Lochornie and Lochornie Moss,
The Loutingstane and Dodgell's Cross,
Craigen Cat and Craigen Crow,
Craiggaveral, the King's Cross, and Dunglow.
_July_ 2.--I made up for my deficiencies yesterday, and besides
attending the Court wrote five close pages, which I think is very near
double task. I was alone the whole day and without interruption. I have
little doubt I will make my solitude tell upon my labours, especially
since they promise to prove so efficient. I was so languid yesterday
that I did not record that J. Ballantyne, his brother Sandy, and Mr.
Cadell dined here on a beef-steak, and smoked a cigar, and took a view
of our El Dorado.
_July_ 3.--Laboured at Court, where I was kept late, and wrought on my
return home, finishing about five pages. I had the great pleasure to
learn that the party with the infantry got safe to Abbotsford.
_July_ 4.--After Court I came home and set to work, still on the
_Tales_. When I had finished my bit of dinner, and was in a quiet way
smoking my cigar over a glass of negus, Adam Ferguson comes with a
summons to attend him to the Justice-Clerk's, where, it seems, I was
engaged. I was totally out of case to attend his summons, redolent as I
was of tobacco. But I am vexed at the circumstance. It looks careless,
and, what is worse, affected; and the Justice is an old friend
moreover.[351] I rather think I have been guilty towards him in this
respect before. Devil take my stupidity! I will call on Monday and say,
Here is my sabre and here is my heart.
_July_ 5.--Sir Adam came to breakfast, and with him Mr. and Mrs.
Johnstone of Bordeaux, the lady his cousin. I could not give them a
right Scottish breakfast, being on a Sunday morning. Laboured on the
_Tales_ the whole morning.
The post brought two letters of unequal importance. One from a person
calling himself Haval, announcing to me the terrific circumstance that
he had written against the Waverley Novels in a publication called _La
Belle Assemblée_, at which doubtless, he supposes, I must be much
annoyed. He be d----, and that's plain speaking. The other from Lord
Aberdeen, announcing that Lockhart, Dr. Gooch, and myself, are invested
with the power of examining the papers of the Cardinal Duke of York, and
reporting what is fit for publication. This makes it plain that the
Invisible[352] neither slumbers nor sleeps. The toil and remuneration
must be Lockhart's, and to any person understanding that sort of work
the degree of trust reposed holds out hope of advantage. At any rate, it
is a most honourable trust, and I have written in suitable terms to Lord
Aberdeen to express my acceptance of it, adverting to my necessary
occupations here, and expressing my willingness to visit London
occasionally to superintend the progress of the work. Treated myself,
being considerably fagged, with a glass of poor Glengarry's
super-excellent whisky and a cigar, made up my Journal, wrote to the
girls, and so to roost upon a crust of bread and a glass of small beer,
my usual supper.
_July_ 6.--I laboured all the morning without anything unusual, save a
call from my cousin, Mary Scott of Jedburgh, whom I persuaded to take
part of my chaise to Abbotsford on Saturday. At two o'clock I walked to
Cadell's, and afterwards to a committee of the Bannatyne Club.
Thereafter I went to Leith, where we had fixed a meeting of _The Club_,
now of forty-one years' standing.[353] I was in the chair, and Sir Adam
croupier. We had the Justice-Clerk, Lord Abercromby, Lord Pitmilly, Lord
Advocate, James Ferguson, John Irving, and William Clerk, and passed a
merry day for old fellows. It is a curious thing that only _three_ have
died of this club since its formation. These were the Earl of Selkirk;
James Clerk, Lieutenant in the Navy; and Archibald Miller, W.S. Sir
Patrick Murray was an unwilling absentee. There were absent--Professor
Davidson of Glasgow, besides Glassford, who has cut our society, and
poor James Edmonstoune, whose state of health precludes his ever joining
society again. We took a fair but moderate allowance of wine, sung our
old songs, and were much refreshed with a hundred old stories, which
would have seemed insignificant to any stranger. The most important of
these were old college adventures of love and battle.
_July_ 7.--I was rather apprehensive that I might have felt my unusual
dissipation this morning, but not a whit; I rose as cool as a cucumber,
and set about to my work till breakfast-time. I am to dine with
Ballantyne to-day. To-morrow with John Murray. This sounds sadly like
idleness, except what may be done either in the morning before
breakfast, or in the broken portion of the day between attendance on the
Court and my dinner meal,--a vile, drowsy, yawning, fagged portion of
existence, which resembles one's day, as a portion of the shirt,
escaping betwixt one's waistcoat and breeches, indicates his linen.
