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THE winter's leisure was
spent in getting into brief emphatic expression the Professor's many
thoughts upon the formation of a well-balanced manhood, which his long
acquaintance with young men, and his observation of their tendency to turn
from sanity and righteousness at the call of any "philosophy and vain
deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world," had
suggested. He noticed to what class of character each beguiling call
appealed, and he endeavoured —by a book which might serve as a rallying cry
to all open - minded readers - to summon them back to the right
starting-point.
Some exception has been taken
to the title of this little volume. 'Self-Culture,' it has been urged, means
self-worship; but the objection is pedantic, and the term conveys correctly
the writer's meaning. Mind, body, and spirit go to form a human being, and
each needs recognition, instruction, education, to interfuse its influence
with the others into integral health and symmetry. The Professor, himself of
sane mind and wholesome habits, loving life for all its joys and lessons,
having learned, in reverence for God the creator and provider, and in
communion with His Spirit, how momentous a gift is this of life, impressed
in wise words upon the young the right attitude toward life, the right use
to be made of its opportunities. "Having," he says, "by the golden gift of
God the glorious lot of living, let us endeavour to live nobly."
His counsel is conveyed in
brief, apt, and vivid expression. No dull reiteration saps the interest with
which we read the little book. Its ninety pages contain more of pure wisdom
than all the weighty tomes of modern philosophy, with their dreary and
futile anxiety to make us independent of God. How welcome to the young
manhood of the world this antidote to the torpor of these verbose schemes
has proved, is indicated by its wide acceptance. Nine editions of the book
appeared in three years, and twenty years have produced no fewer than
twenty-two editions. It has been translated into modern Greek, French,
German, Italian, Danish, Swedish, and Finnish, has appeared in many American
reprints, and in 1893 was bought amongst the English-speaking natives of
India to the extent of 2000 copies. Many requests have come to its publisher
from districts in India for permission to translate it into the local
vernacular. One of these was received recently from a remote northern
quarter, where the people only a few years ago were notably fierce and
warlike, and averse to British rule.
Its composition occupied four
months, and it was published by Messrs Edmonston & Douglas towards the end
of 1873.
The early part of this year
was clouded by the death of Dr Thomas Guthrie, the preacher, philanthropist,
and friend, whom Professor Blackie esteemed along with Chalmers and Macleod
as apostolic. The very sight of him was energising, and his voice, uplifted
always for the right and against the wrong, or joyous in the interchange of
friendly jest and story, strung men up to effort, or sweetened them into
charity.
"I am the living to praise
God," Dr Guthrie had written in December; "for it would be a deplorable
thing if I had had to go through all the sufferings of the last nine weeks
and should get no good from them." Less than three months later he had
joined the ever-living to praise Him.
In "The Generous Evangelist,"
a poem made known at the time in 'Good Words' and elsewhere, and finally
embodied in 'Songs of Religion and of Life,' the Professor recorded—
How in the rough-hewn Scotsman
dwelt
The word of God with power.
This man smells not of books.
A green
And lusty show he bears
As one whose foot hath wandering been
Where vitalising airs
Sweep the far-purpled hills.
His God
He cabins not in creeds;
But feels him where the fir-trees nod,
And where the south wind speeds
O'er blossomy fields. In waves
and winds
For Gospel texts he looks;
And in the hearts of men he finds
What no man found in books.
A continued tussle with the
Sanscrit grammar varied the work of non-academical hours, and its effects
are manifest in its wider treatment of all subjects connected with the
growth of language. His own annotated copy of the second edition of
'Self-Culture' has constant marginal references to the ancient Sanscrit
literature and philosophy of education and conduct, and several of the
papers published a year later in the 'Hore Hellenic' bear evidence of this
adventure towards the sources of European speech. It was by no means an
exploration, and his object was not research. It was rather to glean from
the labours of pioneers as much of their acquisitions as his mind, trained
in language, could assimilate without difficulty.
He was busy inculcating his
own large views of natural methods in acquiring Greek, and a note from
Robert Browning in January, conveying the poet's thanks for hospitality
shown to a friend, contains a sympathetic sentence :-
I altogether believe in
your theory of the necessity of speaking out what ought properly to live
in speech—as it exclusively must at first have done.
