shaking me roughly and making me hold out my frock properly.
Though kind in the main, my uncle and his wife were rather sarcastic and severe, and kept me down a good deal, which I felt keenly, but said nothing. I was not a favourite with my family at that period of my life, because I was reserved and unexpansive, in consequence of the silence I was obliged to observe on the subjects which interested me. Three Miss Melvilles, friends, or perhaps relatives, of Mrs Charters, were always held up to me as models of perfection, to be imitated in everything, and I wearied of hearing them constantly praised at my expense.
In a small society like that of Edinburgh there was a good deal of scandal and gossip; every one’s character and conduct were freely criticised, and by none more than by my aunt and her friends. She used to sit at a window embroidering, where she not only could see every one that passed, but with a small telescope could look into the dressing-room of a lady of her acquaintance, and watch all she did. A spinster lady of good family, a cousin of ours, carried her gossip so far, that she was tried for defamation, and condemned to a month’s imprisonment, which she actually underwent in the Tolbooth. She was let out just before the king’s birthday, to celebrate which, besides the guns fired at the Castle, the boys let off squibs and crackers in all the streets. As the lady in question was walking up the High Street, some lads in a wynd, or narrow street, fired a small cannon, and one of the slugs with which it was loaded hit her mouth and wounded her tongue. This raised a universal laugh; and no one enjoyed it more than my uncle William, who disliked this somewhat masculine woman.
Whilst at my uncle’s house, I attended a school for writing and arithmetic, and made considerable progress in the latter, for I liked it, but I soon forgot it from want of practice.
My uncle and aunt generally paid a visit to the Lyells of Kinnordy, the father and mother of my friend Sir Charles Lyell°, the celebrated geologist, but this time they accepted an invitation from Captain Wedderburn, and took me with them. Captain Wedderburn was an old bachelor, who had left the army and devoted himself to agriculture. Mounted on a very tall but quiet horse, I accompanied my host every morning when he went over his farm, which was chiefly a grass farm. The house was infested with rats, and a masculine old maid, who was of the party, lived in such terror of them, that she had a light in her bedroom, and after she was in bed, made her maid tuck in the white dimity curtains all round. One night we were awakened by violent screams, and on going to see what was the matter, we found Miss Cowe in the middle of the room, bare-footed, in her night-dress, screaming at the top of her voice. Instead of tucking the rats out of the bed, the maid had tucked one in, and Miss Cowe on waking beheld it sitting on her pillow.
There was great political agitation at this time. The corruption and tyranny of the court, nobility, and clergy in France were so great, that when the revolution broke out, a large portion of our population thought the French people were perfectly justified in revolting, and warmly espoused their cause. Later many changed their opinions, shocked, as every one was, at the death of the king and queen, and the atrocious massacres which took place in France. Yet some not only approved of the revolution abroad, but were so disgusted with our maladministration at home, to which they attributed our failure in the war in Holland and elsewhere, that great dissatisfaction and alarm prevailed throughout the country. The violence, on the other hand, of the opposite party was not to be described, – the very name of Liberal was detested.
Great dissensions were caused by difference of opinion in families; and I heard people previously much esteemed accused from this cause of all that was evil. My uncle William and my father were as violent Tories as any.
The Liberals were distinguished by wearing their hair short, and when one day I happened to say how becoming a crop was, and that I wished the men would cut off those ugly pigtails, my father exclaimed, ‘By G—, when a man cuts off his queue, the head should go with it.’
[1D, 31: The government was alarmed, it was dangerous to mention measures which have now been carried in parliament, and a monument has been raised to the three martyrs, Thelwall°, Hardy° and Horne Tooke° then tried for their opinions and defended by the Honorable Henry [actually ‘Thomas’] Erskine° afterwards Lord Chancellor.]
The unjust and exaggerated abuse of the Liberal party made me a Liberal. From my earliest years my mind revolted against oppression and tyranny, and I resented the injustice of the world in denying all those privileges of education to my sex which were so lavishly bestowed on men. My liberal opinions, both in religion and politics, have remained unchanged (or, rather, have advanced) throughout my life, but I have never been a republican. I have always considered a highly-educated aristocracy essential, not only for government, but for the refinement of a people.
[After her winter in Edinburgh, my mother returned to Burntisland. Strange to say, she found there, in an illustrated magazine of fashions, the introduction to the great study of her life.]
I was often invited with my mother to the tea-parties given either by widows or maiden ladies who resided at Burntisland. A pool of commerce used to be keenly contested till a late hour at these parties, which bored me exceedingly, but I there became acquainted with a Miss Ogilvie, much younger than the rest, who asked me to go and see fancy works she was doing, and at which she was very clever. I went next day, and after admiring her work, and being told how it was done, she showed me a monthly magazine with coloured plates of ladies’ dresses, charades, and puzzles. At the end of a page I read what appeared to me to be simply an arithmetical question; but on turning the page I was surprised to see strange looking lines mixed with letters, chiefly X’s and Y’s, and asked; ‘What is that?’ ‘Oh,’ said Miss Ogilvie, ‘it is a kind of arithmetic: they call it algebra; but I can tell you nothing about it.’ And we talked about other things; but on going home I thought I would look if any of our books could tell me what was meant by algebra.
In Robertson’s° Navigation I flattered myself that I had got precisely what I wanted; but I soon found that I was mistaken. I perceived, however, that astronomy did not consist in star-gazing,18 and as I persevered in studying the book for a time, I certainly got a dim view of several subjects which were useful to me afterwards. Unfortunately not one of our acquaintances or relations knew anything of science or natural history; nor, had they done so, should I have had courage to ask any of them a question, for I should have been laughed at. I was often very sad and forlorn; not a hand held out to help me.
My uncle and aunt Charters took a house at Burntisland for the summer, and the Miss Melville I have already mentioned came to pay them a visit. She painted miniatures, and from seeing her at work, I took a fancy to learn to draw, and actually wasted time in copying prints; but this circumstance enabled me to get elementary books on algebra and geometry without asking questions of any one, as will be explained afterwards. The rest of the summer I spent in playing on the piano and learning Greek enough to read Xenophon and part of Herodotus;19 then we prepared to go to Edinburgh.
My mother was so much afraid of the sea that she never would cross the Firth except in a boat belonging to a certain skipper who had served in the Navy and lost a hand; he had a hook fastened on the stump to enable him to haul ropes. My brother and I were tired of the country, and one sunny day we persuaded my mother to embark. When we came to the shore, the skipper said, ‘I wonder that the leddy boats to-day, for though it is calm here under the lee of the land, there is a stiff breeze outside.’ We made him a sign to hold his tongue, for we knew this as well as he did. Our mother went down to the cabin and remained silent and quiet for a time; but when we began to roll and be tossed about, she called out to the skipper, ‘George! this is an awful storm, I am sure we are in great danger. Mind how you steer; remember, I trust in you!’ He laughed, and said, ‘Dinna trust in me, leddy; trust in God Almighty.’ Our mother, in perfect terror, called out, ‘Dear me! is it come to that?’ We burst out laughing, skipper and all.
Nasmyth°, an exceedingly good landscape painter had opened an academy for ladies in Edinburgh, a proof of