[152] _Coriolanus_, Act VI. Sc. 6.

[153] _Ante_, p. 40.

[154] It may have been with this packet that the following admonitory
note was sent to Ballantyne:--"DEAR JAMES,--I return the sheets of
_Tales_ with some waste of _Napoleon_ for ballast. Pray read like a
lynx, for with all your devoted attention things will escape. Imagine
your printing that the Douglases after James II. had dirked the Earl,
trailed the royal safe-conduct at the TAIL of a _serving man_, instead
of the _tail_ of a _starved Mare_.--Yours truly, however, W.S." So
printed in first edition, vol. ii. p. 129, but corrected in the
subsequent editions to "a miserable cart jade."

[155] Gray's _Ode on Eton_.

[156] By Richard Thomson, author of _Chronicles of London Bridge_, etc.
He died in 1865.

[157] Dr. Ebenezer Clarkson, a Surgeon of distinguished merit at Selkirk
and through life a trusty friend and crony of the Sheriffs.--J.G.L.

"In Mr. Gideon Gray, in _The Surgeon's Daughter_, Sir Walter's
neighbours on Tweedside saw a true picture--a portrait from life of
Scott's hard-riding and sagacious old friend to all the country
dear."--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 181.




APRIL.


_April_ 1.--All Fools' day, the only Saint that keeps up some degree of
credit in the world; for fools we are with a vengeance. On this
memorable festival we played the fool with great decorum at Colonel
Ferguson's, going to visit them in a cold morning. In the evening I had
a distressing letter from Mrs. MacBarnet, or some such name, the
daughter of Captain Macpherson, smothered in a great snow storm. They
are very angry at the _Review_ for telling a raw-head and bloody bones
story about him. I have given the right version of the tale willingly,
but this does not satisfy. I almost wish they would turn out a clansman
to be free of the cumber. The vexation of having to do with ladies, who
on such a point must be unreasonable, is very great. With a man it would
be soon ended or mended. It really hurts my sleep.

_April_ 2.--I wrote the lady as civilly as I could, explaining why I
made no further apology, which may do some good. Then a cursed morning
of putting to rights, which drives me well-nigh mad. At two or three I
must go to a funeral--a happy and interesting relief from my employment.
It is a man I am sorry for, who married my old servant, Bell Ormiston.
He was an excellent person in his way, and a capital mason--a great
curler.

_April_ 3.--Set off at eight o'clock, and fought forward to Carlisle--a
sad place in my domestic remembrances, since here I married my poor
Charlotte. She is gone, and I am following faster, perhaps, than I wot
of. It is something to have lived and loved; and our poor children are
so hopeful and affectionate, that it chastens the sadness attending the
thoughts of our separation. We slept at Carlisle. I have not forgiven
them for destroying their quiet old walls, and building two lumpy things
like mad-houses. The old gates had such a respectable appearance once,

    "When Scotsmen's heads did guard the wall."

Come, I'll write down the whole stanza, which is all that was known to
exist of David Hume's poetry, as it was written on a pane of glass in
the inn:--

    "Here chicks in eggs for breakfast sprawl,
    Here godless boys God's glories squall,
    Here Scotsmen's heads do guard the wall,
    But Corby's walks atone for all."

The poetical works of David Hume, Esq., might, as bookmakers know now,
be driven out to a handsome quarto. Line 1st admits of a descant upon
eggs roasted, boiled or poached; 2d, a history of Carlisle Cathedral
with some reasons why the choir there has been proverbially execrable;
3d, the whole history of 1745 with minute memoirs of such as mounted
guard on the Scotch gate. I remember the spikes the heads stood upon;
lastly, a description of Corby Castle with a plan, and the genealogy of
the Howards. Gad, the booksellers would give me £500 for it. I have a
mind to print it for the Bannatynians.

_April_ 4.--In our stage to Penrith I introduced Anne to the ancient
Petreia, called Old Penrith, and also to the grave of Sir Ewain
Cæsarias,[158] that knight with the puzzling name, which has got more
indistinct. We breakfasted at Buchanan's Inn, Penrith, one of the best
on the road, and a fine stanch fellow owned it. He refused passage to
some of the delegates who traversed the country during the Radical row,
and when the worthies threatened him with popular vengeance, answered
gallantly that he had not lived so long by the Crown to desert it at a
pinch. The Crown is the sign of his inn. Slept at Garstang, an
indifferent house. As a petty grievance, my ink-holder broke loose in
the case, and spilt some of the ink on Anne's pelisse. Misfortunes
seldom come single. "'Tis not alone the inky cloak, good daughter," but
I forgot at Garstang my two breastpins; one with Walter and Jane's hair,
another a harp of pure Irish gold, the gift of the ladies of
Llangollen.[159]

_April_ 5.--Breakfasted at Chorley, and slept at Leek. We were in the
neighbourhood of some fine rock-scenery, but the day was unfavourable;
besides, I did not come from Scotland to see rocks, I trow.

_April_ 6.--Easter Sunday. We breakfasted at Ashbourne and went from
thence to Derby; and set off from thence to Drycot Hall (five miles) to
visit Hugh Scott. But honest Hugh was, like ourselves, on the ramble; so
we had nothing to do but to drive back to Derby, and from thence to
Tamworth, where we slept.

_April 7_.--We visited the Castle in the morning. It is inhabited by a
brother-in-law of the proprietor; and who is the proprietor? "Why, Mr.
Robbins," said the fat housekeeper. This was not a name quite according
with the fine chivalrous old hall, in which there was no small quantity
of armour, and odds and ends, which I would have been glad to possess.
"Well, but madam, before Mr. Robbins bought the place, who was the
proprietor?" "Lord Charles Townshend, sir." This would not do neither;
but a genealogy hanging above the chimney-piece informed me that the
Ferrars were the ancient possessors of the mansion, which, indeed, the
horseshoes in the shield over the Castle gate might have intimated.
Tamworth is a fine old place, neglected, but, therefore, more like hoar
antiquity. The keep is round. The apartments appear to have been
modernised _tempore_ Jac. I'mi. There was a fine demipique saddle,
said to have been that of James II. The pommel rose, and finished off in
the form of a swan's crest, capital for a bad horseman to hold on by.

To show Anne what was well worth seeing, we visited Kenilworth. The
relentless rain only allowed us a glimpse of this memorable ruin. Well,
the last time I was here, in 1815,[160] these trophies of time were
quite neglected. Now they approach so much nearer the splendour of
Thunder-ten-tronckh, as to have a door at least, if not windows. They
are, in short, preserved and protected. So much for the novels. I
observed decent children begging here, a thing uncommon in England: and
I recollect the same unseemly practice formerly.

We went to Warwick Castle. The neighbourhood of Leamington, a
watering-place of some celebrity, has obliged the family to decline
showing the Castle after ten o'clock. I tried the virtue of an old
acquaintance with Lord Warwick and wrote to him, he being in the
Courthouse where the assizes were sitting. After some delay we were
admitted, and I found my old friend Mrs. Hume, in the most perfect
preservation, though, as she tells me, now eighty-eight. She went
through her duty wonderfully, though now and then she complained of her
memory. She has laid aside a mass of black plumes which she wore on her
head, and which resembled the casque in the Castle of Otranto. Warwick
Castle is still the noblest sight in England. Lord and Lady Warwick came
home from the Court, and received us most kindly. We lunched with them,
but declined further hospitality. When I was last here, and for many
years before, the unfortunate circumstances of the late Lord W. threw an
air of neglect about everything. I believe the fine collection of
pictures would have been sold by distress, if Mrs. Hume, my friend, had
not redeemed them at her own cost.[161] I was pleased to see Lord
Warwick show my old friend kindness and attention. We visited the
monuments of the Nevilles and Beauchamps, names which make the heart
thrill. The monuments are highly preserved. We concluded the day at
Stratford-upon-Avon.

_April_ 8.--We visited the tomb of the mighty wizard. It is in the bad
taste of James the First's reign; but what a magic does the locality
possess! There are stately monuments of forgotten families; but when you
have seen Shakspeare's what care we for the rest. All around is
Shakspeare's exclusive property. I noticed the monument of his friend
John a Combe immortalised as drawing forth a brief satirical notice of
four lines.

After breakfast I asked after Mrs. Ormsby, the old mad woman who was for
some time tenant of Shakspeare's house, and conceived herself to be
descended from the immortal poet. I learned she was dying. I thought to
send her a sovereign; but this extension of our tour has left me no more
than will carry me through my journey, and I do not like to run short
upon the road. So I take credit for my good intention, and--keep my
sovereign--a cheap and not unusual mode of giving charity.

Learning from Washington Irving's description of Stratford that the hall
of Sir Thomas Lucy, the justice who rendered Warwickshire too hot for
Shakspeare, and drove him to London, was still extant, we went in quest
of it.

Charlcote is in high preservation, and inhabited by Mr. Lucy, descendant
of the worshipful Sir Thomas. The Hall is about three hundred years old,
an old brick structure with a gate-house in advance. It is surrounded by
venerable oaks, realising the imagery which Shakspeare loved so well to
dwell upon; rich verdant pastures extend on every side, and numerous
herds of deer were reposing in the shade. All showed that the Lucy
family had retained their "land and beeves." While we were surveying the
antlered old hall, with its painted glass and family pictures, Mr. Lucy
came to welcome us in person, and to show the house, with the collection
of paintings, which seems valuable, and to which he had made many
valuable additions.

He told me the park from which Shakspeare stole the buck was not that
which surrounds Charlcote, but belonged to a mansion at some distance
where Sir Thomas Lucy resided at the time of the trespass. The tradition
went that they hid the buck in a barn, part of which was standing a few
years ago, but now totally decayed. This park no longer belongs to the
Lucys. The house bears no marks of decay, but seems the abode of ease
and opulence. There were some fine old books, and I was told of many
more which were not in order. How odd if a folio Shakspeare should be
found amongst them! Our early breakfast did not prevent my taking
advantage of an excellent repast offered by the kindness of Mr. and Mrs.
Lucy, the last a lively Welshwoman. This visit gave me great pleasure;
it really brought Justice Shallow freshly before my eyes; the luces in
his arms "which do become an old coat well"[162] were not more plainly
portrayed in his own armorials in the hall-window than was his person in
my mind's eye. There is a picture shown as that of the old Sir Thomas,
but Mr. Lucy conjectures it represents his son. There were three
descents of the same name of Thomas. The party hath "the eye severe, and
beard of formal cut," which fills up with judicial austerity the
otherwise social physiognomy of the worshipful presence, with his "fair
round belly with fat capon lined."[163]

We resumed our journey. I may mention among the pictures at Charlcote
one called a Roman Knight, which seemed to me very fine; Teniers'
marriage, in which, contrary to the painter's wont, only persons of
distinction are represented, but much in the attitude in which he
delights to present his boors; two hawking pieces by Wouvermans, very
fine specimens, _cum aliis_.