A lecture on the whole
subject of Education belongs to March 7. it was delivered at Broughty Ferry,
and offered eleven propositions as a scheme of reform, "whose truth," said
the 'Pall Mall Gazette,' "is only equalled by their profanity,"—which meant
boldness in the face of pedantry hallowed by the dry-rot of ages, or
jubilant over-cram, its mushroom product.
A short visit to Professor
Campbell Shairp broke the journey home. "Two such splendid days, with a
grand expanse of sea to look out on from these sea-topping terraces, and
such nice people within, so full of love and intelligence and grace, both
Scotch saving grace and Greek decorating grace!" He returned to Edinburgh to
revise his paper on the "Pre-Socratic Philosopiiy" for 'Fraser's Magazine,'
and to wind up all his business at the University, where another blast of
the trumpet on Educational Reform closed the session.
His nephew, Alexander
Blackie, for many years like a son to him and to Mrs Blackie, had reached
the point of choosing a career, and had decided on entering one of the
larger mercantile houses in Leith, London, or Liverpool, as fortune might
decide. To fit him for acceptance, it was necessary to give him an
opportunity of acquiring more German than grammars and exercises bestow. It
was therefore planned to spend the summer months in Germany, and mainly at
Göttingen.
The party, recruited by Miss
Augusta Wyld, took steamer from Leith to Hamburg, and were established in
pleasant quarters at Göttingen by the beginning of May. The Professor cast
the slough of all customary duties and causes, and flung himself heartily
into the University life, attending Dr Pauli's lectures on History, and
Professor von Seebach's summer course on Geology. It was an old study
revived, and one which made his walking tours a constant delighted perusal
of nature's cipher. He sat on the benches with the class, as true a Bursch
as any; and shouldered his knapsack, hammer in pocket, for excursions to the
Harz, which Seehach organised to bring his students face to face with facts.
As interesting to him were Dr Pauli's historical tours to Hildesheirn,
Brunswick, and Wolfeiibtittel, and his observations were duly despatched to
the 'Scotsman,' in whose columns they appeared.
The open-air life of
Göttingen suited them all, until in July the heat became unbearable, and the
ladies suffered from its effects. Not so the Professor for once, as he
selected that month for a three weeks' peregrination in Westphalia and
Lorraine. Paderborn with its perpetual miracle of a river sprung full-grown,
Soest, Bonn, Andernach with its volcanic neighbourhood, Metz with its
battle-fields near at hand—where the dead lay buried amongst waving corn—the
Eifel, with more volcanic associations, Münster, Bielefeld,—all occupied his
time and observation. Too long journeys, however, and fasts too exhausting,
brought on an illness between Bielefeld and Hanover, and he had to stop to
be doctored on the way. He always objected to carrying food while on his
travels, preferring to trust to casual inns and station beer and sausage,
and when these failed he was surprised and a little indignant to find
himself tired out at the end of a twelve hours' fast. It was humiliating to
discover that his vitality depended on due supplies of food and drink, which
in their ordinary course he did not at all despise, but accepted as part of
an inflexible social and domestic system, and as provocative of charity and
good - fellowship. A short rest at Gottingen restored him, and all four
prepared for a final tour before returning to Scotland. This embraced
Berlin, the Baltic coast, the island of Rugen, and Copenhagen. By the end of
August they were back in Edinburgh, and on their way to Aitnacraig.
Gaelic, Erse, and Samiscrit
mingled their vexed currents in a maelstrom of autumn study, relieved by the
proofs of' Self-Culture,' and by a digression to Bismark as a worthy topic
for provincial lecture. As the year advanced, the success of his little book
brightened its close. Letters from all sorts and conditions of men greeted
its author.
It is all gold [wrote Sir
Theodore Martin], and I would like to see it in the hand of every young
man in the three kingdoms. The only point in which I differ from you is
your estimate of Thackeray.
I like much its sound
practical wisdom and its deep reverence [wrote Dr MacGregor].
Send me five copies
[commissioned Bishop Wordsworth in a letter to Mr Douglas], one for
myself, like Solon not yet too old to learn from wiser men, and one for
each of my four sons.
The Professor spent the New
Year of 1874 in Liverpool, where his nephew had been received into the large
and influential business of Messrs Balfour & Williamson. On his return a new
"cause" was presented to him, and after some natural hesitation he undertook
its probationary championship. For some years he had agreed with other
scholars in Scotland that gradual extinction threatened the Gaelic language,
and that its disappearance would mean a serious loss to all philology, and
to the whole body of literary and artistic thought and suggestion.
