_July_ 11, [_Abbotsford_].--Worked at proofs in the morning; composed
nothing. Got off by one, and to this place between six and seven.
Weather delicious.

_July 12_.--Unpacking and arranging; the urchins are stealing the
cherries in the outer garden. But I can spare a thousand larch-trees to
put it in order with a good fence for next year. It is not right to
leave fruit exposed; for if Adam in the days of innocence fell by an
apple, how much may the little _gossoon_ Jamie Moffatt be tempted by
apples of gold in an age of iron! Anne and I walked to Huntly Burn--a
delicious excursion. That place is really become beautiful; the Miss
Fergusons have displayed a great deal of taste.

_July_ 13.--Two agreeable persons--Rev. Mr. Gilly[8], one of the
prebendaries of Durham, with his wife, a pretty little woman--dined with
us, and met Mr. Scrope. I heard the whole history of the discovery of
St. Cuthbert's[9] body at Durham Cathedral. The Catholics will deny the
identity, of course; but I think it is _constaté_ by the dress and other
circumstances. Made a pleasant day of it, and with a good conscience,
for I had done my task this morning.

_July_ 14.--Did task this morning, and believe that I shall get on now
very well. Wrote about five leaves. I have been baking and fevering
myself like a fool for these two years in a room exposed to the south;
comfortable in winter, but broiling in the hot weather. Now I have
removed myself into the large cool library, one of the most refreshing
as well as handsomest rooms in Scotland, and will not use the study
again till the heats are past. Here is an entry as solemn as if it
respected the Vicar of Wakefield's removal from the yellow room to the
brown. But I think my labours will advance greatly in consequence of
this arrangement. Walked in the evening to the lake.

_July_ 15.--Achieved six pages to-day, and finished volume i. of
_Chronicles_. It is rather long; but I think the last story interesting,
and it should not be split up into parts. J.B. will, I fear, think it
low; and if he thinks so, others will. Yet--vamos. Drove to Huntly Burn
in the evening.

_July_ 16.--Made a good morning's work of the _Tales_. In the day-time
corrected various proofs. J.B. thinks that in the proposed introduction
I contemn too much the occupation by which I have thriven so well, and
hints that I may easily lead other people to follow my opinion in
vilipending my talents, and the use I have made of them. I cannot tell.
I do not like, on the one hand, to suppress my own opinion of the
_flocci-pauci-nihili-pilification_ with which I regard these things; but
yet, in duty to others, I cannot afford to break my own bow, or befoul
my own nest, and there may be something like affectation and _nolo
episcopari_ in seeming to underrate my own labours; so, all things
considered, I will erase the passage. Truth should not be spoke at all
times. In the evening we had a delightful drive to Ashestiel with
Colonel and Miss Ferguson.

_July 17_.--I wrote a laborious task; seven pages of _Tales_. Kept about
the doors all day. Gave Bogie £10 to buy cattle to-morrow at St.
Boswell's Fair. Here is a whimsical subject of affliction. Mr. Harper, a
settler, who went from this country to Botany Bay, thinking himself
obliged to me for a recommendation to General M'Allister and Sir Thomas
Brisbane, has thought proper to bring me home a couple of Emus. I wish
his gratitude had either taken a different turn, or remained as
quiescent as that of others whom I have obliged more materially. I at
first accepted the creatures, conceiving them, in my ignorance, to be
some sort of blue and green parrot, which, though I do not admire their
noise, might scream and yell at their pleasure if hung up in the hall
among the armour. But your emu, it seems, stands six feet high on his
stocking soles, and is little better than a kind of cassowary or
ostrich. Hang them! they might [eat] up my collection of old arms for
what I know. It reminds me of the story of the adjutant birds in
Theodore Hook's novel[10]. No; I'll no Emuses!

_July 18_.--Entered this morning on the history of Sir William Wallace.
I wish I may be able to find my way between what the child can
comprehend and what shall not yet be absolutely uninteresting to the
grown readers. Uncommon facts I should think the best receipt. Learn
that Mr. Owen Rees and John Gibson have amicably settled their
differences about the last edition of _Napoleon_, the Trustees allowing
the publishers nine months' credit. My nerves have for these two or
three last days been susceptible of an acute excitement from the
slightest causes; the beauty of the evening, the sighing of the summer
breeze, brings the tears into my eyes not unpleasingly. But I must take
exercise, and caseharden myself. There is no use in encouraging these
moods of the mind. It is not the law we live on.

We had a little party with some luncheon at the lake, where Mr.
Bainbridge fished without much success. Captain Hamilton and two Messrs.
Stirling, relatives of my old friend Keir, were there, and walked with
me a long round home. I walked better than I had done for some days. Mr.
Scrope dined with us; he was complaining of gout, which is a bad
companion for the stag-shooting.

_July 19_.--I made out my task this forenoon, and a good deal more. Sent
five or six pages to James Ballantyne, _i.e._ got them ready, and wrote
till the afternoon, then I drove over to Huntly Burn, and walked through
the glens till dinner-time. After dinner read and worked till bed-time.
Yet I have written well, walked well, talked well, and have nothing to
regret.

_July 20_.--Despatched my letters to J.B., with supply of copy, and made
up more than my task--about four leaves, I think. Offered my Emuses to
the Duke of Buccleuch. I had an appointment with Captain Hamilton and
his friends the Stirlings, that they were to go up Yarrow to-day. But
the weather seems to say no.

My visitors came, however, and we went up to Newark. Here is a little
misfortune, for Spice left me, and we could not find her. As we had no
servant with us on horseback, I was compelled to leave her to her fate,
resolving to send in quest of her to-morrow morning. The keepers are my
_bonos socios_, as the host says in the Devil of Edmonton[11], and would
as soon shoot a child as a dog of mine. But there are scamps and traps,
and I am ashamed to say how reluctantly I left the poor little terrier
to its fate.

She came home to me, however, about an hour and a half after we were
home, to my great delectation. Our visitors dined with us.

_July_ 21.--This morning wrote five pages of children's history. Went to
Minto, where we met, besides Lord M. and his delightful countess, Thomas
Thomson, Kennedy of Dunure[12], Lord Carnarvon, and his younger son and
daughter-in-law; the dowager Lady Minto also, whom I always delight to
see, she is so full of spirit and intelligence. We rubbed up some
recollections of twenty years ago, when I was more intimate with the
family till Whig and Tory separated us for a time. By the way, nobody
talks Whig or Tory just now, and the fighting men on each side go about
muzzled and mute like dogs after a proclamation about canine madness. Am
I sorry for this truce or not? Half and half. It is all we have left to
stir the blood, this little political brawling; but better too little of
it than too much.

_July_ 22, [_Abbotsford_].--Rose a little later than usual, and wrote a
letter to Mrs. Joanna Baillie. She is writing a tragedy[13] on
witchcraft. I shall be curious to see it. Will it be real
witchcraft--the _ipsissimus diabolus_--or an impostor, or the
half-crazed being who believes herself an ally of condemned spirits, and
desires to be so? That last is a sublime subject. We set out after
breakfast, and reached this about two. I walked from two till four;
chatted a long time with Charles after dinner, and thus went my day
_sine linea_. But we will make it up. James Ballantyne dislikes my
"Drovers." But it shall stand. I must have my own way sometimes.

I received news of two deaths at once: Lady Die Scott, my very old
friend, and Archibald Constable, the bookseller.

_July_ 23.--Yes! they are both for very different reasons subjects of
reflection. Lady Diana Scott, widow of Walter Scott of Harden, was the
last person whom I recollect so much older than myself, that she kept
always at the same distance in point of years, so that she scarce seemed
older to me (relatively) two years ago, when in her ninety-second year,
than fifty years before. She was the daughter (alone remaining) of
Pope's Earl of Marchmont, and, like her father, had an acute mind and an
eager temper. She was always kind to me, remarkably so indeed when I was
a boy.

Constable's death might have been a most important thing to me if it had
happened some years ago, and I should then have lamented it much. He has
lived to do me some injury; yet, excepting the last £5000, I think most
unintentionally. He was a prince of booksellers; his views sharp,
powerful, and liberal; too sanguine, however, and, like many bold and
successful schemers, never knowing when to stand or stop, and not always
calculating his means to his objects with mercantile accuracy. He was
very vain, for which he had some reason, having raised himself to great
commercial eminence, as he might also have attained great wealth with
good management. He knew, I think, more of the business of a bookseller
in planning and executing popular works than any man of his time. In
books themselves he had much bibliographical information, but none
whatever that could be termed literary. He knew the rare volumes of his
library not only by the eye, but by the touch, when blindfolded. Thomas
Thomson saw him make this experiment, and, that it might be complete,
placed in his hand an ordinary volume instead of one of these _libri
rariores_. He said he had over-estimated his memory; he could not
recollect that volume. Constable was a violent-tempered man with those
that he dared use freedom with. He was easily overawed by people of
consequence, but, as usual, took it out of those whom poverty made
subservient to him. Yet he was generous, and far from bad-hearted. In
person good-looking, but very corpulent latterly; a large feeder, and
deep drinker, till his health became weak. He died of water in the
chest, which the natural strength of his constitution set long at
defiance. I have no great reason to regret him; yet I do. If he deceived
me, he also deceived himself.[14]

Wrote five pages to-day, and went to see Mr. Scrope, who is fast with
the gout--a bad companion to attend him

                 "to Athole Braes,
    To shoot the dun deer down, down--
    To shoot the dun deer down."

_July_ 24.--Finished five pages before eleven o'clock, at which time Mr.
Deputy Register[15] arrived from Minto, and we had an agreeable
afternoon, talking about the old days we have had together. I was
surprised to find that Thomson knew as little as I do myself how to
advise Charles to a good course of Scottish History. Hailes and
Pinkerton, Robertson and Laing--there is nothing else for it--and
Pinkerton is poor work. Laing, besides his party spirit, has a turn for
generalising, which renders him rather dull, which was not the nature of
the acute Orcadian.

_July_ 25.--Thomson left us this morning early. I finished four pages,
and part of a fifth, then drove to Huntly Burn and returned through the
Glen; I certainly turn _heavy-footed_, not in the female sense, however.
I had one or two falls among the slippy heather, not having Tom Purdie
to give me his arm. I suppose I shall need a go-cart one of these days;
and if it must be so--so let it be. _Fiat voluntas tua_.

