have the opinion you have expressed of that cold and false-hearted Frenchified coxcomb, Horace Walpole. Poor Shirley! What a melancholy end was his! And then to be so treated by Dryden! One would almost suspect some private cause of dislike, such as is said to have influenced Swift in regard to Dryden himself. Shirley's death reminded me of a sad close of the life of a literary person, Sanderson by name, in the neighbouring county of Cumberland. He lived in a cottage by himself, though a man of some landed estate. His cottage, from want of care on his part, took fire in the night. The neighbours were alarmed; they ran to his rescue; he escaped, dreadfully burned, from the flames, and lay down (he was in his seventieth year), much exhausted under a tree, a few yards from the door. His friends in the meanwhile endeavoured to save what they could of his property from the flames. He inquired most anxiously after a box in which his manuscripts and published pieces had been deposited with a view to a publication of a laboriously-corrected edition; and, upon being told that the box was consumed, he expired in a few minutes, saying or rather sighing out the words, 'Then I do not wish to live.' Poor man! though the circulation of his works had not extended beyond a circle of fifty miles diameter, perhaps, at furthest, he was most anxious to survive in the memory of the few who were likely to hear of him. The publishing trade, I understand, continues to be much depressed, and authors are driven to solicit or invite subscriptions, as being in many cases the only means of giving their works to the world. I am always pleased to hear from you, and believe me, My dear Sir, Faithfully your obliged friend, WM. WORDSWORTH. CCXLIII. George Crabbe began to write as a contemporary of Goldsmith and Johnson, but his realistic vigour attracted little notice until the tide set, with Scott and Byron, in the direction of naturalism. The middle-aged poet, who had almost resigned ambition, woke up to find himself famous among the younger men, and to renew his labours in literature. But he received no greeting more genial or more flattering than this from the Minstrel of the Border. Walter Scott to George Crabbe. Ashestiel: October 2, 1809. Dear Sir, I am just honoured with your letter, which gives me the more sensible pleasure, since it has gratified a wish of more than twenty years' standing. It is, I think, fully that time since. I was for great part of a very snowy winter, the inhabitant of an old house in the country, in a course of poetical study, so very like that of your admirably-painted Young Lad,' that I could hardly help saying, 'That's me!' when I was reading the tale to my family. Among the very few books which fell under my hands was a volume or two of Dodsley's Annual Register, one of which contained copious extracts from 'The Village' and 'The Library,' particularly the conclusion of book first of the former, and an extract from the latter, beginning with the description of the old romancers. I committed them most faithfully to my memory, where your verses must have felt themselves very strangely lodged in company with ghost stories, border riding ballads, scraps of old plays, and all the miscellaneous stuff which a strong appetite for reading, with neither means nor discrimination for selection, had assembled in the head of a lad of eighteen. New publications at that time were very rare in Edinburgh, and my means of procuring them very limited; so that, after a long search for the poems which contained these beautiful specimens, and which had afforded me so much delight, I was fain to rest contented with the extracts from the Register, which I could repeat at this moment. You may, therefore, guess my sincere delight when I saw your poems at a later period assume the rank in the public consideration which they so well deserve. It was a triumph to my own immature taste to find I had anticipated the applause of the learned and of the critical, and I became very desirous to offer my gratulor, among the more important plaudits which you have had from every quarter. I should certainly have availed myself of the freemasonry of authorship (for our trade may claim to be a mystery as well as Abhorson's), to address to you a copy of a new poetical attempt which I have now upon the anvil, and esteem myself particularly obliged to Mr. Hatchard and to your goodness acting upon his information, for giving me the opportunity of paving the way for such a freedom. I am too proud of the compliments you honour me with, to affect to decline them; and with respect to the comparative view I have of my own labours and yours, I can only assure you that none of my little folks, about the formation of whose taste and principles I may be supposed naturally solicitous, have ever read any of my own poems, while yours have been our regular evening's amusement. My eldest girl begins to read well, and enters as well into the humour as into the sentiment of your admirable descriptions of human life. As for rivalry, I think it has seldom existed among those who know by experience, that there are much better things in the world than literary reputation, and that one of the best of these good things is the regard and friendship of those deservedly and generally esteemed for their worth or their talents. I believe many dilettanti authors do cocker themselves up into