_April_ 6.--I have written to Alva and Lord Elgin, explaining why I
cannot, as they encourage me to do, take upon me the cause of the
public, and bell-the-cat with the reformers. I think I have done enough
for an individual.

I have more than half dictated the third volume to Mr. Laidlaw; but I
feel the subject wants action, and that a little repose will be very
necessary. Resolve to-morrow shall be a resting-day. I have not had one
this long time. I had a letter from Croker, advising a literary
adventure--the personal history of Charles Edward.[446] I think it will
do. Rode to Melrose and brought home the letters from the post-office.

_April_ 8,--I took leave of poor Major John Scott,[447] who, being
afflicted with a distressing asthma, has resolved upon selling his house
in Ravenswood, which he had dressed up with much neatness, and going
abroad to Jamaica. Without having been intimate friends, we were always
affectionate relations, and now we part, probably never to meet in this
world. He has a good deal of the character said to belong to the family.
Our parting with mutual feeling may be easily supposed.

_April_ 9.--This being Saturday, I expect the bibliopolist and
typographer about two o'clock, I suppose, when I shall have much to
journalise. Failures among the trade are alarming, yet not if we act
with prudence. _Nous verrons_.

Mr. Cadell and J. Ballantyne, with the son of the latter. Their courage
is much stouter than I apprehended. Cadell says he has lost £1000 by bad
debts, which is less than he expected, by bad times coming on at this
time. We have been obliged to publish the less popular part of the
Waverley Novels. At present I incline to draw a period after 48 volumes,
and so close the publication. About nine or ten volumes will then
conclude our _Magnum Opus_, so called, and Mr. Cadell thinks we shall
then begin the Poetical Works, in twelve volumes, with illustrations by
Turner, which he expects to rise as far as 12,000. The size is to be
that of the Waverley Novels.

_April_ 10.--I had a letter from Mr. Cowan, Trustee for

Constable's creditors, telling that the manuscripts of the Waverley
Novels had been adjudged to him, and offering them to me, or rather
asking my advice about the disposal of them. Answered that I considered
myself as swindled out of my property, and therefore will give no
consent to any sale of the pillage.[448] Cadell says he is determined to
get the MSS. from Cowan. I told him I would give him the rest of the
MSS., which are in my own hand, for Mr. Cadell has been very friendly to
me in not suffering me to want money in difficult times. We are not
pushed by our creditors, so can take our own time; and as our plans
prosper, we can pay off debt. About two o'clock enter two gentlemen in
an open carriage, both from Makerstoun, and both Captains in the Navy.
Captain Blair, a son of the member for Ayrshire, my old friend the Laird
of Blair. Just as they retreat, Mr. Pontey is announced. I was glad to
see this great forester. He is a little man, and gets along with an air
of talent, something like Gifford, the famous editor of the _Quarterly_.
As in his case mental acuteness gave animation to that species of
countenance which attends personal deformity. The whole of his face was
bizarre and odd, yet singularly impressive. We walked round, I with
great pain, by the Hooded Corbies' seat, and this great Lord of the
woodland gave the plantation great approbation. He seems rather
systematic in pruning, yet he is in a great measure right. He is
tolerably obstinate in his opinions. He dined, leaving me flattered with
his applause, and pleased with having seen him.

_April_ 11.--This day I went, with Anne and Miss Jane Erskine,[449] to
see the laying of the stones of foundation of two bridges in my
neighbourhood over Tweed and the Ettrick. There was a great many people
assembled. The day was beautiful, the scene romantic, and the people in
good spirits and good-humour. Mr. Paterson[450] of Galashiels made a
most excellent prayer; Mr. Smith[451] gave a proper repast to the
workmen, and we subscribed sovereigns apiece to provide for any
casualty. I laid the foundation-stone of the bridge over Tweed, and Mr.
C.B. Scott[452] of Woll that of Ettrick. The general spirit of
good-humour made the scene, though without parade, extremely
interesting.

_April_ 12.--We breakfasted with the Fergusons, after which Anne and
Miss Erskine walked up the Rhymer's Glen. I could as easily have made a
pilgrimage to Rome with pease in my shoes unboiled. I drove home, and
began to work about ten o'clock. At one o'clock I rode, and sent off
what I had finished. Mr. Laidlaw dined with me. In the afternoon we
wrote five or six pages more. I am, I fear, sinking a little, from
having too much space to fill, and a want of the usual inspiration which
makes me, like the chariot wheels of Pharaoh in the sands of the Red
Sea, drive heavily. It is the less matter if this prove, as I suspect,
the last of this fruitful family.

_April_ 13.--Corrected a proof in the morning. At ten o'clock began
where I had left off at my romance. Mr. Laidlaw agrees as to the portion
of what we are presently busy with. Laidlaw begins to smite the rock for
not giving forth the water in quantity sufficient. I remarked to him
that this would not profit much. Doing, perhaps, twelve pages a day will
easily finish us, and if it prove dull, why, dull it must be. I shall,
perhaps, have half a dozen to make up this night. I have against me the
disadvantage of being called the Just, and every one of course is
willing to worry me. But they have been long at it, and even those works
which have been worst received at their appearance now keep their ground
fairly enough. So we'll try our old luck another voyage.

It is a close, thick rain, and I cannot ride, and I am too dead lame to
walk in the house. So, feeling really exhausted, I will try to sleep a
little.

My nap was a very short one, and was agreeably replaced by Basil Hall's
Fragments of Voyages. Everything about the inside of a vessel is
interesting, and my friend has the great sense to know this is the case.
I remember when my eldest brother took the humour of going to sea, James
Watson[453] used to be invited to George Square to tell him such tales
of hardships as might disgust him with the service. Such were my poor
mother's instructions. But Captain Watson could not render a sea life
disgusting to the young midshipman or to his brother, who looked on and
listened. The account of assistance given to the Spaniards at Cape
Finisterre, and the absurd behaviour of the Junta, are highly
interesting--a more inefficient, yet a more resolved class of men than
the Spaniards were never conceived.

_April_ 14.--Advised by Mr. Cadell that he has agreed with Mr. Turner,
the first draughtsman of the period, to furnish to the poetical works
two decorations to each of the proposed twelve volumes, to wit, a
frontispiece and vignette to each, at the rate of £25 for each, which is
cheap enough considering these are the finest specimens of art going.
The difficulty is to make him come here to take drawings. I have written
to the man of art, inviting him to my house, though, if I remember, he
is not very agreeable, and offered to transport him to the places where
he is to exercise his pencil. His method is to take various drawings of
remarkable places and towns and stick them all together. He can
therefore derive his subjects from good accurate drawings, so with
Skene's assistance we can equip him. We can put him at home on all the
subjects. Lord Meadowbank and his son, Skene and his son, Colonel
Russell and his sister, dined with us.[454]

_April_ 15.--Lord Meadowbank, etc., went to Newark with me, and returned
to dine with the foregoing. Charming day.

_April_ 16.--Lord Meadowbank went to the circuit and our party to their
various homes. By the bye, John Pringle and his brother of Haining dined
with us yesterday. Skene walks with me and undertakes readily to supply
Turner with subjects. Weather enchanting. About 100 leaves will now
complete _Robert of Paris_. Query, will it answer? Not knowing, can't
say. I think it will.



_Sunday_ 16_th_ [17_th_] _April to Sunday_ 24_th_ of the same month
unpleasantly occupied by ill [health], and its consequences, a distinct
shock of paralysis affecting both my nerves and spine, though beginning
only on Monday with a very bad cold. Dr. [Abercrombie] was brought out
by the friendly care of Cadell, but young Clarkson had already done the
needful--that is, had bled and blistered severely, and placed me on a
very restricted diet. Whether these precautions have been taken in time
I cannot tell. I think they have, though severe in themselves, beat the
disease. But I am alike prepared,

    "Seu versare dolos, seu certæ occumbere morti."[455]

I only know that to live as I am just now is a gift little worth having.
I think I will be in the Secret next week unless I recruit greatly.

_April_ 27.--They have cut me off from animal food and fermented liquor
of every kind, and would press upon me such trash as panada and the
like, which affect my stomach.

This I will none of, but quietly wait till my ordinary diet is
permitted, and thank God I can fast with any one. I walked out and found
the day delightful; the woods are looking charming, just bursting forth
to the tune of the birds. I have been whistling on my wits like so many
chickens, and cannot miss any of them. I feel, on the whole, better than
I have yet done. I believe I have fined and recovered, and so may be
thankful.

_April_ 28 and 29.--Walter made his appearance, well and stout, and
completely recovered of his stomach complaints by abstinence. He has
youth on his side, and I in age must submit to be a Lazarus. The medical
men persist in recommending a seton. I am no friend to these risky
remedies, and will be sure of the necessity before I yield consent. The
dying like an Indian under torture is no joke, and, as Commodore
Trunnion says, I feel heart-whole as a biscuit. My mind turns to
politics. I feel better just now, and so I am. I will wait till Lockhart
comes, but that may be too late.

FOOTNOTES:

[445] Henry Liddell, second Baron Ravensworth, author of a translation
of the Odes of Horace, a volume of Latin Poems, etc.

[446] In a letter from Sir Walter to his son-in-law, of April 11th, he
says:--

"When you can take an hour to think of this, I will be glad to hear from
you.... I am in possession of five or six manuscripts, copies, or large
extracts, taken under my own eyes. Croker thinks, and I am of his
opinion, that if there was room for a personal narrative of the
character, it would answer admirably."

[447] This gentleman, a brother to the Laird of Raeburn, had made some
fortune in the East Indies, and bestowed the name of Ravenswood on a
villa which he built near Melrose. He died in 1831.--J.G.L.

[448] The Manuscripts were sold by auction in London on August 19th,
1831, and the prices realised fell far short of what might have been
expected, _e.g._ (1) _Monastery_, £18; (2) _Guy Mannering_, £27, 10s.;
(3) _Old Mortality_, £33; (4) _Antiquary_, £42; (5) _Rob Roy_, £50; (6)
_Peveril of the Peak_, £42; (7) _Waverley_, £18; (8) _Abbot_, £14; (9)
_Ivanhoe_, £12; (10) _Pirate_, £12; (11) _Nigel_, £16, 16s.; (12)
_Kenilworth_, £17; (13) _Bride of Lammermoor_, £14, 14s.--Total
£317.--See David Laing's Catalogue, pp. 99-108, for an account of the
dispersion and sales of the original MSS., prose and poetry.

