CHAPTER VII.

ON SCOTTISH STORIES OF WIT AND HUMOUR

CONCLUSION

INDEX

MEMOIR OF DEAN RAMSAY.

I.

The friends of Dean Ramsay desiring a memorial of his life, his friendly

publishers, and his nearest relatives, have asked me to undertake the

work, and placed in my hands some materials giving authentic facts and

dates, and illustrating the Dean's own views on the leading events

of his life.

I feel myself excluded from dealing with one important part of such a

life, for I could not take upon me to speak with confidence or authority

upon church doctrines or church government. On the other hand, for the

_man_ I have that full sympathy which I suppose ought to exist between

the writer and the subject of the biography.

We were very old friends, natives of the same district, bred among a

people peculiar in manners and language, a people abounding in a racy

humour, differing from what prevails in most parts of Scotland--a

peculiarity which it was the joy of the Dean to bring before his

countrymen in his _Reminiscences_; and although he and I were not

kindred of blood, his relatives and friends were very much mine, and my

uncles and aunts were also his.

Edward Bannerman Burnett, known in after life as Edward Ramsay, and

Dean of Edinburgh, was born at Aberdeen on the last day of January 1793.

His father, Alexander, second son of Sir Thomas Burnett, Baronet, of

Leys, was an advocate, and sheriff of Kincardineshire, where the family

estates lay. The sheriff was of delicate constitution, and travelled in

the south of Europe for his health, until obliged to fly from the French

Revolution; and at Aberdeen, the first place where he and his wife

stopped, Edward was born. The Dean's mother was Elizabeth, the elder

daughter of Sir Alexander Bannerman of Elsick, and she and her sister

Mary, afterwards Mrs. Russell, were co-heirs of his estates in the

pretty valley of the Feugh, including the whole parish of Strachan, of

which the southern part, looking over into the _How_ of the Mearns, was

Mrs. Burnett's portion; the northern, with the beautiful bank of Dee

where Blackhall stands, falling to Mrs. Russell. Both sisters were

eminently handsome. I have a tradition of the young ladies, when they

first came from their York school to Edinburgh, being followed and gazed

at by passengers in the streets, for their beauty; and there are many

still living in Edinburgh who long after gazed with admiration on the

fine old lady, the Dean's mother, bending over her embroidery frame in

her window in Darnaway Street.

Alexander Burnett and his wife Elizabeth Bannerman had a large family.

Edward, the fourth son, when very young, was taken by his grand-uncle,

Sir Alexander Ramsay, and sent to school near his own house at Harlsey

in Yorkshire. Edward's first school, to which he was sent in 1801, made

a remarkable impression upon the Dean's memory. "I believe," he says,

"at that period (the very beginning of the century) it was about the

most retired village in England not of a mountainous district. No

turnpike road went through the parish. It lay in the line of no

thoroughfare. The only inhabitants of education were the clergyman, a

man of great simplicity of character, who had never been at the

University, and my great-uncle, of above fourscore, and a recluse. The

people were uneducated to an extent now unusual. Nearly all the letters

of the village were written by my uncle's gardener, a Scotchman, who,

having the degree of education usual with his countrymen of the

profession, and who being very good natured, had abundant occupation for

his evenings, and being, moreover, a prudent man, and _safe_, became the

depository of nine-tenths of the family secrets of the inhabitants.

Being thus ignorant generally, and few of them ever having been twenty

miles from the place, I may consider the parish fifty years behind the

rest of the world when I went there, so that it now furnishes

recollection of rural people, of manners and intelligence, dating back a

hundred years from the present time. It was indeed a very primitive

race; and it is curious to recall the many indications afforded in that

obscure village of unmitigated ignorance. With all this were found in

full exercise also the more violent and vindictive passions of our

nature. They might have the simplicity, but not the virtues, of

Arcadia.... There were some old English customs of an interesting

nature which lingered in the parish. For example, the old habit of

bowing to the altar was retained by the rustics on entering church, and

bowing respectfully to the clergyman in his place. A copy of the

Scriptures was in the vestry _chained_ to the desk on which it lay, and

where it had evidently been since that mode of introducing the Bible was

practised in the time of Edward VI. The passing bell was always sounded

on notice of the death of a parishioner, and sounded at any hour, night

or day, immediately on the event happening. One striking custom

prevailed at funerals. The coffin was borne through the village to the

churchyard by six or eight bearers of the same age and sex as the

deceased. Thus young maidens in white carried the remains of the girl

with whom they had lately sported. Boys took their playfellow and

companion to the churchyard. The young married woman was borne by

matrons; the men of middle age did the same office for their

contemporary.... The worship of the little church was, as may be

supposed, extremely simple, and yet even there innovation and refinement

had appeared in the musical department. The old men who used to execute

the psalmody, with the clerk at their head, had been superseded. A

teacher of singing had been engaged, and a choir, consisting of maidens,

boys and men, executed various sacred pieces with the assistance of a

bassoon and violin. I recollect in the church a practice which would

have shocked the strict rubricians of the present day. Whenever banns of

marriage were proclaimed, immediately after the words 'This is the

first, second, or third time of asking,' the old clerk shouted out, 'God

speed them weel.' In nothing was the primitive and simple character of

the people more remarkable than in the social position of the clergy

amongst them. The livings were all small, so that there was no

temptation for ecclesiastics of birth and high position in society to

come there. The clergy were in many cases clergy only on Sundays, and

for Sunday duty. The rest of the week they were like their people;

engaged in agriculture or horse-breeding, they lived with their

servants, and were scarcely raised above the position of farmers. To

show the primitive manners of many clergymen, I may mention the case of

an usher in my school, who was also curate. He enjoyed the euphonious

name of Caleb Longbottom. I recollect his dialect--pure Yorkshire; his

coat a black one only on Sunday, as I suppose he was on week days

wearing out his old blue coat which he had before going into orders.

Lord Macaulay has been charged that in describing the humble social

condition of the clergy in the reign of Charles II., he has greatly

exaggerated their want of refinement and knowledge of the world; but

really, from my recollection of my friend Mr. Longbottom and others at

the time I speak of, in the reign of George III., I cannot think he has

overdrawn the picture. Suppose this incident at a table in our own

time:--My uncle lived in what is called in Yorkshire the Hall; and being

principal proprietor in the parish, he was in fact the squire or great

man. The clergy always dined at the hall after evening service, and I

recollect the first day the new curate dined. The awkwardness and

shyness of the poor man were striking, even to the eyes of a thoughtless

schoolboy. He summoned courage to call for beer, and, according to the

old custom, deemed it necessary to drink the health of all present

before he put the glass to his lips. He addressed first the old

gentleman, then the vicar, then myself, and finally, with equal

solemnity, drank to the servants in attendance--the old butler and

coachman, who were waiting upon the company[1]."

I value these reminiscences of his Yorkshire school, written long after,

because I think them very curious; and they show how early Edward Ramsay

had his eyes open to characteristic features of the people.

Ramsay's grand-uncle, the old Sir Alexander Ramsay, died in 1806,

neglecting to make the provision which he had intended for his

grand-nephew, but leaving his estates to his nephew, Edward's father,

who then gave up his sheriffship (in which he was succeeded by Adam

Gillies), and being a Whig and of Whig family, accepted a baronetcy from

Mr. Fox, and made Fasque his home for the short remainder of his life.

The future Dean was not fortunate in schools. On his father's succeeding

to the family estates he quitted Harlsey indeed, but only to move to

Durham, which left no more pleasant memories in his mind than the other,

although there he learned to blow the flute, and indulge his strong

musical taste. He writes of Durham school that it had fallen off

terribly, from the increasing infirmities of the head master, and Ramsay

was anxious to leave it, when that move came naturally by the death of

his father[2]. Writing in his journal some time afterwards, he says,

"What was I to do? I was determined to go into the Church, and must go

to college. How was the intermediate period to be spent?" His first

private tutor was the Rev. J.H. Browne, at Kegworth in Leicestershire,

afterwards Archdeacon of Ely. "Here," says Edward, "I did learn

something both of books and of the world. Browne was a scholar, and my

fellow-students were gentlemen and knew something of life." He next

lived for a time with Mr. Joynes, a clergyman, at Sandwich in Kent, and

went from thence, in October 1811, to Cambridge.

He entered as a pensioner at St. John's, and although professing to be a

reading man, he was not eminently satisfied with the effects of the

society into which he fell upon his habits and accomplishments. "Not,"

he says, "that I had not really good associates, but somehow it seems

not to have been the best and such as I might have had." Another defect

was his not having a skilful and effective private tutor at a time when

he felt that he stood specially in need of one. "I could not form my

reading habits alone, and I had not sufficient help. I did enough,

however, to show I was not an ass. I got a scholarship. I was twice in

goodish places in the first class. I had a name for flute-playing;" and

then, ending this retrospect, which he wrote with some disgust, he tells

how he left Cambridge in his third year, going out B.A. with no contest

for honours. His college vacations were spent either in London with

college friends, or with a reading party under Wilkinson, the tutor, at

Redcar. In gathering up his recollections, he says he saw a good deal of

society: one summer was very musical; of another which he spent at home

he enumerates his occupations--"botany," "music," "Deeside." Through

all, his study was theology, but in "small doses" he says. His brother

Marmaduke joined him on the Christmas holiday of 1816, when they worked

together at the cryptogamics, and then went up to Cambridge

together--Edward to renew his theological studies with the help of the

formal lectures at the University. He spent the remainder of that season

at Bath with friends and relatives. He speaks of the Bath society, its

gaiety, theatricals, music--some rich clergymen giving good dinners, and

brother Marmaduke coming for his long vacation to a farm-house two miles

from Bath, "where we had some good botanical fun. Can it be that the

finding a new plant put us in a state of ecstasy? How we treasured up

specimens! How we gloried in our collections! But it has all passed

away; no chord is touched." To some, who think of the Dean as the

reverend, pious, grave, even melancholy man, these youthful

reminiscences may appear unnatural, even unworthy. I must own that there

breaks out now and then in his journal something which shows that he

himself was not satisfied with many of these juvenile memoranda, as if

they showed unfitting occupation and education of a young clergyman. But

that was not their real nature. Those small studies and accomplishments

took the place in his early training which the cricket-match or the

boat-race now take in the school time of Young England. The Dean speaks

somewhat contemptuously--"Here I got a smattering of astronomy," and

again of his studies of cryptogamics and botany; but he nevertheless

felt the full benefit of such accomplishments. His music, his passion

for rural and especially Highland scenery, the enjoyments of society,

the love of seeing others happy, the joining of happiness with goodness,

made the Dean what he was in after life, and enabled him to take that

position amongst his countrymen which a purely theological upbringing

would not have done.

But now our young cleric was to put away childish things, and to take

upon him the duty of his high calling. He was ordained at Wells, and

officiated for the first time as curate of Rodden, near Frome, Somerset,

on Christmas day 1816.

Rodden is a very small village, of one or two farms and some labourers'

cottages, nestling round the little church, with a few, very few,

outlying houses or farms. It lies among meadows on each side of the

rivulet which runs through the village. One of the outlying houses is

"Styles Hill," inhabited by one family of the Sheppards, all of whom

soon became dear friends of the Dean. Another was the "Pear-tree"

Cottage, an uninteresting red brick house, where Mr. Rogers provided a

residence for the young curate. The incumbent of the parish, when Ramsay

went there, was the Rev. John Methwen Rogers of Berkley, who was

non-resident. The duties of Rodden were too small to employ his whole

time, and in the following year (1817) Ramsay became curate also of

Buckland Dinham, the rector of which was non-resident and lived at a

distance, so that the curate had the sole charge of the parish. In his

work at Buckland, Ramsay took great delight, and soon won the hearts of

his people, although many of them were Wesleyan Methodists of the old

type[3]. But it was not only amongst the peasantry that Ramsay was

beloved. All the upper and middle classes in his own little parishes,

and through the whole valley, regarded him with strong esteem and

affection, and amongst them were persons whose character, and even whose

little peculiarities of language, he caught and remembered. One of

these, a retired Captain Balne, although he failed in prevailing on the

young clergyman to take a glass of grog, his own favourite cure for all

ailments, was pleased when the curate came to take a dish of tea with

him and his gentle wife. Once, when Ramsay was ill, the grief in the

parish was universal; but he used to say that the greatest proof of

attachment was given by Captain Balne, who happened to be enjoying his

dinner when the news of his friend's illness reached him, upon which he

laid down his knife and fork, and declared he could not take another

mouthful. Captain Balne had a peculiar phraseology. One phrase, in

particular, was, "If I may be allowed the language," which came readily

on all occasions. If he was asked "How is Mrs. Balne to-day?" the

Captain would reply, "She is quite well, I thank you, Mr. Ramsay, if I

may be allowed the language;" or ask him, "Have you a good crop of

apples this year?" "Pretty middling, sir, if I may be allowed the

language." The constant recurrence of the phrase struck Mr. Ramsay, who

quoted it long after in his letters to his Frome friends--"I am glad to

say my congregation at St John's continues good--if I may be allowed the

language."

