did. I wrote in the evening three pages, and tolerably well, though I

may say with the Emperor Titus (not Titus Oates) that I have lost a day.

_June_ 18, _[Blair-Adam]_.--Young John Colquhoun of Killermont and his wife breakfasted with us,--a neat custom that, and saves wine and wassail. Then to Court, and arranged for our departure for Blair-Adam, it being near midsummer when the club meets. Anne with me, and Sir Adam Ferguson. The day was execrable. Our meeting at Blair-Adam was cordial, but our numbers diminished; the good and very clever Lord Chief Baron[376] is returned to his own country, with more regrets than in Scotland usually attend a stranger. Will Clerk has a bad cold, [Thomas] Thomson is detained, but the Chief Commissioner, Admiral Adam, Sir Adam, John Thomson and I, make an excellent concert. I only hope our venerable host will not fatigue himself. To-morrow we go to Culross, which Sir Robert Preston is repairing, and the wise are asking for whose future enjoyment. He is upwards of ninety, but still may enjoy the bustle of life.

_June_ 19.--Arose and expected to work a little, but a friend's house is not favourable; you are sure to want the book you have not brought, and are in short out of sorts, like the minister who could not preach out of his own pulpit. There is something fanciful in this, and something real too, and I have forgot my watch and left half my glasses at home.

Off we set at half-past eight o'clock, Lord Chief Commissioner being left at home owing to a cold. We breakfasted at Luscar, a place belonging to Adam Rolland, but the gout had arrested him at Edinburgh, so we were hospitably received by his family. The weather most unpropitious, very cold and rainy. After breakfast to Culross, where the veteran, Sir Robert Preston,[377] showed us his curiosities. Life has done as much for him as most people. In his ninety-second year he has an ample fortune, a sound understanding, not the least decay of eyes, ears, or taste; is as big as two men, and eats like three. Yet he too experiences the _singula prædantur anni_, and has lost something since I last saw him. If his appearance renders old age tolerable, it does not make it desirable. But I fear when death comes we shall be unwilling for all that to part with our bundle of sticks. Sir Robert amuses himself with repairing the old House of Culross, built by the Lord Bruce of Kinloss. To what use it is destined is not very evident to me. It is too near his own comfortable mansion of Valleyfield to be useful as a residence, if indeed it could be formed into a comfortable modern house. But it is rather like a banqueting house. Well, he follows his own fancy. We had a sumptuous cold dinner. Adam grieves it was not hot, so little can war and want break a man to circumstances. We returned to Blair-Adam in the evening, through "the wind but and the rain." For June weather it is the most ungenial I have seen. The beauty of Culross consists in magnificent terraces rising on the sea-beach, and commanding the opposite shore of Lothian; the house is repairing in the style of James the Sixth. The windows have pediments like Heriot's Work.[378] There are some fine relics of the old Monastery, with large Saxon arches. At Luscar I saw with pleasure the painting by Raeburn, of my old friend Adam Rolland, Esq.,[379] who was in the external circumstances, but not in frolic or fancy, my prototype for Paul Pleydell.[380]

_June_ 20.--We settled this morning to go to church at Lochore, that is, at Ballingray; but when we came to the earthly paradise so called, we were let off for there was no sermon, for which I could not in my heart be sorry. So, after looking at Lochore, back we came to lounge and loiter about till dinner-time. The rest of the day was good company, good cheer, and good conversation. Yet to be idle here is not the thing, and to be busy is impossible, so I wish myself home again in spite of good entertainment. We leave to-night after an early dinner, and I will get to work again.

_June_ 21, [_Edinburgh_].--Wrote to Walter a long letter. The day continued dropping occasionally, but Sir Adam was in high fooling, and we had an amazing deal of laughing. We stole a look at the Kiery Craigs between showers. In the meantime George Cheape and his son came in. We dined at half-past three, but it was seven ere we set off, and did not reach the house in Shandwick Place till eleven at night. Thus ended our Club for the year 1830, its thirteenth anniversary. Its numbers were diminished by absence and indisposition, but its spirit was unabated.

_June_ 22.--Finished proofs and some copy in the morning. Returned at noon, and might have laboured a good day's work, but was dull, drowsy, and indolent, and could not, at least did not, write above half a page. It was a day lost, and indeed it is always with me the consequence of mental indolence for a day or two, so I had a succession of eating and dozing, which I am ashamed of, for there was nothing to hinder me but "thick-coming fancies." Pshaw, rabbit un!

_June_ 23.--Worked well this morning, and then to Court. At two called on Mr. Gibson, and find him disposed for an instalment. Cadell has £10,000, and Gibson thinks £12,000 will pay 2s. 6d. I wish it could be made three shillings, which would be £15,000.

Presided at a meeting of the Bannatyne Club. The Whigs made a strong party to admit Kennedy of Dunure, which set aside Lord Medwyn, who had been longer on the roll of candidates. If politics get into this Club it will ruin the literary purpose of the meeting, and the general good-humour with which it has gone on. I think it better to take the thing good-humouredly, and several of them volunteered to say that Medwyn must be the next, which will finish all _à l'aimable_. If it come to party-work I will cut and run. Confound it! my eyes are closing now, even _now_, at half-past four.

Dined with Lord Medwyn, a pleasant party. The guest of importance, Mrs. Peter Latouche from Dublin, a fine old dame, who must have been beautiful when young, being pleasant and comely at seventy,--saintly it appears.

_June_ 24.--Hard work with Ballantyne's proofs and revises, but got them accomplished. I am at the twelfth hour, but I think I shall finish this silly book before the tenth of July.

Notwithstanding this sage resolution I did not write half a page of the said _Demonology_ this day. I went to the Court, called on Mr. Cadell, returned dog-tired, and trifled my time with reading the trial of Corder. What seemed most singular was his love to talk of the young woman he had murdered, in such a manner as to insinuate the circumstances of his own crime, which is a kind of necessity which seems to haunt conscience-struck men. Charles Sharpe came in at night and supped with us.

_June_ 25.--Slept little later than I should. The proofs occupied the morning. The Court and walk home detained me till two. When I returned, set to work and reached page 210 of copy. There is little or nothing else to say. Skene was with me for a few minutes. I called at Cadell's also, who thinks a dividend of 3s. per pound will be made out.[381] This will be one-half of the whole debts, and leave a sinking fund for the rest about £10,000 a year "if the beast live and the branks bide hale."[382]

_June_ 26.--Miss Kemble and her father breakfasted here, with Sir Adam and Lady Ferguson. I like the young lady very much, respecting both her talents and the use she has made of them. She seems merry, unaffected, and good-humoured. She said she did not like the apathy of the Scottish audiences, who are certain not to give applause upon credit. I went to the Court, but soon returned; a bad cold in my head makes me cough and sneeze like the Dragon of Wantley. The Advocates' Bill[383] is read a third time. I hardly know whether to wish it passed or no, and am therefore _in utrumque paratus_.

_June_ 27.--In the morning worked as usual at proofs and copy of my infernal _Demonology_--a task to which my poverty and not my will consents. About twelve o'clock I went to the country to take a day's relaxation. We (i.e. Mr. Cadell, James Ballantyne, and I) went to Prestonpans, and, getting there about one, surveyed the little village, where my aunt and I were lodgers for the sake of sea-bathing in 1778, I believe. I knew the house of Mr. Warroch, where we lived,--a poor cottage, of which the owners and their family are extinct. I recollected my juvenile ideas of dignity attendant on the large gate, a black arch which lets out upon the sea. I saw the church where I yawned under the inflictions of a Dr. M'Cormick, a name in which dulness seems to have been hereditary. I saw the Links where I arranged my shells upon the turf, and swam my little skiffs in the pools. Many comparisons between the man, and the recollections of my kind aunt, of old George Constable, who, I think, dangled after her; of Dalgetty, a veteran half-pay lieutenant, who swaggered his solitary walk on the parade, as he called a little open space before the same pool. We went to Preston, and took refuge from a thunder-plump in the old tower. I remembered the little garden where I was crammed with gooseberries, and the fear I had of Blind Harry's spectre of Fawdon showing his headless trunk at one of the windows. I remembered also a very good-natured pretty girl (my Mary Duff), whom I laughed and romped with and loved as children love. She was a Miss Dalrymple, daughter of Lord Westhall,[384] a Lord of Session; was afterwards married to Anderson of Winterfield, and her daughter is now [the spouse] of my colleague Robert Hamilton. So strangely are our cards shuffled. I was a mere child, and could feel none of the passion which Byron alleges, yet the recollection of this good-humoured companion of my childhood is like that of a morning dream, nor should I now greatly like to dispel it by seeing the original, who must now be sufficiently time-honoured.

Well, we walked over the field of battle, saw the Prince's Park, Cope's Loan, marked by slaughter in his disastrous retreat, the thorn-tree which marks the centre of the battle, and all besides that was to be seen or supposed. We saw two broadswords, found on the field of battle, one a Highlander's, an Andrew Ferrara, another the dragoon's sword of that day. Lastly, we came to Cockenzie, where Mr. Francis Cadell, my publisher's brother, gave us a kind reception. I was especially glad to see the mother of the family, a fine old lady, who was civil to my aunt and me, and, I recollect well, used to have us to tea at Cockenzie. Curious that I should long afterwards have an opportunity to pay back this attention to her son Robert. Once more, what a kind of shuffling of the hand dealt us at our nativity. There was Mrs. F. Cadell, and one or two young ladies, and some fine fat children. I should be a bastard to the time[385] did I not tell our fare. We had a _tiled_ whiting,[386] a dish unknown elsewhere, so there is a bone for the gastronomers to pick. Honest John Wood,[387] my old friend, dined with us. I only regret I cannot understand him, as he has a very powerful memory, and much curious information. The whole day of pleasure was damped by the news of the King's death; it was fully expected, however, as the termination of his long illness. But he was very good to me personally, and a kind sovereign. The common people and gentry join in their sorrow. Much is owing to a kindly recollection of his visit to this country, which gave all men an interest in him.

_June_ 29.--The business of the Court was suspended, so back I came, without stop or stay, and to work went I. As I had risen early I was sadly drowsy; however, I fought and fagged away the day. I am still in hope to send my whole manuscript to Ballantyne before the 10th July. Well, I must devise something to myself; I must do something better than this Demonological trash. It is nine o'clock, and I am weary, yea, my very spirit's tired.[388] After ten o'clock Mr. Daveis,[389] an American barrister of eminence, deputed to represent the American States in a dispute concerning the boundaries of Nova Scotia and New England, with an introduction to me from Mr. Ticknor, called. I was unable to see him, and put him off till to-morrow morning at breakfast.

_June_ 30.--The new King was proclaimed, and the College of Justice took the oaths. I assisted Mr. Daveis, who is a pleasant and well-informed man, to see the ceremony, which, probably, he would hardly witness in his own country. A day of noise and bustle. We dined at Mr. and Mrs. Strange, _chère exquise_ I suppose. Many friends of the Arniston family. I thought there was some belief of Lord Melville losing his place. That he may exchange it for another is very likely, but I think the Duke will not desert him who adhered to him so truly.

FOOTNOTES:

[365] Mr. John Dickinson of Nash Mill, Herts, the eminent papermaker.--J.G.L. _Ante_, p. 31.

[366] Burns's _Tam o' Shanter_.

[367] See Johnson's _Musical Museum_ Illustrations, Pt. v. No. 454.

[368] _Henry V._ Act II. Sc. 1.

[369] Daughter of his old friend, Mrs. Maclean Clephane of Torloisk.

[370] "Little Walter," Thomas Scott's son, who went to India in 1826, _ante_, vol. i. p. 103. He became a General in the Indian Army, and died in 1873.

[371] _Æneid_ VI. 617.

[372] Emanuel de Fellenburg, who died in 1844.

[373] "The History of Scotland from the Earliest Period to the Middle of the Ninth Century," by the Rev. Alex. Low. 8vo, Edinburgh, 1826.--See _Misc. Prose Works_, vol. xx. pp. 374-6.

[374] Southerne's _Fatal Marriage_.

[375] In the _Gamester_ by Moore.

[376] Sir Samuel Shepherd.--See _ante_, vol. i. p. 51 _n_.

[377] Sir Robert Preston, Bart., died in May 1834, aged ninety-five.--- J.G.L.

[378] Heriot's Hospital, Edinburgh.

[379] See _ante_, p. 279 note, and for sketch of Adam Rolland of Gask, Cockburn's _Memorials_, pp. 360-3.

[380] The "frolic and fancy" of Councillor Pleydell were commonly supposed to have been found in Andrew Crosbie, Advocate, but as Crosbie died when Scott was only fourteen, and had retired from the bar for some years, the latter could scarcely have known him personally. See p. 281 _n_.

[381] A second dividend of 3s. was declared on December 17, 1830.

[382] An old Galloway proverb. _Branks_, "a sort of bridle used by country people in riding."--_Jamieson_. Burns in a Scotch letter to Nicol of June 1, 1787, says, "I'll be in Dumfries the morn gif the beast be to the fore and the branks bide hale."--Cromek's _Reliques_, p. 29.

[383] Relating to the changes in the Court of Session.

[384] David Dalrymple of Westhall was a judge of the Court of Session from 1777 till his death in 1784.

[385] _King John_, Act I. Sc. 1.

[386] A whiting dried in the sun; but "tiled haddocks" and "tiled whitings" are now unknown to the fisher-folk of Cockenzie.

[387] John Philip Wood, editor of _Douglas's Peerage of Scotland_, etc., was deaf and dumb; he died in 1838 in his seventy-fourth year.

[388] _Coriolanus_, Act I. Sc. 9.

[389] Charles S. Daveis of Portland, a friend of Mr. George Ticknor, in whose Life (2 vols. 8vo, Boston, 1876) he is often mentioned.

JULY.

_July_ 1.--Mr. Daveis breakfasted with me. On nearer acquaintance, I was more galled by some portion of continental manners than I had been at first, so difficult is it for an American to correct his manner to our ideas of perfect good-breeding.[390] I did all that was right, however, and asked Miss Ferrier, whom he admires prodigiously, to meet him at dinner. Hither came also a young friend, so I have done the polite thing every way. Thomson also dined with us. After dinner I gave my strangers an airing round the Corstorphine hills, and returned by the Cramond road. I sent to Mr. Gibson, Cadell's project for Lammas, which raises £15,000 for a dividend of 3s. to be then made. I think the trustees should listen to this, which is paying one-half of my debt.

_July_ 2.--Have assurances from John Gibson that £15,000 should be applied as I proposed. If this can be repeated yearly up to 1835 the matter is ended, and well ended; yet, woe's me! the public change their taste, and their favourites get old. Yet if I was born in 1771, I shall only be sixty in 1831, and, by the same reasoning, sixty-four in 1835, so I may rough it out, yet be no Sir Robert Preston. At any rate, it is all I have to trust to.

I did a morning's task, and was detained late at the Court; came home, ate a hearty dinner, slumbered after it in spite of my teeth, and made a poor night's work of it. One's mind gets so dissipated by the fagging, yet insignificant, business of the offices; my release comes soon, but I fear for a term only, for I doubt if they will carry through the Court Bill.

_July_ 3.--My day began at seven as usual. Sir Adam came to breakfast. I read Southey's edition of the _Pilgrim's Progress,_ and think of reviewing the same. I would I had books at hand. To the Court, and remained till two; then went to look at the drawings for repairing Murthly, the house of Sir John or James Stewart, now building by Gillespie Graham, and which he has planned after the fashion of James VI.'s reign, a kind of bastard Grecian[391]--very fanciful and pretty though. Read Hone's _Every-day Book_, and with a better opinion of him than I expected from his anti-religious frenzy. We are to dine with the Skenes to-day.

Which we did accordingly, meeting Mr. and Mrs. Strange, Lord Forbes, and other friends.

_July_ 4.--Was a complete and serious day of work, only interrupted in the evening by----, who, with all the freedom and ease of continental manners, gratified me with his gratuitous presence. Yet it might have been worse, for his conversation is well enough, but it is strange want of tact to suppose one must be alike welcome to a stranger at all hours of the day; but I have stuffed the portfolio, so do not grudge half-an-hour.

_July_ 5.--I was up before seven and resumed my labours, and by breakfast-time I had reached p. 133; it may reach to 160 or 170 as I find space and matter. Buchanan[392] came and wrote about fifteen of his pages, equal to mine in proportion of three to one. We are therefore about p. 138, and in sight of land. At two o'clock went to bury poor George Burnet, the son of Gilbert Innes, in as heavy a rain as I ever saw. Was in Shandwick Place again by four and made these entries. I dine to-day with the Club; grant Heaven it fair before six o'clock!

We met at Barry's,[393] and had a gallant dinner, but only few of our number was present. Alas! sixty does not rally to such meetings with the alacrity of sixteen, and our Club has seen the space between these terms. I was home and abed when Charles arrived and waked me. Poor fellow! he is doing very well with his rheumatic limbs.

_July_ 6.--I did little this morning but correct some sheets, and was at the Court all morning. About two I called at Mr. Cadell's, and I learned the dividend was arranged. Sir Adam fell in with us, and laid anchors to windward to get an invitation to Cockenzie for next year, being struck with my life-like description of a tiled haddock. I came home much fagged, slept for half-an-hour (I don't like this lethargy), read _I Promessi Sposi_, and was idle. Miss Kerr dined and gave us music.

_July_ 7.--This morning corrected proofs, with which J.B. proceeds lazily enough, and alleges printing reasons, of which he has plenty at hand. Though it was the Teind Wednesday the devil would have it that this was a Court of Session day also for a cause of mine; so there I sat hearing a dozen cases of augmentation of stipend pleaded, and wondering within myself whether anything can be predicated of a Scottish parish, in which there cannot be discovered a reason for enlarging the endowments of the minister. I returned after two, with a sousing shower for companion; I got very wet and very warm. But shall we go mourn for that, my dear?[394] I rather like a flaw of weather; it shows something of the old man is left. I had Mr. Buchanan to help pack my papers and things, and got through part of that unpleasant business.

_July_ 8.--I had my letters as usual, but no proofs till I was just going out. Returning from the Court met Skene, who brought me news that our visit was at an end for Saturday, poor Colin having come to town very unwell. I called to see him, and found him suffering under a degree of slow palsy, his spirits depressed, and his looks miserable, worse a great deal than when I last saw him. His wife and daughter were in the room, dreadfully distressed. We spoke but a few words referring to recovery and better days, which, I suspect, neither of us hoped.[395] For I looked only on the ghost of my friend of many a long day; and he, while he said to see me did him good, must have had little thought of our meeting under better auspices. We shall, of course, go straight to Abbotsford, instead of travelling by Harcus as we intended.

_July_ 9.--Two distressed damsels on my hands, one, a friend of Harriet Swinton, translates from the Italian a work on the plan of _I Promessi Sposi_, but I fear she must not expect much from the trade. A translation with them is a mere translation--that is, a thing which can be made their own at a guinea per sheet, and they will not have an excellent one at a higher rate. Second is Miss Young, daughter of the excellent Dr. Young of Hawick. If she can, from her father's letters and memoranda, extract materials for a fair simple account of his life, I would give my name as editor, and I think it might do, but for a large publication--Palabras, neighbour Dogberry,[396] the time is by. Dined with the Bannatyne, where we had a lively party. Touching the songs, an old _roué_ must own an improvement in the times, when all paw-paw words are omitted, and naughty innuendos _gazés_. One is apt to say--

"Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath, and leave 'in sooth,' And such protest of pepper-gingerbread."[397]

I think there is more affectation than improvement in the new mode.

_July_ 10.--Rose rather late: the champagne and turtle, I suppose, for our reform includes no fasting. Then poor Ardwell came to breakfast; then Dr. Young's daughter. I have projected with Cadell a plan of her father's life, to be edited by me.[398] If she does but tolerably, she may have a fine thing of it. Next came the Court, where sixty judgments were pronounced and written by the Clerks, I hope all correctly, though an error might well happen in such a crowd, and----, one of the best men possible, is beastly stupid. Be that as it may, off came Anne, Charles, and I for Abbotsford. We started about two, and the water being too deep didn't arrive till past seven; dinner, etc., filled up the rest of the day.

_July_ 11, _Abbotsford_.--Corrected my proofs and the lave of it till about one o'clock. Then started for a walk to Chiefswood, which I will take from station to station,[399] with a book in my pouch. I have begun _Lawrie Todd_, which ought, considering the author's undisputed talents, to have been better. He might have laid Cooper aboard, but he follows far behind. No wonder: Galt, poor fellow, was in the King's Bench when he wrote it. No whetter of genius is necessity, though said to be the mother of invention.

_July_ 12.--Another wet day, but I walked twice up and down the terrace, and also wrote a handsome scrap of copy, though mystified by the want of my books, and so forth. Dr. and Mrs. Lockhart and Violet came to luncheon and left us to drive on to Peebles. I read and loitered and longed to get my things in order. Got to work, however, at seven in the morning.

_July_ 13.--Now "what a thing it is to be an ass!"[400] I have a letter from a certain young man, of a sapient family, announcing that his sister had so far mistaken my attentions as to suppose I was only prevented by modesty from stating certain wishes and hopes, etc. The party is a woman of rank: so far my vanity may be satisfied. But to think I would wish to appropriate a grim grenadier made to mount guard at St. James's! The Lord deliver me! I excused myself with little picking upon the terms, and there was no occasion for much delicacy in repelling such an attack.

_July_ 14.--The Court of Session Bill is now committed in the House of Lords, so it fairly goes on this season, and I have, I suppose, to look for my _congé_. I can hardly form a notion of the possibility that I am not to return to Edinburgh. My clerk Buchanan came here, and assists me to finish the _Demonology Letters_, and be d--d to them. But it is done to their hand. Two ladies, Mrs. Latouche of Dublin, and her niece, Miss Boyle, came to spend a day or two. The aunt is a fine old lady; the conversation that of a serious person frightened out of her wits by the violence and superstition of our workers of miracles in the west.[401] Miss Boyle is a pretty young woman, rather quiet for an Irish lass.

_July_ 16.--We visited at Lessudden yesterday, and took Mrs. Latouche thither. To-day, as they had left us, we went alone to Major John's house of Ravenswood and engaged a large party of cousins to dine to-morrow.

In the evening a party of foreigners came around the door, and going out I found Le Comte Ladislaus de Potocki, a great name in Poland, with his lady and brother-in-law, so offered wine, coffee, tea, etc. The lady is strikingly pretty. If such a woman as she had taken an affection for a lame baronet, nigh sixty years old, it would be worth speaking about! I have finished the _Demonology_.[402]

_July_ 17.--Another bad day, wet past all efforts to walk, and threatening a very bad harvest. Persecuted with begging letters; an author's Pegasus is like a post-chaise leaving the door of the inn: the number of beggars is uncountable. The language they hold of my character for charity makes my good reputation as troublesome as that of Joseph Surface.[403] A dinner of cousins, the young Laird of Raeburn, so he must be called, though nearly as old as I am, at their head. His brother Robert, who has been in India for forty years, excepting one short visit: a fine manly fellow, who has belled the cat with fortune, and held her at bay as a man of mould may. Being all kinsmen and friends, we made a merry day of our re-union. All left at night.

_July_ 18.--

"Time runs, I know not how, away."

Here am I beginning the second week of my vacation--though what needs me note that?--vacation and session will probably be the same to me in the future. The long remove must then be looked to, for the final signal to break up, and that is a serious thought.

I have corrected two sets of proofs, one for the mail, another for the Blucher to-morrow.

[_No entry between July 18 and September 5_.]

[Mr. Lockhart remarks that it was during this interval that the highest point of his recovery was reached. The following little note accompanied the review of Southey's _Bunyan_ to Chiefswood on August 6th:---

"Dear Lockhart, I send you the enclosed. I intended to have brought it myself with help of 'Daddy Dun,' but I find the weather is making a rain of it to purpose.

"I suppose you are all within doors, and the little gardeners all off work.--Yours, W.S."]

A playful yet earnest petition, showing Sir Walter's continued solicitude for the welfare of the good 'Dominie Sampson,' was also written at this time to the Duke of Buccleuch:--

"ABBOTSFORD, _20th August_.

"The minister of ------ having fallen among other black cocks of the season, emboldens me once more to prefer my humble request in favour of George Thomson, long tutor in this family. His case is so well known to your Grace that I would be greatly to blame if I enlarged upon it. His morals are irreproachable, his talents very respectable. He has some oddity of manner, but it is far from attaching to either the head or the heart....

"It would be felt by me among one of the deepest obligations of the many which I owe to the house of Buccleuch. I daresay your Grace has shot a score of black game to-day. Pray let your namesake bag a parson."

FOOTNOTES:

[390] An amusing illustration of the difficulty of seeing ourselves as others see us may be found written twenty-five years later by Nathaniel Hawthorne, where the author of the _Scarlet Letter_ expresses in like manner his surprise at the want of refinement in Englishmen:--"I had been struck by the very rough aspect of these John Bulls in their morning garb, their coarse frock-coats, grey hats, check trousers, and stout shoes; at dinner-table it was not at first easy to recognise the same individuals.... But after a while, 'you see the same rough figure through all the finery, and become sensible that John Bull cannot make himself fine, whatever he may put on. He is a rough animal, and his female is well adapted to him.'"--_Hawthorne and His Wife_, vol. ii. p. 70. 2 vols. 8vo. Cambridge, U.S.A., 1884.

[391] Architects style it Elizabethan, but Sir Walter's term is not inappropriate.

[392] An amanuensis who was employed by Scott at this time.

[393] British Hotel, 70 Queen St.

[394] See _Winter's Tale_, Act IV. Sc. 2.

[395] See _ante_, January 15, 1828, p. 111. Mr. Mackenzie of Portmore died in September 1830, when Sir Walter wrote Mr. Skene the following letter:--

"DEAR SKENE,--I observe from the papers that our invaluable friend is no more. I have reason to think, that as I surmised when I saw him last, the interval has been a melancholy one, at least to those who had to watch the progress. I never expected to see his kind face more, after I took leave of him in Charlotte Square; yet the certainty that such must be the case is still a painful shock, as I can never hope again to meet, during the remaining span of my own life, a friend in whom high talents for the business of life were more happily mingled with all those affections which form the dearest part of human intercourse. In that respect I believe his like hardly is to be found. I hope Mrs. Skene and you will make my assurance of deep sympathy, of which they know it is expressed by a friend of poor Colin of fifty years' standing.

"I hope my young friend, his son, will keep his father's example before his eyes. His best friend cannot wish him a better model.

"I am just setting off to the West for a long-promised tour of a week. I shall be at Abbotsford after Monday, 27th current, and I hope Mrs. Skene and you, with some of our young friends, will do us the pleasure to come here for a few days. We see how separations may happen among friends, and should not neglect the opportunity of being together while we can. Besides, _entre nous_, it is time to think what is to be done about the Society, as the time of my retirement draws nigh, and I am determined, at whatever loss, not to drag out the last sands of my life in that sand-cart of a place, the Parliament House. I think it hurt poor Colin. This is, however, subject for future consideration, as I have not breathed a syllable about resigning the Chair to any one, but it must soon follow as a matter of course.[C]

"Should you think of writing to let me know how the distressed family are, you may direct, during the beginning of next week, to Drumlanrig, Thornhill, Dumfriesshire.

"My kind love attends my dear Mrs. Skene, girls, boys, and all the family, and I am, always yours,

"WALTER SCOTT.

"ABBOTSFORD, _18th September_ [1830]."

[C] Sir Walter had been President of the Royal Society of Edinburgh for some years; his resignation was not accepted, and he retained the office until he died.

[396] _Much Ado about Nothing_, Act III. Sc. 5.

[397] 1 _King Henry IV._, Act III. Sc. 1.

[398] The biography here spoken of was not published.

[399] Sir Walter had seats placed at suitable distances between the house and Chiefswood.

[400] _Titus Andronicus_, Act IV. Sc. 2.

[401] For an account of these "miracles" see _Peace in Believing_--a memoir of Isabella Campbell of Fernicarry. Roseneath, 8vo, 1829.

[402] _Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft_, addressed to J.G. Lockhart, Esq., was published before the end of the year in Murray's _Family Library_.

[403] _School for Scandal_.

SEPTEMBER

_September_ 5.--In spite of resolution I have left my Diary for some weeks, I cannot tell why. We have had the usual number of travelling Counts and Countesses, Yankees male and female, and a Yankee-Doodle-Dandy into the bargain, a smart young Virginia man. We have had friends of our own also, the Miss Ardens, young Mrs. Morritt and Anne Morritt, most agreeable visitors.[404] Cadell came out here yesterday with his horn filled with good news. This will in effect put an end to the trust; only the sales and produce must be pledged to insure the last £15,000 and the annuity interest of £600. In this way Mr. Cadell will become half-partner in the remaining volumes of the books following _St. Ronan's_; with all my heart, but he must pay well for it, for it is good property. Neither is any value stated for literary profits; yet, four years should have four novels betwixt 1830-4. This at £2500 per volume might be £8000, which would diminish Mr. Cadell's advance considerably. All this seems feasible enough, so my fits of sullen alarm are ill placed. It makes me care less about the terms I retire upon. The efforts by which we have advanced thus far are new in literature, and what is gained is secure.

[_No entry between September 5 and December 20_.]

FOOTNOTES:

[404] Sir Walter had written to Morritt on his retirement from the Court of Session, and his old friend responded in the following cordial letter:--

"_November, 1830_.

"MY DEAR SCOTT,--... I am sorry to read what you tell me of your lameness, but legs are not so obedient to many of us at our age as they were twenty years ago, _non immunes ab illis malis sumus_, as the learned Partridge and Lilly's Grammar tells us. I find mine swell, and am forced to bandage, and should not exert them with impunity in walking as I used to do, either in long walks or in rough ground. I am glad, however, you have escaped from the Court of Session, even at the risk of sometimes feeling the want you allude to of winter society. You think you shall tire of solitude in these months: and in spite of books and the love of them, I have discovered by experience the possibility of such a feeling; but can we not in some degree remedy this? Why should we both be within two days' march of each other and not sometimes together, as of old? How I have enjoyed in your house the _summum bonum_ of Sir Wm. Temple's philosophy, 'something which is not Home and yet with the liberty of Home, which is not Solitude, and yet hath the ease of Solitude, and which is only found in the house of an old friend.' Our summer months are well provided with summer friends. You have plenty and to spare of sightseers, Lions, and their hunters, and I have travellers, moor-shooters, etc., in equal abundance, but now when the country is abandoned, and Walter is leaving you, how I wish you would bring dear Anne and partake for a while our little circle here--we stir not till Christmas--if before that time such a pleasure could be attainable. Well, then, for auld lang syne, will you not, now that the Session has no claim on you, combine our forces against the possibility of _ennui_. If you will do this, I will positively, and in good faith, hold myself in readiness to do as much by you in the next November, and in every alternate November, nor shall the month ever pass without bringing us together. Do not tell me, as Wm. Rose would not fail to do if I gave him so good an opportunity, that my proposal would be a greater bore than the solitude it destroyed. It shall be no such thing, but only the trouble of a journey. I feel too, as I grow older, the _vis inertiæ_, and fancy that locomotion is more difficult, but let us abjure the doctrine, for it baulks much pleasure. Pray--pray as the children say--come to us, think of it first as not impossible, then weigh fairly the objections, and if they resolve themselves into mere aversion to change, overcome them by an assurance that the very change will give value to the resumption of your home avocations. If I plead thus strongly, perhaps it is because I feel the advantage to myself. Time has made gaps in the list of old friends as in yours; young ones, though very cheering and useful, are not, and cannot be, the same. I enjoy them too when present, but in absence I regret the others. What remains but to make the most of those we have still left when both body and mind permit us [to enjoy] them. I have books; also a room that shall [be your own], and a [pony] off which I can shoot, which I will engage shall neither tumble himself or allow you to tumble in any excursion on which you may venture. Dear Anne will find and make my womenkind as happy as you will make me, and we have only to beg you to stay long and be most cordially welcome. ... Adieu, dear Scott. I fear you will not come for all I can say. I could almost lose a tooth or a finger (if it were necessary) to find myself mistaken. Come, and come soon; stay long; be assured of welcome.

"All unite in this and in love to you and Anne, with your assured friend,

J.B. MORRITT."

DECEMBER.

_December_ 20.--From September 5 to December 20 is a long gap, and I have seen plenty of things worth recollecting, had I marked them down when they were gliding past. But the time has gone by. When I feel capable of taking it up, I will.

Little self will jostle out everything else, and my affairs, which in some respects are excellent, in others, like the way of the world, are far from being pleasant.

Of good I have the pleasure of saying I have my children well, and in good health. The dividend of 3s. in the pound has been made to the creditors, and the creditors have testified their sense of my labours by surrendering my books, furniture, plate, and curiosities. I see some friends of mine think this is not handsomely done. In my opinion it is extremely so. There are few things so [easy] as to criticise the good things one does, and to show that we ourselves would have done [more] handsomely. But those who know the world and their own nature are always better pleased with one kind action carried through and executed, than with twenty that only glide through their minds, while perhaps they tickle the imagination of the benevolent Barmecide who supposes both the entertainment and the eater. These articles do not amount to less than £10,000 at least, and, without dispensing with them entirely, might furnish me with a fund for my younger children.[405] Now, suppose these creditors had not seriously carried their purpose into execution, the transaction might have been afterwards challenged, and the ease of mind which it produced to me must have been uncertain in comparison. Well! one-half of these claims are cleared off, furnished in a great measure by one-half issue of the present edition of the Waverley Novels, which had reached the 20th of the series.

It cannot be expected that twenty more will run off so fast; the later volumes are less favourites, and are really less interesting. Yet when I read them over again since their composition, I own I found them considerably better than I expected, and I think, if other circumstances do not crush them and blight their popularity, they will make their way. Mr. Cadell is still desirous to acquire one-half of the property of this part of the work, which is chiefly my own. He proposes assembling all my detached works of fiction and articles in Annuals, so that the whole, supposing I write, as is proposed, six new volumes, will run the collection to fifty, when it is time to close it. Between cash advanced on this property, and a profit on the sale of the second part, Mr. Cadell thinks, having taken a year or two years' time, to gather a little wind into the bag, I will be able to pay, on my part, a further sum of £30,000, or the moiety remaining of the whole debts, amounting now to less than £60,000.

Should this happy period arrive in or about the year 1832 the heavy work will be wellnigh finished. Tor, although £30,000 will still remain, yet there is £20,000 actually secured upon my life, and the remaining £10,000 is set against the sale of _Waverley_, which shall have been issued; besides which there is the whole Poetry, _Bonaparte_, and several other articles, equally [available] in a short time to pay up the balance, and afford a very large reversion.

This view cannot be absolutely certain, but it is highly probable, and is calculated in the manner in which Building Schemes [are dealt with], and is not merely visionary. The year 1833 may probably see me again in possession of my estate.

A circumstance of great consequence to my habits and comforts was my being released from the Court of Session on November 1830 (18th day). My salary, which was £1300, was reduced to £840. My friends, just then leaving office, were desirous to patch up the deficiency with a pension. I do not see well how they could do this without being exposed to obloquy, which they shall not be on my account. Besides, though £500 a year is a round sum, yet I would rather be independent than I would have it.

My kind friend the Lord Chief Commissioner offered to interfere to have me named a Privy Councillor; but besides that when one is poor he ought to avoid taking rank, I would be much happier if I thought any act of kindness was done to help forward Charles; and, having said so much, I made my bow, and declared my purpose of remaining satisfied with the article of my knighthood. And here I am, for the rest of my life I suppose, with a competent income, which I can [increase].

All this is rather pleasing, nor have I the least doubt that I could make myself easy by literary labour. But much of it looks like winding up my bottom for the rest of my life. But there is a worse symptom of settling accounts, of which I have felt some signs.

Last spring, Miss Young, the daughter of Dr. Young, had occasion to call on me on some business, in which I had hopes of serving her. As I endeavoured to explain to her what I had to say, I had the horror to find I could not make myself understood. I stammered, stuttered, said one word in place of another--did all but speak; Miss Young went away frightened enough, poor thing; and Anne and Violet Lockhart were much alarmed. I was bled with cupping-glasses, took medicine, and lived on panada; but in two or three days I was well again. The physicians thought, or said at least, that the evil was from the stomach. It is very certain that I have seemed to speak with an impediment, and I was, or it might be fancied myself, troubled with a mispronouncing and hesitation. I felt this particularly at the Election, and sometimes in society. This went on till last November, when Lord ------ came out to make me a visit. I had for a long time taken only one tumbler of whisky and water without the slightest reinforcement. This night I took a very little drop, not so much as a bumper glass, of whisky altogether. It made no difference on my head that I could discover, but when I went to the dressing-room I sank stupefied on the floor. I lay a minute or two--was not found, luckily, gathered myself up, and got to my bed. I was alarmed at this second warning, consulted Abercrombie and Ross, and got a few restrictive orders as to diet. I am forced to attend to them; for, as Mrs. Cole says, "Lack-a-day! a thimbleful oversets me."

To add to these feelings I have the constant increase of my lameness: the thigh-joint, knee-joint, and ankle-joint.

_December_ 21.--I walk with great pain in the whole limb, and am at every minute, during an hour's walk, reminded of my mortality. I should not care for all this, if I was sure of dying handsomely. Cadell's calculations would be sufficiently firm though the author of _Waverly_ had pulled on his last nightcap. Nay, they might be even more trustworthy, if Remains, and Memoirs, and such like, were to give a zest to the posthumous. But the fear is the blow be not sufficient to destroy life, and that I should linger on an idiot and a show.[406]....

We parted on good terms and hopes.[407] But, fall back, fall edge, nothing shall induce me to publish what I do not think advantageous to the community, or suppress what is.

_December_ 23.--To add for this day to the evil thereof, I am obliged to hold a Black-fishing Court at Selkirk. This is always a very unpopular matter in one of our counties, as the salmon never do get up to the heads of the waters in wholesome season, and are there in numbers in spawning-time. So that for several years during the late period, the gentry, finding no advantage from preserving the spawning fish, neglected the matter altogether in a kind of dudgeon, and the peasantry laid them waste at their will. As the property is very valuable, the proprietors down the country agreed to afford some additional passage for fish when the river is open, providing they will protect the spawning fish during close-time. A new Act has been passed, with heavy penalties and summary powers of recovery. Some persons are cited under it to-day; and a peculiar licence of poaching having distinguished the district of late years, we shall be likely to have some disturbance. They have been holding a meeting for reform in Selkirk, and it will be difficult to teach them that this consists in anything else save the privilege of obeying only such laws as please them. We shall see, but I would have counselled the matter to have been delayed for a little season. I shall do my duty, however. Do what is right, come what will.

Six black-fishers were tried, four were condemned. All went very quietly till the conclusion, when one of the criminals attempted to break out. I stopped him for the time with my own hand.[408] But after removing him from the Court-house to the jail he broke from the officers, who are poor feeble old men, the very caricature of peace officers.

_December_ 24.--This morning my old acquaintance and good friend Miss Bell Ferguson died after a short illness: an old friend, and a woman of the most excellent condition. The last two or almost three years were very sickly.

A bitter cold day. Anne drove me over to Huntly Burn to see the family. I found Colonel Ferguson and Captain John, R.N., in deep affliction, expecting Sir Adam hourly. Anne sets off to Mertoun, and I remain alone. I wrote to Walter about the project of making my succession in movables. J.B. sent me praises of the work I am busy with.[409] But I suspect a little _supercherie_, though he protests not. He is going to the country without sending me the political article. But he shall either set up or return it, as I won't be tutored by any one in what I do or forbear.

_December_ 25.--I have sketched a political article on a union of Tories and an Income Tax. But I will not show my teeth if I find I cannot bite. Arrived at Mertoun, and found with the family Sir John Pringle, Major Pringle, and Charles Baillie. Very pleasant music by the Miss Pringles.

_December_ 26, [_Mertoun_].--Prayers after breakfast, being Sunday. Afterwards I shut myself up in Mr. Scott's room.

He has lately become purchaser of his grandfather's valuable library, which was collected by Pope's Lord Marchmont. Part of it is a very valuable collection of tracts during the great Civil War. I spent several hours in turning them over, but I could not look them through with any accuracy. I passed my time very pleasantly, and made some extracts, however, and will resume my research another day.

Major Pringle repeated some pretty verses of his own composing.

I had never a more decided inclination to go loose, yet I know I had better keep quiet.

_December_ 27, [_Abbotsford_].--Commences snow, and extremely bitter cold. When I returned from Mertoun, half-frozen, I took up the _Magnum_, and began to notify the romance called _Woodstock_, in which I got some assistance from Harden's ancient tracts. I ought rather to get on with _Robert of Paris_; but I have had all my life a longing to do something else when I am called to particular labour,--a vile contradictory humour which I cannot get rid of. Well, I can work at something, so at the _Magnum_ work I. The day was indeed broken, great part having been employed in the return from Mertoun.

_December_ 28.--Drove down to Huntly Burn. Sir Adam very melancholy, the death of his sister having come with a particular and shocking surprise upon him. After half-an-hour's visit I returned and resumed the _Magnum_.

_December_ 29.--Attended poor Miss Bell Ferguson's funeral. I sat by the Rev. Mr. Thomson. Though ten years younger than me, I found the barrier between him and me much broken down. We remember it though with more or less accuracy. We took the same old persons for subjects of correspondence of feeling and sentiment. The difference of ten years is little after sixty has passed. In a cold day I saw poor Bell laid in her cold bed. Life never parted with a less effort. Letter from Cadell offering to advance on second series French Tales. This will come in good time, and keep me easy. He proposes views for the _Magnum_. I fear politics may disappoint them.

_December_ 30.--Meeting at Selkirk to-day about the new road to Galashiels. It was the largest meeting I ever saw in Selkirkshire. We gain the victory by no less than 14 to 4. I was named one of the committee to carry the matter on, so in gaining my victory I think I have caught a Tartar, for I have taken on trouble enough. Some company,--Lord Napier, Scotts of Harden, Johnstone of Alva, Major Pringle. In the evening had some private conversation with H.F.S. and R.J., and think there is life in a mussel. More of this hereafter.

_December_ 31.--My two young friends left this morning, but not without renewing our conversation of last night. We carried on the little amusements of the day, and spent our Hogmanay pleasantly enough, in spite of very bad auguries.

FOOTNOTES:

[405] See _Life_, vol. x. pp. 10-25.

[406]

"From Marlborough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, And Swift expires a driveller and a show."--Johnson's _Vanity of Human Wishes_.

