Chapter VI: Part 6

_February_ 20.--Yesterday, though late in beginning, I nearly finished my task, which is six of my close pages, about thirty pages of print, to a full and uninterrupted day's work. To-day I have already written four, and with some confidence. Thus does flattery or praise oil the wheels. It is but two o'clock. Skene was here remonstrating against my taking apartments at the Albyn Club,[179] and recommending that I should rather stay with them.[180] I told him that was altogether impossible; I hoped to visit them often, but for taking a permanent residence I was altogether the country mouse, and voted for

"--A hollow tree,
A crust of bread and liberty."[181]

The chain of friendship, however bright, does not stand the attrition of constant close contact.

_February_ 21.--Corrected the proofs of _Malachi_[182] this morning; it may fall dead, and there will be a squib lost; it may chance to light on some ingredients of national feeling and set folk's beards in a blaze--and so much the better if it does. I mean better for Scotland--not a whit for me. Attended the hearing in P[arliament] House till near four o'clock, so I shall do little to-night, for I am tired and sleepy. One person talking for a long time, whether in pulpit or at the bar, or anywhere else, unless the interest be great, and the eloquence of the highest character, always sets me to sleep. I impudently lean my head on my hand in the Court and take my nap without shame. The Lords may keep awake and mind their own affairs. _Quod supra nos nihil ad nos._ These clerks' stools are certainly as easy seats as are in Scotland, those of the Barons of Exchequer always excepted.

_February_ 22.--Paid Lady Scott her fortnight's allowance, £24.

Ballantyne breakfasted, and is to negotiate about _Malachi_ with Constable and Blackwood. It reads not amiss; and if I can get a few guineas for it I shall not be ashamed to take them; for paying Lady Scott, I have just left between £3 and £4 for any necessary occasion and my salary does not become due until 20th March, and the expense of removing, etc., is to be provided for:

"But shall we go mourn for that, my dear?
The cold moon shines by night,
And when we wander here and there,
We then do go most right."[183]

The mere scarcity of money (so that actual wants are provided) is not poverty--it is the bitter draft to owe money which we cannot pay. Laboured fairly at _Woodstock_ to-day, but principally in revising and adding to _Malachi_, of which an edition as a pamphlet is anxiously desired. I have lugged in my old friend Cardrona[184]--I hope it will not be thought unkindly. The Banks are anxious to have it published. They were lately exercising lenity towards me, and if I can benefit them, it will be an instance of the "King's errand lying in the cadger's gate."

_February_ 23.--Corrected two sheets of _Woodstock_ this morning. These are not the days of idleness. The fact is, that the not seeing company gives me a command of my time which I possessed at no other period in my life, at least since I knew how to make some use of my leisure. There is a great pleasure in sitting down to write with the consciousness that nothing will occur during the day to break the spell. Detained in the Court till past three, and came home just in time to escape a terrible squall. I am a good deal jaded, and will not work till after dinner. There is a sort of drowsy vacillation of mind attends fatigue with me. I can command my pen as the school copy recommends, but cannot equally command my thought, and often write one word for another. Read a little volume called _The_ _Omen_[185]--very well written--deep and powerful language. _Aut Erasmus aut Diabolus_, it is Lockhart or I am strangely deceived. It is passed for Wilson's though, but Wilson has more of the falsetto of assumed sentiment, less of the depth of gloomy and powerful feeling.

_February_ 24.--Went down to printing-office after the Court, and corrected _Malachi_. J.B.'s name is to be on the imprint, so he will subscribe the book. He reproaches me with having taken much more pains on this temporary pamphlet than on works which have a greater interest on my fortunes. I have certainly bestowed enough of revision and correction. But the cases are different. In a novel or poem, I run the course alone--here I am taking up the cudgels, and may expect a drubbing in return. Besides, I do feel that this is public matter in which the country is deeply interested; and, therefore, is far more important than anything referring to my fame or fortune alone. The pamphlet will soon be out--meantime _Malachi_ prospers and excites much attention.[186] The Banks have bespoke 500 copies. The country is taking the alarm; and I think the Ministers will not dare to press the measure. I should rejoice to see the old red lion ramp a little, and the thistle again claim its _nemo me impune_. I do believe Scotsmen will show themselves unanimous at least where their cash is concerned. They shall not want backing. I incline to cry with Biron in _Love's Labour's Lost_,

"More Atés, more Atés! stir them on."

I suppose all imaginative people feel more or less of excitation from a scene of insurrection or tumult, or of general expression of national feeling. When I was a lad, poor Davie Douglas[187] used to accuse me of being _cupidus novarum rerum_, and say that I loved the stimulus of a broil. It might be so then, and even still--

"Even in our ashes glow their wonted fires."[188]

Whimsical enough that when I was trying to animate Scotland against the currency bill, John Gibson brought me the deed of trust, assigning my whole estate to be subscribed by me; so that I am turning patriot, and taking charge of the affairs of the country, on the very day I was proclaiming myself incapable of managing my own. What of that? The eminent politician, _Quidnunc_,[189] was in the same condition. Who would think of their own trumpery debts, when they are taking the support of the whole system of Scottish banking on their shoulders? Odd enough too--on this day, for the first time since the awful 17th January, we entertain at dinner--Lady Anna Maria Elliot,[190] W. Clerk, John A. Murray,[191] and Thomas Thomson,[192] as if we gave a dinner on account of my _cessio fori_.

