The Last Summers and Winters
“0 how canst thou renounce the boundless store
Of charms which Nature to her votary yields!
The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,
The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields;
All that the genial ray of morning gilds,
And all that echoes to the song of even,
All that the mountain’s sheltering bosom shields,
And all the dread magnificence of Heaven,
0 how canst thou renounce and hope to be forgiven!”
Beattie.
“‘While other men’s minds seemed closing up, his (Mr Roberts’s, the biographer of Hannah More) day by day unclosed to the charming details of natural history. Very appropriately might the words of Leighton, often quoted by him, be applied to his enjoyments of the objects of creation, that ’ seeing and tasting God in them, he had a supernatural delight in natural things.’ *
At an early period of his life Mr Wilson felt depressed by the want of a vocation. He had quitted the writer’s office without any intention of following out the law; and, with broken health, and no profession, it almost looked as if existence would pass idly and ingloriously away. But, by cultivating those tastes and affinities with which the Author of his being had endowed him, he soon created a calling for himself. So ample and so practical was his acquaintance with all departments of natural history, and so notorious were his obligingness and courtesy, that he was resorted to by young and old of his countrymen in quest of information; whilst, like Broderip and Buckland, the fascination of his picturesque and sprightly pen attracted multitudes of readers, who cared nothing for zoology, and who (as he himself would have said) could scarcely distinguish a bee from a bison. The consequence was that, as already mentioned, his occupations increased from year to year; and, probably, no period was so busy or so happy as that closing lustrum of which we are now to give some account. Mxich of his time was generously devoted to questions of great economical importance, such as the artificial breeding of salmon, and the encouragement and right regulation of the cod and herring fisheries. When vacancies occurred in Scottish jprofessorships of natural science, he was involved in extensive correspondence, both as the friend of so many men of science, and as one in whose judgment and impartiality the patrons had confidence; and the business of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, superadded to the duties of his eldership, and attendance on sundry committees, often left him scant leisure for those literary engagements which multiplied upon him as one of the most popular expounders of a popular science.
Of his winter work and summer recreations some hints will be found in the following extracts from his correspondence: —
TO MISS TAYLOR.
“Woodville, Edinburgh, 18th June 1851.” I had great pleasure in hearing of you t’other day, through your note to Marianne, which was kindly sent, with other domestic despatches, to Luib, in the central Highlands of Perthshire, about seven miles beyond Killin. My brother the Professor had been unwell throughout the spring; and having been advised a change of air, he refused to take it unless n family party was made to accompany him. So Henrietta and myself, and his daughter, Mrs Sheriff Gordon, agreed to go. He afterwards wrote to his daughter, Mrs Terrier, and her husband, to both his sons, and to Mr Glassford Bell and his daughter; and so the small select family swelled into a much larger one than was expected. We went by Glasgow, and then steamed up Loch Lomond to a station at the head of that loch called Inverarnan; from whence, by Glen Falloch, we drove through a grand wild Highland country, some fourteen miles, to Luib, on the banks of the Dochart. The absurd part of it was, and for a time worse than absurd, that the Professor’s carpet-bag, containing all his clothes, all his money, and all his fishing-tackle, had been taken out of the railway van by mistake somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow; so the first night in Glasgow was one of discontent. We telegraphed for the bag in vain next morning; — there was no word of it. The Professor was with difficulty persuaded to go with us as far as the head of Loch Lomond, Sheriff Bell offering to go that length and return with him to Glasgow. This they did; and the bag being eventually recovered, my brother joined us at Luib in a day or two. But for a time I was in the heart of the Highlands, apparently for no purpose, having left home at some inconvenience to myself for the sake of another person, that person, meanwhile not being one of the party at all. We had broken weather on the whole, and one or two cold and stormy days which covered all the summits of the great mountains with snow, and accorded well enough with the desolate grandeur of the district, but scarcely suited perambulation on the part of the ladies, or even of elderly gentlemen, like certain of the party. However, the thing went off well. There was some enjoyment out of doors, and a good deal of idle fun and cheerfulness within. We found char in Loch Dochart of which I was not previously aware. Caught lots of trout, and a couple of salmon weighing about forty-five pounds the two. Either of them would have pulled a Westmoreland angler into the water —
‘Poor is the triumph o’er the timid parr.’
Henrietta and I walked one day down to Killin and back, and explored the beauties, which are great and manifold, of the head of Loch Tay. We returned as we went, via Loch Lomond, &c. I think my brother better on the whole; but when in town he scarcely ever leaves the house, and this confinement is bad for him. There are several suburban places close at hand in the occupation of members of his own family, where he would be welcome; but he will not move. Your men of genius are not always reasonable creatures in their everyday doings; and there would be little harm in this, if they would allow themselves to be guided by the weaker vessels. But they are often very obstinate in their perversities, and won’t ’ take a bidding.’ I should apologise for boring you with all this; but one naturally writes about what is uppermost in mind.
“The Rev. Edward Jefferies leaves Grasmere for Sweden and Norway early in July. There is a kind of Scandinavian fever in the country this year, in spite of the glittering splendours of the Crystal Palace. At least, a good many people whom I know are going to the far North. Professor Forbes was with me yesterday, wishing me to start with him in a few days to Hull, and from thence by steam-packet to Christiania. The coast scenery, at all events, is now very accessible, as a Norwegian steamer goes close along shore every week or two from Christiansand as far north as Hammerfest, near the North Cape, where one may see the sun at midnight. The funny thing is, that in that country you will not see the sun at all in the day-time for a while, as the eclipse is total there. This is what takes a good many of our philosophers away from their wives and families; but Professor Forbes is desirous also to extend his knowledge of the ice-world, already great, by exploring the Scandinavian glaciers, and the grooves upon the surface of the rocks. Asthma and increase of years, laziness, rheumatism, and decrease of cash, debar my going so far from home; although I confess I still cherish the hope of finding myself screened from the ‘garish eye of night’ within the sombre shadows of a northern fiord.”
