The Journal of Sir Walter Scott from the Original Manuscript at Abbotsford October, 1831
by Sir Walter Scott
INTERVAL.
I have been very ill, and if not quite unable to write, I have been
unfit to do so. I have wrought, however, at two Waverley things, but not
well, and, what is worse, past mending. A total prostration of bodily
strength is my chief complaint. I cannot walk half a mile. There is,
besides, some mental confusion, with the extent of which I am not
perhaps fully acquainted. I am perhaps setting. I am myself inclined to
think so, and, like a day that has been admired as a fine one, the light
of it sets down amid mists and storms. I neither regret nor fear the
approach of death if it is coming. I would compound for a little pain
instead of this heartless muddiness of mind which renders me incapable
of anything rational. The expense of my journey will be something
considerable, which I can provide against by borrowing £500 from Mr.
Gibson. To Mr. Cadell I owe already, with the cancels on these
apoplectic books, about £200, and must run it up to £500 more at least;
yet this heavy burthen would be easily borne if I were to be the Walter
Scott I once was; but the change is great. This would be nothing,
providing that I could count on these two books having a sale equal to
their predecessors; but as they do not deserve the same countenance,
they will not and cannot have such a share of favour, and I have only to
hope that they will not involve the Waverley, which are now selling
30,000 volumes a month, in their displeasure. Something of a Journal and
the Reliquiae Trotcosienses will probably be moving articles, and I
have in short no fears in pecuniary matters. The ruin which I fear
involves that of my King and country. Well says Colin Mackenzie:—
"Shall this desolation strike thy towers alone?
No, fair Ellandonan! such ruin 'twill bring,
That the storm shall have power to unsettle the throne,
And thy fate shall be mixed with the fate of thy King." [465]
[465] See "Ellandonan Castle," in the Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border, Scott's Poetical Works, vol. iv. p. 361.
I fear that the great part of the memorialists are bartering away the
dignity of their rank by seeking to advance themselves by a job, which
is a melancholy sight. The ties between democrat and aristocrat are
sullen discontent with each other. The former are regarded as a
house-dog which has manifested incipient signs of canine madness, and is
not to be trusted. Walter came down to-day to join our party.
[September 20?]—Yesterday, Wordsworth, his son [nephew [466]] and
daughter, came to see us, and we went up to Yarrow. The eldest son of
Lord Ravensworth also came to see us, with his accomplished lady. We had
a pleasant party, and to-day were left by the Liddells, manent the
three Wordsworths, cum cæteris, a German or Hungarian Count Erdödy, or
some such name.
[466] Now the Bishop of St. Andrews. As has been already said,
Wordsworth arrived on the 19th and left on the 22d September, i.e. the
visit lasted from Monday till Thursday. There are no dates in the
Journal between May 25 and October 8, but Wordsworth says, "At noon on
Thursday we left Abbotsford, and on the morning of that day Sir Walter
and I had a serious conversation tête-à-tête, when he spoke with
gratitude of the happy life which upon the whole he had led."—Knight's
Wordsworth, vol. iii. p. 201.
We arrived in London [September 28,] after a long and painful journey,
the weakness of my limbs palpably increasing, and the physic prescribed
making me weaker every day. Lockhart, poor fellow, is as attentive as
possible, and I have, thank God, no pain whatever; could the end be as
easy it would be too happy. I fancy the instances of Euthanasia are not
very uncommon. Instances there certainly are among the learned and the
unlearned—Dr.
Black, Tom Purdie. I should wish, if it please God, to sleep off in
such a quiet way; but we must take what Fate sends. I have not warm
hopes of being myself again.
Wordsworth and his daughter, a fine girl, were with us on the last day.
I tried to write in her diary, and made an ill-favoured botch—no help
for it. "Stitches will wear, and ill ones will out," as the tailor
says. [467]
[467] Wordsworth notes that on placing the volume in his
daughter's hand, Sir Walter said, "I should not have done anything of
this kind but for your father's sake; they are probably the last verses
I shall ever write."—Knight's Wordsworth, vol. iii. p. 201.
