James Nasmyth: Engineer; an autobiography Part 6

One of my greatest enjoyments when a child was in going out with the servants to the Calton, and wait while the "claes" bleached in the sun on the gra.s.sy slopes of the hill. The air was bright and fresh and pure. The la.s.ses regarded these occasions as a sort of holiday.

One or two of the children usually accompanied them. They sat together, and the servants told us their auld-warld stories; common enough in those days, but which have now, in a measure, been forgotten.

"Steam" and "progress" have made the world much less youthful and joyous than it was then.

The women brought their work and their needles with them, and when they had told their stories, the children ran about the hill making bunches of wild flowers--including harebells and wild thyme. They ran after the b.u.t.terflies and the b.u.mbees, and made acquaintance in a small way with the beauties of nature. Then the servants opened their baskets of provisions, and we had a delightful picnic. Though I am now writing about seventy years after the date of these events, I can almost believe that I am enjoying the delightful perfume of the wild thyme and the fragrant plants and flowers, wafted around me by the warm breezes of the Calton hillside.

In the days I refer to, there was always a most cheerful and intimate intercourse kept up between the children and the servants. They were members of the same family, and were treated as such. The servants were for the most part country-bred--daughters of farm servants or small farmers. They were fairly educated at their parish schools; they could read and write, and had an abundant store of old recollections. Many a pleasant crack we had with them as to their native places, their families, and all that was connected with them.

They became lastingly attached to their masters and mistresses, as well as to the children. All this led to true attachment; and when they left; us, for the most part to be married we continued to keep up a correspondence with them, which lasted for many years.

While enjoying these delightful holidays, before my school-days began, my practical education was in progress, especially in the way of acquaintance with the habits of nature in a vast variety of its phases, always so attractive to the minds of healthy children. It happened that close to the Calton Hill, in the valley at its northern side, there were many workshops where interesting trades were carried on; there were coppersmiths, tinsmiths, bra.s.s-founders, goldbeaters, and blacksmiths. Their shops were all arranged in a busy group at the foot of the hill, in a place called Greenside. The workshops were open to the inspection of pa.s.sers-by. Little boys looked in and saw the men at work amidst the blaze of fires and the beatings of hammers.

Amongst others, I was an ardent admirer. I may almost say that this row of busy workshops was my first school of practical education.

I observed the mechanical manipulation of the men, their dexterous use of the hammer, the chisel, and the file; and I imbibed many lessons which afterwards proved of use to me. Then I had tools at home in my father's workshop. I tried to follow their methods; I became greatly interested in the use of tools and their appliances; I could make things for myself. In short, I became so skilled that the people about the house called me "a little Jack-of-all-trades."

While sitting on the gra.s.sy slopes of the Calton Hill I would often hear the chimes sounding from the grand old tower of St.Giles.

The cathedral lay on the other side of the valley which divides the Old Town from the New. The sounds came over the murmur of the traffic in the streets below.

The chime-bells were played every day from twelve till one--the old-fashioned dinner-hour of the citizens. The practice had been in existence for more than a hundred and fifty years. The pleasing effect of the merry airs, which came wafted tome by the warm summer breezes, made me long to see them as well as hear them.

[Image] Mural crown of St Giles', Edinburgh

My father was always anxious to give pleasure to his children.

Accordingly, he took me one day, as a special treat, to the top of the grand old tower, to see the chimes played. As we pa.s.sed up the tower, a strong vaulted room was pointed out to me, where the witches used to be imprisoned. I was told that the poor old women were often taken down from this dark vault to be burnt alive! Such terrible tales enveloped the tower with a horrible fascination to my young mind.

What a fearful contrast to the merry sound of the chimes issuing from its roof on a bright summer day.

On my way up to the top flat, where the chimes were played, I had to pa.s.s through the vault in which the great pendulum was slowly swinging in its ghostly-like tick-tack, tick-tack; while the great ancient clock was keeping time with its sudden and startling movement. The whole scene was almost as uncanny as the witches' cell underneath. There was also a wild rumbling thumping sound overhead. I soon discovered the cause of this, when I entered the flat where the musician was at work.

He was seen in violent action, beating or hammering on the keys of a gigantic pianoforte-like apparatus. The instruments he used were two great leather-faced mallets, one of which he held in each hand.

Each key was connected by iron rods with the chime-bells above.

The frantic and mad-like movements of the musician, as he energetically rushed from one key to another, often widely apart gave me the idea that the man was daft--especially as the noise of the mallets was such that I heard no music emitted from the chimes so far overhead.

It was only when I had climbed up the stair of the tower to where the bells were rung that I understood the performance, and comprehended the beating of the chimes which gave me so much pleasure when I heard them at a distance.