_February_ 25.--Our party yesterday went off very gaily; much laugh and fun, and I think I enjoyed it more from the rarity of the event--I mean from having seen society at home so seldom of late. My head aches slightly though; yet we were but a bottle of Champagne, one of Port, one of old Sherry, and two of Claret, among four gentlemen and three ladies. I have been led from this incident to think of taking chambers near Clerk, in Rose Court.[193] Methinks the retired situation should suit me well. There a man and woman would be my whole establishment. My superfluous furniture might serve, and I could ask a friend or two to dinner, as I have been accustomed to do. I will look at the place to-day.

I must set now to a second epistle of _Malachi_ to the Athenians. If I can but get the sulky Scottish spirit set up, the devil won't turn them.

"Cock up your beaver, and cock it fu' sprush;
We'll over the Border, and give them a brush;
There's somebody there we'll teach better behaviour;
Hey, Johnnie lad, cock up your beaver."[194]

_February_ 26.--Spent the morning and till dinner on _Malachi's_ second epistle to the Athenians. It is difficult to steer betwixt the natural impulse of one's national feelings setting in one direction, and the prudent regard to the interests of the empire and its internal peace and quiet, recommending less vehement expression. I will endeavour to keep sight of both. But were my own interests alone concerned, d--n me but I would give it them hot! Had some valuable communications from Colin Mackenzie and Lord Medwyn, which will supply my plentiful lack of facts.

Received an anonymous satire in doggrel, which, having read the first verse and last, I committed to the flames. Peter Murray, son of the clever Lord Elibank, called and sat half-an-hour--an old friend, and who, from the peculiarity and originality of his genius, is one of the most entertaining companions I have ever known.[195] But I must finish _Malachi_.

_February_ 27.--_Malachi_ is getting on; I must finish him to-night. I dare say some of my London friends will be displeased--Canning perhaps, for he is _engoué_ of Huskisson. Can't help it.

The place I looked at won't do; but I really must get some lodging, for, reason or none, Dalgleish[196] will not leave me, and cries and makes a scene. Now if I stayed alone in a little set of chambers, he would serve greatly for my accommodation. There are some nice places of the kind in the. New Buildings, but they are distant from the Court, and I cannot walk well on the pavement. It is odd enough that just when I had made a resolution to use my coach frequently I ceased to keep one--in town at least.

_February_ 28.--Completed _Malachi_ to-day. It is more serious than the first, and in some places perhaps too peppery. Never mind, if you would have a horse kick, make a crupper out of a whin-cow,[197] and I trust to see Scotland kick and fling to some purpose. _Woodstock_ lies back for this. But _quid non pro patria_?

FOOTNOTES:

[143] _Cause of Truth defended_, etc. Two Trials of the Rev. T. Hill, Methodist Preacher, for defamation of the character of Miss Bell, etc. etc. 8vo. Hull and London, 1827.

[144] Coleridge's _Christabel_, Part II.

[145] James Ferrier, one of the Clerks of Session,--the father of the authoress of _Marriage, The Inheritance_, and _Destiny_. Mr. Ferrier was born in 1744, and died in 1829.

[146] "Authentic Memoirs of the remarkable Life and surprising Exploits of Mandrin, Captain-General of the French Smugglers, who for the space of nine months resolutely stood in defiance of the whole army of France," etc. 8vo, Lond. 1755. See _Waverley Novels_, vol. xxxvii. p. 434, Note.--J.G.L.

[147] See _Tranent Muir_ by Skirving.

[148] Addison, _Cato_, i. 4.

[149] See p. 83.

[150] Variation from 2 _Henry IV._, Act II. Sc. 4.

[151] _See_ "Glee for King Charles," _Waverley Novels_, vol. xl. p. 40.--J.G.L.

[152] Lady Louisa Stuart, youngest daughter of John, third Earl of Bute, and grand-daughter of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.

[153] The well-known Mathematician and Natural Philosopher. Professor Playfair died in 1819 in his seventy-second year.

Have you seen the famed Bas bleu, the gentle dame Apreece,
Who at a glance shot through and through the Scots Review,
And changed its swans to geese?
Playfair forgot his mathematics, astronomy, and hydrostatics,
And in her presence often swore, he knew not two and two made four.

[Squib of 1811.]

[154] See _Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act II. Sc. 2.

[155] This journey was made in 1810.--_See Life_, Chapter xxi. vol. iii. p. 271.

[156] Lady Davy survived her distinguished husband for more than a quarter of a century; she died in London, May 1855.

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

[158] Sir Patrick Murray of Ochtertyre, then a baron of the Court of Exchequer in Scotland; he died in June 1837.

[159] This cherished and confidential friend had been living at Kaeside from 1817, and acting as steward on the estate. Mr. Laidlaw died in Ross-shire in 1845.

Mr. Lockhart says, "I have the best reason to believe that the kind and manly character of Dandie [Dinmont in _Guy Mannering_], the gentle and delicious one of his wife, and some at least of the most picturesque peculiarities of the _ménage_ at Charlieshope were filled up from Scott's observation, years after this period [1792], of a family, with one of whose members he had, through the best part of his life, a close and affectionate connection. To those who were familiar with him, I have perhaps already sufficiently indicated the early home of his dear friend, William Laidlaw." _Life_, vol. i. p. 268. See also vol. ii. p. 59; v. pp. 210-15, 251; vii. p. 168; viii. p. 68, etc.

[160] Flax on her distaff.

[161] _The English in Italy_, 3 vols., Lond. 1825, ascribed to the Marquis of Normanby.

[162] "S.W.S." Scott, in writing of himself, often uses these three letters in playful allusion to a freak of his trusty henchman Tom Purdie, who, in his joy on hearing of the baronetcy, proceeded to mark every sheep on the estate with a large letter "S" in addition to the owner's initials, W.S., which, according to custom, had already been stamped on their backs.

