friends from us - _Haec poena diu viventibus_. Many recollections die
with him and with poor Terry.[355] I dined with the Skenes in a family
way.
_July_ 10, - Had a hard day's work at the Court till about two, and then
came home to prepare for the country. I made a _talis qualis_
arrangement of my papers, which I trust I shall be able to complete at
Abbotsford, for it will do much good. I wish I had a smart boy like Red
Robin the tinker. Wrote also a pack of letters.
_Abbotsford, July_ 11. - I was detained in the Court till nearly one
o'clock, then set out and reached Abbotsford in five or six hours. Found
all well, and Johnnie rather better. He sleeps, by virtue of being in
the open air, a good deal.
_July_ 12. - The day excessively rainy, or, as we call it, soft. I e'en
unpacked my books and did a great deal to put them in order, but I was
sick of the labour by two o'clock and left several of my books and all
of my papers at sixes and sevens. Sir Adam and the Colonel dined with
us. A Spanish gentleman with his wife, whom I had seen at the French
Consul's, also dropped in. He was a handsome, intelligent, and sensible
man; his name I have forgot. We had a pleasant evening.
_July_ 13. - This day I wrote till one, resuming the History, and making
out a day's task. Then went to Chiefswood, and had the pleasure of a
long walk with a lady, well known in the world of poetry, Mrs. Hemans.
She is young and pretty, though the mother of five children, as she
tells me. There is taste and spirit in her conversation. My daughters
are critical, and call her blue, but I think they are hypercritical. I
will know better when we meet again. I was home at four. Had an evening
walk with little Walter, who held me by the finger, gabbling eternally
much that I did, and more that I did not, understand. Then I had a long
letter to write to Lockhart,[356] correct and read, and despatch proofs,
etc.; and to bed heartily tired, though with no great exertion.
_July_ 14. - A rainy forenoon broke the promise of a delightful morning.
I wrote four and a half pages, to make the best of a bad bargain. If I
can double the daily task, I will be something in hand. But I am
resolved to stick to my three pages a day at least. The twelfth of
August will then complete my labours.
_July_ 15. - This day two very pretty and well-bred boys came over to
breakfast with us. I finished my task of three pages and better, and
went to walk with the little fellows round the farm, by the lake, etc.,
etc. They were very good companions. Tom has been busy thinning the
terrace this day or two, and is to go on.
_July_ 16. - I made out my task-work and betook myself to walk about
twelve. I feel the pen turn heavy after breakfast; perhaps my solemn
morning meal is too much for my intellectual powers, but I won't abridge
a single crumb for all that. I eat very little at dinner, and can't
abide to be confined in my hearty breakfast. The work goes on as
task-work must, slow, sure, and I trust not drowsy, though the author
is. I sent off to Dionysius Lardner (Goodness be with us, what a name!)
as far as page thirty-eight inclusive, but I will wait to add
to-morrow's quota. I had a long walk with Tom.[357] I am walking with
more pleasure and comfort to myself than I have done for many a day.
May Heaven continue this great mercy, which I have so much reason to be
thankful for!
_July_ 17. - - We called at Chiefswood and asked Captain Hamilton, and
Mrs. H., and Mrs. Hemans, to dinner on Monday. She is a clever person,
and has been pretty. I had a long walk with her _tête-à -tête_. She told
me of the peculiar melancholy attached to the words _no more_. I could
not help telling, as a different application of the words, how an old
dame riding home along Cockenzie Sands, pretty bowsy, fell off the
pillion, and her husband, being in good order also, did not miss her
till he came to Prestonpans. He instantly returned with some neighbours,
and found the good woman seated amidst the advancing tide, which began
to rise, with her lips ejaculating to her cummers, who she supposed were
still pressing her to another cup, "Nae ae drap mair, I thank you
kindly." We dined in family, and all well.
_July_ 18. - - A Sunday with alternate showers and sunshine. Wrote double
task, which brings me to page forty-six inclusive. I read the
_Spae-wife_ of Galt. There is something good in it, and the language is
occasionally very forcible, but he has made his story difficult to
understand, by adopting a region of history little known, and having
many heroes of the same name, whom it is not easy to keep separate in
one's memory. Some of the traits of the _Spae-wife_, who conceits
herself to be a changeling or twin, are very good indeed. His Highland
Chief is a kind of Caliban, and speaks, like Caliban, a jargon never
spoken on earth, but full of effect for all that.
