STIRLING, THE LAKES, AND GLASGOW.
GLASGOW, _September 1, 1902_.
From Stirling Castle we revelled in the view which many consider the
finest in Scotland, embracing, as it does, both Lowland and Highland
scenery. We drove to the towering, but rather top-heavy Wallace
Monument, on Abbey Crag, and climbed its winding stone stairway, for
the sake of another look at that smiling landscape, and a nearer view
of the scene of Wallace's victory over Surrey at Stirling Bridge, in
1297. In one of the rooms of this great monument we gazed reverently
on the hero's sword with a thrill of our boyhood enthusiasm over
_Scottish Chiefs_, remembering that "the sword which looked heavy for
an archangel to wield was light in his terrible hand." The statue of
Wallace in front of the building looked like an old friend, because of
our familiarity with the replica of it in Druid Hill Park, presented
to the city of Baltimore by Mr. William Wallace Spence. Of course, we
drove, too, to "Cambuskenneth's fane," and the field of Bannockburn,
where the "bore stone" may still be seen.
[Sidenote: Memorials of the Martyrs.]
But the place that interested us most at Stirling was the Old
Greyfriars Churchyard, adjoining the Castle, with its monuments of
John Knox, Alexander Henderson, Andrew Melville, and especially James
Renwick and Margaret Wilson. During our stay in Edinburgh we had read
and talked much of the martyrs of Scotland, those glorious men and
women who had died for Christ's crown and covenant in "the killing
time,"--those heroic ministers, nobles, and peasants, male and
female, who to the number of eighteen thousand had laid down their
lives rather than submit to the tyranny and popery of the Stuarts. We
had visited repeatedly Greyfriars Churchyard at Edinburgh, where the
Covenant was signed, and where many of the martyrs who were beheaded
in the adjoining Grassmarket are buried. The last of those who "kissed
the Red Maiden" here was the youthful and gifted James Renwick. His
statue at Stirling represents a mere stripling indeed. Not far from
Renwick's statue stands the most beautiful of all the monuments of the
Covenanters, the snow white group of Margaret and Agnes Wilson, and the
figure of an angel standing by them. The inscription is as follows:
MARGARET,
Virgin Martyr of the ocean wave, with her
likeminded sister,
AGNES.
Love many waters cannot quench.
God saves His chaste impearled one in Covenant true.
O Scotia's daughters! earnest scan the page,
And prize this flower of grace--blood-bought for you.
PSALM ix: 19.
Through faith Margaret Wilson, a youthful maiden, chose rather
to depart and be with Christ than to disown His holy Cause and
Covenant, to own Erastian usurpation, and conform to prelacy
enforced by cruel laws. Bound to a stake within flood mark of the
Solway tide, she died a martyr's death on 11th May, 1685.
[Illustration: MONUMENT TO MARGARET WILSON, STIRLING.]
I had had the satisfaction, on my former visit to Scotland, of seeing
many of the places around which the heroism of the Covenanters has
thrown imperishable renown, Bothwell Bridge, Drumclog, Ayrsmoss,
Wigtown (where a noble monument to Margaret Wilson and Margaret
McLachlan crowns the highest hill and overlooks the sad sands of
Wigtown, which all readers of _The Men of the Moss Hags_ will
remember), also the little Duchrae (where, by the way, Mr. S. R.
Crockett was born), and Earlstoun Castle on Ken Water, and Sanquhar.
At Dumfries one morning, I had eaten my breakfast in the room where
Charles Edward, the Pretender, the last of the Stuarts to curse and
trouble the united kingdom, had dined with his staff, the night before
his final withdrawal northward; and at Sanquhar, in the afternoon of
the same day, I had eaten my dinner close to the granite shaft which
marks the spot where Richard Cameron and the other twenty heroes
sat their horses on that memorable day, when they unfurled the blue
silken banner, with its inscription in letters of gold "For Christ's
Crown and Covenant," and flashed their swords in the sunlit air,
and declared themselves independent of the tyrannical and perjured
house of Stuart--one of the sublimest actions in the history of human
freedom--and the twenty men won, though they themselves perished in the
conflict. As I thought of it all, and how much it meant for the civil
and religious liberty of our own country, I had taken off my hat, and,
standing there in the street, had silently thanked God for the gift
to Scotland and the world of such men as Richard Cameron and William
Gordon and James Renwick.
