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DUNCAN'S tastes and habits
during the rest of his days at Droughsburn remained the very simplest. His
usual hour for rising was four o'clock in summer, and when he had a long
journey to go with a web, he would set out at three. In winter, he rose
about an hour later. His regular time for retiring was at seven, except when
he was visiting or plant-gathering, and then he was often late enough. When
he had friends calling on him, he sat up till nine. In the country, "early
to bed, early to rise " was and is the rule. How far it issued amongst the
people generally in the proverbial health, wealth, and wisdom is another
question; but it was certainly a salutary practice, with good results in the
order of statement. John's health was always very good, deflections being
rectified by Culpepper's aid ; his wealth, never great, was not only
sufficient for his modest wants but yielded a surplus for his relatives and
for his books; and his wisdom was certainly much greater than his neighbours
deemed or could appreciate.
He lived entirely in his
workshop, except when he went for his meals to the kitchen, the room next
his own. This was a comfortable apartment, with the usual capacious
fireplace, within which the children could sit, and was practically and
pleasantly furnished, like all thrifty Scotch country houses.
The Allanachs were highly
respectable, well-conducted, hard-working people. They brought up a large
family with credit, and were exemplary in their religious duties, holding
worship nightly at home and going regularly to church every Sunday.
Mr. Allanach was what would
now be called a contractor, employing others in the jobs he undertook
connected with all kinds of country work, such as harvesting, draining and
the like. His self-esteem was considerable, and he wished laudably to
achieve as good a social position as he could, which his want of financial
success greatly prevented. His style was what his neighbours thought high,
and it subjected him to consequent criticism. He was considerably inclined
to look down upon his simple tenant, the weaver. For John's habits and
studies, he had not the smallest predilection, and he did not take any pains
to try to understand the man. The result was that, though they sat at the
same table and lived in such close connection, their relations were never
very cordial. In Allanach's presence, John's retiring nature, which was all
his life keenly sensitive to chilliness and contempt and only opened out
under friendly warmth, was effectually frozen up. At best, there reigned
between them a slumbering armed neutrality.
The distance between them was
also increased by Allanach's treatment of Duncan's plants. John had a small
part of the garden railed off for his own use, in which he cultivated what
plants he pleased. In addition to this, during the nine years he had been
there before the Allanachs came, he was allowed the use of the flower
borders that ran on both sides of the walks. Allanach, a practical, business
man who despised all sentiment, wished to have the whole of the space
belonging to him devoted to such substantial growths as cabbages and
turnips, and turned out all John's plants. He might as well have plucked out
his eye or cut off his hand. The result was, of course, the irretrievable
extinction of all sympathy between them. Altogether, Duncan could scarcely
have lived with a man whose tastes were more unlike his own. Allanach was a
strong, dry, plain man who contemned all John's dearest pursuits as oddities
or weaknesses; and he was far too absorbed in his own occupations to feel or
trouble himself in any way with this want of sympathy between himself and
his tenant. To Duncan, their relations were fraught with no little pain and
unhappiness, though he would have been the last to confess the cause.
But the iciness of the
husband was more than made up by the geniality and warmth of the wife. She
was an excellent, hard-working woman and mother, whose disposition and
manner were bright, intelligent, and kindly. She appreciated and understood
the old weaver, and respected his knowledge and ability. By her hearty
motherliness and attention, she made his residence there comfortable, if not
homelike. As Allanach was necessarily much absent in connection with his
contracts, he seldom met the weaver except for a little in the evenings and
on Sundays. So that John could tolerate this crook in his lot, for the sake
of the kindliness of Mrs. Allanach; and thus, for nearly twenty years, he
continued to live there, till the death of Mr. Allanach in 1880, and his own
in 1881.
The result of this want of
rapport with Allanach was that John lived a greatly repressed life in the
house, kept himself more and more apart, and seldom or never blossomed out
at Droughsburn as he always did in more congenial society. With Mrs.
