The Journal of Sir Walter Scott Part 7

_January 6_.--This seems to be a feeding storm, coming on by little and little. Wrought all day, and dined quiet. My disorder is wearing off, and the quiet society of the Skenes suits with my present humour. I really thought I was in for some very bad illness. Curious expression of an Indian-born boy just come from Bengal, a son of my cousin George Swinton. The child saw a hare run across the fields, and exclaimed, "See, there is a little tiger!"

_January_ 7, _Sunday_.--Knight, a young artist, son of the performer, came to paint my picture at the request of Terry. This is very far from being agreeable, as I submitted to this distressing state of constraint last year to Newton, at request of Lockhart; to Leslie at request of my American friend;[112] to Wilkie, for his picture of the King's arrival at Holyrood House; and some one besides. I am as tired of the operation as old Maida, who had been so often sketched that he got up and went away with signs of loathing whenever he saw an artist unfurl his paper and handle his brushes. But this young man is civil and modest; and I have agreed he shall sit in the room while I work, and take the best likeness he can, without compelling me into fixed att.i.tudes or the yawning fatigues of an actual sitting. I think, if he has talent, he may do more my way than in the customary mode; at least I can't have the hang-dog look which the unfortunate Theseus has who is doomed to sit for what seems an eternity.[113]

I wrought till two o'clock--indeed till I was almost nervous with correcting and scribbling. I then walked, or rather was dragged, through the snow by Tom Purdie, while Skene accompanied. What a blessing there is in a man like Tom, whom no familiarity can spoil, whom you may scold and praise and joke with, knowing the quality of the man is unalterable in his love and reverence to his master. Use an ordinary servant in the same way and he will be your master in a month. We should thank G.o.d for the snow as well as summer flowers. This brushing exercise has put all my nerves into tone again, which were really jarred with fatigue until my very backbone seemed breaking. This comes of trying to do too much.

J.B.'s news are as good as possible.--Prudence, prudence, and all will do excellently.

_January_ 8.--Frost and snow still. Write to excuse myself from attending the funeral of my aunt, Mrs. Curle, which takes place to-morrow at Kelso. She was a woman of the old Sandy-Knowe breed, with the strong sense, high principle, and indifferent temper which belonged to my father's family. She lived with great credit on a moderate income, and, I believe, gave away a great deal of it.[114]

_January_ 9.--Mathews the comedian and his son came to spend a day at Abbotsford. The last is a clever young man, with much of his father's talent for mimicry. Rather forward though.[115] Mr. Scrope also came out, which fills our house.

_January_ 10.--Bodily health, the mainspring of the microcosm, seems quite restored. No more flinching or nervous fits, but the sound mind in the sound body. What poor things does a fever-fit or an overflowing of the bile make of the masters of creation!

The snow begins to fall thick this morning--

"The landlord then aloud did say, As how he wished they would go away."

To have our friends shut up here would be rather too much of a good thing.

The day cleared up and was very pleasant. Had a good walk and looked at the curling. Mr. Mathews made himself very amusing in the evening. He has the good-nature to show his accomplishments without pressing, and without the appearance of feeling pain. On the contrary, I dare say he enjoys the pleasure he communicates.

_January_ 11.--I got proof-sheets, in which it seems I have repeated a whole pa.s.sage of history which had been told before. James is in an awful stew, and I cannot blame him; but then he should consider the _hyoscyamus_ which I was taking, and the anxious botheration about the money-market. However, as Chaucer says:--

"There is na workeman That can bothe worken wel and hastilie; This must be done at leisure parfitly."[116]

_January_ 12.--Mathews last night gave us a very perfect imitation of old c.u.mberland, who carried the poetic jealousy and irritability further than any man I ever saw. He was a great flatterer too, the old rogue.

Will Erskine used to admire him. I think he wanted originality. A very high-bred man in point of manners in society.

My little artist, Knight, gets on better with his portrait--the features are, however, too pinched, I think.

Upon the whole, the days pa.s.s pleasantly enough--work till one or two, then an hour or two's walk in the snow, then lighter work, or reading.

