tribute to his talents and worth. On 
 her death in 1814, her wishes appear to 
 have excited the generous impulses of her 
 husband's heart, and in a long letter to the 
 Shepherd, he informed him of the regard 
 entertained for him by the late Duchess, and 
 his ready compliance with her wishes. The 
 farm already mentioned was in this manner 
 bestowed, the rent being made merely nomi- 
 nal, and here the poet was enabled, as he often 
 congratulated himself upon his ability to do so, 
 to shelter the grey head of his father, "among 
 his native moors and streams, where each 
 face was that of a friend, and every house 
 
shepherd's life. 95 
 
 was a home." Of these two benefactors 
 the poet ever speaks with gratitude, and 
 in the society of the Duke of Buccleugh 
 he often found happiness and gathered 
 hope. It appears that the death of his 
 benefactress was soon followed by that of his 
 benefactor, whom the sufferings of "a discon- 
 solate heart " brought to an early grave. 
 
 It appears that the later success of his 
 literary efforts, induced the Shepherd to run 
 some new risks in his agricultural pursuits. 
 Ascertaining, after his marriage, that he had 
 about 1000J. due from his different publishers, 
 he resolved to try farming on a large scale, 
 and accordingly took a farm adjoining his 
 own. The place had already ruined the two 
 previous tenants, but confidence in his ability 
 to resort to his pen in case of ^necessity, in- 
 duced him to make the experiment. 
 
6 
 
 96 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 The arrangement required a considerable 
 outlay, as the farm, according to the calcula- 
 tions of Scottish husbandly, was to be stocked 
 with one thousand sheep, twenty cows, and 
 five horses ; besides which a large expenditure 
 was to be made for fencing, draining, manur- 
 ing, labourers' utensils, and suitable buildings. 
 
 Indeed, the expense would have been 
 considered an insuperable objection to most 
 American farmers, under similar chcum- 
 stances. The Shepherd, bold and fearless, 
 ventured upon the trial. But, notwithstand- 
 ing the return from the farm and the gain of 
 upwards of $4000 by his writings in the next 
 two years, he fell into difficulties, which, 
 in the end, left him in a worse situation than 
 when he began ; and, at the age of sixty, 
 when his lease of the second farm terminated, 
 he was without six-pence in the world. His 
 
shepherd's life. 97 
 
 :s amou 
 
 losses amounted to $10,000, but he bore them 
 with philosophy. The deficiency arising 
 from his farm speculations, and which he be- 
 gan to feel in 1822, induced him once more 
 to try his fortune as a writer. In a few 
 months, he finished a work familiar to many 
 of my readers, called "The Three Perils of 
 Man : War, Women, and Witchcraft." 
 Messrs. Longman & Co. printed it for him, 
 and he realized about $750 for the edition 
 of one thousand copies. 
 
 Of this production the Author speaks 
 more harshly than even the critics, — " Im- 
 patient to get hold of some of Messrs. Long- 
 man & Co.'s money or bills, I dashed on. 
 and mixed up, with what might have made 
 one of the best historical tales our country 
 ever produced, such a mass of diablerie as 
 9 
 
98 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 ,*• 
 
 retarded the main story and made the whole 
 perfectly ludicrous." 
 
 The next year he published " The Three 
 Perils of Women," which produced him 
 the same sum of money. This, in his 
 opinion, possessed " absurdity as well as 
 pathos." 
 
 " I was then." says Mr. Hogg, " writing 
 as if in desperation, but I now see matters in 
 a different light." This is a common feeling 
 when we bring a cool dispassionate judgment 
 to bear upon our previous efforts made under 
 any excitement ; but we imagine the con- 
 demnation of the work in question leans to 
 the extreme of severity. 
 
 In 1824, he published anonymously, a 
 book full of "horrors," called "Confessions 
 of a Sinner." Jt sold tolerably well, but 
 never produced any thing to the Author. 
 
shepherd's life. 99 
 
 A previous work, in one volume, with 
 which we have no acquaintance, from the 
 same publishers, had no better fate. They 
 were, however, offered a third, called " Lives 
 of Eminent Men," which they refused, be- 
 cause the former works had been censured. 
 With all due regard to our esteemed Bard, 
 we should suppose this last was an under- 
 taking, to which, considering the turmoil 
 of his life, he could scarcely have brought 
 the necessary research. It is not necessary 
 here to enlarge upon the pecuniary transac- 
 tions connected with these publications. 
 
 The failure of the " Queen Hynde," as 
 we have already mentioned, so discouraged 
 him, that he resolved never again to attempt 
 a long poem, and he continued for many 
 years afterwards to write shorter pieces. 
 
100 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 which have been the gems of Blackwood and 
 of other magazines and annuals. 
 
 Among these was a poetical Masque, con- 
 taining many fine songs, written during the 
 visit of George IV. to. Scotland, which was 
 published by Blackwood, and for which the 
 only return the Author received was the 
 thanks of the King, in a note from Sir Robert 
 Peel Amid the embarrassments resulting 
 from his accumulated losses, he was relieved 
 to the amount of $1000 by the publication of 
 an edition of his best poems, in four volumes, 
 by Messrs. Constable & Co. 
 
 Blackwood, according to the Shepherd's 
 account, had driven him almost "beyond the 
 bounds of human patience." Besides having 
 been narrow and contracted in his dealings, 
 he has misrepresented him in his magazine. 
 No longer a contributor where he had been a 
 
shepherd's life. 101 
 
 founder, he complains that his sentiments 
 have been caricatured, and his words mis- 
 quoted. The American reader of Blackwood 
 must have noticed in the celebrated articles 
 called The Noctes, that the Shepherd has 
 often appeared there as a very singular cha- 
 racter, and we have not a single doubt that 
 his boldness of opinion has often been dis- 
 torted into whimsicality, and indifference to 
 propriety. 
 
 Of this publisher he says, " I have often 
 been urged to restrain and humble him by 
 legal measures, as an incorrigible offender 
 deserves. I know I have it in my power, 
 and if he dares me to the task, I want but a 
 hair to make a tether of? That all this is 
 not said without provocation, may be inferred 
 from an observation in an article of the 
 
 Quarterly Review, and we cannot help 
 9* 
 
102 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 quoting it in this place as irrefragable proof 
 of the Shepherd's just cause of complaint. 
 
 " A more worthy, modest, sober, and loyal 
 mail does not exist in his Majesty's do- 
 minions, than this distinguished poet, whom 
 sopae of his waggish friends have taken up 
 the idea of exhibiting in print as a sort of 
 boozing buffoon, and who is now, instead of 
 revelling in the license of tavern suppers and 
 party politics, bearing up as he may, against 
 severe and unmerited misfortunes, in as 
 dreary a solitude as ever nursed the melan- 
 choly of a poetical temperament." 
 
 In 1829, Mr. Hogg proposed the publica- 
 tion of a series of Tales, to be called the 
 Altrive Tales, from the name of his residence. 
 A series of negotiations with Mr. Blackwood 
 for their publication ended unsuccessfully, and 
 with this result, souring him against the Bail- 
 
shepherd's life. 103 
 
 lie, he went to London and secured the publi- 
 cation of the first volume there. Cochrane & 
 Co. brought it out, in 1832, in a very hand- 
 some form. The plan was to publish twelve 
 volumes of Tales collected among the Scot- 
 tish Peasantry, and the Author considers the 
 projected work as a probable inheritance for 
 his children, if not a legacy to his country. 
 Mr. Hogg's visit to London was, we be- 
 lieve, on the whole unfortunate. His pub- 
 lishers failed, and he was driven to the 
 necessity of throwing himself upon the kind- 
 ness of his literary friends for temporary as- 
 sistance. We are not certaiu whether this 
 visit to London was made before or after the 
 failure of Mr. Cochrane. Be that as it may, 
 the Shepherd was, for the time, the theme of 
 the newspapers, and a favoured visitant in 
 the houses of the great. He was the princi- 
 
104 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 pal attraction at a literary festival given at 
 Free Mason's Hall, in honour of Burns, 
 and was toasted and complimented in the 
 most nattering manner. Sir John Malcolm, 
 the author of several important works, 
 particularly a History of Central India, pre- 
 sided, having the Ettrick Shepherd on his 
 right hand, and the two sons of Burns on his 
 left. On the Shepherd's health being given, 
 he returned his acknowledgments in a cha- 
 racteristic address, and related many anec- 
 dotes connected with his own life, one of 
 which we have already mentioned. 
 
 We believe that he has since published 
 another edition of the Queen's Wake, and a 
 volume of Poems, called the Queer Book. 
 
 The nobility subscribed liberally, and one 
 hundred pounds were transmitted him to 
 relieve his immediate embarrassments. Since 
 
shepherd's life. 
 
 105 
 
 that period his literary efforts have been of 
 a miscellaneous character, although there 
 can be no doubt that he has been engaged 
 in the continuation of the Altrive Tales, 
 if not of other works of a different stamp. 
 He still resides at Altrive. In its neigh- 
 bourhood the population is thin, and the 
 land not very fertile. His house is neat and 
 comfortable, without being large. Its situa- 
 tion is picturesque, and it is surrounded with 
 all the temptations which the angler and 
 fowler find so irresistible. 
 
 A trout brook runs past the door, and the 
 Yarrow and St. Mary's Loch are not far 
 distant. Inside, the quick eye and ready hand 
 of Mrs. Hogg are evident in the neatness of 
 the arrangements ; while a select library, 
 various pieces of plate, and sporting utensils 
 
106 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 of different kinds, the gifts of friends, natu- 
 rally attract the attention of visitors. 
 
 He is exceedingly fond of fishing and of 
 the athletic sports still popular in Scotland, 
 and never fails to give a hearty welcome to 
 those who break in upon his retreat. 
 
 The following is a list of his works, as 
 far as we have been able to ascertain them. 
 
 The Queen's Wake. 
 
 Pilgrims of the Sun. 
 
 The Hunting of Badlewe. 
 
 Madoc of the Moor. 
 
 Poetic Mirror. 
 
 Dramatic Tales. 
 
 Brownie of Bodsbeck. 
 
 Winter Evening Tales. 
 
 Sacred Melodies. 
 
 Border Garland. 
 
 Jacobite Relics of Scotland. 
 
 i 
 
shepherd's life. 107 
 
 The Spy. 
 
 Queen Hynde. 
 
 The Three Perils of Man. 
 
 The Three Perils of Woman. 
 
 Confessions of a Sinner. 
 
 The Shepherd's Calendar. 
 
 A Selection of Songs. 
 
 The Queer Book. 
 
 The Royal Jubilee. 
 
 The Mountain Bard. 
 
 The Forest Minstrel. 
 
 The Altrive Tales. 
 
 The particular circumstances which have 
 occasioned the publication of the present 
 work in this country, the accompanying 
 familiar Anecdotes of Sir Walter Scott, are 
 perhaps not unworthy a place in this notice 
 of their author. 
 
 It was well known to some of the friends 
 
108 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 of this gifted Bard, that, notwithstanding his 
 untiring industry, he was still unfortunate, 
 and that the Res angusta domi was still 
 pressing upon him with undeserved severity. 
 It was a natural wish, therefore, to aid him 
 in his attempts to conquer his fate, and offers, 
 that may be termed liberal, were made, in 
 order to induce him to come before the 
 American public, as a contributor to an 
 established periodical. The popularity of 
 his writings, made his literary aid desirable. 
 Large editions of his principal works had 
 been sold in this country, and most of them 
 are now out of print. It was but a few days 
 since, that the writer of the Sketch, was in a 
 well-known book-store, when a plainly dress- 
 ed countryman came in, and inquired if 
 the Brownie of Bodsbeck was on sale there. 
 On being informed that there was not a 
 
shepherd's life. 109 
 
 single copy to be had, he expressed his 
 surprise and remarked that where he lived, 
 he could sell eighty copies if he had them. 
 
 In reply to the propositions made the 
 Shepherd, of the friendly character alluded to, 
 a communication was received of a very 
 interesting nature. 
 
 In a letter dated the 7th March last, he 
 
 expressed himself in these words. " I am 
 
 most proud of being valued so highly by my 
 
 transatlantic brethren, it unluckily happens, 
 
 that the older I grow, and the more unfit for 
 
 mental exertion, the more it is required. I 
 
 published, the last spring, the Altrive Tales, 
 
 and in summer, the Queer Book. If the 
 
 latter has not yet found its way to any of the 
 
 presses of the States, it might be of some 
 
 value to you, as all my best ballads, both 
 
 humorous and pathetic, are included ; but 
 10 
 
110 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 a few of them have appeared in Black- 
 wood. 
 
 " I am, likewise, engaged to commence a 
 series of tales in November, which will run 
 from ten to twelve volumes. Fop though I 
 was a poor shepherd more than half a cen- 
 tury ago, I have still got no farther than a 
 poor shepherd to this day." 
 
 The same letter contained a proposition to 
 transfer the copy-right of all his English pub- 
 lications, as they came out. But this, by the 
 copy-right law of the United States, was im- 
 practicable. Our laws have hitherto shut 
 out the productions of foreign writers from a 
 participation with our own in the advantages 
 of American publication. And although it 
 was thus, probably, intended to place the pro- 
 duct of the brain on the same footing with 
 that of the hand, the necessities were dis- 
 
shepherd's Life. Ill 
 
 similar. In mechanical inventions the En- 
 glish had the advantage, and in that, protec- 
 tion placed us somewhat nearer in the com- 
 mon results. But in the products of the brain, 
 natural talent and native genius were fully 
 able to take care of themselves, under ordi- 
 nary competition. 
 
 Mr. Hogg was, of course, informed of the 
 difficulties in the way, in consequence of the 
 discrimination by our law between the pro- 
 ductions of foreigners and native citizens. 
 
 A letter was subsequently received from 
 him, and with it came the manuscript of the 
 Familiar Anecdotes. 
 
 If we are not mistaken, they were in- 
 tended for the personal examination of Sir 
 Walter Scott's son-in-law, Mr. Lockhart, 
 who has announced a forthcoming Life of 
 the Author of Waverley. Whether this 
 
112 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 gentleman considered the Anecdotes an in- 
 terference with his own work, or as being of 
 too familiar a cast, we do not know, but they 
 were withdrawn by the Shepherd, and imme- 
 diately transmitted to America. 
 
 The letter authorizing their publication 
 here, contained these words : — " They are, 
 therefore, wholly yours ; unappropriated, and 
 your own. Publish them in what shape or 
 form, or in as many shapes and forms as 
 you like." 
 
 The Editor, in accepting them as unre- 
 servedly as they were bestowed, did so with 
 the hope of turning their publication to the 
 account of the Author. It was deemed 
 advisable to prefix to them a short notice of 
 the Shepherd, imperfect though it be, both 
 as a just tribute to his extraordinary talent r 
 and as an instructive lesson to those who 
 
shepherd's life. 
 
 113 
 
 possess the gifts of nature, unassisted by birth 
 and education. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott has elaborately attempt- 
 ed to show, that his birth and family, of 
 themselves, entitled him to the favourable no- 
 tice of the world, and, in tracing back his 
 pedigree to the Scotts of Harden, furnished, 
 as he imagined, conclusive testimony of his 
 claims. In this, we imagine, he has shown 
 a slight weakness of character, since, if we 
 take from him his reputation as the author of 
 the most admirable romances in the English 
 language, we strip him of those qualities 
 which have made him the admiration of 
 mankind. 
 