Buckland is a larger village than Rodden, containing nearly 500

inhabitants. The two places are five miles apart. Buckland is on the

brow and slope of a steep hill, the church being on the summit, and the

irregular street descending from it on the Frome side, with many

cottages scattered about among orchards and meadows. So the curate of

Buckland, living at the Pear-tree Cottage in Rodden, required a pony for

locomotion, which he showed with some pride to his neighbours on first

buying it. It was an iron-gray, and a sedate clerical pony enough, to

which he gave the name of Rumplestiltskin, after one of Grimm's popular

stories; and whenever he spoke of him or to him, he gave him his name at

full length. The country and some of the places round Buckland are very

interesting. On the west is one of the entrances to Vallis, a grassy

valley bordered by limestone rocks, and trees and copse, with a

trout-stream winding through it. There, when the labours of the day were

done, the Sheppards and he would spend a summer afternoon sketching and

botanising, whilst tea was prepared at a neighbouring farm.

Vallis opened into several other vales, and on the heights above were

the picturesque villages of Elm and Skells, and the ruined nunnery and

massive old castle, the old seat of Delameres, renowned for a defence in

the Cromwellian wars. Mr. Ramsay proposed in jest to fit up the castle

as a dwelling, and bring all his friends to live there. Another time he

was for fitting it up as a museum. It would make, he said, a splendid

place for a _hortus siccus_--a "great ornament to our ponds and

ditches[4]." The writer of these trifles excuses herself for collecting

them, because she knew the value which is attached to the least of the

sayings and doings of a departed friend; but we are assured, that even

in those Arcadian regions life was not always holiday. There was some

serious work. The curate took great pains on the future interests as

well as the characters of his little flock.

In one family he acted the part of the truest of friends--gently

reproving the little ones when they deserved it, and ready to amuse

when it was the time for amusement--sometimes taking them to Bath for

the day, and making them very happy, bestowing at the same time great

pains on their instruction--sometimes practising music with them, and

accompanying their sonatas on his incomparable flute--recommending to

the governess a higher style of music, leading them on gradually to the

works of Beethoven and Mozart. By and by he gave them instructions in

architecture; taught them, as he said, all that he had learned from

Rickman. His teaching was minutely technical. He would assemble his

class in a little morning room, with books before them, and a case of

mathematical instruments, pens and pencils. His pupils wrote what he saw

fit to dictate, and he taught them how to use the compasses. Next came

botany, which was not a new study to his pupils. There his brothers

assisted him. They made a joint _hortus siccus_ under his instruction.

Edwin contributed many specimens from Scotland, and Marmaduke made a

little collection of mosses. But they had to thank the curate for yet

higher and better instruction. His younger pupils were not excluded from

the most earnest conversations between him and Mr. Algar, Mr. John

Sheppard, and some friends of the neighbouring gentlemen and clergy. In

these conversations books were read and criticised, theological and

other subjects, including some politics, were discussed. Ramsay was

quizzed for Whiggish tendencies. The mistress of the house usually

joined and set them right in politics, for she had been brought up in

Plymouth during the French war, and had learned the old-fashioned Tory

doctrine, and to think any other politics sinful. But all those high

subjects of politics and religion were discussed with fitting respect;

for that society--young and old--had a deep sense of religion, and the

parents encouraged the younger members to visit and instruct the workmen

and their families who were employed in the large cloth manufactories of

the Sheppards; so that it came to pass that every man, woman, and child

was taught or helped to teach others, for in those days very few of the

working-people, at least in that part of England, could read at all. A

lending library was attached to the mills. A large Sunday school was

formed, chiefly for the children of the workpeople, and additional

services were undertaken by the curate--a second sermon on Sundays

besides one on Thursday evenings, where the families of the

neighbourhood attended, and as many of the servants as could be spared.

There, be sure, was no big talk on the primary obligation of orthodoxy,

no attempts to proselytise. But all classes of that primitive people

valued his preaching, and farmers and their labourers, the workmen of

the factories, as well as their masters, took advantage of it. His

brothers often visited him, and joined heartily in his pursuits whether

gay or serious. It was delightful to see the three brothers so happy in

each other's society, and helping on a worthy common object. Marmaduke,

the Cambridge man, would talk astronomy, and William, the sailor,

afterwards Admiral Ramsay, brought down a fine telescope, and himself

gave them their first lesson in practical astronomy, handing over the

instrument when he left to his brother the curate, that he might

continue the instruction.

During all these years of useful, cheerful, happy employment at Frome,

Edward Ramsay never forgot the land of his forefathers and of his own

youth. He sometimes visited Bath and London to hear Edward Irving

preach, to see Kean act, to stare at old books and prints in the shop

windows, to revel in the beauties of Kew Gardens; but every summer he

found time for a visit to Scotland, and spent his holiday with boyish

delight amongst the scenes and friends of his childhood.

It was on one of those visits to Scotland, in the autumn of 1822, whilst

Mr. Ramsay was spending his holidays among his friends on Deeside, that

the managers of St. Paul's Chapel, Aberdeen, offered him the place of

second minister to that congregation, along with Mr. Cordiner. He was

much gratified, and would gladly have accepted the appointment. He liked

the place--his native town; thought highly of the respectability of the

congregation; but there was one objection, which to him was insuperable.

The congregation had for some time been Episcopal only in name, and it

went against Mr. Ramsay's conscience to minister in a church calling

itself Episcopal, but without the communion or discipline of a bishop.

He explained to the managers his objection, and thought for a time it

might be overcome by a union with the Scotch Episcopal churches in the

diocese. He had yet to learn the strength, of the Scotch prejudice

against bishops; perhaps to learn that the more shadowy the grounds of

dispute, so much the more keenly are ecclesiastical squabbles fought.

Worthy Bishop Skinner would have been glad to have Ramsay a

fellow-labourer in his city upon whatever conditions. Yet he could not

contradict his younger friend's honest and temperate adherence to his

principles and to Episcopacy. The correspondence all round, which I have

before me, is quite decorous; but after Ramsay had stated his objection,

and that it was insuperable, the managers wrote to him, 1st October

1822, that "a unanimous election would follow if he accepted the

situation under the present establishment." It would have been easy to

divide the congregation, but this did not suit Ramsay's feelings or

nature, and he courteously bowed to the decision of the managers, and

returned to Frome, where his income from both curacies was £100 a

year,--a poverty the more irksome to a man of culture and

refined tastes.

Not long after (still, I think in 1823), the Journal records--"Mrs.

Forbes, my aunt, had just come into her accession of fortune, and

presented me with £5000. A man may live many days in this world, and not

meet the like gift in a like kindly spirit[5]."

Of the year 1823 the Journal remarks very severe winter. "Marmaduke and

Edwin with me at the Pear-tree[6]; a delightful tour in South Wales with

the Sheppards and other friends most agreeable and

good-humoured,--botany, sketching, talk, and fun. Life has few things to

offer more enjoyable than such tours. I have found in them the happiest

hours in my life." And then follows the wail for so "many of them

departed; so many dear good friends; all different, but all excellent!"

Marmaduke having gone as tutor to Lord Lansdowne's eldest son, Edward

was more free to consider an offer from Edinburgh, and ultimately

accepted the curacy of St. George's in York Place, under Mr. Shannon. He

preached his two last sermons at Rodden and Buckland on Christmas

day 1823.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Reminiscences_ (Second Series, 1861). Introduction.

[2] May 10, 1810.

[3] Some account of his dealings among the Methodists may be found in

the _Sunday Magazine_, January 1865, edited by the Rev. Dr. Guthrie. The

paper is titled "Reminiscences of a West of England Curacy."

[4] This was a favourite quotation of Ramsay's, who was amused with the

remark of Withering's or Woodward's botany, repeated in his letters for

long after:--"The organ at St. John's gives universal satisfaction--a

great ornament to our ponds and ditches."

[5] Mrs. Forbes, the sister and aunt of so many Burnetts and Ramsays,

lived the latter part of her life at Banchory Lodge, in the middle of

that "Deeside" country, where the future Dean spent many of his happy

holidays, and learned much of the peculiar ways of that peculiar people.

There were no two ladies in Scotland more esteemed and beloved than the

Dean's aunts on both sides--Mrs. Russell, his aunt and mine, living in

widowhood at Blackhall, and Mrs. Forbes at Banchory Lodge, three miles

apart, on the opposite banks of Dee. Mrs. Forbes died 1st February 1838.

[6] His dwelling near Frome.

II.

The Dean was passionately fond of Deeside. Let me indulge myself in

looking back upon that district such as he knew it, such as I remember

it sixty years ago.

The natural features of Deeside are not changed. The noble river pours

down its brown flood as of old, hurrying from its wooded rocky

highlands. On the prettiest part of its bank stands Crathes, the finest

of Aberdeenshire castles, the immemorial seat of the Burnetts, where

Edward Ramsay, himself a Burnett, was received with all the love of

kindred, as well as the hearty respect for his sacred profession. I

daresay Crathes was not to him quite what I remember it. But we were of

different professions and habits. I will say nothing of the chief sport

of Dee, its salmon-fishing. However fascinating, the rod is a silent

companion, and wants the jovial merriment, shout and halloo, that give

life and cheerfulness to the sport of the hunter. My recollection of

Deeside is in its autumn decking, and shows me old Sir Robert and my

lady, two gentle daughters and four tall stalwart sons--they might have

sat for a group of Osbaldistones to the great painter Walter Scott. I

will not describe the interior of the old house, partly because it was

changing, and every change appeared to me for the worse; but no one

would forget the old hall, where Kneller's picture of Bishop Burnett

still looks down on his modern cousins and their hospitality. It was a

frank and cordial hospitality, of which the genial old bishop would

have approved. The viands were homely almost to affectation. Every day

saw on that board a noble joint of boiled beef, not to the exclusion of

lighter kickshaws; but the beef was indispensable, just as the _bouilli_

still is in some provinces of France. Claret was there in plenty--too

plentiful perhaps; but surely the "braw drink" was well bestowed, for

with it came the droll story, the playful attack and ready retort, the

cheerful laugh--always good humour. A dinner at Crathes was what the

then baronet, old Sir Robert, would call the "best of good company."

Another part of the house I well remember--the place, half gun-room,

half servant's hall--where we prepared for sport in the morning, and

brought the day's bag home at night. Prominent figures there were two

brothers Stevenson, Willie and Jamie, known for twenty miles round as

the "fox-hunters," known to us, after the southern sporting slang had

been brought among us by our neighbour Captain Barclay, as

"Pad-the-hoof" and "Flash-the-muzzle[7]" The fox-hunting was on foot,

but let no mounted hunter sneer. The haunts of the game were continuous

woods and bogs, hard to ride and from which no fox could be forced to

break. "Pad-the-hoof" looked no ignoble sportsman as he cheered his

great slow-hounds through the thicket, and his halloo rang from the

wood of Trustach to the craigs of Ashintillie. Both were armed, but

"Flash" took less charge of the hounds than seeing to death the fox, the

enemy of all, including the roe, which recent plantations had raised

into an enemy. I must say nothing on foot or wing came amiss to

Flash-the-muzzle's gun. Hares and rabbits, not then the pest of the

country, swelled our bag. We had a moderate number of black game, and

the fox-hunters were somewhat astonished to find that we of the gentry

set much store by woodcock, which bulked so little in the day's sport.

