The following description of a reception at Mr. Murray’s is taken from the “Autobiography” of Mrs. Bray, the novelist.  She relates that in the autumn of 1819 she made a visit to Mr. Murray, with her first husband, Charles Stothard, son of the well-known artist, for the purpose of showing him the illustrations of his “Letters from Normandy and Brittany.”

“We did not know,” she says, “that Mr. Murray held daily from about three to five o’clock a literary levee at his house.  In this way he gathered round him many of the most eminent men of the time.  On calling, we sent up our cards, and finding he was engaged, proposed to retreat, when Mr. Murray himself appeared and insisted on our coming up.  I was introduced to him by my husband, and welcomed by him with all the cordiality of an old acquaintance.  He said Sir Walter Scott was there, and he thought that we should like to see him, and to be introduced to him.  ‘You will know him at once,’ added Mr. Murray, ’he is sitting on the sofa near the fire-place.’  We found Sir Walter talking to Mr. Gifford, then the Editor of the Quarterly Review.  The room was filled with men and women, and among them several of the principal authors and authoresses of the day; but my attention was so fixed on Sir Walter and Mr. Gifford that I took little notice of the rest.  Many of those present were engaged in looking at and making remarks upon a drawing, which represented a Venetian Countess (Guiccioli), the favourite, but not very respectable friend of Lord Byron.  Mr. Murray made his way through the throng in order to lead us up to Sir Walter.  We were introduced.  Mr. Murray, anxious to remove the awkwardness of a first introduction, wished to say something which would engage a conversation between ourselves and Sir Walter Scott, and asked Charles if he happened to have about him his drawing of the Bayeux tapestry to show to Sir Walter.  Charles smiled and said ‘No’; but the saying answered the desired end; something had been said that led to conversation, and Sir Walter, Gifford, Mr. Murray, and Charles chatted on, and I listened.

“Gifford looked very aged, his face much wrinkled, and he seemed to be in declining health; his dress was careless, and his cravat and waistcoat covered with snuff.  There was an antique, philosophic cast about his head and countenance, better adapted to exact a feeling of curiosity in a stranger than the head of Sir Walter Scott; the latter seemed more a man of this world’s mould.  Such, too, was his character; for, with all his fine genius, Sir Walter would never have been so successful an author, had he not possessed so large a share of common sense, united to a business-like method of conducting his affairs, even those which perhaps I might venture to call the affairs of imagination.  We took our leave; and before we got further than the first landing, we met Mr. Murray conducting Sir Walter downstairs; they were going to have a private chat before the departure of the latter.” [Footnote:  “Mrs. Bray’s Autobiography,” pp. 145-7.]