The Journal of Sir Walter Scott by Walter Scott

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I wrought accordingly on Gillies's review for the _Life of Moliere_, a
gallant subject. I am only sorry I have not time to do it justice. It
would have required a complete re-perusal of his works, for which, alas!
I have no leisure.

"For long, though pleasant, is the way,
And life, alas! allows but one ill winter's day."

Which is too literally my own case.

_January_ 11.--Renewed my labour, finished the review, _talis qualis_,
and sent it off. Commenced then my infernal work of putting to rights.
Much cry and little woo', as the deil said when he shore the sow. But I
have detected one or two things that had escaped me, and may do more
to-morrow. I observe by a letter from Mr. Cadell that I had somewhat
misunderstood his last. It is he, not Longman, that wishes to publish
the thousand copies of _St. Ronan's_ Series, and there is no immediate
call for _Napoleon_. This makes little difference in my computation. The
pressing necessity of correction is put off for two or three months
probably, and I have time to turn myself to the _Chronicles_. I do not
much like the task, but when did I ever like labour of any kind? My
hands were fully occupied to-day with writing letters and adjusting
papers--both a great bore.

The news from London assure a change of Ministry. The old Tories come in
play. But I hope they will compromise nothing. There is little danger
since Wellington takes the lead.

_January_ 12.--My expenses have been considerably more than I expected;
but I think that, having done so much, I need not undergo the
mortification of giving up Abbotsford and parting with my old habits and
servants.[116]

_January_ 13, _[Edinburgh]._--We had a slow and tiresome retreat from
Abbotsford through the worst of weather, half-sleet, half-snow. Dined
with the Royal Society Club, and, being an anniversary, sat till nine
o'clock, instead of half-past seven.

_January_ 14.--I read Cooper's new novel, _The Red Rover_; the current
of it rolls entirely upon the ocean. Something there is too much of
nautical language; in fact, it overpowers everything else. But, so
people once take an interest in a description, they will swallow a great
deal which they do not understand. The sweet word "Mesopotamia" has its
charm in other compositions as well as in sermons. He has much genius, a
powerful conception of character, and force of execution. The same
ideas, I see, recur upon him that haunt other folks. The graceful form
of the spars, and the tracery of the ropes and cordage against the sky,
is too often dwelt upon.

_January_ 15.--This day the Court sat down. I missed my good friend
Colin Mackenzie, who proposes to retire, from indifferent health. A
better man never lived--eager to serve every one--a safeguard over all
public business which came through his hands. As Deputy-Keeper of the
Signet he will be much missed. He had a patience in listening to every
one which is of the [highest consequence] in the management of a public
body; for many men care less to gain their point than they do to play
the orator, and be listened to for a certain time. This done, and due
quantity of personal consideration being gained, the individual orator
is usually satisfied with the reasons of the civil listener, who has
suffered him to enjoy his hour of consequence. I attended the Court, but
there was very little for me to do. The snowy weather has annoyed my
fingers with chilblains, and I have a threatening of rheumatism--which
Heaven avert!

James Ballantyne and Mr. Cadell dined with me to-day and talked me into
a good humour with my present task, which I had laid aside in disgust.
It must, however, be done, though I am loth to begin to it again.

_January_ 16.--Again returned early, and found my way home with some
difficulty. The weather--a black frost powdered with snow, my fingers
suffering much and my knee very stiff. When I came home, I set to work,
but not to the _Chronicles_. I found a less harassing occupation in
correcting a volume or two of _Napoleon_ in a rough way. My indolence,
if I can call it so, is of a capricious kind. It never makes me
absolutely idle, but very often inclines me--as it were from mere
contradiction's sake--to exchange the task of the day for something
which I am not obliged to do at the moment, or perhaps not at all.

_January_ 17.--My knee so swelled and the weather so cold that I stayed
from Court. I nibbled for an hour or two at _Napoleon_, then took
handsomely to my gear, and wrote with great ease and fluency six pages
of the _Chronicles_. If they are but tolerable I shall be satisfied. In
fact, such as they are, they must do, for I shall get warm as I work, as
has happened on former occasions. The fact is, I scarce know what is to
succeed or not; but this is the consequence of writing too much and too
often. I must get some breathing space. But how is that to be managed?
There is the rub.

_January_ 18-19.--Remained still at home, and wrought hard. The fountain
trickles free enough, but God knows whether the waters will be worth
drinking. However, I have finished a good deal of hard work,--that's the
humour of it.