[October 8, London.]—The King has located me on board the Barham,
with my suite, consisting of my eldest son, youngest daughter, and
perhaps my daughter-in-law, which, with poor Charles, will make a goodly
tail. I fancy the head of this tail cuts a poor figure, scarce able to
stir about.
The town is in a foam with politics. The report is that the Lords will
throw out the Bill, and now, morning of 8th October, I learn it is
quoited downstairs like a shovel-board shilling, with a plague to it, as
the most uncalled-for attack upon a free constitution, under which men
lived happily, which ever was ventured in my day. Well, it would have
been pleasing to have had some share in so great a victory, yet even now
I am glad I have been quiet. I believe I should only have made a bad
figure. Well, I will have time enough to think of all this.
October 9.—The report to-day is that the Chancellor [468] will unite
with the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel to bring in a Bill of
his own concocting, modified to the taste of the other two, with which
some think they will be satisfied. This is not very unlikely, for Lord
Brougham has been displeased with not having been admitted to Lord John
Russell's task of bill-drawing. He is a man of unbounded ambition, as
well as unbounded talent and [uncertain] temper. There have been hosts
of people here, particularly the Duke of Buccleuch, to ask me to the
christening of his son and heir, when the King stands godfather. I am
asked as an ally and friend of the family, which makes the compliment
greater. Singular that I should have stood godfather to this Duke
himself, representing some great man.
[468] Lord Brougham.
October 10.—Yesterday we dined alone, so I had an opportunity of
speaking seriously to John; but I fear procrastination. It is the cry of
Friar Bacon's Brazen head, time is—time was; but the time may soon
come—time shall be no more. The Whigs are not very bold, not much
above a hundred met to support Lord Grey to the last. Their resolutions
are moderate, probably because they could not have carried stronger. I
went to breakfast at Sir Robert Henry Inglis', and coming home about
twelve found the mob rising in the Regent's Park, and roaring for Reform
as rationally as a party of Angusshire cattle would have done.
Sophia seemed to act as the jolly host in the play. "These are my
windows," and, shutting the shutters, "let them batter—I care not
serving the good Duke of Norfolk." After a time they passed out of our
sight, hurrying doubtless to seek a more active scene of reformation. As
the night closed, the citizens who had hitherto contented themselves
with shouting, became more active, and when it grew dark set forth to
make work for the glaziers.
October 11, Tuesday.—We set out in the morning to breakfast with
Lady Gifford. We passed several glorious specimens of the last night's
feats of the reformers. The Duke of Newcastle's and Lord Dudley's houses
were sufficiently broken. The maidens, however, had resisted, and from
the top of the house with coals, which had greatly embarrassed the
assembled mob. Surely if the people are determined on using a right so
questionable, and the Government resolved to consider it as too sacred
to be resisted, some modes of resistance might be resorted to of a
character more ludicrous than firearms,—coals, for example, scalding
oil, boiling water, or some other mode of defence against a sudden
attack. We breakfasted with a very pleasant party at Lady Gifford's. I
was particularly happy to meet Lord Sidmouth; at seventy-five, he tells
me, as much in health and spirits as at sixty. I also met Captain Basil
Hall, to whom I owe so much for promoting my retreat in so easy a
manner. I found my appointment to the Barham had been pointed out by
Captain Henry Duncan, R.N., as being a measure which would be
particularly agreeable to the officers of the service. This is too high
a compliment. In returning I called to see the repairs at Lambeth, which
are proceeding under the able direction of Blore, who met me there. They
are in the best Gothic taste, and executed at the expense of a large
sum, to be secured by way of mortgage, payable in fifty years; each
incumbent within the time paying a proportion of about £4000 a year. I
was pleased to see this splendour of church architecture returning
again.
Lord Mahon, a very amiable as well as a clever young man, comes to
dinner with Mr. Croker; Lady Louisa Stuart in the afternoon, or, more
properly, at night.