I had a very pleasant note the other day from Mr. S. R. Crockett, the
novelist, in which he was kind enough to say, "If you are in Galloway,
I shall be glad indeed to see you," and in which he expressed a lively
interest in the work of the "Covenanters" in our church. In speaking of
_The Men of the Moss Hags_, he says, "I put a great deal of faithful
work into it, but that very quality somewhat marred the dramatic
element. I think of trying again with a book on _Peden_--a red-hot one
this time--not trying to hold the balance, but going straight for all
persecutors and sitters-at-ease in the Covenant Zion."
[Sidenote: The Lake Scenery of Scotland.]
Those who go to The Trossachs by way of Callander, as most tourists
do, and as I did on my former visit, miss the finest scenery of this
region. Readers of _The Lady of the Lake_ naturally wish to go by
Coilantogle Ford, Clan-Alpine's out-most bound, but by doing so they
miss not only the finest mountain views of the district, but also the
scenes of _Rob Roy_, on the upper waters of the Forth. So this time
we went by rail from Stirling to Aberfoyle, spent the night at the
delightful Bailie Nicol Jarvie Hotel, antipodal in every respect to the
wretched inn of the clachan described by Sir Walter, and took the coach
over the mountains next morning for the Trossachs and Loch Katrine.
The beauty of the mountains, seen in this way, with their rocks and
ferns and heather all around us, and the glittering lakes far below
us, was a revelation even to one who had been through the district on
the other route. At the Loch Katrine pier we took the little steamer
_Sir Walter Scott_, and passing Ellen's Isle, were soon favored with
another memorable view. Surely Ben Venue was never lovelier than it
was that day, with the sunlight and shadow alternating on its rugged
sides. The Stronachlachar Hotel, at the foot of the lake, is another
excellent place of entertainment. We could not tear ourselves away at
once, so after luncheon we rowed on the lake, and climbed on the rocks,
and gathered the heather till late in the afternoon. Then we took coach
for Inversnaid. We thought we had seen it rain in Scotland. We had not.
Those downpours which had so often drenched us in and around Edinburgh
were mere showers compared to the floods which fell upon us on that
drive to Inversnaid. The best opportunity I ever had to observe, in
perfect comfort, the effect of a heavy rain on Highland scenery was on
a steamboat ride up Loch Tay some years ago. From the windows of the
saloon we could see everything on both sides. All the trickling burns,
swollen by the rain, had become full and foaming streams, and, dashing
down the mossy mountains, gave them the appearance of immense slopes of
green velvet, striped from top to bottom with ribbons of silver. But on
this drive from Stronachlachar to Inversnaid we were too busy trying
to keep ourselves dry to take account of the effect of the rain on the
scenery. We were much more concerned about its effect upon ourselves.
But on reaching the hotel we hung up our dripping wraps, and were quite
comfortable again in a few minutes. Next morning was fine. We walked to
Rob Roy's cave in the tumbled rocks overlooking the water. We climbed
the hills above Inversnaid Falls. Some of the party rowed across the
lake to the Arrochar mountains. From every point of view we were
enchanted with the loveliness of Loch Lomond. It is the largest and
most beautiful of the Scottish lakes. We left Inversnaid reluctantly,
after a too brief stay of a day and a half, and steamed down to
Balloch. Taking the cars there for Glasgow, we soon came in sight of
the gray stone mansion of Lord Overtoun, standing high and clear to the
view on our left. The sight of it rendered the senior member of the
party reminiscent again, and he told the others of the garden party
given there to the Pan-Presbyterian Council in 1896.
About 850 people had come by rail from Glasgow to Dumbarton on a
specially chartered train, and were conveyed the two or three miles
from there to Overtoun in breaks, thirty-five in number. Over the
door of the mansion ran the chiselled words, "Let everything that
hath breath praise the Lord." The host and Lady Overtoun received the
delegates in the hall. After passing through the elegant apartments on
the first floor, they dispersed over the beautiful grounds where ices
were served at various places, and ten pipers of the celebrated Black
Watch, in their picturesque Highland costume, marched up and down the
lawn, playing their national instrument, one which, with its "tangled
squeaking," as Hawthorne calls it, has always seemed to me more
picturesque than musical. At four o'clock the guests, to the number of
nearly one thousand, all assembled in the great marquee which had been
erected on the lawn, and were seated at tables for refreshments, after
which they were welcomed by Lord Overtoun in a most cordial speech, to
which responses were made by Dr. Roberts, Dr. Blaikie, Dr. Hoge, Rev.
John McNeill and others, and at about six o'clock we all went back to
Glasgow, fully agreed that this was far and away the most elaborate and
elegant entertainment we had ever seen.