Like all the world he went to London in the summer of 185], and enjoyed it all the more that it was a sight-seeing visit, complicated by no business. To his quiet observant eye there was in London a boundless treat; but in lieu of his own record, which on this occasion was very brief, we may give the following reminiscences which have been kindly communicated by his ardent admirer and quondam fellow-townsman, Adam White. Esq.: —
“Whenever Mr Wilson came to town he called on me. After Museum hours, I met him, and we had two or three rare runs between the hours of four and ten. On one occasion, when he was staying at Craven Street Hotel, I dined with him, and then took the boat from Hungerford Stairs to Greenwich. He was a delightful companion; but for a time he listened to me as I pointed out one object after another, from distant Lambeth with its Lollard tower, and old Lambeth Church, with Tradescant’s tomb, dear to naturalists, in its churchyard, to the Temple Gardens, and the crowded city churches, Komaine’s among the rest, not very conspicuous as we sail under Blackfriars’ Bridge, and Barnaul’s, whose facetious fun and sparkling me white’s recollections. 281
equivoque in ‘Ingoldsby ’ were well known to the brother of Christopher North; on past the Tower, with its gray oyster-plastered bastions, and through the Pool with its mazy life of ships, down to Greenwich with its noble hospital and still more noble park. He was a delightful talker. This evening his subjects were, Dun robin Castle and the Duchess; trout and salmon-fishing in Sutherland with Dr Greville, J. P. Selby, and Sir William Jardine, three Christian gentlemen like himself, and amongst his oldest and staunchest friends; and Doctors Neill and Fleming, and the Edinburgh naturalists. We got on the subject of James Hogg and William Wordsworth, and I lamented that Christopher North had never written Hogg’s biography, for it was advertised. Great man as Wordsworth was, he did not believe in biography — a striking proof this of his originality. Shakspeare and Milton, and many other great men, are known by the biography breathing in their works. Wordsworth wished no other memorial, and, excepting Paxton Hood’s enthusiastic tribute, and the unsatisfying volumes of his nephew, it would seem as if the poet were only to be made known by his works. But from Mr Wilson’s remarks, I could see that he was disappointed that the brother bard, who used to live at Elleray, and who was the first to praise in Blackwood and in all companies Wordsworth’s poetry, at a time when Jeffrey and other critics were doing their best to run it down.
had not been asked to write the life of the Rydalian ] aureate.
“Another ramble was to Highgate and Hampstead. Much delighted was he to see Mr Gillman’s house, now occupied by that good surgeon and kind man, Mr Brendon. He viewed with interest the scenes where Coleridge used to meditate and pour out the treasures of his gifted mind — the library, with its shelves now removed — the room where he usually received visitors, on one day Sir Humphrey Davy, on another Basil Montagu, or Edward Irving and Thomas Chalmers, perhaps Thomas Carlyle — the beautifully sloping garden, with its northern wall one mass of flowering shrubs, and where might be heard the nightingales as they sang in the trees near Ken Wood. With all this he was delighted, and I remember how he never deposited in the passage that unfailing stick, but took it with him from room to room. We left, and crossed the fields to Hampstead — those fields where John Linnell, the Poussin of our day, used to study, when Blake used to visit him thirty years ago; and after a view of Harrow from the Heath, we were glad to get home to Kentish Town in time for a hearty dinner- tea.
“One other excursion I remember, when we went into the City, first visiting most of Dr Johnson’s resorts. His staircase in the Temple then stood, and we went into ‘The Mitre’ and got a glass of ale, sitting in the identical angttlar recess, so cribbed and small, where he and Boswell enjoyed their talk eighty years ago or more. Each court of interest in Fleet Street we visited, including that one (Crane Court) where, in Sir Isaacs days, the Royal Society met, and where the Scottish Corporation now transacts its business. We looked into the narrow lane nearly opposite Newgate, where Goldsmith wrote the ‘Vicar of Wakefield,’ glanced at the scene of the Cock Lane ghost, and stood where the martyrs suffered near St Bartholomew’s. We finished off our peregrinations by a visit to the curious courts and involve I streets among which, almost buried, stands the old Dutch Church in Austin Friars, with its Gothic windows, sunk porch, and sun-dial, and its church-yard, where we found flourishing a fig-tree and limes, that looked fresh and delightful amidst the bricks and dust of London. No wonder that Charles Lamb loved London. Who loves it not that knows it?
“He had a pleasant face, and an eye of extreme humour, though gentle withal. Although remarkably alive to the ridiculous, or rather to the funny aspect of things and occurrences, he was the reverse of cynical. His kindness was a natural gift, welling through the glasses of his golden spectacles evermore, attracting good-will and disarming controversy; and every one came in for a share. Among the last times I saw him was at his lodging in Bloomsbury Street, as he and his niece were starting for the terminus in Euston Square. The servant handed something into the cab: he had already given her a little present of money; and he now shook hands with her, saying, ‘Good-bye, Mary. I thank you much for your kind attention.’ That was so natural to the man. His rule was, ‘Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you; ’ and from his Master he had learned to be meek, and to condescend to those of low estate.”
To the London journey of the “Exhibition year” reference is made in the commencement of the following letter: —
TO MISS TAYLOR.
“Woodville, 22c? August 1851. “What a multitude of foreigners there were in London! You who have the gift of tongues might have been well and usefully employed; but it was alarming work with others less gifted to be attacked on all sides, in palaces and picture-galleries, gardens and omnibusses, by people of unknown speech, ’ dwellers in Mesopotamia, and I know not where. But we were greatly delighted with our visit, which, however, was far too short for anything but the most superficial survey. I am glad you liked the Professor’s picture ’ by “Watson Gordon. I think it is excellent; but there was a still better hanging near it, the
POKTEAITS. 28a
portrait of a strong-featured; silvery-headed old man, one Dr Wardiaw, of Glasgow, by a west-country artist of the name of Macnee. I thought it the best portrait in the Academy Exhibition. I am happy to say that (like yourself) her most gracious Majesty the Queen was attracted by the Professor’s picture; and a person, who necessarily knew, informed me that, on leaving the Academy one day, she said, ‘I must just have one other look at my dear old man, The said old man, I regret to say, dees not seem to be gaining strength with the advance of the season; and, I confess, I am somewhat apprehensive of the effect which the anxiety and fatigue connected with the labours of his class may produce next winter. Meanwhile, he is in the south of Scotland with his eldest son, who has a farm and pleasant habitation by the banks of the Esk, some nine miles from Langholm, in the Border country.
