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MEMOIR
OF
WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS
WILLIAM CHAMBERS, LL.D.
^tDclfth (Eiiition
WITH SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER
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House at Peebles in which William and Rubi-.ki Ciiami;l]v.s weie boii
W. & R. CHAMBERS
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
1883
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PREFATORY NOTE.
On the death of my brother, Dr Robert Chambers,
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 opportunity, I
3J 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.
o 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
G> frequent reference to the other. I have so far yielded
v; to this necessity, as to ofter some Autobiographic
ft Reminiscences, in connection with the principal object
^^ in view. To this extent only is the Memoir that of two
ii individuals.
5 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
4G1H77
VI PREFATORY NOTE.
serves in any degree to inspire youth with notions of
self-reliance, along with a hopeful dependence on
Providence when pressed by adverse circumstances, I
shall be more than recompensed. W. C.
Janicary, 1872.
SEVENTH EDITION.
From the favourable manner in which the Memoir has
been received — the work having been carried through
six large editions in less than twelve months — I have
endeavoured to render it still more acceptable by a
careful revision, and more especially by giving a few
additional particulars concerning my brother's early life
(including an account of his introduction to Sir Walter
Scott), gathered chiefly from a volume of memoranda
recently found in his library. W. C.
January, 1873.
PREFACE TO TWELFTH EDITION.
To this edition a Supplementary Chapter has been
added, giving an account of the closing years of the
writer of this Memoir, and concluding with some notes
on the personal characteristics of the two brothers.
The Publishers.
July, 1883.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGB
EARLY YEARS— 1800 TO 1813 5
CHAPTER II.
EARLY YEARS CONTINUED— 180O TO 1813 30
CHAPTER III.
SETTLING IN EDINBURGH — 1813-1814 74
CHAPTER IV.
MY APPRENTICESHIP — 1814 TO 1819 85
CHAPTER V.
ROBERT'S EARLY DIFFICULTIES — 1814 TO 1819 123
CHAPTER VI.
MY OWN COMMENCEMENT IN BUSINESS— 1819 TO 1821...139
CHAPTER VII.
ROBERT'S WRITINGS — 1822 TO 1832 190
viii CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VIII.
PAGB
SOME REMINISCENCES — 1822 TO 1832 220
CHAPTER IX.
CHEAP LITERATURE MOVEMENT OF 1832 228
CHAPTER X.
THE CONDUCTING OF ' CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL' 237
CHAPTER XI.
RETROSPECT OF GENERAL WORK DONE 253
CHAPTER XII.
ROBERT'S LATER WORKS — 1842 TO 1865 273
CHAPTER XIII.
A SKELETON IN THE HOUSE, AND OTHER MATTERS... 31O
CHAPTER XIV.
ROBERT'S CLOSING YEARS, DEATH, AND CHARACTER... 324
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.
LATER YEARS AND DEATH OF WILLIAM CHAMBERS,
1865-1883 347
INDEX 395
MEMOIR.
CHAPTER I.
EARLY YEARS — 1800 TO 1813.
A /T Y 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.
6 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,
' 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. 7
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 stitle the inmates. Among these humble people, all
8 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 litde
cotton. One almost might think he saw the humbler
Scotch people of the seventeenth century before his eyes.
* In this old-town population, there survived two or
three aged persons who professed an adherence to
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 will 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.
EARLIEST RECOLLECTIONS. 9
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.
' I had reason to know the old town in my earliest
years, for our family then dwelt in it, though in a
modem-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
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 ot
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,
lo MEMOIR.
sometimes even more, and many young men of good
connections had joined the trade. My father, as agent
for several manufacturers in Glasgow, realised a good
income, which enabled him to live on an equality with
the best families of the place.
' The farthest retrogression which any one can make
in memory presents him a few obscure little matters start-
ing out, as it were, from a back-ground of clouds and
darkness. I can recall the little parlour, and a few of
its decorations ; an alabaster time-piece and three round
alabaster-framed pictures to match — a present from my
mother's brother, William Gibson, an officer in the army.
The prominent living figure in the parlour was a young
woman, of elegant shape, and delicately beautiful small
features, having a white cambric handkerchief crossing on
her bosom, with a lozenge-shaped gold brooch at the cross-
ing, and another thin cambric handkerchief tied loosely
round her neck \ a being of lady-like grace and expres-
sion, and scarcely yet in her twenty-fourth year, though
already the mother of three children, of whom I was the
second. Next to her in distinctness as a figure of the
memory was the husband of this lady, a neatly made,
rather short man in the prime of life, with a handsome
cast of face and an intelligent look ; much given to
reading and to music, being a tolerable performer on
the German flute, fond of scientific conversation, kindly
to children, and to everybody. There was but one
servant — dear, kind, clever Jeanie Forbes, who used to
charm my infant years with Scottish songs in wonderful
abundance, and sang with a melodiousness that I have
never heard surpassed. It was a delightful atmosphere
for me, for of my father's music and of Jeanie's songs
I never could tire.
WTLFJE PA TERSON'S BOO TS. t i
* 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
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 also still lingered in use.
* Boots, formerly used only in riding and travelling,
were in vogue with men who desired to be smartly
dressed. One could either have top-hoots, 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,
12 MEMOIR.
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.
" Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait,"
is a line in the Rejected Addresses, which strongly recalls
to me the year 1812.
' 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 could forgive everything in Tammas but the
OUR FIRST FLA V. 13
Sternness. 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,
and the manager went to Tammas, who was acting
chief-magistrate in the absence of the provost, to
negotiate 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 !"
e.xclaimed 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 /;d'/t' and Yarico. It was our first play.'
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 con-
version was all the more remarkable as being the result
of reading a novel, Thaddeus of Warsaw, which an aged
lady of kindly feeling persuaded him to peruse. The
noble and pathetic sentiments of Miss Porter, in nar-
rating 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 Tnklc and Yarico !
IJ
14 MEMOIR.
'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 sum-
mon 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 requisi-
tion 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 hus-
band was out for a forenoon'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. Accomplishments, such as are now so common,
were unknown; but all had a good education in English,
and their conversation was not deficient in intelligence.'
The mention of Candle Nell suggests that it was a
common practice in the town to call people by their
profession — as, for example. Baker Turnbull, Cooper
Gibson — and such designations were extended to the
wives, or it might be the sisters, of those personages.
The wife of the cooper was styled Cooper Jean. A
CANDLE NELL. 15
government official charged with the duty of taxing the
windows throughout the county, was sarcastically dis-
tinguished as Window Willie. A wildish lad, son of the
cauper (maker of caups or wooden dishes), was never
called anything but Cauper Jock. In some cases the
prefixes were given from the locality. An ingenious
blacksmith, who made a business of mending locks and
guns, was known only as Vennel John. The county
gave employment to a professional hunter of tods,
or foxes, who, known generally as Tod-hunter Will,
might, from his erratic character, have served as not a
bad prototype of 'Tod Gabbie' in Guy Mannering. In
the ' Tod Gabbie ' and ' Goose Gibbie ' of Scott, and
the *Souter Johnnie' of Burns, we see that the Peebles
people of past times were not exceptional in their
system of nomenclature.
Considering how little business was done, and also
the easy way in which things were conducted, one would
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 kept a cow. The
going forth of the town cows to their pasturage on a
neighbouring hill, and their return, constituted leading
and interesting 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 ])erambulated the streets with a gray plaid
twisted around his shoulders. Then came forth the
cows, deliberately, one by one, from their respective
ir, MEMOIR.
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 tlie 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 an appropriate 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 transac-
tions, and were more especially useful in snubbing
children, and keeping them in remembrance of theii
duty.
The 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 por-
ridge was not altogether to his mind, he would have for
reply: 'Lay your wame to your vvinnin" — 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
SCOTTISH PRO VERBS. x 7
with the advice in dietetics : 'You'll 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, if, on being sent an errand, he ventured
to complain of the distance, he would be told : 'It will
be lang before' you wear to the knee-lids ; ' — 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 'U 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 singu-
lar 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.
1 8 MEMOIR.
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, a simple good-natured being, 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.
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 distribu-
tion of oat-cakes, cheese, shortbread, and buns at the
doors of the inhabitants. Among those who secured a
respectable 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 the munificent salary of a pound a year from the
corporation, 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 com-
pleted 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
LAIRD GRIEVE. 19
called Welcome hame, my Dearie. It was part of his duty
to march through the town every evening between nine
and ten o'clock playing on his pipes, as a warning to
the inhabitants to go to their beds. The poor piper
died an aged man in July 1807. Robert, as recorded
in his juvenile memoir, attended the piper's funeral,
having had his first pair of trousers put on for the
occasion.
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
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 recommendations
consisted in saying a fresh grace to each batch of
mourners. Laird Grieve, an aged and facetious car-
penter, 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.
20 MEMOIR.
Laird Grieve was the only representative of the fine
arts in Peebles. In the town there was a house-painter,
who could manage to paint the lettering of a sign-board,
but was unable to execute anything pictorial. When
a vintner, therefore, wished to embellish his sign with
the alluring representation of a punch-bowl, a pint-
stoup, or a few wine-glasses, flanked with two tobacco-
pipes crosswise ; or, if more ambitious, he desired to
have the figure of a black bull passant, a red lion
rampant, or some other heraldic object stuck up over
his door, the laird was applied to, and gave uncommon
satisfaction — like Dick Tinto, taking payment in kind,
for when the work was finished, the painter had already
eaten and drunk out its value. In his old days,
when the poor laird was less able for these artistic
performances, and means fell short, he depended
mainly on turning peg-tops for the school-boys, besides
which handicraft, he resorted to the ingenious arti-
fice of composing doggerel verses, to repeat in making
a round of calls among friends. Any incident occurring
in the town would answer as a theme. On repeating
his verses, some slight refection was produced — and
exit the laird satisfied.
I may be excused offering this tribute of recollection
to an aged man, who in his time meritoriously per-
formed the useful part of town-carpenter, undertaker,
artist, peg-top maker, and versifier; and who, from his
facetious humours, kept the burgh in a degree of amuse-
ment for more than half a century.
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
OLD SUPERSTlTfO.VS. 21
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
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, when the roads
were snowed up, the inhabitants were put to great
straits. On one occasion, the town was without salt for
a fortnight. Frequently, the carriers could not get for-
ward until parties of men went to clear tlie way. Of this
snowing-up I retain vivid recollections, for, there being
no bank in the town, my father could not pay his work-
men their weekly wages until the arrival of the carrier,
who was fixed in a snow-wreath ten miles distant. On
such occasions, 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
22 MEMOIR.
the sun, which was used as fuel in various parts of
England after the middle of last century.
Although the town had existed for a thousand years oi
more, it possessed no printing-press. Only two or three
newspapers 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 usually performed the triple duty of acting as
jailer, constable, and agent for advertisements, which,
after collecting an audience, he read by means of a
pair of Dutch spectacles, and always pronounced
adverteesements.
Robert describes the way that the more affluent
burghers often spent their evenings.
' 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 hoiVj^'w^s 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
^rISS RTTCHIES. 23
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
Si Ronatis 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 totit-
ense/fible of the actual inn — a laird's town-house of the
seventeenth centur}-, with a grandc cour in front, acces-
sible by an arched gate surmounted by a dial — Avith 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.
' Our neighbour, Laird Grieve, the aged joiner and
undertaker, had a son, " Tam," who succeeded to his
business. Tam 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 ; and as a sort of
stand-by in his pinched circumstances, he followed his
father's profession of making peg-tops, or peeries, for the
school-boys. His dingy little workshop — a low thatched
building in which there was a strange confusion of work-
benches, turning-lathes, bits of wood, and shavings —
was therefore an interesting resort for youth. Tam was
24 MEMOIR.
also an excellent angler, in which capacity he was well
known to the late Professcw 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
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 occa-
sion. Dear traits of the old simple world, how delight-
ful to recall you in these scenes of comparative refinement
and comparative stiftness and frigidity!'
In Robert's reminiscences of the town in our boyish
days, he omits to notice some traits of character essen-
tially Scotch, which I should imagine are now so
entirely obliterated as to be unknown even by the
living generation.
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
TJM FLECK. 25
the ancient closes. At her humble fireside, under
the canopy of a huge chimney, where her half-bhnd 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
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.
*WeeI, Tam, what's the news the nicht?' would old
Geordie Murray say, as Tam entered with his Josephus
under his arm, and seated himself at the family fireside.
* Bad news, bad news,' replied Tam. ' 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 jtaid the most reverential attention. The
protracted and severe famine which was endured by the
26 MEMOIR.
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 Hsteners. All honour to the memory of
Tam 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
an antiquated and meagre scale, in a long thatched
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 centur}'. Here was a man of some
consideration — an independent manufacturer, so to
speak — and in no respect penurious, living in a style
inferior to that of any mechanic in the present day
MARGARET KERR. 27
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
few hours, visited perhaps as many as a dozen sick or
dying persons, and oftcred 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
28 MEMOIR.
of her having once taken the venerable Dr DalgHesh,
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,
Margaret determinedly rejoined in an under-tone :
* Ye '11 no hae lang to speer sic a Hke 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.
IVAUR THAN THE COO DEW. 29
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?'
'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
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 jjarish 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 1 8oO TO 1 8 I 3.
"DEFORE introducing my mother to the modest
■^-^ mansion, the first home of her married hfe,
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 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 0/d 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. 31
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
32 MEMOIR.
tenant of Newby, were comparatively wealthy.' In
marrying William Gibson, 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
Jedderfield 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. In the present day, we should in vain look
for this old farm-establishment, for every vestige of it is
gone ; and we only discover the spot, which is the edge
of a bank overhanging Haystoun Burn, by a decayed
tree that flourished in the comer of the small garden.
'There was a much less frugal style of life at
Newby than at Jedderfield. Although the homestead
consisted of only a cottage, containing a kitchen and
parlour, with the appendages of a barn, &c., it gave
shelter every night to groups of vagrant people, the multi-
tude 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 hcC, 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-remembered 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 kings bedesman, or licensed
ANDREW GEMMELLS. 33
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.
' 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
thus acquire of the old beggar's position by stating that
tlie 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
34 MEMOIR.
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 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
THE SHEPHERD'S DOG. 35
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 bini (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-cluthes." The
long-continued success of the crime of these wrel( iied
men was found to have depended on the wonderful
human-like sense of Miller's dog Wtrroiv. Aecompanietl
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
36 MEMOIR.
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 unhappmess, 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 motiier as that gentle ladylike
JEANIE GIBSON. 37
person already alluded to by Robert ; 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 circum-
stance that my father was undeserving of regard. He
possessed numerous estimable qualities, but in asso-
ciation with these, a pliancy of disposition, which,
according to the language of the world, renders a
man ' his own worst enemy.' He was inconsiderate,
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. Aft'ected
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 Encydopicdia Britatniua, at a time when
works of this expensive nature were purchased only by
461877
38 MEMOIR.
the learned and aflkient. 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 stated, was a tolerable, and certainly 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, w^as 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 ])oint 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
MUSICAL INDULGENCES. 39
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 ikplhs of despair.
What she did may afterwards a[)i)ear. 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
40 MEMOIR.
hand, and six toes on each foot. By the neighbours, as
I understand, this was thougJit 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
CRATS SCHOOL. 4>
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 efiect. When the teacher
was temporarily absent, there took place a battle of the
42 MEMOIR.
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
Sloane 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 Sloane 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
SLOAN'S SCHOOL. 43
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
Sloane'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
44 MEMOIR.
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.
Unless for the purpose of throwing light on past
times, I should not think of further alluding to Mr
Sloane's course of school discipline, which I have reason
to believe did not greatly differ from what prevailed
elsewhere. Force was in the ascendant, as it had been
a hundred years previously in schools high and low
everywhere. A character in one of the stories of Field-
ing, coarsely but facetiously observes in allusion to his
instruction in the classics, that he still bears the marks
oi Homo on his person. I can quite believe it An
SLOANE'S SCHOOL. 45
old friend resident in London avows, that after a long
period of years he still bears about his person marks
of the castigations to which, for very trifling short-
comings in his lessons, he was inhumanly subjected at
Sloane's school at Peebles ; that he looks back on his
educational career in his native town with horror.
I would not for a moment aver that Mr Sloane acted
on a principle of deliberate brutality. He fell in with
the common usages of his craft, and at the time referred
to, yielded too frequently to impulses of temper, which
I have no doubt he lived to regret — perhaps to
mourn over in the final dreams of retributive memory.
Although the tawse formed the authorised weapon
of punishment in his seminary, I have known Sloane
in the heat of passion to use a ruler when it came
readily to hand. On one occasion, for failing to answer
a question in Latin grammar concerning a particular
noun, I received a vengeful blow on the head with a
ruler, which raised a lump that did not disappear for a
fortnight. This was mere wantonness of tyranny over
children who had no power of defence. The strange
thing, as it now appears, is how such coarse chastise-
ments should have been publicly tolerated. The expla-
nation is easy. The complaints of those who suffered
from the violence of teachers were not listened to by
parents, whose notions of discipline generally lay in
the same direction. As yet, the power of kindness and
gentle suasion was scarcely understood. Appeals to
the higher sentiments, along with encouraging explana-
tions regarding the disciplinary and etymological value
of Latin, did not seem to be thought of by teachers.
No doubt, such personal assaults as I have seen at
school would now be viewed very gravely at common-
I)
46 MEMOIR.
law. At the time I speak of, however, there was prac-
tically neither recourse nor sympathy. On all hands
magistrates connived at cruelties in schools. At Peebles,
they lent the town officers to assist. Let no one speak
to me of the 'good old times.' They were times
marked by the most odious barbarity. Education was
carried on in an atmosphere of tears.
As Sloane's pupils were numerous and of different
ages, the juniors fell to the charge of an assistant, hired
for the purpose. The assistants were usually a poor
set ; who seemingly, like the unhappy usher facetiously
pictured by Goldsmith, were fain to put up with
drudgeries for the sake of a meagre salary along with
the comforts of board and lodging. For the most
part they had some distressing bodily infirmity which
excluded them from ordinary occupations. In my
recollection, one of these dilapidated beings, named
Howey, stands before me, wearing a second-hand
black coat much too big for his figure. Howey excelled
in the art of flogging, and was kept in no restraint.
With a fierce glare, he eyed boys as if they had been
made only to be thrashed. Roaming over the depart-
ment under his charge, his right arm SA\'ung strangely
backwards and forwards, apparently from some imper-
fection in the shoulder-joint In his hand he carried
very formidable tawse, the points of which were har-
dened by burning to give them due efficacy, and
inspire additional terror. So provided, his loose arm,
in its pendulum-like motions, was ever ready to inflict a
shower of blows on the head and shoulders of any
unhappy urchin who incurred his displeasure. This
wretch was discharged in consequence, I believe, of
some impropriety. The boys over whom he had
ROBBIE BALLANTYNE. 47
exerted his mean tyranny, rejoiced in his dismissal,
and were disposed to pelt him on quitting the town,
but he got away unobserved.
Another assistant whom I recollect was of a different
stamp. He was a young man named Robbie Eallan-
tyncj from somewhere in Selkirkshire, and while a good
scholar, was of a placid disposition. Robbie laboured
under the infirmity of a short leg and a long one ; the
short one being supplemented to the proper length by a
wooden stump fastened by straps to the leg. My chief
recollection of Robbie concerns a particular Sunday
morning, when all the boys in the school were assembled
in Mr Sloane's dining-room, to be put through their
facings in the Shorter Catechism, preliminary to being
marched in double file to the parish church. This was
an old institution in the business of teaching. School-
masters charged themselves with giving a certain degree
of religious instruction to their pupils, which was gene-
rally acceptable ; for as yet there was no great diversity
of opinion on spiritual matters. As in other branches
of culture, Sloane came up to the mark as a catechisL
There was one pleasant peculiarity in the Sunday
morning meeting. The tawse were laid aside, and there
l)revailed that kind of subdued quietness which char-
acterised all the proceedings of the day. The boys
hardly spoke above their breath. In making his rounds,
with a copy of the Catechism in his hand, Sloane dis-
covered that I with another boy, Walter Turnbull,
could not properly answer one of those subtle questions
for which this venerable compendium of divinity has
been renowned. Memory had for the moment failed.
What was to be done ? The offence was unpardonable,
but corporal punishment could not, in respect for the
48 MEMOIR.
day, be inflicted. Our schoolmaster got over the diffi-
culty. The t\vo culprits were condemned to remain
imprisoned in the dining-room under charge of Robbie
Ballantyne, while all the other boys went to church.
We two accordingly remained in durance, occasionally
thrumming at the Catechism, and at other times wist-
fully looking out of window towards the Tweed and
the Newby hills towering up beyond in the glowing
light of a summer day — Robbie, our jailor, stumping
about as sentinel on guard, and not disposed to take
a severe view of our delinquency. On the return of
the long train of boys from church, Turnbull and I were
able to give a correct answer to the question that had
puzzled us, and were graciously dismissed. I think
Sloane was a little ashamed of the affair. He had acted
under one of his ungovernable outbursts of temper.
Keeping boys from church was certainly original in the
way of penal discipline.
Laying aside any consideration of the elementary
branches and the classics, the amount of instruction
at the schools at Peebles 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 — a fact not very creditable either
to the teachers or the inhabitants. There was, how-
ever, nothing singular in this deficiency. As yet, not-
Avithstanding the number of burgh and parish schools,
there was a general meagreness in the routine of educa-
tion throughout the country. The people had not
awakened to the advantages to be derived from a
knowledge of the higher branches of instruction. Pos-
sibly, I have said more than enough of my school
remembrances ; and I finish with stating that my
ROBERTS SCHOOL EXPERIENCES. 49
entire education, which terminated when I was thirteen
years of age, cost, books included, somewhere about
six pounds. So little was taught, 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 at Neidpath, and in
angling excursions to Manor Water.
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.
In the notes left by my brother, he corroborates
my reminiscences of the school discipline at Peebles,
but as feeling much indebted to Mr Sloane's instructions,
he refrains from specifying incidents such as came
under my notice. Robert gives the following account
of his early school-days.
* 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
50 MEMOIR.
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 Barrie's Collection, and to spell
words. No attempt was made to enlighten us as to the
meaning of any of the lessons. It was a strange, rough,
noisy, crowded scene this burgh school. No refine-
ment 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. 5»
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
52
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, 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. 53
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 ^neidos of Vm^l,
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
54 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 Encydopczdia 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. 55
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 other^vise
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 tlie Encyclopccdia,
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
56 MEMOIR.
heart, whatever may be the judgment of modem 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 Sloane 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
THE OLD GLOBES. 57
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 Elder's library in the
little old burgh.
My brother and I had another source of self-education
when we were boys, on which it is agreeable to reflect.
The schools we attended, as has been said, were devoid
of maps, and no instruction whatsoever was given on
physical geography. Nor did the parents of the pupils
seem to make any complaint on the subject. By a
fortunate circumstance Robert and I were able to make
up for the deficiency. When I was about ten years of
age, Mr Oman, an old and retired keeper of a boarding-
school, died. He had, in his day, been a good teacher,
with enlarged scientific views, and left no successor of a
like quality in the town. At his decease, his effects were
sold off by auction. Among other articles offered to
public competition were a pair of school-globes, twelve
inches in diameter, which my father was lucky in
securing for the modest sum of five shillings.
I can remember the delight with which the globes
were received in the family circle, and exhibited on a
table for general admiration. Old and dingy in the
colours, they had not the polished sprightly look of
modem globes, but when cleaned and brushed up, no
fault was found with them. We did not even care
much about a severe injury that had been sustained
by the terrestrial globe, consisting of a hole the size
of a crown-piece in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean.
There were, like\vise, shortcomings on the score of
recent discoveries. Of Australia, tliere were only a few
fragmentary outlines, with large intervening spaces,
58 MEMOIR.
marked 'unknown country.' It was satisfactory, how-
ever, to see the track of Columbus in his discovery
of America, and the routes respectively pursued by
Anson and Cook in their memorable circumnaviga-
tions.
Robert and I flew with avidity on these poor old
globes. By poring over them, we learned how to find
out the latitude of places, to comprehend the signs of
the zodiac and their relative positions, and to attain a
correct idea of the ecliptic or great circle in the heavens,
round which the sun seems to travel in the course of a
year. From the celestial sphere, that had been less
injured, we gained a knowledge of the constellations
and situation of the principal fixed stars, of which, along
with the planetary bodies, we had already received some
information from my father in his observations with the
telescope. Mostly engaged at school during the day,
we occupied ourselves in a study of the two globes early
in the morning, or in the evening when candles were
lighted in the parlour. My mother was glad to see us
interested in these recreations, instead of rambling idly
about the street at night, and suggested that we should
begin to fix the leading facts in geography and astron-
omy in our minds, by means of notes. The advice was
taken. Having no money wherewith to buy paper, I
was permitted to make a note-book from a number
of blank leaves torn from an old ledger. To give the
little book a decent exterior, I covered it with strips of
marble paper pasted together, that Elder had pared off in
his binding operations, and which he kindly allowed me
to carry home. The note-book so formed was somewhat
miscellaneous in contents, for we wrote doAvn all sorts
of useful facts that came in our way — an exercise in
RECRUITING FOR THE MILITIA. 59
composition, if nothing else, and which could scarcely
fail to be beneficial in connection with the subsequent
duties of Hfe.
Passing from these reminiscences of boyish days,
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 extinction,
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 business, my
father bethought himself of commencing as a draper.
For this purpose, he alienated the small property in
which my brother and I were bom, 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 per-
haps have gone on pretty well, but for one untoward
circumstance, shortly to be mentioned.
At this period — 180S to 18 12 — the country at large
was in the heat of the French war. My reminiscences
bring up the picture of universal soldiering, marching
to and fro of regiments, drums beating, colours flying,
news of victories, and general illuminations. There
was an active demand for recruits for the regular army,
6o MEMOIR.
and hardly less eagerness in procuring men to fill up
the militia regiments. Of various regiments of this
class stationed at Peebles I have some interesting
recollections. The officers gave an intellectual fillip to
the place. Some of them were good artists. Others
brought with them books of a superior class, about
which they conversed in the houses they visited. They
received London newspapers, which were prized for
their original and copious news of the war, also for
comments on public affairs not to be found in the
timid provincial press of that day. The militia officers
were still more popular in making the natives acquainted
with Enghsh outdoor sports, until then unknown. I
first saw cricket played by officers of the Cambridge-
shire militia on the green margin of the Tweed-
Melodies, which few had heard of, were introduced
at private evening parties. Some of these I listened
to with ravished ears — one in particular, the charming
air, Cease your Funning, which was exquisitely played
on the octave flute by Carnaby, a young and accom-
plished officer in the Ross-shire militia. In wakeful
nights, even at this long-distant time, I think of Carnaby
and his flute.
The militia, as is well known, consisted of men
drawn by ballot — a kind of modified conscription; for
substitutes were accepted. By paying a small sum
annually to an insurance club, a substitute was provided
from the general fund. In the fiercest period of the
war, the pressure for substitutes grew intense. The
bounty to be dispensed for one was occasionally as
large, if not larger than the bounty paid by government
for enlisting into the army. On a particular occasion,
I knew of fifty pounds being given for a substitute.
SANDY NOBLE. 6l
There were some interesting circumstances which
impressed it on my recollection.
A substitute was in urgent demand. Advertisements
were issued. Nobody would go. Thirty pounds were
offered. Forty pounds were offered. At length the
offer rose to fifty. A poor man of middle age pre-
sented himself. Sandy Noble, for .such was the name
of this true-hearted person, was by trade a cotton-
weaver. He was a widower, with a grown-up family,
but they had left him to pursue their own course in
life ; so he was in a sense alone in the world. The
wages realised by his peculiar species of labour had
materially declined, and he was now only able to make
both ends meet. Not even that. He had become
responsible for a number of petty debts, caused by the
long and expensive illness of his lately deceased wife.
These debts hung round his neck like a millstone.
The thought of never being able to liquidate them
was acutely distressing.
One day, as he sat on his loom, meditating on the
state of his affairs, a neighbour came in to announce
the intelligence that fifty pounds had just been offered
for a substitute. Making no remark on this piece of
news, Sandy, when alone, took a slate, and calculated
that fifty pounds would clear him. His mind was
instantly made up. For two days and a night he
worked with desperation to finish the web he was
engaged upon. Having executed his task, and settled
with my father, his employer, he walked off to the
secretary of the insurance club, and coming in the nick
of time, was thankfully accepted as the required substi-
tute. The militia authorities were in a fume at the
delay, and a sergeant had been despatched to bring
62 MEMOIR.
the man who had been balloted for, otherwise he
would be treated as a deserter. As the recognised
substitute, Sandy, in a few quiet words, pacified the
sergeant. * Just gie me half an hour,' said he, ' and
I '11 be ready to gang wi' ye.* The half-hour was given,
and devoted to a noble act of integrity, such as, we
fear, is rarely presented in matters of this nature. With
the fifty pounds in his pocket, Sandy went from one
end of the town to the other, paying debt after debt
as he went along — fifteen and sixpence to one, three
pounds eleven and threepence to another, and so on,
not leaving a single shilling undischarged. When all
was over, he mounted a small bundle on the end of
a stick, and, in a calm, self-satisfied mood, he trudged
away with the sergeant to headquarters. The name
of Sandy Noble deserves to go do^vn in the roll of
honour with many of greater distinction.
The war, as we see, with its innumerable horrors,
was not all bad. It evoked endurance, courage, man-
liness, a disposition to make a sacrifice of even life
itself for the public good. To take the obscure inci-
dent just recorded, there was a grandeur in the honesty
and disinterestedness of Sandy Noble, that gives dignity
to human nature. The very knowledge that there was
such a true-hearted being in humble life is gratifying,
though, no doubt, many similar cases could be men-
tioned.
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,
however, than twenty or thirty of these exiles arrived
at this early period. They were mostly Dutch and
PRISO?^ERS OF WAR. 63
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. Two or three years later came
a detenu of a different class. He was seemingly the
captain of a ship from the French West Indies, who
brought with him his wife and a negro servant-boy
named Jack. Black Jack, as we called him, was sent
to the school, where he played with the other boys on
the town green, and at length read and spoke like a
native. He was a good-natured creature, and became a
general favourite. Jack was the first pure negro whom
the boys at that time had ever seen.
None of these classes of prisoners broke his parole,
nor ever gave any trouble to the authorities. They had
not, indeed, any appearance of being prisoners, for they
were practically free to live and ramble about, within
reasonable bounds, where they liked. In 18 10, there
was a large accession to this original body of prisoners
on parole, to whom I must specially refer.
Memory carries me back to a particular Sunday evening.
Having gone through the day in a perfectly constitu-
tional manner, the inhabitants of the town felt that,
towards evening, they might, in a mild and quiet way,
indulge in a little recreation — not amusement by any
means, only a smell of the fresh air. All depended on
slowness and quietness. Anything like laughing, whistling,
singing, walking hurriedly, or boisterous behaviour, was
64 MEMOIR.
proscribed. You might do almost what you liked, pro-
vided it was done slowly and quietly, as if you were
not doing it. The impropriety consisted in making a
noise.
