The journal of Sir Walter Scott, from the original manuscript at Abbotsford

Preface

On the death of Sir Walter Scott, in 1832, his entire literary remains were placed at the disposal of his son-in-law, Mr. John Gibson Lockhart. Among these remains were two volumes of a Journal which had been kept by Sir Walter from 1825 to 1832. Mr. Lockhart made large use of this Journal in his admirable life of his father-in-law. Writing, however, so short a time after Scott's death, he could not use it so freely as he might have wished, and, according to his own statement, it was "by regard for the feelings of living persons " that he both omitted and altered ; and, indeed, he printed no chapter of the Diary in full.

There is no longer any reason why the Journal should not be published in its entirety, and by the permission of the Hon. Mrs. Maxwell-Scott it now appears exactly as Scott left it — but for the correction of obvious slips of the pen, and the omission of some details chiefly of family and domestic interest.

The original Journal consists of two small 4to volumes, 9 inches by 8, bound in vellum, and furnished with strong locks. The manuscript is closely written on both sides, and towards the end shows painful evidence of the physical prostration of the writer. The Journal abruptly eloses, towards the middle of the second volume, with the following entry — probably the last words ever penned by Scott :

by one of the old Pontiffs hut 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 Mistress 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 and wine and water.

We slept reasonably, but on the next m.orning iv PREFACE

In the annotations, it seemed most satisfactory to follow as closely as possible the method adopted by Mr. Lockhart. In the case of those parts of the Journal that have been already published, almost all Mr. Lockhart's notes have been reproduced, and these are distinguished by his initials. Extracts from the Life, from James Skene of Rubislaw's unpublished Reminiscences, and from unpublished letters of Scott himself and his contemporaries, have been freely used wherever they seemed to illustrate particular passages in the Journal.

With regard to Scott's quotations a certain diflSculty presented itself. In his Journal he evidently quoted from memory, and he not unfrequently makes considerable variations from the originals. Occasionally, indeed, it would seem that he deliberately made free with the exact words of his author, to adapt them more pertinently to his own mood or the impulse of the moment. In any case it seemed best to let Scott's quotations appear as he wrote them. His reading lay in such curious and unfrequented quarters that to verify all the sources is a nearly impossible task. It is to be remembered, also, that he himself held very free notions on the subject of quotation.

I have to thank the Hon. Mrs. Maxwell-Scott for permitting me to retain for the last three years the precious volumes in which the Journal is contained, and for granting me access to the correspondence of Sir Walter preserved at Abbotsford, and I have likewise to acknowledge the courtesy of His Grace the Duke of Buccleuch for allowing me the use of the Scott letters at Dalkeith. To Mr. W. F. Skene, Historiographer Royal for Scotland, my thanks are warmly rendered for intrusting me with his precious heirloom, the volume which contains Sir W^alter's letters to his father, and the Reminiscences that accompany them — one of many kind oflBces towards me during the last thirty years in our relations as author and publisher. I am also obliged to Mr. Archibald Constable for permitting me to use the interesting Memorandum by James Ballantyne.

Finally, I have to express my obligation to many other friends, who never failed cordially to respond to any call I made upon them.

D. D.

Edinburgh, 22 Drummond Place, October 1, 1890.

SIR WALTER SCOTT'S JOURNAL

[Edinburgh,'] November 20, 1825. — I have all my life regretted that I did not keep a regular Journal. I have myself lost recollection of much that was interesting, and I have deprived my family and the public of some curious information, by not carrying this resolution into effect. I have bethought me, on seeing lately some volumes of Byron's notes, that he probably had hit upon the right way of keeping such a memorandum-book, by throwing aside all pretence to regularity and order, and marking down events just as they occurred to recollection. I will try this plan; and behold I have a handsome locked volume, such as might serve for a lady's album. Nota bene, John Lockhart, and Anne, and I are to raise a Society for the suppression of Albums. It is a most troublesome shape of mendicity. Sir, your autograph — a line of poetry — or a prose sentence ! — Among all the sprawling sonnets, and blotted trumpery that dishonours these miscellanies, a man must have a good stomach that can swallow this botheration as a compliment.