[163] Moore also felt that the morning was his happiest time for work, but he preferred "composing" in bed! He says somewhere that he would have passed half his days in bed for the purpose of composition had he not found it too relaxing.

Macaulay, too, when engaged in his _History_, was in the habit of writing three hours before breakfast daily.

[164] I am assured by Professor Butcher that there is no such passage in the Odyssey, but he suggests "that what Scott had in his mind was merely the Greek idea of a _waking vision_ being a true one. They spoke of it as a ὕπαρ opposed to an ὄναρ, a mere dream. These waking visions are usually said to be seen towards morning.

"In the Odyssey there are two such visions which turn out to be realities:--that of Nausicaa, Bk. vi. 20, etc., and that of Penelope, Bk. xix. 535, etc. In the former case we are told that the vision occurred just before dawn; I. 48-49, αὐτίκα δ' Ἠὼςἦλθεν, 'straightway came the Dawn,' etc. In the latter, there is no special mention of the hour. The vision, however, is said to be not a dream, but a true vision which shall be accomplished (547, οὐκ ὂναρ ἀλλ' ὕπαρ ἐσθλὸν, ὅ τοι τετελεσμένον ἔσται).

"Such passages as these, which are frequent in Greek literature, might easily have given rise to the notion of a 'matutinal inspiration,' of which Scott speaks."

[165] General Sir James Steuart Denham of Coltness, Baronet, Colonel of the Scots Greys. His father, the celebrated political economist, took part in the Rebellion of 1745, and was long afterwards an exile. The reader is no doubt acquainted with "Lady Mary Wortley Montagu's Letters" addressed to him and his wife, Lady Frances.--J.G.L. See also Mrs. Calderwood's _Letters_, 8vo. Edin. 1884. Sir James died in 1839.

[166] "Had Prince Charles slept during the whole of the expedition," says the Chevalier Johnstone, "and allowed Lord George Murray to act for him according to his own judgment, there is every reason for supposing he would have found the crown of Great Britain on his head when he awoke."--_Memoirs of the Rebellion of 1745_, etc. 4to, p. 140. London, 1810.--J.G.L.

[167] The lines are given in _Woodstock_, with the following apology: "We observe this couplet in Fielding's farce of _Tumbledown Dick_, founded on the same classical story. As it was current in the time of the Commonwealth, it must have reached the author of _Tom Jones_ by tradition, for no one will suspect the present author of making the anachronism."

[168] Colonel Ranaldson Macdonell of Glengarry. He died in January 1828.--J.G.L.

[169] "We have had Maréchal Macdonald here. We had a capital account of Glengarry visiting the interior of a convent in the ancient Highland garb, and the effect of such an apparition on the nuns, who fled in all directions."--Scott to Skene, Edinburgh, 24th June 1825.

[170] No. 39 Castle Street, which had been occupied by him from 1802, when he removed from No. 10 in the same street. The situation suited him, as the houses of nearly all his friends were within a circle of a few hundred yards. For description see _Life_, vol. v. pp. 321, 333-4, etc.

[171] See below, _March_ 12.

[172] Burns's _Dedication_ to Gavin Hamilton--

"May ne'er misfortune's gowling bark Howl through the dwelling o' the
_Clerk_."

[173]

"O born to arms! O worth in youth approved, O soft humanity in age
beloved!"

--See Pope, _Epitaphs_, 9.

[174] David Monypenny had been on the Bench from 1813; he retired in 1830, and died at the age of eighty-one in 1850.

[175] Parody on Moore's _Minstrel Boy_.--J.G.L.

[176] "Le Pas de la Fontaine des Pleurs."--_Chroniques Nationales_.

[177] This hint was taken up in _Count Robert of Paris_.--J.G.L.

[178] James Ballantyne gives an interesting account of an interview a dozen years before this time, when "Tom Telltruth" had a somewhat delicate task to perform:--

"_The Lord of the Isles_ was by far the least popular of the series, and Mr. Scott was very prompt at making such discoveries. In about a week after its publication he took me into his library, and asked me what the people were saying about _The Lord of the Isles_. I hesitated, much in the same manner that Gil Blas might be supposed to do when a similar question was put by the Archbishop of Grenada, but he very speedily brought the matter to a point--'Come, speak out, my good fellow, what has put it in your head to be on ceremony with me? But the result is in one word--disappointment!' My silence admitted his inference to its fullest extent. His countenance certainly did look rather blank for a few seconds (for it is a singular fact, that before the public, or rather the booksellers, gave _their_ decision he no more knew whether he had written well or ill, than whether a die, which he threw out of a box, was to turn out a sise or an ace). However, he almost instantly resumed his spirits and expressed his wonder rather that his popularity had lasted so long, than that it should have given way at last. At length, with a perfectly cheerful manner, he said, 'Well, well, James, but you know we must not droop--for you know we can't and won't give over--we must just try something else, and the question is, what it's to be?' Nor was it any wonder he spoke thus, for he could not fail to be unconsciously conscious, if I dare use such a term, of his own gigantic, and as yet undeveloped, powers, and was somewhat under forty years old. I am by no means sure whether he then alluded to _Waverley_, as if he had mentioned it to me for the first time, for my memory has greatly failed me touching this, or whether he alluded to it, as in fact appears to have been the case, as having been commenced and laid aside several years before, but I well recollect that he consulted me with his usual openness and candour respecting his probability of succeeding as a novelist, and I confess my expectations were not very sanguine. He saw this and said, 'Well, I don't see why I should not succeed as well as other people. Come, faint heart never won fair lady--let us try.' I remember when the work was put into my hands, I could not get myself to think much, of the Waverley Honour scenes, but to my shame be it spoken, when he had reached the exquisite scenes of Scottish manners at Tully-Veolan, I thought them, and pronounced them, vulgar! When the success of the book so utterly knocked me down as a man of taste, all that the good-natured Author observed was, 'Well, I really thought you might be wrong about the Scotch. Why, Burns had already attracted universal attention to all about Scotland, and I confess I could not see why I should not be able to keep the flame alive, merely because I wrote in prose in place of rhyme.'"--_Memorandum_.

