Thomas Gray

Roughly two weeks before Walter Scott was born, English poet Thomas Gray died.  The date was July 30, 1771, and Gray was 54 at the time.  Reading Gray was part of Scott’s education, as the following two passages from John Gibson Lockhart’s “Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott” show.

‘…I have found, however, two note-books, inscribed "Walter Scott, 1792" containing a variety of scraps and hints which may help us to fill up our notion of his private studies during that year. He appears to have used them indiscriminately. We have now an extract from the author he happened to be reading; now a memorandum of something that had struck him in conversation; a fragment of an essay; transcripts of favorite poems; remarks on curious cases in the old records of the Justiciary Court; in short, a most miscellaneous collection, in which there is whatever might have been looked for, with perhaps the single exception of original verse. One of the books opens with: "Vegtam's Kvitha, or The Descent of Odin, with the Latin of Thomas Bartholine, and the English poetical version of Mr. Gray; with some account of the death of Balder, both as narrated in the Edda, and as handed down to us by the Northern historians—Auctore Gualtero Scott." The Norse original and the two versions are then transcribed; and the historical account appended, extending to seven closely written quarto pages, was, I doubt not, read before one or other of his debating societies. Next comes a page, headed "Pecuniary Distress of Charles the First," and containing a transcript of a receipt for some plate lent to the King in 1643. He then copies Langhorne's Owen of Carron; the verses of Canute, on passing Ely; the lines to a cuckoo, given by Warton as the oldest specimen of English verse; a translation "by a gentleman in Devonshire," of the death-song of Regner Lodbrog; and the beautiful quatrain omitted in Gray's Elegy,—

"There scattered oft, the earliest of the year," etc.’

'…Next morning, before breakfast, he carried his MS. to Miss Cranstoun, who was not only delighted but astonished at it; for I have seen a letter of hers to a common friend in the country, in which she says—"Upon my word, Walter Scott is going to turn out a poet—something of a cross, I think, between Burns and Gray."...’

Samuel Rogers

Samuel Rogers, the English poet, was born on July 30, 1763.  Popular in his day, Rogers is largely forgotten now, but he influenced literature and other poets in his day.  Walter Scott commented on Rogers in the Edinburgh Annual Register, for 1808:

'The followers and imitators of Campbell would probably rejoice more in being termed of the school of Goldsmith or Johnson: yet when we read the Pleasures of Friendship, the Pleasures of Solitude, the Pleasures of Love, and so forth, — or even when we see such titles in an advertisement, — we are naturally led to think the subjects could only have been chosen from the popularity of the Pleasures of Hope, or of the Pleasures of Memory. The latter beautiful poem probably gave Mr. Campbell the original hint of his plan, though it expanded into a more copious and holder field of composition than had been attempted by Mr. ROGERS, and contains beauties of a kind so different, that the resemblance of title is almost the only circumstance which connects them. The Pleasures of Memory is a gem in which the exquisite polish makes up for the inferiority of the water. There is not a line in it which has not been earnestly and successfully refined to melody, nor is there a description left unfinished, or broken off harshly. The sentiments are easy and elegant, and of that natural and pleasing tendency which always insures a favourable reception, even when destitute of novelty. We have in Mr. Rogers' poetry none of Campbell's sublime bursts of moral eloquence, which exalt us above the ordinary feelings of our nature; but we are gently and placidly led into a current of sentiment most congenial to all the charities and domestic attachments of life. Yet those who have by heart the Deserted Village of Goldsmith, will hardly allow Mr. Rogers' title to originality. Something he has gained over his model by an intimate acquaintance with the fine arts, and the capacity of appreciating their most capital productions. The delicacy and accuracy of discrimination inseparable from such attainments, diffuses, through his poetry, a certain shade of classical and chastened taste, which may serve, perhaps, more than any of the circumstances we have mentioned, to discriminate his productions from those of his contemporaries.'

More of the Tour to Waterloo and Paris

'...In the evening we reached Newcastle, whence we proceeded next morning to York. The coach was quite full, and we had not of course much conversation. Scott was, I believe, chiefly engaged in reading " Scott's Visit to Paris" during the greater part of the way.

We attended service in the Cathedral on Sunday ; and on arriving at Hull in the afternoon, were informed, that in order to reach the ports of Holland it was necessary to continue our journey as far as Harwich...'
 
The tour began three days ago.  Walter Scott and his entourage attended services at York Cathedral on July 30, 1815.  The book Walter was reading along the way, "Scott's Visit to Paris" was written by travel-mate John Scott who authored the "Journal of a tour to Waterloo..." from which today's post derives.  The difficulty of writing an original travelogue on Paris was current even then, as (John) Scott notes:
 
"PARIS, which lately was the safest of all subjects for a writer to select, is now, or at least will be, by the time this work can make its appearance, one of the most dangerous. Where is the family that has not sent out its traveller, or travellers, to the capital of France? Minute oral accounts of its wonders have been rendered at every tea-table. Criticisms on its arts, and manners, have found their way, in soft whispers, across shop-counters, and sleep has been expelled from the insides of stage-coaches by anecdotes of its events and its inhabitants. How many letters have been despatched, from the very spot of observation, to " dear papas," and " dear mammas," and other dears, not likely to feel less interested in the communications of the writers ! Where is the news-paper, weekly or daily, that has net to boast of its special series of articles on Paris ? What review has not been crowded with criticisms, on the many pamphlets, and volumes, that have had this city for their theme ? A style of information, adapted to the particular taste of every class of inquirers, has surely, then, by this time, been furnished; and as to facts, perhaps it would be more serviceable to take from, than add to, the number that have already been recorded...