_June_ 4.--I wrote a good task yesterday, and to-day a great one, scarce stirring from the desk the whole day, except a few minutes when Lady Rae called. I was glad to see my wife"s old friend, with whom in early life we had so many liaisons. I am not sure it is right to work so hard; but a man must take himself, as well as other people, when he is in the humour. A man will do twice as much at one time and in half the time, and twice as well as he will be able to do at another. People are always crying out about method, and in some respects it is good, and shows to great advantage among men of business, but I doubt if men of method, who can lay aside or take up the pen just at the hour appointed, will ever be better than poor creatures. Lady L[ouisa] S[tuart] used to tell me of Mr. Hoole, the translator of _Ta.s.so_ and _Ariosto_, and in that capacity a n.o.ble trans.m.u.ter of gold into lead, that he was a clerk in the India House, with long ruffles and a snuff-coloured suit of clothes, who occasionally visited her father [John, Earl of Bute]. She sometimes conversed with him, and was amused to find that he _did_ exactly so many couplets day by day, neither more or less; and habit had made it light to him, however heavy it might seem to the reader.
Well, but if I lay down the pen, as the pain in my breast hints that I should, what am I to do? If I think, why, I shall weep--and that"s nonsense; and I have no friend now--none--to receive my tediousness for half-an-hour of the gloaming. Let me be grateful--I have good news from Abbotsford.
_June_ 5.--Though this be Monday, I am not able to feague it away, as Bayes says.[279] Between correcting proofs and writing letters, I have got as yet but two pages written, and that with labour and a sensation of pain in the chest. I may be bringing on some serious disease by working thus hard; if I had once justice done to other folks, I do not much care, only I would not like to suffer long pain. Harden made me a visit. He argued with me that Lord M. affiched his own importance, too much at the election, and says Henry is anxious about it. I hinted to him the necessity of counter-balancing it the next time, which will be soon.
Thomson also called about the Bannatyne Club.
These two interruptions did me good, though I am still a poor wretch.
After all, I have f.a.gged through six pages; and made poor Wurmser lay down his sword on the glacis of Mantua--and my head aches--my eyes ache--my back aches--so does my breast--and I am sure my heart aches, and what can Duty ask more?
_June_ 6.--I arose much better this morning, having taken some medicine, which has removed the strange and aching feeling in my back and breast.
I believe it is from the diaphragm; it must be looked to, however. I have not yet breakfasted, yet have cleared half my day"s work holding it at the ordinary stint.
Worked hard. John Swinton, my kinsman, came to see me,--very kind and affectionate in his manner; my heart always warms to that Swinton connection, so faithful to old Scottish feelings. Harden was also with me. I talked with him about what Lord M. did at the election; I find that he disapproves--I see these visits took place on the 5th.
_June_ 7.--Again a day of hard work, only at half-past eight I went to the Dean of Faculty"s to a consultation about Constable,[280] and met with said Dean and Mr. [J.S.] More and J. Gibson. I find they have as high hope of success as lawyers ought to express; and I think I know how our profession speak when sincere. I cannot interest myself deeply in it. When I had come home from such a business, I used to carry the news to poor Charlotte, who dressed her face in sadness or mirth as she saw the news affect me; this hangs lightly about me. I had almost forgot the appointment, if J.G. had not sent me a card, I pa.s.sed a piper in the street as I went to the Dean"s and could not help giving him a shilling to play _Pibroch a Donuil Dhu_ for luck"s sake--what a child I am!
_June_ 8.--Bilious and headache this morning. A dog howl"d all night and left me little sleep. Poor cur! I dare say he had his distresses, as I have mine. I was obliged to make Dalgleish shut the windows when he appeared at half-past six, as usual, and did not rise till nine, when _me voici_. I have often deserved a headache in my younger days without having one, and Nature is, I suppose, paying off old scores. Ay, but then the want of the affectionate care that used to be ready, with lowered voice and stealthy pace, to smooth the pillow--and offer condolence and a.s.sistance,--gone--gone--for ever--ever--ever. Well, there is another world, and we"ll meet free from the mortal sorrows and frailties which beset us here. Amen, so be it. Let me change the topic with hand and head, and the heart must follow.
I think that sitting so many days and working so hard may have brought on this headache. I must inflict a walk on myself to-day. Strange that what is my delight in the country is _here_ a sort of penance! Well, but now I think on it, I will go to the Chief-Baron and try to get his Lordship"s opinion about the question with Constable; if I carry it, as there is, I trust, much hope I shall, Mr. Gibson says there will be funds to divide 6s. in the pound, without counting upon getting anything from Constable or Hurst, but sheer hard cash of my own. Such another pull is possible, especially if _Boney_ succeeds, and the rogue had a knack at success. Such another, I say, and we touch ground I believe, for surely Constable, Robinson, etc., must pay something; the struggle is worth waring[281] a headache upon.