Late dinner, and singing or chat in the evening. Mathews has really all the will, as well as the talent, to be amusing. He confirms my idea of ventriloquism (which is an absurd word), as being merely the art of imitating sounds at a greater or less distance, a.s.sisted by some little points of trick to influence the imagination of the audience--the vulgar idea of a peculiar organisation (beyond fineness of ear and of utterance) is nonsense.

_January_ 13.--Our party are about to disperse--

"Like youthful steers unyoked, east, north, and south."[117]

I am not sorry, being one of those whom too much mirth always inclines to sadness. The missing so many of my own family, together with the serious inconveniences to which I have been exposed, gave me at present a desire to be alone. The Skenes return to Edinburgh, so does Mr.

Scrope--_item_, the little artist; Mathews to Newcastle; his son to Liverpool. So _exeunt omnes._[118]

Mathews a.s.sures me that Sheridan was generally very dull in society, and sate sullen and silent, swallowing gla.s.s after gla.s.s, rather a hindrance than a help. But there was a time when he broke out with a resumption of what had been going on, done with great force, and generally attacking some person in the company, or some opinion which he had expressed. I never saw Sheridan but in large parties. He had a Bardolph countenance, with heavy features, but his eye possessed the most distinguished brilliancy. Mathews says it is very simple in Tom Moore to admire how Sheridan came by the means of paying the price of Drury Lane Theatre, when all the world knows he never paid it at all; and that Lacy, who sold it, was reduced to want by his breach of faith.[119] Dined quiet with Anne, Lady Scott, and Gordon.

_January_ 14.--An odd mysterious letter from Constable, who is gone post to London, to put something to rights which is wrong betwixt them, their banker, and another moneyed friend. It strikes me to be that sort of letter which I have seen men write when they are desirous that their disagreeable intelligence should be rather apprehended than avowed. I thought he had been in London a fortnight ago, disposing of property to meet this exigence, and so I think he should. Well, I must have patience. But these terrors and frights are truly annoying. Luckily the funny people are gone, and I shall not have the task of grinning when I am serious enough. Dined as yesterday.

A letter from J.B. mentioning Constable's journey, but without expressing much, if any, apprehension. He knows C. well, and saw him before his departure, and makes no doubt of his being able easily to extricate whatever may be entangled. I will not, therefore, make myself uneasy. I can help doing so surely, if I will. At least, I have given up cigars since the year began, and have now no wish to return to the habit, as it is called. I see no reason why one should not be able to vanquish, with G.o.d's a.s.sistance, these noxious thoughts which foretell evil but cannot remedy it.

_January_ 15.--Like yesterday, a hard frost. Thermometer at 10; water in my dressing-room frozen to flint; yet I had a fine walk yesterday, the sun dancing delightfully on "grim Nature's visage h.o.a.r."[120] Were it not the plague of being dragged along by another person, I should like such weather as well as summer; but having Tom Purdie to do this office reconciles me to it. _I cannot cleik with John_, as old Mrs. Mure [of Caldwell] used to say. I mean, that an ordinary menial servant thus hooked to your side reminds me of the twin bodies mentioned by Pitscottie, being two trunks on the same waist and legs. One died before the other, and remained a dead burden on the back of its companion.[121]

Such is close union with a person whom you cannot well converse with, and whose presence is yet indispensable to your getting on. An actual companion, whether humble or your equal, is still worse. But Tom Purdie is just the thing, kneaded up between the friend and servant, as well as Uncle Toby's bowling-green between sand and clay. You are certain he is proud as well as patient under his burthen, and you are under no more constraint than with a pony. I must ride him to-day if the weather holds up. Meantime I will correct that curious fellow Pepys' Diary,--I mean the article I have made of it for the _Quarterly_.

_Edinburgh, January_ 16.--Came through cold roads to as cold news. Hurst and Robinson have suffered a bill of 1000 to come back upon Constable, which I suppose infers the ruin of both houses. We shall soon see.

Constable, it seems, who was to have set off in the last week of December, dawdled here till in all human probability his going or staying became a matter of mighty little consequence. He could not be there till Monday night, and his resources must have come too late.

Dined with the Skenes.[122]

_January_ 17.--James Ballantyne this morning--good honest fellow, with a visage as black as the crook.[123] He hopes no salvation; has indeed taken measures to stop. It is hard, after having fought such a battle.

Have apologised for not attending the Royal Society Club, who have a _gaudeamus_ on this day, and seemed to count much on my being the preses.