The fox-hunter brothers had the run of the servants' hall at Crathes,

and they were said to have consumed fabulous numbers of kitchen pokers,

which required to be heated red-hot to give the jugs of ale of their

evening draught the right temperature and flavour. That was a

free-living community. The gentlemen of the house were too much

gentlemen to stand upon their dignity, and all, from the baronet

downwards, had the thorough appreciation of Deeside humour. It was there

that the Dean learned his stories of "Boatie" and other worthies of the

river-side. Boatie himself was Abernethy, the ferryman of Dee below

Blackhall; he hauled his boat across the river by a rope made fast at

both ends. Once, in a heavy water, the rope gave way, and Boatie in his

little craft was whirled down the raging river and got ashore with much

difficulty. It was after this, when boasting of his valiant exertions,

that Mrs. Russell put him in mind of the gratitude he owed to Providence

for his escape, and was answered as the Dean himself tells us in his

_Reminiscences_. Another of the water-side worthies, "Saunders Paul,"

was nominally the keeper of the public-house at Invercannie, where the

water of Cannie falls into Dee. It was the alehouse of the country, but

frequented much more by the gentry than by the commons. It was there

that Mr. Maule in his young days, not yet Lord Panmure, led the riots

and drank his claret, while Saunders capped him glass for glass with

whisky and kept the company in a roar with Deeside stories. Old

Saunders--I remember him like yesterday--was not a mere drunken sot or a

Boniface of the hostelry. He had lived a long lifetime among men who did

not care to be toadied, and there was a freedom and ready wit in the old

man that pleased everybody who was worth pleasing. Above all, there was

the Deeside humour which made his stories popular, and brought them to

the ear of our Dean.

That was the left side--the Crathes bank of Dee. Across the river was

the somewhat dilapidated fortalice of Tilquhillie, the seat of an

ancient and decayed branch of the Douglases. The last laird who dwelt

there lived in the traditions of Deeside as own brother to the Laird of

Ellangowan in Scott's romance. Ramsay has put him well on canvas. Who

does not remember his dying instructions to his son and his grieve?--"Be

ye aye stickin' in a tree, Johnny; it will be growin' when ye are

sleepin'!" while he cautions the grieve, "Now mind that black park; it

never gied me onything, ne'er gie onything to it."

In the days when the Dean knew that Water-side the fortalice was

uninhabited, and I think not habitable for gentlefolks; but down on the

haugh below, and close to the river in a pretty garden-cottage, dwelt

the old Lady Tilquhillie, with her son the sheriff of the county, George

Douglas, whom a few Edinburgh men may yet remember as the man of wit and

pleasure about town, the _beau_ of the Parliament House--at home a kind

hospitable gentleman, looking down a little upon the rough humours that

pleased his neighbours. The old lady--I think she was a Dutch woman, or

from the Cape of Good Hope--and her old servant, Sandy M'Canch,

furnished the Dean with many a bit of Deeside life and humour; and are

they not written in the _Reminiscences!_

Higher up the river were two houses where the Dean was much

beloved--Banchory Lodge, his uncle General Burnett's, where also lived

his dear aunt, the widowed Mrs. Forbes; and Blackhall, where, in the

time I have in my mind, lived his aunt, Mrs. Russell, the widow of my

uncle Francis Russell, a woman of many sorrows, but whose sweet voice

and silver laugh brought joy into the house even amidst sickness and

sorrow[8]. She had not the Deeside language, but she and her sister Lady

Ramsay, Yorkshire women, and educated in the city of York, helped to

give the Dean that curious northern English talk which he mixed

pleasantly with the language of Angus and Mearns that he loved so well;

and he inherited from the Bannermans the sweet voice, so valuable an

inheritance to a preacher.

I have gone over less than a dozen miles of the valley of the Dee, which

was the Dean's Deeside. I think the manners and popular thought, as well

as the language of that little district, were peculiar, and fitted to

catch the attention of an eager student of human nature and character.

Deeside, in its wider acceptance, of course includes the great city at

its mouth, and the picturesque mountains of Mar near the source of the

river, where the Queen has now set her mark of favour on the land. I beg

to distinguish Deeside--the Dean's Deeside--lying between these. The

city of Aberdeen, with its trade and manufacture and wealth, with its

University and schools, and some tradition of the antique metropolis,

has established, as she had good right, habits and language of her own,

not to be mistaken, but almost confined to her own walls. On the other

hand, the mountains of Mar, where lie the springs of the Dee, where

tower Lochnagar and Benmacdhui, are inhabited by a race of shepherds and

hunters, speaking a different language, differing in manners from the

Dean's friends, who dwelt from the Hill of Fair to Ashintillie, where

hardly a Gaelic name occurs among the peasantry.

The little cluster of mansions which I have mentioned lies, I think,

wholly within the parish of Banchory-Ternan. Following the river down

from that parish, the next place of any importance is the old

manor-house of Durris, some half-dozen miles lower, and on the right

bank of the river. It is a place of some interest to lawyers for having

given rise to one of the leading cases on the law of entail, which

settled points that had formerly been doubtful, all in favour of the

strict entail. The victim in that case, ejected by the heir of entail,

was John Innes, who had sold his property in Moray to invest the produce

in the great barony of Durris. The new tenant, believing himself almost

proprietor, built a comfortable house under the walls of the old castle,

and in that house was born the writer of these notes. I do not feel

myself severed by any disgusts from the country of my youth where I

spent my best years, or at least the years of most enjoyment. It was

then a wild moor, with some natural beauty, a picturesque den leading

from the house to the noble river, wooded with native birch and scrubby

oak, with some tall larches and magnificent horse-chestnuts, and even a

few immemorial Spanish chestnuts planted by the old Peterboroughs, now

all gone. Along that river bank were some of the broadest haughs with

which I am acquainted, and some of the best salmon streams, then woods

and sheep pastures and a dozen miles of heather hills--up to

Cairn-monearn and Kerloach--giving the best grouse-shooting in the

country. It is in truth a charming water-side even in the eyes of a

critical old man, or of a tourist in search of the picturesque; but for

a boy who lived there, shot, and fished there, while all the houses

round were the dwellings of cousins and friends, while game was not yet

let for hire, it was a place to win that boy's heart, and I loved it

very heartily. We were the nearest neighbours on one side of that

cluster of residences of the Burnetts and Douglases and Russells which I

have tried to describe. We were all very good friends, and thus the Dean

and I were early acquainted.

I have said little of the Dean's ancestors, merely named the Burnetts

and Bannermans. Indeed I would guard against loading my memoir of the

Dean with anything like mere pedigree. I take no interest in his

ancestry, except in so far as they may have given a character--so far as

he may have inherited his personal qualities from them. I will not dwell

then upon Alexander de Burnard, who had his charter from Robert the

Bruce of the Deeside lands which his descendants still hold, nor even on

the first Lairds of Leys. When the Reformation blazed over Scotland, the

Baron of Leys and his kindred favoured and led the party that supported

the new faith; but, even in that iconoclastic age, two of them are found

protesting against the destruction of religious places at Aberdeen. One,

Gilbert Burnett (he was grand-uncle of the Bishop of Sarum), enjoyed

considerable reputation abroad for certain philosophical writings. He

was Professor of Philosophy, first at Basle and afterwards at Montauban,

and a general synod of the French Protestants desired that his works

should be printed at the expense of the synod. These _Dissertationes

Ethicæ_ were accordingly published at Leyden in 1649; but his death

prevented his other writings from being published. Two brothers of the

same generation, Thomas and Duncan, settled in England as physicians,

and seem to have been men of literary eminence. Pedigrees of both are to

be found in the Herald's Visitations of Essex and Norfolk. Duncan,

Thomas, and Gilbert, are all noticed by Sir Thomas Middleton among the

"Learned Men and Writers of Aberdeen;" and Duncan is noted as a holy,

good, and learned man. In the stirring times of the Covenants, Sir

Thomas Burnett of Leys, Baronet, though an adherent of the Huntlys,

embraced the Covenant from conscientious motives against his political

instincts and associations. And ever afterwards we find him firm in the

principles of the Covenant, yet advising peaceful and moderate counsels;

and when Montrose, after his conversion to the royal cause, passed

through Aberdeenshire, harrying the lands of the leading Covenanters, he

supped one day at Crathes, excepted and protected Sir Thomas Burnett and

his son-in-law, Sir William Forbes of Monymusk, in the general

denunciation of the Puritans. We find Sir Thomas repeatedly a

commissioner for visiting the University of Aberdeen, and in his later

years he endowed three bursaries at King's College, his own _alma

mater_. Jamesone has painted him with a thoughtful and refined, but

earnest and manly face. The baronet's brother, James Burnett of

Craigmyle, was of the same character. No less earnest and staunch than

his brother in his adherence to his principles--he ever figures as a

peace-maker and enemy of bloodshed. He is described by the parson of

Rothiemay, an unsuspected testimony, as a "gentleman of great wisdom,

and one who favoured the King though he dwelt among the Covenanters, and

was loved and respected by all." Is it not plain that the temperance and

moderation descended in the blood of the Burnetts?

Thomas Burnett of Kemnay, grandson of Craigmyle, is known in a sphere

where few Scotsmen had entered. He was a courtier of that remarkable

little court of the Electress Sophia of Hanover, where he became the

friend of the philosopher Leibnitz, correspondent of the poet Dryden,

and his letters are full of curious gossip on the most various

subjects--theology, philosophy, literature, including poetry and the

small talk of the day. He was greatly employed and trusted by the

Electress Sophia. His son George was noted as an agriculturist, and his

grandson, Alexander Burnett of Kemnay (by a daughter of Sir Alexander

Burnett of Leys), was long British Secretary of embassy at Berlin, and

attended Frederick the Great in the campaigns of the Seven Years' War;

remaining at the Prussian Court as Chargé d'Affaires after Sir Andrew

Mitchell's death.

James, third son of Craigmyle the Covenanter, married a daughter of the

family of Irvine of Monboddo, a scion of the house of Drum, and having

so acquired that barony, he transmitted it to his descendants, of whom

the most famous was his great-grandson, James Burnett, Lord Monboddo, a

Judge of the Court of Session, an eminent lawyer, and a man of rare

accomplishments, with some whimsical peculiarities. In a treatise on the

origin and progress of language, he was the first seriously to assert

the descent of mankind from the monkey, and that the human race were

originally furnished with tails! That and a hundred other whimsies were

mixed up with a great deal of learning then very rare, and with a

philosophy that dealt in free and daring speculation, of which the world

was not yet worthy.

The first baronet of Leys, besides his brother James of Craigmyle, had

yet another brother, Robert Burnett of Crimond, an eminent advocate,

very learned, and of high moral and religious principle. Though his wife

was a sister of Johnstone of Warriston, he himself, unlike his two

brothers, was an opponent of the Covenant, for which he went into exile

until the Restoration, when he was made a Judge of the Court of Session

as Lord Crimond. He had three sons by the Warriston lady. His eldest,

Sir Thomas Burnett, was physician to royalty from Charles II to Queen

Anne. The third was Gilbert, Bishop of Salisbury, of whom it is not my

intention to give any detailed account. His brilliant talents and great

influence made him many friends, and even more enemies. History is

beginning to do justice to his character without concealing his

weaknesses. He seems to have been more honest than was the fashion

in his time.

Such is the little gathering of family history, for the accuracy of

which I am chiefly indebted to my kind friend the Lord Lyon--himself a

Burnett. Perhaps I should apologise for saying even the little I have

said of the Dean's pedigree; but while I press into my service the

country of his birth and breeding, and the local peculiarities amongst

which his life was spent, as possibly having some influence on his

character, I could not resist the wish to show another element, drawn

from his ancestry, that went to the forming of that character. Was not

our Dean a worthy representative of Puritan leaders who refused to go

into the violence of the Covenant--of the Bishop of unreproached life,

who read the Thirty-nine Articles with an unconcealed desire to include

conscientious Dissenters--of many peaceful gentlemen on the banks of the

Dee, who mixed a happy playful humour with a catholic reverence for that

Christianity which he could recognise in other sects, though

preferring his own?

FOOTNOTES:

[7] The present generation of Burnetts think that those slang names were

invented by Barclay, but I knew him well, and venture to doubt his

humorous powers. In the midst of "sporting" and violent excitement he

was serious in talk, as became the descendant of the old Quakers.