[449] Miss J. Erskine, a daughter of Lord Kinnedder's. She died in
1838.--J.G.L.

[450] The Rev. N. Paterson, author of _The Manse Garden_; afterwards
minister of St. Andrew's, Glasgow. He died in 1871. Mr. Paterson was a
grandson of Robert Paterson, "Old Mortality," and brother of the Rev.
Walter Paterson, minister of Kirkurd, author of the _Legend of Iona_--a
poem written in imitation of the style of Scott, and in which he
recognises his obligations to Sir Walter in the following terms:--"From
him I derived courage to persevere in an undertaking on which I had
often reflected with terror and distrust."--_Legend_, notes, p. 305.

[451] Mr. John Smith of Darnick, the builder of Abbotsford, and
architect of these bridges.--J.G.L.

[452] This gentleman died in Edinburgh on the 4th February 1838.--J.G.L.

[453] The late Captain Watson, R.N., was distantly related to Sir
Walter's mother. His son, Sir John Watson Gordon, rose to great eminence
as a painter; and his portraits of Scott and Hogg rank among his best
pieces. He became President of the Royal Scottish Academy in 1850, died
in 1864, leaving funds to endow a Chair of Fine Arts in the Edinburgh
University.

[454] Mr. W.F. Skene, Historiographer Royal for Scotland, and son of
Scott's dear friend, has been good enough to give me his recollections
of these days:--

"On referring to my Diary for the year 1831 I find the following entry:
'This Spring, on 31st April, I went with my father to Abbotsford and
left on Sir Walter Scott being taken ill.' The date here given for my
visit does not correspond with that in Sir Walter's Diary, but, as there
are only thirty days in April it has evidently been written by mistake
for the 13th. I had just attained my twenty-first year, and as such a
visit at that early age was a great event in my life, I retain a very
distinct recollection of the main features of it. I recollect that Lord
Meadowbank and his eldest son Alan came at the same time, and the dinner
party, at which Mr. Pringle of the Haining and his brother were present.
The day after our arrival Sir Walter asked me to drive with him. We went
in his open carriage to the Yarrow, where we got out, and Sir Walter,
leaning on my arm, walked up the side of the river, pouring forth a
continuous stream of anecdotes, traditions, and scraps of ballads. I was
in the seventh heaven of delight, and thought I had never spent such a
day. On Sunday Sir Walter did not come down to breakfast, but sent a
message to say that he had caught cold and had taken some medicine for
it the night before, which had made him ill, and would remain in bed.
When we sat at either lunch or dinner, I do not recollect which, Sir
Walter walked into the room and sat down near the table, but ate
nothing. He seemed in a dazed state, and took no notice of any one, but
after a few minutes' silence, during which his daughter Anne, who was at
table, and was watching him with some anxiety, motioned to us to take no
notice, he began in a quiet voice to tell us a story of a pauper
lunatic, who, fancying he was a rich man, and was entertaining all sorts
of high persons to the most splendid banquets, communicated to his
doctor in confidence that there was one thing that troubled him much,
and which he could not account for, and that was that all these
exquisite dishes seemed to him to taste of oatmeal porridge. Sir Walter
told this with much humour, and after a few minutes' silence began
again, and told the same story over a second time, and then again a
third time.[E] His daughter, who was watching him with increasing
anxiety, then motioned to us to rise from table, and persuaded her
father to return to his bedroom. Next day the doctor, who had been sent
for, told us that he was seriously ill, and advised that his guests
should leave at once, so that the house might be kept quiet and his
daughter devote herself entirely to the care of her father. We
accordingly left at once, and I never saw Sir Walter again. I still,
however, retain a memorial of my visit. I had fallen into indifferent
health in the previous year, and been recommended Highland air. By Sir
Walter's advice I was sent to live with a friend of his, the Reverend
Doctor Macintosh Mackay, then minister of Laggan, in the Inverness-shire
Highlands, and had passed my time learning from him the Gaelic language.
This excited in me a taste for Celtic Antiquities, and finding in Sir
Walter's Library a copy of O'Connor's _Rerum Hibernicarum Scriptores
veteres_, I sat up one night transcribing from it the Annals of
Tighernac. This transcript is still in my library.--WILLIAM F. SKENE.

"27 INVERLEITH ROW, Sept. 1890."



[E] An echo of one of his own singular illustrations (see _Letters on
Demonology_) of the occasional collision between a disturbed imagination
and the organs of sense.

[455] _Æneid_ II. 62.




MAY.


_April_ 30 _and May_ 1.--To meet Sandy Pringle to settle the day of
election on Monday. Go on with _Count Robert_ half-a-dozen leaves per
day. I am not much pleased with my handiwork. The Chancery money seems
like to be paid. This will relieve me of poor Charles, who is at present
my chief burthen. The task of pumping my brains becomes inevitably
harder when "both chain-pumps are choked below;"[456] and though this
may not be the case literally, yet the apprehension is wellnigh as bad.

_May_ 2.--The day passed as usual in dictating (too little) and riding a
good deal. I must get finished with _Count Robert_, who is progressing,
as the Transatlantics say, at a very slow pace indeed. By the bye, I
have a letter from Nathan T. Rossiter, Williamstown, New York City,
offering me a collection of poems by Byron, which are said to have been
found in Italy some years since by a friend of Mr. Rossiter. I don't see
I can at all be entitled to these, so shall write to decline them. If
Mr. Rossiter chooses to publish them in Italy or America he may, but,
published here, they must be the property of Lord Byron's executors.

_May_ 3.--Sophia arrives--with all the children looking well and
beautiful, except poor Johnnie, who looks very pale. But it is no
wonder, poor thing!

_May_ 4.--I have a letter from Lockhart, promising to be down by next
Wednesday, that is, to-day. I will consult him about Byron's Exec., and
as to these poems said to be his Lordship's. They are very probably
first copies thrown aside, or may not be genuine at all. I will be glad
to see Lockhart. My pronunciation is a good deal improved. My time
glides away ill employed, but I am afraid of the palsy. I should not
like to be pinned to my chair. But I believe even that kind of life is
more endurable than we could suppose. Your wishes are limited to your
little circle--yet the idea is terrible to a man who has been active. My
own circle in bodily matters is daily narrowing; not so in intellectual
matters, but I am perhaps a bad judge. The plough is coming to the end
of the furrow, so it is likely I shall not reach the common goal of
mortal life by a few years. I am now in my sixtieth year only, and

    "Three score and ten years do sum up."[457]

_May_ 5.--A fleece of letters, which must be answered, I suppose--all
from persons, my zealous admirers, of course, and expecting a degree of
generosity, which will put to rights all their maladies, physical and
mental; and expecting that I can put to rights whatever losses have been
their lot, raise them to a desirable rank, and [stand] their protector
and patron. I must, they take it for granted, be astonished at having an
address from a stranger; on the contrary, I would be astonished if any
of these extravagant epistles were from any one who had the least title
to enter into correspondence with me. I have all the plague of answering
these teasing people.

Mr. Burn, the architect, came in, struck by the appearance of my house
from the road. He approved my architecture greatly. He tells me the
edifice for Jeanie Deans--that is, her prototype--is nigh finished, so I
must get the inscription ready.[458] Mr. Burn came to meet with Pringle
of Haining; but, alas! it is two nights since this poor young man,
driving in from his own lake, where he had been fishing, an ill-broken
horse ran away with him, and, at his own stable-door, overturned the
vehicle and fractured poor Pringle's skull; he died yesterday morning. A
sad business; so young a man, the proprietor of a good estate, and a
well-disposed youth. His politics were, I think, mistaken, being the
reverse of his father's; but that is nothing at such a time. Burn went
on to Richardson's place of Kirklands, where he is to meet the
proprietor, whom I too would wish to see, but I can hardly make it out.
Here is a world of arrangements. I think we will soon hit upon
something. My son Walter takes leave of me to-day to return to
Sheffield. At his entreaty I have agreed to put in a seton, which they
seem all to recommend. My own opinion is, this addition to my tortures
will do me no good; but I cannot hold out against my son. So, when the
present blister is well over, let them try their seton as they call it.

_May_ 6 _and_ 7.--Here is a precious job. I have a formal remonstrance
from these critical persons, Ballantyne and Cadell, against the last
volume of _Count Robert_, which is within a sheet of being finished. I
suspect their opinion will be found to coincide with that of the public;
at least it is not very different from my own. The blow is a stunning
one I suppose, for I scarcely feel it. It is singular, but it comes with
as little surprise as if I had a remedy ready. Yet God knows, I am at
sea in the dark, and the vessel leaky, I think, into the bargain. I
cannot conceive that I should have tied a knot with my tongue which my
teeth cannot untie. We will see. I am determined to write a political
pamphlet _coûte que coûte_; ay,--should it cost me my life.

I will right and left at these unlucky proof-sheets, and alter at least
what I cannot mend.

_May_ 8.--I have suffered terribly, that is the truth, rather in body
than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep without
waking. But I will fight it out if I can. It would argue too great an
attachment of consequence to my literary labours to sink under. Did I
know how to begin, I would begin this very day, although I knew I should
sink at the end. After all, this is but fear and faintness of heart,
though of another kind from that which trembleth at a loaded pistol. My
bodily strength is terribly gone; perhaps my mental too?

_May_ 9.--The weather uncommonly beautiful and I am very eager to get
on thinning woods while the peeling season lasts. We made about £200 off
wood last season, and this is a sum worth looking at.

_May_ 10.--Some repairs on the mill-dam still keep the people employed,
and we cannot get to the thinning. Yet I have been urging them for a
month. It's a great fault of Scottish servants that they cannot be
taught to time their turns.

_May_ 11.--By old practice I should be going into town to-day, the Court
sitting to-morrow. Am I happier that I am free from this charge? Perhaps
I am; that is certain, time begins to make my literary labour more
precious than usual. Very weak, scarce able to crawl about without the
pony--lifted on and off--and unable to walk half a mile save with great
pain.

