paints them as in a mirror ;-thirdly, a sensibility to impressions, tender or powerful; and a sympathy which enables the author to catch the opinions. and feelings of others. These, Scott appeared eminently to possess. To the first, he owed the rapidity of his ideas,--the readiness of his combinations, and the happiness of his analogies and allusions. To the second, the clear and distinct manner in which he carried out of his mind the images which were created there; the variety of his allusions and illustrations, and that versatility of fancy which could turn from grave to gay, from the sublime and terrible to the pathetic, the festive, or the tender; that could invest the outline of form with the richness of the most graceful drapery; so that all parts and provinces of external nature seemed open to his incursions; that sometimes he could come sweeping down to earth, at others soar aloft to heaven. The third enabled him to give such dramatic powers to his scenes and pictures of social life; to enter as by right into every feeling and passion of our nature; to catch the most important features of character, and the deepest shades of thought; to reflect the fertility and humour of the bright and overflowing spirit, or to pour forth the despairing voice of nature crying from the tomb. Scott's was emphatically a picturesque imagination, and what is called an outward and objective mind. He had not the power given to him which Shakspeare possessed, of carrying the torch into the deepest abysses of the human heart, and of throwing a light, unseen before, on its darkest and most profound retreats. He had not that eagle gaze, (never seen again) which, like the scalpel of the great surgeon, was said to penetrate even into the awful and secret springs of life and death. But all but this was given to him; and in the fertility of his resources,-the rapidity of his combinations, the variety of his scenes, situations, and characters,the life and spirit of his narrative,—the force and beauty of his descriptions, the minute and living accuracy of his delineations, he must claim the title of a great original genius-of that which does not borrow its materials from what has been collected and used before, but works rather like nature from its own resources, and derives life and motion from itself. To this we attribute the excellencies of his finest creations,-the true splendour and sublimity of his descriptions, -the copiousness of his language, the richness and profusion which rarely encumbers, but far more often adorns; and we must add something of still higher value,—principles uniformly just, and sensibilities always virtuous; a rooted dislike to all that is dastardly and selfish, and an admiration of all high and heroic desires. Mr. Adolphus has marked the correctness of morals as well as the propriety of manners, by which these novels are distinguished. With Scott's great and masculine understanding, he achieved great purposes and attained an imperishable fame; and we now will trace, as we proposed, a few steps of his intellectual progress, with the assistance of the narrative "I do not compare myself in point of imagination with Wordsworth for fruit, for his is naturally exquisite and highly cultivated from constant exercise. But Í can see as many castles in the clouds as any man,-as many genii in the circling smoke of a steam engine,-as perfect a Persepolis in the embers of a sea-coal fire."Diary, vol. vii. p. 5. See also,-" I have worn a wishing cap, the power of which has been to divert present griefs by a touch of the wand of imagination," &c. vol. vi. p. 180. To this prevalence of the imaginative power, we must ascribe what Scott's friends called "a blind enthusiasm for the dreams of by-gone ages."--vol. iv. p. 156. See this illustrated in the account of the opening of the Regalia of Scotland, p. 119. before us, and reserve for the end some observations on the species of writing in which he so eminently excelled, but which he did not appear himself to estimate according to the delight and admiration it so widely diffused. Scott's mother, we are informed, had a turn for literature quite uncommon among the ladies of that age, and encouraged her son in his passion for Shakspeare; so that his plays and the Arabian Nights were often read in the family circle by Walter: this was poets' food. In another place Scott himself says,— "My week-day tasks were more agreeable; my lameness and my solitary habits had made me a tolerable reader, and my hours of leisure were usually spent in reading aloud to my mother Pope's Translation of Homer, which, excepting a few traditionary ballads, and the songs in Allan Ramsay's Evergreen, was the finest poetry I perused. My mother had good natural taste and great feeling; she used to make me pause on those passages which expressed generous and worthy sentiments, and if she could not divert me from those which were descriptive of battle and tumult, she con trived at least to divide my attention between them. My own enthusiasm, however, was chiefly awakened by the wonderful and the terrible-the common