Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected
without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have
been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with
underscores: _italics_.
JAMES FREDERICK FERRIER
FAMOUS SCOTS SERIES
_The following Volumes are now ready_--
THOMAS CARLYLE. By HECTOR C. MACPHERSON
ALLAN RAMSAY. By OLIPHANT SMEATON
HUGH MILLER. By W. KEITH LEASK
JOHN KNOX. By A. TAYLOR INNES
ROBERT BURNS. By GABRIEL SETOUN
THE BALLADISTS. By JOHN GEDDIE
RICHARD CAMERON. By Professor HERKLESS
SIR JAMES Y. SIMPSON. By EVE BLANTYRE SIMPSON
THOMAS CHALMERS. By Professor W. GARDEN BLAIKIE
JAMES BOSWELL. By W. KEITH LEASK
TOBIAS SMOLLETT. By OLIPHANT SMEATON
FLETCHER OF SALTOUN. By G. W. T. OMOND
THE BLACKWOOD GROUP. By SIR GEORGE DOUGLAS
NORMAN MACLEOD. By JOHN WELLWOOD
SIR WALTER SCOTT. By Professor SAINTSBURY
KIRKCALDY OF GRANGE. By LOUIS A. BARBÉ
ROBERT FERGUSSON. By A. B. GROSART
JAMES THOMSON. By WILLIAM BAYNE
MUNGO PARK. By T. BANKS MACLACHLAN
DAVID HUME. By Professor CALDERWOOD
WILLIAM DUNBAR. By OLIPHANT SMEATON
SIR WILLIAM WALLACE. By Professor MURISON
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. By MARGARET MOYES BLACK
THOMAS REID. By Professor CAMPBELL FRASER
POLLOK and AYTOUN. By ROSALINE MASSON
ADAM SMITH. By HECTOR C. MACPHERSON
ANDREW MELVILLE. By WILLIAM MORRISON
JAMES FREDERICK FERRIER. By E. S. HALDANE
JAMES FREDERICK FERRIER
BY
E. S. HALDANE
FAMOUS SCOTS SERIES
PUBLISHED BY OLIPHANT ANDERSON & FERRIER
EDINBURGH AND LONDON
The designs and ornaments of this volume are by Mr. Joseph Brown, and
the printing from the press of Morrison & Gibb Limited, Edinburgh.
1899.
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 7
CHAPTER I
EARLY LIFE 11
CHAPTER II
WANDERJAHRE--SOCIAL LIFE IN SCOTLAND--BEGINNING OF
HIS LITERARY WORK 27
CHAPTER III
PHILOSOPHY BEFORE FERRIER'S DAY 41
CHAPTER IV
'FIERCE WARRES AND FAITHFUL LOVES' 56
CHAPTER V
DEVELOPMENT OF 'SCOTTISH PHILOSOPHY, THE OLD AND THE
NEW'--FERRIER AS A CORRESPONDENT 72
CHAPTER VI
FERRIER'S SYSTEM OF PHILOSOPHY--HIS PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS 88
CHAPTER VII
THE COLERIDGE PLAGIARISM--MISCELLANEOUS LITERARY WORK 106
CHAPTER VIII
PROFESSORIAL LIFE 122
CHAPTER IX
LIFE AT ST. ANDREWS 138
CHAPTER X
LAST DAYS 152
JAMES FREDERICK FERRIER
INTRODUCTION
Mr. Oliphant Smeaton has asked me to write a few words of preface to
this little book. If I try, it is only because I am old enough to have
had the privilege of knowing some of those who were most closely
associated with Ferrier.
