Chapter VIII: Commercial Troubles and Successes—“the Weekly Journal”

Sir Walter Scott in his eagerness to purchase land for his Abbotsford estate, and to fill the mansion with antiquarian and historical curios, brought together with persevering industry and at great cost, was continually in need of money to carry out his plans. Abbotsford eventually became a show-place, and at the same time a kind of hotel, where the greatest men of Europe were proud to be received and to partake of his hospitality. In 1820 Scott received the baronetcy for which he longed, as an aristocratic badge for the new Border family he had the desire to found; and soon after he figured as director of the pageantry in welcoming George IV. to Scotland. The sums which he spent in these ways were great; nor could he have reconciled himself to such outlays, except from the conviction that his genius was a mine upon which he could draw whenever he pleased. For much of this expenditure he resorted to Constable, who, acting as a sort of literary broker, took the author’s genius and popularity in pledge for advances to him. It would have been better for all concerned had Constable, as well as the Ballantynes, been less accommodating on these occasions, for it was, no doubt, the command of ready money that induced Scott to launch out into extravagant schemes. His purchases of land were the talk of the whole district around Melrose and Selkirk, and it was a common saying among the rustics, “that they would wish for no ampler fortune than just the length and breadth of themselves in land within half a mile of the Shirra’s house.” Some in the neighbourhood shook their heads doubtfully over it all, and one adjacent proprietor, whose property Scott envied, told him that “he wouldna be surprised if he lived to see the craws bigging in the braw lum-heads.” But author, printer, and publisher seemed alike intoxicated with the success of the Waverley Novels, and the nature of their dealings was perhaps without parallel in literary commerce. Not to speak of the extravagant remuneration for books already before the public, and of advances for books in progress, it afterwards appeared that large sums were drawn for works which, if contemplated, were at least not begun. To add to all these difficulties, Scott was led by a feeling of gratitude to grant Constable counter-acceptances, in order to relieve him from those embarrassments of which he himself was the chief cause. The complications of all these transactions, precipitated by a commercial panic, brought on at last a complete crash. At the end of January 1826, the firm of Archibald Constable & Co. was declared bankrupt; shortly after, the failure of James Ballantyne & Co. was announced; and with these houses that of Hurst, Robinson & Co., of London, was hopelessly involved. The market was stocked with the dishonoured bills of the firms, and confidence in the great publishing houses was ended. Scott himself was involved in something like £130,000, between publishers and printers.

In all this Scott, not James Ballantyne, played the leading part. In a letter of October 15, 1815, referring to the failure of his brother’s bookselling business, and equally applicable to this new imbroglio, the printer writes to Scott: “I am singularly and hopelessly ignorant in these matters; but I fancy the truth is that, owing to the bad success of the bookselling speculation, and the injudicious drafts so long made on the business that throve, I am, _de jure et de facto_, wholly dependent on you.” It would appear that James Ballantyne was right in this—that the trouble arose not through any incompetence on the printer’s part, but mainly through the setting up of the firm of John Ballantyne & Co., and the speculations of the publishing firms.

“Scott was always incurring expenses, often heavy expenses, for other people. Thus, when Mr. Terry, the actor, became lessee and manager of the Adelphi Theatre, London, Scott became his surety for £1250, while James Ballantyne became his surety for £500 more, and both these sums had to be paid by Scott after Terry’s failure in 1828. Such obligations as these, however, would have been nothing when compared with Sir Walter’s means, had all his bills on Constable been duly honoured, and had not the printing firm of Ballantyne & Co. been so deeply involved with Constable’s house, that it necessarily became insolvent when he stopped.”[33]

Scott’s share of the large sum involved by the failure was ultimately paid in full by himself and his representatives, while the other firms paid their creditors about ten per cent. of the amount due. It must be kept in mind, however, so far as Constable’s house was concerned, that their property appears to have been foolishly sacrificed by forced sales of copyrights and stock.

The printing-office at Paul’s Work in those days was as complete in all its arrangements as any one of the inimitable volumes which issued from it; and no printed book was put into the binder’s hands till the sheets were thoroughly dry and the ink was fully “ripened.” The business was vigorous, and, as we have seen, in 1822 no fewer than 145,000 volumes issued from the Ballantyne Press, all from the pen of Scott—an extraordinary number of volumes in those days of hand-presses; and this leaves out of reckoning work done for other authors and publishers.

