party, at which Mr. Pringle of the Haining and his brother were present.
The day after our arrival Sir Walter asked me to drive with him. We went
in his open carriage to the Yarrow, where we got out, and Sir Walter,
leaning on my arm, walked up the side of the river, pouring forth a
continuous stream of anecdotes, traditions, and scraps of ballads. I was
in the seventh heaven of delight, and thought I had never spent such a
day. On Sunday Sir Walter did not come down to breakfast, but sent a
message to say that he had caught cold and had taken some medicine for
it the night before, which had made him ill, and would remain in bed.
When we sat at either lunch or dinner, I do not recollect which, Sir
Walter walked into the room and sat down near the table, but ate
nothing. He seemed in a dazed state, and took no notice of any one, but
after a few minutes' silence, during which his daughter Anne, who was at
table, and was watching him with some anxiety, motioned to us to take no
notice, he began in a quiet voice to tell us a story of a pauper
lunatic, who, fancying he was a rich man, and was entertaining all sorts
of high persons to the most splendid banquets, communicated to his
doctor in confidence that there was one thing that troubled him much,
and which he could not account for, and that was that all these
exquisite dishes seemed to him to taste of oatmeal porridge. Sir Walter
told this with much humour, and after a few minutes' silence began
again, and told the same story over a second time, and then again a
third time.[E] His daughter, who was watching him with increasing
anxiety, then motioned to us to rise from table, and persuaded her
father to return to his bedroom. Next day the doctor, who had been sent
for, told us that he was seriously ill, and advised that his guests
should leave at once, so that the house might be kept quiet and his
daughter devote herself entirely to the care of her father. We
accordingly left at once, and I never saw Sir Walter again. I still,
however, retain a memorial of my visit. I had fallen into indifferent
health in the previous year, and been recommended Highland air. By Sir
Walter's advice I was sent to live with a friend of his, the Reverend
Doctor Macintosh Mackay, then minister of Laggan, in the Inverness-shire
Highlands, and had passed my time learning from him the Gaelic language.
This excited in me a taste for Celtic Antiquities, and finding in Sir
Walter's Library a copy of O'Connor's _Rerum Hibernicarum Scriptores
veteres_, I sat up one night transcribing from it the Annals of
Tighernac. This transcript is still in my library. - WILLIAM F. SKENE.
"27 INVERLEITH ROW, Sept. 1890."
[E] An echo of one of his own singular illustrations (see _Letters on
Demonology_) of the occasional collision between a disturbed imagination
and the organs of sense.
[455] _Æneid_ II. 62.
MAY.
_April_ 30 _and May_ 1. - To meet Sandy Pringle to settle the day of
election on Monday. Go on with _Count Robert_ half-a-dozen leaves per
day. I am not much pleased with my handiwork. The Chancery money seems
like to be paid. This will relieve me of poor Charles, who is at present
my chief burthen. The task of pumping my brains becomes inevitably
harder when "both chain-pumps are choked below;"[456] and though this
may not be the case literally, yet the apprehension is wellnigh as bad.
_May_ 2. - The day passed as usual in dictating (too little) and riding a
good deal. I must get finished with _Count Robert_, who is progressing,
as the Transatlantics say, at a very slow pace indeed. By the bye, I
have a letter from Nathan T. Rossiter, Williamstown, New York City,
offering me a collection of poems by Byron, which are said to have been
found in Italy some years since by a friend of Mr. Rossiter. I don't see
I can at all be entitled to these, so shall write to decline them. If
Mr. Rossiter chooses to publish them in Italy or America he may, but,
published here, they must be the property of Lord Byron's executors.
_May_ 3. - Sophia arrives - with all the children looking well and
beautiful, except poor Johnnie, who looks very pale. But it is no
wonder, poor thing!