I finished five pages to-day, headache, laziness, and all.
_June_ 9.--Corrected a stubborn proof this morning. These battles have been the death of many a man--I think they will be mine. Well but it clears to windward; so we will f.a.g on.
Slept well last night. By the way, how intolerably selfish this Journal makes me seem--so much attention to one"s naturals and non-naturals!
Lord Mackenzie[282] called, and we had much chat about business. The late regulations for preparing cases in the Outer-House do not work well, and thus our old machinery, which was very indifferent, is succeeded by a kind that will hardly move at all. Mackenzie says his business is trebled, and that he cannot keep it up. I question whether the extreme strictness of rules of court be advisable in practice they are always evaded, upon an equitable showing. I do not, for instance, lodge a paper _debito tempore_, and for an accident happening, perhaps through the blunder of a Writer"s apprentice, I am to lose my cause. The penalty is totally disproportioned to the delict, and the consequence is, that means are found out of evasion by legal fictions and the like.
The judges listen to these; they become frequent, and the rule of Court ends by being a scarecrow merely. Formerly, delays of this kind were checked by corresponding _amendes_. But the Court relaxed this petty fine too often. Had they been more strict, and levied the mulct on the agents, with _no recourse_ upon their clients, the abuse might have been remedied. I fear the present rule is too severe to do much good.
One effect of running causes fast through the Courts below is, that they go by scores to appeal, and Lord Gifford[283] has. .h.i.therto decided them with such judgment, and so much rapidity, as to give great satisfaction.
The consequence will in time be, that the Scottish Supreme Court will be in effect situated in London. Then down fall--as national objects of respect and veneration--the Scottish Bench, the Scottish Bar, the Scottish Law herself, and--and--"there is an end of an auld sang."[284]
Were I as I have been, I would fight knee-deep in blood ere it came to that. But it is a catastrophe which the great course of events brings daily nearer--
"And who can help it, d.i.c.k?"
I shall always be proud of _Malachi_ as having headed back the Southron, or helped to do so, in one instance at least.
_June_ 10.--This was an unusual teind-day at Court. In the morning and evening I corrected proofs--four sheets in number; and I wrote my task of three pages and a little more. Three pages a day will come, at Constable"s rate, to about 12,000 to 15,000 per year. They have sent their claim; it does not frighten me a bit.
_June_ 11.--Bad dreams about poor Charlotte. Woke, thinking my old and inseparable friend beside me; and it was only when I was fully awake that I could persuade myself that she was dark, low, and distant, and that my bed was widowed. I believe the phenomena of dreaming are in a great measure occasioned by the _double touch_, which takes place when one hand is crossed in sleep upon another. Each gives and receives the impression of touch to and from the other, and this complicated sensation our sleeping fancy ascribes to the agency of another being, when it is in fact produced by our own limbs acting on each other. Well, here goes--_inc.u.mbite remis_.
_June_ 12.--Finished volume third of _Napoleon_. I resumed it on the 1st of June, the earliest period that I could bend my mind to it after my great loss. Since that time I have lived, to be sure, the life of a hermit, except attending the Court five days in the week for about three hours on an average. Except at that time I have been reading or writing on the subject of _Boney_, and have finished last night, and sent to printer this morning the last sheets of fifty-two written since 1st June. It is an awful screed; but grief makes me a house-keeper, and to labour is my only resource. Ballantyne thinks well of the work--very well, but I shall [expect] inaccuracies. An" it were to do again, I would get some one to look it over. But who could that some one be? Whom is there left of human race that I could hold such close intimacy with?
No one. "_Tanneguy du Chatel, ou es-tu!_"[285]. Worked five pages.
_June_ 13.--I took a walk out last evening after tea, and called on Lord Chief-Commissioner and the Macdonald Buchanans, that kind and friendly clan. The heat is very great, and the wrath of the bugs in proportion.
Two hours last night I was kept in an absolute fever. I must make some arrangement for winter. Great pity my old furniture was sold in such a hurry! The wiser way would have been to have let the house furnished.
But it"s all one in the Greek.
