The Journal of Sir Walter Scott from the Original Manuscript at Abbotsford May, 1829
by Sir Walter Scott
May 1.—Weather more tolerable. I commenced my review on the Duke of
Guise's Expedition,  for my poor correspondent Gillies, with six
leaves. What a curious tale that is of Masaniello! I went to Huntly Burn
in the sociable, and returned on foot, to my great refreshment. Evening
as usual. Ate, drank, smoked, and wrote.
 See Foreign Quarterly Review, vol. iv. p. 355.
May 2.—A pitiful day of rain and wind. Laboured the whole morning at
Gillies's review. It is a fine subject—the Duke of Guise at Naples—and
I think not very much known, though the story of Masaniello is.
I have a letter from Dr. Lardner proposing to me to publish the history
in June. But I dare not undertake it in so short a space, proof-sheets
and all considered; it must be October—no help for it.  Worked
after dinner as usual.
 This short History of Scotland, it was found, could not
be comprised in a single volume, and the publishers handsomely agreed to
give the author £1500 for two volumes, forming the first and fourth
issues of their own Cabinet Cyclopædia, the publication of which was
commenced before the end of the year.
May 3.—The very same diary might serve this day as the last. I sent
off to Gillies half his review, and I wish the other half at Old Nick.
May 4.—A poor young woman came here this morning, well-dressed and
well-behaved, with a strong northern accent. She talked incoherently a
long story of a brother and a lover both dead. I would have kept her
here till I wrote to her friends, particularly to Mr. Sutherland (an
Aberdeen bookseller), to inform them where she is, but my daughter and
her maidens were frightened, as indeed there might be room for it, and
so I sent her in one of Davidson's chaises to the Castle at Jedburgh,
and wrote to Mr. Shortreed to see she is humanely treated. I have
written also to her brother.
"Long shall I see these things forlorn,
And long again their sorrows feel."
The rest was write, walk, eat, smoke; smoke, and write again.
May 5.—A moist rainy day, mild, however, and promising good weather.
I sat at my desk the whole day, and worked at Gillies's review. So was
the day exhausted.
May 6.—I sent off the review. Received the sheets of the Secret
Tribunal from Master Reynolds. Keith Scott, a grandson of James Scott,
my father's cousin-german, came here, a fine lively boy with good
spirits and amiable manners. Just when I had sent off the rest of
Gillies's manuscript, W. Laidlaw came, so I had him for my companion in
a walk which the late weather has prevented for one or two days. Colonel
and Mrs. Ferguson, and Margaret Ferguson, came to dinner, and so passed
May 7.—Captain Percy, brother of Lord Lovaine, and son of Lord
Beverley, came out to dinner. Dr. and Mrs. Brewster met him. He is like
his brother, Lord Lovaine, an amiable, easy, and accomplished man, who
has seen a great deal of service, and roamed about with tribes of
May 8.—Went up Yarrow with Captain Percy, which made a complete day's
idleness, for which I have little apology to offer. I heard at the same
time from the President  that Sir Robert Dundas is very unwell, so I
must be in Edinburgh on Monday 11th. Very disagreeable, now the weather
is becoming pleasant.
 Right Hon. Charles Hope.
May 9.—Captain Percy left us at one o'clock. He has a sense of
humour, and aptness of comprehension which renders him an agreeable
companion. I am sorry his visit has made me a little idle, but there is
no help for it.
I have done everything to-day previous to my going away, but—que
faut-il faire? one must see society now and then, and this is really an
agreeable man. And so, transeat ille. I walked, and was so fatigued as
to sleep, and now I will attack John Lockhart's proof-sheets, of which
he has sent me a revise. In the evening I corrected proofs for the
May 10.—This must be a day of preparation, which I hate; yet it is
but laying aside a few books, and arranging a few papers, and yet my
nerves are fluttered, and I make blunders, and mislay my pen and my
keys, and make more confusion than I can repair. After all, I will try
for once to do it steadily.
Well! I have toiled through it; it is like a ground swell in the sea
that brings up all that is disgusting from the bottom—admonitory
letters—unpaid bills—few of these, thank my stars!—all that one would
wish to forget perks itself up in your face at a thorough redding
up—devil take it, I will get out and cool the fever that this turmoil
has made in my veins! The delightful spring weather conjured down the
evil spirit. I sat a long time with my nerves shaking like a frightened
child, and then laughed at it all by the side of the river, coming back
by the thicket.
