Gaiety,

work longer than any of its predecessors, and and diction, may well justify us in applying to the
was more than proportionally heavy in style, | author what he beautifully says of his King René:
though evincing in parts undiminished strength
and talent. Quentin Durward was a bold and
successful raid into French history. The de-
lineations of Louis XI. and Charles the Bold may
stand comparison with any in the whole range of
fiction or history for force and discrimination.
They seemed literally called up to a new existence,
to play their part in another drama of life, as
natural and spirit-stirring as any in which they
had been actors. The French nation exulted in
this new proof of the genius of Scott, and led the
way in enthusiastic admiration of the work. St
Ronan's Well is altogether a secondary per-
formance of the author, though it furnishes one of
his best low comic characters, Meg Dods of the
Cleikum Inn. Redgauntlet (1824) must be held to
belong to the same class as St Ronan's Well, in
spite of much vigorous writing, humorous as well
as pathetic-for the career of Peter Peebles
supplies both-and notwithstanding that it em-
bodies a great deal of Scott's own personal history
and experiences. The Tales of the Crusaders,
published in 1825, comprised two short stories,
The Betrothed and The Talisman, the second a
highly animated and splendid Eastern romance.
Shortly after this period came the calamitous
wreck of Scott's fortunes-the shivering of his
household gods-amidst declining health and the
rapid advances of age. His novel of Woodstock
(1826) was hastily completed, but is not unworthy
of his fame. The secret of the paternity of the
novels was now divulged-how could it ever have
been doubted?-and there was some satisfaction
in having the acknowledgment from his own lips,
and under his own hand, ere death had broken the
wand of the Magician. The Life of Napoleon, in
nine volumes, was the great work of 1827; but at
the commencement of the following year, Scott
published The Chronicles of the Canongate, first
series, containing The Two Drovers, The High-
land Widow, and The Surgeon's Daughter. The
second of these short tales is the most valuable,
and is pregnant with strong pathetic interest and
Celtic imagination. The preliminary introduc-
tions to the stories are all finely executed, and
constitute some of the most pleasing of the
author's minor contributions to the elucidation of
past manners and society. A number of literary
tasks now engaged the attention of Scott, the
most important of which were his Tales of a
Grandfather, a History of Scotland for Lardner's
Cyclopædia, Letters on Demonology, and new
introductions and notes to the collected edition of
the novels. A second series of the Chronicles of
the Canongate appeared in 1828, with only one
tale, but that conceived and executed with great
spirit, and in his best artistic style-The Fair
Maid of Perth. Another romance was ready by
May 1829, and was entitled Anne of Geierstein.
It was less energetic than the former-more like
an attempt to revive old forms and images than as
evincing the power to create new ones; yet there
are in its pages, as Mr Lockhart justly observes,
'occasional outbreaks of the old poetic spirit,
The sun was setting upon one of the rich grassy glades
more than sufficient to remove the work to an im- of the forest. Hundreds of broad-headed, short-stemmed,
measurable distance from any of its order pro-wide-branched oaks, which had witnessed, perhaps, the
duced in this country in our own age. Indeed, the
various play of fancy in the combination of persons
and events, and the airy liveliness of both imagery

A mirthful man he was; the snows of age
Fell, but they did not chill him.
Even in life's closing, touched his teeming brain
With such wild visions as the setting sun
Raises in front of some hoar glacier,
Painting the bleak ice with a thousand hues.'

