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Scenes from an Artist's Life

Chapter 2

 " Then out into the world my course I did determine,
    Though to be rich was ne'er my wish, yet to be great was 
charming." BURNS

MEMORABLE YEARS-THE WET HAIRST-A WORK OF NECESSITY-THE DEAR MEAL YEAR-A YELLOW WIG-THE STORY OF MY BLUE SUIT- I START IN LIFE-FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF MY NEW HOME-THE SHOEMAKERS GARRET AND THE SMIDDY.

THE Year of the Big Snaw, a term which when I was young

stood for the year 1795, had its histories of smoorings of sheep

and even of human beings, of the shutting off connection with

places, and other casualties. The Year of the Dearth, when the

meal was five shillings a peck, was as well known as if 1800 had

been named. The various phases of hunger and starvation were

recorded as belonging to that time. The Wet Hairst was well

known in the west country as 1811. I mind that time weel. It was

a late harvest ere the corn was ready for shearing, and after the

most of the crop was cut. It rained incessantly through each

week, except the Sabbaths, for the long period of eight weeks.

On the eighth Sabbath I was at the kirk in Symington. When

Mr Wharrie entered he walked up to the pulpit with what I

thought a firmer than ordinary step, and, looking round the

church, said, in a manly voice - " My friends, you see what a

beautiful day this is. Allow me to say, that you would be more

rationally engaged in your fields saving your crops, than sitting

here listening to anything I can say to you. 1 will pray with you,

and for you, and recommend that you go to your fields with all

diligence, and engage in a work of necessity and mercy. You all

know as well as I do, that when corn is put up in huts or ricks, it

is next to being in stacks. It is not necessary that you should

hurry your victual into the barn yard, but all of you may secure it

thus far; and you who have no field work of your own are bound to

help your neighbour who has."

Some of the audience had queer misgivings, but the more

advanced went cheerfully to work. I was with a squad from

Dankeith, and on that day we put the crop on the farm of

Moormill out of danger; the last hoodsheaf was being put on

when the rain came slash down. We all went home rejoicing, as

having done a good work in due season.

In the parish of Dundonald, that year was recorded as the year

in which Johnny Rosebrugh gaed to war wi' the Almighty. The

spring of 1814 was known as the Long Frost. We had thirteen

weeks severe frost, snow, and storm. Pathways were cut for

carriers and traffic between Glasgow and Portpatrick, and every

other town in Scotland. This was to me a memorable year. So was

1811; for, as Sandy Macgilvray wad say, "corn was scarce and

meal was dear." one day I went, in company with John

Calderwood, who was foreman to Colonel Kelso, to a farm house

in the parish of Craigie. When we came to the door it was shut,

and the farmer, with his family and servants, were engaged at

family worship. They were singing psalms when we went to the

door. We stood till this part of their domestic arrangements came

to a close. Then the door opened, and forth came the farmer and

his wife. He was skranky like, but she had a gaucy appearance.

The Colonel's compliments were kindly presented to the couple,

and a request to be favoured with a boll of meal at three shillings

the peck. The old man, newly come frae saying his prayers, said

distinctly that he couldna gie't-in fact, he hadna't to gie. The

guidwife bade him to think a wee, and try and spate the Colonel a

boll. After glowering on vacancy for a wee, he began to push up

his auld yellow wig, and to rub his bare scalp. It was the first wig I

had ever seen displaced, and I thought that the wearer had a

villanous appearance. I didna like the man's look ava. We gaed

awa out to the barn, where a big kist stood-it was aboot the size

o' an ordinary coal-house. He ca'd it a garnel. He stood looking at

the outside for a wee, then bade the guidwife to gae in for the key,

and he wad see what he could do. When he opened the lid, which

he did quietly, the blue mould to the depth of nine or ten inches

was growing on the top of the meal. He took a wooden spade,

and with great caution laid aside a few spadefuls of the top,

laying it back gently on the top of other mould. Out of this hole,

like a rabbit burrowing, he brought forth four firlots, for which,

after giving gold weight, he received forty-eight shillings.