I was in Ireland last summer, and had a most delightful tour. It cost me upwards of £500, including £100 left with Walter and Jane, for we travelled a large party and in style. There is much less exaggerated about the Irish than is to be expected. Their poverty is not exaggerated ; it is on the extreme verge of human misery ; their cottages would scarce serve for pig-styes, even in Scotland, and their rags seem the very refuse of a rag-shop, and are disposed on their bodies with such ingenious variety of wretchedness that you would think nothing but some sort of perverted taste could have assembled so many shreds together. You are constantly fearful that some knot or loop will give, and place the individual before you in all the primitive simplicity of Paradise. Then for their food, they have only potatoes, and too few of them. Yet the men look stout and healthy, the women buxom and well-coloured.

Dined with us, being Sunday, Will. Clerk and Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. W. C. is the second son of the celebrated author of Naval

Tactics.^ I have known him intimately since our college days ; and, to my thinking, never met a man of greater powers, or more complete information on all desirable subjects. In youth he had strongly the Edinburgh pr-uritus disputandi ; but habits of society have greatly mellowed it, and though still anxious to gain your suffrage to his views, he endeavours rather to conciliate your opinion than conquer it by force. Still there is enough of tenacity of sentiment to prevent, in London society, where all must go slack and easy, AV. C. from rising to the very top of the tree as a conversation man, who must not only wdnd the thread of his argument gracefully, but also know when to let go. But I like the Scotch taste better ; there is more matter, more information, above all, more spirit in it. Clerk will, I am afraid, leave the world little more than the report of his fame. He is too indolent to finish any considerable work.^ Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe is another very remarkable man. He was bred a clergyman, but did not take orders, owing I believe to a peculiar effeminacy of voice which must have been unpleasant in reading prayers. Some family quarrels occasioned his being indifferently provided for by a small annuity from his elder brother, extorted by an arbitral decree. He has infinite wit and a great turn for antiquarian lore, as the publications of Kirkton^^ etc., bear witness. His drawings are the most fanciful and droll imaginable — a mixture between Hogarth and some of those foreign masters who painted temptations of St. Anthony, and such grotesque subjects. As a poet he has not a very strong touch. Strange that his finger-ends can describe so well what he cannot bring out clearly and firmly in words. If he were to make drawing a resource, it might raise him a large income. But though a lover of antiquities, and therefore of expensive trifles, C. K. S. is too aristocratic to use his art to assist his revenue. He is a very complete genealogist, and has made many detections in Douglas and other books on pedigree, which our nobles would do well to suppress if they had an opportunity. Strange that a man should be curious after scandal of centuries old ! Not but Charles loves it fresh and fresh also, for, being very much a fashionable man, he is always master of the reigning report, and he tells the anecdote with such gusto that there is no helping sympathising with him — the peculiarity of voice adding not a little to the general effect. My idea is that C. K. S., with his oddities, tastes, satire, and high aristocratic feelings, resembles Horace Walpole — perhaps in his person also, in a general way. — See Miss Hawkins' Anecdotes^ for a description of the author of The Castle of Otranto.

1 An Essay on Naval Tactics, Systematical 3 Secret and True History of the Church of and Historical, xoith explanatory plates. In Scotland from the Restoration to the year 1678. four parts. By John Clerk. 410. Lond. 1790. 4to. Ediu. 1817.

2 William Clerk, of Eldin. the prototype of Darsie Latimer in Redgauntle.t, ''admired

through life for talents and learning of which * Anecdotes, Biographical Sketches, and Me-

he has left no monument," died at Edinburgh 7noirs, collected by La3titia Matilda Hawkins, in January, 1847. 8vo. Lond. 1822.

No other company at dinner except my cheerful and good-humoured friend Missie Macdonald,^ so called in fondness. One bottle of champagne with the ladies' assistance, two of claret. I observe that both these great connoisseurs w^ere very nearly, if not quite, agreed, that there are no absolutely undoubted originals of Queen Mary. But how then should we be so very distinctly informed as to her features ? What has become of all the originals which suggested these innumerable copies ? Surely Mary must have been as unfortunate in this as in other particulars of her life.^

November 21. — I am enamoured of my journal. I wish the zeal may but last. Once more of Ireland. I said their poverty was not exaggerated ; neither is their wdt — nor their good-humour — nor their whimsical absurdity — nor their courage.

