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DR. ROBERTSON having
come to London at this time to offer his History of Scotland for
sale, where he had never been before, we went to see the lions
together, and had for the most part the same acquaintance. Dr.
William Pitcairn, a very respectable physician in the city, and a
great friend of Dr. Dickson's, was a cousin of Dr. Robertson's,
whose mother was a Pitcairn; we became very intimate with him. Drs.
Armstrong and Orme were also of their society. Pitcairn was a very
handsome man, a little turned of fifty, of a very gentlemanly
address. When he settled first in London he was patronised by an
Alderman Behn, who, being a Jacobite, and not doubting that Pitcairn
was of the same side, as he had travelled with Duke Hamilton, he set
him up as a candidate for Bartholomew's Hospital. During the canvass
the Alderman came to the Doctor, and asked him with impatient heat
if it was true that he was the son of a Presbyterian minister in
Scotland, [His father was the Rev. David Pitcairn, minister of
Dysart. A ward in St. Bartholomew's Hospital is named after Dr.
Pitcairn.] which Pitcairn not being able to deny, the other conjured
him to conceal that circumstance like murder, otherwise it would
infallibly blow them up. He was elected physician to that hospital,
and soon rose to great business in the city.
Dr. Pitcairn was a
bachelor, and lived handsomely, but chiefly entertained young Scotch
physicians who had no establishment. Of those, Drs. Armstrong and
Dickson were much with him. As our connections drew Robertson and me
frequently to the city before my sister's house was ready, by
earnest invitation we both took up our lodging at his house. We
never saw our landlord in the morning, for he went to the hospital
before eight o'clock ; but his housekeeper had orders to ask us at
breakfast if we intended to dine there, and to tell us when her
master was expected. The Doctor always returned from his round of
visits before three, which was his hour of dinner, and quite happy
if he found us there. Exactly at five his chariot came to the door
to carry him out on his afternoon visits. We sat as long as we liked
at table, and drunk excellent claret. He returned soon after eight
o'clock; if he found his company still together, which was sometimes
the case, he was highly pleased. He immediately entered into our
humour, ate a bit of cold meat, drank a little wine, and went to bed
before ten o'clock. This was a very uncommon strain of hospitality,
which, I am glad to record, on repeated trials, never was exhausted.
He lived on in the same manner till 1782, when he was past eighty;
and when I was in London for the last time, he was then perfectly
entire, and made his morning tour on foot. I dined once with him at
that period in his own house with a large company of ladies and
gentlemen, and at Dr. Hamilton's, his cousin, of St. Martin's
Church, on both of which occasions he was remarkably gay. He
survived for a year or two longer. Dr. David Pitcairn, the son of
his brother the major, who was killed early in the American
rebellion, was heir both of his fortune and professional merit.
With Robertson and
Home in London I passed the time very agreeably; for though Home was
now entirely at the command of Lord Bute, whose nod made him break
every engagement—for it was not given above an hour or two before
dinner—yet as he was sometimes at liberty when the noble lord was to
dine abroad, like a horse loosened from his stake, he was more
sportful than usual. We had Sir David Kinloch likewise, who had come
to consult physicians, and Dr. CharlesCongalton, who was his
attendant. With them we met often at the British. Charles was my old
companion, and a more naif and ingenuous soul never was born. I said
to him one day, "Charlie, how do you like the English, now that you
have seen them twice for two or three months?" "I cannot answer your
question," replied he, "for I am not acquainted with any of them."
"What! not acquainted!" said I. "Yes," says he, "I have seen
half-a-dozen of them calling on Sir David, but I never enter into
conversation with the John Bulls, for, to tell you the truth, I
don't yet well understand what they say."
The first William
Pitt had at this time risen to the zenith of his glory, when
Robertson and I, after frequent attempts to hear him speak, when
there was nothing passing in the House that called him, we at last
heard a debate on the Habeas Corpus Act, which Pitt had new modelled
in order to throw a slur on Lord Mansfield, who had taken some
liberties, it was alleged, with that law, which made him unpopular.
We accordingly took our places in the gallery, and for the first
three hours were much disposed to sleep by the dull tedious speeches
of two or three lawyers, till at last the Attorney-General,
afterwards Lord Camden, rose and spoke with clearness, argument, and
eloquence. He was answered ably by Mr. Yorke, Solicitor-General. Dr.
Hay, the King's Advocate in Doctors' Commons, spoke next, with a
clearness, a force, and brevity, which pleased us much. At length
Mr. Pitt rose, and with that commanding eloquence in which he
excelled, he spoke for half an hour, with an overpowering force of
persuasion more than the clear conviction of argument. He was
opposed by several speakers, to none of whom he vouchsafed to make
an answer, but to James Oswald of Dunnikier, who was a very able
man, though not an eloquent speaker. With all our admiration of
Pitt's eloquence, which was surely of the highest order, Robertson
and I felt the same sentiment, which was the desire to resist a
tyrant, who, like a domineering schoolmaster, kept his boys in order
by raising their fears without wasting argument upon them. This
haughty manner is necessary, perhaps, in every leader of the House
of Commons; for when he is civil and condescending, he soon loses
his authority, and is trampled upon. Is this common to all political
assemblies? or is it only a part of the character of the English in
all ordinary political affairs, till they are heated by faction or
alarmed by danger, to yield to the statesman who is most assuming?
Sir Gilbert Elliot of
Minto was at this time one of the Lords of the Admiralty, and we
were frequently with him. He was a very accomplished and sensible
man, and John Home had not found him a cold friend, as he was
supposed to be, for by his means chiefly lie had been put under the
protection of Lord Bute, a favour which John did not coldly return ;
for, on the accession of the Prince of Wales, Home, who was then in
full confidence with his lordship, recommended the baronet most
effectually to him,—a clear proof of which I saw in a letter from
Lord Bute to Home.
Dr. John Blair, who,
on account of a certain petulant and wrangling humour, was disliked
by many people, particularly by Smollett, in spite of Bob Smith's
intimacy with both, had been put about the Duke of York as his
mathematical teacher, and was afterwards his secretary ; he also had
been recommended to that situation by Sir Gilbert Elliot through
Home, and was not ungrateful. Blair was a good-natured pleasant
fellow, and very agreeable to everybody who could bear his flippancy
of speech. He was, indeed, one of the most friendly men in the
world, as he showed in many instances, from purchasing a pair of
shoes and stockings for any of his old companions, to providing them
a settlement for life. He got to be a prebendary in Westminster by
the interest of the Duke of York; and, had his Royal Highness lived,
would have been promoted to the bench of bishops. He was senior to
J. Home and me, but we were well acquainted at college. He died of
the influenza in 1782.
John Douglas, [Son of
a merchant of Pittenweem, Fifeshire, and grandson of the Episcopal
Church clergyman who succeeded Bishop Burnet at Saltoun, East
Lothian. John Douglas was educated at Dunbar and passed to Oxford
where he was a contemporary of Adam Smith.] who has for some time
been Bishop of Salisbury, and who is one of the most able and
learned men on that bench, had at this time but small preferment. He
had been tutor to Lord Pulteney, and was at this time secretary to
Lord Bath, and lived with him, by which means he had acquired a very
exact knowledge of the Court, as well as of both Houses of
Parliament, and all their connections. I became acquainted with him
at this time, and preserved my connection with him, which I valued
much, by sundry meetings and frequent correspondence. He is still
living, though two years older than me, and much weakened by the
gout. His sister, Mrs. Anderson, who at this time kept the British
Coffeehouse, was, like her brother, a person of superior character.