We took our way by Edgehill, and looked over the splendid richness of
the fine prospect from a sort of gazeeboo or modern antique tower, the
place of a Mr. Miller. It is not easy to conceive a richer and more
peaceful scene than that which stretched before us, and [one with which]
strife, or the memory of strife, seems to have nothing to do.

    "But man records his own disgrace,
    And Edgehill lives in history."

We got on to Buckingham, an ugly though I suppose an ancient town.
Thence to Aylesbury through the wealth of England, in the scene of the
old ballad--

    "Neither drunk nor sober, but neighbour to both,
    I met with a man in Aylesbury vale;
    I saw by his face that he was in good case,
    To speak no great harm of a pot of good ale."

We slept at Aylesbury. The landlord, who seemed sensible, told me that
the land round the town, being the richest in England, lets at £3, or
£3, 10s. and some so high as £4 per acre. _But_ the poor-rates are 13s.
to the pound. Now, my Whitehaugh at Huntly Burn yielded at last set £4
per acre.

_April_ 9, [_London_],--We got to town about mid-day, and found Sophia,
Lockhart, and the babies quite well--delighted with their companion
Charles, and he enchanted with his occupation in the Foreign Office. I
looked into my cash and found £53 had diminished on the journey down to
about £3. In former days a journey to London cost about £30 or thirty
guineas. It may now cost one-fourth more. But I own I like to pay
postilions and waiters rather more liberally than perhaps is right. I
hate grumbling and sour faces; and the whole saving will not exceed a
guinea or two for being cursed and damned from Dan to Beersheba. We had
a joyful meeting, I promise you.[164]

_April_ 10.--I spent the morning in bringing up my journal; interrupted
by two of these most sedulous visitants who had objects of their own to
serve, and smelled out my arrival as the raven scents carrion--a vile
comparison, though what better is an old fellow, mauled with rheumatism
and other deplorables? Went out at two and saw Miss Dumergue and other
old friends; Sotheby in particular, less changed than any one I have
seen. Looked in at Murray's and renewed old habits. This great city
seems almost a waste to me, so many of my friends are gone; Walter and
Jane coming up, the whole family dined together, and were very happy.
The children joined in our festivity. My name-son, a bright and
blue-eyed rogue, with flaxen hair, screams and laughs like an April
morning; and the baby is that species of dough which is called a fine
baby. I care not for children till they care a little for me.

_April_ 11.--Made calls, walked myself tired; saw Rogers, Sharp,
Sotheby, and other old friends.

_April_ 12.--Dinner at home; a little party of Sophia's in the evening.
Sharp told me that one evening being at Sheridan's house with a large
party, Tom S. came to him as the night drew late, and said in a whisper,
"I advise you to secure a wax-light to go to bed with," shewing him at
the same time a morsel which he had stolen from a sconce. Sharp followed
his advice, and had reason to be thankful for the hint. Tired and
sleepy, I make a bad night watcher.

_April_ 13.--Amused myself by converting the _Tale of the Mysterious
Mirror_ into _Aunt Margaret's Mirror_, designed for Heath's
what-dye-call-it. Cadell will not like this, but I cannot afford to have
my goods thrown back upon my hands. The tale is a good one, and is said
actually to have happened to Lady Primrose, my great-grandmother having
attended her sister on the occasion. Dined with Miss Dumergue. My proofs
from Edinburgh reached to-day and occupied me all the morning.

_April_ 14. Laboured at proofs and got them sent off, per Mr. Freeling's
cover. So there's an end of the _Chronicles_.[165] James rejoices in the
conclusion, where there is battle and homicide of all kinds. Always
politic to keep a trot for the avenue, like the Irish postilions. J.B.
always calls to the boys to flog before the carriage gets out of the
inn-yard. How we have driven the stage I know not and care not--except
with a view to extricating my difficulties. I have lost no time in
beginning the second series of _Grandfather's Tales_, being determined
to write as much as I can even here, and deserve by industry the soft
pillow I sleep on for the moment.

There is a good scene supposed to have happened between Sam Rogers and a
lady of fashion--the reporter, Lord Dudley. Sam enters, takes a stool,
creeps close to the lady's side, who asks his opinion of the last new
poem or novel. In a pathetic voice the spectre replies--"My opinion? I
like it very much--but the world don't like it; but, indeed, I begin to
think the world wrong in everything, except with regard to _you_." Now,
Rogers either must have said this somewhere, or he has it yet to say. We
dined at Lord Melville's.

_April_ 15.--Got the lamentable news that Terry is totally bankrupt.
This is a most unexpected blow, though his carelessness about money
matters was very great. God help the poor fellow! he has been
ill-advised to go abroad, but now returns to stand the storm--old debts,
it seems, with principal and interest accumulated, and all the items
which load a falling man. And wife such a good and kind creature, and
children. Alack! alack! I sought out his solicitor. There are £7000 or
more to pay, and the only fund his share in the Adelphi Theatre, worth
£5000 and upwards, and then so fine a chance of independence lost. That
comes of not being explicit with his affairs. The theatre was a most
flourishing concern. I looked at the books, and since have seen Yates.
The ruin is inevitable, but I think they will not keep him in prison,
but let him earn his bread by his very considerable talents. I shall
lose the whole or part of £500 which I lent him, but that is the least
of my concern. I hope the theatre is quite good for guaranteeing certain
payments in 1829 and 1830. I judge they are in no danger.

I should have gone to the Club to-day, but Sir James Mackintosh had
mistaken the day. I was glad of it, so stayed at home.

It is written that nothing shall flourish under my shadow--the
Ballantynes, Terry, Nelson, Weber, all came to distress. Nature has
written on my brow, "Your shade shall be broad, but there shall be no
protection derived from it to aught you favour."

Sat and smoked and grumbled with Lockhart.

_April_ 16.--We dined at Dr. Young's; saw Captain Parry, a handsome and
pleasant man. In the evening at Mr. Cunliffe's, where I met sundry old
friends--grown older.

_April_ 17.--Made up my "Gurnal," which had fallen something behind. In
this phantasmagorial place the objects of the day come and depart like
shadows.[166] Made calls. Gave [C.K.] Sharpe's memorial to Lord Leveson
Gower. Went to Murray's, where I met a Mr. Jacob, a great economist. He
is proposing a mode of supporting the poor, by compelling them to labour
by military force, and under a species of military discipline. I see no
objection to it, only it will make a rebellion to a certainty; and the
tribes of Jacob will certainly cut Jacob's throat.[167]

Canning's conversion from popular opinions was strangely brought round.
While he was studying at the Temple, and rather entertaining
revolutionary opinions, Godwin sent to say that he was coming to
breakfast with him, to speak on a subject of the highest importance.
Canning knew little of him, but received his visit, and learned to his
astonishment, that in expectation of a new order of things, the English
Jacobins desired to place him, Canning, at the head of their expected
revolution. He was much struck, and asked time to think what course he
should take--and, having thought the matter over, he went to Mr. Pitt
and made the Anti-Jacobin confession of faith, in which he persevered
until----. Canning himself mentioned this to Sir W. Knighton, upon
occasion of giving a place in the Charter-house, of some ten pounds a
year, to Godwin's brother. He could scarce do less for one who had
offered him the dictator's curule chair.

Dined with Rogers with all my own family, and met Sharp, Lord John
Russell, Jekyll, and others. The conversation flagged as usual, and
jokes were fired like minute guns, producing an effect not much less
melancholy,--a wit should always have an atmosphere congenial to him,
otherwise he will not shine. Went to Lady Davy's, where I saw the kind
face, and heard the no less friendly greeting, of Lady Selkirk,[168] who
introduced all her children to me.

_April_ 18.--Breakfasted with Joanna Baillie, and found that gifted
person extremely well, and in the display of all her native knowledge of
character and benevolence. She looks more aged, however. I would give as
much to have a capital picture of her as for any portrait in the world.
She gave me a manuscript play to read upon Witchcraft.[169] Dined with
the Dean of Chester, Dr. Phillpotts.[170]

    "Where all above us was a solemn row
    Of priest and deacons, so were all below."[171]

There were the amiable Bishop of London (Howley[172]), Coplestone, whom
I remember a first man at Oxford, now Bishop of Llandaff, the Dean of
St. Paul's, and other dignitaries of whom I knew less. It was a very
pleasant day--the wigs against the wits for a guinea in point of
conversation. Anne looked queer, and much disposed to laugh at finding
herself placed betwixt two prelates [in black petticoats].

_April_ 19.--Breakfasted with Sir George Philips. Had his receipt
against the blossoms being injured by frost. It consists in watering
them plentifully before sunrise. This is like the mode of thawing beef.
We had a pleasant morning, much the better that Morritt was with us. He
has agreed to go to Hampton Court with us to-morrow.

Mr. Reynolds called on me about the drawing of the Laird's Jock; he is
assiduous and attentive, but a little forward. Poor Gillies also called.
Both asked me to dinner, but I refused. I do not incline to make what is
called literary acquaintances; and as for poor G., it is wild to talk
about his giving dinner to others, when he can hardly get credit for his
own.

Dined with Sir Robert Henry Inglis, and met Sir Thomas

Acland, my old and kind friend. I was happy to see him. He may be
considered now as the head of the religious party in the House of
Commons, a powerful body which Wilberforce long commanded. It is a
difficult situation; for the adaptation of religious motives to earthly
policy is apt--among the infinite delusions of the human heart--to be a
snare. But I could confide much in Sir T. Acland's honour and integrity.
Bishop Blomfield [of Chester],[173] one of the most learned prelates of
the church, also dined.

Coming home, an Irish coachman drove us into a _cul de sac_, near
Battersea Bridge. We were obliged to get out in the rain. The people
admitted us into their houses, where they were having their bit of
supper, assisted with lights, etc., and, to the honour of London,
neither asked nor expected gratification.

