[Transcriber's Note:
I feel that it is important to note that this book is part
of the Caledonian series. The Caledonian series is a group
of 50 books comprising all of Sir Walter Scott's works.]
WAVERLEY
OR 'T IS SIXTY YEARS SINCE
BY SIR WALTER SCOTT
VOLUME I
PUBLISHERS' NOTE
It has long been the ambition of the present publishers to offer
to the public an ideal edition of the writings of Sir Walter
Scott, the great poet and novelist of whom William Hazlitt said,
'His works are almost like a new edition of human nature.' Secure
in the belief not only that his writings have achieved a permanent
place in the literature of the world, but that succeeding
generations will prize them still more highly, we have, after the
most careful planning and study, undertaken the publication of
this edition of the Waverley Novels and the complete poetical
writings.
It is evident that the ideal edition of a great classic must be
distinguished in typography, must present the best available text,
and must be illustrated in such a way as at once to be beautiful
in itself and to add to the reader's pleasure and his
understanding of the book. As to the typography and text, little
need be said here. The format of the edition has been most
carefully studied, and represents the use of the best resources of
The Riverside Press. The text has been carefully edited in the
light of Scott's own revisions; all of his own latest notes have
been included, glossaries have been added, and full descriptive
notes to the illustrations have been prepared which will, we hope,
add greatly to the reader's interest and instruction in the
reading of the novels and poems.
Of the illustrations, which make the special feature of this
edition, something more may be said. In the case of an author like
Sir Walter Scott, the ideal edition requires that the beautiful
and romantic scenery amid which he lived and of which he wrote
shall be adequately presented to the reader. No other author ever
used more charming backgrounds or employed them to better
advantage. To see Scotland, and to visit in person all the scenes
of the novels and poems, would enable the reader fully to
understand these backgrounds and thereby add materially to his
appreciation of the author.
Before beginning the preparation of this edition, the head of the
department having it in charge made a visit in person to the
scenes of the novels and poems, determined to explore all the
localities referred to by the author, so far as they could be
identified. The field proved even more productive than had been at
first supposed, and photographs were obtained in sufficient
quantity to illustrate all the volumes. These pictures represent
the scenes very much as Scott saw them. The natural scenery -
mountains, woods, lakes, rivers, seashore, and the like - is nearly
the same as in his day. The ruins of ancient castles and abbeys
were found to correspond very closely with his descriptions,
though in many instances he had in imagination rebuilt these ruins
and filled them with the children of his fancy. The scenes of the
stories extend into nearly every county in Scotland and through a
large part of England and Wales. All of these were thoroughly
investigated, and photographs were made of everything of interest.
One of the novels has to do with France and Belgium, one with
Switzerland, one with the Holy Land, one with Constantinople, and
one with India. For all of these lands, which Scott did not visit
in person, and therefore did not describe with the same attention
to detail as in the case of his own country, interesting pictures
of characteristic scenery were secured. By this method the
publishers have hoped to bring before the reader a series of
photographs which will not only please the eye and give a
satisfactory artistic effect to the volumes, but also increase the
reader's knowledge of the country described and add a new charm to
the delightful work of the author. In addition to the photographs,
old engravings and paintings have been reproduced for the
illustration of novels having to do with old buildings, streets,
etc., which have long since disappeared. For this material a
careful search was made in the British Museum, the Advocates'
Library and City Museum, Edinburgh, the Library at Abbotsford, the
Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris, and other collections.
It has been thought, too, that the ideal edition of Scott's works
would not be complete without an adequate portrayal of his more
memorable characters. This has been accomplished in a series of
frontispieces specially painted for this edition by twenty of the
most distinguished illustrators of England.
