The Journal of Sir Walter Scott Part 88

[414] _aeneid_ v. 194-7: thus rendered in English by Professor Conington:--

'Tis not the palm that Mnestheus seeks: No hope of Victory fires his cheeks: Yet, O that thought!--but conquer they To whom great Neptune wills the day: Not to be last make that your aim, And triumph by averting shame.

[415] _King Richard the Third_, Act IV. Sc. 2.

[416] Mr. G.P.R. James, author of _Richelieu_, etc. He afterwards took Maxpopple for the season.

[417] Mr. Skene tells us that when No. 39 Castle Street was "displenished" in 1826, Scott sent him the full-length portrait of himself by Raeburn, now at Abbotsford, saying that he did not hesitate to claim his protection for the picture, which was threatened to be paraded under the hammer of the auctioneer, and he felt that his interposition to turn aside that buffet might admit of being justified.

"As a piece of successful art, many might fancy the acquisition, but for the sake of the original he knew no refuge where it was likely to find a truer welcome. The picture accordingly remained many years in my possession, but when his health had begun to break, and the plan of his going abroad was proposed, I thought it would be proper to return the picture, for which purpose I had a most successful copy made of it, an absolute facsimile, for when the two were placed beside each, other it was almost impossible to determine which was the original and which the copy."--_Reminiscences_. Thus forestalling the wish expressed in the affecting letter now given, which belongs to this day. See _ante_, vol.

i. p. 136 _n_.

"MY DEAR SKENE,--I have had no very pleasant news to send you, as I know it will give Mrs. Skene and you pain to know that I am suffering under a hundred little ailments which have greatly encroached upon the custom of the season which I used to take. On this I could say much, but it is better to leave alone what must be said with painful feeling, and you would be vexed with reading.

"One thing I will put to rights with all others respecting my little personal affairs. I am putting [in order] this house with what it contains, and as Walter will probably be anxious to have a memorial of my better days, I intend to beg you and my dear Mrs. Skene ... to have it [the picture] copied by such an artist as you should approve of, to supply the blank which must then be made on your hospitable walls with the shadow of a shade. If the opportunity should occur of copying the picture to your mind, I will be happy to have the copy as soon as possible. You must not think that I am nervous or foolishly apprehensive that I take these precautions. They are necessary and right, and if one puts off too long, we sometimes are unfit for the task when we desire to take it up....

"When the weather becomes milder, I hope Mrs. Skene and you, and some of the children, will come out to brighten the chain of friends.h.i.+p with your truly faithful,

WALTER SCOTT.

"ABBOTSFORD, 16 _January_ 1831."

[418] Sir W. alludes to Mrs. Piozzi's Tale of _The Three Warnings_.--J.G.L.

[419] _Macbeth_, Act I. Sc. 3.

[420] Eccles. xii. 3.

[421] Crabbe's _Borough_, Letter xiii.--J.G.L.

[422] See _Pirate_.

[423] The deer-hound Bran which was presented by Macpherson of Cluny; Nimrod was Glengarry's gift.--See letter to Miss Edgeworth, printed in _Life_, vol. ix. p. 345.

[424] I _Henry IV_., Act II. Sc. 3.

[425] No. 1 Castle Street.

[426] "His host perceived that he was unfit for any company but the quietest, and had sometimes one old friend, Mr. Thomson, Mr. Clerk, or Mr. Skene to dinner, but no more. He seemed glad to see them, but they all observed him with pain. He never took the lead in conversation, and often remained altogether silent. In the mornings he wrote usually for several hours at _Count Robert_; and Mr. Cadell remembers in particular, that on Ballantyne's reminding him that a motto was wanted for one of the chapters already finished, he looked out for a moment at the gloomy weather, and penned these lines--

'The storm increases--'tis no sunny shower, Foster'd in the moist breast of March or April, Or such as parched summer cools his lips with.

Heaven's windows are flung wide; the inmost deeps Call in hoa.r.s.e greeting one upon another; On comes the flood in all its foaming horrors, And where's the d.y.k.e shall stop it?'"--_The Deluge--a Poem_.

--_Life_, vol. x. p. 37.

[427] A skilful mechanist, who, by a clever piece of handiwork, gave Sir Walter great relief, but only for a brief period.--_Life_, vol. x, p.

38.

FEBRUARY.

_February_ 9,_[Abbotsford]._--A heavy and most effective thaw coming on I got home about five at night, and found the haugh covered with water, dogs, pigs, cows, to say nothing of human beings, all who slept at the offices in danger of being drowned. They came up to the mansion-house about midnight, with such various clamour, that Anne thought the house was attacked by Captain Swing and all the Radicals.

_February_ 10.--I set to work with Mr. Laidlaw, and had after that a capital ride; my pony, little used, was somewhat frisky, but I rode on to Huntly Burn. Began my diet on my new regime, and like it well, especially porridge to supper. It is wonderful how old tastes rise.

_February_ 11.--Wrought again to-day, and John Swanston walked with me.

Wrote many letters, and sent copy to Ballantyne. Rode as usual. It is well enough to ride every day, but confoundedly tiresome to write it down.