[8] Mrs. Russell had lost her two sons by a strange fatality--both were

drowned, the elder, Lockhart, while skating at Bath, about 1805-6,

James, the younger, in crossing the river Dee in a boat rowed by

himself in 1827.

III.

Edward Ramsay left Somersetshire amidst the general regrets of his

parishioners and neighbours, and entered on his Edinburgh career 1st

January 1824. The journal which I am now using has not hitherto spoken

much of the differing opinions of his brother clergymen, although there

is sometimes a clergyman noted as "very low," and elsewhere, one branded

as a "concealed Papist." But in Edinburgh--it is vain to conceal

it--every profession must be broken into parties. He found Edinburgh, or

rather I should say the Episcopal Church in Edinburgh, then

theologically divided between the Evangelicals, headed by the Rev.

Edward Craig and the old-fashioned Churchmen, the rather moral school,

of which Mr. Alison was the distinguished ornament. Mr. Ramsay went to

St. George's Chapel, York Place, as Mr. Shannon's curate, in the

beginning of 1824, and remained doing that duty for two and a half

years. He then went to St. Paul's, Carrubber's Close, where he laboured

for a year.

In 1825 Ramsay "toiled on" with sermons and wrote a series on the

Articles. "A great improvement," he says, "must have taken place in

Edinburgh, for unquestionably the sermons I then got credit for we

should all think little of now[9]." In 1826 he left Mr. Shannon's

chapel, and took the single charge of the quaint old chapel of St.

Paul's, Carrubber's Close. Amongst the events recorded of the year was

the acquaintance he made by officiating at the funeral of Lady Scott,

Sir Walter's wife. In 1827 he mentions a change, "a considerable move to

me, which, under God, has been a good one." He closed with an offer of

the curacy of St. John's, under Bishop Sandford, when he was

thirty-seven years of age. In spring he was ill, and went to visit his

old place and friends in Somerset.--"Interesting, very: received at my

old curacy of Buckland with much joy, and on the whole enjoyed my

visit." At Whitsunday 1827 he came home to enter on St. John's with

Bishop Sandford, being thus half of 1827 in Carrubber's Close and half

in St. John's. I was in Edinburgh then, and can well remember what

general favour accompanied Mr. Ramsay in church and society. Perhaps he

was not prepared for the vehemence of church dissensions among us. I do

not think there was at that time so bitter war between churchmen of the

same profession in England, but the Episcopal Church, of whatever

section, had made great progress then in Scotland. Its fine liturgy, and

more decorous ceremonial, had attracted some. Many of the heads of

country families round Edinburgh have been educated in England, and many

of them have married in England--both circumstances tending to keep up

their attachment to the Episcopal Church; and in their houses the

scholarly, accomplished, agreeable clergyman of the Episcopal Church was

a welcome guest, as well as an adviser and influential friend.

In summer of 1827 the journal tells us his brother Marmaduke paid him a

visit. "We read some Italian--I got a notion of Dante."

At the commencement of 1829 he enters in his journal--"This was a most

important year indeed, the year of my marriage; and what event has been

to me so joyful, so full of interesting recollections?" He tells that in

the summer a visitor came to Scotland--a friend of Lady Dalhousie, and

recommended by her to Lady Robert Kerr, at whose house they met. The

lady was Isabella Cochrane, of the well-known Canadian family; writing

in 1844 he says--"Fifteen years of close acquaintance with that lady

have taught me the best commentary upon the Scripture declaration that a

'virtuous woman is a crown to her husband.' I need not say more than

that I believe I owe mainly to her (under Providence) my comfort,

success and position here. But let this suffice. None but myself can

know my full obligations." Next year begins--"As 1829 gave me a wife,

1830 gave me a church, for on the 14th January Bishop Sandford died, and

the whole charge was offered to me, which I undertook for three years

without a curate--i.e. without a man-curate, for a most effective

assistant I had in dearest Isabella, who wrote to my dictation many a

weary hour."

Except a little parcel of letters touching the negotiation with Bishop

Skinner, and the Aberdeen congregation in 1822, I find no letters of

Ramsay till he wrote to one of the dear old friends at Frome announcing

a visit with his wife.

Mr. RAMSAY to Miss STUART SHEPPARD, Fromefield, Frome,

Somerset.

7 Albany Court, London, 9th June [1831].

My dear Stuart, I have been in such a whirl and such a

turmoil since I came here that I have hardly had time to

collect my scattered thoughts to write you a line. I have

seen much and heard much, but shall not attempt to give you

any account _now_, as I hope (please God) we shall meet ere

long. Mrs. Ramsay's brother-in-law, the Bishop of Nova

Scotia, is here--he preached the annual sermon for the

anniversary meeting of the Charity Children in St. Paul's. I

went as his chaplain, but of this more hereafter. He has been

very urgent upon us to protract our stay here through all

next week, but I have resisted his importunities, as I am

really desirous of taking as much time as I can at Frome. We

accordingly fix Tuesday for leaving London. We stay that day

at Windsor with a friend, come to Winchester, Romsey,

Salisbury, on Wednesday, and on Thursday the 16th, I hope to

see you all in health and comfort. Dear Stuart, I shall be

happy, really happy, to be amongst you once more. It is to me

like coming _home_. Do not wait dinner or make any

arrangements, because our hour of arrival is uncertain. We

may be detained till the evening seeing sights. Mrs. E.B.R.

eats nothing (literally), and I daresay your common dinner

may furnish _me_ with a meal. Mrs. Ramsay desires kindest

love; she is not looking well, and I hope, after the racket

here, she will improve upon Frome quiet. God bless you.--Your

affectionate

E.B.R.

Marked--"First visit to F.F. with wife, June 9,1831."

Mr. RAMSAY to Miss STUART SHEPPARD, Fromefield.

Woburn, Friday night, 1st July [1831].

We are sure that our very dear friends at Fromefield will be

interested in hearing of our progress and welfare, and as we

have a few extra minutes this morning, we are determined to

devote them to a party now living in the hearts of _all_ the

wanderers with whom they so lately and so grievously parted:

the _weather_ even _sympathised_ on Tuesday evening, and all

the comfort we had was in talking over individually the whole

Fromefield concern. My brother, who is _slow_ in making

friends, and shy of strangers, softened into tender

friendship under the influence of such kindness, and vows

that if he had such friends he would travel annually from

Edinburgh to see them. He has put one sprig of verbena from

Stuart in one pocket, another sprig from Jane in another

pocket, and a piece of painted glass from Elizabeth in

another pocket. How lucky it is that his dress should be so

abundantly supplied with the accommodation of so many

receptacles for reminiscences! Our next grief after leaving

you was the not seeing Cousin John! We were sadly

disappointed. We did not get into Clifton till near ten; the

rain would prevent his coming to meet us, and the next

morning we very provokingly missed each other, though Mr.

Ramsay consoled himself with writing a note. How much I hope

and trust that we are all to meet next year! We were

delighted with our drive from Chepstow to Ross--the Wye

scenery is exquisitely beautiful; we exhausted ourselves and

our epithets in exclamations, and the day seemed made for the

magnificent view from the Wynd Cliff, and then we came to

Tintern Abbey! How often we wished for our Chedder party--how

often we talked over the pleasure we would have in admiring

all this beauty with them, and how often, like spoiled

children, we wondered why all this enjoyment should not have

accompanied us to Monmouth! but good-night, my very dear

friends--I shall leave the letter in better hands for

finishing, I am so sleepy!!

[Mr. Ramsay]--We have seen many things of which the ingenious

and very learned Dr. Woodward would say that they were "great

ornaments to our ponds and ditches." But of this enough, and

more than enough. Allow me to take this opportunity of

expressing my satisfaction at finding how completely Mrs.

E.B.R enters into the friendship which has so long existed

between _us_, and at seeing how fully prepared she is to

appreciate your kindness to myself and her; in short, to find

that she loves you all now, as if she had known you as long

as I have. May we never lose sight of these feelings! We saw

Oxford to-day--a good thing, but in detail not equal to

Cambridge--in general effect far superior. Gloster pleased

me: the tower and cloisters surpassingly fine. People do not

roar enough about the steeple of St. Mary's, Oxford--it is

_the finest_ in England, superior I think to that of

Salisbury. Are you aware that there is a modern church at

Oxford in the pure Norman style? My visit to Frome has given

me (except in parting) unmixed satisfaction. I cannot say how

much I have been gratified, and with what pleasure I look

forward to a renewal. I must to bed, my eyes cannot discern

the place to write in, and I am sleepy. Adieu, dearest

friends, one and all at the Field of Frome, the Hill of

Styles, the cottage of Keyford, etc. I rejoice to think that

my good friend _Kay_ is safe. Good-night! Woburn looks

well--"a great ornament," etc.

Marked by Mrs. Clerk--"Written on their way from F.F.--first

visit."

Mr. RAMSAY to Miss BYARD, Fromefield, Frome, Somerset.

Edinburgh, Dec. 17, 1831,

My dearest Friend, They have told me that you are not well,

and neither time nor distance can take away the feeling of

regard and friendship with which I sympathise with all that

occurs to you. I confess myself that I was some time since

disposed to look on all things around me with an anxious

aspect; but I am beginning to see in _all events_ but a part

of that dispensation which is so gloriously distinguished as

the work of _love_, and I think that public calamity or

private sorrow, sickness, pain, weariness and weakness, _may_

all be translated into the same language, and may be arranged

as synonyms of the same word. Yes! piety, goodness, the

favour and approbation of God, are all marked out by sorrow

and infirmity here. Why else did the blessed Jesus tabernacle

here below--a man of sorrows? and why else was he acquainted

with grief? It might make a Christian almost drink his cup of

sickness and pain with _greediness_ when he remembers that he

is tasting the same cup as that of which his Lord drank, and

he might hail with rapture the outstretched arm of death and

suffering as about to place on his head the diadem of eternal

glory. I am not to flatter you--you need it not, you ask it

not; but, my friend, you must feel and know that you have

been walking with God, walking _humbly_, doing good, neither

trusting to false presumptions nor to your own merits. Christ

has been _your_ master, to Him you have looked, and, blessed

be God! He will never, never forsake those who trust to

Him,--those who are good to others for his sake,--those who

seek redemption through Him. Where, O ye years that are past,

have you gone? You have carried to the throne of grace many

an act of contrition, many a devout prayer, many a good deed,

many an offering of faith, from the friend to whom I now

write. Bring back, ye moments that are to come and which

shall be granted to her in this world, rich consolations,

promises of pardon, assurances of favour, all spiritual

blessings! Dear Miss Byard, may all these be yours in full

abundance. May God the Father bless you, through the Eternal

Spirit, for Christ's sake! This is the sincere and earnest

prayer of your affectionate and faithful friend, E.B.R.

In this I am joined by Isabella.

Marked--"It arrived just after her death."

In his journal Mr. Ramsay speaks of Bishop Sandford with a very grateful

recollection. To him he owed his preferment, and a "more agreeable

charge could not well be had." He characterises him as a man of elegant

mind and accurate scholarship, of deep piety and sincere faith. I think

it is with some regret that he adds, the "state of the Church is much

changed since his episcopate."

His dear brother Marmaduke died in the summer of 1831, and the Dean, who

is no exaggerator of his feelings, remarks--"This is one of the sorrows

for which language is inadequate. Such a mind, such taste, abilities,

and accomplishments!" Edward Ramsay felt that nothing could make up for

the loss of his brother, but he had comfort in thinking how much his

brother's mind had been wakened to religious inquiries. His simple notes

in his journal are sometimes worth preserving. "July 6, 1833, was the

finest day I ever remember." He passed it in the Highlands with

Professor Forbes, Skenes, and other delightful friends. On the 28th he

left for the Duke of Sutherland's funeral; afterwards he repaired to

Leamington and Dr. Jephson, whose skill he soon found reason to admire.

On leaving Leamington he thanks God that he has gained in health, and

learnt also wisdom in regard to the "management of myself, and certainly

in diet." It is not necessary to record the little tours with his wife,

which now happened almost every season, either to Deeside or the

Highlands or his old haunts in Somerset. On July 2, 1836, I find it

recorded that he went with a party to hear Dr. Chalmers at the Dean

Church, and returned all in great delight. He made a long journey that

year to hear the great organ at Birmingham, and came home by many

cathedrals, and yet "glad to get home."