_July_ 19. - I finished two leaves this morning, and received the
Hamiltons and Mrs. Hemans to breakfast. Afterwards we drove to Yarrow
and showed Mrs. Hemans the lions. The party dined with us, and stayed
till evening. Of course no more work.
_July_ 20. - A rainy day, and I am very drowsy and would give the world
to - - - [358]. [Transcriber's Note: In original, there was a blank
space instead of the dashes.] I wrote four leaves, however, and then my
understanding dropped me. I have made up for yesterday's short task.
* * * * *
NOTE. - From July 20th, 1329, to May 23d, 1830, there are no entries
in the Journal, but during that time Sir Walter met with a sad
loss. He was deprived of his humble friend and staunch henchman,
Thomas Purdie. The following little note to Laidlaw shows how
keenly he felt his death: -
"MY DEAR WILLIE, - I write to tell you the shocking news of poor Tom
Purdie's death, by which I have been greatly affected. He had
complained, or rather spoken, of a sore throat; and the day before
yesterday, as it came on a shower of rain, I wanted him to walk
fast on to Abbotsford before me, but you know well how impossible
that was. He took some jelly, or trifle of that kind, but made no
complaint. This morning he rose from bed as usual, and sat down by
the table with his head on his hand; and when his daughter spoke to
him, life had passed away without a sigh or groan. Poor fellow!
There is a heart cold that loved me well, and, I am sure, thought
of my interest more than his own. I have seldom been so much
shocked. I wish you would take a ride down and pass the night.
There is much I have to say, and this loss adds to my wish to see
you. We dine at four. The day is indifferent, but the sooner the
better. - Yours very truly,
"WALTER SCOTT.[359]
"_31st_ (sic) _October_," Qy. _29th_.
To Mr. Cadell, a few days later, he says, "I have lost my old and
faithful servant, my _factotum_, and am so much shocked that I
really wish to be quit of the country. I have this day laid him in
the grave."
On coming to Edinburgh, Sir Walter found that his old friend and
neighbour Lady Jane Stuart[360] was no longer there to welcome him.
She also had died somewhat suddenly on October 28th, and was buried
at Invermay on November 4th.
FOOTNOTES:
[351] Right Hon. David Boyle.
[352] 5 The familiar name applied to Sir William Knighton, sometimes
also the Great Unseen.
[353] For list of the members of _The Club_, which was formed in 1788,
see _Life_, vol. i. p. 208.
[354] Some little time before his death, the worthy Sheriff-substitute
of Roxburghshire received a set of his friend's works, with this
inscription: - "To Robert Shortreed, Esq., the friend of the author from
youth to age, and his guide and companion upon many an expedition among
the Border hills, in quest of the materials of legendary lore which have
at length filled so many volumes, this collection of the results of
their former rambles is presented by his sincere friend, Walter
Scott." - J.G.L.
[355] Who had died on the 22d June 1829.
[356] See p. 329 _n._
[357] Mr. Skene in his _Reminiscences_ records that - "Tom Purdie
identified himself with all his master's pursuits and concerns; he had
in early life been a shepherd, and came into Sir Walter's service upon
his first taking up his abode at Ashiestiel, of which he became at last
the farm manager; and upon the family removing to Abbotsford continued
that function, to which was added gamekeeper, forester, librarian, and
henchman to his master in all his rambles about the property. He used to
talk of Sir Walter's publications as _our_ books, and said that the
reading of them was the greatest comfort to him, for whenever he was off
his sleep, which sometimes happened to him, he had only to take one of
the novels, and before he read two pages it was sure to set him asleep.
Tom, with the usual shrewdness common to his countrymen in that class of
life, joined a quaintness and drollery in his notions and mode of
expressing himself that was very amusing; he was familiar, but at the
same time perfectly respectful, although he was sometimes tempted to
deal sharp cuts, particularly at Sir Adam Ferguson, whom he seemed to
take a pleasure in assailing. When Sir Walter obtained the honour of
knighthood for Sir Adam, upon the plea of his being Custodier of the
Regalia of Scotland, Tom was very indignant, because he said, 'It would
take some of the shine out of us,' meaning Sir Walter. Tom was very fond
of salmon fishing, which from an accordance of taste contributed much to
elevate my merits in his eyes, and I believe I was his greatest
favourite of all Sir Walter's friends, which he used occasionally to
testify by imparting to me in confidence some secret about fishing,
which he concluded that no one knew but himself. He was remarkably
fastidious in his care of the Library, and it was exceedingly amusing to
see a clodhopper (for he was always in the garb of a ploughman) moving
about in the splendid apartment which had been fitted up for the
Library, scrutinising the state of the books, putting derangement to
rights, remonstrating when he observed anything that indicated
carelessness."
