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How much is changed of what I
see,
How much more changed am I;
And yet how much is left—to me
How is the distant nigh!
The walks are overgrown and wild,
The pavement flags are green,
But I am once again a child,
I am what I have been.
The sounds that round about me rise
Are what none other hears,
I see what meets no other eyes,
Though mine are dim with tears.
Henry Taylor.
This last and uncompleted
decade of Brewster’s life began -with an uprooting from the old ground,
which was no easy task for one of his great age. The merely physical
discomforts were much increased by an untoward event, with which all who
understand the mysteries of a philosopher’s sanctum will intensely
sympathise. Upon finally leaving St. Andrews,- he packed his carriage not
only with his valuable plate, but with invaluable papers, and the treasured
odds and ends of his experiment-room. Through the carelessness of officials,
it was allowed to drop into the Firth of Forth, in the process of being
transferred from the landing to the steamer. Although he received
compensation for the damaged plate, yet the injury to his papers, of which
some were destroyed and others much defaced, nothing could compensate. It is
seldom that such a complete uprooting so late in life is attended with such
a thorough taking root in the new soil,—new, however, it could scarcely be
called, and he soon felt the delight growing and increasing of the return,
under altered circumstances, to his old University,—the reviving of old
friendships, —and the forming of new. The difficulty of finding a house
which would be suitable for the double purpose of living and experimenting
in, led to a measure which greatly increased the happiness and comfort of
his remaining years. He made arrangements to return again to his old home on
the banks of the Tweed, which was within two hours by railway of the
University. Every winter he moved into Edinburgh, taking a house in the town
or neighbourhood for three or four months, but during the rest of the
session has attended the meetings of the Senatus, or any other connected
with his academical duties, going out and in from Melrose generally the same
day, with a punctuality and alacrity which was indeed marvellous in a man of
his age, a habit which was continued till within a month or two of his
death.
After leaving St. Andrews in February, he and Lady Brewster occupied
Strathavon Lodge, a pretty marine residence at Trinity, three miles from
Edinburgh, kindly lent to them by Sir James Simpson, and they moved to
Allerly in September of the same year.
In the end of October 1859, he, as Principal, presided at the first meeting
of the General Council of the University of Edinburgh, and had the
gratification of declaring his old College friend, Lord Brougham, duly
elected as Chancellor, who afterwards appointed Brewster Vice-Chancellor. At
Lord Brougham’s installation, in the following spring, the Principal was
again in the chair. It was an interesting sight to see the two Edinburgh
students, as octogenarians, thus standing together on the platform
intimately associated in the highest honours of their alma mater. Never had
my father’s pale spiritual face and venerable form shown to more advantage
than on that occasion, aided, as feminine admirers did not fail to whisper,
by the flowing purple of his new robes of office. When in London in the
summer of this year, he made, I believe, his first acquaintance with another
of those “ circuits,” in which he became still more deeply interested—the
National Association of Social Science. Sir
David became one of the Council, and was afterwards chosen a Vice President.
In September of this year also the British Association met at Glasgow, which
he attended ; the following extracts refer to these two meetings :—
“Athenjeum, July 17, 1860.
“My dearest Jeanie,—Having only half-an-hour at my disposal, I sit down to
devote it to you. There is sitting here at present a great International
Congress, with deputies from every part of the world, grouped in six or
seven sections, and discussing the most important and interesting practical
subjects. Prince Albert opened it yesterday with a noble address, which was
most enthusiastically received. Lord Brougham presides over the Judicial
section, Lord Shaftesbury over the Sanitary one, Van de Weyer, the Belgian
ambassador, over another, and so on. I have to read a paper in the sanitary
section on my method of illuminating houses in dark and narrow streets. I
have been running through the different sections this forenoon, and have met
with many interesting foreigners and old acquaintances.”
“129 Bath Street, Glasgow, Sept. 27, 1860.
“I accompany Lord Brougham everywhere, sticking as closely to him as a
Vice-Chancellor does to the Chancellor, Sir James Campbell completing the
trio. His carriage with white horses is known to the Glasgow world, and
wherever it is seen crowds follow to see the great man. It was very
considerate in you to send me Professor Forbes’s letter. It was delivered to
me in the carriage with Lord Brougham, and after reading it I handed it to
his Lordship, who immediately promised to speak to the Lord Advocate, as
suggested in the letter.
“We were on our way to see the great war frigate, 600 feet long, and 6000
tons burthen, which is to carry 50 of the largest guns. It is built of iron,
and when we approached the yard the hammering of 1400 men upon iron rivets,
joining plates of iron of enormous thickness, was almost deafening. When we
entered the ship all the workmen left it, and stationed themselves in the
yard in one living mass, cheering Lord Brougham in the most enthusiastic
manner, while some hundred boys belonging to the establishment placed
themselves on a huge pile of wood, and added their shrill notes to the
graver music. The same enthusiasm was shown when we left the ship,—Mr.
Napier, the great and wealthy shipbuilder, and his two sons, having
accompanied us through the works. . . .
“Two very interesting papers were read to-day, one on the repression of
crime, by Mr. Arthur Kinnaird, and the other on education, by Dr. Tulloch,
which was excellent and highly appreciated.”
“Glasgow, Sept. 28, 1860.
“... At eight o’clock we adjourned to the City Hall, where Lord Brougham had
to address 4000 or 5000 of the working classes, and where resolutions for
their approval were to be proposed.
“Such a magnificent sight I never saw, of fine-looking and well-dressed men.
