,!1 'I'll ! \ '. i I' '' :4,:'ii)illi[l!lllllll!!illliil ! li' •nil V y il i ' , ' ill' Library OF CONGRESS.* L PK^p — ^ I I UNITED STATES OP AMERICA. | Erii-lhyAH Hil'h'r VK ^.^ cAla^e^ THE LIFE, LETTERS AND REMAINS OF THE REV. EGBERT POLLOK, A.M. AUTHOR OF "THE COURSE OF TIME" AND "TALES OF THE COVENANTERS." BY JAMES SCOTT, D.D. PASTOR OF THE FIRST REFORMED DUTCH CHURCH, NEWARK, NEW JERSEY. " God put into his hands A holy harp, into his lips a song That rolled its numbers down the tide of Time. NEW YORK: ROBERT CARTER, 58 CANAL ST. 1848. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1848, rV ROBERT CARTER, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. STSRGOTYPBD BY THOMAS B. SMITH, 216 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y. PREFACE I SPENT the summer, and part of the fall of 1828, the recess of the Glasgow University, in Eaglesham, Renfrew- shire, Scotland; and enjoyed much of the society of James Dobson, Esq., surgeon. His friendship was valu- able and profitable, for he was a man of rare attainments in science, especially optics, language, and poetry. He had been an early friend of Dr. Mungo Park, the African traveller, with whose family he still kept up intercourse. He had also been the intimate friend of Robert Pollok ; had watched over his progress with something akin to parental solicitude ; and knew well his sti^uggles, suc- cesses, and history. Nor was there any locality or inci- dent alluded to in " The Course of Time," of which he could not speak intelligently and eloquently. There were reasons that occurred during that time, which induced Dr. Dobson to urge me to attempt a Life of the Bard, with a dissertation on the poem. The work was immediately undertaken, the Christian Canticle read and expounded, localities visited, and facts collected ; but soon afterwards, in the face of encouragement to proceed with it, I abandoned it, convinced that it was a subject demanding the energies of a maturer mind. In 1842, after a residence of ten years on this conti- nent, I was invited to dehver an address before a lyceum, IV PREFACE, on the life and writings of Pollok, The reception of the essay, with the fact that no befitting tribute had been offered to the memory of the great Christian Poet, led me to resolve to prepare such a memorial of him as the facts in my possession would enable me. In 1846, when I had nearly finished the work, a Life of Robert Pollok, by his brother, the Rev. David Pollok, and published in Scotland some three years before, was put into my hands. On reading it, I found that although my plan and views were not developed in it, still there were numerous additional facts which I had not ; besides, the letters and literary remains of the Poet, to which no one could have access but a member of his family ; thus rendering the publication of my volume of doubtful ex- pediency. , However, after longer reflection, and suggestions from various quarters, it appeared proper to me to rewrite my Life of the Poet, incorporating every fact of his brother's in it, introducing also the Letters and Remains ; and thus to make it not only a volume of authentic biography, but one too of illustrative dissertation on his works and life, this being a desideratum in feligious poetical literature. Such as it is, with this history of its origin, progress, materials, and interruptions, I present it to the American public, as a loving tribute to the memory of the greatest Christian poet of the century. J. S. NEWARK, NEW JERSEY, APRIL, 1848. CONTENTS. BOOK I. THE POET'S CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL DAYS, CHAPTER I, PAQK Thoughts about the Dead — Biograph}'^— Pollok born in a great Poetic Period — His Poetry alone Religious — His Relicrious Pedigree — Scotland's Religious History — Rise and Progress of the Secession Church — His Ancestry adhere to it — Some of them exposed to Persecution — His Parents' Birth-place — Mid Moorhouse, .13 CHAPTER IL Mind — Influences on it — Mental Character of Pollok's Parents — The Scotch Pulpit — Philosophy, Preaching, Catechizing — Schools, Influence on Scottish mind — Pollok's Friends affected by them — His Parents efiicient — Letter from his Mother— The Poet's Tribute to her Memory, . . . 23 CHAPTER IIL The Mind measured by Thought — No Autobiography of PoHok — Incidents of his Childhood— The Mind shaped by Circum- stances — Physical and Mental changes of the Poet — His prob- able Conversion — He tries Chairmaking — Moorhouse Libra- ry — the Poet's early Reading — Success In Composition — Scenery around Moorhouse, its Influence on the Poet — Quotation from " The Course of Time," . . . .31 CHAPTER IV. Plan for writing Biography — Influence of Mrs. Young's deatli on the Poet's Mind— Lines on <' Tlie Dying Mother"— AUu- VI CONTENTS. PAGE fflon to Luther — The two Brothers, David and Robert, re- solve to Study for the Ministry — The probable Causes — Quo- tation — Announcement of the Plan to the Parents — Classical Studies at Fenwick School — The first of January at Moor- house — The Poet reads Pope's Essay on Man — Influence on his Mind — a Poem — Reads Milton — Influence on his Mind — Lines to Eliza — Finishes his School course, . . .45 BOOK II. HIS LIFE DURING THE UNIVERSITY COURSE. CHAPTER I. University of Glasgow — First Session in it— Prelection Sys- tem — Class Ode to the Sun — University Session — Return to Moorhouse — Spring Returned, an Ode— Jane — The Weeping Maid, 63 CHAPTER II. Second Session — Campbell's Influence on Greek Studies — The Poet studies Oratory with the Author of William Tell — Ode to Moorhouse — Summer recess — Studies — Lochgoin — Poetry — Third Session — Studies Logic, Rhetoric, Greek, French — Letter — Prize in the Logic Class, 76 CHAPTER HI. Summer Vacation — Letter — Professes Religion — Excursion — Descriptive Composition — Studies — Fourth Session — Moral Philosophy Class— Professor Mylne— Studies Greek — Death of Young — The Preachers of Glasgow — Their Influence on Mind— Old Dargol, 89 CHAPTER IV. Missionary Society— Address before it— Beauty of the Oration —Hymn, J05 CONTENTS. Vll CHAPTER V. PA.GE The Biographer Hke the Navigator — Essay on Compositional Thinking — University Library — Letter — Books — Visit to Ayrshire — Journal — Stanzas — Mauchline, Burns, Wishart — Strange Omission — Letters — Death of David Dickie — Letter, 1 19 CHAPTER VL Fifth Session — Hutchinson, Adam Smith, Thomas Reid, Mei- kleham. Miller, Simpson, Watt, Thomson, Nickols, Review of the University course — Death of Durant — PoUok's Talent at Conversation — Coleridge— Essay on Originality— Tokens of the Poet's Industry — Close of the College Epoch — George Buchanan, Graham, Hislop, Tannahill, Burns, Scott, Camp- bell, Wilson, 139 BOOK III. HIS BIOGRAPHY FROM THE COMMENCEMENT OF HIS THEOLOGl- COURSE UP TO THE INCIDENT WHICH ORIGINATED "THE COURSE OF TIME." CHAPTER I. Literary Degrees — The Poet Master of Arts — Great Law of Knowledge — Educated Mind — Homer, Virgil, Dante, Milton, Shakspeare — Letter — Paisley, Robert Bruce, Witherspoon, The Wilsons, Woodrow, Sir WilHam Wallace — Descriptive Letter — Extract— African Maid — Theological Schools, Fisher, Brown, Boston, Hill, Dick, Chalmers, .... 169 CHAPTER II. Divinity Hall — First Homily and Incident — Versatility in Com- position— Studies — British Poets — Dream about Milton — Helen of the Glen — Scene — Drumclog, Claverhouse, Old Mortality — Address on Preaching, . . . .187 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER III. PAOB Poet's Correspondence — Beattie, Cowper, Burns, Scott, Byron, Arnold, Simeon, McCheyne — Close of the Second Sessional the Hall — Letter— Visit to Auchindinny— The Lothians, Pentland Hills, Martyr Stone— Letters— Ode to Melancholy — Letters — Agnella — Letter — Finishes the Persecuted Fam- ily and Ralph Gemmell, 201 CHAPTER IV. Visit to Edinburgh and Auchindinny— Letters— Stay at Moor- house— Letter— The Child— Visit to Galloway, Mauchline, Airdsmoss — Richard Cameron — " Bonny Doon," — " Allo- way's auld Haunted Kirk" — "Tarn O'Shanter" — Ballach- niel — CrossraguU — John Knox — Quintan Kennedy — Turn- berry Castle — " Hallow-e'en" — Daily — Dr. Hill— Girvan — Ailsa Craig — Loch Ryan — Luce Mull of Kintyre — Glenapp — Glenluce — Michael Scot — Letter—Invitation — Divinity Halls — Sermons — Letter — Tales of the Covenanters, , .215 BOOK IV. HISTORY OF HIS SUBSEaUENT LIFE AND DEATH ; WITH DIS- SERTATIONS ON HIS POEM AND CHARACTER. CHAPTER I. Origin of the Paradiso, Gerusalemme Liberata, Paradise Lost, The Reformation, The Task, The Cotter's Saturday Night, The Course of Time — Byron and PoUok — Letters— Progress of the Poem — Letters, 239 CHAPTER II. Death Mysteries — Death of the Poet's Mother, her Grave— His Fourth Session in the Hall — Excursion to Loch Lomond —Origin of the Description of Byron — Letters, and progress of the Poem— Visit to Auchindinny and Dunferinline — Let- CONTENTS. IX PAOS ters, and proposition to publish Three Books — David Pollok's Letter in Answer — The Poet's Heart laid open — Extraordi- nary Mental Effort — Letter announcing the completion of the Poem, . 252 CHAPTER HI. Fifth Session in the Hall — His Contemporaries— His Standing as a Student — Transcribes the Poem at Dunfermline — Mr. Campbell's Omission — " The Course of Time" Scenic — Letter — Miss Swan — Poetry— Examination before Presbytery — Calls on Mr. Blackwood— Letter— Homily — The Publisher's Answer — The Press, Wilson, Moir — Manuscript of the Poem — Introduction to Wilson — Letters — Critical Exercise — The Poem Published — Letter — Reception of the Poem — Latin Exercise — Licensed to Preach, 271 CHAPTER IV. Analysis of " The Course of Time"— The Plot— The Poem a Homily — The Poet Immortalizes Poets, Dante, Shakspeare, Milton, Thomson, Cowper, Byron — Pictures in the Poem — It is the Calvinistic Poem— Its Unction — Homer, Virgil, Dante, Tasso, Milton, Wordsworth, Southey, Coleridge, By- ron, Campbell, Scott — The Greatness of Religious Poems — Thalaba, Curse of Keharaa, Endymion, Manfred, Alaster, Remorse, Lallah Rook, Messiah— " The Course of Time" not Symmetrical— True position from which to judge of it, . 285 CHAPTER V. The Poet a Preacher — First Sermon — Letters — Presbyterial Appointment — Illness — Letters — Proposal to visit Italy — Visit to Aberdeen— Byron, Beattie, Gregory, Jamieson, Burnet, Ar- buthnot, Swift, Pope, Campbell, Gerard, Reid — Letter — Darkness— Letters— Movements of Friends in Edinburgh to send him to Italy— Sir John Sinclair— Letter— Poet returns to Moorhouse — Appearance — Moorhouse, .... 303 CHAPTER VL Departure from Moorhouse for Edinburgh and Italy— Even- ing in Glasgow— Deputation of the Students— Address — X CONTENTS. PAQK Browning, Hill, King — Journey to Edinburgh — Portrait — Macnee — Calls from Literary Men — Henry M'Kenzie — Mrs. Gilmour's opposition to the Tour — Injudicious Advice — Lock- hart's Life — Will of the Poet anent the Poem — His Execu- tors — Letters — Parting at New Haven — Voyage to, and ar- rival at London — Ex-Mayor Pirrie — Letter — Mallena — Visit to Westminster Abbey — Letters— Singular Providence— He- len's Grave— The Harp no more retouched, . . . 320 CHAPTER Vn. Southampton — Beauty of the Scenery — Isaac Watts, Leigh Richmond — Desire at Death — Journey and Exhaustion — Lodgings— Sunday Walk— Scene for the Artist — Three states of Human Nature— The Poet's love of the Bible— Sir Walter Scott — Attentions to the Poet — Told that his case is hopeless — Letters — Conversation about Death— A Saint at Prayer — Chalmers— Senses supernatural ly acute — Chamber of the Ikying — His Last Night on Earth— Death— Movement in Glasgow— Letter— Burial, and the whole Visible Church re- presented at it — Letter of Condolence — Monument and In- scription, .... 