_May_ 4. - I have a letter from Lockhart, promising to be down by next
Wednesday, that is, to-day. I will consult him about Byron's Exec., and
as to these poems said to be his Lordship's. They are very probably
first copies thrown aside, or may not be genuine at all. I will be glad
to see Lockhart. My pronunciation is a good deal improved. My time
glides away ill employed, but I am afraid of the palsy. I should not
like to be pinned to my chair. But I believe even that kind of life is
more endurable than we could suppose. Your wishes are limited to your
little circle - yet the idea is terrible to a man who has been active. My
own circle in bodily matters is daily narrowing; not so in intellectual
matters, but I am perhaps a bad judge. The plough is coming to the end
of the furrow, so it is likely I shall not reach the common goal of
mortal life by a few years. I am now in my sixtieth year only, and
"Three score and ten years do sum up."[457]
_May_ 5. - A fleece of letters, which must be answered, I suppose - all
from persons, my zealous admirers, of course, and expecting a degree of
generosity, which will put to rights all their maladies, physical and
mental; and expecting that I can put to rights whatever losses have been
their lot, raise them to a desirable rank, and [stand] their protector
and patron. I must, they take it for granted, be astonished at having an
address from a stranger; on the contrary, I would be astonished if any
of these extravagant epistles were from any one who had the least title
to enter into correspondence with me. I have all the plague of answering
these teasing people.
Mr. Burn, the architect, came in, struck by the appearance of my house
from the road. He approved my architecture greatly. He tells me the
edifice for Jeanie Deans - that is, her prototype - is nigh finished, so I
must get the inscription ready.[458] Mr. Burn came to meet with Pringle
of Haining; but, alas! it is two nights since this poor young man,
driving in from his own lake, where he had been fishing, an ill-broken
horse ran away with him, and, at his own stable-door, overturned the
vehicle and fractured poor Pringle's skull; he died yesterday morning. A
sad business; so young a man, the proprietor of a good estate, and a
well-disposed youth. His politics were, I think, mistaken, being the
reverse of his father's; but that is nothing at such a time. Burn went
on to Richardson's place of Kirklands, where he is to meet the
proprietor, whom I too would wish to see, but I can hardly make it out.
Here is a world of arrangements. I think we will soon hit upon
something. My son Walter takes leave of me to-day to return to
Sheffield. At his entreaty I have agreed to put in a seton, which they
seem all to recommend. My own opinion is, this addition to my tortures
will do me no good; but I cannot hold out against my son. So, when the
present blister is well over, let them try their seton as they call it.
_May_ 6 _and_ 7. - Here is a precious job. I have a formal remonstrance
from these critical persons, Ballantyne and Cadell, against the last
volume of _Count Robert_, which is within a sheet of being finished. I
suspect their opinion will be found to coincide with that of the public;
at least it is not very different from my own. The blow is a stunning
one I suppose, for I scarcely feel it. It is singular, but it comes with
as little surprise as if I had a remedy ready. Yet God knows, I am at
sea in the dark, and the vessel leaky, I think, into the bargain. I
cannot conceive that I should have tied a knot with my tongue which my
teeth cannot untie. We will see. I am determined to write a political
pamphlet _coûte que coûte_; ay, - should it cost me my life.
I will right and left at these unlucky proof-sheets, and alter at least
what I cannot mend.
_May_ 8. - I have suffered terribly, that is the truth, rather in body
than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep without
waking. But I will fight it out if I can. It would argue too great an
attachment of consequence to my literary labours to sink under. Did I
know how to begin, I would begin this very day, although I knew I should
sink at the end. After all, this is but fear and faintness of heart,
though of another kind from that which trembleth at a loaded pistol. My
bodily strength is terribly gone; perhaps my mental too?
_May_ 9. - The weather uncommonly beautiful and I am very eager to get
on thinning woods while the peeling season lasts. We made about £200 off
wood last season, and this is a sum worth looking at.
_May_ 10. - Some repairs on the mill-dam still keep the people employed,
and we cannot get to the thinning. Yet I have been urging them for a
month. It's a great fault of Scottish servants that they cannot be
taught to time their turns.
_May_ 11. - By old practice I should be going into town to-day, the Court
sitting to-morrow. Am I happier that I am free from this charge? Perhaps
I am; that is certain, time begins to make my literary labour more
precious than usual. Very weak, scarce able to crawl about without the
pony - lifted on and off - and unable to walk half a mile save with great
pain.
_May_ 12. - Resolved to lay by _Robert of Paris_, and take it up when I
can work. Thinking on it really makes my head swim, and that is not
safe. Miss Ferrier comes out to us. This gifted personage, besides
having great talents, has conversation the least _exigeante_ of any
author, female at least, whom I have ever seen among the long list I
have encountered, - simple, full of humour, and exceedingly ready at
repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the blue
stocking.[459]
_May_ 13. - Mr., or more properly Dr., Macintosh Mackay comes out to see
me, a simple learned man, and a Highlander who weighs his own nation
justly - a modest and estimable person.