The resolutions were in every case seconded by working men, with a power and
even eloquence which surprised the gentlemen on the platform. There were
three interesting foreigners present, M. Garnier Pages, who was at the head
of the Revolutionary Government of France in 1848, M. Desmarets, a
celebrated French advocate, and Louis Blanc, who was also one of the
Ministers of 1848. The two first made eloquent speeches, Desmarets in
English, and Pages in French, every sentence of which was translated by Mr.
Arthur Kinnaird. Louis Blanc was not asked to speak, lest he should be
indiscreet towards Napoleon. In the other speeches every allusion to the
despotism of the Imperial Government was loudly cheered.”
In 1861 an event happened which brought a new sunshine into the “old man’s
home.” On the 27th January a little daughter, Constance Marion, was born, on
whom he doted with the tenderest affection. Strangely touching it was to see
the flaxen hair and wide brow of the little one resting on the silver locks
of the venerable head, and as years passed on it was not difficult to
discover the promises of an inherited talent, which it was sad to know it
was impossible could be watched over and fostered by her distinguished
father. In very early years, however, he gave her lessons in astronomy, in
drawing, and in arithmetic,—she was the constant companion of his drives,
and recipient of that admiration for the beauties of nature which still in
him seemed ever on the increase. This new possession was not, however, one
of unmixed joy; some of the unphilosophic tendencies of the philosopher,
which we have noticed, came into full operation in everything connected with
his little darling. His excessive timidity about illness, infection, and
accident, caused him many an anxious hour, and the almost forgotten
distresses of colds and “great-coats,” alluded to by Miss Edgeworth in one
of her lively letters, came back with a forcible reassertion, which would
have been amusing had it not mingled a real suffering with the joy brought
by the little sunbeam.
A University deputation took him to London in March, and the British
Association to Manchester in September. He wrote :—
“Athenaeum, March 3, 1861.
“My dearest Jeanie,— . . . At an interview with Mr. Disraeli yesterday, I
was the last of about twenty that came into the room, and having been
announced by name, Disraeli walked half-way up his long drawing-room, shook
hands with me, and said that it was a long time since he had the pleasure of
meeting with me. I had utterly forgotten having ever met him, but I begin to
remember that Mr. Lockhart brought him one day to Allerly when he was a very
young man, and on a visit to him at Chiefswood.”
“The Polygon, Manchester, e Sept. 4, 1861.
“I arrived here last night, and found that my home was to be at Mr.
Hilton’s, next door to Mr. Fairbaim’s, where Sir R. Murchison is also to
sleep and breakfast. . . . The party at Mr. Fairbairn’s is charming, the
Harcourts, Rornney Robinsons, Sabines, and Batemans. . . . Dear little
Connie and her dear mother are never out of my mind, and in my mind’s eye I
see her clinching the side of her bath with that charming intelligent smile,
which 1 see as distinctly as if I were beside her.
“Sept. 8.—We had a very interesting evening meeting yesterday after dining
with the Fairbairns. Professor Grove gave half-an-hour’s lecture on the
telegraph, nearly seventy forms of which were displayed at the meeting.
Arrangements were made to receive messages and return answers from Balmoral,
Petersburgh, and Odessa, the telegraph wires being brought into the hall
where we were. The Prince asked if the meeting was successful, to which we
returned the number of members here. We learned from St. Petersburgh, in
answer to inquiries about the weather, that the night was fine and the
thermometer at 17° Reaumur (70° Fahr.), and we learned from Odessa, round by
St. Petersburgh, that the night was cold and windy.”
In 1860 Sir David Brewster received an honour which he considered one of the
most gratifying which he had ever received. He was made an M.D. of the
University of Berlin, and the intimation was couched in the following terms
:—
“Die medicinische Facultat hiesiger Universitat hat bei Veranlas-sung des 50
jahrigen Griindungsfestes der Universitat Ihnen der grossen Yerdienste um
die Hiilfswissenschaften der Medicin halber, welche Sie Sich mit
allgemeinster Anerkennung erworben haben, den Grad eines Ehren-doctors der
Medicin bei der hiesiger Universitat zuerkannt, und diess am I6nten in
feierlicher Sitzung im Beisen der hohen Staatsbehorden offentlich erklart.”
One practical application of these “auxiliary sciences” was the beneficial
suggestions as to the cause and cure of cataract, which were the result of
Brewster’s optical investigations. He mentions, in a paper “On the Cause and
Cure of Cataract,” that, about the year 1825, he himself had had an
incipient threatening of that complaint, which he first became aware of when
playing at chess with Sir James Hall, who was “a very slow player.” In this
situation the active mind occupied itself with experimenting upon the flame
of a candle, when he became aware of a luminous and partially coloured halo
around the flame, and also, as subsequently seen, around the moon and other
centres of radiance. This affection lasted for about eight months, causing
him, like the other threatenings of his eyesight, the greatest anxiety. His
previous examination of the eyes of animals, especially those of the sheep,
the cow, and the horse after death, made him discover the cause of this
unpleasant phenomenon, which was a separation of the laminae of the
crystalline lens and a partial drying up of the albuminous fluid. His
attention was thenceforward much directed to the study of this subject,
which he discussed with many medical men, and he stated at the meetings of
the British Association of 1836-37, his conviction of the effectual cure of
incipient cataract in two ways, which have since, I believe, been frequently
acted upon.