_April_ 20.--We went to Walter's quarters in a body, and saw Hampton
Court, with which I was more struck than when I saw it for the first
time, about 1806. The pictures are not very excellent, but they are
curious, which is as interesting, except to connoisseurs. Two I
particularly remarked, of James I. and Charles I. eating in public. The
old part of the palace, built by Wolsey, is extremely fine. Two handsome
halls are still preserved: one, the ceiling of which is garnished, at
the crossing and combining of the arches, with the recurring heads of
Henry VIII. and Anne Boleyn--great stinginess in Henry, for these
ornaments must have been put up after Wolsey's fall. He could surely
afford a diversity of this species of ornament if any man could.
Formerly, when the palace was completely a fishing-house, it extended
into, or rather over, the river. We had a good dinner from Walter, and
wended merrily home.

_April_ 21.--Dining is the principal act of the day in London. We took
ours at Kensington with Croker. There were Theodore Hook and other
witty men. He looks unhealthy and bloated. There was something, I know
not what, awanting to the cheerfulness of the party. And

    "Silence like a heavy cloud,
    O'er all the warriors hung."

If the general report of Croker's retiring be accurate, it may account
for this.

_April_ 22.--Sophia left this to take down poor Johnnie to Brighton. I
fear--I fear--but we must hope the best. Anne went with her sister.

Lockhart and I dined with Sotheby, where we met a large dining party,
the orator of which was that extraordinary man Coleridge. After eating a
hearty dinner, during which he spoke not a word, he began a most learned
harangue on the Samothracian Mysteries, which he considered as affording
the germ of all tales about fairies past, present, and to come. He then
diverged to Homer, whose Iliad he considered as a collection of poems by
different authors, at different times during a century. There was, he
said, the individuality of an age, but not of a country. Morritt, a
zealous worshipper of the old bard, was incensed at a system which would
turn him into a polytheist, gave battle with keenness, and was joined by
Sotheby, our host. Mr. Coleridge behaved with the utmost complaisance
and temper, but relaxed not from his exertions. "Zounds! I was never so
bethumped with words." Morritt's impatience; must have cost him an extra
sixpence worth of snuff.[174]

We went to Lady Davy's in the evening, where there was a fashionable
party.

_April_ 23.--- Dined at Lady Davy's with Lord and Lady Lansdowne, and
several other fashionable folks. My keys were sent to Bramah's with my
desk, so I have not had the means of putting matters down regularly for
several days; but who cares for the whipp'd cream of London society? Our
poor little Johnnie is extremely ill. My fears have been uniform for
this engaging child. We are in God's hands. But the comfortable and
happy object of my journey is ended,--Seged, Emperor of Ethiopia,[175]
was right after all.

_April_ 24.--Spent the day in rectifying a road bill which drew a
turnpike road through all the Darnickers' cottages, and a good field of
my own. I got it put to rights. I was in some apprehension of being
obliged to address the Committee. I did not fear them, for I suppose
they are no wiser or better in their capacity of legislators than I find
them every day at dinner. But I feared for my reputation. They would
have expected something better than the occasion demanded, or the
individual could produce, and there would have been a failure.

_April_ 25.--Threatened to be carried down to vote at the election of a
Collector of the Cess.[176] Resolved if I did go to carry my son with
me, which would give me a double vote.

Had some disagreeable correspondence about this with Lord Minto and the
Sheriff.

We had one or two persons at home in great wretchedness to dinner.
Lockhart's looks showed the misery he felt. I was not able to make any
fight, and the evening went off as heavily as any I ever spent in the
course of my life.

Finished my Turnpike business by getting the exceptionable clauses
omitted, which would be good news to Darnick. Put all the _Mirror_ in
proof and corrected it. This is the contribution (part of it) to Mr.
Reynolds' and Heath's _Keepsake_. We dined at Richardson's with the two
chief Barons of England[177] and Scotland.[178] Odd enough, the one
being a Scotsman and the other an Englishman. Far the pleasantest day we
have had; I suppose I am partial, but I think the lawyers beat the
bishops, and the bishops beat the wits.

_April_ 26.--This morning I went to meet a remarkable man, Mr. Boyd of
the house of Boyd, Benfield & Co., which broke for a very large sum at
the beginning of the war. Benfield went to the devil, I believe. Boyd, a
man of a very different stamp, went over to Paris to look after some
large claims which his house had over the French Government. They were
such as it seems they could not disavow, however they might be disposed
to do so. But they used every effort, by foul means and fair, to induce
Mr. Boyd to depart. He was reduced to poverty; he was thrown into
prison; and the most flattering prospects were, on the other hand, held
out to him if he would compromise his claims. His answer was uniform. It
was the property, he said, of his creditors, and he would die ere he
resigned it. His distresses were so great that a subscription was made
among his Scottish friends, to which I was a contributor, through the
request of poor Will Erskine. After the peace of Paris the money was
restored, and, faithful to the last, Boyd laid the whole at his
creditors' disposal; stating, at the same time, that he was penniless
unless they consented to allow him a moderate sum in name of percentage,
in consideration of twenty years of danger, poverty, and [exile], all of
which evils he might have escaped by surrendering their right to the
money. Will it be believed that a muck-worm was base enough to refuse
his consent to this deduction, alleging he had promised to his father,
on his death-bed, never to compromise this debt. The wretch, however,
was overpowered by the execrations of all around him, and concurred,
with others, in setting apart for Mr. Boyd a sum of £40,000 or £50,000
out of half a million of money.[179] This is a man to whom statues
should be erected, and pilgrims should go to see him. He is
good-looking, but old and infirm. Bright dark eyes and eyebrows contrast
with his snowy hair, and all his features mark vigour of principle and
resolution. Mr. Morritt dined with us, and we did as well as in the
circumstances could be expected.

Released from the alarm of being summoned down to the election by a
civil letter from Lord Minto. I am glad both of the relief and of the
manner. I hate civil war amongst neighbours.

_April_ 27.--Breakfasted this day with Charles Dumergue on a _poulet à
la tartare_, and saw all his family, specially my godson. Called on Lady
Stafford and others, and dined at Croker's in the Admiralty, with the
Duke of Wellington, Huskisson, Wilmot Horton, and others, outs and ins.
No politics of course, and every man disguising serious thoughts with a
light brow. The Duke alone seemed open, though not letting out a word.
He is one of the few whose lips are worth watching. I heard him say
to-day that the best troops would run now and then. He thought nothing
of men running, he said, provided they came back again. In war he had
always his reserves. Poor Terry was here when I returned. He seems to
see his matters in a delusive light.

_April_ 28.--An attack this day or yesterday from poor Gillies, boring
me hard to apply to Menzies of Pitfoddels to entreat him to lend him
money. I could not get him to understand that I was decidedly averse to
write to another gentleman, with whom I was hardly acquainted, to do
that which I would not do myself. Tom Campbell[180] is in miserable
distress--his son insane--his wife on the point of becoming so. _I nunc,
et versus tecum meditare canoros._[181]

We, _i.e._ Charles and I, dined at Sir Francis Freeling's with Colonel
Harrison of the Board of Green Cloth, Dr. [Maltby] of Lincoln's Inn, and
other pleasant people. Doctor Dibdin too, and Utterson, all old
Roxburghe men. Pleasant party, were it not for a bad cold, which makes
me bark like a dog.

_April_ 29.--Anne and Lockhart are off with the children this morning at
seven, and Charles and I left behind; and this is the promised meeting
of my household! I went to Dr. Gilly's to-day to breakfast. Met Sir
Thomas Acland, who is the youngest man of his age I ever saw. I was so
much annoyed with cough, that, on returning, I took to my bed and had a
siesta, to my considerable refreshment. Dr. Fergusson called, and
advised caution in eating and drinking, which I will attend to.

Dined accordingly. Duke of Sussex had cold and did not come. A Mr. or
Dr. Pettigrew made me speeches on his account, and invited me to see his
Royal Highness's library, which I am told is a fine one. Sir Peter
Laurie, late Sheriff, and in nomination to be Lord Mayor, bored me
close, and asked more questions than would have been thought warrantable
at the west end of the town.

_April_ 30.--We had Mr. Adolphus and his father, the celebrated lawyer,
to breakfast, and I was greatly delighted with the information of the
latter. A barrister of extended practice, if he has any talents at all,
is the best companion in the world.[182]

Dined with Lord Alvanley and a fashionable party, Lord Fitzroy Somerset,
Marquis and Marchioness of Worcester, etc. Lord Alvanley's wit made the
party very pleasant, as well as the kind reception of my friends the
Misses Arden.

FOOTNOTES:

[158] For an account of this monument see Nicolson and Burns's _History
of Westmoreland and Cumberland_, vol. ii. p. 410, and "Notabilia of
Penrith," by George Watson, _C. and W. Transactions_, No. xiv.

[159] Lady Eleanor Butler and the Hon. Miss Ponsonby. An amusing account
of Sir Walter's visit to them in 1825 is given by Mr. Lockhart in the
_Life_, vol. viii. pp. 47-50.

[160] The visit to Kenilworth in 1815 is not noticed in the _Life_, but
as Scott was in London for some weeks in the spring of that year he may
have gone there on his return journey. Mr. Charles Knight, writing in
1842, says that Mr. Bonnington, the venerable occupant of the Gate
House, told him that he remembered the visit and the visitor! It was
"about twenty-five years ago"--and after examining some carving in the
interior of the Gate House and putting many suggestive questions, the
middle-aged active stranger slightly lame, and with keen grey eye,
passed through the court and remained among the ruins silent and alone
for about two hours. (_Shakspeare_, vol. i. p. 89.) The famous romance
did not appear until six years later, viz. in January 1821, and in the
autumn of that year it is somewhat singular to find that Scott and his
friend Mr. Stewart Rose are at Stratford-on-Avon writing their names on
the wall of Shakespeare's birthplace--and yet leaving Kenilworth
unvisited.--Perhaps the reason was that Mr. Stewart Rose was not in the
secret of the authorship of the Novels.

[161] In the _Annual Register_ for July 1834 is the following notice:
"Lately at Warwick Castle, aged ninety-three, Mrs. Home, for upwards of
seventy years a servant of the Warwick family. She had the privilege of
showing the Castle, by which she realised upwards of £30,000."

[162] _Merry Wives_, Act I. Sc. 1.

[163] _As You Like It_, Act II. Sc. 7.

