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PREFACE
The following “Tales and Sketches” were written at an early
period of the author’s career, during the first years of his married life,
before he had attempted to carry any part of the world on his shoulders in
the shape of a public newspaper, and found it by no means a comfortable
burden. Yet possibly the period earlier still, when he produced his “Scenes
and Legends,” had been more favorable for a kind of writing which required
in any measure the exercise of the imagination. The change to him was very
great, from a life of constant employment in the open air, amid the sights
and sounds of nature, to “the teasing monotony of one which tasked his
intellectual powers without exercising them.” Hence, partly, it may be
imagined, the intensity of his sympathy with the poet Ferguson. The greater
number of these Tales were composed literally over the midnight lamp, after
returning late in the evening from a long day’s work over the ledger and the
balance-sheet. Tired though he was, his mind could not stagnate — he must
write. I do not mention these circumstances at all by way of apology. It has
struck me, in* deed, that the Tales are nearly all of a pensive or tragical
cast, and that in congenial circumstances they might have had a more joyous
and elastic tone, in keeping with a healthier condition of the nervous
system. Yet their defects must undoubtedly belong to the mind of their
author. I am far from being under the delusion that he was, or was ever
destined to be, a Walter Scott or Charles Dickens. 'The faculties of plot
and drama, which find their scope in the story and the novel, were among the
weakest, instead of the strongest, of his powers. Yet I am deceived if the
lovers and students of Hugh Miller’s Works will not find in the “Tales and
Sketches” some matter of special interest. In the first three there are, I
think, glimpses into his own inner life, such as he, with most men of
reserved and dignified character, would choose rather to personify in
another than to make a parade of in their own person, when coming forward
avowedly to write of themselves. And, then, if he could have held a
conversation with Robert Burns, so that all the world might hear, I think
there are few who would not have listened with some curiosity. In his
“Recollections of Burns” we have his own side of such conversation ; for it
seems evident that it is himself that he has set a travelling and a talking
in the person of Mr. Lindsay.
But of Burns’s share in the dialogue the reader is the best
judge. Some may hold that he is loo like Hugh Miller himself, — too
philosophic in idea, and too pure in sentiment. In regard to this, we can
only remind such that Burns’s prose was not like his poetry, nor his ideal
like his actual life.
Unquestionably my husband had a very strong sympathy with
many points in the character of Burns. Ilis thorough integrity ; his noble
independence, which disdained to place his honest opinions at the mercy of
any man or set of men ; his refusal to barter his avowal of the worth and
dignity of man for the smiles and patronage of the great, even after he had
tasted the sweets of their society, which is a very different matter from
such avowal before that time, if any one will fairly think of it, — all
this, with the acknowledged sovereignty of the greater genius, made an
irresistible bond of brotherhood between Miller and Burns. But to the
grosser traits of the poet’s character my husband’s eyes were perfectly open
; and grieved indeed should I be if it could for a moment be supposed that
he lent the weight of his own purer moral character to the failings, and
worse than failings, of the other. Over these he mourned, he grieved. I
believe he would at any time have given the life of his body for the life of
his brother’s soul. Above all, he deplored that the all-prevailing power of
Christian love was never brought to bear on the heart of this greatest of
Scotland’s sons. If Thomas Chalmers had been in the place of Russell, who
knows what might have been? But, doubtless, God in his providence had wise
purposes to serve. It is offen by such instruments that he scourges and
purifies his church. For let us not forget, that scenes such as are depicted
in the “Holy Fair,” however painful to our better feelings.were strictly and
literally true. This I have myself heard from an eye-witness, who could not
have been swayed by any leanings towards the anti-puritan side; and,
doubtless, many others are aware of testimony on the same side of equal
weight.
We may hope that the time is passing away when the more
exceptionable parts of Burns’s character and writings are capable of working
mischief, at least among the higher and middle classes. It is cause of
thankfulness that in regard to such, and with him as with others, there is a
sort of purifying process goes on, which leaves the higher and finer
elements of genius to float buoyantly, and fulfil their own destiny in the
universal plan, while the grosser are left to sink like lead in the mighty
waters. Thus it is in those portions of society already refined and
elevated. But there is yet a portion of the lower strata where midnight
orgies continue to prevail, and where every idea of pleasure is connected
with libertinism and the bottle; and there the worst productions of Burns
are no doubt still rife, and' working as a deadly poison. Even to a superior
class of working-men, who are halting between two opinions, there is danger
from the very mixture of good and evil in the character and writings of the
poet. They cannot forget that he who wrote
“The cock may craw, the day may daw,
Yet still we’ll taste the barley brce,”
“A man’s a man for a’ that”; and they determine, or are in
danger of determining, to follow the object of their worship with no halting
step. Doubtless political creed and the accidents of birth still color the
individual estimate of Burns and his writings. It is but of late that we
have seen society torn, on occasion of the centenary of the poet, by
conflicting opinion as to the propriety of observing it; and many would fain
have it supposed that the religious and anti-religious world were ranged on
opposite sides. But it was not so. There were thoroughly good and religious
men, self-made, who could not forget that Burns had been the champion of
their order, and had helped to win for them respect by the power of his
genius; while there were others — religious men of old family — who could
remember nothing but his faults. I remember spending one or two evenings
about that time in the society of a well-born, earnestly religious, and
highly estimable gentleman, who reprobated Burns, and scoffed at the idea
that a man could be a man for a’ that. He might belong to a limited class;
for well I know that among peers there are as ardent admirers of Burns as
among peasants. All I would say is, that even religious feelings may take
edge and bitterness from other causes. But to the other class— those who
from loyalty and gratitude are apt to follow Burns too far — well I know
that my husband would have said, “ Receive all genius as the gift of God,
but never let it be to you as God. It ought never to supersede the exercise
of your own moral sense, nor can it ever take the place of the only
infallible guide, the Word of God.”