A letter from John Gibson in the evening brought me word that Lord
Newton had adjudged the profits of _Woodstock_ and _Napoleon_ to be my
own. This is a great matter, and removes the most important part of my
dispute with Constable's creditors. I waked in the middle of the night.
Sure I am not such a feather-headed gull as not to be able to sleep for
good news. I am thankful that it is as it is. Had it been otherwise, I
could have stood it. The money realised will pay one-third of all that I
owe in the world--and what will pay the other two-thirds? I am as well
and as capable as when those misfortunes began--January was a year. The
public favour may wane, indeed, but it has not failed as yet, and I must
not be too anxious about that possibility.

James B. has found fault with my tales for being too historical;
formerly it was for being too infantine. He calls out for starch, and is
afraid of his cravat being too stiff. O ye critics, will nothing melt
ye?

_July_ 26.--Wrote till one o'clock, and finished the first volume of
_Tales_--about six leaves. To-morrow I resume the _Chronicles_, tooth
and nail. They must be good, if possible. After all, works of fiction,
viz., cursed lies, are easier to write, and much more popular than the
best truths. Walked over to the head of the Roman road, coming round by
Bauchland and the Abbot's Walk. Wrote letters in the evening.

_July_ 27.--In the morning still busied with my correspondence. No great
desire to take up the _Chronicles_. But it must be done. Devil take the
necessity, and the folly and knavery, that occasioned it! But this is no
matter now. Accordingly I set tightly to work, and got on till two, when
I took a walk. Was made very happy by the arrival of Sophia and her
babies, all in good health and spirits.

_July_ 28.--Worked hard in the morning. The two Ballantynes, and Mr.
Hogarth with them. Owen Rees came early in the day. Fergusons came to
dinner. Rees in great kindness and good-humour, but a little drumlie, I
think, about _Napoleon_. We heard Sandie's violin after dinner--

    "----Whose touch harmonious can remove
    The pangs of guilty power and hopeless love."[16]

I do not understand or care about fine music; but there is something in
his violin which goes to the very heart. Sophia sung too, and we were
once more merry in hall--the first time for this many a month and many a
day.

_July_ 29.--Could not do more than undertake my proofs to-day, of which
J.B. has brought out a considerable quantity. Walked at one with Hogarth
and Rees--the day sultry, hot, and we hot accordingly, but crept about
notwithstanding. I am sorry to see my old and feal friend James rather
unable to walk--once so stout and active--so was I in my way _once_. Ah!
that vile word, what a world of loss it involves!

_July_ 30.--One of the most peppering thunder-storms which I have heard
for some time. Routed and roared from six in the morning till eight
continuously.

    "The thunder ceased not, nor the fire reposed;
                  Well done, old Botherby."

Time wasted, though very agreeably, after breakfast. At noon, set out
for Chiefswood in the carriage, and walked home, footing it over rough
and smooth, with the vigour of early days. James Ballantyne marched on
too, somewhat meltingly, but without complaint. We again had beautiful
music after dinner. The heart of age arose. I have often wondered
whether I have a taste for music or no. My ear appears to me as dull as
my voice is incapable of musical expression, and yet I feel the utmost
pleasure in any such music as I can comprehend, learned pieces always
excepted. I believe I may be about the pitch of Terry's connoisseurship,
and that "I have a reasonable good ear for a jig, but your solos and
sonatas give me the spleen."

_July_ 31.--Employed the morning writing letters and correcting proofs;
this is the second day and scarce a line written, but circumstances are
so much my apology that even Duty does not murmur, at least not _much_.
We had a drive up to Galashiels, and sent J.B. off to Edinburgh in the
Mail. Music in the evening as before.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Written by R. Plumer Ward, author of _Tremaine_ and other works. Mr.
Ward's _Political Life_, including a _Diary_ to 1820, was published in
1850. in two vols. 8vo, edited by Hon. E. Phipps.

[2] See _post_, p. 60, note.

[3] See _ante_, vol. i. pp. 101-2.

[4] _Napoleon_.

[5] Archibald Campbell Tait, afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.

[6] David Hume, the historian, died August 25, 1776.

[7] To please the king, Canning appointed the Duke of Clarence as first
Lord of the Admiralty, but Greville says it was a most judicious stroke
of policy, and nothing served so much to disconcert his opponents. Lord
Melville had held the office from March 25, 1812, to April 13, 1827. The
Duke resigned in the following year.--See Croker's _Correspondence_,
vol. i. pp. 264 (letter to Blomfield), 427, 429; also _ante_, vol. i. p.
262. Lord Melville was President of the India Board in the Duke of
Wellington's administration in 1828, and again First Lord from Sept. 17
of the same year until Nov. 22, 1830.

[8] The Rev. William Stephen Gilly, D.D., Vicar of Norham, author of
_Narrative of an Excursion to the Mountains of Piemont_, 1823;
_Researches among the Vaudois or Waldenses_, 1827-31.

[9] See Raine's _St. Cuthbert_, 4to, Durham, 1828.

[10] See _Danvers_ in First Series of _Sayings and Doings_.

[11] _The Merry Devil of Edmonton_, a play by "T.B.," which has also
been attributed to Anthony Brewer.

[12] Right Hon. Thomas Francis Kennedy, M.P. for Ayr Burghs, 1818-34.
Died at the age of ninety at Dalquharran in 1879.

[13] This powerful drama, entitled _Witchcraft: a Tragedy in Prose_, was
suggested, as the author says in her preface, by reading a scene in _The
Bride of Lammermoor_.

[14] Did Constable ruin Scott, as has been generally supposed? It is
right to say that such a charge was not made during the lifetime of
either. Immediately after Scott's death Miss Edgeworth wrote to Sir
James Gibson-Craig and asked him for authentic information as to Sir
Walter's connection with Constable. Sir James in reply stated that to
his personal knowledge Mr. Constable had, in his anxiety to save Scott,
about 1814 [1813], commenced a system of accommodation bills which could
not fail to produce, and actually did produce, the ruin of both parties.
To another correspondent, some years later, he wrote still more strongly
(_Memoirs,_ vol. iii. p. 457).

Scott appears to have been aware of the facts so far, as he says to
Laidlaw, in a letter of December 16, 1825, "The confusion of 1814 is a
joke to this ... but it arises out of the nature of the same connection
which gives, and has given, me a fortune;" and Mr. Lockhart says that
the firm of J.B. & Co. "had more than once owed its escape from utter
ruin and dishonour" through Constable's exertions.--_Life_, vol. v. p.
150.

On reading the third volume of Constable's Memoirs (3 vols. 8vo, 1873),
one cannot fail to see that all the three parties--printer, publisher,
and author--were equal sharers in the imprudences that led to the
disaster in 1826. Whether Mr. Constable was right in recommending
further advances to the London house is doubtful; but if it was an error
of judgment, it was one which appears to have been shared by Mr. Cadell
and Mr. James Ballantyne. It must be admitted that the three firms were
equally culpable in maintaining for so many years a system of fictitious
credit. Constable, at least, from a letter to Scott, printed in vol.
iii. p. 274, had become seriously alarmed as early as August 8, 1823.

That Constable was correct in his estimate of the value of the literary
property has been shown by the large sums realised from the sale of
Scott's works since 1829; and that his was the brain ("the pendulum of
the clock" as Scott termed it) to plan is also shown by the fact that
the so-called "favourite" edition, the _magnum opus_, appears to have
been Constable's idea (_Memoirs_, vol. iii. p. 255), although, according
to the _Annual Register_ of 1849, Mr. Cadell claimed the merit of a
scheme which he had "quietly and privately matured."

[15] Thomas Thomson, Depute-Clerk Register for Scotland under Lord
Frederick Campbell.

[16] Johnson's _Epitaph on Claude Phillips_.




AUGUST.


_August_ 1.--My guests left me and I thought of turning to work again
seriously. Finished five pages. Dined alone, excepting Huntly Gordon,
who is come on a visit, poor lad. I hope he is well fixed under Mr.
Planta's[17] patronage. Smoked a cigar after dinner. Laughed with my
daughters, and read them the review of Hoffmann's production out of
Gillies's new _Foreign Review_.

The undertaking would do, I am convinced, in any other person's hands
than those of the improvident editor; but I hear he is living as
thoughtlessly as ever in London, has hired a large house, and gives
Burgundy to his guests. This will hardly suit £500 a year.

_August_ 2.--Got off my proofs. Went over to breakfast at Huntly Burn;
the great object was to see my cascade in the Glen suitably repaired. I
have had it put to rights by puddling and damming. What says the frog in
the Fairy Tale?--

    "Stuff with moss, and clog with clay,
    And that will weize the water away."

Having seen the job pretty tightly done, walked deliciously home through
the woods. But no work all this while. Then for up and at it. But in
spite of good resolutions I trifled with my children after dinner, and
read to them in the evening, and did just nothing at all.

_August_ 3.--Wrote five pages and upwards--scarce amends for past
laziness. Huntly Gordon lent me a volume of his father's manuscript
memoirs.[18] They are not without interest, for Pryse Gordon, though a
bit of a _roué_, is a clever fellow in his way. One thing struck me,
being the story of an Irish swindler, who called himself Henry King
Edgeworth, an impudent gawsey fellow, who deserted from Gordon's
recruiting party, enlisted again, and became so great a favourite with
the Colonel of the regiment which he joined, that he was made
pay-sergeant. Here he deserted to purpose with £200 or £300, escaped to
France, got a commission in the Corps sent to invade Ireland, was taken,
recognised, and hanged. What would Mr. Theobald Wolfe Tone have said to
such an associate in his regenerating expedition? These are thy gods, O
Israel! The other was the displeasure of the present Cameron of Lochiel,
on finding that the forty Camerons, with whom he joined the Duke of
Gordon's Northern Fencible regiment, were to be dispersed. He had
wellnigh mutinied and marched back with them. This would be a good
anecdote for Garth.[19]

_August_ 4.--Spent the morning at Selkirk, examining people about an
assault. When I returned I found Charlotte Kerr here with a clever
little boy, Charles Scott, grandson of Charles of the Woll, and son of
William, and grand-nephew of John of Midgehope. He seems a smart boy,
and, considering that he is an only son with expectations, not _too_
much spoiled. General Yermoloff called with a letter from a Dr. Knox,
whom I do not know. If it be Vicesimus, we met nearly twenty-five years
ago and did not agree. But General Yermoloff's name was luckily known to
me. He is a man in the flower of life, about thirty, handsome, bold, and
enthusiastic; a great admirer of poetry, and all that. He had been in
the Moscow campaign, and those which followed, but must have been very
young. He made not the least doubt that Moscow was burned by Rostopchin,
and said that there was a general rumour before the French entered the
town, and while the inhabitants were leaving it, that persons were left
to destroy it. I asked him why the magazine of gunpowder had not been
set fire to in the first instance. He answered that he believed the
explosion of that magazine would have endangered the retreating
Russians. This seemed unsatisfactory. The march of the Russians was too
distant from Moscow to be annoyed by the circumstance. I pressed him as
well as I could about the slowness of Koutousoff's operations; and he
frankly owned that the Russians were so much rejoiced and surprised to
see the French in retreat, that it was long ere they could credit the
extent of the advantage which they had acquired. This has been but an
idle day, so far as composition is concerned, but I was detained late at
Selkirk.

