PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS

FROM EARLY LIFE TO OLD AGE

OF

MARY SOMERVILLE

WITH

Selections from her Correspondence.

BY HER DAUGHTER, MARTHA SOMERVILLE.

FIFTH THOUSAND.

LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET,
1874.

[The Right of Translation is reserved.]

WORKS BY MRS. SOMERVILLE.

THE MECHANISM OF THE HEAVENS. 8vo. 1831.

THE CONNECTION OF THE PHYSICAL SCIENCES. 9th Edition. Post 8vo. 9s. 1858.

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 6th Edition. Post 8vo. 9s. 1870.

MOLECULAR AND MICROSCOPIC SCIENCE. 2 vols. Post 8vo. 21s. 1869.

CONTENTS.

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS

OF

MARY SOMERVILLE.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTION—PARENTAGE—LIFE IN SCOTLAND IN THE LAST CENTURY—EARLY EDUCATION—SCHOOL.

The life of a woman entirely devoted to her family duties and to scientific pursuits affords little scope for a biography. There are in it neither stirring events nor brilliant deeds to record; and as my Mother was strongly averse to gossip, and to revelations of private life or of intimate correspondence, nothing of the kind will be found in the following pages. It has been only after very great hesitation, and on the recommendation of valued friends, who think that some account of so remarkable and beautiful a character cannot fail to interest the public, that I have resolved to publish some detached Recollections of past times, noted down by my mother during the last years of her life, together with a few letters from eminent men and women, referring almost exclusively to her scientific works. A still smaller number of her own letters have been added, either as illustrating her opinions on events she witnessed, or else as affording some slight idea of her simple and loving disposition.

Few thoughtful minds will read without emotion my mother's own account of the wonderful energy and indomitable perseverance by which, in her ardent thirst for knowledge, she overcame obstacles apparently insurmountable, at a time when women were well-nigh totally debarred from education; and the almost intuitive way in which she entered upon studies of which she had scarcely heard the names, living, as she did, among persons to whom they were utterly unknown, and who disapproved of her devotion to pursuits so different from those of ordinary young girls at the end of the last century, especially in Scotland, which was far more old-fashioned and primitive than England.

Nor is her simple account of her early days without interest, when, as a lonely child, she wandered by the seashore, and on the links of Burntisland, collecting shells and flowers; or spent the clear, cold nights at her window, watching the starlit heavens, whose mysteries she was destined one day to penetrate in all their profound and sublime laws, making clear to others that knowledge which she herself had acquired, at the cost of so hard a struggle.

It was not only in her childhood and youth that my mother's studies encountered disapproval. Not till she became a widow, had she perfect freedom to pursue them. The first person—indeed the only one in her early days—who encouraged her passion for learning was her uncle by marriage, afterwards her father-in-law, the Rev. Dr. Somerville, minister of Jedburgh, a man very much in advance of his century in liberality of thought on all subjects. He was one of the first to discern her rare qualities, and valued her as she deserved; while through life she retained the most grateful affection for him, and confided to him many doubts and difficulties on subjects of the highest importance. Nothing can be more erroneous than the statement, repeated in several obituary notices of my mother, that Mr. Greig (her first husband) aided her in her mathematical and other pursuits. Nearly the contrary was the case. Mr. Greig took no interest in science or literature, and possessed in full the prejudice against learned women which was common at that time. Only on her marriage with my father, my mother at last met with one who entirely sympathised with her, and warmly entered into all her ideas, encouraging her zeal for study to the utmost, and affording her every facility for it in his power. His love and admiration for her were unbounded; he frankly and willingly acknowledged her superiority to himself, and many of our friends can bear witness to the honest pride and gratification which he always testified in the fame and honours she attained.

No one can escape sorrow, and my mother, in the course of her long life, had her full share, but she bore it with that deep feeling of trust in the great goodness of God which formed so marked a feature in her character. She had a buoyant and hopeful spirit, and though her affections were very strong, and she felt keenly, it was ever her nature to turn from the shadows to all that is bright and beautiful in mortal life. She had much to make life pleasant in the great honours universally bestowed upon her; but she found far more in the devoted affection of friends, to say nothing of those whose happy lot it has been to live in close and loving intercourse with so noble and gentle a spirit.

She met with unbounded kindness from men of science of all countries, and most profound was her gratitude to them. Modest and unpretending to excess, nothing could be more generous than the unfeigned delight she shewed in recognising the genius and discoveries of others; ever jealous of their fame, and never of her own.

It is not uncommon to see persons who hold in youth opinions in advance of the age in which they live, but who at a certain period seem to crystallise, and lose the faculty of comprehending and accepting new ideas and theories; thus remaining at last as far behind, as they were once in advance of public opinion. Not so my mother, who was ever ready to hail joyfully any new idea or theory, and to give it honest attention, even if it were at variance with her former convictions. This quality she never lost, and it enabled her to sympathise with the younger generation of philosophers, as she had done with their predecessors, her own contemporaries.

Although her favourite pursuit, and the one for which she had decidedly most aptitude, was mathematics; yet there were few subjects in which she did not take interest, whether in science or literature, philosophy or politics. She was passionately fond of poetry, her especial favourites being Shakespeare and Dante, and also the great Greek dramatists, whose tragedies she read fluently in the original, being a good classical scholar. She was very fond of music, and devoted much time to it in her youth, and she painted from nature with considerable taste. The latter was, perhaps, the recreation in which she most delighted, from the opportunity it afforded her of contemplating the wonderful beauty of the world, which was a never-failing source of intense enjoyment to her, whether she watched the changing effects of light and shade on her favourite Roman Campagna, or gazed, enchanted, on the gorgeous sunsets on the bay of Naples, as she witnessed them from her much-loved Sorrento, where she passed the last summers of her life. All things fair were a joy to her—the flowers we brought her from our rambles, the sea-weeds, the wild birds she saw, all interested and pleased her. Everything in nature spoke to her of that great God who created all things, the grand and sublimely beautiful as well as the exquisite loveliness of minute objects. Above all, in the laws which science unveils step by step, she found ever renewed motives for the love and adoration of their Author and Sustainer. This fervour of religious feeling accompanied her through life, and very early she shook off all that was dark and narrow in the creed of her first instructors for a purer and a happier faith.

It would be almost incredible were I to describe how much my mother contrived to do in the course of the day. When my sister and I were small children, although busily engaged in writing for the press, she used to teach us for three hours every morning, besides managing her house carefully, reading the newspapers (for she always was a keen, and, I must add, a liberal politician), and the most important new books on all subjects, grave and gay. In addition to all this, she freely visited and received her friends. She was, indeed, very fond of society, and did not look for transcendent talent in those with whom she associated, although no one appreciated it more when she found it. Gay and cheerful company was a pleasant relaxation after a hard day's work. My mother never introduced scientific or learned subjects into general conversation. When they were brought forward by others, she talked simply and naturally about them, without the slightest pretension to superior knowledge. Finally, to complete the list of her accomplishments, I must add that she was a remarkably neat and skilful needlewoman. We still possess some elaborate specimens of her embroidery and lace-work.

Devoted and loving in all the relations of life, my mother was ever forgetful of self. Indulgent and sympathising, she never judged others with harshness or severity; yet she could be very angry when her indignation was aroused by hearing of injustice or oppression, of cruelty to man or beast, or of any attack on those she loved. Rather timid and retiring in general society, she was otherwise fearless in her quiet way. I well remember her cool composure on some occasions when we were in great danger. This she inherited from her father, Admiral Sir William Fairfax, a gallant gentleman who distinguished himself greatly at the battle of Camperdown.[1]

My mother speaks of him as follows among her "Recollections," of which I now proceed to place some portions before the reader.

My father was very good looking, of a brave and noble nature, and a perfect gentleman both in appearance and character. He was sent to sea as midshipman at ten years of age, so he had very little education; but he read a great deal, chiefly history and voyages. He was very cool, and of instant resource in moments of danger.

One night, when his little vessel had taken refuge with many others from an intensely violent gale and drifting snow in Yarmouth Roads, they saw lights disappear, as vessel after vessel foundered. My father, after having done all that was possible for the safety of the ship, went to bed. His cabin door did not shut closely, from the rolling of the ship, and the man who was sentry that night told my mother years afterwards, that when he saw my father on his knees praying, he thought it would soon be all over with them; then seeing him go to bed and fall asleep, he felt no more fear. In the morning the coast was strewed with wrecks. There were no life-boats in those days; now the lives of hundreds are annually saved by the noble self-devotion of British sailors.

My mother was the daughter of Samuel Charters, Solicitor of the Customs for Scotland, and his wife Christian Murray, of Kynynmont, whose eldest sister married the great grandfather of the present Earl of Minto. My grandmother was exceedingly proud and stately. She made her children stand in her presence. My mother, on the contrary, was indulgent and kind, so that her children were perfectly at ease with her. She seldom read anything but the Bible, sermons, and the newspaper. She was very sincere and devout in her religion, and was remarkable for good sense and great strength of expression in writing and conversation. Though by no means pretty, she was exceedingly distinguished and ladylike both in appearance and manners.

My father was constantly employed, and twice distinguished himself by attacking vessels of superior force. He captured the first, but was overpowered by the second, and being taken to France, remained two years a prisoner on parole, when he met with much kindness from the Choiseul family. At last he was exchanged, and afterwards was appointed lieutenant on board a frigate destined for foreign service. I think it was the North American station, for the war of Independence was not over till the beginning of 1783. As my mother knew that my father would be absent for some years, she accompanied him to London, though so near her confinement that in returning home she had just time to arrive at the manse of Jedburgh, her sister Martha Somerville's[2] house, when I was born, on the 26th December, 1780. My mother was dangerously ill, and my aunt, who was about to wean her second daughter Janet, who married General Henry Elliot, nursed me till a wetnurse could be found. So I was born in the house of my future husband, and nursed by his mother—a rather singular coincidence.

During my father's absence, my mother lived with great economy in a house not far from Burntisland which belonged to my grandfather, solely occupied with the care of her family, which consisted of her eldest son Samuel, four or five years old, and myself. One evening while my brother was lying at play on the floor, he called out, "O, mamma there's the moon rinnin' awa." It was the celebrated meteor of 1783.

Some time afterwards, for what reason I do not know, my father and mother went to live for a short time at Inveresk, and thence returned to Burntisland, our permanent home.

This place, in which my mother's early life was spent, exercised so much influence on her life and pursuits,that I am happy to be able to give the description of it in her own words.

Burntisland was then a small quiet seaport town with little or no commerce, situated on the coast of Fife, immediately opposite to Edinburgh. It is sheltered at some distance on the north by a high and steep hill called the Bin. The harbour lies on the west, and the town ended on the east in a plain of short grass called the Links, on which the townspeople had the right of pasturing their cows and geese. The Links were bounded on each side by low hills covered with gorse and heather, and on the east by a beautiful bay with a sandy beach, which, beginning at a low rocky point, formed a bow and then stretched for several miles to the town of Kinghorn, the distant part skirting a range of high precipitous crags.

Our house, which lay to the south of the town, was very long, with a southern exposure, and its length was increased by a wall covered with fruit-trees, which concealed a courtyard, cow-house, and other offices. From this the garden extended southwards, and ended in a plot of short grass covering a ledge of low black rocks washed by the sea. It was divided into three parts by narrow, almost unfrequented, lanes. These gardens yielded abundance of common fruit and vegetables, but the warmest and best exposures were always devoted to flowers. The garden next to the house was bounded on the south by an ivy-covered wall hid by a row of old elm trees, from whence a steep mossy bank descended to a flat plot of grass with a gravel walk and flower borders on each side, and a broad gravel walk ran along the front of the house. My mother was fond of flowers, and prided herself on her moss-roses, which flourished luxuriantly on the front of the house; but my father, though a sailor, was an excellent florist. He procured the finest bulbs and flower seeds from Holland, and kept each kind in a separate bed.

The manners and customs of the people who inhabited this pretty spot at that time were exceedingly primitive.

Upon the death of any of the townspeople, a man went about ringing a bell at the doors of the friends and acquaintances of the person just dead, and, after calling out "Oyez!" three times, he announced the death which had occurred. This was still called by the name of the Passing-bell, which in Catholic times invited the prayers of the living for the spirit just passed away.

There was much sympathy and kindness shown on these occasions; friends always paid a visit of condolence to the afflicted, dressed in black. The gude wives in Burntisland thought it respectable to provide dead-clothes for themselves and the "gude man," that they might have a decent funeral. I once saw a set of grave-clothes nicely folded up, which consisted of a long shirt and cap of white flannel, and a shroud of fine linen made of yarn, spun by the gude wife herself. I did not like that gude wife; she was purse-proud, and took every opportunity of treating with scorn a poor neighbour who had had a misfortune, that is, a child by her husband before marriage, but who made a very good wife. Her husband worked in our garden, and took our cow to the Links to graze. The wife kept a little shop, where we bought things, and she told us her neighbour had given her "mony a sair greet"—that is, a bitter fit of weeping.

The howdie, or midwife, was a person of much consequence. She had often to go far into the country, by day and by night, riding a cart-horse. The neighbours used to go and congratulate the mother, and, of course, to admire the baby. Cake and caudle were handed round, caudle being oatmeal gruel, with sugar, nutmeg, and white wine. In the poorest class, hot ale and "scons" were offered.

Penny-weddings were by no means uncommon in my young days. When a very poor couple were going to be married, the best man, and even the bridegroom himself, went from house to house, asking for small sums to enable them to have a wedding supper, and pay the town fiddler for a dance; any one was admitted who paid a penny. I recollect the prisoners in the Tolbooth letting down bags from the prison windows, begging for charity. I do not remember any execution taking place.

Men and old women of the lower classes smoked tobacco in short pipes, and many took snuff—even young ladies must have done so; for I have a very pretty and quaint gold snuff-box which was given to my grandmother as a marriage present. Licensed beggars, called "gaberlunzie men," were still common. They wore a blue coat, with a tin badge, and wandered about the country, knew all that was going on, and were always welcome at the farm-houses, where the gude wife liked to have a crack (gossip) with the blue coat, and, in return for his news, gave him dinner or supper, as might be. Edie Ochiltree is a perfect specimen of this extinct race. There was another species of beggar, of yet higher antiquity. If a man were a cripple, and poor, his relations put him in a hand-barrow, and wheeled him to their next neighbour's door, and left him there. Some one came out, gave him oat-cake or peasemeal bannock, and then wheeled him to the next door; and in this way, going from house to house, he obtained a fair livelihood.

My brother Sam lived with our grandfather in Edinburgh, and attended the High School, which was in the old town, and, like other boys, he was given pennies to buy bread; but the boys preferred oysters, which they bought from the fishwives, the bargain being, a dozen oysters for a halfpenny, and a kiss for the thirteenth. These fishwives and their husbands were industrious, hard-working people, forming a community of their own in the village of Newhaven, close to the sea, and about two miles from Edinburgh. The men were exposed to cold, and often to danger, in their small boats, not always well-built nor fitted for our stormy Firth. The women helped to land and prepare the fish when the boats came in, carried it to town for sale in the early morning, kept the purse, managed the house, brought up the children, and provided food and clothing for all. Many were rich, lived well, and sometimes had dances. Many of the young women were pretty, and all wore—and, I am told, still wear—a bright-coloured, picturesque costume. Some young men, amongst others a cousin of my own, who attempted to intrude into one of these balls, got pelted with fish offal by the women. The village smelt strongly of fish, certainly; yet the people were very clean personally. I recollect their keeping tame gulls, which they fed with fish offal.

Although there was no individual enmity between the boys of the old and of the new or aristocratic part of Edinburgh, there were frequent battles, called "bickers," between them, in which they pelted each other with stones. Sometimes they were joined by bigger lads, and then the fight became so serious that the magistrates sent the city guard—a set of old men with halberds and a quaint uniform—to separate them; but no sooner did the guard appear, than both parties joined against them.

Strings of wild geese were common in autumn, and I was amused on one occasion to see the clumsy tame fat geese which were feeding on the Links rise in a body and try to follow the wild ones.

