• ■■ 1 I 1 1 .uUMm.. u aass_: Book THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, Engraved fa/ JT.Rob insert. Sv§ o^a^ Died Ib^ Sep 1 1827 aged 23. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK AUTHOR OF " THE COURSE OF TIME." BY HIS BROTHER DAVID POLLOK A.M. WITH SELECTIONS FROM HIS MANUSCRIPTS. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, EDINBURGH AND LONDON. M.DCCC.XLIII. EDINBURGH: PBINTED BY BALLAXTYNE AND HUGHES, PAUL'S WORK, CANONGATE. Gift. MR. HUTCHESON. f?Je'05 CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. His Birth, Parentage, and Boyhood — Early development of Charac- ter — Education — First attempts at Rhyme — Resolves on Studying for the Ministry — Commencement of his Classical Education — First Poet- ical Productions — Residence at Horsehill — Progress in Latin — Personal Appearance. Page 1. CHAPTER II. His First Session at College — Classes attended during it — College Exercises in Verse — Commencement of Acquaintance with Robert Poliok of Buckhaven — And with David Marr — His Employments during the Vacation — Continuation of College Life — Ode to Moor- house — Favourite Haunts there — His Note-Book — Third Session — Let- ter to his Cousin — Descriptive Essay — First Prize — Acquires the French Language 23. CHAPTER III. State of his Health — Visit to Dublin — Letters to his brother — Ex- tracts from his Commonplace Book — Essay on the External Senses — His Juvenile Poetry — Fourth Session at College — First Year at the Moral Philosophy Class^Translation of the CEdipus — Address for a Missionary Society. . 46. CHAPTER IV. " Discussion on Compositional Thinking " — Letters to his Brother — And to his Cousin — Death of his Uncle — And Letters regarding it. 76. CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. Last Session at College — His Assiduity and Perseverance — Monody on the Death of a Classfellow — Lines to Envy— Literary Society, and Essay read before it — Takes his Degree of Master of Arts — Extracts from his Papers — His Social Habits in Glasgow. . . Page 97 CHAPTER VI. Letter to his Brother after leaving College— Commences the Study of Theology — Writes his First Sermon — Letter to David Marr — Thoughts on Man in Verse— Letter to Robert Pollok, on taking his Degree of A.M.— Address for a Bible Society. . . . 132. CHAPTER VII. Joins the Fellowship of the Church — First Session at the Divinity Hall — His First Discourse there — Its Reception by the Students — Letter from Mr Williamson regarding him — " The British Poets" — Milton— Singular Dream—" Helen of the Glen "—His Facility of Com- position — Serves in the Renfrewshire Yeomanry — His Discourses at the Hall — Address on Preaching — Publication of " Helen of the Glen." 190. CHAPTER VIII. Letter to his Brother — Visit to Auchindinny — And to Bullion Green, &c. — Letters from Edinburgh — And after his Return to Glasgow — " Ralph Gemmell " and " The Persecuted Family " — His sudden Illness, and Letters regarding it — Lines on his Sister's Death — Letters regard- ing the Publication of his Two Tales — Employments at Moorhouse — Visit to Girvan — Letter from Pollok of Buckhaven regarding him — And from Himself to his Brother — Returns to the Hall — His Discourse there — Criticism on it by Dr Ferrier — Enters the Divinity Hall of Glas- gow University — Publication of his Tales 215. CHAPTER IX. Autobiographical Letter— Letters to his Brother— Meditates and commences " The Course of Time " — Letters on his Mother's last Illness and Death— Progress of his Poem— His Fourth Session at the Hall- Visit to Loch Lomond— Letters to his Brother. . . 252. CONTENTS. iii CHAPTER X. Again Vists Auchindinny— Letters relating to " The Course of Time " —Its Completion, and Letter Announcing it— His Mode of Composition —His other Occasional Poetry — Extracts from his Commonplace Book —Notes for "The Course of Time"— His Fifth Session at the Hall- Letter from Dr King regarding him — Sermons — His Habits. Page 283. CHAPTER XI. Leaves the Hall — Visit to Dunfermline — Transcription of his Poem for the Press — Letter to his Father — Enters on Trials for License — Letter to Mr Blackwood — The Publication agreed on — Introduction to Professor Wilson — Letters to his Father — Projected Prose Work — Publication of " The Course*of Time " — The Manuscripts of it — His Trial Discourses — Letter to his Pather — " Serious Thought." . 312. CHAPTER XII. His first Public Sermon — Visit to Slateford — Preaches there — Letter to his Pather — His Last Sermon — Letters — Commencement of his Ill- ness — Letters to his Father regarding it — Proposal for his going to Italy — Voyage to Aberdeen — Letters from thence — Returns to Edin- burgh — Letter from thence to his Father — His Last Visit to Moor- house — Trust-deed— Letter to Miss Mather — Charge regarding his Manuscripts 333. CHAPTER XIII. His Departure from Moorhouse — His Parting with his Father and Brother — Letter from Dr King regarding him — And from the Students of the Divinity Hall to him — Arrival at Edinburgh — Portrait of him — Goes to Slateford — Letter from Pollok of Buckhaven — Last Correc- tions of " The Course of Time " — Returns to Edinburgh — Attentions of Sir John Sinclair to him — His Will — Letters of introduction for London and Italy — His Departure for London — The Voyage — His Arrival there — Last Letter to his Brother — Secures his Passage to Leghorn — Letters to the Theological Students — To his Father — And to Dr Bel- frage — Is Dissuaded from going to Italy 361. CHAPTER XIV. Leaves London for Southampton — His Increasing Weakness — Medi- cal Attendants — Visitors — Becomes aware of the hopelessness of Reco- IV CONTENTS. very— Last Letter to his Father— State of his Mind— His Last Hours- Death and Burial — Letter from Dr Brown to Mr Pirie — From Mr Pirie to his Sister — And from Dr Brown to his Father — Letters to his Father regarding him— His Monument— His Manuscripts, Page 385. POEMS. Ode to Moorhouse — A Hymn — David's Lamentation over Saul and Jonathan — Christ's Resurrection — The Distressed] Christian to his Soul — A Tale — Spring Returned — Jane — The Weeping Maid — To Agnes — To Mr David Marr and Friends — On Receiving the Works of Spencer — The African Maid — Helen's Grave — The Crow Stone — Mal- lena — Old Age — To Darkness — To Melancholy — To Agnella — The Child — Invitation — Liberty, a Fragment 405. THE LIFE ROBERT POLLOK, A.M. CHAPTER I. Robert Pollok was born on Friday, the 19th day of October 1798, at North Moorhouse, in the parish of Eagles- ham, in Renfrewshire, ten miles south from Glasgow. His father, John Pollok, was a farmer, first at North, and then at Mid, Moorhouse ; where his father and grandfather were farmers before him. His mother, Margaret Dickie, was a daughter of James Dickie and Margaret Gemmell of Horsehill, a small farm in the parish of Fenwick in Ayrshire. Three of her ma- -, ternal ancestry shared in the sufferings of the persecution in Scotland between 1660 and 1688. Her great-grandfather, David Gemmell of Horsehill,* escaped pursuit by fleeing to * The name of this family was Gemmell from an early period down to the middle of last century, when it hecame Dickie by the marriage of James Dickie and Margaret Gemmell. A 2 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Ireland, and remaining there in exile for three years, du- ring which his land was confiscated ; John Gemmell, second brother to the former, was in 1685 sent in banishment to the island of Barbadoes, where he was held in slavery till the Revolution ; and Peter Gemmell, his youngest brother, was the same year apprehended by a troop of dragoons, and instantly shot.* Robert's grandfathers and grandmothers became Seceders at the commencement of the Secession from the Church of Scotland, in their respective counties, Renfrew and Ayr. His father and mother were both brought up Seceders, the one in the first Secession congregation in Renfrewshire, and the other in the first in Ayrshire. They were married in May 1780, and continued steadfast to their religious profes- sion, in doctrine, duty, and discipline ; living in observance of the ordinances of religion, and in all respects setting a Christian example. They had an inclination for reading and acquiring knowledge, and were reputed intelligent for their sphere. In personal character, his father had a good deal of calmness, self-possession, and equanimity; and his mother was distinguished by decision, promptitude, and resolution. With respect to their station and circumstances in life, they belonged to the class of small farmers ; and were what is usually called comfortable, but not wealthy. They had eight children, four sons and four daughters ; and of these eight, only four of whom are now alive, Robert, the subject of this narrative, was the youngest but one. Inheriting from his parents a sound constitution, bodily and mental, he was a fine, strong, lively infant. He was baptized when a few weeks old, in the Secession church * See Scots "Worthies, Life of Nisbet of Hardhill.— Note. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 3 at Newton of Mearns, by the Rev. Andrew Thomson, his father's minister. He walked early, and spoke distinctly at a twelvemonth old. In his childhood, he was full of wit and humour ; and was noted especially for restless activity. His grand distinguishing characteristic, decision, united with resistless determination to gain his end, appeared early. I well recollect of him, when he was a child in petticoats, after he had got his first boy's dress, but before he was al- lowed to wear it daily, going up to his mother one day, when she was sewing in the kitchen, and saying to her, as he took his stand by her side, " Mother, I should get on my other clothes now." " You will get them on," she replied, in a tone of authority, raising her voice as she spoke, with- out looking at him — " you will get them on when these ones are done." The moment she said so, he left her side, without speaking a word, and walked straight into the room. In a few minutes, he came back slowly through the kitchen, and went out at the door, with his petticoat torn into a long narrow strip, winding out after him like a serpent.. Thus his end was gained: the petticoat was done, and the " other clothes " had to be " got on." Throughout life, it may be added, the same decision of character distinguished him. Whenever he was pushed, or in difficulty, he took high ground, and had recourse to deci- sive measures. Indeed, the child was the perfect miniature of the man; almost every thing that was ever developed in the man, being indicated more or less distinctly in the child. In his childhood, he was remarkably amiable, attractive, and engaging, and was thus a favourite with the whole family. He and I, it may be mentioned, as of some interest 4: THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. now that I am his biographer, being next to one another in the family, were constant bedfellows and playfellows, and a companionship stronger than brotherhood was early formed between us, which grew closer and closer through life : " the soul of " the one " was knit with the soul of " the other, and each "loved" the other "as his own soul." The following instance of his affectionate disposition, in childhood, may be given. In the end of April 1802, when he was in his fifth year, his brother Andrew, the last child of his father and mother, was born ; and, from the time of his birth, he showed great fondness for him, and would have given him his playthings and all that he had. As Andrew grew older, his affection for him increased. In the begin- ning of December 1804, when he was in his seventh year, Andrew got cold, took ill, and died, at the age of two years and seven months ; and Robert was so affected by his death, that he cried bitterly for a whole day after it, and could not be stopped or soothed. He then became dull, and would not go out of the house, so that it was thought he would kill himself with grief ; and it was some weeks before he re- gained his activity and playfulness. At Whitsunday 1805, his father removed to Mid Moor- house : and one of the first things to be taken notice of in the formation of Robert's character and the development of his mind, is the situation of this place ; which, being his home from the middle of his seventh year, may be regarded as his native place. Mid Moorhouse, which is said to have been built before the Battle of Bannockburn, is situated about a quarter of a mile to the south-east of North Moorhouse ; and was adorned in Robert's time with eight old trees, four of which — " three THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 5 ash, and one of elm " — were " tall " as well as old.* It stands on an open, elevated, hilly country, diversified with moor and dale, and surrounded, in the distance, with lofty mountains. The view from the house and different parts of the farm — which, notwithstanding 1 its name, contains no moors, hut is all either arable or meadow ground — is extensive, varied, and magnificent. It is terminated on the east and south by va- rious hills and moorland heights, from a mile to three miles distant ; and, from the west round to the north-east, along an outline of bold mountains, it varies in range from forty to eighty or ninety miles ; and within that range, the whole face of the country is undulating and picturesque. But the prospect from some of its neighbouring heights. which Robert, from his childhood, often visited, is much more extensive, and is still more varied and magnificent. The principal of these heights, and one which comprehends the view from all the rest, is Balagich, the highest hill in the upper part of Renfrewshire. It lies nearly a mile and a half to the south of Moorhouse, and rises a thousand feet above the level of the sea. The prospect from it varies in range from forty to ninety or a hundred miles ; and the circum- ference of it, which cannot be less than three or four hun- dred, consists of lofty mountains. To the east, over exten- sive tracts of moors, rises Tinto ; and beyond it, appear, in the distance, Walston Mount, Culter Fell, and Cardon. On the south-east and south, a vast moor, memorable for the meetings, and hallowed by the graves, of martyrs, stretches * The elm was, some years ago, broken down by wind, within a few yards of the ground ; but a number of shoots have sprung from the bottom of the old stem, one of which bids fair to be a tall tree : the ash trees are Still standing. 6 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. out to Wardlaw and Cairntable, Black Craig, Windy Stan- dard, Cairnsmore of Carsphairn, and the Buchan Hills in Galloway. South-west and west, the view expands over the green hills of Carrick, the grassy plains of Kyle and Cun- niogham, and the spreading waters of the Frith of Clyde, to Ailsa- Craig, Arran, and the Peaks of Jura. On the north- west, and round to the north-east, the rich pastoral and arable lands of Renfrew and Lanarkshire slope gently down to the fertile vale of the Clyde, opening below the eye like a vast basin, in which are seen Paisley and Glasgow with their numerous suburbs ; and from which the face of the country rises irregularly — sometimes gradually, sometimes abruptly — to Ben Cruachan, Ben Lomond, Ben Ledi, Ben- voirlich, Uam-var, and the Ochil Hills. Such is the place where Robert was brought up : and there can be no doubt, that the nature of the surrounding country entered largely into the formation of his character, and the development of his mind — that it greatly contributed to the boldness, energy, and variety of the one, as well as to the purity, elevation, and comprehensiveness of the other. It was impossible for a mind like his to contemplate such a scene as that around Moorhouse, without being deeply inspired with the spirit of freedom, and strongly impressed with ideas of vastness and magnificence. Robert received the rudiments of his education at home ; and his mother, to whom, in common with the whole family, he owed much, was his first teacher. By her he was taught to read the Bible, and made to commit to memory the Shorter Catechism, with part of the Psalms of David. He was thus early initiated in the Christian religion, was taught " the first principles of the oracles of God ; " and was, at the same time, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 7 inspired with an ardent zeal for civil and religious liberty. " From a child," like Timothy, he knew, " the Holy Scrip- tures." He was " trained up in the way in which he should go ; " he was brought " up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord;" and, like Obadiah, he "feared the Lord from his youth." His early education, which was partly at South Longlee, a farm house in the neighbourhood of his father's, but chiefly at Mearns parish school, under the tuition of Mr Andrew Jackson, was confined to English reading, writing, and arith- metic, with little or no grammar, or, at least, as good as none. It continued from his eighth till his fifteenth year ; but was often interrupted, especially in summer, when he was employed in various agricultural operations. At school, he was diligent at his lessons, and kept high up in his classes ; made rapid progress in his education, and was seldom, if ever, punished. Robert grew up a well-formed, healthy, good-looking boy, of an ordinary size for his age, white and ruddy in com- plexion, with dark hair, and keen dark eyes; strong and en- ergetic, and his bodily strength and mental energies became every day more and more conspicuous. He was restlessly active ; but, from his training, never mischievous. Whenever his tasks were over, he went to play, and engaged in it with his whole soul. He was the life and spirit of all field-games among his school-fellows ; and, from his temper, strength, and agility, it may be said he excelled in all of them. His fortitude and intrepidity were, perhaps, always equal to his decision. " One thing," said an intimate friend of his, in speaking to me of writing his Life, " must be prominently brought out in drawing his character — his perfect fear- 8 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. lessness." But he was neither insensible nor incautious of danger. His fearlessness was not rashness, but an act of reason : it was, knowledge, resolution, and consciousness of power. At Longlee school, in taking a part in the field-games which were practised there among the scholars, Robert's at- tention was first turned to character, and his talent for dis- criminating it first elicited. While these were going on, he observed the boys attentively ; compared their abilities, dis- positions, habits, and tendencies ; marked the differences of one from another ; and formed his opinion of each of them : so that he knew them all, and could readily tell their respec- tive characteristics. But, alas ! in one of these games, he engaged, at last, too keenly. Being pursued by a strong swift boy, nearly three years older than himself, and being determined not to be caught, he ran on till his strength was almost worn out. At length, he came to a rivulet that passes Longlee house, when he had just as much strength left as to leap over it* On crossing the stream, thinking the boy who ehased him would surely not pass it, he stood still and looked round ; and his pursuer, who was close behind him, threw himself down, exhausted, on the other side. Unhappily, by this running, he raised a pain in his right side and in the centre of his chest ; which, though slightly felt at first, and for a good while after scarcely felt at all, never fairly left him, but troubled him, less or more, all the rest of his life ; and, at last, in combination, first with violent bodily labour, and then with severe mental exertion, " took him away in the midst of his days ; " or rather, " in the be- ginning of his way." Immediately after this running, he lost THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 9 his white and ruddy complexion, for which he was before re- markable, and became pale. Throughout his childhood and boyhood, he was exceedingly sensitive, and could not bear at all to be laughed at. Not- withstanding, it was difficult to anger him ; but when he was once roused to passion, he became violent and quite irresist- ible. It would not do to meddle with him, or at least to use him ill. When he was about fourteen years of age, he began, along with his cousin and constant companion, Robert Pollok, North Moorhouse, to learn to use a gun ; and, it may be added, that, from that time, he practised shooting, now and then, till he reached his twenty-fourth year. In the summer of 1813, when he was in his fifteenth year, it happened that I brought a copy of Taylor's Stenography to the house ; and he learned from it to write short-hand ; but he did not continue to practise it. About his fifteenth year, a happy change took place in his character, in one particular. From that time forward, he was no longer violent in his anger, but was remarkable for command of temper ; and, though he might become indig- nant, he was always calm, collected, and self-possessed. I observed the change when it took place, but did not then speak of it to him. At length, having occasion to refer to it, some years after he reached manhood, I asked him what produced it ; and he said, it was reading the Gospels. In perusing them for himself, when he was about fifteen years of age, he was struck with the meekness or calm dignity of the Saviour under provocation; 'and he resolved thenceforward to command his temper. Since that time, he added, " though I 10 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. may feel and express righteous indignation, nothing ever puts me into a passion." During the summer of 1814, when he was in his sixteenth year, he began letter-writing. It happened that I passed that summer with our maternal relations at Horsehill ; and he took occasion to write to me, twice or thrice, in the course of it. All that I now remember of his letters, none of which were preserved, is, that one of them was written partly in short-hand. In the spring of that year, his youngest sister, Janet, was married to Mr David Young, a cabinet-maker, at Barrhead ; and shortly after her marriage, his brother-in-law, who was fond of him, and thought him clever, but knew nothing of his inclinations and feelings, recommended to him his own trade of cabinet-making, and wished him to go to Barrhead, and try it for a short time, to see if he would like it. Partly in compliance with the wish of Mr Young, and partly from curiosity, he went there the following spring, and made trial of it; but he did not like it, and soon returned to Moor- house. On his return, he said to me, " Well, I have tried the cabinet-making, and have made four chairs ; but it will not do." It did well enough, he said, for the first three chairs, for he wanted to know how to make them, and to be quick in making them ; but the fourth he made without thinking: and he gave it up for ever, determined to do some- thing else, In April, the same spring, an event took place which made a strong and lasting impression on his mind, deepened his natural thoughtfulness, and was afterwards turned by him to some account. This was the death, at Barrhead, of his THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 11 sister, Mrs Young, who was a great favourite with him, as well as with all her relations and friends. On the 9th of April, she was delivered of a daughter ; and on the 17th of the same month she died. Robert was present; and nine years afterwards he produced an affecting description of her death-bed scene, when it was still fresh in his memory. This description forms the passage relative to the mother dying in child-bed, in the fifth Book of " The Course of Time," and it seems proper to quote it here. " Our sighs were numerous, and profuse our tears ; For she we lost was lovely, and we loved Her much : fresh in our memory, as fresh As yesterday, is yet the day she died. It was an April day ; and blithely all The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, And promised glorious manhood ; and our hearts Were glad, and round them danced the lightsome bloody In healthy merriment ; when tidings came A child was born ; and tidings came again, That she who gave it birth was sick to death — So swift trode Sorrow on the heels of Joy ! We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees In fervent supplication to the throne Of mercy ; and perfumed our prayers with sighs Sincere, and penitential tears, and looks Of self-abasement : but we sought to stay An angel on the earth, a spirit ripe For heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused — Most merciful, as oft, when seeming least ! Most gracious, when she seemed the most to frown ! The room I well remember, and the bed On which she lay, and all the faces too, That crowded dark and mournfully around. Her father there and mother, bending, stood, And down their aged cheeks fell many drops 12 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Of bitterness ; her husband, too, was there, And brothers, and they wept ; her sisters, too, Did weep and sorrow, comfortless ; and I, Too, wept, though not to weeping given ; and all Within the house was dolorous and sad. This I remember well ; but better still I do remember, and will ne'er forget, The dying eye ! — that eye alone was bright, And brighter grew, as nearer death approached : As I have seen the gentle little flower Look fairest in the silver beam which fell, Reflected from the thunder-cloud, that soon Came down, and o'er the desert, scattered, far And wide, its loveliness ! She made a sign To bring her babe — 'twas brought, and by her placed. She looked upon its face, that neither smiled Nor wept, nor knew who gazed thereon ; and laid Her hand upon its little breast, and sought For it, with look that seemed to penetrate The heavens, unutterable blessings, such As God to dying parents only granted, For infants left behind them in the world. * God keep my child !' we heard her say, and heard No more : the Angel of the Covenant Was come ; and faithful to his promise, stood, Prepared to walk with her through death's dark vale. And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still — Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused With many tears — and closed without a cloud. They set as sets the morning-star, which goes Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides, Obscured, among the tempests of the sky ; But melts away into the light of heaven." Robert, like the rest of the farmers' sons in the place where he was brought up, was bred to agricultural work. He wrought at it, occasionally, from his childhood up to his THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 13 fifteenth year ; and from that, regularly, till he completed his seventeenth. During this early period of his life, his reading was, partly from want of time, but chiefly from want of books, very limited. It was confined almost entirely to the Bible, the Confession of Faith, and Fisher's Catechism, Scots Worthies, Bailey's Dictionary, which he often consulted; Salmond's Gazetteer, the first volume of the Spectator, some of Burns' Poems, and Scott's Lessons ; from the last of which, I have heard him say, he first got a taste for solid writing and good composition. Notwithstanding, he was not ill-informed or unintelligent. He had a taste for reading, and often perused the few books to which he had access. In particular, he heard the Bible read daily at family worship, and was in the habit of reading it himself. He also regularly attended church, U where he heard, from time to time, many instructive sermons, from a number of excellent ministers : so that his theological knowledge embraced the principal facts and doctrines of the I Bible. From the conversation, too, of his father and mother, and that of some of their friends, he learned much on vari- ous subjects, but especially in regard to ecclesiastical history. Besides, being always observant, curious, and enquiring, and capable of generalizing and drawing conclusions, he learned much by his own observation respecting agriculture and the common affairs of life, the appearances of nature and natural objects, the dispositions and characters of men, and the in- stincts and habits of animals. Add to all this, that he was thoughtful and reflective, and had a good memory ; and that he not only attended to what he saw, heard, and read, but remembered it. On the whole, then, it may be said, that, in one way and another, he knew a great deal — far more 14 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. than might have been expected from his age and his circum- stances. The foundation of his future knowledge was laid, and all its essential elements were formed. As yet, though he had twice or thrice attempted rhyme, it could not he said that he had given any indication of a talent for poetry. Hearing it told of his eldest brother, James, who died in April 1803, in the twenty-second year of his age, that " he sometimes made poems," Robert and I thought that we might make them too ; and, from about his ninth or tenth year, we made together three stories in verse, two of them in the same measure as the Scotch metrical version of the Psalms of David, and one in the same as Burns' " Death and Dr Hornbook." In making them, which we did on our mind, committing them to memory as we went on, Robert was good at getting ideas, as we expressed it, but could do nothing at rhyming, and sometimes said to me, " I wonder how you can rhyme." But in these stories, or poems as we called them, there was no poetry, nor did we think that either of us would ever write it. Robert, however, had already formed the idea of writing something in prose, as he told me several years afterwards, and gave me an account of his forming it. He had heard, he said, the Spectator praised all his life for good writing. Happening one day, when about fifteen or sixteen years of age, on taking up an odd volume of it, which had been long in his father's^ to think he would look particularly into it to see what it was like, he took it away out to the fields, sat down, and read a paper of it with great care and attention. When he had done, he closed the book, saying, " I think I could write like that myself," and actually set to work imme- diately to compose a paper ; and, to his astonishment, found THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 15 he could write. From that time, he entertained the idea of becoming an author sooner or later. In the autumn of 1815, when he had completed his seven- teenth year, a great and memorable change took place in regard to his education, pursuits, and prospects. At that time, he and I met at Moorhouse, on my return to it after an absence of two or three months. At our meeting, Robert seemed thoughtful, and he spoke and laughed less than usual. Soon after it, we went out to the fields together ; and, on entering into conversation, we found, that, unknown to one another, we had both, for several years, but especially for the last two, often thought of giving up farming, and that we had, at length, both come to the same resolution — to study for the ministry of the gospel in the Secession Church.)/ In returning to the house, we agreed to go to Fenwick school to prepare for college, and stay at Horsehill, with David Dickie, our mother's eldest brother. Accordingly, in the end of November, having received the approval of our father and mother, we went to Horsehill, and on the 2d of December, entered vigorously on the study of Latin, at Fen- wick parish school, under the tuition of Mr John Fairlie ; whose care and patience in instructing us, were, it may be mentioned in gratitude, beyond any thing of the kind we ever saw in a teacher. In four weeks, we were through Mackay's Latin Rudi- ments, and had got our first lesson read out in Corderius, which we began to read on New Year's Day 1816 : and never shall I forget the bound of joy with which we left school, that, day, with our Corderies in our pocket, to go home to Moorhouse, to see our friends ; nor the look of satis- 16 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. faction with which our father and mother heard us read to- gether, at night, the first colloquy. During our continuance at school, which was, with some intermission, till the middle of July 1817, we read a good part of Corderius, the whole of Cornelius Nepos, most of the Commentaries of Caesar, and nearly the first three books of the iEneid of Virgil, parsing and construing as we went along. To every new lesson, from first to last, Robert sat down with great avidity, and he looked up words in the dictionary and rules in the grammar, with remarkable intentness and perseverance. All along, having paid great attention to translation, parsing, and construction, he made rapid pro- gress in the acquisition of the Latin language ; and, by the time he left school, his knowledge of it was accurate and considerably extensive. It may be added, as indicating the development of his mind, that, in reading the different authors, he often made remarks on their sentiments and expressions, especially when he met with any thing that had reference to character, or that was applicable to present times. His stay at Horsehill, besides being in itself a great con- venience with respect to his preparation for college, was at- tended with much advantage, and productive of important consequences. His uncle, David Dickie, with whom he lived there, was no ordinary man, either in talent or acquirement, or in the powers of communicating information. In him, Robert practically saw the advantage arising from knowledge, and from well-chosen and expressive language ; and he became THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 17 intent on acquiring the one and habituating himself to the use of the other. But this was not all. Hitherto, Robert had read little or no poetry, except selections in school-books ; and had seen none of the works of the British poets. But he now began his acquaintance with them. Soon after going to Horse- hill, he met, among his uncle's books, with two poetical works. One of these, and the first of them that he found, was Pope's " Essay on Man," He began to read it imme- diately ; and he recurred to it, from time to time, in the in- tervals of study, till he had gone through it again and again. He admired the rhyme and the versification ; and, in the spring of 1816, when he was in the middle of his eighteenth year, he wrote a short poem, as he entitled it, in the same kind of verse as that Essay ; and this was the first poetical piece that he ever composed. He had been home for a few days in April, that spring, assisting his father at farm- work ; and, on his way back, one evening, from Moorhouse to Horse- hill, a distance of eight miles, six of which I walked along with him, he composed the verses. Next day, he committed them to writing, and read them to me. I was struck, when- ever he began to read them, with their difference from the poems, as they were called, which he and I made together ; and, when he had done reading them, I said to him, " So you can rhyme now." " That is not much," he said, with a look of indifference. " It would be a pity, at any rate," said I, " if the one who can make that did not get a good education : " and from that time, having a new view of him, and new feel- ings towards him altogether, I looked up to him with a sort of prophetic deference. In a day or two after reading the poem to me, he wrote it B 18 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. carefully out in a plain, small, neat hand ; and, though ere- long, whatever might be his opinion of it at first, he thought it not worth preserving, and meant it to be destroyed, so that it was never corrected, it has happened to be preserved as he then wrote it. It extends to thirty-one couplets ; and, it seems proper, on account of the interest attached to it as his first poetical production, to insert the following parts of it here : "A POEM " ON PHILUS AND PHILLIS, TWO LOVERS. " It is from God we have our blessings here, And 'tis our duty to live in his fear. Give ear to me, tune up my weak-stringed lyre, And with immortal sense my heart inspire, To speak aright about this lovely pair, Like Celadon and his Amelia fair. Philus has features better-set than fine ; In Phillis grace and beauty rare combine. ***** At the first sight each other's hearts they gain, In amity united they remain. ***** On summer eves, when zephyrs cheer the plain, And waft the sailors o'er the flowing main, Away strays Philus glad to Phillis' bower, "Who ready waits to meet him at the hour. ***** No — in their converse no such stuff has place, But all their talk's of learning, love, and grace. ***** But Heaven, I hope, will soon the two make one, In Hymen's bands their course on earth to run. While Thou art pleased that they abide below, May blessings great of all kinds on them flow. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 19 When Death, the arch-foe, shall at last he sent, And bid them yield their life, from Thee but lent, Transport them hence to mansions high above, Where they'll be blest with an eternal love." Such is part of the first essay of his mind to go out on the world. There is in it no exercise of imagination — no de- parture from reality. The names of the lovers, indeed, are fictitious; but the lovers themselves were real characters, and all that is said of them was matter of fact. It indicates, however, the samo kind of mind that the author afterwards displayed ; and shows that, when he wrote it, he could think better than he could write ; or, as a college friend of his, Mr William Williamson, justly and expressively said of it, on hearing it read, " It shows that, when he wrote it, he was not beginning to think, but beginning to talk." The other poetical work which he met with at his uncle's, was one of very different moment, and his meeting with it was the most memorable event in his stay at Horsehill : it was Milton's " Paradise Lost." He found a copy of it, one day, among some old books, on the upper shelf of a wall- press in the kitchen, where it had lain neglected for years. Though he had never seen Paradise Lost before, he had often heard of it, and he began to read it immediately. He was captivated with it at the very first ; and after that, as long as he staid at Horsehill, he took it up whenever he had the least opportunity, and read with great eagerness. When he was leaving the place, his uncle, seeing him so fond of the book, gave it to him in a present; and from that time, Milton became his favourite author, and, I may say, next to the Bible, his chief companion. Henceforward, he read more or less of him almost every day, and used often to repeat 20 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. aloud, in bed, immediately before rising in the morning, what was his favourite passage in Paradise Lost — the apostrophe I to light in the beginning of the third Book. His reading of Paradise Lost, like his perusal of the Essay on Man, was not without immediate fruit. In the autumn of 1816, when he was home at Moorhouse, mowing hay, his brother John asked some poetry from him to insert in a letter to a friend ; and he wrote a short piece for him. This was his second poetical production, and his first in blank verse. On this last account, it is thought proper to intro- duce it here. It is as follows : "LINES TO LIZA. Written after her Tyrant Father had separated her for ever from Melvan's Adverse Fortune. " O sweetest, fairest of the fairest sex ! Virtue untainted dwells within thy breast. Too fair, too virtuous, if such things can be, Thou art ; for thou hast wounded me, who heretofore Was wounded never, with such darts of love. why wast thou formed So fair ? — if so, why from my eyes not hid ? Or rather why do I not thee possess ? Since wanting thee, unhappy — with thee, blest. Alas ! by fate, thou'rt to another doomed, To one, who, by some inward pravity, Is without happiness, and thou with him ; And I, for want of thee, unhappier. " Had I of life thy partner been ordained, We to such happiness had reached below, That thoughts had been by us of future bliss Neglected— our grand business in this world. Hence may we learn, that disappointments here, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 21 And every cross, are blessings — blessings such As from this grovelling waste, to heaven our thoughts Uplift, where happiness unmingled dwells. To heaven conformed be then our mundane track, That, at a future day, transporting thought ! Our Judge may be our Advocate : if so, For evermore, in realms of peaceful love, We our abode shall have ; where we'll enjoy Pleasures, abundant as is their Great Source, Endless as He who lives eternally." This piece, which his brother says " he wrote in a short time — off-hand — -just at once/' is wholly imaginary — a pure invention or poetical creation, not even founded on fact, so that it forms an interesting contrast to his first piece, written only three or four months before, and marks distinctly the progress of his mind from fact to fiction : it is the first trial of his invention — the first flight of his fancy. These two poetical works, which, with the Bible, were his principal English reading during his stay at Horsehill, never in the least diverted his attention from his Latin lessons, nor abated his ardour in the study of that language ; but, on the contrary, by showing him the advantages of learning, more closely fixed the one, and more keenly excited the other. At the same time, by introducing him, almost simultaneously, to two of the standard English writers in rhyme and blank verse, they produced in him a strong desire to read the rest of them. During the whole period of his stay at Horsehill, he regu- larly attended public worship in the Secession church, Clerk's Lane, Kilmarnock, where the Rev. John Ritchie, now in Edinburgh, was then minister ; and he thought him one of the most instructive and edifying preachers that he ever heard. In his nineteenth year he attained his full stature. He was 22 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. five feet nine inches in height, and his walk was erect and graceful. He had broad shoulders, and a full roomy chest ; and was symmetrical, firm, muscular, and strong for his size ; his head was small and well-formed, and his brow large in proportion ; he had plain brown-black hair, which never changed its colour from his infancy ; his eyes were black, and remarkably keen, expressive, and commanding ; his com- plexion was pale brown; his features were small and fine, and the expression of his countenance was open, bold, and manly ; his look was the look of penetration and intelligence, and his whole appearance indicative of energy and decision. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 23 CHAPTER II. In the month of July 1817, having attended Fen wick school about sixteen months, Robert left it and Horsehill together. From that time till near the end of October, he was engaged in harvest operations. The mowing of hay, this year and the one before, was, it may be mentioned in passing, the only thing in his life, as he told me towards the close of it, on which he could not look back without pain. Besides obstructing his preparation for college, and retarding his progress in literature, it greatly distressed him, and permanently aggravated the pains in his side and chest ; but there seemed then no help for it. In the beginning of November, when he had completed his nineteenth year, having finished the labours of harvest at Moorhouse, he and I entered the college of Glasgow toge- ther. We joined the senior side of the Latin class, under Professor Walker ; and the junior of the Greek, under Pro- fessor Young. To both of these classes Robert went always well prepared ; and, as he studied hard during the whole session, he made much progress in the acquisition of the languages taught in them. During the time that the Greek class was reading Ana* creon's Odes, he wrote a prose translation of them, which is 24 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. still preserved in his hand-writing in two small duodecimo volumes. In the course of the session, he produced a third piece of original poetry, and first tried his hand at poetical translation. Professor Walker requested his students to give him in volun- tary exercises in verse, either original, or translated from the Latin poets. When he received productions of this kind, which he reckoned good, he either read them to the class himself, or handed them to the writers to read. During the session, Robert gave him in three of these exercises — one original and two translations. None of the three was read to the class, and the first two were returned without any mark of notice whatever ; but, on the last one, there was written with pencil, by the Professor, " Some of these verses are very spi- rited." " Why then," said Robert, indignantly, the moment he saw the words, " why, then, not read them to the class ? " Nor did he soon forget the neglect — a neglect, however, which, as he owned, did him great good : it turned him away at the very outset of his classical curriculum, from a particu- lar to a general standard of excellence ; and determined him on ultimately appealing from a private to a public tribunal. From the day that he met with it, as he was then beginning to put some confidence in his poetical talents, he looked away beyond the partial, capricious, evanescent honours of a col- lege, to fairer as well as more lasting fame. Two of these exercises, the original one and the last of the translations, it is thought proper to insert here, as specimens of his proficiency in metrical composition, in his first session at college, and during the early part of his twentieth year. They are as follow : THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 25 « ODE TO THE SUN. " Hail, thou immortal source of light ! At thy approach, the gloomy night, Ashamed, shrinks from thy ray ; The moon, submissive, disappears, And all the planets, in their spheres, Are lost in whiter day. The lion quits the brightening plain, And all the nightly-prowling train Now fear the blood they've spilt ; Rebellion, riot, wild misrule, Night's progeny, of mischief full, Fly, conscious of their guilt. Hark ! how the grateful sons of day Extol the penetrating ray That banishes their dread : In tuneful notes, the feathered throng Melodious pour the early song, And every leaf is glad. The bleating flocks, the lowing kine, In rougher notes the concert join, As gaily wide they graze ; The fields, all waving richly gay, The flowers, unfolding to thy ray, Though silent, smile thy praise. Now, from his couch upstarts the swain, And sprightly hurries o'er the plain, To see what Night has done : With heartfelt joy, his flocks among, He joins the universal song — ' Hail, ever bounteous Sun !' " 26 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE. THE FURY SENT TO WITHHOLD JUTURNA FROM ASSISTING HEE BROTHER TURNUS. ( Translated from Virgil, Book Twelfth.) " Another counsel now great Jove revolves, To send Juturna from the fight resolves. In lowest regions, far remote from light, Three sisters, at a birth, were horn to Night r The Furies named ; of serpents is their hair ; Wings swift as wind, given by parental care. These, at the threshold of the sovereign god, Stand, ready heralds of his ireful nod ; Whene'er great Jove gives the supreme behest, To dart wild horror in the human breast ; Dire death to send, or fell disease bestow, Or whelm a city, guilt-distained, in woe. To one of these Jove gave command to fly, With winged speed, down from the lofty sky ; With orders charged, his ireful signs to wield Before Juturna in the martial field. The downward course the pinioned Mischief bends,. In rapid whirlwind to the earth descends. As from a Parthian or Cydonian bow, Death- tinged, incurable, against the foe, An arrow, o'er the cloud-benighted green, Flies, hissing, in the shady maze unseen ; So flies the Sister-plague, offspring of Night, And seeks the earth : soon as she saw the fight r Of her own form she took that fowl's instead, Which sits, by night, o'er the entombed dead ; On ruined domes, or on forsaken towers, Late, inauspicious, hoots amidst the bowers. This form assumed, before ^Eneas' foe, The whirling Fury screams, foreboding woe. With her horriferous wings she flaps his shield ; His limbs relaxed with fear, his blood congealed ; .THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 27 His hair stood bristly at the fatal sight ; His tongue was fettered with the sudden fright. Soon as Juturna knew the direful sign, In anguish deep, she tore her hair divine ; Her face she mangled, and her breast she beat — ' What can I now, O Turnus, in thy fate ? What now remains to me, in wretched plight ? Thee, by what art, can I detain in light ? Such rueful monsters can my power withstand ? Now, now I quit the field, the fighting band ! Ill-boding fowls, do not augment my fear ! Your beating wings, your deadly screams I hear. The mandates stern I know of Jove divine ! — Are these rewards for chastity like mine ? Or why eternal life on me bestow ? Why vanquish death to be a nymph in woe ? If I my wretched brother could attend, In death most sure, in death my woes might end' I Immortal I ! ah ! where is the delight, Without my brother to be found in light ? What earth for me, what earth shall yawn full deep, And give a nymph to everlasting sleep !' Thus said, the goddess veiled her head around, And, groaning, plunged into the deep profound.** In the course of the session, he acquired a valuable per* sonal friend, in a namesake of his own, Mr Robert Pollok, now minister of the United Secession congregation, Buck- haven, in Fife. On the calling of the catalogue in the Latin class, the first time after he joined it, two students, himself and another one, answered to the name of Robert Pollok ; and the Professor requested them to remain and speak with him at the dismissal of the class, to be distinguished by major and minor. They staid as requested ; and met that morn- ning, for the first time, at the Professor's chair. On their 28 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. retiring, Robert brought his namesake, who ranked major of the two, along with him to his lodgings, which were near the top of High Street. After that, they prepared their Latin lessons together at night, till the end of the session ; and an intimate and lasting friendship was then formed between them. In the beginning of May, Robert went home to Moor- house, where he spent the vacation in reading Latin, Greek, and English ; and, at the opening of the classes on the 10th of October, for the session of 1818-19, he returned to col- lege. This session, during which he lodged at No. 36, Canon Street, he attended the Greek class; and devoted his time chiefly to the study of the Greek language. Besides this, he attended a class for elocution, which was taught by the now celebrated Mr James Sheridan Knowles ; and made consider- able improvement in that art. About the New-year, he wrote an " Ode to Moorhouse ;" and it now stands the first of a selection of pieces from his juvenile poetry, annexed to the present memoir. It is pro- per to add, that, in the course of the session, he formed an intimate and permanent friendship with Mr David Marr, then a student at the University of Glasgow, and lately mini- ster of the United Secession congregation, Lothian Road, Edinburgh. During the summer, while he prosecuted, at home, the study of Latin and Greek, he read English more than for- merly, in preparation for the Logic class of the ensuing winter ; and produced a few verses occasionally. Having now fairly discontinued agricultural pursuits, his leisure or re- creative hours were passed, generally, either in talking with his friends and neighbours, or in walking in the fields, obser- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 29 ving and contemplating- the various objects and appearances of nature, which he admired in all its extent and variety. He noticed every thing, and took interest in every thing, near and distant, above and below, little and great, animate and inani- mate, man and beast. Whatever was worthy of God to create and preserve, was surely, he thought, worthy of man to notice and take interest in. His taste for the varied scenes and views around Moor- house was not partial, but universal, extending to all places, at all times and seasons. From his boyhood, he frequented all the heights and hollows, springs, lakes, and streams, for several miles around it. Scarcely was there a spot in its whole neighbourhood where his feet did not tread ; and, though he had favourite places of resort, he admired each place in itself, and in its relation to others. One great source of his admiration was what is there emphatically termed the North Hills, a magnificent range of Highland mountains, including Ben Cruachan, Ben Lomond, Benvenue, Ben Ledi, and Benvoirlich ; and presenting a front, as seen from Moorhouse, unsurpassed for boldness by any thing in Scotland. These mountains, which were afterwards designated by him, " Scotia's northern battlement of hills," formed his favourite view ; and often did he rise from writing at Moorhouse, and go out to a small elevation beside it, called the Head of the Close, and admire them, in their varied appearances throughout the year. Nothing, however, delighted him so much as walking out alone, in a good day, without any definite purpose, into the moors that lie to the south and south-east of Moorhouse ; wandering among them from height to height, or from glen 30 THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK, to glen, till, as lie expressed it, his " soul was filled with their glories ;" and then returning home at his leisure. His fa- vourite places of resort in these walks were the top of Bala- gich, and a great hollow about three miles to the south-east of it towards Loudon Hill, called the Crook of the Lainsh, where the moors may be said to be in perfection — where they stretch out on all sides as far as the eye can reach, and where scarcely a cultivated spot, or any trace of art, is visible. To his walks in these moors, he referred afterwards in the following well-known passage, which combines a de- scription of the two last-mentioned places, and expresses his feelings and habits in visiting them : " Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot, In the wide desert, where the view was large. Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me The solitude of vast extent, untouched By hand of art ; where Nature sowed herself, And reaped her crops 5 whose garments were the clouds ; Whose minstrels, brooks ; whose lamps, the moon and stars ; Whose organ- choir, the voice of many waters ; Whose banquets, morning dews ; whose heroes, storms ; Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers ; Whose orators, the thunderbolts of God ; Whose palaces, the everlasting hills ; Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue ; And from whose rocky turrets, battled high, Prospect immense spread out on all sides round ; Lost now between the welkin and the main, Now walled with hills that slept above the storm. " Most fit was such a place for musing men ; Happiest sometimes when musing without aim. It was, indeed, a wondrous sort of bliss The lonely bard enjoyed, when forth he walked, Unpurposed ; stood, and knew not why ; sat down, THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 31 And knew not where ; arose, and knew not when ; And sought, sought neither heaven nor earth, sought nought, Nor meant to think ; hut ran, meantime, through vast Of visionary things, fairer than aught That was ; and saw the distant tops of thoughts Which men of common stature never saw, Greater than aught that largest words could hold, Or give idea of to those who read." * The only house that he visited in these moors, was the far- known Lochgoin, which is about four miles to the south of Moorhouse, in the parish of Fenwick, in Ayrshire. It stands on a green spot, on a commanding height, in the midst of mosses. This house was a haunt for the Covenanters during the persecution between 1660 and 1688 ; and was twelve times searched for them, but none were ever found in it. It contains a flag, a drum, and a pair of drumsticks, which were used at the battle of Bothwell-bridge ; together with Captain Paton's sword, which he carried during eighteen years of the persecu- tion, and his Bible, which he gave to his wife from the scaffold, immediately before he was executed at the Grassmarket of Edinburgh. It was first built in 1178, and the same family which came originally from France on account of persecu- tion, have possessed it from generation to generation, for six hundred years. Its last possessor, John Howie, a common farmer, with a common education, compiled within its walls the " Scots Worthies ;" and collected in it a considerable library of valuable old books, which are in the possession of his son Thomas Howie, its present possessor. To this hallowed, venerated, and interesting place, Robert instituted a yearly summer visit of all the young people in the neighbourhood of Moorhouse ; and it is still kept up under the name of Robert * The Course of Time, Book V. 32 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. Pollok's Lochgoin visit, and many come from different quar- ters to join in it. About this time, lie was constantly attended by a strong, dark-brown, colly dog, which he called Juva, a Latin name of the same import as Help in English ; and one of the habits of this dog — which was so strongly attached to him, that, when he was away from home, he often sat outside the door, and howled till he returned — deserves to be mentioned here. When he happened, at any time, to sit writing longer than usual, Juva rose from below the table, where he often lay, and put his foot upon his knee, and pawed it gently, to make him rise and take a walk. In this way, Robert once said to me, in speaking of the habit, Juva often admonished him that he had sat long enough, and made him rise and go out and take exercise, when he would not have done it. " Indeed," he added with a smile, " he seemed to know better when I had sat long enough than I did myself." But he and Juva did not long enjoy one another; and the following fact, relative to their separation, will show how great a favourite he was with him : One day when he was from home, Juva followed some of the Moorhouse family to Glasgow, where he was lost ; and when Robert was told of the occurrence, he became silent, and the tears started to his eyes ; and, after a short pause, he said, with great emotion, " He will be very ill about me, he was so much attached to me ; that is the thing that makes me so ill about him." Towards the end of this summer, he began to keep a note- book. It is dated " July 26th 1819," and contains short extracts from Hervey, Burns, Beattie, Shakspeare, Ossian, Pope, Milton, Johnson, and others, being selections from his reading for about eleven months. He began it very sys- THE LIFE OF BOBERT POLLOK. 33 tematically : four pages of it are left for contents ; the first twenty-nine extracts are numbered in succession ; and a table of contents is begun, specifying the subject of each, and re- ferring to its number and page. Early in November, he returned to college for the session of 1819-20, and joined the Logic class, under the pro- fessorship of the venerated George Jardine. To this class he had looked forward with much delight, and he entered on the business of it with great ardour. He paid particular at • tention to the lectures of the Professor, took copious notes of them, and wrote carefully all the exercises or essays pre- scribed to the class, of which there were usually three a-week. In these essays he took great pleasure, and he wrote them, from the very first, with ease and rapidity. Early in the session, he joined with a number of his class- fellows, of whom the writer was one, in forming a Logic-class debating society ; and, after its formation, he took a promi- nent part in the debates. While he continued to take his share in the business of this society, he became an active member of another one of a similar kind ; so that he was, one way and another, busily employed. Of his various engagements, about the middle of De- cember, he has himself left an account in the following letter to his cousin and early companion, Mr Robert Pollok, North Moorhouse ; which is, so far as I know, his first letter that has been preserved : " Glasgow, Dec. 15, 1819. " My Dear Friend, — I received a parcel this morning from Mr John Campbell,* in which was a letter directed to your- self, which I hereby send you, * A second cousin of his. 34 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " The streets of Glasgow are overlaid with ice : therefore, if you intend to come to town before thaw, you had better have yourself frosted. " I would write you a long letter if Time, that hurrying chielf would permit. But he seems to have got a new fea- ther in his wing ; and, if I am not prepared to profess [Greek] against to-morrow at two o'clock ; if I am not pre- pared to be president in the Logic society, first Saturday, and orator * in another, early next week ; and do not, in the interim, write many logical essays, and read much Latin and Greek — if I do not perform all these things before Thursday, next week, he says, with his usual determination, that I must be left behind. I shall try, however, to lop off some of his extreme feathers ; and that, you know, can be done only by exertion. " If the weather be thus bitter cold, I am not sure if I may be at Moorhouse on the approaching holidays. I hope, there- fore, that you will gather all the news of that circle with which you are connected, and send them to me. * * * # " Write to me soon. Remember me kindly to all your friends and mine about you, and especially to my dear uncle your father. Accept my best respects, and believe me to be, yours inviolably, " R. Pollok. » p.S. — I have not been short after all." Among the last exercises prescribed to the Logic class, was one called the Descriptive Essay, the subject of which was not given out by the Professor, but left to the choice of * Opener of debate. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 35 the writer ; and it was reckoned the principal essay of the session for trying the attainments of the students in thinking and composition. The Descriptive Essay which Robert wrote for this class, is a fictitious account, in a letter to a friend, of an imaginary journey, supposed to be performed in the beginning of the summer of 1820, on leaving college for the session. It is his first attempt, in prose, at description of character, and may be regarded, on the whole, as a fair specimen of his powers of invention and description, at this early stage of his edu- cation. On this account, it seems proper to introduce it here, with the omission of a few passages. " My Dear Friend, — I set out from K , towards M , my native place, about six o'clock in the morning. As the weather was not very agreeable, I took my seat in the inside of the stage-coach. My fellow-travellers seemed mostly to think, like myself, that the inside was more comfortable : it was, therefore, very much crammed. The company, in general, seemed little inclined for conversation. There was one or two, however, who wished to contribute as much as was in their power to the happiness of their fellow-crea- tures. These had learned habitually to think that man has his origin in the dust, and that thither he is soon to return, where all distinction will be done away for ever: these wished to speak and to hear. Silence was, therefore, occa- sionally banished from the company, and conversation filled its place. Two or three of the characters, as they appeared to me somewhat interesting, I shall attempt to describe. " Besides myself, there was only one male passenger inside the vehicle. I will not dwell upon his bodily qualifications ; 36 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. but, to give you an idea of the whole outward man at once, he wanted nothing but just a little added to every part to represent Richard III. He was in this as his Maker made him, and therefore well. But his present mind he had acquired at the expense of infinite labour. It was por- trayed in his face, and seemed to read thus : * Ye are all contemptible beings in this vehicle except myself. It is a great pity that such a one as I should be exposed to the staring eyes of such a despicable crowd/ " I was very curious to know who this extraordinary per- sonage might really be. At the first stage, I made enquiry at the postilion, who, instead of beginning with titles, told me, that the gentleman of whom I was enquiring was a tailor, who had lately spoiled a suit of clothes to his grace the Duke of ! " The being, which I am now to describe, wore a counte- nance made up of envy, hatred, despair, and their concomi- tant passions. It was a woman, aged, I think, about thirty- five years. She was dressed, however, in p a style of vanity which might have been pardonable in a girl of fifteen, but really ill became her age and countenance. " This unhappy being, I found to be one who, in her early years, had been esteemed the beauty of the place where she resided. From her beauty, or rather want of sense, she had waved her head disdainfully at the first youths in the place ; and had heard, with an unrelenting heart, the departing sigh of many a lover. In short, she was one of those beings which the Spectator designates by the name 'idol/ and a striking example of the ( woman,' having ' outlived the god- dess.' " The countenance of the next woman that attracted my SHE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOCK. 37 notice, was of that free, open, and unaffected sort, which is the never-failing beacon of a kind, true, undesigning heart. Fifty years, perhaps, had passed over her. She had with her a little grand-daughter, on whom she looked with peculiar delight — describing to Miss Jeanie, as she called her, and to any other person who might ask, the objects of curiosity which presented themselves by the way. This lady was not assuming : her countenance said that she would contribute, as much as was in her power, to the happiness of her fellow- creatures. In a word, she came near to one of those cha- racters that novelists describe when they intend to represent perfection. " As the vehicle proceeded, the day became beautiful, and I took my seat in the open air. Here was a young gentle- man reading, or pretending to be reading, in the fourth Book of the Iliad. I knew his face : he had been a class- fellow with me during winter. He was not an acquaintance of mine, however ; for he was one of what we call the second class of students, and with that class I have never been inti- mate. But, as you have not studied in a college, you may, perhaps, not understand what I mean by a first, second, and third class. " The first class consists of young gentlemen who are students indeed — gentlemen who add application to talent — gentlemen who wish to be first in learning, and who are not unwilling to submit to the labour which is necessary for gainiug what they wish. " The second class consists of fine gentlemen ; they must, therefore, be seen on the street, and they must be seen by more than one candle at night. They consequently do not study very much. They wish, however, to pass for gentle- 38 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. men of talent and ability ; and, as they have money, they generally contrive to make a tolerable appearance in the class. Sometimes, too, these gentlemen make a wonderful effort at carrying off a prize ; and in this they are greatly assisted by the gentlemen of the third class ; for, you must know, that there are some young men in, I suppose, every college, who think it a mighty honour to be saluted in a morning by a fine gentleman. So great, indeed, is their de- sire of this, that, I have been told, a salutation or two, and a nod now and then, have sometimes secured a vote. I have been told, too, that these fine gentlemen — I am ashamed to repeat it — have done more by a dinner than others have been able to do by a half-year's hard labour. But saluta- tions, nods, and dinners, have effect on the third class only. " The third class consists of gentlemen who, apparently, care neither for learning nor honour. They are sometimes present, sometimes absent. Their general business is to ap- plaud any smart thing which a fine gentleman may happen to say, and to appear uneasy and dissatisfied when a meritori- ous student speaks * " Well, this gentleman, formerly my class-fellow, and now my fellow-traveller, was an extremely fine gentleman of the second class ; and, would you believe it, sir ? I have seen him enter the class-room with spurs on his boots ; for you must know, that spurs are now almost an essential part of a fine gentleman. No sooner did he see my face than he closed his Homer, and saluted me. It was the first time, however, that he had ever done so. I returned his salutation in my usual way, which, you know, is a little stiff, and sat down. The gentleman was silent for some time. By and by, he began to talk, or at least wished to talk, very learnedly. He THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 39 opened a little trunk, and, after putting aside a pair of spurs, he took out a book superbly bound. ' This,' said he, * is my note-book : here is all the sense of the college.' He opened it, and went on thus : ' A definition — yes, from de and Jingo, to fix to. I used to say to Bucephalus, I will define you, meaning that I would fix the spurs to his sides, if he kept lagging. He is an excellent courser, though, Bucephalus — he is at home before me.' The gentleman then turned over a leaf or two, and, looking to me, asked what I meant by a syllogism, intending, probably, to expose my ignorance. I answered, ' I suppose you have all about it in that book ? ' ', O yes,' said he, ' I studied it : it is finely explained here ; much better than I heard it done. Look you there, I thought it worth writing in German text.' I looked to it. < Sir,' said I, ( you prefer the i and the single I, in the term syllo- gism, to the y and the double V He appeared not to notice me, and proceeded. c Yes, it is an excellent thing the syllo- gism, invented by Aristotle, and improved by Lord Bacon. I am determined to make my dogs run by syllogisms this year ; ay, and Bucephalus too, or Pll define him/ " I was, in this manner, observing, talking, and hearing others talk, when we arrived at an inn, about seven miles dis- tant from my father's house. I wished a good journey to my fellow-travellers, and stepped into the inn. Here, I was well known ; and as it was now dark, the landlord entreated me, with all the earnestness of a friend, to spend the night with him. He urged the lateness of the hour, and the danger that I would be in of catching cold and of losing my way. But nothing could prevail. I had been longer absent from my native place than ever I had been before ; and those feelings were all awake in my breast, which are common to every one, 40 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. when lie is near a home where he expects to be kindly and joyfully received. " The country through which I was now to travel, was partly wild and uncultivated ; and from this inn, no formed road led to my native place. I had to pass many places, too, which, as I had been told in my early years, had been the favourite haunts of witches and fairies, from time immemo- rial. Trusting, however, to my early acquaintance with the country for finding my way, and to the little philosophy of which I thought myself master, for encountering the witches, after supping with the landlord, and wishing him a good night, I proceeded on my way. I had scarcely travelled two miles, when the sky lowered, and the stars disappeared ; and although it was the beginning of summer, the night became very dark. I was now approaching a place, where, as I have often heard old Janet tell, fairies and witches used to dance their mystic rounds. Although it is long since I became a complete unbeliever in witches and fairies, yet, when I ap- proached this place, my hair, in spite of every effort to the contrary, stood on end, and the sweat bedewed my skin. I was afraid, and I was angry because I was afraid. I deter- mined to turn my thoughts on some other object. I repeated my favourite Ode of Horace, in which he describes his country seat. But all would not do. Every wildfowl, which I hap- pened to disturb, made me tremble. I was now come near to an old wall, in which were many stones placed, as stories tell, by these inhabitants of the night ; and on the other side of which was the renowned spot, where the devil nightly as- cended, and gave instructions to his fairy band. I scrambled to the top of the wall, still an obstinate unbeliever in witches ; and, summoning up all my fortitude, made a bold leap down THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 41 on the haunted spot. How dreadful was my terror ! Some- thing started under me, and with inconceivable velocity car- ried me across the fields. In this dreadful moment, the night grew blacker, it thundered at a distance, and the night-owl screamed. In the midst of my confusion, I discerned, that the being on which I was placed, had two mighty horns. Who would have doubted it ? I thought that I was indeed riding into the other world. Fear overcame me. All this I experienced, or thought I experienced, in little, more than a moment. For when I began to recover, I found myself stretched on the ground, about twenty yards from the wall. It was some time before I could be convinced that I was still an inhabitant of the upper world. Never was my unbelief so nearly overcome ; never did my philosophy avail me less ; never did the tales of old Janet appear so true. I reflected how I had laughed at such tales, and pitied the poor beings who believed them. * This,' said I, * is, perhaps, a chastise- ment for my unbelief I heaven is never without means to convince whom it wishes/ I was just about to thank the Al- mighty for convincing me, and likewise for delivering me from the Evil- One, when the bleating of a sheep — so easily are we tempted from our duty — attracted my attention. It was answered by others, which, I knew by their bleating, were placed near the fatal wall. The single one passed by to join the flock. It was a ram with two large horns — the very ani- mal which I had unluckily bestrode, when I leaped from the wall. All my fear was now at an end ; and I resolved, once more, never to believe that witches and fairies ever were, or are, or will be. " I now began to proceed forward. It rained, and the D 42 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. night was still very dark. I had not advanced many steps when I began to hesitate, and knew not whither to direct my steps, I saw that in becoming acquainted with Logic, I had been becoming less acquainted with travelling through a pathless country, in a dark night. I sometimes walked, some- times ran, and sometimes stood. In this manner I spent the night. It had been a thunder-storm ; the rain was now over ; all was calm. I sat down to rest, for I had travelled many miles, although, like some more extensive travellers, I had travelled them in vain.' " The harbingers of the morning now began to scatter the night. In my earlier years, it was my chief delight to observe the rising sun, in a summer morning. I found myself still captivated with the purple tinges of the east. My eyes fol- lowed these beautiful visitants of the morning, while they travelled over to the west. My soul was pleased. ' Is it/ said I, ( to call forth man early to his duty, and to delight him at the same time, that the Omnipotent thus beautifies the morning ? How wise and how good to man is the Almighty I Who would not love and obey so good a Lord!' " I was, in this manner, contemplating the heavens and their Creator, when the great ruler of the day, like a strong man rejoicing to run a race, rose on the world. I had often seen him rise before, but never did he appear so beautiful as now. Darkness had given me much trouble ; light was, on that account, more agreeable. I looked round about me, and saw that I was at the very border of a cultivated country, blooming in all the vigour of commencing summer. * But •a little while ago/ said I, ' all this was covered with dark- ness.' I turned my eyes towards the sun ; and although I THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 43 am no poet, as you know, my thoughts, I do not know how^ fell into the form of verse, in the following manner : — . [Here follows, in the original manuscript, the " Ode to the Sun," inserted above, at page 25.~] " My thoughts were now all bent on home ; and I turned my steps back into the uncultivated country, following the course of a winding river. After I had proceeded about two miles in this direction, my course was stopped. Here the stream rushed from a rock, forming a beautiful arch. A few yards below this waterfall, was a little grove, situated in a kind of peninsula, described by the windings of the river. The hills rose quickly on every side ; here I was hid from every eye. ' How favourable is this place/ said I, ' for tender lovers ! Here the youthful pair might breathe out the fervent tale, unseen, save by approving heaven.' I surveyed the place attentively. It was the very same which I had heard so often renowned as the spot in which Melvan and Liza spent their happy hours, before the tyrant father of Liza separated her for ever from Melvan's adverse fortune. Here Melvan had often talked love with his fair consenting Liza ; and hither he often resorted, after she was made the wife of another. I reclined myself a few minutes in the little grove. ' This," said I, * was, perhaps, the favourite seat of the lovers/ In a little opening, in the trunk of a weeping-birch, close by my side, I discerned a slip of paper. It was probably left by Melvan in some of his solitary visits to the grove. It con- tained a few lines, addressed to Liza. The language is some- what harsh, and a few of the terms bear marks of the schools ; but Melvan was not unlearned. As these lines show the happy effect of piety on disappointed love, they may, perhaps, not be unpleasing to you. 44 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. [Here follow, in the original manuscript, the " Lines to Liza," inserted above, at page 20.] " After spending a few minutes in this sequestered spot, I climbed to the top of an eminence, whence I discerned, at a little distance, a road which led to my native place. Thither I directed my steps ; and about six o'clock I arrived at my father's house. The family were all up, for here people have not yet learned the unnatural fashion of living in the night, and slumbering away the day. I was received, as I knew I would be : every countenance, every hand, every tongue, welcomed my arrival. " After I had recited the adventures of the night, as a reason for arriving at so early an hour, and after requesting the old servant, John, to awake me at the end of four hours, I retired to rest. " The old faithful servant awoke me at the moment ap- pointed. I walked out to enjoy the scenes of my youthful innocence. I reclined myself under the shade of some reve- rend trees, which have stood no man living knows how long. I looked on the dwelling of my fathers, and surveyed the ad- jacent fields. The day was beautiful — every thing was beau- tiful — every thing pleased me. I reflected on the hurry of the city which I had left, and compared it with this peaceful retreat. I turned my eyes again on the dwelling of my fathers ; it was venerable, and I thought it pious to indulge the following lines : — [The " Ode to Moorhouse," mentioned above, at page 28, concludes the essay, with the signature and date.] In the Logic-class he was, by the suffrages of his class- fellows, awarded a prize, which was the first that he received at college. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 45 Of the essays that he wrote for this class, twenty-four remain ; and they average a little above eight quarto pages a piece. It may be added, that, during most of the session, he attended, as a hearer, the readings and criticisms of Pro- fessor Young in the private Greek class ; and that there is preserved a small note-book, which he used in that class, with the following characteristic and appropriate title — " A few of the Curiosities and nice Discoveries of the Wonderful Man, even the man Professor Young ; for the session 1819-20." Throughout the session, he got books from the Logic-class library, and read English more extensively and variously than he had done hitherto. Among these books, it may be men- tioned, were Johnson's " Lives of the Poets," which he perused with great avidity and deep interest. In the course of the session, he began to learn the French language ; and in prosecuting the study of it, he attended Mr St Ange Simeon's class an hour a-day for two months ; and received a prize for accuracy in translating and in writing exercises. After that, he prosecuted the study of the language himself, without a teacher ; and this was the only modern or living language, besides English, that he ever attempted to acquire. 46 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, CHAPTER III. At the breaking-up of the classes, in the beginning of May, Robert retired again to Moorhouse ; and his first care, during this vacation, was the recruiting of his health, which had been rather encroached on by the labours of the preceding session. Still, however, he studied hard, and his reading now became more extensive and varied than ever, comprising all kinds of books ; of which he continued to receive supplies from the Logic-class library. The following letter, which he wrote to me, near the mid- dle of June, is the best account of him, at the time, that can be given ; being his own account of his studies and his spirits, his health, feelings, and prospects : — " Mr David Pollok, No. 12, Duke Street, Glasgow. " Moorhouse, June 13, 1820. " Dear Brother, — Accompanying this, are a few lines on ' Anger.' I would have sent you some more poetry which I have occasionally put together ; but I have no paper. " I have been studying hard this some time, for I found rambling idle did no good to my health. I have been con- siderably worse since the commencement of May. My spirits have been, for the last two weeks, unusually dull. The pre- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 47 sent state of my body, and the influence which it has on my mind, render my sleep short and precarious. My situation is, indeed, not agreeable. To be aiming at literature with- out adequate assistance is a hard task ; but to be without adequate assistance and stimulating health is harder still. When I look to the scholar's unprotected fate, and think, that even at this season of the year, my health is rather re- trograde, the prospect is indeed gloomy. I have not spoken of the state of my health to any person here. But the lowness of my spirits is no doubt visible. My constitution is yet strong and far from being sickly. Dr Reid, the last time I saw him, said there was no danger whatever ; and recommended residing a month or two on Arran, and taking occasional sails. The rarity of the air, in that quarter, would probably have a good effect on the mind ; and the sea-bathing, which I never tried, might have an influence of some kind on the body. But to go there and be comfortable requires money ; and you know that is not to be found. Were I even to get it here, I know so well their inability to assist me, that every shilling which I spend tortures my soul. I do not write this to hurt your feelings, but it gives me some pleasure to communicate my own feel- ings to you ; and at the same time, to have your advice in return, will afford me great satisfaction. « R. Pollok." He did not go to reside in Arran, as Dr Reid, his medical adviser, had " recommended ; " but in the beginning of Au- gust, along with Mr Andrew Bryson, a young gentleman of great promise, long since deceased, he took a sail to Dublin, where he remained about a fortnight. The only trace of his visit to this city, that is to be met with among his papers, is 48 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. the following" stanza of a short piece, entitled " Lines written in Phoenix Park, Dublin :" " All Nature here to please conspires, And Art combines her varied powers ; Here, doubly burn the lover's fires ; For Love itself hath formed these bowers." In a few days after his return, he tried his talents at de- scription of real character, in the following letter to me ; which, while it expresses some of his opinions, sentiments, and feelings, on an interesting and rather popular subject* indicates very distinctly the development of his mind : — " Moorhouse, Aug. 18, 1820. " Dear friend, one moment quit the classic page, The modern theorist and the ancient sage, With all the depth of philosophic lore, Through which your eye has long been taught to pore. A brighter theme, the Muse, devoid of fear, Presses upon your unaccustomed ear. The theme's Maria — who will not attend, When all the Muses, unimplored, descend ? For when the virtuous fair our theme compose, The Muses listen though we speak in prose. " My Dear Friend, — Travelling lately in the west of Scot- land, I called at the house of a young lady with whom I have had some little acquaintance since the year 1815. She is the daughter of a reputable farmer ; and during the five years last past, has been a successful scholar in the various branches of female education, which render the sex more amiable and useful, without making them vain and ostentatious. Disgust- ed at the inurbanity of manners which prevailed around her, this young lady, whom we shall call Maria, at an early age THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 49 aspired at a habit of life, which might render her more in- teresting to the polite and intelligent ; and what she aspired at she has attained. " As I have observed with delight this tender plant, growing up to maturity in female accomplishments, amidst circumstances rather unfavourable — amidst circumstances which have retained many of Maria's equals, in point of birth, known only by ignorance and shameless rudeness, permit me to give you a short sketch of her character. Those ought to be interesting to all, who, by virtuous means, make them- selves more amiable and more useful than the other members of that society to which they originally belonged. It was attention to those, that civilized mankind; and it is still by imitating those useful individuals, that society is carried from one degree of improvement to another. " Maria's form is handsome, and might measure something about middle size. Her hair is black, and sports, in luxuri- ant ringlets, on a forehead and neck of a polish and white- ness which arrest the eye of the most careless beholder. Her eyes are blue, and are met with ease and pleasure, always full of the goodness of her heart. Maria's colour is not high, nor is she fashionably pale : it is a colour pecu- liar to those who are neither exposed to the weather nor en- gulfed in dissipation. The whole air of her countenance is attractive and easy. Goodness will gaze on her with freedom and delight ; wickedness will withdraw its eye ashamed and reproved. Such is a faint description of what must strike every one when Maria is the object of ocular contemplation. " But exterior accomplishments are not all Maria's endow- ments. Indeed, that which gives her countenance the most fascinating charm is the effect of a mind, animating every 50 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. feature without compulsion or restraint. Knowing well that modesty and some degree of diffidence are indispensable in those of the sex who would please, Maria is very different from that class of females who have spoken all their days without putting themselves to the trouble of thinking. When Maria speaks, her hearers are all attention, because she thinks be- fore she speaks. Her manners are completely free from rudeness ; nor have they dwindled into mere ceremony. Her town's education has not had the baleful effect of making her like too many, more accomplished and more stupid. She possesses the sensibility and guilelessness of the country maid, without her awkwardness, or ignorance ; and the re- finement and activity of the town's lady, without her whimsi- calness, or deception. She pleases without showing too much anxiety to please : always cheerful, but never given to bois- terous mirth ; because it is inconsistent with her delicacy of feeling. In a word, all her demeanour seems rather to be produced by Christian goodness, than hammered on the anvil of fashion. Hers is that ' sanctity of manners' which is the offspring of ' unaffected goodness.' Yes ! religion has shed its benignant influences on her soul. It is here that she is irresistibly amiable. It is this, speaking in her countenance, which charms and animates the good ; which abashes and re- proves the bad. Maria's tongue is not bridled by the tram- mels of fashion, but by that piety which is not ' vain.' She ' openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness.' " If Heaven should ever bless Maria with a congenial part- ner of life, her heart will beat responsive to his every feeling : he will be ' known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.' Then will it be said of her, ' Many THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 51 daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.' For ' a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.' " You have, no doubt, noticed that, in this short sketch of Maria's character, I have not mentioned a single fault. Hear my reason : I have found none. You are not, however, to imagine from this, that I think her perfect; or that the de- scription given of her, is the hyperbolical ebullition of a blind passion. Unable to call myself by the tender name of her friend, I am only an acquaintance. A more intimate connexion might discover some faults; but no connexion could reasonably discover faults which would not be lost, al- most sooner than seen, in that blaze of goodness which per- vades every part of her character. As the spots which are said to exist in the sun are lost in the bright effulgence of his beams ; so Maria's faults, if she have any, are completely hid- den in the dispreading luxuriance of her goodness : and as the spots in the sun are no obstruction to his cheering, vivi- fying, and day-making influences on the earth ; so Maria's faults can be no hindrance to her pleasing, animating, and soul-brightening influences on those around her. " How delightful is it to see youth, and beauty, and good- ness, combined in the same female ! What an irresistible power over mankind have justice and religion when enforced by so winning an admonisher ! Were there sufficient Marias in the world, what respect were due to the female character ! How much would the eternal interests of mankindbe promoted ! How much more rational and satisfactory were the pleasures pursued in the world I Then were Lemuel's description of a good wife applicable ; then were domestic jarring at an 52 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. end ; then might it be universally said, c He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing.' " With what pleasure will the celestial blessed hover around Maria's peaceful abode; mark her strengthening every virtuous principle, from the oracles of truth ; see her imbuing every youthful mind about her with the sanctity of her own ; and behold her bowing, unseen by the world, and pouring out her soul, in all the sweetness of the purest devo- tion, to her Creator and Redeemer ! With what satisfaction and delight will her guardian angel watch over every emo- tion of her soul ; guard her against every temptation ; and fill her mind, by heavenly commission, with the raptures felt above ! At every new conquest of her soul over the innate corruption of her heart ; at every new development of virtue in her mind ; at the termination of the duties of her every day, how will these watching spirits vie, in holy ardour, with one another, to be the messengers of the happy tidings to the celestial courts ! Nay, with what infinite delight will Jehovah, the Creator of the ends of the earth, look down on this tender offspring of his hands ! With early piety — with the humble and contrite in heart, the Lord delights to dwell. " R. POLLOK. " N.B. I have not read over the above, but you can cor- rect its errors. " Try to get some good book on moral philosophy. I in- tend to be in Glasgow soon — perhaps next week. I would willingly receive a sheet or two of paper from you, inked on any subject. « R. P." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 53 Early this summer, lie began to keep a eommonpface-book. It consists of forty pages octavo, and is closely Written from beginning to end. The first seven pages register his own thoughts, or record facts which have come under his own observation ; and the rest are occupied with historical state- ments from his course of reading. The following selections from the first seven pages of the book, it is presumed, may be acceptable to the reader : " Commonplace-Book, June 9th, 1820. « R. Pollok. " Men become bachelors from these various causes : 1. Some from thoughtlessness and carelessness. 2. Some from early disappointments. 3. Some from the hurry of business. 4. Some from picturing too much to themselves all the evils that may attend marriage. 5. Some from a narrow worldly spirit which cannot think to share the bounties of Providence with another. " Among equals, the best method to exhaust anger and to diminish it for the future, appears to me, to be to maintain an obstinate taciturnity in its presence, and to disobey all that is urged by it. " Indolence and pride the worst of evils. " The happiness, or rather pleasure, which shines on the inhabitants of earth, may be ranked in two general classes. The first class comprehends all that pleasure which is purely mental ; the second that which relates, in a more particular manner, to the body. Of this last kind of pleasure there is one source which I have never seen mentioned by the specu- lators on happiness, and which, in my opinion, contributes a very exquisite bodily feast, although, like all the enjoyments 54 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. of the more corporeal kind, it is very evanescent. The plea- sure which I mean is that enjoyed by a weary mortal, who, by some external or internal circumstance of no afflictive kind, has been roused from his slumbers two hours or three before sleep has completed its renewing work on his body ; and who believes, at the same time, that his proper season for sleep is fully elapsed. When all this, I say, happens to the weary son of the dust, and just when it has happened, if the sound of the measurer of time, or any other compas- sionate messenger, tell him that his season of repose is not yet finished — that two or three hours are to be added to the years that are past, before it become his duty to rise — with what riotous delight does the half-refreshed mortal place his head on his pillow, fling his limbs carelessly abroad on their fascinating support, cling with his whole body to the bed in sleepy joy, and return to his needed repose ! Does any person laugh at this pleasure, and call it carnal ? Let him call it so. In the midst of such delight my heart has swelled with gratitude to heaven ; and what makes me grateful to God deserves my respectful attention — deserves not the scof- fing laugh of mortals." But the principal thing that he did at this time, was writing an " Essay on the External Senses and the Means of Improving them," in competition for a prize which Professor Jardine announced, at the close of the preceding session, for the best on the subject, to be written during the vacation, by any student who had attended his class that session ; and he was successful in his competition — the decision being given in his favour. The Essay extends to a hundred and four quarto pages, and is considered too long and abstruse for this work. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 55 It is thought proper to give an account here of all the "poetry" that he "occasionally put together" after the spring of 1816, when he composed his first piece, up to the summer of this year inclusive. In regard to this " poetry," whatever be its quality, it is considerable in quantity and variety- It is all written in a book, consisting of sixty pages, large quarto, in a marbled paste-board cover. His name is inscribed on the first page, and on the third is this notice : " The little pieces which are written in this book are all in an uncorrected state." The fourth contains the following Latin motto : " Non jam prima peto Mnestheus, " "Extremos pudeat rediise; " The poetry begins on the fifth page, and extends to the end of the book. There are twenty pieces of it altogether, the " Ode to Moorhouse" standing first in order; and all are original but four, of which two are translations, and two are paraphrases. Three of the pieces are the " Lines to Liza," " Ode to the Sun," and the " Translation" from Virgil, inserted above ; and five of them, namely, " Ode to Moor- house," " A Hymn," " David's Lamentation over Saul and Jonathan," " Christ's Resurrection," and " The Dis- tressed Christian to his Soul," which stands last in the book, are inserted at the end of the Life, along with selections from his later occasional poetry. The rest of them are suppressed. Early in November, he returned to college for the session of 1820-21, and joined the Moral Philosophy class, under Professor Mylne. To this class he had looked forward with great pleasure and high anticipations. He expected much from the science taught in it, and he had often heard of the 56 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. clear head, and clear thinking and writing of Professor Mylne. Nor was he disappointed: Mr Mylne, as he ob- served to me, one day, in the course of the session, was all that was said of him, and his lectures were as interesting as he anticipated. In this class, besides regular examinations on the lectures, of which there was one delivered every day, one essay a-week was prescribed to the students ; and voluntary essays were received from such as chose to give them in. The weekly essays were read in the class by the students themselves, and the voluntary ones were given in to the Professor, who men- tioned them to the class, and read either the whole or a part of them, according to circumstances. In the duties of the class, Robert engaged, from the very first, with great spirit, and he displayed, in discharging them, more energy than he did in any of the preceding classes. From the outset, he seemed determined to do something, and he continued intent on his purpose. His soul was in his work. To the Professor's lectures he listened with great attention, and was diligent and successful in taking notes of them, of which there are preserved four octavo volumes, amounting to two hundred and thirty pages. In his prepa- rations for the class, at his room, No. 20, North Portland Street, he was most assiduous, persevering, and unremitting in his application to study. Besides the weekly essays, he wrote at intervals a number of voluntary ones, and on all of them he bestowed much labour both in thought and ex- pression. Before putting pen to paper, he made himself master, by reading and thinking, but chiefly by the latter, of the subject on which he was about to write, and then he pro- ceeded to compose with great carefulness. He took much pains THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 57 in his composition, especially in regard to precision of lan- guage and style ; being determined, as he sometimes remarked, to say what he should say, and what he wanted to say. He and I wrote together at the same table, and he sometimes exclaimed, looking across it to me, when he felt a difficulty to express himself as he wished, " If a man could put his ideas on paper exactly as they are in his own head ! — if he could let another see them as he sees them himself! — or if we could write as well as we can think ! " In this class his mind was much expanded, and he made great and marked progress in thinking and writing. Among the advantages which he derived from it, was learning to distrust books, and if not to think, at least to decide, for himself. He once said to me, " Till I heard Mr Mylne lecture, I never thought of calling in question the opinion of an author. If it differed from mine, I thought it must be right, and my own wrong. But, in Mr Mylne's class, I was set free, for ever, from the trammels of book-authority ; I lost all deference to authors, and opinions, and names ; and learned, not only to think and decide for myself, but to test severely my own opinions." In composing the elaborate essays for this class, his mind was well-disciplined to close consecutive thinking, to calm sound moral reasoning, and to clear definite writing. His prose style was so much improved, that he wrote, ever after, not only with greater facility, but with more precision, energy, and correctness. Henceforward, he could " let another see things as he saw them himself " — he could, with- out effort, " write as well as he could think." At the deciding of the prizes, he was awarded one by the 58 THE LIFE OF EOBERT POLLOK. votes of his class-fellows ; and this was the third and last prize that he took in going through college. Throughout the session, he availed himself of his privilege of attending, as a hearer, the lectures of Professor Young in the private Greek class ; and towards the close of the session, he wrote a verse translation of the first chorus of Sophocles' " King CEdipus," in competition for a prize which the Pro- fessor announced for the best English translation in verse of that chorus, written by any of his students : but it was not successful. The essays which he wrote for the Moral Philosophy class have all been preserved. There are twenty-three of them altogether ; and they vary in length, from three quarto pages to thirteen, averaging nearly eight pages a piece. Two are in verse — the one on " Divine Benignity," and the other " A Tale Illustrating the Unity of Justice and Bene- volence." When the session closed, at the beginning of May, he retired to Moorhouse, in ordinary health ; and he began the vacation with English reading and composition. In a week or two after he went home, he delivered an address, in the United Secession Church at Eaglesham, on the duty of sending the gospel to the heathen, for a society, designated " The Eaglesham Association for Religious Pur- poses," instituted in the January of that year. This was the first time that he spoke in public ; and several individuals who heard him, say they well remember that he spoke with much energy, and that the audience was highly pleased with him. The address is preserved in his hand- writing as it was then spoken ; and it may be inserted here, not only as the first thing that he delivered in public, but as showing his attain- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 59 ments in theology, as well as his zeal for the propagation of the gospel, at the time when it was written — the middle of his twenty-third year. It is as follows : — " Mr President, — With pleasure I take this opportunity of expressing my approbation of the spirit, order, and energy which have formed and conducted your Society. And I would especially congratulate you, with all the other members of the Society, for the noble purpose of your exertions. Had you been only endeavouring to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or shed one ray of comfort on the dreary inhabitant of the dungeon, who would not have applauded the humanity and righteousness of your motive ? But when I know that your design is to clothe the spiritually naked, to emancipate the slaves of the devil, to salute with the voice of mercy those who are rushing heedlessly on in the disastrous mazes and noisome damps of spiritual night, and to persuade them into that bright path whose issue is everlasting life ; may I not ask who would not hasten to be one of your number ? And, indeed, the strong attachment to knowledge, truth, and religion, and the strong aversion to ignorance, error, and superstition, which prevail among the enlightened in your vicinity, have already rendered the list of your subscribers very respectable. To you and to them, Mr President, I would beg leave to say, ye shall not miss your reward. To the good man the consciousness of having designed good is a great reward ; but the accomplishment of his design is a greater. Your infant Society has, perhaps, not yet seen nor heard of its fruits, and been glad ; but as it is beginning to co-operate with those which have been abundantly blessed in plucking so many brands out of the burning, what may you 60 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. not expect ? I know that you and the other members of this Society have no greater joy than to hear, that, by the bless- ing of God on the exertions of British Christians, thousands have been liberated from the imbruting fetters of ignorance and superstition, lifted up from vile prostration to deaf and dumb idols, and taught the honourable worship of the living God. You need not to be informed, nor, I trust, any in your Society, how rapid, of late, has been the flight, and how wide the conquests, of that angel which flies in the midst of heaven^ having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people ; and how widely he is proclaiming with a loud voice, * Fear God, and give glory to him ; for the hour of his judgment is come : and worship Him who made heaven, and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of water/ To what I have said, I know you are prepared to give full credit. And to the uninformed and unbelieving, let existing facts bear witness. Let them listen, through the medium of the most authentic communications, some of which have been sealed with blood, to praises of Messiah, which are now heard, here and there, from the rising to the setting sun. Let them behold, and it is a pleasing sight, the shivering Greenlander, whose mind, for many past ages, like his wintry seas, has been frozen and benumbed by the cold breath of ignorance, and shrouded in darkness, now illuminated, melted, invigorated, and fructified by the all-enlivening beams of < The Sun of Righteousness.' Let them behold many a thirsty African, in the midst of his burning deserts, drinking of the immortal waters of the river of life, and eating of the fruit of that tree * whose leaves are for the healing of the nations,' Let them turn their minds to the banks of the THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 61 Indus and the Ganges, and hear the howlings of the beasts of prey, and the battle-shout of warring savages, broken, here and there, by the sweet warblings of Immanuel's praise. Let them see the simple Hindoos, casting their deaf and dumb * idols to the moles and to the bats/ and flying, like doves, to the windows of salvation. Let them hear, with gratitude and delight, the hallelujahs of Euxine's shores respond to the hosannas of the Caspian ; while the immortal standard of the Cross waves the ensigns of peace on Caucausus' lofty brow. Let them behold the Persian, instead of travelling to Mecca, offering up to the Creator and Redeemer the incense of a broken spirit and a pure heart. Nor have America's isles of slavery been altogether barren of ' the fruits of righteous- ness/ Although there, hand has joined in hand to darken the glooms of ignorance, strengthen the shackles of slavery, and widen the waste places of death, yet, even there, may be seen immortal souls eluding the grasp of oppression ; escaping the thick clouds of meditated ignorance ; and, in the chariot of salvation, triumphing away to the city of eternal refuge. No one needs to be told, that, only a few years ago, through- out all these nations and people, not one beam of celestial day broke into the horrid gloom of their spiritual night ; not one of their songs of praise saluted the ear of Zion's King. By the blessing of God on the exertions of Bible and Mis- sionary Societies, * the wilderness and the solitary place are glad ; the desert rejoices, and blossoms as the rose, . . . the glory of Lebanon is given unto it, the excellency of Car- mel and Sharon: they see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God. . . . The inhabitants of the rock sing, they shout from the top of the mountains. They give glory unto the Lord, and declare his praise in the islands/ 62 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Let these things bear witness that the word of the Lord is, indeed, not returning * to him void ;' and that he is not call- ing men, in vain, to go up with him to battle. " But were I to say, that the present contemplation of the victorious march of truth in the lands of ignorance was all the reward which awaits the Christian's exertions, I would be speaking apart from the words of inspiration. When this world, with all its enjoyments, has passed away, when gold cannot purchase one luxurious dish to the voluptuary, nor one moment's repose to the careless, nor one grim smile to the earth-grasping miser, then shall the exertions of the Christian receive their full reward. When that Christian, who has been the means of spiritually enlightening the mind of a fellow-creature, has ' put on immortality/ when he is reposing himself on the ever-verdant banks of the river of life, then from him shall be heard a louder note of praise swelling the eternal hosannas of heaven. How much will it add to his endless bliss to shake hands, in the regions of immortality, with some, once inhabitant of the desert, whom he has been permitted by his benefactions to be the means of elevating from the wastes of darkness, suffering, and death, and of placing amid the brightness of immortal day, and the felicities of eternal life. His services have been greater, and his reward shall be proportioned to his services. * The liberal soul shall be made fat ; and he that watereth shall be watered also himself.' The i wise, ' or the teachers, ' shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn,' or are instrumental in turning, ' many to righteous- ness, as the stars for ever and ever.' Verily, all who serve Christ shall find that his ' reward is with him.' " But after all this, after all the good which is produced THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 63 on mankind, and all the glory which redounds to God, by the exertions of Christians, in undeceiving the nations, many refuse to cast a single mite into the treasuary of Christ. The man who acts in this manner must be extremely indolent, if he can give no reason for his conduct. Of those who are in this assembly, if there are any, who have it in their power to join your Society, and yet join it not, I would beg leave to ask how they justify their conduct. Is it said by some, < We are, indeed, willing to 'lend unto the Lord/ but we have received so sparingly of the favours of fortune, that we have nothing to give ? ' If this apology have truth for its foundation, they who make it are more than excusable. He with whom they have do takes the will for the deed ; and they shall not miss their reward. But how few can, with sincerity, plead this excuse ? A little attention to economy would enable almost the poorest to contribute, less or more, to the funds of knowledge. Let them not imagine, that the Searcher of hearts will reject or overlook the smallness of the gift. He measures not the love and gratitude of his creature by the largeness of the sum bestowed, but by the willingness of the heart. In the eyes of Jesus Christ, ' the two mites ' of ' the poor widow ' were more precious than all the lordly sums of the rich. " Others may be heard saying, ' We satisfy all the de- mands of the civil law : the hire of the workman never abides in our pocket ; we give good weight and good mea- sure, and we ' owe no man any thing ;' and,' complimenting themselves, continue they, ' it were well for the world if all men acted after the same manner.' " Such men I would wish very much to undeceive. I do not hesitate to say, that it is not true that the man who 64 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. possesses abundance, and at the same time is charitable only according to civil law, owes * no man any thing.' Whoever does less good than his circumstances justify, sins against his fellow creatures, and is really their debtor. Much has been given him, that he may give much to succour the father- less and widow, and to administer the bread of life to the hungry soul. Every poor man whom he sends empty from his door, and every benighted soul which he might have been the means of illuminating, will witness against him at that bar whence there is no appeal. " But, if the uncompassionate rich man still persist in say- ing — and what man can hinder him? — that he owes his fellow- creatures nothing, shall he persist in saying that he owes nothing to his God ? ' Cast thy bread upon the waters,' says the High One ; ' for thou shalt find it after many days/ * No,' replies the incompassionate, * I will do what civil law compels me ; but I will not cast one handful to the gleaner.' And because the sword of justice slumbers, he triumphs in the rectitude of his answer. But let him beware lest it be said concerning him, ' Let the tares grow until the harvest ;' and then shall the Lord of all things ask the unmerciful man, < Where is the increase of my talents? What hadst thou that thou didst not receive of me ? Freely thou receivedst, freely thou shouldst have given. Thou hast shown no mercy, and dost thou expect mercy for thyself? Bind him, and cast him into prison. Verily he shall not come out thence till he has paid the uttermost farthing.' " With all these strong arguments against them, with the Lord of hosts against them, shall there still be some found, who not only ' withhold more than is meet,' but still claim to themselves the epithets of just, good, humane, and the THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 65 like, and would frown indignantly were you to tell them that they have no right to the appellations ? I am sorry that any of my fellow-creatures are unworthy to be called just and compassionate ; and I am unwilling to stigmatize any with the name of wickedness. But let Christians not be imposed upon. ' The vile person ' ought not to be ' called liberal, nor the churl bountiful.' Whatever the characters to which we have been alluding may think or say of themselves, they deserve and ought to be called, unjust, unsympathizing, haters of God and of mankind, lovers of ignorance, superstition, and death. " Many who unrighteously withhold the succours of the destitute, and who pretend to shelter themselves under the propriety of their conduct, would find the genuine reason for their manner of acting, in their own strong propensities to the pleasures of sense. Like the man of old who could not come up to the feast, because he had ' married a wife,' they had much better say the truth, that they can contribute no- thing for the good of their fellow-creatures, or the glory of God, because it requires all they can spare to satisfy the cravings of their lawless passions. This, I admit, may seem a very potent excuse in the eyes of him who makes it. Ap- petites and passions are powerful pleaders. But he who pre- fers their plea to his who is perishing for want of the bread of life, possesses a spirit at the same time mean and cruel. He is endeavouring to destroy others, that he may destroy himself. He cares not how much he lavish on those who vegetate, luxuriate, and rot, in their own moral turpitude, if he can but drink a little of their delicious poison. With what eyes will the pure hosts of heaven look down on the poor wretch ? He will give nothing, that he may conduct a F 66 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. soul up to heaven ; but lie will give abundance, that his own may be driven down to hell. Surely ' Nabal is his name, and folly is with him.' " Another class of those who cannot see it their duty to cast away money among the heathen, would find, were they to enquire, the true reason for this sight of their duty, in their unwillingness to part with money at all. The miser, or the man whose ruling passion is the love of gold, will al- ways find some reason with which he will pretend to justify the gratification of his favourite propensity. Such a being is generally heard saying, ' Had that poor man been indus- trious, he need have been asking alms from no one. To that other poor wretch it were vain to give any thing, for he squanders it away in criminal enjoyments. Something might be given for the benefit of the heathen, but that something would have to pass through so many hands, that really I am afraid it would never reach them. The world is so villanous now-a-days, who can be trusted ? ' With such sophistries as these, the lover of gold labours to deceive himself and the world. But the plain truth is, he is a worshipper of Mam- mon, and cannot be a worshipper of God. He cannot follow . Christ, because he loves large possessions. " With such a being as this it is almost in vain to argue. So thickly is he enveloped in darkness, that he has mistaken this world for his everlasting abode. Should you tell him that the most industrious and virtuous are sometimes baffled by fortune, and thrown over on the sympathies of charity ; should you picture to him the tears of the widowed mother, and the wailings of the naked orphan ; should you insist that he ought candidly to consider the combination of unhappy circumstances which has led the wretched votary of guilt THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 67 down to his present degradation— should you represent the seeds of virtue still living in his breast, the throes of remorse which sometimes agonize his soul, and the wistful look which he casts back on virtue, bewailing the hour that seduced him from her happy path, and tell him that were he candidly to consider these things, that then, instead of saluting the guilt- blotted wretch with reproaches, or turning away in proud contempt, he would see it his duty to stoop down in mercy, instruct, comfort, relieve ; should you assure him that men of the most stubborn honesty and tried fidelity have the man- agement of the funds designed for the benefit of the heathen, his answer would still be, ' There is, indeed, much distress and much ignorance ; but then, impostors are so numerous, and, in fact, the world has been so active in accomplish- ing its own wretchedness, that really it deserves no help.' From a being of this kind I would gladly turn away my eyes : he is the greatest disgrace to humanity, and the most inveterate enemy to the spirit of Christianity. It were well would he consider who is his enemy. He who loves not his brethren of mankind has his Maker for his enemy. He that is not merciful, how shall he obtain mercy ? His gold and his silver shall not be able to deliver him in the day of the Lord's wrath. But why should we argue with him? He has ' joined himself to idols : let him alone.' You need not be concerned, Mr President, about the want of his assistance. Let him bow down to his cankered heaps, and aggrandize them « for the last days.' Without his aid your enterprize shall be successful. He is on your side who calls all worlds and all their fulness his own. " I can scarcely believe that any Gallios hear me — any who never enquire into their duty, and, therefore, suppose they 68 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. never violate it. It would be easy, I think, to convince such persons, that he who continues to live willingly ignorant of his duty, continues willingly to violate his duty. But I beg leave only to request that all such persons would devote one hour, and the hour would not be lost, to the contemplation of the worth of an immortal soul. And it would, perhaps, not be unprofitable for them to recollect at the same time, that there will be no unconcerned spectators at the day of judgment. ' He that is not with me/ says Christ, i is against me.' " Are there some again who say, ' Why so much concern about Christianising the heathen ? The Lord will hasten it in his time. We pray daily that Christ's kingdom may come ; and that is sufficient. We leave the rest to Him who work- eth, and none can let it.' The fallacy and selfishness of this reasoning are extremely palpable. The Lord will, indeed, hasten the time when men ' shall fear his name from the west, and his glory from the rising of the sun.' It is truly he who 1 worketh, and none shall let it.' But he worketh by his ser- vants, and his servants must be supported. It is by 'many* running ' to and fro* that * knowledge' is * increased ; ' and it is by the blessing of God on the contributions of Christians that ' many' are enabled to ' run to and fro.' It is very right that all should pray for the enlightening of the nations. But can a man consistently pray that Christ's kingdom may come, and yet say in his heart at the same time, ' I would not give one farthing for its advancement. Let the heathen be con- verted ; but let none of the expenses come on me.' The Christian, if Christian he can be called, who acts thus, re- sembles very much the physician who should fall down on his knees, and pray that this or that medicine might be blessed for the recovery of his patient, while he diligently withheld THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 69 from the patient the medicine itself. Would any person be- lieve that the physician who acted in this manner was in ear- nest ? And who shall believe that man to be in earnest, who has it in his power, and yet contents himself with praying-, if praying it can be called, for the advancement of Christ's king- dom ? May he not expect this reception from the Father of spirits — * Go first feed the hungry, and clothe the naked ; and then bring thy gift to the altar ? ' That Christ will pro- vide the means for increasing the number of his worshippers is true. But will not the wealthy man, who does no more than wish the gospel well, be likely to meet the fate of Me- roz ? Barak discomfited Sisera and all his chariots, and all his host ; yet says the angel of the Lord, ' Curse ye Meroz, curse ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof, because they came not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty/ " I hope there are few in your vicinity who firmly oppose theselves to the designs of your Society ; few who maintain, that the heathen are beings of an order inferior to us, and, therefore, deserve not our serious attention. Proud mortals ! might we not ask, Has not the most ignorant savage an immortal soul ? and is not the happiness or misery of that soul to be measured by eternity ? If he is inferior to the proudest of Europe's sons, it is only because his means of im- provement have been inferior. The savage is ignorant, be^ cause he has not the means of acquiring knowledge ; and on this account is he less deserving of our sympathy ? Is it not, in fact, because he is ignorant and imbruted, that he requires our illuminating aid ? ' They that are whole need not a phy- sician.' Whoever opposes himself to the civilization of the heathen, must be destitute of divine love. Did Christ leave 70 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. the glory of his Father's right hand, and expose himself to the wrath of God, that he might save his equals ? or did he not rather do all this, that he might save the rebels to his government, the worms of his footstool ? And shall the proudest of the sons of earth think his fellow-worm beneath his notice ? Those who talk of the worthlessness of the heathen are generally among that filthy number who are afraid lest the slavery of mankind cease. They know very well, that were all the tribes of earth brought to ' the knowledge of the truth,' they would soon be stronger than their task-masters, and fling from them the disgraceful bands of slavery. But let oppressors do their utmost : they shall never be able to counteract your designs. He who fights for you, is stronger than they who fight against you. The wicked may < take counsel together against the Lord, and against his Anointed ;' but ' He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh : the Lord shall have them in derision/ And what shall they do when the Lord of hosts takes up ( the weapons of his indignation/ and ' mustereth the host of the battle ? ' Verily the sable African shall not always be a prey : he shall yet ' rule over his oppressors ; ' for the Lord * shall give to his Son the hea- then for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession.' " Some may be ready to conclude, that, if the accounts which they hear of the prosperous advance of the gospel in the lands of darkness be true, sufficient has been already done for the good of the heathen. A little enquiry, however, would prevent every one from drawing this conclusion. The angel on the white horse is, indeed, making rapid conquests ; but much remains yet to be subdued. I will not take up your time in recounting to you the numerous nations that are, at THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 71 this moment, l without God, and without hope in the world ;' and the millions of their inhabitants that debase human na- ture, by the endless absurdities of their superstitions, and the wild cruelty of their sacrifices. These are facts of which few are ignorant. We are glad to have it to say, that much has been contributed for the benefit of the heathen ; and that much good these contributions have done. But, as it is ob- served by a writer in ' The Christian Monitor,' * The trans- lation of the Bible into the various languages of mankind, and giving them a circulation corresponding to the wants of the destitute ; the preparation of missionaries for their interest- ing work, sending them to scenes of active operation, and maintaining them in their destinations, not only when ac- quiring the languages they are afterwards to use, but while informing the minds of those whom they address, inspir- ing them with Christian tempers, and convincing them that the gospel-labourer ' is worthy of his hire/ require an ex- tent of funds which the inconsiderate are unable to calcu late, and the parsimonious unwilling to advance.' Now, unless funds sufficient for this purpose are advanced, much of what has been done must be rendered ineffectual. The glimmerings of day, which have penetrated the realms of darkness, shall be driven back. In the world, the territories of the devil are yet much wider than the dominions of the Messiah ; and shall the Christian, the soldier of Jesus Christ, desert his Master in the midst of the battle ? Shall he not rather press onward that he may rejoice in the triumph of the victory ? " Before I conclude, Mr President, I would request this audience to take a serious view of the poor savage, half-fed 72 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. and half-clothed, wandering in some dreary forest, amidst toil and hazard, to gather, from among the beasts of the field, a precarious and scanty fare. Mark him again, in the dark- ness of midnight, take his dagger in his hand, leave his home, and, full of revenge for some real or supposed in- jury, burst into the hovel of his slumbering neighbour, and, without ever awaking him, plunge the dagger into his breast, while the screaming of women and children only hastens the murderous weapon into their own hearts. Observe the bloody wretch cast an eye of grim delight over the mangled remains of his fellow-mortals, and then return to his home, exulting in the horrid deed. Behold him now holding his hands above his head till they are withered away ; or measuring with his body the length of many leagues ; or wresting his own child from the breast of the trembling mother, and casting it into the merciless flames to appease the wrath of some imaginary malignant deity. See him at last, taken by enemies no less cruel than himself, and thrown into dark loathsomeness, where his flesh is cut away, piece by piece, or agonized with the mortal bite of remorseless serpents. Or see his enemies, impatient for his inmost blood, and wishing to please the god who, they suppose, has delivered him into their hands, cast him alive into the burning pile. See him tossing and writh- ing in the deathful fires. Hear him calling on stocks and stones to come and save him ; or mark him, with stubborn endurance braving his fate, or shuddering in the very last gasp, lest he should fall into the hands of some cruel being which will rejoice in making him eternally wretched. And what mind would venture to follow him further ? ' Where there is no vision the people perish.' THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 73 " Let no one imagine all this a fable. I am not willing to represent misery more miserable than it is. Such or similar events really fill up the life of thousands of our fellow- creatures. And shall a man still retain the name of Christian, and yet look on all this with indifference ? it Were I but to hint to the females in this assembly, how wretched a life the female savage endures — were I to tell them that she is literally the slave of her stupid lord — that, subjected to continual drudgery, without ever enjoying his approving smile, she toils out a life of unmingled bitterness — that when she has laboriously prepared a repast for her sluggish master, however keen her appetite, she must wait till he has fully satisfied himself, and then seem well pleased with the morsel which he condescends to leave — and that, if she happen, in the slightest degree, to offend against his ca- price, torture and death are the immediate punishment in- flicted on the helpless woman — were I to tell them that the condition of their own sex among savages is so truly miser- able, that many women put their female infants to death, lest, by continuing their life, they should entail upon them the wretchedness of their mothers — were I to tell my female hearers further, that such will be the state of their own sex among savages, till the understandings of the men are enlightened by knowledge, and their hearts softened by the mild influences of Christianity — were my female hearers but requested to look on this picture, I am persuaded there is not one among them that has so hard a heart, or that looks with so little contempt on the vanities of life, but would make it possible to convey less or more into the funds of your Society. What one among them would deny herself that delightful task, the sweet satisfaction of elevating the degraded of her 74 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. own sex to that Honourable place in the scale of life, which European women so deservedly enjoy? " In conclusion, I would say that you have much to expect from the general good sense which prevails in your vicinity. Your list of subscribers, as we said, is already very respect- able ; and we trust that those who have hitherto discounte- nanced you will no longer shelter themselves under refuges of lies. To every Christian the heathen are calling, with the voice of ardent entreaty, ' Come over and help us against the armies of eternal death.' And the King of Zion is com- manding all his hosts to go up with him to battle ; and who shall linger behind ? who shall deny himself the honour of the victory ? Who would stop the river of life in its course, and snatch the heavenly manna from the hungry soul ? None, I am persuaded, of those who hear me. They will exert them- selves with all their might, that they may see the darkness of superstition and ignorance dissipated by the effulgence of knowledge and true religion ; that they may see tyranny, oppression, and slavery, with all their relentless abettors, and all their chains and burdens, ' cast into the lake of fire ;' that they may behold hell-nursed vice and horrid war, with all their wastes, and famines, and groans, and weapons of death, thrown down into utter darkness ; while heaven-bred virtue and blissful peace smile over all the earth, with truth and liberty, happiness and immortality, triumphing in their train. Yes, Mr President, they all wish to hail that happy day, when every shadow shall vanish before the Sun of Right- eousness ; when the devil and his angels shall be cast out of the earth ; when ' incense and a pure offering ' shall be presented to Zion's King, from the rising to the setting sun ; when the universal voice of the rational creation shall THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 15 be * Hosanna to the King of Israel ! blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord!' when salvation shall ' triumph gloriously/ ' And peaceful nations own the Prince of Peace.' " If, then, the arrival of this happy era be their great desire, let them be fellow-workers with Christ ; let them cast their mite into his treasury, and they need fear no want of success. Verily, i the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together : for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.' " 76 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. CHAPTER IV. Towards the end of May, Robert wrote what he called a " Discussion on Compositional Thinking," in a letter to a friend. Besides expressing his views on an important subject, indicating the development of his mind, and marking his pro- gress in thinking and writing, it seems calculated to be useful to students, and especially to Scotch students, when, like him- self, accustoming themselves to composition. On this ac- count it is inserted here : — " Moorhouse, May 28, 1821. " Dear Friend, — I have frequently heard you speak of the difficulty of expressing thought clearly and elegantly in lan- guage. This has led me to reflect often on the subject of com- position ; and I have been compelled to differ considerably from the critics on this subject. It is generally found recorded in some corner of every critic's works, ' That he who thinks clearly and elegantly, will not fail to speak and write clearly and elegantly also.' This sentiment, although it has often been promulgated from the critic's tribunal, with all the autho- rity of a Pythian oracle, I am, nevertheless, inclined to con- trovert, nay, even disbelieve. Did every one write his ver- nacular language, it is probable that every one would clearly express what he clearly understood. But if one has spoken the Scotch language for twenty years, and seen part only of THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 77 the English stored up in books, how is it possible that he can write with ease in English ? Would it be just to say that the Scotch farmer was a confused thinker, because he could not describe the beauty of his fields, or the formation of his plough, in the English tongue ? If this would be unjust, it is equally so to arraign the Scotch student's talents, be- cause, in his outset, he expresses himself with sluggishness and perplexity. Every Scotchman who learns to write good English, must first learn, from books, the English lan- guage. In this country the English is a ' dead language : ' it is never used except in studied orations. To write in a language in which we have not been accustomed to think, seems to be the peculiar privilege of the critic. Of this the opinion we have been endeavouring to condemn, is a sufficient proof. Did the Scotch critic submit to the drudgery of thinking, before he pronounced every Scotchman an oaf who could not write easily and correctly in the English tongue, he would probably see reason to lay aside so hurtful an opi- nion. The opinion is hurtful, because many believe what critics say ; and, therefore, many must be thought block- heads who are really not so, and surely this is an injury done to mankind. " The opinion which I have dared to dispute, is, I believe, no new one. There is no doubt that it was in daily circula- tion among the Greeks and Romans ; and among them it was less a lie than it is among us. Some of our addle-headed modern critics have certainly dug the sentiment from the siccaneous heaps of ancient criticism ; and, after dressing it in an English garb, have endeavoured to naturalize it among us. But they should have recollected a favourite maxim of their own, namely, attention to circumstances. The Hymet- 78 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. tian thyme would lose its delicate perfume, were it trans- planted to the climate of Lapland. The Italian vine would yield few grapes on the mountains of Scotland. So an opi- nion, which was true and useful at Rome, might be false and injurious at Edinburgh. " I have said, perhaps, too much on this subject ; but I have spoken at large, because the sentiment under consideration has been long current and of wide circulation. And there is nothing more detrimental to the progress of the student than the belief, that if he cannot express every thing clearly and elegantly in English, he is a confused and feeble thinker. Such an opinion of himself places in his own way a strong barrier to improvement. His spirits are damped and his exertions unnerved, because he imagines he has much greater obstacles to surmount than others, before he can reach a respectable mediocrity ; and a much better excuse if he should shrink back from the path of improvement and honour, and seek shelter in the much-devouring gulf of indolence and oblivion. " After saying so much in opposition to some great men, I shall now say something more in harmony with them. To think correctly, clearly, and elegantly, is absolutely necessary if we would write with ease, perspicuity, and neatness : although the reverse of the proposition will not hold true. Before we can wield the English language with grace and dignity, we must have learned to think in it — a task in which much of the difficulty of composition consists. There are two principles in human nature, which always war against one another — activity and indolence. Activity sets the mind to work, and urges it to continual investigation ; indolence, although it is too feeble a principle ever to lay the mind to- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 79 tally asleep, is yet always endeavouring-, and often too suc- cessfully, to diminish the labour of thinking by hurrying the mind from one object to another, without permitting it to make one thorough investigation. Hence it happens, that so many men arrive at old age with so scanty mental acqui- sitions. The mind will not be lulled to entire rest, because this would be to lull it out of existence. But it is the cus- tom of the herd of mankind, and of many of those who are the head and shoulders above the rest, to leave the contem- plation of an object whenever the contemplation of it has become a task. On a beautiful landscape every one reflects with ease and delight. Every imagination readily represents the mass of objects of which the landscape is composed, and many are content with this confused review of it. The ideas which the landscape has produced in the mind, are not pro- perly formed into words ; at least, the language is of a mixed and barbarous kind. Reflection of this sort is easy, and this is all that indolence naturally permits. But this is not thinking in English. To think in English, the landscape must be made to pass before the mind, not only as a whole, but every object must be viewed in connexion with surrounding objects. We must view the streamlet, leaping down from the rugged mountain, here lost under the embracing luxuriance of the hawthorn, the hazel, or the broom ; there hurrying down the silvery rapid, bursting forth in a beautiful cascade. After you have conducted the waters to the adjoining plain, you must not leave them to wander alone. Nay, the beauty of the fields should be so fascinating as to induce the river to make a thousand meanders, as if unwilling to quit the scene. You must review its daisied sloping banks, richly clad with flocks and herds, grazing in easy joy, or ruminating in safe 80 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. repose. Look to the peaceful shepherd, spreading his list- less length beneath the blooming hawthorn, chanting on his artless reed, or, lost in love, gazing on the limpid stream ; while his dog slumbers at his feet, or snaps at the encroach- ing fly. And a little down the stream, you may venture half to reflect on the reclining form of the youthful shepherdess. A gentle birch might stretch forth its tremulous hands, turn- ing aside the too violent sunbeams from the love-looking face of the guileless maid. Her bosom might heave with kind desires, and her eye long, with hopeful modesty, for the arri- val of her lover. The daisy, the violet, and the cowslip, should smile redundant beauty, the kindest zephyrs regale her with their most delicate perfumes, the lark warble over her head, and the blackbird serenade her from the luxuriant elm. Now you must look at the river constrained between two rocks, boiling and roaring to get free, and then winding peacefully along the level plains and flowery meadows — cul- tivated nature waving richly with the hopes of the husband- man. " Numberless more objects must be thought over, in a landscape of any extent, or beauty, or variety. English words must be found to represent every object, words to bear out the mutual relation and mutual effect, and words to generalize the effect of the whole. This mode of thought I would call compositional thinking. Whoever has taught his mind thus to continue every idea, till its proper representa- tive has been ascertained, has acquired what will soon ren- der his composition correct and expressive. Compositional thinking should not be satisfied with the first word that offers itself for the representation of an idea. The word should be carefully sought which corresponds exactly to the THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 81 idea. Nor should a sluggish arrangement of terms content us. Different forms of collocation should be tried till the sense be not enfeebled or obscured bj the language, nor the language crippled or savaged by the sense. The very con- trary of this very frequently happens in thinking. The mind looks, for a moment, into the object which attracts it, and then hurries to another, leaving a course marked only by confu- sion, scantiness, or vacuity. To think often on trifles is not the duty of a being whose origin is heaven, and whose final retreat should be there. But on whatever we do think, the mind should be kept upon it till every idea suggested has fairly formed itself into English language. To think in this manner is not only the best means of acquiring facility in composition, but discovers whether the object of contempla- tion be despicable or worthy, and informs us what is the value of the ideas suggested. We are thus made acquainted with the exact degree of our knowledge on every subject — an acquaintance which will often mortify pride, but always improve the man. " To compose often formally is certainly the best method of learning to compose well. But to think always composi- tionally is the easiest way of gaining expedition, correctness, and elegance, in formal writing. " Of all kinds of composition, none seems to me more diffi- cult than definite and well-marked description of external na- ture and human character. These are objects on which we have been accustomed to gaze from our earliest years, and we can easily represent them in a kind of barbarous colloquial jargon. But with the legitimate English words which the survey of variegated scenery, or the observation of an inter- esting character, should suggest, we are little acquainted. Of 82 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. philosophical disquisition we have thought sparingly in boy- hood. The genuine language of philosophy is, therefore, learned with philosophy itself. That proper descriptive words may be acquired, it is necessary to see or hear them. Of hearing them in common conversation, we have small opportunity. In the pulpit, professed description of external nature is rare ; and good or bad generally suffices for a character. Preachers say little of costumes, attitudes of body, or expression of countenances. When a more full display of particulars is attempted, the aid of the apostle Paul is generally called in ; and, indeed, his descriptions of general moral character are extremely full and expressive. Still we have almost nothing from the pulpit expressive of the endless shadings of character which men display when they walk, sit, eat, talk, salute, look, laugh, weep, and so forth ; and description of costumes is rarely a necessary part of a sermon. To books, therefore, we must turn if we would make the language of description our own : and we should never read without comparing the copy with the ori- ginal — if the original be within our reach. " Lest I should turn a critic, or what is nearly the same thing, a lecturer on the art of writing, and, like a very bulky class of these critics and lecturers, only display my own frigid stupidity, « I shall stop here,' or, in my own words, close my discussion. « R. POLLOK." This " Discussion," it may be stated in addition to what has been already said of it, is descriptive of his own method of acquiring English, and of his practice and habits in com- position. From his infancy, he was accustomed to hear and THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 83 speak Scotch in common conversation. From his boyhood, however, he read English ; and, in reading it, always acted on an injunction of his father's — never to pass a word which he did not understand without looking it up in a dic- tionary. About his fifteenth year he began to think in Eng- lish ; and at his seventeenth, when he entered on the study of literature, he began to speak it in conversation on all subjects of importance. In going through the Latin and Greek classes at college, he paid particular attention to English in reading, speaking, and writing ; and from the time that he engaged in the study of logic, he betook himself to books to acquire the language fully, in words, pronunciation, and idiom ; " composed often formally," and always " thought compositionally." The following letter, which he wrote to me at the begin- ning of June, will show the kind of books which he was then reading or wishing to read : — " Mr David Pollok, No. 20, Portland Street, Glasgow. " Moorhouse, June 1, 1821. " Dear Brother, — If you would get some books out of the Ethic library for me, on Monday first, you would do me a very great kindesss. I cannot be there when the library opens. Perhaps the librarian wishes the book-getters to at- tend in person. But you can tell the librarian that I cannot attend, and that it would be unjust not to send me books, if my commissioner be trustworthy. Tell him to recollect Mr Mylne's lectures on justice and benevolence. The books shall be kept and returned according to the rules of the library. 84 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " Your librarian will, perhaps, send me three books. I will mention a few : ' Hartley on Man ;' I wish very much to see this book ; ' Robertson's History of India ; ' l Formey's History of Philosophy ; ' and failing these — ' Goldsmith's Animated Nature ;' ' Locke on the Human Understanding ; ' e Harrington's Oceana;' * Aristotle's Art of Poetry ;' 'Pope's Life of Seriblerius,' &c. ; ' Father Malebranche's Search after Truth ; ' < Blackstone's Commentaries ; ' ' Hamilton on Na- tional Debt ! ' &c. " If the good librarian happen to entrust you with a few books to me, I trust you will let me have them by the first opportunity. " Lest you should not think me serious about ' Hartley on Man/ I may mention that a ministerial friend of mine wishes to see it. " I have finished my ' Discussion on Compositional Think- ing.' * You shall have it next week, for aught I know. " R. Pollok." Of the books mentioned in this letter, it appears that I had sent him " Formey's History of Philosophy," and " Gold- smith's Animated Nature;" for his note-books, written at that time, contain an abridgement of the one, and a selection of facts from the other. In the month of July, he made a visit among his friends in Ayrshire, and kept a journal of it, which was the only one that he ever kept. It is written as a letter to his cousin Robert Pollok, and \s very much in the style of his common conversation ; so that it is presumed the following parts of it will not be unacceptable to the reader : — * Inserted immediately before. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 85 " Brief Account of my Peregrinations during the Month of July 1821. " R. POLLOK. "Dear Friend. — On Friday 29th June, I left Moorhouse about seven o'clock in the morning. I set my face towards Horsehill. My father and mother, and some more of my friends, were also going there. They had a horse and cart, and had promised to give me a ride ; but, by some neglect or other, I missed them at the outset. I was now greatly embarrassed. I considered this unlucky beginning as an earnest of my future travels. Superstition and philosophy held a loud debate within me. The former urged, that mis- chances and disappointments in the outset, were nothing but prelibations of deeper distresses in the issue ; and numberless legends were quoted to confirm the assertion. The latter insisted, that the future could be known only by travelling into it ; that the beggar had no reason to despair of getting his alms in the second house because he had found a shut door at the first, as the niggardly and the generous often dwell in the same neighbourhood. I waited some time for the decision of the two contending powers ; but two enemies so potent and inveterate, were not likely to come to a speedy termination of hostilities. What must I do ? To remain at home was contrary to my promises ; to travel through diffi- culties was contrary to my inclination. At this perplexing crisis, it occurred to me, in opposition to the arguments of superstition, that the key had once fallen from my hand into the mire, just when I had locked the door to be absent in quest of a partner for the important business of a concert. On this former occasion, the event had equalled 86 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. my highest wishes ; all had been prosperity and happiness. Together with this strong proof in favour of philosophy, the irresistible light of a Scotch proverb forced itself into my mind — ' Hard beginnings make good endings.' Trusting to the wisdom of my ancestors, I marched on; and in the course of half an hour came up with the cart. I mounted it, and rode to Horsehill. In the mean time, I was suitably admo- nished by my mother, always to ask what road those meant to travel whom I wished to accompany.' " I found my friends at Horsehill all well, except my worthy uncle David. For some years past his body has resembled the vegetable creation : it has decayed in winter, and revived in summer. But the present summer seems to have denied him its nourishing influences. He is much paler than usual, and less of his mortal part remains. He is not melancholy, however. Like the leafless oak, he seems to be decaying with cheerful dignity. " From Horsehill I set out for Greenside.* On my way thither I met my brother David, and my very worthy friend Mr David Marr, who returned with me to Greenside, where I found all my relations in good health : the two elder daughters smiling in all the luxuriance of youth and beauty. The same evening I returned to Horsehill, in company with Margaret Taylor, her sister Marion, and their brothers John and David, together with Mr Marr and my brother. The evening was extremely fine, and my pleasure was greatly heightened by the company in which I was placed. The two ladies in company might not be unfitly compared to Minerva and Venus. Like these goddesses, their beauty might have been a subject of debate. Margaret resembled Minerva, and * A farm-house, possessed by his uncle-in-law. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 87 Marion was a good copy of Venus — only there is nothing of that fieriness about her eyes, which was the ancient cause of so much mischief. " On our way to Horsehill we had occasion to call at a small house, inhabited by a widow-mother and an only daugh- ter. A kind of pleased surprise looked out of the countenance of the good old mother when we entered. There were few chairs in the house, but the mistress observed that she had ' plenty elsewhere.' I was under the agreeable necessity of taking my fair companion on my knee. We were sitting in this truly friendly manner when the daughter entered ; for she had been out tethering a foster-ewe. Her face had the undesigning lamb-like appearance of the animal that she had just left. After a few questions and answers of common-place importance, we left this little habitation of peace. Here I had seen no face strongly marked with the lines of thinking ; but contentment was there. In going out of the house, this passage of King Solomon's forced itself strongly upon my mind : ' He that increaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow.' * And shall I give up the search after knowledge ? ' said I to myself. Something whispered, « No ; for he that increaseth knowledge also increaseth pleasure/ " Converse, pleasing, if not very profound, occupied our time till we arrived at Horsehill. Here we drank tea in company with a number more of our friends. Three of us were students, reputed to be looking forward to the ministry. There were, consequently, a few strokes of wit directed against the money-loving spirit of clergymen ; for this is a subject which wits have long enjoyed. My worthy uncle David was in the company ; and his wonderful stores of know- ledge flowed out, at intervals, with overwhelming sweep. I 88 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. sat and admired, and wished to myself that I could inherit his mental acquirements. ' I would rather have them,' said I, 'than his farm.' Perhaps I was imposing upon myself; but the delusion, if it was one, pleased me. One of my uncle's remarks would be extremely useful were it reduced to practice : ' It is always dangerous, and very often hurtful, to attack personal character.' I returned again to Greenside with my former company. Here I slumbered away the night. " June 30th. — This morning was very fine, and after breakfast, I set out with my friend Mr Marr towards Auch- millan, a little hamlet about two miles from Mauchline. We reached Auchmillan, the dwelling-place of Mr Marr's father, about four o'clock in the afternoon. Here we were soon visited by Mr Opaque ; he is designed for the ministry, and had a sermon in his pocket of his own manu- facturing. After some corporeal refection, I laid myself on bed, and Mr Opaque began to read his sermon. It had a most somniferous influence on me ; but my friend in- sisted that I should prefer a sermon to sleep. The ser- mon, I suppose, was meant to prove original sin; but the truth was, the sermon was too profound for my capacity. The reader seemed very much pleased with what he had written. This was no more than natural ; for it is not more natural for man to love the offspring of his body than the offspring of his mind. But I took the liberty of judging for myself; and I think the sermon consisted of an introduction, three heads, and an application or conclusion. The intro- duction consisted of shadowy irregularity ; the first head was darkness illustrated by obscurity ; the second, opacity ex- plained by rayless blackness ; the third, perplexity illustrated by intricacy ; and the application was ' confusion worse con- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 89 founded ; ' all of which compelled me to conclude, that the author was completely master of that happy knack of writing which requires not the drudgery of thinking. " After this drowsy sermon was ended, Mr Opaque, my friend, and myself, went out to feast for a little on the de- scending day. Mr Opaque made the profound observe, that * it is very difficult to give a good description of the evening ; although there are few that think so.' We entered a belt of firs, and it was immediately proposed that we should all three carve the initial letters of the names of our dearest beloved fair ones on some smooth tree. Mr Opaque objected to this exposure. 'But what/ said we, 'can be better done for them, since the dear creatures are absent?' Mr Opaque was con- vinced, and we began seriously to the work of carving. This piece of great affection being finished, I proposed that we should next carve our own names, making obeisance to the fair ones. This I spoke from the heart, for they were dear valuable letters to which I was to bow. No objection was made to this proposal ; for what will not a youth in love do ? "We now returned to the house, and Mr Opaque departed. Mr Marr's father had come home during our absence from the house, and he now welcomed me to his dwelling by a cordial shake of the hand. This old man is well-informed ; but his knowledge has not made him irreligious. By his practice he persuades powerfully to the fulfilment of the command, * With all thy getting get that wisdom which will make thee wise unto salvation.' " In this place I find myself very comfortable, and from it I am to make my excursions for a few days. "Sabbath, July 1 This day I went with my friend to Mauchline, and heard sermon. The preacher was not very 90 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. profound ; but, in all respects, acquitted himself very much as becomes ' the messenger of peace to guilty men/ " Mr Marr was requested to stay after sermon and super- intend a Sabbath-evening school. This gave me an oppor- tunity of drinking tea with the preacher who had addressed us from the pulpit. He was modest in conversation, and was willing to be instructed as well as to instruct, a disposition not very frequent in clergymen. I heard the scholars of the Sabbath-school examined ; they acquitted themselves toler- ably. The mode of teaching was very good, but too laxly enforced. " Monday, Auchmillan, July 2. — The forenoon of this day I spent in reading and writing. After dinner, I went out with my friend to enjoy the fine day, and to visit some of our neighbours. " Auchmillan, July 3. — This day I spent mostly within doors, in reading, writing, and so on. Nothing remarkable occurred, save that, on the afternoon of this day, I publicly declared to the family here my hatred to all whey. This declaration, although to make it was considerably unplea- sant, has had the desired effect. " Wednesday, July 4 — In company with my friend I left Auchmillan, this morning, for Catrine. We took dinner with Mr Pollok's father and mother; and then proceeded down the Ayr towards Haughholm.* The scenery between Catrine and Haughholm is the most noble which the Water of Ayr exhibits. You have seen this place. I shall not, therefore, attempt to give you any description. The impres- sions which the beauties of Haughholm made on my mind, prevented me from taking almost any rest till they had com- * The house of Mr Ingram, forester to Lord Glenlee. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 91 pelled me to compose a little piece, entitled an * Interview with Ayr Water.' At Haughholm we spent the evening. Nothing can be more pleasant than the polite hospitality of this place. Here we enjoyed the night. " Thursday, July 5. — This morning I opened my eyes again on all the beauties of the banks of Ayr. After break- fast I set out with my friend towards a farm-house about two miles from the Ayr. In the mean time we walked over-arched with oak, and birch, and plane ; and serenaded by all the music of the banks of the Ayr, till we arrived at Barskimming, the seat of Lord Glenlee. All the property of this gentleman bears strong marks of taste ; and the nearer you approach his mansion, the more conspicuous are these marks. Nature has provided him with a situation for a house of the most noble kind ; and the grandeur and taste of the house add dignity to the place. I think Lord Glenlee's library the most beautiful place that I have seen, if we take into consideration the combination of nature and art. The library contains about twelve thousand volumes. The carpet cost a hundred guineas. Every part of the interior is finished in the most elegant manner imaginable ; and three of the windows appear to overhang the Water of Ayr, which is here ornamented as much as large trees, lofty banks, and singing birds can do. " From Barskimming we went to the farm just referred to. This farm, the property of Lord Glenlee, consists of about two hundred acres of excellent land. The dwelling- house is finished out in a style that does honour both to land- lord and tenant. Every person about this house has the look of perseverance. The great wheel , the tenant, is a com- plete farmer. You may have noticed the like in your time. 92 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. He looks always like a man who has a great deal to think about, speaks very seldom, an dscarcely ever smiles. So great is the dignified distance which he maintains towards all the members of his household, that even his own sons, who have arrived at maturity, dare hardly ask him the smallest favour. No authoritative tone accompanies his orders ; for he knows that his slightest command will be punctually obeyed. He is quite civil to strangers ; but to them, as to all others, he has little to say. About the house, he often leans himself to a table, a chest of drawers, or a desk, and picks his teeth. " I have often wondered whether this still, important, and thoughtful behaviour of the big farmer, be natural or studied ; and I have, at last, drawn the conclusion, that it is the natu- ral result of his situation. The man who pays the rent of two or three hundred acres of good ground, must necessarily think some ; therefore he must not always speak. If a man preserve not some distance and dignity, servants will neither respect nor obey ; and when a man has long been accustomed to do so towards servants, it is but natural that he should act in the same manner towards his own sons, when these sons occupy the working situation of farm-servants. Add to all this the natural importance of human nature, the desire which one part of it has to govern another, and you will not be sur- prised at the character of a big farmer. " After this time, Sir, my peregrinations have been either so barren of recordable facts, or I have been so lazy, or so much employed in writing on other subjects, that I shall be compelled to conclude my account of them. I cannot do this, however, without certifying you, that I have submitted, once voluntarily, to a severe infliction from a story of a famous story-teller of the west. From these story-tellers I have THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 93 been long accustomed to fly with great trepidation. But as the relater of this story was one of the most celebrated in all the self-complacent Ayrshire, I ventured to sacrifice my patience in favour of my curiosity. " My dear friend, if ever you should fall in with a story- teller of the kind, which I pray may never be your lot, I beseech you fly from him as you would do from the plague. Let no curiosity prompt you to risk your patience. Let what I have suffered be a warning to you ; and let neither a mile of burning whins nor a boisterous river prevent your escape. " R. Poulok." After concluding this account of his " peregrinations," he had prolonged his stay in Ayrshire till near the end of July ; as appears from the following letter of his to me, respecting the approaching death of his uncle David Dickie of Horse- hill:— " Moor-house, Last Saturday of July 1821. " Dear Brother, — I am just arrived at Moorhouse. I left our uncle David about three hours ago ; and received what I fear shall be the last injunction which 1 shall ever receive from him. Yesterday, he was unable to sit out of bed ; and this day he is still weaker. He is wearing away with re- signed dignity. Although his faith, as I heard him say, is, perhaps, not that of ' full assurance/ yet with humble resig- nation and hopeful confidence he can say, that though his God * slay' him he * will trust in him' — that he shall be 'more than a conqueror through him that loved him.' How solemn, how affectionate, were his admonitions to me ! and you know with what feelings I left him. Never did Young's inter- rogative assertion strike so deeply into my mind — 94 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 1 What is time worth ? Ask death-beds — they can tell.' " I cannot detail, for I am wearied to-night. I have writ- ten a few things, which you will see when you come to Moor- house. Good-night. " R. POLLOK." As his uncle, though his days were yet a little prolonged, still grew weaker and weaker, he soon returned to Horsehill, to see him once more on his death-bed, and ask, " What is time worth ?" While he was there, he wrote me the following short letter, giving me some further account of the state of his dying uncle, and saying a few words respecting himself: — " Horsehill, Aug. 14, 1821. " Dear Brother, — At this moment my uncle is nearly in the same state as when you saw him, only his strength has de- cayed a little. He still enjoys the same noble tranquillity of mind, and the same resignation to the will of his Creator. His mind seems to be more spiritually enlightened than when I formerly saw him. As he advances nearer the promised land, his soul glows with brighter prospects of it. That eternal * rest ' which awaits the righteous, seems already to have embraced his soul ; and, bidding adieu to the mazes of doubt and the damps of unbelief, his countenance is already brightening to the glorious welcome of his Father, * Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' Truly 'the end' of the righteons man 'is peace.' " This afternoon I am going to Greenside, where I expect to meet Miss , together with my cousin R. Pollok, who is at present in Ayrshire. It is probable that I may THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 95 gather something of importance from a meeting of such illus- trious personages. Let the king, poor man, enjoy his courts and levees about Dublin.* " I have not yet spoken to my uncle about leaving Horse- hill ; but it is likely, if he oppose it not considerably, that I shall return to Moorhouse on or before Saturday first. « R. PoLLOK." After the date of this letter, he was not long away at any time from Horsehill, till the death of his uncle David Dickie, which took place on the 11th of the next month. From that, till the end of the vacation, he prosecuted, sometimes at home and sometimes in Glasgow, a desultory kind of study in the miscellaneous reading of Latin, Greek, or English. The only letter, within my knowledge, that he wrote at this period, serving to throw any light on his history and character, was the following one to his cousin Robert Pollok:— " Glasgow, October 19, 1821. " My dear Friend, — I am sitting this moment in my room, No. 20, Portland Street. I arrived just a few minutes ago. You see I have got the lamp lighted, for David is not in. I see some letters lying on the table, addressed to thee. 1 Well,' said I to myself, i thou shalt soon receive them/ " Fortune has not trampled me so much to-day as her cus- tom is ; although I fear she has indulged me with prosperous gales, that she may afterwards the more effectually dash me on her horrid shelves and quicksands. But why should I fear her ? She cannot take back what she has given, for I have enjoyed it * George the Fourth was then on his visit to that city. \)b THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. already ;* and though she should pursue me with all her storms behind, and meet me with all her breakers before, she can only empty my pocket ; but what of that ? While I have a friend, and a heart to love a friend — while the ' Twa Rabs ' can meet, and their souls mingle, and laugh, and triumph together, they will have a shilling to brighten the feast of souls, in spite of her ; a feast of which her niggard favourites never tasted. Let virtue be our guide — let unbending rectitude characterize all our actions ; and if we have moments of sorrow, we shall also have moments of joy. Let the stinted souls, if souls they can be called, that never felt the weight of an empty pocket, linger out their insipid lives. A wave never embroiled the smooth surface of their fate ; and envy them not. ' No, the wild bliss of nature needs alloy ; And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy.' « Thine, " R. PoLLOK." * He here seems to have had in his mind the inimitahle passage in Dryden's Translation of Horace's Ode 29, Book 3 : — " To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day. Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, The joys I have possest, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has power ; But what has heen has been, and I have had my hour." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 97 CHAPTER V. In the beginning of November Robert returned to col- lege for the session of 1821-22, his fifth and last one; and during it he attended the Natural Philosophy class under Professor Meikleham, and the Mathematical one under Pro- fessor Millar. This was, throughout, a session of comprehensive and laborious study. His preparations for the two classes, in which he was regular and diligent, so as to acquit himself to the satisfaction of both Professors, were only a part of his numerous and arduous labours. At the commencement of the session, it was agreed between him and me, that we should take, at the close of it, the degree of Master of Arts ; it being best, he said, to take all that the college could give. Accordingly, while we carried on the study of natural philosophy and mathematics, we made preparations for tak- ing that degree, by returning back to the wide field of lite- rature over which we had already passed at college, and reviewing it in all its extent and bearings. During holidays, eight or ten of which occurred in the course of the session, we read Latin or Greek, almost without intermission, from morning to night ; and in these readings, in which we were joined by our friend Mr David Marr, who lodged in the same house with us, Robert evinced uncommon perseverance, I 98 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. intentness, and endurance — often urging Mr Marr and me to proceed with him, when we were like to fall off our seats from exhaustion. At ten o'clock every night, all the inmates of the house in which we lodged assembled in our room for family wor- ship ; and each student conducted it in turn. When it was over, Mr Marr usually remained with us for an hour or two ; and in our conversation on these occasions, Robert, familiar as we were with his powers, often excited our asto- nishment with what appeared to us the originality of his ideas, the extent of his knowledge, and the enlargement of his views. We knew more difference in him, and saw and felt more of his superiority — more of his comprehension of mind — than we had ever done before ; and our expectations of him were proportionally raised. The subject on which he seemed to like best to talk was the union of philosophy with Christianity. " Why," he asked, " have we not Christian Philosophy — the Philosophy of the Bible — the Philosophy of Christianity?" " Every system of Ethics," he affirmed, " that does not embrace the Christian religion — that is not built on Divine Revelation — must be greatly defective and erroneous." " If a man shall arise," he would exclaim with emphasis, " who shall unite Philosophy and Christianity, and set them forth together in an elegant dress, he will do the world a most excellent service." It was early this session that he came to prefer blank verse to rhyme for a poetical work. Hitherto, it was his intention, if ever he should attempt any thing of the kind, to write in rhyme. To this intention, which he had been led to form partly from early first-love impressions from reading Pope's " Essay on Man," but chiefly from Dr Johnson's THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 99 animadversions on blank verse in his " Life of Milton," Mr Marr and I were strongly opposed ; as we thought blank verse more congenial to his mind, and better suited both to his ideas and modes of expression. At first he put us off with a good-natured smile, or put us down with a stroke of good-humoured satire. But we rallied and persisted. While his attention was turned to the subject, a circumstance occurred which constrained him to try blank verse again ; and he was induced thenceforward to give it the preference. About the New- Year, one of his class-fellows, Mr William Friend Durant, son of an English congregational minister, and a young gentleman of great talents, took suddenly ill, and died. Robert composed a " Monody" on his death, and published it anonymously. Soon after its publication, he happened, one evening when he was in the publisher's shop, to hear a student making some illiberal and envious remarks respecting it. On this, he came straight to his lodgings ; and, after telling me with some warmth what he had heard, sat down to table, and gave vent to his feelings in writing a piece in blank verse " To Envy," extending to fifty lines. From the time that he wrote these, which he did without ever stopping the pen, he thought " blank verse," as he expressed it, " the language of his soul." Early in the session, he set on foot a small Literary Society of students in Philosophy for mutual improvement. It met once a-week, in a school-room in Candlerigg Street ; and at the opening of each meeting, one of the members read or delivered an address as the subject of discussion. To this society, at the opening of one of its meetings in the month of December, Robert read the following essay, which embodies many of his thoughts and opinions — comprises the 100 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. substance of several of his conversations — and gives some idea of the extent of his reading, as well as of his acquaint- ance with classical and scientific literature at the time men- tioned : — "Dec. 14, 1821. " Nor hoarse nor mute, though fallen on evil days, On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues." " It has been long the murmur of those who are too indo- lent for exertion, and of those who have exerted themselves without success, that all has been already acted on the theatre of literature which can inform the understanding, warm the heart, or amuse the imagination. Our early fore- fathers stood on the earth, looked round them, and beheld every thing new and attractive. The wide harvest of mate- rial and spiritual nature waved ten thousand beauties to every eye, and offered as many lessons to every understand- ing. No sickle had been thrust into it. The temptation was irresistible. To reap it down became the luxurious employment of every man of talent ; and, indeed, to every one there was enough, and to spare. Homer cast his com- prehensive and sublimating eye over the rich fields, and appropriated to his own use many a noble shock. The author of the Book of Job, King David, Isaiah, and the other Jewish poets, had their abundant share. The three great tragic poets of the Greeks found sufficient left to them in their days ; and Pindar, Herodotus, Plato, and Xenophon, had no reason to complain. Even behind the Jews and Grecians many handfuls lay scattered for succeeding gene- rations. At this period Roman genius appeared, gathered THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 101 in the unclaimed residue, and, far from being satisfied, spent many of its later years in ransacking and rifling the copious stores of former ages. After the declension of the Roman empire, the labourers in the fields of literature were the Italians, the French, and the English ; and they, like Mephi- bosheth with King David, ate and drank wholly at the table of the ancients : and for a century or two every one seemed to rise satisfied from the repast. By simplifying or com- pounding what was before them, the dexterous had some- times the address to give to the old the relish of novelty. Tasso, Corneille, Spenser, Milton, and Shakspeare, with all the men of genius who lived during the two centuries last past, were among the number who possessed the happy art of sprinkling the old with the relish of the new. They neither starved themselves, therefore, nor suffered their households to perish. But, alas, in what evil days and barren seasons have we been ushered into life ! Not a soli- tary spike rewards the toils of the hungry gleaner. No new assortment or combination can be made to satisfy the mental appetite. The world is left to us desolate. We must either humbly live on the bounties of our ancestors, or hunger away our feeble days in drowsy indolence. Such is the sleepy moan of the sons of sloth, and the bitter cry of little critics. " With whatever neglect or contempt the man who has long exercised his talents for his own good and the pleasure of his fellow creatures, may hear these sluggish murmurs, yet it must be acknowledged that they have sometimes quenched the fire of youthful genius, or, at least, shrouded it for a while from the eyes of mankind. When the youth, whose strong intellectual capacity fits him for contributing 102 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. to the stores of mental provision, hears repeatedly told what mighty men lived in former ages — that this and that man of overwhelming name has been before him, and written of every thing — that the single Stagyrite, of matchless mind, wrote on almost every subject with which men are conver- sant — is not the youth likely to start back from the hallowed ground, and curse the very thought which had almost brought him into comparison where he would have lost so much ? I do not suppose that this magnifying of antiquity will awe into silence the itching scribbler, or finally check the pro- gress of that spirit which has been taught by its Maker to trust more its own observations on the past and present, than the report of all the living ; yet fear may, for a season, enfeeble its energy, or diminish its lustre. " The best way of banishing fear is to remove the object of terror. In regard to the philosopher, the historian, and the moralist, the removing of this object of dread will be no difficult task ; nor will many of its terrors remain when the poet approaches it. " The youth, who finds his lot has destined his temporal existence to the nineteenth century, and granted him, at the same time, a patient and vigorous philosophical spirit, will soon discover that he has nothing to fear from the lateness of his arrival, or the labours and renown of his ancestors. He may yet benefit society, and encircle his temples with unfading laurels. If he is captivated with the philosophy of mind, the object of his desire remains still in comparative darkness. Aristotle said much about the soul, but he said little that was intelligible. Many centuries after him were quibbled away in endeavouring to explain what had, per- haps, never any meaning. Heaven, in mercy to mankind, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 103 sent Bacon ; and, since his time, the powers and operations of the human mind have been considerably unveiled. But the mind is even to-day seen with the shadowy uncertainty of a distant object in the twilight. One philosopher distin- guishes the mind into a great many independent original powers. Another, more sparing of his divisions, contents himself with three or four. One draws a laborious line of demarcation between the dominions of reason and passion, housing the first in the head and the second in the breast. To the former, he ascribes all the more cool, hesitating, and noble actions of man ; to the latter, together with a host of animal and mechanical principles, he assigns all more pre- cipitate, stupid, and foolish actions. Another philosopher gives reason the credit of all human exertion, and informs his readers, that were reason never seduced by circumstances, all the vehemence and rage of what is generally termed pas- sion, would never be able to urge a human being into a single foolish deed. Mental philosophers are at no less variance about liberty and necessity, as well as the standard of moral rectitude ; and even the limits of virtue and vice are but ill defined. When opinions are so various, and judgments so contradictory, there is room to doubt that the truth has not yet been unveiled. Here, then, is a field where the philosophic mind may exert all its energies ; and, if it is successful, the importance of the truths discovered will secure an abundant and lasting reward. Who would not cherish the memory of that man as a benefactor to his race, that had so satisfactorily ascertained the powers and opera- tions of the mind ; the distinction or identity of reason and passion ; the springs of action ; the standard of virtue, and the limit, in all cases, between virtue and vice ; — that on all 104 THE LIFE OF EOBERT POLLOK. these interesting subjects no diversity of opinion existed ; and that, as soon as the youth began to enquire into mind, his instructor might be able to prove to him the truth on all these topics as clearly and irrefragably as the natural philosopher can demonstrate that all the interior angles of any triangle are equal to two right angles ? Every one, I say, who brings man a step, or prepares him for taking a step, nearer this noble purpose, sheds another beam of light on the human race, and deserves their lasting gratitude. Nor is it to be supposed, after all present difficulties in regard to mind are cleared away, that the mental philosopher will be born in vain* New light will discover new fields and new imperfections. These will demand the energies of genius to explore, clear, and cultivate. Perfection seems not to be designed for earthly man. Although the present generation should display all that seems, at this moment, dark in mind, the next would have as much to explain, and the explanation of it would, perhaps, be as desirable and useful. " If the youth of genius is fascinated with the majestic charms of natural philosophy, the fields which have been but partially visited, and the wilds where never trode the foot of man, are numerous and widely extended. Within the last century the steady progress of natural science encourages greatly the efforts of investigation. Pythagoras first gave the hint that the sun is the centre of the solar system ; Copernicus renewed and published the opinion ; and Galileo enlarged the means of proof. But it was not till the great Sir Isaac Newton shone on earth that the properties of the rays of light, and the all-commanding influences of gravita- tion, were disclosed to the minds of mortals. At that illus- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 105 trious era, the veil was removed from the face of the heavens, and the arm of the Almighty was seen actuating, sustaining, and regulating the harmonious revolutions of countless worlds. Earth was no longer conceived to be a sedentary prisoner, fettered to some point of space, but contemplated with all her mountains, seas, and shaggy forests, wheeling round the central fire — accomplishing, by her own motion, the succession of day and night, and the vicissitude of seasons ; and joining the planetary symphonies in praise to Him who made and who guides the whole. After all, how little is known of material creation ! The further we advance the wider the prospects, and the more numerous the objects to attract attention and exercise ingenuity. The invention of the tele- scope has shown us enough of other worlds to excite a desire of better acquaintance. And may not the perspicacity and exertion of genius, by modifying and combining matter, so invigorate the telescopic eye, that not only the bodies which compose our system shall be made fully to disclose their properties, uses, and inhabitants, but even the fixed stars shall in vain seek the far back recesses of space to elude human investigation ? The invention of the telescope at all, was little expected a thousand years ago. In like manner, the improvement of the microscope may yet disclose pro- perties of matter which we are, at present, unable to conceive. The chemist, botanist, mineralogist, and anatomist, have done much to increase the enjoyments of mankind. But in their dominions there is yet much doubtful, much wanting, and much to be removed. The external conveniences of life may be increased ; and the causes and seats of diseases, which have hitherto baffled the sagacity of physicians, and given over their victims untimely sacrifices to the unrecom- 106 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. pensing grave, may be discovered ; from the hidden stores of nature, the victorious medicine may be extracted, and the goodly human frame may yet smile at the menaces of a dis- ease which, at present, inevitably crushes it to dust. In every part of nature the harvest is plenteous, but the labourers have been few. Whoever, therefore, feels the spirit of inves- tigation vigorous within him, has sufficient on which to expend all its energies, and that without loading the lower biblio- thecal shelves with prodigious but undisturbed folios, on the essence of the human mind, animal spirits, vibratory nerves, elastic ether, the infinite divisibility of matter, or its ultimate particles. " Room for the talents of the historian was never more un- confined. It is the province of the historian to record the trans- actions of mankind — to display the dark places of politics — describe the characters of eminent individuals, and the strong biases and general dispositions of nations ; to delineate the various appearances of the globe — its inhabitants, rational and irrational — its climates and productions ; and to do all this so as to please and instruct his own and future generations. And at what period of past ages was the demand for facul- ties to accomplish this purpose more urgent than it is at this moment ? Has not the face of Europe, during these twenty years last past, been every day agitated with transactions peculiarly fitted to blazon the page of history, and instruct posterity ? If a mortal should happen to make his appear- ance in this age, with the profound penetration of Tacitus or Hume, the narrative powers of Livy, and the character- drawing talents of Sallust, he may congratulate himself on having arrived at a period when all his abilities may be largely exerted in benefiting his fellow-creatures, and THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 107 gathering honour to himself. It will require all his pene- tration to unravel the complicated and heavy policy of Europe, weary all his rapidity and skill of narration to record the number and magnitude of events, and exhaust all his vigour and versatility of description to display the great- ness and variety of character. All the past is, in some degree, the property of the historian. If his ancestors have missed any thing worthy of remembrance, or left any thing in dubious circumstances, by recording the first and certify- ing the latter, he confers a'benefit on the world. The want of a complete history of Scotland testifies that the historian has no reason to deplore want of employment, but that Scotland has cause to lament she has produced so few his- torians. In short, at whatever watch the man possessed of historical talents ushers into life, he can never want room for their exertion. The mazy wheels of empire never cease their rapid revolution. Fortune casts the joyous beams of liberty on one nation, and obscures another with the heavy and melancholy clouds of oppression. The lowly ambitious are ever racking their murderous jaws to devour their brethren ; and the patriotic soul will still nobly labour to snatch the unlawful prey from the Polyphemian mouth, and starve the monster to death. Every sun that rises reveals to men something formerly unnoticed among the multitude of things ; some portion of the globe previously unexplored ; some mineral which, till then, was never dragged from its dark recess ; or some herb which had hitherto looked up in vain to attract the eye of man : and all these discoveries call for the powers of the historian to marshal and array them for the review of every succeeding generation. " The moralist, or the philosopher of morals, can never 108 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. appear on the coast of life unseasonably. True, man has been often told, that obedience and love to his Maker, jus- tice, and benevolence, and gentleness to his fellow-creatures, and temperance, prudence, and fortitude, exercised in regard to himself, secure his honour and happiness in every stage of existence ; and that a conduct the reverse ultimately covers him with shame, and casts his naked soul into the weltering lake of fire, where Remorse for ever hisses, and Despair for ever howls. Noah, Job, and Solomon, Seneca, Hall, Young, Addison, and Johnson, have all taught that wisdom excelleth folly as far as light excelleth darkness ; that he who does most good is the happiest ; and that he who perpetrates the most evil is the most miserable. These great men, and others of kindred genius, had their effect, in their own times, in sobering the folly and humanizing the barbarism of the stout-hearted sons of Adam. And, in our day, the influences of their preaching continues to persuade the simple from the inheritance of folly. But every age has its peculiar eccentricities in vice, its ill-will at some par- ticular virtue. In one age, folly puts forth his uncouth branches, where, at another period, not a sprout was seen. Our eyes are not now feasted, as the Romans on the arena, with the potent struggle of the two lords of the creation — the man and the lion. But, then, we more unnaturally banquet on the gashed features and bloody breast of the pugilist ; and our ears are still soothed with the dying groan of the mortal dueller. We have now no Puttenham, that I know of, giving rules to poets how to hammer their poetical brains into the shape of eggs, turbots, fusees, and lozenges. The alliteration of the sixteenth century, and the euphuism of Lilly, have brawled and mewled themselves into long, last- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 109 ing, Lethean repose. But, then, we have still critics, whose addle brains and stony hearts would quench the unquench- able fire of a Kirke White : we have still poets more dear to sound than sense ; and rhymers who make the woods of Madeira tremble and shudder more at the kiss of two lovers, than at the full discharge of the thunder of Omnipotence. " Wisdom, like the natural food of man, calls for a long and assiduous culture ; but folly, like the mushroom, springs up in a night, and spontaneously luxuriates to its motley perfection. Although every germ of folly, which lifts its head above the surface to-day, were cut down, a new harvest of tares would cover the fields to-morrow. Every moment, therefore, calls for the moralist, with his sickle in his hand, to cut down these cumberers of the ground. Satire has been always in use among moralists ; and, perhaps, no weapon is fitter for lopping off the little oddities of men. But every age has need of its satirists. The fools of this age turn themselves away from the whetted edge on which their brethren of the last generation fell. It requires a skilful moral warrior ever at hand, therefore, to draw folly from all its lurking-places, meet it in all its rambling and blustering manoeuvres, surprise it in all its strong fortresses, and direct the sword of truth home to its breast. " Let the philosopher of morals arrive when he may, only let him take his seat high on the imperishable battlements of virtue, and cast his comprehensive eye down on the vast changing world below — let him observe its windings and shadings, the noise, the hurry, and the jostling — let him glance deep into the workings of the human heart, and examine the state of pride and envy, hatred and fear, of love, joy, compassion, and hope, which inhabit there — and he will 110 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. hear duty calling him to lift up his voice, and teach the people knowledge. He will see a thousand festering vices to eradicate, and a thousand languishing virtues to cherish and invigorate. Nor shall understanding put forth her voice in vain, ' The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies.' Where, then, is the moralist of the nineteenth century ? Let him not think he is cast on a desert, or gifted with powers only to inform him that he has nothing to employ them with. At whatever time the gardener enters his garden, he sees some presumptuous branch to be lopped off, some feeble plant to be supported, some sickly flower to be watered, or some insolent weed to be eradicated. So, at whatever hour the moralist looks abroad on the human family, he sees some strong vice to be torn up ; some oddity in dress, in speech, in food, or in amusement, to be reprimanded or ridiculed out of countenance ; some latent virtue to cherish and com- mend ; some truth to display and enforce. The wiser and more numerous the writers on morality and decorum are, the more vigorous and extensive will be the spread of huma- nity and goodness. And happiness is the fruit of goodness, and always in proportion to it. To the man of talent innu- merable modes of rendering virtue attractive, and powerful to convince, will occur. She may hover on the wings of fancy, and suddenly alight on the wandering mind. She may borrow the garb of fable, or steal into the heart through a vision of the night. She may look with a countenance all mercy and beauty, and allure us by the purity and harmony of her charms ; or she may gather her face into a frown, brandish the sword of justice in her hand, and prostrate the proud heart by the terrors of her wrath. The following THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. Ill from Solomon may be considered a beautiful allusion to the various ways in which virtue may be enforced : — ' Doth not wisdom cry, and understanding put forth her voice ? She standeth in the top of the high places, by the way in the places of the paths. She crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors/ " If there be yet a plentiful harvest inviting the philosopher, the historian, and the moralist, and promising them a rich reward, are there not also subjects of song and immortal wreaths, tempting the poet to take hold of the harp, and fling his tender hand across the strings of harmony ? The early poets, it is said, have taken possession of the most striking objects of nature, and their works are, therefore, more vigorous and sublime than those of later bards. Whether this long-received opinion may not be rather imaginary than real, there is room for doubt. Poets were posting themselves in the strong places of nature during thousands of years anterior to Milton ; and yet, without copying the images or thoughts of his predecessors, he con- founds us with a vastness and sublimity of idea and compari- son, before which almost every former poet must veil his head as the stars at the approach of the sun. Homer's heroes fling from their hands stones which two men, in the late ages of degeneracy, could not lift. Milton's heroes take the mountain by its piny tops, and toss it against the enemy. At the name of Shakspeare, the bards of other years fall down in deep prostration, and abjure the name of poet. In strength of expression, these two archangels in poetry stand aloft, like the star-neighbouring Teneriffe among the little islands that float on the Atlantic surge. If the verse of Milton be less melodious than that of Homer and Virgil, 112 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. it is because the language in which he wrote was unsuscep- tible of equal harmony. In like manner, were we to compare the lyric poets of modern Europe with those she produced in ancient days, the comparison would not be so unfavourable to our own times as has been often imagined. " But were we to confine the comparison to the poets of one nation — were we to compare the early English poets with those of our own time, it has been often said we would lose by the comparison. ' The early poet lays hold of the most mag- nificent objects of his own country, and leaves to those who come after him in the same nation the more feeble images of beauty and elegance.' Excepting a very few of the early English poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton — which two last, by the bye, can scarcely be called early poets — generally speaking, it must be admitted that our primitive bards have irregularity, wildness, and extravagance on their side ; and, with these accomplishments, they fail not to° attract numerous admirers. But is it not probable that many admire these qualities because they come down to them with a thousand mighty names vouching their excel- lence ? But why did these men of intellectual might praise what is not now deserving praise ? It may be easily answered, that the wise men in the ages when the early poets wrote, were pleased almost necessarily with what pleased the poets themselves. They had seen nothing better of the kind : no unfavourable comparison could, therefore, be made. In the following age, there would be some who would think that wisdom perished with their fathers. These, seeing nothing worth commendation in their own time, would applaud what had been praised in the preceding age. And these discontents might even have a name to live among the THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 113 men of their day. They would, therefore, have followers in every succeeding age, till the list would become so nume- rously respectable, that for one to refuse to add his name to it would be taken as a proof of his want of taste, or, perhaps, of his total destitution of common sense. Thus every one, who believes in the report of those who have gone before him, and who dislikes the name of fool, opens the work of an early poet with the determination not to close it, till, in spite of his own judgment, he has seen perspicuity in darkness, grace- ful negligence in stiff debility, harmony in discord, and con- sistency in confusion. Nor must he quit the page till he has learned to keep his countenance at the lowest vulgarity, and most shameless obscenity, which he must persuade himself is no more than honest frankness. It is necessary, also, that he discover the smoothness, beauty, elegance, and consistency of the modern bard to be as unfit to unite with them gran- deur and vigour, as the green withes of Gaza were unfit to bind the unshaven son of Manoah. What we determine to believe is believed on little evidence ; and the respective merits of the early and later poets of a nation are thus settled. " In extravagance, and boldness of metaphor and allegory, there is often, no doubt, much to be admired. And in our early poets these attractions are eminently conspicuous. Take an example from Langlande, a celebrated poet, and a contemporary of Chaucer. Langlande, in his ' Visions of Pierce Plowman, or Christian Life/ makes the power of grace confer upon Pierce Plowman four stout oxen to culti- vate the field of truth : these are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John; the last of whom is described as the gentlest of the team. She afterwards assigns him the like number of stots or K 114 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. bullocks to harrow what the Evangelists had ploughed ; and this new-horned team consists of Saint or Stot Ambrose, Stot Austin, Stot Gregory, and Stot Jerome. In another early English poet we find all the human intestines personified. With these, and similar efforts of strength, the lovers of the bold are wonderfully regaled. " By these remarks I mean not to ridicule all or any one of the early British bards : they wrote with the skill and taste of their times. Chaucer and Spenser wrote above their age ; and they will ever be dear to him who reads them with the feeling of a poet. Even in the works of the most perverse and absurd bards of the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, many flowers lift their fair forms on the wide wastes of nonsensical extravagance. And I would reverence a spark of poetic fire should it glimmer through the crevices of the rubbish of a world. But, after all, I may be pardoned for indulging a smile at him, who, in the nineteenth cen- tury, with more knowledge, and better means for improving his taste, pretends to discover beauty in deformity, and easy connexion of parts in chaotic uproar. Poets could yet tune the harp to absurdity and extravagance, but who would listen ? In the times of ignorance, nonsense was winked at. But in the day it is certainly a horrible perversity of taste to prefer the waxen apple, because, in the night, it felt as smoothly as the real fruit. " Quitting this unholy comparing of poets who have done all according to the gift received, it will be sufficient to know that they have left behind them subject of noblest song, and laurels of immortal verdure to crown him who may be so happy as to gain the favour of the coy Sisters. And I think the very nature of poetry excludes the possibi- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 115 lity of its subjects ever being exhausted. To please, to excite interest in existence, is the aim of poetry in general. By his success in this we ascertain the poet's merit, or the ' life of life which is in him.' If he warm the affections, delight the imagination, and awe the understanding ; and if the general tendency of his work be moral, it matters not whence he choose his subject, or by what means he attain his purpose. Other writers are confined by the boundaries of truth ; but the poet has the boundless regions of fancy before him. Nearly three thousand years ago, Homer reached forth his careless hand, and pulled, from the party-coloured fields, many a fair flower. Since his time, many have made excursions into the wild territories of imagination, and brought home with them abundant spoils. But her fields are rich as ever. The flowers which bloom there, though plucked to-night, will grow up ere to-morrow. Over the lawns of Fancy, Flora, with the rose and lily in her hand, for ever walks ; while Zephyrus breathes soft life on her cheek, and drops the dews of vegetation from his southern locks. " It is not so much the subjects, however, for the employ- ment of talent and genius, that are supposed to be exhausted, as the language for treating these subjects. Language, if we are to believe in the critics, has sold off absolutely with- out reserve. Before a critic can take a degree — that is, before he is licensed to condemn, if he pleases, all the pro- ductions of mind, of his own age at least — he must produce certificates that he has read all the books of note in the ancient Greek and Latin languages, and the few that are worth reading in the tongues of modern Europe ; provided he can make affidavit, at the same time, that he understood none of them. Now, as soon as a man of genius gives a 116 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. production to the world, all the critics, from the Pillars of Hercules to the mountains of Aura, more terrible than that *****' pitchy cloud Of locusts ****** That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung,' gather round the unwary stranger ; and, as long - fasted Arctic bears gore and devour the carcass of some hap- less shipwrecked seaman, so the host of critics mangle and guzzle up the infant production ; and if, in ruminating — for their first feeding is so voracious, that relishes are all alike — they taste a phrase, figure, or comparison, which they ever chewed before, the author is immediately condemned as a thief or a robber ; and theoretic punishment, and some- times practical, awarded according to the critical offence of the crime. Of the modern poet, that figure or simile is traced to Homer, or to some other of the bards beyond the dark ages. Of the historian, this elegant mode of narration is brought down from the mouth of Livy, and that brief description warmed by the fiery energy of Tacitus. So far has this lust of finding every thing in the ancients driven some of our modern critics, that when no parallel to a modern passage under review can be wrung from the writings of anti- quity, it is proved, at least by a critic's proof, that the same plan or style would have been adopted by some ancient had he had the same subject to treat. A very learned philological professor was heard to point out several passages in the his- torical works of Dr Robertson, in the writing of which, although no parallel exists to them in Livy, the Scotch his- torian saw how that illustrious Roman would have expressed himself had he had occasion to handle the same subject. To perceive how Livy would have expressed himself on what THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 117 he has left no specimen, and to know that Robertson first supposed how Livy would have done, and then copied the supposed manner, displays, no doubt, great perspicacity ; but the quick-sighted sometimes overlook the truth. Per- sian sibyls and Thessalian sorcerers pretended to see the shadows of coming events, which were never revealed to man ; and may not these our retro-seers have made some mistake in consulting the dark entrails of the past ? Cer- tainly no historian has written with more success than Livy ; but when we are told how he would have done what he never attempted, it reminds us of the fond mother who enter- tains us with an account of the many attractive graces and brilliant virtues which would have characterized her son had he not died in the cradle. That the men of genius, who lived anterior to the snaky reign of syllogisms, have left to us, their posterity, a bequest of inexhaustible value, would be unjust as well as unnatural to deny. But this, instead of shallowing or enfeebling the current of language, deepens and invigorates it. Language, as has been said of Dryden's genius, is ' strengthened by action, and fertilized by produc- tion.' A writer, in the infancy of language, is like the savage, who, embarking with his little canoe near the moun- tainous source of a river, is continually impeded and endan- gered by shallows, rocks, and cataracts ; while the author, writing in the maturity of speech, may be resembled to the sailor who, after the river, deepened and widened by many a tributary stream, has left the shelvy mountain, and smoothed its rugged current into an even flow, launches his stately bark, and, neither arrested by shoals nor menaced by rapids, rides along with graceful dignity. Every one who writes well leaves an inheritance to his successor, which will eDable 118 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. him to write better, if his natural talent equal that of his ancestor. Milton, in his * Paradise Lost,' has availed him- self of the idiom and manner of almost every language of note ; and, by this means, he often gives a dignity and har- mony to his verse, which could not have been compassed by one situated less favourably for an acquaintance with lan- guage. Had the spirit of Chaucer entered our world poste- rior to Dryden, the author of the ' Canterbury Tales ' would have displayed his genius in happier shades, happy as they are. " * But,' says the critic, < you must admit that allusions, figures, similes, and ideas are exhausted. We find the same ideas, figures, and so forth, in one author that we see in another. There is nothing but plagiarism going on now-a- days.' Nothing would be more surprising than not to find a similarity of idea, and even sometimes near coincidence of expression, in authors who write on the same or similar sub- jects, and in like circumstances. The ground which yielded wheat two thousand years ago, will yield it at this day if cultivated in the same manner ; and the wheat that waves on the margin of the Thames, is not very unlike that which cheers the heart of the American husbandman. So what a Grecian thought might be thought by another in the same age, though divided from the Greek by half the globe; or the same thing may be thought by one placed in the Greek's circumstances, even now after Greece has ceased to think for two thousand years. " Nor is it necessary that an author should copy figures or comparisons, that they may be the same with those of prior writers. The same train of thinking will often lead to the same figures and similitudes. It was very customary with THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 119 the ancient poets to compare the brave, proud, enraged warrior, rushing on his foe, to the angry lion taking ven- geance on some rebel subject, or impelled by hunger to destroy. But we are not to suppose from this, that one of these poets copied another. The similarity of the warrior to the lion is a part of nature, and alike the property of every one. What has been said of this comparison may be said of innu- merable more. They are suggested by a similar train of thought to men in the same and in different ages. " As to the philospher and historian, the searching and recording of truth is their chief aim ; and the best histo- rians and philosophers are sparing of ornaments. Truth requires no trappings. But always when a philosopher dis- covers a formerly-unknown truth, it will suggest something new for illustration, or some new shading of what has been used for illustration before ; and the comparison of the historian will ever keep pace with the march of events. Every new transaction which is recorded by the historian, and every discovery which is made in science, gives another subject of allusion and illustration to the moralist and poet. How much have these two classes of writers availed them- selves of the discoveries in astronomy ? Every day the most beautiful allusions and comparisons are made, which could not be made at an earlier period. Milton compares the shield of Satan to the moon seen through the Tuscan glass ; but he could not have made the comparison had he lived before Galileo. Nor could he have said, * * ' the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great ammiral, were but a wand,' compared to the spear of the arch-fiend, had he lived at a time 120 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. when the sound of the axe was never heard in the forests of Norway. It is needless to multiply examples. " That every simile used by the poet should be new, is not necessary. It is sufficient that he compare or describe from his own observation ; and then his work will entertain. The same idea may be represented in a hundred dresses, and yet in all be pleasing". " The following quotations, from some of the most emi- nent poets, descriptive of the sun's rising, will confirm what we have said. "'The morning sun,' says the royal poet of Israel,' 'is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.' " Homer sings : ''HXV2 (ASV KgOKOWTT'hOS sxfivctTO Troiaoiu lie CMC&V.'' Englished by Pope : ' Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.' " And Virgil : ' Oceanum interea surgens Aurora reliquit.' And again : ' Jamque rubescebat radiis mare, et sethere ab alto, Aurora in roseis fulgebat lutea bigis.' " George Peele, an old English poet, says : 'As when the sun attired in glistering robe, Comes dancing from the oriental gate, And, bridegroom-like, hurls throughout the gloomy air His radiant beams.' THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 121 " In Sylvester, a poet prior to Milton, we have : 1 Arise betimes, while the opal-coloured morn, In golden pomp, doth May-day's door adorn.' " The Bard of Paradise sings : ' Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl.' And again: c Now morn, Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand, Unbarred the gates of light.' " Parnell says : 1 At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals, the zephyrs play ; Fresh o'er the gay parterre the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring woods to banish sleep.' Again : * But now the clouds in airy tumult fly, The sun emerging opes an azure sky.' " Nor, after all this, is the variety of description exhausted. Listen to Thomson : ' The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews, At first faint gleaming in the dappled east, Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow, And from before the lustre of her face, White break the clouds away ; with quickened step, Brown night retires.' And again the same Poet of the Year : ' But yonder comes the joyous lord of day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow, Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad.' L 122 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Burns, speaking of his Mary, tells us of his joy — ' Till too, too soon the glowing west Proclaimed the speed of winged day.' " Here the critic would cry out, ' Where is the soul that would yet attempt to vary the description of the sun's morn- ing approach ? ' But does Henry Kirke White, though but a boy when he died, betray any folly in the following lines, when speaking, I think, of contemplation ? — ' I will meet thee on the hill, Where with printless footstep still, The morning in her buskin grey Springs upon her eastern way.' And again : ' Lo ! on the eastern summit, clad in grey, Morn, like a horseman girt for travel, comes, And from his tower of mist, Night's watchman hurries down.' " The following passages bring before the mind the most sublime of all ideas — the Almighty walking on the winds and tempests. " The two immediately following are from the Psalms of David : ' He bowed the heavens also, and came down : and darkness was under his feet. And lie rode upon a cherub, and did fly ; yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind.' Again : 'Who maketh the clouds his chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind.' Virgil in the ninth Book of the iEneid, says : THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 123 ' Quara multa grandine nimbi In vada precipitant ; cum Jupiter, horridus austris, Torque t aquosam hiemem, et coelo cava nubila rumpit.' And Shakspeare : ' Bestrides the lazy-paced clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air.' Pope, giving us the same idea, says : ' Not God alone in the still calm we find ; He mounts the storm, and rides upon the wind/ And Addison: ' Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm.' Thomson, speaking of the wintry uproar, says : ' All nature reels ; till nature's King, who oft, Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, And on the wings of the careering wind, Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm ; Then straight, air, sea, and earth, are hushed at once.' " Henry Kirke White shows that the description may be yet varied ; ' Stern on thy dark-wrought car of cloud and wind, Thou guid'st the northern storm at night's dead noon : Or on the red wing of the fierce monsoon, Disturb'st the sleeping giant of the Ind.' Again he says : * God of the universe ! Almighty one ! Thou who dost walk upon the winged winds, Or with the storm, thy rugged charioteer, Swift and impetuous on the northern blast, Eldest from pole to pole.' " In his ' Clifton Grove/ the same youthful poet has the 124 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. following", which, although it has been blamed, has in it one idea bolder than any which I have quoted : ' Here would I run, a visionary boy, When the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky ; And, fancy-led, beheld the Almighty's form, Sternly careering in the eddying storm.' " In the subsequent passages, worth, which lingers out its days in obscurity, or excellence cut off by untimely death, is compared to the desert flower which never smiles to the eye of man ; or to the early flower blasted by frost or tempest. Ossian, speaking of himself, sings : ' Why did I not pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on the blast ?' Gray, lamenting the obscure fate of genius, says : " Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air.' And Ogilvie, speaking of retired innocence, has these verses : ' The lily, screened from every ruder gale, Courts not the cultured spot where roses spring ; But blows neglected in the peaceful vale, And scents the zephyr's balmy-breathing wing.' In the s Scottish Probationer,' a lover, after telling of his mistress who died in all the bloom of youth and love, has these lines : ' You've seen the lily's bosom spread, Pure as the mountain -drifted snaw, An' sighed to see its sickly head Amang the leaves condemned to fa'.' And Henry Kirke White, after singing of the vanity of youthful hope, says : ' So in those shades the early primrose blows, Too soon deceived by suns and melting snows ; THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 125 So falls untimely on the desert waste, Its blossoms withering in the northern blast.' " The beauty of these passages will, I trust, apologise for their number, which might yet be greatly increased. And who that has a soul, which can expand to let in beauty, and gran- deur, and sublimity, would wish one of them blotted from the page of poetry ? or who, that knows the power of a spirit warmed with celestial fire, will say that the ideas expressed in these passages, cannot be yet expressed so as to give a new, and a wider, pleasure to the mind of man ? The sic- caneous critic, or the meagre scribbler, may hang down his little head in despair, and murmur out, that what can be done is done already. But he who has drunk of Castalia's font, and listened to the nightly voice of the Parnassian Sisters ; who casts his bold eye on creation, inexhaustible as its Maker, and catches inspiration while he gazes ; will take the lyre in his hand, delight with new melody the ear of mortals, and write his name among the immortal in song." In this essay, as will be noticed, his strong predilection to poetry unequivocally appears from the comparatively large space allotted to it, and the whole strain and spirit of the writing about it ; from occasional expressions respecting it ; from the extent and variety of illustration brought to bear on it ; and from the acquaintance manifested with the subject. This, as it is easy to see, he considered his own department, and his proper sphere of operation — the field where he was to labour, and where he was to reap his harvest. When he wrote the essay, he had read with close attention the prin- cipal British poets, early and modern ; and already, as may be inferred, he was contemplating " subject of song," and 126 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, aspiring after " immortal wreaths, tempting the poet to take hold of the harp, and fling his tender hand across the strings of harmony." In the month of March, he passed, along with his friend Mr James Lambie and myself, the usual examination for the degree of Master of Arts ; and in the end of April, at the close of the session which concluded his classical curricu- lum, he received, with us and a number more, the degree in due form. It may be mentioned, that there are preserved eleven essays which he wrote for the Natural Philosophy class, averaging rather more than four quarto pages a-piece ; to- gether with an octavo volume of notes, extending to seventy pages, which he took from the lectures of the Professor. For the Mathematic class he wrote no essays ; but there are preserved eight thin octavo volumes of notes, amount- ing to a hundred and eighteen pages, which he took down from the Professor's lectures, embracing Geography, Alge- bra, Logarithms, Trigonometry, and Conic Sections. During the session, he had some intention of starting, at the close of it, a literary periodical in Glasgow, to gain something by his pen. He had spoken to Mr Marr and a few others, about contributing to it, and had himself pre- pared some materials for it: but he went no further with it, mainly, if not solely, on account of his health. Eight or ten papers of his materials for it remain. Two of them pos- sess extrinsic interest : they are both on the same topic, are founded on the same motto, and were written nearly at the same time, but are so different in form and expression, as scarcely to appear to be composed by the same person. They are curious, therefore, as showing how differently he could THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 127 write on the same subject. On this account it seems proper to insert them here. They are as follow : — " ' Rectius occupat Nomen beati, qui deorum Muneribus sapienter uti, Duramque callet pauperiem pati, Pejusque leto flagitium timet.' Horace. " No saying is more common than that happiness is un- attainable on earth by mortal man. This truth is revealed alike by reason and revelation. After the transgression of the first man, the voice of the Almighty was heard in Para- dise, saying to Adam, ' Cursed is the ground for thy sake : in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.' Job found, in his days, that ' man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.' After the great moralist Solomon had tried all the pleasures which wealth and honour could give, the heavenly judge in his breast pronounced them all * vanity and vexation of spirit.' Whether it is the aim of a man to add heap to heap, or to gather that he may squander away in criminal pursuits, his thirsting after more will still destroy his peace. The desires of man, like the grave, never say they have enough. On the very bowl of the voluptuary, ' repentance rears her snaky crest,' and want and remorse start up in his troublous slumbers. When the deep-sunk eye of the earth- grasping miser would cheat his watchful soul, and close itself in a moment's needful repose, a demon still thunders in his ear, < A thief! a thief ! ' Nor is it the miser and prodigal alone who taste the bitterness of life. Happiness left Para- dise on the wings of the < angelic guard ;' and we must climb to her heavenly residence ere she condescend to embrace us. 128 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. The most unmingled cup that ever mortal man drank beneath the moon, had in it some drops of woe. This acknowledged, it needs not be the enquiry of man, in this world, ' How shall I be completely blest ? ' but, * What shall I do to diminish, in the greatest proportion, the drops of bitterness that are ever mingled with the cup of life ? ' " Horace tells us, that ' he who wisely uses the gifts of Deity, who suffers adversity with patience and resignation, and fears a stain of moral character worse than death, shall drink the fewest of the bitter drops.' And if our experience has not taught us that Horace is in the right, or if we wish a higher authority, we may have recourse to the Wise Man who informs us, that silver, and gold, and honours, are vanity ; that ' even in laughter the heart is sorrowful ; ' but that * wisdom's ways,' that is, cheerful submission to the will of our Maker, and charity to our fellow-men, ' are ways of plea- santness, and all her paths are peace.' And were we to quit this world for a moment, and view man standing naked and bare before the tribunal of his God, the superiority of virtue to every other qualification, in giving happiness, would need no proof. Man must give an account for all his deeds, and there will be ' no shuffling then.' He need not tell his judge what honours he enjoyed, how many heaps of gold he has scraped together, or how powerful he was in fathers and grand- fathers ; but he may plead, if he can, that he has dried the widow's tears, ' and kept himself unspotted from the world.' ' The glory of one fair and virtuous deed Is above all the scutcheon on our tomb, Or silken banners over us.' Then, indeed, will every man know, what he may know already, if he pleases, that to * fear God and keep his com- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 129 mandments is the whole of man,' the whole of his duty, and the whole of his happiness." — " ' Rectius occupat Nomen beati, qui deorum Muneribus sapienter uti, Duramque callet pauperiem pati, Pejusque leto flagitium timet.' Horace. » i "Who will show us any good ? ' is the murmuring enquiry of all the human race. e What shall we do to drive pain from all our bodies, that we may smile away our days in the soft embrace of pleasure, without recollecting the troubles of the past, or trembling at the evils of the future ? ' Who- ever investigates after this fashion, will never catch the phantom of his chase. The happiness which stalks on earth is no more than the ghost of her who once spread her all- blissful wings over the garden of Eden, but quitted it for purer skies and more flowery fields, when Adam tasted the fruit of death. It is only her semblance that is left behind ; and whenever I see a fellow-creature urging and sweating after the light steps of earthly happiness, it reminds me of one running and bustling among the graves and tombs of the dead to grasp the ungraspable spectres of the night. Who in his sober senses, that would not laugh at the ghost-catcher ? and yet he is equally lunatic who searches for complete hap- piness beneath the stars. She is perched on the tree of life, whose immortal branches cluster around the throne of God. Created, and upheld in being by the smile of the Eternal, she sits for ever in his presence, listens to the all-harmonious symphonies of ten thousand times ten thousand adoring hierarchies, casts her eye over the regions of immortality, 130 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. brightens every countenance, fires and softens every note, and fills every heart i with joy unspeakable, and full of glory.' Thither, therefore, we must wing our way, if we would bask beneath the full beams of her joy. No doubt a ray some- times escapes from the immortal habitation, travels through all between, and gilds the head of a mortal man. But these beams fall on the head of the just only — on those who, she knows, by their begun course, are to terminate their career in the bosom of eternal blessedness. Why, then, search the sands for the harvest of plenty ? or why search earth for hap- piness ? This folly ought to cover the world with a univer- sal blush of confusion ; for who, at one period or another, has not sought on earth for that ' which is laid up in heaven ? ' " Are we, then, to abandon the search altogether, as i vanity and vexation of spirit ? ' In regard to earthly hap- piness, the wise have uniformly answered this question in the aflirmative. The pursuit of mere worldly happiness cannot be too soon relinquished by an immortal creature ; and the pursuit of heavenly delights cannot be too soon begun. The moment that a son of Adam resolves and labours to gain the fountain of inexhaustible joy, happiness acknowledges him as one of her sons, and refreshes and invigorates him with streams from the wells of immortality, in proportion to his activity and eagerness to reach her immediate presence. " Innumerable are the schemes which have proceeded from the fertile brains of men for fitting us to enjoy the most numerous visits from happiness, while we journey towards her mansions. To enumerate these would be to count over all that man has done or attempted. Horace, in our motto to this paper, points out one road to happiness ; namely, that 1 he who uses aright the gifts put into his hands by heaven, THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 131 whatever they are ; who is patient when favours are denied, or sufferings awarded ; and who fears worse than death the odium of a crime, shall enjoy the greatest proportion of sub- lunary delight.' This road is certainly the best that a heathen could point out ; and we may yet safely walk in it, if illumined by the rays of Christianity. ' Blessed are the pure in heart, the merciful, the peace-makers, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' In the order of place, happiness has her seat above virtue, who beckons and leans forward to hand us, if we will, up to her who smiles above. But we must rise by her assistance, or she will for ever turn herself between us and the seat of bliss. She offers us a sure con- voy ; a thousand tastes of joy by the way ; and a seat, at last, at the feast of immortality. Turn from her, and death will devour thee ; obey her requests, and live for ever." During his whole course of study at college, he regularly attended public worship, on Sabbath, in the Secession church, Duke Street, under the ministry of the Rev. Robert Muter, D.D., and it may be mentioned as a curious fact, attributable to I know not what cause, that, though he sat under his minis- trations five successive sessions of college, and derived much benefit from them, he was not known to the pastor, nor, so far as I know, to a single member of his congregation. Du- ring all that time, he was acquainted with only one family in Glasgow, and was never in any company but that of students. This arose from no retiredness or reservedness of disposition, but from his studious habits, or from want of time, and mainly, perhaps, from the fact, that the citizens of Glasgow and the students of the University, from dissimilarity of feelings, pur- suits, and interests, were not in the habit of associating to- gether. 132 THE LIFE OF EGBERT POLLOK. CHAPTER VI. Being now fairly set free from college and all its engage- ments, his thoughts turned forcibly on his own circumstances ; and he became deeply and rather painfully impressed with the propriety and necessity of doing something for himself ; as the following letter, which he wrote to me immediately after going home from college, expressively shows : — " Mr David Pollok, No. 20, Portland Street, Glasgow. " Moorhouse, May 2, 1822. " Dear Brother, — I write this letter, you see, from Moor- house. My mind, like every other body's mind, is occupied about the past, the present, and the future. Yesterday, the first of summer, was as fully fraught with heavenly benevo- lence as any day ever shone on me. I was free, as you know, from all studential fetters, and in the best of company, the free, cheerful, liberalized, and pious. I tried to enjoy what God had given me to enjoy. I looked on the countenances of my friends, caught the warm comings-forth of their hearts, and heard their words swollen with a fulness of wish for my welfare : nor did their wishes leave their doings behind. I beheld the kind features of the sky, and cast my eyes on the variegated verdure and flowery dress of the mountain, the meadow, and the lawn. I listened to the grateful song of a THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 133 thousand laverocks,* stationed in the middle heavens, or turned my ear to the varied raptures of the grove; and would fain have said with the poet — * My heart rejoiced in nature's joy.' And there was, indeed, an occasional moment when darkness fled from my soul, and allowed it to place itself in the attitude of enjoyment and gratitude — the homage most reasonable and most acceptable from man to his Maker. But soon did gloominess muster back its wicked banditti, and vex my soul with its wonted engines. ' What is bread if it be locked up ? what is the beauty of colour to the blind? what is the chorus of heaven to the deaf ? ' murmured I, * or what is the boun- teous glory of the morning day of summer to the penniless and unprovided scholar, fitted to know and correct the world, or weep, or laugh at it ; but, alas ! sadly unfitted to live in it?' " The question was sometimes put, and no one put it so often as myself, where was I to live, or what was I to do for the future ? I answered lamely, but the answer was lamest of all to myself. Neither my conscience nor my inclination set up a standard for me at Moorhouse. I have enquired, and am enquiring at every faculty, and power, and sense of my soul, at more than ever entered into the mind of < Father Jardine ' to conceive, — what shall I do ? The question presses itself on me, and will be answered. God direct my steps and yours. Adieu ! " R. Pollok." Having now finished the usual course of study at college, he turned his attention more directly to that of theology, in preparation for the grand object to which all his studies * Larks. 134 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK, and pursuits were subservient— the ministry of the gospel ; and he soon tried his hand at writing a sermon. It is dated May 14, 1822 ; and the text is 1 Cor. iii. 3. " For ye are yet carnal ;. for whereas there is among you envying, and strife, and divisions, are ye not carnal, and walk as men ? " Early in the summer, he wrote two long letters to two of his most intimate friends ; which, having been returned to him, at his own request, after perusal, are now in my posses- sion. As they contain many of his opinions and sentiments, and mark very distinctly the progress of his mind, it is thought proper to give them a place here in succession. The first of them is to Mr David Marr, giving an account of a nocturnal adventure which he had in the month of May, and is, as a whole, a good exemplification of his variety, ver- satility, and continual activity of mind, and of his habits of attending to every thing that came in his way. " Moorhouse, May 1822. " Dear Friend, — The everyday path of man certainly con- ducts him the most easily and safely over the ruggedness of time ; but the history of those who are esteemed for wis- dom and prudence, would make, were it written, only a very flat entertainment to the reader. The sea, sleeping in silence, and the river, gliding gently along the plain or a level country, often meet with little attention ; but when the bold mountain lifts his brow on high ; when the river bursts from the precipice, and rages wide from its channel ; when the ocean gathers together his waves, and roars to break up his everlasting prison-doors ; every eye is fixed in attention, and every soul filled with astonishment. So it is with the romantic adventurer in human life. The picture which he THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 135 leaves behind him is eagerly gazed at, because it is full of striking touches. A Bruce and a Knox are familiar to our lips ; but where are the hosts of common-place kings and priests ? " These reflections I have made, O friend ! although I know thou hast made them a thousand times already. But if we never think on what has been thought on before, we must have many hours of vacancy. Milton and Shakspeare are not always new, and what am I that am but of to-day, * and know nothing?' The pronoun I, like the cuckoo's note, makes an ever-pleasing sound in the ears of him who pronounces it. And I will, therefore, leave all, and speak of myself. " You know, my dear friend, I never write you the history of those days and nights of my life, which are common to me with the rest of mortals. For why should I tell you that I have read Virgil or Shakspeare all day, when you have, per- haps, done the very same thing yourself ? But I invite your attention to all my cometary motions. You may trace me, therefore, if you please, sometimes with your telescope, some- times with your microscope, round the following parabolic curve. " The sun that rose on the morning of the 14th of May, had refreshed his steeds at the halfway house, and was careering down, as usual, towards the portals of the west, when a few words, written on paper, presented themselves before my eyes. The process of vision began. The diffe- rent humours of the eye, aqueous, crystalline, and vitreous, performed the necessary refractions ; an image of the words was formed on the retina ; my optic nerve carried back the image to the brain ; and the brain most obligingly delivered it over into the hand of the mind : and I had now some ideas most legitimately and scientifically conceived. But how such 136 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. ideas should ever have been sent to my mind, I could not deter- mine on any of the principles of human nature I happened to be acquainted with. I knocked at every door of my soul, asking for an answer. At the powers of understanding and will — at my senses, external, internal, and reflex, I enquired ; and travelled far into the back recesses of my imagination ; but could receive no satisfactory answer. Ignorance is very disagreeable, when we know we are ignorant ; and this was my condition — the more perplexing, too, as I was ignorant on a subject which involved part of my happiness. I tried to read ; but he who reads without attending, acts the part of a fool. I, therefore, rose from my seat ; took my oaken switch .in my hand ; went out at the door of my dwelling- place ; and, like the Israelites of old, journeyed ; and soon came to a considerable town* in the west of Scotland. By this time I had driven the paper ideas pretty far back into the swampy and desert places of my mind, so that they troubled me little ; and 1 resolved to turn my coming out to the best account. After hovering about the streets for some time, like a ghost that would fain speak out some deed done in the body, I recollected that every one in the town was not strange to me. This thought had scarcely sooner occurred to me than I called at a house, tenanted at the time — which was exactly ten at night on the clock of the town — by a damsel • exceeding fair to look upon.' I had seen her frequently before, but not alone, in such a place at such an hour. Ye, whose hearts are cold, stand aloof ! This is no scene for you ; and I despise your jeer ; your looks unholy I abhor I took her soft hand, and placed her near me. What feast was then ! Her eyes dispensed an everlasting sorcery, that * Paisley, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 137 he who once had looked would look for ever. Her hair, in witching ringlets, hovered round her snowy forehead. Her ruby lips would have tempted the iron-hearted miser from his gold, and made his soul most liberal. Her form was symmetry itself, and life ; and over her wholly the powers of softness, health, love, and youth, for ever wished to wander. Beware, O friend! of any naughty conclusion. And, 'ye severe in virtue,' be not too hasty. Modesty sat on her brow, and checked every unrighteous marauder of my breast. " Bliss like this was * too kind long to last.' But I enjoyed while I could : and that is the art of living. At half- past eleven, I went forth from the place of delightful entertain- ment, intending to sleep at the house of a male acquaintance ; but I now recollected, emphatically too late, that I knew not where my friend lived. He was a remote man ; and there were few on the streets to be guides. I made some enquiries, however, and received civil answers, for which I heartily thanked the people ; but could find no clue to lead me to the lodgings of my acquaintance. To sleep in an inn was grievous to more than my conscience. The night was lovely and benevolent, and I soon determined to spend it in the open air. To sleep, even on the softest down, was out of the question at any rate ; my soul was too full of tumult and vexation. " After forming this resolution, I walked about the streets for a little, and saluted one of the watchmen, who proved to have ' peen porn and pred,' as he himself expressed it, in the north country. I asked Donald if he did not weary to walk about tbe streets all night ? Donald replied, cautiously, that he ' sometimes wearied a-wee, but no' muckle.' I said I sup- posed there were many of his countrymen in his employ- 138 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. ment, as they were very trusty ' Ay,' quoth Donald, ' they are the best to be trusted.' * I believe,' said I, ' they are thought very trust-worthy ; and they are brave, stout fellows, too. The old man looked as if he could have taken me into his bosom, and pronounced, in a tone of triumph, that there might * be some no' sae true a ane amang them, too, but they are generally the straghtest.' ? I left the old night-watching wight perfectly happy, because he was perfectly ignorant. He triumphed in a fancied good — the superiority of himself and his countrymen to other men. Why should philosophers, thought I, fight against national prejudices, or hold up the torch of know- ledge to the mind that is safely mailed in darkness ! This old man never thinks of his countrymen without rejoicing in their superior worth. In the darkness of midnight this thought is his stay and trust. Teach him the truth, and his visions fly. For although the Highlander's ignorant ferocity has gained him great renown in war, he is more justly known by those who will narrowly examine him, by suspicious stubbornness. His eye is the eye of the ox, heavy and dull. So keen is his liking of gold, that the dread of an ill name and the arm of the law restrain him, rather than any habitual principles of honesty ; and so lofty is his pride of soul, when he chances to gather of the world, that he knows none of the familiars of his goat-herding and heath-gathering poverty, and his gait on the street calls aloud, ' I am exceedingly exalted.' But Donald knew none of those things. Cease, then, O philosophers, to make men miserable by making them wise ! " Such were my cogitations while I journeyed a street that led me to the suburbs. At this moment, the hoarse Caledonian THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 139 voice of old Donald, loud raised with the other watch, broke on my auditory nerve, and told me that it was twelve o'clock. I hasted away from the town by a road which led to a roman- tic wood,* about three miles off. It was now fit time for musing : my soul gathered itself together ; and, sometimes walking, sometimes standing, and sometimes leaning to a dyke or a tree, I communed thus : — " My soul, attend ! 