Another source of enjoyment in my early days was to accompany my mother to the market. As I have said before, my mother, though generous in her hospitality, was necessarily thrifty and economical in the management of her household. There were no less than fourteen persons in the house to be fed, and this required a good deal of marketing.

At the time I refer to, (about 1816, it was the practice of every lady who took pride in managing economically the home department of her husband's affairs, to go to market in person. The princ.i.p.al markets in Edinburgh were then situated in the valley between the Old and New Towns, in what used to be called the Nor Loch.

Dealers in fish and vegetables had their stalls there: the market for butcher meat was near at hand: each being in their several locations.

It was a very lively and bustling sight to see the marketing going on.

When a lady was observed approaching, likely to be a customer, she was at once surrounded by the "caddies." They were a set of st.u.r.dy hard-working women, each with a creel on her back. Their compet.i.tion for the employer sometimes took a rather energetic form. The rival candidates pointed to her with violent exclamations; "She's my ledie!

she's my ledie!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed one and all. To dispel the disorder, a selection of one of the caddies would be made, and then all was quiet again until another customer appeared.

There was a regular order in which the purchases were deposited in the creel. First, there came the fish, which were carefully deposited in the lowest part, with a clean deal board over them. The fishwives were a most st.u.r.dy and independent cla.s.s, both in manners and language.

When at home, at Newhaven or Fisherrow, they made and mended their husbands' nets, put their fishing tackle to rights, and when the fishing boats came in they took the fish to market at Edinburgh.

To see the groups of these hard-working women trudging along with their heavy creels on their backs, clothed in their remarkable costume, with their striped petticoats kilted up and showing their st.u.r.dy legs, was indeed a remarkable sight. They were cheerful and good-natured, but very outspoken. Their skins were clear and ruddy, and many of the young fishwives were handsome and pretty. They were, in fact, the incarnation of robust health. In dealing with them at the Fish Market there was a good deal of higgling. They often asked two or three times more than the fish were worth--at least, according to the then market price. After a stormy night, during which the husbands and sons had toiled to catch the fish, on the usual question being asked, "Weel, Janet, hoo's haddies the day!" "Haddies, mem? Ou, haddies is men's lives the day!" which was often true, as haddocks were often caught at the risk of their husbands' lives. After the usual amount of higgling, the haddies were brought down to their proper market price, --sometimes a penny for a good haddock, or, when herrings were rife, a dozen herrings for twopence, crabs for a penny, and lobsters for threepence. For there were no railways then to convey the fish to England, and thus equalise the price for all cla.s.ses of the community.

Let me mention here a controversy between a fishwife and a buyer called Thomson. the buyer offered a price so ridiculously small for a parcel of fish that the seller became quite indignant, and she terminated at once all further higgling. Looking up to him, she said, "Lord help yer e'e-sight, Maister Tamson!" "Lord help my e'e-sight, woman! What has that to do with it?" "Ou," said she, "because ye ha'e nae nose to put spectacles on!" As it happened, poor Mr. Thomson had, by some accident or disease, so little of a nose left, if any at all, that the bridge of the nose for holding up the spectacles was almost entirely wanting.

And thus did the fishwife retaliate on her n.i.g.g.ardly customer.

When my mother had got her fish laid at the bottom of the creel, she next went to the "flesher" for her butcher-meat. There was no higgling here, for the meat was sold at the ordinary market price. Then came the poultry stratum; then the vegetables, or fruits in their season; and, finally, there was "the floore"--a bunch of flowers; not a costly bouquet, but a, large a.s.sortment of wallflowers, daffodils (with their early spring fragrance), polyanthuses, lilacs, gilly-flowers, and the glorious old-fashioned cabbage rose, as well as the even more gloriously fragrant moss rose. The caddy's creel was then topped up, and the marketing was completed. The lady was followed home; the contents were placed in the larder; and the flowers distributed all over the house.

I have many curious traditional evidences of the great fondness for cats which distinguished the Nasmyth family for several generations.

My father had always one or two of such domestic favourites, who were, in the best sense, his "familiars." Their quiet, companionable habits rendered them very acceptable company when engaged in his artistic work. I know of no sound so pleasantly tranquillising as the purring of a cat, or of anything more worthy of admiration in animal habit as the neat, compact, and elegant manner in which the cat adjusts itself at the fireside, or in a snug, cosy place, when it settles down for a long quiet sleep. Every spare moment that a cat has before lying down to rest is occupied in carefully cleaning itself, even under adverse circ.u.mstances. The cat is the true original inventor of a sanitary process, which has lately been patented and paraded before the public as a sanitary novelty; and yet it has been in practice ever since cats were created. Would that men and women were more alive to habitual cleanliness--even the cleanliness of cats. The kindly and gentle animal gives us all a lesson in these respects.