The manager of the working departments—Mr. Hughes being now more in connection with the counting-room—was Daniel M’Corkindale. He never spoke above a whisper, nor stirred out of his quiet manner, and yet, under his control, every man and boy performed his task with despatch and the regularity of clockwork. M’Corkindale was part and parcel of that office—visit it at what hour of the day or night you pleased, there you found him; and even on a Sunday he would take the key and flit noiselessly among the untenanted case-frames and silent presses. James Hogg called him the honest and indefatigable M’Corkindale. After thirty years of faithful service, he died in March 1833, two months after his master.

Mr. James Bertram, editor of the _North Briton_, published in 1893 “Memories of Books and Authors,” which contained the following notice of the Ballantyne Press in 1837-38: “I had often occasion to visit Paul’s Work, where my friend, Mr. R. H. Patterson, afterwards editor of the _Edinburgh Advertiser_, was one of the ‘readers.’ Ballantyne’s was an office in which many ‘characters’ were to be found, including ‘the Major,’ Mr. Cartwright, an accomplished printer’s-reader; Mr. Christie, one of the foremen; and William Tofts, one of the machinists. These men had all known Sir Walter, Mr. Lockhart, Mr. Constable, Mr. Blackwood, Professor Wilson, and others of the bright spirits of _Maga_. One of the old ‘pigs’[34] of the house delighted to tell us stories about Sir Walter, ‘stories that Mr. Lockhart kent naething ava aboot.’ He maintained that he knew who wrote the novels ‘almost as soon as the master’ (Mr. James Ballantyne). When asked how that came about, he would tell his best tale with a sufficient amount of importance; and although it was credited in the office, I cannot guarantee its accuracy. ‘I had just begun (he would say) to a new sheet of “Guy Mannering” one night a while after twelve—we were working late in the press-room at that time—and all the compositors had left, when in comes Mr. Ballantyne himself, with a letter in his hand and a lot of types. “I am going to make a small alteration, Sandy,” he said, “just unlock the forme, will you? I’ll not keep you many minutes.” Well, I did as I was bidden, and Mr. B., looking at the letter, altered three lines on one page and one line on another. “That will do now, I think, Sandy,” were his words; “but first pull a sheet till I see.” The master then looked carefully over the two pages and said, “Bring me the printed sheets—they’ll have to be destroyed,” and off he went, never thinking that he had left the letter lying on my bank. I had barely time to get a glimpse at it, when back came Mr. Ballantyne, but I kent the hand weel, and the signature, and it was “Walter Scott.” I had a great lang ballant (ballad) in Sir Walter’s ain hand o’ write at hame, so that I was nae stranger to it. I would hae likit to see what the difference was that was made in the sheets, but he made me carry them up to his room. So you see, gentlemen, I kent the grand secret, when it _was_ a secret.’”

On William Tofts’ death in 1859 the following notice appeared in the _North Briton_: “Mr. Tofts was, in some respects, a remarkable man. He had been associated with the mechanical department of the printing trade for nearly half a century, and during that period had witnessed many eventful changes. When he first went, as a boy, to learn the pressman’s trade, the neat hand-presses now in use were not known, and printing by steam was not even dreamt of. The presses then in use were of cumbrous construction, and in place of rollers, the ink was distributed over the surface of the types by means of pads, with which the formes were dabbed over. The work of improvement had begun, however, and printing by means of hand-presses was shortly afterwards brought to the state of perfection in which we now find it.

Used by Ballantyne in Printing the Waverley Novels]

“Mr. Tofts was engaged in the office of the Messrs. Ballantyne in the palmy days of the Waverley Novels, and printed off several of the impressions of that immortal series of fictions. He well remembered Sir Walter Scott, who made frequent visits to the office where Mr. Tofts, then a very young man, was engaged; and he had also vivid recollections of Jeffrey, Lockhart, Sydney Smith, and the other great guns of the _Edinburgh Review_. He was the first man who superintended a steam printing-machine in Scotland—it was, if we remember rightly, on the first introduction of one of these valuable aids to book-making in Messrs. Ballantyne’s establishment. He also had the distinction of inaugurating a steam machine for printing _Chambers’s Edinburgh Journal_.”

