14–20 March 1831

Had a very sensible and good-humoured answer from Mr. Cadell, readily submitting to my decision. He mentions, what I am conscious of, the great ease of accomplishing, if the whole is divided into two halves. But this is not an advantage to me, but to them who keep the books, and therefore I cannot be moved by it. It is the great advantage of uniformity, of which Malachi Malagrowther tells so much. I do not fear that Mr. Cadell will neglect the concern because he has not the large share in it which he had in the other. He is, I think, too honest a man. He has always shown himself every way willing and ready to help me, and verily he hath his reward; and I can afford him on that property a handsome percentage for the management. But if his fate was to lose considerably by this transaction, I must necessarily be a sufferer; if he be a great gainer, it is at my expense, so it is like the children's game of "Odds I win, evens you lose"—so will say no more about it. I think I will keep my ground nearly, so these cursed politics do not ruin the country. I am unable to sit at good men's boards, and Anne has gone to Mertoun to-day without me. I cannot walk or ride but for a mile or two. Naboclish! never mind. I am satisfied that I am heart-whole as a biscuit, and I may live to see the end of those affairs yet. I am driving on the Count of Paris right merrily. I have plenty of leisure, and vive la plume! I have arranged matters as I think for the best, so will think no more about it.

The affair with Mr. Cadell being settled, I have only to arrange a set of regular employment for my time, without over-fatiguing myself. What I at present practise seems active enough for my capacity, and even if I should reach the threescore and ten, from which I am thrice three years distant, or nearer ten, the time may pass honourably, usefully, and profitably, both to myself and other people. My ordinary runs thus:—Rise at a quarter before seven; at a quarter after nine breakfast, with eggs, or in the singular number, at least; before breakfast private letters, etc.; after breakfast Mr. Laidlaw comes at ten, and we write together till one. I am greatly helped by this excellent man, who takes pains to write a good hand, and supplies the want of my own fingers as far as another person can. We work seriously at the task of the day till one o'clock, when I sometimes walk—not often, however, having failed in strength, and suffering great pain even from a very short walk. Oftener I take the pony for an hour or two and ride about the doors; the exercise is humbling enough, for I require to be lifted on horseback by two servants, and one goes with me to take care I do not fall off and break my bones, a catastrophe very like to happen. My proud promenade à pied or à cheval, as it happens, concludes by three o'clock. An hour intervenes for making up my Journal and such light work. At four comes dinner,—a plate of broth or soup, much condemned by the doctors, a bit of plain meat, no liquors stronger than small beer, and so I sit quiet to six o'clock, when Mr. Laidlaw returns, and remains with me till nine or three quarters past, as it happens. Then I have a bowl of porridge and milk, which I eat with the appetite of a child. I forgot to say that after dinner I am allowed half a glass of whisky or gin made into weak grog. I never wish for any more, nor do I in my secret soul long for cigars, though once so fond of them. About six hours per day is good working, if I can keep at it.

Little of this day, but that it was so uncommonly windy that I was almost blown off my pony, and was glad to grasp the mane to prevent its actually happening. Rode round by Brigends. I began the third volume of Count Robert of Paris, which has been on the anvil during all these vexatious circumstances of politics and health. But "the blue heaven bends over all." It may be ended in a fortnight if I keep my scheme. But I will take time enough. This would be on Thursday. I would like it much.

We get well on. Count Robert is finished so far as the second goes, and some twenty [pages] of the third. Blackwood's Magazine, after long bedaubing me with compliment, has began to bedaub Lockhart for my sake, or perhaps me for Lockhart's sake, with abuse. Lockhart's chief offence seems to have been explaining the humbug of showing up Hogg as a fool and blackguard in what he calls the Noctes. For me I care wonderfully little either for his flattery or his abuse.

I made a hard working day—almost equal to twenty pages, but there was some reason for it, for Ballantyne writes me that the copy sent will not exceed 265 pages when the end of volume ii. is reached; so 45 more pages must be furnished to run it out to page 329. This is an awful cast back; so the gap is to be made up.

I thought I was done with politics, but it is easy getting into the mess, and difficult and sometimes disgraceful to get out. I have a letter from Sheriff Oliver, desiring me to go [to Jedburgh] on Monday (to-morrow) and show countenance by adhering to a set of propositions, being a resolution. Though not well drawn, they are uncompromising enough; so I will not part company. Had a letter, too, from Henry Scott. He still expects to refuse the Bill. I wrote him that would but postpone the evil day, unless they could bring forward a strong Administration, and, what is most essential, a system of finance; otherwise it won't do. Henry has also applied to me for the rejected address. But this I shall decline.