On Sunday evenings, from the proceedings of the
day, everything was agreeably calmed down to an
unchallengeable quietude. People who had gardens
walked out quietly — if by back-doors so much the
better — and with their hands in their pockets made
their observations quietly on the growth of the cab-
bages and gooseberries. Others took a sauntering
sort of walk quietly to the river, and in a manner
not to provoke discussion, spoke of the prospects
of fishing for the season ; perhaps introducing a some-
what playful anecdote about catching a salmon, but
always in a subdued tone of voice, and never venturing
beyond a smile. Some took a fancy for going a little
more afield, and leaning over gateways, made remarks
quietly on the crops, and threw out speculations as to
the probable price of meal and potatoes after next
harvest. A number, otherwise bent, took a fancy for
visiting the churchyard, where an hour was quietly and
pleasantly spent in making observations on 'the poor
inhabitant below,' in the respective newly made graves.
To all this there may be fault-finders. As long as
human nature is what it is, I can imagine nothing more
decorous or reverential than these modest and leisurely
Sunday evening musings.
My father had no garden to speak of. His tastes did
not lie in that direction. At all odd hours he fastened
on books, reviews, and newspapers. The only news-
paper of which I have any familiar remembrance at this
early period, was The Edinburgh Star. It was a twice-
A SUNDA Y EVENING. 6$
a-week journal, and, as things went, had a good circula-
tion. My father could not aftbrd to subscribe for The
Star. All he could do was to be a member of a club
to take in the paper, which was handed about to one
after the otlier, each member being allowed to have
it in turn for a certain number of hours. Such, in the
days of taxed and dear newspapers, was an almost
universal practice, and in our community it was no way
singular.
By some chance, which I am unable to explain,
my father's tenure of the Friday's Star began on
Sunday evening, at six o'clock, when the natives gener-
ally were out on their quietly sauntering perambula-
tions. For three days he had heard nothing satisfac-
tory of the war, and in his anxiety had watched the
face of the alabaster timepiece on the wall of our little
parlour, to see when the paper could with propriety
be sent for. The hands on the dial having at length
pointed to a quarter to six, I am requested to go for
The Star. At the time, I am seated at a window
trying to commit to memory that Scripture paraphrase
of matchless beauty, which my mother prescribed to me
as a study :
' Few arc thy days, and full of woe,
O man, of woman born.'
Laying the book aside, I obey the command to go
for The Star, and, on the whole, being glad to get into
tlie open air, I hurry off with a leather cap on my
head, and a crisply plaited frill down my back, in quest
of the paper. I knew all about the mission, for it was
not the first time I had been so employed.
The person to whom I was sent was a respectable
66 MEMOIR.
candlemaker — his surname of no consequence. He
was a short, stoutish man, who filled the office of
Dean of Guild, which contributed to give him a certain
dignified position in the town. Ordinarily, however, he
was best known as ' Candle Andrew.' As a bachelor,
though advanced in life, Andrew lived with his sister,
who acted as housekeeper and shopwoman, and was
usually, as already mentioned, called ' Candle Nell.*
It was altogether a successful arrangement. The brother
and sister made no sort of show. The business was
conducted cheaply and quietly.
On the present occasion, being Sunday, the shop
was shut, and entrance to the premises was by a side-
door, the first on the right-hand in going down the
close as you went to the candle-work. To that door
I proceeded. It was opened by Nell, and I was
ushered into the kitchen until she announced the object
of my visit. All was quiet and decorous. I was invited
to step into the room. Here sat Candle Andrew in
his Sunday's best, with an under red-silk waistcoat, and
his bald head lightly powdered. Before him, lay a
large open folio volume of Matthew Henry's Bible,
covering nearly the whole table. Above it, and just
about the same size, lay The Star. Candle Andrew,
whom I esteemed to be a great man, as Dean of Guild,
with his powdered head and red under-waistcoat, was
so kind as speak to me, and what he said (while folding
up the newspaper) was momentous. ' Great news, Willie,
my man — terrible battles in Spain — thousands o' French
prisoners — a number o' them brought to Leith, and I
shouldn't wonder if some were sent here. However,
there's The Star ; and please to give my compliments
to your mother.' Little did I think that what Candle
FRESH ARRIVAL OF FRENCH PRISONERS. 67
Andrew had hinted at, was destined to shape the whole
existence of my brother and myself, indeed the whole
family, father and motlier included.
Inspired by the notion that there was something
important in the intelligence, I hastened home, but
before I arrived, my father had received a glimmering
of the news. A neighbour had called to say that there
was to be immediately a great accession to the present
French prisoners of war on parole. As many as a
hundred and eleven were already on their way to the
town, and might be expected in perhaps a day or two.
There was speedily a vast sensation in the place. The
local militia had been disbanded. Lodgings of all sorts
were vacant The new arrivals would on all hands be
heartily welcomed. On Tuesday, the expected French
prisoners in an unceremonious way began to drop in.
As one of several boys, I went out to meet these new
prisoners of war on the road from Edinburgh. They
came walking in twos and threes — a itw of them lame.
Their appearance was startling, for they were in military
garb, in which they had been captured in Spain. Some
were in light blue hussar dresses, braided, with marks
of sabre-wounds. Others were in dark-blue uniform.
Several wore large cocked-hats, but the greater number
had undress caps. All had a gentlemanly air, notwith-
standing their generally dishevelled attire, their soiled
boots, and their visible marks of fatigue. 13cfore night,
they had all arrived ; and through the activity of the
agent appointed by the Transport Board, they had been
provided with lodgings suitable to their slender allowance.
This large batch of prisoners on parole were, of
course, all in the rank of naval or military officers.
Some had been pretty high in the service, and seen a
68 MEMOIR.
good deal of fighting. Several were doctors, or, as they
called themselves, officiers de saute. Among the whole
there were, I tliink, about a dozen midshipmen. A strange
thing was their varied nationality. Though spoken of
as French, there was in the party a mixture of Italians,
Swiss, and Poles ; but this we found out only after some
intercourse. Whatever their origin, they were warm
adherents of Napoleon, whose glory at this time was at
its height. Lively in manner, their minds were full of
the recent struggles in the Peninsula.
Through the considerateness of an enterprising grocer,
the prisoners were provided with a billiard-table, at which
they spent much of their time. So far well. But how did
these unfortunate exiles contrive to live — how did they
manage to feed and clothe themselves, and pay for
lodgings ? Thereby hangs a tale, which we will by-and-
by come to. The allowance from government was on a
moderate scale. I doubt if it was more than a shilling a
head per diem. In various instances two persons lived
in a single room, but even that cost at least half-a-crown
a week, which made a considerable inroad on revenue.
The truth is, they must have been half-starved, but for
the fortunate circumstance of a number of them having
brought money — foreign gold pieces — concealed about
their person, which stores were supplemented by remit-
tances from France ; and in a friendly way, at least as
regards the daily mess, or table d'Mte, the richer helped
the poorer, which was a good trait in their character.
The messing together was the grand resource, and took
place in a house hired for the purpose, in which the
cookery was conducted under the auspices of M.
Lavoche, one of the prisoners, who, as is not unusual
with Frenchmen, was skilled in cuisine. My brother
THE FRENCHMEN'S THEATRE. 69
and I had some dealings with Lavoche. We cultivated
rabbits in a hutch built by ourselves in a back-yard, and
sold them for the Frenchmen's mess ; the money got for
them, usually eightpence a pair, being employed in the
purchase of books.
Billiards were indispensable, but something more was
wanted. Without a theatre, life was felt to be unendur-
able. But how was a theatre to be secured? There
was nothing of the kind in the place. The more eager
of the prisoners managed to get out of the difficulty.
There was an old and disused ballroom. It was rather
of confined dimensions, and low in the roof, with a
gallery at one end, over the entrance, for the musi-
cians. In the days of yore, however, what scenes of
gaiety had it not witnessed 1 Walter Scott's mother,
when a girl, I was told, had crossed Minchmoor, a
dangerously high hill, in a chaise from the adjacent
county, to dance for a night in that little old ballroom.
Now set aside as unfashionable, the room was at
anybody's service, and came quite handily to the
Frenchmen. They fitted it with a stage at the inner
end, and cross-benches to accommodate a hundred
and twenty persons, independently of perhaps twenty
more in the musicians' gallery. The thing was neatly
got up, with scenery painted by M. Walther and M.
Ragulski, the latter a young Pole with artistic tastes.
No licence was required for the theatre, for it was
altogether a private undertaking. Money was not
taken at the door, and no tickets were sold. Admis-
sion was gained by complimentary billets, distributed
chietly among persons with whom the actors had estab-
lished an intimacy.
Among these favoured individuals was my father, who,
70 MEMOIR.
carrying on a mercantile concern, occupied a prominent
position. lie felt a degree of compassion for these
foreigners, constrained to live in exile, and besides
welcoming them to his house, gave them credit in
articles of drapery of which they stood in need; and
through which circumstance they soon assumed an
improved appearance in costume. Introduced to the
family circle, their society was agreeable and in a
sense instructive. Though with imperfect speech, a
sort of half-French, half-English, they related inter-
esting circumstances in their career. Robert and I,
desperately keen to learn, but with poor opportunities
of doing so, listened with greedy ears to the discourse
of the Frenchmen, which had the double advantage
of increasing our stock of facts and improving us in
the knowledge of the French tongue.
How performances in French should have had any
general attraction may seem to require explanation.
There had grown up in the town, among young
persons especially, a knowledge of familiar French
phrases ; so that what was said, accompanied with
appropriate gestures, was pretty well guessed at. But,
as greatly contributing to remove difficulties, a worthy
man of an obliging turn, and genial humour, volun-
teered to act as interpreter. Moving in humble cir-
cumstances as a hand-loom weaver, he had let lodg-
ings to the French captain and his wdfe, and from being
for years in domestic intercourse with them, he became
well acquainted with their language. William Hunter —
for such was his name — besides being of ready wit,
partook of a lively musical genius. I have heard him
sing Malbrouk s'en va-t-en guerre, with amazing correct-
ness and vivacity. His services at the theatre were
WILLIAM HUNTER. 71
therefore of value to the natives in attendance. Seated
conspicuously at the centre of what we may call the
pit, eyes were turned to him inquiringly when any-
thing particularly funny was said that needed explana-
tion, and for general use, he whisperingly communi-
cated the requisite interpretation. So put up to the joke,
the natives heartily joined in the laugh, though rather
tardily. Dear old William Hunter, with his ready demon-
strations of Scottish humour, how my brother and I in
later years regretted his loss ! As for the French plays,
which were performed with perfect propriety, they were
to us not only amusing but educational. Life, to be
worth anything, is made up of happy recollections. The
remembrance of these dramatic efforts of the French
prisoners of war has been through life a continual treat.
It is curious for me to look back on the performance of
pieces of Moli^re, in circumstances so very remarkable.
My mother, even while lending her dresses and caps to
enable performers to represent female characters, never
liked the extraordinary 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, by
the resources just mentioned, they paid wonderfully well.
With such solid inducements, 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
72 MEMOIR.
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.
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
REMOVAL TO EDINBURGH. 73
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.
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 rcinvigorated, 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.
CHAPTER III.
SETTLING IN EDINBURGH — 1813-1814.
"CpAMILIES falling by misfortune into straitened
•*- circumstances, of course lose many old friends
and acquaintances, at least as far as familiar personal
intercourse is concerned. This loss, though often the
subject of sorrowful and angry remark, is not an unmiti-
gated evil. Sympathy is doubtless due throughout all
perplexing social distinctions; gracious are the acts of
a true friend ; kindness to the unfortunate will ever
command approbation ; but let us not forget that it is
better for personal intimacies to suffer some modification,
than for the impoverished to lose self-respect and
become dependent on a system of habitual condescen-
sion. It seems hard to take this view of the matter,
but I fear that on no other basis can the indigent
aspire to be the associates of the affluent. Could
matters be seen rightly, they would appear to be as well
ordered in this as in other things which concern our
welfare.
Happily, the defection, real or apparent, of old friends
is not uncompensated. Sinking into a lower sphere, a
new and hitherto undiscovered region is disclosed. A
higher class, as we are apt to feel, has cruelly turned
SETTLING IN EDINBURGH. 75
its back on us ; but we are received with open arms by
a very good and agreeable sort of people, in whose
moderate incomes, and, it may be, misfortunes and
struggles, we feel the pleasures of fellowship. The
Vicar of Wakefield, it will be recollected, did not find
the jail such a bad thing after all.
My parents, on settling in Edinburgh, may be pre-
sumed to have found consolations of this nature.
According to immemorial usage, families with limited
means from the southern counties of Scotland, who seek
a home in the capital, sagaciously pitch on one of the
second-rate streets in the southern suburbs. There,
sprinkled about in common stairs, they form a kind of
colony, possessing a community of south-country recol-
lections and gossip.
Following the established rule, our first home was a
floor entering from a common stair in West Nicolson
Street. Beneath us, level with the ground, resided a poor
widow, who drew a scanty living from a small huxtery
concern. Immediately above us dwelt the widow of a
Roxburghshire clergyman, a motherly person, with two
grown-up daughters. Over this respectable family, and
highest of all, was a tailor, who, working in the window-
sole of his apartment, had the reputation of doing things
cheaply. On a level with us, next tenement, but enter-
ing by a different stair, was a family of some distinction,
consisting of the two ladies. Miss Betty and Miss Ailie
Hay, already spoken of by my brother. The kitchen
fireplaces of both dwellings being back to back, with a
thin and imperfect wall between, the servant-girls of
the two families, both exiles from Tweedside, were able
to carry on comforting conversations by removing a
brick at pleasure in the chimney ; through which
76 MEMOIR.
irregular channel much varied intelligence from Peebles-
shire was interchanged 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 was situated a little old building that
had been Walter Scott's first school in Edinburgh —
since removed in the course of city improvements.
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. 77
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-
wbrthy; but others, accustomed to go on the tramp,
used artifices that bafiled 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
V
78 MEMOIR.
hospitals, and their daughters taught to be governesses.
Teachers in the decHne of hfe, 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. 79
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
8o MEMOIR.
with the performances of the organ and choir, he
became a frequent attender on the ministrations of
Mr AHson, 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. 8i
auctioneers, their observations on books and authors,
and the competitions in the biddings, were all inter-
esting to a lad fresh from the countiy. 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 GooUsmith, 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 liim
82 MEMOIR.
into a rage, and he would indignantly call out:
* Tippence, man ; keep that for the brode^ 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 'WuUy,' 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 BOY WANTED. %t,
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 tliese 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
84 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 18 I 9.
T T 0\V 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 1
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
86 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
MV APrJ7ENT/C£SmF—iSi4 to 1S19. 87
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 18 14, I was
launched into the business world.
In August the following year, the family quitted
Edinburgh. In his desperation, my father accepted the
situation of commercial 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 arrange-
ment being that he should walk to and from town
daily. I was left to pursue my business, being for this
puq^ose 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, 1 resolved at all hazards to
make the weekly four shillings serve for everything. I
cannot remember entertaining the slightest despondency
on the subject. But what may not any one with the
88 MEMOIR.
buoyancy of youth dare to encounter ? Inspired by my
mother's advices, animated by her noble example of un-
complaining meekness, all difficulties were overlooked.
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 tvvo 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. 89
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.
* Weal, 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.
' 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 ? '
' 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
90 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 Scodand 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
LIFE IN THE WEST PORT. 91
degree amusing. As a final achievement in the art
of cheap Hving, 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.
If any one is so complimentary as to think that I had
some merit in 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, on which day I was at home ;
so that, after all, the one-and-ninepence weekly inferred
as much as threepence-halfpenny a day. How it
was practicable to subsist on a sum apparently so
diminutive, is only to be explained by two things — a
resolute abstinence from all articles of luxury, and a
union for eating purposes among the different members
in the establishment. On tea, coffee, sugar, and
some other articles of ordinary consumption, not a
farthing was expended. I did not even attempt to
buy new milk. My landlady had her own notions
regarding food. As some consolation for plain-
ness of fare, she declared, that ' eating is just a use,'
meaning that you may accustom yourself to, and be
satisfied with, anything. She thought it wasteful and
ridiculous to consult the palate. It came all to the same
thing, after the food got through the mouth. An
excellent philosophy this for those who, like myself,
had to consult the spending capacity of threepence-half-
penny on daily subsistence.
The practice of the little woman was as admirable as
92 MEMOIR.
her reasoning. She was the general caterer, an office to
which she did great justice. Tlie principal reliance was
on oatmeal, of which, at the cheapest shops, she bought
for each lodger a peck at a time. With a row of bags
ranged on the table, she drew a handful from each
corresponding to the quantity of porridge required ; so
that every one got his due. For her own share, she
had that amount of the mess which adhered to the
inside of the pot. The only liquid relish taken with the
porridge was butter-milk, purchased in large quantities
from farmers' carts weekly, and divided with the same
scrupulous accuracy. Sometimes the fluid became more
acrid than was at all pleasant, but this was partly
remedied by a process of beating up, which had a
modifying effect that would require some chemistry
to explain. Good or bad, the choice lay betwixt it
and nothing. Such was the staple — porridge with this
species of milk, for breakfast and supper. As for
dinner, a single pound of meat boiled in an immense
quantity of water, with a profusion of barley and vege-
tables, and allocated according to pecuniary contribution,
answered the purpose, along with a piece of bread.
There was the whole affair. My daily expenditure, like
that of most of the lodgers, stood thus :
Breakfast — porridge, three farthings ; butter -milk, one
farthing £q o i
Dinner— broth, three farthings; bread, three farthings... o o \\
Supper, same as breakfast o o I
;^o o 3^
Our landlady had a high opinion of the filling
qualities of broth, usually spoken of as kail, and only at
odd times prepared a dinner for us of salt fish, or some-
thing equally cheap. That the dietetic arrangements
LTFE IN THE WEST PORT.
93
occasionally failed to avert the sensation of a certain
internal vacuum, I may not deny. Sometimes, in the
course of my long walks, I acknowledge to having
felt a little hungry, and perhaps also to having looked
too wistfully at the contents of the bakers' windows.
But on the whole, I suftered no injury to health, and
made the best of circumstances which, by involving
the inventive faculty, kept the mind wholesomely on the
alert. It is something to have practically realised the
pleasures and advantages of the temperance so highly
recommended by the famed Louis Cornaro.
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 '
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
C
94 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 kno^^^l to young men of my
own standing, was a point in my favour.
It nevertheless, I o^vn, 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 STATE LO TTER V. 95
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 inconsiderately treated, 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 nu'n.
It was my safest course to submit. Over the doorway
of an old house in tho West Bow, which I passed
96 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.' — ^neid, v.
THE SANCTUARY OF HOLYROOD. 97
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, wlio
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 j^arcels
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
frecjuent 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, anil in the Old
Tolbooth, renowned as the ' Heart of Mid-Lothian,'
were less munificent, but considerably more hearty in
tlicir intercourse. Tlie greater number of them were
98 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 Revieiuers :
' 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 TOLBOOTII. 99
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, whicli 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. Fbced 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 1 visited in
loo 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
VVest-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 fomiliarised 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. loi
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 jnesent
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 ; 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 lied 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
102 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 accom[)lishments, and his poverty,
to be an acceptable guest of the West-Enders. The
Tolbooth was his home by choice. He lived in it for
DA VIE. ,03
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 fiictotum —
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 calcli a glimpse of who was at the jiorlal
I04 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 420! Regiment
as it marches 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 tlie Tolbooth, tliere 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 TO LB 00 TIL 105
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 defiled cnmibs 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
io6 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 comer 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 do\vn 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 7:9 A T SELF-INSTRUCTION. 107
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 will, 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 tlie
French prisoners of war at Peebles. I likewise dii)ped
into several books of solid worth — such as Smith's
Wealth of Nations, Locke's Human Understanding,
Paley's Moral FJiilosophy, and Blair's Bellcs-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.
io8 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 wliat 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 LITER ARY BAKER. 109
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 the jocularities oi Roderick Random,
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
no MEMOIR.
Gil Bias ; the tricks and grotesque rogueries in this
last-mentioned work of fiction giving the baker and his
two sons unquaUfied 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 182 1. 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. m
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
112 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 kno\vn 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; 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 Tytier, 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. 113
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 saulie 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
114 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 confidendy 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 siuface 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 gumtler-men ; such being a corruption of gonfalonier,
the bearer of a gonfalon, or standard, in old ceremonial processions.
ELECTRICAL EXPERIMENTS. 115
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 witli 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. I have already men-
tioned that I was at home on Sunday. Through the week,
I toiled at my proper duties. On the Sabbath, I was an
Ii6 MEMOIR.
independent being ; and to this day of rest I habitually
looked forward, not only as an interval of repose, but
for the opportunity it afforded of seeing and holding
converse with my mother, betwixt whom and myself
there was an attachment which has been the solace of
my existence. Nothing was allowed to detain me in town.
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, accompanied 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.
SABBA TH-DA Y MUSINGS. \ 1 7
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
u8 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
wth 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 baud 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
PATERNAL DISQUISITIONS. 119
endeavoured to impress on rae 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 : I
from door to door. There might be suffering and 1
humiliation in the meantime ; but I would be daily 1
gaining experience, and, with prudence, accumulating I
means. If I behaved myself properly, a few years I
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 — and strictly speaking, he was right
Seated in his arm-chair at the Pans, with two or three
of us about him, he would discourse in a pleasant way,
mingling anecdote \vith philosophy — the purport of tlie
whole being that I should continue to cultivate a spirit
of independence, to learn to act and think for myself,
and, in short, to be thankful that nothing was done
for me.
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 suff"ered a species of ignominious banishment
Among the near neighbours were a few excise-ofiiccrs
set to watch over the works and give permits to pur-
chasers. One of these officials was a Mr Stobie, in
I20 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 last 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 DISASTER. 1 2 1
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, gready 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 windfLill 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
£22 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.'
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.
124 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 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-comer, 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
MACKA TS A CADE MY. 125
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 con-
stitution. Besides studying these classics, he took a
fancy for the metamorphoses and fluent versification of
Ovid, and was entranced ^vith the story-telling power of
Livy, the most illustrious of the Roman historians. In
Greek he made only a small progress.
At this time he began to compose verses both in
English and Latin, a kind of exercise which, not
being required in the routine of study, was altogether
a work of supererogation. The taste for Latin versifi-
cation was due to a somewhat strange cause. Con-
ceiving an enthusiasm for Ovid's poetical theories of
the metempsychosis, he endeavoured to emulate the
original by writing verses similarly fanciful ; and not
only so, but he fervently embraced the principle of the
Pythagoreans, as regards the impropriety of using animal
food — a principle very unnecessary to insist upon while
residing in our West Port lodgings. The notion was, of
course, a boyish freak, which in due time wore off; but
that he entertained it at school with the vehemence of
I
126 MEMOIR.
an ancient disciple of Pythagoras, indicates the intensity
of his early convictions. In his efforts at Latin versi-
fication in the Ovidian style, he was sorely hampered by
the want of books of reference, to which his better
provided companions had access. He was in particular
put to considerable straits for want of an English-Latin
dictionary, in order to ascertain the best Latin equiva-
lents for certain words in his own language. The
difficulty was in a degree ingeniously got over by visiting
a book-stall, on which conveniently lay for sale a copy
of Ainsworth's dictionary. This, without challenge, he
continued to consult several times a day, and was
delighted to find the Latin words he stood in need of.
From the benefit derived by these investigations he in
after-years never saw the stall-keeper without feeling
how much he was indebted to him for the use of his
Ainsworth.
With all this plodding industry, Robert found time to
indulge in another kind of explorations. Ever since
his arrival in Edinburgh, and without suggestion from
any one, he had taken a pleasure in examining, at fitting
times, what was ancient and historically 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 difterent 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 PURSUITS. 127
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.
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 purpose
of door-knockers ; and extending the scoi)e 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 stiaiglit,
Pitched deeply in a massive stone.
Which still in memory is she^vn,
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
Grcyfriars Churchyard on which, in 1638, was signed
the National Covenant ; the adjoining enclosure, in
128 MEMOIR.
which, for a time, was pent up, like cattle, the crowd of
prisoners taken at the battle of Bothwell Bridge; the
closed-up postern of the castle surmounting the pre-
cipitous rocks up which Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee,
clambered to 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 attendance 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 to
their age, his recreations had in them all something of
the nature of instruction. And such were his extra-
ordinary 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
condemned and executed in 1670, and whose house in
LEGEND A R Y STORIES. 1 29
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 ; — 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.
By these varied means in his early youth, in the midst
of difficulties, Robert laid the foundation of much that
was afterwards of value 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 shilHngs a week. It was
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
I30 MEMOIR.
very narrow disposition, partly the result of poverty. I
used to be in great distress for want of fire. I could
not afibrd 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.'
Such is a fair account of the termination of Robert's
educational career. It can be supplemented from my
own recollections, as well as from some memoranda
which he wrote regarding this early period. When,
DARKENING PROSPECTS. 131
after a due preparation at the academy of Mr ISIackay
(whose kindness was ever gratefully remembered by
my brother), the time came for attending the univer-
sity, for which a bursary had been vaguely antici-
pated, expectations of the bursary came to naught,
and all pecuniary means were now in a state of lament-
able exhaustion. Yet, to the last, Robert was buoyed
up with a hope that he would somehow be advanced to
the Humanity class in the college. His awakening from
this fond dream was correspondingly disapi)ointing.
The way in which, as an enthusiastic scholar, he was
restrained by poverty from going through a university
course is painfully depicted :
'Till the college opened, it was fully intended that I
should go to it ; and accordingly, when the day arrived, I
proceeded to that illustrious seminary of learning, along
with other boys who ranked with me at Mackay's, and
was present at the inaugural meeting of the Humanity
class for the season. The fees, however, were found an
insurmountable difficulty; and with feelings I shall not
ailcmpt to describe, I was obliged to turn back from a
course in which I saw so many of my companions about
to start, with every advantage in their favour, though I
was sensible that hardly any of them cared so much for
the pleasure of the race, or w^as so ambitious of its
eventual honours as myself.' Continuing for a short time
at the academy, he adds: 'At length, in the month of
April or May 1S16, I (quitted school for ever, my
parents having perceived that, since I was not to go
forward in a learned ])rofessional career, it was neces-
sary that 1 should ai)ply decidedly and inmiediately to
something else.'
At this sad downcome, there was mourning over the
132 MEMOIR.
ruin of long-cherished hopes; and yet the circumstance
ought in reahty to have been a cause for rejoicing. I
greatly doubt if my brother would, according 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
gready 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. Sometimes wandering about with a
sense of desolation, he abandoned himself to an agony
of grief and despair.
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 icw weeks he filled a similar
A CRITICAL MOMENT IN LIFE. 133
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 fur
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 afiliction.' 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, healtli,
134 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 oftered for
sale, they might, as I imagined, form the foundation on
ROBERT BEGINS AS A BOOKSELLER. 135
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 18 18, 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 clays, which were
like yours in point of hardship and humiliation, tliough
different in many important circumstances. My being
of the same age with you, to exactly a cjuarter of a year,
136 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 Eficyclo-
pcedia 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, difl'ering
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
ROBERT BEGINS AS A BOOKSELLER. 137
Inverness. Some of your expressions there bring all
my own early feelings again to life. A disparity
betAveen 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 whicli 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
138 MEMOIR.
unpretending place of business was opposite Pilng
Avenue. Here he may be said to have set up house,
for, provided with a few articles of furniture, and exer-
cising a rigorous frugality, he proposed to live in his
very limited establishment. To keep him company,
and aid by my professional advice, as well as lessen his
expenses, I went to reside with him — quitting, with my
blue painted box, my quarters in the West Port, for
which I entertained no special attachment. Unless for
the pleasure of associating with my brother, and talking
over our plans, the change did not immediately bring
any assuagement of condition. So miserably was the
place furnished, that the first night we had no bed, but ■
lay on the floor, with a rug for covering, and a bundle
of books for pillow. Afterwards, a bed stuffed with
chaff made things a little easier, and, rolled up during
the day, the bed with its rug answered as a convenient
sofa. Rather a hard kind of life this ! In one sense it
was so, but I cannot remember ever caring much about
the hardship. The whole affair was treated as an
amusing adventure. The very shifts we were put to
had in them something to laugh at. There was likewise
an undefined but comforting feeling that by endurance
matters would mend, and so with modest trust, as
yielding to our lot, we cheerfully submitted to present
privations. The time was near at hand when I should
more than ever have to exercise a thoughtful degree of
self-reliance.
CHAPTER VI.
MY OWN COMMENCEMENT IN BUSINESS — 1819 TO l82t.
T ATE on a Saturday evening in May 181 9, 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 indei)en(lcnce, 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 ?
140 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 ray
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 teUing what may be
generally known.
LETTH WALK. 141
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 newsjmper, 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 oft'ercd 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 tnimpery character. At the time
I became acquainted with the Walk, it owned few
edifices that were much wortla. Here and there, with
J
142 MEMOIR.
intervening patches of nursery-grounds and gardens,
there was a detached villa or a row of houses with
flower-plots in front. 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 incon-
venient, which do not find inhabitants, these frail tene-
ments 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, and at first, as has been said, scarcely a bed to
lie on. In 1819, Robert had to quit, in consequence of
the proprietor making repairs on the row of buildings,
and he removed farther down the Walk, to the street-
floor of a pile of buildings of a superior class, with
families of a respectable kind dwelling in the floors
above.
The alterations on Giles's Buildings, as they were
called, which Robert had quitted, were just completed
when I stood in need of some place where I could make
my first venture in business. Such a place I found
almost on the spot my brother had vacated. It was on
the east side of the Walk, immediately opposite the
avenue to Pilrig House, a fine double row of old trees
now superseded by a street. The changes that had
been effected partook of the usual character of the
neighbourhood — shabby pretension. The proprietor, a
BEGINNING BUSINESS. 143
builder in Edinburgh, had accumulated a number of old
shop-doors and windows, which, dismissed as unfashion-
able and out of date, suited the locality, and gave a
genteel finish to the new fronts that were stuck up along
the row of mean brick edifices. Here was the shop I
selected — a place of very moderate dimensions, not
more than twelve feet square. For it I was to pay an
annual rent of ten pounds ; the possibility of my paying
any such sum being, I own, somewhat visionary. Hope,
however, was in the ascendant.
Without stock, capital, or shop furniture, my attempt
at beginning business would almost seem like trymg 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 above twenty 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,
144 MEMOIR.
Robertson, Blair, Hume and Smollett, Bums, 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 (Mr Thomas Tegg, 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 fresh 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 Richard Griffin, the agent of this tradesman,
who, by a singular accident, fell in my way. In con-
cluding 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. i45
is withdrawn, and the \v\ne 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 song.
The sale on the present occasion took place in the
Lord Nelson Hotel, Adam Square. Mr Griffin requir-
ing 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 klat. 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
146 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 incmring 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. 147
five pounds in value; that in 1792, when he retired into
private Hfe, the profits of his business amounted to
;^5ooo a year; and that he had reaUsed all he was
possessed of, by 'small profits, bound by industry, and
clasped by economy.'' I could not possibly expect to 1
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.
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. With the five shillings which
I had received as my last week's wages, I purchased a
few deals at 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.