[In Wodrow's letters we read that the son of the Archbishop of St.
Andrews (Bishop of Argyll and Glasgow), who died in 1704, was master
of the Beau's Coffeehouse in Edinburgh.]
Robertson had never
seen Smollett, and was very desirous of his acquaintance. By this
time the Doctor had retired to Chelsea, and came seldom to town.
Home and I, however, found that he came once a-week to Forrest's
Coffeehouse, and sometimes dined there; so we managed an appointment
with him on his day, when he agreed to dine with us. He was now
become a great man, and being much of a humorist, was not to be put
out of his way. Home and Robertson and Smith and I met him there,
when he had several of his minions about him, to whom he prescribed
tasks of translation, compilation, or abridgment, which, after he
had seen, lie recommended to the booksellers. We dined together, and
Smollett was very brilliant. Having to stay all night, that we might
spend the evening together, he only begged leave to withdraw for an
hour, that he might give audience to his myrmidons; we insisted
that, if his business [permitted], it should be in the room where we
sat. The Doctor agreed, and the authors were introduced, to the
number of five, I think, most of whom were soon dismissed. He kept
two, however, to supper, whispering to us that he believed they
would amuse us, which they certainly did, for they were curious
characters.
We passed a very
pleasant and joyful evening. When we broke up, Robertson expressed
great surprise at the polished and agreeable manners and the great
urbanity of his conversation. He had imagined that a man's manners
must bear a likeness to his books, and as Smollett had described so
well the characters of ruffians and profligates, that he must, of
course, resemble them. This was not the first instance we had of the
rawness, in respect of the world, that still blunted our sagacious
friend's observations.
As Ferguson had one
day in the week when he could be in town, we established a club at a
coffeehouse in Saville Row or Sackville Street, where we could meet
him at dinner, which we did every Wednesday at three o'clock. There
were J. Home, and Robertson, and Wedderburn, and Jack Dalrymple, and
Bob Adam, Ferguson, and myself. Wedderburn brought with him an
attorney of the name of Dagg, a little odd-looking silent fellow to
be sure, whom none of us had ever seen before, and about whom
Wedderburn had not condescended to explain himself. Somebody was
appointed to talk to him, and to express the uneasiness of the club
at his bringing an utter stranger among them. His answer was, that
Dagg was a very important friend of his, who was extremely desirous
to meet that company, and that he would answer for his silence and
discretion. He added that he prayed the club to admit him, for he
learned more from him of the forms of English law, in his walk from
and return to the Temple, than he could do by a week's reading. This
excuse was admitted, though some of us thought it a lame one, and
that it smelt of an assumed superiority that we did not admit of. As
Ferguson rode back to Harrow, we always parted between five and six
o'clock; and it will hardly be now believed that our reckoning never
exceeded 5s. a-piece. We had a very good dinner, and plenty of
punch, etc., though no claret, for that sum.
Having met, we
generally went that night to Drury Lane Theatre, Garrick being in
town. I had frequent opportunities of being in company with this
celebrated actor, of whom Mr. Home was now in full possession,
though he had rejected his tragedy of Douglas as totally unfit for
the stage. I am afraid it was not his own more mature judgment that
brought him round, but his idolatry to the rising sun, for he had
observed what a hold Home had got of Lord Bute, and, by his means,
of the Prince of `ales. As Garrick's vanity and interestedness had
made him digest the mortification of seeing Douglas already become
the most popular play on the stage, so John Home's facility, and the
hopes of getting him to play in his future tragedies, made him
forgive Garrick's former want of taste and judgment, and they were
now become the greatest friends in the world. If anything had been
wanting to complete Garrick's conquest of Home, it was making choice
of him as his second in a quarrel he had with Calcraft (for John was
very heroic), which never came to a duel, as well as several other
quarrels of the same kind, and with the same issue, in which John
was chosen second.
Garrick, though not
of an understanding of the first, nor of the highest cultivated
mind, had great vivacity and quickness, and was very entertaining
company. Though vanity was his prominent feature, and a troublesome
and watchful jealousy the constant visible guard of his reputation
to a ridiculous degree, yet his desire to oblige, his want of
arrogance, and the delicacy of his mimicry, made him very agreeable.
He had no affected reserve, but, on the least hint, would start up
at any time and give the company one of his best speeches. As
Garrick had been in Dublin when I was in London in 1746, I
assiduously attended him at this time, and saw him in all his
principal parts, both in tragedy and comedy. He used to say himself,
that he was more at home in comedy than in tragedy, and I was of his
opinion. I thought I could conceive something more perfect in
tragedy, but in comedy he completely filled up my ideas of
perfection. There may be a deception in this, for every
well-educated person has formed to himself some idea of the
characters, both in ancient and modern tragedy, and if the actor
falls short of that, he is thought to be deficient in judgment :
whereas comedy being an imitation of living manners, as they rise in
succession among inferior orders of men, the spectator can have
formed no rule or standard of judgment previous to the
representation, but must accept of the picture the actor gives him,
and must approve of it, if it is lively, though it should not be
true.
Garrick was so
friendly to John Home that he gave a dinner to his friends and
companions at his house at Hampton, which he did but seldom. He had
told us to bring golf clubs and balls that we might play at that
game on Molesly Hurst. We accordingly set out in good time, six of
us in a landau. As we passed through Kensington, the Coldstream
regiment were changing guard, and, on seeing our clubs, they gave us
three cheers in honour of a diversion peculiar to Scotland ; so much
does the remembrance of one's native country dilate the heart, when
one has been some time absent. The same sentiment made us open our
purses, and give our countrymen wherewithal to drink the "Land o'
Cakes." Garrick met us by the way, so impatient lie seemed to be for
his company. There were John Home, and Robertson, and Wedderburn,
[Afterwards Lord Loughborough, first Earl of Roslyn.] and Robert and
James Adam, and Colonel David Wedderburn, [Second son of Peter
Wedderburn, Lord Chesterhall, and younger brother of Lord Chancellor
Loughborough.] who was killed when commander of the army in Bombay,
in the year [i773]. He was held by his companions to be in every
respect as clever and able a man as his elder brother the
Chancellor, with a much more gay, popular, and social temper.
Immediately after we
arrived, we crossed the river to the golfing-ground, which was very
good. None of the company could play but John Home and myself, and
Parson Black from Aberdeen, who, being chaplain to a regiment during
some of the Duke of Cumberland's campaigns, had been pointed out to
his Royal Highness as a proper person to teach him the game of chess
: the Duke was such an apt scholar that he never lost a game after
the first day; and he recompensed Black for having beat him so
cruelly, by procuring for him the living of Hampton, which is a good
one. We returned and dined sumptuously, Mrs. Garrick, the only lady,
now grown fat, though still very lively, being a woman of uncommon
good sense, and now mistress of English, was in all respects most
agreeable company. [When a widow, Mrs. Garrick had twice the offer
of marriage from Lord Monboddo during one of his lordship's
periodical visits to London.—WALPOLE.] She did not seem at all to
recognise me, which was no wonder, at the end of twelve years,
having thrown away my bag-wig and sword, and appearing in my own
grisly hairs, and in parson's clothes; nor was I likely to remind
her of her former state.