336 CHAPTER VIII. Visit to Moorhouse— The Poet's Pulpit— Dialogue — The Crow Stone— Bochim— Incident— View of Moorhouse and Scenery around— The Poet's Father— The Chamber of Inspiration — The Family Group — Mournful Reminiscences — Characteris- tics of the Poet— '^ The Course of Time"— The Biographer, 352 BOOK I THE POET'S CHILDHOOD AND SCHOOL DAYS. " A young immortal then was born ; and who Shall tell what strange variety of bliss Burst on the infant soul, when first it looked Abroad on God's creation fair, and saw The glorious earth, and glorious heaven, and face Of man sublime 1 and saw all new, and felt All new 1 When thought awoke ; thought never more To sleep. When first it saw, heard, reasoned, willed; And triumphed in the warmth of conscious life 7" LIFE OF POLLOK. CHAPTER I. " In humble dwelling born, retired, remote In rural quietude ; 'mong hills and streams And melancholy deserts, where the sun iSaw, as he passed, a shepherd only here And there watching his little flock ; or heard The ploughman talking to his steers." Who has not dreamed about the beautiful faces which have often looked out of the windows of our houses, and that are now covered up with white shrouds in the green graveyards : nor been haunted with wishes to know the story of all those gone off to eternity, whose canticles we sing, books we read, architectural structures we admire, pictures and statues we gaze on ; and whose wisdom, heroic deeds and eloquence, will float forever, like undy- ing angels, along the hill-tops and the sea-shores of earth ? Alas ! few and scanty are the memorials of the dead which time has kept from oblivion. The desire, too, to meditate on the dead, is in- finitely increased, when we consider that they still continue to live, think, act and feel : that the re- tiring from the house of clay and the going away from earth, is not the utter extinction of being : 2 14 LIFE OF POLLOK. that they have merely changed locaUties, but not their essential nature. The great thought maker is imperishable, and so are its thoughts. Are not ideas the leaves and blossoms of the immortal soul ? The rod of Moses Vi^ith its leaves and buds w^hich blossomed and w^ithered not, is a beautiful and truthful emblem of the human mind and its thoughts. " If a man die, shall he live again ?" The Gospel "hath brought life and immortality to light." There is one mind amid the population of disem- bodied souls, whose existence on earth can never be forgotten by the Christian. " The Holy Harp which God put into his hands," " will roll its num- bers down the stream of time." The unction of that song has already fallen like the dews of the Spirit of God on many a heart, and given existence and direction to innumerable trains of holy thought. He has become the centre of an interminable circle. Nor can a finite being put a true moral estimate on " The Course of Time." In portraying an individual mind, it is necessary to look at it in all its manifold relations : so in this effort to sketch the story of the young Christian Poet, Robert Pollok, I will not only consider the thoughts which he created and uttered, but also the circumstances operating on him and producing them : the men who were contemporary actors with him, and the country itself where he arose and flourished. What would the " Divina Comedia" be, if isolated from the scholastic theology and philos- ophy of the thirteenth century, and cut off from EPOCH OF GREAT POETS. 15 Italy and Italian scenery and literature. It is not possible to write biography without frequent digres- sion and episode. The period in which Pollok appeared was one of uncommon intellectual splendour. The harp of Burns, the real Shakspeare of Scotland, was yet vibrating with his last inspirations. Cowper's " Castaway" thrilled the admirers of " The Task." The hand which had struck the Northern Harp and produced the "Minstrel," was just palsied. Crabbe, Wordsworth, Scott, Coleridge, Southey, Campbell, Byron, Shelly, Keats, Moore, and others of immortal name, were all living at the time in the island of Albion. Never before had the English muse such a faculty of bards. It was in this brilliant constellation of poetic stars, that Pol- lok arose and shone. He was born at North Moorhouse, parish of Eaglesham, Renfrewshire, Scotland, on the 19t.h day of October, 1798. Scotland too, is, to a mental portraiture of the author of " The Course of Time," what background is to the landscape. It gives a colouring to every characteristic of his genius. Its history, poetry, phi- losophy, legend, scenery, sons, daughters, and relig- ion, are the many-coloured rainbow which span his whole life. They are the warp and woof of his song. Scotland is to hiai a land suggestive and fruitful of ideas. His visions are of her eventful story. " Her solitudes" are the places " where nature sowed her- self and reaped her crops." *• Her brooks" were his " minstrels ;" her " moon and stars" his lumps ; 16 LIFE OF POLLOK. hei' " thunderbolts" his orators ; and her '* everlast- ing hills" his rural palaces. " The Course of Time" is a poem, too, which hangs alone in the gallery of the epoch. The most beautiful and finished of the others appertain to earth ; this alone is a heavenly song. Scott had struck the " Harp of the North" to chivalry and love. Byron worshipped at the shrine of the clas- sic muse, and embroidered his songs with eastern garlands. Shelly sung of Deism, Southey of Pan- theism, while Pollock undaunted arose and touched a *' Holy Harp, which God had put into his hands." The heart of religious Scotland was instantly moved by his numbers. It is impossible to look back over that tract of time without feeling that " The Course of Time" appeared on the earth and testified in be- half of the remedial scheme. It was a canticle about the God of the Bible; rich, too, with the jewels of the Gospel, as well as gorgeous with the colourings of earth's most variegated scenery. But there can be no likeness given of Robert Pol- lok which overlooks his pedigree ; nor is this anom- alous in biography. Did not the ancients trace the origin of their heroes up to the gods ? He had a long line of pious ancestry, which sustained pe- culiar relations to Scodand, and to religion in the kingdom, especially after the great Reformation of the sixteenth century. A brief sketch of Scot- land's religion will not be irrelevant to the estab- lishment of this point. In no other country on the earth has the history Scotland's religious story. 17 of the church been more eventful and tragic. In the third century Paganism was abolis'ied and Christianity estabhshed. In the fifth, Prehicy was introduced at the very time the heresies of Pela- gius were producing immense excitement. In the seventh Pontifical, Itahan missionaries arrived, who harassed the native clergy and people, because they refused to acknowledge the Pope's supremacy, and recognize the unscriptural law of priestly celib- acy. In the twelfth, many of the abbeys were built for the promotion of monkish devotion. In the fif- teenth, WicklifF, " the morning star of the Reforma- tion," taught in Ayrshire the very doctrines after- wards proclaimed with such vehemence and suc- cess by John Knox. The sixteenth century stands out on the canvas of history with uncommon prom- inence, as the era of Hamilton, Wishart, John Knox, Buchanan and the Melvills. In the seven- teenth century there was a great baptism of blood. The pen of history has always had to record the fickleness of the human mind as exhibited in the unsanctified masses : but here we turn aside to no- tice the tergiversation of the church of God. In the very advent of the eighteenth century, a spirit of worldliness began to come in upon the church like the coming in of waters. The principles for which the martyrs had contended and spilled their blood w^ere lost sight of In the chief places of the kingdom, ministers w^ere settled who were destitute of the spirit of their predecessors. Indeed, in a very few years, much of the fervid spirituality of the 2* 18 LIFE OF PCLLOK. Gospel, for which so many prayers had been offered from the tops of snowy hills, and for the mainte- nance of which so much of Scotland's best blood and treasure had been expended, was supplanted by a cold, Christless formalism. In the year 1732, this state of things reached a crisis. Ebenezer Erskine preached a sermon on the prevailing worldliness of the Kirk, in which he animadverted with great yet faithful severity, on the ministry. Much excitement was produced by it, among all classes of society. In a year or two, after much injudicious policy on the part of infe- rior judicatories, he and three others were suspend- ed from the ministry by the General Assembly. God, however, was in this movement ; for these men, with their adherents, have become a great nation, and were made in his hands a conservative influence to the whole Kirk of Scotland. It was this nucleus which grew, spreading its branches not only over Scotland and Protestant Ireland, but among many of the states of the American confed- eracy, and which gave birth to such divines as the Erskines, Fisher, Boston, Dick, and the late Dr. John Mason, of New York. This secession gradually gathered around it much of the deep, decided piety of the kingdom. It was only a spark at the beginning, but it soon became a great fire. Those, whose minds were imbued with the martyrology of the kingdom, with the memories of the Reformers, and filled with the an- nals of the religious struggles, adhered to it. Be- THE poet's martyr LINEAGE. 19 sides these, there were the enemies of a state relig- ion, and many of the ardent lovers of civil freedom. Among those in the west of Scotland who cast their influence in with it, were the immediate progenitors of the Author of " The Course of Time." His father was nurtured in the first congregation of this body, which was organized in Renfrewshire, and his mother in the first in Ayrshire. This digression casts light on " The Course of Time." Nor is it possible to avoid the conviction that the mind which produced it was raised up for that purpose by the God of truth. There is, truly, a pedigree of mind which is more worthy of notice than that which is merely physical. The princi- ples and habits of parents are often entailed on their children. National traits and peculiarities are traceable to this affinity. There are characteris- tics which distinguish families. The wife of John Welsh was the daughter of the Scottish reformer, and inherited his mental peculiarities. Her biogra- phy would make a beautiful and befitting sequel to his. The history of Pollok's ancestry is essential to the development of his literary life. The fervour, spiritualism, and lofty aspirations after religious liberty, which pervade his great poem, compel us to look back to this noble source. Three of his immediate ancestry suflfered during the religious persecutions of the latter part of the seventeenth century. One of them was shot ; another escaped to Ireland, where he remained three years in exile ; and a third was banished to Barbadoes, whence 20 LIFE OF POLLOK. he returned at the Revolution. The Dickies and Gemmells, of Ayrshire, are names which have been tried by fire and blood, and are inscribed among those worthies whose memory shall never be for- gotten while there is one heart filled with love to Christ and his cause, in Scotland. John Poliok, the father of the poet, was the third generation who had occupied the same lands on lease from the Eglinton family. Margaret, his mother, was the daughter of James Dickie and Margaret Gemmell, who occupied a farm in the neighbouring parish of Fenwick. The Rev. Mr. Guthrie, author of the celebrated treatise, " Saving Interest," and champion of the National Covenant, has given a prominence and notoriety to this place ; indeed, after the lapse of a century and a half, there are not wanting proofs of his graces in the lives of the descendants of his parishioners. Robert Poliok was the seventh child of his pa- rents. The family consisted of four sons and four daughters ; but three of whom, with the mother, had gone to the spirit land before the publication of " The Course of Time." He was baptized in the Secession church at Newton of Mearns, when he was a few weeks old, by the Rev. Andrew Thomson. It was, however, in the Secession church at Eaglesham, which became the family sanctuary, that he worshipped God, when a boy, Sabbath after Sabbath, in the great congregation. He was in his seventh year when the family moved to Mid Moor- house, which is about a mile to the south of North HIS "christian song. 21 Moorhouse. It was here he grew to manhood, and wrote the great "Christian Song.'' His own pen hath sketched the scenery : " Four trees I pass not by, which o'er our house their evening shadow threw : Three ash and one of ehn," CHAPTER II. " What tongue 1 no tongue shall tell what bliss o'erflowed The mother's tender heart, while round her hung The offspring of her love, and lisped her name : As Uving jewels dropt unstained from heaven, That made her fairer far, and sweeter seem, Than every ornament of costliest hue." The human mind may properly be compared to soil ; if cultivated it will bring forth a larger fruitage of ideas; on the other hand, if neglected or placed in circumstances where it receives few impressions, it will be utterly unproductive. Ideas are the in- habitants of the mind, and it will be populous or deserted in the ratio of the effort to people it. Nor ought it ever to be forgotten, that among the fore- most agencies in its formation and development, are those of parents, associates, scenery, and relig- ious institutions. The Biography of the Author of " The Course of Time," cannot be fully written without giving an important place in it to the con- sideration of these causes and influences. His parents were not learned in the arts, sciences and philosophy of the schools, yet they were thor- oughly conversant with Bible truths. They held the Calvinistic scheme to be the only one revealed ; HISTORY OF THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 23 considering all the opposing theories as dishonour- ing to God. They knew the positions of conflicting theorists. Scotland, in their youth, was a great school of polemics. Every sermon which they heard was a compendium of divinity ; and many of