[358] Blank in original
[359] _Abbotsford Notanda_, p. 175.
[360] Eldest daughter of David, sixth Earl of Leven and fifth of
Melville, and widow of Sir John Wishart Belsches Stuart, Bart., of
Fettercairn. See _ante_, vol. i. p. 404; vol. ii. pp. 55, 62.
1830.
MAY.
_May_ 23, [_Abbotsford._] - About a year ago I took the pet at my Diary,
chiefly because I thought it made me abominably selfish; and that by
recording my gloomy fits I encouraged their recurrence, whereas out of
sight, out of mind, is the best way to get rid of them; and now I hardly
know why I take it up again; but here goes. I came here to attend
Raeburn's funeral. I am near of his kin, my great-grandfather, Walter
Scott, being the second son or first cadet of this small family. My late
kinsman was also married to my aunt, a most amiable old lady. He was
never kind to me, and at last utterly ungracious. Of course I never
liked him, and we kept no terms. He had forgot, though, an infantine
cause of quarrel, which I always remembered. When I was four or five
years old I was staying at Lessudden House, an old mansion, the abode of
this Raeburn. A large pigeon-house was almost destroyed with starlings,
then a common bird, though now seldom seen. They were seized in their
nests and put in a bag, and I think drowned, or threshed to death, or
put to some such end. The servants gave one to me, which I in some
degree tamed, and the brute of a laird seized and wrung its neck. I flew
at his throat like a wild cat, and was torn from him with no little
difficulty. Long afterwards I did him the mortal offence to recall some
superiority which my father had lent to the laird to make up a
qualification, which he meant to exercise by voting for Lord Minto's
interest against poor Don. This made a total breach between two
relations who had never been friends, and though I was afterwards of
considerable service to his family, he kept his ill-humour, alleging
justly enough that I did these kind actions for the sake of his wife and
family, not for his benefit. I now saw him at the age of eighty-two or
three deposited in the ancestral grave. Dined with my cousins, and
returned to Abbotsford about eight o'clock.
_May 24, [Edinburgh]._ - Called on my neighbour Nicol Milne of
Faldonside, to settle something about the road to Selkirk. Afterwards
went to Huntly Burn and made my compliments to the family. Lunched at
half-past two and drove to town, calling at George Square on Gala. He
proposed to give up the present road to Selkirk in favour of another on
the north side of the river, to be completed by two bridges. This is an
object for Abbotsford. In the evening came to town. Letter from Mr.
H[aydon] soliciting £20. Wait till Lockhart comes.
_May_ 25. - Got into the old mill this morning, and grind away. Walked in
very bad day to George Square from the Parliament House, through paths
once familiar, but not trod for twenty years. Met Scott of Woll and
Scott of Gala, and consulted about the new road between Galashiels and
Selkirk. I am in hopes to rid myself of the road to Selkirk, which goes
too near me at Abbotsford. Dined at Lord Chief Commissioner's, where we
met the new Chief Baron Abercromby[361] and his lady. I thought it was
the first time we had met for above forty years, but he put me in mind
we had dined one day at John Richardson's.
_May_ 26. - Wrought with proofs, etc., at the _Demonology_, which is a
cursed business to do neatly. I must finish it though, for I need
money. I went to the Court; from that came home, and scrambled on with
half writing, half reading, half idleness till evening. I have laid
aside smoking much; and now, unless tempted by company, rarely take a
cigar. I was frightened by a species of fit which I had in February,
which took from me my power of speaking. I am told it is from the
stomach. It looked woundy like palsy or apoplexy. Well, be it what it
will, I can stand it.[362]
_May_ 27. - Court as usual. I am agitating a proposed retirement from
the Court. As they are only to have four instead of six Clerks of
Session in Scotland, it will be their interest to let me retire on a
superannuation. Probably I shall make a bad bargain, and get only
two-thirds of the salary, instead of three-fourths. This would be hard,
but I could save between two and three hundred pounds by giving up town
residence; and surely I could do enough with my time at reviews and
other ways, so as to make myself comfortable at Abbotsford. At any rate,
_jacta est aha_; Sir Robert Peel and the Advocate seem to acquiesce in
the arrangement, and Sir Robert Dundas retires alongst with me. I think
the difference will be infinite in point of health and happiness.