After having the sack made fast in the mouth, John

Calderwood requested a firlot for my mother. The farmer said

quite sharp that he couldna gie't. John made a long story about

my mother being a widow and having four helpless weans,

pointing to me as one of them. I didna like the idea of being ca'd

helpless. After a while the auld rascal took the wooden spade and

lifted the mouldy surface, putting it into the bucket. However,

John said, No; he was going to pay for the meal, and wanted it

good. The old heartless abortion said, with a savage grin, that it

was good enough for them; many a one wad be glad o't. My heart

failed me at hearing the old monster use sic language. I rushed out

of the barn, and was looking for a stane. I was greetin' wi' ill

nature-the tears were blinnin' my een. The auld wife looked out

o' the barn and said, "What are ye lookin' for, callant ?" I said

that I was lookin' for a stane to fell that ugly auld man wi' the

yellow wig. she took me into the house and gied me a piece

mashlum Scone and cheese. I hae had a mortal hatred at yellow

wigs and light blue rig-an'-fur stockings ever since.

In 1812 Napoleon Bonaparte gaed awa to Russia, thinking to

mak' himsel' master o' the unwieldy territory. The capital city,

Moscow, was burned, and Napoleon and his army of five hundred

thousand fightin' men were frozen mostly to death on their road

hame. That same year the United States of America declared war

against Britain, and next year, in the month of June, when the sea

fight between the Shannon and the Chesapeake took place, my

mother bought a bargain of sheeps' wool and spun it hersel' on the

muckle wheel, and John Wilson in the Hollows was trysted to

weave it into a plaidin' web, which was to be dyed blue, and then I

was to be dressed in a suit of the same. John Wilson put some

ither body's web in the loom before my mother's, and when

hairst eam' on the web had to stand still. It was late in the season

before the web cam' hame. Then it was ta'en to Kilmarnoek, to

Andrew Martin, the dyer, at Ladeside It was dyed and handed

over to the wauk-mill the last day of the year 1813.

On that vera day the frost came on which is well known as the

Lang Frost, being the longest in the remembrance of the oldest

man now alive, or even then. Thirteen weeks the frost held sway

over the wauk-mill, and every other mill in the country. The

most of the singing birds were destroyed for want of food, snow

lay deep, stormy winds with hail like pieces of cut ice felled the

hunger-stricken songsters. Our rivers were frozen to the bottom;

few fish escaped At the end of March the rivers resumed their

sway, lifting great blocks of ice out of the channel and laying

them on the holms and meadows by the watercourses, where

some of them lay dissolving and glistening in the sun till far on

in the month of June.

The wauk-mill got into motion at an early stage of the thaw;

our plaidin' web was put through the proeess of consolidation; my

mother started for Kilmarnock to bring home the home-made

blue, and I to Symington for auld Willie Loudon the tailor, to tell

him to come the morn Auld Wilie and young Willie were on the

ground, contrary to the most of country tailors' customs, at the

hour appointed. I went to meet my mother with the web, and

carried with great willingness the blue veneer in which I was soon

to appear, and in which garb I was to go among strangers.

I was at this time such a bundle of rags as nearly upset the

tailor's skill to measure me. I had been wearing off the old suits,

and had exhausted cloth, needle, and thread, on the patch-cover

principle, clout aboon clout, during this long frost. I had not

clothes to appear at school. I had a daily mending and a daily

tearing, as l visited Knockendale Loch and Coodam Loch daily. 1

mind of one day being rather a holiday. A number of dressed boys

visited the loch; I was put off every slide as a disgrace, being a

shapeless bundle of rags, with an auld hairy cap on my head. I

thought if the weel-clad boys had been good boys, they would

have allowed me at least the use of the ice. I went away to the far side of the

loch, where there was nobody, and began to make a slide for

myself. I found a pair of old well-taeketed shoes hid in a bush,

which had been used by some one for sliding purposes. I got them

on my hands, and in this new and interesting fashion stood on my

hands and feet like a dog, and was thus enjoying myself when a

young gentlemanlike lad, a stranger, came my way. He asked why

I was sliding alone. I simply said that I was so ragged that the rest

of the boys thought shame of me. He asked how it came that I

was so ill clad. I told him that the web was at the waukmill. He

laughed, and gave me a penny, saying, " Keep up your heart, lad;