them were rich with sacred and profane literature. The Bible was an unlocked and open volume to them, and formed their chief library. Every per- son in Scotland could read in those days. It was an era of sanctified Sabbaths and reverenced sanc- tuaries. The noble and the peasant studied the re- medial system. God dwelt in the land ! Scotland, about that time, was also busy laying the foundations of mental philosophy. The sermons, while abounding with Bible doctrines and exhorta- tions, were often metaphysical. Nor is this strange when it is remembered that the great mental gladi- ators, Hume, Reid, Beattie, Stewart, Smith, and others, contended successively in " the foughten field." The whole Scottish people were not only spectators, but became, at length, interested parti- sans. The teachers in the parochial schools, who were an educated class, spoke freely to their pupils concerning the conflicting philosophic theories, and the clergy discussed them, both publicly and pri- vately. In a letter from Dr. Porteus, author of the celebrated poem -'On Death," and Bishop of London at that period, to Dr. Beattie, the philosopher, which may be found in Beattie's fife by Sir William Forbes, he makes use of the following remarkable language : " In the range of my acquaintance, 24 LIFE OF POLLOK. which IS pretty extensive, both among the clergy and laity, I have never yet met w^ith a single per- son of true iste and sound judgment, who did not speak of your ' Essay on Truth' in the warmest terms of approbation." Now, if so great an interest obtained in Englani concerning the philosophy of the period, how muci greater must it have been in Scotland, the very theatre of the antagonist parties. It is not to be inferred from this allusion, that the preachers of the day substituted philosophy for theology, as was partially done at a more recent time, in certain quarters in the kingdom. On the contrary, they introduced philosophy for the pur- pose of defending the true theory of mind and ethics, and neutralizing the dogmas of infidelity against the genuineness of miracles. Hermeneu- tics and sacred history were also made available by the ministry to stem error. Nor was there ever an epoch in the Scottish pulpit when greater atten- tion was paid to instructive, textual, spiritual preach- ing. The system of lecturing every Lord's day also prevailed. The ministers were in the practice of enunciating from the pulpit the Hebrew and Greek words which had a disputed rendering, or peculiar signification. The people, too, were in the habit of carrying their Bibles with them to church, marking the passages quoted, and studying them carefully afterwards at home. Indeed, few persons who had arrived at mature years were ignorant either of the disputed passages in the Old and New Testaments, or the best ren- HISTORY OF THE SCOTTISH PULPIT. 25 derings of them. There was not, perhaps, a pious shepherd on the heath-covered hills of the Low- lands, who did not know that the words in itaHcs were not in the original languages: that there are only two passages which allude to Job, out of the book called by his name : that the translation of the third verse of the ninth chapter of Romans may well be, "could have wished" instead of "could wish!'* also, the numerous criticisms about 'Slehovah,'' "Je- hovah Tsid-kenue," " heavens," '' firmament ;" espe- cially the fact that three of the constellations are allu- dedto by Job. The word " covenant" too was known by them, its Hebrew meaning and use; and that portion of the eighth chapter of Proverbs referring to the divinity and eternity of the Second Person of the Godhead. I particularize these with a view of showing the character of the Scottish pulpit in the infancy of the poet of "The Course of Time;" and especially the philosophical, critical, and theo- logical information possessed by his parents. The history of th«e church in the world, and par- ticularly in the kingdom of Scotland, was also thor- oughly enlarged on in the pulpit. This custom was greatly facilitated by the epitome of history intro- duced into the Bibles of that period. It extended only to two or three leaves at the close of the New Testament, and was divided into seven historic ages. The preachers often alluded to this compen- dium. Their glowing, extemporaneous sermons, were indeed interwoven with history and prophecy idJ<.e sister threads of gold and silver. They expa- 3 W9 LIFE OF POLLOK. tiated much on the causes which induced, and those which were then paralyzing, the progress of the Reformation in continental Europe ; on the revolu- tionary struggles in Scotland, between Prelacy and Presbytery, Armenianism and Calvinism. There were also words and thoughts for the conscience and heart. The kingship of Christ was a fruitful topic, nor can Erastianism ever find a solid foot- hold in the kingdom, until the seed sown during those days be withered and utterly defunct. Catechetical instruction and .annual church ex- aminations, had also much to do in forming the characters of the people at that time. All the fam- ilies in a district convened yearly in some large building, frequently a barn, and spent several hours in answering questions propounded by the minister, the Shorter Catechism of the Westminster Assem- bly being the text-book. The Sabbath evenings, too, were always devoted to the recapitulation of the heads of the sermon and the lecture, which the whole family had heard. The catechism was taken up after this and recited by old and young, as the concluding Sabbath service of the household. There was also a family altar in every house, with a very few exceptions. It was in the midst of such institutions that Pollok's parents were nurtured, and through such agencies that they were qualified by God to raise up an intelligent and useful family. The parochial school had also afforded them the elements of a good education. There were but few books in the schools in those days, yet education SCHOOL AND FAMILY EDUCATION. 27 was thorough, and not, on this account, defec- tive. The Bible and the catechism occupied the first place ; then came grammar, arithmetic, geog- raphy and caligraphy. The Roman and Greek literature was restricted to candidates for the min- istry, law and medicine. By this parochial system of education, Scotland was at that time, if not even now, a land of scholars. Whether, therefore, we think of Mr. Pollok's parents, as mere peasants, or morally as Christians, we may set them down as in- telligent in the true and proper sense of that term. They early became pious, and were spared to see five of their children arrive at an age of puberty. Robert was their seventh child, hence he had the advantage of their maturer judgment and increased piety. Besides, the story of the religious struggles in the kingdom were early written on the poet's heart. Moorhouse was within looking distance of many of the martyr haunts. The blood of these men was also coursing in his veins. Scotland's trials were household talk with his parents. It was a holy family circle, every day being reckoned by them as an integral portion of existence. The morning and evening sacrifice afforded the priest of the family an opportunity to discourse about the mys- teries of regeneration and faith. On these occa- sions there went from their united hearts to the God of minstrelsy Old Hundred, Devizes, and Dundee. But it was the mother who was the childrens' living oracle. She sung to them the lays of other years ; 28 LIFE OF POLLOK. related the sufferings of the Covenanters, their he- roic bravery and victory over death. In a word, she filled up the interstices of their young minds with thoughts which were the seeds and roots of knowledge, and expounded to them the ever recur- ring mysteries of Nature and Revelation. Robert often spoke of his mother as his great in- structor and educator under God. Nor can I omit inserting in this place a letter which he wrote from her dying chamber to his brother David, at her re- quest. They had both reached manhood at the time. It elucidates this portion of my history, and illuminates her mental portrait. " Moorhouse, April 4, 1825. «' Dear Brother — Our mother is very weak, and wishes me to tell you that she has little expectation of regaining health. She came into the room a few moments ago with your letter in her hand, and wished me to tell you that she had read it all over and over again with great satisfaction. She wishes to say farther, that it should be the great business of all, and especially of those who pro- fess to teach others, to set forth, in their doctrines and conduct, the loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Jesus Christ. ' These,' she says, ' are most astonishing ! the tongues of men and angels vnll never be able to speak half their praise.' It is her desire that you may, just like the old apostle, Paul, 'determine not to know anything in preaching, ' save Jesus Christ and him crucified." She adds, ' this is the main thiiig ; other things are useful ; but, who- ever wants this, I am afraid his speed will not be great. I am ex- traordinarily pleased that you both seem (o be sound on this point. I cannot use words sufficient to recommend to you the loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Christ ; but I have thought often about it, that the Creator should become man for the sake of sin- ners ! Surely, such infinite love will never be manifested again ! Let it be the business of your lives to set it forth ; it can never be praised enough. It gave me wonderful satisfaction to think that A mother's eulogy. 29 he,' meaning you, ' conducts himself, becomingly, I wished to say this much, and it is all I have to say ; and I think it better that you write it to him than to wait till he come. Perhaps I might not be able to say it then. Robert Pollok." The poet proceeds, in the same letter, to say, that he beheves the time of her departure was at hand. These are his words : — " She is, in many respects, hke our Uncle David, a few weeks before he died. She speaks with the same composure of death, with the same warmth of redeeming love, and is very like one whom the great Forerunner will soon receive into the everlasting mansions." From these dying expressions, it is evident that she was competent to speak even to her educated and pious sons on the subject of Bible doctrines and experimental piety. They had both reached man- hood when this was written, but they had not out- grown her in an experimental and doctrinal knowl- edge of Christ. Indeed, there is not anything in '' The Course of Time," w^hich I have ever admired so much as the following tribute to his mother. He was conversinsr with his brother David about the theological views set forth in the poem, when he observed, these are his very words : — " It has my mother's divinity ; the divinity she taught me when a boy. I may have amplified it from what I learned afterwards : but in writing the poem I al- ways found hers formed the groundwork, the point from which I set out. I always drew on hers first, and I was never at a loss ; this shows what kind of a divine she was." 9* LIFE OF POLLOK. Her ear was deaf when this eulogy was pro- nounced, yet ministering spirits may have carried it upwards to her. Nor will this apparent digres- sion be regretted by my reader when he considers that it is irrefragable testimony to the controlling influence of this mother over the poet's young and growing mind, as well as in the creation and exe- cution of the immortal poem. CHAPTER III. " His morning hopes awoke before hini smiling, Among the dews and holy mountain airs; And fancy colored them with every hue Of heavenly loveliness." The human mind can only be measured by the number and magnitude of its thoughts ; nor can we ever fully comprehend it, unless we have access to these. It is on this account that autobiography is so interesting. How different would be the condi- tion of man, and the amount of human knowledge, if every thought which came into the mind left a visible impression on some part of the universe. If it was traced on the leaves of the forests, or on the face of the clouds and sky, or was pictured on the ocean, or took a tangible form like a bird. But may there not be something akin to this, although we have never seen nor heard of it ? May not the an- gels paint our thoughts on everlasting canvass, or en- grave them on the precipices of the eternal worlds, or treasure them up with the other mysteries of exist- ence ? Who can tell, but that his own thoughts are so many creations which are as immortal as the soul which brought them forth, and that they shall hover around and minister to him, through all the future eternity. 