[398] Lauriston, the ancient seat of the Laws, so famous in French history, is very near Edinburgh, and the estate was in their possession at the time of the Revolution. Two or three cadets of the family were of the first emigration, and one of them (M. Louis Law) was a frequent guest of the Poet's father, and afterwards corresponded during many years with himself. I am not sure whether it was M. Louis Law whose French designation so much amused the people of Edinburgh. One brother of the Marquis de Lauriston, however, was styled _Le Chevalier de Mutton-hole_, this being the name of a village on the Scotch property.--J.G.L.

[399] The Madame de Boufflers best known to the world [Hippolyte de Saujon Comtesse de Boufflers], the correspondent not only of Walpole, but of David Hume, must have been nearer a hundred than eighty years of age at this date, if we are to believe the _Biographie Universelle_, which gives 1724 as the date of her birth. It does not record her death.

It is known that she took refuge in England during the Revolution; but Count Paul de Remusat, who has been consulted on the subject, has kindly pointed out that the lady of whom Scott speaks must have been the widow of the Chevalier de Boufflers-Remencourt, known by his poems and stories. Her maiden name was de Jean de Manville, and her first husband was a Comte de Sabran. She died in 1827.--See _Correspondance inedite de la Comtesse de Sabran_, Paris, 8vo, 1875.

[400] Readers who may wish to compare with the visit of 1826 Scott's impressions of Paris in 1815 will find a brilliant record of the latter in _Paul's Letters_, xii.-xvi.

[401] A Sunday newspaper started in 1820, to advocate the cause of George IV., and to vilify the Queen and her friends, male and female.

The first number was published on December 17th, and "told at once from the convulsed centre to the extremity of the Kingdom. There was talent of every sort in the paper that could have been desired or devised for such a purpose. It seemed as if a legion of sarcastic devils had brooded in Synod over the elements of withering derision." Hook, however, was the master spirit, the majority of the lampoons in prose, and all the original poetry in the early volumes from the "Hunting the Hare," were from his own pen, except, perhaps, "Michael's Dinner," which has been laid at Canning's door.

Oddly enough Scott appears to have been the indirect means of placing Hook in the editorial chair. When he was in London, in April 1820, a n.o.bleman called upon him, and asked if he could find him in Edinburgh some clever fellow to undertake the editorship of a paper about to be established. Sir Walter suggested that his Lordship need not go so far a-field, described Hook's situation, and the impression he had received of him from his table talk, and his Magazine, the _Arcadian_. This was all that occurred, but when, towards the end of the year, _John Bull_ electrified London, Sir Walter confessed that he could not help fancying that his mentioning this man's name had had its consequences.

Hook, in spite of his 2000 per annum for several years from _John Bull_, and large prices received for his novels, died in poverty in 1841, a prematurely aged man. His sad story may be read in a most powerful sketch in the _Quarterly Review_, attributed to Mr. Lockhart.

[402] See Beckford's _Vathek_, Hall of Eblis.

[403] Lady Stafford says: "We were so lucky as to have Sir W. Scott here for a day, and were glad to see him look well, and though perfectly unaltered by his successes, yet enjoying the satisfaction they must have given him."--Sharpe's _Letters_, vol. ii. p. 379.

[404] The Right Hon. Thomas Grenville died in 1846 at the age of ninety-one. He left his n.o.ble collection of books to the nation.

[405] The Right Hon. Charles Manners Sutton, afterwards Viscount Canterbury. He died in 1845.

[406] Mrs. Arbuthnot was Harriet, third daughter of the Hon. H. Fane, and wife of Charles Arbuthnot, a great friend of the Duke of Wellington.

She died in 1838, Mr. Arbuthnot in 1850.

[407] Sir Walter had recommended George Cranstoun, his early friend, one of the brethren of _the mountain_, who succeeded Lord Hermand, and took his seat on the Scotch bench before the end of the month. The appointment satisfied both political parties, though c.o.c.kburn said that "his removal was a great loss to the bar which he had long adorned, and where he had the entire confidence of the public." An admirable sketch of Cranstoun is given in No. 32 of _Peter's Letters_. He retired in 1839, and died at Corehouse, his picturesque seat on the Clyde, in 1850.