'tis now fit time to hold High converse with thyself. The gay attire Of nature, which so oft wins on the mind And steals her from herself, is folded up ; The lark has dropped from heaven ; and still the choirs That poured the day-song from each leafy grove. The voice of man is hushed : I hear no laugh Of heedless mirth ; no sigh of sorrow loads The breeze of health ; the liquid fiery eye Of wanton beauty ; the bosom swelling wild, And all the form so softening into sense — The certain fall of the unwary youth — Eclipsed in darkness, poison not my eye. And Night, high in the middle- way of heaven, Rides in his ebon car, pondering on man, On slumbering man that thinks not of himself. But I will think : my soul is worth a thought. " Whence come I, then ? or whither do I go ? Oh, I am dark ! 'tis mid-night in my mind. A host of doubts start up, and war within. When shall the sun arise? — when shall I know The everlasting landmark that directs The soul to truth, to rest, and happiness ? " Thou kindly star, that left'st thy wonted course, And to the Babe of Bethlem led'st the men * Gleniffer "Wood. 140 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Of eastern wisdom, pity me ; come forth And guide me to the dwelling-place of Truth : There dwell her offspring, Happiness and Peace. " Away each thought that bears not on myself! Who made me, then ? The child replies, ' My God.' The infidel, in reason lifted high, Laughs at the answer, but vouchsafes no better. And whither go I, when my foot slips o'er The edge of time ? The Christian's oracle Consigns my body to the dust, and lifts My soul to God, who cares for all his works. The infidel jeers at this brief response, And tells me that my soul is mortal too. Its hopes, its fears, its burning after fame, Its wide desires, its social love, and all Its great capacities of joy, cast out, Shall sleep for ever in the narrow grave. Hereafter is a bug- bear, held to view By kings and priests, to fright the senseless herd From all the joys of life, and make them meek Beneath the load of tyranny and want. " Now is the infidel or Christian right ? I will enquire a moment for myself. " This frame, so harmonized in all its parts, So fitted for the destinies of life, Is not a work of mine, far less of chance. Who gave this world a being, fixed the poles, Gave motion to the planets ? who upholds Them still in everlasting harmony ? Who made these lustrous eyes, that look from heaven, Innumerous, and watch the steps of Night ? Who bade the seasons roll their constant round, Now wafting from the bosom of the south, On zephyr's softest wing, the vernal heat, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 141 That wakes the flowery slumberers to life, And stirs a general smile on Nature's face ; Now driving, far beneath the Southern Cross, The wain of night, and on our summer months Pouring the blaze of scarce departing day ; Now waving sober o'er the trusted fields The welcome harvest — the heart -cheering vine, And yellow corn, true staff of healthy life ; Now locking up the earth in stubborn frost, And from the treasures of the snow and hail, Deep covering all the vegetative race ? A few hours hence, who taught the sun to hide His glorious face behind the western cliffs ? And who again shall lift him from the east ? Who works all this ? It is not Adam's sons ; Nor chance ; nor aught that wants consummate skill, Unbounded might, and presence infinite. Who, then, possesses these, from Him I come : He must have made me, else I ne'er had been. " What sound is this that breaks upon my ear ? From yonder wood it comes — the cuckoo's voice. 'Tis curious at this pensive mid-night hour ! Sweet bird of spring ! thou hast broke up my thoughts ; But I will weave thee in my song, and make Thy kind intrusion teach me to be wise. "Who formed thee as thou art, with wings to fly? Whence did'st thou learn that ever-pleasing note ? Who placed thee in the bosom of the spring, And taught thee to attend her flowery path, Unerring ? or why dost thou leave thy eggs To be warmed into life, and fed, and guarded, By little birds thou canst not bargain with ? Man taught thee not what man not understands. Thou did'st not teach thyself, else thou art wiser Far than I. Some being, then, I see not, Thee made and taught : the same most sure that stretched 142 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Forth, curtain-like, yon heavens, and in them placed Those fiery hosts, the glory of the night. " Sweet bird ! I thank thee for thy midnight song ; Farewell ! and as thou fliest o'er earth announcing Spring and joy to man, this inform him too : ' There is a God who made thyself and man.' " So much of my enquiry, then, is solved : From Him I come who made the heaven and earth. " But whither go I ? whither goes my soul ? Down to the grave, or up to endless day ? If to the grave, why do I think, forecast, Investigate ? why do I fear the future ? Why not, like other animals, enjoy The present hour, unheedful of the next ? Why can I picture, in my mind, a scene Of perfect bliss, where flaunts eternal spring ; Where every tree bows down with fruit immortal ; Where Flora ever walks, amid the rose And lily ; where rich nectar plenteous glides Through bowers, the fit retreat of rural angels ; Where on the zephyr's aromatic wing No mortal vapour comes ; where love is law, And where the din of strife is never heard, Nor ever seen the tear of parting grief ; Where never reached, nor sin, nor pain, nor death ? If in the grave my soul must ever sleep, Why does she pant for these immortal scenes ? Why does she wander through the vast of things, And dart her eye far in eternity ? Why does she voyage for improvement still, For ever taking in, yet never full ? Why is she fitted to be knit so close In all the dear and tender ties of love And friendships, brotherhoods, and mutual trusts ; THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 143 Which were not worth the framing, if they wreck On death ? If, then, my God he good and wise, My soul shall never die. He could not make A thing, so fitted for enjoyment, just To let it see how much it might have done, Then close its eye in unawaking death. " That God is good and wise, I argue thus: I look upon myself, and plainly see Unerring skill in forming every part. Each animal, the elephant, and mite, And all between, corroborate the fact. In wisdom move the ever-circling seasons ; In wisdom swells the deep, in wisdom falls. The night and day, as round the earth they walk, In close success, proclaim their Maker wise. I make a visit to the starry heavens ; Behold the planets dance in endless maze, Around the nursing sun, unerring still ; And hear them swell the universal song : ' Our Maker's might and wisdom, who can tell ? ' " That God is good, I gather from the joy O'er nature spread. I walk the summer morn : Ten thousand little insects sportive dance The sunny beam ; sublime in air, the lark, Full of devotion, lifts the mirthful song, Joining sweet chorus with the tuneful groves. Before me frisks the lamb ; the flocks and herds, High fed and happy, spread o'er hill and plain. A smile plays on the rippling rivulet ; The trees seem joyful in their bushy robes ; Fair Peace sits on the gentle lily's brow ; And love looks blushing from the rose's cheek. In autumn, too, I walk the golden fields : But who can tell the goodness then that waves To man, to beast, to every living thing ? 144 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " Yes, God is good to man : this very hour, How many millions rest, and rest in peace ! Each morn, how many millions wake to joy ! Why should I quote his reason, endless source Of entertainment sweet ? or why send out His fancy, roving infinite, to waft The rarest joys of all creation home ? Why turn his ear to music's heavenly tones ? Why open his nostrils to the morning breeze ? Or place before his eye the birthful spring ; The autumn, swelling every heart with joy ; The mountain forest, tossing to the storm; The cliffy peak, lost in the skies ; the moon, Riding august the starry vault of night ; And ocean's face ? — all plenishing his soul With thoughts how sweet, how worthy, how sublime ! " Need I seek proof that God is good to man, From all the social offspring of the heart ? The infant prattling on the father's knee, Or clasping innocent the mother's neck ? The sweet exchange of wedded looks ? the trust Of friendship, fearless speaking all the soul ? " But who are these ? where have I wandered now ? O ! I perceive : forgive my rude approach, Ye loving pair ! I will make haste away : 'Tis most unholy to invade your bliss. But while I go, let me reflect on you : It was my errand out to learn from all. " Back from the critic-eye, the whispering tongue, Of man, these two have stolen, beneath the wing Of night, to mix their souls in holy love. O, 'tis a scene most fit, an hour most kind, For all the modest dwellers of their hearts, To meet in full embrace ! I could observe THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 145 The gentle birch put forth her tender arras, And with the sacred hawthorn, tree of love, Weave amorous o'er their heads a canopy ; The violet and daisy, bathed in dew, In dew of May, flock round them, purest flowers ! Hard by their feet I heard a streamlet walk ; The hallowed zephyrs bring them incense sweet. 'Twas well, so full their every sense of bliss, So full their souls, my foot disturbed them not ! Dear moment ! dearest far of man on earth ! Then only rivals angels' human joy ! Sweet pair ! farewell : your earthly bliss is full. The stars look kindly down, and spirits pure Give full assent. O 'tis your time to live ! I see already, hovering on the east, The harbingers of day, and ye must part : And who can say ye e'er shall meet again ? " Where was I when the lovers broke my thoughts ? My Maker's goodness was the pleasing theme. And is not this another proof most strong, That God is kind, supremely kind, to man ? I ask no more : that God is good and wise I must believe, else call my reason fool. Then shall my soul inherit endless life ; High o'er the vale of death, on god-like wing, Pursue her flight, defying all below ! For why could wisdom, goodness infinite, If not in power deficient, frame a thing, So great of thought, so capable of joy, To live, at longest, threescore years and ten ; A year, perhaps — perhaps another hour ? " That God can give my soul enfranchisement To endless life, why start a single doubt ? Who can resist his arm ? — who can abide The wrathful lightning? who the thunder's stroke N 146 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Withstand ? Let Sodom and Gommorah tell ! Did Pharaoh's or Sennacherib's mighty hosts Rebel, and live ? Who poised the sun ? — the stars ? Who, quick as lightning, wheels the planets' mass ? Who shakes the solid earth, and makes her reel, Like one that's drunk ? or who lifts up, on high, The ocean's maddening waves, tremendous sight ? Or bids them sleep along the feeble sands ? 'Tis God alone : and who shall doubt his power To lift my soul up to immortal life ? " From this short survey, now, what do I draw ? ' There is a God who made and governs all, In wisdom, power, and goodness infinite ; Who made myself — who made my soul immortal.' " This short and simple basis of my creed The sceptic may deride, and call me rash. If he can better prove his unbelief, I shall renounce my creed, and laugh with him. " But how is this ? I feel again my woes. I thought this solemn midnight interview With heaven, and with myself, like holy words Spoken to a troubled ghost, my ills had laid ! But ye do haunt me still : the fondest youth Keeps not a better watch to taste the glimpse Of love, that steals forth from his mistress' eye, And gives him, what her words refuse — her heart, Than round my soul ye watch to work it pain. Oh, why is this ? If God is good and wise, If he has made me, made my soul to life, To endless life, why do I wander here In jeopardy ? A host of rebel passions, From which this watchful hour can scarce protect, Stand armed and ready to lay waste my soul. Already, much is desolate : behind THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 147 Them grow remorse, and shame, and self-reproach ! The thorns and briers of the wasted mind. Why am I left to suffer scorn in word, Or deed ? Why do I hear a thousand moans I have no power to soothe ? why is my heart A scene of war, now loathing what it loved, Now loving what it loathed, unholy change ! Why wise to know the best, yet choose the worst, And whet the very sword that slays my peace ? If God is good and wise, why do I see So much might give me joy, so little feel ? Why bring the nectar to my thirsty lips, Without the power to taste ? why hang the grapes So tempting round, yet scorn my eager grasp ? O why, when goodness, beauty, youth, and love, Smile full assent, does Fortune's flaming sword Turn in between, and bid me stand at bay ? O Fortune! thou art most inhuman here — 'Tis ill to bear — to keep me from myself, To wave thy sword 'twixt me and her I love ! If Heaven be kind and wise, why do I pant For fame, and kindle at the name of all The great of soul ; yet pant and kindle still, Mid pain, and poverty, and men obscure ? Why do I hate dependence so, and yet Depend so long ? Why wandering hopeless now Without a friend, that can in deeds assist ? Where'er I turn I meet, or think I meet, A frown ! To stoop to man is worse than death. My feet won't bear me to the haughty door. My knee won't bend in reverence to wealth. The fawning word would falter on my tongue. " If God is good and wise, why am I thus ? Not at the ports alone, the helmsman cares To guide his bark, but steers her through the deep r Shifting her oft to save her from the storm. 148 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. But I am left to brave the tempest's wrath, The sport and tossing of each angry wave. Why am I thus ? what oracle shall tell ? Ye thoughtful stars, that walk in heaven, above All human clouds, and hear the gods converse, Will ye not look my ignorance away ? Spirits of light ! that from your piercing eyes, Have dropped the film of time, and see as seen, If e'er ye visit earth, this moment come, And let the riddle out, darker than that Which, but for guile, had baffled Gaza's sons. This is a holy time, a holy place, Your voice, by mortals yet unheard, will not Alarm me, if it bring the fit response, And teach me wisdom — teach me why I mourn. " Ah ! ye are silent all : I wait in vain ! Stand still, my soul, and answer for thyself. "'Tis out, the riddle's out; a whispering voice Within me says, ' The Lord is wise and good ; But thou hast erred, forgot his holy law, Chosen evil, when to choose the good was free ; And now thou weep'st : men, too, have freely chosen To work themselves and thee incessant woe.' " This is too much : I dare enquire no more. Each answer blushes with the shame it brings To me, to man, and tells that God is good, To all his creatures good, and just, and wise ; That I — that Adam's race are froward fools ; Knowing the good, and choosing still the bad ; Repenting still, yet ne'er forsaking sin ; Resolved to mend, and still becoming worse. " Eternal One ! great God of truth and love ! Resigned, I look to thee. O teach me truth ; THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, 149 Teach me the good to know, the good to choose, O save me from myself, from wandering man ; From every foolish deed, and word, and thought ; And guide my feet in wisdom's pleasant path, The path of honour, purity, and peace ! " With such thoughts as these, O friend, I employed my- self an hour. I threw them not into measure with any hope that they should live, but because, in all such contemplative moments, blank verse is the spontaneous language of my soul. The critics would, perhaps, acquit me of poetry. Let it be so. It would not be difficult to acquit whole hosts of them of common-sense. " And now, my dear friend, I returned to the town ; and, hadst thou been with me, thou mightst have heard Donald's sturdy voice telling thee that it was half-past one o'clock. At this time all seemed quiet in the streets. To re- lieve myself from languor, I again saluted one of the watch. He had been born and bred in the town which he was herding. His countenance, for I could now see some, was meek and melancholy, and his whole figure would have made one think him ill-fitted to keep the foxes and wolves aloof from the fold of mankind. To this post, however, he had been destined, I suppose, by God and man ; and at it, therefore, he stood. As his countenance betokened, he talked to me with great civility. I asked him if he was in the police about two years ago, when there was evil in the nation. He said he was, and that amid great fear and trembling. He knew that the people were oppressed, and he pitied them. He had resolved, however, as well as almost all his fellows, if any serious uproar had happened, to keep by the upper- most warrior. I said to myself, ' Is this the faith of the King's 150 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. men ? Surely thy pay was small, for < money answereth all things : ' < it maketh a man most loyal.' I enquired into the nature of his duty, and into the whole institution of police. He had a street of considerable length to guard from the evils of the night ; and by his diligence, the inhabitants slept in peace, and their goods remained, till the rising of the sun. Moreover, he was a companion of owls, and had all kinds of weather to endure ; and furthermore, he had to tell the people if it was fair or rainy, pleasant or boisterous ; he had to meet often, in doubtful battle, the bloody desperado of night, of which several scars on his peaceable face gave ocular proof; and he held, too, the important office of announcing to the forgetful inhabitants the flight of time, but for which, some of them had, perhaps, mistaken it for eternity ; and on him lay also the weighty charge of watching the progress of fire, and he had often saved human beings from being burned up alive : all these and sundry other burdens lay on the shoul- ders of this one being. ' You will surely/ said I, ' have a liberal pay from your townsmen ; they cannot take so much service for a mean reward.' ' My pay,' said the poor man, 1 is only eight shillings a- week ; and this is all I have to subsist myself and a numerous family.' ' Why,' said I, ' do you continue with the ungrateful beings ? The robber and thief should devour them, the fire should burn them, or they should sleep for ever, ere I should stir myself for such a paltry reward.' The man sighed as he could ; wished he could leave them; but there was ' no better job to be got; and eight shillings a- week kept him and his family, although no more, from absolute starvation.' I now wished him a good morning, and went on execrating the ingratitude of man ; and although but a mole in politics, I could not help seeing the difference THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 151 of those who sit in the senate-house and make laws, from the poor beings who stand in the night to defend them. « It was not so/ said I, < in Athens and Sparta. Every Spartan, every Athenian, was a nobleman. There, every man gave laws ; every man fought for his country ; every man could rise to the highest dignity. But this is neither Lacedemon nor Athens. This is Scotland, the land of freedom/ " I was musing in this manner when a golgotha, or place of skulls, arrested my attention. It was large, and sloped towards the north. The long grass, nourished by the fatness of human dust ; the sad gray stones that give note of man's mortality ; and the red turf, still marked with the sexton's spade, were now faintly lighted up with the straggling fore- runners of day. I stood and beheld the place. How still are the mansions of the dead ! I heard no one slander his neighbour ; no one strove and jostled for the uppermost seat. I heard no din of angry theologies. The Cameronian, who never prayed for his king, and the established Churchman, who never prayed for any thing else, slept in kind embrace. Nothing like ambition, hurrying on with a sword in one hand and a chain in the other, was to be seen here. I heard not a single groan of slavery. I saw no people-blinding farce kept up between Whig and Tory. I saw no cumbrous pensioners strut about. No one knocked at another's door with a tax-paper in his hand. No one was dragged to jail because he told the truth; and no one rode in his chariot because he had learned to lie. No one called slavery free- dom, nor freedom slavery. None oppressed ; none complained of oppression. No angry wife drove forth her husband to drunkenness and debauchery ; no silly husband taught his wife to rule over him, and no dissipated one broke the heart 152 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. that loved him. The widow and the fatherless mourned not, that landlords had taken their all, and driven them forth to want and nakedness ; nor could I hear a single landlord say, ' What else could I do with them? my house was my own.' I saw no fopling affect to despise the man of worth, nor twist his gaudily caparisoned body to attract a momentary glance. No centurion girt himself from the shape of nature ; and no clerk, or soap-dealer, mimicked the costume and stiff-mea- sured pace of the man of tactics. I could see no coquette, no fine miss, bred to all but industry, fluttering along. No innocent daughter feared, and believed, and mourned, the tongue of falsehood ; no villain boasted his triumph ; and no foolish youth turned in by the gates of destruc- tion. I saw no table for the voluptuary. The sons of Bacchus were silent. No miser hungered, and trembled, and lied, and damned himself, for gold. No one held down his head because he was poor; nor lifted it up because he was rich. My ear perceived not the voice of fame ; my eye saw not the face of envy. No critic thirsted for the blood of genius ; no pedant rose by detraction. The bare-coated scholar of worth gave not place to the gilded head of emptiness. None praised his neighbour, that his neighbour might praise him in turn. I heard not a single man commend himself for vir- tues which he never had the power of violating ; and no one took applause for avoiding crimes which he was unable to commit, or for conquering vicious pleasures by which he was never assailed. ' There is no vice, no suffering here,' said I ; ' but alas ! there is no virtue, no pleasure. No lover grows happy in the arms of his mistress. The face of friend brightens not the face of friend. The bridegroom rejoices not over the bride. The child prattles not among the gleams THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 153 of a father or a mother's love. The feast of reason is broken up. The meek eye of patience, the ever-giving hand of be- nevolence, the plain words and determined front of patriotism, the great endeavour to make mankind happy, have no place here. No one praises his Maker. O death, how silent is thy habitation ! And yet it is liker heaven than the busy world. ' There was silence in heaven half an hour ; " but vice never ravaged there. Death, thou art cruel to man ! But what after all hast thou made by it? On love, and friendship, and goodness, thou never laidst a hand.' And here I was just about to tell death that he could not kill the soul, when I recollected that I had reasoned with the gloomy king about an hour ago, and come off victorious ; and why should I triumph twice in a night ? I looked again steadfastly on the place of graves. ' Ah ! the inhabitants are quiet,' said I, ' and I shall soon be as quiet as you ; and not only I, but all the busy world, all the inhabitants of the globe, in a few years, must lie down with you ; ' and the worms shall devour them.' A thought like this, one would think, might slay the worldly ambition of man ; but it will not slay his worldly ambition. I feel it will not slay my own, and why should I expect it will slay that of others ? " I now hasted away from the territories of the dead, and came to the banks of a river, which passes the town. It was the very place where a most unfortunate Scotch poet* drowned himself. I had read his songs with great delight. Their tender, artless simplicity had often touched my heart ; and a tear from my eye now mingled with the waters, while they followed those to the sea, that carried with them the last sob of the bard. ' Men were too cruel to thee,' said I ; * Kobert Tannahill. 154 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. ' thou wast too cruel to thyself! How happy hast thou made me! how miserable wast thou thyself! I never read a song of thine, but my soul is filled with nature and simplicity; nor ever lay one by without a tear for thy fate. Genius, want, and neglect — Oh I they are ill to bear. But what has become of thy soul ? I will not hazard a thought. ' Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right ? ' " It was now between two and three in the morning. I turned myself about hastily to return a salutation which I had received from four of those human beings who sometimes think it fit, instead of sleeping or praying, to spend the night in pouring out libations to Bacchus. They were young, genteelly dressed, and withal seemed more zealous to worship their god with merriness and nonsense, than with rudeness or brutality. One of them saluted me by the name of Dr Tait, a gentleman, I suppose, belonging to the town. He soon perceived his mistake, however, for which he begged my pardon eleven times, and I forgave him as often. I talked as civilly as I could to the lads ; and it was curious to hear their conversation. One of them told me that ' this wark was na gude for the sowl ; but yet,' quoth he, ' I'm nane frightet for him either ; his kilns are a' fu' enou. Huzza ! lasses and wine! lasses and wine!' — 'Very good things in their own places,' said I. — ' And out of them too,' said he. He then told me that the fact was, he had taken a pill from the doctor this morning — meaning, however, the morning of the past day — and it had raised such a horrible convulsion in his ' inside,' as he expressed it, that he had just gone ' to the public-house to see an' lay the mischievry o't ; but confound the doctors/ quoth he, < and their pills too. Jean Michael 'ill gae o'er selling whisky to a body that has a saxpence, or I THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 155 swallow ony mair o' their trash/ — < Very well said — keep your word,' replied I. — ' My word,' quoth Bacchus, swearing, his goings. We would have him teach the oak and the plane to spread their shelter, and the sweetbrier and hawthorn to breathe their incense, in the lowly course of the meek and humble Jesus. We would have him teach every flower of the field — the violet, the rose, and the lily — to adorn the garden of Geth- semane ; make the ravens of heaven bring an offering to the Holy One ; and instruct the lark, and the nightingale, and every daughter of heavenly song, to lift up, with man, hosan- nas to Him who came from the right hand of the Ancient of Days, to ' bind up the broken-hearted,' and * to comfort all that mourn.' " I shall afterwards enquire into the cause why the barren mode of preaching is so prevalent." In the course of this session, he sold the copyright of " Helen of the Glen" to Mr William Collins, bookseller in Glasgow, for £15 ; and the Tale, as will be seen immediately, was soon after put to press. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 215 k CHAPTER VIII. At the close of the Hall in 1823, Robert and I, it is neces- sary to apprize the reader, were, for the first time in our life, separated to a distance from one another. On the 14th of October that year, leaving him in Glasgow, I went to reside at Auchindinny, a small village pleasantly situated on the banks of the North Esk, in Mid- Lothian, seven miles south from Edinburgh ; where, it is proper to add, I continued for three years. In a fortnight after my arrival there, I wrote to him, expressing my feelings on entering Edinburgh for the first time, and describing the scenery around Auchin- dinny. Immediately after writing to him, I received the following letter in return, which, besides showing some of his engagements and designs, gives considerable insight into his character, habits, and disposition : — « Glasgow, October 28, 1823. " Dear Brother — I received your letter about an hour ago. How eloquent is the language of a friend! I have read accounts upon accounts of Edinburgh and its castle, but never till you transfused into me your own feelings at your first sight of that ancient place of renown, did I feel the slightest approach to that changeful excitation of soul which its embattled towers, its hoary age, and its tragi-comic history, now stir within me. I am in raptures to see it; 216 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. and really I never thought seriously and determinately of visiting- it, for the very sake of seeing it, till now. You have enamoured me of the whole scenery around you, and espe- cially of the Esk. May his waters never fail, and may he never want a minstrel to awake the harp, responsive to the cadence of his wave ! for the description of his uncircum- cised ruggedness hath given me a thrill of delight which claims dearest gratitude. But I waste time, for you know what feelings your description must have awakened in me. " To gratify both of us, and I believe both alike, I shall come and see you as soon as possible. At present, I am engaged with Mr Collins. The correction goes on plea- santly. The emendations we make are very trifling, and, I may say, always meet my own approbation ; they are indeed almost every one of them, made by myself. I esteem Mr Collins more, both in talent and manners, the more I am acquainted with him. A few hours, and these hours I ex- pect of this week, will finish the correction. " I had a letter lately from Mr Macintosh,* containing an offer of his school at Cupar- Angus, but it is terribly far north. Besides I observed, in reading lately Pitscottie's < History of Scotland,' that there were cannibals about Angus no further back than the reign of James II. ; so I thought it was as safe wintering on this side the Tay. But, joking aside, I did debate whether or not to take the school. My health, my inclination, and an ardent desire to attempt some- thing, spoke loudly against it; and so I resolved, after a weary, horrible struggle — for I knew I was leaning on a reed that had pierced a thousand sides — to trust for bread to * One of his fellow-students at the Hall. THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 217 the exertion of my pen. Success in teaching, at such a place as Cupar- Angus, would have been failure. In my present purpose I can only fail. ' Man taketh counsel within him ; but the Lord ordereth his steps.' " I retain my old room, and must be vigorously employed ; it is necessary both to my health and happiness. Neverthe- less, as soon as I am disengaged with Collins, and have chosen and prepared a subject of cogitation — for then I can profit in all places and at all times — I shall come and see you. All this, I trust, will be very soon. You may depend I will make it as soon as I possibly can. I weary to see you. The sensations I felt that day you went away were entirely new to me. I could have wept, although I scarcely could say why. I lost all appetite for dinner, and regained nothing like cheerfulness till late in the evening. " Your first Ayrshire letter was expedited, and all your letters have been sent forward. Our friends are all well. The harvest is nearly in at Moorhouse. R. Pollok, farmer, was blessing you when I was out, for keeping your promise of sending good weather from the east. " R. POLLOK. " All your orders shall be strictly realized. You must write to me in a week after the receipt of this, and write by post. Remember I am No. 24. " Make yourself as well acquainted as you can with the history of those places in your neighbourhood which are notable for past transactions, that you may be able to point them out when I come." In the middle of December, six weeks after writing this letter, certainly much later in the season than he intended T 218 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. when he wrote it, he came, along with Mr Marr, and saw me at Auchindinny. By that time, he had " chosen and prepared" two subjects " of cogitation," namely " Ralph Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family;" and to assist his cogitation on them, as well as gratify his curiosity, he visited during his stay, Roslin and Pennicuick House, Pentland Hills, Habbie's Howe, and Rullion Green, all " notable for past transactions." In visiting the three last places, he and his friend spent nearly a whole day. They set out to visit them early in the forenoon, and, as they told me on their return in the even- ing, they wandered about Habbie's Howe, and up and down among the Pentlands, till it was beginning to grow dark, when they ascended to the top of Carnethy, the loftiest of these classic hills, and stood there, contemplating and wor- shipping, till the curtains of night closed around them. On descending from it, they held their way under the light of the moon, along the foot of the hill, for Rullion Green, and soon came down on a shepherd's house, at which they called, enquiring for the hallowed field. The shepherd's wife, tell- ing them that they were close by it, sent along with them one of her children, a girl about ten or eleven years of age, to take them to the stone set up on it in memory of the martyrs who fell there in the cause of civil and religious liberty, in the battle of Pentland Hills, fought in 1666. They walked, in silence, back and forward over the green, surveying it narrowly ; and went and kneeled down beside the Martyr's Stone, and, partly by looking and partly by groping, made out the inscription on it ; then slowly and silently withdrew. As they were going back to the house with their little THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 219 guide, it may be mentioned as a curious incident which a good deal amused them, that they met her mother, in great alarm, crying, " Mary ! Mary ! " She had taken it into her head that they were doctors, and that they might make away with her daughter ; though, when they spoke of it on meet- ing her, she seemed rather ashamed of her fears, and wished to hide them ; hut on proceeding with her to the house, they joked her into a frank confession of them, convinced her that they were not doctors, and then, giving the girl some- thing for guiding them to the stone, left her composed and pleased. His visit to these three places, partly from the scenery and the season, and partly from novelty, but chiefly from association, had a powerful and happy effect on his mind, elevating and expanding it with devotion, solemnity, and sublimity. It was glorious, he said, on concluding the account of it to me at night, while he looked to Mr Marr, his voice swelling up, and his eye kindling and glowing with enthusiasm as he spoke — it was glorious, truly glorious, after wandering the light of day on the soft hallowed bosom of the Pentlands, to stand, in the middle of December, on their highest top, nearly two thousand feet above the level of the sea, holding high converse with God, and hear the spirit of the blast drawing the curtains of night around us ; and then to come down on the sanctified field of martyrs below, surveying it by the shadowy light of the moon, shed through the slow passing clouds, and groping, with our very hands, the stone inscribed and set up ' for a memorial of them!' On their way home from Auchindinny, he and Mr Marr passed a day and a night in Edinburgh, and he wrote me 220 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. thence the following' letter, giving some account of their visiting the metropolis, and showing how they were pleased with their excursion to the east : — " Edinburgh, December 18, 1823. " Dear Brother — Immediately on our arrival at Edinburgh, we found Mr Lambie * just as he was going into the theo- logical class. His kindness and attention to us have been as vigilant as any one could expect from another. He has never left us since our arrival here till this moment. We have walked, eaten, drunken, and slept with him scot-free. Mr Lambie lives at No. 2, Richmond Court, not far from college. He sends his compliments to you, and will be happy to see you. " On Tuesday, we visited the Castle ; the tomb of Fer- gusson, erected by Burns ; Parliament Square, in the court of which are lawyers innumerable ; Holyrood House, Calton Hill, and so on. The Castle, ' veteran hoary in arms ' to which Burns likens it, and the view of town, and country, and sea, from it, produced a most glorious feeling in our souls. No man could define it. But a feeling that can be exactly denned is not worth the defining. Holyrood House, as a mere building, is nowise very remarkable. But when we thought how many of our kings, our Stuarts, unfortunate things, had trod its royal courts ; led the dance in its then merry halls, brilliant with the lustre of fair eyes, whose light has long since set for ever, and whose laugh of love, and kindness, and mirthfulness, had passed ere we came thi- ther; had cracked their crack, taken their glass, planned and prospered, or had been disappointed there ; and espe- * Along with whom he took the degree of Master of Arts. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 221 cially when we considered that all these illustrious kings, and all these lovely laughing dames, lay now mouldered into dust, we felt — I don't know what we felt — you will feel it yourself. " On Tuesday night, after eight o'clock, we sallied out to scour the narrow lanes, that is, the precipitous infernal pas- sages of the Old Town. Two hours and more did we spend in scrutinizing these places ; and when we saw or felt their steepness and narrowness, the height of the houses, often projecting over our heads, their length, the subterraneous dwellings which descend from them, their filth, their inhabi- tants — young women and young men, destroying and de- stroyed — we just exclaimed with the hero in the play — ' O horrible, horrible, most horrible ! ' and so left the whole business to go on as we found it. " To-day, we heard Professors Ritchie and Wilson : the last, the author, you know, of some famous works, attracted me much. We then visited the New Town; and the im- pression it produced was exactly the opposite of the Old Town. O delightful, delightful, most delightful ! We then visited Leith : it is nowise very interesting. " The men here are more intelligent-looking — there is more learning in the general face of Edinburgh than in Glasgow ; and the ladies seem stouter ' rackler hizzies ' than those about Glasgow. " Upon the whole, we have been highly delighted, and therefore highly pleased, with our short and wintry excur- sion. Could every week of our life produce as many inter- esting ideas and feelings with as few painful and indifferent ones, we would smile as we looked away into futurity. 222 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " To-morrow, we mean to set off for home with the one o'clock coach. We leave you our blessing, and pray all hap- piness to be with you. « R. POLLOK." It appears that he deferred writing to me, after his return to Glasgow, till the end of January ; when he sent me the following letter, which, besides saying something of himself and his studies at the time, expresses some of his feelings and sentiments in general : — " Glasgow, Jan. SO, 1824. " Dear Brother — I have been waiting these two weeks for the arrival of some things for you from Moorhouse. Some letters have arrived, but nothing else. These I send you with this. " I can send you little interesting news. You will be glad to hear, however, that our friends at Moorhouse are all well ; and so are those in the west. Young David, your nephew, is an extremely pretty child; Robert is famed for his pro- found sagacity. " I have been in the midst of questions about you, and the country around you, since I returned from Auchindinny. I am doing little myself. I neither read nor write poetry, for the present. Homer, which I read only for the Greek, the Greek Testament, French, English history — these I read with some avidity. ' Helen' is in the press. You will have a copy in a few weeks. " I hope you are persevering with pleasure in your studies. There is no fear of doing something if we have determined to do it. Reading or studying, without reading or studying THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 223 for some determinate purpose — with some chosen and appro- priated end in view — is like one walking in an enchanted laby- rinth ; the more he exerts himself, the more is he bewildered and perplexed. It is the want of this which has disgusted me at every thing, and put me out of humour with myself. Avoid this deadly vale, as full of the disappointed hopes and once lofty ideas of scholars, as ever the Valley of the Shadow of Death was full of the bones of pilgrims. By the by, read * The Pilgrim's Progress ; ' it is the funniest and the best system of theology I know. You are enthusiastic, I know, in your love of oratory ; that is, of composing and speaking with glorious effect. Beware of letting it cool. Let your mind frequently turn to those objects which have a tendency to feed your enthusiasm. Listen not a moment to any thing that would advise you from your chosen purpose, and your success is secure. " Write soon. Have you seen Mr Lambie ? Love to the Misses Brown. " R. POLLOK. " Our brother John is named for an elder of the church. I do not know yet whether he will take the birth. I think he ought, as it will be another motive to him for walking in the paths of righteousness. He is fit enough, you know, for the office. " If you can get M'Neill's l Scotland's Scaith and W aes of War,' besides seeing a fine poem, you will see some touches about Roslin Castle, The Banks of Esk, Lasswade, and so on. " How do the young ladies get on in their * labour of love ?' * * Superintending a Sabbath school at Auchindinny, 224 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " I have spent a few nights at Glasgow parties this win- ter. They are not better than country-rockings ; and I see there is a fearful rivalship among the young ladies. O for one night of that light-hearted mirth which we wont to have about Greenside, or Moorhouse, in days of yore ! But I suppose this prayer will be dissipated in empty air. " I had a letter from Mr Pollok, Girvan : he gets on well, speaks of studying seriously, and asks very kindly for you. I expect your next letter in the course of two weeks at longest. " R. P." The following letter to me, which makes the next step on- ward in his history, and in the illustration of his character, while it shows his usual interest in his friends, gives some account of his health, together with the state of his mind, and mentions the kind of study he was pursuing : — " Glasgow, Feb. 11, 1824. " Dear Brother — I hope you have received my letter of the 30th, or thereabout, of last month. The parcels which you mentioned in your last letter, were all duly received by me, and forwarded to their respective destinations. " Our friends at Moorhouse are all well. John, whom I saw to day, says he will answer your letter soon. Young John still gives proofs of more than ordinary talents ; but I doubt there will be no means taken to improve them. He has not been able to go to school during winter, and I suppose he will be needed at home in summer. But if he learn to read and write tolerably, it will perhaps do. I should like very well, however, to see his attention turned to learning ; but, perhaps, it would make him no happier than it has made me : THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 225 why then urge him to it ? But 1 am talking nonsense ; no one knows what course of life is best for any other. " I hope you are quite well. Health is happiness, at least I think it so. These pains still continue to hover about me. They weary my body and they weary my mind ; and in fact, so work, that that force of mind which should be sent abroad in the contemplation of natural and moral scenery, is, almost at every moment, attracted to the feebleness and worthlessness of myself. You are not to think that I am worse than at other times, however. I have still the hope that I shall get rid of them. Even as I am, I can scarcely say that my health is bad. Were my employment any thing other than study, perhaps I would scarcely feel any thing wrong ; but yet, weary and comfortless as I often am, and disappointed as I am at present with myself, I have not yet wished, with all my heart, that I had chosen another course. " I still continue to read Greek, Latin, French, and Eng- lish. This is a miserable letter ; but I shall write as good a one as I can the next time, and you know * angels can no more.' " R. Pollok." During this winter, that is, between the end of October and the end of February, he wrote "Ralph Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family," the one extending to a hundred and fifty-six, and the other to a hundred and seventy-five pages, small octavo. In the beginning of March he was suddenly taken ill in Glasgow ; and to his illness and his recovery from it, the four following letters, two of them to his father, and two of them to myself, relate almost exclusively : — 226 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " Glasgow, March 5, 1824. " Dear Father — On Wednesday last I was seized with an inflammatory sore throat, accompanied with rheumatic affec- tion, which produced considerably high fever. From that time till to-day, the fever rather increased ; but this morning, about one, it began rather to abate ; and at the present time, which is about one o'clock noon, it still gives symp- toms of abatement. From blistering, and vomiting, and sweating, which were thought necessary to stop the progress of the disease, as well as from the painful nature of the disease itself, and my entire inability to eat any thing, I have been reduced to a state of great weakness. You need not be alarmed, however, as both from my own feelings and the opinion of a very skilful physician whom I have employ- ed, nothing serious may be apprehended. I would have written to you sooner, but I wished to be able to say, when I wrote, that I was getting better; and it was only this morning that I felt any change that way. I would be glad to see any of you ; but Margaret * will be most useful. " You see I have been obliged to borrow Mr Marr's hand, not being able to sit out of bed so long as to write the letter myself. — I am, yours, &c. " R. POLLOK." " Rose Street, March 19, 1824. " Dear Father — I am getting fast well. On Wednesday I walked half an hour. Yesterday I walked a whole hour, and felt myself none fatigued. I am, indeed, getting most rapidly stout; and I think my health is much better than it was before I was taken ill. * His youngest surviving sister. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 227 " I have sent you the little book. You are not to say to any body who may see it who is the author. — I am, dear father, yours, &c* « R. Pollok." " Rose Street, March 20, 1824. " Dear Brother — I have had a severe sickness since I wrote to you last. I was taken suddenly ill. It was fever, accom- panied and followed with a violent rheumatic affection. Ten days was I closely confined to bed, and suffered much from the violence of the disease, much also from the vomiting-, blistering, and sweating, ordered by the surgeons ; all of which, however, as they were applied by the best medical skill, had a good effect. I was so weak that I could not stand without assistance — reduced almost to a skeleton ; but was never in what you would call a very danger- ous state ; which was my reason for not ordering a letter to you. " It is now eight days since I rose ; and, ' Bless the Lord, O my soul! and all that is within me' be stirred up to mag- nify and ' bless his holy name,' I am recovering my strength with wonderful rapidity. The fever has burned up the old constitution ; and a new one is fast forming, I trust in many respects better. I am now able to walk out an hour and a half before dinner, and eat most excellently. Indeed, my health is much better than it was before the attack. I am doing nothing yet but nursing myself. " You owe Heaven gratitude on my account. And surely it must be a pleasing sacrifice to the Creator and Preserver of men, to see a brother pouring forth his soul in gratitude 228 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. for a brother, so assisted and cared for as I have been by Almighty Goodness ! " During- my illness I was most piously attended to by my friends. Margaret came, in the fulness of unwearied atten- tion, ministering to my comfort. Miss Campbell came, fleet- ing like the light of heaven, glowing with infinite regard. My father — O how did his countenance comfort me ! John, Mrs Pollok, Miss Janet Pollok, Miss Jean, Robert, all circled round me. And even M., like the star of the morning, lovely, sweet, and glorious, drew near, and threw the gladness of innocence into my heart. My friends in Glasgow were equally attentive. Mr Marr was the stay which God Almighty placed at my right hand. Rejoice with me, my brother. And * bless the Lord, O my soul ! ' " I received your parcel of letters yesterday, and had the opportunity of dispatching them all the same day. Write directly. " R. Pollok." " Rose Street, March 30, 1824. " Dear Brother — Yours of the 27th I received this morning. I have nothing to say, save that I am now well recovered, able to employ myself as usual ; and my spirits rather better than formerly. Our friends, for any thing I have heard, are all well. In the course of a week or two I shall speak of coming to see you. « R. Pollok." In a few days after writing this letter, he came to see me again at Auchindinny ; and on his visit to me at this time he THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 229 wrote the verses on his sister Janet's death, quoted above at page 11. On leaving him in my room one morning at ten o'clock, I said to him, as he and I happened to be speaking of our sister, that he was to remember he had yet to write some- thing or other to keep her in remembrance ; and on returning to him at twelve o'clock, mid-day, he had the verses written and lying on the table. They were then addressed, in the second person, to her daughter, his niece, Janet Young, describing her mother's death-bed scene, and the copy of them, which he then wrote, is now in my possession. His main reason for coming east at this time was, to try to dispose, in Edinburgh, of the manuscripts of " Ralph Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family." The result or success of his attempts, first and last, to dispose of these manuscripts, and the effects of it upon his mind, will be seen in the progress of the narrative, from a series of his letters to me respecting them. The first of these letters was written immediately on his return to Glasgow, which was the day after he left me at Auchindinny ; where he had stayed only a day or two. It is as follows : — * Glasgow, April 9, 1824. " Dear Brother — My coming to Edinburgh has been unfruit- ful. The gentleman of whom I spoke did not purchase the manuscripts. They were exactly to his own taste, he said, but he was afraid they would not suit the taste of the public, which in that kind of composition was horribly corrupt. I left one of the manuscripts with another bookseller, but have scarcely any hope that he will purchase it. " When a man is rolling a stone up a hill, and can get no 230 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. block on which to rest it for a little, or rather, when he is disappointed of the one at which he had fatigued himself grasping, he is in rather a forlorn case. You can apply the simile to my situation. The stone will not crush me, how- ever ; we shall rather let it down again, although it should endanger two or three on-lookers at the foot of the hill. " You will see the happiness of having something to do, which depends not so much, as I have been doing of late, on the caprice of a present evil world. I would rather be made to ride the stang, a very severe kind of punishment, than write to please the taste of that part of the public, whose praise, admitting we could gain it, is by no means worth the having. " My ideas are at a stand just now. Trifling as the sum of money is which I am in the immediate need of, it makes me somewhat uneasy, because I do not see how I am to get it. You would be right in saying, that I ought to have employed myself at something whose fruit would have been sure. I should, there is no doubt of it. Well, well, I must just think a day or two, and see to make the best of a bad job. " I did not write to you from Edinburgh, because I left it with a boat at seven o'clock on Thursday evening, and I took the resolution to go by it a few minutes only before we set off. I arrived safely about ten next morning. You may expect to hear from me in the course of two or three weeks. I believe I shall leave Glasgow soon for the country. " R. POLLOK." In very little more than two weeks after the date of this letter, I heard from him as follows : — THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 231 " Glasgow, April 25, 1824. 11 Dear Brother — I send you with this a manuscript,* which you may try to sell in Edinburgh. Brown, Waugh & Innes, and Oliphant, you need not try. Robertson, Parliament Square, try first ; then Oliver & Boyd, or whoever you may think best. If you get money offered, let it go. Ten or fifteen guineas is as much as I expect. Indeed, I do not expect you will get money offered, but you may try. If you will take the trouble to go into town on a Saturday after- noon, it will be best just to leave it till next Saturday ; but do as you please. Of the manuscript f 1 left in Edinburgh, I have yet heard nothing. " After you have made all the trials you think necessary, send me an account of your labours, but not till then ; for as I am sine denario, I wish to have little money called for. But write to me in the way of friendship as often as conve- nient. " Our friends are all well. Our mother, indeed, is not very strong, but is getting rather better. " Remember me to the Misses Brown. Thank them kindly for their attention to me when I was last there. " The time of your enjoyment will now be coming. The banks of the Logan and the Esk will be putting on their leafy garments, and lifting up their song, tuned to the purity of nature, to invite you forth to health and happiness. Happy may you be ! The man who does his duty needs not be otherwise. " To avoid expenses, I will write as seldom as I can ; but * That of " Ralph Gemmell." t That of « The Persecuted Family." 232 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. when I have any thing to tell you worth a sixpence, I will write. « R. POLLOK." The manuscript of " Ralph Gemmell," which Robert sent with this letter, was tried according to his directions, and left with Mr Robertson for perusal ; but was soon returned to him unsold, along with " an account of my labours." In the beginning of May, he wrote to me respecting the manuscript of " The Persecuted Family/' which he had left in Edinburgh, as follows : — " Glasgow, May 3, 1824. " Dear Brother — As I have got a letter from our father to transmit to you, I take the opportunity of saying a word or two on my own account. I am putting you to too much trouble, but you must excuse me. I wish you to deliver the letter as soon as convenient to Mr Waugh, the gentleman with whom I left the manuscript when in Edinburgh. Should he give you the manuscript which I have required him to do if he is not pleased with it, you may try to sell it from thirty to fifteen guineas. If Mr Waugh have any other orders to me, send them. I wish you would write to me, at any rate, by the end of next week. " Mr Marr received your letter. Have you received mine, with the manuscript (of ' Ralph Gemmell ? ') « R. POLLOK." " Waugh and Innes — any body can tell you where their shop is." On the 17th of the same month he wrote to me again. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 233 By that time, as the letter will show, he had left Glasgow and gone to Moorhouse, and was interestingly employed, part of every day, in giving lessons in reading to his nephew John Pollok and his niece Janet Young, the one ten years of age and the other nine. The letter is as follows : — « Moorhouse, May 17, 1824. " Dear Brother — I have received the manuscript from Mr Waugh. He would tell you that it was sent away. You will write to me by the Messrs Taylor. " I have now left Glasgow for some time ; and if nothing occur to bind me to a particular spot, I shall wander, for I know not how long, over the face of the earth, and it may be the face of the sea too. Mr Marr has gone home to his father. " I have been at Moorhonse eight or ten days. John and Janet read to me daily. They are both excellent scholars — little hurt by the here-and-there system of education under which they exist. John's intellectual powers, as far as they can be judged at this early period, are of the best kind. He has begun the Latin Rudiments with vigour. This day he is at penna, and he will clear it off without a hanker. He has also begun to read in Adam's Lessons, for that is my sys- tem. But the loss is, I fear my stay at Moorhouse will be too short to do him much good. As his memory is excellent, it will be the less hurtful to him, however, that he be irregu- larly attended to. " The young ladies, I understand, are gathering about you in an exceeding great multitude.* I have read an author, who affirms the most of them to be ' incarnate devils.' * This was at an examination of Auchindinny school, which was pa- tronized by a number of ladies of piety and benevolence. U 234 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. At any rate, we know for certain that the poet Orpheus was torn to pieces on Mount Rhodope by women — an awful ex- ample to future generations ! A man may be torn to pieces on the banks of the Esk as well as on the mountains of Thrace. " R. POLLOK." Towards the end of the month, he set out on a long-pro- mised visit to his friend, Mr Pollok, at Girvan, and made thence an excursion southward as far as the Water of Luce, in Galloway. Of this visit, Mr Pollok gives the following interesting account in a letter to me, written from his recol- lections of it : — " Manse of Buckhaven, Jan. 29, 1841. " My Dear Friend — It was in the end of May 1824, that your brother Robert paid me a visit at Girvan — a place which yet forms a green spot in my recollections, and shall continue for ever embalmed in my heart by many pleasing associations. He was accompanied by his bosom friend Mr Marr, and by Mr Meikle, a young author, of whose talents I had often heard him speak very favourably. Impelled by the ardour of youth, and all three poetic admirers of nature, they prose- cuted their journey on foot — a mode of travelling which your brother said he preferred to any other, as they could linger where the scene required examination, or turn aside to see any worthy object ; not to suspect that they had another reason for a pedestrian journey — their imaginations being far more fertile than their purses. " They came from Mauchline by way of Dalrymple, on the banks of the Doon ; and there they crossed that celebrated stream, which every child of the Muses visits with transport, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 235 from its hallowed associations with the life and writings of the immortal, but ever-to-be-lamented Burns. They stood on the bridge and surveyed the river, while they hummed over in concert, ' Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonny Doon.' " On leaving this, an incident occurred illustrative of your brother's command over his risible faculties. While he and Mr Meikle were sitting in a farm-house on the wayside, where they had called to make some enquiries about the country, Mr Marr — having lingered behind, and being in pos- session of some copies of Mr Meikle's poems — entered the house, having his coat off, thrown over his shoulder, his hat side in front, and a stout coarse stick in his hand, and said, with the Irish accent, * Well, mistress, are you for any poems to-day ? ' ' No,' said the good woman, ' I hae mae books nor I can mak a guid use oY ' Won't you look at them ? ' said he ; ' they are all in the Scottish dialect, and said to be as good as Burns, and besides they are fine paper and print.' ' Young gentleman,' said he, turning to your brother, ' won't you buy them ? ' ' No,' said he gravely, ' I am too like the mistress.' i Very well,' said Mr Marr, retiring and pronoun- cing over them the Hibernian blessing ; when the mistress observed that the country was very loose at present. *■ Yes,' said your brother with unshaken gravity, ' and even that is a very dangerous-looking character ! ' " They proceeded thence towards Dailly, along the banks of the Girvan, where the view terminates with high hills, whose verdant sides were clothed with luxuriant pasturage nearly to the summit, where it mingles with the brown heath, and combines the beautiful and romantic. Here was much to inflame and swell their bosoms with poetic inspiration : Girvan's murmuring and winding stream, inwoven in Scottish 238 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. song ; the trees robed in their summer dress, united to the melody of birds, the lowing of herds, and the bleating of sheep, combined with the marks of human industry and com- fort, were all rich materials to move a poetic fancy ; and they spoke of the scene afterwards with rapture and enthusiasm. On their arrival at Girvan, no one could have said by their appearance what they were, or what they were about. Your brother wore a short coat, light brown and single-breasted, with clear buttons, drab vest and trousers, and a broad-brimmed hat ; which, with his dark keen eye, firm countenance, manly form, and quick active manner, gave him a very interesting appearance. I never saw him look so well ; but I must say he was more like an heir to a country squireship than a student in theology. As for Mr Marr, you perceived at once that he was very much at ease about his dress ; but he carried along with him an air of kindness and simplicity. Honesty and benevolence beamed in his eye. You were irresistibly prepossessed in his favour before you spoke to him, and after you had, you felt pleased that you had not committed any mistake ; you found in him a liberal mind and a guileless heart. Of Mr Meikle's appearance I have not so distinct a recollection ; but, being poetical and humorous, well-read, and a young aspirant to authorship, he was an agreeable fellow-traveller. " On the evening of their arrival they surveyed the town of Girvan, situated on a large plain at the influx of the river of that name into the sea ; and they contemplated with rap- ture the magnificent scene — on the south a moorish and mountainous country, on the north-west the Frith of Clyde, rolling his majestic waves with the power and grandeur of the ocean; in the distance, on the north, Goatfell and the THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 237 other peaks of Arran, penetrating the clouds, and the rocky boundaries of the Frith stretching to the Mull of Kintyre ; Ailsa Craig, sitting in the middle in solitary grandeur, pre- senting, amidst the waves, its bare summit to the blue sky. " Next morning they left me at Girvan, with a promise to meet me on the third day thereafter on the banks of the Stinchar, at Kirkdamdie fair, which, being then a Scottish Donnybrook, your brother wished to see for its exhibitions of human nature ; and they proceeded westward along the shore towards Portpatrick. The road at that time ascended the hills, from which they had an unbroken continuation of forlorn and awful grandeur onward to the foot of Glenapp, whither they directed their course. It was elevated, at an average, four and five hundred feet above the sea, whose sonorous and restless waves they saw ever moving and ever breaking on the shelvy rocks beneath them, as the road winded at one time along the side of the steep ascent, or at another along the top of the precipice, whose broken crags and rugged irregularity told them what convulsions of nature had happened there. " Four miles from Girvan they turned aside from their path, and ascended Ardmillan hill ; where an incident occurred which your brother has beautifully described in the fifth Book of " The Course of Time." It was the rolling of stones down the hill. They afterwards descended to the bottom of the declivity, down which the stones had rushed with impetu- osity into the sea, where they discovered a little plain beneath a small precipice, opposite to which the sea had formed a smooth narrow bay ; and whenever your brother saw it, he exclaimed, " O Marr ! what if two lovers had met here, * to 238 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. live one day of parting love/ and had fallen in this luckless hour by thy cruel hand ! " This incident made a deep impres- sion on your brother's mind, and never left it. It was among the first things he related to me after we met ; and, when he and Mr Marr took their last farewell, he reminded him of what might have happened by the rolling of stones down Ardmillan hill, and requested him never to engage in that amusement again. " Having bathed in the small bay, they proceeded onward to Ballantrae ; where they crossed the Stinchar just above its influx into the sea. They lingered some time on the bridge, and your brother was very much delighted with the water and the salmon, which they saw numerously playing beneath. Leaving the shore at this place, they went right into the inte- rior. They ascended a range of hills south of Ballantrae, and, just as they gained the lofty summit of Ard-stinchar, the sun was disappearing behind Goatfell. The scene was magni- ficent. It was the calm of a summer eve, when the heat of the day is past, and the dews have not yet fallen ; when the wind has ceased, and the cool breeze of night has not begun to blow. The sea moved, but no breath curled the top of the blue wave. Burnished by the amber rays from the red clouds, its surface ever sparkled before their eyes. Not a voice was heard but the chattering of the swallow or the screeching of the sea-fowl along the distant beach. Ailsa Craig and Knockdollion sat like twin sisters in the midst of the scene, The Mull of Kintyre and the mouth of the vast Atlantic lay before them. On the left, their eyes stretched over the heath-clad hills that impend Glenapp and Loch Ryan, and far along the coast of Ireland. This was a scene that your THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 239 brother esteemed worth all the fatigue of their journey ; and they gazed on it till it became shaded in the dimness of approaching night. " Turning from this scene, they proceeded inward into a district the most wild, barren, and uncultivated ; which they continued to survey till its gloom was brightened by the splen- dour of the starry heavens, with no other expectation than to be exposed to the chilly dampness all night ; when the barking of a dog directed their course to a solitary light before them, which proceeded from a moorland farm-house ; where they asked for shelter, and were welcomed to such ac- commodation as the dwelling could afford. " Next day, they proceeded across the moor as far as the Water of Luce, and bore in on Cairn- Ryan ; which was the farthest point of their journey southward. Here your brother expressed a wish to go forward to Stranraer to see Mr Smellie,* whose goodness of heart and other excellences he much admired ; but their engagement with me next day, prevented them. They returned along the banks of Loch Ryan and up Glenapp, which extends from the shores of the loch about five miles northward ; and whose varied scenery very much cheered their spirits. They passed through it at mid-day, and the natural beauties of the glen made them linger on this sweet spot longer than on any other part of their journey. Your brother named it the Land of the Cuckoo, as they were saluted in every direction by that favourite of the Muses. " Leaving* Glenapp, they proceeded to Colmonel, where they passed the night in the house of Mrs Blair, widow of * Minister of one of the United Secession congregations in that town. 240 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. the late Rev. John Blair, long minister of the Secession church in that place. " Next day they met me on the Stinchar, at Kirkdamdie fair, which was then held about ten miles above Colmonel ; but we soon left it, resolved never to meet at it again. Though your brother, both as a poet and philosopher, appreciated the exhi- bition of human nature which he had witnessed there, he felt also as a Christian in regard to it, and expressed his sorrow that such things should exist. " They remained with me the following day at Girvan, and we spent the afternoon, by invitation, in the house of a worthy friend of mine, Mr M' William, lawyer; whose accomplished lady was very versant in the literature then issuing from the press ; and she and your brother, soon find- ing that they were kindred spirits, entered very minutely and extensively into the merits of the authors whose works they had read. This was the first opportunity that I had had, after leaving college, of knowing that your brother had ac- quired so extensive an acquaintance with general literature ; and I was surprised to find how much he had read. The manner in which he discussed and valued the merits of an author, pointed out his prominent features, his peculiar worth, and his greatest defects, together with the immense number of books, both in poetry and prose, that he showed he had read, pleased and astonished all present. Of Byron he said, that he always appears, in some form, as the hero of his piece ; and of Burns, that his greatest power lay in the ease and simplicity with which he represented men and things exactly as they are. " We all reflected on this meeting with pleasure ; which THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 241 your brother esteemed as a sweet and unexpected oasis in the desert. I may add, that I often heard Mrs M' William say of him afterwards, that he was the cleverest young man she had ever met with; and that he continued to make occasional enquiries about this worthy lady and her family as long as he lived. — I am, my dear friend, yours faithfully, " Robert Pollok." In the middle of June, soon after his return to Moorhouse from what has been called his Girvan visit or Glenapp excur- sion, he wrote to me respecting the manuscripts of " Ralph Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family" as follows : — * Moorhouse, June 15, 1842.. " Dear Brother — I received yours of June 7th in due time. I cannot return the manuscript of (' Ralph Gemmell') before the end of next week, as I intend to write it all out again. I will make several corrections, and some little additions. Your determination of burning the manuscript * was worthy both of you and me. " I would not have written to you till next week, had I not, being a kind of post-office or secretary for Auchindinny affairs, had beside me some letters for you, which I have already kept too long. I take the opportunity of sending with them a manuscript which you have not yet seen.f It is longer, you will see, than * Ralph ;' and, although chiefly designed for youth, intended for youth at a more advanced period. It may be read, perhaps, by young men. The design of the piece is, to show what powerful consolation * Rather than agree to some unworthy proposal of a bookseller, t This was the manuscript of M The Persecuted Family." 242 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. religion can give in most unpleasing circumstances in life ; and, while it guards the mind of the reader against the bad tendency of those widely-spread books which ridicule the memories of our persecuted ancestors, to impress his mind with a veneration of their firmness, and inspire into it the ardour of their piety. You will judge whether I have been successful or not. Make what corrections you can. Leave no errors uncorrected. It has just now a considerable number • — slips in orthography and other little things. It is rather badly written too : if you have any difficulty in making out any word, score it out, and write it more plainly above. Two of the chapters want mottoes. I will send them to you with i Ralph,' and you will write them. Give it to Mr Robertson, along with the other manuscript when it comes. I shall mention it to him in a letter which, God willing, I shall send along with the manuscript. " I have been in the west country lately, but have no news. " R. POLLOK. " Our friends, I had said, are all well ; but Miss Campbell, as she will probably tell you in her letter, is in a very poor state of health." A week after writing this letter, he sent tome the manuscript of " Ralph Gemmell," accompanied by a letter to Mr Robert- son, and the following one to me, chiefly in reference to the two manuscripts, which had now both received his last cor- rections : — " Moorhouse, June 22, 1824. " Dear Brother — Be so kind as give the manuscripts to Mr Robertson. I will give them no more correction, neither the one nor the other of them. If you can sell them as they are, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 243 one or both of them, good and well ; if not, I shall light my pipe with them. And I would far rather do this last than give them for a trifle. I do not look for fame from them. If they do not bring me money, then why should I print them ? If Robertson print them, you will perhaps correct the sheets. " I should like very well to come and see you, but I am out of travelling expenses. My father talks of coming to see you about the beginning of July. I do not say that he will certainly be, however ; but I am advising him, and he says he would like very much. " I expect to hear from you soon ; and when you do write, let me have some local news — something about Auchindinny. Be as short as you can on the manuscripts business, as the simple thought of them is very apt to sicken me. " R. PoLLOK. "N.B — I shall try to write you one decent letter yet, before the Hall. Do you mean to come at the commencement, or when? " You may seal Mr Robertson's letter after you have read it. The observations on the criticisms you can give him, or not, as you think fit.* " I have not sent you the mottoes I spoke of. If the piece sell, I shall send them." His letter to Mr Robertson, together with his " observa- tions on the criticisms," was delivered to that gentleman, along with the manuscripts of " Ralph Gemmell " and " The Persecuted Family," both of which he soon proceeded to * These were observations made by him on criticisms written on the MSS. by some critics, to whose consideration Mr Robertson had submitted them. 244 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. print ; though, as will be seen afterwards, a bargain was not completed with him for the copyright of them till November, when it was finally sold to him for twenty guineas. According to his promise, he did "try to write" me "one decent letter before the Hall." How he succeeded in his trial the letter itself will show. While it indicates his feel- ings with respect to his own late endeavours, it expresses some of his sentiments on the most important of all subjects — the subject of personal happiness. As a whole, it extends considerably the memoir of his mind and the record of his opinions. It is as follows : — " Moorhouse, July 28, 1824. ** Dear Brother — Would any of those invisible spiritual beings which are reported to be so nimble in their motions, and to possess so great a potency over the affairs of mortals, take upon it, at this moment, the trouble of informing me what you most desire me to write, and what you are most interested in, I would certainly gratify you to the utmost ; as I have, unfortunately, no particular interests of my own that might divert me from yours. I have nothing to say of myself, but that I have nothing to say of myself. " Nothing has made me glad, for the last two or three months, except the account of your happiness. It pleases me exceedingly to hear that you are, in some considerable mea- sure, satisfied with your own endeavours ; which, in your case, must be worthy, and calculated to open for you, as you proceed, purer and more abundant sources of enjoyment. Satisfaction with one's self is the chief ingredient in that cup of happiness which all, except the hopeless, seek after. And if I thought that exhortation on this subject might be of any THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 245 profit from one who lias refused it himself, I would most willingly spend much time in persuading you to be satisfied with yourself. Satisfaction arises out of active and manly endeavours ; and those endeavours, which are necessary to peace of mind, have their origin in the interest that we take in general existence. The deeper and wider, therefore, our interest in being is, the more extensive and vigorous will be our endeavours ; and so, if they are rightly directed, will be the depth and calm of the self-esteem which arises out of them. The tree that spreads its roots most widely, strikes them most deeply, and interweaves them most intimately and most numerously with the soil that surrounds it, puts forth the most luxuriant branches, and becomes the pride of the forest. So the man that holds the deepest sympathy with that system of things in which God hath placed him, shall have the greatest share of happiness in himself, and be the most honourable in the judgment of reason. It is absurd to say, that satisfaction with one's self excludes improvement. Whoever shall think it worth while to exa- mine the matter, shall see that it is one of the chief causes which prompt to it. So necessary, indeed, is it to this pur- pose, that without some reasonable degree of it, exertion, and therefore improvement, will cease. To be pleased with one's self above what sober reason dictates, may render one some- what offensive to his fellow-creatures, and may be ultimately attended with some inconvenience to himself; but to be utterly dissatisfied with all our endeavours, to lose all interest in being, all sympathy with nature, is, as the ghost in Ham- let says, ' Horrible, horrible, most horrible !' " R. POLLOK. 