[407] Mr. Cadell and Mr. Ballantyne had arrived at Abbotsford on the 18th, bringing with them the good news from Edinburgh of the payment of the second dividend, and of the handsome conduct of the creditors. There had been a painful discussion between them and Sir Walter during the early part of the winter on _Count Robert of Paris_, particulars of which are given in _the Life_ (vol. x. pp. 6, 10-17, 21-23), but they found their host much better than they had ventured to anticipate, and he made the gift of his library the chief subject of conversation during the evening. Next morning Mr. Ballantyne was asked to read aloud a political essay on Reform--intended to be a _Fourth Epistle of Malachi_. After careful consideration, the critical arbiters concurred in condemning the production, but suggested a compromise. His friends left him on the 21st, and the essay, though put in type, was never published. Proof and MS. were finally consigned to the flames!--_Life_, vol. x. pp. 21-25.

[408] An account of this incident is given by an eye-witness, Mr. Peter Rodger, Procurator-Fiscal, who says: "The prisoner, thinking it a good chance of escaping, made a movement in direction of the door. This Sir Walter detected in time to descend from the Bench and place himself in the desperate man's path. 'Never!' said he; 'if you do, it will be over the body of an old man.' Whereupon the other officials of the Court came to the Sheriff's assistance and the prisoner was secured."--Craig-Brown's _Selkirkshire_, vol. ii. p. 141.

[409] _Count Robert of Paris_.

1831.

JANUARY.

_January_ 1, 1831.--I cannot say the world opens pleasantly with me this new year. I will strike the balance. There are many things for which I have reason to be thankful.

_First_.--Cadell's plans seem to have succeeded, and he augurs well as to the next two years, reckoning £30,000 on the stuff now on hand, and £20,000 on the insurance money, and £10,000 to be borrowed somehow. This will bring us wonderfully home.

_Second_.--Cadell is of opinion if I meddle in politics, and I am strongly tempted to do so, I shall break the milk-pail, and threatens me with the fate of Basil Hall, who, as he says, destroyed his reputation by writing impolitic politics. Well, it would be my risk, and if I can do some good, which I rather think I can, is it right or manly to keep myself back?

_Third_.--I feel myself decidedly weaker in point of health, and am now confirmed I have had a paralytic touch. I speak and read with embarrassment, and even my handwriting seems to stammer. This general failure

"With mortal crisis doth portend, My days to appropinque an end."[410]

I am not solicitous about this, only if I were worthy I would pray God for a sudden death, and no interregnum between I cease to exercise reason and I cease to exist.

The Scotts of Harden, Pringles of Stitchill, and Russells of Ashestiel, are all here; I am scarce fit for company though.

_January_ 2.--Held a great palaver with the Scotts, etc.

I find my language apt to fail me; but this is very like to be fancy, and I must be cautious of giving way to it. This cautions me against public exertion much more than Cadell's prognostications, which my blood rises against, and which are ill calculated to keep me in restraint. We dozed through a gloomy day, being the dullest of all possible thaws.

_January_ 3.--I had a letter from the Lord Chief Commissioner, mentioning the King's intention to take care of Charles's interests and promotion in the Foreign Office, an additional reason why I should not plunge rashly into politics, yet not one which I can understand as putting a padlock on my lips neither. I may write to L.C.C. that I may be called on to express an opinion on the impending changes, that I have an opinion, and a strong one, and that I hope this fresh favour [may not be regarded] as padlocking my lips at a time when it would otherwise be proper to me to speak or write. I am shocked to find that I have not the faculty of delivering myself with facility--an embarrassment which may be fanciful, but is altogether as annoying as if real.

_January_ 4.--A base, gloomy day, and dispiriting in proportion. I walked out with Swanston[411] for about an hour: everything gloomy as the back of the chimney when there is no fire in it. My walk was a melancholy one, feeling myself weaker at every step and not very able to speak. This surely cannot be fancy, yet it looks something like it. If I knew but the extent at which my inability was like to stop, but every day is worse than another. I have trifled much time, too much; I must try to get afloat to-morrow, perhaps getting an amanuensis might spur me on, for one-half is nerves. It is a sad business though.

_January_ 5.--Very indifferent, with more awkward feelings than I can well bear up against. My voice sunk and my head strangely confused. When I begin to form my ideas for conversation expressions fail me, even in private conversation, yet in solitude they are sufficiently arranged. I incline to hold that these ugly symptoms are the work of imagination; but, as Dr. Adam Ferguson,[412] a firm man if ever there was one in the world, said on such an occasion, What is worse than imagination? As Anne was vexed and frightened, I allowed her to send for young Clarkson. Of course he could tell but little, save what I knew before.

_January_ 6.--A letter from Henry Scott about the taking ground for keeping the reform in Scotland upon the Scottish principles. I will write him my private sentiments, but avoid being a _boute-feu_.

Go this day to Selkirk, where I found about 120 and more persons of that burgh and Galashiels, who were sworn in as special constables, enough to maintain the peace. What shocked me particularly was the weakness of my voice and the confusion of my head attempting to address them, which was really a poor affair. On my return I found the Rev. Mr. Milne of Quebec, a friend of my sister-in-law. Another time would have been better for company, but Captain John Ferguson and Mr. Laidlaw coming in to dinner, we got over the day well enough.

_January_ 7.--A fine frosty day, and my spirits lighter. I have a letter of great comfort from Walter, who in a manly, handsome, and dutiful manner expressed his desire to possess the library and movables of every kind at Abbotsford, with such a valuation laid upon them as I choose to impose. This removes the only delay to making my will. Supposing the literary property to clear the debts by aid of insurances and other things, about 1835 it will come into my person, and I will appoint the whole to work off the heritable debt of £10,000. If the literary property can produce that sum, besides what it has already done, I would convey it to the three younger children.

_January_ 8.--Spent much time in writing instructions for my last will and testament. Sent off parcel by Dr. Milne, who leaves to-day. Have up two boys for shop-lifting. Remained at Galashiels till four o'clock, and returned starved. Could work none, and was idle all evening--try to-morrow for a work-day; so loiter on.

_January_ 10.--Went over to Galashiels, and was busied the whole time till three o'clock about a petty thieving affair, and had before me a pair of gallows'-birds, to whom I could say nothing for total want of proof, except, like the sapient Elbow, Thou shalt continue there; know thou, thou shalt continue.[413] A little gallow brood they were, and their fate will catch them. Sleepy, idle, and exhausted on this. Wrought little or none in the evening.

Wrote a long letter to Henry [Scott], who is a fine fellow, and what I call a heart of gold. He has sound parts, good sense, and is a true man. Also, I wrote to my excellent friend the Lord Chief [Commissioner]. I thought it right to say that I accepted with gratitude his Majesty's goodness, but trusted it was not to bind me to keep my fingers from pen and ink should a notion impress me that I could help the country. I walked a little, to my exceeding refreshment. I am using that family ungratefully. But I will not, for a punctilio, avoid binding, if I can, a strong party together for the King and country, and if I see I can do anything, or have a chance of it, I will not fear for the skin-cutting. It is the selfishness of this generation that drives me mad.

"A hundred pounds? Ha! thou hast touched me nearly."

I will get a parcel copied to-morrow; wrote several letters at night.

_January_ 11.--Wrote and sent off three of my own pages in the morning, then walked with Swanston. I tried to write before dinner, but, with drowsiness and pain in my head, made little way. My friend Will Laidlaw came in to dinner, and after dinner kindly offered his services as amanuensis. Too happy was I, and I immediately plunged him into the depths of _Count Robert_, so we got on three or four pages, worth perhaps double the number of print. I hope it did not take him too short, but after all to keep the press going without an amanuensis is impossible, and the publishers may well pay a sponsible person. He comes back to-morrow. It eases many of my anxieties, and I will stick to it. I really think Mr. Laidlaw is pleased with the engagement for the time. Sent off six close pages.

_January_ 12.--I have a visit from Mr. Macdonald the sculptor, who wishes to model a head of me. He is a gentlemanlike man, and pleasant as most sculptors and artists of reputation are, yet it is an awful tax upon time. I must manage to dictate while he models, which will do well enough.

So there we sat for three hours or four, I sitting on a stool mounted on a packing-box, for the greater advantage; Macdonald modelling and plastering away, and I dictating, without interval, to good-natured Will Laidlaw, who wrought without intermission. It is natural to ask, Do I progress? but this is too feverish a question. A man carries no scales about him to ascertain his own value. I always remember the prayer of Virgil's sailor in extremity:--

"Non jam prima peto Mnestheus, neque vincere certo; Quamquam O!--Sed superent quibus hoc, Neptune, dedisti! Extremos pudeat rediisse: hoc vincite, cives, Et prohibete nefas!"[414]

We must to our oar; but I think this and another are all that even success would prompt me to write; and surely those that have been my defenders

"Have they so long held out with me untired, And stop they now for breath? Well, be it so."[415]

_January_ 13.--Went to Selkirk on the business of the new high road. I perceive Whytbank and my cousin Colonel Russell of Ashestiel are disposed to peep into the expenses of next year's outlay, which must be provided by loan. This will probably breed strife. Wrote a hint of this to Charles Balfour. Agreed with Smith so far as contracting for the Bridges at £1200 each. I suspect we are something like the good manager who distressed herself with buying bargains.

_January_ 15.--Gave the morning from ten till near two to Mr. Macdonald, who is proceeding admirably with his bust. It is bloody cold work, but he is an enthusiast and much interested; besides, I can sit and dictate owing to Mr. Laidlaw, and so get forward, while I am advancing Lorenzo di Guasco, which is his travelling name. I wrote several letters too, and got through some business. Walked, and took some exercise between one and three.

_January_ 16.--Being Sunday, read prayers. Mr. and Mrs. James[416] go to look for a house, which they desire to take in this country. As Anne is ill, the presence of strangers, though they are pleasant, is rather annoying. Macdonald continues working to form a new bust out of my old scalp. I think it will be the last sitting which I will be enticed to. Thanks to Heaven, the work finishes to-morrow.[417]

_January_ 17.--This morning, when I came down-stairs, I found Mr. Macdonald slabbering away at the model. He has certainly great enthusiasm about his profession, which is a _sine qua non_. It was not till twelve that a post-chaise carried off my three friends.

I had wrote two hours when Dr. Turner came in, and I had to unfold my own complaints. I was sick of these interruptions, and dismissed Mr. Laidlaw, having no hope of resuming my theme with spirit. God send me more leisure and fewer friends to peck it away by tea-spoonfuls!

Another fool sends to entreat an autograph, which he should be ashamed in civility to ask, as I am to deny it. I got notice of poor Henry Mackenzie's death. He has long maintained a niche in Scottish Literature--gayest of the gay, though most sensitive of the sentimental.

_January_ 18.--Came down from my bedroom at eight, and took a rummage in the way of putting things to rights. Dictated to Laidlaw till about one o'clock, during which time it was rainy. Afterwards I walked, sliding about in the mud, and very uncomfortable. In fact, there is no mistaking the three sufficients,[418] and Fate is now straitening its circumvallations round me. Little likely to be better than I am. I am heart-whole as a biscuit, and may last on as now for eight or ten years; the thing is not uncommon, considering I am only in my sixtieth year. I cannot walk; but the intense cold weather may be to blame in this. My riding is but a scramble, but it may do well enough for exercise; and though it is unpleasant to find one's enjoyment of hill and vale so much abridged, yet still when I enjoy my books, and am without acute pain, I have but little to complain of, considering the life I have led so long.

"So hap what may; Time and the hour run through the roughest day."[419]

Mr. Laidlaw came down at ten, and we wrought till one. This should be a good thing for an excellent man, and is an important thing to me, as it saves both my eyesight and nerves, which last are cruelly affected by finding those "who look out of the windows" grow gradually darker and darker.[420] Rode out, or more properly, was carried out, into the woods to see the course of a new road, which may serve to carry off the thinnings of the trees, and for rides. It is very well lined, and will serve both for beauty and convenience. Mr. Laidlaw engages to come back to dinner, and finish two or three more pages. Met my agreeable and lady-like neighbour, Mrs. Brewster, on my pony, and I was actually ashamed to be seen by her.

"Sir Dennis Brand, and on so poor a steed."[421]

I believe detestable folly of this kind is the very last that leaves us. One would have thought I ought to have little vanity at this time o' day; but it is an abiding appurtenance of the old Adam, and I write for penance what, like a fool, I actually felt.

_January_ 19.--Wrote on by Mr. Laidlaw's assistance. Things go bobbishly enough; we have a good deal finished before dinner. Henry Scott comes to dine with me _vis-à-vis_, and we have a grand dish of politics. The friends of old Scotland want but a signal. A certain great lawyer says that if Sir W.S. wrote another _Malachi_ it would set more men on fire than a dozen associations. This almost tempts me. But the canny lad says moreover that to appeal to national partiality, _i.e._ that you should call on Scotsmen to act like Scotsmen, is unfair, and he would be sorry it was known he, late and future placeman, should encourage such paw-paw doings. Yet if Sir W.S. could be got to stand forlorn hope, the legal gentleman would suggest, etc. etc. Suggest and be d--d. Sir W.S. knows when to [doff] his bonnet, and when to cock it in the face of all and sundry. Moreover, he will not be made a cat's-paw of, look you now.

_January_ 20.--Wrought all morning; a monstrous packet of letters at mid-day. Borrow honest Laidlaw's fingers in the evening. I hope his pay will recompense him: it is better than "grieve-ing" or playing Triptolemus.[422] Should be, if I am hard-working, 100 guineas, which, with his house, cow, and free rent, would save, I believe, some painful thoughts to him and his amiable wife and children. We will see how the matter fudges. Almost finished the first volume.

_January_ 21.--James Ballantyne in ecstasies at our plan of an amanuensis. I myself am sensible that my fingers begin to stammer--that is, to write one word instead of another very often. I impute this to fancy, the terrible agency of which is too visible in my illness, and it encourages me to hope the fatal warning is yet deferred. I feel lighter by a million ton since I made this discovery. If I can dictate freely, and without hesitation, my fear to speak at the meeting about the road was vain terror, and so _Andiamo Caracci._ Wrote some letters this afternoon.

_January_ 22.--Mr. Laidlaw rather late of coming. One of his daughters has been ill, and he is an approved physician. Pity when one so gifted employs his skill on himself and family for all patients. We got on, however, to page 46.

_January_ 23.--I wrought a little to-day. Walked to Chiefswood, or rather from it, as far only as Habbie's Howe. Came home, cold indeed, but hearty. Slept after dinner. I think the peep, real or imaginary, at the gates of death has given me firmness not to mind little afflictions. I have jumbled this and the preceding day strangely, when I went to Chiefswood and Huntly Burn. I thought this a week-day.

_January_ 24.--Worked with Mr. Laidlaw, and, as the snow was on the ground, did so without intermission, which must be sinking to the spirits. Held on, however.

_January_ 25.--Same drizzling waste, rendering my footing insecure, and leaving me no refuge but in sitting at home and working till one o'clock. Then retired upon the Sheriff Court processes. Bran,[423] poor fellow, lies yawning at my feet, and cannot think what is become of the daily scamper, which is all his master's inability affords him. This grieves me, by calling back the days of old. But I may call them as I may,

"Youth winna return, nor the days of lang syne."

_January_ 26.--I have Skene and Mr. M'Culloch of Ardwell, to the relief of my spirits and the diminishing of my time. Mr. Laidlaw joined us at dinner.

Bitter cold.

_January_ 27.--So fagged with my frozen vigils that I slept till after ten. When I lose the first two hours in the morning I can seldom catch them again during the whole day.

A friendly visit from Ebenezer Clarkson of Selkirk, a medical gentleman in whose experience and ingenuity I have much confidence, as well as his personal regard for myself. He is quite sensible of the hesitation of speech of which I complain, and thinks it arises from the stomach. Recommends the wild mustard as an aperient. But the brightest ray of hope is the chance that I may get some mechanical aid made by Fortune at Broughton Street, which may enable me to mount a pony with ease, and to walk without torture. This would, indeed, be almost a restoration of my youth, at least of a green old age full of enjoyment. The shutting one out from the face of living nature is almost worse than sudden death.

_January_ 28.--I wrote with Laidlaw. It does not work clear; I do not know why. The plot is, nevertheless, a good plot, and full of expectation.[424] But there is a cloud over me, I think, and interruptions are frequent. I creep on, however.

_January_ 29.--Much in the same way as yesterday, rather feeling than making way. Mr. Williams and his brother came in after dinner. Welcome both; yet the day was not happy. It consumed me an afternoon, which, though well employed, and pleasantly, had the disagreeable effect of my being kept from useful work.

_January_ 30.--Snow deep, which makes me alter my purpose of going to town to-morrow. For to-day, my friends must amuse themselves as they can.

_January_ 31 _[to February_ 9, _Edinburgh_].--Retain my purpose, however, and set out for Edinburgh alone--that is, no one but my servant. The snow became impassable, and in Edinburgh I remain immovably fixed for ten days--that is, till Wednesday--never once getting out of doors, save to dinner, when I went and returned in a sedan chair. I commenced my quarantine in Mackenzie's Hotel,[425] where I was deadly cold, and it was tolerably noisy. The second day Mr. Cadell made a point of my coming to his excellent house, where I had no less excellent an apartment and the most kind treatment--- that is, not making a show of me, for which I was in but bad tune.[426] The physical folks, Abercrombie and Ross, bled me with cupping-glasses, purged me confoundedly, and restricted me of all creature comforts. But they did me good, as I am sure they meant to do sincerely; and I got rid of a giddy feeling, which I have been plagued with, and have certainly returned much better. I did not neglect my testamentary affairs. I executed my last will, leaving Walter burdened, by his own choice, with £1000 to Sophia, and another received at her marriage, and £2000 to Anne, and the same to Charles. He is to advance them money if they want it; if not, to pay them interest, which is his own choice, otherwise I would have sold the books and rattletraps. I have made provisions for clearing my estate by my publications, should it be possible; and should that prove possible, from the time of such clearance being effected, to be a fund available to all my children who shall be alive or leave representatives. My bequests must, many of them, seem hypothetical; but the thing, being uncertain, must be so stated.

Besides, during the unexpected stay in town, I employed Mr. Fortune, an ingenious artist,[427] to make a machine to assist my lame leg,--an odd enough purchase to be made at this time of day, yet who would not purchase ease? I dined with the Lord Chief Commissioner, with the Skenes twice, with Lord Medwyn, and was as happy as anxiety about my daughter would permit me.

The appearance of the streets was most desolate: the hackney-coaches, with four horses, strolling about like ghosts, the foot-passengers few but the lowest of the people.

I wrote a good deal of _Count Robert_, yet I cannot tell why my pen stammers egregiously, and I write horridly incorrect. I long to have friend Laidlaw's assistance.

FOOTNOTES:

[410] _Hudibras_.

[411] John Swanston, a forester at Abbotsford, who did all he could to replace Tom Purdie.--_Life_, vol. x. p. 66.

[412] Dr. Ferguson, Sir Adam's father, died in 1816.--See _Misc. Prose Works_, vol. xix. pp. 331-33.

[413] See _Measure for Measure_, Act II. Sc. 1.

[414] _Æneid_ 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 friendship 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 hoarse greeting one upon another; On comes the flood in all its foaming horrors, And where's the dyke 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 régime, 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 Duchess 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 unpassionate 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 nobody 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], wishing 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 manuscript 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 assemble 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-ship 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 Saturday, 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.

_February_ 27.--Being Saturday, no Mr. Laidlaw came yesterday evening, nor to-day, being Sunday. Truth is, I begin to fear I was working too hard, and gave myself to putting things in order, and working at the _Magnum_, and reading stupid German novels in hopes a thought will strike me when I am half occupied with other things. In fact, I am like the servant in the _Clandestine Marriage,_[430] who assures his mistress he always watches best with his eyes shut.

_February_ 28.--Past ten, and Mr. Laidlaw, the model of a clerk in other respects, is not come yet. He has never known the value of time, so is not quite accurate in punctuality; but that, I hope, will come if I can drill him to it without hurting him. I think I hear him coming. I am like the poor wizard who is first puzzled how to raise the devil and then how to employ him. But _vogue la galère_. Worked till one, then walked with great difficulty and pain till half-past two. I think I can hardly stir without my pony, which is a sad pity. Mr. Laidlaw dines here.

FOOTNOTES:

[428] _Macbeth_, Act V. Sc. 5.

[429] _Lear_, Act III. Sc. 4.

[430] Colman the elder.

MARCH.

_March_ 1, 2, 3.--All these three days I wrote forenoon and fagged afternoon. Kept up the ball indifferent well, but began to tire on the third, and suspected that I was flat--a dreary suspicion, not easily chased away when once it takes root.

_March_ 4.--Laid aside the novel, and began with vigour a review of Robson's Essay on Heraldry;[431] but I missed some quotations which I could not get on without. I gave up, and took such a rash ride nowadays. Returned home, and found Colonel Russell there on a visit. Then we had dinner, and afterwards the making up this miserable Journal.

_March_ 5.--I have a letter from our member, Whytbank, adjuring me to assist the gentlemen of the county with an address against the Reform Bill, which menaces them with being blended with Peeblesshire, and losing of consequence one half of their franchise. Mr. Pringle conjures me not to be very nice in choosing my epithets. Mr. Pringle, Torwoodlee, comes over and speaks to the same purpose, adding, it will be the greatest service I can do the county, etc. This, in a manner, drives me out of a resolution to keep myself clear of politics, and "let them fight dog, fight bear." But I am too easy to be persuaded to bear a hand. The young Duke of Buccleuch comes to visit me also; so I promised to shake my duds and give them a cast of my calling, fall back, fall edge.

_March_ 7-10.--In these four days I drew up, with much anxiety, an address reprobatory of the Bill, both with respect to Selkirkshire, and in its general purport. I was not mealy-mouthed, and those who heard the beginning could hardly avoid listening to the end. It was certainly in my best style, and would have made a deal of noise. From the uncompromising style it would have attracted attention. Mr. Laidlaw, though he is on t'other side on the subject, thinks it the best thing I ever wrote; and I myself am happy to find that it cannot be said to smell of the apoplexy. The pointed passages were, on the contrary, clever and well put. But it was too declamatory, too much like a pamphlet, and went far too generally into opposition to please the country gentlemen, who are timidly inclined to dwell on their own grievances rather than the public wrongs.

_March_ 11.--This day we had our meeting at Selkirk. I found Borthwickbrae (late member) had sent the form of an address, which was finished by Mr. Andrew Lang.[432] It was the reverse of mine in every respect. It was short, and to the point. It only contained a remonstrance against the incorporation with [Peebles]shire, and left it to be inferred that they approved the Bill in other respects.[433] As I saw that it met the ideas of the meeting (six in number) better by far than such an address as mine, I instantly put it in my pocket. But I endeavoured to add to their complaint of a private wrong a general clause, stating their sense of the hazard of passing a Bill full of such violent innovations at once on the public. But though Harden, Alva, and Torwoodlee voted for this measure, it was refused by the rest of the meeting, to my disappointment; since in its present state it will not be attended to, and is in fact too milk-and-water to attract notice. I am, however, personally out of the scrape; I was a fool to stir such a mess of skimmed milk with so honourable an action.[434] If some of the gentlemen of the press get hold of this story, what would they make of it, and how little would I care! One thing is clear: it gives me a right to decline future interference, and let the world wag, _Sessa_.[435]

_March_ 12.--Wrote the history of my four days' labour in vain to Sandy Pringle, Whytbank, and so _transeat_ with _cæteris erroribus_. I only gave way to one jest. A ratcatcher was desirous to come and complete his labours in my house, and I, who thought he only talked and laughed with the servants, recommended him to go to the head courts and meetings of freeholders, where he would find rats in plenty.

_March_ 13.--I have finally arranged a thorny transaction. Mr. Cadell has an interest in some of the Novels, amounting to one-half; but the following are entirely my own, viz.:--

St. Ronan's Well, 3 vols. Tales of Crusaders, 4 " First Chronicles, 2 " Anne of Geierstein, 3 " Redgauntlet, 3 " Woodstock, 3 " Second Chronicles, 3 " Count Robert, 3 "

In all, twenty-four volumes, which will begin printing after _Quentin Durward_, and concludes the year 1831. For half the property he proposes to pay 6000 guineas on 2d February 1831 [1832?]. I think that with this sum, and others coming in, I may reduce the debt to £45,000.

But I do not see clearly enough through this affair to accept this offer. _First_, I cannot see that there is wisdom in engaging Mr. Cadell in deep speculations, unless they served him very much. I am, in this respect, a burnt child: I have not forgotten the fire, or rather the furnace. _Second_, I think the property worth more, if publicly sold. _Third_, I cannot see any reasons which should render it advantageous for me to sell one half of this property, it being admittedly at the same [time] highly judicious to keep the other half. This does not fadge. _Fourth_, As to the immediate command of the money, I am not pressed for it, not having any advantage by paying it a year or two sooner or later. The actual proceeds of the sales will come in about 1834, and I daresay will not be far behind in amount the sum of £6000.

In short, I will not sell on a rainy day, as our proverb says. I have communicated my resolution to Cadell, to whom, no doubt, it will be a disappointment, for which I am sorry, but cannot help it.

_March_ 14.--Had a very sensible and good-humoured answer from Mr. Cadell, readily submitting to my decision. He mentions, what I am conscious of, the great ease of accomplishing, if the whole is divided into two halves. But this is not an advantage to me, but to them who keep the books, and therefore I cannot be moved by it. It is the great advantage of uniformity, of which Malachi Malagrowther tells so much. I do not fear that Mr. Cadell will neglect the concern because he has not the large share in it which he had in the other. He is, I think, too honest a man. He has always shown himself every way willing and ready to help me, and verily he hath his reward; and I can afford him on that property a handsome percentage for the management. But if his fate was to lose considerably by this transaction, I must necessarily be a sufferer; if he be a great gainer, it is at my expense, so it is like the children's game of "Odds I win, evens you lose"--so will say no more about it. I think I will keep my ground nearly, so these cursed politics do not ruin the country. I am unable to sit at good men's boards, and Anne has gone to Mertoun to-day without me. I cannot walk or ride but for a mile or two. Naboclish! never mind. I am satisfied that I am heart-whole as a biscuit, and I may live to see the end of those affairs yet. I am driving on the _Count of Paris_ right merrily. I have plenty of leisure, and _vive la plume_! I have arranged matters as I think for the best, so will think no more about it.

_March_ 16.--The affair with Mr. Cadell being settled, I have only to arrange a set of regular employment for my time, without over-fatiguing myself. What I at present practise seems active enough for my capacity, and even if I should reach the threescore and ten, from which I am thrice three years distant, or nearer ten, the time may pass honourably, usefully, and profitably, both to myself and other people. My ordinary runs thus:--Rise at a quarter before seven; at a quarter after nine breakfast, with eggs, or in the singular number, at least; before breakfast private letters, etc.; after breakfast Mr. Laidlaw comes at ten, and we write together till one. I am greatly helped by this excellent man, who takes pains to write a good hand, and supplies the want of my own fingers as far as another person can. We work seriously at the task of the day till one o'clock, when I sometimes walk--not often, however, having failed in strength, and suffering great pain even from a very short walk. Oftener I take the pony for an hour or two and ride about the doors; the exercise is humbling enough, for I require to be lifted on horseback by two servants, and one goes with me to take care I do not fall off and break my bones, a catastrophe very like to happen. My proud promenade à pied or à cheval, as it happens, concludes by three o'clock. An hour intervenes for making up my Journal and such light work. At four comes dinner,--a plate of broth or soup, much condemned by the doctors, a bit of plain meat, no liquors stronger than small beer, and so I sit quiet to six o'clock, when Mr. Laidlaw returns, and remains with me till nine or three quarters past, as it happens. Then I have a bowl of porridge and milk, which I eat with the appetite of a child. I forgot to say that after dinner I am allowed half a glass of whisky or gin made into weak grog. I never wish for any more, nor do I in my secret soul long for cigars, though once so fond of them. About six hours per day is good working, if I can keep at it.

_March_ 17.--Little of this day, but that it was so uncommonly windy that I was almost blown off my pony, and was glad to grasp the mane to prevent its actually happening. Rode round by Brigends. I began the third volume of _Count Robert of Paris_, which has been on the anvil during all these vexatious circumstances of politics and health. But "the blue heaven bends over all." It may be ended in a fortnight if I keep my scheme. But I will take time enough. This would be on Thursday. I would like it much.

_March_ 18.--We get well on. _Count Robert_ is finished so far as the second goes, and some twenty [pages] of the third. _Blackwood's Magazine_, after long bedaubing me with compliment, has began to bedaub Lockhart for my sake, or perhaps me for Lockhart's sake, with abuse. Lockhart's chief offence seems to have been explaining the humbug of showing up Hogg as a fool and blackguard in what he calls the _Noctes_.[436] For me I care wonderfully little either for his flattery or his abuse.[437]

_March_ 19.--I made a hard working day--almost equal to twenty pages, but there was some reason for it, for Ballantyne writes me that the copy sent will not exceed 265 pages when the end of volume ii. is reached; so 45 more pages must be furnished to run it out to page 329. This is an awful cast back; so the gap is to be made up.

_March_ 20.--I thought I was done with politics, but it is easy getting into the mess, and difficult and sometimes disgraceful to get out. I have a letter from Sheriff Oliver, desiring me to go [to Jedburgh] on Monday (to-morrow) and show countenance by adhering to a set of propositions, being a resolution. Though not well drawn, they are uncompromising enough; so I will not part company. Had a letter, too, from Henry Scott. He still expects to refuse the Bill. I wrote him that would but postpone the evil day, unless they could bring forward a strong Administration, and, what is most essential, a system of finance; otherwise it won't do. Henry has also applied to me for the rejected address. But this I shall decline.

_March_ 22.--Went to-day at nine o'clock to the meeting. A great number present, with a tribune full of Reformers, who showed their sense of propriety by hissing, hooting, and making all sorts of noises; and these unwashed artificers are from henceforth to select our legislators. There was some speaking, but not good. I said something, for I could not sit quiet.[438]

We did not get home till about nine, having fasted the whole time. James, the blockhead, lost my poor Spice, a favourite terrier. The fool shut her in a stable, and somebody, [he] says, opened the door and let her out. I suspect she is lost for aye, for she was carried to Jedburgh in a post-chaise.

_March_ 23.--The measure carried by a single vote.[439] In other circumstances one would hope for the interference of the House of Lords, but it is all hab-nab at a venture. The worst is that there is a popular party who want personal power, and are highly unfitted to enjoy it. It has fallen easily, the old Constitution; no bullying Mirabeau to assail, no eloquent Maury to defend. It has been thrown away like a child's broken toy. Well trained, the good sense of the people is much trusted to; we will see what it will do for us.[440]

The curse of Cromwell on those whose conceit brought us to this pass. _Sed transeat_. It is vain to mourn what cannot be mended.

_March_ 24.--Frank Grant and his lady came here. Frank will, I believe, and if he attends to his profession, be one of the celebrated men of the age. He is well known to me as the companion of my sons and the partner of my daughters. In youth, that is in extreme youth, he was passionately fond of fox-hunting and other sports, but not of any species of gambling. He had also a strong passion for painting, and made a little collection. As he had sense enough to feel that a younger brother's fortune would not last long under the expenses of a good stud and a rare collection of _chef-d'œuvres_, he used to avow his intention to spend his patrimony, about £10,000, and then again to make his fortune by the law. The first he soon accomplished. But the law is not a profession so easily acquired, nor did Frank's talents lie in that direction. His passion for painting turned out better. Nature had given him the rare power of judging soundly of painting, and in a remarkable degree the power of imitating it. Connoisseurs approved of his sketches, both in pencil and oils, but not without the sort of criticisms made on these occasions--that they were admirable for an amateur; but it could not be expected that he should submit to the technical drudgery absolutely necessary for a profession, and all that species of criticism which gives way before natural genius and energy of character.

Meantime Frank Grant, who was remarkably handsome, and very much the man of fashion, married a young lady with many possibilities, as Sir Hugh Evans says.[441] She was eldest sister of Farquharson of Invercauld, chief of that clan; and the young man himself having been almost paralysed by the malaria in Italy, Frank's little boy by this match becomes heir to the estate and chieftainship. In the meantime fate had another chance for him in the matrimonial line. At Melton-Mowbray, during the hunting season, he had become acquainted (even before his first marriage) with a niece of the Duke of Rutland, a beautiful and fashionable young woman, with whom he was now thrown into company once more. It was a natural consequence that they should marry. The lady had not much wealth, but excellent connections in society, to whom Grant's good looks and good breeding made him very acceptable.

_March_ 25.--In the meantime Frank saw the necessity of doing something to keep himself independent, having, I think, too much spirit to become a Stulko,[442] drinking out the last glass of the bottle, riding the horses which the laird wishes to sell, and drawing sketches to amuse the lady and the children,--besides a prospect on Invercauld elevating him, when realised, to the rank of the laird's father.

_March_ 26.--Grant was above all this, and honourably and manfully resolved to cultivate his taste for painting, and become a professional artist. I am no judge of painting, but I am conscious that Francis Grant possesses, with much taste, a sense of beauty derived from the best source, that of really good society, while in many modern artists, the total want of that species of feeling is so great as to be revolting. His former acquaintances render his immediate entrance into business completely secure, and it will rest with himself to carry on his success. He has, I think, that degree of energy and force of character which will make him keep and enlarge any reputation which he may acquire. He has confidence too in his own powers, always a requisite for a young painter whose aristocratic pretensions must be envied by [his less fortunate brethren].

_March_ 27.--Frank Grant is still with me, and is well pleased--I think very deservedly so--with a cabinet picture of myself, armour, and so forth, together with my two noble staghounds of the greyhound race. I wish Cadell had got it; it is far better than Watson's--though his is well too. The dogs sat charmingly, but the picture took up some time.[443]

_March_ 28.--We went out a little ride. The weather most tempting, the day beautiful. We rode and walked a little.

_March_ 29.--We had an hour's sitting of the dogs, and a good deal of success. I cannot compose my mind on this public measure. It will not please those whom it is the object to please.

_March_ 30.--Robert Dundas[444] and his wife--Miss Durham that was--came to spend a day or two. I was heartily glad to see him, being my earliest and best friend's son. John Swinton came by Blucher, on the part of an anti-Reform meeting in Edinburgh; exhorting me to take up the pen, but I declined and pleaded health, which, God knows, I have a right to urge. I might have urged also the chance of my breaking down, but there would be a cry of this kind which might very well prove real.

_March_ 31.--Swinton returned in the forenoon yesterday after lunch. He took my denial very quietly, and said it would be wrong to press me. I have not shunned anything that came fairly on me, but I do not see the sense of standing forth a champion. It is said that the Duke of Buccleuch has been offered the title of Monmouth if he would cease to oppose. He said there were two objections--they would not give it him if he seriously thought of it, and he would not take it if they did. The Dundases went off to-day. I was glad I had seen them, although visitors rather interrupt work.

FOOTNOTES:

[431] _The British Herald_, by Thomas Robson, 3 vols. 4to, 1830. Mr. Lockhart says this review never was published.

[432] Mr. Andrew Lang, Sheriff and Commissary Clerk, and Clerk of Peace, for Selkirkshire, grandfather of Mr. Andrew Lang, the accomplished poet and man of letters of the present time. The tact and ability of the grandfather are noticed by Sir Walter in his letter to Lord Montagu of Oct. 3, 1819, describing Prince Leopold at Selkirk.--_Life_, vol. vi. p. 131.

[433] This proposal, resisted successfully in 1832, has since been put in force so far as Parliament is concerned.

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

[435] _Taming of the Shrew_, Introd.

[436] As this is the last reference to the Ettrick Shepherd in the Journal, it may be noted that Sir Walter, as late as March 23d, 1832, was still desirous to promote Hogg's welfare. In writing from Naples he says, in reference to the Shepherd's social success in London, "I am glad Hogg has succeeded so well. I hope he will make hay while the sun shines; but he must be aware that the Lion of this season always becomes the Boar of the next.... I will subscribe the proper sum, _i.e._ what you think right, for Hogg, by all means; and I pray God, keep farms and other absurd temptations likely to beset him out of his way. He has another chance for comfort if he will use common sense with his very considerable genius."

[437] This expression of irritation can easily be understood after reading the passages referred to in the twenty-ninth volume of _Blackwood's Magazine_, pp. 30-35, and 535-544. Readers of this _Journal_ have seen what uphill work these "Letters on Demonology" were to the author, but the unsparing criticism of _Christopher North_ must have appeared to the author as a very unfriendly act, more especially, he thought, if the critic really knew the conditions under which the book had been written.

[438] Mr. Lockhart says:--"He proposed one of the Tory resolutions in a speech of some length, but delivered in a tone so low, and with such hesitation in utterance, that only a few detached passages were intelligible to the bulk of the audience."--See _Life_, vol. x. pp. 46-8.

[439] The passing of the great Reform Bill in the House of Commons on the 22d March.

[440] His friend Richardson, who was a Whig, writes him from London on February 14:--"What a singular feeling it was to me to find Brougham Lord Chancellor, and Jeffrey and Cockburn in their present stations! I am afraid that the spirit of reform goes at present beyond the limits to which even the Government will go--and but for the large stock of good sense and feeling which I think yet pervades the country, I should tremble for the future."

[441] _Merry Wives_, Act I. Sc. 1.

[442] _Stulko_ or _Stulk_ (? _Stocaire_, in Irish), a word formerly in common use among the Irish, signifying an idle, lazy, good-for-nothing fellow.

[443] Mary Campbell, Lady Ruthven, for whom the picture was painted, was not only the friend of Scott, but she held relations more or less close with nearly every one famous in Art and Literature during the greater part of the nineteenth century. No mean artist herself, and though, perhaps, not a clever letter-writer, she had among her correspondents some of the most brilliant men of her day. She survived all her early friends, but had the gift of being attractive to the young, and for three generations was the delight of their children and grandchildren. Those who were privileged to share in the refined hospitality of Winton, never forgot either the picturesque old house (the supposed Ravenswood Castle of the _Bride of Lammermoor_), or its venerable mistress as she sat of an evening in her unique drawing-room, the walls of which were adorned with pictures of Grecian temple and landscape, her own handiwork in days long gone by when she was styled by her friends Queen of Athens. Her conversation, after she was ninety, was fresh and vigorous; and, despite blindness and imperfect hearing, she kept herself well acquainted with the affairs of the day. The last great speech in Parliament, or the newest _bon mot_, were equally acceptable and equally relished. Her sense of humour and fun made her, at times, forget her own sufferings, and her splendid memory enabled her to while away many a sleepless hour by repeating long passages from the Bible or Milton. The former she had so much in her heart that it was scarcely possible to believe she was not reading from the Book. Above all was her truly divine gift of charity, the practical application of which, in her every-day life, was only bounded by her means.

It was said of her by one who knew her well--

"She lived to a great age, dispensing kindness and benevolence to the last, and cheered in the sore infirmities of her later years by the love of friends of all ranks, and all parties of all ages.

"The Living Lamp of Lothian, which from Winton, has so long shed its beneficent lustre, has been extinguished, but not so will be lost the memory of the gifted lady, for by not a few will still be cherished the recollection of her noble nature, and of her Christian life."

Lady Ruthven prized the picture referred to. She would not, as Sir Francis Grant relates,[D] permit him to touch the canvas after it left the Abbotsford studio; and it remained a cherished possession which she took pride in showing to appreciative guests, pointing out the details of face and form which she still saw with that inner eye, which time had not darkened.

It is now in the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland--bequeathed to the nation with other pictures, as well as the magnificent collection of Greek archaeological objects gathered by herself and Lord Ruthven in their early married life. She was born in 1789, and died in 1885.

[444] Robert Dundas of Arniston, Esq., the worthy representative of an illustrious lineage, died at his paternal seat in June 1838.--J.G.L. See _Arniston Memoirs_--_Three Centuries of a Scottish House_, 1571-1838. Edin. 8vo, 1887.

[D] See long and interesting letter of June 5, 1872, from Sir Francis to Sir W.S. Maxwell.--Laing's _Catalogue_, pp. 72-81.

APRIL.

_April_ 2.--Mr. Henry Liddell, eldest son of Lord Ravensworth, arrived here. I like him and his brother Tom very much. They are what may be termed fine men. Young Mackenzie of Cromarty came with him, who is a fine lad and sings very beautifully. I knew his father and mother, and was very glad to see him. They had been at Mertoun fishing salmon, with little sport.

_April_ 3.--A letter from the Lord Chief Commissioner, reporting Lord Palmerston and Sir Herbert Taylor's letters in Charles's favour. Wrote a grateful answer, and resolved, that as I have made my opinion public at every place where I could be called on or expected to appear, I will not throw myself forward when I have nothing to say. May the Lord have mercy upon us and incline our hearts to keep this vow!

_April_ 4.--Mr. Liddell and Hay Mackenzie left us this morning. Liddell showed me yesterday a very good poem, worthy of Pope or Churchill, in old-fashioned hexameters, called the [_illegible_]. He has promised me a copy, for it is still being printed. There are some characters very well drawn. The force of it belies the character of a Dandie, too hastily ascribed to the author. He is accomplished as an artist and musician, and certainly has a fine taste for poetry, though he may never cultivate it.[445] He promises to bring his lady--who is very clever, but pretty high, they say, in the temper--to spend a day or two with us after leaving Edinburgh.

_April_ 5.--This fifth day of April is the March fair at Selkirk. Almost every one of the family goes there, Mr. Laidlaw among others. I have a hideous paralytic custom of stuttering with my pen, and cannot write without strange blunders; yet I cannot find any failure in my intellect. Being unable to write to purpose with my own hand, this forenoon was a sort of holiday to me. The third volume of _Count Robert_ is fairly begun, but I fear I shall want stuff to fill it, for I would not willingly bombast it with things inappropriate. If I could fix my mind to the task to-day, my temper, notwithstanding my oath, sets strong towards politics, where I would be sure of making a figure, and feel I could carry with me a great part of the middle-class, who wait for a shot between wind and water--half comic, half serious, which is a better argument than most which are going. The regard of my health is what chiefly keeps me in check. The provoking odium I should mind much less; for there will always be as many for as against me, but it would be a foolish thing to take flight to the next world in a political gale of wind. If Cadell gave me the least encouragement I would give way to the temptation. Meantime I am tugging at the chain for very eagerness. I have done enough to incense people against me, without, perhaps, doing so much as I could, would, or should have done.

_April_ 6.--I have written to Alva and Lord Elgin, explaining why I cannot, as they encourage me to do, take upon me the cause of the public, and bell-the-cat with the reformers. I think I have done enough for an individual.

I have more than half dictated the third volume to Mr. Laidlaw; but I feel the subject wants action, and that a little repose will be very necessary. Resolve to-morrow shall be a resting-day. I have not had one this long time. I had a letter from Croker, advising a literary adventure--the personal history of Charles Edward.[446] I think it will do. Rode to Melrose and brought home the letters from the post-office.

