The Haigs of Bemerside, Captain Hamilton, Mr. Bainbridge and daughter,
with young Nicol Milne and the Fergusons, dined here. Miss Haig sings
Italian music better than any person I ever heard out of the
Opera-house. But I am neither a judge nor admirer of the science. I do
not know exactly what is aimed at, and therefore cannot tell what is
attained. Had a letter from Colin Mackenzie, who has proposed himself
for the little situation in the Register House. I have written, him,
begging him to use the best interest in his own behalf, and never mind
me.

_October_ 23.--Another sullen rainy day. "Hazy weather, Mr. Noah," as
Punch says in the puppet-show.[61] I worked slow, however, and
untowardly, and fell one leaf short of my task.

Went to Selkirk, and dined with the forest Club, for the first time I
have been there this season. It was the collar-day, but being extremely
rainy, I did not go to see them course. _N.B._--Of all things, the
greatest bore is to hear a dull and bashful man sing a facetious song.

_October_ 24.--Vilely low in spirits. I have written a page and a half,
and doubt whether I can write more to-day. A thick throbbing at my
heart, and fancies thronging on me. A disposition to sleep, or to think
on things melancholy and horrible while I wake. Strange that one's
nerves should thus master them, for nervous the case is, as I know too
well. I am beginning to tire of my Journal, and no wonder, faith, if I
have only such trash as this to record. But the best is, a little
exertion or a change of the current of thought relieves me.

God, who subjects us to these strange maladies, whether of mind or body
I cannot say, has placed the power within our own reach, and we should
be grateful. I wrestled myself so far out of the Slough of Despond as to
take a good long walk, and my mind is restored to its elasticity. I did
not attempt to work, especially as we were going down to Mertoun, and
set off at five o'clock.

_October_ 25.--We arrived at Mertoun yesterday, and heard with some
surprise that George had gone up in an air balloon, and ascended two
miles and a half above this sublunary earth. I should like to have an
account of his sensations, but his letters said nothing serious about
them. Honest George, I certainly did not suspect him of being so
flighty! I visited the new plantations on the river-side with Mrs.
Scott; I wish her lord and master had some of her taste for planting.
When I came home I walked through the Rhymer's Glen, and I thought how
the little fall would look if it were heightened. When I came home a
surprise amounting nearly to a shock reached me in another letter from
L.J.S.[62] Methinks this explains the gloom which hung about me
yesterday. I own that the recurrence to these matters seems like a
summons from the grave. It fascinates me. I ought perhaps to have
stopped it at once, but I have not nerve to do so. Alas! alas!--But why
alas? _Humana perpessi sumus_.

_October 26._--Sent off copy to Ballantyne. Drove over to Huntly Burn at
breakfast, and walked up to the dike they are building for the new
plantation. Returned home. The Fergusons dined; and we had the kirn
Supper.[63] I never saw a set of finer lads and lasses, and blithely did
they ply their heels till five in the morning. It did me good to see
them, poor things.

_October 27._--This morning went again to Huntly Burn to breakfast.
There picked up Sir Adam and the Colonel, and drove down to old Melrose
to see the hounds cast off upon the Gateheugh, the high rocky
amphitheatre which encloses the peninsula of old Melrose, the Tweed
pouring its dark and powerful current between them. The galloping of the
riders and hallooing of the huntsmen, the cry of the hounds and the
sight of sly Reynard stealing away through the brakes, waked something
of the old spirit within me--

    "Even in our ashes glow their wonted fires."

On return home I had despatches of consequence. John Gibson writes that
Lord Newton has decided most of the grand questions in our favour. Good,
that! Rev. Mr. Turner writes that he is desirous, by Lord Londonderry's
consent, to place in my hands a quantity of original papers concerning
the public services of the late Lord Londonderry, with a view to drawing
up a memoir of his life. Now this task they desire to transfer to me. It
is highly complimentary; and there is this of temptation in it, that I
should be able to do justice to that ill-requited statesman in those
material points which demand the eternal gratitude of his country. But
then for me to take this matter up would lead me too much into the
hackneyed politics of the House of Commons, which _odi et arceo_.
Besides, I would have to study the Irish question, and I detest study.
_Item_.--I might arrive at conclusions different from those of my Lord
of Londonderry, and I have a taste for expressing that which I think.
Fourthly, I think it is sinking myself into a party writer. Moreover, I
should not know what to say to the disputes with Canning; and, to
conclude, I think my Lord Londonderry, if he desired such a thing at my
hands, ought to have written to me. For all which reasons, good, bad,
and indifferent, I will write declining the undertaking.

_October_ 28.--Wrote several letters, and one to Mr. Turner, declining
the task of Lord Castlereagh's Memoirs,[64] with due acknowledgments.
Had his public and European politics alone been concerned, I would have
tried the task with pleasure. I wrote out my task and something more,
corrected proofs, and made a handsome remittance of copy to the press.

_October 31._--Just as I was merrily cutting away among my trees,
arrives Mr. Gibson with a melancholy look, and indeed the news he
brought was shocking enough. It seems Mr. Abud, the same Jew broker who
formerly was disposed to disturb me in London, has given the most
positive orders to take out diligence against me for his debt of £1500.
This breaks all the measures we had resolved on, and prevents the
dividend from taking place, by which many poor persons will be great
sufferers. For me the alternative will be more painful to my feelings
than prejudicial to my interest. To take out a sequestration and allow
the persons to take what they can get will be the inevitable
consequence. This will cut short my labour by several years, which I
might spend and spend in vain in labouring to meet their demands. No
doubt they may in the interim sell the liferent of this place, with the
books and furniture. But, perhaps, it may be possible to achieve some
composition which may save these articles, as I would make many
sacrifices for that purpose. Gibson strongly advises taking a
sequestration at all events. But if the creditors choose to let Mr. Abud
have his pound of flesh out of the first cut, my mind will not be
satisfied with the plan of deranging, for the pleasure of disappointing
him, a plan of payment to which all the others had consented. We will
know more on Saturday, and not sooner. I went to Bowhill with Sir Adam
Ferguson to dinner, and maintained as good a countenance in the midst of
my perplexities as a man need desire. It is not bravado; I literally
feel myself firm and resolute.

FOOTNOTES:

[45] "The Duke was then making a progress in the North of England, to
which additional importance was given by the uncertain state of
political arrangements; the chance of Lord Goderich's being able to
maintain himself as Canning's successor seeming very precarious, and the
opinion that his Grace must soon be called to a higher station than that
of Commander of the Forces, which he had accepted under the new Premier,
gaining ground every day. Sir Walter, who felt for the great Captain the
pure and exalted devotion that might have been expected from some
honoured soldier of his banners, accepted this invitation, and witnessed
a scene of enthusiasm with which its principal object could hardly have
been more gratified than he was."--_Life_, vol. ix. pp. 156-7.

[46] See _Correspondence of Princess Lieven and Earl Grey_ for Lord
Grey's opinion, vol. i. p. 60.

[47] Dr. William Van Mildert had been appointed to the See of Durham in
1826 on the death of Dr. Shute Barrington. He died in 1836.

[48] Admiral Sir John Beresford had some few years before this commanded
on the Leith Station--when Sir Walter and he saw a great deal of each
other--"and merry men were they."--J.G.L.

[49] An eye-witness writes:--"The manner in which Bishop Van Mildert
proceeded on this occasion will never be forgotten by those who know how
to appreciate scholarship without pedantry, and dignity without
ostentation. Sir Walter had been observed throughout the day with
extraordinary interest--I should say enthusiasm. The Bishop gave his
health with peculiar felicity, remarking that he could reflect upon the
labours of a long literary life, with the consciousness that everything
he had written tended to the practice of virtue, and to the improvement
of the human race."--Hon. Henry Liddell. _Life_, vol. ix. p. 160.

[50] _Histoire de la guerre de la Péninsule sous Napoléon_, etc. Publiée
par Madame la Comtesse Foy. Paris, 4 vols. 8vo, 1827. See _Croker_, vol.
i. p. 352.

[51] This story is told also in Lord Stanhope's _Conversations with the
Duke of Wellington_. 8vo, London, 1888, p. 54.

[52] The present generation are apt to forget the enormous sums spent in
Parliamentary elections; _e.g._, Mme. de Lieven tells Earl Grey (_Cor._
ii. p. 215) that Lord Ravensworth's neighbour, the Duke of
Northumberland, will subscribe £100,000 towards the election of 1831.

[53] Hugh, third Duke of Northumberland.

[54] Dr. Bethell, who had been tutor to the Duke of Northumberland, held
at this time the See of Gloucester.--J.G.L.

[55] Launcelot Brown, 1715-1782.

[56] A quarto volume, containing 39 etchings (privately printed in
1823), still preserved at Abbotsford.

[57] Mr. Archdeacon Singleton.--J.G.L.

[58] Stanhope's _Notes_, p. 24; and _Croker_, vol. ii. p. 233.

[59] From Stratford-on-Avon.

[60] For the utilisation of this story, see _Fair Maid of Perth_,
published in the following year.

[61] See M.G. Lewis's _Journal of a West Indian Proprietor_. 8vo, Lond.,
1834, p. 47; and Introduction to _Fair Maid of Perth_, p. 16.

[62] On the 13th of October Sir Walter had received a letter from "one
who had in former happy days been no stranger," and on turning to the
signature he found to his astonishment that it was from Lady Jane
Stuart, with whom he had had no communication since the memorable visit
he had made to Invermay in the autumn of 1796. The letter was simply a
formal request on behalf of a friend for permission to print some
ballads in Scott's handwriting which were in an album that had
apparently belonged to her daughter, yet it stirred his nature to its
depths. The substance of his reply may be gathered from the second
letter, which he had just read before making this sad entry in his
Journal.--Lady Jane tells him that she would convey to him the
Manuscript Book

    --,"as a _secret_ and _sacred_ Treasure, could I but know that you
    would take it as I give it without a drawback or misconstruction of
    my intentions;"

and she adds--

    "Were I to lay open my heart (of which you know little indeed) you
    would find how it has and ever shall be warm towards you. My age
    [she was then seventy-four] encourages me, and I have longed to tell
    you. Not the mother who bore you followed you more anxiously (though
    secretly) with her blessing than I! Age has tales to tell and
    sorrows to unfold."

As is seen by his Journal Sir Walter resumed his personal intercourse
with his venerable friend on November 6th and continued it until her
death, which took place in the winter of 1829.--_Ante_, vol. i. p. 404,
and _Life_, vol. i. pp. 329-336.

[63] Kirn, the feast at the end of the harvest in Scotland.

