MEMOIR 
 
 O F 
 
 ROBERT CHAMBERS 
 
 WITH 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHIC REMINISCENCES 
 
 OF 
 
 WILLIAM CHAMBERS. 
 
 W.&R. CHAMBERS, 
 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON, 
 1872. 
 
MEMOIR 
 
 OF 
 
 ROBERT CHAMBERS 
 
 WITH 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHIC REMINISCENCES OF 
 
 WILLIAM CHAMBERS 
 
 M 
 
 FIFTH EDITION. 
 
 W. & R. CHAMBERS 
 EDINBURGH AND LONDON 
 
 1872 
 
Edinburgh : 
 Printed by W. and II. Chambura. 
 
PREFATORY NOTE. 
 
 1 ' ; :' 
 
 -.' : 
 
 ON the death of my brother, Dr ROBERT CHAM- 
 BERS, numerous Biographic sketches of him appeared 
 in Great Britain and the United States, all of them 
 kind and complimentary, but in many cases imperfect 
 or erroneous as regards certain leading details. It 
 seemed to me that, while still spared life and oppor- 
 tunity, I might try to do justice to the memory of the 
 deceased, by giving a correct history of his life and 
 principal writings. 
 
 The attempt, however, involved a difficulty. Having 
 been intimately associated with my brother, not only in 
 early life, but in literary enterprises, it was scarcely 
 possible to relate the story of one without frequent 
 reference to the other. I have so far yielded to this 
 necessity, as to offer some Autobiographic Reminiscences, 
 in subordination to the principal object in view. To 
 this extent only is the Memoir that of two individuals. 
 
 The retrospect of some early events, which could 
 not well be omitted, has not been unaccompanied with 
 poignant recollections ; but if a perusal of the narrative 
 serves in any degree to inspire youth with notions of 
 self-reliance, along with a hopeful dependence on Provi- 
 dence when pressed by adverse circumstances, I shall 
 be more than recompensed. 
 
 W. C. 
 
 April 1872. 
 
 M23280 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 EARLY YEARS l8oO TO 1813 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 EARLY YEARS CONTINUED 1 8OO TO 1813 34 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SETTLING IN EDINBURGH 1813-1814. 7O 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MY APPRENTICESHIP 1814 TO 1819 8l 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 "ROBERT'S EARLY DIFFICULTIES 1814 TO 1819. 119 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MY OWN COMMENCEMENT IN BUSINESS 1819 TO I82I...I33 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 ROBERT'S WRITINGS 1822 TO 1832 175 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SOME REMINISCENCES 1 822 TO 1832 2o6 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHEAP LITERATURE MOVEMENT OF 1832 '. 224 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CONDUCTING OF ' CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL' 239 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 RETROSPECT OF GENERAL WORK DONE 253 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 ROBERT'S LATER WORKS 1842 TO 1865 271 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A SKELETON IN THE HOUSE, AND OTHER MATTERS... 306 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 ROBERT'S CLOSING YEARS, AND LITERARY REMAINS... 320 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HIS LAST DAYS, DEATH, AND CHARACTER 341 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 EARLY YEARS l8oo TO 1813. 
 
 brother and I were born and spent our early 
 years in a small country town in the south of 
 Scotland, situated amidst beautiful scenery, and had 
 therefore the advantage of being acquainted from 
 infancy with some of the noble works of nature, along 
 with rural objects and circumstances. The place of 
 our birth was Peebles, an ancient royal burgh on the 
 upper part of the Tweed, where our ancestors had dwelt 
 from time immemorial the tradition among them being, 
 that they were descended from a personage inscribed as 
 'William de la Chaumbre, Bailif e Burgois de Pebles,' 
 in the list of those who signed bonds of allegiance to 
 Edward I. at Berwick-on-Tweed, 1296. However that 
 might be, I was born in this little old burgh, i6th April 
 1800 ; and Robert, coming next in order in the family, 
 was born loth July 1802. 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 For the place of birth and early associations almost 
 every one has a peculiar affection; and among the 
 Scotch, as is well known, this feeling is a marked 
 national characteristic. It will not seem surprising, 
 therefore, that through life Robert cherished kindly 
 remembrances of the scenes of his infancy. A few 
 years previous to his decease, he began notes of what 
 may have been intended as a memoir of himself, but 
 which were not carried farther than reminiscences 
 from the dawn of intelligence to about his tenth year. 
 Fragmentary as are these memoranda, they abound in 
 the geniality of sentiment for which the writer was 
 remarkable, and serve to illustrate the state of things 
 in certain by -corners of Scotland sixty to seventy 
 years since. The following portions may accordingly be 
 acceptable, supplemented here and there by such par- 
 ticulars from my own remembrance as may help to 
 complete the picture : 
 
 'In the early years of this century,* he proceeds, 
 1 Peebles was little advanced from the condition in 
 which it had mainly rested for several hundred years 
 previously. It was eminently a quiet place " As quiet 
 as the grave or as Peebles," is a phrase used by Cock- 
 burn. It was said to be a finished town, for no new 
 houses (exceptions to be of course allowed for) were 
 ever built in it. Situated, however, among beautiful 
 pastoral hills, with a singularly pure atmosphere, and 
 with the pellucid Tweed running over its pebbly bed 
 close beside the streets, the town was acknowledged to 
 be, in the fond language of its inhabitants, a bonny 
 place. An honest old burgher was enabled by some 
 strange chance to visit Paris, and was eagerly questioned, 
 
PEEBLES. II 
 
 when he came back, as to the character of that capital 
 of capitals ; to which, it is said, he answered that 
 " Paris, a'thing considered, was a wonderful place but 
 still, Peebles for pleesure !" and this has often been 
 cited as a ludicrous example of rustic prejudice and 
 narrowness of judgment. But, on a fair interpretation 
 of the old gentleman's words, he was not quite so 
 benighted as at first appears. The "pleesures" of 
 Peebles were the beauties of the situation and the 
 opportunities of healthful recreation it afforded, and 
 these were certainly considerable. 
 
 * There was an old and a new town in Peebles each 
 of them a single street, or little more ; and as even the 
 new town had an antique look, it may be inferred that 
 the old looked old indeed. It was indeed chiefly com- 
 posed of thatched cottages, occupied by weavers and 
 labouring people a primitive race of homely aspect, in 
 many instances eking out a scanty subsistence by having 
 a cow on the town common, or cultivating a rig of 
 potatoes in the fields close to the town. Rows of 
 porridge luggies (small wooden vessels) were to be seen 
 cooling on window-soles; a smell of peat smoke per- 
 vaded the place ; the click of the shuttle was everywhere 
 heard during the day ; and in the evening, the gray old 
 men came out in their Kilmarnock night-caps, and 
 talked of Bonaparte, on the stone seats beside their 
 doors. The platters used in these humble dwellings 
 were all of wood, and the spoons of horn ; knives and 
 forks rather rare articles. The house was generally 
 divided into two apartments by a couple of box-beds, 
 placed end to end a bad style of bed prevalent in 
 cottages all over Scotland ; they were so close as almost 
 to stifle the inmates. Among these humble people, all 
 
12 MEMOIR. 
 
 costumes, customs, and ways of living smacked of old 
 times. You would see a venerable patriarch making 
 his way to church on Sunday, with a long-backed, swing- 
 tailed, light-blue coat of the style of George II., which 
 was probably his marriage coat, and half a century old. 
 His head-gear was a broad-brimmed blue bonnet. The 
 old women came out on the same occasions in red 
 scarfs, called cardinals, and white mutches (caps), bound 
 by a black ribbon, with the gray hair folded back on the 
 forehead. There was a great deal of drugget, and 
 huckaback, and serge in that old world, and very little 
 cotton. One almost might think he saw the humbler 
 Scotch people of the seventeenth century before his 
 eyes. 
 
 'Apropos of the box-beds, there was a carrier named 
 Davie Loch, who was reputed to be rather light of wits, 
 but at the same time not without a sense of his worldly 
 interests. His mother, finding her end approaching, 
 addressed her son, in the presence of a number of the 
 neighbours. 
 
 " The house will be Davie' s, of course, and the furni- 
 ture too." 
 
 " Eh, hear her !" quoth Davie; "sensible to the last, 
 sensible to the last." 
 
 " The lyin' siller" 
 
 " Eh, yes ; how clear she is about everything !" 
 
 " The lyin' siller is to be divided between my two 
 daughters " 
 
 " Steek the bed-doors, steek the bed-doors," interposed 
 Davie; " she 's raving now !" And the old dying woman 
 was shut up accordingly. 
 
 1 In this old-town population, there survived two or 
 .three aged persons who professed an adherence to 
 
LAIRD BAIRD. 13 
 
 the Covenant and covenanted work of Reformation. 
 One of these, designated Laird Baird, remains clearly 
 daguerreotyped on my memory a tall, bony, grim old 
 man with blue rig-and-fur stockings rolled half way up 
 his thighs, and a very umbrageous blue bonnet. His 
 secular business consisted in thatching houses; his inner 
 life was a constant brooding over the sins of a perjured 
 and sinful nation, and the various turns of public affairs, 
 in which he traced the punishments inflicted upon us 
 by an outraged Deity, for our laying aside the Solemn 
 League and Covenant. He came up to my mother one 
 summer evening, as she was standing at her door with 
 her first-born in her arms. " Ye 're mickle pleased wi' 
 that bairn, woman," said the laird gruffly. " If the 
 French come, what wiJl ye do wi' him ? I trow ye '11 be 
 fleeing wi' him to the tap o' the Pentland Hills. But 
 ye should rather pray that they may come. Ye should 
 pray for judgments, woman judgments on a sinfu' land. 
 Pray that the Lord may pour out the vials of His wrath 
 upon us it would be for our guid." And then he went 
 on his way, leaving the pretty young mother heart- 
 chilled by his terrible words. Having known some- 
 thing of old-town worthies of this kind, there was no 
 novelty or surprise to me, a few years thereafter, 
 when I read of Habakkuk Mucklewrath in Scott's 
 Old Mortality. 
 
 1 1 had reason to know the old town in my eailiest 
 years, for our family then dwelt in it, though in a 
 modern-slated house, which my father had had built for 
 him by his father when about to be married. Our 
 ancestors had been woollen manufacturers, substantial 
 and respectable people, although living in a very plain 
 style. My father growing up at the time when the 
 
14 MEMOIR. 
 
 cotton manufacture was introduced into Glasgow, had 
 there studied it, and now conducted it on a pretty 
 extensive scale at Peebles, having sometimes as many 
 as a hundred looms in his employment. My earliest 
 recollections bring before me a neat small mansion, 
 fronting to the Eddleston Water ; a tastefully furnished 
 sitting-room, containing a concealed bed, one or two 
 other little rooms, and a kitchen ; a ground-floor full of 
 looms, and a garret full of webs and weft. Games at 
 marbles played with my elder brother on the figures of 
 the parlour carpet, when recovering from an illness, 
 come back upon me as among the pleasantest things I 
 have experienced in life ; or wandering into the work- 
 shop below, it was a great entertainment to sit beside 
 one of the weavers, and watch the movements of the 
 heddles and treddles, and hear the songs and the gossip 
 of the man. Weavers were topping operatives in those 
 days, for they could realise two pounds a week, some- 
 times even more, and many young men of good con- 
 nections had joined the trade. My father, as agent 
 for Mr Henry Monteith, for Mr M'llroy, and others, 
 in Glasgow, realised a good income, which enabled him 
 to live on an equality with the best families of the 
 place. 
 
 'To a child, of course, all things are new, and the 
 first occurrence of anything to his awakened senses 
 never fails to make a deep impression. I think I yet 
 remember the first time I observingly saw the swelling 
 green hills around our little town. I am sure I could 
 point to within ten yards of the spot where I saw the 
 first gowan and the first buttercup ; first heard the hum 
 of the mountain bee; first looked with wonder into a 
 hedge-sparrow's nest, with its curious treasure of blue 
 
WILLIE PATERSON'S BOOTS. 15 
 
 eggs. A radius of half a mile would have described the 
 entire world of my infancy : of that world every minute 
 feature remains deeply stamped within me, and will 
 while life and consciousness endure. There is a great 
 deal of studious observation in a child. Casual, trivial, 
 and thoughtless words spoken by his seniors in his 
 presence go into him, to be afterwards estimated and 
 judged of; so it is a great mistake to speak indecorously 
 before children. 
 
 * At the time when I was coming upon the stage of 
 the world, a number of old things were going out of it. 
 The Rev. Dr Dalgliesh, the minister of the parish, still 
 wore a cocked hat. He died in 1808; and I can just 
 remember seeing him one Sunday, as he walked home 
 from church, with that head-gear crowning his tall and 
 dignified figure. There were still a few men with pig- 
 tails whisking constantly over the collars of their coats. 
 Spencers still lingered in use. Boots, formerly used only 
 in riding and travelling, were also in vogue with men 
 who desired to be smartly dressed. One could either 
 have top-boots, that is, boots with a movable cincture of 
 pale leather at top, or tassel-boots, by which was meant 
 what were afterwards called Hessians, terminating in a 
 wavy line under the knee, with a tassel hanging out 
 over the middle in front. A buckish weaver, called 
 Willie Paterson, had got a pair of tassel-boots, on which 
 he could fasten tops, and thus enjoy tops or tassels at 
 his pleasure. People meeting him when he went to 
 church would say : " Willie, I see this is top-day with 
 you." Top-day or tassel-day for Willie Paterson's boots 
 was a favourite joke. As an alternative for boots were 
 gaiters to the knee, originally tight, but latterly lax, with 
 vertical foldings. 
 
16 MEMOIR. 
 
 " Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait," 
 is a line in the Rejected Addresses^ which strongly recalls 
 to me the year 1812. 
 
 ' The new town was a smarter place than the old ; yet 
 it contained many homely old thatched houses, and 
 few of any elegance. The shops were for the most part 
 confined and choky places, with what were called half- 
 doors, a bell being generally rung by customers to 
 summon the worthy trader. The shop of the candle- 
 maker was provided with a bell-pull consisting of an old 
 key dangling at the end of a cord, which was put in 
 requisition to summon " Candle Nell," as the female in 
 charge of the establishment was familiarly called. No 
 attempt was made to keep up an appearance of 
 business. All was quiet and sombre by day, and in 
 the evenings a dim candle on the counter made the 
 only difference. A favourite position of the shop- 
 keeper was to lean on his arms over the half-door, 
 gazing abroad into the vacant street, or chatting with 
 a casual by-stander. I do not think there were more 
 than three traders in the town who had any apprentice 
 or hired assistant If the husband was out for a fore- 
 noon's fishing in the Tweed, his wife was his sufficient 
 lieutenant. It seems to me remarkable that, small as 
 the concerns generally were, the family life of these 
 people was of a somewhat refined character. The tone 
 of the females was far from being vulgar. Accomplish- 
 ments, such as are now so common, were unknown; 
 but all had a good education in English, and their 
 conversation was not deficient in intelligence/ 
 
 Considering how little business was done, and also 
 the easy way in which things were conducted, one would 
 
CANDLE NELL. 17 
 
 scarcely be prepared for the genteel interior of many of 
 the dwellings, or for the tasteful dresses and courteous 
 manners of the wives of the tradesmen. Though a trifle 
 too obese, Candle Nell herself, when the shop was shut, 
 could receive company in style, and addressed in her 
 proper name, do the honours of her brother's household. 
 A considerable number of persons, as has been said, 
 kept a cow. The going forth of the town cows to their 
 pasturage on a neighbouring hill, and their return, consti- 
 tuted leading events of the day. Early in the summer 
 mornings, the inhabitants were roused by inharmonious 
 sounds blown from an ox-horn by the town-herd, who 
 leisurely perambulated the streets with a gray plaid 
 twisted around his shoulders. Then came forth the 
 cows, deliberately, one by one, from their respective 
 quarters, and took their way instinctively by the bridge 
 across the Tweed, their keeper coming up behind, to 
 urge forward the loiterers. Before taking the ascent to 
 the hill, the cows, in picturesque groups, might have 
 been seen standing within the margin of the Minister's 
 Pool, a smooth part of the river, which reflected on its 
 glistening surface the figures of the animals in various 
 attitudes, along with the surrounding scenery ; the whole 
 river, cows, and trees forming a tableau such as 
 would have been a study for Berghem or Wouvermans. 
 
 There was much pleasant intercourse among families 
 at a small cost. Scarcely any gave ceremonious dinners. 
 Invitations to tea at six o'clock were common. After 
 tea there were songs, with perhaps a round of Scottish 
 proverbs a class of sayings which, from their agreeable 
 tartness, found scope for exercise in ordinary transactions, 
 and were more especially useful in snubbing children, 
 and keeping them in remembrance of their duty. The 
 
i8 MEMOIR. 
 
 Peebles people were not behind their neighbours in the 
 art of applying these maxims. As, for example, if a 
 fastidious youth presumed to complain that his porridge 
 was not altogether to his mind, he would have for reply : 
 * Lay your wame to your winnin' ' that is, ' Suit your 
 stomach to your earnings ' a staple observation in all 
 such cases ; Or, if one of unsettled habits got into a 
 scrape, such as ' slumping ' in the ice, and coming home 
 half-drowned, instead of being commiserated, he would 
 be coolly reminded that 'An unhappy fish gets an 
 unhappy bait;' Or, if one hinted that he was hungry, 
 and would not be the worse of something to eat, he 
 would, if the application was inopportune, be favoured 
 with the advice in dietetics : ' You '11 be the better o' 
 findin' the grunds o' your stamick;' Or, if he, on the 
 other hand, asked for a drink of water shortly after 
 dinner, he would be told that ' Mickle meat taks mickle 
 weet;' by which wholesome rebuke he was instructed 
 in the excellent virtue of moderation in eating ; Or, if 
 one, when put to some kind of difficult task, said he 
 wanted assistance, he would get the proverb pitched at 
 him : * Help yoursel', and your friends will like you the 
 better ;' Or, when a family of children quarrelled among 
 themselves, and appealed to their mother for an edict 
 of pacification, she would console them with the remark : 
 'You'll all agree better when ye gang in at different 
 kirk doors.' A capital thing were these proverbs and 
 sayings for stamping out what were called notions of 
 ' uppishness ' in children, or hopes of having everything 
 their own way. 
 
 It must not, however, be inferred, from a proficiency 
 in hurling these repressive maxims, that there was any 
 actual deficiency in the affections. Along with a singular 
 
SCOTTISH PROVERBS. 19 
 
 absence of demonstrativeness, there was often a spirit 
 of true kindness. At that period, and till comparatively 
 recent times, there was no demoralising poor-law, such 
 as now exists, to steel the hearts of the people, and 
 create paupers by wholesale. Those in easy circum- 
 stances helped, and gave some little personal attention 
 to, their poorer neighbours ; and I can remember that, 
 on the occasion of a sudden death by a distressing 
 accident in the family of a labouring man, the feelings 
 of the whole community were munificently stirred up 
 in compassion. 
 
 The country was still haunted by mendicants of 
 various orders, including old decrepit women, who were 
 carried about on hand-barrows from door to door, 
 begging meal or halfpence. The town, also, was never 
 without two or three natural idiots, generally harmless 
 in character. The most interesting and amusing of 
 these was Daft Jock Grey or, to give him his proper 
 title, 'Daft Jock Grey of Gilmanscleugh ' a wanderer 
 through Roxburgh, Selkirk, and Peebles shires, who was 
 known to Sir Walter Scott, and possessed qualities not 
 unlike those assigned to the character of Davie Gellatley. 
 Jock was a kind of genius, had a great command of 
 songs, and composed a ballad, which, commencing with 
 an allusion to his own infirmity, recited, in jingling 
 rhymes, the names and qualities of a number of persons 
 whose houses he frequented in his extensive rambles. 
 It may be amusing to read this curious jingle of names 
 and places, which, as far as I remember, ran as follows, 
 though it is proper to mention that Jock seldom sang it 
 twice the same way sometimes throwing in a new 
 verse, or leaving out an old one : 
 
20 MEMOIR. 
 
 DAFT JOCK GREY'S SONG. 
 
 * There 's Daft Jock Grey o' Gilmanscleugh, 
 
 And Davie o' the Inch, 
 And when ye come to Singley, 
 They '11 help ye in a pinch. 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, 
 And Robbie Scott ca's up the rear, 
 And Caleb beats the drum.* 
 
 There are the Taits o' Caberston, 
 
 The Taits o' Holylee, 
 The ladies o' the Juniper Bank,t 
 
 They carry a' the gree. 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, &c. 
 
 There 's Lockie o' the Skirty Knows, 
 
 There 's Nicol o' Dick-neuk, 
 And Bryson o' the Priestrig, 
 
 And Hall into the Heap. 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, &c. 
 
 The three Scotts o' Commonside, 
 
 The Tamsons o' the Mill, 
 There 's Ogilvy o' Branxholm, 
 
 And Scoon o' Todgiehill. 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, &c. 
 
 The braw lads o' Fawdonside, 
 
 The lasses o' the Peel, 
 And when ye gang to Thornielee, 
 
 Ye'llca' at AshestieLJ 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, &C. 
 
 * Caleb Rutherford, town-drummer of Hawick. 
 
 t The Misses Thorburn. Mr Thorburn, farmer at Juniper Bank, 
 is reputed to have had some characteristics of Dandie Dinmont. 
 
 % At Ashestiel, Ettrick Forest, Sir Walter Scott resided with his 
 family for several years prior to 1810 ; from this place he dates 
 some of his beautiful introductions to the different cantos of Marmion. 
 
DAFT JOCK GREY. 21 
 
 There is Lord Napier o' the Lodge, 
 
 And Gawin in the Hall, 
 And Mr Charters o' Wilton Manse, 
 
 Preaches lectures to us all. 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, &c. 
 
 There are three wives in Hassendean, 
 
 And ane in Braddie-Yards, 
 And they 're away to Gittenscleugh, 
 
 And left their wheel and cards.* 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, &c. 
 
 There's Bailie Nixon, merchant, t 
 
 The Miss Moncrieffs and a', 
 And if ye gang some farther east, 
 Ye '11 come to Willie Ha'. 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, 
 
 And the laddie he 's but young, 
 And Robbie Scott ca's up the rear, 
 And Caleb beats the drum.' 
 
 Jock was also a mimic, and as such gave acceptable 
 imitations of the style of preaching of all the ministers 
 in his rounds. Before commencing an imitation, he 
 required to have an apron thrown over his head, and 
 thus he stood, like a veiled prophet, for a few moments, 
 as if recalling the appropriate inspiration. Attempts 
 had been made to get him to attend to regular labour, 
 but without effect. The minister of Selkirk* on one 
 occasion addressed him somewhat pompously : ' John, 
 you are an idle fellow; why don't you work? You 
 could at least herd a few cows/ 
 
 'Me herd!' replied Jock; 'I dinna ken corn frae 
 gerss.' That answer settled the minister. 
 
 * Hand- cards for carding wooL 
 t In Hawick. 
 
22 MEMOIR. 
 
 Hogmanay, the last day of the year,* was the grand 
 festival of all varieties of mendicants, daft folk, and 
 children generally; for there was a universal distribution 
 of oat-cakes, cheese, shortbread, and buns at the doors 
 of the inhabitants. Among those who secured a respect- 
 able dole on such occasions was the town-piper, dressed 
 in a red uniform and cocked hat, as befitted a civic 
 official. Piper Ritchie, for such was his name, enjoyed 
 a munificent salary of a pound a year from the corpora- 
 tion, along with a pair of shoes ; and it was understood 
 that, besides his dole at Hogmanay, he was entitled to 
 receive at least a groat annually from all well-disposed 
 householders. His emoluments were completed by 
 certain small fees for playing at weddings. In escorting 
 a marriage-party, he marched with becoming importance 
 in front, playing with might and main a tune called 
 Welcome hame, my Dearie which air I would be glad to 
 recover. 
 
 On Hogmanay day, tradesmen called personally with 
 their yearly accounts, of which they received payment 
 along with some appropriate refreshment. There was 
 first-footing on New-year's morning. And Handsel 
 Monday the first Monday in the year was marked by 
 tossing a profusion of ballads and penny chap-books 
 from windows among a crowd of clamorous youngsters. 
 New-year was also signalised by various domestic festiv- 
 ities. The severity of manners of a hundred years earlier 
 
 * The origin of the word Hogmanay has been very puzzling. 
 None of the ordinary explanations is worth anything. I venture to 
 suggest that it is a familiar corruption from an old cry in French : 
 Aux gueux mener (Bring to the beggars). The calling out of the 
 word at doors by children and mendicants is in this view quite 
 appropriate. 
 
LYKE-WAKES. 23 
 
 had worn off. There was unrebuked joviality at births 
 and marriages, and even in a solemn way at deaths. In 
 the house of the deceased, on the evening before the 
 funeral, there was a Lyke-wake, consisting of a succes- 
 sion of services of refreshments, presided over by an 
 undertaker, one of whose professional recommenda- 
 tions consisted in saying a fresh grace to each batch 
 of mourners. Laird Grieve, an aged and facetious 
 carpenter, carried off the chief business in coffin-making, 
 in consequence of being able to say seven graces of 
 considerable length without repetition. The consump- 
 tion of whisky at these lugubrious entertainments was 
 incredible, and sometimes encroached seriously on the 
 means of families. After the funeral, there was an 
 entertainment called the Dredgy, which was a degree 
 more cheerful than the preceding potations. 
 
 Although the belief in witchcraft had died out gener- 
 ally, it was still entertained in a limited way by the less 
 enlightened classes. I have a recollection of a poor 
 old woman being reputed as a witch, and that it was 
 not safe to pass her cottage, without placing the thumb 
 across the fourth finger, so as to form the figure of the 
 cross. This species of exorcism I practised under 
 instructions from boys older than myself. I likewise 
 remember seeing salt thrown on the fire, as a guard 
 against the evil eye, when aged women, suspected of 
 not being quite canny, happened to call at a neigh- 
 bour's dwelling. The aged postman, as was confidently 
 reported, never went on his rounds with the letters 
 without a sprig of- rowan tree (mountain ash) in his 
 pocket, as a preservative against malevolent influences. 
 There was no police. Offenders against the law were 
 usually captured by a town-officer, at the verbal 
 
24 MEMOIR. 
 
 command of the provost, who administered justice in an 
 off-hand way behind his counter, amidst miscellaneous 
 dealings with customers, and ordered off alleged delin- 
 quents to prison without keeping any record of the 
 transaction. Dismission from confinement took place 
 in the like abrupt and arbitrary manner. 
 
 As will be observed, there was still much of an old- 
 world air about Peebles. The transit to and from it 
 was tedious and expensive. In winter, there was a 
 dearth of fuel, causing the poorer classes to rely for 
 warmth on that species of deposit from cows, mixed 
 with coal-culm and baked in the sun, which we learn 
 from the Malmesbury Papers was used as fuel in Cam- 
 bridgeshire after the middle of last century. Although 
 the town had existed for a thousand years or more, it 
 possessed no printing press. Only two or three news- 
 papers came to it in the course of a week, and these 
 were handed about till they were in tatters. Advertise- 
 ments were made by tuck of drum ; the official employed 
 for the purpose being an old soldier, a tough little man 
 with a queue, known as ' Drummer Will.' It was told 
 of him that he had gallantly beat a drum at the battle 
 of Quebec until the whole regiment had perished, he 
 alone being the survivor, and still vigorously beating 
 his drum like a hero amidst fire and shot. Now settled 
 down as an officer of the civic corporation, Drummer 
 Will usefully performed the triple duty of acting as 
 jailor, constable, and agent for advertisements, which, 
 after collecting an audience, he read by means of a 
 pair of Dutch spectacles, and always pronounced 
 advertisements* 
 
 Robert describes the way that the more affluent 
 burghers often spent their evenings. 
 
MISS RITCHIE. 25 
 
 ' The absence of excitement in the ordinary life of a 
 small town, made it next to impossible for a man of social 
 spirit to avoid convivial evening meetings, and these were 
 frequent. The favourite howff\i2 an old-fashioned inn 
 kept by a certain Miss Ritchie, a clever sprightly woman 
 of irreproachable character, who, so far from the obse- 
 quiousness of her profession, required to be treated by 
 her guests with no small amount of deference, and, in 
 especial, would never allow them to have liquor after 
 a decent hour. When that hour arrived I think it 
 was the Forbes-Mackenzie hour of eleven it was vain 
 for them to ask a fresh supply. "Na, na; gang hame to 
 your wives and bairns," was her dictum, and it was 
 impossible for them to sit much longer. "Meg Dods" in 
 St Ronaris Well is what I would call a rough and strong 
 portraiture of Miss Ritchie a Miss Ritchie of a lower 
 sphere of life and, if I may judge from a conversation 
 I once had with Sir Walter Scott regarding the supposed 
 prototype, I think he knew little about her. The tout- 
 ensemble of the actual inn a laird's town-house of the 
 seventeenth century, with a grande cour in front, acces- 
 sible by an arched gate surmounted by a dial with the 
 little low-ceiled rooms, and Miss Ritchie herself, ruling 
 house, and servants, and guests with her clear head and 
 ready tongue, jocosely sharp with everybody, forms a 
 picture in my mind to which I should now vainly seek 
 to find a parallel. 
 
 ' Into one of Miss Ritchie's parlours, or some similar 
 place, would little groups of the burghers converge every 
 evening after the shutting up of their shops, there to 
 talk over the last public news, or any petty occurrence 
 that might have taken place nearer home. There was 
 hardly any declared liberalism among them, for the 
 
25 MEMOIR. 
 
 exigences of the country, under the great struggle with 
 Bonaparte, had extinguished nearly all differences of 
 opinion. Dear to man is the face of his brother man ; 
 pleasant it is everywhere to hear this brother man's voice, 
 and have an interchange of ideas with him. In that 
 lifeless little town, to have denied the inhabitants these 
 social meetings, would have been to practise the greatest 
 cruelty ; and on a liberal view, admitting that the means 
 of a more legitimate excitement were not to be had, the 
 jug of whisky toddy at Miss Ritchie's in the evening 
 puts on a defensible aspect. Toddy might there be 
 regarded as the very cement of society an attraction 
 of cohesion, without which a small country town would 
 have been pulverised and dispersed into space. I sup- 
 pose the same end was served in former times by two- 
 penny ale, a liquor of which only the fame remained in 
 my youthful days ; but since the middle of the eighteenth 
 century, usquebaugh had been coming into general use, 
 and a hot solution of it with sugar, under a name intro- 
 duced (strange to say) from the East Indies namely, 
 toddy, was already universal. The decoction was 
 made in stone-ware quart jugs, and poured into the 
 glasses of the company, again and again, in successive 
 rounds, as soon as each person had drained off what 
 was before him; those who lagged in their potations 
 being always duly prompted and pushed on by their 
 neighbours. They always met under the belief that 
 they were going to have just one jug; but somehow, 
 when that was ended, there was always a painful feeling 
 of surprise, and to have a second seemed only a doing 
 of justice to themselves, under an unaccountable wrong 
 continually inflicted upon them by the nature of things. 
 Matters being so far righted, they might have been 
 
BAILIE GRIEVE. 27 
 
 expected to see the propriety of going home to their 
 beds; but here came in a local circumstance which 
 interested them to an opposite conclusion. The burgh 
 happened to have a most bibulous coat-armorial, con- 
 sisting of three fishes (by the way, I suspect that fishes 
 drink no more than land animals do, though the con- 
 trary is always supposed) ; and so, when the second jug 
 was emptied, some one was sure to mention " Peebles 
 Arms," thereby hinting the duty they were under, in 
 loyalty to the town, to have a third jug. Such an argu- 
 ment in such circumstances was irresistible; and thus 
 it came about that the one virtuous jug of the intention 
 always proved to be three in the guilty event. 
 
 'Our neighbour, Laird Grieve, the aged joiner and 
 undertaker, had a son, "Tarn," who succeeded to his 
 business. Tarn was a blithe, hearty man, with an old- 
 fashioned gentility in his aspect, and was a general 
 favourite in the town, which he served for many years in 
 the capacity of a bailie. He had a small carpenter's 
 shop, and a saw-pit, and an appearance of uncut logs 
 about his premises ; but I never could connect the idea 
 of either work or business with Bailie Grieve. He 
 continued, however, all through life to have a kind of 
 eminence as a maker of fishing-rods. He was also an 
 excellent angler, in which capacity he was well known to 
 the late Professor Wilson. 
 
 * It used to be very pleasant, in returning to Peebles 
 as a visitor, to call upon Tarn at his neat, small, white 
 house, near the bottom of the old town, where, in a 
 miniature terraced garden with a neat white railing, I 
 saw tulips for the first time, and thought them the 
 prettiest objects in creation. Being a widower and 
 without children, the bailie had an old woman, Bet, for 
 
28 MEMOIR. 
 
 a general servant and housekeeper ; and her reception 
 of us, as she opened the door, and shewed us into her 
 master's little, low-ceiled parlour, was always of an 
 enthusiastic character. Presently there would be a gust 
 of kindly and somewhat vociferous talk, Bet standing 
 within the door (but holding it by the handle) all the 
 time, and lending in her word whenever she had 
 occasion. Dear traits of the old simple world, how 
 delightful to recall you in these scenes of comparative 
 refinement and comparative stiffness and frigidity!' 
 
 Among that considerable part of the population who 
 lived down closes and in old thatched cottages, news 
 circulated at third or fourth hand, or was merged in 
 conversation on religious or other topics. My brother 
 and I derived much enjoyment, not to say instruction, 
 from the singing of old ballads, and the telling of 
 legendary stories, by a kind old female relative, the 
 wife of a decayed tradesman, who dwelt in one of 
 the ancient closes. At her humble fireside, under 
 the canopy of a huge chimney, where her half-blind and 
 superannuated husband sat dozing in a chair, the battle 
 of Corunna and other prevailing news was strangely 
 mingled with disquisitions on the Jewish wars. The 
 source of this interesting conversation was a well-worn 
 copy of L'Estrange's translation of Josephus, a small 
 folio of date 1720. The envied possessor of the work 
 was Tarn Fleck, ' a flichty chield,' as he was considered, 
 who, not particularly steady at his legitimate employ- 
 ment, struck out a sort of profession by going about in 
 the evenings with his Josephus, which he read as the 
 current news ; the only light he had for doing so being 
 usually that imparted by the flickering blaze of a piece 
 
TAM FLECK. 29 
 
 of parrot coal. It was his practice not to read more 
 than from two to three pages at a time, interlarded with 
 sagacious remarks of his own by way of foot-notes, and 
 in this way he sustained an extraordinary interest in the 
 narrative. Retailing the matter with great equability in 
 different households, Tarn kept all at the same point of 
 information, and wound them up with a corresponding 
 anxiety as to the issue of some moving event in Hebrew 
 annals. Although in this way he went through a course 
 of Josephus yearly, the novelty somehow never seemed 
 to wear off. 
 
 'Weel, Tarn, what's the news the nicht?' would old 
 Geordie Murray say, as Tarn entered with his Josephus 
 under his arm, and seated himself at the family fireside. 
 
 'Bad news, bad news/ replied Tarn. 'Titus has 
 begun to besiege Jerusalem it 's gaun to be a terrible 
 business ;' and then he opened his budget of intelligence, 
 to which all paid the most reverential attention. The 
 protracted and severe famine which was endured by the 
 besieged Jews, was a theme which kept several families 
 in a state of agony for a week ; and when Tarn in his 
 readings came to the final conflict and destruction of 
 the city by the Roman general, there was a perfect 
 paroxysm of horror. At such seances my brother and I 
 were delighted listeners. All honour to the memory of 
 Tarn Fleck. 
 
 In the old-town community, where he often figured, 
 our more immediate paternal ancestors, as enjoying the 
 fruits of uninterrupted frugality and industry for centuries, 
 had attained to a somewhat enviable position. My 
 grandfather, William Chambers, continuing the occupa- 
 tion of his predecessors, carried on the manufacture of 
 woollen and linen cloths, on what would now be called 
 
30 MEMOIR. 
 
 an antiquated and meagre scale, in a long thatch'ed 
 building at the corner of a quadrangle which in old 
 times had formed the market-place of the town. One 
 end of this homely structure was his dwelling, consisting 
 of two apartments ; and in the other were several hand- 
 looms and warping machines. All the family laboured 
 according to their ability, and the whole arrangements 
 were of a thrifty kind, not absolutely enjoined by the 
 pressure of daily wants, but conformable to the ordinary 
 usages of the period. 
 
 The whole establishment might be taken as a type of a 
 state of society once common in the smaller provincial 
 towns of Scotland; and contrasting it with the present 
 state of things, we may observe the remarkable advances 
 which have been made in the country since the latter part 
 of the eighteenth century. Here was a man of some 
 consideration ran independent manufacturer, so to 
 speak and in no respect penurious, living in a style 
 inferior to that of any mechanic in the present day 
 with a wage of only twenty shillings a week. No 
 elegances, nor what we now deem indispensable com- 
 forts. When people are inclined to grumble with their 
 accommodations, and to speak of the dearth of luxuries, 
 would it not be well for them, in however small a degree, 
 to compare their condition with that of their grand- 
 fathers three-quarters of a century ago ? 
 
 Upright, pious, and benevolent, my grandfather very 
 acceptably held the office of an elder of the church for 
 the last thirty years of his existence. To the poor and 
 wretched he was an ever-ready friend, adviser, and 
 consoler. I have heard it related that on Sunday 
 evenings he would return exhausted with his religious 
 peregrinations and exercises having, in the course of a 
 
MARGARET KERR. 31 
 
 few hours, visited perhaps as many as a dozen sick or 
 dying persons, and offered up an extempore and suitable 
 prayer with each. At his death, in 1799, this worthy 
 man left his widow and second son, William, to carry 
 on the business ; my father James, the elder son, having 
 about the same period begun his cotton-manufacturing 
 concern. 
 
 Of this widow, my grandmother, I retain some recol- 
 lections. According to an old custom in Scotland, she 
 was, though married, known only by her maiden name, 
 which was Margaret Kerr. Margaret was a little woman, 
 of plain appearance, a great stickler on points of con- 
 troversial divinity, a rigorous critic of sermons, and a 
 severe censor of what she considered degenerating 
 manners. She possessed a good deal of ' character/ and 
 might almost be taken for the original of Mause Head- 
 rigg. As the wife of a ruling elder, she possibly 
 imagined that she was entitled to exercise a certain 
 authority in ecclesiastical matters. An anecdote is told 
 of her having once taken the venerable Dr Dalgliesh, 
 the parish minister, through hands. In presence of a 
 number of neighbours, she thought fit to lecture him on 
 that particularly delicate subject, his wife's dress : ' It 
 was a sin and a shame to see sae mickle finery.' 
 
 The minister did not deny the charge, but dexterously 
 encountered her with the Socratic method of argument : 
 ' So, Margaret, you think that ornament is useless and 
 sinful in a lady's dress ?' 
 
 ' Certainly I do.' 
 
 ' Then, may I ask why you wear that ribbon around 
 your cap ? A piece of cord would surely do quite as 
 well.' 
 
 Disconcerted with this unforeseen turn of affairs, 
 
32 MEMOIR. 
 
 Margaret determinedly rejoined in an under-tone : 
 1 Ye '11 no hae lang to speer sic a like question.' 
 
 Next day her cap was bound with a piece of white 
 tape ; and never afterwards, till the day of her death, 
 did she wear a ribbon, or any morsel of ornament. I 
 am doubtful if we could match this out of Scotland. 
 For a novelist to depict characters of this kind, he would 
 require to see them in real life ; no imagination could 
 reach them. Sir Walter Scott both saw and talked with 
 them, for they were not extinct in his day. 
 
 The mortifying rebuff about the ribbon perhaps had 
 some influence in making my ancestress a Seceder. 
 As she lived near the manse, I am afraid she must have 
 been a good deal of a thorn in the side of the parish 
 minister, notwithstanding all the palliatives of her good- 
 natured husband, the elder. At length an incident 
 occurred, which sent her abruptly off to a recently 
 erected meeting-house, to which a promising young 
 preacher, Mr Leckie, had been appointed. 
 
 It was a bright summer morning about five o'clock, 
 when Margaret left her husband's side as usual, and 
 went out to see her cow attended to. Before three 
 minutes had elapsed, her husband was aroused by her 
 coming in with dismal cries : ' Eh, sirs ! eh, sirs ! did I 
 ever think to live to see the day? O man, O man, 
 O William this is a terrible thing indeed ! Could I 
 ever have thought to see't?' 
 
 1 Gracious, woman ! ' exclaimed the worthy elder, by 
 this time fully awake, * what is 't ? Is the coo deid ? ' 
 for it seemed to him that no greater calamity could have 
 been expected to produce such doleful exclamations. 
 
 * The coo deid ! ' responded Margaret ; ' waur, waur, 
 ten times waur. There 's Dr Dalgliesh only now gaun 
 
WAUR THAN THE COO DEID. 33 
 
 hame at five o'clock in the morning. It's awfu', it's 
 awfu' ! What will things come to ? ' 
 
 The elder, though a pattern of propriety himself, is 
 not recorded as having taken any but a mild view of 
 the minister's conduct, more particularly as he knew 
 that the patron of the parish was at Miss Ritchie's inn, 
 and that the reverend divine might have been detained 
 rather late with him against his will. The strenuous 
 Margaret drew no such charitable conclusions. She 
 joined the Secession congregation next day, and never 
 again attended the parish church. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 EARLY YEARS CONTINUED iSoo TO 1813. 
 
 TDEFORE introducing my mother to the modest 
 *~* mansion, the first home of her married life, 
 situated on the north bank of the Eddleston Water, a 
 small tributary of the Tweed, something characteristic 
 of old Scotland may be said of her parentage : and 
 here we return to Robert's manuscript. 
 
 ' In the middle of the last century, the farm of Jedder- 
 field, situated on the hill-face above Neidpath Castle, a 
 mile from Peebles, the property of the Earl of March, was 
 occupied, at the rent of eighteen pounds, by an honest 
 man named David Grieve. While the noble proprietor 
 was pursuing N his career of sport and debauchery in 
 London the course which was consummated by him 
 many years after, under the title which he finally 
 acquired of Duke of Queensberry (familiarly Old Q.), 
 the tenant, David Grieve, reared on that small bit of 
 his lordship's domains a family of fourteen children, 
 most of whom floated on by their own merits to much 
 superior positions in life one to be a merchant in 
 Manchester, two to similar positions in Edinburgh, one 
 to be a surgeon in the East India Company's service, 
 
NEWBY. 35 
 
 and so forth. This family afforded an example of the 
 virtuous frugal life of the rural people of Scotland 
 previous to that extension of industry which brought 
 wealth and many comforts into our country. The 
 breakfast was oatmeal porridge-; the supper, a thinner 
 farinaceous composition named sowens ; for the dinner, 
 there was seldom butcher-meat : the ordinary mess was 
 a thin broth called Lenten kail, composed of a ball of 
 oatmeal kneaded up with butter, boiled in an infusion 
 of cabbage, and eaten with barley or pease-meal 
 bannocks. Strange as it may seem, a people of many 
 fine qualities were reared in this plain style, a people of 
 bone and muscle, mentally as well as physically 
 "buirdly chiels and clever hizzies," as Burns says. 
 There was not a particle of luxury in that Sabine life ; 
 hardly a single article of the kinds sold in shops was 
 used. The food was all obtained from the farm, and 
 the clothing was wholly of homespun. I cannot be 
 under any mistake about it, for I have often heard the 
 household and its ways described by my maternal grand- 
 mother, who was David Grieve's eldest daughter. Even 
 the education of the children was conducted at home, 
 the mother giving them lessons while seated at her 
 spinning-wheel. 
 
 ' Janet, the eldest girl, was wedded at eighteen by a 
 middle-aged farmer, named William Gibson, who rented a 
 large tract of pasturage belonging to Dr Hay of Haystoun. 
 This farm, called Newby, was not less than seven miles 
 long; it commenced near Haystoun, about two miles 
 from Peebles, and at the other extremity bordered on 
 Blackhouse, in Selkirkshire, where the Ettrick Shepherd 
 spent his youthful days. The Gibsons were a numerous 
 clan in Tweeddale, and some of them, including the 
 
36 MEMOIR. 
 
 tenant of Newby, were comparatively wealthy. William 
 Gibson had never less than a hundred score of sheep on 
 his farm, and such was the abundance of ewe-milk, that, 
 for a part of the year, his wife made a cheese of that 
 material every day.' The ewes were milked early in 
 the morning by lasses, who for this purpose trooped off 
 with bowies, or pails, on their heads from the home-, 
 stead to sheep-pens among the hills a fashion of rural 
 life commemorated in the songs of Ramsay and other 
 Scottish poets : 
 
 ' I Ve heard the liltin' at the ewe milkin', 
 
 Lasses a-liltin' before dawn of day ; 
 Now there *s a moanin' on ilka green loanin' 
 The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.' 
 
 In marrying William Gibson, the reputedly rich 
 farmer of Newby, Janet Grieve was thought to make 
 an enviable match, and of this there were some outward 
 tokens. The marriage took place in 1768. On the 
 day preceding the event, Janet's 'providing,' which 
 was sumptuous, was despatched in a cart from Jedder- 
 field to what was to be her new home; the load of 
 various articles being conspicuously surmounted by a 
 spinning-wheel, decorated with ribbons of different 
 colours. The marriage was signalised by more than 
 the customary festivities, in the midst of which the 
 young and blooming bride was placed behind her 
 husband on horseback ; and thus, after pacing grandly 
 through Peebles with a following of rustic cavaliers, the 
 wedded pair arrived at Newby. In the present day, 
 we should in vain look for this old farm-establish- 
 ment, for every vestige of it is gone ; and we only dis- 
 cover the spot, which is the edge of a gowany bank 
 
ANDREW GEMMELLS. 37 
 
 overhanging Haystoim Burn, by a decayed tree that 
 flourished in the corner of the small garden. 
 
 ' There was a much less frugal style of life at 
 Newby than at Jedderfield. Although the home- 
 stead consisted of only a cottage, containing a but 
 and a ben that is, a kitchen and parlour, with the 
 usual appendages of a barn, &c., it gave shelter every 
 night to groups of the vagrant people, the multitude of 
 whom was a matter of remark and lamentation a few 
 years before to Fletcher of Salton and other patriots. 
 On a Saturday night there would be as many as twenty 
 of these poor creatures received by the farmer for food 
 and lodging till Monday morning. Some of them, who 
 had established a good character, were entertained in 
 the farmer's ha\ where himself, his wife, and servants 
 ordinarily sat, as was the fashion of that time. The 
 family rather relished this society, for from hardly any 
 other source did they ever obtain any of the news of the 
 country. One well-remembere'd guest of this order was 
 a robust old man named Andrew Gemmells, who had 
 been a dragoon in his youth, but had long assumed the 
 blue gown and badge of a king's bedesman, or licensed 
 beggar, together with the meal-pocks and long staff. 
 A rough and ready tongue, and a picturesque if not 
 venerable aspect, had recommended Andrew in many 
 households superior to my grandfather's. 
 
 1 Sir Walter Scott, who commemorates him under the 
 name of Edie Ochiltree, tells how a laird was found one 
 day playing at draughts with Gemmells, the only mark of 
 distinction of rank presented in the case being that the 
 laird sat in his parlour, and the blue-gown in the court 
 outside, the board being placed on the sill of the open 
 window between. I can corroborate the view which we 
 
33 MEMOIR. 
 
 thus acquire of the old beggar's position, by stating that 
 the guidwife of Newby learned the game of draughts 
 commonly called in Scotland the dam-brod from 
 Andrew Gemmells, and often played with him at her hall 
 fireside. Somewhat to his disgust, the pupil became in 
 time the equal of the master, and a visitor one day 
 backed her against him for a guinea, which the old man 
 did not scruple to stake, and which he could easily have 
 paid if unsuccessful, as he carried a good deal of money 
 about his person. When it appeared, however, that she 
 was about to gain the game, Andrew lost his temper, or 
 affected to do so, and, hastily snatching up the board, 
 threw the " men " into the ash-pit. Andrew circulated 
 all through the counties of Peebles, Selkirk, and Rox- 
 burgh, going from house to house, and getting an awmos 
 (alms), with lodging if necessary, at each, appreciated 
 as an original wherever he came everywhere civilly 
 and even kindly treated. It must have been on the 
 whole a pleasant life for the old man, but one that 
 could only be so while the primitive simple style of 
 farm-life subsisted that is, while the farmer, his wife, 
 and children, still herded in the same room with their 
 servants, and were not above holding converse with the 
 remembered beggar. Perhaps poor Andrew found at 
 last that things were taking an unfavourable turn for 
 him, for he died in an out-house at a farm in the parish 
 of Roxburgh, in the month of February too (1794). 
 
 'My grandmother was wedded, and went, as has 
 been said, to her husband's house at Newby, in 1768. 
 She was a good-looking, portly woman, bearing a con- 
 siderable resemblance to a profile portrait of Madame 
 Roland, the famous heroine of the French Revolution. 
 The "leddies " of Haystoun, sisters and daughters of the 
 
THE PI A YSTOUN LED DIES. 39 
 
 landlord, Dr Hay, felt an interest in the pretty young 
 wife, and put themselves on familiar terms with her. 
 They would send a message to her on Saturday, asking 
 if she designed to go to church at Peebles next day, 
 and, if so, making an appointment with her to join 
 their party. The five or six " leddies," and the young 
 guidwife of Newby, might have been seen next morning 
 picking their steps along the road to Peebles, each 
 wearing her pretty checked plaid or mantilla over her 
 head such being the old Scottish succedaneum for a 
 bonnet A most interesting group it must have been, 
 for the Hays were all handsome people, and the young 
 guidwife was reckoned the bonniest woman in Peebles- 
 shire in her day. A lively gossiping conversation was 
 kept up. The " leddies " would be telling their young 
 rustic friend of the assemblies they had been attending 
 in Edinburgh, where Miss Nicky Murray (sister of the 
 Chief-justice Earl of Mansfield) was in the height of her 
 authority; the guidwife probably telling them in turn 
 of the results of the lambing season, or some bit of 
 country news. 
 
 ' In the second year of my grandmother's married 
 life, one of her Haystoun friends, the daughter of 
 Dr Hay, was married, and taken to a permanent 
 residence in Edinburgh by Sir William Forbes, the 
 banker a man who enjoyed as much of the public 
 esteem in Scotland as any man living during his time, 
 whose memory has been embalmed in the verse of Scott, 
 and whose autobiography I had much pleasure in editing 
 a few years ago, through the impression made upon me 
 regarding him by my grandmother's recollections. Two 
 unmarried Misses Hay, who survived to an extreme old 
 age, always kept up their intimacy with my grandmother, 
 
40 MEMOIR. 
 
 and I remember " Miss Ailie " calling upon her in Edin- 
 burgh about 1815. Miss Ailie was understood to be 
 above ninety at that time, but she never seemed to 
 admit or acknowledge the progress of time, and time 
 really seemed to have very little to do with her. A 
 question about somebody's age arose, and I recollect 
 the old lady saying, rather snappishly, and with the air 
 of one whose words admitted of no reply : " As to age, 
 it's a subject that was never mentioned in my father's 
 family." Misses Ailie and Betty Hay spent their latter 
 days in a flat in West Nicolson Street, Edinburgh, and 
 only once during a great number of years revisited the 
 ancient paternal mansion in Peeblesshire. I was at 
 Newby not long after, and heard' from the farmer how 
 the old ladies came and wandered about the place, 
 lingering fondly in every romantic nook which they had 
 known in former years, and declaring that they thought 
 they could have recognised the place by the smell of 
 the flowers. 
 
 'I feel impelled here to remark the pleasant old 
 fashion of calling ladies by some familiar form of 
 their Christian name. The world was full of Miss 
 Betties, Miss Peggies, and Miss Beenies long ago nay, 
 the daughters of dukes and earls were Lady Madies, 
 Lady Lizzies, and Lady Kates. There was something 
 very endearing in the custom. It brought high and low 
 together on the common ground of family fireside life. 
 Your Miss Elizabeths and Lady Catherines seem a 
 people in a different sphere, beyond the range of our 
 sympathies. I have heard a gentleman say that, in the 
 family of which he was one, all went well while they 
 continued to call each other by the pet names of their 
 nursery days ; and that, on a resolution being formed to 
 
SAGACITY OF SHEPHERD'S DOG. 41 
 
 exchange these for the formal Christian names, there 
 ensued a marked diminution of their mutual affection, 
 and they never afterwards were the same thing to each 
 other that they had been. This fact seems to me one 
 well worth bearing in mind. 
 
 * My grandmother and her maids were generally up at 
 an early hour in the morning to attend to the ewes, and 
 their time for going to rest must have consequently been 
 an early one. There was always, however, a period, 
 called " between gloaming and supper-time," during 
 which another industry was practised. Then it was that 
 the wheels were brought out for the spinning of the yarn 
 which was to constitute the clothing of the family. And 
 I often think that it must have been a pleasing sight in 
 that humble hall the handsome young mistress amidst 
 her troop of maidens, all busy with foot and finger, 
 while the shepherds and their master, and one or two 
 favoured gaberlunzies, would be telling stories or cracking 
 jokes for the general entertainment, or some one with 
 a good voice would be singing the songs of Ramsay and 
 Hamilton. At a certain time of the year, the guidwife 
 had to lay aside the ordinary little wheel, by which lint 
 was spun, and take to the " muckle wheel," which was 
 required for the production of woollen thread, the 
 material of the goodman's clothes, or else the " reel," on 
 which she reduced the product of the little wheel to 
 hanks for the weaver. Even the Misses Hay were great 
 lint spinners, and I suspect that their familiar acquaint- 
 ance with the guidwife of Newby depended somewhat 
 on their common devotion to the wheel. 
 
 ' It was on this farm of Newby, while in the posses- 
 sion of Mr Gibson, in the year 1772, that there occurred 
 a case of the sagacity of the shepherd's dog, which has 
 
42 MEMOIR. 
 
 often been adverted to in books, but seldom with correct- 
 ness as to the details. A store-farmer, in another part of 
 the county, had commenced a system of sheep-stealing, 
 which he was believed to have practised without detec- 
 tion for several years. At length, a ewe which had 
 been taken amongst other sheep from Newby, reappeared 
 on the farm, bearing a birn (Anglice, brand) on her face 
 in addition to that of her true owner. The animal was 
 believed to have been attracted to her former home by 
 the instinct of affection towards the lamb from whom 
 she had been separated, and her return was the more 
 remarkable as it involved the necessity of her crossing 
 the river Tweed. The shepherd, James Hislop, did 
 not fail to report the reappearance of the ewe to his 
 master, and it was not long before they ascertained 
 whose brand it was which had been impressed over Mr 
 Gibson's. As many sheep had been for some time 
 missed out of the stock, it was thought proper that 
 Hislop should pay a visit to Mr Murdison's farm, where 
 he quickly discovered a considerable number of sheep 
 bearing Mr Gibson's brand O, all having Mr Murdison's, 
 the letter T, superimposed. In short, Murdison and 
 his shepherd Miller were apprehended, tried, convicted, 
 and duly hanged in the Grassmarket a startling exhibi- 
 tion, considering the position of the sufferers in life, and 
 made the more so by the humbler man choosing to 
 come upon the scaffold in his "dead-clothes." The 
 long-continued success of the crime of these wretched 
 men was found to have depended on the wonderful 
 human-like sense of Miller's dog Yarrow. Accompanied 
 by Yarrow, the man would take an opportunity of 
 visiting a neighbouring farm and looking through the 
 flocks. He had there only to point out certain sheep 
 
JEAN GIBSON. 43 
 
 to his sagacious companion, who would come that night, 
 select each animal so pointed out, bring them together, 
 and drive them across country, and, moreover, across 
 the Tweed, to his master's farm, never once undergoing 
 detection. The story ran that the dog was hanged 
 soon after his master, as being thought a dangerous 
 creature in a country full of flocks ; but I would hope 
 that this was -a false rumour, and my grandmother, who 
 might have known all the circumstances connected with 
 the case, never affirmed its truth.' 
 
 About 1780, Mr Gibson retired with a moderate 
 competency to Peebles, where he concluded his days. 
 Here were born to him a girl and boy, who at his death 
 were left in charge of their mother and several appointed 
 guardians. Unfortunately, as regards these children, 
 their mother made a second marriage with a teacher, 
 Mr Robert Noble, and in the short space of two to 
 three years she was again left a widow, with an addition 
 of two boys, Robert and David, without any provision 
 whatever from this new connection. To the two young 
 Gibsons, Jean and her brother William, this affair led 
 to much domestic unhappiness, along with a desire to 
 escape from it in the best way possible. Jean grew up 
 an uncommonly beautiful girl, and being in some small 
 degree an heiress, had a number of admirers, one of 
 them being my father, to whom she was married ; and 
 the young pair began housekeeping in the neat mansion 
 already described. 
 
 This marriage took place in May 1799. I was born 
 in less than a year afterwards, and, as has been said, 
 Robert was born in 1802. My furthest stretch of 
 memory pictures my mother as a gentle ladylike person, 
 
44 MEMOIR. 
 
 slender in frame, punctiliously tasteful in dress, and 
 beautiful in features, but with an expression of blended 
 pensiveness and cheerfulness, indicative of the position 
 into which she had been brought. Even as a child I 
 could see she had sorrows perhaps regrets. It might 
 have been safe to say that her union had been * ill 
 fated.' 
 
 It is not, however, to be assumed from this circumstance 
 that my father was undeserving of regard. He possessed 
 numerous estimable qualities, but in association with 
 these, a pliancy of disposition, which, according to the lan- 
 guage of the world, renders a man 'his own worst enemy.' 
 In my experience in private life, I have never known 
 any one more conscientious ; but he was inconsider- 
 ate, easily misled, wanted fortitude, and was constantly 
 exposed to imposition. Aspiring in his tastes and 
 notions, with a fund of humour, and an immense love for 
 music, he may be said to have taken a lead in the town 
 for his general knowledge. He made some progress in 
 scientific attainments. Affected like others at the time 
 with the fascinating works of James Ferguson on 
 astronomy, he had a kind of rage for that branch of 
 study, which he pursued by means of a tolerably good 
 telescope, in company with Mungo Park, the African 
 traveller, who had settled as a surgeon in Peebles, and 
 one or two other acquaintances. 
 
 He often lamented that his parents had not followed 
 out a design of bestowing on him a liberal education. 
 Supposing him to have been under some delusion in 
 this respect, it could, I think, have been nothing but a 
 sincere love of literature that induced him to acquire 
 a copy of the Encyclopedia Britannica, at a time when 
 works of this expensive nature were purchased only by 
 
JAMIE HALL. 45 
 
 the learned and affluent. The possession of this volu- 
 minous mass of knowledge in no small degree helped 
 to create a taste for reading in my own, and more par- 
 ticularly my brother's mind ; at all events, a familiarity 
 with the volumes of this great work is among the oldest 
 of my recollections. Nor can I omit to mention other 
 agreeable reminiscences of these early days. My father, 
 as an amateur, was an excellent and untiring performer 
 on the German flute, an instrument which shared his 
 affections with his telescope. Seated at the open window 
 of his little parlour in calm summer gloamings, he would 
 play an endless series of Scottish airs, which might be 
 heard along the Eddleston Water; then, as the clear 
 silvery moon and planets arose to illumine the growing 
 darkness, out would be brought his telescope, which 
 being planted carefully on its stand on my mother's 
 tea-table, there ensued a critical inspection of the firma- 
 ment and its starry host. From circumstances of this 
 kind, discussions about the satellites of Jupiter and the 
 belts of Saturn are embedded in reminiscences of my 
 early years. 
 
 Once or twice a year my father had occasion to go 
 to Glasgow in connection with business arrangements. 
 The journey, upwards of forty miles, was performed on 
 foot, in company with Jamie Hall, a stocking-manu- 
 facturer, who was somewhat of an oddity. They were 
 usually two days on the road. Hall made a point of 
 paying his way in pairs of stockings, of which he 
 carried a choice stock on his back, calculated to settle 
 all the reckonings till he arrived at the Spoutmouth in 
 the Gallowgate. In one of these visits to Glasgow, my 
 father, through his love of music, purchased a spinet, 
 which, arriving on the top of the carrier's cart, created 
 
46 MEMOIR. 
 
 some perturbation in the household. It was a heedless 
 acquisition, for there was no place to put it, except in 
 the garret, among heaps of warps and bundles of weft. 
 There, accordingly, where there was barely standing- 
 room, the unfortunate spinet was deposited, and became 
 an object of musical indulgence sometimes for hours, in 
 which enjoyment all sublunary cares were forgot. 
 
 His musical accomplishments rendered my father's 
 society peculiarly attractive. He had a good voice, 
 and sung the Scottish songs with considerable effect; 
 consequently, he was much in request at convivialities, 
 to which, from a fondness for lively conversation, he 
 had no particular objection. There, indeed, lay my 
 father's weakness too slight a regard for personal 
 responsibilities. His indifference in this respect could 
 not fail to throw additional obligations on my mother, 
 whose destiny it was to confront and overcome in- 
 numerable embarrassments. Acquainted with only the 
 elementary branches of education, and unskilled in 
 any fashionable accomplishments, she nevertheless 
 possessed a strong understanding. I might truly say 
 that, both in appearance and manners, she was by 
 nature a lady, and circumstances made her a heroine. 
 Delicate in frame, and with generally poor health, she 
 was ill adapted for the fatigues and anxieties which she 
 had to encounter ; but such was her tact and dexterity, 
 as well as her determined resolution, that she bore and 
 overcame trials which I feel assured would have sunk 
 many in like circumstances 'to the depths of despair. 
 What she did may afterwards appear. Meanwhile, a 
 number of young children demanded her care. 
 
 Robert and I had a strange congenital malformation. 
 We were sent into the world with six fingers on each 
 
KIRSTY CRANSTON. 47 
 
 hand, and six toes on each foot. By the neighbours, as 
 I understand, this was thought particularly lucky but 
 it proved anything but lucky for one of us. In my own 
 case, the redundant members were easily removed, 
 leaving scarcely a trace of their presence ; but in the 
 case of Robert, the result was very different. The 
 supernumerary toes on the outside of the foot were 
 attached to, or formed part of, the metatarsal bones, 
 and were so badly amputated as to leave delicate 
 protuberances, calculated to be a torment for life. This 
 unfortunate circumstance, by producing a certain degree 
 of lameness and difficulty in walking, no doubt exerted 
 a permanent influence over my brother's habits and 
 feelings. Indisposed to indulge in the boisterous exercise 
 of other boys studious, docile in temperament, and 
 excelling in mental qualifications he shot ahead of me 
 in all matters of education. Though dissimilar in various 
 ways, we, however, associated together from our earliest 
 years. It almost seemed as if a difference of tastes and 
 aptitudes produced a degree of mutual reliance and 
 co-operation. With a more practical and exigent tone 
 of mind than Robert, I might possibly have made a 
 decent progress at school, had my teachers at all sym- 
 pathised with me. As it happened, I look back upon 
 my school experiences with anything but satisfaction. 
 A very few particulars will suffice. 
 
 My first school was one kept by a poor old widow, 
 Kirsty Cranston, who, according to her own account, 
 was qualified to carry forward her pupils as far as 
 reading the Bible ; but to this proficiency there was the 
 reasonable exception of leaving out difficult words, 
 such as Maher-shalal-hash-baz. These, she told the 
 children, might be made ' a pass-over,' and accordingly 
 
48 MEMOIR. 
 
 it was the rule of the establishment to let them alone. 
 From this humble seminary, I was in time transferred 
 to the burgh school, then under the charge of Mr James 
 Gray, author of a popular treatise on arithmetic. The 
 fee, here, was two shillings and twopence per quarter 
 for reading and writing, and sixpence additional for 
 arithmetic. The pupils were the children of nearly all 
 classes in the town and rural districts around. They 
 numbered about a hundred and fifty boys and girls. 
 Probably, a third of them in summer were barefooted, 
 but this was less a necessity than a choice ; at anyrate, 
 it well suited the locality. In front of the school-house 
 lay the town green, and beside it was the Tweed, in 
 which the school-boys were constantly paddling. 
 
 Gray was a man of mild temperament, and a good 
 teacher, but his pupils entertained little respect for his 
 abilities. Yielding, like too many others at the time, 
 to over-indulgence, he sometimes went off on a carouse, 
 and entered the school considerably inebriated, which 
 was deemed vastly amusing. Nor did this sort of con- 
 duct incur any public censure. The magistrates and 
 council, whose duty it was to call him to account, were 
 associates in his revels, and appreciated him as a boon- 
 companion. When elevated to a certain pitch, he sung 
 a good song about Nelson and his brave British tars ; 
 and this in itself, in the heat of the French war, 
 extenuated many shortcomings. At this school too, as 
 is usual with such seminaries in Scotland, the Bible was 
 read as a class-book, but with no kind of reverence, or 
 even decorum. The verses were bawled out at the 
 pitch of the voice, without the slightest regard to 
 intonation or elocutionary effect When the teacher 
 was temporarily absent, there took place a battle of the 
 
MR JAMES SLOAN. 49 
 
 books one side of the school against the other. On 
 such occasions, the girls, not choosing to be belligerents, 
 discreetly retired under the tables, leaving the boys to 
 carry on the war, in which dog-eared Bibles without 
 boards, resembling bunches of leaves, handily flew about 
 as missiles. To have to look back on this as a place of 
 youthful instruction ! 
 
 There was another stage in my educational career. 
 I was advanced to the grammar-school, as it is called, 
 a superior burgh establishment, of which Mr James 
 Sloan was head-master. Here, I was introduced to 
 Latin, for which the fee was five shillings a quarter. 
 My progress was very indifferent. Of course it was 
 very stupid of me not intuitively appreciating this 
 branch of learning, and likewise in feeling that its 
 acquisition was a cheerless drudgery. Like others 
 perhaps in like circumstances, I have lived to regret 
 my inattention, or call it, incapacity ; for even the 
 small knowledge of Latin which I did acquire during 
 two years of painful study, has not failed to be of 
 considerable service in various respects. 
 
 Mr Sloan was held in general esteem, and justly 
 reputed as an excellent teacher. He grounded well, and 
 apt scholars got on famously with him. My brother, 
 who, like myself, was advanced from the burgh to the 
 grammar school, became a proficient and favourite 
 pupil ; his mind, as it were, taking naturally to instruc- 
 tion in the classics. The healthy locality of the school 
 was much in its favour, and attracted boarders from 
 Edinburgh, the colonies, and elsewhere. The associa- 
 tion of town scholars with boys from a distance was 
 a pleasing feature in the establishment, and proved 
 mutually advantageous. I could have nothing to say 
 
 D 
 
50 MEMOIR. 
 
 derogatory of the method of culture, but for the severity 
 of discipline which was heedlessly pursued, according 
 to what, unfortunately, was too common at the period. 
 
 The truth is, violence held rule almost everywhere 
 the desperate warlike struggle in which the country was 
 engaged, apparently postponing all pacific and humane 
 notions. Boys the boy-nature being neither studied 
 nor understood were flogged and buffeted unmerci- 
 fully, both at home and at school; and they in turn 
 beat and domineered over each other according to their 
 capacity, harried birds' nests, pelted cats, and exercised 
 every other species of cruelty within their power. A 
 coarse bustling carter in Peebles, known by the face- 
 tious nickname of 'Puddle Michty,' used to leave 
 his old worn-out and much-abused horses to die on 
 the public green, and there, without incurring reproba- 
 tion, the boys amused themselves by, day after day, 
 battering the poor prostrate animals with showers 
 of stones till life was extinct. In the business of 
 elementary instruction, the law of kindness was as yet 
 scarcely thought of. Orders were sometimes given to 
 teachers not by any means to spare the rod. ' I've 
 brought you our Jock, mind ye lick him weel !' would a 
 mother of Spartan temperament say to Mr Gray, at the 
 same time dragging forward a struggling young savage 
 to be entered as a pupil ; and so Jock was formally 
 resigned to the dominion of the tawse. 
 