In 1838 he notes, after a Highland journey, the "Synod was this year for

altering the canons," He notes a "white-stone visit to the Stranges,

Ross-end Castle, with the Bells. Alas! how many things and people

are gone."

In 1839 "Lady Dalhousie, my admired friend, came to stay with us. She

came January 19, and on the 22d died in the drawing-room in an instant!

It was an awful visitation, and never to be forgotten."

The following letter, written immediately after the calamity, is from

the Marquis of Dalhousie, from various circumstances an object of great

affection to the Dean, who consented to take charge of his daughters

when he went as Governor-General to India, bestowing on them the care

and anxious watchfulness which the young ladies returned with hearty

affection:--

The MARQUIS OF DALHOUSIE to DEAN RAMSAY.

Dalhousie Castle, 25th January 1839.

My dear Mr. Ramsay--I have sent John in, partly because I am

anxious that you should let me know how Mrs. Ramsay is

to-day, and partly because I cannot rest till another evening

without endeavouring to express to you some portion of the

very, very deep gratitude which I feel for all your

kindness--for the kindness of your every act and word, and--I

am just as confident--of your every thought towards us all in

this sad time. _God knows how truly I feel it_: and with that

one expression I stop; for it makes me sick to think how slow

and how coldly words come to clothe the feeling which I wish

to convey to you. Believe only this, that to my own dying day

I never can forget your goodness. Believe this too--that

since it has pleased Almighty God that my poor mother's eyes

should not he closed under my roof, and by my hand, I would

not have wished any other place for her departure than among

friends so kindly, loving, and so well loved.

God bless you and repay it to you, prays your ever grateful

and affectionate friend, DALHOUSIE.

Rev. E. B. Ramsay.

February 27, 1839.--"My uncle General Burnett died; another limb of the

older generation gone; a good and kind man; a man of the world, and not

a clever one. Latterly he showed a considerable desire to know more

about religion. Went with J. Sandilands to be present at the formation

of a branch of the Church Society at Glasgow--made a regular speech!" On

September 4th he writes--"The first day of meeting of the general

committee for business of the Scottish Episcopal Church Society. I gave

a large dinner. Much have I worked for this society, and done better

things than give dinners. By the by William Ramsay [his brother the

admiral] made a capital speech." On March 5, 1841, it is noted, Bishop

Walker died--"a good man. His mind cast in a limited mould of strong

prejudices; but a fair man, strictly honest in all his ways. He was not

fitted to unravel difficulties in his episcopate, and scarcely suited to

these times. He had been a furious opponent of the old evangelicals. A

constant and kind friend to me. May his memory be honoured. Bishop

Terrot elected bishop. I am very grateful to think that in all this

business I can look with satisfaction upon everything that has been

done by me."

From this time Mr. Ramsay's thoughts were very much taken up with the

Episcopal Church Society, and he records in his journal most of its

meetings, and the English friends who came across the Borders to help

them. He mentions also a Scotch Presbyterian churchman who became

convinced of the apostolical authority of episcopacy--"an excellent

man." Then a visit of Mr. ----, "an accomplished and able man, somewhat

strong of the popish leaven." That was in 1842, and on the margin is

written--"Gone over to the Church of Rome, 1845." He mentions also the

"stupid business at Portobello and squabbles," and his going down to

make peace. On September 4th we have some things which seemed important

at their time--the Queen's visit to Scotland. He says, "It was a

stirring subject for old Scotland." "This day, 4th Sept., I read prayers

and preached before her Majesty, and also dined and sat near Prince

Albert and the Queen. In the evening presented to the Queen and Prince

Albert, and introduced to Sir Robert Peel." Then comes the cry--"All

vanity of vanities!" At the end of this month the Bishop of

London--"very agreeable"--was in Edinburgh, and the Dean accompanied him

to Glenalmond, to see the proposed site for Trinity College. In 1843 he

mentions the death of a friend, who, he feared, died an infidel:

"However, I have no wish to proclaim his errors. To me he was ever kind

and considerate. Let us leave judgment to Him who cannot err." In June

of that year he paid a visit to England, spent Sunday at Leeds, and was

much interested with Dr. Hook and his church. "I have considerable

dubitation as to the expediency of making the services of our parish

churches choral." He went on to London and Oxford, where it was long

vacation, but he met with great kindness from the heads of University

College and Exeter. "Magdalene is faultless."

After mentioning some visitors in March 1844, he writes--"Dickens's

Christmas Carol really a treat, a thoroughly wholesome book." On the 8th

April he was present at the lunch given to the children of the Episcopal

poor in the Old Town. "This, I trust, is the commencement of a scheme to

bring some actually poor into our church. I made a speech, and, to my

astonishment, rather a good one." After a pretty long tour in the south

of England he comes home in August 1844, and notes a letter from the

Bishop of London, containing the offer of the Bishopric of New

Brunswick, in a handsome and gratifying manner. "I think I was right to

refuse. May God forgive me if it was an improper shrinking from duty."

October 14, 1844: "I have now brought up this record of my life's

transactions to the present time, and my purpose is, in future

journalising, to take the leading points, to notice subjects only,

painful, joyful, or difficult. All my thoughts since the offer of the

New Brunswick mitre have confirmed the correctness of my judgment."

October 17, 1844: "I am trying to repeat the experiment of last week,

and write my sermon over again. I see clearly that in such work we

cannot take too much pains: dinner at Lord Medwyn's to-day--very

pleasant--rather an exception this to dinners: how dull the routine!

October 22: succeeded in my resolution of rewriting the whole of my

sermon, and found the advantage; in fact, nothing in the way of public

speaking can be done without a thorough preparation. How high parties

are running! It has a sad effect on my mind; but my refuge must be in

keeping off controversy and adhering to edifying and practical

subjects." In the same month he records the death of a dear friend, whom

he visited on his deathbed. "Nothing," he says, "could be more

satisfactory than his state of mind;" the Dean lost a kind Christian,

attached and delightful friend. "I was glad to be able to answer his

scruples and fears about being an object of Christ's mercy and pardon."

December 11, 1844, he lost his mother--"simple-minded," he says, "as a

child. Oh! what a break of the family circle! It seems as if the last

link which bound us together were broken, and a point vanished round

which we could always rally. I went with Lauderdale to see the poor

remains, so attenuated, and yet the countenance like itself, still

beautiful, and fine features." The funeral made the Dean very sad. She

was followed to the grave by two sons, a son-in-law, two grandsons and

distant cousins. Mr. Alison read the service, and she was buried beside

her old friend of fifty years--poor Mrs. Macdonald.

1844: "Christmas day morning, Communion 78, in all 404; the church so

full. I preached an old but a good sermon." He has a Christmas dinner of

a few friends, but not much Christmas spirit, he says. In 1845, January

12, the journal notices--"I preached my liturgy sermon, and apparently

with much success." Some of his congregation had spoken of it as worthy

to be printed. He saw a good deal of company in his own house, whom I do

not think it necessary to particularise, though they were generally of

distinction for talent or rank, or both together. He heard C. Kemble

read Henry VIII., which "I did much enjoy. Will. Shakspeare when most

known is most admired." On 19th January he preached a sermon, but his

note upon it is not like the last. "I liked it, but it did not seem to

take as I had expected. Have been much meditating this week on many

matters, Church especially: find myself unsettled, I fear, but I think I

have the remedy, which is to keep my attention fixed rather on practical

than on speculative points. We cannot agree on the one; on the other we

may, and good men do." March 2, 1845: "I confess that the Romanising

tendencies so openly avowed in the Church of England alarm me. The

question occurs, Is not this a necessary, or at least a natural tendency

of High Churchism?" Speaking of meetings of his Synod, he says "it is

wretched work, which ended, indeed, in doing nothing." One member had

spoken with much bitterness, which he says, "thank God, I do not feel."

3d April 1845: "We are in a nice mess about this Old Town business. Two

different communion offices in one day in the same chapel. Is it

possible that this could ever have been contemplated by the canon? I do

fear the extreme and Romanising party, and they hurt us here. The Scotch

office is supposed to identify us with them, and certainly the comments

upon it make it speak a language very different from the English."

June 19.--"Left home in the 'Engineer' coach at seven, travelled through

to London without stop, and arrived there at one o'clock: wonderful the

shortening of this journey; went with a party to Handel's Athalia at

Exeter Hall; tired, fagged, and sleepy as I was, I yet felt deeply the

power of the mighty master in this his mighty work. Yes, Handel is the

greatest musician the world ever saw."

July 18, 1845.--"Returned to London: did little more there: arrived in

Edinburgh for Mr. Sandiland's marriage, a great stretch of friendship in

me, for it has discomposed all our summer plans." On 15th August there

is an entry too characteristic to be omitted:--"Have been thinking a

great deal about the state of matters at present, and the sort of

demeanour I should exhibit to the world. I should be very

cautious--hardly give an opinion if conflicting statements, and

certainly not gossip about them--certainly not speak harshly or severely

of any. Keep my own course, work hard, and endeavour to conciliate;

rather lean to high than low side." November 10, 1845: "at a meeting to

hear Dr. Simpson, Mr. Macfarlane, and Norman Macleod give an account of

their mission to North America: interesting. Macleod a real

clever fellow."

26th November 1845.--"The consecration of Dalkeith Chapel: we went out

and stayed the day; all good and well managed: Sermon preached by Rev.

E. B. R: approved: three bishops, twenty clergy. It is really a fine

thing for a man to have done; a beautiful chapel; hope it won't

be extreme."

Dec. 2.--"Warden to College appointed; looks like business!"

Dec. 7.--"Heard astonishing news--William appointed to the 'Terrible,

the largest steam man-of-war in the service--in the world."

Dec. 14, 1845.--"Sermon on Christ the True Light. Collection for

Scottish Episcopal Church Society, £151."

15th March 1846.--"Sermon, 'Am I your enemy because I tell you the

truth?' Here a sad blank, for I have been very ill, and out of chapel

two Sundays, and could not go to confirmation, and all sorts of horrors.

I have communed a good deal with myself, and I have made up my mind to a

conduct and demeanour in Church matters almost neutral. I positively

will not again mix myself up in any way with party, or even take part. I

will confine myself to St. John's and its duties. This is my

_line_--hear what every one has to say, and keep a quiet, conciliatory,

and even tenor. It is more striking the more I think of the different

way in which different minds are affected by religious truth." ...

April 16.--"Synod meeting and Society. I took the moderate and

conciliatory side. Did right this time."

April 29.--"Preached the Casuistry sermon. Mrs. R. made it A 20."

June 1.--"Busy preparing for journey;" he leaves home for his summer

holiday "with rather less spirit and expectation of enjoyment

than usual."

Mr. Ramsay was appointed Dean of the Diocese of Edinburgh by Bishop

Terrot in 1846, after having previously declined, as we saw, the dignity

of the Bishopric of New Brunswick, offered him by Sir Robert Peel. He

afterwards refused the Bishopric of Glasgow in 1847, and the

Coadjutor-Bishopric of Edinburgh in 1862.

And now is the beginning of constantly recurring complaints of

depression--low spirits, a "cloud upon my spirits; headache, even pain

and violent pain." He was disappointed at not getting to see the

"Terrible;" was low and depressed. "Went to Bath. Delighted with

Torquay; interested at Exeter; the service there the very best. Is

cathedral service more than a solemn concert?" Then he went by

Beaminster to see his nephew Alexander and his family. He stayed a short

time at Crewkerne with his niece Mrs. Sparks. "Church a fine one: To

Frome: This visit full of interest. How kind and good! The only drawback

is parting. We spent a week at Frome, and did enjoy it much. Much

kindness, heartiness I should say, intelligence, and real goodness.

Changes I found, and saw how time had told on many a face and frame. My

dear companion was much pleased and interested in our visit.... July

16.--Left Frome, and sorrowed at parting. Saw Sydney Herbert's gorgeous

church at Wilton. Too much! With the exterior of Salisbury not at all

disappointed; with the interior a little. Arrived at Farnborough by

eight o'clock, and a most cordial welcome we had from all the inmates of

its pretty rectory. Went back to London on Friday, and returned to

Farnborough Saturday, and spent Sunday. July 19.--Was glad for Isabella

to have an opportunity of seeing a Sunday in a country place in England.

