_May_ 23, [_Abbotsford._]--About a year ago I took the pet at my Diary,
chiefly because I thought it made me abominably selfish; and that by
recording my gloomy fits I encouraged their recurrence, whereas out of
sight, out of mind, is the best way to get rid of them; and now I hardly
know why I take it up again; but here goes. I came here to attend
Raeburn's funeral. I am near of his kin, my great-grandfather, Walter
Scott, being the second son or first cadet of this small family. My late
kinsman was also married to my aunt, a most amiable old lady. He was
never kind to me, and at last utterly ungracious. Of course I never
liked him, and we kept no terms. He had forgot, though, an infantine
cause of quarrel, which I always remembered. When I was four or five
years old I was staying at Lessudden House, an old mansion, the abode of
this Raeburn. A large pigeon-house was almost destroyed with starlings,
then a common bird, though now seldom seen. They were seized in their
nests and put in a bag, and I think drowned, or threshed to death, or
put to some such end. The servants gave one to me, which I in some
degree tamed, and the brute of a laird seized and wrung its neck. I flew
at his throat like a wild cat, and was torn from him with no little
difficulty. Long afterwards I did him the mortal offence to recall some
superiority which my father had lent to the laird to make up a
qualification, which he meant to exercise by voting for Lord Minto's
interest against poor Don. This made a total breach between two
relations who had never been friends, and though I was afterwards of
considerable service to his family, he kept his ill-humour, alleging
justly enough that I did these kind actions for the sake of his wife and
family, not for his benefit. I now saw him at the age of eighty-two or
three deposited in the ancestral grave. Dined with my cousins, and
returned to Abbotsford about eight o'clock.
_May 24, [Edinburgh]._--Called on my neighbour Nicol Milne of
Faldonside, to settle something about the road to Selkirk. Afterwards
went to Huntly Burn and made my compliments to the family. Lunched at
half-past two and drove to town, calling at George Square on Gala. He
proposed to give up the present road to Selkirk in favour of another on
the north side of the river, to be completed by two bridges. This is an
object for Abbotsford. In the evening came to town. Letter from Mr.
H[aydon] soliciting £20. Wait till Lockhart comes.
_May_ 25.--Got into the old mill this morning, and grind away. Walked in
very bad day to George Square from the Parliament House, through paths
once familiar, but not trod for twenty years. Met Scott of Woll and
Scott of Gala, and consulted about the new road between Galashiels and
Selkirk. I am in hopes to rid myself of the road to Selkirk, which goes
too near me at Abbotsford. Dined at Lord Chief Commissioner's, where we
met the new Chief Baron Abercromby[361] and his lady. I thought it was
the first time we had met for above forty years, but he put me in mind
we had dined one day at John Richardson's.
_May_ 26.--Wrought with proofs, etc., at the _Demonology_, which is a
cursed business to do neatly. I must finish it though, for I need
money. I went to the Court; from that came home, and scrambled on with
half writing, half reading, half idleness till evening. I have laid
aside smoking much; and now, unless tempted by company, rarely take a
cigar. I was frightened by a species of fit which I had in February,
which took from me my power of speaking. I am told it is from the
stomach. It looked woundy like palsy or apoplexy. Well, be it what it
will, I can stand it.[362]
_May_ 27.--Court as usual. I am agitating a proposed retirement from
the Court. As they are only to have four instead of six Clerks of
Session in Scotland, it will be their interest to let me retire on a
superannuation. Probably I shall make a bad bargain, and get only
two-thirds of the salary, instead of three-fourths. This would be hard,
but I could save between two and three hundred pounds by giving up town
residence; and surely I could do enough with my time at reviews and
other ways, so as to make myself comfortable at Abbotsford. At any rate,
_jacta est aha_; Sir Robert Peel and the Advocate seem to acquiesce in
the arrangement, and Sir Robert Dundas retires alongst with me. I think
the difference will be infinite in point of health and happiness.
_May_ 28.--Wrought in the morning, then the Court, then Cadell's. My
affairs go on up to calculation, and the _Magnum_ keeps its ground. If
this can last for five or six years longer we may clear our hands of
debt; but perhaps I shall have paid that of Nature before that time
come. They will have the books, and Cadell to manage them, who is a
faithful pilot. The poetry which we purchased for [£7000], payable in
two years, is melting off our hands; and we will feed our _Magnum_ in
that way when we have sold the present stock, by which we hope to pay
the purchase-money, and so go on velvet with the continuation. So my
general affairs look well. I expect Lockhart and Sophia to arrive this
evening in the Roads, and breakfast with us to-morrow. This is very
reviving.
_May_ 29.--The Lockharts were to appear at nine o'clock, but it is past
four, and they come not. There has been easterly wind, and a swell of
the sea at the mouth of the Firth, but nevertheless I wish they would
come. The machinery is liable to accidents, and they may be delayed
thus.
Mr. Piper, the great contractor for the mail coaches, one of the
sharpest men in his line, called here to-day to give his consent to our
line of road. He pays me the compliment of saying he wishes my views on
the subject. That is perhaps fudge, but at least I know enough to choose
the line that is most for my own advantage. I have written to make Gala
acquainted that my subscription depends on their taking the Gala foot
road; no other would suit me. After dinner I began to tease myself about
the children and their parents, and night went down on our uncertainty.
_May_ 30.--Our travellers appeared early in the morning, _cum tota
sequela_. Right happy were we all. Poor Johnnie looks well. His
deformity is confirmed, poor fellow; but he may be a clever lad for all
that. An imposthume in his neck seems to be the crisis of his complaint.
He is a gentle, placid creature. Walter is remarkably handsome, and so
is little Whippety Stourie,[363] as I call her. After breakfast I had a
chat with Lockhart about affairs in general, which, as far as our little
interests are concerned, are doing very well. Lockhart is now
established in his reputation and literary prospects.[364] I wrote some
more in his _Demonology_, which is a scrape, I think.
_May_ 31.--Set to work early, and did a good day's work without much
puffing and blowing. Had Lockhart at dinner, and a _tête-à-tête_ over
our cigar. He has got the right ideas for getting to the very head of
the literary world and now stands very high as well for taste and
judgment as for genius. I think there is no fear now of his letting a
love of fun run away with him. At home the whole day, except a walk to
Cadell's, who is enlarging his sale. As he comes upon heavy months, and
is come now to the _Abbot_, the _Monastery_, and the less profitable or
popular of the novels, this is a fortunate circumstance. The management
seems very judicious.