_August_ 5.--Wrote near six pages. General Yermoloff left me with many
expressions of enthusiastic regard, as foreigners use to do. He is a
kinsman of Princess Galitzin, whom I saw at Paris. I walked with Tom
after one o'clock. Dined _en famille_ with Miss Todd, a pretty girl, and
wrote after dinner.

_August_ 6.--This morning finished proofs and was _bang up_ with
everything. When I was about to sit down to write, I have the agreeable
tidings that Henderson, the fellow who committed the assault at Selkirk,
and who made his escape from the officers on Saturday, was retaken, and
that it became necessary that I should go up to examine him. Returned at
four, and found Mrs. George Swinton from Calcutta, to whose husband I
have been much obliged, with Archie and cousin Peggie Swinton, arrived.
So the evening was done up.

_August_ 7.--Cousins still continuing, we went to Melrose. I finished,
however, in the first place, a pretty smart task, which is so far well,
as we expect the Skenes to-morrow. Lockhart arrived from London. The
news are that Canning is dangerously ill. This is the bowl being broken
at the cistern with a vengeance. If he dies now, it will be pity it was
not five months ago. The time has been enough to do much evil, but not
to do any-permanent good.

_August_ 8.--Huntly Gordon proposed to me that I should give him my
correspondence, which we had begun to arrange last year. I resolved not
to lose the opportunity, and began to look out and arrange the letters
from about 1810, throwing out letters of business and such as are
private. They are of little consequence, generally speaking, yet will be
one day curious. I propose to have them bound up, to save trouble. It is
a sad task; how many dead, absent, estranged, and altered! I wrought
till the Skenes came at four o'clock. I love them well; yet I wish their
visit had been made last week, when other people were here. It kills
time, or rather murders it, this company-keeping. Yet what remains on
earth that I like so well as a little society? I wrote not a line
to-day.

_August_ 9.--I finished the arrangement of the letters so as to put them
into Mr. Gordon's hands. It will be a great job done. But, in the
meanwhile, it interrupts my work sadly, for I kept busy till one o'clock
to-day with this idle man's labour. Still, however, it might have been
long enough ere I got a confidential person like Gordon to arrange these
confidential papers. They are all in his hands now. Walked after one.

_August_ 10.--This is a morning of fidgety, nervous confusion. I sought
successively my box of Bramah pens, my proof-sheets, and last, not least
anxiously, my spectacles. I am convinced I lost a full hour in these
various chases. I collected all my insubordinate movables at once, but
had scarce corrected the proof and written half-a-score of lines, than
enter Dalgleish, declaring the Blucher hour is come. The weather,
however, is rainy, and fitted for a day of pure work, but I was able
only to finish my task of three pages.

The death of the Premier is announced. Late George Canning, the witty,
the accomplished, the ambitious; he who had toiled thirty years, and
involved himself in the most harassing discussions to attain this dizzy
height; he who had held it for three months of intrigue and obloquy--and
now a heap of dust, and that is all. He was an early and familiar friend
of mine, through my intimacy with George Ellis. No man possessed a gayer
and more playful wit in society; no one, since Pitt's time, had more
commanding sarcasm in debate; in the House of Commons he was the terror
of that species of orators called the Yelpers. His lash fetched away
both skin and flesh, and would have penetrated the hide of a rhinoceros.
In his conduct as a statesman he had a great fault: he lent himself too
willingly to intrigue. Thus he got into his quarrel with Lord
Castlereagh,[20] and lost credit with the country for want of openness.
Thus too, he got involved with the Queen's party to such an extent that
it fettered him upon that memorable quarrel, and obliged him to butter
Sir Robert Wilson with dear friend, and gallant general, and so forth.
The last composition with the Whigs was a sacrifice of principle on both
sides. I have some reason to think they counted on getting rid of him in
two or three years. To me Canning was always personally most kind. I
saw, with pain, a great change in his health when I met him at Colonel
Bolton's at Stors in 1825. In London I thought him looking better.

_August_ 11.--Wrote nearly five pages; then walked. A visit from Henry
Scott;[21] nothing known as yet about politics. A high Tory
Administration would be a great evil at this time. There are repairs in
the structure of our constitution which ought to be made at this season,
and without which the people will not long be silent. A pure Whig
Administration would probably play the devil by attempting a thorough
repair. As to a compound, or melo-dramatic, Ministry, the parts out of
which such a one could be organised just now are at a terrible discount
in public estimation, nor will they be at par in a hurry again. The
public were generally shocked at the complete lack of principle
testified by public men on the late occasion, and by some who till then
had some credit with the public. The Duke of W. has risen by his
firmness on the one side, Earl Grey on the other.

_August_ 12.--Wrote my task and no more. Walked with Lockhart from one
o'clock to four. Took in our way the Glen, which looks beautiful. I
walked with extreme pain and feebleness until we began to turn
homewards, when the relaxation of the ankle sinews seemed to be removed,
and I trode merrily home. This is strange; that exercise should restore
the nerves from the chill or numbness which is allied to palsy, I am
well aware, but how it should restore elasticity to sinews that are too
much relaxed, I for one cannot comprehend. Colonel Russell came to
dinner with us, and to consult me about some family matters. He has the
spirit of a gentleman; that is certain.

_August_ 13.--A letter from booksellers at Brussels informs me of the
pleasant tidings that _Napoleon_ is a total failure; that they have lost
much money on a version which they were at great expense in preparing,
and modestly propose that I should write a novel to make them amends for
loss on a speculation which I knew nothing about. "Have you nothing else
to ask?" as Sancho says to the farmer, who asks him to stock a farm for
his son, portion off his daughters, etc. etc. They state themselves to
be young booksellers; certes, they must hold me to be a _very_ young
author! Napoleon, however, has failed on the Continent--and perhaps in
England also; for, from the mumbling, half-grumbling tone of Longman and
Co., dissatisfaction may be apprehended. Well, I can set my face to it
boldly. I live not in the public opinion, not I; but egad! I live _by_
it, and that is worse. _Tu ne cede malis, sed contra_, etc.

I corrected and transmitted sheets before breakfast; afterwards went and
cut wood with Tom, but returned about twelve in rather a melancholy
humour. I fear this failure may be followed by others; and then what
chance of extricating my affairs. But they that look to freits, freits
will follow them. _Hussards en avant_,--care killed a cat. I finished
three pages--that is, a full task of the _Chronicles_--after I returned.
Mr. and Mrs. Philips of Manchester came to dinner.

_August 14._--Finished my task before breakfast. A bad rainy day, for
which I should not have cared but for my guests. However, being
good-humoured persons and gifted with taste, we got on very well, by
dint of showing prints, curiosities; finally the house up stairs and
down; and at length by undertaking a pilgrimage to Melrose in the rain,
which pilgrimage we accomplished, but never entered the Abbey Church,
having just had wetting enough to induce us, when we arrived at the
gate, to "Turn again, Whittington."

_August_ 15.--Wrote in the morning. After breakfast walked with Mr.
Philips, who is about to build and plan himself, and therefore seemed to
enter _con amore_ into all I had been doing, asked questions, and seemed
really interested to learn what I thought myself not ill-qualified to
teach. The little feeling of superior information in such cases is
extremely agreeable. On the contrary, it is a great scrape to find you
have been boring some one who did not care a d---- about the matter, so
to speak; and that you might have been as well employed in buttering a
whin-stone. Mr. and Mrs. Philips left us about twelve--day bad. I wrote
nearly five pages of _Chronicles_.

_August_ 16.--A wet, disagreeable, sulky day, but such things may be
carried to account. I wrote upwards of seven pages, and placed myself
_rectus in curia_ with Madam Duty, who was beginning to lift up her
throat against me. Nothing remarkable except that Huntly Gordon left
us.

_August 17._--Wrote my task in the morning. After breakfast went out and
cut wood with Tom and John Swanston, and hewed away with my own hand;
remained on foot from eleven o'clock till past three, doing, in my
opinion, a great deal of good in plantations above the house, where the
firs had been permitted to predominate too much over the oak and
hardwood. The day was rough and stormy--not the worst for working, and I
could do it with a good conscience, all being well forward in the duty
line. After tea I worked a little longer. On the whole finished four
leaves and upwards--about a printed sheet--which is enough for one day.

_August_ 18.--Finished about five leaves, and then out to the wood,
where I chopped away among the trees, laying the foundation for future
scenery. These woods will one day occupy a great number of hands. Four
years hence they will employ ten stout woodsmen almost every day of the
year. Henry and William Scott (Harden) came to dinner.

_August_ 19.--Wrote till about one, then walked for an hour or two by
myself entirely; finished five pages before dinner, when we had Captain
and Mrs. Hamilton and young Davidoff, who is their guest. They remained
with us all night.

_August_ 20.--I corrected proofs and wrote one leaf before breakfast;
then went up to Selkirk to try a fellow for an assault. The people there
get rather riotous. This is a turbulent fierce fellow. Some of his
attitudes were good during the trial. This dissipated my attention for
the day, although I was back by half-past two. I did not work any more,
so am behind in my reckoning.

_August_ 21.--Wrote four pages, then set out to make a call at
Sunderland Hall and Yair, but the old sociable broke down before we had
got past the thicket, so we trudged all back on foot, and I wrote
another page. This makes up the deficiency of yesterday.