taste of children, but in which I have remained a child even unto this day. I got by heart, not as a task, but almost without intending it, the passages with which I was most pleased, and used to recite them aloud, both when alone and to others, more willingly, however, in my hours of solitude, for I had observed some auditors smile, and I dreaded ridicule at that time of life more than I have ever done since." Scott describes himself as acquiring a great acquaintance with the old books describing the early history of the Church of Scotland, the wars and sufferings of the Covenanters, and so forth. With a head on fire for chivalry, he was early a cavalier and a tory; he hated presbyterians, and admired Montrose with his victorious "I took up (he says) my politics at that period, as King Charles the Second did his religion, from an idea that the cavalier creed was the more gentlemanlike persuasion of the two. In the mean while my acquaintance with English literature was gradually extending itself; in the intervals of my school hours I had always perused with avidity such books of history, or poetry, or voyages and travels, as chance presented to me, not forgetting the usual or rather ten times the usual quantity of fairy tales, eastern stories, romances, &c. These studies were totally unregulated and undirected; my tutor thought it almost a sin to open a profane play or poem, and my mother, besides that she might be in some degree tramelled by the religious scruples which he suggested, had no longer the opportunity to hear me read poetry, as formerly. I found, however, in her dressing-room, (where I slept at one time) some odd volumes of Shakspeare, nor can I easily forget the rapture with which I sate up in my shirt reading them by the light of a fire in her apartment, until the bustle of the family rising from supper, warned me it was time to creep back to my bed, where I was supposed to have been safely de highlanders. posited since nine o'clock. Chance, however, threw in my way a poetical preceptor. This was no other than the excellent and benevolent Dr. Blacklock, well known at that time as a literary charac ter. I know not how I attracted his attention, and that of some of the young men who boarded in his family, but so it was, that I became a frequent and favoured guest. The kind old man opened to me the stores of his library, and through his recommendation I became intimate with Ossian and Spenser. I was delighted with both, yet chiefly, I think, with the latter poet. The taudry repetitions of the Ossianic phraseology disgusted me rather sooner than might have been expected from my age. But Spenser I could read for ever. Too young to trouble myself about the allegory, I considered all the knights and ladies as dragons and giants, in their outward and exoteric sense, and God only knows how delighted I was to find myself in such society. As I had always a wonderful facility in retaining in my memory whatever verses pleased me, the quantity of Spenser's stanzas which I could repeat was really marvellous; but this memory of mine was a very fickle ally, and has through my whole life acted merely upon its own capricious motives, and might have enabled me to adopt old Beattie of Mickladale's answer when complimented by a certain reverend divine on the strength of the same faculty, 'No, sir,' answered the old borderer, I have no command of my memory. It only retains what hits my fancy, and probably, sir, if you were to preach to me for two hours, I would not be able when you finished to remember a word you had been saying.' My memory was precisely of the same kind, it seldom failed to preserve most tenaciously a favourite passage of poetry, a play-house ditty, or above all a border-raid ballad; but names, dates, and the other technicalities of history escaped me in a most melancholy degree. The philosophy of history, a much more important subject, was also a sealed book at this period of my life, but I gradually assembled much of what was striking and picturesque in historical narrative; and when in riper years I attended more to the deduction of general principles, I was furnished with a powerful host of examples in illustration of them. I was, in short, like an ignorant gamester who kept up a good hand until he knew how to play it. I left the High School, therefore, with a great quantity of general information, ill arranged indeed, and collected without system, yet deeply impressed upon my mind, readily assorted by my power of connexion and memory, and gilded, if I may be permitted to say so, by a vivid and active imagination." With such an early store of knowledge, hastily gathered, and with an appetite for fresh acquirements indiscriminating as it was indefatigable, Scott left the High School of Edinburgh for the country; but the progress of his opening genius, and the account of the works which fed his young imagination, must be given in his own interesting language. "Among the valuable acquisitions I made about this time was an acquaintance with Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered, through the