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diff --git a/old/56204-0.txt b/old/56204-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ad6de31..0000000 --- a/old/56204-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4065 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Unspeakable Scot, by Thomas William Hodgson Crosland - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Unspeakable Scot - -Author: Thomas William Hodgson Crosland - -Release Date: December 18, 2017 [EBook #56204] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNSPEAKABLE SCOT *** - - - - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - - THE - UNSPEAKABLE SCOT - - BY - T. W. H. CROSLAND - - [Illustration] - - LONDON: GRANT RICHARDS - NEW YORK: G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS - - 1902 - - Copyright, 1902, by - T. W. H. CROSLAND - - Published, July, 1902 - - The Knickerbocker Press, New York - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. THE SUPERSTITION 1 - - II. PREDECESSORS 23 - - III. THE POW-WOW MEN 42 - - IV. THE SCOT IN JOURNALISM 57 - - V. THRUMS AND DRUMTOCHTY 76 - - VI. BARBIE 92 - - VII. THE BARD 101 - - VIII. THE SCOT AS A CRITIC 117 - - IX. THE SCOT AS BIOGRAPHER 142 - - X. THE SCOT IN LETTERS 153 - - XI. THE SCOT IN COMMERCE 163 - - XII. THE SCOT AS A DIPSOMANIAC 172 - - XIII. THE SCOT AS CRIMINAL 179 - - XIV. THE SCOT BY ADOPTION 186 - - XV. THE SCOT AND ENGLAND 194 - - XVI. THE WAY OUT 204 - - XVII. ADVERTISEMENT 212 - - - - -The Unspeakable Scot - - - - -I - -THE SUPERSTITION - - -This book is for Anglo-Saxons. It is also in the nature of a broad hint -for Scotchmen. My qualification to bestow broad hints upon the politest -and most intellectual of the peoples is that I possess a large fund of -contempt for the Scottish character. Also, I had the misfortune to be -born on a day which is marked, sadly enough, in the calendars, BURNS -DIED. So that, one way and another, I appear to have been raised up for -the work before us, even as Dr. J. M. Barrie[1] was raised up to assist -the fortunes of a certain brand of smoking mixture.[2] - -Of course, if a man speak of the Scotch in any but the most dulcet tones -he invites the onslaught of a thousand witty pens. The bare title of -the present essay is pronounced by good judges to be uncomplimentary -to Scotland, and I can well imagine that since its announcement Drs. -Lang, Archer, Robertson Nicoll, Ross, and Hamish Hendry, together with -a base residuum of anonymous reviewers, have made a point of sleeping -in their clothes in order that they might be “ready, aye ready,” to -deal faithfully with the haughty Southron at the earliest possible -moment. I like to think, however, that Dr. Lang, who, with true Scottish -shrewdness, avowed himself but yesterday a convinced crystal-gazer,[3] -has had due prevision of the friendliness of my intentions. Were I -disposed to bloody battle, I might have opened fire by remarking in hot -type that if you scratch a Scotchman you will find a very low person -indeed. Or I could have thrown from my pompom that shining projectile: - - False Scot - Sold his king - For a groat. - -But who, that has a feeling for warfare, would fight with a Scotchman? -Such a one, I hope, does not breathe; the plain fact being that if a Scot -beats you, he beats you; whereas, if you begin to beat a Scot, he will -assuredly bawl, in the King’s name, for the law. “Hech, sirs, rin for the -polis. Ah’m gettin’ whupped!” Let us therefore continue our discourse -amicably. - -Your proper child of Caledonia believes in his bones that he is the salt -of the earth. Prompted by a glozing pride, not to say by a black and -consuming avarice, he has proclaimed his saltiness from the house-tops -in and out of season, unblushingly, assiduously, and with results which -have no doubt been most satisfactory from his own point of view. There -is nothing creditable to the race of men, from filial piety to a pretty -taste in claret, which he has not sedulously advertised as a virtue -peculiar to himself. This arrogation has served him passing well. It has -brought him into unrivalled esteem. He is the one species of human animal -that is taken by all the world to be fifty per cent cleverer and pluckier -and honester than the facts warrant. He is the daw with a peacock’s tail -of his own painting. He is the ass who has been at pains to cultivate -the convincing roar of a lion. He is the fine gentleman whose father -toils with a muck-fork. And, to have done with parable, he is the clumsy -lout from Tullietudlescleugh, who, after a childhood of intimacy with -the crudest sort of poverty, and twelve months at “the college” on -moneys wrung from the diet of his family,[4] drops his threadbare kilt -and comes South in a slop suit to instruct the English in the arts of -civilisation and in the English language. And because he is Scotch, and -the Scotch superstition is heavy on our Southern lands, England will -forthwith give him a chance; for an English chance is his birthright. -Soon, forbye, shall he be living in “chambers” and writing idiot books. -Or he shall swell and hector and fume in the sub-editor’s room of a -halfpenny paper. Or a pompous and gravel-blind city house shall grapple -him to its soul in the capacity of confidential clerk. Or he shall be -cashier in a jam factory, or “boo and boo” behind a mercer’s counter, or -“wait on” in a coffee tavern, or, for that matter, soak away his chapped -spirit in the four-ale bars off Fleet Street. Hence, as an elegant writer -in one of the weekly reviews puts it, the Englishman “is painfully aware -that it is the Scot who thrusts him aside in the contest for many of the -best prizes.” - -When one turns to the intimate study of the Scotch character as limned -by Scotch authority, one finds oneself confronted with the work of two -schools of artists, which, for the sake of convenience, we will dub the -Old and New Schools. The Old School—of which, by the way, every Scotchman -save one is either a member or a supporter—has had a tremendous vogue -and has accomplished superhuman things for the country and people of its -love. To this school the Scotch superstition owes its origin and its firm -grip on the imagination of the average white man. It is a forthright, -downright, thorough sort of school, not in the least diffident or -mealy-mouthed, not in the least ambiguous, not in the least infected -with that “proud reserve” which is understood to be Scotland’s noblest -heritage. Among the choice exemplars of the art of the Old School—and it -has thousands of choice exemplars—we may reckon Dr. George Lockhart, who -wrote the _Memoirs_ and thereby earned for himself imperishable fame. -Lockhart was a “Scotland-for-ever” man of the first water. “As for the -[Scots],” he says, “none will, I think, deny them to have been a Brave, -Generous, Hardy People.… As the Scots were a Brave, so likewise were -they a Polite People; every Country has its own peculiar Customs, and -so had Scotland, but in the main they lived and were refined as other -Countries; and this won’t seem strange, for the English themselves allow -the Scots to be a Wise and Ingenious People, for say they to a Proverb, -‘_They never knew a_ Scots _Man a Fool_.’ And if so, what should hinder -them from being as well bred and civilised as any other People? Those of -Rank (as they still do) travelled Abroad into foreign Countries for their -Improvement, and vast numbers, when their Country at home did not require -their services [mark the fine sophistry] went into that of foreign -Princes, from whence after they had gained immortal Honour and Glory, -they returned home; and as it is obvious that at this very time (which -must chiefly proceed from this humour of Travelling) the Scotch Gentry -do far exceed those of England, so that in the one you shall find all -the accomplishments of well-bred gentleman, and in your country English -Esquires all the Barbarity imaginable.”[5] Thus Dr. George Lockhart, -two hundred years ago. ’Tis a fair picture and a winning, if a trifle -overstated. There stands your brilliant, and at the same time unassuming, -figure of a Scotchman—“brave,” “generous,” “hardy,” “polite,” “refined,” -“not a fool,” “well bred,” “civilised,” “travelled,” “wise,” “ingenious,” -and immortally “honourable” and “glorious.” Who can withstand him? Who -would deny him the look of love, the patriot glow? Certainly not the -men of his own blood, who have their livings to get. Certainly not the -Scotchman, who perceives, by favour of Dr. Lockhart, his own impeccable -sonsie self done to the life. To this day the artists of the Old School -continue to paint the same inspiring portrait, and if you look into the -latest replica, by no less judicial a hand than that of Dr. John Hill -Burton[6] you shall discover the undying lineaments, bespeaking the -undying virtues, and composed sweetly to the purposes of the undying -advertisement. - -So much for the Old School. As for the New School, I take credit that it -is a discovery of my own. It consists of one man only. He is a Scotchman, -and his name is William Robertson Nicoll. Dr. Nicoll is the editor of -the _British Weekly_. He also edits the _Bookman_, and lounges round -letters in a paper called the _Sketch_. Some time ago this great and good -Scotchman was accused of indulging in too many literary aliases. We were -then informed by a _protégé_ of his that it would be well for us to lift -reverent eyes and behold in Dr. William Robertson Nicoll “a force in -letters”—“the only force, some of us think,” added the incense-breathing -_protégé_. We looked and beheld. Also we read, in _Who’s Who_, that Dr. -Nicoll was the author of _The Lamb of God_, _The Key of the Grave_, -_The Incarnate Saviour_, _The Return to the Cross_, _The Secret of -Christian Experience_, _Songs of Rest_, and _Sunday Afternoon Verses_, -all, no doubt, excellent and exciting works, but obviously sealed to -a department of letters in which we have not specialised. Therefore, -we took “the-force-in-letters” notion for granted. Our own idea of Dr. -Robertson Nicoll’s relation to letters will be set forth duly in another -chapter. Meanwhile, it is necessary to say that Dr. Nicoll is one of -those delightfully irresponsible literary forces who babble of “Mr. S. R. -Crockett’s _great_ novel _Joan of the Sword Hand_,” in one breath, and -with the next pray to be delivered from “a misuse of words.” - -But let us give honour where honour is due. There are white marks even -on the editor of the _British Weekly_. For quite two years past his -dropsical pennyworth has been our constant solace in times of darkness -and difficulty. Each week it contains a lengthy and helpful letter by -one “Claudius Clear.” Many young Scotch writers have told us in many a -useful paragraph that they do not think they are breaking a confidence -when they say that “Claudius Clear” is one of the pen names of Dr. -Robertson Nicoll. So that on the whole “Claudius” is a Scotchman, -despite the circumstance that he dates his correspondence from Basil -Regis, Middlesex, and masquerades in a name which is about as Scotch -as “Schiepan.” For that matter, anybody might have guessed it from his -syntax. And being a Scotchman, “Claudius” is, of course, omniscient -and infallible. That is where the absurd beauty of him comes in. That, -Messrs. Hodder and Stoughton, is why one reads the _British Weekly_. Do -you wish to know how to run the _Times_? Would you care to be instructed -in “the art of conversation”? Are you anxious to learn what is really -meant by “good manners”? Would you be advised on “Order and Method,” -“Brilliance,” “Overwork,” “Handwriting,” “Publishing as a Profession,” -“Editing as a Profession,” “The Keeping of Old Letters,” “How to Remember -and how to Forget,” “The Art of Life,” “The Art of Taking things Coolly,” -“Turning Out the Fools,” or indeed on any other matter under the sun—from -“Vanity” to “Samuel”?—why, you just turn up “Claudius,” and there you -are; two columns which settle the question swiftly and for ever. What -wonder, then, that in my anxiety to get at the truth about Scotchmen, I -should turn up “Claudius”? Nor have I turned him up in vain, as witness -the following admirable words: - -“In the first place, the Scotsman is a son of the rock. The circumstances -of his birth and upbringing are as a rule very stern. He is cradled in -the storm; he has to fight for life in a rough climate, in a huddle of -grey houses. The amenities of life are by no means plentiful. As a rule, -money is scarce. There are few demonstrations of affection; one is made -to feel that he must trust himself, that man is a soldier, and life is a -fight. [Here, Scot-like, the worthy “Claudius” breaks off to indulge in -a little pathetic personal reminiscence.] When I look back to my early -years it seems to me that the whole atmosphere was laden with care, that -the strain on the hearts of the people was so tightened by the material -needs of those who depended on them that life was a taut rope on which -only a trained acrobat could keep his balance. The result was a feeling -of constant anxiety, a dread of the future. It was haunted by fears which -could hardly be measured, and as the years went on their difficulties -seemed to increase. [Which, to say the least, is clumsily put.] In this -way young Scotsmen were taught to take things seriously. They knew that -their right arms must serve them, and they did not lean upon others. -They were thus fiercely independent. They asked nothing from those about -them—the asking would be vain. As they sought nothing they would give -nothing. Acknowledgment of superior position they resolutely refused; -and they were ready to resent every assumption of superiority. They knew -well that the door of opportunity opens but seldom, and were eager to -enter it when it did open. They knew that success in any form was to be -paid for, and they were willing to pay. They would work hard without -complaining, and they were willing to sacrifice, and ever came to disdain -the pleasures and amusements of life. They had been taught that it was -of no use to complain, and they did not complain. But they made amends -for this by refusing to be gracious, by a reserved and proud manner. -They knew that competition was the law of life, and they were none too -gentle in dealing with their competitors. Those who achieved positions -were objects of criticism, and the criticism was pitiless enough. For a -fight they were in constant readiness. ‘Touch me gin you daur,’ was the -national motto, and there never was one more expressive of character. The -Scotsman as a rule does not take the offensive, but those who meddle -with him must take all the consequences.”[7] - -Clearly, as one might say, a Daniel come to judgment! “Claudius Clear,” -the New School, struts and roisters and swaggers as your Scot must do, -or perish; but, on the whole and out of the honesty of his heart, he -will modify. Perhaps he was not in the best of humours when he wrote -the foregoing. Anyway it rather disposes of the gallant and debonair -vision conjured up for us by the glowing pencils of the Old School. -The generous, polite, refined, well-bred, civilised, and immortally -honourable and glorious Scotchman of Dr. George Lockhart becomes, -under the brush of Dr. Robertson Nicoll, another and a distinctly less -beautiful personality. He is born on the rock. The amenities of life -are not for him. He is haunted by constant fears. He will give nothing. -He refuses to be gracious. He is none too gentle in dealing with his -competitors. And instead of saying “_Nemo me impune lacesset_,” as you -might expect of a young man who has been to college, he whoops “Touch me -gin you daur,” like any common rowdy. When I come to think of it, I am -much obliged to the New School. - -On another matter—a very big matter, indeed, with your common -Scotchman—Dr. Nicoll is equally frank. “I think I may also say,” he -remarks, “that the Scottish people cared very much for education and -knowledge, far more in my opinion than the average Englishman. They -thought about learning as the New Englanders did in the days of Emerson. -The learned man was much more respected than the rich man. Perhaps -there was an intuition that in the end of the day knowledge is the -key to everything. But thirty years ago, at all events, knowledge was -regarded as an end, and its possessor was profoundly esteemed. The -_summum bonum_[8] of the best Scottish youth in those days was to be -a professor.” _Summum bonum_ is scarcely the phrase, but that and the -New Englanders may pass. Scotland, admittedly, enjoys a reputation for -learning of a sort. Once, I visited Edinburgh with a Scotchman. It was -a rash thing to do, yet I did it. On the road north my Scotchman filled -me with tales of his country’s culture. “You are not going into a dirty -English city,” quoth he, “but into a centre of light and leading. Every -man, woman, and child in ‘aud Immemour’ can at least read, and every -publican in the place keeps a set of _Chambers’s Encyclopædia_, a copy of -Fox’s _Book of Martyrs_, and plenty of back numbers of the _Nineteenth -Century_, just as an English publican keeps for the use of his customers -the _Post Office Directory_ and _Whitaker’s Almanack_.” And the first -thing I noticed when we got into Edinburgh was a fruiterer’s sign, upon -which was written in startling letters: - -FRUITS IN THERE SEASON - -All the same, I concede that the Scotch really do love learning. I -gather, too, from unbiassed sources that they starve their mothers and -make gin-mules of their fathers to get it. And when it is gotten, what a -monstrous and unlovely possession it usually turns out to be. For your -Scotchman always takes knowledge for wisdom. His learning consists wholly -of “facts and figures,” all grouped methodically round that heaven-sent -date, A.D. 1314,[9] and if you cannot tell him off-hand the salary of -the Archbishop of Canterbury, the population of Otaheite and the names -of the fixed stars, he votes you a damned ignorant Southron, and goes -about telling his friends that he shouldn’t wonder if you never went to -“the schule.” It may rejoice him to know that his readiness to answer -all manner of questions involving book learning is in point of fact the -beginnings of a species of idiocy. Persons of whom this idiocy has got -properly hold are styled by the medical profession “idiot _savants_.” -“In all asylums,” says Professor Vivian Poore, “you will find idiot -_savants_.… There used to be at Earlswood—and I saw him when I visited -Earlswood—an idiot quite incapable of taking care of himself, but who had -a most extraordinary memory. When I went to the asylum the superintendent -said to me: ‘Ask that man anything you like.’ It was rather a strange -thing to be told to do; I said: ‘What kind of thing shall I ask about?’ -And he said: ‘Any ordinary bit of knowledge.’ I said: ‘Tell me about -Socrates.’ The idiot then drew himself up like a child would who was -about to repeat a lesson, gave a cough, and told me about Socrates.… He -knew a great deal more about Socrates than I did; he knew when he was -born, why he was condemned, the name of his wife, and everything that -was essential to be known. This he repeated without difficulty. The -superintendent gave a grin and said: ‘Would you like to ask him anything -else?’ I was afraid that the man might ask me something. I said: ‘What -do you know about comets?’ Immediately he gave me—I presume correctly—all -the facts about the chief comets, their periods of revolution, the names -of the best known, and so on. Nothing that had ever been read by this -patient did he seem to forget. The words which had been read to him -seemed to have stuck to the cells of his brain like so much superior -glue, and nothing would eradicate it.”[10] - -How very, very, very Scotch! Who has not met just this idiot _savant_ in -a newspaper office, at the meetings of absurd societies, at the houses -of uncultivated people? And always, always, he is Scotch. And always, -always, he has that sententious trick of drawing himself up to launching -into his subject by way of the self-satisfied cough of conscious -knowledge. - -And now, to make a handsome end for a brilliant chapter, let us remember - - I. THAT HADRIAN HAD THE EXCELLENT SENSE TO BUILD A WALL FOR THE - PURPOSE OF KEEPING THE SCOTCH OUT OF ENGLAND. - - II. THAT FOR A THOUSAND YEARS THE SCOT WAS ENGLAND’S BITTEREST - ENEMY, AND PLOTTED AND MADE WAR AGAINST HER WITH FRANCE. - - III. THAT THE SCOTCH DESERTED THAT LARGE LAME WOMAN (AND, - ACCORDING TO THE SCOTCH, THAT PARAGON OF ALL THE VIRTUES), - MARY STUART, IN HER HOUR OF DIREST NEED. - - IV. THAT IT WAS THE SCOTCH WHO SOLD CHARLES I. (AND A STUART) - TO THE PARLIAMENTARIANS FOR £400,000. - - V. THAT THE STUARTS WERE THE WICKEDEST AND STUPIDEST KINGS - EUROPE HAS EVER KNOWN. - - VI. THAT THE SCOTCH ARE IN POINT OF FACT QUITE THE DULLEST - RACE OF WHITE MEN IN THE WORLD, AND THAT THEY “KNOCK ALONG” - SIMPLY BY VIRTUE OF THE SCOTTISH SUPERSTITION COUPLED WITH - PLOD, THRIFT, A GRAVID MANNER, AND THE ORDINARY ENDOWMENTS OF - MEDIOCRITY. - - VII. THAT IT WAS A SCOTCHMAN WHO INTRODUCED THISTLES INTO - CANADA, AND THAT, VERY LIKELY, IT WAS A SCOTCHMAN WHO - INTRODUCED RABBITS INTO AUSTRALIA. - - - - -II - -PREDECESSORS - - -From the day he first clapped eyes on him, the Englishman has felt that -there was something wrong about the Scotchman. And this feeling rapidly -crystallised itself into literature. Many early ballads against the -Scotch are to be found by him who cares to look for them. That Chaucer -did not love Scotchmen is pretty certain, though there is nothing in his -writings to prove it. The same holds true of Spenser. But when one comes -to Shakespeare the case is very much altered. There can be no getting -away from the circumstance that Shakespeare knew his Scotchman through -and through. Any Scot who is feeling a desire to be particularly humble -and to learn the real truth about himself and his compatriots should -read and read again the tragedy of _Macbeth_. Of course, Shakespeare does -not count much in Scotland. Whenever a Scottish writer of the old school -has to speak of him, he does so with a grumbling grudgingness as who -should say, “The man was a genius, but not a Scot, what a peety!” - -“Here Douglas forms wild Shakespeare into plant,” warbled Burns. Think -of it! And I have seen a Scotch reviewer complain that a certain author -was cursed with a “Shakespearean smartness.” This antipathy for the Bard -of Avon has often created much wonderment in the mind of the Englishman, -and the cause of it, one may guess, is that Shakespeare wrote _Macbeth_. -There is scarcely a line in that tremendous drama which does not mean -bitter reading for Scotchmen. About the first person named is one -Macdonwald: - - The merciless Macdonwald - Worthy to be a rebel for to that, - The multiplying villainies of Nature - Do swarm upon him. - -In a neighbouring passage we are given a beautiful insight into Scottish -views of warfare. Ross is made to say: - - Sweno the Norway’s King craves composition, - Nor would we deign him burial of his men - Till he disbursed at Saint Colmes’ inch - Ten thousand dollars to our general use. - -“Ten thousand dollars to our general use”! From the beginning of time -Scotch fighting men have been mercenaries, and Scotch armies have -insisted upon fining a vanquished foe. They did it in France; and they -did it in their own country. And, after Naseby, the Scotch army in -England, coming to the conclusion that there was nothing more to be -done, straightway demanded a sum of money in the way of solatium for -leaving the country. “Nor would we deign him burial of his men till he -disbursed,” hits them hard. Shakespeare, as was his way, understood. Then -one comes to the celebrated scene on the blasted heath. Here enter three -witches, and to them Macbeth and Banquo. Macbeth, bloated with pride and -devoured with ambition, falls an easy victim to Shakespeare’s trinity of -hags. - - All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis! - All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor! - All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be King hereafter! - -The man swells visibly as a Scotchman should, and stalks off heroically, -full of the consciousness of his own bigness. And mark how arrant a -Scotchman he becomes in the result. In his castle he has for guest a king -who has trusted him and bestowed honours and dignities upon him. “Conduct -me to mine host,” says the unsuspecting monarch. “We love him highly, and -shall continue our graces towards him.” And all the time the excellent -Macbeth and his excellent lady are plotting murder. When it comes to the -point of actual killing, the gentleman’s Scotch spirits fail him; he is -really not sure, don’t you know, whether after all it ought to be done. -Then the lady very naturally grows disgusted and shrill: - - Was the hope drunk, - Wherein you dress’d yourself? hath it slept since? - And wakes it now to look so green and pale - At what it did so freely? From this time, - Such I account thy love. Art thou afeard - To be the same in thine own act and valour, - As thou art in desire? Would’st thou have that - Which thou esteem’st the ornament of life, - And live a coward in thine own esteem; - Letting I dare not wait upon I would, - Like the poor cat i’ the adage? - -And what a deliciously smug Scotch answer is immediately forthcoming! -Says the faint-hearted traitor: - - I dare all that may become a man; - Who dares do more, is none. - -Here we have the moralising scoundrel in which Scotland is so prolific -turned out to the life. Right through the play Shakespeare pitilessly -holds up to our gaze the low and squalid cunning, treachery, the -hypocrisy, and the devilry which have always been and always will be at -the bottom of the Scotchman’s soul, and Macduff puts the coping stone on -the structure of opprobrium by calling his countryman a hell-hound and a -bloodier villain than terms can give him out, and assuring him that he -will live to be the show and gaze o’ the time: - - Painted upon a pole and underwrit, - Here may you see the tyrant. - -From Shakespeare it is an easy jump to Jonson, who