nts something--it
wants--it wants--d--n me, it wants that!" throwing his hand over his
head, and snapping his fingers. In talking of his ignorance of music,
Scott said he had once been employed in a case where a purchaser of a
Fiddle had been imposed on as to its value. He found it necessary to
prepare himself by reading all about Fiddles in the encyclopaedias,
&c., and having got the names of Stradivari, Amati, &c., glibly on his
tongue, got swimmingly through his case. Not long after this, dining
at the Duke of Hamilton's, he found himself left alone after dinner
with the Duke, who had but two subjects he could talk of--hunting and
music. Having exhausted hunting, Scott thought he would bring forward
his lately acquired learning in Fiddles, upon which the Duke grew
quite animated, and immediately whispered some orders to the butler,
in consequence of which there soon entered the room about half-a-dozen
tall servants, all in red, each bearing a Fiddle case, and Scott found
his knowledge brought to no less a test than that of telling by the
tones of each Fiddle, as the Duke played it, by what artist it was
made. "By guessing and management," said he, "I got on pretty well,
till we were, to my great relief, summoned to coffee."[12]

[Footnote 12: Lockhart's "Life of Sir Walter Scott."]

I have frequently heard of the Duke's passion for Violins, and also
that he had a great number of them at Hamilton Palace. Among these
instruments there appears to have been a singularly perfect Tenor by
the brothers Amati. Signor Piatti has often spoken to me of having
seen this instrument several years since in the possession of the
family. The Hamilton collection of Fiddles was doubtless dispersed
long before the rare MSS., the Beckford Library, the inlaid cabinets,
and other treasures which served to make Hamilton Palace renowned
throughout the world of art and letters.

Returning to the subject of Sir Walter Scott's references to music, it
will be seen that his barristers possess among their gentlemanly
embellishments a knowledge of stringed instruments. Who can forget
that the young Templar, Master Lowestoffe ("Fortunes of Nigel," chap.
xvi. 138) "performed sundry tunes on the Fiddle and French Horn" in
Alsatia; and that Counsellor Pleydell, on the eventful night, in "Guy
Mannering" (chap. xlix. 255), being a "member of the gentlemen's
concert in Edinburgh," was performing some of Scarlatti's sonatas with
great brilliancy upon th