Allanach alone did he feel in any way at ease, or have any confidences; and
he would talk at meals for a little, chat for some time by the kitchen fire
after early supper, and occasionally read some of his books and show his
plants. In other houses in the valley of the Leochel, he was much more at
home, as at Mrs. Inverarity's at Droughsbridge, and Charles I3irse the
merchant's, who lived up the glen at Skuttery.
But nowhere was his silent
reserve more thawed and his heart more opened out than in the home of a
crofter who also lived at Droughsbridge. Mrs. Webster, the good genius
there, is a pleasant, couthy, warm-hearted little woman. She understood and
appreciated Duncan more than most of his neighbours, and possessed the
geniality and tact that won his confidence. Her husband is plain, practical,
hard-working, and kindly. To their cosy fireside, John came more frequently
than to any other in the neighbourhood. There he would read and talk for
hours together about current events, his wanderings and his plants, and
relate incidents in his past history confided to few. He would take the
children on his knee, and tell them stories of his mother and his own
childhood, which he seldom told to any. To Mrs. Webster, he came for many
years to get his hair cut, and even when they removed nearer to Alford, he
continued the old habit, in the notion that she alone could do it properly,
and that her kindly fingers were pleasanter than those of others. For this
bit of service, he brought his own comb and scissors, which he kept
carefully rolled and tied up in paper. He had a special and unvarying cut of
hair, by which it hung down equally all round over his brows, with very
little shed.
To the Websters', he also
used to go to read the newspapers, and talk over matters treated there. When
any place was mentioned they did not know, John would consult his atlas at
home and tell them about it at next visit, and sometimes bring down the book
to point it out. His conversation was chiefly about his varied experiences,
but a frequent topic was the history of Scotland, 'and especially of the
Covenanters and their sufferings. The effect of sympathy and kindly
appreciation on the reticent old man, so shy and distant with all but the
friendly, is proved by this one fact, that, from Mrs. Webster, the author
has learnt more of John's early days than from any other person about
Alford.
In his vigorous years at
Droughsburn, John kept his room, full to crowding though it was, neat and
well arranged; for he was scrupulously clean, and methodical in all he did,
having "a place for everything and everything in its place," if ever a man
had, and every corner was utilised. The extreme care he bestowed on all he
did and had, is shown by the excellent state in which his books, and
especially his frail and brittle plants, have been left. Some of the books
he preserved for more than sixty years, and many of the plants for above
forty, in spite of all their natural enemies in dust, moths, mice and rats,
all which were unusually abundant in that old thatched building, Indeed, the
preservation of his specimens was marvellous under the circumstances, and
proves a watchful care that is quite extraordinary.
He would allow no
interference with anything in his room, doing himself everything required
there, with his usual independence, making his own bed, dusting and cleaning
up, and performing other offices generally done by women. He greatly
objected to any intrusion, especially from children, who were naturally
attracted by the curiosities there, on account of the many valuable things
that lay in every corner, and he locked his door every time he went from
home.
The most of his books and
plants were kept in three large chests. The best of the books were carefully
wrapped and tied up in several folds of paper. All the chests and plants and
parcels were abundantly scented with camphor and dried native plants, such
as mint and woodruff, to preserve them from the insidious moth. The insides
of the chest lids were ornamented with pictures of various kinds, coloured
and plain, pasted on the wood. These contained, amongst others, portraits of
Queen Adelaide, William IV., Nicholas of Russia, Queen Mary, Queen Victoria,
Rob Roy, Young Normal, a Highland chieftain in full coloured costume, plates
of animals, and an old rude representation of Adam and Eve under the apple
tree, round which the wicked serpent twined, with a quotation from "Paradise
Lost" beneath.