One of the raciest men I met at Glasgow, on that occasion, was the
Rev. John McNeill. I had the good fortune, with some other friends,
to travel in the same compartment with him the day we went to Lord
Overtoun's Garden Party. Noticing the river through the car window,
he began to speak of the filth of the Clyde below Glasgow, and then
naturally enough of the Chicago river, which is probably the filthiest
ditch on this planet, and quoted the remark he had made while there,
that Peter could have walked on the Chicago river without faith. This
led him to speak of exaggerations in general, one especially in which
a local Scotch orator indulged when offering the congratulations of
his community to the owner of three or four small coasting vessels
when he was about launching another one. After "disporting himself in
the empyrean," as Dr. Alexander used to say of such sky-scrapers, this
bailie wound up with the statement that "the sails of your ships whiten
the universal seas." The local minister was the next speaker, but
after such a burst of eloquence as the foregoing, his remarks were, of
course, very tame, so much so that the bailie who had covered himself
with glory turned to another bailie sitting next to him, and said,
"Bailie, mon, some o' them that have never been to college can make a
better speech than them that have been through _the hale corrycolium_!"
Another example of unconscious Scotch humor, related, I think, in
Lockhart's _Life of Scott_, was that of the pastor of the small islands
of Cumbrae, near the mouth of the Clyde, who was accustomed to pray
that the Lord would "bless Great Cumbrae and Little Cumbrae and _the
adjacent islands_ of Great Britain and Ireland." Still another was that
of the simple Highlanders on the estates of the great Presbyterian
nobleman, the Duke of Argyll, who when the Duke's son, the Marquis of
Lorne, married the daughter of Queen Victoria, said, "The Queen must be
a great woman if her daughter could marry the son of McCallum More."
[Sidenote: The City of Glasgow.]
"Let Glasgow flourish by the preaching of the word." From time
immemorial that has been the motto of this stately city, now the
second in size in Great Britain, numbering some nine hundred thousand
souls. It should, therefore, be no surprise that there are _two
hundred and seventy-five_ Presbyterian churches here. "Glasgow is the
largest Presbyterian city in the world, whether it be measured by the
number of churches, of communicants, or of aggressive work done in
the cause of Christ." It was in Glasgow that the first missionary
society, to send the gospel to the heathen world, was formed in
Scotland. Glasgow was also the principal scene of the great home
mission enterprise of Dr. Chalmers. Thus, as Prof. Lindsay says,
Glasgow has taken the lead in the two greatest characteristics of
modern evangelical Presbyterianism--missions to the heathen, and to the
lapsed and drifting population at home. Besides what is raised by the
churches of the city, Glasgow spends annually more than seven hundred
thousand dollars in the support of various charitable institutions.
For instance, over nine hundred orphan children are cared for in the
"homes," all the money for buildings and daily bread being sent in, in
answer to prayer. Eighty-eight services are held on Sabbath forenoons
for non-churchgoing lads and girls, superintended by two thousand
monitors and workers. The Boys' Brigade took its rise in Glasgow.
There are ten thousand young men enrolled as members of the Young
Men's Christian Association. These bare statements will give some idea
of the religious activities of this great Presbyterian city, and of
its suitableness as a rallying centre, in 1896, for the three hundred
representatives of that vast army of more than twenty million people of
God, who, in every nation under heaven, march under the blue banner,
constituting the largest Protestant Church in the world.
Glasgow is, moreover, an ancient seat of learning, and a great centre
of commerce. For five hundred years its University has shed light over
Scotland, and other countries as well. As for primary education, the
official report says, "it is a rare thing now to find a child in the
city, over ten or eleven years of age, who cannot read and write. Its
art galleries, museums, music, lectures, its magnificent municipal
buildings erected at a cost of two million six hundred thousand
dollars, its sanitary arrangements, under the influence of which the
rate of mortality is steadily decreasing, its water system, which, at a
cost of seventeen million five hundred dollars, has brought an abundant
supply of pure water from Loch Katrine through thirty-five miles of
mountainous country--all are worthy of the second city of the kingdom.
And, as everybody knows, Glasgow is the place where "the stately ocean
greyhounds" are built. Fifty-five million dollars have been expended in
"turning what was once a little salmon stream into one of the greatest
navigable highways of the world." In 1768, the Clyde, at low water, was
one foot deep, where now it is twenty-four feet. What is it that has
given this venerable Presbyterian city this proud position, next to
London? "Let Glasgow flourish by the preaching of the word."
[Sidenote: The Old Cathedral.]
It is said that the word "Glasgow" comes from "Glescu," gray mist. It
deserved its name when we arrived there on the 30th of August, 1902,
and it continued to deserve it throughout our stay. The fog was so
heavy and dense that one felt almost as if it could be sawn into slabs.