Having at length prepared everything to my mind,
I was able one day, at the beginning of June, when
the weather happened to be good, to commence my
small business. Picture me, on a fine sunny morning,
planting a pair of trestles on the broad sideway 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 ones 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
148 MEMOIR.
had exhibited Httle 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 SPECULATION IN FLUTES. 149
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 Mr Griftin, 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
150 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 ray
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 othenvise 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. 151
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
152 MEMOIR.
pride; and how this act of fiHal disobedience, having
preyed in after-hfc 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. 153
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 tliat 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 jjointed 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
154 MEMOIR.
transcriptions. Wliat 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 (Mr James Dallas) who happened to
see one of my specimens of caligraphy, was pleased to
think better of it than it deserved, and without solicita-
tion 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 bind-
ings for his library. One day, he called to inquire as
to the practicability of my supplying his wants. Satis-
fied with the information, he gave an order of such mag-
nitude as astonished me, and raised serious doubts as to
how, with my miserable resources, it was to be executed.
Apprehending some difificulty 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 efiforts. 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. 155
extent of hundreds of pounds. In my o\rci 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 whose names become
generally known are insignificant in number to tlie 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 George Galloway, an
aged shoemaker, who, deserting his last, had taken to
the writing of poems and dramas. His standard pro-
duction was The Battle of Lu near iy, vihxch. his admirers
thought 'almost' as good as Shakspeare. William Knox,
author of The Lonely Hearth and other Poems, was an
enthusiast of a different kind, 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
156 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 \vith 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 pohtics, 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 tlien, in a kindly way,
PRINTING APPARATUS ACQUIRED. 157
looked in upon him at his den in Leith Wynd, where
he latterly made a livelihood by coftee-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 t}'pes, 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
158 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
MV PRESS AMD TYPES. 159
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,
i6o 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. ' Tam o' the Cowgate.' In the fine old dining-
hall where * Tam ' 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 COMPOSITORSHIP. i6i
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 before 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 oft" 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 art !
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 a[)artment,
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
i62 MEMOIR.
the desire to rise and have an hour or two of exercise
at the Httle 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 many 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 povert)^,' 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. 163
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 othenvise 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
inipoi-lunl 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
1 64 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 neyer_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 St Margaret's Well, which passed
along the Walk every morning, the driver blowing a
long tin horn to give note of his approach. The water
was sold at a halfpenny the pitcher. As may be sup-
posed, I was my own water-carrier. My brother, with
whom I had some pleasant consultations every evening,
on business and other afiairs, 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
PAINTmC THE SIGNBOARD. 165
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 eightecn-
pence. My practice in writing letters to resemble print
rendered the painting a matter of no difficulty ; accord-
ingly, with some oil-paint and bnishes 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 ineftectually trying to get a post as
harbour-master 3 the broken-down merchant, who lives
1 66 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
IHinois, 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
^f.
PA WKIE MA CGO UGG Y. 167
politeness, and then, as well as a few years later, I
learned a part of her history. She had tnnelled 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 fiiithful and sorrowing Pawkie
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 thai I was carrying
1 68 MEMOIR.
on a small printing trade, one day sent for mc. On
calling, I was introduced to this worthy old citizen
(John Clapperton) — a small-sized man of advanced age,
wearing hair-powder. After a little conversation regard-
ing 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. For many years, the
bill had been distinguished by Fresh a?id 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 the types of 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 Fj-esh 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
1 p that there would be no fear of me if I kept steady and
I 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 tlie 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 AGED TYPEFOUNDER. 169
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 after\vards, 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 177 1.
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 litde I dared to attempt in that way, for anxiety
I70 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. 171
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, 182 1. 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 unexpectctl
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 1 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.
172 MEMOIR.
I should probably have broken clown 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 Avith 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,
STEWART LEWIS. 1 73
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 g^ay 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.
I,
174 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. 1 75
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,
176 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 :
" My 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
STEWART LEWIS. 177
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 hlazc.
Thy thrifty hand made a' to shine ;
Thou 'st been my comfort a' my days,
Thou carefu' dear 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 dear 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 181 8. 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 i)ieccs were the best. Some
of tliem were toucliing and beautiful, particularly the
178 MEMOIR.
address ' To the Evening Star,' which has been often
reprinted by compilers of vokimes 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 spnmg.
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.
/ 7^
DESERTION OF THE WALK. 179
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 I
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 1
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 12th January 1822.
From about this time, new and enlarged views began
to predominate. Through a fervid earnestness of pur-
pose, and the endurance of privations which were never
felt to be of any serious consequence, 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.
The Walk, 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 his
I So MEMOIR.
* 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 associa-
tions of open-air traffic. Migration was accordingly
resolved on, and we had sundry communings as regards
where we should respectively attempt to establish our-
selves in Edinburgh.
The step was adventurous, but not unjustifiable. We
had, each in his own way, gained a footing, along with
some experience. Robert had not been disciplined to
business, as I had the fortune to be during an apprentice-
ship ; but he was tractable, open to advice, and through
sheer necessity he had allowed no opportunity to slip of
improving his condition by diligent attention to details
of a very humble kind. His accuracy was exemplified
by punctiliously keeping a regular account of his
business transactions, which has happily survived, and
can be referred to as an evidence of the way in which
he, little by little, accumulated means through a course
of self-denial and painstaking industry. It is vastly
interesting, at this distant day, to peruse the faithful
record of each day's sale of a few old books, with the
profit on each carefully noted, and the amount summed
up at the end of the week, during a space of several
years. The penmanship is neat; and the calculations
are executed with a precision which might ofier an
example to such beginners in business as are apt to take
a loose view of the relationship which should subsist
between income and expenditure.
An additional interest is given to the record by the
occasional entry of sums realised for ' Writing,' from a
single shilling to sometimes as much as ten to twelve
shillings. These entries signify that so much was gained
A TASK IN PENMANSHIP. iSi
by executing small quantities of visiting-cards, inscrip-
tions on books, petitions, and poetic pieces in the minute
kind of caligraphy in which my brother excelled ; the
larger sums so specified being, of course, for what,
in the intervals of ordinary business, had involved the
labour of several days. The writing of ' petitions ' was
the most profitable of this kind of work, only it did not
come very often. On one occasion, we see an entry of
a pound for * Writing a petition,' the profit on which is
candidly set down at nineteen shillings and sixpence.
A great day that ! With such valuable extraneous aids,
Robert's general earnings were raised, as he takes care
to calculate by working out an arithmetical question at
the end of the book, to an average of one pound eight
shillings and threepence-halfpenny weekly in the first
half-year of 182 1.
An evidence of his painstaking assiduity at this period,
or shortly afterwards, has lately been presented in .a
communication to a Fifeshire newspaper, which I give
in an abbreviated form : ' Among the books required
for a public librar}' set on foot at Dysart, was Travels in
Italy, by Dr John Moore, a cheap second-hand copy of
which was found at the small establishment of Robert
Chambers, in Leith Walk. Unfortunately, the book
was incomplete. Four leaves at the centre of the volume
were missing. Anxious to effect a sale, Mr Chambers
engaged to complete the work. And neatly, too, he
did it. With a crow pen he ^v^ote in a manner to
resemble print the missing eight pages, and rebound the
book. The pages supplied by him are quite as easily
read as the rest of the text, and the whole transaction
offers a good example of the energy of purpose and
perseverance which characterised his successful career.*
1 82 MEMOIR.
The volume which had been so ingeniously completed
to render it a marketable commodity, has been kindly
presented to me by the gentleman whose property it ulti-
mately became. It may be reckoned a 'curiosity in
literature.' The work of reparation must have cost
several days of diligent application with the pen, while
the entire price realised would at most be only two or
three shillings.
In the autumn of 1822 we had both a spurt onwards
from a wholly unforeseen cause, the value of which it
would be difficult to estimate. The extraordinary event
was the visit of George IV. to Edinburgh. How this
royal excursion should in any manner have influenced
the fortunes of two such humble individuals may appear
unaccountable. The explanation is simple. Taking
advantage of the general excitement, I worked night
and day printing off broadsides, popular songs, and
programmes of the royal processions, which sold
immensely. Robert participated in the windfall by
being employed by several public bodies to write
addresses to His Majesty in the peculiarly captivating
style of penmanship for which he was now in some
degree celebrated, through the recommendations of Sir
Walter Scott — the recognised mainspring of this exciting
national saturnalia.
The explanation so far, is, no doubt, simple enough,
but how did my brother, immersed in obscurity in Leith
Walk, become personally known to the author of
Waverley ? That needs to be cleared up. The inci-
dent has a tinge of romance, and curiously illustrates
how one thing may unexpectedly lead to another. At
this time there dwelt in Leith a good-natured middle-
aged man, a shipbuilder, by name Mr Alexander Sime.
INTRODUCTION TO SIR WALTER SCOTT. 1S3
He had been educated at Peebles, and retained some
vivid recollections of the old burgh and its inhabitants.
One of his agreeable remembrances related to the
dancing-school, at which shone a pretty and lady-like
girl, Jeanie Gibson, the noonday of whose married life
had been clouded by a series of misfortunes in saddening
contrast with the bright anticipations of her early morn-
ing; and now, as he learned, her two elder sons were
pushing their way on as booksellers in Leith WalL
Sime's best feelings were interested. He made himself
known to us, and a cordial intimacy ensued. Through
him we became acquainted with Mr William Reid, a well-
known bookseller in Leith, and a person of singularly
genial disposition. Reid acted as a true friend. He
occasionally looked in upon us to ofier a word of advice
and encouragement, and was much pleased with my
brother's specimens of writing, one of which con-
sisted of a large sheet of extracts of Sir Walter Scott's
poetry. Desirous to be useful to the struggling youth,
Reid carried off the specimen to shew to his friend
Constable, then in the zenith of his power. This cir-
cumstance immediately led to an interview between the
great publisher and my brother. The following is the
account of what occurred, as given by Robert in the
memoranda which have been latterly recovered :
*It was proposed that I should wTite something of
the same kind in the shape of a volume, which I should
present to Sir Walter, with a letter of introduction from
the publisher. The matter proposed by Mr Constable
was the songs in the Lady of the Lake, which he seemed
to indicate as being the poet's pet compositions. In the
course of a few months 1 had finished my little volume
i84 MEMOIR.
with a neat title-page, and it was sent to Mr Constable
at his own request, in order to be bound. It was not
till February 1822 it was returned, along with the
promised letter of introduction. Furnished with that
document, I proceeded next day to the poet's residence
in Castle Street, where I had the good-fortune to find
him in his study. He received me, as he received every
one who approached him, with a homely kindness of
manner which at once placed me at my ease ; and
having had the volume in his possession for some hours,
he was able to express his surprise, and also that of his
wife — for so he designated Lady Scott — at the extreme
neatness and minuteness of the writing. He said he
would place the book in his library at Abbotsford, and
he was sure it would be considered as not the least
curious of the many curiosities there deposited. He
then made inquiries respecting my occupations, and
having been informed that I dealt partly in old books,
requested that I would let him know when I happened
to possess any of particular rarity or value. After some
further conversation I took my leave, astonished at the
gentle and easy manners of a man whom I had been
accustomed to regard as a superior order of being, and
delighted with the reflection that I would ever have it to
say, perhaps many years after he should be dead and
gone, that I had seen and talked with him.'
For Mr Constable's kindness in introducing him to
Sir Walter Scott, my brother was peculiarly grateful, as
may be gathered from a letter addressed to him, dated
'Leith Walk, 25th February 1821.' The letter is
embraced in the interesting work on his father by Mr
Thomas Constable. After some enthusiastic expressions
of gratitude, he adds :
VISIT TO SIR WALTER SCOTT. 185
' I took the letter of introduction which you so kindly
transmitted by Mr Reid, to Sir Walter Scott on Tuesday
last, and was received by that gentleman in a manner so
flattering, so condescending, so truly polite (and his polite-
ness is the very essence of benevolence), that I could
scarcely believe that I was the real object of so much
attention, but rather that I was only acting some imaginary
part in the pageant of a dream ! He praised my penman-
ship so highly that I almost grew ashamed to hear one who
is himself so far removed above all minute ingenuities
become the flatterer of a merely tasteful curiosity. He had
also shewn it to Lady Scott and to several of his friends,
who all honoured it with the same commendation. I am
now somewhat afraid that I stayed too long, for he rose
first, as a signal for breaking up the interview, though I was
not with him more than a quarter of an hour. I hope,
however, if I have been guilty there, that really my excuse
will readily be found in my only having endeavoured to take
as long a draught as possible of the rich and bewitching
bowl of his presence. In this interview, the enthusiastic
wish of several years has been gratified — I have seen and
spoken to Sir Walter Scott, and, like the comet which travels
to the sun once in a thousand years, and lays in such a stock
of heat and blazing glories as serves it in all its wander-
ings through the coldest bounds of its orbit, I have received
so much reflected greatness from my own near approach to
this centre of the literary system, that the experience of a
century of mere common prose life could scarcely expend it.
* I hope, sir, that you will give me willing credit for my
feelings when I declare that all the gratification of pride
and ambition of distinction as an artist, and all the gracious
circumstance of being noticed by the kindness of Sir
Walter Scott, scarcely brought me half so satisfying and
sincere a pleasure as the way in which my mother was
elated by my honours, and participated in my feelings on the
occasion. The first was a pleasure peculiarly of the soul,
but this was a pleasure of the heart. Of all friends, a
1 86 MEMOIR.
mother is the most sympathising, whether in adversity or
prosperity ; there is nothing could make her so happy as
the honourable distinction of her son, and nothing so
miserable as his debasement.'
Some few additional particulars of the acquaintanceship
with Sir Walter, so begun, are gathered from a letter
which Robert wrote to Thomas Scott, a humble friend,
a native of Roxburghshire, who had come about him
at his small place of business, and to whom he afterwards
freely communicated his thoughts on literary subjects.
In the letter, which is dated from '32 Leith Walk, 14th
July 1822, opposite the Botanic Gardens,' to which he
had lately removed in order to be nearer Edinburgh, he
mentions being visited by Alexander Campbell, editor
of Albyn's Anthology, who had called at the request of
Sir Walter — perhaps not alone to pay a compliment,
but to see the nature of the young bookseller's establish-
ment. Campbell, a worthy man, seems to have been
saddened with the aspect of affairs — a mean low-roofed
building with a book-stall at the door ; in the meagre
interior, a modest and light-haired youth, poorly clad,
apparently friendless so far as any substantial benefit
was concerned, diligently exerting himself to eke out a
slender means of subsistence by executing a scrap of
ornamental caligraphy with a crow pen, the paper being
laid on a shop shutter which was propped up to answer
the purpose of a desk on the small counter. The old
man's feelings were touched. The ingenuous youth,
so tasking himself, surely deserved something better.
Looking around him, and entering into conversation,
Mr Campbell ventured to hint that by a proper appli-
cation to Sir Walter, my brother could easily procure a
means of livelihood superior to that which he now
A BUSINESS MISSIVE. 187
possessed. In a spirit of that delicacy and independ-
ence for which he was signahsed, the hint was gently
but firmly repudiated. He says, in describing the scene :
* I declined the well-meant proposal. I feel that
degradation and misery would be preferable to demean-
ing myself in the eyes of so great a man. Sir Walter
Scott has so many claimants on his generosity, and is
troubled by so many unreasonable requests, that I, with
all my necessities, would feel degraded to invite his assist-
ance, or even to anticipate by one moment the desire he
might conceive for favouring me. The thought would
be truly intolerable.'
In short, Robert was resolved to fight on and trust to
circumstances, in preference to putting himself in the
light of a petitioner. He would drudge, labour, sufifer
— almost starve, as some might think — but even in the
gloom which shrouded him, he was too proud to petition
for special favour. He venerated Sir Walter Scott almost
to adoration, but he disdained to trouble him with his
necessities, or to encroach on his beneficence. What a
lesson to the young, who are inconsiderately prone to be
on the outlook for patrons, it may be at the sacrifice of
personal independence along with a lifelong feeling of
abasement 1 We shall see that the self-reliant policy
proved quite as successful as it was commendable.
Following on the account of the interview with
Campbell, Robert narrates what took place at a busi-
ness mission to Sir Walter Scott, at his town residence,
39 Castle Street. ' I called,' he says, ' on Sir Walter
last Wednesday, with the purpose of shewing him a few
curious old books, and a catalogue of more which I
happened to have the power of selling. He made an
apology for never having come down the Walk to see
1 88 MEMOIR.
me as he promised ; and bought the two volumes I had
taken with me ; besides desiring me to bring up some,
which he pointed out in the hst, next morning at nine
o'clock. I was punctual, you may be sure, to my
appointment ; and had the happiness of seeing him
again in his own study. I stood within two feet of a
sheet of paper, which he had written about half down
the page. Perhaps it was the next new novel ! He
bought other three volumes, giving me an excellent
price. I paste a small piece of a bank-note which I got
out of his own hand upon the present letter. \Here a
stnall trians;ular piece of dingy paper cut from the cor7ier of
a Scotch poujid-note is stuck by wax on the letter^ I need
not tell you to regard it with veneration, and to preserve
it with reverence. It would be a loss of twenty shillings
to me, if I were to confer the same favour upon other
thirty of my poetical, enthusiastic friends ! The most
important and remarkable circumstance of this interview,
was Sir Walter saying very kindly : " I shall always be
very happy to hear from you, Mr Chambers, and to take
an interest in your welfare." After which he good-
morningised me out of the room. He seems confused
in speaking, and forgets by the end of a topic what he
said at the beginning ; as if he were fretting with impa-
tience to get people away, and to sit down to his eternal
task again. I did not see him above seven or eight
minutes.'
These are trivial but not uninteresting memorials of
an opening intercourse which ripened into an intimacy
with the greatest of modern Scotsmen. The worst part
of Robert's early struggle was about over. The dark
cloud was passing away. The visit of George IV. to
Edinburgh in August 1822, brought a windfall, as has
MOVING TOWARDS THE FRONT. 1S9
been stated, to the painstaking youth. Sir Walter
Scott, remembering his ability as a penman, zealously
promoted his interests in this direction. For a time,
he was kept busily employed in writing addresses to
the king ; besides which he was commissioned by Sir
Walter to transcribe into a volume, similar to the
So7igs in the Lady of the Lake, the best of the poetical
effusions that had been poured out on the occasion.
By these several means his position was so materially
improved, that his originally small stock had now
increased to be worth about two hundred pounds;
and, thanks to the superhuman work at the hand-press,
I had made a similar, if not greater advance. There
were, accordingly, some grounds for our resolving to
move a little towards the front. In 1S23, my brother
removed to India Place ; and about the same time
I removed to Broughton Street; both places, as we
diffidently ventured to hope, being intermediate to
something better.
CHAPTER VII.
Robert's writings — 1822 to 1832.
A /f Y brother's literary efforts had hitherto been on a
^ ^ hmited 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 Illustraiions 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 formed a convenient
source of information on the subject.
As in the case of young writers with their first pro-
ductions, Robert was in a difiiculty about a publisher
for his Illustrations. He or I in our humble way
of business could scarcely be thought of. Interested in
all we were about, and anxious for our advancement, my
mother was of opinion that Mr Constable, for whom
ROBERTS FIRST WORK. 191
she entertained a high opinion, should be applied to.
Robert, accordingly, after having matured his plan,
ventured to write to that eminent bookseller, asking
his advice and assistance. The letter, dated from
Leith Walk, 13th May 1822, affords a good idea of that
earnestness of purpose which animated my brother
at the outset of his literary career, and which indeed
carried him tlirough life. Addressing Mr Constable,
he says :
* Since I concluded the long task of writing the songs
in the Lady of the Lake which, through your kind means,
I am proud to acknowledge, has turned out so happily for
me, I have again resumed the literary pursuits which had
been then, and frequently before, interrupted by the less
favourite practice of ornamental penmanship ; and have
now nearly finished a work which, in my opinion, would
excite a pretty high interest in the world, if ushered forth
in the proper manner, which it would require either your
interfering attention to assist, or your name to render
respectable.
' I have myself employed much labour of research, and
have engaged in the same cause many friends in the coimtr)^,
who have better opportunities in discovering the originals of
characters supposed to be fictitiously described in the works
of the author of Wavcrley j and I have already prepared a
considerable number of notices and anecdotes of such as I
have been so fortunate as to find, which are certainly of a
very amusing and humorous nature. I include in the design
descriptions of real scenes, manners, and incidents, intro-
duced into these glorious productions, and historical sketches
of remarkable personages, upon whose actions some of them
have been so interestingly founded.
'The performance of this work I will execute with such
an absolute abstraction from all catchpenny or invidious
intents, that none of its information can ever at all tend to
deteriorate the fame or character of our national novelist in
192 MEMOIR.
regard to his being an author oi purely original conceptions,
but will rather appear as a series of entertaining stories and
anecdotes, which derive their chief and most immediate
interest from their reference to these works, and are other-
wise wholly abstract, independent, and relying on their own
deserts. . . .
* I had proposed the printing of this work to my brother,
who has lately, with an ingenuity that does him honour,
taken up that trade at his own hand ; and he so far encour-
aged my design as to agree to throw off a thousand copies
for the consideration of a third part of the impression.
But upon second, or rather I should say sixtieth thoughts, I
found out that to print it at such an obscure place as Leith
Walk, and to publish it at the shop of such an unheard-of
bookseller as your humble servant, would be at once to
stamp it with ignominy, or what is precisely the same thing,
obscurity. Wherefore, I have now, by the advice of my
mother — who wonders, good woman, what can have set me
upon such high designs against the world — to go at once
to the fountain-head of respectability, and proffer the fruits
of my industry to you.
' I do not myself entertain the slightest doubt that you
could bring my intentions to a profitable issue ; but objec-
tions may perhaps occur to you which I am too nearly
interested to observe. You may perhaps, however, be able
to favour me with your advice in the affair, at all events, if
with that alone I am to be content.
' You will do me infinite happiness by writing to me as
soon as convenient. Should you be so kind as desire it, I
can hand you a specimen of any of my manuscript imme-
diately ; and I could have the whole work ready for the
press in two, or at farthest three months from this date. — In
the meanwhile, I remain, sir, your most humble servant,
Robert Chambers.'
The attempt to induce Mr Constable to launch the
Illustrations, failed, and Robert was left no other resource
ILLUSTRATIONS OF AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY. i93
than to engage me as publisher as well as printer, and I
may add bookbinder ; for, after setting the types (in my
best long-primer), and working off the impression, con-
sisting of a thousand copies, I put the whole in boards
with a pinkish paper cover and white back-title. The
small volume was embellished with a likeness of Rob
Roy, produced from a copper-plate bought cheap from
an engraver. Such was my brother's first book, the
Illustrations of the Author of Waverley. Though far from
being attractive in appearance, it was well received.
The copies printed were sold off to some pecuniary
advantage, and the writer won that amount of reputation
which encouraged him to persevere in his etilbrts. He
had fortunately brought himself into the notice of an
Edinburgh publisher, who undertook to bring out the
book in better style. A second and more extended
edition was therefore issued in 1824, and it helped
materially to improve Robert's chances as an author.
In this new edition of the Illustrations, the likeness of
Rob Roy was dismissed ; its place as a frontispiece being
taken by an engraving of Sir Walter Scott, but with the
face hid by a curtain — a hint as to who was the Great
Unknown.
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
to tlie annotated edition of the Monastery, an erroneous
conjecture had been hazarded respecting Captain
Clutterbuck, who, not a little to the surprise uf Sir
Walter, was identified with a friend and neighbour of
his own. Apart, however, from misapprehensions of
194 MEMOIR.
this kind, the TUustrations pointed, in a wonderfully
correct manner, at the originals of some of the principal
characters in the earlier novels, and contained some
amusing sketches, the result of observation.
Among the persons by whom my brother was aided
in gathering together materials for the Illustrations was
Thomas Scott, already mentioned as being a native of
Roxburghshire, who came about him while in Leith Walk,
and to whom he afterwards wrote a number of letters,
which were long fondly cherished, and have latterly and
unexpectedly come into my possession. In one of these
letters, dated 1820, he speaks of a widow lady and her
daughters who inhabited the floor immediately over his
place of business, and with whom, through kindred
musical tastes, he happened to become acquainted. The
young ladies, as we learn, sang and played on the piano-
forte beautifully, and their singing was listened to by
my brother as if coming from a choir of angels. The
performances of Lilias, one of these youthful divinities —
there is always 07ie who reaches perfection — conveyed
the most delightful sensations. When at night, he lay
down in his dingy back-room, and heard the warbling
of Lilias overhead, he could scarcely do less than give
utterance to his feelings in a poetical effusion, a copy of
which appears in his letter to Scott:
LINES ON HEARING A LADY SINGING.
When balmy sleep, in gloom of night,
My life from all it was redeemed,
I dreamed a dream of fond delight.
For scarce a waking bliss it seemed.
I heard a voice that softly sung
A strain I knew, but could not nnnae,
And aye, methought, I knew the tongue
From whence the mellow music came.
STORY OF LEILA. i95
It rose, it fell, it died away
Upon the rapture-feasted ear.
But still the breeze that murmured by,
Came fraught with sounds I strained to hear.
It rose again, a gentle swell
Of Nature's purest melody ;
And every former sound was still,
Save that alone so dear to me.
Robert's acquaintance with this accompHshed musical
family was not broken off by his removal to Edinburgh-
It continued for some time, during which Lilias was the
inspiring heroine of a poetical effusion more tender than
the preceding, and a copy of which is procured from his
correspondence with William Wilson, another early
acquaintance. Wilson was a young man of about his
own age, who had similar poetical and archKological
tastes, and for a time edited a literary periodical in
Dundee. Between the two there sprung up an extra-
ordinary 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. The poetical effusion just referred to was as
follows. For the sake of euphony, Robert calls the
heroine Leila :
FAIR I.EILA'S eyes.
Fair Leila's eyes, fair Leila's eyes,
Oft (ill 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,
196 MEMOIR.
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, &c.
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.
/ s 1 / ^'^vc Leila's eyes, fair Leila's eyes, &c.
Notwithstanding an ardent and mutual affection,
Leila was not destined to be my brother's wife. Her
mother, from extreme prudential considerations, abruptly
terminated the intimacy. Robert was not supposed to
be in the category of an eligible ; and it was rashly
assumed that he might never possibly be so. It was
a hapless decision, to which, considering his still
comparatively humble circumstances, he refrained from
offering any opposition; nor did he by any indirect
means try to influence the feelings of Leila. He would
do nothing to bring her down from the sphere in which
she moved under the parental administration. Acqui-
escing, perhaps with a sigh, in her mother's notions of
what was right and commendable, Leila was in due
time wedded to another. Her marriage, as will after-
wards appear, proved particularly unfortunate, and
became the source of acutely painful recollections.
With a little patience and foresight, things would have
TRADITIONS OF EDINBURGH. 197
ended otherwise ; for Robert's literary successes soon
placed him in a position which had not been at all
anticipated.
After being settled in India Place, he carried out the
design of writing the Traditiofis 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,
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
state of things, traditions were gathered together which
in a few years later would have entirely vanished.
The Traditions, thus happily thought of while there
were still living memories to draw upon, well suited the
antiquarian and historical tastes of my brother, and
he entered on the work with the keenest possible
relish. Yet, in a business point of view, he and I
were alike diffident as to the undertaking. Neither of
us being able to risk the loss of even a few pounds,
we announced that the work would be issued in
1 98 MEMOIR.
numbers as soon as a hundred subscribers were obtained.
The requisite subscribers were in no long time pro-
cured ; the work was put to press ; and the first
number pubhshed in March 1824. It met with such
success, that it had to be reprinted, and the sale of
the book increased until all the numbers were issued,
forming when complete two volumes post octavo. I
was, of course, the printer and publisher, the whole
case and press work being, as hitherto, executed with
my own hands — a piece of duty of which I entertain a
pleasant remembrance.
There was much family exultation over Robert's
successful achievement, regarding which there were
sundry congratulations from persons whose good opinion
it was important to obtain. Writing to his friend 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
ATan 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.'
To Mr Constable, to whom the project of the
Traditions had been confided, he writes, July 15, 1S24:
A VISIT TO CONSTABLE. 199
*In fulfilment of your sanguine predictions, the work
has taken in a most astonishing manner.' Elated by
this remarkable success, and with overwrought expecta-
tions as to further sales, a new and inconsiderately large
edition was executed, which led to some inconvenience.
Perceiving when it was too late that the thing was
overdone, my brother in a dejected mood wrote to Mr
Constable, who had been most friendly throughout,
asking for his counsel on the subject. His letter is
dated April 6, 1825. *I want,' says he, 'your advice:
the vastness of the edition is too much for my slender
and ill-formed capital, and I begin to feel the distresses
of premature and ill-judged speculation. No doubt, the
thing will ultimately pay, and well, but then, how am I
to keep afloat till I reach thr^ ahore ? Come weal, come
woe, I have therefore made up my mind to extricate
myself from the miseries of publication, so that I can only
get anything like a fair remuneration for the literary part
of the property. I shall try to see you to-morrow, and
hope your goodness will unite with your sense and
experience in pointing out the path I should choose.'
Arising out of these perplexities, and as wished by
my brother, I waited on Mr Constable at his place of
business in Princes Street. It was the only time I had the
honour of conversing with this distinguished bookseller ;
the interview taking place at the period of an impending
crisis in his affairs, of which, however, I was ignorant,
I was received with the urbanity for which Mr Constable
was noted. On my giving explanations regarding the
work, he advised the transmission of a large portion
of the superfluous edition to Messrs Hurst, Robinson,
and Company, his correspondents in London, to whom
he would write recommending the book to tlieir
200 MEMOIR,
attention as publishers. Some large packages were
accordingly sent. But after a little time, the adventure
seemed so unsatisfactory, that I went to London to see
after matters.
It was on a fine summer evening in 1825, that, arriving
by a steamer in the Thames, I first visited the metropoHs.
The circumstance is to be specially remembered by me.
It being too late to pursue my business mission, I
bethought myself of calling on Mr John Clark, of
Westminster, an artist whom I had accidentally met
hi Scotland the previous year, when taking views of
the principal towns. A long walk brought me to Mr
Clark's door. It was opened by a sprightly young lady,
his daughter, whom I had never seen before. The inter-
view with the family was agreeable. An intimacy ensued.
And some years afterwards, when the fates were pro-
pitious, the sprightly young lady who had chanced to
open the door became my wife.
Turning from this romantic episode. On the day after
my arrival in London, I visited the publishing concern
in Cheapside to which the Traditions had been con-
signed, and concluding that things looked ill, I ordered
the whole stock to be returned. The decision was
fortunate ; for Hurst, Robinson, and Company shortly
afterwards succumbed in the general storm of bankruptcy
in which Sir Walter Scott, the Ballantynes, and Archibald
Constable were lucklessly involved. We lost nothing.
To wind up the affair, the stock and copyright of the
Traditions were disposed of to W^illiam Tait, for a sum
of between three and four hundred pounds. In this
way, everything terminated happily. What became
of the money, will afterwards appear. In better days,
when circumstances permitted, we were able to purchase
DISPOSAL OF THE TRADITIONS. 201
back the copyright, and execute fresh and improved
editions of the work. In an introductoiy notice to a
new edition in 1868, Robert, at my request, gave the
following account of the manner in which the book 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 Edin-
burgh. If, I calculated, a fivstj>arf ox .nmnber 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
unbounded came to me, chiefly from aged professional
and mercantile gentlemen, who usually, at my 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.