My old acquaintance, Miss Elizabeth Clerk, sister of Willie, died suddenly. I cannot choose but wish it had been S.W.S., and yet the feeling is unmanly. I have Anne, my wife, and Charles to look after. I felt rather sneaking as I came home from the Parliament House--felt as if I were liable _monstrari digito_ in no very pleasant way. But this must be borne _c.u.m caeteris_; and, thank G.o.d, however uncomfortable, I do not feel despondent.

I have seen Cadell, Ballantyne, and Hogarth. All advise me to execute a trust of my property for payment of my obligations. So does John Gibson,[124] and so I resolve to do. My wife and daughter are gloomy, but yet patient. I trust by my hold on the works to make it every man's interest to be very gentle with me. Cadell makes it plain that by prudence they will, in six months, realise 20,000, which can be attainable by no effort of their own.

_January_ 18.--He that sleeps too long in the morning, let him borrow the pillow of a debtor. So says the Spaniard, and so say I. I had of course an indifferent night of it. I wish these two days were over; but the worst _is_ over. The Bank of Scotland has behaved very well; expressing a resolution to serve Constable's house and me to the uttermost; but as no one can say to what extent Hurst and Robinson's failure may go, borrowing would but linger it out.

_January_ 19.--During yesterday I received formal visits from my friends, Skene and Colin Mackenzie (who, I am glad to see, looks well), with every offer of service. The Royal Bank also sent Sir John Hope and Sir Henry Jardine[125] to offer to comply with my wishes. The Advocate came on the same errand. But I gave all the same answer--that my intention was to put the whole into the hands of a trustee, and to be contented with the event, and that all I had to ask was time to do so, and to extricate my affairs. I was a.s.sured of every accommodation in this way. From all quarters I have had the same kindness. Letters from Constable and Robinson have arrived. The last persist in saying they will pay all and everybody. They say, moreover, in a postscript, that had Constable been in town ten days sooner, all would have been well.

When I saw him on 24th December, he proposed starting in three days, but dallied, G.o.d knows why, in a kind of infatuation, I think, till things had got irretrievably wrong. There would have been no want of support then, and his stock under his own management would have made a return immensely greater than it can under any other. _Now_ I fear the loss must be great, as his fall will involve many of the country dealers who traded with him.

I feel quite composed and determined to labour. There is no remedy. I _guess_ (as Mathews makes his Yankees say) that we shall not be troubled with visitors, and I _calculate_ that I will not go out at all; so what can I do better than labour? Even yesterday I went about making notes on _Waverley_, according to Constable's plan. It will do good one day.

To-day, when I lock this volume, I go to W[oodstock]. Heigho!

Knight came to stare at me to complete his portrait. He must have read a tragic page, compared to what he saw at Abbotsford.[126]

We dined of course at home, and before and after dinner I finished about twenty printed pages of _Woodstock_, but to what effect others must judge. A painful scene after dinner, and another after supper, endeavouring to convince these poor dear creatures that they must not look for miracles, but consider the misfortune as certain, and only to be lessened by patience and labour.

_January_ 20.--Indifferent night--very bilious, which may be want of exercise. A letter from Sir J. Sinclair, whose absurd vanity bids him thrust his finger into every man's pie, proposing that Hurst and Robinson should sell their prints, of which he says they have a large collection, by way of lottery like Boydell.

"In scenes like these which break our heart Comes Punch, like you and----"

_Mais pourtant, cultivons notre jardin_. The public favour is my only lottery. I have long enjoyed the foremost prize, and something in my breast tells me my evil genius will not overwhelm me if I stand by myself. Why should I not? I have no enemies--many attached friends. The popular ascendency which I have maintained is of the kind which is rather improved by frequent appearances before the public. In fact, critics may say what they will, but "_hain_ your reputation, and _tyne_ your reputation," is a true proverb.[127]

Sir William Forbes called--the same kind, honest friend as ever, with all offers of a.s.sistance,[128] etc. etc. All anxious to serve me, and careless about their own risk of loss. And these are the cold, hard, money-making men whose questions and control I apprehended.