“By the by, I am not answering your letter at all.” I never do answer letters, and hope this will be an additional reason for your writing them. I think somebody mentioned that Derwent Coleridge had been down in Westmoreland, and was staying for a time at the Knab. He seems to have taken a long time to think about it — having, if I remember rightly, been some fifteen years without seeing his poor brother. But perhaps he knew, or at least bekeved, his case to be hopeless. I have not myself seen the said Derwent for more than forty years, so I daresay there would not be much reminiscence between us. Yet I remember the last day I saw him as distinctly as I do yesterday. He wTas standing before the kitchen fire at Elleray, with bare feet upon a sandy floor, and holding a pair of wet worsted stockings close upon the grate, the said stockings sending up a cloud of steam, which he called performing a chemical experiment. I thought these words very fine, though I scarcely knew what they meant. Poor Hartley meanwhile went mouthing about, swinging his arms to and fro, and muttering to himself I know not what, but certainly quite unconscious whether his stockings were wet or dry.
“You expected, from what you heard, to be disappointed in Wordsworth’s ‘Life, I suppose it is a hard thing for a man who is not himself a poet to write the life of one who is; that is, if his doing so involved the necessity of his unfolding the inner life of one whose soul was ’ like a star that dwelt apart, Yet I think there is no harm in our having a connected narrative of the ordinary ongoings of the poet’s life, by a kindly disposed relative, who had access to an accurate knowledge of dates, localities, and other minor matters of detail. I expected nothing more than this, did not in fact desire anything more, and so have not been disappointed. The most curious thing about the book is, that it makes no mention whatever of the only critical
Wordsworth’s biography. 287
essays on the poems of Wordsworth which were influential on the public mind, of any value in themselves, or of any service to the poet. If the biographer neither knew where to find the current literature which bore upon the poet’s works, or how to refer to it when found, then, as the Americans say, he ought to. It is curious, too, that not satisfied with knowing that the name of Wordsworth is now one of the most illustrious in our country, and must continue so till Ei plish is an unknown tongue, he goes into all the drivel about the ancestry, and the old wooden Press. It was interesting enough to hear the old man himself talk even of such things as these, knowing, as we did, how he at other times communed with nature, and forgot his ancestors; but how a highly-educated gentleman like the nephew, brought up in rather a high position from his youth, and now occupying an influential and honourable station, and with a just appreciation of the now immortal memory of his great kinsman, should have troubled himself with so much twaddle, is incomprehensible. I would as soon have expected a party of noble sportsmen, pursuing the king of beasts, ’ the armed rhinoceros, or the Hyrcean tiger,’ to have turned aside to disinter a mole. The conclusion I draw from the importance attached to this affair of the Films filii filii is, that in reality the Words worths never had any ancestors. But let them now take care of themselves for a hundred years or two, and then look back, and they will see a name of which they may well be proud.
“I partly agree in what you say as to your personal acquaintance with the poet not having deepened your realisation of the poet’s mind. I had always great pleasure from my own personal intercourse with him, but it was not on account of his personal attributes, or even for the sake of any intellectual excellence then exhibited, but because I knew him to be the medium through which his Creator had willed that so many pure and elevating thoughts should be conveyed to the minds of meaner mortals by his writings. I think him a transcendent poet, not of the very highest class (Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, Milton, he may not sit with), yet altogether unequalled in our day and generation; but as regards general intellectual energy and power, force of character, range of knowledge, and other attributes which raise one man above another, I have known many his superiors. I daresay he lived too much alone for the cultivation or increase of those more discursive (I mean conversational) faculties to which I have referred, and with no one ’ near the throne; ’ and it is a bad thing, intellectually as well as otherwise, for any man to have everything his own way. On the other hand, we owe the rich treasures which he has left behind mainly to the contemplations of his solitude, and should be thankful for the same. There is no doubt that he was a great proser. It is equally certain, and more consolatory, that he was likewise a great poet.”
Towards the end of autumn he took a little trip to the Trossachs, having for his fellow-traveller his dear relative and pastor, the Rev. John Sym.
“Zlst October 1851.” On leaving Stirling, and turning our faces towards the mountains, our prospects were fearful in the extreme. We found plenty of droskies at the station, and got into one instanter, giving the word, ‘To Callander, The rain soon came down like a deluge, and we could see nothing before us but a miserable ’ drookit ’ driver, and a few yards of miry road, and on either side disconsolate hedges and damp rheumatic-looking turnips. We rubbed the panes now and then with our handkerchiefs, tried to look out at a pea-stack occasionally, and even got up a hollow, horrid sort of laugh at times, as if rejoicing in our dreadful doom. At Callander we changed horse and carriage, waiting only long enough for me to leave a hazel stick (from Ambleside) in the parlour window. By four o’clock, when we got to the Trossachs’ Inn, although there were violent gusts of cold sleety rain and wind, the air was much clearer. Ben Venue looked very imposing, with mists and showers passing rapidly along, and now and then a kind of ghastly gleam, that those who did not know better might have taken for sunshine.