May 11, [Edinburgh].—We passed the morning in the little
arrangements previous to our departure, and then returned at night to
Edinburgh, bringing Keith Scott along. This boy's grandfather, James
Scott by name, very clever and particularly well acquainted with Indian
customs and manners. He was one of the first settlers in Prince of Wales
Island. He was an active-minded man, and therefore wrote a great deal. I
have seen a trunkful of his MSS. Unhappily, instead of writing upon some
subject on which he might have conveyed information he took to writing
on metaphysics, andlost both his candles and his labour. I was
consulted about publishing some part of his works; but could not
recommend it. They were shallow essays, with a good deal of infidelity
exhibited. Yet James Scott was a very clever man. He only fell into the
common mistake of supposing that arguments new to him were new to all
others. His son, when I knew him long since in this country, was an
ordinary man enough. This boy seems smart and clever. We reached the
house in the evening; it was comfortable enough considering it had been
shut up for two months. I found a letter from Cadell asserting his
continued hope in the success of the Magnum. I begin to be jealous on
the subject, but I will know to-morrow.
May 12.—Went to Parliament House. Sir Robert Dundas very unwell. Poor
Hamilton on his back with the gout. So was obliged to have the
assistance of Rolland  from the Second Division. Saw Cadell on the
way home. I was right: he had been disappointed in his expectations from
Glasgow and other mercantile places where trade is low at present. But
"Tidings did he bring of Africa and golden joys."
 Adam Rolland, Principal Clerk of Session, a nephew of
Adam Rolland of Gask, who was in some respects the prototype of
Pleydell, and whose face and figure have been made familiar to the
present generation by Raeburn's masterpiece of portraiture, now in the
possession of Miss Abercrombie, Edinburgh.
The Magnum has taken extremely in Ireland, which was little counted
on, and elsewhere. Hence he proposes a new edition of Tales of my
Grandfather, First Series; also an enlargement of the Third Series. All
this drives poverty and pinch, which is so like poverty, from the door.
I visited Lady J.S., and had the pleasure to find her well. I wrote a
little, and got over a place that bothered me. Cadell has apprehensions
of A[nne] of G[eierstein], so have I. Well, the worst of it is,
we must do something better. 
 Sir Walter had written to Mr. Lockhart on 8th
May:—"Anne of Geierstein is concluded; but as I do not like her
myself, I do not expect she will be popular."
As a contrast to the criticisms of the printer and publisher, and a
comment upon the author's own apprehensions, the subjoined extract from
a letter written by Mr. G.P.R. James may be given:—"When I first read
Anne of Geierstein I will own that the multitude of surpassing
beauties which it contained frightened me, but I find that after having
read it the public mind required to be let gently down from the tone of
excitement to which it had been raised, and was contented to pause at my
book (Richelieu), as a man who has been enjoying a fine prospect from
a high hill stops before he reaches the valley to take another look,
though half the beauty be already lost.... You cannot think how I long
to acquit myself of the obligations which I lie under towards you, but I
am afraid that fortune, who has given you both the will and the power to
confer such great favours upon me, has not in any degree enabled me to
aid or assist you in return."
May 13.—Attended the Court, which took up a good deal of time. On my
return saw Sir Robert Dundas, who is better—and expects to be out on
Tuesday. I went to the Highland Society to present Miss Grahame
Stirling's book, being a translation of Gelieu's work on bees, 
which was well received. Went with the girls to dine at Dalhousie
Castle, where we were very kindly received. I saw the Edgewell
Tree,  too fatal, says Allan Ramsay, to the family from which he was
himself descended. I also saw the fatal Coalston Pear,  said to have
been preserved many hundred years. It is certainly a pear either
petrified or turned into wood, with a bit out of one side of it.
 The Bee Preserver, or Practical Directions for the
Management and Preservation of Hives. Translated from the French of J.
De Gelieu. 1829.
 "An oak tree which grows by the side of a fine spring
near the Castle of Dalhousie; very much observed by the country people,
who give out that before any of the family died a branch fell from the
Edgewell Tree. The old tree some few years ago fell altogether, but
another sprang from the same root, which is now  tall and
flourishing; and lang be it sae."—Allan Ramsay's Works, vol. i. p.
