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DURING the twenty-nine years
John Duncan stayed at Droughsburn, he pursued much the same studies as
formerly.
In Theology, he was as keen
as ever, keeping up his reading on biblical subjects, intelligently
following the religious and ecclesiastical questions of the time, and
watching, in particular, the fortunes of the Free Church and the career of
its leaders with unabated interest.
His Astronomical studies seem
to have been greatly swamped by Botany. He still used his dials and pocket
timepiece, watched the heavens, and talked about them to interested friends.
Meteorology he still
continued to inquire into and practise. From 1865 to 1869, for example, he
recorded observations on summer temperature, and in 1876, in his
eighty-second year, he purchased a new kind of "storm glass."
He never went into
Ornithology, as his friends Charles and James Black and William Beveridge
did. But with his observing eyes, in his wanderings amidst the special
haunts of our rarer birds, he gathered much more than a common acquaintance
with their names, habits and winning ways, for he loved and studied all
God's creatures. As Mr. Deans, one of his disciples, observes, "it ought not
to be overlooked that, although he may not have studied the subject
technically, he was nevertheless exceedingly well acquainted with the habits
of our wild animals, and especially the birds, and could tell amusing
anecdotes about them."
He also prosecuted Entomology
to some extent, and was often seen chasing butterflies and insects, of which
he made a collection, as at Auchleven.
In Natural History, he felt
great interest, and used to examine all the creatures that came in his way.
He possessed a considerable knowledge of animals, and read much about them,
purchasing for this purpose Charles Knight's "Natural History," a large
work.
Geology he had a great desire
to know, especially after he saw Charles Black's collection at Raeden, and
heard of his progress in it on the Solway, "for," as John said, "there
seemed to be a deal o' Geology there;" but living in the unfossiliferous
region of Aberdeen, he had little opportunity of working at it. By the time
he wished to do so, Charles had removed to a distance, and John had, as he
said, "naebody to gae 'im a lift wi't;" and Geology is a science requiring
above most, in its earlier stages, the practical assistance of a master in
the field. He was therefore reluctantly obliged to abandon the subject, in
spite of its intimate relation to the plants and their habits, and its
continual challenge to his intelligence and love of intellectual
acquisition.
Phrenology, to which he had
been first introduced by Charles Black—and to which he was then vigorously
opposed, according to the common prejudice—he by-and-by began to study,
under the tuition of an uncommon man called John Adam, at Alford. Adam was a
good antiquarian and mineralogist, whose fine collection of archmological,
geological, and other specimens is now carefully laid out and preserved at
Haughton House near Alford, being bequeathed by him to the proprietor.
Adam was also a keen
phrenologist, and assisted John in the subject. One skull in particular was
a great favourite, it seems, with them. It had been obtained at "Fecht
Falls," the scene of Montrose's victory at Alford in 1645; but whether it
was the cranium of one of the luckless warriors slain on that occasion, or a
prehistoric specimen, which is more likely, cannot now be determined. It is
described as being very flat on the top, of unusual thickness, and very
large, being "as big as twa heeds." At Mr. Adam's death, his brother buried
it, by order of Mr. Farquharson of Haughton, in the garden of the present
veterinary surgeon at Alford—a curious proceeding with such a unique
example.
John's appetite for general
knowledge was still omnivorous and keen, and he had a host of books
supplying for it healthy food; amongst others Chambers's "Information for
the People," and "Cyclopmdia," whole libraries in themselves, and the
"Dictionary of Daily Wants."
He still continued to
practise gardening. He visited all the gardens in the district, cultivated
the acquaintance of gardeners as hitherto, and worked a great deal in
gardens. In this way, he gradually acquired a considerable knowledge of the
principles and practice of garden cultivation. This had been greatly
increased by his study of several practical works, and he had lectured on
the subject at Auchleven, as we have seen.
One of his old friends still
retains grateful recollections of his services in this respect. This is Mrs.
McCombie, widow of Mr. McCombie of Cairnballoch, an old lady now above
seventy, who felt a high regard for the man, and thinks that " the story of
his enthusiasm for plants, to which he sacrificed his life, should do good."
John first became acquainted with Mr. McCombie while living in Tough, where
Cairnballoch is situated. He was then accustomed to go there to help at the
harvest and to assist in the garden, and continued to do both for years
after he came to Droughsburn. He also did a good deal of weaving for Mrs.
McCombie. On one occasion, John came to Cairnballoch with a bundle of weeds,
which Mr. McCombie asked him to name and describe. This John did, after
spreading them out on a table, in the presence of the household. Amongst
these was the old nurse, who stared at the homely lecturer in utterly
bewildered surprise, with a look at John and his plants which the editor,
when he used to tell the story, said he never would forget.