a great jealousy of anything that interferes with what they are pleased to call their fame, but I should as soon think of nursing one of my own fingers into a whitlow for my private amusement, as encouraging such a feeling. I am truly sorry to observe you mention bad health. Those who contribute so much to the improvement as well as the delight of society should escape this evil. I hope, however, that one day your state of health may permit you to view this country. I have very few calls to London, but it will greatly add to the interest of those which may occur, that you will permit me the honour of waiting upon you in my journey, and assuring you, in person, of the early admiration and sincere respect with which I have the honour to be, dear Sir, yours, &c., WALTER SCOTT. CCXLIV. When Dr. Dibdin published his 'Bibliographical and Antiquarian Tour in France and Germany,' he desired to send presentation copies of the earliest impressions to Southey, Campbell, Walter Scott, and Dr. Howley, then Bishop of London. In Walter Scott's case Dr. Dibdin adopted the ruse of requesting the great novelist to convey a copy to the Author of Waverley, on the plea that by no other means would the work be likely to reach its intended destination. This was the adroit reply. D D Sir Walter Scott to the Rev. T. Frognall Dibdin. My dear Sir,-Upon my return from a little excursion to the country, I found your splendid book, which I think one of the most handsome that ever came from the British press, and return you my best thanks for placing it in my possession as a mark of your regard. You have contrived to strew flowers over a path which, in other hands, would have proved a very dull one, and all Bibliomanes must remember you long, as he who first united their antiquarian details with good-humoured raillery and cheerfulness. I am planning a room at Abbotsford to be built next year for my books, and I will take care that your valued gift holds a place upon my future shelves, as much honoured as its worth deserves, and for that purpose an ingenious artist of Edinburgh has promised to give your Tour an envelope worthy of the contents. You see from all this, that I have no idea of suffering these splendid volumes to travel any farther in quest of the nameless and unknown Author of Waverley. As I have met with some inconveniences in consequence of public opinion having inaccurately identified me with this gentleman, I think I am fairly enabled to indemnify myself by intercepting this valuable testimony of your regard. The public have called for a new edition of old John Dryden's Works, on which I bestowed much labour many years ago. I hope you will let me place a set of these volumes upon your shelves in return-which are just on the point of issuing from the press, and will wait on you in the course of a fortnight. I hope Ames does not slumber? I am always, My dear Sir, Your obliged and faithful servant, CCXLV. Twelve months later a vacancy occurred in the Roxburghe Club by the death of one of its leading members, and certainly its chief Bibliomaniac, Sir M. Sykes; and at the suggestion of Dr. Dibdin the committee agreed that he should repeat his ruse by writing Scott a letter requesting to be informed whether he thought the author of Waverley would like to become a member. Hence another equally curious and characteristic rejoinder. Sir Walter Scott to the Rev. T. Frognall Dibdin. Edinburgh February 25, 1823. My dear Sir, I was duly favoured with your letter, which proves one point against the unknown author of Waverley, namely, that he is certainly a Scotsman, since no other nation pretends to the advantage of the Second Sight. Be he who or where he may, he must certainly feel the very high honour which has selected him (Nominis Umbra) to a situation so worthy of envy. As his personal appearance in the fraternity is not like to be a speedy event, one may presume he may be desirous of offering some test of his gratitude in the shape of a reprint, or such like kickshaw; and for that purpose you had better send him the statutes of your learned body which I will engage shall reach him in safety. It will follow as a characteristic circumstance, that the table of the Roxburghe, like that of King Arthur, will have a vacant chair like that of Banquo's at Macbeth's banquet. But if this author who 'hath fern-seed and walketh invisible,' should not appear to claim it before I come to London (should I ever be there again), with permission of the Club, I, who have something of adventure in me, although a knight like Sir Andrew Aguecheek dubb'd with unhack'd rapier and on carpet consideration' would, rather than lose the chance of a dinner with the Roxburghe Club, take upon me the adventure of the siege perilous, and reap some amends for perils and scandals into which the invisible champion has drawn me by being his Locum tenens on so distinguished an occa sion. 6 It will be not uninteresting to you to know that a fraternity is about to be established here something on the plan of the Roxburghe Club, but having Scottish antiquities chiefly in view. It is to be called the Bannatyne Club, from the celebrated antiquary George Bannatyne, who compiled by far the greatest manuscript record of old Scottish poetry. Their first meeting is to be held on Thursday, when the health of the Roxburghe Club will not fail to be drank. I am, dear Sir, &c. WALTER SCOTT. |