 I can never forget a scene which took place in Mr 
 Sloan's seminary one summer afternoon. In the 
 morning of that day, a sensation had been created by 
 the intelligence that two of the boarders, gentlemen's 
 sons from Edinburgh, had absconded, and that two 
 town-constables one of them Drummer Will had 
 
A FLAGELLATION. 51 
 
 been despatched in search of them. The youths were 
 caught, brought back in disgrace, and were now to 
 suffer a punishment adequate to the gravity of the 
 offence. Sullen and terrified, the two culprits stood 
 before the assembled school; the two town-officers in 
 their scarlet coats sitting as a guard within the door- 
 way. The usual hum ceased. There was a deathlike 
 stillness. First reproaching the offenders with their 
 highly improper conduct, the teacher ordered them 
 instantly to strip for flogging. The boys resisted, and 
 were seized by an assistant and the two officers. With 
 clothes in disorder, they were laid across a long desk- 
 like table, the rise of which in the middle offered that 
 degree of convexity which was favourable to the 
 application of the tawse. Kicking and screaming, they 
 suffered the humiliating infliction, and the school was 
 forthwith dismissed for the day. Such things at the 
 period were matters of course, even of approbation, and 
 therefore it would be wrong to condemn teachers who 
 fell in with the general fashion. Teaching, it was 
 imagined, could not be conducted otherwise school, 
 like army, flogging was an authorised national in- 
 stitution. 
 
 Laying aside any consideration of the elementary 
 branches and the classics, the amount of instruction at 
 these schools was exceedingly slender. At not one of 
 them was there taught any history, geography, or 
 physical science. There was not in my time a map in 
 any of the schools, in which respect the place had 
 fallen off; for at the sale of the effects of Mr Oman, a 
 previous teacher, my father bought a pair of old globes, 
 and it was chiefly from these that my brother and I 
 obtained a competent knowledge of the terrestrial and 
 
52 MEMOIR. 
 
 celestial spheres. Possibly, I have said more than 
 enough of my school remembrances ; and I finish with 
 stating that my entire education, which terminated when 
 I was thirteen years of age, cost, books included, some- 
 where about six pounds. So little was taught in the 
 way of general knowledge, that my education, properly 
 speaking, began only when I was left to pick it up as 
 opportunities offered in after-life. 
 
 There are a few circumstances of a pleasing nature 
 mixed up with these dismal recollections. I refer to 
 rural rambles and books. I spent many hours on the 
 picturesque banks of the Tweed, and in angling excur- 
 sions to Manor Water. Half-holiday visits to Neidpath 
 Castle, a deserted residence of the Dukes of Queensberry, 
 were a frequent amusement. The castle was appropri- 
 ated as a depot for the clothing and accoutrements of 
 the local militia, placed under charge of a worthy old 
 soldier, Sergeant Veitch ; and through my acquaintance 
 with one of his sons, I had the entree to the fortalice. 
 The sergeant was generally looked up to. In virtue of 
 his military knowledge, he was appointed drill-master 
 to the awkward squad, and for the same reason was 
 intrusted with the custody of the local militia arms. 
 Bred a weaver, he worked at a loom which was placed 
 in a deep window recess, in what was usually styled the 
 Duke's Drawing-room. At times, he condescended to 
 speak to me, and to mention incidents in his career, 
 while a sergeant in a foot regiment, at Bunker's Hill and 
 other places of note during the great American war all 
 which contributed to my small stock of knowledge. 
 
 Two annual fairs, with their concourse of travelling 
 merchants, shows, gingerbread, and wheel-of-fortune 
 men, made a pleasing break in the monotony of the 
 
BENI MINORI. 53 
 
 place. For many years, these fairs were frequented by 
 a personage known as ' Beni Minori,' who carried about 
 a singularly attractive raree show. The real name of 
 this humble showman was Robert Brown ; that of Beni 
 Minori having been assumed for professional reasons. 
 Brown was born in London in 1737, and reared under 
 the charge of his grand-parents near Carlisle, where he 
 remembered the passing of Prince Charles Stuart on his 
 way into and out of England, the subsequent surrender 
 of the Highland garrison to the Duke of Cumberland, 
 and the still later and more agitating sight of the bloody 
 heads over the gates of the city. The early years of 
 Brown's life were spent as a post-boy. He then went 
 to sea in 1759, was captured by the French, and 
 remained a prisoner till the end of the ' Seven Years' 
 War.' Next, he went to the West Indies, and had a 
 perfect recollection of the famous victory achieved by 
 Rodney, April 12, 1782. Returning to England, he 
 purchased the show-box of an old and dying Italian, 
 named Beni Minori, and assuming his name, he was, 
 from some resemblance to the deceased, universally 
 recognised as the same personage. Now began the 
 wanderings of Beni, otherwise Brown, through the north 
 of England and southern counties of Scotland, every- 
 where carrying his show-box on his back, and resorting 
 to all the fairs within his rounds. Our first interview 
 with Beni was in Peebles about 1805, and the last time 
 we saw him was in 1839, in the Edinburgh Charity 
 Workhouse, where this aged and industrious man had 
 at length found a sheltering roof under which to die. 
 Here were learned the leading particulars of Beni's 
 variegated life. He mentioned that his mother had 
 been dead a hundred and two years ; for, in giving him 
 
54 MEMOIR. 
 
 birth, she survived only a quarter of an hour. He had 
 long ceased to have a single relation in the world. 
 Twelve years ago, he had lost his wife, to whom he had 
 been united sixty-four years. There was no living 
 being to whom he could look with the eyes of affection. 
 The only thing he cared for was his show-box, which he 
 daily cleaned and arranged ; every picture, ring, and 
 cord being to him like the face of an old friend. 
 Though thus cast a living wreck on the shores of Time, 
 Beni always retained the liveliness which had procured 
 for him the attachment of the boys of Peebles. His 
 appearance was still that of a weather-beaten foreigner. 
 He wore ear-rings, chewed tobacco, and joked till the 
 last. With some little assuagement of his condition, 
 provided by the kindness of a few acquaintances, Beni 
 survived till June 1840, when he died at the age of 103 
 years. 
 
 Among the musical geniuses, vocal and instrumental, 
 who enlivened, or perhaps troubled the fairs, there was 
 a venerable violinist, John Jameson by name a kind 
 of type of l Wandering Willie.* Aged and blind, John 
 wandered through the county, playing at kirns, penny- 
 weddings, and fairs ; all his journeys being on foot, and 
 performed with the assistance of two faithful companions 
 his wife Jenny, and an old white horse, probably 
 worth ten shillings. The manner in which this humble 
 trio went about from place to place, generally getting 
 lodgings at farm-steadings for nothing, or at most for a 
 tune on the violin, was so remarkable as to deserve com- 
 memoration. First came the wife, limping, with one 
 hand pressed on that unfortunately rheumatic side, the 
 other leading the old horse by a halter. Second, the 
 horse, which never seemed very willing to get along, 
 
ROBERTS SCHOOL EXPERIENCES. 55 
 
 and needed to be pulled with all the vigour which 
 Jenny's spare hand could impart. Across its back, 
 pannier fashion, hung on one side John's weather-worn 
 fiddle-case, while on the other was a bag of apples, an 
 article in which the wife dealt in a small way. Last of 
 all, came John, led by the tail of the reluctant quad- 
 ruped ; so that the whole cavalcade moved in a piece 
 Jenny pulling at the horse, and the horse pulling at 
 John ; and in this way the party managed to make out 
 their journeys through Peeblesshire. 
 
 Though not disposed to be so sedentary as my 
 brother, I had scarcely a less ardent attachment to 
 books. These, however, I possessed no means of 
 purchasing. To procure the objects of my desire, I 
 executed with a knife various little toys, which I 
 exchanged for juvenile books with my better provided 
 companions. The room occupied by my brother and 
 myself was more like a workshop than a sleeping apart- 
 ment, on account of the disorder which was caused by 
 these mechanical operations. 
 
 Let us again return to Robert's account of these early 
 school-days. 
 
 1 My first two years of schooling were spent amidst 
 the crowd of children attending Mr Gray's seminary. On 
 the easy terms of two shillings and twopence per quarter 
 I was well grounded by the master and his helper 
 in English. The entire expense must have been only 
 about eighteen shillings a fact sufficient to explain how 
 Scotch people of the middle class appear to be so well 
 educated in comparison with their southern compatriots. 
 It was prior to the time when the intellectual system 
 was introduced. We were taught to read the Bible and 
 
S 6 MEMOIR. 
 
 Barrie's Collection, and to spell words. No attempt was 
 made to enlighten us as to the meaning of any of the 
 lessons. The most distressing part of our school exer- 
 cises consisted in learning by heart the Catechism of the 
 Westminster Assembly of Divines, a document which 
 it was impossible for any person under maturity to 
 understand, or to view in any other light than as a 
 torture. It was a strange, rough, noisy, crowded scene 
 this burgh school. No refinement of any kind appeared 
 in it. Nothing kept the boys in any sort of order but 
 flagellation with the tawse. Many people thought the 
 master did not punish enough. This idea, in fact, was 
 the cause of an act of wild justice, which I saw executed 
 one day in the school. 
 
 ' The reader must imagine the school-hum going on 
 in a dull monotone, when suddenly the door burst open, 
 and in walked a middle-aged woman of the humbler 
 class, carrying something in her right hand under her 
 apron. The school sunk into silence in an instant. 
 With flashing eyes and excited visage, she called out : 
 "Where is Jock Forsyth?" Jock had maltreated a son 
 of hers on the green, and she had come to inflict 
 vengeance upon him before the whole school. Jock's 
 conscious soul trembled at the sight, and she had 
 no difficulty in detecting him. Ere the master had 
 recovered from the astonishment which her intrusion 
 had created, the fell virago had pounced upon the 
 culprit, had dragged him into the middle of the floor, 
 and there began to belabour him with the domestic 
 tawse, which she had brought for the purpose. The 
 screams of the boy, the anxious entreaties of the master, 
 with his constant " Wifie, wifie, be quiet, be quiet," and 
 the agitated feeling which began to pervade the school, 
 
VALUE OF GRAMMAR SCHOOLS. 57 
 
 formed a scene which defies words to paint it. Nor did 
 Meg desist till she had given Master Forsyth reason to 
 remember her to the latest day of his existence. She 
 then took her departure, only remarking to Mr Gray, as 
 she prepared to close the door : " Jock Forsyth will no' 
 meddle with my Jamie again in a hurry." 
 
 ' Boys for whom a superior education was desired 
 were usually passed on at the beginning of their third 
 year to the grammar-school the school in which 
 the classics were taught, but which also had one or two 
 advanced classes for English and writing. This was an 
 example of an institution which has affected the fortunes 
 of Scotsmen not much less than the parish schools. 
 Every burgh has one, partly supported out of public 
 funds. For a small fee (in the Peebles grammar-school 
 it was only five shillings a quarter), a youth of the 
 middle classes gets a good grounding in Latin and 
 Greek, fitting him for the university ; and it is mainly, 
 I believe, through this superior education, so easily 
 attained, that so many of the youth of our northern 
 region are inspired with the ambition which leads them 
 upwards to professional life in their own country, or 
 else sends them abroad in quest of the fortune hard to 
 find at home. I observe, while writing these pages, the 
 advertisement of an academy in England, where, besides 
 sixty pounds by way of board, the fees for tuition 
 amount to twenty-five. For this twenty-five pounds, a 
 Scottish burgher of my young days could have five sons 
 carried through a complete classical course. The differ- 
 ence is overwhelmingly in favour of the Scotch grammar- 
 school, as far as the money matter is concerned. And 
 thus it will appear that the good education which has 
 enabled me to address so much literature, of whatever 
 
5 8 MEMOIR. 
 
 value, to the public during the last forty-five years, never 
 cost my parents so much as ten pounds. 
 
 ' There was a bookseller in Peebles : a great fact. 
 There had not always been one ; but some years before 
 my entrance upon existence, a decent man named 
 Alexander Elder had come to the town and established 
 himself as a dealer in intellectual wares. He was a 
 very careful and sober man, and in the end, as was 
 fitting, became rich in comparison with many of 
 his neighbours. It seems a curious reminiscence of my 
 first bookseller's shop, that, on entering it, one always 
 got a peep of a cow, which quietly chewed her cud 
 close behind the book-shelves, such being one of Sandy's 
 means of providing for his family. Sandy was great in 
 Shorter Catechisms, and what he called spells t and 
 school Bibles and Testaments, and in James Lumsden's 
 (of Glasgow) halfpenny coloured pictures of the " World 
 Turned Upside Down," the " Battle of Trafalgar," &c., 
 and in penny chap-books of an extraordinary coarseness 
 of language. He had stores, too, of school slates and 
 skeely, of paper for copies, and of pens, or rather quills, 
 for " made " pens were never sold then one of which 
 he would hand us across his counter with a civil glance 
 over the top of his spectacles, as if saying : " Now, 
 laddie, see and mak' a guid use o't." But Sandy was 
 enterprising and enlightened beyond the common range 
 of booksellers in small country towns, and had added a 
 circulating library to his ordinary business. My father, 
 led by his strong intellectual tastes, had early become a 
 supporter of this institution, and thus it came about 
 that by the time we were nine or ten years of age, my 
 brother and I had read a considerable number of the 
 classics of English literature, or heard our father read 
 
SANDY ELDER. 59 
 
 them; were familiar with the comicalities of Gulliver, 
 Don Quixote, and Peregrine Pickle; had dipped into 
 the poetry of Pope and Goldsmith, and indulged our 
 romantic tendencies in books of travel and adventure, 
 which were to us scarcely less attractive than the works 
 of pure imagination. When lately attending the Wells 
 of Homburg, I had but one English book to amuse 
 me, Pope's translation of the Iliad, and I felt it as 
 towards myself an affecting reminiscence, that exactly 
 fifty years had elapsed since I perused the copy from 
 Elder's library, in a little room looking out upon the 
 High Street of Peebles, where an English regiment 
 was parading recruits raised for Wellington's Peninsular 
 campaign. 
 
 * There was certainly something considerably superior 
 to the common book-trader in my friend Alexander 
 Elder, for his catalogue included several books striking 
 far above the common taste, and somewhat costly 
 withal. There was, for example, a copy of a strange 
 and curious book of which Sir Walter Scott speaks on 
 several occasions with great interest, a metrical history 
 of the clan Scott, written about the time of the Revolu- 
 tion by one Walter Scott, a retired old soldier of the 
 Scottish legions of Gustavus Adolphus, who describes 
 himself unnecessarily as " no scholar," for in its rhyme, 
 metre, and entire frame of language it is truly wretched, 
 while yet interesting on account of the quaintness of its 
 ideas and the information it conveys. Another of 
 Sandy's book treasures and the money value of them 
 makes the term appropriate was the ^Eneidos of Virgil, 
 translated into Scottish verse by Gavin Douglas, bishop 
 of Dunkeld, well known as a most interesting product 
 of the literary mind of Scotland at the beginning of the 
 
6o MEMOIR. 
 
 sixteenth century, and gratifying to our national vanity 
 as prior to any translations of Virgil into English. 
 
 * In a fit of extraordinary enterprise, Sandy had taken 
 into his library the successive volumes of the fourth 
 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, and had found 
 nobody but my father in the slightest degree interested 
 in them. My father made a stretch with his moderate 
 means, and took the book off Sandy's hands. It was a 
 cumbrous article in a small house ; so, after the first 
 interest in its contents had subsided, it had been put 
 into a chest (which it filled), and laid up in an attic 
 beside the cotton wefts and the meal ark. Roaming 
 about there one day, in that morning of intellectual 
 curiosity, I lighted upon the stored book, and from that 
 time for weeks all my spare time was spent beside the 
 chest. It was a new world to me. I felt a profound 
 thankfulness that such a convenient collection of human 
 knowledge existed, and that here it was spread out like 
 a well-plenished table before me. What the gift of a 
 whole toy-shop would have been to most children, this 
 book was to me. I plunged into it. I roamed through 
 it like a bee. I hardly could be patient enough to read 
 any one article, while so many others remained to be 
 looked into. In that on Astronomy, the constitution of 
 the material universe was all at once revealed to me. 
 Henceforth I knew what no other boy in the town 
 then dreamed of that there were infinite numbers of 
 worlds besides our own, which was by comparison a 
 very insignificant one. From the zoological articles, I 
 gathered that the animals, familiar and otherwise, were 
 all classified into a system through which some faint 
 traces of a plan were discernible. Geography, of which 
 not the slightest elements were then imparted at school, 
 
ELDER'S LIBRARY. 61 
 
 here came before me in numberless articles and maps, 
 expanding my narrow village world to one embracing 
 the uttermost ends of the earth. I pitied my com- 
 panions who remained ignorant of what became to me 
 familiar knowledge. Some articles were splendidly 
 attractive to the imagination for example, that entitled 
 Aerostation, which illustrated all that had been done in 
 the way of aerial travelling from Montgolfier down- 
 wards. Another paper interested me much that 
 descriptive of the inquiries of Dr Saussure regarding 
 the constitution and movement of glaciers. The 
 biographical articles, introducing to me the great men 
 who had laid up these stores of knowledge, or otherwise 
 affected the destinies of their species, were devoured in 
 rapid succession. What a year that was to me, not 
 merely in intellectual enjoyment, but in mental forma- 
 tion ! I believe it was my eleventh, for before I was 
 twelve, misfortune had taken the book from us to help 
 in satisfying creditors. It appears to me somewhat 
 strange that, in a place so remote, so primitive, and 
 containing so little wealth, at a time when the move- 
 ment for the spread of knowledge had not yet been 
 thought of, such an opportunity for the gratification 
 of an inquiring young mind should have been pre- 
 sented. It was all primarily owing to the liberal spirit 
 of enterprise which animated this cow-keeping country 
 bookseller. 
 
 'The themes first presented to the young mind cer- 
 tainly sink into it the deepest. The sciences of which 
 I obtained the first tracings through the Encyclopedia^ 
 have all through life been endeared to me above the 
 rest. The books of imagination which I first read from 
 Elder's library have ever borne a preference in my 
 
62 MEMOIR. 
 
 heart, whatever may be the judgment of modern taste 
 regarding them. It pains me to this day to hear severe 
 remarks made upon Fielding and Sterne. I should feel 
 myself to be a base ingrate if I could join in condemning 
 men who first gave me views of social life beyond my 
 natal village sphere, and who, by their powers of enter- 
 tainment, lent such a charm to years during which 
 material enjoyments were few. These intellectual "loves 
 of life's young day " sometimes lead literary men in the 
 choice of themes for their own pens. It was from such 
 a feeling regarding Smollett, that I was induced to make 
 an effort to set his life in a more respectful light before 
 the world than it had previously enjoyed, while, assuredly, 
 invited to other tasks in several respects more promising. 
 It strikes me that gratitude to an author also to a 
 teacher to any one who has benefited us intellectually 
 is as desirable a form of the feeling as any. I raise 
 statues in my heart to the fictionists above named, and 
 to many others who nowhere have statues of bronze or 
 marble, and I likewise deem it not unfitting that there 
 should be flower-crowned miniatures in my bosom of 
 James Sloan and Sandy Elder.' 
 
 I can unite in these commendations. With Elder's 
 field of literature laid open to us, Robert and I read at 
 a great rate, going right through the catalogue of books 
 without much regard to methodised study. In fact, we 
 had to take what we could get and be thankful. Per- 
 mitted to have only one volume at a time, we made up 
 for short allowance by reading as quickly as possible, 
 and, to save time, often read together from the same 
 book; one having the privilege of turning over the 
 leaves. Desultory as was this course of reading, it 
 
TAMMAS AND THE POOR PLAYER. 63 
 
 undoubtedly widened the sphere of our ideas; and it 
 would be ungrateful not to acknowledge that some of 
 my own success, and not a few of the higher pleasures 
 experienced in life, are due to that library in the little 
 old burgh. Robert's juvenile memoir affords one more 
 glimpse of these old times. 
 
 I The minister's chief elder in my early days was a cart 
 and mill wright, a substantial citizen, related by marriage 
 to our family, and with whose domestic life I was con- 
 sequently well acquainted. Language fails me in express- 
 ing my sense of the goodness and worth of this old 
 man, though, from the narrowness of his sphere of life, 
 he had never learned to temper his piety with any great 
 share of liberality. He afforded a perfect example of 
 the religious practice of a former age, and would have 
 been considered rather stern by the bulk of his contem- 
 poraries. Tammas, as he was familiarly called, had a 
 large family of sons and daughters, whom he governed 
 with relentless austerity. Any approach to gaiety of spirit 
 was deemed highly improper, and dancing was positively 
 sinful. This over-repressive policy as in the case of 
 Davie Deans had no beneficial effect. Prevented from 
 attending a respectably conducted dancing school, his 
 daughters stole out clandestinely in the evening to 
 dances of not a very reputable character a practice 
 which led to some far from fortunate marriages. 
 
 I 1 could forgive everything in Tammas but the stern- 
 ness. In the hands of men of his kind, Christianity 
 did not appear as a religion of love ; it seemed almost 
 wholly to consist in an imposition of irksome duties, 
 and an abstinence from all natural and allowable enjoy- 
 ments. A company of strolling players came to Peebles, 
 
64 MEMOIR. 
 
 and the manager went to Tammas, who was acting 
 chief-magistrate in the absence of the provost, to nego- 
 tiate for permission to use the town-hall as a theatre. 
 When the suppliant approached, Tammas was hewing at 
 a log out of doors, and stood with his axe suspended 
 over his head while listening to the request. 
 
 " I '11 oppose it with all the means in my poo'er, sir !" 
 exclaimed Tammas fiercely. 
 
 "Not with the hatchet, I hope, sir," responded the 
 son of Thespis. 
 
 * The poor man had to set up his scenes in the upper 
 room of a public-house, used as a mason lodge, and met 
 with fair encouragement. Thither my brother and I were 
 taken to see Inkle and Yarrico. It was our first play. 
 I can imagine Tammas contemplating his theatrical 
 visitor, in the spirit of a fanatic at Jedburgh, who, on a 
 similar occurrence there, composed the following verse : 
 
 " Oh, what a toon wad Jethart be 
 
 Wad they but read their Bibles, 
 \Vi' half o' the alacritee 
 
 That they do read their play-bills !" 
 
 Adding sorrowfully, however, in another verse, when 
 the players had departed : 
 
 " The theatre scene is taken doon, 
 
 Where Satan had his seat, 
 The clarty crew ha'e left the toon, 
 But Satan, he 's here yet ! " ' 
 
 In his picturesque reminiscence of Tammas, my 
 brother has failed to mention a somewhat curious fact. 
 The old worthy underwent a considerable softening 
 of character in the last few years of his life ; and the 
 conversion was all the more remarkable as being the 
 result of reading a novel, Thaddeus of Warsaw, which 
 
THE FRENCH PRISONERS. 65 
 
 an aged lady of kindly feeling persuaded him to peruse. 
 The noble and pathetic sentiments of Miss Porter, in 
 narrating the afflictions of her fictitious hero, touched 
 the heart of the old Puritan, and did what no power on 
 earth had been able to effect. What a pity that Tammas 
 did not go to see Inkle and Yarrico ! 
 
 Enough has been given of these reminiscences of 
 boyish days, and something may now be said of the 
 circumstances which, in a strangely unexpected manner, 
 sent my brother and myself adrift into the world that 
 lay beyond our hitherto limited horizon. 
 
 The calm tenor of my father's affairs was at length 
 abruptly ruffled. The introduction of the power-loom 
 and other mechanical appliances had already begun to 
 revolutionise the cotton trade. Down and down sank 
 hand-loom weaving, till it was threatened with extinc- 
 tion, and ultimately the trade was followed only as a 
 desperate necessity. Happy were those who gave it up 
 in time, and betook themselves to something else. 
 Moved by the declining aspect of his commission busi- 
 ness, my father bethought himself of commencing as 
 a draper. For this purpose, he alienated the small 
 property in which my brother and I were born, and 
 removed to a central part of the town. Here he began 
 his new line of business, for which, excepting his obliging 
 manners, he had no particular qualification. As, how- 
 ever, there was then little of that eager striving which is 
 now conspicuous everywhere, matters would have gone 
 on pretty well, but for one untoward circumstance. 
 
 As an out-of-the-way country town, Peebles had been 
 selected by government as a place suitable for the 
 residence of prisoners of war on parole, shortly after 
 the recommencement of hostilities in 1803. Not more, 
 
 E 
 
C6 MEMOIR. 
 
 however, than twenty or thirty of these exiles arrived 
 at this early period. They were mostly Dutch and 
 Walloons, with afterwards a few Danes unfortunate 
 mariners seized on the coast of the Netherlands, and 
 sent to spend their lives in an inland Scottish town. 
 These men did not repine. They nearly all betook 
 themselves to learn some handicraft, to eke out their 
 scanty allowance. At leisure hours, they might be seen 
 fishing in long leather boots, as if glad to procure a few 
 trouts and eels, and at the same time satisfy the desire 
 to dabble in the water. In 1810, a large accession was 
 made to this body of prisoners of war, by the arrival of 
 upwards of a hundred officers of an entirely different 
 quality. They consisted of French, Poles, and Italians, 
 in a variety of strange tarnished uniforms, fresh from the 
 seat of war in the Peninsula. These unfortunate gentle- 
 men, a few of them very young, were accommodated with 
 lodgings in the town, and being scarcely under any sort 
 of restriction, they gradually became domesticated in 
 several families. For their own amusement, as well as 
 to repay acts of hospitality perhaps, also, to make 
 friends among the trades-people they set up a private 
 theatre in an old ball-room, in which they enlivened the 
 town by performing gratuitously some of the plays of 
 Corneille and Moliere. To these performances I was 
 freely admitted, on my father's account ; and so reaped 
 the double advantage of having my ear accustomed to 
 the French language, and of being made acquainted 
 with some of the French dramatists. Nor did I dislike 
 the French on other accounts. The kitchen of their 
 mess offered a market for my rabbits, which I bred as 
 an article of commerce to aid in purchasing books. 
 My mother, even while lending her dresses and caps to 
 
THE FAMILY CALAMITY. 67 
 
 enable performers to represent female characters, never 
 liked the intimacy which had been formed between the 
 French officers and my father. Against his giving them 
 credit, she constantly remonstrated in vain. It was a 
 tempting but perilous trade. For a time they paid 
 wonderfully well. A number of them, when captured 
 in Spain, had secreted sums of money about their 
 persons, and gold ducats and sequins, as I remember, 
 were for a period as common as guineas in Peebles; 
 though that, perhaps, is not saying very much. These 
 exiles likewise occasionally received remittances from 
 France ; for although the war was going on very hotly, 
 there was still, as a matter -of public convenience, some 
 kind of postal intercourse maintained with the French 
 coast. With such allurements, my father confidingly gave 
 extensive credit to these strangers men who, by their 
 position, were not amenable to the civil law, and whose 
 obligations, accordingly, were altogether debts of honour. 
 The consequence was what might have been anticipated. 
 An order suddenly arrived from the government, com- 
 manding the whole of the prisoners to quit Peebles, and 
 march chiefly to Sanquhar in Dumfriesshire ; the cause 
 of the movement being the prospective arrival of a 
 militia regiment. The intelligence came one Sunday 
 afternoon. What a gloom prevailed at several firesides 
 that fatal evening ! 
 
 On their departure, the French prisoners made many 
 fervid promises that, should they ever return to their 
 own country, they would have pleasure in discharging 
 their debts. They all got home at the peace in 1814, 
 but not one of them ever paid a farthing. A list of 
 their names, debts, and official position in the army of 
 Napoleon, remains as a curiosity in my possession. 
 
68 MEMOIR. 
 
 It is not unlikely that a number of these returned 
 exiles found a grave on the field of Waterloo. 
 Whatever became of them, there was soon a crisis 
 in my father's affairs. The pressure might have been 
 got over, for with patience there were means to 
 satisfy all demands ; but the possibility of rectifying 
 affairs was defeated by weakly taking the advice of an 
 interested party, a relative of my mother, who recom- 
 mended a sequestration. The result was that the sage 
 adviser, as trustee, managed everything so adroitly for 
 his own benefit, that the creditors received but a small 
 dividend, and the family lost almost everything. It is 
 hateful to refer to this piece of folly and villainy, because 
 it reminds me of poignant distresses ; but it is necessary 
 to give it some degree of prominence, for it forms the 
 pivot on which the present narrative turns. 
 
 By various shifts, the family continued to struggle on 
 for a year or two in Peebles after this catastrophe. The 
 penury which was endured was less painful than the 
 acute sense of social degradation. My mother looked 
 for some sympathy and assistance from her brother, and 
 also from other relatives at a distance, but without avail. 
 Feeling, with a too keen susceptibility, that he had lost 
 caste, my father never quite held up his head after this 
 event; yet, deplored at'the time, it really proved a for- 
 tunate circumstance. Like a wholesome though un- 
 pleasant storm in a stagnating atmosphere, it cleared 
 the way for a new and better order of things. A 
 seemingly great misfortune ultimately proved to be no 
 misfortune at all ; it was, in fact, a blessing, for which 
 my brother and I, as well as other members of the 
 family, could not be sufficiently thankful. 
 
 The wise resolution was adopted of quitting Peebles. 
 
REMOVAL TO EDINBURGH. 69 
 
 My mother, animated by keen anxiety and foresight, 
 was particularly solicitous to remove, with a view to 
 procure means of advancement for her sons. Accord- 
 ingly, impelled alike by necessity and inclination, the 
 family removed to Edinburgh ; Robert being alone left 
 to pursue his education for a short time longer. Crowded 
 into the Fly, then the only engine of public conveyance 
 to the Scottish capital, we crossed the Kingside-Edge, 
 as a high ridge of land is called, on a bleak day in 
 December 1813 my mother with an infant daughter on 
 her knee, and a heart full of mingled hopes and fears of 
 the future. It was a five hours' journey, of which one 
 entire hour was spent at Venturefair to rest the horses. 
 Here the party were hospitably entertained with warm 
 kail by Jenny Wilson, who kept the small inn along 
 with her brother William. So reinvigorated, we drove 
 on in somewhat better spirits, entering Edinburgh by 
 the Causewayside my mother with but a few shillings 
 in her pocket ; there was not a halfpenny in mine. 
 
72 MEMOIR. 
 
 irregular channel much varied intelligence from Peebles- 
 shire was interchang'ed between the two families. Here 
 we lived till Whitsunday 1814, when we removed to a 
 floor of a like quality in Hamilton's Entry, Bristo Street 
 the back windows of the house overlooking the small 
 court in which is situated a little old building, with a 
 tiled roof, that had been Walter Scott's first school in 
 Edinburgh. 
 
 If anything, the families hereabout were more hard- 
 up, and, to be plain, we were more hard-up too. Our 
 dwelling was on the second floor of the stair, and on 
 the flat immediately beneath resided Ebenezer Picken, 
 a scholarly gentleman in reduced circumstances, who, 
 after trying various shifts to secure a living for himself 
 and family, now professed to teach languages, and 
 endeavoured to sell by subscription one or two volumes 
 of poems, which, I fear, did not do much for him. He 
 died in 1816. His son, Andrew, who was also a poetic 
 genius, and about my own age, became affected with 
 the mania concerning Poyais, and emigrated with a 
 number of others to that pestilential marsh, where most 
 of the settlers died shortly after landing Andrew kindly 
 acting as chaplain, with a shirt for surplice, and reading 
 the funeral service. From a fellow-feeling in circum- 
 stances, we formed an intimacy with our neighbours 
 the Pickens, while residing in the same tenement ; and 
 the friendship was extended over a series of years, until 
 the remaining members of the family went to America, 
 
 As regards ways and means. On coming to Edin- 
 burgh, my father had resumed his commission business 
 from Glasgow cotton-manufacturers, but this trade had 
 long been declining, and was but a meagre dependence. 
 To aggravate his difficulties, he was not qualified by 
 
THE DARK AGES. 73 
 
 knowledge of the world to deal with the class of work- 
 men to whom he furnished employment. Some of them 
 were decent enough old sinewy men, sufficiently trust- 
 worthy; but others, accustomed to go on the tramp, 
 used artifices that baffled his ingenuity. Carrying on 
 their handicraft in obscure recesses in Fountainbridge, 
 St Ann's Yards, the Back of the Canongate, or Abbey 
 Hill, it was sometimes as difficult to trace them out as 
 to get any right clue to their manoeuvres. It was by no 
 means unusual to find that the materials intrusted to 
 them were dishonestly pawned, and that sums of money 
 advanced for half-done work on piteous appeals of 
 distress were irrecoverable. In short, my father was 
 much too soft for this kind of business ; and the result 
 was what might have been expected. With resources 
 on the verge of exhaustion, there ensued privations 
 against which it required no small degree of composure 
 to bear up. The old German flute, preserved as a 
 precious relic throughout the recent disasters of the 
 family, was sometimes resorted to as a solace, although 
 the favourite airs, such as Corn Rigs, did not sound half 
 so sweetly, it was thought, in the dingy atmosphere of 
 Hamilton's Entry, as they had done along the Eddleston 
 Water. 
 
 The Dark Ages, as we have since jestingly called 
 them, had begun, and for a number of successive years 
 an acquaintance was contracted with families and indi- 
 viduals, who, if not experiencing a similar depression, 
 occupied an unpretending position in society. I can 
 recollect some of them, and also the shifty schemes to 
 which they were less or more impelled, by the necessities 
 of their situation. Widows of decayed tradesmen, who 
 were moving heaven and earth to get their sons into 
 
74 MEMOIR. 
 
 hospitals, and their daughters taught to be governesses. 
 Teachers in the decline of life, like poor Picken, 
 endeavouring to draw a subsistence from the fees of 
 most-difficult-to-be-procured pupils. Licensed preachers 
 to whom fate had not assigned a kirk, and who, after 
 years of pining, now made a livelihood by preparing 
 young men for university degrees. Genteel unmarried 
 women, left destitute by improvident fathers, who con- 
 trived to maintain themselves by colouring maps, or by 
 sewing fine needle-work for the Repository a benevo- 
 lent and useful institution, to which be all praise. Why 
 continue the catalogue ? 
 
 There was some use in knowing, and being known 
 to, these kinds of people. I speak not of the value to 
 myself, as having an opportunity of studying some of 
 the humbler and more characteristic phases of society. 
 To my father and mother, these persons, with their 
 varied experience, could furnish hints as to how petty 
 difficulties incidental to their condition might be over- 
 come. One or two things they seem to have made 
 their special study. They knew the proper methods of 
 applying for situations in public offices, and what 
 expedients could be attempted to elude the payment 
 of rates and taxes. For the most part, they entertained 
 a high respect for, and duly stood in awe of, magistrates, 
 ministers, and great men generally; for it was only 
 through such distinguished authorities that certificates 
 of character and help in various ways could be obtained 
 in cases of emergency. Far be it from me to impute 
 dishonesty to these ingeniously struggling and scheming 
 classes. On the whole, in the darkest of their days, so 
 far as I knew, they .maintained a wonderful deter- 
 mination to keep square with the world. It must be 
 
THE DARK AGES. 75 
 
 admitted, however, that the classes to which I allude 
 too frequently entertained loose notions concerning 
 taxes. Demands of this nature seemed to be little 
 better than asking money for nothing. Rates and 
 taxes might be right in the abstract; that they did not 
 question. But the collector who came periodically to 
 your door with a portentous pocket-book, and made 
 point-blank demands for sums of money such as fifteen 
 shillings and ninepence halfpenny, or one pound eleven 
 and threepence which it was exceedingly inconvenient 
 to pay, was clearly a nuisance; and with no stretch of 
 conscience, he might be coaxed, wheedled, put off, and 
 told to call again as long as it was safe to do so. 
 
 In the midst of the straits to which these remarks 
 refer, my father, through congeniality of taste, made 
 the acquaintance of several persons possessed of 
 musical and poetical acquirements. One of these was 
 Mr John Hamilton, author of the song, Up in the 
 Morning Early, who, drawing to the conclusion of his 
 days, lived in a stair at the south end of Lothian Street, 
 and in good weather might be seen creeping feebly 
 along the walks in the Meadows, deriving pleasure 
 from the sunshine, to which he was soon to bid adieu. 
 Another was Mr William Clarke, noted for his musical 
 genius, who acted as organist of the Episcopal Chapel 
 in the Cowgate, the services of which place of public 
 worship were at that time conducted by the Rev. 
 Archibald Alison, author of the Essay on Taste, and 
 Sermons on the Seasons, and whose son was the late 
 Sir Archibald Alison, author of the History of Europe. 
 As music was my father's overwhelming passion, his 
 introduction to the church-organ under the auspices of 
 Clarke was a matter of extreme exultation. Entranced 
 
76 MEMOIR. 
 
 with the performances of the organ and choir, he 
 became a frequent attender on the ministrations of 
 Mr Alison, whose persuasive piety, refined sentiments, 
 and elegant diction, possessed, as is well known, an 
 indescribable charm. 
 
 Charged more especially with family cares, my 
 mother had other considerations than church-music. 
 What was to be done with me, was a primary concern. 
 I was in my fourteenth year. Further schooling was 
 out of the question. Robert might go on with his 
 education as long as seemed expedient, but it was time 
 I should get to work. What would I be ? My tastes 
 lay in the direction of books ; any department would 
 do. A friend put on the scent, reported that on 
 inquiry at a leading member of the profession, book- 
 selling was a poor business ; at best, it was very 
 precarious, and could not be recommended. Not 
 discouraged, I still thought my vocation lay towards 
 literature in some shape or other. 
 
 Since our arrival in town, I had read all that could 
 be read for nothing at the booksellers' windows, and 
 at the stalls which were stuck about the College and 
 High School Wynds. I had also become a great 
 frequenter of the evening book-auctions. The prin- 
 cipal were Carfrae's in Drummond Street, and that 
 of Peter Cairns in the Agency Office, opposite the 
 University. At present, book-auctions are only during 
 the day; then, they took place in the evening, and 
 were a favourite resort. The sales were indicated by 
 a lantern, with panes of white calico, at the door, on 
 which was inscribed 'Auction of Books.' My attend- 
 ance, punctual on the hanging out of the lantern, was 
 a new and cFelightful recreation. The facetiae of the 
 
PETER CAIRNS. 77 
 
 auctioneers, their observations on books and authors, 
 and the competitions in the biddings, were all inter- 
 esting to a lad fresh from the country. Carfrae's was 
 the more genteel and dignified, Cairns' was the more 
 amusing of these lounges, wherefore it suited best for 
 those who went for fun, and not for buying, on which 
 account it chiefly secured my patronage. 
 
 Peter was a dry humorist, somewhat saturnine from 
 business misadventures. Professedly, he was a book- 
 seller in South College Street, and exhibited over his 
 door a huge sham copy of Virgil by way of sign. His 
 chief trade, however, was the auctioning of books and 
 stationery at the Agency Office ; a place with a strong 
 smell of new furniture, amidst which it was necessary 
 to pass before arriving at the saloon in the rear where 
 the auctions were habitually held. Warm, well lighted, 
 and comfortably fitted up with seats within a railed 
 enclosure environing the books to be disposed of, this 
 place of evening resort was as good as a reading-room. 
 It was, indeed, rather better, for there was a constant 
 fund of amusement in Peter's caustic jocularities as 
 when he begged to remind his audience that this was a 
 place for selling, not for reading books sarcasms which 
 always provoked a round of ironical applause. His 
 favourite author was Goldsmith, an edition of whose 
 works he had published, which pretty frequently figured 
 in his catalogue. On coming to these works, he always 
 referred to them with profound respect as, for 
 example : ' The next in the catalogue, gentlemen, is 
 the works of Oliver Gooldsmith, the greatest writer that 
 ever lived, except Shakspeare ; what do you say for 
 it? I'll put it up at ten shillings.' Some one would 
 perhaps audaciously bid twopence, which threw him 
 
76 MEMOIR. 
 
 with the performances of the organ and choir, he 
 became a frequent attender on the ministrations of 
 Mr Alison, whose persuasive piety, refined sentiments, 
 and elegant diction, possessed, as is well known, an 
 indescribable charm. 
 
 Charged more especially with family cares, my 
 mother had other considerations than church-music. 
 What was to be done with me, was a primary concern. 
 I was in my fourteenth year. Further schooling was 
 out of the question. Robert might go on with his 
 education as long as seemed expedient, but it was time 
 I should get to work. What would I be ? My tastes 
 lay in the direction of books ; any department would 
 do. A friend put on the scent, reported that on 
 inquiry at a leading member of the profession, book- 
 selling was a poor business ; at best, it was very 
 precarious, and could not be recommended. Not 
 discouraged, I still thought my vocation lay towards 
 literature in some shape or other. 
 
 Since our arrival in town, I had read all that could 
 be read for nothing at the booksellers' windows, and 
 at the stalls which were stuck about the College and 
 High School Wynds. I had also become a great 
 frequenter of the evening book-auctions. The prin- 
 cipal were Carfrae's in Drummond Street, and that 
 of Peter Cairns in the Agency Office, opposite the 
 University. At present, book-auctions are only during 
 the day; then, they took place in the evening, and 
 were a favourite resort. The sales were indicated by 
 a lantern, with panes of white calico, at the door, on 
 which was inscribed 'Auction of Books.' My attend- 
 ance, punctual on the hanging out of the lantern, was 
 a new and delightful recreation. The facetiae of the 
 
PETER CAIRNS. 77 
 
 auctioneers, their observations on books and authors, 
 and the competitions in the biddings, were all inter- 
 esting to a lad fresh from the country. Carfrae's was 
 the more genteel and dignified, Cairns' was the more 
 amusing of these lounges, wherefore it suited best for 
 those who went for fun, and not for buying, on which 
 account it chiefly secured my patronage. 
 
 Peter was a dry humorist, somewhat saturnine from 
 business misadventures. Professedly, he was a book- 
 seller in South College Street, and exhibited over his 
 door a huge sham copy of Virgil by way of sign. His 
 chief trade, however, was the auctioning of books and 
 stationery at the Agency Office ; a place with a strong 
 smell of new furniture, amidst which it was necessary 
 to pass before arriving at the saloon in the rear where 
 the auctions were habitually held. Warm, well lighted, 
 and comfortably fitted up with seats within a railed 
 enclosure environing the books to be disposed of, this 
 place of evening resort was as good as a reading-room. 
 It was, indeed, rather better, for there was a constant 
 fund of amusement in Peter's caustic jocularities as 
 when he begged to remind his audience that this was a 
 place for selling, not for reading books sarcasms which 
 always provoked a round of ironical applause. His 
 favourite author was Goldsmith, an edition of whose 
 works he had published, which pretty frequently figured 
 in his catalogue. On coming to these works, he always 
 referred to them with profound respect as, for 
 example : ' The next in the catalogue, gentlemen, is 
 the works of Oliver Gooldsmith, the greatest writer that 
 ever lived, except Shakspeare ; what do you say for 
 it? I'll put it up at ten shillings.' Some one would 
 perhaps audaciously bid twopence, which threw him 
 
73 MEMOIR. 
 
 into a rage, and he would indignantly call out : 
 'Tippence, man; keep that for the brodej meaning 
 the plate at the church-door. If the same person 
 dared to repeat the insult with regard to some other 
 work, Peter would say : ' Dear me, has that poor man 
 not yet got quit of his tippence?' which turned the 
 laugh, and effectually silenced him all the rest of the 
 evening. Peter's temper was apt to get ruffled when 
 biddings temporarily ceased. He then declared that he 
 might as well try to auction books in the poor-house. 
 On such occasions, driven to desperation, he would try 
 the audience with a bunch of quills, a dozen black-lead 
 pencils, or a ' quare ' of Bath-post, vengefully knocking 
 which down at the price bidden for them, he would 
 shout to 'Wully,' the clerk, to look after the money. 
 Never minding Peter's querulous observations further 
 than to join in the general laugh, I, like a number of 
 other penniless youths, got some good snatches of 
 reading at the auctions in the Agency Office. I there 
 saw and handled books which I had never before 
 heard of, and in this manner obtained a kind of notion 
 of bibliography. My brother, who, like myself, became 
 a frequenter of the Agency Office, relished Peter highly, 
 and has touched him off in one of his essays. 
 
 Inquiries for the situation of apprentice in a book- 
 seller's shop not proving successful, and time wearing 
 on, I relinquished my preconceived fancies, and stated 
 that I should be glad to be put to any line of business 
 whatever. No sooner had this been concluded on than 
 an opening seemed to cast up in a grocer's shop 
 situated in the Tolbooth Wynd, Leith. Unfortunately, 
 Leith was two miles distant, but it was announced that 
 the grocer munificently imparted board and lodging to 
 
A SOY WANTED. 79 
 
 his apprentices, and that, in present circumstances, was 
 of some importance. It was resolved I should look 
 after the place. Accordingly, I one day went off to 
 Leith, trudging down from Edinburgh towards the 
 Tolbooth Wynd, not greatly elated with the prospect 
 before me, but determined not to be nice in accepting 
 terms. A friend of the family, resident in Leith, was 
 to introduce me. 
 
 On reaching the spot with him, nearly opposite the 
 public fountain, I paused a moment outside to recon- 
 noitre the grocer's premises, before proceeding. The 
 windows exhibited quantities of raw sugar in different 
 varieties of brownness, hovering over which were swarms 
 of flies, in a state of frantic enjoyment. Sticks of black 
 liquorice leaned coaxingly on the second row of panes, 
 flanked by tall glass jars of sweeties and peppermint 
 drops - } behind these outward attractions, there were 
 observable yellow-painted barrels of whisky, rows of 
 bottles of porter, piles of cheeses of varied complexions, 
 firkins of salt butter, and boxes of soap. At the counter 
 were a number of women and children buying articles, 
 such as quarter-ounces of tea and ounces of sugar ; and 
 the floor was battered with dirt and debris. 
 
 I was not much pleased with the look of the place, 
 but I had no choice. Entering, somewhat timidly, 
 with my conductor, I was described as the boy who had 
 been recommended as an apprentice, and was ushered 
 into the back-room to be examined as to my capabilities. 
 It was immediately seen that I was physically incom- 
 petent to fill the situation. The chief qualification in 
 demand was muscular vigour. The boy wanted would 
 have to draw a truck loaded with several hundredweights 
 of goods, to be delivered to customers, it might be miles 
 
8o MEMOIR. 
 
 distant. Instead of an apprentice, it was in reality a 
 horse that might have been advertised for, or at the least 
 an able-bodied porter. I was at once pronounced to 
 be unfit for this enviable post a much too delicately 
 made youth a day's work with the barrow or the bottle- 
 basket would finish me I had better abandon the idea 
 of being a grocer. With these remarks pronounced for 
 doom, I retired, not a little downcast at the unfortunate 
 issue of the expedition, and sorrowfully returned up the 
 Walk to Edinburgh. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MY APPRENTICESHIP 1814 TO 1819. 
 
 T T OW little are we able to penetrate the future ! The 
 * * journey to Leith was not thrown away. In 
 returning homewards, I had occasion to pass the shop 
 of Mr John Sutherland, bookseller, Calton Street, an 
 establishment opposite the Black Bull Hotel, the starting- 
 place of the mail-coaches for London. In the window 
 was the announcement, ' An Apprentice Wanted/ Here 
 was the right thing at last. I did not lose time in com- 
 municating this piece of intelligence. 
 
 Having in the first place narrated the failure of the 
 Leith affair, I proceeded to describe the discovery I 
 had made in Calton Street. There was forthwith a 
 family cogitation on the subject, and it was resolved 
 that next day I should accompany my mother on a tour 
 of investigation into the nature of the place. Next 
 morning, accordingly, after being brushed up for the 
 occasion, I set out for Sutherland's. Our reception was 
 gratifyingly polite. The bookseller expressed himself 
 satisfied with my appearance and the extent of my 
 education. He said that in all respects I should be 
 perfectly qualified for the situation. My principal duties 
 
82 MEMOIR. 
 
 for two or three years would be very easy. I should only 
 have to light the fire, take off and put on the shutters, 
 clean and prepare the oil-lamps, sweep and dust the 
 shop, and go all the errands. When I had nothing else 
 to do, I was to stand behind the counter, and help in 
 any way that was wanted ; and talking of that, it would 
 be quite contrary to rule for me ever to sit down, or to 
 put off time reading. 
 
 In laying down the law, Sutherland admitted that at 
 first the duties, though no way burdensome, might not 
 perhaps be very pleasant, but the routine was sanctioned 
 by immemorial usage. Constable and all the other 
 great booksellers had begun in this way. Every one 
 who aspired to take a front rank in the profession, must 
 begin by being a junior apprentice. The period of 
 service was five years at four shillings a week ; not high 
 pay, to be sure, but it was according to universal rule, 
 from which he could see no departure. 
 
 My mother, who conducted the negotiation, found 
 no fault with the proposed duties and terms ; still she 
 had her misgivings, and ventured to remark that her 
 son was surely wrong in wishing to follow the business. 
 ' We may manage,' she said, ' to get him through his 
 apprenticeship, but I have serious fears of what is to 
 follow. We cannot set him up in business, and how ' 
 (looking around) ' can he ever be able to get a stock 
 of books like that?' 
 
 The bookseller endeavoured to allay her apprehen- 
 sions, and his remarks are worth repeating : ' There is 
 no fear of any one getting forward in the world, if he 
 be only steady, obliging, attentive to his duties, and 
 exercise a reasonable degree of patience. I can assure 
 you, when I was the age of your son, I had as poor 
 
MY A PPRENTICESHIP 1814x01819. 83 
 
 prospects as any one ; yet, I have so far got on toler- 
 ably well. In the outset of life, it is needless to look 
 too far in advance. We must just do the best we can 
 in the meantime, and hope that all will turn out rightly 
 in the end.' These sensible observations left nothing 
 further to be said. The bargain was struck. I was to 
 come next Monday morning to be initiated by an elder 
 apprentice. And so, on the 8th of May 1814, I was 
 launched into the business world. 
 
 About a year and a half after this event, the family 
 quitted Edinburgh. My father was appointed com- 
 mercial manager of a salt manufactory, called Joppa 
 Pans, a smoky odorous place, consisting of a group of 
 sooty buildings, situated on the sea-shore half-way 
 between Portobello and Musselburgh; and thither, to 
 a small dwelling amidst the steaming salt-pans, they all 
 removed except myself. Robert, who had now come 
 from Peebles, and been some time at an academy 
 in Edinburgh, accompanied them; the arrangement 
 being that he should walk to and from town daily. 
 I was left to pursue my business, being for this pur- 
 pose consigned to a lodging that may merit some 
 notice. 
 
 Until this disruption, I had no occasion to rely on 
 myself. Now matters were changed. I was to have 
 an opportunity of learning practically how far my weekly 
 earnings would go in defraying the cost of board and 
 lodging. In short, at little above fifteen years of age, 
 I was thrown on my own resources. From necessity, 
 not less than from choice, I resolved at all hazards to 
 make the weekly four shillings serve for everything. I 
 cannot remember entertaining the slightest despondency 
 on the subject. As with other lads of my age, I had 
 
84 MEMOIR. 
 
 something to interest me in the circumstances attending 
 the close of the war, and the excitement which followed 
 on various matters of public concern. 
 
 As favourable for carrying out my aims at an inde- 
 pendent style of living, I had the good-fortune to be 
 installed in the dwelling of a remarkably precise and 
 honest widow, a Peebles woman, who, with two grown- 
 up sons, occupied the top story of a building in the 
 West Port My landlady had the reputation of being 
 excessively parsimonious, but as her honesty was of 
 importance to one in my position, and as she consented 
 to let me have a bed, cook for me, and allow me to sit 
 by her fireside the fire, by the way, not being much 
 to speak of for the reasonable charge of eighteen- 
 pence a week, I was thought to be lucky in finding her 
 disposed to receive me within her establishment. To 
 her dwelling, therefore, I repaired with my all, consisting 
 of a few articles of clothing and two or three books, 
 including a pocket Bible the whole contained in a 
 small blue-painted box, which I carried on my shoulder 
 along the Grassmarket. 
 
 This abode, the uppermost floor in Boak's Land, was 
 more elevated than airy. The back of the tall edifice 
 overhung a tannery and a wild confusion of mean 
 enclosures, with an outlook beyond to the castle, perched 
 on its dark precipitous rock. The thoroughfare in 
 front was then, as it is still, one of the most crowded 
 and wretched in the city. The apartment assigned to 
 me was a bed-closet, with a narrow window fronting 
 the street. Yet this den was not all my own. For 
 a time, it was shared with a student of divinity, a 
 youth of my own age from the hills of Tweeddale ; and 
 afterwards with my brother Robert, when it was found 
 
TAMMIE TOD. 85 
 
 inexpedient for him to live in the country, and go to 
 and from town daily. 
 
 Being all of us from Peeblesshire, there was much 
 to speak of in common, though with no great cordiality 
 of intercourse. In the evenings, when mason and car- 
 penter lads dropped in, the conversation turned chiefly 
 on sermons. Each visitor brought with him experiences 
 as to how texts had been handled on the preceding 
 Sunday; on which there ensued discussions singularly 
 characteristic of a well-known phase in the Scotch mind. 
 
 * Weel, Tammie,' inquired the widow one evening at 
 Tammie Tod, a journeyman mason lately arrived from 
 the country, * what was the doctor on last Sabbath after- 
 noon?' 
 
 ' He was on the Song ' meaning the Song of Solomon. 
 
 1 Eh, the Song ! that would be grand. He 's a 
 wonderfu' man the doctor: and what was his text?' 
 
 ' It was a real fine text,' said Tammie, ' the deepest 
 ever I heard " For my head is filled with dew, and my 
 locks with the drops of the night ;" fifth chapter, second 
 verse, the second clause of the verse.' 
 
 * I ken that text weel,' responded the widow. ' I 
 heard a capital discourse on it thirty years syne ; but 
 how did the doctor lay it out ? ' 
 
 1 He divided it into five heads, ending with an appli- 
 cation, which it would be weel for us a' to tak' to heart.' 
 
 And so Tammie, who had a proficiency in dissect- 
 ing and criticising sermons, proceeded to describe with 
 logical precision the manner in which his minister had 
 handled the very intricate subject ; his definitions being 
 listened to and commented on with extraordinary relish. 
 
 Let no one hastily conclude that there was anything 
 to ridicule in these searching, though perhaps too 
 
86 MEMOIR. 
 
 speculative and familiar disquisitions; for apart from 
 any religious consideration, they bore evidence of that 
 spirit of inquiry and love of reasoning on momentous 
 topics which may be said to have made Scotland what 
 it is. I may not have been the better, but was by no 
 means the worse, for hearing Tammie Tod's sermon 
 experiences in that little upper floor in the West Port, 
 and have often compared what there came under my 
 observation with the unideaed sotting and want of all 
 mental culture which unhappily mark certain depart- 
 ments of the population in different parts of the United 
 Kingdom. 
 
 On market-days, my landlady was usually visited 
 about dinner-time by some horny-fisted old acquaint- 
 ance from about Leithen or Gala Water, with a 
 shepherd's plaid around his shoulders; and who, after 
 being treated to a share of the bannocks and kail, 
 would finish off with a blast on the widow's tobacco- 
 pipe ; for, with all her saving habits, our worthy hostess 
 indulged moderately, I must say in this luxury. The 
 conversation of these worthies ran still on controversial 
 divinity. They talked of the Hind Let Loose, Boston's 
 Marrow, the Crook in the Lot, and the Fourfold State 
 standard topics among the class to which they 
 belonged; and if I did not quite apprehend or was 
 not improved by the discussions, they at least afforded 
 an amusing study of character. 
 
 The charge made for my accommodation in these 
 quarters left some scope for financiering as regards the 
 remaining part of my wages. It was a keen struggle, 
 but, like Franklin, whose autobiography I had read 
 with avidity, I faced it with all proper resolution. My 
 contrivances to make both ends meet were in some 
 
THE WEST PORT. 87 
 
 degree amusing. As a final achievement in the art 
 of cheap living, I was able to make an outlay of a 
 shilling and ninepence suffice for the week. Below that 
 I could not well go. Reaching this point, I had nine- 
 pence over for miscellaneous demands, chiefly in the 
 department of shoes, which constituted an awkwardly 
 heavy item. On no occasion did I look to parents for 
 the slightest pecuniary subsidy. 
 
 Was there none, all this time, to lend a helping-hand 
 to the struggling bookseller's apprentice? I did not 
 put any one to the test. My mother had some 
 relations in town moving in respectable circles ; but 
 they were connected with the worthless personage 
 whose conduct had insured my father's ruin; and, 
 passing over any unpleasant recollections on this score, 
 I felt disinclined to court their intimacy. Admitting 
 that I may in this respect have acted with unreasonable 
 shyness, I am inclined to think that the policy of 
 keeping aloof was the most advantageous in the end. 
 Isolation was equivalent to independence of thought 
 and action. Contact with the relatives I speak of 
 would have been subjection. 
 
 High principle, however, hardly entered into my 
 calculations. Pursuing my course from a resolute 
 feeling of self-reliance, I just went on without troubling 
 myself about anybody ; trusting that things somehow 
 would come right in the long-run. I should say from 
 my own observation, that young persons often chafe 
 unnecessarily at being neglected by those whom they 
 imagine should take notice of them. On the contrary, 
 as a general rule, they ought to be thankful for being 
 let alone, with a clear stage whereon they can act their 
 part, alike unencumbered with advice or disheartened 
 
88 MEMOIR. 
 
 by adverse criticism. To be always pining to be 
 noticed, brought forward, taken by the hand, and done 
 for, is anything but wise or manly. There are, doubt- 
 less, instances where the deserving are entitled to such 
 assistance as can be safely or conveniently extended 
 towards them. But in too many cases the visionary 
 expectation of aid paralyses exertion, and consumes 
 valuable time that might very properly be devoted to 
 individual effort. At anyrate, I do not doubt that I 
 should have suffered injury at this critical period, by 
 getting entangled with fine people, invited to fine 
 houses, and led to mix in fine evening-parties. Pro- 
 ceedings of that seductive kind would have been 
 distinctly at variance with my condition. What was I 
 but one of a thousand nameless lads, whom in passing 
 no one knew or cared for? Shrouded by insignificance, 
 I could fortunately, like others in a similar situation, 
 work my way on in silence and obscurity, without 
 any provocation to false shame, which almost more 
 than anything else is the stumbling-block of youth. 
 The very circumstance of my having come from the 
 country, and of being little known to young men of my 
 own standing, was a point in my favour. 
 
 It nevertheless, I own, required some fortitude to 
 bear up against the hardships incidental to my situation 
 as a junior apprentice, literally the slave of the lamp, 
 and the drudge of the establishment. Though not 
 beaten and dragooned as I had been at school, it was 
 my destiny to experience no very gentle treatment. 
 My employer, a stern disciplinarian, took the work out 
 of his apprentices. He seemed to have no regard for 
 the number of miles he caused them to walk in a day 
 in the way of business. In addition to his trade as a 
 
THE STA TE L TTER Y. 89 
 
 bookseller, he kept a circulating library, and also 
 acted as an agent for the State Lottery. Independently, 
 therefore, of a multitude of errands with parcels of 
 books and stationery, I was charged with the delivery 
 of vast quantities of circular letters eulogising the suc- 
 cessive lotteries, which, in reason, ought to have been 
 despatched through the post-office. Frequently I was 
 sent on my travels with as many as three hundred 
 letters, sorted and tied in bundles in the manner of a 
 postman ; and as my circuit took me up dozens of long 
 stairs over miles of thoroughfares, I had an opportunity 
 of acquiring a knowledge of the town and the names of 
 its inhabitants. 
 
 In all this I was mercilessly overtasked, and can 
 never cease to think so. But there was something 
 likewise to be thankful for. Sutherland enforced 
 habits of punctuality and order, which happily stuck 
 to me through life, along with a due appreciation of 
 such morsels of time as can be spared from ordinary 
 pursuits. My apprenticeship, like that of many 
 others, was my drill ; a harsh drill, no doubt, but it is 
 difficult to see how, without some kind of vigorous 
 training, youth is to grow into manhood with a proper 
 conception of a number of common-place but im- 
 portant obligations. Certainly, old injunctions say as 
 much. 
 
 My heaviest grievance was the delivery of those 
 odious piles of lottery circulars, a species of labour that 
 in no shape advanced my professional knowledge. To 
 what hand, however, could I turn to rid myself of this 
 slavery? The choice lay between suffering and ruin. 
 It was my safest course to submit. Over the doorway 
 of an old house in the WestBow, which I passed 
 
90 MEMOIR. 
 
 several times daily, was the inscription carved in 
 stone, 
 
 *HE THAT THOLES OVERCOMES.* 
 
 I made up my mind to thole a pithy old Scottish word 
 signifying to bear with patience ; the whole inscription 
 reminding us of a sentiment in Virgil : ' Whatever may 
 happen, every kind of fortune is to be overcome by 
 bearing it.'* 
 
 After all, the drudgery I had in connection with the 
 lotteries is not utterly to be condemned. It afforded 
 an amusing insight into the weaknesses of human 
 nature. I could scarcely have learned what I did by 
 sitting with composure in the lap of ease and luxury. 
 As regards the state lottery, it is interesting for me to 
 remember that I was once a humble minister in that 
 gigantic national concern. And what a queer, strugg- 
 ling, whimsical set of people came under notice ! Some 
 would buy only odd numbers of five figures, such as 
 17,359; some eagerly sought for numbers which they 
 had dreamt of being prizes, and would have no other ; 
 some brought children to select a number from the 
 quantity offered a degree of weakness which was out- 
 done by those who superstitiously brought the seventh 
 son of a seventh son to make the selection for them ; 
 some, more whimsical still, would only purchase at the 
 last moment what everybody else had rejected. Few were 
 so extravagant as to buy whole tickets, or even halves, 
 quarters, or eighths. The great majority contented 
 themselves with a sixteenth, the price of which was 
 usually about a guinea and a half; and as the fortunate 
 holder of the sixteenth of a twenty-thousand-pound 
 
 * ' Quidquid erit, superanda omnis fortuna ferendo est.' sEneid, v. 
 
THE SANCTUARY OF HOLYROOD. 91 
 
 prize would realise above twelve hundred pounds, the 
 temptation to this species of gambling was enormous. 
 
 It would be an error to imagine that the dispersion of 
 those myriads of lottery circulars in the obscurest quarters 
 had no practical efficacy. The chief buyers of sixteenths 
 were persons connected with the markets, hackney-coach- 
 men, waiters at hotels, female housekeepers, small 
 tradesmen, and those of limited means generally, who 
 hoped to become rich by a happy turn of the wheel. 
 Inmates of the Sanctuary of Holyrood and the debtors' 
 prisons were numbered among the steady customers of 
 the state lottery. Both, therefore, as a messenger with 
 lottery intelligence, and as an errand-boy with parcels 
 of books, I had frequent occasion to visit and become 
 less or more acquainted with these places. 
 
 The Sanctuary, which embraced a cluster of decayed 
 buildings in front and on both sides of Holyrood 
 Palace, was at that time more resorted to by refugee 
 debtors than it is in this improved age. It was seldom 
 without distinguished characters from England some 
 of them gaunt, oldish gentlemen, seemingly broken- 
 down men of fashion, wearing big gold spectacles, who 
 now drew out existence here in defiance of creditors. 
 To this august class of persons, who stood in need of 
 supplies of books from the circulating library, I paid 
 frequent visits ; and conscious, perhaps, that they gave 
 me some extra trouble, they were so considerate as to 
 present me with an occasional sixpence, which I could 
 not politely refuse. 
 
 Customers in the Canongate jail, and in the Old 
 Tolbooth, renowned as the * Heart of Mid-Lothian,' 
 were less munificent, but considerably more hearty in 
 their intercourse. The greater number of them were 
 
92 MEMOIR. 
 
 third-rate shopkeepers, who, after struggling for years 
 against debts, rents, and taxes, had finally succumbed 
 to the sheriff-officer, and been drifted to a safe anchor- 
 age, which they did not seem to think particularly 
 unpleasant. The law had done its worst upon them, 
 and for a time they were at rest. 
 
 The chief of these prisons, the Old Tolbooth, was a 
 tall black building in the High Street, noted in the 
 national annals : That Tolbooth on the lofty pinnacle of 
 which was ignominiously stuck the head of the gallant 
 Marquis of Montrose, in 1650, and whence, after 
 bleaching for ten years, it was taken down and replaced 
 by the head of the Marquis of Argyll : That Tolbooth 
 which Byron has referred to with unjustifiable bitterness 
 in his English Bards and Scotch Reviewers : 
 
 ' Arthur's steep summit nodded to its base, 
 The surly Tolbooth scarcely kept her place. 
 The Tolbooth felt for marble sometimes can, 
 On such occasions, feel as much as man 
 The Tolbooth felt defrauded of her charms, 
 If Jeffrey died except within her arms.' 
 
 After undergoing various mutations, this gloomy struc- 
 ture now served the double purpose of a jail for debtors 
 and criminals. The two departments were quite dis- 
 tinct, the apartments for criminals being in the east end, 
 and those for debtors being in the west. But all entered 
 by the same door that portal where the rioters of the 
 Porteous Mob thundered in 1736. This doorway, 
 situated at the foot of the south-eastern turret, was 
 opened by a turnkey who was seated outside, or in a 
 small adjoining vault on the ground-floor of the building. 
 Level with it, facing the north, and occupying the 
 remainder of the street-floor, was the office of the 
 
THE OLD TO LB 00 TIL 93 
 
 Town-guard, who were ready at hand in case of any emer- 
 gency. Having gained an access by the outer portal of 
 the Tolbooth, you ascended a flight of about twenty 
 steps to an inner door, which was opened on the ringing 
 of a bell by the outer turnkey. You were now in the 
 Hall, a spacious apartment, with a sanded stone floor, 
 and seats along the sides. It was well lighted by a large 
 stanchioned window facing the south. Fixed on the 
 wall nearly opposite the doorway, there was a black 
 board, on which was painted the following admonitory 
 inscription, that is said to have been originally and 
 specially designed for the King's Bench Prison : 
 
 ' A prison is a house of care, 
 
 A place where none can thrive, 
 A touchstone true to try a friend, 
 
 A grave for men alive 
 Sometimes a house of right, 
 
 Sometimes a house of wrong, 
 Sometimes a place for jades and thieves, 
 
 And honest men among.' 
 
 The Hall was a common vestibule, whence an entrance 
 was gained to the two departments. While the criminals 
 were confined to their rooms in the East End, the 
 prisoners under civil process, who were lodged in the 
 West End, moved about at pleasure during the day 
 from the Hall to the several apartments on two upper 
 stories ; and, accordingly, for them there was almost the 
 freedom of a lodging-house. The place of public 
 execution was the flat roof of a low building attached 
 to the western gable, and, to reach it, convicts were 
 conducted across the Hall. 
 
 My knowledge of this strange old jail needs a word 
 of explanation. Among the debtors whom I visited in 
 
94 MEMOIR. 
 
 the way of business, there was one, a young man, who 
 had been previously known to our family. Having 
 failed in business under circumstances which led to an 
 unusually long imprisonment, I frequently saw him, and 
 was able to learn numerous particulars concerning the 
 West-Enders and their ways of living, which would 
 otherwise have been beyond my reach. As the Tolbooth 
 was removed in 1817, it was my fortune to be its visitor 
 during the last three years of its existence, and to 
 become familiarised with a condition of things of which 
 there is now no parallel. My experiences of Tolbooth 
 life were in the days of free-and-easy prison arrange- 
 ments. As yet, neither county prison boards nor prison 
 inspectors had been heard of. The magistrates and 
 council undertook the responsibility of cost and manage- 
 ment, also appointed the officials, the chief of whom, 
 honoured with the designation of Captain, was ordinarily 
 some old citizen who stood well with the corporation. 
 There was a simplicity about the whole system, which 
 is now difficult to be realised by any description. So 
 far as the debtors were concerned, the prison was little 
 else than a union of lodging-house and tavern, under 
 lock and key. Acquaintances might call as often and 
 stay as long as they pleased. The inmates and their 
 visitors, if they felt inclined, could treat themselves to 
 refreshments in a cosy little apartment, half-tavern, half- 
 kitchen, superintended by a portly female, styled Lucky 
 Laing, whence issued pretty frequently the pleasant 
 sounds of broiling beef-steaks, and the drawings of corks 
 from bottles of ale and porter. 
 
 Much of the cordiality that prevailed was due to the 
 governor, Captain Sibbald, a benevolently disposed little 
 man, with a merry twinkle in his eyes, dressed in a 
 
THE OLD TOLBOOTH. 95 
 
 sober pepper-and-salt coloured suit. I heard no end of 
 his acts of kindness to debtors as well as criminals, or 
 of putting poor youths in the way of well-doing who had 
 passed through his hands. Although his salary was no 
 more than a hundred and fifty pounds a year, he was 
 known to take on himself the obligation of guaranteeing 
 the payment of a debt, rather than retain in custody a 
 poor man with a large family, brought to him for 
 imprisonment. In the East End, he had almost con- 
 stantly a male or female convict under sentence of 
 death ; and though not able to mitigate their unhappy 
 doom, he always endeavoured to assuage their present 
 sufferings. Until his time, they had been literally fed 
 on bread and water, during the six weeks that elapsed 
 between sentence and execution. He generously broke 
 through this harsh rule, not a little to the dissatisfaction 
 of the Lord Advocate of the day j but in the contest his 
 humanity prevailed, and the rule was ever after practi- 
 cally relaxed. I heard it approvingly said of him, that 
 at his own expense he procured a dentist to draw a 
 tooth which so tortured a convict that he could not 
 sleep ; it was further reported that he always saw that 
 the men were comfortably shaved on the morning of 
 the day they were to be hanged, and that he uniformly 
 pressed a glass of wine on the women on their being 
 conducted through the Hall to execution. Such was 
 the gossip of the prison. 
 
