This morning I wrote two hours, then out with Tom Purdie, and gave
directions about thinning all the plantations above Abbotsford properly
so called. Came in at one o'clock and now set to work. _Debout, debout,
Lyciscas, debout._[310] Finished four leaves.

_August_ 2.--Well; and to-day I finished before dinner five leaves more,
and I would crow a little about it, but here comes Duty like an old
housekeeper to an idle chambermaid. Hear her very words:--

DUTY.--Oh! you crow, do you? Pray, can you deny that your sitting so
quiet at work was owing to its raining heavily all the forenoon, and
indeed till dinner-time, so that nothing would have stirred out that
could help it, save a duck or a goose? I trow, if it had been a fine
day, by noon there would have been aching of the head, throbbing,
shaking, and so forth, to make an apology for going out.

EGOMET IPSE.--And whose head ever throbbed to go out when it rained,
Mrs. Duty?

DUTY.--_Answer not to me with a fool-born jest_, as your poor friend
Erskine used to say to you when you escaped from his good advice under
the fire of some silly pun. You smoke a cigar after dinner, and I never
check you--drink tea, too, which is loss of time; and then, instead of
writing me one other page, or correcting those you have written out, you
rollick into the woods till you have not a dry thread about you; and
here you sit writing down my words in your foolish journal instead of
minding my advice.

EGO.--Why, Mrs. Duty, I would as gladly be friends with [you] as
Crabbe's[311] tradesman fellow with his conscience; but you should have
some consideration with human frailty.

DUTY.--Reckon not on that. But, however, good-night for the present. I
would only recommend to you to think no thoughts in which I am not
mingled--to read no books in which I have no concern--to write three
sheets of botheration all the six days of the week _per diem_, and on
the seventh to send them to the printer. Thus advising, I heartily bid
you farewell.

EGO.--Farewell, madam (exit Duty) and be d--d to ye for an unreasonable
bitch! "The devil must be in this greedy gled!" as the Earl of Angus
said to his hawk; "will she never be satisfied?"[312] I believe in my
soul she is the very hag who haunted the merchant Abudah.[313]

I'll have my great chest upstairs exorcised, but first I'll take a nap
till supper, which must take place within ten minutes.

_August_ 3.--Wrote half a task in the morning. From eleven till
half-past eight in Selkirk taking precognitions about a _row_, and came
home famished and tired. Now, Mrs. Duty, do you think there is no other
Duty of the family but yourself? Or can the Sheriff-depute neglect his
Duty, that the author may mind _his_? The thing cannot be; the people of
Selkirk must have justice as well as the people of England books. So the
two Duties may go pull caps about it. My conscience is clear.

_August_ 4.--Wrote to Miss Edgeworth on her sister's marriage, which
consumed the better part of the morning. I must read for Marengo.
_Item_, I must look at the pruning. _Item_, at the otter hunt; but my
hope is constant to make up a good day's task notwithstanding. Failed in
finding the otter, and was tired and slept, and did but a poor day's
work.

_August_ 6.--Wrote to-day a very good day's work. Walked to Chiefswood,
and saw old Mrs. Tytler,[314] a friend when life was young. Her husband,
Lord Woodhouselee, was a kind, amiable, and accomplished man; and when
we lived at Lasswade Cottage, soon after my marriage, we saw a great
deal of the family, who were very kind to us as newly entered on the
world.[315] Walked home, and worked in the evening; four leaves
finished.

_August_ 7.--My niece Anne leaves us this morning, summoned back from
one scene of distress to another. Her uncle, David Macculloch, is
extremely ill--a paralytic stroke, I fancy. She is a charming girl,
lady-like in thought and action, and very pleasant in society. We are to
dine to-day with our neighbours at Gattonside. Meantime I will avail
myself of my disposition to labour, and work instead of journalising.

Mr. H. Cranstoun[316] looked in a morning call. He is become extremely
deaf. He gave me a letter from the Countess Purgstall, his sister, which
I have not the heart to open, so many reproaches I have deserved for not
writing. It is a sad thing, though, to task eyes as hard wrought as mine
to keep up correspondence. Dined at Gattonside.[317]

_August_ 8.--Wrote my task this morning, and now for walk. Dine to-day
at Chiefswood; have company to-morrow. Why, this is dissipation! But no
matter, Mrs. Duty, if the task is done. "Ay, but," says she, "you ought
to do something extra--provide against a rainy day." Not I, I'll make a
rainy day provide against a fair one, Mrs. Duty. I write twice as much
in bad weather. Seriously, I write fully as much as I ought. I do not
like this dull aching in the chest and the back, and its giving way to
exercise shows that it originates in remaining too long in a sitting
posture. So I'll take the field, while the day is good.

_August_ 9.--I wrote only two leaves to-day, but with as many additions
as might rank for three. I had a long and warm walk. Mrs. Tytler of
Woodhouselee, the Hamiltons, and Colonel Ferguson dined here. How many
early stories did the old lady's presence recall! She might almost be my
mother, yet there we sat, like two people of another generation, talking
of things and people the rest knew nothing of. When a certain period of
life is survived, the difference of years between the survivors, even
when considerable, becomes of much less consequence.

_August_ 10.--Rose early, and wrote hard till two, when I went with Anne
to Minto. The place, being new to my companion, gave her much amusement.
We found the Scotts of Harden, etc., and had a very pleasant party. I
like Lady M. particularly, but missed my facetious and lively friend,
Lady A[nna] M[aria].[318] It is the fashion for women and silly men to
abuse her as a blue-stocking. If to have wit, good sense, and
good-humour, mixed with a strong power of observing, and an equally
strong one of expressing the result, be _blue_, she shall be as blue as
they will. Such cant is the refuge of persons who fear those who they
[think] can turn them into ridicule; it is a common trick to revenge
supposed raillery with good substantial calumny. Slept at Minto.

_August_ 11.--I was up as usual, and wrote about two leaves, meaning to
finish my task at home; but found my Sheriff-substitute[319] here on my
return, which took up the evening. But I shall finish the volume on
Sunday; that is less than a month after beginning it. The same exertion
would bring the book out at Martinmas, but December is a better time.

_August_ 12.--Wrote a little in the morning; then Duty and I have
settled that this is to be a kind of holiday, providing the volume be
finished to-morrow. I went to breakfast at Chiefswood, and after that
affair was happily transacted, I wended me merrily to the Black Cock
Stripe, and there caused Tom Purdie and John Swanston cut out a
quantity of firs. Got home about two o'clock, and set to correct a set
of proofs. James Ballantyne presages well of this work, but is afraid of
inaccuracies--so am I--but things must be as they may. There is a kind
of glamour about me, which sometimes makes me read dates, etc., in the
proof-sheets, not as they actually do stand, but as they ought to stand.
I wonder if a pill of holy trefoil would dispel this fascination.

By the way, John Swanston measured a young shoot that was growing
remarkably, and found that for three days successively it grew half an
inch every day. Fine-Ear[320] used to hear the grass grow--how far off
would he have heard this extravagant rapidity of vegetation? The tree is
a silver fir or spruce in the patch at the Green-tongue park.

_August_ 13.--Yesterday I was tired of labouring in the rough ground.
Well, I must be content to feel my disabilities increase. One sure thing
is, that all wise men will soon contrive to lay aside inclination when
performance grows toilsome. I have hobbled over many a rough heugh in my
day--no wonder if I must sing at last--

    "Thus says the auld man to the aik tree,
    Sair failed, hinny, since I kenn'd thee."

But here are many a mile of smooth walk, just when I grow unable to face
bent and brae, and here is the garden when all fails. To a sailor the
length of his quarter-deck is a good space of exercising ground.

I wrote a good task to-day, then walked to the lake, then came back by
three o'clock, hungering and thirsting to finish the volume. I have
seldom such fits of voluntary industry, so Duty shall have the benefit.

Finished volume iv. this evening--_Deo Gratias_.

_August_ 14.--This is a morning I have not seen many a day, for it
appears to set in for a rainy day. It has not kept its word though. I
was seized by a fit of the "clevers," and finished my task by twelve
o'clock, and hope to add something in the evening. I was guilty,
however, of some waywardness, for I began volume v. of _Boney_ instead
of carrying on the _Canongate_ as I proposed. The reason, however, was
that I might not forget the information I had acquired about the Treaty
of Amiens.

_August_ 15.--The weather seems decidedly broken. Yesterday, indeed,
cleared up, but this day seems to persevere in raining. _Naboclish!_
It's a rarity nowadays. I write on, though a little afflicted with the
oppression on my chest. Sometimes I think it is something dangerous, but
as it always goes away on change of posture, it cannot be speedily so. I
want to finish my task, and then good-night. I will never relax my
labour in these affairs, either for fear of pain or love of life. I will
die a free man, if hard working will do it. Accordingly, to-day I
cleared the ninth leaf, which is the tenth part of a volume, in two
days--four and a half leaves a day. Walter and Jane, with Mrs. Jobson,
are arrived to interrupt me.

_August_ 16.--God be praised for restoring to me my dear children in
good health, which has made me happier than anything that has happened
these several months. Walter and Jane appear cordial and happy in each
other; the greatest blessing Heaven can bestow on them or me who witness
it. If we had Lockhart and Sophia, there would be a meeting of the
beings dearest to me in life. Walked to Huntly Burn, where I found a
certain lady on a visit--so youthy, so beautiful, so strong in
voice--with sense and learning--above all, so fond of good conversation,
that, in compassion to my eyes, ears, and understanding, I bolted in the
middle of a tremendous shower of rain, and rather chose to be wet to the
skin than to be bethumped with words at that rate. There seemed more
than I of the same opinion, for Col Ferguson chose the ducking rather
than the conversation. Young Mr. Surtees came this evening.

_August_ 17.--Wrote half a leaf short of my task, having proofs, etc.,
to correct, and being called early to walk with the ladies. I have
gained three leaves in the two following days, so I cannot blame myself.
_Sat cito si sat bene. Sat boni_ I am sure--I may say--a truly execrable
pun that; hope no one will find it out.

In the evening we had music from the girls, and the voice of the harp
and viol were heard in my halls once more, which have been so long
deprived of mirth. It is with a mixed sensation I hear these sounds. I
look on my children and am happy; and yet every now and then a pang
shoots across my heart. It seems so strange that my poor wife should not
be there. But enough of this. Colonel Ferguson dined.