[179] This was a club-house on the London plan, in Princes Street [No. 54], a little eastward from the Mound. On its dissolution soon afterwards, Sir W. was elected by acclamation into the elder Society, called the _New Club_, who had then their house in St. Andrew Square [No. 3], and since 1837 in Princes Street [No. 85].

[180] Mr. Skene's house was No. 126 Princes Street. Scott's written answer has been preserved:--

"MY DEAR SKENE,--A thousand thanks for your kind proposal. But I am a solitary monster by temper, and must necessarily couch in a den of my own. I should not, I assure you, have made any ceremony in accepting your offer had it at all been like to suit me.

"But I must make an arrangement which is to last for years, and perhaps for my lifetime; therefore the sooner I place myself on my footing it will be so much the better.--Always, dear Skene, your obliged and faithful, W. SCOTT."

[181] Pope's _Imitation of Horace_, Bk. ii Sat. 6.--J.G.L.

[182] These Letters appeared in the _Edinburgh Weekly Journal_ in February and March 1826. "They were then collected into a pamphlet, and ran through numerous editions; in the subsequent discussions in Parliament, they were frequently referred to; and although an elaborate answer by the then Secretary of the Admiralty, Mr. Croker, attracted much notice, and was, by the Government of the time, expected to neutralise the effect of the northern lucubrations--the proposed measure, as regarded Scotland, was ultimately abandoned, and that result was universally ascribed to Malachi Malagrowther."--Scott's _Misc. Works_, vol. xxi.

[183] _Winter's Tale_, Act iv. Sc. 2, slightly altered.

[184] The late Mr. Williamson of Cardrona in Peeblesshire, was a strange humorist, of whom Sir Walter told many stories. The allusion here is to the anecdote of the _Leetle Anderson_ in the first of _Malachi_'s Epistles.:--See Scott's _Prose Miscellanies_, vol. xxi. p. 289.--_J.G.L._

[185] _The Omen_, by Galt, had just been published.--See Sir Walter's review of this novel in the _Miscellaneous Prose Works_, vol. xviii. p. 333. John Gait died at Greenock in April 1839.--J.G.L.

[186] "A Letter from Malachi Malagrowther, Esq., to the Editor of the _Edinburgh Weekly Journal_, on the proposed Change of Currency, and other late alterations as they affect, or are intended to affect, the Kingdom of Scotland. 8 vo, Edin. 1826."

The motto to the epistle was:--

"When the pipes begin to play
_Tutti taittie_ to the drum,
Out claymore and down wi' gun,
And to the rogues again."

In the next edition it was suppressed, as some friends thought it might be misunderstood. Mr. Croker in his reply had urged that if the author appealed to the edge of the claymore at Prestonpans, he might refer him to the point of the bayonet at Culloden.--See Croker's _Correspondence_, vol. i. pp. 317-320, and Scott's _Life_, vol. viii. pp. 301-5.

[187] Lord Reston, who died at Gladsmuir in 1819. He was one of Scott's companions at the High School.--See _Life_., vol. i. p. 40.

[188] See Gray's _Elegy_.--J.G.L.

[189] In Arthur Murphy's farce of _The Upholsterer, or What News_?

[190] Lady Anna Maria Elliot, daughter of the first Earl of Minto. She married Sir Rufane Donkin in 1832.

[191] Afterwards Lord Advocate, 1834 and 1835, and Judge under the title of Lord Murray from 1839; he died in 1859.

[192] The learned editor of the Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland, in 10 vols. folio, Edin. 1814-24; he succeeded Sir Walter as President of the Bannatyne Club in 1832, and died in 1852.

[193] Rose Court, where Mr. Clerk had a bachelor's establishment, was situated immediately behind St. Andrew's Church, George Street. The name disappeared from our Street Directories shortly after Mr. Clerk's death in 1847.

[194] Burns, in Johnson's _Musical Museum_, No. 319.

[195] One of the nineteen original members of _The Club_.--See Mr. Irving's letter with names, _Life_, vol. i. pp. 207-8, and Scott's joyous visit in 1793 to Meigle, pp. 292-4.

[196] Dalgleish was Sir Walter's butler. He said he cared not how much his wages were reduced--but go he would not.--J.G.L.

[197] Whin-cow--_Anglicè_, a bush of furze.--J.G.L.

MARCH.

_March_ 1.--_Malachi_ is in the _Edinburgh Journal_ to-day, and reads like the work of an uncompromising right-forward Scot of the old school. Some of the cautious and pluckless instigators will be afraid of their confederate; for if a man of some energy and openness of character happens to be on the same side with these truckling jobbers, they stand as much in awe of his vehemence as doth the inexperienced conjurer who invokes a fiend whom he cannot manage. Came home, in a heavy shower with the Solicitor. I tried him on the question, but found him reserved and cautious. The future Lord Advocate must be cautious; but I can tell my good friend John Hope that, if he acts the part of a firm and resolute Scottish patriot, both his own country and England will respect him the more. Ah! Hal Dundas, there was no such truckling in thy day!