_April_ 8,--I took leave of poor Major John Scott,[447] who, being afflicted with a distressing asthma, has resolved upon selling his house in Ravenswood, which he had dressed up with much neatness, and going abroad to Jamaica. Without having been intimate friends, we were always affectionate relations, and now we part, probably never to meet in this world. He has a good deal of the character said to belong to the family. Our parting with mutual feeling may be easily supposed.

_April_ 9.--This being Saturday, I expect the bibliopolist and typographer about two o'clock, I suppose, when I shall have much to journalise. Failures among the trade are alarming, yet not if we act with prudence. _Nous verrons_.

Mr. Cadell and J. Ballantyne, with the son of the latter. Their courage is much stouter than I apprehended. Cadell says he has lost £1000 by bad debts, which is less than he expected, by bad times coming on at this time. We have been obliged to publish the less popular part of the Waverley Novels. At present I incline to draw a period after 48 volumes, and so close the publication. About nine or ten volumes will then conclude our _Magnum Opus_, so called, and Mr. Cadell thinks we shall then begin the Poetical Works, in twelve volumes, with illustrations by Turner, which he expects to rise as far as 12,000. The size is to be that of the Waverley Novels.

_April_ 10.--I had a letter from Mr. Cowan, Trustee for

Constable's creditors, telling that the manuscripts of the Waverley Novels had been adjudged to him, and offering them to me, or rather asking my advice about the disposal of them. Answered that I considered myself as swindled out of my property, and therefore will give no consent to any sale of the pillage.[448] Cadell says he is determined to get the MSS. from Cowan. I told him I would give him the rest of the MSS., which are in my own hand, for Mr. Cadell has been very friendly to me in not suffering me to want money in difficult times. We are not pushed by our creditors, so can take our own time; and as our plans prosper, we can pay off debt. About two o'clock enter two gentlemen in an open carriage, both from Makerstoun, and both Captains in the Navy. Captain Blair, a son of the member for Ayrshire, my old friend the Laird of Blair. Just as they retreat, Mr. Pontey is announced. I was glad to see this great forester. He is a little man, and gets along with an air of talent, something like Gifford, the famous editor of the _Quarterly_. As in his case mental acuteness gave animation to that species of countenance which attends personal deformity. The whole of his face was bizarre and odd, yet singularly impressive. We walked round, I with great pain, by the Hooded Corbies' seat, and this great Lord of the woodland gave the plantation great approbation. He seems rather systematic in pruning, yet he is in a great measure right. He is tolerably obstinate in his opinions. He dined, leaving me flattered with his applause, and pleased with having seen him.

_April_ 11.--This day I went, with Anne and Miss Jane Erskine,[449] to see the laying of the stones of foundation of two bridges in my neighbourhood over Tweed and the Ettrick. There was a great many people assembled. The day was beautiful, the scene romantic, and the people in good spirits and good-humour. Mr. Paterson[450] of Galashiels made a most excellent prayer; Mr. Smith[451] gave a proper repast to the workmen, and we subscribed sovereigns apiece to provide for any casualty. I laid the foundation-stone of the bridge over Tweed, and Mr. C.B. Scott[452] of Woll that of Ettrick. The general spirit of good-humour made the scene, though without parade, extremely interesting.

_April_ 12.--We breakfasted with the Fergusons, after which Anne and Miss Erskine walked up the Rhymer's Glen. I could as easily have made a pilgrimage to Rome with pease in my shoes unboiled. I drove home, and began to work about ten o'clock. At one o'clock I rode, and sent off what I had finished. Mr. Laidlaw dined with me. In the afternoon we wrote five or six pages more. I am, I fear, sinking a little, from having too much space to fill, and a want of the usual inspiration which makes me, like the chariot wheels of Pharaoh in the sands of the Red Sea, drive heavily. It is the less matter if this prove, as I suspect, the last of this fruitful family.

_April_ 13.--Corrected a proof in the morning. At ten o'clock began where I had left off at my romance. Mr. Laidlaw agrees as to the portion of what we are presently busy with. Laidlaw begins to smite the rock for not giving forth the water in quantity sufficient. I remarked to him that this would not profit much. Doing, perhaps, twelve pages a day will easily finish us, and if it prove dull, why, dull it must be. I shall, perhaps, have half a dozen to make up this night. I have against me the disadvantage of being called the Just, and every one of course is willing to worry me. But they have been long at it, and even those works which have been worst received at their appearance now keep their ground fairly enough. So we'll try our old luck another voyage.

It is a close, thick rain, and I cannot ride, and I am too dead lame to walk in the house. So, feeling really exhausted, I will try to sleep a little.

My nap was a very short one, and was agreeably replaced by Basil Hall's Fragments of Voyages. Everything about the inside of a vessel is interesting, and my friend has the great sense to know this is the case. I remember when my eldest brother took the humour of going to sea, James Watson[453] used to be invited to George Square to tell him such tales of hardships as might disgust him with the service. Such were my poor mother's instructions. But Captain Watson could not render a sea life disgusting to the young midshipman or to his brother, who looked on and listened. The account of assistance given to the Spaniards at Cape Finisterre, and the absurd behaviour of the Junta, are highly interesting--a more inefficient, yet a more resolved class of men than the Spaniards were never conceived.

_April_ 14.--Advised by Mr. Cadell that he has agreed with Mr. Turner, the first draughtsman of the period, to furnish to the poetical works two decorations to each of the proposed twelve volumes, to wit, a frontispiece and vignette to each, at the rate of £25 for each, which is cheap enough considering these are the finest specimens of art going. The difficulty is to make him come here to take drawings. I have written to the man of art, inviting him to my house, though, if I remember, he is not very agreeable, and offered to transport him to the places where he is to exercise his pencil. His method is to take various drawings of remarkable places and towns and stick them all together. He can therefore derive his subjects from good accurate drawings, so with Skene's assistance we can equip him. We can put him at home on all the subjects. Lord Meadowbank and his son, Skene and his son, Colonel Russell and his sister, dined with us.[454]

_April_ 15.--Lord Meadowbank, etc., went to Newark with me, and returned to dine with the foregoing. Charming day.

_April_ 16.--Lord Meadowbank went to the circuit and our party to their various homes. By the bye, John Pringle and his brother of Haining dined with us yesterday. Skene walks with me and undertakes readily to supply Turner with subjects. Weather enchanting. About 100 leaves will now complete _Robert of Paris_. Query, will it answer? Not knowing, can't say. I think it will.

_Sunday_ 16_th_ [17_th_] _April to Sunday_ 24_th_ of the same month unpleasantly occupied by ill [health], and its consequences, a distinct shock of paralysis affecting both my nerves and spine, though beginning only on Monday with a very bad cold. Dr. [Abercrombie] was brought out by the friendly care of Cadell, but young Clarkson had already done the needful--that is, had bled and blistered severely, and placed me on a very restricted diet. Whether these precautions have been taken in time I cannot tell. I think they have, though severe in themselves, beat the disease. But I am alike prepared,

"Seu versare dolos, seu certæ occumbere morti."[455]

I only know that to live as I am just now is a gift little worth having. I think I will be in the Secret next week unless I recruit greatly.

_April_ 27.--They have cut me off from animal food and fermented liquor of every kind, and would press upon me such trash as panada and the like, which affect my stomach.

This I will none of, but quietly wait till my ordinary diet is permitted, and thank God I can fast with any one. I walked out and found the day delightful; the woods are looking charming, just bursting forth to the tune of the birds. I have been whistling on my wits like so many chickens, and cannot miss any of them. I feel, on the whole, better than I have yet done. I believe I have fined and recovered, and so may be thankful.

_April_ 28 and 29.--Walter made his appearance, well and stout, and completely recovered of his stomach complaints by abstinence. He has youth on his side, and I in age must submit to be a Lazarus. The medical men persist in recommending a seton. I am no friend to these risky remedies, and will be sure of the necessity before I yield consent. The dying like an Indian under torture is no joke, and, as Commodore Trunnion says, I feel heart-whole as a biscuit. My mind turns to politics. I feel better just now, and so I am. I will wait till Lockhart comes, but that may be too late.

FOOTNOTES:

[445] Henry Liddell, second Baron Ravensworth, author of a translation of the Odes of Horace, a volume of Latin Poems, etc.

[446] In a letter from Sir Walter to his son-in-law, of April 11th, he says:--

"When you can take an hour to think of this, I will be glad to hear from you.... I am in possession of five or six manuscripts, copies, or large extracts, taken under my own eyes. Croker thinks, and I am of his opinion, that if there was room for a personal narrative of the character, it would answer admirably."

[447] This gentleman, a brother to the Laird of Raeburn, had made some fortune in the East Indies, and bestowed the name of Ravenswood on a villa which he built near Melrose. He died in 1831.--J.G.L.

[448] The Manuscripts were sold by auction in London on August 19th, 1831, and the prices realised fell far short of what might have been expected, _e.g._ (1) _Monastery_, £18; (2) _Guy Mannering_, £27, 10s.; (3) _Old Mortality_, £33; (4) _Antiquary_, £42; (5) _Rob Roy_, £50; (6) _Peveril of the Peak_, £42; (7) _Waverley_, £18; (8) _Abbot_, £14; (9) _Ivanhoe_, £12; (10) _Pirate_, £12; (11) _Nigel_, £16, 16s.; (12) _Kenilworth_, £17; (13) _Bride of Lammermoor_, £14, 14s.--Total £317.--See David Laing's Catalogue, pp. 99-108, for an account of the dispersion and sales of the original MSS., prose and poetry.

[449] Miss J. Erskine, a daughter of Lord Kinnedder's. She died in 1838.--J.G.L.

[450] The Rev. N. Paterson, author of _The Manse Garden_; afterwards minister of St. Andrew's, Glasgow. He died in 1871. Mr. Paterson was a grandson of Robert Paterson, "Old Mortality," and brother of the Rev. Walter Paterson, minister of Kirkurd, author of the _Legend of Iona_--a poem written in imitation of the style of Scott, and in which he recognises his obligations to Sir Walter in the following terms:--"From him I derived courage to persevere in an undertaking on which I had often reflected with terror and distrust."--_Legend_, notes, p. 305.

[451] Mr. John Smith of Darnick, the builder of Abbotsford, and architect of these bridges.--J.G.L.

[452] This gentleman died in Edinburgh on the 4th February 1838.--J.G.L.

[453] The late Captain Watson, R.N., was distantly related to Sir Walter's mother. His son, Sir John Watson Gordon, rose to great eminence as a painter; and his portraits of Scott and Hogg rank among his best pieces. He became President of the Royal Scottish Academy in 1850, died in 1864, leaving funds to endow a Chair of Fine Arts in the Edinburgh University.

[454] Mr. W.F. Skene, Historiographer Royal for Scotland, and son of Scott's dear friend, has been good enough to give me his recollections of these days:--

"On referring to my Diary for the year 1831 I find the following entry: 'This Spring, on 31st April, I went with my father to Abbotsford and left on Sir Walter Scott being taken ill.' The date here given for my visit does not correspond with that in Sir Walter's Diary, but, as there are only thirty days in April it has evidently been written by mistake for the 13th. I had just attained my twenty-first year, and as such a visit at that early age was a great event in my life, I retain a very distinct recollection of the main features of it. I recollect that Lord Meadowbank and his eldest son Alan came at the same time, and the dinner party, at which Mr. Pringle of the Haining and his brother were present. The day after our arrival Sir Walter asked me to drive with him. We went in his open carriage to the Yarrow, where we got out, and Sir Walter, leaning on my arm, walked up the side of the river, pouring forth a continuous stream of anecdotes, traditions, and scraps of ballads. I was in the seventh heaven of delight, and thought I had never spent such a day. On Sunday Sir Walter did not come down to breakfast, but sent a message to say that he had caught cold and had taken some medicine for it the night before, which had made him ill, and would remain in bed. When we sat at either lunch or dinner, I do not recollect which, Sir Walter walked into the room and sat down near the table, but ate nothing. He seemed in a dazed state, and took no notice of any one, but after a few minutes' silence, during which his daughter Anne, who was at table, and was watching him with some anxiety, motioned to us to take no notice, he began in a quiet voice to tell us a story of a pauper lunatic, who, fancying he was a rich man, and was entertaining all sorts of high persons to the most splendid banquets, communicated to his doctor in confidence that there was one thing that troubled him much, and which he could not account for, and that was that all these exquisite dishes seemed to him to taste of oatmeal porridge. Sir Walter told this with much humour, and after a few minutes' silence began again, and told the same story over a second time, and then again a third time.[E] His daughter, who was watching him with increasing anxiety, then motioned to us to rise from table, and persuaded her father to return to his bedroom. Next day the doctor, who had been sent for, told us that he was seriously ill, and advised that his guests should leave at once, so that the house might be kept quiet and his daughter devote herself entirely to the care of her father. We accordingly left at once, and I never saw Sir Walter again. I still, however, retain a memorial of my visit. I had fallen into indifferent health in the previous year, and been recommended Highland air. By Sir Walter's advice I was sent to live with a friend of his, the Reverend Doctor Macintosh Mackay, then minister of Laggan, in the Inverness-shire Highlands, and had passed my time learning from him the Gaelic language. This excited in me a taste for Celtic Antiquities, and finding in Sir Walter's Library a copy of O'Connor's _Rerum Hibernicarum Scriptores veteres_, I sat up one night transcribing from it the Annals of Tighernac. This transcript is still in my library.--WILLIAM F. SKENE.

"27 INVERLEITH ROW, Sept. 1890."

[E] An echo of one of his own singular illustrations (see _Letters on Demonology_) of the occasional collision between a disturbed imagination and the organs of sense.

[455] _Æneid_ II. 62.

MAY.

_April_ 30 _and May_ 1.--To meet Sandy Pringle to settle the day of election on Monday. Go on with _Count Robert_ half-a-dozen leaves per day. I am not much pleased with my handiwork. The Chancery money seems like to be paid. This will relieve me of poor Charles, who is at present my chief burthen. The task of pumping my brains becomes inevitably harder when "both chain-pumps are choked below;"[456] and though this may not be the case literally, yet the apprehension is wellnigh as bad.

_May_ 2.--The day passed as usual in dictating (too little) and riding a good deal. I must get finished with _Count Robert_, who is progressing, as the Transatlantics say, at a very slow pace indeed. By the bye, I have a letter from Nathan T. Rossiter, Williamstown, New York City, offering me a collection of poems by Byron, which are said to have been found in Italy some years since by a friend of Mr. Rossiter. I don't see I can at all be entitled to these, so shall write to decline them. If Mr. Rossiter chooses to publish them in Italy or America he may, but, published here, they must be the property of Lord Byron's executors.

_May_ 3.--Sophia arrives--with all the children looking well and beautiful, except poor Johnnie, who looks very pale. But it is no wonder, poor thing!

_May_ 4.--I have a letter from Lockhart, promising to be down by next Wednesday, that is, to-day. I will consult him about Byron's Exec., and as to these poems said to be his Lordship's. They are very probably first copies thrown aside, or may not be genuine at all. I will be glad to see Lockhart. My pronunciation is a good deal improved. My time glides away ill employed, but I am afraid of the palsy. I should not like to be pinned to my chair. But I believe even that kind of life is more endurable than we could suppose. Your wishes are limited to your little circle--yet the idea is terrible to a man who has been active. My own circle in bodily matters is daily narrowing; not so in intellectual matters, but I am perhaps a bad judge. The plough is coming to the end of the furrow, so it is likely I shall not reach the common goal of mortal life by a few years. I am now in my sixtieth year only, and

"Three score and ten years do sum up."[457]

_May_ 5.--A fleece of letters, which must be answered, I suppose--all from persons, my zealous admirers, of course, and expecting a degree of generosity, which will put to rights all their maladies, physical and mental; and expecting that I can put to rights whatever losses have been their lot, raise them to a desirable rank, and [stand] their protector and patron. I must, they take it for granted, be astonished at having an address from a stranger; on the contrary, I would be astonished if any of these extravagant epistles were from any one who had the least title to enter into correspondence with me. I have all the plague of answering these teasing people.

Mr. Burn, the architect, came in, struck by the appearance of my house from the road. He approved my architecture greatly. He tells me the edifice for Jeanie Deans--that is, her prototype--is nigh finished, so I must get the inscription ready.[458] Mr. Burn came to meet with Pringle of Haining; but, alas! it is two nights since this poor young man, driving in from his own lake, where he had been fishing, an ill-broken horse ran away with him, and, at his own stable-door, overturned the vehicle and fractured poor Pringle's skull; he died yesterday morning. A sad business; so young a man, the proprietor of a good estate, and a well-disposed youth. His politics were, I think, mistaken, being the reverse of his father's; but that is nothing at such a time. Burn went on to Richardson's place of Kirklands, where he is to meet the proprietor, whom I too would wish to see, but I can hardly make it out. Here is a world of arrangements. I think we will soon hit upon something. My son Walter takes leave of me to-day to return to Sheffield. At his entreaty I have agreed to put in a seton, which they seem all to recommend. My own opinion is, this addition to my tortures will do me no good; but I cannot hold out against my son. So, when the present blister is well over, let them try their seton as they call it.

_May_ 6 _and_ 7.--Here is a precious job. I have a formal remonstrance from these critical persons, Ballantyne and Cadell, against the last volume of _Count Robert_, which is within a sheet of being finished. I suspect their opinion will be found to coincide with that of the public; at least it is not very different from my own. The blow is a stunning one I suppose, for I scarcely feel it. It is singular, but it comes with as little surprise as if I had a remedy ready. Yet God knows, I am at sea in the dark, and the vessel leaky, I think, into the bargain. I cannot conceive that I should have tied a knot with my tongue which my teeth cannot untie. We will see. I am determined to write a political pamphlet _coûte que coûte_; ay,--should it cost me my life.

I will right and left at these unlucky proof-sheets, and alter at least what I cannot mend.

_May_ 8.--I have suffered terribly, that is the truth, rather in body than in mind, and I often wish I could lie down and sleep without waking. But I will fight it out if I can. It would argue too great an attachment of consequence to my literary labours to sink under. Did I know how to begin, I would begin this very day, although I knew I should sink at the end. After all, this is but fear and faintness of heart, though of another kind from that which trembleth at a loaded pistol. My bodily strength is terribly gone; perhaps my mental too?

_May_ 9.--The weather uncommonly beautiful and I am very eager to get on thinning woods while the peeling season lasts. We made about £200 off wood last season, and this is a sum worth looking at.

_May_ 10.--Some repairs on the mill-dam still keep the people employed, and we cannot get to the thinning. Yet I have been urging them for a month. It's a great fault of Scottish servants that they cannot be taught to time their turns.

_May_ 11.--By old practice I should be going into town to-day, the Court sitting to-morrow. Am I happier that I am free from this charge? Perhaps I am; that is certain, time begins to make my literary labour more precious than usual. Very weak, scarce able to crawl about without the pony--lifted on and off--and unable to walk half a mile save with great pain.

_May_ 12.--Resolved to lay by _Robert of Paris_, and take it up when I can work. Thinking on it really makes my head swim, and that is not safe. Miss Ferrier comes out to us. This gifted personage, besides having great talents, has conversation the least _exigeante_ of any author, female at least, whom I have ever seen among the long list I have encountered,--simple, full of humour, and exceedingly ready at repartee; and all this without the least affectation of the blue stocking.[459]

_May_ 13.--Mr., or more properly Dr., Macintosh Mackay comes out to see me, a simple learned man, and a Highlander who weighs his own nation justly--a modest and estimable person.

I was beat up at midnight to sign a warrant against some delinquents. I afterwards heard that the officers were pursued by a mob from Galashiels, with purpose of deforcing them as far as St. Boswell's Green, but the men were lodged in Jedburgh Castle.

Reports of mobs at all the elections, which, I fear, will prove too true. They have much to answer for who in gaiety of heart have brought a peaceful and virtuous population to such a pass.

_May_ 14.--Rode with Lockhart and Mr. Mackay through the plantations, and spent a pleasanter day than of late months. Story of a haunted glen in Laggan:--A chieftain's daughter or cousin loved a man of low degree. Her kindred discovered the intrigue and punished the lover's presumption by binding the unhappy man, and laying him naked in one of the large ants' nests common in a Highland forest. He died in agony of course, and his mistress became distracted, roamed wildly in the glen till she died, and her phantom, finding no repose, haunted it after her death to such a degree that the people shunned the road by day as well as night. Mrs. Grant of Laggan tells the story, with the addition, that her husband, then minister of Laggan, fixed a religious meeting in the place, and, by the exercise of public worship there, overcame the popular terror of the Red Woman. Dr. Mackay seems to think that she was rather banished by a branch of the Parliamentary road running up the glen than by the prayers of his predecessor. Dr. Mackay, it being Sunday, favoured us with an excellent discourse on the Socinian controversy, which I wish my friend Mr. Laidlaw had heard.

_May_ 15.--Dr. M. left us early this morning; and I rode and studied as usual, working at the _Tales of My Grandfather_. Our good and learned Doctor wishes to go down the Tweed to Berwick. It is a laudable curiosity, and I hope will be agreeably satisfied.

_May_ 16 _and_ 17.--I wrote and rode as usual, and had the pleasure of Miss Ferrier's company in my family hours, which was a great satisfaction; she has certainly less affectation than any female I have known that has stood so high--Joanna Baillie hardly excepted. By the way, she [Mrs. Baillie] has entered on the Socinian controversy, for which I am very sorry; she has published a number of texts on which she conceives the controversy to rest, but it escapes her that she can only quote them through a translation. I am sorry this gifted woman is hardly doing herself justice, and doing what is not required at her hands. Mr. Laidlaw of course thinks it the finest thing in the world.[460]

_May_ 18.--Went to Jedburgh to the election, greatly against the wishes of my daughters. The mob were exceedingly vociferous and brutish, as they usually are now-a-days. But the Sheriff had two troops of dragoons at Ancrum Bridge, and all went off quietly. The populace gathered in formidable numbers--a thousand from Hawick alone; they were sad blackguards, and the day passed with much clamour and no mischief. Henry Scott was re-elected--for the last time, I suppose. _Troja fuit._

I left the burgh in the midst of abuse and the gentle hint of "Burke Sir Walter." Much obliged to the brave lads of Jeddart. Upwards of forty freeholders voted for Henry Scott, and only fourteen for the puppy that opposed him. Even of this party he gained far the greater number by the very awkward coalition with Sir William Scott of Ancrum. I came home at seven at night.

_May_ 20.--This is the Selkirk election, which I supposed would be as tumultuous as the Jedburgh one, but the soutars of Selkirk had got a new light, and saw in the proposed Reform Bill nothing but a mode of disfranchising their ancient burgh. Although the crowd was great, yet there was a sufficient body of special constables, hearty in their useful office, and the election passed as quietly as I ever witnessed one. I came home before dinner, very quiet. I am afraid there is something serious in Galashiels; Jeffrey is fairly funked about it, and has written letters to the authorities of Roxburghshire and Selkirkshire to caution us against making the precognitions public, which looks ill. Yet I think he would have made arrests when the soldiers were in the country. The time at which I settled at Abbotsford, Whitsunday 1811, I broke up a conspiracy of the weavers. It will look like sympathising with any renewal if another takes place just now. Incendiary letters have been sent, and the householders are in a general state of alarm. The men at Jedburgh Castle are said to be disposed to make a clean breast; if so, we shall soon know more of the matter. Lord William Graham has been nearly murdered at Dumbarton. Why should he not have brought down 50 or 100 lads with the kilts, each with a good kent[461] in his hand fit to call the soul out of the body of these weavers? They would have kept order, I warrant you.

_May_ 21.--Little more than my usual work and my usual exercise. I rode out through the plantations and saw the woodmen getting down what was to be felled. It seems there will be as much for sale as last year of bark: I think about £40 worth. A very nice additional pond to the sawmill has been executed. As for my _Tales_, they go on well, and are amusing to myself at least. The History of France is very entertaining.

_May_ 22.--I have a letter from my friend John Thomson of Duddingston. I had transmitted him an order for the Duke of Buccleuch for his best picture, at his best price, leaving the choice of the subject and everything else to himself. He expresses the wish to do, at an ordinary price, a picture of common size. The declining to put himself forward will, I fear, be thought like shrinking from his own reputation, which nobody has less need to do. The Duke may wish a large picture for a large price for furnishing a large apartment, and the artist should not shrink from it. I have written him my opinion. The feeling is no doubt an amiable, though a false one. He is modest in proportion to his talents. But what brother of the finer arts ever approached [excellence] so as to please himself?

_May_ 23, 24, _and_ 25.--Worked and exercised regularly. I do not feel that I care twopence about the change of diet as to taste, but I feel my strength much decayed. On horseback my spine feels remarkably sore, and I am tired with a few miles' ride. We expect Walter coming down for the Fife election.

* * * * *

[From May 25th to October 9th there are no dates in the Journal, but the entry beginning "I have been very ill" must have been made about the middle of September. "In the family circle," says Mr. Lockhart, "he seldom spoke of his illness at all, and when he did, it was always in a hopeful strain." "In private, to Laidlaw and myself, his language corresponded exactly with the tone of the Diary. He expressed his belief that the chances of recovery were few--very few--but always added that he considered it his duty to exert what faculties remained to him for the sake of his creditors to the very last.--'I am very anxious,' he repeatedly said to me, 'to be done one way or other with this _Count Robert_, and a little story about the Castle Dangerous--which also I had long in my head--but after that I will attempt nothing more, at least not until I have finished all the notes for the Novels,'" etc.

On the 18th July he set out in company with Mr. Lockhart to visit Douglas Castle, St. Bride's Church and its neighbourhood, for the purpose of verifying the scenery of _Castle Dangerous_, then partly printed, returning on the 20th.

He finished that book and _Count Robert_ before the end of August.

In September, Mr. Lockhart, then staying at Chiefswood, and proposing to make a run into Lanarkshire for a day or two, mentioned overnight at Abbotsford that he intended to take his second son, then a boy of five or six years of age, and Sir Walter's namesake, with him on the stage-coach.

Next morning the following affectionate billet was put into his hands:--

To J.G. LOCKHART, Esq., Chiefswood.

"DEAR DON, or Doctor Giovanni,

"Can you really be thinking of taking Wa-Wa by the coach--and I think you said outside? Think of Johnny, and be careful of this little man. Are you _par hazard_ something in the state of the poor capitaine des dragons that comes in singing:--

'Comment? Parbleu! Qu'en pensez vous, Bon gentilhomme, et pas un sous'?

"If so, remember 'Richard's himself again,' and make free use of the enclosed cheque on Cadell for £50. He will give you the ready as you pass through, and you can pay when I ask.

"Put horses to your carriage, and go hidalgo fashion. We shall all have good days yet.

'And those sad days you deign to spend With me I shall requite them all; Sir Eustace for his friends shall send And thank their love in Grayling Hall!'[462]

"W.S."[463]

On the 15th September he tells the Duke of Buccleuch, "I am going to try whether the air of Naples will make an old fellow of sixty young again."

On the 17th the old splendour of the house was revived. Col. Glencairn Burns, son of the poet, then in Scotland, came

"To stir with joy the towers of Abbotsford."

The neighbours were assembled, and, having his son to help him, Sir Walter did the honours of the table once more as of yore.

On the 19th the poet Wordsworth arrived, and left on the 22d.

On the 20th, Mrs. Lockhart set out for London to prepare for her father's reception there, and on the 23d Sir Walter left Abbotsford for London, where he arrived on the 28th.[464]]

FOOTNOTES:

[456] Falconer's _Shipwreck_, p. 162--"The Storm." 12mo ed. London, Albion Press, 1810.

[457] Scotch Metrical Version of the 90th Psalm.

[458] On the 18th October Sir Walter sent Mr. Burn the following inscription for the monument he had commissioned, and which now stands in the churchyard of Irongray:--

"This stone was erected by the Author of Waverley to the memory of Helen Walker, who died in the year of God 1791. This humble individual practised in real life the virtues with which fiction has invested the imaginary character of Jeanie Deans; refusing the slightest departure from veracity, even to save the life of a sister, she nevertheless showed her kindness and fortitude, in rescuing her from the severity of the law, at the expense of personal exertions, which the time rendered as difficult as the motive was laudable. Respect the grave of Poverty when combined with the love of Truth and dear affection."

It is well known that on the publication of _Old Mortality_ many people were offended by what was considered a caricature of the Covenanters, and that Dr. M'Crie, the biographer of Knox, wrote a series of papers in the _Edinburgh Christian Instructor_, which Scott affected to despise, and said he would not read. He not only was obliged to read the articles, but found it necessary to inspire or write an elaborate defence of the truth of his own picture of the Covenanters in the Number for January 1817 of the _Quarterly Review_.

In June 1818, however, he made ample amends, and won the hearts of all classes of his countrymen by his beautiful pictures of national character in the _Heart of Midlothian_.

It is worth noticing also that ten years later, viz., in December 1828, his friend Richardson having written that in the _Tales of a Grandfather_ "You have paid a debt which you owed to the manes of the Covenanters for the flattering picture which you drew of Claverhouse in _Old Mortality_. His character is inconceivable to me: the atrocity of his murder of those peasants, as undauntedly devoted to their own good cause as himself to his, his personal (almost hangman-like) superintendence of their executions, are wholly irreconcilable with a chivalrous spirit, which, however scornful of the lowly, could never, in my mind, be cruel," Scott, in reply, gave his matured opinion in the following words:--

"As to Covenanters and Malignants, they were both a set of cruel and bloody bigots, and had, notwithstanding, those virtues with which bigotry is sometimes allied. Their characters were of a kind much more picturesque than beautiful; neither had the least idea either of toleration or humanity, so that it happens that, so far as they can be distinguished from each other, one is tempted to hate most the party which chances to be uppermost for the time."

[459] See Miss Ferrier's account of this visit prefixed to Mr. Bentley's choice edition of her works, 6 vols. cr. 8vo, London, 1881.

[460] Mr. Carruthers remarks in his Abbotsford _Notanda_:--"Joanna Baillie published a thin volume of selections from the New Testament 'regarding the nature and dignity of Jesus Christ.' The tendency of the work was Socinian, or at least Arian, and Scott was indignant that his friend should have meddled with such a subject. 'What had she to do with questions of that sort?' He refused to add the book to his library and gave it to Laidlaw."--p. 179.

[461] A long staff.

[462] See Crabbe's _Sir Eustace Grey_.

[463] _Life_, vol. x. pp. 100-1.

[464] See _Life_, vol. x. pp. 76-106.

OCTOBER.

INTERVAL.

I have been very ill, and if not quite unable to write, I have been unfit to do so. I have wrought, however, at two Waverley things, but not well, and, what is worse, past mending. A total prostration of bodily strength is my chief complaint. I cannot walk half a mile. There is, besides, some mental confusion, with the extent of which I am not perhaps fully acquainted. I am perhaps setting. I am myself inclined to think so, and, like a day that has been admired as a fine one, the light of it sets down amid mists and storms. I neither regret nor fear the approach of death if it is coming. I would compound for a little pain instead of this heartless muddiness of mind which renders me incapable of anything rational. The expense of my journey will be something considerable, which I can provide against by borrowing £500 from Mr. Gibson. To Mr. Cadell I owe already, with the cancels on these apoplectic books, about £200, and must run it up to £500 more at least; yet this heavy burthen would be easily borne if I were to be the Walter Scott I once was; but the change is great. This would be nothing, providing that I could count on these two books having a sale equal to their predecessors; but as they do not deserve the same countenance, they will not and cannot have such a share of favour, and I have only to hope that they will not involve the _Waverley_, which are now selling 30,000 volumes a month, in their displeasure. Something of a Journal and the _Reliquiae Trotcosienses_ will probably be moving articles, and I have in short no fears in pecuniary matters. The ruin which I fear involves that of my King and country. Well says Colin Mackenzie:--

"Shall this desolation strike thy towers alone? No, fair Ellandonan! such ruin 'twill bring, That the storm shall have power to unsettle the throne, And thy fate shall be mixed with the fate of thy King."[465]

I fear that the great part of the memorialists are bartering away the dignity of their rank by seeking to advance themselves by a job, which is a melancholy sight. The ties between democrat and aristocrat are sullen discontent with each other. The former are regarded as a house-dog which has manifested incipient signs of canine madness, and is not to be trusted. Walter came down to-day to join our party.

[_September_ 20?]--Yesterday, Wordsworth, his son [nephew[466]] and daughter, came to see us, and we went up to Yarrow. The eldest son of Lord Ravensworth also came to see us, with his accomplished lady. We had a pleasant party, and to-day were left by the Liddells, _manent_ the three Wordsworths, _cum cæteris_, a German or Hungarian Count Erdödy, or some such name.

We arrived in London [September 28,] after a long and painful journey, the weakness of my limbs palpably increasing, and the physic prescribed making me weaker every day. Lockhart, poor fellow, is as attentive as possible, and I have, thank God, no pain whatever; could the end be as easy it would be too happy. I fancy the instances of Euthanasia are not very uncommon. Instances there certainly are among the learned and the unlearned--Dr.

Black, Tom Purdie. I should wish, if it please God, to sleep off in such a quiet way; but we must take what Fate sends. I have not warm hopes of being myself again.

Wordsworth and his daughter, a fine girl, were with us on the last day. I tried to write in her diary, and made an ill-favoured botch--no help for it. "Stitches will wear, and ill ones will out," as the tailor says.[467]

[_October_ 8, London.]--The King has located me on board the _Barham_, with my suite, consisting of my eldest son, youngest daughter, and perhaps my daughter-in-law, which, with poor Charles, will make a goodly tail. I fancy the head of this tail cuts a poor figure, scarce able to stir about.

The town is in a foam with politics. The report is that the Lords will throw out the Bill, and now, morning of 8th October, I learn it is quoited downstairs like a shovel-board shilling, with a plague to it, as the most uncalled-for attack upon a free constitution, under which men lived happily, which ever was ventured in my day. Well, it would have been pleasing to have had some share in so great a victory, yet even now I am glad I have been quiet. I believe I should only have made a bad figure. Well, I will have time enough to think of all this.

_October_ 9.--The report to-day is that the Chancellor[468] will unite with the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel to bring in a Bill of his own concocting, modified to the taste of the other two, with which some think they will be satisfied. This is not very unlikely, for Lord Brougham has been displeased with not having been admitted to Lord John Russell's task of bill-drawing. He is a man of unbounded ambition, as well as unbounded talent and [uncertain] temper. There have been hosts of people here, particularly the Duke of Buccleuch, to ask me to the christening of his son and heir, when the King stands godfather. I am asked as an ally and friend of the family, which makes the compliment greater. Singular that I should have stood godfather to this Duke himself, representing some great man.

_October_ 10.--Yesterday we dined alone, so I had an opportunity of speaking seriously to John; but I fear procrastination. It is the cry of Friar Bacon's Brazen head, _time is--time was_; but the time may soon come--_time shall be no more_. The Whigs are not very bold, not much above a hundred met to support Lord Grey to the last. Their resolutions are moderate, probably because they could not have carried stronger. I went to breakfast at Sir Robert Henry Inglis', and coming home about twelve found the mob rising in the Regent's Park, and roaring for Reform as rationally as a party of Angusshire cattle would have done.

Sophia seemed to act as the jolly host in the play. "These are my windows," and, shutting the shutters, "let them batter--I care not serving the good Duke of Norfolk." After a time they passed out of our sight, hurrying doubtless to seek a more active scene of reformation. As the night closed, the citizens who had hitherto contented themselves with shouting, became more active, and when it grew dark set forth to make work for the glaziers.

_October_ 11, _Tuesday_.--We set out in the morning to breakfast with Lady Gifford. We passed several glorious specimens of the last night's feats of the reformers. The Duke of Newcastle's and Lord Dudley's houses were sufficiently broken. The maidens, however, had resisted, and from the top of the house with coals, which had greatly embarrassed the assembled mob. Surely if the people are determined on using a right so questionable, and the Government resolved to consider it as too sacred to be resisted, some modes of resistance might be resorted to of a character more ludicrous than firearms,--coals, for example, scalding oil, boiling water, or some other mode of defence against a sudden attack. We breakfasted with a very pleasant party at Lady Gifford's. I was particularly happy to meet Lord Sidmouth; at seventy-five, he tells me, as much in health and spirits as at sixty. I also met Captain Basil Hall, to whom I owe so much for promoting my retreat in so easy a manner. I found my appointment to the _Barham_ had been pointed out by Captain Henry Duncan, R.N., as being a measure which would be particularly agreeable to the officers of the service. This is too high a compliment. In returning I called to see the repairs at Lambeth, which are proceeding under the able direction of Blore, who met me there. They are in the best Gothic taste, and executed at the expense of a large sum, to be secured by way of mortgage, payable in fifty years; each incumbent within the time paying a proportion of about £4000 a year. I was pleased to see this splendour of church architecture returning again.

Lord Mahon, a very amiable as well as a clever young man, comes to dinner with Mr. Croker; Lady Louisa Stuart in the afternoon, or, more properly, at night.

_October_ 12.--Misty morning--looks like a yellow fog, which is the curse of London. I would hardly take my share of it for a share of its wealth and its curiosity--a vile double-distilled fog of the most intolerable kind. Children scarce stirring yet, but baby and the Macaw beginning their Macaw notes. Among other feats of the mob on Monday, a gentleman who saw the onslaught told me two men got on Lord Londonderry's carriage and struck him; the chief constable came to the rescue and belaboured the rascals, who ran and roared. I should have liked to have seen the onslaught--Dry beating, and plenty of it, is a great operator of a reform among these gentry. At the same time Lord Londonderry is a brain-sick man, very unlike his brother. He horsewhipped a sentinel under arms at Vienna for obeying his _consigne_, which was madness. On the other side all seems to be prepared. Heavy bodies of the police are stationed in all the squares and places supporting each other regularly. The men themselves say that their numbers amount to 3000, and that they are supported by troops in still greater numbers, so that the Conservative force is sufficiently strong. Four o'clock--a letter from the Duke saying the party is put off by command of the King, and probably the day will be put off until the Duke's return from Scotland, so our hopes of seeing the fine ceremony are all ended.

_October_ 13.--_Nocte pluit tota_--an excellent recipe for a mob, so they have been quiet accordingly, as we are informed. Two or three other wet nights would do much to weary them out with inactivity. Milman, whom I remember a fine gentlemanlike young man, dined here yesterday. He says the fires have never ceased in his country, but that the oppressions and sufferings occasioned by the poor's rates are very great, and there is no persuading the English farmer that an amended system is comfortable both for rich and poor. The plan of ministers is to keep their places maugre Peers and Commons both, while they have the countenance of the crown; but if a Prince shelters, by authority of the prerogative, ministers against the will of the other authority of the state, does he not quit the defence which supposes he can do no wrong? This doctrine would make a curious change of parties. Will they attempt to legitimize the Fitz Clarences? God forbid! Yet it may end in that,--it would be Paris all over. The family is said to have popular qualities. Then what would be the remedy? Marry! seize on the person of the Princess Victoria, carrying her north and setting up the banner of England with the Duke of W. as dictator! Well, I am too old to fight, and therefore should keep the windy side of the law; besides, I shall be buried before times come to a decision. In the meantime the King dare not go to stand godfather to the son of one of his most powerful peers, a party of his own making, lest his loving subjects pull the house about the ears of his noble host and the company invited to meet him. Their loyalty has a pleasant way of displaying itself. I will go to Westminster after breakfast and see what people are saying, and whether the _Barham_ is likely to sail, or whether its course is not altered to the coast of the Low Countries instead of the Mediterranean.

_October_ 14.--Tried to walk to Lady Louisa Stuart's, but took a little vertigo and came back. Much disturbed by a letter from Walter. He is like to be sent on an obnoxious service with very inadequate force, little prospect of thanks if he does his duty, and much of blame if he is unable to accomplish it. I have little doubt he will ware his mother's calf-skin on them.

The manufacturing districts are in great danger. London seems pretty secure. Sent off the revise of introduction to Mr. Cadell.[469]

_October_ 16.--A letter from Walter with better news. He has been at hard-heads with the rogues and come off with advantage; in short, practised with success the art of drawing two souls out of one weaver.[470] All seems quiet now, and I suppose the Major will get his leave as proposed. Two ladies--[one] Byron's Mary Chaworth--have been frightened to death while the mob tore the dying creatures from their beds and proposed to throw them into the flames, drank the wine, destroyed the furniture, and committed other excesses of a jacquerie.[471] They have been put down, however, by a strong force of yeomanry and regulars. Walter says the soldiers fired over the people's heads, whereas if they had levelled low, the bullets must have told more among the multitude. I cannot approve of this, for in such cases severity is ultimate mercy.[472] However, if they have made a sufficient impression to be striking--why, enough is as good as a feast.

There is a strange story about town of ghost-seeing vouched by Lord Prudhoe, a near relation of the Duke of Northumberland, and whom I know as an honourable man. A colonel described as a cool-headed sensible man of worth and honour, Palgrave, who dined with us yesterday, told us twice over the story as vouched by Lord Prudhoe, and Lockhart gave us Colonel Felix's edition, which coincided exactly. I will endeavour to extract the essence of both. While at Grand Cairo they were attracted by the report of a physician who could do the most singular magical feats, and was in the habit not only of relieving the living, but calling up the dead. This sage was the member of a tribe in the interior part of Africa. They were some time (two years) in finding him out, for he by no means pressed himself on the curious, nor did he on the other hand avoid them; but when he came to Grand Cairo readily agreed to gratify them by a sight of his wonders. The scenes exhibited were not visible to the operator himself, nor to the person for whose satisfaction they were called up, but, as in the case of Dr. Dee and other adepts, by means of a viewer, an ignorant Nubian boy, whom, to prevent imposition, the English gentlemen selected for the purpose, and, as they thought, without any risk of imposture by confederacy betwixt him and the physician. The process was as follows:--A black square was drawn in the palm of the boy's hand, or rather a kind of pentacle with an Arabic character inscribed at each angle. The figures evoked were seen through this space as if the substance of the hand had been removed. Magic rites, and particularly perfumes, were liberally resorted to. After some fumigation the magician declared that they could not proceed until the seven flags should become visible. The boy declared he saw nothing, then said he saw a flag, then two; often hesitated at the number for a certain time, and on several occasions the spell did not work and the operation went no further, but in general the boy saw the seven flags through the aperture in his hand. The magician then said they must call the Sultan, and the boy said he saw a splendid tent fixed, surrounded by immense hosts, Eblis no doubt, and his angels. The person evoked was then named, and appeared accordingly. The only indispensable requisite was that he was named speedily, for the Sultan did not like to be kept waiting. Accordingly, William Shakespeare being named, the boy declared that he saw a Frank in a dress which he described as that of the reign of Elizabeth or her successor, having a singular countenance, a high forehead, and a very little beard. Another time a brother of the Colonel was named. The boy said he saw a Frank in his uniform dress and a black groom behind him leading a superb horse. The dress was a red jacket and white pantaloons; and the principal figure turning round, the boy announced that he wanted his arm, as was the case with Felix's brother. The ceremony was repeated fourteen times; successfully in twelve instances, and in two it failed from non-appearance of the seven banners in the first instance. The apparent frankness of the operator was not the least surprising part of the affair. He made no mystery, said he possessed this power by inheritance, as a family gift; yet that he could teach it, and was willing to do so, for no enormous sum--nay, one which seemed very moderate. I think two gentlemen embraced the offer. One of them is dead and the other still abroad. The sage also took a price for the exhibition of his skill, but it was a moderate one, being regulated by the extent of the perfumes consumed in the ceremony.