helped to write a -play which put the Scot in such bad plight that it had to be suppressed -by the authorities. Then, of course, there is Samuel Johnson, LL.D., who -hated the Scotch at large and by instinct. Johnson has enjoyed no little -reputation for his animadversions upon Scotland. In bulk they are slight, -but they are decidedly to the point. Boswell treasured them and put them -into his book, and to Johnson was the glory. Boswell, it is true, was -a Scotchman himself, and the fact that he has given us one of the most -entertaining pieces of biography ever written is allowed to redound to -the credit of Scotland. I never read the life, however, without feeling -that Johnson must have written Boswell and that Boswell wrote Johnson’s -poems. - -The next good hater of your Scotchman is Charles Lamb. Lamb, need one -say, was Lamby, even in his hatreds. He had a gentle heart and he never -exerted himself to put down aught in malice, so that he called his -feelings of contempt for Scotchmen an imperfect sympathy, and this is -what he wrote: - -“I have been trying all my life to like Scotchmen, and am obliged to -desist from the experiment in despair. They cannot like me—and, in -truth, I never knew one of that nation who attempted to do it. There is -something more plain and ingenuous in their mode of proceeding. We know -one another at first sight. There is an order of imperfect intellects -(under which mine must be content to rank) which in its constitution -is essentially anti-Caledonian. The owners of the sort of faculties I -allude to have minds rather suggestive than comprehensive. They have -no pretences to much clearness or precision in their ideas or in their -manner of expressing them. Their intellectual wardrobe (to confess -fairly) has few whole pieces in it. They are content with fragments and -scattered pieces of truth. She presents no full front to them—a feature -or side-face at the most. Hints and glimpses, germs and crude essays at -a system, are the utmost they pretend to. They beat up a little game -peradventure—and leave it to knottier heads, more robust constitutions, -to run it down. The light that lights them is not steady and polar, but -mutable and shifting; waxing, and again waning. Their conversation is -accordingly. They will throw out a random word in or out of season, and -be content to let it pass for what it is worth. They cannot speak always -as if they were upon their oath—but must be understood, speaking or -writing, with some abatement. They seldom wait to mature a proposition, -but e’en bring it to market in the green ear. They delight to impart -their defective discoveries as they arise, without waiting for their -full development. They are no systematisers, and would but err more by -attempting it. Their minds, as I said before, are suggestive merely. The -brain of a true Caledonian (if I am not mistaken) is constituted upon -quite a different plan. His Minerva is born in panoply. You are never -admitted to see his ideas in their growth—if, indeed, they do grow, and -are not rather put together upon principles of clock-work. You never -catch his mind in an undress. He never hints or suggests anything, but -unlades his stock of ideas in perfect order and completeness. He brings -his total wealth into company and gravely unpacks it. His riches are -always about him. He never stoops to catch a glimmering something in -your presence, to share it with you, before he quite knows whether it be -true touch or not. You cannot cry _halves_ to anything that he finds. He -does not find, but bring. You never witness his first apprehension of -a thing. His understanding is always at its meridian—you never see the -first dawn, the early streaks. He has no falterings of self-suspicion. -Surmises, guesses, misgivings, half-intuitions, semi-consciousness, -partial illuminations, dim instincts, embryo conceptions, have no place -in his brain or vocabulary. The twilight of dubiety never falls upon -him. Is he orthodox?—he has no doubts. Is he an infidel?—he has none -either. Between the affirmative and the negative there is no border -land with him. You cannot hover with him upon the confines of truth, or -wander in the maze of a probable argument. He always keeps the path. You -cannot make excursions with him, for he sets you right. His taste never -fluctuates. His morality never abates. He cannot compromise or understand -middle actions. There can be but a right and a wrong. His conversation is -as a book. His affirmations have the sanctity of an oath. You must speak -upon the square with him. He stops a metaphor like a suspected person in -an enemy’s country. ‘A healthy book!’ said one of his countrymen to me, -who had ventured to give that appellation to John Buncle—‘did I catch -rightly what you said? I have heard of a man in health and of a healthy -state of body, but I do not see how that epithet can be properly applied -to a book.’ Above all, you must beware of indirect expressions before a -Caledonian. Clap an extinguisher upon your irony, if you are unhappily -blest with a vein of it. Remember you are upon your oath. I have a print -of a graceful female after Leonardo da Vinci, which I was showing off -to Mr. ⸺. After he had examined it minutely, I ventured to ask him how -he liked ‘my beauty’ (a foolish name it goes by among my friends)—when -he very gravely assured me that ‘he had considerable respect for my -character and talents’ (so he was pleased to say), ‘but had not given -himself much thought about the degree of my personal pretensions.’ The -misconception staggered me, but did not seem much to disconcert him. -Persons of this nation are particularly fond of affirming a truth—which -nobody doubts. They do not so properly affirm as annunciate it. They do, -indeed, appear to have such a love of truth (as if, like virtue, it were -valuable for itself) that all truth becomes equally valuable, whether -the proposition that contains it be new or old, disputed, or such as is -impossible to become a subject of disputation. I was present not long -since at a party of North Britons, where a son of Burns was expected; and -happened to drop a silly expression (in my South British way), that I -wished it were the father instead of the son, when four of them started -up at once to inform me that ‘that was impossible, because he was dead.’ -An impracticable wish, it seems, was more than they could conceive. Swift -has hit off this part of their character, namely, their love of truth, in -his biting way, but with an illiberality that necessarily confines the -passage to the margin.[11] - -“The tediousness of these people is certainly provoking. I wonder if they -ever tire one another! In my early life I had a passionate fondness -for the poetry of Burns. I have sometimes foolishly hoped to ingratiate -myself with his countrymen by expressing it. But I have always found that -a true Scot resents your admiration of his compatriot, even more than -he would your contempt of him. The latter he imputes to your ‘imperfect -acquaintance with many of the words which he uses’; and the same -objection makes it a presumption in you to suppose that you can admire -him. Thomson they seem to have forgotten. Smollett they have neither -forgotten nor forgiven for his delineation of Rory and his companion upon -their first introduction to our metropolis. Speak of Smollett as a great -genius, and they will retort upon you Hume’s _History_ compared with -_his_ continuation of it. What if the historian had continued _Humphrey -Clinker_?”[12] - -I reproduce this estimate with the utmost satisfaction. The irony of the -“imperfect intellects” passage will not be understood by dull Donald; -indeed, he will in all probability take the passage seriously and quote -it against me, but he is welcome. And on the whole I think that Lamb’s -view of the Scot is almost as acute as that of Dr. Robertson Nicoll -himself. Nobody can doubt after reading the foregoing that Lamb saw in -the Scotchman a crass and plantigrade person, incapable of comprehending -the inexplicit and as devoid of true imagination as a brick. Lamb’s -notion of the Scot’s incapacity for humour also chimes with that of -Sidney Smith, who, as all men know, was of opinion that if you would have -a Scotchman see a joke it is necessary to perform a surgical operation on -him.[13] - -Last of all, though perhaps brightest and best of them, who have -lifted up their voices in the unmasking of the Scot, we must take -Mr. W. E. Henley. In an entirely just and reasonable essay on Burns, -Mr. Henley made a passing reference to the poor living, lewd, grimy, -free-spoken, ribald old Scots peasant-world. For this choice collocation -of adjectives he was rewarded with many Scottish thwacks. That the old -Scots peasant-world was everything that Mr. Henley said of it no person -of sense will gainsay, and that the Scots peasant-world of to-day is, -if anything, worse, is evident from the remark of one of Mr. Henley’s -Scottish critics, who says: - -“We challenge Mr. Henley, _et hoc genus omne_, to disprove the fact that -the record of crime, immorality, loose living in every parish wherein -Burns resided, shows less by one half—by fifty to seventy per cent.—in -that Burns epoch than it does in the same parishes to-day.” - -Mr. Henley has brought such a swarm of bees round his bonnet by a simple -and quite tolerant bit of criticism, that to venture on anything in -the way of plain talk about the Scotch might well appal the stoutest. -The worthy Dr. John D. Ross, editor of the _Burns Almanac_ and sundry -other compilations of a fatuously Burnsite character, has collected -some of the diatribes against Mr. Henley into a volume which he calls -_Henley and Burns_. Like everything else that comes out of Scotland, -this volume gives the Scotchman away at all points. For example, it is -made quite plain that Mr. Henley’s essay, a purely critical venture, -was regarded in Scotland as a base attempt to pull down the cash value -of early editions of Burns’s poetry. Dr. Ross’s volume opens with the -following oracular sentence: “Lovers of Burns will rejoice to learn from -the large price paid this week for a Kilmarnock edition, that despite -the criticism of Mr. W. E. Henley in the Centenary edition, there are -as yet no signs that the poet’s popularity is on the wane,” and this -brilliant commercialist adds: “Rightly or wrongly, Scotsmen will cling to -the Burns’ superstition, and will be the better for it. At an important -book sale in Edinburgh this week, a Kilmarnock first edition in an -apparently perfect state of preservation, fetched the remarkable price -of 545 guineas. The highest price ever before given for a copy of this -edition, mutilated, however, and in inferior condition, was £120. Such a -figure is undoubtedly a fancy price. The book is very rare, and to the -bibliophile rarity is an all-important consideration in estimating value. -But the popularity of the poet, the admiration of the uncritical, as Mr. -Henley would put it, has helped to magnify the price of the book, and the -critic’s depreciation has had no effect on the market.” What in the name -of all that is Burnsy does this gentleman mean? - -Again, in another paper headed “A Critic Scarified,” the scarifier -takes Mr. Henley to task for saying that “the Scots peasant … fed so -cheaply that even on high days and holidays his diet (as set forth in -the _Blithsome Bridal_) consisted largely in preparations of meal and -vegetables and what is technically known as ‘offal.’” To which Dr. Ross’s -scarifier retorts, “The author is happily addressing ignorant Southrons, -not even ‘half-read’ Scots. However, it need not be imagined that Mr. -Henley can translate the Scots language of the poem he refers to, else he -would not assert that the viands specified in it are such common fare, -consisting as they did of six different soups, eight varieties of fish -(including shell-fish), six varieties of flesh (roasts, salted meat, nolt -feet, haggis, tripe, sheep’s head), three kinds of bread (oaten, barley, -and wheaten), cheese, new ale, and brandy.” On the face of it there is -here a mighty deal of offal to precious little sound meat. If nolt feet, -haggis, tripe, and sheep’s head are not offal in Scotland, they are -certainly reckoned in that category in England. - -We shall return to Dr. Ross’s scarifier in a chapter on “The Bard.” -Meanwhile, let us note that the best English writers have agreed that the -Scotchman is, at best, not quite an angel of light. They have looked on -him with the eye of calm perception, and they have found him seriously -wanting. That he is a savage and a barbarian by blood, a freebooter by -heredity, a dullard, a braggart, and in short, a Scotchman, cannot be -doubted. The testimony is all against him, and until he mends his ways it -will continue to be against him. - - - - -III - -THE POW-WOW MEN - - -It is the Scotchman’s boast that the Scotchman has always figured -portentously in the councils of the civilised nations. In France, in -Germany, and even in unbeautiful Russia, Scotchmen have established -themselves and at time and time risen to positions of considerable -political power. And if we are to credit Dr. Hill Burton, this has always -been an excellent thing for the nations concerned. According to Dr. -Burton, if the Scotch did not entirely build up the France of the Middle -Ages they had a mighty big finger in the process, and we are asked to -believe by the same authority that it is the strain of Scotch blood in -the veins of the French which has assisted very materially in making -the fortunes of that singularly fascinating and ingenious people.[14] -The subject is a large one, and much that is edifying has been written -about it, not only by Scotchmen, but by various foreign authors. On -the whole, perhaps, Europe has not done so badly with her Scots, the -reason being that she never allowed them to be any Scotcher than she -could help, and turned them out the minute they became aggressive. In -England, however, the more Scotch and the more aggressive the Scot -becomes the more we seem to like him. At the present moment England is -virtually being run by the Scotch. In the House of Commons the Leader -of the Government—and practically the autocrat of the Assembly—is the -Right Honourable Arthur James Balfour, a philosopher from Scotland, who -is so Scotch that he plays golf. And the Leader of the Opposition, save -the mark! of an Opposition which, in a constitution like the British, -carries upon its shoulders the heaviest responsibilities, is Sir Henry -Campbell-Bannerman, also a Scotchman, and if the truth must be told, a -dullard. And in the way of a third party, which will imperialise with the -Government and cackle of reform with the Opposition, we have the Liberal -Leaguers, headed by that proud chieftain of the pudding race—the Right -Honourable the Earl of Rosebery. So that at the front of each of the -three great political forces of Britain—the forces which, when all is -said, mean everything to Britain as a nation—there stands firm and erect -some sort of a Caledonian. Such a condition of things has never existed -in England before, and in the light of recent political happenings it is -devoutly to be hoped that it will never exist again. Since Mr. Balfour -and Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman came into the offices they hold, -England has been going steadily down-hill. At no period in her history -have her enemies been so thick on the ground and so exultant and sure of -themselves as they are at present, and at no period in her history has -her prestige been at so low an ebb. Politically she has come to count -as a little less than France and more than Spain. Formerly she led the -nations—now she is content to walk humbly in line with them. Formerly -she led the band, now she is merely third trombone player. Formerly, -if she went to war, it was with nations of ponderability and for high -principles; until the other day, she was draining her best blood and -getting rid of one and a half millions of money weekly in a struggle -with a handful of freebooters, got up and fomented largely in the -interests of the children of Israel. At the time of writing Consols are -at 94 and the Income Tax is 1_s._ 2_d._ in the pound, which shows what -managers the Scotch are. Also Government, in so far as Government means -the steady development of the higher interests of the state at home -and in the colonies, is at a dead standstill. The march of reform has -been checked. Progress in the wide sense of the term is no more thought -of. The legislative mill grinds heavily along and the grist amounts to -nothing; in the seats of the mighty,—in the seats of Benjamin Disraeli -and William Ewart Gladstone,—there blandly smiles Balfour and dodders -Campbell-Bannerman. Mr. Balfour, golfer, and, for aught I know to the -contrary, curler and hammer-putter, plays what he is pleased to call the -game. Now the game is no new thing. Practically it is a development of -that childish pastime known as “Jack’s on his Island.” On Mr. Balfour’s -island grows the green bay tree of power, and to live snugly under the -shade of that tree, no matter what comes, is, in the view of Mr. Balfour, -the game. It is with him a question of what can I do for England, having -due regard to the exigencies of the game? Hence does he seek and bring -along young talent. Having found your young talent, you must make quite -sure, not of its talentedness, but of its unwavering disposition to play -the game. Will it be loyal to the Balfour? Can you depend upon it to -stick by the Balfour though the heavens fall and it thunder to the tune -of Green Sleeves? Anything that will subscribe to the Test Act of the -Balfour is young talent. Hence it comes to pass that at the War Office we -have had that shallow, dandy Wyndham. He is a _protégé_ of the Balfour, -even as the Balfour is the nephew of his uncle. And he plays the game. -When matters at the War Office became too vasty for him he was shovelled -by the Balfour into the Chief Secretaryship for Ireland. Even the Balfour -and his friends are fain to admit that Mr. Wyndham has done no more -for Ireland than he did for the War Office. Yet he plays the game, and -so does the Balfour, and everything is right as right can be. In Mr. -Wyndham’s old place at the War Office we have that excellent dabbler, -Mr. Brodrick. Mr. Brodrick, like the House of Lords, has always been -exceedingly busy doing nothing and doing it very well. Periodically he -stands on his hind legs in the Commons and trots out tremendous schemes, -all of which end pleasantly in smoke. The rottenness of the British Army -is no affair of his; it was rotten when he first made its acquaintance—it -will be just as rotten when he leaves Pall Mall. Underneath the terrific -expenditure necessitated by the war there are jobs and scandals of the -gravest sort, and Mr. Brodrick knows nothing about them. His business -is to vindicate the characters of fribbling officers and gentlemen, to -lay on praise of the British soldier with a trowel, and to assure the -world at large that the persons who have brought charges against army -contractors have brought those charges simply because the contractors’ -names are un-English and consequently not pleasing to the British -commercial mind. He it is, in short, who allows himself to be put up as a -sort of sand-bag in front of the Government, guaranteed to ward off all -attacks by simply sitting tight and remaining as dumb as an oyster. He -was no doubt told when he took up his present dignities that the Balfour -would expect him to play the game, and, being a good man, he is playing -it. - -For the rest of them one man only needs be discussed. He is a Birmingham -man, Joseph Chamberlain by name. The Balfour took him over from the other -side, and, in spite of all his faults, gave him a warm Scotch welcome -and set him high in the Balfourian councils. From that day to this the -Balfour has looked upon him askance and wished him anywhere but where -he is; but the Balfour is Scotch and he lacks the pluck to get rid of -the Birmingham gentleman, because it might cost them something. The -Birmingham gentleman, knowing the Balfour to be Scotch, defies him. - -On the other side, as we have said, there is poor, dear old Sir ’Enry -of the double-barrelled Scotch name, which the economical have reduced -to C.-B. On the whole, C.-B. is about as pathetic a figure as one can -find in history; he is the type and flower of your Scotchman lifted to -the pinnacles. Sooner or later he was bound to make a mess of it, and, -lacking the blood of Liverpool which delayed Mr. Gladstone’s downfall -for so many years, he made it sooner. From the first he has been the -laughing-stock, not only of the Government, and, for that matter, of -Europe, but also of his own party. He lolls enthroned on the front -Opposition Bench, shoulder to shoulder with trusty lieutenants who never -obey him, and backed up by political friends who put no trust in him. On -the day that he took the party by the nose, the party dropped off, and -all that remains to C.-B. is the nose. To this relic of ambition realised -he clings with true Scottish pertinacity. He has wrapped it up in a -napkin and hidden it; probably it will never again be found, inasmuch as -C.-B. is invariably too bewildered to know what he is doing. Harcourt -bewilders him, Asquith bewilders him, Morley bewilders him, and latterly -there has come that crowning bewilderment of them all, Lord Rosebery. -C.-B. will go bewildered through whatever remains to him of his term of -office, and when Liberalism takes thought to get properly rid of him, he -will be more bewildered still. He is too Scotch to perceive that nobody -wants him, and if he saw it he is too Scotch to go. - -As for Lord Rosebery, the less said about him the better. He is of Scotch -stock, and he had the good fortune to be born of an English mother. -But the Scotch blood in him, the Scotch ineptitudes, the Scotch lack -of force prevail. He does everything by turns and nothing long. Like -Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, he failed as a leader. The statesman in -him does not possess him; it was a mere detail and a small one. As an -active politician he had to look around for a model upon whom to shape -himself. No Scotchman can make the smallest sort of mark, whether it be -in politics or anything else, without such a model. And in his middle and -later periods, at any rate, Lord Rosebery has modelled himself upon Mr. -Augustine Birrell, and as is usual with Scotchmen, he has practically -ousted Mr. Birrell from the position of wit-monger to the Liberal party. -In the House of Commons Mr. Birrell made a reputation, not because he -was a statesman or an orator, but because he had a habit of firing off a -kind of loose wit which passes in the House of Commons for epigram. When -he spoke, the House was sure to be in a roar within the half-hour, and -one or two of the phrases he made became texts for leader-writers and -made good “quote” in Liberal speeches. With true Scottish enterprise, -Lord Rosebery determined to be a second and a greater Birrell. He has -succeeded. In the House of Lords he enjoys a reputation for saying -things. He is also credited, as was Mr. Birrell, with a nice taste in -letters. And, like Mr. Birrell, he is not infrequently asked down to -Little Puddlington in order to help in the celebration of the centenaries -of Little Puddlington’s locally born geniuses. He dare no more make a -serious speech, either in the House of Lords or at Little Puddlington, -than he dare call Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman out of his name. Fireworks -are expected from him, and if they were not forthcoming, there would -be no Lord Rosebery. He passes for a great empire builder, and along -with the worthy Dr. Jameson he figures among the executors of the late -Mr. Rhodes’s will. He is the founder and President of the New Liberal -League, which will have nothing to do with Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, -but his personal friendship with Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman continues, -and Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman is certainly not mentioned in Mr. Cecil -Rhodes’s will. In effect, Lord Rosebery amounts to little more than -nothing. The Liberal League, which was to make a great to-do in most -matters appertaining to Liberalism and government, fizzled like a bad -squib for three or four weeks, and then Lord Rosebery went to Nice. That -is exactly the man. When his time comes, when the country wants him, -when Liberalism wants him,—when, in fact, anybody wants him,—he says, -“Yes, yes, I am here,” and immediately starts either for Nice or Epsom. -Scotch modesty overcomes him. Scotch caution says, “You know you are a -fool; be careful to avoid ultimate risks.” Scotch cowardice says, “If -you go into battle you may get hurt. Nice is much nicer.” In newspaper -columns Lord Rosebery’s speeches read _admirably_, providing you do not -study them too closely, but any person who has been present in the House -of Lords what time his Lordship was on his legs must have gone away -with shattered illusions. Even as C.