[442] Scott sent a biographical notice of the Duke of York to the _Weekly Journal_ on this day. It is now included in the _Misc. Prose Works_, vol. iv. pp. 400-416.

[443] Gifford's _Maeviad_, 12mo, Lond. 1797; Ode to Rev. John Ireland, slightly altered.

[444] William Gifford, editor of the _Anti-Jacobin_ in 1797, and the _Quarterly_ from 1809 to 1824. His political opponent, Leigh Hunt, wrote of him in 1812:--

'William Gifford's a name, I think, pretty well known.

Oh! now I remember,' said Phoebus;--'ah true-- My thanks to that name are undoubtedly due.

The rod that got rid of the Cruscas and Lauras, That plague of the b.u.t.terflies saved me the horrors, The Juvenal too stops a gap in my shelf, At least in what Dryden has not done himself, _And there's something which even, distaste must respect In the self-taught example that conquered neglect_.'--_Feast of the Poets_.

[445] See _Miscell. Prose Works_, vol. iv. pp. 120-70.

[446] James Ferrier, Esq.--See p. 103, February 3. 1826.

[447] _See Midsummer Night's Dream_; a parody on Helena's

"O weary night O long and tedious night."

[448] John James Audubon was born in Louisiana in the United States in 1780, but educated in France.--Buchanan's _Life of Audubon_, p. 4.

[449] Written by Mrs. J. Johnstone, in after years editor of _Tait's Magazine_, well known also as the author of _Meg Dods' Cookery Book_, which Sir Walter refers to in _St. Ronan's Well_. Her sense of humour and power of delineating character are shown in her stories and sketches in _Tait_, and a good example of her ready wit has been told by Mr.

Alexander Russel, editor of the _Scotsman_. On a visit to Altrive Mrs.

Johnstone and her party were kindly received by the Ettrick Shepherd, who did the honours of the district, and among other places took them to a Fairy Well, from which he drew a gla.s.s of sparkling water. Handing it to the lady the bard of Kilmeny said, "Hae, Mrs. Johnstone, ony merrit wumman wha drinks a tumbler of this will hae twuns in a twalmont'!" "In that case, Mr. Hogg," replied the lady, "I shall only take half a tumbler."

Mrs. Johnstone died in Edinburgh in 1857.

[450] Slightly varied from the lines in _Ruth_,--Poems, vol. ii. p. 112, Edinburgh, 1836.

[451] John Russell (a grandson of Princ.i.p.al Robertson), long Chief Clerk in the Jury Court, and Treasurer to the Royal Society and the Edinburgh Academy. He took a keen interest in education, and published in October 1855 some curious _Statistics of a Cla.s.s_ [Christison's] _in the High School_ [of Edinburgh] from 1787 to 1791, of which he had been a member.

Mr. Russell died on January 30, 1862.

[452] Leonard Horner, editor in after years of the Memoirs of his brother Francis (2 vols. 8vo, London, 1843). He died in 1864.

[453] See _Report by the Directors to the Proprietors of the Edinburgh Academy on the p.r.o.nunciation of Latin_, Edin. 1827. Sir Walter always took a warm interest in the school. His speech as Chairman at the opening ceremony, on the 1st October 1824, is quoted in the _Life_, vol.

vii. p. 268.

[454] Burnt at Edinburgh in 1670.--See Arnot's _Crim. Trials_. 4to, Edin. 1785.

[455] Afterwards Sir John Rennie, knighted on the completion of the Bridge.

[456] See _ante_, p. 307, and _post_, p. 359.

[457] Dr. Marshman died in 1837. See Marshman's _Lives of Carey, Marshman, and Ward_. London, 2 vols. 8vo, 1859.

[458] John Menzies of Pitfoddels, the last of an old Aberdeenshire family, of whom it was said that for thirty-seven years he never became aware of distress or difficulty without exerting himself to relieve it.

In 1828 he gave the estate of Blairs, near Aberdeen, for the foundation of the Roman Catholic College established there, and was also a munificent benefactor to the Convent of St. Margaret, Edinburgh, opened in 1835. Mr. Menzies died in 1843.

FEBRUARY.