When I sat at the feet of Professor Campbell Fraser in the Metaphysics
classroom at Edinburgh in 1875, Ferrier's writings were being much read
by us students. The influence of Sir William Hamilton was fast
crumbling in the minds of young men who felt rather than saw that much
lay beyond it. We were still engrossed with the controversy, waged in
books which now, alas! sell for a tenth of their former price, about
the Conditioned and the Unconditioned. We still worked at Reid,
Hamilton, and Mansel. But the attacks of Mill on the one side, and of
Ferrier and Dr. Stirling on the other, were slowly but surely
withdrawing our interest. Ferrier had pointed out a path which seemed
to lead us in the direction of Germany if we would escape from Mill,
and Stirling was urging us in the same sense. It was not merely that
Ferrier had written books. He had died more than ten years earlier, but
his personality was still a living influence. Echoes of his words came
to us through Grant and Sellar. Outside the University, men like
Blackwood and Makgill made us feel what a power he had been. But that
was not all for at least some of us. Mrs. Ferrier had removed to
Edinburgh--and I endorse all that my sister says of her rare quality.
She lived in a house in Torphichen Street, which was the resort of
those attracted, not only by the memory of her husband, but by her own
great gifts. She was an old lady and an invalid. But though she could
not move from her chair, paralysis had not dimmed her mental powers.
She was a true daughter of 'Christopher North.' I doubt whether I have
seen her rival in quickness, her superior I never saw. She could talk
admirably to those sitting near her, and yet follow and join in the
conversation of another group at the end of the room. She could adapt
herself to everyone--to the shy and awkward student of eighteen, who
like myself was too much in awe of her to do more unhelped than answer,
and to the distinguished men of letters who came from every quarter
attracted by her reputation for brilliance. The words of no one could
be more incisive, the words of no one were habitually more kind than
hers. She had known everybody. She forgot nobody. In those days the
relation between Literature and the Parliament House, if less close
than it had been, was more apparent than it is to-day, and
distinguished Scottish judges and advocates mingled in the afternoon in
the drawing-room, where she sat in a great arm-chair, with such men as
Sellar and Stevenson and Grant and Shairp and Tulloch. But her
personality was the supreme bond.
Those days are over, and with them has passed away much of what
stimulated one to read in the _Institutes_ or the _Philosophical
Remains_. But for the historian of British philosophy Ferrier
continues as a prominent figure. He it was who first did, what Stirling
and Green did again at a stage later on--make a serious appeal to
thoughtful people to follow no longer the shallow rivulets down which
the teaching of the great German thinkers had trickled to them, but to
seek the sources. If as a guide to those sources we do not look on him
to-day as adequate, we are not the less under a deep obligation to him
for having been the pioneer of later guides. What Ferrier wrote about
forty years ago has now become readily accessible, and what has been
got by going there is in process of rapid and complete assimilation.
The opinions which were in 1856 regarded by the authorities of the Free
and United Presbyterian Churches as disqualifying Ferrier for the
opportunity of influencing the mind of the youth of Edinburgh, from the
Chair of Logic and Metaphysics in succession to Sir William Hamilton,
are regarded by the present generation of Presbyterians as the main
reliable bulwark against the attacks of unbelievers. If one may judge
by the essays in the recent volume called _Lux Mundi_, the same
phenomenon displays itself among the young High Church party in
England. The Time-Spirit is fond of revenges.
But even for others than the historians of the movement of Thought the
books of Ferrier remain attractive. There is about them a certain
atmosphere in which everything seems alive and fresh. Their author was
no Dryasdust. He was a living human being, troubled as we are troubled,
and interested in the things which interest us. He spoke to us, not
from the skies, but from among a crowd of his fellow human beings, and
we feel that he was one of ourselves. As such it is good that a
memorial of him should be placed where it may easily be seen.
R. B. HALDANE.
CHAPTER I
EARLY LIFE
It may be a truism, but it is none the less a fact, that it is not
always he of whom the world hears most who influences most deeply the
thought of the age in which he lives. The name of James Frederick
Ferrier is little heard of beyond the comparatively small circle of
philosophic thinkers who reverence his memory and do their best to keep
it green: to others it is a name of little import--one among a
multitude at a time when Scotland had many sons rising up to call her
blessed, and not perhaps one of the most notable of these. And yet,
could we but estimate the value of work accomplished in the higher
sphere of thought as we estimate it in the other regions of practical
work--an impossibility, of course--we might be disposed to modify our
views, and accord our praises in very different quarters from those in
which they are usually bestowed.
