We met at Barry's,[393] and had a gallant dinner, but only few of our
number was present. Alas! sixty does not rally to such meetings with the
alacrity of sixteen, and our Club has seen the space between these
terms. I was home and abed when Charles arrived and waked me. Poor
fellow! he is doing very well with his rheumatic limbs.

_July_ 6.--I did little this morning but correct some sheets, and was at
the Court all morning. About two I called at Mr. Cadell's, and I learned
the dividend was arranged. Sir Adam fell in with us, and laid anchors to
windward to get an invitation to Cockenzie for next year, being struck
with my life-like description of a tiled haddock. I came home much
fagged, slept for half-an-hour (I don't like this lethargy), read _I
Promessi Sposi_, and was idle. Miss Kerr dined and gave us music.

_July_ 7.--This morning corrected proofs, with which J.B. proceeds
lazily enough, and alleges printing reasons, of which he has plenty at
hand. Though it was the Teind Wednesday the devil would have it that
this was a Court of Session day also for a cause of mine; so there I sat
hearing a dozen cases of augmentation of stipend pleaded, and wondering
within myself whether anything can be predicated of a Scottish parish,
in which there cannot be discovered a reason for enlarging the
endowments of the minister. I returned after two, with a sousing shower
for companion; I got very wet and very warm. But shall we go mourn for
that, my dear?[394] I rather like a flaw of weather; it shows something
of the old man is left. I had Mr. Buchanan to help pack my papers and
things, and got through part of that unpleasant business.

_July_ 8.--I had my letters as usual, but no proofs till I was just
going out. Returning from the Court met Skene, who brought me news that
our visit was at an end for Saturday, poor Colin having come to town
very unwell. I called to see him, and found him suffering under a degree
of slow palsy, his spirits depressed, and his looks miserable, worse a
great deal than when I last saw him. His wife and daughter were in the
room, dreadfully distressed. We spoke but a few words referring to
recovery and better days, which, I suspect, neither of us hoped.[395]
For I looked only on the ghost of my friend of many a long day; and he,
while he said to see me did him good, must have had little thought of
our meeting under better auspices. We shall, of course, go straight to
Abbotsford, instead of travelling by Harcus as we intended.

_July_ 9.--Two distressed damsels on my hands, one, a friend of Harriet
Swinton, translates from the Italian a work on the plan of _I Promessi
Sposi_, but I fear she must not expect much from the trade. A
translation with them is a mere translation--that is, a thing which can
be made their own at a guinea per sheet, and they will not have an
excellent one at a higher rate. Second is Miss Young, daughter of the
excellent Dr. Young of Hawick. If she can, from her father's letters and
memoranda, extract materials for a fair simple account of his life, I
would give my name as editor, and I think it might do, but for a large
publication--Palabras, neighbour Dogberry,[396] the time is by. Dined
with the Bannatyne, where we had a lively party. Touching the songs, an
old _roué_ must own an improvement in the times, when all paw-paw words
are omitted, and naughty innuendos _gazés_. One is apt to say--

    "Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art,
    A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,'
    And such protest of pepper-gingerbread."[397]

I think there is more affectation than improvement in the new mode.

_July_ 10.--Rose rather late: the champagne and turtle, I suppose, for
our reform includes no fasting. Then poor Ardwell came to breakfast;
then Dr. Young's daughter. I have projected with Cadell a plan of her
father's life, to be edited by me.[398] If she does but tolerably, she
may have a fine thing of it. Next came the Court, where sixty judgments
were pronounced and written by the Clerks, I hope all correctly, though
an error might well happen in such a crowd, and----, one of the best men
possible, is beastly stupid. Be that as it may, off came Anne, Charles,
and I for Abbotsford. We started about two, and the water being too deep
didn't arrive till past seven; dinner, etc., filled up the rest of the
day.

_July_ 11, _Abbotsford_.--Corrected my proofs and the lave of it till
about one o'clock. Then started for a walk to Chiefswood, which I will
take from station to station,[399] with a book in my pouch. I have begun
_Lawrie Todd_, which ought, considering the author's undisputed talents,
to have been better. He might have laid Cooper aboard, but he follows
far behind. No wonder: Galt, poor fellow, was in the King's Bench when
he wrote it. No whetter of genius is necessity, though said to be the
mother of invention.

_July_ 12.--Another wet day, but I walked twice up and down the terrace,
and also wrote a handsome scrap of copy, though mystified by the want of
my books, and so forth. Dr. and Mrs. Lockhart and Violet came to
luncheon and left us to drive on to Peebles. I read and loitered and
longed to get my things in order. Got to work, however, at seven in the
morning.

_July_ 13.--Now "what a thing it is to be an ass!"[400] I have a letter
from a certain young man, of a sapient family, announcing that his
sister had so far mistaken my attentions as to suppose I was only
prevented by modesty from stating certain wishes and hopes, etc. The
party is a woman of rank: so far my vanity may be satisfied. But to
think I would wish to appropriate a grim grenadier made to mount guard
at St. James's! The Lord deliver me! I excused myself with little
picking upon the terms, and there was no occasion for much delicacy in
repelling such an attack.

_July_ 14.--The Court of Session Bill is now committed in the House of
Lords, so it fairly goes on this season, and I have, I suppose, to look
for my _congé_. I can hardly form a notion of the possibility that I am
not to return to Edinburgh. My clerk Buchanan came here, and assists me
to finish the _Demonology Letters_, and be d--d to them. But it is done
to their hand. Two ladies, Mrs. Latouche of Dublin, and her niece, Miss
Boyle, came to spend a day or two. The aunt is a fine old lady; the
conversation that of a serious person frightened out of her wits by the
violence and superstition of our workers of miracles in the west.[401]
Miss Boyle is a pretty young woman, rather quiet for an Irish lass.

_July_ 16.--We visited at Lessudden yesterday, and took Mrs. Latouche
thither. To-day, as they had left us, we went alone to Major John's
house of Ravenswood and engaged a large party of cousins to dine
to-morrow.

In the evening a party of foreigners came around the door, and going out
I found Le Comte Ladislaus de Potocki, a great name in Poland, with his
lady and brother-in-law, so offered wine, coffee, tea, etc. The lady is
strikingly pretty. If such a woman as she had taken an affection for a
lame baronet, nigh sixty years old, it would be worth speaking about! I
have finished the _Demonology_.[402]

_July_ 17.--Another bad day, wet past all efforts to walk, and
threatening a very bad harvest. Persecuted with begging letters; an
author's Pegasus is like a post-chaise leaving the door of the inn: the
number of beggars is uncountable. The language they hold of my character
for charity makes my good reputation as troublesome as that of Joseph
Surface.[403] A dinner of cousins, the young Laird of Raeburn, so he
must be called, though nearly as old as I am, at their head. His brother
Robert, who has been in India for forty years, excepting one short
visit: a fine manly fellow, who has belled the cat with fortune, and
held her at bay as a man of mould may. Being all kinsmen and friends, we
made a merry day of our re-union. All left at night.

_July_ 18.--

    "Time runs, I know not how, away."

Here am I beginning the second week of my vacation--though what needs me
note that?--vacation and session will probably be the same to me in the
future. The long remove must then be looked to, for the final signal to
break up, and that is a serious thought.

I have corrected two sets of proofs, one for the mail, another for the
Blucher to-morrow.

     [_No entry between July 18 and September 5_.]

     [Mr. Lockhart remarks that it was during this interval that the
     highest point of his recovery was reached. The following little
     note accompanied the review of Southey's _Bunyan_ to Chiefswood on
     August 6th:---

     "Dear Lockhart, I send you the enclosed. I intended to have brought
     it myself with help of 'Daddy Dun,' but I find the weather is
     making a rain of it to purpose.

     "I suppose you are all within doors, and the little gardeners all
     off work.--Yours, W.S."]

     A playful yet earnest petition, showing Sir Walter's continued
     solicitude for the welfare of the good 'Dominie Sampson,' was also
     written at this time to the Duke of Buccleuch:--

     "ABBOTSFORD, _20th August_.

     "The minister of ------ having fallen among other black cocks of
     the season, emboldens me once more to prefer my humble request in
     favour of George Thomson, long tutor in this family. His case is so
     well known to your Grace that I would be greatly to blame if I
     enlarged upon it. His morals are irreproachable, his talents very
     respectable. He has some oddity of manner, but it is far from
     attaching to either the head or the heart....

     "It would be felt by me among one of the deepest obligations of the
     many which I owe to the house of Buccleuch. I daresay your Grace
     has shot a score of black game to-day. Pray let your namesake bag a
     parson."

FOOTNOTES:

[390] An amusing illustration of the difficulty of seeing ourselves as
others see us may be found written twenty-five years later by Nathaniel
Hawthorne, where the author of the _Scarlet Letter_ expresses in like
manner his surprise at the want of refinement in Englishmen:--"I had
been struck by the very rough aspect of these John Bulls in their
morning garb, their coarse frock-coats, grey hats, check trousers, and
stout shoes; at dinner-table it was not at first easy to recognise the
same individuals.... But after a while, 'you see the same rough figure
through all the finery, and become sensible that John Bull cannot make
himself fine, whatever he may put on. He is a rough animal, and his
female is well adapted to him.'"--_Hawthorne and His Wife_, vol. ii. p.
70. 2 vols. 8vo. Cambridge, U.S.A., 1884.

[391] Architects style it Elizabethan, but Sir Walter's term is not
inappropriate.

[392] An amanuensis who was employed by Scott at this time.

[393] British Hotel, 70 Queen St.

[394] See _Winter's Tale_, Act IV. Sc. 2.

[395] See _ante_, January 15, 1828, p. 111. Mr. Mackenzie of Portmore
died in September 1830, when Sir Walter wrote Mr. Skene the following
letter:--

"DEAR SKENE,--I observe from the papers that our invaluable friend is no
more. I have reason to think, that as I surmised when I saw him last,
the interval has been a melancholy one, at least to those who had to
watch the progress. I never expected to see his kind face more, after I
took leave of him in Charlotte Square; yet the certainty that such must
be the case is still a painful shock, as I can never hope again to meet,
during the remaining span of my own life, a friend in whom high talents
for the business of life were more happily mingled with all those
affections which form the dearest part of human intercourse. In that
respect I believe his like hardly is to be found. I hope Mrs. Skene and
you will make my assurance of deep sympathy, of which they know it is
expressed by a friend of poor Colin of fifty years' standing.