“1st, By discharging a portion of the aqueous humour, in the hope that the
fresh secretion, by which the loss is repaired, may contain less albumen,
and counteract the desiccation of the lens. 2d, By injecting distilled water
into the aqueous chamber to supply the quantity of humour discharged from
it.” The first of these methods was suggested to him by the examination of
that “case of conical cornea,” and its surgical treatment, which he briefly
recorded in Kearsley’s Ledger-Book for 1809—nothing that he ever saw or
“examined” being lost on his retentive mind. Another benefit to the Art of
Healing which accrued from his studies on Light was his practical
application of it to sanitary requirements. The following statements of his
views as to the lighting of the poor man’s home are interesting :—
“In treating of the influence of light as a sanitary agent, we enter upon a
subject almost entirely new; but admitting the existence of the influence
itself, as partially established by analogy and observation, and asserting
the vast importance of the subject in its social aspects, we venture to say
that science furnishes us with principles and methods by which the light of
day may be thrown into apartments which a sunbeam has never reached, and
where the poisons and the malaria of darkness have been undermining sound
constitutions, and carrying thousands prematurely to the grave. . . . Could
we investigate the history of dungeon life, of those noble martyrs whom
ecclesiastical or political tyranny have immured in darkness, or of those
felons whom law and justice have driven from society, we should find many
examples of the terrible effects which have been engendered by the exclusion
of those influences which are necessary for the nutrition and development of
the lower animals. ... If light develops in certain races the perfect type
of the adult who has grown under its influence, we can hardly avoid the
conclusion drawn by Dr. Edwards, ‘that the want of sufficient light must
constitute one of the external causes which produce those deviations in form
which are observed in children affected with scrofula/—an opinion supported
by the fact that this disease is most prevalent in poor children living in
confined and dark streets. . . . The problem which science pretends to solve
is to throw into the dark apartments as much light as possible,—all the
light, indeed, which is visible from the window, excepting that which is
necessarily lost in the process.
“If in a very narrow street or lane, we look out of a window with the eye in
the same plane as the outer face of the wall in which the window is placed,
we shall see the whole of the sky by which the apartment can be illuminated.
If we now withdraw the eye inwards, we shall gradually lose sight of the sky
till it wholly disappears, which may take place when the eye is only six or
eight inches from its first position. In such a case the apartment is
illuminated only by the light reflected from the opposite wall, or the sides
of the stones which form the window; because, if the glass of the window is
six or eight inches within the wall, as it generally is, not a ray of light
can fall upon it.
“If we now remove our window, and substitute another in which all the panes
of glass are roughly ground on the outside, and flush with the outer wall,
the light from the whole of the visible sky, and from the remotest parts of
the opposite wall, will be introduced into the apartment, reflected from the
innumerable faces or facets which the rough grinding of the glass has
produced. The whole window will appear as if the sky were beyond it, and
from every point of this luminous surface light will radiate into all parts
of the room. ... In aid of this method of distributing light, the opposite
sides of the street or lane should be kept white-washed with lime, and for
the same reason the ceilings and walls of the apartment should be as white
as possible, and all the furniture of the lightest colours. Having seen such
effects produced by imperfect means, we feel as if we had introduced our
poor workman or needle-woman from a dungeon into a summer-house, where the
aged can read their Bible,—where the inmates can see each other, and carry
on their work in facility and comfort. By pushing out the window we have
increased by a few cubic feet the quantity of air to be breathed, and we
have enabled the housewife to look into dark corners where there had
hitherto nestled all the elements of corruption. To these inmates the winter
twilight has been shortened, the sun has risen sooner and set later, and the
midnight lamp is no longer lighted when all nature is smiling with the
blessed influences of day.
“I cannot conclude these observations without referring to the use which may
be made of them in our own city, notorious for the number of its dark and
narrow lanes, and for the thousands of unlighted and unventilated dwellings
which they contain. The devoted men who venture daily into these abodes of
malaria and uncleanness, can alone describe to us the Cimmerian darkness and
the tainted atmosphere in which their pallid occupants live, and move, and
have their being. They alone can paint the harrowing scenes which disease
and destitution present to them in these joyless homes. To what extent evils
like these can be remedied, it is a sacred duty to inquire. To what extent
they will be remedied by the large and expensive sanitary measures now
contemplated, we do not venture to predict; but it is very obvious, that the
upper and lower ends of the offensive lanes, which are to be intersected by
the new streets, can derive little benefit from them in respect of
ventilation, and none whatever in giving additional light to the houses
which remain. The only effectual mode of ventilating and lighting a dark and
crowded apartment, is to strike out a large opening in the wall for the
fresh admission of air, and to construct the window which is to close it, so
as to give the most copious entrance to the light of the sky. A process so
cheap, so easily executed, and so obviously effectual, ought to be the very
first step in any measure of sanitary reform; and it is clearly one which,
if not effected by the philanthropy of the public, ought to be enjoined by
Act of Parliament upon the house proprietors individually, or upon the
citizens at large.” ^
En route from Manchester, he paid a visit which gave him great interest, and
which revived many recollections of other days, when he had been intimately
acquainted with Sir John Trevelyan of Wallington, and his accomplished and
scientific family, while his son, Sir Walter Trevelyan, had been a friend
and correspondent for many years. The pleasure which a visit to Wallington
always gave him was on this occasion increased by the presence of some of
the members off the old family circle, and by finding in the third
generation fresh and intelligent scientific tastes.