As the grass on the plot before our house did not form a fine even turf, the ground was trenched and sown with good seed, but along with the grass a vast crop of thistles and groundsel appeared, which attracted quantities of goldfinches, and in the early mornings I have seen as many as sixty to eighty of these beautiful birds feeding on it.

My love of birds has continued through life, for only two years ago, in my extreme old age, I lost a pet mountain sparrow, which for eight years was my constant companion: sitting on my shoulder, pecking at my papers, and eating out of my mouth; and I am not ashamed to say I felt its accidental death very much.

Before the grass came up on this plot of ground, its surface in the evening swarmed with earthworms, which instantly shrank into their holes on the approach of a foot. My aunt Janet, who was then with us, and afraid even to speak of death, was horrified on seeing them, firmly believing that she would one day be eaten by them—a very general opinion at that time; few people being then aware that the finest mould in our gardens and fields has passed through the entrails of the earthworm, the vegetable juices it contains being sufficient to maintain these harmless creatures.

My mother was very much afraid of thunder and lightning. She knew when a storm was near from the appearance of the clouds, and prepared for it by taking out the steel pins which fastened her cap on. She then sat on a sofa at a distance from the fire-place, which had a very high chimney, and read different parts of the Bible, especially the sublime descriptions of storms in the Psalms, which made me, who sat close by her, still more afraid. We had an excellent and beautiful pointer, called Hero, a great favourite, who generally lived in the garden, but at the first clap of thunder he used to rush howling indoors, and place his face on my knee. Then my father, who laughed not a little at our fear, would bring a glass of wine to my mother, and say, "Drink that, Peg; it will give you courage, for we are going to have a rat-tat-too." My mother would beg him to shut the window-shutters, and though she could no longer see to read, she kept the Bible on her knee for protection.

My mother taught me to read the Bible, and to say my prayers morning and evening; otherwise she allowed me to grow up a wild creature. When I was seven or eight years old I began to be useful, for I pulled the fruit for preserving; shelled the peas and beans, fed the poultry, and looked after the dairy, for we kept a cow.

On one occasion I had put green gooseberries into bottles and sent them to the kitchen with orders to the cook to boil the bottles uncorked, and, when the fruit was sufficiently cooked, to cork and tie up the bottles. After a time all the house was alarmed by loud explosions and violent screaming in the kitchen, the cook had corked the bottles before she boiled them, and of course they exploded. For greater preservation, the bottles were always buried in the ground; a number were once found in our garden with the fruit in high preservation which had been buried no one knew when. Thus experience is sometimes the antecedent of science, for it was little suspected at that time that by shutting out the air the invisible organic world was excluded—the cause of all fermentation and decay.

I never cared for dolls, and had no one to play with me. I amused myself in the garden, which was much frequented by birds. I knew most of them, their flight and their habits. The swallows were never prevented from building above our windows, and, when about to migrate, they used to assemble in hundreds on the roof of our house, and prepared for their journey by short flights. We fed the birds when the ground was covered with snow, and opened our windows at breakfast-time to let in the robins, who would hop on the table to pick up crumbs. The quantity of singing birds was very great, for the farmers and gardeners were less cruel and avaricious than they are now—though poorer. They allowed our pretty songsters to share in the bounties of providence. The shortsighted cruelty, which is too prevalent now, brings its own punishment, for, owing to the reckless destruction of birds, the equilibrium of nature is disturbed, insects increase to such an extent as materially to affect every description of crop. This summer (1872), when I was at Sorrento, even the olives, grapes, and oranges were seriously injured by the caterpillars—a disaster which I entirely attribute to the ruthless havoc made among every kind of bird.

My mother set me in due time to learn the catechism of the Kirk of Scotland, and to attend the public examinations in the kirk. This was a severe trial for me; for, besides being timid and shy, I had a bad memory, and did not understand one word of the catechism. These meetings, which began with prayer, were attended by all the children of the town and neighbourhood, with their mothers, and a great many old women, who came to be edified. They were an acute race, and could quote chapter and verse of Scripture as accurately as the minister himself. I remember he said to one of them—"Peggie, what lightened the world before the sun was made?" After thinking for a minute, she said—"'Deed, sir, the question is mair curious than edifying."

Besides these public examinations, the minister made an annual visit to each household in his parish. When he came to us, the servants were called in, and we all knelt while he said a prayer; and then he examined each individual as to the state of his soul and conduct. He asked me if I could say my "Questions"—that is, the catechism of the Kirk of Scotland—and asked a question at random to ascertain the fact. He did the same to the servants.

When I was between eight and nine years old, my father came home from sea, and was shocked to find me such a savage. I had not yet been taught to write, and although I amused myself reading the "Arabian Nights," "Robinson Crusoe," and the "Pilgrim's Progress," I read very badly, and with a strong Scotch accent; so, besides a chapter of the Bible, he made me read a paper of the "Spectator" aloud every morning, after breakfast; the consequence of which discipline is that I have never since opened that book. Hume's "History of England" was also a real penance to me. I gladly accompanied my father when he cultivated his flowers, which even now I can say were of the best quality. The tulips and other bulbous plants, ranunculi, anemones, carnations, as well as the annuals then known, were all beautiful. He used to root up and throw away many plants I thought very beautiful; he said he did so because the colours of their petals were not sharply defined, and that they would spoil the seed of the others. Thus I learnt to know the good and the bad—how to lay carnations, and how to distinguish between the leaf and fruit buds in pruning fruit trees; this kind of knowledge was of no practical use, for, as my after-life was spent in towns, I never had a garden, to my great regret.

George the Third was so popular, that even in Burntisland nosegays were placed in every window on the 4th of June, his birthday; and it occasionally happened that our garden was robbed the preceding night of its gayest flowers.

My father at last said to my mother,—"This kind of life will never do, Mary must at least know how to write and keep accounts." So at ten years old I was sent to a boarding-school, kept by a Miss Primrose, at Musselburgh, where I was utterly wretched. The change from perfect liberty to perpetual restraint was in itself a great trial; besides, being naturally shy and timid, I was afraid of strangers, and although Miss Primrose was not unkind she had an habitual frown, which even the elder girls dreaded. My future companions, who were all older than I, came round me like a swarm of bees, and asked if my father had a title, what was the name of our estate, if we kept a carriage, and other such questions, which made me first feel the difference of station. However, the girls were very kind, and often bathed my eyes to prevent our stern mistress from seeing that I was perpetually in tears. A few days after my arrival, although perfectly straight and well-made, I was enclosed in stiff stays with a steel busk in front, while, above my frock, bands drew my shoulders back till the shoulder-blades met. Then a steel rod, with a semi-circle which went under the chin, was clasped to the steel busk in my stays. In this constrained state I, and most of the younger girls, had to prepare our lessons. The chief thing I had to do was to learn by heart a page of Johnson's dictionary, not only to spell the words, give their parts of speech and meaning, but as an exercise of memory to remember their order of succession. Besides I had to learn the first principles of writing, and the rudiments of French and English grammar. The method of teaching was extremely tedious and inefficient. Our religious duties were attended to in a remarkable way. Some of the girls were Presbyterians, others belonged to the Church of England, so Miss Primrose cut the matter short by taking us all to the kirk in the morning and to church in the afternoon.

In our play-hours we amused ourselves with playing at ball, marbles, and especially at "Scotch and English," a game which represented a raid on the debatable land, or Border between Scotland and England, in which each party tried to rob the other of their playthings. The little ones were always compelled to be English, for the bigger girls thought it too degrading.

Lady Hope, a relative of my mother, frequently invited me to spend Saturday at Pinkie. She was a very ladylike person, in delicate health, and with cold manners. Sir Archibald was stout, loud, passionate, and devoted to hunting. I amused myself in the grounds, a good deal afraid of a turkey-cock, who was pugnacious and defiant.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Sir William Fairfax was the son of Joseph Fairfax, Esq., of Bagshot, in the county of Surrey, who died in 1783, aged 77, having served in the army previous to 1745. It is understood that his family was descended from the Fairfaxes of Walton, in Yorkshire, the main branch of which were created Viscounts Fairfax of Emly, in the peerage of Ireland (now extinct), and a younger branch Barons Fairfax of Cameron, in the peerage of Scotland. Of the last-named was the great Lord Fairfax, Commander-in-Chief of the armies of the Parliament, 1645-50, whose title is now held by the eleventh Lord Fairfax, a resident in the United States of America.

[2] Wife of the Rev. Dr. Thomas Somerville, minister of Jedburgh, already mentioned (p. 2). Dr. Somerville was author of Histories of Queen Anne and of William and Mary, and also of an autobiography.

CHAPTER II.

FREEDOM—RELIGIOUS EDUCATION—JEDBURGH.

My mother remained at school at Musselburgh for a twelvemonth, till she was eleven years old. After this prolonged and elaborate education, she was recalled to Burntisland, and the results of the process she had undergone are detailed in her "Recollections" with much drollery.

Soon after my return home I received a note from a lady in the neighbourhood, inquiring for my mother, who had been ill. This note greatly distressed me, for my half-text writing was as bad as possible, and I could neither compose an answer nor spell the words. My eldest cousin, Miss Somerville, a grown-up young lady, then with us, got me out of this scrape, but I soon got myself into another, by writing to my brother in Edinburgh that I had sent him a bank-knot (note) to buy something for me. The school at Musselburgh was expensive, and I was reproached with having cost so much money in vain. My mother said she would have been contented if I had only learnt to write well and keep accounts, which was all that a woman was expected to know.

This passed over, and I was like a wild animal escaped out of a cage. I was no longer amused in the gardens, but wandered about the country. When the tide was out I spent hours on the sands, looking at the star-fish and sea-urchins, or watching the children digging for sand-eels, cockles, and the spouting razor-fish. I made a collection of shells, such as were cast ashore, some so small that they appeared like white specks in patches of black sand. There was a small pier on the sands for shipping limestone brought from the coal mines inland. I was astonished to see the surface of these blocks of stone covered with beautiful impressions of what seemed to be leaves; how they got there I could not imagine, but I picked up the broken bits, and even large pieces, and brought them to my repository. I knew the eggs of many birds, and made a collection of them. I never robbed a nest, but bought strings of eggs, which were sold by boys, besides getting sea-fowl eggs from sailors who had been in whalers or on other northern voyages. It was believed by these sailors that there was a gigantic flat fish in the North Sea, called a kraken. It was so enormous that when it came to the surface, covered with tangles and sand, it was supposed to be an island, till, on one occasion, part of a ship's crew landed on it and found out their mistake. However, much as they believed in it, none of the sailors at Burntisland had ever seen it. The sea serpent was also an article of our faith.

In the rocks at the end of our garden there was a shingly opening, in which we used to bathe, and where at low tide I frequently waded among masses of rock covered with sea-weeds. With the exception of dulse and tangle I knew the names of none, though I was well acquainted with and admired many of these beautiful plants. I also watched the crabs, live shells, jelly-fish, and various marine animals, all of which were objects of curiosity and amusement to me in my lonely life.

The flora on the links and hills around was very beautiful, and I soon learnt the trivial names of all the plants. There was not a tree nor bush higher than furze in this part of the country, but the coast to the north-west of Burntisland was bordered by a tree and brushwood-covered bank belonging to the Earl of Morton, which extended to Aberdour. I could not go so far alone, but had frequent opportunities of walking there and gathering ferns, foxgloves, and primroses, which grew on the mossy banks of a little stream that ran into the sea. The bed of this stream or burn was thickly covered with the freshwater mussel, which I knew often contained pearls, but I did not like to kill the creatures to get the pearls.

One day my father, who was a keen sportsman, having gone to fish for red trout at the mouth of this stream, found a young whale, or grampus, stranded in the shallow water. He immediately ran back to the town, got boats, captured the whale, and landed it in the harbour, where I went with the rest of the crowd to see the muckle fish.

There was always a good deal of shipbuilding carried on in the harbour, generally coasting vessels or colliers. We, of course, went to see them launched, which was a pretty sight.

When the bad weather began I did not know what to do with myself. Fortunately we had a small collection of books, among which I found Shakespeare, and read it at every moment I could spare from my domestic duties. These occupied a great part of my time; besides, I had to shew (sew) my sampler, working the alphabet from A to Z, as well as the ten numbers, on canvas.

My mother did not prevent me from reading, but my aunt Janet, who came to live in Burntisland after her father's death, greatly disapproved of my conduct. She was an old maid who could be very agreeable and witty, but she had all the prejudices of the time with regard to women's duties, and said to my mother, "I wonder you let Mary waste her time in reading, she never shews (sews) more than if she were a man." Whereupon I was sent to the village school to learn plain needlework. I do not remember how long it was after this that an old lady sent some very fine linen to be made into shirts for her brother, and desired that one should be made entirely by me. This shirt was so well worked that I was relieved from attending the school, but the house linen was given into my charge to make and to mend. We had a large stock, much of it very beautiful, for the Scotch ladies at that time were very proud of their napery, but they no longer sent it to Holland to be bleached, as had once been the custom. We grew flax, and our maids spun it. The coarser yarn was woven in Burntisland, and bleached upon the links; the finer was sent to Dunfermline, where there was a manufactory of table-linen.

I was annoyed that my turn for reading was so much disapproved of, and thought it unjust that women should have been given a desire for knowledge if it were wrong to acquire it. Among our books I found Chapone's "Letters to Young Women," and resolved to follow the course of history there recommended, the more so as we had most of the works she mentions. One, however, which my cousin lent me was in French, and here the little I had learnt at school was useful, for with the help of a dictionary I made out the sense. What annoyed me was my memory not being good—I could remember neither names nor dates. Years afterwards I studied a "Memoria Technica," then in fashion, without success; yet in my youth I could play long pieces of music on the piano without the book, and I never forget mathematical formulæ. In looking over one of my MSS., which I had not seen for forty years, I at once recognised the formulæ for computing the secular inequalities of the moon.

We had two small globes, and my mother allowed me to learn the use of them from Mr. Reed, the village schoolmaster, who came to teach me for a few weeks in the winter evenings. Besides the ordinary branches, Mr. Reed taught Latin and navigation, but these were out of the question for me. At the village school the boys often learnt Latin, but it was thought sufficient for the girls to be able to read the Bible; very few even learnt writing. I recollect, however, that some men were ignorant of book-keeping; our baker, for instance had a wooden tally, in which he made a notch for every loaf of bread, and of course we had the corresponding tally. They were called nick-sticks.

My bedroom had a window to the south, and a small closet near had one to the north. At these I spent many hours, studying the stars by the aid of the celestial globe. Although I watched and admired the magnificent displays of the Aurora, which frequently occurred, they seemed to be so nearly allied to lightning that I was somewhat afraid of them. At an earlier period of my life there was a comet, which I dreaded exceedingly.

My father was Captain of the "Repulse," a fifty-gun ship, attached to the Northern fleet commanded by the Earl of Northesk. The winter was extremely stormy, the fleet was driven far north, and kept there by adverse gales, till both officers and crew were on short rations. They ran out of candles, and had to tear up their stockings for wicks, and dip them into the fat of the salt meat which was left. We were in great anxiety, for it was reported that some of the ships had foundered; we were, however, relieved by the arrival of the "Repulse" in Leith roads for repair.

Our house on one occasion being full, I was sent to sleep in a room quite detached from the rest and with a different staircase. There was a closet in this room in which my father kept his fowling pieces, fishing tackle, and golf clubs, and a long garret overhead was filled with presses and stores of all kinds, among other things a number of large cheeses were on a board slung by ropes to the rafters. One night I had put out my candle and was fast asleep, when I was awakened by a violent crash, and then a rolling noise over my head. Now the room was said to be haunted, so that the servants would not sleep in it. I was desperate, for there was no bell. I groped my way to the closet—lucifer matches were unknown in those days—I seized one of the golf clubs, which are shod with iron, and thundered on the bedroom door till I brought my father, followed by the whole household, to my aid. It was found that the rats had gnawed through the ropes by which the cheeses were suspended, so that the crash and rolling were accounted for, and I was scolded for making such an uproar.