"I hope my young friend, his son, will keep his father's example before
his eyes. His best friend cannot wish him a better model.

"I am just setting off to the West for a long-promised tour of a week. I
shall be at Abbotsford after Monday, 27th current, and I hope Mrs. Skene
and you, with some of our young friends, will do us the pleasure to come
here for a few days. We see how separations may happen among friends,
and should not neglect the opportunity of being together while we can.
Besides, _entre nous_, it is time to think what is to be done about the
Society, as the time of my retirement draws nigh, and I am determined,
at whatever loss, not to drag out the last sands of my life in that
sand-cart of a place, the Parliament House. I think it hurt poor Colin.
This is, however, subject for future consideration, as I have not
breathed a syllable about resigning the Chair to any one, but it must
soon follow as a matter of course.[C]

"Should you think of writing to let me know how the distressed family
are, you may direct, during the beginning of next week, to Drumlanrig,
Thornhill, Dumfriesshire.

"My kind love attends my dear Mrs. Skene, girls, boys, and all the
family, and I am, always yours,

"WALTER SCOTT.

"ABBOTSFORD, _18th September_ [1830]."

[C] Sir Walter had been President of the Royal Society of Edinburgh for
some years; his resignation was not accepted, and he retained the office
until he died.

[396] _Much Ado about Nothing_, Act III. Sc. 5.

[397] 1 _King Henry IV._, Act III. Sc. 1.

[398] The biography here spoken of was not published.

[399] Sir Walter had seats placed at suitable distances between the
house and Chiefswood.

[400] _Titus Andronicus_, Act IV. Sc. 2.

[401] For an account of these "miracles" see _Peace in Believing_--a
memoir of Isabella Campbell of Fernicarry. Roseneath, 8vo, 1829.

[402] _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, addressed to J.G.
Lockhart, Esq., was published before the end of the year in Murray's
_Family Library_.

[403] _School for Scandal_.




SEPTEMBER


_September_ 5.--In spite of resolution I have left my Diary for some
weeks, I cannot tell why. We have had the usual number of travelling
Counts and Countesses, Yankees male and female, and a
Yankee-Doodle-Dandy into the bargain, a smart young Virginia man. We
have had friends of our own also, the Miss Ardens, young Mrs. Morritt
and Anne Morritt, most agreeable visitors.[404] Cadell came out here
yesterday with his horn filled with good news. This will in effect put
an end to the trust; only the sales and produce must be pledged to
insure the last £15,000 and the annuity interest of £600. In this way
Mr. Cadell will become half-partner in the remaining volumes of the
books following _St. Ronan's_; with all my heart, but he must pay well
for it, for it is good property. Neither is any value stated for
literary profits; yet, four years should have four novels betwixt
1830-4. This at £2500 per volume might be £8000, which would diminish
Mr. Cadell's advance considerably. All this seems feasible enough, so my
fits of sullen alarm are ill placed. It makes me care less about the
terms I retire upon. The efforts by which we have advanced thus far are
new in literature, and what is gained is secure.

     [_No entry between September 5 and December 20_.]


FOOTNOTES:

[404] Sir Walter had written to Morritt on his retirement from the Court
of Session, and his old friend responded in the following cordial
letter:--

"_November, 1830_.

"MY DEAR SCOTT,--... I am sorry to read what you tell me of your
lameness, but legs are not so obedient to many of us at our age as they
were twenty years ago, _non immunes ab illis malis sumus_, as the
learned Partridge and Lilly's Grammar tells us. I find mine swell, and
am forced to bandage, and should not exert them with impunity in walking
as I used to do, either in long walks or in rough ground. I am glad,
however, you have escaped from the Court of Session, even at the risk of
sometimes feeling the want you allude to of winter society. You think
you shall tire of solitude in these months: and in spite of books and
the love of them, I have discovered by experience the possibility of
such a feeling; but can we not in some degree remedy this? Why should we
both be within two days' march of each other and not sometimes together,
as of old? How I have enjoyed in your house the _summum bonum_ of Sir
Wm. Temple's philosophy, 'something which is not Home and yet with the
liberty of Home, which is not Solitude, and yet hath the ease of
Solitude, and which is only found in the house of an old friend.' Our
summer months are well provided with summer friends. You have plenty and
to spare of sightseers, Lions, and their hunters, and I have travellers,
moor-shooters, etc., in equal abundance, but now when the country is
abandoned, and Walter is leaving you, how I wish you would bring dear
Anne and partake for a while our little circle here--we stir not till
Christmas--if before that time such a pleasure could be attainable.
Well, then, for auld lang syne, will you not, now that the Session has
no claim on you, combine our forces against the possibility of _ennui_.
If you will do this, I will positively, and in good faith, hold myself
in readiness to do as much by you in the next November, and in every
alternate November, nor shall the month ever pass without bringing us
together. Do not tell me, as Wm. Rose would not fail to do if I gave him
so good an opportunity, that my proposal would be a greater bore than
the solitude it destroyed. It shall be no such thing, but only the
trouble of a journey. I feel too, as I grow older, the _vis inertiæ_,
and fancy that locomotion is more difficult, but let us abjure the
doctrine, for it baulks much pleasure. Pray--pray as the children
say--come to us, think of it first as not impossible, then weigh fairly
the objections, and if they resolve themselves into mere aversion to
change, overcome them by an assurance that the very change will give
value to the resumption of your home avocations. If I plead thus
strongly, perhaps it is because I feel the advantage to myself. Time has
made gaps in the list of old friends as in yours; young ones, though
very cheering and useful, are not, and cannot be, the same. I enjoy them
too when present, but in absence I regret the others. What remains but
to make the most of those we have still left when both body and mind
permit us [to enjoy] them. I have books; also a room that shall [be your
own], and a [pony] off which I can shoot, which I will engage shall
neither tumble himself or allow you to tumble in any excursion on which
you may venture. Dear Anne will find and make my womenkind as happy as
you will make me, and we have only to beg you to stay long and be most
cordially welcome. ... Adieu, dear Scott. I fear you will not come for
all I can say. I could almost lose a tooth or a finger (if it were
necessary) to find myself mistaken. Come, and come soon; stay long; be
assured of welcome.

"All unite in this and in love to you and Anne, with your assured
friend,

J.B. MORRITT."




DECEMBER.


_December_ 20.--From September 5 to December 20 is a long gap, and I
have seen plenty of things worth recollecting, had I marked them down
when they were gliding past. But the time has gone by. When I feel
capable of taking it up, I will.

Little self will jostle out everything else, and my affairs, which in
some respects are excellent, in others, like the way of the world, are
far from being pleasant.

Of good I have the pleasure of saying I have my children well, and in
good health. The dividend of 3s. in the pound has been made to the
creditors, and the creditors have testified their sense of my labours by
surrendering my books, furniture, plate, and curiosities. I see some
friends of mine think this is not handsomely done. In my opinion it is
extremely so. There are few things so [easy] as to criticise the good
things one does, and to show that we ourselves would have done [more]
handsomely. But those who know the world and their own nature are always
better pleased with one kind action carried through and executed, than
with twenty that only glide through their minds, while perhaps they
tickle the imagination of the benevolent Barmecide who supposes both the
entertainment and the eater. These articles do not amount to less than
£10,000 at least, and, without dispensing with them entirely, might
furnish me with a fund for my younger children.[405] Now, suppose these
creditors had not seriously carried their purpose into execution, the
transaction might have been afterwards challenged, and the ease of mind
which it produced to me must have been uncertain in comparison. Well!
one-half of these claims are cleared off, furnished in a great measure
by one-half issue of the present edition of the Waverley Novels, which
had reached the 20th of the series.

It cannot be expected that twenty more will run off so fast; the later
volumes are less favourites, and are really less interesting. Yet when I
read them over again since their composition, I own I found them
considerably better than I expected, and I think, if other circumstances
do not crush them and blight their popularity, they will make their way.
Mr. Cadell is still desirous to acquire one-half of the property of this
part of the work, which is chiefly my own. He proposes assembling all my
detached works of fiction and articles in Annuals, so that the whole,
supposing I write, as is proposed, six new volumes, will run the
collection to fifty, when it is time to close it. Between cash advanced
on this property, and a profit on the sale of the second part, Mr.
Cadell thinks, having taken a year or two years' time, to gather a
little wind into the bag, I will be able to pay, on my part, a further
sum of £30,000, or the moiety remaining of the whole debts, amounting
now to less than £60,000.

Should this happy period arrive in or about the year 1832 the heavy work
will be wellnigh finished. Tor, although £30,000 will still remain, yet
there is £20,000 actually secured upon my life, and the remaining
£10,000 is set against the sale of _Waverley_, which shall have been
issued; besides which there is the whole Poetry, _Bonaparte_, and
several other articles, equally [available] in a short time to pay up
the balance, and afford a very large reversion.

This view cannot be absolutely certain, but it is highly probable, and
is calculated in the manner in which Building Schemes [are dealt with],
and is not merely visionary. The year 1833 may probably see me again in
possession of my estate.

A circumstance of great consequence to my habits and comforts was my
being released from the Court of Session on November 1830 (18th day). My
salary, which was £1300, was reduced to £840. My friends, just then
leaving office, were desirous to patch up the deficiency with a pension.
I do not see well how they could do this without being exposed to
obloquy, which they shall not be on my account. Besides, though £500 a
year is a round sum, yet I would rather be independent than I would have
it.

My kind friend the Lord Chief Commissioner offered to interfere to have
me named a Privy Councillor; but besides that when one is poor he ought
to avoid taking rank, I would be much happier if I thought any act of
kindness was done to help forward Charles; and, having said so much, I
made my bow, and declared my purpose of remaining satisfied with the
article of my knighthood. And here I am, for the rest of my life I
suppose, with a competent income, which I can [increase].

All this is rather pleasing, nor have I the least doubt that I could
make myself easy by literary labour. But much of it looks like winding
up my bottom for the rest of my life. But there is a worse symptom of
settling accounts, of which I have felt some signs.