In appearance James Ballantyne was a gentleman of the old school. It was a treat to see him do the honours of his own house in St. John Street, whether in the drawing-room before dinner, showing the proof-sheets of Scott’s poems or novels, bound up with the marginal correspondence between the critic-printer and the author, or after dinner, pressing his guests to a particular glass of Burgundy, “a present from his friend Sir Walter.” The prop of his existence was his connection with Scott; the happiest moments of his life were those that he spent—while the Waverley Novels were appearing in rapid and dazzling succession—amid a small circle of friends, when the eagerly-expected volumes were produced, a week or a fortnight before they were issued to the general public. James Ballantyne read them aloud with his best emphasis and expression, and for this duty he was admirably qualified, being a good elocutionist, and possessed of a melodious voice. There was to the listeners a certain gratification in forestalling the rest of the world—in being able to tell their friends mysteriously that there was a great treat awaiting them. There was much pleasure also in discussing the merits of the work, with timid allusions to the veiled author, whose name was never mentioned. And amid the circle sat James, the founder of the feast, happy in the happiness he was creating.

Lockhart gives a vivid description of one of these evenings: “To be present at one of these scenes,” he writes, “was truly a rich treat.... When the cloth was drawn, the burly preses rose, and spouted with a sonorous voice the formula of Macbeth:—

“‘Fill full!
I drink to the general joy of the whole table!’

This was followed by ‘The King—God bless him!’ and second came ‘Gentlemen, there is another toast which never has been nor shall be omitted in this house of mine—I give you the health of Mr. Walter Scott, with three times three!’... Then James rose once more, every vein on his brow distended, his eyes solemnly fixed upon vacancy, to propose, not as before in his stentorian key, but with bated breath, in the sort of whisper by which a stage conspirator thrills the gallery—‘Gentlemen, a bumper to the immortal Author of “Waverley”!’ The uproar of cheering, in which Scott made a fashion of joining, was succeeded by deep silence; and then Ballantyne proceeded to lament the obscurity in which his illustrious but too modest correspondent still chose to conceal himself from the plaudits of the world—to thank the company for the manner in which the _nominis umbra_ had been received—and to assure them that the Author of ‘Waverley’ would, when informed of the circumstance, feel highly delighted, ‘the proudest hour of his life,’ &c. The name of the forthcoming novel would then be given, and success to it pledged in another bumper.”[35]

For a number of years James Ballantyne conducted and printed the _Edinburgh Weekly Journal_, with a degree of spirit and good taste which the public did not fail to appreciate. This paper began originally in 1744, and was edited, about 1767, by William Smellie, well known in the printing profession and first editor of the “Encyclopædia Britannica.” In 1806 the paper was exposed for sale, when Mr. Blackwood and another offered £1830 for it, but it became the property of James Ballantyne and Walter Scott for £1850, and under their joint ownership was one of the most influential papers of the time.[36]

“Christopher North,” in an early number of _Blackwood’s Magazine_, characterised the _Journal_ as “one of the best principled and best written newspapers in Scotland.” During James Ballantyne’s editorship it was noted also for its theatrical criticisms, the work of the editor, who had previously contributed similar articles to the _Edinburgh Evening Courant_. His brother John looked after the musical notices, being considered one of the best critics of the day in this special direction. Scott furnished many articles for its columns, such as “The Visionary,” in December 1819 and January 1820, three essays on popular doctrines or delusions of the time, afterwards collected into a pamphlet which had a large sale; and also the Malachi Malagrowther Letters, already referred to, which also appeared in pamphlet form.

James Ballantyne continued to be editor of the _Weekly Journal_ till his death in 1833. His successor was Thomas Aird, the author of many poems and prose articles which first appeared in _Blackwood’s Magazine_, and the valued friend of Thomas Carlyle; but he held the post only for a short time, being chosen editor of the _Dumfries Herald_, then newly started. The _Journal_ continued to be printed at Paul’s Work till 1844, when it was again sold. It ceased to exist in 1848, its last editor being Theodore Williams.

