Western Worthies | Page 8

a county embracing a third of the population of Scotland was able to accomplish.
Born in Glasgow in 1805, Sheriff Bell is descended from an honourable and honoured family. His father followed the practice of the law, and educated Henry to the same career. It did not seem, however, as if the son cared to have his father's mantle falling upon him. After receiving the rudiments of his education at the High School of Glasgow, he proceeded to Edinburgh, where he commenced to go through a regular University curriculum. So far as the Scottish metropolis was concerned, the first quarter of the present century was the Augustan age of literature. Sir Walter Scott was in his meridian. De Quincey, under the influence of the "Circean spells" of opium, was making Blackwood a power in the land. Sir William Hamilton, the greatest British supporter of �� priori philosophy in this century, had just been appointed to the Chair of Civil History. Through the columns of the Edinburgh Review, Francis Jeffrey was "propounding heresies of all sorts against the ruling fancies of the day, whether political, poetical, or social." John Wilson, "Christopher North," that "monster of erudition," was acting as the animating soul of his celebrated magazine. Amid such a galaxy of brilliant constellations, Henry Bell graduated for a literary career, and he was not esteemed the least of the parhelions that shone around the fixed stars in that spacious intellectual firmament. By contact and association with such men, he enjoyed exceptional facilities for qualifying himself as an author; and having the "root of the matter" in him, he published, in rapid succession, poems, sketches, and reviews that were more than sufficient to justify the compliment which the Ettrick Shepherd years afterwards pronounced upon them, when he said, "Man, Henry, it was a great pity ye didna stick to literature; 'od, Sir, ye micht hae done something at literature."
Finding, perhaps, that his tastes were literary rather than legal--that he had a greater aptitude for belles lettres than jurisprudence--young Bell, on the 15th November, 1828, undertook the Editorship of the Edinburgh Literary Journal. He was then twenty-three years of age. The Journal professed to be a "weekly register of criticism and belles lettres." It contained fourteen pages of royal octavo, and its price was sixpence. The motto of the Literary Journal--it was often the custom in those days to select a motto for periodical publications--was the following taken from Bruyere:--
"Talent, go?t, esprit, bons sens, choses differentes, Non incompatibles;"
and this was supplemented by the well-known verse of Burns--
"Here's freedom to him that would read, Here's freedom to him that would write! There's nane ever feared that the truth should be heard, But they whom the truth would indite."
On looking over the index to the first volume of the Literary Journal, we find that it contained original contributions in miscellaneous literature from Thomas Aird, the author of the Odd Volume; R. Carruthers (editor of the Inverness Courier), R. Chambers, Derwent Conway, Dr. Gillespie, Mrs. S. C. Hall, James Hogg, John Malcolm, Dr. Memes, Rev. Dr. Morehead, Alexander Negris, Alexander Sutherland, William Tennant, and William Weir. Of those who contributed original poetry, our readers will be familiar with the names of the authoress of "Aloyse," Thomas Atkinson, Alexander Balfour, Sheriff Bell himself (who, by the way, is the most voluminous writer of all, his poems, in the list before us, including "The Bachelor's Complaint," "Song to Leila," "Lines about Love, and such like nonsense," "Edinburgh Revisited," and "To a Favourite Actress"), Thomas Bryson, Gertrude, Captain Charles Gray, Mrs. E. Hamilton, Mrs. Hemans, W. M. Hetherington, Alexander Maclagan, John Malcolm, Percy Bysshe Shelley, Charles Doyne Sillery, Thomas Stoddart, William Tennant, James Thomson, Alaric A. Watts, and Mrs. Grant of Laggan. A rare combination of talent! An original contribution from almost any one on this long list would be esteemed a priceless treasure by the publishers of the present day. What would Mr. Strahan or Mr. Macmillan not give to have the command of such a host?
A disposition to linger over the history and varied fortunes of this now defunct censor, is naturally evolved from the contemplation of the talent which it was able to command. A well-known author has said that "whatever withdraws us from the power of the Senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominant over the present, advances us in the dignity of human beings." So must the quondam editor of the Literary Journal think when he recalls the reminiscences of those bygone days--days that were spent in edifying and agreeable association with men and women whose names are inscribed on the roll of Scotland's illustrious sons and daughters. He may also take a justifiable pride in the fact that, by virtue of his position as editor, he was at once the