No More Learning

UNITED STATES, September 17th, 1796.


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15683
DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
(1823-1887)
N THE life and writings of David Atwood Wasson, New Eng-
land Transcendentalism found a singularly perfect expres-
sion, a fine, clean, austere embodiment, conspicuous even in
that rare era of incarnate philosophy. He had not the genius of
Emerson, nor the glowing beauty of Parker: he dwelt for the most
part in the chambers of the pure intellect, looking from their high
windows toward the stars. He taught individualism, and the oneness
of the soul with God, and the unity of all things seen and unseen. In
him, perhaps, as in many of his brethren, the forces which are now
producing the pestilence-stricken multitude of writers whose concep-
tion of individualism is love and hate let loose,– in him, these same
forces showed their mystical white side. To him also, love was all,
but love was also law; man was all, but man was all through God:
to him also the natural man was pure; but the natural man was the
spiritual man. Like many of the clamorous school of literature,
nothing less than the universe would suffice Wasson; but he believed
that man receives his inheritance of the universe through harmony
with its moral law.
He came into his own intellectual freedom through much trial.
Born in Brooksville, a coast town of Maine, May 14th, 1823, the child
of a ship-builder, his childhood was spent under a double tyranny of
stern theology and stern labor. He took a child's privilege of hating
Deity and loving dear Nature; so grew with a fragmentary schooling
into a youth who began to find ways of his own into the unseen, and
now congenial, world. He passed through North Yarmouth Academy,
.
,
through Phillips Academy, and partly through Bowdoin College. A
few years before entering college, an accident in a wrestling match
left him with the ill-health which all his life hampered him. His
college course was succeeded by law studies at Belfast, but these
were soon discontinued. Carlyle was speaking to him through “Sartor
Resartus'; his soul was thirsty for reality.
Entering the Theological School in Bangor in 1849, he remained
there two years, and was then ordained pastor of an evangelical
church in Groveland, Massachusetts. His intellectual development
had now brought him into that position of entire acquiescence with
the demands of the whole, the Good, and the Beautiful, which may


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
}
1
be so easily confounded with indifference. His congregation admired
but could not comprehend his exquisite mysticism, which bound the
reason and the soul in so loving a marriage. Some doubted; the
crisis came when Wasson preached a sermon against what were to
him obnoxious doctrines in the orthodox faith. His own orthodoxy
seemed to his congregation too much a part of the sunlight and air.
He was forced to form an independent church. His career after this
was largely determined by the exigencies of ill-health. For two
years he was pastor of Theodore Parker's Congregational Society in
Boston. He resided for a time in Concord and in Worcester; he was
for three years storekeeper of the custom-house in West Medford;
he lived for three years in Germany.
Wherever he was, he car-
ried on his old battle with disease; yet wrote and read incessantly,
and lived his life of thought, which seemed ever to grow clearer and
stronger. He was in the ranks of the rationalists, yet his spirituality
guided him always into the serene air of harmony. He died in West
Medford in 1887.
He wrote a great number of essays, which were published in the
New-Englander, the North American Review, the Atlantic Monthly.
the Radical, and other magazines. The subjects of these essays
cover a wide range, but there is between them the bond of an under-
lying unity. Wasson, whose creed embraced the universe, could not
well touch upon a subject outside that creed. He looks upon art,
upon literature, upon religion, upon science, in the clear broad light
of the absolute. His is the temper of a brother to the universe; yet
for this reason his essays lack perhaps the home-like quality, - the
inferior, necessary, limited outlook. They are written in strong nerv-
ous English, in an austere yet graceful style, well expressive of Was-
son's spirit.
His poetry possesses many of the characteristics of his
prose; being the fruit of noble feeling, as the essays of noble thought.
Both his prose and his verse offer an esoape from the heated air of
passion-haunted literature, into the wintry sunshine of a calm and
exalted philosophy.
THE GENIUS OF WOMAN
From Essays; Religious, Social, Political. ? Copyright 1888, by Lee & Shepard
A
N UNKNOWN friend has asked me to write upon woman. The
terms in which the request was made express a spirit so
large, while also it was accompanied by an offer so gen-
erous, that I do not feel at liberty to refuse, though the theme
appalls me. To write worthily upon man in general were not


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
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.
easy; but when one selects for a subject that half of mankind
whose nature differs from that of the other moiety by its greater
delicacy and subtilty, by its grace of concealment, by its charm
that only is a charm because it defies analysis, by powers whose
peculiar character it is to tread untraceable paths and work more
finely than explicit thought, then the difficulty of treatment
becomes such that I wonder at my own temerity in attempting
the topic, and am half inclined to find in my consent an argu-
ment of my unfitness to write upon it. Yet it is a matter which
I have a good deal meditated, and one upon which light is
greatly needed.
At present nothing is so discouraging as the shadow which
passes over the face of earnest women when one remarks that
from their sex has never proceeded an Iliad, a Parthenon, an
(Organon' or 'Principia. ' And when the more hopeful among
them reply, «Give us equal opportunity, and see what we will
do to stop your boast,” the case becomes more discouraging still.
The date-palm is not pine, oak, or teak, but thinks it may become
such, and furnish timbers and masts for ships some day. Why
this false desire ? Why is not woman the first to remark and
insist upon the fact that she does not build, whether epics or
temples or systems of thought, for the very good reason that
she has a genius of her own, and is not a reduced copy of man ?
The statement makes for her, not against her; it is argument of
superiority in a kind and manner of her own.
Let her respect
her own nature. Let her, if she must make assertion in her
own behalf, maintain that her actual performance in the history
of humanity needs no imaginary eking out to bear comparison
with masculine achievement. This I, for one, strenuously affirm.
And in order to throw some little light upon this matter, which
has been darkened so deplorably, I will endeavor in the present
essay to offer some suggestions upon the genius of woman.
The primary distinction seems to me this: that Thought
is masculine; Sentiment, feminine. Of course, both these must
be found, more or less, in every human being: but in a manly
character the one will predominate; in a womanly character, the
other. This characteristic pre-eminence being secured, the sub-
ordinate faculty may exist in any degree of power; no measure
of sentiment, which leaves thought sovereign, detracts from
manliness; no vigor of intellect, which does not dispute the em-
pire of sentiment, diminishes the grace of woman. Indeed, each
I.