[64] The correspondence of Robert, second Marquis of Londonderry, was
edited by his brother in 1850, but there was no memoir published until
Alison wrote the _Lives of Lord Castlereagh and Sir Charles Stewart,
Second and Third Marquesses of Londonderry_. 3 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh,
1861.




NOVEMBER


_November_ 1.--I waked in the night and lay two hours in feverish
meditation. This is a tribute to natural feeling. But the air of a fine
frosty morning gave me some elasticity of spirit. It is strange that
about a week ago I was more dispirited for nothing at all than I am now
for perplexities which set at defiance my conjectures concerning their
issue. I suppose that I, the Chronicler of the Canongate, will have to
take up my residence in the Sanctuary[65] for a week or so, unless I
prefer the more airy residence of the Calton Jail, or a trip to the Isle
of Man. These furnish a pleasing choice of expedients. It is to no
purpose being angry at Ehud or Ahab, or whatever name he delights in. He
is seeking his own, and thinks by these harsh measures to render his
road to it more speedy. And now I will trouble myself no more about the
matter than I can possibly help, which will be quite enough after all.
Perhaps something may turn up better for me than I now look for. Sir
Adam Ferguson left Bowhill this morning for Dumfriesshire. I returned to
Abbotsford to Anne, and told her this unpleasant news. She stood it
remarkably well, poor body.

_November_ 2.--I was a little bilious to-night--no wonder. Had sundry
letters without any power of giving my mind to answer them--one about
Gourgaud with his nonsense. I shall not trouble my head more on that
score. Well, it is a hard knock on the elbow; I knew I had a life of
labour before me, but I was resolved to work steadily; now they have
treated me like a recusant turnspit, and put in a red-hot cinder into
the wheel alongst with [me]. But of what use is philosophy--and I have
always pretended to a little of a practical character--if it cannot
teach us to do or suffer? The day is glorious, yet I have little will to
enjoy it, but sit here ruminating upon the difference and comparative
merits of the Isle of Man and of the Abbey. Small choice betwixt them.
Were a twelvemonth over, I should perhaps smile at what makes me now
very serious.

Smile!--No, that can never be. My present feelings cannot be recollected
with cheerfulness; but I may drop a tear of gratitude. I have finished
my _Tales_[66] and have now nothing literary in hand. It would be an
evil time to begin anything.

_November_ 3.--Slept ill, and lay one hour longer than usual in the
morning. I gained an hour's quiet by it, that is much. I feel a little
shaken at the result of to-day's post. Bad it must be, whatsoever be the
alternative. I am not able to go out, my poor workers wonder that I pass
them without a word. I can imagine no alternative but either retreat to
the Sanctuary or to the Isle of Man. Both shocking enough. But in
Edinburgh I am always near the scene of action, free from uncertainty
and near my poor daughter; so I think I will prefer it, and thus I rest
in unrest. But I will not let this unman me. Our hope, heavenly and
earthly, is poorly anchored, if the cable parts upon the strain. I
believe in God who can change evil into good; and I am confident that
what befalls us is always ultimately for the best. I have a letter from
Mr. Gibson, purporting the opinion of the trustees and committee of
creditors, that I should come to town, and interesting themselves warmly
in the matter. They have intimated that they will pay Mr. Abud a
composition of six shillings per pound on his debt. This is a handsome
offer, but I understand he is determined to have his pound of flesh. If
I can prevent it, he shall not take a shilling by his hard-hearted
conduct.

_November_ 4.--Put my papers in some order, and prepared for my journey.
It is in the style of the Emperors of Abyssinia who proclaim--Cut down
the Kantuffa in the four quarters of the world,--for I know not where I
am going. Yet, were it not for poor Anne's doleful looks, I would feel
firm as a piece of granite. Even the poor dogs seem to fawn on me with
anxious meaning, as if there were something going on they could not
comprehend. They probably notice the packing of the clothes, and other
symptoms of a journey.

Set off at twelve, firmly resolved in body and in mind. Dined at Fushie
Bridge. Ah! good Mrs. Wilson, you know not you are like to lose an old
customer.[67]

But when I arrived in Edinburgh at my faithful friend, Mr. Gibson's,
lo! the scene had again changed, and a new hare is started.[68]

The trustees were clearly of opinion that the matter should be probed to
the very bottom; so Cadell sets off to-morrow in quest of Robinson,
whose haunts he knows. There was much talk concerning what should be
done, how to protect my honour's person, and to postpone commencing a
defence which must make Ahab desperate, before we can ascertain that the
grounds are really tenable. This much I think I can see, that the
trustees will rather pay the debt than break off the trust and go into a
sequestration. They are clearly right for themselves, and I believe for
me also. Whether it is in human possibility that I can clear off these
obligations or not, is very doubtful. But I would rather have it written
on my monument that I died at the desk than live under the recollection
of having neglected it. My conscience is free and happy, and would be so
if I were to be lodged in the Calton Jail. Were I shirking exertion I
should lose heart, under a sense of general contempt, and so die like a
poisoned rat in a hole.

Dined with Gibson and John Home. His wife is a pretty lady-like woman.
Slept there at night.

_November_ 6.--I took possession of No. 6 Shandwick Place, Mrs. Jobson's
house. Mr. Cadell had taken it for me; terms £100 for four months--cheap
enough, as it is a capital house. I offered £5 for immediate entrance,
as I do not like to fly back to Abbotsford. So here we are established,
_i.e._ John Nicolson[69] and I, with good fires and all snug.




I waited on L.J.S.; an affecting meeting.[70]

Sir William Forbes came in before dinner to me, high-spirited noble
fellow as ever, and true to his friend. Agrees with my feelings to a
comma. He thinks Cadell's account must turn up trumps, and is for going
the vole.[71]

_November_ 7.--Began to settle myself this morning, after the hurry of
mind, and even of body, which I have lately undergone. Commenced a
review--that is, an essay, on Ornamental Gardening for the _Quarterly_.
But I stuck fast for want of books. As I did not wish to leave the mind
leisure to recoil on itself, I immediately began the Second Series of
the _Chronicles of Canongate_, the First having been well approved. I
went to make another visit, and fairly softened myself like an old fool,
with recalling old stories till I was fit for nothing but shedding
tears and repeating verses for the whole night. This is sad work. The
very grave gives up its dead, and time rolls back thirty years to add to
my perplexities. I don't care. I begin to grow over-hardened, and, like
a stag turning at bay, my naturally good temper grows fierce and
dangerous. Yet what a romance to tell, and told I fear it will one day
be. And then my three years of dreaming and my two years of wakening
will be chronicled doubtless. But the dead will feel no pain.

_November_ 8.--_Domum mansi, lanam feci_. I may borrow the old
sepulchral motto of the Roman matron. I stayed at home, and began the
third volume of _Chronicles_, or rather the first volume of the Second
Series.[72] This I pursued with little intermission from morning till
night, yet only finished nine pages. Like the machinery of a
steam-engine, the imagination does not work freely when first set upon a
new task.

_November_ 9.--Finished my task after breakfast, at least before twelve.
Then went to College to hear this most amusing good matter of the Essay
read.[73] _Imprimis_ occurs a dispute whether the magistrates, as
patrons of the University, should march in procession before the Royal
visitors; and it was proposed on our side that the Provost, who is
undoubtedly the first man in his own city, should go in attendance on
the Principal, with the Chairman of the Commission on the Principal's
right hand, and the whole Commission following, taking _pas_ of the
other Magistrates as well as of the Senatus Academicus--or whether we
had not better waive all question of precedence, and let the three
bodies find their way separately as they best could. This last method
was just adopted when we learned that the question was not in what order
of procession we should reach the place of exhibition, but whether we
were to get there at all, which was presently after reported as an
impossibility. The lads of the College had so effectually taken
possession of the class-room where the essay was to be read, that,
neither learning or law, neither Magistrates nor Magisters, neither
visitors nor visited, could make way to the scene of action. So we
grandees were obliged to adjourn the sederunt till Saturday the
17th--and so ended the collie-shangie.

_November_ 10.--Wrote out my task and little more. At twelve o'clock I
went to poor Lady J.S. to talk over old stories. I am not clear that it
is right or healthful indulgence to be ripping up old sorrows, but it
seems to give her deep-seated sorrow words, and that is a mental
bloodletting. To me these things are now matter of calm and solemn
recollection, never to be forgotten, yet scarce to be remembered with
pain.

We go out to Saint Catherine's[74] to-day. I am glad of it, for I would
not have these recollections haunt me, and society will put them out of
my head.

_November_ 11.--Sir William Rae read us prayers. Sauntered about the
doors, and talked of old cavalry stories. Then drove to Melville, and
saw the Lord and Lady, and family. I think I never saw anything more
beautiful than the ridge of Carnethy (Pentland) against a clear frosty
sky, with its peaks and varied slopes. The hills glowed like purple
amethysts, the sky glowed topaz and vermilion colours. I never saw a
finer screen than Pentland, considering that it is neither rocky nor
highly elevated.

_November_ 12.--I cannot say I lost a minute's sleep on account of what
the day might bring forth; though it was that on which we must settle
with Abud in his Jewish demand, or stand to the consequences. I
breakfasted with an excellent appetite, laughed in real genuine easy
fun, and went to Edinburgh, resolved to do what should best become me.
When I came home I found Walter, poor fellow, who had come down on the
spur, having heard from John Lockhart how things stand. Gibson having
taken out a suspension makes us all safe for the present. So we dined
merrily. He has good hopes of his Majesty, and I must support his
interest as well as I can. Wrote letters to Lady Shelley, John L., and
one or two chance correspondents. One was singular. A gentleman, writing
himself James Macturk, tells me his friends have identified him with
Captain Macturk of St. Ronan's Well, and finding himself much
inconvenienced by this identification, he proposes I should apply to the
King to forward his restoration and advance in the service (he writes
himself late Lieutenant 4th Dragoon Guards) as an atonement for having
occasioned him (though unintentionally no doubt) so great an injury.
This is one road to promotion, to be sure. Lieutenant Macturk is, I
suppose, tolerably mad.

We dined together, Anne, Walter, and I, and were happy at our reunion,
when, as I was despatching my packet to London,

    In started to heeze up our howp[75]

John Gibson, radiant with good-natured joy. He had another letter from
Cadell, enclosing one from Robinson, in which the latter pledges himself
to make the most explicit affidavit.

On these two last days I have written only three pages, but not from
inaptitude or incapacity to labour. It is odd enough--I think it
difficult to place me in a situation of danger, or disagreeable
circumstances, purely personal, which would shake my powers of mind, yet
they sink under mere lowness of spirits, as this Journal bears evidence
in too many passages.