you will yet, perhaps, have clothes when some of those who put

you off the slide will want them." There was something soothing

in this young man's speech. I thought that he had a firmer

appearance on his feet, that his motion was more fleet and

graceful, than any other I had seen before. I followed him with

my eye till he was lost in the crowd. His first and last appearance

is never obliterated, and I think never will. I am thus minute in

small things, to prove that there is nothing small that's right, and

that a right-spoken word is never lost and a shabby action not

easily forgot.

On the morning of the 28th March, 1814, I rose early from

bed, and was anxious for starting the first heat in the race of life

in the house and land of the stranger. My mother convoyed me

part of the way. I brought her to a stand at a corner of the road

below the Brownlie; we had passed through the Meadows and

Craig's Park as a near cut. I there requested her to stand and

observe how valiantly I would go away, so that I might be enabled

some day to assist her by the independence of labour. I walked

straight out for about a hundred yards; then, looking back, I saw

her using the tail of her apron to wipe her eyes. l gave one cheer,

waved my bonnet, and passed on again. Several turns and

repetitions of the same heroism brought me to the opposite

corner, where we took a parting look, and I vanished round at a

right angle, the tall hedge shutting off sight. I indulged in a silent,

solitary peep for some time; and when my mother turned to go away,

I could willingly have accompanied her home again. I had started a hero at the

last corner, an must not play the coward here. So I had to reason, and, reasoning, took the road.

When I gained the height at Gillside I had another view of my mother, as she passed alone through

the meadow.

Turning my front toward Dundonald, I was soon within hearing of the hammers ringing from the

study of Lowri Cobrun. Symington was the true point of comparison. What men, whose dog or

horse, was the greatest, and whether Symington or Dundonald were greatest as villages, had been

often disputed at school. I had seen two carriages in Symington in one day; but when I arrived in

Dundonald, here stood before the house of John Findlay five carriages ! There was now no dispute

in the matter of greatness; everything else seemed to grow in proportion. The old castle had such a

massive and hoary dignity, that Symington had to succumb at the first round. I asked a boy if a'

thae chaises belanged to the town. "No," he said, "there was nane o' them belanged to the place;

they were here," he said, "at Kate Brown's weddin'. Her and John Alexander were married this

forenoon."

I passed on to the house of John Rowat, with whose son James I was to be apprenticed. He it was

of whom the village poet said or sang:-,

 

" This thirty years, wi' tools and leather,
He's wrought for naething till his father."  

Few sons have the same character; yet he deserved it, an continued to do so till his death.

The features of a new home stare at you at first sight, an their impression is deepened by time. I

got a welcome frae the auld wife, whose maiden name was Mary Tait, and l which she was named

and known over the parish. Mary was an authority, and nae auld woman was ever kinder to callants.

" Our auld John had whyles a goulin' way wi' him, but he meant nae ill. I was to do what he bade

me, and wasna to be flyed by him. Jammuck was to learn me my trade, but it- depended muckle

on mysel' how I got on; for if callants were careless, naebody wad learn them onything." Such

was Mary's opening speech at my reception, and she ever

afterwards held a high place in my estimation. Preparation was

being made for my sitting down; an apron was making - it was a

tanned sheepskin, the smell of which I still enjoy in idea-when

dinner-time came. I, along with another apprentice named

Andrew Kerr, also from Symington, made a visit to the old castle

for the first time. At night I was introduced to a great number of

boys as Rowat's 'prentice, and being hungry for information about

every body and every thing I saw, the boys seemed at times

amused. Some seven horses came into the village in the evening,

and the whole of the boys seemed to take an interest in the

arrival. Every horse had a rider: John Fullarton, an Irishman, rode

old Paddy in the front of the procession - the rest of the riders

were boys, and every other horse following Paddy had a boy on

his back. Every horse had his name, and all the horses belonged,

as I was right enough informed, to Jock Brown. I made enquiry as

to what the horse had been doing through the day, and was told

that they were drawing coal waggons on the Duke of Portland's

railway between the Duke's pits at Gargiston and the Troon.