_May_ 12.--Resolved to lay by _Robert of Paris_, and take it up when I
can work. Thinking on it really makes my head swim, and that is not
safe. Miss Ferrier comes out to us. This gifted personage, besides
having great talents, has conversation the least _exigeante_ of any
author, female at least, whom I have ever seen among the long list I
have encountered,--simple, full of humour, and exceedingly ready at
repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the blue
stocking.[459]

_May_ 13.--Mr., or more properly Dr., Macintosh Mackay comes out to see
me, a simple learned man, and a Highlander who weighs his own nation
justly--a modest and estimable person.

I was beat up at midnight to sign a warrant against some delinquents. I
afterwards heard that the officers were pursued by a mob from
Galashiels, with purpose of deforcing them as far as St. Boswell's
Green, but the men were lodged in Jedburgh Castle.

Reports of mobs at all the elections, which, I fear, will prove too
true. They have much to answer for who in gaiety of heart have brought a
peaceful and virtuous population to such a pass.

_May_ 14.--Rode with Lockhart and Mr. Mackay through the plantations,
and spent a pleasanter day than of late months. Story of a haunted glen
in Laggan:--A chieftain's daughter or cousin loved a man of low degree.
Her kindred discovered the intrigue and punished the lover's presumption
by binding the unhappy man, and laying him naked in one of the large
ants' nests common in a Highland forest. He died in agony of course, and
his mistress became distracted, roamed wildly in the glen till she died,
and her phantom, finding no repose, haunted it after her death to such a
degree that the people shunned the road by day as well as night. Mrs.
Grant of Laggan tells the story, with the addition, that her husband,
then minister of Laggan, fixed a religious meeting in the place, and, by
the exercise of public worship there, overcame the popular terror of the
Red Woman. Dr. Mackay seems to think that she was rather banished by a
branch of the Parliamentary road running up the glen than by the prayers
of his predecessor. Dr. Mackay, it being Sunday, favoured us with an
excellent discourse on the Socinian controversy, which I wish my friend
Mr. Laidlaw had heard.

_May_ 15.--Dr. M. left us early this morning; and I rode and studied as
usual, working at the _Tales of My Grandfather_. Our good and learned
Doctor wishes to go down the Tweed to Berwick. It is a laudable
curiosity, and I hope will be agreeably satisfied.

_May_ 16 _and_ 17.--I wrote and rode as usual, and had the pleasure of
Miss Ferrier's company in my family hours, which was a great
satisfaction; she has certainly less affectation than any female I have
known that has stood so high--Joanna Baillie hardly excepted. By the
way, she [Mrs. Baillie] has entered on the Socinian controversy, for
which I am very sorry; she has published a number of texts on which she
conceives the controversy to rest, but it escapes her that she can only
quote them through a translation. I am sorry this gifted woman is hardly
doing herself justice, and doing what is not required at her hands. Mr.
Laidlaw of course thinks it the finest thing in the world.[460]

_May_ 18.--Went to Jedburgh to the election, greatly against the wishes
of my daughters. The mob were exceedingly vociferous and brutish, as
they usually are now-a-days. But the Sheriff had two troops of dragoons
at Ancrum Bridge, and all went off quietly. The populace gathered in
formidable numbers--a thousand from Hawick alone; they were sad
blackguards, and the day passed with much clamour and no mischief. Henry
Scott was re-elected--for the last time, I suppose. _Troja fuit._

I left the burgh in the midst of abuse and the gentle hint of "Burke Sir
Walter." Much obliged to the brave lads of Jeddart. Upwards of forty
freeholders voted for Henry Scott, and only fourteen for the puppy that
opposed him. Even of this party he gained far the greater number by the
very awkward coalition with Sir William Scott of Ancrum. I came home at
seven at night.

_May_ 20.--This is the Selkirk election, which I supposed would be as
tumultuous as the Jedburgh one, but the soutars of Selkirk had got a new
light, and saw in the proposed Reform Bill nothing but a mode of
disfranchising their ancient burgh. Although the crowd was great, yet
there was a sufficient body of special constables, hearty in their
useful office, and the election passed as quietly as I ever witnessed
one. I came home before dinner, very quiet. I am afraid there is
something serious in Galashiels; Jeffrey is fairly funked about it, and
has written letters to the authorities of Roxburghshire and Selkirkshire
to caution us against making the precognitions public, which looks ill.
Yet I think he would have made arrests when the soldiers were in the
country. The time at which I settled at Abbotsford, Whitsunday 1811, I
broke up a conspiracy of the weavers. It will look like sympathising
with any renewal if another takes place just now. Incendiary letters
have been sent, and the householders are in a general state of alarm.
The men at Jedburgh Castle are said to be disposed to make a clean
breast; if so, we shall soon know more of the matter. Lord William
Graham has been nearly murdered at Dumbarton. Why should he not have
brought down 50 or 100 lads with the kilts, each with a good kent[461]
in his hand fit to call the soul out of the body of these weavers? They
would have kept order, I warrant you.

_May_ 21.--Little more than my usual work and my usual exercise. I rode
out through the plantations and saw the woodmen getting down what was to
be felled. It seems there will be as much for sale as last year of bark:
I think about £40 worth. A very nice additional pond to the sawmill has
been executed. As for my _Tales_, they go on well, and are amusing to
myself at least. The History of France is very entertaining.

_May_ 22.--I have a letter from my friend John Thomson of Duddingston. I
had transmitted him an order for the Duke of Buccleuch for his best
picture, at his best price, leaving the choice of the subject and
everything else to himself. He expresses the wish to do, at an ordinary
price, a picture of common size. The declining to put himself forward
will, I fear, be thought like shrinking from his own reputation, which
nobody has less need to do. The Duke may wish a large picture for a
large price for furnishing a large apartment, and the artist should not
shrink from it. I have written him my opinion. The feeling is no doubt
an amiable, though a false one. He is modest in proportion to his
talents. But what brother of the finer arts ever approached [excellence]
so as to please himself?

_May_ 23, 24, _and_ 25.--Worked and exercised regularly. I do not feel
that I care twopence about the change of diet as to taste, but I feel my
strength much decayed. On horseback my spine feels remarkably sore, and
I am tired with a few miles' ride. We expect Walter coming down for the
Fife election.

       *       *       *       *       *

     [From May 25th to October 9th there are no dates in the Journal,
     but the entry beginning "I have been very ill" must have been made
     about the middle of September. "In the family circle," says Mr.
     Lockhart, "he seldom spoke of his illness at all, and when he did,
     it was always in a hopeful strain." "In private, to Laidlaw and
     myself, his language corresponded exactly with the tone of the
     Diary. He expressed his belief that the chances of recovery were
     few--very few--but always added that he considered it his duty to
     exert what faculties remained to him for the sake of his creditors
     to the very last.--'I am very anxious,' he repeatedly said to me,
     'to be done one way or other with this _Count Robert_, and a little
     story about the Castle Dangerous--which also I had long in my
     head--but after that I will attempt nothing more, at least not
     until I have finished all the notes for the Novels,'" etc.

     On the 18th July he set out in company with Mr. Lockhart to visit
     Douglas Castle, St. Bride's Church and its neighbourhood, for the
     purpose of verifying the scenery of _Castle Dangerous_, then partly
     printed, returning on the 20th.

     He finished that book and _Count Robert_ before the end of August.

     In September, Mr. Lockhart, then staying at Chiefswood, and
     proposing to make a run into Lanarkshire for a day or two,
     mentioned overnight at Abbotsford that he intended to take his
     second son, then a boy of five or six years of age, and Sir
     Walter's namesake, with him on the stage-coach.

     Next morning the following affectionate billet was put into his
     hands:--

     To J.G. LOCKHART, Esq., Chiefswood.

     "DEAR DON, or Doctor Giovanni,

     "Can you really be thinking of taking Wa-Wa by the coach--and I
     think you said outside? Think of Johnny, and be careful of this
     little man. Are you _par hazard_ something in the state of the poor
     capitaine des dragons that comes in singing:--

    'Comment? Parbleu! Qu'en pensez vous,
    Bon gentilhomme, et pas un sous'?

     "If so, remember 'Richard's himself again,' and make free use of
     the enclosed cheque on Cadell for £50. He will give you the ready
     as you pass through, and you can pay when I ask.

     "Put horses to your carriage, and go hidalgo fashion. We shall all
     have good days yet.

    'And those sad days you deign to spend
    With me I shall requite them all;
    Sir Eustace for his friends shall send
    And thank their love in Grayling Hall!'[462]

    "W.S."[463]

     On the 15th September he tells the Duke of Buccleuch, "I am going
     to try whether the air of Naples will make an old fellow of sixty
     young again."

     On the 17th the old splendour of the house was revived. Col.
     Glencairn Burns, son of the poet, then in Scotland, came

    "To stir with joy the towers of Abbotsford."

     The neighbours were assembled, and, having his son to help him, Sir
     Walter did the honours of the table once more as of yore.

     On the 19th the poet Wordsworth arrived, and left on the 22d.

     On the 20th, Mrs. Lockhart set out for London to prepare for her
     father's reception there, and on the 23d Sir Walter left Abbotsford
     for London, where he arrived on the 28th.[464]]


FOOTNOTES:

[456] Falconer's _Shipwreck_, p. 162--"The Storm." 12mo ed. London,
Albion Press, 1810.

[457] Scotch Metrical Version of the 90th Psalm.

[458] On the 18th October Sir Walter sent Mr. Burn the following
inscription for the monument he had commissioned, and which now stands
in the churchyard of Irongray:--

"This stone was erected by the Author of Waverley to the memory of Helen
Walker, who died in the year of God 1791. This humble individual
practised in real life the virtues with which fiction has invested the
imaginary character of Jeanie Deans; refusing the slightest departure
from veracity, even to save the life of a sister, she nevertheless
showed her kindness and fortitude, in rescuing her from the severity of
the law, at the expense of personal exertions, which the time rendered
as difficult as the motive was laudable. Respect the grave of Poverty
when combined with the love of Truth and dear affection."

It is well known that on the publication of _Old Mortality_ many people
were offended by what was considered a caricature of the Covenanters,
and that Dr. M'Crie, the biographer of Knox, wrote a series of papers in
the _Edinburgh Christian Instructor_, which Scott affected to despise,
and said he would not read. He not only was obliged to read the
articles, but found it necessary to inspire or write an elaborate
defence of the truth of his own picture of the Covenanters in the Number
for January 1817 of the _Quarterly Review_.

