The Journal of Sir Walter Scott Part 73

Dined with the Banking Club of Scotland, in virtue of Sir Malachi Malagrowther; splendid entertainment, of course. Sir John Hay in the chair.

_March_ 8.--Spent the morning in reading proofs and additions to _Magnum_. I got a note from Cadell, in which Ballantyne, by a letter enclosed, totally condemns _Anne of Geierstein_--three volumes nearly finished--a pretty thing, truly, for I will be expected to do it all over again. Great dishonour in this, as Trinculo says,[269] besides an infinite loss. Sent for Cadell to attend me next morning that we may consult about this business. Peel has made his motion on the Catholic question, with a speech of three hours. It is almost a complete surrender to the Catholics, and so it should be, for half measures do but linger out the feud. This will, or rather ought to, satisfy all men who sincerely love peace, and therefore all men of property. But will this satisfy Pat, who, with all his virtues, is certainly not the most sensible person in the world? Perhaps not; and if not, it is but fighting them at last. I smoked away, and thought of ticklish politics and bad novels. Skene supped with us.

_March_ 9.--Cadell came to breakfast. We resolved in Privy Council to refer the question whether _Anne of G----n_ be sea-worthy or not to further consideration, which, as the book cannot be published, at any rate, during the full rage of the Catholic question, may be easily managed. After breakfast I went to Sir William Arbuthnot's,[270] and met there a select party of Tories, to decide whether we should act with the Whigs by owning their pet.i.tion in favour of the Catholics. I was not free from apprehension that the pet.i.tion might be put into such general language as I, at least, was unwilling to authenticate by my subscription. The Solicitor[271] was voucher that they would keep the terms quite general; whereupon we subscribed the requisition for a meeting, with a slight alteration, affirming that it was our desire not to have intermeddled, had not the anti-Catholics pursued that course; and so the Whigs and we are embarked in the same boat, _vogue la galere_.

Went about one o'clock to the Castle, where we saw the auld murderess Mons Meg brought up there in solemn procession to reoccupy her ancient place on the Argyle battery. Lady Hopetoun was my belle. The day was cold but serene, and I think the ladies must have been cold enough, not to mention the Celts, who turned out upon the occasion, under the leading of Cluny Macpherson, a fine spirited lad. Mons Meg is a monument of our pride and poverty. The size is immense, but six smaller guns would have been made at the same expense, and done six times as much execution as she could have done. There was immense interest taken in the show by the people of the town, and the numbers who crowded the Castle-hill had a magnificent appearance. About thirty of our Celts attended in costume; and as there was a Highland regiment on duty, with dragoons and artillerymen, the whole made a splendid show. The dexterity with which the last manned and wrought the windla.s.s which raised old Meg, weighing seven or eight tons, from her temporary carriage to that which has been her basis for many years, was singularly beautiful as a combined exhibition of skill and strength. My daughter had what might have proved a frightful accident. Some rockets were let off, one of which lighted upon her head, and set her bonnet on fire. She neither screamed nor ran, but quietly permitted Charles K. Sharpe to extinguish the fire, which he did with great coolness and dexterity. All who saw her, especially the friendly Celts, gave her merit for her steadiness, and said she came of good blood. I was very glad and proud of her presence of mind. My own courage was not put to the test, for being at some distance, escorting the beautiful and lively Countess of Hopetoun, I did not hear of the accident till it was over. We lunched with the regiment (73d) now in the Castle. The little entertainment gave me an opportunity of observing what I have often before remarked--the improvement in the character of the young and subaltern officers in the army, which in the course of a long and b.l.o.o.d.y war had been, in point of rank and manners, something deteriorated. The number of persons applying for commissions (3000 being now on the lists) gives an opportunity of selection, and officers should certainly be _gentlemen_, with a complete opening to all who can rise by merit. The style in which duty, and the knowledge of their profession, is enforced, prevents _faineants_ from long remaining in the profession.

In the evening I presided at the Celtic Club, who received me with their usual partiality. I like this society, and willingly give myself to be excited by the sight of handsome young men with plaids and claymores, and all the alertness and spirit of Highlanders in their native garb.

There was the usual degree of excitation--excellent dancing, capital songs, a general inclination to please and to be pleased. A severe cold, caught on the battlements of the Castle, prevented me from playing first fiddle so well as usual, but what I could do was received with the usual partiality of the Celts. I got home, fatigued and _vino gravatus_, about eleven o'clock. We had many guests, some of whom, English officers, seemed both amused and surprised at our wild ways, especially at the dancing without ladies, and the mode of drinking favourite toasts, by springing up with one foot on the bench and one on the table, and the peculiar shriek of applause so unlike English cheering.

