Read Ebook: Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott Volume 6 (of 10) by Lockhart J G John Gibson

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Ebook has 713 lines and 141677 words, and 15 pages

"I see!" said the man.

"But I 'spect I could make yours, don't you? Should you mind if once I didn't get the spread right, you know?"

"Not a bit. Besides, I don't like spreads. We'll throw it away."

"Oh, let's!" said the child. "Hurrah! Do you say hurrah?"

"Hurrah!" said the man. "Do you mind if I smoke a pipe?"

No, the child did not mind at all. So he brought a most beautiful pipe, and filled and lighted it; then he sat down, and looked at the child thoughtfully.

"I suppose you ought to tell me where you came from," he said. "It isn't half so much fun, but I suppose they will be missing you at home, don't you? Your mamma--"

The child hastened to explain. Her mamma was away, had gone quite away with her papa, and left her, the child, alone with Miss Tyler and the nurse. Now Miss Tyler was no kinds of a person to leave a child wiz; she poked and she fussed, and she said it was shocking whenever you did anything, but just anything at all except sit still and learn hymns. "I hate hymns!" said the child.

"So do I!" said the man, fervently. "It's a pity about Miss Tyler. Where is it you came from, Snow-white?"

"Oh! it's somewhere else; a long way off. I can't go back there. Dwarfs never send people back there; they let them stay and do the work. And I'm almost as big as you are!" the child ended, with a little quaver.

"So you are," said the man. "Now we'll wash the dishes, and forget all about it for to-night, anyhow."

It was glorious fun washing the dishes, such pretty dishes, blue and white, with houses and birds on them. They went into the kitchen through one of the doors, and there all the things were bright and shining, as if they were made of silver. The child asked the dwarf if they were really silver, but he said oh, dear, no, only Britannia. That sounded like nonsense, because the child knew that Britannia ruled the waves, her papa sang a song about it; but she thought perhaps dwarfs didn't understand about that, so she said nothing. The dwarf brought a little cricket, and she stood on that and wiped the dishes while he washed them; and he said he never liked washing them so much before, and she said she never liked wiping them so much. Everything was as handy as possible. The dish-pan was as bright as the rest of the things, and there were plenty of clean towels, and when you shook the soap-shaker about, it made the most charming bubbles in the clean hot water.

"Do you ever make bubbles in your pipe?" said the child.

"Not in this one," said the dwarf. "I used to have a pipe for them; perhaps I can find one for you by and by."

"I made bubbles in the river," she announced, polishing a glass vigorously. "There was a stone, and I sat on it, and bubbles I made wiz kicks, you know, in the water; and songs I made, too, and the river went bubble, too, all the time. There was a frog, too, and he came and said things to me, but I kicked at him. He wasn't the Frog Prince, 'cause he had no gold spots on him. Do you know the Frog Prince? Does he live here in this river? Do you have gold balls when you play ball?"

"I'll get one," said the dwarf, recklessly. "It's no fun playing ball alone, but now we'll have one, I shouldn't wonder. How far did you come along the river, Snow-white?"

"Miles!" said Snow-white.

"And didn't you have shoes and stockings when you started?"

Yes, the child had had shoes and stockings, but she took them off to see her toes make dust-toes in the dust. Did ever the dwarf do that? It was fun! She left them away back there, miles away, before she came to the river and the woods. And her hat--

She laughed suddenly. "Did ever you put flowers in your hat and send it sailing for a boat?"

"Is that what you did, Snow-white?"

"Yes! and it was fun. It went bob, bob, right along wiz the water and bubbles; and then it tipped against a stone, and then it went round the corner, and--and that's all I know," she ended, suddenly.

"You are sleepy, Snow-white," said the dwarf. "See! the dishes are all done; now we will put them away in the cupboard, and then we will see about putting you away to bed."

WALTER SCOTT.