In June 1818, however, he made ample amends, and won the hearts of all
classes of his countrymen by his beautiful pictures of national
character in the _Heart of Midlothian_.

It is worth noticing also that ten years later, viz., in December 1828,
his friend Richardson having written that in the _Tales of a
Grandfather_ "You have paid a debt which you owed to the manes of the
Covenanters for the flattering picture which you drew of Claverhouse in
_Old Mortality_. His character is inconceivable to me: the atrocity of
his murder of those peasants, as undauntedly devoted to their own good
cause as himself to his, his personal (almost hangman-like)
superintendence of their executions, are wholly irreconcilable with a
chivalrous spirit, which, however scornful of the lowly, could never, in
my mind, be cruel," Scott, in reply, gave his matured opinion in the
following words:--

"As to Covenanters and Malignants, they were both a set of cruel and
bloody bigots, and had, notwithstanding, those virtues with which
bigotry is sometimes allied. Their characters were of a kind much more
picturesque than beautiful; neither had the least idea either of
toleration or humanity, so that it happens that, so far as they can be
distinguished from each other, one is tempted to hate most the party
which chances to be uppermost for the time."

[459] See Miss Ferrier's account of this visit prefixed to Mr. Bentley's
choice edition of her works, 6 vols. cr. 8vo, London, 1881.

[460] Mr. Carruthers remarks in his Abbotsford _Notanda_:--"Joanna
Baillie published a thin volume of selections from the New Testament
'regarding the nature and dignity of Jesus Christ.' The tendency of the
work was Socinian, or at least Arian, and Scott was indignant that his
friend should have meddled with such a subject. 'What had she to do with
questions of that sort?' He refused to add the book to his library and
gave it to Laidlaw."--p. 179.

[461] A long staff.

[462] See Crabbe's _Sir Eustace Grey_.

[463] _Life_, vol. x. pp. 100-1.

[464] See _Life_, vol. x. pp. 76-106.




OCTOBER.

INTERVAL.


I have been very ill, and if not quite unable to write, I have been
unfit to do so. I have wrought, however, at two Waverley things, but not
well, and, what is worse, past mending. A total prostration of bodily
strength is my chief complaint. I cannot walk half a mile. There is,
besides, some mental confusion, with the extent of which I am not
perhaps fully acquainted. I am perhaps setting. I am myself inclined to
think so, and, like a day that has been admired as a fine one, the light
of it sets down amid mists and storms. I neither regret nor fear the
approach of death if it is coming. I would compound for a little pain
instead of this heartless muddiness of mind which renders me incapable
of anything rational. The expense of my journey will be something
considerable, which I can provide against by borrowing £500 from Mr.
Gibson. To Mr. Cadell I owe already, with the cancels on these
apoplectic books, about £200, and must run it up to £500 more at least;
yet this heavy burthen would be easily borne if I were to be the Walter
Scott I once was; but the change is great. This would be nothing,
providing that I could count on these two books having a sale equal to
their predecessors; but as they do not deserve the same countenance,
they will not and cannot have such a share of favour, and I have only to
hope that they will not involve the _Waverley_, which are now selling
30,000 volumes a month, in their displeasure. Something of a Journal and
the _Reliquiae Trotcosienses_ will probably be moving articles, and I
have in short no fears in pecuniary matters. The ruin which I fear
involves that of my King and country. Well says Colin Mackenzie:--

    "Shall this desolation strike thy towers alone?
    No, fair Ellandonan! such ruin 'twill bring,
    That the storm shall have power to unsettle the throne,
    And thy fate shall be mixed with the fate of thy King."[465]

I fear that the great part of the memorialists are bartering away the
dignity of their rank by seeking to advance themselves by a job, which
is a melancholy sight. The ties between democrat and aristocrat are
sullen discontent with each other. The former are regarded as a
house-dog which has manifested incipient signs of canine madness, and is
not to be trusted. Walter came down to-day to join our party.

[_September_ 20?]--Yesterday, Wordsworth, his son [nephew[466]] and
daughter, came to see us, and we went up to Yarrow. The eldest son of
Lord Ravensworth also came to see us, with his accomplished lady. We had
a pleasant party, and to-day were left by the Liddells, _manent_ the
three Wordsworths, _cum cæteris_, a German or Hungarian Count Erdödy, or
some such name.

We arrived in London [September 28,] after a long and painful journey,
the weakness of my limbs palpably increasing, and the physic prescribed
making me weaker every day. Lockhart, poor fellow, is as attentive as
possible, and I have, thank God, no pain whatever; could the end be as
easy it would be too happy. I fancy the instances of Euthanasia are not
very uncommon. Instances there certainly are among the learned and the
unlearned--Dr.

Black, Tom Purdie. I should wish, if it please God, to sleep off in
such a quiet way; but we must take what Fate sends. I have not warm
hopes of being myself again.

Wordsworth and his daughter, a fine girl, were with us on the last day.
I tried to write in her diary, and made an ill-favoured botch--no help
for it. "Stitches will wear, and ill ones will out," as the tailor
says.[467]

[_October_ 8, London.]--The King has located me on board the _Barham_,
with my suite, consisting of my eldest son, youngest daughter, and
perhaps my daughter-in-law, which, with poor Charles, will make a goodly
tail. I fancy the head of this tail cuts a poor figure, scarce able to
stir about.

The town is in a foam with politics. The report is that the Lords will
throw out the Bill, and now, morning of 8th October, I learn it is
quoited downstairs like a shovel-board shilling, with a plague to it, as
the most uncalled-for attack upon a free constitution, under which men
lived happily, which ever was ventured in my day. Well, it would have
been pleasing to have had some share in so great a victory, yet even now
I am glad I have been quiet. I believe I should only have made a bad
figure. Well, I will have time enough to think of all this.

_October_ 9.--The report to-day is that the Chancellor[468] will unite
with the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel to bring in a Bill of
his own concocting, modified to the taste of the other two, with which
some think they will be satisfied. This is not very unlikely, for Lord
Brougham has been displeased with not having been admitted to Lord John
Russell's task of bill-drawing. He is a man of unbounded ambition, as
well as unbounded talent and [uncertain] temper. There have been hosts
of people here, particularly the Duke of Buccleuch, to ask me to the
christening of his son and heir, when the King stands godfather. I am
asked as an ally and friend of the family, which makes the compliment
greater. Singular that I should have stood godfather to this Duke
himself, representing some great man.

_October_ 10.--Yesterday we dined alone, so I had an opportunity of
speaking seriously to John; but I fear procrastination. It is the cry of
Friar Bacon's Brazen head, _time is--time was_; but the time may soon
come--_time shall be no more_. The Whigs are not very bold, not much
above a hundred met to support Lord Grey to the last. Their resolutions
are moderate, probably because they could not have carried stronger. I
went to breakfast at Sir Robert Henry Inglis', and coming home about
twelve found the mob rising in the Regent's Park, and roaring for Reform
as rationally as a party of Angusshire cattle would have done.

Sophia seemed to act as the jolly host in the play. "These are my
windows," and, shutting the shutters, "let them batter--I care not
serving the good Duke of Norfolk." After a time they passed out of our
sight, hurrying doubtless to seek a more active scene of reformation. As
the night closed, the citizens who had hitherto contented themselves
with shouting, became more active, and when it grew dark set forth to
make work for the glaziers.

_October_ 11, _Tuesday_.--We set out in the morning to breakfast with
Lady Gifford. We passed several glorious specimens of the last night's
feats of the reformers. The Duke of Newcastle's and Lord Dudley's houses
were sufficiently broken. The maidens, however, had resisted, and from
the top of the house with coals, which had greatly embarrassed the
assembled mob. Surely if the people are determined on using a right so
questionable, and the Government resolved to consider it as too sacred
to be resisted, some modes of resistance might be resorted to of a
character more ludicrous than firearms,--coals, for example, scalding
oil, boiling water, or some other mode of defence against a sudden
attack. We breakfasted with a very pleasant party at Lady Gifford's. I
was particularly happy to meet Lord Sidmouth; at seventy-five, he tells
me, as much in health and spirits as at sixty. I also met Captain Basil
Hall, to whom I owe so much for promoting my retreat in so easy a
manner. I found my appointment to the _Barham_ had been pointed out by
Captain Henry Duncan, R.N., as being a measure which would be
particularly agreeable to the officers of the service. This is too high
a compliment. In returning I called to see the repairs at Lambeth, which
are proceeding under the able direction of Blore, who met me there. They
are in the best Gothic taste, and executed at the expense of a large
sum, to be secured by way of mortgage, payable in fifty years; each
incumbent within the time paying a proportion of about £4000 a year. I
was pleased to see this splendour of church architecture returning
again.

Lord Mahon, a very amiable as well as a clever young man, comes to
dinner with Mr. Croker; Lady Louisa Stuart in the afternoon, or, more
properly, at night.

_October_ 12.--Misty morning--looks like a yellow fog, which is the
curse of London. I would hardly take my share of it for a share of its
wealth and its curiosity--a vile double-distilled fog of the most
intolerable kind. Children scarce stirring yet, but baby and the Macaw
beginning their Macaw notes. Among other feats of the mob on Monday, a
gentleman who saw the onslaught told me two men got on Lord
Londonderry's carriage and struck him; the chief constable came to the
rescue and belaboured the rascals, who ran and roared. I should have
liked to have seen the onslaught--Dry beating, and plenty of it, is a
great operator of a reform among these gentry. At the same time Lord
Londonderry is a brain-sick man, very unlike his brother. He
horsewhipped a sentinel under arms at Vienna for obeying his _consigne_,
which was madness. On the other side all seems to be prepared. Heavy
bodies of the police are stationed in all the squares and places
supporting each other regularly. The men themselves say that their
numbers amount to 3000, and that they are supported by troops in still
greater numbers, so that the Conservative force is sufficiently strong.
Four o'clock--a letter from the Duke saying the party is put off by
command of the King, and probably the day will be put off until the
Duke's return from Scotland, so our hopes of seeing the fine ceremony
are all ended.

