The Journal of Sir Walter Scott by Walter Scott

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FOOTNOTES:

[45] "The Duke was then making a progress in the North of England, to
which additional importance was given by the uncertain state of
political arrangements; the chance of Lord Goderich's being able to
maintain himself as Canning's successor seeming very precarious, and the
opinion that his Grace must soon be called to a higher station than that
of Commander of the Forces, which he had accepted under the new Premier,
gaining ground every day. Sir Walter, who felt for the great Captain the
pure and exalted devotion that might have been expected from some
honoured soldier of his banners, accepted this invitation, and witnessed
a scene of enthusiasm with which its principal object could hardly have
been more gratified than he was."--_Life_, vol. ix. pp. 156-7.

[46] See _Correspondence of Princess Lieven and Earl Grey_ for Lord
Grey's opinion, vol. i. p. 60.

[47] Dr. William Van Mildert had been appointed to the See of Durham in
1826 on the death of Dr. Shute Barrington. He died in 1836.

[48] Admiral Sir John Beresford had some few years before this commanded
on the Leith Station--when Sir Walter and he saw a great deal of each
other--"and merry men were they."--J.G.L.

[49] An eye-witness writes:--"The manner in which Bishop Van Mildert
proceeded on this occasion will never be forgotten by those who know how
to appreciate scholarship without pedantry, and dignity without
ostentation. Sir Walter had been observed throughout the day with
extraordinary interest--I should say enthusiasm. The Bishop gave his
health with peculiar felicity, remarking that he could reflect upon the
labours of a long literary life, with the consciousness that everything
he had written tended to the practice of virtue, and to the improvement
of the human race."--Hon. Henry Liddell. _Life_, vol. ix. p. 160.

[50] _Histoire de la guerre de la Peninsule sous Napoleon_, etc. Publiee
par Madame la Comtesse Foy. Paris, 4 vols. 8vo, 1827. See _Croker_, vol.
i. p. 352.

[51] This story is told also in Lord Stanhope's _Conversations with the
Duke of Wellington_. 8vo, London, 1888, p. 54.

[52] The present generation are apt to forget the enormous sums spent in
Parliamentary elections; _e.g._, Mme. de Lieven tells Earl Grey (_Cor._
ii. p. 215) that Lord Ravensworth's neighbour, the Duke of
Northumberland, will subscribe L100,000 towards the election of 1831.

[53] Hugh, third Duke of Northumberland.

[54] Dr. Bethell, who had been tutor to the Duke of Northumberland, held
at this time the See of Gloucester.--J.G.L.

[55] Launcelot Brown, 1715-1782.

[56] A quarto volume, containing 39 etchings (privately printed in
1823), still preserved at Abbotsford.

[57] Mr. Archdeacon Singleton.--J.G.L.

[58] Stanhope's _Notes_, p. 24; and _Croker_, vol. ii. p. 233.

[59] From Stratford-on-Avon.

[60] For the utilisation of this story, see _Fair Maid of Perth_,
published in the following year.

[61] See M.G. Lewis's _Journal of a West Indian Proprietor_. 8vo, Lond.,
1834, p. 47; and Introduction to _Fair Maid of Perth_, p. 16.

[62] On the 13th of October Sir Walter had received a letter from "one
who had in former happy days been no stranger," and on turning to the
signature he found to his astonishment that it was from Lady Jane
Stuart, with whom he had had no communication since the memorable visit
he had made to Invermay in the autumn of 1796. The letter was simply a
formal request on behalf of a friend for permission to print some
ballads in Scott's handwriting which were in an album that had
apparently belonged to her daughter, yet it stirred his nature to its
depths. The substance of his reply may be gathered from the second
letter, which he had just read before making this sad entry in his
Journal.--Lady Jane tells him that she would convey to him the
Manuscript Book

--,"as a _secret_ and _sacred_ Treasure, could I but know that you
would take it as I give it without a drawback or misconstruction of
my intentions;"

and she adds--

"Were I to lay open my heart (of which you know little indeed) you
would find how it has and ever shall be warm towards you. My age
[she was then seventy-four] encourages me, and I have longed to tell
you. Not the mother who bore you followed you more anxiously (though
secretly) with her blessing than I! Age has tales to tell and
sorrows to unfold."

As is seen by his Journal Sir Walter resumed his personal intercourse
with his venerable friend on November 6th and continued it until her
death, which took place in the winter of 1829.--_Ante_, vol. i. p. 404,
and _Life_, vol. i. pp. 329-336.