_August_ 22.--I wrote four or five leaves, but begin to get aground for
want of Indian localities. Colonel Ferguson's absence is unlucky, and
half-a-dozen Qui Hi's besides, willing to write chits,[22] eat tiffin,
and vent all their Pagan jargon when one does not want to hear it; and
now that I want a touch of their slang, lo! there is not one near me.
Mr. Adolphus, son of the celebrated counsel, and author of a work on the
_Waverley Novels_,[23] came to make me a visit. He is a modest as well
as an able man, and I am obliged to him for the delicacy with which he
treated a matter in which I was personally so much concerned. Mr. and
Mrs. Hamilton asked us to breakfast to-morrow.

_August_ 23.--Went to breakfast at Chiefswood, which, with a circuitous
walk, have consumed the day. Found, in the first place, my friend Allan,
the painter, busy about a picture, into which he intends introducing
living characters--a kind of revel at Abbotsford. Second, a whimsical
party, consisting of John Stevenson, the bookseller, Peter Buchan from
Peterhead, a quiz of a poetical creature, and a bookbinder, a friend of
theirs. The plan was to consult me about publishing a great quantity of
ballads which this Mr. Buchan has collected. I glanced them over. He has
been very successful, for they are obviously genuine, and many of them
very curious. Others are various editions of well-known ballads. I could
not make the man comprehend that these last were of little value, being
generally worse readings of what was already published. A small edition
published by subscription may possibly succeed. It is a great pity that
few of these ballads are historical, almost all being of the romantic
cast. They certainly ought to be preserved, after striking out one or
two which have been sophisticated, I suppose by Mr. Buchan himself,
which are easily distinguishable from the genuine ballads.[24] No one
but Burns ever succeeded in patching up old Scottish songs with any good
effect.

_August_ 24.--Corrected proofs and wrote letters in the morning. Began a
review upon Monteath's Planter for Lockhart.[25] Other matters at a
stand. A drive down to Mertoun, and engaged to dine there on Sunday
first. This consumed the day.

_August_ 25.--Mr. Adolphus left us this morning after a very agreeable
visit. We all dined at Dr. Brewster's. Met Sir John Wright, Miss Haig,
etc. Slandered our neighbours, and were good company. Major John Scott
there. I did a little more at the review to-day. But I cannot go on with
the tale without I could speak a little Hindostanee--a small seasoning
of curry-powder. Ferguson will do it if I can screw it out of him.

_August_ 26.--Encore review. Walked from twelve till three, then drove
to Mertoun with Lockhart and Allan. Dined _en famille_, and home by
half-past ten. We thought of adding a third volume to the _Chronicles_,
but Gibson is afraid it would give grounds for a pretext to seize this
work on the part of Constable's creditors, who seem determined to take
any advantage of me, but they can only show their teeth I trust; though
I wish the arbitration was ended.

_August_ 27.--Sent off proofs in morning, revised in afternoon. Walked
from one till four. What a life of uniformity! Yet I never wish to
change it. I even regret I must go to town to meet Lady Compton[26] next
week.

A singular letter from a lady, requesting I would father a novel of
hers. That won't pass.[27]

Cadell writes me, transmitting a notice from the French papers that
Gourgaud has gone, or is going, to London to verify the facts alleged in
my history of Napoleon, and the bibliopolist is in a great funk. I lack
some part of his instinct. I have done Gourgaud no wrong: every word
imputed to him exists in the papers submitted to me as historical
documents[28], and I should have been a shameful coward if I had shunned
using them. At my years it is somewhat late for an affair of honour, and
as a reasonable man I would avoid such an arbitrament, but will not
plead privilege of literature. The country shall not be disgraced in my
person, and having stated why I think I owe him no satisfaction, I will
at the same time most willingly give it to him.

    "Il sera reçu,
      Biribi,
    A la façon de Barbaru,
      Mon ami."

I have written to Will Clerk to stand my friend if necessary. He has
mettle in him, and thinks of my honour as well as my safety.

_August_ 28.--I am still bothering with the review, but gave Lockhart
fifteen leaves, which is something. Learned with regret that Williams
leaves his situation of Rector of the New Academy. It is a shot in the
wing of the institution; for he is a heaven-born teacher. Walked at two
till four along the thicket, and by the river-side, where I go seldom; I
can't say why, unless that the walk is less private than those more
distant. Lockhart, Allan, and I, talk of an excursion to Kelso
to-morrow. I have no friends there now. Yet once how many!

_August_ 29.--Went on our little expedition, breakfasting at Mertoun.
Called at Fleurs, where we found Sir John S. and his whole family. The
great lady received us well, though we had been very remiss in our duty.
From that we went to Kelso, where I saw not a soul to acknowledge former
acquaintance. How should I, when my residence there was before 1783, I
fancy?[29] The little cottage in which I lived with poor Aunt Jenny is
still standing, but the great garden is divided betwixt three
proprietors. Its huge platanus tree withered, I was told, in the same
season which was fatal to so many of the species. It was cut down. The
yew-hedges, labyrinths, wildernesses, and other marks that it had once
been the abode of one of the Millers connected with the author of the
_Gardener's Dictionary_ (they were a Quaker family), are all
obliterated, and the place is as common and vulgar as may be. The lady
the cottage belongs to was very civil. Allan, as a man of taste, was
much delighted with what he saw. When we returned, we found our party at
home increased by Lady Anna Maria Elliot, who had been showing Melrose
to two friends, Miss Drinkwaters. Lady M.'s wit and good-humour made the
evening go pleasantly off. There were also two friends of Charles's, by
name Paley (a nephew of the archdeacon) and Ashworth. They seem nice
young men, with modesty and good-breeding. I am glad, as my mother used
to say, that his friends are so presentable. Moreover, there came my
old, right trusty, and well-beloved friend, John Richardson, so we were
a full party. Lady Anna Maria returned in the evening. Francis Scott
also dined with us.

_August_ 30.--Disposed of my party as I best might, and worked at my
review. Walked out at one, and remained till near five. Mr. Scott of
Harden and David Thomson, W.S., dined with us. Walked with Mr. Allan
through Haxel Cleugh.

_August_ 31.--Went on with my review; but I have got Sir Henry's
original pamphlet,[30] which is very cleverly written. I find I cannot
touch on his mode of transplantation at all in this article. It involves
many questions, and some of importance, so I will make another article
for January. Walked up the Rhymer's Glen with John Richardson.[31]

FOOTNOTES:

[17] Right Hon. Joseph Planta (son of Joseph Planta, Principal Librarian
of the British Museum from 1799) was at this time one of the Secretaries
to the Treasury. He died in 1847.

[18] _Personal Memoirs_ by P.L. Gordon, 2 vols. 8vo, Lond. 1830.

[19] General David Stewart of Garth, author of _Sketches of the
Highlanders_. 2 vols. 8vo, Edin. 1822. General Stewart died in St. Lucia
in 1829. Sir Walter said of him that no man was "more regretted, or
perhaps by a wider circle of friends and acquaintance."

[20] Resulting in the duel of 21st September 1809.--See Croker's
_Correspondence_, vol. i. p. 20; and _Life_, vol. iii. ch. xix.

[21] Afterwards Lord Polwarth.

[22] Persian _chitty_ = a short note.

[23] _Letters to Richard Heber, Esq., containing Critical Remarks on the
Series of Novels beginning with_ "Waverley," _and an Attempt to
ascertain their Author_. 8vo, London, 1821.

[24] They were published under the title _Ancient Ballads and Songs_, 2
vols. 8vo, 1828.

[25] _The Forester's Guide and Profitable Planter_, reviewed in the
_Quarterly_, Oct. 1827. See also "On Planting Waste Lands," in _Misc.
Prose Works_, vol. xxi. pp. 1-76.

[26] Daughter of Mrs. Maclean Clephane, and afterwards Marchioness of
Northampton.

[27] Scott's indorsation of this letter is characteristic--"Prodigious,
bold request, Tom Thumb."

[28] Among the documents laid before Scott in the Colonial Office, when
he was in London at the close of 1826, "were some which represented one
of Bonaparte's attendants at St. Helena, General Gourgaud, as having
been guilty of gross unfairness, giving the English Government private
information that the Emperor's complaints of ill-usage were utterly
unfounded, and yet then and afterwards aiding and assisting the delusion
in France as to the harshness of Sir Hudson Lowe's conduct towards his
captive. Sir Walter, when using these remarkable documents, guessed that
Gourgaud might be inclined to fix a personal quarrel on himself; and
there now appeared in the newspapers a succession of hints that the
General was seriously bent on this purpose. He applied as _Colonel
Grogg_ would have done forty years before to _The Baronet_" [W.
Clerk].--_Life_, vol. ix. pp. 142-3.

A short time previously Gourgaud had had a quarrel with Count Ségur
regarding the latter's _History of the Russian Campaign_, to which he
wrote a reply in 1825, and then fought a duel with the author in support
of his allegations. In Scott's case, however, it came to nothing beyond
a paper war, which Sir Walter declined to prolong, leaving the question
to be decided by the general public. It is due to Gourgaud to state that
on two occasions he saved Napoleon's life, though his subsequent
information to the British Government did not tend to increase his
popularity with the Bonapartists. He died at Paris in his sixty-ninth
year on July 25th, 1852.

[29] _Life_, vol. i. pp. 47, 155-156.

[30] _The Planters' Guide_, by Sir Henry Seton Steuart.

[31] In the _North British Review_, No. 82, there is an extremely
interesting sketch of this learned Peerage lawyer. He died in his 85th
year, in 1864, at his country seat, Kirklands in Roxburghshire, which he
had purchased by Sir Walter's advice.

The following amusing narrative of what took place on Tweedside when
these two old friends were in their prime is given in Mr. Richardson's
own words:--

"On a beautiful morning in September 1810 I started with Sir Walter from
Ashiestiel. We began nearly under the ruins of Elibank, and in sight of
the 'Hanging Tree.' I only had a rod, but Sir Walter walked by my side,
now quoting Izaak Walton, as, 'Fish me this stream by inches,' and now
delighting me with a profusion of Border stories. After the capture of
numerous fine trout, I hooked something greater and unseen, which
powerfully ran out my line. Sir Walter got into a state of great
excitement, exclaiming, 'It's a fish! It's a fish! Hold up your rod!
Give him line!' and so on. The rod, which belonged to one of his boys,
broke, and put us both into great alarm; but I contrived, by ascending
the steep bank and holding down the rod, still to give play to the reel,
till, after a good quarter of an hour's struggle, a trout, for so it
turned out to be, was conducted round a little peninsula. Sir Walter
jumped into the water, seized him, and threw him out on the grass. Tom
Purdie came up a little time after, and was certainly rather discomposed
at my success. 'It will be some sea brute,' he observed; but he became
satisfied that it was a fine river-trout, and such as, he afterwards
admitted, had not been killed in Tweed for twenty years; and when I
moved down the water, he went, as Sir Walter afterwards observed, and
gave it a kick on the head, exclaiming, 'To be ta'en by the like o' him
frae Lunnon!'"




