connected with the Life of the Emperor, and to his usual routine of country business and country pleasure. It is impressive to remark that not one of that proud cluster survives!

But now, as Lockhart has it, "the muffled drum was in prospect." The fabric of prosperity which Scott had reared with such prodigious labour, and which seemed to him and others as solid as Ben Nevis, was about to sink like a castle in the clouds, and to leave to the architect only the reality of ruin. We have neither room nor inclination, nor sufficient knowledge of the ways of business, to dilate at large on the particular causes and circumstances of the well-known catastrophe. Two or three remarks, founded on a perusal of the documents on both sides of the controversy excited by Lockhart's Life, may, however, be adventured.

Scott, it is well known, had established a business as a printer and bookseller in connexion with the Ballantynes. Owing to various causes, the bookselling firm was utterly unsuccessful. When wound up, a vast amount of useless stock had been accumulated; but this, by successive forced sales to Constable and others, Scott ultimately cleared off, and so paid the debts of the concern in full.

After John Ballantyne's death, James Ballantyne and Scott entered into a new partnership; James, besides, acting as Scott's agent in procuring and paying money, which was accomplished, as is well known, by means of bills drawn for literary work done, or even to be done, by Scott for the booksellers; but very frequently also, by having recourse to mere accommodation bills. The enormous expense of this system, the extravagance of Sir Walter's building schemes and style of living, the diminished sale and overmultiplied editions of the novels, and the complications of the whole business with Constable's firm, on whom most of these bills were drawn, paved the way for the tremendous smash, which was precipi tated by a great commercial panic; so that, on the failure of Hurst & Co., and Constable, which became certain on the 16th of January 1826, Scott found himself a debtor to the extent of about £120,000, besides a personal debt of £10,000. In addition to this very general outline of the facts, there

are two or three points to be noticed. In the first place, when Scott entered into partnership with the two Ballantynes, there was unquestionably a certain inequality between the parties, Scott bringing not only (after a short while) more capital into the firm, but immense literary influence, which procured a copious supply of work for the Ballantyne press. Still, 2dly, the minor partners were by no means so inferior to Scott as Lockhart pretends. James brought some capital, and great talent, both as a printer and as a littérateur, to the business. John had pleasant manners, accomplishments, vivacity, and enthusiasm; and both had unbounded attachment to Sir Walter. 3dly, Scott undoubtedly, as he had the chief share in raising, had also the chief share in ruining the original firm, effecting this by a number of unsaleable publications, partly his own and partly by other hands, such as an ill-edited edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, a cumbrous series of "British Novelists," an able but heavy "History of the Culdees," and so forth. 4thly, To stem the torrent of disaster he had himself, in a great measure, let loose, Scott manfully and nobly strove; and to the failure of John Ballantyne & Co. we owe some of the finest productions of his genius. 5thly, Lockhart has in vain pretended that Scott was inattentive to business, "a magician wrapt in mists," &c. The facts that he demanded, in one instance, fifteen per cent. for a sum of money he lent to the firm; that he foisted off, as we have said, John Ballantyne & Co.'s bad stock upon Constable and other booksellers with whom he had transactions; and that, notwithstanding his intricate and enormous money connexions with James Ballantyne, he, without his knowledge, alienated his estate, mansion, &c., and settled them, in 1825, on his eldest son: these facts, and the whole tenor of his correspondence, prove, to say the least, a most minute and lynx-eyed, if not a self-seeking, attention to his own personal interests. 6thly, While not freeing the Ballantynes from blame, in point of imprudence and extravagance, they were, in these respects, left far behind by their illustrious partner, whose love of family aggrandisement, and whose passion for accumulating land and for baronial hospi

tality, amounted to a degree of derangement. And, finally, whatever may be thought of the relative shares of fault contracted by the different parties in these complicated transactions, there should be but one opinion as to the conduct of Scott's biographer. None but a Lockhart, the ungenial sonin-law of a most genial sire, could or durst defend a Lockhart's conduct, in seeking to blast with scorn two men whom Scott had honoured with his confidence and affection,—who had shared in his success,-one, and in a measure both, of whom had been ruined by him, and who absolutely idolised as well as materially served him. He that allows the biographer to be swallowed up in the satirist, who pollutes the stream of the record of a celebrated man's life by foul and gratuitous personalities, may be compared to the Oriental despot, who offers up all the kindred of a deceased king as a propitiation to his manes. Now Lockhart has done all this. In his reply to the first pamphlet published by the Trustees of Mr James Ballantyne, his usual talent deserts him, while it abounds in more than his wonted hauteur,-the reasoning is as feeble as the language is coarse, and his whole spirit reminds you of that of a pampered menial who uses liberties of insolent language which his master would disdain. From the whole subject we may draw the conclusion, that the less a man of genius, however acute, entangles himself in the complications of this world's affairs, the better for his peace and prosperity. In our "Life of Shakspeare," we commended his prudence as an example to literary men; but there is a vast difference between prudence and uneasy, reckless speculation-between an independent spirit, and the "making haste to be rich."