329: "Stocks in 1720." 2 vols. 8vo, Lond. 1800.
The tree is still flourishing , and the belief in its sympathy
with the family is not yet extinct, as an old forester, on seeing a
large branch fall from it on a quiet still day in July 1874, exclaimed,
"The laird's deed noo!" and accordingly news came soon after that Fox
Maule, 11th Earl of Dalhousie, had died.
 The Coalstoun Pear was removed from Dalhousie to
Coalstoun House in 1861.
It is a pity to see my old school-companion, this fine true-hearted
nobleman of such an ancient and noble descent, after having followed the
British flag through all quarters of the world, again obliged to resume
his wanderings at a time of life equal, I suppose, to my own. He has
not, however, a grey hair in his head.
May 14.—Left Dalhousie at eight to return here to breakfast, where we
received cold tidings. Walter has had an inflammatory attack, and I fear
it will be necessary to him to return without delay to the Continent. I
have letters from Sophia and Sir Andrew Halliday. The last has been of
the utmost service, by bleeding and advising active measures. How little
one knows to whom they are to be obliged! I wrote to him and to Jane,
recommending the Ionian Islands, where Sir Frederick Adam would, I am
sure, give Walter a post on his staff. The kind old Chief Commissioner
at once interested himself in the matter. It makes me inexpressibly
anxious, yet I have kept up my determination not to let the chances of
fate overcome me like a summer's-cloud.  I wrote four or five pages
of the History to-day, notwithstanding the agitation of my feelings.
 Macbeth, Act III. Sc. 4.
May 15.—Attended the Court, where Mr. Rolland and I had the duty of
the First Division; Sir Robert and Hamilton being both laid up. Dined at
Granton and met Lord and Lady Dalhousie, Sir John Hope, etc. I have
spelled out some work this day, though I have been rather knocked about.
May 16.—After the Court this day I went to vote at the Archers' Hall,
where some of the members had become restive. They were outvoted two to
one. There had been no division in the Royal Body Guard since its
commencement, but these times make divisions everywhere. A letter from
Lockhart brings better news of Walter, but my heart is heavy on the
subject. I went on with my History, how ever, for the point in this
world is to do what we ought, and bear what we must.
Dined at home and wrote in the evening.
May 17.—I never stirred from my seat all this day. My reflections, as
suggested by Walter's illness, were highly uncomfortable; and to divert
it I wrought the whole day, save when I was obliged to stop and lean my
head on my hand. Real affliction, however, has something in it by which
it is sanctified. It is a weight which, however oppressive, may like a
bar of iron be conveniently disposed on the sufferer's person. But the
insubstantiality of a hypochondriac affection is one of its greatest
torments. You have a huge featherbed on your shoulders, which rather
encumbers and oppresses you than calls forth strength and exertion to
bear it. There is something like madness in that opinion, and yet it has
a touch of reality. Heaven help me!
May 18.—I resolved to take exercise to-day, so only wrought till
twelve. I sent off some sheets and copy to Dr. Lardner. I find my
written page goes as better than one to two of his print, so a little
more than one hundred and ninety of my writing will make up the sum
wanted. I sent him off as far as page sixty-two. Went to Mr. Colvin
Smith's at one, and sat for my picture to three. There must be an end of
this sitting. It devours my time.
I wrote in the evening to Walter, James MacCulloch, to Dr. Lardner, and
others, and settled some other correspondence.
May 19.—I went to the Court, and abode there till about one, and in
the Library from one to two, when I was forced to attend a public
meeting about the King's statue. I have no turn for these committees,
and yet I get always jamm'd into them. They take up a cruel deal of time
in a way very unsatisfactory. Dined at home, and wrought hard. I shall
be through the Bruce's reign. It is lengthy; but, hang it, it was our
only halcyon period. I shall be soon done with one-half of the thousand
May 20.—Mr. Cadell breakfasted with us, with a youngster for whom he
wants a letter to the Commander or Governor of Bombay. After breakfast
C. and I had some talk of business. His tidings, like those of ancient
Pistol, are of Africa and golden joys. He is sure of selling at the
starting 8000 copies of the Magnum, at a profit of £70 per 1000—that
is, per month. This seems certain. But he thinks the sale will rise to
12,000, which will be £280 more, or £840 in all. This will tell out a
gross divisible profit of upwards of £25,000. This is not unlikely, but
after this comes a series of twenty volumes at least, which produce only
half that quantity indeed; but then the whole profits, save commissions,
are the author's. That will come to as much as the former, say £50,000
in all. This supposes I carry on the works of fiction for two or three
novels more. But besides all this, Cadell entertains a plan of selling a
cheaper edition by numbers and numbermen, on which he gives half the
selling price. One man, Mr. Ireland, offers to take 10,000 copies of the
Magnum and talks of 25,000. This allows a profit of £50 per thousand
copies, not much worse than the larger copy, and Cadell thinks to carry
on both. I doubt this. I have great apprehension that these interlopers
would disgust the regular trade, with whom we are already deeply
engaged. I also foresee selling the worst copies at the higher price.