4 PARK STREET, BOSTON.
ADVERTISEMENT TO THE WAVERLEY NOVELS
IT has been the occasional occupation of the Author of Waverley,
for several years past, to revise and correct the voluminous
series of Novels which pass under that name, in order that, if
they should ever appear as his avowed productions, he might render
them in some degree deserving of a continuance of the public
favour with which they have been honoured ever since their first
appearance. For a long period, however, it seemed likely that the
improved and illustrated edition which he meditated would be a
posthumous publication. But the course of the events which
occasioned the disclosure of the Author's name having, in a great
measure, restored to him a sort of parental control over these
Works, he is naturally induced to give them to the press in a
corrected, and, he hopes, an improved form, while life and health
permit the task of revising and illustrating them. Such being his
purpose, it is necessary to say a few words on the plan of the
proposed Edition.
In stating it to be revised and corrected, it is not to be
inferred that any attempt is made to alter the tenor of the
stories, the character of the actors, or the spirit of the
dialogue. There is no doubt ample room for emendation in all these
points, - but where the tree falls it must lie. Any attempt to
obviate criticism, however just, by altering a work already in the
hands of the public is generally unsuccessful. In the most
improbable fiction, the reader still desires some air of
vraisemblance, and does not relish that the incidents of a tale
familiar to him should be altered to suit the taste of critics, or
the caprice of the Author himself. This process of feeling is so
natural, that it may be observed even in children, who cannot
endure that a nursery story should be repeated to them differently
from the manner in which it was first told.
But without altering, in the slightest degree, either the story or
the mode of telling it, the Author has taken this opportunity to
correct errors of the press and slips of the pen. That such should
exist cannot be wondered at, when it is considered that the
Publishers found it their interest to hurry through the press a
succession of the early editions of the various Novels, and that
the Author had not the usual opportunity of revision. It is hoped
that the present edition will be found free from errors of that
accidental kind.
The Author has also ventured to make some emendations of a
different character, which, without being such apparent deviations
from the original stories as to disturb the reader's old
associations, will, he thinks, add something to the spirit of the
dialogue, narrative, or description. These consist in occasional
pruning where the language is redundant, compression where the
style is loose, infusion of vigour where it is languid, the
exchange of less forcible for more appropriate epithets - slight
alterations in short, like the last touches of an artist, which
contribute to heighten and finish the picture, though an
inexperienced eye can hardly detect in what they consist.
The General Preface to the new Edition, and the Introductory
Notices to each separate work, will contain an account of such
circumstances attending the first publication of the Novels and
Tales as may appear interesting in themselves, or proper to be
communicated to the public. The Author also proposes to publish,
on this occasion, the various legends, family traditions, or
obscure historical facts which have formed the ground-work of
these Novels, and to give some account of the places where the
scenes are laid, when these are altogether, or in part, real; as
well as a statement of particular incidents founded on fact;
together with a more copious Glossary, and Notes explanatory of
the ancient customs and popular superstitions referred to in the
Romances.
Upon the whole, it is hoped that the Waverley Novels, in their new
dress, will not be found to have lost any part of their
attractions in consequence of receiving illustrations by the
Author, and undergoing his careful revision.
ABBOTSFORD, January, 1829.
GENERAL PREFACE TO THE WAVERLEY NOVELS
- -And must I ravel out
My weaved-up follies?
Richard II, Act IV.
Having undertaken to give an Introductory Account of the
compositions which are here offered to the public, with Notes and
Illustrations, the Author, under whose name they are now for the
first time collected, feels that he has the delicate task of
speaking more of himself and his personal concerns than may
perhaps be either graceful or prudent. In this particular he runs
the risk of presenting himself to the public in the relation that
the dumb wife in the jest-book held to her husband, when, having
spent half of his fortune to obtain the cure of her imperfection,
he was willing to have bestowed the other half to restore her to
her former condition. But this is a risk inseparable from the task
which the Author has undertaken, and he can only promise to be as
little of an egotist as the situation will permit. It is perhaps
an indifferent sign of a disposition to keep his word, that,
having introduced himself in the third person singular, he
proceeds in the second paragraph to make use of the first. But it
appears to him that the seeming modesty connected with the former
mode of writing is overbalanced by the inconvenience of stiffness
and affectation which attends it during a narrative of some
length, and which may be observed less or more in every work in
which the third person is used, from the Commentaries of Caesar to
the Autobiography of Alexander the Corrector.