[164] Sir Walter remained at this time six weeks in London. His eldest
son's regiment was stationed at Hampton Court; his second son had
recently taken his desk at the Foreign Office, and was living at his
sister's in Regent's Park. He had thus looked forward to a happy meeting
with all his family--but he encountered scenes of sickness and
distress.--_Life_, vol. ix. pp. 226-7.

[165] The book was published early in April under the following title:
_Chronicles of the Canongate_, Second Series, by the Author of
_Waverley_, etc., "SIC ITUR AD ASTRA" _Motto of Canongate Arms_, in
three volumes. (_St. Valentine's Day; or The Fair Maid of Perth_.)
Edinburgh: Printed for Cadell and Co., Edinburgh, and Simpkin and
Marshall, London, 1828; (at the end) Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne
and Co.

[166] Among the "objects that came and departed like shadows" in this
phantasmagoria of London life was a deeply interesting letter from
Thomas Carlyle, and but for the fact that it bears Sir Walter's London
address, and the post-mark of this day, one could not imagine he had
ever seen it, as it remained unacknowledged and unnoticed in either
Journal or Correspondence.

It is dated 13th April 1828; and one of the latest letters he indited
from "21 Comely Bank, Edinburgh." After advising Scott that "Goethe has
sent two medals which he is to deliver into his own hand," he gives an
extract from Goethe's letter containing a criticism on _Napoleon_, with
the apology that "it is seldom such a writer obtains such a critic," and
in conclusion he adds, "Being in this curious fashion appointed, as it
were, ambassador between two kings of poetry, I would willingly
discharge my mission with the solemnity that beseems such a business;
and naturally it must flatter my vanity and love of the marvellous to
think that by means of a foreigner whom I have never seen, I might soon
have access to my native sovereign, whom I have so often seen in public,
and so often wished that I had claim to see and know in private and near
at hand. ... Meanwhile, I abide your further orders in this matter, and
so with all the regard which belongs to one to whom I in common with
other millions owe so much, I have the honour to be, sir, most
respectfully, your servant.--T.C."

[167] William Jacob, author of _Travels in Spain_ in 1810-11, and
several works on Political Economy. Among others "some tracts concerning
the Poor Colonies instituted by the King of the Netherlands, which had
marked influence in promoting the scheme of granting small _allotments_
of land on easy terms to our cottagers; a scheme which, under the
superintendence of Lord Braybrooke and other noblemen and gentlemen in
various districts of England, appears to have been attended with most
beneficent results."--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 229. Mr. Jacob died in 1852
aged eighty-eight.

[168] The widow of his old school-fellow, the Hon. Thomas Douglas,
afterwards Earl of Selkirk.--See _Life_, vol. i. p. 77, and 208 _n_.

[169] _Ante_, p. 10. Afterwards included in her _Poetical and Dramatic
Works,_ Lond. 1851.

[170] Dr. Henry Phillpotts, consecrated Bishop of Exeter in 1830.

[171] Crabbe's _Tale of the Dumb Orators._--J.G.L.

[172] Dr. Howley, raised in 1828 to the Archbishopric of
Canterbury.--J.G.L.

[173] Translated to the see of London in 1828, where he remained until
his death in 1859.

[174] Mr. Lockhart gives an account of another dinner party at which
Coleridge distinguished himself:--"The first time I ever witnessed it
[Hook's improvisation] was at a gay young bachelor's villa near
Highgate, when the other lion was one of a very different breed, Mr.
Coleridge. Much claret had been shed before the _Ancient Mariner_
proclaimed that he could swallow no more of anything, unless it were
punch. The materials were forthwith produced; the bowl was planted
before the poet, and as he proceeded in his concoction, Hook, unbidden,
took his place at the piano. He burst into a bacchanal of egregious
luxury, every line of which had reference to the author of the _Lay
Sermons_ and the _Aids to Reflection_. The room was becoming excessively
hot: the first specimen of the new compound was handed to Hook, who
paused to quaff it, and then, exclaiming that he was stifled, flung his
glass through the window. Coleridge rose with the aspect of a benignant
patriarch and demolished another pane--the example was followed
generally--the window was a sieve in an instant--the kind host was
furthest from the mark, and his goblet made havoc of the chandelier. The
roar of laughter was drowned in Theodore's resumption of the song--and
window and chandelier and the peculiar shot of each individual destroyer
had apt, in many cases exquisitely witty, commemoration. In walking home
with Mr. Coleridge, he entertained ------ and me with a most excellent
lecture on the distinction between talent and genius, and declared that
Hook was as true a genius as Dante--_that_ was his example."--_Theodore
Hook_, Lond. 1853, p. 23-4.

[175] Johnson's _Rambler_.

[176] The County Land Tax.

[177] The Right Hon. Sir W. Alexander of Airdrie, called to the English
Bar 1782, Chief Baron 1824; died in London in his eighty-eighth year,
1842.

[178] Sir Samuel Shepherd

[179] Walter Boyd at this time was M.P. for Lymington; he had been a
banker in Paris and in London; was the author of several well-known
tracts on finance, and died in 1837.

[180] Campbell died at Boulogne in 1844, aged sixty-seven; he was buried
in Westminster, next Southey.

[181] Hor. _Epp_. ii. 2, 76.

[182] The elder Mr. Adolphus distinguished himself early in life by his
_History of the Reign of George III_.--J.G.L.




MAY.


_May_ 1.--Breakfasted with Lord and Lady Leveson Gower,[183] and enjoyed
the splendid treat of hearing Mrs. Arkwright sing her own music,[184]
which is of the highest order--no forced vagaries of the voice, no
caprices of tone, but all telling upon and increasing the feeling the
words require. This is "marrying music to immortal verse."[185] Most
people place them on separate maintenance.

I met the Roxburghe Club, and settled to dine with them on 15th curt.
Lord Spencer in the chair. We voted Lord Olive[186] a member.

_May_ 2.--I breakfasted with a Mr. Bell, Great Ormond Street, a lawyer,
and narrowly escaped Mr. Irving, the celebrated preacher. The two ladies
of the house seemed devoted to his opinions, and quoted him at every
word. Mr. Bell himself made some apologies for the Millennium. He is a
smart little antiquary, who thinks he ought to have been a man of
letters, and that his genius has been mis-directed in turning towards
the law. I endeavoured to combat this idea, which his handsome house and
fine family should have checked. Compare his dwelling, his comforts,
with poor Tom Campbell's!

I dined with the Literary Society; rather heavy work, though some
excellent men were there. I saw, for the first time, Archdeacon Nares,
long conductor of the _British Critic_, a gentlemanlike and pleasing
man. Sir Henry Robert Inglis presided.

_May_ 3.--Breakfasted at my old friend Gally Knight's, with whom, in
former days, I used to make little parties to see poor Monk Lewis. After
breakfast I drove to Lee and Kennedy's, and commissioned seeds and
flowers for about £10, including some specimens of the Corsican and
other pines. Their collection is very splendid, but wants, I think, the
neatness that I would have expected in the first nursery-garden in or
near London. The essentials were admirably cared for. I saw one specimen
of the Norfolk Island pine, the only one, young Lee said, which has been
raised from all the seed that was sent home. It is not treated
conformably to its dignity, for they cut the top off every year to
prevent its growing out at the top of the conservatory. Sure it were
worth while to raise the house alongst with the plant.

Looked in at Murray's--wrote some letters, etc., and walked home with
the Dean of Chester, who saw me to my own door. I had but a few minutes
to dress, and go to the Royal Academy, to which I am attached in
capacity of Professor of Antiquities. I was too late to see the
paintings, but in perfect time to sit half-an-hour waiting for dinner,
as the President, Sir Thomas Lawrence, expected a prince of the blood.
He came not, but there were enough of grandees besides. Sir Thomas
Lawrence did the honours very well, and compliments flew about like
sugar-plums at an Italian carnival. I had my share, and pleaded the
immunities of a sinecurist for declining to answer.

After the dinner I went to Mrs. Scott of Harden, to see and be seen by
her nieces, the Herbert ladies. I don't know how their part of the
entertainment turned out, but I saw two or three pretty girls.

_May_ 4.--I breakfasted this morning with Sir Coutts Trotter, and had
some Scottish talk. Visited Cooper, who kindly undertook to make my
inquiries in Lyons.[187] I was at home afterwards for three hours, but
too much tired to do the least right thing. The distances in London are
so great that no exertions, excepting those which a bird might make, can
contend with them. You return weary and exhausted, fitter for a siesta
than anything else. In the evening I dined with Mr. Peel, a great
Cabinet affair, and too dignified to be very amusing, though the
landlord and the pretty landlady did all to make us easy.

_May_ 5.--Breakfasted with Haydon, and sat for my head. I hope this
artist is on his legs again. The King has given him a lift by buying his
clever picture of the election in the Fleet prison, to which he is
adding a second part, representing the chairing of the member at the
moment it was interrupted by the entry of the guards. Haydon was once a
great admirer and companion of the champions of the Cockney school, and
is now disposed to renounce them and their opinions. To this kind of
conversation I did not give much way. A painter should have nothing to
do with politics. He is certainly a clever fellow, but somewhat too
enthusiastic, which distress seems to have cured in some degree. His
wife, a pretty woman, looked happy to see me, and that is something. Yet
it was very little I could do to help them.[188]

Dined at Lord Bathurst's, in company with the Duke. There are better
accounts of Johnnie. But, alas!

_May_ 7.--Breakfasted with Lord Francis Gower, and again enjoyed the
great pleasure of meeting Mrs. Arkwright, and hearing her sing. She is,
I understand, quite a heaven-born genius, having scarce skill enough in
music to write down the tunes she composes. I can easily believe this.
There is a pedantry among great musicians that deprives their
performances of much that is graceful and beautiful. It is the same in
the other fine arts, where fashion always prefers cant and slang to
nature and simplicity.

Dined at Mr. Watson Taylor's, where plate, etc., shone in great and
somewhat ostentatious quantity. C[roker] was there, and very decisive
and overbearing to a great degree. Strange so clever a fellow should let
his wit outrun his judgment![189] In general, the English understand
conversation well. There is that ready deference for the claims of every
one who wishes to speak time about, and it is seldom now-a-days that "a
la stoccata" carries it away thus.[190]

I should have gone to the Duchess of Northumberland's to hear music
to-night, but I felt completely fagged, and betook myself home to bed.

I learned a curious thing from Emily, Lady Londonderry, namely, that in
feeding all animals with your hand, you should never wear a glove, which
always affronts them. It is good authority for this peculiarity.