Children suffer much misery by being left alone in the dark. When I was very young I was sent to bed at eight or nine o'clock, and the maid who slept in the room went away as soon as I was in bed, leaving me alone in the dark till she came to bed herself. All that time I was in an agony of fear of something indefinite, I could not tell what. The joy, the relief, when the maid came back, were such that I instantly fell asleep. Now that I am a widow and old, although I always have a night-lamp, such is the power of early impressions that I rejoice when daylight comes.

At Burntisland the sacrament was administered in summer because people came in crowds from the neighbouring parishes to attend the preachings. The service was long and fatiguing. A number of clergymen came to assist, and as the minister's manse could not accommodate them all, we entertained three of them, one of whom was always the Rev. Dr. Campbell, father of Lord Campbell.

Thursday was a day of preparation. The morning service began by a psalm sung by the congregation, then a prayer was said by the minister, followed by a lecture on some chapter of the Bible, generally lasting an hour, after that another psalm was sung, followed by a prayer, a sermon which lasted seldom less than an hour, and the whole ended with a psalm, a short prayer and a benediction. Every one then went home to dinner and returned afterwards for afternoon service, which lasted more than an hour and a half. Friday was a day of rest, but I together with many young people went at this time to the minister to receive a stamped piece of lead as a token that we were sufficiently instructed to be admitted to Christ's table. This ticket was given to the Elder on the following Sunday. On Saturday there was a morning service, and on Sunday such multitudes came to receive the sacrament that the devotions continued till late in the evening. The ceremony was very strikingly and solemnly conducted. The communicants sat on each side of long narrow tables covered with white linen, in imitation of the last supper of Christ, and the Elders handed the bread and wine. After a short exhortation from one of the ministers the first set retired, and were succeeded by others. When the weather was fine a sermon, prayers, and psalm-singing took place either in the churchyard or on a grassy bank at the Links for such as were waiting to communicate. On the Monday morning there was the same long service as on the Thursday. It was too much for me; I always came home with a headache, and took a dislike to sermons.

Our minister was a rigid Calvinist. His sermons were gloomy, and so long that he occasionally would startle the congregation by calling out to some culprit, "Sit up there, how daur ye sleep i' the kirk." Some saw-mills in the neighbourhood were burnt down, so the following Sunday we had a sermon on hell-fire. The kirk was very large and quaint; a stair led to a gallery on each side of the pulpit, which was intended for the tradespeople, and each division was marked with a suitable device, and text from Scripture. On the bakers' portion a sheaf of wheat was painted; a balance and weights on the grocers', and on the weavers', which was opposite to our pew, there was a shuttle, and below it the motto, "My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and are spent without hop job." The artist was evidently no clerk.

My brother Sam, while attending the university in Edinburgh, came to us on the Saturdays and returned to town on Monday. He of course went with us to the kirk on Sunday morning, but we let our mother attend afternoon service alone, as he and I were happy to be together, and we spent the time sitting on the grassy rocks at the foot of our garden, from whence we could see a vast extent of the Firth of Forth with Edinburgh and its picturesque hills. It was very amusing, for we occasionally saw three or four whales spouting, and shoals of porpoises at play. However, we did not escape reproof, for I recollect the servant coming to tell us that the minister had sent to inquire whether Mr. and Miss Fairfax had been taken ill, as he had not seen them at the kirk in the afternoon. The minister in question was Mr. Wemyss, who had married a younger sister of my mother's.

When I was about thirteen my mother took a small apartment in Edinburgh for the winter, and I was sent to a writing school, where I soon learnt to write a good hand, and studied the common rules of arithmetic. My uncle William Henry Charters, lately returned from India, gave me a pianoforte, and I had music lessons from an old lady who lived in the top story of one of the highest houses in the old town. I slept in the same room with my mother. One morning I called out, much alarmed, "There is lightning!" but my mother said, after a moment, "No; it is fire!" and on opening the window shutters I found that the flakes of fire flying past had made the glass quite hot. The next house but one was on fire and burning fiercely, and the people next door were throwing everything they possessed, even china and glass, out of the windows into the street. We dressed quickly, and my mother sent immediately to Trotter the upholsterer for four men. We then put our family papers, our silver, &c., &c., into trunks; then my mother said, "Now let us breakfast, it is time enough for us to move our things when the next house takes fire." Of its doing so there was every probability because casks of turpentine and oil were exploding from time to time in a carriage manufactory at the back of it. Several gentlemen of our acquaintance who came to assist us were surprised to find us breakfasting quietly as if there were nothing unusual going on. In fact my mother, though a coward in many things, had, like most women, the presence of mind and the courage of necessity. The fire was extinguished, and we had only the four men to pay for doing nothing, nor did we sacrifice any of our property like our neighbours who had completely lost their heads from terror. I may mention here that on one occasion when my father was at home he had been ill with a severe cold, and wore his nightcap. While reading in the drawing-room one evening he called out, "I smell fire, there is no time to be lost," so, snatching up a candle, he wandered from room to room followed by us all still smelling fire, when one of the servants said, "O, sir, it is the tassel of your nightcap that is on fire."

On returning to Burntisland, I spent four or five hours daily at the piano; and for the sake of having something to do, I taught myself Latin enough from such books as we had, to read Cæsar's "Commentaries." I went that summer on a visit to my aunt at Jedburgh, and, for the first time in my life, I met in my uncle, Dr. Somerville, with a friend who approved of my thirst for knowledge. During long walks with him in the early mornings, he was so kind, that I had the courage to tell him that I had been trying to learn Latin, but I feared it was in vain; for my brother and other boys, superior to me in talent, and with every assistance, spent years in learning it. He assured me, on the contrary, that in ancient times many women—some of them of the highest rank in England—had been very elegant scholars, and that he would read Virgil with me if I would come to his study for an hour or two every morning before breakfast, which I gladly did.

I never was happier in my life than during the months I spent at Jedburgh. My aunt was a charming companion—witty, full of anecdote, and had read more than most women of her day, especially Shakespeare, who was her favourite author. My cousins had little turn for reading, but they were better educated than most girls. They were taught to write by David Brewster, son of the village schoolmaster, afterwards Sir David, who became one of the most distinguished philosophers and discoverers of the age, member of all the scientific societies at home and abroad, and at last President of the University of Edinburgh. He was studying in Edinburgh when I was at Jedburgh; so I did not make his acquaintance then; but later in life he became my valued friend. I did not know till after his death, that, while teaching my cousins, he fell in love with my cousin Margaret. I do not believe she was aware of it. She was afterwards attached to an officer in the army; but my aunt would not allow her to go to that outlandish place, Malta, where he was quartered; so she lived and died unmarried. Steam has changed our ideas of distance since that time.

My uncle's house—the manse—in which I was born, stands in a pretty garden, bounded by the fine ancient abbey, which, though partially ruined, still serves as the parish kirk. The garden produced abundance of common flowers, vegetables, and fruit. Some of the plum and pear trees were very old, and were said to have been planted by the monks. Both were excellent in quality, and very productive. The view from both garden and manse was over the beautiful narrow valley through which the Jed flows. The precipitous banks of red sandstone are richly clothed with vegetation, some of the trees ancient and very fine, especially the magnificent one called the capon tree, and the lofty king of the wood, remnants of the fine forests which at one time had covered the country. An inland scene was new to me, and I was never tired of admiring the tree-crowned scaurs or precipices, where the rich glow of the red sandstone harmonized so well with the autumnal tints of the foliage.

We often bathed in the pure stream of the Jed. My aunt always went with us, and was the merriest of the party; we bathed in a pool which was deep under the high scaur, but sloped gradually from the grassy bank on the other side. Quiet and transparent as the Jed was, it one day came down with irresistible fury, red with the débris of the sandstone scaurs. There had been a thunderstorm in the hills up-stream, and as soon as the river began to rise, the people came out with pitchforks and hooks to catch the hayricks, sheaves of corn, drowned pigs, and other animals that came sweeping past. My cousins and I were standing on the bridge, but my aunt called us off when the water rose above the arches, for fear of the bridge giving way. We made expeditions every day; sometimes we went nutting in the forest; at other times we gathered mushrooms on the grass parks of Stewartfield, where there was a wood of picturesque old Scotch firs, inhabited by a colony of rooks. I still kept the habit of looking out for birds, and had the good fortune to see a heron, now a rare bird in the valley of the Jed. Some of us went every day to a spring called the Allerly well, about a quarter of a mile from the manse, and brought a large jug of its sparkling water for dinner. The evenings were cheerful; my aunt sang Scotch songs prettily, and told us stories and legends about Jedburgh, which had been a royal residence in the olden time. She had a tame white and tawny-coloured owl, which we fed every night, and sometimes brought into the drawing-room. The Sunday evening never was gloomy, though properly observed. We occasionally drank tea with acquaintances, and made visits of a few days to the Rutherfurds of Edgerton and others; but I was always glad to return to the manse.

My uncle, like other ministers of the Scottish Kirk, was allowed a glebe, which he farmed himself. Besides horses, a cow was kept, which supplied the family with cream and butter, and the skimmed milk was given to the poor; but as the milk became scarce, one woman was deprived, for the time, of her share. Soon after, the cow was taken ill, and my uncle's ploughman, Will, came to him and said, "Sir, gin you would give that carline Tibby Jones her soup o' milk again, the coo would soon be weel eneugh." Will was by no means the only believer in witchcraft at that time.

CHAPTER III.

EDINBURGH—YOUTHFUL STUDIES AND AMUSEMENTS—POLITICS—THE THEATRES OF THE TIME.

My mother's next visit was to the house of her uncle, William Charters, in Edinburgh. From thence she was enabled to partake of the advantages of a dancing-school of the period.

They sent me to Strange's dancing school. Strange himself was exactly like a figure on the stage; tall and thin, he wore a powdered wig, with cannons at the ears, and a pigtail. Ruffles at the breast and wrists, white waistcoat, black silk or velvet shorts, white silk stockings, large silver buckles, and a pale blue coat completed his costume. He had a little fiddle on which he played, called a kit. My first lesson was how to walk and make a curtsey. "Young lady, if you visit the queen you must make three curtsies, lower and lower and lower as you approach her. So—o—o," leading me on and making me curtsey. "Now, if the queen were to ask you to eat a bit of mutton with her, what would you say?" Every Saturday afternoon all the scholars, both boys and girls, met to practise in the public assembly rooms in George's Street. It was a handsome large hall with benches rising like an amphitheatre. Some of the elder girls were very pretty, and danced well, so these practisings became a lounge for officers from the Castle, and other young men. We used always to go in full evening dress. We learnt the minuet de la cour, reels and country dances. Our partners used to give us gingerbread and oranges. Dancing before so many people was quite an exhibition, and I was greatly mortified one day when ready to begin a minuet, by the dancing-master shaking me roughly and making me hold out my frock properly.

Though kind in the main, my uncle and his wife were rather sarcastic and severe, and kept me down a good deal, which I felt keenly, but said nothing. I was not a favourite with my family at that period of my life, because I was reserved and unexpansive, in consequence of the silence I was obliged to observe on the subjects which interested me. Three Miss Melvilles, friends, or perhaps relatives, of Mrs. Charters, were always held up to me as models of perfection, to be imitated in everything, and I wearied of hearing them constantly praised at my expense.

In a small society like that of Edinburgh there was a good deal of scandal and gossip; every one's character and conduct were freely criticised, and by none more than by my aunt and her friends. She used to sit at a window embroidering, where she not only could see every one that passed, but with a small telescope could look into the dressing-room of a lady of her acquaintance, and watch all she did. A spinster lady of good family, a cousin of ours, carried her gossip so far, that she was tried for defamation, and condemned to a month's imprisonment, which she actually underwent in the Tolbooth. She was let out just before the king's birthday, to celebrate which, besides the guns fired at the Castle, the boys let off squibs and crackers in all the streets. As the lady in question was walking up the High Street, some lads in a wynd, or narrow street, fired a small cannon, and one of the slugs with which it was loaded hit her mouth and wounded her tongue. This raised a universal laugh; and no one enjoyed it more than my uncle William, who disliked this somewhat masculine woman.

Whilst at my uncle's house, I attended a school for writing and arithmetic, and made considerable progress in the latter, for I liked it, but I soon forgot it from want of practice.

My uncle and aunt generally paid a visit to the Lyells of Kinnordy, the father and mother of my friend Sir Charles Lyell, the celebrated geologist; but this time they accepted an invitation from Captain Wedderburn, and took me with them. Captain Wedderburn was an old bachelor, who had left the army and devoted himself to agriculture. Mounted on a very tall but quiet horse, I accompanied my host every morning when he went over his farm, which was chiefly a grass farm. The house was infested with rats, and a masculine old maid, who was of the party, lived in such terror of them, that she had a light in her bedroom, and after she was in bed, made her maid tuck in the white dimity curtains all round. One night we were awakened by violent screams, and on going to see what was the matter, we found Miss Cowe in the middle of the room, bare-footed, in her night-dress, screaming at the top of her voice. Instead of tucking the rats out of the bed, the maid had tucked one in, and Miss Cowe on waking beheld it sitting on her pillow.

There was great political agitation at this time. The corruption and tyranny of the court, nobility, and clergy in France were so great, that when the revolution broke out, a large portion of our population thought the French people were perfectly justified in revolting, and warmly espoused their cause. Later many changed their opinions, shocked, as every one was, at the death of the king and queen, and the atrocious massacres which took place in France. Yet some not only approved of the revolution abroad, but were so disgusted with our mal-administration at home, to which they attributed our failure in the war in Holland and elsewhere, that great dissatisfaction and alarm prevailed throughout the country. The violence, on the other hand, of the opposite party was not to be described,—the very name of Liberal was detested.

Great dissensions were caused by difference of opinion in families; and I heard people previously much esteemed accused from this cause of all that was evil. My uncle William and my father were as violent Tories as any.

The Liberals were distinguished by wearing their hair short, and when one day I happened to say how becoming a crop was, and that I wished the men would cut off those ugly pigtails, my father exclaimed, "By G—, when a man cuts off his queue, the head should go with it."

The unjust and exaggerated abuse of the Liberal party made me a Liberal. From my earliest years my mind revolted against oppression and tyranny, and I resented the injustice of the world in denying all those privileges of education to my sex which were so lavishly bestowed on men. My liberal opinions, both in religion and politics, have remained unchanged (or, rather, have advanced) throughout my life, but I have never been a republican. I have always considered a highly-educated aristocracy essential, not only for government, but for the refinement of a people.

After her winter in Edinburgh, my mother returned to Burntisland. Strange to say, she found there, in an illustrated Magazine of Fashions, the introduction to the great study of her life.

I was often invited with my mother to the tea-parties given either by widows or maiden ladies who resided at Burntisland. A pool of commerce used to be keenly contested till a late hour at these parties, which bored me exceedingly, but I there became acquainted with a Miss Ogilvie, much younger than the rest, who asked me to go and see fancy works she was doing, and at which she was very clever. I went next day, and after admiring her work, and being told how it was done, she showed me a monthly magazine with coloured plates of ladies' dresses, charades, and puzzles. At the end of a page I read what appeared to me to be simply an arithmetical question; but on turning the page I was surprised to see strange looking lines mixed with letters, chiefly X'es and Y's, and asked; "What is that?" "Oh," said Miss Ogilvie, "it is a kind of arithmetic: they call it Algebra; but I can tell you nothing about it." And we talked about other things; but on going home I thought I would look if any of our books could tell me what was meant by Algebra.

In Robertson's "Navigation" I flattered myself that I had got precisely what I wanted; but I soon found that I was mistaken. I perceived, however, that astronomy did not consist in star-gazing,[3] and as I persevered in studying the book for a time, I certainly got a dim view of several subjects which were useful to me afterwards. Unfortunately not one of our acquaintances or relations knew anything of science or natural history; nor, had they done so, should I have had courage to ask any of them a question, for I should have been laughed at. I was often very sad and forlorn; not a hand held out to help me.

My uncle and aunt Charters took a house at Burntisland for the summer, and the Miss Melville I have already mentioned came to pay them a visit. She painted miniatures, and from seeing her at work, I took a fancy to learn to draw, and actually wasted time in copying prints; but this circumstance enabled me to get elementary books on Algebra and Geometry without asking questions of any one, as will be explained afterwards. The rest of the summer I spent in playing on the piano and learning Greek enough to read Xenophon and part of Herodotus; then we prepared to go to Edinburgh.