-B. stutters and blunders and grabs -for his words in the circumambient air, so Lord Rosebery cackles and -sentimentalises. In appearance he is of about the build and body of a -draper. His voice is that of an anæmic curate. There are always tears in -it at the wrong places, and on the whole it makes you laugh. And having -spoken, he trots out like a Scotch sparrow, and with hat a-tilt and arms -under his coat-tails poises himself perkily on the steps of the entrance -to St. Stephen’s Hall, and waits for his carriage to take him off to the -station, and so to Epsom or Nice. On the turf his reputation is exactly -the same in kind as his reputation in politics. He is as variable as the -shade and as changeable as the moons. Sometimes he does brilliant things, -but he cannot keep them up. In brief he is half Scotch and half soda. - -It is to these redoubtable Scotch persons that England is looking for -good government, and hence it comes to pass that of late she has had to -govern herself. Out of Scotchmen you can get little that is business-like -and little that is dignified, at any rate where statesmanship is -concerned. Their ambitions are illimitable, but their powers of execution -not worth counting. They will fight from behind cover to more or less -bitter and ignominious ends, but, like the Boer farmers, to whom in many -large respects they bear the most striking resemblances, they never know -when they are beaten, and their warfare deteriorates into mere brigandism -and filibustering. When Britain was ruled by Englishmen she wore the -epithet Great by good right; since she has been ruled by Scotchmen she -has well nigh lost it. - - - - -IV - -THE SCOT IN JOURNALISM - - -We have seen on the word of Dr. Robertson Nicoll that once upon a time it -was the ambition of every Scotch youth to become a professor. Once upon a -time, too, and one does not need to quote authority for it, every second -child in kilts was devoted by his parents to the ministry, and did, no -doubt, sooner or later attain to that admirable office. But latterly the -supply of Scotch professors has been a good deal bigger than the demand, -and it has dawned upon the slow Scottish intellect that £70 a year and a -manse is after all not exactly one of the prizes of life. Therefore your -stern, calculating Scotch peasant has during late years dedicated his -son to the practice and service of journalism. Now journalism, though -the Fourth estate, is the last of the professions. The journalist who is -making £500 a year,—at any rate, the Scotch journalist who is making £500 -a year,—is the exception and not the rule. Still, £500 a year, or, for -that matter, £250 a year, is wealth to your average Scot, who, nine times -out of ten, comes hitherward from a district where persons who once had -a sovereign in their possession are looked upon with awe and reverence. -Furthermore, journalism suits the Scot because it is a profession into -which you can crawl without inquiry as to your qualifications, and -because it is a profession in which the most middling talents will take -you a long way. The reporting staffs and sub-editorial staffs of both the -London and provincial journals can, I think, boast a decidedly decent -leaven of Scotchmen. In Fleet Street, if you do not happen to possess a -little of the Doric, you are at some disadvantage in comprehending the -persons with whom you are compelled to talk. “Hoo arre ye the noo?” -is the conventional greeting in most newspaper offices. Also a large -proportion of the persons who come up the stairs on personal business -which usually turns out to be the personal business of the persons, and -resolves itself into a request for reviewing, or an offer to do another -man’s work at a cheap rate, are very Scotch indeed; and while they drop -the Doric word with fair success, they cannot for the life of them -get out of the Doric idiom and the Doric accent. Armed with a letter -of introduction from Professor McMoss—whom you do not know—and with a -sheaf of dog’s eared certificates picked up at Scotch universities, they -descend upon you with the air of men who know for a surety that you -are dying for their services, and when they go out, after wasting an -altogether unnecessary amount of your time and temper, it is with black -looks and a burning conviction that you refused to employ them because -you know them to be so clever that they might supplant you in your own -chair. - -Ten years ago it was the man from Oxford or Cambridge that was considered -the essential thing in journalism. Nowadays the attitude of newspaper -proprietors in want of a smart man amounts to “No university man need -apply.” I do not think that we are very far from the day when the tune -will be changed to “No Scotchman need apply.” Numerically the Scotch -journalist is unquestionably strong. He possesses, too, certain solid -qualities which are undoubtedly desirable in a journalist. For example, -he is punctual, cautious, dogged, unoriginal, and a born galley-slave. -You can knock an awful lot of work out of him, and no matter how little -you pay him he may be depended upon to sustain the dignity of the office -in the matter of clothes, external habits of life, and a dog-like -devotion to the hand that feeds him and the foot that kicks him. In -short, he is a capital routine man, and if you have a journal which you -wish to maintain on the ancient lines of stodge and flat-footedness, the -Scotchman does you admirably. But it is impossible to get away from -the fact that the vogue of the stolid, arid, stereotyped, sleepy sort -of journalism which satisfied the last generation is rapidly going to -pieces. The contemporary world wants and will have what it chooses to -call the “live” journalist, and the Scotchman who is a live journalist -to the extent of evolving anything bright or subtle or suggestive or -original has yet to be found. At the present moment he is managing to -keep himself alive by imitation. As a plagiarist of ideas, necessity has -made him a master. He knows that the reign of dulness is coming to an -end, and that the auld wife journalism in whose benevolent presence he -has prosed and prosed for so many years, is even now in her dotage and -cannot last much longer. So that he has taken thought and determined to -aim higher. What man has done, a Scot can do. It is not given to him to -be witty and brilliant and unhackneyed on a little oatmeal, but, thank -Heaven! he can always play sedulous ape, and sedulous ape it shall be. - -These remarks, of course, apply only to the lower reaches of journalism, -to the sub-editorial, reportorial, contributorial, and contents bill -making departments. When it comes to a question of editors, matters -assume quite a different complexion. A Scotch editor is, as a rule, a -sight for gods and little fishes. Dr. Nicoll will tell you that the Scot -makes a good servant but a bad master. This is the truth. Mercifully, -you can count the Scotch editors of London on the fingers of one hand. -So far as I am aware, there are only two of them—Dr. Robertson Nicoll -and Dr. Nicol Dunn. Of one of them—him of the _Morning Post_—you hear -little, save that he is a good fellow of no great parts, and that he -holds at his office a daily reception for raw, unlicked Scotch youths who -are come newly over the border and crave the benefits of his advice and -assistance. Politically, his paper can scarcely be considered a power; -its views on most questions are of no great consequence, but it appears -to have an enormous circulation among the blue-blooded and the wealthy, -whose doings it chronicles with touching fidelity and regularity, and -without the smallest reference to the notoriously independent guinea -stamp of Dr. Nicol Dunn’s favourite poet. The other Dr. Nicoll is a horse -of another colour. He is all for Nonconformity and the appraisement of -healthy and improving literature. Each of his papers is a paper for -the bosom of the family and the ministers’ Monday, and warranted to -do all that can be done for the unco’ guid of North Britain, for all -Scottish writers of whatever degree of merit or demerit, for Dr. Nicoll’s -English admirers, and Dr. Nicoll himself. On every issue of these -remarkable publications Dr. Nicoll stamps the impress of his own engaging -personality. I have heard it said by an admirer of his that he is three -men—a Scotch divine, a judge of letters, and a journalist who never -forgets that his main business in life is to sell papers. These three -Dr. Nicolls are, I am assured, quite different persons, inasmuch as the -Doctor possesses the blessed gift of detachment and thinks nothing of -dictating an article on the genius of Dr. Parker, a kindly appreciation -of the latest gory detective story, and a set of Sunday afternoon verses -or so in a single morning. Of his lucubrations as a divine I shall say -nothing, because I have not studied them. As a judge of letters, however, -I take him to be the most catholic scribbler in Europe. Any author who -is doing well—that is to say, any author whose record of sales entitles -him to be considered a success—may always reckon on a large hospitality -in Dr. Nicoll’s journals, and will always find Dr. Nicoll and his merry -men beaming round the corner, hat in hand. It is a case of what would -you like, sir? all the time. Are you spending your holiday cruising -on the blue Mediterranean in the Duchess of Puttleham’s yacht? Very -good. Paragraph in the column signed “Man of Kent,” with a delicate -reference to your last great novel. Have you projects? Equally good. “Mr. -So-and-So is, I understand, hard at work on his next great novel.” Will -your new book, 30,000 copies of which have been sold before the day of -publication, make its appearance on April 1? Capital. Send us portraits -of yourself at all ages from three months to the present day, pictures -of the modest tenement in which you were born, and of your present town -house and little place in the country, and, bless your heart, we will -do the rest. Do people say that the great novel, of which you have -sold fifty million copies in England and America, is a pot-boiler and -a stunner? Dear, dear me! You have our heartiest sympathies, sir, and -if you would like to vindicate your character as an artist in a couple -of pages of the _British Weekly_, why, my dear sir, we are at your -service. I do not say that there is any terrific harm in this species -of enterprise; that it pleases the mass of mankind and therefore sells -papers goes without saying. On the other hand, it is quite subversive of -the best interests of letters, and therefore I am inclined to think—and I -set it down with great sorrow—that Dr. Nicoll, in spite of his devotional -connection is, if he have any force in letters at all, a distinctly -dubious and undesirable force. - -As an example of what the _Bookman_ really can do when it has a mind, let -us quote the following review of a book by Mr. Le Gallienne: - -“Mr. Le Gallienne is the Dick Whittington of song. His story reminds us -of that other Richard, who, one summer morning many hundreds of years -ago, sat listening to the bells of distant London. The one carried his -little all tied up in a handkerchief slung to the end of a stick; the -other came to London to seek his fortune with a sheaf of manuscript poems -in his pocket and any number of poems singing in his head. Now, Mr. -Le Gallienne is a figure in ‘society,’ and lives in a beautiful house -crowded with costly _bric-à-brac_ and valuable books; but I like to think -sometimes of the sloping-roofed room, nestling under the gables of one -of the most picturesque buildings left in London—quaint old Staple’s -Inn—which was his first home in the great city. - -“It was in just such a room that one might picture Chatterton—rough-hewn -oak beams above, uneven oak flooring below, and in front a ‘magic -casement’ ‘opening upon the foam’—not of ‘perilous seas’—but of perilous -streets, where the black tides of hurrying human creatures never ceases -[_sic_] to ebb and flow. Here were his bed, his books, and his papers. -Here, too, though shillings were probably scarcer than sovereigns are -now, were the flowers, which the extravagant tenant of the prophet’s -chamber was never too poor to deny himself—the flowers which were the -inspiration of many of his songs. And here, on a little stove in a -corner, he would himself boil the water with which to brew for his -visitor the tea or coffee that he would hand round with the ease and -grace of a duke dispensing hospitality in his castle. - -“I have been betrayed into this personal reminiscence by reading how -‘Love, a poor poet in need of a room for his bed and his rhymes,’ and -‘Beauty, a little blue-eyed girl who loved him,’ transformed into a -seventh heaven a single seventh-story room which they had rented, for -surely ‘Love’ stands for Mr. Le Gallienne himself, and ‘Beauty’ for the -sweet-faced young wife with dove-like eyes and dove-like voice, whose -loss has been the great sorrow of the poet’s life. It was in a beautiful -idyll called _A Seventh-Story Heaven_ that I read of the transformation, -and this brings me to the fact with which I started or ought to have -started—that Mr. Le Gallienne has published a new book. In other words, -he has set open the door of another House of Welcome on the literary -highway. And surely ’twere as hard, on a glaring summer’s noon, for a -tired and thirsty traveller to pass by some ancient hostelry, through -the ivy-hung porch of which he sees, lying back in cool shadow, a -quaint stone-paven nook with a glimpse of green lawn and box-bordered -flower beds beyond, as it were for the literary wayfarer to turn aside -from a volume titled like Mr. Le Gallienne’s, _The Prose Fancies of a -Poet_! Could a more alluring sign be set aswing before the doors of -any literary House of Refreshment? Nor when we have entered are we -disappointed by the bill of fare which is put before us. ‘A Seventh-Story -Heaven,’ ‘Spring by Parcel Post,’ ‘A Poet in the City,’ ‘Brown Roses,’ -‘Death and Two Friends,’ ‘A Seaport in the Moon’—here surely is a list -which might stir the imagination even of unimaginative folk. - -“The score or so of ‘Fancies’ which form the volume are, as was -only to be expected, of very varying merit. To the opening idyll, -‘A Seventh-Story Heaven,’ reference has already been made. Mr. Le -Gallienne’s friend and neighbour, Mr. Grant Allen, a delightful -naturalist and essayist, whom society by her neglect has turned into a -thrower into her midst of Nihilistic bombs in the guise of novels, could -bear witness to the fact that nests are built in stranger places, but -surely never did love-birds find such strange quarters for their home -as this eyrie at the top of a building, the ground floor of which was a -sailor’s tavern. But dingy and unlovely as the spot may be, it is made -beautiful for us in Mr. Le Gallienne’s page as the scene of a love-story -so exquisitely told, and so tremulous with tender pathos, that we can -only compare it to the work of the gentle Elia. - -“I cannot say as much for the second Fancy, whimsically entitled ‘Spring -by Parcel Post,’ for it is surely an error of taste which every admirer -of Mr. Le Gallienne’s genius must regret. ‘The big Dutch hyacinths,’ -he writes, ‘are already shamelessly _enceinte_ with their buxom waxen -blooms, so fat and fragrant—(one is already delivered of a fine blossom. -Well, that is a fine baby, to be sure! says [_sic_] the other hyacinths -with babes no less bonny under their own green apron—all waiting for the -doctor Sun).’ - -“I wonder if this offends the taste of my readers as much as it offends -mine. Mr. Le Gallienne may quote science and physiology against me, but -I must confess that in regard to children and flowers I like to keep my -very thoughts free from the smirch of sex, though I concede and contend -that the smirch is entirely of man’s, not of God’s making. But in the -passage I have quoted there is a certain coarseness of associations which -is painful in connection with the purest and most perfect thing on God’s -earth—a flower. It was to me as if hot hands were tampering with the -petals of a lily. The air seemed to become close as I read, and it was -not until I had had a dip—as into cool spring water—into the flower-poems -of Burns and Wordsworth that I could go on with my reading of _Prose -Fancies_. - -“Let us turn the page and forget that one of the most delicately-minded -of living poets, whose work has hitherto been distinguished for exquisite -fancy and excellent taste, should so far have ‘lost himself’ as to have -written it. - -“_Variations upon Whitebait_ is a caprice as skilful as Rossetti’s famous -sonnet, _A Match with the Moon_. It is a very curiosity in similes, and -though Mr. Le Gallienne will toss you a fresh and apt simile for every -fish upon your fork, though he introduce as many variations as a pianist -introduces into _Home, Sweet Home_, yet the essay is not all variation, -but has a pretty story running like the thread of a tune throughout. - -“As for the ‘Letter to an Unsuccessful Literary Man,’ I would suggest -that it be lithographed in order that the successful author may use it as -a form with which to reply to the uninvited correspondent. If only Mr. Le -Gallienne could induce amateurs to read this letter instead of writing -letters of their own to that most baited of beings, the professional -author, what a boon he would confer upon his fellow craftsmen! The essay, -_On Loving One’s Enemies_, is scarcely written in the spirit which its -title and its protestations of charity might lead us to suppose. It -strikes me as somewhat self-conscious and defiant; but _Death and Two -Friends_ contains some really signal work. For the gem of the book, -however, we must turn to _A Seaport in the Moon_. This and the opening -chapter, _A Seventh-Story Heaven_, are in themselves worth the modest sum -which the publishers ask for the volume. _A Seaport in the Moon_ is an -exquisitely beautiful fancy. Mr. Le Gallienne was in the right mood when -he wrote it, and when he is in the mood he is a magician. His page glows -like a painter’s palette with rich colours, and the pictures come and go -before us like sunset pageant.” - -Apart from the delicious Scotch snobbery which jumps at you from every -line of this admirable piece of criticism, and leaving altogether out -of the question the downright vulgarity and ineptitude of it, one would -like to know what the _Bookman_ would say if Mr. Le Gallienne published -a similar book to-morrow. At the time when this review was published, -Mr. Le Gallienne was in the zenith of his somewhat slender and rarefied -popularity. He had captured the heart of Kensington with dainty vacuity. -His locks were curled and perfumed; he figured prettily and replied -to the toast of letters at the dinners of literary clubs, and was the -delicate high priest of a little school of hot pressed poetry and vapid -prose. The _Bookman_, of course, was bound to salute him with a chaste -appreciation. Since then the world has gone on and left Mr. Le Gallienne -somewhat behind it, also Mr. Le Gallienne himself has settled in America -and cut off his hair. No more does he publish the booklet that takes -the town; no longer does he write of the “Woman’s Third” or sigh over -the deception of tender-hearted schoolgirls, who have provided one with -a sonnet. In short, his laurel hangs dustily on a nail at the “Bodley -Head,” and the raven locks that once bore it have probably by this time -gone to help in the making of a mess of honest builders’ mortar. So that -the _Bookman_ knows him no more. - -From the issue of the _Bookman_ which contains the review above quoted I -take a couple of “news notes.” - -“Mr. J. M. Barrie has finished a book on his mother, which will be -entitled _Margaret Ogilvy_. It is perhaps the most beautiful and -exquisite piece of work he has yet accomplished. It is not a biography in -the ordinary sense, but gives aspects and incidents of his mother’s life -in the style which Mr. Barrie’s readers know, keeping close throughout -to facts. The volume will be published in this country by Messrs. Hodder -and Stoughton, and in America by Messrs. Scribner.” - -“Mr. S. R. Crockett’s new novel is to be entitled _Lochinvar_. Some -eminent critics who have had the privilege of reading the portion already -written are enthusiastic in their praise of the work. It is said to be -more in the manner of _The Lilac Sun-Bonnet_ than some of Mr. Crockett’s -more recently published novels.” - -So much for the Scotch journalist. - - - - -V - -THRUMS AND DRUMTOCHTY - - -The Scot abroad, or at any rate the Scot that one knows and loves in -London, is a creature so winning and delectable in character that one -proceeds to the study of the Scot at home with anticipations of the most -pleasurable kind. The best way to study the Scot at home is, of course, -to consult the works of those eminent Scottish writers, Dr. J. M. Barrie -and Dr. Ian Maclaren, with occasional reference to Dr. S. R. Crockett. -Dr. Barrie and Dr. Maclaren (otherwise Watson) have been at pains to -portray for us, with what Dr. Nicoll would no doubt call loving and -exquisite fidelity, the peoples and manners and customs of two Scotch -parishes, named respectively Thrums and Drumtochty. Both, one gathers, -are the prettiest, most charitable, and most God-fearing communities to -be found upon this globe of sinful continents. Butter will not melt, -and ginger is not hot in the mouth either at Thrums or Drumtochty. The -various books of the chronicles of that earthly paradise, Thrums, are -of formidable number, and I do not profess to have read more than five -of them. But I have read enough to know all that I want to know about -Thrums. Here, it seems, “twenty years ago, hundreds of weavers lived and -died Thoreaus ’ben the hoose without knowing it.” Here also lived “the -dear old soul who originally induced me to enter the Auld Licht Kirk” and -was “as sweet and pure a woman as I ever knew”; also Tammy Mealmaker, -who died a bachelor and “had been soured in his youth by disappointment -in love of which he spoke but seldom,” also Tibbie McQuhattay, “at whom -you may smile, but, ah! I know what she was at the sick-bedside”; also -Whinny Webster, who ate peppermints in church, and when detected in -the act “gave one wild scream”; and “straightway became a God-fearing -man”; also Hendry Munn, “who was the only man in Thrums who did not -quake when the minister looked at him”; also Jess McQumpha, who “sat at -the window for twenty years or more, looking at the world as through a -telescope,” and who “was possessed of a sweet, untarnished soul”; also -Leeby, who “died in the back end of the year I have been speaking of”; -and Jamie, who did the home-coming, and gaed somebody “sic a look”; and -last, but not least, in childishness, the Little Minister and Babbie. -For blithering sentiment of the cheapest and most obvious sort, these -personages have certainly never been equalled. The whole tone of the -Thrums chronicles is as bathotic as it could be made even by a Scotchman, -and wherever one turns one finds Mr. Barrie trotting out creatures of a -sentiment so slobbery that it would be eschewed even by the scribbling, -simpering misses at a seminary. And at Drumtochty, need one say, Dr. Ian -Maclaren introduces you to the same set of silly figures. Dr. Maclaren, -it is true, put in the front of his show a cunning Scotch farmer whose -attempts to cheat his landlord, the worthy doctor,—parson as he is,—would -evidently have you smile, but all the rest of his people are rare and -radiant pieces of virtue, clothed round in Scotch flesh and sandy hair, -and speaking the most uncompromising dialect. For example, there is -Mrs. Elspeth Macfadyen. This lady’s claim to greatness is not exactly -of a moral kind, being based on the circumstance that she obtained a -penny above the market price for her butter. All the farmers’ wives of -the Scotch romances invariably do this. Even Dr. Crockett’s lady of -the lilac sunbonnet made the best butter in three parishes. The butter -woman, however, is not intended to count, so that we will let her go by, -and proceed duly to note the heavenly dispositions of the rest of the -Drumtochtyans. In the first place, there is Baxter of Burnbrae. Burnbrae, -it seems, “had to make the choice that has been offered to every man -since the world began”; in other words, he had to choose between losing -his farm and changing his kirk. - -“‘Well, Baxter,’ said the factor in his room next day, ‘your offer is all -right in the money, and we’ll soon settle the building. By the way, I -suppose you’ve thought over that kirk affair, and will give your word to -attend the Established Church, eh?’ - -“‘Ye may be sure that A’ve gien a’ ye said ma best judgment, and there’s -naething I wudna dae to be left in Burnbrae, but this thing ye ask A -canna grant.’ - -“‘Why not?’ and the factor, lounging in his chair, eyed Burnbrae -contemptuously as he stood erect before him. ‘My groom tells me that -there is not a grain of difference between all those kirks in Scotland, -and that the whole affair is just downright bad temper, and I believe -he’s right.’ - -“‘A wudna say onything disrespectfu’, sir, but it’s juist possible that -naither you nor your groom ken the history o’ the Free Church; but ye -may be sure sensible men and puir fouk dinna mak’ sic sacrifices for bad -temper.’” - -Which is exceeding good of Burnbrae, if a little too bad of Dr. Maclaren. - -And our excellent Scotch author makes Burnbrae conclude the interview -thus: “‘Sir,’ he said, with great solemnity, ‘I pray God you may never -have such sorrow as you have sent on my house this day.’” I should very -much doubt whether there is a Scotchman in all Scotland who would not -have made quite a different ending with much fist-shaking and calling -down of curses in it. - -Well, in the result, Burnbrae does leave his farm; anyway, there is a -sale, or as the Scotch elegantly term it, a roup. And what happens? Why, -the neighbours—good, honest bodies—turn up in their thousands and buy in -Burnbrae’s farming stock at noble prices, bidding high for everything -in order that Burnbrae may at least have a good roup. Meanwhile the -minister of the kirk with which Burnbrae scorned to become a member has -communicated with the owner of the soil, the Earl of Kilspindie to wit, -and to Burnbrae Kilspindie writes, “Meet me in Muirtown on Friday.” On -Friday, Burnbrae meets the Earl. They crack together of Burnbrae’s son, -the sergeant, who, like all the other Scotch sergeants of fiction, has -just won the Victoria Cross. “‘There will be no speaking to Mrs. Baxter -now after this exploit of the sergeant’s! When I read it on my way home -I was as proud as if he had been my own son. It was a gallant deed, -and well deserves the Cross. He’ll be getting his commission some day. -Lieutenant Baxter! That will stir the Glen, eh?’” Then they touch on the -matter of the farm, and the tears come to Burnbrae’s eyes. “‘Athocht,’ -he said, ‘when yir message cam, that maybe ye hed anither mind than yir -factor, and wud send me back tae Jean wi’ guid news in ma mooth.’ - -“‘Gin it be yir wull that we flit, A’ll mak nae mair complaint, an’ -there’s nae bitterness in ma hert. But A wud like ye tae ken that it ’ill -be a sair pairtin’. - -“‘For twa hundred years an’ mair there’s been a Baxter at Burnbrae and a -Hay at Kilspindie; ane wes juist a workin’ farmer, an’ the other a belted -earl, but gude freends an’ faithfu’; an’, ma Lord, Burnbrae wes as dear -tae oor fouk as the castle wes tae yours. - -“‘A mind that day the Viscount cam’ o’ age, an’ we gaithered tae wush him -weel, that A saw the pictures o’ the auld Hays on yir walls, an’ thocht -hoo mony were the ties that bund ye tae yir hame. - -“We haena pictures nor gowden treasures, but there’s an auld chair at -oor fireside, an’ A saw ma grandfather in it when A wes a laddie at the -schule, an’ A mind him tellin’ me that his grandfather hed sat in lang -afore. It’s no worth muckle, an’ it’s been often mended, but A’ll no like -tae see it carried oot frae Burnbrae. - -“‘There is a Bible, tae, that hes come doon, father tae son, frae 1690, -and ilka Baxter hes written his name in it, an’ “farmer at Burnbrae,” but -it’ll no’ be dune again, for oor race ’ill be awa frae Burnbrae for ever. - -“‘Be patient wi’ me, ma Lord, for it’s the laist time we’re like tae -meet, an’ there’s anither thing A want tae say, for it’s heavy on ma hert. - -“‘When the factor told me within this verra room that we maun leave, he -spoke o’ me as if A hed been a lawless man, an’ it cut me mair than ony -ither word. - -“‘Ma Lord, it’s no’ the men that fear their God that ’ill brak the laws, -an’ A ken nae Baxter that wes ither than a loyal man tae his King and -country. - -“‘Ma uncle chairged wi’ the Scots Greys at Waterloo, and A mind him -tellin’, when A wes a wee laddie, hoo the Hielanders cried oot, “Scotland -for ever,” as they passed. - -“‘A needna tell ye aboot ma brither, for he wes killed by yir side afore -Sebastopol, and the letter ye sent tae Burnbrae is keepit in that Bible -for a heritage. - -“‘A’ll mention naething aither o’ ma ain laddie, for ye’ve said mair than -wud be richt for me, but we coont it hard that when oor laddie hes shed -his blude like an honest man for his Queen, his auld father and mither -sud be driven frae the hame their forebears hed for seeven generations.’” - -What a family! The sergeant with the V. C., ma uncle who chairged wi’ the -Scots Greys, and ma brither who wes killed by yir side afore Sebastopol, -and, of course, the Bible has to be lugged in. What wonder that at this -outburst of Scottish reticence, so to say, Lord Kilspindie rose to his -feet. In the twinkling of a paragraph or two the shallow, monstrous, -black-hearted English factor is, need one say, coming in for a bit of his -Lordship’s mind. - -“‘You’ll reduce the rent to the old figure, and put in the name of John -Baxter, and let it be for the longest period we ever give on the estate.’ - -“‘But, Lord Kilspindie … I … did you know⸺’ - -“‘Do as I command you without another word,’ and his Lordship was fearful -to behold.” - -Baxter goes home to his farm victor. The news goes down the Glen,—or up -it as the case may be,—and the question arises as to what Baxter is going -to do with the farm that has been denuded of live stock and implements, -and before you can say Jack Robinson every man who has made a purchase at -the Burnbrae roup is off to Burnbrae with his purchase and dumps it down -and leaves it there, free, gratis, and for nothing. - -Now the whole of this story is simply ridiculous. Even if one swallowed -the English factor who had turned an old tenant out of his farm on a -question of kirk; even if one swallowed the neighbourly bidding up at -the roup (not to mention the Victoria Cross and the fighting uncle and -brither), Dr. Maclaren cannot make us believe that a Scotchman would -part freely and without price with anything that he had once bought. And -what a reflection it is upon the dulness of the patient, resigned, and -tear-stricken Burnbrae, that he did not have the presence of mind to -address dear, good Earl of Kilspindie before the roup came off! But had -he done that, of course, Dr. Ian Maclaren could not have made his point -as to the incredible generosity of the dwellers about Drumtochty. - -But the Glen could boast much more remarkable men than Burnbrae. There is -Drumsheugh, about as pale a martyr as a martyr-loving people could wish -for. Drumsheugh passed in the Glen for a hard man and a miser, “a wratch -that ’ill hae the laist penny in a bargain, and no spend a saxpence -gin he can keep it.” But Drumsheugh was sairly misjudged. He carried -his tribble for mair than thirty year, and then unburdened himself of -it over the whiskey to his friend, Dr. Maclure. “‘It wes for anither A -githered, an’ as fast as A got the gear A gied it awa’,’ and Drumsheugh -sprang to his feet, his eyes shining; ‘it wes for love’s sake A haggled -an’ schemed, an’ stairved an’ toiled, till A’ve been a byword at kirk an’ -market for nearness; A did it a’, an’ bore it a’, for ma love, an’ for -… ma love A wud hae dune ten times mair.’” Naturally, and the lady in -the case was named Marget, the bonniest as weel as the noblest o’ weemen -(they all are). Well, Drumsheugh fell in love with Marget when she was -in her bloom. With the true Scottish reticence, however, he omitted to -mention his condition to the object of his affection, so that she went -off quite properly and married a feckless person named Whinnie, who, -being feckless, got himself into persistent holes for money, so that -Whinnie and Marget were continually being threatened with the loss of -their happy home, and all the time Drumsheugh, for love’s sake, kept on -sending money through his solicitors in the name of Whinnie’s rich uncle -in America. For thirty years Whinnie continued to be a drain on his -purse, and Drumsheugh spake no word, but went on loving Marget all the -time. Being made the recipient of this astonishing confidence, Maclure -is for posting off to Marget right away, and she, good woman, posts as -swiftly off to Drumsheugh. It is a case of ae fond kiss and dinna peety -me, Marget; A’ve hed ma reward, an’ A’m mair than content; and we wind -up with the biblical reflection that “They which shall be accounted -worthy … neither marry nor are given in marriage … but are as the angels -of God in Heaven”; which is all very pretty and all very Scotch, and all -made to sell. We may note, however, that Drumsheugh did not stand alone -in Drumtochty for his devotion to a lost love. The fetch is too easy and -too safe for Dr. Maclaren to allow himself the use of it only once. There -was a man in Drumtochty who had been counted a cynic and a railer against -“merridge,” even as Drumsheugh was accounted a miser. In the course of -nature this man, Jamie Soutar, came to die. On his death bed he remarked -to a friend, “‘Wha sed A wes against merridge, Doctor Davidson?’ and -Jamie’s face flushed. ‘Did ever man or woman hear me speak lichtly o’ the -mystery o’ love? The Glen hes thocht me an auld cankered bachelor, an’ -A’ve seen a lass leave her lad’s side on the sicht o’ me. Little they -kent!’” And it transpires that “‘forty-five years syne A met … a lassie -near Kildrummie, an’ A cam tae love her aince and for ever, an’ we hed … -seeven evenin’s thegither. When A cam the next day she wesna there, an’ A -hoddit amang the trees for a ploy; but it wes lang waitin’, for she didna -come, an’ A gaed hame wi’ fear in ma hert.… - -“‘A set aff tae her hoose, and ilka turn o’ the road A lookit for Menie. -Aince ma hert loupit in ma breist like a birdie in its cage, for a wumman -cam’ along the near road frae Kildrummie, but it wesna Menie. - -“‘When A saw her brither wi’ his face tae Drumtochty, A kent, afore he -said a word, that he wes seekin’ me, an’ that Menie was deid. Never a -tear cam’ that day tae ma een, an’ he telt me, stannin’ in the middle o’ -the road, where it begins tae gae doon the hill: - -“‘It wes her throat, an’ the doctor wes feared frae the first day. The -nicht she didna come she wes carried (delirious); she … said, “Jamie, -Jamie,” ower an’ ower again, an’ wanted tae rise. - -“‘Aboot daybreak she cam’ tae hersel’, and knew oor faces. “A’m deein’,” -she said, “an’ A didna keep ma tryst last nicht. It’s ower late noo, an’ -A’ll no see him on earth again. - -“‘“Tell James Soutar that it wesna ma blame A failed, an’ gie him ma -Bible,” an’ a while aifter she said, “A’ll keep the tryst wi’ him some -day,” an’ … that’s a’.’” - -After that, any child could tell you what Jamie’s “last words” would be. - -“‘Menie,’ he cried, suddenly, with a new voice, ‘A’ve keepit oor tryst.’” - -Heaven help us! - - - - -VI - -BARBIE - - -From Thrums and Drumtochty the blest to Barbie, which is also in -Scotland, may be fairly described as a far cry. In the beautiful -communities conceived by Drs. Barrie and Maclaren the milk of human -nature flows like a river; everybody lives, not for his or her foolish -self, but for somebody else; everybody dies for somebody else; all -bachelors are faithful to the sweethearts of their youth “for forty -year and more”; all the women make the best butter in Galloway; all the -girls are pretty and angelic of temperament, and, in short, Thrums and -Drumtochty are little bits of heaven dropped on to the map of Scotland. -But Barbie is not of heavenly origin in the least. The chronicles of -Barbie have been put into print for us by Mr. George Douglas, and he -calls his book _The House with the Green Shutters_. If he had wanted a -just title for it, he might very well have called it “The Unspeakable -Scot.” Nowhere in letters does there exist such an unsophisticated -revelation of the minds and habits of a savage and barbarous people as is -to be found in this book. It is fiction, of course; but it is that kind -of fiction which has been written from observation, and is practically a -human document. The Barbie crowd do not waste any time on little acts of -kindness; there is not a man among them who cannot fairly be termed mean. -If meanness were the only fault one might be able to put up with Barbie; -but the inhabitants have graver failings. They are all dour; they are -all bitter-hearted; they are all greedy; they are all merciless and full -of the wickedest guile. Gourlay, who is the hero of the piece, counts -among the most unpleasant persons one has ever met in a book. He has “the -black glower in his een,” and all the Scotch qualities of envy, hatred, -overweening pride, and tyranny find full expression in him. For years -he has trampled the rest of Barbie under his feet, and all Barbie hates -him. “He had been born and bred in Barbie, and he knew his townsmen—oh, -yes—he knew them. He knew they laughed because he had no gift of the -gab, and could never be provost, or bailie, or elder, or even chairman -of the gasworks! ‘Oh, verra well, verra well, let Connal and Brodie and -Allardyce have the talk, and manage the town’s affairs’ (he was damned -if they should manage his!); he, for his part, preferred the substantial -reality.” So that he treated Barbie with contempt; he had a civil word -for nobody, and his manners were as bad as only Scotch manners can be. It -was these very manners, however, that helped to bring about his downfall. -One fine morning a stranger walked into Barbie; he was a Scotchman, -and in his appearance there was “an air of dirty and pretentious -well-to-doness,” which is the Scotch way. Well, this stranger ran up -against Mr. Gourlay. - -“‘It’s a fine morning, Mr. Gourlay!’ simpered the stranger. His air was -that of a forward tenant who thinks it a great thing to pass remarks on -the weather with his laird. - -“Gourlay cast a look at the dropping heavens. - -“‘Is that _your_ opinion?’ said he. ‘I fail to see ’t mysel’.…’ - -“The stranger laughed, a little deprecating giggle. ‘I meant it was fine -weather for the fields,’ he explained.… - -“‘Are _you_ a farmer, then?’ Gourlay nipped in, with his eye on the white -waistcoat. - -“‘Oh—oh, Mr. Gourlay! A farmer, no. Hi—hi! I’m not a farmer. I daresay, -now, you have no mind of _me_!’ - -“‘No,’ said Gourlay, regarding him very gravely and steadily with his -dark eyes. ‘I cannot say, sir, that I have the pleasure of remembering -_you_!’ - -“‘Man, I’m a son of auld John Wilson of Brigabee!’ - -“‘Oh, auld Wilson, the mole-catcher!’ said contemptuous Gourlay. ‘What’s -this they christened him now? “Toddling Johnnie,” was it noat?’ - -“Wilson coloured. But he sniggered to gloss over the awkwardness of the -remark. A coward always sniggers when insulted, pretending that the -insult is only a joke of his opponent, and therefore to be laughed aside. -So he escapes the quarrel which he fears a show of displeasure might -provoke. - -“But, though Wilson was not a handy man, it was not timidity only that -caused his tame submission to Gourlay.…” - -Here you have the two types of Scotchmen presented in speaking -likenesses, namely, the bully, primed with “repressiveness” and “force of -character,” and the giggling lickspittle who does not know how to fight -and consequently falls back on livid revenges. - -Later, Wilson ventures on a remark about business. Gourlay retorts: - -“‘Business! Heavens, did ye hear him talking? What did Toddling Johnny’s -son know about business? What was the world coming to? To hear him -setting up his face there and asking the best merchant in the town -whether business was brisk! It was high time to put him in his place, the -conceited upstart, shoving himself forward like an equal!’ - -“For it was the assumption of equality implied by Wilson’s manner that -offended Gourlay—as if mole-catcher’s son and monopolist were discussing, -on equal terms, matters of interest to them both. - -“‘Business!’ he said, gravely. ‘Well, I’m not well acquainted with your -line, but I believe mole-traps are cheap—if ye have any idea of taking up -the oald trade!’ - -“Wilson’s eyes flickered over him, hurt and dubious. His mouth -opened—then shut—then he decided to speak after all. ‘Oh, I was thinking -Barbie would be very quiet,’ said he, ‘compared wi’ places where they -have the railway! I was thinking it would need stirring up a bit.’ - -“‘Oh, ye was thinking that, was ye?’ birred Gourlay, with a stupid man’s -repetition of his jibe. ‘Well, I believe there’s a grand opening in the -moleskin line, so _there’s_ a chance for ye! My quarrymen wear out their -breeks in no time!’ - -“Wilson’s face, which had swelled with red shame, went a dead white. -‘Good morning!’ he said, and started rapidly away with a vicious dig of -his stick upon the wet road. - -“Goo-ood mor-r-ning, serr!’ Gourlay birred after him; ‘goo-ood -mor-r-ning, serr!’ He felt he had been bright this morning. He had put -the branks on Wilson!” - -In spite of his smallness and rattiness, Wilson is not without his Scotch -feelings, so that he goes away and schemes. And the end of his scheming -is that he becomes a trade rival of Gourlay’s in Barbie. Perhaps man -never had a more unscrupulous or fiendishly cunning trade rival. The end -of it is that Gourlay is brought to the verge of bankruptcy and dies -miserably, while Barbie is left to go on its wicked way rejoicing. This -fight between two ugly natures is watched by the population of Barbie -with great zest; the combatants are continually egged on by the sarcastic -comments of the neebors, who practically hate them both as they hate -one another. And the result is a picture which rivals in hideousness -anything of the kind which has hitherto been attempted. From _The House -with the Green Shutters_ one is able to gather what life in a Scotch -township really means. One understands, too, how it comes to pass that -the Scotchmen one meets in London are so wanting in the qualities which -render communication between men possible and tolerable. Persons who -have spent their youth in such a township as Barbie must of necessity -have altogether wrong views about life and the reason for it. Their hand -is against every man; to get and to keep by fair means or foul is their -sole ambition, and of the finer feelings which keep existence sweet they -know absolutely nothing. It is a squalid picture, and not in the least -flattering to Scotland. Yet the Scotch critics have not ventured to -deny its authenticity; indeed, they admit that there is a great deal in -it. Mr. Douglas, the author of _The House with the Green Shutters_, is -himself a Scotchman, and to malign his country is about the last thing -you may expect from a Scotch writer; his tendency usually is the other -way. To put Thrums, Drumtochty, and Barbie into one vessel, as it were, -to mix them and make a blend of them is probably to get at the truth -about the Scot as he lives and moves in his native element. And when -one has done this, one can only imagine that the average Scotchman is a -compound of two things,—to wit, the knave and the fool. - - - - -VII - -THE BARD - - -In England “the Bard” stands for Shakespeare; in Scotland, of course, -when you say “the Bard” you mean Robert Burns. Nothing that Scotland -ever possessed has abided so firmly in the heart of the Scotchman as -“the Bard”—Robert Burns, that is to say. An Englishman can forget that -Shakespeare ever existed. A Scotsman never forgets that Robert Burns was -a Scotchman. Morn, noon, and night he will talk to you of Burns if you -give him half a chance. Till Dr. J. M. Barrie and Dr. Crockett came in, -the Scotchman had no other book but a dog’s-eared Burns, from which work -he gathered his views of life, including justification for his vices. -Round the person and poetry of Burns numberless well-meaning people have -found it worth their while to write a literature. There was a time when -“the Bard” received praise only from mere poets. Keats wrote sonnets -about him; Montgomery offered him the usual graceful tribute; Wordsworth -mentioned him cheek by jowl with Chatterton; and even Eliza Cook had her -metrical say about him. Then the prose men came along—Carlyle, Stevenson, -Henley. Carlyle took the man Burns and set him up for a tremendous -genius, with “a head of gold.” Stevenson, whom probably for this reason -the Scotch do not love, ventured to suggest that Mr. Burns had “feet of -clay.” Mr. Henley followed and accentuated the feet of clay, greatly -to the annoyance of all Scotland. It ill becomes the present writer to -attempt to do what has already been done so well, therefore he will say -nothing about either heads of gold or feet of clay. But Robert Burns is -everybody’s property, and one may crave leave even at this late day to -say about him the thing that one believes. The whole truth about Burns -may be summed up in half a dozen words. He was a poet, he was a loose -liver, and he was a ploughman. And if one looks through his writings, one -is forced to the conclusion that he owes his fame to the circumstances -that he was a loose liver and a ploughman rather than to the circumstance -that he was a poet. To take up the works of Burns in one volume and to -glance through them haphazard, assaying here a page and there a page, is -to come to a knowledge of him which is rather staggering. As I write, I -have before me the Globe Edition of the _Complete Works of Robert Burns_, -edited by Alexander Smith. It is a portly book, and one is aware that -it contains matter which is really of excellent quality, considered as -poetry. Yet to test it by chance openings is to perceive that in the main -Burns, as poet, has been vastly overrated. On page 211, for example, -which is about the middle of the book, I find five pieces, not one of -which is good enough to grace a common valentine. We lead off with -_Peggy’s Charms_: - - My Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form, - The frost of hermit age might warm; - My Peggy’s worth, my Peggy’s mind, - Might charm the first of human kind. - I love my Peggy’s angel air, - Her face so truly, heavenly fair, - Her native grace so void of art; - But I adore my Peggy’s heart. - -Not to put too fine a point upon it, this is arrant drivel, villainously -rhymed. Then comes _Up in the Morning Early_: - - Up in the morning’s no’ for me, - Up in the morning early; - When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw, - I’m sure it’s winter fairly. - - Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, - The drift is driving sairly; - Sae loud and shrill’s I hear the blast, - I’m sure it’s winter fairly. - - The birds sit chittering in the thorn, - A’ day they fare but sparely; - And lang’s the night frae e’en to morn, - I’m sure it’s winter fairly. - -One surmises _Up in the Morning Early_ belongs to “that great body -of treasurable songs with which Burns has dowered his countrymen.” -On the face of it, to find sorrier stuff one would have to visit an -English music hall. There is not a glimmer of poetry in any one of -the twelve lines, and the composition as a whole might have been -written by a precocious infant in a Glasgow Board School. After this -precious production we are regaled with the appended touching piece of -sentimentalism: - - Tho’ cruel fate should bid us part, - As far’s the pole and line; - Her dear idea round my heart - Should tenderly entwine. - - Tho’ mountains frown and deserts howl, - And oceans roar between; - Yet, dearer than my deathless soul, - I still would love my Jean. - -The spectacle of a gentleman having somebody’s “dear idea” entwined, -whether tenderly or otherwise, round his heart would surely set a cat -laughing. And the loving of Jean, though mountains frown and deserts -howl and oceans roar between, is clearly the merest fustian. Follows _I -Dreamed I Lay Where Flowers were Springing_—a stupid sort of dream to -say the least of it. The flowers, it seems, were springing “gaily in -the sunny beam,” and the poet, it seems, not only “dreamed that he lay -among them” but, that he was “list’ning to the wild birds singing by a -falling crystal stream,” which is a very common and hackneyed thing for a -tenth-rate poet to do. But mark: - - Straight the sky grew black and daring; - Thro’ the woods the whirlwinds rave; - Trees with aged arms were warring, - O’er the swelling, drumlie wave. - - Such was my life’s deceitful morning, - Such the pleasures I enjoy’d; - But lang or noon, loud tempests storming - A’ my flowery bliss destroy’d. - Tho’ fickle fortune has deceived me, - She promised fair, and performed but ill; - Of monie a joy and hope bereav’d me, - I bear a heart shall support me still. - -The moral here is as lame as the meter, and in the open market to-day the -“poem” is not worth fourpence. We finish the page with _Bonie Ann_: - - Ye gallants bright, I red you right, - Beware of bonie Ann: - Her comely face sae fu’ o’ grace, - Your heart she will trepan. - Her een sae bright, like stars by night, - Her skin is like the swan; - Sae jimpy lac’d her genty waist, - That sweetly ye might span. - - Youth, grace, and love, attendant move, - And pleasure leads the van; - In a’ their charms, and conquering arms, - They wait on bonie Ann. - The captive bands may chain the hands, - But love enslaves the man: - Ye gallants braw, I red you a’ - Beware of bonie Ann. - -One notes that three out of these five lucubrations have to do with -love, and one wonders how a man who went about with such ill-considered -love-verses in his pocket ever got a woman to look at him. - -To take our life in our hands once more, we open on page 153. Here we -have a choice selection of short pieces, and feeble, which we reproduce -as they stand: - -TO JOHN M’MURDO, ESQ. - - O, could I give thee India’s wealth, - As I this trifle send! - Because thy joy in both would be - To share them with a friend. - But golden sands did never grace - The Heliconean stream; - Then take what gold could never buy— - An honest Bard’s esteem. - -ON THE DEATH OF A LAP-DOG, NAMED ECHO - - In wood and wild, ye warbling throng, - Your heavy loss deplore; - Now half-extinct your powers of song, - Sweet Echo is no more. - - Ye jarring, screeching things around, - Scream your discordant joys; - Now half your din of tuneless sound - With Echo silent lies. - -LINES WRITTEN AT LOUDEN MANSE - - The night was still, and o’er the hill - The moon shone on the castle wa’; - The mavis sang, while dew-drops hang - Around her on the castle wa’. - - Sae merrily they danced the ring, - Frae eenin’ till the cock did craw; - And the o’erword o’ the spring, - Was Irvine’s bairns are bonie a’. - -These three effusions, dear reader, are really and truly the work of -Burns—or, if you prefer it, of Burrrrrns. In despair one hunts up -something for which the man is noted. _Scots Wha Hae_ one thinks, will -serve. It has been described as noble, and marvellous, and inspiring, and -Heaven knows what besides. Here it is: - - Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled, - Scots whom Bruce has often led; - Welcome to your gory bed - Or to victorie! - - Now’s the day, and now’s the hour, - See the front o’ battle lour, - See approach proud Edward’s power— - Chains and slaverie! - - Wha will be a traitor knave? - Wha can fill a coward’s grave? - Wha sae base as be a slave?