The gaiety of Scott was the natural concomi-
tant of kindly and gentle affections, a sound judg-
ment, and uninterrupted industry. The minds of
poets, it is said, never grow old, and Scott was
hopeful to the last. Disease, however, was fast
undermining his strength. His last work of
fiction, published in 1831, was a fourth series of
Tales of My Landlord, containing Count Robert of
Paris and Castle Dangerous. They were written
after repeated shocks of paralysis and apoplexy,
and are mere shadows of his former greatness.
And with this effort closed the noble mind that
had so long swayed the sceptre of romance. The
public received the imperfect volumes with tender-
ness and indulgence, as the farewell offering of
the greatest of their contemporaries-the last
feeble gleams of a light soon to be extinguished:
A wandering witch-note of the distant spell;
And now 'tis silent all! Enchanter, fare-thee-well!
Quotation from works so well known, and
printed in so many cheap forms, seems almost
unnecessary. But we may note the wonderful
success of the novels as a mercantile speculation.
When Sir Walter died in 1832, and his life insur-
ances were realised, there was still a balance due
of £30,000. This debt, the publisher of Scott's
works, Mr Robert Cadell, ultimately took on him-
self, receiving in return the copyright of the works;
and before his death in 1849, Mr Cadell ̧had set
the estate of Abbotsford free from encumbrance,
had purchased for himself a small estate (Ratho,
near Edinburgh), and was able to leave to his
family a fortune of about £100,000. Within the
comparatively short period of twenty-two years,
he had been able, as was remarked by a writer in
the Athenæum, to make as large a fortune through
the works of one author alone as old Jacob
Tonson succeeded in scraping together after fifty
years' dealings with at least fifty authors, and with
patent rights for government printing, which Mr
Cadell never had. Shortly before his death, Mr
Cadell sold the remainder of his copyrights to
their latest possessors, Messrs Adam Black and
Co., for a sum of £17,000. The remission of the
paper-duty enabled the publishers to issue the
novels at a greatly reduced rate, and the sale,
both in this country and in America, has been
immense. Millions of the sixpenny edition have
been sold. The poetry of Scott, too, seems equally
popular, and there has been a keen rivalry among
London publishers to reproduce editions in various
forms.

Sherwood Forest in the Time of Richard I.

From Ivanhoe.

stately march of the Roman soldiery, flung their gnarled arms over a thick carpet of the most delicious greensward; in some places they were intermingled with

287

beeches, hollies, and copsewood of various descriptions, so closely as totally to intercept the level beams of the sinking sun; in others they receded from each other, forming those long, sweeping vistas, in the intricacy of which the eye delights to lose itself; while imagination considers them as the paths to yet wilder scenes of silvan solitude. Here the red rays of the sun shot a broken and discoloured light, that partially hung upon the shattered boughs and mossy trunks of the trees; and there they illuminated, in brilliant patches, the portions of turf to which they made their way. A considerable open space in the midst of this glade seemed formerly to have been dedicated to the rites of Druidical superstition; for on the summit of a hillock, so regular as to seem artificial, there still remained part of a circle of rough, unhewn stones, of large dimensions. Seven stood upright; the rest had been dislodged from their places, probably by the zeal of some convert to Christianity, and lay, some prostrate near their former site, and others on the side of the hill. One large stone only had found its way to the bottom, and, in stopping the course of a small brook which glided smoothly round the foot of the eminence, gave, by its opposition, a feeble voice of murmur to the placid and elsewhere silent streamlet.