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15686
DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
2.
character, while remaining true to its own ideal, is richer in pro-
portion to the presence of the opposite element.
As the eye of sentiment, woman has an intuitive percep-
tion, requiring always the nearness of its objects; but so quick,
so subtle and untraceable in its action, that for want of any
more distinctive term, we can often give it no other name than
feeling She carries divining-rods, mysterious to herself as to
another; can render no reason for what she affirms, but says,
“Here it is; this is it. ” Her conclusions are reached neither by
induction nor by deduction, but by divination. She makes little
use of general principles, defies logic; cannot be convinced against
her will, it is said, -that is, against her feeling; is very commonly
mistaken when she generalizes, and has a kind of infallibility in
particulars. To argue against her persuasion is raining upon
a duck, or reasoning against the wind. She is right and she is
wrong in the teeth of all logic; can easily be confuted, but all
the world will not convince her unless she is persuaded,- that
is, unless her sentiment is won over. She is as often mistaken
as man, but in a wholly different way; for she sees best where
he is blind, and has a dim vision for that which his eye is best
fitted to discern.
This intelligence, so intimate with feeling as to be indistin-
guishable from it, — this winged sensibility, this divination at
close quarters, — has but to be comprehended to make it clear
why woman does not build epics and systems of thought. She
has not a constructive genius, because she does not work so re-
motely, and through such long channels of mediation, as the archi-
tectural genius must. Because she is a diviner, she cannot be a
builder.
Rejoice, O women, that you do not produce Homers and New-
tons. It is that blessed incapability, due to another mode of
human genius, which has again and again held the world fast to
the breasts of living, foodful Nature, when the masculine world
had lost itself among the dead dust and débris of its own labor.
At this very moment my hope for modern civilization clings to
the spirit of woman, to this divining sensibility whose blessed
cannot is the cable that holds humanity to the shores of life. If
woman could cope with man in his own form of labor and excel-
lence, she could also lose herself with him. But, thank God, we
are all born of mothers, and never can quite leave our cradles
behind us.
And ever and anon when the learned scribes of the


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
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-
world have buried the Biblical heart out of sight beneath their
traditions,—that is, beneath representative forms of imagination
and thought built out of other forms, and those out of others
still, there arises someone to say, Become as little children;
go back to the mother heart of humanity, to this matrix of pure,
divining sensibility, and, newly born thence, become again liv.
ing souls. If that command be heeded, a new epoch arises, and
the wrinkled Tithonus obtains the blessing along with the gift
of immortality.
I do not intimate that woman should forbear attempting a lit-
erary career, nor that she is incapable of high excellence in such
labor. On the contrary, I think she can contribute to literature
work which in its own kind the other sex will scarcely be able to
equal, — can give us a literature of sentiment without sentiment-
ality, which would be a precious addition to the world's wealth
and resource. The religious lyric or hymn would well befit her;
and indeed the tenderest hymn in the English language, and
pure in tone as tender in feeling, was written by a woman,-
Nearer, my God, to Thee. ' The devotion of love has never
been expressed in our tongue as by Mrs. Browning in the Portu-
guese Sonnets”; a lady whose genius I value far above that of
her husband, though in the later years of her life she seemed
to have been bewitched by him, and fell to his jerky style, - a
sort of St. Vitus's dance with pen and ink. Mrs. Howe's 'Army
Hymn' was perhaps the most lyrical expression of devout feeling
brought forth by our war. The underlying excellence of Uncle
Tom was its pure appeal to sentiment: just this made it irre-
sistible. Uncle Tom himself is feminine to the core,-
a nun in
trousers. Miss Cobbe's Intuitive Morals) assumes the feminine
point of view by its very title: woman, by her very nature, must
believe in intuitive morals; and by bringing her own native
method to the treatment of this topic can render invaluable
service.
Personality in the pure sense is Spirit without individual limi-
tation. Woman by her very nature and genius inevitably affirms
Spirit. She holds the human race to that majestic confession.
Blindly, superstitiously she may do so; blindly and superstitiously
she will do so, while philosophy falsely so called has eyes to
stare only into the earth: but in this blindness there is vision,
and the superstition of belief need not be shamefaced before the
superstition of sciolism. But superstitious or otherwise, she has


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
the master-key; and man can but bruise his hand against the
iron gate until he takes the key from hers. The metaphysic of
France and England is barren because it is purely masculine; it
dares not assume Spirit, this perennial import of feminine sensi-
bility. When we have yawned over it a century or two longer,
one may hope that we shall return to the starting-point, begin
with Personality or Spirit, and bringing masculine logic to the
service of feminine divination, attain to a philosophy.
All the charm of life is inseparable from a certain fine
reserve. In the half-opened rosebud, at once displaying and con-
cealing its beauty, there is a fascination wanting to the full-
blown flower. The soft veil of purple haze that lies over the
Grecian landscape gives to it an enchantment scarcely conceivable
to one accustomed only to the starry aspect of scenery under
a perfectly clear air. What more enticing than a road wind.
ing and losing itself among woods? Inevitably the eye dwells
on that point where it disappears: for there the hard every-
day world ends and the world of imagination begins; beyond
that point, dryads lurk and fauns with cloven heel, with all the
enchanting dream-world of mythic antiquity.
Now, woman's existence is appointed to carry forever, and in
the highest degree, this inscrutable, inexhaustible charm. Indeed,
when this is gone she is no longer woman, but only a female
animal, or at least a somewhat feeble copy of man.
This pecul.
iar genius is symbolized by her spontaneous choice of concealing
draperies in dress. Mr. Winwood Reade remarks upon the pain-
ful disillusionment effected by the absence of costume among the
women of tropical Africa. The imagination is quite stared out
of countenance, he says, by the aspect of unclothed women; and
every trace of sexual attraction disappears. Without dress, love
loses its beauty, woman her exaltation, domestic life its spiritual
complexion; and the relation of the sexes becomes animal only.
I have seen among the Esquimaux what a sad disenchantment is
operated by the spectacle of woman in trousers. It is no longer
a wontan you behold, but only a lumpy, ugly, ill-gaited, ridiculous
Whenever the dress of the two sexes approximates closely,
woman is degraded; a curious fact that ought not to be disre-
garded. In Hindostan, the men are effeminate and the women
inferior: the dress of the two sexes is nearly the same. Only
courtesans there conceal the bosom; the charm of costume is left
to those who defile it: and in this fact alone a hint of the


