SIR WALTER SCOTT. WALTER SCOTT (1771-1832) was descended from an old Border family, and was born in Edinburgh, where his father was a Writer to the Signet. After passing through the High School and the University of Edinburgh, he was apprenticed to his father, and, in 1792, was called to the Scotch bar. Apart from his professional work, however, he found time for wide miscellaneous reading and for long rambles in the Highland and Border counties, thus storing his mind with antiquarian knowledge and legendary lore. His military enthusiasm found vent in a yeomanry regiment, which he joined in 1797. Two years later he received the office of Sheriff of Selkirkshire, and, in 1806, also that of a principal Clerk of the Court of Session, both of which he retained till within two years of his death. Legally bound by his sheriffship to reside in his county, he took, in addition to his Edinburgh house, a lease of the estate of Ashestiel, on the Tweed. There he lived from 1804-1812, till his growing wealth enabled him to buy some land farther down the river, near Melrose, where he built the magnificent baronial mansion of Abbotsford, which became his residence for the remainder of his days. At Abbotsford he lived the life of a wealthy Scottish laird, indulging in land-purchases, building, sports, and a boundless hospitality, and being idolized by a happy family circle and numerous friends and dependents. With his growing fame, besides a large fortune, honours came crowding upon him, and, in 1820, he was even created a Baronet. In 1826, however, his prosperous career was suddenly stopped; for unfortunately he had, at an early period (1805), secretly entered into partnership with his printers, the Ballantynes; and their failure, during the great commercial crisis of 1825, involved his ruin, and made him liable for no less than 117,000l. He at once heroically set to work to clear off his debt by extraordinary literary exertions, and practically achieved this end. But the nervous strain on his brain was too great, and his health broke down under it. A winter spent in Italy brought no relief; and, on his journey home, he was prostrated by a new attack of apoplexy and paralysis, from which he died a few months later at Abbotsford. was buried at Dryburgh Abbey, near Melrose. He The Stimulated by Henry Mackenzie's famous lecture on German literature (1788), Scott began his literary career with translations from the German of Bürger and Goethe. Bürger's Lenore directed his interest to the old English and Scotch ballads, of which he published a valuable collection under the title of The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (1802-1803). In hunting for ballads he also hit upon the goblin story out of which he developed his first original verse-tale of Border chivalry, The Lay of the Last Minstrel (1805). The immediate and brilliant success of this romance he speedily followed up with several other tales of war and love, such as Marmion, a Tale of Flodden Field (1808), The Lady of the Lake (1810), Rokeby (1813), and The Lord of the Isles (1815), which, in spite of a certain bareness, ring with the clamour of battle scenes and the dash of daring rides, and give us vivid images of the chivalry of the feudal times, as well as strongly drawn pictures of Border and Highland scenery. highest point of his genius was, however, attained, not in his verse-narratives, but in his prose romances, in which he struck a new vein, and, by blending historical fact with romantic fancy, created a new genre, the 'historical novel', which soon was taken up by a crowd of imitators, in England as well as in America and on the European continent. Waverley, or 'Tis Sixty Years Since (1814) was the first of a splendid series of 29 historical novels, which he issued, with marvellous fertility, during the next 18 years, and which are generally known under the name of the 'Waverley Novels'. They were all published anonymously, and the identity of the author, though guessed by his friends, was not publicly acknowledged till 1827. The favourite scene of his novels is the Scotland of the 17th and 18th centuries, the life and manners of which he depicts, with wonderful vivacity and local colour, in his earlier romances, Waverley (1814), Guy Mannering (1815), The Antiquary (1816), Old Mortality (1816), Rob Roy (1818), The Heart of Midlothian (1818), The Bride of Lammermoor (1819), The Legend of Montrose (1819), as well as in the late Redgauntlet (1824). Later on he extended his province also to English history (Ivanhoe 1819, Kenilworth 1821, The Fortunes of Nigel 1822), Elizabethan and Medieval Scotland (The Monastery and The Abbot 1820, The Fair Maid of Perth 1828), and the Continent (Quentin Durward 1823). In spite of numerous divergencies from history and, often, a tiring profuseness of description and carelessness of construction, all these novels captivate the reader by a marvellous richness of invention, vivid and picturesque representation of times and scenery, and by a vast variety of well-marked characters, some of which display a wonderful dry humour. The mere working faculty of Scott becomes simply amazing when we look at the bulk of historical, biographical, and miscellaneous work which he produced in addition to his poems and novels. Of such work we mention only his editions of the Middle English romance of Sir Tristrem (1804), of the Works of Dryden (1808) and Swift (1814), the voluminous, but unsuccessful Life of Napoleon Buonaparte (1827), and the attempt to adapt the history of Scotland to the mind of children, entitled The Tales of a Grandfather (1828-1831), which, for its simple style, enjoys a great popularity down to the present day. THE FIERY CROSS. [From The Lady of the Lake, Canto III, 11. 282--600 (1810)] XII. Then Roderick, with impatient look, "The muster-place be Lanrick mead Instant the time speed, Malise, speed!' 10 So rapidly the barge-men row, The bubbles, where they launched the boat, Dancing in foam and ripple still, When it had neared the mainland hill; 15 And from the silver beach's side Still was the prow three fathom wide, 1 When a chieftain designed to summon his clan, upon any sudden or important emergency, he slew a goat, and making a cross of any light wood, seared its extremities in the fire, and extinguished them in the blood of the animal. This was called the Fiery Cross, also Crean Tarigh, or the Cross of Shame, because disobedience to what the symbol implied, inferred infamy. It was delivered to a swift and trusty messenger, who ran full speed with it to the next hamlet, where he presented it to the principal person, with a single word, implying the place of rendezvous. He who received the symbol was bound to send it forwards, with equal dispatch, to the next village; and thus it passed with incredible celerity through all metre the district which owed allegiance to the chief, and also among his allies and neighbours, if the danger was common to them. At sight of the Fiery Cross, every man, from sixteen years old to sixty, capable of bearing arms, was obliged instantly to repair, in his best arms and accoutrements, to the place of rendezvous. He who failed to appear, suffered the extremities of fire and sword, which were emblematically denounced to the disobedient by the bloody and burned marks upon this warlike signal. During the civil war of 1745-1746, the Fiery Cross often made its circuit; and upon one occasion it passed through the whole district of Breadalbane, a tract of thirty-two miles, in three hours. (Walter Scott.) XIII Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide 20 On fleeter foot was never tied. Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, Stretch onward in thy fleet career! 85 The wounded hind thou track'st not now, Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough, Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace With rivals in the mountain race; But danger, death, and warrior deed, 40 Are in thy course speed, Malise, speed! XIV. Fast as the fatal symbol flies, In arms the huts and hamlets rise; The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 65 The lark's blithe carol from the cloud, 76 XV. Speed, Malise, speed! the lake is past, And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, And o'er him streams his widow's tear. How sound is thy slumber! Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 130 Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 135 Back to her opened arms he flew, Then, like the high-bred colt, when freed 145 He vanished, and o'er moor and moss While yet his footsteps she could hear; |