October 12.—Misty morning—looks like a yellow fog, which is the
curse of London. I would hardly take my share of it for a share of its
wealth and its curiosity—a vile double-distilled fog of the most
intolerable kind. Children scarce stirring yet, but baby and the Macaw
beginning their Macaw notes. Among other feats of the mob on Monday, a
gentleman who saw the onslaught told me two men got on Lord
Londonderry's carriage and struck him; the chief constable came to the
rescue and belaboured the rascals, who ran and roared. I should have
liked to have seen the onslaught—Dry beating, and plenty of it, is a
great operator of a reform among these gentry. At the same time Lord
Londonderry is a brain-sick man, very unlike his brother. He
horsewhipped a sentinel under arms at Vienna for obeying his consigne,
which was madness. On the other side all seems to be prepared. Heavy
bodies of the police are stationed in all the squares and places
supporting each other regularly. The men themselves say that their
numbers amount to 3000, and that they are supported by troops in still
greater numbers, so that the Conservative force is sufficiently strong.
Four o'clock—a letter from the Duke saying the party is put off by
command of the King, and probably the day will be put off until the
Duke's return from Scotland, so our hopes of seeing the fine ceremony
are all ended.
October 13.—Nocte pluit tota—an excellent recipe for a mob, so
they have been quiet accordingly, as we are informed. Two or three other
wet nights would do much to weary them out with inactivity. Milman, whom
I remember a fine gentlemanlike young man, dined here yesterday. He says
the fires have never ceased in his country, but that the oppressions and
sufferings occasioned by the poor's rates are very great, and there is
no persuading the English farmer that an amended system is comfortable
both for rich and poor. The plan of ministers is to keep their places
maugre Peers and Commons both, while they have the countenance of the
crown; but if a Prince shelters, by authority of the prerogative,
ministers against the will of the other authority of the state, does he
not quit the defence which supposes he can do no wrong? This doctrine
would make a curious change of parties. Will they attempt to legitimize
the Fitz Clarences? God forbid! Yet it may end in that,—it would be
Paris all over. The family is said to have popular qualities. Then what
would be the remedy? Marry! seize on the person of the Princess
Victoria, carrying her north and setting up the banner of England with
the Duke of W. as dictator! Well, I am too old to fight, and therefore
should keep the windy side of the law; besides, I shall be buried before
times come to a decision. In the meantime the King dare not go to stand
godfather to the son of one of his most powerful peers, a party of his
own making, lest his loving subjects pull the house about the ears of
his noble host and the company invited to meet him. Their loyalty has a
pleasant way of displaying itself. I will go to Westminster after
breakfast and see what people are saying, and whether the Barham is
likely to sail, or whether its course is not altered to the coast of the
Low Countries instead of the Mediterranean.
October 14.—Tried to walk to Lady Louisa Stuart's, but took a little
vertigo and came back. Much disturbed by a letter from Walter. He is
like to be sent on an obnoxious service with very inadequate force,
little prospect of thanks if he does his duty, and much of blame if he
is unable to accomplish it. I have little doubt he will ware his
mother's calf-skin on them.
The manufacturing districts are in great danger. London seems pretty
secure. Sent off the revise of introduction to Mr. Cadell. [469]
[469] The introductory address to Count Robert of Paris bears
the date October 15th, 1831.
October 16.—A letter from Walter with better news. He has been at
hard-heads with the rogues and come off with advantage; in short,
practised with success the art of drawing two souls out of one
weaver. [470] All seems quiet now, and I suppose the Major will get his
leave as proposed. Two ladies—[one] Byron's Mary Chaworth—have been
frightened to death while the mob tore the dying creatures from their
beds and proposed to throw them into the flames, drank the wine,
destroyed the furniture, and committed other excesses of a
jacquerie. [471] They have been put down, however, by a strong force of
yeomanry and regulars. Walter says the soldiers fired over the people's
heads, whereas if they had levelled low, the bullets must have told more
among the multitude. I cannot approve of this, for in such cases
severity is ultimate mercy. [472] However, if they have made a
sufficient impression to be striking—why, enough is as good as a feast.