202 MEMOIR.
' 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 m
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 what 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
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 Caerlave-
rock," in the Minstrelsy, is a masterly production ; and
the concluding verses haunt one like a beautiful strain
of music :
CHARLES KIRKPA TRICK SHARPE. 203
" 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 'II 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 aniongst 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 stufted 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
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, tlie
204 MEMOIR.
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
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 hved in the most cultivated society of Scotland all
OLD EDINBURGH CHARACTERS. 205
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.
' I 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
nfterwards 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
N
2o6 MEMOIR.
man liked me, in part because he understood I was
from Tvveedside. On seeing the eariier 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 Traditio7is, and taking up the volume,
he read aloud what he called one of his quai?it 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
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,
DA VID BRIDGES. 2fyj
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 literaiy 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 Scotla?i(i, 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,
liowever, 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.
' 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
2o8 MEMOIR.
tongue xmloving of rest, such a man in a degree as one
can suppose Garrlck 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
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
HENRY MACKENZIE. 7109
and others, who were pleased to think that Old Edin-
burgh had been chronicled. Wilson gave me a laudatory
sentence in the Nodes Ambrosiatm. The Eard 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 bom in 1745, but
always seemed to feel as if the Maji 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-
hended a variety of particulars gathered since the first
appearance of the work, and calculated to heighten the
legendary picture of Old Edinburgh. A great propor-
tion of this new matter was drawn from a small work
which my brother wrote under the title of Reekiana^
which appeared some years later. The new edition of
the Traditions is therefore a considerable improvement
on the old.
Contemporaneously with the issue of the Traditions,
* Discreetly unharness in good time a liurse growing old, lest iu
Ihc end he make a miserable break-down.
2IO MEMOIR.
my brother produced a small work to help the fund
raised on behalf of the sufferers by a series of calamitous
fires in Edinburgh, in November 1824. It consisted of
a popular account of the chief Fires which have occurred
in Edinburi^h 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
general features of the city, and pardy devoted to the
service of strangers. It was styled IVaiks in Edinbwgh,
and was issued in 1S25. 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 oi 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 :
* 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
rhjTiies and short snatches of verse applicable to places,
PICTURE OF SCOTLAND. 211
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
of these relics of the old ?iaiural literature of my native
country.'
Next in succession after the Popular Rhytnes, he, in
1826, produced the Picture of Scotland, a work in two
volumes, the materials for which had been gathered
together by a succession of toilsome peregrinations over
a large part of the country, exclusively of previous his-
torical studies. An ardent attachment 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 roman-
tic banks of her streams ; and to muse by the stately
towers of venerable ruins, once the homesteads of her
heroes.'" In the main topographical, the book compre-
hended an interlarding of native anecdote and humour,
along with illustrations of the manners of a ^^ast 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
212 MEMOIR.
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 wTiters.
Archibald Constable, in his attempts to revive a
publishing business after the catastrophe of 1825,
happily carried out a project which he had already
conceived and initiated. This was the publication of a
series of cheap and handy volumes in popular literature,
specially Avritten by persons of tried ability for the
undertaking, and designated Constable^ s Miscellany. In
a letter to Mr Constable dated April 19, 1827, Robert
offered to become a contributor. He says — * Observ-
ing in your Prospectus that you intend to publish
an account of the Rebellion of 1745, I beg to state
that I have made considerable collections for such
a work, and would be glad to get it a place among
the "troops of the jMiscellany." My design is simply to
give a popular narrative, with all the characteristic
anecdotes, and I think the whole might go into one of
your volumes. An Edinburgh bookseller, with whom
I have already had some literary transactions, is
inclined to think that my work might succeed in the
WORKS FOR CONSTABLES MISCELLANY. zit,
extended and independent form of two volumes octavo ;
but with deference to his opinion, which I feel to be
highly flattering, I think the subject, interesting as it is,
would scarcely warrant so massive a publication, nor
could I give it a value sufficient to insure even the
chance of success. . . . My work would be a good
warrior, but one who could act to advantage only when
forming an individual in a regular army, and under the
command of an independent leader.'
The work so proposed was accepted, and appeared
in Constables Miscella?iy in 1828, as a History of the
Rebellion of 1745, in two volumes. It was followed in
the Miscellany at the close of the same year by 2l History
of the Jvebellions i?i Seotland under the Marquis of
Montrose and others from 1638 to 1660, in two volumes;
this was followed, in 1829, by a History of the Rebellions
in Scotland under Visco^mt Dundee and the Earl of Mar
in 1689 and 1715, in one volume; and finally, in
1830, Robert contributed the Life of James /, in two
volumes. Such, however, was not the entire amount of
his literary labour. He edited Scottish Ballads and
Songs, three volumes (1829), and the Biographical Dic-
tionary of Eminent Scotsmen, four volumes (1832-1834) ;
besides which, he furnished Mr Lockhart with a variety
of valuable notes for his Life of Robert Burns. With
improved prospects by these and other means, my
brother removed his bookselling business to Hanover
Street, where the conducting of his establishment fell
partly on James, who had been reared as a coadjutor.
Of all the works which he so produced immediately
after the Iraditions, that which attained the greatest
and most enduring popularity was the History of the
Rebellion of i-j^^, the materials fur which were gathered
214 MEMOIR.
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
\.\\Q 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,
who, in reviewing Lord Mahon's History of Erigland
(1839), refers to the 'many curious details, gleaned mth
exemplary diligence, and presented in a lively enough
style,' in the histories of the rebellions of 17 15 and
1745, by 'Mr Robert Chambers, a bookseller and
antiquary of Edinburgh,' adding : ' His Jacobitism
seems that of a rampant Highlander 3 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 tlieir lights, with heroic self-
devotion, and were not fairly liable to the vulgar ridicule
and vituperations thrown upon them by those whose
HISTORY OF THE REBELLION. 215
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
* 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
2i6 MEMOIR.
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 fonned 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
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 AUanton, 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 i\\e Jacob He Memoirs of the Rebellion of
1745. But from the widespread information contained
in the collection, were draw^n innumerable particulars of
a deeply interesting kind for the revised edition of the
History.
Betw'een 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. His poetical powers did not aspire
to be of a high or very original character, but there was
a touching delicacy of sentiment and also much humour
SCO TTISII JES TS. 217
in some of his performances that gained the approbation
of his friends. One of his eftusions purported to be
written July 1829, in reference to the young lady, Miss
Anne Kirkwood, to whom he was married in December
of that year.
Towards the close of 1831, he 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.' 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 cer-
tainly remarkable in all works purporting to be collec-
tions of Scottish jests and anecdotes, is the abundance
of droll sayings and doings of parish ministers, beadles,
and old serving-men. With a number of amusing jocu-
larities of this kind, the Scottish Jests and Anecdotes
was pretty well received, and went through two editions ;
after which, dropping out of notice, it was left for the
late Very Rev. Dean Ramsay to take up the subject in
that more earnest spirit which has insured a great share
of public approbation.
2i8 MEMOIR.
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 style of politics, that has
been latterly discontinued. In this line of duty, which
was new to him, he gave much satisfaction by his
assiduity and the tastefulness of his writing.
Between Sir Walter Scott and my brother personal
intercourse had now ceased, 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.
' My 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
LE TTERS FR OM SCO TT. 219
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, 1 83 1, 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 whicli 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.
' I 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 VTII.
SOME REMINISCENCES — 1822 TO 1832.
"D O BERT'S success with the Traditions, and my owti
-'-^ 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 da-\vned.
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, fiom
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
5<9.1/^ REMiyiSCENCES. 221
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 wliich 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, perliaps, have risen to be
Lord Chancellor but for the fortunate sprain which
caused him to relinquish an intended visit, and return
home; a circumstance which brought him under the
notice of a maritime gentleman, whose case he took up,
mastered, and carried through triumphantly. But wc
must bear in mind that he had, by previous and toilsome
exertion, and no little self-sacrifice, prepared himself
to^benefit by the fortunate accident ~which brought
^
>ju
222 ' MEMOIR.
I 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
^A^t \ 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,
C y vve 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.
^ *vC 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, -S"
» -t 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 O
#j^-»^ from any cross-current. We were not, however, to be «
let off so easily. Fate had one more trial in reserve. , ^ —
/i' My father, who had come to live in Edinburgh, began "^"^
to take a lively interest in his sons, whose success was ~*^
so clearly imputable to the adroit way in which he had ^
thrown them on their own resources, and obliged them^^-?^
to think and act for themselves, that he had, as he thought, ~^
established a fair claim on their good offices. With this
agreeable notion, and wholly reckless of consequences, [j,
he plunged into a litigation, which I can refer to with ^
any degree of patience, only from the insight that ^
y was afforded of new and diverting phases of character. 1
^ K^ <}xA^t^ _ U l^kiJL u^jLc 'K^^ uw^ ;i^
j
>M.
CL.
A LEGAL ORACLE. 223
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 family, but had somehow been
suffered to drift, improperly, as was alleged, into other
hands. The property in question was a wretched
old house, perhaps not worth ;^2oo, and the pro-
posal 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 his-
tory 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 certain liquid exhil-
arants, in an inferior part of the city. Under the inspiring
counsels of this genius, the case ran its tourse tlirough
the court, producing the most agonising anticipations
of what was to be the result. As we had all foreseen,
my father lost his suit Then came the matter of costs.
224 MEMOIR.
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, or any other, obligation. Money that I could
ill spare was swept away, and Robert lost a large part
of what he had realised by selling the copyright and
stock of the Traditions to Mr Tait — a dismal outcome
of hopes, anxieties, and exertions, but not beyond what
has often to be endured. These losses kept us back one
or two years.
Now came a domestic tragedy, on which it would
be painful to linger. My unfortunate father went from
bad to worse after 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 reminis-
cences, ascribable in a great degree to his inconsid-
erateness and want of moral courage, he died — a
wreck — in November 1824, in the week of those 'con-
flagrations of which Robert has given some account.
Shortly after the issue of the Traditions, 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-
GAZETTEER OF SCOTLAND. 225
thing I know to the contrary, this little machine may
still be creaking and wheezing on the banks of the
Clyde, for, like many wlio 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 Scot/and. The work required considerable research
as well as personal knowledge, and the task was one
for which I avow myself to have been ill qualified. 1
sold it to a publisher for thirty pounds. It is now very
properly forgotten. IndependenUy 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 lor 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
l)laces 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
226 MEMOIR.
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
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
LITER A R Y EXERCISES. 227
at the desk for two to three hours after closing uj) lor
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
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 fomi 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 1 83 2.
A LTHOUGH, towards the close of the eighteenth
and in the early part of the present century,
books, chiefly reprints, were in time cheapened, and
greatly popularised by a series of enterprising pub-
lishers, and although books of all kinds were rendered
generally accessible by circulating libraries, the more
aspiring 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 of Scotland took the direction of
rh)aning 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 Esk-
dale, contributed verses to Ruddiman's Weekly Maga-
zine, under the signature of ' Eskdale Tani.' In one
of these compositions, which was addressed to Burns,
CHE A P LITER A TURE. 229
he sketched his own character, and the efforts he made
to improve his stock of knowledge by jjoring over
a borrowed volume, with no better light than what was
afforded by the cottage fire :
' Nor pass the tcntie 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.'
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 1S20, 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. The whole were
suppressed by a statute, imposing a stamp, 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 182 1. In 1822, a cheap weekly
sheet, styled the Mirror, was begun in London by John
Limbird, but with litde pretension to original writing.
It was illustrated with wood-engravings, was generally
amusing, and so far might be defined as a step in the
right direction.
From about this time, benevolently disposed anil
thoughtful men set about devising methods for improv-
ing the intelligence and |)rofessit>nal skill of artisans.
The School of Arts, the earliest of its class, was founded
230 MEMOIR.
in Edinburgh in 182 1. Two years later, Dr Birkbeck
founded a Mechanics' Institution in London, and another
in Glasgow. Coeval with this movement, tlie Society
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 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. The object of
the Society was to issue a series of cheap treatises on
the exact sciences, and on various branches of know-
ledge. In 1827, Archibald Constable, a man of bold
conceptions, commenced the issue of his Miscellany of
volumes of a popular kind ; and others catching the con-
tagion, for a time there was a perfect deluge of works,
at a moderate price, designed for the instruction and
amusement of the multitude.
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 tempo-
rary 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.
The reign of William IV. was the true era of the
revival of cheap periodical literature. So far as the
humbler orders were concerned, it almost appeared as
if the art of printing, through certain mechanical appli-
ances — 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. 231
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. Tliey
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, ^^■ith 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 deteniiined atlenipl
232 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, was shocked even at the very pro-
posal. With all 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 success, 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 corres-
pondents, the effect was on the whole beneficial.
The first number appeared on Saturday, the 4th of
February 1S32. It contained an opening address
written in a fervid state of feeling, as may be judged by
the following passages.
' The principle by which I have been actuated, is to
CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL BEGUN. 233
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 unassailcd, 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
234 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 thirty thousand
copies ; and shortly afterwards, when copies were con-
signed to an agent in London for dispersal through
England, the sale rose to upwards of fifty thousand, at
which it long remained. Some years afterwards, the cir-
culation exceeded eighty thousand. To the best of my
recollection, all the other cheap papers issued in Edin-
burgh 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 hap-
pened to hear of possessed a large pile of first numbers
of periodicals of which a second never appeared.
On the 31st of March 1832, being eight weeks
after the commencement of Chambers's Journal, ap-
peared the first number of the Fetmy Magazine of
the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. We
learn from Mr Charles Knight, its publisher, that the
Fetmy 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 Fenny Magazine, begun under such
distinguished auspices, and which, as is understood, had
a very large circulation, terminated unexpectedly in
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 235
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 witli their hands for their daily
bread. In a word, they may be supposed to have been
distasteful to the poi)ular 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
236 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. And the same thing may be confi-
dently afiirmed of the numerous publications of one
kind or other which we were afterwards enabled to
prepare and issue in furthering the cause we had espoused.
It is something to say with excusable pride, that 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, cir-
cumstances 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 "Oat 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 also without pecuniary obli-
gation was associated with me in the firm of VV. & R.
Chambers.
Had Chambers' s Jourml been commenced in London,
no mechanical difficulty would have been experienced.
The case was very different in Edinburgh, where, at the
2:,8 MEMOIR.
time, there were obstructions as regards both paper and
printing. John Johnstone, a genial old man, husband
of the authoress of Clati 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 o^vn 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 LABOUR. 239
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
sim.ilar ordeal.
The permanent hold on the public mind which the
Jotiriial 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
/ourtial, 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,
240 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 difiiculties, parti-
cularly those of a provincial situation, and a life too studious
and recluse to afi"ord 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 hmit 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. ii,\
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. In
a vehicle procured for the purpose, we followed in the
long funereal procession from Abbotsford, through the
villages of Damick and Melrose, and along the pictur-
esque road which, amidst hedgerows, conducts to the
umbrageous precincts of Dryburgh. All business was sus-
pended in the neighbourhood. At every side-avenue and
opening, stood a group of villagers, all apparently
impressed with a proper sense of the occasion. We felt
as if taking part in a historical pageant, amidst scenery for
ever embalmed in ballad and legend. At every successive
turn of the way appeared some object which Scott had
242 MEMOIR.
either loved because it was the subject of former song,
or rendered memorable by his own immortal verse. On
reaching the vicinity of Smailholm Tower, the scene of
his childhood was brought, after all the transactions of
a mighty and glorious life, into the same prospect as
his grave. The spectacle presented at the final solem-
nity — the large concourse of mourners clustered under
the trees and near the ruins of the abbey, the sonorous
reading of the funeral-service amidst the silent crowd,
and the gloomy atmosphere overhead — is one never
to be forgotten. Few among those present felt more
acutely than my brother; and when the coffin was
lowered into the tomb, his heart swelled with uncon-
trollable emotion.
Indebted to Sir Walter for so many kindnesses some
years previously, and in correspondence with him till
the close of 183 1, 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
as a hundred and eighty thousand copies.* It is referred
to in the following correspondence which my brother
opened with Allan Cunningham.
' 19 Waterloo Place, Edinburgh,
October ii, 1832.
* Sir — Conceiving that a proper opportunity has at length
arrived, I venture thus to break the charm — for such it
almost seems — which has so long kept you and me un-
* 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 TO ALLAN CUNNINGHAM. 243
acquainted with each other. Permit me, upon the strength
of our common regard for Scotland and her native literature,
to introduce myself to you, as the writer of a life of Sir
Walter Scott, just published in London and Edinburgh,
in connection with the journal conducted by my elder brother
and myself, and which, I am afraid, must interfere a little
with the success of your similar attempt in the AtJiaiccum.
However these publications may jostle each other, there is
no necessity for the authors being spited at each .other on
that account. I yield to your work the palm of eloquent
writing and poetical feeling, but my superior opportunities
have consoled me a little for that on the score of more
information, and also, perhaps, correctness as to facts. I
shall direct a copy of a second edition, in which there are
a few corrections, to be enclosed for you, so that you may
have the means of correcting your own work by it, in the
event of its appearing in any other shape. I also shall either
now send, or send soon, a volume of which I shall beg your
acceptance, as a mark of my esteem and admiration. It is
a selection of the Scottish ballads, in which many new ones
are made out by piecing fragments together, and here and
there adding a line or a verse. I look upon this work as
my best out of some five-and-twenty volumes ; but such
is the apathy of the public to this beautiful kind of poetry,
that no work of mine has been so little heard of. It cost me
exactly a month's work, though of course I could not have
done it in so short a time, if I had not been a profound
student of the native legendary poetry from my youth up.
Permit me to take this opportunity of expressing my
admiration of your numerous efforts in this branch of
composition. I think there is no kind of poetry that
could make such an impression on youthful minds as your
early ballads, which are published by Cromek. I have
often regretted that you conlincd yourself to such a limited
set of ideas and localities. You know you have quite tired
me of Criffel and Solway, but you know best how your
bonnet fits you. Still, 1 cannot but wonder that you have
244 MEMOIR.
not attempted to make something of modem society, and
of the scene in which you have spent so many of the latter
years of your life. — Believe me, sir, though personally un-
known to you, your sincere friend and fellow-countryman,
Robert Chambers.
'Allan Cunningham, Esq.
London.'
To this letter came the following genial reply :
' 27 Lower Belgrave Place,
I'jth 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 Pictu7-e 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, aitld-world, neiv-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 Avhat you feel
about it.
' I have been much pleased with your account of Sir
Walter Scott : it 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
LETTER FROM ALLAN' CUNNLNGHAM. 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 Chajnbers's yotirnal. 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.
' 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 Chambkrs, Esq.'
246 MEMOIR.
It was gratifying for us, as editors of Chambers's
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 dechne 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's 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 Jourtial , which
the editor, in his address, spoke of as being * similar
in point of size and variety to Chambers's Edinburgh
Journal, but with a character a little more southern and
Uterary.' Now that Mr Hunt and my brother have both
-48 MF.MOTR.
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 Jourtial,
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 yournal is so important an addition. In the
starting of Chainberis Edinburgh youriial, 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 CuAMiiKRS.
'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 compUmentary
remarks :
'4 Upper Cheynf, Row, Chelsea,
April 21, 1834.
'Mv 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 ever}' 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
L E TTER FROM L ETGH IIU.VT. 2 5 1
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 pubhc remarks on your letter, which was,
to express my hearty agreement with you as to the opinion
that pubhcations of this kind do no injury to one another.
But this was imphed in my address to the pubhc 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 Priniing 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 1
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.
T OOKING back to 1S33, 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 afl'airs. 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
Maclghose, the celebrated 'Clarinda' of Robert Burns.
Q
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 gepuinely 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. 25^
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, profes-
sedly 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 breakfast-
ing with his friends ; for, from his extreme good-nature,
and other agreeal)le 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, unsophisticated man as he
had been thirty years before, when tending his flocks
amongst his native hills. In the morning, perhaps, 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 B/ackwooifs Magazine, whom
he would keep in a roar till ten o'clock ; and then, re-
collecting another engagement, off he would set to some
256 MEMOIR.
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 Amhrosia7ia. In companies of this kind, he was
treated with such homage and kindness, that he usually
got into the highest spirits, 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 conse-
quence 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 Falstafif's celebrated tavern bill. To remedy
this in some degree, the honest Shepherd was accus-
tomed 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 acquaint-
ances 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.
CANDLEMAKER-R IV FESTIVA L. 257
the total number of his visitors would not probably be
few. In reality, it used to bring something like a High-
land 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 niglit 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 en-
deavour to introduce each to him separately, but would
be cut short by the lion with his bluff good-humoured
declaration: " Ou ay, we'll be a' weel acquent by
and by."
' 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 subsequently would be shewn into another bed-
room. 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, up-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 iwae-t/irce lads had been speaking of
sui)i)ing there that night. Watson, however, knew of
old what was meant by twac-thrcc, and had laid out his
largest room with a double range of tables, sufficient tu
2S8 MEMOIR.
accommodate some sixty or seventy people. Certain
preliminaries have in the meantime been settled in the
principal bedroom. 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 Ports-
burgh, 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 out of a table along the
side of the room. At length all is arranged \ and then,
what a strangely miscellaneous company 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 Lucken-
booths, 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
CANDLEMAKER-ROW FESTIVAL. 259
them ; and several dainty-looking youths, in white neck-
cloths 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-likc
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 sim-
plicity of his heart, all company seemed alike acceptable.
* When supper was finislied, the chairman proceeded
to the performance of his arduous duties. After the
approved fashion in municipal and other public con-
vivialities, he proposed, with all the honours, the King,
the Royal Family, the Navy and Army, and all the
other loyal a7id 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 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 circum-
stances 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
reail his works. He has had the merit of raising him-
26o MEMOIR.
self 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 Queen's 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 Sliepherd rose to make his usual
acknowledgment : " Gentlemen, 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 Com-
missioners 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
CANDLEMAKER-ROW FESTIVAL. z6i
merit the confidence of their constituents, and that,
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 aflairs 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 1 " (Great and prolonged
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 preamble 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 professional 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,
262 MEMOIR.
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 recom-
mendation from me, but which only requires to be
mentioned in order to call up all that feeling which
such a toast ever ought to call up — a toast, gentlemen,
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 unreasonable 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 contri-
bution, 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 ex-
tremities of the table are abandoned, and the thinned
host gathers in one cluster of intense fun and good-
fcllowism around the chair. Hogg now shines out for
CANDLEMAKER-ROW FESTIVAL. 263
the first time in all his lustre, tells stories, sings, and
makes all life and glee. The Laird d Lamington, the
Womeft Folk, and Faddy CRafferty, 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 amuse-
ment of an idle hour, some of the whimsical scenes
in which we have met James Hogg, let it not be sup-
posed that we think of him only with a regard to the
homely manners, the social good-nature, and the un-
important foibles, by which he was characterised. The
world amidst which he moved was but too apt, espe-
cially 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
* Since ihis was wriUcn, a inonuincnt to James Hogg has been
creeled in the Vale of Yarrow, at the head of St Mary's Loch, a
few miles from wliat had latterly been his residence.
264 MEMOIR.
lyre. The time will probably come when this inspired
rustic will be more justly appreciated.'
Sketches of this kind in a small unpretentious
periodical which affected no connection with the celeb-
rities of literature were unusual, and came upon the
public in the nature of a surprise. On very ordinary
topics, Robert, happily, brought to bear humour and
pathos in a way to excite the interest as well as the sym-
pathy of readers ; even when treating of what was repre-
hensible, he considerately made allowance for human
failings, and leant to the side of gentle forbearance.
The continued and very extraordinary success of
Chambers' s Journal brought on, as if by natural sequence,
fresh enterprises, to which, with some assistance, we could
give proper attention. In 1833, we projected and issued
the work styled Chambers's 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. 265
a translation appeared in Paris under the title of Instruc-
tion pour le Feuple. 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's 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 Einpire, and History of the Ettg/ish Language
a?id Literature, this being the first time that anything of
the kind had been attempted as a class-book. The
series now extends to upwards of a hundred volumes,
the diffusion of which has been greater than I care to
particularise.
To ac([uire 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. What fell under notice was described
in a Tour in Holland and the RJiine Countries (1839), and
it vindicated the j)lan which had been adopted in con-
structing 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 Poughkeepsic in
266 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 \he 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
I with whom I was ever acquainted whom I cannot meet
as a friend.'
LETTER FROM HUGH MILLER. 267
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 19th 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.
268 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 14th 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 c^uite 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."'
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 ENCYCLOPEDIA. 260
been, not only an early reader of, but a contributor of
interesting papers to, Chambers's Journai.
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 in 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 tlie less
affluent classes in the community. One of these under-
takings was Chambers's 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 Encyclopcedia^
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
R
270 MEMOIR.
considerably more than a hundred years since Ephrairn
Chambers gave to the world his Cydopcedia or Universal
Dictionary of Knoivledge — 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
encyclopsedia as a dictionary of reference is greatly
impaired, whatever be the advantages which on other
points are gained. The Germans, in their Conversatioiis
Lexicon, were the first to bring back the encyclopaedia to
its original purpose of a dictionary. The Penny Cyclo-
pcedia 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 Charnbcrs's Journal, we were
ANNUAL SOIREES. 271
fortunate in having a succession of able and zealous
literary assistants, to whom be every acknowledgment. So
aided, and with twelve printing-machines and a variety
of other apparatus set to work, there was at length a fair
average produce of fifty thousand sheets of one kind
or other daily. The concern might be called a great
book factory, or perhaps more properly, a literary
organisation, somewhat original in character. 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 soiree, 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
272 MEMOIR.
dcliglited the company with the song of the * Posie,' the
warbling of which sent the mind back to 1792, when
our 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.
A LTHOUGH diligently engaged in conducting
■^^- Chambers^s Jourtial, and aiding me in considering
matters requiring joint consideration, Robert did not
desist from miscellaneous literary undertakings. With
only intervals of indulgence in his cheerful social circle,
he was constantly occupied — sometimes on papers for
our periodical, sometimes on a book of an educa-
tional nature, and sometimes on miscellaneous works
involving much thought and labour. Going off occa-
sionally on an excursion to the west of Scotland, he
completed, in conjunction with Professor Wilson, an
elaborate work on the Land of Bur }is, 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 Cyclopccdia of Em^Iish
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
274 MEMOIR.
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
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.'
The work to be executed was the first of its kind.
There existed various collected specimens from the
writings of eminent British authors, with and without
critical remarks, but until now nothing of a cyclopedic
character had been attempted. It being impossible,
with all my brother's self-sacrificing diligence, to execute
so onerous a task single-handed, he besought and
received the aid of his friend, Dr Robert Carruthers of
Inverness, who, both by his literary tastes and profes-
sional pursuits, was eminently qualified to co-operate in
the undertaking. Completed in two volumes octavo,
and issued in 1844, the Cydopcedia 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. A new edition, consider-
ably extended, was lately prepared by. Dr Carruthers,
and is now published.
In the framework of this work may be recognised
the deep aftection with which Robert regarded the
CYCLOPAEDIA OF LITERATURE. 275
compositions of many of our popular writers. Speaking
of these productions in a paper styled, ' What English
Literature gives us,' he says truly : * English literature
gives all who can enjoy it a fund of pleasure, of the
great amount of which we are not apt to be quite aware
till we run over a few of the items. There are the
Waverley Novels — in direct contemplation, only the
talk of an old-fashioned Scotch gentleman, who died a
few years ago — or, in a still more gross consideration,
but a few masses of printed paper. Yet, in effect, what
are they ! To how many thousands upon thousands
has hfe been made less painful or more delightful by
these charming tales ! The world would have gone on
without them, no doubt, but it would not have gone on
so agreeably. There would have been an infinite deal
less happiness in it during the last twenty-five years, if
they had not been written. How much has been done
for our enjoyment even by one or two of the characters
— Caleb Balderstone, for instance, or Dugald Dalgetty,
or Dominie Sampson. These are ideal beings, but do
we not feel positively richer by knowing them — by having
it in our power at any time to call them up before our
minds, and inwardly smile at what is ludicrous about
them ? In like manner, is it not a luxurious sympathy
which we feel respecting the fortunes of Ravenswood,
all imaginary as he is. These beings take their place
among our acquaintance, and the most delightful of all
acquaintance they are. We have only to take up a
book, and lo ! we mingle at once in their society, as if
unconsciously carried into it through the air. Such
books are as show-holes in the walls of this common
world, through which to look into one full of the gay,
the romantic, and the beautiful. The blind may be
276 MEMOIR.
slipped aside, and our eye applied, in the smokiest of
cottages, as in the most gorgeous of palaces, and the
fairy scene will be the same in each case. And we
command the show at any time. It will lull us after the
excitement and fatigues of labour, and it will beguile us
of the languor of monotonous retirement and solitude.
We may be sad or joyous, eager and full of hope, or
mistrustful of all the good things of life ; but our acci-
dental mood is of no consequence when we have once
fixed ourselves at the raree-show of the Waverley fictions,
for then all of ourselves sinks, except the consciousness
of great enjoyment.' And so on he runs over many of
our popular prose and poetic fictions, pointing out their
value as an imperishable inheritance.
Of Scottish songs and ballads, Robert had a volumi-
nous collection, which he esteemed as a literary treasure.
In 1844, while engaged on the Cyclopcedia, he took a
fancy for securing the airs to those Border ballads which
were still uncollected. In this object he was aided by
the singing of various ballads by persons acquainted
with Liddesdale — one of them, the late John Shortrede
of Jedburgh, a son of Sir Walter Scott's friend of that
name. The result was the printing for private circulation
of Twelve Romantic Scottish Ballads, with the Original
Airs — a brochure now exceedingly scarce.
A general desire being expressed to possess my
brother's essays and some other productions in a separate
form, they were collected and published, 1847, under
the title of Select Writings, in seven volumes, for which
several characteristic illustrations were furnished by
David Roberts, R.A., and others. A copy having been
presented by the author to his friend, D. M. Moir — the
* Delta ' of Blackiuood — it was acknowledged as follows :
SELECT WRITINGS. 277
* 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.'
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
Unhapijiness,' ' The House of Numbers,' * The Uncon-
fined,' ' Danger of Appearing Ill-used,' ' The Down-
draught,' &c. In a preceding chapter, a specimen of
the more humorous class of papers is given in 'The
Candlemaker-Row Festival.'
The essay on the ' Danger of Appearing Ill-used,' was
partly suggested by personal experiences. My brother
and I had early discovered the advantage of taking
everything in a placid, or at least unresentful spirit of
endurance. Often we had occasion to laugh at, as well
as compassionate, men who seriously injured themselves
in general esteem by iterating troublesome complaints
278 MEMOTR.
of misusage ; and felt convinced that, ill possibly as such
persons had been treated, it would on the whole have
been better for them to remain discreetly silent — a cir-
cumstance reminding us, that in the injunction, 'whoso-
ever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the
other also,' there is wrapt up a sound philosophy which
the world has been slow to recognise. Conversations
with Robert on this subject, led him to write the essay
in question, from which, for the sake of the advices it
offers, a few passages may be quoted.
DANGER OF APPEARING ILL-USED,
'It is extremely dangerous for any one who wishes to
make his way in the world, to appear ill-used — it is so sure
to afford some presumption not quite favourable to him.