 The Shepherd has, in no instance, dis- 
 covered a disposition to make any other 
 pretensions to public favour than those which 
 
 become the most unpretending of the pas- 
 10* 
 
114 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 toral race. His name, it is true, belongs to 
 a poet of early date, whose muse is not 
 without merit and whose memory is pre- 
 served in the annals of Scotland. But he 
 relies solely on his actual position, for the 
 good-will of the literary world, and by his 
 contributions to letters, he is willing- to stand 
 or fall. 
 
 Merit like his, however reluctantly it 
 may have been welcomed into the ranks of 
 the Aristocracy of England, will be hailed 
 with sincere pleasure in our Republic. He 
 has passed the period of probation. It is not 
 in the power of criticism, however able, to 
 destroy the lustre of his well-deserved fame. 
 
 In his delineations of Sir Walter Scott, 
 he has been influenced by the love of truth, 
 the partiality of admiration, the frankness of 
 friendship. He has observed much of that 
 
shepherd's life. 115 
 
 great man, which was not visible to less 
 familiar eyes. The Author of Waverley, — 
 in his library, with its carved ceiling, its 
 twenty thousand volumes, and its tall silver 
 urn filled with the bones of Grecian heroes, — 
 seemed like the Guardian Genius of Anti- 
 quity ; and his visitors approached him with 
 veneration. The poet of Ettrick saw him 
 as the poet of Abbotsford, and to one who 
 worships in the temple of nature, all other 
 worshippers there, seem but human. It is 
 in this point of view, it strikes us, that Mr. 
 Hogg has described Sir Walter Scott, and he 
 enables us to see him in a more natural and 
 pleasing form, or at least one that more allies 
 him to men in general, than we have hither- 
 to been able to do. 
 
 The Shepherd is an extraordinary man. 
 " Endowed by nature with a rich and lively 
 
116 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 imagination, a heart full of the finest sensi- 
 bilities, and an understanding at once acute 
 and profound, and having lived for many 
 years the most poetical of lives in one of the 
 most poetical of regions, it is no wonder that 
 he should have become a deep and graceful 
 poet of pastoral existence." 
 
 Energetic, imaginative, and bold, his 
 compositions are full of originality and 
 power. Mr. Cunningham, in his recent 
 History of the Literature of the last Fifty 
 Years, places him below Burns in "pas- 
 sionate ecstacy." This may be owing to the 
 difference in their nervous temperaments. 
 Both poets came from the humblest walks in 
 life, both have been ardent lovers of the 
 female character, but the Ettrick Shepherd 
 while he had the canopy of Heaven above 
 
shepherd's life. 117 
 
 him, seems never to have coveted any other 
 shelter. 
 
 Fond of rural sports, athletic in his 
 frame, a good bowman, an unerring shot, a 
 keen angler, he has felt himself independent, 
 while " the world was all before him where to 
 choose." 
 
 Burns, on the contrary, was happiest 
 when others guided his path, or led him 
 onward in the hope of patronage. When his 
 friends deserted him, his own courage proved 
 traitorous, and he died, " before his time," of 
 a broken heart." 
 
 Mr. Hogg scarcely knows what despon- 
 dency has been. When badly treated, he has 
 forgiven his enemy, or laid about him indig- 
 nantly with his quarter-staff. If he fails in 
 his attempts he straightway tries his for- 
 tune again. With his friends, he is gay. 
 
118 SKETCH OF THE 
 
 frank, hospitable. To him, nothing comes 
 amiss. The crack of his gun is heard, ever 
 and anon, upon the Yarrow side. The play 
 of his rod ripples the surface of St. Mary's 
 Loch. In his library, he sits down to study 
 with a cheerful heart, in his parlour he is the 
 soul of kindness to his affectionate wife, the 
 fondest of parents to his " sonsie bairns." 
 He is truly the " Chief of the Peasant School 
 of Poets," and as long as the language of 
 nature is kindred to human hearts, his works 
 will be the subject of constant admiration . 
 
FAMILIAR ANECDOTES 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 BY JAMES HOGG 
 
 THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 
 
FAMILIAR ANECDOTES 
 
 In the following miscellaneous narrative. 
 I do not pretend to give a life of my illus- 
 trious and regretted friend. That has been 
 done by half-a-dozen already, and will be 
 given by his son-in-law fully and clearly — the 
 only man who is thoroughly qualified for the 
 task, and is in possession of the necessary 
 documents. The whole that I presume to 
 do, is, after an intimate acquaintance of thirty 
 years, to give a few simple and personal 
 
 anecdotes, which no man can give but my- 
 11 
 
122 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 self. It is well known what Sir Walter was 
 in his study, but these are to show what he 
 was in the parlour, in his family, and among 
 his acquaintances ; and, in giving them, I 
 shall in nothing extenuate, or set down aught 
 through partiality, and as for malice, that is 
 out of the question. 
 
 The first time I ever saw Sir Walter was 
 one fine day in the summer of 1801. I was 
 busily engaged working in the field at Ettrick- 
 house, when old Wat Shiel came posting 
 over the water to me and told me that I boud 
 to gang away down to the Ramsey-cleuch as 
 fast as my feet could carry me, for there were 
 some gentlemen there who wanted to see me 
 directly. 
 
 " Wha can be at the Ramsey-cleuch that 
 want to see me, Wat." 
 
 " I coudna say, for it wasna me they 
 
r SIR WALTER SCOTT. 123 
 
 spake to i' the bygangin', but I'm thinking 
 it's the Shirra an' some o' his gang." 
 
 " I was rejoiced to hear this, for I had 
 seen the first volumes of the " Minstrelsy of 
 the Border," and had copied a number of 
 ballads from my mother's recital, or chaunt 
 rather, and sent them to the editor prepara- 
 tory to the publication of a third volume. I 
 accordingly flung down my hoe and hasted 
 away home to put on my Sunday clothes, but 
 before reaching it I met the Shirra and 
 Mr. William Laidlaw, coming to visit me. 
 They alighted, and remained in our cottage 
 a considerable time, perhaps, nearly two 
 hours, and we were friends on the very first 
 exchange of sentiments. It could not be 
 otherwise, for Scott had no duplicity about 
 him, he always said as he thought. My 
 mother chaunted the ballad of Old Maitlan' 
 
124 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 to him, with which he was highly delighted, 
 and asked her if she thought it ever had 
 been in print ? And her answer was, " O 
 na, na, sir, it never was printed i' the world, 
 for my brothers an' me learned it an' many 
 mae frae auld Andrew Moor, and he learned 
 it frae auld Baby Mettlin, wha was house- 
 keeper to the first laird of Tushilaw. She 
 was said to hae been another nor a gude 
 ane, an' there are many queer stories about 
 hersel', but O, she had been a grand singer 
 o' auld songs an' ballads." 
 
 H The first laird of Tushilaw, Margaret?" 
 said he, " then that must be a very old story 
 indeed ? " 
 
 " Ay, it is that, sir ! It is an auld story ! 
 But mair nor that, excepting George Warton 
 an' James Stewart, there war never ane o' 
 my sangs prentit till ye prentit them yourseP, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 125 
 
 an' ye hae spoilt them awthegither. They 
 were made for singing an' no for reading ; 
 but ye hae broken the charm now, an' they'll 
 never be sung mair. An' the worst thing of 
 a', they're nouther right spell'd nor right 
 setten down." 
 
 "Take ye that, Mr. Scott," said Laid- 
 law. 
 
 Scott answered with a hearty laugh, and 
 
 the quotation of a stanza from Wordsworth, 
 
 on which my mother gave him a hearty rap 
 
 on the knee with her open hand, and said, 
 
 " Ye'll find, however, that it is a' true that 
 
 I'm tellin' ye." My mother has been too 
 
 true a prophetess, for from that day to this, 
 
 these songs, which were the amusement of 
 
 every winter evening, have never been sung 
 
 more. 
 
 We were all to dine at Ramsey-cleuch 
 11* 
 
126 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 with the Messrs. Brydon, but Scott and Laid- 
 law went away to look at some monuments 
 in Ettrick church-yard, and some other old 
 thing, I have forgot what, and I was to fol- 
 low. On going into the stable-yard at Ram- 
 sey-cleuch I met with Mr. Scott's groom, a 
 greater original than his master, at whom I 
 asked if the Shirr a was come ? 
 
 " Oo ay, lad, the Shirra's come," said he.. 
 " Are ye the chap that mak's the auld bal- 
 lads, an' sings them sae weel ? " 
 
 I said, I fancied 1 was he that he meant, 
 though I could not say that I had ever made 
 ony very auld ballads. 
 
 " Ay, then, lad, gang your ways into the 
 house, and speir for the Shirra. They'll let 
 ye see where he is, an' he'll be very glad to 
 see ye, that I'll assure ye o'." 
 
 During the sociality of the evening, the 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 127 
 
 discourse ran very much on the different 
 breeds of sheep, that everlasting drawback on 
 the community of Ettrick Forest. The ori- 
 ginal black-faced forest breed being always 
 denominated the short sheep, and the Che- 
 viot breed the long sheep. The disputes at 
 that time ran very high about the practicable 
 profits of each. Mr. Scott, who had come into 
 that remote district to visit a bard of Nature's 
 own making and preserve what little fragments 
 remained of the country's legendary lore, felt 
 himself rather bored with the everlasting 
 question of the long and short sheep. So, 
 at length, putting on his most serious calcu- 
 lating face, he turned to Mr. Walter Brydon, 
 and said, "I am rather at a loss regarding 
 the merits of this very important question. 
 How long must a sheep actually measure to- 
 
128 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 come under the denomination of a long 
 sheep ? " 
 
 Mr. Brydon, who, in the simplicity of his 
 heart, neither perceived the quiz nor the re- 
 proof, fell to answer with great sincerity, "It's 
 the woo', sir ; it's the woo' that mak's the 
 difference, the lang sheep hae the short woo' 
 an' the short sheep hae the lang thing, an' 
 these are just kind o' names we gie them, ye 
 see." 
 
 Laidlaw got up a great guffaw, on which 
 Scott could not preserve his face of strict cal- 
 culation any longer ; it went gradually awry, 
 and a hearty laugh followed. When I saw 
 the very same words repeated near the begin- 
 ning of the Black Dwarf, how could I be mis- 
 taken of the author? It is true that Johnie Bal- 
 lantyne swore me into a nominal acquiescence 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 129 
 
 to the contrary for several years, but in my 
 own mind I could never get the better of that 
 and several other similar coincidences. 
 
 The next day we went off, five in number, 
 to visit the wilds of Rankleburn, to see if, on 
 the farms of Buccleuch and Mount Comyn, 
 the original possession of the Scotts, there 
 were any relics of antiquity which could 
 mark out the original residence of the chiefs 
 whose distinction it was to become the pro- 
 prietors of the greater part of the border 
 districts. We found no remains of either 
 tower or fortalice, save an old chapel and 
 church-yard, and the remnants of a kiln-mill 
 and mill-dam, where corn never grew, but 
 where, as old Satchells very appropriately 
 says : 
 
 "Had heather bells been corn o' the best, 
 The Buccleuch mill would have had a noble grist," 
 
130 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 It must have been used for grinding the 
 chiefs black mails, which it is well known 
 were all paid to him in kind ; and an im- 
 mense deal of victual is still paid to him in 
 the same way, the origin of which no man 
 knows. 
 
 Besides having been mentioned by Sat- 
 chells, the most fabulous historian that ever 
 wrote, there was a remaining tradition in the 
 country that there was a font-stone of blue 
 marble, out of which the ancient heirs of 
 Buccleuch were baptized, covered up among 
 the ruins of the old church. Mr. Scott was 
 curious to see if we could discover it, but on 
 going among the ruins where the altar was 
 known to have been, we found the rubbish 
 at that spot dug out to the foundation, we 
 knew not by whom, but it was manifest 
 that the font had either been taken away, or 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 131 
 
 that there was none there. I never heard 
 since that it had ever been discovered by any 
 one. 
 
 As there appeared, however, to have been 
 a sort of recess in the eastern gable, we fell 
 a turning over some loose stones, to see if the 
 baptismal font was not there, when we came 
 to one- half of a small pot encrusted thick 
 with rust. Mr. Scott's eyes brightened and 
 he swore it was part of an ancient consecrated 
 helmet. Laidlaw, however, fell a picking 
 and scratching with great patience until at 
 last he came to a layer of pitch inside, and 
 then, with a malicious sneer, he said, " The 
 truth is, Mr. Scott, it's nouther mair nor less 
 than an auld tar-pot, that some of the far- 
 mers hae been buisting their sheep out o' i' 
 the kirk lang syne." Sir Walter's shaggy 
 eye-brows dipped deep over his eyes, and, 
 
132 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 suppressing a smile, he turned and strode 
 away as fast as he could, saying, that " we 
 had just rode all the way to see that there 
 was nothing to be seen." 
 
 He was, at that time, a capital horseman, 
 and was riding on a terribly high-spirited 
 grey nag, which had the perilous fancy of 
 leaping every drain, rivulet, and ditch that 
 came in our way. The consequence was, 
 that he was everlastingly bogging himself, 
 while sometimes the rider kept his seat in spite 
 of the animals' plunging, and at other times 
 he was obliged to extricate himself the best 
 way he could. In coming through a place 
 called the Milsey Bog, I said to him, " Mr. 
 Scott, that's the maddest de'il of a beast I 
 ever saw. Can you no gar him tak' a wee 
 mair time ? he's just out o' ae lair intil ano- 
 ther wi' ye." 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 "Ay," said he, " he and I have been very 
 often like the Pechs (Picts) these two days 
 past, we could stand straight up and tie the 
 latchets of our shoes." I did not understand 
 the allusion, nor do I yet, but those were his 
 words. 
 
 We visited the old castles of Tushilaw 
 and Thirlstane, dined and spent the after- 
 noon and the night with Mr. Brydon of 
 Crosslee. Sir Walter was all the while in 
 the highest good humour, and seemed to en- 
 joy the range of mountain solitude which we 
 traversed, exceedingly. Indeed, I never saw 
 him otherwise in the fields. On the rugged 
 mountains, and even toiling in the Tweed to 
 the waist, I have seen his glee surpass that 
 of all other men. His memory, or, perhaps 
 I should say, his recollection, was so capa- 
 cious, so sterling, and minute, that a descrip- 
 12 
 
134 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 tion of what I have witnessed regarding it 
 would not gain credit. When in Edinburgh, 
 and even at Abbotsford, I was often obliged 
 to apply to him for references in my 
 historical tales, that so I might relate nothing 
 of noblemen and gentlemen named that was 
 not strictly true. I never found him at fault. 
 In that great library, he not only went uni- 
 formly straight to the book, but ere ever he 
 stirred from the spot, turned up the page 
 which contained the information I wanted. 
 I saw a pleasant instance of this retentiveness 
 of memory recorded lately of him, regarding 
 Campbell's Pleasures of Hope, but I 
 think I can relate a* more extraordinary one. 
 He, and Skene of Rubislaw, and I were 
 out one night about midnight, leistering 
 kippers in Tweed, about the end of January, 
 not long after the opening of the river for 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 135 
 
 fishing, which was then on the tenth, and 
 Scott having a great range of the river him- 
 self, we went up to the side of the Rough 
 haugh of Elibank ; but when we came to 
 kindle our light, behold our peat was gone 
 out. This was a terrible disappointment, 
 but to think of giving up our sport was out 
 of the question, so we had no other shift save 
 to send Rob Fletcher all the way through 
 the darkness, the distance of two miles, for 
 another fiery peat. 
 