All this must be thought and cared for. In the meantime, I see a fund,
from which large payments may be made to the Trustees, capable of
extinguishing the debt, large as it is, in ten years or earlier, and
leaving a reversion to my family of the copyrights. Sweet
bodements —good—but we must not reckon our chickens before they
are hatched, though they are chipping the shell now. We will see how the
 Macbeth, Act IV. Sc. 1.
Dined at a public dinner given to the excellent Lord Dalhousie before
his departure for India. An odd way of testifying respect to public
characters, by eating, drinking, and roaring. The names, however, will
make a good show in the papers. Home at ten. Good news from Sophia and
Walter. I am zealous for the Mediterranean when the season comes, which
may be the beginning of September.
May 21.—This is only the 23d on which I write, yet I have forgotten
anything that has passed on the 21st worthy of note. I wrote a good
deal, I know, and dined at home. The step of time is noiseless as it
passes over an old man. The non est tanti mingles itself with
May 22.—I was detained long in the Court, though Ham. had returned to
his labour. We dined with Captain Basil Hall, and met a Mr. Codman, or
some such name, with his lady from Boston. The last a pleasant and
well-mannered woman, the husband Bostonian enough. We had Sir William
Arbuthnot, besides, and his lady.
By-the-bye, I should have remembered that I called on my old friend,
Lady Charlotte Campbell, and found her in her usual good-humour, though
miffed a little—I suspect at the history of Gillespie Grumach in the
Legend of Montrose. I saw Haining also, looking thin and pale. These
should have gone to the memorandum of yesterday.
May 23.—Went to-day to call on the Commissioner,  and saw, at his
Grace's Levee, the celebrated divine, soi-disant prophet, Irving. 
He is a fine-looking man (bating a diabolical squint), with talent on
his brow and madness in his eye. His dress, and the arrangement of his
hair, indicated that much attention had been bestowed on his externals,
and led me to suspect a degree of self-conceit, consistent both with
genius and insanity.
 Lord Forbes was at this time His Majesty's High
Commissioner to the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland: he had
been appointed in 1826.
 Rev. Edward Irving, minister of the Scottish Church in
London, was deposed March 1833, and died Dec. 1834, aged forty-two.
Came home by Cadell's, who persists in his visions of El Dorado. He
insists that I will probably bring £60,000 within six years to rub off
all Constable's debts, which that sum will do with a vengeance. Cadell
talks of offering for the Poetry to Longman. I fear they will not listen
to him. The Napoleon he can command when he likes by purchasing their
stock in hand. The Lives of the Novelists may also be had. Pleasant
schemes all these, but dangerous to build upon. Yet in looking at the
powerful machine which we have put in motion, it must be owned "as
broken ships have come to land."
Waited on the Commissioner at five o'clock, and had the pleasure to
remain till eight, when the debate in the Assembly was over. The
question which employed their eloquence was whether the celebrated Mr.
Irving could sit there as a ruling elder. It was settled, I think
justly, that a divine, being of a different order of officers in the
Kirk, cannot assume the character of a ruling elder, seeing he cannot
discharge its duties.
 That is as a lay-member of the General Assembly of the
Church of Scotland.
Mr. Irving dined with us. I could hardly keep my eyes off him while we
were at table. He put me in mind of the devil disguised as an angel of
light, so ill did that horrible obliquity of vision harmonise with the
dark tranquil features of his face, resembling that of our Saviour in
Italian pictures, with the hair carefully arranged in the same manner.