_January_ 20.--Wrought hard in the forenoon. At dinner we had Helen
Erskine,--whom circumstances lead to go to India in search of the
domestic affection which she cannot find here,--Mrs. George Swinton, and
two young strangers: one, a son of my old friend Dr. Stoddart of the
_Times_, a well-mannered and intelligent youth, the other that unnatural
character, a tame Irishman, resembling a formal Englishman.

_January_ 21.--This morning I sent J.B. as far as page forty-three,
being fully two-thirds of the volume. The rest I will drive on, trusting
that, contrary to the liberated posthorse in John Gilpin, the lumber of
the wheels rattling behind me may put spirit in the poor brute who has
to drag it.

Mr. and Mrs. Moscheles were here at breakfast. She is a very pretty
little Jewess; he one of the greatest performers on the pianoforte of
the day,--certainly most surprising and, what I rather did not expect,
pleasing.

I have this day the melancholy news of Glengarry's death, and was
greatly shocked. The eccentric parts of his character, the pretensions
which he supported with violence and assumption of rank and authority,
were obvious subjects of censure and ridicule, which in some points were
not undeserved. He played the part of a chieftain too nigh the life to
be popular among an altered race, with whom he thought, felt, and acted,
I may say in right and wrong, as a chieftain of a hundred years since
would have done, while his conduct was viewed entirely by modern eyes,
and tried by modern rules.[117]

_January_ 22.--I am, I find, in serious danger of losing the habit of my
Journal; and, having carried it on so long, that would be pity. But I am
now, on the 1st February, fishing for the lost recollections of the days
since the 21st January. Luckily there is not very much to remember or
forget, and perhaps the best way would be to skip and go on.

_January_ 23.--Being a Teind day, I had a good opportunity of work. I
should have said I had given breakfast on the 21st to Mr. and Mrs.
Moscheles; she a beautiful young creature, "and one that adores me," as
Sir Toby says,[118]--that is, in my poetical capacity;--in fact, a frank
and amiable young person. I liked Mr. Moscheles' playing better than I
could have expected, considering my own bad ear. But perhaps I flatter
myself, and think I understood it better than I did. Perhaps I have not
done myself justice, and know more of music than I thought I did. But it
seems to me that his variations have a more decided style of originality
than those I have commonly heard, which have all the signs of a _da capo
rota_.

Dined at Sir Archibald Campbell's,[119] and drank rather more wine than
usual in a sober way. To be sure, it was excellent, and some old
acquaintances proved a good excuse for the glass.

_January_ 24.--I took a perverse fit to-day, and went off to write
notes, et cetera, on _Guy Mannering_. This was perverse enough; but it
was a composition between humour and duty; and as such, let it pass.

_January_ 25.--I went on working, sometimes at my legitimate labours,
sometimes at my jobs of Notes, but still working faithfully, in good
spirits, and contented.

Huntly Gordon has disposed of the two sermons[120] to the bookseller
Colburn for L250--well sold, I think--and is to go forth immediately.
The man is a puffing quack; but though I would rather the thing had not
gone there, and far rather that it had gone nowhere, yet, hang it! if it
makes the poor lad easy, what needs I fret about it? After all, there
would be little gain in doing a kind thing, if you did not suffer pain
or inconvenience upon the score.

_January_ 26.--Being Saturday, attended Mr. Moscheles' concert, and was
amused; the more so that I had Mrs. M. herself to flirt a little with.
To have so much beauty as she really possesses, and to be accomplished
and well-read, she is an unaffected and pleasant person. Mr. Moscheles
gives lessons at two guineas by the hour, and he has actually found
scholars in this poor country. One of them at least (Mrs. John Murray)
may derive advantage from his instructions; for I observe his mode of
fingering is very peculiar, as he seems to me to employ the fingers of
the same hand in playing the melody and managing the bass at the same
time, which is surely most uncommon.

I presided at the Celtic Society's dinner to-day, and proposed
Glengarry's memory, which, although there had been a rough dispute with
the Celts and the poor Chief, was very well received. I like to see men
think and bear themselves like men. There were fewer in the tartan than
usual--which was wrong.

_January_ 27.--Wrought manfully at the _Chronicles_ all this day and
have nothing to jot down; only I forgot that I lost my lawsuit some day
last week or the week before. The fellow therefore gets his money, plack
and bawbee, but it's always a troublesome claim settled,[121] and there
can be no other of the same kind, as every other creditor has accepted
the composition of _7s._ in the L, which my exertions have enabled me to
pay them. About L20,000 of the fund had been created by my own exertions
since the bankruptcy took place, and I had a letter from Donald Horne,
by commission of the creditors, to express their sense of my exertions
in their behalf. All this is consolatory.