 The night was mild, calm, and as dark 
 as pitch, and while Fletcher was absent we 
 three sat down on the brink of the river, on 
 a little green sward which I never will forget, 
 and Scott desired me to sing them my ballad 
 of " Gilman's-cleuch." Now, be it remem- 
 bered, that this ballad had never been printed, 
 I had merely composed it by rote, and, on 
 
136 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 finishing it three years before, had sung it 
 once over to Sir Walter. I began it, at his 
 request, but at the eighth or ninth stanza I 
 stuck in it, and could not get on with another 
 verse, on which he began it again and recited 
 it every word from beginning to end. It 
 being a very long ballad, consisting of eighty- 
 eight stanzas, I testified my astonishment, 
 knowing that he had never heard it but 
 once, and even then did not appear to be 
 paying particular attention. He said he had 
 been out with a pleasure party as far as the 
 opening of the Frith of Forth, and, to amuse 
 the company, he had recited both that ballad 
 and one of Southey's, (The Abbot of Aber- 
 brothock,) both of which ballads he had only 
 heard once from their respective authors, 
 and he believed he recited them both without 
 misplacing a word. 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 137 
 
 Rob Fletcher came at last, and old Mr. 
 Laidlaw of the Peel with him, carrying a lan- 
 tern, and into the river we plunged in a frail 
 bark which had suffered some deadly damage 
 in bringing up. We had a fine blazing light, 
 and the salmon began to appear in plenty, 
 " turning up sides like swine ; " but wo be 
 to us, our boat began instantly to manifest a 
 disposition to sink, and in a few minutes we 
 reached Gleddie's Weal, the deepest pool in 
 all that part of Tweed. When Scott saw 
 the terror that his neighbour old Peel was in, 
 he laughed till the tears blinded his eyes. 
 Always the more mischief the better sport for 
 him. " For God's sake, push her to the 
 side ! " roared Peel. " Oh, she goes fine," 
 said Scott. 
 
 " ' An' gin the boat war bottomless, 
 An' seven miles to row.' " 
 
 12* 
 
138 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 A verse of an old song ; and during the 
 very time he was reciting these lines, down 
 went the boat to the bottom, plunging us all 
 into Tweed, over head and ears. It was no 
 sport to me, at all, for I had no change of rai- 
 ment at Ashiesteel, but that was a glorious 
 night for Scott, and the next day was no 
 worse. 
 
 I remember leaving my own cottage 
 here one morning with him, accompanied by 
 my dear friend. William Laidlaw, and Sir 
 Adam Ferguson, to visit the tremendous 
 solitudes of Loch-Skene and the Grey-mare's- 
 tail. I conducted them through that wild 
 region by a path, which, if not rode by 
 Clavers, as reported; never was rode by 
 another gentleman. Sir Adam rode inad- 
 vertantly into a gulf and got a sad fright, 
 but Sir Walter, in the very worst path?, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 139 
 
 never dismounted, save at Loch-Skene to 
 take some dinner. We went to Moffat that 
 night, where we met with Lady Scott and 
 Sophia, and such a day and night of glee I 
 never witnessed. Our very perils were to 
 him matter of infinite merriment; and then 
 there was a short tempered boot-boy at the 
 mn, who wanted to pick a quarrel with him 
 for some of his sharp retorts, at which Scott 
 laughed till the water ran over his cheeks. 
 
 I was disappointed in never seeing some 
 incident in his subsequent works laid in 
 a scene resembling the rugged solitude 
 around Loch-Skene, for I never saw him sur- 
 vey any with so much attention. A single 
 serious look at a scene generally filled his 
 mind with it, and he seldom took another. 
 But, here, he took the names of all the hilis, 
 their altitudes, and relative situations with re- 
 
140 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 gard to one another, and made me repeat all 
 these several times. Such a scene may occur 
 in some of his works which I have not seen, 
 and I think it will, for he has rarely ever 
 been known to interest himself either in a 
 scene or a character, which did not appear 
 afterwards in all its most striking- pecu- 
 liarities. 
 
 There are not above three people now 
 living, who, I think, knew Sir Walter better 
 and who understood his character better than 
 I did, and I once declared that if I out- 
 lived him, I should draw a mental and 
 familiar portrait of him, the likeness of 
 which to the original could not be dis- 
 puted. In the meantime, this is only a 
 reminiscence, in my own homely way, of 
 an illustrious friend among the mountains. 
 That revered friend is now gone, and the 
 
 I 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 141 
 
 following pages are all that I deem my- 
 self at liberty to publish concerning him. 
 
 The enthusiasm with which he recited 
 and spoke of our ancient ballads, during that 
 first tour through the Forest, inspired me 
 with a determination immediately to begin 
 and imitate them, which I did, and soon 
 grew tolerably good at it. I dedicated " The 
 Mountain Bard," to him : 
 
 Bless'd be his generous heart, for aye, 
 He told me where the relic lay, 
 Pointed my -way with ready will, 
 Afar on Ettrick's wildest hill ; 
 Watch'd my first notes with curious eye ? 
 And wonder'd at my minstrelsy : 
 He little ween'd a parent's tongue 
 Such strains had o'er my cradle sung. 
 
 The only foible I ever could discover in 
 the character of Sir Walter, was a too strong 
 
142 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 leaning to the old aristocracy of the country. 
 His devotion for titled rank was prodigious, 
 and, in such an illustrious character, alto- 
 gether out of place. It amounted almost 
 to adoration, and, not to mention the nu- 
 merous nobility whom I have met at his own 
 house and in his company, I shall give a few 
 instances of that sort of feeling in him to 
 which I allude. 
 
 Although he, of course, acknowledged 
 Buccleuch as the head and chief of the whole 
 clan of Scott, yet he always acknowledged 
 Harden as his immediate chieftain, and head 
 of that powerful and numerous sept of the 
 name, and Sir Walter was wont often to 
 relate, how he, and his father before him, 
 and his grandfather before that, always kept 
 their Christmas with Harden in acknow- 
 ledgment of their vassalage. This he used 
 
SIR WALTER SOOTT. 143 
 
 to tell with a degree of exultation, which I 
 always thought must have been astounding 
 to every one who heard it ; as if his illustrious 
 name did not throw a blaze of glory on the 
 house of Harden a hundred times more than 
 that van of old border barbarians, however 
 brave, could throw over him. 
 
 He was, likewise, descended from the 
 chiefs of Haliburton and Rutherford, on the 
 maternal side, and to the circumstance of his 
 descent from these three houses he adverted 
 so often, mingling their arms in his es- 
 cutcheon, that to me, alas ! who, to this day 
 could never be brought to discover any dis- 
 tinction in ranks, save what was constituted 
 by talents or moral worth, it appeared per- 
 fectly ludicrous, thinking, as no man could 
 help thinking, of the halo which his genius 
 
144 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 shed over those families, while he only valued 
 himself as a descendant of theirs. 
 
 I may mention one other instance, at 
 which I was both pleased and mortified. 
 We chanced to meet at a great festival at 
 Bowhill, when Duke Charles was living and 
 in good health. The company being very 
 numerous, there were two tables set in the 
 dining-room, one along and one across. 
 They were nearly of the same length, but 
 at the one along the middle of the room 
 all the ladies were seated mixed alternately 
 with gentlemen, and at this table all were 
 noble, save, if I remember aright, Sir Adam 
 Ferguson, whose everlasting good humour 
 insures him a passport into every company. 
 But I, having had some chat with the ladies 
 before dinner, and always rather a flattered 
 pet with them, imagined they could not pos- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTTl 145 
 
 sibly live without me, and placed myself 
 among them. But I had a friend at the 
 cross table, at the head of the room, who saw 
 better. Sir Walter, who presided there, arose 
 and addressing the Duke of Buccleuch, re- 
 quested of him, as a particular favour and 
 obligation, that he would allow Mr. Hogg to 
 come to his table, for that, in fact, he could 
 not do without him ; and, moreover, he 
 added, 
 
 If ye reave the Hoggs o' Fauldshope, 
 Ye hurry Harden's gear. 
 
 I, of course, got permission, and retired to 
 Sir Walter's table, when he placed me on the 
 right hand of the gentleman on his right 
 hand, who, of course, was Scott of Harden. 
 And yet, notwithstanding the broad insinua- 
 tion about the Hoggs of Fauldshope, I sat 
 13 
 
146 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 beside that esteemed gentleman the whole 
 night, and all the while took him for an 
 English clergyman ! I knew there were 
 some two or three clergymen of rank there, 
 connected with the family, and I took 
 Harden for one of them ; and though I was 
 mistaken, I still say, he ought to have been 
 one. I was dumb-foundered next day, when 
 the Duke told me, that my divine whom I 
 thought so much of, was Scott of Harden, 
 for I would have liked so well to have talked 
 with him about old matters, my forefathers 
 having been vassals under that house, on the 
 lands of Fauldshope, for more than two cen- 
 turies, and were only obliged to change mas- 
 ters with the change of proprietors. It was 
 doubtless owing to this connection, that my 
 father had instilled into my youthful mind so 
 many traditions relating to the house of 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 147 
 
 Harden, of which I have made considerable 
 use. 
 
 But the anecdote which I intended to 
 relate, before my ruling passion of egotism 
 came across me, was this. When the dinner 
 came to be served, Sir Walter refused to let 
 a dish be set on our table, which had not 
 been first presented to the Duke and the 
 nobility. " No, no ! " said he. " This is 
 literally a meeting of the Clan and its ad- 
 herents, and we shall have one dinner in the 
 feudal style, it may be but for once in our 
 lives." 
 
 As soon as the Duke perceived this 
 whim, he admitted of it, although I believe 
 the dishes were merely set down and lifted 
 again. In the meantime, the venison and 
 beef stood on the side-board, which was free 
 to all, so that we were all alike busy from the 
 
148 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 beginning. At the end of our libations, and 
 before we parted, some time in the course of 
 the morning, the Duke set his one foot on 
 the table and the other on his chair, request- 
 ing us all to do the same, with which every 
 man complied, and in that position he sung, 
 " Johnie Cope, are ye wauking yet ? " while 
 all joined in the chorus. Sir Walter set his 
 weak foot on the table and kept his position 
 steadily, apparently more firm than when he 
 stood on the floor, joining in the chorus 
 with his straight-forward bass voice with 
 great glee, enjoying the whole scene exceed- 
 ingly, as he did every scene of hilarity that 
 I ever saw. But though a more social com- 
 panion never was born, he never filled him- 
 self drunk. He took always his wine after 
 dinner, and, at least for upwards of twenty 
 years, a little gin toddy after supper, but he 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 149 
 
 was uniformly moderate in eating and drink- 
 ing. He liked a good breakfast, but often 
 confessed that he never knew what a good 
 breakfast was till he came to my cottage, 
 but he should never want it again, and he 
 kept steadily to his resolution. 
 
 He was a most extraordinary being. 
 How or when he composed his voluminous 
 works, no man could tell. When in Edin- 
 burgh, he was bound to the Parliament- 
 house all the forenoon. He never was 
 denied to any living, neither lady nor gentle- 
 man, poor nor rich, and he never seemed dis- 
 composed when intruded on, but always good- 
 humoured and kind. Many a time have I 
 been sorry for him, for I have remained in his 
 study, in Castle-street, in hopes to get a quiet 
 word of him, and witnessed the admission of 
 
 ten intruders, foreby myself. Noblemen, 
 13* 
 
150 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 gentlemen, painters, poets, and players, all 
 crowded to Sir Walter, not to mention book- 
 sellers and printers, who were never absent, 
 but these spoke to him privately. When at 
 Abbotsford, for a number of years his house 
 was almost constantly filled with company, 
 for there was a correspondence carried on, and 
 always as one freight went away, another 
 came. It was impossible not to be sorry for 
 the time of such a man thus broken in 
 upon. I felt it exceedingly, and once, when 
 I went down by particular invitation to stay 
 a fortnight, I had not the heart to stay any 
 longer than three days, and that space was 
 generally the length of my visits. But Sir 
 Walter never was discomposed. He was 
 ready, as soon as breakfast was over, to ac- 
 company his guests wherever they chose to 
 go, to stroll in the wood, or take a drive up to 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 151 
 
 Yarrow, or down to Melrose or Dryburgh, 
 where his revered ashes now repose. He 
 was never out of humour when well, but 
 when ill he was very cross, he being subject 
 to a bilious complaint of the most dreadful 
 and severe nature, accompanied by pangs the 
 most excruciating, and when under the in- 
 fluence of that malady it was not easy to 
 speak to him, and I found it always the best 
 plan to keep a due distance. But then his 
 sufferings had been most intense, for he told 
 me one day, when he was sitting as yellow 
 as a primrose, that roasted salt had been pre- 
 scribed to lay on the pit of his stomach, 
 which was applied, and the next day it was 
 discovered that his breast was all in a blister 
 and the bosom of his shirt burnt to an izel, 
 and yet he never felt it ! 
 
 But to return to our feast at Bowhill, from 
 
152 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 which I have strangely wandered, although 
 the best of the fun is yet to come. When 
 the Duke retired to the drawing-room he de- 
 puted Sir Alexander Don, who sat next him, 
 to his chair. We had long before been all at 
 one table. Sir Alexander instantly requested 
 a bumper out of champaigne glasses to the 
 Duke's health, with all the honours. It was 
 instantly complied with, and every one drank 
 it to the bottom. Don then proposed the fol- 
 lowing of so good an example as his Grace 
 had set us, and accordingly we were all 
 obliged to mount our chairs again, and set- 
 ting one foot on the table, sing Johnie Cope 
 over again. Every one at least attempted it, 
 and Sir Alexander sang the song in most 
 capital style. The Scotts, and the Elliotts, 
 and some Taits, now began to fall with terri- 
 ble thuds on the floor, but Sir Walter still 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 153 
 
 kept his station as steady as a rock, and 
 laughed immoderately. But this was too 
 good fun to be given up. The Marquis of 
 Queensberry, who was acting as Croupier, 
 said that such a loyal and social Border Clan 
 could never separate without singing " God 
 save the King," and that though we had 
 drunk to his health at the beginning, we be- 
 hoved to do it again and join in the anthem. 
 We were obliged to mount our chairs again ; 
 and in the same ticklish position, sing the 
 King's Anthem. Down we went, one after 
 another. Nay, they actually fell in heaps 
 above each other. I fell off and took a prodi- 
 gious run to one corner of the room, against 
 which I fell, which created great merriment. 
 There were not above six stood the test this 
 time, out of from thirty to forty. Sir Walter 
 did, and he took all the latter bumpers off to 
 
154 FAMILAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 the brim. He had a good head more ways 
 than one. 
 
 There was no man who ever testified 
 more admiration, and even astonishment, 
 than he did at my poetical productions, both 
 songs and poems, and sometimes in very 
 high terms before his most intimate friends. 
 It was somewhat different with regard to my 
 prose works, with which he uniformly found 
 iault, and always with the disagreeable ad- 
 junction, "how good they might have been 
 made with a little pains." When The Three 
 Perils of Man was first put to press, he 
 requested to see the proof slips, Ballantyne 
 having been telling him something about the 
 work. They were sent to him on the 
 instant, and on reading them he sent express- 
 ly for me as he wanted to see me, and speak 
 with me, about my forthcoming work. We 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 155 
 
 being both at that time residing in Edin- 
 burgh, I attended directly, and I think I re- 
 member every word that passed. Indeed, so 
 implicit was my dependance on his friend- 
 ship, his good taste, and judgment, that I 
 never forgot a sentence nor a word that he 
 said to me about my own works, but treasur- 
 ed them up in my heart. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Hogg, I have read over your 
 proofs with a great deal of pleasure, and, I 
 confess with some little portion of dread. In 
 the first place, the meeting of the two prin- 
 cesses, at Castle Weiry is excellent. I have 
 not seen any modern thing more truly dra- 
 matic. The characters are all strongly 
 marked, old Peter Chisholme's in particular. 
 Ah ! man, what you might have made of 
 that with a little more refinement, care, and 
 patience ! But it is always the same with 
 
156 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 you, just hurrying on from one vagary to 
 another, without consistency or proper ar- 
 rangement." 
 