“The new inn is a most extraordinary concern, more like a penitentiary, or place of punishment for evil-doers, than one of entertainment for either man or beast. It consists chiefly of turrets, and you are ushered into a little circular cell, with several windows pierced in different directions, but each window like a slit in Bridewell, being only a single narrow pane in breadth, and three panes in height. “When you sit in the middle of your cell you actually see nothing but your prison walls, and three or four narrow streaks of light. However, when you rise, and put your face quite into one of the windows, the effect is rather striking, especially that from the western slit. You have, as it were, set in a dark framework, a view of a finely broken portion of the Trossachs, a small gleaming portion of Loch Achray, and almost the whole of Ben Venue, with its great rocks rugged pastures, and gloomy hollows.
“Soon after four the rain ceased altogether, and having ordered dinner, we sallied out for an hour and a half, and had a very grand though gloomy view of our old walk through the Trossachs. The woods were in fine autumnal order, and almost glowing, though unillundnated by any western splendour. I think the sun must have gone over to America that afternoon by some other road, for stepping westward
’ seemed to me
A verj’ drizzly destiny.’
“Next morning, under a brilliant sunshine, the autumnal glories of the woods came out in full force. Crags and lichen-covered rocks, and rich moist patches of mossy verdure, scarcely seen through the umorageous screen of summer, were now distinctly visible through the clear amber-coloured foliage of the birch trees, which contrasted well with the russet oak and the darker green of the pines and hollies. Ben Venue was in all his glory, magnificently lighted up, yet deeply contrasted in light and shade, every projecting crag having its long dark shadow stretching westwards, and many cavernous hollows being still in deepest gloom; while at every step the birches were waving their golden tresses, or showering down leafy honours that emblazoned the very earth we trod on. There is no such path in California nor the Bathurst Mountains, for such is invisible to those whose greedy restless eye is searching for earthly gold.
“.... When we came to the open space of flattish ground, odorous with Myrica gale, which we had to cross occasionally on our homeward way as a nearer cut to the Macfarlanes’, we made our adventurous way to the banks of the river, which was both rolling rapidly and roaring fiercely. We then made our way up the river-side, and as we best could over the wooded knolls to the boat-house. This we achieved diligently though slowly, as the ground was often rough and the heather high. We passed several beautiful little waterfalls, and though sometimes sprawling like a pair of wild cats, and up to the eyes in ferns and bushes, we ever and anon came to some grassy platform with sheltering rock or sylvan screen, and gazed around upon the mingled majesty by which we were encompassed. Though the distance is very short, this circumambulation of every little creek and bay took us several hours. Bright as was the sunshine, several heavy showers, both of snow and rain, passed down the ravine between us and Ben Venue. We ensconced ourselves once or twice in peaty hollows among the heather when we thought the gloom was gathering, but, with exception of a little peppering now and then of dry hail that jumped just like ’ sweeties,’ we escaped entirely.
“Next morning (Thursday) was more beautiful than ever, with the additional advantage of being calm and still. There was just a gentle breathing in the woods, and a slight ripple on the waters, which, however, were bright and blue from the almost unclouded brilliancy of the neavens above. It was our last day, but as we did not require to be in Stirling till after half-past five, we had plenty of time for another walk. Having yesterday diverged from the road, we this morning took the usual path to the loch, and then proceeded onwards as before to the lofty platform station, where we gazed enamoured till the mid-day sun was at its height. Retracing our steps, though loath to go, we ascended the Penitentiary, packed up our bundle, paid our bill, and made our way to Stirling. For the sake of the view we were each stao-e in an uncovered conveyance, and during the last hour felt monstrous cold; so much so, that we could at last only faintly articulate, ‘There ’s Stirling, and on getting to the station, instead of running up the battlements to see the sun set, as did Jess of Dunblane, we ensconced ourselves near the fire of the refreshment room, ordered hot coffee and sandwiches, and were soon far cosier than kings.”
TO ADAM WHITE, ESQ.
“Woodville, 2&th April 1852.” Since I wrote to you last I have been not seldom ashamed, I shall not exactly say of forgetfulness or procrastination, but of inefficiency. I looked through old Lzaak soon after hearing from you, and was as usual delighted with his fine, old-fashioned, rambling way of recording bis piscatorial excursions. But one can scarcely regard it now-a-days as a practical work, and to make it so by annotations would require the notes to be more voluminous than the work itself. I thought at one time of indicating certain inaccuracies and contradictions in his natural history statements; but, besides that you are so much more competent to do this yourself than I am, I find there is a recent edition of Walton by Eennie, in which a good many things of that kind are noted. I have, therefore, been nonplussed what to do. Any biographical illustration of the old worthies enumerated would be in good hands if in yours, from your retentive memory, and ready access to all books. All I can now hope to do, if not already too late, is to answer any queries you may be inclined to put. I have Rennie’s edition by me, and a cheap one (Thomas Johnson, Manchester, 1851), and should like much if I could serve your views; but really the practice of a Scotch angler is so entirely discordant from that of ‘England in the olden time’ that they cannot be reconciled.
“I have been a good deal occupied this winter by the Royal Society (of Edinburgh) matters in consequence of Professor Forbes’s absence, and my having been called upon (a sad substitute!) to act for him as secretary. I was a little anxious occasionally when there were few papers in expectancy, but on the whole we have got through the session wonderfully well, and I am now arranging the papers and transmitting them to the printers, with a view to the formation of a Fasciculus of the Transactions. I have also had a good deal to do for the Board of Fisheries, and took the latter and Mr Secretary Primrose down as far as Ballantrae in March, to examine the great spawning ground for herring there. It is, so far as I know, the only ascertained bank resorted to by herrings for the purpose of procreation, and the Board has been petitioned to stop the spring fishery there as destructive to the spawn as well as parent fish. But it is an awkward thing to interfere with the sustenance of a poor population, especially when drawn from the sea, which calls no man master. However, I have laid the case before the Board in a report on its various bearings. In these, and unfortunately many other matters, I am one of the ’ great unpaid.’ Of literary work on my own account, I have done little or nothing since I saw you. A few weeks ago, Professor Fraser, the editor of the North British Review, came down in a dilemma regarding a very long and elaborate article on Dr Chalmers’s life, including the forthcoming volume, by Isaac Taylor, which had been promised hi time for his May number. Meanwhile, poor Taylor had lost a daughter, and his being able to finish his essay in time became doubtful. So Fraser came to me to see if I would run up a natural history article of any kind as a stop-gap, and I set to and got through with an ornithological concern, taking Gould’s birds of Australia for one portion, and poor Thomson’s birds of Ireland for another. I am happy to say, however, that Isaac Taylor’s article came in time after all; so my poor, though well-intentioned, substitute will not be required till August. It is well, however, that it is now written and out of hand.