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
15689
.
degradation of the sex is given to any who are sufficiently skilled
in interpretation.
It is therefore by a true instinct, though pushed to a destruct-
ive extent, that Mussulman women are forbidden to appear in
public unveiled. There the rosebud must always remain bound
in the green calyx, never expanding in the sunshine. This is
one of many instances to be found in history wherein sentiments
of great intrinsic delicacy develop themselves blindly and with a
kind of ferocity. What is sweeter than religion in Jesus? Yet
we all know what a fury, what a merciless edge, Christian senti-
ment has often shown. Faith in Mohammed was preached with
the scimitar, faith in Christ with the fagot and rack; and to this
day those who no longer employ those summary methods for the
propagation of “the faith” in this world pay themselves off by a
liberal supply of menace for the next.
But the sentiment from whose barbaric interpretation the
growing ages must release themselves, will guide the ages still.
Woman conserves for herself and for humanity that unsurpassed
priceless grace of which the veil is here made the symbol. A
nameless fascination leads the high labor of civilization: a name-
less charm sustains the dignity of life, which would lapse into
brutishness without it; and this charm hides chiefly behind the
native veil of womanhood. Athens was named for a feminine
divinity; the ideal woman was enthroned in the Parthenon, and
here in Greece told the fine secret of civilization. It requires
courage to say that woman's function is to charm; courage, for in
the meaning often given it the statement is pre-eminently silly.
Taken as signifying that the proper business of Araminta is
to bewitch Augustus, and bereave him of the little sense nature
gave him, it may be made over to the exclusive use of those
who speak because they have nothing to say. But it is the
business of woman to enshrine that grace which makes human
life nature's supreme work of art, and keeps the eye entranced,
and the heart kindled. Somewhere in life itself is the inspira-
tion and the reward of our labor; and in the exalted reserve
of woman, without design on her part, and aside from the ex-
press affection she may draw, lurks this finest resource of the
race.
The perennial interests of humanity may be classified as
public and private, outdoor and indoor: the former having more
breadth, the latter greater depth; the one catching the world's
eye, the other engaging its heart; that furnishing food, this giving


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
fertility. The means of life, that by which we live, whether
as physical or as human beings; the instrumentalities of use,
from the plow to the university; the sustenance that we live
upon, from corn and wine to thought and philosophy,- belong
to the department of public interest: but the inward enrichment,
the digestion, the chemical conversion, the fructification of life,
all its subtler, deeper, immediately vital interests, belong to the
realm of privacy. Now, the "spheres of man and woman cor-
respond to these two classes of interests. Of course, the two
mingle in action very intimately. When some men invite woman
to stay indoors and mind her affairs there, she might reply by
inviting man, at dinner-time or evening, to stay out of doors and
mind his affairs there. Of course, too, each sex is concerned in
the work of the other. Woman shares in all public good or ill;
man, in all private. It certainly imports much to the husband
whether the children of his household are born healthy or sickly,
reared excellently or miserably; whether he is at home sur-
rounded by an atmosphere of peace, amenity, charity, and all
spiritual beauty, or with one of brawl, scandal, and tumbled dis-
array: and it equally imports much to the wife whether the hus-
band does his duty, whether he be industrious or a drone, faithful
and honorable, or the contrary, in all those concerns upon which
private competence and public peace descend. I here separate
these diverse interests only in respect to the sovereignty over
them. The sovereignty, the office, the endowment and creden-
tials of Nature are given to man and woman according to this
classification. Each works for the other, -it may probably, and
properly, be with a predominant regard for the other; for they
are polaric. Life has its uses only in relation. He does not
really live who lives only to and for himself. The plant grows
from the soil that feeds it. “What I give, I have. ”
-
SOCIAL TEXTURE
From “Essays: Religious, Social, Political? Copyright 1888, by Lee & Shepard
ll genesis is social. Every production, not of life only, but of
LL
Al ,
constitution of beings, objects, or elements.
Society, as we commonly speak, signifies relation between
conscious individuals. But it is obvious that every system of


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DAVID ATWOOD WASSON
15691
>
>
relation through which diverse objects, animate or inanimate, con-
cur to one effect, is of a like nature. Now, in such relation lies
the quickening of the world. Without it, nothing lives or moves;
without it the universe were dead. Illustrations of this truth are
to be seen on all sides: one cannot look but they are before the
eyes. As the seed germinates, and the tree grows, only by effect
of a society, so to speak, in which the sun, soil, air, and water
concur with the object itself; as chemical correlation is in the
grass of the field, in the soil that nourishes it, in the earths that
sustain the soil, in the rock of which earth is formed; as loco-
motion is possible only through a determinate mode of relation
between the active power of the mover (itself a product of rela-
tion) on the one hand, and the earth's attraction and resistance
on the other; as the flow of rivers and fall of rain are condi-
tioned upon the whole system of relations which effect the pro-
duction, distribution, and condensation of aqueous vapor; as the
powers of steam, of the lever, the pulley, the screw, are in like
manner conditioned, — so it is always and everywhere: a social
constitution of things, and order and play of relation, is required
for any and every generation of effect. In the crook of a finger
and the revolution of a world, in the fertilization of a pistil and
the genesis of a civilization, the same fact is signalized as the
fountain of all power. The birth, therefore, of the individual
from social relation is anything but anomalous or singular;
rather, it is in pursuance of a productive method from which
nature never departs.
For the method is continued in the production of those facul-
ties and qualities by virtue of which the individual is a human
creature. Relation between men is, in the order of nature, a
necessary means to the making of man. It is just as impossible
there should be a really human individual without a community
of men, with its genetic effect, as that there should be a com-
munity without individuals. By a man we do not mean merely
a biped animal conscious of its existence, but a speaking, think-
ing, and moral, or morally qualified, creature. Speech, thought,
and morals; — with these, there are human beings; without
them, none. But, one and all, they are possible to the individual
only through his relation with others of his kind.