_August_ 18.--Again I fell a half page behind, being summoned out too
early for my task, but I am still two leaves before on the whole week.
It is natural to see as much of these young people as I can. Walter
talks of the Ionian Islands. It is an awful distance. A long walk in
very warm weather. Music in the evening.

_August_ 19.--This morning wrote none, excepting extracts, etc., being
under the necessity of reading and collating a great deal, which lasted
till one o'clock or thereabouts, when Dr. and Mrs. Brewster and their
young people came to spend a day of happiness at the lake. We were met
there by Captain and Mrs. Hamilton and a full party. Since the days of
Seged, Emperor of Ethiopia,[321] these days of appointed sport and
happiness have seldom answered; but we came off indifferently well. We
did not indeed catch much fish; but we lounged about in a delightful
day, eat and drank--and the children, who are very fine infantry, were
clamorously enjoying themselves. We sounded the loch in two or three
different places--the deepest may be sixty feet. I was accustomed to
think it much more, but your deepest pools, like your deepest
politicians and philosophers, often turn out more shallow than was
expected. The whole party dine with us.

_August_ 20.--Wrote four leaves. The day wet and rainy, though not
uniformly so. No temptation, however, to play truant; so this will make
some amends for a blank day yesterday. I am far in advance of the press,
but it is necessary if I go to Drumlanrig on Wednesday as I intend, and
to Lochore next week, which I also meditate. This will be no great
interruption, however, if I can keep the _Canongate_ moving, for I shall
be more than half a volume in advance with _Napoleon_.

_August_ 21.--Wrought out my task, though much bothered with a cold in
my head and face, how caught I know not. Mrs. Crampton, wife of the
Surgeon-General[322] in Ireland, sends to say she is hereabouts, so we
ask her. Hospitality must not be neglected, and most hospitable are the
Cramptons. All the "calliachs"[323] from Huntly Burn are to be here, and
Anne wishes we may have enough of dinner. Naboclish! it is hoped there
will be a _pièce de résistance_.

_August_ 22.--Mrs. and Misses Crampton departed. I was rather sorry to
give them such brief entertainment, for they were extremely kind. But
going to Eildon Hall to-day, and to Drumlanrig to-morrow, there was
nothing more could be done for them. It is raining now "_successfully_,"
as old Macfarlane of the Arroquhar used to say. What is the odds? We get
a soaking before we cross the Birkendailly--wet against dry, ten to one.

_August_ 23 [_Bittock's Bridge_].--Set off cheerily with Walter,
Charles, and Surtees in the sociable, to make our trip to Drumlanrig. We
breakfasted at Mr. Boyd's, Broadmeadows, and were received with Yarrow
hospitality. From thence climbed the Yarrow, and skirted Saint Mary's
Lake, and ascended the Birkhill path, under the moist and misty
influence of the _genius loci_. Never mind; my companions were merry and
I cheerful. When old people can be with the young without fatiguing them
or themselves, their tempers derive the same benefits which some
fantastic physicians of old supposed accrued to their constitutions from
the breath of the young and healthy. You have not, cannot again have,
their gaiety of pleasure in seeing sights, but still it reflects itself
upon you, and you are cheered and comforted. Our luncheon eaten in the
herd's cottage; but the poor woman saddened me unawares, by asking for
poor Charlotte, whom she had often seen there with me. She put me in
mind that I had come twice over those hills and bogs with a
wheeled-carriage, before the road, now an excellent one, was made. I
knew it was true; but, on my soul, looking where we must have gone, I
could hardly believe I had been such a fool. For riding, pass if you
will; but to put one's neck in such a venture with a wheeled-carriage
was too silly. Here we are, however, at Bittock's Inn for this night.

_Drumlanrig, August_ 24.--This morning lunched at Parkgate under a very
heavy shower, and then pushed on to Drumlanrig, where I was pleased to
see the old Castle, and old servants solicitous and anxious to be civil.
What visions does not this magnificent old house bring back to me! The
exterior is much improved since I first knew it. It was then in the
state of dilapidation to which it had been abandoned by the celebrated
old Q.,[324] and was indeed scarce wind and water tight. Then the whole
wood had been felled, and the outraged castle stood in the midst of
waste and desolation, excepting a few scattered old stumps, not judged
worth the cutting. Now, the whole has been, ten or twelve years since,
completely replanted, and the scattered seniors look as graceful as
fathers surrounded by their children. The face of this immense estate
has been scarcely less wonderfully changed. The scrambling tenants, who
held a precarious tenure of lease under the Duke of Queensberry, at the
risk (as actually took place) of losing their possession at his death,
have given room to skilful and labouring men, working their farms
regularly, and enjoying comfortable houses and their farms at a fair
rent, which is enough to forbid idleness, but not enough to overpower
industry.

_August_ 25.--Here are Lord and Lady Home,[325] Charles Douglas,[326]
Lord and Lady Charlotte Stopford.[327] I grieve to say the last, though
as beautiful as ever, is extremely thin, and looks delicate. The Duke
himself has grown up into a graceful and apparently strong young man,
and received us most kindly. I think he will be well qualified to
sustain his difficult and important task. The heart is excellent, so are
the talents,--good sense and knowledge of the world, picked up at one of
the great English schools (and it is one of their most important
results), will prevent him from being deceived; and with perfect
good-nature, he has a natural sense of his own situation, which will
keep him from associating with unworthy companions. God bless him! His
father and I loved each other well, and his beautiful mother had as much
of the angel as is permitted to walk this earth. I see the balcony from
which they welcomed poor Charlotte and me, long ere the ascent was
surmounted, streaming out their white handkerchiefs from the
battlements. There were _four_ merry people that day--now one sad
individual is all that remains. _Singula praedantur anni_. I had a long
walk to-day through the new plantation, the Duchess's Walk by the Nith,
etc. (formed by Prior's _Kitty young and gay_[328]); fell in with the
ladies, but their donkeys outwalked me--a flock of sheep afterwards
outwalked me, and I begin to think, on my conscience, that a snail put
in training might soon outwalk me. I must lay the old salve to the old
sore, and be thankful for being able to walk at all.

Nothing was written to-day, my writing-desk having been forgot at
Parkgate, but Tom Crighton kindly fetched it up to-day, so something
more or less may be done to-morrow morning--and now to dress.

[_Bittock's Bridge_,] _August_ 26.--We took our departure from the
friendly halls of Drumlanrig this morning after breakfast and
leave-taking. I trust this young nobleman will be

    "A hedge about his friends,
    A hackle to his foes."[329]

I would have him not quite so soft-natured as his grandfather, whose
kindness sometimes mastered his excellent understanding. His father had
a temper which better lumped with my humour. Enough of ill-nature to
keep your good-nature from being abused is no bad ingredient in their
disposition who have favours to bestow.[330]

In coming from Parkgate here I intended to accomplish a purpose which I
have for some years entertained, of visiting Lochwood, the ancient seat
of the Johnstones, of which King James said, when he visited it, that
the man who built it must have been a thief in his heart. It rained
heavily, however, which prevented my making this excursion, and indeed I
rather overwalked myself yesterday, and have occasion for rest.

     "So sit down, Robin, and rest thee."

_Abbotsford, August_ 27.--To-day we journeyed through the hills and
amongst the storms; the weather rather bullying than bad. We viewed the
Grey Mare's Tail, and I still felt confident in crawling along the
ghastly bank by which you approach the fall. I will certainly get some
road of application to Mr. Hope Johnstone, to pray him to make the place
accessible. We got home before half-past five, having travelled forty
miles.

_Blair-Adam, August_ 28.--Set off with Walter and Jane at seven o'clock,
and reached this place in the middle of dinner-time. By some of my not
unusual blunders we had come a day before we were expected. Luckily, in
this ceremonious generation, there are still houses where such blunders
only cause a little raillery, and Blair-Adam is one of them. My
excellent friend is in high health and spirits, to which the presence of
Sir Frederick adds not a little.[331] His lady is here--a beautiful
woman, whose countenance realises all the poetic dreams of Byron. There
is certainly [a] something of full maturity of beauty which seems framed
to be adoring and adored, and it is to be found in the full dark eye,
luxuriant tresses, and rich complexion of Greece, and not among the
pale unripened beauties of the north. What sort of a mind this exquisite
casket may contain is not so easily known. She is anxious to please, and
willing to be pleased, and, with her striking beauty, cannot fail to
succeed.

_August_ 29.--To-day we designed to go to Lochore. But "heigho! the wind
and the rain." Besides Mrs. and Admiral Adam, Mrs. Loch, and Miss Adam,
I find here Mr. Impey, son of that Sir Elijah celebrated in Indian
history. He has himself been in India, but has, with a great deal of
sense and observation, much better address than always falls to the
share of the Eastern adventurer. The art of quiet and entertaining
conversation, which is always easy as well as entertaining, is chiefly
known in England. In Scotland we are pedantic and wrangle, or we run
away with the harrows on some topic we chance to be discursive upon. In
Ireland they have too much vivacity, and are too desirous to make a
show, to preserve the golden mean. They are the Gascons of Britain.
George Ellis was the best converser I ever knew; his patience and good
breeding made me often ashamed of myself going off at score upon some
favourite topic. Richard Sharp is so celebrated for this peculiar gift
as to be generally called Conversation Sharp.[332] The worst of this
talent is that it seems to lack sincerity. You never know what are the
real sentiments of a good converser, or at least it is very difficult to
discover to what extent he entertains them. His politeness is
inconsistent with energy. For forming a good converser, good taste and
extensive information and accomplishment are the principal requisites,
to which must be added an easy and elegant delivery and a well-toned
voice. I think the higher order of genius is not favourable to this
talent.

Mrs. Impey, an intelligent person, likes music, and particularly Scotch
airs, which few people play better than Mrs. Lockhart and Miss Louisa
Adam. Had a letter from Mr. William Upcott, London Institution,
proposing to me to edit an edition of Garrick's Correspondence, which I
declined by letter of this day. Thorough decided downfall of rain.
Nothing for it but patience and proof-sheets.

_August_ 30.--The weather scarce permitted us more licence than
yesterday, yet we went down to Lochore, and Walter and I perambulated
the property, and discussed the necessity of a new road from the
south-west, also that of planting some willows along the ditches in the
low grounds. Returned to Blair-Adam to dinner.