Wit. — I gave a fellow a shilling on some occasion when sixpence was the fee. " Remember you owe me sixpence, Pat." " May your honour live till I pay you !" There was courtesy as well as wit in this, and all the clothes on Pat's back would have been dearly bought by the sum in question.

Good-humour. — There is perpetual kindness in the Irish cabin ; butter-milk, potatoes, a stool is offered, or a stone is rolled that your honour may sit down and be out of the smoke, and those who beg everywhere else seem desirous to exercise free hospitality in their own houses. Their natural disposition is turned to gaiety and happiness ; while a Scotchman is thinking about the term-day, or, if easy on that subject, about hell in the next world — while an Englishman is making a little hell of his own in the present, because his muffin is not well roasted — Pat's mind is always turned to fun and ridicule. They are terribly excitable, to be sure, and will murther you on slight suspicion, and find out next day that it was all a mistake, and that it was not yourself they meant to kill at all at all.

Absurdity. — They were widening the road near Lord Claremont's seat as we passed. A number of cars were drawn up together at a particular point, where we also halted, as we understood they were blowing a rock, and the shot was expected presently to go off. After waiting two minutes or so, a fellow called out something, and our carriage as a planet, and the cars for satellites, started all forward at once, the Irishmen whooping and crying, and the horses galloping. Unable to learn the meaning of this, I was only left to suppose that they had delayed firing the intended shot till we should pass, and that we were passing quickly to make the delay as short as possible. No such thing. By dint of making great haste, we got within ten yards of the rock when the blast took place, throwing dust and gravel on our carriage, and had our postillion brought us a little nearer (it was

1 Miss Macdonald Buchanan of Drummakill. vived Sir Walter till the year 1851. In the Sir

—J- G. L. Mungo Malagrowther of The Fortunes of Nigel

^ Mr. Sharpe, whose Zetters and J/emoiV were some of Sharpe's peculiarities are not unfaith-

published in two volumes 8vo, Edin. 1888, sur- fully mirrored.

not for want of hallooing and flogging that he did not), we should have had a still more serious share of the explosion. The explanation I received from the drivers was, that they had been told by the overseer that as the mine had been so long in going off^ he dared say we would have time to pass it — so we just waited long enough to make the danger imminent. I have only to add that two or three people got behind the carriage, just for nothing but to see how our honours got past.

Went to the Oil Gas Committee^ this morning, of which concern I am president, or chairman. It has amused me much by bringing me into company with a body of active, business-loving, money-making citizens of Edinburgh, chiefly Whigs by the way, whose sentiments and proceedings amuse me. The stock is rather low in the market, 3os. premium instead of £5. It must rise, however, for the advantages of the light are undeniable, and folks will soon become accustomed to idle apprehensions or misapprehensions. From £20 to £25 should light a house capitally, supposing you leave town in the vacation. The three last quarters cost me £10, 10s., and the flrst, £8, was greatly overcharged. We will see what this, the worst and darkest quarter, costs.

Dined with Sir Robert Dundas,^ where we met Lord and Lady Melville. My little nieces (ex officio) gave us some pretty music. I do not know and cannot utter a note of music ; and complicated harmonies seem to me a babble of confused though pleasing sounds. Yet songs and simple melodies, especially if connected with words and ideas, have as much effect on me as on most people. But then I hate to hear a young person sing without feeling and expression suited to the song. I cannot bear a voice that has no more life in it than a pianoforte or a bugle-horn. There is something about all the fine arts, of soul and spirit, which, like the vital principle in man, defies the research of the most critical anatomist. You feel where it is not, yet you cannot describe what it is you want. Sir Joshua, or some other great painter, was looking at a picture on which much pains had been bestowed — " Why, yes," he said, in a hesitating manner, " it is very clever — very well done — can't find fault ; but it wants something ; it wants — it wants, damn me — it wants that " — throwing his hand over his head and snapping his fingers. Tom Moore's is the most exqui-