An attempt had already been
made by leading Free Churchmen, amongst whom should be mentioned Dr
M'Lauchlan and Mr Alexander Nicolson, to ensure the scholarship of the
country against this inevitable calamity. But the agent who had been
employed for a year to rouse attention to the matter was not sufficiently
notable to succeed, and an appeal for co-operation was forwarded to
Professor Blackie. The idea was to found a Celtic Chair in the University of
Edinburgh, whose occupant should make the whole group of Celtic dialects the
subject of academical lectures, with particular care for Gaelic. Professor
Blackie had already studied Gaelic to good purpose both conversationally and
through its literature, and was at one with this wise foresight and
scholarly purpose. But he had not sufficient confidence in his own capacity
for business to be willing at once to undertake the collection of a fund
sufficiently large for endowment. At least £12,000 would be required, and
the money already collected was a very trifling instalment of this sum.
Urged by his friends of the
Free Church on the ground of his known enthusiasm for Gaelic, of his
position, of the welcome given to his appearance on all platforms and in
every circle, Professor Blackie came at last to realise that he was probably
the only man likely to succeed in this enterprise, and he consented to be
the mouthpiece of its promoters, on the conditions of tentative success and
of perfect independence in the performance of his mission. He decided, as a
first step, to run up to London in March, and to sound the weightier
merchants, peers, and proprietors of Scottish origin concentrated there.
Another motive for this hasty visit to London was the publication of 'Horae-HelIenicae,'
which Messrs Macmillan accepted for the spring season. This book was a
collection of essays on various points of Greek research which he considered
to have received inadequate treatment at the hands of the more speculative
modern scholars. Some of them had already done service in the form of
lectures, others had appeared in learned periodicals. Two of them advocated
the views of modern Greek and of classical accent which were now associated
with his name; one treated of the use of hexameters in English verse; others
concerned modern theories on Greek mythology and on the origin of language;
and the rest engaged controversially against Mr Grote's defence of the
Sophists and his heterodox handling of the Spartan constitution. The volume
was dedicated to Mr Gladstone, who accepted the compliment with pleasure,
although on many points he dissented from the Professor's conclusions.
A visit to the city resulted
in several promises of £100 each to the fund for a Celtic Chair, and the
success of this preliminary canter decided him to run the race for a year.
His business done, he returned to Edinburgh and to the work of the closing
session. His study in Erse determined him to see Ireland in the summer, and
he left Hill Street at the end of April 1874 with purpose and preparation
complete. But three weeks had first to be given to his friend Mr Archer, who
wished to paint his portrait, and he halted in London in the artist's
hospitable home. Two hours of every morning were devoted to the
"counterfeit," which took shape in an excellent picture of the Professor,
swathed in the wonted plaid, and standing amid scenery suggestive of some
nook in a Highland glen. The attitude was chosen as suited to "bring out the
character of a man who thinks best on his legs." He found the process
purgatorial, and avenged himself by a perfect whirl of afternoon and evening
activity. Meetings of the Education Commission alternated with gaieties. "Jowett
and Sewell were there, with their smooth English faces and cold English
reticence."
The most interesting episodes
were the customary visit to Dr Manning, and an encounter with Mr Bradlaugh—men
at the opposite poles of opinion, whose friendly relations with the
Professor testify more than words to his large- hearted tolerance, and to
that swift recognition of the divine in man which was never troubled by
shallow censure or ignorant scare.
This morning, after I
stood for the counterfeit of my bony hand and significant knuckles, I
swung down to Westminster, where Archbishop Manning now has his palace,
a house as he modestly calls it, on the Vauxhall Bridge Road. He was
extremely agreeable and full of telling anecdotes with him only two
theological students and the editor of the 'Tablet,' yelept Rankin, a
very intelligent man: so that betwixt us, round a well-spread luncheon
table, a brisk fire was kept up. The Archbishop is to give me a letter
of introduction to the Bishop of Tuam, who is a famous Celt, and has
made an Irish translation of the 'Iliad.' I want to get into the midst
of the regular hot and bright Irish, and to avoid all Saxon
solicitations.
He met Charles Bradlaugh at
Mrs Gregory's.
