LOCKHART'S MEMOIRS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.

THE prefaces and notes to the collected edition of SCOTT'S Works have made the public acquainted with the quarries whence

Sir W ALTER drew his materials, and the circumstances under which

his productions were composed. From the same sources, and front various Reminiscences, Sketches, Notices, Biographies, Memoirs, and so forth, a general idea has been acquired of his early training,

his boyish and youthful pursuits and avocations, as well as of his social manners, disposition, and character; and he lived so much

in public, that the events in his life are matter of notoriety, Upon these points, little was left to his biographer, except to modify or correct that which had been misconceived, to amplify that which had been slighted, and to extract the spirit from the scattered mass, and clothe it with form. But the domestic life of SCOTT, and his more personal and private thoughts and feelings—the within the skin—were comparatively a new field, on which Mr. LOCKHART hiatt IllbOM'Cd not IM181.12CSSS•

fully ; although the length of his work is somewhat disproves-

tioned to its characteristics and weight of matter. Upon the farmer points he has been less happy, and has perhaps displayed

less judgment: he seems to have designedly avoided what has been told by others, and to have been mure anxious fur rumness than goodness.

The book commences with the most interesting chapter that the work is likely to contain—" a Memoir of the early life,"

written by Scot's. himself, begun in 1808, soon alter the publica- tion of Marmion, and brought down to July 179.2, when he was called to the bar, a month before attaining his twenty-first year. Like the autobiographies of GIBBON and FRANKLIN, this production opens with a genealogical account of the gem Scalia; in which the natnral vanity of family is shown whilst seeming to treat a pedigree with indifference, and much gusto is displayed in tracing the author's " lineal descent" from an " ancient" Border " chieftain," and his maternal line to " Sir JOHN SWINTON of Swinton, a family which produced many dis- tinguished warriors during the middle ages, and which for anti- quity and honourable alliances may rank with any in Britain." Blended with this ancestral investigation, is a very charming account of his grandfather, father, and some other near relations; in which the ideality of fiction is combined with the reality of truth. Passing his family, he narrates some particulars of his own in- fancy, and the striking impressions of his very early childhood; the most extraordinary part of which is his memory,—for lie nut only repress:nts himself as retaining a consciousness of existence, but even of remembering circumstances, when little more than three years old. The attraction of his account of the old companions of his childhood, who, by their tales and ballads, contributed to store the mind and detertnine the taste of the' future poet and novelist, is owing to the animation of its narrative, and its dis inclnass and minute exaetness,—for a general idea of the sub- je:n. has been conveyed by Mr. WEIR, in the Life published about three years ugo. The history of his schoolboy dais is Intl of limit:sic interest and humour, even apart Niro the manner of the telling. A similar remark may be applied to the brief narrative or his occupation as his father's apprentice, as well as to that of the amusement of forming and telling tales, sienifivitut of the future author, in which Score. and a young companion passed their leisure. The concluding passages of the autobiography. descriptive of his illness, his Edinburgh reading, and pursuits till his call to the bar, are less striking perhaps than those which precede them, but the whole is distinguished by the highest of qualities—" the reader will wish it longer than it is." Mr. LOCKHART had commenced his work befire the auto- biography was round ; he has therefore recast the earlier part of the Life, forming it into what he calls Illustrations. His first five chapters, however, are iv, reality running commentaries, which might be broken down and appended to the text withont much further inconvenience than would arise frotn their length. The most striking points they bring out are the youthful quick- ness and vivacity of SCOTT, who seems to have displayed marks of genius sufficient to attract the prophetic notice el a shrewd ob- server; the strong natural gift which he had for inventing and

telling stories ; the faculty he possessed of getting something out of everybody, so that he turned very unpromising people to ac-

count; and his addiction to the fashionable failing of conviviality. Not the least interesting parts both of these Illustrations and the Autobiography, are the slight memorials of private persons inter- spersed through them, similar to those characters that give such a charm to the Memoirs of FRANKLIN, producing a feeling akin