Before quitting the year 1818, I ought to have mentioned that among Scott's miscellaneous occupations in its autumn, he found time to contribute some curious materials toward a new edition of Burt's Letters from the North of Scotland, which had been undertaken by his old acquaintance, Mr. Robert Jameson. During the winter session he appears to have made little progress with his novel; his painful seizures of cramp were again recurring frequently, and he probably thought it better to allow the story of Lammermoor to lie over until his health should be re?stablished. In the mean time he drew up a set of topographical and historical essays, which originally appeared in the successive numbers of the splendidly illustrated work, entitled Provincial Antiquities of Scotland. But he did this merely to gratify his own love of the subject, and because, well or ill, he must be doing something. He declined all pecuniary recompense; but afterwards, when the success of the publication was secure, accepted from the proprietors some of the beautiful drawings by Turner, Thomson, and other artists, which had been prepared to accompany his text. These drawings are now in the little breakfast-room at Abbotsford--the same which had been constructed for his own den, and which I found him occupying as such in the spring of 1819.

In the course of December, 1818, he also opened an important negotiation with Messrs. Constable, which was completed early in the ensuing year. The cost of his building had, as is usual, exceeded his calculation; and he had both a large addition to it, and some new purchases of land, in view. Moreover, his eldest son had now fixed on the cavalry, in which service every step infers very considerable expense. The details of this negotiation are remarkable;--Scott considered himself as a very fortunate man when Constable, who at first offered ?10,000 for all his then existing copyrights, agreed to give for them ?12,000. Meeting a friend in the street, just after the deed had been executed, he said he wagered no man could guess at how large a price Constable had estimated his "eild kye" . The copyrights thus transferred were, as specified in the instrument:--

"The said Walter Scott, Esq.'s present share, being the entire copyright, of Waverley.

Do. do Guy Mannering. Do. do Antiquary. Do. do Rob Roy. Do. do Tales of My Landlord, 1st Series. Do. do do. 2d Series. Do. do do. 3d Series. Do. do Bridal of Triermain. Do. do Harold the Dauntless. Do. do Sir Tristrem. Do. do Roderick Collection, Do. do Paul's Letters. Do. being one eighth of The Lay of the Last Minstrel. Do. being one half of The Lady of the Lake. Do. being one half of Rokeby. Do. being one half of The Lord of the Isles."

He alludes to the progress of the treaty in the following letter to Captain Adam Ferguson, who had, as has already appeared, left Scotland with the Duke of Buccleuch. His Grace hearing, when in London, that one of the Barons of Exchequer at Edinburgh meant speedily to resign, the Captain had, by his desire, written to urge on Scott the propriety of renewing his application for a seat on that bench; which, however, Scott at once refused to do. There were several reasons for this abstinence; among others, he thought such a promotion at this time would interfere with a project which he had formed of joining "the Chief and the Aide-de-Camp" in the course of the spring, and accomplishing in their society the tour of Portugal and Spain--perhaps of Italy also. Some such excursion had been strongly recommended to him by his own physicians, as the likeliest means of interrupting those habits of sedulous exertion at the desk, which they all regarded as the true source of his recent ailments, and the only serious obstacle to his cure; and his standing as a Clerk of Session, considering how largely he had labored in that capacity for infirm brethren, would have easily secured him a twelve-month's leave of absence from the Judges of his Court. But the principal motive was, as we shall see, his reluctance to interfere with the claims of the then Sheriff of Mid-Lothian, his own and Ferguson's old friend and schoolfellow, Sir William Rae--who, however, accepted the more ambitious post of Lord Advocate, in the course of the ensuing summer.

TO CAPTAIN ADAM FERGUSON, DITTON PARK, WINDSOR.

WALTER SCOTT.

P. S.--No news here, but that the goodly hulk of conceit and tallow, which was called Macculloch, of the Royal Hotel, Prince's Street, was put to bed dead-drunk on Wednesday night, and taken out the next morning dead-by-itself-dead. Mair skaith at Sheriffmuir.

TO J. RICHARDSON, ESQ., FLUDYER STREET, WESTMINSTER.

EDINBURGH, 18th January, 1819.

WALTER SCOTT.

TO MR. CHARLES MACKAY, THEATRE-ROYAL, EDIN.