My father’s return to Allerly was a very happy event for him, in reviving
his old love for that pretty spot, and giving him healthful occupation in
the open air; he was constantly out directing the improvements of which the
place, now overgrown with the trees which he himself had planted, stood much
in need, and he never tired of the beautiful views which he thus opened up
of the valley he loved so well. He also earnestly desired to promote the
welfare of his neighbours of the working classes, with whom he never sought
popularity, though he was ever a favourite. He presided on at least one
occasion at a little evening gathering in the picturesque village of
Gattonside, for the benefit of its school, although such an office was not
congenial to his tastes and habits. The vicinity of Allerly to his
birthplace gave it a special charm to him, and a day’s expedition to
Jedburgh, and from thence up the Jed past the Allerly well and beyond
Inchbonny, became one of his greatest pleasures, which he loved to share
with his chosen friends and near relatives. Professor Fraser kindly sends me
the following reminiscences :—
“20 Chester Street, Edinburgh, June 12, 1869.
“Dear Mrs. Gordon,—I fear that any incidents which I can now recall of the
charming day my wife and I, with our eldest boy, spent with Sir David and
Lady Brewster at Jedburgh, in June 1861, are almost too slight to be of
service to you. Yet I recollect the history of those bright summer hours as
containing some of the most pleasing experience in my life. Your father met
us at Melrose, when we arrived there by the early train from Edinburgh, and
after taking us over the Abbey we drove to Allerly to breakfast. I remember
some interesting talk with him as we sauntered in the garden after
breakfast,—about Locke, and Newton, and Berkeley. There was a remarkable
portrait of Berkeley at Allerly, and he gave me some account of the way it
came into his possession. We also spoke about some of the writings and
history of my revered friend Mr. Isaac Taylor, whom I was then on my way to
visit at his beautiful cottage at Stanford Rivers. In the forenoon we all
drove to Jedburgh, by St. Boswells and Ancrum Moor, when, with eager
interest, he recalled the local history and literary associations of the
places we passed. Then, perambulating Jedburgh, we explored the Abbey and
the Castle. He took us to see the house in which he was born. I recollect
that he pointed to a pane in an upper window of the house, optical phenomena
in which, observed in boyhood, had, he said, set agoing the train of
researches with which his name is now associated. Later in the day we drove
up the Jed to a spot in a wood two or three miles above the town, where,
after some rambles, we dined. All this is vivid in my recollection, as well
as the juvenile enthusiasm with which he threw himself into the life of that
day, and also brought us to live with him in the past of his own early
years. I have never seen the sanguine vivacity of youth better blended with
the beautiful wisdom and matured experience of age. The incidents of his
early life which he recalled were perhaps impressive from their number and
minuteness, rather than of a kind to admit of selection here. The power of
local association and interest was at any rate strongly marked. '
“In August of the following year we had, I remember, a delightful excursion
with your father to Dry burgh and the grave of Scott. My family were, as
usual, passing the autumn in Yarrow. My wife and I, with Lord Amberley, who
was then visiting us there, went to enjoy a day at Allerly. In the afternoon
we all drove to Dryburgh. Much of the conversation was naturally about Sir
Walter. I remember your father told us that he was in. the habit of dining
twice a week at Abbotsford, when its gay scenes and brilliant society were
at their best,—Allerly being at that time his home. He gave us some
interesting anecdotes of Scott and Lockhart. I know that we all returned to
Yarrow, towards midnight, charmed by the intercourse and scenes of the day.
“It was in the following month, I think, that he and Lady Brewster spent a
day with us at Yarrow. In the afternoon we took them to Tibbie Shiels’,
where we had tea, and where Sir David, in ‘cordially greeting our venerable
hostess, said that his last visit to the Cottage was in the autumn of 1818,
forty-five years before, in company with the late Lord Napier. She
distinctly remembered the visit, and ’ reminded him of some incidental
circumstances connected with it. We had talk about Christopher North, the
Ettrick Shepherd, Scott,; and Wordsworth, who have made classical the
little; Cottage, and lone St. Mary’s Lake, with green and silent Yarrow. I
remember too that your father happened that day to be much interested in a
remarkable trial for murder, in Sandyford Place, Glasgow, of which the
newspapers were full. As I was not less interested, we had a long discussion
about the bearing of some of the evidence, in which I was much struck by his
logical ingenuity. . . .
“When in February last year I saw his body laid beside the old Abbey, and
beneath the shadow of the Eildon hills, in the picturesque valley where his
early manhood and old age were spent, I felt the separation as a personal
sorrow, and mourned not less, that I should see his face and be cheered by
his cordial friendship no more, than for the loss to the University of so
illustrious a representative, and to Christian faith and philanthropy of one
so humble and true. . . .— I am, dear Mrs. Gordon, sincerely yours, A. C.
Fraser.”