Looked out a quantity of things to go to Abbotsford; for we are flitting, if you please.[198] It is with a sense of pain that I leave behind a parcel of trumpery prints and little ornaments, once the pride of Lady S----'s heart, but which she sees consigned with indifference to the chance of an auction. Things that have had their day of importance with me I cannot forget, though the merest trifles. But I am glad that she, with bad health and enough to vex her, has not the same useless mode of associating recollections with this unpleasant business. The best part of it is the necessity of leaving behind, viz., setting rid of, a set of most wretched daubs of landscapes, in great gilded frames, of which I have often been heartily ashamed. The history of them was curious. An amateur artist (a lady) happened to fall into misfortunes, upon which her landscapes, the character of which had been buoyed up far beyond their proper level, sank even beneath it, and it was low enough. One most amiable and accomplished old lady continued to encourage her pencil, and to order picture after picture, which she sent in presents to her friends. I suppose I have eight or ten of them, which I could not avoid accepting. There will be plenty of laughing when they come to be sold. It would be a good joke enough to cause it to be circulated that they were performances of my own in early youth, and they would be looked on and bought up as curiosities. True it is that I took lessons of oil-painting in youth from a little Jew animalcule, a smouch called Burrell, a clever sensible creature though; but I could make no progress either in painting or drawing. Nature denied me correctness of eye and neatness of hand, yet I was very desirous to be a draughtsman at least, and laboured harder to attain that point than at any other in my recollection, to which I did not make some approaches. My oil-paintings were to Miss ------ above commemorated what hers are to Claude Lorraine. Yet Burrell was not useless to me altogether neither; he was a Prussian, and I got from him many a long story of the battles of Frederic, in whose armies his father had been a commissary, or perhaps a spy. I remember his picturesque account of seeing a party of the Black Hussars bringing in some forage carts which they had taken from a body of the Cossacks, whom he described as lying on the top of the carts of hay, mortally wounded, and, like the Dying Gladiator, eyeing their own blood as it ran down through the straw. I afterwards took lessons from Walker, whom we used to call Blue-beard. He was one of the most conceited persons in the world, but a good teacher--one of the ugliest countenances he had too--enough, as we say, to spean weans.[199] The man was always extremely precise in the quality of everything about him, his dress, accommodations, and everything else. He became insolvent, poor man, and for some reason or other I attended the meeting of those concerned in his affairs. Instead of ordinary accommodations for writing, each of the persons present was equipped with a large sheet of drawing paper and a swan's quill. It was mournfully ridiculous enough. Skirving[200] made an admirable likeness of Walker, not a single scar or mark of the smallpox which seamed his countenance, but the too accurate brother of the brush had faithfully laid it down in longitude and latitude. Poor Walker destroyed it (being in crayons) rather than let the caricature of his ugliness appear at the sale of his effects. I did learn myself to take some vile views from Nature. When Will Clerk and I lived very much together, I used sometimes to make them under his instruction. He to whom, as to all his family, art is a familiar attribute, wondered at me as a Newfoundland dog would at a greyhound which showed fear of the water.

Going down to Liddesdale once, I drew the castle of Hermitage in my fashion, and sketched it so accurately that with a few verbal instructions Clerk put it into regular form, Williams[201] (the Grecian) copied over Clerk's, and _his_ drawing was engraved as the frontispiece of the first volume of the Kelso edition, _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_.[202] Do you know why you have written all this down, Sir W.? Because it pleases me to record that this thrice-transmitted drawing, though taken originally from a sketch of mine, was extremely like Hermitage, which neither of my colleagues in the task had ever seen? No, that's not the reason. You want to put off writing _Woodstock_, just as easily done as these memoranda, but which it happens your duty and your prudence recommend, and therefore you are loath to begin.

"Heigho,
I can't say no;
But this piece of task-work off I can stave, O,
For Malachi's posting into an octavo;
To correct the proof-sheets only this night I have, O,
So, Madame Conscience, you've gotten as good as you gave, O
But to-morrow's a new day and we'll better behave, O,
So I lay down the pen, and your pardon I crave, O."

In the evening Mr. Gibson called and transacted business.

_March_ 2.--I have a letter from Colin Mackenzie, approving _Malachi_,--"Cold men may say it is too strong; but from the true men of Scotland you are sure of the warmest gratitude." I never have yet found, nor do I expect it on this occasion, that ill-will dies in debt, or what is called gratitude distresses herself by frequent payments. The one is like a ward-holding and pays its reddendo in hard blows. The other a blanch-tenure, and is discharged for payment of a red rose or a peppercorn. He that takes the forlorn hope in an attack, is often deserted by those that should support him, and who generally throw the blame of their own cowardice upon his rashness. We shall see this will end in the same way. But I foresaw it from the beginning. The bankers will be persuaded that it is a squib which may burn their own fingers, and will curse the poor pyrotechnist that compounded it; if they do, they be d--d. Slept indifferently, and dreamed of Napoleon's last moments, of which I was reading a medical account last night, by Dr. Arnott. Horrible death--a cancer on the pylorus. I would have given something to have lain still this morning and made up for lost time. But _desidiae valedixi_. If you once turn on your side after the hour at which you ought to rise, it is all over. Bolt up at once. Bad night last--the next is sure to be better.

"When the drum beats, make ready;
When the fife plays, march away--
To the roll-call, to the roll-call, to the roll-call,
Before the break of day."