I was beat up at midnight to sign a warrant against some delinquents. I
afterwards heard that the officers were pursued by a mob from
Galashiels, with purpose of deforcing them as far as St. Boswell's
Green, but the men were lodged in Jedburgh Castle.
Reports of mobs at all the elections, which, I fear, will prove too
true. They have much to answer for who in gaiety of heart have brought a
peaceful and virtuous population to such a pass.
_May_ 14. - Rode with Lockhart and Mr. Mackay through the plantations,
and spent a pleasanter day than of late months. Story of a haunted glen
in Laggan: - A chieftain's daughter or cousin loved a man of low degree.
Her kindred discovered the intrigue and punished the lover's presumption
by binding the unhappy man, and laying him naked in one of the large
ants' nests common in a Highland forest. He died in agony of course, and
his mistress became distracted, roamed wildly in the glen till she died,
and her phantom, finding no repose, haunted it after her death to such a
degree that the people shunned the road by day as well as night. Mrs.
Grant of Laggan tells the story, with the addition, that her husband,
then minister of Laggan, fixed a religious meeting in the place, and, by
the exercise of public worship there, overcame the popular terror of the
Red Woman. Dr. Mackay seems to think that she was rather banished by a
branch of the Parliamentary road running up the glen than by the prayers
of his predecessor. Dr. Mackay, it being Sunday, favoured us with an
excellent discourse on the Socinian controversy, which I wish my friend
Mr. Laidlaw had heard.
_May_ 15. - Dr. M. left us early this morning; and I rode and studied as
usual, working at the _Tales of My Grandfather_. Our good and learned
Doctor wishes to go down the Tweed to Berwick. It is a laudable
curiosity, and I hope will be agreeably satisfied.
_May_ 16 _and_ 17. - I wrote and rode as usual, and had the pleasure of
Miss Ferrier's company in my family hours, which was a great
satisfaction; she has certainly less affectation than any female I have
known that has stood so high - Joanna Baillie hardly excepted. By the
way, she [Mrs. Baillie] has entered on the Socinian controversy, for
which I am very sorry; she has published a number of texts on which she
conceives the controversy to rest, but it escapes her that she can only
quote them through a translation. I am sorry this gifted woman is hardly
doing herself justice, and doing what is not required at her hands. Mr.
Laidlaw of course thinks it the finest thing in the world.[460]
_May_ 18. - Went to Jedburgh to the election, greatly against the wishes
of my daughters. The mob were exceedingly vociferous and brutish, as
they usually are now-a-days. But the Sheriff had two troops of dragoons
at Ancrum Bridge, and all went off quietly. The populace gathered in
formidable numbers - a thousand from Hawick alone; they were sad
blackguards, and the day passed with much clamour and no mischief. Henry
Scott was re-elected - for the last time, I suppose. _Troja fuit._
I left the burgh in the midst of abuse and the gentle hint of "Burke Sir
Walter." Much obliged to the brave lads of Jeddart. Upwards of forty
freeholders voted for Henry Scott, and only fourteen for the puppy that
opposed him. Even of this party he gained far the greater number by the
very awkward coalition with Sir William Scott of Ancrum. I came home at
seven at night.
_May_ 20. - This is the Selkirk election, which I supposed would be as
tumultuous as the Jedburgh one, but the soutars of Selkirk had got a new
light, and saw in the proposed Reform Bill nothing but a mode of
disfranchising their ancient burgh. Although the crowd was great, yet
there was a sufficient body of special constables, hearty in their
useful office, and the election passed as quietly as I ever witnessed
one. I came home before dinner, very quiet. I am afraid there is
something serious in Galashiels; Jeffrey is fairly funked about it, and
has written letters to the authorities of Roxburghshire and Selkirkshire
to caution us against making the precognitions public, which looks ill.
Yet I think he would have made arrests when the soldiers were in the
country. The time at which I settled at Abbotsford, Whitsunday 1811, I
broke up a conspiracy of the weavers. It will look like sympathising
with any renewal if another takes place just now. Incendiary letters
have been sent, and the householders are in a general state of alarm.
