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his prosperity: but the fall was as sudden as it had been unforeseen.

When Mr. Ballantyne started business as printer in Edinburgh he had little or no capital, and Scott on several occasions advanced him money. It was at length agreed that he should have a share in the business, and Ballantyne & Co. added publishing to printing. Scott, though exceedingly methodical in his private affairs, never interfered in the business, or he must have been aware that it was not in a very healthy condition. The commercial crisis of 1825 was trying to the most established firms, and many, both in London and Edinburgh, became bankrupt. Among these was the firm of Ballantyne, and the debts amounted to £130,000. To meet these claims Ballantyne had no assets whatever, and Scott was looked to as the only responsible partner in the firm. Of course he might have put his affairs into the hands of his creditors, paid a dividend, and then have begun again, free from all liabilities. But his sense of honour would not allow him to do this: he wished to pay off every farthing. It was at length agreed that he should be left in possession of Abbotsford, on his pledging himself to dispose immediately of all his other property, to limit the cost of his living to his official income, and, continuing his literary labours, to pay off his debts by his pen.

He set to work doggedly to his task. When his misfortunes overtook him he was busy with Woodstock and the Life of Napoleon. These he continued with unabated diligence, not even ceasing from work on the day when the tidings of his ruin reached him. Such was his diligence and assiduity that he wrote one-third of Woodstock in a fortnight. The novel was published in April 1826, and the first edition realised above £8000. His Life of Napoleon was completed in the following year, and the first and second editions brought the creditors the sum of £18,000. In two years he had paid off £40,000, and in the course of four years had cleared nearly £70,000. Among other works written at this time were the Fair

Maid of Perth, the Chronicles of the Canongate, the Tales of a Grandfather, and Anne of Geierstein.

But now his health began to give way.

In February

1830 he had an attack of paralysis, and fell on the floor insensible. He recovered, however, from its effects, and set to work with renewed energy. To obtain more time for his literary work he resigned his clerkship, on a retiring allowance, and fixed his permanent residence at Abbotsford. His mind, however, had lost its vigour, as may be seen in Count Robert of Paris and Castle Dangerous, which were written at this period. He was at length persuaded to abandon literary exertion, after another severe attack in April 1831. He was prevailed upon to undertake a voyage for the good of his health, and the Admiralty furnished him with a ship of war, which conveyed him to Malta and Naples. In Italy he stayed about five months, and returned to London in June 1832. Another attack almost prostrated his mental powers, and after the lapse of a few weeks he was conveyed to Abbotsford almost in a state of unconsciousness. He continued in this condition with occasional gleams of intelligence until 21st Sept., when he breathed his last in the presence of all his children. He was buried by the side of his wife who had died five years previously-in the old abbey of Dryburgh. It is satisfactory to know that the heavy debts which he struggled so manfully to pay, were, after his death, entirely liquidated by the profits upon the collected editions of his works:

"The glory dies not, and the grief is past.

Sir Walter Scott stands at the head of English novel writers. In his knowledge of human nature, and in his power of delineating character, he is second only to Shakespeare; and in one respect he is perhaps superior to the immortal poet. In the words of an eminent writer: "He has been able to mark most distinctly the age to which each separate story belongs, by a modification in the style and language of the dialogue, by a careful avoidance of anachronisms, by representing his characters as

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knowing neither more nor less than was appropriate to persons in their respective spheres, and by the most minute and careful attention to manners and costume; while Shakespeare, on the contrary, very rarely and never strongly, indicates period by language-his characters for the most part might belong to any age, and not unfrequently they are made to talk even absurdly and incongruously."

