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The defence of New France against the British collapsed on the investiture of Montreal by Sir Jeffrey Amherst in 1760. The French army surrendered, and part of it was shipped back to the motherland. Lecour remained, and shouldering a pedlar's pack, plodded about the country selling red handkerchiefs, sashes, and jack-knives to the peasantry.
So triumphant was the first Whig or Radical majority under the new system, that Jeffrey, the Whig pontiff, perceived that the real struggle was to be "between property and no property," between Capital and Socialism. This circumstance had always been perfectly clear to Scott and the Tories. The watchword of the eighteenth century in literature, religion, and politics had been "no enthusiasm."
As they came in at the billiard-room door, Mr Palliser was there to meet them. "You must be very cold," he said to Glencora, who entered first. "No, indeed," said Glencora; but her teeth were chattering, and her whole appearance gave the lie to her words. "Jeffrey," said Mr Palliser, turning to his cousin, "I am angry with you.
Enough of the generation that was retiring survived to cast an antiquarian air over the city, and the generation that was advancing was still a Scotch production. Its character may be estimated by the names I have mentioned, and by the fact, that the genius of Scott and of Jeffrey had made it the seat at once of the most popular poetry and the most brilliant criticism that then existed.
But the immense size of the cones of the Sugar Pine from fifteen to twenty inches in length and those of the Jeffrey variety of the Yellow Pine compel him to adopt a quite different method.
Half an hour later as they were sitting together in the library Roxanne reissued from the kitchen, bearing before her a pan of biscuits. Jeffrey and Harry rose. "They're beautiful, dear," said the husband, intensely. "Exquisite," murmured Harry. Roxanne beamed. "Taste one.
Those were the days of the giants, Scott, Wilson, Hogg, Jeffrey, Brougham, Sidney Smith, the Horners, Lord Murray, Allison, and all the formidable intellectual phalanx that held mental dominion over the English-speaking world, under the blue and yellow standard of the Edinburgh Review.
In England contributors are better off; and no editor of a signed periodical would feel either bound or permitted to take such trouble about mere wording of sentences as Gifford and Jeffrey were in the habit of taking. There is, however, another side to this, from an editor's point of view.
When Lord Jeffrey was told of it an hour later, he exclaimed, 'Thank God for Scotland! there is not another country on earth where such a deed could be done! And the Friar reminded me proudly of Macaulay's saying that the Scots had made sacrifices for the sake of religious opinion for which there was no parallel in the annals of England.
But he implied, in painfully halting English, that he could not give lessons at all. Nor could any of his countrymen in Addington. Jeffrey stood upon no ceremony with him. "Why the devil," said he, "do you talk to me as if you'd begun English yesterday? You forget I've heard you translating bunkum up on the circus-ground." Andrea's eyes shone the more enchantingly. He was shameless, though.
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