SEPTEMBER.


_September_ 1.--Colonel Ferguson and Colonel Byers breakfasted; the
latter from India, the nephew of the old antiquarian;[32] but I had not
an opportunity to speak to him about the Eastern information required
for the _Chronicles_. Besides, my review is not finished, though I
wrought hard to-day. Sir William Hamilton and his brother, Captain
Hamilton, called; also young Davidoff. I am somewhat sorry for my young
friend. His friends permit him to remain too long in Britain to be happy
in Russia. Yet this [is a] prejudice of those who suppose that when the
institutions and habits by which they are governed come to be known to
strangers, they must become exclusively attached to them. This is not
so. The Hottentot returns from civilisation to the wild manners of his
kraal, and wherefore should not a Russian resume his despotic ideas when
returned to his country?

_September_ 2.--This was a very warm day. I remained at home, chiefly
engaged in arranging papers, as I go away to-morrow. It is lucky these
starts happen from time to time as I should otherwise never get my table
clear. At five o'clock the air became cooler, and I sat out of doors and
played with the children. Anne, who had been at Mertoun the day before,
brought up Anne and Elizabeth Scott[33] with her, and Francis has been
with us since yesterday. Richardson left us.

_September_ 3.--Went on with my arranging of papers till twelve, when I
took chaise and arrived at Melville Castle.

Found Lord and Lady M. and the two young ladies. Dr. Hope, my old
school-fellow James Hope[34] and his son, made up our party, which was
very pleasant. After they went away we had some private conversation
about politics. The Whigs and Tories of the Cabinet are strangely
divided, the former desiring to have Mr. Herries for Chancellor of the
Exchequer, the latter to have Lord Palmerston, that Calcraft may be
Secretary of War. The King has declared firmly for Herries, on which
Lord Goderich with _tears_ entreated Herries to remove the bone of
contention by declining to accept. The King called him a blubbering
fool. That the King does not like or trust the Whigs is obvious from his
passing over Lord Lansdowne, a man who, I should suppose, is infinitely
better fitted for a Premier than Goderich. But he probably looks with no
greater [favour] on the return of the High Tories. I fear he may wish to
govern by the system of _bascule_, or balancing the two parties, a
perilous game[35]. The Advocate[36] also dined with us.


_September 4, [Edinburgh]_.--Came into town after breakfast, and saw
Gibson, whose account of affairs is comfortable. Also William Clerk,
whom I found quite ready and willing to stand my friend if Gourgaud
should come my road. He agrees with me that there is no reason why he
should turn on me, but that if he does, reason or none, it is best to
stand buff to him. It is clear to me that what is least forgiven in a
man of any mark or likelihood is want of that article blackguardly
called _pluck_. All the fine qualities of genius cannot make amends for
it. We are told the genius of poets especially is irreconcilable with
this species of grenadier accomplishment[37]. If so, _quel chien de
génie_! Saw Lady Compton. I dine with her to-day, and go to Glasgow with
her to-morrow.

_September 5_.--Dined with Lady Compton yesterday, and talked over old
stories until nine, our _tête-à-tête_ being a very agreeable one. Then
hence to my good friend John Gibson's, and talked with him of sundries.
I had an odd dream last night. It seemed to me that I was at a panorama,
when a vulgar little man behind me was making some very clever but
impudent remarks on the picture, and at the same time seemed desirous of
information, which no one would give him. I turned round and saw a young
fellow dressed like a common carter, with a blue coat and red waistcoat,
and a whip tied across him. He was young, with a hatchet-face, which was
turned to a brick colour by exposure to the weather, sharp eyes, and in
manner and voice not unlike John Leyden. I was so much struck with his
countenance and talents that I asked him about his situation, and
expressed a wish to mend it. He followed me, from the hopes which I
excited, and we had a dreadful walk among ruins, and afterwards I found
myself on horseback, and in front of a roaring torrent. I plunged in as
I have formerly done in good sad earnest, and got to the other side.
Then I got home among my children and grandchildren, and there also was
my genius. Now this would defy Daniel and the soothsayers to boot; nor
do I know why I should now put it down, except that I have seldom seen a
portrait in life which was more strongly marked on my memory than that
man's. Perhaps my genius was Mr. Dickinson, papermaker, who has
undertaken that the London creditors who hold Constable's bills will be
satisfied with 10s. in the pound. This would be turning a genius to
purpose, for 6s. 8d. is provided, and they can have no difficulty about
3s. 4d. These debts, for which I am legally responsible, though no party
to their contraction, amount to £30,000 odds. Now if they can be cleared
for £15,000 it is just so much gained. This would be a giant step to
freedom. I see in my present comfortable quarters[38] some of my own
old furniture in Castle St., which gives me rather queer feelings. I
remember poor Charlotte and I having so much thought about buying these
things. Well, they are in kind and friendly hands.

_September 6_.--Went with Lady Compton to Glasgow, and had as pleasant a
journey as the kindness, wit, and accomplishment of my companion could
make it. Lady C. gives an admirable account of Rome, and the various
strange characters she has met in foreign parts. I was much taken with
some stories out of a romance called _Manuscrit trouvé à Saragosse_, by
a certain Count John Polowsky [Potocki?], a Pole. It seems betwixt the
style of Cazotti, Count Hamilton and Le Sage. The Count was a toiler
after supernatural secrets, an adept, and understood the cabbala. He put
himself to death, with many odd circumstances, inferring derangement. I
am to get a sight of the book if it be possible. At Glasgow (Buck's
Head) we met Mrs. Maclean Clephane and her two daughters, and there was
much joy. After the dinner the ladies sung, particularly Anna Jane, who
has more taste and talent of every kind than half the people going with
great reputations on their backs.

A very pleasant day was paid for by a restless night.

_September_ 7.--This day had calls from Lord Provost and Mr. Rutherford
(William) with invitations, which I declined. Read in manuscript a very
clever play (comedy) by Miss A.J. Clephane in the old style, which was
very happily imitated. The plot was confused--too much taking and
retaking of prisoners, but the dialogue was excellent.

Took leave of these dear friends, never perhaps to meet all together
again, for two of us are old. Went down by steam to Colonel Campbell's,
Blythswood House, where I was most courteously received by him and his
sisters. We are kinsfolk and very old acquaintance. His seat here is a
fine one; the house is both grand and comfortable.

We walked to Lawrence Lockhart's of Inchinnan, within a mile of
Blythswood House. It is extremely nice and comfortable, far beyond the
style of a Scotch clergyman; but Lawrence is wealthy. I found John
Lockhart and Sophia there, returned from Largs. We all dined at Colonel
Campbell's on turtle, and all manner of good things. Miss A. and H.
Walker were there. The sleep at night made amends for the Buck's Head.

_September_ 8.--Colonel Campbell carried me to breakfast in Glasgow, and
at ten I took chaise for Corehouse, where I found my old friend George
Cranstoun rejoiced to see me, and glad when I told him what Lord Newton
had determined in my affairs. I should observe I saw the banks of the
Clyde above Hamilton much denuded of its copse, _untimely cut_; and the
stools ill cut, and worse kept. Cranstoun and I walked before dinner. I
never saw the great fall of Corehouse from this side before, and I think
it the best point, perhaps; at all events, it is not that from which it
is usually seen; so Lord Corehouse has the sight and escapes the
tourists. Dined with him, his sister Mrs. Cunningham, and Corehouse.

I omitted to mention in yesterday's note that within Blythswood
plantation, near to the Bridge of Inchinnan, the unfortunate Earl of
Argyle was taken in 1685, at a stone called Argyle's Stone. Blythswood
says the Highland drovers break down his fences in order to pay a visit
to the place. The Earl had passed the Cart river, and was taken on the
Renfrew side.

_September_ 9.--This is a superb place of Corehouse's. Cranstoun has as
much feeling about improvement as other things. Like all new improvers,
he is at more expense than is necessary, plants too thick, and trenches
where trenching is superfluous. But this is the eagerness of a young
artist. Besides the grand lion, the Fall of Clyde, he has more than one
lion's whelp; a fall of a brook in a cleugh called Mill's Gill must be
superb in rainy weather. The old Castle of Corehouse is much more
castle-like on this than from the other side.

Left Corehouse at eight in the morning, and reached Lanark by half-past
nine. I was thus long in travelling three miles because the postilion
chose to suppose I was bound for Biggar, and was two miles ere I
discovered what he was doing. I thought he aimed at crossing the Clyde
by some new bridge above Bonnington. Breakfasted at Lanark with the
Lockharts, and reached Abbotsford this evening by nine o'clock.

Thus ends a pleasant expedition among the people I like most. Drawback
only one. It has cost me £15, including two gowns for Sophia and Anne;
and I have lost six days' labour. Both may be soon made up.

_N.B._--We lunched (dined, _videlicet_) with Professor Wilson at
Inverleithen, and met James Hogg,[39]

_September 10, [Abbotsford]_.--Gourgaud's wrath has burst forth in a
very distant clap of thunder, in which he accuses me of combining with
the ministry to slander his rag of a reputation. He be d----d for a
fool, to make his case worse by stirring. I shall only revenge myself
by publishing the whole extracts I made from the records of the Colonial
Office, in which he will find enough to make him bite his nails. Still I
wonder he did not come over and try his manhood otherwise. I would not
have shunned him nor any Frenchman who ever kissed Bonaparte's breech.

_September_ 11.--Went to Huntly Burn and breakfasted with Colonel
Ferguson, who has promised to have some Indian memoranda ready for me.
After breakfast went to choose the ground for a new plantation, to be
added next week to the end of Jane's Wood. Came to dinner Lord Carnarvon
and his son and daughter; also Lord Francis Leveson Gower, the
translator of _Faust_.


_September_ 12.--Walk with Lord Francis. When we return, behold ye!
enter Lady Hampden and Lady Wedderburn. In the days of George Square,
Jane and Maria Brown[40], beauties and toasts. There was much pleasure
on my side, and some, I suppose, on theirs; and there was a riding, and
a running, and a chattering, and an asking, and a showing--a real scene
of confusion, yet mirth and good spirits. Our guests quit us next day.