Garrick had built a
handsome temple with a statue of Shakespeare in it, in his lower
garden, on the banks of the Thames, which was separated from the
upper one by a high-road, under which there was an archway which
united the two gardens. Garrick, in compliment to Home, had ordered
the wine to be carried to this temple, where we were to drink it
under the shade of the copy of that statue to which Home had
addressed his pathetic verses on the rejection of his play. The poet
and the actor were equally gay, and well pleased with each other, on
this occasion, with much respect on the one hand, and a total
oblivion of animosity on the other; for vanity is a passion that is
easy to be entreated, and unites freely with all the best
affections. Having observed a green mount in the garden, opposite
the archway, I said to our landlord, that while the servants were
preparing the collation in the temple I would surprise him with a
stroke at the golf, as I should drive a ball through his archway
into the Thames once in three strokes. I had measured the distance
with my eye in walking about the garden, and accordingly, at the
second stroke, made the ball alight in the mouth of the gateway, and
roll down the green slope into the river. This was so dexterous that
he was quite surprised, and begged the club of me by which such a
feat had been performed. We passed a very agreeable afternoon; and
it is hard to say which were happier, the landlord and landlady, or
the guests.
There was a club in
London where Robertson and I never failed to attend, as we were
adopted members while we stayed in town. It was held once a week in
the British Coffeehouse, at eight in the evening; the members were
Scotch physicians from the city and Court end of the town. Of the
first set were Pitcairn, Armstrong, Orme, and Dickson; of the second
were William Hunter, Clephan, Mr Graham of Pall Mall, etc.—all of
them very agreeable men; Clephan especially was one of the most
sensible, learned, and judicious men I ever knew—an admirable
classical scholar and a fine historian. He often led the
conversation, but it was with an air of modesty and deference to the
company, which added to the weight of all he said. Hunter was gay
and lively to the last degree, and often came in to us at nine
o'clock fatigued and jaded. He had had no dinner, but supped on a
couple of eggs, and drank his glass of claret; for though we were a
punch club, we allowed him a bottle of what he liked best. He repaid
us with the brilliancy of his conversation. His toast was "May no
English nobleman venture out of the world without a Scottish
physician, as I am sure there are none who venture in." He was a
famous lecturer on anatomy. Robertson and I expressed a wish to be
admitted one day. He appointed us a day, and gave us one of the most
elegant, clear, and brilliant lectures on the eye that any of us had
ever heard. One instance I must set down of the fallacy of medical
prediction—it was this: Dr. Hunter, by his attendance on Lady Esther
Pitt, had frequent opportunities of seeing the great orator when he
was ill of the gout, and thought so ill of his constitution that he
said more than once to us, with deep regret, that he did not think
the great man's life worth two years' purchase ; and yet Mr. Pitt
lived for twenty years, for he did not give way to fate till 1778.
As soon as my sister
got into her house in a court in Aldermansbury, Dr. Dickson and she
gave a dinner to my friends, with two or three of his. There were
Doctors Pitcairn, Armstrong, Smollett, and Orme, together with Dr.
Robertson, John Blair, Home and myself. We passed an exceedingly
pleasant day, although Smollett had given Armstrong a staggering
blow at the beginning of dinner, by asking him some questions about
his nose, which was still patched, on account of his having run it
through the side-glass of his chariot when somebody came up to speak
to him. Armstrong was naturally glumpy, and this, I was afraid,
would have silenced him all day, which it might, had not Smollett
called him familiarly John soon after his joke on his nose ; but he
knew that Smollett loved and respected him, and soon recovered his
good-humour, and became brilliant. My sister, who had one lady with
her—one of Pitcairn's nieces, I believe—was happy and agreeable, and
highly pleasing to her guests, who confessed they had seldom seen
such a superior woman.
There was a friend of
Dickson's, a Mr. Jackson, a Dumfries man and an Irish factor, as
they are called, who was a great humorist, who, though he had no
carriage, kept six hunting-horses. This man offered to mount us on
his horses, and go with us to Windsor. After a breakfast-dinner at
his partner's, we set out on the 16th day of April, the warmest that
had been that season. As the great road was very disagreeable,
Jackson, who knew the environs of London better than most people, as
he belonged to a hunt, took us through green lanes as soon as he
could, and, giving us a little wine and water when he pleased, which
was, he said, whenever he came to good port, he landed us at Staines
Bridge, in a very good inn across the bridge. His servant, who rode
an unruly horse, had been thrown from him half an hour before we
reached Staines. He was very much hurt about the head, and with
difficulty we brought him along at a slow pace. When we arrived,
Jackson sent immediately for the nearest surgeon, who was a Mr.
Green. This man examined the servant, and found he was not
dangerously hurt, and Jackson invited him to stay supper, which he
did, and turned out a very sensible conversible man. He spoke
English so well that we could not have detected him to be a
Scotch-man, far less an Aberdeensman, which he was; but he had gone
very young into the navy as surgeon's-mate, and had entirely lost
his mother tongue—almost the only instance I ever knew of any one
from that shire. There was a poor Scotch Presbyterian, who had a
very small living; Jackson had a small present of two guineas to
give him, for the humorist was not ungenerous. He sent for him in
the morning, and promised him a sermon in his meeting-house, for it
was Sunday, and kept him to breakfast. I had been prepared to do
this duty, for Jackson and I slept in the same room, and he had
requested it as a favour, as he said the meeting and the audience
were very poor indeed. I was dressed, and went down to breakfast,
and was introduced to Mr. Coldstream. Soon afterwards came
Robertson, undressed, and with his night-cap on, and, being
introduced to Coldstream, took no further notice of him (not his
usual manner), and breakfasted in silence. When the minister took
his leave, he called Jackson aside, and said he hoped he remembered
he never employed any of the people called Methodists. This was
resolute in a man who had a wife and four children, and only £20
a-year, to a gentleman who had just made him a present of two
guineas. Jackson assured him that none of us were Methodists, but
that I was the person he had engaged to preach. I made Robertson's
being taken for a Methodist a lasting joke against him.
Wewentto the
meeting-house at the hour of eleven, the entry to which was over a
pretty large dunghill. Although the congregation was reinforced by
two officers of the Grey dragoons, and by a corporal and an
officer's man, with Jackson's man with his head bound up, with the
Doctor and Jackson and Coldstream and his wife, they amounted only
to twenty-three. There were two brothers, Scotchmen, clothiers, who
were there, who invited us to dinner. We repaired to them at one
o'clock, and after walking round their garden, and being much
delighted with two swans swimming in the Thames, whom they had
attached to them by kindness, we sat down to an excellent
citizen-like dinner, and drank some excellent port wine. Robertson
and I bespoke a piece of parson's grey cloth of their making, which
they sent to Scotland before us, and which turned out the best we
ever had. We divided it among our friends. Before five o'clock we
mounted our horses by order of our conductor, and rode to Windsor
Forest, where, in spite of the warm weather before, we found the
frost hard enough to bear our horses. We returned without going into
Windsor. Next day we went there time enough to see the castle and
all its curiosities, and to go down to Eton, after which we dined at
an inn and rode back to Staines, making a circuit round the great
park. Much to our satisfaction, we found Dr. Green waiting us, whom
Jackson had appointed to meet us.