_May_ 28. - Wrought in the morning, then the Court, then Cadell's. My
affairs go on up to calculation, and the _Magnum_ keeps its ground. If
this can last for five or six years longer we may clear our hands of
debt; but perhaps I shall have paid that of Nature before that time
come. They will have the books, and Cadell to manage them, who is a
faithful pilot. The poetry which we purchased for [£7000], payable in
two years, is melting off our hands; and we will feed our _Magnum_ in
that way when we have sold the present stock, by which we hope to pay
the purchase-money, and so go on velvet with the continuation. So my
general affairs look well. I expect Lockhart and Sophia to arrive this
evening in the Roads, and breakfast with us to-morrow. This is very
reviving.
_May_ 29. - The Lockharts were to appear at nine o'clock, but it is past
four, and they come not. There has been easterly wind, and a swell of
the sea at the mouth of the Firth, but nevertheless I wish they would
come. The machinery is liable to accidents, and they may be delayed
thus.
Mr. Piper, the great contractor for the mail coaches, one of the
sharpest men in his line, called here to-day to give his consent to our
line of road. He pays me the compliment of saying he wishes my views on
the subject. That is perhaps fudge, but at least I know enough to choose
the line that is most for my own advantage. I have written to make Gala
acquainted that my subscription depends on their taking the Gala foot
road; no other would suit me. After dinner I began to tease myself about
the children and their parents, and night went down on our uncertainty.
_May_ 30. - Our travellers appeared early in the morning, _cum tota
sequela_. Right happy were we all. Poor Johnnie looks well. His
deformity is confirmed, poor fellow; but he may be a clever lad for all
that. An imposthume in his neck seems to be the crisis of his complaint.
He is a gentle, placid creature. Walter is remarkably handsome, and so
is little Whippety Stourie,[363] as I call her. After breakfast I had a
chat with Lockhart about affairs in general, which, as far as our little
interests are concerned, are doing very well. Lockhart is now
established in his reputation and literary prospects.[364] I wrote some
more in his _Demonology_, which is a scrape, I think.
_May_ 31. - Set to work early, and did a good day's work without much
puffing and blowing. Had Lockhart at dinner, and a _tête-à -tête_ over
our cigar. He has got the right ideas for getting to the very head of
the literary world and now stands very high as well for taste and
judgment as for genius. I think there is no fear now of his letting a
love of fun run away with him. At home the whole day, except a walk to
Cadell's, who is enlarging his sale. As he comes upon heavy months, and
is come now to the _Abbot_, the _Monastery_, and the less profitable or
popular of the novels, this is a fortunate circumstance. The management
seems very judicious.
FOOTNOTES:
[361] James Abercromby, who succeeded Sir Samuel Shepherd as Chief
Baron, was the third son of Sir Ralph Abercromby. He was afterwards
elected member for Edinburgh in 1832, and Speaker of the House of
Commons in 1835. On Mr. Abercromby's retirement in 1839, he was raised
to the Peerage as Lord Dunfermline. He died at Colinton House on April
17th, 1858, aged 81.
[362] Of this illness, Sir Walter had written the following account to
Mr. Lockhart, a week after its occurrence: -
"Anne would tell you of an awkward sort of fit I had on Monday last; it
lasted about five minutes, during which I lost the power of
articulation, or rather of speaking what I wished to say. I revived
instantly, but submitted to be bled, and to keep the house for a week,
except exercising walks. They seem to say it is from the stomach. It may
or may not be a paralytic affection. We must do the best we can in
either event. I think by hard work I will have all my affairs regulated
within five or six years, and leave the means of clearing them in case
of my death. I hope there will be enough for all, and provision besides
for my own family. The present return of the novels to me is about £8000
a year, which moves fast on to clear off old scores.
"This awkward turn of health makes my motions very uncertain. On the one
hand I want to save money and push forward work, both which motives urge
me to stay at home this spring. On the other, besides my great wish to
see you all, and besides my desire to look at the 'forty-five' affairs,
I am also desirous to put in for my interest upon the changes at the
Court.... It must be very much as health and weather shall determine,
for if I see the least chance of a return of this irritation, my own
house will be the only fit place for me. Do not suppose I am either
low-spirited or frightened at the possibilities I calculate upon, but
there is no harm in looking at what may be as what needs must be. I
really believe the ugly symptoms proceed from the stomach particularly.