_November_ 13.--Wrote a little in the morning, but not above a page.
Went to the Court about one, returned, and made several visits with Anne
and Walter. Cadell came, glorious with the success of his expedition,
but a little allayed by the prospect of competition for the copyrights,
on which he and I have our eyes as joint purchasers. We must have them
if possible, for I can give new value to an edition corrected with
notes. _Nous verrons!_ Captain Musgrave, of the house of Edenhall, dined
with us. After dinner, while we were over our whisky and water and
cigars, enter the merry knight. Misses Kerr came to tea, and we had fun
and singing in the evening.

_November_ 14.--A little work in the morning, but no gathering to my
tackle. Went to Court, remained till nigh one. Then came through a
pitiless shower; dressed and went to the christening of a boy of John
Richardson's who was baptized Henry Cockburn. Read the _Gazette_ of the
great battle of Navarino, in which we have thumped the Turks very well.
But as to the justice of our interference, I will only suppose some
Turkish plenipotentiary, with an immense turban and long loose trousers,
comes to dictate to us the mode in which we should deal with our
refractory liegemen the Catholics of Ireland. We hesitate to admit his
interference, on which the Moslem admiral runs into Cork Bay or Bantry
Bay, alongside of a British squadron, and sends a boat to tow aside a
fire-ship. A vessel fires on the boat and sinks her. Is there an
aggression on the part of those who fired first, or of those whose
manoeuvres occasioned the firing?

Dined at Henry Cockburn's with the christening party.

_November_ 15.--Wrote a little in the morning. Detained in Court till
two; then returned home wet enough. Met with Chambers, and complimented
him about his making a clever book of the 1745 for Constable's
_Miscellany_. It is really a lively work, and must have a good sale.
Before dinner enter Cadell, and we anxiously renewed our plan for buying
the copyrights on 19th December. It is most essential that the whole of
the Waverley Novels should be kept under our management, as it is
called. I may then give them a new impulse by a preface and notes; and
if an edition, of say 30 volumes, were to be published monthly to the
tune of 5000, which may really be expected if the shops were once
cleared of the over-glut, it would bring in £10,000 clear profit, over
all outlay, and so pay any sum of copy-money that might be ventured. I
must urge these things to Gibson, for except these copyrights be saved
our plans will go to nothing.

Walter and Anne went to hear Madame Pasta sing after dinner. I remained
at home; wrote to Sir William Knighton, and sundry other letters of
importance.

_November_ 16.--There was little to do in Court to-day, but one's time
is squandered, and his ideas broken strangely. At three we had a select
meeting of the Gas Directors to consider what line we were to take in
the disastrous affairs of the company. Agreed to go to Parliament a
second time. James Gibson [Craig] and I to go up as our solicitors. So
curiously does interest couple up individuals, though I am sure I have
no objection whatever to Mr. James Gibson-Craig.[76]

_November_ 17.--Returned home in early time from the Court. Settled on
the review of Ornamental Gardening for Lockhart, and wrote hard. Want
several quotations, though--that is the bore of being totally without
books. Anne and I dined quietly together, and I wrote after tea--an
industrious day.

_November_ 18.--This has been also a day of exertion. I was interrupted
for a moment by a visit from young Davidoff with a present of a steel
snuff-box [Tula work], wrought and lined with gold, having my arms on
the top, and on the sides various scenes from the environs and principal
public buildings of St. Petersburg--a _joli cadeau_--and I take it very
kind of my young friend. I had a letter from his uncle, Denis Davidoff,
the black captain of the French retreat. The Russians are certainly
losing ground and men in Persia, and will not easily get out of the
scrape of having engaged an active enemy in a difficult and unhealthy
country. I am glad of it; it is an overgrown power; and to have them
kept quiet at least is well for the rest of Europe. I concluded the
evening--after writing a double task--with the trial of Malcolm
Gillespie, renowned as a most venturous excise officer, but now like to
lose his life for forgery. A bold man in his vocation he seems to have
been, but the law seems to have got round to the wrong side of him on
the present occasion.[77]

_November_ 19.--Corrected the last proof of _Tales of my Grandfather_.
Received Cadell at breakfast, and conversed fully on the subject of the
_Chronicles_ and the application of the price of 2d series, say £4000,
to the purchase of the moiety of the copyrights now in the market, and
to be sold this day month. If I have the command of a new Edition and
put it into an attractive shape, with notes, introductions, and
illustrations that no one save I myself can give, I am confident it will
bring home the whole purchase-money with something over, and lead to
the disposal of a series of the subsequent volumes of the following
works,

St. Ronan's Well,        3 vols.
Redgauntlet,             3  "
Tales of Crusaders,      4  "
Woodstock,               3  "
                        -----
                        13

make a series of 7 vols.! The two series of the _Chronicles_ and others
will be ready about the same time.

_November_ 20.--Wrought in the morning at the review, which I fear will
be lengthy. Called on Hector as I came home from the Court, and found
him better, and keeping a Highland heart. I came home like a crow
through the mist, half dead with a rheumatic headache caused by the
beastly north-east wind.

"What am I now when every breeze appals me?"[78] I dozed for
half-an-hour in my chair for pain and stupidity. I omitted to say
yesterday that I went out to Melville Castle to inquire after my Lord
Melville, who had broke his collar-bone by a fall from his horse in
mounting. He is recovering well, but much bruised. I came home with Lord
Chief-Commissioner Adam. He told me a dictum of old Sir Gilbert Elliot,
speaking of his uncles. "No chance of opulence," he said, "is worth the
risk of a competence." It was not the thought of a great man, but
perhaps that of a wise one. Wrought at my review, and despatched about
half or better, I should hope. I incline to longer extracts in the next
sheets.

_November_ 21.--Wrought at the review. At one o'clock I attended the
general meeting of the Union Scottish Assurance Company. There was a
debate arose whether the ordinary acting directors should or should not
have a small sum, amounting to about a crown a piece allotted to them
each day of their regular attendance. The proposal was rejected by many,
and upon grounds which sound very well,--such as the shabbiness of men
being influenced by a trifling consideration like this, and the
absurdity of the Company volunteering a bounty to one set of men, when
there are others willing to act gratuitously, and many gentlemen
volunteered their own services; though I cannot help suspecting that, as
in the case of ultroneous offers of service upon most occasions, it was
not likely to be acceptable. The motion miscarried, however--impoliticly
rejected, as I think. The sound of five shillings sounds shabby, but the
fact is that it does in some sort reconcile the party to whom it is
offered to leave his own house and business at an exact hour; whereas,
in the common case, one man comes too late--another does not come at
all--the attendance is given by different individuals upon different
days, so that no one acquires the due historical knowledge of the
affairs of the Company. Besides, the Directors, by taking even this
trifling sum of money, render themselves the paid servants of the
Company, and are bound to use a certain degree of diligence, much
greater than if they continued to serve, as hitherto, gratuitously. The
pay is like enlisting money which, whether great or small, subjects to
engagements under the Articles of war.

A china-merchant spoke,--a picture of an orator with bandy legs,
squinting eyes, and a voice like an ungreased cart-wheel--a liberty boy,
I suppose. The meeting was somewhat stormy, but I preserved order by
listening with patience to each in turn; determined that they should
weary out the patience of the meeting before I lost mine. An orator is
like a top. Let him alone and he must stop one time or another--flog
him, and he may go on for ever.

Dined with Directors, of whom I only knew the Manager, Sutherland
Mackenzie, Sir David Milne, and Wauchope, besides one or two old Oil Gas
friends. It went off well enough.

_November_ 22.--Wrought in the morning. Then made arrangements for a
dinner to celebrate the Duke of Buccleuch coming of age--that which was
to have been held at Melville Castle being postponed, owing to Lord M.'s
accident. Sent copy of Second Series of _Chronicles of Canongate_ to
Ballantyne.

_November_ 23.--I bilked the Court to-day, and worked at the review. I
wish it may not be too long, yet know not how to shorten it. The post
brought me a letter from the Duke of Buccleuch, acquainting me with his
grandmother, the Duchess-Dowager's death.[79] She was a woman of
unbounded beneficence to, and even beyond, the extent of her princely
fortune. She had a masculine courage, and great firmness in enduring
affliction, which pressed on her with continued and successive blows in
her later years. She was about eighty-four, and nature was exhausted; so
life departed like the extinction of a lamp for lack of oil. Our dinner
on Monday is put off. I am not superstitious, but I wish this festival
had not been twice delayed by such sinister accidents--first, the injury
sustained by Lord Melville, and then this event spreading crape like the
shroud of Saladin over our little festival.[80] God avert bad omens!

Dined with Archie Swinton. Company--Sir Alexander and Lady Keith, Mr.
and Mrs. Anderson, Clanronald, etc. Clanronald told us, as an instance
of Highland credulity, that a set of his kinsmen, Borradale and others,
believing that the fabulous Water Cow inhabited a small lake near his
house, resolved to drag the monster into day. With this view they
bivouacked by the side of the lake, in which they placed, by way of
night-bait, two small anchors, such as belong to boats, each baited with
the carcase of a dog slain for the purpose. They expected the Water Cow
would gorge on this bait, and were prepared to drag her ashore the next
morning, when, to their confusion of face, the baits were found
untouched. It is something too late in the day for setting baits for
Water Cows.[81]

_November_ 24.--Wrote at review in the morning. I have made my
revocation of the invitation for Monday. For myself it will give me time
to work. I could not get home to-day till two o'clock, and was quite
tired and stupid. So I did little but sleep or dose till dressing-time.
Then went to Sir David Wedderburn's, where I met three beauties of my
own day, Margaret Brown, Maria Brown, and Jane Wedderburn, now Lady
Wedderburn, Lady Hampden, and Mrs. Oliphant. We met the pleasant Irish
family of Meath. The resemblance between the Earl of Meath and the Duke
of Wellington is something remarkably striking--it is not only the
profile, but the mode of bearing the person, and the person itself. Lady
Theodora Brabazon, the Earl's daughter, and a beautiful young lady, told
me that in Paris her father was often taken for Lord Wellington.

_November_ 25.--This forenoon finished the review, and despatched it to
Lockhart before dinner. Will Clerk, Tom Thomson, and young Frank Scott
dined with me. We had a pleasant day. I have wrought pretty well to-day.
But I must

    Do a little more
    And produce a little ore.

_November_ 26.--Corrected proof-sheets of _Chronicles_ and _Tales_.
Advised Sheriff processes, and was busy.

Dined with Robert Dundas of Arniston, Lord Register, etc. An agreeable
evening.