Jackson wished us to
take a circuitous ride and see everything down the Thames to London;
but as we were engaged with a party of friends to dine at
Billingsgate on fish of the season, we took leave of Mr. Jackson,
and left him to come at his leisure, while we made the best of our
way down the Thames, and halted only at Richmond, where Robertson
had never been.
We arrived in time to
meet our friends at the Gun, where Dr. Dickson had provided a choice
dinner of all the varieties of fish then in season, at the moderate
price of twenty-five shillings, one crown of which was paid for
smelts. `\We were a company of fifteen or sixteen, whose names I
can't exactly remember, but when I say that there were Sir David
Kinloch, James Veitch (Lord Elliock), Sir Robert Keith, then only a
captain in the Scotch Dutch, Robertson, Home, etc., I need not say
that we were gay and jovial. An incident contributed not a little to
our mirth. Charles Congalton, who happened to sit next to Sir David,
our preses, it was observed, never filled above a thimbleful in his
glass, when being asked the reason, he said he could not drink any
of their London port, there was such a drawing-togetherness in it.
"Ring the bell, Charlie," said our preses, "and we will learn if we
can't get a bottle of claret for you." The bell was rung, the claret
came, and was pronounced very good by the Baronet and his doctor.
The whole company soon joined in that liquor, without which no
Scotch gentleman in those days could be exhilarated. Bob Keith sung
all his ludicrous songs, and repeated all his comic verses, and gave
us a foretaste of that delightful company which he continued to be
to the end of his days. His cousin, Charles Dalrymple, was only
behind him in humorous description and naive remark—as much only as
he was in age and the habits of company. Our reckoning by this
means, however, turned out, instead of five shillings and sixpence,
as Dickson had supposed, to be three times that sum. The Baronet and
Doctor were to set out in a few days to France, on their way to
Barege.
I shall here mention
an anecdote which struck me as a proof of the wonderful carelessness
of physicians. Supping one night with Duncan Forbes, Sir David, Lord
Elliock, and sundry physicians, while four of us were playing at
whist, Lord Elliock took up a book, and after reading a while called
out, "Sir David, here is your case, and a perfect cure for it, that
I find in this book." He then read an account of the great effect of
the waters of Barege, in the south of France, for such complaints as
the Baronet laboured under. "Have you heard of this before, Sir
David?" "No, never," answered he. "Is it new to the Faculty?" said
he to Armstrong, who was sitting near him. "No," replied the crusty
Doctor, "but we never thought of prescribing it, as we knew that he
was such a coward that lie would rather be damned by a fistula than
cross the Channel in a packet-boat, especially in time of a French
war." Sir David, having his pride irritated by this attack, did go
to Barege and completed a cure which had been made by Dr. Ward.
As I had been
introduced to the Duke of Argyle in the autumn before in Scotland, I
went sometimes to his evening parties, which were very pleasant. He
let in certain friends every night about seven o'clock, when, after
tea and coffee, there were parties at sixpenny whist, his Grace
never playing higher. About nine there was a sideboard of cold
victuals and wine, to which everybody resorted in his turn. There
was seldom or ever any drinking—never, indeed, but when some of his
favourite young men came in, such as Alexander Lord Eglinton,
William Lord Home, etc., when the old gentleman would rouse himself
and call for burgundy and champagne, and prolong the feast to a late
hour. In general the company parted at eleven. There could not be a
more rational way of passing the evening, for the Duke had a wide
range of knowledge, and was very open and communicative.
The Right Honourable
Charles Townshend, my old friend, had married Lady Dalkeith, the
Duke of Buccleuch's mother. Home, who was become intimate with him,
took me there one morning, after having told him I was in town, and
intended to call. He received me with open arms, and was perfectly
familiar, but not a hint of having seen me before. He held the same
demeanour to Jack Campbell, Lord Stonefield, who had married one of
Lord Bute's sisters; and in spite of our intimacy afterwards in
Scotland, he never made the most distant allusion to anything that
had happened at Leyden. The Duke of Buccleuch, and his brother
Campbell Scott, were in town for the Easter holidays. Mr. Scott was
much handsomer and more forward than the Duke, who was at a table in
the room where there were some books. The young Duke, then not
twelve years of age, was turning over the leaves of a book. "Come
along, Duke," says Charles—"I see what you would be at, silent as
you are; show the gentleman that dedication you are so fond of." The
Duke slipt down the book on the table, and blushed to the eyes,
retiring a step or two from it. I took up the book, and soon saw it
was Barclay the schoolmaster's Latin Grammar, which he had dedicated
to his patron. "The Duke," says I, "need not be ashamed of this
dedication, for the author of it is one of the best schoolmasters
and grammarians of any in Scotland, and has brought the school at
Dalkeith to its former name and lustre." This reassured the young
man, and he smiled with some satisfaction. Little did I think at
that time that I should live to see his grace the most respected and
the most deservedly popular of any nobleman in Scotland. A few days
after this we dined with Mr. Townshend and the Countess, and one or
two gentlemen, but the boys had returned to school.
The clergy of
Scotland, being under apprehensions that the window-tax would be
extended to them, had given me in charge to state our case to some
of the ministers, and try to make an impression in our favour. Sir
Gilbert Elliot listened to me, and was friendly; Marchmont pretended
not to understand my statement, and was dry. But the only man who
really understood the business, and seemed ready to enter into it
with zeal was Jeremiah Dyson, [Dyson, although left considerable
wealth by his father, accepted a junior clerkship in the House of
Commons, and when the principal clerkship became vacant, paid £6000
for the position. It was customary then for the principal to appoint
a deputy and assistants and to recoup his payment from them. But
Dyson condemned the practice and appointed his subordinates without
exacting a fee. He resigned the clerkship and became a member of
Parliament, occupying several positions under different
governments.] who, having been a Dissenter, and two years at the
University of Edinburgh, and withal very acute, perfectly
comprehended my argument, and was willing to assist in procuring an
exemption. Without Robert Dundas, then Lord Advocate, nothing,
however, could be done. I waited on him, and was received in his
usual way, with frankness and familiarity enough; but he did not
think he could do anything, but deferred saying much about it till
some future day when he would have some friends with me to dinner,
and talk over the affair. This cold or rather haughty reception,
added to some very slighting or calumnious sayings of his, both
about Robertson and me, provoked us not a little, and revived the
resentment we felt at his unhandsome behaviour about the tragedy of
Douglas.
Our time drew near
for returning, which we were to do on horseback, and with that we
set about furnishing ourselves with horses. Home had his Piercy in
town, and James Adam (who was to be our companion) had one also, so
that Robertson and I only were to be provided, which we did without
loss of time. We had some inclination to be introduced to Lord Bute,
which John promised to do; and for Robert Adam also, who could
derive more benefit from it than any of us. Robert had been three
years in Italy, and, with a first-rate genius for his profession,
had seen and studied everything, and was in the highest esteem among
foreign artists. From the time of his return—viz. in February or
March 1758—may be dated a very remarkable improvement in building
and furniture, and even stoneware, in London and every part of
England. [It is scarcely necessary to say that the two Adams, so
often referred to, were the architects of the many public and
private buildings, of some of which an account will be found in
their work called The Works in Architecture of Robert and James
Adayn.- J.H.B.] As John put off the time of our introduction to his
great man, we yielded to a request of our friend Sir David Kinloch
to accompany him on a jaunt he wished to make to Portsmouth. Home
had signified his design to Lord Bute, who had agreed to his absence
for a few days; and having obtained a letter from Sir Gilbert
Elliot, then a Lord of the Admiralty, to Lieutenant Brett, clerk of
the cheque at Portsmouth, we set out, the Baronet and his doctor in
a chaise, and we three on horseback. As it was towards the end of
April, and the weather good, we had a very agreeable journey. We
were much pleased with the diversified beauty of the country, though
not a little surprised with the great extent of uncultivated heath
which we went through. We viewed with much pleasure and exultation
the solid foundation of the naval glory of Great Britain, in the
amazing extent and richness of the dockyards and warehouses, etc.,
and in the grandeur of her fleet in the harbour and in the Downs. It
appeared a new world to us, and our wonder had not ceased during all
the four days we remained there. We had good mutton and good wine
(claret) at the inn, and, above all, an additional companion, Mr.