_January_ 28.--I am in the scrape of sitting for my picture, and had to
repair for two hours to-day to Mr. Colvin Smith--Lord Gillies's nephew.
The Chief Baron[122] had the kindness to sit with me great part of the
time, as the Chief Commissioner had done on a late occasion. The picture
is for the Chief Commissioner, and the Chief Baron desires a copy. I
trust it will he a good one. At home in the evening, and wrote. I am
well on before the press, notwithstanding late hours, lassitude, and
laziness. I have read Cooper's _Prairie_--better, I think, than his _Red
Rover_, in which you never get foot on shore, and to understand entirely
the incidents of the story it requires too much knowledge of nautical
language. It's very clever, though.[123]

_January_ 29.--This day at the Court, and wrote letters at home, besides
making a visit or two--rare things with me. I have an invitation from
Messrs Saunders and Otley, booksellers, offering me from L1500 to L2000
annually to conduct a journal; but I am their humble servant. I am too
indolent to stand to that sort of work, and I must preserve the
undisturbed use of my leisure, and possess my soul in quiet. A large
income is not my object; I must clear my debts; and that is to be done
by writing things of which I can retain the property. Made my excuses
accordingly.

_January_ 30.--After Court hours I had a visit from Mr. Charles Heath,
the engraver, accompanied by a son of Reynolds the dramatist. His object
was to engage me to take charge as editor of a yearly publication called
_The Keepsake,_ of which the plates are beyond comparison beautiful, but
the letter-press indifferent enough. He proposed L800 a year if I would
become editor, and L400 if I would contribute from seventy to one
hundred pages. I declined both, but told him I might give him some
trifling thing or other, and asked the young men to breakfast the next
day. Worked away in the evening and completed, "in a way and in a
manner," the notes on _Guy Mannering_. The first volume of the
_Chronicles_ is now in Ballantyne's hands, all but a leaf or two. Am I
satisfied with my exertions? So so. Will the public be pleased with
them? Umph! I doubt the bubble will burst. While it is current, however,
it is clear I should stand by it. Each novel of three volumes brings
L4000, and I remain proprietor of the mine when the first ore is cropped
out. This promises a good harvest, from what we have experienced. Now,
to become a stipendiary editor of a New-Year's Gift-Book is not to be
thought of, nor could I agree to work for any quantity of supply to such
a publication. Even the pecuniary view is not flattering, though these
gentlemen meant it should be so. But one hundred of their close-printed
pages, for which they offer L400, is not nearly equal to one volume of a
novel, for which I get L1300, and have the reversion of the copyright.
No, I may give them a trifle for nothing, or sell them an article for a
round price, but no permanent engagement will I make. Being the
Martyrdom, there was no Court. I wrought away with what appetite I
could.

_January_ 31.--I received the young gentlemen to breakfast and expressed
my resolution, which seemed to disappoint them, as perhaps they expected
I should have been glad of such an offer. However, I have since thought
there are these rejected parts of the _Chronicles_, which Cadell and
Ballantyne criticised so severely, which might well enough make up a
trifle of this kind, and settle the few accounts which, will I nill I,
have crept in this New Year. So I have kept the treaty open. If I give
them 100 pages I should expect L500.

I was late at the Court and had little time to write any till after
dinner, and then was not in the vein; so commentated.

FOOTNOTES:

[109] To whom Scott addressed the fifth canto of _Marmion_.

[110] See letter to R. Cadell, _Life_, vol. ix. p. 209.

[111] "The first _Tales of a Grandfather_ [as has already been said]
appeared early in December, and their reception was more rapturous than
that of any one of his works since _Ivanhoe_. He had solved for the
first time the problem of narrating history, so as at once to excite and
gratify the curiosity of youth, and please and instruct the wisest of
mature minds. The popularity of the book has grown with every year that
has since elapsed; it is equally prized in the library, the boudoir, the
schoolroom, and the nursery; it is adopted as the happiest of manuals,
not only in Scotland, but wherever the English tongue is spoken; nay, it
is to be seen in the hands of old and young all over the civilised
world, and has, I have little doubt, extended the knowledge of Scottish
history in quarters where little or no interest had ever before been
awakened as to any other parts of that subject except those immediately
connected with Mary Stuart and the Chevalier."--_Life_, vol. ix. pp.
186-7.