Mrs. McCombie was greatly
impressed with the weaver's earnestness of character, his willingness to
impart knowledge, his desire to make himself useful, his intimate
acquaintance with plants, his mild behaviour to those who laughed at him on
account of his devotion to them, and especially with his practical services
in gardening and the information he imparted in connection with it. His
instructions, which she says were not at all commonplace, she valued and has
since acted on with very good results, having recently resuscitated an
exhausted garden she now has by adhering to these.
Among the hints he gave, he
used to advise the making of a "trinkie," or small circular trench, round
about a bush which it was desired to nourish, at such a distance as that the
water or manure should easily reach the spongioles or "tender parts" of the
roots—surely sound gardening as well as sound science. She recalls his
method of striking off young shoots from any tree, by bending a branch down
towards the ground, inserting one of its twigs in a mound of earth till it
took root while fed by the parent tree, and then cutting it off and
planting. John did something similar when he wished to preserve a living
specimen of a rare tree which was almost dead. He selected a live branch,
however small, inserted it into a box filled with earth and supported at the
proper level, until it took root and could be planted alone. [This method
used to be also practised and advocated by the Rev. Dr. Farquharson, F.R.S.,
parish minister of Alford, a remarkable man, with unusual scientific
attainments, at a time when such tastes were rarer in the country,
especially amongst clergymen. He wrote well on several subjects in the
Transactions of the Royal and other societies, and received his degree for
his services to science. He lies, buried in Alford churchyard, where a
monument has been erected to his memory by his admirers, not far from where
the old botanist now reposes. He died about the time John came to
Droughsburn.] John used also to lend his books on gardening to his friends
at Cairnballoch.
But in spite of John's
interest in gardening, he had little admiration for cultivated flowers —
"florist flowers" he called them—as compared with wild ones; his ideas of
floral beauty being greatly bounded by its presentation in a state of
nature. This was well illustrated by his conduct on one occasion, as related
by James Black. After James had settled near Aberdeen, he had a garden which
he took great pride in tending, and in which he had some rare flowers. At
John's first visit to him there, after some years of separation, he asked
James if he still liked flowers: James replied that he did, especially
cultivated ones: Had he any? Yes. Could he see them;? Certainly; and James
led the way to the cherished garden plot. But there, contrary to
expectation, nothing seemed to interest his old friend much.
Mr. Black, nevertheless,
determined to charm the botanist, if beauty could charm him. He had recently
received some very fine, high-priced specimens from a brother, a capital
judge of these, who was then employed in the famed garden of Chatsworth, the
seat of the Duke of Devonshire. Having asked John to sit down, he cut a
"Fluke" and a "Bizarre" carnation, "lovely beyond compare" in his
estimation, and far too costly to be cut for every one. But John was no
ordinary man, and James wished to impress him with the fact that his flowers
were not ordinary also, or at least to show that he himself was not, as he
humorously puts it. He handed the pair of beauties to John, and, satisfied
that he had done a self-denying deed that deserved recognition, he prepared
his pipe, to smoke in peace while drinking in John's expected encomiums,
which he silently waited to hear. When he had lighted the weed and turned
round to look at his companion, judge of his surprise and chagrin to see the
ground covered with the petals, the last of which he was brushing to the
winds. John then looked into his face and pronounced his gems monstrosities,
"monsters, naething mair nor less!" When he received the carnations, these
being new to him, John had determined to discover their botanical class, and
finding, as he said, stamens converted into petals and similar
'transformations of organs, he had just ended this examination when his
friend looked at him, by brushing away the last flower-leaf as rubbish
spoiled by man. To crown this dashing of his hopes, John tried to convince
the florist that the majority of mankind had a perverted taste, to pamper
which man had sought out many inventions, "sick's that floories!".
He always carried on his
study and practice of drugs, treating himself and neighbours, and believing
in their efficacy as proved by long experience. Amongst others, his friend
John Taylor speaks with lively gratitude of John's medical services to him
in 1874, when he was a farm-servant at Tillychetly, near Droughsburn. The
young man was then very ill with rheumatism, and was at once called upon by
the old herbalist, who prescribed for him. John continued to visit the
patient regularly at the farm and, after his removal to his home, watched
the progress of his treatment. He took him out to walk when convalescent,
and instructed him in the cure of this trying disease, to which outdoor
workers in the country are very liable on account of their exposed life.