The men at Jedburgh Castle are said to be disposed to make a clean
breast; if so, we shall soon know more of the matter. Lord William
Graham has been nearly murdered at Dumbarton. Why should he not have
brought down 50 or 100 lads with the kilts, each with a good kent[461]
in his hand fit to call the soul out of the body of these weavers? They
would have kept order, I warrant you.
_May_ 21. - Little more than my usual work and my usual exercise. I rode
out through the plantations and saw the woodmen getting down what was to
be felled. It seems there will be as much for sale as last year of bark:
I think about £40 worth. A very nice additional pond to the sawmill has
been executed. As for my _Tales_, they go on well, and are amusing to
myself at least. The History of France is very entertaining.
_May_ 22. - I have a letter from my friend John Thomson of Duddingston. I
had transmitted him an order for the Duke of Buccleuch for his best
picture, at his best price, leaving the choice of the subject and
everything else to himself. He expresses the wish to do, at an ordinary
price, a picture of common size. The declining to put himself forward
will, I fear, be thought like shrinking from his own reputation, which
nobody has less need to do. The Duke may wish a large picture for a
large price for furnishing a large apartment, and the artist should not
shrink from it. I have written him my opinion. The feeling is no doubt
an amiable, though a false one. He is modest in proportion to his
talents. But what brother of the finer arts ever approached [excellence]
so as to please himself?
_May_ 23, 24, _and_ 25. - Worked and exercised regularly. I do not feel
that I care twopence about the change of diet as to taste, but I feel my
strength much decayed. On horseback my spine feels remarkably sore, and
I am tired with a few miles' ride. We expect Walter coming down for the
Fife election.
* * * * *
[From May 25th to October 9th there are no dates in the Journal,
but the entry beginning "I have been very ill" must have been made
about the middle of September. "In the family circle," says Mr.
Lockhart, "he seldom spoke of his illness at all, and when he did,
it was always in a hopeful strain." "In private, to Laidlaw and
myself, his language corresponded exactly with the tone of the
Diary. He expressed his belief that the chances of recovery were
few - very few - but always added that he considered it his duty to
exert what faculties remained to him for the sake of his creditors
to the very last. - 'I am very anxious,' he repeatedly said to me,
'to be done one way or other with this _Count Robert_, and a little
story about the Castle Dangerous - which also I had long in my
head - but after that I will attempt nothing more, at least not
until I have finished all the notes for the Novels,'" etc.
On the 18th July he set out in company with Mr. Lockhart to visit
Douglas Castle, St. Bride's Church and its neighbourhood, for the
purpose of verifying the scenery of _Castle Dangerous_, then partly
printed, returning on the 20th.
He finished that book and _Count Robert_ before the end of August.
In September, Mr. Lockhart, then staying at Chiefswood, and
proposing to make a run into Lanarkshire for a day or two,
mentioned overnight at Abbotsford that he intended to take his
second son, then a boy of five or six years of age, and Sir
Walter's namesake, with him on the stage-coach.
Next morning the following affectionate billet was put into his
hands: -
To J.G. LOCKHART, Esq., Chiefswood.
"DEAR DON, or Doctor Giovanni,
"Can you really be thinking of taking Wa-Wa by the coach - and I
think you said outside? Think of Johnny, and be careful of this
little man. Are you _par hazard_ something in the state of the poor
capitaine des dragons that comes in singing: -
'Comment? Parbleu! Qu'en pensez vous,
Bon gentilhomme, et pas un sous'?
"If so, remember 'Richard's himself again,' and make free use of
the enclosed cheque on Cadell for £50. He will give you the ready
as you pass through, and you can pay when I ask.
"Put horses to your carriage, and go hidalgo fashion. We shall all
have good days yet.
'And those sad days you deign to spend
With me I shall requite them all;
Sir Eustace for his friends shall send
And thank their love in Grayling Hall!'[462]
"W.S."[463]
On the 15th September he tells the Duke of Buccleuch, "I am going
to try whether the air of Naples will make an old fellow of sixty
young again."
On the 17th the old splendour of the house was revived. Col.
Glencairn Burns, son of the poet, then in Scotland, came
"To stir with joy the towers of Abbotsford."
The neighbours were assembled, and, having his son to help him, Sir
Walter did the honours of the table once more as of yore.
On the 19th the poet Wordsworth arrived, and left on the 22d.