_May_ 8.--Breakfasted at Somerset House with Davies Gilbert, the new
preses of the Royal Society. Tea, coffee, and bread and butter, which is
poor work. Certainly a slice of ham, a plate of shrimps, some broiled
fish, or a mutton chop, would have been becoming so learned a body. I
was most kindly received, however, by Dr. D. Gilbert, and a number of
the members. I saw Sir John Sievwright--a singular personage; he told me
his uniform plan was to support Ministers, but he always found himself
voting in Opposition. I told him his deference to Ministers was like
that of the Frenchman to the enemy, who, being at his mercy, asked for
his life:--"Anything in my power excepting that, sir," said Monsieur.
Sir John has made progress in teaching animals without severity or
beating. I should have liked to have heard him on this topic.

Called at Northumberland House and saw the Duke. According to his report
I lost much by not hearing the two rival nightingales, Sontag and Pasta,
last night, but I care not for it.

Met Sir W. K[nighton], returned from the Continent. He gives me to
understand I will be commanded for Sunday. Sir W.K. asked me to sit for
him to Northcote, and to meet him there at one to-morrow. I cannot
refuse this, but it is a great bore.[191]

Dined with Mrs. Alexander of Ballochmyle, Lord and Lady Meath, who were
kind to us in Ireland, and a Scottish party,--pleasant, from hearing the
broad accents and honest thoughts of my native land. A large party in
the evening. A gentleman came up to me and asked "if I had seen the
'Casket,' a curious work, the most beautiful, the most highly
ornamented--and then the editor or editress--a female so
interesting,--might he ask a very great favour," and out he pulled a
piece of this pic-nic. I was really angry, and said for a subscription
he might command me--for a contribution no; that I had given to a great
many of these things last year, and finding the labour occupied some
considerable portion of my time, I had done a considerable article for a
single collection this year, taking a valuable consideration for it,
and engaged not to support any other. This may be misrepresented, but I
care not. Suppose this patron of the Muses gives five guineas to his
distressed lady, he will think he does a great deal, yet takes fifty
from me with the calmest air in the world, for the communication is
worth that if it be worth anything. There is no equality in the
proposal.

I saw to-day at Northumberland House, Bridge the jeweller, having and
holding a George, richly ornamented with diamonds, being that which
Queen Anne gave to the Duke of Marlborough, which his present
representative pawned or sold, and which the present king bought and
presented to the Duke of Wellington. His Grace seemed to think this
interesting jewel was one of two which had been preserved since the
first institution of that order. That, from the form and taste, I
greatly doubt. Mr. Bridge put it again into his coat pocket, and walked
through the street with £10,000 in his pocket. I wonder he is not
hustled and robbed. I have sometimes envied rich citizens, but it was a
mean and erroneous feeling. This man, who, I suppose, must be as rich as
a Jew, had a shabby look in the Duke's presence, and seemed just a
better sort of pedlar. Better be a poor gentleman after all.

_May_ 9.--Grounds of Foote's farce of the Cozeners. Lady ----. A certain
Mrs. Phipps audaciously set up in a fashionable quarter of the town as a
person through whose influence, properly propitiated, favours and
situations of importance might certainly be obtained--always for a
consideration. She cheated many people, and maintained the trick for
many months. One trick was to get the equipage of Lord North, and other
persons of importance, to halt before her door as if the owners were
within. With respect to most of them, this was effected by bribing the
drivers. But a gentleman, who watched her closely, observed that Charles
J. Fox actually left his carriage and went into the house, and this
more than once. He was then, it must be noticed, in the Ministry. When
Mrs. Phipps was blown up, this circumstance was recollected as deserving
explanation, which Fox readily gave at Brooks's and elsewhere. It seems
Mrs. Phipps had the art to persuade him that she had the disposal of
what was then called a hyæna--that is, an heiress--an immense Jamaica
heiress, in whom she was willing to give or sell her interest to Charles
Fox. Without having perfect confidence in the obliging proposal, the
great statesman thought the thing worth looking after, and became so
earnest in it, that Mrs. Phipps was desirous to back out of it for fear
of discovery. With this view she made confession one fine morning, with
many professions of the deepest feelings, that the hyæna had proved a
frail monster, and given birth to a girl or boy--no matter which. Even
this did not make Charles quit chase of the hyæna. He intimated that if
the cash was plenty and certain, the circumstance might be overlooked.
Mrs. Phipps had nothing for it but to double the disgusting dose. "The
poor child," she said, "was unfortunately of a mixed colour, somewhat
tinged with the blood of Africa; no doubt Mr. Fox was himself very dark,
and the circumstance might not draw attention," etc. etc. This singular
anecdote was touched upon by Foote, and is the cause of introducing the
negress into the _Cozeners_,[192] though no express allusion to Charles
Fox was admitted. Lady ------ tells me that, in her youth, the laugh was
universal so soon as the black woman appeared. It is one of the numerous
hits that will be lost to posterity. Jack Fuller, celebrated for his
attempt on the Speaker's wig, told me he was editing Foote, but I think
he has hardly taste enough. He told me Colman was to be his
assistant.[193]

Went down in the morning to Montagu House, where I found the Duke going
out to suffer a recovery.[194] I had some fancy to see the ceremony, but
more to get my breakfast, which I took at a coffee-house at Charing
Cross.

I sat to Northcote, who is to introduce himself in the same piece in the
act of painting me, like some pictures of the Venetian school. The
artist is an old man, low in stature, and bent with years--fourscore at
least. But the eye is quick and the countenance noble. A pleasant
companion, familiar with recollections of Sir Joshua, Samuel Johnson,
Burke, Goldsmith, etc. His account of the last confirms all that we have
heard of his oddities.

Dined with Mr. Arbuthnot, where met Duke of Rutland, Lord and Lady
Londonderry, etc. etc. Went to hear Mrs. Arkwright at Lady Charlotte
Greville's. Lockhart came home to-day.

_May_ 10.--Another long sitting to the old Wizard Northcote. He really
resembles an animated mummy.[195] He has altered my ideas of Sir Joshua
Reynolds, whom, from the expressions used by Goldsmith, Johnson, and
others, I used to think an amiable and benevolent character. But though
not void of generosity, he was cold, unfeeling, and indifferent to his
family: so much so that his sister, Miss Reynolds, after expressing her
wonder at the general acceptance which Sir Joshua met with in society,
concluded with, "For me, I only see in him a dark gloomy tyrant." I own
this view of his character hurt me, by depriving me of the pleasing
vision of the highest talents united with the kindest temper. But
Northcote says his disagreeable points were rather negative than
positive--more a want of feeling than any desire to hurt or tyrannise.
They arose from his exclusive attachment to art.

Dined with a pleasant party at Lord Gower's. Lady Gower is a beautiful
woman, and extremely courteous. Mrs. Arkwright was of the party. I am
getting well acquainted with her, and think I can see a great deal of
sense mixed with her accomplishment.

_May_ 11.--Breakfasted with Dr. Maltby, preacher in Lincoln's Inn. He
was to have been the next Bishop, if the Whigs had held their ground.
His person, manners, and attainments would have suited the lawn sleeves
well. I heard service in the chapel, which is a very handsome place of
worship; it is upstairs, which seems extraordinary, and the space
beneath forms cloisters, in which the ancient Benchers of this Society
of Lincoln's Inn are entered. I met my old friend Sir William
Grant,[196] and had some conversation with him. Dr. Maltby gave us a
good sermon upon the introduction of the Gospel. There was only one
monument in the chapel, a handsome tablet to the memory of Perceval. The
circumstance that it was the only monument in the chapel of a society
which had produced so many men of talents and distinction was
striking--it was a tribute due to the suddenness of his strange
catastrophe. There is nothing very particular in the hall of Lincoln's
Inn, nor its parlour, which are like those of a college. Indeed the
whole establishment has a monastic look.

Sat to Northcote, who only requires (_Deo gratias_) another sitting.
Dined with his Majesty in a very private party--five or six only being
present. I was received most kindly as usual. It is impossible to
conceive a more friendly manner than his Majesty used towards me. I
spoke to S.W.K. about the dedication of the collected works, and he says
it will be highly well taken.[197]

I went after the party broke up to Mrs. Scott of Harden, where I made
acquaintance with her beautiful kinswoman, Lady Sarah Ponsonby, whose
countenance is really seraphic and totally devoid of affectation.

_May_ 12.--Old George II. was, as is well known, extremely passionate.
On these occasions his small stock of English totally failed him, and he
used to express his indignation in the following form: "G--d--n me, who
I am? Got d--n you, who you be?" Lockhart and I visited a Mrs.
Quillinan,[198] with whom Wordsworth and his wife have pitched their
tent. I was glad to see my old friend, whose conversation has so much
that is fresh and manly in it. I do not at all acquiesce in his system
of poetry, and I think he has injured his own fame by adhering to it.
But a better or more sensible man I do not know than W.W.

Afterwards Lockhart and I called on Miss Nicolson, and from thence I
wandered down into that immense hash of a city to see Heath, and
fortunately caught hold on him. All this made me too late for
Northcote,--who was placable, however.[199]

Dined at Sir John Shelley's, _à petit couvert_. Here were the Duke of
Wellington, Duke of Rutland, and only one or two more, particularly Mr.
and Mrs. Arbuthnot. The evening was very pleasant, and did not break up
till twelve at night.

_May_ 13.--Breakfasted with Sir George Philips--there was Sydney Smith,
full of fun and spirit, and his daughter, who is a good-humoured
agreeable girl. We had a pleasant breakfast party.

The Catholics have carried their question, which I suppose will be
thrown out in the Lords. I think they had better concede this
oft-disputed point, and dissolve the league which binds so many people
in opposition to Government. It is a matter of great consequence that
men should not acquire the habit of opposing. No earthly advantage would
arise to Ireland from ceding what is retained, where so much has been
already yielded up. Indeed the Catholic gentry do not pretend that the
granting the immunities they require would tranquillise the country, but
only that it would remove from men of honour all pretext for
countenancing them. This is on the principle of the solicitor of the
unhappy Rajah Nuncomar, who after extorting as much money as he could,
under pretence of bribing persons to procure his pardon, facilitate his
escape, etc., found himself pressed by his victim for a final answer.
"The preparations for death are ready," said the Rajah; "I fear,
notwithstanding all you have told me, their intention is to take my
life." "By G--d," replied the trusty solicitor, "if they do I will never
forgive them." So if there are further disturbances after the Catholic
claims are granted, I suppose those by whom they are now advocated will
never forgive their friends the Pats; and that will be all John Bull
will get for it. I dined with Lady Stafford, for whom I have much
regard. I recollect her ever since she stood at her aunt Lady
Glenorchy's window, in George Square, reviewing her regiment of
Sutherland giants. She was, as she ever is, most attentive and kind.