[63] Kirn, the feast at the end of the harvest in Scotland.

[64] The correspondence of Robert, second Marquis of Londonderry, was
edited by his brother in 1850, but there was no memoir published until
Alison wrote the _Lives of Lord Castlereagh and Sir Charles Stewart,
Second and Third Marquesses of Londonderry_. 3 vols. 8vo, Edinburgh,
1861.

NOVEMBER

_November_ 1.--I waked in the night and lay two hours in feverish
meditation. This is a tribute to natural feeling. But the air of a fine
frosty morning gave me some elasticity of spirit. It is strange that
about a week ago I was more dispirited for nothing at all than I am now
for perplexities which set at defiance my conjectures concerning their
issue. I suppose that I, the Chronicler of the Canongate, will have to
take up my residence in the Sanctuary[65] for a week or so, unless I
prefer the more airy residence of the Calton Jail, or a trip to the Isle
of Man. These furnish a pleasing choice of expedients. It is to no
purpose being angry at Ehud or Ahab, or whatever name he delights in. He
is seeking his own, and thinks by these harsh measures to render his
road to it more speedy. And now I will trouble myself no more about the
matter than I can possibly help, which will be quite enough after all.
Perhaps something may turn up better for me than I now look for. Sir
Adam Ferguson left Bowhill this morning for Dumfriesshire. I returned to
Abbotsford to Anne, and told her this unpleasant news. She stood it
remarkably well, poor body.

_November_ 2.--I was a little bilious to-night--no wonder. Had sundry
letters without any power of giving my mind to answer them--one about
Gourgaud with his nonsense. I shall not trouble my head more on that
score. Well, it is a hard knock on the elbow; I knew I had a life of
labour before me, but I was resolved to work steadily; now they have
treated me like a recusant turnspit, and put in a red-hot cinder into
the wheel alongst with [me]. But of what use is philosophy--and I have
always pretended to a little of a practical character--if it cannot
teach us to do or suffer? The day is glorious, yet I have little will to
enjoy it, but sit here ruminating upon the difference and comparative
merits of the Isle of Man and of the Abbey. Small choice betwixt them.
Were a twelvemonth over, I should perhaps smile at what makes me now
very serious.

Smile!--No, that can never be. My present feelings cannot be recollected
with cheerfulness; but I may drop a tear of gratitude. I have finished
my _Tales_[66] and have now nothing literary in hand. It would be an
evil time to begin anything.

_November_ 3.--Slept ill, and lay one hour longer than usual in the
morning. I gained an hour's quiet by it, that is much. I feel a little
shaken at the result of to-day's post. Bad it must be, whatsoever be the
alternative. I am not able to go out, my poor workers wonder that I pass
them without a word. I can imagine no alternative but either retreat to
the Sanctuary or to the Isle of Man. Both shocking enough. But in
Edinburgh I am always near the scene of action, free from uncertainty
and near my poor daughter; so I think I will prefer it, and thus I rest
in unrest. But I will not let this unman me. Our hope, heavenly and
earthly, is poorly anchored, if the cable parts upon the strain. I
believe in God who can change evil into good; and I am confident that
what befalls us is always ultimately for the best. I have a letter from
Mr. Gibson, purporting the opinion of the trustees and committee of
creditors, that I should come to town, and interesting themselves warmly
in the matter. They have intimated that they will pay Mr. Abud a
composition of six shillings per pound on his debt. This is a handsome
offer, but I understand he is determined to have his pound of flesh. If
I can prevent it, he shall not take a shilling by his hard-hearted
conduct.

_November_ 4.--Put my papers in some order, and prepared for my journey.
It is in the style of the Emperors of Abyssinia who proclaim--Cut down
the Kantuffa in the four quarters of the world,--for I know not where I
am going. Yet, were it not for poor Anne's doleful looks, I would feel
firm as a piece of granite. Even the poor dogs seem to fawn on me with
anxious meaning, as if there were something going on they could not
comprehend. They probably notice the packing of the clothes, and other
symptoms of a journey.