flat medium of Mr. Hoole's translation; but, above all, I then first became acquainted with Bishop Percy's Reliques of Ancient Poetry. As I had been from infancy devoted to legendary lore of this nature, and only reluctantly withdrew my attention from the scarcity of materials and the rudeness of those which I possessed, it may be imagined, but cannot be described, with what delight I saw pieces of the same kind which had amused my childhood, and still continued in secret the Delilahs of my imagination, considered as the subject of sober research, grave commentary, and apt illustration, by an editor who showed his poetical genius was capable of emulating the best qualities of what his pious labours preserved. I remember well the spot where I read these volumes for the first time. It was beneath a huge platanus tree, in the ruins of what had been intended for an oldfashioned arbour in the garden I have mentioned. The summer-day sped onward so fast, that, notwithstanding the sharp appetite of thirteen, I forgot the hour of dinner, was sought for with anxiety, and was still found [found still entranced in my intellectual banquet. To read and to remember was in this instance the same thing, and henceforth I overwhelmed my schoolfellows and all who would hearken to me with tragical recitations from the ballads of Bishop Percy. The first time, too, I could scrape a few shillings together, which was not a com mon occurrence with me, I bought unto myself a copy of these beloved volumes, nor do I believe I ever read a book half so frequently or with half the enthusiasm. About this period, also, I became acquainted with the works of Richardson and those of Mackenzie (whom in later years I became entitled to call my friend), with Fielding, Smollett, and some others of our best novelists. To this period also I can trace distinctly the awakening of that delightful feeling for the beauties of natural objects which has never since deserted me. The neighbourhood of Kelso, the most beautiful, if not the most romantic, village of Scotland, is eminently calculated to awaken such ideas. It presents objects not only grand in themselves but venerable from their associations. The meeting of the superb rivers the Tweed and the Teviot, both revered in song,-the ruins of an ancient abbey,-the more distant vestiges of Roxburgh Castle, the modern mansion of Fleurs, which is so situated as to combine the ideas of ancient baronial grandeur with those of modern taste,-are in themselves objects of the first class; yet are so mixed, united, and melted among a thousand other beauties of a less prominent description, that they harmonize into one general picture, and please rather by unison than by concord. The romantic feelings which I have described as predominating in my mind, naturally rested upon and associated themselves with those grand features of the landscape around me; and the historical incidents or traditional legends connected with many of them, gave to my admiration a sort of intense impression of reverence, which at times made my heart feel too big for my bosom. From this time the love of natural beauty, more especially when combined with ancient ruins, or remains of our fathers' piety and splendour, became with me an insatiable passion, which, if circumstances had permitted, I would willingly have gratified by travelling over half the globe." It appears that of Greek Scott knew, and cared to know, nothing; and to cover his retreat with the appearance at least of a reasonable determination, he surprised and offended his master with an essay proving the superiority of Ariosto over Homer. The Latin classics he also eschewed, as they were thought too much akin to the Greek; but the language of Rome he endeavoured to preserve in his memory, by an occasional perusal of Matthew Paris and Buchanan. Professor Dalzell prophesied that dunce he was, and dunce he was to remain: a prediction as accurately verified as most others made about the future fruit of genius, ere the blossom has begun to set. The following confession, accompanied as it is with the very best and most salutary advice, does credit to the manliness and candour of the author's character: "In other studies I was more fortunate. I made some progress in Ethics under Professor John Bruce; and was selected as one of his students whose progress he approved, to read an essay before Principal Robertson. I was further instructed in Moral Philosophy at the class of Mr. Dugald Stuart, whose striking and impressive eloquence riveted the attention even of the most volatile student. To sum up my academical studies, I attended the class of History, then taught by the present Lord Woodhouselee; and, as far as I can remember, no others, excepting those of the Civil and Municipal Law. So that if my learning be flimsy and inaccurate, the reader must have some compas sion even for an idle workman who had so narrow a foundation to build upon. If, however, it should ever fall to the lot of youth to peruse these pages, let such a reader remember that it is with the deepest regret that I recollect in my