EDINBURGH--YOUTHFUL STUDIES AND AMUSEMENTS--POLITICS--THE THEATRES OF
THE TIME.
[My mother's next visit was to the house of her uncle, William
Charters, in Edinburgh. From thence she was enabled to partake of
the advantages of a dancing-school of the period.]
* * * * *
They sent me to Strange's dancing school. Strange himself was exactly
like a figure on the stage; tall and thin, he wore a powdered wig, with
cannons at the ears, and a pigtail. Ruffles at the breast and wrists,
white waistcoat, black silk or velvet shorts, white silk stockings,
large silver buckles, and a pale blue coat completed his costume. He had
a little fiddle on which he played, called a kit. My first lesson was
how to walk and make a curtsey. "Young lady, if you visit the queen you
must make three curtsies, lower and lower and lower as you approach her.
So--o--o," leading me on and making me curtsey. "Now, if the queen were
to ask you to eat a bit of mutton with her, what would you say?" Every
Saturday afternoon all the scholars, both boys and girls, met to
practise in the public assembly rooms in George's Street. It was a
handsome large hall with benches rising like an amphitheatre. Some of
the elder girls were very pretty, and danced well, so these practisings
became a lounge for officers from the Castle, and other young men. We
used always to go in full evening dress. We learnt the _minuet de la
cour_, reels and country dances. Our partners used to give us
gingerbread and oranges. Dancing before so many people was quite an
exhibition, and I was greatly mortified one day when ready to begin a
minuet, by the dancing-master shaking me roughly and making me hold out
my frock properly.
Though kind in the main, my uncle and his wife were rather sarcastic and
severe, and kept me down a good deal, which I felt keenly, but said
nothing. I was not a favourite with my family at that period of my life,
because I was reserved and unexpansive, in consequence of the silence I
was obliged to observe on the subjects which interested me. Three Miss
Melvilles, friends, or perhaps relatives, of Mrs. Charters, were always
held up to me as models of perfection, to be imitated in everything, and
I wearied of hearing them constantly praised at my expense.
In a small society like that of Edinburgh there was a good deal of
scandal and gossip; every one's character and conduct were freely
criticised, and by none more than by my aunt and her friends. She used
to sit at a window embroidering, where she not only could see every one
that passed, but with a small telescope could look into the
dressing-room of a lady of her acquaintance, and watch all she did. A
spinster lady of good family, a cousin of ours, carried her gossip so
far, that she was tried for defamation, and condemned to a month's
imprisonment, which she actually underwent in the Tolbooth. She was let
out just before the king's birthday, to celebrate which, besides the
guns fired at the Castle, the boys let off squibs and crackers in all
the streets. As the lady in question was walking up the High Street,
some lads in a wynd, or narrow street, fired a small cannon, and one of
the slugs with which it was loaded hit her mouth and wounded her tongue.
This raised a universal laugh; and no one enjoyed it more than my uncle
William, who disliked this somewhat masculine woman.
Whilst at my uncle's house, I attended a school for writing and
arithmetic, and made considerable progress in the latter, for I liked
it, but I soon forgot it from want of practice.
My uncle and aunt generally paid a visit to the Lyells of Kinnordy, the
father and mother of my friend Sir Charles Lyell, the celebrated
geologist; but this time they accepted an invitation from Captain
Wedderburn, and took me with them. Captain Wedderburn was an old
bachelor, who had left the army and devoted himself to agriculture.
Mounted on a very tall but quiet horse, I accompanied my host every
morning when he went over his farm, which was chiefly a grass farm. The
house was infested with rats, and a masculine old maid, who was of the
party, lived in such terror of them, that she had a light in her
bedroom, and after she was in bed, made her maid tuck in the white
dimity curtains all round. One night we were awakened by violent
screams, and on going to see what was the matter, we found Miss Cowe in
the middle of the room, bare-footed, in her night-dress, screaming at
the top of her voice. Instead of tucking the rats out of the bed, the
maid had tucked one in, and Miss Cowe on waking beheld it sitting on her
pillow.
* * * * *
There was great political agitation at this time. The corruption and
tyranny of the court, nobility, and clergy in France were so great, that
when the revolution broke out, a large portion of our population thought
the French people were perfectly justified in revolting, and warmly
espoused their cause. Later many changed their opinions, shocked, as
every one was, at the death of the king and queen, and the atrocious
massacres which took place in France. Yet some not only approved of the
revolution abroad, but were so disgusted with our mal-administration at
home, to which they attributed our failure in the war in Holland and
elsewhere, that great dissatisfaction and alarm prevailed throughout the
country. The violence, on the other hand, of the opposite party was not
to be described,--the very name of Liberal was detested.