[470] Twelfth Night, Act II. Sc. 3.
[471] See Moore's edition of Byron's Works, vol. vii. pp.
43-44, note.
[472] Scott's views received strong confirmation a few days
later at Bristol, where the authorities, through mistaken humanity,
hesitated to order the military to act.
There is a strange story about town of ghost-seeing vouched by Lord
Prudhoe, a near relation of the Duke of Northumberland, and whom I know
as an honourable man. A colonel described as a cool-headed sensible man
of worth and honour, Palgrave, who dined with us yesterday, told us
twice over the story as vouched by Lord Prudhoe, and Lockhart gave us
Colonel Felix's edition, which coincided exactly. I will endeavour to
extract the essence of both. While at Grand Cairo they were attracted by
the report of a physician who could do the most singular magical feats,
and was in the habit not only of relieving the living, but calling up
the dead. This sage was the member of a tribe in the interior part of
Africa. They were some time (two years) in finding him out, for he by no
means pressed himself on the curious, nor did he on the other hand avoid
them; but when he came to Grand Cairo readily agreed to gratify them by
a sight of his wonders. The scenes exhibited were not visible to the
operator himself, nor to the person for whose satisfaction they were
called up, but, as in the case of Dr. Dee and other adepts, by means of
a viewer, an ignorant Nubian boy, whom, to prevent imposition, the
English gentlemen selected for the purpose, and, as they thought,
without any risk of imposture by confederacy betwixt him and the
physician. The process was as follows:—A black square was drawn in the
palm of the boy's hand, or rather a kind of pentacle with an Arabic
character inscribed at each angle. The figures evoked were seen through
this space as if the substance of the hand had been removed. Magic
rites, and particularly perfumes, were liberally resorted to. After
some fumigation the magician declared that they could not proceed until
the seven flags should become visible. The boy declared he saw nothing,
then said he saw a flag, then two; often hesitated at the number for a
certain time, and on several occasions the spell did not work and the
operation went no further, but in general the boy saw the seven flags
through the aperture in his hand. The magician then said they must call
the Sultan, and the boy said he saw a splendid tent fixed, surrounded by
immense hosts, Eblis no doubt, and his angels. The person evoked was
then named, and appeared accordingly. The only indispensable requisite
was that he was named speedily, for the Sultan did not like to be kept
waiting. Accordingly, William Shakespeare being named, the boy declared
that he saw a Frank in a dress which he described as that of the reign
of Elizabeth or her successor, having a singular countenance, a high
forehead, and a very little beard. Another time a brother of the Colonel
was named. The boy said he saw a Frank in his uniform dress and a black
groom behind him leading a superb horse. The dress was a red jacket and
white pantaloons; and the principal figure turning round, the boy
announced that he wanted his arm, as was the case with Felix's brother.
The ceremony was repeated fourteen times; successfully in twelve
instances, and in two it failed from non-appearance of the seven banners
in the first instance. The apparent frankness of the operator was not
the least surprising part of the affair. He made no mystery, said he
possessed this power by inheritance, as a family gift; yet that he could
teach it, and was willing to do so, for no enormous sum—nay, one which
seemed very moderate. I think two gentlemen embraced the offer. One of
them is dead and the other still abroad. The sage also took a price for
the exhibition of his skill, but it was a moderate one, being regulated
by the extent of the perfumes consumed in the ceremony.
There remains much more to ask I understood the witnesses do not like to
bother about, which is very natural. One would like to know a little
more of the Sultan, of the care taken to secure the fidelity of the boy
who was the viewer and on whom so much depended; whether another sage
practising the same feat, as it was said to be hereditary, was ever
known to practise in the city. The truth of a story irreconcilable with
the common course of nature must depend on cross-examination. If we
should find, while at Malta, that we had an opportunity of expiscating
this matter, though at the expense of a voyage to Alexandria, it would
hardly deter me. [473] The girls go to the Chapel Royal this morning at
St. James's. A visit from the Honourable John Forbes, son of my old and
early friend Lord Forbes, who is our fellow-passenger. The ship expects
presently to go to sea. I was very glad to see this young officer and
to hear his news. Drummond and I have been Mends from our infancy.