Richard Oswald (he who had so much hand in the peace of Paris long
after), who was a man of great knowledge and ready conversation.
There was a fine fleet of ten ships of the line in the Downs, with
the Royal George at their head, all ready for sea, and one of our
great objects was to get on board that ship, which was always kept
in the highest order for the admittance of visitors. This short
voyage was proposed every night, but was put off daily, as a
landwind came on soon after breakfast. As we were only to stay one
day longer, Congalton and I in despair went in the evening to
Lieutenant Brett and stated our case to him. He said there was but
one remedy, which was for him to ask Sir David and us all to
breakfast next morning at eight; that his dockyard sloop, in which
he could sail to America, should be at hand and ready at nine, and
that we might get to the Royal George not above three miles off,
before the mackerel breeze sprung up.
This plan was
accordingly put in execution, but it being half-past nine before we
got on hoard, the breeze got up before we reached the fleet; and the
moment it arose, fear and sickness began to operate on our friends,
their countenances grew pale, and the poet grew very vociferous for
our immediate return. Our pilot, however, held on his course, and
assured them that there was not the smallest danger, and that the
moment they set their feet in the Royal George, their sickness would
leave them. Congalton and I were quite disconcerted, and did not
know what to do. Brett continued to assert that we might board with
the greatest case, and without the least danger; but as we
approached the ship their fears became so noisy and so unmanly that
Brett yielded, and said it would be better to sail round the ship
and return, lest the breeze should increase. Dr. Congalton and I
were much disappointed, as this was probably the only opportunity we
should have of seeing so fine a ship again.
We behoved to yield,
however, and, what was remarkable, the moment we set our heads
towards land their sickness entirely abated, and they got into
spirits—Robertson was the only one of them who had thrown up his
breakfast. When we arrived near the harbour, we overtook the
Ramilies, a ninety-gun ship just entering the port. Mr. Brett
proposed that we should go on board her, when we should see her
rigging completely manned, a sight that in some degree would
compensate our not seeing the Royal George. Our friends were
delighted with this proposal, and John Home exulted provokingly on
the superiority of the sight we were so fortunately going to have.
We had no sooner set foot on the deck than an officer came up to us,
bawling, "God preserve us! what has brought the Presbytery of
Edinburgh here? for, damn me, if there is not Willy Robertson,
Sandie Carlyle, and John Home come on board." This turned out to be
a Lieutenant Neilson, a cousin of Robertson, who knew us all, who
gave us a hearty welcome, and carried us to his cabin, and treated
us to white wine and salt beef.
The remainder of this
day we passed in seeing what we had omitted, particularly the Point
after it was dark, or rather towards midnight—a scene of wonder, and
even horror, to the civilised. Next day we took our departure, and
sleeping a night by the way, as we had done going down, we arrived
in London, and prepared in good earnest to set out on our journey
north. The day was at last appointed for our being introduced to the
great man, and we resolved among ourselves, that if he gave us an
invitation to dine with him on an early day, we would stay for it,
though contrary to our plan.
John Home's tragedy
of Agis had been acted this season with tolerably good success, for
it ran the nine nights, and the author made some hundreds by it.
Garrick had acted the part of Lysander, as he did a year or two
later that of Emilius in the Siege of Aquileia, which I think
superior in merit to Agis. I had undertaken to review this play for
the British Magazine (Smollett's), but had been indolent; and it now
cost me to sit up all night to write it, and I was obliged to give
it to the press blotted and interlined, —but they are accustomed to
decipher the most difficult hands.
The day came when we
were presented to Lord Bute, but our reception was so dry and cold
that when he asked when we were to go north, one of us said
to-morrow. He received us booted and spurred, which in those days
was a certain signal for going a-riding, and an apology for not
desiring us to sit down. We very soon took our leave, and no sooner
were we out of hearing, than Robert Adam, who was with us, fell
a-cursing and swearing. "What ! had he been presented to all the
princes in Italy and France, and most graciously received, to come
and be treated with such distance and pride by the youngest earl but
one in all Scotland?" They were better friends afterwards, and
Robert found him a kind patron, when his professional merit was made
known to him. When I was riding with Home in Hyde Park a week
before, trying the horse I bought, we met his lordship, to whom Home
then introduced me, and we rode together for half an hour, when I
had a very agreeable chat with his lordship; but he was a different
man when he received audience. To dismiss the subject, however, I
believe he was a very worthy and virtuous man—a man of taste, and a
good belles-lettres scholar, and that he trained up the prince in
true patriotic principles and a love of the constitution, though his
own mind was of the Tory cast, with a partiality to the family of
Stuart, of whom he believed he was descended. But he proved himself
unfit for the station he had assumed, being not versatile enough for
a prime minister; and, though personally brave, yet void of that
political firmness which is necessary to stand the storms of state.
The nobility and gentry of England had paid court to him with such
abject servility when the accession of his pupil drew near, and
immediately after it took place, that it was no wonder he should
behave to them with haughtiness and disdain, and with a spirit of
domination. As soon, however, as he was tried and known, and the
disappointed hopes of the courtiers had restored them to the
exercise of their manhood, he showed a wavering and uncertain
disposition, which discovered to them that he could be overthrown.
The misfortune of great men in such circumstances is, that they have
few or no personal friends on whose counsels they can rely. There
were two such about him, who enjoyed his confidence and favour, Sir
Harry Erskine [The second son of Sir John Erskine of Alva, who
succeeded to the baronetcy on the death of his elder brother Sir
Charles. Sir Harry was Deputy Quartermaster-General of the Forces
under his uncle General St. Clair. After his military service he
devoted himself to politics and literature. Because of his adhesion
to the Leicester House party he was dismissed the service by George
II., but restored by George III., who gave him the command of the
Royal Scots. He married Miss Wedderburn (see p. 425), sister of Lord
Chancellor Loughborough (Earl of Roslyn), and their eldest son
subsequently succeeded to the Earldom and property. Sir Harry has
been credited with the authorship of "In the Garb of Old Gaul," but
this is disputed.] and John Home. The first, I believe, was a truly
honest man, but his views were not extensive nor his talents great;
the second had better talents, but they were not at all adapted to
business. Besides ambition and pride to a high degree, Lord Bute had
an insatiable vanity, which nothing could allay but Home's incessant
flattery, which being ardent and sincere, and blind and incessant,
like that of a passionate lover, pleased the jealous and
supercilious mind of the Thane. He knew John to be a man of honour
and his friend, and though his discernment pointed out the excess of
John's praises, yet his ardour and sincerity made it all take place
on a temper and character made accessible by vanity. With respect to
John himself, his mind and manners had always been the same. He
flattered Lord Milton, and even Adam Ferguson and me, as much as he
did Lord Bute in the zenith of his power. What demonstrates the
artlessness and purity of John's mind was, that he never asked
anything for himself, though he had the undisputed ear of the Prime
Minister. Even those who envied John for the place of favour he
held, exclaimed against the chief for doing so little for the man of
his right hand; and John might have starved on a scanty pension (for
he was required to be in attendance in London for more than half the
year), had not Ferguson and I taken advantage of a vacancy of an
office in Scotland, and pressed Lord Milton to procure the Lord
Conservator's place for him, which more than doubled his income.