There was much real or affected simplicity in the manner in which he
spoke. He rather made play, and spoke much across the table to the
Solicitor, and seemed to be good-humoured. But he spoke with that kind
of unction which is nearly [allied] to cajolerie. He boasted much of the
tens of thousands that attended his ministry at the town of Annan, his
native place, till he wellnigh provoked me to say he was a distinguished
exception to the rule that a prophet was not esteemed in his own
country. But time and place were not fitting.
May 24.—I wrote or wrought all the morning, yea, even to
dinner-time. Miss Kerr, and Mrs. Skene, and Will Clerk dined. Skene came
from the Commissioner's at seven o'clock. We had a merry evening. Clerk
exults in the miscarriage of the Bill for the augmentation of the
judges' salaries. He and the other clerks in the Jury Court had hoped to
have had a share in the proposed measure, but the Court had considered
it as being nos poma natamus. I kept our friends quiet by declining to
move in a matter which was to expose us to the insult of a certain
refusal. Clerk, with his usual felicity of quotation, said they should
have remembered the Clown's exhortation to Lear, "Good nuncle, tarry and
take the fool with you." 
 Lear, Act I. Sc. 4.
May 25.—Wrote in the morning. Dr. Macintosh Mackay came to breakfast,
and brought with him, to show me, the Young Chevalier's target, purse,
and snuff-box, the property of Cluny MacPherson. The pistols are for
holsters, and no way remarkable; a good serviceable pair of weapons
silver mounted. The targe is very handsome indeed, studded with
ornaments of silver, chiefly emblematic, chosen with much taste of
device and happily executed. There is a contrast betwixt the shield and
purse, the targe being large and heavy, the purse, though very handsome,
unusually small and light. After one o'clock I saw the Duke and Duchess
of Gordon; then went to Mr. Smith's to finish a painting for the last
time. The Duchess called with a Swiss lady, to introduce me to her
friend, while I was doing penance. I was heartily glad to see her Grace
once more. Called in at Cadell's. His orders continue so thick that he
must postpone the delivery for several days, to get new engravings
thrown off, etc. Vogue la galère! From all that now appears, I shall
be much better off in two or three years than if my misfortunes had
never taken place. Periissem ni periissem.
Dined at a dinner given by the Antiquarian Society to Mr. Hay Drummond,
Secretary to the Society, now going Consul to Tangiers. It was an
excellent dinner—turtle, champagne, and all the agrémens of a capital
meal, for £1, 6s. a-head. How Barry managed I can't say. The object of
this compliment spoke and drank wine incessantly; good-naturedly
delighted with the compliment, which he repeatedly assured me he valued
more than a hundred pounds. I take it that after my departure, which was
early, it would be necessary to "carry Mr. Silence to bed." 
 2d Henry IV., Act V. Sc. 3.
May 26.—The business at the Court heavy. Dined at Gala's, and had the
pleasure to see him in amended health. Sir John and Lady Hope were
there, and the evening was lively and pleasant. George Square is always
a melancholy place for me. I was dining next door to my father's former
 No. 25.
May 27.—I got up the additional notes for the Waverley Novels. They
seem to be setting sail with a favourable wind. I had to-day a most kind
and friendly letter from the Duke of Wellington, which is a thing to be
vain of. He is a most wonderful man to have climbed to such a height
without ever slipping his foot. Who would have said in 1815 that the
Duke would stand still higher in 1829, and yet it indubitably is so. We
dined with Lady Charlotte Campbell, now Lady Charlotte Bury, and her
husband, who is an egregious fop but a fine draughtsman. Here is another
day gone without work in the evening.
May 28.—The Court as usual till one o'clock. But I forgot to say Mr.
Macintosh Mackay breakfasted, and inspected my curious Irish MS., which
Dr. Brinkley gave me.  Mr. Mackay, I should say Doctor, who well
deserved the name, reads it with tolerable ease, so I hope to knock the
marrow out of the bone with his assistance. I came home and despatched
proof-sheets and revises for Dr. Lardner. I saw kind John Gibson, and
made him happy with the fair prospects of the Magnum. He quite agrees
in my views. A young clergyman, named M'Combie, from Aberdeenshire, also
called to-day. I have had some consideration about the renewal or
re-translation of the Psalmody. I had peculiar views adverse to such an
undertaking.  In the first place, it would be highly unpopular with
the lower and more ignorant rank, many of whom have no idea of the
change which those spiritual poems have suffered in translation, but
consider their old translations as the very songs which David composed.