The following letter from Scott to Ballantyne refers to a strike among the men, regarding some extra work in connection with the _Journal_, which they had refused to do unless at a higher rate than usual:—

“DEAR JAMES,—I heard of your mutiny. We will help you all we
can, and I advise you to stand firm, and punish ringleaders.
The men are fools. The work would be easily printed in London.
I return two Bellendon books—‘History of James VI.,’ and
‘Melville’s Memoirs,’ borrowed from you by yours truly,

W. SCOTT.

“EDINBURGH, _Saturday_.”

Connected with Ballantyne’s editing of the _Weekly Journal_ there is the following curious story. The speech of George IV. at the banquet in the Parliament House, Edinburgh, 1822, was reported in the _Weekly Journal_; but it happens that, though that version of his Majesty’s speech appears in all the works published at the time (not newspapers), it is not his Majesty’s speech at all, but James Ballantyne’s, so far, at least, as the concluding part is concerned. A reporter belonging to the _Courant_ happened to be sitting beside Ballantyne on the occasion, and was invited by him, when the feast was over, to accompany him to St. John Street that he might look over his notes. The reporter went with him, and wrote out the royal speech in his presence. On reading the concluding sentences of the speech, Ballantyne exclaimed: “Ay, ay! his Majesty did say so; but it is not good—we will improve it!” With that he took his pen, cancelled what was written, and substituted the sentences which have always passed current as his Majesty’s. This is a tolerable specimen of Ballantyne’s ready tact in this way.[37]

On two occasions, however, the _Journal_ threw a shadow between the two friends, which must have been painful to Scott, whose warm regard for his confidential critic and trusted friend was no secret. The paper adopted the popular side during the trial of Queen Caroline, and afterwards espoused the cause of the Reform Bill. On neither of these points could Scott’s high Toryism permit him to be silent. He urged the right of control belonging to a proprietor, whilst Ballantyne replied by insisting on the right of free action by an editor. The first dispute was got over, but that on the Reform Bill had a painful end. “The two old and faithful friends parted in a tiff, and never again met.” So completely had the long friendship been broken that, when Sir Walter began his “Castle Dangerous,” about June 1831, he told Cadell the publisher about his new work, but said nothing to his old ally, and even thought of giving the book to another printer. This severity, however, was too much for his genial nature.

James Ballantyne, equally with his partner in the collapse of 1826, as told in this chapter, was a ruined man; everything he possessed—including his house, No. 3 Heriot Row, to which he had removed from St. John Street—being surrendered to his creditors. Fortunately for all concerned a trust-deed was drawn up, and he was chosen to manage Paul’s Work for the creditors at a salary of £400 a year. He was assisted by his younger brother, Alexander, and by John Hughes—son of the Mr. Hughes who came with him from Kelso; and these two afterwards became, with James’s son, John Alexander Ballantyne, the active partners in the business. To add to his misfortunes his wife died in 1829, leaving a large family. In 1816, when forty-five years of age, he had married Miss Hogarth, of Berwickshire, sister of George Hogarth, author of “A History of Music.” Their household was a happy one; Mrs. Ballantyne was an amiable woman of simple habits, and the children were pleasant and well-mannered. Her death affected him so much that for some time he was unfit for business, and his health was impaired. He was never the same buoyant, happy man again. Scott writes regarding this event: “I received the melancholy news that James Ballantyne has lost his wife. With his domestic habits the blow is irretrievable. What can he do, poor fellow, at the head of such a family of children! I should not be surprised if he were to give way to despair.” He was not able to appear at the funeral, and this circumstance evoked much sympathy.

In the same year we find him residing in Albany Street. Some time after he removed to Hill Street, and here he died on January 17, 1833. Shortly before this event, he had expressed a hope that he might yet be restored to sufficient health, to enable him to place on record all he felt and knew regarding the great and good Sir Walter, who had so recently gone before him. Accordingly, one of the last acts of his busy life, when lying on his deathbed, was to write and send to Lockhart the Memorandum of which the latter made such full use in his “Life of Scott,” and in return for which he thought it not inconsistent with the courtesy of a gentleman to traduce the character of the writer.