Francis Bennoch, the son of a farmer on the property of the Duke of
Buccleuch, and of a mother whose family have been tenants on the same
estate for nearly two hundred years, was born at Drumcrool, in the
parish of Durrisdeer, and county of Dumfries, on the 25th June 1812. At
the age of sixteen, in February 1828, he arrived in London, and entered
a house of business in the city. During the nine ensuing years, he
assiduously pursued his avocation, and strove to make himself master of
the elements and practice of trade. In 1837 he commenced on his own
responsibility, and every succeeding year has advanced him in mercantile
prosperity and position. Now, at the head of the firm of Bennoch,
Twentyman, & Rigg, wholesale traders and manufacturers, there is no name
in the city more universally respected.
In the corporate body of the city of London Mr Bennoch for some years
took a prominent part as a citizen, a common councilman, and lastly as
the deputy of a ward. An independent man and a reformer of abuses, he
has so managed his opposition to measures, and even to men, as to win
the warm approval of his own friends, and the respect of the leaders of
all parties. His plans for bridging the Thames may be referred to in
proof of his patriotic devotedness to improvement.
Influenced in his youth by the genius of the locality in which he was
born, to which the Ayrshire Ploughman had left a legacy of immortal
song, succeeded by Allan Cunningham, and a number of distinguished
followers, it was not, however, till he had been two years a denizen of
the metropolis that Mr Bennoch's Scottish feeling sought to vent itself
in verse. The love of country is as inherent and vehement in the
children of the North as in the Swiss mountaineers; wheresoever they
wander from it, their hearts yearn towards the fatherland--
"Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
Land of the mountain and the flood,
Land of their sires"--
with the same cherished and enduring affection which excites in the
_Rans des Vaches_ so overpowering a sympathy. And the pastoral is
perhaps even more replete with the poetical elements than the "stern and
wild." It is amid such scenes as the Doon, the Tweed, the Teviot, the
Ettrick, the Gala, and the Nith adorn, that the jaded senses are prone
to seek recreation, and the spirit, tired with work or worn with cares,
flees rejoicingly from the world to the repose of its first breathing
and time-sweetened, boyish delights. Thus we find young Bennoch, amid
the clatter of the great city, turning to the quiet of his native valley
to sing the charms of the Nith, where he
"Had paidlet i' the burn,
And pu'd the gowans fine."
It was in the _Dumfries Courier_ that his first poetic essay found its
way to print. That journal was then edited by the veteran M'Diarmid,
himself an honour to the literature of Scotland, and no mean judge of
its poetry. A cheer from such a quarter was worth the winning, and our
aspirant fairly won it, by the five stanzas of which the following is
the last:--
"The flowers may fade upon your banks,
The breckan on the brae,
But, oh! the love I ha'e for thee
Shall never pass away.
Though age may wrinkle this smooth brow,
And youth be like a dream,
Still, still my voice to heaven shall rise
For blessings on your stream!"
But banks and braes, and straths and streams, and woods and waves,
though very dear to memory, merely come up to the painted beauties of
descriptive verse. They must be warmed through
"The dearest theme
That ever waked the poet's dream,"
and love must fill the vision, before the soul can soar above the
delicious but inanimate charms of earth, into the glowing region of
human feeling and passion.
"In peace, Love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And man below, and saints above:
For love is heaven, and heaven is love!"
Nor was this essential inspiration wanting in the breast of the young
bard. The climate of Caledonia is cold, but that the hearts of her sons
are susceptible of tropic warmth is shewn by a large proportion of her
lyric treasures. Heroism, pathos, satire, and a peculiar quaint humour,
present little more than an equal division, and the attributes of the
wholly embodied Scottish muse attest the truth of the remark on the
characteristic heat and fire which pervade her population, and excite
them to daring in war and ardour in gentler pursuits. Thus Bennoch sung
his Mary, Jessie, Bessie, Isabel, and other belles, but above all his
Margaret:--
"The moon is shining, Margaret,
Serenely bright above,
And, like my dearest Margaret,
Her every look is love!
The trees are waving, Margaret,
And balmy is the air,
Where flowers are breathing, Margaret,
Come, let us wander there.
* * * * *
Yes! there 's a hand, dear Margaret,
A heart it gives to thee;
When heaven is false, my Margaret,
Then I may faithless be."
In the volume whence the preceding quotations are taken (second edition,
1843), the principal poem is "The Storm," in which occur many passages
of singular vigour, and slighter touches of genuine poetry. Thus--
"The sea, by day so smooth and bright,
Is far more lovely seen by night,
When o'er old Ocean's wrinkled brow,
The night has hung her silver bow,
And stars in myriads ope their eyes
To guide the footsteps of the wise,
And in the deep reflected lie,
Till Ocean seems a second sky;
And ships, like wing'd aerial cars,
Are voyaging among the stars."