No ghosts! [he records],
but some dozen of strange, stray characters, and among others Bradlaugh,
whom she [Mrs Gregory] conceits herself to be able to convert—catching a
bull with a cobweb ! A bull verily—a big Ajax, tall and broad. having a
fancy for looking closely at nature, I determined to go and hear him
preach in his atheistic church on Sunday evening at the East End. It was
a notable exhibition. A terrible tearing assault against the Book of
Exodus, and its anthropomorphic representations of the unseen God;
eloquence powerful and fervid of the first order. Really a remarkable
man, and from his point of view triumphant over those who hold by the
infallibility of the record, instead of the Divinity of the
dispensation. He made incidentally a public profession of atheism, which
caused me to write him a long letter. I imagine that in the Socratic way
I may be able to do him some good. He is a manly, honest fellow, and
quite worthy of gentlemanly treatment, which I am afraid he seldom
receives.
The letter was courteously
answered by Mr Bradlaugh. "I would like to convince you that my atheism is
neither shallow nor flippant. Spinoza, whom you name, has been in much my
revered teacher." The "Socratic way" scarcely justified its antique
reputation; but had men earlier struck hands with Charles Bradlaugh and bade
him welcome in the name and charity, and insight of God, as this sweet-
hearted Christian did at their first encounter, can we doubt the result?
Here is the record for May 4 and 5 :
I lunched with
Browning—charming, fine, manly, frank fellow, full of sense and
eloquence, and overflowing with Greek. In the evening I dined with
Murray, Albemarle Street, in a room hung round with portraits of Byron,
Lockhart, Southey, and all the famous Tories of the last generation.
To-day I breakfasted with Froude, who is just popping off for a summer
retreat in Wales. He gave me some hints about Ireland, and was very
bland and wise. Then I came home and spelt my Irish Bible for an hour
and a half, and thereafter started off to lunch with Donald Fraser in
that region of stately dreariness and cold formality called Bayswater.
But mine host was all warmth and cordiality, and we were extremely
jolly, he, I, and the Rev. Robert Taylor.
The month wore into the
middle with dinners and lunches here and there, and with a raid amongst the
publishers to find one willing to bring out a philosophical work by Dr
Robert Wyld, and another to launch a little volume by Miss Christina Blackie
on the 'Etymology of Place-names.' The good genius in the latter case was Mr
Isbister, although Mr Murray undertook the second edition, and the Professor
wrote a preface to the educational part of the book. A letter to his sister
from Stepney contains news of his success on her behalf, and gossip about
his gaddings to and fro. "I take to the dissipation quite easily. It is mere
trifling when compared with the digging at Sanscrit roots in dark Hill
Street!
At a luncheon with Lady
Burdett Coutts he met the Duke of Sutherland, who broached the subject of
crofts and crofters, and invited him to come to Dunrobin in October. He
accepted the invitation, but afterwards wrote to the Duke to explain that he
was an ardent upholder of the crofters, and had written, spoken, sung much
and at many times to that effect. The invitation was repeated, and the visit
eventually paid. On May 13 he lunched at Niddry Lodge with Campbell of Islay,—
the finest fellow that I
have seen here, full of a free, frank, broad, vigorous, and hilarious
manhood, he is great in Celtic and in geology; and can use a painter's
brush to purpose besides. In the evening I swung down to Cheyne Row and
had an hour's talk with stout old Carlyle, who is flailing about him in
the same one-sided magnificently unreasonable way that you know. Of
course I protested against that sort of thing in toto; and ended by
putting myself under the wing of Aristotle, who, if not a greater
genius, is certainly a much wiser man, than Carlyle.
An "amazing event," as he
describes it, detained him in town. This was an appointment with the
American publisher of his 'Four Phases of Morals' and 'Self-Culture,' who
insisted on putting £50 in the Professor's pocket. Later on the same day he
met Mr Gladstone,—
and we had much
interesting talk about Celtic and Saxon elements in British blood, about
the recent excavations at Troy, and other subjects. I presented to him
an elegantly bound copy of my new book ['Hone HelIenica '], which he
received graciously, and said that I had paid him a great compliment. To
which of course I replied that he had furnished my front leaf with a
great ornament.
Mr Archer let him go at last,
on condition of his bond to return at Christmas for further sittings, and he
sped away to Gloucester to pay Mr Dobell a passing visit. He found his
friend in fragile health, but without portent of the end, so near.