_November_ 27.--Corrected proofs in the morning, and attended the Court
till one or two o'clock, Mr. Hamilton being again ill. I visited Lady S.
on my return. Came home too fagged to do anything to purpose.

Anecdote from George Bell. In the days of Charles II. or his brother,
flourished an old Lady Elphinstone, so old that she reached the
extraordinary period of 103. She was a keen Whig, so did not relish
Graham of Clavers. At last, having a curiosity to see so aged a person,
he obtained or took permission to see her, and asked her of the
remarkable things she had seen. "Indeed," said she, "I think one of the
most remarkable is, that when I entered the world there was one Knox
deaving us a' with his clavers, and now that I am going out of it, there
is one Clavers deaving us with his knocks."

_November_ 28.--Corrected proofs and went to Court. Returned about one,
and called on the Lord Chief-Baron. Dined with the Duchess of Bedford at
the Waterloo, and renewed, as I may say, an old acquaintance, which
began while her Grace was Lady Georgiana.[82] She has now a fine family,
two young ladies silent just now, but they will find their tongues, or
they are not right Gordons, a very fine child, Alister, who shouted,
sung, and spoke Gaelic with much spirit. They are from a shooting-place
in the Highlands, called Invereshie, in Badenoch, which the Duke has
taken to gratify the Duchess's passion for the heather.

_November_ 29.--My course of composition is stopped foolishly enough. I
have sent four leaves to London with Lockhart's review. I am very sorry
for this blunder, and here is another. Forgetting I had been engaged for
a long time to Lord Gillies--a first family visit too--the devil
tempted me to accept of the office of President of the Antiquarian
Society. And now they tell me people have come from the country to be
present, and so forth, of which I may believe as much as I may. But I
must positively take care of this absurd custom of confounding
invitations. My conscience acquits me of doing so by malice _prepense_,
yet one incurs the suspicion. At any rate it is uncivil and must be
amended. Dined at Lord C. Commissioner's--to meet the Duchess and her
party. She can be extremely agreeable, but I used to think her Grace
_journalière_. She may have been cured of that fault, or I may have
turned less jealous of my dignity. At all events let a pleasant hour go
by unquestioned, and do not let us break ordinary gems to pieces because
they are not diamonds. I forgot to say Edwin Landseer was in the
Duchess's train. He is, in my mind, one of the most striking masters of
the modern school. His expression both in man and animals is capital. He
showed us many sketches of smugglers, etc., taken in the Highlands, all
capital.

    "Some gaed there, and some gaed here,
    And a' the town was in a steer,
    And Johnnie on his brocket mear,
      He raid to fetch the howdie."

_November_ 30.--Another idle morning, with letters, however. Had the
great pleasure of a letter from Lord Dudley[83] acquainting me that he
had received his Majesty's commands to put down the name of my son
Charles for the first vacancy that should occur in the Foreign Office,
and at the same time to acquaint me with his gracious intentions, which
were signified in language the most gratifying to me. This makes me
really feel light and happy, and most grateful to the kind and gracious
sovereign who has always shown, I may say, so much friendship towards
me. Would to God _the King's errand might lie in the cadger's gait_,
that I might have some better way of showing my gratitude than merely
by a letter of thanks or this private memorandum of my gratitude. The
lad is a good boy and clever, somewhat indolent I fear, yet with the
capacity of exertion. Presuming his head is full enough of Greek and
Latin, he has now living languages to study; so I will set him to work
on French, Italian, and German, that, like the classic Cerberus, he may
speak a leash of languages at once. Dined with Gillies, very pleasant;
Lord Chief-Commissioner, Will Clerk, Cranstoun, and other old friends. I
saw in the evening the celebrated Miss Grahame Stirling, so remarkable
for her power of personifying a Scottish old lady. Unluckily she came
late, and I left early in the evening, so I could not find out wherein
her craft lay. She looked like a sensible woman. I had a conference with
my trustees about the purchase (in company with Cadell) of the
copyrights of the novels to be exposed to sale on the 19th December, and
had the good luck to persuade them fully of the propriety of the
project. I alone can, by notes and the like, give these works a new
value, and in fact make a new edition. The price is to be made good from
the Second Series _Chronicles of Canongate_, sold to Cadell for £4000;
and it may very well happen that we shall have little to pay, as part of
the copyrights will probably be declared mine by the arbiter, and these
I shall have without money and without price. Cadell is most anxious on
the subject. He thinks that two years hence £10,000 may be made of a new
edition.

FOOTNOTES:

[65] Holyrood remained an asylum for civil debtors until 1880, when by
the Act 43 & 44 Victoria, cap. 34 imprisonment for debt was abolished.
For description of bounds see _Chronicles of the Canongate,_ p. 7. (vol.
xli.).

[66] The book was published during November, under the following title,
_Chronicles of the Canongate_ (First Series). By the author of
_Waverley_, etc.--SIC ITUR AD ASTRA, motto of Canongate arms. In two
vols. _The Two Drovers_, _The Highland Widow_, _The Surgeon's Daughter_.
Edinburgh, printed for Cadell and Co., and Simpkin Marshall. London
1827.

The introduction to this work contains sketches of Scott's own life,
with portraits of his friends, unsurpassed in any of his earlier
writings; for example, what could be better than the description of his
ancestors the Scotts of Raeburn, vol. xli. p. 61:--

"_They werena ill to them, sir, and that is aye something; they were
just decent bien bodies. Ony poor creature that had face to beg got an
awmous and welcome; they that were shamefaced gaed by, and twice as
welcome. But they keepit an honest walk before God and man, the
Croftangrys, and as I said before, if they did little good, they did as
little ill. They lifted their rents and spent them; called in their kain
and eat them; gaed to the kirk of a Sunday, bowed civilly if folk took
aff their bannets as they gaed by, and lookit as black as sin at them
that keepit them on_."

[67] Mrs. Wilson, landlady of the inn at Fushie, one stage from
Edinburgh,--an old dame of some humour, with whom Sir Walter always had
a friendly colloquy in passing. I believe the charm was, that she had
passed her childhood among the Gipsies of the Border. But her fiery
Radicalism latterly was another source of high merriment.--J.G.L.

[68] The "new hare" was this: "It transpired in the very nick of time,
that a suspicion of usury attached to these Israelites without guile, in
a transaction with Hurst and Robinson, as to one or more of the bills
for which the house of Ballantyne had become responsible. This
suspicion, upon investigation, assumed a shape sufficiently tangible to
justify Ballantyne's trustees in carrying the point before the Court of
Session; but they failed to establish their allegation."--_Life_, vol.
ix. pp. 178-9.

[69] A favourite domestic at Abbotsford, whose name was never to be
mentioned by any of Scott's family without respect and
gratitude.--_Life_, vol. x. p. 3.

[70] Lady Jane Stuart's house was No. 12 Maitland Street, opposite
Shandwick Place. Mrs. Skene told Mr. Lockhart that at Sir Walter's first
meeting with his old friend a very painful scene occurred, and she
added--"I think it highly probable that it was on returning from this
call that he committed to writing the verses, _To Time_, by his early
favourite."--_Life_, vol. ix, p. 183.

The lines referred to are given below--

Friend of the wretch oppress'd with grief. Whose lenient hand, though
slow, supplies The balm that lends to care relief, That wipes her
tears--that checks her sighs!

'Tis thine the wounded soul to heal That hopeless bleeds for sorrow's
smart, From stern misfortune's shaft to steal The barb that rankles in
the heart.

What though with thee the roses fly, And jocund youth's gay reign is
o'er; Though dimm'd the lustre of the eye, And hope's vain dreams
enchant no more.

Yet in thy train come dove-eyed peace, Indifference with her heart of
snow; At her cold couch, lo! sorrows cease, No thorns beneath her roses
grow.

O haste to grant thy suppliant's prayer, To me thy torpid calm impart:
Rend from my brow youth's garland fair, But take the thorn that's in my
heart.

Ah! why do fabling poets tell That thy fleet wings outstrip the wind?
Why feign thy course of joy the knell, And call thy slowest pace unkind?

To me thy tedious feeble pace Comes laden with the weight of years; With
sighs I view morn's blushing face, And hail mild evening with my tears.

_--Life,_ vol. i. pp. 334-336.

[71] Sir William Forbes crowned his generous efforts for Scott's relief
by privately paying the whole of Abud's demand (nearly £2000) out of his
own pocket--ranking as an ordinary creditor for the amount; and taking
care at the same time that his old friend should be allowed to believe
that the affair had merged quietly in the general measures of the
trustees. In fact it was not until some time after Sir William's death
(in the following year) that Sir Walter learned what he had
done.--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 179.

[72] _St. Valentine's Day_ or _Fair Maid of Perth_.

[73] A Royal Commission, of which Sir Walter was a member, had been
appointed in 1826 to visit the Universities of Scotland. At the
suggestion of Lord Aberdeen, a hundred guinea prize had been offered for
the best essay on the national character of the Athenians. This prize,
which excited great interest among the Edinburgh students, was won by
John Brown Patterson, and ordered to be read before the Commissioners,
and the other public bodies, with the result described by Sir Walter. It
was read on the 17th November before a distinguished audience.

[74] Sir William Rae's house, in Liberton parish, near Edinburgh.

[75] From the old song _Andrew and his Cutty Gun_.

[76] Sir James Gibson-Craig, one of the Whig leaders, and a prominent
advocate of reform at the end of last century.

[77] Gillespie was tried at Aberdeen before Lord Alloway on September
26, and sentenced to be executed on Friday, 16th November 1827.

[78] Slightly altered from _Macbeth_, Act II. Sc. 2.

[79] Lady Elizabeth Montagu, daughter of George Duke of Montagu.

[80] Saladin's shroud, which was said to have been displayed as a
standard "to admonish the East of the instability of human
greatness."--GIBBON.

[81] The belief in the existence of the 'Water Cow' is not even yet
extinct in the Highlands. In Mr. J.H. Dixon's book on _Gairloch_, 8vo,
1886, it is said the monster lives or did live in Loch na Beiste! Some
years ago the proprietor, moved by the entreaties of the people, and on
the positive testimony of two elders of the Free Church, that the
creature was hiding in his loch, attempted its destruction by pumping
and running off the water; this plan having failed owing to the
smallness of the pumps, though it was persevered in for two years, he
next tried poisoning the water by emptying into the loch a quantity of
quick lime!!--Whatever harm was thus done to the trout none was
experienced by _the Beast_, which it is rumoured has been seen in the
neighbourhood as late as 1884 (p. 162). This transaction formed an
element in a case before the Crofters' Commission at Aultbea in May
1888.