_Abbotsford, August_ 31.--Left Blair at seven in the morning. Transacted
business with Cadell and Ballantyne, but our plans will, I think, be
stopped or impeded by the operations before the Arbiter, Mr. Irving, who
leans more to the side of the opposite [party] than I expected. I have a
letter from Gibson, found on my arrival at Abbotsford, which gives
rather a gloomy account of that matter. It seems strange that I am to be
bound to write for men who have broken every bargain with me.

Arrived at Abbotsford at eight o'clock at night.

FOOTNOTES:

[307] By Middleton, 1697.

[308] The Hector of Germanie, or the Palsgrave Prime Elector. An
Honourable History by William Smith. 4to, 1615.

[309] Two London playhouses.--See Knight's _Biography of Shakespeare_.

[310] Molière's _La Princesse d'Élide_ (Prologue).

[311] See Crabbe's Tale of _The Struggles of Conscience_.--J.G.L.

[312] _Tales of a Grandfather_, Miscell. Prose Works, vol. xxiii. p. 72.

[313] See _Tales of the Genii_. _The Talisman of Oromanes_.

[314] Eldest daughter of William Fraser of Balnain.--See Burgon's _Life
of P.F. Tytler_, 8vo, Lond. 1859. Mrs. Tytler died in London, aged
eighty-four, in 1837.

[315] Alexr. Fraser Tytler, 1747-1813. Besides his acknowledged works,
Lord Woodhouselee published anonymously a translation of Schiller's
_Robbers_ as early as 1792.

[316] Henry Cranstoun, elder brother of Lord Corehouse and Countess
Purgstall. He resided for some years near Abbotsford, at the Pavilion on
the Tweed, where he died in 1843, aged eighty-six. An interesting
account of Countess Purgstall is given by Basil Hall, who was with her
in Styria at her death in 1835. This very early friend of Scott's was
thought by Captain Hall to have been the prototype of Diana
Vernon--"that safest of secret keepers."--See _Schloss Hainfeld_, 8vo,
Lond. 1836.

[317] The property of Gattonside had been purchased in 1824 by George
Bainbridge of Liverpool, a keen angler, author of _The Fly Fisher's
Guide_, 8vo, Liverpool, 1816.

[318] Lady Anna Maria Elliot, see _ante_, p. 133.

[319] W. Scott of Maxpopple.

[320] In the fairy tale of Countess D'Aulnoy--_Fortunio_.

[321] See Johnson's _Rambler_, Nos. 204 and 205.

[322] Afterwards Sir Philip Crampton. "The Surgeon-General struck Sir
Walter as being more like Sir Humphry Davy than any man he had met, not
in person only, but in the liveliness and range of his talk."--_Life_,
vol. viii. p. 23.

[323] Gaelic for "old women."

[324] William Douglas, fourth Duke of Queensberry, succeeded, on the
death of his kinsman, Duke Charles, in 1778. He died in 1810 at the age
of eighty-six, when his titles and estates were divided between the Duke
of Buccleuch, Lord Douglas, the Marquis of Queensberry, and the Earl of
Wemyss.

See Wordsworth's indignant lines beginning:

  "Degenerate Douglas, oh the unworthy Lord";

also _George Selwyn and his Contemporaries_, 4 vols. 8vo, Lond. 1843-4.

[325] Alexander, tenth Earl of Home, and his wife, Lady Elizabeth,
daughter of Henry, third Duke of Buccleuch.

[326] Charles, second son of Archibald Lord Douglas.

[327] James Thomas, Viscount Stopford, afterwards fourth Earl of
Courtown, and his wife, Lady Charlotte, sister of the then Duke of
Buccleuch, at that time still in his minority. Lady Charlotte died
within eighteen months of this date.

[328]

  "Thus Kitty, beautiful and young,
   And wild as colt untamed."

Prior's _Female Phaeton_.

Catherine Hyde, daughter of Henry Earl of Clarendon, and wife of Charles
Duke of Queensberry. She was the friend of Gay, and her beauty, wit, and
oddities have been celebrated in prose and rhyme by the wits and poets
of two generations. Fifty-six years after Prior had sung her "mad
Grace's" praises, Walpole added those two lines to the Female Phaeton--

  "To many a Kitty Love his car, will for a day engage,
   But Prior's Kitty, ever fair, obtained it for an age."

She died at a great age in 1777. For her letter to George II. when
forbid the Court, see Agar Ellis, _Historical Inquiries_, Lond. 1827, p.
40.

[329] Ballad on young Rob Roy's abduction of Jean Key, Cromek's
_Collections_.--J.G.L.

[330] See Letter to C.K. Sharpe, from Drumlanrig, vol. ii. pp. 369-71.

[331] Sir Frederick Adam, son of the Chief Commissioner--a distinguished
soldier, afterwards High Commissioner of the Ionian Islands, and
subsequently Governor of Madras; he died in 1853.

[332] Mr. Richard Sharp published in 1834 a very elegant and interesting
little volume of _Letters and Essays, in Prose and Verse_.--See
_Quarterly Review_, 102.--J.G.L. He had been Member of Parliament from
1806 to 1820, and died on the 30th of March 1835 at the age of
seventy-six.




SEPTEMBER


_September_ 1.--Awaked with a headache, which the reconsideration of
Gibson's news did not improve. We save _Bonaparte_ however, and that is
a great thing. I will not be downcast about it, let the worst come that
can; but I wish I saw that worst. It is the devil to be struggling
forward, like a man in the mire, and making not an inch by your
exertions, and such seems to be my fate. Well! I have much to comfort
me, and I will take comfort. If there be further wrath to come, I shall
be glad that I bear it alone. Poor Charlotte was too much softened by
prosperity to look adverse circumstances courageously in the face. Anne
is young, and has Sophia and Jane to trust to for assistance.

_September_ 2.--Wrote this morning, but only two pages or thereabouts.
At twelve o'clock set out with Anne and Walter to visit at Makerstoun,
but the road between Makerstoun and Merton being very bad, we drove, I
dare say, thirty miles in going and coming, by a circuitous route, and
only got home at half-past seven at night. Saw Lady Brisbane Makdougall,
but not Sir Thomas.[333] Thought of old Sir Henry and his older father
Sir George. Received a box of Australian seeds, forwarded by Andrew
Murray, now head-gardener to the Governor, whom I detected a clever boy,
among my labourers in 1812, and did a little for him. It is pleasant to
see men thrive and be grateful at the same time, so good luck to "Andrew
Mora," as we called him.

_September_ 3.--Made up my necessary task for yesterday and to-day also,
but not more, writing very heavily. Cousin Archie Swinton came to
dinner. We had a dish of cousinred of course--and _of auld lang
syne_.[334]

_September_ 4.--Archie Swinton left us this morning early. I wrote from
seven to half-past two; but, partly that I had five proof-sheets to
correct, partly that like old John Fraser[335] "I was not very cleever
to-day." I made out but a page and a half.

_September_ 5.--Wrote task and half a page more. Terry arrived and
brought with him a Mr. Bruce, from Persia, with an introduction,
forsooth, from Mr. Blackwood. I will move a _quo warranto_ against this
species of introduction; and the good gentleman is to be here, he
informs me, for two days. He is a dark, foreign-looking man, of small
stature, and rather blunt manners, which may be easily accounted for by
his having been in the East for thirty years. He has a considerable
share of information, and made good play after dinner.

_September_ 6.--Walter being to return to Ireland for three weeks set
off to-day, and has taken Surtees and Charles with him. I fear this is
but a wild plan, but the prospect seemed to make them so happy that I
could not find in my heart to say "No" sufficiently peremptorily. So
away they all went this morning to be as happy as they can. Youth is a
fine carver and gilder. Went down to Huntly Burn, and dawdled about
while waiting for the carriage to bring me back. Mr. Bruce and Colonel
Ferguson pottered away about Persia and India, and I fell asleep by the
fireside. Here is a fine spate of work--a day diddled away, and nothing
to show for it! I must write letters now, there is nothing else for it.
But--yaw--yaw--I must take a nap first. I had a letter from Jem
Ballantyne, plague on him! full of remonstrance, deep and solemn, upon
the carelessness of _Bonaparte_. The rogue is right too. But as to
correcting my style to the

    "Jemmy jemmy linkum feedle"

tune of what is called fine writing, I'll be d----d if I do. Drew £12 in
favour of Charles for his Irish jaunt; same time exhorted him to make
himself as expensive to Walter, in the way of eating and drinking, as he
could. Mr. and Mrs. Impey arrived to dinner.

_September_ 7.--Mr. Bruce, the bastinadoed, left us this morning
promising wine from Shiraz and arms from India. From our joint
observation he must be a half-caste, probably half an Arab. He told us
of his having been taken by pirates in the Arabian Gulf, and having
received two thousand bastinadoes on the soles of his feet, after which
he was buried in a heap of dung by way of cure. Though the matter was
certainly serious enough to the sufferer, yet it excited our suppressed,
or scarce suppressed, mirth. Alas! let never traveller tell any distress
which borders on the ludicrous if he desires to excite the sympathy of
the audience.

Another thing he mentioned was the mode of seasoning timber for
shipbuilding in the Arabian Gulf. They bury it in the sand within
water-mark, and leave it exposed to the flux and reflux of the tide for
six months at least, but often for twelve or eighteen. The tendency to
vegetation which produces the dry-rot is thus prevented effectually, and
the ships built of this wood last for twenty years.

We drove to Ashestiel in the morning, after I had written a good task,
or nearly so (nay, I lie, it wanted half a page), and passed a pleasant
day. Terry read _Bobadil_ in the evening, which he has, I think,
improved.

_September_ 8.--I have rubbed up, by collation with Mr. Impey, Sir
Frederick Adam's idea of the Greeks. He deeply regrets the present war
as premature, undertaken before knowledge and rational education had
extended themselves sufficiently. The neighbourhood of the Ionian
Islands was fast producing civilisation; and as knowledge is power, it
is clear that the example of Europeans, and the opportunities of
education thereby afforded, must soon have given them an immense
superiority over the Turk. This premature war has thrown all back into a
state of barbarism. It was precipitated by the agents of Russia. Sir
Frederick spoke most highly of Byron, the soundness of his views, the
respect in which he was held--his just ideas of the Grecian cause and
character, and the practical and rational wishes which he formed for
them. Singular that a man whose conduct in his own personal affairs had
been anything but practical should be thus able to stand by the helm of
a sinking state! Sir Frederick thinks he might have done much for them
if he had lived. The rantipole friends of liberty, who go about freeing
nations with the same success which Don Quixote had in redressing
wrongs, have, of course, blundered everything which they touched. The
Impeys left us to-day, and Captain Hugh Scott and his lady arrived. Task
is bang-up.

