LITMIR.BIZ

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long as the seven sleepers. The rest was labour and letters till bed-time.

       June 3. — The ugly symptoms still continue. Dr. Ross does not make much of it, and I think he is apt to look grave. I wrote in the morning. Dr. Macintosh Mackay came to breakfast, and brought a Gaelic book, which he has published — the Poetry of Rob Donn — some of which seems pretty as he explained it. Court kept me till near two, and then home comes I. Afternoon and evening was spent as usual. In the evening Dr. Ross ordered me to be cupped, an operation which I only knew from its being practised by that eminent medical practitioner the barber of Bagdad. It is not painful; and, I think, resembles a giant twisting about your flesh between his finger and thumb.

       June 4. — I was obliged to absent myself from the Court on Dr. Ross’s positive instance; and, what is worse, I was compelled to send an apology to Hopetoun House, where I expected to see Madame Caradori, who was to sing Jock of Hazeldean. I wrote the song for Sophia; and I find my friends here still prefer her to the foreign syren.

      “However, Madame Caradori,

       To miss you I am very sorry,

       I should have taken it for glory

       To have heard you sing my Border story.”

      I worked at the Tales of my Grandfather, but leisurely.

       June 5. — Cadell came to dine with me tête-à-tête, for the girls are gone to Hopetoun House. We had ample matter to converse upon, for his horn was full of good news. While we were at dinner we had letters from London and Ireland, which decided him to raise the impression of Waverley to 15,000. This, with 10,000 on the number line which Ireland is willing to take, will make £18,000 a year of divisible profit. This leads to a further speculation, as I said, of great importance. Longman & Co. have agreed to sell their stock on hand of the Poetry, in which they have certain shares, their shares included, for £8000. Cadell thinks he could, by selling off at cheap rates, sorting, making waste, etc., get rid of the stock for about £5000, leaving £3000 for the purchase of the copyrights, and proposes to close the bargain as much cheaper as he can, but at all events to close it. Whatever shall fall short of the price returned by the stock, the sale of which shall be entirely at his risk, shall be reckoned as the price of the copyright, and we shall pay half of that balance. I had no hesitation in authorising him to proceed in his bargain with Owen Rees of Longman’s house upon that principle. For supposing, according to Cadell’s present idea, the loss on the stock shall amount to £2000 or £3000, the possession of the entire copyright undivided would enable us, calculating upon similar success to that of the Novels, to make at least £500 per cent. Longman & Co. have indeed an excellent bargain, but then so will we. We pay dear indeed for what the ostensible subject of sale is, but if it sets free almost the whole of our copyrights, and places them in our own hands, we get a most valuable quid pro quo. There is only onefourth, I think, of Marmion in Mr. Murray’s hands, and it must be the deuce if that cannot be [secured]. Mr. Cadell proposed that, as he took the whole books on his risk, he ought to have compensation, and that it should consist in the sum to be given to me for arranging and making additions to the volumes of Poetry thus to be republished. I objected to this, for in the first place he may suffer no loss, for the books may go off more rapidly than he thinks or expects. In the second place, I do not know what my labours in the Poetry may be. In either case it is a blind bargain; but if he should be a sufferer beyond the clear half of the loss, which we agree to share with him, I agreed to make him some compensation, and he is willing to take what I shall think just; so stands our bargain. Remained at home and wrote about four pages of Tales. I should have done more, but my head, as Squire Sullen says, “aiked consumedly.” Rees has given Cadell a written offer to be binding till the twelfth; meantime I have written to Lockhart to ask John Murray if he will treat for the fourth share of Marmion, which he possesses. It can be worth but little to him, and gives us all the copyrights. I have a letter from Sir Thomas Dick Lauder, touching a manuscript of Messrs. Hay Allan called the Vestiarium Scotiæ by a Sir Richard Forrester. If it is an imposition it is cleverly done, but I doubt the quarter it comes from. These Hay Allans are men of warm imaginations. It makes the strange averment that all the LowCountry gentlemen and border clans wore tartan, and gives sets of them all. I must see the manuscript before I believe in it. The Allans are singular men, of much accomplishment but little probity — that is, in antiquarian matters. Cadell lent me £10, — funny enough, after all our grand expectations, for Croesus to want such a gratility!

