And here we bid Dumas, and French trifles, and Ohio scenery, and the bursting season of new-come summer, our monthly adieu!
[AN OLD GENTLEMAN'S LETTER.]
"THE BRIDE OF LANDECK."
Indeed, my dear sir, I can not write any thing worth reading. You are very kind—very flattering, when you would persuade me that, at the end of a long life, I can amuse the public, through the pages of your New Monthly Magazine, preoccupied as the great literary stage is with writers of reputation. If I attempt a tale, there are Bulwer, and James, and Dickens, and Hawthorne. If I write a History, there is Macaulay; if an essay, there is Legion. However, I will do my best, and tell you the story of "The Bride of Landeck," that you may make the experiment. Only remember it is none of my seeking. I am like, in one respect, the great statesman of whom my friend, Judge R——, in the character of a cockney, wrote:
"He never sought for no prefarment,
Instead of that,
He turned a rat,
To prove that he died varmint."
The great difficulty with an inexperienced person is where to begin—whether, with Horace, in the middle—with Count Antoine Hamilton, at the beginning—or, with the late Lord Stowell, at the end? The latter gentleman, by the way, was one of the most extraordinary men I ever met with—full of something more than talent—of genius of the highest order, and, to my mind, far superior in intellect to his more celebrated brother, the Earl of Eldon. His judgments are more elaborately beautiful and eloquent than any that I know, and when interested in a subject, his language was rich, flowing, and easy, beyond that of any man I ever heard speak. Yet I remember his telling me once, that he would rather deliver a judgment, which occupied three whole days—such as that in the Iron Coffin case—than speak five sentences to return thanks for his health being drank after dinner. I will go on with my tale in a moment; but one point in Sir William Scott's (Lord Stowell's) character is interesting. With all his vast erudition and powers of intellect, he was in some respects as simple as a child, and had an uncontrollable passion for curious sights. I remember quite well, when I was in London, more than thirty years ago, walking down the Strand, and seeing the carriage of Lord Stowell, then Sir William Scott, dashing rapidly up toward Charing Cross. I bowed to him, and, on perceiving me, he stretched out his hand, and pulled what is called the check-string, vehemently, as an indication for his coachman to stop. The man pulled up, and he beckoned to me eagerly, as if he had something of the utmost importance to communicate. I went up at once to the window, when to my surprise and disappointment, I must acknowledge, he inquired, "Have you seen the Bonassus?"—"No!"—"See him—see him! He is right in your way by Exeter Change. A very curious fellow, a very curious fellow indeed!"
Some years afterward, it so happened, his papers were placed in my hands for examination. In the top of each of the multitudinous tin cases which contained them, was written an injunction in his own hand, to take no copies of any of the documents within. I do not, however, think it any violation of his injunction, to show how far back this passion for any thing that is curious or extraordinary could be traced. Among other papers was the memorandum-book of his expenses, when studying at Oxford, and two of the items were curious. One was, "Paid one shilling to see Mr. —— conjure" (I forget the man's name). Then followed the observation, "Very marvelous indeed!" Some way down on the succeeding page was written, "Paid one guinea to Mr. —— for teaching me to conjure."
He conjured, indeed, to some purpose; for he left a very large fortune; and that brings to my mind an anecdote regarding his brother John, which may have been told over and over again, for aught I know; but I myself had it from a near relation of both brothers. While John Scott, Lord Eldon, was Chancellor, his brother, Lord Stowell, proposed to purchase an estate with some one or two hundred thousand pounds which he had saved. Some delay occurred in perfecting the title, and Lord Stowell, uneasy at having so large a sum in the house, was hurrying to deposit it with a banker of good reputation, when he was met in the street by his brother, who asked him to come into his chambers and breakfast with him. The great civilian declined, telling his errand, and alleging the importance of disencumbering his person of the large amount he carried about him. The Chancellor persisted, and almost dragged his brother into his chambers by main force. He then argued with the other most vehemently upon the imprudence of trusting his whole fortune to any private banking-house, urging him to lodge the sum in the Bank of England. Lord Stowell was obstinate, and the dispute lasted till ten o'clock, when some papers were brought in for the Chancellor's signature. He took a pen and wrote his name, and then, for the first time, informed his brother that the house with whom he had been about to trust his money was bankrupt. He had that moment signed the fiat.
I must not quit the subject of the memorandum-book, however, without mentioning that it contained many a proof of kindness of heart and generosity of character, which showed that Lord Stowell possessed other, and perhaps higher qualities than those which recommended him to high station, or led him to wealth.