James Ferrier wrote no popular books; he came before the public
comparatively little; he made no effort to reconcile religion with
philosophy on the one hand, or to propound theories startling in their
unorthodoxy on the other. And still we may claim for him a place--and
an honourable place--amongst the other Famous Scots, for the simple
reason that after a long century of wearisome reiteration of tiresome
platitudes--platitudes which had lost their original meaning even to
the utterers of them, and which had become misleading to those who
heard and thought they understood--Ferrier had the courage to strike
out new lines for himself, to look abroad for new inspiration, and to
hand on these inspirations to those who could work them into a truly
national philosophy.
In Scotland, where, in spite of politics, traditions are honoured to a
degree unknown to most other countries, family and family associations
count for much; and in these James Ferrier was rich. His father was a
Writer to the Signet, John Ferrier by name, whose sister was the famous
Scottish novelist, Susan Ferrier, authoress of _The Inheritance_,
_Destiny_, and _Marriage_. Susan Ferrier did for high life in Scotland
what Gait achieved for the humbler ranks of society, and attained to
considerable eminence in the line of fiction which she adopted. Her
works are still largely read, have recently been republished, and in
their day were greatly admired by no less an authority than Sir Walter
Scott, himself a personal friend of the authoress.[1] Ferrier's
grandfather, James Ferrier, also a Writer to the Signet, was a man of
great energy of character. He acted in a business capacity for many
years both to the Duke of Argyle of the time and to various branches of
the Clan Campbell: it was, indeed, through the influence of the Duke
that he obtained the appointment which he held of Principal Clerk of
Session. James Ferrier, like his daughter, was on terms of intimate
friendship with Sir Walter Scott, with whom he likewise was a colleague
in office. Scott alludes to him in his Journal as 'Uncle Adam,' the
name of a character in Miss Ferrier's _Inheritance_, drawn, as she
herself acknowledges, from her father. He died in 1829, at which time
Scott writes of him: 'Honest old Mr. Ferrier is dead, at extreme old
age. I confess I should not like to live so long. He was a man with
strong passions and strong prejudices, but with generous and manly
sentiments at the same time.' James Ferrier's wife, Miss Coutts, was
remarkable for her beauty: a large family was born to her, the eldest
son of whom was James Frederick Ferrier's father. Young Ferrier, the
subject of this sketch, used frequently to dine with his grandfather at
his house in Morningside, where Susan Ferrier acted in the capacity of
hostess; and it is easy to imagine the bright talk which would take
place on these occasions, and the impression which must have been made
upon the lad, both then and after he attained to manhood; for Miss
Ferrier survived until 1854. In later life, indeed, her wit was said to
be somewhat caustic, and she was possibly dreaded by her younger
friends and relatives as much as she was respected; but this, to do her
justice, was partly owing to infirmities. She was at anyrate keenly
interested in the fortunes of her nephew, to whom she was in the habit
of alluding as 'the last of the metaphysicians'--scarcely, perhaps, a
very happy title for one who was somewhat of an iconoclast, and began a
new era rather than concluded an old.
[1] In a _Life of Susan Ferrier_, lately published, an
account of the family is given which was written by Miss
Ferrier, for her nephew, the subject of our memoir.