I preached twice, and we were interested. Aug. 4.--Came to York.

Glorious! Chapter-house restored by Mr. Bell."

January 1, 1851.--"Having preached on Sunday last regarding improvement

and good resolutions, I would now do the same for myself. I have made

some resolutions in my own mind, chiefly regarding the control and

regulation of temper, irritability, forbearance, more composed and calm

temperament, order, diligence, dispatch of work, etc." On January 6th

there is a Ragged School meeting--"a long and tiresome meeting; the Duke

of A---- speaks well; Guthrie amusing; Fox Maule good; Candlish

clever--very."

On his birthday in 1853 he writes: "I have just made two

resolves--first, never to give way to temper, fret, ill-humour, party

spirit, or prejudice; second, to work my best in what I may have

still to do."

There is a great deal more of the journal, but one or two additional

extracts will show sufficiently the nature of the man, his devotion to

his sacred duty, his gentleness, and love of peace. The High Churchman

may think him unduly careless about forms and ceremonies; but, loving

him very well, I yet wish to represent the Dean as he really was. Above

all things full of charity, loving religion as he understood the

religion of the Gospel, and not much concerned, not really deeply

concerned, about the shape and dress in which it presented itself. He

held, however, that the Protestant Episcopal Church, as established in

England, as disestablished in Scotland, for he never would separate

them, was in all its belongings the most desirable, its service the

most decent.

1858 was a sad year for the Dean. Mrs. Ramsay had been very ill, and

sinking in strength and spirit visibly, till, on the 23d July the

afflicted husband makes this entry:--"It pleased God to visit me with

the deep and terrible affliction of taking away my friend, companion,

and adviser of twenty-nine years." It was a heavy blow, and for a time

it seemed to paralyse the Dean. This journal, never regular, becomes

from this time quite broken.

Looking back from this point, which to the Dean seemed the end of

happiness, he could acknowledge how duty supplied the place of pleasure.

He was grateful also for many mercies. In one respect he was singularly

fortunate. His Bishop and he, I may say during all the time he served in

St. John's, were cordially of the same way of thinking. Bishop Terrot

was indeed a very different man from himself, but in the relations of

Bishop and Dean they were very happy. The Dean wrote a little memoir of

Bishop Terrot, which he published in the _Scottish Guardian_ (May 15,

1872), where he prints the remarkable letter from the Bishop to himself,

answering the question why he declined communion with Mr. Drummond, and

ending with the sentence--"These are matters of _ecclesiastical police_

which each local church has a right to manage in its own way, subject to

the law of the Catholic Church, i.e. the Bible." The Dean then bore

testimony that he had always found his Bishop an interesting companion,

a kind friend, a faithful and judicious adviser, and he speaks highly,

and surely not too highly, of his great intellectual powers, as well as

of his moral qualities. I am myself a very hearty admirer of Bishop

Terrot, and I think it not out of place to add something to our

knowledge of him, by printing a few letters which concern him and

his family.

COLONEL TERROT to DEAN RAMSAY.--Without date, but of the

year 1872.

Very Rev. and dear Sir--There is one little incorrect

deduction in your kind memoir, or at least a deduction which

may be made from what you say of my father deriving his

intellect from his mother---that my grandfather was inferior

in such respects. From deep feeling and devotion to his

memory, my grandmother never spoke of her husband to us, but

from others I have heard that he was a bright, handsome and

talented young man, who, with the very imperfect education

given at that time to officers in the army, and employed in

active service in America at the age of fourteen, was yet

distinguished for ability, especially in mathematics and

engineering matters, so that he was employed by those in

command of the siege, and was actually riding with the

engineer who was in charge of the sieging operations when a

cannon-ball struck and killed him. He was in an English

infantry regiment, and not in the Indian service, except that

the regiment was serving in India at the time. He met my

grandmother in the ship which took them to India. She was

going to a maternal uncle, Colonel Hughes, who was

considerably displeased on her announcing at Madras that she

was engaged to a poor young officer who had offered to her

during the voyage. But the young couple being determined, he

gave his consent, and continued kind to his niece, and my

father was born in his house, and at his father's request

called Hughes after him. My grandfather was twenty-five and

his bride eighteen at their marriage, and she was a widow

before she was twenty, from which time till she died at

eighty-five she was a widow indeed, making her son the chief

object of her life, living in and for him.

His uncle William, whom he succeeded at Haddington, was never

married, and was exceedingly attached to my father. He was a

singular man; in his early days very gay and handsome, and

living in some matters, I know not what, so incorrectly, that

on offering himself for holy orders, the then Bishop of

Durham wrote to him mentioning something he had heard, and

telling him if it was true he was not fitly prepared for

taking orders. My uncle acknowledged the accusation as far as

it was true, and thanked the Bishop for his letter, and

abstained from coming forward at that time, but took the

admonition so to heart that it led to an entire conversion of

heart and life. He then came forward in a very different

state to receive ordination, and was through his whole life a

most zealous and devoted man, a friend of Milner and

Wilberforce. An old lady, Mrs. Logan of Seafield, told me

that once when Mrs. Siddons was acting, uncle William walked

twenty miles to see her and persuade her not to go, and,

whether by arguments or eloquence, he succeeded. Though kind

and gentle he was a strong Calvinist, and by his zeal and

energy in preaching such doctrines, injured himself in a

worldly point of view. He was always poor, and often gave

away all the little he had, and lived from hand to mouth. He

was very much admired and beloved by ladies, which perhaps

prevented his marrying. He was very happy and useful among

the sailors, and died at his sister's, Mrs. Jackson, at

Woolwich. She, as Elizabeth Terrot, had been a beauty, and

was to the last a fine, happy, spirited, contented and joking

old lady, very fond of my father, to whom she left all she

had. She was bright, unselfish and amusing, even on her

deathbed incapable of despondency or gloom.

Excuse my troubling you with these details; and believe me to

be truly grateful for your graceful tribute to our dear

father. I send a few lines for your private eye, written by

my sister Mary, expressing what she felt on last seeing him,

and it expresses, too, exactly what I felt that last Good

Friday as he sat in that chair in which he had so long

suffered. I never saw him there again, With deep respect,

gratefully yours, S.A. TERROT.

LINES by MISS MARY TERROT, now MRS. MALCOLM.

I.

Sad, silent, broken down, longing for rest,

His noble head bent meekly on his breast,

Bent to the bitter storm that o'er it swept;

I looked my last, and surely, then I thought,

Surely the conflict's o'er, the battle's fought;

To see him thus, the Saviour might have wept.

II.

His rest was near--his everlasting rest;

No more I saw him weary and oppressed.

_There_ in the majesty of death he lay

For ever comforted: I could not weep;

He slept, dear father! his last blessed sleep,

Bright in the dawn of the eternal day.

III.

And thou, whose hand _his_, groping, sought at last,

The faithful hand that he might hold it fast!

Once more, when parting on the eternal shore,

It may be, when thy heart and hand shall fail,

Entering the shadows of death's awful vale

His hand shall grasp thine, groping then no more.

DEAN STANLEY to DEAN RAMSAY.

My dear Dean--Many thanks for your very interesting memoir of

Bishop Terrot. His remark about _humdrum_ and _humbug_ is

worthy of the best days of Sydney Smith, and so is a hit

about table-turning[10]. I once heard him preach, and still

remember with pleasure the unexpected delight it gave to my

dear mother and myself. We did not know in the least what was

coming, either from the man or the text, and it was

excellent.--Yours sincerely,

A.P. STANLEY.

Deanery, Westminster, 1872.

Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE to DEAN RAMSAY.

Hawarden, May 26, 1872

My dear Friend--I have read with much interest your graceful

and kindly memoir of Bishop Terrot, which you were so good as

to send me.

He had always appeared to me as a very real and notable, and

therefore interesting man, though for some reason not

apparent a man _manqué_, a man who ought to have been more

notable than he was. I quite understand and follow you in

placing him with, or rather in the class of, Whately and

Paley, but he fell short of the robust activity of the first,

and of that wonderful clearness of the other, which is actual

brightness.

Your account of the question of Lordship is to me new and

interesting. I have never called the Scottish Bishops by that

title. I should be content to follow the stream, but then we

must deal equally, and there is the case of the Anglo-Roman

bishop to meet, especially now that the Ecclesiastical Titles

Bill has been repealed; but only on Friday I addressed one of

the very best among them "Right Rev. Bishop M----."

You will, I am sure, allow me the license of private judgment

in the two expositions about the church in p. 5. You praise

both, but the second the more highly. To me the first seems

excellent, and the second, strange to say, wanting in his

usual clearness and consecutiveness. For having in head (1)

most truly said that Christ "instituted a society _and_

revealed a doctrine," he then proceeds as if he had quite

forgotten the first half of the proposition, and conceived of

the society only as (so to speak) embedded in the doctrine.

Also, I complain of his depriving you of the character of

[Greek: iegeus], which indeed I am rather inclined to claim

for myself, as "He hath made us kings and priests" ([Greek:

hiegeis]).

I hope you are gradually maturing the idea of your promised

summer expedition to the south, and that before long I shall

hear from you on the subject of it.

Will you remember me kindly to Miss Cochrane, and believe me,

ever affectionately yours,

W.E. GLADSTONE.

The Dean was greatly affected by a terrible calamity, which happened in

his house in Ainslie Place, where, in June of 1866, his niece Lucy

Cochrane, one of his family, was burnt to death; out of many letters of

condolence which he received at the time, I have only space to insert

three--one from the Rev. Dr. Hannah, then head of Glenalmond College, an

accomplished scholar, to whom our Dean was much attached, and upon whom

he drew very freely in any questions of more recondite scholarship,

another from the Rev. D.T.K. Drummond, and the third from the Premier:--

Rev. Dr. J. HANNAH to DEAN RAMSAY.

Trinity College, Glenalmond, N.B.

June 15, 1866.

Dear Mr. Dean--I _must_ write one line, though I know you

will be overwhelmed with letters, to say how deeply

distressed and shocked we are at the news in this morning's

paper, and how profoundly we sympathize with you under this

fearful affliction. I thought instantly of Mr. Keble's lovely

poem in the Lyra Innocentium:--

"Sweet maiden, for so calm a life,

Too bitter seemed thine end."

And it applies closely, I am sure, in the consolations it

suggests; that

"He who willed her tender frame

Should rear the martyr's robe of flame,"

has prepared for her a garland in Heaven,

"Tinged faintly with such golden light

As crowns His martyr train."

But if blessed for her, it will be a sore trial for the

survivors. We feel so keenly for her poor sisters, who seem

to have to bear the brunt of so many sorrows. May God support

them and you! So prays in hearty sympathy, yours ever

sincerely,

J. HANNAH.

Rev. D.T.K. DRUMMOND to DEAN RAMSAY.

St. Fillans, Crieff, 16th June.

My dear Friend--This morning's paper brought us the sad, sad

intelligence of the frightful calamity which has befallen

your household.

My heart aches when I think of the overwhelming sorrow this

great affliction must bring to your kind and loving heart.

Long friendship and unbroken esteem must be my apology for

intruding on you at this early stage of your bereavement. I

cannot but express my deep and heart-felt sympathy with you

in it, and my earnest prayer that God the Holy Spirit may

sanctify and comfort by his own grace and presence all on

whom this great sorrow has fallen.

In the expression of this sympathy my dear wife cordially

unites with yours most affectionately and truly,

D.T.K. DRUMMOND.

Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE to DEAN RAMSAY.

11 Carlton H. Terrace,

June 16, 1866.

My dear Dean Ramsay--I cannot refrain from writing to you a

word of sympathy under the grievous calamity with which your

peaceful and united household has in the providence of God

been visited. I have only heard of it in a very partial

account to-day; but I deeply lament alike the extinction of a

young and promising life, the loss your affectionate heart

has sustained, and the circumstances of horror with which it

has been accompanied. I need not say how this concern extends

to your brother the Admiral also. I shall hope to hear of you

through some common friend. I cannot ask you to write, but

beg you to believe me always affectionately yours,

W.E. GLADSTONE.