fantastic appearance. His jacket had been stained of a bright purple hue, upon which there had been some attempt to paint grotesque ornaments in different colours. To the jacket he added a short cloak, which scarcely reached half-way down his thigh. It was of crimson cloth, though a good deal soiled, lined with bright yellow; and as he could transfer it from one shoulder to the other, or, at his pleasure, draw it all around him, its width, contrasted with its want of longitude, formed a fantastic piece of drapery. He had thin silver bracelets upon his arms, and on his neck a collar of the same metal, bearing the inscription: 'Wamba, the son of Witless, is the thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood.' This personage had the same sort of sandals with his companion; but instead of the roll of leather thong, his legs were cased in a sort of gaiters, of which one was red and the other yellow. He was provided also with a cap, having around it more than one bell, about the size of those attached to hawks, which jingled as he turned his head to one side or other; and as he seldom remained a minute in the same posture, the sound might be considered as incessant. Around the edge of this cap was a stiff bandeau of leather, cut at the top into open work resembling a coronet; while a prolonged bag arose from within it, and fell down on one shoulder, like an oldThe human figures which completed this landscape fashioned night-cap, or a jelly-bag, or the head-gear were in number two, partaking, in their dress and of a modern hussar. It was to this part of the cap appearance, of that wild and rustic character which that the bells were attached, which circumstance, as belonged to the woodlands of the West Riding of York-well as the shape of his head-dress, and his own halfshire at that early period. The eldest of these men had crazed, half-cunning expression of countenance, suffia stern, savage, and wild aspect. His garment was of ciently pointed him out as belonging to the race of the simplest form imaginable, being a close jacket with domestic clowns or jesters maintained in the houses of sleeves, composed of the tanned skin of some animal, on the wealthy, to help away the tedium of those lingering which the hair had been originally left, but which had hours which they were obliged to spend within doors. been worn off in so many places that it would have been He bore, like his companion, a scrip attached to his difficult to distinguish, from the patches that remained, belt; but had neither horn nor knife, being probably to what creature the fur had belonged. This primeval considered as belonging to a class whom it is esteemed vestment reached from the throat to the knees, and dangerous to intrust with edge-tools. In place of served at once all the usual purposes of body-clothing. these, he was equipped with a sword of lath, resemThere was no wider opening at the collar than was bling that with which Harlequin operates his wonders necessary to admit the passage of the head, from which upon the modern stage. it may be inferred that it was put on by slipping it over the head and shoulders, in the manner of a modern shirt, or ancient hauberk. Sandals, bound with thongs made of boar's hide, protected the feet, and a roll of thin leather was twined artificially around the legs, and, ascending above the calf, left the knees bare, like those of a Scottish Highlander. To make the jacket sit yet more close to the body, it was gathered at the middle by a broad leathern belt, secured by a brass buckle, to one side of which was attached a sort of scrip, and to the other a ram's horn, accoutred with a mouth-piece, for the purpose of blowing. In the same belt was stuck one of those long, broad, sharp-pointed, and two-edged knives, with a buck's-horn handle, which were fabricated in the neighbourhood, and bore, even at this early period, the name of a Sheffield whittle. The man had no covering upon his head, which was only defended by his own thick hair, matted and twisted together, and scorched by the influence of the sun into a rusty, darkred colour, forming a contrast with the overgrown beard upon his cheeks, which was rather of a yellow or amber hue. One part of his dress only remains; but it is too remarkable to be suppressed; it was a brass ring, resembling a dog's collar, but without any opening, and soldered fast round his neck, so loose as to form no impediment to his breathing, yet so tight as to be incapable of being removed excepting by the use of the file. On this singular gorget was engraved, in Saxon characters, an inscription of the following purport: Gurth, the son of Beowulph, is the born thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood.'

The outward appearance of these two men formed scarce a stronger contrast than their look and demeanour. That of the serf or bondsman was sad and sullen ; his aspect was bent on the ground with an appearance of deep dejection, which might be almost construed into apathy, had not the fire which occasionally sparkled in his red eye manifested that there slumbered, under the appearance of sullen despondency, a sense of oppression, and a disposition to resistance. The looks of Wamba, on the other hand, indicated, as usual with his class, a sort of vacant curiosity and fidgety impatience of any posture of repose, together with the utmost self-satisfaction respecting his own situation, and the appearance which he made. The dialogue which they maintained between them was carried on in Anglo-Saxon, which was universally spoken by the inferior classes, excepting the Norman soldiers and the immediate personal dependents of the great feudal nobles.

The Fisherman's Funeral.-From The Antiquary." The Antiquary, being now alone, hastened his pace, and soon arrived before the half-dozen cottages at Mussel-Crag. They now had, in addition to their usual squalid and uncomfortable appearance, the melancholy attributes of the house of mourning. The boats were all drawn up on the beach; and, though the day was fine and the season favourable, the chant which is used by the fishers when at sea was silent, as well as the prattle of the children, and the shrill song of the mother as she sits mending her nets by the door. A few of the Beside the swine-herd-for such was Gurth's occupa- neighbours, some in their antique and well-saved suits tion-was seated, upon one of the fallen Druidical of black, others in their ordinary clothes, but all bearmonuments, a person about ten years younger in appear-ing an expression of mournful sympathy with distress ance, and whose dress, though resembling his com- so sudden and unexpected, stood gathered around the panion's in form, was of better materials and a more door of Mucklebackit's cottage, waiting 'till the body

was lifted.' As the Laird of Monkbarns approached, they made way for him to enter, doffing their hats and bonnets, as he passed, with an air of melancholy courtesy, and he returned their salutes in the same manner.

persons by whom she was surrounded. Then finally, she would raise her head with a ghastly look, and fix her eyes upon the bed which contained the coffin of her grandson, as if she had at once, and for the first time, acquired sense to comprehend her inexpressible calamity. These alternate feelings of embarrassment, wonder, and grief, seemed to succeed each other more than once upon her torpid features. But she spoke not a word, neither had she shed a tear, nor did one of the family understand, either from look or expression, to what extent she comprehended the uncommon bustle around her. Thus, she sat among the funeral assembly like a connecting link between the surviving mourners and the dead corpse which they bewailed-a being in whom the light of existence was already obscured by the encroaching shadows of death.