James Frederick Ferrier's mother, Margaret Wilson, was a sister of
Professor John Wilson--the 'Christopher North' of immortal memory,
whose daughter he was afterwards to marry. Margaret Ferrier was a woman
of striking personal beauty. Her features were perfect in their
symmetry, as is shown in a lovely miniature, painted by Saunders, a
well-known miniature painter of the day, now in the possession of
Professor Ferrier's son, her grandson. Many of these personal charms
descended to James Ferrier, whose well-cut features bore considerable
resemblance to his mother's. And his close connection with the Wilson
family had the result of bringing the young man into association with
whatever was best in literature and art. While yet a boy, we are told,
he sat upon Sir Walter's knee; the Ettrick Shepherd had told him tales
and recited Border ballads; while Lockhart took the trouble to draw
pictures, as he only could, to amuse the child.
In surroundings such as these James Frederick Ferrier was born on the
16th day of June 1808, his birthplace being Heriot Row, in the new town
of Edinburgh--a street which has been made historic to us by the
recollections of another child who lived there long years afterwards,
and who left the grey city of his birth to die far off in an island in
the Pacific. But of Ferrier's child-life we know nothing: whether he
played at 'tig' or 'shinty' with the children in the adjoining gardens,
or climbed Arthur's Seat, or tried to scale the 'Cats' Nick' in the
Salisbury Crags close by; or whether he was a grave boy, 'holding at'
his lessons, or reading other books that interested him, in preference
to his play. Ferrier did not dwell on these things or talk much of his
youth; or if he did so, his words have been forgotten. What we do
know are the barest facts: that his second name was given him in
consideration of his father's friendship with Lord Frederick Campbell,
Lord Clerk Register of Scotland; that his first name, as is usual in
Scotland for an elder son, was his paternal grandfather's; and that he
was sent to live with the Rev. Dr. Duncan, the parish minister of
Ruthwell, in Dumfriesshire, to receive his early education. Dr. Duncan
of Ruthwell was a man of considerable ability and energy of character,
though not famous in any special sphere of learning. He is well known,
however, in the south of Scotland as the originator of Savings Banks
there, and his works on the Seasons bear evidence of an interest in the
natural world. At anyrate the time passed in Dumfriesshire would appear
to have left pleasant recollections; for when Ferrier in later life
alluded to it, it was with every indication of gratitude for the
instruction which he received. He kept up his friendship with the sons
of his instructor as years went on, and always expressed himself as
deeply attached to the place where a happy childhood had been passed.
Nor was learning apparently neglected, for Ferrier began his Latin
studies at Ruthwell, and there first learned--an unusual lesson for so
young a boy--to delight in the reading of the Latin poets, and of
Virgil and Ovid in particular. After leaving Ruthwell, he attended the
High School of Edinburgh, the great Grammar School of the metropolis,
which was, however, soon to have a rival in another day school set up
in the western part of the rapidly growing town; and then he was sent
to school at Greenwich, where he was placed under the care of Dr.
Burney, a nephew of the famous Fanny Burney, afterwards Madame
d'Arblay. From school, as the manner of the time was, the boy passed to
the University of Edinburgh at the age of seventeen,--older really than
was customary in his day,--and here he remained for the two sessions
1825-26 and 1826-27, or until he was old enough to matriculate at
Oxford. At Edinburgh, Ferrier distinguished himself in the class of
Moral Philosophy, and carried off the prize of the year for a poem
which was looked upon as giving promise of literary power afterwards
fulfilled. His knowledge of Latin and Greek were considered good (the
standard might not have been very high), but in mathematics he was
nowhere. At Oxford he was entered in 1828 as a 'gentleman-commoner' at
Magdalen College, the College of his future father-in-law, John Wilson.
