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GALT'S MORTIFIED VANITY.

lordship, and far mair domineerin ower his inferiors, if any such there were on board o' the Gibraltar Packet.

North. No doubt. For Mr Galt tells us that he was very hypochondriacal, and seems to say that he was voyaging for no other purpose than to raise his spirits. Well for him that he could afford to do so-but whatever might have been the tone of his temper then, it says little in favour of it now, that he should have given such a colour to the trifling infirmities or caprices of temper exhibited, as he says, by an illustrious young nobleman, at the very time he was receiving from him the most amiable condescensions.

Shepherd. Was Galt, think ye, ever very intimate wi' Byron ?

North. Never. Still he saw something of him; and it might not have been much amiss to tell us what were his impressions. But James-it was his sacred duty, before doing so, to sift his own soul, and see that no mean or paltry feeling or motive was lurking there-that he was not wincing under the wound of mortified vanity—

Shepherd. Ay, sir, there's the rub. Vanity o' vanities! A' is vanity!

North. It seems that his lordship occasionally, in his letters, laughed at Mr Galt; and that, on one occasion, he expressed himself somewhat contemptuously of our friend's literary achievements. One or two harmless gibes of this kind appear in Moore's Life of Byron; and, though far from bitter, they seem to have enfixed themselves, "inextricable as the gored lion's bite." Mr Galt tries to hide his deep and sincere mortification under a shallow and assumed magnanimity; but it will not do-no, James and John, it will not do and the recollection of a single splenetic sentence throws a shadow over almost every page of the Biography, and induces Mr Galt, sometimes, we daresay, unconsciously and unawares, to wind up almost every paragraph with some assertion or limitation slightly or severely injurious to the personal character of the Illustrious Unfortunate.

Shepherd. I wunna ca' that wicked-for that's a strang word—but it was weak-weak-weak-and will be seen through by the saun-blin'.'

North. I wish to set my friend Galt right upon this point.

1 Saun-blin'-sandblind.

HIS BOOK IS CLEVER.

77

At the time Byron spoke of his being "the last person in the world on whom he could wish to commit plagiary," not one of our excellent and ingenious friend's many admirable tales had been even imagined-and the few attempts he had then made in literature-though bearing clear and even bright marks of genius-had been rather unfortunate. Mr Galt stood, and deserved to stand, very low as an author. We can sympathise with Byron's horror at being charged with plagiarism from such tragedies.' But Galt came to know at last where his strength lay—and his genius has been crowned with fame. All his contemporaries now acknowledge his extraordinary powers; and though at no time can we imagine that the author of Childe Harold and Manfred would have stolen jewels for his crown from that of the author of the Annals of the Parish, the Ayrshire Legatees, the Provost, and the Entail; yet there can be no doubt that he must have recognised the rare, singular, and original genius conspicuously displayed throughout all these admirable productions. Why then should Mr Galt's "fundamental features" have been thrown off their hinges by so slight a shock?

Shepherd. Isna the book clever?

North. It is. Some absurd expressions occur here and there, on which dolts and dunces have indulged in the most lugubrious merriment—and which one man of genius has whiled away an idle hour with cramming into a copy of no very amusing verses; and I am sorry to say, that there is much obscure, and more false criticism, obvious to the meanest capacities—and, with the exception of Mr Moore, none but the meanest capacities have been employed in ridiculing or vilifying the book. But sins such as these could easily have been pardoned, had there been the redeeming spirit of the pure and high love of truth. "That amber immortalisation" (the expression of a man of genius), is, alas! wantingand, therefore, there is much corrupt matter, and "instead of a sweet savour a stench."

Shepherd. I've some thochts, sir, o' writin a life o' Lord

1 Galt's earliest publication was a volume entitled the "Tragedies of Maddalen, Agamemnon, Lady Macbeth, Antonia, and Clytemnestra."

2 Thomas Moore, who, on the occasion of Galt's work, published a poor squib entitled "Alarming Intelligence-Revolution in the Dictionary-one Galt at the head of it."

78

FAIR PLAY'S A JEWEL.

Byron mysel-for though I ne'er saw him atween the een, I've had mony kind letters frae him-and I think there's as loud a ca' on me to produce ma contribution to his beeography as there was on Mr Galt.

North. But you must wait, my dear James, till a year or two after the publication of Mr Moore's Life of Byron. Any interference with him at present would be unkind and unhandsome-and would look like an attempt to hustle and jostle him out of the market.

Shepherd. What for no me as weel's Galt?

North. There ought to be as fine a sense of honour, James, between author and author, publisher and publisher—

Shepherd. As among thieves.

North. Or other gentlemen, in the affairs and intercourse of life. Mr Galt should have scorned to prepare, and Mr Colburn to publish, a Life of Byron, till Moore's and Murray's had had its run. That's poz.

Shepherd. Poz aneuch.

North. But instead of having had its run, one half of it is yet unpublished-and the other half yet in quarto. Silver against gold-shillings against guineas-is hardly fair play. Shepherd. But canna Muir's gold beat Galt's silver, or rather brass, sir?