My mother was so much afraid of the sea that she never would cross the Firth except in a boat belonging to a certain skipper who had served in the Navy and lost a hand; he had a hook fastened on the stump to enable him to haul ropes. My brother and I were tired of the country, and one sunny day we persuaded my mother to embark. When we came to the shore, the skipper said, "I wonder that the leddy boats to-day, for though it is calm here under the lee of the land, there is a stiff breeze outside." We made him a sign to hold his tongue, for we knew this as well as he did. Our mother went down to the cabin and remained silent and quiet for a time; but when we began to roll and be tossed about, she called out to the skipper, "George! this is an awful storm, I am sure we are in great danger. Mind how you steer; remember, I trust in you!" He laughed, and said, "Dinna trust in me, leddy; trust in God Almighty." Our mother, in perfect terror, called out, "Dear me! is it come to that?" We burst out laughing, skipper and all.

Nasmyth, an exceedingly good landscape painter, had opened an academy for ladies in Edinburgh, a proof of the gradual improvement which was taking place in the education of the higher classes; my mother, very willingly allowed me to attend it. The class was very full. I was not taught to draw, but looked on while Nasmyth painted; then a picture was given me to copy, the master correcting the faults. Though I spoilt canvas, I had made some progress by the end of the season.[4] Mr. Nasmyth, besides being a good artist, was clever, well-informed, and had a great deal of conversation. One day I happened to be near him while he was talking to the Ladies Douglas about perspective. He said, "You should study Euclid's Elements of Geometry; the foundation not only of perspective, but of astronomy and all mechanical science." Here, in the most unexpected manner, I got the information I wanted, for I at once saw that it would help me to understand some parts of Robertson's "Navigation;" but as to going to a bookseller and asking for Euclid the thing was impossible! Besides I did not yet know anything definite about Algebra, so no more could be done at that time; but I never lost sight of an object which had interested me from the first.

I rose early, and played four or five hours, as usual, on the piano, and had lessons from Corri, an Italian, who taught carelessly, and did not correct a habit I had of thumping so as to break the strings; but I learned to tune a piano and mend the strings, as there was no tuner at Burntisland. Afterwards I got over my bad habit and played the music then in vogue: pieces by Pleyel, Clementi, Steibelt, Mozart, and Beethoven, the last being my favourite to this day. I was sometimes accompanied on the violin by Mr. Thomson, the friend of Burns; more frequently by Stabilini; but I was always too shy to play before people, and invariably played badly when obliged to do so, which vexed me.

The prejudice against the theatre had been very great in Scotland, and still existed among the rigid Calvinists. One day, when I was fourteen or fifteen, on going into the drawing-room, an old man sitting beside my mother rose and kissed me, saying, "I am one of your mother's oldest friends." It was Home, the author of the tragedy of "Douglas." He was obliged to resign his living in the kirk for the scandal of having had his play acted in the theatre in Edinburgh, and some of his clerical friends were publicly rebuked for going to see it. Our family was perfectly liberal in all these matters. The first time I had ever been in a theatre I went with my father to see "Cymbeline." I had never neglected Shakespeare, and when our great tragedians, Mrs. Siddons and her brother, John Kemble, came for a short time to act in Edinburgh, I could think of nothing else. They were both remarkably handsome, and, notwithstanding the Scotch prejudice, the theatre was crowded every night. It was a misfortune to me that my mother never would go into society during the absence of my father, nor, indeed, at any time, except, perhaps, to a dinner party; but I had no difficulty in finding a chaperone, as we knew many people. I used to go to the theatre in the morning, and ask to see the plan of the house for the evening, that I might know which ladies I could accompany to their boxes. Of course I paid for my place. Our friends were so kind that I saw these great artists, as well as Charles Kemble, Young, and Bannister, in "Hamlet," "Macbeth," "Othello," "Coriolanus," "The Gamester," &c.

It was greatly to the honour of the British stage that all the principal actors, men and women, were of excellent moral character, and much esteemed. Many years afterwards, when Mrs. Siddons was an old woman, I drank tea with her, and heard her read Milton and Shakespeare. Her daughter told us to applaud, for she had been so much accustomed to it in the theatre that she could not read with spirit without this expression of approbation.

My mother was pleased with my music and painting, and, although she did not go to the theatre herself, she encouraged me to go. She was quite of the old school with regard to the duties of women, and very particular about her table; and, although we were obliged to live with rigid economy, our food was of the best quality, well dressed, and neatly served, for she could tell the cook exactly what was amiss when anything was badly cooked. She thought besides that some of the comfort of married life depended upon the table, so I was sent to a pastrycook for a short time every day, to learn the art of cookery. I had for companions Miss Moncreiff, daughter of Sir Henry Moncreiff Wellwood, a Scotch baronet of old family. She was older than I, pretty, pleasing, and one of the belles of the day. We were amused at the time, and afterwards made jellies and creams for little supper parties, then in fashion, though, as far as economy went, we might as well have bought them.

On returning to Burntisland, I played on the piano as diligently as ever, and painted several hours every day. At this time, however, a Mr. Craw came to live with us as tutor to my youngest brother, Henry. He had been educated for the kirk, was a fair Greek and Latin scholar, but, unfortunately for me, was no mathematician. He was a simple, good-natured kind of man, and I ventured to ask him about algebra and geometry, and begged him, the first time he went to Edinburgh, to buy me something elementary on these subjects, so he soon brought me "Euclid" and Bonnycastle's "Algebra," which were the books used in the schools at that time. Now I had got what I so long and earnestly desired. I asked Mr. Craw to hear me demonstrate a few problems in the first book of "Euclid," and then I continued the study alone with courage and assiduity, knowing I was on the right road. Before I began to read algebra I found it necessary to study arithmetic again, having forgotten much of it. I never was expert at addition, for, in summing up a long column of pounds, shillings, and pence, in the family account book, it seldom came out twice the same way. In after life I, of course, used logarithms for the higher branches of science.

I had to take part in the household affairs, and to make and mend my own clothes. I rose early, played on the piano, and painted during the time I could spare in the daylight hours, but I sat up very late reading Euclid. The servants, however, told my mother "It was no wonder the stock of candles was soon exhausted, for Miss Mary sat up reading till a very late hour;" whereupon an order was given to take away my candle as soon as I was in bed. I had, however, already gone through the first six books of Euclid, and now I was thrown on my memory, which I exercised by beginning at the first book, and demonstrating in my mind a certain number of problems every night, till I could nearly go through the whole. My father came home for a short time, and, somehow or other, finding out what I was about, said to my mother, "Peg, we must put a stop to this, or we shall have Mary in a strait jacket one of these days. There was X., who went raving mad about the longitude!"

In our younger days my brother Sam and I kept various festivals: we burnt nuts, ducked for apples, and observed many other of the ceremonies of Halloween, so well described by Burns, and we always sat up to hail the new year on New Year's Eve. When in Edinburgh we sometimes disguised ourselves as "guisarts," and went about with a basket full of Christmas cakes called buns and shortbread, and a flagon of "het-pint" or posset, to wish our friends a "Happy New Year." At Christmas time a set of men, called the Christmas Wakes, walked slowly through the streets during the midnight hours, playing our sweet Scotch airs on flageolets. I remember the sound from a distance fell gently on my sleeping ear, swelled softly, and died away in distance again, a passing breeze of sweet sound. It was very pleasing; some thought it too sad.

My grandfather was intimate with the Boswells of Balmuto, a bleak place a few miles to the north of Burntisland. Lord Balmuto, a Scotch judge, who was then proprietor, had been a dancing companion of my mother's, and had a son and two daughters, the eldest a nice girl of my age, with whom I was intimate, so I gladly accepted an invitation to visit them at Balmuto. Lord Balmuto was a large coarse-looking man, with black hair and beetling eyebrows. Though not vulgar, he was passionate, and had a boisterous manner. My mother and her sisters gave him the nickname of the "black bull of Norr'away," in allusion to the northern position of Balmuto. Mrs. Boswell was gentle and ladylike. The son had a turn for chemistry, and his father took me to see what they called the Laboratory. What a laboratory might be I knew not, as I had never heard the word before, but somehow I did not like the look of the curiously-shaped glass things and other apparatus, so when the son put a substance on the table, and took a hammer, his father saying, "Now you will hear a fine report," I ran out of the room, saying, "I don't like reports." Sure enough there was a very loud report, followed by a violent crash, and on going into the room again, we found that the son had been knocked down, the father was trembling from head to foot, and the apparatus had been smashed to pieces. They had had a narrow escape. Miss Boswell led a dull life, often passing the winter with her mother in that solitary place, Balmuto; and when in Edinburgh, she was much kept down by her father, and associated little with people of her own age and station. The consequence was that she eloped with her drawing-master, to the inexpressible rage and mortification of her father, who had all the Scotch pride of family and pure blood.

This year we remained longer in the country than usual, and I went to spend Christmas with the Oswalds of Dunnikeir. The family consisted of a son, a colonel in the army, and three daughters, the youngest about my age, a bold horsewoman. She had talent, became a good Greek and Latin scholar, and was afterwards married to the Earl of Elgin. More than seventy years after this I had a visit from the Dean of Westminster and Lady Augusta Stanley, her daughter; a very charming person, who told me about her family, of which I had heard nothing for years. I was very happy to see the Dean, one of the most liberal and distinguished members of the Church of England, and son of my old friend the late Bishop of Norwich.

When I returned to Edinburgh Mr. Nasmyth was much pleased with the progress I had made in painting, for, besides having copied several landscapes he had lent me, I had taken the outline of a print and coloured it from a storm I saw at the end of our garden. This picture I still possess.

Dr. Blair, minister of the High Kirk of Edinburgh, the well-known author and professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in the University, an intimate friend of my grandfather's, had heard of my turn for painting, and asked my mother to let him see some of my pictures. A few of the best were sent to him, and were returned after a few days accompanied by a long letter from the old gentleman, pointing out what he admired most in each picture. I was delighted with the letter, and not a little vain of the praise.

LETTER FROM DR. BLAIR TO MARY FAIRFAX.

My dear Miss Fairfax,

This comes to return you a thousand thanks for the pleasure and entertainment I have had from your landscape paintings. I had them placed in the best light I could contrive in my drawing-room, and entertained myself a good while every day looking at them and admiring their beauties, which always grew upon me. I intend to return them to you to-morrow, or rather on the beginning of next week; and as they were taken particular care of, I hope they shall not appear to have suffered any injury.

I have exhibited them to several people, some of whom were excellent judges, whom I brought on purpose to view them—Lady Miller, the Solicitor and Mrs. Blair, his lady, Dr. Hill, Miss Anne Ker of Nisbet, and a variety of ladies. All joined in praising them highly. The penserosa figure caught the highest admiration of any, from the gracefulness of the figure and attitude, and the boldness and propriety of the scenery. The two morning and evening views—one of Lochness, and the other of Elcho Castle—which make fine companions, and which I always placed together, were also highly admired. Each of them had their different partizans, and I myself was for a good while undetermined which of them to prefer. At last, I found the placidity of the scene in Elcho Castle, with the cottages among the trees, dwelt most on my imagination, though the gaiety and brightness of the morning sky in the other has also exquisite beauty. On the whole, I am persuaded that your taste and powers of execution in that art are uncommonly great, and that if you go on you must excel highly, and may go what length you please. Landscape painting has been always a great favourite with me; and you have really contributed much to my entertainment. As I thought you might wish to know my sentiments, after your paintings had been a little considered, I was led to write you these lines (in which I assure you there is nothing flattering), before sending back your pieces to you. With best compliments to Lady Fairfax, believe me,

Your obliged and most obedient Servant,
Hugh Blair.
Argyll Square, 11th April (probably) 1796.

A day or two after this a Mrs. Ramsay, a rich proud widow, a relation of my mother's, came with her daughter, who was an heiress, to pay us a morning visit. Looking round the room she asked who had painted the pictures hung up on the walls. My mother, who was rather proud of them, said they were painted by me. "I am glad," said Mrs. Ramsay, "that Miss Fairfax has any kind of talent that may enable her to win her bread, for everyone knows she will not have a sixpence." It was a very severe hit, because it was true. Had it been my lot to win my bread by painting, I fear I should have fared badly, but I never should have been ashamed of it; on the contrary, I should have been very proud had I been successful. I must say the idea of making money had never entered my head in any of my pursuits, but I was intensely ambitious to excel in something, for I felt in my own breast that women were capable of taking a higher place in creation than that assigned to them in my early days, which was very low.

Not long after Mrs. Ramsay's visit to my mother, Miss Ramsay went to visit the Dons, at Newton Don, a pretty place near Kelso. Miss Ramsay and the three Miss Dons were returning from a long walk; they had reached the park of Newton Don, when they heard the dinner bell ring, and fearing to be too late for dinner, instead of going round, they attempted to cross a brook which runs through the park. One of the Miss Dons stumbled on the stepping-stones and fell into the water. Her two sisters and Miss Ramsay, trying to save her, fell in one after another. The three Miss Dons were drowned, but Miss Ramsay, who wore a stiff worsted petticoat, was buoyed up by it and carried down stream, where she caught by the branch of a tree and was saved. She never recovered the shock of the dreadful scene.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Many people evidently think the science of astronomy consists entirely in observing the stars, for I have been frequently asked if I passed my nights looking through a telescope, and I have astonished the enquirers by saying I did not even possess one.

[4] Nasmyth told a lady still alive who took lessons from him in her youth, that the cleverest young lady he ever taught was Miss Mary Fairfax.

CHAPTER IV.

EDINBURGH SUPPER PARTIES—TOUR IN THE HIGHLANDS—MUTINY IN THE FLEET—BATTLE OF CAMPERDOWN.

By this time my mother was grown up, and extremely pretty. All those who knew her speak of her rare and delicate beauty, both of face and figure. They called her the "Rose of Jedwood." She kept her beauty to the last day of her life, and was a beautiful old woman, as she had been a lovely young one. She used to say, laughing, that "it was very hard no one ever thought of painting her portrait so long as she was young and pretty." After she became celebrated, various likenesses were taken of her, by far the best of which are a beautiful bust, modelled at Rome in 1844 by Mr. Lawrence Macdonald, and a crayon drawing by Mr. James Swinton, done in London in 1848. My mother always looked considerably younger than her age; even at ninety, she looked younger than some who were her juniors by several years. This was owing, no doubt, principally to her being small and delicate in face and figure, but also, I think, to the extreme youthfulness and freshness of both her heart and mind, neither of which ever grew old. It certainly was not due to a youthful style of dress, for she had perfect taste in such matters, as well as in other things; and although no one spent less thought or money on it than she, my mother was at all times both neatly and becomingly dressed. She never was careless; and her room, her papers, and all that belonged to her were invariably in the most beautiful order. My mother's recollections of this period of her life are as follows:—

At that time Edinburgh was really the capital of Scotland; most of the Scotch families of distinction spent the winter there, and we had numerous acquaintances who invited me to whatever gaiety was going on. As my mother refused to go into society when my father was at sea, I had to find a chaperon; but I never was at a loss, for we were somehow related to the Erskine family, and the Countess of Buchan, an amiable old lady, was always ready to take charge of me.

It was under Lady Buchan's care that I made my first appearance at a ball, and my first dancing partner was the late Earl of Minto, then Mr. Gilbert Elliot, with whom I was always on very friendly terms, as well as with his family. Many other ladies were willing to take charge of me, but a chaperon was only required for the theatre, and concerts, and for balls in the public assembly rooms; at private balls the lady of the house was thought sufficient. Still, although I was sure to know everybody in the room, or nearly so, I liked to have some one with whom to enter and to sit beside. Few ladies kept carriages, but went in sedan chairs, of which there were stands in the principal streets. Ladies were generally attended by a man-servant, but I went alone, as our household consisted of two maid-servants only. My mother knew, however, that the Highlanders who carried me could be trusted. I was fond of dancing, and never without partners, and often came home in bright daylight. The dances were reels, country dances, and sometimes Sir Roger de Coverley.