_September_ 9.--I begin to fear _Nap_. will swell to seven volumes. I
have a long letter from James B. threatening me with eight; but that is
impossible. The event of his becoming Emperor is the central point of
his history. Now I have just attained it, and it is the centre of the
third volume. Two volumes and a half may be necessary to complete the
whole. Walked with Hugh Scott up the Rhymer's Glen, and round by the
lake. Mr. Bainbridge of Gattonside House dined, also Colonel Ferguson.
Was bang up to my task again this day.

_September_ 10.--Corrected proof-sheets in the morning, then immured
myself to write, the more willingly that the day seemed showery; but I
found myself obliged to read and study the map so much that I did not
get over half a sheet written. Walked with Hugh Scott through Haxell
Cleuch. Great pleasure to show the young wood to any who understands
them well.

_September_ 11.--Jane and her mother go into town this morning, and Anne
with them, to look out a lodging for us during the time we must pass in
town. It seems strange to have this to do, having had always my father's
house or my own to go to. But--_Sic transit gloria mundi_.

Well, it is half-past twelve o'clock, and at length having regulated all
disappointments as to post-horses, and sent three or four servants three
or four miles to remedy blunders, which a little forethought might have
prevented, my family and guests are separated--

    "Like youthful steers let loose, east, north, and south."[336]

Miss Miln goes to Stirling; the Scotts to Lessudden; Anne and Jane to
Edinburgh; and I am left alone. I must needs go up and see some
operations about the spring which supplies us with water, though I
calculate my presence is not very necessary. So now--to work--to work.

But I reckoned without my host, or, I should rather say, without my
_guest_. Just as I had drawn in my chair, fitted a new "Bramah" on the
stick, and was preparing to feague it away, I had a call from the son of
an old friend, Mr. Waldie of Henderland. As he left me, enter young
Whytbank and Mr. Auriol Hay[337] of the Lyon Office, and we had a long
armorial chat together, which lasted for some time--then the library was
to be looked at, etc. So, when they went away, I had little better to do
than to walk up to the spring which they are digging, and to go to my
solitary dinner on my return.

_September_ 12.--Notwithstanding what is above said, I made out my task
yesterday, or nearly so, by working after dinner. After all, these
interruptions are not such bad things; they make a man keen of the work
which he is withheld from, and differ in that point much from the
indulgence of an indisposition to labour in your own mind, which
increases by indulgence. _Les fâcheux_ seldom interrupt your purpose
absolutely and entirely--you stick to it for contradiction's sake.

Well, I visited the spring in the morning, and completed my task
afterwards. As I slept for a few minutes in my chair, to which I am more
addicted than I could wish, I heard, as I thought, my poor wife call me
by the familiar name of fondness which she gave me. My recollections on
waking were melancholy enough. These be

    "The airy tongues that syllable men's names."[338]

All, I believe, have some natural desire to consider these unusual
impressions as bodements of good or evil to come. But alas! this is a
prejudice of our own conceit. They are the empty echoes of what is past,
not the foreboding voice of what is to come.

I dined at the Club to-day at Selkirk, and acted as croupier. There were
eighteen dined; young men chiefly, and of course young talk. But so it
has been, will be, and must be.

_September_ 13.--Wrote my task in the morning, and thereafter had a
letter from that sage Privy Councillor and booby of a Baronet,----. This
unutterable idiot proposes to me that I shall propose to the Dowager
Duchess of ----, and offers his own right honourable intervention to
bring so beautiful a business to bear. I am struck dumb with the
assurance of his folly--absolutely mute and speechless--and how to
prevent him making me further a fool is not easy, for the wretch has
left me no time to assure him of the absurdity of what he proposes; and
if he should ever hint at such a piece of d----d impertinence, what must
the lady think of my conceit or of my feelings! I will write to his
present quarters, however, that he may, if possible, have warning not to
continue this absurdity.[339]

Dined at Major Scott, my cousin's, where was old Lord Buchan. He, too,
is a prince of Bores, but age has tamed him a little, and like the giant
Pope in the _Pilgrim's Progress_, he can only sit and grin at Pilgrims
as they go past, and is not able to cast a fank[340] over them as
formerly. A few quiet puns seem his most formidable infliction nowadays.

_September_ 14.--I should not have forgotten, among the memorabilia of
yesterday, that Mr. Nasmyth, the dentist, and his family called, and I
showed them the lions, for truly he that has rid a man of the toothache
is well entitled to command a part of his time. _Item_, two young
Frenchmen made their way to our sublime presence in guerdon of a
laudatory copy of French verses sent up the evening before, by way of
"Open Sesame," I suppose. I have not read them, nor shall I. No man that
ever wrote a line despised the _pap_ of praise so heartily as I do.
There is nothing I scorn more, except those who think the ordinary sort
of praise or censure is matter of the least consequence. People have
almost always some private view of distinguishing themselves, or of
gratifying their curiosity--some point, in short, to carry, with which
you have no relation, when they take the trouble to praise you. In
general, it is their purpose to get the person praised to puff away in
return. To me their rank praises no more make amends for their bad
poetry than tainted butter would pass off stale fish.

_September_ 15.--Many proofs to correct and dates to compare. What
signify dates in a true story? I was fidgety after breakfast, owing to
perusing some advices from J. Gibson, poor fellow. I will not be
discouraged, come of things what will. However, I could not write
continuously, but went out by starts, and amused myself by cutting trees
in the avenue. Thus I dawdled till Anne and Jane came home with merry
faces, and raised my spirits of course. After tea I e'en took heart of
grace and finished my task, as I now do this day's journal.

_September_ 16.--Worked hard to-day, and in morning and evening made out
five pages and a half, as much perhaps as one should attempt, yet I was
not overworked. On the contrary, went out with Tom about one o'clock and
cut trees, etc., to clear the avenue; and favour the growth of such
trees as are designed for standards. I received visits too--the Laird of
Bemerside,[341] who had been for nine years in Italy with his
family--also the Laird of Kippielaw. Anne and Jane drove up and called
at the Haining.

I expected James Ballantyne to dinner as he proposed, but the worthy
typographer appeared not. He is sometimes inaccurate in keeping such
appointments, which is not according to the "Academy of compliments."
But in the letter which announced his intended visit, he talked of
having received himself a visit from the Cholera Morbus. I shall be very
sorry if so unwelcome a guest be the cause of the breach of his
appointment.

_September_ 17.--Rather surprised with a letter from Lord Melville,
informing me that he and Mr. Peel had put me into the Commission for
inquiring into the condition of the Colleges in Scotland. I know little
on the subject, but I dare say as much as some of the official persons
who are inserted of course. The want of efficient men is the reason
alleged. I must of course do my best, though I have little hope of being
useful, and the time it will occupy is half ruinous to me, to whom time
is everything. Besides, I suppose the honour is partly meant as an act
of grace for _Malachi_. I shall never repent of that escapade, although
it offended persons for the time whose good opinion I value. J.B.
continues ill at Teviot Grove, as they call it. I am a little anxious
about him.

I finished my task and an extra page--hope to do another before supper.
Accomplished the said diligent purpose.

_September_ 18.--Rainy and gloomy--that small sifting rain driving on an
eastern gale which intermits not. Wrote letters to Lord Melville, etc,
and agreed to act under the Commission. Settled to be at Melville
Castle, Saturday 24th. I fear this will interfere consumedly with
business. I corrected proof-sheets, and wrote a good deal, but intend to
spend the rest of the day in reading and making notes. No bricks to be
made without straw.

[_Jedburgh_,] _September_ 19.--Circuit. Went to poor Mr. Shortreed's,
and regretted bitterly the distress of the family, though they
endeavoured to bear it bravely, and to make my reception as comfortable
and even cheerful as possible. My old friend R.S. gave me a ring found
in a grave at the Abbey, to be kept in memory of his son. I will
certainly preserve it with especial care.[342]

Many trifles at circuit, chiefly owing to the cheap whisky, as they were
almost all riots. One case of assault on a deaf and dumb woman. She was
herself the chief evidence; but being totally without education, and
having, from her situation, very imperfect notions of a Deity, and a
future state, no oath could be administered. Mr. Kinniburgh, teacher of
the deaf and dumb, was sworn interpreter, together with another person,
a neighbour, who knew the accidental or conventional signs which the
poor thing had invented for herself, as Mr. K. was supposed to
understand the more general or natural signs common to people in such a
situation. He went through the task with much address, and it was
wonderful to see them make themselves intelligible to each other by mere
pantomime. Still I did [not] consider such evidence as much to be
trusted to in a criminal case. Several previous interviews had been
necessary between the interpreter and the witness, and this is very much
like getting up a story. Some of the signs, brief in themselves, of
which Mr. K. gave long interpretations, put me in mind of Lord Burleigh
in the _Critic_: "Did he mean all this by the shake of the head?" "Yes,
if he shook his head as I taught him."[343] The man was found not
guilty. Mr. K. told us of a pupil of his whom he restored, as it may be
said, to humanity, and who told him that his ideas of another world were
that some great person in the skies lighted up the sun in the morning as
he saw his mother light her fire, and the stars in the evening as she
kindled a lamp. He said the witness had ideas of truth and falsehood,
which was, I believe, true; and that she had an idea of punishment in a
future state, which I doubt. He confessed she could not give any guess
at its duration, whether temporary or eternal. I should like to know if
Mr. K. is in that respect much wiser than his pupils. Dined, of course,
with Lord Mackenzie, the Judge.

_September_ 20.--Waked after a restless night, in which I dreamed of
poor Tom Shortreed. Breakfasted with the Rev. Dr. Somerville.[344] This
venerable gentleman is one of the oldest of the literary brotherhood--I
suppose about eighty-seven, and except a little deafness quite entire.
Living all his life in good society as a gentleman born--and having,
besides, professional calls to make among the poor--he must know, of
course, much that is curious concerning the momentous changes which have
passed under his eyes. He talks of them accordingly, and has written
something on the subject, but has scarce the force necessary to seize on
the most striking points, "_palabras,_ neighbour Verges,"[345]--gifts
which God gives. The bowl that rolls easiest along the green goes
furthest, and has least clay sticking to it. I have often noticed that a
kindly, placid good-humour is the companion of longevity, and, I
suspect, frequently the leading cause of it. Quick, keen, sharp
observation, with the power of contrast and illustration, disturbs this
easy current of thought. My good friend, the venerable Doctor, will not,
I think, die of that disease.