_March_ 10.--This may be a short day in the diary, though a busy one to me. I arranged books and papers in the morning, and went to Court after breakfast, where, as Sir Robert Dundas and I had the whole business to discharge, I remained till two or three. Then visited Cadell, and transacted some pecuniary matters.

_March_ 11, [_Abbotsford_].--I had, as usual, a sort of levee the day I was to leave town, all petty bills and petty business being reserved to the last by those who might as well have applied any one day of the present month. But I need not complain of what happens to my betters, for on the last day of the Session there pours into the Court a succession of trifles which give the Court, and especially the Clerks, much trouble, insomuch that a _ci-devant_ brother of mine proposed that the last day of the Session should be abolished by Statute. We got out of Court at a quarter-past one, and got to Abbotsford at half-past seven, cold and hungry enough to make Scots broth, English roast beef, and a large fire very acceptable.

_March_ 12.--I set apart this day for trifles and dawdling; yet I meditate doing something on the Popish and Protestant affray. I think I could do some good, and I have the sincere wish to do it. I heard the merry birds sing, reviewed my dogs, and was cheerful. I also unpacked books. Deuce take arrangement! I think it the most complete bore in the world; but I will try a little of it. I afterwards went out and walked till dinner-time. I read Reginald Heber's Journal[272] after dinner. I spent some merry days with him at Oxford when he was writing his prize poem. He was then a gay young fellow, a wit, and a satirist, and burning for literary fame. My laurels were beginning to bloom, and we were both madcaps. Who would have foretold our future lot?

"Oh, little did my mither ken The day she cradled me The land I was to travel in, Or the death I was to die."[273]

_March_ 13.--Wrought at a review of Fraser Tytler's _History of Scotland_. It is somewhat saucy towards Lord Hailes. I had almost stuck myself into the controversy Slough of Despond--the controversy, that is, between the Gothic and Celtic system--but cast myself, like Christian, with a strong struggle or two to the further side of this Slough; and now will I walk on my way rejoicing--not on my article, however, but to the fields. Came home and rejoiced at dinner. After tea I worked a little more. I began to warm in my gear, and am about to awake the whole controversy of Goth and Celt. I wish I may not make some careless blunders.[274]

_March_ 14.--Up at eight, rather of the latest--then f.a.gged at my review, both before and after breakfast. I walked from one o'clock till near three. I make it out, I think, rather better than of late I have been able to do in the streets of Edinburgh, where I am ashamed to walk so slow as would suit me. Indeed nothing but a certain suspicion, that once drawn up on the beach I would soon break up, prevents me renouncing pedestrian exercises altogether, for it is positive suffering, and of an acute kind too.

_March_ 15.--Altogether like yesterday. Wrote in the morning--breakfasted--wrote again till one--out and walked about two hours--to the quills once more--dinner--smoked a brace of cigars and looked on the fire--a page of writing, and so to bed.

_March_ 16.--Day sullen and bitter cold. I fear it brings chilblains on its wings. A das.h.i.+ng of snow, in thin flakes, wandering from the horizon, and threatening a serious fall. As the murderer says to Banquo, "Let it come down!"--we shall have the better chance of fair weather hereafter. It cleared up, however, and I walked from one, or thereabout, till within a quarter of four. A card from Mr. Dempster of Skibo,[275]

whose uncle, George Dempster, I knew many years since, a friend of Johnson, Sir Joshua Reynolds, and all that set--a fine good-humoured old gentleman. Young Mrs. Dempster is a daughter of my early friend and patron, Robert Dundas of Arniston, Lord Advocate, and I like her for his sake. Mr. Dempster is hunting, and I should have liked to have given his wife and sister refuge during the time he must spend over moss and moor.

But the two Annes going to Edinburgh to a fancy ball makes it impossible till they return on Friday night.

_March_ 17.--The Annes went off at eight, morning. After breakfast I drove down to Melrose and waited on Mrs. and Miss Dempster, and engaged them for Sat.u.r.day. Weather bitter cold; yea, atrociously so.

Naboclish--the better for work. Ladies whose husbands love fox-hunting are in a poor way. Here are two pleasant and pretty women pegged up the whole day

"In the worst inn's worst room"[276]

for the whole twenty-four hours without interruption. They manage the matter otherwise in France, where ladies are the lords of the ascendant.