Dined with Chief-Commissioner, Admiral Adam, W. Clerk, Thomson, and I. The excellent old man was cheerful at intervals--at times sad, as was natural. A good blunder he told us, occurred in the Annandale case, which was a question partly of domicile. It was proved that leaving Lochwood, the Earl had given up his _kain_ and _carriages_;[203] this an English Counsel contended was the best of all possible proofs that the noble Earl designed an absolute change of residence, since he laid aside his _walking-stick_ and his _coach_.

First epistle of _Malachi_ is getting out of print, or rather is out of print already.

_March_ 3.--Could not get the last sheets of _Malachi_, Second Epistle, last night, so they must go out to the world uncorrected--a great loss, for the last touches are always most effectual; and I expect misprints in the additional matter. We were especially obliged to have it out this morning, that it may operate as a gentle preparative for the meeting of inhabitants at two o'clock. _Vogue la galère_--we shall see if Scotsmen have any pluck left. If not, they may kill the next Percy themselves. It is ridiculous enough for me, in a state of insolvency for the present, to be battling about gold and paper currency. It is something like the humorous touch in Hogarth's _Distressed Poet_, where the poor starveling of the Muses is engaged, when in the abyss of poverty, in writing an Essay on payment of the National Debt; and his wall is adorned with a plan of the mines of Peru. Nevertheless, even these fugitive attempts, from the success which they have had, and the noise they are making, serve to show the truth of the old proverb--

"When house and land are gone and spent,
Then learning is most excellent."

On the whole, I am glad of this brulzie, as far as I am concerned; people will not dare talk of me as an object of pity--no more "poor-manning." Who asks how many punds Scots the old champion had in his pocket when

"He set a bugle to his mouth,
And blew so loud and shrill,
The trees in greenwood shook thereat,
Sae loud rang ilka hill"?[204]

This sounds conceited enough, yet is not far from truth.

The meeting was very numerous, 500 or 600 at least, and unanimous, save in one Mr. Howden, who having been all his life, as I am told, in bitter opposition to Ministers, proposed on the present occasion that the whole contested measure should be trusted to their wisdom. I suppose he chose the opportunity of placing his own opinion in opposition, single opposition too, to that of a large assembly. The speaking was very moderate. Report had said that Jeffrey, J.A. Murray, and other sages of the economical school, were to unbuckle their mails, and give us their opinions. But no such great guns appeared. If they had, having the multitude on my side, I would have tried to break a lance with them. A few short but well-expressed resolutions were adopted unanimously. These were proposed by Lord Rollo, and seconded by Sir James Fergusson, Bart. I was named one of a committee to encourage all sorts of opposition to the measure. So I have already broken through two good and wise resolutions--one, that I would not write on political controversy; another, that I would not be named on public committees. If my good resolves go this way, like _snaw aff a dyke_--the Lord help me!

_March_ 4.--Last night I had a letter from Lockhart, who, speaking of _Malachi_, says, "The Ministers are sore beyond imagination at present; and some of them, I hear, have felt this new whip on the raw to some purpose." I conclude he means Canning is offended. I can't help it, as I said before--_fiat justitia, ruat coelum_. No cause in which I had the slightest personal interest should have made me use my pen 'gainst them, blunt or pointed as it may be. But as they are about to throw this country into distress and danger, by a measure of useless and uncalled-for experiment, they must hear the opinion of the Scotsmen, to whom it is of no other consequence than as a general measure affecting the country at large,--and mine they _shall_ hear. I had determined to lay down the pen. But now they shall have another of _Malachi_, beginning with buffoonery, and ending as seriously as I can write it. It is like a frenzy that they will agitate the upper and middling classes of society, so very friendly to them, with unnecessary and hazardous [projects],

"Oh, thus it was they loved them dear,
And sought how to requite 'em,
And having no friends left but they,
They did resolve to fight them."

The country is very high just now. England may carry the measure if she will, doubtless. But what will be the consequence of the distress ensuing, God only can foretell.

Lockhart, moreover, inquires about my affairs anxiously, and asks what he is to say about them; says, "He has inquiries every day; kind, most kind all, and among the most interested and anxious, Sir William Knighton,[205] who told me the king was quite melancholy all the evening he heard of it." _This_ I can well believe, for the king, educated as a prince, has, nevertheless, as true and kind a heart as any subject in his dominions. He goes on: "I do think they would give you a Baron's gown as soon as possible," etc. I have written to him in answer, showing I have enough to carry me on, and can dedicate my literary efforts to clear my land. The preferment would suit me well, and the late Duke of Buccleuch gave me his interest for it. I dare say the young duke would do the same, for the unvaried love I have borne his house; and by and by he will have a voice potential. But there is Sir William Rae in the meantime, whose prevailing claim I would never place my own in opposition to, even were it possible by a _tour de force_, such as L. points at, to set it aside. Meantime, I am building a barrier betwixt me and promotion. Any prospect of the kind is very distant and very uncertain. _Come time, come, rath_, as the German says.

In the meanwhile, now I am not pulled about for money, etc., methinks I am happier without my wealth than with it. Everything is paid. I have no one wishing to _make up a sum_ of money, and writing for his account to be paid. Since 17th January I have not laid out a guinea, out of my own hand, save two or three in charity, and six shillings for a pocket-book. But the cash with which I set out having run short for family expenses I drew on Blackwood, through Ballantyne, which was honoured, for £25, to account of _Malachi's Letters_, of which another edition of 1000 is ordered, and gave it to Lady Scott, because our removal will require that in hand. This is for a fortnight succeeding Wednesday next, being the 8th March current. On the 20th my quarter comes in, and though I have something to pay out of it, I shall be on velvet for expense--and regular I will be. Methinks all trifling objects of expenditure seem to grow light in my eyes. That I may regain independence, I must be saving. But ambition awakes, as love of quiet indulgence dies and is mortified within me. "Dark Cuthullin will be renowned or dead."[206]

_March_ 5.--Something of toddy and cigar in that last quotation, I think. Yet I only smoked two, and liquified with one glass of spirits and water. I have sworn I will not blot out what I have once written here.