“Have you been as yet turning over your summer plans? If you can give us a few days here at any time it will afford us great pleasure, and you might find something in my ill-arranged, and now seldom looked at, collection to interest you. I have not forgotten my promise as to specimens of char and salmo ferox. They are both here, and I hope to get an artist en route to the Academy Exhibition to take them up to the British Museum.
“You would see that my brother John had resigned his chair. We all thought it the safest course, as intellectual labour fatigued him, and retarded his recovery. Now that he has nothing to do but take care of himself, I hope he will mend. He has the advantage of being with my brother Robert at Woodburn, a fine, large, airy dwelling near Dalkeith, and walks about a good deal every day. My nephew (James Ferrier, the late professor’s son-in-law), who has for several years filled with great acceptance the moral philosophy chair in St Andrews, is a candidate for the vacant chair in Edinburgh. Dr M’Cosh of Belfast, the author of a very excellent book of a more spiritual kind than is usual in metaphysics, is also a candidate. I cannot but wish him well, as I am sure he would do justice to the chair; but ’ blood is thicker than water,’ and as my nephew is regarded by Sir William Hamilton, and other leaders in mental philosophy, as one of the most distinguished metaphysicians produced in these days, I don’t think we shall be taking the wrong sow by the ear in doing what we can to serve him.”
In June 1853, he was called to give evidence before a committee of the House of Commons, as to the probable effect which the supplying of Glasgow with water from Loch Lubnaio- would exert on the salmon-fi siring of the rivers into which its waters are discharged. From this examination he came out with highest honours, and, as he himself alleged, with the degree of “senior (wr)angler.”
TO MISS TAYLOR.
“Craven Hotel, Strand,
4th June 1853.
“My deae Child, — I hope you have more time to read letters than I have to write them. The former process is sometimes a more arduous task than the latter.
“Witness the caligraphy of my beloved. How her
pen slides away like a shrimp in the sand, leaving lines scarcely less legible. When I hear from her, I satisfy my conscience by holding the letter to my heart, and taking it for granted all is right; but as to any continuous or distinct decipherment, that is out of the question.
“I am here to instruct the senators of mighty England on the mysteries of salmon legislation, and on the watergauges of the Teith and Leny and Loch Lubnaig. What a fine thing it is to have been a good wader in early life! Angus seemed much amused by my grave and assiduous attention to business, a brief return to the forlorn hope of my youth! Alas, alas! when I look back, what is there but a trackless waste? Truly I have been an unprofitable servant, and now the night cometh when no man can work. A blighted spring makes a barren autumn; though it is but little that the most diligent can do, and the one thing needful is the sure foundation of the Rock of Ages. ‘Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out! ‘Lord, ever give us that bread!
“It was pleasant for me to find the M’Neills in London. I shall dine with them this evening, having hitherto kept almost aloof from want of leisure, or rather from the desire to give my leisure to the Exhibition. What an extraordinary picture Millais’ ‘Release ’ is! As to the mere handiwork or manipulation, I have scarcely seen anything like it either in ancient or modern art; and then the sentiment is so simply and solemnly expressed, without any of that over-acting or show of grief, so common with artists of a lower kind, however clever. Landseer, to my mind, is not effective this year. I was much struck by a single simple head, a youthful Samuel, — ‘Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.’ The artist’s name is Sant. In my ignorance, I had never heard of him; but that head shews a beautiful combination of almost infantile simplicity and sweetness, with an expression of reverential awe, as in the presence of the great God who made heaven and earth, which to my mind is very striking.
“I have just received a note from His Grace of Argyll, wishing me to be with him this evening. He is a great admirer of Mrs Stowe, and in reply to some remarks of mine, says, ‘As to Mrs Stowe, nothing will spoil her, I feel sure.’ Good Mrs Harriet! she was almost worried to death in Edinburgh, and must have thought us rather a ruffianly set of philanthropists. For myself, I am too old now to become a philanthropist, and I have a great aversion to crowds; moreover, I set such great store by the feminine part of the female character, that I am slow to see the use or propriety of any woman appearing upon a public platform, unless, as in the case of the late Mrs Manning, she is going to be hanged. It then becomes unavoidable.”
Towards the end of that year, the editor of this volume projected a serial for young men, which afterwards appeared and was completed under the name of ‘Excelsior.’ For aid in the zoological department he applied to Mr Wilson, who responded with characteristic kindness. He prepared a series of lively little monographs on parrots, humming-birds, and pigeons; and editorial perplexities would be greatly diminished if all contributors were equally considerate and magnanimous. Although, no man was better entitled to insist on the inviolable integrity and immediate insertion of his articles, he submitted to delays, divisions, and retrenchments, which would have roused the ire of less practised authorship; and from the recollections of those days, and our experience with not a few kindred spirits, we would strongly advise the conductors of similar undertakings to seek for allies men of established fame, and who are not haunted by a constant feeling as if their rights or dignity were in danger.
TO THE REV. JAMES HAMILTON, D.D.
“Woodville, Edinburgh, 23cZ August 1853.
“My dear Sir, — I had recently the pleasure to receive your letter of the 16th. It had gone astray for a day or two in consequence of ’ near Edinburgh’ being on it. The Post-office people think that near means a good bit off, and so send notes thus addressed to Woodville, Colinton, Being within the Post-office delivery, we are regarded by the officials as forming an actual part of the Modern Athens.