_February_ 1.--I feel a return of the cursed rheumatism. How could it miss, with my wetting? Also feverish, and a slight headache. So much for claret and champagne. I begin to be quite unfit for a good fellow. Like Mother Cole in the _Minor_, a thimbleful upsets me,[459]--I mean, annoys my stomach, for my brains do not suffer. Well, I have had my time of these merry doings.

"The haunch of the deer, and the wine's red dye, Never bard loved them better than I."

But it was for the sake of sociality; never either for the flask or the venison. That must end--is ended. The evening sky of life does not reflect those brilliant flashes of light that shot across its morning and noon. Yet I thank G.o.d it is neither gloomy nor disconsolately lowering; a sober twilight--that is all.

I am in great hopes that the Bannatyne Club, by the a.s.sistance of Thomson's wisdom, industry, and accuracy, will be something far superior to the Dilettanti model on which it started. The _Historie of K. James VI._, _Melville's Memoirs_, and other works, executed or in hand, are decided boons to Scottish history and literature.

_February_ 2.--In confirmation of that which is above stated, I see in Thorpe's sale-catalogue a set of the Bannatyne books, lacking five, priced 25. Had a dry walk from the Court by way of dainty, and made it a long one. Anne went at night to Lady Minto's.

Hear of Miss White's death. Poor Lydia! she had a party at dinner on the Friday before, and had written with her own hand invitations for another party. Twenty years ago she used to tease me with her youthful affectations--her dressing like the Queen of Chimney-sweeps on May-day morning, and sometimes with rather a free turn in conversation, when she let her wit run wild. But she was a woman of much wit, and had a feeling and kind heart. She made her point good, a _bas-bleu_ in London to a point not easily attained, and contrived to have every evening a very good literary _melee_, and little dinners which were very entertaining.

She had also the newest lions upon town. In a word, she was not and would not be forgotten, even when disease obliged her, as it did for years, to confine herself to her couch; and the world, much abused for hard-heartedness, was kind in her case--so she lived in the society she liked. No great expenditure was necessary for this. She had an easy fortune, but not more. Poor Lydia! I saw the Duke of York and her in London, when Death, it seems, was brandishing his dart over them.[460]

"The view o't gave them little fright."[461]

Did not get quite a day's work finished to-day, thanks to my walk.

_February_ 3.--There is nought but care on every hand. James Hogg writes that he is to lose his farm,[462] on which he laid out, or rather threw away, the profit of all his publications.

Then Terry has been pressed by Gibson for my debt to him. That I may get managed.

I sometimes doubt if I am in what the good people call the right way.

Not to sing my own praises, I have been willing always to do my friends what good was in my power, and have not shunned personal responsibility.

But then that was in money matters, to which I am naturally indifferent, unless when the consequences press on me. But then I am a bad comforter in case of inevitable calamity; and feeling proudly able to endure in my own case, I cannot sympathise with those whose nerves are of a feebler texture.

Dined at Jeffrey's, with Lord and Lady Minto, John Murray and his lady,[463] a Mr. Featherstone, an Americo-Yorkshireman, and some others.

Mrs. Murray is a very amiable person, and seems highly accomplished; plays most brilliantly.

_February_ 4.--R.R. These two letters, you must understand, do not signify, as in Bibliomania phrase, a double degree of rarity, but, chirurgically, a double degree of rheumatism. The wine gets to weak places, Ross says. I have a letter from no less a person than that pink of booksellers, Sir Richard Phillips, who, it seems, has been ruined, and as he sees me floating down the same dark tide, sings out his _nos poma natamus_.

_February_ 5.--R. One R. will do to-day. If this cursed rheumatism gives way to February weather, I will allow she has some right to be called a spring month, to which otherwise her pretensions are slender. I worked this morning till two o'clock, and visited Mr. Grant's[464] pictures, who has them upon sale. They seem, to my inexperienced eye, genuine, or at least, good paintings. But I fear picture-buying, like horse-jockeyship, is a profession a gentleman cannot make much of without laying aside some of his attributes. The pictures are too high-priced, I should think, for this market. There is a very knowing catalogue by Frank Grant himself. Next went to see a show of wild beasts; it was a fine one. I think they keep them much cleaner than formerly, when the strong smell generally gave me a headache for the day. The creatures are also much tamer, which I impute to more knowledge of their habits and kind treatment. A lion and tigress went through their exercise like poodles--jumping, standing, and lying down at the word of command. This is rather degrading. I would have the Lord Chancellor of Beasts good-humoured, not jocose. I treated the elephant, who was a n.o.ble fellow, to a shilling's worth of cakes. I wish I could have enlarged the s.p.a.ce in which so much bulk and wisdom is confined. He kept swinging his head from side to side, looking as if he marvelled why all the fools that gaped at him were at liberty, and he cooped up in the cage.