A gentleman-commoner of Magdalen in the earlier half of the century is
not suggestive of severe mental exercise,[2] and from the very little
one can gather from tradition--for contemporaries and friends have
naturally passed away--James Ferrier was no exception to the common
rule. That he rode is very clear; the College was an expensive one,
and he was probably inclined to be extravagant. Tradition speaks of
his pelting the deer in Magdalen Park with eggs; but as to further
distinction in more intellectual lines, record does not tell. In this
respect he presents a contrast to his predecessor at Oxford, and friend
of later days, Sir William Hamilton, whose monumental learning created
him a reputation while still an undergraduate. Sir Roundell Palmer,
afterwards Lord Selborne, was a contemporary of Ferrier's at Oxford;
Sheriff Campbell Smith was at the bar of the House of Lords acting as
Palmer's junior the day after Ferrier's death, and Sir Roundell told
him that he remembered Ferrier well at College; he described him as
'careless about University work,' but as writing clever verses, several
of which he repeated with considerable gusto. Of other friends the
names alone are preserved, William Edward Collins, afterwards
Collins-Wood of Keithick, Perthshire, who died in 1877, and J. P.
Shirley of Ettington Park, in Warwickshire;[3] but what influences were
brought to bear upon him by his University life, or whether his
interest in philosophical pursuits were in any way aroused during his
time at College, we have no means of telling. A later friend, Henry
Inglis, wrote of these early days: 'My friendship with Ferrier began
about the time he was leaving Oxford, or immediately after he had left
it--I should say about 1830 or thereabout. At that University I don't
think he did anything more remarkable than contracting a large tailor's
bill; which annoyed him for many years afterwards. At that time he was
a wonderfully handsome, intellectual-looking young man,--a tremendous
"swell" from top to toe, and with his hair hanging down over his
shoulders.' Though later on in life this last characteristic was not so
marked, Ferrier's photographs show his hair still fairly long and
brushed off a finely-modelled square forehead, such as is usually
associated with strongly developed intellectual faculties.
[2] The gentlemen-commoners at Magdalen, as elsewhere, paid
higher fees and wore a distinctive costume; at Magdalen they
had a common room of their own, distinct from that of the
Fellows, or the Demies or Scholars, and seldom read for
honours. In Ferrier's days Magdalen College admitted no
ordinary commoners, and there were but few resident
undergraduates, many of the thirty demies being graduates
and non-resident. In the year of his matriculation there
were only ten gentlemen-commoners; thus, as far as
undergraduates went, the College was a small one.
[3] Mr. Shirley was Member of Parliament for South
Warwickshire, a well-known genealogist, and the author of
_The Noble and Gentle Men of England_.
It is known that Ferrier took his Bachelor's degree in 1832, and that
he had by that time managed to acquire a very tolerable knowledge of
the classics and begun to study philosophy, so that his time could not
have been entirely idle. For the rest, he probably passed happily
through his years at College, as many others have done before and after
him, without allowing more weighty cares to dwell upon his mind.
Another friend of after days, the late Principal Tulloch, after noting
the fact that Oxford had not then developed the philosophic spirit
which in recent years has marked her schools, and which had not then
taken root any more than the High Church movement which preceded it,
goes on: 'It may be doubted, indeed, whether Oxford exercised any
definite intellectual influence on Professor Ferrier. He had imbibed
his love for the Latin poets before he went there, and his devotion to
Greek philosophy was an after-growth with which he never associated his
Magdalen studies. To one who visited the College with him many years
afterwards, and to whom he pointed out with admiration its noble walks
and trees, his associations with the place seemed to be mainly those of
amusement. There is reason to think that few of those who knew him at
Magdalen would have afterwards recognised him in the laborious student
at St. Andrews, who for weeks together would scarcely cross the
threshold of his study; and yet to all who knew him well, there was
nevertheless a clear connection between the gay gownsman and the
hard-working Professor.'
In 1832, Ferrier became an advocate at Edinburgh, but it does not
appear that he had any serious idea of practising at the Bar. This is
the period at which we know that the passion for metaphysical
speculation laid hold of him,--a passion which is unintelligible and
inexplicable to those who do not share in it,--and as Ferrier could not
clearly say in what direction this was leading him, as far as practical
life was concerned, he probably deemed it best to attach himself to a
profession which left much scope to the adopter of it, to strike out
lines of his own. What led Ferrier to determine to spend some months of
the year 1834 at Heidelberg it would be extremely interesting to know.