_September_ 13.--Fined a man for an assault at Selkirk. He pleaded
guilty, which made short work. The beggarly appearance of the Jury in
the new system is very worthy of note. One was a menial servant. When I
returned, James Ballantyne and Mr. Cadell arrived. They bring a good
account of matters in general. Cadell explained to me a plan for
securing the copyright of the novels, which has a very good face. It
appears they are going off fast; and if the glut of the market is once
reduced by sales, the property will be excellent, and may be increased
by notes. James B. brought his son. Robert Rutherford also here, and
Miss Russells.

_September_ 14.--In the morning wrote my answer to Gourgaud, rather too
keen perhaps, but I owe him nothing; and as for exciting his resentment,
I will neither seek nor avoid it.

Cadell's views seem fair, and he is open and explicit. His brothers
support him, and he has no want of cash. He sells two or three copies of
Bonaparte and one of the novels, or two, almost every day. He must soon,
he says, apply to London for copies. Read a Refutation, as it calls
itself, of Napoleon's history. It is so very polite and accommodating
that every third word is a concession--the work of a man able to judge
distinctly on specific facts, but erroneous in his general results. He
will say the same of me, perhaps. Ballantyne and Cadell leave us. Enter
Miss Sinclairs, two in number, also a translator, and a little Flemish
woman, his wife--very good-humoured, rather a little given to
compliment; name Fauconpret. They are to return at night in a gig as far
as Kelso--a bold undertaking.

_September_ 16.--The ladies went to Church; I, God forgive me, finished
the _Chronicles_[41] with a good deal of assistance from Colonel
Ferguson's notes about Indian affairs. The patch is, I suspect, too
glaring to be pleasing; but the Colonel's sketches are capitally good. I
understand, too, there are one or two East Indian novels which have
lately appeared. Naboclish! _vogue la galère_!

_September_ 17.--Received from James B. the proofs of my reply to
General Gourgaud, with some cautious balaam from mine honest friend,
alarmed by a Highland Colonel, who had described Gourgaud as a _mauvais
garçon_, famous fencer, marksman, and so forth. I wrote in answer, which
is true, that I would hope all my friends would trust to my acting with
proper caution and advice; but that if I were capable, in a moment of
weakness, of doing anything short of what my honour demanded, I would
die the death of a poisoned rat in hole, out of mere sense of my own
degradation. God knows, that, though life is placid enough with me, I do
not feel anything to attach me to it so strongly as to occasion my
avoiding any risk which duty to my character may demand from me.

I set to work with the _Tales of a Grandfather_, second volume, and
finished four pages.

_September_ 18.--Wrote five pages of the _Tales_. Walked from Huntly
Burn, having gone in the carriage. Smoked my cigar with Lockhart after
dinner, and then whiled away the evening over one of Miss Austen's
novels. There is a truth of painting in her writings which always
delights me. They do not, it is true, get above the middle classes of
society, but there she is inimitable.

_September_ 19.--Wrote three pages, but dawdled a good deal; yet the
_Tales_ get on, although I feel bilious, and vapourish, I believe I must
call it. At such times my loneliness, and the increasing inability to
walk, come dark over me, but surely these mulligrubs belong to the mind
more than the body.

_September_ 22.--Captain and Colonel Ferguson, the last returned from
Ireland, dined here. Prayer of the minister of the Cumbrays, two
miserable islands in the mouth of the Clyde: "O Lord, bless and be
gracious to the Greater and the Lesser Cumbrays, and in thy mercy do not
forget the adjacent islands of Great Britain and Ireland."

_September_ 23.--Worked in the morning; then drove over to Huntly Burn,
chiefly to get from the good-humoured Colonel the accurate spelling of
certain Hindu words which I have been using under his instructions. By
the way, the sketches he gave me of Indian manners are highly
picturesque. I have made up my Journal, which was three days in arrear.
Also I wrought a little, so that the second volume of _Grandfather's
Tales_ is nearly half finished.

_September_ 24.--Worked in the morning as usual, and sent off the
proofs and copy. Something of the black dog still hanging about me; but
I will shake him off. I generally affect good spirits in company of my
family, whether I am enjoying them or not. It is too severe to sadden
the harmless mirth of others by suffering your own causeless melancholy
to be seen; and this species of exertion is, like virtue, its own
reward; for the good spirits, which are at first simulated, become at
length real.[42]

_September 25, [Edinburgh]_,--Got into town by one o'clock, the purpose
being to give my deposition before Lord Newton in a case betwixt me and
Constable's creditors. My oath seemed satisfactory; but new reasons were
alleged for additional discussion, which is, I trust, to end this
wearisome matter. I dined with Mr. Gibson, and slept there. J.B. dined
with us, and we had thoughts how to save our copyright by a bargain with
Cadell. I hope it will turn to good, as I could add notes to a future
edition, and give them some value.

_September 26, [Abbotsford]_.--Set off in mail coach, and my horses met
me at Yair Bridge. I travelled with rather a pleasant man, an agent, I
found, on Lord Seaford's[43] West Indian Estates. Got home by twelve
o'clock, and might have been here earlier if the Tweed had not been too
large for fording. I must note down my cash lest it gets out of my head;
"may the foul fa' the gear, and the blathrie o't,"[44] and yet there's
no doing either with it or without it.

_September_ 27.--The morning was damp, dripping, and unpleasant; so I
even made a work of necessity, and set to the _Tales_ like a dragon. I
murdered M'Lellan of Bomby at Thrieve Castle; stabbed the Black Douglas
in the town of Stirling; astonished King James before Roxburgh; and
stifled the Earl of Mar in his bath in the Canongate. A wild world, my
masters, this Scotland of ours must have been. No fear of want of
interest; no lassitude in those days for want of work,

    "For treason, d' ye see,
    Was to them a dish of tea,
        And murther bread and butter."

We dined at Gattonside with Mr. Bainbridge, who kindly presented me with
six bottles of super-excellent Jamaica rum, and with a manuscript
collection of poetry, said to be Swift's handwriting, which it
resembles. It is, I think, poor Stella's. Nothing very new in it.

_September_ 28.--Another dropping and busy day. I wrought hard at the
_Historical Tales_, which get on fast.


_September_ 29.--I went on with the little history which now (_i.e._
vol. ii.) doth appropinque an end. Received in the evening [Nos. 37 to
41?] of the Roxburghe publications. They are very curious, and,
generally speaking, well selected. The following struck me:--An Italian
poem on the subject of Floddenfield; the legend of St. Robert of
Knaresborough; two plays, printed from MS. by Mr. Haslewood. It does not
appear that Mr. H. fully appreciated the light which he was throwing on
the theatrical history by this valuable communication. It appears that
the change of place, or of scene as we term it, was intimated in the
following manner.

In the middle of the stage was placed Colchester, and the sign of
Pigot's tavern--called the Tarlton--intimated what part of the town was
represented. The name was painted above. On one side of the stage was,
in like manner, painted a town, which the name announced to be Maldon;
on the other side a ranger's lodge. The scene lay through the piece in
one or other of these three places, and the entrance of the characters
determined where each scene lay. If they came in from Colchester, then
Colchester was for the time the scene of action. When that scene was
shifted to Maldon, it was intimated by the approach of the actors from
the side where it was painted--a clumsy contrivance, doubtless, compared
to changeable scenery; yet sufficient to impress the audience with a
sense of what was meant.

_September_ 30.--Wet, drizzling, dismal day. I finished odds and ends,
scarce stirring out of my room, yet doing little to the purpose. Wrote
to Sir Henry [Seton Steuart] about his queries concerning transplanted
trees, and to Mr. Freeling concerning the Roxburghe Club books. I have
settled to print the manuscript concerning the murder of the two Shaws
by the Master of Sinclair. I dallied with the precious time rather than
used it. Read the two Roxburghe plays; they are by William Percy, a son
of the eighth Earl of Northumberland; worthless and very gross, but
abounding with matter concerning scenery, and so forth, highly
interesting to the dramatic antiquary.

     NOTE _on the "grenadier accomplishment" mentioned in_ p. 30.

     In a letter to the Duke of Buccleuch, of May 1818, Scott gives the
     following amusing account of an incident in the life of the Ettrick
     Shepherd:--

     "Our poor friend Hogg has had an _affair of honour_.... Two
     mornings ago, about seven in the morning, my servant announced,
     while I was shaving in my dressing-room, that Mr. Hogg wished
     earnestly to speak with me. He was ushered in, and I cannot
     describe the half-startled, half-humorous air with which he said,
     scratching his head most vehemently, 'Odd, Scott, here's twae
     fo'k's come frae Glasgow to provoke mey to fecht a duel.' 'A duel,'
     answered I, in great astonishment, 'and what do you intend to do?'
     'Odd, I just locket them up in my room and sent the lassie for twae
     o' the police, and just gie'd the men ower to their chairge, and I
     thocht I wad come and ask you what I should do....' He had already
     settled for himself the question whether he was to fight or not,
     and all that he had to do was to go to the Police Office and tell
     the charge he had to bring against the two Glasgow gentlemen....
     The Glaswegians were greatly too many for him [in Court].... They
     returned in all triumph and glory, and Hogg took the wings of the
     morning and fled to his cottage at Altrive, not deeming himself
     altogether safe in the streets of Edinburgh! Now, although I do not
     hold valour to be an essential article in the composition of a man
     like Hogg, yet I heartily wish he could have prevailed on himself
     to swagger a little.... But considering his failure in the field
     and the Sheriff Office, I am afraid we must apply to Hogg the
     apology which is made for Waller by his biographer: 'Let us not
     condemn him with untempered severity because he was not such a
     prodigy as the world has seldom seen--because his character
     included not the poet, the orator, and the hero.'"

FOOTNOTES:

[32] James Byers, 1733-1817.

[33] Anne Scott of Harden, afterwards wife of Lord Jerviswoode, and
Elizabeth of Colonel Charles Wyndham.

[34] James Hope, W.S., Scott's school-fellow, died in Edinburgh 14th
November 1842.

[35] _Greville_, vol. i. pp. 110-113.

[36] Sir W. Rae, who was Lord Advocate from 1819 to 1830.

[37] See letter to Duke of Buccleuch on James Hogg at p. 40.

[38] No. 10 Walker Street.