[The then sinecure office of Conservator of Scots Privileges at
Campvere.—J. H. B.] But though Home was careless of himself, he was
warm and active at all times for the interest of his friends, and
served a greater number of people effectually than it had been in
the power of any private man to do before, some few of whom proved
themselves not worthy of his friendship.
We now were to leave
London, and make all suitable preparations; and finding that there
was a horse at Donaldson's, at the Orange Tree Inn, which the owner
wished to have down to Edinburgh, we undertook to take him with us,
and hired a man to ride him and carry our baggage. As there were
four of us, we found one servant too few, to our great
inconveniency. As the Adams were a wonderfully loving family, and
their youngest brother James was going down with us, the rest of the
sisters and brothers would accompany us as far as Uxbridge (a very
needless ceremony, some of us thought) ; but since we were to be so
numerous my sister thought of joining the party. We passed a very
cheerful evening in spite of the melancholy parting we had in view.
We parted, however, next morning, and we made the best of our way to
Oxford, halting for an hour at Bulstrode, a seat of the Duke of
Portland's, where we viewed the park, the house, and the chapel,
which pleased us much, especially the last, which was ornamented in
true taste as a place of worship. The chapel, which is still met
with in many noblemen's houses in England, was a mark of the
residence of a great family, which was striking and agreeable. It
was here that we discovered the truth of what I had often heard,
that most of the head-gardeners of English noblemen were Scotch, for
on observing to this man that his pease seemed late on the 4th of
May, not being then fully in bloom, and that I was certain there
were sundry places which I knew in Scotland where they were further
advanced, he answered that he was bred in a place that I perhaps did
not know that answered this description. This was Newhaills, in my
own parish of Inveresk. This man, whose name I have forgot, if it
was not Robertson, was not only gardener but land-steward, and had
the charge of the whole park and of the estate around it;—such
advantage was there in having been taught writing, arithmetic, and
the mensuration of land, the rudiments of which were taught in many
of the country schools of Scotland. This man gave us a note to the
gardener at Blenheim, who, he told us, was our countryman, and would
furnish us with notes to the head-gardeners all the way down.
We arrived at Oxford
before dinner, and put up at the Angel Inn. Robertson and Adam, who
had never been there before, had everything to see ; Home and I had
been there before. John Douglas, who knew we were coming, was
passing trials for his degree of D.D., and that very day was in the
act of one of his wall-lectures, as they are called, for there is no
audience. At that university, it seems, the trial is strict when one
takes a Master's or Bachelor's, but slack when you come to the
Doctor's Degree; and vice versa at Cambridge. However that be, we
found Douglas sitting in a pulpit, in one of their chapels, with not
a soul to hear him but three old beggar-women, who came to try if
they might get some charity. On seeing us four enter the chapel, he
talked to us and wished us away, otherwise he would be obliged to
lecture. We would not go away, we answered, as we wished a specimen
of Oxford learning; on which he read two or three verses out of the
Greek Testament, and began to expound it in Latin. We listened for
five minutes, and then, telling where we were to dine, we left him
to walk about. Douglas came to dinner; and in the evening Messrs.
Foster and Vivian, of Baliol College, came to us to ask us to a
collation, to be given us by that society next day. They were
well-informed and liberal-minded men, but from them and their
conversation we learned that this was far from applying to the
generality of the university. We stayed all next day, and passed a
very agreeable evening at Baliol College, where several more Fellows
were assembled.
Next morning we set
out early for Woodstock, where we breakfasted, and went to see
Blenheim, a most magnificent park indeed. We narrowly inspected the
house and chapel, which, though much cried down by the Tory wits of
Queen Anne's reign, appeared to us very magnificent, and worthy of
the donors and of the occasion on which it was given. Our companion,
James Adam, had seen all the splendid palaces of Italy, and though
he did not say that Sir John Vanburgh's design was faultless, yet he
said it ill deserved the aspersions laid upon it, for he had seen
few palaces where there was more movement, as he called it, than in
Blenheim. The extent of the park and the beauty of the water (now a
sea almost, as I am told) struck us very much.
From Blenheim we made
the best of our way to Warwick, where, as we had been much heated,
and were very dusty, we threw off our boots, and washed and dressed
ourselves before we walked out. John Home would not put on his boots
again; but in clean stockings and shoes, when he was looking at
himself in the glass, and prancing about the room in a truly
poetical style, he turned short upon the boot-catch who had brought
in our clean boots, and finding the fellow staring at him with
seeming admiration, "And am not I a pretty fellow?" said John. "Ay,"
says he, "sir," with half a smile. "And who do you take me for? "
said John. "If you binna Jamy Dunlop the Scotch pedlar, I dinna ken
wha ye are; but your ways are very like his." This reply confounded
our friend not a little, and he looked still more foolish than
Robertson, when Jackson told at Staines that the Dissenting minister
took him for a Methodist.
Warwick we found to
be a very pleasant old town, finely situated, with a handsome old
church. The Castle of Warwick, the seat of the earl of that name,
with the park, was truly magnificent, and the priory on the way to
it, the seat of Mr. Wise, not unworthy of being viewed. We dined
here, and were rather late in getting to Birmingham, where a servant
of Mr. Garbett's lay in wait for us at the inn, and conducted us to
his house, without letting us enter it. This man, of singular worth
and very uncommon ability, with whom Robertson and I were intimately
acquainted in Scotland, had anxiously wished us to come his way,
with which we complied, not merely to see the wonders of the place,
but to gratify him. Six or seven years before this, Dr. Roebuck and
he had established a vitriol work at Prestonpans, which succeeded
well, and the profits of which encouraged them to undertake the
grand ironworks at Carron, which had commenced not long before.
Garbett, who was a man of sense and judgment, was much against that
great undertaking, as, independent of the profits of the vitriol
works, they had not £3000 of stock between them. But the ardent mind
of Roebuck carried Garbett away, and he yielded—giving up to his
superior genius for great undertakings the dictates of prudence and
his own sober judgment. Roebuck, having been bred in the medical
school of Edinburgh, had science, and particularly the skill of
applying chemistry to the useful arts.
Ironworks were but
recent in Scotland, and Roebuck had visited them all, and every
station where they could be erected, and had found that Carron was
by far the best, which, if they did not occupy immediately, some
other company would, and they must remain in the background for
ever. This idea dazzled and overpowered the judicious mind of
Garbett, which had been contented with the limited project of
availing themselves of the populations of Musselburgh and Fisherrow,
and with the aid of Lord Milton, to whom I had introduced him, to
begin an ironwork on a small scale on the Magdalene Burn, and
introducing the manufactures of Birmingham at Fisherrow. This was
highly gratifying to Milton, who would have lent his credit, and
given the labours of his then active mind, to bring it to
perfection.