33 LIFE OF POLLOK. There is no autobiography of Robert Pollok ; and no man can go back into the past and collect his emotions and thoughts : all that can be done is to gather together the desultory incidents which friend- ship has preserved, and out of these to shape a like- ness of his mind. There are large interstices of his earthly existence over which we must step without resuscitating one departed thought. Not that his mind was not thickly peopled with ideas, during these periods, but because we have no talismanic powder to bring them back to earth. Like the trav- eller who brings with him mosses and shells from the shores he has visited, let us concatenate every memorial of the author of ''The Course of Time," and interweave the story v/ith occasional flowers gathered from the highways and bowers of earth. In Scotland, some fifty years ago, it was the cus- tom to keep little boys in petticoat garments a much longer period than now. Nor were they dofled all at once, but only on the Sabbaths, requiring, in many cases, a lengthened probation to pass from the one style of attire to the other. It was said that the poet, when a child, felt severely the bondage of this usage, and on a certain occasion went to his mother and told her " that he ought to put his boy's clothes on now every day." To which she replied, with her usual decision, " that he would get them on every day, when the old ones were worn out." At these words he immediately left the apartment ; nor was he long in returning, when, to her astonishment, his petticoat, being torn round and round into a long DEATH AND SORROW. 33 narrow strip, trailed behind him tortuously, like a travelling serpent. He was immediately unrobed and accoutred in the Sabbath-day habiliments. This incident is more than a childish freak. It is one of many things which goes to show that his in- fancy was characterised by sagacity and prompt decision. There is another occurrence referred to his seventh year, which is also worth a passing no- tice. It is a memorial of his affections. A solitary leaf cast upon the stream will speak of its course to the traveller. Andrew, the youngest child of the family, died at the early age of two years and six months. This was a solemn event in the isolated family of Moor- house. The lamb had been carried off by angels to the great fold in heaven. Every eye wept as it looked upon infant innocence sleeping in the em- brace of death. It was the holy sorrow of a Chris- tian household. They mourned because his lips were sealed up till the resurrection day ; and at the remembrance of his little vocabulary, new waves of bitterness rolled over their souls. There was one heart more deeply agonized than the others, and this was the poet's. Although he was only in the sev- enth year of his age, his grief seemed to be incon- solable. He wept one entire day, refusing to be solaced. Nor did the tide of bitterness then ebb away. On the contrary, for weeks afterwards de- jection and melancholy were visible on his counte- nance. Who can tell the number and variety of his thoughts during that period? It may be that he S4 LIFE OF POLLOK. asked God in his own childish phrase, what death was ? Why did Andrew die ? and where did he go? He no doubt assayed in vain to fathom the mystery of death. It was a new thing to him. Nor can we hesitate to beheve that the impressions and cogitations connected with that event became the centres of innumerable trains of thought, which af- terwards grew out of his soul like leaves, buds, blos- soms and flowers. Circumstances exert an incalculable influence on the human mind. The child whose eye has gazed on a sea-storm w^ill have different emotions from one who never beheld such a sight. Nay, the child who is accustomed to look upon pictures of exquisite taste, and to listen to the finest music, though re- moved soon afterwards out of the influence of both, will have impressions which no subsequent scenery or sounds can ever efface. The mind is like the sapling which the great wind bends ; ages may roll away, but the traveller who wends his way through the forest will find a patriarch tree bent down. It is this fact which accounts for no small amount of the varieties of intellect discoverable in the same generation. The incidents of childhood are engraven on the tablets of the mind. Old age is usually gar- rulous about the prodigies of its youth. The death at Moorhouse is an event identified and affecting the mental history of the author of " The Course of Time." It was shortly after this death-scene that Robert was sent to a private school at South Langlee. Al- EARLY EDUCATION. 35 though, however, only in his seventh year, he was not unlettered nor untutored : on the contrary, through maternal instruction, he had attained to the high mastery of reading the Bible. Nor was this a small acquisition. It reflects undying honour on the matron and the son. He had also committed to memory the shorter catechism of the Westminster Assembly, that grand divinity system of the Scottish youth, and no inconsiderable portion of the sacred psalter. He attended this primary school for about a year, making suitable progress in the course, and receiving impressions for the first, perhaps, of intel- lectual aspirations and competition. In his eighth year he was sent to the parish school of Mearns, some three miles distant from Moor- house, going and returning every day. A Mr. Andrew Jackson was parish schoolmaster. Here Robert attended for seven consecutive years, ex- cepting the harvest months, when he assisted in the labours of the farm. If the educational course had been an extended and comprehensive one in that school, he would have realized no small amount of knowledge ; but the system embraced a very lim- ited number of studies. The Enghsh department was restricted to spelling, reading, writing and arith- metic. There were no prelections given to rouse the dawning intellects, nor the necessary school ap- paratus introduced of this quadrant of the century, to aid synthetic or analytic demonstrations. Such, however, as the course was, he gave close attention 8B^ LIFE OF POLLOK. to it, and always maintained a highly respectable standing in the several classes. His contemporaries at this school remember him not only as a scholarly boy, but as a leader in their juvenile games. He had all the elements of char- acter essential for power. He was vigorous and athletic, outrunning the fleetest ; humorous and witty, exciting laughter and joyance wherever he appeared ; sarcastic and eloquent, reproving when improper advances were made ; ready to engage in any hazardous enterprise, without one grain of cow- ardice ; and always felicitous in his school exercises and recitations. Two great changes passed over the youthful poet during his last year's attendance at this school ; and we notice them because they are as lines falling ob- liquely over the disk of his early life. The former was a merely physical mutation ; the other, at least moral if not spiritual. In one of the athletic plays he seriously injured his chest. It was a game of chase ; he outran his pursuer, bounded like a deer over an intervening rivulet, and fell exhausted on the very margin of the stream. It was a hot pur- suit, for the other boy dropped down on the near bank, unable to cross over. For some time they lay like exhausted stags, panting by the water, and when Robert attempted to rise he felt a severe pain in his side. That was a dark day in the calendar of his Hfe. He never recovered his former buoyancy, and from that hour his ruddy complexion gave place to a sallow Italian-like appearance. PROBABLE CONVERSION. 37 The other change, which occurred about the same period, was one of an entirely different kind. It related to the nobler part of his nature, and was, per- haps, traceable to a supernatural cause. He laid aside, almost in a day, his impetuosity and irritabil- ity, and put on a dignified, calm, and self-possessed manner. In subsequent years, he accounted to his brother David for this sudden alteration in his mien and habits. He ascribed it to the influence exerted on his mind by a perusal of the Four Gospels. He said he was struck with the meekness and dignity exhibited by the Saviour of men in every condition in which he was placed, and resolved in Divine strength to make Him his model and exemplar for the future. " The entrance of God's word giveth light" to the mind, especially when " the Lord openeth the heart." There is a mysterious connection existing between the reading of the word and the enlightening of the mind by the Holy Ghost. The one is the instru- ment, and the latter is the agent, in conversion. Previous to regeneration, the mind is like a dark chamber, every object in it being comparatively opaque : on the other hand, when the enlightening process has commenced, it is like to an illuminated hall. The dividing line between sin and holiness is clearly recognized, and the soul like the languishing Hebrew of old, who gazed upon the brazen serpent and was healed, looks to Jesus Christ " and is lightened." The change upon the poet youth, if we may judge from his subsequent life, was one of 4 38 LIFE OF POLLOK. the heart. The Saviour is only " precious to them who beHeve." To the unconverted he is " as a root out of dry ground." It was the ancient church which exclaimed, " he is altogether lovely." Is not one ray of light sufficient to show the outlet from a dungeon ? The pen of history delights to linger around that point in the poet's life ! But it is only when the veil is taken off the face of eternity that the whole truth in the case will be known. Soon after this occurrence, Janet, the youngest daughter of the family was married to David Young, a cabinet-maker. He resided at the village of Barr- head, which was a few miles distant from Moor- house, and carried on this business on his own ac- count. He was anxious that Robert should come and reside with him and learn the trade. The poet had never entertained or expressed any preference in the matter ; but partly from solicitation and partly from a fond attachment to his sister, he consented to go and make a trial of his mechanical talents. He only remained long enough, however, to make four chairs. The reason which he assigned on re- turning home, for abandoning the trade, is charac- teristic, and sets forth very clearly the prevailing bias of his mind. The cabinetmaking business, he said, seemed interesting enough while he was making the first three chairs, but that he made the fourth without thinking, and could not follow any trade which did not require thought. We are not sur- prised that the author of " The Course of Time" felt that there was nothing in the manufacture of PATERNAL LIBRAKY. 39 Scottish ashen chah's to meet the aspirations of his mind. During the current year, he remained at home, assisting daily in the business of the Moorland farm. His industrial habits rendered his services highly available. But although assiduous and untiring in his manual occupations, he did not overlook the higher efforts of the intellect. In the moments of physical relaxation, he read, studied, and reflected. The thoughts which he garnered up from various sources, and which continued to aggregate, formed the material on wdiich his busy mind acted. The library at Moorhouse, though small, was select and valuable. The catalogue is brief. There were the Holy Bible, with the ancient apocryphal books ; the Westminster Confession of Faith, Fisher's Cate- chism, the Scots Worthies, a compilation of Mar- tyrology, by John Howie, of Lochgoin; Barclay's Dictionary, Salmond's Gazetteer, the first volume of the Spectator, Burns's Poems, and a school book, containing extracts in prose and verse. These books were to him as sages with whom he held much communion. It cannot be too frequently enforced, that it is not from the perusal and study of a multitude of books that our minds and tastes are enlarged and formed, but rather from a few, which are select and sugges- tive. The author of " The Course of Time," had all in these that his youthful mind required. The Dictionary furnished him with the meaning and ori- gin of all the words which he acquired, and that is 40 LIFE OF POLLOK. the very age for logomachy. The Gazetteer sup- pHed him with all the history and geography which he could profitably store up in the chambers of his memory. The Confession of Faith and Catechims settled definitively to him the formula of the scheme of Redemption. Addison and Burns were both ele- gant models in prose and verse. The Bible was it- self a perfect cyclopaedia of Providence and grace. Nor could such a mind fail to expand amid such living fountains of thought. There is one incident related by David PoUok, which fully illustrates the positions assumed. It is this — Robert, he says, carried out to the field, one day, the odd volume of the Spectator, and read with much care one of the articles in it. He analyzed the subject matter and verbiage, commented on them, spoke about the style and animadverted on it. Nor was this all ; in returning home from the toils of the day, he remarked that he could write something ex- tremely like it, and did actually sit down and com- pose what appeared to the whole family to justify the expression. A rustic boy of sixteen years of age, who studied the principles of English composi- tion in this way, could not fail to find a niche in the temple of undying fame. But I would fail to pourtray faithfully the whole of the circumstances which developed his mind, if I omitted to set forth the scenery with which he be- came familiar during this forming period of his life. Indeed, too little importance has been given to this agency in every philosophic estimate of causes PROSPECT FROM MOORIiOUSE. 