Читать книгу Queen Of Science - Somerville Mary - Страница 9
ОглавлениеEdinburgh – Youthful Studies and Amusements – Politics – The Theatres of the Time
[My mother’s next visit was to the house of her uncle, William Charters, in Edinburgh. From thence she was enabled to partake of the advantages of a dancing-school of the period.]
THEY sent me to Strange’s dancing school. Strange himself was exactly like a figure on the stage; tall and thin, he wore a powdered wig, with cannons at the ears, and a pigtail. Ruffles at the breast and wrists, white waistcoat, black silk or velvet shorts, white silk stockings, large silver buckles, and a pale blue coat completed his costume. He had a little fiddle on which he played, called a kit. My first lesson was how to walk and make a curtsey. ‘Young lady, if you visit the queen you must make three curtsies, lower and lower and lower as you approach her. So-o-o,’ leading me on and making me curtsey. ‘Now, if the queen were to ask you to eat a bit of mutton with her, what would you say?’ Every Saturday afternoon all the scholars, both boys and girls, met to practise in the public assembly rooms in George’s Street. It was a handsome large hall with benches rising like an amphitheatre. Some of the elder girls were very pretty, and danced well, so these practisings became a lounge for officers from the Castle, and other young men. We used always to go in full evening dress. We learnt the minuet de la cour, reels and country dances. Our partners used to give us gingerbread and oranges. Dancing before so many people was quite an exhibition, and I was greatly mortified one day when ready to begin a minuet, by the dancing-master 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 the gradual improvement which was taking place in the education of the higher classes; my mother, very willingly allowed me to attend it. The class was very full. I was not taught to draw, but looked on while Nasmyth painted; then a picture was given me to copy, the master correcting the faults. Though I spoilt canvas, I had made some progress by the end of the season.20 Mr Nasmyth, besides being a good artist, was clever, well-informed, and had a great deal of conversation. One day I happened to be near him while he was talking to the ladies Douglas about perspective. He said, ‘You should study Euclid’s Elements of Geometry; the foundation not only of perspective, but of astronomy and all mechanical science.’ Here, in the most unexpected manner, I got the information I wanted, for I at once saw that it would help me to understand some parts of Robertson’s Navigation; but as to going to a bookseller and asking for Euclid the thing was impossible! Besides I did not yet know anything definite about algebra, so no more could be done at that time; but I never lost sight of an object which had interested me from the first.
I rose early, and played four or five hours, as usual, on the piano, and had lessons from Corri°, an Italian, who taught carelessly, and did not correct a habit I had of thumping so as to break the strings; but I learnt to tune a piano and mend the strings, as there was no tuner at Burntisland. Afterwards I got over my bad habit and played the music then in vogue: pieces by Pleyel, Clementi, Steibelt, Mozart, and Beethoven, the last being my favourite to this day.21I was sometimes accompanied on the violin by Mr Thomson°, the friend of Burns; more frequently by Stabilini°; but I was always too shy to play before people, and invariably played badly when obliged to do so, which vexed me.
The prejudice against the theatre had been very great in Scotland, and still existed among the rigid Calvinists. One day, when I was fourteen or fifteen, on going into the drawing-room, an old man sitting beside my mother rose and kissed me, saying, ‘I am one of your mother’s oldest friends.’ It was Home°, the author of the tragedy of Douglas. He was obliged to resign his living in the kirk for the scandal of having had his play acted in the theatre in Edinburgh, and some of his clerical friends were publicly rebuked for going to see it. Our family was perfectly liberal in all these matters. The first time I had ever been in a theatre I went with my father to see Cymbeline. I had never neglected Shakespeare, and when our great tragedians, Mrs Siddons° and her brother, John Kemble°, came for a short time to act in Edinburgh, I could think of nothing else. They were both remarkably handsome, and, notwithstanding the Scotch prejudice, the theatre was crowded every night. It was a misfortune to me that my mother never would go into society during the absence of my father, nor, indeed, at any time, except, perhaps, to a dinner party; but I had no difficulty in finding a chaperone, as we knew many people. I used to go to the theatre in the morning, and ask to see the plan of the house for the evening, that I might know which ladies I could accompany to their boxes. Of course I paid for my place. Our friends were so kind that I saw these great artists, as well as Charles Kemble°, Young°, and Bannister°, in Hamlet, Macbeth, Othello, Coriolanus, The Gamester, &c.22
It was greatly to the honour of the British stage that all the principal actors, men and women, were of excellent moral character, and much esteemed. Many years afterwards, when Mrs Siddons was an old woman, I drank tea with her, and heard her read Milton and Shakespeare. Her daughter told us to applaud, for she had been so much accustomed to it in the theatre that she could not read with spirit without this expression of approbation.