...

When Oldbuck entered this house of mourning, he was received by a general and silent inclination of the head, and, according to the fashion of Scotland on such occasions, wine and spirits were offered round to the guests. At this moment the clergyman entered the cottage. He had no sooner entered the hut, and received the mute and melancholy salutations of the company whom it contained, than he edged himself towards the unfortunate father, and seemed to endeavour to slide in a few words of condolence or of consolation. But the old man was incapable as yet of receiving either; he nodded, however, gruffly, and shook the clergyman's hand in acknowledgment of his good intentions, but was either unable or unwilling to make any

In the inside of the cottage was a scene which our Wilkie alone could have painted with that exquisite feeling of nature which characterises his enchanting productions. The body was laid in its coffin within the wooden bedstead which the young fisher had occupied while alive. At a little distance stood the father, whose rugged, weather-beaten countenance, shaded by his grizzled hair, had faced many a stormy night and night-like day. He was apparently revolving his loss in his mind with that strong feeling of painful grief peculiar to harsh and rough characters, which almost breaks forth into hatred against the world and all that remain in it after the beloved object is withdrawn. The old man had made the most desperate efforts to save his son, and had been withheld only by main force from renewing them at a moment when, without the possibility of assisting the sufferer, he must himself have perished. All this apparently was boiling in his recollection. His glance was directed sidelong towards the coffin, as to an object on which he could not steadfastly look, and yet from which he could not withdraw his eyes. His answers to the necessary questions which were occasionally put to him were brief, harsh, and almost fierce. His family had not yet dared to address to him a word either of sympathy or consolation. His masculine wife, virago as she was, and absolute mistress of the family, as she justly boasted herself on all ordin-verbal reply. ary occasions, was, by this great loss, terrified into silence and submission, and compelled to hide from her husband's observation the bursts of her female sorrow. As he had rejected food ever since the disaster had happened, not daring herself to approach him, she had that morning, with affectionate artifice, employed the youngest and favourite child to present her husband with some nourishment. His first action was to push it from him with an angry violence that frightened the child; his next, to snatch up the boy, and devour him with kisses. Ye'll be a braw fellow, an ye be spared, Patie; but ye'll never-never can be-what he was to me! He has sailed the coble wi' me since he was ten years auld, and there wasna the like o' him drew a net betwixt this and Buchan-ness. They say folks maun submit; I will try.' And he had been silent from that moment until compelled to answer the necessary questions we have already noticed. Such was the disconsolate state of the father.

In another corner of the cottage, her face covered by her apron, which was flung over it, sat the mother, the nature of her grief sufficiently indicated by the wringing of her hands, and the convulsive agitations of her bosom, which the covering could not conceal. Two of her gossips, officiously whispering into her ear the commonplace topic of resignation under irremediable misfortune, seemed as if they were endeavouring to stem the grief which they could not console. The sorrow of the children was mingled with wonder at the preparations they beheld around them, and at the unusual display of wheaten bread and wine, which the poorest peasant or fisher offers to the guests on these mournful occasions; and thus their grief for their brother's death was almost already lost in admiration of the splendour of his funeral.

But the figure of the old grandmother was the most remarkable of the sorrowing group. Seated on her accustomed chair, with her usual air of apathy, and want of interest in what surrounded her, she seemed every now and then mechanically to resume the motion of twirling her spindle; then to look towards her bosom for the distaff, although both had been laid aside. She would then cast her eyes about, as if surprised at missing the usual implements of her industry, and appear struck by the black colour of the gown in which they had dressed her, and embarrassed by the number of

The minister next passed to the mother, moving along the floor as slowly, silently, and gradually as if he had been afraid that the ground would, like unsafe ice, break beneath his feet, or that the first echo of a footstep was to dissolve some magic spell, and plunge the hut, with all its inmates, into a subterranean abyss. The tenor of what he had said to the poor woman could only be judged by her answers, as, half-stifled by sobs illrepressed, and by the covering which she still kept over her countenance, she faintly answered at each pause in his speech: Yes, sir, yes!-Ye're very gude—ye 're very gude !-Nae doubt, nae doubt! It's our duty to submit! But, O dear! my poor Steenie! the pride o' my very heart, that was sae handsome and comely, and a help to his family, and a comfort to us a', and a pleasure to a' that lookit on him! O my bairn! my bairn! my bairn! what for is thou lying there! and eh! what for am I left to greet for ye!'