Dined at the Royal Society Club--about thirty present. Went to the Society in the evening, and heard an essay by Peter Tytler[465] on the first encourager of Greek learning in England.[466]

_February_ 6.--Was at Court till two; afterwards wrote a good deal, which has become a habit with me. Dined at Sir John Hay's, where met the Advocate and a pleasant party. There had been a Justiciary trial yesterday, in which something curious had occurred. A woman of rather the better cla.s.s, a farmer's wife, had been tried on the 5th for poisoning her maid-servant. There seems to have been little doubt of her guilt, but the motive was peculiar. The unfortunate girl had an intrigue with her son, which this Mrs. Smith (I think that is the name) was desirous to conceal, from some ill-advised puritanic notions, and also for fear of her husband. She could find no better way of hiding the shame than giving the girl (with her own knowledge and consent, I believe) potions to cause abortion, which she afterwards changed for a.r.s.enic, as the more effectual silencing medicine. In the course of the trial one of the jury fell down in an epileptic fit, and on his recovery was far too much disordered to permit the trial to proceed. With only fourteen jurymen it was impossible to go on. But the Advocate, Sir William Rae, says she shall be tried anew, since she has not tholed an a.s.size. _Sic Paulus ait_--_et recte quidem._ But, having been half tried, I think she should have some benefit of it, as far as saving her life, if convicted on the second indictment. The Advocate declares, however, she shall be hanged, as certainly she deserves. But it looks something like hanging up a man who has been recovered by the surgeons, which has always been accounted harsh justice.

_February_ 7.--Wrote six leaves to-day, and am tired--that's all.

_February_ 8.--I lost much time to-day. I got from the Court about half-past twelve, therefore might have reckoned on four hours, or three at least, before dinner. But I had to call on Dr. Shortt at two, which made me lounge till that hour came. Then I missed him, and, too tired to return, went to see the exhibition, where Skene was hanging up the pictures, and would not let me in. Then to the Oil Gas Company, who propose to send up counsel to support their new bill. As I thought the choice unadvisedly made, I fairly opposed the mission, which, I suppose, will give much offence; but I have no notion of being shamefaced in doing my duty, and I do not think I should permit forward persons to press into situations for which their vanity alone renders them competent. Had many proof-sheets to correct in the evening.

_February_ 9.--We had a long day of it at Court, but I whipped you off half-a-dozen of letters, for, as my cases stood last on the roll, I could do what I liked in the interim. This carried me on till two o'clock. Called on Baron Hume, and found him, as usual, in high spirits, notwithstanding his late illness. Then crept home--my rheumatism much better, though. Corrected lives of Lord Somerville and the King [George III.][467] for the Prose Works, which took a long time; but I had the whole evening to myself, as Anne dined with the Swintons, and went to a ball at the Justice-Clerk's. _N.B._--It is the first and only ball which has been given this season--a sign the times are pinching.

_February_ 10.--I got a present of Lord Francis Gower's printed but unpublished _Tale of the Mill._[468] It is a fine tale of terror in itself, and very happily brought out. He has certainly a true taste for poetry. I do not know why, but from my childhood I have seen something fearful, or melancholy at least, about a mill. Whether I had been frightened at the machinery when very young, of which I think I have some shadowy recollection--whether I had heard the stories of the miller of Thirlestane[469] and similar molendinar tragedies, I cannot tell; but not even recollection of the La.s.s of Patie's Mill, or the Miller of Mansfield, or he who "dwelt on the river Dee," have ever got over my inclination to connect gloom with a mill, especially when sun is setting. So I entered into the spirit of the terror with which Lord Francis has invested his haunted spot. I dine with the Solicitor to-day, so _quoad_ labour 'tis a blank. But then to-morrow is a new day.