to. viPt

we experience in reading old epitaphs in a country

l cliur ,hyard. Of the succeeding chapters, those which narrate Scorr s excur-

eons into Liddesdale and the Highlands, and how his legal prac- tice gave him an insight into human nature, add little to our general knowledge. His youthful associates and pursuits are painted at length, and in a pleasant way ; an early and unsuc- vssful love affair is told with a flourish quite disproportioned to the information afforded ; and on the very delicate ground of his marriage, Mr. LOCKHART judiciously allows the parties to speak for themselves, by printing the love-letters. There is nothing new in the acenunt of the first attempt of SCOTT as an author, by the translation of BURGERS Ballads ; that of his connexions with Monk LxWts, HEBER, LEYDE'N, and ELLts, if not altogether new, throws a light on the circumstances which eimulated his publication of the Minstrelsy ; the incidents at- tending w bleb are clearly told. The correspondence between Scorr awl ELLts relative to Sir Tristrem,with whose publication (in 1804) the volume closes, might have been spared, for they are dry, if not tedious. We suspect that on this, as on other occasions, Mr. Lomat/tar has felt himself fettered by the claims of the lords, ladies, knights, and squires, who have favoured him with commu- nications, and whose names may be read at large in two pages of the prefime: and, sooth to say, in such a case there is only the choice of spoiling your book or souring your friend. It is difficult, perhaps it would be unfair, to pass a judgment upon an incomplete work ; but, taking this first volume as a specimen of the whole, our apprehension is that the Life of Sir Waller Scott will not be very successful as a biography. It is rather memorials than a memoir. The writer seems to have had no definite plan; his book might be diminished or extended without gaps or difficulty. What is still worse, he neither presents a perfect picture to the mind, nor leaves a distinct impression behind him. His parts do not form a whole, notwithstanding all his elaborate details; and in this respect he suffers by manna- riaon with the brief and vivid touches of Scorr, who in a few sentences conveys a clear idea of the nature and character of the subject matter, which all the labour of his biographer fails in pre-enting.

These remarks apply to the merits of the volume as a biogra- phy. As a collection of anecdotes, stories, and slight sketches of various persons connected with its hero, its value is un- doubted. Among these last, is a portrait of the shepherd Homo, which cleverly displays his coarseness, swagger, and conceited presumption.

Our quotations shall be chiefly from the Memoir by Sir WALTER, arid from the love passages, already alluded to. The following narrates the result of his first appearance at the University. Mr. Lem-TART vouches for the truth of the narrative as regards the alphabet, by an anecdote, from which it appears that, in later life, SCOTT would not trust himself to copy 41an. and a.4417,71.

At the Greek class I might have made a better figure ; for Professor Daizeil maintained a great deal of authority, and was not only himself an admirable scholar, but was always deeply interested in the progress of his students. But here lay the villany. Almost all my companions who had left the High School at the same time with myself, had acquired a smattering of Greek before they came to College. 1, alas ! had none; and finding myself far inferior to all my fellow-students, I could hit upon no better mode of vindicating my equality than by professing my contempt for the language, and my resolution not to learn it: A youth who died early, him-elf an excellent Greek scholar, saw my negligence and fully with pain, instead of contempt. Ile came to call on me in George's Square, and pointed out in the strongest terms the sillineaa of the conduct I had adopted ; told me I was distinguished by the name of the Greek Blockhead, and exhorted me to redeem my reputation while it was called to- day. 11Iy stubborn pride received this advice with sulky civility ; the birth of ay Mentor (whose name was Archibald, the son of an innkeeper) did not. as I thought in my folly, authorize him to iotrude upon me his advice. The other was not sharp-sighted, or his conseicaisness of a generoas intention overcame his resentment he offered me his daily and nightly assistance, and pledged himself to bring me forward with the foremast of my class. I felt Rome twinges of conscience, but they were unable to prevail over my pride mid self- conceit. The poor hid left me more in sorrow than in anger, nor did we ever meet again. All hopes of my progress in the Greek were now over; inso- much that, when we were required to write esaays on the authors we had studied, I had the audacity to produce a ciunpositian in whicli I weighed limner rainst Atioato, and pronounced him w tilting in the halance. 1 tailspin ted this ll'ere,y by a mansion of had reading and flimsy argument. The wrath of the Profeawr was extreme; while, at the same time. he could not suppress his star. prise at the quantity of out of the • way knowledge ea Welt I displayed. He proanunced upon me the severe sentence —that dunce I was, and dunce was to contain ; which, however, my exeellent and learned friend lived to revoke over &bottle of Burgundy, at our literary club at Fortune's, of which he was a dis- tinguished member.