246 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " I expect to hear from you soon. Our mother is at Helensburgh ; where I left her last Saturday. Your return is impatiently waited for." In August, he and I met again at the Hall, and our corre- spondence by letter was suspended till its close. His dis- course, this session, was a critical exercise, the text of which was 1 Peter iv. 18, " And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear ?" In pre- paring the exereise, he consulted, on the passage, partly for information and partly for curiosity, six or eight commen- taries ; " some of them,'' as he said hyperbolically, u such enormous tomes that it would have required a steam-engine of six-horse-power to open two of their leaves ; " and he was much amused in finding that almost every one of them gave a different view of it, at least of the words rendered " scarcely," and " saved." He thought therefore, he said, as they were all equal in authority, he might be as safe to give a different view of it from any of them, especially as he tried to take his from the context. For the use of these commentaries, it may be added, he was indebted to the kind- ness of several obliging individuals, booksellers and others, in Glasgow. For one of them, namely Poole's " Synopsis," he applied to the Rev. now Dr William Kidston, who, with characteristic frankness, readily gave him access to it. " Mr Kidston," he said to me, on his return from consulting the " Synopsis," " frankly and familiarly led me into his library, and not only showed me the ponderous folios of the work, and helped me to raise them from the under-shelves to the table — no small labour, either, for two of us — but assisted me in turning over their massive leaves, a most needful piece of THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 247 service." Besides consulting so many commentaries, he took, otherwise, much pains in preparing the exercise, and, on delivery, it was, like his former discourses, approved of by the Professor. In the course of the session, he told me of a circumstance which had given him great encouragement in writing ; and it seems proper to mention it here, on account of the happy effect which it produced on him. He had been gratified, he said, since he saw me, by a most encouraging criticism from that great and good man, Dr Ferrier of Paisley ; for he had always been severely criti- cized by little men and little critics. They would allow him no talents, and he thought God had given him some talent. For a good while he gave no heed to them, and they had no impression on him ; but at length, as they were most per- tinacious and clamorous in their severity, he began to think that, perhaps, they might be right — that he might be only deceiving himself — that he might really, after all, have no literary talent. About this time, Glasgow Presbytery having been divided into committees for superintending the studies of the students under the inspection of that Presby- tery, he was appointed to Paisley committee, and the cir- cumstance gave him pleasure, as, knowing that Dr Ferrier would be a member of it, he said he would have it determi- ned now whether he had talent for writing or not. As soon as he got a text, which was these words in 1 Thess. v. 21, " Prove all things," he sat down and wrote a discourse, expressly for Dr Ferrier's criticism. He hoped it would draw his attention ; and he knew that he would learn by his criticism whether he should believe the little critics or not. If the doctor condemned the discourse, he 248 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. thought he might give up the idea of writing any thing ; if he approved of it, he was resolved to entertain the idea as formerly, and write when and what he pleased, in spite of the critics. In due time he went and delivered the dis- course in Paisley to the committee at one of its meetings ; and when he had done so, all the members of committee, except Dr Ferrier, fell foul of his discourse, one after another, and condemned it altogether : they found fault with every thing about it — pronounced it erroneous — and declared they could not sustain it. When they had sat down, Dr Ferrier, who had now a fine opportunity for showing his independence of thinking, rose with his accustomed dignity, and delivered, in his best style, a most elaborate criticism, nearly as long as the discourse itself which called it forth. He showed the most intimate and familiar acquaintance with the subject of which it treated; and his remarks were at the same time systematic and copious. He criticized every thing about it — plan, arrangement, ideas, doctrine, reasoning, composition, style, every thing. He took up almost every idea that was in it, and set it in its proper light or legitimate bearing. He seemed to enter into the writer's very thoughts and train of thinking, and to see exactly what he had in view when he was writing it; and having defended it, with great ability, against all the objections of the other members of committee, he cleared it fairly of the charge of error, " Mr Pollok," he said, " was bordering on error, but he was never erroneous." He then stated his own opinion of the discourse ; and, on the whole, gave a most favourable view of it. " The discourse," he added, " was good in itself, and indicated supe- rior talent and capacity for thinking and writing." In speaking of the style, he said it was characterized by three THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. 249 qualities, which Robert said he had long laboured, and was most desirous, to attain — perspicuity, conciseness, and energy. Before sitting down, besides strongly expressing his appro- bation of the discourse, he mildly, but firmly and impressively, represented to the other members of committee the propriety of sustaining it, and it was sustained accordingly. But had it not been for Dr Ferrier — such is the influence, the power, of greatness and goodness — it would not have been received. So Robert left the committee, determined, he said, thencefor- ward to give no heed to little men and less critics, but to take courage and go on writing with vigour. During this session of the Hall, he was better known and more taken notice of among his fellow-students than for- merly. He had also more intercourse with them ; and he gained the respect, esteem, and friendship of those, who were a considerable number of the whole, with whom he associated freely. In November, this year, he entered as a student of theo- logy in the Divinity Hall of the University of Glasgow, under the professorship of the Rev. Stevenson Macgill, D.D., and he attended it regularly both that session and the next one ; and this he did, as he was in Glasgow at any rate, to get all the instruction he could on the important subject of theology, as also to have access to the college Divi- nity Hall Library, which contained many valuable books that he wished to consult. For this Hall he wrote, while attending it, one sermon, the text of which was Mat. v. 8, " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." In the middle of November he had occasion to go to Edinburgh once more about the manuscripts ; and he paid 250 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. me a third visit at Auchindinny. From Edinburgh, on his way back to Glasgow, he wrote me the following letter, telling me that he had " completed a bargain with Mr Robertson" for the copyright of the two tales, " Ralph Gemmell" and " The Persecuted Family:" — " Edinburgh, Nov. 22, 1824. " Dear Brother — I have completed a bargain with Mr Robertson. Five guineas I have received, you know. I am to receive fifteen guineas more for the two manuscripts before the middle of January. The bargain is on black and white. " Mr Robertson is very fond I should write more for him. But God only knows what I shall do. I have written to Mr Elliot,* informing him that I cannot go to Ford. Do you approve of it ? " I mean to set off for Glasgow to-morrow morning. I am just now in Mr Sommerville's (inn, Grassmarket.) ** < The Persecuted Family' is pretty correct, to have had no corrector but a printer's reader.f It has many errors, however, especially in punctuation. " I shall expect to hear from you in the course of ten days. I wish you would remember me to Miss ; I mean the good one. I cannot bear the thought of being totallv forgotten by her. May God be with you, my dear brother ! « R. Pollok." Such was the u manuscripts business ;" than which, first and last, when taken in connexion with the success of the * Minister of the United Secession congregation at Ford, from whom he had an application for teaching there. f I had not been asked to " correct the sheets." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 251 Tales immediately after their publication, as well as more recently, nothing could more plainly evince the incapacity of the publishers to whom they were offered, to judge of their merits, or more clearly display their ignorance of " the taste of the public in compositions of that kind ?" To how many publishers were they offered only to be refused? What difficulty to find even one that would offer money for them, or think of publishing them on any terms ? and what a small sum obtained for them after all ! No wonder " the simple thought of them " was " very apt to sicken " him ! It seems proper to subjoin a few words here with respect to his feelings in reference to the authorship of the three Tales, « Helen of the Glen," « Ralph Gemmell," and « The Persecuted Family" — all of them being now published with his name. In the first, and in every subsequent edition of them, printed during his lifetime, these Tales were anonymous. He never owned, and was resolved never to own, the author- ship of them. How then, it may perhaps be asked, did they come to be published with his name ? and why speak, or give an account of his writing them ? The reply to this is short and easy. Not long after his death they were all three, not only without the consent of his relations, but in disregard of their strongly expressed wishes, published, by the proprie- tors of the copyright, with the author's name. After this, to speak of them in writing his Life, became indispensable ; and in doing so, as it could not be denied that they were his, the only way seemed to be, to give a full and detailed account of the circumstances under which they were written. 252 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. CHAPTER IX. While lie was on his visit at Auchindinny in the month of November, he told me that he had begun at Moorhouse, in the end of October, " a history" of himself, in a letter which he meant, on his return to Glasgow, to finish and send me. Contrary, however, to his intention, he did not do so ; but I found it among his papers after his death. It is a memoir of his mind from the time that he turned his attention to literature in 1815. While it supplies several intentional omissions in the preceding narrative, it confirms some things stated there, and illustrates and explains others. It is as follows : — « Moorhouse, Oct. 31, 1824. " Dear Brother — To speak often of one's unhappiness, how- ever great may be the cause, is received by the world, and justly, as the sure token of a weak and querulous mind. To complain to those who can give us no redress, is foolish ; to those who will not hear, mean ; to those who will laugh at our sorrow, or entertain it coldly, bitterness, mingled with gall ; and so will the tale of our woes be received by the bulk of mankind. Who, knowing this, will say that it is not weakness and folly to complain ? " Yet there is one heart so attuned by the finger of God THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 253 to every thrill that quivers over the hiddenest and tenderest strings of ours, that to conceal our sorrows from it would be to throw discord into the harmony of nature ; yet there is one ear so sacred, that we can speak in it as in the ear of heaven ; and one faith so inviolate, that we can trust to it as we trust to the decrees of eternity. It is the heart, the ear, the faith, of friendship. And yet I would not trouble even you with the history of my perplexity, had I not, in some measure, now got out of it. " From the first moment I turned my attention to litera- ture, I felt within me, for I shall speak plainly, a strong desire, not without much confidence of success, of doing something in that way that might benefit both my contem- poraries and those who should come after me. For some time desire and faith increased ; and however much my studies might be hindered, and my hours, now and then, sad- dened by the want of health and accidental vexations, the march of my improvement was rapid, and the tenor of my way glorious and happy. I finished whatever I undertook ; and, although seldom pleased with the execution, yet often satisfied. I never envied my companions, nor even any of my contemporaries ; for I was daily bringing my soul to the trial of those standards of excellence which time hath left stand- ing behind him, and which come more into view, and are established more firmly, by every hour that passes over them. " Till the time that I took, along with you, my degree in arts, and for a twelvemonth after I left college, this steady purpose of concentrating my exertions in some excellent literary enterprize, the effects of which should be lasting, had been little shaken, and my thoughts seldom broken and 254 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. interrupted by the consideration of circumstances. Then, however, I began to think seriously how unreasonable it was to put my father to any more expenses ; and to feel how ina- dequate all that he could spare me was for maintaining- me in that way — no extravagant one as you know — in which I wished to live. He had already given me an education beyond his circumstances — for which, I trust, God shall reward him by me — and not only without ever saying, or seeming to think, that I was burdensome to him, but acom- panying every farthing I received from him with a look of as much satisfaction and paternal sweetness, as I had put into his hand some gift of my filial affection. He never complained ; but he had given me the means of knowing my duty ; and every thought now began to be imbued, and every plan tried, by the need I was in of gaining something for myself. " Poetry had been hitherto the darling of my soul ; and all my studies had been conducted, and my observations on the world made, with the design of accomplishing myself in that art, for which, I thought, nature had intended me. But I could not bear the idea of writing hastily, or of being forced to let any thing out of my hands, before I had made it as perfect as I could by time and pains. Especially in that divine art, which I looked upon, and which I do still look upon, as the noblest employment of the mind of man, I could not, for a moment, endure the thought of making an attempt, hurried by the pressure of circumstances ; or of making any thing of that sort public, that I did not think excellent at least myself. Then first my mind began to shift its aim, and to think of the shortest road to independence. Then first envy of the fortune of those who are born to affluence THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 255 rankled in my breast ; and I began to acknowledge the force of circumstances over the mind, and to feel how much indeed genius is ' Checked by the scoff of pride, by envy's frown, And poverty's unconquerable bar.' The immediate need of realizing money put me upon a thousand schemings averse to my nature, which, after they had been entertained for a little, were laid aside for others, as soon abandoned, from the same cause. Accident, about this time, drove me into a path which did, indeed, gain me some- thing ; but which was so totally different from that track in which I had been preparing myself to move, that I neither wished, nor could hope, to excel in it.* To write below one's own ideas of excellence, to write sometimes merely to fill up a certain number of pages, to write against inclination, and habit of thought — Oh, it is anguish inexpressible ! It is worse, surely worse, than want itself. But there were many respectable paths in polite literature as well as my favourite one, in which I had some inclination to enter, and for the prosecution of which I had some conviction of ability ; and I had a hundred times nearly resolved to commence my career in some one of them. But either the want of satisfac- tion, which I felt I should have even had I excelled in some of them, or the numberless books to which access would have been necessary to the accomplishment of some of my wavering designs, and chiefly the time which it would have taken to have satisfied myself even moderately — for it was ill to bear the thought of writing, in any department, less excellently * This was, no doubt, from the summer of 1823 till that of 1824, within which time he wrote the three Tales, noticed above. 256 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. than one could — compelled me to stop just when I was begin- ning-. Becoming more wavering by every broken resolution, and more careless what I should choose to do as the pressure of circumstances was more severely felt, I sometimes threw an eye over those unhallowed regions in which so many of the sons of genius sport themselves amidst the smiles of fortune ; and although I knew that on them and their works would soon come down the clouds of deep and everlasting forgetfulness — almost regardless of the true voice of fame, which is the praise of God and nature, given to real ex- cellence, and which is never first uttered by the multitude — almost regardless of the voice of my Creator, speaking in my conscience — there were moments when I thought of venturing on the unhallowed ground, however dreadful might be the consequences. But God did not leave me to my- self. The resolution of engaging in what should be of bad result, or even productive only of negative good, vanished before it was made, and my soul trembled at the recollection of it. " While my mind was thus agitated with a multitude of hostile thoughts, poetry, which I held too sacred to be mingled with them, was shut up in the secret recesses of my heart, and I still indulged the hope, that whatever should engage me for a time, should not prevent me from devoting to it, erelong, my chief attention. But, like the flower that has been removed from the rays of the sun, and the breezes of health, I saw it withering in a soil which had ceased to cherish it. The ideas, which I had collected with pleasure, and which I reckoned peculiarly my own, were dropping away one after another. Fancy was returning from her flight ; Memory giving up her trust ; what was vigorous THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 257 becoming weak ; and what was cheerful and active, dull and indolent." Thus far he had proceeded in writing ; and here he has stopped, and left the account unfinished. With what sympa- thetic feelings of wonder, and distressful concern, does it leave us ! It is the less to be regretted, however, that he has not finished it, as the subject has been resumed in a passage in his published writings, and so far prosecuted as to form, in effect, a conclusion to the letter. In the third Book of " The Course of Time," after speaking of disappointment, he proceeds, in illustration, with a description in reference to himself, coinciding in substance with the above, to the last nineteen verses, which bring the subject of it to a conclu- sion.* In the beginning of January he wrote to me from Glasgow ; and his letter carries forward his history to that time. It is, most of it, in reality though not in form, a continuation of the memoir of himself, inserted immediately above : and a happy continuation it is. While the former closes in list- lessness and despondency, leaving us in withering vacuity, the latter opens in activity and hope, bringing us into enliven- ing realities. He had now, not only " in some measure," but altogether, "got out of his "perplexity." "The ideas, which" he "had collected with pleasure, and which" he "reckoned peculiarly" his " own," were dropping "in one after another ; Fancy was returning " to " her flight ; Me- mory" taking " up her trust ; what was becoming weak had become vigorous ; and what was dull and indolent, cheerful * The passage referred to, commences with the verse, " One of this mood I do remember well." Y 258 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. and active." Poetry, his "favourite" art, the darling of his soul, like the flower that has been restored to " the rays of the sun and the breezes of health," was reviving " in a soil which" again cherished it ; and "the hope" that he "indulged of devoting to it, erelong, his " chief attention," was fulfilled. The letter is as follows : — " Glasgow, Jan. 8, 1825. " Dear Brother — I wish you a happy new-year ; and Miss , I mean the good one, I wish a happy new-year. " I have been in Glasgow, since I saw you, constantly. My health is not in a very dancing mood ; but I believe it is not much worse than men of my habits are wont to pos- sess it. Before the new-year I had about three weeks of glorious study. Soaring in the pure ether of eternity, and linking my thoughts to the everlasting throne, I felt the healthy breezes of immortality revive my intellectual nerves, and found a point, unshaken and unthreatened by the rock- ings and stormings of this world. Blank verse, the language of assembled gods, the language of eternity, was the form into which my thoughts fell. Some of them, I trust, shall out- live me in this world ; and nothing, I hope, shall make me ashamed to meet them in the next. Thoughts, acquire- ments, appendages of any kind, that cannot be carried with us out of time into the help and solace of our eternity, but must be left the unredeemed and unredeemable of death, are little worth harbouring about us. It is the everlastingness of a thing that gives it weight and importance. And surely it is not impossible, even now, to have thoughts and ideas that may be transported over the vale of death, and not be refused the stamp and signature of the Eternal King. No doubt, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 259 the clearest eye must unscale when it comes in view of the uncreated light ; and the purest earthly thought must wash itself before it enter into the holy of holies on high ; but there are different eyes from those which have never tried to see, and there are different thoughts from those which must be exiled for ever, beyond the confines of purity. " I was broken up at the new-year, or rather a week before it ; first, by the arrival of Mr Mackenzie, who came into the same room with me ; and then by my going to Moorhouse, when I met the Messrs Taylor, with their [sister Margaret, and also Miss Campbell. Our mother wishes me to tell you that she is in her ' silly ordinary.' The rest of your friends, in this country, for aught I know, are all well. " You will receive with this letter your gaiters and ink, which you spoke of. I send you also the verses you spoke of in your letter. Those on * Divine Benignity* are good only here and there, and not fit to be shown except to some uncri- tical brain. " I suppose you are still studying eloquence, and thinking of producing effect. In this pursuit it is proper to exercise and accustom the physical organs ; but the grand thing is the love of virtue. ' How he should be eloquent who is not withal a good man, I see not,' says John Milton ; and how he, whose mind is kindled into the love of virtue, whose cir- cumcised fancy delights to hover around the throne of the Ancient of Days, and whose intellect, turning the leaves of man's destiny, grasps the whole interests of his time and his eternity, should choose to be aught else but eloquent, when he takes upon him to instruct and guide his fellow-men, I find not proof of. " Mr Mackenzie, who came to Glasgow to deliver his dis 260 THE LIFE OF ROBERT FOLLOK. courses, set off for England this morning. I am therefore left alone, and hope soon to be able to think some again. It is very precarious, however. I am still, by fits, subject to that Zaaraian wastefulness of soul that refuses all comfort, and lothes all exercise. " I mean to remove on Tuesday first to No. 80, Surrey Street, Laurieston ; but as it is uncertain, address your first letter to me, Mrs Walker, 6, Oxford Lane, Laurieston, and write soon. I promise to answer you sooner in future. " R. POLLOK." This letter, on reading which I knew, with inexpressible joy, that he had now found a subject to write on, fixes the date of the most momentous era in his literary history. It is, that "three weeks before the new-year" 1825, or in the beginning of December 1824, when he had newly entered on the twenty-seventh year of his age, he began to write " The Course of Time." His next letter to me, which is very characteristic, espe- cially in regard to his interest in his friends, and his way of talking about them, shows also his progress in the writing of his poem, and gives some particulars respecting it. With the omission of two or three passages, it is as follows: — " No. 1, Norfolk Court, Laurieston, Glasgow, Feb. 7, 1825. " Dear Brother — I received your letter to-day, and answer it thus speedily, because I should have written before now, having beside me, rather too long, sundry letters and parcels for you. Margaret's answer, which has been beside me for some time, comes with this. As she writes, our THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 261 father delays writing for some time, but wishes to hear from you often. I had him in Glasgow with me the other night, hale, fresh, and jocund — he is a wonderful man at sixty-eight. He was very happy. We conversed much ; and amoug other things, when I told him that, from the course of thinking and study in which I knew you to be engaged, I had no doubt that you would be more than an ordinarily useful man, if God spared you, in this world, there was a feeling of delight on his countenance which repaid him many a trouble. ****** " John, whom I saw to-day, would answer your letter ; but he can never please himself in writing. His taste, it seems, has got before his ability to execute — a thing, by the by, very apt to happen with the learned as well as with an honest farmer — the contemplation of excellence being far more agreeable to the sluggish nature of man than the pro- duction of it. John, however, wishes me, with all brotherly affection on his part, and all love and prayer for you, to relate, that he and Mrs Pollok are quite well ; and that his family, who have all had the chin-cough, are getting well through. But John has still a very severe cough, and is thereby kept from school. It is impossible to keep him within doors, or to get him under any kindly and regular nursing : for he is one of those ever-planning, ever-active, humanly-uncontrollable spirits, that Providence takes under its own management ; and sometimes, when common men, looking with amazement on their seemingly unguided career, shake their ponderous heads with awful gravity, as if they saw some planet cut off from its orbit, and with fearfully erroneous adventure rushing on, ruining and ruined, accom- 262 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. plishes by their ministry its wonderful designs, and gives them an inheritance of everlasting renown ; and further, with seeming folly, far overreaches the wisdom of the wise. * * The many friends who have a regardful eye on John, his own generous and manly disposition, with the blessing of God, which we all pray for, will, I trust, bring him to ripe years not unhonourably. Janet Young is with Mrs Gilmour.* She has been unwell for some time. I was out and saw her lately ; she is getting better, although slowly, for it is not easy to get out of chin- coughs, measles, and the like, with which she has been afflicted. Jean is very careful about her ; and I shall not neglect to see that proper remedies be applied, although I hope she will need few. Her father left Glasgow early in January for St Domingo : you will see that this island is within the tropics — a very dangerous adventure, therefore, for a European, David is a man well calculated for all hardship and endurance ; and if fortune be kind — I use the word fortune, because Providence may be kind to him although he should never return, or return poorer than he went out, but fortune is considered to act kindly only when she pros- pers a man according to his wishes — if fortune be kind, I understand, he may gain one, two, or three thousand by his adventure.^ If it be for his own and his family's good, I wish he may. He is, with some failings, a very worthy man. " I have not been at Moorhouse since about the beginning of this year ; but I understand our mother is complaining rather more these two or three weeks. I need not tell you that you ought to write her a letter — and let it be in a plain * His eldest sister. f Mr Young died of fever in six days after his landing on St Domingo. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 263 hand, for which your last to me deserves praise — telling her such little particulars about yourself and your neighbour- hood as you think may please her ; and not forgetting to comfort and cheer her with the substantial comforts of religion. She will be greatly amused and heartened by such a letter — and age and want of health have need of comfort. " With this I send you some coffee, made of malt. It cost me only fivepence, and it will serve you a long time. Foreign coffee is often mixed and adulterated. One knows what he is drinking when he drinks this ; and does not need to ask whether the wind blows from Spain or no, when he sees the bottom of his canister. I like it well, and so does Mr Marr. We owe the knowledge of it to Mr Dobson, a curious man you know. With a dry dinner it makes a capi- tal beverage. Recipe — three or four large teaspoonfuls, boiled fifteen minutes in a coffee pot or pan with three cups of water. If you boil it in a pan you must put it thence into a tea-pot to separate the grounds. Take along with it plenty of milk, or rather cream, if you have it, and sugar ; it needs more than tea. Now, after all this, I shall be none surprised to hear that you cannot make use of it. But I thoug-ht it not right not to send it, as it pleases me. " I forget now what I wrote in my last letter to you, but I gather from yours, which is in as masterly a style as any thing I have got from you, that I have been soaring above this world altogether.* But surely I did not mean to leave * The passage in my letter to which he alludes may be subjoined here : — " I am almost ashamed to break in on your studies with such a miscel- laneous, business-like letter. But I know your love will at least excuse me. Certainly it is worth while, and therefore laudable, to enquire after those friends in this world, with whom we hope to spend a happy 264 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. behind me any thing pure and good. It is, indeed, always one of the petitions to the God of my fathers, that I may be greatly interested in the concerns and destinies of my fel- low-men. " The subject of the poem in which I am engaged is the resurrection — a glorious argument; and if that Divine Spirit, who giveth all thought and all utterance, be not offended with my prayers, it shall not be ungloriously managed. It affords me, besides giving great room to the imagination, a plan for the rigid depictment of the characters of men at that time when all but character shall have left them. I have already, much to my satisfaction, wellnigh completed the first book of nearly a thousand verses. When I have time, I shall send some of it for your revisal. My health stands out pretty well, although it is some days run down. " I wish you would send me a copy of the lines on 'Envy ;' perhaps I may make some use of them. Let me hear from you soon ; and may the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ be your counsellor and guide. « R. POLLOK." In this letter, two expressions require explanation ; namely, " The subject of the poem in which I am engaged is the resurrection," and, " I have wellnigh completed the first immortality in the next. I am glad that you have ' weeks of glorious study,' and especially that your health permits you to prosecute such study. May the Eternal and Infinite Spirit inform your soul with an immortal argument, and enable you to conduct it to your own happiness in time, and blessedness in eternity ; and to His praise, honour, and glory, for ever and ever !" THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 265 book." The following was given by himself in conversation with me, after the poem was written : — I would recollect, he said, of leaving Hartley's " Ora- tory" with him at the close of the Hall one session, to be returned to Mr Hartley, from whom I had had a loan of it. Through mistake or neglect, it was taken out, with some other books, to Moorhouse, where he read portions of it occasionally ; " for it contains," he said, " a selection of excellent pieces." By and by, he brought it back to Glas- gow, but allowed it to lie for some time beside him before returning it. One night in the beginning of December, when he was sitting alone in his room in great desolation of mind, to turn his thoughts from himself he put his hand to the table for a book, and lifted Hartley's " Oratory." He opened it at Byron's lines to " Darkness," and read where he opened. While he was reading these the resurrec- tion was suggested to him ; and it struck him that it might be taken for a subject to write on. He instantly began to think, and hastily running over in his mind various authors who had treated of it, was not satisfied with any of them. He thought that something new or different might be said on the subject, or, at least, that it might be set in a more striking light. A plan occurred to him. He imme- diately laid down the book, took up the first pen that he got his hands on, and began to write what now forms the second paragraph of the seventh book of the poem, commencing, " In customed glory bright, that morn the sun Rose;" and he proceeded till he had upwards of a thousand verses, intending the subject of the poem to be the resurrection. Soon after completing what was then intended to be the first 266 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. book, but what is now the seventh of " The Course of Time," he removed from Glasgow to Moorhouse, to be beside his mother, who was then on her death-bed ; but he still pro- secuted the writing of the poem. As he went on, he began at intervals to select and arrange materials ; and, in doing this, he saw many things that he would like to bring in, that would not come in naturally under the subject of the resur- rection. He determined, however, to make use of these, and either to extend the plan or form a new one altogether. In the mean time, thoughts and words poured in on him from all quarters ; and he went on writing and selecting. One night, by and by, when he was sitting alone, in Moor- house old room, letting his mind wander back and forward over things at large, in a moment, as if by an immediate inspiration, the idea of the poem struck him, and the plan of it, as it now stands, stretched out before him ; so that, at one glance, he saw through it from end to end like an avenue, with the resurrection as only part of the scene. He never felt, he said, as he did then ; and he shook from head to foot overpowered with feeling ; knowing that " to pursue the subject was to have no middle way between great suc- cess and great failure." From this time, in selecting and arranging materials, he saw through the plan so well, that he knew to what book, as he expressed it, " the thoughts belonged whenever they set up their heads." But the poem wanted a name ; and it was not till after it was written that he called it " The Course of Time." From the following letter, which he wrote to me in the beginning of April, containing what may be called his mother's dying advice to him and myself, it will be seen that he was continuing busily engaged with his work, and was enabled to go on with it : — THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 267 " Moorhouse, April 4, 1825. " Dear Brother, — Our mother is very weak, and wishes me to tell you that she has little expectation of regaining health. She came into the room a few minutes ago with your letter in her hand, and wished me to tell you that she had read it all over and over again with great satisfaction. She wishes to say further that it should be the great business of all, and especially of those who profess to teach others, to set forth, in their doctrine and conduct, the loveliness, beauty, and con- descension of Jesus Christ. ' These,' she says, i are most astonishing ! the tongues of men and angels will never be able to speak half their praise/ It is her desire that you may just, like the old Apostle Paul, ' determine not to know any thing,' in preaching, ' save Jesus Christ, and him crucified/ She adds, < This is the main thing. Other things are useful ; but whoever wants this, I am afraid, his speed will not be great. I am extraordinarily pleased that you both seem to be sound on this point. I cannot use words sufficient to recommend to you the loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Christ; but I have thought often about it. That the Creator should become man for the sake of sinners ! Surely such infinite love will never be manifested again ! Let it be the business of your lives to set it forth ; it can never be praised enough. It gives me wonderful satisfaction to think, that he' — meaning you — 'conducts himself becomingly. I wished to say this much, and it is all I have to say ; and I think it better that you write it to him, than to wait till he come. Perhaps, I might not be able to say it then.' " I have given you the above as nearly as possible in my mother's own words. " Our mother rises generally about twelve or one o'clock 268 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. noon. She grows weaker, and has little doubt that the time of her departure is at hand. She is, indeed, in many respects like our uncle David, a few weeks before he died. She speaks with the same composure of death, with the same warmth of redeeming love, and is very like one whom the great Fore- runner will soon receive into the everlasting mansions. " She has not been able to read the little book * that I sent her last. It is not the tender parts that she is unable for, it is the religious sentiments. They agree so with her own, and are, she says, so strongly expressed, that they penetrate and agitate her so much, that she dare not risk her weakness with the reading of them ; but has had to lay the book aside after a sentence or two. " I am in the very heart of the poem, and greatly upheld. " I am happy to tell you that all your friends here keep a lively remembrance of you. I shall say no more just now, as we expect to see you immediately. " If any remember me about your place, wish them happi- ness. Mr Marr has no hope of getting the school he spoke of. He is at his father's, and has been complaining for some weeks. " R. Pollok." In the middle of May he wrote to me the following letter, which shows what progress he had then made in the writing of his poem, and how he intended to employ himself for a month or two : — " Moorhouse, May 14, 1825. " Dear Brother, — I expected you to write to me when you * " The Persecuted Family." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 269 got home to Auchindinny ; but I Lave heard neither hilt nor hair of you. According to the nature of things, how- ever, I suppose you got safely home. " Our mother is considerably weaker, and more spent than when you were here. The cough is very severe ; the fine- ness of the weather seems to bring her no relief. Indeed, there is little hope of her recovery. She expects you to write to her. The rest of us are well. " I have nearly completed a third book of my poem ; and I have been, in general, able to please myself. The descrip- tion of the good minister I intend to send to you when I shall have time to copy it out for you. When the present book is finished, I intend to rest a little — perhaps during the two summer months, as I find, whenever the weather gets warm, my capacity for severe thinking diminishes. I shall correct some of what I have written ; and I have, besides, two ser- mons to compose, one for the Presbytery and one for the Hall, which will employ some of my time. " Mr Marr has been at Glasgow and Moorhouse since you were here. We had Mr Pollok in the Rev. James Dick- son's pulpit, Sabbath was eight-days. He went through the business very respectably ; and the people were much satisfied. I forgot to say that Mr Marr was pretty well when here, although he seemed not entirely clear of his complaint. We expect to hear from you soon. « R. PoULOK." In the beginning of July he sent me the following note, announcing his mother's death, and stating how she died : — 270 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. « Moorhouse, July 4, 1825. " Dear Brother, — Last night, a few minutes before mid- night, our dear mother departed this life. I can at present give you no particulars. I may only say, that she died in < the full assurance of hope,' closing her eyes with as much calmness and composure as ever she did in the days of her health. The funeral is appointed for Tuesday the 8th cur- rent. But we expect you to come off as soon as you receive this note. « R. POLLOK." Thus died his mother, to whom, as he acknowledged, he owed much. To mention no more, it deserves to be recorded here, that he once said to me, in speaking of the theologi- cal doctrines in " The Course of Time," after it was written, " It has my mother's divinity, the divinity that she taught me when I was a boy. I may have amplified it from what I learned afterwards ; but in writing the poem I always found that hers formed the groundwork, the point from which I set out. I always drew on hers first, and I was never at a loss. This shows," he added, with devout grati- tude, " what kind of a divine she was." In the beginning of August he returned once more to the Hall, in further prosecution of his theological studies ; and his discourse, this session, the text of which was in Heb. vi. 12, " Be not slothful, but followers of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises " — a text very appropriate to him in his circumstances, was what is called technically a popular discourse ; and it was much approved of by the Pro- fessor. Early in the session, it may be mentioned, as showing THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 271 his respect for Dr Dick, he originated in the Hall, in a speech of considerable length, a proposal that the students then attending it, should have a portrait of the Professor executed by some eminent artist, and placed there ; which, proposal met their approbation, and an excellent portrait of him was, in pursuance of it, executed by George Watson, Esq., Edinburgh. Soon after it was placed in the Hall, Robert said to the Professor, in speaking of it comparatively with another portrait presented to him, immediately after it, by his congregation, taken by Mr Chester Harding, an American artist — " It is liker what you appear to us in the Hall ; it brings out the literary part of your character better." Towards the end of the session he made a visit to Loch Lomond, accompanied by his relative Mr Campbell, and three of his fellow-students, Mr Marr, Mr Borthwick, and myself. He sailed up the loch as far as Rob Roy's cave, and was much delighted with the magnificent scenery, which he said far surpassed his expectation, as indeed no anticipa- tion could reach it. On returning to the steam-boat which was to convey the passengers from Loch Lomond up the Clyde to Glasgow, he said to his four companions, " There is a snug little place below, let us go down and occupy it, that we may talk toge- ther, and turn this day to the best account." We followed him to the apartment, and as soon as we had, with consent of the steward, secured it to ourselves, he proposed that we should each of us give utterance to our feelings, and tell to what account we might turn that day. This being ap- proved of, it was thought proper to appoint me president on the occasion ; and the four rose, in succession, and gave 272 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. utterance to their feelings, in speeches of considerable length, and, doubtless, with felicity and success. The chief object that Robert had in view in his speech was, after giving a general description of all that he had seen that day, and expressing his feelings in regard to it, to de- scribe a man of intellectual greatness, and illustrate the ease with which he should produce excellence in any depart- ment of science. It is not enough, he added in conclusion, that the great man produce great effect ; he must produce it with ease, and with such ease as to show that he has put forth but little of his strength. He must never seem struggling below his subject and labouring to reach it; he must always appear above his subject, and stooping easily down on it. He must not labour from the plain or the lake, up to the top of the mountain, and there sit down, fatigued and worn, to take a look of what is above him. No ; he must come down from a higher region, seat himself on earth's loftiest summit; take a survey of all that is below him ; stoop with ease, put forth his hand, produce at a touch the most stupendous ef- fect, and then retire with dignity to his native heights. On arriving at Glasgow I said to him, " Keep in mind what you delivered to-night ; it is the best thing that you ever did ; do not let it be lost ;" — and he said, " I think it is better than any thing that I ever wrote, and I shall try to preserve its essence." In short, this speech suggested the idea and formed the groundwork of his description of the man of intellectual greatness, in the end of the fourth Book of " The Course of Time." During this session of the Hall he associated freely with his fellow-students, and was much respected and esteemed among them. The following letter, which he wrote to me THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 273 in the middle of November, contains an account of himself from the close of the Hall to its date, showing- in what circumstances he was placed : — " Glasgow, Nov. 14, 1825. " Dear Brother, — You will think me long in writing, but the cause was that till within these few days I had nothing to write. I spent my time after you left us in a state of dis- tressing hesitation. Whether to stay at Moorhouse or go to Glasgow, whether to write something for immediate sale or enter upon my old subject — these contrarieties perplexed me. But strong inclination and irresistible determined me to my former pursuit. Thoughts poured in on all quarters, and I have had a week's most prosperous study. This is likely to be the last winter that I shall have so much freedom ; and I thought it best to have as much of my poem done as possible. What is too long laid aside is apt to be forgotten. Besides, I consider it as a great duty before me, and I am most desirous to have it accomplished. This determination de- cides the other difficulty — I must remain at Moorhouse. My health is pretty good, and I shall try to study in mode- ration. The worst thing is, there is too little company to draw me from my own thoughts ; but you must write fre- quently and I will answer you punctually, and this will help to lighten the time to us both. I pity your solitude. The want of literary company is a great evil, but you are better situated than I am. " You will be writing, or meaning to write some. Time is now to us becoming precious. A half year should produce much fruit. We have been long cultivating, long acquiring ; it is high time to reap the increase. Do not let yourself be 274 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. low-spirited. * Rejoice evermore/ I had a few days of that horror with which I was oppressed autumn was a-year, not just so ill, and it is gone. Beware of it, it is a dreadful thing. " I should like to see a sermon on the text, Eccles. vii. 16, < Be not righteous over much.' Might you not send me a discourse upon it by the new-year ? But if you have a plan of study laid down, do not let this interfere with it. " I have no news. We are all well. The west country- folk are all well, and enquired after you with great kindness. " Write as soon as you can, and tell me as much as you can. Address to the care of Mr John Forrester, 33, Rose Street, Hutchesou-town, and I shall get regularly whatever comes. " I write by post, because the difference of a single letter is trifling. " R. POLLOK." In these circumstances, with three books of his poem written, namely, the seventh, the eighth, and the ninth, and after having discontinued it for five months, that is, from the end of May till the beginning of November, he resumed the writing of it. His next letter to me carries forward his history, without a break, nearly to the end of January 1826. It shows, in affecting detail, in what circumstances he was prosecuting his poem, and what progress he was making, expresses his own opinion of himself with respect to his qualifications for instructing the ignorant, as a minister of the gospel, and gives further proof of his interest in his friends. It is as follows : — THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 275 " Glasgow, January 24, 1S26. " Dear Brother — No man had ever more to say to another man than I have to say to you just now ; but I must content myself with saying but little after all. " To speak of myself first of all ; I have been at Moor- house and in Glasgow, at Moorhouse and in Glasgow again, since I saw you ; and I am at this moment, while I write to you, at No. 1, Norfolk Court, Laurieston, where I was last year. When I wrote to you last I was in Glasgow, although I did not say so, for I had then determined to go to Moor- house, and I did go ; but the coldness of the weather, and the badness of the house, and the heavy pressure of pecuniary concerns, when I was surrounded with a thousand thoughts, so overpowered my body and mind, that for some weeks I stooped down, and the billows passed over me. What I suffered in that time, God alone knows ; it was less than I deserve, but it was much. But I cannot speak to you by writing. My father noticed the fearful and dangerous state of my mind, and insisted that I should go to Glasgow, hoping that company and better lodging might recover me ; and, indeed, although slowly, I did recover, and resumed my study. Some weeks passed, however, before I regained con- fidence in myself; for I felt as if my mind had been shattered to pieces. But I thank God, the Father of spirits, that he has again restored me all my intellectual vigour ; and although by going to the country at the new-year I caught a cold, the effects of which have not entirely left me, I am vigorous in mind, and am three hundred verses in a third book since I began to study after the Hall. My success in the first book of the piece, which is now written, is beyond my own expectation. There are some strong descriptions in 276 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. it ; but you are not to imagine it extraordinary. I rather doubt, from your letter, that you overvalue it. " Now, be assured of this, that I would send a book or two to you with far more pleasure than you would receive them; but I have nothing but one copy, and it would be risking it imprudently to send it so long a way. You will see the possibility of its miscarrying, and the consequent irreparable loss — I mean to myself, for I do reckon it valuable — and it is perfectly impossible that I can transcribe it just now ; neither my health nor my time will permit me. I have said this much, that you may acquit me of any shadow of blame for not sending you any of the poem at this time. I repeat it again, that you may see it is one of the strongest motives which impels me to write ; and there are parts of it in which I have your gratification before me at the very moment I am writing ; but you see plainly that, at present, I cannot send any of it. If we are spared, we shall soon meet. I cannot finish my poem in less than eight books ; five are written. Excuse me for talking so long of myself and the subject of my study. " I should now like to answer your letter, which I received, I think, about a fortnight ago ; but how am I to answer it ? You are prosperous in regard to your business, as I learn from your letter, and likewise from Mr Campbell, who speaks of you most kindly. You lay the difficulties of teaching as fully before the mind as they can be laid ; and I am con- vinced that they are as you say. But I do not like the reflec- tions at the end, although I have made them a hundred times myself ; not from the same causes, but from causes equally powerful. My manner of thinking and writing — the manner I have of generalizing man, unfits me very much for entering THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 277 into that detail which is necessary for a preacher. Nay, I often think, that I could not take interest in many of those subjects which it is a minister's most imperative duty to take interest in. Now, you have difficulties — your situation has disadvantages ; but, permit me to say, it has very great advantages too. I mention only that habit of teaching — of detailed activity — of instilling knowledge into the unculti- vated mind, and of entering heartily into the concerns of those around us, which your employment has an irresistible tendency to create — which habit, however much you may undervalue it, is most essential to the accomplished minister of the gospel ; and it is the want of this habit in myself, and the difficulty that I should now have in acquiring it, that I look upon as one of the greatest impediments in my way to usefulness as * an instructor of the ignorant ;' for I fear that this shall, for a long time yet, be the great work of the minister of Christ. Bu1? I shall say no more, every man must decide for himself. And when we have once asked, humbly, and resignedly, and devoutly, what our duty is in this world, at Him who sees ' the end from the beginning ;* and when we have calmly and rationally chosen what we think He inclines us to do, we have no reason to consult any longer ' with flesh and blood.' What is the advice of man, who sees so short a way before him ? what is his praise ? what is his censure ? To be foolish, in his eyes, may be to fulfil the dic- tates of eternal wisdom ; to appear to him to fail, may be to be most successful ; and to gain his applause here, may be at the expense of a fair reputation in the world that endureth for ever. Indeed, what is any wisdom but that which the Spirit of God doth impart ? and what is any approbation but 278 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. the approbation of that God who knoweth perfectly the true value of every thought, and word, and action, and the conse- quences of each for ever and ever ? " I have not seen our father since he received your letter, but I believe he is well ; and so are all the rest. In the west, too, your friends, I believe, are well ; but our little cousin, David Dickie, has been removed from this world. After a short illness, of what nature I do not remember particularly, as I could not go out to the funeral, a closing seized him, which soon carried him off. He struggled very much, 1 heard, towards the end, for he was a strong boy ; but who that is born of woman shall fight with death ? His father and mother are very much affected ; but you know all that I can tell you, and can reflect all that I can reflect. He died about ten days ago. " Mr C — , as he would tell you, has been much dis- appointed in the east. He is now Jiome ; but I fear it shall be hard times with him soon. He is much involved, and has neither money nor any prospect of gaining any immediately. Think of his lovely children and his most amiable of wives — for she is truly so — and then, although your difficulties and mine be great, let us reflect how much we might yet suffer ! * A very wise reflection,' you will say ; so say I ; and it passes with me as it passes with you ; for my pecuniary difficulties are really so troublesome, that they destroy one half of my vigour — so little power has philosophy when she comes with an empty hand ! But I am truly sorry for Mr C ■• — ; I am truly sorry for his wife. I hope the sea shall be divided before him ! " I have been rather long in writing after all ; but I was THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLQK. 279 not the less desirous to hear from you on that account. You would be wrong to think so for a moment. I sometimes appear careless to my best friends ; but no man has a roomier place for them in his heart, and there is no friend on earth that I love so much as you. " I wish you would write soon. I think I have told you my address somewhere in this endless letter. " R. POLLOK." After the date of this letter, he continued to prosecute the writing of his poem till the beginning of March, when he thought it necessary, from the state of his health, to discontinue it for some time ; so that he was, he confessed, " a little per- plexed." But he was neither " comfortless " nor " in despair." The sea was beginning to divide before him; and the bright cloud of hope shed its cheering beams on the dividing waters, lighted the opposite shore, and gilded, in the distance, the mountain-tops of the promised land. He saw through the opening billows a pathway for his feet ; he rested his eye on the distant prospect, and stood still to " see the salvation of the Lord." Such was his situation in the beginning of March, as the following letter to me will show in detail : — " Glasgow, March 3, 1826. " Dear Brother, — I received your letter, of date 10th Febru- ary, some time ago, and would have written according to your request, immediately ; but that I was lying-to as the seamen say, in expectation of several letters, which 1 heard were in progress towards me, and which were, by my instrumentality, to be sent to you. Three of these have arrived, which you will receive along with this. Two of them, I perceive, are 280 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. from new correspondents, and I have no doubt you will be greatly pleased to hear from them. " I have not been in the country since the commencement of the year. By letter, or personal visits, however, I have had, since that time, communication with most of my friends. Our father, who has had rather a severe cold, is again well ; and, I believe, none of them at Moorhouse complain. « Mr has been obliged to give up housekeeping ; his wife and children have gone to his mother-in-law's, who is not very able to keep them; his household furniture has been retained by the landlord for arrear-rent, and will, when sold, fall far short of clearing the debt. But Mr is never without hope. Although he is, at this moment, living on the bounty of his friends, he eats and drinks as heartily, sleeps as soundly, looks as healthily, and laughs as loudly, as ever he did at any period of his life. He sleeps with me just now. He has many projects before him ; but how many, or which of them, may succeed, would be difficult to conjecture. " Mr Marr is writing a letter to you at the same table at which I write — he will speak for himself; but had I any occasion to give you an account of him, I would take a pinion from the wing of night, and write dark and gloomy things ; — perhaps the man is smiling for all that, inwardly ; but I speak merely of his outside. " Of myself I have little to say, and that little not very pleasant. I have finished, since I began last winter, three books of my poem, and find, at present, my health very much in need of repair. My breast troubles me — I have just had on a blister, and I hope it will do some good. I do not intend to write any more for some time, and shall pay every THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 281 attention to my health. I am dreadfully hunted just now for money, and have been threatened with prosecution from different quarters. And although my whole debt is not much above £20, and although £12 would free me from present embarrassment, I have not the means of raising even that small sum. Thus menaced with creditors, and scarcely able to fly out of their way, I am a little perplexed ; but I am labouring to let nothing take so much effect upon my spirits as to hurt my health. My present situation, however, does not afford the very first accommodation for one just come out of a severe mental exertion. The affection you show me in your letters comforts me much. Be not trou- bled although I still prophesy dark things. My path does, indeed, seem at present to be surrounded with difficulties ; but you remember that when the sea was before Moses, and the Egyptians behind, the Lord opened a way for him. Three or four books more will complete my poem. " I have copied you a few verses concerning the Bible. The young spirit, who meets the old bard in heaven, after diverse conversation about man, concludes that the wicked could never have done so foolishly if they had known their duty. Upon this, the old bard takes occasion to tell him they knew their duty perfectly, and in doing this gives a view of the Bible. The verses I have sent you are not the best speci- men of poetry I could have sent you, but I have chosen them that you may see in how short a space I have attempted to delineate the essentials of religion ; and that I may have your opinion of this very important part of my poem — import- ant, both as it concerns myself, the world at large, and theological critics, who will, no doubt, quarrel much at this 2 a 282 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. place. I have not been conscious of supporting any sect. Write soon. " R. POLLOK. " I must leave Glasgow in the course of two or three weeks. I shall, therefore, expect a letter before that time expire." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 283 CHAPTER X. In the month of April, for the sake of his health, Robert paid me a visit at Auchindinny, and proceeded thence with his friend, Mr Campbell, to Dunfermline, where he stayed eight or ten days. In the middle of May, having returned to Glasgow, he wrote to me regarding himself as follows : — " Glasgow, May 18, 1826. " Dear Brother, — You have right to be astonished that I have been so long in writing to you ; but a series of adverse circumstances kept me waiting, from day to day, for better ; and yet no better have come. I am in Glasgow, trying to do some good, and can do none. My health, although I think my constitution still vigorous, is by no means pleasant. My spirits, however, are, except at intervals, nowise downcast. " I shall try to do what I can to extricate myself from this misery. I propose to send the first three books of my poem to Edinburgh. Give me your opinion on this. I am, &c. « R. POLLOK." In a few days after receiving this note, I wrote to him in answer ; and it seems necessary to insert the following part of my letter here, on account of the reference which he makes to it afterwards : — 284 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " Auchindinny, May 25, 1826. " Dear Brother, — My opinion of publishing the first three hooks of your poem, is unaltered, and I believe unalterable. Even the stubbornest necessity would not, for aught I yet know, extort from me a reluctant consent to their publica- tion alone. I would rather write the remaining books in a jail, where many a great and good man has written, than publish such a work in parts. Sooner would I see a first- rate man-of-war taken and launched, plank by plank, on the merciless ocean, than see that poem published, book by book, to the critic and thankless world. Could you not escape away to me, and vigorously prosecute your work to a close ? I will get a room for you here, and you can eat with me. Notwithstanding, if you see that you cannot, without inju- ring your health, go on speedily with the poem, so that the immediate publication of the first three books is an absolute necessity, I would submit. But you must look away beyond the present pressure. The work will, one day, not only relieve yourself, but enable you to assist your friends. " I have, this instant, resolved to exert myself to the utmost to let you get time to finish your poem. Tell me how long you think it will take to finish it, without hurting your health ; and tell me freely how much you would like me to try to raise, and I will raise it, though I should ' stir heaven and earth.' For myself I cannot be importunate; but when I speak for another, it is impossible to put me off. This is no ' South-Sea dream' — it will pay at last. Your health is every thing, and the composure of your mind. Write the moment you get this. Tell me where you lodge. " D. POLLOK." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 285 Immediately on receiving the above, lie wrote to me the following letter, in return, stating his circumstances, and de- claring his resolution at the time : — " Glasgow, May 28, 1826. " Dear Brother, — In this letter I shall endeavour to set before you my present circumstances, which will be the best answer I can give to the most brotherly and warm-hearted letter that ever was written by man. Let me still intreat you to beware of overrating my talents. It makes me trem- ble lest I should disappoint your hopes. " You know that my desire is to finish the poem, in which I am engaged, before intermeddling with any other concern. But you know also, that to enable me to do this would re- quire a considerable quantity of money ; besides, when the work is finished, its success, at least as far as money is con- cerned, is very uncertain. Now, were I to keep back from ' holy orders' after so long a preparation, and at the same time be gaining nothing, what would be the cry of those who already reproach me with my indolence ? My money embarrassments, added to these ideas, make it difficult for me to pursue a work with calmness and serenity — difficult, I say, but not impossible ; for since your letter reached me, I have trampled many of those perplexing thoughts beneath my feet. It is not the assistance which you meditate, for you must not involve yourself on my account, but the spirit which it breathes. I feel as if I had all your vigour and fortitude added to my own. My resolution was wavering, my thoughts were driving at random, and my whole mental energies were dispersed and scattered, when your letter, like the encouraging voice of a well-known commander, in 286 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. the hour of doubtful conflict, in a moment, collected the scattered and confirmed the wavering, so that I have de- termined, as far as my health will permit, calmly to pursue my poem ; and, in the strength of God, I hope to com- plete it. I did not intend to do any more to it during the summer; but you have put me into the spirit, and I think I shall be able to finish a book before the Hall. As the weather is extremely fine, I shall just remain at Moor- house ; and as I am in perfect good spirits, I have no doubt that I shall manage well enough. As to the probable time that I might take to finish the whole work, I cannot speak exactly ; but if all was well, I think it might be finished du- ring the ensuing winter. I wrote as much last winter as I have now to write. This, then, is my present resolution — I shall, if God so assist me, proceed with my poem, keeping up at the same time my theological studies, till after the Hall, when we shall take counsel of my future proceeding. " Remember me to all whom I mentioned in my last let- ter. Perhaps you have heard that Mr Hugh Lockhart * is gone. About six weeks or two months ago he retired into the world of spirits ; and, indeed, was nearly a spirit before he set out. I expect to hear from you very soon. " R. POLLOK." Three days after writing this letter, having six books of his poem written, he entered on the writing of it the third time. How he proceeded with it, under what circumstances, and with what success, the following letter, written to me in the beginning of July, will show : — * A young gentleman of eminent attainments as a scholar. THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 287 " Moorhouse, July 7, 1826. " Dear Brother, — It is with mucli pleasure that I am now able to tell you that I have finished my poem. Since I wrote to you last, I have written about three thousand five hundred verses; which is considerably more than a hundred every successive day. This, you will see, was extraordinary expe- dition to be continued so long ; and I neither can nor wish to ascribe it to any thing but an extraordinary manifestation of Divine goodness. Although some nights I was on the borders of fever, I rose every morning equally fresh, without one twitch of headache ; and, with all the impatience of a lover, hasted to my study. Towards the end of the tenth hook — for the whole consists of ten books — where the subject was overwhelmingly great, and where I, indeed, seemed to write from immediate inspiration, I felt the body beginning to give way. But now that I have finished, though thin with the great heat, and the almost unintermitted mental exercise, I am by no means languishing and feeble. Since the 1st of June, which was the day I began to write last, we have had a Grecian atmosphere ; and I find the serenity of the heavens of incalculable benefit for mental pursuit. And I am now convinced that summer is the best season for great men- tal exertion; because the heat promotes the circulation of the blood, the stagnation of which is the great cause of misery to cogitative men. The serenity of mind which I have possessed is astonishing. Exalted on my native mountains, and writing often on the top of the very highest of them, I proceeded, from day to day, as if I had been in a world in which there was neither sin, nor sickness, nor poverty. In the four books last written, I have succeeded, in almost every instance, up to my wishes ; and, in many places, I have exceeded any 288 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. thing that I had conceived. This is not boasting, remem- ber. I only say that I have exceeded the degree of excel- lence which I had formerly thought of. " Thus you see what your last letter has effected ; for had it not been it, I believe I should have been standing still where it found me ; so that I look upon it — I mean the coming of your letter — as being, in the hand of Providence, the most fortunate and happy occurrence of my life. " If we be all well, my poem may be ready for the press soon after the New- Year, which is the best time for publi- cation. " Thus has it gone with me and my pursuits ; every thing has favoured me. But the same weather, which has been of such incalculable advantage to me, has, in a great measure, destroyed the hopes of the husbandman : the crops look ill, and the pasture -grounds are browner than in winter. " I beg your pardon, but I must say a little more about myself: how I shall get on, or whether get to the Hall or not, I do not see just now. If some person do not do some- thing for me, it is plain I cannot get to the Hall. But let the result be what it may, if God grant me health, I shall, after a few weeks' rest, begin to correct and copy out my work. " I have heard nothing of Mr Campbell, further than that, after a long contest, lie has got Dunfermline drawing aca- demy. Mr Pollok, who slept with me last night, is called to Buckhaven, in Fife — a pretty good place. Marr tells me he has opened an academy at Auchmillan of thirteen pupils. We are all well. " I wish you would come home as soon as possible, as I shall need you somewhat in the correction. I suppose my poem is THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 289 not shorter than ' Young's Night Thoughts.' It will take a good deal of labour to re-write it. " Remember me to any whom you think worthy. Let me hear from you directly ; and tell me what day I may expect you home. If you leave Auchindinny on the 1st of August,. we may have a fortnight to spend at Moorhouse before the Hall. " R. POLLOK." Thus he finished " The Course of Time" in the begin- ning of July 1826, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, nine- \y teen months after he began its execution. He was not, however, employed all that time in writing it. It was com- posed, as his letters respecting it show, at three different periods, with considerable intervals between them ; and all the three make together only eleven months. Besides, he once told me that he kept an account of the time, and that he was engaged in actual writing eight months. With regard to his habits in composing it, they were nei- ther numerous nor anywise very remarkable ; but it seems proper to give the following short account of them, taken from his conversation : — During the three periods of writing, he kept a small jot- book beside him, and whenever any thing occurred to him which he thought fit for any part of the work, he jotted it down sometimes with pen and ink, and sometimes with a black- lead pencil. Every time that he sat down to write, he looked over these jottings to see if there were any materials among them for his present purpose ; and when he had used, or rejected any thing, he drew his pen through it. Ge- nerally, he composed mentally, sometimes a few verses, and 2b 290 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE, sometimes a paragraph or two, according to circumstances ; and he did this at all times and in all places, but chiefly in bed. He once remarked to me, " People say a man can do nothing lying in bed ; but something may be done in it. The truth is, most of ' The Course of Time' was composed in bed." He usually wrote two or three hours at a sitting, and then went out to take the air, or engaged with his friends in lively conversation, to relax his mind ; and whenever he felt himself refreshed he resumed his study. He seldom sat later than eleven or twelve o'clock; but he generally lay awake a good part of the night, letting his mind wander over his subject, thinking and composing. When he came to a new paragraph, he concentrated his energies on it, as if it had been the only thing that he had ever written, or that he should ever write ; so that, as he said, " every para- graph might stand by itself, without needing support from what went before or came after." He never stopped at a difficult place, but took good care to pause where he knew he could easily go on, so that it might always be pleasant for him to sit down to write. When he wrote at Moor- house, he read at night to his brother John what he had writ- ten in the course of the day, and heard his opinion of it. While composing there the four books last written, though he went every Sabbath to church, he wrote, as he expressed it, " Sabbath and Saturday :" in going to and from church, on the sublime regions between Moorhouse and Eaglesham, he composed, as he thought he could not be better employed, the usual number of verses ; and on returning home, to secure them, he wrote them down. During the whole process he read little English, as it did not sufficiently arrest his attention, or withdraw his thoughts from himself; but he THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 291 occasionally read Latin and Greek for amusement or relaxa- tion ; and he found the most difficult that he met with a great recreation compared with the writing of the poem, in which his mind, through vigour of exertion, many a time nearly overpowered his body. He kept the Bible constantly beside him, and read in different places of it, according to the nature of what he was composing ; so that his mind, it may be said, was all along regulated by the Bible. Finally, he prayed to God daily, morning and evening, for direction and assistance in the work. As this was his last poetical composition, it will be proper now to give some account of the poetry which he produced between 1820 and the beginning of December 1824; and a very few words will suffice for that purpose. It consists of fifty pieces, of which forty are in rhyme, and the rest in blank verse. One of them is inserted above, and upwards of twenty of them are annexed to the Life. It may be men- tioned that these ten pieces in blank verse, along with the two which he wrote before 1821, make together nine hun- dred and thirty-two verses, being the whole of his compo- sitions of that kind before he began to write " The Course of Time." Early in 1826, he began his second and last commonplace- book ; but only the first eleven pages have been used as such, the rest of it being filled with jottings for " The Course of Time." The contents of these eleven pages it seems proper to insert here, as, for various reasons, they, may be interesting to the reader* For several years before this, in reading the different philosophical writers, ancient and modern, he had been strongly impressed with the idea that they showed less judgment, and displayed far more imagination,, than poets; 292 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. and he had determined to write a book, as he ironically said, " taking the palm of imagination from the poets and giving it to the philosophers." To this subject nearly the whole of the entries on these pages relate, and they are most character- istically expressed. Besides mentioning a- number of the authors with whom he was conversant, they furnish a speci- men of his way of recording his opinion of books, and show the workings of his mind, the first risings of his thoughts, in the privacy of his thinking. It may be remarked, that the last three of them are jottings for " The Course of Time, " that have not been scored out. The whole, with the title and date, are as follow : — " C0MMONPEACE-B0OK, 1826. " Where can the mind riot in a finer and richer field of imagination than that displayed by the philosophy of repro- duction ? Hippocrates, Aristotle, Plato, Galen, Harvey, Descartes, Malpighi, Valisniers, De Graff, Buffon, and many others, notable both in ancient and modern times, with a lofty and creative fancy that leaves the powers of the understanding infinitely behind, have given to the human race the vermicular, the ovular, and the living organic par- ticle system — a present which the most vigorous imagination only could have made, and which the lovers of the works of fancy shall for ever look on with wonder and veneration. Nor can we, in this place, avoid particularizing the descrip- tion of the formation of the foetus by the Count de Buffon — a piece of purer fancy, and more independent of the judgment, than any poet ever produced. His astonishing fancy, operating like the spell of the great English enchanter, speaks the word, and instantly the living organic particles, collecting and troop- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 293 ing from all parts of the parent bodies, meet together. What hurry ! what confusion ! and with what admirable art does he settle them, at last, into their respective places ! What was heart of the parents becomes heart again in the little man — what was brain, brain — what was eye, eye — and so on, in the most delightful order of creative genius. " Fish, perhaps from the softness of their parts, live to a immense old age. Leuwenhoek affirmed them to be im- mortal. " Simpson, Halley, Kersboom, Grant, St Maur, &c, have given tables of the mortality of the human species. " The great age of the antediluvians, according to Buf- fon, might be accounted for by the softness of the earth at the time, arising from gravity having not yet sufficiently hard- ened it. About David's time it reached its maximum den- sity. " Winston, John Woodward, Burnet, Bocquet, Leibnitz, M. Scheuchzer, Buffon, have given theories of the earth which are, in general, pieces of pure, and even extravagant imagination. It is very strange that Buffon, who seems to have given some attention to the rational parts of his readers, should have satisfied himself with endeavouring to prove, that the planets were driven off from the sun by the stroke of comets, without enquiring whence came these comets, and what gave them their motions. If the impulse which gave them their various motions originated immediately from God, might not the projectile impulse of the earth and the other planets spring from the same cause ? " J. P. Rabaut de Saint Etienne. < History of the Revo- lution in France.' A well-written book. The hurry and 294 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. commotion of popular passion and popular fury are well imi- tated in the rapidity of the narration. The causes of the Revolution are correctly ascertained, the characteristic vola- tility of the French is well marked, and the proceedings of the National Convention are powerfully and warmly depicted. But M. Rabaut, like many of his contemporaries, was drunk with the spirit of liberty and equality, and he therefore runs into such an excess of imaginary effects, that, did we not make allowance for the insane heat of a Gallic philosophic fancy, we would certainly discredit the whole production. " Mirabeau was one of the most illustrious speakers in the National Convention. " Rabaut. — A hundred thousand maladies of human na- ture. Power, or the desire of having inferiors, one of them. " Philosophic politicians have shown more fancy than judgment. The French Revolution produced ten thousand pamphlets of political speculation by name, but in their true nature pure fancy. " * The Religion of the Ancient Greeks, illustrated by an explanation of their Mythology. By M. Le Clerc de Sept- chenes, Secretaire du Cabinet du Roi.' " This work is written in an elegant style, and evinces a wide range of observation, and a masterly selection of the striking features of his subject. It has less of the puerile heat and fond apostrophe than is to be found in many of the works of Le Clerc's countrymen, and more sense than is to be gathered from most productions on the same subject. He divides the heathen gods into three classes — the first, repre- senting the principles of things ; the second, the phenomena THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 295 of nature ; and the third, the objects relative to man. These were all either the Deity, or proceeded from him, and were still occupied by him. When, therefore, the ancients wor- shipped the heavenly bodies, the seasons, the virtue of men, and so on, they only worshipped different manifestations of the first cause, and were therefore, concludes M. Le Clerc, not guilty of idolatry. The author's opinion of the ancient religion is far too high ; and had ho not borrowed from the Christian stores, which he seems to look upon as filled from the same sources as paganism, he could not have succeeded in giving such a sublime account of the ancient religion of the Greeks. When he is lamenting how much Christianity, which according to Bayle and Rousseau inculcates igno- rance, shackles and interrupts the progress of the human mind, he kindles into true Gallic rapture at the idea of the freedom with which men, under the pagan religion, could speak and write. But he should have remembered that he himself had told us, with what caution philosophers were compelled to speak of the religion of the state ; and when he spoke of Galileo falling a victim to Christianity — which, how- ever, is a lie * — he ought to have remembered Socrates, who bled on the altar of heathenism. " At the end of his work, Le Clerc gives an account of the opinions of many authors who have written on the same subject. " On the subject of the heathen mythology, philosophic fancy is richly displayed. Systems numerous and contra- dictory. (A legitimate subject for satire.) * " The philosophers of France have mostly formed their estimate of Christianity from the Pope's exhibition of it, and not from the sacred books in which its doctrines are recorded," 296 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " M. Le Clerc very well observes, that a romance has at least one object ; but what is to be said of a country which never existed, and of a period of which the remembrance is annihilated ? " Olaus Rudbeck, born in Sweden, makes his country the birth-place of the human race. M. Bailly places it in Spitz- bergen, Greenland, and Nova Zembla. " Diodorus Siculus, Le Clerc, Jacob Bryant, Blackwell, Jabloniski, M. Gebeelin, M. Dupuis, Meursius, and half a hundred, M- l'Abbe Banier, Bergier, Mignots, and Pluche, have written on the heathen mythology. Some of these authors originate all the gods from agriculture ; some from marshes, lakes, hills, and so forth ; some from towers ; some from the flood ; some from Noah's ark ; some from the heavenly bodies, and the revolution of the seasons ; some from heroes, and so on, ad infinitum. " The ancient poets, who related the fictitious adventures of their gods, have shown less imagination than modern philoso- phers, who have endeavoured to explain these brilliant fictions. " The Chaldean philosophy, Zoroaster, Plutarch, and Vi- truvius inform us, maintains that, when all the planets shall meet in Cancer, the world shall be burned ; when in Capri- corn, inundated. " From the Persian philosophy we learn, on the authority of Theopompus, that the good spirit or god Oromasdes, and the evil, Arimanius, shall subdue and be subdued alternately for six thousand years; but that, at last, the evil principle shall perish, and men shall live in happiness, neither needing food, nor yielding a shadow. Mithros, supreme god. Zer- dusht, the Persian Zoroaster. " Mr Locke says, ' But this I am sure — whoever will lend THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 297 an ear to all who tell them they are out of the way, will not have much time for any other business.' " People cut off in the midst of their days — high-reaching after noble deeds — saw now endless days before them to pur- sue all glorious things. " Of primeval simplicity and happiness — utter nonsense, the first family as wicked as any that followed it — Adam and Eve broke the covenant — Cain murdered his brother," To the contents of these pages of his last commonplace- book, may be added the contents of as many more, which he has written, partly before, and partly about the same time, among his French exereises, in a sort of miscellaneous com- monplace jot-book, without date. They consist of facts and extracts from his reading, and of jottings for " The Course of Time,'' some of which have been used in it, and some not ; but all of which are left as they were written, without being scored out. The facts and extracts show what kind of things he thought it worth while to take down in his reading; and the jottings admit us into the presence-chamber of his thoughts, to see them as they arise, unconnected, unclothed, and unadorned with words. They follow in the order in which they stand in his manuscript. " Ideas to be Dilated. " From the banks of the Amazon and Niger, &c, the cro- codile ; and from the forests the lion, &c, and other desolating animals, driven. Some great animals already thought extinct. " The tiger parched with an almost perpetual thirst. " The name Slave-coast a disgrace to mankind, and in future times to be disused and forgotten. 