Though John's care of his
books was so great, his desire to spread knowledge was greater, and he used
to lend them a good deal to his friends and the more intelligent of his
neighbours; for nothing gave him more pleasure than to discourse about the
subjects he studied with others, and assist them in prosecuting these in
every way in his power. To prevent the loss of the books he lent, he got a
small card printed at Netherton, which was pasted on each of them, and of
which this is a copy; but of its author I can find no clue, though others
then used the same:—
He always took pains to see
his books duly returned, and was not slack to remind any one when a book was
kept too long; doing so even with Charles Black.
Nothing illustrates the
remarkable solicitude he bestowed on all he possessed so well as the one
fact that he wore the same suits of clothes, already described, all which
were of his own weaving, for at least fifty years, and that they were
presentable even to the last, though much worn and out of date. He had two
suits with which he went out of doors, "a better and a worse," in addition
to his working dress; and during this long period, he never had any other
till after the subscription raised for him in his eighty-seventh year.
Besides two time-worn, tall dress hats —which were of the real old beaver,
with long hairy pile—he had two round, blue, flat "Tam o' Shanter " bonnets,
with great tassels on the top, which he wore in going about the house and on
less formal occasions. One of these bonnets was borrowed by the Alford
Mutual Improvement Society, to help in one of their dramatic entertainments.
When John received it back, he gave it a good brushing, according to his
wont, in presence of the member who returned it, although the man had
previously cleaned it, knowing the scrupulosity of its owner.
John went regularly to church
every Sunday, travelling four miles over the hill to the Free Church of
Cushnie, and nothing but storm kept him at home. He always left Droughsburn
in good time, to have leisure to visit or talk to a friend and pluck some of
his favourites by the wayside.
The Rev. George Williams and
his cousin, Dr. Williams of Tarland on the Dee, then lived with their
parents about a mile from church, and both recall the old man from their
early boyhood, with pleasant memories and great respect. Their homes were
frequently visited by John, and there he was much appreciated and hospitably
entertained. The children, glad to escape the over-restraints of sabbath
keeping as then observed in the strict country, made a point of setting out
very early for church to have a chat with the old botanist. They liked to
hear him talking about the plants, and to repeat their grand names after
him.
Though tight-laced on several
religious matters, John never thought it any desecration of the holy day to
admire, gather, and discourse of God's illuminated herbarium, spread open by
Him on that day as widely and beautifully as on other days—plainly and
attractively inviting to study, and chiding all condemnation of it. Hence
his ready and willing discourse to the boys about the flowers while going to
and returning from church.
With old George Williams, an
office-bearer, "who had a belief in the old botanist when others were
inclined to think him daft," he used also to talk about them before and
after service, though many of his narrower fellow-worshippers would most
likely have condemned both of them as sabbath-breakers for so doing. John
always took some of the wild flowers to church with him, which the boys used
to note with surprise were merely weeds, neither rare nor showy, but often
the very commonest. These he would spread out on the desk in front of him,
the Eyebright (Eupkrasia officinalis) being a special favourite. He did this
evidently for the simple joy of seeing them, "looking at them," as Dr.
Williams remarks, "just as other people look, and cannot help looking, at
those they love." And in all his worship, the flowers were ever present to
him, to brighten and inspire the sacred book and its glorious themes. One
Sunday, shortly after being licensed, young Williams preached in the church
of the village, from the text ( Matt. v. 45) "He maketh His sun to rise on
the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust."
John congratulated the young preacher after service, but added, "When ye ken
mair aboot floo'rs, ye'll be able to preach better upo' sick-like texts."
The boys used to be amused at
John's curious old-world attire on Sunday, which was "anything but gaudy."