But I beg the reader’s pardon for digressing thus, when I
ought to be pursuing the proper business of a preface, which is, to state
any explanatory circumstances that may be necessary in connection with the
work in hand.
The “Recollections of Ferguson” are exquisitely painful — so
much so that I would fain have begun with something brighter; but these two
contributions being the most important, and likewise the first in order of a
series, they seemed to fall into the beginning as their natural place. I
have gone over the Life of Ferguson, which the reader may do for himself, to
see whether there is any exaggeration in the “Recollections.” I find them
all perfectly faithful to the facts. The neglected bard, the stone cell, the
straw pallet, the stone paid for by a brother bard out of his own straitened
means are not flattering to the “Embro’ Gentry”; but amid a great deal of
flattery, a little truth is worth remembering. On the other hand it rejoices
one to think that Ferguson’s death-bed, on the heavenward side, was not
dark. The returning reason, the comforts of the Word of Life, are glimpses
of God’s providence and grace that show gloriously amid the otherwise outer
darkness of those depths.
The sort of literature of superstition revived or retained in
“The Lykewake,” there are a great many good people who think the world would
be better without.
It chanced to me some three years ago, when residing in a
seabathing village, and silting one day on a green turf-bank overlooking the
sea, to hear a conversation in which this point was brought very prominently
forward. A party consisting of a number of young people, accompanied by
their papa, a young French lady, who was either governess or friend, and a
gentleman in the garb of a elergyman, either friend or tutor, seated
themselves very near me; and it was proposed by the elder gentleman that a
series of stories should be told for the amusement and edification of the
young people. A set of stories and anecdotes were accordingly begun, and
very pleasingly told, chiefly by the clergyman, friend or tutor. Among
others was a fairy tale entitled “Green Sleeves,” to which the name of Hugh
Miller was appended, and which evoked great applause from the younger
members of the party, but regarding which the verdict of papa, very
emphatically delivered, was, “I approve of farics neither in green sleeves
nor white sleeves. However,”—after a pause, during which he seemed to be
revolving in his mind any possible use for the like absurdities, — “they may
serve to show us the blessings of the more enlightened times in whieh we
live, when schools for the young, and sciences for all ages, have banished
such things from the world.” So, with this utilitarian view of the subject
let us rest satisfied, unless we are of those who, feeling that the human
mind is a harp of many strings, believe that it is none the worse for having
the music of even its minor chords awakened at times by a skilful hand.
I am unable to say whether “Bill Whyte” be a real story, ever
narrated by a bona fide tinker of the name, or no. I am rather inclined to
think that it is not, because I recognize in it several incidents drawn from
“Uncle Sandy’s” Experiences in Egypt, such as the hovering of the flight of
birds, seared and terrified, over the smoke and noise of battle, the
encampment in the midst of a host of Turks’ bones, etc.
With the “Young Surgeon” I was myself acquainted. It is a
sketch strictly true.
“The Story of the Scotch Merchant of the Eighteenth Century,”
which also is a true story, was written originally at the request of a near
relative of Mr. Forsyth, for private circulation among a few friends, and is
now for the first time given to the public by the kind consent of the
surviving relatives.
CONTENTS
I.
RECOLLECTIONS OF FERGUSON
Chapter I. The Fellow-Student
Chapter II. The Convivial Party
Chapter III. Life's Shadowy Morning
Chapter IV. A Surprise and Joyful News
Chapter V. An Interior View
Chapter VI. Gathering Clouds
Chapter VII. The Retreat
Chapter VIII. The Final Scene
II.
RECOLLECTIONS OF BURNS
Chapter I. The Congenial Stranger
Chapter II. The Trio — A Scottish Scene
Chapter III. Burns and Mary Campbell
Chapter IV. The Home and the Father of Burns
Chapter V. Burns and the Church
Chapter VI. An Evening at Mossgiel
Chapter VII. The Poet appears
Chapter VIII. The Last Interview
III. .
THE SALMON-FISHER OF UDOLL
Chapter I. The Fisherman, William Stewart, Lillias
Chapter II. The Sequel
IV.
THE WIDOW OF DUNSKAITH
Chapter I. The Cavern Scene
Chapter II. Helen’s Vision
V.
THE LYKEWAKE
Chapter I. Introduction
Chapter II. The Story of Elspat M'Culloch
Chapter III. Story of Donald Gair
Chapter IV. The Doomed Rider
Chapter V. Story of Fairborn’s Ghost
Chapter VI. The Land Factor
Chapter VII. The Mealmonoer
VI.
BILL WHYTE
Chapter I. A Gipsy Story
Chapter II. A Narrow Escape
VII.
THE YOUNG SURGEON
Or, The Power of Religion
VIII.
GEORGE ROSS, THE SCOTCH AGENT
Or, The Fortunes of a Reformer
IX.
M'CULLOCH THE MECHANICIAN
Or, The Story of a Farmer's Boy
X.
THE SCOTCH MERCHANT OF THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY
Chapter I. Early Advantages
Chapter II. Enterprise and Thrift
Chapter III. Manners of the Times
Chapter IV. State of Society
Chapter V. The Kelp-burners
Chapter VI. Shipping and Sailors
Chapter VII. Personal Traits
Chapter VIII. Schemes of Improvement
Chapter IX. Sports and Jokes
Chapter X. Hospitality
Chapter XI. Changes and Improvements
Chapter XII. The Closing Scenes |