_October_ 13.--_Nocte pluit tota_--an excellent recipe for a mob, so
they have been quiet accordingly, as we are informed. Two or three other
wet nights would do much to weary them out with inactivity. Milman, whom
I remember a fine gentlemanlike young man, dined here yesterday. He says
the fires have never ceased in his country, but that the oppressions and
sufferings occasioned by the poor's rates are very great, and there is
no persuading the English farmer that an amended system is comfortable
both for rich and poor. The plan of ministers is to keep their places
maugre Peers and Commons both, while they have the countenance of the
crown; but if a Prince shelters, by authority of the prerogative,
ministers against the will of the other authority of the state, does he
not quit the defence which supposes he can do no wrong? This doctrine
would make a curious change of parties. Will they attempt to legitimize
the Fitz Clarences? God forbid! Yet it may end in that,--it would be
Paris all over. The family is said to have popular qualities. Then what
would be the remedy? Marry! seize on the person of the Princess
Victoria, carrying her north and setting up the banner of England with
the Duke of W. as dictator! Well, I am too old to fight, and therefore
should keep the windy side of the law; besides, I shall be buried before
times come to a decision. In the meantime the King dare not go to stand
godfather to the son of one of his most powerful peers, a party of his
own making, lest his loving subjects pull the house about the ears of
his noble host and the company invited to meet him. Their loyalty has a
pleasant way of displaying itself. I will go to Westminster after
breakfast and see what people are saying, and whether the _Barham_ is
likely to sail, or whether its course is not altered to the coast of the
Low Countries instead of the Mediterranean.

_October_ 14.--Tried to walk to Lady Louisa Stuart's, but took a little
vertigo and came back. Much disturbed by a letter from Walter. He is
like to be sent on an obnoxious service with very inadequate force,
little prospect of thanks if he does his duty, and much of blame if he
is unable to accomplish it. I have little doubt he will ware his
mother's calf-skin on them.

The manufacturing districts are in great danger. London seems pretty
secure. Sent off the revise of introduction to Mr. Cadell.[469]

_October_ 16.--A letter from Walter with better news. He has been at
hard-heads with the rogues and come off with advantage; in short,
practised with success the art of drawing two souls out of one
weaver.[470] All seems quiet now, and I suppose the Major will get his
leave as proposed. Two ladies--[one] Byron's Mary Chaworth--have been
frightened to death while the mob tore the dying creatures from their
beds and proposed to throw them into the flames, drank the wine,
destroyed the furniture, and committed other excesses of a
jacquerie.[471] They have been put down, however, by a strong force of
yeomanry and regulars. Walter says the soldiers fired over the people's
heads, whereas if they had levelled low, the bullets must have told more
among the multitude. I cannot approve of this, for in such cases
severity is ultimate mercy.[472] However, if they have made a
sufficient impression to be striking--why, enough is as good as a feast.

There is a strange story about town of ghost-seeing vouched by Lord
Prudhoe, a near relation of the Duke of Northumberland, and whom I know
as an honourable man. A colonel described as a cool-headed sensible man
of worth and honour, Palgrave, who dined with us yesterday, told us
twice over the story as vouched by Lord Prudhoe, and Lockhart gave us
Colonel Felix's edition, which coincided exactly. I will endeavour to
extract the essence of both. While at Grand Cairo they were attracted by
the report of a physician who could do the most singular magical feats,
and was in the habit not only of relieving the living, but calling up
the dead. This sage was the member of a tribe in the interior part of
Africa. They were some time (two years) in finding him out, for he by no
means pressed himself on the curious, nor did he on the other hand avoid
them; but when he came to Grand Cairo readily agreed to gratify them by
a sight of his wonders. The scenes exhibited were not visible to the
operator himself, nor to the person for whose satisfaction they were
called up, but, as in the case of Dr. Dee and other adepts, by means of
a viewer, an ignorant Nubian boy, whom, to prevent imposition, the
English gentlemen selected for the purpose, and, as they thought,
without any risk of imposture by confederacy betwixt him and the
physician. The process was as follows:--A black square was drawn in the
palm of the boy's hand, or rather a kind of pentacle with an Arabic
character inscribed at each angle. The figures evoked were seen through
this space as if the substance of the hand had been removed. Magic
rites, and particularly perfumes, were liberally resorted to. After
some fumigation the magician declared that they could not proceed until
the seven flags should become visible. The boy declared he saw nothing,
then said he saw a flag, then two; often hesitated at the number for a
certain time, and on several occasions the spell did not work and the
operation went no further, but in general the boy saw the seven flags
through the aperture in his hand. The magician then said they must call
the Sultan, and the boy said he saw a splendid tent fixed, surrounded by
immense hosts, Eblis no doubt, and his angels. The person evoked was
then named, and appeared accordingly. The only indispensable requisite
was that he was named speedily, for the Sultan did not like to be kept
waiting. Accordingly, William Shakespeare being named, the boy declared
that he saw a Frank in a dress which he described as that of the reign
of Elizabeth or her successor, having a singular countenance, a high
forehead, and a very little beard. Another time a brother of the Colonel
was named. The boy said he saw a Frank in his uniform dress and a black
groom behind him leading a superb horse. The dress was a red jacket and
white pantaloons; and the principal figure turning round, the boy
announced that he wanted his arm, as was the case with Felix's brother.
The ceremony was repeated fourteen times; successfully in twelve
instances, and in two it failed from non-appearance of the seven banners
in the first instance. The apparent frankness of the operator was not
the least surprising part of the affair. He made no mystery, said he
possessed this power by inheritance, as a family gift; yet that he could
teach it, and was willing to do so, for no enormous sum--nay, one which
seemed very moderate. I think two gentlemen embraced the offer. One of
them is dead and the other still abroad. The sage also took a price for
the exhibition of his skill, but it was a moderate one, being regulated
by the extent of the perfumes consumed in the ceremony.

There remains much more to ask I understood the witnesses do not like to
bother about, which is very natural. One would like to know a little
more of the Sultan, of the care taken to secure the fidelity of the boy
who was the viewer and on whom so much depended; whether another sage
practising the same feat, as it was said to be hereditary, was ever
known to practise in the city. The truth of a story irreconcilable with
the common course of nature must depend on cross-examination. If we
should find, while at Malta, that we had an opportunity of expiscating
this matter, though at the expense of a voyage to Alexandria, it would
hardly deter me.[473] The girls go to the Chapel Royal this morning at
St. James's. A visit from the Honourable John Forbes, son of my old and
early friend Lord Forbes, who is our fellow-passenger. The ship expects
presently to go to sea. I was very glad to see this young officer and
to hear his news. Drummond and I have been Mends from our infancy.

_October_ 17.--The morning beautiful. To-day I go to look after the
transcripts in the Museum and have a card to see a set of chessmen[474]
thrown up by the sea on the coast of Scotland, which were offered to
sale for £100. The King, Queen, Knights, etc., were in the costume of
the 14th century, the substance ivory or rather the tusk of the morse,
somewhat injured by the salt water in which they had been immersed for
some time.

Sir John Malcolm told us a story about Garrick and his wife. The lady
admired her husband greatly, but blamed him for a taste for low life,
and insisted that he loved better to play Scrub to a low-lifed audience
than one of his superior characters before an audience of taste. On one
particular occasion she was in her box in the theatre. _Richard III_.
was the performance, and Garrick's acting, especially in the night
scene, drew down universal applause. After the play was over Mrs. G.
proposed going home, which Garrick declined, alleging he had some
business in the green-room, which must detain him. In short, the lady
was obliged to acquiesce, and wait the beginning of a new entertainment,
in which was introduced a farmer giving his neighbours an account of the
wonders seen on a visit to London. This character was received with such
peals of applause that Mrs. Garrick began to think it rivalled those
which had been so lately lavished on Richard the Third. At last she
observed her little spaniel dog was making efforts to get towards the
balcony which separated him from the facetious farmer. Then she became
aware of the truth. "How strange," she said, "that a dog should know his
master, and a woman, in the same circumstances, should not recognise her
husband!"

_October 18_.--Sophia had a small but lively party last night, as indeed
she has had every night since we were here--Ladies--[Lady Stafford,]
Lady Louisa Stuart, Lady Montagu, Miss Montagu, Lady [Davy], [Mrs.]
Macleod, and two or three others; Gentlemen--Lord Montagu, Macleod, Lord
Dudley, Rogers [Mackintosh]. A good deal of singing. If Sophia keeps to
early hours she may beat London for small parties as poor Miss White
did, and without much expense. A little address is all that is
necessary. Sir John[475] insists on my meeting this Rammohun Roy;[476] I
am no believer in his wandering knight, so far. The time is gone of
sages who travelled to collect wisdom as well as heroes to reap honour.
Men think and fight for money. I won't see the man if I can help it.
Flatterers are difficult enough to keep at a distance though they be no
renegades. I hate a fellow who begins with throwing away his own
religion, and then affects a prodigious respect for another.

_October 19_.--Captain H. Duncan called with Captain Pigot, a
smart-looking gentlemanlike man, and announces his purpose of sailing on
Monday. I have made my preparations for being on board on Sunday, which
is the day appointed. Captain Duncan told me jocularly never to take a
naval captain's word on shore, and quoted Sir William Scott, who used to
say, waggishly, that there was nothing so accommodating as a naval
captain on shore; but when on board he became a peremptory lion. Henry
Duncan has behaved very kindly, and says he only discharges the wishes
of his service in making me as easy as possible, which is very handsome.
No danger of feud, except about politics, which would be impolite on my
part, and though it bars out one great subject of discourse, it leaves
enough besides. That I might have nothing doubtful, Walter arrives with
his wife, ready to sail, so what little remains must be done without
loss of time. This is our last morning, so I have money to draw for and
pay away. To see our dear Lord Montagu too. The Duchess came yesterday.
I suppose £50 will clear me, with some balance for Gibraltar.

I leave this country uncertain if it has got a total pardon or only a
reprieve. I won't think of it, as I can do no good. It seems to be in
one of those crises by which Providence reduces nations to their
original elements.[477] If I had my health, I should take no worldly
fee, not to be in the bustle; but I am as weak as water, and I shall be
glad when I have put the Mediterranean between the island and me.

_October 21 and 22_.--Spent in taking of farewell and adieus, which had
been put off till now. A melancholy ceremonial, with some a useless one;
yet there are friends whom it sincerely touches one to part with. It is
the cement of life giving way in a moment. Another unpleasant
circumstance is--one is called upon to recollect those whom death or
estrangement has severed, after starting merrily together in the voyage
of life.