I feel, thank God, no mental injury, which is most of all to be
deprecated. Still, I am a good deal failed in body within these two or
three last years, and the _singula praedantur_ come by degrees to make
up a sum. They say, 'Do not work,' but my habits are such that it is not
easily managed, for I would be driven mad with idleness.... Adieu. Love
to all. The odds are greatly against my seeing you till you come down
here, but I will have the cottage in such order for you; and as Will
Laidlaw comes back at Whitsunday, I will have him to lend me an arm to
Chiefswood, and I have no doubt to do gallantly.
"EDINBURGH, _22d February_ [1830]."
[363] His grand-daughter, Charlotte, whom he playfully named after the
fairy in the old Scottish Nursery story.
[364] Mr. Lockhart had some thoughts of entering Parliament, at this
time, and Sir Walter had expressed his opinion a few days before their
meeting: -
"Your letter, this day received, namely Wednesday, gave me the greatest
pleasure on account of the prosperous intelligence which it gives me of
your own advancing prospects.... I take it for granted that you have
looked to the income of future years before thinking of disposing of the
profits of a successful one in a manner which cannot be supposed to
produce positive Or direct advantage, but may rather argue some
additional degree of expense.
"But this being _premeesed_, I cannot help highly approving of your
going into Parliament, especially as a member entirely unfettered and
left to act according to the weal of the public, or what you conceive
such. It is the broad turnpike to importance and consequence which you,
as a man of talents in the full vigour of your youth, ought naturally to
be ambitious of. The present times threaten to bring in many occasions
when there will and must be opportunities of a man distinguishing
himself and serving his country.
"To go into the House without speaking would be useless. I will frankly
tell you that when I heard you speak you seemed always sufficiently up
to the occasion both in words and matter, but too indifferent in the
manner in which you pressed your argument, and therefore far less likely
to attract attention than if you had seemed more earnestly persuaded of
the truth and importance of what you have been saying. I think you may
gain advantage from taking this hint. No one is disposed to weigh any
man's arguments more favourably than he himself does, and if you are not
considered as gravely interested in what you say, and conscious of its
importance, your audience will not be so....
"EDINBURGH, _20th May 1830_."
JUNE.
_June_, 1. - Proofs and Court, the inevitable employment of the day.
Louisa Kerr dined with us, and Williams looked in. We talked a good deal
on Celtic witchery and fairy lore. I was glad to renew my acquaintance
with this able and learned man.
_June_ 2. - The Lockharts left us again this morning, and although three
masons are clanking at their work to clear a well, the noise is
mitigated, now the poor babies' clang of tongues is removed. I set
myself to write, determining to avoid reasoning, and to bring in as many
stories as possible. Being a Teind Wednesday, I may work undisturbed,
and I will try to get so far ahead as may permit a journey to Abbotsford
on Saturday. At nine o'clock was as far ahead as page 57. It runs out
well, and 150 pages will do.
_June_ 3. - Finished my proofs, and sent them off with copy. I saw Mr.
Dickinson[365] on Tuesday: a right plain sensible man. He is so
confident in my matters, that, being a large creditor himself, he offers
to come down, with the support of all the London creditors, to carry
through any measure that can be devised for my behoof. Mr. Cadell showed
him that we are four years forward in matter prepared for the press. Got
Heath's illustrations, which, I dare say, are finely engraved, but
commonplace enough in point of art.
_June_ 4. - Court as usual, and not long detained. Visited Cadell. All
right, and his reports favourable, it being the launch of our annual
volume, now traversing a year, with unblemished reputation and success
uninterrupted. I should have said I overhauled proofs and furnished copy
in the morning between seven and ten o'clock.
After coming from the Court I met Woll and Gala, and agreed upon the
measures to be attempted at Selkirk on the eighth at the meeting of
trustees. In the evening smoked an extra cigar (none since Tuesday), and
dedicated the rest to putting up papers, etc., for Abbotsford. Anne
wants me to go to hear the Tyrolese Minstrels, but though no one more
esteems that bold and high-spirited people, I cannot but think their
yodelling, if this be the word, is a variation, or set of variations,
upon the tones of a jackass, so I remain to dribble and scribble at
home.