There was no contending with this burst of sorrow and natural affection. Oldbuck had repeated recourse to his snuff-box to conceal the tears which, despite his shrewd and caustic temper, were apt to start on such occasions. The female assistants whimpered, the men held their bonnets to their faces and spoke apart with each other....

Mr Oldbuck observed to the clergyman, that it was time to proceed with the ceremony. The father was incapable of giving directions, but the nearest relation of the family made a sign to the carpenter, who in such cases goes through the duty of the undertaker, to proceed with his office. The creak of the screw-nails presently announced that the lid of the last mansion of mortality was in the act of being secured above its tenant. The last act which separates us for ever, even from the mortal relics of the person we assemble to mourn, has usually its effect upon the most indifferent, selfish, and hard-hearted. With a spirit of contradiction, which we may be pardoned for esteeming narrow-minded, the fathers of the Scottish kirk rejected, even on this most solemn occasion, the form of an address to the Divinity, lest they should be thought to countenance the rituals of Rome or of England. With much better and more liberal judgment, it is the present practice of most of the Scottish clergymen to seize this opportunity of offering a prayer and exhortation, suitable to make an impression upon the living, while they are yet in the very

presence of the relics of him whom they have but lately seen such as themselves.

The coffin, covered with a pall, and supported upon handspikes by the nearest relatives, now only waited the father, to support the head as is customary. Two or three of these privileged persons spoke to him, but he answered only by shaking his hand and his head in token of refusal. With better intention than judgment, the friends, who considered this as an act of duty on the part of the living, and of decency towards the deceased, would have proceeded to enforce their request, had not Oldbuck interfered between the distressed father and his well-meaning tormentors, and informed them, that he himself, as landlord and master to the deceased, 'would carry his head to the grave.' In spite of the sorrowful occasion, the hearts of the relatives swelled within them at so marked a distinction on the part of the Laird; and old Ailison Breck, who was present among other fish-women, swore almost aloud, His honour Monkbarns should never want sax warp of oysters in the season [of which fish he was understood to be fond], if she should gang to sea and dredge for them hersel, in the foulest wind that ever blew." And such is the temper of the Scottish common people, that, by this instance of compliance with their customs, and respect for their persons, Mr Oldbuck gained more popularity than by all the sums which he had yearly distributed in the parish for purposes of private or general charity.

gorgeous canopy, lay almost portentously still, reflecting back the dazzling and level beams of the descending luminary, and the splendid colouring of the clouds amidst which he was setting. Nearer to the beach, the tide rippled onward in waves of sparkling silver, that imperceptibly, yet rapidly, gained upon the sand.

With a mind employed in admiration of the romantic scene, or perhaps on some more agitating topic, Miss Wardour advanced in silence by her father's side. Following the windings of the beach, they passed one projecting point of headland or rock after another, and now found themselves under a huge and continued extent of the precipices by which that iron-bound coast is in most places defended. Long projecting reefs of rock, extending under water, and only evincing their existence by here and there a peak entirely bare, or by the breakers which foamed over those that were partially covered, rendered Knockwinnock bay dreaded by pilots and shipmasters. The crags which rose between the beach and the mainland, to the height of two or three hundred feet, afforded in their crevices shelter to unnumbered sea-fowl, in situations seemingly secured by their dizzy height from the rapacity of man. Many of these wild tribes, with the instinct which sends them to seek the land before a storm arises, were now winging towards their nests with the shrill and dissonant clang which announces disquietude and fear. The disk of the sun became almost totally obscured ere he had altogether sunk below the horizon, and an early and lurid shade of darkness blotted the serene twilight of a summer evening. The wind began next to arise; but its wild and moaning sound was heard some time, and its effect became visible on the bosom of the sea, before the gale was felt on shore. The mass of waters, now dark and threatening, began to lift itself in larger ridges and sink in deeper furrows, forming waves that rose high in foam upon the breakers, or burst upon the beach with a sound resembling distant thunder.

