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 worldin 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 Iwas 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. Shepainted 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 thething 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 forthe 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, wereof 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 tomake 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 basketfull 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 neverheard 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 afterwardsmarried 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 thatif 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.
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 thatif 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 enteredmy 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.
[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.
[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.
[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.
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 noone 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 onewith 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 mybed 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 waseerie, 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 onboth 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 waseeriewhen 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, letit 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. Themen 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 tosee 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 greatscarcity 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.
[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.
[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.
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 householdlinen. 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.My dear Mrs. Somerville,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 donerespecting 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.
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 donerespecting 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 ridewith 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 asI 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 theEdinburgh Review; it was planned and conducted withconsummate 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 theReview, 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 firstbecame 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.