 One of the strange things told of the Tolbooth is, 
 that on various occasions it gave a secure retreat to 
 persons who fled from justice. A gentleman alleged to 
 have been concerned in the Rye-House Plot, in the 
 reign of Charles II., and of whom the civil authorities 
 were in search, received protection from a friend in the 
 
96 MEMOIR. 
 
 Tolbooth, where no one thought of looking for him ; 
 and whence he eventually escaped to the continent. 
 In 1746, there was a similar case 'of protection to a 
 gentleman who was sought after ineffectually for his 
 concern in the Rebellion. 
 
 I can realise the truth of these traditions, by having 
 found a voluntary resident in the Tolbooth, who was 
 not recognised as a prisoner, or as being there at all. 
 This was a gifted but erratic genius, known by his 
 familiar Christian name, Davie, who, after suffering a 
 variety of disasters, received sympathy and succour 
 among his friends in the West End. Of course, for 
 this indulgence, he was indebted to the good-hearted 
 governor, who, like his predecessors, did not find it 
 to be consistent with his duty to be too particular. In 
 making his last round at night, and ascending the spiral 
 staircase, which was provided with a rope that performed 
 the part of a hand-rail, he would considerately, as if by 
 accident, jingle the bunch of well-worn keys, by way of 
 announcing his approach. In casting a look around 
 the apartment to see that all strangers were gone, and 
 saying ' Good-night, gentlemen,' he might have known, 
 had he cared to know, that one of the inmates shared 
 his bed with Davie, who was at that very moment 
 thanks to the jingle of the keys ensconced upright in 
 a tight-fitting wall-press at the corner of the apartment. 
 
 I had often occasion to meet and interchange cour- 
 tesies with Davie, who was an essential adjunct of the 
 prison fraternity. Having lost means, character, and 
 friends in the outer world, he was duly qualified by his 
 obliging manners, his accomplishments, and his poverty, 
 to be an acceptable guest of the West-Enders. The 
 Tolbooth was his home by choice. He lived in it for 
 
DAVIE. 97 
 
 years, seeing out successive groups of debtors, but always 
 as much esteemed by the new-comers as by the older 
 residents. How they could have done without him, it 
 is painful to consider. He was a general factotum 
 went out and made purchases for them, carried messages 
 to law-agents, posted letters, and, on great occasions, 
 ordered in dinners from Mrs Ferguson's, a noted tavern 
 in the neighbourhood. His jocularities, his singing, 
 and his ability to take a hand at whist, were, of course, 
 recommendations of a high order. There were other 
 reasons for thinking well of Davie. He was modest as 
 regards his own wants. Debtors of the better class, on 
 quitting the prison, would make him a present of a few 
 articles of dress, and perhaps kindly leave half-a-crown 
 in one of the pockets. Davie could not be said to have 
 any regular meals. He lived principally on odd crusts 
 of bread, pieces of biscuits, drams, and drops of ale or 
 porter. Talking of drams, it was against rule to intro- 
 duce spirits into the prison, but, through the agency of 
 Davie, there never was any particular scarcity of the 
 article. As a scout serviceable in this as in other things, 
 he stood well with Peter, the keeper of the door in the 
 Hall, rather a good-humoured Cerberus. Peter was 
 blind of an eye, which some might think an advantage ; 
 he wore a woollen cap on his bald head, and always 
 walked softly about the sanded stone floor in carpet- 
 shoes. 
 
 The West End was two rooms in breadth, one entering 
 from the other. The windows in these apartments 
 looked only south and north, but the inmates had a 
 device for extending the prospect in other directions. 
 They had only to hold out a mirror beyond the 
 stanchions to catch a glimpse of who was at the portal 
 
 G 
 
98 MEMOIR. 
 
 near the north-west corner of St Giles, or of what was 
 going on in the street. By means of this kind, they 
 were able to see the remnant of the 42d Regiment 
 as it marched towards the castle on its return from 
 Waterloo. The method of looking directly westwards 
 up the Lawnmarket was still more ingenious. In the 
 gable of the building there was a hole or slit into which 
 the beam of the gallows was inserted for public execu- 
 tions. So intruded, the beam projected about two feet 
 into one of the debtors' apartments, where it made its 
 appearance near the foot of the bed in which Davie 
 participated. I remember paying a visit to the prison 
 on the day after an execution, while it was still a subject 
 of conversation. Confined to their rooms during 'the 
 tragical ceremony, one of the debtors, along with Davie, 
 I was told, had jocularly seated themselves on the inner 
 end of the beam at the time the miserable culprit was 
 in the course of being suspended from the other. The 
 hole in the gable was already closed, but as execu- 
 tions, according to the heartless policy of the period, 
 were then frequent, the building was performed in a 
 superficial way. In the centre of the masonry, a cork 
 was introduced by particular request, and this being 
 pulled out at pleasure, a view was obtained in the 
 required direction a convenience this of no small con- 
 sequence to the West-Enders, which the obliging 
 governor of the establishment did not notice or call in 
 question. 
 
 Besides Davie, who became a naturalised inhabitant 
 of the Tolbooth, there were other hangers-on in whose 
 society the inmates found a degree of solace. For the 
 greater part, the debtors were attempting to carry through 
 the legal process of liberation known as the cessio, and 
 
THE OLD TOLBOOTff. 99 
 
 accordingly required the assistance of law-practitioners. 
 Professional aid in these and other matters was usually 
 rendered by a class of persons who it would be hazardous 
 to say were on the roll of authorised attorneys. A kind 
 of supernumeraries in the profession, and with a know- 
 ledge of forms, they hung about the prisons for jobs ; 
 modestly, as it were, keeping on the outskirts of society, 
 in order to gather up the denied crumbs which the 
 notabilities of the law disdained to recognise. For the 
 services which they rendered to the poorer order of 
 clients, it is not clear that payment was made in coin. 
 Seemingly, they had the run of the prison. When half- 
 a-mutchkin was smuggled in through Davie's valuable 
 assistance, they came in for a tasting, and at various hours 
 of the day not being particular as to time of luncheon 
 they held deeply interesting conferences in Lucky 
 Laing's tavern, over smoking dishes of steaks and 
 creaming tumblers of porter. Talking plentifully between 
 mouthfuls, and winking knowingly with one eye, they 
 held out such sanguine hopes of getting things carried 
 through cheaply no expense to speak of but the office 
 fees as could not fail to raise the drooping spirits of 
 the poor wives who came to hold council with their 
 imprisoned husbands. 
 
 The law-agents of this stamp who frequented the 
 West End had for coadjutor a medical practitioner, 
 not less necessary than themselves in carrying on 
 operations. I am not aware that in the present day 
 the doctor who haunted the Tolbooth has any dis- 
 tinct representative. He had at one time occupied a 
 respectable position as a medical practitioner, but now, 
 broken down by intemperance, he confined his profes- 
 sional services to the inmates of the West End, to 
 
loo MEMOIR. 
 
 whom he made himself presentable by blacking the 
 white edges of his button-moulds with ink, and keeping 
 a band of faded crape on his hat, as if always in deep 
 mourning. It was fortunate for the doctor that the 
 law had considerately instituted the cessio. He lived 
 upon it. Without it, there was no visible refuge but 
 the work-house. His function consisted in granting 
 sick certificates fee, five shillings, with a dram as a 
 matter of course, and a biscuit to give the refection 
 an air of respectability. In virtue of a certificate of 
 this nature, fortified by a warrant from the court, the 
 ailing debtor was allowed to go home to his sorrowing 
 family, and his prescribed thirty days' imprisonment 
 became a sort of legal fiction. At all events, the law 
 was satisfied, which was what the West-Enders alone 
 cared for. I lost sight of the doctor after the Tolbooth 
 was pulled down in 1817. He then disappeared from 
 the visible creation, as a result of one of the many 
 statutory enactments that have latterly rubbed out our 
 social eccentricities. 
 
 As an eddy corner of the world's tumultuous current, 
 into which light floating wreck was naturally swept, 
 the Old Tolbooth, with its scenes of grief and drollery, 
 might not be supposed to be quite an appropriate resort 
 for a lad who had to make his way in the sober track of 
 life. All I can summon to remembrance in the matter 
 is, that I here incidentally saw down into the depths of 
 society, to which the affluent classes have little oppor- 
 tunity of penetrating. My experiences among the shifty 
 sub-middle classes, here as elsewhere, proved by no 
 means the least valuable part of my training for the 
 career into which I was ultimately drifted. Nor has the 
 recollection of the Old Tolbooth and its inmates ever 
 
EFFOR TS AT SELF- INS TR UC TfOJV. 101 
 
 ceased to afford a fund of entertainment. In the 
 Memoirs of a celebrated duchess, we are favoured 
 with the contrast which Her Grace draws between her 
 present grand dull routine of existence, and the times 
 long past, when, skirmishing with pecuniary difficulties, 
 she pursued the life of an actress ; her preference being 
 decidedly given for ' lang syne,' with its sparkling wit, 
 glee, and poverty, unburdened with the vapid solemnities 
 of etiquette. The duchess, however, had no wish to 
 return to these delightful early pursuits. 
 
 I made such attempts as were at all practicable, 
 while an apprentice, to remedy the defects of my 
 education at school. Nothing in that way could be 
 done in the shop, for there reading was proscribed. 
 But allowed to take home a book for study, I gladly 
 availed myself of the privilege. The mornings in 
 summer, when light cost nothing, were my chief 
 reliance. Fatigued with trudging about, I was not 
 naturally inclined to rise, but on this and some other 
 points I overruled the yfill, and forced myself to get 
 up at five o'clock, and have a spell at reading until it 
 was time to think of moving off my brother, when he 
 was with me, doing the same. In this way I made 
 some progress in French, with the pronunciation of 
 which I was already familiar from the speech of the 
 French prisoners of war at Peebles. I likewise dipped 
 into several books of solid worth such as Smith's 
 Wealth of Nations, Locke's Human Understanding, 
 Paley's Moral Philosophy, and Blair's Belles- Lettres 
 fixing the leading facts and theories in my memory by 
 a note-book for the purpose. In another book, I kept 
 for years an accurate account of my expenses, not 
 allowing a single halfpenny to escape record. 
 
102 MEMOIR. 
 
 In the winter of 1815-16, when the cold and cost of 
 candle-light would have detained me in bed, I was so 
 fortunate as to discover an agreeable means of spending 
 my mornings. The sale of lottery tickets, I have said, 
 formed a branch of my employer's business. Besides 
 distributing the lottery circulars, it fell to my lot to 
 paste all the large show-boards with posters of glaring 
 colours, bearing the words 'Lucky Office/ 'Twenty 
 Thousand Pounds still in the Wheel,' and such-like 
 seductive announcements. The board-carriers shilling- 
 a-day men were usually a broken-down set of charac- 
 ters ; as, for example, old waiters and footmen, with 
 pale flabby faces and purple noses ; discharged soldiers, 
 who had returned in a shattered condition from the 
 wars ; and tattered operatives of middle age, ruined by 
 dram-drinking. 
 
 Among the last-named class of board-carriers, there 
 was a journeyman baker who had an eye irretrievably 
 damaged by some rough, but possibly not unprovoked, 
 usage in a king's birthday riot. What from the bad 
 eye, and what from whiskey, this unfortunate being had 
 fallen out of regular employment. Now and then, when 
 there was a push in the trade, as at the New-year, he 
 got a day's work from his old employer, a baker in 
 Canal Street. He was not at all nice as to occupa- 
 tion : he would deliver hand-bills, perambulate the 
 streets with a lottery-board at the top of a pole over 
 his shoulder, or anything else that cast up only he 
 needed a little watching, for, when out on a job with 
 the relics of the previous day's shilling in his pocket, he 
 was prone to thirstiness in passing a dram-shop, 
 into which he would dive, board and all, regardless of 
 consequences. 
 
THE LITERARY BAKER. 103 
 
 From this hopeful personage, whom it was my duty 
 to look after, I one day had a proposition, which he 
 had been charged to communicate. If I pleased, he 
 would introduce me to his occasional employer, the 
 baker in Canal Street, who, he said, was passionately 
 fond of reading, but without leisure for its gratification. 
 If I would go early very early say five o'clock in the 
 morning, and read aloud to him and his two sons, 
 while they were preparing their batch, I should be 
 regularly rewarded for my trouble with a penny roll 
 newly drawn from the oven. Hot rolls, as I have 
 since learned, are not to be recommended for the 
 stomach, but I could not in these times afford to be 
 punctilious. The proposal was too captivating to be 
 resisted, 
 
 Behold me, then, quitting my lodgings in the West 
 Port, before five o'clock in the winter mornings, and 
 pursuing my way across the town to the cluster of 
 sunk streets below the North Bridge, of which Canal 
 Street was the principal. The scene of operations was 
 a cellar of confined dimensions, reached by a flight of 
 steps descending from the street, and possessing a small 
 back window immediately beyond the baker's kneading- 
 board. Seated on a folded-up sack in the sole of the 
 window, with a book in one hand and a penny candle 
 stuck in a bottle near the other, I went to work for the 
 amusement of the company. The baker was not 
 particular as to subject. All he stipulated for was 
 something comic and laughable. Aware of his tastes, I 
 tried him first with flie jocularities of Roderick Rcuidom, 
 which was a great success, and produced shouts of 
 laughter. I followed this up with other works of 
 Smollett, also with the novels of Fielding, and with 
 
104 MEMOIR. 
 
 Gil Bias ; the tricks and grotesque rogueries in this 
 last-mentioned work of fiction giving the baker and his 
 two sons unqualified satisfaction. My services as a 
 reader for two and a half hours every morning were 
 unfailingly recompensed by a donation of the antici- 
 pated roll, with which, after getting myself brushed 
 of the flour, I went on my way to shop-opening, lamp- 
 cleaning, and all the rest of it, at Calton Street. It 
 would be vain in the present day to try to discover the 
 baker's work-shop, where these morning performances 
 took place, for the whole of the buildings in this quarter 
 have been removed to make way for the North British 
 Railway station. 
 
 Such, with minor variations, was my mode of life for 
 several years an almost ceaseless drudgery. At that 
 period, there were no public institutions of a popular 
 kind to stimulate and regulate plans of self-culture. 
 The School of Arts, the precursor of mechanics' insti- 
 tutions, was not set on foot until 1821. Young persons 
 in humble circumstances were still left to grope their 
 way. They might spend their spare hours in study, if 
 they had a mind ; nobody cared anything at all about 
 it. Neither were young men, by the usages of business, 
 allowed any time to carry out fancies as to mental 
 improvement. Shop-hours extended from half-past 
 seven o'clock in the morning till nine at night, with no 
 abatement on Saturdays. Notions of mere amusement 
 I did not dare to entertain. The Theatre Royal had 
 its attractions, but expense, if nothing else, stood in the 
 way. I had as yet been only once in the theatre. A 
 friend of our family had treated me to the shilling- 
 gallery, shortly after coming to Edinburgh ; it was to see- 
 John Kemble, who played Rollo a subject of absorbing 
 
JAMES AND GEORGE KING. 105 
 
 interest and not for a number of years afterwards 
 could I venture on any species of theatrical indulgence. 
 In gracefully submitting to this self-denial, perhaps I 
 had no great merit. So far as spare time was con- 
 cerned, my mind had become occupied not only in the 
 morning readings and study, but in sundry scientific 
 experiments, to which I was led by James King, who 
 was an apprentice to a seedsman next door. 
 
 King was two to three years my senior, and I looked 
 up to him on that account as well as for his general 
 ability. He came from Fife, which is noted for the 
 saliency and genius of its people. Our proximity to 
 each other, and similarity of tastes, brought us into 
 acquaintance. He had a younger brother, George, an 
 apprentice to Mr Crombie, a well-known dyer, with 
 whom I also became acquainted ; and when my brother 
 Robert came to town to lodge with me, he was intro- 
 duced to the circle. We formed, so to speak, a club of 
 four lads, devoted to some species of scientific inquiry 
 and recreation. The Kings were great upon chemistry. 
 Their talk was of retorts, alkalies, acids, combustion, 
 and oxygen gas, all which gave me a favourable opinion 
 of their learning. They likewise spoke so familiarly 
 of electricity, Leyden jars, and the galvanic pile, as to 
 excite in me a desire to know something of these 
 marvels. Chemistry and electricity became accordingly 
 the subject of discussion and experiment ; but the diffi- 
 culty was to know where experiments could be con- 
 ducted. My lodgings were out of the question. So 
 were those of the Kings. They lived in a garret, 
 situated immediately behind the well on the south side 
 of the Grassmarket, which it was inexpedient to con- 
 stitute a hall of science, and the notion of resorting to 
 
106 MEMOIR. 
 
 it was given up. In this dilemma, a friendly and 
 every way suitable retreat, which remains vividly in 
 my recollections, presented itself, and was gratefully 
 accepted. 
 
 As you go up a narrow and steep road to the Calton 
 Hill, at the foot of Leith Street, a covered passage 
 descends and strikes off to the left, and conducts you 
 to a confined court, wherein stood and perhaps still 
 stands a small cottage with a tiled roof, that -had to 
 all appearance existed long before the streets with which 
 it was environed. The back window in Calton Street, 
 where I used to clean the lamps, looked into the court, 
 and I could notice that the little old-fashioned cottage 
 was occupied by a thin and aged personage with a 
 bright-brown scratch-wig, who, in fine weather, made his 
 appearance on the pavement as a common street-porter. 
 The name by which he was known in the neighbourhood 
 was Jamie Alexander. As voucher for his respectability, 
 he wore on the left breast of his coat a pewter badge, 
 marked No. 3, indicative of the early period at which he 
 had been enrolled by the magistrates in the fraternity of 
 porters ; and of this antiquity of his emblem of office 
 he felt naturally proud ; x all other porters, however 
 old, being boys in comparison, and not possessing that 
 distinction of rank which he did. 
 
 Jamie was a Highlander by birth, and in his youth, 
 long ago, had been a servant to a Mr Tytler, a gentle- 
 man of literary and scientific attainments, with whom 
 he had travelled and seen the world, and in whose 
 company he had picked up a smattering of learned 
 ideas and words. With this grounding, and naturally 
 handy, Jamie was a kind of Jack-of-all-trades. It was 
 in his capacity of porter that King and I had become 
 
JAMIE ALEXANDER. 107 
 
 acquainted with him, but at his advanced age he relied 
 more distinctly on less toilsome pursuits. The versa- 
 tility of his talents rendered him peculiarly acceptable 
 as an acquaintance, and his house was well adapted 
 for our meetings. This ancient mansion consisted of 
 only a single apartment : it was kitchen, parlour, bed- 
 room, and workshop all in one a queer and incongruous 
 jumble, like the mind of the occupant 
 
 Usually, at night, we found Jamie seated at one side 
 of his fire, and his wife Janet, a more common-place 
 character, at the other. Behind the old man was his 
 work-bench, loaded with a variety of tools and odds 
 and ends adapted to a leading branch of employment, 
 which consisted in clasping broken china and crystal 
 for the stoneware shops. This operation he performed 
 with a neatness that surprised most persons, who knew 
 that he had lost the sight of one of his eyes. It did not 
 seem to be generally understood that Jamie had a 
 contrivance satisfactory to himself for remedying this 
 ocular deficiency. In his old pair of spectacles he fixed 
 two glasses for the seeing eye, and he maintained that 
 by this arrangement of a double lens, his single eye was 
 as good to him as two a point we did not think fit to 
 contest. 
 
 To vary the routine of employment, and at the same 
 time enjoy a little outdoor recreation, Jamie at times 
 took a job from the undertakers. Dressed in a thread- 
 bare black suit, he walked as a sanlie before the higher 
 class of funerals, with his hat under his arm, and the 
 black velvet cap of a running-footman covering his 
 brown wig. In connection with his profession of saulie, 
 he related numerous traditionary anecdotes illustrative 
 of the festivities of deceased saulie and gumfler men in 
 
log MEMOIR. 
 
 the servants-hall of great houses,* while waiting in 
 lugubrious habiliments to head the funeral solemnity 
 his stories reminding one of the interspersal of scenes 
 of drollery throughout the tragedies of Shakspeare, and 
 I doubt not, true to nature. Besides these diverting 
 reminiscences of grand funerals, he gave his experiences 
 of grave-digging in the Calton burying-ground, where he 
 often assisted. He confidently stated that the digging 
 of graves was a wonderfully exhilarating and healthful 
 occupation, if executed with proper skill and leisure. 
 Nothing, in his opinion, was so efficacious in assuaging 
 a rheumatism in the back, or securing long life ; and to 
 hear him on this subject, you would have thought it 
 would be a good thing in the way of health and amuse- 
 ment to take to regular exercise in grave-digging. It 
 appeared that independently of payment for this kind 
 of labour according to tariff, Jamie seldom left the 
 ground without a few bits of old coffin in good 
 condition, which had been thrown to the surface in the 
 course of excavation. Such pieces of wood, improved 
 by seasoning in the earth, he said, excelled for some 
 purposes of art. From them he made a common kind 
 of fiddles, and also cheap wooden clocks. 
 
 With much oddity of character, there was a fine spirit 
 of industry, cheerfulness, and contentment in the old 
 man. As a Highlander, he spoke Gaelic, and from him I 
 learned to be tolerably proficient in pronouncing that test 
 in the language, laogh, the word for calf. With a love of 
 the ancient music of the hills, he played the bagpipe, 
 but this instrument, from deficiency of breath, he had 
 
 * Mutes bearing tall poles shrouded in black drapery are called 
 in Scotland gumfler-men ; such being a corruption of gonfalonier, 
 the bearer of a gonfalon, or standard, in old ceremonial processions. 
 
ELECTRICAL EXPERIMENTS. 109 
 
 latterly laid aside, and taken to the Irish pipes, which 
 are played by means of bellows under the arm. His 
 pipes lay conveniently on a shelf over his work-bench, 
 and taking them down, he, at our request, would 
 favour us with a pibroch. Having finished the tune, 
 he ordinarily delivered some oracular remarks on pipe- 
 music in general, and of the operatic character of the 
 pibroch in particular the only time, by the way, I ever 
 heard the thing explained. 
 
 Janet, the mistress of the mansion, did not greatly 
 encourage our visits. Her chief concern in life seemed 
 to consist in nursing a small and ingeniously made-up 
 fire, which was apt to be seriously deranged by King's 
 chemical experiments such as the production of coal- 
 gas in a blacking-bottle, used by way of retort the 
 proposal of lighting the city with gas having suggested 
 this novel experiment. For a special reason, this old 
 woman was not more favourable to electric science. 
 Under King's advice and directions, my brother and I 
 contrived out of very poor resources to procure a 
 cylindrical electrifying-machine, with some apparatus to 
 correspond. Having one night given Janet an electric 
 shock, slily conveyed to her through a piece of damp 
 tobacco, she ever after viewed the machine with the 
 darkest suspicions. In these apprehensions her gray 
 cat had some reason to join ; when the Leyden jars 
 were placed on the table, she fled to the roof of the 
 bed, and there kept eyeing us during our mysterious 
 incantations. 
 
 Sunday, with its blessed exemption from a dull round 
 of duties, came weekly with its soothing influences ; and 
 this leads to a little explanation. If any one is so 
 complimentary as to think that I had some merit in 
 
no MEMOIR. 
 
 devising how to live on so low a figure as a shilling and 
 ninepence a week, he may be disposed to modify his 
 surprise on my stating that the expenditure did not 
 include Sunday; so that, after all, the one-and-ninepence 
 weekly inferred as much as threepence-halfpenny a day. 
 For several years, I walked home to the country every 
 Saturday night. Between nine and ten o'clock, in all 
 states of the weather, summer and winter, I might have 
 been found making the best of my way down the North 
 Back of the Canongate, past Holyrood, across the 
 King's Park by Muschet's Cairn, and so on through 
 Portobello. It was necessary not to loiter by the way, 
 for, with a somewhat limited wardrobe, a few things 
 which I carried with me had to be washed and otherwise 
 prepared before midnight. In these night-travels, my 
 brother Robert, while he remained in town, accom- 
 panied me. 
 
 The Sundays spent on the shore of the Firth of 
 Forth formed a refreshing change on the ordinary course 
 of life. The salt-pans had ceased to send up their 
 nauseous vapours and clouds of smoke. A pleasant and 
 not uninstructive calm was experienced amidst the shell 
 and tangle covered rocks, against which the pellucid 
 waves of the sea dashed in unremitting murmurs. 
 Usually, I went to Inveresk Church with other members 
 of the family, and so became acquainted with Mussel- 
 burgh and its environs. Sometimes I walked by a 
 footpath across the fields by Brunstain and Millerhill 
 to Dalkeith, to visit my grandmother, Mrs Noble, and 
 her younger son David, who had recently been settled 
 there (Robert, the elder son, having gone to Nova 
 Scotia), and enjoyed the variety of accompanying them 
 to the antique parish church of that pretty country town. 
 
SABS A TH-DA Y MUSINGS, 1 1 1 
 
 There was an immense charm in these occasional 
 Sabbath-day walks to Dalkeith, in which I usually 
 carried a French New Testament in my pocket for 
 lingual exercise. The sunshine, the calm that prevailed, 
 the fresh air, the singing of birds, the green leafy trees, 
 and the blossoming wild-flowers by the way-side, all 
 filled my heart with gladness, for they renewed my 
 recollections of the country. The fields, stuck about 
 with coal-pits, at which the gin-horses had intermitted 
 their accustomed toil, were not such pretty fields as 
 I had seen on Tweedside; still, they were environed 
 with hedgerows, and formed a pleasing contrast to the 
 huge rows of dingy buildings among which I pursued my 
 ordinary employment. As a boy, I had passionately culti- 
 vated flowers in a little garden assigned to me, and now 
 rejoiced to see a few growing by the side of the pathway. 
 The Mid-Lothian primroses, I imagined considering 
 the neighbourhood of the coal-pits had not the fresh- 
 ness and bloom of the primroses which I had gathered 
 in the woods and dells at Neidpath ; but still they were 
 primroses, and, as the best within reach, I plucked and 
 carried home a handful as a gift to my mother in 
 her dreary residence at the Pans, and was pleased to see 
 her put them in a glass with a little water, to preserve 
 as a souvenir of my weekly visit. 
 
 The small smoke-dried community at these salt-pans 
 was socially interesting. Along with the colliers in the 
 neighbouring tiled hamlets, the salt-makers at least 
 the elderly among them had at one time been serfs, 
 and in that condition they had been legally sold along 
 with the property on which they dwelt. I conversed 
 with some of them on the subject. They and their 
 children had been heritable fixtures to the spot. They 
 
ii2 MEMOIR. 
 
 could neither leave at will nor change their profession. 
 In short, they were in a sense slaves. I feel it to be 
 curious that I should have seen and spoken to persons 
 in this country who remembered being legally in a state 
 of serfdom; and such they were until the year 1799, 
 when an act of parliament abolished this last remnant 
 of slavery in the British Islands. Appreciating the 
 event, they set aside one day in the year as a festival 
 commemorative of their liberation. Perhaps the custom 
 of celebrating the day still exists. 
 
 After these Sunday communings with the family, I 
 was on Monday morning off again for Edinburgh to 
 have a fresh tug at the shop-shutters carrying away 
 with me, I need hardly say, all kinds of admonitory 
 hints from my mother ; the burden of her recommenda- 
 tions being to avoid low companions, to mind whom 
 I was come of, and * aye to haud forrit.' What was to 
 become of me was, as she said, a perfect mystery ; still 
 there was nothing like securing a good character in the 
 meanwhile that was clear, at all events. 
 
 My mother, however, had more cause for uneasiness 
 on her own than my account. The aspect of family 
 affairs was acquiring additional gloom. My father was 
 not the man for the situation he filled. In fact, he 
 detested situations of all kinds. His rough and irri- 
 table spirit of independence gave him a dislike to be 
 ordered by anybody. His feelings at this period were 
 in a morbid condition, the result of circumstances 
 already adverted to, and therefore not to be judged 
 severely. Having unfortunately failed in the means of 
 acting an independent part, he was perhaps on that 
 account the more anxious that his sons should be 
 successful in making the attempt. At anyrate, he 
 
A PATERNAL DISQUISITION. 113 
 
 endeavoured to impress on me the vast necessity and 
 advantage of, in all things, thinking for myself, and 
 taking, as far as possible, an independent course. He 
 objected to my ever entertaining the notion of con- 
 tinuing to serve any one after my apprenticeship had 
 expired. No amount of salary was to tempt me; no 
 prospect of ease to seduce me. I should strike out 
 for myself, if it were only to sell books in a basket 
 from door to door. There might be suffering and 
 humiliation in the meantime ; but I would be daily 
 gaining experience, and, with prudence, accumulating 
 means. If I behaved myself properly, a few years 
 would set all to rights. 
 
 These disquisitions amused and probably had some 
 effect in inspiring me. My father had strong convic- 
 tions as to the propriety of allowing children to think 
 and struggle for themselves; such, as he conveniently 
 thought, being true kindness, and anything else little 
 better than cruelty. Seated in his arm-chair at the 
 Pans, with two or three of us about him, he would 
 discourse in this pleasant way, mingling anecdote with 
 philosophy. 
 
 ' You think it a hard business, I daresay ' addressing 
 me ' to live in your present pinching way, scheming as 
 to buying meal and milk, and all that ; but it is doing 
 you an immense deal of good. It is strengthening your 
 mind, and teaching you the art of thinking that is the 
 great point. You should be thankful for my not doing 
 anything for you. Perhaps you would like to have 
 everything held up to you lodgings, tailors' bills, boots, 
 and what not, all paid for the asking. What would be 
 the upshot ? You would never know the value of money. 
 You would grow up as ignorant and dependent as a 
 
 H 
 
ii4 MEMOIR. 
 
 child, and never be able to take a front rank in the 
 world. It is melancholy to see so many fathers spoiling 
 their children from mistaken notions of kindness. 
 Young men treated in that foolish way can do nothing 
 for themselves, but must have somebody always behind 
 them to shove them into situations, where their minds 
 lose all power of thinking and planning correctly. No 
 doubt, they can plan what they would like to have for 
 dinner few folk are ill at that or about going to the 
 theatre, or what should be the colour of their gloves. 
 But that is not what I mean. What I am speaking of is 
 the .faculty of thinking and acting for yourself in all 
 kinds of unexpected difficulty. I could tell you plenty 
 of stories about inability to think or act independently. 
 You remember the excise-officer at Peebles, who for a 
 number of years looked after Kerfield Brewery a most 
 excellent person, but not qualified to think for himself. 
 His mind had been stunted for want of exercise. Stirred 
 up by his wife, an ambitious little woman, with whom he 
 had received some money, he inconsiderately threw up 
 his situation, and purchased the effects of a deceased 
 brewer at Galashiels; his object being to go into business 
 for himself. When he came to look into matters, he was 
 utterly at a loss. It was all simple enough, but the man 
 had no power of planning. Besides putting things in 
 repair, he had to buy grain and hops, order new barrels, 
 purchase horses, and hire servants. For one thing, he 
 had to open and read a hundred and thirty-nine letters 
 applying for the situation of clerk. All this, along 
 with other perplexities, drove him clean wild. He 
 felt that he had got into an affair he could not go 
 through with, and then, when he reflected upon the loss 
 of his comfortable situation, and still worse the loss of 
 
OLD SMIBERT. 115 
 
 his money, he became seriously ill, and took to his bed. 
 In these circumstances, his wife, greatly at a loss what 
 to do, sent for our old friend Smibert, who was once 
 Provost of Peebles, a man of extraordinary shrewdness. 
 From his cleverness, we used to call him Talleyrand. 
 When the poor sick man saw the old Provost make his 
 appearance, he felt a wonderful degree of relief. The 
 wife, sitting by the side of the bed, explained the scrape 
 they had got into, and asked what should be done. 
 
 "Done," answered their visitor, leaning on his crooked- 
 headed stick to save his lame leg; "what's to be done 
 but to sell off the whole concern, and try to get reinstated 
 in the Excise." 
 
 " Very good," said the wife ; " but how is the sale to 
 be effected ? it 's easy speaking." 
 
 "Leave it all to me," replied Smibert briskly; "I 
 know how to manage : I '11 advertise and take in offers." 
 
 ' The words had not been well spoken, when the sick 
 man declared he found himself getting well, and that 
 they might take the blister from the back of his neck. 
 In a day or two, he was quite recovered. Talleyrand 
 arranged matters beautifully. He sold off the concern, 
 though at a sacrifice to the owner, who, after some 
 trouble, got himself reinstated in the Excise; but he 
 had to begin over again, and lost ten years on the 
 books by his ridiculous attempt at independent exertion.' 
 
 Such was the run of my father's disquisitions. Unfor- 
 tunately, his extreme views of independence did not 
 comport with his functions as manager of the salt-works, 
 where he suffered a species of ignominious banishment. 
 Among the near neighbours were a few excise-officers 
 set to watch over the works and give permits to pur- 
 chasers. One of these officials was a Mr Stobie, in 
 
ii6 MEMOIR. 
 
 whom there was a degree of interest ; for, while in the 
 position of an expectant of Excise, he had done duty 
 for Robert Burns in his kst illness, April 1796, when, 
 as the poet says in a letter to Thomson : ' Ever since I 
 wrote you last, I have only known existence by the 
 pressure of the heavy hand of sickness, and have 
 counted time by the repercussions of pain.' It redounded 
 to the honour of Stobie that he acted gratuitously for 
 Burns at this melancholy crisis, and it was pleasing for 
 our family to make his acquaintance, and hear some 
 particulars of the greatest among Scottish poets. 
 
 Beyond such acquaintanceships, there was little to 
 compensate for the smoke, dirt, and misery that were 
 endured at the Pans. The business in itself violated 
 all my father's notions of propriety. It consisted 
 almost wholly in supplying material for a contraband 
 trade across the Border to England; the high duties 
 on salt in the latter country rendering this a profitable 
 traffic. Purchased in large quantities at Joppa and 
 other salt-works, the bags were transferred in carts to 
 Newcastleton in Liddesdale, where the article was 
 stored by a dealer, and sold by him to be smuggled 
 across the fells during the night For years, this was 
 a great trade. Perhaps it did not pertain to the Scotch 
 salt-makers to urge the extinction of so flourishing a 
 traffic ; but neither could any one of susceptible feelings 
 look on it with perfect complacency. 
 
 Whatever were the precise causes of discord, a dis- 
 ruption was precipitated by my father having the mis- 
 fortune to be waylaid and robbed of some money which 
 he had collected in the way of business in Edinburgh. 
 Knocked down and grievously bruised about the head, 
 he was found late at night lying helpless on the road, 
 
A FRESH FA MIL Y DISA STER. 1 1 7 
 
 and brought home by some good Samaritan. The pain- 
 ful circumstances connected with this untoward affair 
 led to his being discharged from his office. In his now 
 hapless state, greatly disabled by the injuries which he 
 had received, and without means, the consideration of 
 everything fell on my mother. Her mind rose to the 
 occasion. Removing from the sooty precinct to one of 
 a row of houses near Magdalene Bridge, on the road to 
 Musselburgh, she prepared to set on foot a small busi- 
 ness, and was not without hope of meeting with general 
 sympathy and support, for, by her agreeable manners 
 and exemplary conduct under various difficulties, she 
 had made some good friends of different classes in the 
 neighbourhood. 
 
 With something like dismay, I heard of this fresh 
 disaster the climax, it was to be hoped, of a series 
 of agonising misfortunes. The house at the Pans had 
 been about the most revolting of human habitations, 
 but it at least gave shelter, and bore with it some means 
 of livelihood. Now, all that was at an end. The future 
 was to be a matter of new contrivance. Of course, I 
 hastened from town to condole over present distresses, 
 and share in the family counsels. On my unexpected 
 arrival near midnight cold, wet, and wayworn all was 
 silent in that poor home. In darkness by my mother's 
 bed-side, I talked with her of the scheme she had 
 projected. It was little I could do. Some insignificant 
 savings were at her disposal, and so was a windfall over 
 which I had cause for rejoicing. By a singular piece of 
 good fortune, I had the previous day been presented 
 with half a guinea by a good-hearted tradesman, 
 on being sent to him with the agreeable intelligence 
 that he had got the sixteenth of a twenty thousand 
 
iiS MEMOIR. 
 
 pound prize in the state lottery. The little bit of gold 
 was put into my mother's hand. With emotion too 
 great for words, my own hand was pressed gratefully in 
 return. The loving pressure of that unseen hand in 
 the midnight gloom, has it not proved more than the 
 ordinary blessing of a mother on her son ? 
 
 ' All this, still legible in memory's page, 
 And still to be so to my latest age, 
 Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 
 Such honours to thee as my numbers may ; 
 Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere 
 Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.' 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 Early in the following morning, I was back to busi- 
 ness in Calton Street. My mother's ingenious efforts, 
 conducted with consummate tact, and wholly regardless 
 of toil, were successful. Her only embarrassment was 
 my father, prematurely broken down in body and mind. 
 It is not the purpose, however, of the present memoir 
 to pursue the family history. Let us revert to the 
 leading object in hand. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 ROBERT'S EARLY DIFFICULTIES 1814 TO 1819. 
 
 TT will be necessary to go back a little, in order to 
 . trace the difficulties that were encountered by 
 Robert in the early part of his career, while I was still 
 following out the duties of an apprentice. 
 
 The family depression during this gloomy period was 
 felt more acutely by my brother than by myself, for, 
 besides being more susceptible in feelings, he was, from 
 his gentle and retiring habits, less able to face the stern 
 realities with which we were unitedly environed. Left, 
 as has been said, for a time in Peebles to pursue his 
 studies at the grammar-school, he was finally brought to 
 Edinburgh, and placed at a noted classical academy 
 that of Mr Benjamin Mackay, in West Register Street, 
 preparatory to being (if possible) sent to the university. 
 There was an understanding in the family that, as the 
 most suitable professional pursuit, he was to be prepared 
 for the church. The expenses attending on this course 
 of education were considerably beyond present capa- 
 bilities, but all was to be smoothed over by a bur- 
 sary, of which a distant relative held out some vague 
 expectations. 
 
120 MEMOIR. 
 
 When the family quitted Edinburgh, Robert accom- 
 panied them, but shortly afterwards, with a considerable 
 strain on finances, he was associated with me in my 
 West Port lodgings. Here, from the uncongenial habits 
 with which he was brought in contact, he felt consider- 
 ably out of place. I was fortunately absent during the 
 greater part of the v day in my accustomed duties ; but 
 he, after school hours, had to rely on such refuge as 
 could be found at the unattractive fireside of our land- 
 lady, who, though disposed to be kind in her way, was 
 so chilled by habits of penury as to give little consider- 
 ation for the feelings of the poor scholar. He spoke to 
 me of his sufferings and the efforts he made to assuage 
 them. The want of warmth was his principal dis- 
 comfort. Sometimes benumbed with cold, he was glad 
 to adjourn to that ever hospitable retreat, the Old 
 Tolbooth, where, like myself, he was received as a 
 welcome visitor by the West-Enders; and it is not 
 unworthy of being mentioned, that the oddities of char- 
 acter among these unfortunate, though on the whole 
 joyous, prisoners, and their professional associates 
 not forgetting Davie formed a fund of recollection on 
 which he afterwards drew for literary purposes. That 
 strange old prison, with its homely arrangements, was 
 therefore to him, as to me, identified with early asso- 
 ciations a thing the remembrance of which became 
 to both a subject of life-long amusement. There was 
 also some exhilaration for him in occasionally attending 
 the nightly book auctions, where, favoured with light 
 and warmth, seated in a by-corner, he could study his 
 lessons, as well as derive a degree of entertainment from 
 the scene which was presented. A further source of 
 evening recreation, but not till past nine o'clock, and 
 
MA CKA Y'S A CADE MY. 121 
 
 then only for an hour, was found in those meetings with 
 the brothers King and myself for mutual scientific 
 instruction. 
 
 Viewed apart from these solacements, his life was 
 dreary in the extreme. Half-starved, unsympathised 
 with, and looking for no comfort at home, he probably 
 would have lost heart but for the daily exercises at 
 school, where he stood as rival and class-fellow of 
 Mackay's best pupils. A good Latinist considering his 
 years, and appreciative of wit and humour, he had an 
 immense love of the odes and satires of Horace, nor 
 was he scarcely a less admirer of the classic myths 
 of Virgil, for they touched on that chord of romance 
 and legendary lore which vibrated in his own mental 
 constitution. 
 
 Ever since his arrival in Edinburgh, and without 
 suggestion from any one, he had taken delight in 
 exploring, at fitting times, what was ancient and historic- 
 ally interesting in the Old Town, which, for tastes of 
 this kind, presents a peculiarly comprehensive field of 
 inquiry. Once crowded within defensive walls, the older 
 part of the city remained a dense cluster of tall dark 
 buildings, lining the central street and diverging lanes, 
 or closes, with comparatively little change in exterior 
 aspect However altered as regards the quality of the 
 dwellers on the different floors, the tenements still 
 exhibited innumerable artistic and heraldic tokens of the 
 past ; nor were the environs of the town less illustrative 
 of moving incidents of the olden time. To this huge 
 antiquarian preserve, as it might be called, with its varied 
 legends, my brother immediately attached himself with 
 the fervour of a first love, for so enduring was it as 
 materially to tinge the rest of his existence. 
 
122 MEMOIR. 
 
 Patiently ranging up one close and down another, 
 ascending stairs, and poking into obscure courts, he 
 took note of carvings over doorways, pondered on the 
 structure of old gables and windows, examined risps 
 the antique mechanism which had answered the pur- 
 pose of door-knockers ; and extending the scope of his 
 researches, scarcely a bit of Arthur's Seat or the Braid 
 Hills was left unexplored. The Borough-moor, where 
 James IV. marshalled his army before marching to the 
 fatal field of Flodden ; the ' bore-stone,' in which, on 
 that occasion, was planted the royal standard 
 
 * The staff, a pine-tree, strong and straight, 
 Pitched deeply in a massive stone, 
 Which still in memory is shewn, 
 
 Yet bent beneath the standard's weight 
 Whene'er the western wind unrolled, 
 With toil, the huge and cumbrous fold, 
 And gave to view the dazzling field, 
 Where in proud Scotland's royal shield, 
 The ruddy lion ramped in gold.' 
 
 Marmion. 
 
 Royston, where the Earl of Hertford landed with an 
 English army, and proceeded to set fire to and destroy 
 Edinburgh; the spot at the Kirk of Field, where Darnley 
 was blown up; the tomb of the Earl of Murray; the grassy 
 mounds in Bruntsfield Links, which formed the relics 
 of Cromwell's batteries when besieging the castle after 
 the victory of Dunbar ; the grave-stone in the Greyfriars 
 Churchyard on which, in 1638, was signed the National 
 Covenant; the adjoining enclosure, in which, for a 
 time, were pent up, like cattle, the crowd of prisoners 
 taken at the battle of Bothwell Bridge; the closed-up 
 postern of the castle surmounting the precipitous rocks 
 up which Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, clambered to 
 
LEG END A RY L ORE. 1 23 
 
 confer with the governor (and how he got either up or 
 down no one can tell), when setting out for his last field, 
 Killiecrankie ; these, and such like historical memorials, 
 became all familiar to my brother by making good use 
 of intervals that could be spared from his daily attend- 
 ance at the academy. 
 
 Though only twelve months had elapsed since he 
 came from the country, and not yet fourteen years of 
 age, he already, possessed a knowledge of things con- 
 cerning the old city and its romantic history which many, 
 it may be supposed, do not acquire in the course of a 
 lifetime. While most other youths, his school-mates, 
 gave themselves up to amusements not unbecoming for 
 their age, his recreations had all in them something of the 
 nature of instruction. And such were his extraordinary 
 powers of memory, that whatever he saw or learned, he 
 never forgot ; everything which could interest the mind 
 being treasured up as a fund of delightful recollections 
 ready to be of service when wanted. 
 
 At the academy were a few boys, the sons of citizens, 
 who indulged in fancies not unlike his own, and with 
 whom he formed a lasting friendship. They could tell 
 legendary stories of marvellous events in the city annals, 
 connected with reputed wizards, noted eccentric char- 
 acters, and remarkable criminals, to which he listened 
 with avidity as, for example, the story of Major Weir, 
 who, for the commission of a series of atrocities, was con- 
 demned and executed in 1670, and whose house in the 
 West Bow enjoyed the reputation of being so much under 
 the dominion of evil spirits, that no person would live in 
 it for more than a hundred years afterwards ; for when 
 any family made the attempt, they were subject to such 
 an extraordinary illusion of the senses, that in going up 
 
124 MEMOIR. 
 
 the stair they felt as if they were going down, and when 
 going down that they were going up ; Or the story of 
 Deacon Brodie, a man moving in a good position, who, 
 having long secretly carried on a system of depredations, 
 was ultimately condemned and executed for committing 
 a burglary on the Excise Office, 1788; Or the still 
 more curious story of a lad who, while under sentence 
 of death in the Old Tolbooth, escaped by a clever 
 device of his father, and lay for weeks concealed in the 
 mausoleum of the 'Bluidy Mackenyie,' where he was 
 secretly supplied with food by the boys of Heriot's 
 Hospital, till he escaped from the country; Or what 
 remained still a matter of public horror and wonderment, 
 the assassination and robbery of Begbie, a bank porter, 
 in 1806, the perpetrator of which double crime had 
 never been discovered, notwithstanding all the efforts 
 of the authorities. 
 
 By these varied means in his early youth, in the midst 
 of difficulties, Robert laid the foundation of much that 
 afterwards assumed shape in literature ; although at the 
 time he was only satisfying a natural craving for what 
 was traditionally curious. Looking back to the days 
 when we lived together in the West Port, I cannot 
 recollect that he ever spent a moment in what was 
 purely amusing, or of no practical avail. Nor was this 
 a sacrifice. The acquisition of knowledge was with him 
 the highest of earthly enjoyments. It was well for him 
 that he had these soothing resources. What his trials 
 were at this time may be learned from the following 
 passages in a letter written by him, in 1829, to the 
 young lady to whom he was shortly afterwards married : 
 
 * My brother William and I lived in lodgings together. 
 Our room and bed cost three shillings a week. It was 
 
CLOSE OF EDUCATIONAL CAREER. 125 
 
 in the West Port, near Burke's place. I cannot under- 
 stand how I should ever have lived in it. The woman 
 who kept the lodgings was a Peebles woman, who knew 
 and wished to be kind to us. She was, however, of a 
 very narrow disposition, partly the result of poverty. I 
 used to be in great distress for want of fire. I could 
 not afford either that or candle myself. So I have often 
 sat beside her kitchen fire if fire it could be called, 
 which was only a little heap of embers 'reading Horace 
 and conning my dictionary by a light which required me 
 to hold the books almost close to the grate. What a 
 miserable winter that was ! Yet I cannot help feeling 
 proud of my trials at that time. My brother and I 
 he then between fifteen and sixteen, I between thirteen 
 and fourteen had made a resolution together that we 
 would exercise the last degree of self-denial. My brother 
 actually saved money off his income. I remember 
 seeing him take five-and-twenty shillings out of a closed 
 box which he kept to receive his savings ; and that was 
 the spare money of only a twelvemonth. I daresay the 
 Potterrow itself never sheltered two divinity students of 
 such abstinent habits as ours. My father's prospects 
 blackened towards the end of the winter ; and even the 
 small cost of my board and lodging at length became 
 too much for him. I then for some time spent the 
 night at Joppa Pans, and regularly every morning walked, 
 lame as I was, to Edinburgh to attend school. Through 
 all these distresses, I preserved the best of health, 
 though perhaps my long fasts at so critical a period of 
 life repressed my growth. A darker period than even 
 this ensued : my father lost his situation, and I was 
 withdrawn from a course of learning which it was seen I 
 should never be able to complete.' 
 
126 MEMOIR. 
 
 Such is a fair account of the termination of Robert's 
 educational career. Of course there was mourning 
 over the ruin of long-cherished hopes ; and yet the 
 circumstance ought in reality to have been a cause for 
 rejoicing. I greatly doubt if my brother would, accord- 
 ing to ordinary expectations, ever have excelled as a 
 clergyman. He was deficient in oratorical qualities, nor 
 did he possess to a sufficient degree that self-possession 
 which is indispensable to a successful public speaker. 
 Nature had destined him to wield the pen, not to live 
 by exercise of the tongue. In the meanwhile, he was 
 greatly downcast. Returning home, his privations were 
 now greater than my own, for they were aggravated by 
 the spectacle of domestic troubles, from which, except 
 at weekly intervals, I was happily exempt. 
 
 Depressed, and it might be said friendless, with only 
 his Horace and a few other Latin books, over which he 
 would pore lovingly for hours, he was at this painful 
 juncture not unconscious that he should make some 
 sort of effort at self-reliance. He could arrive at no 
 other conviction. In the picturesque language of the 
 Psalmist, his * kinsmen stood afar off,' a circumstance 
 which unhappily roused feelings much more bitter than 
 any experienced in my own less delicately framed mental 
 system. 
 
 For a brief space, he procured a little private teaching 
 at Portobello. Afterwards, a place was procured for him 
 in the counting-house of a merchant, who resided in 
 Pilrig Street, situated between Edinburgh and Leith; 
 but this involved a journey on foot to and fro daily 
 of altogether ten miles, with the poorest possible 
 requital. At the end of six months this employment 
 came to an end, and for a few weeks he filled a similar 
 
A CRITICAL MOMENT IN LIFE. 127 
 
 situation in Mitchell Street, Leith. ' From that place/ 
 he says, in the letter above referred to, * I was discharged, 
 for no other reason that I can think of but that my 
 employer thought me too stupid to be likely ever to do 
 him any good. I was now in the miserable situation of 
 a youth betwixt fifteen and sixteen, who, having passed 
 the proper period without acquiring the groundwork of 
 a profession, is totally hors de combat, and has the 
 prospect of evermore continuing so. I was now, how- 
 ever, at the bottom of the wheel. Now came the time 
 to rise. You have already some notion of my self- 
 denial and fortitude of mind. Now came the time to 
 exert all my faculties.' He then alludes to circum- 
 stances of which I am able to give a more explicit 
 detail. 
 
 At this dismal period, when, as he says, he was ' at 
 the bottom of the wheel,' I saw him only on Sundays, 
 and it was on such occasions alone that we had an 
 opportunity for private consultation. On one of these 
 Sabbath evenings, we sat down together in deep cogita- 
 tion on a grassy knoll overlooking the Firth and the 
 distant shores of Fife. The scene, placid and beautiful, 
 befitting the calm which seemed appropriate to the 
 day of rest, assorted ill with the pressure of those 
 personal necessities that demanded immediate and far 
 from pleasant consideration. Jeremy Taylor has con- 
 solingly remarked, that ' there is no man but hath 
 blessings enough in present possession to outweigh the 
 evils of a great affliction.' It may be so. I have no 
 doubt it is so. How the blessings are to be recog- 
 nised and brought into practical application, is some- 
 times the difficulty. In Robert's case, the blessings 
 might have been stated as consisting of youth, health, 
 
128 MEMOIR. 
 
 a fair education, moral and intellectual culture, and 
 aspirations which embraced an earnest resolution to 
 outweigh by honest industry the misfortunes into which 
 he had been plunged by no fault of his own. Evidently, 
 all depended on his being put on the right path. The 
 great question for solution was what he should do, not 
 only for his own subsistence, but to disembarrass the 
 family, in which he acutely felt himself to be in the light 
 of an encumbrance. 
 
 This was the critical moment that determined my 
 brother's career. I had for some days been pondering 
 on a scheme which might possibly help him out of his 
 difficulties, provided he laid aside all ideas of false shame, 
 and unhesitatingly followed my directions. The project 
 was desperate, but nothing short of desperate measures 
 was available. My suggestion was, that, abandoning 
 all notions of securing employment as a clerk, teacher, 
 or anything else, and stifling every emotion which had 
 hitherto buoyed him up, he should, in the humblest 
 possible style, begin the business of a bookseller. The 
 idea of such an enterprise had passed through his own 
 mind, but had been laid aside as wild and ridiculous, 
 for he possessed neither stock nor capital, nor could he 
 have recourse to any one to lend him assistance. ' I 
 have thought of all that,' I said, ' and will shew you how 
 the thing is to be done.' I now explained that in the 
 family household there were still a number of old books, 
 which had been dragged about from place to place, and 
 were next to useless. The whole, if ranged on a shelf, 
 would occupy about twelve feet, with perhaps a foot 
 additional by including Horace and other school-books. 
 They were certainly not much worth, but, if offered for 
 sale, they might, as I imagined, form the foundation on 
 
ROBERT BEGINS AS A BOOKSELLER. 129 
 
 which a business could be constructed. I added that 
 there was at the time an opening for the sale of cheap 
 pocket Bibles, respecting which I could aid by my 
 knowledge of the trade, and even go the length of 
 starting him with one or two copies out of my slender 
 savings. 
 
 The project being turned over and over and canvassed, 
 proved acceptable. My father, so far from having any 
 objections, assented to the scheme. The old books, 
 Horace and all, were collected and carried off, the only 
 one left being an old tattered black-letter Bible, of the 
 date 1606, that had been in the family for two hundred 
 years, and which, with scribblings on the blank pages, 
 formed a kind of register of births, deaths, and mar- 
 riages during that lengthened period. Too sacred to be 
 ruthlessly made an article of commerce, it was fortu- 
 nately reserved, and in due time became my only 
 patrimony. 
 
 With the few old books so collected, Robert began 
 business in 1818, when only sixteen years of age, from 
 which time he became self-supporting, as I had been 
 several years earlier. I should have hesitated to men- 
 tion these particulars of my brother's early career, but 
 for the fact of his having, in a letter to his friend Hugh 
 Miller, dated March i, 1854, and published in the Life 
 and Letters of that person (1871), given an account, 
 which, as a candid revelation of his own feelings, is fully 
 more painful. 
 
 Writing to Miller, he says : ' Your autobiography has 
 set me a-thinking of my own youthful days, which were 
 like yours in point of hardship and humiliation, though 
 different in many important circumstances. My being 
 of the same age with you, to exactly a quarter of a year, 
 
 I 
 
I 3 o MEMOIR. 
 
 brings the idea of a certain parity more forcibly upon 
 me. The differences are as curious to me as the resem- 
 blances. Notwithstanding your wonderful success as a 
 writer, I think my literary tendency must have been a 
 deeper and more absorbing peculiarity than yours, seeing 
 that I took to Latin and to books both keenly and 
 exclusively, while you broke down in your classical 
 course, and had fully as great a passion for rough sport 
 and enterprise as for reading, that being again a passion 
 of which I never had one particle. This has, however, 
 resulted in making you, what I never was inclined to 
 be, a close observer of external nature an immense 
 advantage in your case. Still I think I could present 
 against your hardy field observations by firth and 
 fell, and cave and cliff, some striking analogies in the 
 finding out and devouring of books, making my way, 
 for instance, through a whole chestful of the Encyclo- 
 pedia Britannica, which I found in a lumber garret. 
 I must also say, that an unfortunate tenderness of feet, 
 scarcely yet got over, had much to do in making me 
 mainly a fireside student. As to domestic connections 
 and conditions, mine being of the middle classes, were 
 superior to yours for the first twelve years. After that, 
 my father being unfortunate in business, we were 
 reduced to poverty, and came down to even humbler 
 things than you experienced. I passed through some 
 years of the direst hardship, not the least evil being a 
 state of feeling quite unnatural in youth a stern and 
 burning defiance of a social world in which we were 
 harshly and coldly treated by former friends, differing 
 only in external respects from ourselves. In your life 
 there is one crisis where I think your experiences must 
 have been somewhat like mine ; it is the brief period at 
 
ODER T BEGINS AS A BOOKSELLER. 1 3 1 
 
 Inverness. Some of your expressions there bring all 
 my own early feelings again to life. A disparity 
 between the internal consciousness of powers and 
 accomplishments and the external ostensible aspect, 
 led in me to the very same wrong methods of setting 
 myself forward as in you. There, of course, I meet 
 you in warm sympathy. I have sometimes thought of 
 describing my bitter painful youth to the world, as 
 something in which it might read a lesson; but the 
 retrospect is still too distressing. I screen it from the 
 mental eye. The one grand fact it has impressed is 
 the very small amount of brotherly assistance there is 
 for the unfortunate in this world. . . . Till I proved 
 that I could help myself, no friend came to me. 
 Uncles, cousins, &c., in good positions in life some of 
 them stoops of kirks, by-the-bye not one offered, or 
 seemed inclined to give, the smallest assistance. The 
 consequent defying, self-relying spirit in which, at 
 sixteen, I set out as a bookseller, with only my own 
 small collection of books as a stock not worth more 
 than two pounds, I believe led to my being quickly 
 independent of all aid ; but it has not been all a gain, 
 for I am now sensible that my spirit of self-reliance 
 too often manifested itself in an unsocial, unamiable 
 light, while my recollections of " honest poverty " may 
 have made me too eager to attain and secure worldly 
 prosperity.' 
 
 The place at which Robert attempted the adventurous 
 project of selling the wreck of the family library, along 
 with his own small parcel of school-books, was Leith 
 Walk, where a shop of a particularly humble kind, at a 
 yearly rent of six pounds, with space for a stall in front, 
 was procured for the purpose. " The situation of this 
 
132 MEMOIR. 
 
 unpretending place of business was opposite Pilrig 
 avenue. Here he may be said to have set up house, 
 for, provided with a few articles of furniture, and 
 exercising a rigorous frugality, he lived in his very 
 limited establishment. To keep him company, and 
 aid by my professional advice, as well as to lessen his 
 expenses, I went to reside with him quitting, with my 
 blue-painted box, my quarters in the West Port, to 
 which I had no reason to feel special attachment. The 
 time was near at hand when I should myself have to 
 appear in a new character. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MY OWN COMMENCEMENT IN BUSINESS 1819 TO l82T. 
 
 T ATE on a Saturday evening in May 1819, my 
 ^-^ apprenticeship came to a close, and I walked 
 away with five shillings in my pocket to which sum 
 my weekly wages had been latterly and considerately 
 advanced. My employer, to do him every justice, 
 offered to retain me as assistant at a reasonable salary; 
 but I liked as little to remain as to try my luck else- 
 where as a subordinate. Whether influenced by my 
 father's harangues about independence, or by my own 
 natural instincts, I had formed the resolution to be my 
 own master, and concluded that the sooner I was so the 
 better. And so, at nineteen years of age, I was left to 
 my shifts. 
 
 The exploit was somewhat hazardous, and unless on 
 special grounds, I would not recommend it to be 
 followed. Society is composed of employers and 
 employed. All cannot be masters. The employed may 
 happen to be the best off of the two ; at all events, they 
 are burdened with less responsibility. My resolution, 
 therefore, to fight my way, inch by inch, entirely on my 
 own account, was, I acknowledge, an eccentricity. Yet, 
 who can lay down any precise rule on this point? 
 
*34 MEMOIR. 
 
 Looking at all available circumstances, every one must 
 think for himself, and take the consequences. In the 
 ordinary view of affairs, my prospects were not particu- 
 larly cheering. Exclusive of the five shillings in my 
 pocket, I was without any pecuniary reliance whatsoever. 
 There were, however, some things in my favour. As in 
 my brother's case, I had youth, health, hope, resolution, 
 and was as free from expensive habits and tastes as 
 from any species of embarrassing obligation. There 
 was nothing to keep me back, unless it might be the 
 comparatively narrow scope for individual exertion in 
 our northern capital. At that time, however, I knew 
 nothing personally of London and its illimitable field of 
 operation. The best had to be made of what was 
 within reach. Fortunately, I continued still to have 
 no acquaintances whom it was necessary to consult 
 had no giddy companions, who would have been ready 
 enough to jeer me out of schemes of humble self- 
 reliance. I had no dread of losing caste, because I had 
 no artificial position to lose; and as for losing self- 
 respect, that entirely depends on conduct and the 
 motives by which it is influenced. It will be seen that 
 I was not without the kind of ambition which is indis- 
 pensable to success. On that very account, I treated all 
 immediate difficulties, or humiliations, as of no moment. 
 Circumstances concurred to get me over the first step, 
 which is always the most difficult. The success of my 
 brother in his enterprise pointed out a line of business 
 that might with advantage be followed. As Leith Walk 
 happens to be identified in an amusing way with his as 
 well as my own early career, I may say a few words 
 respecting it, although at the risk of telling what may be 
 generally known. 
 
LEITH WALK. 135 
 
 Leith Walk may be described as a broad kind of 
 Boulevard, stretching nearly a mile in length between 
 Edinburgh and the seaport, and as being constantly used 
 as a thoroughfare by merchants, clerks, strangers, and sea- 
 faring people. In the early years of the present century, 
 it was the daily resort of a multiplicity of odd-looking 
 dependents on public charity such as old blind fiddlers, 
 seated by the wayside ; sailors deficient in a leg or an 
 arm, with long queues hanging down their backs, who 
 were always singing ballads about sea-fights ; and cripples 
 of various sorts, who contrived to move along in wooden 
 bowls, or in low-wheeled vehicles drawn by dogs all 
 which personages reckoned on reaping a harvest of 
 coppers in the week of Leith races that great annual 
 festival of the gamins of Edinburgh, which has been 
 commemorated in the humorous verses of Robert 
 Fergusson. Besides its hosts of mendicants, the Walk 
 was garnished with small shops for the sale of shells, 
 corals, and other foreign curiosities. It was also pro- 
 vided with a number of petty public-houses ; but its 
 greatest attraction was a show of wax-work, at the 
 entrance of which sat the figure of an old gentleman 
 in a court-dress, intently reading a newspaper, which, 
 without turning over the leaves, had occupied him for 
 the last ten years. 
 
 The oddest thing about the Walk, however, was an 
 air of pretension singularly inconsistent with the reality. 
 The signboards offered a study of the definite article 
 The Comb Manufactory, The Chair Manufactory, The 
 Marble Work, and so forth, appearing on the fronts of 
 buildings of the most trumpery character. At the time 
 I became acquainted with the Walk, it owned few 
 edifices that were much worth. Here and there, with 
 
136 MEMOIR. 
 
 intervening patches of nursery-grounds and gardens, 
 there was a detached villa or a row of houses with 
 flower-plots in front; in one of which rows, called 
 Springfield, in the house of his friend Mr M'Culloch of 
 Ardwell, the English humorist, Samuel Foote, used to 
 dine on his visits to Edinburgh.* But the majority of 
 the buildings were of a slight fabric of brick and plaster, 
 with tiled roofs, as if the whole were removable at a 
 day's notice. There being no edifices, however mean 
 and inconvenient, which do not find inhabitants, these 
 frail tenements were in demand by a needy order of 
 occupants, whose ultimate limit in the article of rent 
 was ten to twelve pounds a year fifteen a little beyond 
 the thing twenty not to be thought of. 
 
 It was one of these temporary and unattractive build- 
 ings, situated, as has been said, opposite Pilrig Avenue, 
 that had been rented by my brother, and it was there I 
 joined him in housekeeping, with nothing to keep but 
 the disconsolate walls and about ten shillings worth 
 of furniture, along with a bed of very insignificant 
 value. In 1819, Robert had to quit, in consequence of 
 the proprietor making repairs on the row of buildings, 
 and he removed about a hundred yards farther down 
 the Walk. The alterations on Giles's Buildings, as they 
 were called, had just been made when I stood in need 
 
 * The intimacy of Foote and a land-proprietor in the stewartry 
 of Kirkcudbright will seem a little unaccountable. The friendship 
 accidentally began by both being detained as travellers during a 
 protracted snow-storm, first in an inn at Moffat, and afterwards at 
 the Crook, in the winter of 1744-5. They were detained no less 
 than twenty days altogether in effecting a journey from Moffat to 
 Edinburgh, which may now be performed in about two hours. A 
 daughter of M'Culloch was married to Thomas Scott, brother of 
 Sir Walter. 
 
BEGINNING BUSINESS. 137 
 
 of a place of business, and I rented one pretty nearly 
 on the spot which my brother had vacated. The 
 changes that had been made partook of the usual char- 
 acter of the neighbourhood shabby pretension. The 
 proprietor, a builder in Edinburgh, had accumulated a 
 number of old shop doors and windows, which, dismissed 
 as unfashionable, gave a genteel finish to the new fronts 
 that were stuck up along the row of mean brick edifices. 
 Here I procured a place of moderate dimensions, for 
 which I was to pay an annual rent of ten pounds. 
 
 Without stock, capital, or shop furniture, my attempt 
 at beginning business would almost seem like trying to 
 make something out of nothing. I admit, the problem 
 was difficult of solution. In one respect, it was fortu- 
 nate in the way of example that Robert had begun first, 
 but in another it was a disadvantage. In setting up, 
 he had cleared my father's house of all its old books, 
 which, though not many in number, or of great value, 
 still bore bulk so far, and, giving a face to things, served 
 for a not positively bad beginning. Coming later into 
 the field, nothing was left for me to lay hands on in the 
 like predatory fashion. I should doubtless, as a last 
 resource, have procured a portion of Robert's stock of 
 books, which, in the course of a year, had increased by 
 his industry to be worth about twelve pounds, but, by a 
 remarkably happy turn of events, I did not need to 
 encroach on his painfully accumulated property. 
 
 During the first week of my freedom, there arrived 
 in Edinburgh a travelling agent for an enterprising 
 publisher in London. He had come to exhibit to the 
 Scottish booksellers specimens of cheap editions of 
 standard and popular works. Until within a short time 
 previously, editions of the works of Johnson, Gibbon, 
 
138 MEMOIR. 
 
 Robertson, Blair, Hume and Smollett, Burns, and other 
 standard writers, had been a monopoly of certain pub- 
 lishers, who united to publish them, and gave them the 
 imposing name of ' Trade Editions.' Long out of copy- 
 right, these works were public property, and could legally 
 be printed and issued by any one, but not until now 
 had any one had the audacity and enterprise to disregard 
 the assumed etiquette of the profession, and print and 
 sell editions on his own account. In daring to break 
 down this monopoly, the publisher I refer to encountered 
 some abuse, which, however, did not deter him in his 
 operations. His editions, as a rule, were not so highly 
 finished as those issued under the auspices of the trade ; 
 but as they were sold at about half the price, they were 
 correspondingly appreciated by that portion of the book- 
 buying world who are not scrupulously nice as to 
 typographical elegance. 
 
 This active personage well known in Cheapside 
 had another and quite as successful a branch of business. 
 It consisted in purchasing, wholesale, the remainders of 
 editions which hung on the hands of publishers, and of 
 issuing copies at a cheap price under new attractions, 
 such as a portrait frontispiece and a flashy exterior, by 
 which means two important ends were served the 
 shelves of the publishers were relieved of much dead 
 stock, and the public were satisfied. 
 
 It was the agent of this enterprising tradesman who, 
 by a singular accident, fell in my way. In concluding 
 his business tour, he had arrived in Edinburgh to hold 
 a trade-sale previous to proceeding to London. A 
 trade-sale, as it may be known, comprehends a dinner 
 at some noted tavern. A large number of booksellers 
 are invited to attend, and immediately after the cloth 
 
A TRADE-SALE. 139 
 
 is withdrawn, and the wine decanters put in circula- 
 tion, the sale begins. All the guests are provided with 
 catalogues of the books for disposal, and as each work 
 is offered in turn at a specified price, copies are handed 
 about as specimens. The inducement to make pur- 
 chases is a certain reduction on the ordinary allowance, 
 and, in addition, thirteen copies are usually given 
 for the price of twelve. At the period to which I am 
 referring, trade-sales of this festive description were 
 more common than they are in these sober-minded days, 
 and at them such large quantities of books were ordin- 
 arily disposed of, that the seller, who acted as host, and 
 sat at the top of the table, did not find occasion to 
 grudge the expense of the entertainment. The business 
 was conducted with a blending of fun and conviviality. 
 There was occasionally a toast, with the honours, as an 
 interlude, and it was not unusual for one or two of the 
 guests to be called on for a sdng. 
 
 The sale on the present occasion took place in the 
 Lord Nelson Hotel, Adam Square. The agent in 
 charge requiring some one acquainted with the handling 
 and arranging of books, previous to the dinner, heard of 
 me from a bookseller as being unemployed and likely 
 to suit his purpose. I agreed to assist him as far as was 
 in my power, and did so without any notion of requital. 
 