298 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " Marcus Scarus, at Rome, produced the greatest shows of fighting wi]d-beasts, and was, therefore, counted the best citizen. " The fetor of the serpent said ,to poison the air — Like a glander. The mucus of the serpent it spreads over the body before it swallows it. The worst men have often to give something before they manage their arts of destruction. " The serpent preys upon all animals — Men striving for a place or a pension, like the wild beasts of the desert about some summer brook or lake — The great serpent the most for- midable — Thegreat bad man compared to a serpent, to which he is the likest of all beasts of the field — The worshipping of serpents as in the kingdom of Widah, and of other beasts in this and that place. " When we walk the waste-places alone, and reason with ourselves, and think of immortality, we feel a proof within us of a future, fairer, kinder land, which all the dark, meta- physic, plodding sons of Byron can never outreason, " The great man, who, after many changes and great efforts, dies just when he has reached his desired glory, com- pared to the ephemera, which lives, only a few hours after it is adorned with all its wings and accoutrements. " The migrating bird flies on till it finds the climate to answer it, following the air, compared to the man who acts from feeling. * l Come, all ye wolves, come on the fiend that buys And sells the flesh and blood of fellow-man, As once upon the youthful brutal tribes Who offered insult to the man of God, Elisha, when he journeyed to the gate Of THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 299 " The Indian bees hum themselves asleep, at eve, in the blue blossoms of the nilica or sephalica. Sir W. Jones. " Zulieka, Potiphar's wife. " Mahomet added a new chapter to the Koran to justify his loves with the Coptic girl, Mary. " The nyctanthes sorrowful spreads its fragrance after dusk. " Locust-bird follows the water taken from the bird-foun- tain between Shiraz and Ispahan. " Into the Caspian, a long way, the rivers often run, burn- ing with naphtha. Han way. " Dives, demons of the Persian mythology. " Israfil, the Indian angel of music. " The Alma-tree — buds, blossom, and fruit all at once. Nieuhoff. " Cities of the silent — Cemeteries, called so in some places of the east. " Nile — called by the Abyssinians the Abey or giant, " Sultanna — a bird which obtained its name from its splendid and stately beauty — seen often on the Greek and Roman temples and palaces. Sonnini. " The Nucta — a miraculous drop which, falling in Egypt on St John's day, is said to stop the plague. " The Tooba-tree — in the palaces heavenly of Mahomet. " The Banyans have an hospital for cows, sheep, &c. &c. &c. Parson's Travels. " The maids in the east, when their lovers are absent in dangerous adventures, light a lamp, place it in a vessel sur- rounded with flowers, and commit it to the stream — if the light instantly expires, little hope of return — if it burns away down the river, return certain. Great numbers of these vessels of hope seen sometimes at night on the Ganges. 300 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE. " The blue-campaka — Thought by the Bramins to be found only in Paradise. " The Huma — an Eastern bird said to fly always in the air. " The Maldivians send a boat annually to sea, filled with all delightful flowers and odours, as an offering to the King of the sea. " In some places of the east, where a man has been devour- ed with a tiger, a bamboo-staff is set up with a white flag. " The Biajus — wandering water-gipsies on the eastern ocean, follow the summer from island to island. To the god of evil they offer a boat, full of the sins and misfortunes of the nation, which, they believe, fall on the first the boat meets. " Friends, cradled, nursed, and matured together — separ- ated then, and meeting in old age — Like two drops, sprung from the same fount, dancing hand in hand down the stream, till a rock separates and sends them into different seas — when long tossed among unkindred drops, they at last meet — but their freshness and sweetness gone. " Spices. " At the funeral of Sylla, two hundred and ten burdens of spices were strewed upon the pile. " Nero was reported to have burned a quantity of cinnamon and cassia at the funeral of Dappcea, greater than the coun- tries from which it was imported produced in one year. " Julius Caesar presented Servilia, the mother of Brutus, with a pearl for which he paid £48,457. The famous pearl ear-rings of Cleopatra £161,458. " Elagabalus introduced the use of silk among the men at Rome — a prodigal. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 301 " Ptolemy, the first who described the earth by longitude and latitude, derived the idea from a work of Hipparchus. " Under Justinian lived one Cosmas, an Egyptian mer- chant, surnamed, from his trading to India, Indicopleustes : having assumed at last the monastic character, in the soli- tude of his cell he composed several works, one of which, dignified by the name of ' Christian Topography,' has reached us. The main design of it is to combat the opinions of those philosophers who maintain the earth to be of a spherical figure ; and to prove that it is an oblong plane, twelve thou- sand miles in length from east to west, and six thousand in breadth from north to south, surrounded by high walls, covered with the firmament as with a canopy or vault ; and that day and night are occasioned by a mountain of great height, situated at the extremities of the north, round which the sun moves : he had a great regard for truth. " A. D. 551, two Persian monks, missionaries to India, brought the eggs of the silkworm to Justinian, emperor of Constantinople. They were hatched in a dunghill ; and from them proceeded all the insects of that kind in Europe. — Cosmas. ' " Cosmo di Medici, the head of a family which rose from obscurity by its success in trade, was reckoned the most wealthy merchant ever known in Europe. " The ' Mahabarat.' — An Indian poem, containing upwards of four hundred thousand lines. Part of it translated by Wilkins. The subject of the poem is a famous war between two branches of the royal family of Bhaurat. " * In thy passage over this earth,' says Cana to Sacontala, in that Indian play, ' where the paths are now high, now low, and the true path seldom distinguished, the traces of thy 302 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. feet must needs be unequal ; but virtue will press thee right onward.' " Sentiments of the Bramins concerning the Soul. From the Mahabarat. " ' Some regard the soulas a wonder, others hear of it with astonishment ; but no one knoweth it. The weapon divideth it not ; the fire burneth it not ; the water corrupteth it not ; the wind driveth it not away : for it is indivisible, in- consumable, incorruptible ; it is eternal, universal, permanent, immovable ; it is invisible, inconceivable, and unalterable.' * Morality. From the same Poem. " * The man is praised who, having subdued all his passions, performeth with his active faculties all the functions of life, unconcerned about the event. Let the motive be in the deed, and not in the event. Be not one whose motive for action is the hope of reward.' w Vishnou. — The Indian god who, according to Bramin theology, has come often to earth to suppress wickedness. " c It is impossible to conduct women and the gross mul- titude, and render them holy, pious, and upright, by the pre- cepts of philosophy. Superstition and the fear of the gods must be called in, which is founded on fiction and prodigies.' Strabo. " In India, between Lahore in the Panjab and Agra, there is all the way, a distance of five hundred miles, a row of shady trees. " Ideas to be Dilated. " Now fancy hath come in from her flight — memory hath THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 303 given 5 up her trust — what was vigorous hath become weak — what was cheerful dull, what was quick-sighted and discur- sive, dim, wavering, and inactive. <* The bad effects of indecision on a man of learning. " The struggles of genius with temptation. " All descriptive and moral thought expressed in the English language, is to be found most beautifully and most power- fully brought out in blank verse. The loss of the English blank verse would do our polite literature infinitely more harm than the loss of all our rhyme. It is blank verse, not rhyme, in which the British muse soars high above the other nations of modern Europe, and perches on the heights of immortality, where the Grecian and Roman muses receive her as an equal. " dissipation in last extreme — spirits of the just — angels. " ' How he should be truly eloquent who is not withal a good man, I see not.' — Milton."* After finishing " The Course of Time," he kept no note- book of any kind whatever, so that it seems proper here to give a summary account of all his notes that are preserved. They compose thirty-two thin octavo volumes, and contain upwards of seven hundred pages. They consist of facts and extracts from his reading, of outlines of the Professors' lectures at college, and of records of his thoughts; the first filling nearly two hundred pages, the second upwards of four hundred, and the last about a hundred. They were all written between the * This extract from Milton, which is followed in his note-book by twelve blank leaves, and on which he has closed the book before the ink was dry, was in all probability, as appears from the handwriting and other circumstances, the last extract that he ever put on paper. 304 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, twenty-first and twenty-ninth year of his age. As a whole, they show, more than any thing else that he has written, the variety and extent of his reading, the closeness of his atten- tion to authors, and the pains which he has taken to acquire knowledge and collect materials for writing. In August, a month after he finished " The Course of Time," he returned to the Hall to complete his theological studies there. His discourse, this session, was a dissertation on the Fall of Man, the text of which was Gen. iii. 4, 5, 6 ; and it received the marked approbation of the Professor. It was, he said, just what a dissertation of the kind ought to be. This session he attended, more frequently than he had done hitherto, the meetings of the Students' Society, and took a more active and prominent part in the business and discussions at these meetings ; became extensively acquainted with his fellow-students ; and left the Hall with their re- spect, esteem, and love. At my request, the Rev. Dr David King, minister of the United Secession congregation, Greyfriars, Glasgow, has kindly favoured me with a letter, giving me some of his Hall recollections of him, with permission to insert them in their proper places in his Life. The first part of the doctor's letter relates to his standing as a theological student, and to the appearances which he made in the debates or discus- sions in the Students' Society during his last session. It is as follows : — " Harrowgate,* April 5, 1840. tl My Dear Sir — I take my pen in hand to give you, as you * Dr King was on a -visit at Harrowgate when he wrote the letter. THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 305 requested, some Hall recollections of your lamented brother, Mr Robert Pollok. Not having enjoyed much of his inti- mate friendship, my remarks must be, on that account, the more general, and, I fear, the less interesting. " His standing as a theological student was not incon- gruous with his subsequent success as a Christian poet. That his poetical powers were then fully appreciated, or the fame since won by his genius distinctly foreseen, it would be unguarded to allege. But the discovery of his capabilities was not so very sudden, nor did the splendour of their achieve- ments take his fellow- students so much by surprise, as is apt in these cases to be averred, sometimes from a love of the marvellous, and sometimes in disparagement of the particular circle or denomination by which distinguished merit is sup- posed to have been overlooked. In testifying to the esteem in which he was then held, I do not allude so much to the discourses which he delivered before our revered Professor; for though they were undoubtedly respectable, I do not know that they would, of themselves, have secured a general and abiding impression of his decided superiority. I refer especially to the appearances which he made in our Students' Society. Your readers must be made aware, that the stu- dents of our religious body were then in the practice of meeting together, apart from the regular class-hours, to deliver theo- logical exercises, and also to transact business connected with the library, and other matters entrusted to their care, out of which engagements arose questions, not very important in themselves or to the eye of a stranger, but quite sufficient to bestir youthful ardour and emulation, and to occasion debates as animated as if the being of the Hall or the prospects of the church had been staked on the result. 2c 306 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " In these debates your brother took little part till he entered on the last session of his theological course ; and during that session he engaged in them with a zealous in- terest, not to have been expected from his previous reserve. His ability as a speaker at once obtained for him admiration and influence ; and those who did not concur in his senti- ments on the particular points discussed, generally acknow- ledged the tact and force with which they had been advo- cated. In speaking, however, he was not always prompt in expression. He had nothing of that sparkling cleverness which is sometimes as telling in debate as more substantial properties. Occasionally he halted in a sentence as if still excogitating materials of reply from his mental resources, or as if he were consciously in possession of important prin- ciples to which he was unwilling to do injustice by an imper- fect utterance of them, " These disadvantages were counterbalanced by the power- ful grasp he took of bis subject, and also by the cogency with which he presented his views of it to others. His manner itself, if not characterized by the lighter graces of a fluent oratory, was exceedingly energetic. The expression of his countenance was earnest and commanding ; his voice was an appropriate vehicle for the intenser emotions ; and there was a power in his eye, which I do not remember to have seen equalled — especially when he became indignant at statements w r hich he disrelished ; and he seemed to rouse his energies, as if by a determined effort, to bear down opposition. Of course, it was only at times that such qualities could develope them- selves ; and on ordinary occasions he made no superfluous displays, but spoke with a natural unpretending propriety, Indeed, his whole style of speaking was very evidently his THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 307 own, having nothing of the assumed or artificial about it ; and exhibited equally the impress of nature, whether, as cir- cumstances varied, it partook more of the tranquil or the impassioned. On a general view, I have no hesitation in saying that he possessed high qualifications as a debater ; and that, if he had been spared in the dispensations of Divine Pro- vidence, there is every reason to believe he would have been eminently useful both in addressing public assemblies, and in aiding the deliberations of the church." During his course of theological study, he wrote two ser- mons for the pulpit. The following are their texts : 1 Kings, xviii. 21, " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal, then follow him;" and 1 Pet. ii. 17, " Fear God." The occasion of writing on the first of these texts was somewhat interesting, and seems worthy of notice here. One day when he and Mr Marr were taking a walk together at Moorhouse, after having spent several days there in recreation, being in a curious thoughtful state of mind, and talking a word, now and then, about preaching and mak- ing discourses for the pulpit, they agreed to give one another a text, and not to leave the house again till each of them wrote a sermon. Robert then gave Mr Marr the following words in Psalm xciii. 5 — ~" Holiness becometh thy house, O Lord, for ever ; " and Mr Marr gave Robert these words in 1 Kings xviii. 21 — " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal, then follow him." On returning to the house they sat down together at the same table, and wrote each a sermon on his text according to agreement. Robert wrote his at two sittings — the one of two hours and the other of three ; and he never transcribed it. 308 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. During the five sessions that he studied at the Hall, and the four winters that he passed in Glasgow in the course of his theological studies, he usually attended sermon in Grey- friars' church, where his venerated Professor, Dr Dick, was minister; and it may be mentioned that, so far as I am aware, he was known to only one member of the doctor's congregation. This was one of the elders, Robert Hood, Esq., who was introduced to him by the Rev. James Dick- son, Eaglesham ; and was, so far as 1 know, the only wealthy influential citizen of Glasgow with whom he formed an acquaintance. Indeed, he knew only two or three families in the whole city. It seems proper to conclude this chapter with some mis- cellaneous remarks, relative chiefly to his habits and manners. From his boyhood up to the finishing of his studies at the Hall, he played occasionally at the game of draughts, and was reckoned a superior player. After his second session at college, he and his friend Mr Marr sometimes played to- gether ; and their games, as Robert once told me, being deep and carefully managed, required great thinking, and strength- ened and sharpened the mind. His manners were easy, natural, and unaffected, possess- ing, like his character, great variety. He had no eccentricities of any kind ; and, however deeply engaged in study, was never absent or abstracted. His brother John says, " I often went in to him when he was writing ' The Course of Time ;' and he spoke to me whenever I went in, and began to talk just as if he had not been thinking ; nor did he ever seem to be busy, but had always leisure to do any thing." He was generally frank, open, and affable ; but to those who were inquisitive THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 309 and encroaching, especially if they were wealthy or literary individuals, he was not only distant and reserved, but utterly inaccessible. In company he was lively and cheerful, equable in tem- perament, humorous, jocular, and satirical ; a free ready talker, and unequalled at repartee and banter. When he was much opposed in argument, and found his opponent troublesome, he suddenly became silent, drew himself forward on the chair, and, looking his opponent commandingly in the face, uttered something strong and expressive, which put an end to opposition. His conversational powers were equal to his talents for writing ; and, though he sometimes talked nonsense in joke, he was always amusing and instructive. It was said of him, that there was " sense in his nonsense," and that it required great talent to talk it as well as he did. He was never trifling either in his conversations or in his amusements ; but had always something in view which he was eager to attain or accomplish. Notwithstanding he was a hearty laugher, he was remarkable for command of his risible faculties ; and when he did not want to laugh, nothing whatever could, in the slightest degree, discompose his gravity. When he was speaking satirically, he generally looked quite grave and serious ; so that it was impossible to know that he was not in earnest, except by previously know- ing his principles or his opinions ; and very few knew him so well as to be able to say at all times whether he was in jest or earnest. If he saw that any one had rashly and unreasonably formed an erroneous opinion of him, instead of doing any thing to 310 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. correct it, he was sure, by words, looks, or tones of voice, to confirm the person in it. Of this the following instance may be given : — On being introduced by me, on one of his visits at Auchindinny, to a family, composed at the time of a mother and two or three grown-up daughters, he took his seat beside the latter, began to talk to them in a jocular way, spoke of laughing as a good thing, and said he often laughed himself. On this, the old woman, who had been previously talking to me, looked at him gravely, and said slowly and plaintively, speaking in the Scottish dialect, " Ye'll no aye laugh." He instantly stopped speaking, turned round towards her, and, looking her seriously in the face, said cautiously and considerately, " No, Ma'am ; I think I have sometimes been half an hour at a time without laughing." " Ay," replied the good old woman, shaking her head and sighing, " ay, stop till ye come my length, an' ye'll be langer * at a time ' without laughing." It may be added, that, not long afterwards, the old lady, on reading his " Tales for Youth," told me she thought he was a heedless young man who would never think any ; and apologized for having formed such an opinion of him. One of the most remarkable things about him., next to the facility with which he wrote, was the rapidity with which he acquired knowledge, together with the extent of informa« tion which he derived from a few principles or facts. If he glanced at the subject of a book, or heard it referred to in conversation, he seemed to be master of it, and could talk or write on it with intelligence and perspicuity. It may be mentioned, in conclusion, that he had neither a good musical ear nor a good voice for singing ; so that he THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 311 seldom attempted to sing", and acquired only two or three tunes of sacred music, one of which was St Neot's, which he uniformly sang when he had occasion to lead psalmody in family worship 312 THE LIFE OE ROBERT POLLOK. CHAPTER XI. In the beginning of October, having finished the usual course of study at the Hall, Robert left it to transcribe " The Course of Time," in order to have it ready for the press by New- Year's Day. For this purpose he went to Dunferm- line, as his relative Mr John Campbell was then settled there ; and also as it was near Edinburgh, where he in- tended during winter to publish his poem, and take license to preach the gospel. He left Glasgow for Dunfermline by coach, about the 2d of October, at six o'clock in the morning. His friend Mr Marr and I, carried his trunk from his lodgings at the head of Crown Street, Hutchesontown, to the coach- omce in Trongate ; where he was told that it could not go by coach that day, but that it would be sent the clay following ; upon which he entrusted it to the care of the clerk, making him promise to come good for it. He then made a momentary pause, and hastily taking the key of the trunk from his pocket, opened it, took out the manuscript of his poem, rolled it up into a scroll, and put it into his great-coat pocket, saying to Mr Marr and me, with a look of satisfaction, " A man is just as well to have the hank in his own hand." He then bade us THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 313 farewell, and set out for Dunfermline — leaving Glasgow, where he had passed nine winters in prosperous study, to see it only once or twice more in his life. Immediately after his arrival at Dunfermline, being accom- modated with comfortable lodgings in the house of Mr John Davidson, bookseller, High Street, he proceeded " to correct and copy out " his poem ; which he had not, as he intended, begun to do before. The following letter, which he wrote to his father in the beginning of November, will show how he proceeded with its transcription : — " Dunfermline, Nov. 2, 1826. " Dear Father — The sum of what I have to say to you at this time is, that I have been, in every respect, extremely comfortable since I came to this place. Kindness after kind- ness has been heaped upon me ; and invitations, by the most respectable inhabitants of the place, continue to increase. I have not, however, neglected my own pursuits. I have been here only a month, and I am approaching to a close with the correction and copying out of my poem ; so that two or three weeks will suffice for the finishing of it. I have indeed been much assisted in this wearisome process by a lady here, who has undertaken the writing out of four books of it, and will soon have them finished. It is astonishing with what facility she reads my old crabbed manuscript. Indeed, I sometimes think she has got a little touch of inspiration.* " To-morrow, I mean to go to Edinburgh, as the Presby- tery meets on Tuesday next, and I mean to be in waiting for "This "lady" was Miss Jessie Swan, daughter of Mr William Swan, manufacturer, in whose family Robert was treated as a son and a bro ther, 2t> 314 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. it. As soon as it is over, however, I intend to return to Dunfermline, and remain there till I have finished the cor- rection of my poem. My lodgings are cheap, and very com- fortable. " I have heard nothing of David, but hope to meet him in Edinburgh. How is Margaret and Janet Young, and John s family, and Mrs Gilmour ? Let me know how you all are. Tell all my friends who enquire for me, that I have wished you to give them my compliments. Tell young John that I remember him in particular, and wish much to hear that he is learning something. And tell Janet Young that I wish her to be obedient to Margaret and Mrs Gilmour, and to apply herself diligently to reading, writing, and sewing. " I have taken every care of my health since I left home, and I have reason to thank God that it is very good. " Mr Campbell is well situated here. He and Mrs Camp- bell are most kind j and, although I do not live with them, but in lodgings, I am often there, and perfectly at home. " I wish you to write me directly, as I am wearing uncom- monly to hear from you* Address to me, at Mr Davidson's, bookseller, Dunfermline. I shall expect a letter in a few days. In the mean time, I am, dear father, your affection- ate son, « R, POLLOK." On the 3d of November, the day after writing this letter, he went to Edinburgh to be in readinesss for the Presbytery ; and while there he called, without introduction, on Mr Blackwood, and told him he had some manuscript poetry that might perhaps lie in his way. Mr Blackwood made some enquiry about the poetry, and in the end, after a short THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 315 conversation respecting it, said, if the manuscript should be sent to him when it was finished, he would " look into it." Such was the first trial that he made to publish " The Course of Time." On Tuesday the 7th of November, having undergone the usual examination, he was taken on trials for license to preach the gospel, by the United Associate Presbytery of Edinburgh ; and had subjects for trial-discourses assigned him. The same day he returned to Dunfermline, and proceeded with the transcribing of his poem. When it was finished he sent the manuscript to Mr Blackwood, accompanied with the following letter, expressive of some of his sentiments respect- ing it :— « Dunfermline, Nov. 22, 1826. " Sir — With this you will receive the manuscript of which I spoke to you, two or three weeks ago. It is a poem in ten books, embracing a great variety of subjects. You will judge of the manner in which these are handled, and, as I hope the poem will explain itself, I deem it unnecessary to say any thing of the plan. It is, as far as I know, new ; the senti- ments which I have expressed of religion, which is especially treated of in the second book, are such as seemed to me agreeable to the Word of God ; and in few instances, I believe, will they be found differing from the approved creed of our country. In the language, I have intentionally avoided a pompous and swelling phraseology, and have aimed mainly at strength and perspecuity. If the work take at all, it must take extensively, as all mankind are alike interested in the subject of it. ■' The first six books, in my own hand, may be a little 316 THtE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. difficult to read ; the four last, which were copied by a young hand, are rather crowded in the words, and there are some inaccuracies ; hut the person who is able to judge of the merit of the work, will also be able to correct for himself any thing of this kind. " I hope you will look into the manuscript as soon as it may suit your convenience, as I wish to have it published some time during the present winter. I intend to be in Edinburgh in the course of two weeks, and shall then call on you. In the mean time, as I have scarcely another complete copy of the poem, I shall be anxious to know if it has come safely into your hands ; will you, therefore, be so kind as let me know ? A note addressed to me at Mr Davidson's, book- seller, Dunfermline, will find me. — lam, sir, yours, " R, Pollok." Immediately after sending away this letter, he began to prepare his homily, the first of his trial-discourses ; and on Tuesday, the 5th of December, he went to Edinburgh and delivered it to the Presbytery, which sustained it as part of his trials for license. From the Presbytery he went, according to his promise, and called on Mr Blackwood to see whether he would publish his poem or not. That gentleman received him courteously ; and said that he had read the poem, and had formed a very high opinion of it, also that he had sent the manuscript for perusal to Professor Wilson and Mr Moir, and that their opinion coincided with his own ; he then frankly gave him their letters respecting it. When Robert had read them, Mr Blackwood told him, that from what he thought of it himself, as well as from what his two literary friends had said of it, though THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLL OK. 317 he was not sure how it would take with the public, he was willing to publish a small edition of the work, and to allow him one half of the profits. To these terms Robert imme- diately agreed, and Mr Blackwood told him the work would be put to press about the new-year, when his presence in Edinburgh would be desirable, if not necessary. In the mean time he returned to Dunfermline and prepared his lecture, his second trial-discourse, which was to be delivered at the meeting of Presbytery in the beginning of January. In the end of December his poem was put to press ; and on the 30th of that month he left Dunfermline, and went to Edinburgh. On his arrival there, he took lodgings at No. 3, Davie Street, in the Old Town. Here, in the end of 1826, an utter stranger, without introduction and without money, he took up his residence to correct the proof-sheets ..-of " The Course of Time," as they passed through the press, and to prosecute his trials for license. At the meeting of Presbytery on Tuesday the 2d of January, he went to deliver his lecture, which he had pre- pared at Dunfermline ; but he had to put off the delivery of it for a month. Next day he was introduced by Mr Blackwood to Profes- sor Wilson ; and the following letter, which he wrote to his father a few hours after, gives some account of the conver- sation with him : — " Edinburgh, Jan. 3, 1827. " Dear Father — I have been waiting anxiously for some time, that I might have something decided to say about my poem ; and now I am happy to tell you that it is in the press. Mr Blackwood, the only publisher in Scotland to 318 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. whom I would have given it, has agreed to publish it. I have reserved the copyright in my own hand, and, of course, have secured the profits for twenty-eight years — if there be any profits. " You have heard me speak of Professor Wilson : he is one of the greatest literary men of the age, and the principal contributor to 'Blackwood's Magazine,' one of the most power- ful reviews in Britain. But, better than this, his opinion of my work is extremely high — as high as my own ; and, you know, that is high enough. I had a conversation with him to-day ; and he has no doubt that, whatever may be the reception of the work at first, it will ultimately take a high and a lasting place among the English poetry. He was pleased, indeed, to compliment me very highly, and expressed great happiness that I come from Renfrewshire, which is his native shire also. But what is of more advantage to me than this, he has kindly offered to assist me, with all his might, in revising and correcting the sheets as they come through the press. It will gratify John a little to tell him that Mr Wilson pointed out the character of Lord Byron as ' a very extraordinary piece of writing :'* he will remember that he thought it the best of the whole. " In six weeks, or two months at most, you may expect to seethe work before the public; and I beseech you prepare your- self for hearing most murderous criticisms. * Mr Wilson told him that, in deciding on the merits of the work, he read only the passage referred to, and the description of the Millennium ; as he knew, he said, that these two specimens would compare, perhapa- to advantage, with any thing in British literature, and was sure that the man who wrote them would not let any thing out of his hands that was not good. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 319 " It would be impossible to give you even a sketch of my history for the last six weeks. I met with extraordinary kindness in Dunfermline ; but the necessity of my presence here compelled me to leave it. I came to Edinburgh on Saturday last, and am lodged most comfortably at 3, Davie Street, in the house of a Mr Lawson, on the same stair-head with David. My health has been, upon the whole, good. David is well, and wishes you to consider the latter part of this letter as from him also. We are getting on with the Presbytery ; but they are, as Mr Marr says, ' a curious class of men/ " You may tell my friends that the poem is in the press, and that they may expect copies of it in about two months. How are Margaret, John, and his family, Mrs Gilmour, young John, and Janet Young ? That I do not write to them is, first, because I am really very much engaged ; and second, because this letter to you will tell them all I could say of moment. But it would gratify me exceedingly to hear from them ; tell them all to write. * * * Tell all my friends that I remember them daily, and will be happy to hear from any of them. I would like very much if Miss Jean Pollok would write a letter, giving me the kind of lad- and-lass news of the place. I hope you have good health. David and I wish you and all our friends a happy new- year. " The gentlemen here had no difficulty in reading my manuscript. Write to me immediately, and write by post, unless you have some parcel to send. — Yours, dear father, « R. Pollok." From the following letter, which he wrote to his father 320 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. towards the end of January, it will be seen how the print- ing of his poem and his trials for license were then going " Edinburgh, Jan. 22, 1827. * Dear Father — I am surprised that I received no letter from you, and as I have an opportunity of sending this by Mr Mitchell,* I embrace it, to request you to let us know, as soon as possible, how you are. I wrote to you about two weeks ago, stating that my poem was in the press ; and, as I cannot suppose that you have not got the letter, I shall not repeat any thing which I said in it. Only I may mention that the printing is proceeding with as much rapidity as I can expect, and that Professor Wilson continues to render me all the assistance he can. " If you will examine the drawer of the old table on which I used to write, you will find, in some corner of it, or in some of the books which are lying in it, two sheets of paper, decently written, in a hand similar to that in which I am just writing ; one of the sheets begins with this line : — i As one who meditates at evening tide.' Send them to me with your letter, and as many letters as you can collect among my friends. If they are here in the course of a week or ten days they will be in time. It is merely for a correction which I made on two lines, that I want the sheets. I know the correction pleased me, and I cannot now remem- ber what it was. You must, therefore, be sure to send them. My lodgings are at Mr Lawson's, 3, Davie Street. * James Mitchell, M.D., Esq., Darwhilling.. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 321 " We are getting on with the Presbytery but slowly, on account of the great number of young men who are on trials before it ; nearly the half of those who finished their course in the Hall last session, are here. " David sends his compliments ; we are both well. Dr Mitchell supped with me this evening, and David and I go to breakfast with him at the Crown Inn to-morrow morning. I tell you this circumstance, because it shows the attention of so worthy a gentleman, and because I feel myself happy in having seen a face from the west country, and, therefore, wish to be talking about it. •* I had a letter the other day from the Rev. Robert Pollok, Buckhaven ; he seems to be getting on well ; I have not seen him, however, since that night we were at Moorhouse together. " It would be a curious thing to get a letter from . I can conceive him coming in to the old spence and gather- ing up a bit of paper, a drop of ink, and some stump of an old pen or two, that have been left from the writing of * The Course of Time' — and then coming back for a penknife — and then sitting down with all this apparatus about him. But when will his letter be finished ? I can see it will be a prodigious labour for him indeed. " We expect Margaret to write; and I think Mrs Gilmour, who has nothing to do, might send a line. Dear Father, yours affectionately, " R. Pollok. " Tell young John and Janet Young, that I remember them daily, and they must not forget me. Tell little Robert 322 THE LIFE GF ROBERT POLLOK. and David,* that I saw an elephant the other day, with a great long nose, which I will tell them about when I come home. Compliments to uncle's family." At the meeting of Presbytery in the beginning of Febru- ary, he delivered his lecture, which, after the usual criticism, was sustained as part of his trials for license ; and towards the end of the same month, while the printing of " The Course of Time" was going on, he prepared his critical exercise and additions, the subject of which was Heb. ii. 9. At that time he was so much exhausted and was so weak, that he could not sit at table to write his exercise. This arose from the unexpected protraction of the printing of his poem, and from his close watchful application to its revision and correction, which, by keeping his mind long in suspense, and long in contact with mere words, accents, and points — things most uncongenial to his nature — produced an irrita- ting mental and bodily excitement, that entirely took away his sleep ; so that, to use his own words, he " lay every night broad awake, engaged in thought." Once, while he was preparing the exercise, I remember going into his room to see how he was getting on, and I found him writing at the fireside, on his landlord's family Bible laid across his knees. In the beginning of March he delivered the exercise to the Presbytery, and it was received as part of his trials for license ; and by the middle of March the printing of his poem, so unexpectedly protracted, was beginning to draw to a close. His mind being relieved, in great measure, from the anxiety * His brother John's children, whom, in the intervals of writing " The Course of Time," at Moorhouse, in the summers of 1825-6, he used to lead out into the fields. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 323 of correction, had regained its usual tranquillity, and his bodily strength was much recruited ; and to the publication of his poem, now approaching, he looked forward with per- fect equanimity. " The work," he said to me, " may find its way slowly into public notice, but it will find it." One night, after having corrected the last, or nearly the last, sheet of his poem, he gave me a most interesting account of an extensive prose work which he intended to write. It had arisen, as he expressed it, " from the rejected matter of * The Course of Time,' " and was to be a survey of litera- ture by the light of Divine Revelation, or a review in which the literature of all ages would be brought to the test and standard of Christianity. He thought that the work would extend to five or six octavo volumes, and that it would take him five or six years to write. The first volume of it was to be wholly introductory, showing the nature, ex- tent, and importance of the subject. In the progress of the work, he meant to classify authors, and give a general view of their writings ; select one from each class, and review him thoroughly, pointing out his characteristics, and then bring him to the test of Christianity. As the prince and representative of heathen poets, he intended to select Homer ; and in reviewing him and other authors before the Christian era, his design was to show how far they agreed with Christianity, and how far they dif- fered from or were opposed to it ; and it would be seen, he remarked, that they were opposed to it in almost every thing. He meant, he said, " to have a volume of splendid writing at the introduction of Christianity," showing the state of the world at that time, and the change produced by the coming of the Saviour. " This volume," he said with 324 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. great enthusiasm, " will be, in many places, more poetical than any thing in ' The Course of Time.' " In reviewing authors who have written since the Christian era, his inten- tion was to enquire how much they had been influenced by heathen literature ; " and it would be found," he observed, " that they had been much influenced by it all along, even to the present day." Among the modern poets he meant to review Milton, Shakspeare, and Byron ; and Milton was to be the first poet that would stand the test. From the moralists he had selected Addison and Johnson, and their morality was to be carefully examined. Novels of all kinds he was determined to condemn entirely ; and he meant to give the Novels of Sir Walter Scott athorough scrutiny. After review- ing published sermons, which he said would be found to be tinc- tured, more or less, with heathen philosophy, he intended to examine pulpit oratory — "the preaching of the present day," which, he added, would not altogether stand the test ; " for even here there will be found a sprinkling of heathen litera- ture." And the work was to conclude with the signs of the times, showing from facts and from the Bible what progress the world will make, and what perfection it will attain in literature and in Christianity. On the writing of this work, it may be added here, his heart was greatly set. He contemplated it with much delight, and was eager to commence it. The truth is, as it had " arisen from the rejected matter of < The Course of Time,' " he reckoned it so far supplemental to it ; and, as he rested his poetic fame on the poem, so he meant to rest his literary reputation on the prose-work. But, alas ! he was not spared to undertake it. When he had finished the correction of his poem, he pre* THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 325 pared for the Presbytery his fourth trial-discourse, the text of -which was Psalm lxxii. 17, " His name shall endure for ever: his name shall be continued as long as the sun ; and men shall be blessed in him : all nations shall call him blessed " — a text, as he said, " most congenial and refreshing to his soul." On the 24th of March, while he was engaged in pre- paring this sermon, which was the last that he ever wrote, " The Course of Time" was published. It will be proper now to give some account of the manu- scripts and the correction of the poem. There were but two manuscripts of it, and one of these, indeed, was scarcely complete. In leaving Dunfermline for Edinburgh, in the end of 1826, after having transcribed it for the press, he gave his friend Mr John Campbell, at his own request, the original manuscript of the work ; and that gentleman, a few years afterwards, on going to live in Belfast, placed it in the College Museum of that town. With respect to the cor- rection which he gave the poem, it was not much ; and the alterations that he made, it would appear, were neither nu- merous nor important ; as Mr Campbell told me, that he and another gentleman, soon after the publication of the poem, compared the printed copy with the original drafts, and the dif- ference between them, he said, was so small, that the work would have suffered little, if any, to have been printed from that manuscript. In revising the transcribed- copy of his poem for the press, the corrections that he gave it were very few, as the manuscript itself, now in my possession, shows throughout ; there being few marks of correction, and some whole books of it, especially of the first six, which he copied himself, having scarcely any at all. As for the altera^ 326 THE LIFE OP EGBERT FOLLOK. tions that lie made in the proof-sheets of the work, they were confined chiefly to the harmony of the verse. It may be added, in fine, on this subject, that throughout the whole process of revision and correction, while the printing of his poem was going on, he read, at intervals, the standard Eng- lish blank verse writers, to keep his mind familiar with poetical ideas, language, and imagery, and to test severely his own versification, to which, in that process, he gave much attention. On the publication of his poem, he sent a copy of it, with the following letter, to his father, along with a few others to his relations about Moorhouse and in Ayrshire : — " Edinburgh, March 22, 1827. " Dear Father— -You will receive, along with this, a parcel of my poem. I would have sent more copies of it, but it is expensive. You can lend your copy to Jean — Margaret, of course, will see it. The others you will send to the persons to whom they are addressed. " David has got your letter. It is well that you are in good health ; and I hope we shall soon get out of our diffi- culties. " It will be the 1st of May before the students be licensed in this Presbytery. We will likely be in the west country towards the end of May. We are both well, only I am a little worn with the application of the last two months.— ■=- Yours affectionately, " R. Pollok. " Let us hear from you soon. I expect to hear from John/' While he was addressing the copies of his poem sent along with this letter, I happened to say to him, as he paused a THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 327 little to consider how many it would be necessary to forward to his relations, " You will send a copy of it to your cousin Robert Pollok;" and he said, " Yes, for it was in his com- pany that I learned to write the ' Course of Time'" — re- ferring, I understood, to the impressions which he received, the ideas which he formed, and the habits of observation and thinking which he acquired in early life, when he and Robert were constant companions ; and also to many long conversations that he had with him in after-life, when he talked to him at large of man and nature, of religion, phi- losophy, and poetry, till, by degrees, he came to view them as they now appear in that work, Besides presenting ten or twelve copies of his poem to his relations, he sent about an equal number to his friends and acquaintance ; and it seems worthy of being remarked, that, on addressing a copy of it to the Rev. Robert Pollok, he said he would send copies of it to only other two ministers, Dr Ferrier and Dr Dick ; but each of these should have one as a mark of his estimation of their character. It may be added as a memorable coincidence, that these two great and good men acknowledged the reception of their copies in the same way, and nearly in the same words. Dr Ferrier said to Mr Marr, on telling him that he had received his copy, " I should write acknowledging it; but tell Mr Pollok that I thank him for the honour he has done me in sending it ; for I do count it an honour : it is an immortal work." And Dr Dick said to me, after Robert's death, in speaking of the copy which he had re- ceived, " I should have written to your brother. I was pleased, however, with the honour that he conferred on me 328 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. in sending- me a copy of his poem, which I read with much satisfaction : it will be lasting." Immediately on publication, his poem produced consider- able sensation in Edinburgh ; and, in the course of a week after it was published, it was generally known there and in the neighbourhood. On Wednesday, the 4th of April, Robert delivered his popular sermon, the fourth of his trial-discourses. When he rose to proceed to the pulpit, the members of Presby- tery looked eagerly at him, as if he had been some interest- ing stranger who had never appeared among them before ; and when he had delivered the discourse, only one of them rose to criticise it ; while the rest said, without rising, that they had no remarks to make on it. One of them added, with a look of complacency, " It is just such a discourse as I would have expected from that gentleman, from what I have heard out of doors." After this, the sermon was, without further remark, sustained as part of his trials for license. In the month of April he wrote his Latin exigesis, the theme of which was, " An Ecclesia vel Scriptura in re fidei judex?"* prepared a Hebrew psalm, and revised a century or two of Church history ; which were all his trial-exercises that remained. In the course of that month, he told me one day, in com- ing in from a walk, that he had just seen Mr Robertson, the publisher of " Ralph Gemmell " and " The Persecuted Family," and that he had received from him a very liberal offer to allow him to publish these tales with his name as the * Whether is the Church or Scripture judge in matters of fadth ? THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 329 author of " The Course of Time ;" but that he had refused to allow him to do so on any terms, adding 1 , with emphasis, " How could I acknowledge them ? I do not know but I may yet publish a work condemning all such writings." Towards the end of the month, when he had gone out of town on a visit for a few days, he received a letter from Mr Blackwood, indicating very satisfactorily to what extent " The Course of Time" had then attracted public attention. At the next meeting of Presbytery, which continued two days, Robert appeared before it for the last time. On Tues- day, the 1st of May, he read his Latin exigesis ; and on Wed- nesday, the 2d of the month, having performed the remain- der of his trials, he was, along with other nine students and myself, licensed to preach the gospel, under the inspection of the United Associate Synod ; and his name, in common with theirs, was ordered, according to the injunction of Synod, to be put on the list of probationers in the United Secession church. While he was going on with the publication of his poem and his trials for license, he wrote for a new periodical, called " The Esk," an article entitled a " Serious Thought," which may be appropriately inserted at the close of this chapter. " Serious Thought. " The immensity of creation is an awful thought, and well calculated to humble the pride of aspiring humanity. While the mind is wholly engaged with itself, planning, specula- ting, and performing, it disregards all other agency ; forgets its comparative worth; and, in the flood-tide of its own selfish passions, feels as if it was really a thing of high and 2 E 330 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. mighty importance. But, after the imagination has gone forth over the ample scenery of nature, and wearied itself with traversing that height and depth, that breadth and length of apparent existence, ' which passes knowledge,' it returns home into the little chamber of its own being, blush- ing with the consciousness of its own individual littleness. The sedate and contemplative man sees every where such magnitude and variety, agents and operations so numerous, and conceives so much and so many more, as cannot fail to reduce his own self-importance, and press him down to the lowly conclusion, that he bears no greater proportion to the immensity of being and number of agents, than does one grain of sand to the whole globe of the earth, and that his total dis- missal from the theatre of creation would attract as little notice as the removal of that single sand from the terrestrial orb. No wonder, then, that the pagan philosophers, enquiring and contemplative men, with no better light than fallen human reason to guide their speculations, were led to the dreary supposition, that the Great Spirit, retired in the deep unsearchable of his own eternity, or occupied with lofty general management, had left this little world, with all its little concerns, to wander on without any discriminating pro- vidence, and without any destination of its particular events. Such, indeed, seems to be a very natural deduction of unas- sisted human reasoning. When a man aseends the heights of thought, passes from world to world, from system to sys- tem, glances over the immense wilderness of being, and then stays his imagination on the infinite magnitude of the whole, to what conclusion can he arrive, but that he is too minute and insignificant a thing to be of any individual value, or to THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK* 331 attract any notice from the Creator of so vast a universe ? But how dismal is such a thought ! how cold, and comfort- less, and abasing, is such a conclusion ! And how cheering to one, amidst such dark and desolate apprehensions, is the voice of that Revelation which proclaims to every son of man, that the hairs of his head are all numbered by the great God, that every tear of genuine sorrow is preserved in his bottle, and that not so much as a sparrow falls unheeded to the ground ! The omniscience which his watchful pro- vidence implies, is, no doubt, sometimes a painful thought to the best of men. If the superintending wisdom and care of the Almighty be ever present, the eye of his infinite purity must be ever present also, looking on every action, and piercing into every thought and intent of the heart. And who has not reason to blush ? who has not reason to tremble? who has not reason to hide himself from the presence of the Lord God ? But this feeling of shame will find a covering in the mercy of that very Being whose eye discovers the guilt that causes it- He offers to the sinful man a robe of righteousness to hide his spiritual deformity, and a sanctify- ing Spirit to renew and purify his heart ; and thus, while he is relieved from the shame and terror which the presence of a holy and omniscient Being must have else excited, he is left with the comfortable assurance that the Angel of the Covenant is ever at his right hand ; that, amidst all the vastness and variety of visible and invisible, he is an object of particular attention ; that, in every vicissitude of this ever- shifting, ever-changing mortal scenery, he is directed by a wise and omnipotent guide ; and that, when he leaves this world, and enters into the darkness of an untried and unknown 332 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. futurity, he shall be led, by the golden chain of eternal love, with safe and unerring step into the everlasting chambers of his Father's house, and shall drink of those pleasures which are before his face and at his right hand for evermore." THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 333 CHAPTER XII. Immediately on receiving license, Robert was engaged by Mr, now Dr John Brown, Rose Street, to preach to his con- gregation next day ; and he went straight from the Pres- bytery to his lodgings to prepare himself for the occasion. The sermon that he fixed on was the one on 1 Kings, xviii. 21, " If the Lord be God, follow him ; but if Baal, then follow him ; " and he began without delay to commit it to memory. The day following, Thursday the 3d of May, at eleven o'clock in the forenoon, he went to preach according to engagement. He came into the church preceded by Dr Brown ; and on his entrance the congregation looked at him with great eagerness. He had on a gown and cassock ; was pale, thin, and study-worn, and never had so interesting an appearance ; indeed, there seemed something angelic or heavenly in his look. Dr Brown went into the pulpit with him, and began public worship in his usual way, with praise and prayer, and reading a portion of Scripture ; and when he had done so, he left the pulpit. Robert then rose ; and, after shortly engaging in prayer, read his text, and proceeded in the delivery of his discourse, with a firm voice and a steady look, calm and collected. The first head he delivered with ease and readiness ; but immediately after announcing the 334 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. second head, he hesitated — paused momentarily— tried to go on — and stopped ! For a moment he looked expressively to me, seated directly before him in the back seat below, and I can never forget his look. He tried once more to go on, and again stopped. He then made a decided stand in an attitude of determined recollection, as if he had been thinking over the discourse entirely alone ; and thus, after a short pause, during which he retained perfect self-pos- session, so that the audience never seemed to lose confi- dence in him, nor to be in the least distress, he recalled the sentence which had escaped him, and went on, from that to the end, calmly and collectedly as before. This, all things considered — the sermon being old-written and hastily committed to memory — the exhaustion of his strength — the first time of his preaching in public — the largeness and intelligence of his audience — not to mention the excite- ment produced by the recent publication of his poem — I may be allowed to say, I always regard as one of the most remarkable instances of his self-possession. His delivery of the sermon was natural and easy, not loud, but distinct and well heard ; calm, grave, earnest, feeling, mild, dignified, and impressive, accompanied with graceful gesture, and with striking expressiveness of looks. He arrested deeply the attention of the audience, and com- manded great stillness. On the dismissal of the congregation, having retired to Dr Brown's house, I followed him, to see how he felt himself after preaching ; and as I was going out of the church, the late Dr Belfrage, Slateford, who had been one of his audi- tors, said to me, in reference to the stop which he made in delivering his sermon, "Was there ever such self-possession? v THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLGK. 335 In the house, he was introduced by Dr Brown to Dr Bel- frage ; and this benevolent gentleman and skilful physician, after conversing with him for some time, told him kindly that, from what he had seen of him in the pulpit, and from what he saw of him in conversation, he was weaker and in a worse state of health than he himself seemed to be aware, and invited him to go and stay at his house a week or two for the benefit of his health. Considering the Doctor's advice judicious, Robert gratefully accepted his kind invitation, and that day, or the next, went out with him to Slateford — a small village, pleasantly situated near the foot of the Pentland Hills, three miles west from Edinburgh. While there, he was carefully directed by Dr Belfrage in regard to the diet, exercise, and medicine proper for the recovery of his health and strength ; but, alas ! as will be seen, without success. On Sabbath, the 6th of May, he preached at Slateford for Dr Belfrage ; delivering in the forenoon the same sermon that he had given in Dr Brown's church the preceding Thursday ; and, in the afternoon, his sermon on Mat. v. 8, mentioned above. Two days afterwards, he wrote to his father the following letter, respecting himself and his poem : — " Slateford, May 8, 1824. " Dear Father — On Wednesday David and I, along with several others, were licensed to preach the gospel. It was not without much hesitation that I passed from among the laity into the sacred order; but I am now perfectly satisfied with the step I have taken. Next day after being licensed, which was the fast-day in Edinburgh, I preached in the forenoon in the Rev. John Brown's church, Rose Street ; the house is 336 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. large, and was very full ; I, however, got upon the whole decently through with the service. Dr Belfrage of Slate- ford, where I now write, was present, as he was to preach in the afternoon, and I was fortunate enough to engage his friendship so much that I was compelled to promise to spend a week or two with him. I preached here on Sabbath both parts of the day. I the more willingly accepted this invita- tion, both because it was so disinterested and hind, and because my health required some repose. With the wordy anxieties and fatigues of the winter, I am considerably exhausted, but I have here every thing that can conduce to re-invigoration — a most delightful house, surrounded with the most exquisite scenery ; Dr Belfrage the kindest man in the world, and a most enlightened spirit ; his son, a fine clever young fellow; and a horse to ride on as much as I please every day. I shall, therefore, remain here a week or two ; perhaps it may be nearly the end of May before I be home. David was to preach last Sabbath for the Rev. Thomas Brown, Dalkeith. I have not yet heard how he got through, but I have no doubt all would be well. " My poem is attracting much attention in Edinburgh, and round about, and is selling, upon the whole, well ; it has been noticed and quoted by several papers, both in London and Edinburgh, and their remarks have been very laudatory. * * * Do not read this to any body : I wish to let you know what is said about it, but I do not wish you to say to any person that I have said so. Mr Brown of Rose Street, of whom you have often heard me speak very highly, has been very active in bringing it into notice. He pronounced his opinion of it fearlessly, as soon as he read it, and frequently recommended it to all his friends ; I, however, still expect THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 337 much severity from several of the critics ; but I am as much at ease as if there were not a critic in the world. " Remember me to John and his family, Margaret, Janet Young, Mrs Gilmour, my uncle's family, and so on. If any thing should detain me longer in this quarter than I expect, you will be informed. — I am, &c. " R. Pollok." * On Sabbath the 13th of May, in the afternoon, Robert preached again for Dr Belfrage, when he delivered his sermon on Psalm lxxii. 17, and this was his last appearance in the pulpit. He preached therefore, it will be observed, only four times altogether, once in Edinburgh and thrice at Slateford ; and delivered on these occasions only three different discourses. It is an interesting coincidence, and seems worthy of notice, that the last sermon he wrote was also the last that he preached. In the end of May, instead of going home, as he intended in the beginning of the month, he wrote to his father the fol- lowing characteristic letter, which, besides assigning his rea- son for prolonging his stay at Slateford, communicates some information respecting his poem, and shows his usual interest in his friends at home: — " Slateford, May 27, 1827. " Dear Father — That you do not see me instead of this letter, * The original MS. of this letter is in the possession of George Johnston, Esq., factor to the Earl of Eglinton, who kindly transmitted it to be copied for insertion here. 2F 338 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. ascribe solely to the necessity of circumstances. I am still at Slateford ; my health is improving ; but Dr Belfrage insists that two or three weeks more of medical treatment are neces- sary, and he refuses to let me leave him. I am, therefore, a prisoner, but it is in a paradise, for every thing here looks as if our world had never fallen. " My poem continues to draw attention : several reviews of it have appeared. One London paper has very graciously placed me in the good company of Dante and Milton. Some are a little severe, but none have ventured to condemn. I enjoy the remarks very much, and am blessed with the utmost repose of mind. Private opinion of the poem, in this quarter, is very high; and its sale is going on well. Blackwood's face is shining considerably — the best sign of a bookseller. Solely on the work's account, I have been invited by some individuals of high standing in society, and am, upon the whole, prosperous in all my affairs. " I know nothing of David, except that he preached lately in Dr Jamieson's, Edinburgh. I suppose he will be in the west soon. " I request of you as a particular favour, that you will write to me the same day you receive this, and let me hear if you are all well. Remember me to all my friends. Was John well forward with his labour this spring ? Tell Mar- garet and Mrs Gilmour that I weary much to see them. John and Janet Young do not forget me, I hope. You may salute little Robert and David in my name. " Now be sure you write directly — do not put off a day. I am extremely anxious to hear from you. Address to me THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 339 at the Rev. Dr Belfrage's, Slateford, near Edinburgh. — I am yours, &c. " R. Pollok." In the beginning of June, Robert received, from the United Associate Synod, preaching appointments for five months, in the Presbytery of Edinburgh/ and in the Presbytery of Glas- gow ; but was not permitted, in the providence of God, to fulfil any of them. If his health was really improving, as he thought it was, when he wrote to his father in the end of May, the improve- ment of it was of very short continuance. Early in June, notwithstanding his strict attention to the course of medical treatment prescribed to him by Dr Belfrage, he took sud- denly ill, and continued so for two or three weeks. When this took place, Dr Belfrage and his son, Mr Henry, a student of medicine, who had kindly and assiduously attended to him night and day, not contented with their own skill, procured for him, through friendship, the attendance of some of the most eminent physicians in Edinburgh ; but, notwithstanding all that could be done for him, he became daily weaker and weaker, till near the end of June, when he began, under their treatment, to improve a little in strength. In the beginning of July, having received intelligence that a report had reached his father of his life being in imminent danger, he wrote to him the following letter, which, in as far as respects his health, is the most valuable and interesting one that he ever wrote : — 340 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " Slateford, July 4, 1827. " Dear Father — The report, which has reached you concern- ing my health, is far from being 1 true in its utmost extent. That I have been ill is certain ; but that my life has been in imminent danger, is a thing that never occurred either to myself or my medical friends. I am blameable in not writ- ing to you, more particularly, sooner. But I have this excuse, that for some weeks past I have been unable to write ; and, although it is more than a week since I began to recover, I wished to wait till I might be able to give you a very satisfactory account. " It is impossible, in a single letter, to give you a detail either of the circumstances from which my sickness arose, or of the manner in which I have been affected, or of the means which have been used for my recovery. I may shortly say, that the medical friends in the west country, on whom I had been accustomed to rely somewhat, had totally misunderstood my complaints. The consequence was, that nothing was ever done that had any tendency to remove them. I was as unfortunate with the surgeon whom I consulted in Dunferm- line, a week or two before the new-year ; * for about that time I felt my health begin to yield a little. Of the cause why I did not consult more skilful men, you need not be told. I was then obscure and unknown, and had no influence to bring me into such presence. Accordingly, as my labour in- creased in the spring months, so did my complaints ; first, almost total indigestion ; then, loss of appetite ; and then, or rather simultaneous with these, a quick, high, and feverish * 1827. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 341 pulse : so that, when I took license in the beginning 1 of May, I was utterly worn out, in a state of high fever, and just ready to fall into the hands of the physicians. " You will be ready to ask why I did not sooner yield to the disease, and give up all labour. This was quite impos- sible. From home, and during spring without money and without friend that could in the slightest degree assist me, the only hope of securing that medical assistance, and other comforts which I felt I needed, and at the same time of de- livering my mind from the infinite anxiety which should have oppressed it, if I had gone to a sick-bed with the works and studies of many years lying about me, blasted in their very birth — my only hope, I say, [of doing this,] remained in finishing my publication and taking license. Accordingly, in one day, my mind felt itself in perfect repose ; and in the course of a few weeks, my reputation gave me far more power over all that I need of than any quantity of money could have done. " I have been constantly attended by Dr Abercrombie, the first physician in Edinburgh. I have also been attended by Drs Scott and Mackintosh, and other [medical] men of first eminence from Edinburgh ; and especially I have been, night and day, watched by Dr Belfrage and his son — have received all my medicine from their own hands, and every symptom has been remarked as soon as felt. From all quar- ters enquiries have come. Cordials and compliments have been sent me in boundless number ; and, especially, one gen- tleman's family in the immediate neighbourhood seems to have searched for and invented, night and day, whatever 342 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. might be favourable to my health, or might soothe me while I suffered.* " I leave you to make your own reflections On God's infi- nite mercy to me in this case. I have been afflicted, I hope, much for my good, and the good of my friends ; but I have not been a moment without the smile of his blessed counte- nance : he has, indeed, ' staid his rough wind in the day of the east wind,' and * in wrath he has remembered me in the multitude of his mercies.' " Till within eight days, notwithstanding all that had been done in my favour, the appetite was still nothing, the inters nal pains were little diminished, the pulse was obstinately feverish, and I went daily down in appearance and strength. But the cooling food and the cooling medicine have ulti- mately prevailed ; the powers of nature are reviving, my appetite has returned, and I am able to ride out two hours a-day. The writing of this long letter, which I have done, or shall do all at once, is an obvious proof that I am not sick. " I have not time to tell you of the numerous attentions which I have received from literary men. What has grati- fied me most is the very striking attention which I have lately received from the venerable Mr Mackenzie, aged eighty- four, author of ' The Man of Feeling/ I felt his attention to be as if some literary patriarch had risen from the grave, to bless me and do me honour. " Now, my dear father, I know Mrs ■■ and other * This was the family of Alexander Monro, M.D., Esq. of Craiglockhart. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 343 women will have strange sentimental forebodings about my health, and they will whisper, and peep, and mutter ; but give no heed to them. I have strong faith that God will yet add many years to my life. What ! did he not create me ? — and can he not now, as he has begun to do, make me well, and keep me well ? < He killeth and maketh alive, he bringeth down to the grave and bringeth up ;' he bringeth whom he will into honour, and turneth whom he will into disgrace. And be assured, that all such groundless prophesyings and whisperings come from the devil, and they often effect what he intends, by affecting the spirit of the patient ; and thus one is cut off that might have been hurtful to his kingdom. As for myself, any whispering of that kind reaching my ear would greatly strengthen the principle of life within me. I should cry to God that I might live for the very purpose of proving Satan once more to be, what he has always been, the father of lies. That these whisperings come from the devil, we have sufficient proof ; because every thing suggested by the Divine [Spirit,] or the word of God, may be publicly declared to all the world — to the wise and foolish, to the sick and the whole ; but those who are under Satanic influence, whisper, and peep, and mutter, in imitation, I suppose, of that sad and infernal music which the devil is doomed to hear, day and night, in his place of woe. Take no notice, therefore, of whatever you may see of this kind. I am too well acquainted with Satan to be so wheedled out of my life. " R. POLLOK. " I have received L.20 from Blackwood, which has re- 344 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. lieved my mind from present anxiety. Write to me in a day or two, and I will answer your letter immediately ; tell me the news." In the end of June and the beginning' of July, when Robert was recovering from his illness, I paid him several visits at Slateford ; and on one of them, when I asked him particu- larly about his health, he said, " My mind has just become too vigorous for my body, and has worn it out. Tf my body would bear it, I could at this moment write more rapidly and energetically than ever I did in my life. I would take in hand just now to dictate, in two hours, a sermon of ordinary length, on the words of our Saviour to Peter, in John xiii* 7, " What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." In the beginning of July, when he had partially recovered his strength, it was proposed by Dr Belfrage, with the con- currence of some of his medical friends, that he should go to Italy to pass the winter ; and it was agreed that, as soon as he was able, he should take a sail to Aberdeen, as a voyage of experiment, to try his ability for going to the Continent. In the middle of the same month he wrote the following letter to his father, giving an account of his health, stating when he intended to make this experiment, and communicating some further information respecting his poem i — « Slateford, July 16, 1827. " Dear Father — I thank God that I am able to inform you THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. # 345 that my health advances steadily, and with much more ra- pidity than I could possibly have expected. It is only about three weeks since I began to discern that my constitu- tion, under the blessing of a kind and infinitely merciful Providence, had begun to master the disease.