1 One of the numerous joint-stock adventures 2 sir Robert Dundas of Beechwood, one of which were so common in Edinburgh at this Scott's colleagues at the "Clerks' Table" — son time. There had already been formed a Gas- of the parish minister of Humbie, and kinsman light Company in 1818, for the manufacture of of Lord and Lady Melville ; he died in 1835. gas from coal, but the projectors of this new Some of the other gentlemen with whom the venture believed they could produce a purer duties of his ofiQce brought Scott into close daily and more powerful light by the use of oil. It connection were David Hume, Hector Macdonwas not successful commercially, and, as is told aid Buchanan, and Colin Mackenzie of Portin the Journal, the rival company acquired the more. With these families, says Jlr. Lockhart, stock and plant a few years after the formation "he and his lived in such constant familiarity of this "Oil Gas Co.,'"" of which Sir Walter had of kindness, that the children all called their been Chairman from 1823. father's colleagues imdfs^ and the mothers of

Seeii/e, vol. vii. pp. 141,144, 197, 251, 374; and their little Mends aunts : and in truth the es-

viii. p. 113; Cockburn's Memorials (for 1825). tablishment was a brotherhood."

1825.] JOURNAL B

site warbling I ever heard. Next to liim, David Macculloch^ for Scots songs. The last, when a boy at Dumfries, was much admired by Burns, who used to get him to try over the words which he composed to new melodies. He is brother of MaccuUoch of Ardwell.

November 22. — Moore. I saw Moore (for the first time, I may say) this season. We had indeed met in public twenty years ago. There is a manly frankness, and perfect ease and good breeding about him which is delightful. Not the least touch of the poet or the pedant. A little — very little man. Less, I think, than Lewis, and somewhat like him in person ; God knows, not in conversation, for Matt, though a clever fellow, was a bore of the first description. Moreover, he looked always like a schoolboy. I remember a picture of him being handed about at Dalkeith House. It was a miniature I think by Sanders,^ who had contrived to muffle Lewis's person in a cloak, and placed some poignard or dark lanthorn appurtenance (I think) in his hand, so as to give the picture the cast of a bravo. " That like Mat Lewis ?" said Duke Henry, to whom it had passed in turn ; " why, that is like a man !" Imagine the effect ! Lewis was at his elbow. ^ Now Moore has none of this insignificance ; to be sure his person is much stouter than that of M. G. L., his countenance is decidedly plain, but the expression is so very animated, especially in speaking or singing, that it is far more interesting than the finest features could have rendered it.

I was aware that Byron had often spoken, both in private society and in his Journal, of Moore and myself in the same breath, and with the same sort of regard ; so I was curious to see what there could be in common betwixt us, Moore having lived so much in the gay world, I in the country, and wdth people of business, and sometimes with politicians ; Moore a scholar, I none ; he a musician and artist, I without knowledge of a note ; he a democrat, I an aristocrat — with many other points of difference ; besides his being an Irishman, I a Scotchman, and both tolerably national. Yet there is a point of resemblance, and a strong one. We are both good-humoured fellows, who rather seek to enjoy what is going forward than to maintain our dignity as lions ; and we have both seen the world too widely and too well not to contemn in our souls the imaginary consequence of literary people, who walk with their noses in the air, and remind me always of the fellow whom Johnson met in an alehouse, and who

1 Mrs. Thomas Scott's brother. Ian Cunningham, " that he thought he had

2 George L. Sanders, born at Kinghorn, 1774 ; ?^^'f /°^<; ^"f ^ f.^^^o^. ,f ^^^"^ ' ^^^ mo^k " died in London 1846 & » . mvited him to dine with him at his hotel."