"_Peccavi, peccavi, dies quidem sine linea!_" I walked to make calls; got cruelly hot; drank ginger-beer; wrote letters. Then as I was going to dinner, enter a big splay-footed, trifle-headed, old pottering minister, who came to annoy me about a claim which one of his parishioners has to be Earl of Annandale, and which he conceits to be established out of the Border Minstrelsy. He mentioned a curious thing--that three brothers of the Johnstone family, on whose descendants the male representative of these great Border chiefs devolved, were forced to fly to the north in consequence of their feuds with the Maxwells, and agreed to change their names. They slept on the side of the Soutra Hills, and asking a shepherd the name of the place, agreed in future to call themselves Sowtra or Sowter Johnstones. The old pudding-headed man could not comprehend a word I either asked him or told him, and maundered till I wished him in the Annandale beef-stand.[286] Mr. Gibson came in after tea, and we talked business.
Then I was lazy and stupid, and dosed over a book instead of writing. So on the whole, _Confiteor, confiteor, culpa mea, culpa mea_!
_June_ 14.--In the morning I began with a page and a half before breakfast. This is always the best way. You stand like a child going to be bathed, shivering and shaking till the first pitcherful is flung about your ears, and then are as blithe as a water-wagtail. I am just come home from Parliament House; and now, my friend _Nap._, have at you with a down-right blow! Methinks I would fain make peace with my conscience by doing six pages to-night. Bought a little bit of Gruyere cheese, instead of our domestic choke-dog concern. When did I ever purchase anything for my own eating? But I will say no more of that. And now to the bread-mill.
_June_ 15.--I laboured all the evening, but made little way. There were many books to consult; and so all I could really do was to make out my task of three pages. I will try to make up the deficit of Tuesday to-day and to-morrow. Letters from Walter--all well. A visit yesterday from Charles Sharpe.
_June_ 16.--Yesterday sate in the Court till nearly four. I had, of course, only time for my task. I fear I will have little more to-day, for I have accepted to dine at Hector"s. I got, yesterday, a present of two engravings from Sir Henry Raeburn"s portrait of me, which (poor fellow!) was the last he ever painted, and certainly not his worst.[287]
I had the pleasure to give one to young Mr. Davidoff for his uncle, the celebrated Black Captain of the campaign of 1812. Curious that he should be interested in getting the resemblance of a person whose mode of attaining some distinction has been very different. But I am sensible, that if there be anything good about my poetry or prose either, it is a hurried frankness of composition which pleases soldiers, sailors, and young people of bold and active disposition. I have been no sigher in shades--no writer of
"Songs and sonnets and rustical roundelays, Framed on fancies, and whistled on reeds."[288]
[_Abbotsford, Sat.u.r.day_,] _June_ 17.--Left Edinburgh to-day after Parliament House to come [here]. My two girls met me at Torsonce, which was a pleasant surprise, and we returned in the sociable all together.
Found everything right and well at Abbotsford under the new regime. I again took possession of the family bedroom and my widowed couch. This was a sore trial, but it was necessary not to blink such a resolution.
Indeed, I do not like to have it thought that there is any way in which I can be beaten.[289]
_June_ 18.--This morning wrote till half-twelve--good day"s work--at _Canongate Chronicles_. Methinks I can make this work answer. Then drove to Huntly Burn and called at Chiefswood. Walked home. The country crying for rain; yet on the whole the weather delicious, dry, and warm, with a fine air of wind. The young woods are rising in a kind of profusion I never saw elsewhere. Let me once clear off these enc.u.mbrances, and they shall wave broader and deeper yet. But to attain this I _must work_.
Wrought very fair accordingly till two; then walked; after dinner out again with the girls. Smoked two cigars, first time these two months.
_June_ 19.--Wrought very fair indeed, and the day being scorching we dined _al fresco_ in the hall among the armour, and went out early in the evening. Walked to the lake and back again by the Marle pool; very delightful evening.
_June_ 20.--This is also a hard-working day. Hot weather is favourable for application, were it not that it makes the composer sleepy. Pray G.o.d the reader may not partake the sensation! But days of hard work make short journals. To-day we again dine in the hall, and drive to Ashestiel in the evening _pour prendre le frais_.
_June_ 21--We followed the same course we proposed. For a party of pleasure I have attended to business well. Twenty pages of Croftangry, five printed pages each, attest my diligence, and I have had a delightful variation by the company of the two Annes. Regulated my little expenses here.
[_Edinburgh_,] _June_ 22.--Returned to my Patmos. Heard good news from Lockhart. Wife well, and John Hugh better. He mentions poor Southey testifying much interest for me, even to tears. It is odd--am I so hard-hearted a man? I could not have wept for him, though in distress I would have gone any length to serve him. I sometimes think I do not deserve people"s good opinion, for certainly my feelings are rather guided by reflection than impulse. But everybody has his own mode of expressing interest, and mine is stoical even in bitterest grief. _Agere atque pati, Romanum est._ I hope I am not the worse for wanting the tenderness that I see others possess, and which is so amiable. I think it does not cool my wish to be of use where I can. But the truth is, I am better at enduring or acting than at consoling. From childhood"s earliest hour my heart rebelled against the influence of external circ.u.mstances in myself and others. _Non est tanti!_
To-day I was detained in the Court from half-past ten till near four; yet I finished and sent off a packet to Cadell, which will finish one-third of the _Chronicles_, vol. 1st.