Set off at twelve, firmly resolved in body and in mind. Dined at Fushie
Bridge. Ah! good Mrs. Wilson, you know not you are like to lose an old
customer.[67]

But when I arrived in Edinburgh at my faithful friend, Mr. Gibson's,
lo! the scene had again changed, and a new hare is started.[68]

The trustees were clearly of opinion that the matter should be probed to
the very bottom; so Cadell sets off to-morrow in quest of Robinson,
whose haunts he knows. There was much talk concerning what should be
done, how to protect my honour's person, and to postpone commencing a
defence which must make Ahab desperate, before we can ascertain that the
grounds are really tenable. This much I think I can see, that the
trustees will rather pay the debt than break off the trust and go into a
sequestration. They are clearly right for themselves, and I believe for
me also. Whether it is in human possibility that I can clear off these
obligations or not, is very doubtful. But I would rather have it written
on my monument that I died at the desk than live under the recollection
of having neglected it. My conscience is free and happy, and would be so
if I were to be lodged in the Calton Jail. Were I shirking exertion I
should lose heart, under a sense of general contempt, and so die like a
poisoned rat in a hole.

Dined with Gibson and John Home. His wife is a pretty lady-like woman.
Slept there at night.

_November_ 6.--I took possession of No. 6 Shandwick Place, Mrs. Jobson's
house. Mr. Cadell had taken it for me; terms L100 for four months--cheap
enough, as it is a capital house. I offered L5 for immediate entrance,
as I do not like to fly back to Abbotsford. So here we are established,
_i.e._ John Nicolson[69] and I, with good fires and all snug.

I waited on L.J.S.; an affecting meeting.[70]

Sir William Forbes came in before dinner to me, high-spirited noble
fellow as ever, and true to his friend. Agrees with my feelings to a
comma. He thinks Cadell's account must turn up trumps, and is for going
the vole.[71]

_November_ 7.--Began to settle myself this morning, after the hurry of
mind, and even of body, which I have lately undergone. Commenced a
review--that is, an essay, on Ornamental Gardening for the _Quarterly_.
But I stuck fast for want of books. As I did not wish to leave the mind
leisure to recoil on itself, I immediately began the Second Series of
the _Chronicles of Canongate_, the First having been well approved. I
went to make another visit, and fairly softened myself like an old fool,
with recalling old stories till I was fit for nothing but shedding
tears and repeating verses for the whole night. This is sad work. The
very grave gives up its dead, and time rolls back thirty years to add to
my perplexities. I don't care. I begin to grow over-hardened, and, like
a stag turning at bay, my naturally good temper grows fierce and
dangerous. Yet what a romance to tell, and told I fear it will one day
be. And then my three years of dreaming and my two years of wakening
will be chronicled doubtless. But the dead will feel no pain.

_November_ 8.--_Domum mansi, lanam feci_. I may borrow the old
sepulchral motto of the Roman matron. I stayed at home, and began the
third volume of _Chronicles_, or rather the first volume of the Second
Series.[72] This I pursued with little intermission from morning till
night, yet only finished nine pages. Like the machinery of a
steam-engine, the imagination does not work freely when first set upon a
new task.

_November_ 9.--Finished my task after breakfast, at least before twelve.
Then went to College to hear this most amusing good matter of the Essay
read.[73] _Imprimis_ occurs a dispute whether the magistrates, as
patrons of the University, should march in procession before the Royal
visitors; and it was proposed on our side that the Provost, who is
undoubtedly the first man in his own city, should go in attendance on
the Principal, with the Chairman of the Commission on the Principal's
right hand, and the whole Commission following, taking _pas_ of the
other Magistrates as well as of the Senatus Academicus--or whether we
had not better waive all question of precedence, and let the three
bodies find their way separately as they best could. This last method
was just adopted when we learned that the question was not in what order
of procession we should reach the place of exhibition, but whether we
were to get there at all, which was presently after reported as an
impossibility. The lads of the College had so effectually taken
possession of the class-room where the essay was to be read, that,
neither learning or law, neither Magistrates nor Magisters, neither
visitors nor visited, could make way to the scene of action. So we
grandees were obliged to adjourn the sederunt till Saturday the
17th--and so ended the collie-shangie.

_November_ 10.--Wrote out my task and little more. At twelve o'clock I
went to poor Lady J.S. to talk over old stories. I am not clear that it
is right or healthful indulgence to be ripping up old sorrows, but it
seems to give her deep-seated sorrow words, and that is a mental
bloodletting. To me these things are now matter of calm and solemn
recollection, never to be forgotten, yet scarce to be remembered with
pain.

We go out to Saint Catherine's[74] to-day. I am glad of it, for I would
not have these recollections haunt me, and society will put them out of
my head.

_November_ 11.--Sir William Rae read us prayers. Sauntered about the
doors, and talked of old cavalry stories. Then drove to Melville, and
saw the Lord and Lady, and family. I think I never saw anything more
beautiful than the ridge of Carnethy (Pentland) against a clear frosty
sky, with its peaks and varied slopes. The hills glowed like purple
amethysts, the sky glowed topaz and vermilion colours. I never saw a
finer screen than Pentland, considering that it is neither rocky nor
highly elevated.