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15692
JOHN WATSON
(1850-)
ohn Watson, whose widely familiar pen-name is lan Maclaren,
is a pure Scot, although he was born some forty-seven years
ago in Manningtree, Essex, where his father, who was en-
gaged in the Excise, happened to be stationed at the time. Shortly
after his birth the family removed to London, where they stayed
long enough for Dr. Watson to retain a distinct recollection of their
residence there. The formative years of his childhood were spent
however in Scotland, first at Perth and then at Stirling. He was an
only child, and his parents were both re-
markable personalities. To his mother's
influence and gifts are due much of her
son's equipment in life. She was Highland
and understood Gaelic, which she used to
say was the best language for love and for
anger. To the observant reader of the Bon-
nie Brier Bush it is needless to add that
Dr. Watson's mother died while he was still
a young man. In due time young Watson
went to the University of Edinburgh, where
he excelled in the classics and in philoso-
phy. He became secretary and afterwards
John WATSON president of the Philosophical Society con-
nected with the University.
When he had completed his studies he decided to enter the Free
Church of Scotland, and passed through the curriculum of the New
College. He also spent some time at Tübingen. Robert Louis Ste-
venson was a classmate of his in the English Literature class in the
University; and Dr. Watson remembers the occasional visits Ste-
venson made to the lass, and the round of cheers which invariably
greeted his entrance into the class-room. Dr. A. B. Davidson, the
well-known professor of Hebrew, made a deep impression on his
mind while at college; and he was greatly molded by the friendships
he formed there with such men as Dr. James Stalker, Professor Henry
Drummond, and Professor George Adam Smith. At the gatherings
of the “Gaiety Club » Dr. Watson used to tell, with the perfect art of
a consummate raconteur, the stories which have been woven into the
famous Drumtochty sketches. He says that the first author who



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JOHN WATSON
15693
made any impression on his mind was Scott, whom he read eagerly.
He studied the Waverley Novels, with their prefaces, introductions, and
notes, and became saturated with Scott's spirit. Another stage of his
development was marked by the influence of Carlyle, and still an-
other by that of Matthew Arnold. Browning and Arnold, and Seeley
the author of Ecce Homo,' have perhaps made the deepest innpres-
sion upon his intellectual and spiritual activity. Thackeray was a
later favorite.
For a short period about a year — after his ordination, he served
as assistant pastor to Dr. J. H.
Wilson of the Barclay Church in
Edinburgh, before he became minister of the Free Church in Har-
rietfield, a small village consisting chiefly of one main street, belong-
ing to the estate of Logiealmond in Perthshire, and now far-famed as
Drumtochty; an uncle of his had been parish minister there at the
time of the Disruption in 1843. The work amongst this people of
primitive instincts, and simple fundamental needs, proved congenial;
and he made a close study of them with a half-formed intention of
using the material. But self-distrust and various plans intervening,
his literary sc mes were laid aside and were discarded, as the years
distanced him from these early scenes and experiences. His gifts as
a brilliant preacher could not be hid under a bushel; and two and a
half years were all that he was permitted to spend at Logiealmond.
Calls multiplied, and became insistent, until he ultimately accepted
one from St. Matthew's in Glasgow, where he became the colleague
of Dr. Samuel Miller, whose pulpit is now celebrated as that of Dr.
James Stalker.
But he found his true sphere, when, three years later, he became
minister of Sefton Park Presbyterian Church, Liverpool. This took
place in 1880; and Dr. Watson still remains the pastor of that church.
His liberal views and catholicity of thought, his geniality and bright,
winning disposition, have drawn to him men of all schools; and
young men especially find a haven in Sefton Park for their varied
intellectual cravings and aspirations. Dr. Watson's church is con-
stantly crowded by one of the largest and most influential congrega-
tions in Liverpool; and among the younger generation of English
preachers Dr. Watson holds a foremost place. He is a speaker of
extraordinary force and clearness. He mingles culture and devotion
with a strong sense of reverence and a deep-seated earnestness,
which enable him to wield immense power over great masses of
people. In 1896 the University of St. Andrew's conferred the degree
of D. D. upon him. In the same year he visited the United States,
delivered the Lyman Beecher Lectures at Yale, since published as
(The Mind of the Master,' and was heard throughout the country as
lecturer and reader from his own works,