Last spring, Miss Young, the daughter of Dr. Young, had occasion to call
on me on some business, in which I had hopes of serving her. As I
endeavoured to explain to her what I had to say, I had the horror to
find I could not make myself understood. I stammered, stuttered, said
one word in place of another--did all but speak; Miss Young went away
frightened enough, poor thing; and Anne and Violet Lockhart were much
alarmed. I was bled with cupping-glasses, took medicine, and lived on
panada; but in two or three days I was well again. The physicians
thought, or said at least, that the evil was from the stomach. It is
very certain that I have seemed to speak with an impediment, and I was,
or it might be fancied myself, troubled with a mispronouncing and
hesitation. I felt this particularly at the Election, and sometimes in
society. This went on till last November, when Lord ------ came out to
make me a visit. I had for a long time taken only one tumbler of whisky
and water without the slightest reinforcement. This night I took a very
little drop, not so much as a bumper glass, of whisky altogether. It
made no difference on my head that I could discover, but when I went to
the dressing-room I sank stupefied on the floor. I lay a minute or
two--was not found, luckily, gathered myself up, and got to my bed. I
was alarmed at this second warning, consulted Abercrombie and Ross, and
got a few restrictive orders as to diet. I am forced to attend to them;
for, as Mrs. Cole says, "Lack-a-day! a thimbleful oversets me."

To add to these feelings I have the constant increase of my lameness:
the thigh-joint, knee-joint, and ankle-joint.

_December_ 21.--I walk with great pain in the whole limb, and am at
every minute, during an hour's walk, reminded of my mortality. I should
not care for all this, if I was sure of dying handsomely. Cadell's
calculations would be sufficiently firm though the author of _Waverly_
had pulled on his last nightcap. Nay, they might be even more
trustworthy, if Remains, and Memoirs, and such like, were to give a zest
to the posthumous. But the fear is the blow be not sufficient to destroy
life, and that I should linger on an idiot and a show.[406]....

We parted on good terms and hopes.[407] But, fall back, fall edge,
nothing shall induce me to publish what I do not think advantageous to
the community, or suppress what is.

_December_ 23.--To add for this day to the evil thereof, I am obliged to
hold a Black-fishing Court at Selkirk. This is always a very unpopular
matter in one of our counties, as the salmon never do get up to the
heads of the waters in wholesome season, and are there in numbers in
spawning-time. So that for several years during the late period, the
gentry, finding no advantage from preserving the spawning fish,
neglected the matter altogether in a kind of dudgeon, and the peasantry
laid them waste at their will. As the property is very valuable, the
proprietors down the country agreed to afford some additional passage
for fish when the river is open, providing they will protect the
spawning fish during close-time. A new Act has been passed, with heavy
penalties and summary powers of recovery. Some persons are cited under
it to-day; and a peculiar licence of poaching having distinguished the
district of late years, we shall be likely to have some disturbance.
They have been holding a meeting for reform in Selkirk, and it will be
difficult to teach them that this consists in anything else save the
privilege of obeying only such laws as please them. We shall see, but I
would have counselled the matter to have been delayed for a little
season. I shall do my duty, however. Do what is right, come what will.

Six black-fishers were tried, four were condemned. All went very quietly
till the conclusion, when one of the criminals attempted to break out. I
stopped him for the time with my own hand.[408] But after removing him
from the Court-house to the jail he broke from the officers, who are
poor feeble old men, the very caricature of peace officers.

_December_ 24.--This morning my old acquaintance and good friend Miss
Bell Ferguson died after a short illness: an old friend, and a woman of
the most excellent condition. The last two or almost three years were
very sickly.

A bitter cold day. Anne drove me over to Huntly Burn to see the family.
I found Colonel Ferguson and Captain John, R.N., in deep affliction,
expecting Sir Adam hourly. Anne sets off to Mertoun, and I remain alone.
I wrote to Walter about the project of making my succession in movables.
J.B. sent me praises of the work I am busy with.[409] But I suspect a
little _supercherie_, though he protests not. He is going to the country
without sending me the political article. But he shall either set up or
return it, as I won't be tutored by any one in what I do or forbear.

_December_ 25.--I have sketched a political article on a union of Tories
and an Income Tax. But I will not show my teeth if I find I cannot bite.
Arrived at Mertoun, and found with the family Sir John Pringle, Major
Pringle, and Charles Baillie. Very pleasant music by the Miss Pringles.

_December_ 26, [_Mertoun_].--Prayers after breakfast, being Sunday.
Afterwards I shut myself up in Mr. Scott's room.

He has lately become purchaser of his grandfather's valuable library,
which was collected by Pope's Lord Marchmont. Part of it is a very
valuable collection of tracts during the great Civil War. I spent
several hours in turning them over, but I could not look them through
with any accuracy. I passed my time very pleasantly, and made some
extracts, however, and will resume my research another day.

Major Pringle repeated some pretty verses of his own composing.

I had never a more decided inclination to go loose, yet I know I had
better keep quiet.

_December_ 27, [_Abbotsford_].--Commences snow, and extremely bitter
cold. When I returned from Mertoun, half-frozen, I took up the _Magnum_,
and began to notify the romance called _Woodstock_, in which I got some
assistance from Harden's ancient tracts. I ought rather to get on with
_Robert of Paris_; but I have had all my life a longing to do something
else when I am called to particular labour,--a vile contradictory humour
which I cannot get rid of. Well, I can work at something, so at the
_Magnum_ work I. The day was indeed broken, great part having been
employed in the return from Mertoun.

_December_ 28.--Drove down to Huntly Burn. Sir Adam very melancholy, the
death of his sister having come with a particular and shocking surprise
upon him. After half-an-hour's visit I returned and resumed the
_Magnum_.

_December_ 29.--Attended poor Miss Bell Ferguson's funeral. I sat by the
Rev. Mr. Thomson. Though ten years younger than me, I found the barrier
between him and me much broken down. We remember it though with more or
less accuracy. We took the same old persons for subjects of
correspondence of feeling and sentiment. The difference of ten years is
little after sixty has passed. In a cold day I saw poor Bell laid in her
cold bed. Life never parted with a less effort. Letter from Cadell
offering to advance on second series French Tales. This will come in
good time, and keep me easy. He proposes views for the _Magnum_. I fear
politics may disappoint them.

_December_ 30.--Meeting at Selkirk to-day about the new road to
Galashiels. It was the largest meeting I ever saw in Selkirkshire. We
gain the victory by no less than 14 to 4. I was named one of the
committee to carry the matter on, so in gaining my victory I think I
have caught a Tartar, for I have taken on trouble enough. Some
company,--Lord Napier, Scotts of Harden, Johnstone of Alva, Major
Pringle. In the evening had some private conversation with H.F.S. and
R.J., and think there is life in a mussel. More of this hereafter.

_December_ 31.--My two young friends left this morning, but not without
renewing our conversation of last night. We carried on the little
amusements of the day, and spent our Hogmanay pleasantly enough, in
spite of very bad auguries.

FOOTNOTES:

[405] See _Life_, vol. x. pp. 10-25.

[406]

"From Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires a
driveller and a show."--Johnson's _Vanity of Human Wishes_.



[407] Mr. Cadell and Mr. Ballantyne had arrived at Abbotsford on the
18th, bringing with them the good news from Edinburgh of the payment of
the second dividend, and of the handsome conduct of the creditors. There
had been a painful discussion between them and Sir Walter during the
early part of the winter on _Count Robert of Paris_, particulars of
which are given in _the Life_ (vol. x. pp. 6, 10-17, 21-23), but they
found their host much better than they had ventured to anticipate, and
he made the gift of his library the chief subject of conversation during
the evening. Next morning Mr. Ballantyne was asked to read aloud a
political essay on Reform--intended to be a _Fourth Epistle of Malachi_.
After careful consideration, the critical arbiters concurred in
condemning the production, but suggested a compromise. His friends left
him on the 21st, and the essay, though put in type, was never published.
Proof and MS. were finally consigned to the flames!--_Life_, vol. x. pp.
21-25.

[408] An account of this incident is given by an eye-witness, Mr. Peter
Rodger, Procurator-Fiscal, who says: "The prisoner, thinking it a good
chance of escaping, made a movement in direction of the door. This Sir
Walter detected in time to descend from the Bench and place himself in
the desperate man's path. 'Never!' said he; 'if you do, it will be over
the body of an old man.' Whereupon the other officials of the Court came
to the Sheriff's assistance and the prisoner was
secured."--Craig-Brown's _Selkirkshire_, vol. ii. p. 141.

[409] _Count Robert of Paris_.




1831.




JANUARY.


_January_ 1, 1831.--I cannot say the world opens pleasantly with me this
new year. I will strike the balance. There are many things for which I
have reason to be thankful.

_First_.--Cadell's plans seem to have succeeded, and he augurs well as
to the next two years, reckoning £30,000 on the stuff now on hand, and
£20,000 on the insurance money, and £10,000 to be borrowed somehow. This
will bring us wonderfully home.

_Second_.--Cadell is of opinion if I meddle in politics, and I am
strongly tempted to do so, I shall break the milk-pail, and threatens me
with the fate of Basil Hall, who, as he says, destroyed his reputation
by writing impolitic politics. Well, it would be my risk, and if I can
do some good, which I rather think I can, is it right or manly to keep
myself back?

_Third_.--I feel myself decidedly weaker in point of health, and am now
confirmed I have had a paralytic touch. I speak and read with
embarrassment, and even my handwriting seems to stammer. This general
failure

    "With mortal crisis doth portend,
    My days to appropinque an end."[410]

I am not solicitous about this, only if I were worthy I would pray God
for a sudden death, and no interregnum between I cease to exercise
reason and I cease to exist.

The Scotts of Harden, Pringles of Stitchill, and Russells of Ashestiel,
are all here; I am scarce fit for company though.

_January_ 2.--Held a great palaver with the Scotts, etc.

I find my language apt to fail me; but this is very like to be fancy,
and I must be cautious of giving way to it. This cautions me against
public exertion much more than Cadell's prognostications, which my blood
rises against, and which are ill calculated to keep me in restraint. We
dozed through a gloomy day, being the dullest of all possible thaws.

_January_ 3.--I had a letter from the Lord Chief Commissioner,
mentioning the King's intention to take care of Charles's interests and
promotion in the Foreign Office, an additional reason why I should not
plunge rashly into politics, yet not one which I can understand as
putting a padlock on my lips neither. I may write to L.C.C. that I may
be called on to express an opinion on the impending changes, that I have
an opinion, and a strong one, and that I hope this fresh favour [may not
be regarded] as padlocking my lips at a time when it would otherwise be
proper to me to speak or write. I am shocked to find that I have not the
faculty of delivering myself with facility--an embarrassment which may
be fanciful, but is altogether as annoying as if real.