The friend first quoted writes: 'I cannot tell of the influences under
which he devoted himself to metaphysics. My opinion is that there were
none, but that he was a philosopher born. He attached himself at once
to the fellowship of Sir William Hamilton, to whom he was introduced by
a common friend--I think the late Mr. Ludovic Colquhoun. I know that he
looked on Sir William at that time as his master.'
Probably the friendship with Hamilton simply arose from the natural
attraction which two sympathetic spirits feel to one another. It is
clear that at this time Ferrier's bent was towards metaphysics, and
that, as Mr. Inglis says, this bent was born with him and was only
beginning to find its natural outlet; therefore it would be very
natural to suppose that acquaintance would be sought with one who was
at this time in the zenith of his powers, and whose writings in the
_Edinburgh Review_ were exciting liveliest interest. A casual
acquaintanceship between the young man of three-and-twenty and the
matured philosopher twenty years his senior soon ripened into a
friendship, not perhaps common between two men so different in age. It
is perhaps more remarkable considering the differences in opinion on
philosophical questions which soon arose between the two; for it is
just as difficult for those whose point of view is fundamentally
opposed on speculative questions to carry on an intercourse concerning
their pursuits which shall be both friendly and unconstrained, as for
two political opponents to discuss vital questions of policy without
any undercurrent of self-restraint, when they start from entirely
opposite principles. Most likely had the two been actually
contemporaries it might not have been so easy, but as it was, the
younger man started with, and preserved, the warmest feelings to his
senior; and even in his criticisms he expresses himself in the
strongest terms of gratitude: 'He (Hamilton) has taught those who study
him to _think_, and he must take the consequences, whether they think
in unison with himself or not. We conceive, however, that even those
who differ from him most, would readily own that to his instructive
disquisitions they were indebted for at least half of all they know of
philosophy.' And in the appendix to the _Institutes_, written soon
after Sir William's death, Ferrier says: 'Morally and intellectually,
Sir William Hamilton was among the greatest of the great. A simpler and
a grander nature never arose out of darkness into human life; a truer
and a manlier character God never made. For years together scarcely a
day passed in which I was not in his company for hours, and never on
this earth may I expect to live such happy hours again. I have learned
more from him than from all other philosophers put together; more, both
as regards what I assented to and what I dissented from.' It was this
open and free discussion of all questions that came before
them--discussion in which there must have been much difference of
opinion freely expressed on both sides, that made these evenings spent
in Manor Place, where the Hamiltons, then a recently married couple,
had lately settled, so delightful to young Ferrier. He had
individuality and originality enough not to be carried away by the
arguments used by so great an authority and so learned a man as his
friend was reckoned, and then as later he constantly expressed his
regret that powers so great had been devoted to the service of a
philosophic system--that of Reid--of which Ferrier so thoroughly
disapproved. But at the same time he hardly dared to expect that the
labours of a lifetime could be set aside at the bidding of a man so
much his junior, and to say the truth it is doubtful whether Hamilton
ever fully grasped his opponent's point of view. Still, Ferrier tells
us that from first to last his whole intercourse with Sir William
Hamilton was marked with more pleasure and less pain than ever attended
his intercourse with any human being, and after Hamilton was gone he
cherished that memory with affectionate esteem. A touching account is
given in Sir William's life of how during that terrible illness which
so sadly impaired his powers and nearly took his life, Ferrier might be
seen pacing to and fro on the street opposite his bedroom window during
the whole anxious night, watching for indications of his condition, yet
unwilling to intrude on the attendants, and unable to tear himself from
the spot where his friend was possibly passing through the last agony.
Such friendship is honourable to both men concerned.