Great dissensions were caused by difference of opinion in families; and
I heard people previously much esteemed accused from this cause of all
that was evil. My uncle William and my father were as violent Tories as
any.
The Liberals were distinguished by wearing their hair short, and when
one day I happened to say how becoming a crop was, and that I wished the
men would cut off those ugly pigtails, my father exclaimed, "By G--,
when a man cuts off his queue, the head should go with it."
The unjust and exaggerated abuse of the Liberal party made me a Liberal.
From my earliest years my mind revolted against oppression and tyranny,
and I resented the injustice of the world in denying all those
privileges of education to my sex which were so lavishly bestowed on
men. My liberal opinions, both in religion and politics, have remained
unchanged (or, rather, have advanced) throughout my life, but I have
never been a republican. I have always considered a highly-educated
aristocracy essential, not only for government, but for the refinement
of a people.
[After her winter in Edinburgh, my mother returned to Burntisland.
Strange to say, she found there, in an illustrated Magazine of
Fashions, the introduction to the great study of her life.]
* * * * *
I was often invited with my mother to the tea-parties given either by
widows or maiden ladies who resided at Burntisland. A pool of commerce
used to be keenly contested till a late hour at these parties, which
bored me exceedingly, but I there became acquainted with a Miss Ogilvie,
much younger than the rest, who asked me to go and see fancy works she
was doing, and at which she was very clever. I went next day, and after
admiring her work, and being told how it was done, she showed me a
monthly magazine with coloured plates of ladies' dresses, charades, and
puzzles. At the end of a page I read what appeared to me to be simply an
arithmetical question; but on turning the page I was surprised to see
strange looking lines mixed with letters, chiefly X'es and Y's, and
asked; "What is that?" "Oh," said Miss Ogilvie, "it is a kind of
arithmetic: they call it Algebra; but I can tell you nothing about it."
And we talked about other things; but on going home I thought I would
look if any of our books could tell me what was meant by Algebra.
In Robertson's "Navigation" I flattered myself that I had got precisely
what I wanted; but I soon found that I was mistaken. I perceived,
however, that astronomy did not consist in star-gazing,[3] and as I
persevered in studying the book for a time, I certainly got a dim view
of several subjects which were useful to me afterwards. Unfortunately
not one of our acquaintances or relations knew anything of science or
natural history; nor, had they done so, should I have had courage to ask
any of them a question, for I should have been laughed at. I was often
very sad and forlorn; not a hand held out to help me.
My uncle and aunt Charters took a house at Burntisland for the summer,
and the Miss Melville I have already mentioned came to pay them a visit.
She painted miniatures, and from seeing her at work, I took a fancy to
learn to draw, and actually wasted time in copying prints; but this
circumstance enabled me to get elementary books on Algebra and Geometry
without asking questions of any one, as will be explained afterwards.
The rest of the summer I spent in playing on the piano and learning
Greek enough to read Xenophon and part of Herodotus; then we prepared to
go to Edinburgh.
My mother was so much afraid of the sea that she never would cross the
Firth except in a boat belonging to a certain skipper who had served in
the Navy and lost a hand; he had a hook fastened on the stump to enable
him to haul ropes. My brother and I were tired of the country, and one
sunny day we persuaded my mother to embark. When we came to the shore,
the skipper said, "I wonder that the leddy boats to-day, for though it
is calm here under the lee of the land, there is a stiff breeze
outside." We made him a sign to hold his tongue, for we knew this as
well as he did. Our mother went down to the cabin and remained silent
and quiet for a time; but when we began to roll and be tossed about, she
called out to the skipper, "George! this is an awful storm, I am sure we
are in great danger. Mind how you steer; remember, I trust in you!" He
laughed, and said, "Dinna trust in me, leddy; trust in God Almighty."
Our mother, in perfect terror, called out, "Dear me! is it come to
that?" We burst out laughing, skipper and all.
Nasmyth, an exceedingly good landscape painter, had opened an academy
for ladies in Edinburgh, a proof of the gradual improvement which was
taking place in the education of the higher classes; my mother, very
willingly allowed me to attend it. The class was very full. I was not
taught to draw, but looked on while Nasmyth painted; then a picture was
given me to copy, the master correcting the faults. Though I spoilt
canvas, I had made some progress by the end of the season.[4] Mr.