[473] At Malta, accordingly, we find Sir Walter making inquiry
regarding this Arabian conjurer, and writing to Mr. Lockhart, on Nov.
1831, in the following terms:—
"I have got a key to the conjuring story of Alexandria and Grand Cairo.
I have seen very distinct letters of Sir John Stoddart's son, who
attended three of the formal exhibitions which broke down, though they
were repeated afterwards with success. Young Stoddart is an excellent
Arabian scholar—an advantage which I understand is more imperfectly
enjoyed by Lord Prudhoe and Colonel Felix. Much remains to be explained,
but the boldness of the attempt exceeds anything since the days of the
Automaton chess-player, or the Bottle conjurer. The first time
Shakespeare was evoked he appeared in the complexion of an Arab. This
seems to have been owing to the first syllable of his name, which
resembled the Arabian word Sheik, and suggested the idea of an Arabian
chief to the conjurer. A gentleman named Galloway has bought the secret,
and talks of being frightened. There can be little doubt that, having so
far interested himself, it would become his interest to put the conjurer
more up to the questions likely to be asked. So he was more perfect when
consulted by Lord Prudhoe than at first, when he made various blunders,
and when we must needs say falsum in uno falsum in omnibus. As all
this will come out one day, I have no wish to mingle in the
controversy.... There are still many things to explain, but I think the
mystery is unearthed completely."
See also Lane's Egyptians for an account of what appears to be the
same man in 1837. Also Quarterly Review, No. 117, pp. 196-208, for an
examination of this "Magic Mirror" exhibition.
October 17.—The morning beautiful. To-day I go to look after the
transcripts in the Museum and have a card to see a set of chessmen [474]
thrown up by the sea on the coast of Scotland, which were offered to
sale for £100. The King, Queen, Knights, etc., were in the costume of
the 14th century, the substance ivory or rather the tusk of the morse,
somewhat injured by the salt water in which they had been immersed for
some time.
[474] A hoard of seventy-eight chessmen found in the island of
Lewis in 1831. The greater number of the figures were purchased for the
British Museum, and formed the subject of a learned dissertation by Sir
Frederick Madden; see Archæologia, xxiv. Eleven of these very
interesting pieces fell into the hands of Scott's friend, C.K. Sharpe,
and afterwards of Lord Londesborough. More recently these identical
pieces were purchased for the Museum of Antiquities, Edinburgh, where
they now are. See Proc. Soc. Antiq., vol. xxiii.
Sir John Malcolm told us a story about Garrick and his wife. The lady
admired her husband greatly, but blamed him for a taste for low life,
and insisted that he loved better to play Scrub to a low-lifed audience
than one of his superior characters before an audience of taste. On one
particular occasion she was in her box in the theatre. Richard III.
was the performance, and Garrick's acting, especially in the night
scene, drew down universal applause. After the play was over Mrs. G.
proposed going home, which Garrick declined, alleging he had some
business in the green-room, which must detain him. In short, the lady
was obliged to acquiesce, and wait the beginning of a new entertainment,
in which was introduced a farmer giving his neighbours an account of the
wonders seen on a visit to London. This character was received with such
peals of applause that Mrs. Garrick began to think it rivalled those
which had been so lately lavished on Richard the Third. At last she
observed her little spaniel dog was making efforts to get towards the
balcony which separated him from the facetious farmer. Then she became
aware of the truth. "How strange," she said, "that a dog should know his
master, and a woman, in the same circumstances, should not recognise her
husband!"
October 18.—Sophia had a small but lively party last night, as indeed
she has had every night since we were here—Ladies—[Lady Stafford,]
Lady Louisa Stuart, Lady Montagu, Miss Montagu, Lady [Davy], [Mrs.]