North. You misunderstand me, James-Moore costs as many guineas as Galt shillings.

Shepherd. Galt and Colburn should hae waited-as I shall do-if they wished the public to look on them-I will not say as honest-but as highly honourable men.

North. One-half of Mr Galt's volume may be said to be borrowed.

Shepherd. Say stown

North. From Mr Moore

Shepherd. Too-hoo; or whare else could he hae got the facks about his boyhood and youth-and mony o' them about his manhood?

North. Nowhere else as well observed the Monthly Review.

Shepherd. Fair play's a jewel, foul's paste. But the Public ee sune kens the difference; the jewel she fixes on her breast or forehead, the paste finds its way into the Jakes.

North. The volume is the first number of the NATIONAL

THE NATIONAL LIBRARY.

79

Library. But I trust that the spirit in which it has been hatched, and huddled to market, is not National on either side of the Tweed. Number second is-the BIBLE! the contents of the Bible, and not its history, as its senseless title would indicate. Now, James, what a bound from Byron to the Bible! Does the Rev. Mr Gleig think it decorous for a divine to put into the one hand of a young Christian lady a book containing a pretty picture and panegyric of Lord Byron's kept-mistress, and into the other the History of the Bible? He thinks so,—and that he may be able to do it, he plunders Stackhouse as prodigally as Mr Galt plunders Moore. Messrs Galt and Gleig are both Scotchmen, so are we,—and we must again enter our protest against the Nationality of a library conducted on such principles.

2

Shepherd. Heaven preserve us! hoo mony Leebraries3 are there gaun to be at this yepoch! The march o' Intellect will be stopped by stumblin outower so mony bales o' prented paper thrawn in its way as steppin-stanes to expedite its approach to perfectibility! The people will be literally pressed till death. Is that a pun?

North. I presume, since there is such a supply, that there is a demand. But as I cannot say that in the stillest night of a quick spring I ever heard the grass growing, so

Shepherd. What! never a bit thin, fine rustle, sound and nae sound, that tauld o' the gradual expansion of some sweet germ gainin in hicht about the thousand part o' a hair'sbreadth in ae dewy moment, and thus waxin in the coorse o' March, April, May, and June, intil gerse that in wadin thro't in the first week o' July, afore mawin, would reach up to the waistband o' your breeks?

North. The people appear to me to want bread rather than books.

Shepherd. Let them hae baith.

North. But bread first, James.

Shepherd. Surely-for wha can read to ony purpose on an empty stamack? For, suppose they were to swallow some pages o' paragraphs out o' a byuck, hoo the deevil in that

1 "The National Library," which did not extend beyond a few volumes, was conducted by the Rev. G. R. Gleig, and published by Colburn and Bentley. Galt's Life of Byron was No. I.; and this was followed by Gleig's History of the Bible. 2 The Countess Guiccioli. 3 Leebraries-libraries.

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COMPETITION AMONG BOOKSELLERS.

state could they dijeest it? They would bock the best byuck that ever was bun'.

North. But the Libraries I allude to are not for the poor, James, but the "well-off," the wealthy, or the rich.

Shepherd. That's a' richt aneuch. I'm for everything cheap. Yet, sir, observe hoo the human mind comes to despise everything cheap. There's port wine. A' at ance, some years sin' syne, port wine tummled doun ever sae mony shillins the bottle-and I drank some at the Harrow last nicht at half-a-croon, o' the famous veentage o' the year wan-and better black-strap never touched a wizen. I remember hoo a' the middle classes-includin, in a genteel toun like Embro', nine-tenths o' the poppilation—at the first dounfa' o' the article, clapped their hauns, and swore to substitute port in place o' porter, and Cape wine (a bad exchange) for sma' yill. Mony o' them did sae; and you saw citizens smellin at corks, and heard them talkin o' auld port, and crust, and the like, wha used to be content wi' their tippenny. But the passion for port was sune satiated-for the port itsel, however cheap, was vulgar; or even if no vulgar, it was common, and in the power o' the said multifawrious middle classes, baith in the New and the Auld Town. So the boddies took to the toddy again-wi' het water and broon sugarwhich, though cheap too, was the drink that had been lang natural to their condition. There-ye hae baith argument and illustration.

North. A sort of imaginative reasoning that is apt to lead a weak or incautious mind astray. I am, however, far from entirely dissenting from your opinion; and therefore, a truce to philosophising about the Spirit of the Age-and let me whisper into your ear, that the whole is a Speculation among the Booksellers. Now, the Spirit of the Age is one thing, and the Spirit of the Trade is another; and therefore, the question is, are the Trade (the term is collective) ruining themselvesor, if not so, destroying their profits-by competition ?

Shepherd. Just as wi' steamboats on the river Clydethere being now some saxty, I understaun', a' plyin 'tween Glasgow, Greenock, and the Isles.

North. Now, James, I hope all the Libraries will prosper. But I fear some will dwine and die. The best will endure, and enduring flourish; the worst will become bankrupt; and