       June 7. — I rose at seven, and wrote to Sir Thomas Lauder a long warning on the subject of these Allans and their manuscript. Proceeded to write, but found myself pulled up by the necessity of reading a little. This occupied my whole morning. The Lord President called very kindly to desire me to keep at home tomorrow. I thought of being out, but it may be as well not. I am somehow or other either listless or lazy. My head aches cruelly. I made a fight at reading and working till eleven, and then came sleep with a party-coloured [mantle] of fantastic hues, and wrapt me into an imaginary world.

       June, 8. — I wrote the whole morning till two o’clock. Then I went into the gardens of Princes Street, to my great exhilaration. I never felt better for a walk; also it is the first I have taken this whole week and more. I visited some remote garden grounds, where I had not been since I walked there with the good Samaritan Skene, sadly enough, at the time of my misfortunes. The shrubs and young trees, which were then invisible, are now of good size, and gay with leaf and blossom. I, too, old trunk as I am, have put out tender buds of hope, which seemed checked for ever.

      I may now look with fair hope to freeing myself of obligation from all men, and spending the rest of my life in ease and quiet. God make me thankful for so cheering a prospect!

       June 9. — I wrote in the morning, set out for a walk at twelve o’clock as far as Mr. Cadell’s. I found him hesitating about his views, and undecided about the Number plan. He thinks the first plan answers so much beyond expectation it is a pity to interfere with it, and talks of re-engraving the plates. This would be touchy, but nothing is resolved on.

      Anne had a little party, where Lady Charlotte Bury, Lady Hopetoun, and others met the Caradori, who sung to us very kindly. She sung Jock of Hazeldean very well, and with a peculiar expression of humour. Sandie Ballantyne kindly came and helped us with fiddle and flageolet. Willie Clerk was also here. We had a lunch, and were very gay, not the less so for the want of Mr. Bury, who is a thorough-paced coxcomb, with some accomplishments, however. I drank two glasses of champagne, which have muddled my brains for the day. Will Clerk promised to come back and dine on the wreck of the turkey and tongue, pigeon-pie, etc. He came, accordingly, and stayed till nine; so no time for work. It was not a lost day, however.

       June 10. — Nota bene, my complaint quite gone. I attended the Court, and sat there till late. Evening had its lot of labour, which is, I think, a second nature to me. It is astonishing how little I look into a book of entertainment. I have been reading over the Five Nights of St. Albans, — very much extra mœnia nostri mundi, and possessed of considerable merit, though the author loves to play at cherry-pit with Satan.

       June 11. — I was kept at Court by a hearing till near three. Then sat to Mr. Graham for an hour and a half. When I came home, behold a letter from Mr. Murray, very handsomely yielding up the fourth share of Marmion, which he possessed. Afterwards we went to the theatre, where St. Ronan’s Well was capitally acted by Murray and the Bailie, — the part of Clara Mowbray being heavy for want of Mrs. Siddons. Poor old Mrs. Renaud, once the celebrated Mrs. Powell, took leave of the stage. As I was going to bed at twelve at night, in came R.P.Gillies like a tobacco cask. I shook him off with some difficulty, pleading my having been lately ill, but he is to call tomorrow morning.

       June 12. — Gillies made his appearance. I told him frankly I thought he conducted his affairs too irregularly for any one to assist him, and I could not in charity advise any one to encourage subscriptions, but that I should subscribe myself, so I made over to him about £50, which the Foreign Review owes me, and I will grow hardhearted and do no more. I was not long in the Court, but I had to look at the controversy about the descent of the Douglas family, then I went to Cadell and found him still cock-a-hoop. He has raised

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