There remains much more to ask I understood the witnesses do not like to bother about, which is very natural. One would like to know a little more of the Sultan, of the care taken to secure the fidelity of the boy who was the viewer and on whom so much depended; whether another sage practising the same feat, as it was said to be hereditary, was ever known to practise in the city. The truth of a story irreconcilable with the common course of nature must depend on cross-examination. If we should find, while at Malta, that we had an opportunity of expiscating this matter, though at the expense of a voyage to Alexandria, it would hardly deter me.[473] The girls go to the Chapel Royal this morning at St. James's. A visit from the Honourable John Forbes, son of my old and early friend Lord Forbes, who is our fellow-passenger. The ship expects presently to go to sea. I was very glad to see this young officer and to hear his news. Drummond and I have been Mends from our infancy.

_October_ 17.--The morning beautiful. To-day I go to look after the transcripts in the Museum and have a card to see a set of chessmen[474] thrown up by the sea on the coast of Scotland, which were offered to sale for £100. The King, Queen, Knights, etc., were in the costume of the 14th century, the substance ivory or rather the tusk of the morse, somewhat injured by the salt water in which they had been immersed for some time.

Sir John Malcolm told us a story about Garrick and his wife. The lady admired her husband greatly, but blamed him for a taste for low life, and insisted that he loved better to play Scrub to a low-lifed audience than one of his superior characters before an audience of taste. On one particular occasion she was in her box in the theatre. _Richard III_. was the performance, and Garrick's acting, especially in the night scene, drew down universal applause. After the play was over Mrs. G. proposed going home, which Garrick declined, alleging he had some business in the green-room, which must detain him. In short, the lady was obliged to acquiesce, and wait the beginning of a new entertainment, in which was introduced a farmer giving his neighbours an account of the wonders seen on a visit to London. This character was received with such peals of applause that Mrs. Garrick began to think it rivalled those which had been so lately lavished on Richard the Third. At last she observed her little spaniel dog was making efforts to get towards the balcony which separated him from the facetious farmer. Then she became aware of the truth. "How strange," she said, "that a dog should know his master, and a woman, in the same circumstances, should not recognise her husband!"

_October 18_.--Sophia had a small but lively party last night, as indeed she has had every night since we were here--Ladies--[Lady Stafford,] Lady Louisa Stuart, Lady Montagu, Miss Montagu, Lady [Davy], [Mrs.] Macleod, and two or three others; Gentlemen--Lord Montagu, Macleod, Lord Dudley, Rogers [Mackintosh]. A good deal of singing. If Sophia keeps to early hours she may beat London for small parties as poor Miss White did, and without much expense. A little address is all that is necessary. Sir John[475] insists on my meeting this Rammohun Roy;[476] I am no believer in his wandering knight, so far. The time is gone of sages who travelled to collect wisdom as well as heroes to reap honour. Men think and fight for money. I won't see the man if I can help it. Flatterers are difficult enough to keep at a distance though they be no renegades. I hate a fellow who begins with throwing away his own religion, and then affects a prodigious respect for another.

_October 19_.--Captain H. Duncan called with Captain Pigot, a smart-looking gentlemanlike man, and announces his purpose of sailing on Monday. I have made my preparations for being on board on Sunday, which is the day appointed. Captain Duncan told me jocularly never to take a naval captain's word on shore, and quoted Sir William Scott, who used to say, waggishly, that there was nothing so accommodating as a naval captain on shore; but when on board he became a peremptory lion. Henry Duncan has behaved very kindly, and says he only discharges the wishes of his service in making me as easy as possible, which is very handsome. No danger of feud, except about politics, which would be impolite on my part, and though it bars out one great subject of discourse, it leaves enough besides. That I might have nothing doubtful, Walter arrives with his wife, ready to sail, so what little remains must be done without loss of time. This is our last morning, so I have money to draw for and pay away. To see our dear Lord Montagu too. The Duchess came yesterday. I suppose £50 will clear me, with some balance for Gibraltar.

I leave this country uncertain if it has got a total pardon or only a reprieve. I won't think of it, as I can do no good. It seems to be in one of those crises by which Providence reduces nations to their original elements.[477] If I had my health, I should take no worldly fee, not to be in the bustle; but I am as weak as water, and I shall be glad when I have put the Mediterranean between the island and me.

_October 21 and 22_.--Spent in taking of farewell and adieus, which had been put off till now. A melancholy ceremonial, with some a useless one; yet there are friends whom it sincerely touches one to part with. It is the cement of life giving way in a moment. Another unpleasant circumstance is--one is called upon to recollect those whom death or estrangement has severed, after starting merrily together in the voyage of life.

_October 23_.--Portsmouth; arrived here in the evening. Found the _Barham_ will not sail till 26th October, that is Wednesday next. The girls break loose, mad with the craze of seeing sights, and run the risk of our losing some of our things and deranging the naval officers, who offer their services with their natural gallantry. Captain Pigot came to breakfast, with several other officials. The girls contrived to secure a sight of the Block manufactory, together with that of the Biscuit, also invented by Brunel. I think that I have seen the first of these wonderful [sights] in 1816, or about that time.[478] Sir Thomas Foley gives an entertainment to the Admiralty, and sends to invite [me]; but I pleaded health, and remained at home. Neither will I go out sight-seeing, which madness seems to have seized my womankind. This ancient town is one of the few in England which is fortified, and which gives it a peculiar appearance. It is much surrounded with heaths or thin poor muirs covered with heather, very barren, yet capable of being converted into rich arable and pasturage. I would [not] desire a better estate than to have 2000 acres which would be worth 40 shillings an acre.

_October_ 24.--My womankind are gone out with Walter and Captain Hall. I wish they would be moderate in their demands on people's complaisance. They little know how inconvenient are such seizures. A sailor is in particular a bad refuser, and before he can turn three times round, he is bound with a triple knot to all kinds of [engagements]. The wind is west, that is to say contrary, so our sailing on the day after to-morrow is highly doubtful.

_October_ 25.--A gloomy October day, the wind inflexibly constant in the west, which is fatal. Sir James Graham proposes to wait upon us after breakfast. A trouble occurs about my taking an oath before a master-extraordinary in Chancery; but such cannot easily be found, as they reside in chambers in town, and rusticate after business, so they are difficult to catch as an eel. At ten my children set off to the dockyard, which is a most prodigious effort of machinery, and they are promised the sight of an anchor in the act of being forged, a most cyclopean sight. Walter is to call upon the solicitor and appoint him to be with [me] by twelve.

About the reign of Henry VIII. the French took the pile, as it was called, of----,[479] but were beat off. About the end of the American war, an individual named John Aitken, or John the Painter, undertook to set the dockyard on fire, and in some degree accomplished his purpose. He had no accomplice, and to support himself committed solitary robberies. Being discovered, he long hung in chains near the outward fortifications. Last night a deputation of the Literary and Philosophical Society of [Portsmouth] came to present me with the honorary freedom of their body, which I accepted with becoming gratitude. There is little credit in gathering the name of a disabled invalid. Here I am, going a long and curious tour without ability to walk a quarter of a mile; quere, what hope of recovery? I think and think in vain, when attempting to trace the progress of this disease and so gradually has my health declined, that I believe it has been acting upon me for ten years, gradually diminishing my strength. My mental faculties may perhaps recover; my bodily strength cannot return unless climate has an effect on the human frame which I cannot possibly believe or comprehend. The safe resolution is, to try no foolish experiments, but make myself as easy as I can, without suffering myself to be vexed about what I cannot help. If I sit on the deck and look at Vesuvius, it will be all I ought to think of.

Having mentioned John the Painter, I may add that it was in this town of Portsmouth that the Duke of Buckingham was stabbed to death by Felton, a fanatic of the same kind with the Incendiary, though perpetrator of a more manly crime. This monster-breeding age can afford both Feltons and John Aitkens in abundance. Every village supplies them, while in fact a deep feeling of the coarsest selfishness furnishes the ruling motive, instead of an affectation of public spirit--that hackneyed affectation of patriotism, as like the reality as a Birmingham halfpenny to a guinea.

The girls, I regret to see, have got a senseless custom of talking politics in all weathers and in all sorts of company. This can do no good, and may give much offence. Silence can offend no one, and there are pleasanter or less irritating subjects to talk of. I gave them both a hint of this, and bid them both remember they were among ordinary strangers. How little young people reflect what they may win or lose by a smart reflection imprudently fired off at a venture!

Mr. Barrow of the Admiralty came and told us the whole fleet, _Barham_ excepted, were ordered to the North Sea to help to bully the King of Holland, and that Captain Pigot, whose motions are of more importance to us than those of the whole British Navy, sails, as certainly as these things can be prophesied, on Thursday, 27th October.

_October_ 26.--Here we still are, fixed by the inexorable wind. Yesterday we asked a few old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, and two or three others, to tea and talk. I engaged in a new novel, by Mr. Smith,[480] called _New Forest_. It is written in an old style, calculated to meet the popular ideas--somewhat like "Man as he is not"[481] and that class. The author's opinions seem rather to sit loose upon him and to be adopted for the nonce and not very well brought out. His idea of a hero is an American philosopher with all the affected virtues of a Republican which no man believes in.

This is very tiresome--not to be able to walk abroad for an instant, but to be kept in this old house which they call "The Fountain," a mansion made of wood in imitation of a ship. The timbers were well tried last night during the squall. The barometer has sunk an inch very suddenly, which seems to argue a change, and probably a deliverance from port. Sir Michael Seymour, Mr. Harris, Captain Lawrence came to greet us after breakfast; also Sir James Graham. They were all learned on this change of weather which seems to be generally expected. I had a good mess of Tory chat with Mr. Harris. We hope to see his daughters in the evening. He keeps his courage amid the despair of too many of his party. About one o'clock our Kofle, as Mungo Park words it, set out, self excluded, to witness the fleet sailing from the ramparts.

_October_ 27.--The weather is more moderate and there is a chance of our sailing. We whiled away our time as we could, relieved by several kind visits. We realised the sense of hopeless expectation described by Fielding in his Voyage to Lisbon, which identical tract Captain Hall, who in his eagerness to be kind seems in possession of the wishing-cap of Fortunatus, was able to provide for us. To-morrow is spoken of as certainly a day to move.

_October_ 28.--But the wind is as unfavourable as ever and I take a hobbling morning walk upon the rampart, where I am edified by a good-natured officer who shows me the place, marked by a buoy, where the _Royal George_ went down "with twice four hundred men."[482] Its hull forms a shoal which is still in existence, a neglect scarcely reconcilable with the splendour of our proceedings where our navy is concerned. Saw a battle on the rampart between two sailor boys, who fought like game-cocks. Returned to "The Fountain," to a voluminous breakfast. Captain Pigot calls, with little hope of sailing to-day. I made my civil affidavit yesterday to a master extraordinary in Chancery, which I gave to Sophia last night.

_October_ 29 (The _Barham_).--The weather is changed and I think we shall sail. Captain Forbes comes with offer of the Admiral Sir Michael Seymour's barge, but we must pause on our answer. I have had a very disturbed night. Captain Pigot's summons is at length brought by his own announcement, and the same time the Admiral's barge attends for our accommodation and puts us and our baggage on board the _Barham_, a beautiful ship, a 74 cut down to a 50, and well deserving all the commendations bestowed on her. The weather a calm which is almost equal to a favourable wind, so we glide beautifully along by the Isle of Wight and the outside of the island. We landsfolk feel these queerish sensations, when, without being in the least sick, we are not quite well. We dine enormously and take our cot at nine o'clock, when we sleep undisturbed till seven.

_October_ 30.--Find the Bill of Portland in sight, having run about forty miles during the night. About the middle of the day turn sea-sick and retire to my berth for the rest of the evening.

_October_ 31.--A sleepless night and a bilious morning, yet not so very uncomfortable as the phrase may imply. The bolts clashed, and made me dream of poor Bran. The wind being nearly completely contrary, we have by ten o'clock gained Plymouth and of course will stand westward for Cape Finisterre; terrible tossing and much sea-sickness, beating our passage against the turn. I may as well say we had a parting visit from Lady Graham, who came off in a steamer, saluted us in the distance and gave us by signal her "bon voyage." On Sunday we had prayers and Service from Mr. Marshall, our Chaplain, a Trinity College youth, who made a very respectable figure.

FOOTNOTES:

[465] See "Ellandonan Castle," in the _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, Scott's _Poetical Works_, vol. iv. p. 361.

[466] Now the Bishop of St. Andrews. As has been already said, Wordsworth arrived on the 19th and left on the 22d September, _i.e._ the visit lasted from Monday till Thursday. There are no dates in the Journal between May 25 and October 8, but Wordsworth says, "At noon on Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the morning of that day Sir Walter and I had a serious conversation _tête-à-tête_, when he spoke with gratitude of the happy life which upon the whole he had led."--Knight's _Wordsworth_, vol. iii. p. 201.

[467] Wordsworth notes that on placing the volume in his daughter's hand, Sir Walter said, "I should not have done anything of this kind but for your father's sake; they are probably the last verses I shall ever write."--Knight's _Wordsworth_, vol. iii. p. 201.

[468] Lord Brougham.

[469] The introductory address to _Count Robert of Paris_ bears the date October 15th, 1831.

[470] _Twelfth Night_, Act II. Sc. 3.

[471] See Moore's edition of _Byron's Works_, vol. vii. pp. 43-44, note.

[472] Scott's views received strong confirmation a few days later at Bristol, where the authorities, through mistaken humanity, hesitated to order the military to act.

[473] At Malta, accordingly, we find Sir Walter making inquiry regarding this Arabian conjurer, and writing to Mr. Lockhart, on Nov. 1831, in the following terms:--

"I have got a key to the conjuring story of Alexandria and Grand Cairo. I have seen very distinct letters of Sir John Stoddart's son, who attended three of the formal exhibitions which broke down, though they were repeated afterwards with success. Young Stoddart is an excellent Arabian scholar--an advantage which I understand is more imperfectly enjoyed by Lord Prudhoe and Colonel Felix. Much remains to be explained, but the boldness of the attempt exceeds anything since the days of the Automaton chess-player, or the Bottle conjurer. The first time Shakespeare was evoked he appeared in the complexion of an Arab. This seems to have been owing to the first syllable of his name, which resembled the Arabian word _Sheik_, and suggested the idea of an Arabian chief to the conjurer. A gentleman named Galloway has bought the secret, and talks of being frightened. There can be little doubt that, having so far interested himself, it would become his interest to put the conjurer more up to the questions likely to be asked. So he was more perfect when consulted by Lord Prudhoe than at first, when he made various blunders, and when we must needs say _falsum in uno falsum in omnibus_. As all this will come out one day, I have no wish to mingle in the controversy.... There are still many things to explain, but I think the mystery is unearthed completely."

See also Lane's _Egyptians_ for an account of what appears to be the same man in 1837. Also _Quarterly Review_, No. 117, pp. 196-208, for an examination of this "Magic Mirror" exhibition.

[474] A hoard of seventy-eight chessmen found in the island of Lewis in 1831. The greater number of the figures were purchased for the British Museum, and formed the subject of a learned dissertation by Sir Frederick Madden; see _Archæologia,_ xxiv. Eleven of these very interesting pieces fell into the hands of Scott's friend, C.K. Sharpe, and afterwards of Lord Londesborough. More recently these identical pieces were purchased for the Museum of Antiquities, Edinburgh, where they now are. See _Proc. Soc. Antiq.,_ vol. xxiii.

[475] Sir John Malcolm, who was at this time M.P. for Launceston. His last public appearance was in London, at a meeting convened for the purpose of raising a monument of his friend Sir Walter, and his concluding words were, that when he himself "was gone, his son might be proud to say that his father had been among the contributors to that shrine of genius." Sir John was struck down by paralysis on the following day, and died in May 1833.

[476] The celebrated Brahmin philosopher and theist; born in Bengal about 1774, died at Stapleton Grove, near Bristol, September 27, 1833.

[477] Sir Walter's fears for the country were also shared by some of the wisest men in it. The Duke of Wellington, it is well known, was most desponding, and he anticipated greater horror from a convulsion here than in any other European nation.

Talleyrand said to the Duke during the Reform Bill troubles, "Duke of Wellington, you have seen a great deal of the world. Can you point out to me any one place in Europe where an old man could go to and be quite sure of being safe and dying in peace?"--Stanhope _Notes_, p. 224.

[478] See Mr. Charles Cowan's privately printed _Reminiscences_ for Scott's recollections of his visit to Portsmouth in 1816, and his stories, of the wonders he had seen, to the little boy at his side.

[479] Compare Froude's _History_, vol. iv. p. 424.

[480] Mr. Horace Smith, one of the authors of _Rejected Addresses_.

[481] An anonymous novel, published some years earlier in 4 vols. 12mo.

[482] Cowper's Monody.

NOVEMBER.

_November_ 1.--The night was less dismal than yesterday, and we hold our course, though with an unfavourable wind, and make, it is said, about forty miles progress. After all, this sort of navigation recommends the steamer, which forces its way whether the breeze will or no.

_November_ 2.--Wind as cross as two sticks, with nasty squalls of wind and rain. We keep dodging about the Lizard and Land's End without ever getting out of sight of these interesting terminations of Old England. Keep the deck the whole day though bitter cold. Betake myself to my berth at nine, though it is liker to my coffin.

_November_ 3.--Sea-sickness has pretty much left us, but the nights are far from voluptuous, as Lord Stowell says. After breakfast I established myself in the after-cabin to read and write as well as I can, whereof this is a bad specimen.

_November_ 4.--The current unfavourable, and the ship pitching a great deal; yet the vessel on the whole keeps her course, and we get on our way with hope of reaching Cape Finisterre when it shall please God.

_November_ 5.--We still creep on this petty pace from day to day without being able to make way, but also without losing any. Meanwhile, _Fröhlich!_ we become freed from the nausea and disgust of the sea-sickness and are chirruping merrily. Spend the daylight chiefly on deck, where the sailors are trained in exercising the great guns on a new sort of carriage called, from the inventor, Marshall's, which seems ingenious.

_November_ 6.--No progress to-day; the ship begins to lay her course but makes no great way. Appetite of the passengers excellent, which we amuse at the expense of the sea stock. Cold beef and biscuit. I feel myself very helpless on board, but everybody is ready to assist me.

_November_ 7.--The wind still holds fair, though far from blowing steadily, but by fits and variably. No object to look at--

"One wide water all around us, All above us one 'grey' sky."[483]

There are neither birds in the air, fish in the sea, nor objects on face of the waters. It is odd that though once so great a smoker I now never think on a cigar; so much the better.

_November_ 8.--As we begin to get southward we feel a milder and more pleasing temperature, and the wind becomes decidedly favourable when we have nearly traversed the famous Bay of Biscay. We now get into a sort of trade wind blowing from the East.

_November_ 9.--This morning run seventy miles from twelve at night. This is something like going. Till now, bating the rolling and pitching, we lay

"... as idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean."

_November_ 10.--Wind changes and is both mild and favourable. We pass Cape Ortegal, see a wild cluster of skerries or naked rocks called Berlingas rising out of the sea like M'Leod's Maidens off the Isle of Skye.

_November_ 11.--Wind still more moderate and fair, yet it is about eleven knots an hour. We pass Oporto and Lisbon in the night. See the coast of Portugal: a bare wild country, with here and there a church or convent. If it keeps fair this evening we [make] Gibraltar, which would be very desirable. Our sailors have been exercised at a species of sword exercise, which recalls many recollections.

_November_ 12.--The favourable wind gets back to its quarters in the south-west, and becomes what the Italians call the Sirocco, abominated for its debilitating qualities. I cannot say I feel them, but I dreamt dreary dreams all night, which are probably to be imputed to the Sirocco. After all, it is not an uncomfortable wind to a Caledonian wild and stern. Ink won't serve.

_November_ 13.--The wind continues unaccommodating all night, and we see nothing, although we promised ourselves to have seen Gibraltar, or at least Tangiers, this morning, but we are disappointed of both. Tangiers reminded me of my old Antiquarian friend Auriol Hay Drummond, who is Consul there.[484] Certainly if a human voice could have made its hail heard through a league or two of contending wind and wave, it must have been Auriol Drummond's. I remember him at a dinner given by some of his friends when he left Edinburgh, where he discharged a noble part "self pulling like Captain Crowe 'for dear life, for dear life' against the whole boat's crew," speaking, that is, against 30 members of a drunken company and maintaining the predominance. Mons Meg was at that time his idol. He had a sort of avarice of proper names, and, besides half a dozen which were his legitimately, he had a claim to be called _Garvadh_, which uncouth appellation he claimed on no very good authority to be the ancient name of the Hays--a tale. I loved him dearly; he had high spirits, a zealous faith, good-humour, and enthusiasm, and it grieves me that I must pass within ten miles of him and leave him unsaluted; for mercy-a-ged what a yell of gratitude would there be! I would put up with a good rough gale which would force us into Tangiers and keep us there for a week, but the wind is only in gentle opposition, like a well-drilled spouse. Gibraltar we shall see this evening, Tangiers becomes out of the question. Captain says we will lie by during the night, sooner than darkness shall devour such an object of curiosity, so we must look sharp for the old rock.

_November_ 14.--The horizon is this morning full of remembrances. Cape St. Vincent, Cape Spartel, Tarifa, Trafalgar--all spirit-stirring sounds, are within our ken, and recognised with enthusiasm both by the old sailors whose memory can reinvest them with their terrors, and by the naval neophytes who hope to emulate the deeds of their fathers. Even a non-combatant like myself feels his heart beat faster and fuller, though it is only with the feeling of the unworthy boast of the substance in the fable, _nos poma natamus_.

I begin to ask myself, Do I feel any symptoms of getting better from the climate?--which is delicious,--and I cannot reply with the least consciousness of certainty; I cannot in reason expect it should be otherwise: the failure of my limbs has been gradual, and it cannot be expected that an infirmity which at least a year's bad weather gradually brought on should diminish before a few mild and serene days, but I think there is some change to the better; I certainly write easier and my spirits are better. The officers compliment me on this, and I think justly. The difficulty will be to abstain from working hard, but we will try. I wrote to Mr. Cadell to-day, and will send my letter ashore to be put into Gibraltar with the officer who leaves us at that garrison. In the evening we saw the celebrated fortress, which we had heard of all our lives, and which there is no possibility of describing well in words, though the idea I had formed of it from prints, panoramas, and so forth, proved not very inaccurate. Gibraltar, then, is a peninsula having a tremendous precipice on the Spanish side--that is, upon the north, where it is united to the mainland by a low slip of land called the neutral ground. The fortifications which rise on the rock are innumerable, and support each other in a manner accounted a model of modern art; the northern face of the rock itself is hewn into tremendous subterranean batteries called the hall of Saint George, and so forth, mounted with guns of a large calibre. But I have heard it would be difficult to use them, from the effect of the report on the artillerymen. The west side of the fortress is not so precipitous as the north, and it is on this it has been usually assailed. It bristles with guns and batteries, and has at its northern extremity the town of Gibraltar, which seems from the sea a thriving place, and from thence declines gradually to Cape Europa, where there is a great number of remains of old caverns and towers, formerly the habitation or refuge of the Moors. At a distance, and curving into a bay, lie Algeciras, and the little Spanish town of Saint Roque, where the Spanish lines were planted during the siege.[485] From Europa Point the eastern frontier of Gibraltar runs pretty close to the sea, and arises in a perpendicular face, and it is called the back of the rock. No thought could be entertained of attacking it, although every means were used to make the assault as general as possible. The efforts sustained by such extraordinary means as the floating batteries were entirely directed against the defences on the west side, which, if they could have been continued for a few days with the same fury with which they commenced, must have worn out the force of the garrison. The assault had continued for several hours without success on either side, when a private man of the artillery, his eye on the floating batteries, suddenly called with ecstasy, "She burns, by G----!";[486] and first that vessel and then others were visibly discovered to be on fire, and the besiegers' game was decidedly up.

We stood into the Bay of Gibraltar and approached the harbour firing a gun and hoisting a signal for a boat: one accordingly came off--a man-of-war's boat--but refused to have any communication with us on account of the quarantine, so we can send no letters ashore, and after some pourparlers, Mr. L----, instead of joining his regiment, must remain on board. We learned an unpleasant piece of news. There has been a tumult at Bristol and some rioters shot, it is said fifty or sixty. I would flatter myself that this is rather good news, since it seems to be no part of a formed insurrection, but an accidental scuffle in which the mob have had the worst, and which, like Tranent, Manchester, and Bonnymoor, have always had the effect of quieting the people and alarming men of property.[487] The Whigs will find it impossible to permit men to be plundered by a few blackguards called by them the people, and education and property probably will recover an ascendency which they have only lost by faintheartedness.

We backed out of the Bay by means of a current to the eastward, which always runs thence, admiring in our retreat the lighting up the windows in the town and the various barracks or country seats visible on the rock. Far as we are from home, the general lighting up of the windows in the evening reminds us we are still in merry old England, where in reverse of its ancient law of the curfew, almost every individual, however humble his station, takes as of right a part of the evening for enlarging the scope of his industry or of his little pleasures. He trims his lamp to finish at leisure some part of his task, which seems in such circumstances almost voluntary, while his wife prepares the little meal which is to be its legitimate reward. But this happy privilege of English freemen has ceased. One happiness it is, they will soon learn their error.

_November_ 15.--I had so much to say about Gibraltar that I omitted all mention of the Strait, and more distant shores of Spain and Barbary, which form the extreme of our present horizon; they are highly interesting. A chain of distant mountains sweep round Gibraltar, bold peaked, well defined, and deeply indented; the most distinguishable points occasionally garnished with an old watch-tower to afford protection against a corsair. The mountains seemed like those of the first formation, liker, in other words, to the Highlands than those of the South of Scotland. The chains of hills in Barbary are of the same character, but more lofty and much more distant, being, I conceive, a part of the celebrated ridge of Atlas.

Gibraltar is one of the pillars of Hercules, Ceuta on the Moorish side is well known to be the other; to the westward of a small fortress garrisoned by the Spaniards is the Hill of Apes, the corresponding pillar to Gibraltar. There is an extravagant tradition that there was once a passage under the sea from the one fortress to the other, and that an adventurous governor, who puzzled his way to Ceuta and back again, left his gold watch as a prize to him who had the courage to go to seek it.

We are soon carried by the joint influence of breeze and current to the African side of the straits, and coast nearly along a wild shore formed of mountains, like those of Spain, of varied form and outline. No churches, no villages, no marks of human hand are seen. The chain of hills show a mockery of cultivation, but it is only wild heath intermingled with patches of barren sand. I look in vain for cattle or flocks of sheep, and Anne as vainly entertains hopes of seeing lions and tigers on a walk to the sea-shore. The land of this wild country seems to have hardly a name. The Cape which we are doubling has one, however--the Cape of the Three Points. That we might not be totally disappointed we saw one or two men engaged apparently in ploughing, distinguished by their turbans and the long pikes which they carried. Dr. Liddell says that on former occasions he has seen flocks and shepherds, but the war with France has probably laid the country waste.

_November_ 16.--When I waked about seven found that we had the town of Oran twelve or fourteen miles off astern. It is a large place on the sea-beach, near the bottom of a bay, built close and packed together as Moorish [towns], from Fez to Timbuctoo, usually are. A considerable hill runs behind the town, which seems capable of holding 10,000 inhabitants. The hill up to its eastern summit is secured by three distinct lines of fortification, made probably by the Spanish when Oran was in their possession; latterly it belonged to the State of Algiers; but whether it has yielded to the French or not we have no means of knowing. A French schooner of eighteen guns seems to blockade the harbour. We show our colours, and she displays hers, and then resumes her cruise, looking as if she resumed her blockade. This would infer that the place is not yet in French hands. However, we have in any event no business with Oran, whether African or French. Bristol is a more important subject of consideration, but I cannot learn there are papers on board. One or two other towns we saw on this dreary coast, otherwise nothing but a hilly coast covered with shingle and gum cistus.

_November_ 17.--In the morning we are off Algiers, of which Captain Pigot's complaisance afforded a very satisfactory sight. It is built on a sloping hill, running down to the sea, and on the water side is extremely strong; a very strong mole or causeway enlarges the harbour, by enabling them to include a little rocky island, and mount immense batteries, with guns of great number and size. It is a wonder, in the opinion of all judges, that Lord Exmouth's fleet was not altogether cut to pieces. The place is of little strength to the land; a high turreted wall of the old fashion is its best defence. When Charles V. attacked Algiers, he landed in the bay to the east of the town, and marched behind it. He afterwards reached what is still called the Emperor's fort, a building more highly situated than any part of the town, and commanding the wall which surrounds it. The Moors did not destroy this. When Bourmont landed with the French, unlike Charles V., that general disembarked to the westward of Algiers, and at the mouth of a small river; he then marched into the interior, and, fetching a circuit, presented himself on the northern side of the town. Here the Moors had laid a simple stratagem for the destruction of the invading army. The natives had conceived they would rush at once to the fort of the Emperor, which they therefore mined, and expected to destroy a number of the enemy by its explosion. This obvious device of war was easily avoided, and General Bourmont, in possession of the heights, from which Algiers is commanded, had no difficulty in making himself master of the place. The French are said now to hold their conquests with difficulty, owing to a general commotion among the Moorish chiefs, of whom the Bey was the nominal sovereign. To make war on these wild tribes would be to incur the disaster of the Emperor Julian; to neglect their aggressions is scarcely possible.

Algiers has at first an air of diminutiveness inferior to its fame in ancient and modern times. It rises up from the shore like a wedge, composed of a large mass of close-packed white houses, piled as thick on each other as they can stand; white-terraced roofs, and without windows, so the number of its inhabitants must be immense, in comparison to the ground the buildings occupy--not less, perhaps, than 30,000 men. Even from the distance we view it, the place has a singular Oriental look, very dear to the imagination. The country around Algiers is [of] the same hilly description with the ground on which the town is situated--a bold hilly tract. The shores of the bay are studded with villas, and exhibit enclosures: some used for agriculture, some for gardens, one for a mosque, with a cemetery around it. It is said they are extremely fertile; the first example we have seen of the exuberance of the African soil. The villas, we are told, belong to the Consular Establishment. We saw our own, who, if at home, put no remembrance upon us. Like the Cambridge Professor and the elephant, "We were a paltry beast," and he would not see us, though we drew within cannon [shot], and our fifty 36-pounders might have attracted some attention. The Moors showed their old cruelty on a late occasion. The crews of two foreign vessels having fallen into their hands by shipwreck, they murdered two-thirds of them in cold blood. There are reports of a large body of French cavalry having shown itself without the town. It is also reported by Lieutenant Walker,[488] that the Consul hoisted, _comme de raison_, a British flag at his country house, so our vanity is safe.

We leave Algiers and run along the same kind of heathy, cliffy, barren reach of hills, terminating in high lines of serrated ridges, and scarce showing an atom of cultivation, but where the mouth of a river or a sheltering bay has encouraged the Moors to some species of fortification.

_November_ 18.--Still we are gliding along the coast of Africa, with a steady and unruffled gale; the weather delicious. Talk of an island of wild goats, by name Golita; this species of deer-park is free to every one for shooting upon--belongs probably to the Algerines or Tunisians, whom circumstances do not permit to be very scrupulous in asserting their right of dominion; but Dr. Liddell has himself been present at a grand _chasse_ of the goats, so the thing is true.

The wild sinuosities of the land make us each moment look to see a body of Arabian cavalry wheel at full gallop out of one of these valleys, scour along the beach, and disappear up some other recess of the hills. In fact we see a few herds, but a red cow is the most formidable monster we have seen.

A general day of exercise on board, as well great guns as small arms. It was very entertaining to see the men take to their quarters with the unanimity of an individual. The marines shot a target to pieces, the boarders scoured away to take their position on the yards with cutlass and pistol. The exhibition continued two hours, and was loud enough to have alarmed the shores, where the Algerines might, if they had thought fit, have imputed the firing to an opportune quarrel between the French and British, and have shouted "Allah Kerim"--God is merciful! This was the Dey's remark when he heard that Charles X. was dethroned by the Parisians.

We are near an African Cape called Bugiaroni, where, in the last war, the Toulon fleet used to trade for cattle.

_November_ 19.--Wind favourable during night, dies away in the morning, and blows in flurries rather contrary. The steamboat packet, which left Portsmouth at the same time with us, passes us about seven o'clock, and will reach a day or two before us. We are now off the coast of Tunis: not so high and rocky as that of Algiers, and apparently much more richly cultivated. A space of considerable length along shore, between a conical hill called Mount Baluty and Cape Bon, which we passed last night, is occupied by the French as a coral fishery. They drop heavy shot by lines on the coral rocks and break off fragments which they fish up with nets. The Algerines, seizing about 200 Neapolitans thus employed gave rise to the bombardment of their town by Lord Exmouth. All this coast is picturesquely covered with enclosures and buildings and is now clothed with squally weather. One hill has a smoky umbrella displayed over its peak, which is very like a volcano--many islets and rocks bearing the Italian names of sisters, brothers, dogs, and suchlike epithets. The view is very striking, with varying rays of light and of shade mingling and changing as the wind rises and falls. About one o'clock we pass the situation of ancient Carthage, but saw no ruins, though such are said to exist. A good deal of talk about two ancient lakes called----; I knew the name, but little more. We passed in the evening two rocky islands, or skerries, rising straight out of the water, called Gli Fratelli or The Brothers.

_November_ 20.--A fair wind all night, running at the merry rate of nine knots an hour. In the morning we are in sight of the highest island, Pantellaria, which the Sicilians use as a state prison, a species of Botany Bay. We are about thirty miles from the burning island--I mean Graham's--but neither that nor Etna make their terrors visible. At noon Graham's Island appears, greatly diminished since last accounts. We got out the boats and surveyed this new production of the earth with great interest. Think I have got enough to make a letter to our Royal Society and friends at Edinburgh.[489] Lat. 37° 10' 31" N., long. 12° 40' 15" E., lying north and south by compass, by Mr. Bokely, the Captain's clerk['s measurements]. Returned on board at dinner-time.

_November_ 21.--Indifferent night. In the morning we are running off Gozo, a subordinate island to Malta, intersected with innumerable enclosures of dry-stone dykes similar to those used in Selkirkshire, and this likeness is increased by the appearance of sundry square towers of ancient days. In former times this was believed to be Calypso's island, and the cave of the enchantress is still shown. We saw the entrance from the deck, as rude a cavern as ever opened out of a granite rock. The place of St. Paul's shipwreck is also shown, no doubt on similarly respectable authority.

At last we opened Malta, an island, or rather a city, like no other in the world. The seaport, formerly the famous Valetta, comes down to the sea-shore. On the one side lay the [Knights], on the other side lay the Turks, who finally got entire possession of it, while the other branch remained in the power of the Christians. Mutual cruelties were exercised; the Turks, seizing on the survivors of the knights who had so long defended St. Elmo, cut the Maltese cross on the bodies of the slain, and, tying them to planks, let them drift with the receding tide into the other branch of the harbour still defended by the Christians. The Grand-Master, in resentment of this cruelty, caused his Turkish prisoners to be decapitated and their heads thrown from mortars into the camp of the infidels.[490]

_November_ 22.--To-day we entered Malta harbour, to quarantine, which is here very strict. We are condemned by the Board of Quarantine to ten days' imprisonment or sequestration, and go in the _Barham's_ boat to our place of confinement, built by a Grand-Master named Manuel[491] for a palace for himself and his retinue. It is spacious and splendid, but not comfortable; the rooms connected one with another by an arcade, into which they all open, and which forms a delightful walk. If I was to live here a sufficient time I think I could fit the apartments up so as to be handsome, and even imposing, but at present they are only kept as barracks for the infirmary or lazaretto. A great number of friends come to see me, who are not allowed to approach nearer than a yard. This, as the whole affair is a farce, is ridiculous enough. We are guarded by the officers of health in a peculiar sort of livery or uniform with yellow neck, who stroll up and down with every man that stirs--and so mend the matter.[492] My friends Captain and Mrs. Dawson, the daughter and son-in-law of the late Lord Kinnedder, occupying as military quarters one end of the Manuel palace, have chosen to remain, though thereby subjected to quarantine, and so become our fellows in captivity. Our good friend Captain Pigot, hearing some exaggerated report of our being uncomfortably situated, came himself in his barge with the purpose of reclaiming his passengers rather than we should be subjected to the least inconvenience. We returned our cordial thanks, but felt we had already troubled him sufficiently. We dine with Captain and Mrs. Dawson, sleep in our new quarters, and, notwithstanding mosquito curtains and iron bedsteads, are sorely annoyed by vermin, the only real hardship we have to complain of since the tossing on the Bay of Biscay, and which nothing could save us from.

Les Maltois ne se mariaient jamais dans le mois de mai. Ils espérèrent si mal des ouvrages de tout genre commencé durant son cours qu'ils ne se faisaient pas couper d'habits pendant ce mois.

The same superstition still prevails in Scotland.

_November_ 23.--This is a splendid town. The sea penetrates it in several places with creeks formed into harbours, surrounded by buildings, and these again covered with fortifications. The streets are of very unequal height, and as there has been no attempt at lowering them, the greatest variety takes place between them; and the singularity of the various buildings, leaning on each other in such a bold, picturesque, and uncommon manner, suggests to me ideas for finishing Abbotsford by a screen on the west side of the old barn and with a fanciful wall decorated with towers, to enclose the bleaching green--watch-towers such as these, of which I can get drawings while I am here. Employed the forenoon in writing to Lockhart. I am a little at a loss what account to give of myself. Better I am decidedly in spirit, but rather hampered by my companions, who are neither desirous to follow my amusements, nor anxious that I should adopt theirs. I am getting on with this Siege of Malta very well. I think if I continue, it will be ready in a very short time, and I will get the opinion of others, and if my charm hold I will be able to get home through Italy--and take up my own trade again.

_November_ 24.--We took the quarantine boat and visited the outer harbour or great port, in which the ships repose when free from their captivity. The British ships of war are there,--a formidable spectacle, as they all carry guns of great weight. If they go up the Levant as reported, they are a formidable weight in the bucket. I was sensible while looking at them of the truth of Cooper's description of the beauty of their build, their tapering rigging and masts, and how magnificent it looks as

"Hulking and vast the gallant warship rides!"

We had some pride in looking at the _Barham_, once in a particular manner our own abode. Captain Pigot and some of his officers dined with us at our house of captivity. By a special grace our abode here is to be shortened one day, so we leave on Monday first, which is an indulgence. To-day we again visit Dragut's Point. The guardians who attend to take care that we quarantines do not kill the people whom we meet, tell some stories of this famous corsair, but I scarce can follow their Arabic. I must learn it, though, for the death of Dragut[493] would be a fine subject for a poem, but in the meantime I will proceed with my _Knights_.

[_November_ 25-30.][494]--By permission of the quarantine board we were set at liberty, and lost no time in quitting the dreary fort of Don Manuel, with all its mosquitoes and its thousands of lizards which [stand] shaking their heads at you like their brother in the new Arabian tale of _Daft Jock_. My son and daughter are already much tired of the imprisonment. I myself cared less about it, but it is unpleasant to be thought so very unclean and capable of poisoning a whole city. We took our guardians' boat and again made a round of the harbour; were met by Mrs. Bathurst's[495] carriage, and carried to my very excellent apartment at Beverley's Hotel. In passing I saw something of the city, and very comical it was; but more of that hereafter. At or about four o'clock we went to our old habitation the _Barham_, having promised again to dine in the Ward room, where we had a most handsome dinner, and were dismissed at half-past six, after having the pleasure to receive and give a couple hours of satisfaction. I took the boat from the chair, and was a little afraid of the activity of my assistants, but it all went off capitally; went to Beverley's and bed in quiet.

At two o'clock Mrs. Col. Bathurst transported me to see the Metropolitan Church of St. John, by far the most magnificent place I ever saw in my life; its huge and ample vaults are of the Gothic order. The floor is of marble, each stone containing the inscription of some ancient knight adorned with a patent of mortality and an inscription recording his name and family. For instance, one knight I believe had died in the infidels' prison; to mark his fate, one stone amid the many-coloured pavement represents a door composed of grates (iron grates I mean), displaying behind them an interior which a skeleton is in vain attempting to escape from by bursting the bars. If you conceive he has pined in his fetters there for centuries till dried in the ghastly image of death himself, it is a fearful imagination. The roof which bends over this scene of death is splendidly adorned with carving and gilding, while the varied colours and tinctures both above and beneath, free from the tinselly effect which might have been apprehended, [acquire a] solemnity in the dim religious light, which they probably owe to the lapse of time. Besides the main aisle, which occupies the centre, there is added a chapter-house in which the knights were wont to hold their meetings. At the upper end of this chapter-house is the fine Martyrdom of St. John the Baptist, by Caravaggio, though this has been disputed. On the left hand of the body of the church lie a series of subordinate aisles or chapels, built by the devotion of the different languages,[496] and where some of the worthies inhabit the vaults beneath. The other side of the church is occupied in the same manner; one chapel in which the Communion was imparted is splendidly adorned by a row of silver pillars, which divided the worshippers from the priest. Immense riches had been taken from this chapel of the Holy Sacrament by the French; a golden lamp of great size, and ornaments to the value of 50,000 crowns are mentioned in particular; the rich railing had not escaped the soldiers' rapacity had it not been painted to resemble wood. I must visit this magnificent church another time. To-day I have done it at the imminent risk of a bad fall. We drove out to see a Maltese village, highly ornamented in the usual taste. Mrs. Bathurst was so good as to take me in her carriage. We dined with Colonel Bathurst.