 " Dear Mr. Scott, a man canna do the 
 thing that he canna do." 
 
 " Yes, but you can do it. Witness your 
 poems, where the arrangements are all per- 
 fect and complete; but in your prose works, 
 with the exception of a few short tales, you 
 seem to write merely by random, without 
 once considering what you are going to 
 write about." 
 
 "You are not often wrong, Mr. Scott, and 
 you were never righter in your life than you 
 are now, for when I write the first line of a 
 tale or novel, I know not what the second is 
 to be, and it is the same way in every sen- 
 tence throughout. When my tale is tra- 
 ditionary, the work is easy, as I then see my 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 157 
 
 way before me, though the tradition be ever 
 so short, but in all my prose works of imagi- 
 nation, knowing little of the world, I sail on 
 without star or compass." 
 
 " I am sorry to say, that this is too often 
 apparent. But, in the next place, and it was 
 on that account I sent for you, do you not 
 think there is some little danger in making 
 Sir Walter Scott, of Buccleuch, the hero of 
 this wild extravagant tale ? " 
 
 " The devil a bit." 
 
 " Well, I think differently. The present 
 
 chief is your patron, your sincere friend, and 
 
 your enthusiastic admirer. Would it not then 
 
 be a subject of regret, not only to 3^ourself and 
 
 me, but to all Scotland, should you, by any 
 
 rash adventure, forfeit the countenance and 
 
 friendship of so good and so great a man 'I " 
 
 " There's nae part o' that at a', Mr. Scott. 
 14 
 
158 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 The Sir Walter of my tale is a complete 
 hero throughout and is never made to do a 
 thing, or say a thing, of which his descen- 
 dant our present chief wirma be proud." 
 
 " I am not quite sure of that. Do you 
 not think you have made him a rather too 
 selfish character?" 
 
 " O, ay, but ye ken they were a' a little 
 gi'en that gate, else how could they hae 
 gotten hand o' a' the south o' Scotland, nae- 
 body kens how." 
 
 Sir Walter then took to himself a hearty 
 laugh, and then pronounced these very words. 
 " Well, Hogg, you appear to me just now like 
 a man dancing upon a rope or wire, at a great 
 height; if he is successful and finishes his 
 dance in safety, he has accomplished no 
 great matter, but if he makes a slip he gets a 
 devil of a fall." 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 159 
 
 "Never say another word about it, Mr. 
 Scott, I'm satisfied ; the designation shall be 
 changed throughout, before I either eat or 
 sleep." And I kept my word. 
 
 I went, when in Edinburgh, at his particu- 
 lar request, two or three days every week, to 
 breakfast with him, as I was then always sure 
 of an hour's conversation with him, before he 
 went to the Parliament house, and I often 
 went for many days successively, as I soon 
 found it was impossible to be in his company 
 without gaining advantage. But there was 
 one Sunday morning I found him in very bad 
 humour indeed. He was sitting at his desk in 
 his study at Castle-street, and when I went in 
 he looked up to me with a visage as stern as 
 that of a judge g;oing to pronounce sen- 
 tence on a malefactor, and at the -same 
 time, he neither rose nor saluted me, which 
 
 I 
 
160 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 was always his wont, and the first words that 
 
 he addressed to me were these, " Mr. Hogg, I 
 
 am very angry with you, I tell you it plainly, 
 
 and I think I have a right to be so. I de- 
 ft 
 mand, sir, an explanation of a sentence in 
 
 your Spy of yesterday." 
 
 Knowing perfectly well to what sentence 
 he alluded, my peasant blood began to boil, 
 and I found it rushing to my head and face 
 most violently, as I judged myself by far 
 the most aggrieved. " Then I must first de- 
 mand an explanation from you, Mr. Scott," 
 said I, " Were you the author of the article 
 alluded to in my paper, which places you at 
 the head, and me at the tail, nay, as the very 
 dregs of all the poets of Britain ?" 
 
 " What right had you, sir, to suppose that I 
 
 was the author of it?" said he, in a perfect rage. 
 
 " Nay, what right had you to suppose 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 161 
 
 that you were the author of it, that you are 
 taking it so keenly to yourself?" said I. 
 " The truth is, that when I wrote the re- 
 marks, I neither knew nor cared who was the 
 author of the article alluded to ; but before 
 the paper went to press, I believed it to 
 have been Mr. Southey, for Johny Ballan- 
 tyne told me so, and swore to it ; but if the 
 feather suits your cap, you are perfectly 
 welcome to it." 
 
 " Very well, Hogg." said he, " that is 
 spoken like a man, and like yourself; I am 
 satisfied. I thought it was meant as personal 
 to me in particular. But, never mind. We 
 are friends again as usual. Sit down and we 
 will go to our breakfast together immediately, 
 and it shall never more be mentioned be- 
 tween us." 
 
 Mr. Southey long afterwards told me, 
 14* 
 
162 FAMILIA.R ANECDOTES OF 
 
 that he was not the author of that article^ 
 and he believed it to have been written by 
 Scott. If it was, it was rather too bad of 
 him ; but he never said it was not his. It 
 was a review of modern literature in the 
 Edinburgh Annual Register. As some 
 readers of these anecdotes may be curious to 
 see the offensive passage in the Spy, I shall, 
 here extract it ; that work being long ago 
 extinct, and only occasionally mentioned by 
 myself, as a parent will sometimes mention the 
 name of a dear, unfortunate, lost child, who 
 has been forgotten by all the world beside. 
 
 " The papers which have given the 
 greatest personal offence are those of Mr. 
 Shuffleton, which popular clamour obliged the 
 editor reluctantly to discontinue. Of all the 
 poets and poetesses whose works are there 
 emblematically introduced, one gentleman 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 163 
 
 alone stood the test, and his firmness was 
 even by himself attributed to forgiveness. 
 All the rest, male and female, tossed up their 
 noses and pronounced the writer an ignorant 
 and incorrigible barbarian. The Spy here- 
 by acknowledges himself the author of these 
 papers, and adheres to the figurative charac- 
 ters he has there given of the poetical works 
 of those authors. He knows, that, in a future 
 edition, it is expected that they are all to be 
 altered or obliterated. They never shall ! 
 Though the entreaties of respected friends 
 prevailed on him to relinquish a topic which 
 was his favourite one, what he has published, 
 he has published, and no private considera- 
 tion shall induce him to an act of such mani- 
 fest servility as that of making a renuncia- 
 tion. Those who are so grossly ignorant as 
 to suppose the figurative characteristics of the 
 
164 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 poetry, as having the smallest reference to the 
 personal characters of the authors, are below 
 reasoning with. And since it has of late 
 become fashionable with some great poets, to 
 give an estimate of their great powers in 
 periodical works of distinction, surely others 
 have an equal right to give likewise their esti- 
 mates of the works of such bards. It is truly 
 amusing to see how artfully a gentleman is 
 placed at the head of a school of poetry, and 
 one who is, perhaps, his superior at the tail of 
 it. How he can make himself to appear as the 
 oreatest genius that ever existed. With what 
 address he can paint his failings as beauties, 
 and depict his greatest excellencies as slight 
 defects, finding fault only with those parts 
 which every one must admire. The design 
 is certainly an original, though not a very 
 creditable one. Great authors cannot remain 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 165 
 
 always concealed, let them be as cautious as 
 they will ; the smallest incident often assist- 
 ing curiosity in the discovery." — Spy for 
 August 2Uh, 1811. 
 
 This last sentence, supposing Sir Walter 
 to have been the author, which I now suspect 
 he was, certainly contained rather too broad 
 and too insolent a charge to be passed over 
 with impunity. When I wrote it. I believed 
 he was, but had I continued to believe so, I 
 would not have called on him the next morn- 
 ing after the publication of the paper. 
 Luckily, before putting the paper to press, I 
 waited on Mr. John Ballantyne, and asked 
 him who was the author of that insolent 
 paper in his Annual Register, which placed 
 me as the dregs of all the poets in Britain. 
 
 " O, the paper was sent to our office by 
 Southey," said he, u you know he is editor 
 
166 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 and part proprietor of the work, and we 
 never think of objecting to any thing that 
 he sends us. Neither my brother James, nor 
 I, ever read the article until it was published, 
 and we both thought it was a good one." 
 
 Now this was a story, beside the truth, 
 for I found out afterwards that Mr. James 
 Ballantyne had read the paper from manu- 
 script, in a library, long before its publication, 
 where it was applauded in the highest terms. 
 I, however, implicitly believed it, as I have 
 done every body all my life. At that period, 
 the whole of the aristocracy and literature of 
 our country were set against me, and deter- 
 mined to keep me down; nay, to crush me to 
 a nonentity ; thanks be to God ! I have 
 lived to see the sentiments of my country- 
 men completely changed. 
 
 There was once more, and only once, 
 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 167 
 
 that I found Sir Walter in the same quer- 
 rulous humour with me. It was the day 
 after the publication of my Brownie of 
 Bodsbeck. I called on him after his return 
 from the Parliament house, on pretence of 
 asking his advice about some very important 
 affair, but in fact, to hear his sentiments of 
 my new work. His shaggy eye-brows were 
 hanging very low down, a bad prelude, 
 which I knew too well. " I have read 
 through your new work, Mr. Hogg," said he. 
 " and must tell you downright and plainly, 
 as I always do, that I like it very ill— very ill 
 indeed." 
 
 "What for, Mr. Scott?" 
 
 " Because it is a false and unfair picture 
 of the times and the existing characters, 
 altogether an exaggerated and unfair picture !" 
 
168 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 " I dinna ken, Mr. Scott. It is the pic- 
 ture I have been bred up in the belief o' sin 5 
 ever t was born, and I had it frae them 
 whom I was most bound to honour and 
 believe. An' mair nor that, there is not one 
 single incident in the tale — not one — which I 
 cannot prove from history, to be literally and 
 positively true. I was obliged sometimes to 
 change the situations to make one part 
 coalesce with another, but in no one instance 
 have I related a story of a cruelty or a 
 murder which is not literally true. An' 
 that's a great deal mair than you can say for 
 your tale o' Auld Mortality." 
 
 " You are overshooting the mark now, 
 Mr. Hogg. I wish it were my tale. But it 
 is not with regard to that, that I find fault 
 with your tale at all, but merely because it 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 169 
 
 is an unfair and partial picture of the age 
 in which it is laid." 
 
 " Na, I shouldna hae said it was your 
 tale, for ye hae said to your best friends that 
 it was not an' there I was wrang. Ye may 
 hinder a man to speak, but ye canna hinder 
 him to think, an' I can speak at the think- 
 ing. But, whoever wrote Auld Mortality, 
 kenning what I ken, an' what ye ken, I 
 wadna wonder at you being ill-pleased with 
 my tale, if ye thought it written as a counter- 
 poise to that, but ye ken weel it was written 
 lang afore the other was heard of." 
 
 " Yes, I know that a part of it was in 
 manuscript last year, but I suspect it has 
 been greatly exaggerated since." 
 
 " As I am an honest man, sir, there has 
 not been a line altered or added, that I re- 
 member of. The original copy was printed. 
 15 
 
170 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 Mr. Blackwood was the only man, beside 
 yourself, who saw it. He read it painfully, 
 which I now know you did not, and I 
 appeal to him." 
 
 " Well, well. As to its running counter 
 to Old Mortality, I have nothing to say. 
 Nothing in the world. I only tell you, that 
 with the exception of Old Nanny, the crop- 
 eared Covenanter, who is by far the best 
 character you ever drew in your life, I dis- 
 like the tale exceedingly, and assure you it is 
 a distorted, a prejudiced, and untrue picture 
 of the Royal party." 
 
 " It is a devilish deal truer than yours 
 though, and on that ground I make my 
 appeal to my country." 
 
 And with that I rose and was going off 
 in a great huff. 
 
 u No, no ! stop ! " cried he, " you are 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 171 
 
 not to go, and leave me again in bad 
 humour. You ought not to be offended 
 with me for telling you my mind freely." 
 
 " Why, to be sure, it is the greatest folly 
 in the world for me to be sae. But ane's 
 beuks are like his bairns, he disna like to 
 hear them spoken ill o', especially when he is 
 conscious that they dinna deserve it." 
 
 Sir Walter, then, after his customary 
 short good-humoured laugh, repeated a pro- 
 verb about the Gordons, which was exceed- 
 ingly apropos to my feelings at the time, but, 
 all that I can do, I cannot remember it, 
 though I generally remembered every thing 
 that he said of any import. He then added, 
 " I wish you to take your dinner with me 
 to-day. There will be nobody with us, but 
 James Ballantyne, who will read you some- 
 thing new, and I wanted to ask you particu- 
 
172 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 larly about something which has escaped me 
 at this moment. Ay, it was this. Pray had 
 you any tradition on which you founded that 
 ridiculous story about the Hunt of Eildon 1 " 
 
 " Yes, I had," said I, " as far as the two 
 white hounds are concerned, and of the one 
 pulling the poisoned cup twice out of the 
 King's hand when it was at his lips." 
 
 " That is very extraordinary," said he, 
 " for the very first time I read it, it struck me 
 I had heard something of the same nature 
 before, but how or where I cannot compre- 
 hend. I think it must have been when I 
 was on the nurse's knee, or lying in the 
 cradle, yet I was sure I had heard it. It is a 
 very ridiculous story, that, Mr. Hogg. The 
 most ridiculous of any modern story I 
 ever read. What a pity it is that you are not 
 
SIR WALTER SOOTT. 173 
 
 master of your own capabilities, for that tale 
 might have been made a good one." 
 
 It was always the same on the publication 
 of any of my prose works. When The 
 Three Perils of Man appeared, he read me 
 a long lecture on my extravagance in 
 Demonology, and assured me I had ruined 
 one of the best tales in the world. It is 
 manifest, however, that the tale had made no 
 ordinary impression on him, as he subse- 
 quently copied the whole of the main plot 
 into his tale of Castle Dangerous. 
 
 Sir Walter's conversation was always 
 amusing, always interesting. There was a 
 conciseness, a candour and judiciousness in it 
 which never was equalled. His anecdotes 
 were without end, and I am almost certain 
 they were all made off-hand, for I never 
 
 heard one of them either before or after. His 
 15* 
 
174 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 were no Joe Miller's jokes. The only time 
 ever his conversation was to me perfectly un- 
 interesting, was with Mr. John Murray, of 
 Albemarle-street, London. Their whole con- 
 versation was about noblemen, parliamenters, 
 and literary men of all grades, none of which 
 I had ever heard of or cared about ; but every 
 one of which Mr. Murray seemed to know, 
 with all their characters, society, and propen- 
 sities. This information Sir Walter seemed 
 to drink in with as much zest as I did his 
 whiskey toddy, and this conversation was 
 carried on for two days and two nights, with 
 the exception of a few sleeping hours ; and 
 there I sat beside them, all the while, like a 
 perfect stump ; a sheep who never got in a 
 word, not even a bleat. I wish I had the 
 same opportunity again. 
 