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JOHN WATSON
(
Dr. Watson's literary plans of early years, when his young, alert
mind was casting around for material to fasten upon for future de-
velopments, had been laid aside, and treated as dreams of a pre-
sumptuous youth. Up to 1894 he was quite unknown to the public
as an author; and yet, in little more than a year after the publication
of his first volume, Beside the Bonnie Brier Bush, the sales had
exceeded in England and America 200,000 copies.
Much curiosity prevailed in England while the stories were ap-
pearing serially in the British Weekly under the pen-name “lan
Maclaren” (Ian, Gaelic for John, and Maclaren, his mother's maiden
name); and not until a month after the book had been published,
was the author's identity discovered. A year later, another volume
of Drumtochty sketches, entitled “The Days of Auld Lang Syne,'
dealing with the same characters and scenes, was published with
similar success. A small volume of consecutive sermons, applicable
to the communion season, was issued at the beginning of 1896 under
the title “The Upper Room'; and a large volume of discourses on
practical religious themes, called The Mind of the Master,' appeared
in the spring of the same year.
In his first novel, Kate Carnegie,'
Dr. Watson is wise in keeping to Drumtochty, and introducing a
number of new characters, while bringing his readers into touch with
others pleasantly familiar. In the central character, the young min-
ister Carmichael, who figures already in His Mother's Sermon,' one
perceives a strong element of spiritual autobiography.
No real person, living or dead, has been drawn in these Drum-
tochty stories. When types have been suggested to the mind of the
author, they have been so idealized as to be beyond recognition in
the original.
Ian Maclaren differs from Mr. Barrie and Mr. Crockett in being
more of a sentimentalist. There is a deeper thrill of religious emo-
tion in his work; more of what Matthew Arnold, in his ignorance of
the depths of Scottish nature, termed «intolerable pathos. ” The
mission of the preacher is evident in his eclecticism; for while he
has chosen to subject himself to the difficulties in the way of han-
dling simple human nature in the rough, he has preferred the good,
the true, the noble, the suffering and sorrowing of his little commu-
nity. Indeed, as one critic declared, there is an insolence of security
in his attitude toward sorrow and death, which grates harshly when
brought into touch with reality. But this criticism is borne more by
his first than by his second volume, which is less spiritual and there-
fore more human, more real.
But Ian Maclaren's power unques-
tionably lies in his large sympathy and enthusiasm of humanity,
which is but another term for religious emotion. The transfiguring
touch in all his characters, commonplace in themselves, takes place


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JOHN WATSON
15695
nearer to
when the light of love and sacrifice falls upon them; (as when the
sun shines on a fallow field,”. to quote a passage of his own,-
“and the rough furrows melt into warmth and beauty. ” Then his
humor,— homely, strong, and flexible as the vernacular in which
much of it is clothed, — saves him on the whole from maudlin scenes,
and the excess of an essentially optimistic sentimentalism, as also
does his sturdy, shrewd common-sense. For pure and dry but not
ungenial drollery, there is nothing in the two volumes to match
Our Sermon Tasterand 'A Triumph in Diplomacy'; unless it be
parts of A Nippy Tongue,' where Ian Maclaren comes
Galt than any of his contemporaries, Mr. Barrie himself not excepted.
And it is the introduction of this perfect character, Jamie Soutar,
into A Servant Lass) which prevents it from becoming too depress-
ingly sad, and gives us Ian Maclaren at his best throughout one
whole story.
Popular favor however is not always guided by artistic principles;
and for obvious reasons the Doctor of the Old School' will prob-
ably continue to hold a first place, and in that section of the “Bon-
nie Brier Bush' the chapter entitled The Doctor's Last Journey'
will always stir the emotions most deeply. The pathos of the clos-
ing scenes is almost unbearable, and no Scotsman can read them
with a dry heart. A Doctor of the Old School' has been issued
in separate book form, with illustrations from drawings made at Drum-
tochty; and also contains a preface by the author.
A TRIUMPH IN DIPLOMACY
Reprinted by permission, from Days of Auld Lang Syne,) by lan Maclaren.
Copyright 1895, by John Watson and Dodd, Mead & Co.
ARMS
F
were held on lease in Drumtochty, and according to a
good old custom descended from father to son; so that some
of the farmers' forbears had been tenants as long as Lord
Kilspindie's ancestors had been owners. If a family died out,
then a successor from foreign parts had to be introduced; and
it was in this way Milton made his appearance, and scandalized
the Glen with a new religion. It happened also in our time that
Gormack, having quarreled with the factor about a feeding-byre
he wanted built, flung up his lease in a huff; and it was taken at
an enormous increase by a guileless tradesman from Muirtown,
who had made his money by selling pigs ” (crockery-ware), and
believed that agriculture came by inspiration. Optimists expected


## p. 15696 (#654) ##########################################

15696
JOHN WATSON
(
that his cash might last for two years, but pessimists declared
their belief that a year would see the end of the "merchant's ”
experiment; and Gormack watched the course of events from a
hired house at Kildrummie.
Jamie Soutar used to give him "a cry” on his way to the
station, and brought him the latest news.
"It's maybe juist as weel that ye retired frae business, Gor-
mack, for the auld fairm's that spruced up ye wud hardly ken it
wes the same place.
« The merchant's put ventilators intae the feedin' byre, and
he's speakin' aboot glass windows tae keep the stots frae weary-
in'; an' as for inventions, the place is fair scatted up wi' them.
There's ain that took me awfu’: it's for peelin' the neeps tae mak
them tasty for the cattle beasts.
“ Ye hed nae method, man; and a' dinna believe ye hed an
inspection a' the years ye were at Gormack. Noo, the merchant
is up at half eicht, and goes over the hale steadin' wi' Robbie
Duff at his heels, — him 'at he's got for idle grieve,- an' he tries
the corners wi' his handkerchief tae see that there's nae stoor
(dust).
"It wud dae ye gude tae see his library: the laist day I saw
him he wes readin' a book on Comparative Agriculture' afore
his door, and he explained hoo they grow the maize in Sooth
Ameriky: it wes verra interestin'; 'a never got as muckle in-
formation frae ony fairmer in Drumtochty. ”
"A'm gled ye cam in, Jamie,” was all Gormack said, "for I
wes near takin' this hoose on a three-year lease. Ae year 'ill be
eneuch noo, a'm thinkin'. "
Within eighteen months of his removal Gormack was again in
possession at the old rent, and with a rebate for the first year to
compensate him for the merchant's improvements.
“It 'ill tak the feck o'twa years," he explained in the kirk-
yard, "tae bring the place roond an' pit the auld face on it.
« “The byres are nae better than a pair o' fanners wi' wind,
and if he hesna planted the laighfield wi' berry bushes; an' a've
seen the barley fifty-five pund wecht in that very field.
"It's a doonricht sin tae abuse the land like yon, but it 'ill be
a lesson, neeburs, an'a'm no expeckin' anither pig merchant 'ill
get a fairm in Drumtochty. ”
This incident raised Gormack into a historical personage, and
invested him with an association of humor for the rest of his
(
((
1