Henry Scott came in while I was at dinner, and sat while I ate my beef-steak. A gourmand would think me much at a loss, coming back to my ploughman"s meal of boiled beef and Scotch broth, from the rather _recherche_ table at Abbotsford, but I have no philosophy in my carelessness on that score. It is natural--though I am no ascetic, as my father was.
_June_ 23.--The heat tremendous, and the drought threatening the hay and barley crop. Got from the Court at half-twelve, and walked to the extremity of Heriot Row to see poor Lady Don; left my card as she does not receive any one. I am glad this painful meeting is adjourned. I received to-day 10 from Blackwood for the article on _The Omen_. Time was I would not have taken these small t.i.thes of mint and c.u.mmin, but scornful dogs will eat dirty puddings, and I, with many depending on me, must do the best I can with my time--G.o.d help me!
[_Blair-Adam_,] _June_ 24.--Left Edinburgh yesterday after the Court, half-past twelve, and came over here with the Lord Chief-Baron and William Clerk, to spend as usual a day or two at Blair-Adam. In general, this is a very gay affair. We hire a light coach-and-four, and scour the country in every direction in quest of objects of curiosity. But the Lord Chief-Commissioner"s family misfortunes and my own make our holiday this year of a more quiet description than usual, and a sensible degree of melancholy hangs on the reunion of our party. It was wise, however, not to omit it, for to slacken your hold on life in any agreeable point of connection is the sooner to reduce yourself to the indifference and pa.s.sive vegetation of old age.
_June_ 25.--Another melting day; thermometer at 78 even here. 80 was the height yesterday at Edinburgh. If we attempt any active proceeding we dissolve ourselves into a dew. We have lounged away the morning creeping about the place, sitting a great deal, and walking as little as might be on account of the heat.
Blair-Adam has been successively in possession of three generations of persons attached to and skilled in the art of embellishment, and may be fairly taken as a place where art and taste have done a great deal to improve nature. A long ridge of varied ground sloping to the foot of the hill called Benarty, and which originally was of a bare, mossy, boggy character, has been clothed by the son, father, and grandfather; while the undulations and hollows, which seventy or eighty years since must have looked only like wrinkles in the black mora.s.ses, being now drained and limed, are skirted with deep woods, particularly of spruce, which thrives wonderfully, and covered with excellent gra.s.s. We drove in the droskie and walked in the evening.
_June_, 26.--Another day of unmitigated heat; thermometer 82; must be higher in Edinburgh, where I return to-night, when the decline of the sun makes travelling practicable. It will be well for my work to be there--not quite so well for me; there is a difference between the clean, nice arrangement of Blair-Adam and Mrs. Brown"s accommodations, though he who is insured against worse has no right to complain of them.
But the studious neatness of poor Charlotte has perhaps made me fastidious. She loved to see things clean, even to Oriental scrupulosity. So oddly do our deep recollections of other kinds correspond with the most petty occurrences of our life.
Lord Chief-Baron told us a story of the ruling pa.s.sion strong in death.
A Master in Chancery was on his deathbed--a very wealthy man. Some occasion of great urgency occurred in which it was necessary to make an affidavit, and the attorney, missing one or two other Masters, whom he inquired after, ventured to ask if Mr. ------ would be able to receive the deposition. The proposal seemed to give him momentary strength; his clerk sent for, and the oath taken in due form, the Master was lifted up in bed, and with difficulty subscribed the paper; as he sank down again, he made a signal to his clerk--"Wallace."--"Sir?"--"Your ear--lower--lower. Have you got the _half-crown_?" He was dead before morning.
[_Edinburgh_,] _June_ 27.--Returned to Edinburgh late last night, and had a most sweltering night of it. This day also cruel hot. However, I made a task or nearly so, and read a good deal about the Egyptian Expedition. Had comfortable accounts of Anne, and through her of Sophia.
Dr. Shaw doubts if anything is actually the matter with poor Johnnie"s back. I hope the dear child will escape deformity, and the infirmities attending that helpless state. I have myself been able to fight up very well, notwithstanding my lameness, but it has cost great efforts, and I am besides very strong. Dined with Colin Mackenzie; a fine family all growing up about him, turning men and women, and treading fast on our heels. Some thunder and showers which I fear will be but partial.
Hot--hot--hot.