My mother was pleased with my music and painting, and, although she did not go to the theatre herself, she encouraged me to go. She was quite of the old school with regard to the duties of women, and very particular about her table; and, although we were obliged to live with rigid economy, our food was of the best quality, well dressed, and neatly served, for she could tell the cook exactly what was amiss when anything was badly cooked. She thought besides that some of the comfort of married life depended upon the table, so I was sent to a pastrycook for a short time every day, to learn the art of cookery. I had for companions Miss Moncreiff, daughter of Sir Henry Moncreiff Wellwood°, a Scotch baronet of old family. She was older than I, pretty, pleasing, and one of the belles of the day. We were amused at the time, and afterwards made jellies and creams for little supper parties, then in fashion, though, as far as economy went, we might as well have bought them.
On returning to Burntisland, I played on the piano as diligently as ever, and painted several hours every day. At this time, however, aMr Craw came to live with us as tutor to my youngest brother, Henry. He had been educated for the kirk, was a fair Greek and Latin scholar, but, unfortunately for me, was no mathematician. He was a simple, good-natured kind of man, and I ventured to ask him about algebra and geometry, and begged him, the first time he went to Edinburgh, to buy me something elementary on these subjects, so he soon brought me Euclid and Bonny-castle’s Algebra, which were the books used in the schools at that time. Now I had got what I so long and earnestly desired. I asked Mr Craw to hear me demonstrate a few problems in the first book of Euclid, and then I continued the study alone with courage and assiduity, knowing I was on the right road. Before I began to read algebra I found it necessary to study arithmetic again, having forgotten much of it. I never was expert at addition, for, in summing up a long column of pounds, shillings, and pence, in the family account book, it seldom came out twice the same way. In after life I, of course, used logarithms for the higher branches of science.
I had to take part in the household affairs, and to make and mend my own clothes. I rose early, played on the piano, and painted during the time I could spare in the daylight hours, but I sat up very late reading Euclid. The servants, however, told my mother, ‘It was no wonder the stock of candles was soon exhausted, for Miss Mary sat up reading till a very late hour;’ whereupon an order was given to take away my candle as soon as I was in bed. I had, however, already gone through the first six books of Euclid, and now I was thrown on my memory, which I exercised by beginning at the first book, and demonstrating in my mind a certain number of problems every night, till I could nearly go through the whole. My father came home for a short time, and, somehow or other, finding out what I was about, said to my mother, ‘Peg, we must put a stop to this, or we shall have Mary in a strait jacket one of these days. There was X., who went raving mad about the longitude!’
In our younger days my brother Sam and I kept various festivals: we burnt nuts, ducked for apples, and observed many other of the ceremonies of Halloween, so well described by Burns, and we always sat up to hail the new year on New Year’s Eve. When in Edinburgh we sometimes disguised ourselves as ‘guisarts,’ and went about with a basket full of Christmas cakes called buns and shortbread, and a flagon of ‘het-pint’ or posset, to wish our friends a ‘Happy New Year.’ At Christmas time a set of men, called the Christmas Wakes, walked slowly through the streets during the midnight hours, playing our sweet Scotch airs on flageolets. I remember the sound from a distance fell gently on my sleeping ear, swelled softly, and died away in distance again, a passing breeze of sweet sound. It was very pleasing; some thought it too sad.