_November_ 12.--I cannot say I lost a minute's sleep on account of what
the day might bring forth; though it was that on which we must settle
with Abud in his Jewish demand, or stand to the consequences. I
breakfasted with an excellent appetite, laughed in real genuine easy
fun, and went to Edinburgh, resolved to do what should best become me.
When I came home I found Walter, poor fellow, who had come down on the
spur, having heard from John Lockhart how things stand. Gibson having
taken out a suspension makes us all safe for the present. So we dined
merrily. He has good hopes of his Majesty, and I must support his
interest as well as I can. Wrote letters to Lady Shelley, John L., and
one or two chance correspondents. One was singular. A gentleman, writing
himself James Macturk, tells me his friends have identified him with
Captain Macturk of St. Ronan's Well, and finding himself much
inconvenienced by this identification, he proposes I should apply to the
King to forward his restoration and advance in the service (he writes
himself late Lieutenant 4th Dragoon Guards) as an atonement for having
occasioned him (though unintentionally no doubt) so great an injury.
This is one road to promotion, to be sure. Lieutenant Macturk is, I
suppose, tolerably mad.

We dined together, Anne, Walter, and I, and were happy at our reunion,
when, as I was despatching my packet to London,

In started to heeze up our howp[75]

John Gibson, radiant with good-natured joy. He had another letter from
Cadell, enclosing one from Robinson, in which the latter pledges himself
to make the most explicit affidavit.

On these two last days I have written only three pages, but not from
inaptitude or incapacity to labour. It is odd enough--I think it
difficult to place me in a situation of danger, or disagreeable
circumstances, purely personal, which would shake my powers of mind, yet
they sink under mere lowness of spirits, as this Journal bears evidence
in too many passages.

_November_ 13.--Wrote a little in the morning, but not above a page.
Went to the Court about one, returned, and made several visits with Anne
and Walter. Cadell came, glorious with the success of his expedition,
but a little allayed by the prospect of competition for the copyrights,
on which he and I have our eyes as joint purchasers. We must have them
if possible, for I can give new value to an edition corrected with
notes. _Nous verrons!_ Captain Musgrave, of the house of Edenhall, dined
with us. After dinner, while we were over our whisky and water and
cigars, enter the merry knight. Misses Kerr came to tea, and we had fun
and singing in the evening.

_November_ 14.--A little work in the morning, but no gathering to my
tackle. Went to Court, remained till nigh one. Then came through a
pitiless shower; dressed and went to the christening of a boy of John
Richardson's who was baptized Henry Cockburn. Read the _Gazette_ of the
great battle of Navarino, in which we have thumped the Turks very well.
But as to the justice of our interference, I will only suppose some
Turkish plenipotentiary, with an immense turban and long loose trousers,
comes to dictate to us the mode in which we should deal with our
refractory liegemen the Catholics of Ireland. We hesitate to admit his
interference, on which the Moslem admiral runs into Cork Bay or Bantry
Bay, alongside of a British squadron, and sends a boat to tow aside a
fire-ship. A vessel fires on the boat and sinks her. Is there an
aggression on the part of those who fired first, or of those whose
manoeuvres occasioned the firing?

Dined at Henry Cockburn's with the christening party.

_November_ 15.--Wrote a little in the morning. Detained in Court till
two; then returned home wet enough. Met with Chambers, and complimented
him about his making a clever book of the 1745 for Constable's
_Miscellany_. It is really a lively work, and must have a good sale.
Before dinner enter Cadell, and we anxiously renewed our plan for buying
the copyrights on 19th December. It is most essential that the whole of
the Waverley Novels should be kept under our management, as it is
called. I may then give them a new impulse by a preface and notes; and
if an edition, of say 30 volumes, were to be published monthly to the
tune of 5000, which may really be expected if the shops were once
cleared of the over-glut, it would bring in L10,000 clear profit, over
all outlay, and so pay any sum of copy-money that might be ventured. I
must urge these things to Gibson, for except these copyrights be saved
our plans will go to nothing.

Walter and Anne went to hear Madame Pasta sing after dinner. I remained
at home; wrote to Sir William Knighton, and sundry other letters of
importance.