_November_ 26.--I visited my old and much respected friend, Mr. John Hookham Frere,[497] and was much gratified to see him the same man I had always known him,--perhaps a little indolent; but that's not much. A good Tory as ever, when the love of many is waxed cold. At night a grand ball in honour of your humble servant--about four hundred gentlemen and ladies. The former mostly British officers of army, navy, and civil service. Of the ladies, the island furnished a fair proportion--- I mean viewed in either way. I was introduced to a mad Italian improvisatore, who was with difficulty prevented from reciting a poem in praise of the King, and imposing a crown upon my head, _nolens volens_. Some of the officers, easily conceiving how disagreeable this must have been to a quiet man, got me out of the scrape, and I got home about midnight; but remain unpoetised and unspeeched.

_November_ 28.--I have made some minutes, some observations, and could do something at my Siege; but I do not find my health gaining ground. I visited Frere at Sant' Antonio: a beautiful place with a splendid garden, which Mr. Frere will never tire of, unless some of his family come to carry him home by force.

_November_ 29.--Lady Hotham was kind enough to take me a drive, and we dined with them--a very pleasant party. I picked up some anecdotes of the latter siege.

Make another pilgrimage, escorted by Captain Pigot and several of his officers. We took a more accurate view of this splendid structure [Church of St. John]. I went down into the vaults and made a visiting acquaintance with La Valette,[498] whom, greatly to my joy, I found most splendidly provided with a superb sepulchre of bronze, on which he reclines in the full armour of a Knight of Chivalrie.

FOOTNOTES:

[483] See Sailor's Song, _Cease, rude Boreas_, etc., _ante_, p. 402: "The Storm."

[484] See _ante_, vol. i. p. 253, note.

[485] Lasting from 21st June 1779 to 6th February 1783.

[486] Compare the reflection of the Chevalier d'Arcon, the contriver of the floating batteries. He remained on board the _Talla Piedra_ till past midnight, and wrote to the French Ambassador in the first hours of his anguish: "I have burnt the Temple of Ephesus; everything is gone, and through my fault! What comforts me under my calamity is that the honour of the two kings remains untarnished."--Mahon's _History of England_, vol. vii. p. 290.

[487] Nothing like these Bristol riots had occurred since those in Birmingham in 1791.--Martineau's _History of the Peace_, p. 353. The Tranent (East Lothian) and Bonnymoor (Stirlingshire) conflicts took place in 1797 and 1820; the Manchester riot in 1826.

[488] Afterwards Admiral Sir Baldwin Walker, so long in command of the Turkish Navy.

[489] See long letter to Mr. Skene in _Life_, vol. x. pp. 126-130.

[490] In the memorable siege of 1565.

[491] Manuel de Vilhena, Grand-Master 1722-1736.

[492] An example of the rigour with which the Quarantine laws were enforced is given by Sir Walter on the 24th:--"We had an instance of the strictness of these regulations from an accident which befell us as we entered the harbour. One of our seamen was brushed from the main yard, fell into the sea and began to swim for his life. The Maltese boats bore off to avoid giving him assistance, but an English boat, less knowing, picked up the poor fellow, and were immediately assigned to the comforts of the Quarantine, that being the Maltese custom of rewarding humanity."--Letter to J.G.L.

[493] High Admiral of the Turkish fleet before Malta, and slain there in 1565. See _Dragut the Corsair_, in Lockhart's _Spanish Ballads_.

[494] The dates are not to be absolutely depended upon during the Malta visit, as they appear to have been added subsequently by Sir Walter.

[495] Wife of the Lieut.-Governor, Colonel Seymour Bathurst.

[496] In 1790 the Order of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem consisted of eight "Lodges" or "Languages," viz.: France, Auvergne, Provence, Spain, Portugal, Germany, and Anglo-Bavaria.--Hoare's _Tour_, vol. i. p. 28.

[497] John Hookham Frere, the disciple of Pitt, and bosom friend of Canning, made Malta his home from 1820 till 1846; he died there on January 7th. He was in deep affliction at the time of Scott's arrival, having lost his wife a few months before, but he welcomed his old friend with a melancholy pleasure.

For Scott's high opinion of Frere, as far back as 1804, see _Life_, vol. ii. p. 207 and note.

[498] Grandmaster of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, and defender of Malta against Solyman in 1565.

DECEMBER

_December_ 1.--There are two good libraries, on a different plan and for different purposes--a modern subscription library that lends its own books, and an ancient foreign library which belonged to the Knights, but does not lend books. Its value is considerable, but the funds unfortunately are shamefully small; I may do this last some good. I have got in a present from Frere the prints of the Siege of Malta, very difficult to understand, and on loan from Mr. Murray, Agent of the Navy Office, the original of Boiardo, to be returned through Mr. Murray, Albemarle Street. Mr. Murray is very good-natured about it.

_December_ 2.--My chief occupation has been driving with Frere. Dr. Liddell declines a handsome fee. I will want to send some oranges to the children. I am to go with Col. Bathurst to-day as far as to wait on the bishop. My old friend Sir John Stoddart's daughter is to be married to a Captain Atkinson. Rode with Frere. Much recitation.

_December_ 6.--Captain Pigot inclines to take me on with him to Naples, after which he goes to Tunis on Government service. This is an offer not to be despised, though at the expense of protracting the news from Scotland, which I engage to provide for in case of the worst, by offering Mr. Cadell a new romance, to be called The Siege of Malta, which if times be as they were when I came off, should be thankful[ly received] at a round sum, paying back not only what is overdrawn, but supplying finances during the winter.

_December_ 10, [_Naples_].--I ought to say that before leaving Malta I went to wait on the Archbishop: a fine old gentleman, very handsome, and one of the priests who commanded the Maltese in their insurrection against the French. I took the freedom to hint that as he had possessed a journal of this blockade, it was but due to his country and himself to give it to the public, and offered my assistance. He listened to my suggestion, and seemed pleased with the proposal, which I repeated more than once, and apparently with success. Next day the Bishop returned my visit in full state, attended by his clergy, and superbly dressed in costume, the pearls being very fine. (The name of this fine old dignitary of the Romish Church is Don Francis Caruana, Bishop of Malta.)

The last night we were at Malta we experienced a rude shock of an earthquake, which alarmed me, though I did not know what it was. It was said to foretell that the ocean, which had given birth to Graham's Island, had, like Pelops, devoured its own offspring, and we are told it is not now visible, and will be, perhaps, hid from those who risk the main; but as we did not come near its latitude we cannot say from our own knowledge that the news is true. I found my old friend Frere as fond as ever of old ballads. He took me out almost every day, and favoured me with recitations of the Cid and the continuation of Whistlecraft. He also acquainted me that he had made up to Mr. Coleridge the pension of £200 from the Board of Literature[499] out of his own fortune.

_December_ 13, [_Naples_].--We left Malta on this day, and after a most picturesque voyage between the coast of Sicily and Malta arrived here on the 17th, where we were detained for quarantine, whence we were not dismissed till the day before Christmas. I saw Charles, to my great joy, and agreed to dine with his master, Right Hon. Mr. Hill,[500] resolving it should be my first and last engagement at Naples. Next morning much struck with the beauty of the Bay of Naples. It is insisted that my arrival has been a signal for the greatest eruption from Vesuvius which that mountain has favoured us with for many a day. I can only say, as the Frenchman said of the comet supposed to foretell his own death, "_Ah, messieurs, la comète me fait trop d'honneur_." Of letters I can hear nothing. There are many English here, of most of whom I have some knowledge.

_December_ 25, [_Bay of Naples_].--We are once more fairly put into quarantine. Captain Pigot does not, I think, quite understand the freedom his flag is treated with, and could he find law for so doing would try his long thirty-six pounders on the town of Naples and its castles; not to mention a sloop of ten guns which has ostentatiously entered the Bay to assist them. Lord knows we would make ducks and drakes of the whole party with the _Barham's_ terrible battery!

There is a new year like to begin and no news from Britain. By and by I will be in the condition of those who are sick and in prison, and entitled to visits and consolation on principles of Christianity.

_December_ 26, [_Strada Nuova_].--Went ashore; admitted to pratique, and were received here.[501] Walter has some money left, which we must use or try a begging-box, for I see no other resource, since they seem to have abandoned me so. Go ashore each day to sight-seeing. Have the pleasure to meet Mr.[502] and Mrs. Laing-Meason of Lindertis, and have their advice and assistance and company in our wanderings almost every day. Mr. Meason has made some valuable remarks on the lava where the villas of the middle ages are founded: the lava shows at least upon the ancient maritime villas of the Romans; so the boot of the moderns galls the kibe of the age preceding them; the reason seems to be the very great durability with which the Romans finished their domestic architecture of maritime arches, by which they admitted the sea into their lower houses.[503]

* * * * *

We were run away with, into the grotto very nearly, but luckily stopped before we entered, and so saved our lives. We have seen the Strada Nuova--a new access of extreme beauty which the Italians owe to Murat.

The Bay of Naples is one of the finest things I ever saw. Vesuvius controls it on the opposite side of the town.

I never go out in the evening, but take airings in the day-time almost daily. The day after Christmas I went to see some old parts of the city, amongst the rest a tower called Torre del Carmine, which figured during the Duke of Guise's adventure, and the gallery of as old a church, where Masaniello was shot at the conclusion of his career.[504] I marked down the epitaph of a former Empress,[505] which is striking and affecting. It would furnish matter for my Tour if I wanted it.

"Naples, thou'rt a gallant city, But thou hast been dearly bought"--[506]

So is King Alphonso made to sum up the praises of this princely town, with the losses which he had sustained in making himself master of it. I looked on it with something of the same feelings, and I may adopt the same train of thought when I recall Lady Northampton, Lady Abercorn, and other friends much beloved who have met their death in or near this city.

FOOTNOTES:

[499] By "Board of Literature" Scott doubtless means the Royal Society of Literature, instituted in 1824 under the patronage of George iv.; see _ante_, vol. i. pp. 390-91. Besides the members who paid a subscription there were ten associates, of whom Coleridge was one, who each received an annuity of a hundred guineas from the King's bounty. When William IV. succeeded his brother in 1830, he declined to continue these annuities. Representations were made to the Government, and the then Prime Minister, Earl Grey, offered Coleridge a private grant of £200 from the Treasury, which he declined.

The pension from the Society or the Privy Purse of George iv., which Mr. Hookham Frere told Sir Walter he had made up to Coleridge, was one hundred guineas.

[500] Afterwards Lord Berwick.

[501] The travellers established themselves in the Palazzo Caramanico as soon as they were released from quarantine.

[502] A brother of Malcolm Laing, the historian.

[503] An account is given by Sir William Gell of an excursion by sea to the ruins of such a Roman villa on the promontory of Posilipo, to which he had taken Sir Walter in a boat on the 26th of January.--_Life_, vol. x. pp. 157-8.

[504] For a picturesque sketch of Naples during the insurrection of 1647 see Sir Walter's article on Masaniello and the Duke of Guise.--_Foreign Quarterly Review_, vol. iv. pp. 355-403.

[505] See Appendix iv.: "A former Empress." Sir Walter no doubt means the mother of Conradin of Suabia, or, as the Italians call him, Corradino,--erroneously called "Empress," though her husband had pretensions to the Imperial dignity, disputed and abortive. For the whole affecting story see _Histoire de la Conquête de Naples_, St. Priest, vol. iii. pp. 130-185, especially pp. 162-3.

[506] A variation of the lines on Alphonso's capture of the city in 1442:--

"And then he looked on Naples, that great city of the sea, 'O city,' saith the King, 'how great hath been thy cost, For thee I twenty years--my fairest years--have lost.'"

--Lockhart's _Spanish Ballads_, "The King of Arragon."

1832.

JANUARY.

_January 5_.--Went by invitation to wait upon a priest, who almost rivals my fighting bishop of Malta. He is the old Bishop of Tarentum,[507] and, notwithstanding his age, eighty and upwards, is still a most interesting man. A face formed to express an interest in whatever passes; caressing manners, and a total absence of that rigid stiffness which hardens the heart of the old and converts them into a sort of petrifaction. Apparently his foible was a fondness for cats; one of them, a superb brindled Persian cat, is a great beauty, and seems a particular favourite. I think we would have got on well together if he could have spoken English, or I French or Latin; but _hélas!_ I once saw at Lord Yarmouth's house a Persian cat, but not quite so fine as that of the Bishop. He gave me a Latin devotional poem and an engraving of himself, and I came home about two o'clock.

_January_ 6 to 12.--We reach the 12th January, amusing ourselves as we can, generally seeing company and taking airings in the forenoon in this fine country. Sir William Gell, a very pleasant man, one of my chief cicerones. Lord Hertford comes to Naples. I am glad to keep up an old acquaintance made in the days of George IV.

He has got a breed from Maida, of which I gave him a puppy. There was a great crowd at the Palazzo, which all persons attended, being the King's birthday. The apartments are magnificent, and the various kinds of persons who came to pay court were splendid. I went with the boys as Brigadier-General of the Archers' Guard, wore a very decent green uniform, laced at the cuffs, and pantaloons, and looked as well as sixty could make it out when sworded and feathered _comme il faut_. I passed well enough. Very much afraid of a fall on the slippery floor, but escaped that disgrace. The ceremony was very long. I was introduced to many distinguished persons, and, but for the want of language, got on well enough. The King spoke to me about five minutes, of which I hardly understood five words. I answered him in a speech of the same length, and I'll be bound equally unintelligible. We made the general key-tone of the harangue _la belle langue et le beau ciel_ of _sa majesté_. Very fine dresses, very many diamonds....

A pretty Spanish ambassadress, Countess da Costa, and her husband. Saw the Countess de Lebzeltern, who has made our acquaintance, and seems to be very clever. I will endeavour to see her again. Introduced to another Russian Countess of the diplomacy. Got from Court about two o'clock. I should have mentioned that I had a letter from Skene[508] and one from Cadell, dated as far back as 2d December, a monstrous time ago, [which] yet puts a period to my anxiety. I have written to Cadell for particulars and supplies, and, besides, have written a great many pages of the Siege of Malta, which I think will succeed.

[_January_ 16-23].--I think £200 a month, or thereby, will do very well, and it is no great advance.

Another piece of intelligence was certainly to be expected, but now it has come afflicts us much. Poor Johnny Lockhart! The boy is gone whom we have made so much of. I could not have borne it better than I now do, and I might have borne it much worse.[509]

* * * * *

I went one evening to the Opera to see that amusement in its birthplace, which is now so widely received over Europe. The Opera House is superb, but can seldom be quite full. On this night, however, it was; the guards, citizens, and all persons dependent on the Court, or having anything to win or lose by it, are expected to take places liberally, and applaud with spirit. The King bowed much on entrance, and was received in a popular manner, which he has no doubt deserved, having relaxed many of his father's violent persecutions against the Liberals, made in some degree an amnesty, and employed many of this character. He has made efforts to lessen his expenses; but then he deals in military affairs, and that swallows up his savings, and Heaven only knows whether he will bring [Neapolitans] to fight, which the Martinet system alone will never do. His health is undermined by epileptic fits, which, with his great corpulence, make men throw their thoughts on his brother Prince Charles. It is a pity. The King is only two-and-twenty years old.

The Opera bustled off without any remarkable music, and, so far as I understand the language, no poetry; and except the _coup d'œil,_ which was magnificent, it was poor work. It was on the subject of Constantine and Crispus--marvellous good matter, I assure you. I came home at half-past nine, without waiting the ballet, but I was dog-sick of the whole of it. Went to the Studij to-day. I had no answer to my memorial to the Minister of the Interior, which it seems is necessary to make any copies from the old romances. I find it is an affair of State, and Monsieur ----- can only hope it will be granted in two or three days;--to a man that may leave Naples to-morrow! He offers me a loan of what books I need, Annals included, but this is also a delay of two or three days. I think really the Italian men of letters do not know the use of time made by those of other places, but I must have patience. In the course of my return home I called, by advice of my _valet de place_, at a bookseller's, where he said all the great messieurs went for books. It had very little the air of a place of such resort, being kept in a garret above a coach-house. Here some twenty or thirty odd volumes were produced by an old woman, but nothing that was mercantile, so I left them for Lorenzo's learned friends. And yet I was sorry too, for the lady who showed them to me was very [civil], and, understanding that I was the famous Chevalier, carried her kindness as far as I could desire. The Italians understand nothing of being in a hurry, but perhaps it is their way.[510]

_January_ 24.--The King grants the favour asked. To be perfect I should have the books [out] of the room, but this seems to [hurt?] Monsieur Delicteriis as he, kind and civil as he is, would hardly [allow] me to take my labours out of the Studij, where there are hosts of idlers and echoes and askers and no understanders of askers. I progress, however, as the Americans say. I have found that Sir William Gell's amanuensis is at present disengaged, and that he is quite the man for copying the romances, which is a plain black letter of 1377, at the cheap and easy rate of 3 _quattrons_ a day. I am ashamed at the lowness of the remuneration, but it will dine him capitally, with a share of a bottle of wine, or, by 'r lady, a whole one if he likes it; and thrice the sum would hardly do that in England. But we dawdle, and that there is no avoiding. I have found another object in the Studij--the language of Naples.

_Jany_. 2[5?].--One work in this dialect, for such it is, was described to me as a history of ancient Neapolitan legends--_quite in my way_; and it proves to be a dumpy fat 12mo edition of Mother Goose's Tales,[511] with my old friends Puss in Boots, Bluebeard, and almost the whole stock of this very collection. If this be the original of this charming book, it is very curious, for it shows the right of Naples to the authorship, but there are French editions very early also;--for there are two--whether French or Italian, I am uncertain--of different dates, both having claims to the original edition, each omitting some tales which the other has.

To what common original we are to refer them the Lord knows. I will look into [this] very closely, and if this same copiator is worth his ears he can help me. My friend Mr. D. will aid me, but I doubt he hardly likes my familiarity with the department of letters in which he has such an extensive and valuable charge. Yet he is very kind and civil, and promises me the loan of a Neapolitan vocabulary, which will set me up for the attack upon Mother Goose. Spirit of Tom Thumb assist me! I could, I think, make a neat thing of this, obnoxious to ridicule perhaps;--what then! The author of _Ma Sœur Anne_ was a clever man, and his tale will remain popular in spite of all gibes and flouts soever. So _Vamos Caracci_! If it was not for the trifling and dawdling peculiar to this country, I should have time enough, but their trifling with time is the devil. I will try to engage Mr. Gell in two researches in his way and more in mine, namely, the Andrea Ferrara and the Bonnet piece.[512] Mr. Keppel Craven says Andrea de Ferraras[513] are frequent in Italy. Plenty to do if we had alert assistance, but Gell and Laing Meason have both their own matters to puzzle out, and why should they mind my affairs? The weather is very cold, and I am the reverse of the idiot boy--

"For as my body's growing worse, My mind is growing better."[514]

Of this I am distinctly sensible, and thank God that the mist attending this whoreson apoplexy is wearing off.

I went to the Studij and copied Bevis of Hampton, about two pages, for a pattern. From thence to Sir William Gell, and made an appointment at the Studij with his writer to-morrow at ten, when, I trust, I shall find Delicteriis there, but the gentleman with the classical name is rather kind and friendly in his neighbour's behalf.[515]

_January_ 26.--This day arrived (for the first time indeed) answer to last post end of December, an epistle from Cadell full of good tidings.[516] _Castle Dangerous_ and _Sir Robert of Paris_, neither of whom I deemed seaworthy, have performed two voyages--that is, each sold about 3400, and the same of the current year. It proves what I have thought almost impossible, that I might write myself [out], but as yet my spell holds fast.

I have besides two or three good things on which I may advance with spirit, and with palmy hopes on the part of Cadell and myself. He thinks he will soon cry _victoria_ on the bet about his hat. He was to get a new one when I had paid off all my debts. I can hardly, now that I am assured all is well again, form an idea to myself that I could think it was otherwise.

And yet I think it is the public that are mad for passing those two volumes; but I will not be the first to cry them down in the market, for I have others in hand, which, judged with equal favour, will make fortunes of themselves. Let me see what I have on the stocks--

Castle Dangerous (supposed future Editions), £1000 Robert of Paris, " " " 1000 Lady Louisa Stuart, " " " 500 Knights of Malta, " " " 2500 Trotcosianæ Reliquiæ, " " 2500

I have returned to my old hopes, and think of giving Milne an offer for his estate.[517]

Letters or Tour of Paul in 3 vols. 3000 Reprint of Bevis of Hampton for Roxburghe Club, Essay on the Neapolitan dialect,

FOOTNOTES:

[507] Sir William Gell styles him "Archbishop," and adds that at this time he was in his ninetieth year. Can this prelate be Rogers's "Good Old Cardinal," who told the pleasant tale of the _Bag of Gold_, and is immortalised by the pencil of Landseer seated at table _en famille_ with three of his velvet favourites? See _Italy_, fcp. 8vo, 1838, p. 302.

[508] This is the last notice in the Journal by Sir Walter of his dear friend. James Skene of Rubislaw died at Frewen Hall, Oxford, in 1864, in his ninetieth year. His faculties remained unimpaired throughout his serene and beautiful old age, until the end was very near--then, one evening his daughter found him with a look of inexpressible delight on his face, when he said to her "I have had such a great pleasure! Scott has been here--he came from a long distance to see me, he has been sitting with me at the fireside talking over our happy recollections of the past...." Two or three days later he followed his well loved friend into the unseen world--gently and calmly like a child falling asleep he passed away in perfect peace.

[509] John Hugh Lockhart died December 15, 1831.

[510] Sir W. Gell relates that an old English manuscript of the Romance of Sir Bevis of Hampton, existing in Naples, had attracted Scott's attention, and he resolved to make a copy of it.

The transcript is now in the Library at Abbotsford, under the title, _Old English Romances_, transcribed from MSS. in the Royal Library at Naples, by Sticchini, 2 vols. sm. 8vo.

[511] See Appendix v. for Mr. Andrew Lang's letter on this subject.

[512] The forty-shilling gold piece coined by James V. of Scotland.

[513] Sword-blades of peculiar excellence bearing the name of this maker have been known in Scotland since the reign of James IV.

[514] Altered from Wordsworth.

[515] The editor of _Reliquiæ Antiquæ_ (2 vols. 8vo, London, 1843), writing ten years after this visit, says, that "The Chevalier de Licteriis [Chief Librarian in the Royal Library] showed him the manuscript, and well remembered his drawing Sir Walter's attention to it in 1832."

[516] Sir W. Gell records that on the morning he received the good news he called upon him and said he felt quite relieved by his letters, and added, "I could never have slept straight in my coffin till I had satisfied every claim against me; and now," turning to a favourite dog that was with them in the carriage he said, "My poor boy, I shall have my house and my estate round it free, and I may keep my dogs as big and as many as I choose without fear of reproach."--_Life_, vol. X. p. 160.

[517] Viz, Faldonside, an estate adjacent to Abbotsford which Scott had long wished to possess. As far back as November 1817 he wrote a friend: "My neighbour, Nicol Milne, is mighty desirous I should buy, at a mighty high rate, some land between me and the lake which lies mighty convenient, but I am mighty determined to give nothing more than the value, so that it is likely to end like the old proverb, _Ex Nichilo Nichil fit_."

FEBRUARY.

_February_ 10.--We went to Pompeii to-day: a large party, all disposed to enjoy the sight in this fine weather. We had Sir Frederick and Lady Adam, Sir William Gell, the coryphæus of our party, who played his part very well. Miss de la Ferronays,[518] daughter of Monsieur le Duc de la Ferronays, the head, I believe, of the constitutional Royalists, very popular in France, and likely to be called back to the ministry, with two or three other ladies, particularly Mrs. Ashley, born Miss Baillie,[519] very pretty indeed, and lives in the same house. The Countess de la Ferronays has a great deal of talent both musical and dramatic.

_February_ 16.--Sir William Gell called and took me out to-night to a bookseller whose stock was worth looking over.

We saw, among the old buildings of the city, an ancient palace called the Vicaría, which is changed into a prison. Then a new palace was honoured with royal residence instead of the old dungeon. I saw also a fine arch called the Capuan gate, formerly one of the city towers, and a very pretty one. We advanced to see the ruins of a palace said to be a habitation of Queen Joan, and where she put her lovers to death chiefly by potions, thence into a well, smothering them, etc., and other little tenderly trifling matters of gallantry.

FOOTNOTES:

[518] Probably _Pauline_; married to Hon. Augustus Craven, and author of _Récit d'une Sœur_.

[519] Daughter of Colonel Hugh Duncan Baillie, of Tarradale and Redcastle.

MARCH.

_March_.--Embarked on an excursion to Paestum, with Sir William Gell and Mr. Laing-Meason, in order to see the fine ruins. We went out by Pompeii, which we had visited before, and which fully maintains its character as one of the most striking pieces of antiquity, where the furniture treasure and household are preserved in the excavated houses, just as found by the labourers appointed by Government. The inside of the apartments is adorned with curious paintings, if I may call them such, in mosaic. A meeting between Darius and Alexander is remarkably fine.[520] A street, called the street of Tombs, reaches a considerable way out of the city, having been flanked by tombs on each side as the law directed. The entrance into the town affords an interesting picture of the private life of the Romans. We came next to the vestiges of Herculaneum, which is destroyed like Pompeii but by the lava or molten stone, which cannot be removed, whereas the tufa or volcanic ashes can be with ease removed from Pompeii, which it has filled up lightly. After having refreshed in a cottage in the desolate town, we proceed on our journey eastward, flanked by one set of heights stretching from Vesuvius, and forming a prolongation of that famous mountain. Another chain of mountains seems to intersect our course in an opposite direction and descends upon the town of Castellamare. Different from the range of heights which is prolonged from Vesuvius, this second, which runs to Castellamare, is entirely composed of granite, and, as is always the case with mountains of this formation, betrays no trace of volcanic agency. Its range was indeed broken and split up into specimens of rocks of most romantic appearance and great variety, displaying granite rock as the principal part of its composition. The country on which these hills border is remarkable for its powers of vegetation, and produces vast groves of vine, elm, chestnut, and similar trees, which grow when stuck in by cuttings. The vines produce Lacryma Christi in great quantities--not a bad wine, though the stranger requires to be used to it. The sea-shore of the Bay of Naples forms the boundary on the right of the country through which our journey lies, and we continue to approach to the granite chain of eminences which stretch before us, as if to bar our passage.

As we advanced to meet the great barrier of cliffs, a feature becomes opposed to us of a very pronounced character, which seems qualified to interrupt our progress. A road leading straight across the branch of hills is carried up the steepest part of the mountain, ascending by a succession of zig-zags, which the French laid by scale straight up the hill. The tower is situated upon an artificial eminence, worked to a point and placed in a defensible position between two hills about the same height, the access to which the defenders of the pass could effectually prohibit.

Sir William Gell, whose knowledge of the antiquities of this country is extremely remarkable, acquainted us with the history.

In the middle ages the pasturages on the slope of these hills, especially on the other side, belonged to the rich republic of Amain, who built this tower as an exploratory gazeeboo from which they could watch the motions of the Saracens who were wont to annoy them with plundering excursions; but after this fastness [was built] the people of Amalfi usually defeated and chastised them. The ride over the opposite side of the mountain was described as so uncommonly pleasant as made me long to ride it with assistance of a pony. That, however, was impossible. We arrived at a country house, near a large town situated in a ravine or hollow, which was called La Cava from some concavities which it exhibited.

We were received by Miss Whyte, an English lady who has settled at La Cava, and she afforded us the warmest hospitality that is consistent with a sadly cold chilling house. They may say what they like of the fine climate of Naples--unquestionably they cannot say too much in its favour, but yet when a day or two of cold weather does come, the inhabitants are without the means of parrying the temporary inclemency, which even a Scotsman would scorn to submit to. However, warm or cold, to bed we went, and rising next morning at seven we left La Cava, and, making something like a sharp turn backwards, but keeping nearer to the Gulf of Salerno than in yesterday's journey, and nearer to its shore. We had a good road towards Paestum, and in defiance of a cold drizzling day we went on at a round pace. The country through which we travelled was wooded and stocked with wild animals towards the fall of the hills, and we saw at a nearer distance a large swampy plain, pastured by a singularly bizarre but fierce-looking buffalo, though it might maintain a much preferable stock. This palace of Barranco was anciently kept up for the King's sport, but any young man having a certain degree of interest is allowed to share in the chase, which it is no longer an object to preserve. The guest, however, if he shoots a deer, or a buffalo, or wild boar, must pay the keeper at a certain fixed price, not much above its price in the market, which a sportsman would hardly think above its worth for game of his own killing. The town of Salerno is a beautiful seaport town, and it is, as it were, wrapt in an Italian cloak hanging round the limbs, or, to speak common sense, the new streets which they are rebuilding. We made no stop at Salerno, but continued to traverse the great plain of that name, within sight of the sea, which is chiefly pastured by that queer-looking brute, the buffalo, concerning which they have a notion that it returns its value sooner, and with less expense of feeding, than any other animal.

At length we came to two streams which join their forces, and would seem to flow across the plain to the bottom of the hills. One, however, flows so flat as almost scarcely to move, and sinking into a kind of stagnant pool is swallowed up by the earth, without proceeding any further until, after remaining buried for two or three [miles?] underground, it again bursts forth to the light, and resumes its course. When we crossed this stream by a bridge, which they are now repairing, we entered a spacious plain, very like that which we had [left] and displaying a similar rough and savage cultivation. Here savage herds were under the guardianship of shepherds as wild as they were themselves, clothed in a species of sheepskins, and carrying a sharp spear with which they herd and sometimes kill their buffaloes. Their farmhouses are in very poor order, and with every mark of poverty, and they have the character of being moved to dishonesty by anything like opportunity; of this there was a fatal instance, but so well avenged that it is not like to be repeated till it has long faded out of memory. The story, I am assured, happened exactly as follows:--A certain Mr. Hunt, lately married to a lady of his own age, and, seeming to have had what is too often the Englishman's characteristic of more money than wit, arrived at Naples a year or two ago _en famille_, and desirous of seeing all the sights in the vicinity of this celebrated place. Among others Paestum was not forgot. At one of the poor farmhouses where they stopped, the inhabitant set her eyes on a toilet apparatus which was composed of silver and had the appearance of great value. The woman who spread this report addressed herself to a youth who had been [under] arms, and undoubtedly he and his companions showed no more hesitation than the person with whom the idea had originated. Five fellows, not known before this time for any particular evil, agreed to rob the English gentleman of the treasure of which he had made such an imprudent display. They were attacked by the banditti in several parties, but the principal attack was directed to Mr. Hunt's carriage, a servant of that gentleman being, as well as himself, pulled out of the carriage and watched by those who had undertaken to conduct this bad deed. The man who had been the soldier, probably to keep up his courage, began to bully, talk violently, and strike the _valet de place_, who screamed out in a plaintive manner, "Do not injure me." His master, hoping to make some impression, said, "Do not hurt my servant," to which the principal brigand replied, "If he dares to resist, shoot him." The man who stood over Mr. Hunt unfortunately took the captain at the word, and his shot mortally wounded the unfortunate gentleman and his wife, who both died next day at our landlady's, Miss Whyte, who had the charity to receive them that they might hear their own language on their deathbed. The Neapolitan Government made the most uncommon exertions. The whole of the assassins were taken within a fortnight, and executed within a week afterwards. In this wild spot, rendered unpleasing by the sad remembrance of so inhuman an accident, and the cottages which served for refuge for so wretched and wild a people, exist the celebrated ruins of Paestum. Being without arms of any kind, the situation was a dreary one, and though I can scarce expect now to defend myself effectually, yet the presence of [_illegible_] would have been an infinite cordial. The ruins are of very great antiquity, which for a very long time has not been suspected, as it was never supposed that the Sybarites, a luxurious people, were early possessed of a style of architecture simple, chaste, and inconceivably grand, which was lost before the time of Augustus, who is said by Suetonius to have undertaken a journey on purpose to visit these remains of an architecture, the most simple and massive of which Italy at least has any other specimen. The Greeks have specimens of the same kind, but they are composed not of stone, like Paestum, but of marble. All this has been a discovery of recent date. The ruins, which exist without exhibiting much demolition, are three in number. The first is a temple of immense size, having a portico of the largest columns of the most awful species of classic architecture. The roof, which was composed of immense stones, was destroyed, but there are remains of the Cella, contrived for the sacrifices to which the priests and persons of high office were alone [admitted].

A piece of architecture more massive, without being cumbrous or heavy, was never invented by a mason.

A second temple in the same style was dedicated to Ceres as the large one was to Neptune, on whose dominion they looked, and who was the tutelar deity of Paestum, and so called from one of his Greek names. The fane of Ceres is finished with the greatest accuracy and beauty of proportion and taste, and in looking upon it I forgot all the unpleasant feelings which at first oppressed me. The third was not a temple, but a Basilica, or species of town-house, as it was called, having a third row of pillars running up the middle, between the two which surrounded the sides, and were common to the Basilica and temple both. These surprising public edifices have therefore all a resemblance to each other, though also points of distinction. If Sir William Gell makes clear his theory he will throw a most precious light on the origin of civilisation, proving that the sciences have not sprung at once into light and life, but rose gradually with extreme purity, and continued to be practised best by those who first invented them. Full of these reflections, we returned to our hospitable Miss Whyte in a drizzling evening, but unassassinated, and our hearts completely filled with the magnificence of what we had seen. Miss Whyte had in the meanwhile, by her interest at La Trinità with the Abbot, obtained us permission to pay a visit to him, and an invitation indeed to dinner, which only the weather and the health of Sir William Gell and myself prevented our accepting. After breakfast, therefore, on the 18th of March, we set out for the convent, situated about two or three miles from the town in a very large ravine, not unlike the bed of the Rosslyn river, and traversed by roads which from their steepness and precipitancy are not at all laudable, but the views were beautiful and changing incessantly, while the spring advancing was spreading her green mantle over rock and tree, and making that beautiful which was lately a blighted and sterile thicket. The convent of Trinità itself holds a most superb situation on the projection of an ample rock. It is a large edifice, but not a handsome one--the monks reserving their magnificence for their churches--but was surrounded by a circuit of fortifications, which, when there was need, were manned by the vassals of the convent in the style of the Feudal system. This was in some degree the case at the present day. The Abbot, a gentlemanlike and respectable-looking man, attended by several of his monks, received us with the greatest politeness, and conducted us to the building, where we saw two great sculptured vases, or more properly sarcophagi, of [marble?], well carved in the antique style, and adorned with the story of Meleager. They were in the shape of a large bath, and found, I think, at Paestum. The old church had passed to decay about a hundred years ago, when the present fabric was built; it is very beautifully arranged, and worthy of the place, which is eminently beautiful, and of the community, who are Benedictines--the most gentlemanlike order in the Roman Church.

We were conducted to the private repertory of the chapel, which contains a number of interesting deeds granted by sovereigns of the Grecian, Norman, and even Saracen descent. One from Roger, king of Sicily, extended His Majesty's protection to some half dozen men of consequence whose names attested their Saracenism.

In all the society I have been since I commenced this tour, I chiefly regretted on the present occasion the not having refreshed my Italian for the purpose of conversation. I should like to have conversed with the Churchmen very much, and they seem to have the same inclination, but it is too late to be thought of, though I could read Italian well once. The church might boast of a grand organ, with fifty-seven stops, all which we heard played by the ingenious organist. We then returned to Miss Whyte's for the evening, ate a mighty dinner, and battled cold weather as we might.

In further remarks on Paestum I may say there is a city wall in wonderful preservation, one of the gates of which is partly entire and displays the figure of a Syren under the architrave, but the antiquity of the sculpture is doubted, though not that of the inner part of the gate--so at least thinks Sir William, our best authority on such matters. Many antiquities have been, and many more probably will be, discovered. Paestum is a place which adds dignity to the peddling trade of the ordinary antiquarian.

_March_ 19.--This morning we set off at seven for Naples; we observed remains of an aqueduct in a narrow, apparently designed for the purpose of leading water to La Cava, but had no time to conjecture on the subject, and took our road back to Pompeii, and passed through two towns of the same name, Nocera dei [Cristiani] and Nocera dei Pagani.[521] In the latter village the Saracens obtained a place of refuge, from which it takes the name. It is also said that the circumstance is kept in memory by the complexion and features of this second Nocera, which are peculiarly of the African caste and tincture. After we passed Pompeii, where the continued severity of the weather did not permit us, according to our purpose, to take another survey, we saw in the adjacent village between us and Portici the scene of two assassinations, still kept in remembrance. The one I believe was from the motive of plunder. The head of the assassin was set up after his execution upon a pillar, which still exists, and it remained till the skull rotted to pieces. The other was a story less in the common style, and of a more interesting character:--A farmer of an easy fortune, and who might be supposed to leave to his daughter, a very pretty girl and an only child, a fortune thought in the village very considerable. She was, under the hope of sharing such a prize, made up to by a young man in the neighbourhood, handsome, active, and of a very good general character. He was of that sort of person who are generally successful among women, and the girl was supposed to have encouraged his addresses; but her father, on being applied to, gave him a direct and positive refusal. The gallant resolved to continue his addresses in hopes of overcoming this obstacle by his perseverance, but the father's opposition seemed only to increase by the lover's pertinacity. At length, as the father walked one evening smoking his pipe upon the terrace before his door, the lover unhappily passed by, and, struck with the instant thought that the obstacle to the happiness of his life was now entirely in his own power, he rushed upon the father, pierced him with three mortal stabs of his knife, and killed him dead on the spot, and made his escape to the mountains. What was most remarkable was that he was protected against the police, who went, as was their duty, in quest of him, by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who afforded him both shelter and such food as he required, looking on him less as a wilful criminal than an unfortunate man, who had been surprised by a strong and almost irresistible temptation. So congenial, at this moment, is the love of vengeance to an Italian bosom, and though chastised in general by severe punishment, so much are criminals sympathised with by the community.

_March_ 20.--I went with Miss Talbot and Mr. Lushington and his sister to the great and celebrated church of San Domenico Maggiore, which is the most august of the Dominican churches. They once possessed eighteen shrines in this part of Naples. It contains the tomb of St. Thomas Aquinas, and also the tombs of the royal family, which remain in the vestry. There are some large boxes covered with yellow velvet which contain their remains, and which stand ranged on a species of shelf, formed by the heads of a set of oaken presses which contain the vestments of the monks. The pictures of the kings are hung above their respective boxes, containing their bones, without any other means of preserving them. At the bottom of the lofty and narrow room is the celebrated Marquis di [Pescara], one of Charles V.'s most renowned generals, who commanded at the battle of Pavia.... The church itself is very large and extremely handsome, with many fine marble tombs in a very good style of architecture. The time being now nearly the second week in Lent, the church was full of worshippers.

[While at Naples Sir Walter wrote frequently to his daughter, to Mr. Cadell, Mr. Laidlaw, and Mr. Lockhart. The latter says, "Some of these letters were of a very melancholy cast; for the dream about his debts being all settled was occasionally broken." One may be given here. It is undated, but was written some time after receiving the news of the death of his little grandson, and shows the tender relations which existed between Sir Walter and his son-in-law:--

MY DEAR LOCKHART,--I have written with such regularity that ... I will not recur to this painful subject. I hope also I have found you both persuaded that the best thing you can do, both of you, is to come out here, where you would find an inestimable source of amusement, many pleasant people, and living in very peaceful and easy society. I wrote you a full account of my own matters, but I have now more complete [information]. I am ashamed, for the first time in my life, of the two novels, but since the pensive public have taken them, there is no more to be said but to eat my pudding and to hold my tongue. Another thing of great interest requires to be specially mentioned. You may remember a work in which our dear and accomplished friend Lady Louisa condescended to take an oar, and which she has handled most admirably. It is a supposed set of extracts relative to James VI. from a collection in James VI.'s time, the costume (?) admirably preserved, and, like the fashionable wigs, more natural than one's own hair. This, with the Lives of the Novelists and some other fragments of my wreck, went ashore in Constable's, and were sold off to the highest bidder, viz., to Cadell, for himself and me. I wrote one or two fragments in the same style, which I wish should, according to original intention, appear without a name, and were they fairly lightly let off there is no fear of their making a blaze. I sent the whole packet either to yourself or Cadell, with the request. The copy, which I conclude is in your hands by the time this reaches you, might be set up as speedily and quietly as possible, taking some little care to draw the public attention to you, and consulting Lady Louisa about the proofs. The fun is that our excellent friend had forgot the whole affair till I reminded her of her kindness, and was somewhat inclined, like Lady Teazle, to deny the butler and the coach-horse. I have no doubt, however, she will be disposed to bring the matter to an end. The mode of publication I fancy you will agree should rest with Cadell. So, providing that the copy come to hand, which it usually does, though not very regularly, you will do me the kindness to get it out. My story of Malta will be with you by the time you have finished the Letters, and if it succeeds it will in a great measure enable me to attain the long projected and very desirable object of clearing me from all old encumbrances and expiring as rich a man as I could desire in my own freehold. And when you recollect that this has been wrought out in six years, the sum amounting to at least £120,000, it is somewhat of a novelty in literature. I shall be as happy and rich as I please for the last days of my life, and play the good papa with my family without thinking on pounds, shillings, and pence. Cadell, with so fair a prospect before him, is in high spirits, as you will suppose, but I had a most uneasy time from the interruption of our correspondence. However, thank God, it is all as well as I could wish, and a great deal better than I ventured to hope. After the Siege of Malta I intend to close the [series] of _Waverley_ with a poem in the style of the _Lay_, or rather of the _Lady of the Lake_, to be a L'Envoy, or final postscript to these tales. The subject is a curious tale of chivalry belonging to Rhodes. Sir Frederick Adam will give me a cast of a steam-boat to visit Greece, and you will come and go with me. We live in a Palazzo, which with a coach and the supporters thereof does not, table included, cost £120 or £130 a month. So you will add nothing to our expenses, but give us the great pleasure of assisting you when I fear literary things have a bad time. We will return to Europe through Germany, and see what peradventure we shall behold. I have written repeatedly to you on this subject, for you would really like this country extremely. You cannot tread on it but you set your foot upon some ancient history, and you cannot make scruple, as it is the same thing whether you or I are paymaster. My health continues good, and bettering, as the Yankees say. I have gotten a choice manuscript of old English Romances, left here by Richard, and for which I know I have got a lad can copy them at a shilling a day. The King has granted me liberty to carry it home with me, which is very good-natured. I expect to secure something for the Roxburghe Club. Our posts begin to get more regular. I hope dear baby is getting better of its accident, poor soul.--Love to Sophia and Walter.

Your affectionate Father,

WALTER SCOTT.]

FOOTNOTES:

[520] Of this visit to Pompeii Sir W. Gell says--"Sir Walter viewed the whole with a poet's eye, not that of an antiquarian, exclaiming frequently, 'The city of the Dead!'"

He examined, however, with more interest the "splendid mosaic representing a combat of the Greeks and the Persians."--_Life_, vol. x. p. 159.