 The trade-sale was well attended, and went off with 
 uncommon 'eclat. Mr Robert Miller, of Manners and 
 Miller, told his drollest anecdotes, whistled tunes with 
 the delicacy of a flageolet, and sung his best songs as 
 few men can sing them. There was a large sale effected ; 
 for it was the first time that a variety of standard works 
 had been offered at considerably reduced prices. On 
 the day succeeding this bibliopolic festival, I attended 
 
HO MEMOIR. 
 
 to assist in packing up, in the course of which I was 
 questioned regarding my plans. I stated to the friendly 
 inquirer that I was about to begin business, but that I 
 had no money ; if I had, I should take the opportunity 
 of buying a few of his specimens, for I thought I could 
 sell them to advantage. ' Well,' he replied, ' I like that 
 frankness; you seem an honest lad, and have been 
 useful to me ; so do not let the want of money trouble 
 you : select, if you please, ten pounds worth of my 
 samples, and I will let you have the usual credit.' 
 
 That was a turning-point in my life. In a strange 
 and unforeseen manner, I was to be put in possession 
 of a small collection of saleable books, sufficient to 
 establish me in business. Gladly embracing the offer, 
 I selected a parcel of books great and small, to the 
 value of ten pounds, which I proceeded to pack into 
 an empty tea-chest, and carry off without incurring the 
 aid or expense of a porter. Borrowing the hotel truck, 
 I wheeled the chest to my shop in Leith Walk ; elated, 
 it may be supposed, in no ordinary degree at this 
 fortunate incident, and not the least afraid of turning the 
 penny long before the day of payment came round. 
 
 Though furnished in this extraordinary manner with 
 a stock, I was still unprovided with any kind of fixtures, 
 such as counter or shelving. But this deficiency gave 
 me little concern. It was not my design to sell books 
 inside a shop. That, I knew, would never do. My 
 plan, like that of my brother, and also many illustrious 
 predecessors, was to expose my wares on a stall outside 
 the door. . I had years previously read the Autobiog- 
 raphy of James Lackington, who mentions that he 
 began business as a bookseller in 1774, the whole of his 
 stock of old books, laid out on a stall, not amounting to 
 
STALL PUT OUT. 141 
 
 five pounds in value; that in 1792, when he retired into 
 private life, the profits of his business amounted to 
 ,5000 a year; and that he had realised all he was 
 possessed of, by ' small profits, bound by industry, and 
 clasped by economy? I could not possibly expect to 
 reach anything like this marvellous success of Lacking- 
 ton, but at anyrate there was an example offered in his 
 small beginning, which it was my resolution to follow. 
 
 I spent little time in preliminary arrangements. With 
 the five shillings which I had received as my last week's 
 wages, I purchased a few deals from a neighbouring 
 wood-yard, and from these, with a saw, hammer, and 
 nails, I soon constructed all the shop furniture which I 
 required; the most essential articles being a pair of 
 stout trestles, on which was laid a board, whereupon to 
 exhibit my wares to the public. 
 
 There is an old saying that ' we should not leave till 
 to-morrow what can be done to day.' On this maxim, 
 I made the improvement of 'not leaving till the next 
 five minutes what can be done in the present,' and so 
 hastened to get to work with as little delay as the cir- 
 cumstances permitted. Having at length prepared every- 
 thing to my mind, I was able one day, at the beginning 
 of June, when the weather was good, to commence my 
 small business. Picture me, on a fine sunny morning, 
 planting a pair of trestles on the broad side way in front 
 of my little shop, then laying on them a board ; and last 
 of all carrying out my stock of books and arranging 
 them in three rows the smaller volumes in front, and 
 the larger ones behind, with pamphlets embellished with 
 plates stuck alluringly between. The whole, I fancied, 
 made a respectable appearance, with a certain air of 
 originality. Hitherto, the book-stalls about Edinburgh 
 
142 MEMOIR. 
 
 had exhibited little else than old books, mostly purchased 
 at the nightly auctions. The best of the stalls was one 
 set up in the Grassmarket on Wednesdays for the 
 market-people, and there were likewise some attractive 
 establishments of this kind near the College and High 
 School, with which. I had early become acquainted. 
 But, on the whole, including those on the Walk, the 
 staple commodities were books bound in leather, which 
 had suffered more or less from years of rough usage. 
 Whereas, all my books being new, and done up in 
 boards with white back-titles, as was then the prevailing 
 fashion, their appearance was suggestive of tempting 
 bargains. 
 
 Like an angler who eagerly watches his bait, I am to 
 be supposed as waiting patiently at my door ready to 
 be spoken to by intending purchasers not obtrusively 
 so, for fear of scaring away the timid ; just hanging about 
 in an easy indifferent sort of way, within hail; but 
 nervously anxious when a passenger, after glancing 
 cogitatingly over my wares, took heart to ask the price 
 of any book that happened to strike his fancy. I enter- 
 tain a pleasant recollection of my first business trans- 
 action. It was the sale of a copy of Robertson's 
 History of Charles V., in five volumes duodecimo, a 
 rather neat but not fine edition of the work. At night, 
 I carried it home to the purchaser. My other sales 
 during the day were of less moment. They consisted 
 of a copy of Hervey's Meditations and a sixpenny song- 
 book. Altogether, I cleared a profit of nine shillings 
 and threepence the first day, which put me in high 
 spirits, notwithstanding some exhaustion of stomach; 
 for I had been too anxious to think about any regular 
 dinner, and contented myself with a little bread and 
 
A SPECULA TION IN PL UTES. 1 43 
 
 milk. In this self-sacrificing assiduity, however, I claim 
 no special merit. It is what every youth who has to win 
 his way can do if he likes. 
 
 Daily, the contents of the stall disappeared, and I was 
 able to introduce variety by buying parcels of books at 
 Carfrae's, which I regularly attended with my brother. 
 At this evening auction, I speedily became known to 
 the fraternity of stall-keepers, and was graciously acknow- 
 ledged by them as one of ' the trade,' in which Robert 
 was already a recognised member. As regards the 
 account I had incurred, I discharged it when it became 
 due, and continued for some time to order and pay for 
 regular supplies. I added the sale of stationery to my 
 business, but the population around was limited, and 
 that came to little. I felt some pleasure in keeping up 
 a correspondence with the travelling agent through 
 whose considerate kindness I had been enabled to make 
 a commencement. Presuming on this intimacy, I 
 requested him to purchase for me three pounds' worth 
 of a cheap kind of flutes, which were sometimes inquired 
 for by seafaring men. The flutes, which were procured 
 from a maker of musical instruments in London, in 
 due time arrived, and the sale of them helped me a 
 little onward. Within six months, the most critical 
 part of my struggle was over. In a small but encourag- 
 ing way, I may be considered as having been fairly 
 established. 
 
 By studying to sell cheaply, my profits in the aggregate 
 were not great ; but along with Robert, I lived frugally. 
 Our united daily expenses in housekeeping did not exceed 
 a shilling. For years after beginning business, the cost of 
 my own living was limited to sixpence a day, and all that 
 was over I laid out in adding to my stock. As my sales 
 
144 MEMOIR. 
 
 were to a large extent new books in boards, I felt that 
 the charge made for the boarding of them was an item 
 that pressed rather heavily upon me. Why, thought I, 
 should I not buy the books in sheets, and put them in 
 boards myself? It is true, I had not been taught the 
 art of bookbinding, but I had seen it executed in my 
 frequent visits to a bookbinder's workshop, and was 
 confident that if I had the proper apparatus I could at 
 least put books in boards; for that was but a rudi- 
 mentary department of the craft. The articles available 
 for the purpose at length fell in my way. After this, I 
 procured my books in sheets, which I forthwith folded, 
 sewed, and otherwise prepared to my satisfaction, 
 thereby saving on an average threepence to fourpence a 
 volume, my only outlay being on the material employed ; 
 for my labour was reckoned as nothing. 
 
 In this droll scheming way, I tried to make the best 
 of my lot. The condition of the weather was an 
 important element of consideration. In fine days, the 
 Walk was thronged with foot-passengers, a number of 
 whom found some recreation in lounging for a few 
 minutes over my stall. If there was a prospect of rain, 
 they hurried on ; and when it became determinedly wet, 
 business was over for the day. I might as well bring in 
 my books at once, and try to find something to do 
 indoors. When the stall was not in operation, sales 
 were almost at a stand-still. Hundreds, I found, as 
 Lackington had done before me, would buy books from 
 a stall, who would not purchase them equally cheap in 
 a shop. The advantageous peculiarity of the stall is, 
 that it secures those who have formed no deliberate 
 intention to buy. Lying invitingly with their backs 
 upward, the books on a stall solicit just as much 
 
BOOK-STALLS. 145 
 
 attention as you are pleased to give them. You may 
 look at them, or let them alone. You may, as if by 
 chance, take up and set down volume after volume 
 without getting compromised. The bookseller, however, 
 is perfectly aware of what is likely to ensue. When he 
 observes that the lounger over his stall is not satisfied 
 with a casual glance, but goes on examining book after 
 book, he is pretty certain there is to be a purchase. 
 Continued inspection excites an interest in the mind. 
 There is perhaps no intention at first to buy, but 
 gradually the feelings are warmed up, and it is then 
 scarcely possible to resist asking the price of some book 
 which more particularly strikes the fancy. Asking the 
 price is equivalent to passing the Rubicon. After that, 
 the desire for purchasing becomes nearly irresistible. 
 Going into shops to buy books in cold blood is quite a 
 different thing. Before entering, there must in general 
 be a distinct intention to purchase. 
 
 Stall-keepers of all varieties know the value of the 
 obtrusive principle; and it may be doubted if the 
 modern shop system is in most cases an improvement 
 on the old practice of exposing wares in open booths 
 along the sides of the thoroughfare. The original 
 Stationarii, who exposed their books at the gateways 
 of universities, immediately after the invention of 
 printing what were they but stall-keepers? Did not 
 also many booksellers of good repute last century set 
 up stalls for the sale of their wares on market-days? 
 One does not read without interest the anecdote of 
 Michael Johnson, bookseller at Lichfield, who, being 
 unable from illness to set up his stall as usual at 
 Uttoxeter, requested his son Samuel to do so in his 
 stead, which request was refused, from a feeling of false 
 
 J 
 
146 MEMOIR. 
 
 pride; and how this act of filial disobedience, having 
 preyed in after-life on the morbidly susceptible mind 
 of the great lexicographer, he, by way of expiation, went 
 to Uttoxeter on a market-day, and stood in a drenching 
 rain on the site of his father's stall, amidst the jeering 
 remarks of the bystanders. There is something, there- 
 fore, like a classic authority for book-stalls. They remind 
 us of the infancy of printed literature and the usages of 
 an olden time. 
 
 The Walk offered uncommon facilities for the traffic 
 in which I was engaged. Long stretches of the foot- 
 way from thirty to forty feet wide, admitted of stalls 
 being set outside the doors without obstructing the 
 thoroughfare. Some might think that they were an 
 attraction to what was otherwise a pleasant promenade. 
 The book-stalls were four in number those belonging 
 to my brother and myself, and two others. They were 
 all situated on the shady side of the road, forming at 
 proper distances from each other a series of literary 
 lures, likely to be visited en suite. Interesting from the 
 diversity of their wares, they to a certain extent were 
 mutually helpful. There was nothing like a feeling of 
 rivalry among us. Accustomed to discuss professional 
 matters, we were able to cultivate a few jocularities as 
 a seasoning to a too frequent dullness. We learned 
 how to distinguish habitual nibblers, who never bought, 
 but only gave trouble, from those on whom we could 
 reasonably reckon for a purchase, and knew how to act 
 accordingly. The stall offered a study of character. 
 There was not a little perversity or stupidity to be 
 amused with. Some stall frequenters would buy 
 nothing but books which had been used. Defective in 
 judgment, they could not imagine the possibility of 
 
CALIGRAPHY. 147 
 
 getting a new book as cheaply as an old one. The 
 stall-keepers on the Walk found it necessary to humour 
 purchasers of this sort. It was not difficult to do so ; 
 they had only to cut up the leaves, and soil the outside 
 of a book, in order to make it thoroughly acceptable. 
 
 With all the diligence that could be exercised, there 
 was little scope for expansion in my small trade. With 
 every effort, time hung heavy on my hands. I fretted 
 at inaction. To relieve the monotony of the long dull 
 hours during bad weather, I took to copying poems and 
 various prose trifles in a fine species of penmanship, in 
 the hope of selling them for albums. It was assuredly 
 a weak resource, but what could I do ? If I spent days 
 over the manufacture of a few verses, which sold for 
 only a single shilling it was employment better than 
 sitting vaguely idle. 
 
 The notion of attempting to write in a style closely 
 resembling the delicate print-like lettering on copper- 
 plate engravings, occurred to me two or three years 
 previously. A retired naval officer in poor circum- 
 stances had written an account of his captivity in 
 France during the war, and raffled it for five pounds. 
 The penmanship was exceedingly elegant, and I felt 
 desirous to attempt something that might prove equally 
 tasteful. From time to time, I made attempts at 
 imitation, but never came up to the original. I had, 
 however, acquired a facility in the art. The work was 
 executed with a finely pointed crow-pen on smooth 
 paper, ruled with lines for the purpose, and cost pro- 
 digious care and patience, because any blunder would 
 have been fatal. Occupying any spare hours when the 
 stall could not be put out, and poring over a desk, I 
 was able to realise a few shillings by these laborious 
 
148 MEMOIR. 
 
 transcriptions. What was of much greater value, these 
 little pieces of penmanship helped to bring me more 
 into notice, and to procure me the friendship of some 
 estimable persons. 
 
 A gentleman who happened to see one of my speci- 
 mens of caligraphy, was pleased to think better of it 
 than it deserved, and without solicitation patronised my 
 humble business establishment. He was about to be 
 married, and wished to procure a quantity of books 
 of a superior kind in the finest bindings for his library. 
 One day, he called to inquire as to the practicability 
 of my supplying his wants. Satisfied with the informa- 
 tion, he gave an order of such magnitude as astonished 
 me, and raised serious doubts as to how, with my 
 miserable resources, it was to be executed. Appre- 
 hending some difficulty on this score, he relieved all 
 anxieties by stating that I should bring the books in 
 parcels from time to time, and that each parcel would 
 be paid for on delivery. 
 
 This fortunate transaction gave me a lift onward, and 
 stimulated to new efforts. The fact that I had un- 
 expectedly benefited in a large degree by a gentleman 
 seeing one of my small pieces of penmanship, suggests 
 the reflection, that in business, as in human affairs 
 generally, incidents which are seemingly insignificant 
 often lead to important results. Young men are apt 
 to treat what appears a small matter with indifference, 
 if not disdain, without being conscious that in commerce 
 nothing is small or to be passed over as of no moment. 
 I once heard a merchant who had risen to great wealth 
 say, that civility in serving a woman in humble cir- 
 cumstances with a pennyworth of tape, had led, by a 
 remarkable chain of circumstances, to dealings to the 
 
MINOR POETS. 149 
 
 extent of hundreds of pounds. In my own case, as 
 just stated, a small piece of transcription with a crow- 
 pen had, by an unforeseen current of events, terminated 
 in a manner much more advantageous than I had any 
 reason to expect 
 
 The progress I had made during the first year rendered 
 it expedient to procure an enlargement of my premises. 
 This being effected, I was able to appropriate a small 
 back-room as a dwelling, so as to be near my work 
 the furniture as meagre as might be, for I could not 
 indulge in the luxury of a carpet, and was fain to 
 enclose my bed with a drapery of brown paper in place 
 of curtains. I was also enabled in various ways to 
 extend my business operations, and accommodate those 
 who did me the honour to call. Among these visitors 
 were several literary aspirants who hung about the out- 
 skirts of society. Few are aware of the great number 
 of poets in Scotland. Those whos'e names become 
 generally known are insignificant in number to the host 
 who are never heard of beyond the limited locality in 
 which they move. My brother's and my own literary 
 tastes, to say nothing of our connection with books, 
 made us acquainted with several poets of this order. 
 Among these, the oddest was an aged shoemaker, who, 
 deserting his last, had taken to the writing of poems and 
 dramas. His standard production was The Battle of 
 Luncarty, which his admirers thought ' almost ' as good 
 as Shakspeare. William Knox, the author of The Lonely 
 Hearth and other Poems, was a gentle enthusiast of a 
 different stamp, but succumbed at an early age to what 
 were mildly termed his ' genial propensities.' 
 
 We were more happy in knowing intimately Robert 
 Gilfillan, still a young man, writer of some pleasing and 
 
150 MEMOIR. 
 
 popular Scottish songs, who had been bred in Leith as 
 an apprentice to a grocer, and had therefore undergone 
 that routine of duties which I had narrowly escaped. 
 He was a person of amiable temperament, simple in his 
 habits, with whom it was a pleasure to interchange 
 courtesies. I may say the same of Henry Scott Riddell, 
 who was numbered among our early friends, and has 
 left some singularly touching lyrics and other pieces. 
 
 There was still another of these geniuses, John C. 
 Denovan, an excitable being, who lived in a world of 
 romance strangely at variance with his actual circum- 
 stances. I first knew Denovan when he was a porter to 
 a tea-dealer at the foot of Leith Street Terrace, directly 
 opposite the spot where I had been an apprentice. He 
 was the child of misfortune. His father had procured 
 for him the position of midshipman, in which capacity 
 he made a single voyage and acquired notions of life at 
 sea. Then he was somehow deserted, and left to his 
 shifts with his mother, a poor abject being, to whom he 
 stuck to the last. In his reduced condition, he acquitted 
 himself honestly, but his wayward fancies did not square 
 with the difficulties with which he had to struggle. He 
 was always overflowing with allusions to Wordsworth, 
 Byron, Keats, and Leigh Hunt. A little crazy on 
 poetical subjects, he, by an easy transition, became half 
 mad on politics, and edited a weekly periodical called 
 The Patriot, which was desperately Radical in character. 
 One of its leading articles, I remember, began with the 
 portentous words : ' Day follows day, and chain follows 
 chain.' Yet Denovan was a harmless creature. His 
 poetical pieces were noticed with some approbation by 
 Sir Walter Scott, who, while visiting Ballantyne's printing- 
 office at Paul's Work, now and then, in a kindly way, 
 
PRINTING APPARA TUS A CQ UIRED. 1 5 1 
 
 looked in upon him at his den in Leith Wynd, where 
 he latterly made a livelihood by coffee-roasting, and 
 where he died in 1827. There was a little exhilaration 
 in having an occasional conversation on literary topics 
 with these writers. To a higher region we did not yet 
 aspire. 
 
 I still at odd times continued my labours with the 
 crow-pen, but at best this was a trivial art, and I had 
 secret yearnings to procure a press and types, in order 
 to unite printing with my other branches of business. I 
 partly formed this desire by having employed a printer 
 to execute a small volume, purporting to be an account 
 of David Ritchie, the original of the Black Dwarf, whom 
 I had seen when a boy in Peeblesshire. The success of 
 this enterprise, commercially, led to the conclusion that 
 if I could print as well as write my poor productions, I 
 might add to my available means. It would be enough 
 if I could procure an apparatus sufficient for executing 
 small pamphlets, and the humbler varieties of job- 
 printing. 
 
 For some time my inquiries failed to discover what 
 would be within the compass of my means, until at 
 length a person who had begun business in a way not 
 unlike my own, and constructed a press for his own use, 
 intimated his desire of selling off, in order to remove to 
 a distant part of the country. The whole apparatus, 
 including some types, was to be disposed of cheaply 
 by private bargain. The price sought could not be 
 considered excessive. It was only three pounds. To 
 set up as a printer on a less capital than this was surely 
 impossible. I paid the money, and became the happy 
 possessor. From that time, I troubled myself no more 
 with imitative print-writing. That branch of art was 
 
152 MEMOIR. 
 
 taken up and followed for a time by my brother, who so 
 greatly excelled in it as to leave my efforts far behind. 
 
 I hesitate to think that I acted properly in directing 
 my mind towards letterpress printing, while deficient in 
 capital to pursue the profession with any solid advantage. 
 My best excuse was the wish to occupy idle time. In 
 the mornings when the sun was up, I endeavoured to 
 make use of the daylight by reading and study, as I 
 had done formerly. Perusing the Spectator, I carefully 
 scrutinised the papers of Addison and other writers, 
 sentence by sentence, in order to familiarise myself 
 with their method of construction and treatment. But 
 beyond this I had little patience. I felt that the time 
 had come for action, and that every hour spent in doing 
 nothing was so much time wasted. Yet, with every 
 excuse, I have never ceased to be amazed at my pre- 
 sumption in trying, without any knowledge of the 
 typographic art, to set up with such miserable mechan- 
 ical appliances. Nothing more primitive had been 
 attempted since Guttenberg made his rudimentary efforts 
 in the art of printing. 
 
 At the risk of being tiresome, let me endeavour to 
 give an idea of this wonderful apparatus. The press, 
 which was constructed to stand on a table, consisted 
 of a wooden sole, with a carriage, on which the form 
 of types was to be laid ; and this carriage, or movable 
 part, required to be pushed forward and drawn out as 
 you would push and draw out a drawer. The power 
 consisted of an iron screw hung on a cross beam, sus- 
 tained by two upright supports. The handle was 
 attached to the upper and projecting end of the screw, 
 and had to be turned about twice with a smart jerk 
 before the pressure could be effected. The working 
 
MY PRESS AND TYPES. 153 
 
 of the machine was slow and imperfect. Owing to the 
 unsteadiness of the structure, the impression was far 
 from perfect. The extent of the pressing surface was 
 eighteen inches by twelve, equal to four octavo pages. 
 When the screw was brought to the pull, a jangling and 
 creaking noise was produced, like a shriek of anguish, 
 that might have been heard two houses off. The 
 impression being so effected, the screw had to be 
 whisked back to a state of repose. I had no table on 
 which to fix this frail machine, and placed it on a stout 
 wooden chest turned on its side, which in former and 
 more prosperous days had been used in my father's 
 house as a ' meal-ark.' 
 
 As regards my fount of types, it consisted of about 
 thirty pounds-weight of brevier, dreadfully old and worn, 
 having been employed for years in the printing of a 
 newspaper, and, in point of fact, only worth its value as 
 metal. Along with the fount, I had a pair of cases, in 
 which the letters were assorted. My bargain did not 
 embrace a frame or stand for the cases. That I supplied 
 by the ordinary resource of wood bought from a timber- 
 yard, and the application of my carpenter's tools. For 
 a small additional outlay, I procured a brass composing- 
 stick, some quoins and other pieces of furniture, an iron 
 chess, and a roller, along with a pound-weight of 
 printing-ink. I was now complete. 
 
 As soon as I had arranged all parts of my apparatus, 
 I looked abroad over the field of literature to see which 
 work should first engage my attention. My best plan, 
 as I thought, would be to begin by printing a small 
 volume on speculation; sell the copies, and with the 
 proceeds buy a variety of types for executing casual jobs 
 which might drop in. A small volume I must print, 
 
154 MEMOIR. 
 
 and finish in a marketable style, that is clear, in order 
 to raise funds. Fixed in this notion, I selected for my 
 first venture a pocket edition of the songs of Robert 
 Burns. This speculation was suggested by the fact that 
 a small-sized edition of these popular songs, executed 
 by an Edinburgh printer, had sold remarkably well on 
 the stalls, -and had already become scarce. There was 
 room, I thought, for a little book of the kind. I 
 accordingly commenced to set up a volume of a similar 
 size ; going to work on the songs of our national bard 
 with all the enthusiasm which these beautiful lyrics are 
 calculated to inspire the very pleasure I experienced 
 in setting up song after song being a little detrimental, for 
 I hung delightedly over the verses, and could not help 
 singing them as I went on with the manual operations. 
 
 I had never been taught the art of the compositor; 
 but just as I had casually gleaned some knowledge of 
 bookbinding, so I had picked up the method of setting 
 types. When an apprentice, I had been frequently 
 sent errands to the printing-office of Mr Ruthven, in 
 Merchant's Court; the premises which, two centuries 
 previously, had formed the town mansion of Thomas 
 Hamilton, first Earl of Haddington, jocosely styled by 
 James VI. ' Tarn o' the Cowgate.' In the fine old dining- 
 hall where ' Tarn ' had entertained royalty, I was, while 
 waiting for proofs, favoured with an opportunity of 
 seeing the compositors pursue their ingenious art, and 
 learning how types were arranged in lines and pages. 
 Recollections of what I had thus seen of compositor- 
 ship were now revived, and I began to set up my song- 
 book without receiving any special instruction ; my 
 composing-frame being placed in such a situation that I 
 was ready to attend to other matters of business. While 
 
PROGRESS IN COMPOS1TORSHIP. 155 
 
 so occupied, I was visited by my old friend James King, 
 whom I had for some time lost sight of. His taste for 
 chemistry had brought him into the employment of a 
 glass-manufacturer; and now, in connection with that 
 line of business, he was about to sail for Australia, 
 where a useful career was bejbre him. He was amused 
 with, and, I think, compassionated, my feeble efforts. 
 We parted not to meet until both were in different 
 circumstances, many years afterwards. 
 
 My progress in compositorship was at first slow. I 
 had to feel my way. A defective adjustment of the 
 lines to a uniform degree of tightness was my greatest 
 trouble, but this was got over. The art of working my 
 press had next to be acquired, and in this there was no 
 difficulty. After an interval of fifty years, I recollect 
 the delight I experienced in working off my first impres- 
 sion ; the pleasure since of seeing hundreds of thousands 
 of sheets pouring from machines in which I claim an 
 interest being nothing to it ! If the young and thought- 
 less could only be made to know this the happiness, 
 the dignity of honest labour conducted in a spirit of 
 self-reliance the insignificance and probably temporary 
 character of untoward circumstances while there is 
 youth, along with a willing heart the proud satisfaction 
 of acquiring by persevering industry instead of by com- 
 passionate donation how differently would they act ! 
 
 I think there was a degree of infatuation in my 
 attachment to that jangling, creaking, wheezing little 
 press. Placed at the only window in my apartment, 
 within a few feet of my bed, I could see its outlines in 
 the silvery moonlight when I awoke ; and there, at the 
 glowing dawn did its figure assume distinct proportions. 
 When daylight came fully in, it was impossible to resist 
 
156 MEMOIR. 
 
 the desire to rise and have an hour or two of exercise 
 at the little machine. 
 
 With an imperfect apparatus, the execution of my 
 song-book was far from good. Still, it was legible in 
 the old ballad and chap-book style, and I was obliged 
 to be content. Little by little, I got through the small 
 volume. It was a tedious drudgery. With my limited 
 fount, I could set up no more than eight small pages, 
 forming the eighth part of a sheet. After printing the 
 first eight, I had to distribute the letter and set up the 
 second eight, and so on throughout a hundred pages. 
 Months were consumed in the operation. The number 
 of copies printed was seven hundred and fifty, to effect 
 which I had to pull the press twenty thousand times. 
 But labour, as already hinted, cost nothing. I set the 
 types in the intervals of business, particularly during 
 wet weather, when the stall could not be put out, and 
 the press-work was executed late at night or early in the 
 morning. The only outlay worth speaking of for the 
 little volume was that incurred for paper, which I was 
 unable to purchase in greater quantities than a few 
 quires at a time, and therefore at a considerable dis- 
 advantage in price, but this was only another exemplifi- 
 cation of the old and too well-known truth, that ' the 
 destruction of the poor is their poverty,' about which it 
 was useless to repine. 
 
 When completed, the volume needed some species 
 of embellishment, and fortune helped me at this con- 
 juncture. There dwelt in the neighbourhood a poor 
 but ingenious man, advanced in life, named Peter Fyfe, 
 with whom I had already had some dealings. Peter 
 a short man, in a second-hand suit of black clothes, and 
 wearing a white neckcloth, which he arranged in loose 
 
PETER FYFE. 157 
 
 folds so as effectually to cover the breast of his shirt 
 was from the west country. He had been a weaver's 
 reed-maker in Paisley, but having been unfortunate in 
 business, he had migrated to Edinburgh, in the hope of 
 procuring some kind of employment Necessitous and 
 clever, with an inexhaustible fund of humour, he was 
 ready for anything artistic that might come in his way. 
 Peter did not want confidence. I am not aware of any 
 department in the fine or useful arts of which he would 
 have confessed himself ignorant. At this period, when 
 few knew anything of lithography, and he knew nothing 
 at all, he courageously undertook, in answer to an 
 advertisement, to organise and manage a concern of that 
 kind, and by tact and intuition gave unqualified satis- 
 faction. Peter was just the man I wanted. Although 
 altogether unacquainted with copperplate engraving, he 
 executed, from the descriptions I gave him, a portrait 
 of the Black Dwarf, for my account of that singular 
 personage which sketch has ever since been accepted 
 as an authority. 
 
 I now applied to this genius for a wood-engraving 
 for my song-book, which he successfully produced, and 
 for a few shillings additional, he executed a vignette 
 representing some national emblems. Invested with 
 these attractions, the song-book was soon put in boards, 
 and otherwise prepared for disposal. I sold the whole 
 either in single copies at a shilling, or wholesale to other 
 stall-keepers at a proper reduction, and, after paying all 
 expenses, cleared about nine pounds by the transaction. 
 
 Nine pounds was not a large sum, but it served an 
 important end. I was able to make some additions to 
 my scanty stock of types, which I procured from an aged 
 printer with a decaying business. To be prepared for 
 
158 MEMOIR. 
 
 executing posting-bills, I cut a variety of letters in wood 
 with a chisel and pen-knife. For such bold headings, 
 therefore, as ' Notice/ ( Found,' or ' Dog Lost,' I was 
 put to no straits worth mentioning. One of my most 
 successful speculations was the cutting in wood of the 
 words ' To Let,' in letters four inches long, an edition 
 of which I disposed of by the hundred at an enormous 
 profit, to dealers who sold such things to stick on the 
 fronts of houses to be let. 
 
 Since the acquisition of a back-room, I lived entirely 
 by myself. The few articles of furniture with which my 
 dwelling was provided required no special care. Like 
 Robinson Crusoe, I contrived to live without any per- 
 sonal assistance ; but from previous experience, this did 
 not involve any sacrifice. I continued to live on the 
 plainest fare ; used no tobacco, and never tasted beer, 
 wine, or spirits ; nor did I feel the want of these articles. 
 There was no doubt a certain air of vacuity about my 
 poor domicile, but it was scrupulously clean and orderly ; 
 and, at all events, there was nobody to find fault with it. 
 There was one unpleasant drawback in domestic arrange- 
 ments. No water could be procured except from a cart 
 laden with a barrel from Loch end, which passed along 
 the Walk every morning, the driver blowing a long tin 
 horn to give note of his approach. The water, not very 
 good, was sold at a halfpenny the pitcher. I was my 
 own water-carrier. My brother, with whom I had some 
 pleasant consultations every evening, on business and 
 other affairs, lived precisely as I did, in his separate 
 dwelling. 
 
 With enlarged accommodation, I commenced to keep 
 a circulating library, which, owing to the frequent issues 
 of the Waverley Novels, was tolerably successful. My 
 
PAINTING THE SIGNBOARD. 159 
 
 first counter, which consisted of some rudely put 
 together deals, pasted over with pink blotting-paper, to 
 give it a look of mahogany, was now dismissed with 
 thanks for its services, and was replaced by a counter 
 of a more substantial and respectable character, which 
 I purchased for twenty shillings at a sale of effects. 
 About the same time, I bought a second-hand sign- 
 board of considerable dimensions. It had belonged to 
 a vintner, and required to be painted anew. This I 
 effected at a very small cost little more than eighteen- 
 pence. My practice in writing letters to resemble print 
 rendered the painting a matter of no difficulty ; accord- 
 ingly, with some oil-paint and brushes procured for 
 the purpose, I painted the sign-board in well-defined 
 letters in chrome yellow on a black ground. With a 
 presumption characteristic of the Walk, the inscription 
 announced that I was a * Bookseller and Printer,' and 
 with this bold intimation, the huge sign-board was 
 hoisted to the tiled roof which covered my small 
 establishment. A great step in advance this. On the 
 whole, things were looking up. 
 
 All young men entering business are, I suppose, 
 haunted by advisers and gossips, who, leading an idle 
 kind of life, are glad to kill time in any quarter they get 
 encouragement. Loungers of this class were inclined to 
 honour me with their company, but I was too busy and 
 too anxious to make use of every moment of time to 
 greatly cultivate their acquaintance. Among them, there 
 was the aged military pensioner who pops about, and has 
 reminiscences of Walcheren ; the decayed ship-captain, 
 who, after being some time in the Oporto trade, has for 
 the last five years been ineffectually trying to get a post as 
 harbour-master; the broken-down merchant, who lives 
 
160 MEMOIR. 
 
 across the way (in dependence on his sons), and who, 
 being a determined humorist, has a faculty for making 
 satirical remarks on the by-passers. I can recollect 
 that one of this host of idlers was a habitual grumbler, 
 who, alarmed at the political aspect of affairs, prognosti- 
 cated the certain and speedy ruin of the country, and 
 earnestly and confidentially advised me to emigrate to 
 Illinois, or anywhere. I knew better than to apprehend 
 national ruin and stuck on. 
 
 Through the agency of book-hawkers who purchased 
 quantities of my Burns's Songs, I procured some orders 
 for printing ' Rules ' for Friendly and Burial Societies. 
 These answered me very well. The Rules were 
 executed in my old brevier, leaded, on the face of half 
 a sheet of foolscap, and were therefore within the 
 capacity of my fount. A person who was a lessee of 
 several toll-bars in the neighbourhood of the city, found 
 me out as a cheap printer, and gave me a job in 
 printing toll-tickets, which I executed to his satisfaction. 
 Another piece of work of a similar character which 
 came in my way was the printing of tickets for pawn- 
 brokers. My principal employer in this line was a 
 lady whose establishment was a second floor in High 
 Street. She was a short, plump, laughing, good-natured 
 woman, turned of fifty years of age. Her family con- 
 sisted of a niece, who attended to business, and an 
 aged female domestic, who went by the name of 
 ' Pawkie Macgouggy.' Pawkie, who had been a servant 
 in the family for upwards of twenty years, received me 
 when I called with a package of tickets, and kindly gave 
 me a seat in the kitchen till her mistress could be 
 communicated with. 
 
 The lady was so obliging as to shew me some 
 
PAWKIE MACGOUGGY. 161 
 
 politeness, and then, as well as a few years later, I 
 learned a part of her history. She had travelled abroad, 
 and brought with her to Edinburgh a knowledge of con- 
 tinental cookery. With this useful acquirement, she set 
 up a tavern business in South Bridge Street, and there 
 she laid the foundation of her fortune by a dexterous 
 hit in the culinary art. This consisted in the invention 
 of a savoury dish possessing an odour which, it was 
 said, no human being could resist. To this marvellously 
 fascinating dish she gave the name of Golli-Gosperado. 
 The way she attracted customers was ingenious. Her 
 tavern was down a stair, and was lighted by windows 
 to the street, protected by iron gratings, over which 
 the passengers walked. Having prepared her Golli- 
 Gosperado, she put a smoking dish of it underneath 
 the gratings in the pavement. According to her own 
 account, the odour was overpowering. Gentlemen in 
 passing were instantly riveted to the spot. They 
 declared they must have some of that astonishing dish, 
 whatever it was, and at whatever cost, and down-stairs 
 they rushed accordingly. For a time, there was quite 
 a furor in the town about the Golli-Gosperado. The 
 happy inventor retired from the trade with so much 
 money that she was able to set up as a pawnbroker. 
 In that profession she was likewise successful, and 
 ultimately retired altogether from business to a villa in 
 the neighbourhood, where she died, being attended in 
 her last moments by the faithful and sorrowing Pavvkie 
 Macgouggy. 
 
 A still better order than a batch of pawn-tickets 
 awaited me. A draper on a considerable scale, who 
 had known my father when in business, and sympathised 
 in his misfortunes, having learned that I was carrying 
 
 K 
 
1 62 MEMOIR. 
 
 on a small printing trade, one day sent for me. On 
 calling, I was introduced to this worthy old citizen a 
 small-sized man of advanced age, wearing hair-powder. 
 After a little conversation regarding my prospects, he 
 gave me an order to execute 10,000 shop-bills, bearing 
 at the top the words, in large italics, Fresh and Cheap. 
 It was imperative that there should be no alteration in 
 the typography. From the time the business began, 
 the bill had been distinguished by Fresh and Cheap, 
 in this style of letter, and I must on no account 
 make any change. I undertook the job on these 
 conditions. Before returning home, I went to my 
 friend the old printer, and bought Fresh and Cheap for 
 a shilling. An ordinary printer would have set up 
 four sets of type, and executed the four together, which 
 for 10,000 copies would have required only 2500 pulls. 
 Having only one Fresh and Cheap, and no great stock 
 of letter otherwise, I threw off only one at a time, and 
 therefore had to pull the whole 10,000 in separate 
 impressions. I look back with satisfaction to having 
 carried home my work in bundles, and in receiving 
 payment from the venerable head of the firm. He 
 dismissed me with a few complimentary remarks, stating 
 that there would be no fear of me if I kept steady and 
 clear of debt. Kindly words of this kind from a man 
 who had himself surmounted early difficulties, helped to 
 fortify my resolution. I could not see into the future, 
 but it was obvious there were principles by which alone 
 I could reckon on any chance of success. 
 
 My means being somewhat improved, it did not 
 appear unreasonable that I should enlarge my stock 
 of letter, by ordering a moderate fount of longprimer 
 adapted for pamphlet- work, from an aged type-founder, 
 
AN A GED TYPEFOUNDER. 163 
 
 named Matthewson, who carried on business at St 
 Leonard's, and with whom I had become acquainted. 
 In his walks, he occasionally called to rest in passing, 
 and hence our business dealings. His cut of letter was 
 not particularly handsome, but in the decline of life 
 and in easy circumstances, he did not care for new 
 fashions. 
 
 Disposed to be familiar, Matthewson gave me an 
 outline of his history. He had, he said, been originally 
 a shepherd boy, but from his earliest years had possessed 
 a taste for carving letters and figures. One day, while 
 attending his master's sheep, he was accidentally observed 
 by the minister of the parish to be carving some words 
 on a block of wood with a pocket-knife. The clergy- 
 man was so pleased with his ingenuity, that he interested 
 himself in his fate, and sent him to Edinburgh to pursue 
 the profession of a printer. Shortly afterwards, he 
 began to make himself useful by cutting dies for letters 
 of a particular description required by his employer ; 
 there being then no typefounder in the city. While so 
 occupied, he attracted the notice of Benjamin Franklin 
 on his second visit to Scotland. This was about 1771. 
 Franklin was pleased with the skill of the young printer, 
 and offered to take him to Philadelphia, and there assist 
 him in establishing a letter-foundry. Matthewson was 
 grateful for the disinterested offer, of which, unfortu- 
 nately, for family reasons, he could not take advantage. 
 He set up the business of letter-founding in Edinburgh, 
 which he had all to himself until the commencement of 
 establishments with higher claims to taste in execution. 
 
 To vary the monotony of my occupation, I had for 
 some time been making efforts at literary composition. 
 It was little I dared to attempt in that way, for anxiety 
 
164 MEMOIR. 
 
 concerning ways and means impelled me to disregard 
 every species of employment that partook of recreation, 
 or which was not immediately advantageous. With a 
 view to publication at the first favourable opportunity, 
 I wrote an account of the Scottish Gipsies, for which 
 I drew on my recollection of that picturesque order of 
 vagrants in the south of Scotland, and also the traditions 
 I had heard regarding them. It was a trifle nothing 
 worth speaking of; but being now provided with a 
 tolerably good fount of longprimer, also some new 
 brevier suitable for foot-notes, I thought it might be 
 made available. I accordingly set up the tract as a 
 sixpenny pamphlet ; and for this small brochure a coarse 
 copper-plate engraving was furnished by that versatile 
 genius, Peter Fyfe. It represented a savage gipsy-fight 
 at a place called Lowrie's Den, on the top of Soutra 
 Hill. The edition was sold rapidly off, and I cleared 
 a few pounds by the adventure. What was of greater 
 service, I felt encouraged to put my thoughts on paper, 
 and to endeavour to study correctness and fluency of 
 expression. The tract on the Gipsies also procured me 
 the acquaintance of a few persons interested in that 
 wayward class of the community. 
 
 My enlarged typographical capabilities led to new 
 aspirations. Robert, who had made corresponding 
 advances in business, but exclusively in connection with 
 bookselling, was occupying his leisure hours in literary 
 composition, which came upon him like an inspiration 
 at nineteen years of age. His tastes and powers in this 
 respect suggested the idea of a small periodical which we 
 might mutually undertake. He was to be the editor and 
 principal writer. I was to be the printer and publisher, 
 and also to contribute articles as far as time permitted. 
 
THE KALEIDOSCOPE. 165 
 
 The periodical was duly announced in a limited way, 
 and commenced. A name was adopted from the optical 
 toy invented by Sir David Brewster, about which all 
 classes were for a time nearly crazy. It was called 
 the Kaleidoscope, or Edinburgh Literary Amusement. In 
 size, it was sixteen pages octavo the price threepence 
 and it was to appear once a fortnight. The first 
 number was issued on Saturday, October 6, 1821. The 
 mechanical execution of this literary serial sorely tested 
 the powers of my poor little press, which received sundry 
 claspings of iron to strengthen it for the unexpected 
 duty. My muscular powers likewise underwent a trial. 
 I had to print the sheet in halves, one after the other, 
 and then stitch the two together. I set all the types, 
 and worked off all the copies, my younger brother 
 James, a fair-haired lad, rolling on the ink, and otherwise 
 rendering assistance. 
 
 This was the hardest task I had yet undergone ; for, 
 being pressed by time, there was no opportunity for rest. 
 Occupied with business, the composing-frame, and the 
 press, also with some literary composition, I was in 
 harness sixteen hours a day; took no more than a 
 quarter of an hour to meals ; and never gave over work 
 till midnight. Sometimes I had dreadful headaches. 
 Of course, I do not justify this excessive application. It 
 was clearly wrong. I was acting in violation of the laws 
 of health. Enthusiasm alone kept me up certainly no 
 material stimulus. My only excuse for this ardently 
 pursued labour, which must have been troublesome to 
 quietly disposed neighbours, was what at the same 
 period might have been offered by my brother for his 
 incessant self-sacrificing exertions a desire to overcome 
 a condition that provoked the most stinging recollections. 
 
i66 MEMOIR. 
 
 I should probably have broken down but for the weekly 
 repose and fresh air of Sunday, when, after attending 
 church, I had an exhilarating ramble on the sands and 
 links. 
 
 Robert wrote nearly the whole of the articles in the 
 Kaleidoscope, verse as well as prose. My contributions 
 consisted of only three or four papers. The general 
 tone of the articles, by whomsoever produced, may be 
 acknowledged to have been unnecessarily caustic and 
 satirical. There was also a certain crudeness of ideas, 
 such as might be expected from young and wholly 
 inexperienced writers. Nevertheless, there was that in 
 the Kaleidoscope which was indicative of Robert's future 
 skill as an essayist; for here might be found some of 
 the fancies which were afterwards developed in his 
 more successful class of articles. In particular, may be 
 mentioned the paper styled the ' Thermometer of Mis- 
 fortune/ in which occur the ideas that were in after- 
 years expanded into the essay on the luckless class of 
 intemperates popularly known as ' Victims.' 
 
 This little periodical also contained a few articles 
 descriptive of a wayward class of authors in the lower 
 walks of life, written from personal knowledge, and 
 marked by that sympathy for the unfortunate which 
 characterised my brother through life. I feel tempted 
 to give one of these sketches. It refers to Stewart 
 Lewis, a hapless being with whom Robert had become 
 acquainted, when he himself was in straits previous to 
 commencing his small business. 
 
 STEWART LEWIS. 
 
 ' It was towards the end of 1816, when I lived in a cottage 
 on one of the great roads which lead to this metropolis, 
 
STE WART LE WIS. 167 
 
 that I was engaged in a mercantile concern in the city, and 
 travelled thither every morning, and after the duties of the 
 day were performed, came back in the evening. I was one 
 evening, after my return, entertained by my mother with 
 an account of two extraordinary persons, who had called 
 during my absence ; and who afterwards proved to be 
 Stewart Lewis and his wife, travelling on an expedition to 
 Haddington, selling a small volume of poems which he had 
 just published. 
 
 * The appearance and singular manners of these visitants 
 were described to me in such terms of respect, as made me 
 regret my absence when they called ; and the volume of 
 poems which they had left, increased my desire to see their 
 author : for the acquaintance of a poet, and one who had 
 actually printed his productions, was at that time an object 
 of very great interest, and even curiosity. 
 
 'On the very next evening, however, my curiosity was 
 destined to be gratified, for who should drop in upon us but 
 poor Lewis with his wife ! They had, to use the wife's 
 expression, " never been off their feet " since early in the 
 morning, and were very much fatigued accordingly. I was 
 then introduced to the poet; and in the course of five 
 minutes, we were engaged in as sincere a friendship as if 
 we had lived together from infancy. Whether it was from 
 the naturally ardent enthusiasm of his temper, or a secret 
 instinctive discovery that I was afterwards to become one 
 of his own brotherhood, I will not, cannot, determine. From 
 what I can recollect of his appearance and countenance, 
 he was dressed in a suit of shabby clothes, mostly of a gray 
 colour ; his person was slender ; his face interesting, and 
 bearing peculiar marks of genius and intelligence ; his 
 forehead was high, his hair gray and thin, and he had 
 a countenance wrinkled with care, and squalid with poverty. 
 He never spoke but under the influence of a sort of furor ; 
 and he even did not return thanks for the favour of another 
 cup of tea without an excitation of feeling and expression, 
 which had in it something of poetic fervour. 
 
iG8 MEMOIR. 
 
 'His wife was a little old woman, with no remains of 
 that beauty which had captivated the high-toned heart of 
 Stewart Lewis thirty years before. He had thus addressed 
 her, on the thirtieth anniversary of their marriage : 
 
 " Though roses now have left thy cheek, 
 And dimples now in vain I seek ; 
 Thy placid brow, so mild and meek, 
 Proclaims I still should love thee. 
 
 How changed the scene since that blest day ! 
 My hair 's now thin and silver gray ; 
 Though all that 's mortal soon decay, 
 My soul shall live to love thee." 
 
 She spoke in a low querulous voice, subdued in its tones by 
 a long course of misery. They addressed each other by 
 terms of endearment as strong, and spoke with as great an 
 affection, as they had done on their marriage day. An 
 instance of conjugal attachment has seldom been found 
 like that of Stewart Lewis and his sorrow-broken spouse. 
 He had addressed several poems to her, even in her old age, 
 some of which are eminently beautiful, and breathe the 
 spirit of as fond an affection as if they had still been the 
 accents of a first love, unbroken and unproved. 
 
 ' They were much fatigued when they arrived ; but a 
 refreshment of tea soon revived their spirits ; and though 
 the success of their journey had been very limited, the poor 
 bard was soon elevated to a state of rapturous excitement ; 
 while yet in the intervals of his joy, the wife, who had less 
 of a poetic temperament, and whom misfortune had taught 
 the very habit of sorrow, would interfere, with a voice 
 mournfully soothing, and warn him of his inevitable griefs 
 to-morrow. 
 
 ' After this, we had frequent visits of Stewart Lewis ; but 
 as these were generally through the day, when I was engaged 
 in the duties of my profession, I had little opportunity of 
 seeing him. He had left several copies of his poems with 
 us ; and I afterwards succeeded in disposing of a few to the 
 
STE WAR T LE WIS. 169 
 
 most poetical of the neighbourhood, which raised a small 
 sum. I then resolved to pay him a visit. My father accom- 
 panied me in this adventure, out of curiosity to see his 
 dwelling. After searching all the closes at the west end of 
 the Cowgate for his habitation, we were at length directed 
 to it by an old woman, who appeared like a corpse from the 
 grave, rising out of a low cellar in a very dark close such 
 a pallid and wrinkled crone as I have seen full oft in my 
 antiquarian researches through the ancient lanes of the 
 town, emerging from her dark dungeon at mid-day to taste 
 one breath of a somewhat purer atmosphere than that of 
 her own subterranean domicile. With her shrivelled arm 
 she pointed up a narrow crazy stair which winded above 
 her head, and told us that the object of our search lived 
 there. We thanked her, and ascended. At the second 
 landing-place, we entered a dark narrow passage, from 
 which a number of doors seemed to diverge, the habitations 
 of miserables, and in one of which dwelt Stewart Lewis. 
 
 * On entering this wretched abode, we found the unfortu- 
 nate bard, with his son, a lad of seventeen, sitting at a table, 
 and employed in stitching up various copies of his poems 
 in blue paper covers. At our entrance, he started up with 
 an exclamation of surprise, and welcomed us to his humble 
 shed. I perceived, however, that his countenance presently 
 lost that bold smile of welcome, and his tongue that vehement 
 gush of poetical, enthusiastic language, habitual to him in 
 even the lowest occurrences of common life ; while his mind 
 seemed engaged in recollecting whether there was anything 
 in the house with which he might entertain us. I soon 
 eased him of his fear on that account, by laying in his hand 
 the small sum which I had collected for his benefit from the 
 sale of his poems. His face immediately assumed its former 
 smile, and after thanking me, he sent away his son with two- 
 thirds of the money to purchase whiskey an act of improvi- 
 dent extravagance which I could not help condemning with 
 perhaps too great vehemence for a guest. He did not seem 
 offended by my remonstrances. It was obvious, however, 
 
170 MEMOIR. 
 
 that the cause of his miserable and hopeless condition had 
 been disclosed. 
 
 'After this interview, I never saw Stewart Lewis more. 
 His wife died shortly after, and he came to my father's 
 house in my absence, in a state of distraction for his loss. 
 He waited many hours for my return, but at last went away 
 without seeing me. The depth of his sorrow was intimated 
 to me in a way perhaps more affecting than any personal 
 interview might have been. He left a letter, in which was 
 written, in a hand which I could scarcely decipher, and in 
 characters which strayed over the whole page : 
 
 "Mv DEAR SIR, 
 
 I AM MAD. 
 
 STEWART LEWIS." 
 
 'The affection which this poor man entertained for the 
 benign being who, for upwards of thirty years, had shared 
 with him a constant train of sorrow and poverty without 
 ever repining, had in it something truly romantic. She was 
 the first and only woman he had ever loved, and he always 
 declared that he could not survive her loss. Their love was 
 mutual, and her devotion to him had been often shewn by 
 more substantial proofs than words. 
 
 * She had frequently, even when they were in a state of 
 starvation, worked a whole day at some coarse millinery 
 work to earn a sixpence, that she might, with mistaken 
 kindness, supply her husband with spirits. The unfortunate 
 habit of drinking intoxicating liquors, which he had acquired 
 after an early disappointment in life, never afterwards left 
 him ; and whether to drown reflections on his own misery 
 and blasted prospects, or to inspire him with the faculty of 
 versification, he found the indulgence of that propensity, as 
 he imagined, necessary to his existence. But never was the 
 brow of this woman clouded with a reproof of the cause of 
 all her sorrows, and a word of remonstrance against his 
 foibles was never heard to escape her lips. He has com- 
 memorated his unutterable affection in several beautiful 
 
STE WAR T LE WIS. 1 7 1 
 
 songs. In one, which he calls his " Address to his Wife," I 
 find the following pathetic verses : 
 
 ' ' In youthful life's ecstatic days, 
 
 I 've rapt'rous kissed thae lips o' thine ; 
 And fondly yet, with joy I gaze 
 On thee, auld canty wife o' mine. 
 
 When fortune's adverse winds did blaw, 
 
 And maist my senses I wad tine, 
 Thy smilin' face drove ill awa', 
 
 Thou ever dear auld wife o' mine. 
 
 Lang round the ingle's heartsome blaze, 
 
 Thy thrifty hand made a' to shine ; 
 Thou 'st been my comfort a' my days, 
 
 Thou carefu' auld wife o' mine. 
 
 When life must leave our hoary head, 
 
 Our genial souls will still be kin', 
 We '11 smile and mingle wi' the dead, 
 
 Thou canty auld wife o' mine." 
 
 After the death of his wife, he wandered all over Scotland 
 and the northern counties of England, reckless of his fate. 
 He lamented her death in ceaseless complaints, and seemed 
 careless of life. The remainder of the copies of his poems 
 which he had left with us a considerable number were 
 sent to him while he was at Inverness, and he subsisted 
 entirely on what the sale of them provided for upwards of a 
 twelvemonth. When weary of existence, and worn out with 
 fatigue, he died at an obscure village in Dumfriesshire, 
 about the end of 1818. He left three daughters, none of 
 whom I ever saw, and one son, who had latterly been the 
 companion of his wanderings a youth unfortunately weak 
 in his intellects, and of whose fate I have been able to learn 
 nothing.' 
 
 My brother's poetical pieces were the best. Some 
 of them were touching and beautiful, particularly the 
 
1 72 MEMOIR. 
 
 address ' To the Evening Star,' which has been often 
 reprinted by compilers of volumes of poetry without 
 intimating its origin, which is not surprising, for who 
 knows that the obscure periodical in which it first made 
 its appearance ever existed ? It may be given as a speci- 
 men of his powers of versification at nineteen years of 
 age. 
 
 TO THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 Soft star of eve, whose trembling light 
 
 Gleams through the closing eye of day, 
 Where clouds of dying purple bright 
 
 Melt in the shades of eve away, 
 And mock thee with a fitful ray, 
 
 Pure spirit of the twilight hour, 
 Till forth thou blazest to display 
 
 The splendour of thy native power. 
 
 'Twas thus, when earth from chaos sprung, 
 
 The smoke of forming worlds arose, 
 And, o'er thine infant beauty hung, 
 
 Hid thee awhile in dark repose ; 
 Till the black veil dissolved away, 
 
 Drunk by the universal air, 
 And thou, sweet star, with lovely ray, 
 
 Shone out on paradise so fair. 
 
 When the first eve the world had known 
 
 Fell blissfully on Eden's bowers, 
 And earth's first love lay couched upon 
 
 The dew of Eden's fairest flowers ; 
 Then thy first smile in heaven was seen 
 
 To hail the birth of love divine, 
 And ever since that smile hath been 
 
 The sainted passion's hallowed shrine : 
 Can lover yet behold the beam 
 
 Unmoved, unpassioned, unrefined? 
 While there thou shin'st the brightest gem, 
 
 To Night's cerulean crown assigned. 
 
DESERTION OF THE WALK. 173 
 
 Since then how many gentle eyes 
 
 That love and thy pure ray made bright, 
 Have gazed on thee with blissful sighs 
 
 Now veiled in everlasting night ! 
 Oh, let not love or youth be vain 
 
 Of present bliss, and hope more high ; 
 The stars the very clods remain 
 
 Love, they, and all of theirs must die. 
 
 Now throned upon the western wave, 
 
 Thou tremblest coyly, star of love ! 
 And dip'st beneath its gleamy heave 
 
 Thy silver foot, the bath to prove. 
 And though no power thy course may stay, 
 
 Which nature's changeless laws compel, 
 To thee a thousand hearts shall say 
 
 Sweet star of love, farewell, farewell ! 
 
 The Kaleidoscope did not last. It sold pretty well, 
 but only to the extent of paying expenses, yielding no 
 reward whatever for literary effort. Yet it was not an 
 absolutely valueless undertaking. It was a trial of one's 
 wings, and encouraged to higher flights in more favour- 
 able times and circumstances. The concluding number 
 appeared on i2th January 1822. 
 
 From about this time, new and enlarged views began 
 to predominate. Early difficulties had been successfully 
 mastered. Three to four years of a funny, scheming, 
 struggling, tolerably hard-working existence to be 
 remembered like a dream or chapter of a romance 
 had fulfilled every reasonable anticipation. Robert's 
 originally small stock had increased to be worth about 
 two hundred pounds, and I had made a similar advance. 
 The Walk, as we thought, had fairly served its day. 
 With sentiments somewhat akin to those of Tom Tug, 
 in the Waterman, when bidding a pathetic farewell to 
 
I 74 MEMOIR. 
 
 his ' trim-built wherry,' we were disposed to bid an 
 affecting and grateful adieu to stall and trestles, and 
 bequeath to others the advantages, the drolleries, and 
 classic associations of open-air traffic. Migration was 
 accordingly resolved on, and we had sundry commun- 
 ings as regards where we should respectively attempt 
 to establish ourselves in Edinburgh. 
 
 It was now that Robert, as will be afterwards stated 
 in his own words, became known to Sir Walter Scott, 
 by writing for him and presenting, through Mr 
 Constable, a transcript of the songs of the Lady of the 
 Lake, in the small and neat style of caligraphy to which 
 I have made some reference. Immediately afterwards, 
 in 1822, he removed to India Place; I removed to 
 Broughton Street in the spring of 1823 ; both places, as 
 we diffidently ventured to hope, being intermediate to 
 something better. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ROBERT'S WRITINGS 1822 TO 1832. 
 
 TV/T Y brother's literary efforts had hitherto been on a 
 limited scale. He had composed some pieces, 
 remarkable, perhaps, for his years and the untoward 
 circumstances in which he was placed ; but, except by 
 a few acquaintances, none augured that he would make 
 any progress as an author. His first production, not a 
 very high flight, was entitled Illustrations of the Author 
 of Waverley. It consisted of short sketches of several 
 individuals, chiefly connected with the south of Scot- 
 land, popularly believed to have been the originals of 
 characters in the earlier fictions of Sir Walter Scott, 
 as, for example, Davie Gellatley, Dominie Sampson, 
 Meg Merrilies, and Dandie Dinmont. The south- 
 country people who came about us one of them a 
 retired parish minister given to gossip formed a con- 
 venient source of information on the subject. 
 
 In a book which speculated on the identification of 
 actual scenes, incidents, and characters with what had 
 given rise to the fictions of the novelist, it would have 
 been strange if the writer had not sometimes gone a 
 little wide of the mark. According to the Introduction 
 
176 MEMOIR. 
 
 to the annotated edition of the Monastery, an erroneous 
 conjecture had been hazarded respecting Captain 
 Clutterbuck, who, not a little to the surprise of Sir 
 Walter, was identified with a friend and neighbour of 
 his own. Apart, however, from misapprehensions of this 
 kind, the Illustrations pointed, in a wonderfully correct 
 manner, at the originals of some of the principal 
 characters in the earlier novels. The work, issued in 
 1822, formed a small volume, of which I was the 
 printer. It was well received, and was subsequently 
 (1824) republished in better style by an Edinburgh 
 bookseller. 
 
 After being settled in India Place, Robert carried out 
 the design of writing the Traditions of Edinburgh, a work 
 for which he was in a degree prepared by those youthful 
 explorations already adverted to, as well as by his having 
 meditated over the subject. Professedly, the book was 
 to consist of amusing particulars concerning old houses, 
 distinguished characters, and curious incidents, such as 
 could be picked up from individuals then still living. 
 The scheme met with general approval. There were still 
 alive persons who had some remembrance of the Scottish 
 capital in the early part of the reign of George III., 
 when persons of rank were as yet dwellers in the tall 
 tenements and dingy closes of the Old Town. One 
 gentleman in the decline of life remembered as many as 
 fifty titled personages, some of them of historical note, 
 who dwelt in the Canongate (formerly the Court end of 
 the town) as lately as 1769. There were others whose 
 recollections did not extend so far back, but who in 
 youth had been acquainted with interesting public 
 characters who had disappeared. By procuring infor- 
 mation from these various individuals regarding a past 
 
ROBERTS WRITINGS. 177 
 
 state of things, traditions were gathered together which 
 in a few years later would have entirely vanished. 
 
 The Traditions, thus happily put in shape while there 
 were still living memories to draw upon, well suited the 
 antiquarian tastes of my brother, and he entered on the 
 work with the keenest possible relish. It was issued in 
 parts, and I was, of course, the printer and publisher, 
 the whole case and press work being as hitherto 
 executed with my own hands. The result was a book 
 in two volumes, with the date 1824. In an introductory 
 notice to a new edition in 1868, the author gives the 
 following account of the manner in which the work was 
 produced and received. 
 
 ' I am about to do what very few could do without 
 emotion revise a book which I wrote forty-five years 
 ago. This little work came out in the Augustan days 
 of Edinburgh, when Jeffrey and Scott, Wilson and the 
 Ettrick Shepherd, Dugald Stewart and Alison, were 
 daily giving the productions of their minds to the public, 
 and while yet Archibald Constable acted as the un- 
 questioned emperor of the publishing world. I was 
 then an insignificant person of the age of twenty; yet, 
 destitute as I was both of means and friends, I formed 
 the hope of writing something which would attract 
 attention. The subject I proposed was one lying readily 
 at hand, the romantic things connected with Old 
 Edinburgh. If, I calculated, a first part or number 
 could be issued, materials for others might be expected 
 to come in, for scores of old inhabitants, even up 
 perhaps to the very " oldest," would then contribute their 
 reminiscences. 
 
 ' The plan met with success. Materials almost 
 
 L 
 
i;3 MEMOIR. 
 
 unbounded came to me, chiefly from aged professional 
 and mercantile gentlemen, who usually, at m^ first 
 introduction to them, started at my youthful appearance, 
 having formed the notion that none but an old person 
 would have thought of writing such a book. A friend 
 gave me a letter to Mr Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, who, 
 I was told, knew the scandal of the time of Charles II. 
 as well as he did the merest gossip of the day, and had 
 much to say regarding the good society of a hundred 
 years ago. 
 
 * Looking back from the year 1868, 1 feel that C. K. S. 
 has himself become, as it were, a tradition of Edin- 
 burgh. His thin effeminate figure, his voice pitched in 
 alt. his attire, as he took his daily walks on Princes 
 Street, a long blue frock-coat, black trousers, rather 
 wide below, and sweeping over white stockings and neat 
 shoes something like a web of white cambric round 
 his neck, and a brown wig coming down to his eye- 
 brows had long established him as whai. is called a 
 character. He had recently edited a book containing 
 many stories of diablerie, and another in which the 
 original narrative of ultra-presbyterian church history 
 had to bear a series of cavalier notes of the most 
 mocking character. He had a quaint biting wit, which 
 people bore as they would a scratch from a provoked 
 cat. Essentially, he was good-natured, and fond of 
 merriment. He had considerable gifts of drawing, and 
 one caricature portrait by him of Queen Elizabeth 
 dancing, "high and disposedly," before the Scotch 
 ambassadors, is the delight of everybody who has seen 
 it. He was intensely aristocratic, and cared nothing 
 for the interests of the great multitude. He complained 
 that one never heard of any gentlefolks committing 
 
CHARLES KIRKPA TRICK SHARPE. 1 79 
 
 crimes now-a-days, as if that were a disadvantage to 
 them or the public. Any case of a Lady Jane stabbing 
 a perjured lover would have delighted him. While the 
 child of whim, Mr Sharpe was generally believed to 
 possess respectable talents, by which, with a need for 
 exerting them, he might have achieved distinction. 
 His ballad of the " Murder of Caerlaverock," in the 
 Minstrelsy, is a masterly production; and the concluding 
 verses haunt one like a beautiful strain of music : 
 
 " To sweet Lincluden's haly cells 
 
 Fu' dowie I '11 repair ; 
 There Peace wi' gentle Patience dwells, 
 Nae deadly feuds are there. 
 
 In tears I '11 wither ilka charm, 
 
 Like draps o' balefu' yew ; 
 And wail the beauty that could harm 
 
 A knight sae brave and true." 
 
 ' After what I had heard and read of Charles Sharpe, 
 I called upon him at his mother's house, No. 93 Princes 
 Street, in a somewhat excited frame of mind. His 
 servant conducted me to the first floor, and shewed me 
 into what is generally called amongst us the back 
 drawing-room, which I found carpeted with green cloth, 
 and full of old family portraits, some on the walls, but 
 many more on the floor. A small room leading off 
 this one behind, was the place where Mr Sharpe gave 
 audience. Its diminutive space was stuffed full of old 
 curiosities, cases with family bijouterie, &c. One petty 
 object was strongly indicative of the man a calling- 
 card of Lady Charlotte Campbell, the once adored 
 beauty, stuck into the frame of a picture. He must 
 have kept it at that time about thirty years. On 
 appearing, Mr Sharpe received me very cordially, telling 
 
i8o MEMOIR. 
 
 me he had seen and been pleased with my first two 
 numbers. Indeed, he and Sir Walter Scott had talked 
 together of writing a book of the same kind in company, 
 and calling it Reekiana, which plan, however, being 
 anticipated by me, the only thing that remained for him 
 was to cast any little matters of the kind he possessed 
 into my care. I expressed myself duly grateful, and 
 took my leave. The consequence was, the appearance 
 of notices regarding the eccentric Lady Anne Dick, the 
 beautiful Susanna, Countess of Eglintoune, the Lord 
 Justice-clerk Alva, and the Duchess of Queensberry (the 
 " Kitty " of Prior), before the close of my first volume. 
 Mr Sharpe's contributions were all of them given in 
 brief notes, and had to be written out on an enlarged 
 scale, with what I thought a regard to literary effect as 
 far as the telling was concerned. 
 
 'By an introduction from Dr Chalmers, I visited a 
 living lady who might be considered as belonging to 
 the generation at the beginning of the reign of George 
 III. Her husband, Alexander Murray, had, I believe, 
 been Lord North's solicitor-general for Scotland. She 
 herself, born before the Porteous Riot, and well re- 
 membering the Forty-five, was now within a very brief 
 space of the age of a hundred. Although she had not 
 married in her earlier years, her children, Mr Murray 
 of Henderland and others, were all elderly people. I 
 found the venerable lady seated at a window in her 
 drawing-room in George Street, with her daughter, Miss 
 Murray, taking the care of her which her extreme age 
 required, and with some help from this lady, we had a 
 conversation of about an hour. She spoke with due 
 reverence of her mother's brother, the Lord Chief- 
 justice Mansfield; and when I adverted to the long 
 
MRS MURRA Y OF HENDERLAND. 181 
 
 pamphlet against him written by Mr Andrew Stuart at 
 the conclusion of the Douglas Cause, she said that, to 
 her knowledge, he had never read it, such being his 
 practice in respect of all attacks made upon him, lest 
 they should disturb his equanimity in judgment. As 
 the old lady was on intimate terms with Boswell, and 
 had seen Johnson on his visit to Edinburgh as she 
 was the sister-in-law of Allan Ramsay the painter, and 
 had lived in the most cultivated society of Scotland all 
 her long life there were ample materials for conversa- 
 tion with her ; but her small strength made this shorter 
 and slower than I could have wished. When we came 
 upon the poet Ramsay she seemed to have caught new 
 vigour from the subject : she spoke with animation of 
 the child-parties she had attended in his house on 
 the Castlehill during a course of ten years before his 
 death an event which happened in 1757. He was 
 "charming," she said; he entered so heartily into the 
 plays of children. He, in particular, gained their hearts 
 by making houses for their dolls. How pleasant it was 
 to learn that our great pastoral poet was a man who, 
 in his private capacity, loved to sweeten the daily life 
 of his fellow-creatures, and particularly of the young ! 
 At a warning from Miss Murray, I had to tear myself 
 away from this delightful and never-to-be-forgotten 
 interview. 
 
 1 1 had, one or two years before, when not out of my 
 teens, attracted some attention from Sir Walter Scott, 
 by writing for him and presenting (through Mr Con- 
 stable) a transcript of the songs of the Lady of the Lake, 
 in a style of peculiar caligraphy, which I practised for 
 want of any better way of attracting the notice of people 
 superior to myself. When George IV. some months 
 
1 82 MEMOIR. 
 
 afterwards came to Edinburgh, good Sir Walter re- 
 membered me, and procured for me the business of 
 writing the address of the Royal Society of Edinburgh 
 to his Majesty, for which I was handsomely paid. 
 Several other learned bodies followed the example, for 
 Sir Walter Scott was the arbiter of everything during 
 that frantic time, and thus I was substantially benefited 
 by his means. 
 