_October 23_.--Portsmouth; arrived here in the evening. Found the
_Barham_ will not sail till 26th October, that is Wednesday next. The
girls break loose, mad with the craze of seeing sights, and run the risk
of our losing some of our things and deranging the naval officers, who
offer their services with their natural gallantry. Captain Pigot came to
breakfast, with several other officials. The girls contrived to secure a
sight of the Block manufactory, together with that of the Biscuit, also
invented by Brunel. I think that I have seen the first of these
wonderful [sights] in 1816, or about that time.[478] Sir Thomas Foley
gives an entertainment to the Admiralty, and sends to invite [me]; but I
pleaded health, and remained at home. Neither will I go out
sight-seeing, which madness seems to have seized my womankind. This
ancient town is one of the few in England which is fortified, and which
gives it a peculiar appearance. It is much surrounded with heaths or
thin poor muirs covered with heather, very barren, yet capable of being
converted into rich arable and pasturage. I would [not] desire a better
estate than to have 2000 acres which would be worth 40 shillings an
acre.

_October_ 24.--My womankind are gone out with Walter and Captain Hall. I
wish they would be moderate in their demands on people's complaisance.
They little know how inconvenient are such seizures. A sailor is in
particular a bad refuser, and before he can turn three times round, he
is bound with a triple knot to all kinds of [engagements]. The wind is
west, that is to say contrary, so our sailing on the day after to-morrow
is highly doubtful.

_October_ 25.--A gloomy October day, the wind inflexibly constant in the
west, which is fatal. Sir James Graham proposes to wait upon us after
breakfast. A trouble occurs about my taking an oath before a
master-extraordinary in Chancery; but such cannot easily be found, as
they reside in chambers in town, and rusticate after business, so they
are difficult to catch as an eel. At ten my children set off to the
dockyard, which is a most prodigious effort of machinery, and they are
promised the sight of an anchor in the act of being forged, a most
cyclopean sight. Walter is to call upon the solicitor and appoint him to
be with [me] by twelve.

About the reign of Henry VIII. the French took the pile, as it was
called, of----,[479] but were beat off. About the end of the American
war, an individual named John Aitken, or John the Painter, undertook to
set the dockyard on fire, and in some degree accomplished his purpose.
He had no accomplice, and to support himself committed solitary
robberies. Being discovered, he long hung in chains near the outward
fortifications. Last night a deputation of the Literary and
Philosophical Society of [Portsmouth] came to present me with the
honorary freedom of their body, which I accepted with becoming
gratitude. There is little credit in gathering the name of a disabled
invalid. Here I am, going a long and curious tour without ability to
walk a quarter of a mile; quere, what hope of recovery? I think and
think in vain, when attempting to trace the progress of this disease and
so gradually has my health declined, that I believe it has been acting
upon me for ten years, gradually diminishing my strength. My mental
faculties may perhaps recover; my bodily strength cannot return unless
climate has an effect on the human frame which I cannot possibly believe
or comprehend. The safe resolution is, to try no foolish experiments,
but make myself as easy as I can, without suffering myself to be vexed
about what I cannot help. If I sit on the deck and look at Vesuvius, it
will be all I ought to think of.

Having mentioned John the Painter, I may add that it was in this town of
Portsmouth that the Duke of Buckingham was stabbed to death by Felton, a
fanatic of the same kind with the Incendiary, though perpetrator of a
more manly crime. This monster-breeding age can afford both Feltons and
John Aitkens in abundance. Every village supplies them, while in fact a
deep feeling of the coarsest selfishness furnishes the ruling motive,
instead of an affectation of public spirit--that hackneyed affectation
of patriotism, as like the reality as a Birmingham halfpenny to a
guinea.

The girls, I regret to see, have got a senseless custom of talking
politics in all weathers and in all sorts of company. This can do no
good, and may give much offence. Silence can offend no one, and there
are pleasanter or less irritating subjects to talk of. I gave them both
a hint of this, and bid them both remember they were among ordinary
strangers. How little young people reflect what they may win or lose by
a smart reflection imprudently fired off at a venture!

Mr. Barrow of the Admiralty came and told us the whole fleet, _Barham_
excepted, were ordered to the North Sea to help to bully the King of
Holland, and that Captain Pigot, whose motions are of more importance to
us than those of the whole British Navy, sails, as certainly as these
things can be prophesied, on Thursday, 27th October.

_October_ 26.--Here we still are, fixed by the inexorable wind.
Yesterday we asked a few old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, and two or
three others, to tea and talk. I engaged in a new novel, by Mr.
Smith,[480] called _New Forest_. It is written in an old style,
calculated to meet the popular ideas--somewhat like "Man as he is
not"[481] and that class. The author's opinions seem rather to sit loose
upon him and to be adopted for the nonce and not very well brought out.
His idea of a hero is an American philosopher with all the affected
virtues of a Republican which no man believes in.

This is very tiresome--not to be able to walk abroad for an instant,
but to be kept in this old house which they call "The Fountain," a
mansion made of wood in imitation of a ship. The timbers were well tried
last night during the squall. The barometer has sunk an inch very
suddenly, which seems to argue a change, and probably a deliverance from
port. Sir Michael Seymour, Mr. Harris, Captain Lawrence came to greet us
after breakfast; also Sir James Graham. They were all learned on this
change of weather which seems to be generally expected. I had a good
mess of Tory chat with Mr. Harris. We hope to see his daughters in the
evening. He keeps his courage amid the despair of too many of his party.
About one o'clock our Kofle, as Mungo Park words it, set out, self
excluded, to witness the fleet sailing from the ramparts.

_October_ 27.--The weather is more moderate and there is a chance of our
sailing. We whiled away our time as we could, relieved by several kind
visits. We realised the sense of hopeless expectation described by
Fielding in his Voyage to Lisbon, which identical tract Captain Hall,
who in his eagerness to be kind seems in possession of the wishing-cap
of Fortunatus, was able to provide for us. To-morrow is spoken of as
certainly a day to move.

_October_ 28.--But the wind is as unfavourable as ever and I take a
hobbling morning walk upon the rampart, where I am edified by a
good-natured officer who shows me the place, marked by a buoy, where the
_Royal George_ went down "with twice four hundred men."[482] Its hull
forms a shoal which is still in existence, a neglect scarcely
reconcilable with the splendour of our proceedings where our navy is
concerned. Saw a battle on the rampart between two sailor boys, who
fought like game-cocks. Returned to "The Fountain," to a voluminous
breakfast. Captain Pigot calls, with little hope of sailing to-day. I
made my civil affidavit yesterday to a master extraordinary in Chancery,
which I gave to Sophia last night.

_October_ 29 (The _Barham_).--The weather is changed and I think we
shall sail. Captain Forbes comes with offer of the Admiral Sir Michael
Seymour's barge, but we must pause on our answer. I have had a very
disturbed night. Captain Pigot's summons is at length brought by his own
announcement, and the same time the Admiral's barge attends for our
accommodation and puts us and our baggage on board the _Barham_, a
beautiful ship, a 74 cut down to a 50, and well deserving all the
commendations bestowed on her. The weather a calm which is almost equal
to a favourable wind, so we glide beautifully along by the Isle of Wight
and the outside of the island. We landsfolk feel these queerish
sensations, when, without being in the least sick, we are not quite
well. We dine enormously and take our cot at nine o'clock, when we sleep
undisturbed till seven.

_October_ 30.--Find the Bill of Portland in sight, having run about
forty miles during the night. About the middle of the day turn sea-sick
and retire to my berth for the rest of the evening.

_October_ 31.--A sleepless night and a bilious morning, yet not so very
uncomfortable as the phrase may imply. The bolts clashed, and made me
dream of poor Bran. The wind being nearly completely contrary, we have
by ten o'clock gained Plymouth and of course will stand westward for
Cape Finisterre; terrible tossing and much sea-sickness, beating our
passage against the turn. I may as well say we had a parting visit from
Lady Graham, who came off in a steamer, saluted us in the distance and
gave us by signal her "bon voyage." On Sunday we had prayers and Service
from Mr. Marshall, our Chaplain, a Trinity College youth, who made a
very respectable figure.

FOOTNOTES:

[465] See "Ellandonan Castle," in the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish
Border_, Scott's _Poetical Works_, vol. iv. p. 361.

[466] Now the Bishop of St. Andrews. As has been already said,
Wordsworth arrived on the 19th and left on the 22d September, _i.e._ the
visit lasted from Monday till Thursday. There are no dates in the
Journal between May 25 and October 8, but Wordsworth says, "At noon on
Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the morning of that day Sir Walter
and I had a serious conversation _tête-à-tête_, when he spoke with
gratitude of the happy life which upon the whole he had led."--Knight's
_Wordsworth_, vol. iii. p. 201.

[467] Wordsworth notes that on placing the volume in his daughter's
hand, Sir Walter said, "I should not have done anything of this kind but
for your father's sake; they are probably the last verses I shall ever
write."--Knight's _Wordsworth_, vol. iii. p. 201.

[468] Lord Brougham.

[469] The introductory address to _Count Robert of Paris_ bears the date
October 15th, 1831.

[470] _Twelfth Night_, Act II. Sc. 3.

[471] See Moore's edition of _Byron's Works_, vol. vii. pp. 43-44, note.

[472] Scott's views received strong confirmation a few days later at
Bristol, where the authorities, through mistaken humanity, hesitated to
order the military to act.

[473] At Malta, accordingly, we find Sir Walter making inquiry regarding
this Arabian conjurer, and writing to Mr. Lockhart, on Nov. 1831, in the
following terms:--

"I have got a key to the conjuring story of Alexandria and Grand Cairo.
I have seen very distinct letters of Sir John Stoddart's son, who
attended three of the formal exhibitions which broke down, though they
were repeated afterwards with success. Young Stoddart is an excellent
Arabian scholar--an advantage which I understand is more imperfectly
enjoyed by Lord Prudhoe and Colonel Felix. Much remains to be explained,
but the boldness of the attempt exceeds anything since the days of the
Automaton chess-player, or the Bottle conjurer. The first time
Shakespeare was evoked he appeared in the complexion of an Arab. This
seems to have been owing to the first syllable of his name, which
resembled the Arabian word _Sheik_, and suggested the idea of an Arabian
chief to the conjurer. A gentleman named Galloway has bought the secret,
and talks of being frightened. There can be little doubt that, having so
far interested himself, it would become his interest to put the conjurer
more up to the questions likely to be asked. So he was more perfect when
consulted by Lord Prudhoe than at first, when he made various blunders,
and when we must needs say _falsum in uno falsum in omnibus_. As all
this will come out one day, I have no wish to mingle in the
controversy.... There are still many things to explain, but I think the
mystery is unearthed completely."