_November_ 16.--There was little to do in Court to-day, but one's time
is squandered, and his ideas broken strangely. At three we had a select
meeting of the Gas Directors to consider what line we were to take in
the disastrous affairs of the company. Agreed to go to Parliament a
second time. James Gibson [Craig] and I to go up as our solicitors. So
curiously does interest couple up individuals, though I am sure I have
no objection whatever to Mr. James Gibson-Craig.[76]

_November_ 17.--Returned home in early time from the Court. Settled on
the review of Ornamental Gardening for Lockhart, and wrote hard. Want
several quotations, though--that is the bore of being totally without
books. Anne and I dined quietly together, and I wrote after tea--an
industrious day.

_November_ 18.--This has been also a day of exertion. I was interrupted
for a moment by a visit from young Davidoff with a present of a steel
snuff-box [Tula work], wrought and lined with gold, having my arms on
the top, and on the sides various scenes from the environs and principal
public buildings of St. Petersburg--a _joli cadeau_--and I take it very
kind of my young friend. I had a letter from his uncle, Denis Davidoff,
the black captain of the French retreat. The Russians are certainly
losing ground and men in Persia, and will not easily get out of the
scrape of having engaged an active enemy in a difficult and unhealthy
country. I am glad of it; it is an overgrown power; and to have them
kept quiet at least is well for the rest of Europe. I concluded the
evening--after writing a double task--with the trial of Malcolm
Gillespie, renowned as a most venturous excise officer, but now like to
lose his life for forgery. A bold man in his vocation he seems to have
been, but the law seems to have got round to the wrong side of him on
the present occasion.[77]

_November_ 19.--Corrected the last proof of _Tales of my Grandfather_.
Received Cadell at breakfast, and conversed fully on the subject of the
_Chronicles_ and the application of the price of 2d series, say L4000,
to the purchase of the moiety of the copyrights now in the market, and
to be sold this day month. If I have the command of a new Edition and
put it into an attractive shape, with notes, introductions, and
illustrations that no one save I myself can give, I am confident it will
bring home the whole purchase-money with something over, and lead to
the disposal of a series of the subsequent volumes of the following
works,

St. Ronan's Well, 3 vols.
Redgauntlet, 3 "
Tales of Crusaders, 4 "
Woodstock, 3 "
-----
13

make a series of 7 vols.! The two series of the _Chronicles_ and others
will be ready about the same time.

_November_ 20.--Wrought in the morning at the review, which I fear will
be lengthy. Called on Hector as I came home from the Court, and found
him better, and keeping a Highland heart. I came home like a crow
through the mist, half dead with a rheumatic headache caused by the
beastly north-east wind.

"What am I now when every breeze appals me?"[78] I dozed for
half-an-hour in my chair for pain and stupidity. I omitted to say
yesterday that I went out to Melville Castle to inquire after my Lord
Melville, who had broke his collar-bone by a fall from his horse in
mounting. He is recovering well, but much bruised. I came home with Lord
Chief-Commissioner Adam. He told me a dictum of old Sir Gilbert Elliot,
speaking of his uncles. "No chance of opulence," he said, "is worth the
risk of a competence." It was not the thought of a great man, but
perhaps that of a wise one. Wrought at my review, and despatched about
half or better, I should hope. I incline to longer extracts in the next
sheets.

_November_ 21.--Wrought at the review. At one o'clock I attended the
general meeting of the Union Scottish Assurance Company. There was a
debate arose whether the ordinary acting directors should or should not
have a small sum, amounting to about a crown a piece allotted to them
each day of their regular attendance. The proposal was rejected by many,
and upon grounds which sound very well,--such as the shabbiness of men
being influenced by a trifling consideration like this, and the
absurdity of the Company volunteering a bounty to one set of men, when
there are others willing to act gratuitously, and many gentlemen
volunteered their own services; though I cannot help suspecting that, as
in the case of ultroneous offers of service upon most occasions, it was
not likely to be acceptable. The motion miscarried, however--impoliticly
rejected, as I think. The sound of five shillings sounds shabby, but the
fact is that it does in some sort reconcile the party to whom it is
offered to leave his own house and business at an exact hour; whereas,
in the common case, one man comes too late--another does not come at
all--the attendance is given by different individuals upon different
days, so that no one acquires the due historical knowledge of the
affairs of the Company. Besides, the Directors, by taking even this
trifling sum of money, render themselves the paid servants of the
Company, and are bound to use a certain degree of diligence, much
greater than if they continued to serve, as hitherto, gratuitously. The
pay is like enlisting money which, whether great or small, subjects to
engagements under the Articles of war.