At this period, although busily engaged in studying painting at Nasmyth's academy, practising the piano five hours a day, and pursuing her more serious studies zealously, my mother went a good deal into society, for Edinburgh was a gay, sociable place, and many people who recollect her at that time, and some who were her dancing partners, have told me she was much admired, and a great favourite. They said she had a graceful figure, below the middle size, a small head, well set on her shoulders, a beautiful complexion, bright, intelligent eyes, and a profusion of soft brown hair. Besides the various occupations I have mentioned, she made all her own dresses, even for balls. These, however, unlike the elaborate productions of our day, were simply of fine India muslin, with a little Flanders lace. She says of her life in Edinburgh:—

Girls had perfect liberty at that time in Edinburgh; we walked together in Princes Street, the fashionable promenade, and were joined by our dancing partners. We occasionally gave little supper parties, and presented these young men to our parents as they came in. At these meetings we played at games, danced reels, or had a little music—never cards. After supper there were toasts, sentiments, and songs. There were always one or two hot dishes, and a variety of sweet things and fruit. Though I was much more at ease in society now, I was always terribly put out when asked for a toast or a sentiment. Like other girls, I did not dislike a little quiet flirtation; but I never could speak across a table, or take a leading part in conversation. This diffidence was probably owing to the secluded life I led in my early youth. At this time I gladly took part in any gaiety that was going on, and spent the day after a ball in idleness and gossiping with my friends; but these were rare occasions, for the balls were not numerous, and I never lost sight of the main object of my life, which was to prosecute my studies. So I painted at Nasmyth's, played the usual number of hours on the piano, worked and conversed with my mother in the evening; and as we kept early hours, I rose at day-break, and after dressing, I wrapped myself in a blanket from my bed on account of the excessive cold—having no fire at that hour—and read algebra or the classics till breakfast time. I had, and still have, determined perseverance, but I soon found that it was in vain to occupy my mind beyond a certain time. I grew tired and did more harm than good; so, if I met with a difficult point, for example, in algebra, instead of poring over it till I was bewildered, I left it, took my work or some amusing book, and resumed it when my mind was fresh. Poetry was my great resource on these occasions, but at a later period I read novels, the "Old English Baron," the "Mysteries of Udolpho," the "Romance of the Forest," &c. I was very fond of ghost and witch stories, both of which were believed in by most of the common people and many of the better educated. I heard an old naval officer say that he never opened his eyes after he was in bed. I asked him why? and he replied, "For fear I should see something!" Now I did not actually believe in either ghosts or witches, but yet, when alone in the dead of the night, I have been seized with a dread of, I know not what. Few people will now understand me if I say I was eerie, a Scotch expression for superstitious awe. I have been struck, on reading the life of the late Sir David Brewster, with the influence the superstitions of the age and country had on both learned and unlearned. Sir David was one of the greatest philosophers of the day. He was only a year younger than I; we were both born in Jedburgh, and both were influenced by the superstitions of our age and country in a similar manner, for he confessed that, although he did not believe in ghosts, he was eerie when sitting up to a late hour in a lone house that was haunted. This is a totally different thing from believing in spirit-rapping, which I scorn.

We returned as usual to Burntisland, in spring, and my father, who was at home, took my mother and me a tour in the Highlands. I was a great admirer of Ossian's poems, and viewed the grand and beautiful scenery with awe; and my father, who was of a romantic disposition, smiled at my enthusiastic admiration of the eagles as they soared above the mountains. These noble birds are nearly extirpated; and, indeed, the feathered tribes, which were more varied and numerous in Britain than in any part of Europe, will soon disappear. They will certainly be avenged by the insects.

On coming home from the journey I was quite broken-hearted to find my beautiful goldfinch, which used to draw its water so prettily with an ivory cup and little chain, dead in its cage. The odious wretches of servants, to whose care I trusted it, let it die of hunger. My heart is deeply pained as I write this, seventy years afterwards.

In Fifeshire, as elsewhere, political opinions separated friends and disturbed the peace of families; discussions on political questions were violent and dangerous on account of the hard-drinking then so prevalent. At this time the oppression and cruelty committed in Great Britain were almost beyond endurance. Men and women were executed for what at the present day would only have been held to deserve a few weeks' or months' imprisonment.[5] Every liberal opinion was crushed, men were entrapped into the army by promises which were never kept, and press-gangs tore merchant seamen from their families, and forced them to serve in the navy, where they were miserably provided for. The severity of discipline in both services amounted to torture. Such was the treatment of the brave men on whom the safety of the nation depended! They could bear it no longer; a mutiny broke out in the fleet which had been cruising off the Texel to watch the movements of a powerful Dutch squadron. The men rose against their officers, took the command, and ship after ship returned to England, leaving only a frigate and the "Venerable," commanded by Admiral Duncan, with my father as his flag-captain. To deceive the Dutch, they continued to make signals, as if the rest of the fleet were in the offing, till they could return to England; when, without delay, Admiral Duncan and my father went alone on board each ship, ordered the men to arrest the ringleaders, which was done, and the fleet immediately returned to its station off the Texel. At last, on the morning of the 11th October, 1797, the Dutch fleet came out in great force, and formed in line of battle; that is, with their broadsides towards our ships. Then Admiral Duncan said to my father, "Fairfax, what shall we do?"—"Break their line, sir, and draw up on the other side, where they will not be so well prepared."—"Do it, then, Fairfax." So my father signalled accordingly. The circumstances of the battle, which was nobly fought on both sides, are historical. Nine ships of the line and two frigates were taken, and my father was sent home to announce the victory to the Admiralty. The rejoicing was excessive; every town and village was illuminated; and the Administration, relieved from the fear of a revolution, continued more confidently its oppressive measures.

When Admiral Duncan came to London, he was made a Baron, and afterwards Earl of Camperdown; and, by an unanimous vote of the House of Commons, he received a pension or a sum of money, I forget which; my father was knighted, and made Colonel of Marines. Earl Spencer was First Lord of the Admiralty at the time, and Lady Spencer said to my father, "You ask for the promotion of your officers, but you never have asked a reward for yourself." He replied, "I leave that to my country." But his country did nothing for him; and at his death my mother had nothing to live upon but the usual pension of an Admiral's widow, of seventy-five pounds a-year. Our friends, especially Robert Ferguson, junior, of Raith, made various attempts to obtain an addition to it; but it was too late: Camperdown was forgotten.

I remember one morning going to Lord Camperdown's house in Edinburgh with my mother, to see a very large painting, representing the quarter-deck of the "Venerable," Admiral Duncan, as large as life, standing upright, and the Dutch Admiral, De Winter, presenting his sword to my father. Another representation of the same scene may be seen among the numerous pictures of naval battles which decorate the walls of the great hall at Greenwich Hospital. Many years afterwards I was surprised to see an engraving of this very picture in the public library at Milan. I did not know that one existed.

At a great entertainment given to Lord Duncan by the East India Company, then in great power, the President asked my father, who sat at his left hand, if he had any relation in India? He replied, "My eldest son is in the Company's military service." "Then," said the President, "he shall be a Writer, the highest appointment in my power to bestow." I cannot tell how thankful we were; for, instead of a separation of almost a lifetime, it gave hopes that my brother might make a sufficient fortune in a few years to enable him to come home. There was a great review of the troops at Calcutta, under a burning sun; my brother returned to the barracks, sun-struck, where he found his appointment, and died that evening, at the age of twenty-one.

My mother has often told us of her heart-broken parting with this brother on his going to India. It was then almost for a lifetime, and he was her favourite brother, and the companion of her childhood. He must have been wonderfully handsome, judging from a beautifully-painted miniature which we have of him.

Public events became more and more exciting every day, and difficulties occurred at home. There had been bad harvests, and there was a great scarcity of bread; the people were much distressed, and the manufacturing towns in England were almost in a state of revolution; but the fear of invasion kept them quiet. I gloried in the brilliant success of our arms by land and by sea; and although I should have been glad if the people had resisted oppression at home, when we were threatened with invasion, I would have died to prevent a Frenchman from landing on our coast. No one can imagine the intense excitement which pervaded all ranks at that time. Every one was armed, and, notwithstanding the alarm, we could not but laugh at the awkward, and often ridiculous, figures of our old acquaintances, when at drill in uniform. At that time I went to visit my relations at Jedburgh. Soon after my arrival, we were awakened in the middle of the night by the Yeomanry entering the town at full gallop. The beacons were burning on the top of the Cheviots and other hills, as a signal that the French had landed. When day came, every preparation was made; but it was a false alarm.

The rapid succession of victories by sea and land was intensely exciting. We always illuminated our house, and went to the rocky bank in our southern garden to see the illumination of Edinburgh, Leith, and the shipping in the Roads, which was inexpressibly beautiful, though there was no gas in those times. It often happened that balls were given by the officers of the ships of war that came occasionally to Leith Roads, and I was always invited, but never allowed to go; for my mother thought it foolish to run the risk of crossing the Firth, a distance of seven miles, at a late hour, in a small open boat and returning in the morning, as the weather was always uncertain, and the sea often rough from tide and wind. On one occasion, my father was at home, and, though it was blowing hard, I thought he would not object to accepting the invitation; but he said, "Were it a matter of duty, you should go, even at the risk of your life, but for a ball, certainly not."

We were as poor as ever, even more so; for my father was led into unavoidable expenses in London; so, after all the excitement, we returned to our more than usually economical life. No events worth mentioning happened for a long time. I continued my diversified pursuits as usual; had they been more concentrated, it would have been better; but there was no choice; for I had not the means of pursuing any one as far as I could wish, nor had I any friend to whom I could apply for direction or information. I was often deeply depressed at spending so much time to so little purpose.

FOOTNOTES:

[5] The late Justice Coltman told us, when he and Lady Coltman came to see my father and mother at Siena, that he recollected when he first went the circuit seeing more than twenty people hanged at once at York, chiefly for horse-stealing and such offences.—Editor.

CHAPTER V.

FIRST MARRIAGE (1804)—WIDOWHOOD—STUDIES—SECOND MARRIAGE.

Mr. Samuel Greig was a distant relation of the Charters family. His father, an officer in the British navy, had been sent by our government, at the request of the Empress Catharine, to organize the Russian navy. Mr. Greig came to the Firth of Forth on board a Russian frigate, and was received by the Fairfaxes at Burntisland with Scotch hospitality, as a cousin. He eventually married my mother; not, however, until he had obtained the Russian consulship, and settled permanently in London, for Russia was then governed in the most arbitrary and tyrannical manner, and was neither a safe nor a desirable residence, and my grandfather only gave his consent to the marriage on this condition. My mother says:—

My cousin, Samuel Greig, commissioner of the Russian navy, and Russian consul for Britain, came to pay us a visit, and ultimately became my husband. Fortune I had none, and my mother could only afford to give me a very moderate trousseau, consisting chiefly of fine personal and household linen. When I was going away she gave me twenty pounds to buy a shawl or something warm for the following winter. I knew that the President of the Academy of Painting, Sir Arthur Shee, had painted a portrait of my father immediately after the battle of Camperdown, and I went to see it. The likeness pleased me,—the price was twenty pounds; so instead of a warm shawl I bought my father's picture, which I have since given to my nephew, Sir William George Fairfax. My husband's brother, Sir Alexis Greig, who commanded the Russian naval force in the Black Sea for more than twenty years, came to London about this time, and gave me some furs, which were very welcome. Long after this, I applied to Sir Alexis, at the request of Dr. Whewell, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge, and through his interest an order was issued by the Russian Government for simultaneous observations to be made of the tides on every sea-coast of the empire.

LETTER FROM DR. WHEWELL TO MRS. SOMERVILLE.

University Club, Jan. 5, 1838.

I enclose a memorandum respecting tide observations, to which subject I am desirous of drawing the attention of the Russian Government. Nobody knows better than you do how much remains to be done respecting the tides, and what important results any advance in that subject would have. I hope, through your Russian friends, you may have the means of bringing this memorandum to the notice of the administration of their navy, so as to lead to some steps being taken, in the way of directing observations to be made. The Russian Government has shown so much zeal in promoting science, that I hope it will not be difficult to engage them in a kind of research so easy, so useful practically, and so interesting in its theoretical bearing.

Believe me, dear Mrs. Somerville,
Very faithfully yours,
W. Whewell.

My husband had taken me to his bachelor's house in London, which was exceedingly small and ill ventilated. I had a key of the neighbouring square, where I used to walk. I was alone the whole of the day, so I continued my mathematical and other pursuits, but under great disadvantages; for although my husband did not prevent me from studying, I met with no sympathy whatever from him, as he had a very low opinion of the capacity of my sex, and had neither knowledge of nor interest in science of any kind. I took lessons in French, and learnt to speak it so as to be understood. I had no carriage, so went to the nearest church; but, accustomed to our Scotch Kirk, I never could sympathise with the coldness and formality of the service of the Church of England. However, I thought it my duty to go to church and join where I could in prayer with the congregation.

There was no Italian Opera in Edinburgh; the first time I went to one was in London as chaperone to Countess Catharine Woronzow, afterwards Countess of Pembroke, who was godmother to my eldest son. I sometimes spent the evening with her, and occasionally dined at the embassy; but went nowhere else till we became acquainted with the family of Mr. Thomson Bonar, a rich Russian merchant, who lived in great luxury at a beautiful villa at Chiselhurst, in the neighbourhood of London, which has since become the refuge of the ex-Emperor Napoleon the Third and the Empress Eugénie. The family consisted of Mr. and Mrs. Bonar,—kind, excellent people,—with two sons and a daughter, all grown up. We were invited from time to time to spend ten days or a fortnight with them, which I enjoyed exceedingly. I had been at a riding school in Edinburgh, and rode tolerably, but had little practice, as we could not afford to keep horses. On our first visit, Mrs. Bonar asked me if I would ride with her, as there was a good lady's horse to spare, but I declined. Next day I said, "I should like to ride with you." "Why did you not go out with me yesterday?" she asked. "Because I had heard so much of English ladies' riding, that I thought you would clear all the hedges and ditches, and that I should be left behind lying on the ground." I spent many pleasant days with these dear good people; and no words can express the horror I felt when we heard that they had been barbarously murdered in their bedroom. The eldest son and daughter had been at a ball somewhere near, and on coming home they found that one of the men-servants had dashed out the brains of both their parents with a poker. The motive remains a mystery to this day, for it was not robbery.

After three years of married life, my mother returned to her father's house in Burntisland, a widow, with two little boys. The youngest died in childhood. The eldest was Woronzow Greig, barrister-at-law, late Clerk of the Peace for Surrey. He died suddenly in 1865, to the unspeakable sorrow of his family, and the regret of all who knew him.

I was much out of health after my husband's death, and chiefly occupied with my children, especially with the one I was nursing; but as I did not go into society, I rose early, and, having plenty of time, I resumed my mathematical studies. By this time I had studied plane and spherical trigonometry, conic sections, and Fergusson's "Astronomy." I think it was immediately after my return to Scotland that I attempted to read Newton's "Principia." I found it extremely difficult, and certainly did not understand it till I returned to it some time after, when I studied that wonderful work with great assiduity, and wrote numerous notes and observations on it. I obtained a loan of what I believe was called the Jesuit's edition, which helped me. At this period mathematical science was at a low ebb in Britain; reverence for Newton had prevented men from adopting the "Calculus," which had enabled foreign mathematicians to carry astronomical and mechanical science to the highest perfection. Professors Ivory and de Morgan afterwards adopted the "Calculus"; but several years elapsed before Mr. Herschel and Mr. Babbage were joint-editors with Professor Peacock in publishing an abridged translation of La Croix's "Treatise on the Differential and Integral Calculus." I became acquainted with Mr. Wallace, who was, if I am not mistaken, mathematical teacher of the Military College at Marlow, and editor of a mathematical journal published there. I had solved some of the problems contained in it and sent them to him, which led to a correspondence, as Mr. Wallace sent me his own solutions in return. Mine were sometimes right and sometimes wrong, and it occasionally happened that we solved the same problem by different methods. At last I succeeded in solving a prize problem! It was a diophantine problem, and I was awarded a silver medal cast on purpose with my name, which pleased me exceedingly.