From Nailsworth he went to
Wales to renew some friendships there, in hasty fashion, with loins girt and
staff in hand. On May 23 he started for the Green isle.
It is a sad thing to part
from so much beauty, brightness, and goodness, but a glimpse of
excellence is a joy for ever in memory. Dolabella is as full of grace
and simplicity and gentleness and bright-eyed intelligence as ever.
At Dublin his host was an old
acquaintance called Dr Dobbin, who lived in the suburbs about a mile from
Donnybrook. He took a little cottage for the Professor, who wished to spend
some peaceful and studious hours every day; but this was made impossible by
the rush of hospitality. He gave up his struggles with Erse and his hopes of
solitary explorations in. and round about the city, and let himself go on
the current of Irish kindness, not without a little grumbling at its force.
He had come to Ireland, already weary of being lionised, to inquire and to
study. But he enjoyed his dinners with the Provost of the University, with
Professor Dowden, and with Professor Mahaffy. Besides these academical
hosts, the acquaintance to which he most cordially responded was the well -
known specialist, Sir William Wilde.
An enthusiastic
antiquary, with his head full of old castles, old chapels, old
sepulchres, and every sort of curious lumber consecrated with
millennarian dust. He is a tall, blithe, frank, and very intelligent
fellow. Yesterday I called on his lady, who is a poetess, and very tall.
She has an admiration for my 'Ĉschylus,' and of course for myself!
Dinners with the Wildes and
"various notable Dublin intellectualities" followed, and he found it hard
work to snatch moments from the flying hours in which to read Froude's and
other Irish histories.
Dr Stokes, President of the
Royal Irish Academy, piloted him through the Museum, and introduced him to
his daughter, who was just then collaborating with Lord Dunraven at a work
on the oldest architecture of Ireland. By this time he had changed his
quarters from the suburban cottage to Mr Armstrong's house at Rathmines. Mr
Erskine Nicol had furnished him with a heartily hoioured introduction to his
host. Together they
drove off to Drogheda,
and, under the experienced captainship of Sir William Wilde, entered the
subterranean chambers of famous, old, pre-Celtic kings, perhaps the
oldest buildings in Europe, possibly older than the Pyramids, of which
they are rude types. Sir William, a restless, keen-eyed old gentleman,
who has all the district of the Boyne written on the volumes of his
brain, snuffed and poked about.
The battle-field, the round
tower, the Irish crosses, were all inspected.
Much as he enjoyed Dublin, he
was glad to get quit of the " tussle of society," and to bid it farewell at
a dinner with the Club of the Royal Irish Academy. His host escaped with
him, and by June 9 they had put a hundred miles between them and the
convivial capital, halting first at Cashel of the Kings.
I now feel the dear
delight of no goad in this metropolis of old abbeys, castles, and round
towers, and am soothed by a strange and grateful feeling of quiet
liberty after five weeks' driving and junketing and fretting about, and
serving all things but my own sweet will.
From Cashel to Cork, from
Cork to Queenstown, thence to the groves of Blarney, where he kissed the
Blarney stone with the end of a Platonic stick," were but stages on the way
to Glengariff, Bantry Bay. Mr Armstrong returned to Dublin, and he settled
down for some days to revel in the "Green Paradise," and to read the
histories of Ireland which he had brought. They led him to make several
excursions in the neighbourhood to identify the scenes of many a tragedy.
Everywhere in this
country the memorials meet us of blood and bungling, of stupidity and
swindling. One needs only to travel here to forgive the Irish all their
follies.
He reached Kenmare on June
17, and stayed some days with Mr and Mrs Trench at Dereen, a visit which he
thoroughly enjoyed in spite of the fact that the main conveyance was by yawl
on the water, and that he held with the immortal to whom "a boat was a
moving prison with a chance of being drowned." Here is a sea- adventure :-
We keep a yawl, and so
long as the breeze keeps steady, ploughing the briny way is sufficiently
pleasant; but then the breeze is like the Irish character, extremely
impulsive and fitful, and it does not always blow in the right
direction: this of course causes us to go by the longest possible road,
technically called " tacking"; then the breeze, which is our sole
dependence, without giving any warning, or assigning any substantial
reason, will suddenly die away, and so we lie becalmed; and the night
comes on, and though the stars twinkle blissfully in the blue sky, and
the moon glances with poetical light over the lofty swelling waters, and
the dip of the oar strikes fire from the phosphorescent billow, yet one
does not feel exactly either easy in body or poetically moved in spirit.