The clever, the well-born, the wealthy, the agreeable — all
whom nature or accident has placed in a situation to be
looked up to or courted by their fellow-creatures — rarely
have any occasion to describe themselves as ill-used. It is
the opposite classes in general who are not well used by
their fellow-creatures — the stupid and troublesome, because
nobody can endure them ; the poor and lowly, because no-
body cares anything about them. Such has been the way
of the world since its beginning, and all our associations
are formed accordingly. Hence, when any one is heard
complaining of being ill-used, he is more apt to be set down
as one of the latter than of the former classes — a circum-
stance which may be in no respect discreditable to him, but
which, nevertheless, is not likely to be favourable to his
prospects. No matter how real may be the wrongs he has
suffered, or how eminently entitled they may be to sympathy.
Few have opportunities of becoming satisfied of their
reality ; and even if sympathy be extended, it does no good.
The general impression is bad, and he finds too late that,
by complaining of ill-usage, he has only put himself in the
way of continuing to be ill-used.
\
ILL-USED PEor^pig 279
* Of all the evils which arise from litiga.-on, decidedly the
worst is the effect which it sometimes has /"' putting vcvcn
into the position of ill-used people. Most men who think
themselves wronged by law and lawyers have the good
sense to absorb the injury, and appear as if they felt it nOw
But there are a few natures which do not easily brook wrong.
These persons, foolishly thinking to avenge or redress them-
selves by an appeal to the world, trumpet forth their injuries
wherever they go, and make themselves intolerable to all
around them, by long recitals of their case in all its details.
They take on the character of ill-used people, and soon ex-
perience the natural consequences in the cold regards of
their fellow-creatures. It is of course horridly base for those
who once smiled upon them in prosperity, now to shun
them in their adversity ; but the plain truth is, that it is not
in human nature long to endure a man who is always telling
how ill he has been used.
' Let no one, then, who wishes to attain or prescr\'e a
respectable place in the world, ever appear as if he had been
ill-used. If a young man of business, let him never tell that
he has been cheated or worsted in any sort of way, for then
he will appear as having been ill-used. If a young artist,
let him never breathe a word as to the prejudice or ill-will
of "that hanging committee," in putting his pictures up at
the ceiling or down at the floor, for then he will be con-
fessing that he has been ill-used. If a candidate for an
office or place of any kind, let him carefully avoid all
complaint as to the suppression of his testimonials, or the
start allowed to his rivals in the canvass, for then he
will be owning to ill-usage. If a wooer, let him utter no
whisper of jilting or rejection, unless he be able to tell
at the same moment with a cheerful face, that, while
ill-used by one lady, he has been well-used by another.
In short, let no man who values his prospects in this
world, ever, by word, deed, or sigh, allow it to be supposed
that he has ever been, is now, or believes he ever can be,
ill-used.'
28o MEMOTR.
Whatever wa'^ the deptli of thought required in the
compositior; of Robert's essays, they were for the most
part Ayritten at a sitting, and needed scarcely any
correction. Many were composed at spare intervals in
the course of a journey. One of his best articles was
written off-hand in an inn at Dundee, while waiting an
hour for a stage-coach to take him up the Carse of
Gowrie. Perhaps in the whole round of his four to
five hundred essays and sketches, none was more
appreciated for the delicacy of its conceptions than one
which he designated ' Idea of an English Girl.' It
might almost be conjectured that his fanciful notions on
this idyllic theme, 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 tender-
ness 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. 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 literary
CONVERSAZIONES. 281
occupations with writing pieces of verse concerning his
children — the daughters, of course, coining in for the
largest share of these rhyming fancies.
In 1840, Robert was elected a member of the Koyal
Society of Edinburgh, from which time to 185O he
carried on an extensive epistolary correspondence \vitil
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 mth Sir Charles Bell, George
Combe, his brother Dr Andrew Combe, Dr Neil
Amott, 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 geo-
logical investigations, which introduced him to another
class of inquirers. Returning to Edinburgh, and resid-
ing 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 dis-
closed on the face of a huge boulder by the cutting
of the Queen's Drive on Arthur's Seat. AV^ith sucli
282 MEMOIR.
phenomena a^ 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
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 Ire-
land; 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 ' par-
allel roads of Glenroy,' which, by inveterate legend, had
been represented as pathways constructed for the Fin-
gallian 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 Buck-
land, and Mr Lyell, the ' roads ' were imputed to glacial
action. Mr Danvin 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 retrocessions
of the sea at an early period of the earth's history.
T.TFE-ASSURANCE. 2S3
Such views coincided with those of my brother, who,
besides accompanying Mr Milne on some of his explora-
tions, went alone to Glenroy, and made minute investi-
gations all over the district, as will be seen by his work,
Anciefit Sca-Margijis (1848), in which the whole subject
is treated with his usual lucidity.
To carry out the explorations which ensued in the
above work, he was impelled to attempt a remedy for
that ill-executed surgical operation on his feet shortly
after his birth, and which had entailed years of suffer-
ing. A fresh operation performed by that eminent
surgeon. Professor James Syme, proved altogether suc-
cessful Robert was ever afterwards able to encounter
the fatigues incidental to pedestrian excursions, and to
go with more cheerfulness into general society.
He became an untiring advocate of the principles of
life-assurance, on which subject he wrote a tract, in the
form of a familiar dialogue, that, issued at a small price,
had a circulation of several hundred thousand copies.
The explanations offered did much to stimulate life-
assurance among certain classes in the community; and
of this we had numerous and gratifying proofs. Robert
did not confine himself to theory. As an insurer for the
benefit of his family, he connected himself with an emi-
nently well-managed and trustworthy institution, the
Scottish Equitable Life Assurance Society, in which
he became a director, and regularly attended the meet-
ings, unless when absent on his explorations.
On the occasion of an annual dinner of the directors
of the Assurance Society, 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 the following rhymed epistle,
284 MEMOIR.
addressed to W. S. Wcilker of Bowland, with whom, as
a co-director, he should that day have dined :
EPISTLE BY A DISTRESSED DIRECTOR.
' 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 ! '
In his numerous excursions, whether connected with
geology or objects of historical and antiquarian interest,
Robert made many friends. One of these was the
late John M'Diarmid, editor of the Diunfries Courier.,
Of this estimable literary man, my brother gleefully
related an anecdote, which is here subjoined from his
uncollected writings.
JOHN M'DIARMTD. 2S5
* Mr M'Diarmid is one of those ingenious writers
who gather a fund of information by the means recom-
mended 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 miscel-
laneous group of travellers and villagers was assembled
around a blazing fire ; in particular, there was one
person present, a poor wayworn being, who, in his
youth, had been a cork-cutter. To him M'Diarmid
forthwith 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! " '
In the summer of 184S, Robert went eagerly off on
a visit to 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
2S6 MEMOIR.
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 carrioles, 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's
Journal at the close of 1849 and beginning of 1850,
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.
Speaking of the climate at Trondhiem, which is placed
somewhere in the sixty-third parallel, and therefore
about the same latitude with the south of Iceland, he
says : ' An Englishman naturally expects to find it a
place of cold and harsh appearance, possibly occupied
by people wearing skin-dresses, with the wool inner-
most; whereas, everything looks pretty and in good
order, the ladies and gentlemen as well dressed as those
of any town of its size in England. As regards climate,
I can testify that, on the 17th July, it was barely pos-
sible to walk the streets during the day on account of
the intense heat' In proceeding from this place to
Hammerfest by steamer, he landed on the occasion of
a young gentleman, a native, reaching home, and here
he was struck with the kindly manners of the people.
* The simplicity, united with education and good
manners, recalled the pleasant pictures which Johnson
A VISIT TO NORWAY. 287
and Bosvvell give of the life and state of the Hebridcan
gentry — the Macleans and Macleods of seventy years
ago ; pictures which, I may remark, are rapidly attaining
a historical value. Unaffected kindness beamed in the
foces of all towards the strangers, and when we came
away, they accompanied us to our boats.'
These accounts of the Norwegians form the most
agreeable part of the narrative. A few passages may
be presented descriptive of a scene when boating with
some fellow-travellers in the Altenfiord :
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 talc
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 cither hand. A good-looking man, in the prime of life,
leans over the rail at the wharf to receive us as we land.
288 MEMOIR.
We are met by him with a few courteous words in Enj^lish ;
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.
' After the refreshment of tea — for we had taken a good
luncheon at sea — we went out to examine the neighbouring
A NORWEGIAN FAMILY. 289
grounds, and soon ascertained that a terrace of dctrital
matter and blocks goes entirely roinid 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 rocL 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 hke 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 tunc 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
Scottishuian from his earliest sense— to myself, fur instance,
290 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 Wi'/e, 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 aftection, 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 ^vith 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. 291
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 1851. It was
well received, and passed through several editions, to
suit different classes of purchasers.
Some years previously, in a great degree through
the energetic efforts of my brother, 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 ; the government in this respect making
up, as it were, for neglect on the score of Bums. To
add to the pension, he set on foot the collection of
a fund, which was moderately successful. In writing
from Edinburgh, May 4, 1842,10 his wife at St Andrews,
he says : ' On Monday, the first-fruits of my applica-
tion for Bums'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 a young American friend
who had lately been in Scotland, he says : ' I am glad
you saw old Mrs Bcgg, 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
292 MEMOIR.
about a fortnight ago, W. & R. C. liad the pleasure
of 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
accumulating 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 dis-
tinct 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.'
Except in this private way, my brother, who
modestly shrunk from all parade, never spoke of
what he had helped to do for the poor and, in all
respects, deserving relations of Burns. His exertions
and liberal gift remained almost unnoted until unex-
pectedly referred to in the Household Words of Mr
Dickens ; the article on the occasion being a notice of
the Burns' Centenary Commemoration at Edinburgh, in
1859. The following paragraph from the article appeared
in The Times, on the loth February of that year :
Robert Burns and Robert Chambers. — The claim of
our Edinburgh friends to be called out for favourable dis-
tinction, arises, in our estimation, from the circumstance
that one man happened to be present who has done some-
thing for the memory of Burns besides talk about it. Among
the list of toasts and speeches we find just two lines
reporting that the company drank 'The Biographers of
BURNS' SISTER, MRS BEGG. 293
Burns/ and that Mr Robert Chambers acknowledged the
toast. What Mr Robert Chambers said for Burns on this
occasion is not mentioned in the report \vo read. The
infinitely more important question of what he has done for
Burns, we are in a position to answer without referring to
reports. About seventeen years ago a grateful country had
left Burns' sister, Mrs Begg, and her daughters in most
impoverished circumstances, and Mr Robert Chambers set
on foot a subscription for them. The result of the appeal
thus made, and of a solemn Branch Burns' Commemoration,
got up in Ayrshire, was a subscription amounting to some-
thing less than ^400, of which the queen and court gave
£fi\. As much was done with this pittance as could be
done ; and it was sunk in an annuity for the three poor
souls to live upon. Mrs Begg and her daughters were
settled in a cottage in Ayrshire. Mr Robert Chambers
then went bravely to work with his own hands and brains to
help Burns' kindred for Burns' sake. After devoting
admirable industry and research to the task, he produced
The Life and Poems of Burns, in four volumes ; published
the work in 1851, and devoted the first proceeds of the sale,
£200, to the necessities of Mrs Begg and her daughters —
thus giving from his own individual exertion more than
half as much as the entire sum which all Scotland had
given. — Dickens' Household Words.
Immediately on the publication of the above, a note
was written to my brother by Leigh Hunt. It c;ame
into my hands only lately, and is too characteristic to
be omitted : it was as follows :
' Hammersmith, Feb. i \th.
'Dear RorERT Chambers — You must take this, please,
as a postscript to my last; so that you need not put your-
self to the trouble of a reply ; but I could not help adding it,
to tell you how delighted I was at seeing last night in Tiie
Times the passage extracted from Household Words,
respecting your Life and Wor^s of B ions, and what you did
294 MEMOIR.
with it for the poet's family. These are things which bring
tears of admiration into one's eyes. I never heard of the
circumstance before, or I should have spoken of it. It did
not surprise me, for I already believed you to be a man
capable of such things ; but it is affecting to see realised
what one believes in. I often wish that half-a-dozen people
whom I could choose, lived near one another, and could thus
make each life half-a-dozen times what it is. I venture to
say (for I suppose myself admitted to their society) that I
should never give them a moment's pain, except for some
grief common to all mortals, or for the approach of my own
death ; and I feel sure they would give no other to myself.
I shall see the whole article to-night in Household Words,
which always come to me by the last Friday post ; but I
could not wait. Your affectionate friend,
Leigh Hunt.'
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 Thar, 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 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 bivouac 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. 295
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, entided
Tracings in Iceland and the Faroe Islands, was published
in 1856.
A number of years had elapsed since he wrote a
llislory 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
29fi 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 — tlie 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 WTitings for
Chambers' s /ouniai.
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. 297
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-^-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.
* 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 wliirh
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
298 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, 14th February 1859, on the
subject of ' Edinburgh Merchants and Merchandise in
Old Times,' which gratified a very numerous audience,
and was aftenvards 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 Innen\ack 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. 299
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 gendeman,
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 :
300 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 VI IL
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 wTote an introduc-
tory notice to a volume purporting to be the Memoirs
of a Bankifig-Ziouse, 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
S/Za WILLIAM FORBES. 301
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 apj)rcntice 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 1S22, at about ninety years of age; his
T
302 MEMOIR.
youngest daughter Sophia, married to Sir Francis
Burdctt, being mother of the much-esteemed Baroness >C
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 186 1 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. 303
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 centurj' —
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
Dauiihter :
304 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, v/as 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 LONDON. 305
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 \vife, effected his long-
desired visit to the United States in i860, 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.
3o6 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 Athenasum, 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 levee 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 YS. 307
was generally perched on her shoulder, when seated
under the trees.
'During the ^vinter of 1861-2, my father spent a
large part of his time at the Athenreum, 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
soire'es 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-
3o8 MEMOIR.
oured to make up for lost time by excessive labour at
the Book of Days, wliich, wherever lie 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,
he 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, nis
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. 309
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 attractions, 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 daughter — his windows over-
looking the Firth of Tay, and the celebrated Bell-rock
Light-house Hashing 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.
'HPHERE 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. 31 1
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 stranjie about it. The originator
312 MEMOIR.
of tlie Edinburgh Review has come to see the originator
of the Edinburgh Journal.^
I felt honoured by the remark, and deHghted beyond
measure witla 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, iabora,' 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
Af/SS MITFORD. 313
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 Hterary object in view. While residing in London
in 1847, I was honoured \vith 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
l:)Ooksellcr 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,
314 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 ISIettray
— 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 j o^ 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 complace-ncy 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
SOCIE TY IN PA RIS. 3 1 5
young Frenchman, son of a noted revolutionist during
the Reign of Terror, who had aftenvards 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 stnick, 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 LockharL
Sir Adam was a son of Professor Ferguson, author of
31 6 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. Wliile 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 Waverley ; 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 entliusiastic admirer
SIR ADAM FERGUSON. 317
of the Scottish melodies. On one occasion, when
sitting in a state of entrancement 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 Dwarfs 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 1 parted with Sir Adam.
Afterwards, I saw him several times in l^dinburgh. 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 advantxige of
blending with professional pursuits that amount of
i;
3i8 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, on whose fidelity we
thought we might 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. 319
agency, had reaped a profit from it of not less than
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 arc 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 tvvo 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 ?
320 MEMOIR.
The banks, somehow, fail to monopohse 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 — ^joUy, 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
DEA Til OF JAMES KING. 321
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 j'
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
322 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.
An incident in strange contrast to some events re-
corded in the early part of these reminiscences, and
which occurred very unexpectedly without any wish on
my part, was my election to the office of Lord Provost
of Edinburgh in 1865. Through a second election in
1868, I occupied the office altogether for four years ; it
was voluntarily resigned by me in 1869. Regarding
this period of public service, which formed an inter-
esting episode in a usually quiet life, the circumstance
on which I have most reason to reflect with satisfaction,
is that of having projected and obtained an act of parlia-
ment for effecting a much wanted sanitary and general
improvement of the older part of the city. Another
incident, never for a moment anticipated, was the
offer by the University of Edinburgh of conferring on
me the honorary degree of LL.D., which was bestowed
in a way too complimentary to be declined, or readily
forgotten, in 1872,
While giving some attention to Chambers^ s Journal,
now in its forty-seventh year, it may be permitted me
to mention that I was able to add a few books to
the list already noted : The Youth's Companion and
Counsellor, i860; Something 0/ Italy, 1862; Ifistory of
Peeblesshire, i?>64t; IViiitering in Mentone, 1870; France:
its History and Revolutions, 1871; Chambers s Social
Science Tracts, designed to disseminate useful informa-
tion among the working-classes on subjects connected
UNEXPECTED HONOURS. 323
with Social, Political, and Sanitary Economy; the
present Memoir, 1872, and Ailie Giiroy, a Scottish
story, which appeared shortly afterwards. Some books
printed for private circulation do not require to be
particularised.
It is not for me to say a single word regarding the
influence which Chambers's Journal and other publi-
cations, 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. Neither — though such might not be uninterest-
ing in some points of view — do 1 purpose to offer any
details regarding the magnitude of the circulation of
the various works in which our names have been and
still remain mutually associated. What, however, I am
bound above all things to do, is to express the sense
of obligation felt by my brother during his declining
years, and not less vividly entertained by myself, for
those gratifying demonstrations of good feeling show-
ered from all quarters in acknowledgment of ' labours,'
which should more correctly be defined as ' pleasures,'
extending over the greater part of a lifetime. In laying
down the pen, what satisfaction can be greater than
that of having been a pioneer in that chea]) literature
movement, which, under a variety of conditions and
auspices, has proved one of the conspicuous engines of
social improvement in the nineteenth century.
CHAPTER XIV.
ROBERTS CLOSING YEARS, DEATH, AND CHARACTER.
/^~^HANGE 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 one or other of his married daughters. At
the new-year, as long as he was able, he made an
agreeable excursion across the Tay to Fingask
Castle, in the Carse of Gowrie, 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
LIFE AT ST ANDREWS. 325
St Andrews. In it he constantly received company,
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 HI. This
was the last of my brother's printed productions, and
with it his literary career closes.
326 MEMOIR.
Those who were unacquainted with his private habits
of thought may be surprised to know that, in his latter
days, he wrote a number of prayers, and graces to be
said at meals, all breathing the purest religious spirit.
He began \ht Life and Freachings 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
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, as already stated, he entertained a great
affection.
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 spirituaHsm,' 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 too much to the side of
credulity.
Among the papers amassed by my brother, some old
A CATECHIS.V. 327
and some new, we have the evidence of a mind that
for half a century had never been free from some
kind of hterary 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
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 recollec-
tion.
With a memory so stored, and of untiring industry,
he was always writing down odds and ends, as if assem-
bling materials for books, which years would have been
required to execute. From desultory thoughts on a
variety of secular subjects in prose and verse, my
brother seems to have turned to those literary exercises
of a religious nature already specified. The last of
these productions appears to have been the catechism
for the young, which, like some other compositions,
was left unfinished. Though fragmentary, this tract
affords a good insight into the writer's love of truth,
his acute sense of duty, and regard for the rights of
others. I can only quote a few sentences respecting
duties in affairs of state. They bear the true ring of my
brother's upright character.
' 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 creatine: some decree of suffering, which is liable
328 l\rEMOTR.
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 destruction. 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 unfortunately 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.'
The year 1S70 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 iSth 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
LAST ILL.VESS. 329
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
accomj)anied Mrs Dowie to her home at ^Vest 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 ot natural history that had
recently been brought to light. Before returning home,
he once more visited a daughter in London, and also
his surviving sister, Mrs Wills, at Sherrards, in Hertford-
shire, where he greatly enjoyed the beauty of a quiet
330 MEMOIR.
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
DEATH AND FUNERAL. 331
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, 12th 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 15th, 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 Ma<:pher-
soris 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 17 th March, he gently breathed
his last'
At this mournful juncture, I had gone to T.ondon
on account of the illness of my youngest brother,
David, whose health had for some time been in a
critical condition, partly from distress at the death of
his wife, but principally the result of tastes and habits
which had wholly undermined his constitution. He was
now in so very delicate a state, that intelligence of the
death of Robert brought on a severe paroxysm, whicli
332 MEMOIR.
terminated in his decease on the 21st March. David
possessed some estimable quahties, and was a general
favourite, but his business career was disappointing.
He was very much a repetition of my father — kind
and genial, with an exquisite taste for music, sang the
Scottish songs beautifully, and was ready on all occa-
sions to help in charitable undertakings. Unfortu-
nately for himself, he came upon the stage of existence
after tlie family struggle was over, and never experi-
enced any of those difficulties to which Robert and I
were in our early days exposed, and which, as has been
seen, helped to impart a knowledge of the world, and
more particularly a knowledge of the value of steadily
persevering industry and thrift. I will not dwell on
the distressful fact of losing two brothers within the
short space of four days, and of having thereby to
undertake responsibilities demitted by their decease.
Of the last distressing scene at the death of poor
David, I was not a witness, for I had been called to St
Andrews to assist at the funeral of my brother Robert.
This solemnity took place on the 2 2d ; 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 interment
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 sympathis-
FUNERAL SERMONS. 333
ing crowd, and with the last offices of tlie 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 the following remarks on the deceased :
*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
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 " sen-ed 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 literature,
which, though not coming under the special denomination
334 MEMOIR.
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
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
PRIVATE CHARACTER. 335
it appeared to himself and his family, of that species
of excessive literary labour which, by overtasking the
nervous system, often proves so fatal. Of the esteem
generally entertained for him in his private character, I
do not propose to dilate. His genial and kindly dis-
position, 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 newspaper in the old Conservative interest, but
his politics 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 com and other elements of food, he con-
sidered to be not only a prodigious economic blunder,
but a great national crime. His generosity in extending
aid to the needy and deserving was a marked trait in
his character ; and so was his frugality. Liberal in his
dealings, munificent in his donations, he spent little
on himself — did not indulge in costly amusements or
luxuries. While freely giving a cheque for a large
sum to advance some charitable object, he would
grudge small outlays on any matter purely personal,
except, perhaps, the purchase of books, on which he
expended considerable sums.
He never forgot old friends, no matter what was
their rank in life, and many who had been less fortunate
than himself he privately and delicately assisted.
Among these was * Leila,' who, in life's young dream,
he had glowingly celebrated in verse, and who, as has
been stated, was led to contract a marriage which, while
336 MEMOIR.
frustrating my brother's hopes, proved particularly unfor-
tunate to herself. His early attachment to Lelia sobered
down in after years to a friendly interest in her hapless
fate. As a widow in reduced circumstances, she was
indebted to his considerately administered bounty. In
his latter days, when broken down in health, he paid her
what might be termed a farewell visit. Both were on the
verge of the grave, and the interview, as I have under-
stood, was correspondingly affecting. It brought up
a crowd of reminiscences almost too choking for utter-
ance. What, in losing him, through the well-meant but
indiscreet decision of her mother, had she not suffered
— reverse of fortune, and its manifold attendant ills,
from which she might otherwise have been exempt !
Holding out his hand, which she clasped for the last
time, she dropped on it an involuntary tear ! It was a
j parting salutation. They never saw each other again.
i-^ ' The final chapter in a sorrowful romance was closed.
sJ Lelia was not forgotten in my brother's will. He left her
a provision sufficient for her moderate wants ; but this
she did not live to enjoy. She survived her early admirer
and benefactor only the short space of three months.
My brother's scientific and literary tastes led him to
be elected a Fellow of several learned Societies, in the
proceedings of which, more particularly the Royal
Society of Edinburgh, he occasionally took a prominent
part. He was also, as stated, a member of the Athe-
naeum Club, where he spent much of his time when in
London in converse with valued literary friends.
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 dishonourable. If, in any of these
EARLY LOVE OF BOOKS. 337
respects, he sometimes cherished resentments that,
founded on misconception and prejudice, had belter
have been forgotten, it is allowable to think that such
feelings might fairly be imputed to an overwrought
susceptibility of temperament not common in the
ordinary walks of life.
In the common language of the world, Robert's life
had been 'successful.' From humble beginnings, he had
risen to the enjoyment of a fair share of earthly posses-
sions. Let it, however, be understood that he never
sought to acquire wealth for its own sake. He had a
hatred of mere money-making. Life with him, as I may
say with myself, was viewed as a trust for much more
noble ends than that of miserly accumulation. At the
outset, as has been seen, we had both to encounter some
privations, but the struggle was by no means either dis-
couraging or cheerless. Sustained by an earnest reso-
lution to rise, if possible, above the position in which
we had been plunged by family disasters, there was an
ever present, an unextinguishable impulse upwards.
Excelsior ! — the very difficulties to be overcome being
in themselves a discipline and means of making us
usefully acquainted with a variety of amusing character
and incident.
Nor should I omit another sustaining influence.
Robert and I had from boyhood a keen love of, a
veneration for, books. We revelled in imaginative, as
well as in the more serious kinds of literature. Poetry
and old ballads and legends were our early as well
as our later solace. In looking back through a long
vista of years to the ' Dark Ages,' I cannot but think
that this species of enjoyment was not only actively,
but negatively advantageous. There was always for
338 MEMOIR.
us something to think of, besides ordinary cares, some-
thing to modify and subdue the temptation to mean
indulgences. The spare nooks of the mind were kept
tenanted by elevating emotions. Poor we were, but
so far as the pleasures of reading were concerned, we
might be said to be almost on a level with the affluent.
Obscure as was our lot, we were enabled, as it were,
to come into the presence, and be impressed with the
ideas of the great writers of our country. This constant
converse with men of literary renown through their
printed productions, no doubt helped greatly to prepare
Robert, despite his imperfect education, for his future
career, and for gaining that general estimation to which
he happily attained. To the young and friendless,
therefore, his life ought to be alike instructive and
inspiriting.
Yet, in the story of this humble and ambitious student,
there is really nothing new. You will find the same
tale told in proverbs and apologues thousands of years
old ; the value of diligent application associated with
integrity and a cultivation of the nobler sentiments
of our nature. From first to last — in early life especially
— he offered in his own person an example of one who,
in all matters of importance, practised the maxim,
Trust to yourself. In this spirit, he wrote one of his
best moral essays, shewing that the only true way to
make a happy progress through the world, is to go on
in a dogged, persevering pursuit of one good object,
asking no favours, neither courting any special patronage,
nor relying on counsels which may be worthless. The
principles which he and I laid down could not, un-
fortunately, be always adhered to without inflicting a
degree of pain on ourselves and others. From the outset,
LITER A R V CHAR A C TER. 339
we resolved never to allow our names to be employed
in connection with undertakings which did not meet
our approval, and over which we could exercise no
personal supervision. Unpleasant, if not harsh, as such
a rule may appear, it would be better for the com-
mercial world were it more generally acted upon.
Actuated by correct and generous impulses, Robert's
career afforded a lesson not only to the young, but to the
middle-aged. The talents which had been beneficently
given him were employed not alone for his own benefit;
they were exercised for the welfare and happiness of
others. On all occasions, he assiduously exercised the
moral and intellectual faculties, with such development
for practical ends as the circumstances of his position
admitted. There was furthermore a purity, a simplicity,
a geniality about his whole career, which we do not
often see so consistently or so amiably demonstrated.
In youth, in manhood, and in declining age, in all the
social phases through which he passed, he was ever the
same gentle and benign being — loved and esteemed by
all who knew him.
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
340 MEMOIR.
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 Rehellio7i 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 Motcrningj^ 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.
LITERARY CHARACTER. 34"
with those minute and graphic details which add life,
and spirit, and individuality to the pages of Macaulay
and Froude. 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 happily 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
342 MEMOIR.
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.
The patient investigation, long journeys, and careful
accumulation of facts employed in establishing his geo-
logical theories, indicate 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 illustrated 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.
Referring to my brother's services to geology, Mr
Prestwich, President of the Geological Society, in his
anniversary address to the Society, 1872, observes:
'In 1852, Mr Robert Chambers published a paper on
" Glacial Phenomena in Scotland and Parts of England,"
in which he was, if not the first, one of the first, to
maintain that while our lake district had been the seat_
of local glaciers, each of which moved do\\'n its respect-
ive valley, the glaciation of Scotland had been far more
general, more like that of Greenland at present. He
shewed the prevalence, over all the north of Scotland,
of striae having a general direction north-west and south-
east, passing over high hills and traversing the valleys,
LITER A R V CHAR A CTER. 343
independently of the configuration of the country ; and
he considers that this points to a wide extension of the
circum-polar ice, with a southward movement of it over
the greater part of Scotland. To the abrasion caused
by this enormous mass of ice, he was disposed to
attribute, not only the rounded form of many of the
hills, but the excavation of many of the valleys ; while
he assigned to a later period, the more local radiating
valley system of glaciers. He instanced, in support of
these views, similar phenomena in Scandinavia, where
the glaciation has also been general, and passed over
tracts four thousand feet in height. In 1848, his well-
known work on Ancient Sea-Margins appeared. . . .
Much as we may differ from the author on the extent of
his generalisation and number of sea-levels, the work is
full of interesting facts and descriptions, collected with
great .care and labour, which cannot fail to be useful to
future observers. ... His later descriptive works,
Tracifigs of the North of Europe, Tracings of Iceland,
and others, are full of excellent observations relating to
various geological questions connected with the glacial
and other phenomena of the Quaternary period.'
As regards Robert's Cyclopedia of English Literature,
his Life and Writings of Burns, his Domestic Annals of
Scotland, his Book of Days, and the lesser works he pro-
duced, sufficient has perhaps been said in the course of
this Memoir. On none of his later works did he look
back with so much heartfelt pleasure and satisfaction, and
none deserves greater praise for its remarkable fidelity,
than that concerning Robert Burns. Here, for the first
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
344 MEMOIR.
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 de-
tached 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.
W. C.
yaiiiiary, 1873.
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER
1865— 18S3
( 347 )
SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTER.
LATER YEARS AND DEATH OF DR WILLIAM CHAMBERS.
1865— 1883.
T^HE story of William and Robert Chambers, as
-*- told in the foregoing lively and graceful record
from the pen of the elder brother, brings the romantic
narrative of their lives down to 187 1, the year in which
Robert died. In 1883, twelve years afterwards, and
when eleven editions of this work had gone through the
press, William, full of years and honours, passed like-
wise from the scene of his early struggles and later
triumphs, and it falls to another pen to complete the
story of his singular life. In so doing, it seems desir-
able that the history of this later period of William
Chambers's career should begin with the year 1S65, at
which time he was elected to the high and honourable
office of Lord Provost of the city of Edinburgh. The
brief and modest reference which he has made to
the circumstance in the preceding pages, far from
adequately sets forth the extent of his services in his
official capacity, and the value of these services to the
community. It is not only becoming, therefore, but a
simple act of justice to his memory, that in this volume
those public measures of his which served to round off
34S MEMOIR.
and complete a long and varied career of usefulness,
should have due prominence given to them in this
supplementary record of his closing years.
In the beginning of 1882, the Jubilee year of the
Journal which he had originated in 1832, Dr William
Chambers took occasion to contribute to its pages some
notes of his career as associated therewith, which notes
he afterwards extended and published in a little volume
under the title of Story of a Long atid Busy Life. In
this volume he says : * In 1865, the citizens of Edinburgh
were in want of a Lord Provost, and, to my surprise,
fixed on me for the distinguished office. I had hitherto
shrunk from taking any prominent part in public affairs ;
and on the present occasion only acceded to the general
solicitations from a wish to promote, if possible, certain
measures of social improvement. From a consideration
of the state of large cities, I entertained the convic-
tion, that the insalubrity, the vice and misery, that
prevail among the more abject classes, are traceable in
a great measure to that inveterately wrong system of
house construction which consists in narrow courts and
alleys branching from the main thoroughfares. I felt
that if I could possibly obliterate, by legislation, the
hideous resorts in these quarters, a good deed would be
done.'