_May_ 14.--I carried Lockhart to Lady Francis Gower's to hear Mrs.
Arkwright sing, and I think he admired her as much as his nature permits
him to love anything musical, for he certainly is not quickly moved by
concord of sweet sounds. I do not understand them better than he, but
the _voce del petto_ always affects me, and Mrs. A. has it in
perfection. I have received as much pleasure from that lady's music as
sound could ever give me.[200] Lockhart goes off for Brighton. I had a
round of men in office. I waited on the Duke at Downing St., and I think
put L. right there, if he will look to himself. But I can only tee the
ball; he must strike the blow with the golf club himself. I saw Mr.
Renton, and he promised to look after Harper's business favourably. Good
gracious, what a solicitor we are grown!

Dined with Lady Davy--a pleasant party; but I was out of spirits; I
think partly on Johnnie's account, partly from fatigue. There was
William Henry Lyttelton amongst others; much of his oddity has rubbed
off, and he is an honoured courtly gentleman, with a great deal of wit;
and not one of the fine people who perplex you by shutting their mouths
if you begin to speak. I never fear quizzing, so am not afraid of this
species of lying-in-wait. Lord have mercy on me if I were!

_May_ 15.--Dined at the Roxburghe Club. Lord Spencer presided, but had a
cold which limited his exertions. Lord Clive, beside whom I sat, was
deaf, though intelligent and good-humoured. The Duke of Devonshire was
still deafer. There were many little chirruping men who might have
talked but went into committee. There was little general conversation. I
should have mentioned that I breakfasted with kind, good Mr. Hughes, and
met the Bishop of Llandaff--strongly intelligent. I do not understand
his politics about the Catholic question. He seems disposed to concede,
yet is Toryissimus. Perhaps they wish the question ended, but the
present opinions of the Sovereign are too much interested to permit them
to quit it.

_May_ 16.--Breakfasted with Mr. Reynolds; a miscellaneous party.
Wordsworth, right welcome unto me was there. I had also a sight of
Godwin the philosopher, grown old and thin--of Douglas Kinnaird, whom I
asked about Byron's statue, which is going forward--of Luttrell, and
others whom I knew not. I stayed an instant at Pickering's, a young
publisher's, and bought some dramatic reprints. I love them very much,
but I would [not] advise a young man to undertake them. They are of
course dear, and as they have not the dignity of scarcity, the
bibliomaniacs pass them by as if they were plated candlesticks. They may
hold as good a light for all that as if they were real silver, and
therefore I buy them when I can light on them. But here I am spending
money when I have more need to make it. On Monday, the 26th, it shall be
Northward ho!

Dined at Lady Georgiana and Mr. Agar Ellis's.[201] There were Lord and
Lady Stafford there, and others to whom I am sincerely attached.

_May_ 17.--A day of busy idleness. Richardson came and breakfasted with
me like a good fellow. Then I went to Mr. Chantrey, and sat for an hour
to finish the bust.[202] Thereafter, about twelve o'clock, I went to
breakfast the second, at Lady Shelley's, where there was a great morning
party. A young lady[203] begged a lock of my hair, which was not worth
refusing. I stipulated for a kiss, which I was permitted to take. From
this I went to the Duke of Wellington, who gave me some hints or rather
details. Afterwards I drove out to Chiswick, where I had never been
before. A numerous and gay party were assembled to walk and enjoy the
beauties of that Palladian [dome?]; the place and highly ornamented
gardens belonging to it resemble a picture of Watteau. There is some
affectation in the picture, but in the _ensemble_ the original looked
very well. The Duke of Devonshire received every one with the best
possible manners. The scene was dignified by the presence of an immense
elephant, who, under charge of a groom, wandered up and down, giving an
air of Asiatic pageantry to the entertainment. I was never before
sensible of the dignity which largeness of size and freedom of movement
give to this otherwise very ugly animal. As I was to dine at Holland
House, I did not partake in the magnificent repast which was offered to
us, and took myself off about five o'clock. I contrived to make a
demi-toilette at Holland House rather than drive all the way to London.
Rogers came to dinner, which was very entertaining. The Duke of
Manchester was there, whom I remember having seen long ago. He had left
a part of his brain in Jamaica by a terrible fracture, yet,
notwithstanding the accident and the bad climate, was still a
fine-looking man. Lady Holland[204] pressed me to stay all night, which
I did accordingly.

_May_ 18.--The freshness of the air, the singing of the birds, the
beautiful aspect of nature, the size of the venerable trees, all gave me
a delightful feeling this morning. It seemed there was pleasure even in
living and breathing, without anything else. We (_i.e._ Rogers and I)
wandered into a green lane bordered with fine trees, which might have
been twenty miles from a town. It will be a great pity when this ancient
house must come down and give way to brick works and brick-houses. It is
not that Holland House is fine as a building; on the contrary, it has a
tumble-down look; and, although decorated with the bastard Gothic of
James I.'s time, the front is heavy. But it resembles many respectable
matrons, who, having been absolutely ugly during youth, acquire by age
an air of dignity;--though one is chiefly affected by the air of deep
seclusion which is spread around the domain. I called on Mr. Peel as I
returned home, and after that on Lord Melville. The latter undertook for
Allan Cunningham's son's cadetship, for which I am right glad.

Dined at Mr. and Lady Sarah Ponsonby's, who called on us last year at
Abbotsford. The party was very pleasant, having Lord and Lady Gower,
whom I like, Mr. and Lady Georgiana Ellis, and other persons of
distinction. Saw Wordsworth too, and learned that Tom Moore was come to
town.

_May_ 19.--A morning of business. Breakfasted with Dumergue and one or
two friends. Dined by command with the Duchess of Kent. I was very
kindly recognised by Prince Leopold. I was presented to the little
Princess Victoria,--I hope they will change her name,--the heir apparent
to the Crown as things now stand. How strange that so large and fine a
family as that of his late Majesty should have died off and decayed into
old age with so few descendants! Prince George of Cumberland is, they
say, a fine boy about nine years old--a bit of a pickle, swears and
romps like a brat that has been bred in a barrack yard. This little lady
is educated with much care, and watched so closely by the Duchess and
the principal governess, that no busy maid has a moment to whisper, "You
are heir of England." I suspect if we could dissect the little head, we
should find that some pigeon or other bird of the air had carried the
matter. She is fair, like the Royal Family, but does not look as if she
would be pretty. The Duchess herself is very pleasing and affable in her
manners. I sat by Mr. Spring Rice, a very agreeable man. He is a great
leader among the Pro-Catholics. I saw also Charles Wynn and his
lady--and the evening, for a Court evening, went agreeably off. I am
commanded for two days by Prince Leopold, but will send excuses.

_May_ 20.--I set out for Brighton this morning in a light coach, which
performed the distance in six hours--otherwise the journey was
uncomfortable. Three women, the very specimens of womankind,--I mean
trumpery,--a child who was sick, but afterwards looked and smiled, and
was the only thing like company. The road is pleasant enough till it
gets into the Wealds of Sussex, a huge succession of green downs which
sweep along the sea-coast for many miles. Brighton seems grown twice as
large since 1815. It is a city of loiterers and invalids--a Vanity Pair
for pipers, dancing of bears, and for the feats of Mr. Punch. I found
all my family well excepting the poor pale Johnnie; and he is really a
thing to break one's heart by looking at--yet he is better. The rest are
in high kelter.

My old friend Will Rose dined with us, also a Doctor Yates and his
wife--the Esculapius of Brighton, who seems a sensible man. I was
entertained with the empire he exerted over him as protector of his
health. I was very happy to find myself at Sophia's quiet table, and am
only sorry that I must quit her so soon.

_May_ 21.--This being a fine day, we made some visits in the morning, in
the course of which I waited on Mrs. Davies, sister of Mrs. Charlotte
Smith,[205] and herself the author of the _Peacock at Home_, one of the
prettiest and liveliest _jeux d'esprit_ in our language. She is a fine
stately old lady--not a bit of a literary person,--I mean having none of
the affectation of it, but like a lady of considerable rank. I am glad I
have seen her. Renewed my acquaintance with Lady Charlotte Hamilton,
_née_ Lady Charlotte Hume, and talked over some stories thirty years old
at least. We then took a fly, as they call the light carriages, and
drove as far as the Devil's Ditch. A rampart it is of great strength and
depth, enclosing, I presume, the precincts of a British town that must
have held 30,000 men at least. I could not discover where they got
water.

We got home at four, and dined at five, and smoked cigars till eight.
Will Rose came in with his man Hinvaes,[206] who is as much a piece of
Rose as Trim was of Uncle Toby. We laughed over tales "both old and new"
till ten o'clock came, and then broke up.

_May_ 22.--Left Brighton this morning with a heavy heart. Poor Johnnie
looks so very poorly that I cannot but regard his case as desperate, and
then God help the child's parents! Amen!

We took the whole of one of the post-coaches, and so came rapidly to
town, Sophia coming along with us about a new servant. This enabled me
to dine with Mr. Adolphus, the celebrated barrister, the father to my
young friend who wrote so like a gentleman on my matters.[207] I met Mr.
Gurney, Archdeacon Wrangham, and a lawyer or two besides. I may be
partial, but the conversation of intelligent barristers amuses me more
than that of other professional persons. There is more of real life in
it, with which, in all its phases, people of business get so well
acquainted. Mr. Adolphus is a man of varied information, and very
amusing. He told me a gipsy told him of the success he should have in
life, and how it would be endangered by his own heat of temper,
alluding, I believe, to a quarrel betwixt him and a brother barrister.