_June_ 5. - I rose at seven as usual, and, to say truth, dawdled away my
time in putting things to rights, which is a vile amusement, and writing
letters to people who write to ask my opinion of their books, which is
as much as to say - "Tom, come tickle me." This is worse than the other
pastime, but either may serve for a broken day, and both must be done
sometimes.
[_Abbotsford_.] - After the Court, started for Abbotsford at half-past
twelve at noon, and here we are at half-past five _impransi_. The
country looks beautiful, though the foliage, larches in particular, have
had a blight. Yet they can hardly be said to lose foliage since they
have but a sort of brushes at best.
_June_ 6. - Went through a good deal of duty as to proofs, and the like.
At two set out and reached by four Chiefswood, where I had the happiness
to find the Lockharts all in high spirits, well and happy. Johnnie must
be all his life a weakly child, but he may have good health, and
possesses an admirable temper. We dined with the Lockharts, and were all
very happy.
_June_ 7. - Same duty carefully performed. I continued working till
about one, when Lockhart came to walk. We took our course round by the
Lake. I was a good deal fagged, and must have tired my companion by
walking slow. The Fergusons came over - Sir Adam in all his glory - and
"the night drave on wi' sangs and clatter."[366]
_June_ 8. - Had not time to do more than correct a sheet or two. About
eleven set off for Selkirk, where there was a considerable meeting of
road trustees. The consideration of the new road was intrusted to a
committee which in some measure blinks the question; yet I think it must
do in the end. I dined with the Club, young Chesters president. It is
but bad fun, but I might be father of most of them, and must have
patience. At length
"Hame cam our gudeman at e'en,
And hame cam he."[367]
_June_ 9. - In the morning I advised Sheriff Court processes, carried on
the _Demonology_ till twelve, then put books, etc., in some order to
leave behind me. Will it be ordered that I come back not like a
stranger, or sojourner, but to inhabit here? I do not know; I shall be
happy either way. It is perhaps a violent change in the end of life to
quit the walk one has trod so long, and the cursed splenetic temper,
which besets all men, makes you value opportunities and circumstances
when one enjoys them no longer. Well! things must be as they may, as
says that great philosopher Corporal Nym.[368]
[_Edinburgh_.] - I had my walk, and on my return found the Lockharts come
to take luncheon, and leave of us. Reached Edinburgh at nine o'clock.
Found, among less interesting letters, two from Lord Northampton on the
death of the poor Marchioness,[369] and from Anna Jane Clephane on the
same melancholy topic. _Hei mihi!_
_June_ 10. - Corrected proofs, prepared some copy, and did all that was
right. Dined and wrought in the evening, yet I did not make much way
after all.
_June_ 11. - In the morning, the usual labour of two hours. God bless
that habit of being up at seven! I could do nothing without it, but it
keeps me up to the scratch, as they say. I had a letter this morning
with deep mourning paper and seal; the mention of my nephew in the first
line made me sick, fearing it had related to Walter. It was from poor
Sir Thomas Bradford, who has lost his lady, but was indeed an account of
Walter,[370] and a good one.
_June_ 12. - A day of general labour and much weariness.
_June_ 13. - The same may be said of this day.
_June_ 14. - And of this, only I went out for an hour and a half to Mr.
Colvin Smith, to conclude a picture for Lord Gillies. This is a sad
relief from labour.
"... Sedet æternumque sedebit
Infelix Theseus."[371]
But Lord Gillies has been so kind and civil that I must have his picture
as like as possible.
_June_ 15. - I had at breakfast the son of Mr. Fellenburg[372] of
Hofwyll, Switzerland, a modest young man. I used to think his father
something of a quack, in proposing to discover how a boy's natural
genius lies, with a view to his education. How would they have made me a
scholar, is a curious question. Whatever was forced on me as a task I
should have detested. There was also a gentlemanlike little man, the
Chevalier de - - , silent, and speaks no English. Poor George Scott,
Harden, is dead of the typhus fever. Poor dear boy! I am sorry for him,
and yet more for his parents. I have a letter from Henry on the subject.