I can testify further that the city deserved its name also on the 17th
of June, 1896, when the delegates to the Sixth General Council of the
Reformed Churches Throughout the World Holding the Presbyterian System,
gathered in the Barony Church, and marched through a cold rain, across
the wide paved square, to the ancient cathedral, where the opening
sermon was to be preached. This majestic building, now more than
seven hundred years old, is thus described by Sir Walter Scott in the
nineteenth chapter of _Rob Roy_, "The pile is of a gloomy and massive,
rather than of an elegant, style of Gothic architecture; but its
peculiar character is so strongly preserved, and so well suited with
the accompaniments which surround it, that the impression of the first
view was solemn and awful in the extreme." As Andrew Fairservice said
to the hero of that stirring story, whom Scott represents as addressed
by Rob Roy from behind one of the pillars in the crypt, "It's a brave
kirk--nane o' yer whigmalieries and curliewurlies and opensteek hems
about it--a solid, weel-jointed mason-wark, that will stand as long
as the world, keep hands and gunpowder aff it." And, indeed, it looks
as if it would. On the crest of the hill, in the adjacent necropolis,
stands a splendid Doric column surmounted by a statue of John Knox.
[Sidenote: The Most Eminent Citizen of Glasgow.]
The Preëminence of Scotland in Theology, Philosophy, and Medicine has
long been recognized the world over. But it may not be known to all
of my readers that the most eminent scientist now living is also a
resident of this country, a citizen of Glasgow--Lord Kelvin.
In the Regalia Room of Edinburgh Castle, on my way to Glasgow in 1896,
I had the pleasure of meeting, for the first time, one of the most
intellectual young men that the South has produced since the war,
Professor Woodrow Wilson, of Princeton University, a former fellow
student at Davidson College of one of my fellow-travellers at that
time. He told us he was on his way to Glasgow, too, for the purpose of
representing Princeton in the celebration of Lord Kelvin's jubilee.
This veteran professor, who thus completed fifty years of service as a
teacher in the University of Glasgow, and who, by the way, like so many
other epoch-makers, is a Scotch-Irishman, has long been recognized as
one of the most eminent scientists of modern times, and the greatest
of all electricians. As Professor William Thomson, he first won renown
by the wonder which he wrought in annihilating space by enabling us
to telegraph across the Atlantic ocean, for it was he who solved the
difficulty which, in 1856, threatened to defeat all the plans of the
late Cyrus W. Field just as he seemed about to realize his gigantic
dream of uniting two continents. The signals passing through a long
submarine cable were found to "drag" so much as to make it practically
useless. Thomson discovered the law governing the retardation,
and invented the "mirror instrument," by which all the delicate
fluctuations of the varying current could be interpreted. "So sensitive
is the arrangement that on one occasion a signal was sent to America
and back through two Atlantic cables with the current from a toy
battery, made in a silver thimble with a drop of acidulated water and
a grain of zinc." By means of Thomson's magical apparatus, on August
17, 1858, this message was flashed from shore to shore, "Europe and
America are united by telegraph: Glory to God in the highest, and on
earth peace, good will toward men." For this success he was knighted.
In 1892, after many other successes, he was raised to the peerage. The
submarine telegraph is not the only invention which connects his name
with the sea. By substituting piano-forte wire for the old-fashioned
rope, he made it possible to measure quickly and accurately the depth
of water at any spot under a moving ship. When Dr. Toule was visiting
Prof. Thomson, he noticed a bundle of this piano-forte wire, and,
inquiring what it was for, was informed by Thomson that he intended
using it for "sounding purposes." "What note?" innocently inquired
Toule, to which Thomson promptly replied, "The deep C." But Lord
Kelvin's most valuable aid to navigation is the adjustable compass,
which bears his name, and which is now used on every first-class ship
in the world.
So numerous and useful are his inventions that there is an
establishment at Glasgow devoted solely to the manufacture of his
patents, and employing nearly two hundred highly skilled workmen,
and a staff of electricians. His home, in the precincts of Glasgow
University, was the first house in the world to be lighted with
electricity. It is not strange, then, that we found the whole city
doing him honor on our arrival in 1896, and scores of scholars convened
to offer the congratulations of other institutions in every part of the
world.
Yesterday we had the pleasure of hearing a very thoughtful and striking
sermon from the Rev. P. Carnegie Simpson, author of _The Fact of
Christ_, a book which in a very short time has gained a deservedly
wide circulation. I am constrained to believe that, generally
speaking, Scottish ministers have more intellectual ability and better
theological furnishing than those in America.