The Duke of Portland was a familiar name to me. I had seen

him once at Dankeith. I understood that he came to Dundonald

Kirk. I saw Jock Brown visit the stables after the horse came

home. Having been at his sister Kate's wedding that day he was in

full dress, and a more gentlemanlike figure I have never looked

on. He had on a blue dress coat with clear buttons on it, a white

vest, olive green cashmere breeches, and top boots. I looked at

him for some time, then ventured to ask a boy, "Is that the Duke

of Portland ?" This was the signal for diversion, and much

nonsensical information was gratuitously given. A game was

proposed in which I was to join. I was to stand up in the middle of

the street with my arms down by my side, hold up my head, and

cry, "Oh, my back!" and do it loud. Although I saw a great deal of

fuss and arrangement, everything was strange. I took my

position, and did as I was bidden. I was to stand still and shout, and

the rest of the boys were to run away from me, and I would see fun. I stood and

shouted with all my pith, as I was bidden. I saw an old man

making toward me, but I knew he was not in the game. However,

he came to me, seizing me by the collar of my new blue jacket.

He gave me a gentle shake, and looking in my face, said, in a

serious, unmistakable tone - "I see, sir, that you are a stranger,

and have been set on to cry ' oh, my back !' but recollect, sir,

should you ever take a sore back when I'm gaun by again, I'll cure

it for you. Now mind you, sir, that you have got warning." This

was great diversion to the boys; and when I inquired who the old

man was, I was told with great reverence that it was the Duke of

Portland. This was my first introduction to old Ralston, who will

cast up again ere long.

The labour and sports of the day being ended, we dispersed.

Night the first in a strange place left its marks. Auld John made

family worship; and, like the patriarch in the "Cottars' Saturday

Night," he gat down the big ha' Bible, "ance his father's pride,"

and with a musical, use-and-wont style, said, "Let us praise God

by singing a part of the ll9th Psalm, beginning at the 100th

verse." The words were so like the expression of his

countenance, I thought he was in earnest as to his excelling the

ancients.

Worship being ended, Kerr and I went up to the garret to bed.

This was the first night I ever recollected going to bed in the

dark: it had a curious, suspicious look about it. I smelt the leather

strong. I was led by Kerr to a place on the floor, and got my first

instructions as to order in undressing, and it ran thus.-"Stand

firm in one place, take off your apron, spread it on the floor,

then begin and take of your jacket, fold it and lay it carefully

down on the apron; then follow with every other part of your

dress, and be sure that you lay one thing exactly on the top of

the other; then, though you rise in the dark, all you have to do is

to seek the same place where you stood the night before, and

what you need to put on first comes to your hand as well as if it

were daylight." That lesson I never forgot, and I have seen many

an individual who would be saved much trouble were he to

practice it. The home routine of the house went on orderly, as if

stereotyped; but the garret was ever new in its tenants, and talent

of the highest order came forth like spontaneous combustion.

Rowat's garret was looked on as the college, not only in the

village, but in the parish; every sort of dogma and doctrine was

disputed, every kind of polities discussed -agricultural

improvement, landed interests and every other interest, sorted

and set aside. Retrospects of past history were brought to light by

the old men who had taken part in the contraband trade of fifty

years before; they fought their battles over again, and recalled

scenes which only lawless men could take part in. The parish

seemed to have been held by characters assuming the position of

gentlemen, keeping in their service such desperate and

determined men as could fight their way against law and order. It

is sometimes a benefit to hear such characters speak, so that we

may better compare our state of civilisation with their good old

times. Lowrie Cobrun's smiddy was the next institution where

talent met, but subjects more of an athletic cast were taken up

there-feats of strength, horse-racing, dog-fighting,

badger-drawing, shooting, poaching, and such muscular qualities,

where a good runner was an essential element to start with. There

was then, as yet, a delicacy attended to in giving out the history

of some folk, particularly if some ither folk were present; so in

that way it fell to the lot of historians to reciprocate, and each

gave the other's history.

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