[82] Daughter of Alexander, fourth Duke of Gordon.

[83] Lord Dudley, then Secretary of State for the Foreign Department,
was an early friend of Scott's. He had been partly educated in
Edinburgh, under Dugald Stewart's care.




DECEMBER.


_December_ 1.--This morning again I was idle. But I must work, and so I
will to-morrow whether the missing sheets arrive, ay or no, by goles!
After Court I went with Lord Wriothesley Russell,[84] to Dalkeith House,
to see the pictures; Charles K. Sharpe alongst with us. We satisfied
ourselves that they have actually frames, and that, I think, was all we
could be sure of. Lord Wriothesley, who is a very pleasant young man,
well-informed, and with some turn for humour, dined with us, and Mr.
Davidoff met him. The Misses Kerr also dined and spent the evening with
us in that sort of society which I like best. Charles Sharpe came in and
we laughed over oysters and sherry,

    "And a fig for your Sultan and Sophi."

_December_ 2.--Laboured to make lee-way, and finished nearly seven pages
to eke on to the end of the missing sheets when returned. I have yoked
Charles to Monsieur Surenne, an old soldier in Napoleon's Italian army,
and I think a clever little fellow, with good general ideas of
etymology. Signor Bugnie is a good Italian teacher; and for a German,
why, I must look about. It is not the least useful language of the
leash.

_December_ 3.--A day of petty business, which killed a holiday. Finished
my tale of the Mirror;[85] went with Tom Allan to see his building at
Lauriston, where he has displayed good taste--supporting instead of
tearing down or destroying the old chateau, which once belonged to the
famous Mississippi Law. The additions are in very good taste, and will
make a most comfortable house. Mr. Burn, architect, would fain have had
the old house pulled down, which I wonder at in him,[86] though it would
have been the practice of most of his brethren. When I came up to town I
was just in time for the Bannatyne Club, where things are going on
reasonably well. I hope we may get out some good historical documents in
the course of the winter. Dined at the Royal Society Club. At the
society had some essays upon the specific weight of the ore of
manganese, which was caviare to the President, and I think most of the
members. But it seemed extremely accurate, and I have little doubt was
intelligible to those who had the requisite key. We supped at Mr.
Russell's, where the conversation was as gay as usual. Lieut-Col.
Ferguson was my guest at the dinner.

_December_ 4.--Had the agreeable intelligence that Lord Newton had
finally issued his decree in my favour, for all the money in the bank,
amounting to £32,000. This will make a dividend of six shillings in the
pound, which is presently to be paid. A meeting of the creditors was
held to-day, at which they gave unanimous approbation of all that has
been done, and seemed struck by the exertions which had produced £22,000
within so short a space. They all separated well pleased. So far so
good. Heaven grant the talisman break not! I sent copy to Ballantyne
this morning, having got back the missing sheets from John Lockhart last
night. I feel a little puzzled about the character and style of the next
tale. The world has had so much of chivalry. Well, I will dine merrily,
and thank God, and bid care rest till to-morrow. How suddenly things are
overcast, and how suddenly the sun can break out again! On the 31st
October I was dreaming as little of such a thing as at present, when
behold there came tidings which threatened a total interruption of the
amicable settlement of my affairs, and menaced my own personal liberty.
In less than a month we are enabled to turn chase on my persecutors, who
seem in a fair way of losing their recourse upon us. _Non nobis,
Domine_.

_December_ 5.--I did a good deal in the way of preparing my new tale,
and resolved to make something out of the story of Harry Wynd. The North
Inch of Perth would be no bad name, and it may be possible to make a
difference betwixt the old Highlander and him of modern date. The fellow
that swam the Tay, and escaped, would be a good ludicrous character. But
I have a mind to try him in the serious line of tragedy. Miss Baillie
has made the Ethling[87] a coward by temperament, and a hero when
touched by filial affection. Suppose a man's nerves supported by
feelings of honour, or say by the spur of jealousy supporting him
against constitutional timidity to a certain point, then suddenly giving
way,--I think something tragic might be produced. James Ballantyne's
criticism is too much moulded upon the general taste of novels to admit,
I fear, this species of reasoning. But what can one do? I am hard up as
far as imagination is concerned, yet the world calls for novelty. Well,
I'll try my brave coward or cowardly brave man. _Valeat quantum_. Being
a teind day, remained at home, adjusting my ideas on this point until
one o'clock, then walked as far as Mr. Cadell's. Finally, went to dine
at Hawkhill with Lord and Lady Binning. Party were Lord
Chief-Commissioner, Lord Chief-Baron, Solicitor, John Wilson, Lord
Corehouse. The night was so dark and stormy that I was glad when we got
upon the paved streets.

_December_ 6.--Corrected proofs and went to Court. Bad news of Ahab's
case. I hope he won't beat us after all. It would be mortifying to have
them paid in full, as they must be while better men must lie by. _Spero
meliora_.

I think that copy of Beard's _Judgments_ is the first book which I have
voluntarily purchased for nearly two years. So I am cured of one folly
at least.[88]

_December_ 7.--Being a blank day in the rolls, I stayed at home and
wrote four leaves--not very freely or happily; I was not in the vein.
Plague on it! Stayed at home the whole day. There is one thing I believe
peculiar to me--I work, that is, meditate for the purpose of working,
best, when I have a _quasi_ engagement with some other book for example.
When I find myself doing ill, or like to come to a stand-still in
writing, I take up some slight book, a novel or the like, and usually
have not read far ere my difficulties are removed, and I am ready to
write again. There must be two currents of ideas going on in my mind at
the same time,[89] or perhaps the slighter occupation serves like a
woman's wheel or stocking to ballast the mind, as it were, by preventing
the thoughts from wandering, and so give the deeper current the power to
flow undisturbed. I always laugh when I hear people say, Do one thing at
once. I have done a dozen things at once all my life. Dined with the
family. After dinner Lockhart's proofs came in and occupied me for the
evening. I wish I have not made that article too long, and Lockhart will
not snip away.

_December_ 8.--Went to Court and stayed there a good while. Made some
consultations in the Advocates' Library, not furiously to the purpose.

Court in the morning. Sent off Lockhart's proof, which I hope will do
him some good. A precatory letter from Gillies. I must do Molière for
him, I suppose; but it is wonderful that knowing the situation I am in,
the poor fellow presses so hard. Sure, I am pulling for life, and it is
hard to ask me to pull another man's oar as well as my own. Yet, if I
can give a little help,

    "We'll get a blessing wi' the lave,
    And never miss 't."[90]

Went to John Murray's, where were Sir John Dalrymple and Lady, Sir John
Cayley, Mr. Hope Vere, and Lady Elizabeth Vere, a sister of the Marquis
of Tweeddale, and a pleasant sensible woman. Some turn for antiquity too
she shows--and spoke a good deal of the pictures at Yester. Henderland
was there too. Mrs. John Murray made some very agreeable music.

_December_ 9.--I set hard to work, and had a long day with my new tale.
I did about twelve leaves. Cadell came in, and we talked upon the great
project of buying in the copyrights. He is disposed to _finesse_ a
little about it, but I do not think it will do much good; all the fine
arguments will fly off and people just bid or not bid as the report of
the trade may represent the speculation as a good or bad one. I daresay
they will reach £7000; but £8000 won't stop us, and that for books
over-printed so lately and to such an extent is a pro-di-gi-ous price!

_December_ 10.--I corrected proofs and forwarded copy. Went out for an
hour to Lady J.S. Home and dozed a little, half stupefied with a cold in
my head--made up this Journal, however. Settled I would go to Abbotsford
on the 24th from Arniston. Before that time I trust the business of the
copyrights will be finally settled. If they can be had on anything like
fair terms, they will give the greatest chance I can see of extricating
my affairs. Cadell seems to be quite confident in the advantage of
making the purchase upon almost any terms, and truly I am of his
opinion. If they get out of Scotland it will not be all I can do that
will enable me to write myself a free man during the space I have to
remain in this world.

I smoked a couple of cigars for the first time since I came from the
country; and as Anne and Charles went to the play, I muddled away the
evening over my Sheriff-Court processes, and despatched a hugeous parcel
to Will Scott at Selkirk. It is always something off hand.

_December_ 11.--Wrote a little, and seemed to myself to get on. I went
also to Court. On return, had a formal communication from Ballantyne,
enclosing a letter from Cadell of an unpleasant tenor. It seems Mr.
Cadell is dissatisfied with the moderate success of the First Series of
_Chronicles;_[91] and disapproves of about half the volume already
written of the Second Series, obviously rueing his engagement. I have
replied that I was not fool enough to suppose that my favour with the
public could last for ever, and was neither shocked nor alarmed to find
that it had ceased now, as cease it must one day soon; it might he
inconvenient for me in some respects, but I would be quite contented to
resign the bargain rather than that more loss should be incurred. I saw,
I told them, no other receipt than lying lea for a little, while taking
a fallow-break to relieve my imagination, which may be esteemed nearly
cropped out. I can make shift for myself amid this failure of prospects;
but I think both Cadell and J.B. will be probable sufferers. However,
they are very right to speak their mind, and may be esteemed tolerably
good representatives of the popular taste. So I really think their
censure may be a good reason for laying aside this work, though I may
preserve some part of it till another day.

_December_ 12.--Reconsidered the probable downfall of my literary
reputation. I am so constitutionally indifferent to the censure or
praise of the world, that never having abandoned myself to the feelings
of self-conceit which my great success was calculated to inspire, I can
look with the most unshaken firmness upon the event as far as my own
feelings are concerned. If there be any great advantage in literary
reputation, I have had it, and I certainly do not care for losing it.

They cannot say but what I _had_ the _crown_. It is unhappily
inconvenient for my affairs to lay by my [work] just now, and that is
the only reason why I do not give up literary labour; but, at least, I
will not push the losing game of novel-writing. I will take back the
sheets now objected to, but it cannot be expected that I am to write
upon return. I cannot but think that a little thought will open some
plan of composition which may promise novelty at the least. I suppose I
shall hear from or see these gentlemen to-day; if not, I must send for
them to-morrow. How will this affect the plan of going shares with
Cadell in the novels of earlier and happier date? Very-much, I doubt,
seeing I cannot lay down the cash. But surely the trustees may find some
mode of providing this, or else with cash to secure these copyrights. At
any rate, I will gain a little time for thought and discussion.

Went to Court. At returning settled with Chief-Commissioner that I
should receive him on 26th December at Abbotsford.