I must refer to a very early period of my life, were I to point
out my first achievements as a tale-teller; but I believe some of
my old schoolfellows can still bear witness that I had a
distinguished character for that talent, at a time when the
applause of my companions was my recompense for the disgraces and
punishments which the future romance-writer incurred for being
idle himself, and keeping others idle, during hours that should
have been employed on our tasks. The chief enjoyment of my
holidays was to escape with a chosen friend, who had the same
taste with myself, and alternately to recite to each other such
wild adventures as we were able to devise. We told, each in turn,
interminable tales of knight-errantry and battles and
enchantments, which were continued from one day to another as
opportunity offered, without our ever thinking of bringing them to
a conclusion. As we observed a strict secrecy on the subject of
this intercourse, it acquired all the character of a concealed
pleasure, and we used to select for the scenes of our indulgence
long walks through the solitary and romantic environs of Arthur's
Seat, Salisbury Crags, Braid Hills, and similar places in the
vicinity of Edinburgh; and the recollection of those holidays
still forms an oasis in the pilgrimage which I have to look back
upon. I have only to add, that my friend still lives, a prosperous
gentleman, but too much occupied with graver business to thank me
for indicating him more plainly as a confidant of my childish
mystery.
When boyhood advancing into youth required more serious studies
and graver cares, a long illness threw me back on the kingdom of
fiction, as if it were by a species of fatality. My indisposition
arose, in part at least, from my having broken a blood-vessel; and
motion and speech were for a long time pronounced positively
dangerous. For several weeks I was confined strictly to my bed,
during which time I was not allowed to speak above a whisper, to
eat more than a spoonful or two of boiled rice, or to have more
covering than one thin counterpane. When the reader is informed
that I was at this time a growing youth, with the spirits,
appetite, and impatience of fifteen, and suffered, of course,
greatly under this severe regimen, which the repeated return of my
disorder rendered indispensable, he will not be surprised that I
was abandoned to my own discretion, so far as reading (my almost
sole amusement) was concerned, and still less so, that I abused
the indulgence which left my time so much at my own disposal.
There was at this time a circulating library in Edinburgh,
founded, I believe, by the celebrated Allan Ramsay, which, besides
containing a most respectable collection of books of every
description, was, as might have been expected, peculiarly rich in
works of fiction. It exhibited specimens of every kind, from the
romances of chivalry and the ponderous folios of Cyrus and
Cassandra, down to the most approved works of later times. I was
plunged into this great ocean of reading without compass or pilot;
and, unless when some one had the charity to play at chess with
me, I was allowed to do nothing save read from morning to night. I
was, in kindness and pity, which was perhaps erroneous, however
natural, permitted to select my subjects of study at my own
pleasure, upon the same principle that the humours of children are
indulged to keep them out of mischief. As my taste and appetite
were gratified in nothing else, I indemnified myself by becoming a
glutton of books. Accordingly, I believe I read almost all the
romances, old plays, and epic poetry in that formidable
collection, and no doubt was unconsciously amassing materials for
the task in which it has been my lot to be so much employed.
At the same time I did not in all respects abuse the license
permitted me. Familiar acquaintance with the specious miracles of
fiction brought with it some degree of satiety, and I began by
degrees to seek in histories, memoirs, voyages and travels, and
the like, events nearly as wonderful as those which were the work
of imagination, with the additional advantage that they were at
least in a great measure true. The lapse of nearly two years,
during which I was left to the exercise of my own free will, was
followed by a temporary residence in the country, where I was
again very lonely but for the amusement which I derived from a
good though old-fashioned library. The vague and wild use which I
made of this advantage I cannot describe better than by referring
my reader to the desultory studies of Waverley in a similar
situation, the passages concerning whose course of reading were
imitated from recollections of my own. It must be understood that
the resemblance extends no farther.