 * According to what Mr Constable told me, the great 
 man liked me, in part because he understood I was 
 from Tweedside. On seeing the earlier numbers of the 
 Traditions, he expressed astonishment as to ' where the 
 boy got all the information.' But I did not see or hear 
 from him till the first volume had been completed. He 
 then called upon me one day, along with Mr Lockhart. 
 I was overwhelmed with the honour, for Sir Walter 
 Scott was almost an object of worship to me. I 
 literally could not utter a word. While I stood silent, 
 I heard him tell his companion that Charles Sharpe was 
 a writer in the Traditions, and taking up the volume, 
 he read aloud what he called one of his quaint bits. 
 "The ninth Earl of Eglintoune was one of those 
 patriarchal peers who live to an advanced age 
 indefatigable in the frequency of their marriages and 
 the number of their children who linger on and on, 
 with an unfailing succession of young countesses, and 
 die at last leaving a progeny interspersed throughout 
 the whole of Douglas's Peerage, two volumes, folio, re- 
 edited by Wood." And then both gentlemen went on 
 laughing for perhaps two minutes, with interjections : 
 "How like Charlie!" "What a strange being he is!" 
 " Two volumes, folio, re-edited by Wood ha, ha, ha ! 
 There you have him past all doubt;" and so on. I was 
 
SIR WALTER SCOTT. 183 
 
 too much abashed to tell Sir Walter that it was only an 
 impudent little bit of writing of my own, part of the 
 solution into which I had diffused the actual notes of 
 Sharpe. But, having occasion to write next day to Mr 
 Lockhart, I mentioned Sir Walter's mistake; and he 
 was soon after good enough to inform me that he had 
 set his friend right as to the authorship, and they had 
 had a second hearty laugh on the subject. 
 
 ' A very few days after this visit, Sir Walter sent me, 
 along with a kind letter, a packet of manuscript, con- 
 sisting of sixteen folio pages, in his usual close hand- 
 writing, and containing all the reminiscences he could 
 at the time summon up of old persons and things in 
 Edinburgh. Such a treasure to me ! And such a gift 
 from the greatest literary man of the age to the 
 humblest ! Is there a literary man of the present age 
 who would scribble as much for any humble aspirant? 
 Nor was this the only act of liberality of Scott to me. 
 When I was preparing a subsequent work, The Popular 
 Rhymes of Scotland, he sent me whole sheets of his 
 recollections, with appropriate explanations. For years 
 thereafter, he allowed me to join him in his walks home 
 from the Parliament House, in the course of which he 
 freely poured into my greedy ears anything he knew 
 regarding the subjects of my studies. His kindness and 
 good-humour on these occasions were untiring. I have 
 since found, from his journal, that I had met him on 
 certain days when his heart was overladen with woe. 
 Yet his welcome to me was the same. After 1826, 
 however, I saw him much less frequently than before, 
 for I knew he grudged every moment not spent in 
 thinking and working on the fatal tasks he had assigned 
 to himself for the redemption of his debts. 
 
184 MEMOIR. 
 
 'All through the preparation of this book, I was 
 indebted a good deal to a gentleman who was neither a 
 literary man nor an artist himself, but hovered round 
 the outskirts of both professions, and might be con- 
 sidered as a useful adjunct to both. Every votary of 
 pen or pencil amongst us knew David Bridges at his 
 drapery establishment in the Lawnmarket, and many 
 had been indebted to his obliging disposition. A quick, 
 dark-eyed little man, with lips full of sensibility and a 
 tongue unloving of rest, such a man in a degree as one 
 can suppose Garrick to have been, he held a sort of 
 court every day, where wits and painters jostled with 
 people wanting coats, jerkins, and spotted handkerchiefs. 
 The place was small, and had no saloon behind; so, 
 whenever David had got some " bit " to shew you, he 
 dragged you down a dark stair to a packing-place, 
 lighted only by a grate from the street, and there, amidst 
 plaster-casts numberless, would fix you with his glittering 
 eye, till he had convinced you of the fine handling, the 
 "buttery touches" (a great phrase with him), the 
 admirable " scummling " (another), and so forth. It was 
 in the days prior to the Royal Scottish" Academy and its 
 exhibitions ; and it was left in a great measure to David 
 Bridges to bring forward aspirants in art. Did such a 
 person long for notice, he had only to give David one 
 of his best " bits," and in a short time he would find 
 himself chattered into fame in that profound, the grate 
 of which I never can pass without recalling something 
 of the buttery touches of those old days. The Black- 
 wood wits, who laughed at everything, fixed upon our 
 friend the title of " Director-general of the Fine Arts," 
 which was, however, too much of a truth to be a jest. 
 To this extraordinary being I had been introduced 
 
DA VID BRID GES. 1 85 
 
 somehow, and, entering heartily into my views, he 
 brought me information, brought me friends, read and 
 criticised my proofs, and would, I daresay, have written 
 the book itself if I had so desired. It is impossible to 
 think of him without a smile, but at the same time a 
 certain melancholy, for his life was one which, I fear, 
 proved a poor one for himself. 
 
 'Before the Traditions were finished, I had become 
 favourably acquainted with many gentlemen of letters 
 and others, who were pleased to think that Old Edin- 
 burgh had been chronicled. Wilson gave me a laudatory 
 sentence in the Nodes Ambrosiancz. The Bard of Ettrick, 
 viewing my boyish years, always spoke of and to me as 
 an unaccountable sort of person, but never could be 
 induced to believe otherwise than that I had written all 
 my traditions from my own head. I had also the 
 pleasure of enjoying some intercourse with the venerable 
 Henry Mackenzie, who had been born in 1745, but 
 always seemed to feel as if the Man of Feeling had been 
 written only one instead of sixty years ago, and as if 
 there was nothing particular in antique occurrences. 
 The whole affair was pretty much of a triumph at the 
 time. Now, when I am giving it a final revision, I 
 reflect with touched feelings, that all the brilliant men of 
 the time when it was written are, without an exception, 
 passed away, while, for myself, I am forced to claim the 
 benefit of Horace's humanity : 
 
 " Solve senescentem mature sanus equum, ne 
 Peccet ad extremum ridendus, et ilia ducat.'"* 
 
 In this recent edition of the Traditions are compre- 
 
 * Discreetly unharness in good time a horse growing old, lest in 
 the end he make a miserable break-down. 
 
1 86 MEMOIR. 
 
 bended a variety of particulars gathered since the first 
 appearance of the work, and calculated to heighten the 
 legendary picture of Old Edinburgh. A great proportion 
 of this new matter was drawn from a small work which 
 my brother wrote under the title of jReekiana, which 
 appeared in 1833. The new edition of the Traditions is 
 therefore a considerable improvement on the old. One 
 does not read without interest an account of interviews 
 with aged persons, such as Sir William Macleod Banna- 
 tyne, who recollected the circumstance of 'his father 
 drawing on his boots to go to make interest in London 
 in behalf of some of the men in trouble for the Forty- 
 five, particularly his own brother-in-law, the Clanranald 
 of that day.' Perhaps the most interesting of these 
 interviews was one narrated as follows, with Mrs Irving, 
 a venerable lady who possessed by inheritance the 
 patent of Anderson's pills a drug which took its 
 origin from Dr Anderson, a physician of the time of 
 Charles I. : 
 
 'In 1829, Mrs Irving lived in a neat, self-contained 
 mansion in Chessels's Court, in the Canongate, along 
 with her son, General Irving, and some members of his 
 family. The old lady, then ninety-one, was good enough 
 to invite me to dinner, where I likewise found two 
 younger sisters of hers, respectively eighty-nine and 
 ninety. She sat firm and collected at the head of the 
 table, and carved a leg of mutton with perfect propriety. 
 She then told me, at her son's request, that, in the year 
 1745, when Prince Charles's army was in possession of 
 the town, she, a child of four years, walked with her 
 nurse to Holyrood Palace, and seeing a Highland 
 gentleman standing in the doorway, she went up to him 
 to examine his peculiar attire. She even took the 
 
MRS IRVING. 187 
 
 liberty of lifting up his kilt a little way ; whereupon her 
 nurse, fearing some danger, started forward for her pro- 
 tection. But the gentleman only patted her head, and 
 said something kind to her. I felt it as very curious 
 to sit as a guest with a person who had mingled in the 
 Forty-five. But my excitement was brought to a higher 
 pitch, when, on ascending to the drawing-room, I found 
 the general's daughter, a pretty young woman, recently 
 married, sitting there, dressed in a suit of clothes 
 belonging to one of her nonagenarian aunts a very fine 
 one of flowered satin, with elegant cap and lappets, and 
 silk shoes three inches deep in the heel the same 
 having been worn just seventy years before at a Hunters' 
 Ball at Holyrood Palace. The contrast between the 
 former and the present wearer the old lady shrunk and 
 taciturn, and her young representative full of life, and 
 resplendent in joyous beauty had an effect upon me 
 which it would be impossible to describe. To this day, 
 I look upon the Chessels's Court dinner as one of the 
 most extraordinary events of my life. Mrs Irving died 
 in 1837, at the age of ninety-nine.' 
 
 Passing to the next of my brother's productions : In 
 November 1824, there was a week of calamitous fires 
 in Edinburgh, which desolated a portion of the High 
 Street and Parliament Square. To help the fund raised 
 on behalf of the sufferers on the occasion, he wrote a 
 popular account of the chief Fires which have occurred in 
 Edinburgh since the beginning of the eighteenth century. 
 In the excitement of the moment, it had a considerable 
 sale, and was so far useful. 
 
 The success of the Traditions encouraged the prepara- 
 tion of a companion to that work, applying to the 
 
1 88 MEMOIR. 
 
 general features of the city, and partly devoted to the 
 service of strangers. It was styled Walks in Edinburgh, 
 and was issued in 1825. From the pleasing anecdotic 
 style in which the book was written, it was well received, 
 and added to the literary repute of the writer. 
 
 Diligent, painstaking, and with a love of what was 
 old and characteristic, Robert had for some time been 
 collecting a variety of familiar sayings in rhyme, and 
 these appeared early in 1826, under the title of Popular 
 Rhymes of Scotland. As has been already mentioned, 
 Sir Walter Scott, with his accustomed kindness, forwarded 
 some contributions to the work, which has passed through 
 three editions. As regards the purport of this collection 
 of national rhymes, the following explanation is given 
 in the preface to the third and considerably extended 
 edition : 
 
 1 Reared amidst friends to whom popular poetry 
 furnished a daily enjoyment, and led by a tendency of 
 my own mind to delight in whatever is quaint, whimsical, 
 and old, I formed the wish, at an early period of life, 
 to complete, as I considered it, the collection of the 
 traditionary verse of Scotland, by gathering together 
 and publishing all that remained of a multitude of 
 rhymes and short snatches of verse applicable to places, 
 families, natural objects, amusements, &c., wherewith, 
 not less than by song and ballad, the cottage fireside 
 was amused in days gone past, while yet printed books 
 were only familiar to comparatively few. This task was 
 executed as well as circumstances would permit, and a 
 portion of the Popular Rhymes of Scotland was pub- 
 lished in 1826. Other objects have since occupied 
 me, generally of a graver kind ; yet amidst them all, I 
 have never lost my wish to complete the publication 
 
WILLIE WILSON. 189 
 
 of these relics of the old natural literature of my native 
 country.' 
 
 Among the persons to whom my brother applied for 
 materials for the work was William Wilson, a young 
 man of about his own age, who had similar poetical and 
 archaeological tastes, and for a time edited a literary 
 periodical in Dundee. Between the two there sprung 
 up an extraordinary friendship, which was not weakened 
 by Wilson some years later emigrating to America, and 
 setting up as a bookseller at Poughkeepsie, a pretty 
 town on the Hudson, in the state of New York. The 
 letters which passed between them bring into view a 
 number of particulars concerning my brother's literary 
 aims and efforts. Writing in January 1824 to Wilson, 
 whom he always addressed as his ' dear Willie,' he refers 
 gratifyingly to the Traditions, and the manner in which 
 the book had brought him into notice : ' This little work 
 is taking astonishingly, and I am getting a great deal of 
 credit by it. It has also been the means of introducing 
 me to many of the most respectable leading men of the 
 town, and has attracted to me the attention of not a few 
 of the most eminent literary characters. What would 
 you think, for instance, of the venerable author of the 
 Man of Feeling calling on me in his carriage to con- 
 tribute his remarks in manuscript on my work ! The 
 value of the above two great advantages is incalculable 
 to a young tradesman and author like me. It saves me 
 twenty years of mere laborious plodding by the common 
 walk, and gives me at twenty-two all the respectability 
 which I could have expected at forty.' 
 
 Later in the same year, he encloses a lyrical effusion 
 to Wilson, the inspiring heroine of which can be guessed 
 
190 MEMOIR. 
 
 at from the name of a young lady, who was prevented 
 by her mother from forming an intimacy with one not 
 supposed to be in the category of an ' eligible.' It is to 
 be regretted that ' Leila ' was not afterwards particularly 
 fortunate in her marriage. 
 
 FAIR LEILA'S EYES. 
 
 * Fair Leila's eyes, fair Leila's eyes, 
 Oft fill my breast with glad surprise 
 Surprise and love, and hope and pride, 
 With many a glowing thought beside. 
 
 The light that lies in Leila's eyes 
 No trick of vain allurement tries, 
 But sheds a soft and constant beam, 
 Like moonlight on the tranquil stream ; 
 Yet as the seas from pole to pole 
 Move at yon gentle orb's control, 
 So tumults in my bosom rise 
 Beneath the charm of Leila's eyes. 
 
 Fair Leila's eyes, fair Leila's eyes, fee. 
 
 For Leila's eyes I 'd gladly shun 
 The flaunting glare of Fortune's sun, 
 And to the humble shade betake, 
 Which they a brighter heaven could make. 
 The wildfire lights I once pursued 
 Should ne'er again my steps delude : 
 I 'd fix my faith, and only prize 
 The steadfast light of Leila's eyes. 
 
 Fair Leila's eyes, fair Leila's eyes, &c.' 
 
 Improving in his prospects, Robert removed with his 
 bookselling business to Hanover Street, where the con- 
 ducting of his establishment fell partly on James, who 
 had been reared as a coadjutor. In 1826, following 
 next after the Rhymes, appeared his Picture of Scotland, 
 a work in two volumes, the materials for which had 
 been gathered together by a succession of toilsome 
 
PICTURE OF SCOTLAND. 191 
 
 peregrinations over a large part of the country, exclu- 
 sively of previous historical studies. An ardent attach- 
 ment to Scotland had led him to undertake the work ; 
 for, as he said : ' Instead of the pilgrim's scallop in my 
 hat, I took for motto the glowing expression of Burns 
 " I have no dearer aim than to make leisurely journeys 
 through Caledonia; to sit on the fields of her battles; 
 to wander on the romantic banks of her streams ; and 
 to muse by the stately towers of venerable ruins, once 
 the homesteads of her heroes."' In the main topo- 
 graphical, the book comprehended an interlarding of 
 native anecdote and humour, along with illustrations of 
 the manners of a past age. * The reclamation of that 
 which is altogether poetry the wonderful, beautiful 
 past/ he adds, was a primary object of the book, being 
 * conscious and certain that, though many of his own 
 generation may not give him credit for so exalted a 
 purpose, the people who shall afterwards inherit this 
 romantic land will appreciate what could not have been 
 preserved but with a view to their gratification.' 
 
 The Picture of Scotland was followed in rapid suc- 
 cession by several works which still further extended 
 Robert's popularity as a writer. The quantity of literary 
 work of one kind or other which he went through 
 during some years at this period was astonishing, more 
 particularly when we know that he continued to give a 
 certain degree of attention daily to business. Indeed, 
 with all his love of letters, he by no means relied on his 
 efforts with the pen. He used to repeat a sage remark 
 of Scott, that literature is a good cane to walk with, but 
 not a staff to lean upon an observation too apt to be 
 neglected by young and inexperienced writers. 
 
 Archibald Constable, in his attempts to revive a 
 
I 9 2 MEMOIR. 
 
 publishing business after the catastrophe of 1825, 
 happily struck out the idea of a series of cheap popular 
 works, by which employment was found for a number 
 of persons with literary tastes and of tried ability. 
 Robert was one of the earliest so pressed into the 
 service of Constable's Miscellany. In 1828, appeared 
 his History of the Rebellion ^1745, in two volumes; at 
 the close of the same year was issued his History of the 
 Rebellions in Scotland under the Marquis of Montrose 
 and others from 1638/0 1660, in two volumes; this was 
 followed, in 1829, by a History of the Rebellions in Scot- 
 land under Viscount Dundee and the Earl of Mar in 
 1689 and 1715, in one volume ; and finally, in 1830, he 
 contributed the Life of James /, in two volumes. Such, 
 however, was not the entire amount of his literary 
 labour. Intermediately, he edited Scottish Ballads and 
 Songs, in three volumes (1829), and the Biography of 
 Distinguished Scotsmen, in four volumes. Besides which, 
 he furnished Mr Lockhart with a variety of valuable 
 notes for his Life of Robert Burns. 
 
 Of all these works, that which attained the greatest 
 and most enduring popularity was the History of the 
 Rebellion ^"1745, the materials for which were gathered 
 from the principal sources of information available in 
 1827. Several families, whose ancestors had been 
 compromised in the insurrection, obligingly furnished 
 traditional anecdotes for the work, which thereby 
 assumed a character considerably different from one 
 consisting of dry historical annals. While received with 
 general approbation, the History of the Rebellion, from 
 the feeling with which it was written, led to a notion 
 that it was the work of a Jacobite. Such seems to have 
 been the opinion of a writer in the Quarterly Review, 
 
HISTORY OF THE REBELLION. 193 
 
 who, in reviewing Lord Marion's History of England 
 (1839), refers to the 'many curious details, gleaned with 
 exemplary diligence, and presented in a lively enough 
 style,' in the histories of the rebellions of 1715 and 
 T 745> by 'Mr Robert Chambers, a bookseller and 
 antiquary of Edinburgh,' adding: 'His Jacobitism 
 seems that of a rampant Highlander; and we doubt 
 not, had he flourished at the proper time, he would 
 have handled his claymore gallantly ; nor are we at all 
 surprised to hear that he enjoys considerable popularity 
 among certain classes in Scotland ; but we cannot 
 anticipate that these historical performances will ever 
 obtain a place in the English library.' 
 
 To conclusions as to his supposed Jacobitism, my 
 brother made some demur. He declared that he ' dis- 
 approved of the insurrection of 1745, and held that it 
 undoubtedly was a crime to disturb with war, and to 
 some extent with rapine, a nation enjoying internal 
 peace under a settled government. But, on the other 
 hand, it was evident that those who followed Charles 
 Edward acted according to their lights, with heroic self- 
 devotion, and were not fairly liable to the vulgar ridicule 
 and vituperations thrown upon them by those whose 
 duty it was to resist and punish them. Accordingly, it 
 was just that the adventures of the persons concerned 
 should be detailed with impartiality, and their unavoid- 
 able misfortunes be spoken of with humane feeling.' 
 Such is the vindicatory remark he makes in a prefatory 
 note to the seventh edition of the work, issued as 
 lately as 1869; and in the present day, few will be 
 disposed to challenge the accuracy of this view of 
 the matter. Whether this historical performance has 
 obtained a place in what the reviewer is pleased to call 
 
 M 
 
194 MEMOIR. 
 
 1 the English library/ I am not prepared to say, further 
 than that, without adventitious aid, it has been very 
 extensively diffused in all parts of Great Britain, and 
 remains, to appearance, a generally received work on 
 the subject. 
 
 The new edition of the History just referred to has 
 been so greatly extended as to be almost a new work. 
 The prolific source of the fresh information that was 
 obtained, was a collection of ten volumes in manuscript, 
 styled on the title-pages the Lyon in Mourning, which 
 had been prepared by the anxious care of the Right 
 Rev. Bishop Forbes, of the Scottish Episcopal Church, 
 and who was settled as a minister of that communion in 
 Leith at the middle of the eighteenth century. Labouring 
 under the suspicion that he was a Jacobite dangerous 
 to the reigning dynasty, he was confined in Edinburgh 
 Castle during the rebellion, and only liberated in 1746. 
 By this means he was saved from the disasters of the 
 falling cause, and brought into leisurely communication 
 with a number of the insurgents, who were seized at 
 various times and placed in confinement along with him. 
 After regaining his liberty, Bishop Forbes prosecuted 
 the design of collecting from the mouths and pens of the 
 survivors of the late enterprise such narratives, anec- 
 dotes, and memorabilia as they could give from their 
 own knowledge, or as eye-witnesses, respecting this 
 extraordinary historical episode. The whole of the 
 trustworthy information so acquired was written on 
 octavo sheets, which in the end formed volumes ; and 
 nothing can exceed the neatness, distinctness, and 
 accuracy with which the whole task appears to have 
 been performed. In allusion to the woe of Scotland for 
 her exiled race of princes, the ten volumes composing 
 
L YON IN MOURNING. 195 
 
 the work were bound in black, and styled the Lyon in 
 Mourning. The poor bishop died in 1776, leaving the 
 collection to his widow, who, after many years, sold it 
 to Sir Henry Steuart of Allanton, who had been induced 
 to turn his attention to the subject ; and he commenced 
 a work designed to present a historical review of the 
 different attempts made to restore the Stewart family to 
 the throne. The work had been carried a certain length, 
 when it was interrupted by ill-health, and permanently 
 laid aside. On a visit to Allanton House in 1832, my 
 brother first heard of the Lyon, and was so fortunate as 
 to have it assigned to him for literary purposes. The 
 result (1834) was the Jacobite Memoirs of the Rebellion of 
 1745. But from the widespread information contained 
 in the collection, were drawn innumerable particulars of 
 a deeply interesting kind for the revised edition of the 
 History. 
 
 Between 1823 and 1835, Robert amused himself, and 
 gave relief to his feelings, by occasionally writing poetical 
 pieces, which he collected and printed in a volume for 
 private circulation. The following is one of these 
 effusions, purporting to be written July 1829, in refer- 
 ence to the very amiable young lady, Miss Anne 
 Kirkwood, whom he married in December of that year.* 
 
 THOU GENTLE AND KIND ONE. 
 
 ' Thou gentle and kind one, 
 
 Who com'st o'er my dreams 
 Like the gales of the west, 
 Or the music of streams ; 
 
 * December 7, 1829. Robert Chambers married to Anne Kirk- 
 wood, only child of the late John Kirkwood, Custom-house, 
 Glasgow. Newspaper notice. 
 
196 MEMOIR. 
 
 Oh softest and dearest, 
 
 Can that time e'er be, 
 When I could be forgetful 
 
 Or scornful of thee ? 
 
 No ! my soul might be dark, 
 
 Like a landscape in shade, 
 And for thee not the half 
 
 Of its love be displayed, 
 But one ray of thy kindness 
 
 Would banish my pain, 
 And soon kiss every feature 
 
 To brightness again. 
 
 And if, in contending 
 
 With men and the world, 
 My eye might be fierce 
 
 Or my brow might be curled ; 
 That brow on thy bosom 
 
 All smoothed would recline, 
 And that eye melt in kindness, 
 
 When turned upon thine. 
 
 If faithful in sorrow, 
 
 More faithful in joy 
 Thou shouldst find that no change 
 
 Could affection destroy ; 
 All profit, all pleasure 
 
 As nothing would be, 
 And each triumph despised, 
 
 Unpartaken by thee.' 
 
 Always ready to lend a helping hand to the pro- 
 motion of any literary object connected with his native 
 country, my brother, in 1830, contributed historical and 
 descriptive notices to a work styled the Picture of 
 Stirling. An opportunity was thereby afforded of 
 giving an account of an object formerly of national 
 importance, known as the ' Stirling Jug ' such having 
 
THE STIRLING JUG. I 97 
 
 been the legal standard for the old Scotch pint (equal to 
 about an English quart), which is referred to, as some 
 may perhaps think, rather too frequently in the verses of 
 Burns and others. As little is popularly known regarding 
 the history of the Stirling Jug, we may copy it for general 
 edification : 
 
 THE STIRLING JUG. 
 
 'By an act of the Scottish Parliament, in 1437, various 
 burghs in the Lowlands were appointed to keep the various 
 standard measures for liquid and dry goods, from which all 
 others throughout the country were to be taken. To Edin- 
 burgh was appointed the honour of keeping the standard 
 ell to Perth the reel to Lanark the pound to Linlithgow 
 the firlot and to Stirling the pint. This was a judicious 
 arrangement, both as it was calculated to prevent any 
 attempt at an extensive or general scheme of fraud, and 
 as the commodities, to which the different standards referred, 
 were supplied in the greatest abundance by the districts 
 and towns to whose care they were committed ; Edinburgh 
 being then the principal market for cloth, Perth for yarn, 
 Lanark for wool, Linlithgow for grain, and Stirling for 
 distilled and fermented liquors. The pint measure, popu- 
 larly called the Stirling Jug, is still kept with great care in 
 the town where it was first deposited four hundred years 
 ago. It is made of brass, in the shape of a hollow cone 
 
 truncated The handle is fixed with two brass nails ; 
 
 and the whole has an appearance of rudeness, quite proper 
 to the early age when it was first instituted by the Scottish 
 Estates, as the standard of liquid measure for this ancient 
 bacchanalian kingdom. It will be interesting to all votaries 
 of antiquity to know, that this vessel, which may in some 
 measure be esteemed a national palladium, was rescued, 
 about eighty years ago, from the fate of being utterly lost, 
 to which all circumstances for some time seemed to destine 
 it The person whom we have to thank for this good 
 service, was the Reverend Alexander Bryce, minister of 
 
I 9 S MEMOIR. 
 
 Kirknewton, near Edinburgh, a man of scientific and literary 
 accomplishment much superior to what was displayed by 
 the generality of the clergy of his day. Mr Bryce (who had 
 taught the mathematical class in the college of Edinburgh, 
 during the winter of 1745-6, instead of the eminent Mac- 
 laurin, who was then on his deathbed) happened to visit 
 Stirling in the year 1750; when, recollecting that the 
 standard pint jug was appointed to remain in that town, 
 he requested permission from the magistrates to see it. 
 The magistrates conducted him to their council-house, where 
 a pewter pint jug was taken down from the roof, whence it 
 was suspended, and presented to him. After a careful 
 examination, he was convinced that this could not be the 
 legal standard. He communicated his opinion to the 
 magistrates ; but they were equally ignorant of the loss 
 which the town had sustained, and indisposed to take any 
 trouble for the purpose of retrieving it. It excited very 
 different feelings in the acute and inquiring mind of Dr 
 Bryce; and, resolved, if possible, to recover the valuable 
 antique, he immediately instituted a search ; which, though 
 conducted with much patient industry for about a twelve- 
 month, proved, to his great regret, unavailing. In 1752, it 
 occurred to him that the standard jug might have been 
 borrowed by some of the coppersmiths or braziers, for the 
 purpose of making legal measures for the citizens, and, by 
 some chance, not returned. Having been informed that a 
 person of this description, named Urquhart, had joined 
 the insurgent forces in 1745 that, on his not returning, his 
 furniture and shop utensils had been brought to sale and 
 that various articles, which had not been sold, were thrown 
 into a garret as useless, a gleam of hope darted into his 
 mind, and he eagerly went to make the proper investiga- 
 tion. Accordingly, in that obscure garret, buried under- 
 neath a mass of lumber, he discovered the precious object 
 of his research. 
 
 'Thus was discovered the only standard, by special 
 statute, of all liquid and dry measure in Scotland, after it 
 
SCOTTISH JESTS. 199 
 
 had been offered for sale at perhaps the cheap and easy 
 price of one penny, rejected as unworthy of that little sum, 
 and subsequently thrown by as altogether useless ; and 
 many years after it had been considered, by its constitu- 
 tional guardians, as irretrievably lost For his "good 
 services" in recovering the Stirling Jug, Mr Bryce was pre- 
 sented with the freedom of the city of Edinburgh, January 
 1754-' 
 
 Towards the close of 1831, Robert made what many 
 may think a bold attempt in literature. It was, by a 
 collection of sayings and anecdotes, 'to vindicate, for 
 the first time, the pretensions of the Scottish nation to 
 the character of a witty and jocular, as they are already 
 allowed to be a painstaking and enlightened, race.' 
 The book, styled Scottish Jests and Anecdotes, certainly 
 contained a prodigious array of good things, collected 
 from all imaginable sources, including personal expe- 
 rience in general society. It being the first attempt of 
 the kind, the editor says he felt as if * entitled to some 
 share of that praise which is so liberally bestowed upon 
 discoverers like Cook and Parry, and might expect to 
 be celebrated in after-ages as the first man who extended 
 the geography of Fun beyond the Tweed.' The work 
 was pretty well received, and went through two editions ; 
 after which, dropping out of notice, it was left for the 
 Very Rev. Dean Ramsay to take up the subject in that 
 more earnest spirit which has insured a great share of 
 public approbation. 
 
 That my brother had any merit in discovering that 
 the Scotch are a 'witty' people, will be doubted by 
 those who think them incapable of getting beyond 
 a certain species of dry and caustic humour. One 
 thing certainly remarkable in all works purporting to 
 
200 MEMOIR. 
 
 be collections of Scottish jests and anecdotes, is the 
 abundance of droll sayings and doings of parish 
 ministers, beadles, and old serving-men. As a specimen 
 of what Robert collected of this nature, we may give an 
 anecdote referring to what he calls 
 
 THE UNLUCKY PRESENT. 
 
 'A Lanarkshire minister (who died within the present 
 century) was one of those unhappy persons, who, to use 
 the words of a well-known Scottish adage, " can never see 
 green cheese but their een reels." He was extremely 
 covetous, and that not only of nice articles of food, but of 
 many other things which do not generally excite the 
 cupidity of the human heart. Being on a visit, one day, at 
 the house of one of his parishioners, a poor lonely widow, 
 living in a moorland part of the parish, he became fascin- 
 ated by the charms of a little cast-iron pot, which happened, 
 at the time, to be lying on the hearth, full of potatoes for 
 the poor woman's dinner, and that of her children. He 
 had never, in his life, seen such a nice little pot it was a 
 perfect conceit of a thing it was a gem no pot on earth 
 could match it in symmetry it was an object altogether 
 perfectly lovely. "Dear sake! minister," said the widow, 
 quite overpowered by the reverend man's commendations 
 of her pot ; " if ye like the pot sae weel as a' that, I beg 
 ye '11 let me send it to the manse. It's a kind o' orra" 
 [superfluous] "pot wi' us; for we've a bigger ane, that 
 we use for ordinar, and that 's mair convenient every way 
 for us. Sae ye '11 just tak a present o't. I'll send it ower 
 the morn wi' Jamie, when he gangs to the schule." " Oh !" 
 said the minister, " I can by no means permit you to be at 
 so much trouble. Since you are so good as to give me 
 the pot, I '11 just carry it home with me in my hand. I 'm 
 so much taken with it, indeed, that I would really prefer 
 carrying it myself." After much altercation between the 
 minister and the widow on this delicate point of politeness, 
 it was agreed that he should carry home the pot himself. 
 
THE UNLUCKY PRESENT. 201 
 
 'Off then he trudged, bearing this curious little culinary 
 article, alternately in his hand and under his arm, as seemed 
 most convenient to him. Unfortunately, the day was warm, 
 the way long, and the minister fat ; so that he became 
 heartily tired of his burden before he got half-way home. 
 In these distressing circumstances, it struck him, that if, 
 instead of carrying the pot awkwardly at one side of his 
 person, he were to carry it on his head, the burden would 
 be greatly lightened. Accordingly, doffing his hat, which 
 he resolved to carry home in his hand, and having applied 
 his handkerchief to his brow, he placed the pot, in inverted 
 fashion, upon his head. There was, at first, much relief 
 and much comfort in this new mode of carrying the pot : 
 but mark the result. The unfortunate minister having 
 taken a by-path, to escape observation, found himself, 
 when still a good way from home, under the necessity of 
 leaping over a ditch, which intercepted him, in passing 
 from one field to another. He jumped ; but, unfortunately, 
 the concussion given to his person in descending, caused the 
 helmet to become a hood ; the pot slipped down over his 
 face, and resting with the rim upon his neck, there stuck fast. 
 What was worst of all, the nose, which had permitted the 
 pot to slip down over it, withstood every desperate attempt, 
 on the part of its proprietor, to make it slip back again ; 
 the contracted part, or neck, of the pot being of such a 
 peculiar formation as to cling fast to the base of the nose, 
 although it had found no difficulty in gliding downwardly 
 over it. Was ever minister in a worse plight? What 
 was to be done ? The place was lonely ; the way difficult 
 and dangerous ; human relief was remote, almost beyond 
 reach. It was impossible even to cry for help; or, if 
 a cry could be uttered, it would not travel twelve inches 
 in any direction. To add to the distresses of the case, 
 the unhappy sufferer soon found great difficulty in breath- 
 ing. What with the heat occasioned by the beating of 
 the sun on the metal, and what with the frequent return 
 of the same heated air to his lungs, he was in the utmost 
 
202 MEMOIR. 
 
 danger of suffocation. Everything considered, it seemed 
 likely that, if he did not chance to be relieved by some 
 accidental wayfarer, there would soon be death in the pot. 
 
 'The instinctive love of life, however, is omni-prevalent. 
 Pressed by the urgency of his distresses, the poor minister 
 fortunately recollected that there was a smith's shop at the 
 distance of about a mile across the fields, which if he 
 could reach, he might possibly find relief. Deprived of 
 his eyesight, he acted only as a man of feeling, and went 
 on as cautiously as he could, with his hat in his hand. 
 Half crawling, half sliding, over ridge and furrow, ditch 
 and hedge, the unhappy minister travelled, with all possible 
 speed, as nearly as he could guess, in the direction of the 
 place of refuge. I leave it to the reader to conceive the 
 surprise, the mirth, the infinite amusement of the black- 
 smith, and all the hangers-on of the smiddy, when, at 
 length, torn and worn, faint and exhausted, blind and 
 breathless, the unfortunate man arrived at the place, and 
 let them know (rather by signs than by words) the circum- 
 stances of his case. 
 
 * The merriment of the people who assembled soon gave 
 way to considerations of humanity. Ludicrous as was the 
 minister, with such an object where his head should have 
 been, and with the feet of the pot pointing upwards, it was 
 necessary that he should be speedily restored to his ordinary 
 condition, if it were for no other reason than that he might 
 continue to live. He was, accordingly, at his own request, 
 led into the smithy, by-standers flocking around to tender 
 him their kindest offices, or to witness the process of 
 release ; and, having laid down his head upon the anvil, 
 the smith lost no time in seizing and poising his goodly 
 forehammer. "Will I come sair on, minister?" exclaimed 
 the considerate man of iron in at the brink of the pot. "As 
 sair as ye like," was the minister's answer ; "better a chap 
 i' the chafts than die for want of breath." Thus permitted, 
 the man let fall a blow, which fortunately broke the pot in 
 pieces, without hurting the head which it enclosed, and 
 
JOHN M'DIARMID. 203 
 
 a few minutes of the clear air restored the unfortunate 
 minister, who, it may hardly be said, did not try any more 
 pleasantries such as we have described.' 
 
 We have not yet completed the review of literary 
 work in which Robert was engaged from about 1829 
 to 1832. Busied as he was, he undertook the editor- 
 ship of the Edinburgh Advertiser, a newspaper of old 
 standing, as well as an old sty^ of politics, that has 
 been latterly discontinued. In the pages of the 
 Advertiser, at this period, are seen evidences of his 
 literary tastes. A notice appears of Sketches of Nature, 
 a work of the late John M'Diarmid, editor of the Dum- 
 fries Courier, and in it is given an anecdote which I 
 have heard my brother gleefully relate in the family 
 circle. 
 
 'MrMTHarmid is one of those ingenious writers who gather 
 a fund of information by the means recommended by Sir 
 Walter Scott in the Waverley Novels. Whenever he falls 
 in with a stranger, he studies to learn what is his trade or 
 bent of his mind. It does not matter who he is ; he may 
 be a nabob from India, or a saddler from Annan that is all 
 one. Within an hour, he has got everything out of him 
 worth knowing. This practice is incessant and invariable 
 on the part of the ingenious editor. To prove that it is 
 so, we may mention an anecdote. Our lot was once so 
 cast as to travel a week with M'Diarmid through Galloway. 
 One evening, at the inn of Glenluce, we had occasion to 
 wait till midnight, that we might be taken up by the mail, 
 which was to carry us on to Stranraer. Between ten and 
 eleven, we felt so much fatigued that we stretched our 
 length upon a sofa, and took an hour's sleep. While we 
 were so occupied, our indefatigable companion strolled into 
 the kitchen, where a miscellaneous group of travellers and 
 villagers was assembled around a blazing fire ; in particular, 
 
204 MEMOIR. 
 
 there was one person present, a poor wayworn being, who, in 
 his youth, had been a cork-cutter. To him M'Diarmid forth- 
 with attached himself in the way described, and the result 
 was, that, after we were seated in the mail, on the way to 
 Stranraer, he boasted of having, while we were enjoying our 
 inglorious sleep, made himself master of " the whole statistics 
 of cork- cutting ! " ' 
 
 Between Sir Walter Scott and my brother personal 
 intercourse had now teased, for the great novelist was 
 a confirmed invalid at Abbotsford. Letters, however, 
 passed between them, as is observable from Robert's 
 private papers, sometimes in reference to literary 
 matters, and on other occasions concerning the intro- 
 ductions of strangers. A Miss MacLaughlin, with 
 musical acquirements, having visited Edinburgh, be- 
 sought for herself and her mother an introduction to Sir 
 Walter, which being granted, the following letter was 
 shortly afterwards received, dated from Abbotsford, 
 March 7, 1831. 
 
 'Mv DEAR MR CHAMBERS I was quite happy to see 
 Miss MacLaughlin, who is a fine enthusiastic girl, and very, 
 very pretty withal. They that is, her mother and she 
 breakfasted with me, though I had what is unusual at 
 Abbotsford, no female assistance. However, we got on 
 very well ; and I prepared the young lady a set of words to 
 the air of Crochallan. But although Miss M. proposed to 
 leave me a copy of the Celtic harmonies, I suppose the 
 servant put it in her carriage. Purdie is the publisher. 
 Will you get me a copy of the number containing Crochallan^ 
 with a prose translation by a competent person, and let me 
 know the expense ? 
 
 ' I fear I cannot be of use to you in the way you propose, 
 though I sincerely rejoice in your success, and would gladly 
 promote it ; but Dr Abercrombie threatens me with death 
 
LETTERS FROM SCOTT. 205 
 
 if I write so much. I must assist Lockhart a little, for you 
 are aware of our connection, and he has always shewn me 
 the duties of a son ; but except that, and my own necessary 
 work at the edition of the Waverley Novels, as they call 
 them, I can hardly pretend to be a contributor, for, after 
 all, that same dying is a ceremony one would put off as long 
 as he could. ... I am, dear Mr Chambers, very faithfully 
 yours, WALTER SCOTT.' 
 
 The next letter received, which has the date Abbots- 
 ford, August 2, 1831, bears a melancholy record of Sir 
 Walter's growing bodily weakness. 
 
 'DEAR MR CHAMBERS I received your letter through 
 Mr Cadell. It is impossible for a gentleman to say no to a 
 request which flatters him more than he deserves. But 
 even although it is said in the newspapers, I actually am 
 far from well. I am keeping my head as cool as I can, and 
 speak with some difficulty ; but I am unwilling to make a 
 piece of work about nothing, and instead of doing so, I 
 ought rather to receive the lady as civilly as I can. I am 
 much out, riding, or rather crawling about my plantations 
 in the morning, when the weather will permit ; but a card 
 from Miss Eccles will find me at home, and happy to see 
 her, although the effect is like to be disappointment to the 
 lady. I am your faithful, humble servant. 
 
 4 1 have -owed you a letter longer than I intended ; but I 
 write with pain, and generally use the hand of a friend. I 
 sign with my initials, as enough to represent the poor half 
 of me that is left, but am still much yours, W. S.' 
 
 This appears to have been the last letter received by 
 my brother from Sir Walter Scott 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SOME REMINISCENCES 1822 TO 1832. 
 
 OBERT'S success with the Traditions, and my own 
 progress in the new field I had selected, left 
 nothing to regret. The ' Dark Ages ' had vanished into 
 the dim past. The medieval period had dawned. 
 There was no longer a fierce skirmishing with diffi- 
 culties, but there was much less drollery. As men get 
 up in the world they, as a rule, take on the gravity 
 which by immemorial usage pertains to what are called 
 the respectable classes. They are likewise apt to part 
 convoy with a number of individuals who have hitherto 
 kept within hail. The reason is plain. Each, from 
 choice, pursues his own peculiar course. Mankind 
 are roughly divided, in unequal proportions, into two 
 sets those who consume day by day all they can lay 
 their hands on, thinking no more of what is to be their 
 fate in a year or ten years hence than the lower animals; 
 others a much less numerous body who are always 
 looking ahead and acting with less or more regard to 
 the future. What impressive examples one could 
 produce of these differences of taste ! Two young men, 
 of good education, start in life with pretty equal chances 
 of success. One of them rises by gradations to be 
 
SOME REMINISCENCES. 207 
 
 Lord Chancellor: where do we find the other? Seated 
 with his back to the wall, drawing figures in red and 
 white chalk on a smooth piece of pavement, in the 
 hope of retiring to his evening haunt with the sum of 
 half-a-crown in sixpences and halfpence, to be spent 
 probably in the felicity of a carouse. That, we may 
 presume, is the line of life he has deliberately preferred. 
 He had worked for beggary, and he has got it. When 
 a man will make no sacrifice of his pleasures, but sets 
 his heart on freshly beginning the world every day, or 
 every week, it is not difficult to do so. The facility 
 with which the thing can be done explains much of 
 what seems to perplex society and drive it almost to its 
 wits' end. 
 
 In the strange complication of human affairs, luck, no 
 doubt, counts for something ; but have we properly con- 
 sidered what is luck ? Surely, the business of life cannot 
 be said to be conducted on the hap-hazard principles 
 of a game of roulette ! Is there no pre-arrangement 
 no Providential design leading by a series of circum- 
 stances to results which have been hitherto shrouded 
 from our finite intelligence? To be lucky, as it is 
 called, one requires to make some reasonably strenuous 
 exertion probably to make some unpleasant sacri- 
 fices. Erskine might not, perhaps, have risen to be 
 Lord Chancellor but for the fortunate sprain which 
 caused him hastily to relinquish an intended visit, 
 and return home, where he was waited on by a worthy 
 old maritime gentleman, whose intricate case he took 
 up, mastered, and carried through triumphantly. But 
 we must bear in mind that he had, by previous and toil- 
 some exertion, and no little self-sacrifice, prepared him- 
 self to benefit by the fortunate accident which brought 
 
2o8 MEMOIR. 
 
 him into notice.* It is a pity that one has to make so 
 many sacrifices of inclinations to thole a good deal 
 possibly to relinquish some amusements in order to 
 attain anything like permanent comfort; but so it is, and 
 ever will be. When my brother and I got emancipated 
 from the Dark Ages, it was our fate to proceed on a 
 course wholly different from that which several persons 
 we had known were pleased to pursue. Their policy 
 being to live all for the present, and not for the future, 
 we went naturally in opposite directions. Apparently 
 wishing to end as they began, they spent daily or weekly 
 all they earned, and were ever at the same point of 
 progress. They doubtless, however, enjoyed themselves 
 to their own satisfaction, and there we must leave them. 
 
 Relaxing no effort, five to six years had effected a 
 beneficial change of circumstances. We were both, in 
 a sense, raised to a higher platform, and had, indeed, 
 reached that social status, if not something above it, 
 which had been lost by the family calamity of 1812. 
 It seemed as if the gales of fortune were at length about 
 to blow steadily in our favour, without disturbance 
 from any cross-current. We were not, however, to be 
 let off so easily. Fate had one more trial in reserve. 
 
 My father had come to live in Edinburgh. Afflicted 
 with dreary recollections, sometimes half-distracted, and 
 ready to catch at delusive hopes, he plunged into pro- 
 ceedings which I can only refer to with any degree of 
 patience, from the insight which they afforded of new 
 and diverting phases of character. Among his dreams 
 of the past, he raked up the fancy of trying to recover a 
 piece of property, which had long ago belonged to the 
 
 * Campbell's Lives of the Chancellors. 
 
A LEGAL ORACLE. 209 
 
 family, but had somehow been suffered to drift, im- 
 properly, as was alleged, into other hands. The 
 property in question was a wretched old house, perhaps 
 not worth ^200, and the proposal of fighting for it in 
 the Court of Session was repugnant alike to my brother's 
 feelings and my own. Unfortunately, any remonstrances 
 on our part, and also strong objections urged by my 
 mother, were unavailing. The suit was commenced, and 
 its history might almost furnish materials for a tragi- 
 comic drama. 
 
 The prime adviser in the case was a person who, from 
 his reputed knowledge of law, was held in high esteem 
 by certain classes of people. He was a neat little man, 
 in drab breeches and white woollen stockings, who 
 laboured under the infirmity of a stiff crooked knee, on 
 which account he walked very oddly, by successive 
 jerks, with the help of a stick. Having been bred in 
 the office of a country solicitor, this erudite person had 
 formed an acquaintance with legal forms and techni- 
 calities, and adding to this a theoretic knowledge of 
 Scotch law from Erskine's Institutes, he was qualified, as 
 many thought, for acting as counsel to those who stood 
 in need of legal advice. With his acquirements, it was 
 perhaps only as an act of considerable condescension 
 that he made his living as a dealer in wines, spirits, 
 and other articles, in an inferior part of the city. As 
 a friend of the oppressed, the little man had much 
 pleasure in bestowing his knowledge of the law, gratis. 
 He took no fees. All he expected from those who 
 favoured him with their company in his pleasant back- 
 room was, that they would pay for what liquor they 
 thought fit to call for, and that certainly was not 
 unreasonable. 
 
 N 
 
210 MEMOIR. 
 
 The fame of this legal oracle travelled beyond the 
 narrow precincts of the locality. His renown as a 
 gossip on legal and other matters attracted the occa- 
 sional visits of a club of convivialists, who were in the 
 habit of spending an hour or two daily in discussing 
 public affairs over some inspiriting liquid delicacies. 
 These assemblages, wherever they happened to be held, 
 were greatly more amusing than gatherings of this kind 
 usually are, for they were open to all who, with a little 
 time at their disposal, could add to the hilarity of the 
 company. The meetings were sometimes honoured 
 with the presence of certain officials from the Excise 
 Office, whose duties, consisting mainly of drawing 
 their salaries and reading the morning's newspaper, 
 admitted of this kind of recreation. Among this set 
 there were two or three who shone as stars of the first 
 magnitude. It is true, they related the same jokes 
 perhaps daily for years, but as the sederunt was a 
 variable body, and as it was a standing rule in this 
 club of convivialists to laugh at every whimsicality, no 
 matter how often repeated, the old jokes were always as 
 good as new. 
 
 One of these assiduous government officials whose 
 presence was always peculiarly acceptable, was a Mr 
 Moffat, a genteelish middle-aged personage, with a red 
 nose, dressed in a white neckcloth and a blue coat with 
 yellow metal buttons, and who was always licking his 
 lips, as if he had just partaken of some delicious repast. 
 He had one story about himself, which he was ordinarily 
 called on to relate : 
 
 ' By the by, Mr Moffat, that was a curious anecdote 
 you told us one day about the Board of Excise ; I am 
 sure the gentlemen present would like to hear it.' 
 
MR M OFF AT. 211 
 
 'Oh, by all means; if I can remember it rightly.' 
 Then brightening up, taking a sip at his potation, and 
 licking his lips with more than usual vehemence, he 
 would proceed. 
 
 ' Well, gentlemen, you must know, I was one day in 
 my room at the office. It was a busy day with me. I 
 had to sign several papers brought to me by Grubb. 
 After that was over, when I was just sitting down to 
 the newspaper, a message was brought, requiring my 
 presence at the Board. I could not imagine why I 
 was sent for. Surely, thinks I, it cannot be on account 
 of going out a few minutes daily for necessary refresh- 
 ments. However, there was no time to consider. So 
 off I went to the Board-room, trusting to put as good 
 a face on the matter as possible. Well, to be sure, 
 there were the whole of the Commissioners a very 
 full meeting that day seated around the table covered 
 with green cloth, each of them with fresh pens and 
 sheets of paper before him, as if about to take down a 
 deposition. I am going to be pulled up, thinks I. 
 Things certainly looked very bad. My feelings were 
 a little calmed when the chairman a polite man, 
 exceedingly so requested me, in a softened and 
 pleasant tone of voice, to take a chair near him. Well, 
 gentlemen, I sat down accordingly, making a bow to 
 the Board. The chairman then addressed me. "Mr 
 Moffat, the Commissioners have had a great difficulty 
 under their consideration. It is a thing of no small 
 importance, for it concerns the interest of the Depart- 
 ment. Some of the Commissioners incline to one view 
 of the matter, and some to another. In short, not to 
 keep you in suspense, that which puzzles the Board is 
 the pronunciation of a word a very important word ; 
 
212 MEMOIR. 
 
 not, indeed, that I am puzzled, for my mind is clear 
 upon the subject. To settle the matter definitely, we 
 appeal to you. Knowing your scholarly acquirements, 
 and more particularly your acquaintance with the drama 
 and the correct elocution of the stage, we have agreed 
 to abide by your decision." Here, of course, I again 
 bowed. " Yes," continued the chairman, " we put our- 
 selves into your hands. To be perfectly fair, I will 
 not utter the word, but write it down, letter by letter, 
 thus : 
 
 R-e-v-e-n-u-e, 
 
 and leave you to determine how it should be pro- 
 nounced." I felt honoured. I had for years studied the 
 word. I had made up my mind about it. Bowing once 
 more to the Board, and turning towards the chairman, I 
 said : " Sir, I feel the importance of the occasion. That 
 word is certainly a very important word. It is a word 
 in which the whole nation has a very great interest. 
 Knowing especially its value to the Department, I have 
 for years made it my study, and will state the opinion 
 at which I have arrived. The common or vulgar pro- 
 nunciation of the word is Re'venue ; but that is decidedly 
 incorrect. The true pronunciation, which / hold by, 
 is that of John Kemble ; namely, Reven'ue a heavy 
 emphasis to be laid on the n." Instantly, there was a 
 shout of applause from various members of the Board, 
 and the chairman, who was vastly pleased, said to me 
 most emphatically : " Thank you, Mr Moffat j you and 
 I must eat mutton together ! " ' 
 
 Influenced by frequent and animated consultations 
 with the smart little man with the crooked knee, and 
 convinced that he had Erskine on his side, my father 
 
THE LAW-SUIT. 213 
 
 passed into the hands of an habitue of the back-room, 
 a man of advanced age, who wore a brown duffel great- 
 coat and a low-crowned hat, whose function consisted 
 in bringing cases to certain practitioners before the 
 supreme courts. I saw him once or twice. In char- 
 acter and appearance he reminded me of the miserable 
 order of professionals whom I had seen in the Old 
 Tolbooth. His coarse features possessed the singular 
 faculty of appearing to smile in the lower department, 
 while they were grave and thoughtful above; the line 
 of division of the two expressions being across from the 
 point of the nose. My father was introduced by this 
 legal jackal to an operator in whom he said he had 
 every confidence ; having first assured himself that there 
 were persons behind backs who would be good for the 
 expenses. At this time, there were practitioners in 
 Edinburgh well qualified in the art of fleecing. One of 
 them was known in the Parliament House under the 
 jocose name of Pillage, while another of the same 
 category was called Plunder. Each had a son who 
 helped in his father's business, and hence people 
 pleasantly spoke of Old Pillage and Young Pillage, and 
 Old Plunder and Young Plunder. Both firms were 
 believed to be one concern. They were in some sort 
 a confederacy, which, through the devices of scouts, like 
 the gentleman in the brown duffel greatcoat and low- 
 crowned hat, procured the conducting of cases pro and 
 con; and they would jointly so manage matters through 
 a dragged-out process, for which the forms of court 
 offered opportunities, that the respective litigants did 
 not get a final decision till not another shilling could be 
 wrung from them. 
 
 In the present unhappy case, the end came with more 
 
214 MEMOIR. 
 
 than usual celerity, for means soon ran dry. As we had 
 all foreseen, my father lost his lawsuit. Then came the 
 matter of costs, and my brother and I were (as was 
 thought reasonable) looked to for payment. It was a 
 thing we had nothing to do with, but that made no 
 difference. As many too well know, there is in family 
 relationship a power of moral torture which reaches far 
 beyond the bounds of legal obligation. 
 
 I am to be imagined as being occupied at a desk 
 preparing a piece of literary work, for which I was to 
 receive a few pounds. A person of shabby appearance 
 enters, and on turning towards him as a customer, I am 
 speedily undeceived as to his character. 
 
 * I am sent, sir, to say that your father wishes to see 
 you as soon as possible. You '11 find him at the house 
 of Mr Fisher, No. 46 George Street, top of the stair; 
 door on the right-hand side.' 
 
 'What does he want with me?' I inquired. 
 
 ' That you '11 learn when you see him, and you had 
 better make haste.' So saying, off went the bird of evil 
 omen, leaving on my mind a heavy sense of coming 
 misfortune. 
 
 Arriving at the house so clearly indicated, I am 
 respectfully ushered by the obliging Mr Fisher into a 
 room, where my father is seated on a sofa in a state of 
 philosophic composure, although he knew himself to be 
 in the grasp of the law. Fisher, who, I immediately 
 perceive, is a sheriff-officer, politely asks me to sit down, 
 and proceeds to explain the matter in hand. 
 
 * I am sorry to tell you, Mr Chambers, that it has been 
 my unpleasant duty to take your father into custody 
 on a caption issued on a charge of horning for a debt 
 of thirty-five pounds thirteen shillings and fourpence. 
 
THE SHERIFF-OFFICER. 215 
 
 I should like very ill to take him to prison, and am 
 instructed to set him at liberty on your giving me a 
 short-dated bill for the amount. I will leave you, how- 
 ever, to talk over the affair.' And so, exit Fisher. 
 
 My father and I sat opposite each other. For a few 
 moments, neither of us spoke. Leaning on a table, 
 with my hand pressed to my forehead, I was in a state 
 of mental agony, and unable to open my lips. A crowd 
 of terrible recollections rushed through my brain my 
 father's repeated disasters, all caused by his own folly ; 
 the distresses and humiliations he had brought on his 
 family ; his preachings to his sons about independence, 
 and the gratitude due to him for not doing anything for 
 them ; my own struggles to get my head above water ; 
 most distracting of all, my mother's heroic exertions, her 
 heavy trials, her lady-like mien under all circumstances, 
 and what she must feel at this fresh degradation ! 
 
 In a placid tone of voice, my father broke the silence. 
 * Well, Willie, it 's rather an awkward business ; but I 
 did all for the best. You can, of course, help me ? I 
 daresay you have saved a little money.' 
 
 'Yes,' I replied, 'I have a trifle; but it is all needed 
 to pay some accounts immediately coming due, and my 
 character depends on punctuality.' 
 
 I arose in perturbation, and walked through the room. 
 The idea of my father being taken to prison not 
 to the homely old Tolbooth, which had long since 
 vanished, but the modern fortress on the Calton Hill, 
 with its frigid statutory arrangements was unendurable. 
 My own name the good name of the family for 
 hundreds of years back was compromised. My poor 
 mother, too ! The thought of her was maddening. 
 Crushing all personal considerations, I rang for Fisher; 
 
216 MEMOIR. 
 
 gave him the required document ; and had the satisfac- 
 tion of seeing my father walk down-stairs, for the time, 
 a freed man. I say for the time, because this was only 
 the beginning of a series of harassing demands arising 
 out of that idiotic law-plea, which my father persisted to 
 the last in declaring had been undertaken purely for the 
 benefit of his family ! Money that I could ill spare was 
 swept away, and Robert lost a large part of what he 
 had realised by the Traditions. These losses kept us 
 back one or two years. Literature abounds in instances, 
 comic and tragic, of fathers being pulled down by sons. 
 Wonderfully little is said of the many ingenious ways in 
 which sons and daughters are pulled down by fathers ! 
 
 It was about this time that the family renewed 
 acquaintance with a clerical functionary, who, through 
 his wife, was somehow, in a remote degree, related to 
 us. I recollected seeing him among the habitual visitors 
 of the Tolbooth, where, with the reputation of being 
 a worthy man, who had been unfortunate in life, and 
 always took a lenient view of human infirmities, he was 
 held in general esteem. He held the office of Morning 
 Lecturer in one of the city churches, an antiquated bene- 
 fice in the gift of the magistrates and council. His duty 
 was to preach early in the Sunday mornings, for which 
 he received some thirty pounds a year. Since 1639, 
 when the office was instituted by the bequest of David 
 Mackall, a pious citizen, the fancy for going to church 
 before breakfast had so greatly fallen off that the 
 congregation consisted usually of only the precentor, 
 and a respectable spinster of middle age, who occupied 
 a floor in the Lawnmarket, and who, of all the inhabit- 
 ants of Edinburgh, appreciated the Morning Lecturer 
 for his discourses. 
 
THE MORNING LECTURER. 217 
 
 To judge from his bulk, gravity of aspect, and taste- 
 fully powdered white hair, this amiable divine might 
 have stood high in ecclesiastical matters. Of no point 
 in his personal appearance, however, was he so proud 
 as his nails. These nails of his, as everybody soon 
 learned from his wife, were a singularly precious inherit- 
 ance. They had come into his family a long time ago 
 through his great-grandmother, an heiress, who had 
 married, her friends thought, beneath her. In some 
 of her descendants, ' the nails ' cast up, and in others 
 they did not. Our friend was one of the lucky 
 owners ; and with this handsome token of aristocracy, 
 as also a certain solemnity of features, his parents 
 resolved to make him a minister. Not very fortunate 
 in his career, it was well for him that he could 
 derive some consolation from the points of his fingers, 
 seeing that the support of a family and the rent of a 
 dwelling in an upper floor had to be encountered, 
 with no more to depend on in the regular course of 
 things than the small salary assigned to him by the 
 civic corporation. As to that salary, it was the Morning 
 Lecturer's fixed opinion that he was shamefully cheated. 
 He always maintained that the magistrates and council 
 had grossly misappropriated Mackall's bequest, and 
 that, if he had his due, he should, at the very least, 
 have a thousand a year. Before his face, people con- 
 doled with him about his misusage; but, excepting 
 perhaps the aforesaid spinster, no one actually thought 
 him to be underpaid. 
 
 So long as the Old Tolbooth lasted, the lecturer 
 possessed a pleasant forenoon resort, where there was 
 always something doing in the way of general con- 
 viviality. Mingling in the festivities of the West 
 
2i3 MEMOIR. 
 
 Enders, he was in reality among friends and customers 
 whom he served in the clerical line of business. For 
 years, he had managed to eke out his means of liveli- 
 hood, by baptising the children of persons who did not 
 claim membership with any of the ordinary congrega- 
 tions, and who had a special dislike to answering 
 troublesome questions. His flock, in this respect, were 
 a scattered body all over the Old Town, but with a 
 certain density about the Fleshmarket Close and the 
 head of the Canongate. 
 
 In undertaking jobs for his employers, this accom- 
 modating divine preferred visiting them at their own 
 homes in the evening, at which time, under the blaze 
 of candle-light, and with the mellowing influence of 
 supper, the heart is more beneficently inclined than 
 during the day. It being contrary to rule in Scotland 
 to receive fees for religious solemnities, this poor clergy- 
 man resorted to a device, which for a time mitigated the 
 distresses of the household. The Being who tempers 
 the wind to the shorn lamb, gave him a child, who was 
 for a time the daily provider of his family. This child, 
 Bobby, was a boy in petticoats, who had the misfortune 
 to have a bad squint, but by raising emotions of com- 
 passion, the squint was rather a good thing than other- 
 wise. As soon as Bobby was able to toddle about, he 
 invariably accompanied papa on his baptismal excur- 
 sions. Before setting out, his mother provided him 
 with a small but conspicuous pocket of coloured silk, 
 which she hung outside his dress, ready for receiving 
 any money-present which might be munificently slipped 
 into it, in requital of the religious ordinance that was 
 performed. 
 
 It was an interesting thing to see the pair, father and 
 
BOBBY. 219 
 
 child, sally out, after the street-lamps were lit, on a 
 mission to the foot of some long dingy close, and there 
 to climb up some long crooked stair ; the father stump- 
 ing on in his faded tartan cloak, with his cane in one 
 hand, and holding Bobby with the other both gleeful 
 of what would possibly be deposited in that pretty little 
 pocket, and of what pleasure there would be in taking 
 it home to mamma. Bobby relished these expeditions 
 into the by-corners of the city, although the long dark 
 stairs were almost too much for his little legs ; and 
 when kept late he was apt to get sleepy. But he was 
 usually treated to something nice by the hostess, and 
 had the satisfaction at departure of finding a crown- 
 piece occasionally half-a-guinea, wrapped in a piece of 
 paper lying at the bottom of his pocket, about which 
 there was not a little sprightly talk on the way home. 
 
 I heard the Morning Lecturer speak of a frightful 
 piece of villainy that had been perpetrated on Bobby, 
 amounting, as he thought, to worse than sacrilege. 
 On one occasion, the reward slipped into the child's 
 pocket was a coin wrapped in paper, which, on inspec- 
 tion at a street-lamp, proved to be only a farthing ; a 
 circumstance which we may take as indicating the class 
 of persons to whom these spiritual services were occa- 
 sionally rendered. On the whole, the produce of the 
 child's wallet for several years kept the wolf from the 
 door ; and it was a great grief to the family that Bobby 
 at length grew too big for petticoats, and also too big 
 to be taken uninvited to baptisms. What with the 
 removal of that dear old haunt, the Tolbooth, and 
 afterwards Bobby's overgrowth for financial purposes, 
 it was a sad business for our poor friend, whose last 
 days in his upper flat were, as we had occasion to know, 
 
220 MEMOIR. 
 
 not quite so comfortable as befitted one with such a 
 superior quality of nails, or who was so useful a member 
 of the clerical profession. 
 
 Now came a domestic tragedy. My unfortunate father 
 had been going from bad to worse ever since the loss of 
 his lawsuit. The flute which cheered him in the spring- 
 tide of life was laid aside, as too simple a means of 
 exhilaration. Under his accumulation of disasters and 
 cankering reminiscences, ascribable in a great degree to 
 his inconsiderateness and want of moral courage, he died 
 a wreck in November 1824, in the week of those 
 conflagrations of which Robert has given some account. 
 
 Shortly after the issue of the Traditio?is, it became 
 expedient for me to relinquish printing, and to adhere 
 more exclusively to other branches of business, including 
 some undertakings of a literary nature. The parting 
 with my poor little press, which had latterly been super- 
 seded by newer mechanism, was not unaccompanied 
 with that kind of regret with which one bids farewell to 
 an old and cherished companion. It is pleasing, how- 
 ever, to know that it did not suffer destruction, but was 
 purchased by a person in Glasgow, who aspired to begin 
 as a printer in a way similar to myself; and for any- 
 thing I know to the contrary, this little machine may 
 still be creaking and wheezing on the banks of the 
 Clyde, for, like many who are afflicted with asthma, it 
 possessed a wonderful degree of vitality. 
 
 Partly with the design of furnishing a companion to 
 the Picture of Scotland, I commenced a work, purporting 
 to describe the institutions, secular and religious, peculiar 
 to our northern kingdom, and which I styled the Book 
 of Scotland. The woik required considerable research 
 as well as personal knowledge, and the task was one 
 
PEDESTRIAN EXCURSIONS. 221 
 
 for which I avow myself to have been ill qualified. I 
 sold it to a publisher for thirty pounds. It is now very 
 properly forgotten. Independently of its imperfections, 
 the subjects treated of would now stand in need of a 
 new elucidation, in consequence of innumerable recent 
 legislative alterations. Poor as was this production, it 
 procured me the honour of being employed along with 
 Robert to prepare the Gazetteer of Scotland for a pub- 
 lisher; the price to be paid for it being a hundred 
 pounds. It was to be a compilation from all available 
 and trustworthy sources, along with such original matter 
 as could reasonably be infused into it. To impart a 
 sufficient degree of freshness, I made several pedestrian 
 journeys to different parts of the country, gathering 
 here and there particulars which I thought would be of 
 value. 
 
 In these excursions I had necessarily to husband time 
 and exercise a pretty rigorous economy. Lodging at 
 the humbler class of inns, my expenses did not exceed 
 a few shillings a day. My object was to see as many 
 places as possible, and fix their situation and appearance 
 in my mind. I took notes only of dates, inscriptions, 
 and other matters demanding great precision. I now 
 found the value of cultivating the memory, and of having 
 learned to rely on recollections of places which I had 
 seen. From practice, I acquired the art of summoning 
 up the remembrance of scenes and places which I had 
 visited, and persons I had seen, even to very minute 
 particulars. Gathering and storing up observations in 
 this way, I traversed Fife and the lower parts of Perth 
 and Forfar shires. My longest stretch in one day 
 was from the neighbourhood of Cupar to Edinburgh, 
 by Lochleven, Kinross, Dunfermline, Inverkeithing, and 
 
222 MEMOIR. 
 
 Queensferry, a stretch of forty miles, varied by the 
 passage of the ferry. It was a delightful ramble in a 
 long day in June, which left the most pleasing recol- 
 lections, notwithstanding that I was a little foot-sore 
 on reaching home. By such means as this I was able 
 to impart some originality to the ordinary descriptions 
 in the Gazetteer. 
 
 Although my brother was ostensibly associated with 
 me in this production, his duties were chiefly those 
 of final supervisor of the press. As the work was a 
 thick octavo volume, double columns, in small type, 
 the mere penmanship of it extended to ten thousand 
 pages, many of which I wrote twice or thrice over, to 
 insure accuracy. My share of the price of copyright 
 was seventy pounds. This book was a great literary 
 exercise, and as such, remuneration was of inferior con- 
 sequence. I wrote the whole of it, as I had previous 
 productions, behind the counter, amidst the involve- 
 ments and interruptions of ordinary business ; by which 
 means I acquired a kind of facility of dropping and 
 resuming a subject at a moment's notice, which proved 
 of considerable value. To finish the work at the 
 appointed time, I was frequently compelled to remain 
 at the desk for two to three hours after closing up for 
 the night. The labour incurred by so much thinking 
 and writing, together with close application otherwise, 
 unameliorated with any sort of recreation, brought on 
 an illness which for some time assumed a threatening 
 appearance. But this was happily got over without any 
 permanently bad effects. 
 
 The publication of the Gazetteer helped perhaps to 
 bring me a little more into notice \ but if local notoriety 
 was desirable, that was incidentally effected by writing 
 
LITERAR Y EXERCISES. 223 
 
 a series of letters in an Edinburgh newspaper, concern- 
 ing that species of civic administration which terminated 
 shortly afterwards in a financial collapse. These letters 
 bore my name, for it has been with me a rule in life 
 never to write an anonymous letter. If ever there was 
 an instance of the value of this species of candour, it 
 was on the present occasion. The letters engaged 
 public attention, and when issued in a collected form in 
 a small pamphlet, the sale was immense. On looking 
 back to this exploit, I feel that the strictures were much 
 too severe, and visited on individuals that which pro- 
 perly belonged to a system. 
 
 Though these and some other literary exercises were 
 of no pecuniary advantage adequate to the time and 
 trouble spent upon them, they were immensely service- 
 able as a training, preparatory to the part which it was 
 my destiny to take in the cheap literature movement of 
 modern times. It is regarding that movement, and the 
 change which it wrought in my brother's as well as in 
 my own course of life, that something is now to be said. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CHEAP LITERATURE MOVEMENT OF 1832. 
 
 TVT OT the least curious thing about the rise of cheap 
 * ^ literature in the form of detached sheets in our 
 times is, that it is in reality a Renaissance. Differing 
 only in degree, it is a revival of what had long passed 
 away and been popularly forgotten. Let us look a little 
 into the matter historically, saying a few words in the 
 first place regarding the oldest cheap literature of all 
 the Penny Chap Books of our simple-minded forefathers. 
 Like the corresponding Folk Lore of the Germans, the 
 old Chap Books, consisting of coarsely printed sheets, 
 duodecimo, embellished with equally coarse frontis- 
 pieces, aimed at no sort of instruction, such as we now 
 understand by the term j yet they furnished amusement 
 to the humble fireside. They appealed to the popular 
 love of the heroic, the marvellous, the pathetic, and the 
 humorous. Many of them were nothing more than an 
 embodiment of the legends, superstitions, ballads, and 
 songs, which had been kept alive by oral tradition 
 before the invention of printing. Superstitions, as may 
 be supposed, formed the staple material. So numerous 
 were the books for telling fortunes, discovering and 
 averting witchcraft, narrating the appearance of ghosts, 
 
CHEAP LITERATURE. 225 
 
 prognosticating the weather, interpreting dreams, and 
 explaining lucky and unlucky days, that the extent and 
 depth of public credulity must have been immense. 
 
