Walter Scott - The Man Behind the Books. Walter Scott
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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, 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 of Galashiels made a most excellent prayer; Mr. Smith 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 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 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.
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 16th April to Sunday 24th 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.”
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.
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;” 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