So we get out of our large craft and seek the shore in a small punt,
which at every bound brings the greedy waters snapping at our upper
vestments, not to mention porpoises and other sea- monsters gambolling
about all round us, blowing and snorting fearfully with their noses (if
they have any), and threatening at every turn to upset our little prison
with a flap of the tail, and set us at large liberty for ever in the
deep Neptunian mansions. This is a literal picture of a voyage which we
made last night home from a visit to one of the Saxon gentlemen who rent
Celtic castles on the north side of the bay.
On June 22d he
saw Killarney lakes in
the easiest and most effective way without losing a moment's time. The
road from Kenmare comes close down upon the top of the lakes; so Mr
Trench telegraphed in the morning that a boat should be sent up from the
Lake Hotel to take me from the mail-car, and row me down through the
whole range of the woody meanderings of those delightful waters.
He reached Limerick next day
on the eve of St John, where he made
a march of discovery
through the most ragged part of the town, and you may imagine the
sensation I created appearing in my Edinburgh costume. Great crowds of
boys are gathered about in corners lighting bonfires, to which I was
invited by the bolder sort to contribute, but the greater part evidently
did not consider me an approachable being. All stared,—some winked and
grinned, —others burst out into open laughter,—and some fled in fear as
from a bogle!
The appearance of his trim
figure in black surtout and plaid, with broad-brimmed hat and twirling
stick, and feathery white hair blown about and over his collar, stepping,
pausing, gazing, perchance singing, certainly uttering aloud his momentary
emotions must have filled the slums of Limerick on St John's Eve with awe
and admiration.
A slow journey brought him to
Tuam, where disappointment awaited him in the Archbishop's absence: but
Father Bourke received him with all cordiality and reasoned discourse
tempered by champagne. The next stage was Galway, on the shelves of whose
College he found 'Hor Hellenic' newly planted. "The boys here have a custom
of answering to everything 'All right!' but one finds generally that it is
all wrong."
He left Galway) after a day's
rest, for the Connemara hills, and settled down at Kylemore, where he
enjoyed a spell of climbing and exulting in the grandeur and beauty of the
Irish highlands.
The fogs were creeping
about among the highest peaks, but I saw the wonderful variety of gleam
and gloom that, as in Wester Ross, characterises this land of strangely
intersected fell and flood.
Sunday occurred during his
"soul's rest" at Kylernore.
It had a kindly whim to
deliver to the excellent people a sermon. So they called some twenty or
thirty from the neighbourhood together in the dining-room of Kylemore
House. I led off with a psalm and a short prayer, and then discoursed on
Hebrews xi., the drift of my discourse being to show that faith is an
act of the practical reason ill necessarily influencing the will, and
leading to a persistent course of conduct in harmony with the belief in
God and the divine order of the universe,—the identity of faith and
work, or the necessary fatherhood of the one by the other, becoming thus
evident.
His tour was at an end. It
had been favoured by cloudless weather. Hurried although it was, and
deflected from its purpose by overmastering hospitality, he had seen much
and learnt much, and he came back sad at heart for Ireland.
Belfast and Edinburgh were
but stages for Altnacraig, which he reached on July 4. His voyage in the
Iona was depressing, and he was forced to seek shelter from the rain, and to
find in Swinburne's 'Bothwell' some compensation for lack of movement. He
was no critic of form and verse, and always insisted that a story should
interest him, which the misfortunes of Queen Mary failed to do. Perhaps his
predilection for John Knox extended to that "sair sanct's" detestation of
contemporary crowned women.
It seems to me [he wrote
to his aunt] that a woman cannot be a politician, or live amongst
politicians, without becoming either bad or miserable.
His friend Sydney Dobell
breathed his last "in blessed quietness" on 22nd of August 1874, and he was
at once entreated to hold himself in readiness to pay the last honours to
the form which had held that urbane and delicate spirit. He went to the
funeral, which took place on September 1 at Painswick, and afterwards wrote
a short account of the poet,—"a man of most pure, generous, and altogether
noble character."