Daily drives in an open carriage were most beneficial to my father’s health,
and to be his companion in these Roxburghshire excursions was indeed a
privilege of no ordinary interest. The vivid freshness of his memory and his
love of the legendary history of the vale of the Tweed, which has just been
mentioned, was displayed in every drive, and not only excited by an extra
occasion. He used to tell with peculiar interest that “ Sorrowless Field”
was so named because in 1513 it was the only valley in Scotland where there
was “no sorrow” —its every inhabitant, young and old, matron, maid, and
infant, going forth to the death at Flodden. He delighted in pointing out
the short solitary grave on the narrow tongue of uncultivated land
stretching into the meadows where was fought the battle of Ancrum Moor in
1545, still called Lilliard’s Edge, in commemoration of “fair maiden
Lilliard,” who fought beside her lover against the English invaders, and
earned the dubious fame of being a feminine Withrington. The “Eildon Tree
Stone,” where tradition declares that “true Thomas” of Ercildoune met the
Queen of Faery Land,—the “Rhymer’s Glen,”—the Field of Flodden seen in the
blue distance,— the beauties of Bemersyde, with its ancient and well-known
prophetical rhyme,—the Cowdenkno’wes with its "bonnie, bonnie broom,”—the
beautiful scenery of the Yair,—the towers of Smailholm and Darnick,—Ashiestiel,
Chiefswood, and Abbotsford,—and the “Fairy Dean,” with its three ruined
“peels,”—are but a few of the localities which gave him the vivid pleasure
and interest which he never failed to reproduce in others. He read a paper
at the Royal Society of Edinburgh in 1865, upon small but very interesting
mineralogical formations found in the last-named beautiful valley, of which
he gave the following interesting description :—
“On the banks of the El wand Water, which runs into the Tweed about two
miles above Melrose, there is a picturesque glen called the Fairy Dean,
which has become a favourite place of resort, from its association with the
incidents in The Monastery by Sir Walter Scott.
Haig shall be Haig o’ Bemersyde.”
Thomas the Rhymer,
It has acquired an interest of a different kind from certain mineral
concretions which have received the name of Fairy Stones, from their being
found in that part of the rivulet which runs through the Fairy Dean.
“When the Waverley Novels were not acknowledged by their author, facts or
incidents to which they referred were always welcome subjects of
conversation at Abbotsford ; and on one occasion when I happened to mention
that singular stones were found in the Fairy Dean, Sir Walter Scott
expressed a desire to see them, and to know how they were formed. I
accordingly sent some young persons to search for them in the bed of the
rivulet, and I was fortunate in thus obtaining several specimens of great
variety, and singular shape, and showing, very clearly, the manner in which
they were formed.
“It did not then occur to me that a description of these stones would excite
any other than a local interest; but, some years ago, when in company with
our distinguished countryman Mr. Robert Brown, the Botanicorum facile
princeps of Humboldt, he asked me to accompany him to his museum, to see
some remarkable mineral productions which had been sent to him, and which he
had not seen before. These minerals were exactly the same as the Fairy
Stones from Roxburghshire, but none of them were so remarkable, either in
their shape or their mode of formation, as those which I now present to the
Society.
“It is obvious, from the inspection of the specimens on the table, that the
fairy stones are formed by the dropping of water containing the matter of
which they are composed. . . . According to a rough analysis, which Dr.
Dalzell has been so good as to make for me, the specific gravity of the
fairy stones is 2.65, and their odour, when breathed upon, argillaceous.
They effervesce with mineral acids, and contain the following ingredients
proportionally in the order in which they are written:—alumina, silica,
lime, magnesia, oxide of iron, and a trace of manganese. The black coating
on many of these stones, which is t'oo minute for analysis, and which may be
easily removed, is very remarkable. If it is not carbonaceous it must be an
aluminous deposit, when the particles of the aluminous solution have become
so small as to be unable to reflect light.”
In 1861 my father’s portrait was introduced into a large and popular
picture, under circumstances which he thought it necessary to take notice
of; and he accordingly sent the following letter to the artist;—
“Allerly, Melrose, June 27, 1861.
“Sir,—I have only this moment seen, in the Times of Monday, an advertisement
of your picture entitled the Intellect and Valour of England, in which I am
represented as announcing the discovery of the Stereoscope. I think it right
to state to you that I am not the discoverer of the Stereoscope. I am only
the inventor of the Lenticular Stereoscope now in universal use.—I am, Sir,
yours most truly, “ David Brewster.
“To Thomas Jones Barker, Esq.”
A copy of this letter my father carried about with him constantly in a small
brown purse, from whence he took it to show his daughter-in-law, Mrs.
Macpherson, though without mentioning his reason for thus carefully,
preserving it. The history of the Stereoscope is curious, and was given to
the public in a. popular treatise on the subject, which he published in
1856. The word itself is derived from two Greek words, crrepfos, solid,
aKoire'iv, to see; and the instrument “represents in apparent relief and
solidity all natural objects, and all groups or combinations of objects, by
uniting into one image two plane representations of these objects or groups
as seen by each eye separately.” Binocular vision, or the fact that “ the
pictures of bodies seen by both eyes are formed by the union of two
dissimilar pictures formed by each,” is no modern discovery. Euclid the
mathematician, Galen the celebrated physician, Baptista Porta, a Neapolitan
writer upon optics in 1593, Leonardo da Vinci, Francis Aguilonius, a learned
Jesuit, who wrote in 1613, and several other more modern writers, have,
either by inference or direct statement, showed their knowledge of this
important optical law. Mr. Elliot, a teacher of mathematics in Edinburgh,
had turned his attention to the subject in 1823, and in' 1834 he projected
an instrument for uniting two dissimilar pictures. He did not, however,
actually construct it till 1839, when he exhibited it in Liverpool. This was
a very simple instrument, without mirrors or lenses, and the eyes alone
being the agents, it is called the ocular stereoscope ; two pictures taken
on the binocular principle were placed at the end of a box, and represented
a single landscape in relief. Mr. Elliot was unaware at the time, and for
years after he' exhibited his discovery, that Professor Wheatstone in 1838
exhibited a stereoscope of far higher construction,—the first Reflecting
Stereoscope,—an instrument fitted up with mirrors, by which the binocular
pictures were made to coincide. I well remember the arrival of one of these
somewhat cumbrous but very interesting instruments, and the delight with
which my father, watched and studied its wonderful cubes, steps, and
pyramids. Having found in the formation and size of this instrument various
defects which unfitted it for general use, the idea struck him of uniting
the dissimilar pictures by lenses; and it was speedily put into practice.