## p. 15697 (#655) ##########################################

JOHN WATSON
15697
life; so that when conversation languished in the third, some one
would ask ormack what he hed dune wi' his ventilators, or
hoo the berry hairst wes shapin' this year. ”
One could not expect a comedy of this kind twice in a gen-
eration; but the arranging of a lease was always an event of
the first order in our commonwealth, and afforded fine play for
every resource of diplomacy. The two contracting parties were
the factor, who spent his days in defending his chief's property
from the predatory instincts of enterprising farmers, and knew
every move of the game, - a man of shrewd experience, imper-
turbable good-humor, and many wiles,-- and on the other side, a
farmer whose wits had been sharpened by the Shorter Catechism
since he was a boy; with the Glen as judges. Farms were not
put in the Advertiser on this estate, and thrown open to the
public from Dan to Beersheba; so that there was little risk of
the tenant losing his home. Neither did the adjustment of rent
give serious trouble; as the fair value of every farm — down to
the bit of hill above the arable land and the strips of natural
grass along the burns — was known to a pound. There were
skirmishes over the rent, of course; but the battle-ground was
the number of improvements which the tenant could wring from
the landlord at the making of the lease. Had a tenant been in
danger of eviction, then the Glen had risen in arms, as it did in
the case of Burnbrae; but this was a harmless trial of strength,
which the Glen watched with critical impartiality. The game
was played slowly between seedtime and harvest, and each move
was reported in the kirk-yard. Its value was appreciated at once;
and although there was greater satisfaction when a neighbor won,
yet any successful stroke of the factor's was keenly enjoyed, -
the beaten party himself conceding its cleverness. When the
factor so manipulated the conditions of draining Netherton's
meadow land that Netherton had to pay for the tiles, the kirk-
yard chuckled; and Netherton admitted next market that the
factor wes a lad,” - meaning a compliment to his sharpness, for
all things were fair in this war; and when Drumsheugh involved
the same factor in so many different and unconnected promises
of repairs that it was found cheaper in the end to build him a
new steading, the fathers had no bounds to their delight; and
Whinnie, who took an hour longer than any other man to get a
proper hold of anything, suddenly slapped his leg in the middle
of the sermon.
XXVI–982


## p. 15698 (#656) ##########################################

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JOHN WATSON
((
No genuine Scotchman ever thought the less of a neighbor
because he could drive a hard bargain; and any sign of weak-
ness in such encounters exposed a man to special contempt in
our community. No mercy was shown to one who did not pay
the last farthing when a bargain had been made, but there was
little respect for the man who did not secure the same farthing
when the bargain was being made. If a Drumtochty farmer had
allowed his potatoes to go to “Piggie Walker at that simple-
minded merchant's first offer, instead of keeping “Piggie all
day, and screwing him up ten shillings an acre every second
hour, we would have shaken our heads over him as if he had
been drinking; and the well-known fact that Drumsheugh had
worsted dealers from far and near at Muirtown market for a gen-
eration, was not his least solid claim on our respect. When Mrs.
Macfadyen allowed it to ooze out in the Kildrummie train that
she had obtained a penny above the market price for her butter,
she received a tribute of silent admiration, broken only by an
emphatic “ Sall” from Hillocks; while Drumsheugh expressed
himself freely on the way up:
“Elspeth's an able wumman: there's no a slack bit aboot her.
She wud get her meat frae among ither fouks’ feet. ”
There never lived a more modest or unassuming people; but
the horse couper that tried to play upon their simplicity did not
boast afterwards, and no one was known to grow rich on his deal-
ings with Drumtochty.
This genius for bargaining was of course seen to most advan-
tage in the affair of a lease; and a year ahead, long before lease
had been mentioned, a cannie ” man like Hillocks would be pre-
paring for the campaign. Broken panes of glass in the stable
were stuffed with straw after a very generous fashion; cracks in
a byre door were clouted over with large pieces of white wood;
rickety palings were ostentatiously supported; and the interior
of Hillocks's house suggested hard-working and cleanly poverty
struggling to cover the defects of a hovel. Neighbors dropping
in during those days found Hillocks wandering about with a
hammer, putting in a nail here and a nail there, or on the top
of the barn trying to make it water-tight before winter, with the
air of one stopping leaks in the hope of keeping the ship afloat
till she reaches port. But he made no complaint, and had an air
of forced cheerfulness.
"Na, na, yir no interruptin' me; a'm rael gled tae see ye; a'
wes juist doin' what a' cud tae keep things thegither.
C