[112] It may be remarked at this point how the value of these works has
been sustained by the public demand during the term of legal copyright
and since that date. That of _Waverley_ expired in 1856, and the others
at forty-two years from the date of publication.

On December 19, 1827, the copyright of the Novels from _Waverley_ to
_Quentin Durward_ was acquired, as mentioned in the text, for L8400 as a
joint purchase. Five years later, viz., in 1832, Mr. Cadell purchased
from Sir Walter's representatives, for about L40,000, the author's share
in stock and entire copyrights!

Nineteen years afterwards, viz., on the 26th March 1851 (after Mr.
Cadell's death), the stock and copyrights were exposed for sale by
auction in London, regarding which a Trade Journal of the date says--

"Mr. Hodgson offered for sale the whole of the copyrights of Sir Walter
Scott's works, including stereotypes, steels, woodcuts, etc., to a very
large meeting of the publishers of this country. After one or two of our
leading firms had retired from the contest, the lot was bought in for,
we believe, L15,500. This sum did not include the stock on hand, valued
at L10,000. However, the fact is that the Trustees have virtually
refused L25,000 for the stock, copyrights, etc., of Scott's works."

Messrs. A. & C. Black in 1851 purchased the property at nearly the same
price, viz.:--Copyright, L17,000; stock, L10,000--in all, L27,000. Mr.
Francis Black, who has kindly given me information regarding the sale of
these works, tells me that of the volumes of one of the cheaper issues
about three millions have been sold since 1851. This, of course, is
independent of other publishers' editions in Great Britain, the
Continent, and America.

[113] In _Henry IV._, Act v. Sc. 3.

[114] In an interesting letter to Scott from Fenimore Cooper, dated
Sept. 12th, 1827, he tells him "that the French abuse you a little, but
as they began to do this, to my certain knowledge, five months before
the book was published, you have no great reason to regard their
criticism.

It would be impossible to write the truth on such a subject and please
this nation. One frothy gentleman denounced you in my presence as having
a low, vulgar style, very much such an one as characterised the pen of
Shakespeare!"

[115] A proverb having its rise from an exclamation made by Mr. David
Dick, a Covenanter, on witnessing the execution of some of Montrose's
followers.--Wishart's _Montrose_, quoting from Guthrie's _Memoirs_, p.
182.

[116] Scott's biographer records his admiration for the manner in which
all his dependants met the reverse of their master's fortunes. The
butler, instead of being the easy chief of a large establishment, was
now doing half the work of the house at probably half his former wages.
Old Peter, who had been for five-and-twenty years a dignified coachman,
was now ploughman in ordinary; only putting his horses to the carriage
on high and rare occasions; and so on with all that remained of the
ancient train, and all seemed happier.

[117] _Ante_, vol. i. p. 120.

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

[119] Sir Archibald Campbell of Succoth. He lived at 1 Park Place.

[120] The circumstances under which these sermons were written are fully
detailed in the _Life_, vol. ix. pp. 193, 206. They were issued in a
thin octavo vol. under the title _Religious Discourses,_ by a Layman,
with a short Preface signed W.S. There were more editions than one
published during 1828.

[121] _Ante_, p. 65.

[122] Sir Samuel Shepherd.

[123] Mr. Cooper did not relax his efforts to secure Scott an interest
in his works reprinted in America, but he was not successful, and he
writes to Scott in the autumn of 1827: "This, sir, is a pitiful account
of a project from which I expected something more just to you and
creditable to my country."

FEBRUARY.

_February_ 1.--I had my two youths again to breakfast, but I did not say
more about my determination, save that I would help them if I could make
it convenient. The Chief Commissioner has agreed to let Heath have his
pretty picture of a Study at Abbotsford, by Edwin Landseer, in which old
Maida occurs. The youth Reynolds is what one would suppose his father's
son to be, smart and forward, and knows the world. I suppose I was too
much fagged with sitting in the Court to-day to write hard after dinner,
but I did work, however.

_February_ 2.--Corrected proofs, which are now nearly up with me. This
day was an idle one, for I remained in Court till one, and sat for my
picture till half-past three to Mr. Smith. He has all the steadiness and
sense in appearance which his cousin R.P.G. lacks.[124] Whether he has
genius or no, I am no judge. My own portrait is like, but I think too
broad about the jowls, a fault which they all fall into, as I suppose,
by placing their subject upon a high stage and looking upwards to them,
which must foreshorten the face. The Chief Baron and Chief Commissioner
had the goodness to sit with me.