Mr. Wallace was elected Professor of Mathematics in the University of Edinburgh, and was very kind to me. When I told him that I earnestly desired to go through a regular course of mathematical and astronomical science, even including the highest branches, he gave me a list of the requisite books, which were in French, and consisted of Francœur's pure "Mathematics," and his "Elements of Mechanics," La Croix's "Algebra," and his large work on the "Differential and Integral Calculus," together with his work on "Finite Differences and Series," Biot's "Analytical Geometry and Astronomy," Poisson's "Treatise on Mechanics," La Grange's "Theory of Analytical Functions," Euler's "Algebra," Euler's "Isoperimetrical Problems" (in Latin), Clairault's "Figure of the Earth," Monge's "Application of Analysis to Geometry," Callet's "Logarithms," La Place's "Mécanique Céleste," and his "Analytical Theory of Probabilities," &c., &c., &c.[6]

I was thirty-three years of age when I bought this excellent little library. I could hardly believe that I possessed such a treasure when I looked back on the day that I first saw the mysterious word "Algebra," and the long course of years in which I had persevered almost without hope. It taught me never to despair. I had now the means, and pursued my studies with increased assiduity; concealment was no longer possible, nor was it attempted. I was considered eccentric and foolish, and my conduct was highly disapproved of by many, especially by some members of my own family, as will be seen hereafter. They expected me to entertain and keep a gay house for them, and in that they were disappointed. As I was quite independent, I did not care for their criticism. A great part of the day I was occupied with my children; in the evening I worked, played piquet with my father, or played on the piano, sometimes with violin accompaniment.

This was the most brilliant period of the Edinburgh Review; it was planned and conducted with consummate talent by a small society of men of the most liberal principles. Their powerful articles gave a severe and lasting blow to the oppressive and illiberal spirit which had hitherto prevailed. I became acquainted with some of these illustrious men, and with many of their immediate successors. I then met Henry Brougham, who had so remarkable an influence on my future life. His sister had been my early companion, and while visiting her I saw her mother—a fine, intelligent old lady, a niece of Robertson the historian. I had seen the Rev. Sydney Smith, that celebrated wit and able contributor to the Review, at Burntisland, where he and his wife came for sea-bathing. Long afterwards we lived on the most friendly terms till their deaths. Of that older group no one was more celebrated than Professor Playfair. He knew that I was reading the "Mécanique Céleste," and asked me how I got on? I told him that I was stopped short by a difficulty now and then, but I persevered till I got over it. He said, "You would do better to read on for a few pages and return to it again, it will then no longer seem so difficult." I invariably followed his advice and with much success.

Professor Playfair was a man of the most varied accomplishments and of the highest scientific distinction. He was an elderly man when I first became acquainted with him, by no means good-looking, but with a benevolent expression, somewhat concealed by the large spectacles he always wore. His manner was gravely cheerful; he was perfectly amiable, and was both respected and loved, but he could be a severe though just critic. He liked female society, and, philosopher as he was, marked attention from the sex obviously flattered him.

I had now read a good deal on the higher branches of mathematics and physical astronomy, but as I never had been taught, I was afraid that I might imagine that I understood the subjects when I really did not; so by Professor Wallace's advice I engaged his brother to read with me, and the book I chose to study with him was the "Mécanique Céleste." Mr. John Wallace was a good mathematician, but I soon found that I understood the subject as well as he did. I was glad, however, to have taken this resolution, as it gave me confidence in myself and consequently courage to persevere. We had advanced but little in this work when my marriage with my cousin, William Somerville (1812), put an end to scientific pursuits for a time.

FOOTNOTES:

[6] These books and all the other mathematical works belonging to my mother at the time of her death have been presented to the College for Women, at Girton, Cambridge.

CHAPTER VI.

SOMERVILLE FAMILY—DR. SOMERVILLE'S CHARACTER—LETTERS—JOURNEY TO THE LAKES—DEATH OF SIR WILLIAM FAIRFAX—REMINISCENCES OF SIR WALTER SCOTT.

With regard to my father's family, I cannot do better than quote what my grandfather, the Rev. Thomas Somerville, says in his "Life and Times":—"I am a descendant of the ancient family of Somerville of Cambusnethan, which was a branch of the Somervilles of Drum, ennobled in the year 1424. Upon the death of George Somerville, of Corhouse, fifty years ago, I became the only male representative of the family." There is a quaint old chronicle, entitled "Memorie of the Somervilles," written by James, eleventh Lord Somerville, who died in 1690, which was printed for private distribution, and edited by Sir Walter Scott, and gives ample details of all the branches of our family. Although infinitely too prolix for our nineteenth century ideas, it contains many curious anecdotes and pictures of Scottish life.

My father was the eldest son of the minister of Jedburgh, and until his marriage with my mother, had lived almost entirely abroad and in our colonies. It was always a subject of regret to my mother that my father never could be induced to publish an account of his important travels in South Africa, for which he had ample materials in the notes he brought home, many of which we still possess. Without being very deeply learned on any one special subject, he was generally well-informed, and very intelligent. He was an excellent classical scholar, and could repeat long passages from Horace and other authors. He had a lively interest in all branches of natural history, was a good botanist and mineralogist, and could take note of all the strange animals, plants, or minerals he saw in his adventurous journies in the countries, now colonized, but then the hunting-grounds of Caffres and other uncivilized tribes. He was the first white man who penetrated so far into the country, and it was not without great risk. Indeed, on one occasion he was sentenced to death by a Caffre chief, and only saved by the interposition of the chief's mother.

My father's style in writing English was singularly pure and correct, and he was very fastidious on this topic—a severe critic, whether in correcting the children's lessons or in reading over the last proof sheets of my mother's works previous to their publication. These qualities would have fitted him very well to write the history of his travels, but he disliked the trouble of it, and, never having the slightest ambition on his own account, he let the time for publication slip by. Others travelled over the country he first explored, and the novelty was at an end. He was far happier in helping my mother in various ways, searching the libraries for the books she required, indefatigably copying and recopying her manuscripts, to save her time. No trouble seemed too great which he bestowed upon her; it was a labour of love. My father was most kindhearted, and I have often heard my mother say how many persons he had assisted in life, and what generous actions he had done, many of them requited with ingratitude, and with betrayal of confidence. From the way my mother speaks of their life, it can be seen how happy was their marriage and how much sympathy there was between them. Speaking of his son's marriage with my mother, the Rev. Dr. Somerville says, in his "Life and Times," page 390: "To myself this connection was on every account peculiarly gratifying. Miss Fairfax had been born and nursed in my house; her father being at that time abroad on public service. She afterwards often resided in my family, was occasionally my scholar, and was looked upon by me and my wife as if she had been one of our own children. I can truly say, that next to them she was the object of our most tender regard. Her ardent thirst for knowledge, her assiduous application to study, and her eminent proficiency in science and the fine arts, have procured her a celebrity rarely obtained by any of her sex. But she never displays any pretensions to superiority, while the affability of her temper, and the gentleness of her manners afford constant sources of gratification to her friends. But what, above all other circumstances, rendered my son's choice acceptable to me, was that it had been the anxious, though secret, desire of my dear wife." I have already said that this esteem and affection of her father-in-law was warmly responded to by my mother. The following letter from her to him shows it vividly:—

LETTER FROM MRS. SOMERVILLE TO THE REV. DR. SOMERVILLE.

Edinburgh, 1st June, 1812.

I have this moment been gratified and delighted with your excellent and affectionate letter; the intercourse we have so long enjoyed has always been a source of the purest pleasure to me, and the kind interest you have taken from my infancy in my welfare was at all times highly flattering, and much valued; but now that the sacred name of Father is added, nothing is wanting to complete my happiness; and you may rest assured that William is not more anxious to hasten our visit to Jedburgh than I am.... With the affectionate love of all here,

I remain your ever most affectionate daughter,
Mary Somerville.

P.S.—I am much flattered by the Latin quotation, and feel happy that your instructions have enabled me to read it.

I will now proceed with the extracts from my mother's Recollections:—

My husband had been present at the taking of the Cape of Good Hope, and was sent by the authorities to make a treaty with the savage tribes on the borders of the colony, who had attacked the boors, or Dutch farmers, and carried off their cattle. In this journey he was furnished with a waggon and accompanied by Mr. Daniel, a good artist, who made drawings of the scenery, as well as of the animals and people. The savage tribes again became troublesome, and in a second expedition my cousin was only accompanied by a faithful Hottentot as interpreter. They were both mounted, and each led a spare horse with such things as were absolutely necessary, and when they bivouacked where, for fear of the natives, they did not dare light a fire to keep off the wild beasts, one kept watch while the other slept. After many adventures and dangers, my husband reached the Orange River, and was the first white man who had ever been in that part of Africa. He afterwards served in Canada and in Sicily at the head of the medical staff, under his friend General Sir James Craig. On returning to England he generally lived in London, so that he was seldom with his family, with whom he was not a favourite on account of his liberal principles, the very circumstance that was an attraction to me. He had lived in the world, was extremely handsome, had gentlemanly manners, spoke good English, and was emancipated from Scotch prejudices.

I had been living very quietly with my parents and children, so until I was engaged to my cousin I was not aware of the extreme severity with which my conduct was criticised by his family, and I have no doubt by many others; for as soon as our engagement was known I received a most impertinent letter from one of his sisters, who was unmarried, and younger than I, saying, she "hoped I would give up my foolish manner of life and studies, and make a respectable and useful wife to her brother." I was extremely indignant. My husband was still more so, and wrote a severe and angry letter to her; none of the family dared to interfere again. I lived in peace with her, but there was a coldness and reserve between us ever after. I forgot to mention that during my widowhood I had several offers of marriage. One of the persons whilst he was paying court to me, sent me a volume of sermons with the page ostentatiously turned down at a sermon on the Duties of a Wife, which were expatiated upon in the most illiberal and narrow-minded language. I thought this as impertinent as it was premature; sent back the book and refused the proposal.

My uncle, the Rev. Dr. Somerville, was delighted with my marriage with his son, for he was liberal, and sincerely attached to me. We were married by his intimate friend, Sir Henry Moncreiff Wellwood, and set off for the lakes in Cumberland. My husband's second sister, Janet, resolved to go with us, and she succeeded through the influence of my aunt, now my mother-in-law—a very agreeable, but bold, determined person, who was always very kind and sincerely attached to me. We were soon followed by my cousin, Samuel Somerville and his wife. We had only been a day or two in the little inn at Lowood when he was taken ill of a fever, which detained us there for more than a month. During his illness he took a longing for currant jelly, and here my cookery was needed; I made some that was excellent, and I never can forget the astonishment expressed at my being able to be so useful.

Somerville and I proceeded to London; and we managed to obtain a good position near Temple Bar to see the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia and his sons, Blucher, Platoff, the Hetman of the Cossacks, &c., &c., enter the City. There was a brilliant illumination in the evening, and great excitement. We often saw these noted persons afterwards, but we did not stay long in London, as my husband was appointed head of the Army Medical Department in Scotland, so we settled in Edinburgh. As he was allowed to have a secretary, he made choice of Donald Finlayson, a young man of great learning and merit, who was to act as tutor to my son, Woronzow Greig, then attending the High School, of which Mr. Pillans was master. Mr. Finlayson was a remarkably good Greek scholar, and my husband said, "Why not take advantage of such an opportunity of improvement?" So I read Homer for an hour every morning before breakfast. Mr. Finlayson joined the army as surgeon, and distinguished himself by his courage and humanity during the battle of Waterloo; but he was lost in the march of the army to Paris, and his brother George, after having sought for him in vain, came to live with us in his stead. He excelled in botany, and here again, by my husband's advice, I devoted a morning hour to that science, though I was nursing a baby at the time. I knew the vulgar name of most of the plants that Mr. Finlayson had gathered, but now I was taught systematically, and afterwards made a herbarium, both of land plants and fuci. This young man's hopeful career was early arrested by his love of science, for he died of jungle fever in Bengal, caught while in search of plants.

Professor Playfair was now old, and resigned his chair, which Mr. Leslie was perfectly competent to fill on account of his acknowledged scientific acquirements; but, being suspected of heretical opinions, his appointment was keenly opposed, especially on the part of the clergy, and a violent contest arose, which ended in his favour. We became acquainted with him and liked him. He was a man of original genius, full of information on a variety of subjects, agreeable in conversation and good natured, but with a singular vanity as to personal appearance. Though one of the coarsest looking men I ever knew, he talked so much of polish and refinement that it tempted Mr. William Clerk, of Eldin, to make a very clever clay model of his ungainly figure. The professor's hair was grey, and he dyed it with something that made it purple; and, as at that time the art was not brought to its present perfection, the operation was tedious and only employed at intervals, so that the professor's hair was often white at the roots and dark purple at the extremities. He was always falling in love, and, to Somerville's inexpressible amusement, he made me his decoy duck, inviting me to see some experiments, which he performed dexterously; at the same time telling me to bring as many young ladies as I chose, especially Miss——, for he was sure she had a turn for science. He was unfortunate in his aspirations, and remained a bachelor to the end of his life.

It was the custom in Edinburgh, especially among the clergy, to dine between the morning and evening service on Sundays, and to sup at nine or ten o'clock. In no family were these suppers more agreeable or cheerful than in that of Sir Henry Moncreiff Wellwood, minister of the West Kirk. There were always a few of the friends of Sir Henry and Lady Moncreiff present, and we were invited occasionally. There was a substantial hot supper of roasted fowls, game, or lamb, and afterwards a lively, animated conversation on a variety of subjects, without a shade of austerity, though Sir Henry was esteemed an orthodox preacher.

There was an idiot in Edinburgh, the son of a respectable family, who had a remarkable memory. He never failed to go to the Kirk on Sunday, and on returning home could repeat the sermon word for word, saying, Here the minister coughed, Here he stopped to blow his nose. During the tour we made in the Highlands we met with another idiot who knew the Bible so perfectly that if you asked him where such a verse was to be found, he could tell without hesitation, and repeat the chapter. The common people in Scotland at that time had a kind of serious compassion for these harmless idiots, because "the hand of God was upon them."

The wise as well as the foolish are sometimes endowed with a powerful memory. Dr. Gregory, an eminent Edinburgh physician, one of the cleverest and most agreeable men I ever met with, was a remarkable instance of this. He wrote and spoke Latin fluently, and Somerville, who was a good Latinist, met with a Latin quotation in some book he was reading, but not knowing from whence it was taken, asked his friend Dr. Gregory. "It is forty years since I read that author," said Dr. Gregory, "but I think you will find the passage in the middle of such a page." Somerville went for the book, and at the place mentioned there it was.

I had the grief to lose my dear father at this time. He had served sixty-seven years in the British Navy, and must have been twice on the North American station, for he was present at the taking of Quebec by General Wolfe, in 1759, and afterwards during the War of Independence. After the battle of Camperdown he was made a Colonel of Marines, and died, in 1813, Vice-Admiral of the Red.

Geology, which has now been so far advanced as a science, was still in its infancy. Professor Playfair and Mr. Hutton had written on the subject; and in my gay young days, when Lady Helen Hall was occasionally my chaperone, I had heard that Sir James Hall had taken up the subject, but I did not care about it; I am certain that at that time I had never heard the word Geology. I think it was now, on going with Somerville to see the Edinburgh Museum, that I recognised the fossil plants I had seen in the coal limestone on the sands at the Links of Burntisland. Ultimately Geology became a favourite pursuit of ours, but then minerals were the objects of our joint study. Mineralogy had been much cultivated on the Continent by this time, especially in Germany. It had been established as a science by Werner, who was educated at an institution near the silver mines of Friburg, where he afterwards lectured on the properties of crystals, and had many pupils. In one of our tours on the Continent, Somerville and I went to see these silver mines and bought some specimens for our cabinet. The French took up the subject with great zeal, and the Abbé Haüy's work became a standard book on the science. Cabinets of minerals had been established in the principal cities of Great Britain, professors were appointed in the Universities, and collections of minerals were not uncommon in private houses. While quite a girl, I went with my parents to visit the Fergusons of Raith, near Kirkcaldy, and there I saw a magnificent collection of minerals, made by their son while abroad. It contained gems of great value and crystallized specimens of precious and other metals, which surprised and interested me; but seeing that such valuable things could never be obtained by me, I thought no more about them. In those early days I had every difficulty to contend with; now, through the kindness and liberal opinions of my husband, I had every encouragement. He took up the study of mineralogy with zeal, and I heartily joined with him. We made the acquaintance of Professor Jameson, a pupil of Werner's, whose work on mineralogy was of great use to us. We began to form a cabinet of minerals, which, although small, were good of their kind. We were criticized for extravagance, and, no doubt I had the lion's share of blame; but more of minerals hereafter.