Very few of the Dean's own letters have been preserved, but the

following will show him as a correspondent:--

DEAN RAMSAY to Dr. ALEXANDER.

23 Ainslie Place, Feb. 3, 1865

Dear Dr. Lindsay Alexander--I am not aware of having an

undue predominance of modesty in my nature, but really I have

been surprised, I may truly say much amazed, at the

dedication of the volume which I received this evening. Need

I add that, on more calmly considering the matter, I am

deeply gratified. From Dr. Lindsay Alexander such a

compliment can be no ordinary gratification. "Laudari a

laudatis" has always been a distinction coveted by those who

value the opinion of the wise and good.

I thank you most cordially for the delicacy with which you

refer to the "most stedfast adherence to conviction" of one

who has long been convinced that no differences in matter of

polity or forms of worship ought to violate that "unity of

spirit," or sever that "bond of peace," in which we should

ever seek to join all those whom we believe sincerely to hold

the truth as it is in Jesus.--I am always, with sincere

regard, yours truly and obliged,

E.B. RAMSAY.

DEAN RAMSAY to Mrs. CLERK, Kingston Deverell.

23 Ainslie Place,

Edinburgh, March 14, 1865.

Dearest Stuart--I take great blame and sorrow to myself for

having left your kind letter to me on my birthday so long

unanswered. It was indeed a charming letter, and how it took

me back to the days of "Auld lang Syne!" They were happy

days, and good days, and the savour of them is pleasant. Do

you know (you don't know) next Christmas day is forty-two

years since I left Frome, and forty-nine years since I went

to Frome? Well! they were enjoyable days, and rational days,

and kind-hearted days. What jokes we used to have! O dear!

How many are gone whom we loved and honoured! I often think

of my appearing at Frome, falling like a stranger from the

clouds, and finding myself taken to all your hearts, and made

like one of yourselves. Do you know Mrs. Watkins is alive and

clever, and that I constantly correspond with her? You

recollect little Mary Watkins at Berkely. She is now a

grandmother and has three or four grandchildren!--ay, time

passes on. It does. I have had a favoured course in Scotland;

I have been thirty-seven years in St. John's, and met only

with kindness and respect. I have done much for my church,

and that is acknowledged by every one. My Catechism is in a

tenth edition--my Scottish Book in an eleventh; 3000 copies

were sold the first week of the cheap or people's edition. I

meet with much attention from all denominations. A very able

man here, Dr. Lindsay Alexander, an Indpendent, has just

dedicated a book (a good one) to Dean Ramsay, with a

flattering dedication. But I don't expect to hold on _much_

longer. I feel changed, and at times not equal to much

exertion. It was a terrible change for me to lose my

companion of twenty-nine years, and I have never, of course,

recovered that loss. It is a great point for a person like me

to have three nieces, quite devoted to care of me and to make

me happy: cheerful, animated, and intelligent, pretty

also--one of them an excellent musician, and _organist_ to

our amateur choir for week days in the chapel. By the by we

have a glorious organ. How I have gone on about my miserable

self--quite egotistical. "If I may be allowed the language"

(the late Capt. Balne). But I thought you would like it.

Good-bye. Love to Malcolm _Kenmore_. When do your boys come?

Your ever loving and affectionate old friend,

E.B. RAMSAY.

DEAN RAMSAY to Mrs. CLERK.

23 Ainslie Place,

Edinburgh, 12th Feb. 1868.

Many thanks for writing about our beloved Bessie, my very

dear Stuart. She is indeed much endeared to all the friends,

and I am a friend of more than 50 years! God's will be done.

We have come to that age when we must know our time is

becoming very uncertain.

There is only one thing, dearest Stuart, that I _can_

say--my best wishes, best affections, best prayers, are with

her who now lies on a sick bed. _She_ has not to begin the

inquiry into the love and support of a gracious Redeemer. She

may say, "I know that my Redeemer liveth."

May God be merciful and gracious to support you all on this

deeply interesting occasion, is the earnest prayer of your

affectionate old friend, E. B. RAMSAY.

DEAN RAMSAY to Mrs. CLEKK.

23 Ainslie Place,

Edinburgh, 3d June 1870.

My dear Stuart--I had such a kind letter from you some time

ago, about visiting you, and I did not answer it--wrong,

very! and I am sorry I put it off. Should I come to England

this summer I should look on it as a _last_ visit, and would

make an effort to see old Frome again. Do you know it is

fifty-four years since I first appeared at Rodden!

I preach still, and my voice and articulation don't fail; but

otherwise I am changed, and walk I cannot at all. St. John's

goes on as usual--nice people, many, and all are very kind.

We have lately had the interior renewed, and some changes in

the arrangement, which are great improvement. It is much

admired, "a great ornament to our ponds and ditches,"--Dr.

Woodward. However, dear Stuart, I have not yet said

distinctly enough what I meant to say at the beginning--that

should I come south I would make an effort to come to

K. Deverell.

Miss Walker has left fully £200,000 to our church. I am at

present (as Dean) the only Episcopal trustee, with four

official trustees--all Presbyterians.

The Bishops seem the most _go-ahead_ people in the church

just now. New sectioning and revision of Scripture,

translation, all come from them: both of much importance. I

wish they could get rid of the so-called Athanasian Creed. I

cannot bear it. Nothing on earth could ever induce me to

repeat the first part and the last part. Love to yourself,

husband, and all yours.--Your affectionate

E.B. RAMSAY.

DEAN STANLEY to DEAN RAMSAY.

Broomhall, Dunfermline,

7th August 1870.

My dear and venerable Brother Dean--It was very ungrateful of

me not to have thanked you before for your most kind

vindication of my act in Westminster Abbey. I had read your

letter with the greatest pleasure, and must now thank you for

letting me have a separate copy of it. I certainly have no

reason to be dissatisfied with my defenders. All the bishops

who have spoken on the subject (with the single exception of

the Bishop of Winchester) have approved the step--so I

believe have a vast majority of English churchmen.

How any one could expect that I should make a distinction

between confirmed and unconfirmed communicants, which would

render any administration in the abbey impossible, or that I

should distinguish between the different shades of orthodoxy

in the different nonconformist communions, I cannot conceive.

I am sure that I acted as a good churchman. I humbly hope

that I acted as He who first instituted the Sacrament of the

Lord's Supper would have wished.

You are very kind to have taken so much interest in my

essays, and what you say of the Athanasian Creed is deeply

instructive. You will be glad to hear--what will become

public in a few days--that of the 29 Royal Commissioners, 18

at least--including the Archbishop of Canterbury and the

Bishops of St. David's and Carlisle and the two Regius

Professors of Divinity--have declared themselves against

continuing the use of it.

I found your note here when we arrived last night to assist

at the coming of age of young Lord Elgin. We were obliged to

pass rapidly through Edinburgh, in order to reach this by

nightfall. In case I am able to come over this week to

Edinburgh, should I find you at home, and at what hour?

It would probably be on Thursday that I could most easily

come.--Yours sincerely,

A.P. STANLEY.

DEAN RAMSAY to Rev. MALCOLM CLERK,

Kingston Deverell, Warminster, Wilts.

23 Ainslie Place, Edin., Sept. 5 [1872].

My dear Malcolm Clerk--Many thanks for your remarks touching

the Athanasian Creed. I agree quite, and am satisfied we gain

nothing by retaining it, and lose much. You ask if I could

help to get facsimiles; I am not likely--not in my line I

fear. Should anything turn up I will look after it. One of

the propositions to which unlimited faith must be given, is

drawn from an analogy, which expresses the most obscure of

all questions in physics--i.e. the union of mind and matter,

the what constitutes one mortal being--all very well to use

in explanation or illustration, but as a positive article of

faith in itself, monstrous. Then the Filioque to be insisted

on as eternal death to deny!

People hold such views. A writer in the _Guardian_ (Mr.

Poyntz) maintains that God looks with more favour upon a man

living in SIN than upon one who has seceded ever so small

from orthodoxy. Something must be done, were it only to stop

the perpetual, as we call it in Scottish phrase,

_blethering_!

I am always glad to hear of your boys. My love to Stuart, and

same to thyself.--Thine affectionate fourscore old friend,

E.B. RAMSAY.

I am preparing a twenty-second edition of _Reminiscences_. Who would

have thought it? No man.

I have not hitherto made any mention of the Dean's most popular book,

the _Reminiscences_. I cannot write but with respect of a work in which

he was very much interested, and where he showed his knowledge of his

countrymen so well. As a critic, I must say that his style is peculiarly

unepigrammatic; and yet what collector of epigrams or epigrammatic

stories has ever done what the Dean has done for Scotland? It seems as

if the wilful excluding of point was acceptable, otherwise how to

explain the popularity of that book? All over the world, wherever Scotch

men and Scotch language have made their way--and that embraces wide

regions--the stories of the _Reminiscences_, and Dean Ramsay's name as

its author, are known and loved as much as the most popular author of

this generation. In accounting for the marvellous success of the little

book, it should not be forgotten that the anecdotes are not only true to

nature, but actually true, and that the author loved enthusiastically

Scotland, and everything Scotch. But while there were so many things to

endear it to the peasantry of Scotland, it was not admired by them

alone. I insert a few letters to show what impression it made on those

whom one would expect to find critical, if not jealous. Dickens, the

king of story-tellers; Dr. Guthrie, the most picturesque of preachers;

Bishop Wordsworth, Dean Stanley, themselves masters of style--how

eagerly they received the simple stories of Scotland told

without ornament.

BISHOP WORDSWORTH to DEAN RAMSAY.

The Feu House, Perth, January 12, 1872.

My dear Dean--Your kind, welcome and most elegant present

reached me yesterday--in bed; to which, and to my sofa, I

have been confined for some days by a severe attack of brow

ague; and being thus disabled for more serious employment, I

allowed my thoughts to run upon the lines which you will find

over leaf. Please to accept them as being _well intended_;

though (like many other good intentions) I am afraid they

give only too true evidence of the source from which they

come--viz., _disordered head._--Yours very sincerely,

C. WORDSWORTH,

_Bp. of St. Andrews_.

Ad virum venerabilem, optimum, dilectissimum, EDVARDUM

B. RAMSAY, S.T.P., Edinburgi Decanum, accepto

ejus libro cui titulus _Reminiscences_, etc.; vicesimum

jam lautiusque et amplius edito.

Editio accessit vicesima! plaudite quiequid

Scotia festivi fert lepidique ferax!

Non vixit frustra qui frontem utcunque severam,

Noverit innocuis explicuisse jocis:

Non frustra vixit qui tot monumenta priorum

Salsa pia vetuit sedulitate mori:

Non frustra vixit qui quali nos sit amore

Vivendum, exemplo præcipiensque docet:

Nec merces te indigna manet: juvenesque senesque

Gaudebunt nomen concelebrare tuum;

Condiet appositum dum fercula nostra salinum,

Præbebitque suas mensa secunda nuces;

Dum stantis rhedæ aurigam tua pagina fallet,

Contentum in sella tædia longa pati!

Quid, quod et ipsa sibi devinctum Scotia nutrix

Te perget gremio grata fovere senem;

Officiumque pium simili pietate rependens,

Sæcula nulla sinet non[11] meminisse Tui.

The TRANSLATION is from the pen of DEAN STANLEY:--

Hail, Twentieth Edition! From Orkney to Tweed,

Let the wits of all Scotland come running to read.

Not in vain hath he lived, who by innocent mirth

Hath lightened the frowns and the furrows of earth:

Not in vain hath he _lived_, who will never let _die_

The humours of good times for ever gone by:

Not in vain hath he _lived_, who hath laboured to give

In himself the best proof how by love we may _live_.

Rejoice, our dear Dean, thy reward to behold

In united rejoicing of young and of old;

Remembered, so long as our boards shall not lack

A bright grain of salt or a hard nut to crack;

So long as the cabman aloft on his seat,

Broods deep o'er thy page as he waits in the street!

Yea, Scotland herself, with affectionate care,

Shall nurse an old age so beloved and so rare;

And still gratefully seek in her heart to enshrine

One more _Reminiscence_, and that shall be Thine.

From the DEAN of WESTMINSTER.