Samuel Garbett was
truly a very extraordinary man. He had been an ordinary worker in
brass at Birmingham, and had no education farther than writing and
accounts ; but he was a man of great acuteness of genius and extent
of understanding. He had been at first distinguished from the common
workmen by inventing some stamp for shortening labour. He was soon
taken notice of by a Mr. Hollis, a great merchant in London, who
employed him as his agent for purchasing Birmingham goods. This
brought him into notice and rank among his townsmen; and the more he
was known, the more he was esteemed. Let me observe once for all,
that I have known no person but one more of such strong and lively
feelings, of such a fair, candid, and honourable heart, and of such
quick and ardent conceptions, who still retained the power of cool
and deliberate judgment before execution. I had been much in his way
when he came first to Prestonpans about the year '51 or '52, and had
distinguished him and attracted his notice. He knew all the wise
methods of managing men, and was sensible that he could not expect
to have the most faithful workmen unless he consulted the minister.
To obtain this aid he paid all due respect to my father, and, though
of the Church of England, regularly attended the church, and indeed
made himself agreeable to the whole parish, high and low. Roebuck,
though a scholar and of an inventive genius, was vain and
inconstant, and an endless projector, so that the real executive and
managing power lay in Garbett.
He received us with
open hospitality, and we were soon convinced we were welcome by the
cordiality of his wife and daughter (afterwards Mrs. Gascoign), who
lodged the whole company but me, who, being their oldest
acquaintance, they took the liberty to send to a friend's house.
Hitherto they had lived in a very moderate style, but for his Scotch
friends Garbett had provided very good claret, and for the time we
stayed his table was excellent, though at that time they had only
one maid and a blind lad as servants. This last was a wonder, for he
did all the work of a man, and even brewed the ale, (but) that of
serving at table; and for this, Garbett [provided] according to the
custom of the place, where no man was then ashamed of frugality. He
made Patrick Downy, who was then an apprentice, stand at our backs.
Patrick afterwards married the maid, who was the mistress's cousin;
was sent down to Prestonpans as an overseer, and was at last taken
in as a partner : such was the primitive state of Birmingham and
other manufacturing towns, and such encouragement did they then give
to industry. Sed tandem luxuria incubuit. Few men have I ever
known who united together more of the prime qualities of head and
heart.
We passed the next
day after our arrival in visiting the manufactures at Birmingham,
though it was with difficulty I could persuade our poet to stay, by
suggesting to him how uncivil his sudden departure would appear to
our kind landlord. I got him, however, to go through the tedious
detail, till at last he said "that it seemed there as if God had
created man only for making buttons." Next morning, after breakfast,
Home set out for Admiral Smith's, his old friend, who, being a
natural son of Sir Thomas Lyttleton, had built himself a good house
in the village close by Hagley, the seat of Lord Lyttleton. We who
were left, passed the day in seeing what remained unseen at
Birmingham, particularly the Baskerville press, and Baskerville
himself, who was a great curiosity. His house was a quarter of a
mile from the town, and, in its way, handsome and elegant. What
struck us most was his first kitchen, which was most completely
furnished with everything that could be wanted, kept as clean and
bright as if it had come straight from the shop, for it was used,
and the fineness of the kitchen was a great point in the family; for
they received their company, and there were we entertained with
coffee and chocolate. Baskerville was on hands with his folio Bible
at this time, and Garbett insisted on being allowed to subscribe for
Home and Robertson. Home's absence afflicted him, for he had seen
and heard of the tragedy of Douglas. Robertson hitherto had no name,
and the printer said bluntly that he would rather have one
subscription to his work of a man like Mr. Home, than an hundred
ordinary men. He dined with us that day, and acquitted himself so
well that Robertson pronounced him a man of genius, while James Adam
and I thought him but a prating pedant.
On agreement with
John Home, we set out for Lord Lyttleton's, and were to take the
Leasowes, Shen-stone's place, in our way. Shenstone's was three or
four miles short of Lyttleton's. We called in there on our way, and
walked over all the grounds, which were finely laid out, and which
it is needless to describe. The want of water was obvious, but the
ornaments and mottoes, and names of the groves, were appropriate.
Garbett was with us, and we had [seen] most of the place before
Shenstone was dressed, who was going to dine with Admiral Smith. We
left one or two of the principal walks for him to show us. At the
end of a high walk, from whence we saw far into Gloster and Shrop
shires, I met with what struck me most,—that was an emaciated pale
young woman, evidently in the last stage of a consumption. She had a
most interesting appearance, with a little girl of nine or ten years
old, who had led her there. Shenstone went up and stood for some
time conversing with her, till we went to the end of the walk and
returned: on some of us taking an interest in her appearance, he
said she was a very sickly neighbour, to whom he had lent a key to
his walks, as she delighted in them, though now not able to use it
much. The most beautiful inscription he afterwards wrote to the
memory of Maria Dolman put me in mind of this young woman; but, if I
remember right, she was not the person. It is to me the most elegant
and interesting of all Shenstone's works.
We set all out for
Admiral Smith's, and had Mr. Shenstone to ride with us. His
appearance surprised me, for he was a large heavy fat man, dressed
in white clothes and silver lace, with his grey hairs tied behind
and much powdered, which, added to his shyness and reserve, was not
at first prepossessing. His reserve and melancholy (for I could not
call it pride) abated as we rode along, and by the time we left him
at the Admiral's, he became good company,—Garbett, who knew him
well, having whispered him, that though we had no great name, he
would find us not common men.
Lord Lyttleton's we
found superior to the description we had heard of it, and the day
being favourable, the prospect from the high ground, of more than
thirty miles of cultivated country, ending in the celebrated hill,
the Wrekin, delighted us much. On our return to the inn, where we
expected but an ordinary repast, we found a pressing invitation from
the Admiral to dine with him, which we could not resist. Though a
good deal disabled with the gout, he was kind and hospitable, and
received Garbett, who was backward to go, very civilly. We intended
to have rode back to Birmingham in the evening, but in the afternoon
there came on such a dreadful storm of thunder, accompanied with
incessant rain, as made the Admiral insist on our lodging all night
with him. With this we complied; but as he had no more than three
spare beds, James Adam and Garbett were to go to the inn. Finding an
interval of fair weather by eight o'clock, they rode to Birmingham,
as Garbett was obliged to be home.
After supper, the
Admiral made us a spacious bowl of punch with his own hand, a
composition on which he piqued himself not a little, and for which
John Home extolled him to the skies. This nectar circulated fast,
and with the usual effect of opening the hearts of the company, and
making them speak out. It was on this occasion that Home said to the
Admiral, that, knowing what he knew by conversing with him at Leith,
he was very much surprised when he recommended Byng to mercy.