On the 20th, Mrs. Lockhart set out for London to prepare for her
father's reception there, and on the 23d Sir Walter left Abbotsford
for London, where he arrived on the 28th.[464]]
FOOTNOTES:
[456] Falconer's _Shipwreck_, p. 162 - "The Storm." 12mo ed. London,
Albion Press, 1810.
[457] Scotch Metrical Version of the 90th Psalm.
[458] On the 18th October Sir Walter sent Mr. Burn the following
inscription for the monument he had commissioned, and which now stands
in the churchyard of Irongray: -
"This stone was erected by the Author of Waverley to the memory of Helen
Walker, who died in the year of God 1791. This humble individual
practised in real life the virtues with which fiction has invested the
imaginary character of Jeanie Deans; refusing the slightest departure
from veracity, even to save the life of a sister, she nevertheless
showed her kindness and fortitude, in rescuing her from the severity of
the law, at the expense of personal exertions, which the time rendered
as difficult as the motive was laudable. Respect the grave of Poverty
when combined with the love of Truth and dear affection."
It is well known that on the publication of _Old Mortality_ many people
were offended by what was considered a caricature of the Covenanters,
and that Dr. M'Crie, the biographer of Knox, wrote a series of papers in
the _Edinburgh Christian Instructor_, which Scott affected to despise,
and said he would not read. He not only was obliged to read the
articles, but found it necessary to inspire or write an elaborate
defence of the truth of his own picture of the Covenanters in the Number
for January 1817 of the _Quarterly Review_.
In June 1818, however, he made ample amends, and won the hearts of all
classes of his countrymen by his beautiful pictures of national
character in the _Heart of Midlothian_.
It is worth noticing also that ten years later, viz., in December 1828,
his friend Richardson having written that in the _Tales of a
Grandfather_ "You have paid a debt which you owed to the manes of the
Covenanters for the flattering picture which you drew of Claverhouse in
_Old Mortality_. His character is inconceivable to me: the atrocity of
his murder of those peasants, as undauntedly devoted to their own good
cause as himself to his, his personal (almost hangman-like)
superintendence of their executions, are wholly irreconcilable with a
chivalrous spirit, which, however scornful of the lowly, could never, in
my mind, be cruel," Scott, in reply, gave his matured opinion in the
following words: -
"As to Covenanters and Malignants, they were both a set of cruel and
bloody bigots, and had, notwithstanding, those virtues with which
bigotry is sometimes allied. Their characters were of a kind much more
picturesque than beautiful; neither had the least idea either of
toleration or humanity, so that it happens that, so far as they can be
distinguished from each other, one is tempted to hate most the party
which chances to be uppermost for the time."
[459] See Miss Ferrier's account of this visit prefixed to Mr. Bentley's
choice edition of her works, 6 vols. cr. 8vo, London, 1881.
[460] Mr. Carruthers remarks in his Abbotsford _Notanda_: - "Joanna
Baillie published a thin volume of selections from the New Testament
'regarding the nature and dignity of Jesus Christ.' The tendency of the
work was Socinian, or at least Arian, and Scott was indignant that his
friend should have meddled with such a subject. 'What had she to do with
questions of that sort?' He refused to add the book to his library and
gave it to Laidlaw." - p. 179.
[461] A long staff.
[462] See Crabbe's _Sir Eustace Grey_.
[463] _Life_, vol. x. pp. 100-1.
[464] See _Life_, vol. x. pp. 76-106.
OCTOBER.
INTERVAL.
I have been very ill, and if not quite unable to write, I have been
unfit to do so. I have wrought, however, at two Waverley things, but not
well, and, what is worse, past mending. A total prostration of bodily
strength is my chief complaint. I cannot walk half a mile. There is,
besides, some mental confusion, with the extent of which I am not
perhaps fully acquainted. I am perhaps setting. I am myself inclined to
think so, and, like a day that has been admired as a fine one, the light
of it sets down amid mists and storms. I neither regret nor fear the
approach of death if it is coming. I would compound for a little pain
instead of this heartless muddiness of mind which renders me incapable
of anything rational. The expense of my journey will be something
considerable, which I can provide against by borrowing £500 from Mr.