Mr. Loudon, an optician in Dundee, executed several “lenticular
stereoscopes,” while the application of photography to its beautiful .uses
was the next and easy step. This form of stereoscope was exhibited by its
inventor to the British Association in 1849, but was not then taken up in
England. In 1850 my father took to Paris one of the Dundee stereoscopes,
with photographic portraits, landscapes, sculptures, and buildings. M.
Soleil and M. Duboscq, the eminent Parisian opticians, saw at once the value
of this popular adaptation, and their beautiful': lenticular stereoscopes,
along with binocular photographic slides of all descriptions, caused a great
sensation, and crowds flocked to see them. It was not till the Exhibition of
1851, when M. Duboscq sent one, amongst other philosophical instruments,
that they became known in England. The French stereoscope attracted the
attention of the Queen, and M. Duboscq manufactured one, which Sir David
Brewster presented to Her Majesty in the name of the maker. On the other
hand, the reflecting stereoscope has been so thoroughly supplanted by the
other more attractive and portable form, which has thus "vulgarise”—to use
the untranslateable French term—the instrument all over the world, and has
indeed been so little seen, except by the scientific, that to speak of my
father as the inventor of the stereoscope became a very common error. When
any of his friends or family fell into it, he used to correct us, saying,
“You mean the inventor of this form,” or “of the lenticular stereoscope.”
In connection with this subject I may mention casually the rather celebrated
Chimenti controversy, which excited much discussion in the photographic
world. Dr. John Brown and his brother, Dr. Crum Brown, noticed in 1859, in a
museum at Lille, two curious drawings of a man sitting on a low stool, with
a compass in one hand and a string in the other. They appeared to be
similar, and were placed together as if intended for the stereoscope. They
were designed by Jacopo Chimenti da Empoli, a painter of the Florentine
school, who was born in 1554, and who died in 1640, thus living and working
within the period that Baptista Porta’s optical writings were known in
Italy. Dr. Brown thought, on closer inspection, that he could discover
certain slight differences, indicating that the pictures must have been
taken from slightly different positions of the eyes, and even that he could
succeed in uniting the two so as to produce a decided stereoscopic effect,
an experiment which he communicated to Sir David Brewster. With great
difficulty photographs of these drawings were obtained.1 The usual process
of a controversy went on : some saw no difference in the two pictures—others
saw very minute difference, which might be accidentally produced—although
they could not solve the mystery of two commonplace drawings so nearly alike
being thus placed side by side. Others again saw discrepancies so decided as
could only be rationally accounted for by scientific intention. Sir David
held the latter view strongly; and Professor Tait, in the volume referred to
below, gives his own opinion as follows :—
“I have very carefully considered the Chimenti sketches, and I have
concluded that they must have been drawn with the intention of making
pictures of the same object from slightly different points of view, in other
words, for a stereoscopic effect. From this it would appear impossible to
think otherwise than that some form of the stereoscope, or (as is more
probable) some equivalent form of squinting, was known to the artist.
Several competent authorities, whom I have consulted, entirely agree with me
on this point.”
In 1862 the Inventors’ Institute chose Sir David Brewster as their first
President. Himself an inventor of no ordinary success in the higher sense,
and of no ordinary want of success in the lower and commercial meaning of
the word, he threw himself with ardour into all the purposes and efforts of
this noble Institute, and sent frequent literary contributions to its organ,
The Scientific Review. An article on “Scientific Education in our Schools,”
which appeared in it after his death, was sent to the editor but a few days
before, with these words, “I am glad to see that the Review is prospering. I
wish I could do something to help you, but I am very unwell, and not able to
write.”
In 1863 Sir David was again in London, in the midst of an amount of business
and occupation of all kinds which it is astonishing to recall. He came to
meet us at St. Leonard’s, to greet us after a lengthened residence abroad,
and enjoyed much the beautiful scenery around Hastings. When with him in
town afterwards, we were amazed and alarmed by the long distances he walked,
the constant fatigue, and his long periods of abstinence from proper food.
He was exceedingly interested in Professor Pepper’s beautiful scientific
experiments of the “Ghost,” and its various manifestations, and he had much
interesting conversation and correspondence with the Professor, who had a
series of entertainments, called “ Half-hours with Sir David Brewster j” the
whole thing being in accordance with the “ natural magic ” which he ever
delighted to observe. He had himself been instrumental in raising and naming
a spectre, having been the first to observe how, by a simple photographic
process, a good representation of an aerial figure might be effected, which
was thenceforward sold in the shops in the form of a carte de visite, as
“Sir David Brewster’s Ghost!”
In the spring of 1864, while residing in Eutland Street, Edinburgh, my
father was attacked with one of the now too frequent seizures of prostrating
illness of an apparently indefinite character; his mind was on this occasion
in a peculiarly bright and placid state, and he spoke much of the happiness
which his faith in the work of His Saviour gave him when feeling so near
death. On one occasion I was afraid he was over fatigued, and begged him not
to speak for a little ; he complied, but added, “It delights me to speak of
these things.” In a neighbouring house, during his own severe illness, lay,
apparently also drawing nigh unto death, his beloved daughter-in-law, Mrs.