Macleod, and two or three others; Gentlemen—Lord Montagu, Macleod, Lord
Dudley, Rogers [Mackintosh]. A good deal of singing. If Sophia keeps to
early hours she may beat London for small parties as poor Miss White
did, and without much expense. A little address is all that is
necessary. Sir John [475] insists on my meeting this Rammohun Roy; [476] I
am no believer in his wandering knight, so far. The time is gone of
sages who travelled to collect wisdom as well as heroes to reap honour.
Men think and fight for money. I won't see the man if I can help it.
Flatterers are difficult enough to keep at a distance though they be no
renegades. I hate a fellow who begins with throwing away his own
religion, and then affects a prodigious respect for another.
[475] Sir John Malcolm, who was at this time M.P. for
Launceston. His last public appearance was in London, at a meeting
convened for the purpose of raising a monument of his friend Sir Walter,
and his concluding words were, that when he himself "was gone, his son
might be proud to say that his father had been among the contributors to
that shrine of genius." Sir John was struck down by paralysis on the
following day, and died in May 1833.
[476] The celebrated Brahmin philosopher and theist; born in
Bengal about 1774, died at Stapleton Grove, near Bristol, September 27,
1833.
October 19.—Captain H. Duncan called with Captain Pigot, a
smart-looking gentlemanlike man, and announces his purpose of sailing on
Monday. I have made my preparations for being on board on Sunday, which
is the day appointed. Captain Duncan told me jocularly never to take a
naval captain's word on shore, and quoted Sir William Scott, who used to
say, waggishly, that there was nothing so accommodating as a naval
captain on shore; but when on board he became a peremptory lion. Henry
Duncan has behaved very kindly, and says he only discharges the wishes
of his service in making me as easy as possible, which is very handsome.
No danger of feud, except about politics, which would be impolite on my
part, and though it bars out one great subject of discourse, it leaves
enough besides. That I might have nothing doubtful, Walter arrives with
his wife, ready to sail, so what little remains must be done without
loss of time. This is our last morning, so I have money to draw for and
pay away. To see our dear Lord Montagu too. The Duchess came yesterday.
I suppose £50 will clear me, with some balance for Gibraltar.
I leave this country uncertain if it has got a total pardon or only a
reprieve. I won't think of it, as I can do no good. It seems to be in
one of those crises by which Providence reduces nations to their
original elements. [477] If I had my health, I should take no worldly
fee, not to be in the bustle; but I am as weak as water, and I shall be
glad when I have put the Mediterranean between the island and me.
[477] Sir Walter's fears for the country were also shared by
some of the wisest men in it. The Duke of Wellington, it is well known,
was most desponding, and he anticipated greater horror from a convulsion
here than in any other European nation.
Talleyrand said to the Duke during the Reform Bill troubles, "Duke of
Wellington, you have seen a great deal of the world. Can you point out
to me any one place in Europe where an old man could go to and be quite
sure of being safe and dying in peace?"—Stanhope Notes, p. 224.
October 21 and 22.—Spent in taking of farewell and adieus, which had
been put off till now. A melancholy ceremonial, with some a useless one;
yet there are friends whom it sincerely touches one to part with. It is
the cement of life giving way in a moment. Another unpleasant
circumstance is—one is called upon to recollect those whom death or
estrangement has severed, after starting merrily together in the voyage
of life.
October 23.—Portsmouth; arrived here in the evening. Found the
Barham will not sail till 26th October, that is Wednesday next. The
girls break loose, mad with the craze of seeing sights, and run the risk
of our losing some of our things and deranging the naval officers, who
offer their services with their natural gallantry. Captain Pigot came to
breakfast, with several other officials. The girls contrived to secure a
sight of the Block manufactory, together with that of the Biscuit, also
invented by Brunel. I think that I have seen the first of these
wonderful [sights] in 1816, or about that time. [478] Sir Thomas Foley
gives an entertainment to the Admiralty, and sends to invite [me]; but I
pleaded health, and remained at home. Neither will I go out
sight-seeing, which madness seems to have seized my womankind. This
ancient town is one of the few in England which is fortified, and which
gives it a peculiar appearance. It is much surrounded with heaths or
thin poor muirs covered with heather, very barren, yet capable of being
converted into rich arable and pasturage. I would [not] desire a better
estate than to have 2000 acres which would be worth 40 shillings an
acre.