— - Let him turn and flee! - - Wha for Scotland’s king and law - Freedom’s sword will strongly draw, - Freeman stand or freeman fa’, - Let him follow me! - - By Oppression’s woes and pains, - By your sons in servile chains, - We will drain our dearest veins, - But they shall be free. - - Lay the proud usurpers low! - Tyrants fall in every foe, - Liberty’s in every blow, - Let us do or dee! - -As a matter of fact, _Scots Wha Hae_ is one those poems which most people -have heard about and few people have read. For this reason I print it -_in extenso_ and commend it to the consideration of the critical. Is it -really noble, or marvellous, or inspiring? Would it pass muster as a new -performance? Is it a whit the better, or sounder, or more convincing than -_God Save the King_, which everybody cheerfully admits is not poetry? I, -for one, hae me doots. - -Like Artemus Ward and writers of “Wot-the-Orfis-Boy Finks” order, -Burns owes much of his seeming inspiration and humour to an uncouth -orthography. Put into decent English, many of his most vaunted lays -amount to nothing at all. Indeed, practically the whole of the _poetry_ -which came from his pen could be compressed into a book of fifty pages. -I do not say that much of the matter one would have to include in those -fifty pages is not matter of an exceptional and extraordinary quality. -Mr. Henley has told us that in the vernacular, Burns, at his best, -touches the highest level; and with this pronouncement nobody who knows -the difference between good writing and bad will quarrel. But I do -assert that the best of Burns is not sufficient, either in quality or -quantity, to justify the absurd fame which has been bestowed upon him -by his countrymen. James I., whom the average Scotchman barely knows by -name, was, taking him all in all, quite as good a poet as Burns. So was -Barbour; so was Drummond of Hawthornden; and, I had almost added, so were -Stevenson and Robert Buchanan. The question naturally arises, How comes -it to pass that Burns who, excepting by a fluke, was always more or less -of a middling poet, has come to rank as the finest thing in letters that -Scotland ever produced? The answer to that question is simple enough. In -spite of _The Cotter’s Saturday Night_, and two or three other pieces -which are the delight and mainstay of the Scotch kirk-goer, Burns was -undoubtedly the poet of licence and alcoholism. Also he was a ploughman. - - Should humble state our mirth provoke! - What folly to misca’ that, - The sapling grows a stately oak, - Wi’ spreading shade and a’ that. - For a’ that and a’ that, - His toils and cares and a’ that, - We’ve seen a ploughman crowned at last - The king o’ men for a’ that. - -After illicit love and flaring drunkenness, nothing appeals so much to -Scotch sentiment as having been born in the gutter. In this matter of -admiration for people who attain notoriety from a basis of humble origins -I do not know that the Scotch stand entirely alone. At the present -moment, much fuss is being made in the newspapers over a policeman who -has seen fit to devote himself to the painting of pictures, and who has -succeeded in getting one of his canvases hung at Burlington House; and -if I remember rightly there used to be a postman poet of whom sundry -highly placed critics wrote sundry kindly encouraging and gratuitous -things. Also the English press is apt to tell us that the great Lord -So-and-So was originally a bootblack, and that the great Mr. So-and-So -went to Canada with seven shillings in his pocket. In fact, the prodigy -who began on nothing, and ultimately became rich or famous, is a figure -which British humanity dearly loves. And Burns, as we have seen, was a -ploughman. What special excellence may lie in being a ploughman nobody -but a Scotchman may perceive. In England our booms on humble talent are -of short duration. Clare and Ebenezer Elliott both had their little day, -and ceased to be. But the Scotch ploughman persists, and the fact that -he was a ploughman helps him to persist, and is a great source of pride -to the Scotch. The real reason, however, why Burns became, and continues -to be, a sort of patron saint to the peoples north of the Tweed is, as I -have already suggested, that he was an erotic writer and a condoner of -popular vices. Turn where you will in his precious works, you will find -that drunkenness and impropriety are matters for which he has unqualified -sympathy. Whiskey and women are the subjects which furnish forth the -majority of his flights. He writes of both with a freedom which would not -nowadays be tolerated, and the moral effect of what he has to say cannot -be regarded as otherwise than detrimental. I have before pointed out that -one of Mr. Henley’s critics has asserted that the standard of morality -in the rural districts of Scotland is much lower to-day than it was in -Burns’s time. The inference is obvious. Burns, every Scotchman tells you, -and tells you truly, has played no small part in moulding the sentiments -and tendencies of the Scotch people as we know them. It was he who gave -them their first notion of bumptious independence; it was he who taught -them that “a man’s a man for a’ that”—which, on the whole, is a monstrous -fallacy; it was he who averred that whiskey and freedom gang together; -and it was he who gave the countenance of song to shameful and squalid -sexuality. In a great number of Burns’s love songs the suggestion is of -the lowest. One could take a selection of these songs, print them in a -little book, have them sold in the streets of London at a penny, and be -prosecuted at Bow Street for one’s trouble. The man’s mind was not clean; -he made the Muse an instrument for the promulgation of skulduddery (I -will not vouch for the orthography, but every Scotchman knows what I -mean); he degraded and prostituted his intellect, and earned thereby the -love and worship of a people who appear to have a sympathetic weakness -for erotic verse if it be but Scotch. - -It is hard to get the truth about Burns out of the Scotch writers; yet -the more honest among them have always had a sneaking suspicion that he -was an overrated poet. Somehow, in perusing their estimates, one has a -feeling that Burns is not so much being expounded as defended. Stevenson, -who tried to be just, has come nearer the mark about him than any writer -of our own time; but even Stevenson lacked the courage to go the whole -hog. Of Burns, the writer, he could be brought to say nothing more -trenchant than that he “had a tendency to borrow a hint,” and that he was -“indebted in a very uncommon degree to Ramsay and Fergusson.” And, he -adds, by way of defence, that “when we remember Burns’s obligation to his -predecessors, we must never forget his immense advances on them.” Perhaps -not. - -As to Burns, the man, it is safe to say that a more profligate person -has seldom figured on the slopes of Parnassus. In love he was as -carnal as he was false. He canted and prated and pretended, but his -relations with women will not bear examination. His life as a whole -would have discredited a dustman, much less a poet. He whined about his -“misfortunes,” and advertised them and made much out of them; but nobody -in his senses can sympathise with him. That he should be held up for a -model by Scottish writers and Scottish preachers is a crying scandal. -The king-o’-men cackle is the sheerest impertinence. Burns never was the -king o’ men. He was never even a decent living man. He never had a rag of -conduct wherewithal to cover himself. He was simply an incontinent yokel -with a gift for metricism. That his memory should stand for so much in -Scotland constitutes a very grave reflection upon the Scottish character -and the Scottish point of view. - - - - -VIII - -THE SCOT AS A CRITIC - - -Taking him all in all, the Scotch critic is a good deal of an anomaly. -To criticise is scarcely the Scotchman’s _forte_, his chief gifts lying -rather in the direction of admiration, particularly of admiration for -whatever is Scotch. But we have amongst us (and I do not wish him other -than a long and prosperous career) one Scotch critic—or, at any rate, -a Scotchman who passes for a critic. I refer, need it be said, to -Dr. William Archer. Dr. Archer is the dramatic critic of the _World_ -newspaper. Whenever I have looked into the _World_ newspaper, I have -found a page or so of Dr. Archer. His work appears to be done to the -satisfaction of his employers, and I have no fault to find with it, -excepting that I cannot bring myself to feel enthusiastic about it. To -tackle Dr. Archer flying, as it were, let us peep at his contribution to -the current number of his journal. Herein he deals with a play by Miss -Netta Syrett and preaches a little sermon to theatrical managers. - -“I admit, then [he says], that from the actor-manager’s point of view—his -quite legitimate and inevitable point of view under our accursed -system—the play has drawbacks that might well stand in the way of its -production. But if any manager read it and did not recognise that he was -face to face with an exceptional talent, and one of which, by judicious -encouragement, much might be made, then I say that he showed a deplorable -lack of discernment. This—hypothetic—manager ought to have sent for the -authoress and said, ‘Miss Syrett, I cannot, for such and such reasons, -produce this play. But there are scenes in it which show me that you have -the making of a playwright in you. Have you other ideas? Yes, of course -you have. Well, go home and draw me out the scenario of a play that you -think would suit me, and then come and let us talk it over. Remember, -I promise nothing, except my very best attention to anything you may -bring me. But that you shall have; and if you are not above taking hints -from my experience, you may be able to avoid certain trifling errors -and crudities into which you have fallen in this piece. Don’t be in a -hurry. You ladies, if I may say so, are apt to imagine that, when once -you have got an idea, a play can be improvised like a newspaper article -or a six shilling novel. This is a mistake. A play, to have any solid -value, must be carefully and laboriously built up. You will make false -steps, find yourself in blind alleys, and have to try back and start -afresh many and many a time. You will have days of discouragement, when -your characters refuse point-blank to do what you want them to. Probably -you will find in the end that you have given as much thought and labour -to every line of your play as you would to a whole page of a novel. But -if you are prepared to take your art seriously, you may rely upon my -taking seriously whatever you may offer me. And be assured of this, that -if you fail to do something really worth while, my disappointment will -be scarcely less than your own.’ In some such words, as it seems to me, -should the sagacious manager have addressed the authoress of _The Finding -of Nancy_.” - -Excellently intended, my dear Dr. Archer, excellently and honestly -intended. But could gratuitousness, or egregiousness, or flat-footedness -go further? Such an oration, happily, might come out of none but a -Scotch mouth or from any pen but that of a Scotchman. In point of -unnecessariness it rivals pretty well aught that I have had the felicity -to see in print. And it illustrates to admiration the Scotch faculty for -spreading out the commonplace and being sententious over it. - -What Dr. Archer’s view of the theatre may be nobody knows. In the -beginning of the speech I have quoted he refers to “our accursed -system,” so that there must be a screw loose somewhere. For years Dr. -Archer has been pounding away at this same system, and it seems to -continue. Nor has Dr. Archer made the slightest dint upon it. A little -while back, one of the wags in which London appears to abound pointed out -that plays praised by Dr. Archer invariably come in for the shortest of -runs. To which impeachment Dr. Archer replied, with great ingenuousness, -by printing a formidable list of plays which had survived his approval. -Another wag having said something against the Scotch in a paper called -_The Outlook_, Dr. Archer exclaimed, in cold type, “_Outlook_ indeed! -Methinks that north of the Tweed they will call it _Outrage_!” This, of -course, is a Scotch joke, and therefore an old one. In the year 600 or -thereabouts, Gregory the Great, noting the fair faces and golden hair of -some youths in the market-place of Rome, enquired from what country the -men came. “They are Angles,” was the reply. “Not _Angles_,” quoth the -worthy Gregory, “but _angels_.” For thirteen centuries the pun of the -Bishop of Rome had remained decently tucked away in the history books. -And in 1901, Dr. Archer, who really is a wit, drags it forth and makes -another like it. - -All these, however, be small deer. If we wish to acquaint ourselves with -the true inwardness of Dr. Archer as critic, we must turn to his _magnum -opus_—that great guinea work of his, entitled _Poets of the Younger -Generation_. Now, on the question of modern poetry, and particularly of -the younger school of poets, people interested in poetry are always glad -to hear words of wisdom. Have we any contemporary poets? If so, are they -writing poetry for us, contemporary or otherwise? The subject invites. -Somehow and for some reason or other it invited Dr. Archer. Indeed, it -went further than inviting him; it inveigled him. No doubt the notion of -writing a book about poets came to him on one of his discouraging days. -He had been hammering, hammering, hammering at the theatre and “our -accursed system,” and he was fain for a softer job. What work could a -poor, tired critic take up outside the potter’s field of our accursed -system? When a critic gets into that frame of mind he always thinks of -the poets. Dr. Archer thought of the poets—the living poets—the poets -of the younger generation. Being a Scotchman, Dr. Archer thought, and -straightway set to work. He appears to have plodded steadfastly through -the writings of no fewer than thirty-three of the minor contemporary -poets of England and America. Of each of these thirty-three children of -the Muse, beginning with the Rev. H. C. Beeching and ending with William -Butler Yeats, he wrote painful notices, bejewelled with excerpts, put -them into a book, and got them published by Mr. John Lane. With the -beauty or otherwise of his thirty-three notices, in spite of their -exquisite thirty-three-ness, I do not propose greatly to concern myself. -Their general drift and tenor may be inferred from the following -examples, culled from the article on Mr. Kipling: - -“Far be it from me to disparage _Scots Wha Hae_, but I am not sure that -it possesses the tonic quality of the refrain of Mr. Kipling’s song of -defeat: - - An’ there ain’t no chorus ’ere to give, - Nor there ain’t no band to play; - But I wish I was dead ’fore I done what I did - Or seen what I’d seed that day! - -What in the name of goodness have _Scots Wha Hae_ and these four lines -got to do with one another? How can they be compared, except only as -verse, and where, oh where, does the tonic quality of the Kipling lines -come in? Again: - -“In all the poetry of warfare, was there ever a more exactly observed and -yet imaginative touch than that which describes the guns of the enemy -‘shaking their bustles like ladies so fine’? It is grotesque, and it is -magnificent.” - -As a matter of fact it is not observed at all, and it is certainly not -magnificent. Ladies do not shake their bustles. Nowadays, indeed, they -have no bustles to shake, and I should imagine that the sound criticism -about the simile is that it is too temporary and far fetched. And for the -third and last time: - -“Only by some narrow trick of definition can such work (_McAndrew’s -Hymn_) be excluded from the sphere of poetry; and poetry or no poetry, it -is certainly very strong and vital literature.” - -Here let us agree to differ with Dr. Archer, inasmuch as _McAndrew’s -Hymn_ is merely rhymed note-book eked out with a few phrases of the Doric. - -On the whole, _Poets of the Younger Generation_ might well have gone -down to posterity as a collection of middling and slightly wrong-headed -reviews, had Dr. Archer possessed a tithe of the shrewdness commonly -imputed to persons of his blood. But in putting the book before the -world, Dr. Archer could not be content to figure as a simple reviewer, -he must needs preface it with a pompous and bloated introduction. -“Appreciation [he says nobly] is the end and aim of the following pages. -The verb ‘to appreciate’ is used, rightly or wrongly, in two senses; -it sometimes means to realise, at other times to enhance the value of -a thing. I use the word in both significations. While attempting to -define, to appraise, the talent of individual poets, I hope to enhance -the reader’s estimate of the value of contemporary poetry as a whole.” -After several pages of this sort of thing we come upon a full-dress -“personal statement,” the like of which has never before been given us -by mortal critic. Practically, it is a biography of Dr. William Archer, -with special reference to Dr. William Archer’s spiritual and intellectual -growth and his “qualifications as a critic of poetry.” The pose and tone -of it are inimitable. It puts Burns and his “wild artless notes” utterly -to the blush. As Dr. Archer himself would say, it is grotesque and it is -magnificent. It begins with a rataplan on ancestral drums: “In the first -place, I am a pure bred Scotchman. There is some vague family legend of -an ancestor of my father’s having come from England with Oliver Cromwell -and settled in Glasgow; but I never could discover any evidence of it. -The only thing that speaks in its favour is that my name, common in -England, is uncommon in Scotland. My maternal grandfather and grandmother -both came of families that seem to have dwelt from time immemorial in -and about Perth, at the gateway of the Highlands. This being so, it -appears very improbable that there should not be some Keltic admixture -in my blood; but I cannot absolutely lay my finger on any ‘Mac’ among -my forbears. Both my parents belong to families of a deeply religious -cast of mind, ultra-orthodox in dogma, heterodox and even vehemently -dissenting on questions of Church Government. I can trace some way -back in my mother’s family a strain of good, sound, orthodox literary -culture and taste; of specially poetical faculty, little or none. It -may, perhaps, be worth mentioning that one of my great-grandfathers or -great-great-uncles printed—and I believe, edited—an edition of the -poets, much esteemed in its day.” - -Nothing could be better worth mentioning, Mr. Archer. Pray proceed: - -“The earliest symptom I can find in myself that can possibly be taken as -showing any marked relation to the poetic side of life, is an extreme -susceptibility (very clearly inherited from my father) to simple, -pathetic music. It is related that even in my infancy, one special -tune—the _Adeste Fideles_—if so much as hummed in my neighbourhood, -would always make me howl lustily; and, indeed, to this day it seems to -me infinitely pathetic. I have carried through life, without any sort -of musical gift, and with a very imperfect apprehension of tonality, -harmony, and the refinements and complexities of musical expression, this -keen sensibility to the emotional effect of certain lovely rhythms and -simple curves of notes. I am not sure that _Lascia ch’ie pranga, Che faer -farò senza Euridice_, and the cantabile in Chopin’s _Funeral March_, do -not seem to me the very divinest utterances of the human spirit, before -which all the achievements of all the poets fade and grow dim. But it is -all one to me (or very nearly so) whether they are reeled off on a barrel -organ or performed by the greatest singers—the finest orchestra. Nay, my -own performance of them, in the silent chamber concerts of memory, are -enough to bring the tears to my eyes.” - -Good man! - -“I cannot remember that the poetry I learned at school interested or -pleased me particularly—‘On Linden, when the sun was low,’ ‘FitzJames -was brave, yet to his heart,’ ‘The Assyrian came down like the wolf on -the fold,’ and so forth.… The first composition of mine that ever found -its way into print was some sort of a rhapsody (in prose) on Byron at -Missolonghi. The attack passed off in six months or so, and I am not -aware that it left behind any permanent ill effects. At the same time I -read the greater part of _The Faerie Queene_ with a certain pleasure, -but without any real appreciation.” - -Wordsworth this remarkable youth “read for a college essay”; “Coleridge -came to him in the train of Wordsworth”; and at seventeen _The Ancient -Mariner_ seemed to him “the most magical of poems.” Tennyson he read -“with pleasure”; Keats “had not yet taken hold” of him; and Milton he -“could not read.” Ultimately, however, he came to appreciate Milton in -this wise. “I spent my twentieth year idling in Australia, and, being -somewhat hard up for literature, I set myself to read _Paradise Lost_ -from beginning to end, at the rate of a book a day. I accomplished the -task, but it bored me unspeakably.… I did not return to it for seven -or eight years, until one day I found myself starting on a railway -journey with nothing to read, and paid a shilling at a station bookstall -for a pocket _Paradise Lost_.” On that journey the scales fell from -Dr. Archer’s eyes. Ever since, _Paradise Lost_ has been to him “an -inexhaustible mine of the pure gold of poetry.” Later, we learn that -Dr. Archer’s own metrical efforts have been “almost entirely confined to -comic, or, at any rate, journalistic, verse,” though he “never attained -even the fluency of the practised newspaper rhymester.” Greek and Latin -verses, he adds, “were undreamt of in the Scottish curriculum of my day. -Practically we knew not what quantity meant.” - -Altogether, therefore, Dr. William Archer’s “qualifications as a critic -of poetry” would seem to be, on his own showing, of a negative rather -than a positive order. He is a pure bred Scotchman; he may have a -little English blood in him, but he has not been able to trace it; he -is without any sort of musical gift; he likes his music “reeled off on -a barrel organ”; poetry had no charms for him till he was seventeen; -and he did not discover Milton’s “inexhaustible mine of the pure gold -of poetry” till he was twenty-seven or twenty-eight years of age. Also -at his college they “did not know what quantity meant.” Yet at the -age of forty-three he had “ready for press” five hundred pages of -appreciations of poets of the younger generation. It is truly marvellous -and prodigiously Scotch. And it sets one wondering. At what epoch in his -extraordinary life did Dr. Archer begin to take a critical interest in -the drama? Was he shovelled into that interest by the exigencies of his -work on newspapers, or did it come to him, like his love of Milton, on a -railway journey? Furthermore, how many of his brither Scots, who labour -so solemnly in the vineyard of literary journalism and plume themselves -on their “pull” in contemporary letters, are of the like origins and -possess the same disqualifications as Dr. William Archer? I doubt if one -per cent. of them is really competent. I know for a fact that ninety per -cent. of them are absolutely devoid of taste, much less of understanding -and vision, and that they exercise critical functions not because they -have insight or feeling for literature, but because “a living” and -certain petty powers are to be had out of it. The much vaunted “Scotch -pull” in criticism is without doubt the worst trouble that has ever -assailed English letters. In a great measure it has been responsible for -the general slackening and stodginess which have overtaken the whole -business during the past decade or so. Persons who write, not to mention -persons who read, know full well that at the present time criticism -is well nigh a dead letter in this country. Reviews are no longer -taken seriously either by authors or the public; the literary papers -languish, depending, for such revenue as they possess, upon publishers’ -advertisements instead of upon circulation; literary opinion has been -fined down to sheer puff on the one hand and flagrant abuse or neglect -on the other, and to be the friend or admiring acquaintance of certain -persons is become the only sure road to literary advancement. It is the -fashion to say that nobody, however ill-disposed, can stop the sale -of a good book, or keep the author of such a book out of his meed of -recognition. In the long result this is true. But waiting for the long -result is a weary business, particularly when you discover that there is -an inclination on the part of the people who have “the pull” to put the -clock back for you at every turn; what time they boom the work of their -“ain folk” and shout loudly and insistently for catch-penny mediocrity. -This, by the way, is not in any sense a “sore-head” asseveration; because -my own writings have, as a rule, been of so slender a nature that I have -marvelled to see them noticed at all. Besides, I do not think that I -am without friends even among the apostles of the “Scotch pull.” They -have done me many a service, and with a lively sense of favours to come -I hereby offer them gratitude. All the same, I should not be sorry to -see them disbanded. I should not be sorry to hear that never a one of -them was to be permitted again to set pen to paper in the capacity of -reviewer. Literary journalism would be all the sweeter and saner for such -a closure, and judging by the rates of payment they take, the “Scotch -pull” combination would be very little the poorer. - - -NOTE[15] - -The Scots opinion of Burns may perhaps be best illustrated by quoting a -Burns-Night oration. The speech appended below may be taken as a moderate -sample of what Burns’s admirers are in the habit of saying about him. I -am indebted to Dr. Ross’s volume, _Henley on Burns_, for the excerpt: -“Burns suffered more from remorse and genuine penitence than probably any -man who ever lived. Not only so, but the very bitterness of his cry, ‘God -be merciful to me a sinner,’ has been seized upon by his calumniators, -and used as a weapon to stab him behind his back. But leave Burns to -his Maker, and, keeping in view the parable of the Pharisee and the -publican, it is just possible, nay probable, that those who talk so -glibly about the sins of Burns may find at the great day of reckoning -that the penitent poet and the penitent publican are justified rather -than they. There are certain classes of people who must always look upon -Burns with doubt and suspicion. Many decent, worthy people, naturally -and properly disliking the clay, miss the gold. Many worthy teetotallers -dislike the poet on account of his drinking songs; but even they are -beginning to forgive him for writing _Willie brewed a peck o’ maut_ and -such like. The Pharisee and the hypocrite, throughout their generations, -will always dislike him, not because of his sins, but on account of his -satires: - - Oh ye wha are sae guid yersel’, - Sae pious and sae holy, - You’ve nought to do but mark an’ tell - Yer neebour’s fauts and folly; - Whose life is like a weel-gaun mill - Supplied in store o’ water: - The heapit clappers ebben still, - An’ still the clap plays clatter. - -“The ‘gigman’ and the clothes-horse can never take to Burns. He is not -sufficiently genteel for silly ladyism and spurious nobility: - - What though on hamely fare we dine, - Wear hodden gray, an’ a’ that, - Gie fules their silk, an’ knaves their wine, - A man’s a man for a’ that. - -“The ultra-Calvinist can never take to Burns, for Burns broke the back of -‘the auld licht.’ The genuine Calvinist of the poet’s time showed only -the dark side of the shield. Burns showed the bright: - - Where human weakness has come short, - Or frailty stepp’d aside, - Do thou, All Good, for such thou art, - In shades of darkness hide. - - Where with intention I have err’d, - No other plea I have, - But ‘Thou art good, and goodness still - Delighteth to forgive.’ - -“The golden calf is as much worshipped in England to-day as it was in the -desert four thousand years ago: - - If happiness have not her seat - And centre in the breast, - We may be wise and rich and great, - But never can be blest. - -“Burns will never be praised by those who dote upon forms, vestments, and -such like priestly trumpery, for he wrote _The Cottar’s Saturday Night_: - - Compared with this, how poor religion’s pride - In all the pomp of method and of art, - When men display to congregations wide - Religion’s every grace except the heart. - The Power incensed the pageant will desert, - The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; - But, haply, in some cottage, far apart, - Will hear, well pleased, the language of the soul, - And in his book of life the inmate poor enrol. - -“A child of the common people himself, Burns never deserted his class. He -taught the poor man that: - - The rank is but the guinea stamp, - The man’s the gowd for a’ that. - -“He ennobled honest labour: - - The honest man, though e’er sae puir, - Is king o’ men for a’ that. - -“He was the high priest of humanity: - - Man’s inhumanity to man - Makes countless thousands mourn. - - Affliction’s sons are brothers in distress; - A brother to relieve, how exquisite the bliss. - - It’s coming yet for a’ that, - That man to man the warld o’er - Shall brithers be, an’ a’ that. - -“Ay, Burns is like a great mountain, based on earth, towering towards -heaven—of a mixed character, containing gold, silver, brass, iron, and -clay, and from which every man, according to his taste, can become -enriched by the gold and the silver, or get mired in the clay. All that -is best in Burns (and that is nearly the whole) will remain a precious -possession with the Anglo-Saxon race in the ages yet to come. The Stars -and Stripes of our cousins across the sea—the great American people—will -ere long float side by side with the grand old flag that for a thousand -years has braved the battle and the breeze. And the Bible and Burns will -lie side by side in the homes of the reunited Anglo-Saxon race,—the -freest, bravest, and most liberty-loving people the world ever saw or -shall see.” - -It will be noted that herein Burns is made out to be an honest fellow who -went wrong only at times; also the mire in him is a small detail, his -best being nearly the whole of him; also that in the glorious days to -come, when the Anglo-Saxon races shall have fused into one great people, -Burns and the Bible are to be our great literary and ethical standby. - -As indicating the kind of abuse that the Scot is in the habit of -levelling at persons who disagree with him as to Burns, I likewise print -a set of verses aimed at Mr. Henley by one of Dr. Ross’s scarifiers: - - Ere disappointment, cauld neglect, and spleen - Had soured my bluid an’ jaundiced baith my een, - My saul aspired, upo’ the wings o’ rhyme, - To mount unscaithed to airy heichts sublime; - An’, like the lark, to drap, in music rare, - Braw sangs to cheer folks when their hearts were sair. - I struggled lang, but fand it a’ nae use, - Nocht paid, I saw, save arrogant abuse. - - “Blind fule,” I cried, “to fling your pearls to swine. - Awa’ wi’ dreams o’ laurell’d days divine! - Bid Fame guid-bye, and a’ sic feckless trash,— - Henceforth write naething but what brings ye cash.” - - I glower’d about for something worth my while— - Some _thing_ held dear—on whilk to “spew” my bile, - An’ fixt my e’e upo’ a certain bard, - Syne bocht a Jamieson, an’ studied hard; - An’ wha that hears me the vernacular speak - Wad think I learn’d the hale o’t in a week. - Weel up in Scotch, I set mysel’ to wark - To strip the _Poet_ to his very sark, - An’ gie the warld a pictur’ o’ the _Man_ - An’ a’ his _Doin’s_—on the cut-throat plan. - My book, gat up regairdless o’ expense, - Was hailed _the_ book by ilka man o’ sense; - Some “half-read” gowks ayont the Tweed micht sneer, - An’ name mysel’ in words no’ fit to hear; - I only leuch. The man himsel’ was deid— - _He_ couldna reach me, sae I didna heed. - -The author of this effusion must have known perfectly well that Mr. -Henley would have written just as he has written, if Burns had been -alive. The suggestion that “he couldna reach me, and I didna heed,” is -purely gratuitous and foolish. - - - - -IX - -THE SCOT AS BIOGRAPHER - - -There are two Scotch books of biography, all published, I believe, -within the last six years, which invariably raise my gorge. One of them -is _Margaret Ogilvy_, by Dr. J. M. Barrie; the second is _J. M. Barrie -and his Books_, by Dr. J. A. Hammerton. The first, dealing with a dead -mother, is a work that nothing but a sense of duty could induce me to -handle in the present connection. It has, however, been put before -the public without so much as an attempt at justification or apology, -and with the plain intention of being sold precisely in the manner of -other literary wares, and it must therefore take its chance. _Margaret -Ogilvy_ appears to have gone into no end of editions. It is an account -of the character and sayings of Dr. J. M. Barrie’s mother, viewed in -the light of Dr. Barrie’s own “literaryness.” I have no hesitation in -pronouncing it to be one of the most snobbish books that have issued from -the press any time this hundred years. It begins snobbishly, it goes on -snobbishly, and it ends snobbishly. Offered to the reading public as -a piece of fictional sentiment, it would still have been open to the -charge of mawkishness. Offered unblushingly as a transcript from the -life and for the perusal of all who care to purchase, deplorable is the -mildest epithet one can justly apply to it. Wordsworth writes somewhere -of a person “who would peep and botanise about his mother’s grave.” This -is exactly the feeling that a reading of _Margaret Ogilvy_ gives you. -Comparisons in such a case would be doubly odious. Yet one does not -find that Margaret Ogilvy, in spite of everything that her son has done -for her in the way of “keying-up” to literary requirements, was any the -sweeter, or any the nobler, or any the more intellectual than one may -presume the mother of any other writer of Dr. Barrie’s parts to have -been. She was a good mother, she gave birth to Dr. Barrie, she ministered -to him in childhood, she denied herself for him; she took pleasure in -his educational and literary progress, she offered him much advice; she -believed in “God” and “love,” and she died in the faith. The mothers of -most literary people have done as much. It has been left to Dr. Barrie to -snatch away the decent veil which hides the sanctities of life from the -common gaze, and to let all the world into the privacies of the filial -and maternal relation at five shillings a time. If I understand Margaret -Ogilvy aright, she would have cut off both her hands rather than permit -some of the things in this book to become the property of strangers, -sympathetic or otherwise. - -Of course, the excuse immediately forthcoming from Dr. Barrie’s friends -and admirers will be “the lesson.” It is the only excuse that can -possibly be raked up, and, like the majority of excuses, it is a poor -stick to lean upon. For “the lesson” of _Margaret Ogilvy_ simply amounts -to this, that conceit and self-advertisement may bring a man to the -silliest and least dignified of passes. In point of fact Dr. Barrie’s -“little study” is just as much a study of himself as of his mother. If it -shows Margaret Ogilvy in the figure of an excellent mother, it also shows -J. M. Barrie in the figure of a preternaturally excellent and dutiful -son. If it shows that Margaret Ogilvy was a simple, unsophisticated -woman of the people, it shows also that J. M. Barrie had compassion on -her intellectual shortcomings and was ever ready to humour the poor body -and to twinkle tolerantly on her whimsies, when he might, had he so -chosen, have withered her with a word. To take a sample passage: “Now -that I was an author, I must get into a club. But you should have heard -my mother on clubs! She knew of none save those to which you subscribe a -pittance weekly, and the London clubs were her scorn. Often I heard her -on them—she raised her voice to make me hear, whichever room I might be -in, and it was when she was sarcastic that I skulked the most: ‘Thirty -pounds is what he will have to pay the first year, and ten pounds a year -after that. You think it’s a lot o’ siller? Oh, no, you’re mista’en—it’s -nothing ava’. For the third part of thirty pounds you could rent a -four-roomed house, but what is a four-roomed house, what is thirty -pounds, compared to the glory of being a member of a club?’ … My wisest -policy was to remain downstairs when these withering blasts were blowing, -but probably I went up in self-defence. - -“‘I never saw you so pugnacious before, mother.’ - -“‘Oh,’ she would reply, promptly, ‘you canna expect me to be sharp in the -uptake when I am no’ a member of a club.’ - -“‘But the difficulty is in becoming a member. They are very particular -about whom they elect, and I daresay I shall not get in.’ - -“‘Well, I’m but a poor crittur (not being member of a club), but I think -I can tell you to make your mind easy on that head. You’ll get in, I’se -uphaud—and your thirty pounds will get in, too.’” - -And so on. Humour, of course! The sagacious, garrulous mother, the -highly diverted, patient son! The picture has pleased the Scotch and -English-speaking nations of two hemispheres. Yet is it of the stupidest -and the most foolish. - -On another page we get the following pretty piece of curtain lifting: ‘So -my mother and I go up the stair together. ‘We have changed places,’ she -says; ‘that was just how I used to help you up, but I’m the bairn now.’ -She brings out the Testament again; it was always lying within reach.… -And when she has read for a long time she ‘gives me a look,’ as we say in -the North, and I go out, to leave her alone with God.… Often and often -I have found her on her knees, but I always went softly away, closing -the door. I never heard her pray, but I know very well how she prayed, -and that, when that door was shut, there was not a day in God’s sight -between the worn woman and the little child.’ - -We can do without such books, Dr. J. M. Barrie, even though they sell -well. - -Even as Dr. Archer has discovered in _Paradise Lost_ an inexhaustible -mine of the pure gold of poetry, so have I found in Dr. J. A. Hammerton’s -_J. M. Barrie and his Books_ an inexhaustible fund of the pure gold of -Scotch opinion not only as to Dr. Barrie, but also as to other matters. -First let me string together a few pearls about Dr. Barrie. - -“I have seen it argued [says our excellent author] that the publication -of such a book as this is a reprehensible practice [_sic_], in that -it implies the elevation of its subject to the rank of a classic.… A -sufficient answer to this charge would seem to be that in such writers as -J. M. Barrie, Thomas Hardy, ‘Ian Maclaren,’ Rudyard Kipling, and several -others [_sic_], the public that reads books is vastly more interested -than it is in its mighty dead.” - -The collocation of “such writers” in this passage is as ingenious as it -is absurdly Scotch. - -“Among the literary men of the present day there is none who has been -more personal in his writings than Dr. Barrie; he is as personal in prose -as Byron was in poetry. His own heart, his own experiences, the lives of -his ‘ain folk,’ these have been the subjects out of which _his genius has -made literature_.” - -The italics are our own. - -“The main distinction of Nottingham journalism lies in the fact that it -is associated with the name of Dr. J. M. Barrie.… To-day the so-called -‘Press House’ is a tavern a few yards removed from the ‘Frying Pan,’ and -there penny-a-liners and half-fledged reporters drink beer and fancy -themselves full-blown journalists, carrying down the traditions of Billy -Kirker and that bright Bohemian band. But there are no Barries among -them.” - -Nottingham, evidently, is in a parlous way. - -“It is well known that Dr. Barrie’s start was like that of so many others -who have won their way to greatness in the Republic of Letters: a brief -spell of journalism, and then—the plunge into literature.” - -One can hear Dr. Barrie splashing about for dear life. - -“It had never occurred to him [Barrie] that his task lay so near his -hand; that to turn the lives of his fellow-townsmen into literature was -the way that God had chosen for him to make the age to come his own.” - -I should think not, indeed! - -“In Barrie’s case it was comparatively a short struggle, and two or three -years after the time when he found that Scots dialect was enough to damn -a book, he had succeeded in making it an attraction; presently its charm -became the most striking feature of contemporary letters, and what we may -call the Barrie school arose to accomplish feats unique in the literary -history of the nineteenth century.” - -Prodigious! - -“Sydney Smith was witty; so, too, was Sheridan; Dickens was a humourist; -Hood, like Barrie, was at once a wit and a humourist.” - -Who would have thought it? - -“The noblest book which Barrie has given to the world is none other than -_Margaret Ogilvy_, in which—to use the vile and vulgar phrase—he has made -‘copy’ of his mother.… If he had done nothing more than draw that sweet -picture of a good woman’s humble, happy life, he would have deserved well -of his generation. It was a delicate, almost an impossible, task to take -up, and only an artist of the first order could have dared to hope for -success in it.… There is no passage in all that Barrie has written more -essentially Scottish in character than the delightfully humorous account -of his mother on the prospect of his election to a well-known London -club, for which he had been nominated by the good fairy of his literary -life—Frederick Greenwood.” - -Most interesting and most illuminating. Now for Dr. Hammerton on smaller -matters. He assures us that “if one will only read the anecdotes of -village ‘loonies’ with which Scots literature abounds—especially Dean -Ramsay’s _Reminiscences_ and _The Laird o’ Logan_—he will find that the -average Scots idiot was a creature of considerably more humour than the -average Englishman”—which is a palpable hit. Also, “Only once have I -felt inclined to wince in reading anything of Barrie’s, and that was one -chapter entitled, ‘Making the Best of it,’ in _A Window in Thrums_; for -here it seemed to me he was dwelling on an unworthy element of character -which is more typical of the English rural and working classes than of -the Scots. I mean the flattering of wealthy fools with a view to largess.” - -Dr. Hammerton is quite amusing. His notion of the tremendousness of Dr. -Barrie and of the vast superiority of the Scotch does him credit. One -day, perhaps, he will wake up to the fact that Dr. Barrie is not among -the persons who write literature. And even though Dr. Hammerton should -never realise it, the fact remains. - - - - -X - -THE SCOT IN LETTERS - - -Dr. Archer was once at pains to prove that his countrymen had contributed -“at least their share” of good works to the main stream of English -literature. Dr. Archer did this with the help, I believe, of an anthology -by Mr. Henley. Properly wielded, an anthology is an excellent weapon, -inasmuch as you can prove almost anything out of it. In the supposition -that Scotland has done admirably by letters, Dr. Archer has the support -of a large body of Scotchmen. For my own part I am quite ready to admit -that she has done her best. What a poor best that is, everybody is aware, -though so far as I know it is now for the first time set forth in print. -When one comes to look upon English literature in the mass, beginning -with Chaucer and coming down to Tennyson, and dealing only with the -larger forces which have gone to the production of it, one perceives -at once that Scotland’s share in the matter has been so small as to be -scarcely worth counting. Against Chaucer, perhaps, she can place James -I., but the difference is as the difference between chalk and cheese. -Against Shakespeare and the Elizabethan dramatists she has nothing to -show you, good, bad, or indifferent. Against Milton I suppose she will -offer you Drummond of Hawthornden, and for Shelley and Keats, Burns. And -of course she vaunts herself on Scott and Carlyle, and takes a certain -haughty pride in the fact that R. L. Stevenson was Scotch. - -To James I. and Drummond of Hawthornden she is welcome; both of them -are what may be termed tolerable poets, and there the matter ends. Of -Burns and his work I have already given my view, but I would say here -that while at the present moment his popularity is of the widest and -has all the appearances of stability, the circumstance that he wrote in -a vernacular must ultimately relegate him to a position of comparative -obscurity. As Scotland gradually extricates herself from the sloughs of -barbarism in which she wallows so joyfully, she will inevitably shed her -uncouth dialect, and, as soon as that is accomplished, Burns, excepting -as a curiosity, will no longer exist. - -For Scott and Carlyle little need be said. Both, I believe, have had -their day. Scott, erstwhile the Wizard of the North, is rapidly dropping -out of public favour. At the present moment he is what may be styled -“a school-prize classic.” _Ivanhoe_ and _The Lady of the Lake_, once -considered to be marvellous performances, are now doled out to grubby -children for punctual attendance at board schools. In the libraries, -public and private, Scott, of course, figures, but the public library -statistics go to indicate that he is not being read with avidity, and -in private libraries he is felt to be rather a cumberer of space. -Talking to a well-known Scotch critic as to the general decay of interest -in Scott, I found him to be under no illusion on the point, and he -electrified me by saying, “Scott—well, of course! But between ourselves, -man, I cannot read the d⸺ books.” This is pretty well everybody’s case. -To avow that you have not read Scott is still, perhaps, to confess to -a defect in your reading. All the same, if you are a person of average -tendencies, you have not read Scott, neither do you propose to do so. - -Thomas Carlyle—“true Thomas” as Dr. Archer pathetically dubs him—is -another Scotch rocket which has already touched its highest and begun to -descend. Both intellectually and as an artist Carlyle, it is true, was -worth a dozen Scotts, but he was a Scotchman, and come as near it as he -may, a Scotchman cannot do enduring work. So that Carlyle, in the natural -order of things, is, as one might say, dropping down the ladder rung by -rung. He has ceased to be a “force.” People have discovered that his -so-called gospel is a somewhat cheap and snobbish affair. All that is -really left of him is _The French Revolution_, which survives because of -a certain vividness of style. For the rest, Carlyle looks like going to -pieces. A century hence he will be of no more account than Christopher -North is to-day. - -As to Stevenson, while the Scotch are disposed to brag about him when -occasion arises, they have always fought more or less shy of him. He -has never been admitted to that cordial intimacy of relation which a -Scotchman extends alike to Robbie Burns and Dr. R. S. Crockett. As a -matter of fact, he wrote too well and with too sincere a regard for the -finer elements of literature to be properly understood in Scotland. -Further, he took the precaution not to interlard his English with such -phrases as “ben the hoose,” “getting a wee doited,” and so forth. He had -no use for Scotch idioms, and when he dropped into them he was sorry -for it. And he did not stiffen his pages with panegyric of the Scotch -character. In fact, Stevenson tacitly refused to have anything to do -with the advertising of his countrymen. He had the good sense to perceive -that if you are to use the English language as a medium for expression, -you might as well use it skilfully and decently while you are about it. -More than all, he did not boast of having been born in a wynd, or of -having pu’d fine gowans wi’ Jeanie, the auld sweetie wife’s dochter at -Drumkettle. - -And an author—a modern author—who is guilty of all these sins of -commission and omission must not expect perfection from the warm heart -of Scotia. Somehow the Scotch seem to be a nation of persons without -fathers. Nearly every Scot one meets strikes one as being a first -generation man. You know instinctively, even if he does not tell you, -that in his childhood he ran about with untended nose and called his -mother “mither.” Even after he has been to “the college,” and made some -progress in the business or profession to which he may have devoted -himself, he clings to his squalid origins and to the manners of his -forbears for dear life. He is the barbarian who scorns to be tamed. The -tradition of Scottish independence demands that he should keep you well -posted in the facts as to his humble descent and upbringing, and that -he should go on speaking as much of his heaven-forsaken dialect as you -will let him. To such a person a Scot of the Stevenson type does not -appeal. Stevenson, of course, was a Scot, and meet to be bragged about as -a successful Scot. For all that he was not a “brither Scot.” He took to -the English way and the English manner, and the brither Scots as a body -had no alternative but to turn a sour face towards him. From the literary -point of view, though he accomplished great things, R. L. S. is just -another instance of the ultimate ineptitude of the Scotchman. He tried -and tried and tried. No writer of our time has had nobler ideals. Yet he -could not climb after his desire. His books are a procession of worthy -and even splendid failures. The Scotchness of his blood, do what he might -to eradicate it, was too much for him. It kept him from attaining the -highest. - -To treat of the new school of Scottish writers in the present chapter -is, perhaps, to do them too much honour. At no period in the history -of letters has such flagrantly bad writing been offered to the English -public as is being at present offered by our Scottish authors. Their -works have been boomed into a vogue which they do not deserve, and -even Scotchmen admit that their so-called transcripts from life are -as false and as shoddy as such transcripts well could be. Writing on -this subject, Mr. R. B. Cunninghame, himself a Scot, says: “If it -pleases them (the hoot-awa’-man gang) to represent that half of the -population of their native land is imbecile, the fault is theirs. But -for the idiots, the precentors, elders of churches, the ‘select men,’ -and those landward folk who have been dragged of late into publicity, I -compassionate them, knowing their language has been distorted, and they -themselves been rendered such abject snivellers, that not a hen wife, -shepherd, ploughman, or any one who thinks in ‘guid braid Scots’ would -recognise himself dressed in the motley which it has been the pride of -kailyard writers to bestow. Neither would I have Englishmen believe -that the entire Scotch nation is composed of ministers, elders, and -maudlin whiskified physicians, nor even of precentors who are employed -in Scotland to put the congregation out by starting hymns on the wrong -note, or in a key impossible for any but themselves to compass.” Mr. -Cunninghame ought to know. - -The other day I saw in a paper, edited, of course, by a Scotchman, a -reference to “many contemporary Scottish men of letters.” I do not -hesitate to assert that the number of Scottish men of letters now living -can be counted twice on the fingers of one hand. Indeed, with the persons -who might be expected to count in such a category, in my mind’s eye, I -have difficulty in admitting that any one of them is a man of letters -in the strict sense of the phrase. Even Dr. Andrew Lang, who is by far -the most competent Scotchman now writing, would probably not care to lay -claim to the dignity which the term “men of letters” suggests. - - - - -XI - -THE SCOT IN COMMERCE - - -When a Scotchman’s parents decide that he shall be neither a minister -nor a journalist, or when a wee laddie who has been dedicated to one or -other of these offices kicks over the traces, or turns out something of a -failure, there are still splendid openings for him. Far away to the south -stretches that land of milk and honey—“England”—and there is scarcely -a square mile of it whereon you do not find either a shop or a bank or -a factory, or some other hive of industry created, of course, for the -special benefit of Scotchmen. Donald, the hobbledehoy, that would not be -a minister, and was not intended for a professor, and had not shorthand -enough to be a journalist, is packed off South to wear an apron, to -shovel gold behind bars, or “to work his way up” in an engineering -establishment, as the case may be. Furthermore, he is understood to -make an excellent gardener, and not a few English noblemen like to keep -him about their places weeding and pruning, and feeding hogs. In the -main, however, he rather tends to become a clerk in an office. There -is something about being able to keep your coat on while you work and -to be in the confidence of Mr. Foozlem’s books,—of holding, in short, -a “position of trust,” at thirty shillings a week, which is peculiarly -attractive to the Scottish mind; and employers of clerical labour appear -to be firmly convinced that Donald is the man for them. They like him -because he is never late, he is always putting a bit by, and he is as -cheap as horseflesh. His slowness