[39] Scott's unwearied interest in James Hogg, despite the waywardness
of this imaginative genius, is one of the most beautiful traits in his
character. Readers of Mr. Lockhart's _Life_, do not require to be
reminded of the active part he took in promoting the welfare of the
"Ettrick Shepherd" on many occasions, from the outset of their
acquaintance in 1801 until the end of his life.

Hogg was a strange compound of boisterous roughness and refinement in
expression, and these odd contrasts surprised strangers such as Moore
and Ticknor. The former was shocked, and the latter said his
conversation was a perpetual contradiction to the exquisite delicacy of
_Kilmeny_.

The critics of the day, headed by Professor Wilson, declared he was
Burns's rival as a song-writer, and his superior in anything relating to
external nature! indeed they wrote of him as unsurpassed by poet or
painter in his fairy tales of ancient time, dubbing him Poet Laureate to
the Queen of Elfland; and yet his unrefined manner tempted these friends
to speak of him familiarly as the greatest hog in all Apollo's herd, or
the Boar of the Forest, etc. etc.

Wordsworth, however, on November 21, 1835, when his brother bard had
just left the sunshine for the sunless land, wrote from his heart the
noble lines ending--

"Death upon the Braes of Yarrow Closed the Poet Shepherd's eyes."



[40] Another, sister Georgiana, married General the Honourable Sir
Alexander Hope, G.C.B., grandfather of Mrs. Maxwell Scott.

[41] _Chronicles of the Canongate_. First Series, ending with the story
of _The Surgeon's Daughter_.

[42] Mr. Lockhart justly remarks that this entry "paints the man in his
tenderness, his fortitude, and happy wisdom."

[43] Charles Rose Ellis had been created Baron Seaford in 1826.

[44] See Cromek's _Reliques of Burns_, p. 210.




OCTOBER.


_October_ 1.--I set about work for two hours, and finished three pages;
then walked for two hours; then home, adjusted sheriff processes, and
cleared the table. I am to set off to-morrow for Ravensworth Castle, to
meet the Duke of Wellington;[45] a great let off, I suppose. Yet I would
almost rather stay and see two days more of Lockhart and my daughter,
who will be off before my return. Perhaps. But there is no end to
perhaps. We must cut the rope and let the vessel drive down the tide of
destiny.

_October_ 2.--Set out in the morning at seven, and reached Kelso by a
little past ten with my own horses. Then took the Wellington coach to
carry me to Wellington--smart that. Nobody inside but an old lady, who
proved a toy-woman in Edinburgh; her head furnished with as substantial
ware as her shop, but a good soul, I'se warrant her. Heard all her
debates with her landlord about a new door to the cellar, etc. etc.;
propriety of paying rent on the 15th or 25th of May. Landlords and
tenants have different opinions on that subject. Danger of dirty sheets
in inns. We dined at Wooler, and I found out Dr. Douglas on the outside,
son of my old acquaintance Dr. James Douglas of Kelso. This made us even
lighter in mind till we came to Whittingham. Thence to Newcastle, where
an obstreperous horse retarded us for an hour at least, to the great
alarm of my friend the toy-woman. _N.B._--She would have made a good
feather-bed if the carriage had happened to fall, and her undermost. The
heavy roads had retarded us near an hour more, so that I hesitated to go
to Ravensworth so late; but my good woman's tales of dirty sheets, and
certain recollections of a Newcastle inn, induced me to go on. When I
arrived the family had just retired. Lord Ravensworth and Mr. Liddell
came down, however, and really received me as kindly as possible.

_October_ 3.--Rose about eight or later. My morals begin to be corrupted
by travelling and fine company. Went to Durham with Lord Ravensworth
betwixt one and two. Found the gentlemen of Durham county and town
assembled to receive the Duke of Wellington. I saw several old friends,
and with difficulty suited names to faces, and faces to names. There was
Headlam, Dr. Gilly and his wife, and a world of acquaintance besides,
Sir Thomas Lawrence too, with Lord Londonderry. I asked him to come on
with me, but he could not. He is, from habit of coaxing his subjects I
suppose, a little too fair-spoken, otherwise very pleasant. The Duke
arrived very late. There were bells and cannon and drums, trumpets and
banners, besides a fine troop of yeomanry. The address was well
expressed, and as well answered by the Duke. The enthusiasm of the
ladies and the gentry was great--the common people were lukewarm[46].
The Duke has lost popularity in accepting political power. He will be
more useful to his country it may be than ever, but will scarce be so
gracious in the people's eyes; and he will not care a curse for what
outward show he has lost. But I must not talk of curses, for we are
going to take our dinner with the Bishop of Durham[47], a man of amiable
and courteous manners, who becomes his station well, but has traces of
bad health on his countenance.

We dined, about one hundred and forty or fifty men, a distinguished
company for rank and property. Marshal Beresford, and Sir John[48],
amongst others, Marquis of Lothian, Lord Duncombe, Marquis Londonderry,
and I know not who besides:

    "Lords and Dukes and noble Princes,
    All the pride and flower of Spain."

We dined in the rude old baronial hall, impressive from its antiquity,
and fortunately free from the plaster of former improvement, as I trust
it will, from the gingerbread taste of modern Gothicisers. The bright
moon streaming in through the old Gothic windows, made a light which
contrasted strangely with the artificial lights within; spears, banners,
and armour were intermixed with the pictures of old, and the whole had a
singular mixture of baronial pomp with the graver and more chastened
dignity of prelacy. The conduct of our reverend entertainer suited the
character remarkably well. Amid the welcome of a Count Palatine he did
not for an instant forget the gravity of the Church dignitary. All his
toasts were gracefully given, and his little speeches well made, and the
more affecting that the failing voice sometimes reminded us that our
aged host laboured under the infirmities of advanced life. To me
personally the Bishop was very civil, and paid me his public
compliments by proposing my health in the most gratifying manner.[49]

The Bishop's lady received a sort of drawing-room after we rose from
table, at which a great many ladies attended. I ought not to forget that
the singers of the choir attended at dinner, and sung the Anthem _Non
nobis Domine_, as they said who understood them, very well--and, as I
think, who did not understand the music, with an unusual degree of
spirit and interest. It is odd how this can be distinguished from the
notes of fellows who use their throats with as little feeling of the
notes they utter as if they were composed of the same metal as their
bugle-horns.

After the drawing-room we went to the Assembly-rooms, which were crowded
with company. I saw some very pretty girls dancing merrily that
old-fashioned thing called a country-dance which Old England has now
thrown aside, as she would do her creed, if there were some foreign
frippery offered instead. We got away after midnight, a large party, and
reached Ravensworth Castle--Duke of Wellington, Lord Londonderry, and
about twenty besides--about half-past one. Soda water, and to bed by
two.

_October_ 4.--Slept till nigh ten--fatigued by our toils of yesterday,
and the unwonted late hours. Still too early for this Castle of
Indolence, for I found few of last night's party yet appearing. I had an
opportunity of some talk with the Duke. He does not consider Foy's
book[50] as written by himself, but as a thing _got up_ perhaps from
notes. Says he knew Foy very well in Spain. Mentioned that he was, like
other French officers, very desirous of seeing the English papers,
through which alone they could collect any idea of what was going on
without their own cantonments, for Napoleon permitted no communication
of that kind with France. The Duke, growing tired of this, at length
told Baron Tripp, whose services he chiefly used in communication with
the outposts, that he was not to give them the newspapers. "What reason
shall I allege for withholding them?" said Baron Tripp. "None," replied
the Duke. "Let them allege some reason why they want them." Foy was not
at a loss to assign a reason. He said he had considerable sums of money
in the English funds and wanted to see how Stocks fell and rose. The
excuse did not, however, go down[51]. I remember Baron Tripp, a Dutch
nobleman, and a dandy of the first water, and yet with an energy in his
dandyism which made it respectable. He drove a gig as far as Dunrobin
Castle, and back again, _without a whip_. He looked after his own horse,
for he had no servant, and after all his little establishment of clothes
and necessaries, with all the accuracy of a _petit-maître_. He was one
of the best-dressed men, and his horse was in equally fine condition as
if he had had a dozen of grooms. I met him at Lord Somerville's, and
liked him much. But there was something exaggerated, as appeared from
the conclusion of his life. Baron Tripp shot himself in Italy for no
assignable cause.

What is called great society, of which I have seen a good deal in my
day, is now amusing to me, because from age and indifference I have lost
the habit of considering myself as a part of it, and have only the
feelings of looking on as a spectator of the scene, who can neither play
his part well nor ill, instead of being one of the _dramatis personæ_;
and, careless what is thought of myself, I have full time to attend to
the motions of others.

Our party went to-day to Sunderland, where the Duke was brilliantly
received by an immense population, chiefly of seamen. The difficulty of
getting into the rooms was dreadful, for we chanced to march in the rear
of an immense Gibraltar gun, etc., all composed of glass, which is here
manufactured in great quantities. The disturbance created by this thing,
which by the way I never saw afterwards, occasioned an ebbing and
flowing of the crowd, which nearly took me off my legs. I have seen the
day I would have minded it little. The entertainment was handsome; about
two hundred dined, and appeared most hearty in the cause which had
convened them--some indeed so much so, that, finding themselves so far
on the way to perfect happiness, they e'en ... After the dinner-party
broke up there was a ball, numerously attended, where there was a
prodigious anxiety discovered for shaking of hands. The Duke had enough
of it, and I came in for my share; for, though as jackal to the lion, I
got some part in whatever was going. We got home about half-past two in
the morning, sufficiently tired. The Duke went to Seaham, a house of
Lord Londonderry's. After all, this Sunderland trip might have been
spared..

_October 5_.--A quiet day at Ravensworth Castle, giggling and making
giggle among the kind and frank-hearted young people. Ravensworth Castle
is chiefly modern, excepting always two towers of great antiquity. Lord
Ravensworth manages his woods admirably well, and with good taste. His
castle is but half-built. Elections[52] have come between. In the
evening, plenty of fine music, with heart as well as voice and
instrument. Much of the music was the spontaneous effusions of Mrs.
Arkwright, who had set Hohenlinden and other pieces of poetry. Her music
was of a highly-gifted character. She was the daughter of Stephen
Kemble. The genius she must have inherited from her mother, who was a
capital actress. The Miss Liddells and Mrs. Barrington sang the "The
Campbells are coming," in a tone that might have waked the dead.