Called at Nesbit Mill on my cousin Charles. His wife received me better
than I deserved, for I have been a sad neglectful visitor. She has a
very pleasant countenance.

Some of the Circuit lawyers dined here, namely R. Dundas, Borthwick, the
facetious Peter Robertson,[346] Mr. R. Adam Dundas, and with them Henry
Scott of Harden.

_September_ 21.--Our party breakfasted late, and I was heavy-headed, and
did not rise till eight. Had drank a little more wine than usual, but as
our friend Othello says, "that's not much."[347] However, we dawdled
about till near noon ere all my guests left me. Then I walked a little
and cut some wood. Read afterwards. I can't get on without it. How did
I get on before?--that's a secret. Mr. Thomas Tod[348] and his wife came
to dine. We talked of old stories and got over a pleasant evening.

_September_ 22.--Still no writing. We have materials to collect. D---n
you, Mother Duty, hold your tongue! I tell you, you know nothing of the
matter. Besides, I corrected five sheets. I wish you had to do with some
other people, just to teach you the difference. I grant that the day
being exquisite I went and thinned out the wood from the north front of
the house. Read and noted a great deal.

_September_ 23.--Wrought in the morning, but only at reading and proofs.
That cursed battle of Jena is like to cost me more time than it did
Bonaparte to gain it. I met Colonel Ferguson about one, to see his dogs
run. It is a sport I have loved well, but now, I know not why, I find it
little interesting. To be sure I used to gallop, and that I cannot now
do. We had good sport, however, and killed five hares. I felt excited
during the chase, but the feeling was but momentary. My mind was
immediately turned to other remembrances, and to pondering upon the
change which had taken place in my own feelings. The day was positively
heavenly, and the wild hillside, with our little coursing party, was
beautiful to look at. Yet I felt like a man come from the dead, looking
with indifference on that which interested him while living. So it must
be

    "When once life's day is near the gloaming."[349]

We dined at Huntly Burn. Kind and comfortable as usual.

_September_ 24.--I made a rally to-day and wrote four pages, or nearly.
Never stirred abroad the whole day, but was made happy after dinner by
the return of Charles and Surtees full of their Irish jaunt, and happy
as young men are with the change of scene. To-morrow I must go to
Melville Castle. I wonder what I can do or say about these
Universities. One thing occurs--the distribution of bursaries only _ex
meritis_. That is, I would have the presentations continue in the
present patrons, but exact that those presented should be qualified by
success in their literary attainments and distinction acquired at school
to hold these scholarships. This seems to be following out the idea of
the founders, who, doubtless, intended the furthering of good
literature. To give education to dull mediocrity is a flinging of the
children's bread to dogs--it is sharpening a hatchet on a razor-strop,
which renders the strop useless, and does no good to the hatchet. Well,
something we will do.

_September_ 25.--Morning spent in making up proofs and copy. Set out for
Melville Castle with Jane, who goes on to her mother at Edinburgh.

Found Lord and Lady M. in great distress. Their son Robert is taken ill
at a Russian town about 350 miles from Moscow--dangerously ill. The
distance increases the extreme distress of the parents, who, however,
bore it like themselves. I was glad to spend a day upon the old terms
with such old friends, and believe my being with them, even in this
moment of painful suspense, as it did not diminish the kindness of my
reception, certainly rather seemed to divert them from the cruel
subject.

Dr. Nicoll, Principal of St. Andrews, dined--a very gentlemanlike
sensible man. We spoke of the visitation, of granting degrees, of public
examinations, of abolishing the election of professors by the Senatus
Academicus (a most pregnant source of jobs), and much beside--but all
desultory--and Lord M. had either nothing particular to say to me, or
was too much engrossed with his family distress to enter upon it. He
proposes to be here in the end of October.

_September_ 26.--Returned to Abbotsford after breakfast. Here is a cool
thing of my friend J.W. C[roker]. The Duke of Clarence, dining at the
Pavilion with the King, happened by choice or circumstance to sit lower
than usual at the table, and being at that time on bad terms with the
Board of Admiralty, took an opportunity to say, that were he king he
would do all that away, and assume the office of Lord High Admiral.
"Your R.H. may act with great prudence," said C[roker]. "The last
monarch who did so was James II." Presently after H.M. asked what they
were talking of. "It's only his R.H. of C," answered C[roker], "who is
so condescending as to tell us what he will do when he is king."

A long letter from R.P. Gillies. I wonder how even he could ask me to
announce myself as the author of _Annotations on German Novels_ which he
is to write.

_September_ 27.--A day of honest labour--but having much to read, proofs
to send off, etc., I was only able to execute my task by three o'clock
P.M. Then I went to direct the cutting of wood along the road in front
of the house. Dined at Chiefswood with Captain and Mrs. Hamilton, Lady
Lucy Whitmore, their guest, and neighbours from Gattonside and Huntly
Burn.

_September_ 28.--Another hard brush, and finished four pages by twelve
o'clock, then drove out to Cowdenknowes, for a morning visit. The house
is ancient and curious, though modernised by vile improvements of a
modern roof and windows. The inhabited part has over the principal door
the letters S.I.H.V.I.H. The first three indicate probably Sir John
Hume, but what are we to make of the rest? I will look at them more
heedfully one day. There is a large room said to have been built for the
reception of Queen Mary; if so, it has been much modernised. The date on
the door is 1576, which would [not] bear out the tradition. The last two
letters probably signify Lady Hume's name, but what are we to make of
the _V_? Dr. Hume thinks it means _Uxor_, but why should that word be in
Latin and the rest in Scotch?

Returned to dinner, corrected proofs, and hope still to finish another
leaf, being in light working humour. Finished the same accordingly.

[_Abbotsford_,] _September_ 29.--- A sort of zeal of working has seized
me, which I must avail myself of. No dejection of mind, and no tremor of
nerves, for which God be humbly thanked. My spirits are neither low nor
high--grave, I think, and quiet--a complete twilight of the mind.

Good news of John Lockhart from Lady Montagu, who most kindly wrote on
that interesting topic.

I wrote five pages, nearly a double task, yet wandered for three hours,
axe in hand, superintending the thinning of the home planting. That does
good too. I feel it give steadiness to my mind. Women, it is said, go
mad much seldomer than men. I fancy, if this be true, it is in some
degree owing to the little manual works in which they are constantly
employed, which regulate in some degree the current of ideas, as the
pendulum regulates the motion of the timepiece. I do not know if this is
sense or nonsense, but I am sensible that if I were in solitary
confinement, without either the power of taking exercise or employing
myself in study, six months would make me a madman or an idiot.

_September_ 30.--Wrote four pages. Honest James Ballantyne came about
five. I had been cutting wood for two hours. He brought his child, a
remarkably fine boy, well-bred, quiet, and amiable. James and I had a
good comfortable chat, the boys being at Gattonside House. I am glad to
see him bear up against misfortune like a man. "Bread we shall eat, or
white or brown," that's the moral of it, Master Muggins.

FOOTNOTES:

[333] Sir Thomas Brisbane, who had formerly commanded a brigade in the
Peninsula. In 1832 he succeeded Sir Walter Scott as President of the
Royal Society of Edinburgh. Sir Thomas had married in 1819 a daughter of
Sir Henry Hay Makdougall of Makerstoun, Bart. Sir Thomas died at
Brisbane House, Ayrshire, in January 1860, in the eighty-seventh year of
his age.

[334] For an account of this family see _The Swintons of that Ilk and
their Cadets_, 4to, 1883, a privately printed volume by A.C. Swinton of
Kimmerghame. In a letter to his friend Swinton in 1814, Scott says that
he had been reading the family pedigree "to my exceeding refreshment."

[335] One of the Abbotsford labourers.

[336] _2 Henry IV_. Act IV. Sc. 2.

[337] Mr. E.W. Auriol Drummond Hay, heir-presumptive at one time of Lord
Kinnoul, was then residing in Edinburgh, owing to his official duties in
the Lyon Office; he took a great interest in archaeological matters, and
was for two years Secretary to the Society of Antiquaries before his
departure as Consul General to the Barbary States. He died at Tangier on
the 1st March 1845.

[338] Milton's _Comus_, v. 208.--J.G.L.

[339] Lady Scott had not been quite four months dead, and the entry of
the preceding day shows how extremely ill-timed was this communication
from a gentleman with whom Sir Walter had never had any intimacy. This
was not the only proposition of the kind that reached him during his
widowhood.--J.G.L.

[340] A coil of rope.

[341] See _Life_, vol. x. 95, and _The Haigs of Bemersyde_, 8vo, Edin.
1881, edited by J. Russell.

[342] Mr. Thomas Shortreed, a young gentleman of elegant taste and
attainments, devotedly attached to Sir Walter, and much beloved in
return, had recently died.--J.G.L.

[343] See Act III. Sc. 1.

[344] The Rev. Dr. Thomas Somerville, minister of Jedburgh, author of
the _History of Great Britain during the reign of Queen Anne_, and other
works, died 14th May 1830, in the ninetieth year of his age, and
sixty-fourth of his ministry.--J.G.L. Autobiographical Memorials of his
_Life and Times_, 1741-1814, 8vo, Edinburgh, were published in 1861.

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

[346] Afterwards Judge in the Court of Session from 1843, author of
_Gleams of Thought reflected from Milton_, etc. It was of this witty and
humorous judge Mr. Lockhart wrote the sportive lines:--

  "Here lies that peerless paper peer Lord Peter,
   Who broke the laws of God and man and metre."

Lord Robertson died in 1855.

[347] Act III. Sc. 3.

[348] One of Scott's old High School mates.--_Life_, vol. i. p. 163.

[349] Burns's _Epistle to J. Smith_.




OCTOBER


_October_ 1.--Wrote my task, then walked from one till half-past four.
Dogs took a hare. They always catch one on Sunday--a Puritan would say
the devil was in them. I think I shall get more done this evening. I
would fain conclude the volume at the Treaty of Tilsit, which will make
it a pretty long one, by the by. J.B. expressed himself much pleased
with _Nap_., which gives me much courage. He is gloomy enough when
things are not well. And then I will try something at my _Canongate_.
They talk about the pitcher going to the well; but if it goes not to the
well, how shall we get water? It will bring home none when it stands on
the shelf, I trow. In literature, as in love, courage is half the
battle.