FRIEND MACKAY,--My lawful occasions having brought me from my residence at Gandercleuch to this great city, it was my lot to fall into company with certain friends, who impetrated from me a consent to behold the stage-play, which hath been framed forth of an history entitled Rob Roy; which history, although it existeth not in mine erudite work, entitled Tales of my Landlord, hath nathless a near relation in style and structure to those pleasant narrations. Wherefore, having surmounted those arguments whilk were founded upon the unseemliness of a personage in my place and profession appearing in an open stage-play house, and having buttoned the terminations of my cravat into my bosom, in order to preserve mine incognito, and indued an outer coat over mine usual garments, so that the hue thereof might not betray my calling, I did place myself in that place of the Theatre called the two-shilling gallery, and beheld the show with great delectation, even from the rising of the curtain to the fall thereof.

Chiefly, my facetious friend, was I enamored of the very lively representation of Bailie Nicol Jarvie, in so much that I became desirous to communicate to thee my great admiration thereof, nothing doubting that it will give thee satisfaction to be apprised of the same. Yet further, in case thou shouldst be of that numerous class of persons who set less store by good words than good deeds, and understanding that there is assigned unto each stage-player a special night, called a benefit , on which their friends and patrons show forth their benevolence, I now send thee mine in the form of a five-ell web , as a meet present for the Bailie, himself a weaver, and the son of a worthy deacon of that craft. The which propine I send thee in token that it is my purpose, business and health permitting, to occupy the central place of the pit on the night of thy said beneficiary or benefit.

Friend Mackay! from one, whose profession it is to teach others, thou must excuse the freedom of a caution. I trust thou wilt remember that, as excellence in thine art cannot be attained without much labor, so neither can it be extended, or even maintained, without constant and unremitted exertion; and further, that the decorum of a performer's private character addeth not a little to the value of his public exertions.

Finally, in respect there is nothing perfect in this world,--at least I have never received a wholly faultless version from the very best of my pupils--I pray thee not to let Rob Roy twirl thee around in the ecstasy of thy joy, in regard it oversteps the limits of nature, which otherwise thou so sedulously preservest in thine admirable national portraiture of Bailie Nicol Jarvie.--I remain thy sincere friend and well-wisher,

JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM.

Recurrence of Scott's Illness. -- Death of the Duke of Buccleuch. -- Letters to Captain Ferguson, Lord Montagu, Mr. Southey, and Mr. Shortreed. -- Scott's Sufferings while Dictating the Bride of Lammermoor. -- Anecdotes by James Ballantyne, Etc. -- Appearance of the Third Series of Tales of My Landlord. -- Anecdote of the Earl of Buchan.

It had been Scott's purpose to spend the Easter vacation in London, and receive his baronetcy; but this was prevented by the serious recurrence of the malady which so much alarmed his friends in the early part of the year 1817, and which had continued ever since to torment him at intervals. The subsequent correspondence will show that afflictions of various sorts were accumulated on his head at the same period:--

TO THE LORD MONTAGU, DITTON PARK, WINDSOR.

EDINBURGH, 4th March, 1819.

WALTER SCOTT.

TO ROBERT SOUTHEY, ESQ., KESWICK.

ABBOTSFORD, 4th April, 1819.

--Other ten days have passed away, for I would not send this Jeremiad to tease you, while its termination seemed doubtful. For the present,

"The game is done--I've won, I've won, Quoth she, and whistles thrice."

I shall not fine and renew a lease of popularity upon the theatre. To write for low, ill-informed, and conceited actors, whom you must please, for your success is necessarily at their mercy, I cannot away with. How would you, or how do you think I should relish being the object of such a letter as Kean wrote t'other day to a poor author, who, though a pedantic blockhead, had at least the right to be treated as a gentleman by a copper-laced, twopenny tearmouth, rendered mad by conceit and success? Besides, if this objection were out of the way, I do not think the character of the audience in London is such that one could have the least pleasure in pleasing them. One half come to prosecute their debaucheries, so openly that it would degrade a bagnio. Another set to snooze off their beef-steaks and port wine; a third are critics of the fourth column of the newspaper; fashion, wit, or literature, there is not; and, on the whole, I would far rather write verses for mine honest friend Punch and his audience. The only thing that could tempt me to be so silly, would be to assist a friend in such a degrading task who was to have the whole profit and shame of it.

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