In this power of reproducing the past lies the great charm of Scott's works. The characters of byegone times again live and act. Their dress, manner of living, sports, and occupations are brought vividly before us; we sympathise in their misfortune, share their hopes, and rejoice in their success. Nor is the author less successful in characters of his own creation. To us they are living realities, and we think and speak of them as of persons whom we have known. Dandie Dinmont, Edie Ochiltree, and Jeanie Deans are efforts of genius unsurpassed in the whole range of fiction. To this power of delineating character must be added his vigour in describing natural scenery, his genial humour, his good taste and generous nature. Nor when we compare Scott with our earlier novelists, Fielding, Smollet, and Sterne, shall be ungrateful for the purity of his pages, and the absence of everything that might shock good manners or religious principles.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.-1772-1834.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE was born at Ottery St. Mary, Devon, Oct. 21, 1772. His father, the Rev. John Coleridge, was vicar of the parish, and is said to have been equally distinguished for learning and for his singularly amiable qualities. Samuel Taylor was the youngest of a numerous family, and being left an orphan at nine years of age, he was placed on the foundation of Christ's Hospital. Among his contemporaries at this noble

educational establishment were Leigh Hunt and Charles Lamb, and with the latter Coleridge formed a friendship which lasted throughout his life. His progress in classical studies was at this time very satisfactory, and before completing his fifteenth year he had translated some Greek hymns into English verse. Even at this early age he showed a preference for those abstruse studies which distinguished him later in life. He was exceedingly fond of metaphysics and theological controversy; history had no charms for him, and even novels, romances, and poetry were deemed insipid.

He was an insatiable reader, and a curious accident obtained him access to a large library. He was wandering one day through the crowded Strand, utterly oblivious of everything around him, his mind busy with the story of Leander who swam across the Hellespont to visit his beloved Hero. Absorbed in the mental vision in which he was indulging, his hands unconsciously moved as in the act of swimming, when suddenly he was aroused by an exclamation-"What! so young and so wicked!" His hands had come in close proximity with the watch of a gentleman who was passing, and he was mistaken for a pickpocket. The little dreamer told the whole truth, the gentleman became interested in him, and procured him access to a circulating library. Reading henceforth became his constant occupation, and the books he devoured were of a very miscellaneous character. Among others he read Voltaire's "Philosophical Dictionary." The arguments to him appeared conclusive, and he announced to Mr. Bowyer, the head-master, that he was an infidel. The master did not enter in discussion with his young pupil, but gave him a sound flogging! The argument thus applied, was convincing; and Coleridge gave up his scepticism. In after life he said this was the only just flogging his master ever gave him.

From his metaphysical and theological studies, Coleridge was diverted for a time by the perusal of the sonnets of William Lisle Bowles, which aroused his poetical faculty. So pleased was he with the sonnets that, it is

said, he wrote out forty copies of them for distribution among his friends. At this time he seems to have had no ambition, except to secure an honest livelihood, and he actually thought of apprenticing himself to a shoemaker who lived near the school; but the head-master again interfered, and prevented him from carrying his purpose into effect. He became in due time head scholar of Christ's Hospital, and, having obtained an exhibition, he entered Jesus College, Cambridge, in 1791.

The reputation which he had gained at school seemed to foreshadow a brilliant career at the university. He speedily distinguished himself by winning a gold medal for a Greek ode on the Slave Trade. In various subsequent competitions, however, his efforts did not meet with corresponding success. His studies were somewhat desultory, and he often regretted afterwards that he had not applied himself more diligently to mathematics. But at this time the whole of Europe was excited by the events of the French Revolution, and Coleridge with all the ardour of youth hailed the struggle as the harbinger of a new and brighter day. Severe studies had now little charms for him; his room was the resort of enthusiastic politicians from among his fellow students, and he astonished them by those conversational powers for which he was afterwards so distinguished. He did not remain at Cambridge long enough to obtain a degree. In the second year of his residence he suddenly quitted the university and went to London. What was the precise cause of this sudden departure is matter of dispute. Some of his biographers say that his religious and political principles made his longer stay impossible. Others, that he left in despondency owing to an affair of unrequited love. After wandering for some time through the streets of the metropolis in great pecuniary distress, he enlisted in the 15th Dragoons, as a private soldier, under the assumed name of Silas Tomken Cumberbatch.

We are told that when he arrived at the quarters of the regiment, the officer who inspected the recruits looked very doubtfully at him, and asked him for what purpose

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