Nasmyth, besides being a good artist, was clever, well-informed, and had
a great deal of conversation. One day I happened to be near him while he
was talking to the Ladies Douglas about perspective. He said, "You
should study Euclid's Elements of Geometry; the foundation not only of
perspective, but of astronomy and all mechanical science." Here, in the
most unexpected manner, I got the information I wanted, for I at once
saw that it would help me to understand some parts of Robertson's
"Navigation;" but as to going to a bookseller and asking for Euclid the
thing was impossible! Besides I did not yet know anything definite about
Algebra, so no more could be done at that time; but I never lost sight
of an object which had interested me from the first.
I rose early, and played four or five hours, as usual, on the piano, and
had lessons from Corri, an Italian, who taught carelessly, and did not
correct a habit I had of thumping so as to break the strings; but I
learned to tune a piano and mend the strings, as there was no tuner at
Burntisland. Afterwards I got over my bad habit and played the music
then in vogue: pieces by Pleyel, Clementi, Steibelt, Mozart, and
Beethoven, the last being my favourite to this day. I was sometimes
accompanied on the violin by Mr. Thomson, the friend of Burns; more
frequently by Stabilini; but I was always too shy to play before people,
and invariably played badly when obliged to do so, which vexed me.
* * * * *
The prejudice against the theatre had been very great in Scotland, and
still existed among the rigid Calvinists. One day, when I was fourteen
or fifteen, on going into the drawing-room, an old man sitting beside my
mother rose and kissed me, saying, "I am one of your mother's oldest
friends." It was Home, the author of the tragedy of "Douglas." He was
obliged to resign his living in the kirk for the scandal of having had
his play acted in the theatre in Edinburgh, and some of his clerical
friends were publicly rebuked for going to see it. Our family was
perfectly liberal in all these matters. The first time I had ever been
in a theatre I went with my father to see "Cymbeline." I had never
neglected Shakespeare, and when our great tragedians, Mrs. Siddons and
her brother, John Kemble, came for a short time to act in Edinburgh, I
could think of nothing else. They were both remarkably handsome, and,
notwithstanding the Scotch prejudice, the theatre was crowded every
night. It was a misfortune to me that my mother never would go into
society during the absence of my father, nor, indeed, at any time,
except, perhaps, to a dinner party; but I had no difficulty in finding a
chaperone, as we knew many people. I used to go to the theatre in the
morning, and ask to see the plan of the house for the evening, that I
might know which ladies I could accompany to their boxes. Of course I
paid for my place. Our friends were so kind that I saw these great
artists, as well as Charles Kemble, Young, and Bannister, in "Hamlet,"
"Macbeth," "Othello," "Coriolanus," "The Gamester," &c.
It was greatly to the honour of the British stage that all the principal
actors, men and women, were of excellent moral character, and much
esteemed. Many years afterwards, when Mrs. Siddons was an old woman, I
drank tea with her, and heard her read Milton and Shakespeare. Her
daughter told us to applaud, for she had been so much accustomed to it
in the theatre that she could not read with spirit without this
expression of approbation.
My mother was pleased with my music and painting, and, although she did
not go to the theatre herself, she encouraged me to go. She was quite of
the old school with regard to the duties of women, and very particular
about her table; and, although we were obliged to live with rigid
economy, our food was of the best quality, well dressed, and neatly
served, for she could tell the cook exactly what was amiss when anything
was badly cooked. She thought besides that some of the comfort of
married life depended upon the table, so I was sent to a pastrycook for
a short time every day, to learn the art of cookery. I had for
companions Miss Moncreiff, daughter of Sir Henry Moncreiff Wellwood, a
Scotch baronet of old family. She was older than I, pretty, pleasing,
and one of the belles of the day. We were amused at the time, and
afterwards made jellies and creams for little supper parties, then in
fashion, though, as far as economy went, we might as well have bought
them.
On returning to Burntisland, I played on the piano as diligently as
ever, and painted several hours every day. At this time, however, a Mr.