James Brewster, and his sympathy and affection were much drawn out to her,
many messages passing between the two apparent deathbeds. My father,
however, as was his wont, rallied completely, shaking off, at least for the
time, all appearance of illness.
In the University of Edinburgh there was always a full share of interesting
and exciting topics, in which my father ever took a most active part. He was
especially interested in a professorial contest of a peculiarly animated
nature, which took place a year later, and the result was very gratifying to
him, being the election of Professor Oakeley to the Chair of Music. Prince
Alfred’s prolonged visit to Edinburgh in 1863-64 was an object of interest
to Sir David, who was much interested in him, partly for the sake of his
father, whose memory was dear to all men of science, and partly from the
intelligence which he perceived in the young Prince.
The following extracts are from letters written during different visits to
London :—
“Athenaeum, April 29, 1863.
“My dearest Jeanie,—Dr. Lyon Playfair and I waited in the reading-room till
Mr. Gladstone came to take us to the levee in his carriage. There are to be
no fewer than 183 presentations to-day, and as Mr. Gladstone had to attend a
meeting of the Cabinet, he wrote to General Knollys to ask him to make our
reception early. He made it the first, and gave us the entree by the private
door by which the Royal party entered. After leaving the Athenaeum, we
encountered the row of carriages which were drawn up in Pall Mall, so that
parties might be admitted in the order of their arrival. We were therefore
in a difficulty, but Mr. Gladstone having told the police that we were to be
admitted early at a private door, they succeeded, with much difficulty, in
forcing us past the innumerable obstacles by which the street was blocked
up. We were sliown into General Knollys’s private room, where we found Lord
Elcho, and one or two officers, who had received the same permission that we
had got. There we waited nearly a quarter of an hour. We were then summoned
to the door of the reception room, where we waited nearly another quarter.
Mr. Gladstone was then called in alone, I presume from the awkwardness of
keeping a Cabinet Minister waiting in the passage. Some time elapsed before
we were admitted. The attendants of the Prince and Princess were not
numerous. Mr. Gladstone presented Dr. Playfair and me to the Prince and
Princess. I placed in the Prince’s hands the address, saying that it was
from the Senatus of the University of Edinburgh. Mr. Gladstone, as Rector,
presented the address from the students, and we retired with the usual
formal obeisances, during which I* found my back once or twice in the wrong
direction. The Princess is truly beautiful, and most intellectual-looking;
but I was told she varied very considerably, and this accounts for the
different characters of her photographs.”
“Athenaeum, May 1, 1863.
“I went to the Polytechnic last night to see the ghost, which is wonderful.
I introduced myself to the lecturer, Professor Pepper, after the lecture,
when he took me behind the scenes and showed me how the wonderful effect was
produced. It is the invention of a Mr. Dircks, a civil engineer, who
communicated the secret to me four years ago, and sent me a model apparatus
for showing it by means of the dressed little figures I gave to Connie, and
which I wish carefully preserved. I went again to the ghost to-day with Mr.
Hayward, who was astonished and delighted with it. . . .
“I am to dine with Kanglake and Hayward to-day. You will see in the North
British Review an article on Kinglake’s book by Mr. Hayward, which will
excite great notice.”
Athenaeum, June 5, 1862.
“I have just received from Professor Becquerel, from Paris, a copy of the
Solar Spectrum, taken photographically upon plated copper-. It shows all the
colours, and it is now probable, being certainly possible, that we shall
have in our photographs the colour of the landscape, and the tints of the
human face.”
“Athenaeum, . June 6, 1864.
“I begin this letter at mid-day, lest I should be prevented by business from
getting back here in time for the post. I am to meet Mr. Marsden Latham, the
Secretary, and Mr. Eichardson, the VicePresident, of the Inventors5
Institute, on my Lighthouse affair, at three o’clock, and may be detained
there. After an early dinner, I walked last night to the Polytechnic, to see
the improved ghost, which is charming. The scene is laid at the bottom of
the sea, on the stage, the upper surface of the water being represented by
thin and narrow folds of the finest gauze. The ghosts of fish and mermaids
swim about with great activity, and dance and frolic with a real man, who
goes down among them in a diving-bell.
“Professor Pepper took me down to see all the apparatus by which the ghost
scenes and dissolving views are produced, and I was introduced to the
originals of the fish, mermaids, and other ghosts, that are so amusing to
the public. The house was crowded, and I am told it is so every night. . . .
To-morrow at twelve o’clock, as President of the Inventors’ Institute, I am
obliged to give evidence before a committee of the House of Commons, on the
subject of a building for the Museum of Patents,—a duty which I dislike very
much.”
"June 19, 1864, Sunday.
“Although I wrote to you yesterday, and have therefore nothing to tell you,
I cannot help sitting down and putting myself en rapport with you and
Connie. . . . The day has been so sultry that I went to the nearest church,
St. James’s Chapel, close to Jermyn Street, and heard a very nice sermon by
the Eev. Mr. Oakley, on ‘Ye are the light of the world,’ in which he
compared the properties of natural with spiritual light.”
“Athenaeum, June 20, 1864.
“I observe in to-day’s Times that Captain Palliser’s invention of chilling
cannon-balls by melting them or rather pouring the cast-iron into cold iron
moulds, has been most successful; and that his other invention of utilising
old guns by lining them with rifled tubes, is highly appreciated by the
military authorities. This news will delight the Fairholmes. This fine day,
and the sight of green trees from the Club windows, make me pine for Allerly,
and our visits to Parkhill and Belleville.”