In Politics, he remained a
stanch and advanced Liberal, and his interest in them continued unabated all
his life. He regularly read the newspapers, latterly the Scotsman, with
remarkable zest, and followed the many new questions evolved by the progress
of events with unusual eagerness and intelligence for an old man. War, free
trade, chartism, and the land laws were keenly studied by him. On these and
other subjects, he was decidedly ahead of the time, and many thought him
radical then, though fewer would do so now; for he sympathised with most of
the recent ideas now held in connection with them, which will, no doubt, be
the basis of future legislation.
As Dr. Williams observes, his
views of the various political events of the time, strongly biassed though
they were, in his opinion, were evidently "the result of much thought and
deeply rooted conviction." "It was astonishing," another friend remarks,
"how he kept pace, about election times, with everyday occurrences,
considering his slow way of reading and other drawbacks; but when he once
got an inkling of his own side, he could cudgel many of his opponents that
were far better book-learned than he."
On subjects in which he was
well versed, though he never was an orator, he could still discourse with
surprising fluency and power. "No one that had not heard him," says Dr.
Williams, "would believe that John was such a grand orator. Yet just let him
get a fair start on some of his favourite themes, and he would lecture long
enough." Although he enjoyed the controversies of others, controversy was
not very much in his line, on account of his ardent temperament, which made
him lose patience when keenly opposed.
John's houses of call were
comparatively few, and were chiefly confined to those in which there existed
some congeniality of taste, reading or study. His intercourse with any one
required to yield some intellectual or other higher gain, or it could not be
continued. But there were some of his neighbours between whom and himself
this community of sentiment existed, and whom he frequently visited. One of
these intelligent friends was the shoemaker, Willie Williams, who lived over
the hill near the Free Church, at the Milton of Cushnie. "Willie's shop," as
the Rev. George Williams describes, "was the retreat of the neighbourhood on
a rainy or frosty day, for the shoemaker was a good politician, and
remarkably gifted with the gab. [That is, good at using his tongue. Gab is
from the same root as gabble and gobble.] When a heel-ring or toe-bit was
lost, or when time hung heavy on their hands, the neighbours would dander
down to get a crack with the clever souter. A few yards along was the
carpenter's shop, reigned over by John Ferries, a very intelligent, humorous
and kind-hearted man, whose mother, 'Auld Nanny,' was everybody's mother.
The old mill not far off, built a hundred years ago, was worked by John
Taylor, a queer, comical fellow, but somewhat of a student. The village of
Milton was the centre of the wit and wisdom of the parish, and few villages
could boast of so well-read a shoemaker as Willie Williams, of so kind a
body as Auld Nanny Smith, or so queer a fish as Jock Taylor."
The shoemaker's son, Dr.
Williams of Tarland, gives a realistic glimpse of the intercourse between
John and his father, interesting as exhibiting the weaver in an unusual
aspect at this period, which recalls his younger days at Netherton. "John's
visits to us on Sundays, as he passed to church, were almost weekly. On
other days, they were not very frequent, but, when they did happen, they
lasted an hour or two at a time. On these occasions, ordinary local gossip
and such small matters were quite beneath notice. The sayings and doings of
the highest personages in church and state were duly and deftly criticised.
That my father and John did not know more about all those topics of
discussion than did all remaining humanity, is a sceptical after-thought on
my part, not justified by my opinion then or any doubt or hesitation •on
theirs. Could I give you a picture of the two worthies when thus engaged,
you might place it side by side with Tam o' Shanter and Souter Johnny.
"Of controversy, there was
little or none. When it happened to be my father's turn to speak and when
the theme was exceptionally important, he would for a minute or two give
over work, and let off such an oration as would have done honour to any
Yankee stump platform. John, sitting up close to him and occasionally wiping
the gathering perspiration from his forehead, the result of excitement
roused by the topics in hand, would then make a similar performance. For
myself, I was practically a nonentity. They would no more have thought of
listening to me, even if I wished to interfere, which I did not and could
not, than of listening to a two-year-old child. Yet it would have been
difficult to say which of the three enjoyed the affair most. That they did
so most heartily was very evident. Their faces, now beaming with
intelligence as they clearly unravelled some knotty point, then bursting
with derisive laughter as they exposed some silly, stupid Tory, and anon
stern as any black-capped judge when they foreboded some dire calamity about
to burst on the country, clearly showed that they enjoyed a mental treat of
the most varied description. My father was an extensive reader, and so was
John. The weekly Aberdeen Free Press was their newspaper oracle, and the
editor, Mr. McCombie, only a lesser deity to them.