After all, may there not be, in this failure to please, some reliques of
the very unfavourable matters in which I have been engaged of late,--the
threat of imprisonment, the resolution to become insolvent? I cannot
feel that there is. What I suffer by is the difficulty of not setting my
foot upon such ground as I have trod before, and thus instead of
attaining novelty I lose spirit and nature. On the other hand, who
would 'thank me for "repented sheets"? Here is a good joke enough, lost
to all who have not known the Clerk's table before the Jurisdiction Act.

My two learned Thebans are arrived, and departed after a long
consultation. They deprecated a fallow-break as ruin. I set before them
my own sense of the difficulties and risks in which I must be involved
by perseverance, and showed them I could occupy my own time as well for
six months or a twelvemonth, and let the public gather an appetite. They
replied (and therein was some risk) that the expectation would in that
case be so much augmented that it would be impossible for any mortal to
gratify it. To this is to be added what they did not touch upon--the
risk of being thrust aside altogether, which is the case with the horses
that neglect keeping the lead when once they have got it. Finally, we
resolved the present work should go on, leaving out some parts of the
Introduction which they object to. They are good specimens of the public
taste in general; and it is far best to indulge and yield to them,
unless I was very, _very_ certain that I was right and they wrong.
Besides, I am not afraid of their being hypercritical in the
circumstances, being both sensible men, and not inclined to sacrifice
chance of solid profit to the vagaries of critical taste. So the word is
"as you were."

_December_ 13.--A letter from Lockhart announcing that Murray of
Albemarle Street would willingly give me my own terms for a volume on
the subject of planting and landscape gardening. This will amuse me very
much indeed. Another proposal invites me, on the part of Colburn, to
take charge of the Garrick papers. The papers are to be edited by
Colman, and then it is proposed to me to write a life of Garrick in
quarto.[92] Lockhart refused a thousand pounds which were offered, and
_carte blanche_ was then sent. But I will not budge. My book and
Colman's would run each other down. It is an attempt to get more from
the public out of the subject than they will endure. Besides, my name
would be only useful in the way of _puff_, for I really know nothing of
the subject. So I will refuse; that's flat.

Having turned over my thoughts with some anxiety about the important
subject of yesterday, I think we have done for the best. If I can rally
this time, as I did in the Crusaders, why, there is the old trade open
yet. If not, retirement will come gracefully after my failure. I must
get the return of the sales of the three or four last novels so as to
judge what style of composition has best answered. Add to this, giving
up just now loses £4000 to the trustees, which they would not
understand, whatever may be my nice authorial feelings. And moreover, it
ensures the purchase of the copyrights--_i.e._ almost ensures them.

_December_ 14.--Summoned to pay arrears of our unhappy Oil Gas
concern--£140--which I performed by draft on Mr. Cadell. This will pinch
a little close, but it is a debt of honour, and must be paid. The public
will never bear a public man who shuns either to draw his purse or his
sword when there is an open and honest demand on him.

_December_ 15.--Worked in the morning on the sheets which are to be
cancelled, and on the Tale of _St. Valentine's Eve_--a good title, by
the way. Had the usual _quantum sufficit_ of the Court, which, if it did
not dissipate one's attention so much, is rather an amusement than
otherwise. But the plague is to fix one's attention to the sticking
point, after it has been squandered about for two or three hours in such
a way. It keeps one, however, in the course and stream of actual life,
which is a great advantage to a literary man.

I missed an appointment, for which I am very sorry. It was about our
Advocates' Library, which is to be rebuilt. During all my life we have
mismanaged the large funds expended on the rooms of our library,
totally mistaking the objects for which a library is built; and instead
of taking a general and steady view of the subject, patching up
disconnected and ill-sized rooms, totally unequal to answer the
accommodation demanded, and bestowing an absurd degree of ornament and
finery upon the internal finishing. All this should be reversed: the new
library should be calculated upon a plan which ought to suffice for all
the nineteenth century at least, and for that purpose should admit of
being executed progressively; then there should be no ornament other
than that of strict architectural proportion, and the rooms should be
accessible one through another, but divided with so many partitions, as
to give ample room for shelves. These small rooms would also facilitate
the purposes of study. Something of a lounging room would not be amiss,
which might serve for meetings of Faculty occasionally. I ought to take
some interest in all this, and I do. So I will attend the next meeting
of committee. Dined at Baron Hume's, and met General Campbell of
Lochnell, and his lady.

_December_ 16.--Worked hard to-day and only took a half hour's walk with
Hector Macdonald! Colin Mackenzie unwell; his asthma seems rather to
increase, notwithstanding his foreign trip! Alas! long-seated complaints
defy Italian climate. We had a small party to dinner. Captain and Mrs.
Hamilton, Davidoff, Frank Scott, Harden, and his chum Charles Baillie,
second son of Mellerstain, who seems a clever young man.[93] Two or
three of the party stayed to take wine and water.

_December_ 17.--Sent off the beginning of the _Chronicles_ to
Ballantyne. I hate cancels; they are a double labour.

Mr. Cowan, Trustee for Constable's creditors, called in the morning by
appointment, and we talked about the upset price of the copyrights of
Waverley, etc. I frankly told him that I was so much concerned that
they should remain more or less under my control, that I was willing,
with the advice of my trustees, to offer a larger upset than that of
£4750, which had been fixed, and that I proposed the price set up should
be £250 for the poetry, Paul's letters, etc., and £5250 for the novels,
in all £5500; but that I made this proposal under the condition, that in
case no bidding should ensue, then the copyrights should be mine so soon
as the sale was adjourned, without any one being permitted to bid after
the sale. It is to be hoped this high upset price will

    "Fright the fuds
    Of the pock-puds."

This speculation may be for good or for evil, but it tends incalculably
to increase the value of such copyrights as remain in my own person;
and, if a handsome and cheap edition of the whole, with notes, can be
instituted in conformity with Cadell's plan, it must prove a mine of
wealth, three-fourths of which will belong to me or my creditors. It is
possible, no doubt, that the works may lose their effect on the public
mind; but this must be risked, and I think the chances are greatly in
our favour. Death (my own I mean) would improve the property, since an
edition with a Life would sell like wildfire. Perhaps those who read
this prophecy may shake their heads and say, "Poor fellow, he little
thought how he should see the public interest in him and his
extinguished even during his natural existence." It may be so, but I
will hope better. This I know, that no literary speculation ever
succeeded with me but where my own works were concerned; and that, on
the other hand, these have rarely failed. And so--_Vogue la galère!_

Dined with the Lord Chief-Commissioner, and met Lord and Lady Binning,
Lord and Lady Abercromby, Sir Robert O'Callaghan, etc. These dinners put
off time well enough, and I write so painfully by candle-light that they
do not greatly interfere with business.

_December_ 18.--Poor Huntly Gordon writes me in despair about £180 of
debt which he has incurred. He wishes to publish two sermons which I
wrote for him when he was taking orders; but he would get little money
for them without my name, and that is at present out of the question.
People would cry out against the undesired and unwelcome zeal of him who
stretched out his hands to help the ark with the best intentions, and
cry sacrilege. And yet they would do me gross injustice, for I would, if
called upon, die a martyr for the Christian religion, so completely is
(in my poor opinion) its divine origin proved by its beneficial effects
on the state of society. Were we but to name the abolition of slavery
and of polygamy, how much has in these two words been granted to mankind
by the lessons of our Saviour![94]

_December_ 19.--Wrought upon an introduction to the notices which have
been recovered of George Bannatyne,[95] author, or rather transcriber,
of the famous Repository of Scottish Poetry, generally known by the
Bannatyne MS. They are very _jejune_ these same notices--a mere record
of matters of business, putting forth and calling in of sums of money,
and such like. Yet it is a satisfaction to learn that this great
benefactor to the literature of Scotland lived a prosperous life, and
enjoyed the pleasures of domestic society, and, in a time peculiarly
perilous, lived unmolested and died in quiet.

At eleven o'clock I had an appointment with a person unknown. A youth
had written me, demanding an audience. I excused myself by alleging the
want of leisure, and my dislike to communicate with a person perfectly
unknown on unknown business. The application was renewed, and with an
ardour which left me no alternative, so I named eleven this day. I am
too much accustomed to the usual cant of the followers of the muses who
endeavour by flattery to make their bad stale butter make amends for
their stinking fish. I am pretty well acquainted with that sort of
thing. I have had madmen on my hands too, and once nearly was Kotzebued
by a lad of the name of Sharpe. All this gave me some curiosity, but it
was lost in attending to the task I was engaged in; when the door opened
and in walked a young woman of middling rank and rather good address,
but something resembling our secretary David Laing, if dressed in female
habiliments. There was the awkwardness of a moment in endeavouring to
make me understand that she was the visitor to whom I had given the
assignation. Then there were a few tears and sighs. "I fear, Madam, this
relates to some tale of great distress." "By no means, sir;" and her
countenance cleared up. Still there was a pause; at last she asked if it
were possible for her to see the king. I apprehended then that she was a
little mad, and proceeded to assure her that the king's secretary
received all such applications as were made to his Majesty, and disposed
of them. Then came the mystery. She wished to relieve herself from a
state of bondage, and to be rendered capable of maintaining herself by
acquiring knowledge. I inquired what were her immediate circumstances,
and found she resided with an uncle and aunt. Not thinking the case
without hope, I preached the old doctrine of patience and resignation, I
suppose with the usual effect.

Went to the Bannatyne Club; and on the way met Cadell out of breath,
coming to say he had bought the copyrights after a smart contention. Of
this to-morrow. There was little to do at the club.

Afterwards dined with Lord and Lady Abercromby, where I met my old and
kind friend, Major Buchanan of Cambusmore. His father was one of those
from whom I gained much information about the old Highlanders, and at
whose house I spent many merry days in my youth.[96] The last time I saw
old Cambusmore was in----. He sat up an hour later on the occasion,
though then eighty-five. I shall never forget him, and was delighted to
see the Major, who comes seldom to town.