' ■ Lewis died in 1818, and Scott says of him, "He Sir Walter told Moore that Lewis was the did much good by stealth, and was a most genperson who first set him upon trying his tal- erous creature— fonder of great people than he ent at poetry, adding that "he had passed the ought to have been, either as a man of talent early part of his life with a set of clever, rat- or as a man of fashion. He had always ladies tling, drinking fellows, whose thoughts and and duchesses in his mouth, and was pathettalents lay wholly out of the region of jwetry." ically fond of any one that had a title. Mat Ihirty years after having met Lewis in Edin- had queerish eyes— they proiected like those burgh for the first time in 1798, he said to Al- of some insects, and wereflattish on the orbit."

called himself " the great Twalmley — inventor of the floodgate iron for smoothing linen." He also enjovs the mot pour rire^ and so do I.

Moore has, I think, been ill-treated about Byron's Memoirs ; he surrendered them to the family (Lord Byron's executors) and thus lost £2000 which he had raised upon them at'a most distressing moment of his life. It is true they offered and pressed the money on him afterwards, but they ought to have settled it with the booksellers and not put poor Tom's spirit in arms against his interest.' I think at least it might have been so managed. At any rate there must be an authentic life of Byron by somebody. Why should they not give the benefit of their materials to Tom Moore, whom Byron had made the depositary of his own Memoirs ? — but T. M. thinks that Cam Hobhouse has the purpose of writing Byron's life himself. He and Moore were at sharp words during the negotiation, and there was some explanation necessary before the affair ended. It was a pity that nothing save the total destruction of Byron's Memoirs would satisfy his executors.^ But there was a reason — Preniat nox alta.

It would be a delightful addition to life if T. M. had a cottage within two miles of one. We went to the theatre together, and the house, being luckily a good one, received T. M. with rapture. I could have hugged them, for it paid back the debt of the kind reception I met with in Ireland.^

Here is a matter for a May morning, but much fitter for a November one. The general distress in the city has affected H. and R.,* Constable's great agents. Should they go, it is not likely that Constable can stand, and such an event would lead to great distress and perplexity on the part of J. B. and mj'self. Thank God, I have enough at least to pay forty shillings in the pound, taking matters at the very worst. But much distress and inconvenience must be the consequence. I had a lesson in 1814 which should have done good upon me, but success and abundance erased it from my mind. But this is no time for journalising or moralising either. Necessity is like a sour-faced cook-maid, and I a turn-spit whom she has flogged ere now, till he mounted his wheel. If W-st-k° can be out by 25th January it will do much, and it is possible.

1 Moore's friends seera to have recognized fact." — Clayden, Rogers and Ms Contempora-

his thorough manliness and independence of ries, vol. i. p. 378.

character. Lord John Russell testifies: " Nev- 2 Moore's Life of Byron was published in two

er did he make wife or family a pretext for po- vols, ito in 1830, and dedicated to Sir Walter

litical shabbiness — never did he imagine that Scott by "his affectionate friend, T. M." See

to leave a disgraced name as an inheritance to this Journal under ilarch 4, 1828.

his children was a duty as a father" {Memoirs, ^ "I parted from Scott,"' says Moore, "with

vol. i. pp. xiii and xiv), and when Rogers urged the feeling that all the world might admire

this plea of family as a reason why he should him in his works, but that those only could

accept the money, Moore said, "More mean learn to love him as he deserved who had seen

things have been done in this world under the him at Abbotsford." Moore died February 26,

shelter of ' wife and children' than under any 1852; see Moore's Life, vol. iv. pp. 329-42, and

pretext worldly-mindedness can resort to. " To vol. v. pp. 13-14.

which S. R. only said, "Well, your life may be * Hurst and Robinson, Booksellers, London.

a good poem, but it is a bad matter of ^ Woodstock was at this time nearly completed.

-'s son lias saved his comrade on shipboard by throwing himself overboard' and keeping the other afloat — a very gallant thing. But the Gran giag' Asso^ asks me to write a poem on the civic crown, of which he sends me a description quoted from Adam's Antiquities, which mellifluous performance is to persuade the Admiralty to give the young conservator promotion. Oh ! he is a rare head-piece, an admirable Merron. I do not believe there is in nature such a fullacorned Boar.''

Could not write to purpose for thick-coming fancies ; the wheel would not turn easily, and cannot be forced.