Then, nothing can be more beautiful in animal action than the exquisitely precise and graceful manner in which the cat exerts the exact amount of effort requisite to land it at the height and spot it wishes to reach at one bound. The neat and delicately precise manner in which cats use their paws when playing with those who habitually treat them with gentle kindness is truly admirable. In these respects cats are ent.i.tled to the most kindly regard. There are, unfortunately, many who entertain a strong prejudice against this most perfect and beautiful member of the animal creation, and who abuse them because they resist ill-treatment, occasioned by their innate feeling of independence. Cats have no doubt less personal attachment than dogs, but when kindly treated they become in many respects attached and affectionate animals.

My father, when a boy, made occasional visits to Hamilton, in the West of Scotland, where the descendants of his Covenanting ancestors still lived. One of them was an old bachelor--a recluse sort of man; and yet he had the Nasmyth love of cats. Being of pious pedigree and habits, he always ended the day by a long and audible prayer.

My father and his companions used to go to the door of his house to listen to him, but especially to hear his culminating finale.

He prayed that the Lord would help him to forgive his enemies and all those who had done him injury; and then, with a loud burst, he concluded, "Except John Anderson o' the Toonhead, for he killed my cat, and him I'll ne'er forgie! In conclusion, I may again refer to Elspeth Nasmyth, who was burnt alive for witchcraft, because she had four black cats, and read her Bible through two Pairs of spectacles!

CHAPTER 5. My School-days.

Before I went to school it was my good fortune to be placed under the special care of my eldest sister, Jane. She was twenty years older than myself, and had acquired much practical experience in the management of the younger members of the family. I could not have had a more careful teacher. She initiated me into the difficulties of A B C, and by learning me to read she gave me a key to the thoughts of the greatest thinkers who have ever lived.

But all this was accomplished at first in a humdrum and tentative way.

About seventy years ago children's books were very uninteresting.

In the little stories manufactured for children, the good boy ended in a Coach-and-four, and the bad boy in a ride to Tyburn. The good boys must have been a set of little sn.o.bs and prigs, and I could scarcely imagine that they could ever have lived as they were represented in these goody books. If so, they must have been the most tiresome and uninteresting vermin that can possibly be imagined. After my sister had done what she could for me, I was sent to school to learn "English."

I was placed under the tuition of a leading teacher called Knight, whose school-room was in the upper storey of a house in George Street.

Here I learned to read with ease. But my primitive habit of spelling by ear, in accordance with the simple sound of the letters of the alphabet (phonetically, so to speak) brought me into collision with my teacher. I got many a cuff on the side of the head, and many a "palmy" on my hands with a thick strap of hard leather, which did not give me very inviting views as to the pleasures of learning.

The master was vicious and vindictive. I think it a cowardly way to deal with a little boy in so cruel a manner, and to send him home with his back and fingers tingling and sometimes bleeding, because he cannot learn so quickly as his fellows.

On one occasion Knight got out of temper with my stupidity or dulness in not comprehending something about 'a preter-pluperfect tense,' or some mystery of that sort. He seized me by the ears, and beat my head against the wall behind me with such savage violence that when he let me go, stunned and unable to stand, I fell forward on the floor bleeding violently at the nose, and with a terrific headache.

The wretch might have ruined my brain for life. I was carried home and put to bed, where I lay helpless for more than a week. My father threatened to summon the teacher before the magistrates for what might have been a fatal a.s.sault on poor little me; but on making a humble apology for his brutal usage he was let off. Of course I was not sent back to his school. I have ever since entertained a hatred against grammatical rules.

There was at that time an excellent system of teaching young folks the value of thrift. This consisted in saving for some purpose or another the Sat.u.r.days penny--one penny being our weekly allowance of pocket-money. The feats we could perform in the way of procuring toys, picture-books, or the materials for constructing flying kites, would amaze the youngsters of the present day, who are generally spoiled by extravagance. And yet we obtained far more pleasure from our purchases. We had in my time "penny pigs," or thrift boxes.

They were made in a vase form, of brown glazed earthenware, the only entrance to which was a slit--enough to give entrance to a penny.

When the Sat.u.r.day's penny was not required for any immediate purposes, it was dropped through the slit, and remained there until the box was full. The maximum of pennies it could contain was about forty-eight.

When that was accomplished, the penny pig was broken with a hammer, and its rich contents flowed forth. The breaking of the pig was quite an event. The fine fat old George the Third penny pieces looked thoroughly substantial in our eyes. And then there was the spending of the money,--for some long-looked-for toy, or pencils, or book, or painting materials.