_June_ 16. - I wrote this forenoon till I completed the 100 pages, which
is well done. I had a call from Colin Mackenzie, whom I had not seen
for nearly two years. He has not been so well, and looks ghastly, but I
think not worse than I have seen him of late years. We are very old
acquaintances. I remember he was one of a small party at college, that
formed ourselves into a club called the Poetical Society. The other
members were Charles Kerr of Abbotrule (a singular being), Colin
M'Laurin (insane), Colin, and I, who have luckily kept our wits. I also
saw this morning a Mr. Low, a youth of great learning, who has written a
good deal on the early history of Scotland.[373] He is a good-looking,
frank, gentlemanlike lad; with these good gifts only a parish
schoolmaster in Aberdeenshire. Having won a fair holiday I go to see
Miss Kemble for the first time. It is two or three years since I have
been in a theatre, once my delight.
_June_ 17. - Went last night to theatre, and saw Miss Fanny Kemble's
Isabella,[374] which was a most creditable performance. It has much of
the genius of Mrs. Siddons, her aunt. She wants her beautiful
countenance, her fine form, and her matchless dignity of step and
manner. On the other hand, Miss Fanny Kemble has very expressive, though
not regular, features, and what is worth it all, great energy mingled
with and chastened by correct taste. I suffered by the heat, lights, and
exertion, and will not go back to-night, for it has purchased me a sore
headache this theatrical excursion. Besides, the play is Mrs.
Beverley,[375] and I hate to be made miserable about domestic distress,
so I keep my gracious presence at home to-night, though Ive and respect
Miss Kemble for giving her active support to her father in his need, and
preventing Covent Garden from coming down about their ears. I corrected
proofs before breakfast, attended Court, but was idle in the forenoon,
the headache annoying me much. Dinner will make me better. And so it
did. I wrote in the evening three pages, and tolerably well, though I
may say with the Emperor Titus (not Titus Oates) that I have lost a day.
_June_ 18, _[Blair-Adam]_. - Young John Colquhoun of Killermont and his
wife breakfasted with us, - a neat custom that, and saves wine and
wassail. Then to Court, and arranged for our departure for Blair-Adam,
it being near midsummer when the club meets. Anne with me, and Sir Adam
Ferguson. The day was execrable. Our meeting at Blair-Adam was cordial,
but our numbers diminished; the good and very clever Lord Chief
Baron[376] is returned to his own country, with more regrets than in
Scotland usually attend a stranger. Will Clerk has a bad cold, [Thomas]
Thomson is detained, but the Chief Commissioner, Admiral Adam, Sir Adam,
John Thomson and I, make an excellent concert. I only hope our venerable
host will not fatigue himself. To-morrow we go to Culross, which Sir
Robert Preston is repairing, and the wise are asking for whose future
enjoyment. He is upwards of ninety, but still may enjoy the bustle of
life.
_June_ 19. - Arose and expected to work a little, but a friend's house is
not favourable; you are sure to want the book you have not brought, and
are in short out of sorts, like the minister who could not preach out of
his own pulpit. There is something fanciful in this, and something real
too, and I have forgot my watch and left half my glasses at home.
Off we set at half-past eight o'clock, Lord Chief Commissioner being
left at home owing to a cold. We breakfasted at Luscar, a place
belonging to Adam Rolland, but the gout had arrested him at Edinburgh,
so we were hospitably received by his family. The weather most
unpropitious, very cold and rainy. After breakfast to Culross, where the
veteran, Sir Robert Preston,[377] showed us his curiosities. Life has
done as much for him as most people. In his ninety-second year he has
an ample fortune, a sound understanding, not the least decay of eyes,
ears, or taste; is as big as two men, and eats like three. Yet he too
experiences the _singula prædantur anni_, and has lost something since I
last saw him. If his appearance renders old age tolerable, it does not
make it desirable. But I fear when death comes we shall be unwilling for
all that to part with our bundle of sticks. Sir Robert amuses himself
with repairing the old House of Culross, built by the Lord Bruce of
Kinloss. To what use it is destined is not very evident to me. It is too
near his own comfortable mansion of Valleyfield to be useful as a
residence, if indeed it could be formed into a comfortable modern house.
But it is rather like a banqueting house. Well, he follows his own
fancy. We had a sumptuous cold dinner. Adam grieves it was not hot, so
little can war and want break a man to circumstances. We returned to
Blair-Adam in the evening, through "the wind but and the rain." For June
weather it is the most ungenial I have seen. The beauty of Culross
consists in magnificent terraces rising on the sea-beach, and commanding
the opposite shore of Lothian; the house is repairing in the style of
James the Sixth. The windows have pediments like Heriot's Work.[378]
There are some fine relics of the old Monastery, with large Saxon
arches. At Luscar I saw with pleasure the painting by Raeburn, of my old
friend Adam Rolland, Esq.,[379] who was in the external circumstances,
but not in frolic or fancy, my prototype for Paul Pleydell.[380]
_June_ 20. - We settled this morning to go to church at Lochore, that is,
at Ballingray; but when we came to the earthly paradise so called, we
were let off for there was no sermon, for which I could not in my heart
be sorry. So, after looking at Lochore, back we came to lounge and
loiter about till dinner-time. The rest of the day was good company,
good cheer, and good conversation. Yet to be idle here is not the thing,
and to be busy is impossible, so I wish myself home again in spite of
good entertainment. We leave to-night after an early dinner, and I will
get to work again.