Meanwhile, as if to eradicate my slightest endure of Greek, I fell ill ■luring the middle of Mr. Dalzell's second class, awl migrated a seetnal time to Kelso.; I where I again continued a long fime reading, what and how I pleased, and of course run lag nothing but wIlit afforded use immediate entertainment. The only thing which saved my mind from utter dissipation, was that turn for his- torical puranit, which never abandoned me even at the idlest period. I haul for- Sworn the Latin Classies,for no reason I keow of, unlesa because they were akin to the Greek ; but tie occasional perusal of Buchanan's ILsto,.y. that of Mathew. Paris, and other monkish chroniclea, kept up a kind of familiarity with the language even in its rudest state. But I forgot the very letters of the Greek alphabet ; a loss never to be repaired, considei lug what ihat language is, and who they were who employed it in their compositions. We make a jump from school to church, from Greek to matri- mony. If the reader turns to the notice of Mr. ALLAN'S Life of Scott,* be will there read a condensed and characteristic account of the alliance, which, though differing in its details from Mr. Loom/fires view, corresponds pretty accurately as regards the dissatisfaction of the old people. Here is the letter to his mother, • Speckitor, No. 334 ; 221 November 1834.

breaking the ice, (his father, it is said, was ill): and surely the opening is somewhat apologetical in its tone, and the dogged " expectation touching his friends, somewhat uncalled-for„ unless he had misgivings.

" My Dear Mother—I should very ill deserve the care ar I affection with which you have ever regarded me, were 1 to neglect my duty so far as to omit consulting my father and you in the most important step which I can possibly take in life, and upon the success of which my future happiness must depend. It is with pleasuire, I think, that I can avail myself of your advice and inattuc- tious in an affair of so great importacce as that whicis I have at present on say hands. You will probably guess from this preamble that I am engaged in a matritnonial plan, which IS really the case. Though toy acquaintance with the young lady has not been of long standing, this circumatance is in some degree counterbalanced by the intimacy in which we have lived, and by the opportu- nities which that intimacy has afforded me of remarking her couduct and sen- timents on many different oceasions, some of which were rather of a delicate nature ; so that, its fact, I have seen mare of her during the few wed:8 we have beets together, than I could aave done after a much longer acquaintance, shackled by the common forms of ordinary life. You will not expect ect fro me adescria- tion of her person—for which I refer you to my brother ; as also for a fuller account of all the ciremustances attending the budneas that can be comprised in the compass of a letter. Without flying into raptureta—fur I must assure you that my jtolgtnent as well air my afections are consulted upon this occa- sion,—withuut flying into raptures, then, I may safe!), assure you, that her temper is sweet and cheerful, her understanding good, and, %slut I knew will give you pleasure, her principles of rehgion very serious. I have been very ex- puck with her upon the nature of nay expectations, and she thinks she can ac- commodate herself to the situation which I should wiali her to loll in society as my wife ; which, you will easily compreheuil, I wean should neither be ex- travagant nor degrading Her .fintune, though partly dependent upon her brother, who is high irs office at Madras, is very considelable—at present 500/.. a year. This, however, we must, in some degree, regard as precarious—I mean to the full extent ; and, indeed, u-liett you know her you will not be surprised that I regard this circumstance chiefly because it ren.oves those prudential con- siderations which would otherwise render our uttion inipoaaible for the present. Betwixt her income and my own profesaional exertions. I la :ye little doubt we

will be enabled to i

hold the rank n society which my family and situation en- title me to fill.

