CHAPTER XIX. Case of a Poetical Tailor condemned to Death at Edinburgh-His Letters to Scott-Death of Camp-Scott in London-Mr Morritt's description of him as "a Lion" in Town Dinner at Mr Sotheby's Coleridge's Fire, Famine, and Slaughter-The Quarterly Review started- First Visit to Rokeby The Lady of the Lake begun-Excursion to the Trossachs and Loch Lomond-Letter on Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers— Death of Daniel Scott-Correspondence about Mr Canning's Duel with Lord CastlereaghMiss Baillie's Family Legend acted at Edinburgh — Theatrical Anecdotes-Kemble— Siddons-Terry-Letter on the Death of Miss Seward. 1809-1810. In the end of 1808, a young man, by name Andrew Stewart, who had figured for some years before VOL. III. M as a poetical contributor to the Scots Magazine, and inserted there, among other things, a set of stanzas in honour of The Last Minstrel,* was tried, and capitally convicted, on a charge of burglary. He addressed, some weeks after his sentence had been pronounced, the following letters: "Sir, "To Walter Scott, Esq., Castle Street. "Edinburgh Tolbooth, 20th January 1809. Although I am a stranger to you, yet I am not to your works, which I have read and admired, and which will continue to be read and admired as long as there remains a taste for true excellence. Previous to committing the crime for which I am now convicted, I composed several poems in the Scottish dialect, which I herewith send for your perusal, and humbly hope you will listen to my tale of misery. I have been a truly unfortunate follower of the Muses. I was born in Edinburgh, of poor, but honest parents. My father is by trade a bookbinder, * One verse of this production will suffice:— "Sweetest Minstrel that e'er sung Of valorous deeds by Scotia done, O'er hills and dales, and vales amang, We've heard again," &c. and my mother dying in 1798, he was left a widower, with five small children, who have all been brought up by his own industry. As soon as I was fit for a trade, he bound me apprentice to a tailor in Edinburgh, but owing to his using me badly, I went to law. The consequence was, I got up my indentures after being only two years in his service. To my father's trade I have to ascribe my first attachment to the Muses. I perused with delight the books that came in the way; and the effusions of the poets of my country I read with rapture. I now formed the resolution of not binding myself to a trade again, as by that means I might get my propensity for reading followed. I acted as clerk to different people, and my character was irreproachable. I determined to settle in life, and for that I married a young purpose woman I formed a strong attachment to. Being out of employment these last nine months, I suffered all the hardships of want, and saw 'Poverty, with empty hand And eager look, half-naked stand.'- Ferguson. Reduced to this miserable situation, with my wife almost starving, and having no friends to render me the smallest assistance, I resided in a furnished room till I was unable to pay the rent, and then I was literally turned out of doors, like poor Dermody, in poverty and rags. Having no kind hand stretched out to help me, I associated with company of very loose manners, till then strangers to me, and by them I was led to commit the crime I am condemned to suffer for. But my mind is so agitated, I can scarce narrate my tale of misery. My age is only twentythree, and to all appearance will be cut off in the prime. I was tried along with my brother, Robert Stewart, and John M'Intyre, for breaking into the workshop of Peter More, calico-glazer, Edinburgh, and received the dreadful sentence to be executed on the 22d of February next. We have no friends to apply to for Royal Mercy. If I had any kind friend to mention my case to my Lord Justice-Clerk, perhaps I might get my sentence mitigated. You will see my poems are of the humorous cast. Alas! it is now the contrary. I remain your unfortunate humble servant, ANDREW STEWART." "To the Same. "Tolbooth, Sunday. 66 Sir, I received your kind letter last night, enclosing one pound sterling, for which I have only to request you will accept the return of a grateful heart. My prayers, while on earth, will be always for your welfare. Your letter came like a ministering angel to me. The idea of my approaching end darts across when my brain; and, as our immortal bard, Shakspeare, says, 'harrows up my soul. Some time since, when chance threw in my way Sir William Forbes's Life of Beattie, the account of the closing scene of Principal Campbell, as therein mentioned, made a deep impression on my mind. 'At a time,' says he, Campbell was just expiring, and had told his wife and niece so, a cordial happened unexpectedly to give some relief. As soon as he was able to speak, he said he wondered to see their faces so melancholy and covered with tears at the apprehension of his departure. At that instant,' said he, I felt my mind in such a state in the thoughts of my immediate dissolution, that I can express my feelings other way than by saying I was in a rapture.' There is something awfully satisfactory in the above. in no "I have to mention, as a dying man, that it was not the greed of money that made me commit the crime, but the extreme pressure of poverty and 60 Save the guardians of night when they bawl; How dreary and wild appears all around; No pitying voice near my call. O life, what are all thy gay pleasures and cares, |