Time, as it glided on, brought the blessings of confirmed health
and personal strength, to a degree which had never been expected
or hoped for. The severe studies necessary to render me fit for my
profession occupied the greater part of my time; and the society
of my friends and companions, who were about to enter life along
with, me, filled up the interval with the usual amusements of
young men. I was in a situation which rendered serious labour
indispensable; for, neither possessing, on the one hand, any of
those peculiar advantages which are supposed to favour a hasty
advance in the profession of the law, nor being, on the other
hand, exposed to unusual obstacles to interrupt my progress, I
might reasonably expect to succeed according to the greater or
less degree of trouble which I should take to qualify myself as a
pleader.
It makes no part of the present story to detail how the success of
a few ballads had the effect of changing all the purpose and tenor
of my life, and of converting a painstaking lawyer of some years'
standing into a follower of literature. It is enough to say, that
I had assumed the latter character for several years before I
seriously thought of attempting a work of imagination in prose,
although one or two of my poetical attempts did not differ from
romances otherwise than by being written in verse. But yet I may
observe, that about this time (now, alas! thirty years since) I
had nourished the ambitious desire of composing a tale of
chivalry, which was to be in the style of the Castle of Otranto,
with plenty of Border characters and supernatural incident. Having
found unexpectedly a chapter of this intended work among some old
papers, I have subjoined it to this introductory essay, thinking
some readers may account as curious the first attempts at romantic
composition by an author who has since written so much in that
department. [Footnote: See Appendix No I.] And those who complain,
not unreasonably, of the profusion of the Tales which have
followed Waverley, may bless their stars at the narrow escape they
have made, by the commencement of the inundation, which had so
nearly taken place in the first year of the century, being
postponed for fifteen years later.
This particular subject was never resumed, but I did not abandon
the idea of fictitious composition in prose, though I determined
to give another turn to the style of the work.
My early recollections of the Highland scenery and customs made so
favourable an impression in the poem called the Lady of the Lake,
that I was induced to think of attempting something of the same
kind in prose. I had been a good deal in the Highlands at a time
when they were much less accessible and much less visited than
they have been of late years, and was acquainted with many of the
old warriors of 1745, who were, like most veterans, easily induced
to fight their battles over again for the benefit of a willing
listener like myself. It naturally occurred to me that the ancient
traditions and high spirit of a people who, living in a civilised
age and country, retained so strong a tincture of manners
belonging to an early period of society, must afford a subject
favourable for romance, if it should not prove a curious tale
marred in the telling.
It was with some idea of this kind that, about the year 1805, I
threw together about one-third part of the first volume of
Waverley. It was advertised to be published by the late Mr. John
Ballantyne, bookseller in Edinburgh, under the name of Waverley;
or, 'Tis Fifty Years Since - a title afterwards altered to 'Tis
Sixty Years Since, that the actual date of publication might be
made to correspond with the period in which the scene was laid.
Having proceeded as far, I think, as the seventh chapter, I showed
my work to a critical friend, whose opinion was unfavourable; and
having then some poetical reputation, I was unwilling to risk the
loss of it by attempting a new style of composition. I therefore
threw aside the work I had commenced, without either reluctance or
remonstrance. I ought to add that, though my ingenious friend's
sentence was afterwards reversed on an appeal to the public, it
cannot be considered as any imputation on his good taste; for the
specimen subjected to his criticism did not extend beyond the
departure of the hero for Scotland, and consequently had not
entered upon the part of the story which was finally found most
interesting.