The summer of 1874 was
singularly fine, and Mr Hutcheson organised a series of all-day excursions
to and from Loch Scavaig and Skye. He invited the party at Altnacraig and a
contingent of friends, visitors to Oban, to make the first trip with
himself. At six in the morning the steamer left Oban pier, and at ten in the
evening it returned. It was a day to be well remembered: sea like glass; a
shoal of mackerel pursued into a shallow bay and leaping like frothed silver
on the waters; tumbling porpoises; the rock-bound coast of Skye, the fresh
waves of Loch Scavaig, where a wind seems ever in ambush ; and the solemn
blackness of Loch Coruisk. Dr Appleton, Mr M'Lennan, Mr T. T. Stoddart, and
Mr and Mrs Ross of Stepney were of the party, whose vagrant centre and
stimulus was the Professor.
Not long after, Mrs Blackie
invited the same party to a picnic at the old stronghold of the Lords of
Lorne in Kerrera, Castle Gylen,—perched on the southern clift where currents
divide and seas leap and roar when the wind sweeps the Atlantic. The talk
was of Highland chiefs and their followers, of the loyal adhesion of older
times and its betrayal in days when "a four-footed people" is rated worthier
than a clan of faithful hearts. They went back by boat along the Sound to
high tea at Altnacraig, where songs wound up the day.
When the summer visitors
left, the Professor went to Inveraray Castle, where the Princess Louise was
staying with the Duke and Duchess of Argyll.
At 7.30 the most
important event of the day took place. The Duke marched in first with
the Princess, who had a beautiful gold chaplet on her head. Lord Halifax
took in the Duchess; and to me was assigned Miss Wood, the daughter of
his lordship, beautiful, bland, but not venturing out her horns before
the majesty of a Professor of Greek. The rest of the party were Lord
Percy and his spouse, Lord Cohn, the Marquis, Lady Halifax, and more
than half- a-dozen of young Argyll chicks with the most beautiful locks
of flowing gold. After dinner we marched into the drawing-room, where I
had to read my Gaelic translations to the Princess, which went off with
manifest approbation. Nothing of special importance occurred. Lord
Halifax seemed amused at the strong feeling which I expressed with
regard to Bob Lowe and his wretched educational mechanics. The piper
played, marching to and fro on the lawn, half an hour before dinner, and
the same shrill swell of musical drones proclaimed itself at 8 A.M. this
morning as a sort of cock-crow.
Next day he stayed at the
Castle, reading up the Ossianic controversy while time rest of the party
went picnicking to Loch Awe in a drizzling mist. At night he sang "Bifleher"
in the drawing-room.
The Princess is very
agreeable, and 'I have long talks with her. She is an artistic creature,
and not given to deal in discursive talk, but extremely frank and
intelligent.
There is a tradition that he
clapped her on the back and called her "a bonnie lassie," but it lacks
written confirmation. Certain it is that he sent her an offering of his book
'On Beauty' when he went home.
After a fortnight at
Altnacraig the trio left to make a tour in the north as far as Loch Shin
before returning to Edinburgh. Included in this were his visit to Dunrobin
and a lecture on behalf behalf of the Celtic Chair, delivered at Inverness.
The Duke of Sutherland
[he wrote from Dunrobin] is a remarkable character, tall and big, but
with a careless broad swing about him; not the least like a lordly
English aristocrat, lie is quite natural, easy, and affable in his
manners, with a sort of indifference, however, that kills all airs and
allays all apprehensions. He is not at all brilliant in conversation,
but has a great amount of good sense and good humour, and has seen and
tried a great number of things in a practical way. He is at present
engrossed with gigantic agricultural improvements, with working a
coal-mine, and with manufacturing bricks! He takes me all over his
property, and lets me see what is being done, and keeps an eye on that
is going on. I forgot to say that he is breeding salmon also on a grand
scale, nursing the young fry as carefully as we do delicate children,
and having a nursery for them that holds not less than a million in
their earliest and smallest stage.
While at Inveraray, he had
spoken to the Duke and Duchess of Argyll about the Celtic Chair, and had
received from them hearty encouragement in his effort "to stir Highland
blood." In the north he continued to proclaim the cause, and held at
Inverness the first public meeting on its behalf. Its success, and that of
another at Glasgow towards the close of the year, decided him to undertake
the work systematically, and he accepted the arduous post of collector
pressed upon him by his Free Church friends. |