Gibson. To Mr. Cadell I owe already, with the cancels on these
apoplectic books, about £200, and must run it up to £500 more at least;
yet this heavy burthen would be easily borne if I were to be the Walter
Scott I once was; but the change is great. This would be nothing,
providing that I could count on these two books having a sale equal to
their predecessors; but as they do not deserve the same countenance,
they will not and cannot have such a share of favour, and I have only to
hope that they will not involve the _Waverley_, which are now selling
30,000 volumes a month, in their displeasure. Something of a Journal and
the _Reliquiae Trotcosienses_ will probably be moving articles, and I
have in short no fears in pecuniary matters. The ruin which I fear
involves that of my King and country. Well says Colin Mackenzie: -
"Shall this desolation strike thy towers alone?
No, fair Ellandonan! such ruin 'twill bring,
That the storm shall have power to unsettle the throne,
And thy fate shall be mixed with the fate of thy King."[465]
I fear that the great part of the memorialists are bartering away the
dignity of their rank by seeking to advance themselves by a job, which
is a melancholy sight. The ties between democrat and aristocrat are
sullen discontent with each other. The former are regarded as a
house-dog which has manifested incipient signs of canine madness, and is
not to be trusted. Walter came down to-day to join our party.
[_September_ 20?] - Yesterday, Wordsworth, his son [nephew[466]] and
daughter, came to see us, and we went up to Yarrow. The eldest son of
Lord Ravensworth also came to see us, with his accomplished lady. We had
a pleasant party, and to-day were left by the Liddells, _manent_ the
three Wordsworths, _cum cæteris_, a German or Hungarian Count Erdödy, or
some such name.
We arrived in London [September 28,] after a long and painful journey,
the weakness of my limbs palpably increasing, and the physic prescribed
making me weaker every day. Lockhart, poor fellow, is as attentive as
possible, and I have, thank God, no pain whatever; could the end be as
easy it would be too happy. I fancy the instances of Euthanasia are not
very uncommon. Instances there certainly are among the learned and the
unlearned - Dr.
Black, Tom Purdie. I should wish, if it please God, to sleep off in
such a quiet way; but we must take what Fate sends. I have not warm
hopes of being myself again.
Wordsworth and his daughter, a fine girl, were with us on the last day.
I tried to write in her diary, and made an ill-favoured botch - no help
for it. "Stitches will wear, and ill ones will out," as the tailor
says.[467]
[_October_ 8, London.] - The King has located me on board the _Barham_,
with my suite, consisting of my eldest son, youngest daughter, and
perhaps my daughter-in-law, which, with poor Charles, will make a goodly
tail. I fancy the head of this tail cuts a poor figure, scarce able to
stir about.
The town is in a foam with politics. The report is that the Lords will
throw out the Bill, and now, morning of 8th October, I learn it is
quoited downstairs like a shovel-board shilling, with a plague to it, as
the most uncalled-for attack upon a free constitution, under which men
lived happily, which ever was ventured in my day. Well, it would have
been pleasing to have had some share in so great a victory, yet even now
I am glad I have been quiet. I believe I should only have made a bad
figure. Well, I will have time enough to think of all this.
_October_ 9. - The report to-day is that the Chancellor[468] will unite
with the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel to bring in a Bill of
his own concocting, modified to the taste of the other two, with which
some think they will be satisfied. This is not very unlikely, for Lord
Brougham has been displeased with not having been admitted to Lord John
Russell's task of bill-drawing. He is a man of unbounded ambition, as
well as unbounded talent and [uncertain] temper. There have been hosts
of people here, particularly the Duke of Buccleuch, to ask me to the
christening of his son and heir, when the King stands godfather. I am
asked as an ally and friend of the family, which makes the compliment
greater. Singular that I should have stood godfather to this Duke
himself, representing some great man.
_October_ 10. - Yesterday we dined alone, so I had an opportunity of
speaking seriously to John; but I fear procrastination. It is the cry of
Friar Bacon's Brazen head, _time is - time was_; but the time may soon
come - _time shall be no more_. The Whigs are not very bold, not much
above a hundred met to support Lord Grey to the last. Their resolutions
are moderate, probably because they could not have carried stronger. I
went to breakfast at Sir Robert Henry Inglis', and coming home about
twelve found the mob rising in the Regent's Park, and roaring for Reform
as rationally as a party of Angusshire cattle would have done.