    "The public born to be controlled
    Stoops to the forward and the bold."

_October_ 2.--Wrote my task. Went out at one and wrought in the wood
till four. I was made happy by a letter from my nephew, little Walter,
as we used to call him, from his age and size, compared to those of his
cousin. He has been kindly received at Bombay by the Governor
Mountstuart Elphinstone, and by Sir Thomas Bradford. He is taking his
ground, I think, prudently, and is likely to get on. Already first
Lieutenant of Engineers--that is well to begin with.

Colonel Ferguson, Miss Margaret, and some ladies, friends of theirs,
dine, also Mr. and Mrs. Laidlaw, and James Laidlaw, and young Mr. N.
Milne.

_October_ 3.--I wrote my task as usual, but, strange to tell, there is a
want of paper. I expect some to-day. In the meantime, to avoid all
quarrel with Dame Duty, I cut up some other leaves into the usual
statutory size. They say of a fowl that if you draw a chalk line on a
table, and lay chick-a-diddle down with his bill upon it, the poor thing
will imagine himself opposed by an insurmountable barrier, which he will
not attempt to cross. Suchlike are one-half of the obstacles which serve
to interrupt our best resolves, and such is my pretended want of paper.
It is like Sterne's want of _sous_ when he went to relieve the _Pauvre
Honteux_.

_October_ 4.--I ought to record with gratitude to God Almighty the
continued health of body and mind, which He hath vouchsafed to grant me.
I have had of late no accesses either of bile or of nervous affection,
and by mixing exercise with literary labour, I have escaped the _tremor
cordis_ which on other occasions has annoyed me cruelly. I went to the
inspection of the Selkirkshire Yeomanry, by Colonel Thornhill, 7th
Hussars. The Colonel is a remarkably fine-looking man, and has a good
address. His brow bears token of the fatigues of war. He is a great
falconer, and has promised to fly his hawks on Friday for my amusement,
and to spend the day at Abbotsford. The young Duke of B. was on the
field looking at the corps, most of whom are his tenants. They did very
well, and are fine, smart young men, and well mounted. Too few of them
though, which is a pity. The exercise is a work which in my time I have
loved well.

Finished my task at night.

_October_ 5.--I was thinking this morning that my time glided away in a
singularly monotonous manner, like one of those dark grey days which
neither promise sunshine nor threaten rain; too melancholy for
enjoyment, too tranquil for repining. But this day has brought a change
which somewhat shakes my philosophy. I find by a letter from J. Gibson
that I _may_ go to London without danger, and if I may, I in a manner
_must_, to examine the papers in the Secretary of State's office about
_Bon_. when at Saint Helena. The opportunity having been offered must be
accepted, and yet I had much rather stay at home. Even the prospect of
seeing Sophia and Lockhart must be mingled with pain, yet this is
foolish too. Lady Hamilton[350] writes me that Pozzo di Borgo,[351] the
Russian Minister at Paris, is willing to communicate to me some
particulars of Bonaparte's early life. Query--might I not go on there?
In for a penny, in for a pound. I intend to take Anne with me, and the
pleasure will be great to her, who deserves much at my hand.

_October_ 6.--Charles and his friend Surtees left us this morning.

Went to see Colonel Thornhill's hawks fly. Some part of the amusement is
very beautiful, particularly the first flight of the hawks, when they
sweep so beautifully round the company, jingling their bells from time
to time, and throwing themselves into the most elegant positions as they
gaze about for their prey. But I do not wonder that the impatience of
modern times has renounced this expensive and precarious mode of
sporting. The hawks are liable to various misfortunes, and are besides
addicted to fly away; one of ours was fairly lost for the day, and one
or two went off without permission, but returned. We killed a crow and
frightened a snipe. There are, however, ladies and gentlemen enough to
make a gallant show on the top of Mintlaw Kipps. The falconer made a
fine figure--a handsome and active young fellow with the falcon on his
wrist. The Colonel was most courteous, and named a hawk after me, which
was a compliment. The hawks are not named till they have merited that
distinction. I walked about six miles and was not fatigued.

There dined with us Colonel Thornhill, Clifton, young Whytbank, Spencer
Stanhope, and his brother, with Miss Tod and my old friend Locker,[352]
Secretary to Greenwich Hospital. We did not break up the party till one
in the morning, and were very well amused.

_October_ 7.--A weary day of rain. Locker and I chatted from time to
time, and I wrought not at _Boney_, but upon the prose works, of which I
will have a volume ready to send in on Monday. I got a letter from John
Gibson, with an offer by Longman for _Napoleon_ of ten thousand five
hundred guineas,[353] which I have advised them to accept. Also I hear
there is some doubt of my getting to London, from the indecision of
these foolish Londoners.

I don't care whether I go or no! And yet it is unpleasant to see how
one's motions depend on scoundrels like these. Besides, I would like to
be there, were it but to see how the cat jumps. One knows nothing of the
world, if you are absent from it so long as I have been.

_October_ 8.--Locker left me this morning. He is of opinion the ministry
must soon assume another form, but that the Whigs will not come in. Lord
Liverpool holds much by Lord Melville--well in point of judgment--and by
the Duke of Wellington--still better, but then the Duke is a soldier--a
bad education for a statesman in a free country. The Chancellor is also
consulted by the Premier on all law affairs. Canning and Huskisson are
at the head of the other party, who may be said to have taken the
Cabinet by storm, through sheer dint of talent. I should like to see
how these ingredients are working; but by the grace of God, I will take
care of putting my finger into the cleft stick.

Locker has promised to get my young cousin Walter Scott on some
quarter-deck or other.

Received from Mr. Cadell the second instalment advance of cash on
_Canongate_. It is in English bills and money, in case of my going to
town.

_October_ 9.--A gracious letter from Messrs. Abud and Son, bill-brokers,
etc.; assure Mr. Gibson that they will institute no legal proceedings
against me for four or five weeks. And so I am permitted to spend my
money and my leisure to improve the means of paying them their debts,
for that is the only use of my present journey. They are Jews: I suppose
the devil baits for Jews with a pork griskin. Were I not to exert
myself, I wonder where their money is to come from.

A letter from Gillies menacing the world with a foreign miscellany. The
plan is a good one, but "he canna haud it," as John Moodie[354] says. He
will think all is done when he has got a set of names, and he will find
the difficulty consists not in that, but in getting articles. I wrote on
the prose works.

Lord and Lady Minto dined and spent the night at Abbotsford.

_October_ 10.--Well, I must prepare for going to London, and perhaps to
Paris. The morning frittered away. I slept till eight o'clock, then our
guests till twelve; then walked out to direct some alterations on the
quarry, which I think may at little expense be rendered a pretty recess.
Wordsworth swears by an old quarry, and is in some degree a supreme
authority on such points. Rain came on; returned completely wet. I had
next the displeasure to find that I had lost the conclusion of vol. v.
of Napoleon, seven or eight pages at least, which I shall have to write
over again, unless I can find it. Well, as Othello says, "that's not
much." My cousin James Scott came to dinner.

I have great unwillingness to set out on this journey; I almost think it
ominous; but

    "They that look to freits, my master dear,
    Their freits will follow them."[355]

I will stick to my purpose. Answered a letter from Gillies about
establishing a foreign journal; a good plan, but I fear in sorry hands.
Of those he names as his assistants they who can be useful will do
little, and the labours of those who are willing to work will rather
hold the publication down. I fear it will not do.

I am downhearted about leaving all my things, after I was quietly
settled; it is a kind of disrooting that recalls a thousand painful
ideas of former happier journeys. And to be at the mercy of these
fellows! God help--but rather God bless--man must help himself.

_October_ 11.--We are ingenious self-tormentors. This journey annoys me
more than anything of the kind in my life. My wife's figure seems to
stand before me, and her voice is in my ears--"Scott, do not go." It
half frightens me. Strong throbbing at my heart, and a disposition to be
very sick. It is just the effect of so many feelings which had been
lulled asleep by the uniformity of my life, but which awaken on any new
subject of agitation. Poor, poor Charlotte!! I cannot daub it further. I
get incapable of arranging my papers too. I will go out for
half-an-hour. God relieve me!

I quelled this _hysterica passio_ by pushing a walk towards Kaeside and
back again, but when I returned I still felt uncomfortable, and all the
papers I wanted were out of the way, and all those I did not want seemed
to place themselves under my fingers; my cash, according to the nature
of riches in general, made to itself wings and fled, I verily believe
from one hiding-place to another. To appease this insurrection of the
papers, I gave up putting my things in order till to-morrow morning.

Dined at Kippielaw with a party of neighbours. They had cigars for me,
very politely. But I must break folks off this. I would [not] willingly
be like old Dr. Parr, or any such quiz, who has his tastes and whims,
forsooth, that must be gratified. So no cigars on the journey.

_October_ 12.[356]--Reduced my rebellious papers to order. Set out after
breakfast, and reached Carlisle at eight o'clock at night.

_Rokeby Park, October_ 13.--We were off before seven, and visiting
Appleby Castle by the way (a most interesting and curious place), we got
to Morritt's[357] about half-past four, where we had as warm a welcome
as one of the warmest hearts in the world could give an old friend. I
saw his nephew's wife for the first time, a very pleasing young person.
It was great pleasure to me to see Morritt happy in the midst of his
family circle, undisturbed, as heretofore, by the sickness of any dear
to him.

On recalling my own recollections during my journey I may note that I
found great pleasure in my companion's conversation, as well as in her
mode of managing all her little concerns on the road. I am apt to judge
of character by good-humour and alacrity in these petty concerns. I
think the inconveniences of a journey seem greater to me than formerly;
while, on the other hand, the pleasures it affords are rather less. The
ascent of Stainmore seemed duller and longer than usual, and Bowes,
which used to strike me as a distinguished feature, seemed an ill-formed
mass of rubbish, a great deal lower than I had supposed; yet I have seen
it twenty times at least. On the other hand, what I lose in my own
personal feelings I gain in those of my companion, who shows an
intelligent curiosity and interest in what she sees. I enjoy therefore,
reflectively, _veluti in speculo_, the sort of pleasure to which I am
now less accessible.