"My spinning-wheel is auld and stiff, The rock o't winna stand, sir ; To keep the temper-pin in tiff Employs aft my hand, sir."^

Went to dine at the L[ord] J[ustice]-C[lerk's]* as I thought by invitation, but it was for Tuesday se'nnight. Returned very well pleased, not being exactly in the humour for company, and had a beef -steak. My appetite is surely, excepting in quantity, that of a farmer ; for, eating moderately of anything, my Epicurean pleasure is in the most simple diet. Wine I seldom taste when alone, and use instead a little spirits and water. I have of late diminished the quantity, for fear of a weakness inductive to a diabetes — a disease which broke up my father's health, though one of the most temperate men who ever lived. I smoke a couple of cigars instead, which operates equally as a sedative —

"Just to drive the cold winter away, And drown the fatigues of the day."

I smoked a good deal about twenty years ago when at Ashestiel ; but, coming down one morning to the parlour, I found, as the room was small and confined, that the smell was unpleasant, and laid aside the use of the Nicotian weed for many years ; but was again led to use it by the example of my son, a hussar oflficer, and my son-in-law, an Oxford student. I could lay it aside to-morrow ; I laugh at the dominion of custom in this and many things.

" We make the giants first, and then — do not kill them."

November 23. — On comparing notes with Moore I was confirmed in one or two points which I had always laid down in considering poor Byron. One was, that like Rousseau he was apt to be very suspicious, and a plain downright steadiness of manner was the true mode to maintain his good opinion. Will Rose told me that once,

1 Probably Sir Walter's dog-Italian for "great 3 "My Jo Janet," Tea-Tdble Miscellany. donkey." 4 The Right Hon. David Boyle, who was at

2 Cymbeline, Act 11. Sc. 5. the time residing at 28 Charlotte Square.

while sitting with Byron, he fixed insensibly his eyes on his feet, one of which, it must be remembered, was deformed. Looking up suddenly, he saw Byron regarding him with a look of concentrated and deep displeasure, which Avore off when he observed no consciousness or embarrassment in the countenance of Rose. Murray afterwards explained this, by telling Rose that Lord Byron was very jealous of having this personal imperfection noticed or attended to. In another point, Moore confirmed my previous opinion, namely, that Byron loved mischief-making. Moore had written to him cautioning him against the project of establishing the paper called the Liberal, in communion with such men as P. B. Shelley and Hunt,^ on whom he said the world had set its mark. Byron showed this to the parties. Shelley wrote a modest and rather affecting expostulation to Moore. '^ These two peculiarities of extreme suspicion and love of mischief are both shades of the malady which certainly tinctured some part of the character of this mighty genius ; and, without some tendency towards which, genius — I mean that kind which depends on the, imaginative power — perhaps cannot exist to great extent. The wheels of a machine, to play rapidly, must not fit with the utmost exactness, else the attrition diminishes the impetus.

Another of Byron's peculiarities was the love of mystifying ; which indeed may be referred to that of mischief. There was no knowing how much or how little to believe of his narratives. Instance : — Mr. Bankes^ expostulating with him upon a dedication which he had written in extravagant terms of praise to Cam Hobhouse, Byron told him that Cam had teased him into the dedication till he had said, " Well ; it shall be so, — providing you will write the dedication yourself " ; and affirmed that Cam Hobhouse did write the high-coloured dedication accordingly. I mentioned this to Murray, having the report from Will Rose, to whom Bankes had mentioned it. Murray, in reply, assured me that the dedication Avas written by Lord Byron himself, and showed it me in his own hand. I wrote to Rose to mention the thing to Bankes, as it might have made mischief had the story got into the circle. Byron w^as disposed to think all men of imagination were addicted to mix fiction (or poetry) with their prose. He used to say he dared believe the celebrated courtezan of Venice, about whom Rousseau makes so piquant a story, was, if one could see her, a draggle-tailed wench enough. I believe that he embellished his own amours considerably, and that he was, in many respects, le fanfaron de vices quHl Ti'avoit pas. He loved to be thought awful, mysterious, and gloomy, and sometimes