Shortly after the last date, a neglected cold fell heavily upon the aged
frame ; his state rapidly became so alarming that Lady Brewster was
telegraphed for, and he was for some time under the kind medical
superintendence of Dr. Sieveking, who pronounced that there was, and must
have been for many years, organic disease of the heart, causing most
probably much of the prostration of strength from which he had so often
suffered. After some time of the most tender and careful nursing, he again
recruited sufficiently to return to his own home. During this visit to
London, at the request of his friend and physician, he consented to take the
chair at a meeting of Edinburgh graduates, held at Dr. Sieveking’s house,
for the purpose of planning some bond of union between them. That meeting
led to the formation of the Edinburgh University Club in London, of which
Sir David Brewster was the first President, and in which he ever took a warm
interest. It is essentially a social institution, the members dining
together four times a year; but its influence is practical and important,
helping the development of fellowships in their Alma Mater, and urging on
the question of University representation. The club has gone on and
prospered, numbering now about three hundred members, which include the
majority of Edinburgh graduates scattered throughout the United Kingdom, as
well as those settled in London, and a few residents in foreign countries,
many of them eminent in the medical and other professions. The Duke of
Argyll is now President of the society. My father was held in much
affectionate esteem by the members of this club, and after his death they
addressed to Lady Brewster a vote of cordial sympathy and regret for his
loss.
Later in the same summer he was able to undertake the further journeys
northward to visit his sons and daughters in their Inverness-shire and
Aberdeenshire homes, which he made with his wife and little girl every year,
and which were a source of much health and enjoyment to him. The
recollection of his genial happiness in his visits to Parkhill is so vivid
that I cannot but allude to it. And as I shall not return to the subject, I
may mention that, in looking back, it is difficult to separate one yearly
visit from another, so invariable was his cheerfulness and enjoyment of the
northern summer and scenery.
“Coleridge says, that every man should include all his former selves in his
present; as a tree has its former year’s growth inside its last; so Dr.
Chalmers bore along with him his childhood, his youth, his early and full
manhood into his mature old age. This gave himself, we doubt not, infinite
delight—multiplied his joys, strengthened and matured his whole nature, and
kept his heart young and tender; it enabled him to sympathise, to have a
fellow-feeling with all, of whatever age.” These observations were never
better exemplified than in Sir David Brewster, who was still a child in
heart; his enjoyment of every excursion, every pleasant acquaintance, and
his active share in every social amusement, were as childlike as ever. On
the croquet ground he showed the early determination to excel which so
characterised his youth. It was a mode of taking air and exercise which
particularly suited the feeble state of his limbs, which now prevented him
from going to any distance without the possibility of frequent rests; and he
accordingly gave himself to the game with a whole-hearted energy which many
will recollect; his mortification at a bad hit, his reasons for the failure,
and his determination “to do better next time,” were identical with the
adventures of the volunteer ground and the Highland moors, while the
strength of his expressions called forth many a smile, as he declared with
all seriousness that “to croquet a neighbour’s ball was a most immoral
action.” The first season that he was unable to play his quiet game, which
was not till 1867, gave a pang to his watchers which those who despise the
game could scarcely understand.
During his later visits to Parkhill his attention, like that of Newton of
old, was much engrossed by the examination of the soap-bubble— an employment
which was a constant delight and surprise to children and young people, who
evidently thought that the philosopher was “playing himself” as well as
amusing them, while the demands on housemaid and storeroom for various kinds
of soap excited surprise in other regions. The table at which he sat, with
his little wire cups, cubes, and variously-shaped vessels, whence he
suspended or sent up the lovely filmy forms, was always a centre of
attraction, while his clear quiet explanations of the beautiful phenomena
were intelligible to all.
A great love of pictures of all kinds was a strong element in my father’s
mind—he purchased them far beyond his means, and surrounded himself with
them as with familiar friends ; this was, of course, combined with an
intense delight in the arrangement of them, and many were the changes of
position which took place in his own large collection,—a better light, a new
harmony of colour, being an ever new excuse for arranging his favourites
anew. A collection of family portraits at Parkhill having been taken down to
be revarnished, presented an irresistible opportunity for gratifying this
taste; the re-hanging of these pictures was therefore confided entirely to
him, and his happiness in doing so, and the constancy of the low whistle of
satisfaction were pleasant to see and hear. The best lights were chosen, and
the proper harmonies of size and frame were carefully attended to, without
due investigation of relationships. When it was afterwards pointed out that
the wrong husbands and wives were occasionally grouped, his son-in-law
refused to have any change made, so much did he value the handiwork of those
pleasant “hanging-days,” which could return no more.
“A day at Banchory” was one of the pleasant elements of all his
Aberdeenshire visits. There was much that was congenial, and indeed very
similar, between the characters of David Brewster and Alexander Thomson of
Banchory, and a warm mutual affection existed between them. There were the
same scientific tastes, the same genial humility, the same versatile
knowledge, the same power of communicating it, latterly the same political
sentiments, and above all the same Christian hope. The hours of the bright
summer day spent in library and museum over book, microscope, shell, and
prism were all too short, the only shadow being the fear of exciting and
overwearying the friend who, though so much younger than my father, was in
far more fragile health :—the elder one entered into his rest but three
months before the other. |