_December_ 20.--Anent the copyrights--the pock-puds were not frightened
by our high price. They came on briskly, four or five bidders abreast,
and went on till the lot was knocked down to Cadell at £8400; a very
large sum certainly, yet he has been offered profit on it already. For
my part I think the loss would have been very great had we suffered
these copyrights to go from those which we possessed. They would have
been instantly stereotyped and forced on the market to bring home the
price, and by this means depreciated for ever, and all ours must have
shared the same fate. Whereas, husbanded and brought out with care, they
cannot fail to draw in the others in the same series, and thus to be a
sure and respectable source of profit. Considered in this point of view,
even if they were worth only the £8400 to others, they were £10,000 to
us. The largeness of the price arising from the activity of the contest
only serves to show the value of the property.[97] Had at the same time
the agreeable intelligence that the octavo sets, which were bought by
Hurst and Company at a depreciated rate, are now rising in the market,
and that instead of 1500 sold, they have sold upwards of 2000 copies.
This mass will therefore in all probability be worn away in a few months
and then our operations may commence. On the whole, I am greatly pleased
with the acquisition. If this first series be worth £8400, the remaining
books must be worth £10,000, and then there is _Napoleon_, which is
gliding away daily, for which I would not take the same sum, which would
come to £24,200 in all for copyrights; besides £20,000 payable by
insurance.[98] Add the value of my books and furniture, plate, etc.,
there would be £50,000. So this may be considered my present progress.
There will still remain upwards of £35,000.

    "Heaven's arm strike with us--'tis a fearful odds."[99]

Yet with health and continued popularity there are chances in my favour.

Dine at James Ballantyne's, and happy man is he at the result of the
sale; indeed it must have been the making or marring of him. Sir Henry
Steuart there, who "fooled me to the top of my bent."

_December_ 21.--A very sweet pretty-looking young lady, the Prima Donna
of the Italian Opera, now performing here, by name Miss Ayton,[100] came
to breakfast this morning, with her father, (a bore, after the manner of
all fathers, mothers, aunts, and other chaperons of pretty actresses)!
Miss Ayton talks very prettily, and, I dare say, sings beautifully,
though too much in the Italian manner, I fear, to be a great favourite
of mine. But I did not hear her, being called away by the Clerk's coach.
I am like Jeremy in _Love for Love_[101]--have a reasonable good ear for
a jig, but your solos and sonatas give me the spleen.

Called at Cadell's, who is still enamoured of his bargain, and with
good reason, as the London booksellers were offering him £1000 or £2000
to give it up to them. He also ascertained that all the copies with
which Hurst and Robinson loaded the market would be off in a half year.
Make us thankful! the weather is clearing to windward. Cadell is
cautious, steady, and hears good counsel; and Gibson quite inclined,
were I too confident, to keep a good look-out ahead.

_December_ 22.--Public affairs look awkward. The present Ministry are
neither Whig nor Tory, and, divested of the support of either of the
great parties of the State, stand supported by the will of the sovereign
alone. This is not constitutional, and though it may be a temporary
augmentation of the sovereign's personal influence, yet it cannot but
prove hurtful to the Crown upon the whole, by tending to throw that
responsibility on the Sovereign of which the law has deprived him. I
pray to God I may be wrong, but an attempt to govern _par bascule_--by
trimming betwixt the opposite parties--is equally unsafe for the crown
and detrimental to the country, and cannot do for a long time. The fact
seems to be that Lord Goderich, a well-meaning and timid man, finds
himself on a precipice--that his head is grown dizzy and he endeavours
to cling to the person next him. This person is Lord Lansdowne, who he
hopes may support him in the House of Lords against Lord Grey, so he
proposes to bring Lord Lansdowne into the Cabinet. Lord G. resigns, and
his resignation is accepted. Lord Harrowby is then asked to place
himself at the head of a new Administration,--declines. The tried
abilities of Marquis Wellesley are next applied to; it seems he also
declines, and then Lord Goderich comes back, his point about Lord
Lansdowne having failed, and his threatened resignation goes for
nothing. This must lower the Premier in the eyes of every one. It is
plain the K. will not accept the Whigs; it is equally plain that he has
not made a move towards the Tories, and that with a neutral
administration, this country, hard ruled at anytime, can he long
governed, I, for one, cannot believe. God send the good King, to whom I
owe so much, as safe and honourable extrication as the circumstances
render possible.[102]

After Court Anne set out for Abbotsford with the Miss Kerrs. I came off
at three o'clock to Arniston, where I found Lord Register and lady, R.
Dundas and lady, Robt. Adam Dundas, Durham of Calderwood and lady, old
and young friends. Charles came with me.

_December_ 23.--Went to church to Borthwick with the family, and heard a
well-composed, well-delivered, sensible discourse from Mr. Wright,[103]
the clergyman--a different sort of person, I wot, from my old half-mad,
half-drunken, little hump-back acquaintance Clunie,[104] renowned for
singing "The Auld Man's Mear's dead," and from the circumstance of his
being once interrupted in his minstrelsy by the information that his own
horse had died in the stable.

After sermon we looked at the old castle, which made me an old man. The
castle was not a bit older for the twenty-five years which had passed
away, but the ruins of the visitor were very apparent; to climb up round
staircases, to creep through vaults and into dungeons, were not the
easy labours but the positive sports of my younger years; but that time
is gone by, and I thought it convenient to attempt no more than the
access to the large and beautiful hall in which, as it is somewhere
described, an armed horseman might brandish his lance. The feeling of
growing and increasing inability is painful to one like me, who boasted,
in spite of my infirmity, great boldness and dexterity in such feats;
the boldness remains, but hand and foot, grip and accuracy of step, have
altogether failed me; the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak, and
so I must retreat into the invalided corps and tell them of my former
exploits, which may very likely pass for lies. We drove to Dalhousie
Castle, where the gallant Earl, who had done so much to distinguish the
British name in all and every quarter of the globe, is repairing the
castle of his ancestors, which of yore stood a siege against John of
Gaunt. I was Lord Dalhousie's companion at school, where he was as much
beloved by his companions as he has been ever respected by his
companions-in-arms, and the people over whom he has been deputed to
exercise the authority of his sovereign. He was always steady, wise, and
generous. The old Castle of Dalhousie--_potius Dalwolsey_--was mangled
by a fellow called, I believe, Douglas, who destroyed, as far as in him
lay, its military and baronial character, and roofed it after the
fashion of a poor-house. The architect, Burn, is now restoring and
repairing in the old taste, and I think creditably to his own feeling.
God bless the roof-tree!

We returned home through the Temple banks by the side of the South Esk,
where I had the pleasure to see that Robert Dundas is laying out his
woods with taste, and managing them with care. His father and uncle took
notice of me when I was a "fellow of no mark or likelihood," and I am
always happy in finding myself in the old oak room at Arniston, where I
have drunk many a merry bottle, and in the fields where I have seen many
a hare killed.

_December_ 24.--Left Arniston after breakfast and arrived to dinner at
Abbotsford.

My reflections on entering my own gate were of a very different and more
pleasing cast than those with which I left my house about six weeks ago.
I was then in doubt whether I should fly my country or become avowedly
bankrupt, and surrender my library and household furniture, with the
liferent of my estate, to sale. A man of the world will say I had better
done so. No doubt had I taken this course at once, I might have employed
the £25,000 which I made since the insolvency of Constable and
Robinson's houses in compounding my debts. But I could not have slept
sound as I now can, under the comfortable impression of receiving the
thanks of my creditors and the conscious feeling of discharging my duty
like a man of honour and honesty. I see before me a long tedious and
dark path, but it leads to true fame and stainless reputation. If I die
in the harrows, as is very likely, I shall die with honour; if I achieve
my task I shall have the thanks of all concerned, and the approbation of
my own conscience. And so I think I can fairly face the return of
Christmas Day.

_December_ 25.--- I drove over to Huntly Burn, and saw the plantation
which is to be called Janeswood, in honour of my daughter-in-law. All
looking well and in order. Before dinner, arrived Mrs. George Ellis and
her nephew and niece, Mr. and Mrs. Charles Ellis, whom I was delighted
to see, as there are a thousand kind recollections of old days. Mrs.
George Ellis is less changed in manner and appearance than any one I
know. The gay and light-hearted have in that respect superiority over
those who are of a deeper mould and a heavier. There is something even
in the slightness and elasticity of person which outlasts the ponderous
strength which is borne down by its own weight. Colonel Ellis is an
enthusiastic soldier: and, though young, served in Spain and at
Waterloo.

    "And so we held our Christmastide
    With mirth and burly cheer."

_December_ 26.--Colonel Ellis and I took a pretty long walk round by the
glen, etc., where I had an extraordinary escape from the breaking down
of a foot-bridge as I put my foot upon it. I luckily escaped either
breaking my leg by its passing through the bridge in so awkward a
manner, or tearing it by some one of the hundred rusty nails through
which it fell. However, I was not, thanks to Heaven, hurt in the
slightest degree. Tom Purdie, who had orders to repair the bridge long
since, was so scandalised at the consequence of his negligence that the
bridge is repaired by the time I am writing this. But how the noiseless
step of Fate dogs us in our most seeming safe and innocent sports.

On returning home we were joined by the Lord Chief-Commissioner, the
Lord Chief Baron, and William Clerk, of gentlemen; and of ladies, Miss
Adam and young Miss Thomson of Charlton. Also the two Miss Kerrs, Lord
Robert's daughters, and so behold us a gallant Christmas party, full of
mirth and harmony. Moreover, Captain John Ferguson came over from Huntly
Burn, so we spent the day jocundly. I intend to take a holiday or two
while these friends are about us. I have worked hard enough to merit it,
and

    "... Maggie will not sleep
            For that, ere summer."[105]

_December_ 27.--This morning we took a drive up the Yarrow in great
force, and perambulated the Duchess's Walk with all the force of our
company. The weather was delightful, the season being considered; and
Newark Castle, amid its leafless trees, resembled a dear old man who
smiles upon the ruins which time has spread around him. It is looking
more venerable than formerly, for the repairs judiciously undertaken
have now assumed colouring congenial with the old walls; formerly, they
had a raw and patchy appearance. I have seldom seen the scene look
better even when summer smiled upon it.

I have a letter from James Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, asking me to
intercede with the Duke of Buccleuch about his farm.[106] He took this
burthen upon himself without the advice of his best friends, and
certainly contrary to mine. From the badness of the times it would have
been a poor speculation in any hands, especially in those of a man of
letters, whose occupation, as well as the society in which it involves
him, [are so different]. But I hope this great family will be kind to
him; if not, _cela ne vaudra pas à moi_. But I cannot and ought not to
look for having the same interest with this gentleman which I exercised
in the days of Duke Charles.