Be that as it may, this portion of the manuscript was laid aside
in the drawers of an old writing-desk, which, on my first coming
to reside at Abbotsford in 1811, was placed in a lumber garret and
entirely forgotten. Thus, though I sometimes, among other literary
avocations, turned my thoughts to the continuation of the romance
which I had commenced, yet, as I could not find what I had already
written, after searching such repositories as were within my
reach, and was too indolent to attempt to write it anew from
memory, I as often laid aside all thoughts of that nature.
Two circumstances in particular recalled my recollection of the
mislaid manuscript. The first was the extended and well-merited
fame of Miss Edgeworth, whose Irish characters have gone so far to
make the English familiar with the character of their gay and
kind-hearted neighbours of Ireland, that she may be truly said to
have done more towards completing the Union than perhaps all the
legislative enactments by which it has been followed up.
Without being so presumptuous as to hope to emulate the rich
humour, pathetic tenderness, and admirable tact which pervade the
works of my accomplished friend, I felt that something might be
attempted for my own country, of the same kind with that which
Miss Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland - something
which might introduce her natives to those of the sister kingdom
in a more favourable light than they had been placed hitherto, and
tend to procure sympathy for their virtues and indulgence for
their foibles. I thought also, that much of what I wanted in
talent might be made up by the intimate acquaintance with the
subject which I could lay claim to possess, as having travelled
through most parts of Scotland, both Highland and Lowland, having
been familiar with the elder as well as more modern race, and
having had from my infancy free and unrestrained communication
with all ranks of my countrymen, from the Scottish peer to the
Scottish plough-man. Such ideas often occurred to me, and
constituted an ambitious branch of my theory, however far short I
may have fallen of it in practice.
But it was not only the triumphs of Miss Edgeworth which worked in
me emulation, and disturbed my indolence. I chanced actually to
engage in a work which formed a sort of essay piece, and gave me
hope that I might in time become free of the craft of romance-
writing, and be esteemed a tolerable workman.
In the year 1807-08 I undertook, at the request of John Murray,
Esq., of Albemarle Street, to arrange for publication some
posthumous productions of the late Mr. Joseph Strutt,
distinguished as an artist and an antiquary, amongst which was an
unfinished romance, entitled Queenhoo Hall. The scene of the tale
was laid in the reign of Henry VI, and the work was written to
illustrate the manners, customs, and language of the people of
England during that period. The extensive acquaintance which Mr.
Strutt had acquired with such subjects in compiling his laborious
Horda Angel-Cynnan, his Regal and Ecclesiastical Antiquities, and
his Essay on the Sports and Pastimes of the People of England had
rendered him familiar with all the antiquarian lore necessary for
the purpose of composing the projected romance; and although the
manuscript bore the marks of hurry and incoherence natural to the
first rough draught of the author, it evinced (in my opinion)
considerable powers of imagination.
As the work was unfinished, I deemed it my duty, as editor, to
supply such a hasty and inartificial conclusion as could be shaped
out from the story, of which Mr. Strutt had laid the foundation.
This concluding chapter [Footnote: See Appendix No. II.] is also
added to the present Introduction, for the reason already
mentioned regarding the preceding fragment. It was a step in my
advance towards romantic composition; and to preserve the traces
of these is in a great measure the object of this Essay.
Queenhoo Hall was not, however, very successful. I thought I was
aware of the reason, and supposed that, by rendering his language
too ancient, and displaying his antiquarian knowledge too
liberally, the ingenious author had raised up an obstacle to his
own success. Every work designed for mere amusement must be
expressed in language easily comprehended; and when, as is
sometimes the case in QUEENHOO HALL, the author addresses himself
exclusively to the antiquary, he must be content to be dismissed
by the general reader with the criticism of Mungo, in the PADLOCK,
on the Mauritanian music, 'What signifies me hear, if me no
understand?'
I conceived it possible to avoid this error; and, by rendering a
similar work more light and obvious to general comprehension, to
escape the rock on which my predecessor was shipwrecked.