41 which mould and operate on the youthful and ex- panding intellect. There are few places in Scotland from which the prospect is more extended and diversified than from about Moorhouse. At a short distance from it, Balagich hill rises and overlooks a vast expanse of most variegated and magnificent landscape. It is the great pyramidal elevation of Renfrewshire. If it be taken as a central observatory, the radii from its green top extends from forty to one hundred miles, while the circumference of prospect includes some four hundred miles of hill, and dale, and sea. There is not, perhaps, in the kingdom of Scotland, a tract of scenery richer in historic and poetic lore. There is Stirlingshire, away to the north, green with the ancient memories of its castle, and the bloody Bannockburn. To the east, Edinburgh, its castle and palace of Holy Rood, each of which were the scenes of the greatest epics in Scotland's dramatic story. Nearer to this observatory lie the shires of Lanark, Renfrew, Ayr, Wigton, and the Western Isles — " Scotia's battlement of hills," all immortal by the heroic deeds of successive generations. The past comes back on the soul, with its wonderful memories, as we gaze on that panorama. Amid the myriads of dim and misty objects, there seems to ap- pear the Wallace and the Bruce, the stalworth cham- pions of civil freedom ; and nearer our own days the outlines of Welsh, Peden, and Cameron, the apostles of Scotland's religion. Here and there, too, on every side, stand up, like everlasting monuments, Tinto, 4* 42 LIFE OF POLLOK. Wardlaw, Cairntable, Carpshairn, Ailsa Craig, Ben- Cruachen, Ben-Lomond, Ben-Ledi, Uom-Var; hills which are crowned with the evergreen laurels of native poesie, that Ramsay, Burns, Bruce, T anna- hill, Scott, Hogg, and Motherwell wove in the mo- ments of their inspiration. Add to all this aggregate of real beauty and imaginary glories the glimpses of the sea and misty lakes which the eye takes in, with the rivers of Clyde, Forth, Calder, Ayr, and Cart, that twine around the hills and wind throughout the vales, like silver avenues : — whoever wishes for one vista of primeval magnificence, let him ascend to the highest peak of Balagich, and look east, west, north and south. It was amidst such scenery as this that the mind of PoUok was nurtured. Perhaps there were days, and weeks, and months, in which he wandered over *' the neighboring hills," and held communion with river, vale, hill, clouds, stars and sky. Nor is it prob- able that there was one day during the first fifteen years of his existence, in which he did not imbibe some new conception of the face and lineaments of nature. A mind so observant must have distin- guished between the clouds of summer and winter, as well as between those of spring and autumn, and engraved the different tints on the tablature of his soul. Nay, he could probably interpret with the ken of a seer the future changes of the weather. He must have been familiar with the mists and meteors ; with the sunlight, moonlight, and the softer, silver light of the stars ; with the voices of the waterfalls, the EFFECTS OF SCENERY. 43 songs of the mavis and lark ; with the shadows of the mountains ; as they moved silently, like ghosts, over the vales, before and behind the pale moon- beams ; with the dews and rains, snows and frosts ; with the lowing of the cattle and the bleating of the sheep ; with the shrill scream of the plover and the hum of the wild mountain bee, as it luxuriated in the blue bells of the thymy heather. Nor was this all ; he must have thought of the rich owner of that estate, especially when the wintry winds made music to God, when the thunders lifted up their voices, and the lightnings hurried past like burning angels. The Reformation scenes, too, as they stood before him, must have spoken to his soul as voices from eternity, proclaiming the Redemption work the greatest one of God. These things were before his eye like a map, and floating through his mind like an everlast- ing river. In his own significant language — " His soul was with their glories filled." He speaks, in the Fifth Book of " The Course of Time," of his feelings and emotions amid these early haunts. These are his own words : " Nor is the hour of lonely walk forgot In the wide desert, where the view was large. Pleasant were many scenes, but most to me The solitude of vast extent, untouched By hand of art, where nature sowed, herself, And reaped her crops ; — whose garments were the clouds ; Whose minstrels, brooks ; whose lamps, the moon and stars; whose organ choir, the voice of many waters ; Whose banquets, morning dews ; whose heroes, storms ; 44 LIFE OF POLLOK. Whose warriors, mighty winds ; whose lovers, flowers; Whose orators, the thunderbolts of gods ; Whose palaces, the everlasting hills; Whose ceiling, heaven's unfathomable blue ; And from whose rocky turrets battled high, Prospect immense spread out on all sides round : Lost now between the welkin and the main. Now walled with hills that slept above the storm. Most fit was such a place for musing men." CHAPTER IV. " His parents saw — his parents whom God made Of kindest heart — saw, and indulged his hope. The ancient page he turned ; reach much; thought much*. And with old bards of honourable name Measured his soul severely." Might not the order of writing biography be in- verted, and additional interest given to this species of composition ? If the present was to be made the point of commencement, then the writer and reader would be like the scientific navigator, who launches out into the stream, and sails against the current, ascending by his skill to the very head-waters of the river. Much would be gained by this plan. Every distinct incident affecting the character of the per- son described, would be more clearly brought to view. It would give greater breadth to the subject. It would be like beginning with the base of a pyra- mid instead of the pinnacle. It is the analytic pro- cess in history. The usual method is the synthetic. It is extremely difficult, when a great man dies, to leap back over his eventful life, and look unprej- udiced on the first buddings of his being. The bril- Hancy of his latter days casts a kind of fabulous halo over his very childhood. It is hke attempting to 46 LIFE OF POLLOK. sketch a landscape, which is covered with the crim- son glory of the setting sun. But to begin with the death-scene, and travel back through the wilderness of life, would require more philosophy, epic skill, and dramatic power, in the narration : hence it is better for us to imitate the savage in this particular, who reclines in his canoe, and without wind or oar is carried by the current for weeks, through the vast forest solitude, down to the great ocean receptacle. The death of Mrs. Young, in the spring of 1815, about a year after her marriage, appears to have left an indelible impression on the poet's heart. She gave birth to a daughter on the ninth day of April, and died on the seventeenth. He was present dur- ing the death-scene, and wrote a poetical descrip- tion of it nine years afterwards. It was written at the request of his brother David, and addressed to the little surviving niece Janet, who had, from her orphanage, become an inmate of the family at Moor- house. This child lived to womanhood. She was talented, accomplished, and pious ; and married, a few years ago, a Mr. Colquhoun, of Glasgow. But, hke her youthful and sainted matron, left him very soon to join her beloved kindred in the skies. We do not know of anything in the whole range of ancient and modern poesy, which will compare in faithful delineation, pathos, and beauty, with this description of the " Dying Mother." It has the rich unction of inspiration in every line ; and seems to be the oracular utterance of a bereaved heart. It is a Christian Painting of a death-bed ; and such a THE DYING MOTHER. 47 colouring of it too, as the ministering angel of God might have sketched. There are hundreds of fami- lies on earth, in every generation, that will see themselves in it, as in a polished mirror. It is fit to be hung up in the gallery of heaven. It is the very embodiment and solution of the apostolic query, " O death, where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ?" The poet took it some two years after its composition, and inshrined it in the Fifth Book of " The Course of Time." " Fresli in our memory, as fresh As yesterday, is yet the day she died. It was an April da}' ; and blithely all The youth of nature leaped beneath the sun, And promised glorious manhood ; and our hearts Were glad, and round them danced the lightsome blood, In healthy merriment — when tidings came, A child was born ; and tidings came again, That she who gave it birth was sick to death. So swift trod sorrow on the heels of joy ! We gathered round her bed, and bent our knees In fervent supplication to the Throne Of Mercy : and perfumed our prayers with sighs Sincere, and penitential tears, and looks Of self-abasement ; but we sought to stay An angel on the earth ; a spirit ripe For heaven ; and Mercy, in her love, refused : Most merciful, as oft, when seeming least ! Most gracious when she seemed the most to frown I The room I well remember ; and the bed On which she lay ; and all the faces too, That crowded dark and mournfully around. Her father there, and mother bending stood, And down their aged cheeks fell many drops Of bitterness ; her husband, too, was there, And brothers; and they wept — her sisters, too, 48 LIFE OF POLLOK. Did weep and sorrow comfortless ; and I, Too, wept, tho' not to weeping given : and all Within the house was dolorous and sad. This I remember well ; but better still, I do remember and will ne'er forget The dying eye — that eye alone was bright, And brighter grew, as nearer death approached: As I have seen the gentle little flower Look fiiirest in the silver beam, which fell Reflected from the thunder cloud that soon Came down, and o'er the desert scattered far And wide its loveliness. She made a sign To bring her babe — 'twas brought, and by her placed. She looked upon its face, that neither smiled Nor wept, nor knew who gazed upon 't, and laid Her hand upon its little breast, and sought For it, with look that seemed to penetrate The heavens — unutterable blessings — such As God to dying parents only granted. For infants left behind them in the world. " God keep my child," we heard her say, and heard No more: the Angel of the Covenant Was come, and faithful to his promise stood Prepared to walk with her tliro' death's dark vale. And now her eyes grew bright, and brighter still, Too bright for ours to look upon, suffused With many tears, and closed without a cloud. They set as sets the morning star, which goes Not down behind the darkened west, nor hides Obscured among the tempests of the sky, But melts away into the light of heaven.'^ Who has not been reminded, after reading these lines, of the quaint and forcible language of the great Luther, in reference to such events. These are his words : — " There can be no doubt that women who die in the faith, in child-bearing, are saved, because DESIRES THE MINISTRY. 