4' My dear mother, I cannot express to you the anxiety I have that v will not think me flighty nor inconsiderate in this business. Believe ow, that ex- perience, in one matance—you cannot fail to know to what I allude—is too re- cent to permit my being so hasty in my conclusious as the warinth of my temper might have otherwise prompted. I ant also moat anxious that you should he prepared to show her kindness, which I know the ,asuotiness of your owu heart will prompt ; more especially when I tell you that she is an orphan, without relations, and almost without friends. Iler guardian is, I should say was, for she is of age, Lord Dawnshire, to whom I must write for his consent —a piece of respect to which lie is entitled for his care of her—and there the matter rests at pretient. I thiuk I need trot tell you that, if I assume the new character which I threaten, I shall be happy to find that in that capacity, I may make myself more useful to my brothers, and especially to Anne, than I could in any other. On the other hand, I shall certainly expect that my friends will endeavour to show every attention n in their power to a unman who'forsaket for me prospects much more splendid than what I can offer, and who comes into Scotlaud without a single friend but myself. I find I could write a great deal mole upon this subject ; hut as it is late, and as I moat writeto my father, I shall restrain myself.' I think (but you are best judge) that in the circumstances which I stand, you should write to her, Miss Carpenter, under cover to me at a' Write to me very folly upon this important subject : send me your opinion, your advice, and, above all, your blessing; you will see the necessity of net delaying a minute in doing so, and in keeping this business strictly private, till you hear farther from me, since you arc not ignorant that even at this advanced period, an objection on the part of Lord Downshire, or litany other accidents, may intervene; in which case, I should little wish my disappointment to be " Believe me, my dear mother, ever your dutiful and affectionate son,

WA I.T1111 SCOTT."

Scott remained in Cumberland until the Jedburgh Attaizes recalled him to his legal duties. On arra:nig in that town, be immediately sent for Isis friend Shin treed ; whose memorandum moods that the evening of the gOth September 1797, was one of the !mist joyous he ever spent. " Scott," he says, " was sair beside himself about Miss Carpenter : sue toasted lter twenty times oven; and sat together, he raving about lire, until it was one in the morning." hI soon re- turret to Cumbet land ; and the following letters will tin t ow light on the cha- racter and conduct of the parties, and on the n:tture of tile difficulties, which were presented by the prodenee aud prejoilicas of the young advocate'o family conne.xions. It appears that, at one stage of the Imainesa, Scott Lad seriously contemplated leaving the bar at Edinhurath, anti estaldishing himself with Ids bride (I Lnow not in what capacity) 1ft one of the colonies. The following is from a letter to an aunt, or half-aunt ; and hints at the causes of the disapprobation which Mr. ALLAN or Mr. WEIR attentions in full.

0; her persoual accomplishments I shall only say, that she possesses very goo I sense, with tmeditimou good temper, which I have acen put to maat severe triala. I it bespeak your kinditess and friendship for her. YOU may easily Ii nicer! I shall rest very much both upon Miss R. and you for giving her the c :He de pays, when sae amines to E.diniturgli. I may give you is hint that there is aq ro:nanee ia her composition ; atol that, though horn inn France, she has the se:delimits and Jammers of an Englishwoman, and claws not like to be thought ot! erwise. A very sloght ti cae iri her mominciat hot is idi which marks the foteigiter. Sire is at joeseisi at Co lisle, where I shall jont her as soon as our arrangements are final :y made. Some difficulties have oceurted in sattling mattera with my father, owing to certain, prepossessiuns which you can easily .conceive his adopting. Oae main article was the uncertainty of her provision, which has been in part In:moved by the aafe arrival of her remittances for dna year, with assurances of their being regular and even larger in future, Iron brother's situation being extremely !Iterative. Another objection was her birth (she was, or was supposed to be, Fi elicit) ; " Can ins good thing come out of Nazareth ?" but as it was birth nam ly and solely, this has beer. alarms lamed. l'ors will be more intereated abutit other points regiuding her, :lad I can only say that, though our acquaintance was elan-ter than ever I could have theught of forming such a connexion upon, it was exceedingly close, awl gave use foll opportunities for observation, and if I hall partial with her it tnust have been for ever, which both parties began to think would he a disagreeable She has conducted herself through the whole business with so much propriety as to make a strong impression in her favour upon the minds of my father and mother, prejudiced as they were against her from the circtunatances I have