"Altogether, they were a
noble pair, mightily pleased with their own gifts and acquirements. It was
only on such occasions that John would come out. At other times, he seemed
very quiet and unobtrusive. At best, his eloquence was not of the thunder
and lightning order: it was always tempered with more reserve than were the
statements of his companion. Still, both were about equally forgetful of the
fact that there are two sides to a question. Nor was it needful, in the
circumstances, that they should temper their remarks to suit a fastidious
taste. Being alone, they could argue to please themselves.
"The excited state of public
opinion caused by the Disruption of '43 also furnished them with ample
materials for discussion. By way of variation, when John had to describe
some person, place, or event bearing on the point at issue, he would
graphically narrate the circumstances under which he acquired the
information. That he did well. I only wish I could reproduce a specimen, but
memory fails me."
The Milton had, of course,
its grocery or general store, to supply the home necessaries of the
district. This was kept by a highly respectable, kindly man called George
Williams, already spoken of as entertaining the weaver when . going to
church, now farmer at Holmhead in the neighbourhood. As his son, the
minister, says, "He got more of John's company when in the village than any
of the rest, for he believed out and out in the man. He was often laughed at
because he thought John a hero, when almost all his neighbours were inclined
to call him `daft.' As he had a notion of flowers without knowing much about
them, many, many were the plants he brought home in his walks round about
Cushnie and in his journeys on business, to be laid°aside for John to see
and tell about."
Alford was not behind the
rest of the county in intellectual activity when Mutual Instruction Classes
were first founded in 1850, for in September of that year it instituted a
branch, called the Alford Literary Society. This lasted for a good many
years, and showed great vitality during its existence. It no doubt inspired
and benefited its members, and helped to do what an enthusiastic secretary
stated to be one of its objects—to prove that "the far north might merit the
credit of sending to the south something else than snow." When first
founded, it was thought to be a daring if not dangerous innovation on old
ways, and the members were supposed "to be rather go-ahead." For a time,
they were not a little ashamed to let it be known that they belonged to the
Society. But they persevered, and their early efforts are still represented
by the existing Alford Mutual Improvement Society. They not only read
papers, but initiated and carried on for a time a course of lectures, one of
which was given by the Rev. Dr. Gillan, and another, in 1852, on animal
magnetism, by Professor Robertson Smith, then a young man fresh from
college. One of the central meetings of the Union also took place in Alford,
in 1855, under their auspices, and was very successful.
John used to attend their
meetings, which were held in Peter Clerihew the smith's barn, at the Muir of
Alford, a little above the parish church. At his first appearance, he said
he "didna come there to ask questions nor to teach," which rather
misrepresented himself, seeing that he had done so much teaching in his
time. Contrary to his practice at Auchleven, he took little part in their
discussions, no doubt greatly on account of his advancing years ; besides,
their subjects, being chiefly literary, were not so much in John's line.
They do not seem to have asked him to write on any of his scientific
specialities, nor to have known that he had any gift in that way or had done
work in it already; and he was not the man to tell them. John thought, and
perhaps correctly, that in their discussions there was often more sound than
substance; but in this criticism, he forgot that it is one of the aims of
such societies to train to the effective regulation of sound,—in other
words, to learn how to speak, in which John himself was much behind, having
had no such opportunities in his neglected youth.
For general gossiping, John
had neither relish nor time, and he was not slow to express his strong
contempt for it; vastly preferring his books, plants, and pilgrim staff to
such empty pastime, even when innocent. As Mrs. Webster bears witness, in
all his abundant conversation at her fireside, he "never spoke ill o' his
nee'bours ; never abused ony body wi' his tongue."
At my first visit to him, I
asked him if his neighbours did not visit him. He said that they did at
times, but he did not care very much for their calls, for most of them
wasted his time and were rough with his plants. "Then," said he, "the maist
o' them can speak o' naething but nowt! [Cattle, the same as the English
neat, as in neat-herd, or cow-herd.]—o' nou't but nowt!"
The whole style of the man,
and his strong objection to mere gossipy talk, forcibly suggest his likeness
in this respect to Wordsworth, as given in his admirable poem on "Personal
Talk," much of which expresses very happily the feelings and habits of the
botanist as well as of the poet.
To John, truly -
"Better than such discourse,
did silence long,
Long barren silence, square with his desire."
To him also in his lonely
life, as to the poet, with special emphasis, books were -
"A substantial world, both
pure and good:
Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,
His pastime and his happiness did grow.
There found he themes, a plenteous store,
Matter wherein right voluble he was." |