Jeanie Deans and Queen Caroline.

The sad procession now moved slowly forward, preceded by the beadles, or saulies, with their batonsmiserable-looking old men, tottering as if on the edge of that grave to which they were marshalling another, and clad, according to Scottish guise, with threadbare black coats, and hunting-caps decorated with rusty crape. Monkbarns would probably have remonstrated against this superfluous expense, had he been consulted; but, in doing so, he would have given more offence than he gained popularity by condescending to perform the office of chief-mourner. Of this he was quite aware, and wisely withheld rebuke, where rebuke and advice would have been equally unavailing. In truth, the Scottish peasantry are still infected with that rage for funeral ceremonial, which once distinguished the grandees The queen seemed to acquiesce, and the duke made of the kingdom so much, that a sumptuary law was a signal for Jeanie to advance from the spot where she made by the parliament of Scotland for the purpose of had hitherto remained, watching countenances which restraining it; and I have known many in the lowest were too long accustomed to suppress all apparent signs stations, who have denied themselves not merely the of emotion, to convey to her any interesting intelligence. comforts, but almost the necessaries of life, in order to Her majesty could not help smiling at the awe-struck save such a sum of money as might enable their survivmanner in which the quiet, demure figure of the little ing friends to bury them like Christians, as they termed Scotchwoman advanced towards her, and yet more at it, nor could their faithful executors be prevailed upon, the first sound of her broad northern accent. But Jeanie though equally necessitous, to turn to the use and main-had a voice low and sweetly toned, an admirable thing tenance of the living, the money vainly wasted upon the interment of the dead.

The procession to the church-yard, at about half a mile's distance, was made with the mournful solemnity usual on these occasions-the body was consigned to its parent earth-and when the labour of the gravediggers had filled up the trench, and covered it with fresh sod, Mr Oldbuck, taking his hat off, saluted the assistants, who had stood by in mournful silence, and with that adieu dispersed the mourners.

A Stormy Sunset by the Seaside.—From The Antiquary.' The sun was now resting his huge disk upon the edge of the level ocean, and gilded the accumulation of towering clouds through which he had travelled the live-long day, and which now assembled on all sides, like misfortunes and disasters around a sinking empire and falling monarch. Still, however, his dying splendour gave a sombre magnificence to the massive congregation of vapours, forming out of the unsubstantial gloom the show of pyramids and towers, some touched with gold, some with purple, some with a hue of deep and dark red. The distant sea, stretched beneath this varied and

From The Heart of Mid-Lothian.

in woman, and she besought 'her leddyship to have pity on a poor misguided young creature,' in tones so affecting, that, like the notes of some of her native songs, provincial vulgarity was lost in pathos.

Stand up, young woman,' said the queen, but in a kind tone, and tell me what sort of a barbarous people your country-folk are, where child-murder is become so common as to require the restraint of laws like yours.'

'If your leddyship pleases,' answered Jeanie, 'there are mony places besides Scotland where mothers are unkind to their ain flesh and blood.'

George II. and Frederick, Prince of Wales, were then It must be observed that the disputes between at the highest, and that the good-natured part of the public laid the blame on the queen. She coloured highly, and darted a glance of a most penetrating character, first at Jeanie, and then at the duke. Both sustained it unmoved; Jeanie from total unconsciousness of the offence she had given, and the duke from his habitual composure. But in his heart he thought, My unlucky protégée has with this luckless answer shot dead, by a kind of chance-medley, her only hope of success.'

Lady Suffolk, good-humouredly and skilfully interposed in this awkward crisis. You should tell this

lady,' she said to Jeanie, 'the particular causes which only attach itself to guilt, and even then with cautious render this crime common in your country.' reluctance.'

Upon my foot mostly, madam,' was the reply. 'What, all that immense way upon foot? How far reign, and that his throne, and the throne of his posterity, can you walk in a day?'

'And a what?' said the queen, looking towards the sinning and a suffering creature, whose mind is sae Duke of Argyle.