_January_ 4.--A base, gloomy day, and dispiriting in proportion. I
walked out with Swanston[411] for about an hour: everything gloomy as
the back of the chimney when there is no fire in it. My walk was a
melancholy one, feeling myself weaker at every step and not very able to
speak. This surely cannot be fancy, yet it looks something like it. If I
knew but the extent at which my inability was like to stop, but every
day is worse than another. I have trifled much time, too much; I must
try to get afloat to-morrow, perhaps getting an amanuensis might spur me
on, for one-half is nerves. It is a sad business though.

_January_ 5.--Very indifferent, with more awkward feelings than I can
well bear up against. My voice sunk and my head strangely confused. When
I begin to form my ideas for conversation expressions fail me, even in
private conversation, yet in solitude they are sufficiently arranged. I
incline to hold that these ugly symptoms are the work of imagination;
but, as Dr. Adam Ferguson,[412] a firm man if ever there was one in the
world, said on such an occasion, What is worse than imagination? As Anne
was vexed and frightened, I allowed her to send for young Clarkson. Of
course he could tell but little, save what I knew before.

_January_ 6.--A letter from Henry Scott about the taking ground for
keeping the reform in Scotland upon the Scottish principles. I will
write him my private sentiments, but avoid being a _boute-feu_.

Go this day to Selkirk, where I found about 120 and more persons of that
burgh and Galashiels, who were sworn in as special constables, enough to
maintain the peace. What shocked me particularly was the weakness of my
voice and the confusion of my head attempting to address them, which was
really a poor affair. On my return I found the Rev. Mr. Milne of Quebec,
a friend of my sister-in-law. Another time would have been better for
company, but Captain John Ferguson and Mr. Laidlaw coming in to dinner,
we got over the day well enough.

_January_ 7.--A fine frosty day, and my spirits lighter. I have a letter
of great comfort from Walter, who in a manly, handsome, and dutiful
manner expressed his desire to possess the library and movables of every
kind at Abbotsford, with such a valuation laid upon them as I choose to
impose. This removes the only delay to making my will. Supposing the
literary property to clear the debts by aid of insurances and other
things, about 1835 it will come into my person, and I will appoint the
whole to work off the heritable debt of £10,000. If the literary
property can produce that sum, besides what it has already done, I would
convey it to the three younger children.

_January_ 8.--Spent much time in writing instructions for my last will
and testament. Sent off parcel by Dr. Milne, who leaves to-day. Have up
two boys for shop-lifting. Remained at Galashiels till four o'clock, and
returned starved. Could work none, and was idle all evening--try
to-morrow for a work-day; so loiter on.

_January_ 10.--Went over to Galashiels, and was busied the whole time
till three o'clock about a petty thieving affair, and had before me a
pair of gallows'-birds, to whom I could say nothing for total want of
proof, except, like the sapient Elbow, Thou shalt continue there; know
thou, thou shalt continue.[413] A little gallow brood they were, and
their fate will catch them. Sleepy, idle, and exhausted on this. Wrought
little or none in the evening.

Wrote a long letter to Henry [Scott], who is a fine fellow, and what I
call a heart of gold. He has sound parts, good sense, and is a true man.
Also, I wrote to my excellent friend the Lord Chief [Commissioner]. I
thought it right to say that I accepted with gratitude his Majesty's
goodness, but trusted it was not to bind me to keep my fingers from pen
and ink should a notion impress me that I could help the country. I
walked a little, to my exceeding refreshment. I am using that family
ungratefully. But I will not, for a punctilio, avoid binding, if I can,
a strong party together for the King and country, and if I see I can do
anything, or have a chance of it, I will not fear for the skin-cutting.
It is the selfishness of this generation that drives me mad.

    "A hundred pounds?
    Ha! thou hast touched me nearly."

I will get a parcel copied to-morrow; wrote several letters at night.

_January_ 11.--Wrote and sent off three of my own pages in the morning,
then walked with Swanston. I tried to write before dinner, but, with
drowsiness and pain in my head, made little way. My friend Will Laidlaw
came in to dinner, and after dinner kindly offered his services as
amanuensis. Too happy was I, and I immediately plunged him into the
depths of _Count Robert_, so we got on three or four pages, worth
perhaps double the number of print. I hope it did not take him too
short, but after all to keep the press going without an amanuensis is
impossible, and the publishers may well pay a sponsible person. He comes
back to-morrow. It eases many of my anxieties, and I will stick to it. I
really think Mr. Laidlaw is pleased with the engagement for the time.
Sent off six close pages.

_January_ 12.--I have a visit from Mr. Macdonald the sculptor, who
wishes to model a head of me. He is a gentlemanlike man, and pleasant as
most sculptors and artists of reputation are, yet it is an awful tax
upon time. I must manage to dictate while he models, which will do well
enough.

So there we sat for three hours or four, I sitting on a stool mounted on
a packing-box, for the greater advantage; Macdonald modelling and
plastering away, and I dictating, without interval, to good-natured Will
Laidlaw, who wrought without intermission. It is natural to ask, Do I
progress? but this is too feverish a question. A man carries no scales
about him to ascertain his own value. I always remember the prayer of
Virgil's sailor in extremity:--

    "Non jam prima peto Mnestheus, neque vincere certo;
    Quamquam O!--Sed superent quibus hoc, Neptune, dedisti!
    Extremos pudeat rediisse: hoc vincite, cives,
    Et prohibete nefas!"[414]


We must to our oar; but I think this and another are all that even
success would prompt me to write; and surely those that have been my
defenders

    "Have they so long held out with me untired,
    And stop they now for breath? Well, be it so."[415]

_January_ 13.--Went to Selkirk on the business of the new high road. I
perceive Whytbank and my cousin Colonel Russell of Ashestiel are
disposed to peep into the expenses of next year's outlay, which must be
provided by loan. This will probably breed strife. Wrote a hint of this
to Charles Balfour. Agreed with Smith so far as contracting for the
Bridges at £1200 each. I suspect we are something like the good manager
who distressed herself with buying bargains.

_January_ 15.--Gave the morning from ten till near two to Mr. Macdonald,
who is proceeding admirably with his bust. It is bloody cold work, but
he is an enthusiast and much interested; besides, I can sit and dictate
owing to Mr. Laidlaw, and so get forward, while I am advancing Lorenzo
di Guasco, which is his travelling name. I wrote several letters too,
and got through some business. Walked, and took some exercise between
one and three.

_January_ 16.--Being Sunday, read prayers. Mr. and Mrs. James[416] go to
look for a house, which they desire to take in this country. As Anne is
ill, the presence of strangers, though they are pleasant, is rather
annoying. Macdonald continues working to form a new bust out of my old
scalp. I think it will be the last sitting which I will be enticed to.
Thanks to Heaven, the work finishes to-morrow.[417]

_January_ 17.--This morning, when I came down-stairs, I found Mr.
Macdonald slabbering away at the model. He has certainly great
enthusiasm about his profession, which is a _sine qua non_. It was not
till twelve that a post-chaise carried off my three friends.

I had wrote two hours when Dr. Turner came in, and I had to unfold my
own complaints. I was sick of these interruptions, and dismissed Mr.
Laidlaw, having no hope of resuming my theme with spirit. God send me
more leisure and fewer friends to peck it away by tea-spoonfuls!

Another fool sends to entreat an autograph, which he should be ashamed
in civility to ask, as I am to deny it. I got notice of poor Henry
Mackenzie's death. He has long maintained a niche in Scottish
Literature--gayest of the gay, though most sensitive of the sentimental.

_January_ 18.--Came down from my bedroom at eight, and took a rummage in
the way of putting things to rights. Dictated to Laidlaw till about one
o'clock, during which time it was rainy. Afterwards I walked, sliding
about in the mud, and very uncomfortable. In fact, there is no mistaking
the three sufficients,[418] and Fate is now straitening its
circumvallations round me. Little likely to be better than I am. I am
heart-whole as a biscuit, and may last on as now for eight or ten years;
the thing is not uncommon, considering I am only in my sixtieth year. I
cannot walk; but the intense cold weather may be to blame in this. My
riding is but a scramble, but it may do well enough for exercise; and
though it is unpleasant to find one's enjoyment of hill and vale so much
abridged, yet still when I enjoy my books, and am without acute pain, I
have but little to complain of, considering the life I have led so long.

              "So hap what may;
    Time and the hour run through the roughest day."[419]

Mr. Laidlaw came down at ten, and we wrought till one. This should be a
good thing for an excellent man, and is an important thing to me, as it
saves both my eyesight and nerves, which last are cruelly affected by
finding those "who look out of the windows" grow gradually darker and
darker.[420] Rode out, or more properly, was carried out, into the woods
to see the course of a new road, which may serve to carry off the
thinnings of the trees, and for rides. It is very well lined, and will
serve both for beauty and convenience. Mr. Laidlaw engages to come back
to dinner, and finish two or three more pages. Met my agreeable and
lady-like neighbour, Mrs. Brewster, on my pony, and I was actually
ashamed to be seen by her.

    "Sir Dennis Brand, and on so poor a steed."[421]

I believe detestable folly of this kind is the very last that leaves us.
One would have thought I ought to have little vanity at this time o'
day; but it is an abiding appurtenance of the old Adam, and I write for
penance what, like a fool, I actually felt.

_January_ 19.--Wrote on by Mr. Laidlaw's assistance. Things go bobbishly
enough; we have a good deal finished before dinner. Henry Scott comes to
dine with me _vis-à-vis_, and we have a grand dish of politics. The
friends of old Scotland want but a signal. A certain great lawyer says
that if Sir W.S. wrote another _Malachi_ it would set more men on fire
than a dozen associations. This almost tempts me. But the canny lad says
moreover that to appeal to national partiality, _i.e._ that you should
call on Scotsmen to act like Scotsmen, is unfair, and he would be sorry
it was known he, late and future placeman, should encourage such paw-paw
doings. Yet if Sir W.S. could be got to stand forlorn hope, the legal
gentleman would suggest, etc. etc. Suggest and be d--d. Sir W.S. knows
when to [doff] his bonnet, and when to cock it in the face of all and
sundry. Moreover, he will not be made a cat's-paw of, look you now.