 Objectionable and pitiable in character as were the 
 greater number of Chap Books miserable as they were in 
 appearance and aim they are nevertheless to be taken 
 as illustrative of popular intelligence and taste during the 
 lengthened period in which they bore rule ; and as such, 
 reflect a certain light on the social progress of Great 
 Britain. It would seem, indeed, that just as a crop of 
 worthless indigenous plants grow up on a meagre 
 uncultivated soil, so do Chap Books spring up in the 
 mental infancy of the common people, and continue 
 till displaced by a literature equally entertaining, but 
 of a standard which corresponds to a state of higher 
 advancement. Another consideration suggests itself. 
 A country may be renowned for its scholarship, its 
 science, its exquisite proficiency in the fine arts, and yet 
 not be beyond its Chap Book era. Such is the case at 
 this moment in Italy, where took place the revival of 
 letters, where universities have longest existed, and 
 where sculpture and painting have for ages been carried 
 to an enviable pitch of excellence. With startling 
 discordance, under the very shadow of the university of 
 Padua, the cathedral of Milan, and the glorious galleries 
 of the Ufnzi at Florence, a Chap Book literature is 
 copiously dispersed, as primitive in character and as 
 poor in appearance as anything which satisfied our 
 illiterate peasantry of a past age. The moral that may 
 be drawn from the fact of a country being rich in 
 universities, and at the same time abounding in books 
 for interpreting dreams and expounding lucky numbers 
 in the lottery, will occur to every one. 
 
 o 
 
226 MEMOIR. 
 
 Pervading town and country as a literature in request 
 among all the humbler classes who could read, English 
 and also Scottish Chap Books were extirpated by no 
 edict, but disappeared slowly through the united effects 
 of education, and a demand for something equally 
 exhilarating and much more conformable to improved 
 manners and feelings. Some circumstances, not to be 
 referred to without regret, conspired to prolong the 
 Chap Book era beyond the time at which it would 
 probably have vanished. Newspapers, which began to 
 assume a determinate form as miscellaneous intelli- 
 gencers about the period of the Restoration, attained 
 to a considerable standing and popularity shortly after 
 1695, when they were relieved from the licensing act 
 that had hitherto oppressed them. The press, now in 
 effect free, and the public mind entering, as it were, on 
 the new phase which had been initiated at the Revolu- 
 tion, we are led by innumerable evidences to conclude 
 that a great change was about to ensue in the matter 
 of popular literature. 
 
 We see the dawn of this hopeful transition in the 
 reign of Queen Anne, when much was done, and much 
 more was unscrupulously checked. We now look, 
 not without surprise, on penny newspapers and penny 
 literary sheets, but these are no new thing. There were 
 papers of both kinds, or of a mixed nature, equally 
 low-priced, a hundred and fifty years ago. As yet these 
 cheap papers did not attempt to supersede the Chap 
 Book literature, but we cannot doubt that such must 
 soon have been the issue. Let me pause for a moment 
 on this outcrop of improved popular prints at the 
 commencement of the eighteenth century. 
 
 The first cheap periodical which contained observations 
 
THE TATLZR AND SPECTATOR. 227 
 
 written with literary skill was a paper called the 
 Review, begun by Daniel Defoe while he was confined 
 in Newgate for publishing his ironical pamphlet, A 
 Short and Easy Way with the Dissenters. In spite of 
 depressing circumstances, he kept up his Review for 
 nine- years. Commencing in 1704, it lasted till 1713, 
 and formed the predecessor of, as well as the exemplar 
 for, the Tatler, which was begun in 1709 by Richard 
 Steele, assisted by his friend Addison. The Tatler 
 appeared three times a week, and was sold for a penny. 
 Soon after its close in 1711, the same writers com- 
 menced the Spectator, also issued at a penny, but 
 appearing daily. Here, then, to all appearance, was a 
 most auspicious beginning of a cheap and popular 
 literature of a quality which leaves us nothing to regret, 
 but very much to admire. One can scarcely write with 
 any degree of temper of the overthrow of so promising 
 a department of literature. 
 
 As early as 1701, a bill had been brought into 
 parliament to impose a halfpenny stamp on newspapers ; 
 but such was the clamour raised by the printers, that 
 the scheme was dropped. Beat off for a time, the 
 House of Commons, which had then little sympathy 
 with social progress, successfully renewed the attack on 
 the press, and the i2th of August 1712, saw the news- 
 papers, as well as the purely literary sheets, issued with 
 a stamp a halfpenny if half a sheet, and a penny if a 
 whole sheet. At the same time, a tax of a shilling was 
 imposed on every advertisement. The pretext for these 
 measures was a wish to stem allegedly impertinent 
 discussions on public affairs. But the good was swept 
 down as well as the bad. The Spectator, which had 
 been the vehicle for the noble writings of Addison, 
 
228 MEMOIR. 
 
 immediately experienced a severe reverse. The price 
 was doubled, to meet the new expenses, but the 
 expedient failed. Any rise in the charge for a cheap 
 periodical is generally fatal to its circulation. After a 
 vain struggle, the Spectator expired in 1713. No man 
 in the present day would dare to vindicate the policy 
 which thus obstructed the growth of a wholesome 
 popular literature. That there was as yet neither 
 capital nor mechanical appliance to facilitate the issue 
 of large impressions, is admitted. But who can tell 
 what might have ensued under an unrestricted issue of 
 newspapers, and the cheaper kinds of literary sheets ? 
 
 It is painful to peruse the history of what followed. 
 Such was the growing demand for newspapers, that 
 there were constant attempts, some of them wonderfully 
 successful, to evade the law. In the reign of George 
 II., unstamped halfpenny and penny sheets were sold 
 to such an extent by hawkers in the streets of London, 
 that an act was passed in 1743 to suppress this contra- 
 band traffic, and any news-boy who dared to offer one of 
 these low-priced intelligencers did so at the risk of three 
 months' imprisonment. Additional stamp and other 
 duties, though in various ways repressive, never utterly 
 quenched the cheap popular press, and only postponed 
 its final triumph. Embarrassed with fiscal duties, the 
 news and literary sheets which struggled on through the 
 reign of the first three Georges were, along with the 
 magazines and reviews that sprung into popularity, of 
 no small importance in rearing and primarily affording 
 a maintenance to a brilliant series of eighteenth-century 
 writers Defoe, Steele, Addison, Johnson, Goldsmith, 
 Smollett, and others. 
 
 Although books, chiefly reprints, were in time 
 
ESKDALE TAM. 229 
 
 cheapened and greatly popularised by a series of enter- 
 prising publishers, beginning with Alexander Donaldson 
 (father of the founder of Donaldson's Hospital, Edin- 
 burgh), and although books of all kinds were rendered 
 generally accessible by circulating libraries, the more aspir- 
 ing of the humbler orders, particularly those at a distance 
 from towns, still experienced great difficulty in procuring 
 works to improve their knowledge or entertain their 
 leisure hours. Perusing the memoirs of Robert Burns, 
 James Ferguson, Thomas Telford, George Stephenson, 
 and others who, by dint of genius and painstaking 
 study, raised themselves from obscurity to distinction, 
 we perceive what were their difficulties in getting hold of 
 books ; such as they did procure being mostly borrowed 
 from kindly disposed neighbours. 
 
 Usually, in these untoward circumstances, the mind 
 of the rustic youth took the direction of rhyming in the 
 style of Ramsay and Robert Fergusson. This was 
 specially observable in the case of Telford, who, while 
 still a journeyman mason in his native Eskdale, con- 
 tributed verses to Ruddiman's Weekly Magazine, under 
 the unpretending signature of ' Eskdale Tarn.' In one 
 of these compositions, which was addressed to Burns, 
 he sketched his own character, and the efforts he made 
 to improve his stock of knowledge by poring over a 
 borrowed volume with no better light than what was 
 afforded by the cottage fire : 
 
 * Nor pass the tentie curious lad, 
 Who o'er the ingle hangs his head, 
 And begs of neighbours books to read ; 
 
 For hence arise 
 Thy country's sons, who far are spread, 
 
 Baith bold and wise.' 
 
230 MEMOIR. 
 
 So matters remained ; the protracted French war and 
 its immediate consequences postponing any substantial 
 improvement, at least as regarded the less affluent classes. 
 From 1815 till 1820, while the marvellous fictions of 
 Scott and the poems of Byron were issuing with rapidity 
 from the press, low-priced and scurrilous prints, minister- 
 ing to the fancies of the seditious and depraved, were 
 also produced in vast numbers. It was an era of 
 transition from war to peace, and as yet society had not 
 composed itself decorously in the new state of things. 
 There was much to rectify, and little patience was 
 exercised in the process ; and, above all, there was little 
 or no harmony among the different classes of the com- 
 munity. So much may be mentioned to extenuate the 
 unscrupulous character of the cheap political prints that 
 swept over the country, which time, free discussion, and 
 various meliorations would have counteracted or extin- 
 guished. More abrupt measures, however, were adopted. 
 Certain statutes killed off the whole at a blow in 1820. 
 
 No cheap unstamped paper could be safely attempted 
 immediately after this, unless it were purely literary, 
 and abstained from any comment on public affairs. Of 
 this class was the obscure periodical attempted by my 
 brother and myself in 1821. In 1822, a cheap weekly 
 sheet, styled the Mirror, was begun in London by John 
 Limbird, but with little . pretension to original writing. 
 It was illustrated with wood-engravings, was generally 
 amusing, and so far might be denned as a step in the 
 right direction. 
 
 From about this time, benevolently disposed and 
 thoughtful men set about devising methods for improv- 
 ing the intelligence and professional skill of artisans. 
 The School of Arts, the earliest of its class, was founded 
 
USEFUL KNOWLEDGE SOCIETY. 231 
 
 in Edinburgh in 1821. Two years later, Dr Birkbeck 
 founded a Mechanics' Institution in London and another 
 in Glasgow. How views of this nature should now have 
 at length assumed a practical shape would lead to a too 
 lengthened exposition. Reference may merely be made 
 to the influence exercised by the writings of Scott, 
 Campbell, Wordsworth, Southey, and Byron during the 
 early years of the century ; likewise to the efficacy of 
 the newer class of reviews and magazines, as well as, 
 more lately, the improved character of the newspaper 
 press. Permeating, as it were, down through society, 
 literature, in various inviting forms, had vivified and 
 brought to the surface new orders of readers, and, 
 besides, set a fashion for seeking recreation in books 
 and periodicals, which was favourable to any cheapening 
 of these engines of instruction and entertainment 
 
 To causes of this nature are we chiefly to impute the 
 Mechanics' Institution movement, and what was coeval 
 with it, the rise of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful 
 Knowledge, which was founded in 1825. Viewed as a 
 distinct and imposing effort to stimulate the popular 
 understanding, this association, with all the mistakes 
 which marked its short career, is never to be spoken of 
 without respect As is well known, the society was 
 commenced under the auspices of several noblemen and 
 gentlemen, who have for the greater part left their 
 impress on the age Lords Auckland and Althorp (after- 
 wards Earl Spencer), Lord John Russell, Lord Brougham, 
 Sir James Mackintosh, Matthew D. Hill, Dr Maltby, 
 Mr Hallam, and Captain Basil Hall, to which a long list 
 of names could be added. The object of the Society 
 was to issue a series of cheap treatises on the exact 
 sciences, and on various branches of knowledge. In 
 
232 MEMOIR. 
 
 1827, the year which saw the first of the Society's works, 
 Archibald Constable, a man of bold conceptions, com- 
 menced the issue of his Miscellany of volumes of a 
 popular kind; and others catching the contagion, for a 
 time there was a perfect deluge of works, designed for 
 the instruction and amusement of the multitude, and so 
 moderate in price, that no one could now complain of 
 being unable to fill his shelves at a small outlay. We 
 also ought not to forget the service done to literature 
 by such papers as the Literary Gazette and Athenceum, 
 this last surviving as the representative of its class. 
 
 It is interesting to look back on those times, and note 
 the progressive steps towards a thoroughly cheap yet 
 original and wholesome literature. There was merit 
 in the very shortcomings and failures, for, with their 
 temporary or partial success, they shewed that the public 
 were not indisposed to support that in which they could 
 have reason to place confidence. Some mistakes had 
 been committed. The prints suppressed in 1820 had 
 dealt principally in invective, of which no good can 
 come. And those which were established afterwards, 
 such as the Mirror, were purposeless in their aims. 
 
 The reign of William IV. was the true era of the 
 revival of cheap periodical literature. The political 
 agitations of 1831, by stirring up the popular feelings, 
 helped materially to stimulate the appetite for what 
 would excite, instruct, and amuse. So far as the humbler 
 orders were concerned, it almost appeared as if the 
 art of printing, through certain mechanical appliances 
 particularly the paper-making machine and the printing- 
 machine was only now effectually discovered. 
 
 To meet the popular demand, a number of low-priced 
 serials of a worthless or at least ephemeral kind were 
 
THE CORNUCOPIA. 233 
 
 issued in London in 1831. At the same time, there 
 were several set on foot in Edinburgh. The forerunner 
 and best of these was styled the Cornucopia, which 
 consisted of four pages, folio, and was sold for three- 
 halfpence. The editor and proprietor of this popular 
 sheet was George Mudie, a clever but erratic being, who, 
 I believe, had been a compositor. As the Cornucopia 
 contained a quantity of amusing matter, and in point of 
 size resembled a newspaper, it was deemed a marvel of 
 cheapness; for at this time the ordinary price of a 
 newspaper was sevenpence. Eminently successful as a 
 commercial undertaking, Mr Mudie's sheet, if properly 
 conducted, could not have failed to be permanently 
 successful. 
 
 As a bookseller, I had occasion to deal in these cheap 
 papers. One thing was greatly against them. They 
 were frequently behind time on the day of publication ; 
 and any irregularity in the appearance of periodicals is 
 generally fatal. It was also obvious that they were con- 
 ducted on no definite plan. They consisted for the most 
 part of disjointed and unauthorised extracts from books, 
 clippings from floating literature, old stories, and stale 
 jocularities. With no purpose but to furnish temporary 
 amusement, they were, as it appeared to me, the per- 
 version of what, if rightly conducted, might become a 
 powerful engine of social improvement. Pondering on 
 this idea, I resolved to take advantage of the evidently 
 growing taste for cheap literature, and lead it, as far as 
 was in my power, in a proper direction. 
 
 It is, I think, due to myself and others to offer this 
 explanation. I have never aspired to the reputation of 
 being the originator of low-priced serials ; but only, as 
 far as I can judge, the first to make a determined attempt 
 
234 MEMOIR. 
 
 to impart such a character to these productions in our 
 own day, as might tend to instruct and elevate inde- 
 pendently of mere passing amusement. Professionally, 
 I considered that the attempt was a noble and fair 
 venture one for which I might not be disqualified by 
 previous literary experiences, humble as these had been. 
 The enterprise promised to be at least in concord with 
 my feelings. 
 
 Before taking any active step, I mentioned the matter 
 to Robert. Let us, I said, endeavour to give a reput- 
 able literary character to what is at present mostly mean 
 or trivial, and of no permanent value ; but he, thinking 
 only of the not very creditable low-priced papers then 
 current, did not entertain a favourable opinion of my 
 projected undertaking. With all loyalty and affection, 
 however, he promised to give me what literary assistance 
 was in his power, and in this I was not disappointed. 
 Consulting no one else, and in that highly wrought state 
 of mind which overlooks all but the probability of suc- 
 cess, I at length, in January 1832, issued the prospectus 
 of Chambers* s Edinburgh Journal, a weekly sheet at 
 three-halfpence. Announcing myself as editor, I stated 
 that 'no communications in verse or prose were wanted/ 
 In this, there was an air of self-confidence, not perhaps 
 to be justified, but, as shewing that my periodical was 
 not to be composed of the contributions of anonymous 
 and irresponsible correspondents, the effect was on the 
 whole beneficial. 
 
 The first number appeared on Saturday, the 4th of 
 February 1832. It contained an opening address, 
 written in a fervid state of feeling, as may be judged by 
 the following passages. 
 
 1 The principle by which I have been actuated, is to 
 
CHAMBERS^ JOURNAL BEGUN. 235 
 
 take advantage of the universal appetite for instruction 
 which at present exists ; to supply to that appetite food 
 of the best kind, in such form and at such price as 
 must suit the convenience of every man in the British 
 dominions. Every Saturday, when the poorest labourer 
 in the country draws his humble earnings, he shall have 
 it in his power to purchase with an insignificant portion 
 of even that humble sum, a meal of healthful, useful, 
 and agreeable mental instruction. Whether I succeed 
 in my wishes, a brief space of time will determine. I 
 throw myself on the good sense of my countrymen 
 for support; all I seek is a fair field wherein to exer- 
 cise my industry in their service. It may perhaps be 
 considered an invidious remark, when I state as my 
 humble conviction, that the people of Great Britain and 
 Ireland have never yet been properly cared for, in the 
 way of presenting knowledge under its most cheering 
 and captivating aspect, to their immediate observation. 
 The scheme of diffusing knowledge has certainly been 
 more than once attempted by associations established 
 under peculiar advantages. Yet, the great end has not 
 been gained. The dearth of the publications, official 
 inflexibility, and above all, the plan of attaching the 
 interests of political or ecclesiastical parties to the 
 course of instruction or reading, have separately or 
 conjunctly circumscribed the limits of the operation ; so 
 that the world, on the whole, is but little the wiser with 
 all the attempts which have been made. The strong- 
 holds of ignorance, though not unassailed, remain to be 
 carried. Carefully eschewing the errors into which 
 these praiseworthy associations have fallen, I take a 
 course altogether novel. Whatever may be my political 
 principles, neither these nor any other which would be 
 
236 MEMOIR. 
 
 destructive of my present views, shall ever mingle in 
 my observations on the arrangements of civil society.' 
 I concluded by notifying the species of subjects which 
 would receive particular attention. 
 
 High as were my expectations, the success of the 
 work exceeded them. In a few days there was, 
 for Scotland, the unprecedented sale of fifty thousand 
 copies ; and at the third number, when copies were 
 consigned to an agent in London for dispersal through 
 England, the sale rose to eighty thousand, at which 
 it long remained, with scarcely any advertising to 
 give it publicity. To the best of my recollection, all 
 the other cheap papers issued in Edinburgh immediately 
 disappeared. In London, some also were dropped, but 
 others sprung up in their stead. For a time, indeed, 
 there was not a week which had not a new serial ; but 
 few of these candidates for public approval outlived 
 the second or third number. So many began and never 
 went farther, that a gentleman whom we happened to 
 hear of possessed a large pile of first numbers of 
 periodicals of which a second never appeared. 
 
 On the 3ist of March 1832, being about six 
 weeks after the commencement of Chambers Journal, 
 appeared the first number of the Penny Magazine of 
 the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. We 
 learn from Mr Charles Knight, its publisher, that the 
 Penny Magazine was suggested to him on a morning 
 in March, and that the Lord Chancellor (Brougham), 
 who was waited on, cordially entered into the project, 
 which was forthwith sanctioned by the Committee of 
 the Society. The Penny Magazine, begun under such 
 distinguished auspices, and which, as is understood, had 
 a very large circulation, terminated unexpectedly in 
 
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 237 
 
 1845; though not without "having exerted, during its 
 comparatively brief career, an influence, along with 
 similar publications, in stimulating the growth of that 
 cheap and wholesome literature which has latterly 
 assumed such huge proportions. 
 
 Why the Penny Magazine, with its alleged success 
 as regards circulation, its large array of artists and 
 writers, and its body of distinguished patrons, should 
 have perished so prematurely, while there were still 
 considerable strongholds of ignorance to be attacked, 
 no one has ever ventured to explain. A silence equally 
 mysterious hangs over the close of the Useful Know- 
 ledge Society, the proceedings of which were so vigor- 
 ously heralded and sustained by articles in the Edin- 
 burgh Review, that no one could say the association failed 
 for want of recommendation from the highest literary 
 quarters. In the absence of any explanations on the 
 subject, it may be conjectured that with all the ability 
 displayed, and the best intentions of every one con- 
 cerned, the treatises of the Society were on the whole too 
 technical and abstruse for the mass of operatives ; they 
 made no provision for the culture of the imaginative 
 faculties; and, in point of fact, were purchased and 
 read chiefly by persons considerably raised above the 
 obligation of toiling with their hands for their daily 
 bread. In a word, they may be supposed to have been 
 distasteful to the popular fancy. If any other reason 
 be wanted, it probably lay in the fact that a society 
 cannot, as a rule, compete with private enterprise. 
 
 It is not my duty to sit as critic on aims and efforts 
 not unlike my own. There are different ways of doing 
 things, and it may happen that one is as good as 
 another. All that need be said is, that it has been 
 
238 MEMOIR. 
 
 a matter of congratulation, that Chambers 's Journal 
 owed nothing, in its inception or at any part of its 
 career, to the special patronage or approval of any sect, 
 party, or individual. In the whole proceedings of my 
 brother and myself, we never courted the countenance 
 or recommendation of any person or persons, or of 
 any body of people, civil or religious; and after an 
 experience of forty years, circumstances would point to 
 the conclusion that this has not been the worst, besides 
 being the least obsequious, line of policy. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE CONDUCTING OF ' CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL.' 
 
 A S in the case of a dissolving view, when, as if by 
 -** magic, a bleak wintry scene is transformed into a 
 landscape glowing with the warmth and verdant garni- 
 ture of summer, so, by the appearance of the Journal, 
 and the wide popularity it secured, was there effected an 
 agreeable and wholly unforeseen change on my own 
 condition, and that of others connected with me. The 
 revolution was abrupt, and of a kind not to be treated 
 with indifference. The moderate and not very con- 
 spicuous business in which I had been engaged was 
 immediately relinquished, in consequence of the absorb- 
 ing and prospectively advantageous literary enterprise 
 in which I had embarked; and removing to a central 
 part of the town, new and enlarged premises were 
 acquired. Until the fourteenth number of the work, 
 Robert was only in the position of contributor. Then 
 abandoning his separate professional relations, he 
 became joint-editor, and was also associated with me 
 in the firm of W. & R. CHAMBERS. 
 
 Had Chambers' s Journal been commenced in London, 
 no mechanical difficulty would have been experienced. 
 The case was very different in Edinburgh, where, at the 
 
240 MEMOIR. 
 
 time, there were obstructions as regards both paper and 
 printing. John Johnstone, a genial old man, husband 
 of the authoress of Clan Albyn, and other novels, was a 
 printer, and by him the work was for a time executed, 
 as well as it could be in the circumstances. Other 
 printers were afterwards employed, but their hand- 
 presses, even with relays of men toiling night and day, 
 proved altogether inadequate for the large impressions 
 that were required. At length, a set of stereotype plates 
 of each number was sent weekly to London, from which 
 copies were printed for circulation in England; while 
 from another set impressions were executed in Edinburgh 
 by machines which we procured for the purpose. Steam 
 settled the difficulty. The work was at first a sheet 
 folio, subsequently the size was reduced to a quarto, and 
 at last to an octavo form. 
 
 Entering on the comprehensive design of editing, 
 printing, and publishing works of a popularly instructive 
 and entertaining tendency, Robert and I were for a 
 considerable length of time alone our immediately 
 younger brother, James, having, to our distress, died in 
 February 1833 and such was the degree of mutual 
 confidence between us, that not for the space of twenty- 
 one years was it thought expedient to execute any 
 memorandum of agreement. 
 
 Though unusual, the combination of literary labour 
 with the business of printing and publishing is not 
 without precedent. We may call to mind the examples 
 set by Edward Cave, Samuel Richardson, and Robert 
 Dodsley last century. We might, indeed, point to Sir 
 Walter Scott in our own times; the only thing to be 
 deplored in the case of that great man being, that he 
 kept his connection with the printing establishment 
 
DIVISION OF LABOUX. 241 
 
 of the Ballantynes a profound secret, through an 
 apprehension of losing caste among his law friends, 
 instead of avowedly, like Richardson, becoming the 
 printer, as well as holder of the copyrights, of his own 
 productions. 
 
 A happy difference, yet some resemblance, in char- 
 acter, proved of service in the literary and commercial 
 union of Robert and myself. Mentally, each had a 
 little of the other, but with a wide divergence in matters 
 requisite as a whole. One could not have well done 
 without the other. With mutual help there was mutual 
 strength. All previous hardships and experiences seemed 
 to be but a training in strict adaptation for the course 
 of life opened up to us in 1832. Nothing could have 
 happened better a circumstance which may perhaps go 
 a little way towards inspiring hopes and consolations 
 among those who may be destined to pass through a 
 similar ordeal. 
 
 The permanent hold on the public mind which the 
 Journal fortunately obtained, was undoubtedly owing, in 
 a very great degree, to the leading articles, consisting of 
 essays, moral, familiar, and humorous, from the pen of 
 my brother. My own more special duties were con- 
 fined for the most part to papers having in view some 
 kind of popular instruction, particularly as regards 
 the young, whom it was attempted to stimulate in the 
 way of mental improvement. There likewise fell to my 
 share the general administration of a concern which 
 was ever increasing in dimensions. In conducting the 
 Journal, the object never lost sight of was not merely 
 to enlighten, by presenting information on matters 
 of interest, and to harmlessly amuse, but to touch 
 the heart to purify the affections; thus, if possible, 
 
 p 
 
242 MEMOIR. 
 
 imparting to the work a character which would render it 
 universally acceptable to families. 
 
 At no time was there any attempt to give pictorial 
 illustrations of objects in natural history, the fine arts, 
 or anything else. Without undervaluing the attractions 
 of wood-cut engravings, the aims of the editors were in 
 a different direction. Their desire, it will be perceived, 
 was to cultivate the feelings as much as the under- 
 standing. Hence the endeavour to revive, in a style 
 befitting the age, the essay system of last century. In 
 this effort, it may be allowable to say that Robert was 
 eminently successful. His own explanations on the 
 subject, embraced in the preface to a collection of his 
 essays (published in 1847), are worthy of being quoted : 
 
 ' It was in middle life that I was induced to become an 
 essayist, for the benefit of a well-known periodical work 
 established by my elder brother. During fifteen years I 
 have laboured in this field, alternately gay, grave, senti- 
 mental, philosophical, until not much fewer than four 
 hundred separate papers have proceeded from my pen. 
 These papers were written under some difficulties, parti- 
 cularly those of a provincial situation, and a life too studious 
 and recluse to afford much opportunity for the observation 
 of social characteristics. Yet perhaps these restraints have 
 had some good effect on the other hand, in making the 
 treatment of subjects less local and less liable to the acci- 
 dents of fashion than it might otherwise have been. One 
 ruling aim of the author must be taken into account : it was 
 my design from the first to be the essayist of the middle 
 class that in which I was born, and to which I continued 
 to belong. I therefore do not treat their manners and 
 habits as one looking de haut en bas, which is the usual 
 style of essayists, but as one looking round among the 
 firesides of my friends. For their use I shape and sharpen 
 
DEATH OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. 243 
 
 my apothegms ; to their comprehension I modify any 
 philosophical disquisitions on which I have entered. Every- 
 where I have sought less to attain elegance or observe 
 refinement, than to avoid that last of literary sins dullness. 
 I have endeavoured to be brief direct ; and I know I have 
 been earnest. As to the sentiment and philosophy, I am 
 not aware that any particular remark is called for. The 
 only principles on which I have been guided are, as far as 
 I am aware, these : whatever seems to me just, or true, or 
 useful, or rational, or beautiful, I love and honour 
 wherever human woe can be lessened, or happiness in- 
 creased, I would work to that end wherever intelligence 
 and virtue can be promoted, I would promote them. These 
 dispositions will, I trust, be traced in my writings.' 
 
 The year that saw the beginning of Chambers" s Jour- 
 nal, brought gloom over the literary world. After an 
 unavailing search for health in the south of Europe, Sir 
 Walter Scott returned to Abbotsford in the course of 
 the summer to die. The scene was gently closed on 
 the 2ist September 1832. The funeral of this illustrious 
 Scotsman was appointed to take place on Wednesday 
 the 26th. Among the very few mourners from Edin- 
 burgh who attended, were my brother and myself. We 
 saw the remains of the great man laid with appropriate 
 solemnities in his grave amidst the picturesque ruins of 
 Dryburgh. 
 
 Indebted to Sir Walter for so many kindnesses some 
 years previously, and in correspondence with him till 
 the close of 1831, my brother felt that he had lost his 
 most honoured friend. Almost immediately, he pro- 
 ceeded to write a memoir of the deceased, from such 
 materials as were within reach, as well as from personal 
 recollections. The memoir was issued by us in a 
 popular form, and had an extraordinary sale as many 
 
244 MEMOIR. 
 
 as eighty thousand copies.* It is referred to in the 
 following letter from Allan Cunningham, with whom 
 my brother had opened a correspondence. The letter 
 is for other reasons interesting. 
 
 '27 LOWER BELGRAVE PLACE, 
 27//& October 1832. 
 
 ' MY DEAR SIR Your letter was a welcome one. It is 
 written with that frank openness of heart which I like, and 
 contains a wish, which was no stranger to my own bosom, 
 that we should be known to each other. You must not 
 suppose that I have been influenced in my wish by the 
 approbation with which I know your works have been 
 received by your country. It is long since I took to judging 
 in all matters for myself, and the Picture of Scotland and 
 the Traditions of Edinburgh, both of which I bought, 
 induced me to wish Robert Chambers among my friends. 
 There was, perhaps, a touch or so of vanity in this your 
 poetic, ballad-scrap, auld-world, new-world, Scottish tastes 
 and feelings seemed to go side for side with my own. Be 
 so good, therefore, as send me your promised Book of 
 Ballads, and accept in return, or rather in token of future 
 regard, active and not passive, my Rustic Maid of Elvar, 
 who has made her way through reform pamphlets and other 
 rubbish, like a lily rising through the clods of the spring. 
 There 's a complimentary simile in favour of myself and my 
 book! You must not, however, think ill of it because I 
 praise it ; but try and read it, and tell me what you feel 
 about it. 
 
 *I have been much pleased with your account of Sir 
 Walter Scott : ft wears such an air of truth, that no one can 
 refuse credence to it, and is full of interesting facts and just 
 observations. I have no intention of expanding, or even of 
 
 * This memoir has been revised and reissued Life of Sir Walter 
 Scott, by Robert Chambers, LL.D., with 'Abbotsford Notanda,' 
 by Robert Carruthers, LL.D. (1871). 
 
LETTER OF ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 245 
 
 correcting, my own hasty and inaccurate sketch. Mr Lock- 
 hart will soon give a full and correct life of that wonderful 
 man to the world. The weed which I have thrown on his 
 grave for I cannot call it a flower may wither as better 
 things must do. Some nine thousand copies were sold ; 
 this we consider high, though nothing comparable, I know, 
 to the immense sale of Chambers Journal. I am truly 
 glad of your great circulation ; your work is by a thousand 
 degrees the best of all the latter progeny of the press. It is 
 an original work, and while it continues so must keep the 
 lead of the paste and scissors productions. My wife, who 
 has just returned from Scotland, says that your Journal 
 is very popular among her native hills of Galloway. The 
 shepherds, who are scattered there at the rate of one to 
 every four miles square, read it constantly, and they circu- 
 late it in this way : the first shepherd who gets it reads it, 
 and at an understood hour places it under a stone on a 
 certain hill-top ; then shepherd the second in his own time 
 finds it, reads it, and carries it to another hill, where it is 
 found like Ossian's chief under its own gray stone by shep- 
 herd the third, and so it passes on its way, scattering 
 information over the land. 
 
 4 My songs, my dear sir, have all the faults you find with 
 them, and some more. The truth is, I am unacquainted 
 with any other nature save that of the Nith and the 
 Solway, and I must make it do my turn. I am like a bird 
 that gathers materials for its nest round its customary bush, 
 and who sings in his own grove, and never thinks of moving 
 elsewhere. The affectations of London are as nothing to 
 me ; in my Lives of the Painters, I have, however, escaped 
 from my valley, and on other contemplated works I hope to 
 shew that though I sing in the charmed circle of Nithsdale, 
 I can make excursions in prose out of it, and write and 
 think like a man of the world and its ways. I remain, my 
 dear sir, with much regard, yours always, 
 
 ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 
 
 'To ROBERT CHAMBERS, Esq.' 
 
246 MEMOIR. 
 
 It was gratifying for us, as editors of Chambers^ 
 Journal, to receive the approbation and good wishes of 
 so prodigious a popular favourite as ' Honest Allan,' for, 
 independently of the wide circulation of the work, his 
 good word was an assurance that the principles on which 
 it had been started and inflexibly maintained, were 
 commendable. It will now seem strange to mention, 
 that the success of this unassuming periodical led to a 
 species of persecution. On all hands we were beset 
 with requests to give it the character of a ' religious pub- 
 lication.' It was in vain for us to state that that was 
 not our role ; that our work was addressed to persons 
 of all shades of thinking, religious and secular, and that 
 we could not, without violation of our original profession, 
 take a side with any one in particular. We only got 
 abused, and were called names. The era of this species 
 of persecution, for such it was, however grotesque and 
 ridiculous, extended for nearly twenty years after the 
 commencement of the work ; and we had often cause to 
 be amused with the unreasonableness of the demands 
 which were preferred, also to wonder if others in like 
 circumstances were similarly assailed. 
 
 On one occasion we were impelled to address our 
 readers, partly in explanation of the reasons for main- 
 taining the principles on which the Journal was estab- 
 lished. Some passages may be quoted as specifying the 
 literary charter of the work : 
 
 * With so many good results before us, it would surely 
 be unwise were we to alter our plans in order to please 
 the fancies of any sect, party, or individual. It is our 
 firm conviction that any attempt to do so would be 
 attended by failure. The many would be lost for the 
 sake of the few who would be gained, and the work 
 
LEIGH HUNTS JOURNAL. 247 
 
 would soon dwindle into deserved insignificance. So 
 much we say in all friendliness to those who seem 
 inclined to fasten upon us functions for which we have 
 no vocation. No, no; we must decline usurping the 
 mission of the politician and the divine ; we must leave 
 the newspaper and the evangelical magazine to follow 
 out their respective aims. To us, be it enough that 
 we hold by the original charter of our constitution. 
 Chambers Journal shall never be written for this or 
 that country, nor to meet this or that fashion of opinion, 
 but remain to the end what it has been from the 
 beginning a Literary Miscellany, aspiring to inculcate 
 the highest order of morals, universal brotherhood, and 
 charity; to present exalted views of Creative Wisdom 
 and Providential Care ; and to impart correct, or, at all 
 events, earnest and carefully formed, ideas on subjects of 
 economic or general concern ; endeavouring at the same 
 time to raise no false expectations, to outrage no indi- 
 vidual opinion, and to keep out of sight everything that 
 would set mankind by the ears.' 
 
 While resolutely holding to our appointed course, the 
 establishment of rival publications less or more differing 
 from our own in character some of them religious, 
 or colourably so was so far from giving us uneasiness, 
 that we ever hailed them as coadjutors, all labouring 
 for the public good in their respective vocations; 
 for it is only by such varied means that every depart- 
 ment of the community can be reached. In April 
 1834, Leigh Hunt set on foot the London Journal \ which 
 the editor, in his address, spoke of as being * similar 
 in point of size and variety to Chambers'* Edinburgh 
 Journal, but with a character a little more southern and 
 literary.' Now that Mr Hunt and my brother have both 
 
248 MEMOIR. 
 
 passed away, it is more than ever pleasing to peruse 
 the correspondence that took place between them on 
 the subject of this new claimant for popular favour. 
 My brother wrote as follows : 
 
 EDINBURGH, April 15, 1834. 
 
 'DEAR SIR I take leave to address you in this familiar 
 manner for several reasons. The chief is your kind nature, 
 as exemplified in your writings, which prove you the friend 
 of all mankind ; the lesser are, your allusions, on more 
 occasions than one, to writings of mine, when you did not 
 perhaps know the exact name of the author. My purpose is 
 to congratulate you on the first number of your Journal, 
 which I have just seen, and to express my earnest and 
 sincere hope that it will repay your exertions, and render 
 the latter part of your life more prosperous than you say the 
 earlier has been. You will perhaps appreciate my good 
 wishes the more that they proceed from an individual who, 
 according to vulgar calculations, might expect to be injured 
 by your success. I assure you, so far from entertaining any 
 grudge towards your work on that score, I am as open to 
 receive pleasurable impressions from it as I have ever been 
 from your previous publications, or as the least literary of 
 your readers can be ; and as hopeful that it will succeed 
 and prove a means of comfort to you, as the most ancient 
 and familiar of your friends. I know that your work can 
 never do, by a tenth part, so much ill to my brother and 
 myself as it may do good to you for every book, however 
 similar to others, finds in a great measure new channels for 
 itself; and still more certain am I, that the most jealous and 
 unworthy feelings we could entertain, would be ineffectual in 
 protecting us from the consequences of your supplanting our 
 humble sheets in the public favour. My brother and I feel 
 much pleasure in observing that a writer so much our senior, 
 and so much our superior, should have thought our plan to 
 such an extent worthy of his adoption, and hope your doing 
 so will only furnish additional proof of the justice of our 
 
LETTER TO LEIGH HUNT. 249 
 
 calculations. This leads me to remark, that, while I acknow- 
 ledge the truth of your pretensions to having been the reviver 
 of the periodical literature of a former age, and have looked 
 to your manner of treating light subjects as in part the 
 model of our own, I must take this and every other proper 
 opportunity of asserting my elder brother's merit, as the 
 originator of cheap respectable publications, of the class to 
 which your 'Journal is so important an addition. In the 
 starting of Chambers'* Edinburgh Journal, in February 
 1832, he was unquestionably the first to develop this new 
 power of the printing-press ; and considering that we had 
 some little character (at least in Scotland) to lose, and 
 encountered feelings in our literary brethren little less apt, I 
 may say, to deter us from our object than the terrors which 
 assailed Rodolph in the Witch's Glen (a simile more 
 expressive than it is apt), I humbly conceive that, when the 
 full utility of my brother's invention shall have been per- 
 ceived by the world, as I trust it will in time, he will be fully 
 entitled to have his claims allowed without dispute. 
 
 ' That we have regretted to find ourselves the objects of 
 so many of the meaner order of feelings among our brethren, 
 it would be vain to deny. I must say, however, that we 
 would have been ill to satisfy indeed, if the admission of our 
 weekly sheet into almost every family of the middle rank, 
 and many of the lower throughout the country, had not 
 more than compensated us for that affliction. Our labours, 
 moreover, are profitable beyond our hopes, beyond our 
 wants, besides yielding to us a ceaseless revenue of pleasure, 
 in the sense they convey to us of daily and hourly improving 
 the hearts and understandings of a large portion of our 
 species. That you may aim as heartily at this result, and 
 be as successful in obtaining it, is the wish of, dear sir, your 
 sincere friend and servant, 
 
 ROBERT CHAMBERS. 
 
 'To LEIGH HUNT, Esq.' 
 
 There was a reply, lively and characteristic, a copy of 
 
250 MEMOIR. 
 
 which appeared in the fourth number of the London 
 Journal, being introduced with some complimentary 
 remarks : 
 
 *4 UPPER CHEYNE Row, CHELSEA, 
 April 21, 1834. 
 
 ' MY DEAR SIR I should have sooner acknowledged the 
 receipt of your kind and flattering letter, had I not, in the 
 midst of a great press of business, been answering it in 
 another manner through the medium of the London Journal, 
 in the columns of which I have taken the liberty of putting 
 it. I hope you will excuse this freedom, which I could not 
 have taken with you had I respected you less ; and I trust 
 I have anticipated any delicacies you might have had on 
 the point, by stating to the reader that you had given me 
 no intimation as to whether I might so use it or not. But 
 setting aside other reasons for this step injurious, I trust, 
 to neither of us it appeared to me too good a thing for the 
 public to lose, as an evidence of the new and generous good- 
 will springing up among reflecting people, and specially fit 
 to be manifested by those who make it their business to 
 encourage reflection. It would have been like secreting a 
 sunbeam a new warmth a new smile for the world. Nor 
 will you think this image hyperbolical, when you consider 
 the effect which such evidence must have upon the world, 
 however your modesty might incline you to deprecate it 
 personally. Mankind, in ignorance of the sweet and bright 
 drop of benevolence which they all more or less carry in 
 their hearts, ready to bathe and overflow it in good time, 
 have been too much in the habit of returning mistrust for 
 mistrust, and doubting every one else because each of them- 
 selves was doubted. Hence a world of heart-burnings, 
 grudgings, jealousies, mischiefs, &c., till some even of the 
 kindest people were ashamed to seem kind or to have better 
 opinions of things than their neighbours. Think what a 
 fine thing it is to help to break up this general ice betwixt 
 men's hearts, and you will no longer have any doubt of the 
 
LETTER FROM LEIGH HUNT. 251 
 
 propriety of the step I have taken, even supposing you to 
 have had any before which I hope not. I forgot to say 
 one thing in my public remarks on your letter, which was, 
 to express my hearty agreement with you as to the opinion 
 that publications of this kind do no injury to one another. 
 But this was implied in my address to the public in the first 
 number, and I hope is self-evident. Most unaffectedly do I 
 rejoice at hearing your own words confirm, and in so 
 pleasant and touching a manner, the report of the great 
 success of you and your brother in your speculation. I 
 cannot pretend, after all that I have suffered, not to be glad 
 to include a prospect of my own success in it, however it 
 may fall short of its extent. Any kind of a bit of nest of 
 retreat, with powers to send forth my young comfortably 
 into the world, and to keep up my note of cheerfulness and 
 encouragement to all ears while I have a voice left, is all 
 that I desire for myself, or ever did. But in consequence 
 of what I have suffered, and conscientiously suffered too, 
 I claim a right to be believed when I say that I could rejoice 
 in the success of other well-wishers to their species, apart 
 from my own, and have often done so ; and in this spirit, as 
 well as the other, I congratulate you. That you and your 
 brother may live long to see golden harvests of all sorts 
 spring up from the seed you have sown, and to reap in 
 consequence that " revenue of pleasure " you speak of, as 
 well as the more ordinary one, is the cordial wish of, dear 
 sir, yours faithfully, 
 
 LEIGH HUNT. 
 'To ROBERT CHAMBERS, Esq.* 
 
 No one could more regret than we did that Mr 
 Hunt's literary venture was not permanently successful. 
 At the sixty-second number, he united with his journal 
 a periodical called the Printing Machine, at the same 
 time raising the price from three-halfpence to twopence, 
 and altering the day of publication. Changes of this 
 
252 MEMOIR. 
 
 kind are hazardous, if not usually injurious. From 
 whatever cause, the publication, as far as can be remem- 
 bered, did not reach its hundredth number, although, 
 from the quality of its contents, it merited a much 
 longer existence. 
 
 How Chambers' s Journal should have been so fortu- 
 nate as secure a lasting success, while so many con- 
 temporary publications came prematurely to an end, is 
 a point I can scarcely be expected to elucidate, further 
 than by referring to the long series of popular essays by 
 my brother, and to the sustained zeal with which the 
 work was conducted. Robert and I had come through 
 too many tribulations, and seen too vividly the conse- 
 quence of lost chances of well-doing among those about 
 us, now to trifle with the opportunity of honourable 
 advancement which had been fortunately placed in our 
 way. Week after week, year after year, there was with 
 us, I may safely aver, no relaxation of vigilance no 
 treating of serious duties in the light of an amusement 
 to be taken up and laid down at pleasure. And need I 
 make the remark, after all that has been written first and 
 last on the subject, that without this persistent earnest- 
 ness of purpose, and it may be self-denial, no permanent 
 success can be reckoned in any undertaking, whether 
 literary or commercial ? 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 RETROSPECT OF GENERAL WORK DONE. 
 
 LOOKING back to 1833, memory brings up recol- 
 lections of Robert living in the bosom of a young 
 family, in a home noted for its genial hospitality, as 
 well as for certain evening parties, in which were found 
 the most enjoyable society and music : his wife seated 
 at the harp or pianoforte, which he accompanied with 
 his flute the old flute which had long ago sounded 
 along the Eddleston Water, and had been preserved 
 through many vicissitudes; the entertainment being 
 sometimes varied by the tasteful performances of worthy 
 old George Thomson Burns's Thomson on the violin : 
 my mother living with the junior members of the family 
 in the composure and comfort which she had so meri- 
 toriously earned : and I settled in my newly-married life. 
 Such was the position of affairs. All the surroundings 
 agreeable. 
 
 The sad thing in these recollections is, that so many 
 who composed our general society, and figured among 
 the notables of the period, have passed from the stage 
 of existence. A lady with whom we formed an intimacy, 
 and who greatly enjoyed these evening parties, was Mrs 
 Maclehose, the celebrated ' Clarinda ' of Robert Burns. 
 
254 MEMOIR. 
 
 Now a widow in the decline of life, short in stature, and 
 of a plain appearance, with the habit of taking snuff, 
 which she had inherited from the fashions of the 
 eighteenth century, one could hardly realise the fact 
 of her being that charming Clarinda who had taken 
 captive the heart of 'Sylvander,' and of whom he 
 frenziedly wrote, on being obliged to leave her : 
 
 ' She, the fair sun of all her sex, 
 
 Has blest my glorious day ; 
 And shall a glimmering planet fix 
 My worship to its ray ? ' 
 
 Vastly altered since she was the object of this ador- 
 ation, Clarinda still possessed a singular sprightliness 
 in her conversation, and, what interested us, she was 
 never tired speaking of Burns, whose unhappy fate she 
 constantly deplored. 
 
 Another of our acquaintances, but seen only at times 
 when he came to town, was James Hogg, the Ettrick 
 Shepherd. I saw him first at my brother's house in 
 1830, and was amused with his blunt simplicity of 
 character and good-nature. It did not seem as if he 
 had the slightest veneration for any one more than 
 another whom he addressed, no matter what was their 
 rank or position ; and I could quite believe that he 
 sometimes took the liberty, as is alleged of him, of 
 familiarly addressing Sir Walter Scott as 'Watty,' and 
 Lady Scott as 'Charlotte.' The Shepherd, however, 
 was a genuinely good creature and agreeable acquaint- 
 ance. On one occasion, he invited my brother and 
 myself to what he called ' a small evening party,' at his 
 inn in the Candlemaker Row, intimating, in an easy 
 way, that we might bring any of our friends with us. 
 We went accordingly. Some time afterwards, when 
 
THE ETTRICK SHEPHERD. 255 
 
 poor Hogg was no more, Robert gave an account, not 
 in the least exaggerated, of this extraordinary entertain- 
 ment, which may here be introduced as a specimen of 
 the lighter class of articles in the early years of the 
 Journal. 
 
 THE CANDLEMAKER-ROW FESTIVAL. 
 
 'The late James Hogg was accustomed, in his latter days, 
 to leave his pastoral solitude in Selkirkshire once or twice 
 every year, in order to pay a visit to Edinburgh. He would 
 stay a week or a fortnight in the city, professedly lodging 
 at Watson's Selkirk and Peebles Inn in the Candlemaker 
 Row, but in reality spending almost the whole of his time in 
 dining, supping, and breakfasting with his friends ; for, 
 from his extreme good-nature, and other agreeable qualities 
 as a companion, not to speak of his distinction as a lion, 
 his society was much courted. The friends whom he 
 visited were of all kinds, from men high in standing at the 
 bar to poor poets and slender clerks ; and amongst all the 
 Shepherd was the same plain, good-humoured, unsophisti- 
 cated man as he had been thirty years before, when tending 
 his flocks amongst his native hills. In the morning, per- 
 haps, he would breakfast with his old friend Sir Walter 
 Scott, at his house in Castle Street, taking with him 
 some friend upon whom he wished to confer the advantage 
 of an acquaintance with that great man. The forenoon 
 would be spent in calls, and in lounging amongst the back- 
 shops of such booksellers as he knew. He would dine with 
 some of the wits of Blackwood 's Magazine, whom he would 
 keep in a roar till ten o'clock; and then, recollecting another 
 engagement, off he would set to' some fifth story in the Old 
 Town, where a young tradesman of literary tastes had 
 collected six or eight lads of his own sort, to enjoy the 
 humours of the great genius of the Nodes AmbrosiancE. 
 In companies of this kind, he was treated with such homage 
 and kindness, that he usually got into the highest spirits, 
 
256 MEMOIR. 
 
 sang as many of his own songs as his companions chose to 
 listen to, and told such droll stories that the poor fellows 
 were like to go mad with happiness. After acting as the 
 life and soul of the fraternity for a few hours, he would 
 proceed to his inn, where it was odds but he would be 
 entangled in some further orgies by a few of the inmates 
 of the house. 
 
 'The only uneasiness which the poet felt in consequence 
 of his being so much engaged in visiting, was that it rendered 
 his residence at Watson's little better than a mere affair 
 of lodging, so that, in his reckoning, the charge for his bed 
 bore much the same proportion to that for everything else 
 which the sack bore to the bread in Falstaffs celebrated 
 tavern bill. To remedy this, in some degree, the honest 
 Shepherd was accustomed to signalise the last night of his 
 abode in the inn by collecting a vast crowd of his Edinburgh 
 friends, of all ranks and ages and coats, to form a supper- 
 party for the benefit of the house. In the course of the 
 forenoon, he would make a round of calls, and mention, in 
 the most incidental possible way, that two or three of his 
 acquaintances were to meet that night in the Candlemaker 
 Row at nine, and that the addition of this particular friend 
 whom he was addressing, together with any of his friends 
 he chose to bring along with him, would by no means be 
 objected to. It may readily be imagined that, if he gave 
 this hint to some ten or twelve individuals, the total number 
 of his visitors would not probably be few. In reality, it used 
 to bring something like a Highland host upon him. Each 
 of the men he had spoken to came, like a chief, with a long 
 train of friends, most of them unknown to the hero of the 
 evening, but all of them eager to spend a night with the 
 Ettrick Shepherd. He himself stood up at the corner of 
 one of Watson's largest bedrooms to receive the company* 
 as it poured in. Each man, as he brought in his train, 
 would endeavour to introduce each to him separately, but 
 would be cut short by the lion with his bluff good-humoured 
 declaration : " Ou ay, we '11 be a' weel acquent by and by." 
 
CANDLEMAKER-RO W FESTIVAL. 257 
 
 * The first two clans would perhaps find chairs, the next 
 would get the bed to sit upon ; all after that, had to stand. 
 This room being speedily filled, those who came subse- 
 quently would be shewn into another bedroom. When it 
 was filled too, another would be thrown open, and still the 
 cry was : " They come ! " At length, about ten o'clock, 
 when nearly the whole house seemed " panged " with people, 
 as he would have himself expressed it, supper would be 
 announced. Then such a rushing and thronging through 
 the passages, tip-stairs and down-stairs, such a tramping, 
 such a crushing, and such a laughing and roaring withal 
 for, in the very anticipation of such a supper, there was 
 more fun than is experienced at twenty ordinary assemblages 
 of the same kind. All the warning Mr Watson had got 
 from Mr Hogg about this affair was a hint, in passing out 
 that morning, that twae-three lads had been speaking of 
 supping there that night. Watson, however, knew of old 
 what was meant by twae-three^ and had laid out his largest 
 room with a double range of tables, sufficient to accommo- 
 date some sixty or seventy people. Certain preliminaries 
 have in the meantime been settled in the principal bed- 
 room. Mr Taylor, commissioner of police for the ward 
 which contains the Candlemaker Row, is to take the chair 
 for a commissioner of police in his own ward is greater 
 than the most eminent literary or professional person present 
 who has no office connected with the locality. Mr Thomson, 
 bailie of Easter Portsburgh, and Mr Gray, moderator of 
 the Society of High Constables, as the next most important 
 local officials present, are to be croupiers. Mr Hogg is to 
 support Mr Taylor on the right, and a young member of 
 the bar is to support him on the left. 
 
 ' In then gushes the company, bearing the bard of Kilmeny 
 along like a leaf on the tide. The great men of the night 
 take their seats as arranged, while others seat themselves as 
 they can. Ten minutes are spent in pushing and pressing, 
 and there is after all a cluster of Seatless, who look very 
 stupid and nonplussed till all is put to rights by the rigging 
 
 Q 
 
258 MEMOIR. 
 
 out of a table along the side of the room. At length all is 
 arranged ; and then, what a strangely miscellaneous com- 
 pany is found to have been gathered together ! Meal-dealers 
 are there from the Grassmarket, genteel and slender young 
 men from the Parliament House, printers from the Cowgate, 
 and booksellers from the New Town. Between a couple of 
 young advocates sits a decent grocer from Bristo Street ; 
 and amidst a host of shop-lads from the Luckenbooths, is 
 perched a stiffish young probationer, who scarcely knows 
 whether he should be here or not, and has much dread that 
 the company will sit late. Jolly, honest-like bakers, in 
 pepper-and-salt coats, give great uneasiness to squads of 
 black coats in juxtaposition with them ; and several dainty- 
 looking youths, in white neckcloths and black silk eye-glass 
 ribbons, are evidently much discomposed by a rough tyke 
 of a horse-dealer who has got in amongst them, and keeps 
 calling out all kinds of coarse jokes to a crony about thirteen 
 men off on the same side of the table. Many of Mr Hogg's 
 Selkirkshire store-farming friends are there, with their well- 
 oxygenated complexions and Dandie-Dinmont-like bulk of 
 figure ; and in addition to all comers, Mr Watson himself, 
 and nearly the whole of the people residing in his house at 
 the time. If a representative assembly had been made up 
 from all classes of the community, it could not have been 
 more miscellaneous than this company, assembled by a 
 man to whom, in the simplicity of his heart, all company 
 seemed alike acceptable. 
 
 'When supper was finished, the chairman proceeded to 
 the performance of his arduous duties. After the approved 
 fashion in municipal and other public convivialities, he 
 proposed, with all the honours, the King, the Royal Family, 
 the Navy and Army, and all the other loyal and patriotic 
 toasts, before he judged it fit to introduce the toast of the 
 evening. He then rose and called for a real a genuine 
 bumper. " Gentlemen," said he, " we are assembled here this 
 evening in honour of one who has distinguished himself in 
 the poetical line ; and it is now my pleasing duty to propose 
 
CANDLEMAKER-ROW FESTIVAL. 259 
 
 his health. Gentlemen, I could have wished to escape this 
 duty, as I feel myself altogether incapable of doing justice to 
 it ; it is my only support in the trying circumstances in which 
 I have been placed, that little can be required to recommend 
 the toast to you. (Cheers.) Mr Hogg is an old acquaintance 
 of mine, and I have read his works. He has had the merit 
 of raising himself from a humble station to a high place 
 amongst the literary men of his country. You have all felt 
 his powers as a poet in his Queens Wake. When I look 
 around me, gentlemen, at the respectable company here 
 assembled when I see so many met to do honour to one 
 who was once but a shepherd on a lonely hill I cannot but 
 feel, gentlemen, that much has been done by Mr Hogg, and 
 that it is something fine to be a poet. (Great applause.) 
 Gentlemen, the name of Hogg has gone over the length and 
 breadth of the land, and wherever it is known, it is held as 
 one of those which do our country honour. It is associated 
 with the names of Burns and Scott, and, like theirs, it will 
 never die. Proud I am to see such a man amongst us, and 
 long may he survive to reap his fame, and to gratify the 
 world with new effusions of his genius ! Gentlemen, the 
 health of Mr Hogg, with all the honours." The toast was 
 accordingly drunk with great enthusiasm, amidst which the 
 Shepherd rose to make his usual acknowledgment : " Gentle- 
 men, I was ever proud to be called a poet, but I never was 
 so proud as I am this nicht," &c. 
 
 'This part of the business over, the chairman and croupiers 
 began to do honour to civic matters. The chairman gave 
 the Magistrates of Edinburgh, to which Mr Thomson, one 
 of the croupiers, felt himself bound to return thanks. Mr 
 Thomson then gave the Commissioners of Police, which 
 brought the chairman upon his legs. " Messrs Croupiers 
 and Gentlemen," said he, " I rise, as a humble member of 
 the body just named, to thank you, in the name of that 
 body, and my own, for this unexpected honour. I believe 
 I may say for this body, that they do the utmost in their 
 power to merit the confidence of their constituents, and that, 
 
260 MEMOIR. 
 
 if they ever fail in anything to give satisfaction, it is not 
 for want of a desire to succeed. But let arithmetic speak 
 for us. You all know that the police affairs of the city 
 were formerly administered at an expense to you of no 
 less than one-and-sixpence a pound on the valued rental. 
 And you all know what a system it was, how negligent, 
 inefficient, and tyrannical. Now, gentlemen, our popularly 
 elected commission has been seven years in existence, 
 during all which time we have watched, and lighted, and 
 cleaned you at thirteenpence halfpenny ! " (Great and pro- 
 longed cheering.) 
 
 'There is now for two hours no more of Hogg. The 
 commissioners, bailies, and moderators, have the ball at 
 their foot, and not another man can get in a word. Every 
 imaginable public body in the city, from the University to 
 the Potterrow Friendly Society, is toasted, most of them 
 with the honours. Then they come to individuals. A 
 croupier proposes the chairman, and the chairman proposes 
 the croupiers. One of the latter gentlemen has a gentleman 
 in his eye, to whom the public has been much indebted, and 
 whose presence is always acceptable, and after a long pre- 
 amble of panegyric, out comes the name the honoured name 
 of Mr John Jaap, ex-resident commissioner of police for the 
 next ward. It is all in vain for Mr Hogg's literary or profes- 
 sional friends to raise their voices amidst such a host of 
 bourgeoisie. The spirit of the Candlemaker Row and Bristo 
 Street rules the hour, and all else must give way, as small 
 minorities ought to do. Amidst the storm of civic toasts, a 
 little thickish man, in a faded velvet waistcoat and strong-ale 
 nose, rises with great solemnity, and, addressing the chair, 
 begs leave to remind the company of a very remarkable 
 omission which has been made. " Gentlemen," said he, " I 
 am sure, when I mention my toast, you will all feel how 
 much we have been to blame in delaying it so long. It is 
 a toast, gentlemen, which calls in a peculiar manner for the 
 sympathies of us all. It is a toast, gentlemen, which I am 
 sure needs no recommendation from me, but which only 
 
CANDLEMAKER-RO W FESTIVAL. 261 
 
 requires to be mentioned in order to call up all that feeling 
 which such a toast ever ought to call up a toast, gentle- 
 men, a toast such as seldom occurs. Some, perhaps, 
 are not aware of an incident of a very interesting nature 
 which has taken place in the family of one of our 
 worthy croupiers this morning. It has not yet been 
 announced in the papers, but it probably will be so to- 
 morrow. In the meantime I need only say 'Mrs Gray, 
 of a daughter/ (Cheering from all parts of the house.) On 
 such an occasion, gentlemen, you will not think me unreason- 
 able if I ask you to get up, and drink, with all the honours, 
 a bumper to Mrs Gray and her sweet and interesting charge." 
 (Drunk with wild joy by all present.) 
 
 'About two o'clock in the morning, after the second 
 reckoning has been called and paid by general contribution, 
 Mr Taylor leaves the chair, which is taken by the young 
 advocate. Other citizenly men, including the croupiers, 
 soon after glide off, not liking to stay out late from their 
 families. As the company diminishes in number, it increases 
 in mirth, and at last the extremities of the table are aban- 
 doned, and the thinned host gathers in one cluster of intense 
 fun and good-fellowism around the chair. Hogg now shines 
 out for the first time in all his lustre, tells stories, sings, and 
 makes all life and glee. The Laird d Lamington, the 
 Women Folk, and Paddy O'Rafferty, his three most comic 
 ditties, are given with a force and fire that carries all before 
 it. About this time, however, the reporters withdraw, so that 
 it is not in our power to state any further particulars of the 
 Candlemaker-Row Festival 
 
 ' The Shepherd now reposes beneath the sod of his native 
 Ettrick, all the sorrows and joys of his checkered career 
 hushed with his own breath, and not a stone to point pale 
 Scotia's way, to pour her sorrows o'er her poet's dust. 
 While thus recalling, for the amusement of an idle hour, 
 some of the whimsical scenes in which we have met James 
 Hogg, let it not be supposed that we think of him only with 
 
262 MEMOIR. 
 
 a regard to the homely manners, the social good-nature, 
 and the unimportant foibles, by which he was characterised. 
 The world amidst which he moved was but too apt, especially 
 of late years, to regard him in these lights alone, forgetting 
 that, beneath his rustic plaid, there beat one of the kindest 
 and most unperverted of hearts, while his bonnet covered 
 the head from which had sprung Kilmeny and Donald 
 Macdonald. Hogg, as an untutored man, was a prodigy, 
 much more so than Burns, who had had comparatively a 
 good education ; and now that he is dead and gone, we 
 look around in vain for a living hand capable of awaking 
 the national lyre. The time will probably come when this 
 inspired rustic will be more justly appreciated.' 
 
 One thing leads to another. The continued success 
 of \htjournal brought on, as if by a natural sequence, 
 fresh enterprises, to which, with some assistance, we could 
 give proper attention. In 1833, we projected and issued 
 the work styled Chambers'* Information for the People. 
 It consisted of a series of sheets, on subjects in which 
 distinct information is of importance among the people 
 generally such as the more interesting branches of 
 science, physical, mathematical, and moral; natural 
 history, political history, geography, and literature ; 
 together with papers on fireside amusements and miscel- 
 laneous topics considered to be of popular interest. 
 As latterly improved, the work is comprehended in two 
 octavo volumes illustrated with wood-engravings. First 
 and last, its sale has amounted to upwards of a hundred 
 and seventy thousand sets very nearly two millions of 
 sheets. How far the diffusion of this enormous quan- 
 tity of popularised knowledge at a small price may have 
 proved beneficial, it is not for us to say. The work 
 was reprinted in the United States, but with what 
 success we never heard. With some changes of subject, 
 
EDUCATIONAL COURSE. 263 
 
 a translation appeared in Paris under the title of Instruc- 
 tion pour le Peuple. There was also a translation of a 
 portion of the work into Welsh by Ebenezer Thomas, or 
 Eben the Bard, a person of no mean celebrity in Wales. 
 
 Next, in 1835, was announced and begun a literary 
 undertaking very much more onerous and elaborate. 
 This was Chambers^ Educational Course, consisting of 
 a series of treatises and school-books, constructed 
 according to the most advanced views of education, 
 both as a science and an art. In the series of books 
 which followed, was comprehended a section on physical 
 science, the first time, as far as we were aware, of any- 
 thing of the kind having been attempted in a form 
 addressed to common understandings. Of the series 
 of books my brother wrote several, including History of 
 the British Empire, and History of the English Language 
 and Literature, this being the first time that anything of 
 the kind had been attempted as a class-book. 
 
 To acquire some knowledge of the state of educa- 
 tion, and the nature of the treatises employed, in the 
 kingdom of the Netherlands, I made a deliberate journey 
 through that country in 1838, visiting the schools in the 
 principal towns ; everywhere seeing with much pleasure 
 the satisfactory manner in which the ' religious difficulty,' 
 as it is called, had been overcome. What fell under 
 notice was described in a Tour in Holland and the Rhine 
 Countries (1839), and it vindicated the plan which had 
 been adopted in constructing our Educational Course 
 free of matter that could lead to controversy. No more 
 need be said of the Course than that it met with a 
 friendly reception at home and in the colonies, and that 
 this acceptability is still increasing. 
 
 Writing to his old friend Wilson at Poughkeepsie in 
 
264 MEMOIR. 
 
 1835, my brother says : ' I am continuing to pursue that 
 course of regular plodding industry which you have 
 witnessed since its commencement. Personally, I have 
 now hardly anything to do with business, but I partici- 
 pate with my elder brother in the great advantage of 
 uniting the duties of a publisher with those of an author. 
 Of the Journal, about sixty thousand are now sold ; and 
 in England the circulation is steadily rising. That work 
 seems now indeed received and sanctioned as a powerful 
 moral engine for the regeneration of the middle and 
 lower orders of society. We have just commenced the 
 publication of a series of educational works, designed to 
 embrace education physical, moral, and intellectual 
 according to the most advanced views. To all appear- 
 ance, this will also be a successful undertaking. While 
 my brother has been married two years without any 
 surviving children, I have now no fewer than four. . . . 
 We all enjoy good health ; and I often think I realise 
 in my domestic circle that happiness which authors have 
 endeavoured to represent as visionary. Men, it is 
 allowed, are apt to speak of things as they find them ; 
 and, for my part, I would say that it is possible to lead 
 the life of a literary man without any of those grievances 
 and evil passions which others picture as inseparable 
 from the profession. I envy none, despise none, but, 
 on the contrary, yield due respect to all, whether above 
 or beneath me. I am but little disposed to pine for 
 higher honours than I possess : they come steadily, and 
 I am content to wait till they come. The result is, that 
 hardly such a thing as an annoyance ever breaks the 
 calm tenor of my life, and that there is not one person 
 with whom I was ever acquainted whom I cannot meet 
 as a friend.' 
 
LETTER FROM HUGH MILLER. 265 
 
 From 1835 to 1837, as is seen by my brother's papers, 
 he was in pretty frequent communication with Hugh 
 Miller on literary subjects. Settled at Cromarty as an 
 assistant in a bank, Miller had some spare time on his 
 hands, which he wished to devote to writing stories and 
 other articles for Chambers 's Journal ; the reading of 
 that periodical having apparently been to him a means 
 of mental stimulus. Limits, unfortunately, do not admit 
 of the insertion of Miller's letters in full. In one, 
 dated iQth March 1835, he refers to the difficulties 
 he had encountered in acquiring a facility in writing 
 for the press : 
 
 ' Oblige me by accepting the accompanying volume. It 
 contains, as you will find, a good many heavy pieces, and 
 abounds in all the faults incident to juvenile productions, 
 and to those of the imperfectly taught ; but you may here 
 and there meet with something to amuse you. I have heard 
 of an immensely rich trader who used to say he had more 
 trouble in making his first thousand pounds than in making 
 all the rest. I have experienced something similar to this 
 in my attempts to acquire the art of the writer but I have 
 not yet succeeded in making my first thousand, My forth- 
 coming volume, which I trust I shall be able to send you 
 in a few weeks, will, I hope, better deserve your perusal 
 And yet I am aware it has its heavy pieces too dangerous- 
 looking sloughs of dissertation in which I well-nigh lost 
 myself, and in which I had no small risk of losing my 
 readers. One who sits down to write for the public at a 
 distance of two hundred miles from the capital, has to labour 
 under sad disadvantages in his attempts to catch the tone 
 which chances to be popular at the time ; more especially, 
 if, instead of having formed his literary tastes in that tract 
 of study which all the educated classes have to pass through, 
 he has had to pick them up by himself in nooks and by- 
 corners where scarcely any one ever picked them up before. 
 
266 MEMOIR. 
 
 Among educated men, the starting-note, if I may so express 
 myself, is nearly the same all the world over, and what 
 wonder if the after-tones should harmonise ; but alas for 
 his share of the concert who has to strike up on a key of his 
 own. . . . All my young friends here, and I have a great 
 many, are highly delighted with your volume of Ballads.' 
 
 Some years later, Mr Miller made distinct overtures to 
 be a contributor. Under date i4th September 1837, he 
 writes : 
 
 ' I have been .a reader of your Journal for the last five 
 years a pleased and interested reader ; and a few days ago 
 the thought struck me that, so far at least as one contributor 
 goes, I might also be a writer for it ... I have been 
 writing a good deal of late mostly stories ; but the vehicle 
 in which I have given them to the public ' [a collection of 
 tales] 'does not quite satisfy me. Some of my brother- 
 contributors are rather more stupid than is agreeable in 
 one's associates; and besides, there is less pleasure in 
 writing sense in the name of another than in one's own. 
 Every herring should hang by its own head. May I ask 
 you, without presuming too far on your good-nature and the 
 kindness you have already shewn me, to read one or two of 
 my stories, and say at your convenience whether I might 
 not find some way of disposing of such to better advantage. 
 .... I send you also a copy of verses which I addressed 
 about two years ago to a lady, who has since become my 
 wife. I do not know that they have much else besides their 
 sincerity to recommend them, but sincerity they have. It 
 is, I believe, Cowper who tells us that " the poet's lyre should 
 be the poet's heart" 1 
 
 The articles sent were duly acknowledged and 
 inserted. Others followed in 1838, chiefly of familiar 
 papers on geology. It is one of the things to look 
 back upon with gratification, that Hugh Miller had 
 
CHAMBERS' S ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 267 
 
 been, not only an early reader of, but a contributor of 
 interesting papers to, Chambers 's Journal. 
 