Sophia seemed to act as the jolly host in the play. "These are my
windows," and, shutting the shutters, "let them batter - I care not
serving the good Duke of Norfolk." After a time they passed out of our
sight, hurrying doubtless to seek a more active scene of reformation. As
the night closed, the citizens who had hitherto contented themselves
with shouting, became more active, and when it grew dark set forth to
make work for the glaziers.
_October_ 11, _Tuesday_. - We set out in the morning to breakfast with
Lady Gifford. We passed several glorious specimens of the last night's
feats of the reformers. The Duke of Newcastle's and Lord Dudley's houses
were sufficiently broken. The maidens, however, had resisted, and from
the top of the house with coals, which had greatly embarrassed the
assembled mob. Surely if the people are determined on using a right so
questionable, and the Government resolved to consider it as too sacred
to be resisted, some modes of resistance might be resorted to of a
character more ludicrous than firearms, - coals, for example, scalding
oil, boiling water, or some other mode of defence against a sudden
attack. We breakfasted with a very pleasant party at Lady Gifford's. I
was particularly happy to meet Lord Sidmouth; at seventy-five, he tells
me, as much in health and spirits as at sixty. I also met Captain Basil
Hall, to whom I owe so much for promoting my retreat in so easy a
manner. I found my appointment to the _Barham_ had been pointed out by
Captain Henry Duncan, R.N., as being a measure which would be
particularly agreeable to the officers of the service. This is too high
a compliment. In returning I called to see the repairs at Lambeth, which
are proceeding under the able direction of Blore, who met me there. They
are in the best Gothic taste, and executed at the expense of a large
sum, to be secured by way of mortgage, payable in fifty years; each
incumbent within the time paying a proportion of about £4000 a year. I
was pleased to see this splendour of church architecture returning
again.
Lord Mahon, a very amiable as well as a clever young man, comes to
dinner with Mr. Croker; Lady Louisa Stuart in the afternoon, or, more
properly, at night.
_October_ 12. - Misty morning - looks like a yellow fog, which is the
curse of London. I would hardly take my share of it for a share of its
wealth and its curiosity - a vile double-distilled fog of the most
intolerable kind. Children scarce stirring yet, but baby and the Macaw
beginning their Macaw notes. Among other feats of the mob on Monday, a
gentleman who saw the onslaught told me two men got on Lord
Londonderry's carriage and struck him; the chief constable came to the
rescue and belaboured the rascals, who ran and roared. I should have
liked to have seen the onslaught - Dry beating, and plenty of it, is a
great operator of a reform among these gentry. At the same time Lord
Londonderry is a brain-sick man, very unlike his brother. He
horsewhipped a sentinel under arms at Vienna for obeying his _consigne_,
which was madness. On the other side all seems to be prepared. Heavy
bodies of the police are stationed in all the squares and places
supporting each other regularly. The men themselves say that their
numbers amount to 3000, and that they are supported by troops in still
greater numbers, so that the Conservative force is sufficiently strong.
Four o'clock - a letter from the Duke saying the party is put off by
command of the King, and probably the day will be put off until the
Duke's return from Scotland, so our hopes of seeing the fine ceremony
are all ended.
_October_ 13. - _Nocte pluit tota_ - an excellent recipe for a mob, so
they have been quiet accordingly, as we are informed. Two or three other
wet nights would do much to weary them out with inactivity. Milman, whom
I remember a fine gentlemanlike young man, dined here yesterday. He says
the fires have never ceased in his country, but that the oppressions and
sufferings occasioned by the poor's rates are very great, and there is
no persuading the English farmer that an amended system is comfortable
both for rich and poor. The plan of ministers is to keep their places
maugre Peers and Commons both, while they have the countenance of the
crown; but if a Prince shelters, by authority of the prerogative,
ministers against the will of the other authority of the state, does he
not quit the defence which supposes he can do no wrong? This doctrine
would make a curious change of parties. Will they attempt to legitimize
the Fitz Clarences? God forbid! Yet it may end in that, - it would be
Paris all over. The family is said to have popular qualities. Then what
would be the remedy? Marry! seize on the person of the Princess
Victoria, carrying her north and setting up the banner of England with
the Duke of W. as dictator! Well, I am too old to fight, and therefore
should keep the windy side of the law; besides, I shall be buried before
times come to a decision. In the meantime the King dare not go to stand
godfather to the son of one of his most powerful peers, a party of his
own making, lest his loving subjects pull the house about the ears of
his noble host and the company invited to meet him. Their loyalty has a
pleasant way of displaying itself. I will go to Westminster after
breakfast and see what people are saying, and whether the _Barham_ is
likely to sail, or whether its course is not altered to the coast of the
Low Countries instead of the Mediterranean.