40 they die fulfilling the end for which God created them/' It was soon after this afflictive providence that the poet and his elder brother David, resolved to study for the Gospel ministry. On a confidential conversation relative to their future plans, they were astonished to find that it was a simultaneous p-urpose with them. The thought had burned in both hearts for a week or two before the one dared to utter it to the other. There is something curi- ous in this fact ; and beyond the range of philos- ophy to expound. It would seem as if God had sent an angel to drop two thoughts which were twins into their hearts. Nor does it require any argument to satisfy the Christian that such purposes originate in heaven, fast by the white throne of the Eternal. It were well for the church and the world, if the ministry were viewed more than they are, in connection with the kingly office of Jesus Christ. There is a tendency in the age both to overrate and depreciate the office. " The elders," who occupy such a conspicuous place in all the apocalyptic vi- sions, are the representatives of the grand army of New Testament prophets, who are ^* to go into all the world, teaching all nations." It may be difficult, nay, impossible, to trace the secret movements of God, in that soul, which he has from eternity or- dained to be a " torch -bearer" in time : yet the fact of his kingly interposition, and calling of it to that work, is a verity which is beyond all doubt. It is a tremendous dignity to which God raises 5 50 LIFE OF POLLOK. man, when he chooses him to the ministry of recon- ciUation. But as there are no supernatural elections of men to this office, as in the case of Paul, it is needful that the greatest discretion be used by those entering into it ; as well as by those who are in- trusted with the ordaining power. From all that is known concerning the views of the poet, it is evident that he considered himself led by Providence to this step. He had an irresistible desire to serve God in this capacity. His blameless life, aptness to teach, and possession of talents suited for the work, were other proofs, which were brought to view in his subsequent career. He was never permitted to be a pastor of the Lord's family, in this naughty world ; yet was allowed to blow the Gospel trumpet thrice ; and these blasts were not only solemn, but felt to be accampanied by the power of the Highest. If we gather together the few incidents which are preserved of that period of his life, it will not be dif- ficult to weave a chain of causes which may have induced this purpose. There was the death of his infant brother, which produced the most solemn trains of thought in his childhood's mind. Then the maternal lays and teachings, especially those concerning the martyr ministers of Scotland. Next the heart-change which was realized in connection with the reading of the Four Gospels : nor of small importance was the death of his beloved sister, Mrs. Young. But these are all belonging to the class of visible and tangible agencies. Who can tell the INFLUENCE OF PRAYER. 51 mysterious and irresistible operations of the Holy- Ghost on his mind ; or who can put an estimate on the unseen influence which the angels of God may have put forth, as they ascended and descended in their hourly ministries to him ? Who can tell how much the prayers of these pa- rents were connected with this good purpose of their sons ? Doubtless that mother had often re- tired amid the shadows of the lingering and deepen- ing twilight, communed with Jehovah concerning them ; and sought for them, the consecrated office of high ambassadorship. A mother whose mind was so stored with the rich treasure of the Gospel, and who could so well recount the story of the mar- tyrs, must have been great in prayer, and a fre- quenter of the mercy-seat. Nor can any portrai- ture of ours give a life size of the father. He was a man of thought and prayer, and acted as the prophet of God to his household. He uttered himself in the solemn phrase of Scripture ; and had the meek and humble mien of a holy man. None but God and the recording angel, who registers the prayers of parents for their children, can tell the wresthngs of this sire for his sons, with the great Angel of the covenant. Indeed, whether we look at the agencies without or within the soul, which resulted in this purpose of the poet ; or consider it in the bud, the bloss- om, and the flower, the hand of the Lord is conspic- uous. The poet's descriptions of the " ungodly" and the " faithful minister," in " The Course of Time," show 52 LIFE OF POLLOK. that his mind was filled with a sense of the magni- tude of the ministerial office. The one " Was a wolf in clothing of the lamb That stole into the fold of God, and on The blood of souls, which he did sell to death, Grew fat." The other was a totally different being, he was " Elect by God himself, Anointed by the Holy Ghost, and set Apart to the great work of saving men. his call, His consecration, his anointing, all Were inward, in the conscience heard and felt J'^ Our history becomes more dramatic and episodic, as we proceed. The purpose of these brothers was neither idly cherished nor rashly revealed, but pru- dently communicated to their parents at the earliest opportunity. Here was a frankness and candour which were proofs of their deep filial piety. What an evening must that have been at Moorhouse, when these two young men poured out all their soul, on this great scheme, into the ears of the family group. Angels no doubt came there and ministered : a great cloud of witnesses were there, who were deeply interested in the progress of pure religion on the earth: God was there: — and this must have been the language of these parents' hearts, " Ye are the Lord's, we gave you to him at baptism, and have often since reconsecrated you to him. It is the Lord's doings : blessing, and honour, and power STUDY OF THE CLASSICS. 53 to Jehovah Tsid-kenue, who is choosing you *as golden pipes to empty the golden oil/ " On the 2d day of December, 1815, the brothers entered on their preliminary classical course at the parish school of Fenwick. As it was several miles distant from Moorhouse, arrangements were made to board and lodge them with their maternal uncle, David Dickie, of Horse Hill. This was a highly opportune circumstance, because he was a man of large reading and sound reflection. There were few farmers of such acknowledged talent. His or- dinary conversational language was not only ele- gant, but terse and powerful. Nor was Robert long there, until he called his brother's attention to it. Nay, he often remarked in his after life, that his uncle's style inspired him first with the desire to study language, with the view of making it a per- fect vehicle for thought. The first day of January is a great jubilant sea- son in Scotland. It has been a memorable day there ever since the Romans exercised supremacy over the southern portion of the island. Then, it was held sacred to the bifaciel deity Janus, who looked to the Future and to the Past ; but now it is devoted to hilarity and festivity. On the advent of the year 1816, the young scholars availed them- selves of the holiday to visit Moorhouse. It was not, however, that they might indulge in the na- tional pleasances, but to exhibit their progress to their parents. They had been absent for only four weeks, yet short as the period was, had made no 5* 54 LIFE OF POLLOK. inconsiderable advancement. They had committed to memory the whole of Mackay's Latin Rudiments, and translated the first lesson in Corderius. It would have made a beautiful picture, if that family group could have been given to the canvas as they gath- ered around the ingle to hear them read that Latin lesson. Nor is it yet too late for the limner to give it to immortality. They translated their first Latin lesson, and received unutterable pleasure from the fond approval of their listening and astonished pa- rents. There is a rich reward promised to parental faithfulness. May Scotland never raise up a gen- eration, which shall forget to honour the preceding one. Their connection with this school continued until the middle of July, 1817, during which time they read the greater part of Corderius, the whole of Cor- nelius Nepos, most of the commentaries of the school edition of Caesar, with the first three books of the iEneid ; and committed to memory the elements of Greek grammar. This may be looked on by some as a limited course of Latin classics, with which to enter the University. It is not, however, the amount of Latin which is read, that entitles to scholarship, but the mastery which is possessed over the principles of the language. He who has critically studied the grammar has a key which will enable him to enter not only the vestibule, but the labyrinth of the tem- ple. It were well if Corderius occupied a higher place now in the preparatory studies : — nay , was 55 committed to memory by every student. It is the colloquial book of humanities. During this period the mind of the poet received impressions which did much in forming his poetical taste. Helvetius and others assert the parity of mind, and ascribe the diversities discoverable to circumstances. This is an ultimate opinion : yet causalities and accidents exert a greater influence on intellect than is usually conceded. Pope's " Es- say on Man," had fallen into his hands, and became a study to him. He read, analyzed, compared, ad- mired, and incorporated it into his modes of think- ing. It is a philosophical poem, and well fitted to be a model. Nor is it to be overlooked that Byron was first charmed with poetic numbers by a perusal of Pope's Homer. He says, " as a child I first read Pope's Homer with a rapture which no subsequent work could ever afford." Again he remarks — " Pope's faultlessness has been made his reproach." Burns was induced " to build the lofty rhyme" from a careful reading of Fergusson's poems, and espe- cially his " Farmer's Ingle." The following poem was written by Pollok, as an exercise at the time, and with a view of seeing how nearly he could ap- proach to the elegance and terseness of the " Essay on Man." It is the earliest of his poetical produc- tions which has been preserved. He was then in his eighteenth year. 56 LIFE OF POLLOK. A POEM ON PHILUS AND PHILIS, TWO LOVERS. It is from God we have our blessings here, And 'tis our duty to live in his fear. Give ear to me, tune up my weak-stringed lyre, And with immortal sense my heart inspire, To speak aright about this lovely pair, Like Celadon and his Amelia fair. Philus has features better set than fine ; In Philis grace and beauty rare combine. ****** At the first sight each other's heart they gain. In amity united they remain, ***** On summer eves, when zephyrs cheer the plain, And waft the sailors o'er the flowing main, Away strays Philus glad to Philis' bower, Who ready waits to meet him at the hour. ****** No — in their converse no such stuff has place, But all their talk's of learning, love and grace. ****** But heaven, I hope, will soon the two make one, In Hymen's bands their course on earth to run. While thou art pleased that they abide below. May blessings great of all kinds on them flow. When death, the arch-foe, shall at last be sent, And bid them yield their life, from Thee but lent, Transport them hence to mansions high above, Where they'll be blest with an eternal love." There are several lines in this early effusion, pos- sessing the simplicity of Parnell and Tickell ; and the epigrammatic sweetness of Pope and Dryden. They are not worthless samples of verse, but buds INFLUENCE OF MILTON. 57 of poesy, requiring only time to have expanded into roses. It was also during this preliminary school course, that he first read Paradise Lost. He found it among his uncle's books. His brother David alleges that, next to the Bible it became his favourite volume. He had often heard of the " Divine Milton," but never before had seen any of his works. This dis- covery of Paradise Lost was the beginning of a new epoch in his mind's history. It was to his intel- lectual nature what the finding of the Bible was to Luther's moral being. It was a rich and new cabinet of ideas to him. His mind launched out upon the boundless sea of epic song. Who can tell the positive impulse which it gave to his intellect ? The action, actors, sentiment and language, were all so many separate fields, in which his soul, no doubt, luxuriated. From every perusal of his own "great song," we are strengthened in our convic-, tions, that he thoroughly analyzed Milton's poem. He could take down and put up the pedestals, columns and architraves in the episodes; imitate the cornices of the temple itself; and rebuild with the same materials the lofty vestibule. He had ex- amined minutely the carved work; and had pic- tured in his mind the alcoves for theology, history, philosophy, angels, and all the other desiderata of this prodigious structure of human thought. In the autumn of 1816, his brother John requested him to furnish a few lines of poetry to insert in a letter to a friend. The following " Lines to Eliza," 68 LIFE OF POLLOK. were written in compliance with this solicitation. The fragment is remarkable as a specimen of his mind's progress ; and exhibits forcibly the influence of Paradise Lost on his studies. LINES TO ELIZA. WRITTEN AFTER HER TYRANT FATHER HAD SEPARATED HER FOR- EVER FROM MEUVAN's ADVERSE FORTUNE. O sweetest, fairest of the fairest »ex ? Virtue untainted dwells within thy breast. Too fair, too virtuous, if such things can be, Thou art ; for thou hast wounded me, who heretofore Was wounded never, with such darts of love. Why wast thou formed So fairl If so, why from my eyes not hid 1 Or rather, why do I not thee possess 1 Since wanting thee, unhappy — with thee, blest. Alas ! by fate, thou'rt to another doomed ; To one, who, by some inward pravity. Is without happiness, and thou with him ;, And I, for want of thee, unhappier. Had I of life thy partner been ordained, We to such happiness had reached below^ That thoughts had been by us of future bliss Neglected — our grand business in this world. Hence may we learn, that disappointments here, And every cross, are blessings — blessings such As from this grovelling waste, to heaven our thoughts Uplift, where happiness unmingled dwells. To heaven conformed be then our mundane track, That, at a future day, — transporting thought ! Our Judge may be our Advocate : if so For evermore, in realms of peaceful love, We our abode shall have : where