_October_ 14.--Strolled about in the morning with Morritt, and saw his
new walk up the Tees, which he is just concocting. Got a pamphlet he has
written on the Catholic Question. In 1806 he had other views on that
subject, but "live and learn" as they say. One of his squibs against Fox
and Grenville's Administration concludes--

    "Though they sleep with the devil, yet theirs is the hope,
    On the scum of old England, to rise with the Pope."

Set off at two, and reached Wetherby to supper and bed.

It was the Corporation of Leeds that by a subscription of £80,000
brought in the anti-Catholic candidate. I remember their subscribing a
similar sum to bring in Morritt, if he would have stood.

Saw in Morritt's possession an original miniature of Milton by Cooper--a
valuable thing indeed. The pedigree seemed authentic. It was painted
for his favourite daughter--had come into possession of some of the
Davenants--was then in the Devonshire collection from which it was
stolen. Afterwards purchased by Sir Joshua Reynolds, and at his sale by
Morritt or his father.[358] The countenance handsome and dignified, with
a strong expression of genius, probably the only portrait of Milton
taken from the life excepting the drawing from which Faithorne's head is
done.

[_Grantham_,] _October_ 15.--Old England is no changeling. It is long
since I travelled this road, having come up to town chiefly by sea of
late years, but things seem much the same. One race of red-nosed
innkeepers are gone, and their widows, eldest sons, or head-waiters
exercise hospitality in their room with the same bustle and importance.
Other things seem, externally at least, much the same. The land,
however, is much better ploughed; straight ridges everywhere adopted in
place of the old circumflex of twenty years ago. Three horses, however,
or even four, are often seen in a plough yoked one before the other. Ill
habits do not go out at once. We slept at Grantham, where we met with
Captain William Lockhart and his lady, bound for London like ourselves.

[_Biggleswade_,] _October_ 16.--Visited Burleigh this morning; the first
time I ever saw that grand place, where there are so many objects of
interest and curiosity. The house is magnificent, in the style of James
I.'s reign, and consequently in mixed Gothic. Of paintings I know
nothing; so shall attempt to say nothing. But whether to connoisseurs,
or to an ignorant admirer like myself, the Salvator Mundi, by Carlo
Dolci, must seem worth a King's ransom. Lady Exeter, who was at home,
had the goodness or curiosity to wish to see us. She is a beauty after
my own heart; a great deal of liveliness in the face; an absence alike
of form and of affected ease, and really courteous after a genuine and
ladylike fashion.

We reached Biggleswade to-night at six, and paused here to wait for the
Lockharts. Spent the evening together.

[_Pall Mall_,] _October_ 17.--Here am I in this capital once more, after
an April-weather meeting with my daughter and Lockhart. Too much grief
in our first meeting to be joyful; too much pleasure to be
distressing--a giddy sensation between the painful and the pleasurable.
I will call another subject.

Read over _Sir John Chiverton_[359] and _Brambletye House_[360]--novels
in what I may surely claim as the style

    "Which I was born to introduce--
    Refined it first, and show'd its use."

They are both clever books; one in imitation of the days of chivalry;
the other (by Horace Smith, one of the authors of the _Rejected
Addresses_) dated in the time of the Civil Wars, and introducing
historical characters. I read both with great interest during the
journey.

I am something like Captain Bobadil[361] who trained up a hundred
gentlemen to fight very nearly, if not altogether, as well as myself.
And so far I am convinced of this, that I believe were I to publish the
_Canongate Chronicles_ without my name (_nom de guerre_, I mean) the
event would be a corollary to the fable of the peasant who made the real
pig squeak against the imitator, while the sapient audience hissed the
poor grunter as if inferior to the biped in his own language. The
peasant could, indeed, confute the long-eared multitude by showing
piggy; but were I to fail as a knight with a white and maiden shield,
and then vindicate my claim to attention by putting "By the Author of
_Waverley_" in the title, my good friend _Publicum_ would defend itself
by stating I had tilted so ill, that my course had not the least
resemblance to my former doings, when indisputably I bore away the
garland. Therefore I am as firmly and resolutely determined that I will
tilt under my own cognisance. The hazard, indeed, remains of being
beaten. But there is a prejudice (not an undue one neither) in favour of
the original patentee; and Joe Manton's name has borne out many a sorry
gun-barrel. More of this to-morrow.

Expense of journey,                    £4100
Anne, pocket-money,                      500
Servants on journey,                     200
Cash in purse (silver not reckoned),     200
                                        ____
                                       £5000
                                        ____

This is like to be an expensive journey; but if I can sell an early copy
of the work to a French translator, it should bring me home.

Thank God, little Johnnie Hoo, as he calls himself, is looking well,
though the poor dear child is kept always in a prostrate posture.

_October_ 18.--I take up again my remarks on imitators. I am sure I mean
the gentlemen no wrong by calling them so, and heartily wish they had
followed a better model; but it serves to show me _veluti in speculo_ my
own errors, or, if you will, those of the _style_. One advantage, I
think, I still have over all of them. They may do their fooling with
better grace; but I, like Sir Andrew Aguecheek, do it more
natural.[362] They have to read old books and consult antiquarian
collections to get their knowledge; I write because I have long since
read such works, and possess, thanks to a strong memory, the information
which they have to seek for. This leads to a dragging-in historical
details by head and shoulders, so that the interest of the main piece is
lost in minute descriptions of events which do not affect its progress.
Perhaps I have sinned in this way myself; indeed, I am but too conscious
of having considered the plot only as what Bayes[363] calls the means of
bringing in fine things; so that in respect to the descriptions, it
resembled the string of the showman's box, which he pulls to show in
succession Kings, Queens, the Battle of Waterloo, Bonaparte at Saint
Helena, Newmarket Races, and White-headed Bob floored by Jemmy from
town. All this I may have done, but I have repented of it; and in my
better efforts, while I conducted my story through the agency of
historical personages, and by connecting it with historical incidents, I
have endeavoured to weave them pretty closely together, and in future I
will study this more. Must not let the background eclipse the principal
figures--the frame overpower the picture.

Another thing in my favour is, that my contemporaries steal too openly.
Mr. Smith has inserted in _Brambletye House_ whole pages from Defoe's
_Fire and Plague of London_.

    "Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase--
    Convey, the wise it call!"[364]

When I _convey_ an incident or so, I am at as much pains to avoid
detection as if the offence could be indicted in literal fact at the Old
Bailey.

But leaving this, hard pressed as I am by these imitators, who must put
the thing out of fashion at last, I consider, like a fox at his last
shifts, whether there be a way to dodge them, some new device to throw
them off, and have a mile or two of free ground, while I have legs and
wind left to use it. There is one way to give novelty: to depend for
success on the interest of a well-contrived story. But woe's me! that
requires thought, consideration--the writing out a regular plan or
plot--above all the adhering to one--which I never can do, for the ideas
rise as I write, and bear such a disproportioned extent to that which
each occupied at the first concoction, that (cocksnowns!) I shall never
be able to take the trouble; and yet to make the world stare, and gain a
new march ahead of them all!!! Well, something we still will do.

    "Liberty's in every blow;
    Let us do or die!"

Poor Rob Burns! to tack thy fine strains of sublime patriotism! Better
take Tristram Shandy's vein. Hand me my cap and bells there. So now, I
am equipped. I open my raree-show with

    Ma'am, will you walk in, and fal de ral diddle?
    And, sir, will you stalk in, and fal de ral diddle?
    And, miss, will you pop in, and fal de ral diddle?
    And, master, pray hop in, and fal de ral diddle?

Query--How long is it since I heard that strain of dulcet mood, and
where or how came I to pick it up? It is not mine, "though by your
smiling you seem to say so."[365] Here is a proper morning's work! But I
am childish with seeing them all well and happy here; and as I can
neither whistle nor sing, I must let the giddy humour run to waste on
paper.

Sallied forth in the morning; bought a hat. Met S[ir] W[illiam]
K[nighton],[366] from whose discourse I guess that _Malachi_ has done me
no prejudice in a certain quarter; with more indications of the times,
which I need not set down. Sallied again after breakfast, and visited
the Piccadilly ladies.[367] Saw Rogers and Richard Sharp, also good Dr.
and Mrs. Hughes, also the Duchess of Buckingham, and Lady Charlotte
Bury, with a most beautiful little girl. [Owen] Rees breakfasted, and
agreed I should have what the Frenchman has offered for the advantage of
translating _Napoleon_, which, being a hundred guineas, will help my
expenses to town and down again.

_October_ 19.--I rose at my usual time, but could not write; so read
Southey's _History of the Peninsular War_. It is very good
indeed,--honest English principle in every line; but there are many
prejudices, and there is a tendency to augment a work already too long
by saying all that can be said of the history of ancient times
appertaining to every place mentioned. What care we whether Saragossa be
derived from Caesarea Augusta? Could he have proved it to be Numantium,
there would have been a concatenation accordingly.[368]

Breakfasted at Rogers' with Sir Thomas Lawrence; Luttrell, the great
London wit;[369] Richard Sharp, etc. Sam made us merry with an account
of some part of Rose's _Ariosto_; proposed that the Italian should be
printed on the other side for the sake of assisting the indolent reader
to understand the English; and complained of his using more than once
the phrase of a lady having "voided her saddle," which would certainly
sound extraordinary at Apothecaries' Hall. Well, well, Rose carries a
dirk too.[370] The morning was too dark for Westminster Abbey, which we
had projected.

I went to the Foreign Office, and am put by Mr. Wilmot Horton into the
hands of a confidential clerk, Mr. Smith, who promises access to
everything. Then saw Croker, who gave me a bundle of documents. Sir
George Cockburn promises his despatches and journal. In short, I have
ample prospect of materials.

Dined with Mrs. Coutts. Tragi-comic distress of my good friend on the
marriage of her presumptive heir with a daughter of Lucien Bonaparte.

_October_ 20.--Commanded down to pass a day at Windsor. This is very
kind of His Majesty.

At breakfast, Crofton Croker, author of the _Irish Fairy Tales_--little
as a dwarf, keen-eyed as a hawk, and of very prepossessing manners.
Something like Tom Moore. There were also Terry, Allan Cunningham,
Newton, and others. Now I must go to work.