“It is not easy to resist your explanatory appeal, not that I have any desire to resist it, but the reverse. At the same time, I am not very free just at this time to undertake new things till I have made further progress in others to which I stand previously pledged. I have a great number of ’ heavy wet, yet sufficiently dry, articles to revise for the new edition of the Encyclopcedia Britannica. I would rather write them anew, but the publishers are desirous to preserve and take advantage of the old materials as far as they can be made properly available. I am therefore treating them as gently as I can (one is apt to overlook the faults of their own offspring), and shall satisfy myself by adding a supplement now and then. I have just done so to the article Animalcule, and having approached the subject from the Ehrenbergian or zoological side, I have viewed many tribes as animals which the modern botanists claim as plants. I must see what is thought of the vexed question by Robert Brown, with whom I am todine to-day at Dr Greville’s. But to keep to your points of inquiry. Without pledging myself to very regular or very frequent contributions, I have no objection to say that I shall do my best to send you a short article now and then. I suppose (and hope) that you mean them to be anonymous. There would be no objection, of course, to a published list of pledged contributors if the publisher advise such; but I hate to see my own name, having been (under the alias of James Wilson) frequently transported, and more than once actually executed. Even if my knowledge and capacity admitted of my taking a prominently useful part, I would feel some delicacy in doing so in any new undertaking, seeing that of late years I have declined, at least not acceded to, applications from Mr Lockhart (for the Quarterly Review), and from the Blackwoodians. I won’t dwell upon this, because I really feel that editors labour under a misconception in requesting my aid. If they had it oftener, they would ask it seldomer. Experientia docet. I have sent articles to the North British now and then, partly from the impulse of the Free Church spirit, partly because, as a near neighbour and old friend of Professor Fraser, I am within the vortex. A stream must carry straws as well as logs.”
TO THE SAME.
“Woodville, 5th October 1853.” My dear Sir, — I was favoured with yours of the 1st in due course. I hope to be able to send you something in time. I have been maundering so much of late about the ‘Birds of Britain,’ that I think they should be allowed to fold their wings for a time. The ‘Birds of the Bible’ may be kept in mind, although the want of Hebrew might be a difficulty if one wished to be critically correct. I doubt not the subject has been already rushed into by some who know nothing either of dead languages or live birds: at least a good deal of what I thought inaccurate has met my eye in glancing over the so-called Scripture natural histories. The late Dr Scott of Corstorphine (afterwards, I think, Professor of Hebrew in St Andrews,) left a number of unpublished essays of that sort behind him. He was a good Eastern scholar, but didn’t know a bullfinch from a black-cock.
“I think the easiest plan for myself, and one of the most suitable for you, would be for me to take up now and then a single definite group, say, for example, parrots (Psittacidce), or humming-birds (Trochdlidce), and give a sketch of the nature, extent, and distribution of the group. It would have the advantage that each such contribution, supposing it correctly treated, would be complete in itself — a satisfactory circumstance alike to writer and reader.”
TO THE SAME.
“Woodville, 3<M January 1854. “My DEAE SlE, — On coming down stairs to breakfast this morning for the first time this year. I have the pleasure to receive your note and the vera effigies of the least of all humming-birds. It seems quite correct. I am glad you are inclined to deal gently with me as concerns the Trochilidce, in the matter of tima I have for several weeks, with the exception of a rolling tide from the Royal Society which I could not resist without being swept away, been unable to do anything, or at least have left undone whatever was not altogether imperative and unpostponable. On Saturday forenoon I had an application from Professor Fraser to know ‘what progress I was making’ with an article on Professor Forbes’s book on Norway for the North British Review. I had to give a most lame account of my proceedings, Dr Greville having borrowed the book, and the article itself being not even ruminated upon during (what to me of late have often been) the sleepless watches of the night. Mr Fraser wishes the said article by the first of March. I doubt if I can do it at all. But I must undertake nothing else till I at least try.”
TO HIS DAUGHTER AND NIECE.
“Princess Royal, Campbelltown,
Monday, llth Sept. 1854.
“My dearest Children, — I wrote a few hurried lines from hence on Saturday, I think; but really, on board one does not always know whether head or heels are uppermost, and the days of the week or month are of small account.
“I told you it was funny at Port Logan to see the tame cods, head and shoulders. A large pond has been quarried out of the rock at the head of a narrow creek. The sea-water rushes up the creek every tide, and falls away from it at ebb-tide; but the excavation beino; below high-water mark, eight or ten feet in depth of fine sea-water is always left within it. There is a cottage and an old woman alongside. She descended with us down a flight of steps to the side of the pond, with a basin of limpets and sand-eels in her hand. The moment the cod-fish saw her, they flocked to her feet, raised their great heads above water, opened their enormous mouths, laid their heads over each other’s shoulders, and wambled about like a set of puppy dogs. I took the basin and fed them. The moment one of them found a sand-eel in its mouth, it gave a great plunge, seeming unable to swallow till it got its head under water. One of them became very much attached to me, and I think would fain have gone on board the cutter with me. I never saw such a set of lazy, good-natured fellows as these fish in my life. They are as happy as the day is long, but, of course, are picked out now and then and carried to the kitchen.
“Went to the Free Church yesterday and had a good discourse from a Mr M’Neill, originally from Isla; a large and respectable congregation. Read our good books all the afternoon. P thinks Jukes on the ‘Types ’ not
very clear. I have forgot or neglected to bring Dr Gordon with me. I took up ‘Cruden ’ &c. to my bed-room, intending (having a handful) to go down for other things; but I was much hurried at last, in consequence of staying too long in town on the day of my departure, and having no one to help me. I must not be left to myself again.”