_May_ 23.--I breakfasted with Chantrey, and met the celebrated Coke of
Norfolk,[208] a very pleasing man, who gave me some account of his
plantations. I understand from him that, like every wise man, he planted
land that would not let for 5s. per acre, but which now produces £3000 a
year in wood. He talked of the trees which he had planted as being so
thick that a man could not fathom[209] them. Withers, he said, was never
employed save upon one or two small jobs of about twenty acres on which
every expense was bestowed with a view to early growth. So much for
Withers. I shall have a rod in pickle for him if worth while.[210] After
sitting to Chantrey for the last time, I called on Lady Shelley, P.P.C.,
and was sorry to find her worse than she had been. Dined with Lady
Stafford, where I met the two Lochs, John and James. The former gave me
his promise for a cadetship to Allan Cunningham's son; I have a similar
promise from Lord Melville, and thus I am in the situation in which I
have been at Gladdies Wiel,[211] where I have caught two trouts, one
with the fly, the other with the bobber. I have landed both, and so I
will now. Mr. Loch also promised me to get out Shortreed as a free
mariner. Tom Grenville was at dinner.

_May_ 24.--This day we dined at Richmond Park with Lord Sidmouth. Before
dinner his Lordship showed me letters which passed between the great
Lord Chatham and Dr. Addington, Lord Sidmouth's [father]. There was much
of that familiar friendship which arises, and must arise, between an
invalid, the head of an invalid family, and their medical adviser,
supposing the last to be a wise and well-bred man. The character of Lord
Chatham's handwriting is strong and bold, and his expressions short and
manly. There are intimations of his partiality for William, whose health
seems to have been precarious during boyhood. He talks of William
imitating him in all he did, and calling for ale because his father was
recommended to drink it. "If I should smoke," he said, "William would
instantly call for a pipe;" and, he wisely infers, "I must take care
what I do." The letters of the late William Pitt are of great curiosity,
but as, like all real letters of business, they only _allude_ to matters
with which his correspondent is well acquainted, and do not enter into
details, they would require an ample commentary. I hope Lord Sidmouth
will supply this, and have urged it as much as I can. I think, though I
hate letters and abominate interference, I will write to him on this
subject.

I have bought a certain quantity of reprints from a bookseller in
Chancery Lane, Pickering by name. I urged him to print the controversy
between Greene and the Harveys. He wished me to write a third part to a
fine edition of Cotton's _Angler_, for which I am quite
incompetent.[212]

I met at Richmond my old and much esteemed friend Lord Stowell,[213]
looking very frail and even comatose. _Quantum mutatus!_ He was one of
the pleasantest men I ever knew.

Respecting the letters, I picked up from those of Pitt that he was
always extremely desirous of peace with France, and even reckoned upon
it at a moment when he ought to have despaired. I suspect this false
view of the state of France (for such it was), which induced the British
Minister to look for peace when there was no chance of it, damped his
ardour in maintaining the war. He wanted the lofty ideas of his
father--you read it in his handwriting, great statesman as he was. I saw
a letter or two of Burke's in which there is an _épanchement du cœur_
not visible in those of Pitt, who writes like a Premier to his
colleague. Burke was under the strange hallucination that his son, who
predeceased him, was a man of greater talents than himself. On the
contrary, he had little talent and no resolution. On moving some
resolutions in favour of the Catholics, which were ill-received by the
House of Commons, young Burke actually ran away, which an Orangeman
compared to a cross-reading in the newspapers:--Yesterday the Catholic
resolutions were moved, etc., but, the pistol missing fire, the villains
ran off!

_May_ 25.--After a morning of letter-writing, leave-taking, papers
destroying, and God knows what trumpery, Sophia and I set out for
Hampton Court, carrying with us the following lions and
lionesses--Samuel Rogers, Tom Moore, Wordsworth, with wife and daughter.
We were very kindly and properly received by Walter and his wife, and a
very pleasant party.[214]

_May_ 26.--An awful confusion with paying of bills, writing of cards,
and all species of trumpery business. Southey, who is just come to town,
breakfasted with us. He looks, I think, but poorly, but it may be owing
to family misfortune. One is always tempted to compare Wordsworth and
Southey. The latter is unquestionably the greater scholar--I mean
possesses the most extensive stock of information, but there is a
freshness, vivacity, and spring about Wordsworth's mind, which, if we
may compare two men of uncommon powers, shows more originality. I say
nothing of their poetry. Wordsworth has a system which disposes him to
take the bull by the horns and offend public taste, which, right or
wrong, will always be the taste of the public; yet he could be popular
if he would,--witness the Feast at Brougham Castle,--Song of the
Cliffords, I think, is the name.

I walked down to call, with Rogers, on Mrs. D'Arblay. She showed me some
notes which she was making about her novels, which she induced me to
believe had been recollected and jotted down in compliance with my
suggestions on a former occasion. It is curious how she contrived to get
_Evelina_ printed and published without her father's knowledge. Her
brother placed it in the hands of one Lowndes, who, after its success,
bought it for £20!!! and had the magnanimity to add £10--the price, I
think, of _Paradise Lost_. One of her sisters betrayed the secret to her
father, who then eagerly lent his ears to hear what was said of the new
novel, and the first opinion which saluted his delighted ears was the
voice of Johnson energetically recommending it to the perusal of Mrs
Thrale.[215]

At parting, Rogers gave me a gold-mounted pair of glasses, which I will
not part with in a hurry. I really like Rogers, and have always found
him most friendly. After many petty delays we set off at last and
reached Bushy Grove to dine with my kind and worthy family friend and
relative, David Haliburton. I am delighted to find him in all the
enjoyment of life, with the vivacity of youth in his sentiments and
enjoyments. Mr. and Mrs. Campbell Marjoribanks are the only company
here, with Miss Parker.

_May 27_.--Well, my retreat from London is now accomplished, and I may
fairly balance the advantage and loss of this London trip. It has cost
me a good deal of money, and Johnnie's illness has taken away much of
the pleasure I had promised myself. But if I can judge from the
reception I have met with, I have the pleasure to know that I stand as
fair with the public, and as high with my personal friends, as in any
period of my life. And this has enabled me to forward the following
objects to myself and others:--

1st. I have been able to place Lockhart on the right footing in the
right quarter, leaving the improvement of his place of vantage to
himself as circumstances should occur.

2d. I have put the Chancery suit in the right train, which without me
could not have been done.[216]

3d. I picked up some knowledge of the state of existing matters, which
is interesting and may be useful.

4th. I have succeeded in helping to get a commission for James Skene.

5th. I have got two cadetships for the sons of Allan Cunningham.

6th. I have got leave to Andrew Shortreed to go out to India.

7th. I have put John Eckford into correspondence with Mr. Loch, who
thinks he can do something for his claim.

8th. I have been of material assistance to poor Terry in his affairs.

9th. I have effectually protected my Darnick neighbours and myself
against the New Road Bill.

Other advantages there are, besides the great one of scouring up one's
own mind a little and renewing intercourse with old friends, bringing
one's-self nearer in short to the currency of the time.

All this may weigh against the expenditure of £200 or £250, when money
is fortunately not very scarce with me.

We went out for a most agreeable drive through the Hertfordshire
Lanes--a strange intricate combination of narrow roads passing through
the country, winding and turning among oaks and other large timber, just
like pathways cut through a forest. They wind and turn in so singular a
manner, and resemble each other so much, that a stranger would have
difficulty to make way amongst them. We visited Moor Park (not the house
of Sir William Temple, but that where the Duke and Duchess of Monmouth
lived). Having rather a commanding situation, you look down on the
valley, which, being divided into small enclosures bordered with wood,
resembles a forest when so looked down on. The house has a handsome
entrance-hall, painted by Sir James Thornhill, in a very French taste,
yet handsome. He was Hogarth's father-in-law, and not easily reconciled
to the match. Thornhill's paintings are certainly not of the first
class, yet the practice of painting the walls and roof of a
dwelling-house gives, in my eyes, a warm and rich air to the apartments.
Lord Grosvenor has now bought this fine place, once Lord Anson's--hence
the Moor Park apricot is also called Ansoniana. After seeing Moor Park
we went to the Grove, the Earl of Clarendon's country-seat. The house
looks small and of little consequence, but contains many good portraits,
as I was told, of the Hyde family.[217] The park has fine views and
magnificent trees.

We went to Cashiobury, belonging to the Earl of Essex, an old mansion,
apparently, with a fine park. The Colne runs through the grounds, or
rather creeps through them.

    "For the Colne
    Is black and swollen,
      Snake-like, he winds his way,
    Unlike the burns
    From Highland urns
      That dance by crag and brae."

Borthwick-brae[218] came to dinner from town, and we had a very pleasant
evening. My excellent old friend reminded me of the old and bitter feud
between the Scotts and the Haliburtons, and observed it was curious I
should have united the blood of two hostile clans.

_May_ 28.--We took leave of our kind old host after breakfast, and set
out for our own land. Our elegant researches carried us out of the
high-road and through a labyrinth of intricate lanes,--which seem made
on purpose to afford strangers the full benefit of a dark night and a
drunk driver,--in order to visit Gill's Hill, famous for the murder of
Mr. Weare.

The place has the strongest title to the description of Wordsworth:--

    "A merry spot, 'tis said, in days of yore,
    But something ails it now--- the place is cursed."

The principal part of the house has been destroyed, and only the kitchen
remains standing. The garden has been dismantled, though a few laurels
and garden shrubs, run wild, continue to mark the spot. The fatal pond
is now only a green swamp, but so near the house that one cannot
conceive how it was ever chosen as a place of temporary concealment of
the murdered body. Indeed the whole history of the murder, and the
scenes which ensued, are strange pictures of desperate and short-sighted
wickedness. The feasting--the singing--the murderer with his hands
still bloody hanging round the neck of one of the females--the
watch-chain of the murdered man, argue the utmost apathy. Even Probert,
the most frightened of the party, fled no further for relief than to the
brandy bottle, and is found in the very lane, and at the spot of the
murder, seeking for the murderous weapon, and exposing himself to the
view of the passengers. Another singular mark of stupid audacity was
their venturing to wear the clothes of their victim. There was a want of
foresight in the whole arrangement of the deed, and the attempts to
conceal it, which argued strange inconsideration, which a professed
robber would not have exhibited. There was just one single shade of
redeeming character about a business so brutal, perpetrated by men above
the very lowest rank of life--it was the mixture of revenge which
afforded some relief to the circumstances of treachery and premeditation
which accompanied it. But Weare was a cheat, and had no doubt pillaged
Thurtell, who therefore deemed he might take greater liberties with him
than with others.

The dirt of the present habitation equalled its wretched desolation, and
a truculent-looking hag, who showed us the place, and received
half-a-crown, looked not unlike the natural inmate of such a mansion.
She indicated as much herself, saying the landlord had dismantled the
place because no respectable person would live there. She seems to live
entirely alone, and fears no ghosts, she says.

