The Ballantyne Plaque in Canongate Kirkyard

The Ballantyne Plaque in Canongate Kirkyard — and a 1954 Discovery

In Canongate Kirkyard, set against the grave of John and James Ballantyne, is a bronze plaque erected by the Edinburgh Sir Walter Scott Club. Its inscription records a moment in June 1821 when Sir Walter Scott stood beside the open grave of his friend and publisher John Ballantyne and said:

“I feel as if there would be less sunshine for me from this day forth.”

The plaque goes on to note that James Ballantyne, Scott’s printer and John’s brother, also lies buried there. It concludes simply:

Erected by the Edinburgh Sir Walter Scott Club

For many years, the date of that erection was unknown.

A Historical Gap

The Club’s early minute books and annual reports did not immediately reveal when the plaque had been installed. The question became more intriguing when consulting William Pitcairn Anderson’s Silences that Speak (1931), a substantial survey of burials in Edinburgh’s historic graveyards.

Anderson discusses John Ballantyne (pp. 546–7) but makes no mention of any Scott Club tablet at the grave — though he does refer elsewhere in the kirkyard to recently erected plaques, including that of “Clarinda”. If the Ballantyne plaque had existed in 1931, it is highly likely Anderson would have noted it.

However, the Scottish Genealogical Society’s volume of Canongate monumental inscriptions — based on a survey undertaken in 1958 — does record the plaque.

The conclusion was clear: the tablet must have been erected between 1931 and 1958. But when?

The Breakthrough: 25th November 1954

The answer lay in the Club’s own records.

In the 48th Annual Report (covering the year ending 31 December 1954), together with corresponding ledger entries, confirmation appears: the plaque was erected on 25th November 1954.

That date is significant.

25 November 1954 marked the centenary of the death of John Gibson Lockhart (1794–1854), Scott’s son-in-law and biographer. On that same day, the Club was represented at the unveiling of a plaque at 25 Northumberland Street in connection with Lockhart’s centenary.

The Ballantyne tablet belongs to this wider commemorative moment.

Why 1954 Matters

The plaque is therefore not:

• an Edwardian memorial
• a 1921 centenary marker for John Ballantyne
• nor part of the 1932 centenary of Scott’s death

Instead, it is a mid-twentieth-century act of remembrance.

By the 1950s, Scott’s reputation had subtly shifted. Earlier generations had emphasised the monumental Scott — national bard, creator of Abbotsford, architect of Romantic Scotland. Mid-century scholarship increasingly recognised the complexity of his financial arrangements, his entanglement with the Ballantyne firms, and the personal cost of those relationships.

The plaque reflects this change in tone.

Rather than quoting Scott’s poetry, it preserves a private utterance of grief. It commemorates not triumph but friendship. It remembers not literary fame but emotional loss.

“I feel as if there would be less sunshine…”

That is the Scott of the Journal — vulnerable, human, loyal.

The Ballantynes and Scott

John Ballantyne (1774–1821) was more than a publisher. He was Scott’s confidant and commercial intermediary. His death in June 1821 deeply affected Scott. Within five years, the printing and publishing structure that bound Scott to the Ballantynes and to Constable would collapse, leaving Scott personally liable for enormous debts.

James Ballantyne (1772–1833), printer of the Waverley Novels, endured the financial catastrophe alongside Scott. Modern scholarship recognises the shared risk and complexity of the enterprise. By commemorating both brothers at their grave, the Club acknowledged the collaborative reality behind Scott’s literary achievement.

A Post-War Memorial

The mid-1950s were a period of renewed heritage consciousness. After wartime austerity and material restrictions, civic and cultural bodies once again undertook commemorative projects. Bronze casting, limited during the war, was again viable.

The Ballantyne plaque fits this moment perfectly: restrained in design, sober in tone, and focused on memory rather than grandeur.

That it was installed during the Lockhart centenary is also telling. Lockhart shaped how the nineteenth century remembered Scott. In 1954, the Club chose to remember Scott in turn — not through monumentality, but through a moment of grief in a kirkyard.

From Patina to Bronze

Today the plaque carries the green and darkened patina of seventy years’ exposure — the natural ageing of cast bronze in Edinburgh’s climate. When new in November 1954, however, it would have appeared bright and warmly golden, the lettering crisp and sharply defined against a darker background.

Its present weathering adds dignity. But its original shine would have caught the light — perhaps echoing the very “sunshine” Scott felt had diminished in 1821.

A Small Plaque, A Larger Story

This modest tablet reveals much about how Scott has been remembered.

It reminds us that his career was not solitary. It was collaborative, risky and deeply human. The presses of James Ballantyne and the business energy of John Ballantyne were integral to the making of the Waverley Novels.

And it shows that in 1954, the Edinburgh Sir Walter Scott Club chose to honour that human story.

In a city filled with statues of Scott, this small bronze plaque may be one of the most intimate memorials of all.