Craw came to live with us as tutor to my youngest brother, Henry. He had
been educated for the kirk, was a fair Greek and Latin scholar, but,
unfortunately for me, was no mathematician. He was a simple,
good-natured kind of man, and I ventured to ask him about algebra and
geometry, and begged him, the first time he went to Edinburgh, to buy me
something elementary on these subjects, so he soon brought me "Euclid"
and Bonnycastle's "Algebra," which were the books used in the schools at
that time. Now I had got what I so long and earnestly desired. I asked
Mr. Craw to hear me demonstrate a few problems in the first book of
"Euclid," and then I continued the study alone with courage and
assiduity, knowing I was on the right road. Before I began to read
algebra I found it necessary to study arithmetic again, having forgotten
much of it. I never was expert at addition, for, in summing up a long
column of pounds, shillings, and pence, in the family account book, it
seldom came out twice the same way. In after life I, of course, used
logarithms for the higher branches of science.
I had to take part in the household affairs, and to make and mend my
own clothes. I rose early, played on the piano, and painted during the
time I could spare in the daylight hours, but I sat up very late reading
Euclid. The servants, however, told my mother "It was no wonder the
stock of candles was soon exhausted, for Miss Mary sat up reading till a
very late hour;" whereupon an order was given to take away my candle as
soon as I was in bed. I had, however, already gone through the first six
books of Euclid, and now I was thrown on my memory, which I exercised by
beginning at the first book, and demonstrating in my mind a certain
number of problems every night, till I could nearly go through the
whole. My father came home for a short time, and, somehow or other,
finding out what I was about, said to my mother, "Peg, we must put a
stop to this, or we shall have Mary in a strait jacket one of these
days. There was X., who went raving mad about the longitude!"
* * * * *
In our younger days my brother Sam and I kept various festivals: we
burnt nuts, ducked for apples, and observed many other of the ceremonies
of Halloween, so well described by Burns, and we always sat up to hail
the new year on New Year's Eve. When in Edinburgh we sometimes disguised
ourselves as "guisarts," and went about with a basket full of Christmas
cakes called buns and shortbread, and a flagon of "het-pint" or posset,
to wish our friends a "Happy New Year." At Christmas time a set of men,
called the Christmas Wakes, walked slowly through the streets during the
midnight hours, playing our sweet Scotch airs on flageolets. I remember
the sound from a distance fell gently on my sleeping ear, swelled
softly, and died away in distance again, a passing breeze of sweet
sound. It was very pleasing; some thought it too sad.
My grandfather was intimate with the Boswells of Balmuto, a bleak place
a few miles to the north of Burntisland. Lord Balmuto, a Scotch judge,
who was then proprietor, had been a dancing companion of my mother's,
and had a son and two daughters, the eldest a nice girl of my age, with
whom I was intimate, so I gladly accepted an invitation to visit them at
Balmuto. Lord Balmuto was a large coarse-looking man, with black hair
and beetling eyebrows. Though not vulgar, he was passionate, and had a
boisterous manner. My mother and her sisters gave him the nickname of
the "black bull of Norr'away," in allusion to the northern position of
Balmuto. Mrs. Boswell was gentle and ladylike. The son had a turn for
chemistry, and his father took me to see what they called the
Laboratory. What a laboratory might be I knew not, as I had never heard
the word before, but somehow I did not like the look of the
curiously-shaped glass things and other apparatus, so when the son put a
substance on the table, and took a hammer, his father saying, "Now you
will hear a fine report," I ran out of the room, saying, "I don't like
reports." Sure enough there was a very loud report, followed by a
violent crash, and on going into the room again, we found that the son
had been knocked down, the father was trembling from head to foot, and
the apparatus had been smashed to pieces. They had had a narrow escape.
Miss Boswell led a dull life, often passing the winter with her mother
in that solitary place, Balmuto; and when in Edinburgh, she was much
kept down by her father, and associated little with people of her own
age and station. The consequence was that she eloped with her
drawing-master, to the inexpressible rage and mortification of her
father, who had all the Scotch pride of family and pure blood.
This year we remained longer in the country than usual, and I went to
spend Christmas with the Oswalds of Dunnikeir. The family consisted of a
son, a colonel in the army, and three daughters, the youngest about my
age, a bold horsewoman. She had talent, became a good Greek and Latin
scholar, and was afterwards married to the Earl of Elgin. More than
seventy years after this I had a visit from the Dean of Westminster and
Lady Augusta Stanley, her daughter; a very charming person, who told me
about her family, of which I had heard nothing for years. I was very
happy to see the Dean, one of the most liberal and distinguished members
of the Church of England, and son of my old friend the late Bishop of
Norwich.