_October_ 14. - Tried to walk to Lady Louisa Stuart's, but took a little
vertigo and came back. Much disturbed by a letter from Walter. He is
like to be sent on an obnoxious service with very inadequate force,
little prospect of thanks if he does his duty, and much of blame if he
is unable to accomplish it. I have little doubt he will ware his
mother's calf-skin on them.
The manufacturing districts are in great danger. London seems pretty
secure. Sent off the revise of introduction to Mr. Cadell.[469]
_October_ 16. - A letter from Walter with better news. He has been at
hard-heads with the rogues and come off with advantage; in short,
practised with success the art of drawing two souls out of one
weaver.[470] All seems quiet now, and I suppose the Major will get his
leave as proposed. Two ladies - [one] Byron's Mary Chaworth - have been
frightened to death while the mob tore the dying creatures from their
beds and proposed to throw them into the flames, drank the wine,
destroyed the furniture, and committed other excesses of a
jacquerie.[471] They have been put down, however, by a strong force of
yeomanry and regulars. Walter says the soldiers fired over the people's
heads, whereas if they had levelled low, the bullets must have told more
among the multitude. I cannot approve of this, for in such cases
severity is ultimate mercy.[472] However, if they have made a
sufficient impression to be striking - why, enough is as good as a feast.
There is a strange story about town of ghost-seeing vouched by Lord
Prudhoe, a near relation of the Duke of Northumberland, and whom I know
as an honourable man. A colonel described as a cool-headed sensible man
of worth and honour, Palgrave, who dined with us yesterday, told us
twice over the story as vouched by Lord Prudhoe, and Lockhart gave us
Colonel Felix's edition, which coincided exactly. I will endeavour to
extract the essence of both. While at Grand Cairo they were attracted by
the report of a physician who could do the most singular magical feats,
and was in the habit not only of relieving the living, but calling up
the dead. This sage was the member of a tribe in the interior part of
Africa. They were some time (two years) in finding him out, for he by no
means pressed himself on the curious, nor did he on the other hand avoid
them; but when he came to Grand Cairo readily agreed to gratify them by
a sight of his wonders. The scenes exhibited were not visible to the
operator himself, nor to the person for whose satisfaction they were
called up, but, as in the case of Dr. Dee and other adepts, by means of
a viewer, an ignorant Nubian boy, whom, to prevent imposition, the
English gentlemen selected for the purpose, and, as they thought,
without any risk of imposture by confederacy betwixt him and the
physician. The process was as follows: - A black square was drawn in the
palm of the boy's hand, or rather a kind of pentacle with an Arabic
character inscribed at each angle. The figures evoked were seen through
this space as if the substance of the hand had been removed. Magic
rites, and particularly perfumes, were liberally resorted to. After
some fumigation the magician declared that they could not proceed until
the seven flags should become visible. The boy declared he saw nothing,
then said he saw a flag, then two; often hesitated at the number for a
certain time, and on several occasions the spell did not work and the
operation went no further, but in general the boy saw the seven flags
through the aperture in his hand. The magician then said they must call
the Sultan, and the boy said he saw a splendid tent fixed, surrounded by
immense hosts, Eblis no doubt, and his angels. The person evoked was
then named, and appeared accordingly. The only indispensable requisite
was that he was named speedily, for the Sultan did not like to be kept
waiting. Accordingly, William Shakespeare being named, the boy declared
that he saw a Frank in a dress which he described as that of the reign
of Elizabeth or her successor, having a singular countenance, a high
forehead, and a very little beard. Another time a brother of the Colonel
was named. The boy said he saw a Frank in his uniform dress and a black
groom behind him leading a superb horse. The dress was a red jacket and
white pantaloons; and the principal figure turning round, the boy
announced that he wanted his arm, as was the case with Felix's brother.
The ceremony was repeated fourteen times; successfully in twelve
instances, and in two it failed from non-appearance of the seven banners
in the first instance. The apparent frankness of the operator was not
the least surprising part of the affair. He made no mystery, said he