Dined with James Ballantyne, who gave us a very pleasant party. There
was a great musician, Mr. Neukomm, a German, a pupil of Haydn, a
sensible, pleasant man.
_July_ 8.--This morning I had an ample dose of proofs and could do
nothing but read them. The Court kept me till two; I was then half
tempted to go to hear Mr. Neukomm perform on the organ, which is said to
be a most masterly exhibition, but I reflected how much time I should
lose by giving way to temptation, and how little such ears as mine would
be benefited by the exhibition, and so I resolved to return to my
proofs, having not a little to do. I was so unlucky as to meet my
foreigner along with Mr. Laine, the French Consul, and his lady, who all
invited me to go with them, but I pleaded business, and was set down,
doubtless, for a Goth, as I deserved. However, I got my proofs settled
before dinner-time, and began to pack up books, etc.
I dined at John Murray's, and met, amongst others, Mr. Schutze, the
brother-in-law of poor George Ellis. We conversed about our mutual
friend, and about the life Canning was to have written about him, and
which he would have done _con amore_. He gave me two instances of poor
George's neatness of expression, and acuteness of discrimination. Having
met, for the first time, "one Perceval, a young lawyer," he records him
as a person who, with the advantages of life and opportunity, would
assuredly rise to the head of affairs. Another gentleman is briefly
characterised as "a man of few words, and fewer ideas." Schutze himself
is a clever man, with something dry in his manner, owing, perhaps, to an
imperfection of hearing. Murray's parties are always agreeable and well
chosen.
_July_ 9.--I began an immense arrangement of my papers, but was obliged
to desist by the approach of four o'clock. Having been enabled to shirk
the Court, I had the whole day to do what I wished, and as I made some
progress I hope I will be strengthened to resume the task when at
Abbotsford.
Heard of the death of poor Bob Shortreed,[354] the companion of many a
long ride among the hills in quest of old ballads. He was a merry
companion, a good singer and mimic, and full of Scottish drollery. In
his company, and under his guidance, I was able to see much of rural
society in the mountains which I could not otherwise have attained, and
which I have made my use of. He was, in addition, a man of worth and
character. I always burdened his hospitality while at Jedburgh on the
Circuit, and have been useful to some of his family. Poor fellow! He
died at a most interesting period for his family, when his eldest
daughter was about to make an advantageous marriage. So glide our
friends from us--_Haec poena diu viventibus_. Many recollections die
with him and with poor Terry.[355] I dined with the Skenes in a family
way.
_July_ 10,--Had a hard day's work at the Court till about two, and then
came home to prepare for the country. I made a _talis qualis_
arrangement of my papers, which I trust I shall be able to complete at
Abbotsford, for it will do much good. I wish I had a smart boy like Red
Robin the tinker. Wrote also a pack of letters.
_Abbotsford, July_ 11.--I was detained in the Court till nearly one
o'clock, then set out and reached Abbotsford in five or six hours. Found
all well, and Johnnie rather better. He sleeps, by virtue of being in
the open air, a good deal.
_July_ 12.--The day excessively rainy, or, as we call it, soft. I e'en
unpacked my books and did a great deal to put them in order, but I was
sick of the labour by two o'clock and left several of my books and all
of my papers at sixes and sevens. Sir Adam and the Colonel dined with
us. A Spanish gentleman with his wife, whom I had seen at the French
Consul's, also dropped in. He was a handsome, intelligent, and sensible
man; his name I have forgot. We had a pleasant evening.
_July_ 13.--This day I wrote till one, resuming the History, and making
out a day's task. Then went to Chiefswood, and had the pleasure of a
long walk with a lady, well known in the world of poetry, Mrs. Hemans.
She is young and pretty, though the mother of five children, as she
tells me. There is taste and spirit in her conversation. My daughters
are critical, and call her blue, but I think they are hypercritical. I
will know better when we meet again. I was home at four. Had an evening
walk with little Walter, who held me by the finger, gabbling eternally
much that I did, and more that I did not, understand. Then I had a long
letter to write to Lockhart,[356] correct and read, and despatch proofs,
etc.; and to bed heartily tired, though with no great exertion.
_July_ 14.--A rainy forenoon broke the promise of a delightful morning.
I wrote four and a half pages, to make the best of a bad bargain. If I
can double the daily task, I will be something in hand. But I am
resolved to stick to my three pages a day at least. The twelfth of
August will then complete my labours.