## p. 15699 (#657) ##########################################

JOHN WATSON
15699
“An auld buildin's a sair trachle, an' yir feared tae meddle
wi' 't, for ye micht bring it doon aboot yir ears.
“But it's no reasonable tae expeck it tae last for ever: it's
dune weel and served its time; 'a mind it as snod a steadin' as
ye wud wish tae see, when 'a wes a laddie saxty year past.
“Come in tae the hoose, and we 'ill see what the gude wife
hes in her cupboard. Come what may, the 'ill aye be a drop for
a freend as lang as a 'm leevin.
“Dinna put yir hat there, for the plaister's been fallin', an' it
micht white it. Come ower here frae the window: it's no very
fast, and the wind comes in at the holes. Man, it's a pleesure
tae see ye; and here's yir gude health. ”
When Hillocks went abroad to kirk or market he made a
brave endeavor to conceal his depression, but it was less than
successful.
(Yon's no a bad show o’aits ye hae in the wast park the
year, Hillocks; a 'm thinkin' the 'ill buke weel. ”
« Their lukes are the best o' them, Netherton; they're thin on
the grund an' sma' in the head: but 'a cudna expeck better, for
the land's fair worn oot; it wes a gude farm aince, wi' maybe
thirty stacks in the yaird every hairst, and noo a 'm no lookin'
for mair than twenty the year. ”
“Weel, there's nae mistak aboot yir neeps, at ony rate: ye
canna see a dreel noo. ”
“That wes guano, Netherton: 'a hed tae dae something tae
get an ootcome wi' ae crap, at ony rate; we maun get the rent
some road, ye ken, and pay oor just debts. ”
Hillocks conveyed the impression that he was gaining a bare
existence, but that he could not maintain the fight for more than
a year; and the third became thoughtful.
“Div ye mind, Netherton," inquired Drumsheugh on his way
from Muirtown station to the market, “hoo mony years Hillocks's
tack (lease) hes tae rin?
“No abune twa or three at maist; a 'm no sure if he hes as
muckle. ”
“It's oot Martinmas a year, as sure yir stannin' there: he's
an auld farrant (far-seeing) lad, Hillocks. ”
It was known within a week that Hillocks was setting things
in order for the battle.
The shrewdest people have some weak point; and Drumtochty
was subject to the delusion that old Peter Robertson, the land
steward, had an immense back-stairs influence with the factor and


## p. 15700 (#658) ##########################################

15700
JOHN WATSON
»
his Lordship. No one could affirm that Peter had ever said as
much, but he never denied it; not having been born in Drum-
tochty in vain. He had a habit of detaching himself from the
fathers, and looking in an abstracted way over the wall when
they were discussing the factor or the prospects of a lease, which
was more than words, - and indeed was equal to a small annual
income.
“Ye ken mair o' this than ony o us, a 'm thinkin, Peter, if
ye cud open yir mooth: they say naebody's word gaes farther
wi' his Lordship. ”
There's some fouk say a lot of havers, Drumsheugh, an' it's
no a' true ye hear,” and after a pause Peter would purse his lips
and nod. "A 'm no at leeberty tae speak, an' ye maunna press
me. ”
When he disappeared into the kirk his very gait was full of
mystery; and the fathers seemed to see his Lordship and Peter
sitting in council for nights together.
« Didna 'a tell ye, neeburs? ” said Drumsheugh triumphantly:
"ye ’ill no gae far wrang gin ye hae Peter on yir side. ”
Hillocks held this faith, and added works also; for he com-
passed Peter with observances all the critical year, although the
word lease never passed between them.
“Ye wud be the better o' new seed, Peter,” Hillocks remarked
casually, as he came on the land steward busy in his potato patch.
"A've some kidneys 'a dinna ken what tae dae wi'; 'a 'll send
ye up a bag. ”
“It's rael kind o’ye, Hillocks; but ye were aye neeburly. ”
“Dinna speak o't; that's naething atween auld neeburs. Man,
ye micht gie's a look in when yir passin' on yir trokes. The gude
wife hes some graund eggs for setting. ”
It was considered a happy device to get Peter to the spot,
and Hillocks's management of the visit was a work of art.
Maister Robertson wud maybe like tae see thae kebbocks
(cheeses) yir sending aff tae Muirtown, gude wife, afore we hae
oor tea,
“We canna get intae the granary the richt way, for the stair
is no chancy noo, an' it wudna dae tae hae an accident wi' his
Lordship's land steward," and Hillocks exchanged boxes over the
soothing words.
“We 'ill get through the corn-room, but Losh sake, tak care
ye dinna trip in the holes o' the floor. 'A canna mend mair at
it, an' it's scandalous for wastin' the grain.


## p. 15701 (#659) ##########################################

JOHN WATSON
15701
"It's no sae bad a granary if we hedna tae keep the horses'
hay in it, for want o' a richt loft.
Man, there's times in winter a 'm at ma wits' end wi' a'
the cattle in aboot, an' naethin' for them but an open reed
(court), an' the wife raging for a calves' byre; - but that's no
what we cam here for, tae haver aboot the steadin'.
“Ay, they're bonnie kebbocks; and when yir crops fail, ye're
gled eneuch tae get a pund or twa oot o' the milk. ”
And if his Lordship had ever dreamt of taking Peter's evi-
dence, it would have gone to show that Hillocks's steading was a
disgrace to the property.
If any one could inveigle Lord Kilspindie himself to visit a
farm within sight of the new lease, he had some reason for con-
gratulation; and his Lordship, who was not ignorant of such de-
vices, used to avoid farms at such times with carefulness. But
he was sometimes off his guard; and when Mrs. Macfadyen met
him by accident at the foot of her garden, and invited him to
rest, he was caught by the lure of her conversation, and turned
aside with a friend to hear again the story of Mr. Pittendriegh's
goat.
"Well, how have you been, Mrs. Macfadyen ? -as young as
,
ever, I see, eh? And how many new stories have you got for
But bless my soul, what's this? " and his Lordship might
well be astonished at the sight.
Upon the gravel walk outside the door, Elspeth had placed in
a row all her kitchen and parlor chairs; and on each stood a big
dish of milk, while a varied covering for this open-air dairy had
been extemporized out of Jeems's Sabbath umbrella, a tea-tray, a
copy of the Advertiser, and a picture of the battle of Waterloo
Elspeth had bought from a packman. It was an amazing spec-
tacle, and one not lightly to be forgotten.
"A'm clean ashamed that ye sud hae seen sic an exhibition,
ma lord, and gin a 'd hed time it wud hae been cleared awa'.
“Ye see oor dairy's that sma' and close that 'a daurna keep
the mulk in 't a' the het days, an' sae 'a aye gie it an airin'; 'a
wud keep it in anither place, but there's barely room for the
bairns an' oorsels. ”
Then Elspeth apologized for speaking about household affairs
to his Lordship, and delighted him with all the gossip of the dis-
trict, told in her best style, and three new stories, till he prom-
ised to build her a dairy and a bedroom for Elsie, to repair the
byrés, and renew the lease at the old terms.
me ?