* My appe- tite is now excellent. I eat more in one day than I did in a week when I came to Slateford. I have been in Edin- burgh almost every day for the last week — on horseback I mean, for walking in this weather would, on my part, be absolute insanity. " On Wednesday first I intend to sail for Aberdeen, where I shall likely remain for a few days. Afterwards, I intend to coast round to Dundee, sail up the Tay to Perth, where I shall likely remain for some time ; from thence I intend to come straight to Edinburgh, stay a few days with Dr Belfrage, take the Lanark coach, see the falls of Clyde, come to Glasgow, and thence to Moorhouse, whose very name sounds sacredly in my ear. This is what I intend, under the Providence which directeth all. I should have willingly enough come west just now, and taken sailing by the western Highlands, but I am not known in these quarters; whereas, over all the district which I have mentioned, I have numerous invitations from gentlemen of most substantial * This is the first time that, in speaking of his health in his letters, he calls his complaint " the disease ; " but what it was he has not said ; nor did Dr Belfrage, or any of his other medical attendants, so far as I know, ever give it a name; but from its origin and symptoms, there is no doubt that it was liver-complaint with affection in the windpipe, if not in the lungs. Dr Belfrage told me in the beginning of July, that he and his medical friends had not then ascertained whether his lungs were affected or not, and I never heard him speak on the subject again. 346 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. standing, so that I shall be at little expense, except for boats and coaches. You see the exceeding great advantage of this. If I continue well, you need expect no letter till I am nearly home ; but depend upon it, you shall have the most accurate account of my health if there be any need. Be alarmed by nothing, unless it come sanctioned by my own authority. I hope you will let my friends in the west know of my recovery; tell them that I have sailed out into the German ocean. " I have been for many weeks five shillings a- week at an. average for postages,* but I shall now be delivered. " With this you will receive a London ' Review/ contain- ing a critique on my poem. The gentleman who wrote it, whomsoever he may be, is deficient in one or two of the great powers of mind ; but, upon the whole, the review is a good one — I mean as reviews go now-a-days, since the death of Dr Samuel Johnson, who was the only reviewer that ever appeared in this country with powers equal to the great authors whom he reviewed, and who, on that very account, was the only man that could do his subject justice. The critic accuses me, several times, of borrowing. This is abso- lute nonsense. I am conscious that I did not borrow a thought from any poet, dead or alive, in the whole of ' The Course of Time.' Likenesses, here and there, occur among all poets ; and when it so happens, the critic always charges the author with imitation. This is one of the evils of authorship, which we know before we publish ; and we submit to it with cheer- * For letters, chiefly from strangers, congratulating him on the merit of his poem, and condoling with him on the ill state of his health ; but none of the letters have been preserved. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 347 fulness. Soon after Milton published his immortal work, a critic wrote a long book, in which he undertook to prove that every fine passage in Milton was borrowed. " I have this morning read Jean's letter with great pleasure. " Since I wrote to you last, I had a personal visit from Mr Henry Mackenzie, of whom I spoke in my last letter. He is an exceedingly cheerful old man. " David will be home, probably about the same time as this parcel ; but you must take notice, that this brings you intel- ligence six days later than he can bring, as I have not seen him during that time, and my health has since very mate- rially improved. " I hope we shall all make a wise improvement of the dis- pensation of Providence to me at this time. I trust it will always put us in mind of our frailty, of our utter dependence ; so that we may walk humbly before God with fear and trem- bling all the days of our lives. At the same time, always remembering the infinite mercies by which my soul and body have been sustained, let us, at morning, and evening, and mid-day, bless and magnify His name who is our hope and salvation. If we are in adversity, let us ever be able to say, 'It is good for us that we are afflicted;' if we are in pro- sperity, may it be the constant music of our souls, ' Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory.' •" I hope you will not lend the Review out of the family : it would look like vanity. I expect^ that none of you will lend the copies of my poem which I sent you : let those who are curious either buy or want. — Yours, &c. « R. PoLLOK." 34:8 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. On Wednesday, the 1 8th of July, he sailed for Aberdeen ; and arrived there the same day about six o'clock in the even- ing. The following letter,* which he wrote to Dr Belfrage three days after his arrival, will show how he thought he had stood the voyage to that town, and how he was accom- modated in it :-r- " Aberdeen, Saturday Evening. " My Dear Friend — I arrived safely at the New Inn, Aber- deen, about half-past six o'clock [on] Wednesday evening. On looking at Aberdeen I saw that it was a town of some miles of circumference; where to find Mr Angus j was hard to say. I was too needful of refreshment to hesitate. In five minutes I had tea before me — retired immediately [after it] to my bed-room, and after an hour and a half's repose, found myself, in every respect, fresher than when I left the Rev. Mr Brown's in the morning. By this time the evening had become damp. In the mean time I inclosed your letter in a note of my own for Mr Angus, stating that I should certainly have de[livered] your letter personally, but that the want of his address, as well as the fatigue of the long sail, had com*- pelled me to take the first inn. Soon after, I received a most polite card informing me that Mr Angus would wait on me next morning at half-past eight o'clock, when I should be able to accompany him to breakfast. * For this and other two letters to Dr Belfrage, I am indebted to the kindness of Miss Grindlay, his sister-in-law, who, on my application to her through the medium of a common friend, obligingly transmitted them to me for insertion. f The Rev. Henry Angus, minister of one of the United Secession con- gregations in Aberdeen, to whom he had received from Dr Belfrage, on leaving Slateford, a letter of introduction. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 349 " I had not conversed an hour with Mr Angus when I could easily see that he possessed almost every quality that one could wish in a friend. He soon procured me exquisite lodgings, covenanting with me, at the same time, that I should dine and drink tea with him every day. " Such is the state of affairs. But what, after all, is Aber- deen for an invalid? It has no shore within five or six miles ; and how is an invalid to get so far ? I am exquisitely lodged, it is true, but in the heart of a smoky town. The banks of the Dee and the Don are the only rides that can possibly be endured. But before I can reach either, I must drive through a mile and a half of town. I have determined, if it be the will of Providence, to leave this lean, barren coun- try on Wednesday first, at six o'clock in the morning. I have several invitations from gentlemen in Perthshire ; two of which I received on the quay at Newhaven, just as I was going into the boat. But if I do take this route, I should necessarily be led into much company — more, I am afraid, than I should yet be able to stand. I am, therefore, just hesitating whether to take my passage straight to Edinburgh, and to go thence to some of the western coasts, where I have lived before, and where I could still live comfortably, and spend less money in a week than I do in [a] day here. I am, however, very fond to accept of my invitations in Perthshire. I should like to have your advice. If, on receiving this, you think a letter can reach me before Tuesday evening, I beg of you to write immediately ; and do not wait on reasoning ; be absolute in your commands, and they shall be obeyed. " My mind has not been an hour from Slateford since I 350 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. left — the garden, the banks of the river, and so on. Remem- ber me kindly to your family, [and] to Mrs Monro and her daughters. — My dear friend, yours, with the greatest affec- tion and esteem, " R. POLLOK. " My address— Mrs Allan's, 64, Union Street, Aberdeen." Whether Dr Belfrage wrote, advising him to continue his stay at Aberdeen beyond the time at which he had " deter mined" to leave it, does not appear ; but instead of leaving it then, he prolonged his stay till the beginning of next month, when he wrote the following letter to Dr Belfrage, giving an account of the state of his health, and showing how he was passing his time : — " August 2, 1827. " Rev. and Dear Sir — I feel I have, in some measure, in- jured you, in being so long of telling you where and how I am : I am still in Aberdeen. I find the air here so conducive to the restoration of my health, that I am reluctant to leave the place. The fever has entirely left me. One morning, after breakfast, about eight days ago, I took a walk down to the quay. The tide was ebb, there was a strong wind, and the sea-air was remarkably strong. Before I got home I was seized with violent vomiting ; and continued, the whole day, to cough and throw, very much like a child in the last stage of the chin-cough. Indeed, the whole first week I re- sembled a child in the chin-cough ; and, I believe, rather lost THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 351 than gained strength. I continued the farinaceous diet till the stomach refused to be any longer contented with it. * * * I now take a beef-steak between twelve and one, and find myself perfectly ready for dinner at half-past three, or four o'clock. At breakfast, tea, and supper, all of which I eat with excellent appetite, I take no animal food. " I have been thirty miles up the Dee ; and on Monday, Mr [William] Swan of Dunfermline, who is here on business, intends to proceed forty miles up that river — as far as Bala- ter. He has pressed me to go with him; we shall likely spend four or five days in that quarter. The air on the Dee is delightfully mild — quite different from the piercing winds of Aberdeen ; so mild is it, that almost all the wives and families of the gentlemen in Aberdeen are scattered, during summer, in the numberless cottages up and down its banks. " After arriving here, I soon found my wardrobe miser- ably deficient. The few articles which I brought with me, were sometimes almost all in requisition in a single day, so that I have been obliged to add very considerably to this article. My money ebbs fast ; but I think I have still as much as shall enable me to spend ten days or a fortnight here, and carry me rapidly through Perthshire, where I shall make only a few calls, and [then] return, by Dunferm- line, to Slateford. " Mr Angus continues his attention. I have found an in- valuable companion in Mr Scott, brother to my landlady ; he is brother also to Mrs Balmer of Berwick.* I have never * This lady is the wife of the Rev. Dr Robert Balmer, minister of the first United Secession congregation in Berwick-on-Tweed, and one of the Professors of Theology to the United Secession Church. 352 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. met a young gentleman of higher accomplishments. He has accompanied me on almost all my rides ; and with him I have seen every thing worth seeing in Aberdeen, and for many miles around. He has also been the means of saving me a great deal of money, from his intimate acquaintance with the place. % My invitations multiply every day ; and I am abso- lutely astonished at the kindness and attention with which I am every where treated. I never go out to breakfast ; and I have not been one night out of my lodgings after eight o'clock since I left Slateford. " I have a strong desire to go to Italy during winter ; if any thing should fall in your way that may forward my wishes in this scheme, if you would take notice of it, you would lay me, if possible, under a still greater debt of gratitude. " I was glad that Mrs Robertson saw you so late as last Sabbath, and that you and the family are well. Mrs Robert- son's arrival is a great addition to my happiness. Kindest love to Mrs and Miss Grindlay, to Mr Belfrage, and to Mrs Monro and her daughters. " R. POLLOK. " I am extremely anxious to hear from you ; direct as for- merly, Mrs Allan's, 64, Union Street, Aberdeen." In a day or two after writing the above, he left Aberdeen, and returned by sea direct to Edinburgh ; and immediately on his arrival there, he wrote the following letter to his father, assigning his reason for returning from Aberdeen so quickly, and stating how he thought his visit to it had affected his constitution :— * THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. 353 " Rev. John Brown's, Rose Street, " Edinburgh, Aug. 7, 1827. " Dear Father — If the day is fine you may expect me home on Friday or Saturday first — Saturday is most likely. I shall make my yisit to Moorhouse only, so that, if any of my friends wish to see me, they must see me there. I wish you to make no invitations ; if you see any of my west country friends, you may let them know merely that, if it be the will of Providence, I shall he with you most of next [week,] at least till Thursday or Friday. " I had been frequently meditating- for two weeks, while I was in Aberdeen, about the means of getting to Italy during winter. I wrote to Dr Belfrage on the subject ; and I was astonished to receive a letter next morning, informing me that I. must return to Edinburgh immediately, as he had, with the co-operation of Sir John Sinclair and other gentle- men,* completed arrangements j" for my going to Florence * One of whom was the Rev. John Brown, who, from the time that Ro- bert preached to his congregation, took a deep and an active interest in his welfare. f In making these " arrangements," which were chiefly the raising of a fund for defraying his expenses, Sir John Sinclair took so active a part as to issue a printed circular among his friends to excite their interest in Robert's favour. A copy of this circular, with a few omissions, is inserted here. " Hints respecting a Poem recently Published, written by Robert Pollok, A.M., entitled ' The Course of Time.' — With a short Account of the Author, and Specimens of his Work. — By the Right Honourable Sir John Sinclair, Bart. — " By mere chance I heard that a work of great merit had been recently published by a young poet, (Mr Robert Pollok,) entitled, ' The Course of Time.' As I think it a duty incumbent upon those who are anxious to promote the literature of a country, to encourage talent whenever it appears, I lost no time in purchasing the work, and was delighted to find 2g 354 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. or Pisa during winter. This is the cause of my offering* you so short a visit, and also for confining the whole of that short time to Moorhouse. " My constitution has been wonderfully renovated by my visit to Aberdeen. " I think it is not likely that I can reach home before Saturday ; but, if God so will, Saturday forenoon. " R. PoLLOK ." that it displayed great marks of original genius. The conception is grand, the execution masterly, and on the whole, it seemed to me the most extra- ordinary production that had appeared for some time, more especially as connected with religious subjects. I was thence induced to enquire into Mr Pollok's history, of which I learned, from respectable authority, the following particulars : " [Here the circular states when and where Mr Pollok was born, at what University he studied, when his poem was published, and when he was licensed to preach, and then proceeds as follows :] " His health, however, had been so much impaired by his excessive exertions in preparing his poem for the press, and carrying on its printing, that, after a few trials, he has been under the necessity of relinquishing the labours of his profession ; and being threatened with complaints, which, in the opinion of some eminent physicians, render residence in a milder climate the most probable means of restoring his health, it has become indispensably necessary for him to repair to the Continent without delay. " The work has been fully as successful as, from its peculiar nature, could have been anticipated, the first edition having been already nearly disposed of. It has been favourably reviewed in various periodical publi- cations ; and, indeed, its transcendent beauties cannot be questioned by those who will take the trouble of a perusal. " It is difficult to give a just idea of such a poem by extracts; but the following passages will sufficiently prove that Mr Pollok's powers as a poet are of the highest order: " [These passages, which it is unnecessary to insert here, are headed in the circular as follows :~] "1. Character of Lord Byron, Abridged, Book 4, vol. i.* p. 184. — 2. Description of England and Scotland. Book 5, vol. i. p. 222. — 3. Evening Hymn in Paradise, Abridged. Book 6, vol. ii. p. 42." * The first edition of the poem was published in two volumes. THE LIFE OF KOBERT POLLOK. 355 Notwithstanding" he was a great deal worse on his return from his visit to Aberdeen than when he set out on it, as the handwriting of this letter painfully testifies, the well-meant design of sending him to Italy was adhered to ; and Robert himself used his characteristic expedition to hasten its ac- complishment. On Thursday, the 9th of August, he left Edinburgh by coach ; and that day, weak as he was, went to Glasgow, where he passed the night at an inn. Next morning he proceeded on his journey by a post-chaise. His coming home at this time, was an eyent of unusual and peculiarly affecting interest to the whole family at Moor- house. He had been longer away than ever he had been at one time before in all his life, having been absent for ten months ; and in that period he had accomplished two things of no ordinary interest in his history — publishing " The Course of Time " and receiving license to preach the gospel. In that same time too, he had been taken very ill, so that his life had been thought in imminent danger. Above all, he was still unwell, and was, after a stay of only a few days, to go away, for the recovery of his health, to a foreign land, from which it was feared he should not return. The joy and gladness at the thought of seeing him at Moorhouse, and the hope that he might yet be well, to be there often and long, were clouded and overshadowed by foreboding fears that this was to be his last visit to the home of his fathers. From the hour that his letter to his father arrived, his coming was anxiously waited for by all his friends at Moor- house ; and, as it was thought probable that he might reach home on the first of the two days mentioned in it, when- 356 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. ever Friday the 10th of the month came, we began to look out for him. About mid-day, some one, more watchful than the rest, said, " There is a chaise : that will be Robert now;" and almost as soon as the words were uttered, the chaise came up with him to the door ; all in the house, old and young, running out, and gathering about it, eager to see him. Scarcely had we felt the first bound of joy at his arrival, when his look went to our heart with a pang. After asking for us all in his usual way, he walked into the room, and sat down beside " the old table at which" he <' used to write;" and, oh ! how affecting was it to see the man who had, in his ordinary health, only thirteen months before, finished there " The Course of Time," return so weak in little more than five months after its publication. Next day, his sister Mrs Gilmour having come to see him ? he told her that he wished her to go with him to Italy ; and to this she consented, but at the same time expressed a hope that he would yet be dissuaded from going to it, either by his friends at home, or by Dr Belfrage at Slateford. On Sabbath morning, several members of the family spoke of staying at home with him ; but he said he wished them all to go to church as usual, except his father, who alone remained with him. In the course of the day, he tried to dissuade him from going to Italy, and asked him if he would not be better, since he was so weak, just to stay at Moorhouse ; but when he did so, Robert was much grieved, or, to use his father's words, " he grew vexed," and said to him, " Would you not like to see me well ? " After that, no more was said on the subject. On Monday he wrote the following curious document, which THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 357 it has been thought proper to insert here, as strongly evin- cing his affection for his father, and his solicitude about his comfort : — " Trust-deed to be held in the hands of David Pollok, preacher of the gospel, for and on account of Robert Pollok, also preacher of the gospel — Aug. 13, 1827. " 1. I, Robert Pollok, give you, my dear father, John Pollok, farmer, Moorhouse, Eaglesham, as a small token of my gratitude, the sum of five pounds sterling, to be appro- priated for the sole and only purpose of procuring you a man-servant from the above date till Martinmas coming next. " 2. The servant shall be of such ability of body, and of such activity and trust-worthiness of soul, as shall qualify him for taking your butter and milk to Glasgow, and going wherever you may think fit to send him with your horse and cart during the above specified hirelingship. " 3. The servant shall not be of Highland descent. " 4. The said servant shall, at each returning gang of milk, churn one of the churns. " 5. You, my dear father, are earnestly requested by me your son, from this date till the Martinmas afore-mentioned, not to go off the farm with any horse and cart whatever ; but to take good long sleeps nightly, and as much ease through the day as may be consistent with your bodily and spiritual welfare. " 6. I hereby appoint the above-mentioned David Pol- lok, my most affectionate brother and friend — to whom I could intrust a world if I had it — to hold this trust-deed ; 358 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. to make inspection when he pleases, that he may know how these above-written items are attended to ; and may report to me as he shall in good truth and honesty find it. " Witness my own hand, " R. POLLOK. " Jean Pollok, witness. " Marion M. Campbell, witness." On Monday evening he told his father, who was going to Glasgow next day, to order a post-chaise to come to Moor- house the day following to take him and Mrs Gilmour into town ; and his father, contrary both to his judgment and his feelings, ordered one, which was, perhaps, the only thing that he ever did for him that it grieved him to do. On Tuesday, while conversing with me, he told me that a second edition of " The Course of Time" would soon be called for ; and that he would appoint me to superintend it. " But," said he, " I will appoint you by letter, that you may have the authority of my handwriting to show for correcting it." Early next day he wrote the following letter to a much- esteemed friend of his, Miss Mary Mather, South Moorhouse, to enable her to decide a matter of great interest to herself and her relations, in which she had asked his advice — being doubtful whether to go to America along with her father and mother, or stay behind them : — " Moorhouse, August 15, 1827. " My Dear and Long-beloved Friend — As I am extremely well this morning,* and have a little time on hand before the * Alas'! he only thought so ; he was " extremely" ill, as the handwriting jand diction of this very letter testify, through out. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 359 chaise shall arrive here for me, I think it my duty to say a word or two to you. I do not mean to advise, but mere- ly to say that your disadvantages in America must be very [great.] I do not mean to speak of the bad effects which its extremely changeable climate might have on your constitution. At Philadelphia, a city very near Mr Gil- mour's, they have sometimes all temperatures in twentyrfour hours. I dislike the lean food that you would find offered to your soul in these regions, which, I can positively say, are ill supplied with { the bread ' of life ' which came down from heaven.' I would further say, that you need not fear to stay behind your earthly relations. The bread and water of the child of God are sure. The hairs of your head are num- bered. And just think of this expression : You are dear to him as the apple of his eye. ' I will never leave thee nor forsake thee,' says the great God of infinite love, wisdom, mercy, and power. Christ, our blessed Lord and Master, is * a friend that sticketh closer than a brother,' and hath told us to < take no' anxious 'thought for to-morrow;' but he says also, that we must sometimes leave father and mother, sister and brother, on his account. Look how he supported his faithful followers while on earth, and think how he has supported all his children before and since. " I can say experimentally, that when I arrived in Edin- burgh, [in the end of 1826,] I had only a shilling to pay [with] for [the carriage of] my trunk — knew no man ; but my trust was in God, my hope in the rock of my salvation, and he has [been] pleased to prosper me far above all my hopes. I would not give my literary property for £3000. iHe did afflict me a little; but, indeed, I scarcely knew if inr- 360 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. deed I was afflicted, so many mercies were poured around me. ' The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. Amen.' « R. Pollok."* When he had finished this letter, which was the last that he wrote at Moorhouse, he took his brother John and me into the room by ourselves, and enjoined us, if he did not return from Italy, to burn all his manuscripts. I said it would be a pity to burn them all, as some of them were worth preserving". He then authorized me to make a selection ; and on this I have acted in the construction of the present work. * For this letter I am indebted to the kindness of the lady to whom it is addressed, now Mrs James Steven, Dunlop, in Ayrshire. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 361 CHAPTER XIII. On Wednesday tlie 15th of August, about mid-day, Robert, surrounded by all his relations, went out of his father's house, to take his departure, with the purpose of proceeding to Italy to pass the winter. On going out, after bidding me to accompany him in the chaise to Clarkston, where he was to take in his sister, Mrs Gilmour, he said to his father in a low tone of voice, " Father, come forward a short way with me, I will not shake hands with any of them but you." He then looked round with deep affection on the rest of his relations, standing in sadness about him, and said, " Farewell with you all;" and then took his seat beside me in the chaise, bidding the driver go on, and left Moorhouse, " whose very name sounded sacredly in his ear/' never to see it again. On proceeding about a quarter of a mile, to a steep place on the road called the Topped Hill's Brae, he bade the driver stop, and said to his father, " Father, you will not go down the brae ; I will shake hands with you here, and let you turn." He then shook hands with him, gazing on him with great filial affection, as he said, " Farewell, father ! " and parted with him for the last time. All the way from this to Clarkston, a distance of five miles, though extremely weak, he was in good spirits, and talked to me with his usual liveliness of his intended voyage to Italy, of the time which he thought, if all went well, he might stay 2h 362 . THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. in that country, and of the places there which he expected to see. In particular, he spoke with great enthusiasm of his projected " Review of Literature," and told me it was the only study that he would pursue in Italy. He said he intended, during his stay there, to digest and arrange the materials which he had already prepared for it — collect more draw out and fill up a complete outline of the work ; and when he had done that, he meant, he said, looking at me, and speaking with peculiar delight, " to come home to write it.'' Gn his arrival at Clarkston, five miles from Glasgow, I left the chaise, and his sister, Mrs Gilmour, who was waiting there in readiness to go along with him, took her seat in it beside him. When she had done so, I stooped into it, looking in his face, and said, with unutterable sorrow, " We never had a parting like this before ! " to which he answered, with a soothing affectionate smile, " No, but we will meet again." He then shook hands with me, and bade me farewell in his usual easy brotherly way, and we parted — parted at two o'clock in the afternoon of the 15th of August, after having been little separated from each other for nearly twenty-nine years, never to meet again in this world. In less than an hour after parting with me at Clarkston, he arrived in Glasgow ; and he passed the night in the Wheat Sheaf Inn, Clyde Terrace. Having ordered tea to be ready at five o'clock, and bespoke beds for himself and Mrs Gil- mour for the night, he went out with her to buy some articles which he needed for his journey. On his return, having partaken of this refreshment, he seemed a good deal revived ; but had soon after to betake himself to bed. In the evening, a deputation of the students of the United Secession Divinity Hall presented to him, as their late fellow- THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOE. 363 student, a letter of congratulation, condolence, and sympathy, written by appointment the day before. The Rev. Dr David King, who was one of its number, has given an account of it in his letter to me of " Hall recollections" of him, part of which has been inserted above.- In introducing the account of it, he gives some interesting particulars respecting an interview which he had with Robert, on his way back from Aberdeen to Edinburgh, in the beginning of August. The whole is as follows : — " Your brother's fifth or last session at the Hall was my third. When I was leaving my native town, Montrose, to attend my fourth session, I unexpectedly met with him in the steam-vessel in which he had come from Aberdeen, and was proceeding to Leith. By that time he had been licensed to preach the gospel, and had preached, I believe, on several occasions ; by that time also his ' Course of Time ' had been published, and had been received with very marked and general favour. When I descried him in the steamer, I was struck with his appearance. The late production of his pen had excited high expectations of his future career ; and, as I had not heard of his being ill, I first learned the precariousness of these prospects by the emaciation and other attendants of con- sumption too apparent in his frame and countenance. He welcomed me on board very cordially, and, during the remainder of the voyage, talked with great cheerfulness and freedom on a diversity of subjects. The sale of his poem — its distinguishing qualities — the reviews of it which had appeared, were all frankly and leisurely discussed. He spoke with much feeling of Hall transactions, and particularly of his fellow- students ; and I was much pleased to notice that his remarks about students, with whom he had differed most frequently 364 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. in opinion, were of the kindest and most candid description. His future intentions were likewise a theme of conversation : after such a time he was to take appointments as a preacher ; on such and such subjects he was preparing to write; and while hearing of these premeditated undertakings, it was impossible not to contrast, with sad interest, his proved mental capacity for prosecuting magnificent designs, with the manifest cor- poreal threatenings of an early dissolution. " When we left the vessel, I lost sight of him amidst the crowd at the quay, but overtook him on Leith Walk. He was ascending its continuous steep with languid step. I went up to him and gave him my arm, on which he remarked to me, ' I have got quite exhausted with that long sail;' and added, i Did you observe that I had a great-coat over my arm ? ' I replied that I did. * Well,' he resumed, ' I found it so cumbrous that I have been obliged to leave it by the way/ Having accompanied him to the Rev. Dr Brown's house in Edinburgh, where he was to pass the night, I there parted from him. " As soon as the students were convened in Glasgow, I took the earliest opportunity of proposing to them, having become acquainted, in the manner which has been stated, with the affecting circumstances of the case, that a letter should be sent to Mr Robert Pollok, congratulating him on the merits and success of his poem, and expressing our sym- pathetic concern for his illness. The proposal was agreed to, not only without a dissenting voice, but with every indi- cation of enthusiastic unanimity. The writing of the letter fell to the individual who had been led to propose it ; and a deputation of our number were appointed to present it to him as he was passing the day after through Glasgow. When THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 365 it was intimated to him at the inn where he had put up, that a deputation waited on him from the United Secession Hall, we were told in reply, that he was not then receiving many visitants, but could not deny himself the pleasure of meeting" with such a deputation ; and if, therefore, we would step, meanwhile, into another apartment, he would, in a few minutes, see us in his bed-room. On entering it we found him in bed, and evidently much worse than when I last saw him. However, his spirits rose as he talked with us : with the honour which was done him, he seemed particularly gratified ; and, after reiterating his strong sense of the kind- ness of the Hall, he told us that he could not trust himself to write a reply, at the moment, to the letter which we had presented, but would assuredly acknowledge it in writing before many days elapsed. " He still spoke of his prospects and intentions, but not so confidently as when I last met with him ; and repeatedly, when he thought he had spoken too strongly, he subjoined the qualification, ' If I get better.' It was altogether a solemn interview. The return of the Hall season, and the circumstance of meeting in Glasgow as in former autumns, vividly recalled the energetic eloquence with which, twelve months before, he had been addressing his fellow-students : and now he was stretched on a bed of languishing ; and the interest which his immortal poem attached to his life, increased the sorrow with which we contemplated the significant pre- cursors of its approaching close. It was affeetingly evident that he was e going the way of all the earth;' and that, in composing his celebrated work, he had erected a monument for himself to grace an early grave. After conversing about his purpose of going to Italy, and the happiness of Christians 366 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. in looking forward to ' a better country/ we bade him adieu — a final adieu, I doubted not, as far as that time was con- cerned of which he had portrayed the course with such dis- tinguished ability. " Such are a few recollections of your gifted brother. I am sensible that they are very scattered and imperfect, and that, if they possess any interest at all, they must derive it from the interest attaching to the person to whom they relate. The exploits of his genius can be imitated by few. His life and death are instructive to us all, teaching us to be followers- of him wherein he was a follower of Christ, and giving all diligence to make our calling and election sure, that so an entrance may be ministered to us abundantly into the hea- venly kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. — I am, my dear sir, yours very sincerely, " David King/' The letter, presented to him, is inserted here as a token of the interest which the students of the United Secession Divinity Hall took in the success of his poem, and especially as a memorial of their " brotherly love" towards their late fellow-student. (s To Mr Robert Pollok, Preacher of the Gospel. " United Secession Divinity Hall, " Glasgow, 14th Aug. 1827. " Dear Brother — It has long been a cause of regret to the pious mind, that poetical genius should be generally misdi- rected, and that the highest efforts of intellect and imagina- tion should be rendered subservient to the propagation of vice. The pernicious consequences of such prostitution are THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. 367 certainly extensive and alarming. It is, therefore, gratifying that there have been exceptions to this general lamentable truth — that there have been master-minds which have exerted their mighty powers in ' vindicating the ways of God to man.' But how enthusiastic does this pleasure become when such genius arises in splendour from among ourselves, kind- ling its fire at the altar of God, and striking its harp to the immortal songs of Zion ! " Our satisfaction is too strong not to be expressed. Con- vinced that, from its depth and accuracy of theological views, its purity of moral sentiment, and the brilliancy of its genius, i The Course of Time ' is a work of the very highest merit ; and feeling that the distinguished honour which it confers on its author is not confined to himself, but is reflected on that theological seminary in which he was lately our fel- low-student, and on that Church to which we mutually belong ; we cannot refrain from offering you an expression at once of our highest admiration and strongest gratitude. " But our gratification, dear brother, is mingled with heartfelt sorrow, that your state of health is such as to require your removal to a more genial climate. May He who alone sendeth sickness and restoreth health, render effective the means which are employed for your recovery ; may He be your guide and comforter while in a foreign land ; and may He soon restore you, in health, to your coun- try, to your friends, and to the Church. — We are, dear brother, yours very affectionately, in name of the Hall, " Geo. Hill, Pres* " David King, Secy." From the time that the deputation left him, till late at * Late minister of the United Secession congregation, Musselburgh. 368 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. night, one of his warmest and most intimate friends among his fellow-students — Mr David C. Browning, now minister of one of the United Secession congregations in Newcastle- upon-Tyne— affectionately attended him, cheered and re- freshed him by his presence and conversation, and rendered himself serviceable to him in various ways in making some arrangements for the prosecution of his journey. Early next morning Robert left the inn in a noddy, to take the canal boat for Edinburgh ; and his friend Mr Browning accompanied him to Port-Dundas, and did not leave him till after seeing him safe in the boat. At seven o'clock he left Port-Dundas, intending to go to Edinburgh that day; but he suffered so much in the boat from its closeness, and from its shocks against the banks of the canal, that, on reaching Port-Downie, near Falkirk, which was about one o'clock in the afternoon, he went to pass the night in an inn, resolved to go no further by the canal. Immediately on reaching it, he betook himself to bed in a state of great exhaustion ; and lay from that time till the evening, when he rose to tea, sat a few minutes, and then went to bed again. His appetite, however, was bad, and his sleep disturbed. Next day he proceeded by a stage-coach to Edinburgh ; and, on his arrival there, he went to the Rev. John Brown's, Rose Street, where he was to pass the night, and was obliged from fatigue to go immediately to bed. The day following, at the request of his kind entertainer, Dr Brown, he sat for his portrait, which was finished at two or three short sittings. This portrait, which was executed by Daniel Macnee, Esq., is a correct likeness of him at the time when it was taken, being then very thin and weak, and feverish-looking ; but he had, when in health, much more boldness, intelligence, and expressiveness of look than it gives THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 369 him. On the whole, however, it is a very good likeness of him, especially from the top of the cheekbone upwards, where he was least changed in appearance ; and as it is the only portrait for which he ever sat, much gratitude is due to Dr Brown for getting it taken, and for permitting an engraving from it to be prefixed to " The Course of Time " and the present Memoir. The same day, leaving Mrs Gilmour in Dr Brown's, he went out by a post-chaise to Dr Belfrage's, Slateford, where he remained till Tuesday following, the 21st of August; and, during that period, it was agreed that he should sail for London on the 22d. On Monday morning, Mrs Gilmour, according to his directions, went out to Slateford to pass the day with him there ; and she found him, she says, " still weak and restless, and not able to be out of bed or off the sofa for half an hour at a time." In the course of the day he received a visit from the venerable Henry Mackenzie, Esq., author of " The Man of Feeling," and was much gratified by it. In the evening, his two most intimate friends, the Rev. Robert Pollok and Mr David Marr, visited him together. Of this visit Mr Pollok, the survivor of the two visitants, gives the following affecting account in a letter to me : — " Manse of Buckhaven, 4th May 1840. " My Dear Sir — In compliance with your request, I write to give you an account of Mr Marr's visit and mine to your brother Robert at Dr Belfrage's, Slateford, two days before he left Scotland for London. " Mr Marr was then a licentiate of our church, and he and I met, by agreement, at Mid-Calder. On our way 370 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. thence to Edinburgh, we called at Slateford, to have, as we very much apprehended, our last interview with your brother. Unhappily he was confined to bed at the time, and was feeling considerable uneasiness from the medical treatment under which he had needed to be placed, and from the fatigues of his farewell visit to his friends in the west. To prevent the increase of excitement in his system, we were requested, by Dr Belfrage, to qualify our conversa- tion with him, and shorten as much as possible the time of our interview. Our conversation with him was chiefly about the state of his health, his proposed visit to the Continent, and the probable benefit which he might derive from it. " After conversing with him a short time, we found it necessary to terminate our interview, that he might not be excited and exhausted by it. I believe we both felt, though we were forbidden to gay so, that this would most probably be our last farewell with him ; and that the Triumvirate — a name by which, as you know, your brother, and Mr Marr, and myself had, for some years previous, at times calle4 ourselves — would soon be dissolved ; one member of it, the most precious and its brightest ornament, was about to be laid low in the dust, just when the perio4 of his usefulness had arrived, and an imperishable token of his high worth had been put into the hands of men. " I do not need to say that, as we approached Slateford to see your brother, during our stay with him there, and after we left him, very singular and ineffable emotions swelled our hearts. Our sadness at parting with him, and the aspect of that day, are yet fresh in my memory ; nor will any event, down to the latest period of my life, be able to efface them. As we left Slateford, the shades of the evening were begin- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 371 ning to fall ; the sky was dull and cloudy ; the wind came from the east, and carried along with it a thick and pestife- rous mist from the sea ; the air was very chilly and cold, and it blew right in our faces as we walked to Edinburgh. The depression of our spirits was increased by the bleakness of the day. Many a road had my friend Marr and I gone together, but I think this was the most silent and the most solemn. " Such are some of my recollections of Mr Marr's visit and mine to your brother at Slateford, and of my last interview with him, for I never saw him again. If they should be of any use to you in his Life, I shall be very happy. I am, my dear friend, yours as ever faithfully, " Robert Pollok." In the course of Monday, while he was in bed, or engaged with visitants, Mrs Gilmour tried, according to her inten- tion when she left Moorhouse, to prevail on Dr Belfrage to dissuade him from going to Italy, and advise him to return home, urging his obvious unfitness for travelling, and express- ing her unwillingness, on that account, to go any further with him. But the Doctor, admitting his unfitness for going to Italy, said to her that, all circumstances considered, it would be best to allow him to proceed to London ; and that himself and his medical friends in Edinburgh would write to some of the physicians in the metropolis, to send him to a genial place in the south of England, as the best thing that could be done for the recovery of his health : at the same time he enjoined her not to tell him this, but to proceed with him to London as if they were going to the Continent. Mrs Gilmour then remonstrated against letting Robert proceed to the south of England, and Dr 372 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. Belfrage said, " It would be a pity not to let him go there : it would be like taking the last plank from a drowning man." On Tuesday morning he wrote the following document, which is rather curious from its will-like formality, appoint- ing me corrector of the press for the second edition of " The Course of Time." " Slateford, August 21, 1827. " I, Robert Pollok, being advised by my physicians to go abroad for some time, for the recovery of my health, hereby appoint you, David Pollok, sole corrector of the next edition of my poem, < The Course of Time ; ' and you are hereby bound to make no alteration, in words, except such as I shall mark on a copy of the work, and leave in the hands of Dr Belfrage." Having made a few verbal corrections on a copy of the work, he left it with Dr Belfrage. On one of its blank leaves there was the following notice in his handwriting :— " Copy of ' The Course of Time,' corrected by the Author, from which nothing is to be added or parted. " R. Pollok. « For David Pollok." About eleven o'clock on Tuesday forenoon, accompanied by Dr Belfrage and Mrs Gilmour, he left Slateford in a post-chaise, and went to the Rev. John Brown's, Edinburgh, where he was to pass the night, preparatory to sailing for London next morning. Soon after his arrival at Dr Brown's, he received some THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 373 materials for writing from Sir John Sinclair, accompanied with the following note and memorandum, which are inserted here as testimonials of the right honourable baronet's atten- tions to him : — " Sir John Sinclair thinks it right to send Mr Robert Pollok materials for writing, the want of which is often felt by travellers ; also cards for writing his name when he settles at Leghorn or any other place. " 133, George Street, Edinburgh, 20th August 1827." " Memorandum for Mr Robert Pollok. " 1. Sir John Sinclair has written to his son, George Sin- clair, Esq., to endeavour to get letters in favour of Mr Pollok, to the British consuls at Leghorn, Genoa, Pisa, and Naples, from John Backhouse, Esq., under-secretary of state at the foreign department. It would be most material to get them. 2. But the great object is, to get the assistance of the Literary Fund for the expenses of the journey ; and for that purpose, it is of the utmost importance that Mr Pirie should see, in person, Mr George Sinclair and Sir Benjamin Hob- house, with as little delay as possible. " 3. Mr Pollok should take a copy or two of his work with him — one for corrections. " 4. Remember the 'muffler' in cold and damp weather, particularly at sea. " J. S. " 133, George Street, Edinburgh, 20th August 1827." Soon after going to Edinburgh, he made a will respecting 3 74 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. " The Course of Time," and his manuscript poetry. By this will, of which he appointed the Rev. Dr Belfrage and the Rev. Dr Brown executors, his father was his principal lega- tee ; and it is gratifying to he able to state, that, according to his " trust," expressed in his letter to me of the 31st of October 1824, giving " the history of" his " perplexity," God rewarded the sire by his son. After making his will, accompanied by Dr Brown he called on Sir John Sinclair, to thank him for his many kind atten- tions ; and the right honourable baronet, with his amiable daughters, received him courteously, and treated him with much consideration and respect. While making arrange- ments for his departure next morning, he received letters from Dr Belfrage and some of his medical friends in Edin- burgh, to several of the medical gentlemen in London, and a letter of introduction from Dr Brown to John Pirie, Esq., late Lord Mayor of London, in whose house he was to live during his stay in the metropolis. It seems worthy of being mentioned here, as showing the attention which was paid to him in Edinburgh, that, during the day, upwards of twenty gentlemen and ladies called on him at Dr Brown's, some of them to see him for the first time, others to give him letters of introduction to their friends, and all of them, in bidding him farewell, to wish him a pros- perous voyage. A few of these letters, which, from want of opportunity, were not given away, are now in my possession. One of them is from his publisher, Mr Blackwood, and it deserves insertion here, as showing the generous interest which that gentleman felt in him. It is as follows : — THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 375 " To Mrs Bell, " Aux Soins de Messrs Lewis Wolfe et Co., " Florence, Italie. " Honoured by the Rev. R. Pollok. " Edinburgh, 20th August 1827. " Dear Madam — I hope you have ere now received my letter of the 6th of July. " The reason of my now addressing you is, that a very dear friend of mine, the Rev. Robert Pollok, is on the point of setting off for Italy for the recovery of his health ; and, as he will probably take up his residence somewhere in your neighbourhood, I feel very anxious he should have the plea- sure of knowing you, as I am sure you will feel an interest in him, both for his own sake, and as a sick countryman to whom any little attention in a foreign land will be so grateful. " ]y[ r Pollok is the author of a very remarkable poem, ' The Course of Time,' which, I regret now, I did not send you with the other books in Mr Mollini's parcel. I sent a copy to Mr M. ; and you will see a review of it in the June number of my Magazine. The critic, it is generally thought, has not done the author sufficient justice ; but the extracts speak for themselves. My venerable friend Mr Henry Mac- kenzie, and a number of our first literary men here, have taken the greatest [interest] in Mr Pollok on account of their high admiration of his poem. " Should Mr Pollok be so fortunate as to have the honour of meeting with you, I hope you will find him in better health than he is at present ; and that you will thank me for intro- ducing him to you; — I am, Madam, your very respectful and most obedient servant, " Wi Blackwood. " Mrs Bell." 378 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. In the evening, when he had completed his preparations for departure, Mr David Marr having called on him at Dr Brown's, and spent several hours with him and Mrs Gilmour in a room by themselves, he brought out from a trunk a great number of letters, which he had received in the course of years from different correspondents, and he and his friend burned them together, unfolding them, and laying them on the fire, one after another, in close succession, for a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes. This incident will account for so few of the letters of correspondents appearing in the Life. Having burned these, Robert proposed, though it was then a late hour, that they should take a drive in a hackney- coach before parting, and having immediately called one, they set out in it together. On their return, which was near midnight, they told Mrs Gilmour that they had taken a circuit of several miles, partly about town, and partly into the country ; and, as Mr Marr was going away, Robert told him to come back next morning by six o'clock, to accompany him to Newhaven to see him sail for London ; and enjoined him, on that account, to sleep in an inn near Dr Brown's. Next morning at six o'clock he left Dr Brown's, without Mr Marr, who had not come forward at the hour appointed, and went down in a chaise to Newhaven to sail by the steam- boat Soho, for London. He waited some time before going out to the steamer, which lay a considerable way from the pier, in expectation of seeing Mr Marr to bid him fare- well ; but he had to go out to it at last, without seeing him, and was a good deal disappointed. A little after he went on board, while standing on deck looking towards the pier, he perceived a small boat, rowed by two men, with a gentleman sitting astern, making rapidly towards the vessel ; and in- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 377 stantly said to Mrs Gilmour, with great joy, " Yon will be Mr Marr!" In a few minutes after, his friend came on board the steam-vessel, and seized him rapturously by the hand, expressing great joy that he had reached the steam- boat to bid him farewell ; telling him, at the same time, as his reason for not appearing at the hour appointed to ac- company him to Newhaven, that, contrary to his injunction, he had gone the night before to sleep at the house of an acquaintance, at a distance from Dr Brown's, and had over- slept himself. After talking together a few minutes, Robert and he shook hands, and bade one another farewell. Mr Marr then left the steam-vessel in the small boat ; and all the way, as he was going ashore, waved his hat to Robert, who stood on deck, waving his handkerchief to him in return, till he disappeared among the people at the end of the pier. Thus parted for the last time, after a friendship of ten years, these two familiar friends, of whom it may be truly said, that each loved the other as he loved himself. It seems worthy of notice, that Robert's most intimate and loving friend, Mr David Marr, was the last of all his friends who parted with him on leaving his native country never to re- turn. About nine o'clock in the morning of Wednesday the 22d of August, Robert sailed from Newhaven for London ; and on the passage, which was an unusually rough one for the season, he underwent a great deal of suffering. Notwith- standing he was free from sea-sickness, as he was never sub- ject to it, he suffered much from the rolling and pitching of the vessel, from the beating and quivering of the engine, and from the proximity of sea-sick passengers. Below, he suf- 2i 378 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. fered from want of air ; above, from wind and smoke, and every where, from the motion of the vessel. Soon after sail- ing he became so weak and feverish that he needed one to attend him almost constantly ; but Mrs Gilmour was so sea- sick, especially the first day of the passage, that she rather needed his attention than was able to give him any. Provi- dentially, a lady who had been introduced to him in the Rev. John Brown's, namely, Miss Benson, from Thorne in York- shire, was a passenger along with him, and not being so ill as Mrs Gilmour, kindly attended to him, and very much alle- viated his suffering, which he bore all along with character- istic endurance, without fretting or complaining. At noon on Friday the 24th of August, he landed from the steam-boat at Blackwall, in the suburbs of London, but was so much exhausted with the voyage that he was obliged to go to bed for an hour in an inn before he could proceed to the city. At one o'clock in the afternoon he arose and pro- ceeded by a chaise to London ; and on his arrival there he went, as directed by Dr Brown, to Camberwell, to the house of John Pirie, Esq., who kindly received him and Mrs Gilmour, and entertained them hospitably during their stay in the metropolis. His friends take this opportunity of expressing their most grateful acknowledgments for their kind attention. On arriving at Camberwell, he was informed that a ship called the Amy was likely to sail from London on the 28th of the month for Leghorn, the town to which he intended to go, and that another one would not sail thence to the same place for three weeks. On receiving this intelligence, and being desirous to proceed to Italy as soon as possible, he determined to sail by the Amy, and sent immediately to the post-office the letters which he had brought from Edin- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 379 burgh to medical gentlemen in London, that he might con- sult them on the state of his health. Next day he wrote to me the following letter, announcing his arrival, and stating what kind of passage he had : — " London, Aug. 25, 1827. " My Dear Brother — We arrived in London yesterday. Our passage from Newhaven was exceedingly rough. A steam-hoat has a rolling motion from side to side, while a packet rides beautifully over the waves. The captain said he had not made so rough a passage during the whole year. I was somewhat fatigued, but recover fast. Jean was very sea-sick. I do not know yet when we leave London. Mr Pirie's establishment is like the establishment of a prince. [No Signature.] " N.B.— You will find the corrected copy of my poem at Dr Belfrage's." The same day that he wrote this letter, which was his last to me, he secured, through the agency of Mr Pirie, accom- modation in the ship Amy for himself and Mrs Gilmour to Leghorn. From that time till the 28th of the month, when the Amy was expected to sail, he was busily employed, when able to be out of bed, in visiting some of the principal places in London, in calling on those to whom he had letters of introduction, and in purchasing a number of articles which he needed for his voyage ; so that he was kept, with one thing and another, in a state of bodily and mental excite- ment bordering on fever. Among the public buildings which he visited in that time, 380 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. St Paul's and Westminster Abbey were the principal ; and in the latter, Mrs Gilmour says he went no further than Poet's Corner. On the 28th of the month, he was told that the sailing of the Amy would be put off till the evening of the 30th, so that he had" two days to rest. It was then that Robert wrote the following' letter to the students of the United Secession Divinity Hall, in answer to the one which he re- ceived from them, on his way through Glasgow in the middle of the month, and to which he had not found it convenient sooner to reply : — " To the Students of the United Secession Theo- logical Hall, Glasgow. " London, Aug. 30, 1827. " Dear Friends and Brethren — I received your letter with great pleasure and satisfaction. So early and so high approbation of my work, although in this last I think you have somewhat exceeded, cannot fail to keep alive in my heart the warmest feelings of gratitude to every one of you, and to bring daily to remembrance our intimate brotherly connexion, our studying under the same venerable master, that wherever we are, our interest, our honour, our glory are one. I thank you for the manner in which you notice my health — < the prayer of the righteous availeth much.' " I am glad to be able to say, that, notwithstanding a very rough and fatiguing passage to London, I recover daily. This evening, or to-morrow morning at longest, we embark for Genoa and Leghorn : vessel Amy, Captain Bloomfield. In parting, let me — or rather let us exhort one another to THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 381 'live soberly and righteously and godly in this present world' — ' steadfast and immovable, always abounding in the work' of our gracious Lord and Master Jesus Christ: so that when he, the ' chief Shepherd, shall appear,' we ' also may appear with him in glory,' with crowns of unfading lustre, which he ' shall give unto us and and all those that love [his appearing] at that day/ * « R. POLLOK." * Of the same date is a letter from Mrs Gilmour to her father, the following parts of which 5 it is thought, may be interesting to the reader : — " London, Aug. SO, 1827. " Dear Father — On Friday, (the 24th,) we passed through London to Camberwell ; where we have remained since in John Pirie's, Esq., sea-merchant, whose house and equipage remind me of ancient Tyre, * whose merchants were princes.' " Robert has not been dissuaded from going to Italy, and our passage is taken in the trading ship Amy, which is to sail this evening or to-morrow morning. The captain's name is Bloomfield, an honest respectable character ; and we are to have the best accommodation in the vessel. " This going to Italy is quite different from my intention when I left Clarkston ; but I have been urged by some, and applauded by others ; and particularly I have been induced by the state of Robert's health, which requires some friend to go with him : otherwise I would not go for the world to the land of graven images, to a people whose lan- guage we know not, and whose manners are so different from * For a copy of this letter, I am indebted to Dr David King, to whom, as secretary of the Students' Society at that time, the original was addressed. 382 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOE. our own. But the thing that encouraged me most was what Dr Belfrage told me ; namely, that we were not to go to Italy, hut to the south of England, as the only means that could save Robert ; and of course, it was natural to try it. " Robert is scarcely ever displeased with me except when I show reluctance to go to Italy ; which henceforth I intend not to do. I leave a little room for him, and remain, yours,, &c. &c. * " Jean Pollok." At the end of this letter, Robert wrote to his father as follows : — " Dear Father — We arrived safe in London on Friday at mid-day, and notwithstanding the roughness of the passage, which was the roughest the captain made this season, I sustained it well. I have seen much of London. We have fine accommodations for Italy, and intend to sail to-morrow. I have had some work to keep Mrs Gilmour to the point. We shall likely be four or five weeks at sea : ship's name Amy, captain Bloomfield, for Genoa and Leghorn. We shall write as soon as we land. Have you got a man ? — see to that. ,? [No signature.] The same day he wrote to Dr Belfrage, giving him ait account of their voyage to London, as follows : — " London, Aug. SO, 1827. " Rev. and Dear Sir— I suppose Miss Benson has told you something of our voyage hither. First day, I was extremely well, and enjoyed the rough and tempestuous tossing very much. After dinner, I went down to take a nap ; soon fell THE LIFE OE ROBERT POLLOK. 383 asleep ; and soon awoke, feeble and exhausted. I immediately called one of the stewards, who frankly told me, what I had indeed discovered, that there was little or no air in the place where I had purposed to sleep. An hour or two on deck, however, recovered (me from) this dreadful suffocation. At night, I tried to sleep in the dining cabin ; but towards midnight it became so hot with steam, that I -was obliged to rise, dress, and sit up the whole night. Next day, from want of sleep and (from) fatigue, passed drearily: how to manage the night I knew not. After much consultation with the captain and a Dr Kirk, who was on board, I got an excellent place beside the doctor and some of the captain's friends ; where we were altogether out of the reach of the steam. Dr Kirk, a very fine gentleman, who has made several voyages to the East Indies, gave me a sedative draught ; and, in the course of half an hour, I felt myself infinitely refreshed; and I had a night's good sleep."* It was providential, as the sequel will show, that the sailing of the Amy was put off from the 28th till the 30th of August. From the time that Robert arrived in London up to that day, three medical gentlemen there, to whom he had received letters from Edinburgh, had called at Mr Pirie's to see him; but, unhappily, he was not within on any of these occasions ; so that he adhered to his purpose of going to Italy, for which, ever after his return from Aberdeen, he was manifestly unfit. But as yet Dr Gordon, a London physician, to whom he had been particularly recommended, and to whom he had brought a letter from Edinburgh, had not called on him ; and on the 30th, after the two letters inserted im- * The rest of this letter has not been transmitted for insertion. 384 THE LIFE OP ROBERT POLLOK. mediately above were written, it struck him that he should see him if possible before leaving- London, and so sent for him. In an hour afterwards he received a visit from that gentleman, who — after telling him that his reason for not calling sooner was, that owing to the indefiniteness of the address given him in the letter from Edinburgh, he had not been able, after seeking two days, to find out Mr Pirie's house, and that he had written for a more definite address- entered freely and feelingly into conversation with him re- specting the state of his health. In a little while, he told him mildly and soothingly, but quite plainly, that he was not able at the time to go to Italy; adding, that it would require a person much stronger than he was to stand the heat of that country, as well as the fatigue of a voyage to it. Upon this, Robert said to Dr Gordon that he would no longer think of going to it were it not that the fares had been paid for his passage and his sister's to Leg- horn ; but the Doctor told him mildly, that he must not concern himself about that, and immediately spoke on the subject to Mr Pirie, who promised to make application at the proper quarter, and get back at least one-half of the pas- sage-money. Whenever he heard that, giving 8 up at once his design of going to the Continent, he said to Mrs Gilmour, who " never saw him look so happy-like " — " We will get some rest now." Having asked Dr Gordon where then he would advise him to go, he was recommended to some quiet retired place a few miles from town ; but it was afterwards arranged that he should proceed to Southampton, seventy-six miles south-west from London. Thus ended suddenly, unex- pectedly, and providentially, his design of visiting Italy. THE LIFE OF RQBEFvT POLLOK. 385 CHAPTER XIV. On Friday the 31st of August, early in the forenoon, Robert left London for Southampton, and, though he was so weak that he could not sit up in the carriage without Mrs Gil- mour's support, he travelled that day to Alton, a distance of fifty miles. He passed the night in an inn ; went early to bed, but slept little or none ; and next morning, after break- fast, proceeding on his journey, he arrived at Southampton about mid-day. After resting himself a little he called a coach, and went to look for lodgings a short way out of town. The coachman recommended him to a Mr Hyde's, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about a mile out of South- ampton, where he found most commodious and comfortable lodgings, with an agreeable landlord and landlady, in a neat, clean, well-aired cottage, delightfully situated, with a plea- sant garden to which he might retire when he pleased. This journey from London to Southampton, which was the last that he undertook, and which was accomplished in a day and a half, seemed to exhaust any little strength that was left to him. On completing this journey, on Saturday the 1st of Sep- tember, which, Mrs Gilmour says, was as beautiful a day, with as unclouded a sky as she ever saw, he was so much fa- tigued, that on taking up his lodgings at Mr Hyde's he found 2k 386 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. it necessary to go to bed, but was both sleepless and restless. Next day, Sabbath, he was mostly out of bed, and seemed occasionally to have more ease than he had had for some time before ; but he spoke now and then of the effects of his long 1 journey from London, and was very weak and fever- ish. In the course of the day, which was extremely fine, he took a walk out on Shirley Common, that he might " feel," as he said, " the fresh breezes of heaven," and he was greatly delighted both with the situation of the place and with the mildness and salubrity of the air. Mrs Gilmour accompanied him on his walk, carrying a cushion, which he bought himself in London, in the one hand, and the Bible in the other ; and laying down the cushion every now and then, he sat on it and rested himself, while she read to him. For three or four days after that, though he was highly fevered and grew gradually worse, he was out of bed, less or more, and was able to sit out on a chair, or walk a little in the garden, which was a most delightful place, con- taining a great variety of fruit ; and Mrs Hyde kindly told him he was welcome to any of it at pleasure, but he would not take any himself, and made her weigh a few fine apples to him, lest, as he said, he might be tempted, they were so inviting, to take them at his own hand. Mrs Gilmour says, " If any thing on this earth might now be compared to Paradise, it was this place; and Eobert seemed to enjoy it very much, walking and sitting in it alternately; while the air was so mild and placid that you could hear the apples falling from the trees one after another." By the 5th or 6th of September, however, four or five days after going to Southampton, he became so weak that he was obliged to keep his bed ; and, to use Mrs Gilmour's words,, THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 387 " he never had his foot on this earth more." He was now, as will be anticipated, in the last stage of his illness ; and during it, though he was far from home, and among utter strangers, he was neither comfortless nor unconsoled. Mrs Gilmour, who had a bed in the same room with him, attended him day and night, and gave him food, drinks, and cordials, as he wanted them ; and his landlady, Mrs Hyde, feelingly sympathized with him, doing every thing in her power to make him comfortable. When he became so weak as to be confined to bed, he made some enquiries at Mrs Hyde respecting the gentlemen of the medical profession in Southampton, and called in the attendance of Mr Stewart, a young Irish surgeon from that town ; and, besides being daily attended by this gentleman, he was visited once or twice by Mr Parker, his partner in practice ; twice by Dr Denholm, one of the most experienced physicians there ; and once by a young Scotch surgeon, whose name Mrs Gilmour did not ascertain, or has forgotten. In a few days after, the Rev. Dr Wilson, rector of the parish in which his lodgings were situated, having heard of him through Mr Stewart, his medical attendant, who had learned from Mrs Gilmour that he was the author of " The Course of Time," paid him a visit, and brought him some grapes along with other delicate fruits. In a day or two after that, he received a visit from a gen- tleman, who, though a stranger, Mrs Gilmour says, " had a brother's kindness for him," and who, afterwards, called on him frequently ; and by his many kind attentions, his Chris- tian conversation, and his prayers, greatly contributed to his comfort and consolation. This was Owen Lloyd, Esq., Merrion Square, Dublin, who, being then at Southanrtan 388 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. with his wife for the benefit of her health, had heard of him by Mr Stewart, who was attending Mrs Lloyd. Of this gen- tleman Robert said to his sister, " He is one of our own school ; " and Mrs Gilmour says, she " did not see Robert so much at home and so easy and happy with any body after leaving Scotland as with him." But amid all the attentions that were paid to him, and all the comforts with which he was surrounded, he became daily weaker and weaker. For three or four days after being confined to bed, he was very uneasy and restless. He then became easier, lay quiet, and for a day or two seemed bet- ter ; but still, in reality, was growing worse. On Monday, the 10th of September, by which time he had become very weak, Mr Stewart, on retiring from paying him a visit, took Mrs Gilmour quietly out of the room, and told her that he had little hope of his recovery, evidently meaning, from the manner in which he spoke, that he had no hope of it whatever. When she returned, Robert having noticed Mr Stewart take her out, and perceiving a change in her countenance when she returned, he asked her what the doctor had said to her: she tried to put him off, but he insisted on her telling him ; and she then told him all. He heard it without any apparent emotion, and without saying any thing ; but in a little, still thinking from what Dr Belfrage and his medical friends in Edinburgh had said to him, that, under proper treatment, he would recover, he pro- posed to send to London for Dr Gordon, who had been recom- mended by Dr Abercrombie, and wanted his sister to write for him immediately. But Mrs Gilmour, thinking it her duty to undeceive him with respect to this hope, and thus dissuade him from his purpose, acknowledged to him what THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 389 Dr B elf rage said to her, when she tried, at Slateford, to have him dissuaded from going further. On this, after looking at her steadily for a little in deep reflection, he laid himself in an easy position in bed, expressed a wish to see me, and began to speak calmly and familiarly of death. From that time, during the remaining days of his life, he thought him- self dying, and spoke no more of medical aid. Hitherto, from his going to Southampton, he had made Mrs Gilmour defer writing to his father from day to day, in the hope of being able to tell him that he was getting better ; but he now wished her to write immediately to let him know how he was ; and of her letter of next day, the following parts seem proper for insertion here : — "Southampton, Sept. II, 1827. " My Dear Father — On the morning of the 31st of last month, instead of sailing for Italy, we set off for Southamp- ton, about seventy-six miles from London, which journey we accomplished in a day and a half. But Robert was so much fatigued with the jolting of the carriage that he has been fevered ever since, and has been confined to bed for five or six days past. A surgeon from Southampton has attended him daily during that time ; and yesterday he told me he had little hope of my brother's getting better. Still, how- ever, there is hope, for the fever is abated in some measure. Yesterday and to-day he seems to have more ease. He now speaks often of death, and rather regrets that he was sent so far from his friends. But he is resigned to the will of Pro- vidence ; and we have very comfortable lodgings, and a remarkably kind landlady, who has had a great deal of trouble herself, so that she sympathizes with Robert very 390 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. much. She is also well acquainted with cooking any nice dish that he can fancy. " He has a great desire to see our brother David here ; and if you could get notice to him soon, he could come by the mail straight through to London, and from thence in a few hours to Southampton. " Robert sleeps a great deal to-day, so that I have leisure to write. I am sitting at his bed-foot, in a neat clean room, in a little cottage, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about one mile from Southampton. Our landlord is an old man and remarkably quiet, and his whole family consists of his wife and a maid-servant, and he keeps three cows. I men- tion this because Robert has been so fond of milk since coming here, and he has got it every way he wished. He seems better to-day, and feels some ' rest to his bones/ as he expresses it. I am quite well myself, and feel more comfortable now since Robert seems sensible of his frail state, and is so resigned, and I hope [is so well] prepared for whatever may be the consequence. I have not needed to sit a whole night with him yet, but have to rise three or four times in the night — my bed is in the same room. " Tell my husband I expect to be home soon. I am, yours, &c. " Jean Pollok." On the same sheet 'Robert himself wrote the few follow- ing lines, — and they are the last he wrote : — « Dear Father — It is with difficulty that I can repeat what my sister has written above, that I wish David to come off immediately. Whatever my gracious and merciful God and Saviour has in design with me at this time, David's pre- THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 391 sence will be equally useful. Let nothing delay his immediate coming. Wherever he is, the Presbytery will at once set him at liberty in a case of this kind. My sister is often much distressed; but we pray for one another, and take comfort in the gracious promises of God. I hope I am prepared for the issue of this trouble, whether life or death. Pray for me. " R. Pollok." Such were the circumstances and the state in which Robert was approaching his end — far from home, lying easy and peaceful, with daily medical attendance, and with his sister watching over him day and night, in a retired cottage, with a quiet agreeable landlord, and an experienced, attentive landlady; aware that he was dying, talking often of death, and " resigned to the will of Providence," praying at times with his sister, and taking " comfort '' with her " in the gracious providence of God," hoping that he was "prepared for the issue of his trouble, whether that was to be life or death." From the date of this letter he continued in a resigned, submissive, peaceful, and comfortable state of mind; and as he became gradually weaker and weaker in body, he be- came more and more calm, collected, and composed in mind. " He grew," to use his sister's words, " liker his old way — liker what he used to be : " by rest and quietness the fever abated, and the mental and bodily excitement sub- sided. He was occasionally distressed with alternate heats and colds, but he got soothing medicines and cordials, and, on the whole, he did not suffer much. He was now visited once, and sometimes twice, a-day by Mr Lloyd, who brought him all sorts of cordials which he 392 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. thought would promote his comfort, stood and administered them with his own hand, and " cheered him with his Chris- tian conversation." He spoke frequently, but only at most a short sentence or two at a time ; and he continued to speak calmly and familiarly of death and of dying. He spoke once, and only once, of being unwilling or afraid to die ; and his sister said to him, " I thought you would not be afraid to die ; our brother James, I remember, was not afraid of dying." " Yes," he replied, " but I have great sins." " I thought," said his sister, " you would not have great sins." " Ay," he said, (i I have great sins; but, no doubt," he added after a short pause, " I have a great Saviour." He spoke of all his relations and friends, but especially of his father, and said he wished them all to be religious. He made his sister keep the Bible by his bed-side, and read passages in it, now and then, many of which he pointed out to her, especially in the Psalms and in the Gospel accor- ding to John, which were always his favourite portions of Scripture — the former for spiritual sublimity, and the latter for spiritual simplicity. He bade her read from no other book but the Bible, and spoke to her of no other book. He prayed often himself, and once bade his sister pray. Once also having requested Mr Lloyd to do so, he said he was but a layman, and not used to pray before clergymen ; but would pray as he could. Mr Lloyd then prayed, and Robert said he was greatly refreshed with his prayer. The only thing about which he seemed to have any un- easiness or anxiety, was to see me. But though his wish, that I should " come off immediately" on receipt of his sister's letter to his father of the 11th of September, was complied with, his "great desire to see" me was not permitted to be THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 393 gratified. When his sister saw this desire very strong, she said to him, if he wanted any thing very particular with me, if he would mention what it was, she would tell me, and it would be attended to the same as if he had seen me. But he only answered, " I would like to see David himself." He made his sister write once for him to Dr Belfrage, and once or twice to Mr Pirie, letting them know how he was. He was so weak, however, that he could not be at the trouble of dictating the letters to her ; but made her read them to him when they were written. He made two, and only two, dying bequests : he left his watch to his nephew, John Pollok ; and to me a favourite penknife. On the morning of Monday the 17th of September, he grew rapidly worse. During the day he was a little un- easy and restless, and spoke a few words now and then; but towards evening he seemed free from all pain, lay quiet, and had a great desire to fall asleep. He was so sensitive and so acute in hearing, that the least motion or sound dis- turbed him ; and telling his sister that he would like to have a sleep, bade her keep herself very quiet, that he might not be disturbed. She did so ; but still he could not fall asleep ; for, however quiet she was, he said he heard her breathe* She went out, as he wanted her ; but she was afraid to leave him alone, lest, as she expresses it, " he might go away" when she was not with him ; and she returned, and lay down at the foot of his bed to be out of his sisrht. But he soon heard her breathing, and looked up, and bade her go out again. She did so once more ; but, returning in a short time, sat down quietly beside him unperceived ; and he seemed then to be asleep. Mr Lloyd came at seven o'clock in the 394 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. evening, and stayed with him till nine ; when he helped his sister to adjust the bed according to his pleasure, and took his leave with little or no hope of seeing him again in life. During most of the time that Mr Lloyd stayed, and for nearly an hour after his departure, Robert lay quiet, and apparently asleep. About ten o'clock at night, after his sister had read some passages of the Bible to him, he sat up in bed, and prayed for a considerable time ; " and," to use his sister's words, " he put up an exceedingly sensible prayer, remembering in it a number of his friends, but particularly his father, whom he had frequently spoken of with great veneration." While he was praying, Mrs Hyde, knowing him to be so engaged, and being desirous to hear him, came into the room, and knelt down by his bedside. He noticed her, but was not disturbed, and prayed for her and her husband; and, when he had done, she expressed herself as much pleased that he had prayed for them, and very thankful that she had come in to hear him. This was the last time that he prayed aloud. He then lay down, and seemed to fall asleep. In a little, Mr Stewart and Dr Denholm called to see him ; but they could do no more for him. Dr Denholm merely adjusted his pillow, and placed his head on it in an easy position ; " and after that," says his sister, " his pillow was never altered." On their retiring, Mrs Gilmour asked them if they thought he would " put over the night," and Dr Denholm said to her, mildly and feelingly, " You may be prepared for the worst." About eleven o'clock at night he was very quiet ; and his sister, being much fatigued, lay down in bed to rest herself for a little. He continued in this state till twelve o'clock, and then his sister says, " he gave a strange moan." She instantly rose, and went to his bedside, and looked on THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 395 Kim. She saw lie was still in life, but near his end ; and she said to him, " You are going to leave us now, Robert." At first he gave her no answer; but, on her moistening his lips, he said, " Ay;" and this was the last word that he spoke. His sister then called Mrs Hyde, who had express- ed a wish to be brought in to see him die ; and on her coming, she and his sister stood looking on him together, and he lay quiet again for nearly half an hour. About half- past twelve o'clock, he made some slight motion as if he had been going to raise himself in bed, and opened his eyes, which looked remarkably bright and peaceful. He then closed them, and lay down again as if he had been going to sleep ; remaining at ease, in the same position, till one o'clock in the morning, when he died in peace, on Tuesday the 18th of September 1827, in the twenty-ninth year of his age. Not many hours after he died, Mr Lloyd returned to Mr Hyde's to consult with Mrs Gilmour respecting his funeral ; and at first it was her intention to take home his remains ; but Mr Parker, to whom she happened to mention the sub- ject, having represented it to her as impracticable, she con- cluded that he must be buried in that neighbourhood, yet wished the interment put off till my arrival, which she ex- pected daily. Mr Lloyd then wrote for her to Mr Pirie, in- forming him of Robert's death ; went and selected a proper place for his grave ; and gave the necessary instructions re-< specting the funeral. On the day after Robert died, a note addressed to him from Mr Pirie arrived at Mr Hyde's, inclosing the following copy of a letter to that gentleman from the Rev. John Brown, con- taining an interesting extract respecting his claim as an 396 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. author on the Literary Fund, to which application had been made in his favour, through the intervention of Sir John Sinclair : — " John Pirie, Esq., Cornhill, London. "Edinburgh, 15th September 1828. " My Dear Sir — I feel myself laid under great obligations to you for your uncommon attention to my sick friend Pollok. In reference to your remark respecting the difficulty of secu- ring the assistance of the Literary Fund, I am glad to say there seems every prospect of obtaining that object. I send you an extract of a letter lately received by Sir John Sinclair, from Sir Benjamin Hobhouse. < Mr Pollok's book, entitled " The Course of Time/' does him great credit, and gives him claims as an author upon the Literary Fund. I have sent it with a recommendation to Mr Snow, our secretary, at No. 4, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London ; but, unfortunately, there is no regular meeting of the Committee of Management until the second Wednesday in November, and it is difficult at this season of the year to get a quorum for a special meet- ing ; I therefore know not what to do.' Sir John, in a note to me, says, ' By applying to Mr Snow, it will be ascertained whether any immediate supply can be obtained.' But Sir John thinks sooner or later it may be depended on. May I request you to look after this business ? I know it is a very unreasonable thing to lay any additional burden on one whose time and attention are so thoroughly occupied as yours ; but I know also, you are not in the habit of thinking either time or attention wasted which is devoted to the cause of benevolence. " As Mrs Pirie is likely to be returned by this time, I beg to have my kind and respectful remembrances presented to THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 397 her. — I am, my dear Sir, with much esteem and respect, yours, &c. " John Brown." On receipt of Mr Lloyd's letter, Mr Pirie wrote Mrs Gil- mour as follows : — "London, Sept. 19, 1827. " Dear Madam — I have just received the melancholy intelli- gence of your brother's departure, I doubt not, to a better world. " To-morrow morning I will leave town, and be with you about six o'clock. In the mean time, Mr Lloyd will, I am sure, be kind enough to give such instructions as may be necessary respecting the funeral, which had better take place on Friday or Saturday, in a plain and simple manner. " I have written to the Rev. Mr Brown, begging him to acquaint your friends with the distressing event, as I am not in possession of their addresses. " It is completely out of my power to get away this even- ing, otherwise I would readily set off then — With the deep- est sympathy, I am, dear Madam, yours truly, « John Pirie." " P.S — The kindness evinced by Mr Adkins,* leads me to observe that you had better submit to Mr Lloyd the propriety of inviting him to the funeral." Next day, Thursday, the 20th of September, Mr Pirie came from London to attend the funeral; and, on his arrival, * A Dissenting minister in Southampton, to whom Mr Pirie had written to call on Robert, at Mr Hyde's, and who, with his wife, called for him there, a few hours after he died. 398 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK, it was arranged that it should take place on the day follow- ing. It was attended by only a few individuals, as none but those who had called to see him at Mr Hyde's were invited. Mrs Gilmour and Mr Pirie were, what is called m England, chief mourners. He was buried in the church- yard of Millbrook, near the sea-shore, one mile from De- vonshire Place, Shirley Common, where he died, and two miles from Southampton. His burial was according to the form of the Church of England ; and the Rev. Mr Moles- worth read the burial-service, which, as the church was then under repairs, was read in the churchyard by the side of his grave.