* * * * *
When I returned to Edinburgh Mr. Nasmyth was much pleased with the
progress I had made in painting, for, besides having copied several
landscapes he had lent me, I had taken the outline of a print and
coloured it from a storm I saw at the end of our garden. This picture I
still possess.
Dr. Blair, minister of the High Kirk of Edinburgh, the well-known author
and professor of Rhetoric and Belles Lettres in the University, an
intimate friend of my grandfather's, had heard of my turn for painting,
and asked my mother to let him see some of my pictures. A few of the
best were sent to him, and were returned after a few days accompanied by
a long letter from the old gentleman, pointing out what he admired most
in each picture. I was delighted with the letter, and not a little vain
of the praise.
LETTER FROM DR. BLAIR TO MARY FAIRFAX.
MY DEAR MISS FAIRFAX,
This comes to return you a thousand thanks for the pleasure and
entertainment I have had from your landscape paintings. I had them
placed in the best light I could contrive in my drawing-room, and
entertained myself a good while every day looking at them and
admiring their beauties, which always grew upon me. I intend to
return them to you to-morrow, or rather on the beginning of next
week; and as they were taken particular care of, I hope they shall
not appear to have suffered any injury.
I have exhibited them to several people, some of whom were excellent
judges, whom I brought on purpose to view them--Lady Miller, the
Solicitor and Mrs. Blair, his lady, Dr. Hill, Miss Anne Ker of
Nisbet, and a variety of ladies. All joined in praising them highly.
The penserosa figure caught the highest admiration of any, from the
gracefulness of the figure and attitude, and the boldness and
propriety of the scenery. The two morning and evening views--one of
Lochness, and the other of Elcho Castle--which make fine companions,
and which I always placed together, were also highly admired. Each
of them had their different partizans, and I myself was for a good
while undetermined which of them to prefer. At last, I found the
placidity of the scene in Elcho Castle, with the cottages among the
trees, dwelt most on my imagination, though the gaiety and
brightness of the morning sky in the other has also exquisite
beauty. On the whole, I am persuaded that your taste and powers of
execution in that art are uncommonly great, and that if you go on
you must excel highly, and may go what length you please. Landscape
painting has been always a great favourite with me; and you have
really contributed much to my entertainment. As I thought you might
wish to know my sentiments, after your paintings had been a little
considered, I was led to write you these lines (in which I assure
you there is nothing flattering), before sending back your pieces to
you. With best compliments to Lady Fairfax, believe me,
Your obliged and most obedient Servant,
HUGH BLAIR.
ARGYLL SQUARE, _11th April_ (probably) 1796.
A day or two after this a Mrs. Ramsay, a rich proud widow, a relation of
my mother's, came with her daughter, who was an heiress, to pay us a
morning visit. Looking round the room she asked who had painted the
pictures hung up on the walls. My mother, who was rather proud of them,
said they were painted by me. "I am glad," said Mrs. Ramsay, "that Miss
Fairfax has any kind of talent that may enable her to win her bread, for
everyone knows she will not have a sixpence." It was a very severe hit,
because it was true. Had it been my lot to win my bread by painting, I
fear I should have fared badly, but I never should have been ashamed of
it; on the contrary, I should have been very proud had I been
successful. I must say the idea of making money had never entered my
head in any of my pursuits, but I was intensely ambitious to excel in
something, for I felt in my own breast that women were capable of taking
a higher place in creation than that assigned to them in my early days,
which was very low.
Not long after Mrs. Ramsay's visit to my mother, Miss Ramsay went to
visit the Dons, at Newton Don, a pretty place near Kelso. Miss Ramsay
and the three Miss Dons were returning from a long walk; they had
reached the park of Newton Don, when they heard the dinner bell ring,
and fearing to be too late for dinner, instead of going round, they
attempted to cross a brook which runs through the park. One of the Miss
Dons stumbled on the stepping-stones and fell into the water. Her two
sisters and Miss Ramsay, trying to save her, fell in one after another.
The three Miss Dons were drowned, but Miss Ramsay, who wore a stiff
worsted petticoat, was buoyed up by it and carried down stream, where
she caught by the branch of a tree and was saved. She never recovered
the shock of the dreadful scene.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 3: Many people evidently think the science of astronomy
consists entirely in observing the stars, for I have been frequently
asked if I passed my nights looking through a telescope, and I have
astonished the enquirers by saying I did not even possess one.]
[Footnote 4: Nasmyth told a lady still alive who took lessons from him
in her youth, that the cleverest young lady he ever taught was Miss Mary
Fairfax.]