I returned from my visit to my solitary work and solitary meal. I eked out the last two hours' length by dint of smoking, which I find a sedative without being a stimulant.

_March_ 18.--I like the hermit life indifferent well, nor would, I sometimes think, break my heart, were I to be in that magic mountain where food was regularly supplied by ministering genii,[277] and plenty of books were accessible without the least intervention of human society. But this is thinking like a fool. Solitude is only agreeable when the power of having society is removed to a short s.p.a.ce, and can be commanded at pleasure. "It is not good for man to be alone." It blunts our faculties and freezes our active virtues. And now, my watch pointing to noon, I think after four hours' work I may indulge myself with a walk. The dogs see me about to shut my desk, and intimate their happiness by caresses and whining. By your leave, Messrs. Genii of the Mountain library, if I come to your retreat I'll bring my dogs with me.

The day was showery, but not unpleasant--soft dropping rains, attended by a mild atmosphere, that spoke of flowers in their seasons, and a chirping of birds that had a touch of Spring in it. I had the patience to get fully wet, and the grace to be thankful for it.

Come! a leetle flourish on the trumpet. Let us rouse the genius of this same red mountain, so called because it is all the year covered with roses. There can be no difficulty in finding it, for it lies towards the Caspian, and is quoted in the Persian tales. Well, I open my Ephemerides, form my scheme under the suitable planet, and the genie obeys the invocation and appears.

Genie is a misshapen dwarf, with a huge jolter-head like that of Boerhave on the Bridge,[278] his limbs and body marvellously shrunk and disproportioned.

"Sir Dwarf," said I, undauntedly, "thy head is very large, and thy feet and limbs somewhat small in proportion."

_Genie_. "I have crammed my head, even to the overflowing, with knowledge; I have starved my limbs by disuse of exercise and denial of sustenance!"

_Author_. "Can I acquire wisdom in thy solitary library?"

_G_. "Thou mayest!"

_A_. "On what conditions?"

_G_. "Renounce all gross and fleshly pleasure, eat pulse and drink water, converse with none but the wise and learned, alive and dead!"

_A_. "Why, this were to die in the cause of wisdom."

_G_. "If you desire to draw from our library only the advantage of seeming wise, you may have it consistent with all your favourite enjoyments!"

_A_. "How much sleep?"

_G_. "A Lapland night--eight months out of the twelve!"

_A_. "Enough for a dormouse, most generous Genius.--A bottle of wine?"

_G_. "Two, if you please; but you must not seem to care for them--cigars in loads, whisky in las.h.i.+ngs; but they must be taken with an air of contempt, a _flocc.i.p.aucinihilipilification_ of all that can gratify the outward man."

_A_. "I am about to ask you a serious question--When you have stuffed your stomach, drunk your bottle, smoked your cigar, how are you to keep yourself awake?"

_G_. "Either by cephalic snuff or castle-building!"

_A._ "Do you approve of castle-building as a frequent exercise?"

_G._ "Life were not life without it!

'Give me the joy that sickens not the heart, Give me the wealth that has no wings to fly.'"

_A._ "I reckon myself one of the best aerial architects now living, and _nil me paenitet hujus_."

_G._ "_Nec est cur te paeniteat_; most of your novels have previously been subjects for airy castles."

_A._ "You have me--and moreover a man of imagination derives experience from such imaginary situations. There are few situations in which I have not in fancy figured, and there are few, of course, which I am not previously prepared to take some part in."

_G._ "True, but I am afraid your having fancied yourself victorious in many a fight would be of little use were you suddenly called to the field, and your personal infirmities and nervous agitations both rus.h.i.+ng upon you and incapacitating you."

_A._ "My nervous agitations!--away with thee! Down, down to Limbo and the burning lake! False fiend, avoid!"

So there ends the tale, With a hey, with a hoy, So there ends the tale, With a ho.

There is a moral. If you fail To seize it by the tail, Its import will exhale, You must know.

_March_ 19.--The above was written yesterday before dinner, though appearances are to the contrary. I only meant that the studious solitude I have sometimes dreamed of, unless practised with rare stoicism and privation, was apt to degenerate into secret sensual indulgences of coa.r.s.er appet.i.tes, which, when the cares and restraints of social life are removed, are apt to make us think, with Dr. Johnson, our dinner the most important event of the day. So much in the way of explanation--a humour which I love not. Go to.

My girls returned from Edinburgh with full news of their _bal pare_.

_March_ 20.--We spent this day on the same terms as formerly. I wrought, walked, dined, drank, and smoked upon the same pattern.