_January_ 20.--Wrought all morning; a monstrous packet of letters at
mid-day. Borrow honest Laidlaw's fingers in the evening. I hope his pay
will recompense him: it is better than "grieve-ing" or playing
Triptolemus.[422] Should be, if I am hard-working, 100 guineas, which,
with his house, cow, and free rent, would save, I believe, some painful
thoughts to him and his amiable wife and children. We will see how the
matter fudges. Almost finished the first volume.

_January_ 21.--James Ballantyne in ecstasies at our plan of an
amanuensis. I myself am sensible that my fingers begin to stammer--that
is, to write one word instead of another very often. I impute this to
fancy, the terrible agency of which is too visible in my illness, and it
encourages me to hope the fatal warning is yet deferred. I feel lighter
by a million ton since I made this discovery. If I can dictate freely,
and without hesitation, my fear to speak at the meeting about the road
was vain terror, and so _Andiamo Caracci._ Wrote some letters this
afternoon.

_January_ 22.--Mr. Laidlaw rather late of coming. One of his daughters
has been ill, and he is an approved physician. Pity when one so gifted
employs his skill on himself and family for all patients. We got on,
however, to page 46.

_January_ 23.--I wrought a little to-day. Walked to Chiefswood, or
rather from it, as far only as Habbie's Howe. Came home, cold indeed,
but hearty. Slept after dinner. I think the peep, real or imaginary, at
the gates of death has given me firmness not to mind little afflictions.
I have jumbled this and the preceding day strangely, when I went to
Chiefswood and Huntly Burn. I thought this a week-day.

_January_ 24.--Worked with Mr. Laidlaw, and, as the snow was on the
ground, did so without intermission, which must be sinking to the
spirits. Held on, however.

_January_ 25.--Same drizzling waste, rendering my footing insecure, and
leaving me no refuge but in sitting at home and working till one
o'clock. Then retired upon the Sheriff Court processes. Bran,[423] poor
fellow, lies yawning at my feet, and cannot think what is become of the
daily scamper, which is all his master's inability affords him. This
grieves me, by calling back the days of old. But I may call them as I
may,

    "Youth winna return, nor the days of lang syne."

_January_ 26.--I have Skene and Mr. M'Culloch of Ardwell, to the relief
of my spirits and the diminishing of my time. Mr. Laidlaw joined us at
dinner.

Bitter cold.

_January_ 27.--So fagged with my frozen vigils that I slept till after
ten. When I lose the first two hours in the morning I can seldom catch
them again during the whole day.

A friendly visit from Ebenezer Clarkson of Selkirk, a medical gentleman
in whose experience and ingenuity I have much confidence, as well as his
personal regard for myself. He is quite sensible of the hesitation of
speech of which I complain, and thinks it arises from the stomach.
Recommends the wild mustard as an aperient. But the brightest ray of
hope is the chance that I may get some mechanical aid made by Fortune at
Broughton Street, which may enable me to mount a pony with ease, and to
walk without torture. This would, indeed, be almost a restoration of my
youth, at least of a green old age full of enjoyment. The shutting one
out from the face of living nature is almost worse than sudden death.

_January_ 28.--I wrote with Laidlaw. It does not work clear; I do not
know why. The plot is, nevertheless, a good plot, and full of
expectation.[424] But there is a cloud over me, I think, and
interruptions are frequent. I creep on, however.

_January_ 29.--Much in the same way as yesterday, rather feeling than
making way. Mr. Williams and his brother came in after dinner. Welcome
both; yet the day was not happy. It consumed me an afternoon, which,
though well employed, and pleasantly, had the disagreeable effect of my
being kept from useful work.

_January_ 30.--Snow deep, which makes me alter my purpose of going to
town to-morrow. For to-day, my friends must amuse themselves as they
can.

_January_ 31 _[to February_ 9, _Edinburgh_].--Retain my purpose,
however, and set out for Edinburgh alone--that is, no one but my
servant. The snow became impassable, and in Edinburgh I remain immovably
fixed for ten days--that is, till Wednesday--never once getting out of
doors, save to dinner, when I went and returned in a sedan chair. I
commenced my quarantine in Mackenzie's Hotel,[425] where I was deadly
cold, and it was tolerably noisy. The second day Mr. Cadell made a point
of my coming to his excellent house, where I had no less excellent an
apartment and the most kind treatment--- that is, not making a show of
me, for which I was in but bad tune.[426] The physical folks,
Abercrombie and Ross, bled me with cupping-glasses, purged me
confoundedly, and restricted me of all creature comforts. But they did
me good, as I am sure they meant to do sincerely; and I got rid of a
giddy feeling, which I have been plagued with, and have certainly
returned much better. I did not neglect my testamentary affairs. I
executed my last will, leaving Walter burdened, by his own choice, with
£1000 to Sophia, and another received at her marriage, and £2000 to
Anne, and the same to Charles. He is to advance them money if they want
it; if not, to pay them interest, which is his own choice, otherwise I
would have sold the books and rattletraps. I have made provisions for
clearing my estate by my publications, should it be possible; and should
that prove possible, from the time of such clearance being effected, to
be a fund available to all my children who shall be alive or leave
representatives. My bequests must, many of them, seem hypothetical; but
the thing, being uncertain, must be so stated.

Besides, during the unexpected stay in town, I employed Mr. Fortune, an
ingenious artist,[427] to make a machine to assist my lame leg,--an odd
enough purchase to be made at this time of day, yet who would not
purchase ease? I dined with the Lord Chief Commissioner, with the Skenes
twice, with Lord Medwyn, and was as happy as anxiety about my daughter
would permit me.

The appearance of the streets was most desolate: the hackney-coaches,
with four horses, strolling about like ghosts, the foot-passengers few
but the lowest of the people.

I wrote a good deal of _Count Robert_, yet I cannot tell why my pen
stammers egregiously, and I write horridly incorrect. I long to have
friend Laidlaw's assistance.

FOOTNOTES:

[410] _Hudibras_.

[411] John Swanston, a forester at Abbotsford, who did all he could to
replace Tom Purdie.--_Life_, vol. x. p. 66.

[412] Dr. Ferguson, Sir Adam's father, died in 1816.--See _Misc. Prose
Works_, vol. xix. pp. 331-33.

[413] See _Measure for Measure_, Act II. Sc. 1.

[414] _Æneid_ v. 194-7: thus rendered in English by Professor
Conington:--

'Tis not the palm that Mnestheus seeks: No hope of Victory fires his
cheeks: Yet, O that thought!--but conquer they To whom great Neptune
wills the day: Not to be last make that your aim, And triumph by
averting shame.



[415] _King Richard the Third_, Act IV. Sc. 2.

[416] Mr. G.P.R. James, author of _Richelieu_, etc. He afterwards took
Maxpopple for the season.

[417] Mr. Skene tells us that when No. 39 Castle Street was
"displenished" in 1826, Scott sent him the full-length portrait of
himself by Raeburn, now at Abbotsford, saying that he did not hesitate
to claim his protection for the picture, which was threatened to be
paraded under the hammer of the auctioneer, and he felt that his
interposition to turn aside that buffet might admit of being justified.
"As a piece of successful art, many might fancy the acquisition, but for
the sake of the original he knew no refuge where it was likely to find a
truer welcome. The picture accordingly remained many years in my
possession, but when his health had begun to break, and the plan of his
going abroad was proposed, I thought it would be proper to return the
picture, for which purpose I had a most successful copy made of it, an
absolute facsimile, for when the two were placed beside each, other it
was almost impossible to determine which was the original and which the
copy."--_Reminiscences_. Thus forestalling the wish expressed in the
affecting letter now given, which belongs to this day. See _ante_, vol.
i. p. 136 _n_.


"MY DEAR SKENE,--I have had no very pleasant news to send you, as I know
it will give Mrs. Skene and you pain to know that I am suffering under a
hundred little ailments which have greatly encroached upon the custom of
the season which I used to take. On this I could say much, but it is
better to leave alone what must be said with painful feeling, and you
would be vexed with reading.

"One thing I will put to rights with all others respecting my little
personal affairs. I am putting [in order] this house with what it
contains, and as Walter will probably be anxious to have a memorial of
my better days, I intend to beg you and my dear Mrs. Skene ... to have
it [the picture] copied by such an artist as you should approve of, to
supply the blank which must then be made on your hospitable walls with
the shadow of a shade. If the opportunity should occur of copying the
picture to your mind, I will be happy to have the copy as soon as
possible. You must not think that I am nervous or foolishly apprehensive
that I take these precautions. They are necessary and right, and if one
puts off too long, we sometimes are unfit for the task when we desire to
take it up....

"When the weather becomes milder, I hope Mrs. Skene and you, and some of
the children, will come out to brighten the chain of friendship with
your truly faithful,

WALTER SCOTT.

"ABBOTSFORD, 16 _January_ 1831."

[418] Sir W. alludes to Mrs. Piozzi's Tale of _The Three
Warnings_.--J.G.L.

[419] _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 3.

[420] Eccles. xii. 3.

[421] Crabbe's _Borough_, Letter xiii.--J.G.L.

[422] See _Pirate_.

[423] The deer-hound Bran which was presented by Macpherson of Cluny;
Nimrod was Glengarry's gift.--See letter to Miss Edgeworth, printed in
_Life_, vol. ix. p. 345.

[424] I _Henry IV_., Act II. Sc. 3.

[425] No. 1 Castle Street.

[426] "His host perceived that he was unfit for any company but the
quietest, and had sometimes one old friend, Mr. Thomson, Mr. Clerk, or
Mr. Skene to dinner, but no more. He seemed glad to see them, but they
all observed him with pain. He never took the lead in conversation, and
often remained altogether silent. In the mornings he wrote usually for
several hours at _Count Robert_; and Mr. Cadell remembers in particular,
that on Ballantyne's reminding him that a motto was wanted for one of
the chapters already finished, he looked out for a moment at the gloomy
weather, and penned these lines--

  'The storm increases--'tis no sunny shower,
  Foster'd in the moist breast of March or April,
  Or such as parched summer cools his lips with.
  Heaven's windows are flung wide; the inmost deeps
  Call in hoarse greeting one upon another;
  On comes the flood in all its foaming horrors,
  And where's the dyke shall stop it?'"--_The Deluge--a Poem_.

--_Life_, vol. x. p. 37.