This was the beginning and motive of the Edinburgh
City Improvement Act of 1867, which has effected so
great a change for the better on the social and sanitary
condition of the Scottish capital, and the example of
which has since been followed with advantage in more
than one of the larger towns of England and Scotland.
The passing of the Edinburgh Act was not secured
DR WILLIAM CHAMBERS. 349
without considerable opposition in certain quarters ; but
Dr Chambers had made his account with this. He was
aware, from his knowledge of the world, that no such
sweeping measure of reform as that proposed by him
could possibly be carried through without exciting the
hostility of those whose conservative habits of thought,
or local and proprietary interests, rendered them averse
from engaging in a scheme that would of necessity efface
so many of the time-honoured associations of the ancient
city. The line of the Pligh Street and Canongatc,
occupying the crest of the ridge that slopes down from
the Castle-rock to Holyrood, has been from time im-
memorial flanked on both sides by thick rows of houses,
only separated from each other by narrow wynds and
closes, which branch off at right angles from the main
thoroughfare like ribs from the backbone of a skeleton.
Many of the buildings, so huddled away down narrow
lanes, were at one time the dwelling-places of Scotland's
nobility and gentry. But the removal of the court and
parliament from Edinburgh, and the gradual change in
the character of the population due to the extension of
the city outward, had left these aristocratic residences
to be divided and subdivided to suit the wants of
tenants in a constantly descending social scale, till
at length, in many quarters, these densely-jiopulated
' lands ' — as such rows of houses are called — were
almost wholly given over to the more vicious and prof-
ligate of the community, and had become the haunts of
crime and misery in every form. These houses, besides
harbouring idle and evil-disposed persons, were at the
same time the hotbed of fevers and other malignant
forms of disease, which no amount of police and sanitary
supervision was able adequately to cope with. The
w
350 MEMOIR.
problem how to deal with the difficulty had been the
subject of much thought on the part of Dr Chambers,
and the conclusion to which he came was, that the only
way to improve these quarters of the city was to obtain
power to demolish them, or at anyrate a portion of
them, and to replace the closely-huddled and tumble-
down tenements by broad and open lines of street,
accessible to the free air and the sunshine.
This resolution was not unaccompanied by some
sentiments of regret, Dr Chambers shared largely in
his brother Robert's veneration for the historical
antiquities of Edinburgh ; and the removal of those
old houses, that bore about them, even in their decay,
so many memorials of a vanished past — sculptured coats
of arms, pious mottoes of ancient founders, dates
and names suggestive of many a stirring page in
Scottish story — was not to be thought of without
regretting the necessities of modern life which rendered
their demolition desirable. This feeling of respect for
the fading relics of a grand historic past was rational
and patriotic ; but the social and sanitary claims of
present existence were still more urgent, and the work
of reform could not with safety be postponed.
Dr Chambers no sooner, therefore, entered upon the
duties of his civic office than he set about those
preliminary investigations that were necessary to the
success of his scheme. The report of the medical
officer of the city sufficiently indicated the enormously
high death-rate that prevailed in the insalubrious and
densely-populated quarters of the Old Town ; and the
facts thus elicited strongly impressed Dr Chambers
with the necessity of at once obtaining statutory powers
to enable the Town Council to deal with the questioa
LORD PROVOST OF EDINBURGH. 351
The powers thus required would be directed towards
the pulling down and removal of the large blocks of old
and crowded tenements, the widening of wynds and
alleys, and the formation of wide and convenient streets.
In the drafting and carrying out of this important
scheme, Dr Chambers fully acknowledged the efficient
help and assistance which he received in the work from
the city officials, chiefly Mr J. D. Marwick, then Town
Clerk, and Mr Robert Adam, the City Accountant.
The result was the passing of the Improvement Act of
1867, under the operation of which extensive changes
have been made in the distribution of population in the
city. Spacious streets have taken the place of many of
the old narrow, sunless, pestiferous lanes ; and the work-
ing inhabitants that before were huddled away in dens
inaccessible to light and air, have now at their disposal
a class of houses with which their former domiciles
cannot be brought into comparison, either as regards
the nature of their accommodation or the salubrity of
their surroundings.
The Improvement Act was in all respects a success.
Between 1867 and the time of Dr Chambers's death,
there had been expended, under the Improvement Trust,
in the purchase and removal of nearly three thousand
houses, the sum of ;p^S33,657; while there was derived
from the sale of new building sites disposed of on the
ground tluis cleared, and from a small annual rate and
other sources of income, the sum of ^443,460. The
excess of expenditure over receipts at the end of the
fifteenth year of the Trust's existence was thus ^90,197 ;
but as the Trust will continue till 1887, with various
ground annuals and building areas still at its disposal,
it is believed that at the end of the twenty years
352 MEMOIR.
fixed by the Act, a financially successful issue will
have been achieved. This magnificent scheme of
urban reform had a strikingly beneficial effect upon
the health and general condition of the population;
a remarkable proof of which is to be found in the fact,
that the death-rate of Edinburgh, which in 1865 was
twenty-six per thousand per annum, had in 18S2 fallen
to eighteen per thousand.
From 1865 to 1868, Dr Chambers worked vigorously
at his Improvement Scheme ; and when his triennial
period of oflice came to an end in the latter year,
he allowed himself to be re-elected for a second period,
in order to secure certain portions of his scheme being
carried out upon the lines laid down by him. He was
successful in effecting his purpose, though not without a
stiff fight ; and this accomplished, he resigned his office
at the end of 1869, and retired into private life.
While the civic rule of Dr Chambers was mainly
distinguished by his reforms under the City Improve-
ment Scheme, it was also signalised by the visits of
various eminent personages to the city. In May 1866,
he had the honour of entertaining at luncheon His
Royal Highness Prince Alfred, now Duke of Edinburgh,
along with a number of noble and distinguished guests,
on the occasion of the opening of the National Museum
of Science and Art, in Chambers Street.* It also fell
to him as Lord Provost to preside at the presentation
of the freedom of the city to three distinguished men,
namely. Lord Napier of Magdala, ]\Ir John Bright, and
Mr Benjamin Disraeli (afterwards Lord Beaconsfield),
*This is one of the finest of the new streets made under the
Improvement Trust, and was so named in honour of Dr Chambers.
PRESENTA TION AT COURT. 353
then Chancellor of the Exchequer. The presentation
to Mr Disraeli took place on the 30th October 1867 ;
and on the previous day, when being entertained at a
great public banquet, the Chancellor of the Exchequer,
in toasting ' the Magistrates of the City,' referred to the
application of literature to the world generally as a
distinguishing feature of the present age, and added :
' I do not think that the name of Chambers will ever
be mentioned in the future without a sentiment of
gratitude.' This reference could not fail to be highly
pleasing to Dr Chambers, and was not more than his
own and his brother's services to literature amply
merited.
During the currency of his office as Lord Provost,
and in his official capacity, Dr Chambers was presented
at Court. This event took place at a levde held at the
palace of St James, on the 2d of May 1866, Her Majesty
on the occasion being represented by the Prince of
Wales. 'On going up the great staircase,' says Dr
Chambers, with a touch of natural feeling, ' I confess to
being affected by a strange sensation. A recollection
of my early stmggles rushed across my memory. Plow
strange the metamorphosis, from having been a penni-
less and unknown youth to being a full-blown dignitary
arrayed in rich apparel, and wearing the robes and
insignia of office. Without presumption, could I help
remembering the notable text in Scripture, which had
similarly occurred to the mind of Benjamin Franklin ?
"Seest thou a man diligent in business? he shall stand
before kings.'"
The Lord Provost of Edinburgh is cx-officio a member
of the Commission of Northern Lighthouses, a body
invested with the duty of managing all the lighthouses on
354 MEMOIR.
the coast of Scotland and the Isle of Man. The Com-
missioners are in the habit of annually making a tour of
inspection, in a steamer called the Pharos, belonging to
the service, to certain of the lighthouses under their
charge; and Dr Chambers on two occasions took part in
this official duty. It will be remembered that in 1814
Sir Walter Scott had the honour of being invited to join
the Commissioners of the time in their annual tour,
and that English literature is indebted to that voyage
for the poem of The Lord of the Isles and the romance
of The Pirate. The fact that Scott had thus preceded
him in a tour among the picturesque bays and wild
islets of the Scottish coast, was to Dr Chambers a
matter of pleasing recollection, Scott being one of
those authors whom he especially, and for obvious
reasons, held in high esteem. Both had a strong love
for their native land ; its history was to each a matter
of every-day study; its old families were enshrined to
both in a halo of past associations ; its woods and
hills and rivers had become mapped in the mind of
each by long and loving observation ; and each in his
own way had used its ancient traditions and historical
episodes for the instruction and entertainment of later
generations.
Dr Chambers's first trip in the Pharos took place in
1866, on which occasion he visited the west coast of
Scotland, among the Outer Hebrides. He had also an
opportunity of ascending what he calls ' that wonderful
triumph of art,' the Skerryvore lighthouse, rising to
the height of one hundred and fifty feet above high
water. As the vessel approached Skerryvore, which was
seen looming dimly through the dull haze, solitary amidst
the world of waters, ' the feeling,' he says, ' of those who
IN ORKNEY AND SHETLAND. 355
had not previously seen it was one of intense pleasure
and satisfaction. There are sights of such impressive
grandeur as cannot be forgotten, and the recollection
of which forms one of the charms of existence. Among
these I have reckoned the falls of Niagara, the ruins of
the Colosseum, the interior of St Peter's, and now am
able to add the Skerryvore lighthouse.'
The second trip in the Pharos, which was in the
following year, took Dr Chambers along the east coast
of Scotland, from the Firth of Forth and Bell Rock
lighthouses, to the far islands of Orkney and Shetland.
The external characteristics of these islands are familiar
to readers of The Pirate; and Dr Chambers was careful
to note, at Sumburgh Head and other jjlaces mentioned
in the romance, the extraordinary fidelity of Scott in his
descriptions of the scenery, and the charm which his
work had given to places and names which otherwise
had scarcely been known outside Shetland. Under
the title of ' My Holiday,' Dr Chambers wrote an
account of these two excursions, in a series of articles
which appeared in Chatnbers's Journal, and which were
afterwards printed in a small volume for private cir-
culation. These papers are marked by racy bits of
description, wise and practical observations on the
condition of the scattered populations whom he thus
visited, and useful suggestions for their future improve-
ment, especially as regards the development of the
fisheries on the western coast.
With his retirement from the Lord Provostship of
Edinburgh, towards the end of 1869, Dr Chambers's
brief jjeriod of public life may be said to have come
to an end. He once more fell back into tlie familiar
3S6 MEMOIR.
groove of his early and middle years, dividing his time
between his literary pursuits, and the direction of the
large publishing establishment which he and his brother
had founded. The latter was now suffering from
declining health, and in 187 1, as already told in these
pages, the end came. Thereafter, Dr William Chambers
spent some time abroad, in the district of Mentone,
which was his favourite continental resort ; and though
his pen was not altogether idle, the advance of age
rendered him less disposed towards the laborious exer-
tions of his earlier years. Nevertheless, besides writing
the present Memoir of his brother, and contributing an
occasional article to the Journal whose welfare he had
ever keenly at heart, he managed in these years to pro-
duce a few other works. Two of these were suggested
by his sojourn abroad. Wintering at Mentone was the
result of his residence for two winters at that pleasant
resort in the Riviera; and Fra?ice: its History and
Revolutions, was due to his desire to place in the hands
of young persons a simple and succinct account of
some of the chief events in the history of France — which
history had become, by the Franco-German war of
1870-71, a subject of fresh and exciting interest to both
young and old. The latter book has passed through
four editions. While abroad, also, he WTOte Ailie
Gilroy, a story which he tells us was founded on facts,
and written with the view to put young ladies on their
guard against designing adventurers.
During the last six or seven years of his life he began
to take a less active part in the concerns of his business,
though his interest in its welfare and his knowledge of
all its operations were in no degree lessened. The
direction of its literary projects, however, including the
RESTORA TION OF ST GILES'. 357
management of Chambers's Journa/, was gradually
passed into the hands of his nephew, Mr Robert
Chambers, the eldest son of his brother Robert ; and
the greater rest and leisure which he thus secured gave
him the opportunity of carrying out and completing a
work which he had long had in contemplation, and with
which his name was in his latest years very closely
associated, namely, the restoration of the Cathedral
Church of St Giles, Edinburgh.
This ancient edifice, dating from about the twelfth
century, is closely connected with the leading events
of Scottish history, and was the scene of many re-
markable episodes in Reformation times, as well as
during the later struggle in Scotland between Episco-
pacy and Presbyterianism. When the ecclesiastical
changes consequent upon the establishment of Pro-
testantism in the sixteenth century had put an end to
the old Roman Catholic ritual, and St Giles' had become
a place of plain Presbyterian worship, its long-drawn
aisles were not thought advantageous to the preachers
of the day, and the interior of the edifice was con-
sequently partitioned off into a number of separate
places of worship. The stone walls which thus cut the
fine old church into small and meaningless sections,
entirely destroyed the effect of its original architecture ;
while the erection of the high steep galleries which
filled the side aisles and blocked up every possible
recess, had been effected at the cost of much hacking
and hewing of the ancient stone-work. A so-called
process of rehabilitation of the edifice in 1830, when
the exterior of the building was newly incased in stone,
helped still further to obliterate its historic features ; the
stately old tower, surmounted by its finely-proportioned
358 MEMOIR.
mural crown, being now perhaps the only characteristic
of its external aspect which can really be regarded as
ancient. The interior, also, at the same time underwent
certain other changes for the worse. In order that the
preacher might be seen by as many of the congregation
as possible, the massive octagonal pillars in the nave
were sliced down into narrow fluted shafts, altogether
out of keeping with the general character of the
architecture ; and in order that room might be made
for the galleries, arches and capitals were ruthlessly cut
into, and the whole place made as unlike its ancient
self as possible. What was done in the nave, was to
a great extent imitated in the transepts and choir;
while the side chapels were either demolished, or, as
was the case with the historic Albany Aisle, completely
blocked up with the unadorned wood-work of galleries
and pews.
The idea of restoring the Church of St Giles to some-
thing like its ancient condition — as far at least as
regarded the interior, for the exterior was hopelessly
changed— occurred to Dr Chambers during those years
when he was Lord Provost of Edinburgh. He had
frequently occasion to attend public worship officially
along with the other Magistrates and members of the
Town Council, the place of assemblage being the choir
of the old cathedral. This portion of St Giles' was
known as the High Church ; but there were other two
places of worship within the edifice, all three being
divided from each other by stone walls that formed
no part of the original building, and with separate
congregations meeting in each. It was while sitting in
the choir, or High Church, in the elevated gallery
reserved for the Magistrates and Town Council of the
RESTORATION OF ST GILES\ 359
city, that Dr Chambers, as he tells us, * conceived the
idea of attempting a restoration of the building, and
producing a church in which the people of Edinburgh
might feel some pride.'
The objects he originally had in promoting the
restoration of the building, in the first place by public
subscription, and latterly at his own cost, have been
clearly defined by himself, and were never in any essen-
tial respect departed from. He did not forget that such
an edifice as St Giles' was not primarily designed for
the purposes of modem Presbyterian worship ; and his
desire was to restore its interior as nearly as possible to
its original condition, when, as he remarks in a paper
which he read on the subject in 1867, ' the whole interior
was an open space, with only such furnishings as per-
tained to a dignified ecclesiastical structure previous to
the Reformation.* ' With the removal of the partition-
walls,' he said, ' my aim goes the length of clearing out
the whole interior, so as to bring it back, as nearly as
possible, to what it was originally.' The choir, or High
Church, was the first portion of the building which he
proposed to renovate ; more could not be attempted
until the congregations which occupied the other two
divisions were removed elsewhere. But he was hopeful
that even these obstacles to the complete restoration of
the fabric would in course of time disappear ; in which
case, he said, ' the proposal I would offer is, to clear
away the dividing walls, take down all the galleries,
remove the pews, bring all to a uniform level, and leave
an open stretch of pavement tliroughout. l"',xcei)ting
the partially inclosed choir, tiie whole eilifice wouhi be
free to the perambulation of visitors.' He further
hoped that the restoration of the building and per-
36o MEMOIR.
manent clearance of the nave would give an oppor-
tunity for the erection therein of monuments to distin-
guished Scotchmen of past and future times, and that
St Giles', in a sense, might come to be viewed as the
Westminster Abbey of Scotland.
When once the idea of the restoration had suggested
itself to him, he entered into the matter with his
accustomed decision and vigour. An influential and
enthusiastic public committee, of which he was chair-
man, was shortly formed, with the object of collecting
funds to defray the cost of the proposed work. The
part of the edifice to which the efforts of the Restora-
tion Committee were first directed, was, as had been
proposed, the choir; and the committee was fairly
successful in its efibrts. The renovation of the choir
was not at this time so thorough as might have been
desired ; but still the improvement eftected upon its
appearance was very marked, and it might once more
lay claim to the artistic beauty of which former genera-
tions had thoughtlessly deprived it.
The first renovation of the choir was finished in
1873; and five years afterwards, one of the other two
portions of the building fell into disuse as a place of
worship. Dr Chambers, whose zeal for the complete
restoration of the church had never abated, took advan-
tage of this opportunity, resolving to apply the same
process of renovation to it that had been so effective
in the choir. But this time he determined to relieve
the Restoration Committee of any further trouble and
responsibility, and to proceed entirely on his own judg-
ment, and at his own cost. Even the most enthusiastic
of committees rarely work without more or less of
friction, which means in the end irritation and delay ;
RESTORATION OF ST GILES\ 361
and Dr Chambers's advanced age, and the extent of
the task which he had now set before himself to
accompUsh — namely, the complete restoration and open-
ing up of the whole interior of St Giles' — rendered it
necessary that the work should be done as smoothly
and expeditiously as possible, if he were to sec the
end of his labours. In 1878, therefore, and the
following year, he succeeded in restoring the southern
aisles of the church, including the Preston and Chepman
Aisles. The Preston Aisle, as renovated, exhibits a
beauty of groining which is said not to be surpassed,
if equalled, in Great Britain ; while under the Chepman
Aisle, which had been degraded into a coal-cellar, is
the vault wherein were deposited the mortal remains
of the great Montrose.
There now only remained to complete the restoration
of this fine old historic church, the nave and the north
transept, with the adjoining chapels. Before this work
could be begun, however, elaborate arrangements had
to be made, by Act of Parliament and otherwise, for the
removal of the congregation then worshipping in tlie
nave, the arrangements being burdened by the necessity
of collecting from the public a sum of j[^'i-0,%oo to pro-
vide that congregation with a church elsewhere. Con-
ditional upon this sum being raised, and the keys of the
building handed over to Dr Chambers by Whitsunday
1880, he, on his part, undertook to carry out and com-
plete the work of restoration. A committee was formed,
which charged itself with the collection of the sum in
question ; but the ai)peal made to the public was at first
only meagrely responded to, many being disposed to
regard the restoration as rather of a denominational
than a national character. But the intentions of Dr
362 MEMOIR.
Chambers were clearly public and national, and not
sectarian in any sense. The renovation proposed by
him was undertaken with the view, not of benefiting
any particular Church or congregation, but of beautify-
ing a neglected national edifice, and rendering it in some
degree a place of national utility — in his own words, a
Westminster Abbey of Scotland, As these patriotic
and undenominational objects of Dr Chambers became
clearer to the public, principally through the advocacy of
the newspaper press, which all throughout had favoured
his project, money began to come in more freely, and
from all sections of society. It was not, however, till
the spring of 1881 that the money was fully secured,
and the congregation removed from the nave of St
Giles'. The workmen were thenceforth for two years
busily engaged upon this last stage of the restoration,
which included not only the nave and northern chapels,
but also a more complete renovation of the choir than
it had undergone in 1873,
Unfortunately, while this work of restoration was
being pressed forward, the health of the Restorer
himself was evidently failing. At this time he was
in his eighty-second year, and for a long while had
suffered periodically from severe neuralgic pains in the
head, followed by more or less of prostration of the
system. In the spring of 1881, these attacks recurred
more frequently and with greater vehemence, accom-
panied by fits of sickness of a depressing kind. In the
summer he went to Portobello, a watering-place in the
neighbourhood of Edinburgh, where he stayed for some
weeks, and was so much benefited by the change, that
he was able to spend the autumn, as had long been his
annual custom, at his estate of Glenormiston, in Peebles-
FAILING HEALTH. 363
shire.* While not altogether free from occasional neur-
algic attacks, he was, during 1882, somewhat improved
in his general health, though becoming physically
weaker. But it was not till the beginning of 1883 that
his condition became such as to alarm his friends.
Throughout the early spring of that year, it could be
seen that he was perceptibly breaking down both in
mind and body. Till then, and even while suffering
the most acute pain, his intellect had remained un-
touched ; he thought, and spoke, and acted, in all
matters of business or advising that came before him,
with the clearness and promptitude of his most vigorous
years. But now it was obvious that his memory was
failing, and his mind exhibiting otherwise symptoms of
decay. ' The keeper of the house was beginning to
tremble, and the strong man to bow himself. ' Happily,
his illness was no longer accompanied by acute
suffering; it was simply a gradual exhaustion of the
vital energies, the machinery of life worn done by old
age and use.
During the last year of his life, the St Giles' restoration
formed the chief object of his thoughts, and reports were
regularly made to him of the progress of the work and
* The estate of Glenormiston was purcliascd by Dr Chambers
in 1849, for the sum of ;^25,ooo. It is finely situated on the
Tweed, in the parish of Innerleithen, in the eastern district of the
county of Peebles, and about five miles from his native town.
Immediately after obtaining possession of the estate, Ur Chambers
carried out extensive improvements upon it, adorning and beauti-
fying it in many respects. He formed a new ajiproach, with
entrance lodge, drained a large part of the land, reconstructed the
farm-steading, and adapted the mansion-house to his requirements ;
these and other improvements costing him the further sum of
;^I0,000.
3C^ MEMOIR.
all that pertained to it. In 1879, he had written a
Historical Sketch of St dies' Cathedral, embracing an
account of the restorations up to that year ; and perhaps
the last of his suggestions as an author and publisher
was when, about a month before his death, and
now no longer able to wield the pen himself, he
requested one of his literary assistants to prepare a
new edition of the Sketch, giving therein the final
details of the restoration work. He was naturally
desirous to live to see St Giles' in its renovated con-
dition ; and with this view the operations, many of
which involved much careful and artistic manipulation,
had been for two years pushed rapidly forward. From
1872 onward, the whole of the restoration work
had been done by the advice and under the per-
sonal superintendence of Mr William Hay, architect,
Edinburgh, whose knowledge of ancient ecclesias-
tical architecture is only equalled by the refined
taste and artistic skill which he brought to bear upon
the work. By the spring of 1883, the process of
renovation was all but completed, and with a suc-
cess even more striking than had been anticipated.
Portion after portion of the ancient edifice had been
cleared out, and each in succession renovated and
restored, with the result of bringing back to the interior,
so far as architectural effect is concerned, very much
the appearance which we may suppose it to have had
immediately before the Reformation. The magnificent
restoration which Dr Chambers thus accomplished,
was executed at a cost to himself of between t\venty
and thirty thousand pounds. The re-opening of the
church for public worship was fixed for Wednesday
the 23d of May 1883 ; but three days previously
DEA TIL 365
Dr Chambers had passed away, and the imposing
ceremony of the 23d was rendered all the more solemn
and imj)ressive by the regretful feeling that he who
had conceived and executed the design of restoration
had died without witnessing the consummation of his
work.
His end, though not unexpected, came somewhat
sooner than had been anticipated. During the first two
weeks of May he had exhibited from time to time
alarming symptoms of physical exhaustion, from which,
however, he occasionally rallied, giving still some faint
hopes of partial recovery. But on Friday the iSth of
that month, he fell into a kind of lethargy, which con-
tinued throughout the whole of Saturday, and into the
morning of Sunday the 20th, when, a few minutes before
two o'clock, he calmly breathed his last.
His death was attended in the public mind by two
poignant sources of regret. One of these we have
already alluded to, namely, his death on the very eve of
the re-opening of the restored St Giles'. The other was
the flattering circumstance that, only two weeks before
his death, Her Majesty the Queen, through her Prime
Minister, Mr Gladstone, had offered Dr Chambers the
honour of a baronetcy. Two years previously, Mr
Gladstone had, in complimentary terms, made him an
offer of a knighthood ; but that offer he then respect-
fully declined. This later renewal of the honour, how-
ever, in the shape of a baronetcy, Dr Chambers accepted ;
but his end came before the title had been fomially
bestowed. The great number of letters following
immediately upon the announcement, and addressed
to him by readers of Chainbers's Journal in all parts
of the United Kingdom, congratulating him upon
366 MEMOIR.
the honour Her Majesty had at length done him,
formed a strong indication of the interest which the
pubhc felt in the matter. His death, therefore, ere
the honour had been formally conferred upon him,
could not fail to stimulate and increase the general
regret when it was intimated that William Chambers
was no more.
The re-opening of St Giles' Cathedral for public wor-
ship had been already fixed for the 23d of May ; and
though at first it was naturally felt that the occurrence
in the meantime of Dr Chambers's death might lead to
a postponement of the ceremony, other considerations
showed how impossible it was to stay a great public
demonstration for which preparations had been making
for weeks previously. It had been the desire of those
charged with the arrangements, that the Queen should
perform the opening ceremony ; but, in the unavoidable
absence of Her Majesty, the duty was performed by
the Right Hon. the Earl of Aberdeen, Lord High
Commissioner to the General Assembly of the Church
of Scotland. The ceremony was in all respects a
magnificent one, and was attended, not only by great
numbers of the general public, but by representatives of
all the chief public corporations in Scotland, including
the Judges of the Court of Session, the Faculty of
Advocates, the Society of Writers to the Signet, the
Solicitors before the Supreme Courts, the Magistrates
and Town Councillors of Edinburgh, the Senatus of
the University, the Royal Colleges of Physicians and
Surgeons, the Royal Scottish Academy, the High
Constables of Holyrood, the Convener and Deacons
of the Trades, and many other public bodies, besides
almost the whole of the members of the General
RE-OPENING OF ST GTLES\ 367
Assembly of the Church of Scotland. A choir of
two hundred voices, with the organ, led the service
of praise ; and a congregation of not fewer than three
thousand persons crowded the immense building in
every part. The judges, magistrates, clergy, and
almost all the other representatives of public bodies
present, were in their official robes ; and as deputation
after deputation entered the church, and slowly filed up
the nave to their respective places in the choir, the
sight, with its imposing solemnity and occasionally
picturesque effects, was suggestive of the pageants of an
older day, when Scottish kings and queens graced with
their presence the hallowed precincts of St Giles'. The
opening sermon was preached by the minister of the
Church, the Rev. J, Cameron Lees, D.D. ; and probably
no one had addressed so large and distinguished an
audience within the old historic edifice since the day
when John Knox preached in the same place the funeral
sermon of the Regent Moray.
From the spring of 1881, Dr Chambers had practically
been the custodian of the Church of St Giles, and the
formal part of the opening ceremony consisted in the
transference of the keys of the building from the posses-
sion of his representatives to that of the Queen's
Commissioner. With this object, Mr Robert Chambers,
as representing his deceased uncle, awaited Lord
Aberdeen at the west door of the Cathedral, and
there, through the medium of Lord Provost Harrison,
delivered the keys into his lordship's hand, who, after
the formal ceremony of opening the door of the church,
passed them into the custody of the minister, Dr Lees.
Dr Chambers, feeling in the later weeks of his life the
improbability of his being able to attend the opening
368 MEMOIR.
ceremony, had, with his cliaracteristic forethought,
prepared an address which, in the event of his
absence, was to be read to Her Majesty's representa-
tive. This address, which was now read by Mr R.
Chambers, is remarkable for the singular grace and
simplicity of its language, and will be of permanent
interest as among the last literary compositions dictated
by the Restorer of St Giles' :
To His Grace the Lord High Commissioner.
May it Please Your Grace,
I esteem it a high honour that Her Majesty has commis-
sioned one so respected and esteemed, and whose name and
family are so dear to Scotland, to represent her on this
occasion.
It is with much thankfulness that I have completed the
restoration of this venerable Cathedral.
The interests of Edinburgh, where I have spent so many
years, are very dear to me ; and it is as a token of my affec-
tion that I have endeavoured to restore her historic church
to somewhat of its former beauty.
It is ample reward to me to know that my work has met
with the approval of my beloved Sovereign, and so many of
her Scottish subjects.
May I ask Your Grace to present my humble duty to Her
Most Gracious Majesty, and to express my deep gratitude
for her recognition of my labours.
I have now to present to Your Grace the keys of St Giles',
which have been intrusted to me for a time, and to ask
Your Grace to open the church in name of Her TNIajesty the
Oueen.
W. Chambers.
The opening ceremony outside was followed by
appropriate devotional services in the interior of the
church ; after Avhich an eloquent sermon was preached
SERMON. 369
by Dr Lees from the words in Joshua iv. 21: ' What
mean these stones ? ' In the course of the sermon, and
in answer to the question of the text as apphed to
the old historic fabric in which the congregation were
assembled, the preacher said :
* To-day these stones mean — henceforth they will menn
— something more than before. They will be associated,
not alone in our day, but in days to come, with noble
munificence. They will be the monument of a great and
generous Scottish man. A feeling of sadness has mingled
with the ceremonial of to-day, a pathos which has given a
solemnity to our service greater than any outward acces-
sories could ever give it. There has been a presence
to-day within these walls mightier than any earthly presence,
the shadow that awes even the lightest-hearted into silence.
We are celebrating the completion of a great work. The
generous heart that prompted it, the thoughtful mind that
carried it out, is for ever at rest. Another day will pass,
and he will be borne here on the way to his burial, and his
obsequies will be celebrated amid the beauty he created,
but which he was never to see. There is something inex-
pressibly touching in life thus closing on the threshold of
achievement. It is ever so. The great leader dying with
the light of the promised land in his eyes ; the funeral of
the Persian poet passing out of one gate of the city, while
camels bearing the gold that was to reward him were
coming in at the other ; the last words of the laborious
writer, Buckle, " My poor book !" "When the keys," Dr
Chambers wrote, " are put into my hands, not an hour will
be lost in accomplishing this important undertaking, and
God grant me life and health to carry through the work to
a successful issue." His reverent prayer has been answered.
How successful the issue has been, you can all see. I know
it lay very close to the heart of my dear old friend. Weak
and feeble though he was, and confined long to his room,
he knew every detail of what was being done here. " If
37° MEMOTR.