 I first met with Sir Walter, at my own 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 175 
 
 cottage in the wilds of Ettrick Forest, as 
 above narrated, and I then spent two days 
 and two nights in his company. When we 
 parted, he shook my hand most heartily. 
 and invited me to his cottage on the banks 
 of the North Esk, above Lasswade. " By 
 all means come and see me," said he, " and 
 I will there introduce you to my wife. She 
 is a foreigner, as dark as a blackberry, and 
 does not speak the broad Scots so well as 
 you, and me, of course, I don't expect you to 
 admire her much, but I shall assure you of 
 a hearty welcome. 
 
 I went and visited him the first time 1 
 had occasion to be in Edinburgh, expecting 
 to see Mrs. Scott, a kind of half black-a- 
 moor, whom our SherrifT had married for a 
 great deal of money. I knew nothing about 
 her, and had never heard of her, save from 
 
176 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 his own description ; but the words, " as dark 
 as a blackberry," had fixed her colour in- 
 delibly on my mind. Judge of my astonish- 
 ment when I was introduced to one of the 
 most beautiful and handsome creatures, as 
 Mrs. Scott, whom I had ever seen in my 
 life. A brunette, certainly, with raven hair 
 and large black eyes, but in my estimation 
 a perfect beauty. I found her quite affable, 
 and she spoke English very well, save that 
 she put always the d for the th, and left the 
 aspiratidn of the h out altogether. She call- 
 ed me all her life, Mr. Og. I understood 
 perfectly well what she said, but, for many 
 years, I could not make her understand what 
 I said ; she had frequently to ask an explana- 
 tion from her husband, and I must say this 
 of Lady Scott, though it was well known 
 how jealous she was of the rank of Sir Wal- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 177 
 
 ter's visitors, yet I was all my life received 
 with the same kindness as if I had been a 
 relation or one of the family, although one 
 of his most homely daily associates. But 
 there were many others, both poets and play- 
 actors, whom she received with no very 
 pleasant countenance. Jeffrey and his sate- 
 lites she could not endure, and there was 
 none whom she disliked more than Brough- 
 am, for what reason I do not know, but I 
 have heard her misca' him terribly, as well as- 
 " dat body Jeffrey." It might be owing to some 
 reasons which I did not know about. After the 
 review of Marmion appeared, she never would 
 speak to Jeffrey again, for, though not a lady 
 who possessed great depth of penetration, she 
 knew how to appreciate the great powers of 
 her lord, from the begiuning, and despised all 
 those who ventured to depreciate them, 
 
178 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 I have heard Sir Walter, tell an anecdote of 
 this review of Marmion. As he and Jeffrey, 
 Southey, Curwin, and some other body, I 
 have forgotten who, were sailing on Derwent 
 water, at Keswick, in Cumberland, one fine 
 day, Mr. Jeffrey, to amuse the party, took 
 from his pocket the manuscript of the review 
 of Marmion, and read it throughout. This, 
 I think, was honest in Jeffrey, but the rest of 
 the company were astonished at his insolence, 
 and at some passages did not know where 
 to look. When he had finished, he said, 
 " Well, Scott, what think you it ? what shall 
 be done about it." "At all events, I have 
 taken my resolution what to do,'" said Scott, 
 "I'll just sink, the boat." The review was 
 a little modified after that. 
 
 But to return to Lady Scott, she is cradled 
 in my remembrance, and ever shall be as a 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 179 
 
 sweet, kind and affectionate creature. When 
 any of the cottagers or retainers about Ab- 
 botsford grew ill, they durst not tell her, as 
 it generally made her worse than the suffer- 
 ers, and I have heard of her groaning, and 
 occasionally weeping for a whole day and a 
 good part of the night, for an old tailor who 
 was dying, and leaving a small helpless fami- 
 ly behind him. Her daughter Anne, was very 
 like her, in the contour and expression of 
 her countenance. Who was Lady Scott 
 originally? I really wish anybody would tell 
 me, for surely somebody must know. There 
 is a veil of mystery hung over that dear 
 lady's birth and parentage, which I have 
 been unable to see through or lift up ; and 
 there have been more lies told to me about 
 it, and even published in all the papers of 
 Britain, by those who ought to have known 
 
180 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 than ever was told about those of any 
 woman that ever was born. I have, how- 
 ever, a few cogent reasons for believing that 
 the present Sir Walter's grandfather, was a 
 nobleman of very high rank. 
 
 Like other young authors, Sir Walter 
 was rather vain of his early production!?, and 
 liked to make them the subject of conversa- 
 tion. He recited Glenfinlas one day to me 
 on horseback, long before its publication. He 
 read me also, the Lay of the Last Minstrel, 
 from manuscript, at least, he and William 
 Erskine, (Lord Kineder,) and James Ballan- 
 tyne, read it, canto about. He always pre- 
 ferred their readings to his own. Not so with 
 me. I could always take both the poetry 
 and the story along with me, better from 
 his reading than any other body's whatso- 
 ever. Even with his deep-toned bass voice, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 181 
 
 and his Berwick burr, he was a far better 
 reader than he was sensible of. Every thing 
 that he read was like his discourse, it always 
 made an impression. He likewise read me 
 Marmion before it was published, but I think 
 it was then in the press, for a part of it, at 
 least, was read from proof slips and sheets 
 with corrections on the margin. The Mar- 
 mion manuscript was a great curiosity. I 
 wonder what became of it. It was all writ- 
 ten off-hand, in post letters, from Ashiesteel, 
 Mainsforth, Rokeby, and London. The 
 readings of Marmion began on his own part, 
 I had newly gone to Edinburgh, and knew 
 nothing about the work —had never heard of 
 it. But the next morning after my arrival, 
 on going to breakfast with him, he sought 
 out a proof sheet, and read me his descrip- 
 tion of my beloved St. Mary's Lake, in one 
 16 
 
182 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 of his introductions, I think to canto second, 
 to ask my opinion, as he said, of its correct- 
 ness, as he had never seen the scene but once. 
 I said, there never was any thing more 
 graphic written in this world ; and I still 
 adhere to the assertion, so it was no flattery ; 
 and I, being perfectly mad about poetry then, 
 begged of him to let me hear the canto that 
 followed that vivid description, expecting to 
 hear something more about my native moun- 
 tains. He was then, to humour me, obliged to 
 begin at the beginning of the poem, and that 
 day he read me the two first books. 
 
 That night my friends Grieve and Mori- 
 son, who were as great enthusiasts as my- 
 self, expressed themselves so bitterly at my 
 advantage over them, that the next morning 
 I took them both with me, and they heard 
 him read the two middle cantos, which I am 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 183 
 
 sure neither of them will ever forget. When 
 we came to the door, Morison said, "For 
 God's sake, Hogg, don't ring." 
 
 « What for," said I. 
 
 " Because I know there will be something 
 so terribly gruff about him, I dare not for my 
 soul go in," said he. 
 
 "You never were so far mistaken in your 
 life," said I, " Sir Walter's manner is just 
 kindness personified," and rung the bell. 
 
 When the Lady of the Lake was mostly, 
 or at least partly in manuscript, he said to 
 me one evening, " I am going to adventure 
 a poem on the public quite different from my 
 two last, perfectly different in its theme, style, 
 and measure." On which he took the 
 manuscript from his desk, and read me the 
 course of The Fiery Cross, and the Battle 
 of the Trosachs. I said, "I could not per- 
 
184 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 ceive any difference at all between the style 
 of that and his former poems, save that, be- 
 cause it was quite new to me, I thought it 
 rather better." He was not quite well pleas- 
 ed with the remark, and was just saying, I 
 would think differently when I had time to 
 peruse the whole poem, when Sir John Hope 
 came in, and I heard no more. 
 
 After that, he never read anything more 
 to me before publishing, save one ghost story. 
 His fame became so firmly established that 
 he cared not a fig for the opinions of his 
 literary friends, before hand. But there was 
 one forenoon he said to me in his study, I 
 have never durst venture upon a real ghost 
 story, Mr. Hogg, but you have published 
 some such thrilling ones of late, that I have 
 been this very day employed in writing one. 
 I assure you, "it's no little that gars auld 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 185 
 
 Donald pegh," but yon Lewis stories of yours 
 frightened me so much, that I could not 
 sleep, and now I have been trying my hand 
 on one, and here it is. He read it ; but it 
 did not make a great impression on me, for 
 I do not know, at this moment, not having 
 his works by me, where it is published. It 
 was about the ghost of a lady, and, I think, 
 appeared in the Abbot or Monastery. He 
 read me also a humorous poem in manu- 
 script, which has never been published that 
 I know of. It was something about finding 
 out the happiest man, and making him a 
 present of a new holland shirt. Paddy got 
 it, who had never known the good of a 
 shirt. Mr. Scott asked me what I thought 
 of it. I said, the characters of the various 
 nations were exquisitely hit off, but I thought 
 
 the winding-up was not so effective as it 
 16* 
 
186 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 might have been made. He said he believed 
 I was perfectly right. I never heard what 
 became of that poem, or whether it was ever 
 published or not, for living in the wilderness, 
 as I have done, for the last twenty years, I 
 know very little of what is going on in the 
 literary world. One of Sir Walter's repre- 
 sentatives has taken it upon him to assert, 
 that Sir Walter always held me in the lowest 
 contempt ! He never was farther wrong in 
 his life, but Sir Walter would still have been 
 farther wrong if he had done so. Of that, 
 posterity will judge: but I assure that indi- 
 vidual, that there never was a gentleman in 
 the world, who paid more respect or attention 
 to a friend, than Sir Walter did to me, for 
 the space of the thirty years that we were 
 acquainted. True, he sometimes found fault 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 187 
 
 with me, but in that there was more kind- 
 ness than all the rest. 
 
 I must confess, that, before people of high 
 rank, he did not much encourage my 
 speeches and stories. He did not then hang 
 down his brows, as when he was ill-pleased 
 with me, but he raised them up and glower- 
 ed, and put his upper lip far over the under 
 one, seeming to be always terrified at what 
 was to come out next, and then he generally 
 cut me short, by some droll anecdote, to the 
 same purport of what 1 was saying. In this 
 he did not give me fair justice, for, in my 
 own broad homely way, I am a very good 
 speaker, and teller of a story too. 
 
 Mrs. Hogg, was a favourite of his. He 
 always paid the greatest deference and atten- 
 tion to her. When we were married, I, of 
 course, took her down to Abbots ford, and 
 
188 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 introduced her, and though the company was 
 numerous, he did her the honour of leading 
 her into the dining-room and placing her by 
 his side. When the ladies retired, he, before 
 all our mutual friends present, testified 
 himself highly pleased with my choice, and 
 added, that he wondered how I had the good 
 sense and prudence to make such a one, " I 
 dinna thank ye at a' for the compliment, Sir 
 Walter," said I. 
 
 As for her, poor woman, she perfectly 
 adored him. There was one day, when he 
 was dining with us at Mount Benger. on 
 going away, he snatched up my little daugh- 
 ter, Margaret Laidlaw, and kissed her. and 
 then laying his hand on her head, said, 
 ' : God Almighty bless you, my dear child !" 
 on which my wife burst into tears. On my 
 coming back from seeing him into the car- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 189 
 
 riage, that stood at the base of the hill. I 
 said, " What ailed you, Margaret ?" 
 
 "0," said she, "I thought if he had but 
 just done the same to them all, I do not know 
 what in the world I would not have given !" 
 
 There was another year previous to that, 
 when he was dining with me at the same 
 place, he rf took a great deal of notice of 
 my only son, James, trying to find out 
 what was in him, by a number of simple 
 questions, not one of which James would 
 answer. He then asked me anent the boy's 
 capabilities. I said he was a very amiable 
 and affectionate boy, but I was afraid he 
 would never be the Cooper of Fogo, for he 
 seemed to be blest with a very thick head. 
 iC Why, but Mr. Hogg, you know, it is not 
 fair to lay the saddle upon a foal," said he, "I, 
 for my part, never liked precocity of genius all 
 
190 FAMILAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 my life, and can venture to predict, that 
 James will yet turn out an honour to you 
 and all your kin." I was gratified by the pre- 
 diction, and lost not a word of it. 
 
 The boy had at that time taken a par- 
 ticular passion for knives, particularly for 
 large ones, and to amuse him Sir Walter 
 shewed him a very large gardener's knife, 
 which he had in his pocket, which contained 
 a saw, but I never regarded it, and would 
 not have known it the next day. James, 
 however, never forgot it, and never has to this 
 day, and I should like very well, if that knife 
 is still to be found, that James should have 
 it as a keepsake of his father's warmest and 
 most esteemed friend. Col. Ferguson, per- 
 ceiving the boy's ruling passion, made him a 
 present of a handsome, two-bladed knife. 
 But that made no impression on James. Col 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 191 
 
 Ferguson he forgot the next day, but Sir 
 Walter he never forgot till he came back 
 again, always denominating him, " The man 
 wi' the gude knife." 
 
 The last time Margaret saw him, was at 
 his own house in Maitland-street, a very short 
 time before he finally left it. We were pass- 
 ing from Charlotte-square to make a call in 
 Lawreston, when I said, "see, yon is Sir 
 Walter's house, at yon red lamp." "O let 
 me go in and see him once more ! " said 
 she. 
 
 "No, no, Margaret," said I, "you know 
 how little time we have, and it would be 
 too bad to intrude on his hours of quiet and 
 study at this time of the day." " 0, but I 
 must go in," said she, " and get a shake 
 of his kind, honest hand once more. I can- 
 not go by." So I, knowing that 
 
192 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 "Nought's to be won at woman's hand 
 Unless ye gie her a' the plea," 
 
 was obliged to comply. In we went, and 
 were received with all the affection of old 
 friends, but his whole discourse was addressed 
 to my wife, while I was left to shift for my- 
 self among books and newspapers. He talk- 
 ed to her of our family, and of our prospects 
 of being able to give them a good education, 
 which he recommended at every risk, and 
 at every sacrifice. He talked to her of his 
 own family one by one, and of Mr. Lock- 
 hart's family, giving her a melancholy ac- 
 count of little Hugh John Lockhart, (the cele- 
 brated Hugh Little- John,) who was a great 
 favourite of his, but whom, as he said that 
 day, he despaired of ever seeing reach man- 
 hood. 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 193 
 
 The only exchange of words I got with 
 him during that short visit, which did not 
 extend to the space of an hour, was of a 
 very important nature indeed. In order to 
 attract his attention from my wife, to one, 
 who, I thought, as well deserved it, I went 
 close up to him with a scrutinizing look, 
 and said, li Gudeness guide us, Sir Walter, 
 but ye hae gotten a braw gown!" On 
 which he laughed and said, "I got it made 
 for me in Paris, (such a year,) when cer- 
 tain great personages chose to call on me of 
 a morning, and I never thought of putting 
 it on since, until the day before yesterday 
 on finding that my every-day one had been 
 sent to Abbotsford. But I shall always think 
 the more highly of my braw gown, Mr. 
 Hogg, for your notice of it." I think it was 
 
 made of black twilled satin and lined. 
 17 
 
194 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 But to return to some general anecdotes 
 with which I could fill volumes. When I 
 first projected my literary paper, the spy, I 
 went and consulted him, as I generally did 
 in every thing regarding literature. He 
 shook his head, and let fall his heavy eye- 
 brows, but said nothing. The upper lip 
 came particularly far down. I did not like 
 these prognostics at all ; so I was obliged to 
 broach the subject again, without having re- 
 ceived one word in answer. 
 