[427] A skilful mechanist, who, by a clever piece of handiwork, gave Sir
Walter great relief, but only for a brief period.--_Life_, vol. x, p.
38.




FEBRUARY.


_February_ 9,_[Abbotsford]._--A heavy and most effective thaw coming on
I got home about five at night, and found the haugh covered with water,
dogs, pigs, cows, to say nothing of human beings, all who slept at the
offices in danger of being drowned. They came up to the mansion-house
about midnight, with such various clamour, that Anne thought the house
was attacked by Captain Swing and all the Radicals.

_February_ 10.--I set to work with Mr. Laidlaw, and had after that a
capital ride; my pony, little used, was somewhat frisky, but I rode on
to Huntly Burn. Began my diet on my new régime, and like it well,
especially porridge to supper. It is wonderful how old tastes rise.

_February_ 11.--Wrought again to-day, and John Swanston walked with me.
Wrote many letters, and sent copy to Ballantyne. Rode as usual. It is
well enough to ride every day, but confoundedly tiresome to write it
down.

_February_ 13.--I did not ask down Mr. Laidlaw, thinking it fair to
spare his Sunday. I had a day of putting to rights, a disagreeable work
which must be done. I took the occasion to tell Mr. Cadell that
_Malachi_ will break forth again; but I will not make a point of it with
him. I do not fear there will be as many to strike up as to strike down,
and I have a strong notion we may gain the day. I have a letter from the
Duchess of Wellington, asking a copy of Melville's Memoirs. She shall
have it if it were my last.

_February_ 14.--I had hardly begun my letter to Mr. Cadell than I began
also to "pull in resolution."[428] I considered that I had no means of
retreat; and that in all my sober moments, meaning my unpassionate ones,
for the doctors have taken from me the means of producing Dutch courage,
I have looked on political writing as a false step, and especially now
when I have a good deal at stake. So, upon the whole, I cancelled the
letter announcing the publication. If this was actually meanness it is a
foible nobody knows of. Anne set off for Edinburgh after breakfast. Poor
girl, she is very nervous. I wrote with Mr. L. till one--then had a walk
till three--then wrote this diary till four. Must try to get something
for Mr. Laidlaw, for I am afraid I am twaddling. I do not think my head
is weakened, but a strange vacillation makes me suspect. Is it not thus
that men begin to fail, becoming, as it were, infirm of purpose,

    "... that way madness lies; let me shun that:
    No more of that ..."[429]

Yet, why be a child about it? what must be, will be.

_February_ 15.--I wrote and corrected through the long day till one
o'clock; then rode out as far as Dr. Scott's, and called on him. Got a
fresh dose of proofs at Mathieson's, and returned home. At nine o'clock
at night had a card from Miss Bell [Maclachlan], wishing to speak to me
about some Highland music. Wrote for answer I knew nothing of the
matter, but would be happy to see Mrs. and Miss Bell to breakfast. I had
a letter of introduction by Robert Chambers, which I declined, being
then unwell. But as Trotter of Braid said, "The ladies maun come."

_February_ 16.--Mrs. and Miss Bell Maclachlan of the West Highlands,
mother and daughter, made their way to me to breakfast. I did not wish
to see them, being strangers; but she is very pretty--that is, the
daughter--and enthusiastic, and that is always flattering to an old
gentleman. She wishes to have words to Celtic melodies, and I have
promised her some, to the air of Crochallan, and incline to do her good,
perhaps, to the extent of getting her words from Lord Francis Leveson
Gower, Lockhart, and one or two others. We parted, she pleased with my
willing patronage, and I with an uncommon handsome countenance she
showed me.

This detained Mr. Laidlaw _re infecta_, and before I had written a page
the pony came to the door; but wrote something after dinner.

_February_ 17 and 18.--We had the usual course of food, study, and
exercise in the forenoon. Was extremely sleepy in the afternoon, which
made, I fear, but bad work. We progress, however. In riding met Sir Adam
Ferguson, and asked him and his brother the Colonel to dinner to-morrow.
Wrote in the meantime as usual.

_February_ 19.--Plagued by the stay for leg starting a screw bolt, which
is very inconvenient. Sent off, this morning, proofs as far as end of
first volume, and 20 manuscript pages, equal to about a quarter of the
second. Is it good or not? I cannot say. I think it better as it goes
on; and so far so good. I am certain I have written worse abomination,
as John Ballantyne, poor fellow, used to say.

_February_ 20.--Wrote five pages this morning; then rode out to the hill
and looked at some newly planted, rather transplanted, trees. Mr.
Laidlaw gone for the day. I trust I shall have proofs to correct. In the
meantime I may suck my paws and prepare some copy, or rather assemble
the raw material.

_February_ 21.--I made up parcels by mail-coach and Blucher to go
to-morrow--second volume _Redgauntlet_. At one fetched a walk through
wet and dry, looking at the ravages of the late flood. After I came in,
till two hours after tea-time, busied with the Sheriff Court processes,
which I have nearly finished. After this I will lounge over my
annotating. The _Tales of the Crusades_ come next.

_February_ 22.--Wrought with Mr. L. from ten to three, then took the
pony carriage, with the purpose of going to Chiefswood, but a heavy
squall came on with snow, so we put about-ship and returned. Read
Lyttelton's _History of England_ to get some notes for _Crusaders_, vol.
i. After dinner Mr. Laidlaw from six to eight. Sent off six pages.

_February_ 23, 24, 25.--These three days I can hardly be said to have
varied from my ordinary.

Rose at seven, dressed before eight, wrote letters, or did any little
business till a quarter past nine. Then breakfast. Mr. Laidlaw comes
from ten till one. Then take the pony, and ride _quantum mutatus_ two or
three miles, John Swanston walking by my bridle-rein lest I fall off.
Come home about three or four. Then to dinner on a single plain dish and
half a tumbler, or by'r lady three-fourths of a tumbler, of whisky and
water. Then sit till six o'clock, when enter Mr. Laidlaw again, and work
commonly till eight. After this, work usually alone till half-past nine,
then sup on porridge and milk, and so to bed. The work is half done. If
any [one] asks what time I take to think on the composition, I might
say, in one point of view, it was seldom five minutes out of my head the
whole day. In another light, it was never the serious subject of
consideration at all, for it never occupied my thoughts entirely for
five minutes together, except when I was dictating to Mr. Laidlaw.

_February_ 26.--Went through the same routine, only, being Saturday, Mr.
Laidlaw does not come in the evening. I think there is truth in the
well-known phrase, _Aurora musis amica_. I always have a visit of
invention between six and seven--that is, if anything has been plaguing
me, in the way of explanation, I find it in my head when I wake. I have
need of it to-night.

_February_ 27.--Being Saturday, no Mr. Laidlaw came yesterday evening,
nor to-day, being Sunday. Truth is, I begin to fear I was working too
hard, and gave myself to putting things in order, and working at the
_Magnum_, and reading stupid German novels in hopes a thought will
strike me when I am half occupied with other things. In fact, I am like
the servant in the _Clandestine Marriage,_[430] who assures his mistress
he always watches best with his eyes shut.

_February_ 28.--Past ten, and Mr. Laidlaw, the model of a clerk in other
respects, is not come yet. He has never known the value of time, so is
not quite accurate in punctuality; but that, I hope, will come if I can
drill him to it without hurting him. I think I hear him coming. I am
like the poor wizard who is first puzzled how to raise the devil and
then how to employ him. But _vogue la galère_. Worked till one, then
walked with great difficulty and pain till half-past two. I think I can
hardly stir without my pony, which is a sad pity. Mr. Laidlaw dines
here.

FOOTNOTES:

[428] _Macbeth_, Act V. Sc. 5.

[429] _Lear_, Act III. Sc. 4.

[430] Colman the elder.




MARCH.


_March_ 1, 2, 3.--All these three days I wrote forenoon and fagged
afternoon. Kept up the ball indifferent well, but began to tire on the
third, and suspected that I was flat--a dreary suspicion, not easily
chased away when once it takes root.

_March_ 4.--Laid aside the novel, and began with vigour a review of
Robson's Essay on Heraldry;[431] but I missed some quotations which I
could not get on without. I gave up, and took such a rash ride nowadays.
Returned home, and found Colonel Russell there on a visit. Then we had
dinner, and afterwards the making up this miserable Journal.

_March_ 5.--I have a letter from our member, Whytbank, adjuring me to
assist the gentlemen of the county with an address against the Reform
Bill, which menaces them with being blended with Peeblesshire, and
losing of consequence one half of their franchise. Mr. Pringle conjures
me not to be very nice in choosing my epithets. Mr. Pringle, Torwoodlee,
comes over and speaks to the same purpose, adding, it will be the
greatest service I can do the county, etc. This, in a manner, drives me
out of a resolution to keep myself clear of politics, and "let them
fight dog, fight bear." But I am too easy to be persuaded to bear a
hand. The young Duke of Buccleuch comes to visit me also; so I promised
to shake my duds and give them a cast of my calling, fall back, fall
edge.

_March_ 7-10.--In these four days I drew up, with much anxiety, an
address reprobatory of the Bill, both with respect to Selkirkshire, and
in its general purport. I was not mealy-mouthed, and those who heard the
beginning could hardly avoid listening to the end. It was certainly in
my best style, and would have made a deal of noise. From the
uncompromising style it would have attracted attention. Mr. Laidlaw,
though he is on t'other side on the subject, thinks it the best thing I
ever wrote; and I myself am happy to find that it cannot be said to
smell of the apoplexy. The pointed passages were, on the contrary,
clever and well put. But it was too declamatory, too much like a
pamphlet, and went far too generally into opposition to please the
country gentlemen, who are timidly inclined to dwell on their own
grievances rather than the public wrongs.