But I was, on the other hand, so far discouraged by the
indifferent reception of Mr. Strutt's romance as to become
satisfied that the manners of the middle ages did not possess the
interest which I had conceived; and was led to form the opinion
that a romance founded on a Highland story and more modern events
would have a better chance of popularity than a tale of chivalry.
My thoughts, therefore, returned more than once to the tale which
I had actually commenced, and accident at length threw the lost
sheets in my way.
I happened to want some fishing-tackle for the use of a guest,
when it occurred to me to search the old writing-desk already
mentioned, in which I used to keep articles of that nature.
I got access to it with some difficulty; and, in looking for lines
and flies, the long-lost manuscript presented itself.
I immediately set to work to complete it according to my original
purpose.
And here I must frankly confess that the mode in which I conducted
the story scarcely deserved the success which the romance
afterwards attained.
The tale of WAVERLEY was put together with so little care that I
cannot boast of having sketched any distinct plan of the work. The
whole adventures of Waverley, in his movements up and down the
country with the Highland cateran Bean Lean, are managed without
much skill. It suited best, however, the road I wanted to travel,
and permitted me to introduce some descriptions of scenery and
manners, to which the reality gave an interest which the powers of
the Author might have otherwise failed to attain for them. And
though I have been in other instances a sinner in this sort, I do
not recollect any of these novels in which I have transgressed so
widely as in the first of the series.
Among other unfounded reports, it has been said that the copyright
of Waverley was, during the book's progress through the press,
offered for sale to various book-sellers in London at a very
inconsiderable price. This was not the case. Messrs. Constable and
Cadell, who published the work, were the only persons acquainted
with the contents of the publication, and they offered a large sum
for it while in the course of printing, which, however, was
declined, the Author not choosing to part with the copyright.
The origin of the story of Waverley, and the particular facts on
which it is founded, are given in the separate introduction
prefixed to that romance in this edition, and require no notice in
this place.
Waverley was published in 1814, and, as the title-page was
without the name of the Author, the work was left to win its way
in the world without any of the usual recommendations. Its
progress was for some time slow; but after the first two or three
months its popularity had increased in a degree which must have
satisfied the expectations of the Author, had these been far more
sanguine than he ever entertained.
Great anxiety was expressed to learn the name of the Author, but
on this no authentic information could be attained. My original
motive for publishing the work anonymously was the consciousness
that it was an experiment on the public taste which might very
probably fail, and therefore there was no occasion to take on
myself the personal risk of discomfiture. For this purpose
considerable precautions were used to preserve secrecy. My old
friend and schoolfellow, Mr. James Ballantyne, who printed these
Novels, had the exclusive task of corresponding with the Author,
who thus had not only the advantage of his professional talents,
but also of his critical abilities. The original manuscript, or,
as it is technically called, copy, was transcribed under Mr.
Ballantyne's eye by confidential persons; nor was there an
instance of treachery during the many years in which these
precautions were resorted to, although various individuals were
employed at different times. Double proof-sheets were regularly
printed off. One was forwarded to the Author by Mr. Ballantyne,
and the alterations which it received were, by his own hand,
copied upon the other proof-sheet for the use of the printers, so
that even the corrected proofs of the Author were never seen in
the printing office; and thus the curiosity of such eager
inquirers as made the most minute investigation was entirely at
fault.
But although the cause of concealing the Author's name in the
first instance, when the reception of Waverley was doubtful, was
natural enough, it is more difficult, it may be thought, to
account for the same desire for secrecy during the subsequent
editions, to the amount of betwixt eleven and twelve thousand
copies, which followed each other close, and proved the success of
the work. I am sorry I can give little satisfaction to queries on
this subject. I have already stated elsewhere that I can render
little better reason for choosing to remain anonymous than by
saying with Shylock, that such was my humour. It will be observed
that I had not the usual stimulus for desiring personal
reputation, the desire, namely, to float amidst the conversation
of men. Of literary fame, whether merited or undeserved, I had
already as much as might have contented a mind more ambitious than
mine; and in entering into this new contest for reputation I might
be said rather to endanger what I had than to have any
considerable chance of acquiring more. I was affected, too, by
none of those motives which, at an earlier period of life, would
doubtless have operated upon me. My friendships were formed, my
place in society fixed, my life had attained its middle course. My
condition in society was higher perhaps than I deserved, certainly
as high as I wished, and there was scarce any degree of literary
success which could have greatly altered or improved my personal
condition.
