[435] The University Commission.—­See ante, pp. 256, 257.

[436] The long life of Walter, fifth Duke of Buccleuch, more than fulfilled the hopes and prognostics of his friend.  A “true Scots lord,” he carried with him to the grave in 1884 the love and respect of his countrymen.

[437] Hamlet, Act III.  Sc. 2.—­J.G.L.

1827

JANUARY.

January 1.—­God make this a happy year to the King and country, and to all honest men!

I went with all our family to-day to dine as usual at the kind house of Huntly Burn; but the same cloud which hung over us on Saturday still had its influence.  The effect of grief upon [those] who, like myself and Sir A.F., are highly susceptible of humour, has, I think, been finely touched by Wordsworth in the character of the merry village teacher Matthew, whom Jeffrey profanely calls the hysterical schoolmaster.[438] But, with my friend Jeffrey’s pardon, I think he loves to see imagination best when it is bitted and managed and ridden upon, the grand pas.  He does not make allowance for starts and sallies and bounds when Pegasus is beautiful to behold, though sometimes perilous to his rider.  Not that I think the amiable bard of Rydal shows judgment in choosing such subjects as the popular mind cannot sympathise in.  It is unwise and unjust to himself.  I do not compare myself, in point of imagination, with Wordsworth—­far from it; for [his] is naturally exquisite, and highly cultivated by constant exercise.  But I can see as many castles in the clouds as any man, as many genii in the curling smoke of a steam engine, as perfect a Persepolis in the embers of a sea-coal fire.  My life has been spent in such day-dreams.  But I cry no roast-meat.  There are times a man should remember what Rousseau used to say:  Tais-toi, Jean-Jacques, car on ne t’entend pas![439]

January 2.—­I had resolved to mark down no more griefs and groans, but I must needs briefly state that I am nailed to my chair like the unhappy Theseus.  The rheumatism, exasperated by my sortie of yesterday, has seized on my only serviceable knee—­and I am, by Proserpine, motionless as an anvil.  Leeches and embrocations are all I have for it. Diable! there was a twinge.  The Russells and Fergusons here; but I was fairly driven off the pit after dinner, and compelled to retreat to my own bed, there to howl till morning like a dog in his solitary cabin.

January 3.—­Mending slowly.  Two things are comfortable—­1_st_, I lose no good weather out of doors, for the ground is covered with snow; 2_d_, That, by exerting a little stoicism, I can make my illness promote the advance of Nap.  As I can scarcely stand, however, I am terribly awkward at consulting books, maps, etc.  The work grows under my hand, however; vol. vi. [Napoleon] will be finished this week, I believe.  Russells being still with us, I was able by dint of handing and chairing to get to the dining-room and the drawing-room in the evening.