say of a fowl that if you draw a chalk line on a table, and lay chick-a-diddle down with his bill upon it, the poor thing will imagine himself opposed by an insurmountable barrier, which he will not attempt to cross. Suchlike are onehalf of the obstacles which serve to interrupt our best resolves, and such is my pretended want of paper. It is like Sterne’s want of sous when he went to relieve the Pauvre Honteux.
October 4. — I ought to record with gratitude to God Almighty the continued health of body and mind, which He hath vouchsafed to grant me. I have had of late no accesses either of bile or of nervous affection, and by mixing exercise with literary labour, I have escaped the tremor cordis which on other occasions has annoyed me cruelly. I went to the inspection of the Selkirkshire Yeomanry, by Colonel Thornhill, 7th Hussars. The Colonel is a remarkably fine-looking man, and has a good address. His brow bears token of the fatigues of war. He is a great falconer, and has promised to fly his hawks on Friday for my amusement, and to spend the day at Abbotsford. The young Duke of B. was on the field looking at the corps, most of whom are his tenants. They did very well, and are fine, smart young men, and well mounted. Too few of them though, which is a pity. The exercise is a work which in my time I have loved well.
Finished my task at night.
October 5. — I was thinking this morning that my time glided away in a singularly monotonous manner, like one of those dark grey days which neither promise sunshine nor threaten rain; too melancholy for enjoyment, too tranquil for repining. But this day has brought a change which somewhat shakes my philosophy. I find by a letter from J. Gibson that I may go to London without danger, and if I may, I in a manner must, to examine the papers in the Secretary of State’s office about Bon. when at Saint Helena. The opportunity having been offered must be accepted, and yet I had much rather stay at home. Even the prospect of seeing Sophia and Lockhart must be mingled with pain, yet this is foolish too. Lady Hamilton writes me that Pozzo di Borgo, the Russian Minister at Paris, is willing to communicate to me some particulars of Bonaparte’s early life. Query — might I not go on there? In for a penny, in for a pound. I intend to take Anne with me, and the pleasure will be great to her, who deserves much at my hand.
October 6. — Charles and his friend Surtees left us this morning.
Went to see Colonel Thornhill’s hawks fly. Some part of the amusement is very beautiful, particularly the first flight of the hawks, when they sweep so beautifully round the company, jingling their bells from time to time, and throwing themselves into the most elegant positions as they gaze about for their prey. But I do not wonder that the impatience of modern times has renounced this expensive and precarious mode of sporting. The hawks are liable to various misfortunes, and are besides addicted to fly away; one of ours was fairly lost for the day, and one or two went off without permission, but returned. We killed a crow and frightened a snipe. There are, however, ladies and gentlemen enough to make a gallant show on the top of Mintlaw Kipps. The falconer made a fine figure — a handsome and active young fellow with the falcon on his wrist. The Colonel was most courteous, and named a hawk after me, which was a compliment. The hawks are not named till they have merited that distinction. I walked about six miles and was not fatigued.
There dined with us Colonel Thornhill, Clifton, young Whytbank, Spencer Stanhope, and his brother, with Miss Tod and my old friend Locker, Secretary to Greenwich Hospital. We did not break up the party till one in the morning, and were very well amused.
October 7. — A weary day of rain. Locker and I chatted from time to time, and I wrought not at Boney, but upon the prose works, of which I will have a volume ready to send in on Monday. I got a letter from John Gibson, with an offer by Longman for Napoleon of ten thousand five hundred guineas, which I have advised them to accept. Also I hear there is some doubt of my getting to London, from the indecision of these foolish Londoners.
I don’t care whether I go or no! And yet it is unpleasant to see how one’s motions depend on scoundrels like these. Besides, I would like to be there, were it but to see how the cat jumps. One knows nothing of the world, if you are absent from it so long as I have been.
October 8. — Locker left me this morning. He is of opinion the ministry must soon assume another form, but that the Whigs will not come in. Lord Liverpool holds much by Lord Melville — well in point of judgment — and by the Duke of Wellington — still better, but then the Duke is a soldier — a bad education for a statesman in a free country. The Chancellor is also consulted by the Premier on all law affairs. Canning and Huskisson are at the head of the other party, who may be said to have taken the Cabinet by storm, through sheer dint of talent. I should like to see how these ingredients are working; but by the grace of God, I will take care of putting my finger into the cleft stick.
Locker has promised to get my young cousin Walter Scott on some quarterdeck or other.
Received from Mr. Cadell the second instalment advance of cash on Canongate. It is in English bills and money, in case of my going to town.
October 9. — A gracious letter from Messrs. Abud and Son, bill-brokers, etc.; assure Mr. Gibson that they will institute no legal proceedings against me for four or five weeks. And so I am permitted to spend my money and my leisure to improve the means of paying them their debts, for that is the only use of my present journey. They are Jews: I suppose the devil baits for Jews with a pork griskin. Were I not to exert myself, I wonder where their money is to come from.
A letter from Gillies menacing the world with a foreign miscellany. The plan is a good one, but “he canna haud it,” as John Moodie says. He will think all is done when he has got a set of names, and he will find the difficulty consists not in that, but in getting articles. I wrote on the prose works.
Lord and Lady Minto dined and spent the night at Abbotsford.
October 10. — Well, I must prepare for going to London, and perhaps to Paris. The morning frittered away. I slept till eight o’clock, then our guests till twelve; then walked out to direct some alterations on the quarry, which I think may at little expense be rendered a pretty recess. Wordsworth swears by an old quarry, and is in some degree a supreme authority on such points. Rain came on; returned completely wet. I had next the displeasure to find that I had lost the conclusion of vol. v. of Napoleon, seven or eight pages at least, which I shall have to write over again, unless I can find it. Well, as Othello says, “that’s not much.” My cousin James Scott came to dinner.
I have great unwillingness to set out on this journey; I almost think it ominous; but
“They that look to freits, my master dear,
Their freits will follow them.”
I will stick to my purpose. Answered a letter from Gillies about establishing a foreign journal; a good plan, but I fear in sorry hands. Of those he names as his assistants they who can be useful will do little, and the labours of those who are willing to work will rather hold the publication down. I fear it will not do.
I am downhearted about leaving all my things, after I was quietly settled; it is a kind of disrooting that recalls a thousand painful ideas of former happier journeys. And to be at the mercy of these fellows! God help — but rather God bless — man must help himself.
October 11. — We are ingenious self-tormentors. This journey annoys me more than anything of the kind in my life. My wife’s figure seems to stand before me, and her voice is in my ears — ”Scott, do not go.” It half frightens me. Strong throbbing at my heart, and a disposition to be very sick. It is just the effect of so many feelings which had been lulled asleep by the uniformity of my life, but which awaken on any new subject of agitation. Poor, poor Charlotte!! I cannot daub it further. I get incapable of arranging my papers too. I will