[478] See Mr. Charles Cowan's privately printed Reminiscences
for Scott's recollections of his visit to Portsmouth in 1816, and his
stories, of the wonders he had seen, to the little boy at his side.
October 24.—My womankind are gone out with Walter and Captain Hall. I
wish they would be moderate in their demands on people's complaisance.
They little know how inconvenient are such seizures. A sailor is in
particular a bad refuser, and before he can turn three times round, he
is bound with a triple knot to all kinds of [engagements]. The wind is
west, that is to say contrary, so our sailing on the day after to-morrow
is highly doubtful.
October 25.—A gloomy October day, the wind inflexibly constant in the
west, which is fatal. Sir James Graham proposes to wait upon us after
breakfast. A trouble occurs about my taking an oath before a
master-extraordinary in Chancery; but such cannot easily be found, as
they reside in chambers in town, and rusticate after business, so they
are difficult to catch as an eel. At ten my children set off to the
dockyard, which is a most prodigious effort of machinery, and they are
promised the sight of an anchor in the act of being forged, a most
cyclopean sight. Walter is to call upon the solicitor and appoint him to
be with [me] by twelve.
About the reign of Henry VIII. the French took the pile, as it was
called, of——, [479] but were beat off. About the end of the American
war, an individual named John Aitken, or John the Painter, undertook to
set the dockyard on fire, and in some degree accomplished his purpose.
He had no accomplice, and to support himself committed solitary
robberies. Being discovered, he long hung in chains near the outward
fortifications. Last night a deputation of the Literary and
Philosophical Society of [Portsmouth] came to present me with the
honorary freedom of their body, which I accepted with becoming
gratitude. There is little credit in gathering the name of a disabled
invalid. Here I am, going a long and curious tour without ability to
walk a quarter of a mile; quere, what hope of recovery? I think and
think in vain, when attempting to trace the progress of this disease and
so gradually has my health declined, that I believe it has been acting
upon me for ten years, gradually diminishing my strength. My mental
faculties may perhaps recover; my bodily strength cannot return unless
climate has an effect on the human frame which I cannot possibly believe
or comprehend. The safe resolution is, to try no foolish experiments,
but make myself as easy as I can, without suffering myself to be vexed
about what I cannot help. If I sit on the deck and look at Vesuvius, it
will be all I ought to think of.
[479] Compare Froude's History, vol. iv. p. 424.
Having mentioned John the Painter, I may add that it was in this town of
Portsmouth that the Duke of Buckingham was stabbed to death by Felton, a
fanatic of the same kind with the Incendiary, though perpetrator of a
more manly crime. This monster-breeding age can afford both Feltons and
John Aitkens in abundance. Every village supplies them, while in fact a
deep feeling of the coarsest selfishness furnishes the ruling motive,
instead of an affectation of public spirit—that hackneyed affectation
of patriotism, as like the reality as a Birmingham halfpenny to a
guinea.
The girls, I regret to see, have got a senseless custom of talking
politics in all weathers and in all sorts of company. This can do no
good, and may give much offence. Silence can offend no one, and there
are pleasanter or less irritating subjects to talk of. I gave them both
a hint of this, and bid them both remember they were among ordinary
strangers. How little young people reflect what they may win or lose by
a smart reflection imprudently fired off at a venture!
Mr. Barrow of the Admiralty came and told us the whole fleet, Barham
excepted, were ordered to the North Sea to help to bully the King of
Holland, and that Captain Pigot, whose motions are of more importance to
us than those of the whole British Navy, sails, as certainly as these
things can be prophesied, on Thursday, 27th October.