They took special note of his dress hat, "useful, though not ornamental;"
his swallow-tail, navy-blue coat, "with its collar of most ample dimensions,
almost burying his neck, black neck-cloth and all;" his great shoes, with
their abundant protecting irons on the sole; and his immense umbrella, "a
kind of combined staff and tent," they thought, "which even such winds as
blow in upland Cushnie would with difficulty have turned inside out." In
church, he sat in the pew just in front of them, where they could study his
peculiarities with ease—and it is to be feared they attended more to him
than to the minister—noting, even the "cat's-teeth" stitches of his
home-made coat, as they showed themselves when he stood in prayer. They
were, however, impressed, even at that age, with his remarkable reverence
and attention during worship.
In reading, John's
short-sightedness caused him to hold the book almost close to his face, and
"even then he had to re-adjust his position afresh at the beginning of every
line. But what delighted us most," the doctor tells, "was that every Sunday,
just as the sermon was firmly caught between the heads and the application,
John handed us his snuff-box (the finely painted one he had got from Mr.
Beveridge in Tough). How kind we thought him! Taking snuff and its
consequent sneezing not being considered absolutely heterodox proceedings,
albeit held of doubtful propriety, John and we were allowed to repeat the
proceeding once every Sunday."
After service, the old man
was generally hospitably treated by some of his friends in the Howe of
Cushnie, and was thus strengthened for the four-mile walk home again. In
returning, he generally had some willing companions, for one or more of the
boys accompanied him to the top of the hill, to listen to his discourse
about the plants, old times and distant scenes, seasoned with good advice.
Solemn and scientific, dour
and distant, as he looked to many, John had, as we have seen, a secret fund
of jollity and humour. He derived the greatest pleasure, for example, from
keeping up the innocent old festivals of our 'ore-fathers, and took an
active and independent part in their celebration. He used to hold Halloween
in full form, both indoors and out, inviting his friends and especially the
children of the neighbourhood to assist him. He raised a great bonfire on
the top of the hill behind the house, keeping watch over it himself to
prevent its being kindled too soon by mischief-makers, who sometimes tried
to do so. He set it on fire in the gloaming, "making a bleeze," as it was
called, which was seen far and near, from its elevated central position; and
round it, he made the children join hands and dance hilariously, as in the
old days of Baal worship, while he blew a loud blast, from a horn he kept
for the purpose, which resounded over hill and dale. In the home ceremonies,
in which the whole assisted, he joined heartily in all that was done,
allowing himself, according to custom, to be led blindfolded to the "kail-yard,"
or cabbage garden, to pull a "kail-stock," the root stalk of the cabbage.
This was duly placed above the door of his shop, to determine his
matrimonial fate—the name of the first woman that entered showing that of
the expected future partner.
Again, at Yule, that is
Christmas, Old Style, on the 5th of January, he entered into all the merry
frolics of the time, and into the homely games in which both young and old
engaged, such as hide-and-seek, throwing dice for pins, and the like. He
also drank "sowens," and carried them to neighbouring houses to sprinkle
them on the doors, the. infliction being counted a dishonour, which they
tried to prevent by watching their gates with due care and endeavouring to
catch the invaders—his own door coming in for its share of the baptism along
with the rest.
On other occasions of general
gatherings at Droughsburn and the neighbourhood, John entered into all the
merriment and contributed his share, by both dancing and singing, and also
by playing "the trump" or Jew's-harp, a style of music which he still
cultivated; and this he carried on even in his old age. At these times, his
tastes were very abstemious; though he could "take a dram" with the rest, a
very little soon raising his hilarity.
In his advanced years, he
once went to a soire in. connection with the parish church of Alford, of
which Dr. Gillan was then minister, a man whom he had held in great respect
since he had known him in Tough. This shows that his opposition to the
Establishment had mellowed with age, as it did with even the fiercest
dissentients. He sang one of his old songs, new to folks there:
To the girl I lo'e I'll ever
prove true;
I'll ne'er wear a stain on my bonnet sae blue."
Though his voice was much
cracked by this time, his singing proved effective from the intelligent
heartiness with which the sentiments were rendered. His quaint appearance in
his ancient garments, with his staff in his hand as he sang, is still
recalled by those that heard him. |