Lord Chief Commissioner Adam also came to see me, and the meeting, though pleasing, was melancholy. It is the first time we have met since the _break up_ of his hopes in the death of his eldest son on his return from India, where he was Chief in Council and highly esteemed.[129] The Commissioner is not a very early friend of mine, for I scarce knew him till his settlement in Scotland with his present office.[130] But I have since lived much with him, and taken kindly to him as one of the most pleasant, kind-hearted, benevolent, and pleasing men I have ever known.

It is high treason among the Tories to express regard for him, or respect for the Jury Court in which he presides. I was against that experiment as much as any one. But it is an experiment, and the establishment (which the fools will not perceive) is the only thing which I see likely to give some prospects of ambition to our bar, which has been otherwise so much diminished. As for the Chief Commissioner, I dare say he jobs, as all other people of consequence do, in elections, and so forth. But he is the personal friend of the King, and the decided enemy of whatever strikes at the const.i.tutional rights of the Monarch.

Besides, I love him for the various changes which he has endured through life, and which have been so great as to make him ent.i.tled to be regarded in one point of view as the most fortunate--in the other, the most unfortunate--man in the world. He has gained and lost two fortunes by the same good luck, and the same rash confidence, which raised, and now threatens, my _peculium_. And his quiet, honourable, and generous submission under circ.u.mstances more painful than mine,--for the loss of world's wealth was to him aggravated by the death of his youngest and darling son in the West Indies,--furnished me at the time and now with a n.o.ble example. So the Tories and Whigs may go be d----d together, as names that have disturbed old Scotland, and torn asunder the most kindly feelings since the first day they were invented. Yes, ----- them, they are spells to rouse all our angry pa.s.sions, and I dare say, notwithstanding the opinion of my private and calm moments, I will open on the cry again so soon as something occurs to chafe my mood; and yet, G.o.d knows, I would fight in honourable contest with word or blow for my political opinions; but I cannot permit that strife to "mix its waters with my daily meal," those waters of bitterness which poison all mutual love and confidence betwixt the well-disposed on either side, and prevent them, if need were, from making mutual concessions and balancing the const.i.tution against the ultras of both parties. The good man seems something broken by these afflictions.

_January_ 21.--Susannah in _Tristram Shandy_ thinks death is best met in bed. I am sure trouble and vexation are not. The watches of the night pa.s.s wearily when disturbed by fruitless regrets and disagreeable antic.i.p.ations. But let it pa.s.s.

"Well, Goodman Time, or blunt, or keen, Move thou quick, or take thy leisure, Longest day will have its e'en, Weariest life but treads a measure."

I have seen Cadell, who is very much downcast for the risk of their copyrights being thrown away by a hasty sale. I suggested that if they went very cheap, some means might be fallen on to keep up their value or purchase them in. I fear the split betwixt Constable and Cadell will render impossible what might otherwise be hopeful enough. It is the Italian race-horses, I think, which, instead of riders, have spurs tied to their sides, so as to p.r.i.c.k them into a constant gallop. Cadell tells me their gross profit was sometimes 10,000 a year, but much swallowed up with expenses, and his partner's draughts, which came to 4000 yearly. What there is to show for this, G.o.d knows. Constable's apparent expenses were very much within bounds.

Colin Mackenzie entered, and with his usual kindness engages to use his influence to recommend some moderate proceeding to Constable's creditors, such as may permit him to go on and turn that species of property to account, which no man alive can manage so well as he.

Followed Mr. Gibson with a most melancholy tale. Things are so much worse with Constable than I apprehended that I shall neither save Abbotsford nor anything else. Naked we entered the world, and naked we leave it--blessed be the name of the Lord!

_January_ 22.--I feel neither dishonoured nor broken down by the bad--now really bad news I have received. I have walked my last on the domains I have planted--sate the last time in the halls I have built.

But death would have taken them from me if misfortune had spared them.

My poor people whom I loved so well! There is just another die to turn up against me in this run of ill-luck; _i.e._ if I should break my magic wand in the fall from this elephant, and lose my popularity with my fortune. Then _Woodstock_ and _Bony_ may both go to the paper-maker, and I may take to smoking cigars and drinking grog, or turn devotee, and intoxicate the brain another way. In prospect of absolute ruin, I wonder if they would let me leave the Court of Session. I would like, methinks, to go abroad,

"And lay my bones far from the _Tweed_."