## p. 15702 (#660) ##########################################

15702
JOHN WATSON
(
>
(
Elspeth said so at least to the factor; and when he inquired
concerning the truth of this foolish concession, Kilspindie laughed,
and declared that if he had sat longer he might have had to
rebuild the whole place.
As Hillocks could not expect any help from personal fascina-
tions, he had to depend on his own sagacity; and after he had
labored for six months creating an atmosphere, operations began
one day at Muirtown market. The factor and he happened to
meet by the merest accident, and laid the first parallels.
“Man, Hillocks, is that you ? I hevna seen ye since last rent
time. I hear ye're githering the bawbees thegither as usual: ye
'ill be buying a farm o'yir own soon. ”
“Nae fear o' that, Maister Leslie: it's a' we can dae tae get
a livin’; we're juist fechtin' awa'; but it comes harder on me noo
that a 'm gettin' on in years. ”
Toots, nonsense, ye're makin' a hundred clear off that farm
if ye mak a penny;” and then, as a sudden thought, “When is
your tack out? it canna hae lang tae run. ”
“Well,” said Hillocks, as if the matter had quite escaped him
also, "'a believe ye're richt: it dis rin oot this verra Martinmas. ”
« Ye 'ill need tae be thinkin', Hillocks, what rise ye can offer:
his Lordship 'ill be expeckin' fifty pund at the least. ”
Hillocks laughed aloud, as if the factor had made a successful
joke.
“Ye wull hae yir fun, Maister Leslie; but ye ken hoo it
maun gae fine. The gude wife an’ me were calculatin', juist by
chance, this verra mornin': and we baith settled that we cudna
face a new lease comfortable wi' less than a fifty-pund reduc-
tion; but we micht scrape on wi' forty. ”
“You and the wife 'ill hae tae revise yir calculations then:
an' a'll see ye again when ye're reasonable. ”
Three weeks later there was another accidental meeting, when
the factor and Hillocks discussed the price of fat cattle at length,
and then drifted into the lease question before parting.
“Weel, Hillocks, what aboot that rise? will ye manage the
fifty, or must we let ye have it at forty ? ”
"Dinna speak like that, for it's no jokin' maitter tae me:
micht dae wi' five-and-twenty aff, or even twenty, but 'a dinna
believe his Lordship wud like to see ain o' his auldest tenants
squeezed. ”
“It's no likely his Lordship ’ill take a penny off when he's
been expecting a rise: so I'll just need to put the farm in the
we


## p. 15703 (#661) ##########################################

JOHN WATSON
15703
(
Advertiser -- the present tenant not offering'; but I'll wait a
month to let ye think over it. ”
When they parted, both knew that the rent would be settled,
as it was next Friday, on the old terms.
Opinion in the kirk-yard was divided over this part of the
bargain,-a minority speaking of it as a drawn battle, but the
majority deciding that Hillocks had wrested at least ten pounds
from the factor; which on the tack of nineteen years would
come to £190. So far Hillocks had done well, but the serious
fighting was still to come.
One June day Hillocks sauntered into the factor's office, and
spent half an hour in explaining the condition of the turnip
«breer” in Drumtochty; and then reminded the factor that he
had not specified the improvements that would be granted with
the new lease.
“Improvements! ” stormed the factor. “Ye're the most bare-
faced fellow on the estate, Hillocks: with a rent like that ye can
do yir own repairs," — roughly calculating all the time what must
be allowed.
Hillocks opened his pocket-book -- which contained in its
various divisions a parcel of notes, a sample of oats, a whip-lash,
a bolus for a horse, and a packet of garden seeds,—and finally
extricated a scrap of paper.
"Me and the wife juist made a bit note o' the necessaries
that we
maun hae, and we're sure ye're no the gentleman tae
refuse them.
“New windows tae the hoose, an' a bit place for dishes, and
maybe a twenty-pund note for plastering and painting: that's
naething
"Next, a new stable an' twa new byres, as weel as covering
the reed. ”
“Ye may as well say a new steadin' at once and save time.
Man, what do you mean by coming and havering here with your
((
papers ?
(
“Weel, if ye dinna believe me, ask Peter Robertson, for the
condeetion o' the oot-houses is clean reediklus. ”
So it was agreed that the factor should drive out to see for
himself; and the kirk-yard felt that Hillocks was distinctly hold-
ing his own, although no one expected him to get the reed cov-
ered.
Hillocks received the great man with obsequious courtesy, and
the gude wife gave him of her best; and then they proceeded


## p. 15704 (#662) ##########################################

15704
JOHN WATSON
to business. The factor laughed to scorn the idea that Lord
Kilspindie should do anything for the house; but took the bitter-
ness out of the refusal by a well-timed compliment to Mrs. Stirton's
skill, and declaring she could set up the house with the profits of
one summer's butter. Hillocks knew better than try to impress
the factor himself by holes in the roof, and they argued greater
matters; with the result that the stable was allowed and the
byres refused, which was exactly what Hillocks anticipated. The
reed roof was excluded as preposterous in cost, but one or two
lighter repairs were given as a consolation.
Hillocks considered that on the whole he was doing well; and
he took the factor round the farm in fair heart, although his
face was that of a man robbed and spoiled.
Hillocks was told he need not think of wire fencing, but if he
chose to put up new palings he might have the fir from the Kil-
spindie woods; and if he did some draining, the estate would pay
the cost of tiles. When Hillocks brought the factor back to the
house for a cup of tea before parting, he explained to his wife
that he was afraid they would have to leave in November, - the
hardness of the factor left no alternative.
Then they fought the battle of the cattle reed up and down,
in and out, for an hour; till the factor, who knew that Hillocks
was a careful and honest tenant, laid down his ultimatum.
“There's not been a tenant in my time so well treated; but
if ye see the draining is well done, I'll let you have the reed.