we'll enjoy Pleasures, abundant as is their Great Source^ ,. - Endless as He who lives eternally." FINISHES HIS SCHOOL COURSE, 59 The sentiment, the phrase, and the transparency of this production, are equally worthy of notice and eulogy. His mind had made a great stride in four brief months, if we may judge from the two pieces. Nor would we fail to do injustice to these early ef- forts, if we passed by in silence their spiritual char- acter. His song, in its very incipiency, was wet with the dews of his early piety. The month of July, 1817, terminated his connec- tion with Mr. Fairlies' school, at Fenwick. Nor can we evade the impression, that during the six- teen months he attended there, he laid up in his mind a large amount of that poetic lore, which a few years afterwards brought forth such a fruit- age. Before entering the University, he spent three months more in the private study of the ancient classics. But this chapter would be incomplete, if we failed to give prominence to the diligence and indefatigable perseverance of the poet student. Nor did he give his Sabbaths to mere intellectual pur- suits. It is on record that he attended regularly, during this preparatory course, the public ordi- nances of the sanctuary, under the ministry of the Rev. John Ritchie, in the town of Kilmarnock. Whether, therefore, we look at him as a student, or a young Christian ; whether as a son or a brother ; whether as a poet or a theologian, we are equally pleased with his character. " The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord." BOOK II HIS LIFE DURING THE UNIVERSITY COURSE. "The true philosopher, decided friend Of truth and man. Determined foe of all Deception, calm, collected, patient, wise. And humble, undeceived by outward shape Of things, by fashion's revelry uncharmed, By honour unbewitched,— he left the chase Of vanity, and all the quackeries Of life, to fools and heroes, or whoe'er Desired them ; and with reason, much despised, Ti-aduced yet heavenly reason, to the shade Retired." CHAPTER I. " It became The aim of most, and main pursuit to win A name — to leave some vestige as they passed, That following ages might discern they once Had been on earth, and acted something there." The University of Glasgow was founded and en- dowed by Bishop Turnbull, in the middle of the fif- teenth century. In those days Rome wielded the sceptre of universal empire. Pope Nicholas the Fifth, at the request of King James IL, sent a bull con- stituting it a " Studium generale/' or University. At the Reformation, a number of causes conspired to destroy it, which would have been successful, but for the interposition of Queen Mary and the city council, who granted large endowments to it. More efficient aid was bestowed by James VL, of Bible memory ; and a new charter given, which in all essential points has continued in force down to the present time. There are four distinct Faculties : those of arts, Theology, Medicine, and Law, including some twenty different professors, each of whom, according to law, ought to subscribe the Westminster Confession of Faith on entrance. Twenty-five or thirty years ago, 64 LIFE OF POLLOK. the average number of students was about fifteen hundred. Those who attend the classes in arts, wear a scarlet gown, made after the fashion of the Roman Toga. They are all exempt from the juris- diction of the city magistrate, and reside in lodgings at their own discretion, in any part of the city. Besides the University library, which is very large, and entitled to a copy of every new work published in Great Britain, there are class libraries, containing each a choice collection of books in distinct depart- ment. The Hunterian Museum is a rich collection of curiosities, anatomical preparations, mineralogy, books, and paintings. The lecture-rooms are large and commodious. The grounds which lie in the rear of the University buildings, are undulating and enlivened by a brook meandering through them. There is an air of antiquity about the place. The several edifices are all constructed of dark brown stone ; the older ones covered with the moss and tarnish of centuries gone by. Here stands the stone bust of Bede, the most venerable Briton of the eighth century ; there a huge stone lion, with a stone chain, the emblem of British sovereignty, guarding as it were, the temples of art and science. In the University library, too, is an antique, carved, black, oaken chair, with a dark marble seat, and a rudely formed minute-glass, raised on the back of it, presented by King James the Fourth. Every stu- dent sits in this chair while passing his examina- tions. It is a relict of " the olden time," and asso- ciated with many illustrious names who belonged to HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 65 preceding generations. It is the veritable chair on which the reformer, John Knox, and the greatest scholar of his age in Scotland, George Buchanan, both sat, when passing their literary ordeal. The historical associations connected with Glas- gow and its University, must have exerted a very great influence on the poet's mind. Every student can appreciate this observation. The city itself dates back to the times of the Roman invasion ; and is identified with many of the important inci- dents in the kingdom, during the times of the " ill- fated Mary" and the Reformation. It was in the suburbs, that the battle of Langside was fought be- tween the Queen's forces and the Regent Murray. Here too met, in 1638, that famous General As- sembly of the Kirk of Scotland, which declared the whole Episcopal system, introduced by Charles First, null and void ; and restored the Presbyterian polity. At the restoration of Episcopacy, in the times of the Second Charles, many persons there Vv^ere put to death for nonconformity, whose tomb- stones may yet be seen standing in the streets. Nor least in the items of its history, is its early trade with the North American colonies. The University itself is like an episode in the an- nals of Scotland. It cannot be dissociated from the Cathedral and Blackfriars' church, and is, therefore, covered with the halo of their history. It is a cen- tre from which has radiated a prodigious amount of influence. Many of the minds educated in it have woven laurels that have been hung in high places. 6* 86 LIFE OF POLLOK. It has sent forth an army of learned men. Many of the first ministers of the Gospel, and professors in these United States, were instructed there. There is, perhaps, no institution in the kingdom, which has had a larger number of distinguished men connected with it. It was in the beginning of November, 1817, that Robert Pollok and his brother David entered them- selves as students in this ancient and celebrated University. At that time several of the classes were divided into junior and senior departments. This method had many advantages, and was partic- ularly beneficial in the classification of students. The poet joined the senior class in Latin, or Hu- manity, as it is designated there ; and the junior division in Greek. The literary or sessional year is only about six months, yet there is a vast amount of knowledge communicated to the classes. The prelection sys- tem of education is pursued. The professor ex- pounds and illustrates the lesson. Everything which can elucidate the subject is set forth ; nor is it possible to be a member of any of the classes, without gathering together much valuable informa- tion. The student is required not only to translate freely, but also critically, and according to the idiom of the author. Besides this, weekly essays and philological exercises are prescribed and rigidly required. This method obtains in the studies of the first year, as well as through the whole subsequent course. At the end of the session, certain premi^ TRANSLATIONS. 67 urns are awarded to the most distinguished mem- bers of the class, which are bestowed by the pop- ular vote. During the first session, Robert is said to have discharged the duties of the class with much credit to himself He did not obtain a prize, still he stood high as a student. Besides meeting the require- ments of the class course, he wrote a prose transla- tion of Anacreon, an original English ode, and two poetical translations from the Latin ; one of them was the " Fury," in the twelfth book of the iEneid. His feelings were deeply hurt by Professor Walker's neglect of these productions. Perhaps it is attribu- table to his eccentricities. On the English ode was found written in pencil, by the professor, when re- turned to the poet, these words : " Some of the verses are very spirited." " Why not, then," said Robert to his brother, " read them to the class ?" It was probably owing to this circumstance that he never entered, avowedly, on the arena for class honours, although he frequently received them. He determined to attain that excellence which would give him eclat with the thinking multitude, beyond the walls of the University. Nor did he decide in- judiciously, for his talents were of a very high order, and fitted him for a brilliant position in the galaxy of mind. Providence was fitting him for large usefulness in the church and the world, and not for the narrow circle of the academic halls. The following are the stanzas, some of which 68 LIFE OF POLLOK. were so indirectly eulogized by the Professor of Humanity. ODE TO THE SUN. " Hail, thou immortal source of light! At thy approach, the gloomy night, Ashamed, shrinks from thy ray ; The moon, submissive, disappears, And all the planets, in their spheres, Are lost in whiter day. The lion quits the brightening plain, And all the nightly-prowling train Now fear the blood they 've spilt ; Rebellion, riot, wild misrule. Night's progeny, of mischief fiill, Fly, conscious of their guilt. Hark ! how the grateful sons of day Extol the penetrating ray That banishes their dread : In tuneful notes, the feathered throng Melodious pour the early song, And every leaf is glad. The bleating flocks, the lowing kine, In rougher notes the concert join, As gayly wide they graze ; The fields, all waving richly gay, The flowers, unfolding to thy ray. Though silent ; smile thy praise. Now, from his couch upstarts the swain, And sprightly hurries o'er the plain, To see what night has done : With heartfelt joy, his flocks among, He joins the universal song — ' Hail, ever bounteous Sun !' " UNIVERSITY SESSIONS. 59. The University year being one of only six months, the intervening months afford an opportunity to in- digent students, to teach, and to all, an occasion for reviewing the studies of the session ended ; as well as for making preparations for those to be pursued in the following term. This plan seems to conjoin all that is valuable, both in a public and a private system of education. During one half of the year, the student has the benefit of rivals in the same studies ; of public libraries ; and of a residence from home. The remaining half of the year opens up to him the sanctifying influences of home ; secures an invigorating atmosphere, scenery, and the society of persons engaged in the diversified pursuits of life. Nor is it easy to affirm how much these things have had to do in giving the professional men of Scotland such a prominent place in the em- pire of knowledge, for the last two centuries. The poet returned to Moorhouse to spend the summer vacation, as soon as the session closed. He made himself useful on the farm, doing the work of a man. His physical strength was not equal to some of the severer toils ; still he was never behind the most energetic. Nor did he lay aside the studies of the University : on the contrary, every moment of time, that was not occupied in manual labour, was devoted to reading English, Latin, and Greek. It was, probably, on his arrival at his rural home, that he wrote the following ode to " Spring Re- turned." 70 LIFE OF POLLOK. SPRING RETURNED. Now gloomy winter hides his head, With all his ghastly-looking train, And Uving nature, from her bed, Refreshed and vigorous clothes the plain. The genial sun with kinder ray. Awakes the slumbers of the year. And starting beauties, young and gay, The gladdening face of nature cheer. The infant leaf, nursed on the tree, Foretells the glory of the grove ; The flowery graces paint the lea, And tempt the youthful step to rove. The new-born incense, grateful smell. Floats on the softly-sighing gale ; The river now, with gentler swell. Glides murmuring through the peaceful vale. In joy elate, the feathered throng Confess the cheering voice of spring; With heaven-taught aim they swell the song, And nature hstens while they sing. The frisking flocks, in guileless play. Forget white winter's perilous reign ; The herds released, exulting stray. And hill and dale unite their strain. Man, too, renerved, with joyous eye Looks wide on nature's annual birth; Sees plenty in her bosom lie, And gives his soul to grateful mirth. Hail, vigorous spring! child of the skies! O'er wide creation swell the lays ! On heaven-bound gales the anthem flies. And Heaven, delighted, hears the praise ! JANE POETRY. 