_July_ 15.--This day two very pretty and well-bred boys came over to
breakfast with us. I finished my task of three pages and better, and
went to walk with the little fellows round the farm, by the lake, etc.,
etc. They were very good companions. Tom has been busy thinning the
terrace this day or two, and is to go on.
_July_ 16.--I made out my task-work and betook myself to walk about
twelve. I feel the pen turn heavy after breakfast; perhaps my solemn
morning meal is too much for my intellectual powers, but I won't abridge
a single crumb for all that. I eat very little at dinner, and can't
abide to be confined in my hearty breakfast. The work goes on as
task-work must, slow, sure, and I trust not drowsy, though the author
is. I sent off to Dionysius Lardner (Goodness be with us, what a name!)
as far as page thirty-eight inclusive, but I will wait to add
to-morrow's quota. I had a long walk with Tom.[357] I am walking with
more pleasure and comfort to myself than I have done for many a day.
May Heaven continue this great mercy, which I have so much reason to be
thankful for!
_July_ 17.--- We called at Chiefswood and asked Captain Hamilton, and
Mrs. H., and Mrs. Hemans, to dinner on Monday. She is a clever person,
and has been pretty. I had a long walk with her _tête-à-tête_. She told
me of the peculiar melancholy attached to the words _no more_. I could
not help telling, as a different application of the words, how an old
dame riding home along Cockenzie Sands, pretty bowsy, fell off the
pillion, and her husband, being in good order also, did not miss her
till he came to Prestonpans. He instantly returned with some neighbours,
and found the good woman seated amidst the advancing tide, which began
to rise, with her lips ejaculating to her cummers, who she supposed were
still pressing her to another cup, "Nae ae drap mair, I thank you
kindly." We dined in family, and all well.
_July_ 18.--- A Sunday with alternate showers and sunshine. Wrote double
task, which brings me to page forty-six inclusive. I read the
_Spae-wife_ of Galt. There is something good in it, and the language is
occasionally very forcible, but he has made his story difficult to
understand, by adopting a region of history little known, and having
many heroes of the same name, whom it is not easy to keep separate in
one's memory. Some of the traits of the _Spae-wife_, who conceits
herself to be a changeling or twin, are very good indeed. His Highland
Chief is a kind of Caliban, and speaks, like Caliban, a jargon never
spoken on earth, but full of effect for all that.
_July_ 19.--I finished two leaves this morning, and received the
Hamiltons and Mrs. Hemans to breakfast. Afterwards we drove to Yarrow
and showed Mrs. Hemans the lions. The party dined with us, and stayed
till evening. Of course no more work.
_July_ 20.--A rainy day, and I am very drowsy and would give the world
to ------[358]. [Transcriber's Note: In original, there was a blank
space instead of the dashes.] I wrote four leaves, however, and then my
understanding dropped me. I have made up for yesterday's short task.
* * * * *
NOTE.--From July 20th, 1329, to May 23d, 1830, there are no entries
in the Journal, but during that time Sir Walter met with a sad
loss. He was deprived of his humble friend and staunch henchman,
Thomas Purdie. The following little note to Laidlaw shows how
keenly he felt his death:--
"MY DEAR WILLIE,--I write to tell you the shocking news of poor Tom
Purdie's death, by which I have been greatly affected. He had
complained, or rather spoken, of a sore throat; and the day before
yesterday, as it came on a shower of rain, I wanted him to walk
fast on to Abbotsford before me, but you know well how impossible
that was. He took some jelly, or trifle of that kind, but made no
complaint. This morning he rose from bed as usual, and sat down by
the table with his head on his hand; and when his daughter spoke to
him, life had passed away without a sigh or groan. Poor fellow!
There is a heart cold that loved me well, and, I am sure, thought
of my interest more than his own. I have seldom been so much
shocked. I wish you would take a ride down and pass the night.
There is much I have to say, and this loss adds to my wish to see
you. We dine at four. The day is indifferent, but the sooner the
better.--Yours very truly,
"WALTER SCOTT.[359]
"_31st_ (sic) _October_," Qy. _29th_.
To Mr. Cadell, a few days later, he says, "I have lost my old and
faithful servant, my _factotum_, and am so much shocked that I
really wish to be quit of the country. I have this day laid him in
the grave."
On coming to Edinburgh, Sir Walter found that his old friend and
neighbour Lady Jane Stuart[360] was no longer there to welcome him.
She also had died somewhat suddenly on October 28th, and was buried
at Invermay on November 4th.