Dressed and went with Anne to dine at Pinkie House, where I met the
President,[125] Lady Charlotte, etc.; above all, Mrs. Scott of Gala,
whom I had not seen for some time. We had much fun, and I was, as Sir
Andrew Aguecheek says, in good fooling.[126] A lively French girl, a
governess I think, but very pretty and animated, seemed much amused with
the old gentleman. Home at eleven o'clock.

By the by, Sir John Hope had found a Roman eagle on his estate in Fife
with sundry of those pots and coffeepots, so to speak, which are so
common: but the eagle was mislaid, so I did not see it.

_February_ 3.--I corrected proofs and wrote this morning,--but slowly,
heavily, lazily. There was a mist on my mind which my exertions could
not dispel. I did not get two pages finished, but I corrected proofs and
commentated.

_February_ 4.--Wrote a little and was obliged to correct the Moliere
affair for R.P.G. I think his plan cannot go on much longer with so much
weakness at the helm. A clever fellow would make it take the field with
a vengeance, but poor G. will run in debt with the booksellers and let
all go to the devil. I sent a long letter to Lockhart, received from
Horace Smith, very gentlemanlike and well-written, complaining that Mr.
Leigh Hunt had mixed him up, in his Life of Byron, with Shelley as if he
had shared his irreligious opinions. Leigh Hunt afterwards at the
request of Smith published a swaggering contradiction of the inference
to be derived from the way in which he has named them together. Horatio
Smith seems not to have relied upon his disclamation, as he has
requested me to mention the thing to John Lockhart, and to some one
influential about Ebony, which I have done accordingly.

_February_ 5.--Concluded the first volume before breakfast. I am but
indifferently pleased; either the kind of thing is worn out, or I am
worn out myself, or, lastly, I am stupid for the time. The book must be
finished, however. Cadell is greatly pleased with annotations intended
for the new edition of the Waverley series. I believe that work must be
soon sent to press, which would put a powerful wheel in motion to clear
the ship. I went to the Parliament House, and in return strolled into
Cadell's, being rather anxious to prolong my walk, for I fear the
constant sitting for so many hours. When I returned, the Duke of
Buccleuch came in. He is looking very well, and stout, but melancholy
about his sister, Lady Charlotte Stopford. He is fitting up a part of
Bowhill and intends to shoot there this year. God send him life and
health, for it is of immense consequence.

_February_ 6.--This and visits wasted my time till past two, and then I
slept half-an-hour from mere exhaustion. Went in the evening to the
play, and saw that good old thing, an English tragedy, well got up. It
was _Venice Preserved_. Mrs. H. Siddons played Belvidera with much
truth, feeling, and tenderness, though short of her mother-in-law's
uncommon majesty, which is a thing never to be forgotten. Mr. Young
played Pierre very well, and a good Jaffier was supplied by a Mr.
Vandenhoff. And so the day glided by; only three pages written, which,
however, is a fair task.

_February_ 7.--It was a Teind day, so no Court, but very little work. I
wrote this morning till the boy made his appearance for proofs; then I
had letters to write. Item, at five o'clock I set out with Charles for
Dalkeith to present him to the young Duke.

I asked the Duke about poor Hogg. I think he has decided to take Mr.
Riddell's opinion; it is unlucky the poor fellow has ever taken that
large and dear farm.[127] Altogether Dalkeith was melancholy to-night,
and I could not raise my spirits at all.

_February_ 8.--I had a little work before dinner, but we are only seven
pages into volume second. It is always a beginning, however; perhaps not
a good one--I cannot tell. I went out to call on Gala and Jack
Rutherfurd of Edgerstoun; saw the former, not the latter. Gala is
getting much better. He talked as if the increase of his village was
like to drive him over the hill to the Abbotsford side, which would
greatly beautify that side and certainly change his residence for the
better, only that he must remain some time without any appearance of
plantation. The view would be enchanting.

I was tempted to buy a picture of Nell Gywnne,[128] which I think has
merit; at least it pleases me. Seven or eight years ago Graham of
Gartmore bid for it against me, and I gave it up at twenty-five guineas.
I have now bought it for L18, 18s. Perhaps there was folly in this, but
I reckoned it a token of good luck that I should succeed in a wish I had
formerly harboured in vain. I love marks of good luck even in trifles.

_February_ 9.--Sent off three leaves of copy; this is using the press
like the famished sailor who was fed by a comrade with shell-fish by one
at a time. But better anything than stop, for the devil is to get set
a-going again. I know no more than my old boots whether I am right or
wrong, but have no very favourable anticipations.