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Walter Scott - The Man Behind the Books. Walter Scott
Читать онлайн.Название Walter Scott - The Man Behind the Books
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isbn 9788075833617
Автор произведения Walter Scott
Жанр Документальная литература
Издательство Bookwire
January 30. — Snow deep, which makes me alter my purpose of going to town tomorrow. For to-day, my friends must amuse themselves as they can.
January 31 [to February 9, Edinburgh]. — Retain my purpose, however, and set out for Edinburgh alone — that is, no one but my servant. The snow became impassable, and in Edinburgh I remain immovably fixed for ten days — that is, till Wednesday — never once getting out of doors, save to dinner, when I went and returned in a sedan chair. I commenced my quarantine in Mackenzie’s Hotel, where I was deadly cold, and it was tolerably noisy. The second day Mr. Cadell made a point of my coming to his excellent house, where I had no less excellent an apartment and the most kind treatment — - that is, not making a show of me, for which I was in but bad tune. The physical folks, Abercrombie and Ross, bled me with cupping-glasses, purged me confoundedly, and restricted me of all creature comforts. But they did me good, as I am sure they meant to do sincerely; and I got rid of a giddy feeling, which I have been plagued with, and have certainly returned much better. I did not neglect my testamentary affairs. I executed my last will, leaving Walter burdened, by his own choice, with £1000 to Sophia, and another received at her marriage, and £2000 to Anne, and the same to Charles. He is to advance them money if they want it; if not, to pay them interest, which is his own choice, otherwise I would have sold the books and rattletraps. I have made provisions for clearing my estate by my publications, should it be possible; and should that prove possible, from the time of such clearance being effected, to be a fund available to all my children who shall be alive or leave representatives. My bequests must, many of them, seem hypothetical; but the thing, being uncertain, must be so stated.
Besides, during the unexpected stay in town, I employed Mr. Fortune, an ingenious artist, to make a machine to assist my lame leg, — an odd enough purchase to be made at this time of day, yet who would not purchase ease? I dined with the Lord Chief Commissioner, with the Skenes twice, with Lord Medwyn, and was as happy as anxiety about my daughter would permit me.
The appearance of the streets was most desolate: the hackney-coaches, with four horses, strolling about like ghosts, the foot-passengers few but the lowest of the people.
I wrote a good deal of Count Robert, yet I cannot tell why my pen stammers egregiously, and I write horridly incorrect. I long to have friend Laidlaw’s assistance.
February
February 9,[Abbotsford]. — A heavy and most effective thaw coming on I got home about five at night, and found the haugh covered with water, dogs, pigs, cows, to say nothing of human beings, all who slept at the offices in danger of being drowned. They came up to the mansion-house about midnight, with such various clamour, that Anne thought the house was attacked by Captain Swing and all the Radicals.
February 10. — I set to work with Mr. Laidlaw, and had after that a capital ride; my pony, little used, was somewhat frisky, but I rode on to Huntly Burn. Began my diet on my new régime, and like it well, especially porridge to supper. It is wonderful how old tastes rise.
February 11. — Wrought again to-day, and John Swanston walked with me. Wrote many letters, and sent copy to Ballantyne. Rode as usual. It is well enough to ride every day, but confoundedly tiresome to write it down.
February 13. — I did not ask down Mr. Laidlaw, thinking it fair to spare his Sunday. I had a day of putting to rights, a disagreeable work which must be done. I took the occasion to tell Mr. Cadell that Malachi will break forth again; but I will not make a point of it with him. I do not fear there will be as many to strike up as to strike down, and I have a strong notion we may gain the day. I have a letter from the Duchess of Wellington, asking a copy of Melville’s Memoirs. She shall have it if it were my last.
February 14. — I had hardly begun my letter to Mr. Cadell than I began also to “pull in resolution.” I considered that I had no means of retreat; and that in all my sober moments, meaning my unpassionate ones, for the doctors have taken from me the means of producing Dutch courage, I have looked on political writing as a false step, and especially now when I have a good deal at stake. So, upon the whole, I cancelled the letter announcing the publication. If this was actually meanness it is a foible nobody knows of. Anne set off for Edinburgh after breakfast. Poor girl, she is very nervous. I wrote with Mr. L. till one — then had a walk till three — then wrote this diary till four. Must try to get something for Mr. Laidlaw, for I am afraid I am twaddling. I do not think my head is weakened, but a strange vacillation makes me suspect. Is it not thus that men begin to fail, becoming, as it were, infirm of purpose,
“… that way madness lies; let me shun that:
No more of that …”
Yet, why be a child about it? what must be, will be.
February 15. — I wrote and corrected through the long day till one o’clock; then rode out as far as Dr. Scott’s, and called on him. Got a fresh dose of proofs at Mathieson’s, and returned home. At nine o’clock at night had a card from Miss Bell [Maclachlan], wishing to speak to me about some Highland music. Wrote for answer I knew nothing of the matter, but would be happy to see Mrs. and Miss Bell to breakfast. I had a letter of introduction by Robert Chambers, which I declined, being then unwell. But as Trotter of Braid said, “The ladies maun come.”
February 16. — Mrs. and Miss Bell Maclachlan of the West Highlands, mother and daughter, made their way to me to breakfast. I did not wish to see them, being strangers; but she is very pretty — that is, the daughter — and enthusiastic, and that is always flattering to an old gentleman. She wishes to have words to Celtic melodies, and I have promised her some, to the air of Crochallan, and incline to do her good, perhaps, to the extent of getting her words from Lord Francis Leveson Gower, Lockhart, and one or two others. We parted, she pleased with my willing patronage, and I with an uncommon handsome countenance she showed me.
This detained Mr. Laidlaw re infecta, and before I had written a page the pony came to the door; but wrote something after dinner.
February 17 and 18. — We had the usual course of food, study, and exercise in the forenoon. Was extremely sleepy in the afternoon, which made, I fear, but bad work. We progress, however. In riding met Sir Adam Ferguson, and asked him and his brother the Colonel to dinner tomorrow. Wrote in the meantime as usual.
February 19. — Plagued by the stay for leg starting a screw bolt, which is very inconvenient. Sent off, this morning, proofs as far as end of first volume, and 20 manuscript pages, equal to about a quarter of the second. Is it good or not? I cannot say. I think it better as it goes on; and so far so good. I am certain I have written worse abomination, as John Ballantyne, poor fellow, used to say.
February 20. — Wrote five pages this morning; then rode out to the hill and looked at some newly planted, rather transplanted, trees. Mr. Laidlaw gone for the day. I trust I shall have proofs to correct. In the meantime I may suck my paws and prepare some copy, or rather assemble the raw material.
February 21. — I made up parcels by mail-coach and Blucher to go tomorrow — second volume Redgauntlet. At one fetched a walk through wet and dry, looking at the ravages of the late flood. After I came in, till two hours after tea-time, busied with the Sheriff Court processes, which I have nearly finished. After this I will lounge over my annotating. The Tales of the Crusades come next.
February 22. — Wrought with Mr. L. from ten to three, then took the pony carriage, with the purpose of going to Chiefswood, but a heavy squall came on with snow, so we put about-ship and returned. Read Lyttelton’s History of England to get some notes for Crusaders, vol. i. After dinner Mr. Laidlaw from six to eight. Sent off six pages.