Abbotsford is only twelve miles distant from Jedburgh, and my father-in-law, Dr. Somerville, and Sir Walter Scott had been intimate friends for many years, indeed through life. The house at Abbotsford was at first a mere cottage, on the banks of the Tweed; my brother-in-law, Samuel, had a villa adjacent to it, and John, Lord Somerville, had a house and property on the opposite bank of the river, to which he came every spring for salmon fishing. He was a handsome, agreeable man, had been educated in England, and as he thought he should never live in Scotland, he sold the family estate of Drum, within five miles of Edinburgh, which he afterwards regretted, and bought the property on the Tweed he then inhabited.

There was great intimacy between the three families, and the society was often enlivened by Adam Ferguson and Willie Clerk, whom we had met with at Raith. I shall never forget the charm of this little society, especially the supper-parties at Abbotsford, when Scott was in the highest glee, telling amusing tales, ancient legends, ghost and witch stories. Then Adam Ferguson would sing the "Laird of Cockpen," and other comic songs, and Willie Clerk amused us with his dry wit. When it was time to go away all rose, and, standing hand-in-hand round the table, Scott taking the lead, we sang in full chorus,

Weel may we a' be,
Ill may we never see;
Health to the king
And the gude companie.

At that time no one knew who was the author of the Waverley Novels. There was much speculation and curiosity on the subject. While talking about one which had just been published, my son Woronzow said, "I knew all these stories long ago, for Mr. Scott writes on the dinner-table. When he has finished, he puts the green-cloth with the papers in a corner of the dining-room; and when he goes out, Charlie Scott and I read the stories." My son's tutor was the original of Dominie Sampson in "Guy Mannering." The "Memorie of the Somervilles" was edited by Walter Scott, from an ancient and very quaint manuscript found in the archives of the family, and from this he takes passages which he could not have found elsewhere. Although the work was printed it was never published, but copies were distributed to the different members of the family. One was of course given to my husband.

The Burning of the Water, so well described by Walter Scott in "Redgauntlet," we often witnessed. The illumination of the banks of the river, the activity of the men striking the salmon with the "leisters," and the shouting of the people when a fish was struck, was an animated, and picturesque, but cruel scene.

Sophia Scott, afterwards married to Mr. Lockhart, editor of the "Quarterly Review," was the only one of Sir Walter's family who had talent. She was not pretty, but remarkably engaging and agreeable, and possessed her father's joyous disposition as well as his memory and fondness for ancient Border legends and poetry. Like him, she was thoroughly alive to peculiarities of character, and laughed at them good-naturedly. She was not a musician, had little voice, but she sang Scotch songs and translations from the Gaelic with, or without, harp accompaniment; the serious songs with so much expression, and the merry ones with so much spirit, that she charmed everybody. The death of her brothers and of her father, to whom she was devotedly attached, cast a shade over the latter part of her life. Mr. Lockhart was clever and an able writer, but he was too sarcastic to be quite agreeable; however, we were always on the most friendly terms. He was of a Lanarkshire family and distantly related to Somerville. After the death of his wife and sons, Lockhart fell into bad health and lost much of his asperity.

Scott was ordered to go abroad for health and relaxation. Somerville and I happened to be at the seaport where he embarked, and we went to take leave of him. He kissed me, and said, "Farewell, my dear; I am going to die abroad like other British novelists." Happy would it have been if God had so willed it,[7] for he returned completely broken down, and his hopes blighted. In a few years his only remaining descendant was a grand-daughter, the only surviving child of Mrs. Lockhart, Charlotte who married Mr. James Hope, and soon died, leaving an only daughter, now the last descendant of Sir Walter Scott. Thus the "Merry, merry days that I have seen," ended very sadly.

When at Jedburgh, I never failed to visit James Veitch, who was Laird of Inchbonny, a small property beautifully situated in the valley of the Jed, at a short distance from the manse. He was a plough-wright, a hard-working man, but of rare genius, who taught himself mathematics and astronomy in the evenings with wonderful success, for he knew the motions of the planets, calculated eclipses and occultations, was versed in various scientific subjects, and made excellent telescopes, of which I bought a very small one; it was the only one I ever possessed. Veitch was handsome, with a singularly fine bald forehead and piercing eyes, that quite looked through one. He was perfectly aware of his talents, shrewd, and sarcastic. His fame had spread, and he had many visits, of which he was impatient, as it wasted his time. He complained especially of those from ladies not much skilled in science, saying, "What should they do but ask silly questions, when they spend their lives in doing naething but spatting muslin?" Veitch was strictly religious and conscientious, observing the Sabbath day with great solemnity; and I had the impression that he was stern to his wife, who seemed to be a person of intelligence, for I remember seeing her come from the washing-tub to point out the planet Venus while it was still daylight.

The return of Halley's comet, in 1835, exactly at the computed time, was a great astronomical event, as it was the first comet of long period clearly proved to belong to our system. I was asked by Mr. John Murray to write an article on the subject for the "Quarterly Review." After it was published, I received a letter from James Veitch, reproaching me for having mentioned that a peasant in Hungary was the first to see Halley's comet, and for having omitted to say that, "a peasant at Inchbonny was the first to see the comet of 1811, the greatest that had appeared for a century." I regretted, on receiving this letter, that I either had not known, or had forgotten the circumstance. Veitch has been long dead, but I avail myself of this opportunity of making the amende honorable to a man of great mental power and acquirements who had struggled through difficulties, unaided, as I have done myself.

LETTER FROM JAMES VEITCH TO MRS. SOMERVILLE.

Inchbonny, 12th October, 1836.
Dear Madam,

I saw in the Quarterly review for December 1885 page 216 that the comet 1682 was discovered by a Peasent, George Palitzch residing in the neighbourhood of Dresden on the 25th of December 1758 with a small Telescope. But no mention is made of the Peasent at Inchbonny who first discovered the beautiful comet 1811. You will remember when Dr. Wollaston was at Inchbonny I put a difficult question to him that I could not solve about the focal distance of optic glasses when the Dr. got into a passion and said: Had he problems in his pocket ready to pull out in every occasion? and with an angry look at me said, You pretend to be the first that discovered the comet altho' it has been looked for by men of science for some time back. Now I never heard of such a thing and you will perhaps know something about it as the Dr. would not be mistaken. After we got acquainted, the Dr. was a warm friend of mine and I have often regretted that I had not improved the opportunity I had when he was here on many things he was master off. What ever others had known or expected I knew nothing about, But I know this, that on the 27th of August 1811 I first saw it in the NNW. part of the Heavens nigh the star marked 26 on the shoulder of the little Lion and continued tracing its path among the fixed stars untill it disappeared and it was generally admitted that I had discovered it four days before any other person in Britain. However Mr. Thomas Dick on the Diffusion of Knowledge page 101 and 102 has made the following observation 'The splendid comet which appeared in our hemisphere in 1811 was first discovered in this country by a sawer. The name of this Gentleman is Mr. Veitch and I believe he resides in the neighbourhood of Kelso who with a Reflecting telescope of his own construction and from his sawpit as an observatory, descried that celestial visitant before it had been noticed by any other astronomer in North Britain.' A strange story—a sawer and a gentleman; and what is stranger still Mr. Baily would not have any place but the sawpit for his observatory on the 15th May last. I am sorry to say with all the improvement and learning that we can boast of in the present day Halley's comet the predictions have not been fulfilled, either with respect to time or place. Thus on the 10 October, at 50 minutes past 5 in the evening the Right ascension of the comet was 163° 37', with 63° 38' of north declination but by the nautical almanac for the 10 October its right ascension ought to have been 225° 2' 6, and its declination 29° 33'. Hence the difference is no less than 61° in Right ascension and 34° in declination. When you have time, write me.

Dear Madam, I remain,
Yours sincerely,
James Veitch.

Sir David Brewster was many years younger than James Veitch; in his early years he assisted his father in teaching the parish-school at Jedburgh, and in the evenings he went to Inchbonny to study astronomy with James Veitch, who always called him Davie. They were as much puzzled about the meaning of the word parallax as I had been with regard to the word algebra, and only learnt what it meant when Brewster went to study for the kirk in Edinburgh. They were both very devout; nevertheless, Brewster soon gave up the kirk for science, and he devoted himself especially to optics, in which he made so many discoveries. Sir David was of ordinary height, with fair or sandy-coloured hair and blue eyes. He was by no means good-looking, yet with a very pleasant, amiable expression; in conversation he was cheerful and agreeable when quite at ease, but of a timid, nervous, and irritable temperament, often at war with his fellow-philosophers upon disputed subjects, and extremely jealous upon priority of discovery. I was much indebted to Sir David, for he reviewed my book on the "Connexion of the Physical Sciences," in the April number of the "Edinburgh Review" for 1834, and the "Physical Geography" in the April number of the "North British Review," both favourably.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] Sir Walter died Sept. 21, 1832, in the presence of his two sons and two daughters.

CHAPTER VII.

LIFE IN HANOVER SQUARE—VISIT TO FRANCE—ARAGO—CUVIER—ROME.

My father was appointed, in 1816, a member of the Army Medical Board, and it became necessary for him to reside in London. He and my mother accordingly wished farewell to Scotland, and proceeded to take up their residence in Hanover Square. My mother preserved the following recollections of this journey:—

On our way we stopped a day at Birmingham, on purpose to see Watt and Boulton's manufactory of steam engines at Soho. Mr. Boulton showed us everything. The engines, some in action, although beautifully smooth, showed a power that was almost fearful. Since these early forms of the steam engine I have lived to see this all but omnipotent instrument change the locomotion of the whole civilized world by sea and by land.

Soon after our arrival in London we became acquainted with the illustrious family of the Herschels, through the kindness of our friend Professor Wallace, for it was by his arrangement that we spent a day with Sir William and Lady Herschel, at Slough. Nothing could exceed the kindness of Sir William. He made us examine his celebrated telescopes, and explained their mechanism; and he showed us the manuscripts which recorded the numerous astronomical discoveries he had made. They were all arranged in the most perfect order, as was also his musical library, for that great genius was an excellent musician. Unfortunately, his sister, Miss Caroline Herschel, who shared in the talents of the family, was abroad, but his son, afterwards Sir John, my dear friend for many years, was at home, quite a youth. It would be difficult to name a branch of the physical sciences which he has not enriched by important discoveries. He has ever been a dear and valued friend to me, whose advice and criticism I gratefully acknowledge.

I took lessons twice a week from Mr. Glover, who painted landscapes very prettily, and I liked him on account of his kindness to animals, especially birds, which he tamed so that they flew before him when he walked, or else sat on the trees, and returned to him when he whistled. I regret now that I ever resumed my habit of painting in oil; water-colours are much better suited to an amateur, but as I had never seen any that were good, I was not aware of their beauty.

I also took lessons in mineralogy from Mrs. Lowry, a Jewess, the wife of an eminent line engraver, who had a large collection of minerals, and in the evening Somerville and I amused ourselves with our own, which were not numerous.

Our house in Hanover Square was within a walking distance of many of our friends, and of the Royal Institution in Albemarle Street, where I attended the lectures, and Somerville frequently went with me. The discoveries of Sir Humphry Davy made this a memorable epoch in the annals of chemical science. At this time there was much talk about the celebrated Count Rumford's steam kitchen, by which food was to be cooked at a very small expense of fuel. It was adopted by several people, and among others by Naldi, the opera singer, who invited some friends to dine the first day it was to be used. Before dinner they all went to see the new invention, but while Naldi was explaining its structure, it exploded and killed him on the spot. By this sad accident his daughter, a pretty girl and a good singer, was left destitute. A numerously-attended concert was given for her benefit, at which Somerville and I were present. She was soon after engaged to sing in Paris, but ultimately married the Comte de Sparre, a French gentleman, and left the stage.

When MM. Arago and Biot came to England to continue the French arc of the meridian through Great Britain, they were warmly received by the scientific men in London, and we were always invited to meet them by those whom we knew. They had been told of my turn for science, and that I had read the works of La Place. Biot expressed his surprise at my youth.

One summer Somerville proposed to make a tour in Switzerland, so we set off, and on arriving at Chantilly we were told that we might see the château upon giving our cards to the doorkeeper. On reading our name, Mademoiselle de Rohan came to meet us, saying that she had been at school in England with a sister of Lord Somerville's, and was glad to see any of the family. She presented us to the Prince de Condé, a fine-looking old man, who received us very courteously, and sent the lord-in-waiting to show us the grounds, and especially the stables, the only part of the castle left in its regal magnificence after the Revolution. The Prince and the gentleman who accompanied us wore a gaudy uniform like a livery, which we were told was the Chantilly uniform, and that at each palace belonging to the Prince there was a different uniform worn by him and his court.

At Paris we were received with the kindest hospitality by M. and Mme. Arago. I liked her much, she was so gentle and ladylike; he was tall and good-looking, with an animated countenance and black eyes. His character was noble, generous, and singularly energetic; his manners lively and even gay. He was a man of very general information, and, from his excitable temperament, he entered as ardently into the politics and passing events of the time as into science, in which few had more extensive knowledge. On this account I thought his conversation more brilliant than that of any of the French savants with whom I was acquainted. They were living at the Observatory, and M. Arago showed me all the instruments of that magnificent establishment in the minutest detail, which was highly interesting at the time, and proved more useful to me than I was aware of. M. Arago made us acquainted with the Marquis de la Place, and the Marquise, who was quite an élégante. The Marquis was not tall, but thin, upright, and rather formal. He was distinguished in his manners, and I thought there was a little of the courtier in them, perhaps from having been so much at the court of the Emperor Napoleon, who had the highest regard for him. Though incomparably superior to Arago in mathematics and astronomical science, he was inferior to him in general acquirements, so that his conversation was less varied and popular. We were invited to go early and spend a day with them at Arcueil, where they had a country house. M. Arago had told M. de la Place that I had read the "Mécanique Céleste," so we had a great deal of conversation about astronomy and the calculus, and he gave me a copy of his "Système du Monde," with his inscription, which pleased me exceedingly. I spoke French very badly, but I was less at a loss on scientific subjects, because almost all my books on science were in French. The party at dinner consisted of MM. Biot, Arago, Bouvard, and Poisson. I sat next M. de la Place, who was exceedingly kind and attentive. In such an assemblage of philosophers I expected a very grave and learned conversation. But not at all! Everyone talked in a gay, animated, and loud key, especially M. Poisson, who had all the vivacity of a Frenchman. Madame Biot, from whom we received the greatest attention, made a party on purpose, as she said, to show us, "les personnes distinguées." Madame Biot was a well-educated woman, and had made a translation from the German of a work, which was published under the name of her husband. The dinner was very good, and Madame Biot was at great pains in placing every one. Those present were Monsieur and Madame Arago, Monsieur and Madame Poisson, who had only been married the day before, and Baron Humboldt. The conversation was lively and entertaining.

The consulate and empire of the first Napoleon was the most brilliant period of physical astronomy in France. La Grange, who proved the stability of the solar system, Laplace, Biot, Arago, Bouvard, and afterwards Poinsot, formed a perfect constellation of undying names; yet the French had been for many years inferior to the English in practical astronomy. The observations made at Greenwich by Bradley, Maskelyne, and Pond, have been so admirably continued under the direction of the present astronomer-royal, Mr. Airy, the first practical astronomer in Europe, that they have furnished data for calculating the astronomical tables both in France and England.