 " Do you not think it rather dangerous 
 ground, to take after Addison, Johnson, and 
 Henry M'Kenzie V said he. 
 
 "No a bit ! " said I, "I'm no the least feared 
 for that. My papers may not be sae yele- 
 gant as theirs, but I expect to make them 
 mair original." 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 195 
 
 "Yes, they will certainly be original 
 enough, with a vengeance ! " said he. 
 
 I asked him if he thought three-pence 
 would be a remunerating price? He an- 
 swered. w4th very heavy brows, that, " taking 
 the extent of the sale into proper calculation, 
 he suspected she must be a fourpenny cut." 
 He said this with a sneer which I never 
 could forget. I asked him if he would lend 
 me his assistance in it ? He said he would 
 first see how I came on, and if he saw the 
 least prospect of my success, he would sup- 
 port me, and with this answer I was obliged 
 to be content. He only sent me one letter 
 for the work, enclosing two poems of Ley- 
 dens. He was, however, right in discour- 
 aging it, and I was wrong in adventuring it. 
 I never knew him wrong in any of his calcu- 
 lations or inhibitions but once, and then I am 
 
196 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 sure my countrymen will join with me in 
 saying that he was wrong. He wrote to 
 me once when I was living in Nithsdale, 
 informing me that he was going to pur- 
 chase the estate of Broad meadows, on Yar- 
 row. That he was the highest offerer and 
 was, he believed, sure of getting it, and that 
 he had offered half and more on my account 
 that I might be his chief Shepherd, and 
 manager of all his rural affairs. The plan 
 misgave. Mr. Boyd overbid him and became 
 the purchaser, on which Sir Walter was so 
 vexed on my account, I having kept myself 
 out of a place, depending upon his, that he 
 actually engaged me to Lord Porchester, as 
 his chief Shepherd, where I was to have a 
 handsome house, a good horse, a small pen- 
 dicle, rent free, and twenty pounds a year. 
 I approved of the conditions as more than I 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 197 
 
 expected or was entitled to, only they were 
 given with this proviso, that, " I was to put 
 my poetical talent under lock and key for- 
 ever ! " I have the letter. Does any body 
 think Sir Walter was right there ? I can't 
 believe it, and I am sure my friend the 
 present Lord Porchester, would have been 
 the last man to have exacted such a stipula- 
 tion. I spurned the terms, and refused to 
 implement the bargain. This is the circum- 
 stance alluded to in the Q,ueen's Wake, as a 
 reflection on Walter the Abbot, which I think 
 it proper to copy here, to save researches for 
 an extract, where it may be impossible to 
 find it. It alludes to the magic harp of 
 Ettrick banks, and Yarrow braes. 
 
 "The day arrived, blest be the day; 
 Walter the Abbot came that way, 
 
 17* 
 
198 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 The sacred relic met his view, 
 
 Ah ! well the pledge of heaven he knew ! 
 
 He screwed the chords, he tried a strain, 
 
 'Twas wild — he tuned and tried again. 
 
 Then pour'd the numbers, bold and free,, 
 
 The ancient magic melody. 
 
 The land was charm'd to list his lays. 
 
 It knew the harp of ancient days. 
 
 The Border Chiefs, that long had been 
 
 In sepulchres, unhearsed and green, 
 
 Pass'd from their mouldy vaults away 
 
 In armour red and stern array. 
 
 And by their moonlight halls were seen, 
 
 In vizor, helm, and habergeon. 
 
 Even fairies sought our land again, 
 
 So powerful was the magic strain. 
 
 Blest be his generous heart, for ay, 
 He told me where the relic lay, 
 Pointed my way with ready will 
 Afar on Ettrick's wildest hill; 
 Watch'd my first notes with curious eye ? 
 And wonder'd at my minstrelsy. 
 
 ' 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 199 
 
 He little weened a parent's tongue 
 Such strains had o'er my cradle sung ! 
 O, could the bard I loved so long 
 Reprove my fond aspiring song? 
 Or could his tongue of candour say 
 That I should throw my harp away ; 
 Just when her notes began with skill 
 To sound beneath the Southern hill, 
 And twine around my bosom's core. 
 How could we part for evermore ? 
 'Twas kindness all, — I cannot blame, 
 For bootless is the minstrel flame. 
 But sure a bard might well have known 
 Another's feelings by his own ! 
 
 GIueen's Wake. 6th edit. p. 336-7. 
 
 I never knew any gentleman so shy and 
 chary of his name and interest as Sir Walter 
 was, and though I know Allan Cunningham 
 and Captain J. G. Burns will not join me in 
 this. "Let every man roose the ford as he 
 
200 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 finds it." He never would do any thing for me 
 in that, save by the honour of his undeviat- 
 ing friendship and genuine good advices, both 
 of which were of great value to me, insuring 
 me a welcome among all the genteel com- 
 pany of the kingdom, and the other tend- 
 ing greatly to guide my path in a sphere 
 with which I was entirely unacquainted, and 
 these I set a high value on. But he would 
 never bring me forward in any way but the 
 shortest literary remark in any periodical. 
 Never would review any of my works, al- 
 though he once promised to do it. No, he 
 did not promise ; he only said before several 
 friends, to whom he had been speaking very 
 highly of the work, that he was thinking of 
 doing it. But seeing, I suppose, that the 
 poem did not take so well as he had anti- 
 cipated, he never accomplished his kind 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 201 
 
 intent. I asked him, the following year, 
 why he had not fulfilled his promise to me. 
 
 " Why the truth is, Hogg," said he, 
 " that I began the thing, and took a number 
 of notes, marking extracts, but I found, that, 
 to give a proper view of your poetical pro- 
 gress and character, I was under the neces- 
 sity of beginning with the ballads, and 
 following through The Wake and all the 
 rest, and, upon the whole, I felt that we 
 were so much of the same school, that, if I 
 had said of you as I wished to say, I would 
 have been thought by the world to be ap- 
 plauding myself." 
 
 I cannot aver that these were Sir Wal- 
 ter's very words, but they were precisely to 
 that purport. But I, like other disappointed 
 men, not being by half satisfied with the 
 answer, said, " Dear Sir Walter, ye can never 
 
202 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 suppose that I belang to your school o' chi- 
 valry ? Ye are the king o' that school, but 
 I'm the king o' the mountain and fairy 
 school, which is a far higher ane nor yours." 
 
 He rather hung down his brows, and 
 said, " The higher the attempt to ascend, the 
 greater might be the fall ; " and changed the 
 subject, by quoting the saying of some old 
 English Baronet in a fox-chase. 
 
 He paid two high compliments to me, 
 without knowing of either, and although 
 some other person should have related these 
 rather than me, I cannot refrain from it. 
 One of them was derogatory to himself too, 
 a thing which a young poet is not very apt 
 to publish. He was, he said, quarter-master 
 to the Edinburgh gentlemen-cavalry, and 
 composed a song for the corps,, got a friend to 
 learn it and sing it at the mess, but it did 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 203 
 
 not take very well. At length a Mr. Robert- 
 son got up and said, '•' Come, come, that's but 
 a drool of a song. Let us have Donald 
 M'Donald." On which Donald M'Donald 
 was struck up, and was joined in with such 
 glee that all the mess got up, joined hands, 
 and danced round the table, and, added 
 Scott, " I joined the ring too and danced as 
 well as I could, and there were four chaps, 
 all of the clan Donachie, who got so elevated 
 that they got upon the top of the table and 
 danced a highland reel to the song." He did 
 not know it was mine until after he had 
 told the anecdote, when I said, " Dear man, 
 that sang's mine, and was written sax or 
 seven years bygane. I wonder ye didna ken 
 that." 
 
 There was another day, as we were walk- 
 ing round the north side of St. Andrew's 
 
204 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 Square, to call on Sir C. Sharpe in York 
 Place, he said to me, laughing very heartily, 
 " I found Ballantyne in a fine quandary yes- 
 terday, as I called on leaving the Parliament- 
 house. He was standing behind his desk, 
 actually staring, and his mouth quite open. 
 •I am glad you have come in, Mr. Scott,' said 
 he, c to tell me if you think I am in my right 
 senses, to-day, or that I am in a dream ? ' 
 c O, it is quite manifest, from the question, 
 that you are not in your right senses ! ' said 
 I, { what is the matter ? ' f Here is a poem 
 sent me by Mr. Gillies, to publish in a work 
 of his,' said he, ' It is in his own hand- 
 writing, and the gradation of the ascent is so 
 regular and well-managed, that I am bound 
 to believe it is his. Well, before, you came 
 in, I read and read on, in these two proofs, 
 until at last I said to myself, Good Lord, is 
 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 205 
 
 this the poetry of Mr. Gillies that I am read- 
 ing ? I must be asleep and dreaming. And 
 then I bit my little finger, to prove if I was 
 not asleep, and I thought I was not. But 
 sit down and judge for yourself.' 
 
 " So James read the poem to me from be- 
 ginning to end," continued he, " and then 
 said, • Now, what think you of this?' ' The 
 only thing that I can say,' said I, \ is, that the 
 former part of the poem is very like the 
 writing of a eunuch, and the latter part like 
 that of a man. The style is altogether un- 
 known to me, but Mr. Gillies' it cannot be."' 
 I was sorry I durst not inform him it was 
 mine, for it had been previously agreed be- 
 tween Mr. Gillies and me, that no one should 
 know. It was a blank verse poem, but I 
 have entirely forgotten what it was about ; 
 
 the latter half only was mine. 
 18 
 
206 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 " ' So you say that the poetry is not the 
 composition of Mr. Gillies V said James. 
 
 " ' Yes, I do, positively. The thing is 
 impossible.' 
 
 " { Well, sir. I can take your word for 
 that ; and I have not lost my senses, nor am 
 I dreaming at all.' " 
 
 There was one day that I met with him 
 on the North Bridge, on his return from the 
 Court of Session, when he took my arm, 
 and said, " Come along with me, Hogg, 
 I want to introduce you to a real brownie, 
 one who does a great deal of work for me, for 
 which I am paid rather liberally." I accom- 
 panied him in one of the register offices, 
 where a good-looking, little, spruce fellow, his 
 deputy clerk, I suppose, produced papers, 
 bunch after bunch, to the amount of some hun- 
 dreds, all of which he signed with W. Scott, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 207 
 
 laughing and chatting with me all the while. 
 We then took a walk round the Calton Hill, 
 till dinner time, when I went home with 
 him and met Ballantyne and Terry. I 
 think it was on that day, for it was during a 
 walk round the Calton Hill, and I never en- 
 joyed that pleasure with him but twice in 
 my life, that we were discussing the merits of 
 his several poems. The Lady of the Lake 
 had had an unprecedented run previous to 
 that, and as it was really my favourite, I was 
 extolling it highly, assured that I was going 
 on safe ground, but I found that he preferred 
 Marmion, and said something to the follow- 
 ing effect, That the Lady of the Lake would 
 always be the favourite with ladies and peo- 
 ple who read merely for amusement, but that 
 Marmion would have the preference by real 
 judges of poetry. I have heard people of 
 
208 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 the first discernment express the same 
 opinion since. For me, I think in the Lady 
 of the Lake, he reached his acme in poetry : 
 for, in fact, the whole both of his poetry 
 and prose have always appeared to me, as 
 two splendid arches, of which the Lady of 
 the Lake is the key-stone of the one, and 
 Guy Mannering and Old Mortality the joint 
 key-stones of the other. I should like very 
 well to write a review of his whole works, 
 but that is quite out of my way at present. 
 
 The only other walk that I ever got 
 with him round the Calton Hill was several 
 years subsequent to that. At that time I did 
 not believe that he was the author of the cele- 
 brated novels, for Johny Ballantyne had 
 fairly sworn me out of my original fixed 
 belief, so I began about them very freely, and 
 he did the same, laughing heartily at some 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 209 
 
 of the jokes, and often standing still and sit- 
 ting down, and telling me where he thought 
 the author had succeeded best and where 
 least, and there were some places where he 
 did not scruple to say he had failed altcn 
 gether. He never tried to defend any pas- 
 sage when it was attacked, but generally 
 laughed at the remarks. 
 
 There cannot be a better trait of Sir 
 Walter's character than this, that all who 
 knew him intimately, loved him ; nay, many 
 of them almost worshipped him. The affec- 
 tion and subservience of the two Messrs. 
 Ballantyne far surpassed description. They 
 were entrusted with all his secrets, and all 
 his transactions, and faithful to the last, and 
 I know, that had he taken some most serious 
 advices which James gave him, he never 
 
 would have been involved as he was. In 
 
 18* 
 
210 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 James he always reposed the most implicit 
 confidence. John he likewise trusted with 
 every thing, and loved him as a wayward 
 brother, but he often broke a joke at his ex- 
 pense. There was one day, I was telling 
 the Sherriff some great secret about the 
 author of a certain work or article, I have 
 quite forgot what it was, when he said, " I 
 suspect you are widely misinformed there, 
 Mr. Hogg, for I think I know the author to 
 be a very different person." 
 
 " Na, na, Mr. Scott, you are clean 
 wrang," said I, "for Johny Ballantyne 
 tauld me, an' he coudna but ken." 
 
 "Ay, but ye should hae ascertained 
 whether it was leeing Johny or true Johny 
 who told you that, before you avouched it ; 
 for they are two as different persons as exist 
 on the face of the earth." said he. " Had 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 211 
 
 James told you so, you might have averred 
 it, for James never diverges from the right- 
 forward truth." As Mr. Southey once told 
 me the very same thing, I think I am at 
 liberty to publish the sentiments of two such 
 eminent men, of the amiable deceased. 
 James was a man of pomp and circumstance, 
 but he had a good and affectionate heart. It 
 was too good and too kind for this world, and 
 the loss first of his lady, and then of his 
 great patron and friend, broke it, and he fol- 
 lowed him instantly to the land of forgetful- 
 ness. How strange it is that all connected 
 with those celebrated novels have been 
 hunted off the stage of time as it were to- 
 gether ! The publisher, the author, the two 
 printers, and, last of all, the corrector of the 
 press, the honest and indefatigable Daniel 
 M'Corkindale, — all gone ! and none to tell 
 
212 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 the secrets of that faithful and devoted little 
 community. 
 
 There was no man knew Scott so well 
 as James Ballantyne, and I certainly never 
 knew a man admire and revere a friend and 
 patron so much. If any person ventured to 
 compare other modern productions with those 
 of Scott, he stared with astonishment, and 
 took it as a personal insult to himself. There 
 was one time, that, in my usual rash, for- 
 ward way, I said, that Miss Ferrier's novels 
 were better than Sir Walter's. James drew 
 himself up ; I wish any reader of this had 
 seen his looks of utter astonishment, for he 
 was always a sort of actor, James, "What 
 do I hear ? what do I hear ? " cried he, with 
 prodigious emphasis, "is it possible that I 
 hear, sir, such a sentiment drop from your 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 213 
 
 lips?" I was obliged to burst out a-laughing 
 and run away. 
 