[521] The places are now known as Nocera Superiore and Nocera Inferiore.

APRIL.

_April 15, Naples_.--I am on the eve of leaving Naples after a residence of three or four months, my strength strongly returning, though the weather has been very uncertain. What with the interruption occasioned by the cholera and other inconveniences, I have not done much. I have sent home only the letters by L.L. Stuart and three volumes of the Siege of Malta. I sent them by Lord Cowper's son--Mr. Cowper returning, his leave being out--and two chests of books by the Messrs. Turner, Malta, who are to put them on board a vessel, to be forwarded to Mr. Cadell through Whittaker. I have hopes they will come to hand safe. I have bought a small closing carriage, warranted new and English, cost me £200, for the convenience of returning home. It carries Anne, Charles, and the two servants, and we start to-morrow morning for Rome, after which we shall be starting homeward, for the Greek scheme is blown up, as Sir Frederick Adam is said to be going to Madras, so he will be unable to send a frigate as promised. I have spent on the expenses of medical persons and books, etc., a large sum, yet not excessive.

Meantime we [may] have to add a curious journey of it. The brigands, of whom there are so many stories, are afloat once more, and many carriages stopped. A curious and popular work would be a history of these ruffians. Washington Irving has attempted something of the kind, but the person attempting this should be an Italian, perfectly acquainted with his country, character, and manners. Mr. R----, an apothecary, told me a singular [occurrence] which happened in Calabria about six years ago, and which I may set down just now as coming from a respectable authority, though I do not [vouch it].

* * * * *

DEATH OF IL BIZARRO.

This man was called, from his wily but inexorable temper, Il Bizarro, _i.e._ the Bizar. He was captain of a gang of banditti, whom he governed by his own authority, till he increased them to 1000 men, both on foot and horseback, whom he maintained in the mountains of Calabria, between the French and Neapolitans, both of which he defied, and pillaged the country. High rewards were set upon his head, to very little purpose, as he took care to guard himself against being betrayed by his own gang, the common fate of those banditti who become great in their vocation. At length a French colonel, whose name I have forgot, occupied the country of Bizarro, with such success that he formed a cordon around him and his party, and included him between the folds of a military column. Well-nigh driven to submit himself, the robber with his wife, a very handsome woman, and a child of a few months old, took a position beneath the arch of an old bridge, and, by an escape almost miraculous, were not perceived by a strong party whom the French maintained on the top of the arch. Night at length came without a discovery, which every moment might have made. When it became quite dark, the brigand, enjoining strictest silence on the female and child, resolved to steal from his place of shelter, and as they issued forth, kept his hand on the child's throat. But as, when they began to move, the child naturally cried, its father in a rage stiffened his grip so relentlessly that the poor infant never offended more in the same manner. This horrid [act] led to the conclusion of the robber's life.

His wife had never been very fond of him, though he trusted her more than any who approached him. She had been originally the wife of another man, murdered by her second husband, which second marriage she was compelled to undergo, and to affect at least the conduct of an affectionate wife. In their wanderings she alone knew where he slept for the night. He left his men in a body upon the top of an open hill, round which they set watches. He then went apart into the woods with his wife, and having chosen a glen--an obscure and deep thicket of the woods, there took up his residence for the night. A large Calabrian sheepdog, his constant attendant, was then tied to a tree at some distance to secure his slumbers, and having placed his carabine within reach of his lair, he consigned himself to such sleep as belongs to his calling. By such precautions he had secured his rest for many years.

But after the death of the child, the measure of his offence towards the unhappy mother was full to the brim, and her thoughts became determined on revenge. One evening he took up his quarters for the night with these precautions, but without the usual success. He had laid his carabine near him, and betaken himself to rest as usual, when his partner arose from his side, and ere he became sensible she had done so, she seized [his carabine], and discharging [it] in his bosom, ended at once his life and crimes. She finished her work by cutting off the brigand's head, and carrying it to the principal town of the province, where she delivered it to the police, and claimed the reward attached to his head, which was paid accordingly. This female still lives, a stately, dangerous-looking woman, yet scarce ill thought of, considering the provocation.

The dog struggled extremely to get loose on hearing the shot. Some say the female shot it; others that, in its rage, it very nearly gnawed through the stout young tree to which it was tied. He was worthy of a better master.

The distant encampment of the band was disturbed by the firing of the Bizarro's carabine at midnight. They ran through the woods to seek the captain, but finding him lifeless and headless, they became so much surprised that many of them surrendered to the government, and relinquished their trade, and the band of Bizarro, as it lived by his ingenuity, broke up by his death.

A story is told nearly as horrible as the above, respecting the cruelty of this bandit, which seems to entitle him to be called one of the most odious wretches of his name. A French officer, who had been active in the pursuit of him, fell into his hands, and was made to die [the death] of Marsyas or Saint Polycarp--that is, the period being the middle of summer, he was flayed alive, and, being smeared with honey, was exposed to all the intolerable insects of a southern sky. The corps were also informed where they might find their officer if they thought proper to send for him. As more than two days elapsed before the wretched man was found, nothing save his miserable relics could be discovered.

I do not warrant these stories, but such are told currently.

[_Tour from Naples to Rome_], _April_ 16.--Having remained several months at Naples, we resolved to take a tour to Rome during the Holy Week and view the ecclesiastical shows which take place, although diminished in splendour by the Pope's poverty. So on the 15th we set out from Naples, my children unwell. We passed through the Champ de Mars,[522] and so on by the Terra di Lavoro, a rich and fertile country, and breakfasted at St. Agatha, a wretched place, but we had a disagreeable experience. I had purchased a travelling carriage, assured that it was English-built and all that. However, when we were half a mile on our journey, a bush started and a wheel came off, but by dint of contrivances we fought our way back to Agatha, where we had a miserable lodging and wretched dinner. The people were civil, however, and no bandits abroad, being kept in awe by the escort of the King of Westphalia,[523] who was on his road to Naples. The wheel was effectually repaired, and at seven in the morning we started with some apprehension of suffering from crossing the very moist marshes called the Pontine Bogs, which lie between Naples and Rome. This is not the time when these exhalations are most dangerous, though they seem to be safe at no time. We remarked the celebrated Capua, which is distinguished into the new and old. The new Capua is on the banks of the river Volturno, which conducts its waters into the moats. It is still a place of some strength in modern war. The approach to the old Capua is obstructed by an ancient bridge of a singular construction, and consists of a number of massive towers half ruined. We did not pass very near to them, but the site seems very strong. We passed Sinuessa or Sessa, an ancient Greek town, situated not far from shore. The road from Naples to Capua resembles an orchard on both sides, but, alas! it runs through these infernal marshes, which there is no shunning, and which the example of many of my friends proves to be exceeding dangerous. The road, though it has the appearance of winding among hills, is in fact, on the left side, limited by the sea-coast running northward. It comes into its more proper line at a celebrated sea-marsh called Cameria,[524] concerning which the oracle said "_Ne moveas Camarinam_," and the transgression of which precept brought on a pestilence. The road here is a wild pass bounded by a rocky precipice; on one hand covered with wild shrubs, flowers, and plants, and on the other by the sea. After this we came to a military position, where Murat used to quarter a body of troops and cannonade the English gunboats, which were not slow in returning the compliment. The English then garrisoned Italy and Sicily under Sir [John Stuart]. We supped at this place, half fitted up as a barrack, half as an inn. (The place is now called Terracina.) Near this a round tower is shown, termed the tomb of Cicero, which may be doubted. I ought, before quitting Terracina, to have mentioned the view of the town and castle of Gaeta from the Pass. It is a castle of great strength. I should have mentioned Aversa, remarkable for a house for insane persons, on the humane plan of not agitating their passions. After a long pilgrimage on this beastly road we fell asleep in spite of warnings to the contrary, and before we beat the _reveille_ were within twenty miles of the city of Rome. I think I felt the effects of the bad air and damp in a very bad headache.

After a steep climb up a slippery ill-paved road Velletri received us, and accommodated us in an ancient villa or château, the original habitation of an old noble. I would have liked much to have taken a look at it; but I am tired by my ride. I fear my time for such researches is now gone. Monte Albano, a pleasant place, should also be mentioned, especially a forest of grand oaks, which leads you pretty directly into the vicinity of Rome. My son Charles had requested the favour of our friend Sir William Gell to bespeak a lodging, which, considering his bad health, was scarcely fair. My daughter had imposed the same favour, but they had omitted to give precise direction how to correspond with their friends concerning the execution of their commission. So there we were, as we had reason to think, possessed of two apartments and not knowing the [way] to any of them. We entered Rome by a gate[525] renovated by one of the old Pontiffs, but which, I forget, and so paraded the streets by moonlight to discover, if possible, some appearance of the learned Sir William Gell or the pretty Mrs. Ashley. At length we found our old servant who guided us to the lodgings taken by Sir William Gell, where all was comfortable, a good fire included, which our fatigue and the chilliness of the night required. We dispersed as soon as we had taken some food, wine, and water.

We slept reasonably, but on the next morning

FINIS

FOOTNOTES:

[522] _Paese dei Marsi_ or _Marsica_.

[523] Jerome Bonaparte, ex-King of Westphalia.

[524] The sea marsh "Cameria" is not indicated in the latest maps of Italy, but it would appear that some such name in the Pontine Bogs had recalled to Sir Walter the ancient proverb relating to Camarina, that Sicilian city on the marsh "which Fate forbad to drain."--Conington's _Virgil (Æn._ iii. 700-1).

[525] Porta St. Giovanni, rebuilt by Gregory XIII. in 1574.

APPENDIX

No. II.

_Letter from Mr. Carlyle referred to in_ vol. ii. p. 160.[526]

EDINBURGH, 21 COMELY BANK, _13th April_ 1828.

SIR,--In February last I had the honour to receive a letter from Von Goethe, announcing the speedy departure, from Weimar, of a Packet for me, in which, among other valuables, should be found "two medals," to be delivered "_mit verbindlichsten Grüssen"_ to Sir Walter Scott. By a slow enough conveyance this _Kästchen_, with its medals in perfect safety, has at length yesterday come to hand, and now lays on me the enviable duty of addressing you.

Among its multifarious contents, the Weimar Box failed not to include a long letter--considerable portion of which, as it virtually belongs to yourself, you will now allow me to transcribe. Perhaps it were thriftier in me to reserve this for another occasion; but considering how seldom such a Writer obtains such a Critic, I cannot but reckon it pity that this friendly intercourse between them should be anywise delayed.

"Sehen Sie Herrn Walter Scott, so sagen Sie ihm auf das verbindlichste in meinem Namen Dank für den lieben heitern Brief, gerade in dem schönen Sinne geschrieben, dass der Mensch dem Menschen werth seyn müsse. So auch habe ich dessen Leben Napoleon's erhalten und solches in diesen Winterabenden und Nächten von Anfang bis zu Ende mit Aufmerksamkeit durchgelesen.

"Mir war höchst bedeutend zu sehen, wie sich der erste Erzähler des Jahrhunderts einem so ungemeinen Geschäft unterzieht und uns die überwichtigen Begebenheiten, deren Zeuge zu seyn wir gezwungen wurden, in fertigem Zuge vorüberführt. Die Abtheilung durch Capitel in grosse zusammengehörige Massen giebt den verschlungenen Ereignissen die reinste Fasslichkeit, und so wird dann auch der Vortrag des Einzelnen auf das unschätzbarste deutlich und anschaulich.

"Ich las es im Original, und da wirkte es ganz eigentlich seiner Natur nach. Es ist ein patriotischer Britte der spricht, der die Handlungen des Feindes nicht wohl mit günstigen Augen ansehen kann, der als ein rechtlicher Staatsbürger zugleich mit den Unternehmungen der Politik auch die Forderungen der Sittlichkeit befriedigt wünscht, der den Gegner, im frechen Laufe des Glücks, mit unseligen Folgen bedroht, und auch im bittersten Verfall ihn kaum bedauern kann.

"Und so war mir noch ausserdem das Werk von der grössten Bedeutung, indem es mich an das Miterlebte theils erinnerte, theils mir manches Uebersehene nun vorführte, mich auf einem unerwarteten Standpunkt versetzte, mir zu erwägen gab was ich für abgeschlossen hielt, und besonders auch mich befähigte die Gegner dieses wichtigen Werkes, an denen es nicht fehlen kann, zu beurtheilen und die Einwendungen, die sie von ihrer Seite vortragen, zu würdigen.

Sie sehen hieraus dass zu Ende des Jahres keine höhere Gabe hätte zu mir gelangen können. Es ist dieses Werk mir zu einem goldenen Netz geworden, womit ich die Schattenbilder meines vergangenen Lebens aus den Lethes-Fluthen mit reichem Zuge herauszuforschen mich beschäftige.

"Ungefähr dasselbige denke ich in dem nächsten Stücke von _Kunst und Alterthum_ zu sagen."

With regard to the medals, which are, as I expected, the two well-known likenesses of Goethe himself, it could be no hard matter to dispose of them safely here, or transmit them to you, if you required it, without delay: but being in this curious fashion appointed as it were Ambassador between two Kings of Poetry, I would willingly discharge my mission with the solemnity that beseems such a business, and naturally it must flatter my vanity and love of the marvellous, to think that, by means of a Foreigner whom I have never seen, I might now have access to my native Sovereign, whom I have so often seen in public and so often wished that I had claim to see and know in private and near at hand.--Till Whitsunday I continue to reside here; and shall hope that some time before that period I may have opportunity to wait on you, and, as my commission bore, to hand you these memorials in person.

Meanwhile I abide your further orders in this matter; and so, with all the regard which belongs to one to whom I in common with other millions owe so much,--I have the honour to be,

Sir, most respectfully your servant, THOMAS CARLYLE.

Besides the _two_ medals specially intended for you, there have come _four_ more, which I am requested generally to dispose of amongst "_Wohlwollenden_," Perhaps Mr. Lockhart, whose merits in respect of German Literature, and just appreciation of this its Patriarch and Guide, are no secret, will do me the honour to accept of one and direct me through your means how I am to have it conveyed?

_Translation of the Letter from Goethe_.

Should you see Sir Walter Scott, be so kind as return to him my most grateful thanks for his dear and cheerful letter,--a letter written in just that beautiful temper which makes one man feel himself to be worth something to another. Say, too, that I received his Life of Napoleon, and have read it this winter--in the evening and at night--with attention from beginning to end. To me it was full of meaning to observe how the first novelist of the century took upon himself a task and business, so apparently foreign to him, and passed under review with rapid stroke those important events of which it had been our fate to be eye-witnesses. The division into chapters, embracing masses of intimately connected events, gives a clearness to the historical sequence that otherwise might have been only too easily confused, while, at the same time, the individual events in each chapter are described with a clearness and a vividness quite invaluable.

I read the work in the original, and the impression it made upon me was thus free from the disturbing influence of a foreign medium. I found myself listening to the words of a patriotic Briton, who finds it impossible to regard the actions of the enemy with a favourable eye,--an honest citizen this, whose desire is, that while political considerations shall always receive due weight, the demands of morality shall never be overlooked; one who, while the enemy is borne along in his wanton course of good fortune, cannot forbear to point with warning finger to the inevitable consequences, and in his bitterest disaster can with difficulty find him worthy of a tear.

The book was in yet another respect of the greatest importance to me, in that it brought back to my remembrance events through which I had lived--now showing me much that I had overlooked, now transplanting me to some unexpected standpoint, thus forcing me to reconsider a question which I had looked upon as settled, and in a special manner putting me in a position to pass judgment upon the unfavourable critics of this book--for these cannot fail--and to estimate at their true value the objections which are sure to be made from their side. From all this you will understand how the end of last year could have brought with it no gift more welcome to me than this book. The work has become to me as it were a golden net, wherewith I can recover from out the waves of Lethe the shadowy pictures of my past life, and in that rich draught I am finding my present employment.

I intend making a few remarks to the same purpose in the next number of _Kunst und Alterthum_.[527]

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES:

[526] It is much to be regretted that Scott and Carlyle never met. The probable explanation is that the admirable letter now printed _in extenso_, coming into a house where there was sickness, and amid the turmoil of London life, was carefully laid aside for reply at a more convenient season. This season, unfortunately, never came. Scott did not return to Scotland until June 3d, and by that time Carlyle had left Edinburgh and settled at Craigenputtock. He must, however, have seen Scott subsequently, as he depicts him in the memorable words, "Alas! his fine Scottish face, with its shaggy honesty and goodness, when we saw it latterly in the Edinburgh streets, was all worn with care--the joy all fled from it, and ploughed deep with labour and sorrow."

Mr. Lockhart once said to a friend that he regretted that they had never met, and gave as a reason the state of Scott's health.

[527] This purpose Goethe seems to have carried out, for in the "Chronologie" which is printed in the two-volume edition of his works, published at Stuttgart 1837 (vol. ii. page 663), the following entry is found:--"1827. Ueber neuere französische Literatur.--Ueber chinesische Gedichte.--_Ueber das Leben Napoleon's von Walter Scott_."

No. III.

_Contents of the Volume of Irish Manuscript referred to_, vol. ii. p. 289.

1. The rudiments of an Irish Grammar and Prosody; the first leaf wanting.

2. The Book of _Rights_; giving an account of ye rents and subsidies of the kings and princes of Ireland. It is said to have (been) written by Beinin MacSescnen, the Psalmist of Saint Patrick. It is entirely in verse, except a few sentences of prose taken from ye booke of Glandelogh.

3. A short poem giving an account of ye disciples and favourites of St. Patrick.

4. A poem of Eochy O Flyn's; giving an account of the followers of Partholan, the first invader of Ireland after the flood.

5. A poem written by Macliag, Brian Boruay's poet Laureat. It gives an account of the twelve sons of Kennedy, son of Lorcan, Brian's father; and of ye Dalcassian race in general.

6. A book of annals from the year 976 to 1014, including a good account of the battle of Clontarf, etc.

7. A collection of Historical poems by different authors, such as O Dugan, etc., and some extracts, as they seem, from the psalter of Cashill, written by Cormac-mac-Cuilinan, Archbishop and King of Leath Mogha, towards the beginning or middle of the ninth century; Cobhach O Carmon and O Heagusa have their part in these poems. In them are interspersed many other miscellaneous tracts, among which is one called Sgeul-an-Erin, but deficient, wherein mention is made of Garbh mac Stairn, said to be slain by Cuchullin; a treatise explaining the Ogham manner of writing which is preserved in this book; the privileges of the several kings and princes of Ireland, in making their tours of the Kingdom, and taking their seats at the Feis of Tara; and an antient moral and political poem as an advice to princes and chieftains, other poems and prophecies, etc., chronological and religious, disposed in no certain order.

8. The last will and testament of Cormac-mac-Cuilinan in verse.

9. The various forms of the Ogham.

10. The death of Cuchullin, an antient story interspersed with poems, which, if collected, would contain the entire substance of the composition, which is very good (except in one instance) and founded on real fact.

11. The bloody revenge of Conall Cearnach for the death of Cuchullin. This may be considered as the sequel of the preceding story, and of equal authority and antiquity. It is written in the very same style, and contains a beautiful elegy on Cuchullin by his wife Eimhir.

12. The death of Cormac Con luings, written in the same style with the foregoing stories.

13. The genealogies of all ye principal Irish and Anglo-Norman families of Ireland to the end.

14. A very good copy of the Cath-Gabhra.

The above table of contents is in the handwriting of Dr. Matthew Young, late Bishop of Clonfert, a man possessing the highest talents and learning, and who had been acquainted with the Irish language from his infancy. J.B.

* * * * *

No. IV.

"_A Former Empress_."--P. 451.

The Church of Santa Maria del Carmine contains relics dear alike to the romance of democracy and empire. It was from this church that Masaniello harangued the fickle populace in vain; it was here that he was despatched by three bandits in the pay of the Duke of Maddaloni; and here he found an honourable interment during a rapid reflux of popular favour. In this church, too, lies Conradin the last prince of the great house of Suabia, with his companion in arms and in death, Frederic, son of the Margrave of Baden, with pretensions, through his mother, to the Dukedom of Austria. The features of the mediæval building have long since been obliterated by reconstructions of the 17th and 18th centuries, while round the tomb of Conradin a tissue of fictions has been woven by the piety and fondness of after times. The sceptics of modern research do not, however, forbid us to believe that there may be an element of truth in the beautiful legend of the visit and benefactions of Elizabeth Margaret of Bavaria, the widowed mother of Conradin, erroneously dignified with the title of Empress, to the resting-place of her son. Her statue in the convent, with a purse in her hand, seems to attest the tale, which was no doubt related to the Scottish Poet, and may well have stirred his fancy. What the epitaph was which he copied we cannot now determine. It is not pretended that the unhappy lady was buried here, but two inscriptions commemorate the ferocity of Charles of Anjou, and the vicissitudes of fortune which befell his victims. One, believed to be of great antiquity, is attached to a cross or pillar erected at the place of execution. It breathes the insolence of the conqueror mingled with a barbarous humour embodied in a play on words--for "Asturis" has a double reference to the kite and to the place "Astura," at which the fugitive Princes were captured:

"Asturis ungue Leo Pullum rapiens Aquilinum Hic deplumavit, acephalumque dedit."

The other lines, in the Church, of more modern date, are conceived in a humaner spirit, and may possibly be those which touched the heart of the old worshipper of chivalry.

Ossibvs et memoriæ Conradini de Stovffen, vltimi ex sva progenie Sveviæ dveis, Conradi Rom. Regis F. et Friderici II, imp. nepotis, qui cvm Siciliæ et Apvliæ regna exercitv valido, vti hereditaria vindicare proposvisset, a Carolo Andegavio I. hvivs nominis rege Franco cæperani in agro Palento victvs et debellatvs extitit, deniqve captvs cvm Frederico de Asbvrgh vltimo ex linea Avstriæ dvce, itineris, ac eivsdem fortvnæ sotio, hic cvm aliis (proh scelvs) a victore rege secvri percvssvs est.

Pivm Neap. coriariorvm collegivm, hvmanarvm miseriarvm memor, loco in ædicvlam redacto, illorvm memoriam ab interitv conservavit.

(For the details of the death of Conradin and the stories connected with his memory see Summonte, _Storia di Napoli_, vol. ii. Celano, _Notizie di Napoli Giornata Quarta_, and St. Priest, _Histoire de la Conquête de Naples_, vol. iii.)

* * * * *

No. V.

"Mother Goose's Tales," p. 459. _The following note by a distinguished authority on Nursery Tales, will be read with interest._

"It is unfortunate that Sir Walter Scott did not record in his Diary the dates of the Neapolitan collection of 'Mother Goose's Tales,' and of the early French editions with which he was acquainted. He may possibly have meant Basile's _Lo Cunto de li cunti_ (Naples, 1637-44 and 1645), which contains some stories analogous to those which Scott mentions. There can be no doubt, however, that France, not Italy, can claim the shapes of _Blue Beard_, _The Sleeping Beauty_, _Puss in Boots_, and the other 'Tales of Mother Goose,' which are known best in England. Other forms of these nursery traditions exist, indeed, not only in Italian, but in most European and some Asiatic and African languages. But their classical shape in literature is that which Charles Perrault gave them, in his _Contes de ma Mère l'Oie_, of 1697. Among the 'early French editions' which Sir Walter knew, probably none were older than Dr. Douce's copy of 1707, now in the Bodleian. The British Museum has no early copy. There was an example of the First Edition sold in the Hamilton sale: another, or the same, in blue morocco, belonged to Charles Nodier, and is described in his _Mélanges_. The only specimen in the Public Libraries of Paris is in the Bibliothèque Victor Cousin. It is probable that the 'dumpy duodecimo' in the Neapolitan dialect, seen by Scott, was a translation of Perrault's famous little work. The stories in it, which are not in the early French editions, may be _L'Adroite Princesse_, by a lady friend of Perrault's, and _Peau d'Ane_ in prose, a tale which Perrault told only in verse. These found their way into French and Flemish editions after 1707. Our earliest English translation seems to be that of 1729, and the name of 'Mother Goose' does not appear to occur in English literature before that date. It is probably a translation of 'Ma Mère l'Oie,' who gave her name to such old wives' fables in France long before Perrault's time, as the spider, Ananzi, gives his name to the 'Nancy Stories' of the negroes in the West Indies. Among Scott's Century of Inventions, unfulfilled projects for literary work, few are more to be regretted than his intended study of the origin of Popular Tales, a topic no longer thought 'obnoxious to ridicule.'"--A.L.

No. VI.

DESCENDANTS OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.

SIR WALTER SCOTT, == CHARLOTTE CARPENTER, d. Sept. 21, 1832. d. May 14, 1826. | ____________________________________|______________________________________________ | | | | SOPHIA, == JOHN GIBSON LOCKHART, WALTER, = JANE JOBSON. ANNE, CHARLES, d. May 1837. | d. Nov. 25, 1854. d. Feb. 8, d. 1877. d. June 1833. d. Oct. 28, 1841, | 1847, _s.p._ | _s.p._ |____________________________________________ | | | JOHN HUGH, WALTER SCOTT, CHARLOTTE, == JAMES HOPE. d. Dec. 15, 1831. d. Jan. 1853, d. Oct. 26, | d. April 29, _s.p._ 1858. | 1873. ________________________________________________|________ | | | MARY MONICA,==HON. JOSEPH MAXWELL, WALTER MICHAEL, MARGARET ANNE, | d. 1858. d. 1858. | ____________________________|__________________________________________________________________________ | | | | | | | WALTER MARY WINIFRED MARY JOSEPH MICHAEL, ALICE MARY MALCOLM JOSEPH MARGARET MARY JOSEPH, JOSEPHINE, JOSEPHINE, b. May 25, JOSEPHINE, RAPHAEL, LUCY, b. April 10, b. June 5, b. March 7, 1878, 1880. b. Oct. 9, b. Oct. 22, b. Dee. 13, 1875. 1876. d. March 12, 1880. 1881. 1883. 1886.

INDEX.

Abbeville, i. 284, 300. Abbotsford labourers, i. 156. Abercorn, Lady, ii. 452. Abercrombie, Dr., i. 159; ii. 356,400. Miss, ii. 281 _n_. Abercromby, James (afterwards Lord Dunfermline), ii. 326 and _n_. Lord, i. 24, 25, 109, 225, 226; ii. 4, 5, 86, 89, 124, 314. Aberdeen, Lord, ii. 63 _n_., 313, 314. Abud & Son, bill-brokers, London, i. 268; ii. 57 _seq_., 62 _n_., 65, 79. Academy, Edinburgh, Examination, ii. 4. Acland, Sir Thomas, ii. 163, 168. Adam, Right Hon. William, Lord Chief Commissioner, i. 140, 203, 209, 323, 357-8, 369; ii. 69, 74, _seq_., 86, 118, 133, 136, 326, 355, 364, 366, 375; sketch of, i. 86; at Abbotsford, ii. 95; Scott's visits to Blair-Adam, i. 215, 246, 403; ii. 207, 308, 336. _See_ Blair-Adam. Admiral Sir Charles, i. 61, 140, 247, 357, 369; ii. 207, 308, 336. Sir Frederick, i. 246; on Byron and the Greeks, 251, 252; ii. 283,462, 474. John, i. 86 _n_. Adam's class, High School, Edinburgh, ii. 274. Addington, Dr., ii. 188. Adolphus, John, ii. 169, 186, 187. John L., letters to Heber, ii. 24 and _n_., 25, 169, 273 _n_. Advocates' Library, plans, i. 122; ii. 84-85. African travellers, i. 170. Ainslie, General, ii. 135. Robert, ii. 257. Ainsworth, W.H., i. 273. Airaines, i. 300. Aitken, John, ii. 426. Albums, suppression of, i. 1. Alexander, Emperor, i. 292; ii. 49. Alexander, Right Hon. Sir W., Chief Baron of Exchequer, ii. 166. Mrs., of Ballochmyle, ii. 174. Algiers, consular establishment at, ii. 437-439. Allan, Thomas, ii. 76. Sir William, _P_.R.A., i. 45 and _n_., 119, 403; ii. 24 _seq_.; "Landing of Queen Mary," i. 225. Allans, the Hay (John Sobieski and Charles Edward Stuart), ii. 296, 299 _n_. Alloway, Lord, ii. 68 _n_., 212, _Almacks_, a novel, i. 370. Alnwick Castle, visit to, ii. 47; Abbey, 48. Alvanley, Lady, i. 196. Lord, ii. 169. Anderson, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 71. "Andrea de Ferraras," ii. 460. Annandale claim, i. 210. _Anne of Geierstein_, ii. 225, 246, 267. Anstruther, Philip, i. 405. Antiquarian Society of Scotland, ii. 74, 289. Appleby Castle, i. 270. Arbuthnot, Sir William, i. 96, 318; ii. 247, 286, 293. Mr. and Mrs., i. 305, 306 and _n_., 310; ii. 177, 179. Arden, Misses, ii. 169, 351. Argyle's stone, ii. 33. Argyll, John, Duke of, projected life of, ii. 269. Arkwright, Mrs., ii. 47, 170, 173, 177, 178, 180. Arniston, old oak room at, ii. 94. Ashbourne, ii. 152. Ashestiel visited in 1826, i. 168. Ashford criminal case, i. 309. Ashley, Lord, i. 292. Mrs., ii. 462, 481. Ashworth, Mr., ii. 27. Auchinrath, ii. 220. Audubon, John James, the ornithologist, i. 343-45, 354 _n_. Augmentation cases of stipend, ii. 345. Austen's, Miss, novels, i. 155; ii. 37. Aylesbury, ii. 156, 157. Ayton, Miss, prima donna of the Italian Opera, ii. 90.

Baillie, Charles, afterwards Lord Jerviswoode, ii. 85 _n_., 358. Baillie, Mrs. Charles, Mellerstain, ii. 109. Joanna, i. 150, 303; ii. 78, 162, 265 _n_., 273 _n_., 408 and _n_.; tragedy and witchcraft, 10. Bainbridge, George, of Liverpool, i. 190, 233, 252, 262, 338, 381, 382, 384, 390; ii. 9, 39, 53. 'Balaam,' i. 184 and _n_. Balcaskie Manor-house, i. 404. Balfour of Balbirnie, ii. 232. Charles, ii. 368. Ballantyne & Co., i. 51-53; stop payment, 83; liabilities, 99 _n_., ii. 160. Alexander, i. 192; ii. 14, 149, 258, 299, 312; skill as a violinist, i. 398; assumed as a partner, ii. 237. James, meeting with Cadell and Constable, i. 13; calls at Castle Street, 57; dinner and guests, 58; on Scott's style, 75, 81, 83; on _Devorgoil_, 95, 96; 'False Delicacy,' 99; _Woodstock_, 103; as "Tom Tell-truth," recollections of _Lord of the Isles_, 128; _Malachi_, 130, 132; mottoes, 161; opinion of _Woodstock_, 167; press corrections, 174, 191; 'roars for chivalry,' 222; opinion on _Napoleon_, 239, 251; illness, 257; at Abbotsford, 263-264; _Napoleon_, 374, 398; on _Bride of Lammermoor_ and _Legend of Montrose_, 408, 409 _n_.; prospect, ii. 4; _The Drovers_, 11; commercial disasters, 12 _n._; _Chronicles_, 14, 81, 90, 112; at Abbotsford, 15, 356-357 _n_., 395; the copyrights, 38; criticism, 78; Scott's consideration for, 106; on "Ossianic" character, 122, 158; Scott's handwriting, 204; wife's illness and death, 234-236; names his trustees, 238, 240, 266, 267; letter from Scott, 270, 272, 312, 315; visit to Prestonpans, 340; objects to a new epistle from Malachi, 357; approves of an amanuensis, 371; a motto wanted, 374. Ballingray, ii. 209, 338. Baluty Mount, ii. 440. Bankes, William, i. 12 and _n_., 306, 309; ii. 173 _n_. Bank of Scotland, ii. 244. Banking Club of Scotland, ii. 246. Bank-note business, i. 144. Bannatyne Club, i. 350, 351, 370; ii. 77, 89, 121, 237, 314, 338. _Bannatyne, George, Memorial of_, ii. 87 and _n_. Sir Wm, M'Leod, ii. 129. _Barham, The_, ii. 414 _seq_. Barnard Castle, ii. 197. Barranco, ii. 465. Barrington, Mrs., ii. 47. Barrow, Sir John, i. 21, 381; ii. 427. Bathurst, Earl, i. 362 _n_.; ii. 51, 172. Lady, i. 306. Colonel Seymour, ii. 445, 446. Bauchland, ii. 14. Bayes in the _Rehearsal_, i. 205 and _n_. _Beacon_ newspaper, i. 323 and _n_. Beard's _Judgments_, ii. 79. Beauclerk, Lady Charlotte, i. 18, 19. Beaumont and Fletcher's _Lover's Progress_, i. 46. Beaumont, Sir George, i. 111; anecdote of, with Wordsworth, 334; death, 358. Beauvais Cathedral, i. 285. Bedford, Duke and Duchess of, ii. 73. Belhaven, Lord and Lady, ii. 133. Bell, Mr., London, ii. 170. Mr., ii. 225, 226. George, ii. 73, 238. Miss E., of Coldstream, ii. 139 and _n_. Miss Jane, of North Shields, i. 101; ii. 2-3. Belsches, Miss W., afterwards Lady Forbes, i. 404 _n_.; ii. 55. Beresford, Lord, ii. 230. Admiral Sir John, ii. 43 and _n_. Berlingas, ii. 431. Bernadotte, i. 385. Berri, Duchess of, i. 296. Bessborough, Lord, ii. 50. Bethell, Dr., Bishop of Gloucester, ii. 47. _Bevis of Hampton_, ii. 460. Big bow-wow strain, i. 61, 155. Binning, Lord and Lady, ii. 78, 86. Birmingham, i. 313. Bishop, Dr., i. 408. "Bizarro, death of," ii. 476. Black, A. & C., publishers, ii. 108 _n_. Captain, R.N., i. 405. Black, Dr., account of David Hume's last illness, ii. 4-5. _Blade Dwarf_, scene of the, ii. 306 _n_. Black-fishing Court at Selkirk, ii. 357. Blackwood, William, and _Malachi_, _i_. 130, 179, 222, 233. Blackwood's _Magazine_, ii. 266, 386 _n_. Blair, Captain, ii. 396. Sir U. Hunter, ii. 236. Colonel, and Mrs. Hunter, ii. 233, 236, 238, 239. Blair-Adam, i. 246; meetings of Blair-Adam Club, i. 215, 403; ii. 207; 12th anniversary, 308; 13th, 336. Blakeney, Mr., tutor to the Duke of Buccleuch, i. 321. Blomfield, Bishop, i. 26; ii. 163. Bloomfield, Lord, i. 411. Boaden's, James, the Garrick papers, ii. 83 _n_. _Bonaparte_, See _Napoleon_. Bonnechose, Emile de, i. 287. _Bonnie Dundee_, air of, i. 60, 64, 65. Bonnington, Mr., at Kenilworth, ii. 153 _n_. Bonnymoor conflict, ii. 435. Boothby, Sir William, i. 51. Borgo, Count Pozzo di, i. 266, 286, 289, 297. Borthwick Castle, ii. 92-93. Borthwicks of Crookston, i. 359, 395. Boswell, Sir Alexander, duel with Stuart of Dunearn, i. 58 and _n_.; ii. 232. James, i. 58 _n_. Bothwell Castle, ii. 192 _n_. Boufflers, Madame de, i. 299 and _n_. Boulogne, i. 300. Bourgoin, Mademoiselle, a French actress, i. 287. Bourmont, General, ii, 438. Boutourlin's Moscow Campaign, i. 318. Bouverie, Mr., the English Commissioner, ii. 212. Boyd, Mr., Broadmeadows, i. 242. Boyd, Walter, of Boyd, Benfield & Co., ii. 166, 167 and _n_. Boyle, Eight Hon. David, Lord Justice-Clerk, i. 10, 14, 27, 57, 109, 409; ii. 124, 229, 314. Brabazon, Lady Theodosia, ii. 72. Bradford, Sir Thomas, i. 264; ii. 334. Brahan Castle, ii. 203 _n_. _Brambletye House_, i. 273 and _n_. Bran, Scott's deerhound, ii. 372 _n_. Braxfield, Lord, i. 27 _n_. Brewer's _Merry Devil_, ii. 10 and _n_. Brewster, Dr. (afterwards Sir David), and Mrs., i. 233 and _n_., 241; ii. 2, 25, 50, 53, 146, 259, 260, 275, 279, 371. _Bride of Lammermoor_, letter from William Clerk, ii. 300 _n_. Bridge, Mr., the jeweller, ii. 175. Brinkley, Dr. John, Bishop of Cloyne, ii. 290. Brisbane, Sir Thomas M., i. 249 and _n_., 318; ii. 8. Bristol riots, ii. 419 _n_., 435 and _n_. Brocque, Monsieur, of Montpelier, i. 148. Brougham, Lord, ii. 205, 414. Brown's _Selkirkshire_ quoted, i. 356; ii. 358 _n_. Brown, Launcelot, ii. 47. Brown, Misses, of George Square, Edinburgh, ii. 35, 72. Brown's, Mrs., lodgings, 5 St. David Street, i. 191, 226. Bruce, Professor John, ii. 309 and _n_. Bruce, Tyndall, ii. 309. Bruce, Mr., from Persia, i. 250, 251. Bruce, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 146. Brunel, ii. 425. Brunton, Rev. Dr., i. 175 _n_. Brydone, Mrs. (widow of Patrick Brydone), i. 61 and _n_. Buccleuch, fifth Duke of, i. 110, 244, 265, 326 _n_., 336; ii. 71, 96, 120, 177, 223, 224, 232, 381, 392, 415. Buccleuch, Dowager Duchess of. _See_ Montagu. Buchan, Earl of, i. 255, 328; death of, ii. 272. Buchan, Dr. James, i. 14. Buchan, Peter, Peterhead, ii. 24. Buchanan, Hector Macdonald, i. 6 _n_., 31, 209, 326, 359, 412; ii. 69, 85, 136, 200. Buchanan, James Macdonald, ii. 201. Buchanan, Miss Macdonald, of Drummakill, i. 3, 106, 343, 361. Buchanan, Major, of Cambusmore, ii. 89, 125. Buchanan, Mr., Scott's amanuensis, ii. 344, 349. Buckingham, Duchess of, i. 277. Buckingham's assassination, ii. 426. Bugnie, Signor, ii. 76. Burchard, Captain, i. 382. Burke, Edmund, ii. 177, 189. Burke, trial of, ii. 218 _n_.; execution, 225, 227, 245; Patterson's "collection of anecdotes," 263. Burleigh House, visit to, i. 272. Burn, Mr., architect, ii. 76, 77 _n_., 93, 403, 404. Burnet, George, funeral of, ii. 344. Burney, Dr., anecdote regarding, i. 309; ii. 190 and _n_. Burns, Col. James Glencairn, ii. 411. Burns, Robert, i. 202, 276, Scott's admiration for, 321; skill in patching up old Scotch songs, ii. 25. Burns, Tom, Coal Gas Committee, ii. 139. Burrell, a teacher of drawing, i. 137. Bury, Lady Charlotte (Campbell), i. 277; ii. 289, 299. Butcher, Professor, i. 113 _n_. Butler, Lady Eleanor, ii. 152 _n_. Byers, Colonel, ii. 29. Byron, Lord, notes, i. 1; memoirs, 8-9; characteristics of, 11-13; lunch at Long's in 1815, 59; views of the Greek question, 252; Moore's request for letters, ii. 216, 303; allusion to early attachment, 341; MSS., 402.