mentioned. • •C •

She is not a beauty by any means, but her person and fine are very en- gaging. She is a brunette : her manners are lively, brat, when necessary, she can be very serious. She was baptized and educated a Protestant of the Church of England. I think I have now said enough upon this subject.

These are several letters from the lady, gradually getting neer and freer, although dashed occasionally with pouts and doubts, as in these quotations. The reader must allow for her Gallicisms. -carlible. October 25th.

"Indeed, Mr. Scott, I am ha' no means pleased with all this writing. I have told you how much I dislike it, and yet you still persist in asking me to write, and that by return of post. 0, you really are quite out of your senses! I should not have indulged you. in that whim of yours, had you not given me that hint that my silence gives an air of mystery. I have no reason that can detain me in acquainting you that my father and mother were French, of the name of Charpentier : he had a place under Government : their residence was at Lamle, where you would find, on inquiries, that they lived in goad repute and in very good style. I had the misfortune of losing my father before 1 could know the value of such a parent. At his death we were left to the care of Lore) D., who was his very great friend, and very soon after I had the afflic- tion of losing my mother. Our taking the name of Carpenter was on lily brother's going to India, to prevent any little difficulties that might have occurred. I hope now you are pleased. Lord D. could have given you every information, as he has been acquainted with all toy family. You say you almost love hint, but, until your almost comes to a quite. I cannot love you. Before I conclude this famousepistle, I will give you a little hint—that is, not to put so many must in your letters; it is beginning rather too soon; and, another thing is, that I take the liberty not to mind them much, hut I expect you mind roe. You must take care of yourself; you must think of me, and believe

me yours sincerely. • • C. C." " October 31 st.

" . . . AB your apprehensions about your friends make me very uneasy. At your father's age prejudices are not easily overcome ; old people have you know, so much more wisdom and experience, that we must be guided by them. If he has an objection on my being French. I excuse him with all my heart, as I don't love them me elf. 0, how all these things plague me! when will it end ? And to complete the matter, you talk of going to the West Indies. I am cer- tain your father and uncle say you are a hot heady young man, quite mad, noel I assure you I join with them; and I must believe, that, when you have such an idea, you have then determined to think no more of me. I begin to repent of having accepted your picture. I will send it back again, if you ever think again about the West Indies. Your family then would lone me very rnuch- to forsake them few a stranger, a person who does not possess half the charms and good qualities that you imagine. I think I hear your uncle calling you a hot heady young man. I am certain of it, and I am generally right in 'My con- jectures. What does your sister say about it ? I suspect that she thinks on the matter as I should do, with fears and anxieties for the happiness of leer brother. If it be proper, and you think it would be acceptable, present my best compliments to your mother; and to my old drquaintance Captain Scott I beg to be remembered. This evening is the first ball—don't you wish to be of our parts. ? I guess your answer—it would give me infinite pleasure. En attend- ant le plaisir de vous revoir, je suis toujours votre constante, Cn aLorrx."

Many early letters of SCOTT'S are introduced in the course of the work, but they display little epistolary merit, being deficient in the grace and spirit necessary to this kind of writing. The most striking parts are his triumphant exultations on the Tory triumphs over the Scotch Friends of the People.