My grandfather was intimate with the Boswells° of Balmuto, a bleak place a few miles to the north of Burntisland. Lord Balmuto, a Scotch judge, who was then proprietor, had been a dancing companion of my mother’s, and had a son and two daughters, the eldest a nice girl of my age, with whom I was intimate, so I gladly accepted an invitation to visit them at Balmuto. Lord Balmuto was a large coarse-looking man, with black hair and beetling eyebrows. Though not vulgar, he was passionate, and had a boisterous manner. My mother and her sisters gave him the nickname of the ‘black bull of Norr’ away,’ in allusion to the northern position of Balmuto. Mrs Boswell was gentle and lady-like. The son had a turn for chemistry, and his father took me to see what they called the Laboratory. What a laboratory might be I knew not, as I had never heard the word before, but somehow I did not like the look of the curiously-shaped glass things and other apparatus, so when the son put a substance on the table, and took a hammer, his father saying, ‘Now you will hear a fine report,’ I ran out of the room, saying, ‘I don’t like reports.’ Sure enough there was a very loud report, followed by a violent crash, and on going into the room again, we found that the son had been knocked down, the father was trembling from head to foot, and the apparatus had been smashed to pieces. They had had a narrow escape. Miss Boswell led a dull life, often passing the winter with her mother in that solitary place, Balmuto; and when in Edinburgh, she was much kept down by her father, and associated little with people of her own age and station. The consequence was that she eloped with her drawing-master, to the inexpressible rage and mortification of her father, who had all the Scotch pride of family and pure blood.
[1D, 41 verso: The Earl of Rosslyn, who was I believe Lord Lieutenant of Fife at the time, invited my father and mother and me to dine and spend the night but did not mention at what hour they dined. Now my father who had been little ashore of late and was accustomed to early sea hours insisted, in spite of all my mother could say, in setting off so early that though the distance was considerable, we arrived while they were at lunch, or breakfast for anything I know, for we did not dine till eight o’clock. Nothing could be more agreeable or kind than our reception. Lady Rosslyn was very handsome and quite a high bred woman. Dysart is a beautiful place, the weather was fine so we spent the morning in walking on the grounds, There was an agreeable party at dinner so my father and mother enjoyed their visit but I was bored to death because there were no young people. While driving home next morning my mother said, ‘You had better take my advice next time I give it; you saw how much too early we were.’ ‘Pah, pah,’ said my father after a little pause, ‘who the devil could have believed that anyone was so ridiculously fashionable as to dine at supper time.’]
This year we remained longer in the country than usual, and I went to spend Christmas with the Oswalds° of Dunnikeir. The family consisted of a son, a colonel in the army, and three daughters, the youngest about my age, a bold horsewoman. She had talent, became a good Greek and Latin scholar, and was afterwards married to the Earl of Elgin°. More than seventy years after this I had a visit from the Dean of Westminster and Lady Augusta Stanley°, her daughter; a very charming person, who told me about her family, of which I had heard nothing for years. I was very happy to see the Dean, one of the most liberal and distinguished members of the Church of England, and son of my old friend the late Bishop of Norwich.
[1D, 39: The other two [daughters] were much older and had seen a great deal of the gay world, they were tall, the youngest rather pretty. The weather was bad and as they walked for exercise in the drawing-room they amused themselves making game of me as I sat at my work. Mrs Oswald came into the room and looking at my work said, ‘So you are making a cap in imitation of my daughter’s, but you need not take the trouble, for wear what you please, you will never be like her.’ I was all my life subject to sick headaches and unfortunately I was seized with one which kept me in bed for a day, and when I came into the drawing-room again, the young ladies laughed and repeated lines from the Elegant Extracts about eating too much Christmas cake.23 It was hard on a timid girl, I inwardly vowed that I never would visit again and rejoiced to return home and go for the rest of the winter to Edinburgh.]
When I returned to Edinburgh Mr Nasmyth was much pleased with the progress I had made in painting, for, besides having copied several landscapes he had lent me, I had taken the outline of a print and coloured it from a storm I saw at the end of our garden. This picture I still possess.
Dr Blair°, minister of the High Kirk of Edinburgh, the well-known author and professor of Rhetoric and Belles Letters in the University, an intimate friend of my grandfather’s, had heard of my turn for painting, and asked my mother to let him see some of my pictures. A few of the best were sent to him, and were returned after a few days accompanied by a long letter from the old gentleman, pointing out what he admired most in each picture. I was delighted with the letter, and not a little vain of the praise.