_February_ 13.--I did not ask down Mr. Laidlaw, thinking it fair to spare his Sunday. I had a day of putting to rights, a disagreeable work which must be done. I took the occasion to tell Mr. Cadell that _Malachi_ will break forth again; but I will not make a point of it with him. I do not fear there will be as many to strike up as to strike down, and I have a strong notion we may gain the day. I have a letter from the d.u.c.h.ess of Wellington, asking a copy of Melville's Memoirs. She shall have it if it were my last.

_February_ 14.--I had hardly begun my letter to Mr. Cadell than I began also to "pull in resolution."[428] I considered that I had no means of retreat; and that in all my sober moments, meaning my unpa.s.sionate ones, for the doctors have taken from me the means of producing Dutch courage, I have looked on political writing as a false step, and especially now when I have a good deal at stake. So, upon the whole, I cancelled the letter announcing the publication. If this was actually meanness it is a foible n.o.body knows of. Anne set off for Edinburgh after breakfast. Poor girl, she is very nervous. I wrote with Mr. L. till one--then had a walk till three--then wrote this diary till four. Must try to get something for Mr. Laidlaw, for I am afraid I am twaddling. I do not think my head is weakened, but a strange vacillation makes me suspect. Is it not thus that men begin to fail, becoming, as it were, infirm of purpose,

"... that way madness lies; let me shun that: No more of that ..."[429]

Yet, why be a child about it? what must be, will be.

_February_ 15.--I wrote and corrected through the long day till one o'clock; then rode out as far as Dr. Scott's, and called on him. Got a fresh dose of proofs at Mathieson's, and returned home. At nine o'clock at night had a card from Miss Bell [Maclachlan], wis.h.i.+ng to speak to me about some Highland music. Wrote for answer I knew nothing of the matter, but would be happy to see Mrs. and Miss Bell to breakfast. I had a letter of introduction by Robert Chambers, which I declined, being then unwell. But as Trotter of Braid said, "The ladies maun come."

_February_ 16.--Mrs. and Miss Bell Maclachlan of the West Highlands, mother and daughter, made their way to me to breakfast. I did not wish to see them, being strangers; but she is very pretty--that is, the daughter--and enthusiastic, and that is always flattering to an old gentleman. She wishes to have words to Celtic melodies, and I have promised her some, to the air of Crochallan, and incline to do her good, perhaps, to the extent of getting her words from Lord Francis Leveson Gower, Lockhart, and one or two others. We parted, she pleased with my willing patronage, and I with an uncommon handsome countenance she showed me.

This detained Mr. Laidlaw _re infecta_, and before I had written a page the pony came to the door; but wrote something after dinner.

_February_ 17 and 18.--We had the usual course of food, study, and exercise in the forenoon. Was extremely sleepy in the afternoon, which made, I fear, but bad work. We progress, however. In riding met Sir Adam Ferguson, and asked him and his brother the Colonel to dinner to-morrow.

Wrote in the meantime as usual.

_February_ 19.--Plagued by the stay for leg starting a screw bolt, which is very inconvenient. Sent off, this morning, proofs as far as end of first volume, and 20 ma.n.u.script pages, equal to about a quarter of the second. Is it good or not? I cannot say. I think it better as it goes on; and so far so good. I am certain I have written worse abomination, as John Ballantyne, poor fellow, used to say.

_February_ 20.--Wrote five pages this morning; then rode out to the hill and looked at some newly planted, rather transplanted, trees. Mr.

Laidlaw gone for the day. I trust I shall have proofs to correct. In the meantime I may suck my paws and prepare some copy, or rather a.s.semble the raw material.

_February_ 21.--I made up parcels by mail-coach and Blucher to go to-morrow--second volume _Redgauntlet_. At one fetched a walk through wet and dry, looking at the ravages of the late flood. After I came in, till two hours after tea-time, busied with the Sheriff Court processes, which I have nearly finished. After this I will lounge over my annotating. The _Tales of the Crusades_ come next.

_February_ 22.--Wrought with Mr. L. from ten to three, then took the pony carriage, with the purpose of going to Chiefswood, but a heavy squall came on with snow, so we put about-s.h.i.+p and returned. Read Lyttelton's _History of England_ to get some notes for _Crusaders_, vol.

i. After dinner Mr. Laidlaw from six to eight. Sent off six pages.

_February_ 23, 24, 25.--These three days I can hardly be said to have varied from my ordinary.

Rose at seven, dressed before eight, wrote letters, or did any little business till a quarter past nine. Then breakfast. Mr. Laidlaw comes from ten till one. Then take the pony, and ride _quantum mutatus_ two or three miles, John Swanston walking by my bridle-rein lest I fall off.

Come home about three or four. Then to dinner on a single plain dish and half a tumbler, or by'r lady three-fourths of a tumbler, of whisky and water. Then sit till six o'clock, when enter Mr. Laidlaw again, and work commonly till eight. After this, work usually alone till half-past nine, then sup on porridge and milk, and so to bed. The work is half done. If any [one] asks what time I take to think on the composition, I might say, in one point of view, it was seldom five minutes out of my head the whole day. In another light, it was never the serious subject of consideration at all, for it never occupied my thoughts entirely for five minutes together, except when I was dictating to Mr. Laidlaw.

_February_ 26.--Went through the same routine, only, being Sat.u.r.day, Mr.

Laidlaw does not come in the evening. I think there is truth in the well-known phrase, _Aurora musis amica_. I always have a visit of invention between six and seven--that is, if anything has been plaguing me, in the way of explanation, I find it in my head when I wake. I have need of it to-night.