Perhaps, then, it was this intercourse with kindred spirits (for many
such were in the habit of gathering at the Professor's house) that
caused Ferrier finally to determine to make philosophy the pursuit of
his life--this combined, it may be, with the interest in letters which
he could not fail to derive from his own immediate circle. He was in
constant communication with Susan Ferrier, his aunt, who encouraged his
literary bent to the utmost of her power. Then Professor Wilson, his
uncle, though of a very different character from his own, attracted him
by his brightness and wit--a brightness which he says he can hardly
bring before himself, far less communicate to others who had not known
him. Perhaps, as the same friend quoted before suggests, the attraction
was partly due to another source. He says: 'How Ferrier got on with
Wilson I never could divine; unless it were through the bright eyes of
his daughter. Wilson and Ferrier seemed to me as opposite as the poles;
the one all poetry, the other all prose. But the youth probably yielded
to the mature majesty and genius of the man. Had they met on equal
terms I don't think they could have agreed for ten minutes. As it was,
they had serious differences at times, which, however, I believe were
all ultimately and happily adjusted.'
The visits to his uncle's home, and the attractive young lady whom he
there met, must have largely contributed to Ferrier's happiness in
these years of mental fermentation. Such times come in many men's lives
when youth is turning into manhood, and powers are wakening up within
that seem as though they would lead us we know not whither. And so it
may have been with Ferrier. But he was endowed with considerable
calmness and self-command, combined with a confidence in his powers
sufficient to carry him through many difficulties that might otherwise
have got the better of him. Wilson's home, Elleray, near the Lake of
Windermere, was the centre of a circle of brilliant stars. Ferrier
recollected, while still a lad of seventeen years of age, meeting there
at one time, in the summer of 1825, Scott, Wordsworth, Lockhart, and
Canning, a conjunction difficult to beat.[4] Once more, we are told,
and on a sadder occasion, he came into association with the greatest
Scottish novelist. 'It was on that gloomy voyage when the suffering man
was conveyed to Leith from London, on his return from his ill-fated
foreign journey. Mr. Ferrier was also a passenger, and scarcely dared
to look on the almost unconscious form of one whose genius he so warmly
admired.' The end was then very near.
[4] This meeting occurred after the Irish tour of Scott,
Miss Anne Scott, and Lockhart, when they visited Wilson at
Elleray. Canning was staying at Storre, in the
neighbourhood.
Professor Ferrier's daughter tells us that long after, in the summer of
1856, the family went to visit the English Lakes, the centre of
attraction being Elleray, Mr. Ferrier's old home and birthplace. 'The
very name of Elleray breathes of poetry and romance. Our father and
mother had, of course, known it in its glorious prime, when our
grandfather, "Christopher North," wrestled with dalesmen, strolled in
his slippers with Wordsworth to Keswick (a distance of seventeen
miles), and kept his ten-oared barge in the long drawing-room of
Elleray. In these days they had "rich company," and the names of
Southey, Wordsworth, De Quincey, and Coleridge were to them familiar
household words. The cottage my mother was born in still stands,
overshadowed by a giant sycamore.'
We can easily imagine the effect which society such as this would have
on a young man's mind. But more than that, the friendship with the
attractive cousin, Margaret Wilson, developed into something warmer,
and an engagement was finally formed, which culminated in his marriage
in 1837. Not many of James Ferrier's letters to his cousin during the
long engagement have been preserved; the few that are were written from
Germany in 1834, the year in which he went to Heidelberg; they were
addressed to Thirlstane House, near Selkirk, where Miss Wilson was
residing, and they give a lively account of his adventures.