Cadell, Francis, ii. 341. Cadell, Robert, of Constable and Co., meeting with Ballantyne and Constable, i. 13; on affairs in London, 18; sympathy for Scott, 56; advice to Scott, 83; estrangement from Constable, 88; the sanctuary, 105, 109; 121, 218; promised the _Chronicles_, 219, 248; second instalment on _Chronicles_, 268; eighth volume of _Napoleon_, 343; _Tales of a Grandfather_, 401; second edition of _Napoleon_, ii. 3; equally responsible with Constable and Ballantyne, 12 _n_; General Gourgaud, 26; copyright of novels, 35; Scott's opinion of, 38; visits London, 61, 65, 66; copyright, 67; second series _Chronicles_, 68, 75; copyrights, 80; dissatisfied with the _Chronicles_, 81, 82, 84; plans for acquiring copyrights, 86; their purchase, 89-91; new edition of _Tales of a Grandfather,_ 96, 106, 110, 112, 117; the _Magnum_, 119, 120, 123; proposals for three novels, 146; third edition of _Tales of a Grandfather_, 147; plans for the _Magnum_, 149, 158; success of _Fair Maid of Perth_, 200, 201; trustee for Ballantyne, 238; Heath's letter, 241; prospectus of _Magnum_ issued, 243; Scott's efforts in behalf of, 244; and reciprocation, 245; opinion of _Anne of Geierstein,_ 246, 249, 274, 281; prospects of _Magnum_, 285, 287, 294, 295; in treaty for _Poetical Works_, 296, 299; _Magnum_, 301, 302, 303, 307, 313, 321; a faithful pilot, 328; twelfth volume of _Magnum_, 331, 339; Prestonpans, 340; new copyrights, 351, 354; at Abbotsford, 356 _n_; remonstrates against a new _Malachi_, 363; Scott's visit, 374; copyrights, 383; bad debts, 395, 412, 418; 433, 456, 461, 472-473. Cæsarias, Sir Ewain, grave, ii. 151. Calais, i. 283-284, 300. Cambridge Master of Arts, anecdote of, ii. 196. "Cameria," ii. 479. Cameron of Lochiel, ii. 17. _Camilla_, a novel, ii. 190 _n_. Campbell Airds, ii. 136. Saddell, ii. 136. Sir Archibald, of Succoth, i. 14; ii. 114. General, of Lochnell, ii. 85. Sir James, of Ardkinglas, _Memoirs_, i. 176 _n_., 319. Colonel, of Blythswood, ii. 32, 33. Thomas, at Minto, i. 62; characterised, 217-218, 394; in great distress, ii. 171. Walter, ii. 133. Canning, George, i. 26, 267, 307, 310, 381, 382, 383, 393; ii. 6, 56, 161; his death, 19-20. Canterbury, Archbishop of (Howley), ii. 162 _n_.; (Tait), ii. 4 _n_. Capua, ii. 479. Caradori, Madam, ii. 294, 299. Carlisle, ii. 150, 151, 198. Carlyle, Thomas, ii. 160 _n_., 483-486. Carmine Church of Santa Maria, ii. 488-9. Carnarvon, Lord, ii. 10, 35. Carr, Mr. and Misses, ii. 265, 266. Carthage, ii. 441. Caruana, Don F. (Bishop of Malta), ii. 449. Cashiobury, ii. 193. Cassillis, Ayrshire, ii. 207. Castellamare, ii. 464. Castle Campbell, ii. 207. Street, "Poor 39," i. 122, 136-137, 155, 218. Castlereagh. _See_ Londonderry. Cathcart, Captain, ii. 236. Cauldshiels, i. 228; Loch, 241. Cay, John, i. 22, 31. Cayley, Sir John, ii. 80. Celtic Society, present of a broadsword, i. 98; dinner, ii. 115, 248. Ceuta, ii. 436. Chalmers, Dr., on Waverley Novels, i. 175 _n._ Chambers, Robert, ii. 67, 233. William, ii. 77 _n._ Chantrey, Sir Francis, i. 119; ii. 176 _n._; Scott sits for second bust, 182, 187. Charlcote Hall, ii. 155. Charles V. and Algiers, ii. 437. Edward, Prince, and the '45 at Culloden, i. 114-115; ii. 395. Charpentier, Madame (Lady Scott's mother), i. 188. Chatham, Lord, ii. 188. Chaworth, Mary, ii. 418 and _n._ Cheape, Douglas, i. 323-324 and _n._ George, ii. 310, 338. Chessmen from Lewis, ii. 422 and _n._ Cheltenham, i. 312. Chevalier, M., i. 290. Chiefswood, summer residence of Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, i. 170, 238, 262; ii. 24, 271. Chiswick, ii. 182. Christie, Mr. and Mrs., i. 311. _Chronicles of the Canongate_, first series: commencement, i. 200; progress, 213, 214; ii. 2, 36 _n._, 58 _n._; completion and publication, 59 _n._; i. 81-84; second series, in progress, ii. 62, 63, 68, 76; finished in April 1828, 158 and _n._ _Chroniques Nationales_, Jacques de Lalain, i. 127. _Civic Crown, the_, i. 10. Clan Ranald, the, i. 121. Clanronald's story of Highland credulity, ii. 71. Clarence, Duke of, i. 261; ii. 5. Clarendon's collection of pictures, ii. 192. Clarkson, Dr. James, i. 64, 381; ii. 365. Dr. Eben., ii. 149 and _n._, 373. Cleasby, Mr., ii. 261, 263. Cleghorn, Hugh, i. 405 and _n._ Clephane, Mrs. and Miss Maclean, i. 116; ii. 32, 333. Clerk, Sir George, i. 393-394. Miss E., death of, i. 83. Lieut. James, ii. 314. William, prototype of _Darsie Latimer_, i. 46, 61, 106, 124, 133, 140, 215, 221, 223, 225, 326, 343, 357, 366, 369, 395, 402, 403; ii. 4, 72, 75, 98, 124, 132, 133, 200, 201, 207, 211, 224, 229, 299, 300, 308, 314, 374 _n._; sketch of, i. 2; chambers in Rose Court, 134; as a draughtsman, 138; dinner party, 368; Gourgaud, ii. 26, 30; on the judges' salaries, 288; letter from, 300 _n._ Clerk, Baron, i. 402; ii. 212, 305. Clerk's, John, _Naval Tactics_, i. 2 _n._ Clive, Lord, ii. 170, 181. Clonfert, Bishop of, ii. 486-7. Club, the, i. 135 _n._; ii. 345. Clunie, Rev. John, ii. 92 and _n._ Coal Gas Co., i. 398, 400; ii. 132,139. Coalstoun Pear, ii. 282 and _n._ Cochrane, Mr., of the _Foreign Review_, ii. 274. Cockburn, Lord, i. 320; the poisoning woman, 361 _n._; ii. 67, 218 _n._ Sir George, i. 278; his journal, 281. Robert, i. 16. Cockenzie, ii. 341. Codman, Mr., of Boston, ii. 286. Cohen. _See_ Palgrave. Coke of Norfolk. _See_ Leicester. Colburn, Mr. Henry, and the Garrick Papers, ii. 83; Huntly Gordon and the _Religious Discourses_, 114. Coleridge, Sir John Taylor, i. 21, 26 _n._ S.T., ii. 164, 186 _n._, 449 and _n._ Collyer, tutor to Count Davidoff, i. 15, 45; ii. 147. Colman, Mr., ii. 83, 84, 176. Colne, the, ii. 193. Colquhoun, John, of Killermont, ii. 336. Commission on the colleges in Scotland, i. 256. Composition, mode of, i. 117. Compton, Lady, ii. 25 and _n._, 30, 32. Conjuring story, ii. 419-420. Conradin, ii. 451 and _n._, 488-9. Constable & Co., position in Nov. 1825, i. 9; bond for £5000 for relief of H. and R., 30; confidence in London house, 60; the origin of the _Magnum_, 63, 64; anxiety, 68, 75; mysterious letter from, 81; H. and R.'s dishonoured bill for £1000, 82; the consequences of the fall, 85; _Malachi_, 130; affairs, 99, 109, 207, 379; "Did Constable ruin Scott?" ii. 12 _n._; creditors, 38, 85; debts, 287, 473. Archibald, confidence in H. and R., i. 13, 57; in London, 81; interview with Scott on Jan. 24th, 1826, 92, 93; and on Feb. 6th, 107; and on March 14th, 154; power of gauging the value of literary property, 267 _n._; death, ii. 11, 12. Constable, George, ii. 308 _n._, 340. _Constable's Miscellany_, dedication to George IV., i. 58 _n._ Contemporary Club, i. 226. Conversation, English, Scotch, and Irish, i. 2, 247. Conyngham, Lady, i. 278. Cooper, J. Fenimore, _The Pilot_ at the Adelphi, London, i. 280; meets Scott at Paris, 295; publishing in America, 295, 296, 298; letter to Scott, ii. 109 _n._; Scott reads _Red Rover_, 111; and _Prairie_, 116, 172; Mme. Mirbel's portrait of Scott, 256 _n._ Mr., an actor, i. 400. Copyrights of Waverley Novels, purchase of, ii. 80, 82, 85, 86; bought, 89; 90, 91. Corby Castle, ii. 151. Corder's trial, ii. 339. Corehouse, ii. 33, 34. Cork, freedom of, to Scott, i. 68. Cornwall, Barry. _See_ Procter. Corri, Natali, ii. 202 and _n._ Coulter, Provost, i. 172 and _n._ _Count Robert of Paris_, origin of, i. 128; condemned by Cadell and Ballantyne, ii. 405. Court of Session, new regulations, i. 207, 208. Coutts, Mrs., afterwards Duchess of St. Albans, i. 18, 19, 93, 278; letter from, 414 _n._ Covenanters, Scott and the, ii. 404 _n._ Cowan, Alexander, i. 98, 99; ii. 85, 238, 395. Chas., _Reminiscences_, ii. 425 _n._ Cowdenknowes, visit to, i. 262. Cowper, Mr., ii. 475. Crabbe, Mr., i. 334; ii. 162 _n._ Craig, Sir James Gibson, ii. 12 _n._, 67 _n._ Craigcrook, ii. 292. _Cramond Brig_, i. 368. Crampton, Sir Philip, i. 242 _n._ Cranstoun, George, Lord Corehouse, Dean of Faculty, i. 206 and _n._, 223, 357, 369; Scott's visit to Corehouse, ii, 33, 130; _Maule_ v. _Maule_, 217. Henry, i. 237 and _n._, 381; ii. 258. Craven, Mr. Keppel, ii. 460. Crighton, Tom, i. 245. Cringletie, Lord. _See_ Murray, J.W. Crocket, Major, i. 364. Croker, Crofton, i. 278, 282. Croker, J. Wilson, i. 26, 158, 309, 385; ii. 163, 167, 173, 226, 256, 257, 304 _n._, 416; on _Malachi_, 159, 164; Duke of Clarence, 261, 262, 278, 302, 305, 306; dinner at the Admiralty, 307. Culross, excursion to, ii. 336, 337. Cumberland, Richard, i. 79. _Cumnor Hall_, ii. 228. Cunliffe, Mr., ii. 160. Cunningham, Allan, i. 278, 282; ii. 174 _n._, 184, 187, 191; Scott's opinion of, i. 305. Curle, James, Melrose, i. 69, 196. Mrs., funeral at Kelso, i. 78. Cutler, Sir John, i. 73 _n._

Daily Routine, ii. 379, 385. Dalgleish, Sir Walter's butler, i. 65, 135. Dalhousie, George, ninth Earl of, sketch of, ii. 93; Bannatyne Club, 237, 259, 260; public dinner to, 286. Dalkeith House, pictures at, ii. 76; visit to, 222. Dallas, Mr., ii. 222. Dalrymple, David, Westhall, ii. 341 and _n._ Sir John, i. 395; ii. 80, 236. Lady Hew Hamilton, i. 266. Dandie Dimnont terriers, i. 166; Ginger, 379; Spice, ii. 388. Danvers, by Hook, ii. 8 _n._ D'Arblay, Madame, i. 308-9; ii. 190. D'Arcon, Chevalier, ii. 434 _n._ "Darsie Latimer." _See_ Clerk, W. Dasent, Sir George, ii. 263 _n._ Dauphine, Madame la, i. 296. Daveis, Chas. S., ii. 342 and _n._, 343. Davidoff, Count, i. 15, 45, 63, 212, 220; ii. 23, 29, 68, 76, 85, 147, 298 _n._ Denis, the Black Captain, i. 176; ii. 68. Davidson, Prof., of Glasgow, ii. 314. Davies, Mrs., ii. 185. Davy, Lady, ii. 161, 165, 181, 423; sketch of, i. 107-109 and _n._ Dawson, Captain, ii. 222, 443. Dead friends to be spoken of, i. 195. "Death for Hector!" ii. 52. Dee, Dr., ii. 419. Defoe, criticism, i. 387 _n._, 390. Delicteriis, Chevalier, ii. 458, 460. _Demonology, The_, ii. 326-327, 333. Dempster, Geo., of Dunnichen, ii. 255. George and Mrs., of Skibo, i. 395 and _n._; ii. 251 and _n._, 255. Dependants at Abbotsford, ii. 111 _n._ D'Escars, Duchess, i. 281. Descendants of Scott, ii. 491. _De Vere_, ii. 2. Devonshire, Duke of, i. 297; ii. 181, 183. Diary, custom of keeping, ii. 103. Dibdin, Dr., ii. 168. Dickinson, John, of Nash Mill, ii. 31, 331. Disraeli, Benjamin, i. 21, 22; _Vivian Grey_, i. 402. Distance! what a Magician! i. 172. Dividends, declaration of, ii. 77, 353. Dixon's _Gairloch_, ii. 72 _n._ Dobie, Mr., ii. 129. Dogs take a hare on Sunday, i. 264. Don, Dowager Lady, i. 98. Sir Alexander, i. 62, 116; sketch of, 175-6; death, 177; funeral, 179. _Doom of Devorgoil_, i. 94, 95 _n._; ii. 200 _n._, 275. Douglas, Archibald, first Lord, i. 26 and _n._ second Lord, ii. 220 and _n._ Captain, R.N., ii. 220. Charles, i. 244, 312. David, Lord Reston, i. 133. Dr. James, of Kelso, ii. 42. Sir John Scott, i. 177, 179. Hon. Thos. _See_ Selkirk. _Dousterswivel, a_, i. 222. Dover, Baron, ii. 182 and _n._ Dover Cliff, i. 301. Dragut's Point, ii. 444 and _n._ Drumlanrig, visit to, i. 242-246. Drummond, Mrs., of Auteuil, i. 292, 294. Hay. _See_ Hay. Dryburgh Abbey, ii. 99 _n._ Dudley, Lord, i. 303; ii. 74 _n._, 159, 423-4. Dumergue, Charles, ii. 167, 184. Miss, i. 277, 283; ii. 157, 158. Duncan, Captain Henry, ii. 416, 423-4. Dundas, Henry, i. 49; ii. 255. Robert, of Arniston, i. 57, 323, 399; ii. 73, 92-94, 251, 255, 391. Sir Robert, of Beechwood, i. 6 and _n._, 24, 146, 148, 203, 399; ii. 125, 225, 226, 249, 279, 281, 282, 283, 328. William, the Right Hon., Lord Register, ii. 51, 73, 92, 237. Sir Lawrence, i. 335. Hon. Robert, son of second Lord Melville, i. 261. Robert Adam, i. 259; ii. 92. Dunfermline, Lord. _See_ Abercromby. Duras, Mr., i. 297. Durham, Bishop of. _See_ Van Mildert. Baronial Hall, ii. 43. Mr. and Mrs., of Calderwood, ii. 92. Duty, i. 168, 178, 197, 203, 205, 235, 236, 237, 238, 260, 265, 375, 379, 410, 413.

Eckford, John, ii. 191, 258. "Economics," i. 19. Edgcumbe, Hon. Mrs. George, ii. 182 _n._ Edgewell Tree, ii. 282 and _n._ Edgeworth, Henry King, ii. 17. Miss, i. 236; ii. 12 _n._ Edinburgh Academy, discussion on flogging, i. 322; pronunciation of Latin, 346. Life Assurance Company, i. 48. _Review_, editorship of, ii. 292 and _n._ Edmonstoune, James, ii. 314. Edwards, Mr., ii. 123-124. Elcho, Lord, and Prince Charles-Edward, i. 114-115. Eldin, Lord, i. 350. Election expenses, i. 271; ii. 46 _n._ Elgin, Lord, ii. 221, 394; imprisonment in France, i. 150, 319. Elibank, Lord, on English and Scotch lawyers, i. 153. _Elizabeth de Bruce_, i. 344, 347. Elliot, Sir Gilbert, ii. 69. Sir William, of Stobbs, i. 177, 179. Lady Anna Maria, i. 133 and _n._, 238; ii. 27, 52, 306. Lady Georgiana, ii. 182, 184. Mr. Agar. _See_ Dover. Charles, Lord Seaford, i. 27, 292; ii. 38. George, i. 247; ii. 20, 103. Mrs. George, ii. 94, 103. Colonel, ii. 95. Rev. William, missionary to Madagascar, ii. 307. Elphinstone, Mountstuart, i. 264. Sir R.H.D., ii. 300 _n._ Emus, ii. 8, 9. "Epicurean pleasure," i. 10. Erskine, Lord, i. 288; ii. 272. David, of Cardross, ii. 136. Henry, ii. 272. William, Lord Kinnedder, i. 61 _n._ 79, 95 _n._; ii. 166; destruction of Scott's letters, 415. the Misses, i. 411; ii. 113, 222, 397. H. David, ii. 274. Erdödy, Count, ii. 413. _Essay on Highlands_, i. 413; ii. 1. Essex, Earl of, ii. 193. Euthanasia, instances of: Dr. Black, Tom Purdie, ii. 413-14. _Evelina_, ii. 190. Exeter, Lady, i. 272-273. Exhibition of pictures, ii. 121-132. Expenses, ii. 110-111.

_Fair Maid of Perth_ commenced, ii. 62, 85; progress, 124; publication, 158 _n._; success of, 200. Falkland Palace, ii. 309. Fancy Ball, ii. 137. Fauconpret, M., ii. 36. Featherstone, Mr., i. 353. Felix, Colonel, ii. 419, 420. Fellenburg, E. de, ii. 334 and _n._ Ferguson, Prof. Adam, ii. 266, 365. Sir Adam, i. 45, 188, 189, 329, 333, 338, 357, 364, 367; ii. 313, 314, 317, 318 _n._, 333, 336, 338, 340, 359, 378; ii. 1, 2, 50, 52, 53, 56, 57, 58, 211, 230, 259, 300 _n._; _Bonnie Dundee_, i. 65, 69; New Year's Day dinner, 74; fall from horse, 362; dinner at W. Clerk's, 369; tour in Fife, 403; at Blair-Adam, ii. 308. Colonel, i. 164, 168, 174, 187, 189, 229, 238, 240, 241, 250, 252, 260, 264, 357, 376, 387, 389, 391; ii. 8, 29, 35, 77, 141, 159, 237, 262, 274, 279, 303, 317, 358, 378; Hogmanay dinner, i. 69; notes about Indian affairs, 36, 37, 52, 53; meet of the hounds at Melrose, 56. Captain John, i. 376, 391; ii. 95, 109, 240, 358; return from Spanish Main, i. 373; dines at Abbotsford, ii. 37. Miss Isabell, death, ii. 358, 359. Miss Margaret, i. 69, 162 and _n._ 264; ii. 225, 279. Miss Mary, i. 69; death of, ii. 224. the Misses, i. 49, 69 and _n._, 162. Fergusson, James, i. 359; ii. 271, 314. Sir James, i. 141. Dr., ii. 168. Ferrars of Tamworth, ii. 152. Ferrier, James, i. 103 _n._, 342; death of, ii. 221, 223. Miss, ii. 343; visit to Abbotsford, 406. Ferronays, Miss De la, ii. 462. Feversham, Lord (Duncombe), ii. 43. Fiddle or Fiddle-stick, i. 154. Fielding's farce, _Tumble-down Dick_, i. 118 _n._ Fine Arts, poetry and painting, i. 118-120. Fitzgerald, Vesey, i. 306. Fitz-James, Duke of, i. 297. Flahault, Count de, i. 291. Fletcher, Rev. Mr., ii. 307. Fleurs, ii. 27. _Flodden field_, ii. 39. Foley, Sir Thomas, ii. 425. Foote, Miss, i. 410. Foote's _Cozeners_, ii. 175. Forbes, Viscount, saved by his dog, i. 16. Baron, ii. 286, 287, 344. Hon. John, ii. 421. Captain, ii. 429. Sir John, i. 37. John Hay. _See_ Lord Medwyn. Sir William, offers of assistance, i. 86 and _n._; sketch of, 96, 97; ii. 62, 136. George, i. 397; ii. 238. William, of Medwyn, ii. 261 and _n._, 263, 264. Foreigners at Abbotsford, i. 13-15, 255. Forest Club, Scott dines with, ii. 54. Fortune, a mechanist, ii. 375 and _n._ Foscolo, Ugo, sketched, i. 14. Fouché, Baron, i. 292. Fox, Charles J., anecdote of, ii. 175, 176. Foy's book, and the Duke of Wellington, ii. 44, 45. Francklin, Colonel, ii. 307. _Frankenstein_, i. 174; dramatised, 400. Franks, Mr., i. 148. Freeling, Sir Francis, ii. 168. French Press, censors of the, ii. 53. Frere, J. Hookham, ii. 446 and _n._, 447, 448, 449. Fuller, John, M.P. for Surrey, ii. 176 and _n._ Funerals, dislike to, i. 172-173, 180. Fushie Bridge Inn, ii. 60 and _n._ Future Life, speculations on, i. 43-45.

Gaeta, ii. 480. Galashiels Road, ii. 360. Galignani, Mr., Paris, i. 286 and _n._; offer for _Napoleon_, 298. Galitzin, Princess, i. 294, 295, 299; ii. 18, 256 and _n._ Gallois, M., i. 286 and _n._, 288, 290, 296. Galt's _Omen_, i. 132 _n._, 203, 215; _Spaewife_, ii. 319; _Lawrie Todd_, 348. Gardening, ornamental, essay on, for the _Quarterly_, ii. 62. _Garrick, David, Private correspondence of_, i. 248; ii. 83 _n._ Mrs., anecdote of, i. 213 _n._; ii. 422. Garstang, ii. 152. Gattonside, 237 and _n._ Gell, Sir William, ii. 451 _n._, 455, 458 _n._, 460, 462-464, 468-470, 480, 481. Genie and author, a Dialogue, ii. 253-4. George II., anecdote of, ii. 179. III., anecdote of, ii. 51. IV., Scott at Windsor, i. 278; Scott dines with, ii. 178; statue, 284; death, 342. Prince, of Cumberland, ii. 184. Gibraltar, ii. 434 and _n._, 436. Gibson, John, jr., W.S., i. 83 and _n._; creditors agree to private trust, 96; meeting with Scott, Cowan, and Ballantyne, 99; creditors' approval, 104; lends Scott £240, 107; 124, 125; Constable's affairs, 164, 165; Constable's claims, 203, 206; sale of 39 Castle Street, 218; 248, 265; Miss Hume's trust, 347; 348, 367; Scott's travelling expenses, 394; 396; ii. 30, 31, 38; Lord Newton's decision, 56; Abud & Son, 57; 60, 61, 65; value of the _Waverley_ copyrights, 67, 91; _St. Ronan's Well_, 107; Coal Gas Co., 133; 139; plans for the _Magnum_, 149; 200, 239, 261; preparations for a second dividend, 338, 343, 412. Gifford, William, i. 26; funeral of, 340-342. Baron, i. 208 and _n._ Lady, ii. 415, 416. Giggleswick School, captain of, i. 42. Gilbert, Dr. Davies, ii. 173. John Graham, ii. 222, 224, 225, 227, 228, 301, 302; portrait of Scott, 217 and _n._ Gillespie, trial of, and sentence, ii. 68 and _n._ Gillian, the clan, ii. 52. Gillies, Lord, i. 225; ii. 73, 75, 116, 138, 236. Robert Pierce, i. 225, 378, 388 and _n._, 389; ii. 16, 80, 104, 109, 110, 143, 162, 168, 267, 271, 273, 301; characterisation of, i. 32, 33; difficulties, 50; Scott offers Chiefswood, 51; in extremity, 53; writes a satire, 221; a cool request, 262; 268; _Foreign Review_, 269. Gilly, Rev. William Stephen, ii. 7 and _n._, 42. Gipsies of the Border, ii. 60 _n._ Glasgow, visit to, in September 1827, ii. 33. Glengarry's death, ii. 113. Glenorchy, Lady, ii. 180. Gloucester, Bishop of (Dr. Bethell), ii. 47 and _n._ Goderich, Lord, ii. 30, 41 _n._, 91, 92 _n._ Godwin, William, ii. 161, 182. Goethe, letters from, i. 359 and _n._, ii. 160 _n._, 483-4. Goldsmith, Oliver, ii. 177. Gooch, Dr. Robert, i. 154, 280; ii. 313. Gordon, Alexander, fourth Duke of, ii. 73 _n._ Duke and Duchess, ii. 288. Lady Georgiana, ii. 73 and _n._ J. Watson, ii. 121, 398 and _n._ Sir Wm. Cumming, ii. 298. _n._ Major Pryse, _Personal Memoirs_, ii. 16 and _n._ George Huntly, amanuensis, i. 69 and _n._, 81, 100, 149, 339; ii. 16, 19, 22; sermons, 87, 114 and _n._, 133. Gourgaud, General, i. 298 _n._, 397; ii. 26 and _n._, 30, 34, 36, 51, 53, 58. Gower, Lord Francis Leveson, Poetry, i. 13 and _n._; _Tale of the Mill_, 356; ii. 35, 160, 170, 172, 184. Lady Frances Leveson, ii. 170, 178, 180, 184. Graeme, Robert, i. 395. Graham, Sir James, ii. 425, 428, 429. John. _See_ Gilbert. Lord William, ii. 409. of Clavers, ii. 73. Miss Stirling, ii. 75, 139, 282; _Mystifications_, 138 and _n._ Graham's Island, ii. 441. Grahame of Airth, i. 153. Grange, Lady, ii. 222. Grant, Sir Francis, i. 353 and _n._; sketch of, ii. 388-389; portrait with armour, 390. Grant, Sir William, ii. 178 and _n._ Mrs., of Laggan, i. 28, 29, 41 and _n._; ii. 407. Granville, Lord and Lady, i. 289, 291, 292, 295, 297. Gray, Lord and Lady, i. 409, 410. Greenshields, John, ii. 220 and _n._, 221. Grenville, Right Hon. Thomas, i. 304 and _n._; ii. 188. Greville, Lady Charlotte, ii. 177. Charles, ii. 170 _n._ Grey, Lord, ii. 91. Grey Mare's Tail, i. 246. Griffin's _Tales of the Munster Festivals_, ii. 143 and _n._ Grosvenor, Lord, ii. 192. Grove, The: Clarendon's pictures, ii. 192 and _n._ _Guise's, Duke of, Expedition_,--review of, in the _Foreign Quarterly_, i. 145; ii. 278. Gurney, Mr., ii. 186. Guthrie's _Memoirs_, ii. 110 _n._ Guyzard, M., i. 407 and _n._ Gwydyr, Lord, i. 310.

Haddington, Lord, ii. 233, 262. Haigs of Bemerside, i. 256 _n._, 390; ii. 25, 53, 202. Hailes, Lord, ii. 250, 265. Haliburton, David, i. 229, 232; ii. 191. Hall, Captain Basil, i. 149-150, 237 _n._, 318, 343; ii. 232, 286, 303, 306 _n._, 398, 425, 428. Sir James, i. 347. Halliday, Sir A., ii. 283. Hamilton, Sir William, i. 29; ii. 29, 235. Lady Charlotte, ii. 185. Robert, i. 203, 361, 369; ii. 73, 133, 212, 281, 283, 341. Captain Thomas, and Mrs., i. 220 and _n._, 231, 238, 241, 262; ii. 9, 23, 24, 29, 53, 85, 303, 304, 320; _Cyril Thornton_, i. 392. Bailie, ii. 220. Hampden, Lady (_née_ Brown), ii. 35, 72. Hampton Court, ii. 162-163, 189 and _n._ Handley, G., i. 161, 188, 307. Harper, Mr., gift of emus, ii. 8. Harris, Mr., ii. 428. Harrison, Colonel, ii. 168. Harrowby, Lord, ii. 91. Hartshorne's _Ancient Metrical Tales_, ii. 237 and _n._ Haslewood, Mr., ii. 39. Haunted Glen in Laggan, ii. 407. Hawthorne, N., on the English, ii. 343 _n._ Hay, Mr., Under-Secretary of State, i. 303. E.W. Auriol Drummond, i. 253 and _n._; ii. 140, 142, 225, 232, 236, 238, 239, 242, 243, 289, 432. Sir John, i. 42, 355; ii. 134, 241; Banking Club dinner, 246; meeting of theatre trust, 293. Robert, Colonial Office, i. 283. Haydon, B., i. 413; ii. 172 and _n._, 326. Heath, Charles, engraver, ii. 118, 133, 166, 240, 331. Heber, Reginald, i. 312; _Journal_, ii. 250 and _n._ Richard, i. 21. Hedgeley Moor, ii. 50. Hemans, Mrs., ii. 317, 319, 320. Henderson, Mr., Eildon Hall, his funeral, ii. 132. Henry's _History of England_, ii. 232. Hermitage Castle, sketch of, i. 138. Herries, Mr., ii. 30. Hertford, Lord, i. 385; ii. 455. Hertfordshire lanes, ii. 192. Highland credulity, ii. 71. "Highland Society," and Miss Stirling Graham's _Bees_, ii. 282. Highland Piper, i. 206. Hill, Right Hon. Mr., ii. 450 and _n._ Hinves, David, ii. 186 and _n._ History of Scotland, in the _Cabinet Cyclopædia_, ii. 278 and _n._ Hobhouse, John Cam, and Moore, i. 9, 12. Hodgson, Dr. F., i. 312. Hoffmann's Novels, reviewed for _Foreign Quarterly_, i. 389; ii. 16. Hogarth, George, i. 83; ii. 14, 15, 192. Hogg, James, breakfasts with Scott, i. 46; in difficulties, 123, 192, 344 _n._; loses his farm, 352; Royal Literary Society, 390, 391; ii. 34 and _n._; his affair of honour, 40 _n._, 96, 187 _n._; Six-Foot Club, 244 _n._; the _Noctes Ambrosianæ_, 386; Scott's interest in him, 386 _n._ Robert, i. 398 and _n._ Hogmanay dinner at Abbotsford, i. 69 Holland, Lady, ii. 183. Dr., i. 282 and _n._ Holyrood, an asylum for civil debtors, ii. 58 and _n._ Home, Earl and Countess of, i. 212 _n._, 244. Home, John, ii. 61; his _Works_ reviewed, i. 372 and _n._, 384. Hone's _Every Day Book_, ii. 344. Hood, Sir Samuel, ii. 203 _n._ Hook, Theodore, i. 302; _John Bull_, 302 _n._, 305; _Sayings and Doings_, ii. 128, 164 _n._ Hoole's _Tasso_, i. 204. Hope, General the Hon. Sir Alexander, ii. 35 _n._ Right Hon. Charles, i. 27, 57 and _n._; ii. 118, 279. Dr., ii. 30, 212. James, W.S., i. 14; ii. 30 and _n._ John, Solicitor-General for Scotland, i. 51, 136, 357, 407; ii. 78, 222, 247, 287; chairman to Lockhart's parting entertainment, i. 33; characterised, 49 and _n._ Sir John and Lady, of Pinkie, i. 16, 84; ii. 283, 289; dinner at Pinkie, 118; "Roman" antiquities, 119. Lady Charlotte, i. 57. Hopetoun, Earl of, i. 407. Countess of, ii. 247, 248, 299. Horne, Donald, ii. 115. Horner, Leonard, i. 345 and _n._ Horton, Wilmot, i. 278, 280 and _n._, 283; ii. 167. Hotham, Lady, ii. 447. _House of Aspen_, ii. 240. Howden, Mr., i. 141. factor for Falkland, ii. 309. Howley, Archbp. _See_ Canterbury. How to make a critic, i. 67. Hughes, Dr. and Mrs., i. 106, 277, 282 and _n._; ii. 181, 223. John, i. 312. Mr., printer, ii. 238. Hulne, Carmelite monastery of, ii. 48. Hume, Baron, i. 343, 356, 399; ii. 4, 85, 204, 236 and _n._, 293. David, burial-place, i. 94; deathbed, ii. 4 and _n._; _Works_ of, 151. Lady Charlotte. _See_ Lady C. Hamilton. Sir John, of Cowdenknowes, i. 262. Miss, i. 347. Joseph, M.P., i. 160, 161, 303. Mrs., Warwick Castle, ii. 153, 154 and _n._ Hunt, Leigh, _The Liberal_, i. 11 and _n._; ii. 119; "anecdotes of Byron," 130; "Byron," 135. Hunt, Leigh, Mr., English traveller, murdered, ii. 466. Hurst and Robinson, i. 9, 20, 53, 82, 96; ii. 61 _n._, 90, 91. Huskisson, Hon. W., M.P., i. 267, 307, 310; ii. 167. Hutchinson, Mr., ii. 133. Huxley, Colonel, i. 401.

Imagination, wand of, i. 66. "Imitators," i. 273-276. Immortality of the soul, i. 43-45. Impey, Mr. and Mrs., i. 247, 248, 251, 252. Inchmahome, ii. 208. Inglis, Dr., i. 347; ii. 139. Sir R.H., Bart., i. 283; ii. 162, 171, 415. Innes, Mr. Gilbert, ii. 293. Invernahyle. _See_ Stewart. Ireland, Mr., ii. 285. Irish Tour, i. 1-2. Anecdotes, wit, good-humour, absurdity, i. 4, 5. Irving, Rev. Edward, ii. 170, 286 and _n._, 287. Mr. (Lord Newton), i. 248. John, ii. 229, 314. Washington, ii. 155, 475. Itterburg, Count, ex-Crown Prince of Sweden, i. 385 and _n._ _Ivanhoe_ dramatised, i. 289 and _n._; ii. 305.

Jacob, William, ii. 160, 161 and _n._ James, G.P.R., letter from, ii. 282 _n._, 368. Jamieson, Dr. John, i. 230 and _n._, 232; ii. 238. Jardine, Sir Henry, i. 84, 358; ii. 305. Mr. and Mrs., i. 335. _Jeanie Deans_. _See_ Walker, Helen. Jedburgh election, i. 189; ii. 408. Jeffrey, Lord, i. 364, 399; ii. 205, 292; address on the combination of workmen, i. 16-17, 320; on Wordsworth, 333; dinner and guests, 353; the poisoning woman, 362. Jekyll, J., ii. 161. Jerviswoode, Lord. _See_ Baillie. Jobson, Mrs., i. 240, 253, 315, 316, 343, 395, 397; ii. 61. Johnson, Dr., ii. 177, 190, 227, 251, 255, 257, 277; _Evelina_, i. 309; epitaph on C. Phillips, ii. 14. Johnstone-Alva, ii. 360, 382, 394. Johnstone, Mr. Hope, i. 246. Mrs. J., i. 344 and _n._ Mr. and Mrs., of Bordeaux, ii. 313. the Border family, i. 210. Jollie, James, trustee, i. 83 _n._, 98, 221. Jones, Mr., i. 300. Miss, ii. 133. Journal, reflections, i. 1, 31; begins to tire, ii. 54; Johnson's advice, 257, 277.

_Kain and Carriages_, i. 140 and _n._ Katrine, Loch, scenery of, ii. 89 and _n._ Keeldar, people of, ii. 48. _Keepsake, The_, ii. 81 _n._, 116, 133, 166, 240. Keith, Sir Alex., ii. 71. William, i. 29. Mrs. Murray, _The Highland Widow_, i. 200. Kelly's _Reminiscences_ reviewed, i. 187. Kelso, visit to, ii. 27. Kemble, Charles, ii. 138. Stephen, ii. 47. Fanny, ii. 335, 340. Kendal, i. 313. Kenilworth, visit to, ii. 153 and _n._ Kennedy, Rt. Hon. F., of Dunure, ii. 10 and _n._, 338. Kent, Duchess of, ii. 184. Kerr, Mr. and Mrs. Charles, of Abbotrule, ii. 147, 335. Lord and Lady Robert, i. 16. the Misses, ii. 17, 66, 76, 92, 95, 105, 223, 288, 331. of Kippielaw, i. 256, 270, 337. Kinloch, George, of Kinloch, on _Malachi_, i. 224. Kinloch's _Scottish Ballads_, i. 369 and _n._ Kinnaird, Douglas, ii. 182. Kinnear, Mr., i. 96; ii. 134, 257. Kinnedder, Lord. _See_ Erskine. Kinniburgh, R., i. 257-258. Kirn Supper, ii. 55 and _n._ Knight, Charles, ii. 153 _n._ J. Prescott, i. 76, 79, 85 and _n._ Gally, ii. 171. Payne, ii. 142. Knighton, Sir William, i. 142, 276 and _n._, 304; ii. 67, 174, 313 and _n._; letter on Constable's _Miscellany_, i. 37; dedication of _Magnum_, ii. 178. Knox, Dr. Robert, ii. 217, 218 and _n._, 219, 225, 263. William, a young poet, i. 39, 40; ii. 17. Kubla-Khan and Hastings, i. 76.

Laidlaw, James, i. 264. William, i. 229, 264, 289, 335, 382, 389; ii. 199, 243; Scott's letter to, i. 97 _n._; summoned to town, 105, 110 and _n._; death and funeral of child, 171; on sale of _Napoleon_, 414 _n._; adventure in Gladdies Wiel, ii. 187 _n._; a walk with Scott, 279; Tom Purdie's death, 320; as amanuensis, 367, 369, 370, 371, 377, 378, 379, 380; opinion on Scott's Essay on Reform Bill, 382, 385; at _Count Robert_, 394; smites the Rock, 398; Scott's illness, 410, 472. Laine, M., French Consul, ii. 315. Laing, David, i. 401; ii. 88, 174 _n._ Laing-Meason, Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert, ii. 451 and _n._, 463. _Laird's Jock_, ii. 81 _n._ Lambeth, ii. 416. Landseer, Edwin, ii. 223; picture of dogs, i. 119; ii. 74; "Study at Abbotsford," 118, 121. Lang, Andrew, Sheriff-Clerk for Selkirkshire, ii. 125, 382 and _n._ Lang, Andrew, LL.D., ii. 382 _n._, 489-90. Lansdowne, Marquis of, i. 385; ii. 30, 91; Scott dines with, 165. Lardner, Dr., ii. 273, 277, 284, 303, 305, 306, 318. Latin, Scottish pronunciation of, i. 392. Latouche, Mrs. Peter, ii. 339, 349. Lauder, Sir T. Dick, ii. 231, 296, 297 and _n._ Laughter, natural and forced, i. 59. Laurie, Sir Peter, ii. 168. Lauriston, near Edinburgh, i. 299; ii. 76, 77 _n._ Marquis de, i. 299. Law as a profession in Scotland, i. 35, 36. Lawrence, Captain, ii. 428. Sir Thomas, i. 277, 281, 282, 283, 303; ii. 42, 171; portrait of Scott, i. 310, 388. Lebzeltern, Countess de, ii. 456. Leicester, Earl of, ii. 187 and _n._ Le Noir, M., i. 15. Leopold, Prince, ii. 184, 185. Leslie, C.R., i. 119; his portrait of Scott, 77 and _n._ Lessudden House, ii. 325, 349. Letters, arrangement of, ii. 19. Lévis, Duke de, ii. 265 and _n._ Lewis, M.G., i. 7; ii. 171; Lewis and Sheridan, i. 95 _n._; _Journal_, ii. 54 _n._ Lewis, Mr., method of improving handwriting, i. 224. Leyden, John, i. 218, 349. _L'homme qui cherche_, i. 183, 372. Library, enchanted, i. 312; ii. 252. Liddell, Dr., ii. 436, 448. Hon. Henry, ii. 42, 393, 413. Misses, ii. 47. Light come, light go, i. 106. Lilliard's Stone, i. 388 and _n._ Lions in Edinburgh, i. 222, 354; "Lions," ii. 210. Lister, T.H., _Granby_, i. 164. Liston, Sir Robert, ii. 204. Literary Society, ii. 171. Litigation in the Sheriff Courts, i. 46, 47. Liverpool, Lord, i. 267, 309, 361. Livingstone, Rev. Mr., ii. 220. Llandaff, Bishop of, ii. 181. Loch, Mrs., i. 247. John and James, ii. 187, 191, 258. Locker, E.H., i. 267 and _n._, 268, 283 and _n._ Lockhart, John G., i. 1, 31, 379, 381, 401; ii. 3, 34, 41, 62 _n._, 68, 79, 83, 130, 136, 157, 160, 168, 177, 179, 180, 191, 205, 215, 217, 222, 283, 302, 313, 329 and _n._, 330, 413, 419, 472; the _Quarterly Review_, i. 20-24; Blackwood's _Magazine_, 25-26; parting entertainment, 33; London, 34; Scott's confidence in and affection for, 39; _Malachi_, 142, 171; on Sir Walter's style, 181; Hook, 302 and _n._; Scott's letter, home politics, 383 _n._; Hogg, 391; account of Gillies, 402; Portobello, 411 and _n._; Abbotsford, ii. 18, 21; Kelso, 27; Garrick papers, 83 and _n._; Brighton, 181; _Life of Burns_, 195; Auchinrath, 220; Edinburgh, 221; Dalkeith, 223; Stewart papers, 229; letter from Scott regarding illness, Feb. 1820, 327; Chiefswood, 332; Hogg, 386, 387 _n._; accompanies Scott to Douglas, 410, 411. Mrs., i. 22, 23, 31-33, 48, 50; 154, 157, 196; birth of a son Walter, 182; Abbotsford, ii. 14, 99; birth of a girl, 104; Brighton, 164, 423. J. Hugh (the Hugh Littlejohn of the _Tales of a Grandfather_), i. 32, 157, 217, 274, 306; ii. 2, 165, 185, 186, 203, 302, 305, 306, 317, 329, 332; death, 457 and _n._ Walter Scott, i. 182; death, 196 and _n._; ii. 317. Charlotte, ii. 329 and _n._ Dr. and Mrs., ii. 348. Lawrence, ii. 32. Richard, i. 36, 37; death of, i. 394. William, i. 33, 272, 281; ii. 220, 233. William Elliot, i. ii. 193 _n._, 382. Logan's _Sermons and Poems_, i. 19 and _n._, 169. Londesborough, Lord, ii. 422 _n._ London, Scott's visit to, in October 1826, i. 273-283; in November 1826, 301-311; in April 1828, ii. 157-192; in September, 413; October 1831, 414. Londonderry, second Marquis of, i. 291; ii. 20; _Memoirs_, 56. Third Marquis of, ii. 42, 43, 44, 46, 56, 177, 416. Fourth Marquis of, ii. 51. Lady Emily, ii. 173. Longman & Co., _Woodstock_, i. 177; American Copyright, 307; _Napoleon_, 343, 348; ii. 3; _St. Ronan's Well_, 107, 108; _Encyclopædia_, 268; copyright of poetry, 287; agrees to sell poetry, 295; sale completed, 311. Lothian, Marquis of, ii. 43, 47, 49, 51, 132, 222. Louvre, the, i. 287. Lovaine, Lord, ii. 279. Low, Alexander, _History of Scotland_, ii. 335 and _n._ Lowndes, ii. 190. Lucy, Sir Thomas, ii. 155. Luscar, ii. 336. Lushington, Mr., ii. 472. Luttrell, Henry, i. 277. Lyndhurst, Lord, i. 267, 383. Lyons of Gattonside, ii. 255. Lyttelton, W.H., ii. 181.

