We dined this day at the house of Mr. Frazer of Streichton, who shewed us
in his grounds some stones yet standing of a druidical circle, and what I
began to think more worthy of notice, some forest trees of full growth.
At night we came to Bamff, where I remember nothing that particularly
claimed my attention. The ancient towns of Scotland have generally an
appearance unusual to Englishmen. The houses, whether great or small,
are for the most part built of stones. Their ends are now and then next
the streets, and the entrance into them is very often by a flight of
steps, which reaches up to the second story, the floor which is level
with the ground being entered only by stairs descending within the house.
The art of joining squares of glass with lead is little used in Scotland,
and in some places is totally forgotten. The frames of their windows are
all of wood. They are more frugal of their glass than the English, and
will often, in houses not otherwise mean, compose a square of two pieces,
not joining like cracked glass, but with one edge laid perhaps half an
inch over the other. Their windows do not move upon hinges, but are
pushed up and drawn down in grooves, yet they are seldom accommodated
with weights and pullies. He that would have his window open must hold
it with his hand, unless what may be sometimes found among good
contrivers, there be a nail which he may stick into a hole, to keep it
from falling.
What cannot be done without some uncommon trouble or particular
expedient, will not often be done at all. The incommodiousness of the
Scotch windows keeps them very closely shut. The necessity of
ventilating human habitations has not yet been found by our northern
neighbours; and even in houses well built and elegantly furnished, a
stranger may be sometimes forgiven, if he allows himself to wish for
fresher air.
These diminutive observations seem to take away something from the
dignity of writing, and therefore are never communicated but with
hesitation, and a little fear of abasement and contempt. But it must be
remembered, that life consists not of a series of illustrious actions, or
elegant enjoyments; the greater part of our time passes in compliance
with necessities, in the performance of daily duties, in the removal of
small inconveniences, in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are
well or ill at ease, as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is
ruffled by small obstacles and frequent interruption. The true state of
every nation is the state of common life. The manners of a people are
not to be found in the schools of learning, or the palaces of greatness,
where the national character is obscured or obliterated by travel or
instruction, by philosophy or vanity; nor is public happiness to be
estimated by the assemblies of the gay, or the banquets of the rich. The
great mass of nations is neither rich nor gay: they whose aggregate
constitutes the people, are found in the streets, and the villages, in
the shops and farms; and from them collectively considered, must the
measure of general prosperity be taken. As they approach to delicacy a
nation is refined, as their conveniences are multiplied, a nation, at
least a commercial nation, must be denominated wealthy.