God," he once said to me feelingly, as he clasped my hand
one day in parting with him, " enables me to finish this
work, I will sing my Nunc Dimitlis." Often he told me of
the motives that weighed with him in undertaking this
work. He believed that this restored building might teach
great historic lessons, that it might inspire men with the
feeling of reverence, that it might be a source of good and
sweetening influence in this city. All this is in keeping
with the rest of his life. It is a life, like that of his distin-
guished brother, of which Scotsmen may be proud. In
its record of perseverance, endurance, foresight, perfect
integrity, it displays the best features of the national
character. The poor lad by honest industry rising to
eminence, becoming the chief citizen of Edinburgh, in-
augurating sanitary measures which lowered the terrible
death-rate of the inhabitants of its formerly overcrowded
tenements ; above all, becoming the founder of that popular
literature which is so marked a feature of our time. These
are things which will not be soon forgotten. There are few
who did not rejoice when our gracious Sovereign intimated
that she was to confer on him well-merited honour. There
are none who did not feel a pang of sorrow at hearing how
he passed away before that honour reached him. It is a
touching story from first to last — a touching, yet, in many
ways, an elevating and instructive one. So long, my
brethren, as these stones remain one upon another, will
men remember the deed that William Chambers hath done,
and tell of it to their children.'
Lord Aberdeen, at the conclusion of the service,
communicated to Her Majesty the successful com-
pletion of the ceremony of re-opening the Cathedral of
St Giles, and a telegram was received in reply from the
Queen's secretary. Sir Henry Ponsonby, with a message
from Her Majesty, stating that the Queen had heard
with sincere regret of the death of Dr Chambers
FUNERAL. 371
before even his title had been gazetted, aftd express-
ing Her Majesty's satisfaction at the success of the
proceedings.
Friday, the 25th of May, was the day fixed for the
funeral. It had been Dr Chambers's wish that he
should be buried in his native town of Peebles, in
the old St Andrew's churchyard there, beside the
dust of his ancestors ; and preparations were made
accordingly. The Magistrates and Town Council
of Edinburgh resolved that the remains of the man
who had at one time filled the civic chair, and
whose public reforms and private munificence had
done so much to enhance the city's attractions, should
be honoured with a public funeral. The members of
the Magistracy and Town Council, with other digni-
taries of the city, in their official robes, met therefore,
on the morning of the 25th, at Dr Chambers's
house, No. 13 Chester Street, and accompanied his
remains to St Giles' Cathedral, where a funeral service
was to be held. As the procession moved off, a
mufiled peal of bells was rung from the tower of St
Mary's Cathedral ; and on the public buildings of the
city, flags were hoisted half-mast high. All along the
route, numerous spectators lined the streets, and in the
vicinity of St Giles' a large crowd had assembled.
Inside the cliurch was an immense congregation of
waiting worshippers, the silence only broken from time
to time by the muffled stroke of the great bell tolling
in the tower. On the arrival of the cortege at the
church, the cofhn, covered with wreaths of flowers, was
carried shoulder-high up the choir to the ancient
chancel, and placed in front of the communion-table,
with the foot to the east. As the solemn procession
372 MEMOIR.
entered the holy fane which the patriotism of the
deceased had so beautified and adorned, the whole
assembled congregation rose to their feet, while the
low pealing of the organ filled the aisles. The Rev.
Dr Lees then proceeded with an appropriate service,
strikingly suggestive of the solemn rites which the old
cathedral walls had witnessed in earlier times, this
being doubtless the first public funeral ceremony
observed within; St Giles' since the date of the Revolu-
tion. Its occurrence on this occasion was singularly
befitting, as being the last honours paid to the remains
of one who had lovingly restored to the nation its
metropolitan church in all its original magnificence and
beauty.
The service over, the funeral procession was re-formed ;
and on its way to the Waverley Station, whence the
remains were to be conveyed by rail to Peebles, the
cortege passed through great crowds of spectators
assembled on the Mound and Princes Street, and in
the vicinity of the railway station. On arriving at
Peebles, the funeral party was joined by the Magistrates
and Council of that burgh, with many others in their
public or private capacity, and proceeded to the St
Andrew's churchyard, about a mile from the town.
The bell was tolled from the old church steeple;
the shops were shut, and the blinds of the houses
drawn ; and all along the route, men and women and
children had everywhere come out to witness the
funeral of a townsman of whom the community of
Peebles have reason long to be proud. As the pro-
cession passed within a few yards of the house in
which he and his brother Robert had been bom more
than eighty years before, it was impossible to avoid
FUNERAL. 373
being struck by the contrasting circumstances of that
time and the present. It was exactly seventy years
since he had left his native place, with his parents, a
poor boy, departing thence in misfortune and distress ;
and now his remains were being brought thither amid
the regrets of a grateful nation, and honoured by the
personal sympathies of his country's sovereign.
The secluded churchyard of St Andrew surrounds the
ruins of what was once the parish church of Peebles,
founded by the enterprising Bishop Jocelyn of Glasgow
in 1 195, and, as its name implies, dedicated to the
national saint. The church, of which only a frag-
mentary wall remains, was built of the hard undressed
stone of the district, with a tower at its west end,
which had for long stood in tolerable preservation,
though roofless, ragged, and windowless. Towards the
close of Dr Chambers's life, he had made preparations
for strengthening and, so far as was needful for its
further preservation, restoring this ancient tower, and
the work had only been begun a few weeks before his
decease. The workmen had suspended their labours on
the day of the funeral; but as the company approached
the churchyard, and saw the old tower encaged in its
scaffolding of wood-work, with the other evidences of
building operations lying around, it seemed as if the
notable activities of the deceased had not quite died
with his death, but were still to be prolonged on the
very site of his grave. The place prepared for the
reception of his remains, and containing also the dust
of his father and mother, lies within the space which
must in ancient times have been included within the
precincts of the now dilajjidated church. When the
coffin had been borne to the grave, and placed ready
374 MEMOIR.
for interment, the Rev. Dr Lees read a {^.w passages of
Scripture, and oftered up a touching and impressive
prayer, in the course of which he thanked God for the
long and useful life which had been granted to him
whom they had now brought to the place of burial, for
the honour which had been bestowed upon him, and,
above all, for the good which he had been able to do in
this world for the benefit of others. The sun shone
down brightly on the throng of mourners as they stood
uncovered beside the open grave, listening to the
solemn words that alone broke the noonday stillness.
In a few minutes the simple rites were over, dust
returned to dust, and ashes to ashes, and he to
whom were now paid the last obsequies of earth was
left to his long repose, overshadowed by the green hills
of his native valley, and almost within sound of the
silver Tweed.
On the following Sunday, further public reference
was made in St Giles' Cathedral to the death of Dr
Chambers. The Rev. Archibald Scott, D.D., minister
of St George's parish, Edinburgh, had been appointed
by the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland to
preach before the Lord High Commissioner and the
members of Assembly on the morning of that day.
The preacher chose for his text, Psalm xvii. 15 : * As for
me, I will behold thy face in righteousness ; I shall be
satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness ; ' and at the
close of his discourse spoke as follows, in allusion to the
death of Dr Chambers :
* We surely make no descent from the solemn themes on
which we have been meditating, when, ere we close, we
desire to recall to your affectionate remembrance him to
PULPIT REFERENCE. 375
whose munificence we owe this ancient building, which has
again been dedicated to the holiest of uses. He too, having
liberally served his day, was called away before his eyes
could see the completion of his last and perhaps most
cherished work. Indeed, were there no truth in such a text
as ours, there would be bitter satire, and not melting pathos,
in the fact that all the use he personally got of that on
which he spent his treasure, was the celebration in it of his
funeral obsequies. From such an incident might there
be drawn the mocking conclusion that life is vanity. But
life is never vanity, nor is the world worthless to any one
who really tries to do on earth some unselfish and worthy
work. The man whose memory we desire to cherish did
not despise the world ; but, as a true man should do, he
tried to use and make the most of it. He endeavoured to
improve it, and make it a scene of more elevated happiness
to himself and to all around him, and to all who should
come after him ; and no one shall say that he tried in vain.
His example of patient, earnest, and victorious struggle, in
which he rose from poverty to opulence, and from obscurity
to the highest service and honour which his city could
bestow ; his veneration for his country's story, the plea-
sure which he took in her very stones leading him to
rescue from out misuse, and to render worthy of its sacred
object, this great historic fane, would be themselves a
precious legacy ; while his activities as a public man, and
especially that stream of pure and healthy literature, of
useful information, which he helped to send into every land
and nearly every home in which the English tongue is
spoken, are surely results which make this life of o\\\%
worth living to achieve. Bravely he did the work which
his hand found to do ; fearlessly he took the good which
God provided ; and now, having had his happy turn, and
having fulfilled his hour — sooner, indeed, than we had
wished — he has cheerfully given place to others who follow.
Touched by the solemn lesson which his dying has im-
parted to the dedication of his offering, let us begin or carry
376 MEMOIR.
on our work for our day and jijeneration in the unselfish
spirit of those who by Christ do believe in God, and who,
not having received the earthly promises, if God so ordain
are willing to die in faith— confessing that we are strangers
and pilgrims on the earth, and desiring a better country,
that is, a heavenly.'
The career of the two brothers, William and Robert
Chambers, has been set forth with such interesting and
minute detail in the foregoing chapters of this work,
that not much remains to be added by way of incident.
It may not, however, be out of place to give here
some particulars as to the personal habits and character
of the two men, more especially of those qualities of
mind and disposition which rendered their lifelong
partnership and co-operation of so much advantage to
themselves and to the public, A high degree of literary
ability is rarely found associated in the same person with
serviceable business habits ; and this, not necessarily
from any fundamental inequality of mind between the
man of business and the man of letters, but mainly
because of the very opposite lines of thought which
they respectively cultivate, and of which the tendency
in each is to become habitual. Both pursuits, as in
the case of Grote, may be followed by the same indi-
vidual within certain lines ; but the essential elements
requisite to high achievement in either department of
effort, would almost appear to be, as a rule, mutu-
ally exclusive. Burns was a brilliant poet, but an
indifferent farmer; the Ettrick Shepherd could charm
the soul away into Fairyland, but he could not keep
business embarrassments from his door ; Rogers was a
PERSONAL CHARACTERISTICS. 377
prosperous banker, but only a mediocre writer of verses.
Among the higher names in literature, Scott to a
very considerable extent possessed the rare conjunction
in himself; but even he, while eminently successful as
an author, greatly miscalculated in his commercial
projects, and suffered accordingly. Whether William
and Robert Chambers would, apart from each other,
have risen to the height which, together, as authors and
fellow-publishers they attained to, is perhaps an idle
question; but there can be no reasonable doubt that
much of the material success and prosperity of both
was due to the extremely happy combination which
their respective types of mind and character enablqd
them to form.
In personal appearance the two brothers were not
much alike. William was about the middle size, thin,
muscular, and wiry; Robert slightly taller, and of a
fuller and more sanguine habit. Both were men of
marked appearance, more especially the younger, and
it was no uncommon thing for strangers to turn and
look after Robert Chambers in the street, certain
that he, though unkno\\Ti to them, was no ordinary
individual. In youth, William was dark in hair and
complexion ; Robert of a fairer type, with brown
hair; but at quite an early period of their lives their
hair was tinged with "white, and became wholly or
nearly so before they had reached the age of fifty.
This, however, in no way marked any premature decay
either of mental or bodily energy ; for Robert lived to
within a little of his seventieth year, and William
reached his eighty-fourth, both continuing their literary
labours almost to the last.
In the personal habits and mental characteristics of
378 MEMOIR.
the two brothers, there were, with certain points of
resemblance, almost as many points of departure as
in their personal appearance. William, in early and
middle life, was a man of quiet and reserved habits,
not caring to mix largely with his fellows, devoting all
his energies of mind and body to his business and its
concerns. Robert, while not less industrious and
painstaking in his own sphere of labour, lived, upon the
whole, a freer and larger life, was courted by society
and mingled readily in its enjoyments, kept a hospitable
table and was frequently at the tables of others.
William was inclined to be somewhat unyielding in
his business relations, while his own sterling integrity
and unvarying self-control tended to make him
but little indulgent towards the faults or weaknesses
of others ; yet upon occasion he could show real
kindness, and in private was known to do many
generous actions of which the world knew nothing,
Robert was not less upright in all his relations of life,
but was more ready to evince consideration for the
mistakes or misfortunes of others, benevolence being
one of the most striking traits in his character.
William was a man of business first, a man of letters
afterwards. Indeed, his efforts in literature may be
regarded as originally somewhat of an accident of his
calling as printer and bookseller ; he found it con-
venient and profitable to provide in this manner work
for his own press, and he followed out the practice with
characteristic perseverance and aptitude, till in a few
years he achieved both facility and success in the use of
the pen. Had he, instead of having been apprenticed
to an Edinburgh bookseller, become indentured to the
grocer in Tolbooth Wynd, Leith, who sent him sadly
WILLIAM CHAMBERS. 379
away as being too small and weak for the duties
assigned, it is just possible that, while he could hardly
have failed, from his splendid business qualities, to have
risen to the first rank of merchants in that ancient port,
he might never have sought to pen anything more endur-
ing than business advices and bills of lading. Robert,
no matter in what position of life he might have been
placed, would have drifted into literature. He was essen-
tially a literary man, loving learning and books for their
own sake, and endowed with an amazing versatility of
genius and an equally amazing capacity for work. It
was, therefore, the elements of power, the existing poten-
tialities, which these two remarkable brothers possessed
between them — each with his own individual faculties, and
these differing not so much in kind as in degree — that,
when welded together by a common interest, enabled
them to execute a series of labours, and to effect a suc-
cession of triumphs, which have rendered their names
conspicuous as publishers and producers of popular
literature. Each had precisely what the other required
to give the requisite force and stability to their under-
takings; and the combination of their resources was, as
we shall see, effected at the very time when their united
efforts were destined to be most serviceable to both.
A fuller consideration of the personal character-
istics of the two brothers will bring out the above
features more clearly. Both were men of unwearying
diligence, but the industry of each was variously
exemplified. William, as has been already indicated,
and as may be gathered from his own account
of his early privations and struggles, was a man
of formal and exact habits, somewhat reserved in
manner, who in business hours allowed nothing to stand
38o MEMOIR.
in the way of the work upon which he might he
engaged, and who carried out all his operations with
systematic, almost mechanical precision. This, indeed,
was one of the valuable secrets of his success.
He never put off till to-morrow what he could do to-
day ; and whatever he undertook to do, he did to his
very best, and expected every one about him to do the
same. In the preparation of his articles for the press,
he did not put much stress upon mere literary form ;
his chief object was, to have something definite to say,
and to say it as clearly and tersely as possible. With
him, literary grace was a secondary matter; lucidity,
the primary. When engaged upon any bit of literary
work, he allowed his whole mind to become engrossed
in it. In preparing his manuscript for the press, or
revising his proofs, he would rally his thoughts to the
best mode of expression by muttering to himself, at
times rising from his chair and walking about the
room, still continuing his half-audible remarks, until
the expression or idea he might be in search of
occurred to him, when he would hastily return to
his desk, resume his seat, dash down the words
that were required, and proceed with his task as
before. If similarly engaged, as he often was, in
the evenings in his own house, however much en-
grossed he might be in the work before him, the
moment the clock struck the hour of nine, down
dropped his pen, in went the stopper into his ink-glass,
and the whole thing was set aside and apparently
forgotten for the night. The supper-tray was then
brought in, the meal being of the simplest kind —
generally only a few biscuits, with the ingredients of a
single glass of toddy. These he partook of, chatting
SOCIAL HABITS. 381
pleasantly and happily the while to whoever might
be with him ; and by ten o'clock he was in bed,
appearing as regularly next morning at the breakfast
table at eight o'clock. Such was the simple tenor of
his daily habits from year to year.
But while not given to much festivity either in his own
house or abroad, he was exceedingly hap[)y to have at
his table from time to time such friends as Peter
Fraser, with his inimitable drolleries ; James Ballantine,
author of * Ilka blade o' grass,' and other fine lyrics ;
and Sheriff (Jordon, of versatile notoriety. On such
occasions, Dr Chambers exhibited a wealth of geniality
and bonhomie which those who knew him only in his
business hours would scarcely have expected. He was
an admirable racon/eur of Scotch stories, and could sing
with spirit and expression some of our old Scotch songs,
such as ' The Ewie wi' the crookit horn,' * Maggie
Lauder,' and the like. Or if an impromptu dance were
got up, he would foot it with the best. In later years
he was in terms of intimate friendship with Dean
Ramsay, and gave that genial divine not a {qw of the
telling anecdotes which have drawn tears of laughter
from many a reader of the Reminiscences. To visitors
his manner was homely and genial, and left upon them
the impression of a man who had a warm and generous
heart behind the transparent barrier of a slight out-
ward reserve.
A very pleasing feature in his character was his
love of domestic animals, especially of dogs. He and
his wife had in succession more than one canine pet,
and he was never tired of watching their peculiarities
and habits, encouraging their gambols, and narrating
their feats gf wisdom and trickery to his friends. Of
Y
382 MEMOIR.
more than one of them he has left some record in
the pages of Chambers^ Journal ; and their death, in
one or two cases, caused him more real pain than he
would probably have cared to make known. A donkey,
which answered to the name of Donald, and which he
kept at Glenormiston, was also a subject of much
interest to him, and the idiosyncrasies of this long-
eared friend afforded him on one occasion matter
for a sprightly and amusing paper.
William Chambers's life was, in the main, one of
arduous and unremitting labour. The habits which he
had acquired in early years remained in part with him to
the last. For instance, he always ate his food hastily —
it might almost be said, bolted it; a relic, doubtless,
of the time when he worked sixteen hours a day, and
allowed himself only a quarter of an hour for his meals.
Again, when he took a holiday anywhere, he generally
combined work with it, in the sense that he almost
invariably made his experiences, whether at home or
on the continent, the subject of one or more papers,
and sometimes of an occasional volume. UtiHty was
the beginning and end of all his occupations, whether
of work or pleasure. Even in his reading of books,
his early habits of incessant industry were present.
He usually read with pencil and note-book in hand, and
seldom perused Avith care any volume which he did
not intend to make some special use of, either in the
form of a review for the Joiir7ial, or as a source of
information on some subject which he had otherwise
in hand. As an exception to this, the Waverley
Novels may be noted. These he was fond of reading
time and again, and he has been heard to remark,
what is worthy of mention, that he looked upon the
BUSINESS HABITS. 383
writing of these novels as a lost art, in respect that
Scott was able, in a degree not since equalled, to com-
bine in the same book at once a romance and a history.
He took little interest in books of verse, and exhibited
at no time any great taste even for the higher
English poets. But any work relating to the history
of Scotland, especially to the history of its ancient
families, would at all times command his interest, and
he made good use of his reading in these departments
by contributions to the yipwr/za/ and otherwise.
By the outside world, he was in some respects never
quite understood. Many of those who came in contact
with him in his business capacity, did not fully appre-
ciate the extraordinary earnestness of purpose which he
displayed, the sharp and, as it might seem, peremptory
method in which he disposed of matters of detail
over which others might have been inclined to waste
hours of debate. With a kind of intuitive perception,
he saw quickly and clearly the line which he ought,
in any given set of circumstances, to follow ; and
the success which had attended his early eftbrts gave
him a degree of confidence in his own judgment, which
to others less clear-headed and decisive might seem
slightly overweening. But any appearance of ostenta-
tion or haughtiness which might characterise him at
such times was merely superficial, and was born of the
circumstance that he never could see any advantage
in wasting a great many words over matters which
admitted of immediate settlement, and that he was
strongly alive to the fact that a great deal of what
passes both in individuals and public bodies as busi-
ness activity, is mere idle fuss and palaver. On
the other hand, those connected with him in the
384 MEMOIR.
operations, whether literary or otherwise, of his own
business estabhshment, found him at all times most
willing to listen to suggestions, even upon his own
plans, and if these suggestions were feasible and useful,
he would without hesitation adopt them. For instance,
in his later years each of his literary compositions was
submitted to his nephew, Mr Robert Chambers, on
whose judgment he had reliance, and to many of whose
suggestions he readily deferred. He was, moreover,
warmly appreciative of all work that was well done
by others, and, with the heartiness of one who knows
and understands how much literary or artistic effort
is stimulated by the approval of one qualified to judge,
was ever ready, in a few kindly words of praise, to
express his satisfaction with any well-executed task.
At the same time, he expected his ultimate instructions
to be attended to with the assiduity which marked all
his own operations — an assiduity, indeed, which he never
relaxed, until old age and increasing bodily infirmities
rendered such relaxation absolutely necessary.
His powers as a writer having developed late, and
the field of his purely literary and intellectual attain-
ments having been all along somewhat circumscribed,
it is difficult to see how William Chambers could have
accomplished, as a pioneer of popular literature, what
he actually lived to achieve, but for the fact, as
already mentioned, that he found in his brother
Robert precisely those mental and literary qualities
which his own individual acquirements desiderated.
The brothers both possessed, in a high degree,
that invaluable accomplishment in any sphere of
effort, the power of originating work ; and while
William, in founding Chambers's Journal, truly diag-
CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL. 385
nosed, and skilfully provided for, the public wants in
the way of readable and instructive literature, it may
be safely averred that that Journal could scarcely have
continued to hold the ground which it immediately
gained, but for the fortunate circumstance that Robert
had from the beginning enlivened its pages by his
regular contributions, and that at the end of three
months he entered into partnership with his brother
for the joint-conduct of the magazine. No jjossible
combination of individual powers could have been
more happy, or, in the end, more successful. The
one brother was the complement of the other. For
all business requirements, William's industry, frugality,
prudence, and foresight were eminently suitable ; while
for the literary necessities of the project, Robert's
versatility and elegance as a writer, his diligence in
collecting and working-up stray materials, his percep-
tion of what was suited to the popular taste in history
and poetry, science and art, rendered him an admirable
coadjutor in the conduct of the Journal uj^on which
the whole fortune of the brothers was now staked.
It must not be forgotten that when, in 1832, Cham-
bers's Journal was originated, the two brothers were
neither weak in their pecuniary resources, nor meagre
in their literary equipment for the work. William,
it is true, had not up to that time written anything
of much note, although he had exhibited his literary
industry in his Book of Scotland and in the Gazdteer;
but he had for over a do/en years successfully con-
ducted his business of bookseller and printer, and had
already, as the result of economy and hard work,
gathered not a few golden eggs into his basket. On
the other hand, Robeit, while he had also carried on
386 MEMOIR.
profitably for a similar period the business of book-
selling, had at the same time made for himself no
mean reputation as an author, and had received con-
siderable sums of money for the copyright of his several
works — for the Traditions of Edinburgh alone, between
three and four hundred pounds. His literary achieve-
ments between 1822 and 1832 have not indeed hitherto
had full justice done to them. ' Literary composi-
tion,' as William says elsewhere in this volume, ' came
upon Robert like an inspiration at nineteen years of age.'
This was in 1821, in which year the younger brother
began the periodical called The Kaleidoscope, the most
of which he personally wrote, William executing the
work of printer and publisher. The little venture was
not successful, and scarcely perhaps deserved to be;
for, while it contained many clever and spirited contri-
butions which clearly gave promise of future literary
power, its contents were on the whole jejime and
amateurish. In 1822, Robert Chambers issued his
first book, Illustrations of the Author of Waverley ;
a somewhat bold attempt on the part of a youth of
twenty to solve the enigma of the Great Unkno\\Ti.
The list of his published works during the next twelve
years is certainly startling, and brings into prominence
the extraordinary literary and intellectual precocity of
the author. In succession to the Illustrations, pub-
lished in 1822, he wrote the Traditions of Edinburgh,
2 vols., which appeared in 1823-24 ; The Fires in Edin-
burgh, in 1824; Walks in EdinburgJi, in 1825;
Popular Rhymes of Scotland, i vol., and the Picture of
Scotland, 2 vols., in 1826 ; History of the Rebellion of
1745, 2 vols., and the Rebellions of 1638-1660, 2 vols.,
in 1829; Rebellions <?/ 1689-17 15, i vol., and Ballads
SUCCESS OF JOURNAL. 387
and Songs, 3 vols., in 1829; the Life of James I. of
England, 2 vols., in 1830; Scottish Jests and Anecdotes,
in 1832; Reekiana, in 1S33 ; the Biographical Dic-
tionary of Eminent Scotsmen, 4 vols., 1832-34; and
Jacobite Memoirs, in 1834. That is, in all, twenty-
five volumes, many of them of great literary merit and
permanent historical value, written within the space
of twelve years, by a young man between the twentieth
and thirty-second year of his age, and during the
intervals when not occupied at the back of his counter
as bookseller. In authorship so youthful, so courageous,
and so prolific, the annals of English literature can
hardly parallel the achievement.
The starting of Chambers's Journal, involving at once
a great outlay and heavy pecuniary responsibilities,
was certainly a bold venture on the part of William
Chambers — so bold, indeed, that Robert, while he
promised his brother all the literary assistance in his
power, was disposed to dissuade him from it. Yet the
venture was by no means what it was long popularly
and vaguely supposed to be, merely a chance effort by
two penniless youths, which, by strange good luck,
took root and flourished, nobody could tell how. Luck,
in the popular acceptation, had something to do with
its success, just as luck, in the same sense, had to do
with the success of The Lay of the Last A/ instrel and the
romance of Waverlcy. But in both cases, success was
due to solid causes ; and just as these and other works
of Scott may be regarded as having grow^n, by a process
of evolution, out of his earlier study of Border ballads
and historical antiquities, so Chambers's Journal wzs the
natural product of a course of literary eftbrt which
amply qualified its projectors to meet the public taste
388 MEMOIR.
for popular literature. They were not a couple of young
men trying to open the oyster of the world with no more
experience of its ways than is to be learned within the
walls of a school or college. They had lived in it for
thirty years, and learned to cope with its difficulties ; their
school had been in great part the trying but salutary
one of hard experience ; they had both travelled on foot
over nearly every county in Scotland — William for his
Gazetteer, and Robert for his Picture of Scotland — and
in this way must not only have gathered large collec-
tions of popular lore, but acquired valuable insight
into the popular tastes in the matter of literature.
These experiences could scarcely fail to be of advantage
to them when they projected and issued Chambers's
Journal. William's object was clearly stated in his
preface to the first number; it was to * take advantage
of the universal appetite for instruction which at present
exists,' and 'to supply that appetite with food of the
best kind.' The success which from the first attended
the magazine, is the best proof that the right kind of
literary fare had been provided.
At the end of the fourteenth number it was resolved
between the brothers that Robert should cease to
conduct a separate business, and that the energies of
both should be concentrated on the Journal, Robert
taking upon himself the chief duties of editor. William
has frankly stated that the permanent hold on the
public mind which the Journal fortunately obtained,
was undoubtedly owing, in a very great degree, to the
leading articles from the pen of his brother. His own
duties lay mainly in the commercial administration of
the business. This apportionment of labour, by which
the stronger faculties of each were duly exercised, was
ROBERT CHAMBERS. 389
eminently qualified to give solidity to their joint
undertakings. Personally, Robert had, as he writes to
a friend, * hardly anything to do with business,' and
this quite suited his studious habits, enabling him
to devote his whole powers to literary labour. In
addition to his regular contributions to the Journal,
he, as mentioned in previous chapters, projected
various important works published by the firm, and
found time, besides, to write many volumes dealing
with social, historical, and scientific topics, a detailed
estimate of which does not come within the scope of
the present sketch.
From boyhood, Robert Chambers had shown himself
possessed of high mental powers, with a quick and
retentive memory.* He was in the habit of reading
* The following receipt for school-fees and books for William
and Robert Chambers, when they were aged respectively eleven
and nine years, and in which the teacher undercharges himself by
fourpence, is of interest. In the spelling of his name, their
father formed an exception to the rest of his family. When
a schoolboy, he had capriciously changed it to Chalmers. His
sons, on their part, returned to the correct and original spelling of
Chambers.
Mk Chalmers, Merchant, Peebles,
To James Si-oane.
For Education to his sons Messrs William and Robert, from Martin-
mas 1810 to Whitsunday 1811, deducting 2 months for each during
said time, for absence on account of bad health ^o 13 4
Ditto I quarter to Mr William at the evening school in Winter 050
For a copy of the Rudiments to Mr Robert on 4th October 1810. 013
For Ditto to Mr William on 31st January o i 3
For Grammatical Exercises to William on 30th April 013
;Ci I 9
Mr Robert from Whitsunday to Martinmas 181 1 o 10 o
(,\ II 9
Pbebles, ^th October 1811, — Received payment.
JAMES SLOANE.
390 MEMOTR.
every bit of print that came into his hands ; and instead
of joining in the more active games of boyhood, would
be content to sit for liours in some retired part of the
house, reading by himself At quite an early age, he
had read a considerable number of the classics of
English hterature. As he grew up, his love of books
and learning increased with his years, and at an age
when most professional men have hardly completed
their education, he was already the author of several
popular works. Beginning business for himself in a
humble way at the age of sixteen years, he carried into
it his general habits of industry. The books which he
kept contain a note of every day's sales, however
small ; each book being named, with the price he
received for it, and the profit which he had on each
particular transaction. In literary matters, likewise, he
was a diligent note-taker; and in the course of his
many rambles over Scotland, he lost no opportunity,
as his note-books show, of jotting down all available
memoranda of old traditions, superstitious usages,
popular rhymes and proverbs, and folk-lore generally.
He was in the habit also of sketching any picturesque
old ruin, place of historical interest, or remarkable
natural feature of the districts through which he passed ;
and in this way he gained original and curious materials
for many of his better-known books. In his younger
years, he wrote a good deal of verse, much of which
is of a semi-humorous kind, having reference to
some social or domestic incident ; the best of these
being his 'Annuitant's Answer,' written in reply to
George Outram's well-kno\vn song, 'The Annuity.'
He had likewise a distinct lyrical vein, which he
might have cultivated with sfood result. This is shown
LITERARY IfADITS. 391
in the beautiful lines * To the Evening Star,' printed
in this volume (pp. 178-79), as also in his spirited and
patriotic poem * To Scotland,' beginning :
Scotland ! the land of all I love,
The land of all that love me ;
Land whose green sod my youth has trod,
Whose sod shall lie above me !
Hail, country of the brave and good,
Hail, land of song and story ;
Land of the uncorrupted heart,
Of ancient faith and glory ! *
It is not astonishing to find that one so imbued with
love of country, looked back with a kind of poetical
regret upon the ill-fated Stuarts, and their struggles to
regain their lost sovereignty. Without approving of
the attempts of the Jacobites, he yet was warmly
attracted by their heroism and self-devotion, and
followed up with enthusiastic diligence all traces of the
last two rebellions in Scotland, the history of which he
has so graphically told. To this enthusiasm in the
lost cause, he was indebted for one of the warmest
friendships of his life, namely, his intimacy with the
family of Sir Peter Threipland of Fingask, where he
was a frequent visitor, and a great favourite. t
Robert Chambers's literary habits, as may be inferred
from the amount and quality of his work, were of
the most assiduous kind. He was so constituted
that remarkably little sleep sufficed for him when in
health, seldom more than five out of the twenty-four
hours being so spent. He read extensively in all
* Podical Remains of Kobat Chambers, LL.D. (Edin. 18S3).