_March_ 11.--This day we had our meeting at Selkirk. I found
Borthwickbrae (late member) had sent the form of an address, which was
finished by Mr. Andrew Lang.[432] It was the reverse of mine in every
respect. It was short, and to the point. It only contained a
remonstrance against the incorporation with [Peebles]shire, and left it
to be inferred that they approved the Bill in other respects.[433] As I
saw that it met the ideas of the meeting (six in number) better by far
than such an address as mine, I instantly put it in my pocket. But I
endeavoured to add to their complaint of a private wrong a general
clause, stating their sense of the hazard of passing a Bill full of such
violent innovations at once on the public. But though Harden, Alva, and
Torwoodlee voted for this measure, it was refused by the rest of the
meeting, to my disappointment; since in its present state it will not be
attended to, and is in fact too milk-and-water to attract notice. I am,
however, personally out of the scrape; I was a fool to stir such a mess
of skimmed milk with so honourable an action.[434] If some of the
gentlemen of the press get hold of this story, what would they make of
it, and how little would I care! One thing is clear: it gives me a right
to decline future interference, and let the world wag, _Sessa_.[435]

_March_ 12.--Wrote the history of my four days' labour in vain to Sandy
Pringle, Whytbank, and so _transeat_ with _cæteris erroribus_. I only
gave way to one jest. A ratcatcher was desirous to come and complete his
labours in my house, and I, who thought he only talked and laughed with
the servants, recommended him to go to the head courts and meetings of
freeholders, where he would find rats in plenty.

_March_ 13.--I have finally arranged a thorny transaction. Mr. Cadell
has an interest in some of the Novels, amounting to one-half; but the
following are entirely my own, viz.:--

St. Ronan's Well,    3 vols.
Tales of Crusaders,  4 "
First Chronicles,    2 "
Anne of Geierstein,  3 "
Redgauntlet,         3 "
Woodstock,           3 "
Second Chronicles,   3 "
Count Robert,        3 "

In all, twenty-four volumes, which will begin printing after _Quentin
Durward_, and concludes the year 1831. For half the property he proposes
to pay 6000 guineas on 2d February 1831 [1832?]. I think that with this
sum, and others coming in, I may reduce the debt to £45,000.

But I do not see clearly enough through this affair to accept this
offer. _First_, I cannot see that there is wisdom in engaging Mr. Cadell
in deep speculations, unless they served him very much. I am, in this
respect, a burnt child: I have not forgotten the fire, or rather the
furnace. _Second_, I think the property worth more, if publicly sold.
_Third_, I cannot see any reasons which should render it advantageous
for me to sell one half of this property, it being admittedly at the
same [time] highly judicious to keep the other half. This does not
fadge. _Fourth_, As to the immediate command of the money, I am not
pressed for it, not having any advantage by paying it a year or two
sooner or later. The actual proceeds of the sales will come in about
1834, and I daresay will not be far behind in amount the sum of £6000.

In short, I will not sell on a rainy day, as our proverb says. I have
communicated my resolution to Cadell, to whom, no doubt, it will be a
disappointment, for which I am sorry, but cannot help it.

_March_ 14.--Had a very sensible and good-humoured answer from Mr.
Cadell, readily submitting to my decision. He mentions, what I am
conscious of, the great ease of accomplishing, if the whole is divided
into two halves. But this is not an advantage to me, but to them who
keep the books, and therefore I cannot be moved by it. It is the great
advantage of uniformity, of which Malachi Malagrowther tells so much. I
do not fear that Mr. Cadell will neglect the concern because he has not
the large share in it which he had in the other. He is, I think, too
honest a man. He has always shown himself every way willing and ready to
help me, and verily he hath his reward; and I can afford him on that
property a handsome percentage for the management. But if his fate was
to lose considerably by this transaction, I must necessarily be a
sufferer; if he be a great gainer, it is at my expense, so it is like
the children's game of "Odds I win, evens you lose"--so will say no more
about it. I think I will keep my ground nearly, so these cursed politics
do not ruin the country. I am unable to sit at good men's boards, and
Anne has gone to Mertoun to-day without me. I cannot walk or ride but
for a mile or two. Naboclish! never mind. I am satisfied that I am
heart-whole as a biscuit, and I may live to see the end of those affairs
yet. I am driving on the _Count of Paris_ right merrily. I have plenty
of leisure, and _vive la plume_! I have arranged matters as I think for
the best, so will think no more about it.

_March_ 16.--The affair with Mr. Cadell being settled, I have only to
arrange a set of regular employment for my time, without over-fatiguing
myself. What I at present practise seems active enough for my capacity,
and even if I should reach the threescore and ten, from which I am
thrice three years distant, or nearer ten, the time may pass honourably,
usefully, and profitably, both to myself and other people. My ordinary
runs thus:--Rise at a quarter before seven; at a quarter after nine
breakfast, with eggs, or in the singular number, at least; before
breakfast private letters, etc.; after breakfast Mr. Laidlaw comes at
ten, and we write together till one. I am greatly helped by this
excellent man, who takes pains to write a good hand, and supplies the
want of my own fingers as far as another person can. We work seriously
at the task of the day till one o'clock, when I sometimes walk--not
often, however, having failed in strength, and suffering great pain even
from a very short walk. Oftener I take the pony for an hour or two and
ride about the doors; the exercise is humbling enough, for I require to
be lifted on horseback by two servants, and one goes with me to take
care I do not fall off and break my bones, a catastrophe very like to
happen. My proud promenade à pied or à cheval, as it happens, concludes
by three o'clock. An hour intervenes for making up my Journal and such
light work. At four comes dinner,--a plate of broth or soup, much
condemned by the doctors, a bit of plain meat, no liquors stronger than
small beer, and so I sit quiet to six o'clock, when Mr. Laidlaw returns,
and remains with me till nine or three quarters past, as it happens.
Then I have a bowl of porridge and milk, which I eat with the appetite
of a child. I forgot to say that after dinner I am allowed half a glass
of whisky or gin made into weak grog. I never wish for any more, nor do
I in my secret soul long for cigars, though once so fond of them. About
six hours per day is good working, if I can keep at it.

_March_ 17.--Little of this day, but that it was so uncommonly windy
that I was almost blown off my pony, and was glad to grasp the mane to
prevent its actually happening. Rode round by Brigends. I began the
third volume of _Count Robert of Paris_, which has been on the anvil
during all these vexatious circumstances of politics and health. But
"the blue heaven bends over all." It may be ended in a fortnight if I
keep my scheme. But I will take time enough. This would be on Thursday.
I would like it much.

_March_ 18.--We get well on. _Count Robert_ is finished so far as the
second goes, and some twenty [pages] of the third. _Blackwood's
Magazine_, after long bedaubing me with compliment, has began to bedaub
Lockhart for my sake, or perhaps me for Lockhart's sake, with abuse.
Lockhart's chief offence seems to have been explaining the humbug of
showing up Hogg as a fool and blackguard in what he calls the
_Noctes_.[436] For me I care wonderfully little either for his flattery
or his abuse.[437]

_March_ 19.--I made a hard working day--almost equal to twenty pages,
but there was some reason for it, for Ballantyne writes me that the copy
sent will not exceed 265 pages when the end of volume ii. is reached; so
45 more pages must be furnished to run it out to page 329. This is an
awful cast back; so the gap is to be made up.

_March_ 20.--I thought I was done with politics, but it is easy getting
into the mess, and difficult and sometimes disgraceful to get out. I
have a letter from Sheriff Oliver, desiring me to go [to Jedburgh] on
Monday (to-morrow) and show countenance by adhering to a set of
propositions, being a resolution. Though not well drawn, they are
uncompromising enough; so I will not part company. Had a letter, too,
from Henry Scott. He still expects to refuse the Bill. I wrote him that
would but postpone the evil day, unless they could bring forward a
strong Administration, and, what is most essential, a system of finance;
otherwise it won't do. Henry has also applied to me for the rejected
address. But this I shall decline.

_March_ 22.--Went to-day at nine o'clock to the meeting. A great number
present, with a tribune full of Reformers, who showed their sense of
propriety by hissing, hooting, and making all sorts of noises; and these
unwashed artificers are from henceforth to select our legislators. There
was some speaking, but not good. I said something, for I could not sit
quiet.[438]

We did not get home till about nine, having fasted the whole time.
James, the blockhead, lost my poor Spice, a favourite terrier. The fool
shut her in a stable, and somebody, [he] says, opened the door and let
her out. I suspect she is lost for aye, for she was carried to Jedburgh
in a post-chaise.

_March_ 23.--The measure carried by a single vote.[439] In other
circumstances one would hope for the interference of the House of Lords,
but it is all hab-nab at a venture. The worst is that there is a popular
party who want personal power, and are highly unfitted to enjoy it. It
has fallen easily, the old Constitution; no bullying Mirabeau to assail,
no eloquent Maury to defend. It has been thrown away like a child's
broken toy. Well trained, the good sense of the people is much trusted
to; we will see what it will do for us.[440]

The curse of Cromwell on those whose conceit brought us to this pass.
_Sed transeat_. It is vain to mourn what cannot be mended.

_March_ 24.--Frank Grant and his lady came here. Frank will, I believe,
and if he attends to his profession, be one of the celebrated men of the
age. He is well known to me as the companion of my sons and the partner
of my daughters. In youth, that is in extreme youth, he was passionately
fond of fox-hunting and other sports, but not of any species of
gambling. He had also a strong passion for painting, and made a little
collection. As he had sense enough to feel that a younger brother's
fortune would not last long under the expenses of a good stud and a rare
collection of _chef-d'œuvres_, he used to avow his intention to spend
his patrimony, about £10,000, and then again to make his fortune by the
law. The first he soon accomplished. But the law is not a profession so
easily acquired, nor did Frank's talents lie in that direction. His
passion for painting turned out better. Nature had given him the rare
power of judging soundly of painting, and in a remarkable degree the
power of imitating it. Connoisseurs approved of his sketches, both in
pencil and oils, but not without the sort of criticisms made on these
occasions--that they were admirable for an amateur; but it could not be
expected that he should submit to the technical drudgery absolutely
necessary for a profession, and all that species of criticism which
gives way before natural genius and energy of character.

Meantime Frank Grant, who was remarkably handsome, and very much the man
of fashion, married a young lady with many possibilities, as Sir Hugh
Evans says.[441] She was eldest sister of Farquharson of Invercauld,
chief of that clan; and the young man himself having been almost
paralysed by the malaria in Italy, Frank's little boy by this match
becomes heir to the estate and chieftainship. In the meantime fate had
another chance for him in the matrimonial line. At Melton-Mowbray,
during the hunting season, he had become acquainted (even before his
first marriage) with a niece of the Duke of Rutland, a beautiful and
fashionable young woman, with whom he was now thrown into company once
more. It was a natural consequence that they should marry. The lady had
not much wealth, but excellent connections in society, to whom Grant's
good looks and good breeding made him very acceptable.