[408] This striking paper was afterwards printed in full under the t.i.tle, "Memorandum on the War in Russia in 1812," in the _Despatches_ edited by his Son (Dec. 1823 to May 1827), Murray, 1868, vol. i. 8vo, pp. 1-53. Sir Walter Scott's letter to the Duke on the subject is given at p. 590 of the same volume, and see this Journal under Feb. 15, 1827.

[409] In returning from this dinner Sir Walter said, "I have seen some of these great men at the same table _for the last time_."--J.G.L.

[410] Mr. William Wright, Barrister, Lincoln's Inn.--See _Life_, vol.

viii. p. 84.

[411] Milton's _L'Allegro._--J.G.L.

[412] A murder committed in 1817. The accused claimed the privilege of _Wager of Battle_, which was allowed by the Court for the last time, as the law was abolished in 1819.--See _Notes and Queries_, 2d series, vol.

xi. pp. 88, 259, 317, and p. 431 for a curious account of the bibliography of this very singular case.

[413] _Oth.e.l.lo_,--J.G.L.

[414] Sir Walter no doubt means that he regretted not having seen the Duke at an earlier period of his historical labours.--J.G.L.

[415] See Weber's _Tales of the East_, 3 vols. 8vo, Edin. 1812. _History of Avicene_, vol. ii. pp. 452-457.

[416] Dr. Richard Jenkyns, Master of Balliol College.--J.G.L.

[417] Charles Douglas succeeded his brother, Baron Douglas of Douglas, in 1844.

[418]

"But of all friends in field or town, Ever gramercy," etc.

_Dame Juliana Berners_.

[419] A furnished house in Walker Street which he had taken for the winter (No. 3).

DECEMBER

_December_ 1[420].--The Court again very long in its sitting, and I obliged to remain till the last. This is the more troublesome, as in winter, with my worn-out eyes, I cannot write so well by candle-light.

Naboclish! when I am quite blind, _good-night to you_, as the one-eyed fellow said when a tennis ball knocked out his remaining luminary. My short residue of time before dinner was much cut up by calls--all old friends, too, and men whom I love; but this makes the loss of time more galling, that one cannot and dare not growl at those on whom it has been bestowed. However, I made out two hours better than I expected. I am now once more at my oar, and I will row hard.

_December_ 2.--Returned early from Court, but made some calls by the way. Dined alone with Anne, and meant to have worked, but--I don't know how--this horrid story stuck by me, so I e'en read Boutourlin's account of the Moscow campaign to eschew the foul fiend.

_December_ 3.--Wrote five pages before dinner. Sir Thomas Brisbane and Sir William Arbuthnot called, also John A. Murray. William dined with us, all vivid with his Italian ideas, only Jane besides. Made out five pages, I think, or nearly.

_December_ 4.--Much colded, which is no usual complaint of mine, but worked about five leaves, so I am quite up with my task-work and better.

But my books from Abbotsford have not arrived. Dined with the Royal Society Club--about thirty members present--too many for company. After coffee, the Society were like _Mungo_ in _The Padlock_.[421] I listened, without understanding a single word, to two scientific papers; one about the tail of a comet, and the other about a chucky-stone; besides hearing Basil Hall describe, and seeing him exhibit, a new azimuth. I have half a mind to cut the whole concern; and yet the situation is honourable, and, as Bob Acres says, one should think of their honour. We took possession of our new rooms on the Mound, which are very handsome and gentlemanlike.

_December_ 5.--Annoyed with the cold and its consequences all night, and wish I could shirk the Court this morning. But it must not be. Was kept late, and my cold increased. I have had a regular attack of this for many years past whenever I return to the sedentary life and heated rooms of Edinburgh, which are so different from the open air and constant exercise of the country. Odd enough that during cold weather and cold nocturnal journeys the cold never touched me, yet I am no sooner settled in comfortable quarters and warm well-aired couches, but _la voila_. I made a shift to finish my task, however, and even a leaf more, so we are bang up. We dined and supped alone, and I went to bed early.