M'Allister, General, ii. 8. Macaulay's _History of St. Kilda_, ii. 222 and _n._ MacBarnet, Mrs., ii. 150. M'Cormick, Dr., ii. 340. M'Crie, Dr. Thomas, on _Old Mortality_, ii. 404 _n._ Macclesfield, i. 313. Macculloch, David, of Ardwell, i. 7, 237, 342. James, ii. 284. Macdonald, L., sculptor, ii. 368, 369. Macdonald, Maréschal, i. 120 _n._, 295, 298. Macdonell of Glengarry, i. 120 and _n._, 121. Macdougal, Celtic Society, i. 98. Macduff Club, ii. 308. _See_ Blair-Adam. Macduff's Castle, i. 406. Mackay, Mr., from Ireland, ii. 125, 127, 128. Mackay, Rev. Dr. Macintosh, ii. 123 _n._, 124, 206, 232, 288, 289, 294, 406-407; Cluny Macpherson's papers, 123; Irish MS., 290 and _n._ MacKenzie, Captain, 72d Regiment, ii. 52. Mackenzie, Colin, of Portmore, i. 6 _n._, 14, 84, 88, 125, 134, 139, 148, 177, 412, 413; ii. 53, 335; character, 31; family, 217; son of, 312; new Academy, ii. 4; illness, 85; Deputy Keeper of Signet, retirement from office, 111, 234; death, 346 and _n._; lines by, 413. Hay, of Cromarty, ii. 393. Henry, i. 41; sketch of, 35; his edition of Home's _Works_, 372; death, ii. 370. Lord, i. 207 and _n._, 258; ii. 203. Sutherland, ii. 70. William, i. 406. Mrs. Stewart, ii. 202-203. Mackenzie's Hotel, Edinr., ii. 374. Mackintosh, Sir James, i. 114; ii. 160, 262, 268, 270. Maclachan, Mrs. and Miss Bell, ii. 377. M'Laurin, Colin, ii. 335. Macleod, Lord, ii. 423. Alex., advocate, ii. 129. Mrs., ii. 423. M'Nab of that Ilk, i. 368 and _n._ Macpherson, Captain, ii. 150. Cluny, papers, ii. 123, 136, 137; visit to Edinburgh Castle, 247, 257, 288. Macqueen, Robert. _See_ Braxfield. Macturk, Captain, of _St. Ronan's Well_, ii. 65. _Magnum Opus_, prospectus issued, ii. 243-244; printing of the, 273; success of, 281, 292, 293 _n._, 294; Twentieth vol. issued, 354. Mahon, Lord, ii. 173 _n._ Maida, the deer-hound and the artists, i. 77, 166; ii. 179 _n._, 456. Maitland, Frederick, capture of Bonaparte, i. 145, 149 and _nn._ Miss, ii. 300 _n._ Club, ii. 244. Makdougall, Lady Brisbane, i. 249. Malachi Malagrowther, letters, i. 126-127, 130 and _n._, 136, 139-153, 160. Malcolm, Sir John, i. 308; ii. 422, 423 and _n._ Malta, ii. 421, 441, 449. Maltby, Dr., ii. 168, 178. Manchester, i. 313; ii. 435. Duke of, ii. 183. Mandrin's _Memoirs_, i. 104 and _n._ Mansfield, i. 362. Mar, Earl of, ii. 39. Marjoribanks, Mr. and Mrs. C., ii. 191. _Marmion_, copyright of, ii. 296, 301. Marmont, Marshal, i. 299. Marshall, Mr., ii. 429. Marshman, Dr., Serampore missionary, i. 348 and _n._, 349. Martin, Davie, ii. 220. Mary Queen of Scots, portraits, i. 4; and Elizabeth, 46. Masaniello, ii. 278, 451 _n._, 488. Matheson, Peter, i. 227 and _n._ Mathews, Charles, Comedian, i. 47, 58; Abbotsford, 78, 79, 80, 81 _n._ C.J., i. 78 and _n._ Matutinal inspiration, i. 113; ii. 379. Maxwells, the, i. 210. Maxpopple. _See_ Scott of Raeburn. Maywood, Mr., i. 401. Meadowbank, Lord, ii. 265, 266, 399. Meason, Mr. _See_ Laing-Meason. Meath, Earl of, and the Duke of Wellington, ii. 72, 174. Medwyn, Lord, i. 134, 221 and _n._, 393; ii. 261 _n._, 339, 375. Meleager, story of, ii. 469. Melville, Lord and Lady (second Viscount), i. 6, 14, 16, 24, 147, 148, 205, 226, 267, 302, 307, 383; ii. 30, 64, 71, 159, 184, 187, 342; Mrs. Grant's pension, 28, 29; _Malachi_, 146 _n._; Roxburgh election, 178; colleges in Scotland, 256, 257; Bannatyne Club, 411; resignation, ii. 5, 6; reappointment, 6 _n._; fall from his horse, 69. Sir James, _Memoirs_, i. 370 and _n._, 400, 401. Menzies, John, of Pitfoddels, i. 347, 349 and _n._; ii. 168. Mertoun, i. 181, 229, 328; ii. 25, 27, 52, 54, 109. Methodists, i. 102. Meyersdorff, Baron A. von, ii. 255. Mildert, Dr. William Van, Bishop of Durham, ii. 43 and _n._ Miller, Mr., ii. 156. I Archibald, W.S., ii. 314. Miller's, General, _South American War_, ii. 303 and _n._ Mills, Scott's feeling regarding, i. 356. Milman, Dean, ii. 417. Miln, Miss, i. 253. Milne, Sir David, ii. 70. Nicol, ii. 53, 326, 461 _n._ N., jun., i. 264; ii. 146. Rev. Mr., Quebec, ii. 365, 366. Milton, miniature of, by Cooper, i. 271-272. _Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border_, i. 138 and _n._ Minto, Gilbert, first Earl of, sketch of, i. 61-63. second Earl, i. 61, 229, 238; Abbotsford, 268; 350, 351, 353, 357, 358; ii. 10, 166, 167. Dowager Lady, ii. 10. Minute Philosophers, i. 60. Mirbel, Madame, i. 293, 295, 296, 297, 298; ii. 256 _n._ Misfortune sometimes convenient, i. 171. "Misfortune's gowling bark," i. 123-124. Mitchell, Mr., Greek master, Academy, ii. 4. Moir, D.M. (Delta), lines on Leslie's picture, i. 321 _n._ Moira, Lord, i. 327. Molé, Monsieur de, i. 299. Moncreiff, James, i. 324 and _n._ Monmouth, Duke and Duchess of, at Moor Park, ii. 192. "Mons Meg," i. 43; ii. 238 and _n._, 242, 243, 244, 247, 432. Montagu, Lord and Lady, i. 106, 176, 178, 263; ii. 257, 423, 424. Lady Elizabeth (Dowager Duchess of Buccleuch), ii. 71 and _n._ Monteath's _Planter_ reviewed, ii. 25. Monteith's, Earls of, gardeners, ii. 208. Monypenny, Alexander, trustee, i. 83 _n._ David. _See_ Pitmilly. Moore, Thomas, i. 183 and _n._; ii. 184, 196; characterised, 7-9; regard for Scott, 9 _n._; anecdotes of Byron, 112, 113 _n._; breakfast with Scott, 281; ii. 34 _n._; Life of Byron, 135; visit to Hampton Court, 189; Scott sends Byron's letters, 216; 268; letter to Scott, 303, 304 _n._ "Morbus," the, i. 173-174. More, J.S., i. 206. More, Mrs. Hannah, _Memoirs_, i. 213 _n._ Morgan's, Lady, _O'Donnel_, i. 154 and _n._ Morpeth, Lord, i. 292, 297. Morritt, John B.S., of Rokeby, i. 106; Scott's visit to, 270-272 and _n._; London dinner party, ii. 162, 164; Scott's visit to, 195; Abbotsford, 215; 230; letter to Scott, 352 _n._ Morton, Earl and Countess of, ii. 132, 201. Moscheles, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 113, 114, 115. Moscow, burning of, ii. 17, 18. _Mother Goose's Tales_, ii. 459, 489-490. Mottoes, for _Woodstock_, i. 162; for _Count Robert_, ii. 374 and _n._ Mount Benger, Hogg's farm, ii. 96 _n._, 120 _n._ MSS. _Waverley Novels_, ii. 396 and _n._ Mudford's _Five Nights of St. Albans_, ii. 301 and _n._ Munro, Mr., ii. 139. Mure, Mrs., of Caldwell, anecdote, i. 82. of Auchendrane's trial, ii. 199. Murray, Andrew, i. 249. Dr., Oxford, i. 205 _n._ Lord James, i. 409. Lady Caroline, ii. 233. Sir George, ii. 206. James Wolfe (Lord Cringletie), i. 322 _n._; ii. 132. John A., i. 133, 225 and _n._, 318, 320, 353 and _n._, 369, 378; ii. 4, 80, 233, 315. Mrs. John A., ii. 115. John, publisher, i. 20-22; ii. 83, 157, 160, 171, 296, 301, 302, 448. jun., of Albemarle Street, i. 349-350. Sir Patrick, of Ochtertyre, i. 109 and _n._; ii. 229, 293, 305, 314. Peter, of Simprin, i. 135. William, Henderland, i. 225, 318, 320. W.H., Theatre Royal, i. 362 and _n._, 366, 368 _n._; ii. 293, 301. "Murder hole," ii. 142 _n._ Murthly House, ii. 344. Musgrave, Captain, ii. 66. Music, i. 38; ii. 15. _My Aunt Margaret's Mirror_, ii. 76, 81 _n._, 158, 166. "My spinning-wheel is auld and stiff," i. 10.

_Naboclish_, i. 223 and _n._ Nairne, Mr., ii. 245. Napier, Colonel, ii. 196. Lord, ii. 360. Macvey, ii. 292 _n._ Naples, ii. 448, 464, 470, 472, 475, 478. _Napoleon, Life of_, i. 98; finished 3d vol., i. 209, 238; vol. v. commenced, 240; swells to 7 vols., 252; 264; Longman's offer, 267; vol. vi. finished, 334; vol. viii. proposed, 343; Longman's agreement, 348; proceeds, 349; Appendix to, 396; completion June 7, 400, 407; ii. 9; Brussels reprint, 21; preparation for a new edition, 108, 109, 110, 287. Maria Louise: Lord Elgin's anecdotes, i. 151; Dr. Shortt, 357; ii. 45; on the triple alliance, 49. Napoleon's last moments, i. 139. Nares, Archdeacon, ii. 171. Nasmyth, Mr., dentist, i. 255. Navarino, battle of, ii. 66. "Nell Gwynne's portrait," ii. 121. Nelson, an amanuensis, i. 148-149; ii. 160. Neukomm, Mr., ii. 315. Newark Castle, ii. 95. Newbery, Mr., ii. 106. Newenhams, i. 42. Newton, Lord, decision, ii. 13, 33, 38, 56, 77. Gilbert S., R.A., i. 119, 278. New Year reflections, i. 73, 333; ii. 98, 103, 215, 363. Nicoll, Dr., Principal of St. Andrews, i. 261. Nicolson, John, ii. 61 and _n._ Miss, ii. 179. Nimrod, a deerhound, i. 371 and _n._; ii. 273 and _n._ Nocera, two towns of, ii. 470-471. North, Lord, ii. 175. Northampton's, Lady, death, ii. 333, 452. Northcote, James, R.A., ii. 174, 177 and _n._, 178. Northumberland, Duke and Duchess of, ii. 46 and _n._, 47 and _n._, 48, 173, 174, 419. Nuncomar, Rajah, ii. 180.

O'Callaghan, Hon. Sir Robert, i. 27; ii. 86. Oil Gas Company, i. 5 and _n._, 41, 42, 356, 395, 402, 406; ii. 67, 70, 84, 201. _Old Mortality_, ii. 404 _n._ Oliphant, Mrs., ii. 72. Olonyne, Count, i. 15. Oran, ii. 437. Ormiston, Bell, ii. 150. Ormsby, Mrs., ii. 154. Osborne, Lord Sydney, ii. 308. Mr. and Mrs., ii. 427. Owen, Mrs., i. 307. Oxenfoord Castle, i. 395; ii. 212. Oxford, i. 311.

Paestum, ii. 463. Paley, Mr., ii. 27. Palgrave, Sir Francis, i. 282 and _n._, 350. Palliser, Sir Hugh, ii. 236. Palmerston, Lord, ii. 30, 393. Pantellaria, ii. 441. Papers mislaid, i. 34. Paris 1826, i. 285-299. Parker, Miss, ii. 191. Parkgate, i. 243, 245, 246. Parr, Dr., i. 270. Parry, Captain, ii. 160. Pasta, Madame, ii. 67. Paterson, Dr. N., ii. 397 and _n._ R. (_Old Mortality_), ii. 397 _n._ Walter, ii. 397 _n._ "Patience, cousin, and shuffle the cards," i. 43. Patterson, David, ii. 263. John Brown, ii. 63 _n._ _Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk_, i. 301 and _n._; ii. 86. "Pearling Jean," i. 374 _n._ Peel, Right Hon. Sir Robert, i. 306, 307, 309, 310, 383; ii. 6, 184, 206, 246, 328, 414; Chantrey's bust of Scott, 182 _n._ Penrith, i. 314; ii. 151. Pentland Hills, admiration of, ii. 64, 65. Pepys' Diary, review of, in _Quarterly_, i. 65 and _n._, 76, 82, 179 and _n._ Perceval, Mr., i. 327-329. Percy, Captain, ii. 279. Percy's, William, _plays_, ii. 40. "Percy's Cross," cottages at, ii. 50. "---- Leap," ii. 50. Pescara, Marquis di, tomb of, ii. 472. Peterborough, life of, ii. 269 and _n._ Petrie, H., i. 350. Pettigrew, Dr., ii. 168. Pettycur, i. 406. Philips, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 4, 22. Sir George, ii. 162, 179. Phillips, Sir Richard, i. 353. Phillpotts, Dr., Dean of Chester, ii. 162 and _n._ Phipps, Mrs., ii. 175-176. Pickering, W., ii. 182, 188. Pigot, Captain, ii. 423, 425, 427, 428, 429, 437, 444. Pinkie House, ii. 118. Piozzi, Mrs., ii. 226, 370 _n._ Piper, Mr., mail contractor, ii. 328. Pirates' heaven, i. 97. Pitcairn, Robert, ii. 274 and _n._ Pitmilly, Lord, i. 125 _n_., 387; ii. 314. Pitsligo, Lord, ii. 266. Pitt, Mr., ii. 161. William, letters of, ii. 188, 189. Planta, Joseph, ii. 16 and _n._ Plantations at Abbotsford, i. 170, 180, 187. Platoff, i. 292. Playfair, John, burial-place, i. 94, 108 _n._ Plays, Old, _Hector of Germany_, etc., i. 234. _Pleydell, Paul_, ii. 281 _n._, 337 and _n._ Plunkett, Lord, i. 18 _n._ Plymouth, ii. 429. Pole, Mr. Frederick, i. 89 and _n._ Politics, interest in, i. 126. Pompeii, ii. 462, 463, 470. Ponsonby, Mr., and Lady Sarah, ii. 50, 179, 184. Hon. Miss, ii. 152 _n._ Pontey, William, ii. 396. Pontine Marshes, ii. 479. Porchester's, Lord, _Poems_, i. 13 and _n._ "Portuous Roll," i. 178 _n._ Portland, Bill of, ii. 429. Portsmouth, ii. 424, 426. Potocki, Le Comte Ladislaus de, ii. 349. Potocki's _Manuscrit trouvé à Saragosse_, ii. 32. Powis, Earl, ii. 170 _n._ Preston, Sir Robert, ii. 337 and _n._ Prestonpans, visit to, ii. 340-341. Primrose, Lady, ii. 158. Princes Street Gardens, Edinburgh, i. 395; ii. 211. Pringle, John, Rector of Fogo, ii. 145. Alexander, of Whytbank, i. 389; ii. 368, 381, 383, 402. Alexander, junior, of Whytbank, i. 45, 253, 267. James, Torwoodlee, i. 183 and _n._, 340; ii. 149, 381, 382. George, of Torwoodlee, ii. 147-149. Sir John, ii. 109, 122, 358. John, of Clifton, i. 266, 337. junior, of Haining, death, ii. 404. Mrs., Haining, ii. 272. Thomas, i. 282 and _n._ Captain, _Battle of Waterloo_, i. 373; ii. 230. Major, ii. 358, 360. Pringles of Stitchel, ii. 363. of Yair, i. 373; ii. 23. Prisons, ii. 126-127. Procter, Bryan Waller, i. 221 _n._ Proudfoot, Oliver, ii. 129. Prudhoe, Lord, ii. 419. Psalmody, Scottish, i. 411-412 and _n._; ii. 291 and _n._ Purgstall, Countess, i. 237. Purdie, Tom, i. 82; "S.W.S.," 112 _n._, 156, 166, 187, 238, 256, 370, 372, 374, 383; ii. 1, 13, 18, 22, 23, 95, 136, 257, 318; death of, 320.

Queensberry, William Douglas, fourth Duke of ("Old Q."), i. 243, 18 _n_. [Transcriber's note: This appears to be an error in the original text.] Duchess of, Catherine Hyde, i. 245 _n._ Quillinan, Mrs., ii. 179.

Rae, Sir William, i. 14 and _n._, 84, 355; ii. 30 _n._, 64, 229, 314, 328. Lady, i. 204. Raeburn, Sir Henry, his portrait of Scott given to Mr. Skene, i. 136 _n._; portrait of Scott, for Lord Montagu, 212 _n._; portrait for Constable at Dalkeith, 322, 337; portrait now at Abbotsford, ii. 368 _n._ Lady, i. 229. Raine's _St. Cuthbert_, ii. 7 _n._ Rammohun Roy, ii. 423 and _n._ Ramsay, Allan, and the Edgewell tree, ii. 282 and _n._ Dean, i. 196 and _n._, 197 _n._ Lord. _See_ Dalhousie. Wardlaw, ii. 224, 228. of Barnton, ii. 241. Ravensworth, Lord, ii. 42. Castle, ii. 41-47. _Redding up_, i. 183, 392, 414; ii. 280. _Redgauntlet_, ii. 378. Rees, Owen, i. 277; ii. 14, 15, 293, 295, 296. Reform Bill, ii. 381-382, 387, 388, 394, 414-417. Remside Moor, ii. 49. Rémusat, Charles de, i. 407 and _n._ Count Paul de, i. 407 _n._ Rennie, Sir John, i. 347 _n._ Renton, Mr., ii. 181. Resignation of office as Clerk of Session, ii. 355. Reynolds, Sir Joshua, i. 272 and _n._; ii. 177; Earl of Rothes' Portrait, 232, 251. Mr. (_The Keepsake_), ii. 125, 133, 142, 162, 166, 181, 266, 270, 279. Rice, Mr. Spring (afterwards Lord Monteagle), ii. 184. Richardson, John, visit to Abbotsford and fishing adventure, ii. 28 and _n._, 66, 265 _n._; letter from, to Scott, 273 _n._; Claverhouse, 404. Riddell, Colonel, ii. 266. Thomas, i. 180. Riddoch, Mr., of Falkirk, i. 152. Rigby, Miss. _See_ John A. Murray. Robbins, Mr., ii. 152. Robertson, Patrick, i. 259 and _n._ Robinson (of H. & R.), ii. 61, 65. Robison, Mr. (afterwards Sir John), ii. 217. _Rob Roy_ at the Theatre Royal, ii. 138. Robson's _Essay on Heraldry_, ii. 381. Roche, Sir Boyle, dream of, i. 223 _n._ Rodger, Mr. Peter, ii. 358 _n._ Rogers, Samuel, i. 277, 308; ii. 158, 159, 161, 423; advice to Moore, i. 8 _n._; breakfast, 281, 304, 307; Holland House, ii. 183; Hampton Court, 189, 190. Rokeby, i. 270; ii. 195. Rolland, Adam, Clerk of Session, ii. 281, 283, 336. Adam, of Gask, ii. 281 _n._; ii. 337 and _n._ Rollo, Lord, i. 141. Rome, ii. 475, 478. Rose, Sir George, i. 401; ii. 132. William Stewart, anecdote of Byron, i. 11, 12, 26; his _Ariosto_, 277 and _n._; at Stratford, ii. 153; Brighton, 185; David Hinves, 186 _n._ Ross, Dr. A., i. 343; ii. 219, 236, 294, 356. Rossiter, N.T., ii. 402. Rothes, Lady, ii. 300 _n._ Roxburghe Club, ii. 39, 40, 170, 181. Royal Academy, London, ii. 171. Literary Society, i. 390-391; ii. 449 and _n._ Society, Edinburgh, dinner, i. 34-35, 318, 354; ii. 77, 217, 219; new rooms, 233, 235, 242. Ruling passion, i. 216-217. Russel, Alexander, anecdote told by, i. 344 _n._ Russell, Claud, i. 14. Dr. James, i. 35 and _n._; ii. 77, 135. Lord John, on Moore, i. 8 _n._; ii. 161. John, i. 345 _n._; ii. 123. Major-General Sir James, of Ashestiel, i. 29 _n._, 30, 45, 74, 76, 164, 230, 321, 381, 390, 391; ii. 21, 146, 258, 363, 368, 381, 399. Lord Wriothesley, ii. 76. Misses, i. 73, 97; ii. 35. Rutherfurd, John, of Edgerstoun, ii. 120. Rutherford, Rev. John, of Yarrow, ii. 145. Dr., ii. 269. Lord, in the _Bride of Lammermoor_, ii. 300 _n._ Captain Robert, i. 147. Robert, i. 29, 320; ii. 35. William, ii. 32. Miss C., i. 90. Ruthven, Lord and Lady, i. 61; ii. 390-391 _n._ Rutty, J., diary, i. 68.

St. Agatha, ii. 478. St. Andrews, visit to, in 1827, i. 403. St. Boswell's Fair, i. 229. St. Cuthbert's remains at Durham, ii. 7. St. Giles, Edinburgh, ii. 77 _n._ St. Mary's Loch, i. 243. St. Monans, i. 405. St. Paul's, Dean of, ii. 162. _St. Ronan's Well_, Scott's opinion of, i. 231; Macturk in, ii. 65, 69; new edition required, 107; dramatised, 301. Saint Roque, ii. 434. Saint Thomas Aquinas, tomb of, ii. 472. Saladin's shroud, ii. 71 _n._ Salerno, ii. 466. Samothracian Mysteries, ii. 164. Sanctuary, the, ii. 58 and _n._, 60. Sanders, George L., miniature of M.G. Lewis, i. 7 and _n._ San Domenico Maggiore, ii. 472. Sandford, Mrs. Professor, ii. 222. _Sans Cullotides_, April mornings, i. 184, 185. Savary, H., i. 59 and _n._ Scarlett, Sir James Y., i. 57. Schutze, Mr., ii. 315-316. Schwab, Gustavus, i. 412. Schwartzenberg, i. 292. Scott, Lady, i. 47, 130; removal from Castle Street, 143, 152; illness, 159, 161, 166, 178-191; death, 193; ii. 150. Miss Anne, Scottish songs, i. 38, 39; characterised, 55; retrospect, 56-57, 116, 194, 195, 197; ii. 67, 118, 146; London, 151, 198 _n._; Milburn Tower, 204; Hopetoun House, 242; castle, 248, 257; Blair-Adam, 336, 365, 475. Walter, i. 144, 183, 197-99; ii. 65-67, 99, 105, 132, 157, 216, 401, 418, 426; choice of a soldier's life, i. 37; 15th Hussars going to India, 73; generous offer from, 101; lines on Irish quarters, 232; revisits Abbotsford, 240, 242; at Blair-Adam, 246, 249; Ireland, 250, 315; Dalkeith, 321, 322, 325; Christmas at Abbotsford, 329, 335; dinner and guests at Hampton Court, 163; inflammatory attack, 283, 284, 286, 292, 302; wishes to preserve the library, 365. Charles, choice of profession, i. 179; arrives at Abbotsford, 196, 201, 202, 228; Drumlanrig, 242; Ireland, 250; return, 260, 266; Scott's visit to Oxford, 311, 369; ii. 74, 76, 81, 92, 99; Foreign Office, 122, 157, 168, 216; Edinburgh, 305, 312, 364, 475. Thomas and Mrs., i. 7 _n._, 180, 312; ii. 183 _n._ Anne, niece of Sir Walter, i. 188, 227, 237. Walter, nephew, i. 103, 116, 264; ii. 334 and _n._ Sir W., of Ancrum, ii. 408, 423. of Beirlaw, ii. 257. of Gala, i. 59, 252, 253; ii. 118, 122, 141, 152, 232, 289, 326, 329, 332 of Harden, i. 105, 163, 168, 176-179, 181, 188, 205, 214, 238, 259, 337, 358, 390; ii. 11, 20, 23, 28, 29 and _n._, 52, 54, 72, 85, 104, 171, 179, 200, 201, 204, 334, 359, 360, 363, 365, 366, 371, 382, 387, 408. John, Midgehope, ii. 17. Charles, of Nesbit Mill, i. 259; ii. 265. of Raeburn (Maxpopple), i. 159 and _n._, 187, 238, 255, 269, 388, 389; ii. 25, 59 _n._, 81, 274 and _n._, 275, 279, 281, 314, 325, 326, 349, 395. of Scalloway, ii. 291. of Woll, ii. 326, 332, 397 and _n._ Charles, grandson of Charles of Woll, ii. 17. Dr., of Haslar Hospital, ii. 291. James, ii. 281. Keith, ii. 280 James, a young painter, i. 308. Scottish Nationality, i. 153. Scottish Songs _v._ Foreign music, i. 38. Scrope, William, i. 75, 78, 111, 121, 174, 328, 336, 338, 377, 378, 390; ii. 7, 9, 13, 121, 146. Seafield, Lord Chancellor, i. 208 _n._ Seaford. _See_ Ellis. Seaforth, Lady, funeral, ii. 244. Search for sealing-wax, i. 184. Selkirk, fifth Earl of, ii. 161 _n._, 260, 314. Lady, ii. 161. Club, i. 254. election, ii. 365, 408. Sheriff-court processes, i. 47. Selkirkshire Yeomanry Club dinner, ii. 144. Seton, Sir Reginald Steuart, of Staffa, ii. 130 _n._ Seymour, Sir Michael, ii. 428, 429. Shakespeare's house, ii. 155. Shandwick Place, No. 6, takes possession Nov. 6, 1827, ii. 61. Shap Fells, drive over the, i. 314. Sharp, Sir Cuthbert, ii. 149. Richard, i. 247, 277, 283; ii. 158, 161. Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick, sketched, i. 2-4, 121, 122, 221; alterations in Edinburgh, 336, 412; ii. 76, 160, 201, 204, 232; restoration of "Mons Meg," 248, 339, 422 _n._ Shaw, Dr., i. 217, 280. Christian, ii. 145. of Sauchie, ii. 145. _Shaws, murder of_, ii. 40. Shelley, Lady, ii. 65, 182, 187. Sir John, ii. 179. Percy B., i. 11-12. Mrs., _Frankenstein_, i. 174 _n._ Shepherd, Sir Samuel, Lord Chief Baron, i. 51 and _n._; sketch of 57-58, 192, 207; Blair-Adam, 215, 217, 358, 395; Charlton, 403; ii. 73, 78, 95, 98; at Colvin Smith's, 116, 118, 166; Blair-Adam, 207, 209, 212, 305, 336. Sheridan, Rich. B., dull in society, i. 80; price of Drury Lane Theatre, 81; review of _Life_, 173; and Sharp, ii. 158. Tom, ii. 259. Sheriffmuir trumpeter, i. 185. Shortreed, Robert, i. 178, 257, 387; ii. 279, 316 and _n._ (junior), ii. 52, 306. Andrew, i. 388, 390; ii. 188, 191. Pringle, i. 93. Thos., i. 257 _n._, 258. Shortt, Dr., i. 355, 357, 364 Siddons, Mrs. H., as Belvidera, ii. 120, 293, 301. Sidmouth, Lord, ii. 188, 416. Sievwright, Sir John, ii. 173. Silver fir, rapid growth, i. 239. Simond's _Switzerland_, ii. 212. Simson, William, R.S.A., i. 377. Sinclair, Sir John, i. 85. Lady, i. 85; ii. 141. Misses, ii. 36. Master of, ii. 40, 146. Robert, ii. 138. Singleton, Archdeacon, ii. 49 and _n._ Six-foot-high Club, ii. 244. Skelton, Mr., ii. 310. Skene, James and Mrs., i. 31, 42; the Boswells, 59 _n._; sketch of, 75; recollections of Mathews, 80 _n._; recollections of financial crisis, 82-84 _n._; a walk in Princes Street Gardens, 91 _n._, 94, 95 _n._, 118; proposal that Scott should live with him, 129, 154; letter from Scott on Lady Scott's death, 197-198 _n._; the whaling captain, 210 _n._, 319, 325, 335, 350, 355, 393; note from Scott, 394 _n._, 395, 397, 403, 407, 412; at Abbotsford, ii. 19, 53; Lady Jane Stuart, 62 _n._; at Abbotsford, 97 _n._, 191; Princes Street Gardens, 212; Abbotsford, 215, 223, 230, 232; journal, 238, 244, 260; Abbotsford, 262, 263, 266, 288, 291; the good Samaritan, 298, 305; sketches for Waverley, 306 and _n._, 339, 345; Raeburn's portrait of Scott, 368 _n._, 374 _n._, 375, 399; death, 456 and _n._ Professor George, ii. 299 _n._ W.F., ii. 399 and _n._ Skirving, Arch., artist, i. 138 and _n._ Smith, Colvin, ii. 115, 118 and _n._, 121, 129, 132, 201, 222, 284, 334. Mrs. Charlotte, _Desmond_, i. 156 and _n._, 342; ii. 185. Horace, _Brambletye House_, i. 273, 275; ii. 119, 427. John, builder, ii. 368, 397 and _n._ Sydney, i. 362, 364, 369; ii. 130, 179. Mr., Foreign Office, i. 278. Mrs., case of poisoning, i. 355, 361. Smoking, i. 11. Smollett, Captain, i. 27. Smythe of Methven, i. 223. Solitude, love of, _v._ Confinement, i. 163, 168, 177. Somerset, Lord Fitzroy, ii. 169. Somerset House, ii. 173. Somerville Lord, _Life_ of, i. 356. Dr. Thos., i. 258, 259 and _n._ Sotheby, i. 283; ii. 157, 158, 164. Southey, Robert, the _Quarterly_, i. 21, 25, 26, 38, 214; _Peninsular War_, 277; ii. 168 _n._, 190, 231 _n._; _Pilgrims Progress_, 344, 350. Soutra, Johnstones of, i. 210. Souza-Botelho, Madame de, i. 290-291 and _n._ Spectral appearances and illusions, i. 47. Spencer, Lord, ii. 170, 181. Hon. W.R., i. 292, 295, 393 _n._ Spice, a terrier, ii. 9-10, 388. Stafford, Lord and Lady, i. 47, 304, 406; ii. 167, 180, 182, 187, 423. Stainmore, i. 271. Stanhope, Spencer, i. 267. Stanhope's _Notes_, ii. 49 _n._ Steuart-Denham, Sir James, of Coltness, i. 114 and _n._ Sir Henry Seton, ii. 40, 90, 221. Stevenson, John, i. 148, 413; ii. 24. Patrick James, ii. 206 _n._ Stewart, Sir Charles and Lady Elizabeth, i. 281. Dugald, ii. 74 _n._, death of, 201. J.A., ii. 203 _n._ Sir J., of Murthly, ii. 344. James, of Brugh, i. 20. Sir M. Shaw, i. 319. General David, of Garth, death of, ii. 17 and _n._ Thomas, i. 389. of Dalguise, ii. 104, 105. younger of Invernahyle, ii. 234. Mrs., of Blackhill, i. 168. Stirling, General Graham, i. 98. Stirlings of Drumpellier, ii. 9, 304. Stoddart, Dr., ii. 113. Mr., ii. 421. Stokoe, Dr., i. 325. Stopford, Lady Charlotte, i. 244 and _n._; ii. 120. Stowell, Lord (Sir William Scott), ii. 188 and _n._, 430. Strange, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 342, 344. Strangford, Lord, ii. 196. Stratford-on-Avon, mulberry tree from, ii. 50 and _n._, 154. "Strict retreat," i. 111. Stuart, General, of Blantyre, ii. 4. Charles, Blantyre, i. 225; ii. 4. Hon. Mr., i. 98. Mr., grand-nephew of Lady Louisa, ii. 226, 255. Sir John, of Fettercairn, i. 404 _n._; ii. 321 _n._ Sir John, ii. 480. James, of Dunearn, i. 58 _n._; ii. 224; sale of pictures, 232. Sir James, Allanbank, i. 412; ii. 215, 224, 225, 229, 232. Lady Jane, letter to Scott, ii. 55 and _n._; an affecting meeting, 62 and _n._; old stories, 64, 80, 217; illness, 240, 301 and _n._; death of, 321. Lady Louisa, i. 107 and _n._, 204, 311, 255; ii. 416, 418, 423, 473, 475. "Stulko," ii. 389 and _n._ Style, solecisms in, i. 181. Sunderland, ii. 46. Hall, ii. 23. Surtees, Mr. i. 240, 242, 250, 260, 266, 311, 312; ii. 149. Sussex, Duke of, ii. 168. Sutherland, Mr., Aberdeen, ii. 278. Sutton, Right Hon. Charles Manners, i. 305 and _n._ Swanston, John, i. 160, 238; ii. 23, 364, 367. Swift's handwriting, ii. 39. Swinton, Archibald, i. 250; dinner and guests, 322; ii. 18, 71, 132, 138, 142. Mr. and Mrs. George, i. 76, 394; ii. 18, 113, 231, 392. John, i. 205-206, 224, 403; ii. 4. Harriet, ii. 347. Mrs. Peggie, i. 29; ii. 18. S.W.S., i. 112 _n._

"Tace is Latin for a candle," i. 375 and _n._ Tait, Archbishop, ii. 4 _n._ Craufurd, ii. 4. Talbot, Miss, ii. 472. _Tale of Mysterious Mirror_, ii. 158. _Tales of Crusaders_, ii. 379. _Tales of a Grandfather_ first thought of, i. 396; arranged with Cadell, 398; 413; progress of, ii. 8, 38; first volume finished, 14; last proof corrected, 68; request to revise, 96; new edition, 147; second series begun, 159, 268; third series in hand, 269; France, 359 Talleyrand, i. 282; ii. 424 _n._ Tamworth, ii. 152. Tangiers, ii. 432. _Tanneguy du Châtel_, i. 209. Tarentum, Bishop of, ii. 455. Taschereau's _Life of Molière_, ii. 104, 110. Taylor, Sir Herbert, ii. 393. Jemmy, ii. 292. Watson, ii. 173. "Teind Wednesday," i. 37 _n._ Temple, Sir William, ii. 192, 352 _n._ Terracina, ii. 480. Terry, Daniel, i. 192, 223; visit to Abbotsford, 230; 234, 251, 278, 280, 352; ruin, ii. 159, 160, 191; illness, 305; death, 316 and _n._ _The Great Twalmley_, i. 8. _Theatre of God's Judgments_, ii. 79 _n._ Royal, meeting of trustees for, ii. 292. Theatrical Fund Dinner, i. 362 and _n._, 363, 364. "The grave the last sleep?" i. 393. Theobald, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 147, 148. Thomas, Captain, ii. 307 and _n._ Thomson, David, on Moore, i. 46. David, W.S., ii. 28. Rev. George, tutor at Abbotsford, i. 67 and _n._, 328, 336; ii. 350 _n._, 359. Mr., Mrs., and Miss Anstruther, of Charlton, i. 376, 403; ii. 95, 98, 207, 209. Rev. John, of Duddingston, i. 111, 223, 379; ii. 121, 133, 207, 209, 336, 409. Thomas, Deputy Clerk-Register, i. 61, 133 and _n._, 140, 205, 223 and _n._, 225, 357, 369, 400, 403, 407; ii. 4, 10, 13, 72, 124, 239, 374 _n._ Thomson's _Tales of an Antiquary_, ii. 148. Thornhill, Mr., ii. 50. Colonel, i. 265; hawks, 266. Sir James, ii. 192. Thrale, Mrs., i. 309; ii. 190 and _n._ Thurtell & Co. at Gill's Hill, i. 228 _n._; ii. 194 and _n._ Ticknor, George, of Boston, i. 77 _n._; ii. 34 _n._, 342 _n._ Tighe, Usher, ii. 228. "_Tiled_ haddock," ii. 341 and _n._, 345. "Time must salve the sore," i. 100. Tod's, Colonel, _Travels in Western India_, ii. 239 _n._ Tod, Miss, i. 267. Todd, Miss, ii. 18. Todd, Thomas, i. 260 and _n._ "Tom Tack," i. 382. Tone, Wolfe, ii. 17. Torre del Carmine, ii. 451. Torphichen, Lady, ii. 138. "Touch my honour, touch my life," i. 153 and _n._ Townshend, Lord Charles, ii. 152. Trafalgar, ii. 433. Train, Joseph, ii. 270. Tranent, riots at, ii. 435. Travelling expenses, 1790, contrasted with 1826, i. 314. Treuttel & Wurtz, ii. 104, 143. Tripp, Baron, ii. 45. Trotter, Coal Gas Co., ii. 139. Sir Coutts, ii. 172. Tuilleries, i. 296. Tunis, ii. 440. Turner, Rev. Mr., and Lord Castlereagh's _Memoirs_, ii. 56. Dr., ii. 369. Messrs., Malta, ii. 475. Turner's, J.W., illustration to _Poetical Works_, ii. 395, 399. Tweeddale, Marquis of, ii. 80, 236. Tytler, Alexander Fraser, i. 236 _n._ Mrs., of Woodhouselee, i. 236, 238. Patrick Fraser, i. 354 and _n._; ii. 264; his _History of Scotland_, ii. 250, 264, 267.

Union Scottish Assurance Co., meeting of, ii. 69, 70. University Commission, i. 256, 257, 326 and _n._; ii. 63 _n._ Upcott, William, i. 248. _Uprouse ye then, my merry, merry men_, ii. 226. Utterson, ii. 168.

Vandenhoff, Mr., as _Jaffier_, ii. 120. Van Mildert, Bishop of Durham, ii. 43 and _n._ Vasa, Prince Gustavus, i. 385, 386 _n._ Veitch, James, ii. 266. Velletri, ii. 480. _Venice Preserved_, ii. 120. Ventriloquism, i. 79. Vere, Hope, of Craigiehall, ii. 80, 236. Lady Elizabeth Hope, ii. 80, 236. Verplanck, Mr., i. 400. Vesci, De, ii. 48. Vesuvius, ii. 426, 450. Vicaría, the, ii. 462. Victoria, Princess, ii. 184. Vienna, congress of, ii. 49. _Views of Gentlemen's Seats_, ii. 104. Vilhena, don Manuel, Fort of, ii. 443 and _n._, 444. Volturno, ii. 479.

Waldie, Mr., of Henderland, i. 253. Walker, Mr., engraver of Raeburn's portrait of Scott, i. 212 and _n._, 398. teacher of drawing, i. 137, 138 and _n._ H., ii. 33. of Muirhouselaw, i. 388 and _n._ Lieut. (afterwards Sir Baldwin), ii. 439 and _n._ Sir Patrick, ii. 244. Miss A., ii. 33. Helen, tombstone at Irongray, ii. 403 and _n._ Walker Street, No. 3, Edinburgh, i. 315 _n._ (from Nov. 1826 to June 1827). _Wall_ in "Pyramus and Thisbe," i. 18. Wallace's sword, i. 43. Walpole, Horace, _Historic Doubts_, i. 366; ii. 104. Walton and Cotton's _Angler_, ii. 188 _n._ Ward, R. Plumer, i. 384 _n._; ii. 2 _n._ Mr., (Dover), i. 300. Warkworth, ii. 48, 49. Warroch, Mr., ii. 340. Warwick, Lord and Lady, ii. 154. Castle, ii. 153. Water-cow, in the Highlands, superstition, ii. 71, 72 and _n._ Watson, Capt., ii. 298 _n._, 398. Wauchope, Mr., ii. 70. Waverley novels, plans for buying copyright, ii. 67, 85, 86, 89, 295; continued demand for, 107-8 _n._ Weare's murder, i. 228 _n._; ii. 193-4. Weatherby, i. 271. Weber, Baron, i. 190. Henry, amanuensis, i. 149, 339; ii. 160. Wedderburn, Sir David, ii. 72. Lady, (_née_ Brown) i. 409; ii. 35, 72. Weir, Major, i. 346, 347 _n._ Wellesley, Marquis, ii. 91. Wellington, Duke of, i. 267, 302, 305, 362, 367, 379, 383, 411; ii. 92 _n._, 99, 104, 110, 167, 172, 179, 181, 182, 220, 229, 262 _n._, 289, 414; i. dinners and guests, 306 _seq._; Scott's interviews with, in London, 310, 348; Scott's letter to, 359-360 _n._; Canning, ii. 6, 21; Ravensworth Castle, 41 and _n._, 42; Baron Tripp, 45; and Earl of Meath, 72; Lord Mahon, 173 _n._; Catholic Bill, 230 and _n._ Wemyss, Captain, i. 406. Westphalia, King of, ii. 479 and _n._ Whistlecraft, ii. 449. White, Lydia, i. 283, 305; death, 351-352 and _n._; ii. 210, 423. Whitmore, Lady Lucy, i. 262. Whittingham, ii. 42, 47, 49. Whyte, Miss, ii. 465, 467. Widow-burning in India, i. 30. Widow ladies' requests, i. 163. Wilberforce, ii. 163. Wilkie, Sir David, picture of king's arrival at Holyrood, i. 77; at Somerset House, 119; ii. 223; portrait for _Magnum_, 241; and letter from, to Scott, 241 _n._ Williams, Archdeacon, i. 413, 414; ii. 4, 27, 123, 131, 205, 208, 212, 373. H.W. ("Grecian"), i. 138 and _n._, 377. Williamson, W. of Cardrona, i. 131 _n._ Wilson, Adam, i. 325; ii. 307. Professor John, letter from Lockhart, i. 26 _n._; ii. 34 and _n._, 78, 130. Mr., of Wilsontown, i. 225, 283. Sir Robert, ii. 20. R. Sym, i. 50. Harriet, _Memoirs_, remarks on, i. 41-42. Wilton nuns, "go spin you jades," i. 110, 157, 372. Winchelsea, Lord, and Wellington, ii. 258 _n._ Windsor Castle, i. 279. Wisharts', _Montrose_, ii. 110 _n._ "Wishing-cap," power of, i. 66. Witchcraft, Joanna Baillie, ii. 10. Withers, Pope's epitaph, i. 125. W., ii. 187. Wolcot, Dr., i. 341. Wood, Sir Alexander, ii. 136. John Philip, ii. 341 and _n._ _Woodstock_, in progress, i. 10, 68, 74, 100, 114; 2d vol. ended, 117, 123, 127, 131, 146, 158; finished, 162, 165; Longman buys, 182; copyright, 202; price of, 407 _n._; annotated, ii. 359. Wooler, ii. 42, 49, 50. Worcester, i. 313. Worcester, Marquis of, ii. 169. Wordsworth, William, i. 268, 333; anecdote of, 334; lines on Hogg, ii. 34 _n._; 179, 181, 184, 189, 190; at Abbotsford, 411, 413 and _n._, 414 and _n._ Miss, ii. 413, 414 and _n._ Bishop, ii. 413 and _n._ Wrangham, Archdeacon, ii. 186. Wright, Sir John, ii. 25. Rev. Thomas, of Borthwick, ii. 92 and _n._ W., Lincoln's Inn, i. 26, 308 and _n._, 311. Wyatville, Mr., i. 279. Wynn, Charles, ii. 184.

Yarrow, excursion in August 1826, i. 242; in December 1827, ii. 95; in May 1829, 279; in July 1829, 320; in September 1831, 413. Yates, Dr., i. 280; ii. 185. Yelin, Chevalier, i. 90, 94. Yermoloff, General, ii. 17-18. Yester, pictures at, ii. 80. York, Duke of, i. 302, 308, 310; death, 337; funeral, 343. York, Cardinal Duke of, ii. 313. Young, Alexander, of Harburn, i. 148 and _n._ Charles Mayne as "Pierre," ii. 120, 122 and _n._ Dr., and Miss, Hawick, ii. 160, 347, 355.

Zetland, ii. 291.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Journal of Sir Walter Scott, by Walter Scott