_October_ 6.--Left Ravensworth this morning, and travelled as far as
Whittingham with Marquis of Lothian. Arrived at Alnwick to dinner, where
I was very kindly received. The Duke is a handsome man,[53] who will be
corpulent if he does not continue to take hard exercise. The Duchess
very pretty and lively, but her liveliness is of that kind which shows
at once it is connected with thorough principle, and is not liable to be
influenced by fashionable caprice. The habits of the family are early
and regular; I conceive they may be termed formal and old-fashioned by
such visitors as claim to be the pink of the mode. The Castle is a fine
old pile, with various courts and towers, and the entrance is
magnificent. It wants, however, the splendid feature of a keep. The
inside fitting up is an attempt at Gothic, but the taste is meagre and
poor, and done over with too much gilding. It was done half a century
ago, when this kind of taste was ill-understood. I found here the Bishop
of [Gloucester], etc. etc.

_October 7_.--This morning went to church and heard an excellent sermon
from the Bishop of Gloucester;[54] he has great dignity of manner, and
his accent and delivery were forcible. Drove out with the Duke in a
phaeton, and saw part of the park, which is a fine one, lying along the
Alne. But it has been ill-planted. It was laid out by the celebrated
Brown,[55] who substituted clumps of birch and Scottish firs for the
beautiful oaks and copse which grows nowhere so freely as in
Northumberland. To complete this, the late Duke did not thin, so the
wood is in poor state. All that the Duke cuts down is so much waste, for
the people will not buy it where coals are so cheap. Had they been
oak-wood, the bark would have fetched its value; had they been grown
oaks, the sea-ports would have found a market. Had they been [larch],
the country demands for ruder purposes would have been unanswerable. The
Duke does the best he can to retrieve his woods, but seems to despond
more than a young man ought to do. It is refreshing to see a man in his
situation give so much of his time and thoughts to the improvement of
his estates, and the welfare of the people. The Duke tells me his people
in Keeldar were all quite wild the first time his father went up to
shoot there. The women had no other dress than a bed-gown and petticoat.
The men were savage and could hardly be brought to rise from the heath,
either from sullenness or fear. They sung a wild tune, the burden of
which was Ourina, ourina, ourina. The females sung, the men danced
round, and at a certain part of the tune they drew their dirks, which
they always wore.

We came by the remains of the old Carmelite Monastery of Hulne, which is
a very fine object in the park. It was finished by De Vesci. The gateway
of Alnwick Abbey, also a fine specimen, is standing about a mile
distant. The trees are much finer on the left side of the Alne, where
they have been let alone by the capability-villain. Visited the enceinte
of the Castle, and passed into the dungeon. There is also an armoury,
but damp, and the arms in indifferent order. One odd petard-looking
thing struck me.--_Mem_. to consult Grose. I had the honour to sit in
Hotspur's seat, and to see the Bloody Gap, where the external wall must
have been breached. The Duchess gave me a book of etchings of the
antiquities of Alnwick and Warkworth from her own drawings.[56] I had
half a mind to stay to see Warkworth, but Anne is alone. We had prayers
in the evening read by the Archdeacon.[57]

The Marquis of Lothian on Saturday last told me a remarkable thing,
which he had from good authority. Just before Bonaparte's return from
Elba there was much disunion at the Congress of Vienna. Russia and
Prussia, conscious of their own merits, made great demands, to which
Austria, France, and Britain, were not disposed to accede. This went so
far that war became probable, and the very Prussian army which was so
useful at Waterloo was held in readiness to attack the English. On the
other hand, England, Austria, and France entered into a private
agreement to resist, beyond a certain extent, Prussia's demands of a
barrier on the Rhine, etc., and, what is most singular of all, it was
from Bonaparte that the Emperor Alexander first heard of this triple
alliance.[58] But the circumstance of finding Napoleon interesting
himself so far in the affairs of Europe alarmed the Emperor more than
the news he sent him. On the same authority, Gneisenau and most of
Blücher's personal suite remained behind a house at the battle of Ligny,
and sent out an officer from time to time, but did not remain even in
sight of the battle, till Blücher put himself at the head of the cavalry
with the zeal of an old hussar.

_October_ 8.--Left Alnwick, where I have experienced a very kind
reception, and took coach at Whittingham at eleven o'clock. I find there
is a new road to be made between Alnwick and Wooler, which will make the
communication much easier, and avoid Remside Moor.

Saw some fine young plantations about Whittingham suffering from
neglect, which is not the case under the Duke's own eye. He has made
two neat cottages at Percy's Cross, to preserve that ancient monument of
the fatal battle of Hedgeley Moor. The stones marking the adjacent spot
called Percy's Leap are thirty-three feet asunder. To show the
uncertainty of human testimony, I measured the distance (many years
since, it is true), and would have said and almost sworn that it was but
eighteen feet. Dined at Wooler, and reached home about seven o'clock,
having left Alnwick at half-past nine. So it would be easy to go there
to dinner from Abbotsford, starting at six in the morning, or seven
would do very well.

_October 9, [Abbotsford]_.--No proofs here, which I think odd of Jas. B.
But I am not sorry to have a day to write letters, and besides I have a
box of books to arrange. It is a bad mizzling day, and might have been a
good day for work, yet it is not quite uselessly spent.

_October_ 10.--Breakfasted at Huntly Burn with the merry knight, Sir
Adam Ferguson. When we returned we found a whole parcel of proofs which
had been forgot yesterday at the toll--so here ends play and begins
work. Dr. Brewster and Mr. Thornhill. The latter gave me a box, made of
the real mulberry-tree.[59] Very kind of him.

_October_ 11.--Being a base melancholy weeping day I e'en made the best
of it, and set in for work. Wrote ten leaves this day, equivalent to
forty pages. But then the theme was so familiar, being Scottish history,
that my pen never rested. It is more than a triple task.

_October_ 12.--Sent off proofs and copy, a full task of three pages. At
one Anne drove me to Huntly Burn, and I examined the earthen fence
intended for the new planting, and altered the line in some points. This
employed me till near four, the time of my walking home being included.

_October_ 13.--Wrote in the forenoon. Lord Bessborough and Mr. and Mrs.
Ponsonby called to see the place. His lady used to be civil to me in
London--an accomplished and pleasing woman. They only stayed an hour. At
dinner we had Lord and Lady Bathurst, and my friend Lady Georgiana--also
Marquis of Lothian and Lord Castlereagh, plenty of fine folks. Expected
also the Lord Register and Mrs. Dundas, but they could not come. Lord
Bathurst told me that Gourgaud had negotiated with the French Government
to the last moment of his leaving London, and that he had been told so
by the French Ambassador. Lord B. refused to see him, because he
understood he talked disrespectfully of Napoleon.

_October_ 14.--I read prayers to the company of yesterday, and we took a
drive round by Drygrange Bridge. Lord B. told me that the late king made
it at one time a point of conscience to read every word of every act of
parliament before giving his assent to it. There was a mixture of
principle and nonsense in this. Lord Lothian left us. I did a full task
to-day, which is much, considering I was a good deal occupied.

_October_ 15.--My noble guests departed, pleased I believe with their
visit. I have had to thank Lord Bathurst for former kindness. I respect
him too, as one who being far from rich, has on the late occasion
preferred political consistency to a love of office and its emoluments.
He seems to expect no opposition of a formal kind this next session.
What is wonderful, no young man of talents seems to spring up in the
House of Commons. I wonder what comes of all the clever lads whom we see
at college. The fruit apparently does not ripen as formerly. Lord
Castlereagh remained with us. I bestowed a little advice on him. He is a
warm-hearted young fellow, with some of the fashionable affectations of
the age about him, but with good feelings and an inclination to come
forward.

_October_ 16.--With all this racketing the work advances fast. The third
volume of the _Tales_ is now half finished, and will, I think, be a
useful work. Some drizzling days have been of great use to its progress.
This visiting has made some dawdling, but not much, perhaps not more
than there ought to be for such a task.

I walked from Huntly Burn up the little Glen, which was in all the
melancholy beauty of autumn, the little brook brawling and bickering in
fine style over its falls and currents.

_October_ 17.--Drove down to Mertoun and brought up Elizabeth Scott to
be our guest for some days or so. Various chance guests arrived. One of
the most welcome was Captain MacKenzie of the Celtic Society and the 72d
regiment, a picture of a Highlander in his gigantic person and innocent
and generous disposition. Poor fellow, he is going to retreat to
Brittany, to make his half-pay support a wife and family. I did not dare
to ask how many. God send I may have the means of serving him.

He told me a Maclean story which was new to me. At the battle of
Sheriffmuir that clan was commanded by a chief called Hector. In the
action, as the chief rushed forward, he was frequently in situations of
peril. His foster-father followed him with seven sons, whom he reserved
as a body-guard, whom he threw forward into the battle as he saw his
chief pressed. The signal he gave was, "Another for Hector!" The youths
replied, "Death for Hector!" and were all successively killed. These
words make the sign and countersign at this day of the clan Gillian.[60]

Young Shortreed dined with us and the two Fergusons, Sir Adam and the
Colonel. We had a pleasant evening.

_October_ 19.--Wrought out my task, and better--as I have done for these
several days past. Lady Anna Maria Elliot arrived unexpectedly to
dinner, and though she had a headache, brought her usual wit and
good-humour to enliven us.

_October_ 20.--The day being basely muggy, I had no walk, which I was
rather desirous to secure. I wrought, however; and two-thirds of the
last volume of _Tales of my Grandfather_ are finished. I received a
large packet of proofs, etc., which for some reason had been delayed. We
had two of Dr. Brewster's boys to dinner--fine children; they are
spirited, promising, and very well-behaved.

_October_ 21.--Wrought till one o'clock, then walked out for two hours,
though with little comfort, the bushes being loaded with rain; but
exercise is very necessary to me, and I have no mind to die of my
arm-chair. A letter from Skene, acquainting me that the Censors of the
French press have prohibited the insertion of my answer to the man
Gourgaud. This is their freedom of the press! The fact is there is an
awkward "composition" between the Government and the people of France,
that the latter will endure the former so long as they will allow them
to lull themselves asleep with recollections of their past glory, and
neither the one nor the other sees that truth and honesty and freedom of
discussion are the best policy. He knows, though, there _is_ an answer;
and that is all I care about.

_October_ 22.--Another vile damp drizzling day. I do not know any
morning in my life so fit for work, on which I nevertheless, while
desirous of employing it to purpose, make less progress. A hang-dog
drowsy feeling wrought against me, and I was obliged to lay down the pen
and indulge myself in a drumly sleep.