At any rate, the lower class think that our fathers were holier and
better men than we, and that to abandon their old hymns of devotion, in
order to grace them with newer and more modish expression, would be a
kind of sacrilege. Even the best informed, who think on the subject,
must be of opinion that even the somewhat bald and rude language and
versification of the Psalmody gives them an antique and venerable air,
and their want of the popular graces of modish poetry shows they belong
to a style where ornaments are not required. They contain, besides, the
very words which were spoken and sung by the fathers of the Reformation,
sometimes in the wilderness, sometimes in fetters, sometimes at the
stake. If a Church possessed the vessels out of which the original
Reformers partook of the Eucharist, it would be surely bad taste to melt
them down and exchange them for more modern. No, no. Let them write
hymns and paraphrases if they will, but let us have still
"All people that on earth do dwell." 
 The manuscript referred to is now at Abbotsford. It is a
small quarto of 8-3/4 x 6-1/2 inches, bound in old mottled leather, and
consisting of 251 leaves of paper, written on both sides in the Irish
character, apparently in the reign of James VI. It bears the following
inscription in Sir Walter's hand:—"The kind donor of this book is the
Right Rev. Bishop of Cloyne, famed for his skill in science, and
especially as an astronomer." For contents of vol. see Appendix. Dr.
John Brinkley, Bishop of Cloyne, was Astronomer Royal for Ireland.
 See letter to Principal Baird, ante, vol, i, p. 412
 The first line of the Scottish metrical version of the
hundredth Psalm. Mr. Lockhart tells us, in his affecting account of Sir
Walter's illness, that his love for the old metrical version of the
Psalms continued unabated to the end. A story has been told, on the
authority of the nurse in attendance, that on the morning of the day on
which he died, viz., on the 21st Sept. 1832, he opened his eyes once
more, quite conscious, and calmly asked her to read to him a psalm. She
proceeded to do so, when he gently interposed, saying, "No! no! the
Scotch Psalms." After reading to him a little while, he expressed a wish
to be moved nearer the window, through which he looked long and
earnestly up and down the valley and towards the sky, and then on the
woman's face, saying: "I'll know it all before night." This story will
find some confirmation from the entry in the Journal under September 24,
1830: "I think I will be in the secret next week; unless I recruit
Law and devotion must lose some of their dignity as often as they adopt
May 30.—The Skenes came in to supper last night. Dr. Scott of Haslar
Hospital came to breakfast. He is a nephew of Scott of Scalloway, who is
one of the largest proprietors in Shetland. I have an agreeable
recollection of the kindness and hospitality of these remote isles, and
of this gentleman's connections in particular, who welcomed me both as a
stranger and a Scott, being duly tenacious of their clan. This young
gentleman is high in the medical department of the navy. He tells me
that the Ultima Thule is improving rapidly. The old clumsy plough is
laid aside. They have built several stout sloops to go to the deep-sea
fishing, instead of going thither in open boats, which consumed so much
time between the shore and the haaf or fishing spot. Pity but they would
use a steam-boat to tow them out! I have a real wish to hear of
Zetland's advantage. I often think of its long isles, its towering
precipices, its capes covered with sea-fowl of every class and
description that ornithology can find names for, its deep caves, its
smoked geese, and its sour sillocks. I would like to see it again. After
the Court I came round by Cadell, who is like Jemmy Taylor,
"Full of mirth and full of glee,"
for which he has good reason, having raised the impression of the
Magnum to 12,000 copies, and yet the end is not, for the only puzzle
now is how to satisfy the delivery fast enough. 
 In a letter to his son at this time he says the "sale of
the Novels is pro-di-gi-ous. If it last but a few years it will clear my
feet of old encumbrances."—Life, vol. ix. p. 32.
May 31.—We dined at Craigcrook with Jeffrey. It is a most beautiful
place, tastefully planted with shrubs and trees, and so sequestered,
that after turning into the little avenue, all symptoms of the town are
left behind you. He positively gives up the Edinburgh Review.  A
very pleasant evening. Rather a glass of wine too much, for I was heated
during the night. Very good news of Walter.
 Jeffrey, who had just retired from the editorship of the
Edinburgh Review, was succeeded by Macvey Napier, whose first No. was
published in October 1829.