manhood the opportunities of learning which I neglected in my youth; that through every part of my literary career, I have felt pinched and hampered by my own ignorance, and that I would at this moment give half the reputation I have had the good fortune to acquire, if, by doing so, I could rest the remaining part upon a sound foundation of learning and science." We trace Scott's early path still winding deeper into the land of romantic poetry and legendary fable. Tressan's romances, the Bibliothèque Bleue and Bibliothèque de Romans, became familiar to him; and he was intimate with the works of Dante, Boiardo, Pulci, and others of the eminent Italian poets; he fastens, to use his own language, “like a tiger" on every collection of old songs and romances, which chance strewed in his way. Vertot's "Knights of Malta," a book which as it hovered between history and romance, was exceedingly dear to him; and as he had again a love of the study of history as connected with military events, Orme's excellent "History of Indostan" was highly esteemed by him. Scott also delighted in travelling. It was a propensity, he says, which he sometimes indulged so unduly as to alarm and vex his parents. Wood, water, wilderness itself had an inexpressible charm for him, and he had a dreamy way of going much further than he intended, so that unconsciously his return was protracted, and his parents had some-, times cause for uneasiness. His father told him that he thought he was born to be a strolling pedlar, and even under that conceit, Scott did not dislike the vagrant liberty it seemed to presume. "The principal object (he says) in these excursions was the pleasure of see ing romantic scenery, or what afforded me at least equal pleasure, the places Yet which had been distinguished by remark. After long study and many efforts, I was unable to apply the effects of perspective or of shade to the scene before me, and was obliged to relinquish in despair an art which I was most anxious to practise ; but show me an old castle or a field of battle, and I was at home at once, filled it with combatants in their proper costume, and overwhelmed my hearers by the enthusiasm of my description. In crossing Marston-Moor, near St. Andrew's, the spirit moved me to give a picture of the assassination of the Archbishop of St. Andrew's to some fellow travellers, with whom I was accidentally associated, and one of them, though well acquainted with the story, protested my narrative had frightened away his night's sleep. I mention this to show the distinction between a sense of the picturesque in action and in scenery. If I have since been able in poetry to trace with some success the principles of the latter, it has always been with reference to its general and leading features, or under some alliance with moral feeling, and even this proficiency has cost me study." In music, Scott says, it was still worse; the defects of his voice and ear soon drove his teacher to despair, and it was only by long practice that he acquired the power of selecting or distinguishing melodies. About 1788, he says, he began to feel and take his ground in society: a ready wit, a good deal of enthusiasm, and a perception that soon ripened into tact and observation of character, rendered him an acceptable companion to many young men whose acquisitions in philosophy and science were infinitely superior to anything he could boast. The quantity of ponderous and miscellaneous knowledge which he really possessed on many subjects, was not easily condensed, or brought to bear upon the object he wished particularly to become master of. Yet there occurred opportunities when this" odd lumber of his brain," cspecially that which was connected with the recondite parts of history, did him "yeoman's service." 'My memory of events was like one of the large old-fashioned stone cannons of the Turks, very difficult to load well and discharge, but making powerful effect when by good chance any object came within range of its shot." Such were the natural propensities, the inherent genius, and the early acquirements of the future master of romantic fiction. says, that his consciousness of existence dated from Sandy-Knowe. 66 "How deep and indelible (adds Mr. Lockhart) was the impression which its romantic localities had left on his imagination, I need not remind the reader of Marmion and the Eve of St. John. On the summit of the cross, which overhung the farm-house, stands the round tower of Smailholm, the scene of that fine ballad; and the view from thence takes in a wide expanse of the district in which, as has been truly said, every field has its GENT. MAG. VOL. X. He battle and every rivulet its song. Mertown, the principal seat of the Harden family, with its noble groves; nearly in front of it, across the Tweed, Lessaden, the comparatively small but still venerable and stately abode of the Lairds of Raeburn; and the hoary abbey of Dryburgh, surrounded with yew trees as ancient as itself, seem to lie almost below the feet of the spectator. Opposite him rise the purple peaks of Eildon, the traditional C |