When, on the death of the venerable Professor Jameson, the chair of Natural History was conferred on Mr Edward Forbes, no one rejoiced more heartily than Mr Wilson in the return to Edinburgh University of its gifted alumnus; and the acqaintance then resumed, in” the course of one short summer, ripened into a warm and affectionate friendship. In the alacrity with which he aided the new professor in the arrangement of the Museum, and in the ardour with which he shared the general impulse given to the cause of the natural sciences, by the accession of a cultivator so distinguished, it almost looked as if Mr Wilson’s own youth were renewed. But all the projects and hopes of which Forbes was the mainspring, were doomed to a sudden and overwhelming collapse. The session had scarcely opened, when a feeling of mingled grief and consternation spread through every circle where the import of such tidings could be understood, in the announcement that Edward Forbes was gone. To Mr
EDWARD FORBES. £0/
Wilson, the public calamity had all the additional bitterness of a personal bereavement*
TO SIR WILLIAM JARDINE, BART.
“Woodville, 20th Nov. 1854.
“My dear Sir William, — We have been often thinking of you and yours, and I was about to write to you on things in general, when I have been altogether astounded and overthrown by the disastrous death of Professor Edward Forbes, which took place yesterday morning, after a short though severe illness. I know not when the funeral may be, but I know how deeply you will sympathise in this great and irremediable bereavement. If you think of coming to town, I hope you will take up your quarters here. We shall not be from home, but let us know by a line or two.”
The vacant chair was offerea to Mr Wilson himself. With his singularly comprehensive knowledge of the various departments of zoology, and surrounded by the respect and good-will of all his fellow-labourers in Scotland, no appointment could have been more natural, or
* Professor Jameson died April 17, 1854, in the eightieth year of ins age, and after occupying the chair of Natural Hiatoiy ia laif a century. Rofessor Edwr.-rl Forbes died on tbu 18th ci Novcirbu lc&4; &S ih3 ago of &2*y.
more honourable to those who made it. But he declined it, for reasons which he thus communicates to Sir W. Jardine, in a letter dated 1 2th December: —
“I may tell you privately, in case of erroneous rumours reaching you, that, from mistaken notions of two or three of my own friends, who chance to have it in their power to give the chair, regarding myself and capabilities, I was asked ’ to stand,’ and assured that if I did so, the government influence could be gained and the election secured. They were ignorant of my constitution both of mind and body, and of the now irremediable habits of half a century. My fittest as well as most familiar place is by the fireside, and there I shall remain, grateful to God for His goodness in making it cheerful from time to time. If I knew either a great deal more, or a great deal less, I would have no difficulty; because in the one case, I would feel that I was fit for the chair, in the other case, I would not feel that I was unfit for it. In regard to others, I told you at the time, I was not to be a partisan, but wished a fair field and no favour to the worthiest beyond their worth.”
The death of Professor Forbes was followed by a loss still more personal and afflicting. For years Mr Wilson had rejoiced in the society as well as the ministry of his relative, the Rev. John Sym. With an intellect wonderfully clear, orderly, and vigorous, Mr Sym combined the deep and reverential piety and the exquisite taste, which, to devout and intelligent hearers, rendered his discourses singularly attractive; whilst his bright and manly bearingwas the true interpreter of a soul generous, noble, and loyal in a rare degree. To Mr Wilson, his able and affectionate pulpit instructions had been a source of much enjoyment and spiritual benefit; and on the frequent companionship of a friend so congenial and comparatively youthful, he naturally reckoned as a chief solace of his own advancing years. But Infinite Wisdom had otherwise ordained, and in mid-time of his days, the active, faithful minister ceased from his labours.
TO SIR WILLIAM JAEDINE, BART.
“■ Woodville, Blst Jan. 1855.
“My dear Sir William, — We have just had a sore distress in the sudden death of our faithful pastor and near relative, the Rev. John Sym — a person to whom we were all greatly attached, and whose loss to us is in many ways irremediable. He leaves a widow and seven young children. He and his family passed yesterday week with us here. He had a slight inflammatory cold on the ensuing day, which subsided or was subdued towards the end of the week. But on Saturday some feverish symptoms supervened. In a single night he sank to rise no more, dying on Sunday forenoon, our Communion Sabbath, to the inexpressible grief of all who knew him. We consign
him to-morrow to the narrow house. My niece H has
been with Mrs Sym ever since her husband’s death, and with the exception of sleeping here, I have passed most of my time with the bereaved family in George Square, lending a hand as I best can towards the required arrangements. Of course, other things must go on and be attended to, in spite of private griefs; and the best thing for all of us, under all circumstances, is occupation. I hope in another clay or two, though it may be with a heavy heart, to proceed with whatever I may have in hand, or may be called upon to do; and I therefore desire you to understand that this calamity, which is really great, need make no difference in your plans as regards coining here. Next week I understand you to be looked for, and we shall expect you to come to us, with any of your family whom it suits to bear you company. Of course, our usually quiet home will, under the circumstances, be even quieter than usual; but I know you have generally quite enough of occupation of your own to prevent time hanging heavy, and you will kindly excuse our own depression, which we shall do our utmost to subdue.”
In attending Mr Sym’s funeral, Mr Wilson caught a
LETTER TO MRS SYM. Sll
heavy cold, and was himself laid aside for nearly two months. On recovering, he wrote the following letter to Mrs Sym: —
“Woodville, 22d March 1855.
“My dear Mrs Sym, — I need scarcely say how frequently I have been thinking of yourself and your dear children, during rny indisposition; and regretting, among other effects of my illness, that it should have so long debarred me from seeing you and them. I am now, however, quite better, and trust to a renewal of that intercourse from which, for many a year, I have derived such unalloyed enjoyment. Alas! it cannot be, in one of its features, what it once was; but it is very consolatory for me to think, that during our long and intimate acquaintance, not a shadow of a cloud has ever interposed between your husband’s friendship and my own. I may surely say, that ’ while dead, he yet speaketh,’ for I fondly dwell on much of our intercourse, which related not to the things of earth, but now forms a portion of those golden links which lead our thoughts to heaven.