October 26.—Here we still are, fixed by the inexorable wind.
Yesterday we asked a few old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, and two or
three others, to tea and talk. I engaged in a new novel, by Mr.
Smith, [480] called New Forest. It is written in an old style,
calculated to meet the popular ideas—somewhat like "Man as he is
not" [481] and that class. The author's opinions seem rather to sit loose
upon him and to be adopted for the nonce and not very well brought out.
His idea of a hero is an American philosopher with all the affected
virtues of a Republican which no man believes in.
[480] Mr. Horace Smith, one of the authors of Rejected
Addresses.
[481] An anonymous novel, published some years earlier in 4
vols. 12mo.
This is very tiresome—not to be able to walk abroad for an instant,
but to be kept in this old house which they call "The Fountain," a
mansion made of wood in imitation of a ship. The timbers were well tried
last night during the squall. The barometer has sunk an inch very
suddenly, which seems to argue a change, and probably a deliverance from
port. Sir Michael Seymour, Mr. Harris, Captain Lawrence came to greet us
after breakfast; also Sir James Graham. They were all learned on this
change of weather which seems to be generally expected. I had a good
mess of Tory chat with Mr. Harris. We hope to see his daughters in the
evening. He keeps his courage amid the despair of too many of his party.
About one o'clock our Kofle, as Mungo Park words it, set out, self
excluded, to witness the fleet sailing from the ramparts.
October 27.—The weather is more moderate and there is a chance of our
sailing. We whiled away our time as we could, relieved by several kind
visits. We realised the sense of hopeless expectation described by
Fielding in his Voyage to Lisbon, which identical tract Captain Hall,
who in his eagerness to be kind seems in possession of the wishing-cap
of Fortunatus, was able to provide for us. To-morrow is spoken of as
certainly a day to move.
October 28.—But the wind is as unfavourable as ever and I take a
hobbling morning walk upon the rampart, where I am edified by a
good-natured officer who shows me the place, marked by a buoy, where the
Royal George went down "with twice four hundred men." [482] Its hull
forms a shoal which is still in existence, a neglect scarcely
reconcilable with the splendour of our proceedings where our navy is
concerned. Saw a battle on the rampart between two sailor boys, who
fought like game-cocks. Returned to "The Fountain," to a voluminous
breakfast. Captain Pigot calls, with little hope of sailing to-day. I
made my civil affidavit yesterday to a master extraordinary in Chancery,
which I gave to Sophia last night.
[482] Cowper's Monody.
October 29 (The Barham).—The weather is changed and I think we
shall sail. Captain Forbes comes with offer of the Admiral Sir Michael
Seymour's barge, but we must pause on our answer. I have had a very
disturbed night. Captain Pigot's summons is at length brought by his own
announcement, and the same time the Admiral's barge attends for our
accommodation and puts us and our baggage on board the Barham, a
beautiful ship, a 74 cut down to a 50, and well deserving all the
commendations bestowed on her. The weather a calm which is almost equal
to a favourable wind, so we glide beautifully along by the Isle of Wight
and the outside of the island. We landsfolk feel these queerish
sensations, when, without being in the least sick, we are not quite
well. We dine enormously and take our cot at nine o'clock, when we sleep
undisturbed till seven.
October 30.—Find the Bill of Portland in sight, having run about
forty miles during the night. About the middle of the day turn sea-sick
and retire to my berth for the rest of the evening.
October 31.—A sleepless night and a bilious morning, yet not so very
uncomfortable as the phrase may imply. The bolts clashed, and made me
dream of poor Bran. The wind being nearly completely contrary, we have
by ten o'clock gained Plymouth and of course will stand westward for
Cape Finisterre; terrible tossing and much sea-sickness, beating our
passage against the turn. I may as well say we had a parting visit from
Lady Graham, who came off in a steamer, saluted us in the distance and
gave us by signal her "bon voyage." On Sunday we had prayers and Service
from Mr. Marshall, our Chaplain, a Trinity College youth, who made a
very respectable figure.