_Malachi_ goes on, but I am dubious about the commencement--it must be mended at least--reads prosy.

Had letters from Walter and Jane, the dears. All well. Regiment about to move from Dublin.

_March_ 6.--Finished third _Malachi_, which I don't much like. It respects the difficulty of finding gold to replace the paper circulation. Now this should have been considered first. The admitting that the measure may be imposed is yielding up the question, and _Malachi_ is like a commandant who should begin to fire from interior defences before his outworks were carried. If Ballantyne be of my own opinion I will suppress it. We are all in a bustle shifting things to Abbotsford. I believe we shall stay here till the beginning of next week. It is odd, but I don't feel the impatience for the country which I have usually experienced.

_March_ 7.--Detained in the Court till _three_ by a hearing. Then to the Committee appointed at the meeting on Friday, to look after the small-note business. A pack of old _fainéants_, incapable of managing such a business, and who will lose the day from mere coldness of heart. There are about a thousand names at the petition. They have added no designations--a great blunder; for _testimonia sunt ponderanda, non numeranda_ should never be lost sight of. They are disconcerted and helpless; just as in the business of the King's visit, when everybody threw the weight on me, for which I suffered much in my immediate labour, and after bad health it brought on a violent eruption on my skin, which saved me from a fever at the time, but has been troublesome more or less ever since. I was so disgusted with seeing them sitting in ineffectual helplessness spitting on the hot iron that lay before them, and touching it with a timid finger, as if afraid of being scalded, that at another time I might have dashed in and taken up the hammer, summoned the deacons and other heads of public bodies, and by consulting them have carried them with me. But I cannot waste my time, health, and spirits in fighting thankless battles. I left them in a quarter of an hour, and presage, unless the country make an alarm, the cause is lost. The philosophical reviewers manage their affairs better--hold off--avoid committing themselves, but throw their _vis inertiæ_ into the opposite scale, and neutralise the feelings which they cannot combat. To force them to fight on disadvantageous ground is our policy. But we have more sneakers after Ministerial favour than men who love their country, and who upon a liberal scale would serve their party. For to force the Whigs to avow an unpopular doctrine in popular assemblies, or to wrench the government of such bodies from them, would be a _coup de maître_. But they are alike destitute of manly resolution and sound policy. D--n the whole nest of them! I have corrected the last of _Malachi_, and let the thing take its chance. I have made enemies enough, and indisposed enough of friends.

_March_ 8.--At the Court, though a teind day. A foolish thing happened while the Court were engaged with the teinds. I amused myself with writing on a sheet of paper notes on Frederick Maitland's account of the capture of Bonaparte; and I have lost these notes--shuffled in perhaps among my own papers, or those of the teind clerks. What a curious document to be found in a process of valuation!

Being jaded and sleepy, I took up Le Due de Guise on Naples.[207] I think this, with the old Memoires on the same subject which I have at Abbotsford, would enable me to make a pretty essay for the _Quarterly_. We must take up _Woodstock_ now in good earnest. Mr. Cowan, a good and able man, is chosen trustee in Constable's affairs, with full power. From what I hear, the poor man is not sensible of the nature of his own situation; for myself, I have succeeded in putting the matters perfectly out of my mind since I cannot help them, and have arrived at a _flocci-pauci-nihili-pili-_fication of money, and I thank Shenstone for inventing that long word.[208] They are removing the wine, etc., to the carts, and you will judge if our flitting is not making a noise in the world--or in the street at least.

_March_ 9.--I foresaw justly,

"When first I set this dangerous stone a-rolling,
'Twould fall upon myself."[209]

Sir Robert Dundas to-day put into my hands a letter of between thirty and forty pages, in angry and bitter reprobation of _Malachi_, full of general averments and very untenable arguments, all written at me by name, but of which I am to have no copy, and which is to be shown to me _in extenso_, and circulated to other special friends, to whom it may be necessary to "give the sign to hate."[210] I got it at two o'clock, and returned [it] with an answer four hours afterwards, in which I have studied not to be tempted into either sarcastic or harsh expressions.[211] A quarrel it is however, in all the forms, between my old friend and myself, and his lordship's reprimand is to be _read out in order_ to all our friends. They all know what I have said is true, but that will be nothing to the purpose if they are desired to consider it as false. As for Lord Melville, I do not wonder that he is angry, though he has little reason, for he, our _watchman stented_, has from time to time suffered all manner of tampering to go on under his nose with the institutions and habits of Scotland. As for myself, I was quite prepared for my share of displeasure. It is very curious that I should have foreseen all this so distinctly as far back as 17th February. Nobody at least can plague me for interest with Lord Melville as they used to do. By the way, from the tone of his letter, I think his lordship will give up the measure, and I will be the peace-offering. All will agree to condemn me as too warm--too rash--and get rich on privileges which they would not have been able to save but for a little rousing of spirit, which will not perhaps fall asleep again.[212] A gentleman called on the part of a Captain [Rutherford], to make inquiry about the Border Rutherfords. Not being very _cleever_, as John Fraser used to say, at these pedigree matters, referred him to Mrs. Dr. Russell and Robt. Rutherford. The noble Captain conceits he has some title to the honours of Lord Rutherford. Very odd--when there is a vacant or dormant title in a Scottish family or _name_, everybody, and all connected with the clan, conceive they have _quodam modo_ a right to it. Not being engrossed by any individual, it communicates part of its lustre to every individual in the tribe, as if it remained in common stock for that purpose.