One of the ways in which I used my Sat.u.r.day pennies was in going with some of my companions into the country to have a picnic. We used to light a fire behind a hedge or a d.y.k.e, or in the corner of some ruin, and there roast our potatoes, or broil a red herring on an extempore gridiron we contrived for the purpose. We lit the fire by means of a flint and steel and a tinder-box, which in those days every boy used to possess. The bramble-berries gave us our dessert. We thoroughly enjoyed these glorious Sat.u.r.day afternoons. It gave us quite a Robinson Crusoe sort of feeling to be thus secluded from the world.

Then the beauty of the scenery amidst which we took our repast was such as I cannot attempt to describe. A walk of an hour or so would bring us into the presence of an old castle, or amongst the rocky furze and heather-clad hills, amidst clear rapid streams, so that, but for the distant peeps of the city, one might think that he was far from the busy haunts of men and boys.

To return to my school-days. Shortly after I left the school in George Street, where the schoolmaster had almost split my skull in battering it upon the wall behind me, I was entered as a pupil at the Edinburgh High School, in October 1817. The school was situated near the old Infirmary. Professor Pillans was the rector, and under him were four masters. I was set to study Latin under Mr. Irvine. He was a mere schoolmaster in the narrowest sense of the term. He was not endowed with the best of tempers, and it was often put to the breaking strain by the tricks and negligence of the lower-form portion of his cla.s.s. It consisted of nearly two hundred boys; the other three masters had about the same number of scholars.

They each had a separate cla.s.s-room.

I began to learn the elementary rudiments of Latin grammar. But not having any natural apt.i.tude for aquiring cla.s.sic learning so called, I fear I made but little progress during the three years that I remained at the High School. Had the master explained to us how nearly allied many of the Latin and Greek roots were to our familiar English words, I feel a.s.sured that so interesting and valuable a department of instruction would not have been neglected. But our memories were strained by being made to say off "by heart," as it was absurdly called, whole batches of grammatical rules, with all the botheration of irregular verbs and suchlike. So far as I was concerned, I derived little benefit from my High School teaching, except that I derived one lesson which is of great use in after life.

I mean as regards the performance of duty. I did my tasks punctually and cheerfully, though they were far from agreeable. This is an exercise in early life that is very useful in later years.

In my walks to and from the High School, the usual way was along the North and South Bridges,--the first over the Nor' Loch, now the railway station, and the second over the Cowgate. That was the main street between the Old Town and the New. But there were numerous wynds and closes (as the narrow streets are called) which led down from the High Street and the upper part of the Canongate to the High School, through which I often preferred to wander. So long as Old Edinburgh was confined within its walls the n.o.bles lived in those narrow streets; and the Old houses are full of historical incident.

My father often pointed out these houses to me, and I loved to keep up my recollections. I must have had a little of the antiquarian spirit even then. I got to know the most remarkable of those ancient houses--many of which were distinguished by the inscriptions on the lintel of the entrance, as well as the arms of the former possessors.

Some had mottoes such as this: "BLESIT BE G.o.d AND HYS GIFTIS. 1584."

There was often a tower-shaped projection from the main front of the house, up which a spiral stair proceeded.

This is usually a feature in old Scotch buildings. But in these closes the entrance to the houses was through a ponderous door, studded with great broad-headed nails, with loopholes at each side of the door, as if to present the strongest possible resistance to any attempt at forcible entrance. Indeed, in the old times before the Union the n.o.bles were often as strong as the King, and many a time the High Street was reddened by the blood of the n.o.blest and bravest of the land.

In 1588 there was a cry of "A Naesmyth," "A Scott," in the High Street.

It was followed by a clash of arms, and two of Sir Michael Naesmyth's sons were killed in that b.l.o.o.d.y feud. Edinburgh was often the scene of such disasters. Hence the strengthening of their houses, so as to resist the inroads of feudal enemies.

[Image] Doorhead, from an old mansion

The mason-work of the doors was executed with great care and dexterity.

It was chamfered at the edges in a bold manner, and ornamented with an O.G. bordering, which had a fine effect while it rendered the entrance more pleasant by the absence of sharp angles. The same style of ornamentation was generally found round the edges of the stone-work of the windows, most commonly by chamfering off the square angle of the stone-work. This not only added a grim grace to the appearance of the windows, but allowed a more free entrance of light into the apartments, while it permitted the inmates to have a better ranged view up and down the Close. These gloomy-looking mansions were grim in a terrible sense, and they reminded one of the fearful transactions of "the good old times!"