 Shortly after this period, considerable additions were 
 made to our establishment, to meet the requirements 
 of an ever-growing business. It is not the purpose, 
 however, of the present Memoir to diverge into any 
 account of the various enterprises m which we happened 
 to engage. Only two may be mentioned as peculiarly 
 furthering the distribution of a cheap, and, as it was 
 hoped, useful species of publications among the less 
 affluent classes in the community. One of these under- 
 takings was Chambers^ Miscellany of Useful and Enter- 
 taining Tracts, a work completed in twenty volumes, 
 adapted for parish, school, regimental, prison, and similar 
 libraries. The circulation was immense; and to keep 
 the work abreast of the age, it has recently undergone 
 considerable revision. 
 
 The other of these enterprises was one which exceeded 
 all former efforts. This was Chambers' s Encyclopedia^ 
 a Dictionary of Universal Knowledge for the People a 
 work begun in 1859, and which continued to be issued 
 till its completion in ten volumes in 1868. Unless with 
 the assistance of a large and varied body of contributors, 
 a book of this comprehensive nature could not have 
 been attempted; This assistance was procured, and 
 what was of greater importance, Dr Andrew Findlater 
 entered with much spirit into our views, and brought 
 his erudition and habits of assiduous literary labour into 
 exercise as acting editor. For all parties, however, the 
 task was herculean. In commencing the work, my 
 brother and I felt excusable in describing it as our 
 ' crowning effort in cheap and instructive literature.' 
 
 When we entered on the undertaking, it was 
 
268 MEMOIR. 
 
 considerably more than a hundred years since Ephraim 
 Chambers gave to the world his Cyclopedia or Universal 
 Dictionary of Knowledge the prototype, as it proved to 
 be, of a number of similar works in Britain as well as 
 in other countries, which must have contributed in no 
 small measure to increase the sum of general intelli- 
 gence. In nearly all these works there was a tendency 
 to depart from the plan of their celebrated original, as 
 concerns some of the great departments of science, 
 literature, and history; these being usually presented, 
 not under a variety of specific heads, as they commonly 
 occur to our minds when information is required, but 
 aggregated in large and formal treatises, such as in them- 
 selves form books of considerable bulk. By such a 
 course, it is manifest that the serviceableness of an 
 encyclopaedia as a dictionary of reference is greatly 
 impaired, whatever be the advantages which on other 
 points are gained. The Germans, in their Conversations 
 Lexicon, were the first to bring back the encyclopaedia to 
 its original purpose of a dictionary. The Penny Cyclo- 
 pedia was another effort in the same direction, but it 
 was extended to such dimensions as to put it out of the 
 reach of the very classes for whom it was designed. 
 Our object was to give a comprehensive yet handy and 
 cheap Dictionary of Universal Knowledge; no subject 
 being treated at greater length than was absolutely 
 necessary. As now completed, it will be for the world 
 to judge whether the work realises the object aimed at. 
 
 It would have been impossible to give concentrated 
 attention to the various works mentioned, as well as to 
 those of which Robert was exclusively the author or 
 editor, without a proper organisation in one large 
 establishment. As regards Chambers'* Journal, we were 
 
ANNUAL SOIREES. 269 
 
 fortunate in having a succession of able and zealous 
 literary assistants among others, Mr T. Smibert 
 (deceased), Mr W. H. Wills, Mr Leitch Ritchie 
 (deceased), and Mr James Payn to whom be every 
 acknowledgment. 
 
 So aided, and with twelve printing machines set to 
 work, there was at length a fair average produce of 
 fifty thousand sheets of one kind or other daily. Under 
 one roof were combined the operations of editors, com- 
 positors, stereotypers, wood-engravers, printers, book- 
 binders, and other labourers all engaged in the 
 preparation and dispersal of books and periodicals. 
 The assemblage of so many individuals in various 
 departments, actuated by a common purpose, suggested 
 the idea of annual entertainments to all in our employ- 
 ment. The first of these entertainments, which had 
 for its express object the promotion of a good feeling 
 between employers and employed, took place in the 
 summer of 1838. The meeting was in the form of a 
 temperance soire'e, with some slight refreshments and 
 music. It was held in one of the large apartments of 
 our printing-office ; and to grace the assemblage, some 
 persons of local distinction were invited. Among the 
 notabilities who attended on the occasion were Lords 
 Murray and Cunningham, also Mr James Simpson, a 
 keen educationist, but best remembered for his amusing 
 account of a visit to the field of Waterloo, shortly after 
 the battle. Usually at these soirees there were about 
 two hundred of all classes, and of both sexes, present 
 all in evening dress, and joyous for the occasion. In 
 the intervals of the instrumental music, addresses were 
 delivered, and songs were sung; on one occasion, as 
 I have pleasure in remembering, George Thomson 
 
270 MEMOIR. 
 
 delighted the company with the song of the ' Posie,' the 
 warbling of which sent the mind back to 1792, when 
 bur national bard was pouring forth his matchless lyrics. 
 The addresses on both sides were of that friendly nature 
 which was calculated to promote a spirit of mutual 
 amity not to be forgotten. 
 
 The presence of my mother was a pleasing feature 
 at the earlier of these annual soire'es. Now at an 
 advanced age, but retaining her buoyancy of feelings, 
 she entered sympathisingly into the spirit of the occa- 
 sion. Grateful for many unexpected blessings, her 
 existence drew placidly to a close. She died in 1843, 
 having exemplified in her life the brightest virtues that 
 can adorn the matronly character. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 ROBERT'S LATER WORKS 1842 TO 1865. 
 
 r ~PHERE is no pleasing everybody. My brother's 
 * connection with Chamber J s Journal gave no small 
 dissatisfaction to a writer who affected to mourn over 
 his desertion of what at one time promised to confer 
 'distinction in the historical and antiquarian depart- 
 ments of literature.' So much (and a good deal more) 
 was querulously said of him in a leading critical organ 
 in 1842. The accomplished reviewer who, in a spirit 
 of patronising sorrow, fell into this disconsolate frame 
 of mind, had wholly failed to remember that the most 
 precious writings of Steele and Addison made their 
 appearance in penny papers ; that the classic essays of 
 Johnson were issued originally in the same form ; and 
 that the immortal fiction of Defoe first appeared chapter 
 by chapter in the columns of a London newspaper. 
 Forgetting all that, and possessing no sympathy with 
 the cause of popular enlightenment, the lofty-minded 
 reviewer perceived only a lamentable loss of caste for 
 all who attempted to give their ideas to the world at 
 anything under the quality of a handsome twelve-shilling 
 octavo, fit for the ' English library.' 
 
 The critic was a little rash in his speculations. So 
 
272 MEMOIR. 
 
 far from devoting himself exclusively to the cheap 
 periodical which roused so much temper, Robert 
 continued to employ a large portion of his time on 
 separate works, which raised him considerably in the 
 estimation of the literary world. Abstaining from inter- 
 ference in public affairs, for which he never had any 
 aptitude, his life was now, as it had been for many years, 
 that of a literary recluse, who indulges in but a limited 
 amount of recreation. His papers for Chambers 's Journal 
 occupied him for only one or two days a week. At the 
 very time he was so unceremoniously called in question, 
 he had completed, in conjunction with Professor Wilson, 
 a most elaborate work on the Land of Burns, which, 
 extending to two highly embellished quarto volumes, is 
 understood to have rewarded the enterprise of the 
 publishers by whom it had been undertaken. 
 
 The success of his small educational book on English 
 literature led to the conception of a work vastly more 
 comprehensive. He projected a Cyclopedia of English 
 Literature that should form a history, critical and 
 biographical, of British authors, from the earliest to the 
 present times, accompanied with a systematised series 
 of extracts a concentration of the best productions of 
 English intellect, headed by Chaucer, Shakspeare, 
 Milton by More, Bacon, Locke by Hooker, Taylor, 
 Barrow by Addison, Johnson, Goldsmith by Hume, 
 Robertson, Gibbon and more lately by Byron and 
 Scott set in a biographical and critical history of the 
 literature itself. This was certainly no mean enterprise. 
 The end which, if possible, was to be attained, was the 
 training of an entire people to venerate the thoughtful 
 and eloquent of the past and present times. 'These 
 gifted beings,' it was justly observed, ' may be said to 
 
LE TTER FR OM l DEL TA .' 273 
 
 have endeared our language and institutions our 
 national character, and the very scenery and artificial 
 objects which mark our soil to all who are acquainted 
 with, and can appreciate their writings.' 
 
 It being impossible, with all his self-sacrificing dili- 
 gence, to execute so onerous a task single-handed, my 
 brother besought and received the aid of his friend, Dr 
 Robert Carruthers of Inverness, who, both by his literary 
 tastes and professional pursuits, was eminently qualified 
 to co-operate in the undertaking. Completed in two 
 volumes octavo, and issued in 1844, the Cyclopadia of 
 English Literature had a most successful career, and 
 continues to be popular, not only for private reading, 
 but as a book for the higher class of students. 
 
 In 1847 were issued his Select Writings, in seven 
 volumes, for which several characteristic illustrations were 
 furnished by David Roberts, R.A. A copy having been 
 presented by the author to his friend, D. M. Moir 
 the 'Delta' of Blackwood it was acknowledged as 
 follows : 
 
 * Allow me to congratulate you on the publication of your 
 Select Writings a thing which you owe to yourself and your 
 family, and of which both will have reason to be proud. . . . 
 In these days of flash and fury, when a certain class of 
 writers seem to think that a work is valuable only in as far 
 as it departs from the regions of good taste and common 
 sense, the essays will stand forth as a beacon to the unwary, 
 and as a token that some minds have escaped the infection. 
 Nor can I doubt that they will attain a large degree of 
 popularity, which they deserve. In last night glancing 
 through the volumes, I have again made myself more 
 intimate with many old acquaintances highly characteristic 
 of Scotland and the author, and equally creditable to our 
 " auld respectit mother," and to her son.' 
 
 R 
 
274 MEMOIR. 
 
 It will probably be allowed that the essays compre- 
 hended in three volumes of these Select Writings, were 
 the most original of my brother's productions. In them 
 were seen his depth of thought on moral and economic 
 subjects, also his sense of humour, with power of dis- 
 criminating character. Readers of Chambers 's Journal will 
 remember the recurring weekly pleasure of reading these 
 essays : ' General Invitations,' ' The Pleasures of Unhap- 
 piness/ 'The House of Numbers,' 'The Unconfined,' 
 ' Danger of Appearing Ill-used,' 'The Downdraught,' &c. 
 In a preceding chapter, a specimen of the more humorous 
 class of papers is given in 'The Candlemaker-Row 
 Festival.' Perhaps in the whole round of his four to 
 five hundred leading articles, none was more appreciated 
 for the delicacy of its conceptions than one which is 
 now brought back to light 
 
 IDEA OF AN ENGLISH GIRL. 
 
 '"Girl" is a word of delightful sense. It suggests ideas 
 of lightness, elegance, and grace, joined to simplicity, 
 innocence, and truth, all embodied in that class of human 
 beings which make the nearest approach to the angelic. 
 The very sound of the word is appropriate it comes upon 
 the ear and the heart like a flourish of fairy trumpets. The 
 letters which compose it seem to be all dancing as they trip 
 along. There is no slur or drag in this exquisite syllable ; 
 it is a kind of perpetual motion. How far the same ideas 
 may be suggested by the corresponding words in other 
 languages I will not stop to inquire ; it is enough for me 
 that our word is suitable to the character of our girls 
 English girls, I mean for the word has nothing to do with 
 Scotland, where "lassie" has its own delicious sense and 
 admirable appropriateness. The English "girl" is the 
 being whom the word was meant to describe, and no being 
 or thing could have a designation more descriptive. 
 
IDEA OF AN ENGLISH GIRL. 275 
 
 ' Neck of lily, cheeks of rose, and eyes of heaven. Hair 
 of sunny auburn, whose tiny tendrils dance with the slightest 
 motion. A face nearer round than oval, but irradiated by 
 the unsetting sun of a kind nature. A figure meek and 
 graceful, wreathed in innocent muslin, and perpetually 
 undulating and bending into lines of beauty. Such is the 
 fair Saxon girl of Old England, as she grows in some 
 sheltered nook of the merry land, unsmirched by the smoke 
 and sophistications of cities, and little knowing of any other 
 world than the little one which forms her home. It is the 
 fortune of few eyes to behold this fair girl, for her parents 
 prefer a life of retirement ; but to the few who have once 
 seen her, she is as the recollection of the Caaba is to the 
 Mohammedan pilgrim an idea to-be cherished for ever. 
 She chiefly holds intercourse with nature with the more 
 beautiful parts of it for there is a sympathy in lovely things 
 that makes them love one another. She dotes upon flowers 
 fair roses, sisters to herself, and rhododendrons that strive 
 to match her in stature : nor is there even a little violet in 
 the garden but every day exchanges with her kind looks, as 
 if the dewdrop lurking in it were a mirror to her own 
 smiling loveliness, diminishing the object, but not leaving a 
 lineament unexpressed. Out of these troops of floral friends 
 she is ever and anon choosing some one more endeared 
 than the rest, to wear for a while in her bosom a preference 
 which might make those which remained die sooner than 
 that which was cropped. Her favourite seat is under a 
 laburnum, which seems to be showering a new birth of 
 beauty upon her head. There she sits in the quiet of nature, 
 thinking thoughts as beautiful as flowers, with feelings as 
 gentle as the gales which fan them. She knows no evil, 
 and therefore she does none. Untouched by earthly experi- 
 ences, she is perfectly happy and the happy are good. 
 
 * Affection remains in her as a treasure, hereafter to be 
 brought into full use. As yet she only spends a small share 
 of the interest of her heart's wealth upon the objects around 
 her : the principal will on some future and timely day be 
 
276 MEMOIR. 
 
 given to one worthy, I hope, to possess a thing so valuable. 
 Meanwhile, she loves as a daughter and a sister may do. 
 Every morning and evening she comes to her parents with 
 her pure and unharming kiss ; nor, when some cheerful 
 brother returns from college or from counting-house to 
 enliven home for a brief space, is the same salutation 
 wanting to assure him of the continuance of her most sweet 
 regards. Often, too, she is found intertwining her loveliness 
 with that of her sisters arm clasping waist, and neck 
 crossing neck, and bosom pressed to bosom till all seems 
 one inextricable knot of beauty. No jealousy, no guile, no 
 envy no more than what possesses a bunch of lilies grow- 
 ing from the same stem. She has some spare fondness, 
 moreover, for a variety of pets in the lower orders of 
 creation. There are chickens which will leave the richest 
 morsels at the sound of her voice, and little dogs which will 
 give up yelping, even at the most provoking antagonists, if 
 she only desires them. Her chief favourite, however, is a 
 lamb, which follows her wherever she goes, a heaven-sent 
 emblem of herself. To see her fondling this spotless 
 creature on the green innocence reposing upon innocence 
 you might suppose the golden age had returned, and 
 that there was to be no more wickedness seen on earth. 
 
 'Our " English girl " may be seen in various places. You 
 meet her on a walk, and are charmed with her fresh com- 
 plexion and blue modest eyes, as half seen under the averted 
 bonnet. Then there are her neat shoes and white stockings, 
 so pretty as compared with the hard outline of the booted 
 foot, in which the ladies of other countries delight. There 
 are also her gauzy frock, and its streaming sashes and 
 ribbons, and her hair depending in massy ringlets adown 
 her lovely neck. The whole figure breathes of the free 
 and pure mind which animates it. At another time she is 
 found in some pretty withdrawing-room, whose casements 
 open upon flowery walks or green verandas. Her head 
 is now invested only with the grace of nature her flowing 
 hair. Her countenance, instead of being flushed, as in the 
 
IDEA OF AN ENGLISH GIRL. 277 
 
 other case, by the open air, beams from the gentle toil of 
 some domestic duty in which she has been assisting her 
 mother. 
 
 * Appropriate to her late task, she still wears her neat 
 apron, edged with blue trimming, and from the front 
 of which perk out two smart provoking-looking pockets, 
 which gush over with all kinds of female paraphernalia, 
 such as scissors, cotton-balls, and knitting-wires. You 
 enter, and, being a friend of the family, she is so glad to 
 see you. In five minutes you know all about the accom- 
 plishments of her canaries, the late behaviour of Bob the 
 spaniel, an accident which happened that morning to her 
 best frock, and the annual which she has received as a 
 "present " from a friend," as the inscription has it and here 
 she evidently wishes you rather to look into the inside of 
 the book than dwell on the initial pages. She has also a 
 few of the nothings called "ladies' work," light visionary 
 fabrics of card and wafers, which she has been executing 
 for a charity sale that is soon to take place : these are all 
 brought out and displayed before you. Then there is her 
 album, with holograph poems by three authors of reputa- 
 tion, and a thousand contributions, both original and 
 selected, from less distinguished persons the whole being 
 garnished by her own drawings. All these things you must 
 inspect, for she only shews them in the hope of enter- 
 taining you ; and then she turns to music. 
 
 'She has had selections from the last opera sent to her, and 
 these she runs over, for your amusement, on the pianoforte ; 
 carefully taking you bound, however, to observe that she has 
 not yet sufficiently practised them to be quite perfect in their 
 execution. In truth you little need such apologies for her defi- 
 ciencies. It is not for her external accomplishments though 
 these are considerable that you value this fair specimen of 
 humanity. You appreciate her for her beauty, which nature 
 could never have conferred if it had not been intended as a 
 reverence-compelling merit for her gentle and artless nature, 
 so well enshrined in that form of native and indefeasible 
 
278 MEMOIR. 
 
 grace and because, by dwelling on the contemplation of 
 such a being, your estimation of your kind is elevated ; a 
 gratification in itself, and one of the highest order. 
 
 ' Such is the " English girl," as she still exists in many of 
 the happy homes throughout this pleasant land. She is 
 one of the creations of nature, which, though decaying in 
 generations, live nevertheless for ever as a race. It would 
 be as absurd to expect that the next spring should fail to 
 prank the sod of England with primroses, as to suppose 
 that there will ever be a time with us when the cheeks of 
 girls shall not bloom, and their hearts cease to be stored 
 with those blessed influences which tend so much to cheer 
 the rest of their kind. We may be ruined twice over in 
 the newspapers but there will never be a time when the 
 lover of nature shall want objects to solace himself withal. 
 For him shall the ground year after year be covered with 
 a new robe of green, the trees redress their dishevelled 
 locks, the flowers once more put on their bloom ; and for 
 him there shall never be wanting sweet faces decked with 
 maiden smiles, and painted with perennial roses, to assure 
 him that England is still "right at the heart.'" 
 
 It might almost be conjectured that my brother's 
 1 Idea of an English Girl ' had been partly suggested by 
 the unaffected manners and happy looks of one or other 
 of* his own daughters. Essentially what is called a 
 'family man/ he experienced immense delight in the 
 society of his children, who were treated with the utmost 
 tenderness and consideration. Ultimately, he had eight 
 daughters and three sons the daughters charming girls, 
 most of them with flaxen ringlets, all with pet names, 
 and so merry and entertaining, that their presence shed 
 a continual sunshine through the dwelling. Two of the 
 girls Janet and Eliza were twins, and so closely 
 resembled each other, that you could scarcely have told 
 one from the other a circumstance which was often 
 
A LAY OF ABBE Y PARK. 279 
 
 diverting in its consequences. Clustered round their 
 mother, Mrs R. Chambers, a woman of brilliant musical 
 powers, much vivacity, and of literary tastes the ' Mrs 
 Balderston ' of a number of amusing essays the evening 
 musical parties were now more enjoyable than ever ; 
 for, by way of variety, the girls in their childish glee 
 would sing together some droll and lively ditty, to the 
 delight of the company. 
 
 For some purpose connected with his young family, 
 my brother removed to St Andrews ; his residence being 
 a villa called Abbey Park, prettily situated outside the 
 town. While here in 1843, he interspersed his usual liter- 
 ary occupations with writing pieces of verse concerning 
 his children, the daughters, of course, coming in for the 
 largest share of these rhyming fancies. To shew how 
 a literary man may gracefully unbend from graver studies 
 to amuse the innocent beings around him, I copy the 
 following verses from his note-book, under date 1843. 
 
 A LAY OF ABBEY PARK. 
 
 The King of the Fairies was wanting a wife, 
 
 And thought he would try the kingdom of Fife : 
 
 So he came to St Andrews, where soon the gay spark 
 
 Found his way through the town to sweet Abbey Park ; 
 
 Rung the bell, was shewn in, made an elegant bow. 
 
 Mrs Chambers requested that he'd take a chair ; 
 He did so, but said that he scarcely knew how 
 
 To begin to inform her about his affair : 
 The fact was, the Queen of the Fairies was dead, 
 And he wanted again to be happily wed j 
 So, hearing reports of the six Misses C., 
 
 All blooming and handsome (though not much purse 1 ), 
 He thought how exceedingly nice it would be 
 
 If one would take him for better for worse. 
 His queen, he said, was kept not ill 
 
 Phi-money handsome, a coach of her own, 
 
280 MEMOIR. 
 
 A palace built snug in the side of a hill ; 
 
 And further, he said, he could not depone. 
 Mamma thought the offer a capital chance, 
 So she called in her troop like an opera dance, 
 And told his kingship that he might 
 At least of her beauties have a sight ; 
 Papa, she said, would soon be in 
 
 (For he, good man, had gone to golf), 
 When they might talk of it chin to chin, 
 
 And so it would either be on or off. 
 Just then comes in Pa, hears the story, quite grave : 
 *' Well, which would your majesty choose to have ? 
 Here 's Jane, the eldest, we '11 begin with her, 
 Or I never would hear an end of the stir." 
 *' Oh," says the king, " she 's too much grown, 
 A full head taller than me, you '11 own." 
 " Well, here 's our charming maid, Miss Mary, 
 Who seems already one half a fairy 
 The dark gazelle, the Andalusian !" 
 " Oh, such eyes in my kingdom would breed confusion 
 " Then here 's Miss Annie, an honest young woman, 
 Who is fond of everything that 's at all uncommon ; 
 
 Although in good sense surpassed by few " 
 
 " Oh, a blonde in Fairyland won't do." 
 
 " Well, here are our twins ; and first Jenny, 
 
 A gentle, benevolent sort of a henny, 
 
 Who would tend you kindly if you were sick 
 
 Next pranksome Lizz, full of fun and trick." 
 
 " Oh, these are but one, though two appear ; 
 
 I couldn't take half a queen, I fear. 
 
 I rather would err on the other side, 
 
 And have something more than one for my bride." 
 
 Delighted, cries Pa : " Here 's the very thing, 
 
 Our Major Amelia, who well can sing, 
 
 For she 's two pretty misses in one !" 
 
 At once, then, the king cried : " Done, sir ; done ! " 
 
 So Amelia was dressed in a frock of green, 
 
 And away she tripped as the Fairy Queen, 
 
 And at Abbey Park ne'er again was seen.' 
 
GEOLOGICAL INVESTIGATIONS. 281 
 
 In 1840, Robert was elected a member of the Royal 
 Society of Edinburgh, from which time to 1850 he 
 carried on an extensive epistolary correspondence with 
 men of literary and scientific repute ; and at this 
 period he often visited London, where he mingled in 
 the society of men of letters. His mind had become 
 occupied with speculative theories which brought him 
 into communication with Sir Charles Bell, George 
 Combe, his brother Dr Andrew Combe, Dr Neil Arnott, 
 Professor Edward Forbes, Dr Samuel Brown, and other 
 thinkers on physiology and mental philosophy. Of Sir 
 Charles Bell, he says in a note, on hearing of the sudden 
 death of that eminent surgeon and physiologist (1842) : 
 'Sir Charles was my father at the Royal Society a 
 most ingenious excellent man.' He had likewise, in a 
 more particular manner, acquired a fancy for geological 
 investigations, which introduced him to another class of 
 inquirers. Returning to Edinburgh, and residing at 
 Doune Terrace, his house was open to all strangers of 
 literary or scientific tastes who were pleased to visit 
 him ; and he now may be said to have acquired a wide 
 circle of acquaintances. His conversaziones at this 
 period will still be remembered. Often they had some 
 specific object, such as shewing antiquities of historical 
 interest, and saying something regarding them for the 
 amusement of the guests ; or of discussing some curious 
 point in geology that had lately been exciting remark 
 for example, the traces of glacial action disclosed on the 
 face of a huge boulder by the cutting of the Queen' s 
 Drive on Arthur's Seat. With such phenomena as this 
 he was familiar, as is seen by his communications to the 
 Royal Society of Edinburgh. 
 
 My brother took up geology, not as a plaything, but 
 
282 MEMOIR. 
 
 as a matter to be pursued with his usual quiet earnest- 
 ness of purpose. He went off from time to time on 
 trips to different parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland; 
 his explorations, however, being confined in a great 
 measure to the sea-coast, the shores of lakes, and banks 
 of rivers, in order to trace the mutations that had in the 
 course of ages taken place on the earth's surface, as 
 regards the relative level of sea and land. 
 
 These excursions in quest of ' raised beaches,' resem- 
 bling artificial terraces on the face of hills and rising 
 grounds at some hundreds of feet above the present 
 surface of the ocean, were carried on with a steady 
 enthusiasm for a series of years. He, in particular, took 
 much interest in elucidating the character of the ' parallel 
 roads of Glenroy,' which, by inveterate legend, had been 
 represented as pathways constructed for the Fingallian 
 heroes. Pennant thought it probable that the country 
 people were right in entertaining this legendary notion. 
 Playfair considered that the * roads' were the remains 
 of ancient aqueducts. Dr Macculloch, followed by Sir 
 Thomas Dick Lauder, endeavoured to explain that 
 they were produced by fresh- water lakes which from 
 time to time had burst out By M. Agassiz, Dr 
 Buckland, and Mr Lyell, the 'roads' were imputed 
 to glacial action. Mr Darwin pronounced them to 
 be a result of upheaval of the land. This theory met 
 with a formidable challenge from Mr David Milne 
 (now Mr Milne-Home), who very satisfactorily shewed 
 that the ' roads ' were markings left by successive retro- 
 cessions of the sea at an early period of the earth's 
 history. Such views coincided with those of my ^brother, 
 who, besides accompanying Mr Milne on some gf his 
 explorations, went alone to Glenroy, and made minute 
 
PAPA'S GEOLOGICAL EXCURSION. 283 
 
 investigations all over the district, as will be seen by his 
 work, Ancient Sea-Margins (1848), in which the whole 
 subject is treated with his usual lucidity. 
 
 While absent on expeditions of this kind, he occa- 
 sionally sent home rhyming accounts of the places he 
 visited, in order to amuse, and have himself pleasantly 
 remembered by, his children. Of these communications, 
 the following specimen may be offered, for it helps to 
 illustrate the character of the writer. It is dated 
 February 16, 1847, and entitled 
 
 PAPA'S GEOLOGICAL EXCURSION. 
 
 Charming May and honest Annie, 
 Pranksome Lizz and radiant Jenny, 
 Tuck * the screamer, Jack and Willy, 
 One and all, this comes to tell ye, 
 That Papa has got to Chester, 
 After spending many a tester. 
 (Look your map, and you will see 
 How it stands upon the Dee.) 
 "Where he's been, if you should question, 
 Know he spent night first at Preston ; 
 See it stand upon the Kibble, 
 Which, I 'ssure you, is no dribble ; 
 Here he found some first-rate beaches ; 
 Leaped he for them fifty ditches ; 
 Waded mud-seas o'er the instep, 
 And took many a thick and thin step. 
 Then, he came to see if Liver- 
 Pool and Birkenhead had ever 
 Been in Neptune's deep dominion; 
 That they were in his opinion, 
 And he means in time to shew it, 
 Meanwhile, you are first to know it. 
 Now he has invaded Cheshire, 
 Where he means to take his pleasure 
 
 * Tuckey was the pet name for Amelia. 
 
284 MEMOIR. 
 
 All to-morrow with his level, 
 
 Dee's old beaches to unravel. 
 
 Then, he 's off like crack of pistol, 
 
 Stopping not till he reach Bristol ; 
 
 Where he will redd up the Severn, 
 
 Though the world should think him haiverin*. 
 
 Last to London, wet or dry, 
 
 He must be, on morn of Friday. 
 
 Now, kind love to Aunty Betty, 
 
 Who, I hope, won't too much pet ye ; 
 
 To Miss Wood,* Pa's humble service, 
 
 Fearing much she will grow nervous, 
 
 With a task there is no blinking, 
 
 Setting five thick headies thinking. 
 
 But let that fly stick t' the wa' 
 
 No more at present from PAPA. 
 
 A successful surgical operation on his foot a few years 
 previously, enabled him to encounter these fatigues, and 
 to extend his explorations to foreign countries. In the 
 summer of 1848, he visited Rhineland and Switzerland, 
 with a view to satisfy himself on the subject of glacial 
 action, the theories regarding which, of Agassiz and 
 Forbes, had lately raised much interest among geologists. 
 As Norway was known to offer some striking examples of 
 the effects produced by glaciers, he resolved to proceed 
 thither. Quitting Edinburgh in the latter part of June 
 1849, he arrived at Gottenburg, from which he made 
 a journey through Sweden and Norway sometimes 
 going by steam-vessels, sometimes by carioles, and at 
 other times by boats on the fiords that indent the 
 coast ; but always making explorations on foot wherever 
 it was expedient to do so. The result of the excur- 
 sion was given in a series of papers in Chambers'* 
 Journal at the close of 1849 and beginning of 1850, 
 
 * Governess to the young ladies. 
 
A VISIT TO NORWA K 285 
 
 under the title of Tracings of the North of Europe. 
 Besides any scientific value attaching to these papers, 
 they offered amusing sketches of the social condition of 
 the country as far as Hammerfest, or nearly to the 
 seventy-first degree of north latitude. 
 
 The accounts given of the simple politeness and 
 kindly hospitality of the people form the most agreeable 
 part of the narrative. These qualities were well exem- 
 plified when boating with some fellow-travellers in the 
 Altenfiord. A few passages may here be presented : 
 
 SCENE IN NORWAY. 
 
 * In the afternoon, after rowing upwards of twenty miles, 
 we began to approach Komagfiord, where we designed to 
 spend the night. The washed, shattered coast here presents 
 remarkable disturbances of the slate strata, with curious 
 interjections, veinings, and contortions. Many blocks ap- 
 pear, lying on the slate, of totally different kinds of rock, 
 and therefore presumably brought from a distance. By- 
 and-by terraces begin to appear, with many of these travelled 
 blocks reposing on them. Such stones speak, and the tale 
 which they tell is as truthful, perhaps more truthful, than 
 most of those narrated in black and white. 
 
 * At length, at an early hour of the evening, we turned 
 into a comparatively small, but sheltered and almost land- 
 locked recess, where we first see palings along the green 
 hill-sides, indicating pastoral farming, and then a neat house 
 seated a little way back from the shore, with a number of 
 smaller buildings scattered near it, including one which 
 advances as a wharf into the sea. That pretty red and 
 yellow mansion, so riant with its clean dimity window- 
 curtains, and a little garden in front, is the kiopman's house 
 of Komagfiord. It has a small porch in the centre, with 
 a wooden esplanade and a short flight of steps descending 
 on either hand. A good-looking man, in the prime of life, 
 leans over the rail at the wharf to receive us as we land. 
 
286 MEMOIR. 
 
 We are met by him with a few courteous words in English ; 
 we present our letter of recommendation for Mr Buch, 
 the kiopman, who presently appears, a bulkier and older 
 man, of remarkably open genial countenance, reminding 
 me much of Cowper's description, though not exactly true 
 so far as dress is concerned : 
 
 " An honest man, close-buttoned to the chin, 
 Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within." 
 
 He meets us with welcome, and we are speedily conducted, 
 with our baggage, to the house, a few steps from the shore, 
 where we are at once introduced into a clean parlour, 
 adorned with family portraitures and some of the favourite 
 prints of Sweden and Norway, particularly the never-absent 
 royal family. Mr Buch, however, does not speak any lan- 
 guage besides his own. He only looks the welcome he feels. 
 His wife presently appears, a pleasant-looking matron ; like- 
 wise his daughter and sole child, whom we by-and-by dis- 
 cover to be the wife of the younger man. Two or three 
 little children, too, the offspring of the young couple, make 
 their way into the room to see those extraordinary beings 
 the English strangers. The younger man, Mr Fantrom, 
 knowing a good deal of English, we speedily, through that 
 channel, become acquainted with the whole of this amiable 
 family, from whom I was eventually to receive a greater 
 amount of kindness than it almost ever was my lot to 
 experience from strangers. We desired, of course, to be 
 considered as travellers taking advantage in all courtesy of 
 the obligation under which the kiopman lies to receive such 
 persons into his house ; but it will be found that we could 
 not induce our kind hosts to regard us in that light. The 
 family seemed to be in very comfortable circumstances, and 
 the union in which the three generations lived together was 
 beautiful to contemplate. I shall not soon, I trust, forget 
 the kiopman's house of Kamagfiord. 
 
 1 After the refreshment of tea for we had taken a good 
 luncheon at sea we went out to examine the neighbouring 
 
A NOR WEGIAN FAMIL Y. 287 
 
 grounds, and soon ascertained that a terrace of detrital 
 matter and blocks goes entirely round the little valley, at 
 the height of about sixty-four feet above the sea. Walking 
 along it round the angle which divides the fiord from the 
 open sea in Varg Sund, we find it become a terrace of 
 erosion on the rough coast there, with huge blocks every- 
 where encumbering its surface blocks of foreign rock. Mr 
 Fantrom obligingly went along with us over this ground, 
 and seemed glad when I could employ him in holding the 
 levelling staff for a few minutes. We soon found him a 
 very sensible well-informed man, though geology and 
 geodesy were new ideas to his mind. 
 
 ' The latter part of the evening proved extremely beauti- 
 ful, and we were tempted to take seats on the esplanade in 
 front of the door, to enjoy the cool but still balmy air, a 
 delightful refreshment after the heat of the day. The little 
 fiord lay like glass below our feet, with a merchant sloop 
 moored in the entrance ; the rugged mountains beyond the 
 Sound rose clear into the bright blue sky, where the light 
 was yet scarcely dulled. Mr Buch sat down with his long 
 pipe, emitting alternate puffs of smoke, and sentences 
 addressed to his son-in-law and grandchildren. The bustle 
 of Mrs Buch engaged in her household duties made the 
 smallest possible stir within. All besides was as calm as 
 nature before the birth of sound. Having nothing better to 
 do, I proposed at this juncture to bring out my flute, and play 
 a few airs, provided it should be agreeable to all present. 
 
 *This being cordially assented to, I proceeded to intro- 
 duce the music of my native country to these simple- 
 hearted Norwegians. The scenery and time seemed to 
 give magic to what might otherwise perhaps have proved of 
 very little interest ; and finding my audience give unequiv- 
 ocal tokens of being pleased with my performance, I was 
 induced to go on from one tune to another for fully an hour. 
 It was curious to think of my audience hearing for the first 
 time strains which are an inheritance of the heart to every 
 Scottishman from his earliest sense to myself, for instance, 
 
288 MEMOIR. 
 
 since three years old and to reflect on some of our national 
 favourites, as the Flowers of the Forest, Loch Erroch 
 Side, and the Shepherd's Wife, now floating over the 
 unwonted ground of a Norwegian fiord. With each air, 
 in general, the idea of some home friend, with whom it is 
 a favourite, was associated. There was scarcely one which 
 did not take my mind back to some scene endeared by 
 domestic affection, or the love which, in common with 
 every Scot, I cherish for the classic haunts of my native 
 land. It was deeply interesting now to summon up all these 
 associations in succession, in the presence of an alien family 
 who could know nothing of them, and to whom it would 
 have been in vain to explain them, but who, from that very 
 incapability of sympathy, made them in the existing circum- 
 stances fall only the more touchingly and penetratingly into 
 my own spirit.' 
 
 On returning from his northern excursion, my brother 
 set to work on a subject for which he had long been 
 accumulating materials the Life and Works of Robert 
 Burns. As the brilliant and painful history of Burns 
 had been already written by seven of his countrymen, 
 it might seem unnecessary to resume its considera- 
 tion. Something, however, was wanting. There still 
 survived persons who were acquainted with the poet, 
 but they were passing away, and now was the time for 
 gathering from them such facts and reminiscences 
 as might serve for a full and authentic biography. 
 Among others whose memory might be reckoned on, 
 was Burns's youngest sister, Mrs Begg; and she, on 
 being communicated with, entered cordially into the 
 project. George Thomson was also at hand, and glad 
 to be of any service. As regards the works of the 
 poet, a peculiar arrangement was contemplated. This 
 consisted in presenting the various compositions in 
 
LIFE AND WORKS OF BURNS. 289 
 
 strict chronological order, in connection with the narra- 
 tive, so that they might render up the whole light they 
 were qualified to throw upon the history of the life and 
 mental progress of Burns ; at the same time that a new 
 significance was given to them by their being read in 
 connection with the current of events and emotions 
 which led to their production. Acting on this plan, 
 and after minute personal investigations, the Life and 
 Works of Robert Burns was produced in 1850. It was 
 well received, and passed through several editions, to 
 suit different classes of purchasers. 
 
 Already, a small pension on the roll of Her Majesty's 
 Charities and Bounties for Scotland had been granted 
 to Mrs Begg and her two daughters, and some private 
 efforts had been further made in their behalf. My 
 brother set on foot the collection of a fund, which was 
 moderately successful. In writing from Edinburgh, May 
 4, 1842, to his wife at St Andrews, he says : * On 
 Monday, the first-fruits of my application for Burns's 
 sister appeared in two tributes, one of ten pounds 
 from Mr Tegg, bookseller ; the other, ten guineas from 
 Mr Procter, the poet. Isn't that capital?' To increase 
 these resources, the profits of a cheap edition of 
 the Life and Works of Burns were set aside. The 
 sum realised was not great, but it helped. Writing 
 under date May 15, 1856, to James Grant Wilson, son 
 of his friend Wilson of Poughkeepsie, and who had 
 lately been in Scotland, Robert says : ' I am glad you 
 saw old Mrs Begg, but it was a pity to miss the black 
 eyes and intelligent face of her daughter, Isabella, who 
 is a charming creature of her kind and sort, and more 
 a reminiscence of Burns than even her mother. Just 
 about a fortnight ago, W. & R. C. had the pleasure of 
 
 s 
 
2 9 3 MEMOIR. 
 
 handing two hundred pounds to the Misses Begg, being 
 the profits of the cheap edition of the Life and Works 
 of Burns edited by me, as promised by us at the time 
 of publication. This sum will lie at interest accumulat- 
 ing till Mrs Begg and her annuity cease, when, with 
 one hundred and sixty pounds of the fund formerly 
 collected for Mrs B., it will be sunk in distinct annuities 
 for the daughters. The result, with their several 
 pensions of ten pounds, will place them above all risk 
 of anything like want. They well deserve all that has 
 been done for them by their self-devotion to their 
 mother in less bright days. I have great pleasure in 
 thinking of that happy family on the banks of Doon, 
 and reflecting on the little services I have been able to 
 render them.' 
 
 In June 1855, he had an excellent opportunity of 
 visiting the Faroe Islands and Iceland, and this, for 
 geological reasons, he did not neglect. The Thor, a 
 Danish screw war-steamer, touched at Leith on its way 
 to Iceland, and at a certain charge six gentlemen were 
 accommodated as passengers. It was a pleasant trip. 
 Reikiavik, the capital of Iceland, was reached in safety; 
 and in a day or two began a journey, in a rude fashion, 
 on the backs of ponies, to the t famed Geysers, a distance 
 of seventy miles across a wild country, with no proper 
 places for rest or lodging. Yet, as he describes the 
 excursion, it was, though rough, a novel, hilarious affair 
 after all. At Thingvalla, the only accommodation for 
 the night was to bivouack in the church, and the only 
 means of lingual communication with the clergyman 
 who acted as host, was in a corrupt Latin. Robert 
 made his couch in the pulpit. On the second day, the 
 party got to a farm-house in the vicinity of the Geysers ; 
 
VISIT TO ICELAND. 291 
 
 and next morning, some of these hot-water volcanoes 
 were in ebullition. The chief curiosity is the Great 
 Geyser, a kind of well, nine feet in diameter, and eighty- 
 seven feet deep, from which were seen thrown up violent 
 jets of water to a height of from seventy to a hundred 
 feet. The heat of the water is extraordinary. ' It has 
 been found that the water of the Great Geyser at the 
 bottom of the tube has a temperature higher than that 
 of ordinary boiling water, and this goes on increasing 
 till an eruption takes place, immediately before which it 
 has been found as high as 261 Fahrenheit/ or 49 above 
 ordinary boiling-point a circumstance inferring enor- 
 mous compression under violent heat, until the water 
 bursts out into the atmosphere. 
 
 Returning by the way they had come, the excursion- 
 ists were again glad to take up their quarters in the 
 establishment of the parish minister, who, it appeared, on 
 a cross-examination in Latin by my brother, supported a 
 wife and eight children, performed his parochial duties, 
 and travelled once a month to a preaching station 
 eighteen miles distant all for five-and-twenty pounds a 
 year. * We could not but wonder how so large a family, 
 besides a horse, could be supported on means so small. 
 In wandering about the place, I lighted upon his little 
 stithy, which reminds me to tell that in Iceland a priest 
 is always able to shoe your horse if required.' The little 
 book in which these particulars were given, entitled 
 Tracings in Iceland and the Faroe Islands, was published 
 in 1856. 
 
 A number of years had elapsed since he wrote a 
 History of Scotland for a series of books issued by 
 Richard Bentley. The subject was so familiar that 
 he now applied himself with zest to a work entitled 
 
292 MEMOIR. 
 
 the Domestic Annals of Scotland. It was comprised in 
 three volumes. Two of these were issued in 1859, and 
 a third appeared in 1861. The period over which the 
 annals extended was from the Reformation to the 
 Rebellion of 1745, nearly two hundred of the most 
 interesting years in Scottish history. The work, how- 
 ever, was not a history in the usual sense of the word. 
 It consisted of a chronicle of occurrences of a familiar, 
 sometimes amusing, nature beneath the region of history, 
 but calculated to convey a correct notion of the man- 
 ners, customs, passions, superstitions, and ignorance of 
 the people the pestilences, famines, and other extra- 
 ordinary events which disturbed their tranquillity the 
 traits of false political economy by which their well-being 
 was checked and generally those things which enable 
 us to see how our forefathers thought, felt, and suffered, 
 and how, on the whole, ordinary life looked in their 
 days. The materials for this assemblage of facts were 
 searched for in public records, acts of parliament, 
 criminal trials, private diaries, family papers, histories, 
 biographies, journals of transactions, c. the whole 
 amounting to nearly a hundred different authorities, 
 while the passages selected were so strung together 
 chronologically as to offer a progressive picture of the 
 times. On this work, so laborious, yet coincident with 
 his feelings, he occupied himself at times during five 
 years without in any respect remitting his writings for 
 Chambers' s Journal. 
 
 Between 1853 and 1858, Robert had occasion to be 
 frequently in London, partly from business and literary 
 considerations, and partly to enjoy the converse of 
 scientific friends. On the loth February 1857, in writing 
 to his daughter Anne, he alluded to a club dinner he had 
 
LONDON CLUB DINNER. 293 
 
 been at, and the letter is so characteristic, that we 
 present the following extract : 
 
 ' Yesterday, I went as the guest of Lord Ducie to the 
 Geographical Society Club dinner, in the Thatched House 
 Tavern, St James' Street. Sir Roderick I. Murchison 
 was in the chair, with Count Chreptovitsch, the Russian 
 ambassador, at his right hand ; next to him Lord Ducie, 
 then myself; Sir Henry Rawlinson at my other side. 
 This was very agreeable society. The ambassador is a 
 pleasant-looking man of sixty-five, with white hair rather 
 close clipped. His health was drunk very cordially, and 
 he returned thanks in one brief sentence. Afterwards, 
 Sir Roderick rose up and repeated as a communication 
 from His Excellency, that the Russian government is 
 quite with England in the Persian War. Sir George 
 Pollock was my vis-a-vis, who conducted the army back 
 from Afghanistan in 1843 a quiet old man, the son of 
 a saddler from Berwick, and brother of the Chief Baron, 
 with whom I dined last week. 
 
 1 Having a momentary opportunity of conversing with 
 the Russian ambassador, I told him of a large Russian 
 vessel being thrown on the east coast of Aberdeenshire, 
 in the time of the Regency of Mary of Guise (1542-60), 
 when all the crew were saved, along with some persons 
 of distinction, who were brought to the court at Edin- 
 burgh, and hospitably entertained there; after which 
 they were conducted honourably to Berwick, and there 
 passed into the dominions of the English sovereign, 
 Mary. Seeing that he appeared to be interested in the 
 story, I told him I should have much pleasure in send- 
 ing him the particulars of the affair, remarking it was 
 one of a much more pleasant nature for both countries 
 than some that had taken place since; in which he 
 
294 MEMOIR. 
 
 cordially agreed, and gave me his card that I might 
 address the communication properly.' 
 
 My brother became a member of the Merchant 
 Company of Edinburgh, a guild or corporation of old 
 date, existing mainly for beneficiary purposes, and 
 which, by good management, has attained to wealth 
 and importance ; being deservedly esteemed for its acts 
 of public usefulness. As a member of this body, he in 
 time was elected to fill the office of Master, such being 
 the designation given to the president. While occupy- 
 ing this honorary position, he delivered a lecture at an 
 evening conversazione, i4th February 1859, on the 
 subject of ' Edinburgh Merchants and Merchandise in 
 Old Times,' which gratified a very numerous audience, 
 and was afterwards printed for general circulation. 
 Into this lecture he threw a great variety of amusing 
 facts collected in the course of his studies. The matter 
 more particularly curious in the discourse consisted 
 of statements regarding families of distinction through- 
 out the country, which had sprung from persons who 
 had carried on business, many of them in a humble style, 
 in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. 
 
 The object of these illustrations was to shew how, by 
 a course of sobriety and diligence in his calling, a man 
 may rise to fortune, not only for his own advantage, but 
 that of his descendants; and to remind many who 
 occupy a high social position what they owe to the 
 thrift and plodding industry of their ancestors. The 
 lecture was in my brother's best anecdotic style. He 
 spoke of a Hamilton of the house of Innerwick who 
 was a trafficker in the West Bow, who acquired land, and 
 fell as a gallant gentleman at the battle of Pinkie, 
 leaving a son, who was ancestor of the Earls of 
 
LECTURE ON OLD FAMILIES. 295 
 
 Haddington, Of Edward Hope, a shopkeeper in the 
 Luckenbooths, who lived in Tod's Close in the Castle- 
 hill, whose eldest son was the progenitor of all the 
 Hopes who have stood conspicuous in rank, in wealth, 
 and in public service in Scotland; while from his 
 younger son are descended the famous mercantile firm 
 of the Hopes of Amsterdam, Of Thomas Foulis, a 
 goldsmith in the Parliament Close, who lent money to 
 James VI., and had for requital a grant of the lead 
 mines of Lanarkshire, which he worked with good 
 result, and handed ultimately to his grand-daughter, 
 who married James Hope, the ancestor of the Earls of 
 Hopetoun, Of John Trotter, who acquired by mer- 
 chandise the means of purchasing the estate of Morton 
 Hall, and thus laid the foundation of a family which 
 still exists in great note and opulence. Another instance 
 was that of James Riddell of that Ilk. This gentleman, 
 after pursuing a business career for some time in 
 Poland, where many Scotch youths then found occupa- 
 tion, returned to Edinburgh about the year 1603, set up 
 business there, married a lady of means styled Bessie 
 Allan, and died a wealthy man. His son, who became 
 a merchant in Leith, purchased the estate of Kinglass, 
 which he left to a line of descendants. We cannot but 
 view with interest the good sense of our gentry of two 
 and three hundred years ago, in setting their younger 
 sons to a career of useful and honourable industry, 
 instead of allowing them idly to loiter at home, or go 
 into the little better than idleness of a foreign military 
 service. After citing numerous instances, he mentioned 
 that a notable case was that of John Dalrymple, a cloth- 
 merchant, younger brother of Lord Hailes, and great- 
 grandson of the first Earl of Stair ; and then added : 
 
296 MEMOIR. 
 
 'That so many landed families amongst us have 
 descended from Edinburgh merchants, is no singular 
 fact, for trade efflorescing into nobility is an old phe- 
 nomenon in the south. There we have a Duke of Leeds 
 descended from the apprentice of Sir William Hewit, 
 the goldsmith; the Wentworth Fitzwilliams, from a 
 worthy London merchant, knighted by Henry VIII. 
 From the nautical adventurer Phipps, of the time of 
 Charles II., come the Earls of Mulgrave. Cornwallis is 
 from a London merchant; Coventry from a mercer; 
 Radnor from a silk manufacturer ; Warwick from a 
 wool-stapler; Pomfret from a Calais merchant; Essex, 
 Dartmouth, Craven, Tankerville, Darnley, Cowper, and 
 Romney, have all had a similar origin. More recently 
 ennobled families the Dacres, the Dormers, the 
 Dudley Wards, the Hills, the Caringtons have all in 
 like manner taken their rise from successful trade. It 
 is an origin surely as honourable as dexterous courtier- 
 ship, gifts of church lands, or medieval robbery and 
 plunder.' 
 
 Contrasting old with new times, he concludes by 
 observing that ' our predecessors had not merely to 
 contend with the narrow resources of the country, and 
 with the want of a thousand conveniences as regards 
 transport of goods and conveyance of intelligence, but, 
 worst of all, they had to struggle with their own ignor- 
 ance, as well as with a host of erroneous principles of 
 legislation, of which we are now happily rid.' 
 
 Shortly after this, he edited and wrote an introduc- 
 tory notice to a volume purporting to be the Memoirs 
 of a Banking-house, by Sir William Forbes of Pitsligo, 
 Bart, author of the life of the poet Beattie. The bank- 
 ing-house so signalised was that which was set on foot 
 
SSX WILLIAM FORBES. 297 
 
 in Edinburgh by John Coutts & Co., who occupied as 
 business premises an upper floor in the Parliament Close. 
 The Coutts family were from Montrose, and began as 
 corn-merchants and negotiators of bills of exchange. 
 One of them, John Coutts, was Lord Provost of Edin- 
 burgh in 1742. He had four sons Patrick, John, 
 James, and Thomas. By these the business was con- 
 tinued, and received as apprentice the youthful Sir 
 William Forbes, in 1754. In the whole round of 
 biography, there is nothing finer by way of example to 
 the young than the life of Sir William Forbes. Born in 
 1739, heir to a baronetcy, and left fatherless at four 
 years of age, without patrimony, he was, commercially 
 speaking, a self-made man, though, like many youths in 
 similar circumstances, he owed much to the care of an 
 amiable and intelligent mother, who, dwelling in a small 
 house in one of the dingy lanes of Edinburgh, main- 
 tained on the most slender means the style and manners 
 of a lady. Her son, Sir William, a boy fourteen years 
 of age, instead of being bred to one of the ' learned pro- 
 fessions,' was put apprentice to Messrs Coutts ; from an 
 apprentice, he became a junior clerk ; from a clerk, he 
 rose to be a partner; and finally, when several of the 
 partners died or quitted Edinburgh, the firm was trans- 
 formed into that of Sir William Forbes & Co., of which 
 he was the leading member. The firm, as is well known, 
 is now merged in the Union Bank of Scotland. 
 
 Sir William, as we learn from the memoir, was reared, 
 and acquired strict habits of business, chiefly under the 
 eye of John Coutts; for Thomas, his brother, the 
 youngest son of the Lord Provost, removed to London. 
 There, founding the banking concern of Coutts & Co., 
 he died in 1822, at about ninety years of age; his 
 
2gS MEMOIR. 
 
 youngest daughter Sophia, married to Sir Francis 
 Burdett, being mother of the much-esteemed Baroness 
 Burdett Coutts. The memoir, which contains many 
 curious particulars about banking in the olden time, was 
 written by Sir William Forbes with a view to impress his 
 son and successor with the paramount importance of 
 exercising, with diligence in his profession, the highest 
 principles of integrity, for only by such could he expect 
 to sustain the enviable reputation of the house. The 
 universal mourning on the death of Sir William Forbes, 
 in 1806, shortly after he had completed his Life of 
 Beattie, caused Sir Walter Scott to refer to him in one of 
 the cantos of Marmion, when addressing the amiable 
 banker's son-in-law, and the poet's friend, Mr Skene of 
 Rubislaw : 
 
 * Scarce had the lamented Forbes paid 
 The tribute to his minstrel's shade, 
 The tale of friendship scarce was told, 
 Ere the narrator's heart was cold. 
 Far may we search before we find 
 A heart so manly and so kind.' 
 
 In editing the autobiography of this distinguished 
 banker, my brother enjoyed a pleasure instead of per- 
 forming a task. The same might be said of a series of 
 detached papers, written at spare intervals, or to deliver 
 as lectures. The subjects of these tracts, ultimately 
 issued in 1861 under the title of Edinburgh Papers, 
 were various old domestic architecture, merchants and 
 merchandise in old times, the posture of the scientific 
 world, some notions on geology, and the romantic 
 Scottish ballads. By this last-named paper, the accepted 
 opinions regarding several popular ballads, as given by 
 Percy and Scott, were considerably ruffled. In it he 
 
MRS SIDDONS. 299 
 
 ventured to shew that, so far from being ancient, these 
 ballads had been written, in an affectedly old style, not 
 earlier than the beginning of the eighteenth century 
 the surreptitious manufacture being executed by a 
 woman clever at versification, Lady Wardlaw of Pitreavie. 
 Professor Aytoun, amongst others, was, of course, not 
 well pleased at this unhappy overturn of certain literary 
 traditions, but could not disprove the accuracy of the 
 view that had been adopted. There was at the time 
 considerable discussion on the subject. 
 
 My brother and I had talked of visiting the United 
 States and Canada. We had pretty extensive business 
 relations in these countries ; but what chiefly interested 
 us was the social aspect of affairs beyond the Atlantic. 
 I was able to make this desired trip in 1853, the 
 account of which appeared as Things as They are in 
 America (1854). Robert's excursion was postponed for 
 a few years longer. 
 
 When the old Theatre Royal in Edinburgh was about 
 to be taken down in 1859, in order to make way for the 
 new General Post-office, he, at the request of some 
 amateurs of the drama, wrote a historical sketch of the 
 old building, with its successive managers, and the great 
 theatrical stars who had made their appearance on its 
 stage. The pamphlet was a trifle, but not devoid of 
 some amusing particulars ; for example, the account 
 given of the visit of Mrs Siddons, in May 1784, when 
 she performed twelve nights, extending over a period 
 of three weeks, and during which she played her prin- 
 cipal characters, including Mrs Beverley, Jane Shore, 
 Isabella, Lady Randolph, and Euphrasia in the Grecian 
 Daughter : 
 
300 MEMOIR. 
 
 MRS SIDDONS. 
 
 * The furor created in the town by the performances of 
 this illustrious lady was extraordinary. Prodigious crowds 
 attended hours before the performance for the chance of a 
 place. It came to be necessary to admit them at three, and 
 then people began to attend at twelve to get in at three. 
 The General Assembly of the church, in session at the time, 
 found it necessary to arrange their meetings with some 
 reference to the hours at the theatre, for the younger 
 members had discovered that attendance on Mrs Siddons's 
 performances was calculated to be of some advantage to 
 them, as a means of improving their elocution. People 
 came from distant places, even from Newcastle, to witness 
 what all spoke of with wonder. There were one day appli- 
 cations for 2557 places, while there were only 630 of that 
 kind in the house. Porters and servants had to bivouac for 
 a night in the streets, on mats and palliasses, in order that 
 they might get an early chance of admission to the box- 
 office next day. At the more thrilling parts of the perfor- 
 mance, the audience were agitated to a degree unprecedented 
 in this cool latitude. Many ladies fainted. This was par- 
 ticularly the case on the evening when Isabella, or the Fatal 
 Marriage, was performed. The personator of Isabella has 
 to exhibit the distress of a wife, on finding, after a second 
 marriage, that her first and loved husband, Biron, is still 
 alive. Mrs Siddons herself was left at the close in such an 
 exhausted state, that some minutes elapsed before she could 
 be carried off the stage. A young heiress, Miss Gordon of 
 Gight, in Aberdeenshire, was carried out of her box in 
 hysterics, screaming loudly the words caught from the great 
 actress : " Oh, my Biron ! my Biron ! " A strange tale was 
 therewith connected. A gentleman, whom she had not at 
 this time seen or heard of, the Honourable John Biron, next 
 year met, paid his addresses, and married her. It was to 
 her a fatal marriage in several respects, although it gave to 
 the world the poet Lord Byron. Strange to say, a lady 
 
RESIDENCE IN L ONDON. 30 1 
 
 lived till January 1858, the Dowager Lady G , who was 
 
 in the house that evening, and who never could forget the 
 ominous sounds of "Oh, my Biron!" The writer of this 
 little memoir has heard the story related by another lady 
 who was also in the house that night, and who died in 1855. 
 By her performances in Edinburgh on this occasion, Mrs 
 Siddons cleared nearly 1000, her benefit alone yielding 
 350 ; all this being over and above the profits of a night 
 given to the Charity-Workhouse.' 
 
 Robert, accompanied by his wife, effected his long- 
 desired visit to the United States in 1860, everywhere 
 receiving much attention from men of literary and scien- 
 tific tastes. Unfortunately, his dear old friend and 
 correspondent, Willie Wilson, had died shortly before 
 his arrival in the country. Of his extensive excursion my 
 brother did not give any regular account, but contented 
 himself with writing two or three articles in Chambers 's 
 Journal. 
 
 We now approach the end. On my brother's return 
 from America, there were consultations on the project 
 of a work, likely to be successful, but which could not 
 be executed in Edinburgh. It required the resources of 
 the British Museum. For this purpose it was resolved 
 that he should migrate, with his family, to London, if 
 his stay should be only for a few years. So to London 
 he and his family went, their residence being Verulam 
 House, one of the pleasant villas at St John's Wood. 
 The work which had suggested this wrench in accus- 
 tomed habits was the Book of Days, a miscellany of 
 popular antiquities in connection with the calendar, 
 including anecdotes, biographies, curiosities of literature, 
 and oddities of human life and character. 
 
302 MEMOIR. 
 
 From the time he began to reside in London, March 
 1 86 1, he was much occupied with this undertaking, 
 and became a frequent visitor of the British Museum, 
 as well as of the Athenaeum, of which club he had the 
 good fortune to be elected a member. Although he 
 possessed an excellent private collection of books, it 
 was nothing in comparison to the very comprehensive 
 library of the Athenaeum, which accordingly formed a 
 great attraction, independently of the very choice 
 company to be met with. Verulam House was a resi- 
 dence excelling in amenities any which he and his 
 family had yet occupied. Regarding his life here for 
 the next two years, his daughter Anne, now Mrs Dowie 
 (who most closely resembles him of all his family), has 
 furnished me with the following particulars : 
 
 'My dear father wrote to me shortly after taking 
 possession of Verulam, which he described as com- 
 prehending "a large garden, lawn, hot-houses, and 
 in short the whole paraphernalia of a gentleman's 
 country-house, with a fine conservatory, adjoining the 
 drawing-room, and containing a fountain surrounded 
 with flowers." Besides plenty of space for the beloved 
 books, and spare rooms for guests, there was no end 
 of scope for the romping of grandchildren. On the 
 lawn, adjoining a rustic summer-house, there were some 
 fine trees, one of them a splendid spreading oak, beneath 
 which my mother often took breakfast, at which she 
 usually held a leve'e of cats. Her fondness for these 
 animals was extraordinary, and she always maintained 
 that they were a misunderstood and ill-used people. Her 
 more special favourites were two beautiful white cats, 
 known as Mr and Mrs Archie, and one of their kittens 
 
THE BOOK OF DA VS. 303 
 
 was generally perched on her shoulder, when seated 
 under the trees. 
 
 'During the winter of 1861-2, my father spent a 
 large part of his time at the Athenaeum, perusing the 
 proof sheets not only of the Book of Days, but of the 
 History of the Indian Mutiny, which the firm was pub- 
 lishing, and for this latter work he felt it to be strange 
 and interesting to have the advantage of consulting the 
 general who had held the chief command during that 
 terrible Indian convulsion namely, Lord Clyde, with 
 whom he became acquainted at the club. In 1862, he 
 was somewhat surprised to find himself appointed a 
 judge in one of the sections of the International 
 Exhibition, a circumstance which brought him in con- 
 tact with the commissioners, and led to some pleasant 
 soirees at the South Kensington Museum. About the 
 same period he, in company with his daughter Janet, 
 attended the meetings and lectures of the Royal Insti- 
 tution, and had much pleasant intercourse with such 
 friends as Dr Carpenter, Dr W. B. Hodgson, Mr Watts 
 of the British Museum, Professors Huxley, Tyndall, and 
 H. D. Rogers, also Sir Charles Nicholson, late of Sydney, 
 a person whose society always afforded him the highest 
 pleasure. With Sir Charles, he made a trip to France 
 and Belgium, chiefly with the view of visiting the quarry 
 near Amiens, noted for its deposit of flint axes. 
 
 'In January 1863, he wrote to me, that he had just 
 returned from Scotland, where he had enjoyed a lively 
 fortnight among a circle of old acquaintances. Scarcely 
 was he well settled at Verulam, when he was invited to 
 St Andrews to receive the degree of LL.D. from the 
 university, an honour which came upon him entirely 
 unsolicited. Returning again to London, he endeav- 
 
3 o 4 MEMOIR. 
 
 cured to make up for lost time by excessive labour at 
 the Book of Days, which, wherever he was, kept him 
 pretty much on the rack. Accordingly, work, work, 
 work still went on to a degree which it is most painful 
 to recollect. Some assistance, on which he confidently 
 reckoned, having grievously failed, and the press 
 being urgent, there was no escape from the labour 
 which he had undertaken. For a breathing space, 
 lie took refuge with me at Moffat in June 1863. 
 Here he enjoyed the bracing air and pastoral scenery, 
 yet not greatly advancing in health. We made little 
 excursions together up the valleys in the neighbourhood. 
 One day, we went as far as the cataract known as 
 the Gray Mare's Tail, pausing for an hour or two at 
 Jenny Broadfoot's, at Braehead, in whose tiny parlour, 
 containing a box-bed, he was much affected, when telling 
 me that he had spent a night here forty years ago, 
 when travelling on foot to collect materials for the 
 Picture of Scotland. " Here," said he, " in the midst 
 of these grand old hills, noted in our national annals, 
 and embalmed in immortal verse, I again take my coun- 
 trymen to my heart, and wonder if I shall be able to live 
 any more as an exile in the south." Necessity, however, 
 drew him back to St John's Wood, where, at length, his 
 herculean literary task came to a conclusion.' 
 
 The mental strain which my brother underwent with 
 what his daughter properly calls a 'herculean literary 
 task,' was more than he was able to bear. The work 
 was finished, but the author was finished also. Not that 
 he died on the spot, but his system was shattered, and 
 he could not in future incur any continuous exertion. 
 To aggravate his disorder, he experienced some sad 
 
SE TTLING AT ST ANDRE WS. 305 
 
 domestic bereavements. In September 1863, he lost 
 his wife, and almost immediately thereafter Janet, an 
 amiable daughter of great intellect and beauty. Like 
 most other works he produced, the Book of Days proved 
 a success. But at what a cost ? He was heard to say : 
 * That book was my death-blow,' and such it really was. 
 With all its amenities, Verulam House could not 
 retain my brother in London. He longed to be in 
 the midst of scenes connected with old associations. 
 Returning to Scotland in an enfeebled state of health, 
 he took up his residence in St Andrews, a place to 
 which he had twenty years previously become much 
 attached, on account of its agreeable society, its bracing 
 atmosphere, and its extensive links, noted for the 
 game of golf, a healthful outdoor amusement, not 
 demanding too great an amount of physical exertion. 
 There we may leave him for a little space, in the 
 society of his youngest and unmarried daughter, Alice 
 his windows overlooking the Firth of Tay, and the 
 celebrated Bell-rock Light-house flashing far in the 
 east, like a lustrous gem on the bosom of the German 
 Ocean. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A SKELETON IN THE HOUSE, AND OTHER MATTERS. 
 
 '"THERE is a skeleton in every house ! All have 
 something or other to trouble them, however 
 well off and at ease they may appear to be. For twenty- 
 one years after the commencement of Chambers's 
 Journal, and while all seemed to be going on prosper- 
 ously, my brother and I were plagued with a skeleton, 
 of whom the world had no means of being cognisant. 
 The nature of the skeleton was this. Operating from 
 Edinburgh as a centre, we had necessarily to entrust 
 a large commission business to a bookseller in London, 
 who had us pretty much at his mercy. Things might 
 be going right or wrong with him, for anything we could 
 satisfactorily discover. At first, there was no cause 
 for uneasiness ; but in the progress of events, when a 
 small grew into a great concern, we could not divest 
 ourselves of apprehensions of a catastrophe. 
 
 Such was our skeleton ! Perhaps we were no worse 
 off than our neighbours, but that is always a poor 
 consolation. We might possibly have rid ourselves of 
 the skeleton. That, however, would perhaps only have 
 amounted to a substitution of a new for an old source of 
 distrust. So we were fain to temporise, and to make 
 
RE V. SYDNE Y SMITH. 307 
 
 the best of things as they stood. In a social point of 
 view, we were on excellent terms with the personality of 
 our skeleton, and there was not a little pleasant inter- 
 course among us. I was often for weeks in London ; 
 and by these visits an acquaintanceship was kept up 
 with various esteemed contributors, among whom we 
 had great pleasure in numbering Mrs S. C. Hall, who 
 wrote for us some admirable stories of Irish life, and 
 through whom we procured a juvenile story from the 
 venerable Maria Edgeworth. 
 
 On one of these occasions of visiting the metropolis, 
 a new and unexpected acquaintance was formed. It 
 was in 1844, when residing in Greek Street, Soho. 
 One day about noon, a carriage drives up to the door 
 not a vehicle of the light modern sort, but an old family 
 coach, drawn by a pair of sleek horses. From it 
 descends an aged gentleman, who, from his shovel 
 hat and black gaiters, is seen to be an ecclesiastical 
 dignitary. I overhear, by the voices at the door, that 
 I am asked for. * Who, in all the world, can this be?' 
 A few minutes solve the question. Heavy footsteps 
 are heard deliberately ascending the antique balus- 
 traded stair. My unknown visitor is ushered in his 
 name announced : * The Rev. Sydney Smith.' I hasten 
 to receive so celebrated a personage as is befitting, and 
 express the pleasure I have in the unexpected visit 
 wondering how he had discovered me. 
 
 ' I heard at Rogers's you were in town,' said he, 
 * and was resolved to call. Let us sit down, and have 
 a talk.' 
 
 We drew towards the fire, for the day was cold, and 
 he continued : ' You are surprised possibly at my visit 
 There is nothing at all strange about it. The originator 
 
3 o8 MEMOIR. 
 
 of the Edinburgh Review has come to see the originator 
 of the Edinburgh Journal? 
 
 I felt honoured by the remark, and delighted beyond 
 measure with the good-natured and unceremonious 
 observations which my visitor made on a variety of 
 subjects. We talked of Edinburgh, and I asked him 
 where he had lived. He said it was in Buccleuch 
 Place, not far from Jeffrey, with an outlook behind to 
 the Meadows. 'Ah,' he remarked, 'what charming 
 walks I had about Arthur's Seat, with the clear mountain 
 air blowing in one's face ! I often think of that glorious 
 scene.' I alluded to the cluster of young men Jeffrey, 
 Horner, Brougham, himself, and one or two others, who 
 had been concerned in commencing the Review in 1802. 
 Of these, he spoke with most affection of Horner, and 
 specified one who, from his vanity and eccentricities, 
 could not be trusted. Great secrecy, he said, had to be 
 employed in conducting the undertaking, and this agrees 
 with what Lord Jeffrey told my brother. My reverend 
 and facetious visitor made some little inquiry about my 
 own early efforts, and he laughed when I reminded him 
 of a saying of his own about studying on a little oat- 
 meal for that would have applied literally to my 
 brother and to myself. 'Ah, labora, labora' he said 
 sententiously, 'how that word expresses the character 
 of your country!' 
 
 'Well, we do sometimes work pretty hard,' I observed; 
 ' but for all that, we can relish a pleasantry as much as 
 our neighbours. You must have seen that the Scotch 
 have a considerable fund of humour.' 
 
 ' Oh, by all means,' replied my visitor, ' you are an 
 immensely funny people, but you need a little operating 
 upon to let the fun out. I know no instrument so 
 
MISS MITFORD. 309 
 
 effectual for the purpose as the cork-screw ! ' Mutual 
 laughter, of course. 
 