_March_ 10.--I am not made entirely in the same mould of passions like other people. Many men would deeply regret a breach with so old a friend as Lord Melville, and many men would be in despair at losing the good graces of a Minister of State for Scotland, and all pretty visions about what might be done for myself and my sons, especially Charles. But I think my good lord doth ill to be angry, like the patriarch of old, and I have, in my odd sans souciance character, a good handful of meal from the grist of the Jolly Miller, who

"Once
Dwelled on the river Dee;
I care for nobody, no, not I,
Since nobody cares for me."

Breakfasted with me Mr. Franks, a young Irishman from Dublin, who brought letters from Walter and Captain Longmore of the Royal Staff. He has written a book of poetry, _Tales of Chivalry and Romance_, far from bad, yet wants spirit. He talks of publishing his recollections in the Peninsula, which must be interesting, for he has, I think, sense and reflection.

Sandie Young[213] came in at breakfast-time with a Monsieur Brocque of Montpelier.

Saw Sir Robert Dundas at Court, who condemns Lord Melville, and says he will not show his letter to any one; in fact it would be exactly placarding me in a private and confidential manner. He is to send my letter to Lord Melville. Colin Mackenzie concurs in thinking Lord Melville quite wrong. "_He must cool in the skin he het in._"

On coming home from the Court a good deal fatigued, I took a nap in my easy-chair, then packed my books, and committed the refuse to Jock Stevenson--

"Left not a limb on which a Dane could triumph."

Gave Mr. Gibson my father's cabinet, which suits a man of business well. Gave Jock Stevenson the picture of my old favourite dog Camp, mentioned in one of the introductions to _Marmion_, and a little crow-quill drawing of Melrose Abbey by Nelson, whom I used to call the Admiral. Poor fellow! he had some ingenuity, and was, in a moderate way, a good penman and draughtsman. He left his situation of amanuensis to go into Lord Home's militia regiment, but his dissipated habits got the better of a strong constitution, and he fell into bad ways and poverty, and died, I believe, in the hospital at Liverpool. Strange enough that Henry Weber, who acted afterwards as my amanuensis for many years, had also a melancholy fate ultimately. He was a man of very superior attainments, an excellent linguist and geographer, and a remarkable antiquary. He published a collection of ancient Romances, superior, I think, to the elaborate Ritson. He also published an edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, but too carelessly done to be reputable. He was a violent Jacobin, which he thought he disguised from me, while I, who cared not a fig about the poor young man's politics, used to amuse myself with teasing him. He was an excellent and affectionate creature, but unhappily was afflicted with partial insanity, especially if he used strong liquors, to which, like others with that unhappy tendency, he was occasionally addicted. In 1814[214] he became quite insane, and, at the risk of my life, I had to disarm him of a pair of loaded pistols, which I did by exerting the sort of authority which, I believe, gives an effectual control in such cases. His friends, who were respectable, placed him in the York Asylum, where he pined away and died, I think, in 1814 or 1815.[215] My patronage in this way has not been lucky to the parties protected. I hope poor George Huntly Gordon will escape the influence of the evil star. He has no vice, poor fellow, but his total deafness makes him helpless.

_March_ 11.--This day the Court rose after a long and laborious sederunt. I employed the remainder of the day in completing a set of notes on Captain Maitland's manuscript narrative of the reception of Napoleon Bonaparte on board the _Bellerophon_. It had been previously in the hands of my friend Basil Hall, who had made many excellent corrections in point of style; but he had been hypercritical in wishing (in so important a matter where everything depends on accuracy) this expression to be altered for delicacy's sake,--that to be omitted for fear of giving offence,--and that other to be abridged for fear of being tedious. The plain sailor's narrative for me, written on the spot, and bearing in its minuteness the evidence of its veracity.

Lord Elgin sent me, some time since, a curious account of his imprisonment in France, and the attempts which were made to draw him into some intrigue which might authorise treating him with rigour[216]. He called to-day and communicated some curious circumstances, on the authority of Fouché, Denon, and others, respecting Bonaparte and the empress Maria Louise, whom Lord Elgin had conversed with on the subject in Italy. His conduct towards her was something like that of Ethwald to Elburga, in Joanna Baillie's fine tragedy[217], making her postpone her high rank by birth to the authority which he had acquired by his talents. Dinner was usually announced for a particular hour, and Napoleon's business often made him late. She was not permitted to sit down to table, an etiquette which was reasonable enough. But from the hour of dinner till the Emperor appeared she was to be in the act of sitting down; that is to say, he was displeased if he found her engaged with a book, with work, or with anything else. She was obliged to be in a state of absolute "being about to sit down." She seemed a good deal _gênée_ by something of that kind, though remembering with pride she had been Empress, it might almost be said of the world. The rest for to-morrow.

_March_ 12.--Resumed _Woodstock_, and wrote my task of six pages. I was interrupted by a slumberous feeling which made me obliged to stop once or twice. I shall soon have a remedy in the country, which affords the pleasanter resource of a walk when such feelings come on. I hope I am the reverse of the well-known line, "sleepy myself, to give my readers sleep." I cannot _gurnalise_ at any rate, having wrought my eyes nearly out.[218]