[Admiral Smith, as senior flag officer, was President of the
Court-Martial of Byng at Portsmouth.] "You should have known, John,
that I could never all my life bear the idea of being accessory to
blood, and therefore I joined in this recommendation, though I knew
that by doing so I should run the risk of never more being
employed." This was a full confirmation of what John Home had said
at the time of the sea-fight (p. 323). This fine punch even unlocked
Shenstone's breast, who had hitherto been shy and reserved ; for
besides mixing freely in the conversation, he told Home apart, that
it was not so agreeable as he thought to live in the neighbourhood
and intimacy of Lord Lyttleton, for he had defects which the
benevolence of his general manners concealed, which made him often
wish that he had lived at an hundred miles' distance. When Home told
me this, I very easily conceived that the pride of a patron, joined
to the jealousy of a rival poet, must often produce effects that
might prove intolerable. We returned to Birmingham next morning,
and, with the most affectionate sense of the kindness of our
landlord and his. family, we set out on our journey north next
morning. I have forgot to mention that we supped the last night with
Dr. Roebuck, who, though a very clever and ingenious man, was far
behind our friend in some of the most respectable qualities.
We kept on through a
middle road by Lichfield and Burton-on-Trent, where we could get no
drinkable ale, though we threw ourselves there on purpose; and next
day, dining at Matlock, we were delighted with the fine ride we had
through a vale similar but of more amenity than any we had seen in
the highlands. We took the bath, too, which pleased and refreshed us
much, for the day was sultry. We went at night to Endsor Inn,
opposite Chatsworth, the Duke of Devonshire's fine house, which we
visited in the morning, with much admiration both of the structure,
ornaments, and situation. We ascended a wild moor, and got to
Sheffield to dinner, where, as we declined visiting a brother of Dr.
Roebuck's, on whom Garbett had given us a note of credit, we sent
his letter to him and went on. Next day we saw Rockingham or
Wentworth Castle in our way, and became satisfied with sights, so
that we turned no more off our road till we came to Ripon, where we
could not resist the desire of visiting Studley Park, then a great
object of curiosity to all people from our country, as it was then
the nearest fine place. Alnwick Castle had not then been repaired or
beautified. After we had left Sheffield, where we might have got
money, we discovered that we were like to run short, for Dr.
Robertson, unlike his usual prudence, had only but two guineas in
his pocket, trusting to the full purse of his cousin, James Adam,
who had taken no more than he computed would pay the fourth part of
our expense. Home and I had done the same. I was treasurer, and at
Leeds, I believe, I demanded a contribution, when it was found that,
by Robertson's deficiency and our purchasing some goods at
Birmingham with the common stock, I was sensible we would run out
before we came to Newcastle. This led us to inferior inns, which
cost us as dear for much inferior entertainment. We held out till we
passed Durham, which we did by keeping to the west of that city, and
saving two miles, having made our meal at [ ], which Home knew to be
a good house. From thence we might have got early into Newcastle,
had we not been seduced by a horse-race we met with near
Chester-le-Street. This we could not resist, as some of us had never
seen John Bull at his favourite amusement. There was a great crowd,
and the Mrs. and Misses Bull made a favourite part of the scene,
their equipages being single and double horses, sometimes triple,
and many of them ill mounted, and yet all of them with a keenness,
eagerness, violence of motion and loudness of vociferation, that
appeared like madness to us, for we thought them in extreme danger
by their crossing and just-ling in all directions at the full
gallop, and yet none of them fell. Having tired our horses with this
diversion, we were obliged to halt at an inn to give them a little
corn, for we had been four hours on horseback, and we had nine miles
to Newcastle. Besides corn to five horses and a bottle of porter to
our man Anthony, I had just two shillings remaining; but I could
only spare one of them, for we had turnpikes to pay, and so called
for a pint of port, which, mixed with a quart of water, made a good
drink for each of us. Our horses and their riders being both jaded,
it was ten o'clock before we arrived at Newcastle; there we got an
excellent supper, etc., and a good night's sleep. I sent for Jack
Widdrington when at breakfast, who immediately gave us what money we
wanted; and we, who had been so penurious for three days, became
suddenly extravagant. Adam bought a £20 horse, and the rest of us
what trinkets we thought we wanted—Robertson for his wife and
children at Gladsmuir, and Home and I for the children at Polwarth
manse. As we drew nearer home, our motion became accelerated and our
conversation duller : we had been in two parties, which were formed
about five or six miles from London; for having met with a cow, with
a piece of old flannel tied about one of her horns, pasturing on a
very wide lane on the road, Home and Robertson made a sudden tack to
the left, to be out of reach of this furious wild beast: I jeered
them, and asked of what they were afraid. They said a mad cow—did I
observe the warning given by cloth upon her horn? "Yes," says I,
"but that is only because her horn was hurt; did you not see how
quiet she was when I passed her?" Adam took my part, and the
controversy lasted all the way down, when we had nothing else to
talk of. There were so many diverting scenes occurred in the course
of our journey, that we often regretted since that we had not drawn
a journal of it. Our debates about trifles were infinitely amusing.
Our man Anthony was at once a source of much jangling and no small
amusement. He was never ready when we mounted, and went slowly on,
but he was generally half a mile behind us, and we had to halt when
we wanted anything. I had got a hickory stick from Jackson, not
worth 1s. 6d., which I would have left at the first stage had not
Home and Robertson insisted on my not doing it; but as I had less
baggage, and an equal right in Anthony and his horse, and was
treasurer withal, which they were afraid I would throw up, I carried
my point; and this stick being five feet long, and sometimes, by
lying across the clothes-bag, entangled with hedges, furnished him
with a ready excuse. It was very warm weather in May, and we rode in
the hottest of the day : we seldom got on horseback before ten
o'clock, for there was no getting Robertson and Home to bed, and
Jamie Adam would not get up, and had, besides, a very tedious
toilet. Our two friends wanted sometimes to go before us, but I
would not pay the bill till James and Anthony were both ready, and
till then the ostler would not draw or lead out the horses from the
stable. As I perceived that Robertson and Home were commenting on
all my actions, I, with the privacy of James Adam, did odd things on
purpose to astonish them : as, for instance, at the inn near Studley,
where we breakfasted, having felt my long hair intolerably warm
about my neck, I cut off five or six inches of a bit of ragged green
galloon that was hanging down from a chair-back in the room, with
which I tied my hair behind. This made a very motley appearance. But
when we came to take horse, in spite of the heat I appeared with my
greatcoat, and had fastened the cape of it round my head ; and in
this guise I rode through the town of Ripon, at the end of which I
disengaged myself from my greatcoat, and my friends saw the reason
of this masquerade. Another day, between twelve and one, riding
through very close hedges near Cornhill, we were all like to die of
heat, and were able only to walk our horses. I fell behind, pulled
my greatcoat from Anthony, put it on, and came up with my friends at
a hard trot. They then thought that I had certainly gone mad, but
they did not advert to it, that the chief oppression of heat is
before the perspiration. My receipt had relieved my frenzy, and I
reined in my horse till they came up to me. Soon after we left
Cornhill, we separated. Home and I stopped at Polwarth manse for a
night, and Robertson and Adam went on by Longformacus to Gladsmuir,
Robertson's abode. James Adam, though not so bold and superior an
artist as his brother Robert, was a well-informed and sensible man,
and furnished me with excellent conversation, as we generally rode
together. Thus ended a journey of eighteen days, which, on the
whole, had proved most amusing and satisfactory.
We got to our
respective abodes by the 22nd of May, and were in time for the
business week of the General Assembly, of which Robertson and I were
members, and where we came in time to assist in sending Dr. Blair to
the New Church, to which he had a right, and of which a sentence of
the Synod of Lothian and Tweeddale unjustly deprived him. This was
the only occasion on which he ever spoke in the General Assembly,
which he did remarkably well. |