* On the very day that Robert's funeral took place, the Rev. John Brown wrote the following excellent letter to his father, informing him of his death : — " Edinburgh, 19, Rose Street, 21st Sept. 1827. " My Dear Sir — It is with deep sympathy that I perform the painful duty which has devolved on me, the communi- cating to you the mournful intelligence— for which, however, Mrs Gilmour's last letter must have prepared you — of the f It seems proper to subjoin a few words here respecting his wish to see me at Southampton : — When our father received Mrs Gilmour's letter of the 11th of September, I was at Bathgate, eighteen miles west from Edinburgh. As soon as he had read it, he sent it off to me by post. I received it on the 19th of the month, eight days after it was written, when it happened that Mr David Marr and I were sitting together, waiting in great anxiety to hear from Robert. In half an hour after receiving it I was on the road to Edinburgh, to set out thence by the first conveyance to Southampton. Next morning, September 20, at six o'clock, I left Edinburgh for London, where 1 arrived on the 22d, about six o'clock in the evening. Next day I hastened on to Southampton, and reached Mr Hyde's, Shirley Common, at five o'clock in the afternoon, three days and a half after setting out. I knocked THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 399 death of your highly-gifted son. By a letter from Mr Pirie of London, inclosing a copy of a letter from the Rev. Mr Adkins of Southampton, which I have just received, I find that he peacefully breathed his last on Monday, 17th cur- rent.* ' It is a subject of gratulation,' says Mr Adkins, i that he was by no means destitute of Christian friendship, and that his mind seemed truly composed.' Mr Pirie, whose kindness has been remarkable, was to leave London yester- day to take charge of the funeral. Mr David Pollok, who left this yesterday for London, will, I am afraid, be too late to do the last office to his brother ; but it will materially add to Mrs Gilmour's comfort, in her present trying circum- stances, to have him as her companion in her journey home. I trust, my dear sir, * He who comforts them that are cast down ' will, by his good spirit shining on his ' exceeding great and precious promises,' support your mind under this severe bereavement. The world and the Church have sus- tained a loss, not easily calculated, in what we are apt to think the untimely death of such an individual. But ' It is the Lord ;' and the language of the event is, ' Be still, and know that I am God.' From what your son has told me of at the door, both eager and afraid to knock ; and Mrs Hyde herself opened it. I asked her if Mr Pollok and his sister were there ? and the moment I asked her, I thought by her appearance that, as I feared all along, I was too late. " They were here," she said with deep feeling, taking me, as she told me afterwards, to be their brother whom they sent for ; " but they are not here now : they are both gone. Mr Pollok is no more, and his sister has gone to London." What a void dreary desolateness these words produced ! I felt as if alone in the world ! With what unutterable feelings did I see his grave, and the room in which he died ! * Mr Adkins's letter had been incorrect with regard to the date of his death ; but, as it took place at one o'clock in the morning of Tuesday the 18th of the month, it is easy to account for the slight mistake. 400 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. you, I have every reason to consider you as * an old disciple ;' and it is a thought which to your mind must be full of com- fort, that the separation between you and your much and deservedly loved son cannot be very long ; and that the event which will restore you to him, will also bring you into the immediate presence of your Saviour and your God. — I am, my dear sir, yours faithfully, " John Brown." As soon as the intelligence of his death reached Glasgow, which it did before it was known that his funeral had taken place in England, a proposal was originated among the stu- dents of the United Secession Divinity Hall, in concert with Robert Hood, Esq., formerly mentioned, to bring his remains down to Scotland for interment, as the following letter, writ- ten to his father on the occasion by the late celebrated Henry Bell, Esq., Helensburgh, who was related to us by marriage, will show : — « Sir — I am sorry at the irreparable loss that you and the family have met with in the death of the Rev. Robert Poll ok, My earnest prayer is, that it may be sanctified to you and all friends. " It is the request of a great number of his [late] fellow- students to have his corpse brought down to Scotland, and interred in the new burying-ground underneath Dr Mitchell's church, where a monument is to be erected upon his grave ; but before taking this step, it is necessary to have your con- sent, which I hope you will give. Please send your son down to-morrow to Mr Robert Hood's, Candleriggs, as he and a number of friends wish to send off two students by THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 401 the mail-coach to-morrow night, in purpose to bring down his corpse by a steam- vessel. I hope you will comply with the request. — I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, " Henry Bell. « Glasgow, 25th Sept. 1827." Immediately after this letter was written, intelligence that he was buried in England reached Glasgow ; and, on that account, the students and Mr Hood and his friends gave up their patriotic design of bringing his remains to Scotland. A few days afterwards his father received, from the secre- tary of the Students' Society, the following letter of sympathy and condolence : — " Glasgow, September 28th, 1827. " My Dear Sir — I have been enjoined by the students of divinity in the Secession Hall, to communicate to you the following resolution, to which they this day unanimously agreed : — " ' That, from the high admiration in which we hold " The Course of Time," by the late Robert Pollok, and from the respect which we cherish towards his memory, we hereby express our sincere sympathy and condolence with his rela- tions and friends in the mournful bereavement which they have sustained by his lamented death, and our hope that his relations and acquaintances will agree to transmit, without delay, to some well-qualified person, such materials for a memoir of him as they possess, which memoir, prefixed to a second edition of his poem, will, in conjunction with its own excellency, be, in their opinion, the best means of perpetu- ating his well-earned fame.' " My dear Sir, joining as I heartily do, in the feelings expressed in the above resolution, as well as cherishing 2l 402 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. toward the deceased the recollection of personal friendship, I hope that the suggestion made in the end of the resolution will meet with your highest approbation. " Praying that the consolation of Almighty God may be with you in your affliction, and that you may find in your experience, that He that woundeth is also He that healeth — I am, sir, your most sincere well-wisher and servant, " Peter Davidson.* " Secretary of Students' Society." Soon after this, a proposal was made in Glasgow, by Mr David Robertson, bookseller, and his partner in business, the late Mr Thomas Atkinson, in concurrence with the late Mr James Hood, son of Robert Hood, Esq., and several other gentlemen, for disinterring his remains and bringing them down to Scotland. To this proposal his father had given his assent, and the concurrence of Dr Belfrage and Dr Brown had been requested ; but, owing to some unexpected difficulties, it was never carried into execution. A few months after his death, arrangements were made for erecting a monument over his grave, the expenses of which were to be defrayed out of the funds which had been raised for enabling him to visit Italy for the restoration of his health. In furtherance of this plan, the treasurers, Dr Belfrage and Dr Brown, addressed a circular to the contri- butors to these funds, in February 1828, showing, that after defraying certain expenses, £55 remained in their hands ; and stating that it had been suggested that the remainder should be devoted to the raising of a monument to his memory ; that the suggestion had been readily acquiesced * Now minister of the United Secession Congregation, Stockbridge, Edinburgh. THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. 403 in by a number of the contributors ; and that, should it not meet the approbation of any of them, their proportion of the funds in the hands of the treasurers would be returned, on their receiving intimation to that effect. As was to be ex- pected, all the contributors, on receiving the circular, readily acquiesced ; and a monument was erected accordingly. It is an obelisk of Peterhead granite ; and bears, with the dates of his birth and death, the following inscription, written by the Rev. Dr John Brown, Edinburgh : — THE GRAVE OF ROBERT POLLOK, A.M. AUTHOR OF " THE COURSE OF TIME :" HIS IMMORTAL POEM IS HIS MONUMENT. Erected by Admirers of His Genius. Such was the life of Robert Pollok, short, active, and memorable ; begun in obscurity, and closed in renown. His burial in England has been regarded by many in Scot- land as a subject of national regret. " Why," it is asked, " should the author of * The Course of Time,' who was born and bred in Scotland, and who lived and wrote, and almost died there, have been buried on another shore ? and why are his remains suffered to lie there ? " This is characteristic, national, patriotic ; and no doubt it would be inexpressibly interesting to have his grave in his native country : yet there are two things which almost reconcile us to his lying where he is laid — his finishing his 404 THE LIFE OF ROBERT POLLOK. earthly course there, and the delightfulness of the place where his ashes repose — the purity and softness of its air, the open- ness and freeness of the situation — its distance from any town, and its proximity to the sea. Although we cannot hut wish that he lay among his native mountains, we cannot help feeling how appropriate is the spot where he rests, for the grave of the author of " The Course of Time !" To his Life it is thought proper, as it may be interesting, to subjoin some account of his manuscripts in my possession ; which, with the exception of a few letters, are nearly the whole of them. Exclusive of the copies of one paper, four letters, and eight short poems, there are two hundred and forty altogether — sixty of essays, sixty of letters, sixty-four of poetry, fifteen of sermons, twenty-one of note-books, and twenty of miscellaneous papers. These amount to upwards of two thousand and four hundred pages, of which about fifteen hundred are quarto ; the rest are octavo. They are generally well written, and but a few of them are carelessly scrolled, and somewhat difficult to be read. Throughout, there are few omissions of words or letters, and few altera- tions or corrections. In variety and appearance they may be said to be a material or visible representation of the writer's variety of mind. Such are his manuscripts, left behind him in my possession ; and how affecting is it to look at them ! what feelings do they arouse ! what unutterable things do they not recall ! to what anticipations do they give rise ! And who can say — had it pleased Providence to prolong the author's life — to what even sublimer heights of genius his maturer energies might not have aspired ! THE ENI> OF THE EIFE. POEMS. POEMS. [The following juvenile verses are offered to the public, not from any idea of their being finished or perfect, but from the belief that the admirers of the author's great work, " The Course of Time," may wish to possess specimens of his earlier compositions.] ODE TO MOORHOUSE. Far from the giddy cheerless crowd, That press the street, thoughtless and loud, In ancient majesty arrayed, Timeworn Moorhouse, thou stand'st displayed. Thy walls irregular could tell At Bannockburn what numbers fell ; How Bruce, with strong resistless hand, From proud oppression saved his land. 408 POEMS. When popes and kings in hellish rage, By persecution thinned the age, Thy walls a faithful shelter proved To those that God and virtue loved. Oft in the silent midnight hour — When listening Heaven's Almighty Power, With ear inclined, delighted, hears The good man's prayer, and wipes his tears — Within thy walls assembled saints Praised Him who wearies not nor faints ; Praised Him who sheathed the bloody sword, And, undisturbed, his name adored, And angels joined the ascending song, Wafting it to the eternal throng. The lofty trees that by thee grow, A supplicating look bestow On me, a stripling, easy laid Within their hospitable shade ; And, sighing, say, " The kindly hand That gave us birth in this blest land, Centuries ago lies in the dust ; O do not thou betray thy trust ! Us gently prune with feeling hand, Nor to destroy us give command. Thy fathers, now above the sky, Watched o'er us with paternal eye ; O to our age some reverence yield ! Nor envy us this little field." * * These trees are alluded to in a passage in the fifth book of" The Course of Time," where the Author reverts to the scenery of his native place. POEMS. 409 Around, untainted zephyrs blow, And purling rills unfailing flow, And Earn's pure stream with gentle waves, Unceasingly thy border laves. The smiling herds that graze thy plain Of drink or pasture ne'er complain ; Their wintry food thy meadows yield, Secured ere Boreas beats the field; Thy joyful, waving, yellow plains, Ne'er baulk the labour of the swains. O happy dome ! placed far remote From city broils and treason's plot ; The city smoke ne'er reach'd thy plain, Which suffocates the motley train ; Far from the crimes that rage unnamed, From which the day retires ashamed ; Far from the breezes fraught with death, Far from contagion's mortal breath ; Happy the swains who in thee live, Who read their Bibles and believe, Who worship God with heart and mind, And to his will are aye resigned ! A HYMN. When Satan, man's infernal foe, By pride and hate impelled, Had plunged our race in guilt and woe, And forth from bliss expelled; 2 m 410 POEMS. The mighty Lord of love and grace, Who sits enthroned od high, In mercy viewed the ruined race, And sent his Son to die. He sent his Son from his right hand To this lost world of woes, By death to conquer and command All our destroying foes ; To conquer sin, and death, and hell, And triumph o'er the grave ; The great Destroyer to expel, And all his people save. O wondrous love ! O boundless grace I For God's own Son most high, Our sinful nature to embrace, To suffer and to die ! DAVID'S LAMENTATION OVER SAUL AND JONATHAN. FROM 2 SAMUEL, CHAPTER I. 19 27. Weep, Israel, weep, for Jacob's beauty slain ! How are the mighty fallen ! — their might was vain I Let haughty Gath the tidings never hear, To Askelon's streets the message never bear ; Lest Gath's proud daughters boastfully rejoice, And heathen maids in triumph lift their voice. Gilboa's mountains I favoured once of heaven, POEMS. 411 To you no more refreshing dews be given ! No more let rain your withering face renew, Nor fields of offerings ever smoke on you ! For you the mighty 's shield, disgraced, retain, The shield of Saul, anointed king in vain. In battle, strong was Saul's heaven-gifted son ; Where fought the king, the mighty were undone. To point the feathered death, the son knew well — The mighty felt it, and the mighty fell. Thy sword, O King ! twice never struck the foe ; Thy hand once lifted, and he sunk below. With you, in life, true love and pleasure dwelt, The stroke of death you, undivided, felt. Now low you lie in death's cold iron hold, Once swift as eagles, as the lion bold. Weep, Israel's daughters ! let no tear remain, Weep your fallen monarch, and my brother slain ! Weep over Saul whose bounty spared no cost, In scarlet clothed you, and in gold, your boast ! How have the strong their weapons ceased to wield — ■ How fallen the great in Gilboa's half-fought field ? O Jonathan ! my brother and my friend, Did there thy life, my joy, for ever end ? My soul is grieved ! my brother, art thou fled ? My dearest brother, numbered with the dead ! Thou loved'st me more than women wont to love ; Thine was the ardour angels feel above. Weep ! Israel, weep ! your loss with mine bewail ! War's weapons perish, and the mighty fail. 412 POEMS. CHRIST'S RESURRECTION. FROM JOHN, CHAPTER XX. 1 16. On that blest morning when the Son of God ? Released from death, forsook his dark abode ; Ere yet the sun had sent his farthest light To tell his coming, and alarm the night ; Good Magdalene, from demons once restored, With mournful steps, drew near her buried Lord. No stone was there ! removed by Heaven's behest, The grave no longer now her Lord possest ! Astonished Mary, filled with pious cares, These doubtful tidings to her brethren bears : " Some cruel hand has taken the Lord away ! Where is he laid? where is his honoured clay ?" With anxious speed, two brethren quickly ran To see the truth— the sepulchre to scan. They entered in ; when, lo ! the linen white, Stripped from their Lord, met their enquiring sight ; They gazed awhile, then mournful took their way, Nor knew their Lord lived in eternal day. But Mary, speechless and o'ercome with grief, Fast by the tomb in weeping sought relief ; And as she wept, and still the grave surveyed, Behold ! in pure celestial white arrayed, Two angels bright from heaven commissioned came To soothe her mind, her Lord's release proclaim. " Why weep'st thou, woman ? " said the sent of heaven? " For what loved object are these tears now given ? Whom thou dost seek the grave could not retain ; Hell and the grave to hold him strove in vain." POEMS. 413 ° My tears are for the dead, the injured dead ! Where is my Lord ? where is his lowly bed ? " Thus said, she turned her round, and there was shown Her risen Lord, but yet to her unknown. " Why weep'st thou, woman ? " said her gracious Lord, " Whom dost thou seek ? whom would'st thou have restored?" She said, " If thou hast borne him hence, ah ! where, Where shall I find him ? I will seek him there." " My daughter, Mary ! " said her Lord Divine. She, turning, said, " My Master ! I am thine." As Mary sought her loving Lord to find, So seeks each soul to heavenly grace inclined ; As Jesus' word to cheer her heart was given, So will he speak to every child of heaven. THE DISTRESSED CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. [the author's second piece in blank verse.] My soul is ill at ease, my thoughts disorder, Tortured with pain, convulsed with doubt and passion. As, when against a hapless bark adrift Billows tremendous dash, and tempest rolls The fury of conflicting elements, Baffled in every plan, and stupified, The seaman's hardy soul sinks careless down, And heedless waits the yawning desolation ; So, 'mid the evils which beset my soul, She flounces on, unheedful of her fate. And must 1 let her thus be tossed and scourged 414 POEMS. By the dread billows of this nether world ? Is it like being immortal to be foiled, To be undone, by things ephemeral ? It must not be. What ! is the contest vain ? A trifle the reward of victory ? No, no, my soul ! life and eternal joy, A crown of glory, an unfading crown, Imparted from the grandeur infinite Of glory uncreated, will be thine, If in the path of duty thou abide. That God, who into being spoke the world, And still, with arm omnipotent, maintains The revolution vast of varied things, Hath sworn by his eternal Godhead high, That he who perseveres in righteousness, Who fights the fight of faith, and turns not back, Shall immortality and honour gain. Unseen, unheard, unthought-of happiness ! Bliss which Jehovah's goodness has prepared ! Rise, rise, my soul ; see yonder blest abode ; Behold the beatific vision bright, And say how ill it fits thee e'er to fret, Or be dismayed, at time's most horrid frown. Put on the Christian armour, bravely fight The hosts of earth and hell ; fear not their strength ; Power, wisdom infinite, are on thy side. The mighty arm that clave Arabia's gulf, Whelmed Egypt's guilty host infuriate, Uplifted, fights for thee. Away, away, Ye bugbears that surround my soul ; earth, death, And hell, are foiled by Him in whom resides POEMS. 415 All strength ; eternal victory is thine, Immortal life, and everlasting bliss ! A TALE, ILLUSTRATING THE UNITY OF JUSTICE AND BENEVOLENCE. [Written as a voluntary essay for the Moral Philosophy Class, during the author's fourth session at college.] In ancient days when great Augustus reigned, And o'er the world his peaceful sway maintained ; Beneath fair Hybla's brow, in Noto's vale, Where thymy fragrance breathes on every gale ; Where fairest flowers their sweetest juice disclose, And every streamlet rich with honey flows ; Unknown to tumult, hurry, care, or strife, The wealthy Dargol led an easy life. No wife, no child, had ever called him dear ; He felt no raptures, and he knew no fear. Luxurious dainties pressed his sumptuous board, And ready servants wait their lonely lord. Deep hoarded stores his coffers safely kept ; In vain, to ope them, starving orphans wept. Yet he was just, as justice he defined ; He brake no law great Caesar had enjoined. With all his dainties, all his hoarded wealth, Man vainly hopes to bribe the stay of health. The hour drew on, when, struggling with his breath, Old Dargol felt the fast approach of death. 416 POEMS. Then high the air his ardent prayer bore, A voice adoring, heaven ne'er heard before. Convincing death ! in thy appalling hour Sceptics believe, and scoffers own thy power. " Hear, Jove ! " he prayed, " hear, gracious Jove ! my cry: I lived in justice — let me happy die ! Send forth thy messenger, all-righteous God, And guide my soul to some joy-girt abode." Almighty thunders volleyed from above, And earth, all- quivering, feared the wrath of Jove. When, lo ! on Dargol's starry glimmering sight The parting heavens gush forth immortal light. Two heavenly forms, in silvery white array, Descend majestic in the blaze of day ; Linked hand in hand the graceful figures came : The husband one, and one his lovely dame. Severe his looks, and yet severely mild ; For on his face his consort ever smiled ; Deep penetration issues from his eyes, That all imposture, all pretext defies. A starry sword his golden baldric stayed, All-weighing scales his dexter-hand displayed. High on his breast, in living gold made known, His awful name, Eternal Justice, shone. All-lovely form ! to man how matchless fair ! Love, pity, mercy, marked his consort's air ; O'er all the earth her clement glances run, POEMS. 417 And scatter blessings like the blessing sun. Her air, her attitude, her looks, confess Herself unblest, while one her hand might bless. On her fair form great Justice ever smiled, Restrained her hand, or marked the worthy child. Her' graceful arm sustained a fruitful vine: " Come, child of sorrow!" blissful letters shine. No name she bore, denied to earthly fame ; But, who could doubt ? Benevolence was her name. The pair approached; earth smiled with their array, That blazed on Dargol more than mortal day. He viewed the forms — no fear his bosom felt ; There, all-sufficient, fancied justice dwelt. And thus he said : " Ye blest celestial pair, Come ye to lead me from the realms of care ? To waft my soul to some joy-girt abode, Prepared for virtue by the righteous God ? I have deserved; in early virtue schooled, Unbending justice all my actions ruled.'' " Presumption cease ! " stern Justice now began, While heavenly wrath o'er all his visage ran ; " How darest thou proudly in our presence stand, And ask our guidance to the heavenly land ? Foul with injustice, dread our heavenly ire, And dread the waves of ever-boiling fire." The lovely queen now smiled with pitying grace, And awful Justice cleared his frowning face ; So the dear child, when frowns its sire array, Smiles in his face, and all his wrath's away. 418 POEMS. Undaunted yet, the prideful Dargol gazed, While from his eyes revengeful anger blazed, And thus replied : " Why namest thou me unjust ? Have e'er I stolen, or e'er betrayed my trust ? Lives there on earth who can of Dargol say, ' He used my goods, but did not quickly pay ?' Did e'er the sun from yonder west retire Before my hand discharged the workman's hire ? What court can say I once proposed a cause, A cause unjustified by Caesar's laws ?'' " Man, self-deceived ! " the awful form replies, And on his consort turns his peaceful eyes ; " 'Gainst her, old Dargol, thy offence is great, And who offends her justifies my hate. Know then, unjust, know and repent thy crime, While mercy stays thee on the brink of time ; Ere yonder globe of heaven-enkindled flame Gazed on the earth, or warmed the starry frame ; Ere labouring chaos heard the plastic word, Or infant worlds smiled homage to their lord ; Ere praise create swelled round the eternal throne, Or burning seraph's dazzling glory shone, With me, united in eternal tie, Dwelt fair Benevolence, fairest of the sky ; In soul, in heart, in every act the same, Though two in form, and separate in name. Who frowns on her my awful sword must know, Or tears repentant stay the righteous blow. Ah ! trembling Dargol, hoary in thy guilt, Thy stony heart benevolence never felt. POEMS. 419 The orphan wept, the widowed mother moaned ; The maimed, diseased, the hoary helpless, groaned. In vain they groan ; the tears unheeded flow ; Thy lonely heart ne'er felt a brother's woe ; Thy careless hand ne'er dried the orphan's tears, Soothed weary age, or stilled the widow's fears. The fainting traveller saw thy splendid dome ; He came in hope, but found no traveller's home. His feeble step stole from thy graceless door, With disappointment feebler than before. Damp, plagueful night his glimmering soul supprest, He breathed his life, a life thou shouldst have blest. " A virtuous female sighed a lonely life, Designed for thee, a happy smiling wife ; But, mailed in self 'gainst every kindred sigh, Thou leftst the lovely weeping maid to die. Hark ! on the troubled blast, her lonely moan Still swells with woe, and bids thy life atone. : ' Mark, by yon hut, sad on the smiling plain, All-lone in grief, a hoary virtuous swain. To thee well known was his unhappy son ; His wants well known, his matchless worth begun. Ah ! most unjust, how could thy hand forbear To lift young genius struggling with despair ! Severe he struggled, poor, without a friend, To vanquish nature, and attain his end. Alas ! from toils unaided, ceaseless, great, Disease pale, withering, gathered round his fate. His parents saw him wasting down to death ; 420 POEMS. Poor, helpless, saw him yield his youthful breath. An only son ! ah ! how severe the blow ! In death the mother sought repose from woe. The hoary sire, amid the smiling clime, Like paly stalks that mourn in summer time, Bows dark in grief, and weeps the night and day, Obtesting heaven to let his soul away. " Ah ! wicked Dargol, heaven thy justice knows ! From thy injustice sprang this tide of woes. The youth — his worth, his wants to thee were plain — 'Twas thine to cherish with thy hoarded gain. Heaven gave thee much, that much thy hand might give To succour worth, and needy souls relieve : The blasted youth, his parents' woeful fate, His country's wrong, prove thy injustice great. " Nor this alone ; the slanderer, unreproved, Blasted the virtuous, and was more beloved. Even thy own tongue spread the defaming cry, And worthy men in slander more than die ; Thy trembling household ne'er enjoyed thy smile — The just reward, when faithful mortals toil. O'erlaboured, too, beneath thy cruel reign, The trusty brute writhed in untimely pain; Thy soul reluctant Caesar's tribute paid ; Thy hand compelled — thy heart still disobeyed ; And what to law reluctantly is given, Is given in vain before the eye of heaven. Ah ! in thy breast the awful voice of God POEMS. 421 Loudly condemned each swerve from justice' road. This, wicked Dargol, this is all thy sin : Unheeded spoke the warning" voice within. Dargol ! foul with these wrongs to her — to me, Hop'st thou acquittal at my bar to see ? " Great Justice ceased : old Dargol speechless fell, Convinced of guilt — his anguish who can tell ? Before the heavenly pair his sorrows flow ; His tears, his groans, confess repentant woe. Remorseful throes convulse his ancient frame ; His face adheres to earth with conscious shame. As when the flames, driven through the wasted brake, With sudden fury, wake the careless snake, Convulsed a moment ere its life expires, It writhes, it tosses, in the deathful fires ; So writhed old Dargol, struggling in his grief, But heaven designed his anguished soul relief. Benevolence wept ; immortal Pity sighs, " No wretch repentant in my presence dies." She raised the wight, composed his troubled soul, And thus her words in heavenly sweetness roll : " Thy life's prolonged : go, man, unhoard thy store ; The wretched comfort, and thy God adore. Obey the law graven on thy heart alone — The law which tries thee at the eternal throne." The blessed accents cease, and high in air, 422 poems. In godlike motion, soar the faithful pair ; The starry dwellers hymn them as they fly, Till heaven receives them, veiled from mortal eye ; Heaven heard their words, " A mortal turned to love," And joy superior filled the courts ahove. SPRING RETURNED. Now gloomy winter hides his head, With all his ghastly-looking train, And living nature, from her bed, Refreshed and vigorous clothes the plain. The genial sun with kinder ray, Awakes the slumbers of the year, And starting beauties, young and gay, The gladdening face of nature cheer. The infant leaf, nursed on the tree, Foretells the glory of the grove ; The flowery graces paint the lea, And tempt the youthful step to rove. The new-born incense, grateful smell, Floats on the softly-sighing gale ; The river now, with gentler swell, Glides murmuring through the peaceful vale. In joy elate, the feathered throng Confess the cheering voice of spring ; poems. 423 With heaven-taught aim they swell the song", And nature listens while they sing. The frisking flocks, in guileless play, Forget white winter's perilous reign ; The herds released, exulting stray, And hill and dale unite their strain. Man, too, renewed, with joyous eye Looks wide on nature's annual birth ; Sees plenty in her bosom lie, And gives his soul to grateful mirth. Hail, vigorous spring ! child of the skies ! O'er wide creation swell the lays ! On heaven-bound gales the anthem flies, And Heaven, delighted, hears the praise ! JANE. On yon green hill that lifts its head Scarcely above the village spire, Beneath a hawthorn, careless laid, I watched the golden day retire, And heard the gentle streamlet rove, And gloaming sing to welcome love. 424 poems. II. The zephyr woke from downy sleep, And from its earth-refreshing wing, Shook balmy dews, that nightly weep Upon the flowery breast of spring ; The skylark sang her vesper hymn, And hamlet bell toll'd resting-time. III. Sweet was the sound to labour's ears ! His lifted axe the woodman dropp'd ; The ploughman, glad, unyoked his steers, His love-plight flower the shepherd cropp'd And dogs and men with joyous din, Slow to the village gathered in. IV. The sentinel-sheep watched on the moor, And heaven's bright eyes, one after one, Looked forth, and on her nightly tour, Cinctured with clouds, the moon rode on, And over lake, and wood, and height, Threw her mild and shadowy light. V. And now, the music of the rill Joined concert with the pibroch's swell, That floated far o'er rock and hill, Where ever-listening echoes dwell, And on the dewy moonlit green The -village youths and maids were seen. POEMS. 425 VI. From care and daily toil set free, In sooth it was a dainty throng ; With joke, and mirth, and dance, and glee, And guileless love, and artless song ; Even crazy age young feats would try, And boyhood raised the joyous cry. VII. Yet one among this merry race, Seemed wishful of a place to mourn ; The beam that trembled on her face, Displayed a cheek with sorrow worn ; Her hair, uncombed, hung on the breeze ; Her robes betrayed no art to please. VIII. She heeded not the lover's tale That softly sighed to win her ear, And oft her downcast eye would fail, And shady locks, to hide the tear ; And oft her long deep heavy sigh Responded to the laugh of joy. IX. I saw her slowly steal away, And leave, unseen, the mirthful throng ; And, where a rivulet's waters play, Sadly she strayed and sighed along ; And still she plucked the flowery band, And held them in her snowy hand. 2 N 426 poems. X. Whatever flowerets Nature wild Nurses unbid — the daisy fair, The violet meek, the primrose mild, And thyme that scents the desert air, She pulled ; and where the churchyard gray Looks on the moon, she held her way. XI. Silent and sad the place of graves She sought : pale slept the starry light On the long grass, that kindly waves O'er humble tombs, and sighs to night ; And, from the old religious yews, Dropped on the maid the weeping dews. XII, A hillock rose beneath their shade, And thither Jane well knew the way ; Soft from her hand the flowers she laid, And strewed them where her Henry lay. Henry who oft had wiped her tear, Pressed to his heart, and called her dear. XIII. I heard her once repeat his name ; " Henry ! " she said with deep, deep sigh, And down her cheek a tear-drop came, Too pure for man's unhallowed eye ; An angel caught it, offering meet ! And bare it to the Mercy-seat. poems. 427 THE WEEPING MAID. Evening, with thy shadows dun, Come and veil the gaudy sun ; From the idle gaze of day Wrap me in thy mantle gray : Mirth delights in Morning's shine ; I have tears to mix with thine, Tears a parent must not see : O let me then, sad Evening, weep with thee ! I love thy melancholy eye, Saddening earth, and saddening sky ; And the latest lingering beam, Dying on the mournful stream, O'er the pebbled shallow creeping ; And the dews for ever weeping ; And the shadows meeting fast ; And darkening wood, and moan of nighted blast : Of nighted blasts, by Ayr, that moan While I walk his banks alone, Asking every star above, What wrong 'tis for a maid to love ! Is there aught beneath the sun Fitter than to love the one Who returns my fondest sigh, Who for me would live or die ? Father ! did I make my heart ? Could I turn its love apart 428 poems. From the youth, whose angel look All my ravished senses took ? Is it that I follow fate, I weep alone, and bear a parent's hate ? Leaping from the mountain's side, Down the slope the streamlets glide, Freely mingling, as they flow Through the flowery vales below. Freely does the ivy rest On the bough that suits it best. Happy lark ! that sings all day Notes for ever sweet and gay ; Happy that, when evening's come, It descendeth to its home ; To the bosom of its bride, By the grassy hillock side ! Happy nature's children all, Listening still to nature's call ; Ne'er a father's wrath to prove, Like me, because I cannot change my love ! Evening, with thy weeping dews, And with every mournful muse, Come, and in thy mantle gray Wrap me from the gaze of day ; Till my soul, from thraldom free, Gain the land of liberty ; Where no parent's heart is hard, Where no virgin's love is marr'd ; POEMS. 429 Where no persecuted maid Seeks the night her tears to shade ; Where, before the Eternal's face, Freely souls that love embrace ; All their native rights regained, Every holy wish obtained ; Till my Maker set me free, O let me still, sad Evening, weep with thee ! TO AGNES. WRITTEN AT HAUGH-HOLM IN JULY 1821. One verse sweet Agnes from the muse besought, To give that verse the willing muses fought ; Apollo's self, to end the tuneful fight, Wisely decreed that each one verse should write. Successive thus the praying sisters sung — Kind heaven defend the fair from every wrong; Let rosy health with virtue still attend, Grant her, O heaven ! one all-unfailing friend ; Still may she drink of pleasure's purest streams, And gentlest angels prompt her golden dreams. Give her enough, unmixed with loveless care, Let whom she loves all manly virtues share ; O may they live, sleep, wake, in mutual love, And angels waft them to the climes above ! 430 POEMS. TO MR DAYID MARR AND FRIENDS. WRITTEN AT AUCHMILLAN, DURING THE AUTHOR'S STAY THERE IN JULY 1821. Friends ! deep in my bosom living, Every hour made dearer still, If I e'er, your trust deceiving, Fail you in your hour of ill, On my sun-vexed temples never May the living zephyr blow ; Nor the glad-seen desert river, To my parch'd lips sweetly flow. Never may the lark of morrow Wake me to the breath of spring ; Nor Philomela's love-lorn sorrow, To my wakeful midnight sing. Never may the hawthorn's blossom Lead my evening path astray ; Ne'er the west's thought-courting bosom Feast my eye at close of day. May no friend, with heart-true sighing, O'er my grass-grown ashes weep ; No kindred bard, with sad notes dying, Lull my lonely ghost asleep. POEMS. 431 ON RECEIVING THE WORKS OF SPENCER, « DE LE~ GIBUS HEBR^EORUM," &c* [Soon after the Author joined the Divinity Hall in 1822, he got the works of Spenser the poet, as he thought, from the Hall Library ; and on his entering his lodgings with them, said to his brother, with great joy, " I have got Spenser's works at last," and immediately sat down to read them ; but on opening the book, and casting his eye over its pages, he looked up and exclaimed, in sad disappoint- ment, " This is not Spenser the poet ;" and instantly shut it again, and wrote the following lines.] With care and cost and anxious hope, I sought For Spenser's Works, and Spencer's Works I got ; " Heaven bless the day ! " I cried, " heaven bless the hour, That guides my feet to Spenser's blissful bower ! Welcome, sweet bard ! with all thy fairy scene, Thy witching grots, and lawns for ever green. Long have I sought to trace thy flowery way, And hear the music of thy wild sweet lay. Much have I heard, how, by thy muse-taught mind, Britannia's rudest song was first refined ; How Milton's soul, with all its young desires, Drank of thy wells, glowed at thy hallowed fires ; And how the bard, to every season dear, The Scottish Thomson, in his early year, Would wander oft o'er thy rich painted scene, And study nature in ' The Faery Queen.' One precious hour thy fancy-page I turned ; And since, to see thee, all my bosom burned. * Instead of the Works of Spenser the poet, after a long search for the poet's works. 432 poems. Welcome, sweet bard ! welcome thy mazy lay ! With thee I'll dream the happy hours away." With sweetest hope I oped the ancient book, And o'er the pages cast a filial look ; When, cruel fate ! no Muses there I saw ; But Cambridge Spencer's terms of Jewish law. What bitter tides a moment whelmed my soul, When I had hoped the sweetest streams to roll ! THE AFRICAN MAID. On the fierce savage cliffs that look down on the flood, Where to ocean the dark waves of Gambia haste, All-lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, Gazing sad on the deep and the wide roaring waste. A 'bark for Columbia hung far on the tide ; And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave ; Ah ! well might she gaze ! — in the ship's hollow side, Moaned her Zoopah in chains — in the chains of a slave. Like the statue of Sorrow forgetting to weep, Long dimly she followed the vanishing sail, Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep ; Then thus o'er the billows she uttered her wail : — " O my Zoopah ! come back ! wilt thou leave me to woe ? Come back, cruel ship ! and take Monia too ! Ah ! ye winds — wicked winds ! what fiend bids ye blow, To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view ? poems. 433 " Has our set-nuptial night fled away like a dream — Must I never meet more the love-gleam of his eye ? Beneath yon broad palm that skirts Gambia's stream, Will he ne'er clasp my waist, and give sigh back for sigh ? il When the white foot of Day steps over the west, And Night wraps my love in the dark raving sea, No koonting * will sing to the hour of his rest, So far from his mother, his sister, and me ! " And what will the cruel men do with my dear ? Will giants devour him in dark bloody cove ? On his neck the hard clanking of chains shall he hear, Where my arms circled once with the softness of love ? i( Great Spirit ! why slumbered the wrath of thy clouds, When the savage white men dragged my Zoopah away ? Why lingered the panther far back in his woods ? Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey ? " Ah ! cruel white monsters ! plague poison their breath, And sleep never visit the place of their bed ! On their children and wives, on their life and their death, Abide still the curse of an African maid ! " When they travel the desert where thirsty winds blow, May no well of cool water spring forth to their tongue ; In war may they fall with their back to the foe, And leave not a son to awake their death-song ! A sort of guitar used by the negroes. 2o 434 POEMS. " Go Death ! kindly Death ! to my Zoopah away ; Leave life to the happy, and succour the slave ! Adown from this rock will I finish my day, And we'll meet in the land that looks back on the grave ! " There, unwearied, we'll hunt under skies cool and clear, Through groves ever fruitful, and meads ever green ; Where no ships of the foe on the ocean appear, Nor panther, nor serpent, nor white man is seen!" She ceased ; and a moment looked wild on the deep, But nor ship nor her Zoopah the waters displayed ; Then sighing, leaped down from the tall giddy steep, And the waves murmured over the African Maid I HELEN'S GRAVE. At morn a dew-bathed rose I pasty All lovely on its native stalk, Unmindful of the noon- day blast, That strewed it on my evening walk. So when the morn of life awoke, My hopes sat bright on Fancy's bloom j Unheedful of the death-aimed stroke, That laid them in my Helen's tomb. Watch there, my hopes, watch Helen sleep! Nor more with sweet-lipped Fancy rave y But with the long grass sigh and weep, At dewy eve, by Helen's grave POEMS. 435 THE CROW STONE. A FRAGMENT. [The Crow Stone, from which this fragment takes its title, is a large whin stone, on a commanding height on Bonnytonmoor, about a mile and half east from Moorhouse : it was a favourite resort of the author's.] Far in a waste by sombre heath o'ergrown, Some reverend stones their hoary heads display ; From Nature's hand, in grand disorder thrown, They rest the wanderer on his desert way : One doth conspicuous all the rest survey, Which seem to whisper homage in the blast. By Heaven prepared the weary mortal's stay ; Here leaned the wanderer of the ages past ; The weary here shall lean while time and wandering last Hither, allured by nature wild and lone, Strayed, thoughtful, sad, a youth and hoary sage : Old Omar rested on the monarch-stone, An humbler seat became young Edgar's age.* 'Twas their delight to read the desert-page That stills the passions, and exalts the mind ; On both their years bleak Fortune spent her rage, But spent in vain : to Heaven their souls resigned, Serene on earth they gazed, for God was ever-kind. * " Old Omar " was the author's intimate friend, Mr James Dobson, late surgeon, Eaglesham, and "young Edgar" was the author himself. They often " rested " together at the Crow Stone. 4>36 POEMS. Far, on each side, the wasteful heaths extend, And nought of art the wandering gaze espies ; Blue, gloomy hills the distant prospects end, Whose heads exalted seem to prop the skies. Wide Silence reigns, save when the lonely cries Of desert fowl break on the timorous air ; Or when the lamb, where verdant hillocks rise, Salutes its dam, unknown to guilt and care. Such scenes the wanderers' souls were amply formed t© share. Long on these scenes the pensive Omar mused ; Then thus his words to Edgar were addrest : — " Heaven -favoured youth ! to early sorrow used, Early the desert was thy sweetest rest ; Early thou sought'st to be in thinking blest : When giddy youths, in thoughtless, joyless mirth, Wasted their days, and parents' hearts opprest, 'Twas thine to ponder o'er the desert earth, Talk with thy youthful soul, and cherish deathless worth. u Ah ! how unwise the busy fluttering race, Who from themselves to wanton tumults fly ! Their reason lost in passion's thorny maze, No ray divine beams through their troubled sky ; Awhile they rave, and in their raving die. Ah ! there, my son, 's a waste of human woes ; There lions prowl, and filthy harpies cry ; There Syrens lull the soul to curst repose, But in this wild serene the soul is far from foes." poems. 437 While thus engaged, the gathering shades of night O'er all the waste an awful grandeur threw ; Sol's lingering limbs suffused a dubious light, The shadowy mountains faded from the view, And orange tinged the clouds of deepest blue. The hoary fogs low o'er the desert brood ; No sporting gales their flimsy ranks pursue. Blest scene ! that banquets man with angel's food, Shunned by the bad alone, desired by all the good. Amid this dread and soul-subliming scene A giant form rose on the dusky vale, Moving with slow and awe-dispensing mien ; Thin bluish clouds its pensive visage vail, And far behind loose misty garments trail : And now before the wanderers stood confest Its awful face, cleared by a hallowed gale, A deeper stillness o'er the waste imprest ; Fear's paly chilling hand the wanderers' hearts opprest! " Fear not, my sons," the peaceful form began, " The Genius of the waste you now behold : Lonely I live, far from the ways of man, And with myself my righteous counsels hold, Unawed by greatness, uninclined by gold. Where'er on earth no cultured harvests spread, Nor art is seen, nor groves their leaves unfold, There sole I reign, on heavenly musing fed, Walk in the mists of eve, or the dark mountain tread. 438 poems. " Fear not, my sons, my soul-composing looks There to the mind a friendly aid afford. Oft by my heights, or dark-green bordered brooks, The ancient worthies listening Heaven adored, Above themselves in holy rapture soared ; While opening skies smiled on my bleak abode, And mortal eyes half viewed a present Lord. Oft on my wastes commissioned angels trode, Conversed with mortal man, and charmed his sou] to God. " When Jacob sat by Jabbok's brook forlorn, And all a brother's fancied hatred feared, There on his soul fair dawned eternal morn, And, face to face, his Saviour- God appeared ; Soothed all his terrors, all his doubtings cleared. The awful seer, hid in my waste domains. Long to his God by piety endeared, Sealed from the guilty earth the obedient rains, Or poured heaven's kindest showers warm on the dying plains. ****** ******* " Saw Ham presumptuous tempt the marvellous road. Jacob he cursed, and Jacob's mighty Lord ! When, lo ! from heaven the wrathful hand of God, Immortal terrors on his armies showered : Earth yawned beneath, almighty thunders poured, And 'midst the deep, the godless crew o'ercast : Old ocean's angry billows on them roared ; All hell's grim powers howled in the avenging blast, And Saints, in bliss, stood awed at what in Egypt past." poems. 439 MALLENA. A FRAGMENT, Dark was the cloud on the mouth of her cave, And the red meteor awfully flashing ; Loud roared the wind, and the sprite of the wave 'Gainst the lone rock was mournfully dashing. She thought of her love, and she wept as she moaned, All the echoes of sorrow awaking : The cloud darker gloomed, and the main deeper groaned, And the heart of Mallena was breaking. But a star, lit in heaven by love's angel there, Threw a ray on the dark billows tossing ; It looked like a smile on the face of despair, But it looked where her lover was crossing. He stretched out his hand and she leaped to the boat, And again and again she embraced him : Entranced with the bliss, all her cares she forgot, And feared not the spirits that chased him. But loud roared the waves to the shriek of the blast, And the welkin with thunder was riven ; And down 'thwart the wild sky the stars glided fast, And the boat on the ocean was driven. 440 POEMS. OLD AGE.— A FRAGMENT. But should the caterer of death, disease, With aches, and shivering colds, and eating pains, Consumption pale, fever, and pestilence, And all of horrid name, which but to hear Doth sicken the heart, averted by some hand Unseen, fly o'er thee scathless ; yonder, look A little way before thee, in thy path, The path that must be trod, halting along, Bent down with years, and leaning on his staff, Walks feeble, helpless, hoary-headed Age. Start not : he waits for thee ; thou must approach And put his likeness on ; and O ! 'tis sad To live a lifeless life — a living death ! TO DARKNESS. Still margined with gold are the clouds of the west, The last steps of day on the mountains are seen : Haste, haste ye away to the isles of the blest I Let Darkness unmingled envelope this scene. In me, lorn and friendless, the fair eye of light But points out a laugh to a world of proud scorn ; Kind, kind to the wretched the shadows of night, But bitter and taunting the looks of the morn. Come, daughter of night, gloomy Darkness come forth ! Why tarry so long in the place of thy sleep ? Dost thou dwell in the cold icy halls of the north ? Or slumber the day in the caves of the deep ? POEMS. 441 From thy dwelling arise ; thy wings thickly plume, And spread them abroad o'er the earth and the sky, Add thy star-veiling mantle of clouds to the gloom, And hide me from pity and pride's hated eye. Deep muffle the moon in the garment of night ; Roll back from the welkin the stars' twinkling sheen ; By fits from thy clouds send the red meteor's light, And let thy dread visage be awfully seen. Sweet, sweet is thy brow to the soul wed to grief! The broad idle gaze of the world, all in vain, Looks for mirth in my face : I ask not relief : Burst, my heart, when thou wilt, but never complain. As watches the wanderer for way-pointing fires, As the maid for her love by the moon's dewy light, As the sailor looks out for the land of his sires, So wait I the slow-coming footsteps of night. The notes of thy minstrel, the grave-watching owl, The wail of the wind through the sad piney grove, The voice of the torrent, the wave's distant growl, When shrouded in gloom, is the music I love. Oh ! when wilt thou take me, dark night, to thy place ? Where the sleep-frighting footsteps of day never tread ; Where no cold eye of pride scowls on misery's face ; Where death makes the weary and friendless a bed. j 442 poems. TO MELANCHOLY. What gloom is this that gathers round my soul, And darkens all my mental hemisphere ? 'Tis Melancholy in his blackest robes. Come then, dull power ! no longer I rebel. Ah ! I have struggled long beneath thy gloom ; And whiles my eye has pierced the severing clouds, And caught a glimpse of day that dwells on high, Beyond the tempest, thundering, and storm ; But now 'tis solid darkness all around. I fight no more ! dark power, cast wide thy arms? Possess my soul entire ! nor book, nor friend, Nor muse, I summon to repel thy force. Conduct me through thy paths of utter darkness ; Through wastes unmeasured by the step of man, Where nought is heard save demons yelling loud On midnight blast ; through graves and charnel-houses, Where dwells the owl, companion of the dead, And pours her wail on the wide ear of night ; Where guilty ghosts, sent back from Charon's shore, With hollow groanings, fright the wandering winds. Lead me to ruins, where the hungry wolf Looks forth, and grinds his teeth ; where serpents hiss, And all the venomed reptiles festering crawl. Take me to dungeons, where wide-mouthed despair For ever pictures, to the wretch, the rope Of death, the staring crowd, the mortal fall, The naked soul before the bar of God. Let widowed mothers, naked orphans, crowd poems. 443 Before my mind, and let no hand be stretched To help them ; let me see them wasting down To death, or frozen to statues by the way. Let every fair whom falsehood has undone, Give all her wailings to my steady ear ; And let her tell that father, mother, friends, Have driven her out to want and fell reproach. Convey me to the straw where sickness pines 'Mid rags, and filth, and cold, and poverty. And let me see the dear and only son, Unequal struggle with the king of death, While o'er him hangs the mother, lone in grief. And bring me to the cell where madness clanks His chains, gnashes his teeth, with demon eye Looks wild, and tells the saddest truth on earth, That lofty man has fallen below the brute. Let famine, earthquake, pestilence, and war, And every imp of woe, start up before me. And if thou mean'st, dread power ! to sum my woe, Conduct me to myself ; keep me at home ; Portray a body wasted with corroding pain, And wasted more with dark and angry thought ; A restless soul, a soul that sees what men Have done ; that kindled at the name of all The grand in mind ; felt in itself a spark Of heavenly fire, that taught it to despise The path that leads men to oblivion ; Beheld the fields, where Flora ever walks, Scattering profuse sweet flowers of every hue, Before light Fancy's easy roving step ; And hoped to cull a flower that might have bloomed 444 poems. Immortal o'er my grave, and told I lived ; That fire now quenched, these fields shut from my mind. Portray me dark, dejected, flying thought ; Hope bidden farewell, and turned her awful back ; Where'er I lean, stabbed to the very quick, Each thought a pang of woe. Do all thou canst ; But, O dark power ! if thou hast mercy, hear ; 'Tis midnight, and cold sweat bedrops my aching Temples, my weary heart tumultuous beats ; In mercy close my eye one hour in sleep. TO AGNELLA. Dark is my soul like dead of night ; Yet like the night that, now and then, Sees, piercing through the cloud, the light Of lovely star, soon hid again. Why hide so oft, my leading star ? Star of my life, Agnella ! rise ; Brighter to me, and lovelier far, Than she who walks the morning skies. Sweet is thy light, Agnella ! sweet Thy voice, like hymn of summer eve ; Thy smile, like angels when they meet, And tell of sinners that believe. So young, so kind, so innocent, Thy look so full of holiness ; To 'nighted earth sure thou wast sent, An earnest of celestial bliss. poems, 445 Thy lovely, laughing, guileless eyes Are like a glimpse of heavenly light : Agnella ! fairest star, arise, Arise, and look away the night. THE CHILD. Lovely, laughing, guileless thing, Playing round the den of sorrow,* Lightly as the swallow's wing, Joyous as the lark of morrow. Busking now thy mimic-child, Forward now with go-cart prancing ; Pulling here the hedge-flower wild, There with honest Luath dancing. For the face of present pain, Ready is thy tear-drop seen ; Soon it falls — thou smilest again, As the tear had never been. Every moment new thy thought, Every thought as sweet as new ; Nothing lacking, fearing nought, Thinking man and woman true. Happy that thou knowest no more ! Truly happy only then ! Could I live my childhood o'er, My childhood I would live again. * See " The Course of Time," Book V 446 POEMS. INVITATION. WRITTEN AT MOORHOUSE IN THE SPRING OF 1824. In the woodlands Love is singing, Health salutes the rosy day, Hill and dale with joy are ringing, Rise, my love, and come away ! Winter, with his snowy head, To his icy den has fled ; Frost severe, and tempest high, With the shivering monarch fly ; Bound in chains, with him they dwell, Far away in horrid cell. And gay Spring, in gown of green, Frisking o'er the lawn is seen — Frisking o'er the lawn and mountain, Bathing in the silver fountain, Singing in the arboured shade, And weeping tears of joy on every blade. With her forth the Graces sally, Painting flowers with nature's skill ; Lilies dwelling in the valley, Daisies shining on the hill ; And the primrose of the glen, Far retired from haunt of men ; And the violet, meek and mild, Stooping modest o'er the wild ; And a thousand flowers that grow, Where hermit-streams to reed of shepherd flow. POEMS. 447 Mirth, on tiptoe ever dancing, Leaps before the leaf-clad queen ; Joy, with eye seraphic glancing, Tripping close behind is seen. And the goddess kind to thee, Lyda ! comes in sportive glee. Health, the maid for ever young, Trips the gamesome group among ; Health, that loves to see the Day Yoke his steeds on eastern way; Health, with cheek of rosy hue, Bathed in Morning's holy dew. Sighing Zephyr, too, attends, Where her flowery footpath wends ; And from every fanning wing, Dipt in Life's immortal spring — Spring that flows before the throne Of the always -ancient One — Sheds balmy life in viewless shower, Like oil of gladness, seen on herb and flower. Hark ! the sons of harmony Sing the dirge of Winter's reign; Sing a song of jubilee To the Spring returned again. Thrush and blackbird, in the grove, Tune their harps to notes of love ; Tune their harps to Zephyr's sigh, And the streamlet murmuring by ; And the simple linnet too, With beak wet in silver-dew, 448 poems. From the poplar's lofty pride, To its half-consenting bride Sings a song as soft and clear As Ausonia's daughters hear, When the lovesick serenade In their ravished ear is made. Deep in bosom of the wood The stockdove coos in amorous mood; Warbling high in heaven, hark How the silver-throated lark, Hovering on the roseate cloud, Anthems sings so sweet, so loud ! From the dewy hillock's side Joyous lists his honest bride, Joyous lists, or flits on high To meet her lover in the sky ; And the cuckoo, voice of spring, Surest pledge of sunshine day, Ever fanning with his wing Flora on her lilied way, Sends o'er mountain, vale, and grot, His never-changing, ever-pleasing note. Lyda ! rise and come away ; Nature smiles and calls for thee. Wilt thou choose the garden gay, Or the wilderness with me, Far remote from busy life, And the angry growl of strife, And from fashion's rude control, And the tongue of slander foul - T poems. 449 Where the rillet travels through Waste of brown and sombre hue ; Where the canach's silken hair Lonely waves on desert-air ; Where the echo of the glen Ne'er repeats the din of men ; And the hare in safety roves, And the plover sings his loves. Yes, my Lyda, we will go, Where the desert-streamlets flow, To the scenes where love is free, To the scenes all pure like thee ; Nought but holy eyes above, Looking, smiling on our love. Lyda ! there, thy eye to me May look all its ecstasy ; And thy swelling bosom there, As the virgin lily fair, Prest to mine, in free caress, May heave forth all its paradise of bliss. 'Tis morn, my love, 'tis morn of Spring, O'er the dew the roe is bounding; Hark ! a thousand voices sing, Hark ! Aurora's horn is sounding ; And the glorious god of day Starts upon his eastern way, And his golden ringlets fly Over vale and mountain high ; Over steepy rock and hill, Loud cascade and gentle rill, 2p 450 POEMS. Leafy wood and shining lake, Flowery mead and flowery brake ; Over silent wilderness, Where modest Love retires to feel his bliss. In the woodlands love is singing ; Health salutes the rosy day ; Hill and dale with joy are ringing, Rise, my love, and come away ! LIBERTY. A FRAGMENT. [This Fragment, which is obviously the commencement of a poem on Liberty, is peculiarly interesting in one respect ; it evidently con- tains the germ of " The Course of Time." On this account, though several verses have been transferred from it to that poem, it has been thought proper to insert it here entire. It could not be written before 1824, as one of the sheets of the original manuscript shows, by its water-mark, that it was made that year. It was probably written in the summer of 1824, and was, no doubt, the last piece that the Author attempted before he began to write " The Course of Time." The verses and parts of verses that have been transferred from it to that poem are printed in italics.] Awake, old harp ! harp of the North, awake ! And sing to Liberty a song so sweet, So deep, that from the icy hall where dwells Fell Boreas, to where the hermit-cross Looks lonely down on India's wasteful deep, The patriot soul may hear, and burn for deeds Of glory, deeds of mercy to mankind. Wake, ancient harp ! a chord so dread, so strong, POEMS. 451 That Slavery, of fiends the guiltiest fiend, Trembling and fast from earth may fly, and gnash His teeth deep in his hellish citadel. Breathe all thy melody, immortal harp! The ear of Liberty demands a strain As lofty, and harmonious, and pure, As that of sainted bards and angels sung, Which wakes the echoes of Eternity, At midnight, solemn hour ! when spirits meet, And on the destiny of man converse, A bard, high on Ben Lomond's cloud-walked brow, Of holy musing full, and full of song, Wander'd ; for oft, by inspiration led, At gloaming sad, deep night, or wake of dawn, By echoing cave, dark wood, or haunted glen, The sacred minstrel strays, and harpings hears Angelical ; and visions sees, that wrap His tranced soul in ecstasy complete. The lay that shameless venal poets sing To flattered vanity, untaught — untaught The trill that soft and sickly woos the ear Of love, this youthful bard immaculate, By nature's hand anointed, strung the lyre To Liberty alone ; spontaneous flowed His numbers, rough, majestic, lofty, wild, As Albion's own mountains, as her sons Unfettered, and as wintry torrent's voice Loud mingled with the hollow desert blast, And cadence of the wave, harmonious flowed. 452 poems. Careless of fortune, and of idiot fame, That oft, unnaturally turning, whom She nursed herself devours, nightly he stood, To memory rehearsing glorious acts Of patriots done ; or gave his raptured ear To sweet- lipped hope, that with his golden wings, The mists that shroud futurity, aside Swept, to his eye revealing battles fought, For freedom fought and won ; on his own sword Ambition fallen ; and, clanking in his chains, Slavery, disguised eternally in cells Of hopeless depth ; and chief, that night, foresaw, Dawning foresaw, some great event and good, Intent to weave it in immortal verse. Fit was the time for holy vision, fit The place ; cinctured in clouds, in highest heaven, Amid her constellations walked the moon, And over lake, and wood, and mountain, threw Her silver light ; watching the steps of night, Innumerous, from the everlasting towers, The stars looked out ; and on Ben Nevis' head, Proud chief of Scotia's hills, and dwelling cold Of snows, did lean the garments of the mist ; And far and near, by promontory steep, Or threatening cliff, or forest's horrid shade, Long winding swamp, or fearful deep ravine, Gleamed tremulous, through all the wild forlorn, Like beauty's welcome eye in this dim world, The sounding frith, and leaping torrent white, And shapeless lake, and stream, and river vast, poems. 453 Stooping majestically to the arms Of ocean, spreading wide his watery breast, For ever heaving to the lovely mobn. Silvered with starry radiance sailed the cloud, Over Ben Lomond's shoulders slowly sailed On drowsy Zephyr's wing ; his awful head, In dread serenity uplifted high, Around dispensed a holy influence, Seeming so pure that nought but angel's foot, Or saint's elect of God, might venture there To walk. Oft had the bard, the youthful bard, Beheld, with sacred awe, the moonbeam lean Upon this mount ; but never, till this night, Had felt such pious reverence, had felt Within him move such inspiration high. Trembling he shook, as she of Delphi's shrine, When spoke the oracle renowned, renowned Though erring oft ; and turning up his eye, That eager sought to pierce futurity, Thus fervently to the Eternal prayed : " Ancient of Days" THE END. EDINBURGH s PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES, PAUL'S WORK, CANONGATE. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS HAVE RECENTLY PUBLISHED A Sixteenth Edition of THE COURSE OF TIME A POEM. By Robert Pollok. Neatly bound in cloth, -with a Portrait and Vignette, price 7s. 6d. PROFESSOR WILSON'S POEMS. CONTAINING THE ISLE OF PALMS, THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE, AND MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Two Volumes post 8vo. 21s. SOLITARY HOURS. By Mrs Southey. A New Edition in small 8vo. Price Five Shillings. THE BIRTH-DAY, and other POEMS. By Mrs Southey. In small 8vo. Price Seycn Shillings. "2 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS PUBLICATIONS. POEMS BY THE LADY FLORA HASTINGS. A New Edition in small 8vo, with a Portrait engraved by Horsburgh. 7s. 6d. THE WORKS OF MRS HEMANS. A Complete and Uniform Edition. In Seven Volumes foolscap 8vo, price 35s., neatly bound in cloth, with Portraits and Vignettes. Each Volume may be had as a separate and complete Book, price 5s., viz. : — I. MEMOIR OF MRS HEMANS, BY HER SISTER. II. TALES AND HISTORIC SCENES, &c. III. THE SIEGE OF VALENCIA, THE SCEPTIC, &c. IV. THE FOREST SANCTUARY, DE CHATILLON, &c. V. RECORDS OF WOMAN, VESPERS OF PALERMO, &c. VI. SONGS OF THE AFFECTIONS, NATIONAL LYRICS, &c. VTL SONGS AND LYRICS, SCENES AND HYMNS OF LIFE. TEN THOUSAND A-Y EAR. Three Volumes post 8vo, price £1, lis. 6d. DIARY OF A LATE PHYSICIAN. By Samuel Warren, F.R.S. " What is nearest us touches us most. The passions rise higher at" domestic than at imperial tragedies." — Dr Johnson. Sixth Edition, being the First Complete in Two Volumes. Price 12s. contents : 1. Early Struggles. — II. Cancer. — III. The Dentist and the Comedian. — IV.— A Scholar's Deathbed. — "V. Preparing for the House. — VI. Duelling. — VII. Intriguing and Madness.— VIII. .The Broken Heart.— IX. Consump- tion. — X. The Spectral Dog. — XI. The Forger.— XII. The Man about Town. — XIII. Death at the Toilet.— XIV. The Turned Head.— XV. The "Wipe.— XVI. Grave Doings. — XVII. The Spectre- Smitten. — XVIII. The Martyr Philo- sopher. — XIX. The Statesman.— XX. A Slight Cold.— XXI. Rich and Poor. — XXII. The Ruined Merchant. — XXIII. Mother and Son. — XXIV. The Thun - der-Struck. The Boxer.— XXV. The Magdalen. — XXVI. The Baronet's Bride. — XXVII. The Merchant's Clerk,— The Last Chapter. The Destroyer. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS' PUBLICATIONS. THE RECREATIONS CHRISTOPHER NORTH In Three volumes post 8vo ; price £1, lis. CONTENTS. VOLUME I. I. CHRISTOPHER IN HIS SPORTING JACKET. Fytte First. Fytte Second. Fytte Third. II. A TALE OF EXPIATION. III. MORNING MONOLOGUE. IV. THE FIELD OF FLOWERS. V. COTTAGES. VI. AN HOUR'S TALK ABOUT POETRY. VII. INCH-CRUIN. VIII. A DAY AT WINDERMERE. VOLUME II. I. THE MOORS. Prologue. Flight First — Glen Etive. Flight Second — The Coves op Cruachan. Flight Third — Still Life. Flight Fourth — Down River and up Loch. II. HIGHLAND SNOW STORM. III. THE HOLY CHILD. IV. OUR PARISH. V. MAY-DAY. VI. SACRED POETRY. Chapter I. Chapter II. Chapter III. Chapter IV. VOLUME in. II I. CHRISTOPHER IN HIS AVIARY. First Canticle. Second Canticle. Third Canticle. Fourth Canticle. DR KITCHINER. First Course. Second Course. Third Course. Fourth Course. III. SOLILOQUY ON THE SEASONS. IV. A FEW WORDS ON THOMSON. V. THE SNOWBALL BICKER OF PEDMOUNT. VI. CHRISTMAS DREAMS. VII, OUR WINTER QUARTERS. VIII. STROLL TO GRASSMERE. First Saunter. Second Saunter. IX. L'ENVOY. 4 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS PUBLICATIONS. ENVIRONS OF LONDON. By John Fisher Murray. Illustrated with upwards of One Hundred Engravings on Wood, from Original Drawings by W. L, Leitch and Others. WESTERN DIVISION Complete in One Volume, handsomely bound in cloth. Price 17s. THE LIFE OF MANSIE WAUCH, TAILOR IN DALKEITH. A New Edition, revised and greatly enlarged. In foolscap 8vo, price 8s., bound in cloth. With Eight Illustrations by George Cruikshank. In Ten Large Volumes 8vo, price £7, 15s., THE HISTORY OF EUROPE FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION TO THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. By Archibald Alison, Esq., F.R.S.E. LECTURES ON THE HISTORY OF LITERATURE, ANCLENT AND MODERN. From the German of Frederick Schlegel. A New Edition. In One Volume foolscap 8vo. Price 7s. WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS' PUBLICATIONS. BLACKWOOD'S STANDARD NOVELS, Price Six Shillings each Volume. REGINALD DALTON, BY THE AUTHOR OF VALERIUS. With an Illustration by W. L. Leitch. THE ANNALS OF THE PARISH, AND AYRSHIRE LEGATEES. BY JOHN GALT. With a Portrait of the Author. III. SIR ANDREW WYLIE. BY JOHN GALT. With an Illustration by Alexander Fraser. TOM CRINGLE'S LOG. BY MICHAEL SCOTT. With an Illustration by Clarkson Stanfield. THE PROVOST, AND OTHER TALES. BY JOHN GALT. With an Illustration by Alexander Fraser. CYRIL THORNTON. With an Illustration by James E. Ladder. THE ENTAIL. BY JOHN GALT. With an Illustration by Alkxander Fraser. VALERIUS: A ROMAN STORY. A NEW EDITION REVISED. With an Illustration by W. L. Leitch. THE CRUISE OF THE MIDGE. BY MICHAEL SCOTT. PEN OWEN. With an Illustration by J. E. Lauder. 6 WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS' PUBLICATIONS. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF SCOTTISH LIFE. A New Edition. In One Volume foolscap 8vo, price 6s., bound in cloth. By the same Author, THE TRIALS OF MARGARET 5 LINDSAY. A New Edition. In foolscap 8vo, price 6s. By the same Author, THE FORRESTERS. A New Edition. In foolscap 8vo, price WORKS OF THR REV. DR M'CRIE. I. THE LIFE OF JOHN KNOX, containing Hlustrations of the History of the Reformation in Scotland, with Biographical Notices of the principal Reformers, and Sketches of Literature in Scotland during the Sixteenth Century. A New Edition. In one volume 8vo, price 7s. 6d. n. THE LIFE OF ANDREW MELVILLE. Second Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. £\, 4s- HI. HISTORY OF THE PROGRESS and SUPPRESSION of the REFOR- MATION in SPAIN, during the Sixteenth Century. 8vo. 10s. 6d. IV. HISTORY of the PROGRESS and SUPPRESSION of the REFORMA^ TION in ITALY, during the Sixteenth Century. 8vo. 10s. 6d. V. LECTURES on the BOOK of ESTHER. Foolscap 8vo. Price 5s. VI. SERMONS. 8vo. Price 10s. 6d. '■■'■>■- Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: April 2009 PreservationTechnologies A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16066 (724)779-2111 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 014 525 191 6 ifMliliirmilfiili mm lllf-il'wiliiBH- it TJ ft '*i*5 J f }l