I was not, therefore, touched by the spur of ambition, usually
stimulating on such occasions; and yet I ought to stand exculpated
from the charge of ungracious or unbecoming indifference to public
applause. I did not the less feel gratitude for the public favour,
although I did not proclaim it; as the lover who wears his
mistress's favour in his bosom is as proud, though not so vain, of
possessing it as another who displays the token of her grace upon
his bonnet. Far from such an ungracious state of mind, I have
seldom felt more satisfaction than when, returning from a pleasure
voyage, I found Waverley in the zenith of popularity, and public
curiosity in full cry after the name of the Author. The knowledge
that I had the public approbation was like having the property of
a hidden treasure, not less gratifying to the owner than if all
the world knew that it was his own. Another advantage was
connected with the secrecy which I observed. I could appear or
retreat from the stage at pleasure, without attracting any
personal notice or attention, other than what might be founded on
suspicion only. In my own person also, as a successful author in
another department of literature, I might have been charged with
too frequent intrusions on the public patience; but the Author of
Waverley was in this respect as impassible to the critic as the
Ghost of Hamlet to the partisan of Marcellus. Perhaps the
curiosity of the public, irritated by the existence of a secret,
and kept afloat by the discussions which took place on the subject
from time to time, went a good way to maintain an unabated
interest in these frequent publications. There was a mystery
concerning the Author which each new novel was expected to assist
in unravelling, although it might in other respects rank lower
than its predecessors.
I may perhaps be thought guilty of affectation, should I allege as
one reason of my silence a secret dislike to enter on personal
discussions concerning my own literary labours. It is in every
case a dangerous intercourse for an author to be dwelling
continually among those who make his writings a frequent and
familiar subject of conversation, but who must necessarily be
partial judges of works composed in their own society. The habits
of self-importance which are thus acquired by authors are highly
injurious to a well-regulated mind; for the cup of flattery, if it
does not, like that of Circe, reduce men to the level of beasts,
is sure, if eagerly drained, to bring the best and the ablest down
to that of fools. This risk was in some degree prevented by the
mask which I wore; and my own stores of self-conceit were left to
their natural course, without being enhanced by the partiality of
friends or adulation of flatterers.
If I am asked further reasons for the conduct I have long
observed, I can only resort to the explanation supplied by a
critic as friendly as he is intelligent; namely, that the mental
organisation of the novelist must be characterised, to speak
craniologically, by an extraordinary development of the passion
for delitescency! I the rather suspect some natural disposition of
this kind; for, from the instant I perceived the extreme curiosity
manifested on the subject, I felt a secret satisfaction in
baffling it, for which, when its unimportance is considered, I do
not well know how to account.
My desire to remain concealed, in the character of the Author of
these Novels, subjected me occasionally to awkward embarrassments,
as it sometimes happened that those who were sufficiently intimate
with me would put the question in direct terms. In this case, only
one of three courses could be followed. Either I must have
surrendered my secret, or have returned an equivocating answer,
or, finally, must have stoutly and boldly denied the fact. The
first was a sacrifice which I conceive no one had a right to force
from me, since I alone was concerned in the matter. The
alternative of rendering a doubtful answer must have left me open
to the degrading suspicion that I was not unwilling to assume the
merit (if there was any) which I dared not absolutely lay claim
to; or those who might think more justly of me must have received
such an equivocal answer as an indirect avowal. I therefore
considered myself entitled, like an accused person put upon trial,
to refuse giving my own evidence to my own conviction, and flatly
to deny all that could not be proved against me. At the same time
I usually qualified my denial by stating that, had I been the
Author of these works, I would have felt myself quite entitled to
protect my secret by refusing my own evidence, when it was asked
for to accomplish a discovery of what I desired to conceal.