The theatre was at this time very brilliant in Paris. We saw Talma, who was considered to be the first tragedian of the age in the character of Tancrède. I admired the skill with which he overcame the disagreeable effect which the rhyme of the French tragedies has always had on me. Notwithstanding his personal advantages, I thought him a great artist, though inferior to John Kemble. I am afraid my admiration of Shakespeare, my want of sympathy with the artificial style of French tragedy, and perhaps my youthful remembrance of our great tragedian Mrs. Siddons, made me unjust to Mademoiselle Duchênois, who, although ugly, was certainly an excellent actress and a favourite of the public. I was so fond of the theatre that I enjoyed comedy quite as much as tragedy, and was delighted with Mademoiselle Mars, whom we saw in Tartuffe. Some years later I saw her again, when, although an old woman, she still appeared handsome and young upon the stage, and was as graceful and lively as ever.

Soon after our dinner party at Arcueil, we went to pay a morning visit to Madame de la Place. It was late in the day; but she received us in bed elegantly dressed. I think the curtains were of muslin with some gold ornaments, and the coverlet was of rich silk and gold. It was the first time that I had ever seen a lady receive in that manner. Madame Laplace was lively and agreeable; I liked her very much.

We spent a most entertaining day with M. and Madame Cuvier at the Jardin des Plantes, and saw the Museum, and everything in that celebrated establishment. On returning to the house, we found several people had come to spend the evening, and the conversation was carried on with a good deal of spirit; the Countess Albrizzi, a Venetian lady, of high acquirements, joined in it with considerable talent and animation. Cuvier had a very remarkable countenance, not handsome, but agreeable, and his manner was pleasing and modest, and his conversation very interesting. Madame de Staël having died lately, was much discussed. She was much praised for her good-nature, and for the brilliancy of her conversation. They agreed, that the energy of her character, not old age, had worn her out. Cuvier said, the force of her imagination misled her judgment, and made her see things in a light different from all the world. As a proof of this, he mentioned that she makes Corinne lean on a marble lion which is on a tomb in St. Peter's, at Rome, more than twenty feet high. Education was very much discussed. Cuvier said, that when he was sent to inspect the schools at Bordeaux and Marseilles, he found very few of the scholars who could perform a simple calculation in arithmetic; as to science, history, or literature, they were unknown, and the names of the most celebrated French philosophers, famed in other countries, were utterly unknown to those who lived in the provinces. M. Biot had written home, that he had found in Aberdeen not one alone, but many, who perfectly understood the object of his journey, and were competent to converse with him on the subject. Cuvier said such a circumstance constituted one of the striking differences between France and England; for in France science was highly cultivated, but confined to the capital. It was at M. Cuvier's that I first met Mr. Pentland, who made a series of physical and geological observations on the Andes of Peru. I was residing in Italy when I published my "Physical Geography" and Mr. Pentland[8] kindly undertook to carry the book through the press for me. From that time he has been a steady friend, ever ready to get me information, books, or anything I wanted. We became acquainted also with M. Gay-Lussac, who lived in the Jardin des Plantes, and with Baron Larrey, who had been at the head of the medical department of the army in Egypt under the first Napoleon.

At Paris I equipped myself in proper dresses, and we proceeded by Fontainebleau to Geneva, where we found Dr. Marcet, with whom my husband had already been acquainted in London. I, for the first time, met Mrs. Marcet, with whom I have ever lived on terms of affectionate friendship. So many books have now been published for young people, that no one at this time can duly estimate the importance of Mrs. Marcet's scientific works. To them is partly owing that higher intellectual education now beginning to prevail among the better classes in Britain. They produced a great sensation, and went through many editions. Her "Conversations on Chemistry," first opened out to Faraday's mind that field of science in which he became so illustrious, and at the height of his fame he always mentioned Mrs. Marcet with deep reverence.

Through these kind friends we became acquainted with Professors De Candolle, Prevost, and De la Rive. Other distinguished men were also presented to us; among these was Mr. Sismondi, author of the "History of the Italian Republics." Madame Sismondi was a Miss Allen, of a family with whom we were very intimate.

Some time after her return to England, my mother, desirous of continuing the study of botany, in which she had already attained considerable proficiency, wrote to M. De Candolle, asking his advice, and he sent her the following reply:—

LETTER FROM M. DE CANDOLLE TO MRS. SOMERVILLE.

Londres, 5 Juin, 1819.

Vous avez passé les premières difficultés de l'étude des plantes et vous me faites l'honneur de me consulter sur les moyens d'aller en avant; connaissant votre goût et votre talent pour les sciences les plus relevées je ne craindrai point de vous engager à sortir de la Botanique élémentaire et à vous élever aux considérations et aux études qui en font une science susceptible d'idées générales, d'applications aux choses utiles et de liaison avec les autres branches des connaissances humaines. Pour cela il faut étudier non plus seulement la nomenclature et l'échafaudage artificiel qui la soutient, mais les rapports des plantes entre elles et avec les élémens extérieurs, ou en d'autres termes, la classification naturelle et la Physiologie.

Pour l'un et l'autre de ces branches de la science il est nécessaire en premier lieu de se familiariser avec la structure des plantes considérée dans leur caractère exacte. Vous trouverez un précis abrégé de ces caractères dans le 1^er vol. de la Flore française; vous la trouverez plus développé et accompagné de planches dans les Elémens de Botanique de Michel. Quant à la structure du fruit qui est un des points les plus difficiles et les plus importans, vous allez avoir un bon ouvrage traduit et augmenté par un de vos jeunes et habiles compatriotes, Mr. Lindley—c'est l'analyse du fruit de M. Richard. La traduction vaudra mieux que l'original. Outre ces lectures, ce qui vous apprendra surtout la structure des plantes, c'est de les analyser et de les décrire vous-même d'après les termes techniques; ce travail deviendrait pénible et inutile à faire sur un grand nombre de plantes, et il vaut mieux ne le faire que sur un très petit nombre d'espèces choisies dans des classes très distinctes. Quelques descriptions faites aussi complètes qu'il vous sera possible vous apprendra plus que tous les livres.

Dès que vous connaîtrez bien les organes et concurremment avec cette étude vous devrez chercher à prendre une idée de la classification naturelle. Je crains de vous paraître présomptueux en vous engageant à lire d'abord sous ce point de vue ma Théorie élémentaire. Après ces études ou à peu près en même temps pour profiter de la saison, vous ferez bien de rapporter aux ordres naturels toutes les plantes que vous aurez recueillies. La lecture des caractères des familles faites la plante à la main et l'acte de ranger vos plantes en familles vous feront connaître par théorie et par pratique ces groupes naturels. Je vous engage dans cette étude, surtout en le commencement, à ne donner que peu d'attention au système général qui lie les familles, mais beaucoup à la connaissance de la physionomie qui est propre à chacune d'elles. Sous ce point de vue vous pourrez trouver quelque intérêt à lire—1° les Tableaux de la Nature de M. de Humboldt; 2° mon essai sur les propriétés des plantes comparées avec leurs formes extérieures; 3° les remarques sur la géographie botanique de la Nouvelle Hollande et de l'Afrique, insérés par M. Robt. Brown à la fin du voyage de Finders et de l'expédition au Congo.

Quant à l'étude de la Physiologie ou de la connaissance des végétaux considérés comme êtres vivans, je vous engage à lire les ouvrages dans l'ordre suivant: Philibert, Elémens de Bot. et de Phys., 3 vols.; la 2^de partie des principes élémentaires de la Bot. de la Flore française. Vous trouverez la partie anatomique dans l'ouvrage de Mirbel; la partie chimique dans les recherches chimiques sur la Veget. de T. de Saussure; la partie statique dans la statique des végétaux de Hales, &c. &c. Mais je vous engage surtout à voir par vous-même les plantes à tous leurs ages, à suivre leur végétation, à les décrire en détail, en un mot à vivre avec elles plus qu'avec les livres.

Je désire, madame, que ces conseils puissent vous engager à suivre l'étude des plantes sous cette direction qui je crois en relève beaucoup l'importance et l'intérêt. Je m'estimerai heureux si en vous l'indiquant je puis concourir à vos succès futures et à vous initier dans une étude que j'ai toujours regardé comme une de celles qui peut le plus contribuer au bonheur journalier.

Je vous prie d'agréer mes hommages empressés.

De Candolle.

We had made the ordinary short tour through Switzerland, and had arrived at Lausanne on our way home, when I was taken ill with a severe fever which detained us there for many weeks. I shall never forget the kindness I received from two Miss Barclays, Quaker ladies, and a Miss Fotheringham, who, on hearing of my illness, came and sat up alternate nights with me, as if I had been their sister.

The winter was now fast approaching, and Somerville thought that in my weak state a warm climate was necessary; so we arranged with our friends, the Miss Barclays, to pass the Simplon together. We parted company at Milan, but we renewed our friendship in London.

We went to Monza, and saw the iron crown; and there I found the Magnolia grandiflora, which hitherto I had only known as a greenhouse plant, rising almost into a forest tree.

At Venice we renewed our acquaintance with the Countess Albrizzi, who received every evening. It was at these receptions that we saw Lord Byron, but he would not make the acquaintance of any English people at that time. When he came into the room I did not perceive his lameness, and thought him strikingly like my brother Henry, who was remarkably handsome. I said to Somerville, "Is Lord Byron like anyone you know?" "Your brother Henry, decidedly." Lord Broughton, then Sir John Cam Hobhouse, was also present.

At Florence, I was presented to the Countess of Albany, widow of Prince Charles Edward Stuart the Pretender. She was then supposed to be married to Alfieri the poet, and had a kind of state reception every evening. I did not like her, and never went again. Her manner was proud and insolent. "So you don't speak Italian; you must have had a very bad education, for Miss Clephane Maclane there [who was close by] speaks both French and Italian perfectly." So saying, she turned away, and never addressed another word to me. That evening I recognised in Countess Moretti my old friend Agnes Bonar. Moretti was of good family; but, having been banished from home for political opinions, he taught the guitar in London for bread, and an attachment was formed between him and his pupil. After the murder of her parents, they were both persecuted with the most unrelenting cruelty by her brother. They escaped to Milan where they were married.

I was still a young woman; but I thought myself too old to learn to speak a foreign language, consequently I did not try. I spoke French badly; and now, after several years' residence in Italy, although I can carry on a conversation fluently in Italian, I do not speak it well.

When my mother first went abroad, she had no fluency in talking French, although she was well acquainted with the literature. To show how, at every period of her life, she missed no opportunity of acquiring information or improvement, I may mention that many years after, when we were spending a summer in Siena, where the language is spoken with great purity and elegance, she engaged a lady to converse in Italian with her for a couple of hours daily. By this means she very soon became perfectly familiar with the language, and could keep up conversation in Italian without difficulty. She never cared to write in any language but English. Her style has been reckoned particularly clear and good, and she was complimented on it by various competent judges, although she herself was always diffident about her writings, saying she was only a self-taught, uneducated Scotchwoman, and feared to use Scotch idioms inadvertently. In speaking she had a very decided but pleasant Scotch accent, and when aroused and excited, would often unconsciously use not only native idioms, but quaint old Scotch words. Her voice was soft and low, and her manner earnest.

On our way to Rome, where we spent the winter of 1817, it was startling to see the fine church of Santa Maria degli Angeli, below Assisi, cut in two; half of the church and half of the dome above it were still entire; the rest had been thrown down by the earthquake which had destroyed the neighbouring town of Foligno, and committed such ravages in this part of Umbria.

At that time I might have been pardoned if I had described St Peter's, the Vatican, and the innumerable treasures of art and antiquity at Rome; but now that they are so well known it would be ridiculous and superfluous. Here I gained a little more knowledge about pictures; but I preferred sculpture, partly from the noble specimens of Greek art I saw in Paris and Rome, and partly because I was such an enthusiast about the language and everything belonging to ancient Greece. During this journey I was highly gratified, for we made the acquaintance of Thorwaldsen and Canova. Canova was gentle and amiable, with a beautiful countenance, and was an artist of great reputation. Thorwaldsen had a noble and striking appearance, and had more power and originality than Canova. His bas-reliefs were greatly admired. I saw the one he made of Night in the house of an English lady, who had a talent for modelling, and was said to be attached to him. We were presented to Pope Pius the Seventh; a handsome, gentlemanly, and amiable old man. He received us in a summer-house in the garden of the Vatican. He was sitting on a sofa, and made me sit beside him. His manners were simple and very gracious; he spoke freely of what he had suffered in France. He said, "God forbid that he should bear ill-will to any one; but the journey and the cold were trying to an old man, and he was glad to return to a warm climate and to his own country." When we took leave, he said to me, "Though a Protestant, you will be none the worse for an old man's blessing." Pius the Seventh was loved and respected; the people knelt to him as he passed. Many years afterwards we were presented to Gregory the Sixteenth, a very common-looking man, forming a great contrast to Pius the Seventh.

I heard more good music during this first visit to Rome than I ever did after; for besides that usual in St. Peter's, there was an Academia every week, where Marcello's Psalms were sung in concert by a number of male voices, besides other concerts, private and public. We did not make the acquaintance of any of the Roman families at this time; but we saw Pauline Borghese, sister of the Emperor Napoleon, so celebrated for her beauty, walking on the Pincio every afternoon. Our great geologist, Sir Roderick Murchison, with his wife, were among the English residents at Rome. At that time he hardly knew one stone from another. He had been an officer in the Dragoons, an excellent horseman, and a keen fox-hunter. Lady Murchison,—an amiable and accomplished woman, with solid acquirements which few ladies at that time possessed—had taken to the study of geology; and soon after her husband began that career which has rendered him the first geologist of our country. It was then that a friendship began between them and us, which will only end with life. Mrs. Fairfax, of Gilling Castle, and her two handsome daughters were also at Rome. She was my namesake—Mary Fairfax—and my valued friend till her death. Now, alas! many of these friends are gone.

There were such troops of brigands in the Papal States, that it was considered unsafe to go outside the gates of Rome. They carried off people to the mountains, and kept them till ransomed; sometimes even mutilated them, as they do at the present day in the kingdom of Naples. Lucien Bonaparte made a narrow escape from being carried off from his villa, Villa Ruffinella, near Frascati. When it could be proved that brigands had committed murder, they were confined in prisons in the Maremma, at Campo Morto, where fever prevails, and where they were supposed to die of malaria. I saw Gasperone, the chief of a famous band, in a prison at Civita Vecchia; he was said to be a relative of Cardinal Antonelli, both coming from the brigand village of Sonnino, in the Volscian mountains. In going to Naples our friends advised us to take a guard of soldiers; but these were suspected of being as bad, and in league with the brigands. So we travelled post without them; and though I foolishly insisted on going round by the ruins of ancient Capua, which was considered very unsafe, we arrived at Naples without any encounter. Here we met with the son and daughter of Mr. Smith, of Norwich, a celebrated leader in the anti-slavery question. This was a bond of interest between his family and me; for when I was a girl I took the anti-slavery cause so warmly to heart that I would not take sugar in my tea, or indeed taste anything with sugar in it. I was not singular in this, for my cousins and many of my acquaintances came to the same resolution. How long we kept it I do not remember. Patty Smith and I became great friends, and I knew her sisters; but only remember her niece Florence Nightingale as a very little child. My friend Patty was liberal in her opinions, witty, original, an excellent horsewoman, and drew cleverly; but from bad health she was peculiar in all her habits. She was a good judge of art. Her father had a valuable collection of pictures of the ancient masters; and I learnt much from her with regard to paintings and style in drawing. We went to see everything in Naples and its environs together, and she accompanied Somerville and me in an expedition to Pæstum, where we made sketches of the temples. At Naples we bought a beautiful cork model of the Temple of Neptune, which was placed on our mineral cabinet on our return to London. A lady who came to pay me a morning visit asked Somerville what it was; and when he told her, she said, "How dreadful it is to think that all the people who worshipped in that temple are in eternal misery, because they did not believe in our Saviour." Somerville asked, "How could they believe in Christ when He was not born till many centuries after?" I am sure she thought it was all the same.