_June_ 21, [_Edinburgh_]. - Wrote to Walter a long letter. The day
continued dropping occasionally, but Sir Adam was in high fooling, and
we had an amazing deal of laughing. We stole a look at the Kiery Craigs
between showers. In the meantime George Cheape and his son came in. We
dined at half-past three, but it was seven ere we set off, and did not
reach the house in Shandwick Place till eleven at night. Thus ended our
Club for the year 1830, its thirteenth anniversary. Its numbers were
diminished by absence and indisposition, but its spirit was unabated.
_June_ 22. - Finished proofs and some copy in the morning. Returned at
noon, and might have laboured a good day's work, but was dull, drowsy,
and indolent, and could not, at least did not, write above half a page.
It was a day lost, and indeed it is always with me the consequence of
mental indolence for a day or two, so I had a succession of eating and
dozing, which I am ashamed of, for there was nothing to hinder me but
"thick-coming fancies." Pshaw, rabbit un!
_June_ 23. - Worked well this morning, and then to Court. At two called
on Mr. Gibson, and find him disposed for an instalment. Cadell has
£10,000, and Gibson thinks £12,000 will pay 2s. 6d. I wish it could be
made three shillings, which would be £15,000.
Presided at a meeting of the Bannatyne Club. The Whigs made a strong
party to admit Kennedy of Dunure, which set aside Lord Medwyn, who had
been longer on the roll of candidates. If politics get into this Club it
will ruin the literary purpose of the meeting, and the general
good-humour with which it has gone on. I think it better to take the
thing good-humouredly, and several of them volunteered to say that
Medwyn must be the next, which will finish all _Ã l'aimable_. If it come
to party-work I will cut and run. Confound it! my eyes are closing now,
even _now_, at half-past four.
Dined with Lord Medwyn, a pleasant party. The guest of importance, Mrs.
Peter Latouche from Dublin, a fine old dame, who must have been
beautiful when young, being pleasant and comely at seventy, - saintly it
appears.
_June_ 24. - Hard work with Ballantyne's proofs and revises, but got them
accomplished. I am at the twelfth hour, but I think I shall finish this
silly book before the tenth of July.
Notwithstanding this sage resolution I did not write half a page of the
said _Demonology_ this day. I went to the Court, called on Mr. Cadell,
returned dog-tired, and trifled my time with reading the trial of
Corder. What seemed most singular was his love to talk of the young
woman he had murdered, in such a manner as to insinuate the
circumstances of his own crime, which is a kind of necessity which seems
to haunt conscience-struck men. Charles Sharpe came in at night and
supped with us.
_June_ 25. - Slept little later than I should. The proofs occupied the
morning. The Court and walk home detained me till two. When I returned,
set to work and reached page 210 of copy. There is little or nothing
else to say. Skene was with me for a few minutes. I called at Cadell's
also, who thinks a dividend of 3s. per pound will be made out.[381] This
will be one-half of the whole debts, and leave a sinking fund for the
rest about £10,000 a year "if the beast live and the branks bide
hale."[382]
_June_ 26. - Miss Kemble and her father breakfasted here, with Sir Adam
and Lady Ferguson. I like the young lady very much, respecting both her
talents and the use she has made of them. She seems merry, unaffected,
and good-humoured. She said she did not like the apathy of the Scottish
audiences, who are certain not to give applause upon credit. I went to
the Court, but soon returned; a bad cold in my head makes me cough and
sneeze like the Dragon of Wantley. The Advocates' Bill[383] is read a
third time. I hardly know whether to wish it passed or no, and am
therefore _in utrumque paratus_.
_June_ 27. - In the morning worked as usual at proofs and copy of my
infernal _Demonology_ - a task to which my poverty and not my will
consents. About twelve o'clock I went to the country to take a day's