Scott, a day or two ere he heard Constable's stability questioned, had begun a "Diary," in avowed imitation of Byron's "Ravenna Journal," and each is very characteristic of each poet. We are afraid, however, that the keeping of a "Diary" is, in most instances, a morbid symptom, and that Scott, in the heyday of his powers, would have disdained the collecting of such a dish of orts and leavings. Still his "Diary" is intensely interesting, and reveals, better than any biographical statement could do, the hidden man, or rather woman, of his

heart, the amiable weaknesses, the old sores, and unforgotten sorrows, the palpitations of spirit, and incipient frailty of brain which the brave man concealed from the world under a firm and almost stern outward deportment. The state of his affairs became publicly known in January, and excited universal sympathy. His determination was speedily formed. He reduced his establishment, and took a lodging in town. He surrendered everything to his creditors, saying, "My own right hand shall pay my debts;" and with a quietness and depth of resolution almost superhuman he sat down, under the darkened sky of his fortunes, with a constitution prematurely old, a heart wounded, and a brain partially enfeebled, to execute his gigantic literary projects. He began the novel of "Woodstock," continued his "Life of Napoleon," and found time besides for writing his "Letters of Malachi Malagrowther" on the monetary questions of that agitated period. He had, besides his own afflictions, the distress of his favourite grandchild, John Hugh Lockhart, at this time to bear. And to crown all, just when "Woodstock" was finished, his poor wife, who had been some time ailing, died on the 15th of May. He lamented her with sincere sorrow; and notwithstanding some tempting offers of ladies with rank and fortune, he never wedded again.

"Woodstock," however, was successful, having been sold for the large sum of £8228, and better received, probably, by the public on account of the sympathy felt for his misfortunes; and this came on him like a gleam of sunshine in a cloudy eve. "Woodstock" does not certainly equal the first of his novels; it is here and there tedious; nor is his portrait of Cromwell worthy of the theme, but it has many scenes and passages of striking interest, and the characters and connexion together of Sir Henry Lee and his daughter are exquisitely beautiful. He no sooner finished this novel than he commenced "The Chronicles of the Canongate," alternating it with his regular task, "The Life of Napoleon." These labours he now carried on not merely in the morning before breakfast, which had long been his chief time for composition, but in the evening, as well as in the forenoon, to the great

detriment of his health. In October he interrupted, or rather varied, his toils, by a journey, undertaken along with his unmarried daughter Anne, to London and Paris, in search of materials for "Napoleon." At London he saw many of his old friends, dining once especially with Wellington, Peel, Canning, and the other members of the Liverpool Cabinet, and saying, having perceived the elements of discord already fermenting amongst them, when he returned, "I have seen some of these great men together at the same table for the last time.” At Paris the honours of his Irish reception were renewed with interest. On his return to Scotland in the end of November, he took a house in Walker Street, Edinburgh, and spent there the winter months, tormented with rheumatisms, which he had caught in France from damp sheets, and often sunk in deep depressions; but ill or well, serene or melancholy, always tugging on at the oar.

On the 23d of February 1827, at the Theatrical Fund Dinner, in reply to the "soft impeachment" of Lord Meadowbank, he owned the sole and undivided authorship of the Waverley Novels,-an announcement received with tumultuous enthusiasm. The secret had ceased to be one from the date of his failure. It had been well kept, considering that more than twenty persons were in his confidence on the subject. In June appeared, in nine volumes, the "Life of Napoleon," and, first and second editions included, realised the enormous sum of £18,000. He had written it in little more than a year, and, to say the truth, the composition bears marks of haste on its every page. Many of the descriptions, especially of battles, are worthy of the great novelist, and its spirit, particularly in reference to Napoleon himself, is wonderfully impartial; but, as a whole, it ranks rather with compilations than with works of genuine history. In profound political and philosophical sagacity it is deficient; its style is, in some parts, exceedingly bald and careless, and in others too florid for narrative; and, indeed, as a composition, it is not nearly so good, clear, compact, and nervous as Lockhart's own two little volumes of Napoleon's Life, published in the "Family Library." Its effect on the public was a mixture of wonder, sympathy, con