January 25.—­Anne is ill this morning.  May God help us!  If it should prove serious, as I have known it in such cases, where am I to find courage or comfort?  A thought has struck me—­Can we do nothing for creditors with the goblin drama, called Fortunes of Devorgoil?  Could it not be added to Woodstock as a fourth volume?  Terry refused a gift of it, but he was quite and entirely wrong; it is not good, but it may be made so.  Poor Will Erskine liked it much.[135] Gave my wife her L12 allowance.  L24 to last till Wednesday fortnight. January 26.—­Spoke to J.B. last night about Devorgoil, who does not seem to relish the proposal, alleging the comparative failure of Halidon Hill.  Ay, says Self-Conceit, but he has not read it; and when he does, it is the sort of wild fanciful work betwixt heaven and earth, which men of solid parts do not estimate.  Pepys thought Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream the most silly play he had ever seen, and Pepys was probably judging on the same grounds with J.B., though presumptuous enough to form conclusions against a very different work from any of mine.  How if I send it to Lockhart by and by?

I called to-day at Constable’s; both partners seemed secure that Hurst and Robinson were to go on and pay.  Strange that they should have stopped.  Constable very anxious to have husbanding of the books.  I told him the truth that I would be glad to have his assistance, and that he should have the benefit of the agency, but that he was not to consider past transactions as a rule for selling them in future, since I must needs make the most out of the labours I could:  item, that I, or whoever might act for me, would of course, after what has happened, look especially to the security.  He said if Hurst and Robinson were to go on, bank notes would be laid down.  I conceive indeed that they would take Woodstock and Napoleon almost at loss rather than break the connection in the public eye.  Sir William Arbuthnot and Mr. Kinnear were very kind.  But cui bono?[136]

Gibson comes with a joyful face announcing all the creditors had unanimously agreed to a private trust.  This is handsome and confidential, and must warm my best efforts to get them out of the scrape.  I will not doubt—­to doubt is to lose.  Sir William Forbes took the chair, and behaved as he has ever done, with the generosity of ancient faith and early friendship.  They[137] are deeper concerned than most.  In what scenes have Sir William and I not borne share together—­desperate, and almost bloody affrays, rivalries, deep drinking-matches, and, finally, with the kindest feelings on both sides, somewhat separated by his retiring much within the bosom of his family, and I moving little beyond mine.  It is fated our planets should cross though, and that at the periods most interesting for me.  Down—­down—­a hundred thoughts.

Jane Russell drank tea with us.