The Deanery, Westminster,

February 3, 1872.

My dear elder (I cannot say eldest so long as the Dean of

Winchester lives) Brother--I am very glad that you are

pleased with my attempt to render into English the Bishop's

beautiful Latinity....

Accept our best wishes for many happy returns of the day just

past.--Yours sincerely,

A.P. STANLEY.

On the publication of the Twentieth Edition of the _Reminiscences_,

Professor Blackie addressed to the Dean the following sonnets:--

I.

Hail! wreathed in smiles, thou genial book! and hail

Who wove thy web of bright and various hue,

The wise old man, who gleaned the social tale

And thoughtful jest and roguish whim, that grew

Freely on Scotland's soil when Scotland knew

To be herself, nor lusted to assume

Smooth English ways--that they might live and bloom

With freshness, ever old and ever new

In human hearts. Thrice happy he who knows

With sportive light the cloudy thought to clear,

And round his head the playful halo throws

That plucks the terror from the front severe:

Such grace was thine, and such thy gracious part,

Thou wise old Scottish man of large and loving heart.

II.

The twentieth edition! I have looked

Long for my second--but it not appears;

Yet not the less I joy that thou hast brooked

Rich fruit of fair fame, and of mellow years,

Thou wise old man, within whose saintly veins

No drop of gall infects life's genial tide,

Whose many-chambered human heart contains

No room for hatred and no home for pride.

Happy who give with stretch of equal love

This hand to Heaven and that to lowly earth,

Wise there to worship with great souls above

As here to sport with children in their mirth;

Who own one God with kindly-reverent eyes

In flowers that prink the earth, and stars that gem the skies.

JOHN STUART BLACKIE.

CHARLES DICKENS to DEAN RAMSAY.

Gad's Hill Place, Higham, by Rochester, Kent,

Tuesday, 29th May 1866.

My dear Sir--I am but now in the receipt of your kind letter,

and its accompanying book. If I had returned home sooner, I

should sooner have thanked you for both.

I cannot adequately express to you the gratification I have

derived from your assurance that I have given you pleasure.

In describing yourself as a stranger of whom I know nothing,

you do me wrong however. The book I am now proud to possess

as a mark of your goodwill and remembrance has for some time

been too well known to me to admit of the possibility of my

regarding its writer in any other light than as a friend in

the spirit; while the writer of the introductory page marked

viii. in the edition of last year[12] had commanded my

highest respect as a public benefactor and a brave soul.

I thank you, my dear Sir, most cordially, and I shall always

prize the words you have inscribed in this delightful volume,

very, very highly.--Yours faithfully and obliged,

CHARLES DICKENS.

Dr. GUTHRIE to DEAN RAMSAY.

1 Salisbury Road,

30th October 1872.

My dear Mr. Dean--My honoured and beloved friend, I have

received many sweet, tender, and Christian letters touching

my late serious illness, but among them all none I value

more, or almost so much, as your own.

May the Lord bless you for the solace and happiness it gave

to me and mine! How perfect the harmony in our views as to

the petty distinctions around which--sad and shame to think

of it--such fierce controversies have raged! I thank God that

I, like yourself, have never attached much importance to

these externals, and have had the fortune to be regarded as

rather loose on such matters. We have just, by God's grace,

anticipated the views and aspects they present on a deathbed.

I must tell you how you helped us to pass many a weary,

restless hour. After the Bible had been read to me in a low

monotone--when I was seeking sleep and could not find it--a

volume of my published sermons was tried, and sometimes very

successfully, as a soporific. I was familiar with them, and

yet they presented as much novelty as to divert my mind from

my troubles. And what if this failed? then came the

_Reminiscences_ to entertain me, and while away the long

hours when all hope of getting sleep's sweet oblivion

was given up!

So your book was one of my many mercies. But oh, how great in

such a time the unspeakable mercy of a full, free, present

salvation! In Wesley's words

"I the chief of sinners am,

But Jesus died for me."

I have had a bit of a back-throw, but if you could come

between three and four on Friday, I would rejoice to see

you.--Ever yours, with the greatest esteem,

THOMAS GUTHRIE.

Miss STIRLING GRAHAM to DEAN RAMSAY.

Duntrune, 8th January 1872.

My dear Mr. Dean--I thank you very much for the gift of your

new edition of "Scottish Reminiscences," and most especially

for the last few pages on Christian union and liberality,

which I have read with delight.

I beg also to thank you for the flattering and acceptable

_testimonial_ you have bestowed on myself.--Your most

respectful and grateful friend,

CLEMENTINA STIRLING GRAHAM.

Rev. Dr. HANNA to DEAN RAMSAY.

16 Magdala Crescent, 11th January 1872.

Dear Dean Ramsay--I have been touched exceedingly by your

kindness in sending me a copy of the twentieth edition of the

_Reminiscences_.

It was a happy thought of Mr. Douglas to present it to the

public in such a handsome form--the one in which it will take

its place in every good library in the country.

I am especially delighted with the last twenty pages of this

edition. Very few had such a right to speak about the strange

commotion created by the act of the two English Bishops, and

the manner in which they tried to lay the storm, and still

fewer could have done it with such effect.

One fruit of your work is sure to abide. As long as Scotland

lasts, _your_ name will "be associated with gentle and happy

_Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character_."

Mrs. Hanna joins me in affectionate regard.--With highest

respect and esteem, I ever am, yours very truly,

WM. HANNA.

DEAN RAMSAY to Rev. Dr. L. ALEXANDER.

23 Ainslie Place, Edinburgh.

January 29, 1872.

My clear Dr. Alexander--Since I had the pleasure of your most

agreeable visit, and its accompanying conversation, I have

been very unwell and hardly left the house. You mentioned the

reference made by Dean Stanley (?) to the story of the

semi-idiot boy and his receiving the communion with such

heart-felt reality. I forgot to mention that, summer before

last, two American gentlemen were announced, who talked very

pleasantly before I found who they were--one a Baptist

minister at Boston, and the other a professor in a college. I

did not know why they had called at all until the minister

_let on_ that he did not like to be in Edinburgh without

waiting upon the author of _Reminiscences_, as the book had

much interested him in Scottish life, language and character,

before he had been a visitor on the Scottish shores. "But

chiefly," he added, "I wished to tell you that the day before

I sailed I preached in a large store to above two thousand

people; that from your book I had to them brought forward the

anecdote of the simpleton lad's deep feeling in seeing the

'_pretty man_' in the communion, and of his being found dead

next morning." To which he added, in strong American tones,

"I pledge _myself_ to you, sir, there was not a dry eye in

the whole assembly."

It is a feature of modern times how anecdotes, sayings,

expressions, etc., pass amongst the human race. I have

received from Sir Thomas Biddulph an expression of the

Queen's pleasure at finding pure _Scottish_ anecdotes have

been so popular in England. How fond she is of

Scotland!--With much esteem, I am very truly yours,

E.B. RAMSAY.

The Dean was an enthusiastic admirer of Dr. Chalmers, and on the evening

of March 4, 1849, he read a memoir of the life and labours of Chalmers

at a meeting of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. That memoir, although it

had been to a great extent anticipated by Rev. Dr. Hanna's fine and

copious memoir of his father-in-law, was printed in the Society

Transactions, and afterwards went through several editions when issued

in a separate volume.

LORD MEDWTN to DEAN RAMSAY.

Ainslie Place, Thursday morning

My dear Mr. Ramsay--I beg to thank you most truly for your

very acceptable gift so kindly sent to me yesterday evening.

I had heard with the greatest satisfaction of the admirable

sketch you had read to the Royal Society of the public

character of the latest of our Scottish worthies--a very

remarkable man in many respects; one whose name must ever

stand in the foremost rank of Christian philanthropists; all

whose great and various talents and acquirements being

devoted with untiring energy to the one great object--the

temporal and eternal benefit of mankind. What I also greatly

admired about him was that all the great adulation he met

with never affected his simple-mindedness; his humility was

remarkable. There was the same absence of conceit or

assumption of any kind which also greatly distinguished his

great cotemporary, our friend Walter Scott; in truth, both

were too far elevated above other men to seek any

adventitious distinction. I wish our country could show more

men like Chalmers to hold up to imitation, or if too exalted

to be imitated, yet still to be proud of; and that they were

fortunate enough to have admirers such as you, capable of

recording their worth in an _éloge_, such as the public has

the satisfaction of receiving at your hands. Again I beg to

thank you for your kind remembrance of me on the present

occasion.--Believe me, my dear Sir, yours very truly,

J.H. FORBES.

Dr. CANDLISH to DEAN RAMSAY.

4 S. Charlotte Street, Tuesday, 6th March.

My dear Sir--I cannot deny myself the pleasure of expressing

to you the deep interest and delight with which I listened to

your discourse last night, so worthy, in every view, of the

subject, the occasion, and the audience. And while I thank

you most sincerely for so cordial and genial a tribute to the

memory of the greatest of modern Scotsmen, I venture to

express my hope that we may be favoured with an earlier and

wider publication of it than the Transactions of the Royal

Society will afford.--Pray excuse this intrusion, and believe

me, yours very truly,

ROB. S. CANDLISH.

Dean Ramsay.

I will indulge myself only with one phrase from the Dean's

memoir of Dr. Chalmers:--"Chalmers's greatest delight was to

contrive plans and schemes for raising degraded human nature

in the scale of moral living. The favourite object of his

contemplation was human nature attaining the highest

perfection of which it is capable, and especially as that

perfection was manifested in saintly individuals, in

characters of great acquirements, adorned with the graces of

Christian piety. His greatest sorrow was to contemplate

masses of mankind hopelessly bound to vice and misery by

chains of passion, ignorance, and prejudice. As no one more

firmly believed in the power of Christianity to regenerate a

fallen race, as faith and experience both conspired to assure

him that the only effectual deliverance for the sinful and

degraded was to be wrought by Christian education, and by the

active agency of Christian instruction penetrating into the

haunts of vice and the abodes of misery, these acquisitions

he strove to secure for all his beloved countrymen; for these

he laboured, and for these he was willing to spend and to

be spent."

That high yet just character not only shows Dean Ramsay's

appreciation of Chalmers, but seems to show that he had

already set him up as the model which he himself was to

follow. At any rate, he attempted to stir up the public mind

to give some worthy testimonial to the greatest of modern

Scotsmen. A few letters connected with this subject I have

put together. I did not think it necessary to collect more,

since the object has been attained under difficulties of time

and distance which might have quelled a less enthusiastic

admirer. It is pleasant to notice the general consent with

which we agree that no one else was so fitted to recommend

the Chalmers memorial as Dean Ramsay.

It was to do honour to my own little book that I ventured,

without asking leave, to print the few lines which follow,

from the great French writer, the high minister of State, the

patron of historical letters for half-a-century in France,

the Protestant Guizot.

M. GUIZOT to the DEAN.

Paris, ce 7 Février 1870,

10 Rue Billault.

Sir--Je m'associerai avec un vrai et sérieux plaisir à

l'érection d'une statue en l'honneur du Dr. Chalmers. Il n'y

a point de théologien ni de moraliste Chrétien à qui je porte

une plus haute estime. Sur quelques unes des grandes

questions qu' il a traitées, je ne partage pas ses opinions;

mais j'honore et j'admire l'élévation, la vigueur de sa

pensé, et la beauté morale de son génie. Je vous prie,

Monsieur, de me compter parmi les hommes qui se féliciteront

de pouvoir lui rendre un solennel hommage, et je vous

remercie d'avoir pensé à moi dans ce dessein.

Reçevez l'assurance de mes sentiments les plus distingués.

GUIZOT.

Mr. E.B. Ramsay, Dean, etc., 23 Ainslie Place, Edinburgh,

North Britain.

Some of Mr. Gladstone's letters, already printed, show that they were

not the beginning of the correspondence between him and the Dean. The

accident which made them acquainted will be mentioned afterwards

(p. lxxxi.)

Right Hon. W.E. GLADSTONE to DEAN RAMSAY.

Hawarden Castle, Chester,

Jan. 3, 1870.

My dear Dean Ramsay--I send you my rather shabby contribution

of £10 to the Chalmers' Memorial. I wish it were more, but I

am rather specially pressed at this time; and I think I

refused Robert Bruce altogether not long ago.