_December_ 6.--A bad and disturbed night with fever, headache, and some touch of cholera morbus, which greatly disturbed my slumbers. But I fancy Nature was scouring the gun after her own fashion. I slept little till morning, and then lay abed, contrary to my wont, until half-past nine o'clock, when I came down to breakfast. Went to Court, and returned time enough to write about five leaves. Dined at Skene's, where we met Lord Elgin and Mr. Stewart, a son of Sir M. Shaw Stewart, whom I knew and liked, poor man. Talked among other things and persons of Sir J.

Campbell of Ardkinglas, who is now here.[422] He is happy in escaping from his notorious t.i.tle of Callander of Craigforth. In my youth he was a black-leg and swindler of the first water, and like Pistol did

"Somewhat lean to cut-purse of quick hand."[423]

He was obliged to give up his estate to his son Colonel Callander, a gentleman of honour, and as Dad went to the Continent in the midst of the French Revolution, he is understood to have gone through many scenes. At one time, Lord Elgin a.s.sured us, he seized upon the island of Zante, as he pretended, by direct authority from the English Government, and reigned there very quietly for some months, until, to appease the jealousy of the Turks, Lord Elgin despatched a frigate to dethrone the new sovereign. Afterwards he traversed India in the dress of a fakir. He is now eighty and upwards.

I should like to see what age and adventures have done upon him. I recollect him a very handsome, plausible man. Of all good breeding, that of a swindler (of good education, be it understood) is the most perfect.

_December_ 7.--Again a very disturbed night, scarce sleeping an hour, yet well when I rose in the morning. I did not do above a leaf to-day, because I had much to read. But I am up to one-fourth of the volume, of 400 pages, which I began on the first December current; the 31st must and shall see the end of vol. vi. We dined alone. I had a book sent me by a very clever woman, in defence of what she calls the rights of her s.e.x. Clever, though. I hope she will publish it.

_December_ 8.--Another restless and deplorable Knight--night I should say--faith, either spelling will suit. Returned early, but much done up with my complaint and want of sleep last night. I wrought however, but with two or three long interruptions, my drowsiness being irresistible.

Went to dine with John Murray, where met his brother Henderland, Jeffrey, Harry c.o.c.kburn, Rutherfurd, and others of that file. Very pleasant--capital good cheer and excellent wine--much laugh and fun.

_December_ 9.--I do not know why it is that when I am with a party of my Opposition friends, the day is often merrier than when with our own set.

Is it because they are cleverer? Jeffrey and Harry c.o.c.kburn are, to be sure, very extraordinary men, yet it is not owing to that entirely. I believe both parties meet with the feeling of something like novelty. We have not worn out our jests in daily contact. There is also a disposition on such occasions to be courteous, and of course to be pleased. Wrought all day, but rather dawdled, being abominably drowsy. I fancy it is bile, a visitor I have not had this long time.

_December_ 10.--An uncomfortable and sleepless night; and the lime water a.s.signed to cure me seems far less pleasant, and about as inefficacious as lime punch would be in the circ.u.mstances. I felt main stupid the whole forenoon, and though I wrote my task, yet it was with great intervals of drowsiness and fatigue which made me, as we Scots says, dover away in my arm-chair. Walter and Jane came to dinner, also my Coz Colonel Russell, and above and attour[424] James Ballantyne, poor fellow. We had a quiet and social evening, I acting on prescription.

Well, I have seen the day--but no matter.

_December_ 11.--Slept indifferent well with a feverish halo about me, but no great return of my complaint. It paid it off this morning, however, but the difference was of such consequence that I made an ample day's work, getting over six pages, besides what I may do. On this, the 11th December, I shall have more than one-third of vol. vi. finished, which was begun on the first of this current month. Dined quiet and at home. I must take no more frisks till this fit is over.

"When once life's day draws near the gloaming, Then farewell careless social roaming; And farewell cheerful tankards foaming, And social noise; And farewell dear deluding woman, The joy of joys!"[425]