One thing about this mysterious tragedy was never explained. It is said
that Weare, as is the habit of such men, always carried about his
person, and between his flannel waistcoat and shirt, a sum of ready
money, equal to £1500 or £2000. No such money was ever recovered, and as
the sum divided by Thurtell among his accomplices was only about £20, he
must, in slang phrase, have _bucketed his pals_.[219]

We came on as far as Alconbury, where we slept comfortably.

_May_ 29.--We travelled from Alconbury Hill to Ferry Bridge, upwards of
a hundred miles, amid all the beauties of "flourish" and verdure which
spring awakens at her first approach in the midland counties of England,
but without any variety save those of the season's making. I do believe
this great north road is the dullest in the world, as well as the most
convenient for the traveller. Nothing seems to me to have been altered
within twenty or thirty years, save the noses of the landlords, which
have bloomed and given place to another set of proboscises as germane us
the old ones to the _very welcome_,--_please to light_--_'Orses
forward,_ and _ready out_. The skeleton at Barnby Moor has deserted his
gibbet, and that is the only change I recollect.

I have amused myself to-day with reading Lockhart's _Life of Burns_,
which is very well written--in fact, an admirable thing. He has
judiciously slurred over his vices and follies; for although Currie, I
myself, and others, have not said a word more on that subject than is
true, yet as the dead corpse is straightened, swathed, and made decent,
so ought the character of such an inimitable genius as Burns to be
tenderly handled after death. The knowledge of his vicious weaknesses or
vices is only a subject of sorrow to the well-disposed, and of triumph
to the profligate.

_May_ 30.--We left Ferry Bridge at seven, and turning westwards, or
rather northwestward, at Borough Bridge, we roach Rokeby at past three.
A mile from the house we met Morritt looking for us. I had great
pleasure at finding myself at Rokeby, and recollecting a hundred
passages of past time. Morritt looks well and easy in his mind, which I
am delighted to see. He is now one of my oldest, and, I believe, one of
my most sincere, friends, a man unequalled in the mixture of sound good
sense, high literary cultivation, and the kindest and sweetest temper
that ever graced a human bosom. His nieces are much attached to him,
and are deserving and elegant, as well as beautiful young women. What
there is in our partiality to female beauty that commands a species of
temperate homage from the aged, as well as ecstatic admiration from the
young, I cannot conceive, but it is certain that a very large proportion
of some other amiable quality is too little to counterbalance the
absolute want of this advantage. I, to whom beauty is and shall
henceforth be a picture, still look upon it with the quiet devotion of
an old worshipper, who no longer offers incense on the shrine, but
peaceably presents his inch of taper, taking special care in doing so
not to burn his own fingers. Nothing in life can be more ludicrous or
contemptible than an old man aping the passions of his youth.

Talking of youth, there was a certain professor at Cambridge who used to
keep sketches of all the youths who, from their conduct at college,
seemed to bid fair for distinction in life. He showed them, one day, to
an old shrewd sarcastic Master of Arts, who looked over the collection,
and then observed, "A promising nest of eggs; what a pity the great part
will turn out addle!" And so they do; looking round amongst the young
men, one sees to all appearance fine flourish--but it ripens not.

_May_ 31.--I have finished Napier's _War in the Peninsula_.[220] It is
written in the spirit of a Liberal, but the narrative is distinct and
clear, and I should suppose accurate. He has, however, given a bad
sample of accuracy in the case of Lord Strangford, where his pointed
affirmation has been as pointedly repelled. It is evident he would
require probing. His defence of Moore is spirited and well argued,
though it is evident he defends the statesman as much as the general. As
a Liberal and a military man, Colonel Napier finds it difficult to steer
his course. The former character calls on him to plead for the
insurgent Spaniards; the latter induces him to palliate the cruelties of
the French. Good-even to him until next volume, which I shall long to
see. This was a day of pleasure and nothing else. After breakfast I
walked with Morritt in the new path he has made up the Tees. When last
here, his poor nephew was of the party. It hangs on my mind, and perhaps
on Morritt's. When we returned we took a short drive as far as Barnard
Castle; and the business of eating and drinking took up the remainder of
the evening, excepting a dip into the Greta Walk.

FOOTNOTES:

[183] See _ante_, vol. i. p. 14. Lady Francis Leveson Gower was the
eldest daughter of Charles Greville.

[184] Mr. Lockhart writes:--"Among other songs Mrs. Arkwright delighted
Sir Walter with her own set of--

'Farewell! farewell! the voice you hear Has left its last soft tone with
you; Its next must join the seaward cheer, And shout among the shouting
crew,' etc.

He was sitting by me, at some distance from the lady, and whispered, as
she closed, 'Capital words--whose are they? Byron's, I suppose, but I
don't remember them.' He was astonished when I told him they were his
own in _The Pirate_. He seemed pleased at the moment, but said next
minute, 'You have distressed me--if memory goes, all is up with me, for
that was always my strong point.'"--_Life_, vol. ix. p. 236.

[185] Milton's _L'Allegro,_ ver. 137, 294.

[186] Afterwards second Earl Powis.

[187] Regarding the Chancery business, see _infra_, p. 191, _n_.

[188] Sir Walter had shortly before been one of the contributors to a
subscription for Mr. Haydon. The imprisonment from which the
subscription released the artist produced, I need scarcely say, the
picture mentioned in the Diary.--J.G.L. Haydon died in June 1846. See
his _Life_, 3 vols., 1853, edited by Tom Taylor.

[189] The Duke of Wellington, in after years, said to Lord Mahon, "He
had observed on several occasions that Sir Walter was talked down by
Croker and Bankes! who forgot that we might have them every
day."--_Notes_, p. 100.

[190] _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Sc. 1.

[191] Sir W. Knighton, as a Devonshire man, naturally wished to have the
portrait painted by Northcote, who was a brother Devonian. Cunningham
said of tins picture that the conception was good, and reality given by
the introduction of the painter, palette in hand, putting the finishing
touch to the head of the poet. "The likenesses were considered
good."--_Cunningham's Lives_, vol. vi. p. 124. It was exhibited in 1871
in Edinburgh; its size is 4 ft. 2 in. x 3 ft. 2 in. Mr. David Laing,
differing from Allan Cunningham, considered that the picture presented
"anything but a fortunate likeness." Northcote died July 13th, 1831, in
his eighty-fifth year.

[192] Act III. Sc. 2.

[193] John Fuller, long M.P. for Surrey, an eccentric character, and
looked upon as standing jester to the House of Commons. Scott first met
him in Chantrey's studio in 1820.--See _Life_, vol. vi. pp. 206, 207. He
died in his 77th year, in 1831, without apparently having carried out
his intention of editing Foote.

[194] A process in English copyhold law.

[195] Hazlitt said of Northcote, that talking with him was like
conversing with the dead: "You see a little old man, pale and fragile,
with eyes gleaming like the lights hung in tombs. He seems little better
than a ghost, and hangs wavering and trembling on the very verge of
life; you would think a breath would blow him away, and yet what fine
things he says!"--_Conversations_.

[196] Born 1752, died 1832; Master of the Rolls from 1801 to 1817.

[197] The _Magnum Opus_ was dedicated to George IV.--J.G.L.

[198] Whose son afterwards married Dora, Wordsworth's daughter.

[199] At the last sitting Northcote remarked, "You have often sat for
your portrait?"

"Yes," said Sir Walter; "my dog Maida and I have sat frequently--so
often that Maida, who had little philosophy, conceived such a dislike to
painters, that whenever he saw a man take out a pencil and paper, and
look at him, he set up a howl, and ran off to the Eildon Hill. His
unfortunate master, however well he can howl, was never able to run
much; he was therefore obliged to abide the event. Yes, I have
frequently sat for my picture."--Cunningham's _Painters_, vol. vi. pp.
125-6.

[200] See _ante_, May 1st, p. 170, note.

[201] Mr. Ellis, afterwards created Baron Dover, was the author of
_Historical Inquiries into the Character of Lord Clarendon_. 8vo, Lond.,
1827.

[202] Sir F. Chantrey was at this time executing his _second_ bust of
Sir Walter--that ordered by Sir Robert Peel, and which is now at
Drayton.--J.G.L.

[203] Lady Shelley of Maresfield Park. Mr. Lockhart says the young lady
was Miss Shelley, who became in 1834 the Hon. Mrs. George Edgcumbe.

[204] Scott had dined at Holland House in 1806, but in consequence of
some remarks by Lord Holland in the House of Lords in 1810, on Thomas
Scott's affairs, there had apparently been no renewal of the
acquaintanceship until now.

[205] See _Miscellaneous Prose Works_, vol. iv. p. 20.

[206] David Hinves, Mr. W. Stewart Rose's faithful and affectionate
attendant, furnished Scott with some hints for his picture of Davie
Gellatly in _Waverley_.

Mr. Lockhart tells us that Hinves was more than forty years in Mr.
Rose's service; he had been a bookbinder by trade and a preacher among
the Methodists.

"A sermon heard casually under a tree in the New Forest contained such
touches of good feeling and broad humour that Rose promoted the preacher
to be his valet on the spot. He was treated more like a friend than a
servant by his master and by all his master's intimate friends. Scott
presented him with all his works; and Coleridge gave him a corrected (or
rather an altered) copy of _Christabel_ with this inscription on the
fly-leaf: 'Dear Hinves,--Till this book is concluded, and with it
_Gundimore_, a poem by the same "author," accept of this _corrected_
copy of _Christabel_ as a _small_ token of regard; yet such a
testimonial as I would not pay to any one I did not esteem, though he
were an emperor.

"'Be assured I will send you for your private library every work I have
published (if there be any to be had) and whatever I shall publish. Keep
steady to the FAITH. If the fountainhead be always full, the stream
cannot be long empty.--Yours sincerely, S.T. COLERIDGE.

"'11 _November_ 1816, _Mudford.'"--Life,_ vol. iv. pp. 397-8.

Hinves died in Mr. Rose's service _circa_ 1838, and his master followed
him on the 30th April 1843, a few weeks after his friend Morritt.

[207] An analysis of these letters was published by Mr. Lockhart in the
_Life_, vol. vi. pp. 346-386.

[208] Created Earl of Leicester in 1837.

[209] It is worth noting that Sir Walter first wrote "grasp"--and then
deleted the word in favour of the technical term--"fathom."