Went down to Windsor, or rather to the Lodge in the Forest, which,
though ridiculed by connoisseurs, seems to be no bad specimen of a royal
retirement, and is delightfully situated. A kind of cottage ornée--too
large perhaps for the style--but yet so managed that in the walks you
only see parts of it at once, and these well composed and grouping with
immense trees. His Majesty received me with the same mixture of kindness
and courtesy which has always distinguished his conduct towards me.
There was no company beside the royal retinue--Lady C[onyngham], her
daughter, and two or three other ladies. After we left table, there was
excellent music by the Royal Band, who lay ambushed in a green-house
adjoining the apartment. The King made me sit beside him and talk a
great deal--_too much_, perhaps--for he has the art of raising one's
spirits, and making you forget the _retenue_ which is prudent
everywhere, especially at court. But he converses himself with so much
ease and elegance, that you lose thoughts of the prince in admiring the
well-bred and accomplished gentleman. He is, in many respects, the model
of a British monarch--has little inclination to try experiments on
government otherwise than through his ministers--sincerely, I believe,
desires the good of his subjects, is kind toward the distressed, and
moves and speaks "every inch a king."[371] I am sure such a man is
fitter for us than one who would long to head armies, or be perpetually
intermeddling with _la grande politique_. A sort of reserve, which
creeps on him daily, and prevents his going to places of public resort,
is a disadvantage, and prevents his being so generally popular as is
earnestly to be desired. This, I think, was much increased by the
behaviour of the rabble in the brutal insanity of the Queen's trial,
when John Bull, meaning the best in the world, made such a beastly
figure.

_October_ 21.--Walked in the morning with Sir William Knighton, and had
much confidential chat, not fit to be here set down, in case of
accidents. He undertook most kindly to recommend Charles, when he has
taken his degree, to be attached to some of the diplomatic missions,
which I think is best for the lad after all. After breakfast went to
Windsor Castle, met by appointment my daughters and Lockhart, and
examined the improvements going on there under Mr. Wyattville, who
appears to possess a great deal of taste and feeling for Gothic
architecture. The old apartments, splendid enough in extent and
proportion, are paltry in finishing. Instead of being lined with heart
of oak, the palace of the British King is hung with paper, painted
wainscot colour. There are some fine paintings and some droll ones;
among the last are those of divers princes of the House of
Mecklenburg-Strelitz, of which Queen Charlotte was descended. They are
ill-coloured, orang-outang-looking figures, with black eyes and
hook-noses, in old-fashioned uniforms.

We returned to a hasty dinner [in Pall Mall], and then hurried away to
see honest Dan Terry's house, called the Adelphi Theatre, where we saw
the _Pilot_, from the American novel of that name. It is extremely
popular, the dramatist having seized on the whole story, and turned the
odious and ridiculous parts, assigned by the original author to the
British, against the Yankees themselves. There is a quiet effrontery in
this that is of a rare and peculiar character. The Americans were so
much displeased, that they attempted a row--which rendered the piece
doubly attractive to the seamen at Wapping, who came up and crowded the
house night after night, to support the honour of the British flag.
After all, one must deprecate whatever keeps up ill-will betwixt America
and the mother country; and we in particular should avoid awakening
painful recollections. Our high situation enables us to contemn petty
insults and to make advances towards cordiality. I was, however, glad to
see honest Dan's theatre as full seemingly as it could hold. The heat
was dreadful, and Anne was so very unwell that she was obliged to be
carried into Terry's house,--a curious dwelling, no larger than a
squirrel's cage, which he has contrived to squeeze out of the vacant
spaces of the theatre, and which is accessible by a most complicated
combination of staircases and small passages. Here we had rare good
porter and oysters after the play, and found Anne much better. She had
attempted too much; indeed I myself was much fatigued.

_October_ 22.--This morning Drs. Gooch, Shaw, and Yates breakfasted, and
had a consultation about wee Johnnie. They give us great hopes that his
health will be established, but the seaside or the country seem
indispensable. Mr. Wilmot Horton,[372] Under Secretary of State, also
breakfasted. He is full of some new plan of relieving the poor's-rates
by encouraging emigration. But John Bull will think this savours of
Botany Bay. The attempt to look the poor's-rates in the face is
certainly meritorious.

Laboured in writing and marking extracts to be copied from breakfast to
dinner, with the exception of an hour spent in telling Johnnie the
history of his namesake, Gilpin.

Mr. William and Mrs. Lockhart dined with us. Tom Moore[373] and Sir
Thomas Lawrence came in the evening, which made a pleasant _soirée_.
Smoke my French--Egad, it is time to air some of my vocabulary. It is, I
find, cursedly musty.

_October_ 23.--Sam Rogers and Moore breakfasted here, and we were very
merry fellows. Moore seemed disposed to go to France with us. I visited
the Admiralty, and got Sir George Cockburn's journal, which is
valuable.[374] Also visited Lady Elizabeth and Sir Charles Stewart. My
heart warmed to the former, on account of the old Balcarres connection.
Sir Charles and she were very kind and communicative. I foresee I will
be embarrassed with more communications than I can well use or trust to,
coloured as they must be by the passions of those who make them. Thus I
have a statement from the Duchess d'Escars, to which the Bonapartists
would, I dare say, give no credit. If Talleyrand, for example, could be
communicative, he must have ten thousand reasons for perverting the
truth, and yet a person receiving a direct communication from him would
be almost barred from disputing it.

    "Sing tantararara, rogues all."

We dined at the Residentiary-house with good Dr. Hughes,[375] Allan
Cunningham, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and young Mr. Hughes. Thomas
Pringle[376] is returned from the Cape, and called in my absence. He
might have done well there, could he have scoured his brain of politics,
but he must needs publish a Whig journal at the Cape of Good Hope! He is
a worthy creature, but conceited withal--_hinc illæ lachrymæ._ He
brought me some antlers and a skin, in addition to others he had sent to
Abbotsford four years since. Crofton Croker made me a present of a small
box of curious Irish antiquities containing a gold fibula, etc. etc.

_October_ 24--Laboured in the morning. At breakfast Dr. Holland[377] and
Cohen, whom they now call Palgrave,[378] a mutation of names which
confused my recollections. Item, Moore. I worked at the Colonial Office
pretty hard. Dined with Mr. Wilmot Horton and his beautiful wife, the
original of the "_She walks in Beauty_," etc., of poor Byron.

The conversation is seldom excellent among official people. So many
topics are what Otaheitians call _taboo_. We hunted down a pun or two,
which were turned out, like the stag at the Epping Hunt, for the pursuit
of all and sundry. Came home early, and was in bed by eleven.

_October_ 25.--Good Mr. Wilson[379] and his wife at breakfast; also Sir
Thomas Lawrence. Locker[380] came in afterwards, and made a proposal to
me to give up his intended Life of George III. in my favour on cause
shown. I declined the proposal, not being of opinion that _my_ genius
lies that way, and not relishing hunting in couples. Afterwards went to
the Colonial Office, and had Robert Hay's assistance in my inquiries;
then to the French Ambassador for my passports. Picked up Sotheby, who
endeavoured to saddle me for a review of his polyglot Virgil. I fear I
shall scarce convince him that I know nothing of the Latin lingo. Sir
R.H. Inglis, Richard Sharp, and other friends called. We dined at Miss
Dumergue's, and spent a part of our soirée at Lydia White's. To-morrow,

    "For France, for France, for it is more than need."[381]

[_Calais_,] _October_ 26.--- Up at five, and in the packet by six. A
fine passage--save at the conclusion, while we lay on and off the
harbour of Calais. But the tossing made no impression on my companion or
me; we ate and drank like dragons the whole way, and were able to manage
a good supper and best part of a bottle of Chablis, at the classic
Dessein's, who received us with much courtesy.

_October_ 27.--Custom House, etc., detained us till near ten o'clock,
so we had time to walk on the Boulevards, and to see the fortifications,
which must be very strong, all the country round being flat and marshy.
Lost, as all know, by the bloody papist bitch (one must be vernacular
when on French ground) Queen Mary, of red-hot memory. I would rather she
had burned a score more of bishops. If she had kept it, her sister Bess
would sooner have parted with her virginity. Charles I. had no
temptation to part with it--it might, indeed, have been shuffled out of
our hands during the Civil wars, but Noll would have as soon let
monsieur draw one of his grinders; then Charles II. would hardly have
dared to sell such an old possession, as he did Dunkirk; and after that
the French had little chance till the Revolution. Even then, I think, we
could have held a place that could be supplied from our own element, the
sea. _Cui bono?_ None, I think, but to plague the rogues.--We dined at
Cormont, and being stopped by Mr. Canning having taken up all the
post-horses, could only reach Montreuil that night. I should have liked
to have seen some more of this place, which is fortified; and as it
stands on an elevated and rocky site must present some fine points. But
as we came in late and left early, I can only bear witness to good
treatment, good supper, good _vin de Barsac_, and excellent beds.

_October_ 28.--Breakfasted at Abbeville, and saw a very handsome Gothic
church, and reached Grandvilliers at night. The house is but
second-rate, though lauded by various English travellers for the
moderation of its charges, as was recorded in a book presented to us by
the landlady. There is no great patriotism in publishing that a
traveller thinks the bills moderate; it serves usually as an intimation
to mine host or hostess that John Bull will bear a little more
squeezing. I gave my attestation too, however, for the charges of the
good lady resembled those elsewhere; and her anxiety to please was
extreme. Folks must be harder-hearted than I am to resist the
_empressement_, which may, indeed, be venal, yet has in its expression
a touch of cordiality.

[_Paris_,] _October_ 29.--Breakfasted at Beauvais, and saw its
magnificent cathedral--unfinished it has been left, and unfinished it
will remain, of course,--the fashion of cathedrals being passed away.
But even what exists is inimitable, the choir particularly, and the
grand front. Beauvais is called the _Pucelle_, yet, so far as I can see,
she wears no stays--I mean, has no fortifications. On we run, however.
_Vogue la galère; et voilà nous à Paris_, Hotel de Windsor [_Rue
Rivoli_], where we are well lodged. France, so far as I can see, which
is very little, has not undergone many changes. The image of war has,
indeed, passed away, and we no longer see troops crossing the country in
every direction; villages either ruined or hastily fortified;
inhabitants sheltered in the woods and caves to escape the rapacity of
the soldiers--all this has passed away. The inns are much amended. There
is no occasion for that rascally practice of making a bargain--or
_combien_-ing your landlady, before you unharness your horses, which
formerly was a matter of necessity. The general taste of the English
seems to regulate the travelling--naturally enough, as the hotels, of
which there are two or three in each town, chiefly subsist by them. We
did not see one French equipage on the road; the natives seem to travel
entirely in the Diligence, and doubtless _à bon marché_; the road was
thronged with English.