and want of sagacity are no great -matter. The fact that he can only work in grooves also does not matter. -Thrift and punctuality, not to mention cheapness, clothe him with virtues -like a garment, and when higher posts fall vacant, your employer—good, -easy man—has a way of turning a hopeful eye on “that steady young Scot.” -The late remarkable case of Mr. Goudie, who was as Scotch as you make -them, and, perhaps, the greatest and stupidest rogue that has adorned the -annals of modern banking, shows what a Scotch clerk can do when he tries. -The genius of his country asserted itself in the matter of Mr. Goudie, -and we saw what we saw. In banks, at any rate, to be Scotch will not be -to rank with Cæsar’s wife for quite a little time to come. Of course, we -shall be told that the raking up of Goudie is unfair. It always is unfair -to say anything to the detriment of Scotchmen. But the point I wish to -insist upon is that Scotch clerks and Scotch managers and Scotchmen at -large are no more trustworthy and no more to be depended upon and no less -human than Englishmen. The Scotch themselves spare no effort to have it -believed that if you want men of true probity, you must go to Scotland -for them. Employers have taken them at their word and continue to take -them at their word, and, all other things being equal, if there are two -applicants for a position in the average commercial house, and one of -them is English and the other Scotch, the Scotchman gets the preference, -simply because he is Scotch. - -Among Dr. Maclaren’s Drumtochty marvels, there is an old couple who have -a son who is a professor. That son, being, of course, a model of what -a son should be, writes home to his good mother once a week, and the -letter is invariably forthcoming in the kirkyard on Sundays, so that all -who care to read may be informed as to the professor’s condition and -progress. Many touching things are said by the admirers of this honest -couple as to the honour their son has conferred upon “the Glen,” and -the general prodigiousness of his character and position. But it never -occurs to Dr. Maclaren to put into the mouth of any of his people a -single word as to what is thought of the professor by the persons with -whom he is dealing. What do his fellow professors think of him? What do -his students think of him? We all know that professor from Drumtochty, -and we all wish that Drumtochty had kept him. Not only in universities, -but wherever there is a modest living to be made, there you will find him -in full bloom, and the more authority he has, the less possible is he -to get on with. As a colleague, too, he is equally objectionable. When -a certain Scotch lady was informed during the time of the Indian Mutiny -that her son had been captured by the enemy with other prisoners and that -he had been put into a chain-gang, she said with emotion, “God help the -man that’s chained to oor Sandy.” And this is precisely the trouble. To -work amicably with a Scotchman in any commercial capacity is well nigh -an impossibility. He is eaten up with a squint-eyed envy; the fear that -for some inscrutable reason you wish to oust him out of his occupation is -ever with him, and it is part of his creed and code to shoulder out any -fellow worker who happens to be getting a little more money or a little -more credit than himself. In fact, when he comes to take up any sort of -a berth, it is with the consciousness that, as a Scot, it is his duty by -hook or by crook to make himself master of the situation, and, if needs -be, to turn out in the long run his own employer. If you ask a Scotchman -how it comes to pass that so many of his compatriots hold positions of -influence in commercial houses, he will reply, nine times out of ten, -“Well, you see, we just drop into them.” If this were so, nobody would -mind, but as a matter of fact, your Scotchman is far too calculating to -drop into anything. His great game is the game of grab; he will move -heaven and earth to get what he wants, and, as Dr. Robertson Nicoll has -told us, he is not over-scrupulous in his methods of getting it. Every -commercial man could give instances of this over-reachingness which is -such an essential feature of the policy of the Scotch employee. Live and -let live is not at all in his way. Of gratitude for help rendered he -knows nothing. He begins life with sycophancy, and the moment he meets -with any sort of success, he assumes a truculent over-bearingness which -he is pleased to call force of character. When you hear of men being -deprived of their positions by sharp practice and shiftiness, no matter -whether it be in a draper’s shop or in a gilt-edged bank, you will find -that nine times out of ten there is a Scotchman in the case; that it is -the Scotchman who has got up the bother, and that it is the Scotchman -who is to take the post the other man vacates. Dr. Nicoll, who is a -veritable encyclopædia of Scotch character, wrote some time ago a number -of articles which he called _Firing out the Fools_. He asserted very -properly that in most business houses there are always a number of fools -who are a dead weight on progress. The capable men who are not quite -capable enough are the plague of most heads of commercial concerns. You -want a man to do such and such things; you look round your staff; you -consider the merits of this and that person, and you feel that none of -them is exactly the person you want. What are you to do? If you endeavour -to get a man from outside, the chances are that he will be no better than -the men you have. Dr. Nicoll, of course, knows exactly what you should -do. He does not say, “Send for the nearest Scotchman,” because that would -be a little too explicit; but he does say that plod is the great quality -which distinguishes competence from foolishness, and, as everybody knows, -the Scot is nothing if not a plodder. Plod, plod, plod, with plenty of -divagations into plotting and scheming, is the essence of his life. And -when all is said and done, plod may be counted about the meanest and -least desirable of the virtues. It is to the plodders that we owe pretty -well everything we wished we had not got. The very word plod is about the -ugliest and the most nauseating in the English language. Your plodder -may plod and plod and plod, but he never does anything that is more -than middling. In the arts this is a fact beyond traverse. The plodding -artist is still a student at fifty; the plodding writer is a fool to -the end of his life; the plodding actor says, “My Lord, the carriage -waits,” till the workhouse or the grave claims him for its own. This -being so, why should the plodder be the only ware in commercial matters? -Brilliancy and imagination are nowadays just as much wanted in business -as in any other department of life. Tact and a reasonably decent feeling -for your fellow-man are also wanted. Your Scot, on his own showing, does -not possess these qualities. He even goes so far as to disdain them and -to assure you that they are not consistent with “force of character” -and “rugged independence.” The moral is obvious, and I should not be -surprised if English employers of labour have not already begun to take -it to heart. Fire out the fools! is a shibboleth which comes ill from a -Scotchman, because in the large result it may easily mean, Fire out the -Scotchmen. - - - - -XII - -THE SCOT AS A DIPSOMANIAC - - -Under the inspiring tutelage of the national bard, Scotland has become -one of the drunkenest nations in the world. Among the lower classes of -the Scotch cities drunkenness is the preponderating vice. In the rural -districts whiskey is the only beverage that finds any sort of favour. -There is no occasion of life which does not provoke the average Scotchman -to inhibition. Births, deaths, and marriages are all celebrated in -drink. On Burns Day, Scotland rushes to the bottle as one man. The same -is true of New Year’s Day; and year in and year out everybody “tastes” -and “tastes” and “tastes” from morn to dewy eve. The land simply seethes -in whiskey, and though you take hold of the wings of the morning you -cannot get away from the odour of it. In twelve hours spent in Edinburgh -I saw more drinking than could be seen in an English town of the same -population in a couple of days, and I know what drinking means. - -Whiskey to breakfast, whiskey to dinner, whiskey to supper; whiskey when -you meet a friend, whiskey over all business meetings whatsoever; whiskey -before you go into the kirk, whiskey when you come out; whiskey when -you are about to take a journey, whiskey all along the road, whiskey at -the journey’s end; whiskey when you are well, whiskey if you be sick, -whiskey almost as soon as you are born, whiskey the last thing before -you die—that is Scotland. There is a cock-and-bull tale to the effect -that all the finest clarets go to Leith and are drunk in Edinburgh. -Practically, there is no really good claret in all Scotland, unless it -be at the hotels which have been built for the reception of English and -American tourists, and the Scot to the manner born would not give you -a “thank you” for the best claret in the world. “Go bring me a pint of -wine and bring it in a silver tassy” was a mere piece of swagger on the -part of the bard. Wine is not drunk in Scotland; the Scotchman can get no -“forrader” with it, and as for drinking it out of a silver tassy, there -are not more than three silver tassies in the country. Whiskey, and that -of the crudest and most shuddering quality is undoubtedly the Scotchman’s -peculiar vanity. The amount that he can consume without turning a hair is -quite appalling. I have seen a Scotchman drink three bottles of Glenlivet -on a railway journey from King’s Cross to Edinburgh, and when he got out -at Edinburgh he strutted doucely to the refreshment bar and demanded -further whiskey. In London, and particularly in Fleet Street, his feats -in this connection are notorious. In the more central quarters of London -there are a number of hostelries which are almost wholly devoted to -Scottish requirements in the way of ardent liquors. Under some Scotch -name, such as the Scotch Stores, the Clachan, the Highland Laddie, and -so forth, these places flourish and the proprietors of them wax fat. -Here, any morning in the week, you will find brither Scots assembled, -elbow on counter, indulging in the whiskey which delights their souls. -All day there is plenty of company, plenty of Doric, plenty of discussion -on politics and the questions of the hour, but more than all, a steady -flow of whiskey. And by eleven P.M. or thereabouts the company begins -to exhibit a tendency to song. And at closing time it staggers forth -singing _Scots Wha Hae_ and _My Ain Kind Dearie O_ in various pathetic -keys. _Scots Wha Hae_ is a poor song to sing in the circumstances, and -as for _My Ain Kind Dearie O_, she probably fumes at home and is not in -the least kind in her welcoming of her whiskeyful lord. It is certain -that the number of persons in Fleet Street employed upon the press either -in literary capacities or as advertisement canvassers or printers is -very considerable, and among the lower grades of them, the drinking of -whiskey appears to be considered a part of their duty to themselves -and to mankind at large. At the same time it is only fair to say that -a drunken Scotchman is not by any means a common spectacle, the reason -being that the Scot is so inured to the consumption of whiskey from his -youth up, that he can take almost any quantity without becoming drunk -about the legs. Drink, however, he must and will have, and both at home -and abroad he makes a point of getting as much of it as his means will -allow. In Scotland it is quite general for men and women alike to drink -whiskey raw and to take the water afterwards. This is done at every meal, -and if you call upon a Scotch household at any hour of the day you will -be at once offered a four-or five-finger dose of the national drink. To -refuse it is to be set down for an evilly-disposed person. Burns the -Almighty approved of whiskey drinking; with him it was the symbol of -good-fellowship, and he is quoted to you continually as the justification -of all excesses. - - We are na drunk, we’re no’ that drunk - But just a drappie in our ee, - -is the great retort used by Scotchmen if one suggests that they have had -enough or too much. - -It is to the Scot’s amazing capacity for the consumption of spirit that -one may fairly attribute some of his minor defects. Dourness, of which -every Scotchman possesses a fair share, and of which he is invariably -more or less proud, has always struck me as being in a great measure the -outcome of too much whiskey overnight. It is not till he is properly -exhilarated with drink that a Scot can unbend himself in the smallest -degree. Once primed, he does his best to prove himself an excellent and -generous fellow by becoming as uproarious as the host of the tavern in -which he is drinking will allow him to be. But next morning, when the -whiskey is out of him, he is a very sad and sober man indeed. Then it -is that he passes for “dour.” You talk with him and get for answers -grunts: he cannot smile; he plods heavily away at whatever labour stands -in front of him: he is glum, rude of tongue and dull of mind, and his -brethren set it down for you to his “Scots dourness.” - -His gift of steady drinking also accounts, in my opinion, for his general -mediocrity. Whiskey may be a fine and healthy drink for persons who do -not take enough of it; but to be braced up with it by day and to swim in -it by night is calculated to have a detrimental effect even on the bright -intellects that come out of Scotland. I have not the smallest desire to -suggest that there are not plenty of hard drinkers whose blood is more -or less purely English, yet somehow there is no kind of man in the world -who makes the drinking of furious spirit a _cultus_ and a boast in the -way that the Scotchman does. To be fou’ or as he would put it, to have a -drappie in his eye, is the Scotchman’s notion of bigness and freedom and -manly independence. He is a ranter and a roarer in his cups, and on the -whole much more distressing to meet drunk than sober, which is saying a -great deal. - - - - -XIII - -THE SCOT AS CRIMINAL - - -Burns, like every other Scotchman that has trailed a pen, did not fail -to help along the Scottish advertisement with a suitable contribution. -He wrote _The Cottar’s Saturday Night_, and thereby did a great thing -for Scotland, setting up a picture of Scottish home life and piety which -the generations seem to regard as authentic. We have all been taught to -admire the moral excellences of that cottar, not to mention the moral -excellences of his wife and children: - - With joy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet, - And each for others’ welfare kindly spiers; - The social hours swift winged, unnotic’d fleet, - Each tells the unco’s that he see or hears. - The parents partial eye their hopeful years, - Anticipation forward prints the view; - The mother, wi’ her needle and her shears, - Gars auld claes look amaist as weel’s the new, - The father mixes a’ wi’ admonition due. - - Their masters’ and their mistresses’ command - The younkers a’ are warned to obey. - And mind their labours wi’ an eydent hand, - And ne’er tho’ out of sight to jauk or play— - And O! be sure to fear the Lord alway. - And mind your duty, duly morn and night, - Lest in temptation’s path ye gang astray, - Implore his counsel and assisting might, - They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright. - -All of which is very fine, and, with much more to the like effect, has -helped the Scotch peasant into an odour of sanctity which on the whole -does not appear to be quite his element. Indeed, so far from conducting -his life in the manner suggested by _The Cottar’s Saturday Night_, the -average Scot of the lower orders appears to base himself on the more -scandalous portion of Burns’s writing. - -According to the latest returns, the population of Scotland is 4,472,000. -In the year 1900, which is the latest year for which statistics are -available, a matter of 180,000 persons were charged with criminal -offences in Scotland. So that out of every twenty-five Scotchmen in -Scotland one is either a convicted criminal or a person who has been -charged with a criminal offence. From the official Buff-book dealing with -the subject I take the following: - -“The criminal returns for 1900 show an increase over those for the -previous year under all the important classes into which crime and -offences are grouped, the number of persons charged has risen to close -upon 180,000, and if we compare this with the last published English -tables for the year 1899, we shall find, for equal numbers of population, -Scotland has over three charges for every two in England. - -“Furthermore, imprisonments in Scotland continue to be proportionately -much higher than in England, and for every three committals in England -there are seven in Scotland. The increase in criminal offences during -1900 is distributed under the following heads”: - - Culpable homicide 28 - Assaults of husbands on wives 690 - Cruel and unnatural treatment of children 242 - Housebreaking of all kinds 190 - Theft 1,916 - Malicious mischief 986 - Betting games and lotteries 96 - Breach of the peace, etc. 519 - Cruelty to animals 145 - Offences in relation to dogs 148 - Drunkenness 5,785 - Offences against Elementary Education Acts 397 - Army deserters 1,207 - Offences against Police Acts, by-laws and regulations 9,570 - Prostitution 613 - Bicycling, etc, offences 367 - Obstructions and nuisances, and other Road Act offences 2,664 - Public Health Act offences 162 - Lodging without consent of owner under Vagrancy Acts 425 - ------ - 26,150 - -It will thus be seen that theft and drunkenness bear the gree among -Scotch crimes, while the large number of offences against police acts, -by-laws, and regulations tends to show that the Scot is not a good -citizen. The mere statistics as to crime, however, do not give one -anything like an adequate idea of the general depravity of the Scotch -character. To understand it properly we must add to the criminal returns -the illegitimacy returns. - -From Dr. Albert Leffingwell’s[16] book on illegitimacy I take the -following passage: - -“In 1881 the census of Scotland showed that there were then living in -that portion of the kingdom 492,454 unmarried women (that is to say, -spinsters and widows) between the ages of fifteen and forty-five. During -the ten years 1878-87 there were born in Scotland 105,091 illegitimate -children, or an annual average of twenty-one to each thousand unmarried -females at this specified age. In England and Wales the corresponding -number of the unmarried females was 3,046,431, and the number of -illegitimate births during the same period was 426,184, or fourteen -to each thousand of the possible mothers. In Ireland, the number of -unmarried women at this age was a third larger than in Scotland, or -731,767. Yet to each thousand of these were born every year less than -five illegitimate children during a ten-year period, 1878-87. Here again -we are perplexed with the problem why Scotia and Hibernia should present -such widely different contrasts. Every year in Scotland there are _five -times the proportion_ of bastards that see the light in Ireland!” - -Dr. Leffingwell’s perplexity is the perplexity of the scientific person. -That Burns should have anything to do with illegitimacy of Scotia would -probably seem ridiculous to the scientific mind, but I believe that -Burns, and the spirit of loose living for which he stands, have been to -no little extent responsible for bringing Scotland to the discreditable -and degrading pass indicated by Dr. Leffingwell’s figures. - -In Ireland the rate of illegitimacy is 4.4, in Scotland, 21.5 to each -thousand unmarried women. Now, the poet who stands in the same relation -to the Irish people as Burns does to the Scotch is Thomas Moore. He has -given Ireland quite as considerable a body of songs as Burns has given -to Scotland. He is just as essentially Irish as Burns is Scotch; but -compare the tone of the two men. One of them gives you _The lass who made -the bed to me_, the other, _Rich and rare were the gems she wore_. In -reading Burns you find that quite two thirds of what he has written is -marred by unpleasant and libidinous suggestion, but there is not a line -of Moore which would not pass muster in a ladies’ school. To the rantin’ -roarin’ Billies of Scotland the difference may form material for a sneer, -but in the long run, clearly, the advantage is with the women of Ireland. -If Scotland wishes to get rid of her drunkenness and to lessen the crime -which arises out of it, and if she wishes to bring herself into line with -the ordinary standards of decency, she will, I am afraid, have to put a -little less trust in that mighty performer before the Flesh—Robert Burns. - - - - -XIV - -THE SCOT BY ADOPTION - - -I have been told that there are two kinds of Scotchmen, and that it -would be a mistake to confound them, or to suggest that they have any -characteristics in common. One kind, and the best kind, I am assured, is -the Highlander. The other—and the more disreputable kind—is the Scotchman -of the Lowlands. I have met both sorts, and I have not been able to -discover that there is much to choose between them. For all practical -purposes the blood is identical. It may at one time have been of two -distinct strains, but these appear to have become in a great measure -fused, and the blend is not beautiful. I think it was Dr. Cunninghame -Graham who said of a certain Scotch peddler that he looked like a cross -between a low-class Indian and an ourang-outang that had somehow got -itself baptised. This, no doubt, is a little severe. But a Scotchman -does certainly make one feel that underneath his unsatisfactory and -obviously imperfect civilisation the hairy simian sits and grins. Rouse -him, thwart him, disappoint him, rally him, and suddenly your cross-eyed, -sandy-haired, bandy-legged, but withal sleek, smug, moralising man -suddenly “bleezes,” and you perceive in him the ten thousand devils of -an ancient and arboreal barbarity. Whether he be Highlander or Lowlander -or mongrel, as he mostly is, it is just the same. He is Scotch and -compounded for the most part of savage. Like the converted Kroo-boy, he -may at any time revert into his immemorial primalism and you can never -be sure of him. Whether he hail from the Isles or from the Lothians, the -Scot is just the Scot, and there is nothing more to be said for him. - -There is, however, a kind of Scot who, while not of Scotch blood, has -adopted the manners and habits of Caledonia, and is rather flattered if -you take him for a true-born Scotchman. This type of creature usually -owes his retrogression to the fact that he has married a Scotch wife. -Of Scotchwomen as a body, I do not wish to say anything that will be -considered ungallant. If one passes over their abnormal capacity for -thrift, I suppose they are pretty much the same as other women. So far as -I am aware I have not met more than a dozen Scotchwomen in my life. Two -of them I have known intimately, and I have always thanked my stars that -I was not married to either of them. But to return to our Scotchman by -adoption. Usually, as I say, he is married to a Scotchwoman. Before you -arrive at a knowledge of this circumstance, you are inclined to wonder -what is the matter with him. His style and proclivities have induced you -to set him down for a Scotchman, yet you find that his Doric is bad, -that he eats his porridge with sugar and takes his whiskey with soda, -and that he was born in Gloucestershire. Also, he tells you frankly -that his parents were not Scotch, and he adds, with a look of supreme -satisfaction, “but my wife is.” And straightway he plunges into tender -reminiscences of the days of his courtship, touches modestly upon the -wealth and importance of his wife’s relations, hints at the fearful -expense to which he was put by his many journeys North when he went -a-wooing, and gurgles with a sickly smile that it was worth the trouble, -and that he does not know “what he would do without her.” All of which is -mightily interesting. If you pursue your investigations further, you will -find that the man is perhaps a little more to pity than to blame. He has -been compelled to become as Scotch as he knows how, willy-nilly. At the -head of his table sits the daughter of Scotia—ruddy, chapped, and sharp -of tongue; she looks down on things English, her husband included; her -children are taught to remember that their grandfather is a provost and -magnificent in the jute line; she keeps her house in the Scotch manner, -her servants are Scotch, her household linens are Scotch, her beef is -Scotch, and her whiskey is Scotch; her little boys wear tartan; tripe is -the great dish for supper, and her husband must eat oatmeal to the verge -of scrofula. Abroad, too, this man must be as Scotch as the best of them. -In his place of business, Scotchmen _protégés_ of his wife’s relations -are the only ware: he loathes them, and they laugh at him behind his -back, but he has to put up with them. On Saturdays they instruct him in -the mysteries of “gowf”; on Mondays they tell one another what a “damned -foozler” he is. His holidays are always spent in the Western Highlands; -he is everlastingly seeing his wife off to Aberdeen; he banks at the -Bank of Scotland; he smokes the tobacco which has been so ably pushed -into fame by Dr. J. M. Barrie; he believes that the Glasgow bailies know -what they are about; his money, which has been scraped together on the -Scotch principle, is doucely put away in Scotch ventures; and altogether -Scotland does very well out of him. The fact that he is a mean little -man does not worry him. The practice and view of life which the lady of -his affections has forced upon him is bringing him a due share of this -world’s gear, and in that fact he takes consolation for his attenuated -honesty, his lost manhood, and his lost nationality. This is one side of -the picture and the brightest. - -On the other side it were well for