In this year, a small volume was printed and published by Andro Hart of Edinburgh, under the title of Mirifici Logarithmorum Canonis Descriptio, &c., Auctore et Inventore Joanne Napero, Barone Merchistonii, Scoto. This was a remarkable event in the midst of so many traits of barbarism, bigotry, and ignorance; for in Napier’s volume was presented a mode of calculation forming an essential pre-requisite to the solution of all the great problems involving numbers which have since been brought before mankind.
John Napier is believed to have been engaged in the elaboration of his Logarithms for fully twenty years, while at the same time giving some of his time to such inventions as burning-glasses for the destruction of fleets, to theological discussions, and the occult sciences. The tall, antique tower of Merchiston, in which he lived and pursued his studies, still exists at the head of the Burgh-moor of Edinburgh.
1614
Napier’s little book was published in an English translation by Henry Briggs of Oxford, the greatest mathematician of his day in England. The admiration of Briggs for the person of Napier was testified in the summer of 1615 by his paying a visit to Scotland, in order to see him. Of this rencontre there is a curious and interesting account preserved by William Lilly in his Life and Times. ‘I will acquaint you,’ says he, ‘with one memorable story related unto me by John Marr, an excellent mathematician and geometrician, whom I conceive you remember. He was a servant to King James I. and Charles I. When Merchiston first published his Logarithms, Mr Briggs, then reader of the astronomy lectures at Gresham College in London, was so surprised with admiration of them, that he could have no quietness in himself until he had seen that noble person whose only invention they were. He acquaints John Marr therewith, who went in[to] Scotland before Mr Briggs, purposely to be there when these two so learned persons should meet. Mr Briggs appoints a certain day when to meet at Edinburgh; but failing thereof, Merchiston was fearful he would not come. It happened one day, as John Marr and Lord Napier were speaking of Mr Briggs, “Oh! John,” saith Merchiston, “Mr Briggs will not come now.” At the very instant, one knocks at the gate. John Marr hasted down, and it proved to be Mr Briggs, to his great contentment. He brings Mr Briggs into my lord’s chamber, where almost one quarter of an hour was spent, each beholding other with admiration, before one word was spoken. At last Mr Briggs began: “My lord, I have undertaken this long journey purposely to see your person, and to know by what engine of wit or ingenuity you came first to think of this most excellent help unto astronomy—namely, the Logarithms; but, my lord, being by you found out, I wonder nobody else found it out before, when, now being known, it appears so easy.” He was nobly entertained by the Lord Napier; and every summer after that, during the laird’s being alive, this venerable man went purposely to Scotland to visit him.’
As Napier (whom Lilly erroneously calls lord) died in April 1617, Mr Briggs could not have made more than one other summer pilgrimage to Merchiston.
Died John M‘Birnie, minister of St Nicolas’ Church, Aberdeen—a typical example of the more zealous and self-denying of the Presbyterian clergy of that age. A similar one of the next age says of M‘Birnie: ‘I heard Lady Culross say: “He was a godly, zealous, and painful preacher; and that he used always, when he rode, to have two Bibles hanging at a leather girdle about his middle, the one original, the other English; as also, a little sand-glass in a brazen case: and being alone, he read, or meditated, or prayed; and if any company were with him, he would read or speak from the Word to them.”... When he died, he called his wife, and told her he had no outward means to leave her, or his only daughter, but that he had got good assurance that the Lord would provide for them; and accordingly, the day he was buried, the magistrates of the town came to the house, after the burial, and brought two subscribed papers, one of a competent maintenance to his wife during her life, another of a provision for his daughter.’[352]
1615.
The latter part of the winter 1614-15 was of such severity as to be attended with several remarkable circumstances which were long remembered. In February, the Tay was frozen over so strongly as to admit of passage for both horse and man. ‘Upon Fasten’s E’en [February 21], there was twa puncheons of Bourdeaux wine carriet, sting and ling,[353] on men’s shoulders, on the ice, at the mids of the North Inch, the weight of the puncheon and the bearers, estimate to three score twelve stane weight.’ This state of things, however, was inconvenient for the ferrymen, ‘being thereby prejudgit of their commodity.’ So they, ‘in the night-time, brak the ice at the entry, and stayit the passage.’—Chron. Perth.