Walter Scott - The Man Behind the Books. Walter Scott
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play and begins work. Dr. Brewster and Mr. Thornhill. The latter gave me a box, made of the real mulberry-tree. Very kind of him.
October 11. — Being a base melancholy weeping day I e’en made the best of it, and set in for work. Wrote ten leaves this day, equivalent to forty pages. But then the theme was so familiar, being Scottish history, that my pen never rested. It is more than a triple task.
October 12. — Sent off proofs and copy, a full task of three pages. At one Anne drove me to Huntly Burn, and I examined the earthen fence intended for the new planting, and altered the line in some points. This employed me till near four, the time of my walking home being included.
October 13. — Wrote in the forenoon. Lord Bessborough and Mr. and Mrs. Ponsonby called to see the place. His lady used to be civil to me in London — an accomplished and pleasing woman. They only stayed an hour. At dinner we had Lord and Lady Bathurst, and my friend Lady Georgiana — also Marquis of Lothian and Lord Castlereagh, plenty of fine folks. Expected also the Lord Register and Mrs. Dundas, but they could not come. Lord Bathurst told me that Gourgaud had negotiated with the French Government to the last moment of his leaving London, and that he had been told so by the French Ambassador. Lord B. refused to see him, because he understood he talked disrespectfully of Napoleon.
October 14. — I read prayers to the company of yesterday, and we took a drive round by Drygrange Bridge. Lord B. told me that the late king made it at one time a point of conscience to read every word of every act of parliament before giving his assent to it. There was a mixture of principle and nonsense in this. Lord Lothian left us. I did a full task to-day, which is much, considering I was a good deal occupied.
October 15. — My noble guests departed, pleased I believe with their visit. I have had to thank Lord Bathurst for former kindness. I respect him too, as one who being far from rich, has on the late occasion preferred political consistency to a love of office and its emoluments. He seems to expect no opposition of a formal kind this next session. What is wonderful, no young man of talents seems to spring up in the House of Commons. I wonder what comes of all the clever lads whom we see at college. The fruit apparently does not ripen as formerly. Lord Castlereagh remained with us. I bestowed a little advice on him. He is a warm-hearted young fellow, with some of the fashionable affectations of the age about him, but with good feelings and an inclination to come forward.
October 16. — With all this racketing the work advances fast. The third volume of the Tales is now half finished, and will, I think, be a useful work. Some drizzling days have been of great use to its progress. This visiting has made some dawdling, but not much, perhaps not more than there ought to be for such a task.
I walked from Huntly Burn up the little Glen, which was in all the melancholy beauty of autumn, the little brook brawling and bickering in fine style over its falls and currents.
October 17. — Drove down to Mertoun and brought up Elizabeth Scott to be our guest for some days or so. Various chance guests arrived. One of the most welcome was Captain MacKenzie of the Celtic Society and the 72d regiment, a picture of a Highlander in his gigantic person and innocent and generous disposition. Poor fellow, he is going to retreat to Brittany, to make his half-pay support a wife and family. I did not dare to ask how many. God send I may have the means of serving him.
He told me a Maclean story which was new to me. At the battle of Sheriffmuir that clan was commanded by a chief called Hector. In the action, as the chief rushed forward, he was frequently in situations of peril. His foster-father followed him with seven sons, whom he reserved as a bodyguard, whom he threw forward into the battle as he saw his chief pressed. The signal he gave was, “Another for Hector!” The youths replied, “Death for Hector!” and were all successively killed. These words make the sign and countersign at this day of the clan Gillian.
Young Shortreed dined with us and the two Fergusons, Sir Adam and the Colonel. We had a pleasant evening.
October 19. — Wrought out my task, and better — as I have done for these several days past. Lady Anna Maria Elliot arrived unexpectedly to dinner, and though she had a headache, brought her usual wit and good-humour to enliven us.
October 20. — The day being basely muggy, I had no walk, which I was rather desirous to secure. I wrought, however; and twothirds of the last volume of Tales of my Grandfather are finished. I received a large packet of proofs, etc., which for some reason had been delayed. We had two of Dr. Brewster’s boys to dinner — fine children; they are spirited, promising, and very well-behaved.
October 21. — Wrought till one o’clock, then walked out for two hours, though with little comfort, the bushes being loaded with rain; but exercise is very necessary to me, and I have no mind to die of my armchair. A letter from Skene, acquainting me that the Censors of the French press have prohibited the insertion of my answer to the man Gourgaud. This is their freedom of the press! The fact is there is an awkward “composition” between the Government and the people of France, that the latter will endure the former so long as they will allow them to lull themselves asleep with recollections of their past glory, and neither the one nor the other sees that truth and honesty and freedom of discussion are the best policy. He knows, though, there is an answer; and that is all I care about.
October 22. — Another vile damp drizzling day. I do not know any morning in my life so fit for work, on which I nevertheless, while desirous of employing it to purpose, make less progress. A hangdog drowsy feeling wrought against me, and I was obliged to lay down the pen and indulge myself in a drumly sleep.
The Haigs of Bemerside, Captain Hamilton, Mr. Bainbridge and daughter, with young Nicol Milne and the Fergusons, dined here. Miss Haig sings Italian music better than any person I ever heard out of the Opera-house. But I am neither a judge nor admirer of the science. I do not know exactly what is aimed at, and therefore cannot tell what is attained. Had a letter from Colin Mackenzie, who has proposed himself for the little situation in the Register House. I have written, him, begging him to use the best interest in his own behalf, and never mind me.
October 23. — Another sullen rainy day. “Hazy weather, Mr. Noah,” as Punch says in the puppet-show. I worked slow, however, and untowardly, and fell one leaf short of my task.
Went to Selkirk, and dined with the forest Club, for the first time I have been there this season. It was the collar-day, but being extremely rainy, I did not go to see them course. N.B. — Of all things, the greatest bore is to hear a dull and bashful man sing a facetious song.
October 24. — Vilely low in spirits. I have written a page and a half, and doubt whether I can write more to-day. A thick throbbing at my heart, and fancies thronging on me. A disposition to sleep, or to think on things melancholy and horrible while I wake. Strange that one’s nerves should thus master them, for nervous the case is, as I know too well. I am beginning to tire of my Journal, and no wonder, faith, if I have only such trash as this to record. But the best is, a little exertion or a change of the current of thought relieves me.
God, who subjects us to these strange maladies, whether of mind or body I cannot say, has placed the power within our own reach, and we should be grateful. I wrestled myself so far out of the Slough of Despond as to take a good long walk, and my mind is restored to its elasticity. I did not attempt to work, especially as we were going down to Mertoun, and set off at five o’clock.
October 25. — We arrived at Mertoun yesterday, and heard with some surprise that George had gone up in an air balloon, and ascended two miles and a half above this sublunary earth. I should like to have an account of his sensations, but his letters said nothing serious about them. Honest George, I certainly did not suspect him of being so flighty! I visited the new plantations on the river-side with Mrs. Scott; I wish her lord and master had some of her taste for planting. When I came home I walked through the Rhymer’s Glen, and I thought how the little fall would look if it were heightened. When I came home a surprise amounting nearly to a shock reached me in another letter from L.J.S. Methinks this explains the gloom which hung about me yesterday.