+ See The Thyeiplands of Fin^ask : A Tatnily Manoir, by
R. Chambers (Edin. 18S0).
392 MEMOIR.
departments of literature, and was in the habit of
making copious notes or extracts, either for present
purposes, or as materials for future use, scarcely a day
passing without some addition hcing made to his stores of
manuscript. His method of work was, upon the whole,
regular and systematic. He breakfasted at eight in the
morning, and afterwards wrote in his own house till one
o'clock, at which hour he visited the office, saw his
brother, spent a few hours in the disposal of manu-
scripts from contributors, or other business that might
fall to be transacted by him, and then walked for an
hour or two if the weather were favourable. After
dinner, when not entertaining company or dining abroad,
he was generally in his study again by eight o'clock,
when he continued his work till about one o'clock next
morning. Notwithstanding his late hour of retiring, he
was generally awake early, when he would remain in bed
reading for an hour or so, always having some favourite
volume by him for this purpose — frequently Horace,
whose odes delighted him, and almost the whole of
which he had by heart.
But while there was system in this method of work,
there was none of the monotonous regularity with
which Southey, for instance, performed his literary
tasks. Robert Chambers's social instincts were strong,
hence his labours were delightfully blended with the
pleasures of friendship, and the light and love of his
own fireside. He was fond of music ; and his wife
being gifted with fine musical faculties, which were
inherited by her daughters, scarcely an evening passed
without its little family concert — wife and eldest daughter
at the harp and piano, and the father on the flute.
These musical evenings in Robert Chambers's house
FRIENDS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 393
formed a feature of ?",<linburgh society for the time ; and
it was no uncommon thing to find gathered in his draw-
ing-room the chief representative men of literature and
law, science and art, in the northern metropolis, as
well as the humbler ' waifs and strays ' of artistic and
literary life. Visitors from all parts of the world were
at all times welcome at No. i Doune Terrace, and
with these might be seen commingled some of the
most notable men of their time — Lord Jeffrey, Lord
Cockburn, Christopher North, Lockharl, the Ettrick
Shepherd, De Quincey, Dr Moir ('Delta'), Professor
Aytoun, George and Andrew Combe, Lord Ivory,
Sir Adam Ferguson, Patrick Robertson, besides many
noted Edinburgh wits and conversationalists who
'had their day,' and, as is mostly the fate of such
ephemera, have 'ceased to be.' He also carried on
an immense correspondence with literary and scientific
men, and left behind him large collections of letters,
many of them of great interest. These collections
embrace almost every name of note in the world of
literature and science from 1825 to 187 1. They contain
long manuscript notes on the Traditions of Edinburgh,
with various letters, in the well-known hand of the
Author of Waverley ; letters from the Ettrick Shepherd,*
Southey, John Calt, Allan Cunningham, De Quincey,
* The following note from liic Sheplicnl is delightfully charac-
teristic :
Altrive, Scf'ttmber iS, 1835.
Dear Rohert — Voii know or shnulJ know that my literary pride is very
easily hurt, hut that is no reason wliy we should not be friends as usual. I
believe you have not .1 greater admirer in Scotland than myself, but I will not
succumb to you that any man is superior to mc as a poet. I introduce to you a
young countryman of our own— Mr Dickson^who s.iys he cannot leave
Scotland without first seeing your face. — Yours ever,
JAMES HOGG.
394 MEMOTR.
Carlyle, Macaulay, Darwin, Sir Charles Lyell, Sir
Roderick Murchison, and many others whose names
are now set in the roll of fame. These letters evince
the catholicity of his opinions, the friendship and esteem
with which he was regarded by his contemporaries, and
the wide and general scope of his faculties, which enabled
him to pursue intelligently even studies that naturally
seemed far apart. If his health broke down at an
earlier period of life than was the case with his brother,
it must be remembered that the younger of the two
men was intrusted with that department of work which
is the most exacting and exhaustive, and that he
engaged in that work with an energy and persistence
which few men have equalled.
Such is a brief outline of the habits and character of
the two men who founded Chambers^s Journal, and
whose names have long been associated together in
almost every country where the English language is
spoken. The trials and struggles of their early years, the
success which at a later period rewarded their eftbrts,
the munificence with which the elder brother spent a
portion of his wealth in purposes of public utility, and
the valuable contributions to literature and science
which were made by the younger — all these are
matters of history, reflecting honour upon the men
themselves and upon the country which gave them
birth. It is not too much to say that even in the far
future the hearts of the lowly will be cheered, and
the hopes of the aspiring strengthened, by the story of
these two Scottish brothers— William and Robert
Chambers.
INDEX.
Aberdeen, Earl of, re-opens St Gilei'
Cathedral, 366.
Adam, Robert, 351.
Ailie Giiroy, by VV. Chambers, 356.
Alexander, Jamie, street porter, 112.
Alison, Rev. Archibald, 79.
Ancient Sea-Margins, by R.
Chambers, 283.
Anecdotes — Laird Baird, the Coven-
anter, 8 ; Dr Dalgliesh, parish
minister of Peebles, 11; Willie
Paterson's boots, 12 ; Tammas and
the strolling-players, 13 ; Candle
Nell, 14, 15; daft Jock Grey, 18;
Laird Grieve, 19, 20; Drummer
Will, 22; Miss Ritchie's, 23; Tam
Grieve, the joiner, 24 ; Tam Fleck
and7oj'c///«j, 25 : William Chambers,
weaver, 26, 27 : Margaret Kerr and
the parish minister, 28, 29 ; Andrew
Gemmclls, the beggar, 33 ; Jamie
Hall, the stocking-maker, 38 ; Kirsty
Cranston and the big words, 40 ;
James Gray, the burgh teacher, 41 ;
school punishment, 43 ; the two
boarders at Sloane's school, 44 ;
Howey, the assistant at Sloane's
school, 46; Robbie Ballantyne and
the Shorter Catechism, 47 ; Jock
Forsyth punished, 50; the story of
a military substitute, 61 ; Peter
Cairns, auctioneer, 81 ; Tammie Tod
and the sermon, 89 ; a voluntary
prisoner in thcTolboolh, 102; Jamie
Alexander, 112; Claverhousc, Vis-
count Dundee, 128 ; Major Weir,
128; Deacon Brodie, 129; Pawkie
Macgouggy, 166; Colli-Gosperado,
167; Matthewson, the tj-pefounder,
169 ; Scott's remarks to Lockhart on
the Traditions 0/ Edinburgh, 206;
David Bridges, 208 ; James Hogg's
Festival, 255.
Arthur's Seat, 127.
Auvergne. extinct volcanoes of. 314.
Aytoun, Professor, 303.
Baker Turnbull, 14.
Barric's Collection, 50.
Beaconsfield, Earl of, 352, 353.
I'eattie, Life of, by Forbes, 302.
Begg, Mrs, youngest sister of Burns,
290, 291 ; assisted by Robert
Chambers, 292.
Bell, Sir Charles, 281.
Bell-rock Lighthouse, the, 309.
Bills, businesses conducted by means
of, 319.
Biographical Dictionary 0/ Eminent
Scotsmen, edited by R. Chambers,
213, 387-
Birkbeck Institution founded, 230.
Bo<'i: 0/ Days, by R. Chambers, 305,
307 ; effect on author's health, 308.
Book 0/ Scotland, by W. Chambers,
22s, 385.
Bore-stone, the, 127.
Borough Moor, the, 127.
Box-beds, the old Scottish, 7.
Braid Hills, the, 127.
Brewster, Sir David, optical toy
invented by, 171.
Bridges, David, draper, 207, ao8.
Bright, John, 35a.
396
MEMOIR.
Hrodie, Deacon, story of, 139.
Burdett, Sir Francis, 302.
Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, 302.
Burns, Robert, letter written during
his last illness, 120 ; Life and
Works of, by R. Chambers, 290, 291,
343 ; profits of edition given to the
Beggs, 292.
Business rules, three good, 318.
Cairns, Peter, auctioneer, 80, Si.
Campbell, Alexander, editor oi Albyn's
Anthology, 186.
Campbell, Lady Charlotte, 203.
Candlemaker Row Festival, 255.
Carfrae's book auction, 80.
Carpenter, Dr, 307.
Carruthers, Dr R., 274.
Cauper Jock, 15.
Cave, Edward, 238.
Chambers, David, brother of William
and Robert, career of, 332.
Chambers, Ephraim, his Cyclopedia
or Universal Dictionary, 270.
Chambers, James, father of William
and Robert, begins business, 27 ;
marriage to Jean Gibson, 36 ; affects
the study of music and astronomy,
10, 37 ; failure of handloom weav-
ing, 59 ; begins business as a draper,
59 ; literary tastes of, 64 ; cheated
by French prisoners, 71 ; failure in
business, 72 ; settlement in Edin-
burgh, 75 ; want of knowledge of
the world, 77 ; accepts a situation
as manager of a salt manufactory,
87 ; too independent for a situation,
118; views as to the upbringing of
children, 119; unfortunate lawsuit,
222 ; death, 224, 389.
Chambers, James, brother of William
and Robert, 171 ; death of, 238.
Chambers, Robert, birth of, at
Peebles, 5 ; autobiographical notes
and descriptions, 6-10; strange con-
genital malformation, 39 ; account
of his early schooldays, 49-56; early
education and reading, 51-58 ;
removal to Edinburgh, 87; begins
to compose verses, 125 : studies
the old buildings in the Old Town,
126 ; knowledge of the history of
Old Edinburgh, 128 : letter relating
his early struggles in Edinburgh,
129 ; too poor to go to the university,
131 : acts as a clerk, 132; discharged
as incompetent, 133 ; begins business
as a bookseller, 135 ; his home in
Leith Walk, 138 ; literary composi-
tion, 170 ; edits the Kaleidoscope,
171 ; habits and occupation, 180-182 ;
introduction to Sir Walter Scott,
182-184 ; second interview with
Scott, 188 ; Scott's commission to
transcribe poems, 189; removal to
India Place, 189 ; his Illustrations
of the Author of Waverley, 190;
a love affair, 196; the Traditions of
Edinburgh, 197-201 ; Scott's visit
along with Lockhart, to, 206 ; popu-
lar account of Edinburgh fires, 210;
Walks in Edinburgh, 210; Popular
Rhymes of Scotland, 210; Picture
of Scotlatid, 211 ; his great literary
industry, 212 ; his History of the
Rebellion of 1745, and other works,
213, 214; poems for private circula-
tion, 216, 217 ; letters from Sir
Walter Scott, 218, 219; joins in
partnership with his brother, 237 ;
popularity of his leading articles and
essays in Chambers's yoiimnl, 239 ;
life of Scott, 242 ; earnest literary
labour, 252 ; the writing of a History
of the British Empire, and History
of the English Language and
Literature, 265 ; letter to Hugh
Miller, 267 ; his work on the Land
of Burns, 273 ; Cyclopaedia of Eng-
lish Literatrire projected, 273 ;
Romantic Scottish Ballads, 276 ;
his Select Writings, 276 ; residence
at St Andrews, 2S0 ; elected a mem-
ber of the Royal Society of Edin-
burgh, 2S1 ; geological studies, 282;
Ancient Sea-Margins, 283 ; tract
on life-assurance, 283 ; visits Swit-
zerland and Norway, 285, 286 ; Life
INDEX.
397
and Works of Bums, ago, 291 ;
liberality to the sister of Burns, 292;
visit to the Karoe Islands and Ice-
land, 294 ; publishes Tracings in
Iceland and the Faroe Islands,
295 ; History 0/ Scotland, 295 ;
Domestic Annals of Scotland, 296 ;
visit to London, 296 ; becomes a
member of the Edinburgh Merchant
Company, 298 ; lecture on Edinburgh
Merchants and Merchandise of Old
Times, by, 298 ; edits Forbes'
Memoirs 0/ a Dankinf; House,
300; publication of Edinburgh
Papers, 302 ; sketch of the Old
Theatre Royal, 303 ; visits America,
30s ; removal to London, 305 ; the
Book 0/ Days commenced, 305 ;
elected a member of the Athena:um
Club, 306 ; pleasant intercourse with
London celebrities, 307 ; appointed
a judge in the International Exhibi-
tion, 307 ; visit to France and Del-
glum, 307 ; receives the degree of
LL.D., 307; taxing nature of the
work on the Book of Days, 308 ;
return to St Andrews, 309 ; death
of his wife and daughter Janet, 309;
quiet home life, 324; second mar-
riage, 325; Life of SmolUtt, 325;
close of literary career, 325 ; views
on Spiritualism, 326; death of second
wife, 328 ; visit to England, 329 ; fail-
ing health, 330; death, 331; funeral,
332 ; funeral sermon, 333 ; private
character, 335 ; liberality and gene-
rosity, 335 ; early love of books,
337 ; literary character, 339-343 ;
enormous literary industry, 344 ;
veneration for Edinburgh anticjuitics,
350 ; personal appearance, 377 ; the
two brothers compared, 378, 379;
Robert's share in starting Chambers's
Journal, 384, 385 ; his literary and
intellectual precocity, 386, 387; lit-
erary habits, 3S9-392 ; friends and
correspondents, 392-394.
Chambers, Robert, son of Dr Robert
Chambers, 357, 3C7-368, 384.
Chambers, William, birth of, at
Peebles, 5 ; education and school
experiences, 40-47 ; Sandy Elder's
library, 56 ; keeping a note-book,
58 ; recollections of the French war,
60 ; Sunday in Peebles, 63, 64 ;
attends the plays given by the
French prisoners, 71 ; failure of his
father, 72 ; removal to Edinburgh,
73 ; a struggle with poverty, 77 ;
thinks of trj-ing the book-trade, 80,
82 ; apprenticed to John Sutherland,
bookseller, 87 ; removal of his family
to Joppa Pans, 87 : trying experi-
ences, 91-95 ; attempts at self-educa-
tion, 107 ; scientific studies, 111-115;
close of his apprenticeship, 139;
starts in business, 148 ; early
struggles, 150-155; writes an account
of David Ritchie, the original of the
Black Dwarf, 157 ; purchase of a
printing-press, 157 ; produces a
pocket edition of the Songs of
burns, 160; opens circulating lib-
rary, 164 ; writes an account of the
Scottish Gipsies, 170; prints the
Kaleidoscope, 171; success in busi-
ness, and removal to Droughton
Street, 189; first visit to London,
200 ; writes the Book of Scotland,
225 ; assists in writing the Catetteer
of Scotland, 225 ; severe illness, 227;
Chamberis Edinburgh Journal
published, 232 ; great success of,
234 ; founding of the firm of W. & R.
Chambers, 237 ; interviews with
James Hogg, 254 ; issue of Infor-
mation for tlu i'eople, 264 ; Educa-
tional Course, 265 ; visit to America,
303 ; visit to the Netherlands, 265 ;
the writing of a I'our in Holland
and the Rhine Countries, 265 ;
issue of Chambers's Miscellany,
269 ; Chambers's Eiuycloptrdia pro-
jected, 269 ; Things as they are in
America, 303; Sydney Smith, 311 ;
Miss Mitford, 313; visit to Germany,
314; interviews with Sir Adam
Ferguson, 316, 317; three business
598
MEMOIR.
niles, 318 ; losses tlirouRh the Lon-
don agtincy, 319; presented with the
freedom of the burgh of Peebles,
321 ; founding of the Chambers In-
stitution in Peebles, 321 ; remarks
on the works issued by W. & R.
Chambers, 323 ; the virtue of self-
reliance enforced, 338 ; elected Lord
Provost of Edinburgh, 322, 348 ;
scheme of City Improvement,
348-352 ; presented at Court, 353 ;
trips in the Pharos, 353-355 ; later
writings, 356 ; restoration and re-
opening of St Giles' Cathedral,
Edinburgh, 357-371 ; failing health,
362, 363 ; his death, 365 ; previous
offer of a baronetcy by the Queen,
365 ; funeral service in St Giles",
371, 372 ; burial at Peebles, 371-374;
pulpit references, 369-370, 374-376 ;
personal appearance, 377 ; literary
habits, 378-3S1 ; social do., 3S1, 382;
business do., 382-384; advantages
of partnership with his brother, 384-
387 ; causes of the early success of
Chavihers' s Journal, 387, 388.
Chambers' s Journal, first publication
of, 232 ; great success, 234 ; how
read by the Galloway shepherds,
245 ; religious persecution, 246 ; con-
tinued popularity 266 ; essays con-
tributed by R. Chambers, 341 ;
causes of its earl^' success, 384-388.
Clapperton, John, 168.
Clarinda, the, of Bums, 253.
Clarke, William, musician, 79.
Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee, 128.
Clutterbuck, Captain, erroneous con-
jecture regarding, 193.
Clyde, Lord, 307.
Combe, Dr Andrew, 281.
Combe, George, 281.
Constable, Archibald, publisher, 183 ;
letter of thanks from R. Chambers
to, 185 ; refuses to publish Illustra-
tions of the AutJior of Waverley,
192 ; Miscellany published by, 212.
Cooper Gibson, 14.
Cornucopia, an Edinburgh journal, 231.
Coutts & Co., bankers, 301.
Cunningham, Allan, letter to, from
R. Chambers, 243 ; reply by, 244.
Cyclopcrdia of English Literature,
projected by R. Chambers, 273 ;
assistance in the preparation of, by
Dr R. Carruthers, 274.
Dalgliesh, Rev. Dr, parish minister of
Peebles, 11 ; reproved by Margaret
Kerr, 28, 29.
Dalrymple, John, cloth-merchant, 299.
Darwin, Charles, on the parallel roads
of Glenroy, 2S2.
Denovan. John C, poet, 156.
Dick, Lady Anne, 203.
Disraeli, Benjamin, 352, 353.
Dotnestic Antials of Scotland, the, by
R. Chambers, 296.
Douglas, Gavin, his translation of
Virgil, 53.
Dowie, Mrs, daughter of R. Chambers,
306, 331.
Dredgy, the, 19.
Drummer Will, 22.
Ducie, Lord, 297.
Edge worth, Maria, 311.
Edinburgh Advertiser, the, 218.
Edinburgh, Duke of, 352.
Edinburgh, Old Tolbooth of, 98-107 ;
Traditions of, by R. Chambers,
197-209 ; Edinburgh Merchants and
IMerchandise in Old Times, a lecture
by R. Chambers, 298 ; papers on,
by R. Chambers, 302 ; City Im-
provement Act secured by W.
Chambers, 322, 350-352 ; old houses,
34S-350 ; death-rate reduced, 352.
Elgin, Dowager Countess of, 314.
Encyclopaedia, CJiambers's, projected,
269.
Epistle by a Distressed Director,
poem by R. Chambers, 284.
Faucher, Leon, 314.
Ferguson, Sir Adam, 315 ; sketch of
the career of, 316 ; visit of, to Hall-
yards with W. Chambers, 317.
INDEX.
399
Fielding, value of, as a novelist, 56.
Findlater, Dr Andrew, acting editor of
Cluivibers's Encyclopiedia, 269.
Fingask Castle, 324.
Fires in Edinburgh, by R. Chambers,
210, 386.
Forbes, Rev. Bishop, 215.
Forbes, Sir William, banker, 301.
Foulis, Thomas, goldsmith, 299.
Fratice : Its History and Rii'oliitioiis,
by W. Chambers, 322, 356.
Franklin, Benjamin, 169.
French prisoners, behaviour of, in
Peebles, 6S-72.
Frith, Mrs Robert, marriage of, to
R. Chambers, 325.
Fyfe, Peter, amateur artist, 163 ; his
illustration of the Scottish gipsies,
170.
Galloway, George, poet, 155.
Gazetteer <i/ Scotland, 225-227, 385,
388.
Gemmells, Andrew, prototype of Edic
Ochiltree, 33.
George IV. in Edinburgh, 182.
Geysers, the, of Iceland, visited by
R. Chambers, 295.
Gibson, Jean, mother of William and
Robert Chambers, character and
appearance of, 10, 36.
Gibsons of Newby, 31.
Giltillan, Robert, poet, 155.
Gipsies, an account of the Scottish, by
W. Chambers, 170.
Glacial Phenomena, R. Chambers on,
342-
Gladstone, William, offers a baronetcy
to W. Chambers, 365.
Glenormiston, the estate of, 315,
362-363, 382.
Glenroy, the parallel ro.ids of, 282.
GoUi-Gospcrado, a savoury dish,
167.
Cjranimar-schools, value of, 51.
CJray, James, teacher, Peebles, 41.
Greyfriars Churchyard, Edinburgh,
127.
Grieve, David, of Jedderficid, 30.
Griffin, Richard, kiodncss of, to W.
Chambers, 144.
Hall, MrsS. C, 311.
Hallyards, house of, 316.
Hamilton, John, song-writer, 79.
Hamilton of Inncrwick, 298.
Hamilton, Thomas, first Earl of
Haddington, 160.
Handsel Monday in Peebles, 19.
Harrison, Lord Provost, 367.
Hay, William, architect, 364.
Haystoun, near Peebles, 31.
Historical Sketch 0/ St Giles' Cathe-
dral, by W. Chambers, 364.
History 0/ Peeblesshire, by W.
Chambers, 322.
History of the Indian Mutiny,
Chambers's, 307.
History 0/ the Rebellion of 1745, by
R. Chambers, 213.
Hodgson, Dr W. B., 307.
Hogg, James, the Ettrick Shepherd,
his opinion of R. Chambers, 209;
reminiscences of, 354 ; his Candle-
maker Row festival, 255 ; monument
to, in Vale of Yarrow, 263 ; letter to
R. Chambers, 393.
Hogmanay in Peebles, 18, 19.
Holyrood, Sanctuary of, 97, 349.
Hope, Edward, merchant, 29'>
Hunt, Leigh, start o( London Journal
by, 247; letter to, from R. Chambers,
248; letters from, to R. Chambers,
250, 293.
Huxley, Professor, 307.
Illustrations 0/ the Author of
Waverley, refused by Constable,
192 ; first edition printed and pub-
lished by W. Chambers, 193, 386.
Information for tlu People, Cham-
bers's, 264-
Jacobite Memoirs, by R. Cliambcr!>,
216, 387.
Johnson, Samuel, 152.
Johnstone, John, printer, 2(8.
Joppa Pans, near Portobellu, 87: the
!»alt-makcrs of, 117.
400
MEMOIR.
Kaleidoscope, issue of, 171 ; conclud-
ing number of, 179, 386.
Kemble, John, in Edinburgh, no.
Kent's Cavern visited by R. Chambers,
329-
Kerr, Margaret, grandmother of Wil-
Uam and Robert Chambers, 27.
Kirk of Field, 127.
Kirkwood, Miss Anne, married to R.
Chambers, 217.
Kirsty Cranston's school, 40.
Knight, Charles, publisher, 234.
Knox, William, poet, 155.
Lackington, James, bookseller, 146.
Laird Baird, of Peebles, 8.
Lamartine, M., 314.
Lauder, Sir Thomas Dick, on the
parallel roads of Glenroy, 2S2.
Leeds, Duke of, ancestors of, 300.
Lees, Rev. J. Cameron, D.D., 367,
369-370, 372, 374.
Leila, R. Chambers's love affair vv'ith,
196 ; her unhappy marriage, 335 ;
provision made for, 336.
Leith Walk, 141, 152.
Lewis, Stewart, 172.
Life assurance, R. Chambers on,
283.
Life o/yames I., by R. Chambers, 213,
387.
London Jonrnal established by Leigh
Hunt, 247.
Lottery tickets, sale of, 95, 96.
Lumsden, James, artist, 52.
Lyon in Mottrning, a. Jacobite ^IS.,
215. 34°-
Macculloch, Dr, on the parallel roads
of Glenroy, 2S2.
M'Diarmid, John, of the Dumfries
Courier, 284, 285.
Mackenzie, Henry, 198, 209.
Maclehose, Mrs, Burns's 'Clariuda,'
253-
Magdalene Bridge, 121.
Marwuck, J. D., 351.
Matthewson, an Edinburgh tj'pe^
founder, 169.
Memoir of R. Cliambers, written by
W. Chambers, 323.
Alemoirs of a Banking House, by
Forbes, 300.
Mentone, wintering at, 322.
Merchant Company of Edinburgh, 298.
Mettray, juvenile reformatory at, 314.
Miller, Hugh, letter to, from Robert
Chambers, 135, 267 ; letters to R.
Chambers from, 267; his contribu-
tions to Chambers's Jourtial, 268.
Miller, Robert, bookseller, 145.
Milne-Home, Mr David, on the parallel
roads of Glenroy, 282.
Mirror, the, a cheap periodical, 229.
Miscellany of Useful and Entertain-
i>ig Tracts, Chambers's, 269.
Mitford, Miss, visit to, by W. Cham-
bers, 313.
Mudie, George, editor of the Cornu-
co/>ia, 231.
Murchison, Sir Roderick L, 297.
Murray, Mrs Alexander, 204.
Napier of Magdala, Lord, 352.
Nicholson, Sir Charles, 307.
Noble, Sandy, 61.
Norway, 286, 287.
Patriot, the, a weekly periodical, 136.
Peebles, birthplace of William and
Robert Chambers, 5 ; described by
Robert Chambers, 6-13 ; Cockbum
on, 6 ; new town of, 14 ; schools
characterised, 48 ; how Sunday
was spent there, 63, 64 ; militia
stationed at, 60 ; arrival of French
prisoners at, 67 ; theatre extem-
porised by French prisoners, 70 ;
founding of Chambers's Institution
at, 321 ; burial of W. Chambers at,
372-374. 339-
Penny Magazine, publication of, 234.
Pharos, trips in the, 354, 355.
Picture of Scotland, by R. Chambers,
211, 308, 386.
Pilrig Avenue, 142.
Poetical Retnaiifs of Robert Cliam-
bers, 391.
INDEX.
401
Pollock, Sir George, 297.
Ponsonby, Sir Henry, 370.
Popular Rhymes 0/ Scotland, by R.
Chambers, 210, 386.
Porteous Mob, the, 98.
rriniing Machine, the, a periodical.
Prison rhyme, a, gg.
Provence, Roman remains of, 314.
Quarterly Rcvieiv on R. Chambers's
History 0/ tlu Rebellion, 214.
Queen, the, offers a baronetcy to W.
Chambers, 365 ; her message after
his death, 370.
Queensberry, the Duchess of, 204.
Ramsay, Dean, 217, 381.
Rawlinson, Sir Henry, 297.
Rebellions in Scotland, histories of, by
R. Chambers, 213, 386.
Rcikiana, by R. Chambers, 203, 209,
387.
Rcid, William, bookseller, Leith, 183.
Riddell, Henry Scott, poet, 156.
Riddell, James, merchant, 299.
Ritchie, David, the original of the
Black Divar/, 157; his cottage
visited by Sir Adam Ferguson and
W. Chambers, 317.
Rob Roy, a likeness of, 193.
Rogers, H. D., 307.
Royston, near Edinburgh, 127.
Ruthvcn, printer, Edinburgh, 160.
Rye House Plot, loi.
Salt, contraband trade in, 120.
School of Arts, Edinburgh, no, 230.
Scotland, History o/, by R. Chambers,
295-
Scott, a metrical history of the clan
oi". S3-
Scott, Rev. Archibald, D.D., 374-376.
Scott, Sir Walter, describes the ' bore-
slone' in Marmion, 127 ; affords R.
Chambers an interview, 1S4, ios ; a
second interview, iS3 ; contributions
to the Traditions and Rhymes 0/
Scotland, 207 ; death and funcr.il of,
241 ; memoir of, by R. Chanibers,
242 ; visit of, to Hallyards, in
Peeblesshire, 316; references to,
354, 355-
Scott, Thomas, 186, 194.
Scottish Ballads and Songs, by R.
Chambers, 213, 386.
Scottish Jests aiul Anecdates, col-
lection of, by R. Chambers, 217, 387.
Select Writings of R. Chambers, 276 ;
' Delta's ' opinion of, 277.
Sharpe, Charles Kirkpatrick, 201.
Shortrede, John, of Jedburgh, 276.
Sibbald, Captain, of the Old Tolbooth,
100,
Siddons, Mrs, at the old Edinburgh
Theatre Royal, 303, 304.
Sime, Alexander, shipbuilder, 182.
Skerryvore Lighthouse, 354-355.
Sloane's grammar-school, Peebles, 42,
389-
Smith, Rev. Sydney, interview of W.
Chambers with, 311.
Smollett, Life of, by R. Chambers, 325.
Smollett, Sir James, grandfather of
the novelist, 325.
Snowing-up of the Peebles roads, 21.
Social Science Tracts, by W. Cham-
bers, 322.
Society for the DifTusioa of Useful
Knowledge, founding of the, 230.
Soiree, the first in W. & R. Chambers's,
271.
Something of Haly, by W. Chambers,
322.
Spiritualism, views of R. Chambers
on, 326.
St Giles' Cathedral, Edinburgh, res-
toration of, 357-364 ; re-opening of,
366-371 ; funeral service for W.
Chambers in, 371-372.
Stall-keeping, the advantages of, 151.
Stationarii, the original, 151.
Sterne, value of, as a novelist, 56.
Steuart, Sir Henry, of Allanton, Ji6.
Stobic, excise officer, and ISurns, 120.
Story pf a Long and Busy Li/e, by
W. Chambers, 348.
Superstitions, some old, ai.
Susanna, Countess of E^lintnune, io\.
402
MEMOIR.
Tarn Fleck of Peebles, 25.
Tegg, Mr Thomas, cheap editions of
standard works by, 144.
Telford, Thomas, engineer, rhymes
by, 228.
Theatre Royal, Edinburgh, Old, 303.
Things as tliey are in America, by
W. Chambers, 303.
Thomson, George, a contemporary of
Burns, 253, 271.
Threiplands of Fingask, 324 ; history
of, 391.
Tod-hunter Will of Peebles, 15.
Tolbooth, the Old, 97-106 ; Captain
Sibbald of, 100 ; Davie, a voluntary
prisoner in, 102.
Tour in Holland and the Rhine
Countries, by W. Chambers, 265.
Town Guard of Edinburgh, gg.
Tracings in Iceland and the Faroe
Islands, by R. Chambers, 295.
Tracings in the North 0/ Etcrope, by
R. Chambers, 2S6.
Traditions of Edinburgh, the writing
of, by R. Chambers, 197 ; great
success of, 198-201 ; Scott's contri-
butions to, 207, 386, 393.
Trondhiem, climate of, 286.
Trotter, John, of Mortonhall, 299.
Tuttictt, Rev. Mr, funeral sermon on
R. Chambers, 333.
Tyndall, Professor, 307.
Verulam House, the home of R
Chambers in London, 306.
Walker, W. S., of Bowland, 284.
Walks in Edinburgh, by R. Cham
bers, 210, 386.
Wardlaw, Lady, of Pitreavie, 303.
Watts, Mr, of the British Museum,
307-
Weavers, large wages earned by, 9.
Weir, Major, story of, 128.
Wilson, Professor, commends the
Traditions in the Nodes, 209.
Wilson, William, poet, 195 ; letter
from R. Chambers to, 198 ; letter
from, to R. Chambers, 265.
Window Willie, 15.
IVintering in Mentone, by W.
Chambers, 322, 356.
Witchcraft, a limited belief in, 20.
Youth's Companio7i and Counsellor,
by W. Chambers, 322.
I Zumpt, Professor, 314.
Edinburgh :
Printed by W. & R. Chambers.
THE LIBRA .vY
UNIVERSITY Cv C-vi^lrOiiML^
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WORKS BY W. CHAMBERS, LL.D.
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Roxburghe binding Price 3J'. 6</.
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