See also Lane's _Egyptians_ for an account of what appears to be the
same man in 1837. Also _Quarterly Review_, No. 117, pp. 196-208, for an
examination of this "Magic Mirror" exhibition.

[474] A hoard of seventy-eight chessmen found in the island of Lewis in
1831. The greater number of the figures were purchased for the British
Museum, and formed the subject of a learned dissertation by Sir
Frederick Madden; see _Archæologia,_ xxiv. Eleven of these very
interesting pieces fell into the hands of Scott's friend, C.K. Sharpe,
and afterwards of Lord Londesborough. More recently these identical
pieces were purchased for the Museum of Antiquities, Edinburgh, where
they now are. See _Proc. Soc. Antiq.,_ vol. xxiii.

[475] Sir John Malcolm, who was at this time M.P. for Launceston. His
last public appearance was in London, at a meeting convened for the
purpose of raising a monument of his friend Sir Walter, and his
concluding words were, that when he himself "was gone, his son might be
proud to say that his father had been among the contributors to that
shrine of genius." Sir John was struck down by paralysis on the
following day, and died in May 1833.

[476] The celebrated Brahmin philosopher and theist; born in Bengal
about 1774, died at Stapleton Grove, near Bristol, September 27, 1833.

[477] Sir Walter's fears for the country were also shared by some of the
wisest men in it. The Duke of Wellington, it is well known, was most
desponding, and he anticipated greater horror from a convulsion here
than in any other European nation.

Talleyrand said to the Duke during the Reform Bill troubles, "Duke of
Wellington, you have seen a great deal of the world. Can you point out
to me any one place in Europe where an old man could go to and be quite
sure of being safe and dying in peace?"--Stanhope _Notes_, p. 224.

[478] See Mr. Charles Cowan's privately printed _Reminiscences_ for
Scott's recollections of his visit to Portsmouth in 1816, and his
stories, of the wonders he had seen, to the little boy at his side.

[479] Compare Froude's _History_, vol. iv. p. 424.

[480] Mr. Horace Smith, one of the authors of _Rejected Addresses_.

[481] An anonymous novel, published some years earlier in 4 vols. 12mo.

[482] Cowper's Monody.




NOVEMBER.


_November_ 1.--The night was less dismal than yesterday, and we hold our
course, though with an unfavourable wind, and make, it is said, about
forty miles progress. After all, this sort of navigation recommends the
steamer, which forces its way whether the breeze will or no.

_November_ 2.--Wind as cross as two sticks, with nasty squalls of wind
and rain. We keep dodging about the Lizard and Land's End without ever
getting out of sight of these interesting terminations of Old England.
Keep the deck the whole day though bitter cold. Betake myself to my
berth at nine, though it is liker to my coffin.

_November_ 3.--Sea-sickness has pretty much left us, but the nights are
far from voluptuous, as Lord Stowell says. After breakfast I established
myself in the after-cabin to read and write as well as I can, whereof
this is a bad specimen.

_November_ 4.--The current unfavourable, and the ship pitching a great
deal; yet the vessel on the whole keeps her course, and we get on our
way with hope of reaching Cape Finisterre when it shall please God.

_November_ 5.--We still creep on this petty pace from day to day without
being able to make way, but also without losing any. Meanwhile,
_Fröhlich!_ we become freed from the nausea and disgust of the
sea-sickness and are chirruping merrily. Spend the daylight chiefly on
deck, where the sailors are trained in exercising the great guns on a
new sort of carriage called, from the inventor, Marshall's, which seems
ingenious.

_November_ 6.--No progress to-day; the ship begins to lay her course but
makes no great way. Appetite of the passengers excellent, which we amuse
at the expense of the sea stock. Cold beef and biscuit. I feel myself
very helpless on board, but everybody is ready to assist me.

_November_ 7.--The wind still holds fair, though far from blowing
steadily, but by fits and variably. No object to look at--

    "One wide water all around us,
    All above us one 'grey' sky."[483]

There are neither birds in the air, fish in the sea, nor objects on face
of the waters. It is odd that though once so great a smoker I now never
think on a cigar; so much the better.

_November_ 8.--As we begin to get southward we feel a milder and more
pleasing temperature, and the wind becomes decidedly favourable when we
have nearly traversed the famous Bay of Biscay. We now get into a sort
of trade wind blowing from the East.

_November_ 9.--This morning run seventy miles from twelve at night. This
is something like going. Till now, bating the rolling and pitching, we
lay

    "... as idle as a painted ship
    Upon a painted ocean."

_November_ 10.--Wind changes and is both mild and favourable. We pass
Cape Ortegal, see a wild cluster of skerries or naked rocks called
Berlingas rising out of the sea like M'Leod's Maidens off the Isle of
Skye.

_November_ 11.--Wind still more moderate and fair, yet it is about
eleven knots an hour. We pass Oporto and Lisbon in the night. See the
coast of Portugal: a bare wild country, with here and there a church or
convent. If it keeps fair this evening we [make] Gibraltar, which would
be very desirable. Our sailors have been exercised at a species of sword
exercise, which recalls many recollections.

_November_ 12.--The favourable wind gets back to its quarters in the
south-west, and becomes what the Italians call the Sirocco, abominated
for its debilitating qualities. I cannot say I feel them, but I dreamt
dreary dreams all night, which are probably to be imputed to the
Sirocco. After all, it is not an uncomfortable wind to a Caledonian wild
and stern. Ink won't serve.

_November_ 13.--The wind continues unaccommodating all night, and we see
nothing, although we promised ourselves to have seen Gibraltar, or at
least Tangiers, this morning, but we are disappointed of both. Tangiers
reminded me of my old Antiquarian friend Auriol Hay Drummond, who is
Consul there.[484] Certainly if a human voice could have made its hail
heard through a league or two of contending wind and wave, it must have
been Auriol Drummond's. I remember him at a dinner given by some of his
friends when he left Edinburgh, where he discharged a noble part "self
pulling like Captain Crowe 'for dear life, for dear life' against the
whole boat's crew," speaking, that is, against 30 members of a drunken
company and maintaining the predominance. Mons Meg was at that time his
idol. He had a sort of avarice of proper names, and, besides half a
dozen which were his legitimately, he had a claim to be called
_Garvadh_, which uncouth appellation he claimed on no very good
authority to be the ancient name of the Hays--a tale. I loved him
dearly; he had high spirits, a zealous faith, good-humour, and
enthusiasm, and it grieves me that I must pass within ten miles of him
and leave him unsaluted; for mercy-a-ged what a yell of gratitude would
there be! I would put up with a good rough gale which would force us
into Tangiers and keep us there for a week, but the wind is only in
gentle opposition, like a well-drilled spouse. Gibraltar we shall see
this evening, Tangiers becomes out of the question. Captain says we will
lie by during the night, sooner than darkness shall devour such an
object of curiosity, so we must look sharp for the old rock.

_November_ 14.--The horizon is this morning full of remembrances. Cape
St. Vincent, Cape Spartel, Tarifa, Trafalgar--all spirit-stirring
sounds, are within our ken, and recognised with enthusiasm both by the
old sailors whose memory can reinvest them with their terrors, and by
the naval neophytes who hope to emulate the deeds of their fathers. Even
a non-combatant like myself feels his heart beat faster and fuller,
though it is only with the feeling of the unworthy boast of the
substance in the fable, _nos poma natamus_.

I begin to ask myself, Do I feel any symptoms of getting better from the
climate?--which is delicious,--and I cannot reply with the least
consciousness of certainty; I cannot in reason expect it should be
otherwise: the failure of my limbs has been gradual, and it cannot be
expected that an infirmity which at least a year's bad weather gradually
brought on should diminish before a few mild and serene days, but I
think there is some change to the better; I certainly write easier and
my spirits are better. The officers compliment me on this, and I think
justly. The difficulty will be to abstain from working hard, but we will
try. I wrote to Mr. Cadell to-day, and will send my letter ashore to be
put into Gibraltar with the officer who leaves us at that garrison. In
the evening we saw the celebrated fortress, which we had heard of all
our lives, and which there is no possibility of describing well in
words, though the idea I had formed of it from prints, panoramas, and so
forth, proved not very inaccurate. Gibraltar, then, is a peninsula
having a tremendous precipice on the Spanish side--that is, upon the
north, where it is united to the mainland by a low slip of land called
the neutral ground. The fortifications which rise on the rock are
innumerable, and support each other in a manner accounted a model of
modern art; the northern face of the rock itself is hewn into tremendous
subterranean batteries called the hall of Saint George, and so forth,
mounted with guns of a large calibre. But I have heard it would be
difficult to use them, from the effect of the report on the
artillerymen. The west side of the fortress is not so precipitous as
the north, and it is on this it has been usually assailed. It bristles
with guns and batteries, and has at its northern extremity the town of
Gibraltar, which seems from the sea a thriving place, and from thence
declines gradually to Cape Europa, where there is a great number of
remains of old caverns and towers, formerly the habitation or refuge of
the Moors. At a distance, and curving into a bay, lie Algeciras, and the
little Spanish town of Saint Roque, where the Spanish lines were planted
during the siege.[485] From Europa Point the eastern frontier of
Gibraltar runs pretty close to the sea, and arises in a perpendicular
face, and it is called the back of the rock. No thought could be
entertained of attacking it, although every means were used to make the
assault as general as possible. The efforts sustained by such
extraordinary means as the floating batteries were entirely directed
against the defences on the west side, which, if they could have been
continued for a few days with the same fury with which they commenced,
must have worn out the force of the garrison. The assault had continued
for several hours without success on either side, when a private man of
the artillery, his eye on the floating batteries, suddenly called with
ecstasy, "She burns, by G----!";[486] and first that vessel and then
others were visibly discovered to be on fire, and the besiegers' game
was decidedly up.