 Sir Walter's attached and devoted friends 
 were without number, but William Erskine 
 and James Ballantyne were his constant and 
 daily associates. It is a pity that Ballantyne 
 had not left a written character of him, for 
 he could and would have done him justice. 
 But the interesting part of their corres- 
 pondence will soon all come to light in Lock- 
 hart's life of his illustrious father-in-law. He 
 was the only one I ever knew whom no 
 man, either poor or rich, held at ill-will. 
 I was the only exception myself, that ever 
 came to my knowledge, but that was only 
 for a short season, and all the while it never 
 lessened his interest in my welfare. I found 
 that he went uniformly on one system. If he 
 could do good to any one, he would do it, but 
 
214 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 he would do harm to no man. He never 
 resented a literary attack, however virulent, 
 of which there were some at first, but always 
 laughed at them. This showed a superiority 
 of mind and greatness of soul which no other 
 young author is capable of. He never retaliat- 
 ed, but trusted to his genius to overcome all, 
 and it was not on a bruised reed that he leaned. 
 Although so shy of his name and literary 
 assistance, which, indeed, he would not grant 
 to any one, on any account, save to Lockhart, 
 yet to poor men of literary merit, his purse- 
 strings were always open, as far as it was in 
 his power to assist them. I actually knew 
 several unsuccessful authors who for years de- 
 pended on his bounty for their daily bread. 
 And then there was a delicacy in his way of do- 
 ing it, which was quite admirable. He gave 
 them some old papers or old ballads to copy 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 215 
 
 for him, pretending to be greatly interested in 
 them, for which he sent them a supply every 
 week, making them believe that they were 
 reaping the genuine fruit of their own 
 labours. 
 
 There was one day, when I was chatting 
 with Ballantyne in his office, where I was 
 generally a daily visitor, as well as my illus- 
 trious friend, I chanced to say, that I never 
 in my life knew a man like Scott, for that I 
 knew to a certainty, he was at that time, 
 feeling himself a successful author, lending 
 pecuniary assistance to very many unsuccess- 
 ful ones, and the best thing of all, he never 
 let his left hand know, what his right hand 
 was doing. 
 
 Ballantyne's face glowed with delight and 
 the tear stood in his eye, " You never were 
 more right in your life," said he, " you never 
 
216 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 were more right in your life ! and I am glad 
 that you know and so duly appreciate the 
 merits of our noble, our invaluable friend. 
 Look here," and with that he turned up his 
 day-book, and added, " some word it seems 
 had reached Scott, that Maturin, the Irish poet, 
 was lying in prison for a small debt, and here 
 have I, by Mr. Scott's orders, been obliged to 
 transmit him a bill of exchange for sixty 
 pounds, and Maturin is never to know from 
 whom or whence it came." I have said it 
 oft, and now say it again for the last time, 
 that those who knew Scott only from the few 
 hundreds, or I might say, hundreds of thou- 
 sands of volumes to which he has given birth 
 and circulation through the world, knew only 
 one-half of the man and that not the best 
 half either. As a friend, he was some- 
 times stern, but always candid and sincere, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 217 
 
 and I always found his counsels of the high- 
 est value, if I could have followed them. I 
 was indebted to him for the most happy and 
 splendid piece of humorous ballad poetry 
 which I ever wrote. He said to me one day, 
 after dinner, " It was but very lately, Mr. 
 Hogg, that I was drawn by our friend Kirk- 
 patrick Sharpe to note the merits of your bal- 
 lad, The Witch of Fife. There never was 
 such a thing written for genuine and ludi- 
 crous humour, but why in the name of won- 
 der did you suffer the gude auld man to be 
 burnt skin and bone by the English at Car- 
 lisle? (for, in the first and second editions, 
 that was the issue.) I never saw a piece of 
 such bad taste in all my life. What had the 
 poor old carl done to deserve such a fate? 
 Only taken a drappy o' drink too much, at 
 
 another man's expense ; which you and I 
 19 
 
218 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 have done often. It is a finale which I can- 
 not bear, and you must bring off the old 
 man, by some means or other, no matter 
 how extravagant or ridiculous in such a 
 ballad as yours ; but by all means bring off 
 the fine old fellow, for the present termination 
 of the ballad is one which I cannot brook." 
 I went home, and certainly brought off the 
 old man with flying colours, which is by far 
 the best part of the ballad. I never adopted 
 a suggestion of his, either in prose or verse, 
 which did not improve the subject. He 
 knew mankind well. He knew the way to 
 the human heart, and he certainly had the 
 art of leading the taste of an empire, I may 
 say, of a world, above all men that ever 
 existed. As long as Sir Walter Scott wrote 
 poetry, there was neither man nor woman 
 ever thought of either reading or writing any 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 219 
 
 thing but poetry. But the instant that he 
 gave over writing poetry, there was neither 
 man nor woman ever read it more ! All 
 turned to tales and novels, which I, among 
 others, was reluctantly obliged to do. Yes, I. 
 was obliged, from the tide, the irresistible 
 current that followed him, to forego the talent 
 which God had given me at my birth, and 
 enter into a new sphere with which I had 
 no acquaintance. The world of imagination 
 had been opened wide to me, but the world 
 of real life I knew nothing of. Sir Walter 
 knew it, in all its shades and gradations, and 
 could appreciate any singular character at 
 once. He had a clear head, as well as a 
 benevolent heart ; was a good man ; an 
 anxiously kind husband ; an indulgent pa- 
 rent ; and a sincere, forgiving friend ; a just 
 judge, and a punctual correspondent. I be- 
 
220 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 lieve that he answered every letter sent to 
 him, either from rich or poor, and generally 
 not very shortly. Such is the man we have 
 lost and such a man we shall never see 
 again. He was truly an extraordinary man ; 
 — the greatest man in the world. What are 
 kings or emperors compared with him? 
 Dust and sand ! And, unless when con- 
 nected with literary men, the greater part of 
 their names either not remembered at all, or 
 only remembered with detestation. But here 
 is a name, which, next to that of William 
 Shakspeare, will descend with rapt admira- 
 tion to all the ages of futurity. And is it not 
 a proud boast for an old shepherd, that, for 
 thirty years, he could call this man friend, 
 and associate with him every day and hour 
 that he chose ? 
 
 Yes, it is my proudest boast. Sir Walter 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 221 
 
 sought me out in the wilderness, and attach- 
 ed himself to me before I had ever seen 
 him, although I took cross fits with him, his 
 interest in me never subsided for one day or 
 one moment. He never scrupled to let me 
 know that I behoved to depend entirely on 
 myself for my success in life, but at the same 
 time, always assured me that I had talents to 
 ensure that success, if properly applied and 
 not suffered to run to waste. I was always 
 received in his house like a brother, and 
 he visited me on the same familiar footing. 
 I never went into the inner house of Parlia- 
 ment, where he sat, on which he did not rise 
 and come to me, and conduct me to a seat 
 in some corner of the outer house, where he 
 would sit with me two or three minutes. 
 I am sorry to think that any of his relations 
 
 should entertain an idea that Sir Walter un- 
 19* 
 
222 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 der valued me, for of all men I ever met with, 
 not excepting the noblemen and gentlemen 
 in London, there never was a gentleman paid 
 more deference to me than Sir Walter ; and 
 although many of my anecdotes are homely 
 and common-place ones, I am sure there is 
 not a man in Scotland who appreciates his 
 value more highly or reveres his memory 
 more. 
 
 With regard to his family, I have not 
 much say, for I know but little. Sophia was 
 a baby, when I first visited him, about two 
 or three months old, and I have watched her 
 progress ever since. By the time she had 
 passed beyond the years of infancy, I per- 
 ceived that she was formed to be the darling 
 of such a father's heart, and so it proved. 
 She was a pure child of nature, without the 
 smallest particle of sophistication in her 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 223 
 
 whole composition. And then, she loved her 
 father so. O ! how dearly she loved him ! 
 I shall never forget the looks of affection that 
 she would throw up to him as he stood lean- 
 ing on his crutch, and hanging over her at 
 the harp, as she chaunted to him his favourite 
 old Border Ballads, or his own wild Highland 
 gatherings. Whenever he came into a room 
 where she was, her countenance altered, and 
 she often could not refrain from involuntary 
 laughter. She is long ago a wife and 
 mother herself, but I am certain she will 
 always cherish the memory of the most affec- 
 tionate of fathers. 
 
 Walter is a fine manly, gentlemanly fel- 
 low, without pride or affectation, but without 
 the least spark of his father's genius that I 
 ever could discern, and for all the literary com- 
 pany that he mixed with daily in his youth, 
 
224 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 he seemed always to hold literature, arid 
 poetry in particular, in very low estimation. 
 He was terribly cast down at his father's 
 death. I never saw a face of such misery 
 and dejection, and though I liked to see it, 
 yet I could not help shedding tears on con- 
 templating his features, thinking of the jewel 
 that had fallen from his crown. 
 
 I always considered Anne, as the cleverest 
 of the family ; shrewd, sensible, and discern- 
 ing, but I believe a little of a satirist, for I 
 know that when a mere girl, her associates 
 were terrified for her. Charles is a queer 
 chap, and will either make a spoon or spoil 
 a good horn. 
 
 Of Lockhart's genius and capabilities, 
 Sir Walter always spoke with the greatest 
 enthusiasm, more than I thought he deserv- 
 ed, for I knew him a great deal better than 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 225 
 
 Sir Walter did, and whatever Lockhart may 
 pretend, I knew Sir Walter a thousand times 
 better than he did. There is no man now 
 living who knew Scott's character so tho- 
 roughly in all its bearings as William Laid- 
 law did. He was his land steward, his 
 amanuensis, and managed the whole of his 
 rural concerns and improvements, for the 
 period of twenty years, and sorry am I that 
 the present Sir Walter did not find it meet 
 to keep Laidlaw on the estate, for without 
 him, that dear-bought and classical property 
 will be like a carcase without a head. Laid- 
 law's head made it. He knows the value of 
 every acre of land on it to a tithe, and of 
 every tree in the forest, with the characters 
 of all the neighbours and retainers. He was 
 to be sure a subordinate, but Sir Walter 
 always treated him as a friend, inviting Mrs, 
 
226 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 Laidlaw and him down to every party where 
 there was any body he thought Laidlaw 
 would like to meet, and Sir Walter called on 
 Mrs. Laidlaw once or twice every day when 
 he was in the country. I have seen him 
 often pop in to his breakfast and take his salt 
 herring and tea with us there, with as much 
 ease and good humour, as if he had come 
 into his brother's house. He once said to 
 me as we were walking out about Abbotslee. 
 and I was so much interested in the speech 
 that I am sure I can indite it word by word, 
 for Laidlaw was one of my earliest and dear- 
 est friends. 
 
 '•Was it not an extraordinary chance for me 
 that threw Laidlaw into my hands '? Without 
 Laidlaw's head I could have done nothing, 
 and to him alone I am indebted for all these 
 improvements. I never found a mind so 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 227 
 
 inexhaustible as Laidlaw's. I have met 
 with many of the greatest men of our coun- 
 try, but uniformly found, that, after sounding 
 them on one or two subjects, there their in- 
 formation terminated. But with the worst of 
 all manners of expression, Laidlaw's mind is 
 inexhaustible. Its resources seem to be with- 
 out end. Every day, every hour, he has 
 something new, either of theory or experi- 
 ment, and he sometimes abuses me like a 
 tinker because I refuse to follow up his in- 
 sinuations." 
 
 Another day he said to me, " You know 
 I recommended your friend Laidlaw, last 
 year to Lord Mansfield as his factor, but was 
 obliged to withdraw my recommendation and 
 give his lordship a hint to relinquish his 
 choice. For in the first place I was afraid 
 that Laidlaw's precarious health might unfit 
 
228 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 him for such a responsible situation ; and 
 more than that, I found that I could not 
 live without him, and was obliged, maugre 
 all misfortunes, to replace him in his old situa- 
 tion," I therefore wish, from my heart and 
 soul, that matters could have been so arrang- 
 ed, that Laidlaw should not have been sepa- 
 rated from Abbotsford; for though my own 
 brother has long had and still has a high 
 responsibility as Shepherd and superintendent 
 of the enclosures, I cannot see how the man- 
 agement of the estate can go on without 
 Laidlaw. Under the law agents it will both 
 cost more and go to ruin, and I say again, 
 without Laidlaw, that grand classical estate 
 is a carcase without a head. 
 
 Whenever Sir Walter spoke of either of 
 his two sons, which he frequently did, it was 
 always in a jocular way, to raise a laugh at 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 229 
 
 their expense. His description of Walter, 
 when he led in Mrs. Lockhart a bride, with 
 his false mustachios and w T hiskers, was a 
 source of endless amusement to him. He 
 was likewise wont often to quote some of 
 Charles's wise sayings, which, in the way that 
 he told them, never failed to set the table in 
 a roar of laughter. 
 
 Sir Walter had his caprices like other 
 men, and when in poor health was particu- 
 larly cross, but I always found his heart in 
 the right place, and that he had all the 
 native feelings and generosity of a man of 
 true genius. I am ashamed to confess that 
 his feelings for individual misfortune, were 
 far more intense than my own. There was 
 one day that I went in to breakfast with 
 him as usual, when he said to me with eyes 
 
 20 
 
230 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 perfectly staring, " Good Heaven ! Hogg, have 
 you heard what has happened ? " 
 
 " Na, na that I ken o', what is it that ye 
 allude to, Mr. Scott?" 
 
 " That our poor friend Irving has cut 
 his throat last night or this morning, and is 
 dead." 
 
 C; O, ay ! I heard o' that," said I, with a 
 
 coldness that displeased him. "But I never 
 
 t 
 
 heedit it, for the truth is that Irving was 
 joost like the Englishman's riddle ; the warst 
 fault that he had, he was useless. Irving 
 could never have done any good either for 
 himself, his family, or any other leevin' crea- 
 ture." 
 
 " I don't know, Mr. Hogg, what that poor 
 fellow might have done, with encouragement. 
 This you must at least acknowledge, that if 
 he did not write genuine poetry, he came 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 231 
 
 the nearest to it of any man that ever failed." 
 These were Sir Walter's very words, and I 
 record them in memory of the hapless victim 
 of despair and disappointed literary ambition. 
 He farther added, " For me, his melancholy 
 fate has impressed me so deeply, and derang- 
 ed me so much, that it will be long before 
 I can attend to anything again." 
 
 He abhorred all sorts of low vices and 
 blackguardism with a perfect detestation. 
 There was one Sunday when he was riding 
 down Yarrow, in his carriage, attended by 
 several gentlemen on horseback, and I being 
 among them went up to the carriage door, 
 and he being our Sheriff, I stated to him 
 with the deepest concern that there was at 
 that moment a cry of murder from the 
 Broadmeadows wood, and that Will Wather- 
 ston was murdering Davie Brunton. "Never 
 
232 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 you regard that, Hogg," said he, with rather 
 a stern air, and without a smile on his coun- 
 tenance. "If Will Watherston murders 
 Davie Brunton, and be hanged for the crime, 
 it is the best thing that can befal to the 
 parish — drive on, Peter." 
 