The real truth is, that I never expected or hoped to disguise my
connection with these Novels from any one who lived on terms of
intimacy with me. The number of coincidences which necessarily
existed between narratives recounted, modes of expression, and
opinions broached in these Tales and such as were used by their
Author in the intercourse of private life must have been far too
great to permit any of my familiar acquaintances to doubt the
identity betwixt their friend and the Author of Waverley; and I
believe they were all morally convinced of it. But while I was
myself silent, their belief could not weigh much more with the
world than that of others; their opinions and reasoning were
liable to be taxed with partiality, or confronted with opposing
arguments and opinions; and the question was not so much whether I
should be generally acknowledged to be the Author, in spite of my
own denial, as whether even my own avowal of the works, if such
should be made, would be sufficient to put me in undisputed
possession of that character.
I have been often asked concerning supposed cases, in which I was
said to have been placed on the verge of discovery; but, as I
maintained my point with the composure of a lawyer of thirty
years' standing, I never recollect being in pain or confusion on
the subject. In Captain Medwyn's Conversations of Lord Byron the
reporter states himself to have asked my noble and highly gifted
friend,' If he was certain about these Novels being Sir Walter
Scott's?' To which Lord Byron replied, 'Scott as much as owned
himself the Author of Waverley to me in Murray's shop. I was
talking to him about that Novel, and lamented that its Author had
not carried back the story nearer to the time of the Revolution.
Scott, entirely off his guard, replied, "Ay, I might have done so;
but - " there he stopped. It was in vain to attempt to correct
himself; he looked confused, and relieved his embarrassment by a
precipitate retreat.' I have no recollection whatever of this
scene taking place, and I should have thought that I was more
likely to have laughed than to appear confused, for I certainly
never hoped to impose upon Lord Byron in a case of the kind; and
from the manner in which he uniformly expressed himself, I knew
his opinion was entirely formed, and that any disclamations of
mine would only have savoured of affectation. I do not mean to
insinuate that the incident did not happen, but only that it could
hardly have occurred exactly under the circumstances narrated,
without my recollecting something positive on the subject. In
another part of the same volume Lord Byron is reported to have
expressed a supposition that the cause of my not avowing myself
the Author of Waverley may have been some surmise that the
reigning family would have been displeased with the work. I can
only say, it is the last apprehension I should have entertained,
as indeed the inscription to these volumes sufficiently proves.
The sufferers of that melancholy period have, during the last and
present reign, been honoured both with the sympathy and protection
of the reigning family, whose magnanimity can well pardon a sigh
from others, and bestow one themselves, to the memory of brave
opponents, who did nothing in hate, but all in honour.
While those who were in habitual intercourse with the real author
had little hesitation in assigning the literary property to him,
others, and those critics of no mean rank, employed themselves in
investigating with persevering patience any characteristic
features which might seem to betray the origin of these Novels.
Amongst these, one gentleman, equally remarkable for the kind and
liberal tone of his criticism, the acuteness of his reasoning, and
the very gentlemanlike manner in which he conducted his inquiries,
displayed not only powers of accurate investigation, but a temper
of mind deserving to be employed on a subject of much greater
importance; and I have no doubt made converts to his opinion of
almost all who thought the point worthy of consideration.
[Footnote: Letters on the Author of Waverly; Rodwell and Martin,
London, 1822.] Of those letters, and other attempts of the same
kind, the Author could not complain, though his incognito was
endangered. He had challenged the public to a game at bo-peep, and
if he was discovered in his 'hiding-hole,' he must submit to the
shame of detection.
Various reports were of course circulated in various ways; some
founded on an inaccurate rehearsal of what may have been partly