We stood into the Bay of Gibraltar and approached the harbour firing a
gun and hoisting a signal for a boat: one accordingly came off--a
man-of-war's boat--but refused to have any communication with us on
account of the quarantine, so we can send no letters ashore, and after
some pourparlers, Mr. L----, instead of joining his regiment, must
remain on board. We learned an unpleasant piece of news. There has been
a tumult at Bristol and some rioters shot, it is said fifty or sixty. I
would flatter myself that this is rather good news, since it seems to be
no part of a formed insurrection, but an accidental scuffle in which the
mob have had the worst, and which, like Tranent, Manchester, and
Bonnymoor, have always had the effect of quieting the people and
alarming men of property.[487] The Whigs will find it impossible to
permit men to be plundered by a few blackguards called by them the
people, and education and property probably will recover an ascendency
which they have only lost by faintheartedness.

We backed out of the Bay by means of a current to the eastward, which
always runs thence, admiring in our retreat the lighting up the windows
in the town and the various barracks or country seats visible on the
rock. Far as we are from home, the general lighting up of the windows in
the evening reminds us we are still in merry old England, where in
reverse of its ancient law of the curfew, almost every individual,
however humble his station, takes as of right a part of the evening for
enlarging the scope of his industry or of his little pleasures. He trims
his lamp to finish at leisure some part of his task, which seems in such
circumstances almost voluntary, while his wife prepares the little meal
which is to be its legitimate reward. But this happy privilege of
English freemen has ceased. One happiness it is, they will soon learn
their error.

_November_ 15.--I had so much to say about Gibraltar that I omitted all
mention of the Strait, and more distant shores of Spain and Barbary,
which form the extreme of our present horizon; they are highly
interesting. A chain of distant mountains sweep round Gibraltar, bold
peaked, well defined, and deeply indented; the most distinguishable
points occasionally garnished with an old watch-tower to afford
protection against a corsair. The mountains seemed like those of the
first formation, liker, in other words, to the Highlands than those of
the South of Scotland. The chains of hills in Barbary are of the same
character, but more lofty and much more distant, being, I conceive, a
part of the celebrated ridge of Atlas.

Gibraltar is one of the pillars of Hercules, Ceuta on the Moorish side
is well known to be the other; to the westward of a small fortress
garrisoned by the Spaniards is the Hill of Apes, the corresponding
pillar to Gibraltar. There is an extravagant tradition that there was
once a passage under the sea from the one fortress to the other, and
that an adventurous governor, who puzzled his way to Ceuta and back
again, left his gold watch as a prize to him who had the courage to go
to seek it.

We are soon carried by the joint influence of breeze and current to the
African side of the straits, and coast nearly along a wild shore formed
of mountains, like those of Spain, of varied form and outline. No
churches, no villages, no marks of human hand are seen. The chain of
hills show a mockery of cultivation, but it is only wild heath
intermingled with patches of barren sand. I look in vain for cattle or
flocks of sheep, and Anne as vainly entertains hopes of seeing lions and
tigers on a walk to the sea-shore. The land of this wild country seems
to have hardly a name. The Cape which we are doubling has one,
however--the Cape of the Three Points. That we might not be totally
disappointed we saw one or two men engaged apparently in ploughing,
distinguished by their turbans and the long pikes which they carried.
Dr. Liddell says that on former occasions he has seen flocks and
shepherds, but the war with France has probably laid the country waste.

_November_ 16.--When I waked about seven found that we had the town of
Oran twelve or fourteen miles off astern. It is a large place on the
sea-beach, near the bottom of a bay, built close and packed together as
Moorish [towns], from Fez to Timbuctoo, usually are. A considerable hill
runs behind the town, which seems capable of holding 10,000 inhabitants.
The hill up to its eastern summit is secured by three distinct lines of
fortification, made probably by the Spanish when Oran was in their
possession; latterly it belonged to the State of Algiers; but whether it
has yielded to the French or not we have no means of knowing. A French
schooner of eighteen guns seems to blockade the harbour. We show our
colours, and she displays hers, and then resumes her cruise, looking as
if she resumed her blockade. This would infer that the place is not yet
in French hands. However, we have in any event no business with Oran,
whether African or French. Bristol is a more important subject of
consideration, but I cannot learn there are papers on board. One or two
other towns we saw on this dreary coast, otherwise nothing but a hilly
coast covered with shingle and gum cistus.

_November_ 17.--In the morning we are off Algiers, of which Captain
Pigot's complaisance afforded a very satisfactory sight. It is built on
a sloping hill, running down to the sea, and on the water side is
extremely strong; a very strong mole or causeway enlarges the harbour,
by enabling them to include a little rocky island, and mount immense
batteries, with guns of great number and size. It is a wonder, in the
opinion of all judges, that Lord Exmouth's fleet was not altogether cut
to pieces. The place is of little strength to the land; a high turreted
wall of the old fashion is its best defence. When Charles V. attacked
Algiers, he landed in the bay to the east of the town, and marched
behind it. He afterwards reached what is still called the Emperor's
fort, a building more highly situated than any part of the town, and
commanding the wall which surrounds it. The Moors did not destroy this.
When Bourmont landed with the French, unlike Charles V., that general
disembarked to the westward of Algiers, and at the mouth of a small
river; he then marched into the interior, and, fetching a circuit,
presented himself on the northern side of the town. Here the Moors had
laid a simple stratagem for the destruction of the invading army. The
natives had conceived they would rush at once to the fort of the
Emperor, which they therefore mined, and expected to destroy a number of
the enemy by its explosion. This obvious device of war was easily
avoided, and General Bourmont, in possession of the heights, from which
Algiers is commanded, had no difficulty in making himself master of the
place. The French are said now to hold their conquests with difficulty,
owing to a general commotion among the Moorish chiefs, of whom the Bey
was the nominal sovereign. To make war on these wild tribes would be to
incur the disaster of the Emperor Julian; to neglect their aggressions
is scarcely possible.

Algiers has at first an air of diminutiveness inferior to its fame in
ancient and modern times. It rises up from the shore like a wedge,
composed of a large mass of close-packed white houses, piled as thick on
each other as they can stand; white-terraced roofs, and without windows,
so the number of its inhabitants must be immense, in comparison to the
ground the buildings occupy--not less, perhaps, than 30,000 men. Even
from the distance we view it, the place has a singular Oriental look,
very dear to the imagination. The country around Algiers is [of] the
same hilly description with the ground on which the town is situated--a
bold hilly tract. The shores of the bay are studded with villas, and
exhibit enclosures: some used for agriculture, some for gardens, one for
a mosque, with a cemetery around it. It is said they are extremely
fertile; the first example we have seen of the exuberance of the African
soil. The villas, we are told, belong to the Consular Establishment. We
saw our own, who, if at home, put no remembrance upon us. Like the
Cambridge Professor and the elephant, "We were a paltry beast," and he
would not see us, though we drew within cannon [shot], and our fifty
36-pounders might have attracted some attention. The Moors showed their
old cruelty on a late occasion. The crews of two foreign vessels having
fallen into their hands by shipwreck, they murdered two-thirds of them
in cold blood. There are reports of a large body of French cavalry
having shown itself without the town. It is also reported by Lieutenant
Walker,[488] that the Consul hoisted, _comme de raison_, a British flag
at his country house, so our vanity is safe.

We leave Algiers and run along the same kind of heathy, cliffy, barren
reach of hills, terminating in high lines of serrated ridges, and scarce
showing an atom of cultivation, but where the mouth of a river or a
sheltering bay has encouraged the Moors to some species of
fortification.

_November_ 18.--Still we are gliding along the coast of Africa, with a
steady and unruffled gale; the weather delicious. Talk of an island of
wild goats, by name Golita; this species of deer-park is free to every
one for shooting upon--belongs probably to the Algerines or Tunisians,
whom circumstances do not permit to be very scrupulous in asserting
their right of dominion; but Dr. Liddell has himself been present at a
grand _chasse_ of the goats, so the thing is true.

The wild sinuosities of the land make us each moment look to see a body
of Arabian cavalry wheel at full gallop out of one of these valleys,
scour along the beach, and disappear up some other recess of the hills.
In fact we see a few herds, but a red cow is the most formidable monster
we have seen.

A general day of exercise on board, as well great guns as small arms. It
was very entertaining to see the men take to their quarters with the
unanimity of an individual. The marines shot a target to pieces, the
boarders scoured away to take their position on the yards with cutlass
and pistol. The exhibition continued two hours, and was loud enough to
have alarmed the shores, where the Algerines might, if they had thought
fit, have imputed the firing to an opportune quarrel between the French
and British, and have shouted "Allah Kerim"--God is merciful! This was
the Dey's remark when he heard that Charles X. was dethroned by the
Parisians.

We are near an African Cape called Bugiaroni, where, in the last war,
the Toulon fleet used to trade for cattle.

_November_ 19.--Wind favourable during night, dies away in the morning,
and blows in flurries rather contrary. The steamboat packet, which left
Portsmouth at the same time with us, passes us about seven o'clock, and
will reach a day or two before us. We are now off the coast of Tunis:
not so high and rocky as that of Algiers, and apparently much more
richly cultivated. A space of considerable length along shore, between a
conical hill called Mount Baluty and Cape Bon, which we passed last
night, is occupied by the French as a coral fishery. They drop heavy
shot by lines on the coral rocks and break off fragments which they fish
up with nets. The Algerines, seizing about 200 Neapolitans thus employed
gave rise to the bombardment of their town by Lord Exmouth. All this
coast is picturesquely covered with enclosures and buildings and is now
clothed with squally weather. One hill has a smoky umbrella displayed
over its peak, which is very like a volcano--many islets and rocks
bearing the Italian names of sisters, brothers, dogs, and suchlike
epithets. The view is very striking, with varying rays of light and of
shade mingling and changing as the wind rises and falls. About one
o'clock we pass the situation of ancient Carthage, but saw no ruins,
though such are said to exist. A good deal of talk about two ancient
lakes called----; I knew the name, but little more. We passed in the
evening two rocky islands, or skerries, rising straight out of the
water, called Gli Fratelli or The Brothers.