us not to look too closely. The -Englishman who has been appropriated by a Scotch wife does not always -succeed in profiting by the worldly wisdom with which his spouse would -imbue him. Then there is trouble. For a Scotchwoman who cannot report -to her kindred in Scotland that her husband is “getting on” feels -that she has been robbed of the prime joy of existence. Her contempt -for the man who cannot win and grip siller eats into her soul, until -she has no other sentiment left. Bit by bit she develops into a scold -and a curtain-lecturer; the man who found her so fair by the Birks of -Aberfeldey becomes a furtive wanderer from her side, and it all ends in -too much whiskey, recrimination, and execration. I know an Englishman -of parts who has never earned enough money to be under the necessity of -paying income tax. He is a man of small stature and limp, and he has a -great fear in his eyes. He is one of those men who might have done things -and have omitted to do them. The gossip about him is that he is badly -married. Once I saw his wife. She was a big, raw-boned Scotchwoman, with -a heavy accent on her. It was New Year’s Eve, and she had evidently been -“tasting.” At sight of me, out of the bigness of her Scotch hospitality, -she proposed a “nep,” and half filled three glasses from a stone bottle. -Then, with hand on hip, glass uplifted, and a blaze on her face, she -cried: “Here’s tae us and to hell with the English.” We drank the toast -in something of a silence. Later, when I was about to leave, my limp -friend would have accompanied me to the door. But the mistress of his -heart would have none of it. “Ye’ll awa’,” she said, then, “to yer bed; -yer friend is no’ that fou but he can find his ain way oot.” So that we -shook hands and parted on the stair. The man had had twenty years of it. -I understand him. - -The idiot who takes to wearing kilts and speaking with an accent for -the mere sake of it is scarcely worth notice. But there are such people -even outside Colney Hatch. What they see in the Scotch to admire to the -point of spuriousness I cannot for the life of me make out. The garb -of old Gaul is, no doubt, very fetching from the point of view of the -weak-minded, but of its effeminacy there can be no doubt. Really, it is -a costume for small and pretty boys who are too young to be breeched. -In view of its associations and of its innate childishness,—not to say -immodesty,—it is a great pity that any Englishman should go out of his -way to wear it. - - - - -XV - -THE SCOT AND ENGLAND - - -Although the political relations between Scotland and England would -seem to have been of the smoothest since the Act of Union, and in spite -of the fact that on the whole the merging of the two peoples under one -Government has tended hugely to the benefit of Scotland, it is the Scotch -fashion to lament the Union with groans and to insist that 1707 was a -black year for Scotchmen. I believe that were it not for the circumstance -that Scotland cannot produce capable men even in the way of agitators -we should soon have at St. Stephen’s a Scotch party which would be just -as troublesome and just as noisy and truculent as is the Irish party. I -believe, too, that within twelve months’ time as big a demand for Home -Rule and as much disquiet and rebellion could be got up in Scotland as -have ever existed in Ireland. Fortunately, however, the Scotch possess -neither the requisite agitators nor the requisite pluck to indulge in -serious demonstrations against the Imperial Government. So that they have -to content themselves with futile grumbling and petty acts of disloyalty. -The Scot has always been more or less of a fine hand at a treason. Out -of Scotland has come the only treasonable organisation which England can -boast of at the present day. I refer, of course, to that absurd group of -persons who once a year decorate the statue of Charles I. at Whitehall -with cheap wreaths, and circulate leaflets which profess to prove that -the reigning monarch in these realms is a usurper, and that our only -true monarch is a woman by the name of Mary, who lives somewhere on -the Continent. In any country but England these gentry would be laid -by the heels; though the mere fact that they are Scotch renders them -quite ineffective. We can afford to smile at them. All the same, we -must remember that if they could make trouble they would. Even in the -matter of the King’s Coronation the Scotch have managed to give us the -usual display of stupid insolence. Writing to his paper in May last, the -Scottish correspondent of the _Times_ said: - -“The approaching coronation of the King and Queen seems to have awakened -rather less enthusiasm in certain quarters than either the Jubilee or -the Diamond Jubilee of her late Majesty. It would be absurd to make much -of the difference, but it does exist. In a word, the celebration of the -event will be distinctly more official than the rejoicings over the two -notable epochs of Queen Victoria’s later life. Two circumstances have -helped to bring this about—the Royal proclamation of two successive -holidays, and what is known in Scotland as the ‘numeral.’ They are -both absolutely sentimental considerations, but they have had a slight -influence. Trades councils, becoming ‘permeated’ with Socialism, -protest against what they are pleased to call the ‘mummery’ in London, -and the association of themselves therewith through local rejoicings, -and the idea of losing two days’ pay in one week is just sufficient to -arouse their resentment, which some corporations have tried to appease -by ignoring the proclamation, or applying it, on their own initiative, -to one of the days only. The ‘numeral’ connotes the quasi-patriotic -objection to the assumption of the title of King Edward VII. by his -Majesty. Some Scotsmen persist in refusing to see that, in calling -himself the Seventh Edward, the King neither intended to, nor did, -insinuate that he was the seventh of that name who had reigned over the -United Kingdom, and they declaim in grotesque fashion against the payment -of any kind of homage to the Crown. Their insignificance is shown by the -snub administered to them recently by the Convention of Burghs, which -is nothing if it is not truly and characteristically Scottish: their -influence is no less unmistakable in the resolution of several public -bodies to omit the ‘numeral’ from the inscription on their coronation -medals, and in the untimely fits of economy that have overcome some local -authorities not as a rule averse to feasting.” - -It is the old tale over again. The Scotch braggart cry—“unconquered -and unconquerable”—is made to rend the welkin whenever the opportunity -serves. Edward the Seventh, of course, cannot be Edward the Seventh of -Scotland. It would never do. Therefore the “numeral” must not appear -on Scotch medals, and the rejoicings are to be as far as possible of -an official character. The ululation over the loss of two days’ pay -also is eminently Scotch. There is a time for work and a time for play, -says the wise man; but the whey-faced Scot plays always with a certain -disconsolateness because he feels that he is losing money all the -time. The fact is, that Scottish life and Scottish manners are almost -entirely dominated by the more evil traits of the Scotch character. -Independence and thrift must be read into everything the Scotchman does. -Poverty-stricken, starveling pride has been the ruin of the Scottish -people. It has made many of them sour, disagreeable, greedy, and -disloyal; it has made some of them hypocrites and crafty rogues; it has -narrowed their minds and stunted their national development; it has made -them a by-word and a mock in all the countries of the world, and it has -brought them to opprobrium even among Turks and Chinamen. - -The career of the Scotchman in England has been picturesquely summarised -by Dr. Cunninghame Graham: - -“In the blithe times of clans and moss-troopers [he says], when Jardines -rode and Johnstones raised, when Grahams stole, McGregors plundered, and -Campbells prayed themselves into fat sinecures, we were your enemies. -In stricken fields you southern folks used to discomfit us by reason of -your archers and your riders sheathed in steel. We on the borders had -the vantage of you, as you had cattle for us to steal, houses to burn, -and money and valuables for us to carry off. We having none, you were -not in a state to push retaliation in an effective way. Later, we sent -an impecunious king to govern you, and with him went a train of ragged -courtiers, all with authentic pedigrees but light of purse. From this -time date the Sawnies and the Sandies, the calumnies about our cuticle, -and those which stated that we were so tender-hearted that we scrupled -to deprive of life the smallest insect which we had about our clothes. -You found our cheekbones out, saw our red hair, and noted that we blew -our noses without a pocket-handkerchief, to save undue expense.… So far -so good. But still you pushed discovery to whiskey, haggis, sneeshin, -predestination, and all the other mysteries both of our cookery and our -faith. The bagpipes burst upon you (with a skirl), and even Shakespeare -set down things about them which I refrain from quoting, only because I -do not wish to frighten gentlewomen.… King George came in, in pudding -time, and all was changed, and a new race of Scotsmen dawned on the -English view. The ’15 and the ’45 sent out the Highlanders, rough-footed -and with deerskin thongs tied round their heads, … they marched and -conquered and made England reel, retreated, lost Culloden, and the mist -received them back. But their brief passage altered your views again, and -you perceived that Scotland was not all bailie, prayer-monger, merchant, -and sanctimonious cheat.… Then Scott arose and threw a glamour over -Scotland which was nearly all his own. True, we were poor, but then our -poverty was so romantic, and we appeared fighting for home and haggis, -for foolish native kings, for hills, for heather, freedom, and for all -those things which Englishmen enjoy to read about, but which in actual -life they take good care only themselves shall share. The pale-faced -master and the Highland chief, the ruined gentleman, the swashbuckler, -soldier, faithful servant, and the rest, he marked and made his own, but -then he looked about to find his counterfoil, the low comedians without -whose presence every tragedy must halt. - -“Then came the Kailyarders, and said that Scott was Tory, Jacobite, -unpatriotic, unpresbyterian, and they alone could draw the Scottish type. -England believed them, and their large sale and cheap editions clinched -it, and to-day a Scotchman stands confessed a sentimental fool, a canting -cheat, a grave, sententious man, dressed in a ‘stan o’ black,’ oppressed -with the tremendous difficulties of the jargon he is bound to speak, and, -above all, weighed down with the responsibilities of being Scotch.” - -As I have already mentioned, Dr. Cunninghame Graham is a Scot. - -The whole truth about the Scotch relation with England is that the -Scot is more than sensible of the advantage it brings him, but being -by disposition wise as a serpent, he is afraid that if he did not -pretend to deplore it, it might not last in its present comfortable -unrestrictedness. Of course, this fear is entirely baseless. The -Englishman is too easy hearted to make laws against needy aliens whether -from north of the Tweed or elsewhere. All the same, the Scot continues -to howl on principle. He will not have our King, he will not have the -“numeral,” to call him English or even include him under the term British -is an indignity and an outrage. The Act of Union was a big mistake: the -poor Scot has been trodden down forbye ever since, and altogether he is -sorry that he is alive. And, for my own part, I am quite inclined to -think that there is much to be said for the latter sentiment. - - - - -XVI - -THE WAY OUT - - -I do not think it is an exaggeration to describe England as a Scot-ridden -country. To whatever department of activity one looks one finds therein, -working his way up for all he is worth and by not over-scrupulous -methods, the so-called canny Scot. In some professions, notably that -of journalism, as I have shown, he has made himself more or less -predominant. In banks, offices, and manufactories he is to be found -as frequently as not, ruling the roost in the capacity of manager or -overseer; and in the general atmosphere of Anglo-Saxon business life -there is a persistent feel of him. That he should come from his own -heathery wastes and starved townlets to a richer land is quite natural. -That he should desire to do his best for himself and for people of -his own blood is also natural. But that he should put on airs and -forget that, after all, he is an alien and a person who by good right -is with us only on sufferance, is the mistake he makes. The power -that he has got for himself has been won largely by combination and -advertisement. The Scotch superstition is the oyster out of which he -lives. That superstition was never more general than it is to-day, and -the advertisement of Scottish virtues and Scottish capacities was never -in merrier progress. The time has come, I think, for Englishmen to make -a stand in the matter. At any rate, the time has come for the Scotchman -to be taught his place. One would hesitate to suggest that he should be -got rid of entirely, for he has his uses and his good qualities. As a -hewer of wood and a drawer of water, as a person fitted by temperament -for the exercise of mechanical functions, he is all very well; but in -matters where intellect and sparkle are required he should be left -severely alone. To rid the press of his influence would be an excellent -thing for the press. It cannot be shown that he is of the least use in -journalism, or that he does things any better, whether as reporter, -sub-editor, or editor, than the average Englishman. And it can be shown -that he has used his influence on the press for purposes which, however -legitimate they may appear to him, are not in the public interest. It -is not in the public interest that every newspaper one picks up should -contain certificates of character for the Scotch; it is not in the -public interest that he should be continually written down for a person -of especial intellect, probity, shrewdness, humour, and the rest. His -intellect, in point of fact, is middling; his probity merely average; -his shrewdness questionable, and his humour neither here nor there. -As a subordinate he is always a very doubtful bargain. As a person in -authority he is just a bully—“a bad master,” as Dr. Nicoll puts it. -Employers of labour would find it distinctly to their interest to look -into the question and to find out how far they are being imposed upon by -mere sententiousness and wise looks with nothing behind them that is of -consequence. It is not too much to say that if you have a Scotchman in -your place of business, you are, as a rule, all the weaker for it. If -you go thoroughly into him you will find that his only quality is his -capacity for plod; as against this he has many ugly traits—jealousy, -over-reachingness, and greediness among them. Rarely, if ever, does he -understand his business, and of initiative and originality he is, as a -rule, devoid. Changes and advances are not at all in his line. If you ask -him for something new, something out of the ordinary, he will bring it to -you and impress you (by talk) with the notion that you are getting what -you want; but if you examine it, you will find that it is not new at all, -and that really it is not what you want. - -The Scot, in fact, rarely rises above mediocrity; he seldom has an -inspiration or a happy thought; he cannot rise to occasions, and while -he is most punctual in his attention to duty and most assiduous and -steadfast as a labourer, his work is never perfectly done, and too -frequently it is scamped and carried out without regard to finish or -excellence. Of pride or delight in labour the Scotchman knows nothing. -He works in order that he may get money and secure his own personal -advancement. His loyalty is a question of pounds, shillings, and pence; -he will be loyal to you just as long as you are paying him more than he -can get elsewhere, and the moment somebody comes along with a better -offer, there is an end of you so far as he is concerned. - -There are not wanting signs that, in spite of the manner in which it has -been hidden and bolstered up, the Scotchman’s real character is beginning -to be properly understood. Nobody can say, with any show of truth, that -the Scot is either loved or admired by the peoples with whom he comes -in contact outside his own country. Indeed, I believe that throughout -England there is a very strong anti-Scotch feeling. I have found it -difficult to meet an Englishman who, if you questioned him straightly, -would not admit that he has a rooted dislike for Scotchmen. That dislike -the Scotchman has himself aroused. His bumptiousness and uncouthness, his -lack of manners, his frequent lack of principle, and his want of decent -feeling, have brought and will continue to bring their own reward. In -this book I feel that I have merely touched the fringe of the subject. -Facts that go to prove the main contentions I have laid down abound. I -have not been able to use a tithe of them. Every person of understanding -can give you instance after instance of the Scotchman’s underbredness, -ineptitude, and disposition to meanness. Furthermore, Scotchmen -themselves are full of such instances. Indeed, for the material used in -most of the chapters of this work I am indebted to Scotchmen. From first -to last I have done my best to convict them out of their own mouths, and -if I have failed, the fault is not the fault of the Scotch. - -For the general guidance of young Scotchmen who wish to succeed in this -country and who do not desire to add further opprobrium to the Scotch -character, I shall offer a few broad hints, which are worth taking to -heart: - - I. REMEMBER THAT OUTSIDE SCOTLAND YOU ARE A GOOD DEAL OF A - FOREIGNER. - - II. BE ASSURED THAT THE KING’S ENGLISH IS THE LANGUAGE WHICH - DECENT MEN EXPECT YOU TO SPEAK IN ENGLAND. - - III. DOURNESS IS REALLY NOT A VIRTUE. - - IV. THERE IS NOTHING SPECIALLY CREDITABLE IN HAVING BEEN BORN - ON A MUCK HEAP. DO NOT BOAST ABOUT IT. - - V. THERE ARE GREATER VIRTUES THAN THRIFT. IT IS BETTER TO DIE - PENNILESS THAN TO HAVE BEEN TOO MUCH OF A SAVER. - - VI. NEVER UNDERTAKE WHAT YOU CANNOT DO. A SHUT MOUTH AND A - SENTENTIOUS AIR WILL NOT SERVE YOU FOR EVER. - - VII. DO NOT SET UP TO BE A JUDGE OF ANY OF THE FINE ARTS. YOU - ARE NOT INTENDED FOR IT. - - VIII. TRY TO FORGET THAT THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN WAS WON BY - THE SCOTCH IN 1314. THE DATES OF FLODDEN AND CULLODEN ARE - MUCH BETTER WORTH REMEMBERING, THOUGH MOST ENGLISHMEN HAVE - FORGOTTEN BOTH OF THEM. - - IX. DO YOUR BEST TO LIVE DOWN DR. NICOLL’S SUGGESTION THAT - YOU ARE NOT OVER-SCRUPULOUS IN YOUR METHODS OF DEALING WITH - COMPETITORS. - - X. IF, WITHOUT SERIOUS INCONVENIENCE TO YOURSELF, YOU CAN - MANAGE TO REMAIN AT HOME, PLEASE DO. - - - - -ADVERTISEMENT - - -Never apologise before the offence is a good rule, and in certain -circumstances a still better rule is, do not apologise at all. I have -not the smallest intention of regretting anything that has been written -in the foregoing chapters. But I am informed by a Scotchman who has been -kind enough to read them in proof that there is some likelihood of their -being misunderstood. This, of course, would be a thousand pities. So that -I shall venture on what may be termed, for the want of a better phrase, -an explanation. When Dr. Johnson was asked to explain his reasons for -disliking the Scotch, his reply was of the vaguest. Lamb also did not -quite know why he disliked them; and, on the whole, it is difficult to -say flatly why one cannot get on with the simple child of Caledonia. -As a matter of fact, my own antipathy always amuses me. Whether it will -amuse the Scotch is another matter. But for the sake of their own peace -of mind I should like to ask them not to jump to foolish conclusions -about various hard things I have said. Since the time of Burns, Scotchmen -appear to have yearned for some one who should show them their faults: - - Oh wad some power the giftie gie us - To see oorsels as ithers see us! - -is as frequent on their lips as “The best laid schemes o’ mice and men,” -“A man’s a man for a’ that,” and the rest of them. And, in this instance, -I have simply done my best to play the rôle of “some power.” To put an -ugly man in front of a mirror is not, perhaps, to do him the most tender -of services, especially if you comment upon his style of beauty the -while. For all that, I am hoping that in some small measure I may be -doing great and useful things for the Scotch as a nation. If they would -only be at a little pains to discover their faults and at a little more -pains to correct them, one could encourage hopes for Scotland. “Much may -be done with the Scotchman,” said Dr. Johnson, “if you catch him young,” -or words to that effect. I am afraid that to all Scotchmen who have -passed the age of forty the present volume will be a wasted lesson. But -there appear to be a very large number of Scots who have not yet attained -the prime of life, and it is among these that I expect my counsel to have -effect. They really cannot do themselves the smallest hurt by taking to -heart the warnings and advice which, as a result of great labour, are -here put before them. Oh, my dear young Scottish friends, let me implore -you to be wise in time. If I have beaten you with clubs, be assured that -it is as much for your good as for my emolument. If you have bought -this book, you never spent a few sixpences to better advantage in your -life. If you have borrowed it, as I expect most of you have, you are -forgiven, providing you will really try to mend. For all things to which -I have set my hand that may cause you pain I am truly sorry. Yet, as the -chastisers of one’s youth were wont to say, the punishment hurts me far -more than it hurts you. I know you will believe me and do your best to -love me. Whether you do or not, I shall ever continue to take a kindly -interest in you and to pray for your general reform. - -THE END - - - - -FOOTNOTES - - -[1] In a booklet entitled _The Kilt and How to Wear It_, the Hon. Stuart -Erskine assures us that “in Scotland every man is a gentleman.” On the -other hand, in England quite a number of Scotchmen seem to be doctors. I -trust that I shall not be considered wanting in respect if I prefix the -august, abdominal “Dr.” to the names of all Scotch gentlemen whom I have -occasion to mention. - -[2] _Vide_ that piece of arrant Jeromeism, _My Lady Nicotine_. - -[3] Andrew Lang, “Magic Mirrors and Crystal-gazing,” _Monthly Review_, -February, 1902. - -[4] The Free University Education Scheme of Dr. Andrew Carnegie (many -times millionaire, beloved of the American steel worker, and author of a -book called _Triumphant Democracy_, if you please) will no doubt change -all this. - -[5] George Lockhart, _Memoirs Concerning the Affairs of Scotland from -Queen Anne’s Accession to May, 1707_. - -[6] John Hill Burton, D.C.L., LL.D., _The Scot Abroad_. - -[7] “English and Scotch,” _The British Weekly_, January 16, 1902. - -[8] “English and Scotch,” _The British Weekly_, January 16, 1902. - -[9] “The Battle of Bannockburn was won by the Scotch in 1314. Here’s tae -us, wha’s like us?”—_Scotch Toast._ - -[10] George Vivian Poore, _A Treatise on Medical Jurisprudence_, 1901. - -[11] There are some people who think they sufficiently acquit themselves, -and entertain their company, with relating facts of no consequence, but -at all out of the road of such common incidents as happen every day; -and this I have observed more frequently among the Scots than any other -nation, who are very careful not to omit the minutest circumstances of -time or place; which kind of discourse, if it were not a little relieved -by the uncouth terms and phrases, as well as accent and gesture peculiar -to that country, would be hardly tolerable.—Jonathan Swift, _Hints -towards an Essay on Conversation_. - -[12] Charles Lamb, _Essays of Elia_. - -[13] Mr. Spielman has assured us that seventy-five per cent. of the jokes -accepted from outsiders by _Punch_ come from Scotland; this, however, -only tends to show that Lamb and Smith knew what they were talking about, -for it is everywhere admitted that if you want humour, you must make a -point of avoiding _Punch_. - -[14] “It may be surely counted not without significance among ethnical -phenomena that, though France has all along shown in her language the -predominance of the Latin race, three infusions of northern blood had -been successively poured into the country: first, the Franks; then the -Normans; and, lastly, the Scots. It seems not unreasonable that these -helped to communicate to the vivacity and impetuosity of the original -race those qualifications of enterprise and endurance which were needed -to make up the illustrious history of France.”—_The Scot Abroad._ - -[15] In the Embankment Gardens, London, there is a statue of Burns, on -the pedestal of which appears the appended inscription: - -“The Poetic Genius of my country found me at the plough and threw her -inspiring mantle over me. She bade me sing the loves, the joys, the rural -scenes, and rural pleasures of my native soil in my native tongue. I -tuned my wild, artless notes as she inspired.” - -Now any poet who can babble about his wild, artless notes is beyond -praying for. I think this particular monument ought to be taken down. - -[16] Albert Leffingwell, M.D., _Illegitimacy: Two Studies in Demography_. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Unspeakable Scot, by -Thomas William Hodgson Crosland - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE UNSPEAKABLE SCOT *** - -***** This file should be named 56204-0.txt or 56204-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/2/0/56204/ - -Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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