_December_ 28.--A demand from Cadell to prepare a revised copy of the
_Tales of my Grandfather_ for the press.[107] I received it with great
pleasure, for I always had private hopes of that work. If I have a knack
for anything it is for selecting the striking and interesting points out
of dull details, and hence, I myself receive so much pleasure and
instruction from volumes which are generally reputed dull and
uninteresting. Give me facts, I will find fancy for myself. The first
two volumes of these little tales are shorter than the third by seventy
or eighty pages. Cadell proposes to equalise them by adding part of vol.
ii. to vol. i., and of vol. iii. to vol. ii. But then vol. i. ends with
the reign of Robert Bruce, vol. ii. with the defeat of Flodden; happy
points of pause which I cannot think of disturbing, the first in
particular, for surely we ought to close one volume at least of Scottish
history at a point which leaves the kingdom triumphant and happy; and,
alas! where do her annals present us with such an era excepting after
Bannockburn? So I will set about to fill up the volumes, which are too
short, with some additional matter, and so diminish at least, if we
cannot altogether remove, their unsightly inequality in size. The rest
of the party went to Dryburgh--too painful a place of pilgrimage for
me.[108] I walked with the Lord Chief Commissioner through our grounds
at Huntly Burn, and by taking the carriage now and then I succeeded in
giving my excellent old friend enough of exercise without any fatigue.
We made our visit at Huntly Burn.

_December_ 29.--Lord Chief-Baron, Lord Chief-Commissioner, Miss Adam,
Miss Anstruther Thomson, and William Clerk left us. We read prayers, and
afterwards walked round the terrace.

I had also time to work hard on the additions to the _Tales of a
Grandfather_, vols. 1 and 2. The day passed pleasantly over.

_December_ 30.--The Fergusons came over, and we welcomed in the New Year
with the usual forms of song and flagon.

Looking back to the conclusion of 1826, I observe that the last year
ended in trouble and sickness, with pressures for the present and gloomy
prospects for the future. The sense of a great privation so lately
sustained, together with the very doubtful and clouded nature of my
private affairs, pressed hard upon my mind. I am now perfectly well in
constitution; and though I am still on troubled waters, yet I am rowing
with the tide, and less than the continuation of my exertions of 1827
may, with God's blessing, carry me successfully through 1828, when we
may gain a more open sea, if not exactly a safe port. Above all, my
children are well. Sophia's situation excites some natural anxiety; but
it is only the accomplishment of the burthen imposed on her sex. Walter
is happy in the view of his majority, on which matter we have favourable
hopes from the Duke of Wellington. Anne is well and happy. Charles's
entry upon life under the highest patronage, and in a line for which I
hope he is qualified, is about to take place presently.

For all these great blessings it becomes me well to be thankful to God,
who in his good time and good pleasure sends us good as well as evil.

FOOTNOTES:

[84] The Duchess of Bedford's eldest son.

[85] _My Aunt Margaret's Mirror_.

[86] Sir Walter need have expressed no surprise at this architect's
desire to pull down the old house of Lauriston! The present generation
can judge of Mr. Burn's appreciation of ancient Architecture by looking
at the outside of St. Giles, Edinburgh.--It was given over to his tender
mercies in 1829, a picturesque old building, and it left his hands in
1834 a bit of solid well-jointed mason-work with all Andrew
Fairservice's "whigmaleeries, curliewurlies, and open steek hems" most
thoroughly removed!--_Rob Roy_, vol. viii. pp. 29-30. Fortunately the
tower and crown were untouched, and the interior, which was injured in a
less degree, has, through the liberality and good taste of the late
William Chambers, been restored to its original stateliness.

[87] See Ethwald, _Plays on the Passions_, vol. ii., Lond. 1802.

[88] Alluding to an entry in the _Journal_, that he had expended 30s. in
the purchase of the _Theatre of God's Judgment_, 1612, a book which is
still in the Abbotsford Library.

[89] See note to May 30, 1827, vol. i. p. 398.

[90] Burns's lines _To a Mouse_.

[91] _Ante_, p. 60. The book had only been published two months. "The
Second Series," when published in the following year, contained _St.
Valentine's Eve, or the Fair Maid of Perth_; the two stories objected
to, viz.: _My Aunt Margaret's Mirror_ and the _Laird's Jock_ appeared in
the _Keepsake_ of 1828, and were afterwards included in vol. xli. of the
_Magnum Opus_.

[92] The Garrick papers were published under the title _Private
Correspondence, of David Garrick, illustrated with notes and Memoir_. 2
vols. 4to, London, 1831-32. [Edited by James Boaden.]

[93] Afterwards Judge in the Court of Session under the title of Lord
Jerviswoode.

[94] A few days later, however, the following reply was sent:--"Dear
Gordon,--As I have no money to spare at present, I find it necessary to
make a sacrifice of my own scruples to relieve you from serious
difficulties. The enclosed will entitle you to deal with any respectable
bookseller. You must tell the history in your own way as shortly as
possible. All that is necessary to say is that the discourses were
written to oblige a young friend. It is understood my name is not to be
put in the title-page, or blazed at full length in the preface. You may
trust that to the newspapers.

"Pray do not think of returning any thanks about this; it is enough that
I know it is likely to serve your purpose. But use the funds arising
from this unexpected source with prudence, for such fountains do not
spring up at every place of the desert. I am, in haste, ever yours most
truly, Walter Scott"--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 205.

[95] Issued in 1829 as No. 33 of the Bannatyne Club Books. _Memorials of
George Bannatyne_, 1545-1608, with Memoir by Sir Walter Scott.

[96] It was thus that the scenery of Loch Katrine came to be so
associated with the recollection of many a dear friend and merry
expedition of former days, that to compose the _Lady of the Lake_ was a
labour of love, and no less so to recall the manners and incidents
introduced.--_Life_, vol. i. p. 296.

[97] See note, Jan. 8, 1828, pp. 107-8.

[98] On his own life.

[99] See _Henry V._, Act IV. Sc. 3.

[100] The Edinburgh play-bills of the day intimate the "Second
appearance of Miss Fanny Ayton, Prima Donna of the King's Theatre."

[101] By Congreve--Act II. Sc. 7.

[102] The dissolution of the Goderich Cabinet confirmed very soon these
shrewd guesses; and Sir Walter anticipated nothing but good from the
Premiership of the Duke of Wellington.--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 188.

[103] The Rev. Thomas Wright was minister of Borthwick from 1817 to
1841, when he was deposed on the ground of alleged heresy. His works,
_The True Plan of a Living Temple_, _Morning and Evening Sacrifice_,
_Farewell to Time_, _My Old House_, etc., were published anonymously.
Mr. Wright lived in Edinburgh for fourteen years after his deposition,
much beloved and respected; he died on 13th March 1855 in his
seventy-first year.

[104] Rev. John Clunie, Mr. Wright's predecessor in the parish, of whom,
many absurd stories were told, appears to have been an enthusiastic
lover of Scottish songs, as Burns in 1794 says it was owing to his
singing _Ca' the yowes to the knowes_ so charmingly that he took it down
from his voice, and sent it to Mr. Thomson.--Currie's _Burns_, vol. iv.
p. 100, and Chambers's _Scottish Songs_, 2 vols. Edin. 1829, p. 269.

[105] See Burns's "Auld Farmer's New-year Salutation."

[106] "Mount Benger," of which Hogg had taken a lease on his marriage,
in 1820, and found that he could not make it pay.

[107] The first series had just been published under the following
title: _Tales of a Grandfather, being stories taken from Scottish
History_. Humbly inscribed to Hugh Littlejohn, Esq., in three volumes.
Printed for Cadell and Co., Edinburgh, Simpkin and Marshall, London, and
John Cumming, Dublin, 1828.

[108] During Sir Walter's illness in 1818-19 Mr. Skene was with him at
Abbotsford, and he records a curious incident regarding Dryburgh which
may be given here:--"For nearly two years he had to struggle for his
life with that severe illness, which the natural strength of his
constitution at length proved sufficient to throw off. With its
disappearance, although restored to health, disappeared also much of his
former vigour of body, activity, and power of undergoing fatigue, while
in personal appearance he had advanced twenty years in the downward
course of life; his hair had become bleached to pure white and scanty
locks; the fire of his eye quenched; and his step, more uncertain, had
lost the vigorous swinging gait with which he was used to proceed; in
fact, old age had by many years anticipated its usual progress and
marked how severely he had suffered. The complaint, that of gall-stones,
was one of extreme bodily suffering. During his severest attack he had
been alone at Abbotsford with his daughter Sophia, before her marriage
to Mr. Lockhart, and had sent to say that he was desirous I should come
to him, which I did, and remained for ten days till the attack had
subsided. During its course the extreme violence of the pain end
spasmodic contraction of the muscles of the stomach were such that I
scarcely expected the powers of endurance could sustain him through the
trial, and so much at times was he exhausted by it as to leave us in
alarm as to what the result had actually been. One night I shall not
soon forget: he had been frequently and severely ill during the day, and
having been summoned to his room in the middle of the night, where his
daughter was already standing, the picture of deep despair, at his
bed-side, the attack seemed intense, and we followed the directions left
by the physician to assuage it. At length it seemed to subside, and he
fell back exhausted on the pillow, his eyes were closed, and his
countenance wan and livid. Apparently with corresponding misgivings, his
daughter at one side of the bed and I at the other gazed for some time
intently and in silence on his countenance, and then glanced with
anxious inquiring looks to each other, till, at length, having placed my
finger on his pulse, to ascertain whether it had actually ceased to
throb, I shall never forget the sudden beam which again brightened his
daughter's countenance, and for a moment dispelled the intense
expression of anxiety which had for some time overspread it, when Sir
Walter, aware of my feeling his pulse, and the probable purpose,
whispered, with a faint voice, but without opening his eyes, 'I am not
_yet_ gone.' After some time he revived, and gave us a proof of the
mastery of his mind over the sufferings of the body. 'Do you recollect,'
he said to me, 'a small round turret near the gate of the Monastery of
Aberbrothwick, and placed so as to overhang the street?' Upon answering
that I did perfectly, and that a picturesque little morsel it was, he
said, 'Well, I was over there when a mob had assembled, excited by some
purpose, which I do not recollect, but failing of their original
intention, they took umbrage at the little venerable emblem of
aristocracy, which still bore its weather-stained head so conspicuously
aloft, and, resolving to humble it with the dust, they got a stout
hawser from a vessel in the adjoining harbour, which a sailor lad,
climbing up, coiled round the body of the little turret, and the rabble
seizing the rope by both ends tugged and pulled, and laboured long to
strangle and overthrow the poor old turret, but in vain, for it
withstood all their endeavours. Now that is exactly the condition of my
poor stomach: there is a rope twisted round it, and the malicious devils
are straining and tugging at it, and, faith, I could almost think that I
sometimes hear them shouting and cheering each other to their task, and
when they are at it I always have the little turret and its tormentors
before my eyes.' He complained that particular ideas fixed themselves
down upon his mind, which he had not the power of shaking off; but this
was, in fact, the obvious consequence of the quantity of laudanum which
it was necessary for him to swallow to allay the spasms.