The voyage from Leith to Rotterdam, judging from the first letter
written from Heidelberg, and dated August 1834, would appear to have
begun in inauspicious fashion. Ferrier writes: 'I have just been here a
week, and would have answered your letter sooner, had it not been that
I wished to make myself tolerably well acquainted with the surrounding
scenery before writing to you, and really the heat has been so
overwhelming that I have been impelled to take matters leisurely, and
have not even yet been able to get through so much _view-hunting_ as I
should have wished. What I have seen I will endeavour to describe to
you. This place itself is most delightful, and the country about it is
magnificent. But this, as a reviewer would say, _by way of
anticipation_. Have patience, and in the meantime let me take events in
their natural order, and begin by telling you I sailed from Leith on
the morning of the second of this month, with no wind at all. We
drifted on, I know not how, and toward evening were within gunshot of
Inchkeith; on the following morning we were in sight of the Bass, and
in sight of the same we continued during the whole day. For the next
two or three days we went beating up against a head-wind, which forced
us to tack so much that whenever we made one mile we travelled ten, a
pleasant mode of progressing, is it not? However, I had the whole ship
to myself, and plenty of female society in the person of the captain's
lady, who, being fond of pleasure, had chosen to diversify her
monotonous existence at Leith by taking a delightful summer trip to
Rotterdam, which confined her to her crib during almost the whole of
our passage under the pressure of racking headaches and roaring
sickness. She had a weary time of it, poor woman, and nothing could do
her any good--neither spelding, cheese, nor finnan haddies, nor bacon,
nor broth, nor salt beef, nor ale, nor gin, nor brandy and water, nor
Epsom salts, though of one or other of these she was _aye takin'_ a wee
bit, or a little drop. We were nearly a week in clearing our own Firth,
and did no good till we got as far as Scarborough. At this place I had
serious intentions of getting ashore if possible, and making out the
rest of my journey by means that were more to be depended on. Just in
the nick of time, however, a fair wind sprang up, and from Scarborough
we had a capital run, with little or no interruption, to the end of our
voyage.' An account of a ten days' voyage which makes us thankful to be
in great measure independent of the winds at sea! Holland, our
traveller thinks an intolerable country to live in, and the first
impressions of the Rhine are distinctly unfavourable. 'The river
himself is a fine fellow, certainly, but the country through which he
flows is stale, flat, though I believe, not unprofitable. The banks on
either side are covered either with reeds or with a matting of rank
shrubbery formed apparently out of dirty green worsted, and the
continuance of it so palls upon the senses that the mind at last
becomes unconscious of everything except the constant flap-flapping of
the weary paddles as they go beating on, awakening the dull echoes of
the sedgy shores. The eye is occasionally relieved by patches of naked
sand, and now and then a stone about the size of your fist, diversifies
the monotony of the scene. Occasionally, in the distance, are to be
seen funny, forlorn-looking objects, trying evidently to look like
trees, but whether they would really turn out to be trees on a nearer
inspection is what I very much doubt.' At Cologne he had an amusing
meeting with an Englishman, 'whom I at once twigged to be an Oxford
man, and more, even, an Oxford tutor. There is a stiff twitch in the
right shoulder of the tribe, answering to a similar one in the hip-bone
on the same side, which there is no mistaking.' The tutor appears to
have done valiant service in making known the traveller's wants in
French to waiters, etc., though 'he spent rather too much of his time
in scheming how to abridge the sixpence which, "time out of mind," has
been the perquisite of Boots, doorkeepers, etc.' 'But,' he adds in
excuse, 'his name was Bull, and therefore, as the authentic epitome of
his countrymen, he would not fail to possess this along with the other
peculiarities of Englishmen.' From Cologne, Ferrier went to Bonn, where
he had an introduction to Dr. Welsh, and then proceeded up the Rhine to
Mayence. He does not form a very high estimate of the beauty of the
scenery. He feels 'a want of something; in fact, to my mind, there is a
want of everything which makes earth, wood, and water something more
than mere water, wood, and earth. We have here a constant and endless
variety of imposing objects (imposing is just the word for them), but
there is no variety in them, nothing but one round-backed hill after
another, generally carrying their woods, when they have any, very
stiffly, and when they have none presenting to the eye a surface of
tawdry and squalid patchwork,' thus suggesting, in his view, a series
of children's gardens--an impression often left on travellers when
visiting this same country. His next letters find him settled in the
University town of Heidelberg.