“He knew in whom to trust, and he had also the blessed privilege of being able to shew to others the way that leadeth to eternal life. Blessed are they who die in the Lord, and may our end be like his. The thing that has happened is hard to be realised, and I sometimes think
I dream, more especially as my own illness lias, in some measure, prevented my seeing with my bodily eye the grievous blank, however sorely I may feel it. I pray God, who gives and takes away, that all of us, yourself more especially, as the great sufferer, may be consoled and supported. Let us look also to the blessings which remain, and I need scarcely assure you how anxious all of us here will ever be to miirster to your comfort, and to the well-being of your children. — I am yours affectionately,” &c.
TO THE REV. J. HAMILTON, D.D.
“Lesketh How, Ambleside, 9th April 1855.
“My DEAR Sir, — I have frequently had you in mind of late from the feeling of an unanswered note being somewhere in my possession. My niece Henrietta replied to it pro tempore. I had a prolonged and severe illness during winter and early spring, and although greatly better for some little time, I continue to feel the act or attitude of writing very irksome, and indeed painful if prolonged more than a minute or two. Even in this respect I am now better, and hope to be soon fit for some kind of work. I have a good deal before me in consequence of winter arrears.
“We have come up here for change of air, and to avoid the Edinburgh east winds. We are with old friends, and very kind ones. Dr and Mrs Davy; and Mrs Fletcher, the mother ol the latter, my oldest friend., now in her eighty- sixth year, lives close at hand.
•’ JTour note to Henrietta has been received since we came here. 1 was really just about writing to say how I remembered that your request related rather to engravers’ work than anything quite immediate from myself. I think pigeons were formerly named among us. If you care to take them first, I was going to suggest that a gigantic foreign species, well known but remarkable in size and structure, called the Goura, or ciown pigeon, might be selected as illustrative. It is engraved in many books, and exists in most collections. I cannot refer specially to any good representation of it, but Adam White could shew it you at once in the British Museum. Or if you like to take the turtle dove, Cohnnba turtur (the one which visits England), or the laughing turtle-dove, Col. risoria (the eastern one), or any other species, it will be the same thing to me.
“Since I sat down to this (and my hand is tired already) I have heard read out with deep regret, from the Witness, the death of your clear mother, and so I almost feel inclined to apologise for intruding. But I know you will be glad to hear from me, and I was myself desirous to write, more willing indeed than able. I am. however, in every respect greatly better, and I hope I am sufficiently
3i4« THE LAST SUMMITS AND WINTERS.
grateful for all the care and kindness oestowea upon me during my illness, and for the goodness and mercv wnicn have followed me all the days of my iife. — I am, sincerely and sympathising yours,” &c.
TO SIR “W. JARDINE, BART.
“Board of Fisheries, Edinburgh,
31s< July 1855.
“I found so many interruptions at home lately, from strawberry-feeders and flower-pulling parties, that I have been taking refuge here in a large room, with a more commodious and less crowded table than my own, where I can expatiate on some fishing points, on which I am pressed for ‘copy’ I have also ready access to some documents which I could scarcely carry home. I forget if I mentioned to you that my old friend Adam Black had got both himself and me into a scrape, in consequence of some misapprehension about the article ‘Fisheries ’ for the ‘Encyclopaedia.’ He thought I had promised to do it, and when asked if it was ready, all I could say was that I had never even heard that it was expected. Whose memory was in fault nobody can tell, but I have been endeavouring to remedy the mistake, by whomsoever made, by working rather closer than 1 wished to do during this flowery and imity season.
ARTAXEEXES BUTTERFLY. 3 ‘j 5
“But what I send a line for just now is to say that I wish you would give an hour now and then to the parr question; that is, ascertain whether a great preponderance of the larger ones in the river at this time are males. A man in England writes me that he can reconcile the adverse theories of one and two year old smolts, by the fact that all the female parr ’ smolt ’ soon after the completion of the first year, the males not till after the close of the second. I remember being often struck by the precocity of the male autumnal parr, and by the scarcity or undeveloped condition of the females. If they are all off to the sea-bathing some months before, of course we can scarcely expect to find them in fresh water.”
TO ADAM WHITE, ESQ.
“Woodvixle, 14th December 1855.” Can you give me any precise information as to the literary history of our Arthur Seat butterfly, Pol. Artaxerxes 1 All its transformations have been now made out, but a friend of mine asks me where it was first described. Fabricius mentions the only specimen of his day as being in the cabinet of Mr Jones of Chelsea, who also seems to have published and given a figure of it. Who was tins Mr Jones of Chelsea, and where are his figure and description to be found? I remember, before you were born.
catching it with Dr Leach, and continuing to serod nim specimens to London from time to time; but I forget if he ever published any original or other description of it. It is entered in Samouelle’s ‘Compendium,’ 1819. I don’t know what Donovan says, my copy being borrowed.”
TO MISS TAYLOR.
“Woodville, 3d Dec. 1 855. “.... There is certainly a great want of continuity as well as efficiency in anything I have tried to do since I came last home, and I almost fear I am too old to mend. However, I suppose that I should at least make the attempt. To a certain extent I have been lately doing so, while visiting with our new clergyman such of our congregation as reside in the southern districts, which have been assigned to my supervision. Many changes have taken place among our people. Of many, the places now know them no more for ever, seeming to say, ‘Be ye also ready.’ Alas! how often has that been said aforetime, and with how little effect! May the grace of God be so vouchsafed that while speaking to others, I be not myself a castaway!
“I sometimes feel, especially while indulging in the dreamy remembrances of Westmoreland, that what Ruskin calls ’ the duty of delight ’ is the only ce e I ever perfo;; i
At least I pel form it so much more easily and pleasantly than any other, that I am not seldom doubtful as to how far it may be classed among the meritorious duties in any way. I fear it may be viewed as a question of casuistry, as may many actions which a person performs, and with alacrity, becavtse, though kind as towards others, they are also delightful to hurr.elf. Perhaps the true test of the ooi form -.U o o? Jutj U, when it involves the taking up of vne Uroih”