_June_ 1.--Being Sunday I remained to work the whole day, and finished
half of the proposed volume of History. I was not disturbed the whole
day, a thing rather unusual.
_June_ 2.--Received Mr. Rees of London and Col. Ferguson to breakfast.
Mr. Rees is clearly of opinion our scheme (the _Magnum_) must
answer.[328] I got to letter-writing after breakfast, and cleared off
old scores in some degree. Dr. Ross called and would hardly hear of my
going out. I was obliged, however, to attend the meeting of the trustees
for the Theatre.[329] The question to be decided was, whether we should
embrace an option left to us of taking the old Theatre at a valuation,
or whether we should leave it to Mrs. Siddons and Mr. Murray to make the
best of it. There were present Sir Patrick Murray, Baron Hume, Lord
Provost, Sir John Hay, Mr. Gilbert Innes, and myself. We were all of
opinion that personally we ought to have nothing to do with it. But I
thought as trustees for the public, we were bound to let the public know
how the matter stood, and that they might, if they pleased, have the
theatrical property for £16,000, which is dog cheap. They were all clear
to give it up (the right of reversion) to Mrs. Siddons. I am glad she
should have it, for she is an excellent person, and so is her brother.
But I think it has been a little jobbish. There is a clause providing
the new patentees may redeem. I desired that the circumstance should be
noted, that we were only exercising our own judgment, leaving the future
trustees to exercise theirs. I rather insisted that there should be some
saving clause of this kind, even for the sake of our honour. But I could
not prevail upon my colleagues to put such a saving clause on the
minutes, though they agreed to the possibility of the new patentees
redeeming on behalf of the public. I do not think we have done right.
I called on Mr. Cadell, whose reports of the _Magnum_ might fill up the
dreams of Alnaschar should he sleep as long as the seven sleepers. The
rest was labour and letters till bed-time.
_June_ 3.--The ugly symptoms still continue. Dr. Ross does not make much
of it, and I think he is apt to look grave.[330] I wrote in the morning.
Dr. Macintosh Mackay came to breakfast, and brought a Gaelic book, which
he has published--the Poetry of Rob Donn--some of which seems pretty as
he explained it. Court kept me till near two, and then home comes I.
Afternoon and evening was spent as usual. In the evening Dr. Ross
ordered me to be cupped, an operation which I only knew from its being
practised by that eminent medical practitioner the barber of Bagdad. It
is not painful; and, I think, resembles a giant twisting about your
flesh between his finger and thumb.
_June_ 4.--I was obliged to absent myself from the Court on Dr. Ross's
positive instance; and, what is worse, I was compelled to send an
apology to Hopetoun House, where I expected to see Madame Caradori, who
was to sing Jock of Hazeldean. I wrote the song for Sophia; and I find
my friends here still prefer her to the foreign syren.
"However, Madame Caradori,
To miss you I am very sorry,
I should have taken it for glory
To have heard you sing my Border story."