YEAR 1791
IN the spring of this year, I took my son Gilbert into Glasgow, to place
him in a counting-house. As he had no inclination for any of the learned
professions, and not having been there from the time when I was sent to
the General Assembly, I cannot express my astonishment at the great
improvements, surpassing far all that was done in our part of the
country, which I thought was not to be paralleled. When I came
afterwards to reflect on my simplicity in this, it was clear to me that
we should not judge of the rest of the world by what we see going on
around ourselves, but walk abroad into other parts, and thereby enlarge
our sphere of observation, as well as ripen our judgment of things.
But although there was no doubt a great and visible increase of the city,
loftier buildings on all sides, and streets that spread their arms far
into the embraces of the country, I thought the looks of the population
were impaired, and that there was a greater proportion of long white
faces in the Trongate, than when I attended the Divinity class. These, I
was told, were the weavers and others concerned in the cotton trade,
which I could well believe, for they were very like in their looks to the
men of Cayenneville; but from living in a crowded town, and not breathing
a wholesome country air between their tasks, they had a stronger cast of
unhealthy melancholy. I was therefore very glad that Providence had
placed in my hand the pastoral staff of a country parish; for it cut me
to the heart to see so many young men, in the rising prime of life,
already in the arms of a pale consumption. “If, therefore,” said I to
Mrs. Balwhidder, when I returned home to the manse, “we live, as it were,
within the narrow circle of ignorance, we are spared from the pain of
knowing many an evil; and, surely, in much knowledge there is sadness of
heart.”
But the main effect of this was to make me do all in my power to keep my
people contented with their lowly estate; for in that same spirit of
improvement, which was so busy every where, I could discern something
like a shadow, that showed it was not altogether of that pure advantage
which avarice led all so eagerly to believe. Accordingly, I began a
series of sermons on the evil and vanity of riches, and, for the most
part of the year, pointed out in what manner they led the possessor to
indulge in sinful luxuries, and how indulgence begat desire, and desire
betrayed integrity and corrupted the heart; making it evident that the
rich man was liable to forget his unmerited obligations to God, and to
oppress the laborious and the needful when he required their services.
Little did I imagine, in thus striving to keep aloof the ravenous wolf
Ambition from my guileless flock, that I was giving cause for many to
think me an enemy to the king and government, and a perverter of
Christianity, to suit levelling doctrines. But so it was. Many of the
heritors considered me a blackneb, though I knew it not, but went on in
the course of my duty, thinking only how best to preserve peace on earth
and goodwill towards men. I saw, however, an altered manner in the
deportment of several, with whom I had long lived in friendly terms. It
was not marked enough to make me inquire the cause, but sufficiently
plain to affect my ease of mind. Accordingly, about the end of this
year, I fell into a dull way: my spirit was subdued, and at times I was
aweary of the day, and longed for the night, when I might close my eyes
in peaceful slumbers. I missed my son Gilbert, who had been a companion
to me in the long nights, while his mother was busy with the lasses, and
their ceaseless wheels and cardings, in the kitchen. Often could I have
found it in my heart to have banned that never-ceasing industry, and to
tell Mrs. Balwhidder, that the married state was made for something else
than to make napery and beetle blankets; but it was her happiness to keep
all at work, and she had no pleasure in any other way of life, so I sat
many a night by the fireside with resignation; sometimes in the study,
and sometimes in the parlour, and, as I was doing nothing, Mrs.
Balwhidder said it was needless to light the candle. Our daughter Janet
was in this time at a boarding-school in Ayr, so that I was really a most
solitary married man.