 There was some more chat of this kind, and we parted. 
 This interview led to a few days of agreeable intercourse 
 with Sydney Smith. By invitation, I went next morning 
 to his house in Green Street, Grosvenor Square, to 
 breakfast ; and the day following, went with him to 
 breakfast with a select party, at the mansion of Samuel 
 Rogers, St James's, when there ensued a stream of 
 witticisms and repartees for pretty nearly a couple of 
 hours. This was assuredly the most pleasant conversa- 
 tional treat I ever experienced. On quitting London, 
 I bade good-bye to Sydney Smith with extreme regret. 
 We never met again. He died in February the following 
 year. 
 
 Years pass on ; in each, excursions being made with 
 some literary object in view. While residing in London 
 in 1847, I was honoured with the acquaintance of Miss 
 Mitford, whom I visited by invitation at her neat little 
 cottage, Three-mile Cross, near Reading ; the pleasantest 
 thing about the visit being a walk with the aged lady 
 among the green lanes in the neighbourhood she 
 trotting along with a tall cane, and speaking of rural 
 scenes and circumstances. I see by the lately published 
 life of Boner, that in a letter to him, under date 
 December 16, 1847, she refers to this visit, stating that 
 she was at the time engaged along with Mr Lovejoy, a 
 bookseller in Reading, in a plan for establishing lending 
 libraries for the poor, in which, she says, I assisted her 
 with information and advice. What I really advised 
 was that, following out a scheme adopted in East 
 Lothian, parishes should join in establishing itinerating 
 libraries, each composed of different books, so that, 
 
310 MEMOIR. 
 
 being shifted from place to place, a degree of novelty 
 might be maintained for mutual advantage. 
 
 In 1848, I visited Germany, mainly to look into 
 educational and penal arrangements ; and at Berlin, 
 through the polite attention of Professor Zumpt, had the 
 satisfaction of becoming acquainted with the Prussian 
 compulsory system of education, which, in its later 
 developments, has had so startling an effect on the 
 affairs of continental Europe. 
 
 I had visited France several times : To see the extinct 
 volcanoes of Auvergne, and the Roman remains of 
 Provence to see the prison discipline at Roquette 
 and Fontrevault, and the juvenile reformatory at Mettray 
 to see Voisin's method of rousing the dormant intellect 
 of imbecile children at the Bicetre, and so on. I 
 again visited the country in 1849 ; on this occasion 
 remaining longer than usual in Paris, and seeing 
 more of the social life of the people. For this, let 
 me acknowledge myself indebted to the Dowager 
 Countess of Elgin (a Scottish lady of the Oswalds of 
 Dunnikier), who found me out in the Boulevard des 
 Italiens, and introduced me along with my wife to 
 an agreeable literary circle, including M. Lamartine, 
 M. Mohl, and Leon Faucher. Lamartine tall, thin, 
 and unimpassioned the centre of a group of admirers, 
 listened with cold complacency when I told him that a 
 translation of his Voyage en Orient had been eminently 
 popular in England. Faucher was greatly more con- 
 versible. He was interested in hearing about our system 
 of poor-laws, municipal government, and other topics 
 connected with social economy, on which I did my best 
 to give him some information. 
 
 On one of these evenings, I was introduced to a 
 
SOCIETY IN PARIS. 311 
 
 young Frenchman, son of a noted revolutionist during 
 the Reign of Terror, who had afterwards saved his life 
 by hiding himself, and changing his name, until he 
 could again appear publicly. He had recently died, and 
 his whole effects were about to be sold, in order that 
 the produce might be equally divided among his family. 
 The articles were said to be curious ; and such I found 
 to be the case, on going by invitation to see them in 
 an old dignified mansion, near the Temple the most 
 curious thing of all being the identical proclamation 
 which Robespierre had begun to write at the Hotel de 
 Ville, when his assailants burst in upon him, and he 
 was shot through the jaw. He had got only the length 
 of scrawling the words, ' Courage, mes compatriotes] when, 
 being struck, the pen fell from his hand, and big drops 
 of blood were scattered over the paper. Bearing these 
 marks of discoloration, how strange a memorial of the 
 horrors of 1794 ! 
 
 I was much delighted with the simplicity and inexpen- 
 siveness of the evening parties at the house of the 
 countess, which was situated in the neighbourhood 
 of the Rue de Bac, and had been a palace of some 
 pretension in the days of the old monarchy. People 
 came to see and converse with each other not cere- 
 moniously to eat and drink, and go away in a state of 
 discomfort. The few weeks I spent in Paris on this 
 occasion were among the most delightful in. my whole 
 existence. 
 
 While residing at Glenormiston, in Peeblesshire, in 
 the summer of 1850, I was favoured with a visit from 
 the aged Sir Adam Ferguson, the early friend of Sir 
 Walter Scott, and who is often referred to by Lockhart 
 Sir Adam was a son of Professor Ferguson, author of 
 
312 MEMOIR. 
 
 the History of the Roman Republic, who had lived at 
 Hallyards, in the parish of Manor, Peeblesshire, at the 
 end of the last and beginning of the present century. 
 From his acquaintance with the Fergusons, Scott, when 
 travelling to Carlisle in 1797, paid a passing visit to 
 Hallyards, when he and young Adam had an interview 
 with David Ritchie, whose misshapen figure and misan- 
 thropic character suggested the fictitious Black Dwarf. 
 
 After these days of youth and hope, Adam Ferguson 
 had an active and hazardous career. He entered the 
 army, in which he rose to the rank of captain. In the 
 war in the Peninsula, he suffered a severe wound in the 
 knee, by a musket-bullet, and was taken prisoner. To 
 relieve the tedium of his captivity, he petitioned Fouche 
 to be permitted to visit Paris, and this unusual favour 
 was granted in consideration of his father's fame, but 
 still more for that of his uncle, the illustrious Black, 
 whose discoveries in chemistry were highly appreciated 
 in France. While in Paris, Captain Ferguson had the 
 satisfaction of seeing Bonaparte. At the peace, he 
 returned to Scotland, and renewed his intimacy with 
 Scott. This friendship was warm and confidential, for 
 in his old acquaintance, the * Great Unknown ' reposed 
 the secret of his authorship of Waverky ; and, indeed, 
 Captain Ferguson spent much of his time at Abbotsford, 
 and sat for hours with Sir Walter, while he was penning 
 his deathless fictions. A few years previous to his 
 visit to me in the country, he had received the honour 
 of knighthood. 
 
 Sir Adam was an intimate acquaintance of my brother, 
 at whose house I frequently met him. Notwithstanding 
 his extreme age, he possessed great buoyancy of spirit, 
 told amusing anecdotes, and was an enthusiastic admirer 
 
SIX ADAM FERGUSON. 313 
 
 of the Scottish melodies. On one occasion, when 
 sitting in a state of enhancement listening to some music 
 played by Mrs R. Chambers, one of her daughters (Mary) 
 made a clever sketch of him in crayons. He had long 
 entertained a wish to visit Peeblesshire for the last time, 
 and now, in his eighty-first year, the wish was realised. 
 Accompanied by my brother and a gentleman of the 
 neighbourhood, I drove him to Hallyards to see his 
 former haunts. Every step in the excursion awakened 
 old and slumbering recollections. He declared, however, 
 that he with difficulty recognised some of the ancient 
 landmarks. The sight of the old avenue at Hallyards 
 affected him considerably. He said he was afraid his 
 feelings would not allow him to enter the house ; but the 
 spirit of the old soldier rallied, and with all his wonted 
 humour, he related various incidents illustrative of past 
 events. He essayed to mount to a room which he had 
 occupied when a youth, but the narrowness of the stair- 
 case, and the infirmity of the unfortunate knee, pre- 
 sented insuperable obstacles to the ascent. On leaving 
 the grounds, we drove to the Black Dwarf's cottage, the 
 scene of the interview with Scott. A shock awaited the 
 veteran. By an unfortunate exercise of bad taste, the 
 lowly thatched structure had been transformed into a 
 slated house a circumstance for which we all heartily 
 expressed our regret. Next day I parted with Sir Adam. 
 Afterwards, I saw him several times in Edinburgh. He 
 died at the close of 1854. 
 
 How my brother and I, as fancy directed, should have 
 had leisure to spend months in rambling up and down 
 the world, is worth a little explanation. In one of 
 Robert's essays, he moralises on the advantage of 
 blending with professional pursuits that amount of 
 
314 MEMOIR. 
 
 leisure which will enable us to cultivate the higher class 
 of feelings; for, by neglect on this score, life in the 
 long-run will only be looked back upon as a disappoint- 
 ing dream. On principles of this kind, we endeavoured 
 to act, but could have obtained no success in the 
 attempt, by following the too common practice of hurry- 
 ing into one project after another, irrespective of conse- 
 quences. At the outset, we laid down three rules, 
 which were inflexibly maintained : Never to take credit, 
 but pay for all the great elements of trade in ready 
 money; never to give a bill, and never discount one; 
 and never to undertake any enterprise for which means 
 were not prepared. Obviously, by no other plan of 
 operations could we have been freed from anxiety, and 
 at liberty to make use of the leisure at our disposal. 
 
 No anxiety ? yes, there was some. We had still the 
 skeleton, which had so grown and grown in dimensions 
 as to be at length truly formidable. About 1852, matters 
 became critical. It was as clear as could be, that we 
 were to incur a heavy loss. In nothing in his whole 
 life did my brother manifest more vigour of character 
 than in determining to get rid, at all hazards, of this 
 source of disquietude. He thought of Scott and the 
 Ballantynes, and how, by an extreme and misplaced 
 confidence, arising from kindness of heart, a man may 
 be irretrievably ruined. Without further periphrasis: 
 taking all risks, we withdrew our agency in 1853, and 
 established a branch business in London under charge 
 of our youngest brother, David the Benjamin of the 
 family on whose fidelity we could rely. 
 
 Now comes a startling and melancholy fact, from 
 which it would not be difficult to draw a moral. The 
 concern that had for twenty-one years possessed our 
 
A COMMERCIAL STUDY. 315 
 
 agency, had reaped a profit from it of not much short of 
 forty thousand pounds a sum equal to about eight times 
 what Gibbon received for his Decline and Fall of the 
 Roman Empire, and eighty times what poor Robert 
 Burns ever received for all his world-famed writings ! 
 All was gone, and a vast deal more vanished into 
 empty space. A fortune such as few are born to had 
 been absolutely thrown away. 
 
 The whole of this affair, with some collateral circum- 
 stances, reviewed over a course of years, furnished an 
 interesting and not uninstructive commercial study. In 
 London, as any one may observe, there are two pre- 
 vailing methods of ruination : Extravagance in living, 
 and trading beyond means substituting sanguine 
 expectations, along with borrowed money, for capital. 
 Such, no doubt, are errors everywhere, but in the 
 metropolis they revel without restraint, almost without 
 rebuke. And from the glimpses obtained, I regret to 
 say, they are not unknown in certain sections of the 
 publishing profession. In whatever department of trade, 
 so frightful is the hurry, that means are not suffered to 
 accumulate in order to allow of ready-money payments. 
 The whole transactions subside into a system of bills 
 bills to wholesale stationers, bills to printers, bills to 
 artists, bills to writers, bills to everybody. In the same 
 wild way, bills that are received are hurried off for dis- 
 count. There is great seeming prosperity, but so is 
 there too frequently a great bill-book dismal record of 
 difficulties and heart-aches. The chief difficulty is how 
 to effect discounts. Hours are perhaps spent daily in 
 the effort. Commercially, there is a struggle between 
 life and death every four-and-twenty hours. Who would 
 covet existence on such terms ? 
 
3 i6 MEMOIR. 
 
 The banks, somehow, fail to monopolise the discount 
 trade. They are rivalled by private capitalists, who, in 
 ordinary slang, are known as ' parties.' There is always 
 a ' party ' some mysterious being who lives at Bath, or 
 Boulogne, or somewhere to whom, through a ' party ' 
 more immediately visible, succour is looked for in 
 emergencies. The 'party' dealt with is sometimes a 
 mighty pleasant and presentable person jolly, good- 
 natured countenance ; punctilious in dress ; abounding 
 in anecdotes about the drama and the 'Derby;' well 
 read; and avowing a high opinion of Campbell as a 
 poet, can give with proper effect quotations from the 
 Pleasures of Hope. Meeting him at a ceremonious 
 family dinner, you would never, from his appearance and 
 high-souled chivalric ideas, take him for a 'party,' 
 but half the guests know that he possesses that imposing 
 character in relation to the unfortunate host, whom 
 he could any day crumple up at pleasure, and only bides 
 his time to do so. When Junius made the famous 
 remark, that ' party is the madness of many for the gain 
 of a few,' he spoke the truth in more ways than one. 
 
 Usually, in one way or other, the money-lending 
 ' party ' becomes the final beneficiary. Should the 
 advances be made to some unhappy publishing concern, 
 copyrights are assigned in security, and seldom do they 
 return to their original owner. Valuable literary pro- 
 perty, the fruit of ingenious conception and enterprise, 
 is thus constantly undergoing a process of transfer and 
 confiscation. We may feel shocked with the tyranny of 
 capital, but the blame is due to the extravagant credit 
 system, along with an insane overhaste to be rich ; 
 along, also for we must not forget that with an 
 insane extravagance in living, which yields comfort to 
 
DBA TH OF JAMES KING. 3 1 7 
 
 neither body nor mind ; this, however, is a circumstance 
 so very commonplace as to engage little or no attention. 
 
 It will be remembered how James King, our early 
 friend and fellow-labourer in scientific experiments, had 
 emigrated to Australia, in order to follow out an indus- 
 trial career. From one thing to another, he became 
 proprietor of vineyards at Irawang, New South Wales, 
 and there devoted himself to the perfection of the 
 wine-manufacture in the colony. In this pursuit, he 
 was, by his chemical knowledge, perseverance, and 
 enterprise, eminently successful ; but what avails pro- 
 fessional eminence with loss of health? Returning to 
 England, he travelled over the continent, and estab- 
 lished a friendship with Baron Liebig, who furnished 
 suggestions for improving the quality of his wines. 
 Hints of this kind he did not live to profit by. I found 
 him in London, a wreck sad contrast to what he had 
 been when departing, as a high-spirited youth, to push 
 his fortune abroad. A renewal of intercourse was 
 scarcely practicable, for he heard and spoke only with 
 difficulty. He died in London in 1857, leaving a 
 widow and son to conduct his affairs in the colony. 
 
 Amidst literary and other avocations, my brother and I 
 never forgot Peebles. We visited the place notably so in 
 1 84 1 , to be complimented with the ' Freedom of the Burgh ;' 
 and tried to keep up an acquaintance with old friends, 
 ever diminishing in number till scarcely one of them was 
 left. After residing several summers in the neighbourhood, 
 being forcibly reminded of the benefits which my brother 
 and I had derived from Elder's library long since extinct 
 I gifted to the town a suite of buildings consisting 
 of a library of ten thousand volumes, reading-room, 
 museum, gallery of art, and lecture-hall, with the view 
 
3 i8 MEMOIR. 
 
 of promoting the mental improvement of the humbler 
 classes; but whether the institution so organised will 
 have any such effect, seems, after an experience of twelve 
 years, exceedingly doubtful. So slight has been the 
 success, that others may well pause before venturing on 
 a similar experiment. 
 
 The only other incident concerning myself worthy 
 of notice was one in strange contrast to some events 
 recorded in the early part of these reminiscences, and 
 which occurred very unexpectedly, without any wish or 
 effort on my own part. This was my election as Lord 
 Provost of Edinburgh in 1865. The office was held by 
 me for four years. Regarding this period of public 
 service, the circumstance on which I have most reason 
 to reflect with satisfaction, is that of having projected 
 and obtained an act of parliament for the sanitary 
 Improvement of the City. 
 
 While giving some attention to Chambers 's Journal, 
 now in its forty-first year, it may be permitted me to 
 mention that latterly I was able to add a few books to 
 the list already mentioned The Youttis Companion and 
 Counsellor, 1860; Something of Italy, 1862; History of 
 Peeblesshire, 1864; Wintering in Mentone, 1870; France: 
 its History and Revolutions, 1871 ; and Chamber s's Social 
 Science Tracts, designed to disseminate useful informa- 
 tion among the working-classes on subjects connected 
 with Social, Political, and Sanitary Economy. 
 
 It is not for me to say a single word regarding the 
 influence which Chambers' s Journal and other publica- 
 tions, edited by my brother and myself, may have 
 exerted in the cause of popular enlightenment during 
 the past forty years. Of that, the public must be the 
 judge. Much more pleasing is it to think that the mass 
 
VALUE OF THE CHEAP PRESS. 319 
 
 of cheap and respectably conducted periodical literature, 
 which sprung intermediately into existence under a 
 variety of conditions and auspices, has proved one of 
 the many engines of social improvement in the 
 nineteenth century. Referring to the example of 
 patience which was set by the operatives of Lanca- 
 shire under the agonising calamity of famine which 
 unhappily visited them, a minister of the crown did 
 not hesitate to declare 'that to the information con- 
 tained in the excellent cheap papers of this country 
 he attributed much of the calm forbearance with 
 which the distressed had borne their privations.'* 
 This unexpected acknowledgment receives significance 
 from the fact which history will scarcely fail to notice 
 that the state, under successive ministries, so far 
 from facilitating the diffusion of a cheap and whole- 
 some literature, unconsciously did all in its power for its 
 repression, by means of exorbitant excise duties on 
 paper, the removal of which was effected only after a 
 long and costly process of popular agitation. In plain 
 terms, the cheap press, in its early and struggling 
 stages, owes nothing to the state, and, it may be added, 
 little to the learned and affluent It has grown up by 
 the force of circumstances, not by any special favour. 
 Looked superciliously on throughout, it had its origin 
 in the People, and from the People alone has it received 
 substantial support and encouragement. 
 
 * Right Hon. Mr Milner Gibson's speech at Ashton-under-Lyne, 
 January 21, 1863. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ROBERT'S CLOSING YEARS, AND LITERARY REMAINS. 
 
 /CHANGE of air and scene is said to work wonders 
 ^ on the overtasked brain. It did so to a certain 
 extent on Robert. The fresh air and tranquillity of St 
 Andrews, with some moderate exercise at golf, had a 
 beneficial effect on his health. He wished for peace, 
 and here it was, enlivened with converse in the society 
 of old friends. He had built for himself a house, with a 
 spacious saloon-library, entering from which was a small 
 apartment fitted up as a study. Environed by his 
 books a very choice collection he was now enjoying 
 a luxurious and 'learned leisure.' All task-work was 
 at an end. Sometimes he came for a few days to 
 Edinburgh ; and, extending his journey, he occasionally 
 visited Mrs Priestley in London, or some other of his 
 married daughters. At the new-year, as long as he 
 was able, he made an excursion across the Tay to 
 Fingask Castle, in the Carse of Cowrie, to pass a day 
 or two according to old fashions with his friends, the 
 Thrieplands. 
 
 No house, to look at, could be more pleasant than 
 that which he had constructed according to his fancy at 
 St Andrews. In it he constantly received company, 
 
LIFE AT ST ANDRE WS. 32 1 
 
 and was always the same kindly and entertaining host. 
 But apart from these receptions, his establishment was 
 cheerless, contrasted with former days, when his home 
 was enlivened by a troop of merry-hearted girls. Pos- 
 sibly it was from a sense of comparative solitude, that 
 he formed a second matrimonial alliance. He married 
 (January 1867) the widow of Robert Frith, a lady of 
 musical accomplishments, and of that liveliness of 
 disposition which was calculated to soothe his declining 
 years. 
 
 The university of St Andrews having conferred on 
 him the honorary degree of LL.D., he was subsequently 
 known as the ' Doctor.' After his second marriage, the 
 doctor's dinner and evening parties had something in 
 them of the smack of old times, though all could see 
 he was gradually declining in health; he never failed, 
 however, in his accustomed cheerfulness, his love of 
 music, and his anecdotic, but slowly uttered remarks. 
 
 The pen was now taken up only as an amusement ; 
 but such was the pleasure he derived from writing, that 
 he felt as if the abandonment of literary exercise would 
 kill him outright. Little by little, he finished a book 
 that he had long been employed upon. It was the Life 
 of Smollett, interspersed with characteristic specimens 
 of his writings. This was a slight work, in one volume, 
 but which had the recommendation of adding some- 
 thing to the personal history of Smollett and his family, 
 and presenting a curious fragmentary memoir, written 
 by the novelist's grandfather, Sir James Smollett, a stern 
 old Whig Presbyterian, knighted by William III. This 
 was the last of my brother's printed productions, and 
 with it his literary career closes. 
 
 No one can live at St Andrews without taking keenly 
 
3 23 MEMOIR. 
 
 to golf. It is the staple out-door recreation of the place. 
 The links over which it is played are peculiarly favourable 
 for the game, because the ground is beset with that 
 amount of difficulties which gives a piquancy to the 
 sport. There are nine holes in the links, as so many 
 goals to be successively reached by the golfer in making 
 his round. These holes formed a theme for a series of 
 half-comic half-moralising sonnets, which were intended 
 to be nine in number. My brother, however, completed 
 only the following three : 
 
 THE NINE HOLES OF ST ANDREWS. 
 IN A SERIES OF SONNETS. 
 
 I. The Bridge Hole. 
 
 ' Sacred to hope and promise is the spot 
 
 To Philp's and to the Union Parlour near, 
 
 To every golfer, every caddie dear 
 Where we strike off oh, ne'er to be forgot, 
 Although in lands most distant we sojourn. 
 
 But not without its perils is the place ; 
 
 Mark the opposing caddie's sly grimace, 
 Whispering : " He 's on the road ! " " He 's in the burn 1 " 
 
 ' So is it often in the grander game 
 
 Of life, when, eager, hoping for the palm, 
 
 Breathing of honour, joy, and love, and fame, 
 Conscious of nothing like a doubt or qualm, 
 
 We start, and cry : " Salute us, muse of fire ! " 
 
 And the first footstep lands us in the mire. 
 
 2. The Cartgate Hole. 
 
 1 Fearful to Tyro is thy primal stroke, 
 
 O Cartgate, for behold the bunker opes 
 Right to the teeing place its yawning chops, 
 
 Hope to engulf ere it is well awoke. 
 
SONNETS ON THE NINE HOLES. 323 
 
 That passed, a Scylla in the form of rushes 
 Nods to Charybdis which in ruts appears : 
 He will be safe who in the middle steers ; 
 
 One step aside, the ball destruction brushes. 
 
 ' Golf symbols thus again our painful life, 
 
 Dangers in front, and pitfalls on each hand : 
 But see, one glorious cleek-stroke from the sand 
 Sends Tyro home, and saves all further strife ! 
 He 's in at six old Sandy views the lad, 
 . With new respect, remarking : " That 's no bad ! " 
 
 3. The Third Hole. 
 
 * No rest in golf still perils in the path : 
 
 Here, playing a good ball, perhaps it goes 
 
 Gently into the Principalian Nose, 
 Or else TanSs Coo, which equally is death. 
 Perhaps the wind will catch it in mid air, 
 
 And take it to the Whins " Look out, look out ! 
 
 Tom Morris, be, oh be a faithful scout !" 
 But Tom, though links-eyed, finds 't not anywhere. 
 
 Such thy mishaps, O Merit : feeble balls 
 
 Meanwhile roll on, and lie upon the green ; 
 'Tis well, my friends, if you, when this befalls, 
 
 Can spare yourselves the infamy of spleen. 
 It only shews the ancient proverb's force, 
 That you may further go and fare the worse.' 
 
 Those who were unacquainted with his private habits 
 of thought may be surprised to know that, chiefly about 
 this time, he wrote a number of prayers, and graces to 
 be said at meals, all breathing the purest religious spirit. 
 He began the Life and Preachings of Jesus Christ, from 
 the Evangelists. It was a work apparently designed for 
 the edification of youth, and was left unfinished. He 
 likewise began a catechism for the young, which he did 
 not live to complete. The reminiscences of his early 
 
324 MEMOIR. 
 
 life, from which some extracts have been given, were 
 also among his latest compositions. The mass of papers 
 which he accumulated, and left as literary remains, is 
 indescribable in variety. A considerable number of 
 these fragments refer to Scottish Songs and Ballads, for 
 which he entertained a great affection; and this reminds 
 me, that with some trouble he collected, from the singing 
 of old persons in Liddesdale and elsewhere, the airs of 
 twelve of the Border Ballads, and had them printed for 
 private circulation, in 1844. 
 
 One of the more bulky papers which he left is a 
 species of inquiry into the so-called manifestations 
 of spiritualism. Without pronouncing an opinion dog- 
 matically, he considered the subject worthy of patient 
 investigation. ' The phenomena of spiritualism,' he 
 says, * may be the confused elements of a new chapter 
 of human nature, which will only require some careful 
 investigation to form a respectable addition to our stock 
 of knowledge. Such, I must confess, is the light in 
 which it has presented itself to me, or rather the aspect 
 which it promises to assume.' Acknowledging so much, 
 perhaps he thought of a saying he had heard used by 
 Sir Walter Scott, that 'if there be a vulgar credulity, 
 there is also a vulgar incredulity.' In his anxiety for 
 fair-play, he perhaps leant to the side of credulity. 
 
 Among the papers amassed by my brother, some old 
 and some new, we have the evidence of a mind that 
 for half a century had never been free from some 
 kind of literary assiduity. His casual thoughts, things 
 he heard spoken of, anecdotes, stories, fragments of 
 family history all sooner or later assumed shape in 
 sentences and paragraphs. He never forgot anything. 
 His memory, from a faculty of concentrativeness, was 
 
JACOBITE ANECDOTE. 325 
 
 altogether remarkable. He could tell you any date in 
 history; he remembered all the people of any note he 
 had conversed with, and how they looked, and what 
 they said, if it was at all worth remembering. Every 
 place he had visited was fresh in his recollection. 
 
 With a memory so stored, he was always writing 
 down odds and ends, as if assembling materials for 
 books, which years would have been required to work 
 into shape. To give an idea of these memoranda, I 
 select the following, some of them being from a small 
 note-book with dates : 
 
 ANECDOTE OF HUGH CHISHOLM. 
 
 'Shortly after writing the History of the Rebellion, 
 I heard an anecdote of two Jacobites one of them, 
 Colquhoun Grant, who had been at the battle of Preston- 
 pans, and there having mounted the horse of an English 
 officer, whom he had brought down with his broadsword, 
 chased for miles a body of Cope's recreant dragoons; 
 the other, Hugh Chisholm, a Highlander, who had been 
 also out in the '45, and lived in Edinburgh for a 
 considerable period between 1780 and 1790. Sir 
 Walter Scott saw him at that time, and says something 
 regarding him in the Tales of a Grandfather. The 
 anecdote is this : 
 
 " Hugh Chisholm, who had been associated with the 
 Prince in his wanderings, was supported latterly by a 
 pension, which was got up for him by some gentlemen. 
 Lord Monboddo was much attached to this interesting 
 old man, and once proposed to introduce him to his 
 table at dinner, along with some friends of more exalted 
 rank. On his mentioning the scheme to Mr Colquhoun 
 Grant, one of the proposed party, that gentleman started 
 
326 MEMOIR. 
 
 a number of objections, on the score that poor Chisholm 
 would be embarrassed and uncomfortable in a scene so 
 unusual to him, while some others would feel offended 
 at having the company of a man of mean rank forced 
 upon them. Monboddo heard all Mr Grant's objections, 
 and then assuming a lofty tone, exclaimed : ' Let me 
 remind you, Mr Grant, Hugh Chisholm has been in 
 better company than either yours or mine ! ' The 
 conscience-struck Jacobite had not another word to say. 
 " Chisholm was accordingly brought to Monboddo's 
 table, where he behaved with all the native politeness 
 of a Highlander, and gave satisfaction to all present. 
 He was very much struck with the appearance of Lord 
 Monboddo's daughter, Miss Burnet Burns's Miss 
 Burnet* who presided over the feast. He seemed, 
 indeed, completely rapt in admiration of this singularly 
 beautiful woman, insomuch that he seldom took his eyes 
 off her the whole night. One of the company had the 
 curiosity to ask what he thought of her, when he burst 
 out with an exclamation in Gaelic, indicative of an un- 
 common degree of admiration : ' She is the most beauti- 
 ful living creature I ever saw in all my life !'"' 
 
 STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 
 
 (Feb. 9, 1845.) ' Miss Edmondstone, a lady of ninety, 
 relates a curious story of a foundling. About eighty 
 years ago, Mr Gordon of Ardoch, in Aberdeenshire a 
 tall castle situated upon a rock overlooking the sea 
 was one stormy night alarmed by the firing of a gun, 
 apparently from a distressed vessel. Collecting his 
 
 * Address to Edinburgh, and Elegy on the late Miss Burnet of 
 Monboddo. She died of consumption, i;th June 1790. 
 
STORY OF A FOUNDLING. 327 
 
 dependents, and furnishing himself with lights and 
 ropes, he hurried down to the beach, amidst the peltings 
 of one of the severest storms he had any recollection of. 
 On arriving there, he and his people could discern no 
 ship; they saw no light; they heard no cry. But, 
 searching about, they found an infant lying in a kind of 
 floating crib or cradle, as if it had been brought ashore 
 from a perished vessel by the force of the winds and 
 the waves. The young stranger was removed to the 
 castle, and taken care of; and in the morning there 
 were indubitable signs of a shipwreck on the beach, 
 but no other person seemed to have got ashore. 
 
 ' Mr Gordon, unable to trace the history of the infant 
 (it was a female), brought her up with his own daughters, 
 and became as much attached to her as to any of his 
 children. The foundling received, in all respects, the 
 same treatment and the same education as the young 
 ladies with whom she was associated, and in time she 
 grew to woman's estate. About that time, a similar 
 storm occurred. Mr Gordon hurried as usual to the 
 shore ; but this time was so happy as to receive a ship- 
 wrecked party, among whom was a gentleman passenger. 
 After a comfortable night spent in the castle, this 
 stranger was next morning surprised by the entrance of 
 the young ladies, upon one of whom he fixed a gaze of 
 the greatest interest 
 
 "Is this your daughter too?" said he to his kind 
 host. " No," said Mr Gordon ; " but she is as dear to 
 me as if she were." And then he related the story of 
 the former storm, and of the discovery of the infant 
 upon the beach. At the conclusion, the stranger said 
 with much emotion that he had all reason to believe that 
 the young lady was his own niece. He then stated the 
 
328 MEMOIR. 
 
 circumstances of a sister's return from India, corres- 
 ponding to the time of the shipwreck; and explained 
 how it might happen that Mr Gordon's inquiries for the 
 parents of the child had failed. " She is now," he said, 
 " an orphan ; but her father has left her the bulk of his 
 fortune, to be bestowed upon her, if she should ever be 
 found." 
 
 'All these things being fully substantiated by the 
 stranger, it became necessary that the young lady should 
 leave Ardoch, to put herself under the care of a new 
 protector ; but this was a bitter trial, and she could at 
 last be reconciled to quit Ardoch, only on the condition 
 that one of her friends, the daughters of Mr Gordon, 
 should accompany her. This was consented to, and the 
 whole party soon after left Scotland to proceed to 
 Gottenburg, in Sweden, where her uncle carried on a 
 large mercantile concern. 
 
 ' There is no further romance in the tale as far as the 
 young lady was concerned ; for fact does not always go 
 as fiction would. But a curious circumstance resulted, 
 nevertheless, from the shipwreck. Miss Gordon was 
 wooed and won at Gottenburg by a young Scottish 
 merchant named Erskine, a son of Erskine of Cambo in 
 Fife a youth of narrow fortunes, and seventeen persons 
 between him and the title and estates of the Earl of 
 Kelly. The seventeen died, and this young man 
 became an earl. More than this, a sister of Miss 
 Gordon was, through the same connection of circum- 
 stances, married to a younger brother of the former, 
 who succeeded to this title. Thus, through the accident 
 of the shipwreck, two daughters of an Aberdeenshire 
 laird became Countesses of Kelly. Unfortunately, 
 neither had any children ; so that the title has reverted 
 
VISIT TO MISS PORTER. 329 
 
 to the Earl of Mar, the representative of the family of 
 which that of Kelly was a branch.' [Since the preceding 
 was written, the earldoms of Mar and Kelly have been 
 disjoined, in consequence of the Earl of Mar and Kelly 
 having died without issue, 1866, when the earldom of 
 Mar passed to heirs-general, and the earldom of Kelly 
 to heirs-male.] 
 
 VISIT TO MISS PORTER. 
 
 (July 4.) ' Accompanied Mrs Hall to a house in 
 Kensington Square, to be introduced to Miss Porter. 
 Tall, thin old lady, reclining on a sofa. Weakly health. 
 Above seventy. Kindly Scottish manners. We talked 
 of her young days spent in Surgeon's Square, Edinburgh. 
 Her mother occupied part of the long house on the 
 south side of the square the west half; Lady Hender- 
 son the other. Knew the Kerrs of Chatto as neighbours. 
 Miss Porter, when a little girl, saw one day a thin elderly 
 gentleman, in a light-coloured coat with a plaid, in the 
 square. Went up to him, and said he was like her 
 grandpapa, and for that reason asked him to come in. 
 He followed her into the house, where she introduced 
 him to her mother, as being so like grandpapa. He 
 fell into conversation about the army, led to it by seeing 
 the sword of Miss Porter's father over the fire-place. 
 He said he had also been a soldier ; having fallen in 
 love with his mother's waiting-maid, he had taken to 
 that life in consequence of a quarrel with his friends. 
 He had been at the battle of Culloden, and mention of 
 this seemed greatly to affect him. By-and-by, he went 
 away. It should be mentioned that Miss Porter, on 
 taking his hand at first, had observed it to be small, 
 thin, and blue-veined like a lady's. A few days after, 
 
330 MEMOIR. 
 
 a young medical student, visiting Mrs Porter's, men- 
 tioned the curious circumstance, that an old gentleman 
 had been run over by a wagon in the streets, had been 
 carried to the infirmary, and was there found to be a 
 female. It was afterwards learned that this singular 
 person was the sister of a clergyman, a person of good 
 connections, who had a slight craze, and believed him- 
 self to be Jeanie Cameron, of whom an untrue scandal 
 had been reported. The injured female died in the 
 infirmary. 
 
 * Miss Porter's brother, Robert, when a mere child, 
 had been taken to drink tea with some of the rest of 
 the family, in a house where they met Flora Macdonald. 
 A picture attracted his attention, and he shewed a 
 curiosity to see it nearer. Flora put him upon a chair 
 to see it, told him it was the battle of Preston, and gave 
 him some explanations about it. This, he used to 
 acknowledge afterwards, was his first lesson in historical 
 painting. 
 
 'Lady Anne Barnard told Miss Porter that she had 
 written Auld Robin Gray, in order to raise a little money 
 for the succour of an old nurse, having no other means. 
 She had heard from her music-master, that so much as 
 five pounds was sometimes got for a successful song, and 
 she thought she would try. It was successful in the 
 object. Lady Anne wrote much poetry besides, which 
 is preserved by one of her relations.' [The Miss Porter 
 above referred to was Jane, authoress of Thaddeus of 
 Warsaw and the Scottish Chiefs. She died 1850.] 
 
 PLAYFULNESS OF ANIMALS. 
 
 (July 22.) 'It is well known that lambs hold regular 
 sports apart from their dams, which only look on at a 
 
ADAPTIVENESS. 331 
 
 little distance to watch and perhaps enjoy the happiness 
 of their offspring. Monkeys act in the same manner. 
 Mr Leigh Hunt, with whom I supped this evening, told 
 me that he had observed a young spider sporting about 
 its parent, running up to and away from it in a playful 
 manner. He has likewise watched a kitten amusing 
 itself by running along past its mother, to whom she 
 always gave a little pat on the cheek as she passed. 
 The older cat endured this tranquilly for a while ; but 
 at length, becoming irritated by it, she took an oppor- 
 tunity to hit her offspring a blow on the side of the 
 head, which sent the little creature spinning to the other 
 side of the room, where she looked extremely puzzled 
 at what had happened. An irritated human being would 
 have acted in precisely the same manner.' 
 
 ADAPTIVENESS. 
 
 (July 27.) 'There is a quality of human nature which 
 may be called adaptiveness. Some persons readily 
 adapt themselves to any new society into which they 
 may be thrown ; others not. When a man rises in the 
 world, it is often found that his wife does not, cannot 
 rise with him. Sometimes this does not proceed solely 
 from want of the intellect and taste requisite for the 
 purpose, but from a kind of wilfulness. Not feeling 
 that new acquaintances attribute any peculiar merit to 
 her, or pay her any particular attention, she affects to 
 hold lightly the marks of approbation bestowed upon 
 her husband, and takes a kind of pleasure in not favour- 
 ing his advance. In some cases, the mere sense of 
 awkwardness under the new circumstances may operate 
 to the same effect. Women ought to consider it as a 
 duty to adapt themselves, as far as they may, to their 
 
332 MEMOIR. 
 
 changed condition. A regard for the happiness of the 
 husband and family demands it. 1 
 
 IGNORANCE OF NATURAL HISTORY. 
 
 ' At the meeting of the British Association at Cam- 
 bridge (June 1845), Mr Goadby, who had his beautiful 
 anatomical preparations of the lower animals exhibited 
 at the model-room, was greatly struck by the appearance 
 of ignorance in the gownsmen, as shewn in the remarks 
 which they made and the questions they asked. One 
 who had a lady on his arm told his fair companion that 
 these were models. Another similarly attended, apparently 
 wishing to avoid troublesome questions, said to her 
 very oracularly : " Oh, this is all anatomy." A third 
 collegian inquired who made those things ? " The 
 glasses do you mean?" inquired Mr Goadby. "No; 
 the things in the glasses." " The same that made you," 
 was the reply. Several men, better informed, spoke of 
 the objects comprehensively as insects, though only a 
 portion of them were of that class in the animal 
 kingdom. None of these men had ever heard of such 
 a thing as a mollusk or an echinoderm. Altogether, 
 Mr G. thinks he never before shewed his preparations 
 to a more ignorant set of visitors than the gownsmen 
 of Cambridge. 
 
 * As an illustration of the benefit that might be derived 
 from the introduction of natural history into schools, 
 Mr Goadby was once lecturing on his preparations at 
 Cheltenham, when he had, amongst his other auditors, 
 
 Lord M , of the Irish peerage. Lord M. is a 
 
 middle-aged man, congenitally lame, insomuch that he is 
 dependent on others for locomotion. Possessing an 
 active mind, and forbidden to take the amusements of 
 
SHYNESS AND MODESTY. 333 
 
 other men of his order, he has given his mind a good 
 deal up to study, but not wholly, for the gaming-table 
 had unfortunately asserted a strong claim over him, and 
 he had thus lost the whole of his patrimonial property, 
 reserving only a diminished income from some estates 
 of his wife. This clever nobleman, whom everybody 
 loved for his amiable dispositions, seemed exceedingly 
 interested in the lecture, and after it was over, he 
 lingered an hour, inspecting and inquiring into the 
 peculiarities of the animals which formed the subject 
 of it At last, he burst out : " If I had been taught 
 such things in my youth, what it would have been 
 for me ! " implying that the having such an amusement 
 for his leisure would have saved him from those wretched 
 pursuits in which he had sought excitement, and which 
 had proved his ruin.' 
 
 SHYNESS AND MODESTY. 
 
 'Shyness is a curious peculiarity of some men, and the 
 explanation of much that is dubious and obscure in their 
 behaviour. It often happens that a man gets the 
 reputation of being haughty or unsocial, when he is only 
 shy. An unconquerable bashfulness oppresses him. 
 When such a man is drawn into company participating 
 in the excitement of the hour, and having got over all 
 the difficulties of the first address, he generally comes 
 out : often we find him talkative and entertaining, so 
 that strangers go away, saying : " Well, there is one of 
 the pleasantest men I have met with." Strange it is to 
 meet the same man next day, and find him make an 
 
 effort to avoid you. Lord M , a person of this kind, 
 
 always walks along the inner side of the pavement, 
 with eyes bent on the ground, as if anxious to escape 
 
334 MEMOIR. 
 
 observing or being observed. The J. G. (Boyle), who is 
 associated with him on duty every day for one half the 
 
 year, has actually known Lord M to cross to another 
 
 side of the road on approaching him, and endeavour to 
 escape his notice by pretending to take an interest in 
 something on the other side of the hedge. Men, on the 
 other hand, who get the reputation of being forward, 
 are often merely men of strong animal spirits; these 
 rendering them frank and bold in society, where, from 
 their comparative rank, they are expected to be quiet 
 and respectful. 
 
 ' In some cases, shyness may arise from modesty an 
 unwillingness to intrude. Be this as it may, it is well to 
 bear in mind that the world generally takes men at their 
 own apparent estimate of themselves. Hence modest 
 men never do attain the same consideration which 
 bustling, forward men do. It has not time or patience 
 to inquire rigidly, and it is partly imposed upon and car- 
 ried away by the man who vigorously claims its regards. 
 The world also never has two leading ideas about any 
 man. There is always a remarkable unity in its concep- 
 tions of the characters of individuals. If a historical per- 
 son has been cruel in a signal degree, he is set down as 
 cruel and nothing else, although he may have had many 
 good qualities, all but equally conspicuous. If a literary 
 man is industrious in a remarkable degree, the world 
 speaks of him as only industrious, though he may also 
 be very ingenious.' 
 
 - LACTATION. 
 
 'Can lactation have any effect in determining the 
 moral character of infants ? A friend of mine has a son 
 who, on account of the death of his mother immediately 
 
LACTATION. 335 
 
 after his birth, was given out to be nursed by a woman 
 in humble life. This woman was afterwards found to 
 be very worthless. The boy, who is now in his six- 
 teenth year, has already been a source of great distress 
 to his father, in consequence of strong traits of character 
 destitute of probity. He cannot be corrected by any 
 kind of discipline out of a propensity to dissimulation. 
 The strange thing about him is, that no sooner does he 
 commit some gross offence than he expresses regret for 
 what he has done, promises never to do the like again, 
 and then all at once commits some fresh mischief, to be 
 in turn repented of. As a last resource, he was sent to 
 a school at Brussels ; but he ran away from it in dis- 
 graceful circumstances, came to London, and entered 
 the army as a private soldier. This, as usual, he said 
 he was sorry for, and wished to be bought off. His 
 father, however, said he would only do so on his rising, 
 by good conduct, to be a corporal. So he went with 
 his regiment to India.' [There, as was afterwards 
 learned, he died.] 'My friend, the father of this 
 unhappy youth, imputes his moral imperfections to 
 lactation. He was, he thinks, vitiated by the milk of 
 his nurse. And he says he is warranted in this notion 
 by having heard of other instances of vitiation of char- 
 acter by similar means. It is worthy of remark that 
 the boy was with his nurse only during the time of 
 lactation. 
 
 'It does not seem unlikely that a child born of 
 virtuous parents, and partaking of their organisation, 
 may partake of a corrupt element from a milk-nurse. 
 The constitution of the new being in our species is not 
 completed at birth, as it is in some of the lower animals. 
 The lactation is a portion of the process of reproduction. 
 
336 MEMOIR. 
 
 That portion being conducted by a distinct parent of 
 inferior moral character, may be the means of intro- 
 ducing a depravity where, originally, all was morally 
 fair. In other words, we might say that at birth a child 
 is not thoroughly quit of its mother. Nature designs 
 the connection to subsist until the period of milk- 
 nursing is past. 
 
 * In the Coltness Collections, is a passage express- 
 ing the sentiments of the wife of Sir James Stewart 
 of Coltness, who was Lord Provost of Edinburgh in 
 1650. She strictly declined the offer of her husband to 
 have her children sent out to hired wet-nurses, saying 
 " she should never think her child wholly her own, when 
 another discharged the most part of a mother's duty, 
 and by wrong nourishment to her tender babe might 
 induce wrong habits or noxious diseases." She added : 
 " I have often seen children take more a strain of their 
 nurse than their mother.'" 
 
 EPISTLE BY A DISTRESSED DIRECTOR. 
 
 As a zealous advocate of life assurance, my brother 
 connected himself with the Scottish Equitable Life 
 Assurance Society, in which he in time became a 
 director, and regularly attended the meetings. On the 
 occasion of the annual dinner of the directors in 
 November 1847, he had the misfortune, while on a 
 geological excursion in Lanarkshire, to be detained at a 
 small inn at Harestanes. To while away the very 
 dreary evening, he wrote (as seen by his note-book) the 
 following rhymed epistle, addressed to W. S. Walker of 
 Bowland, with whom, as a co-director, he should that 
 day have dined : 
 
THE DISTRESSED DIRECTOR. 337 
 
 1 My chair and my plate will be empty to-night 
 (Thus sadly an errant Director complains), 
 For while they are feasting o'er platters so bright, 
 Fate binds me to tea and a chop at Harestanes ! 
 
 O Walker, be not at my absence offended, 
 
 'Tis I, and not you, who condolence may claim ; 
 
 Did you know but how sadly your colleague 's been stranded, 
 You would say that his stars, and not he, were to blame. 
 
 And did you but see him now scribbling forlorn, 
 
 With his one mutton candle that waves in the breeze, 
 
 In the worst inn's best room all so tattered and torn, 
 With its small fire within half an inch of his knees. 
 
 And did you but hear how the mail had deceived him, 
 How posting had failed like a dream in his clutch, 
 
 How for twice twenty hours disappointment had grieved him, 
 You would say he already is punished too much. 
 
 Nor yet is he sure that his troubles are ended, 
 
 From London he might in less time have come down ; 
 
 And should he not be by the night-coach befriended, 
 It may be half a week yet before he reach town. 
 
 So much for cross roads, and so much for long stages 
 (Thus musing our errant Director complains) ; 
 
 He could scarce wish Old Scratch, in his direst of rages, 
 A Tantalean evening thus spent at Harestanes ! ' 
 
 From desultory thoughts on a variety of secular sub- 
 jects in prose and verse, my brother seems to have 
 latterly turned to those literary exercises of a religious 
 nature already specified. It is impossible to say, 
 definitely, on what he was for the last time occupied. 
 I am inclined, however, from appearances, to think 
 that it was the catechism for the young, which, like 
 
 v 
 
338 MEMOIR. 
 
 some other compositions, was left unfinished. As 
 throwing some light on the views he entertained regard- 
 ing man's destiny, the following passages, at the point 
 where the manuscript breaks off, may appropriately 
 conclude the present chapter. After a series of ques- 
 tions and answers regarding the Divine Government of 
 the world, he comes to some of the duties imposed on 
 human beings. 
 
 ' Q. Have you any special rules to assign for the 
 guidance of men in this world ? 
 
 'A. Yes; some rules may be set down which will 
 form a guidance in the common run of circumstances. 
 
 ' Q. How do you describe them ? 
 
 'A. They may be wholly described as duties that 
 is, observances, and doings which we owe to our fellow- 
 creatures. 
 
 * Q. Have we not also duties towards ourselves ? 
 
 ' A. Some duties are so called ; but a duty is properly 
 something owed, and in owing, another person is 
 necessarily concerned. It can easily be shewn, of all 
 duties said to be owing to ourselves, that they are, more 
 comprehensively, duties owing to society. 
 
 ' Q. Will you first describe that class of duties ? 
 
 ' A. A man is required to cultivate a sense of depend- 
 ence on, and responsibility to, GOD, the author and 
 ruler of his being, the arbiter of his final destiny, because 
 it is good for his spiritual nature to do so, and the 
 better he is in this respect it is the better for society. 
 He ought to study to preserve his self-respect, because 
 without that he can bear little value towards his fellow- 
 creatures. He is called on to cultivate the means of 
 preserving his health, because, in sickness and infirmity, 
 
A CATECHISM. 339 
 
 he is an encumbrance instead of a benefit to society. 
 It is incumbent on him to practise diligence in his 
 calling, and prudence in his household, because without 
 these qualities in individuals society would be scarcely 
 able to exist. 
 
 * Q. Do men not sometimes make mistakes as to what 
 seems their duty ? 
 
 1 A. Yes ; men sometimes entertain feelings of ambi- 
 tion, under a pretext of duty to themselves, with little 
 or no regard to the good of the community. Such 
 feelings being only selfish, are detestable. On the other 
 hand, to obtain wealth and power by fair means, and 
 employ them generally towards others, is not merely 
 justifiable, but laudable. The unfailing criterion in all 
 such personal matters is how do they affect our neigh- 
 bours ? If well, then we are doing right ; if ill, then we 
 are doing wrong. Where we only seek to make our- 
 selves as good, wise, useful, as possible, we are certainly 
 fulfilling the ends of God in society, and may claim 
 approval of God and man. 
 
 ' Q. Please now to describe the duties where a more 
 direct reference is made to others. 
 
 'A. They are partly negative and partly positive. 
 We are called on to abstain from injuring our neighbour, 
 in his property, his health and life, his feelings, his good 
 name, his rights of all kinds, and rather to promote his 
 good in these respects. One most important duty is to 
 practise upon him no deception by word or deed. 
 Another, is to respect his right of forming his own 
 opinions, without which he is marred in the exercise of 
 that final judgment on right and wrong which has been 
 set forth as the Divine voice speaking within him. We 
 must also respect his right of employing his faculties in 
 
340 MEMOIR. 
 
 the way that seemeth to him best, consistently with the 
 good of his fellow-creatures. 
 
 ' Q. Does this view of duties apply also in the affairs 
 of state? 
 
 'A. Undoubtedly. In political procedure, truth, 
 rectitude, forbearance, and respect for rights are as 
 much required as in ordinary society. And as no man 
 can neglect or violate the simplest laws which bind him 
 to his neighbour, without creating some degree of suffer- 
 ing, which is liable to react against himself, so it is 
 certain that those in authority cannot use it recklessly 
 or oppressively without producing an unhappiness which 
 will turn round to their own annoyance, injury, or de- 
 struction. There is, in short, but one rule of duty in the 
 world, and that is summed in " Love your Neighbour." 
 . . . The errors and delusions of mankind are unfortu- 
 nately endless ; and they are to be deplored, not only as 
 occupying much time and thought uselessly, but as 
 obscuring our ideas as to what is of real importance for 
 the fulfilment of the Divine purposes of our being.' 
 
 These may be considered to be among the last 
 sentiments written by my brother. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HIS LAST DAYS, DEATH, AND CHARACTER. 
 
 HPHE year 1870 opened gloomily in that pleasant- 
 * looking house at St Andrews. After a short 
 illness, and very unexpectedly, my brother's second 
 wife died on the i8th January. Now was he again in a 
 sense desolate. Yet, though afflicted with this fresh 
 calamity, and broken down in health, he did not repine. 
 His bereavements only tended the more to bring out 
 his true character. In him were now seen united the 
 piety of the Christian with the philosophy of an ancient 
 sage. ' I know,' he said, ' that my days are numbered. 
 My time cannot be long. I feel the gradual but sure 
 indication of approaching dissolution. But don't let us 
 be dismal about it; that would be alike futile and sinful.' 
 And so he spoke as one reconciled to his appointed 
 destiny. Setting his affairs in order, he looked calmly 
 on the advances of the destroyer. He had done his 
 work, and we may be permitted to think that he had 
 done it nobly. 
 
 Pale and feeble, he crept about, took short drives, and 
 received visitors as usual ; for bodily weakness did not 
 in the least affect his spirits. With one of his married 
 daughters, Mrs Dowie, who had come to visit him, he 
 
342 MEMOIR. 
 
 walked to the Cathedral Burial-ground, and pointed out 
 the spot where he wished to be interred. It was the 
 interior of the old church of St Regulus. * There,' said 
 he, 'I hope to have the honour of finding a resting- 
 place ; I should certainly be in excellent company, for 
 Mr Lyon, the historian of St Andrews, told me there 
 is a surprising number of bishops interred here.' The 
 desire to be buried in this place of historical note was 
 what might have been looked for. The church of St 
 Regulus is one of the most ancient ecclesiastical struc- 
 tures in Scotland. It dates from the twelfth century, and, 
 as seen by its tall square tower, is built in the Roman- 
 esque style. When the cathedral, a more modern and 
 ornamental structure, was laid in ruin by a mob at the 
 Reformation, this adjacent antique church was so far 
 spared, that till this day it remains all, except the roof, 
 in a state of good preservation. Carefully secured as 
 crown property, it cannot be called a part of the general 
 cemetery; and interment within it requires the sanction of 
 the chief commissioner of Her Majesty's Board of Works. 
 Being recommended change of scene, my brother 
 accompanied Mrs Dowie to her home at West Kirby, 
 near Birkenhead ; and thereafter, in April, went with 
 her, by way of Gloucester, to Torquay, where for a time 
 he took up his abode. Here he felt a slight improve- 
 ment of health, and was able not only to attend and 
 fully enjoy an interesting lecture by Mr Pengelly on the 
 discoveries in Kent's Cavern, but to visit the cave, and 
 make remarks on the objects of natural history that had 
 recently been brought to light. Before returning home, 
 he once more visited Mrs Priestley in London, and also 
 his surviving sister, Mrs Wills, at Sherrards, in Hertford- 
 shire, where he greatly enjoyed the beauty of a quiet 
 
LAST ILLNESS. 343 
 
 rural scene. Brightened up a little by these visits among 
 relatives, he returned to Scotland, in the company of his 
 youngest daughter, who describes the fervency of his 
 emotion in crossing the Border and finding himself again 
 in his native country. He got back to St Andrews in 
 June. 
 
 From this time, he did not leave home, where, to 
 keep him company, he was visited, one after the other, 
 by several of his daughters. I went to see him in 
 August, and found him in a frail condition, though able 
 to converse on literary and other topics. His most 
 conspicuous ailment was want of appetite, along with a 
 deadly paleness of countenance. So greatly was his 
 system disorganised, that, on sitting down to table, he 
 could not eat. Nothing that he was solicited to take 
 did him any good, farther than keeping up the spark of 
 life. Still, in a way, he joked and told stories, felt an 
 interest in the stirring news concerning France, and 
 continued to take delight in music. 
 
 Towards the conclusion of autumn, a change for the 
 worse took place, and his mind was visibly weakened. 
 Then came winter in more than ordinary severity, with 
 its deadly effects on the aged and invalid. Shortly after 
 the beginning of 1871, he could no longer sit up, and 
 for his accommodation, his study, adjoining the library, 
 had been for some time fitted up as a bedroom. Here 
 I found him in bed on the 27th January. He said he 
 preferred to be in this apartment, for it was on a level 
 with the sitting-rooms, whence he could hear something 
 of the lively conversation of his daughters, and where 
 they could conveniently see him. A piano was placed 
 in the library for his solacement. 
 
 Constantly attended by Dr Oswald Bell, and by great 
 
344 MEMOIR. 
 
 care in nursing, he got through the winter. His married 
 daughters now left him, it being arranged they should 
 come back in turn, when required. Day by day, he lost 
 strength, and one of them, Mrs Dowie, returned. On 
 her appearance, he said he was glad that she had come 
 back to see the last of him. On Sunday, i2th March, 
 he was able to listen to, and heartily appreciate his 
 favourite prayers and psalms in the Morning Service 
 ejaculating from time to time : ' How true, how beautiful.' 
 
 In a note to me, Mrs Dowie gives a .simple and 
 touching account of the closing scene : 
 
 'On Wednesday the isth, he described himself as 
 "quite wordless," and just pressing our hands, returned 
 our embraces with fervour. He begged for some music, 
 and was much gratified on my playing to him Macpher- 
 soils Farewell, an air he greatly admired, and which in 
 former years he used to play himself on the piano, with 
 my accompaniment. Next day, he seemed very torpid, 
 and scarcely spoke to us, more than answering questions. 
 Early in the following morning, life was fleeting away. 
 His last faintly uttered words were : " Quite comfort- 
 able quite happy nothing more!" And so, with us 
 sitting in silent tears beside him, at about five o'clock 
 on Friday morning, the lytli March, he gently breathed 
 his last.' 
 
 At this mournful juncture, I had gone to London 
 on account of the illness of my youngest brother, David, 
 whose health had for some time been in a critical condi- 
 tion partly the result of a fall from an omnibus, which 
 left injurious effects on the system ; and partly from 
 distress at the death of his wife. He was now confined 
 to bed, and in so delicate a state that intelligence of 
 the death of Robert brought on a paroxysm, which 
 
DEA TH AND FUNERAL. 345 
 
 terminated in his decease on the 2ist March. Of the 
 last painful scene I could not be a witness, for I was 
 required at St Andrews to assist at the funeral of my 
 brother Robert. 
 
 This solemnity took place on the 22d; and to meet 
 the wishes of many who expressed a wish to be present, 
 the arrangements were more of a public character than 
 had at first been intended. Service was performed over 
 the body in the Episcopal chapel, by the incumbent, 
 the Rev. L. Tuttiett; after which the procession of 
 friends and relatives proceeded to the church of St 
 Regulus, in the Cathedral Burying-ground, for inter- 
 ment in which permission had been obligingly granted. 
 On approaching the cemetery, the funeral procession 
 was met by the provost and magistrates of St Andrews, 
 also by members of the Senatus Academicus, with 
 their official insignia. Surrounded by a large and 
 sympathising crowd, and with the last offices of the 
 church, the body of Robert Chambers was lowered 
 into the grave, where it reposes amidst the dust of 
 ecclesiastics whose names are now only known by the 
 records of history.* 
 
 In his sermon on Sunday 26th, the Rev. Mr Tuttiett 
 made some remarks on the deceased. A few passages 
 may be quoted : 
 
 *A little more than a year ago, when first I came to 
 minister in this church, there sat before me one to whom 
 I could not but turn with especial interest at that time. He 
 
 * He left the following family Jane (Mrs F. Lehmann) ; Robert ; 
 Anne (Mrs Dowie) ; Eliza (Mrs Priestley) ; Amelia (Mrs R. Leh- 
 mann) ; James ; William ; Phoebe (Mrs Zeigler) ; and Alice. Mary 
 (Mrs Edwards) predeceased him, leaving three orphan children to 
 his care. 
 
34 5 MEMOIR. 
 
 was, I knew, a man dear to many of his fellow-worshippers, 
 dear to the place in which he lived, dear to his country, and 
 to many far away. He was a man of high endowments, 
 great and varied knowledge, deep philosophy, sound judg- 
 ment, and refined taste. He was also what is far better 
 than all this a man of upright and unostentatiously religious 
 life noble and kind in his nature, gentle and modest in his 
 manner, genial and warm in his sympathies, faithful in his 
 friendships, and generous in his dealings. He had come 
 from his recently bereaved home to seek comfort in the 
 common prayers of the Christian Brotherhood with whom 
 he delighted to worship. The text of the sermon he heard 
 on that occasion was taken from Saint Paul's address in the 
 synagogue of Antioch : " David, after he had served his 
 own generation, by the will of God, fell on sleep, and was 
 laid to his fathers." Those words seem to have struck his 
 mind most forcibly. I shall not forget with what earnest- 
 ness and solemnity he afterwards commented upon them. 
 They suggested, he thought, " a sublime ideal of human life, 
 and a comfortable view of decease." Certainly, he seems 
 to have kept such an ideal before him. He " served his 
 own generation " in the way God marked out for him faith- 
 fully and well. Let me only remind you how much he has 
 done, in conjunction with the brother who now survives 
 him, for the dissemination of that pure, wholesome litera- 
 ture, which, though not coming under the special denomina- 
 tion of religious, has very greatly served the cause of religion, 
 by humanising and elevating the mind, and thus preparing 
 it for the direct teaching of divine truth. Those who, like 
 myself, have been much interested in the work of popular 
 education in England, must ever honour his name for this 
 service to the generation in which he lived. But my object 
 is not so much to speak his praises, as to gather out for 
 myself and for you the instruction of his life and example. 
 He was a great lover of nature, and a patient, nor by any 
 means an unsuccessful, student of her works. And he was 
 ever ready to encourage the investigations of every man 
 
PRIVATE CHARACTER. 347 
 
 whose heart was loyal to truth, even though the investi- 
 gator might seem, in his better judgment, to be pro- 
 ceeding upon a wrong principle. But, certainly, in his 
 conversations with myself, he ever evinced the clearest 
 recognition of a Personal God moving amidst His own 
 
 creation, and ruling it constantly by His Word 
 
 He seems to have had so great a reverence for the deep 
 things of God, and so humbling a sense of his own inability 
 to grapple with them, that he was ever most unwilling to 
 converse about them. He was, I believe, a sincerely 
 attached member of the Episcopal Church of Scotland. He 
 venerated its old historic associations and traditions. He 
 loved its sound and sober standards of faith and devotion. 
 At the same time, he very highly esteemed the ministers of 
 the National Establishment ; he did full justice to the good 
 he knew in other communions ; and he never counted men 
 offenders for difference of opinion. . . . He seemed to be a 
 man of vigorous, manly intellect, sparing no labour, no self- 
 devotion, in the acquirement of whatever knowledge he 
 thought it good, for himself and for his fellow-creatures, to 
 possess ; and, at the same time, a man of pure, gentle, kind, 
 and unselfish character, whom it was impossible to know 
 and not to love.' 
 
 Here terminates our Memoir. The principal subject 
 of it had passed away in his sixty-ninth year, a victim, as 
 it appeared to himself and his family, of that species of 
 excessive literary labour which, by overtasking the ner- 
 vous system, often proves so fatal. Of the esteem gene- 
 rally entertained for him in his private character, I do 
 not propose to dilate. His genial and kindly dispos- 
 ition, to say nothing of his acquirements, gave him many 
 friends. Never had children a more loving father. In 
 public affairs, he was not qualified to take a prominent 
 part. At one time, as has been seen, he edited a news- 
 paper in the old Conservative interest, but his politics 
 
34 8 MEMOIR. 
 
 were of a mild type; and latterly he was numbered 
 among the friends of social progress within sound 
 constitutional limits. On few things was he more 
 resolute than in upholding the principles of free trade, 
 the opposition to which, particularly as regards the free 
 importation of corn and other elements of food, he con- 
 sidered to be not only a prodigious economic blunder, 
 but a great national crime. His generosity in extend- 
 ing aid to the needy and deserving was a marked 
 trait in his character. His tastes led him to be elected 
 a Fellow of several learned Societies, and, as stated, 
 he was a member of the Athenaeum Club. Diligent, 
 accurate, and upright, he had clear views on all ordinary 
 concerns; and no one could be more unscrupulous in 
 his denunciation of whatever was narrow, mean, or dis- 
 honourable. If, in any of these respects, he sometimes 
 cherished resentments that, founded on misconception 
 and prejudice, had better have been forgotten, it is 
 allowable to think that such failings might fairly be 
 imputed to an overwrought susceptibility of temperament 
 not common in the ordinary walks of life. 
 
 With regard to my brother's literary character and 
 works, I shall not, having said so much already, attempt 
 any elaborate estimate or analysis. His best services 
 were devoted to his native country, and, with the 
 exception of his illustrious contemporary, Sir Walter 
 Scott, no other author has done so much to illustrate 
 its social state, its scenery, romantic historical inci- 
 dents, and antiquities the lives of its eminent men 
 and the changes in Scottish society and the condition 
 of the people (especially those in the capital), during the 
 last two centuries. His first work, the Traditions of 
 Edinburgh, evinced this strong bias and ruling passion 
 
LITERARY CHARACTER. 349 
 
 of his mind. He was, as has been stated, assisted by 
 Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe and Sir Walter Scott, but 
 the great bulk of the traditions and all their setting were 
 his own. He knew every remarkable house, its pos- 
 sessors, and their genealogy; every wynd and close 
 from the Castle-hill to Holyrood; and in describing 
 these, he pOured forth a vast' amount of curious 
 reading and information, much of which would have 
 been lost but for the taste and diligence of so enthusi- 
 astic a collector. Perhaps this work will hereafter be 
 considered the most unique and valuable of all his 
 labours. His next production, however, has enjoyed a 
 still greater share of popularity. I allude to the History 
 of the Rebellion of 1745-6, a work which was very 
 carefully written; and the subject had a wide and deep 
 interest, for the enterprise of Charles Edward was one 
 of those bold and striking events in which history 
 assumes the colour and fascination of romance. As 
 latterly extended, by materials gathered from the Lyon 
 in Mourning* the book has taken its place among our 
 standard historical works, as a faithful and animated 
 narrative of one of the most striking and memorable 
 periods in our national annals. 
 
 The other popular histories written between 1827 and 
 1830 are less original and less valuable than the narra- 
 tive of the '45. The Calendars of State Papers were not 
 then published, nor had antiquarian clubs and family 
 repositories enriched our stores of historical knowledge 
 
 * This curious and valuable collection of manuscripts has been 
 bequeathed to the Faculty of Advocates, Edinburgh, in grateful 
 acknowledgment of the many benefits derived from their extensive 
 library. 
 
350 MEMOIR. 
 
 with those minute and graphic details which add life, 
 and spirit, and individuality to the pages of Macaulay 
 and Frond e. My brother's works are of the nature 
 of memoirs. His object was to present a view or 
 portraiture of the external circumstances of the period 
 embraced a series of military narratives rather than 
 to attempt ' histories of the legitimate description, which 
 should appeal only to the moral faculties of the select 
 few.' He anticipated Macaulay in desiring to make 
 history interesting to the many, embracing details of the 
 manners, customs, social habits, and daily life of the 
 nation ; and with all young readers, and generally with 
 the middle and lower ranks of the Scottish people, he 
 was eminently successful. Of a kindred character with 
 these works was the Popular Rhymes of Scotland, an 
 amusing embodiment of folk-lore and mementos of 
 childhood descending from one generation to another 
 in various countries of Europe. 
 
 By the establishment of Chambers' s Journal, my 
 brother was haprjily led into a new walk of literature. 
 He came forward as a weekly essayist. During fifteen 
 years, as he has himself related, he laboured in this field, 
 ' alternately gay, grave, sentimental, and philosophical,' 
 until not much fewer than four hundred separate papers 
 proceeded from his pen. In these were best seen his 
 imaginative faculties. His familiar and humorous 
 sketches of Scottish life and character are allowed to 
 be true to nature; they were certainly drawn from 
 the life, and may be compared to the descriptions 
 of Henry Mackenzie in the Mirror and Lounger as to 
 discrimination and fidelity of portraiture ; but those 
 of the earlier essayist are confined to the higher ranks 
 of Scottish society. Many of my brother's essays 
 
LITERARY CHARACTER. 351 
 
 are also on literary and antiquarian topics, and will be 
 found not only honourable to his diligence as a self- 
 directed and self-upheld student, but replete with correct, 
 humane, and manly feeling. Essays or short disquisi- 
 tions on scientific subjects were occasionally inserted in 
 the Journal, for, as has been shewn, my brother, latterly, 
 devoted much time and study to geology and other 
 departments of physical science the result of which 
 was the work on Ancient Sea-margins, and a variety of 
 papers communicated to the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 
 
 In attending the annual meetings of the British Asso- 
 ciation, he attached himself chiefly to the Geological 
 Section, in which he had an opportunity of debating on 
 his favourite branch of study. This, however, was all 
 holiday work. His patient investigation, his long and 
 toilsome journeys, and his careful accumulation of facts 
 employed in establishing his geological theories, indi- 
 cate the true scientific spirit and enthusiasm, and there 
 can be little doubt that, had the circumstances of his 
 early life been more favourable, he would have taken a 
 high place among the men of science who have illus- 
 trated the nineteenth century. Considering that his 
 education, as he frankly avows, never cost his parents 
 so much as ten pounds, the wonder is that he did so 
 much. 
 
 As regards his Cyclopedia of English Literature, his 
 Life and Writings of Burns, his Domestic Annals of Scot- 
 land, his Book of Days, and the lesser works he produced, 
 sufficient has perhaps been said in the course of this 
 Memoir. On none of his later works did he look back 
 with so much heart-felt pleasure and satisfaction, and 
 none deserves greater praise, for its remarkable fidelity, 
 than that concerning Robert Burns. Here, for the first 
 
352 MEMOIR. 
 
 time, the life of the poet, with all its lights and shades, 
 was correctly delineated. The story of Highland Mary, 
 and the dark days of Dumfries, were placed truly before 
 the world, and allusions in the poems and letters were 
 fully explained. Of all future editions of the Scottish 
 poet, this explanatory and chronological one must form 
 the basis. 
 
 Altogether, as nearly as can be reckoned, my brother 
 produced upwards of seventy volumes, exclusive of 
 detached papers which it would be impossible to enumer- 
 ate. His whole writings had for their aim the good of 
 society the advancement in some shape or other of 
 the true and beautiful. It will hardly be thought that 
 I exceed the proper bounds of panegyric in stating, 
 that in the long list of literary compositions of ROBERT 
 CHAMBERS, we see the zealous and successful student, 
 the sagacious and benevolent citizen, and the devoted 
 lover of his country. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Edinburgh : 
 Printed by W. and R. Chambers. 
 
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