_March_ 25.--In the meantime Frank saw the necessity of doing something
to keep himself independent, having, I think, too much spirit to become
a Stulko,[442] drinking out the last glass of the bottle, riding the
horses which the laird wishes to sell, and drawing sketches to amuse the
lady and the children,--besides a prospect on Invercauld elevating him,
when realised, to the rank of the laird's father.

_March_ 26.--Grant was above all this, and honourably and manfully
resolved to cultivate his taste for painting, and become a professional
artist. I am no judge of painting, but I am conscious that Francis Grant
possesses, with much taste, a sense of beauty derived from the best
source, that of really good society, while in many modern artists, the
total want of that species of feeling is so great as to be revolting.
His former acquaintances render his immediate entrance into business
completely secure, and it will rest with himself to carry on his
success. He has, I think, that degree of energy and force of character
which will make him keep and enlarge any reputation which he may
acquire. He has confidence too in his own powers, always a requisite for
a young painter whose aristocratic pretensions must be envied by [his
less fortunate brethren].

_March_ 27.--Frank Grant is still with me, and is well pleased--I think
very deservedly so--with a cabinet picture of myself, armour, and so
forth, together with my two noble staghounds of the greyhound race. I
wish Cadell had got it; it is far better than Watson's--though his is
well too. The dogs sat charmingly, but the picture took up some
time.[443]

_March_ 28.--We went out a little ride. The weather most tempting, the
day beautiful. We rode and walked a little.

_March_ 29.--We had an hour's sitting of the dogs, and a good deal of
success. I cannot compose my mind on this public measure. It will not
please those whom it is the object to please.

_March_ 30.--Robert Dundas[444] and his wife--Miss Durham that was--came
to spend a day or two. I was heartily glad to see him, being my
earliest and best friend's son. John Swinton came by Blucher, on the
part of an anti-Reform meeting in Edinburgh; exhorting me to take up the
pen, but I declined and pleaded health, which, God knows, I have a right
to urge. I might have urged also the chance of my breaking down, but
there would be a cry of this kind which might very well prove real.

_March_ 31.--Swinton returned in the forenoon yesterday after lunch. He
took my denial very quietly, and said it would be wrong to press me. I
have not shunned anything that came fairly on me, but I do not see the
sense of standing forth a champion. It is said that the Duke of
Buccleuch has been offered the title of Monmouth if he would cease to
oppose. He said there were two objections--they would not give it him if
he seriously thought of it, and he would not take it if they did. The
Dundases went off to-day. I was glad I had seen them, although visitors
rather interrupt work.

FOOTNOTES:

[431] _The British Herald_, by Thomas Robson, 3 vols. 4to, 1830. Mr.
Lockhart says this review never was published.

[432] Mr. Andrew Lang, Sheriff and Commissary Clerk, and Clerk of Peace,
for Selkirkshire, grandfather of Mr. Andrew Lang, the accomplished poet
and man of letters of the present time. The tact and ability of the
grandfather are noticed by Sir Walter in his letter to Lord Montagu of
Oct. 3, 1819, describing Prince Leopold at Selkirk.--_Life_, vol. vi. p.
131.

[433] This proposal, resisted successfully in 1832, has since been put
in force so far as Parliament is concerned.

[434] I _Henry IV_., Act II. Sc. 3.

[435] _Taming of the Shrew_, Introd.

[436] As this is the last reference to the Ettrick Shepherd in the
Journal, it may be noted that Sir Walter, as late as March 23d, 1832,
was still desirous to promote Hogg's welfare. In writing from Naples he
says, in reference to the Shepherd's social success in London, "I am
glad Hogg has succeeded so well. I hope he will make hay while the sun
shines; but he must be aware that the Lion of this season always becomes
the Boar of the next.... I will subscribe the proper sum, _i.e._ what
you think right, for Hogg, by all means; and I pray God, keep farms and
other absurd temptations likely to beset him out of his way. He has
another chance for comfort if he will use common sense with his very
considerable genius."

[437] This expression of irritation can easily be understood after
reading the passages referred to in the twenty-ninth volume of
_Blackwood's Magazine_, pp. 30-35, and 535-544. Readers of this
_Journal_ have seen what uphill work these "Letters on Demonology" were
to the author, but the unsparing criticism of _Christopher North_ must
have appeared to the author as a very unfriendly act, more especially,
he thought, if the critic really knew the conditions under which the
book had been written.

[438] Mr. Lockhart says:--"He proposed one of the Tory resolutions in a
speech of some length, but delivered in a tone so low, and with such
hesitation in utterance, that only a few detached passages were
intelligible to the bulk of the audience."--See _Life_, vol. x. pp.
46-8.

[439] The passing of the great Reform Bill in the House of Commons on
the 22d March.

[440] His friend Richardson, who was a Whig, writes him from London on
February 14:--"What a singular feeling it was to me to find Brougham
Lord Chancellor, and Jeffrey and Cockburn in their present stations! I
am afraid that the spirit of reform goes at present beyond the limits to
which even the Government will go--and but for the large stock of good
sense and feeling which I think yet pervades the country, I should
tremble for the future."

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

[442] _Stulko_ or _Stulk_ (? _Stocaire_, in Irish), a word formerly in
common use among the Irish, signifying an idle, lazy, good-for-nothing
fellow.

[443] Mary Campbell, Lady Ruthven, for whom the picture was painted, was
not only the friend of Scott, but she held relations more or less close
with nearly every one famous in Art and Literature during the greater
part of the nineteenth century. No mean artist herself, and though,
perhaps, not a clever letter-writer, she had among her correspondents
some of the most brilliant men of her day. She survived all her early
friends, but had the gift of being attractive to the young, and for
three generations was the delight of their children and grandchildren.
Those who were privileged to share in the refined hospitality of Winton,
never forgot either the picturesque old house (the supposed Ravenswood
Castle of the _Bride of Lammermoor_), or its venerable mistress as she
sat of an evening in her unique drawing-room, the walls of which were
adorned with pictures of Grecian temple and landscape, her own handiwork
in days long gone by when she was styled by her friends Queen of Athens.
Her conversation, after she was ninety, was fresh and vigorous; and,
despite blindness and imperfect hearing, she kept herself well
acquainted with the affairs of the day. The last great speech in
Parliament, or the newest _bon mot_, were equally acceptable and equally
relished. Her sense of humour and fun made her, at times, forget her own
sufferings, and her splendid memory enabled her to while away many a
sleepless hour by repeating long passages from the Bible or Milton. The
former she had so much in her heart that it was scarcely possible to
believe she was not reading from the Book. Above all was her truly
divine gift of charity, the practical application of which, in her
every-day life, was only bounded by her means.

It was said of her by one who knew her well--

"She lived to a great age, dispensing kindness and benevolence to the
last, and cheered in the sore infirmities of her later years by the love
of friends of all ranks, and all parties of all ages.

"The Living Lamp of Lothian, which from Winton, has so long shed its
beneficent lustre, has been extinguished, but not so will be lost the
memory of the gifted lady, for by not a few will still be cherished the
recollection of her noble nature, and of her Christian life."

Lady Ruthven prized the picture referred to. She would not, as Sir
Francis Grant relates,[D] permit him to touch the canvas after it left
the Abbotsford studio; and it remained a cherished possession which she
took pride in showing to appreciative guests, pointing out the details
of face and form which she still saw with that inner eye, which time had
not darkened.

It is now in the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland--bequeathed to
the nation with other pictures, as well as the magnificent collection of
Greek archaeological objects gathered by herself and Lord Ruthven in
their early married life. She was born in 1789, and died in 1885.

[444] Robert Dundas of Arniston, Esq., the worthy representative of an
illustrious lineage, died at his paternal seat in June 1838.--J.G.L. See
_Arniston Memoirs_--_Three Centuries of a Scottish House_, 1571-1838.
Edin. 8vo, 1887.

[D] See long and interesting letter of June 5, 1872, from Sir Francis to
Sir W.S. Maxwell.--Laing's _Catalogue_, pp. 72-81.




APRIL.


_April_ 2.--Mr. Henry Liddell, eldest son of Lord Ravensworth, arrived
here. I like him and his brother Tom very much. They are what may be
termed fine men. Young Mackenzie of Cromarty came with him, who is a
fine lad and sings very beautifully. I knew his father and mother, and
was very glad to see him. They had been at Mertoun fishing salmon, with
little sport.

_April_ 3.--A letter from the Lord Chief Commissioner, reporting Lord
Palmerston and Sir Herbert Taylor's letters in Charles's favour. Wrote a
grateful answer, and resolved, that as I have made my opinion public at
every place where I could be called on or expected to appear, I will not
throw myself forward when I have nothing to say. May the Lord have mercy
upon us and incline our hearts to keep this vow!

_April_ 4.--Mr. Liddell and Hay Mackenzie left us this morning. Liddell
showed me yesterday a very good poem, worthy of Pope or Churchill, in
old-fashioned hexameters, called the [_illegible_]. He has promised me a
copy, for it is still being printed. There are some characters very well
drawn. The force of it belies the character of a Dandie, too hastily
ascribed to the author. He is accomplished as an artist and musician,
and certainly has a fine taste for poetry, though he may never cultivate
it.[445] He promises to bring his lady--who is very clever, but pretty
high, they say, in the temper--to spend a day or two with us after
leaving Edinburgh.

_April_ 5.--This fifth day of April is the March fair at Selkirk. Almost
every one of the family goes there, Mr. Laidlaw among others. I have a
hideous paralytic custom of stuttering with my pen, and cannot write
without strange blunders; yet I cannot find any failure in my intellect.
Being unable to write to purpose with my own hand, this forenoon was a
sort of holiday to me. The third volume of _Count Robert_ is fairly
begun, but I fear I shall want stuff to fill it, for I would not
willingly bombast it with things inappropriate. If I could fix my mind
to the task to-day, my temper, notwithstanding my oath, sets strong
towards politics, where I would be sure of making a figure, and feel I
could carry with me a great part of the middle-class, who wait for a
shot between wind and water--half comic, half serious, which is a better
argument than most which are going. The regard of my health is what
chiefly keeps me in check. The provoking odium I should mind much less;
for there will always be as many for as against me, but it would be a
foolish thing to take flight to the next world in a political gale of
wind. If Cadell gave me the least encouragement I would give way to the
temptation. Meantime I am tugging at the chain for very eagerness. I
have done enough to incense people against me, without, perhaps, doing
so much as I could, would, or should have done.