 He was no great favourer of sects, and 
 seldom or never went to church. He was a 
 complete and finished aristocrat, and the 
 prosperity of the state was his great concern, 
 which prosperity he deemed lost unless both 
 example and precept flowed by regular gra- 
 dation from the highest to the lowest. He 
 dreaded religion as a machine by which the 
 good government of the country might be 
 deranged, if not uprooted. There was one 
 evening when he and Marrit of Rokeby. 
 some of the Fergusons, and I, were sitting 
 over our wine, that he said, " There is noth- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 233 
 
 ing that I dread so much as a very religious 
 woman ; she is not only a dangerous person, 
 but a perfect shower-bath on all social con- 
 viviality. The enthusiasm of our Scottish 
 ladies has now grown to such a height that 
 I am almost certain it will lead to some 
 dangerous revolution in the state. And then, 
 to try to check it, would only make the evil 
 worse. If you ever choose a wife, Hogg, for 
 goodness' sake, as you value your own hap- 
 piness, don't choose a very religious one." 
 
 He had a settled impression on his mind 
 that a revolution was impending over this 
 country, even worse than we have experi- 
 enced, and he was always keeping a sharp 
 look-out on the progress of enthusiasm in re- 
 ligion, as a dangerous neighbour. There 
 was one day, that he and Laidlaw were 
 
 walking in the garden at Abbotsford, during 
 20* 
 
234 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 the time that the western portion of the man- 
 sion-house was building. The architect's 
 name, I think, was Mr. Paterson. 
 
 " Well, do you know, Laidlaw," said Scott, 
 " that I think Paterson one of the best-na- 
 tured, shrewd sensible fellows, that I ever 
 met with. I am quite delighted with him, 
 for he is a fund of continual amusement to 
 me. If you heard but how I torment him ! 
 I attack him every day on the fundamental 
 principles of his own art. I take a position 
 which I know to be false, and persist in 
 maintaining it, and it is truly amazing with 
 what good sense and good nature he sup- 
 ports his principles. I really like Paterson 
 exceedingly." 
 
 u O he's verra fine fellow/' said Laidlaw. 
 " An extraordinar fine fellow, an' has a great 
 deal o' comings an' gangings in him. But 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 235 
 
 dinna ye think, Mr. Scott, that it's a great 
 pity he should hae been a preacher?" 
 
 " A preacher ? " said Scott, staring at him ; 
 " Good liord ! what do you mean ? " 
 
 " Aha ! It's a' ye ken about it ! " said 
 Laidlaw. "I assure you, he's a preacher, an' 
 a capital preacher too. He's reckoned the 
 best baptist preacher in a' Galashiels, an' 
 preaches every Sunday to a great commu- 
 nity o' low kind o' folks." 
 
 On hearing this, Sir Walter, (then Mr. 
 Scott,) wheeled about and helted off with a 
 swiftness Laidlaw had never seen him exer- 
 cise before ; exclaiming vehemently to him- 
 self, " Preaches! D him!" From 
 
 that time forth, his delightful colloquies with 
 Mr. Paterson ceased. 
 
 There was another time at Abbotsford, 
 when some of the Sutherland family, (for I 
 
236 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 don't remember the English title,) and many 
 others were there, that we were talking of 
 the Earl of Buchan's ornamental improve- 
 ments at Drvburgh, and among other things, 
 of the collossal statue of Wallace, which I 
 rather liked and admired, but which Sir Wal- 
 ter perfectly abhorred, he said these very 
 words. " If I live to see the day when the 
 men of Scotland, like the children of Israel, 
 shall every one do that which is right in his 
 own eyes, which 1 am certain either lor 
 my immediate successors will see, I have 
 settled in my own mind long ago what I 
 shall do first. I'll go down and blow up 
 the statue of Wallace with gun-powder. Yes. 
 I shall blow it up in such style, that there 
 shall not be one fragment of it left ! the horri- 
 ble monster ! ' 1 He had a great veneration 
 for the character of Sir William Wallace, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 237 
 
 and I have often heard him eulogise it. He 
 said to me one morning long ago, when 
 Miss Porter's work, The Scottish Chiefs, 
 first appeared, " I am grieved about this 
 work of Miss Porter ! I cannot describe to 
 you how much I am disappointed, I wished 
 to think so well of it ; and I do think highly 
 of it as a work of genius. But, Lord help 
 her ! Her Wallace is no more our Wallace, 
 than Lord Peter is, or King Henry's messen- 
 ger to Percy Hotspur. It is not safe med- 
 dling with the hero of a country, and, of all 
 others, I cannot bear to see the character of 
 Wallace frittered away to that of a fine gen- 
 tleman/' 
 
 Sir Walter was the best formed man I 
 ever saw, and, laying his weak limb out of 
 the question, a perfect model of a man for 
 gigantic strength. The muscles of his arms 
 
238 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 were prodigious. I remember of one day 
 long ago, I think it was at some national 
 dinner in Oman's Hotel, that at a certain 
 time of the night, a number of the young 
 heroes differed prodigiously with regard to 
 their various degrees of muscular strength. 
 A general measurement took place around 
 the shoulders and chest, and I, as a particular 
 judge in these matters, was fixed on as the 
 measurer and umpire. Scott, who never 
 threw cold water on any fun, submitted 
 to be measured with the rest. He measured 
 most round the chest, and to their great 
 chagrin, I was next to him, and very little 
 short. But when I came to examine the 
 arms ! Sir Walter's had double the muscular 
 power of mine, and very nearly so of every 
 man's who was there. I declare, that from 
 
 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 239 
 
 the elbow to the shoulder, they felt as if he 
 had the strength of an ox. 
 
 There was a gentleman once told me that 
 he walked into Sir Walter's house, in Castle- 
 street, just as the footman was showing 
 another gentleman out, and that, being an 
 intimate acquaintance, he walked straight 
 into Sir Walter's study, where he found him 
 stripped, with his shirt sleeves rolled up to 
 his shoulders, and his face very red. " Good 
 Heaven, Scott, what is the matter ? " said the 
 intruder. " Pray, may I ask an explana- 
 tion of this ? " " Why, the truth is, that I 
 have just been giving your friend, Mr. Mar- 
 tin, a complete drubbing," said Scott laugh- 
 ing. " The scoundrel dared me to touch 
 him but with one of my fingers ; but if I 
 have not given him a thorough basting, he 
 knows himself. He is the most impudent 
 
240 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 and arrant knave I ever knew. But I think 
 it will be a while before he attempts to im- 
 pose again upon me." This Mr. Martin, 
 the gentleman said, was some great picture 
 dealer. But as I never heard Sir Walter 
 mention the feat in his hours of hilarity, I 
 am rather disposed to discredit the story. 
 He was always so reasonable and so prudent, 
 that I hardly think he would fall on and 
 baste even a knavish picture dealer black and 
 blue, in his own study. The gentleman 
 who told me this is alive, and will, and may 
 answer for himself in this matter. 
 
 Sir Walter in his study, and in his seat in 
 the Parliament house, had rather a dull, 
 heavy appearance, but in company, his 
 countenance was always lighted up, and 
 Chantrey has given the likeness of him there 
 precisely. In his family he was kind, con- 
 
•SIR WALTER SCOTT. 241 
 
 descending and attentive, but highly impera- 
 tive. No one of them durst for a moment 
 disobey his orders, and if he began to hang 
 down his eyebrows, a single hint was 
 enough. In every feature of his face deci- 
 sion was strongly marked. He was exactly 
 what I conceive an old Border Baron to 
 have been, with his green jacket, his blue 
 bonnet, his snow-white locks, muscular frame, 
 and shaggy eyebrows, 
 
 He was said to be a very careless com- 
 poser, yet I have seen a great number of 
 his manuscripts, corrected and enlarged on 
 the white page which he alternately left, a 
 plan which I never tried in my life. He 
 once undertook to correct the press for a work 
 of mine, " The Three Perils of Women," 
 when I was living in the country, and when 
 
 I gave the manuscript to Ballantyne, I said, 
 2i 
 
342 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 " Now you must send the proofs to Sir Wal- 
 ter, he is to correct them for me." 
 
 " He correct them for you !" exclaimed 
 Ballantyne, " Lord help you and him both ! 
 I assure you if he had nobody to correct 
 after him, there would be a bonny song 
 through the country. He is the most care- 
 less and incorrect writer that ever was born, 
 for a voluminous and popular writer, and as 
 for sending a proof sheet to him, we may as 
 well keep it in the office. He never heeds 
 it. No, no, you must trust the correction of 
 the press to my men and me, I shall answer 
 for them, and if I am in a difficulty at any 
 time, I'll apply to Lockhart. He is a very 
 different man, and has the best eye for a 
 corrector, of any gentleman corrector I ever 
 saw. He often sends me an article written 
 off-hand like your own, without the interlined- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 243 
 
 tion of a word, or the necessity of correct- 
 ing one afterwards. But as for Sir Walter, 
 he will never look at either your proofs or 
 his own, unless it be for a few minutes' 
 amusement." 
 
 The Whig ascendency in the British 
 Cabinet killed Sir Walter. Yes, I say and 
 aver it was that which broke his heart, de- 
 ranged his whole constitution, and murdered 
 him. As I have shown before, a dread of 
 revolution had long preyed on his mind ; he 
 withstood it to the last ; he fled from it, but 
 it affected his brain, and killed him. From 
 the moment he perceived the veto of a de- 
 mocracy prevailing, he lost all hope of the 
 prosperity and ascendency of the British 
 empire. He not only lost hope of the realm, 
 but of every individual pertaining to it, as 
 my last anecdote of him will show, for 
 
244 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 though I could multiply these anecdotes and 
 remarks to volumes, yet I must draw them 
 to a conclusion. They are trivial in the last 
 degree ; did they not relate to so great and 
 so good a man. I have depicted him exactly 
 as he was, as he always appeared to me, and 
 was reported by others, and I revere his 
 memory as that of an elder brother. 
 
 The last time I saw his loved and ho- 
 noured face, was at the little inn on my own 
 farm, in the autumn of 1830. He sent me 
 word that he was to pass on such a day, on 
 his way from Dumlamrig Castle, to Abbots- 
 ford, but he was sorry he could not call at 
 Altrive, to see Mrs. Hogg and the bairns, 
 it being so far ofif the way. I accordingly 
 waited at the inn, and handed him out of 
 the carriage. His daughter was with him, 
 but we left her at the inn, and walked 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 246 
 
 slowly down the way as far as Mountben- 
 ger-Burn. He then walked very ill indeed, 
 for the weak limb had become almost com- 
 pletely useless, but he leaned on my shoulder 
 all the way, and did me the honour of 
 saying that he never leaned on a firmer or 
 a surer. 
 
 We talked of many things, past, present, 
 and to come, but both his memory and 
 onward calculation appeared to me then to 
 be considerably decayed. I cannot tell what 
 it was, but there was something in his man- 
 ner that distressed me. He often changed 
 the subject very abruptly, and never laughed. 
 He expressed the deepest concern for my 
 welfare and success in life, more than I had 
 ever heard him do before, and all mixed 
 with sorrow for my worldly misfortunes. 
 
 There is little doubt, that his own were then 
 21* 
 
246 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 preying on his vitals. He told me that 
 which I never knew nor suspected before ; 
 that a certain game-keeper, on whom he be- 
 stowed his maledictions without reserve, had 
 prejudiced my best friend, the young Duke 
 of Buccleuch, against me, by a story, and 
 though he himself knew it to be a mali- 
 cious and invidious lie, yet seeing his grace 
 so much irritated he durst not open his lips 
 on the subject, further than by saying, " But 
 my lord Duke, you must always remember 
 that Hogg is no ordinary man, although he 
 may have shot a stray moorcock." And 
 then turning to me he said, "Before you 
 had ventured to give any saucy language to 
 a low scoundrel of an English game-keep- 
 er, you should have thought of Fielding's 
 tale of Black George." 
 
 " I never saw that tale," said I, " an 5 
 
SIR WA.LTER SCOTT. 247 
 
 dinna' ken ought about it. But never trou- 
 ble your head about that matter, Sir Walter, 
 for it is awthegither out o' nature for our 
 young chief to entertain ony animosity 
 against me. The thing will never mair be 
 heard of, an' the chap that tauld the lees 
 on me will gang to hell, that's aye some 
 comfort." 
 
 I wanted to make him laugh, but I could 
 not even make him smile. " You are still 
 the old man, Hogg, careless and improvident 
 as ever," said he, with a countenance as gruff 
 and demure as could be. 
 
 Before we patted I mentioned to him my 
 plan of trusting an edition of my prose tales, 
 in twenty volumes, to Lockhart's editing. 
 He disapproved of the plan decidedly, and 
 said, " I would not for any thing in the 
 world, that Lockhart should enter on such a 
 
248 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 responsibility, for taking your random way 
 of writing into account, the responsibility 
 would be a very heavy one. Ay, and a 
 dangerous one too ! " Then turning half 
 round, leaning on his crutch, and fixing his 
 eyes on the ground for a long space, he said, 
 " You have written a great deal that might 
 be made available, Hogg, with proper atten- 
 tion. And I am sure that one day or other, it 
 will be made available to you or your family. 
 But in my opinion, this is not the proper 
 season. I wish you could drive off the ex- 
 periment until the affairs of the nation are 
 in better keeping, for at present all things, 
 and literature in particular, are going straight 
 down hill to destruction and ruin." And 
 then he mumbled something to himself, 
 which I took to be an inward curse. I say 
 again, and I am certain of it, that the demo- 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 249 
 
 cratic ascendency, and the grievous and 
 shameful insults he received from the popu- 
 lace of his own country, broke the heart of, 
 and killed the greatest man that ever that 
 country contained. 
 
 When I handed him into the coach that 
 day, he said something to me which, in the 
 confusion of parting, I forgot ; and though I 
 tried to recollect the words the next minute, 
 I. could not, and never could again. It was 
 something to the purport that it was likely it 
 would be long, ere he leaned as far on my 
 shoulder again, but there was an expression 
 in it, conveying his affection for me, or his 
 interest in me, which has escaped my memory 
 forever. 
 
 This is my last anecdote of my most 
 sincere and esteemed friend. After this I 
 never saw him again. I called twice at 
 
250 FAMILIAR ANECDOTES OF 
 
 Abbotsford, during his last illness, but they 
 would not let me see him, and I did not at 
 all regret it, for he was then reduced to the 
 very lowest state of weakness, to which 
 poor prostrate humanity could be subjected. 
 He was described to me by one who saw 
 him often, as exactly in the same state with 
 a man mortally drunk, who could in nowise 
 own or assist himself; the pressure of the 
 abscess on the brain having apparently the 
 same effect as the fumes of drunkenness. 
 He could, at short intervals, distinguish indi* 
 viduals, and pronounce a few intelligible 
 words ; but these lucid glimpses were of 
 short duration, the sunken eye soon ceased 
 again from distinguishing objects, and the 
 powerless tongue became unable to utter a 
 syllable, though constantly attempting it, 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 251 
 
 which made the sound the most revolting 
 that can be conceived. 
 
 I am sure heaven will bless Lockhart, for 
 his attentions to the illustrious sufferer. The 
 toil and the watching that he patiently en- 
 dured, one would have thought was beyond 
 human nature to have stood, and yet I never 
 saw him look better or healthier all the while. 
 He will not miss his reward. I followed my 
 friend's sacred remains to his last narrow 
 house, remained the last man at the grave ? 
 and even then, left it with reluctance. 
 
 Omnes eodem cogimur: omnium, 
 Versatur urna, serius, ocyus 
 Sors exitura. 
 

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