71 There is a manifest improvement in these verses. The poet's ear had become attuned to the cadence of song ; and his heart to the finest gradations of thought. To one who had spent his previous Hfe amid the beauties of natural scenery, the advent of spring must have been enrapturing ; after a winter's residence in the city. The following lines to Jane, are pastoral in their character ; and may have been founded on reality. " The Lass of Bailochmyle/' one of Burns's most beautiful songs, is brought to our mind on reading them. JANE. On yon green hill that lifts its head Scarcely above the village spire, Beneath a hawthorn, careless laid, I watched the golden day retire. And heard the gentle streamlet rove, And gloaming sing to welcome love. The zephyr woke from downy sleep, And from its earth-refreshing wing. Shook balmy dews, that nightly weep Upon the flowery breast of spring ; The skylark sung her vesper hymn, And hamlet bell toU'd resting time. Sweet was the sound to labor's ears ! His Ufted axe the woodman dropp'd ; The ploughman, glad, unyoked his steers, His love-plight flower the shepherd cropp'd ; And dogs and men with joyous din, Slow to the village gathered in. The sentinel-sheep watched on the moor. And heaven's bright eyes, one after one, 72 LIFE OF POLLOK. Looked forth, and on her nightly tour, Cinctured with clouds, the moon rode on, And over lake, and wood, and height. Threw her mild and shadowy light. And now, the music of the rill Joined concert with the pibroch's swell, That floated far o'er rock and hill. Where ever-listening echoes dwell, And on the dewy moonlit green The village youths and maids were seen. From care and daily toil set free, In sooth it was a dainty throng ; With joke, and mirth, and dance, and glee, And guileless love, and artless song ; Even crazy age young feats would try, And boyhood raised the joyous cry. Yet one among this merry race. Seemed wishful of a place to mourn ; The beam that trembled on her face. Displayed a cheek with sorrow worn ; Her hair, uncombed, hung on the breeze ; Her robes betrayed no art to please. She heeded not the lover's tale That softly sighed to win her ear. And oft her downcast eye would fail, And shady locks, to hide the tear ; And oft her long deep heavy sigh Responded to the laugh of joy. I saw her slowly steal away, And leave, unseen, the mirthful throng; And, where a rivulet's waters play. Sadly she strayed and sighed along; And still she plucked the flowery band. And held them in her snowy hand. Whatever flowerets nature wild Nurses unbid— the daisy fair, THE WEEPING MAID. t3 The violet meek, the primrose mild, And thyme that scents the desert air, She pulled ; and where the churchyard gray- Looks on the moon, she held her way. Silent and sad the place of graves She sought : pale slept the starry light On the long grass, that kindly waves O'er humble tombs, and sighs to night ; And, from the old religious 3'ews, Dropped on the maid the weeping dews. A hillock rose beneath their shade ; And thither Jane well knew the way ; Soft from her hand the flowers she laid. And strewed them where her Henry lay. Henry who oft had wiped her tear, Pressed to his heart, and called her dear. I heard her once repeat his name ; " Henry !" she said with deep, deep sigh, And down her cheek a teai'-drop came. Too pure for man's unhallowed eye ; An angel caught it, offering meet ! And bore it to the Mercy-seat. There is a spirit of devotion running through all his poetry. Besides, he utters his numbers as one who had looked into the mysteries of love ; as well as into the shifting phases of external nature. " The Weeping Maid/' is another garland to his harp. THE WEEPING MAID. Evening, with thy shadows dun, Come and veil the gaudy sun ; From the idle gaze of day Wrap me in thy mantle gray : 7 74 LIFE OF POLLOK. Mirth delights in Morning's shine; I have tears to mix with thine, Tears a parent must not see : let me then, sad Evening, weep with thee ! I love thy melancholy eye, Saddening earth, and saddening sky ; And the latest lingering beam, Dying on the mournful stream, O'er the pebbled shallow creeping j And the dews forever weeping ; And the shadows meeting fast ; And darkening wood, and moan of nighted blast- Of nighted blasts, by Ayr, that moan While I walk his banks alone, Asking every star above. What wrong 'tis for a maid to lovet Is there aught beneath the sun Fitter than to love the one Who returns my fondest sigh, Who for me would live or die ? Father ! did I make my heart 1 Could I turn its love apart From the youth, whose angel look All my ravished senses took 1 Is it that I follow fate, 1 weep alone, and bear a parent's hate 1 Leaping from the mountain's side, Down the slope the streamlets gUde, Freely minghng, as they flow Through the glowing vales below. Freely does the ivy rest On the bough that suits it best. Happy lark ! that sings all day Notes forever sweet and gay -^ Happy that, when evening's come, It descendeth to its home ; PATERNAL LIBRARY. 75 To the bosom of its bride, By the grassy hillock side ! Happy nature's children all, Listening still to nature's call; Ne'er a father's wrath to prove, Like me, because I cannot change my love Evening, with thy weeping dews, And with every mournful muse. Come, and in thy mantle gray Wrap me from the gaze of day ; Till my soul, from thraldom free, Gain the land of liberty ; Where no parent's heart is hard, Where no virgin's love is marr'd ; Where no persecuted maid Seeks the night her tears to shade ; Where, before the Eternal's face, Freely souls that love embrace ; All their native rights regained, Every holy wish obtained ; Till my Maker set me free, O let me still, sad Evening, weep with thee ! ■It CHAPTER 11. " Might he not walk through Fancy's airy halls 1 Might he not History's ample page survey'? . Might he not, finally, explore the depths Of mental, moral, natural, divine]" Mr. Pollok returned to the University in Octo- ber, 1818, and entered the senior division of the Greek class. This was the only one which he reg- ularly attended during this second session. He had determined to penetrate into the mysteries of the Greek tongue. Nothing short of a profound knowl- edge of its dialects, accents, Homeric digamma, particles and metres, came up to his standard. It would have required years to have realized such a scheme ; still it was well to aim at much. Camp- bell, " The Bard of Hope," had given a stimulus to the study of Greek literature in the University. Twenty years before he graduated w^ith a reputa- tion for Greek scholarship, which no young man before nor since had enjoyed. His translation of " The Clouds" of Aristophanes was pronounced as unique among college exercises. Nor is there any- thing which we have seen equal to his translations from the Greek of Alcman, Tyrtseus, and Euripides ; all which were originally written as class exercises. STUDIES ORATORY. 77 It is impossible to state what positive attainments Mr. Pollok made in Greek during that session : still, from his subsequent fondness of the language, as well as from his attention to it, on all opportune oc- casions, it is not to be doubted but that he made suitable progress. Who can estimate the influence of Campbell's Greek scholarship and poetical fame on his mind during that period ? " The Choice of Paris," " The Dirge of Wallace," the elegy, " Love a'nd Madness," and even the greater part of "The Pleasures of Hope," were written at the Univer- sity ; and were consequently considered as laurels peculiarly belonging to it. Many a student who came after Pollok, felt the witchery of Campbell's fame ; and, at the contemplation of his early suc- cess, had longings after immortality. About this time, James Sheridan Knowles, the celebrated author of "Virginia," "William Tell," (fee, had public classes in the city for the study of oratory. ^ Mr. Pollok availed himself of his instruc- tions during this session. Here again was a new field of thought opened for him. The great masters of eloquence were held up before him. The ora- tions of Demosthenes and Cicero were recited. The speeches of Pitt, Fox, Sheridan, Grattan, and Patrick Henry, were re-delivered. The peculiari- ties of these wonderful minds laid open. Nor can any man tell what power the living voice and the beaming eye of such a preceptor exerted on such a mind as Pollok's. Indeed, the man who could write " William Tell" and " Virginia," must have been 7* 78 LIFE OF POLLOK. capable of inspiring minds less gifted than that of the author of " The Course of Time." It was during the Christmas holidays of this sec- ond session, which he spent at home, that he wrote the following ode : — ODE TO MOORHOUSE, Far from the giddy cheerless crowd, That press the street, thoughtless and loud, In ancient majesty arrrayed, Time-worn Moorhouse, thou stand' st displayed. Thy walls irregular could tell, At Bannockburn what numbers fell ; How Bruce, with strong resistless hand, From proud oppression saved his land: When popes and kings in hellish rage, By persecution thinned the age, Thy walls a faithful shelter proved To those that God and virtue loved. Oft in the silent midnight hour — When listening heaven's Almighty Power, With ear inclined, delighted hears The good man's prayer, and wipes his tears — Within thy walls assembled saints Praised Him who wearies not nor faints ; Praised Him who sheathed the bloody sword. And, undisturbed, his name adored; And angels joined the ascending song, Wafting it to the eternal throng. The lofty trees that by thee grow, A supplicating look bestow On me, a stripling, easy laid Within their hospitable shade ; And, sighing, say, " The kindly hand That gave us birth in this blest land. Centuries ago, lies in the dust ; ODE TO MOORHOUSE. 79. Us gently prune with feeling hand, Nor to destroy us give command. Thy fathers, now above the sky, Watched o'er us with paternal eye ; O, to our age some reverence yield ! Nor envy us this httle field." Around, untainted zephyrs blow ; And purling rills unfailing flow, And Earn's pure stream with gentle waves, Uceasingly thy border laves. The smiling herds that graze thy plain, Of drink or pasture ne'er complain ; The wintry food thy meadows yield, Secured ere Boreas beats the field ; Thy joyful, waving, yellow plains. Ne'er baulk the labour of the swains. O happy dome ! placed far remote From city broils and treason's plot ; The city smoke ne'er reach'd thy plain, Which suffocates the motley train ; Far from the crimes that rage unnamed, From which the day retires ashamed ; Far from the breezes fraught with death. Far from contagion's mortal breath ; Happy the swains who in thee live, Who read their Bibles and believe. Who worship God with heart and mind, And to his will are aye resigned ! This ode is not without merit. It is didactic in its character, and has several lines of much beauty and strength. It is a truthful song of the poet's home. The first stanza is full of historical remi- niscences. The second immortalizes those trees, which he afterwards honoured with a niche in " The Course of Time." The third stanza is a 80 LIFE OF POLLOK. tribute to the scenery surrounding Moorhouse, and to the flocks which pasture on the hills and dales. In the closing verse, there is a happy allusion to the superiority of rural life over the city. As a whole, the poet has shown not only good taste in the dis- tribution of the ode, but considerable poetical skill in its construction and execution. It has a classical likeness, and reminds the reader in several lines of Horace. In a word, it is a leaf of song which will never wither. At the close of the second session in April, he re- turned to Moorhouse, and spent again the summer vacation, but under different circumstances from that of the former one. Arrangements were made, by which he was exempted from all agricultural cares and employments. The consequence was, that he devoted his entire time to reading, writing, and meditation. Nor was it a small portion of it which he gave to reflection. Often he exclaimed, as he gazed upon the beautiful and variegated scenery around — that which God has created and preserved should be studied and admired by man. The great business, however, of the vacation, was to read those works which would enable him to en- ter the logic class in the fall, with advantage and interest. Nor was this an easy task, because the course was very comprehensive, including not only the ancient logic, all that is known about it prior to the days of Aristotle, down to the time of Bacon ; but also the modern logic and the belles-lettres. It was necessary for him to read the analytics of the Stagy- STUDIES THE POET?. ' 81 rite, and study the scholastic philosophy, which was a fantastic superstructure, erected on the ancient dialectics. This he was partially enabled to accom- plish, from his access to the University library. The student who enters the logic class a novice in the science, will feel himself a mere tyro, after the session closes. The prelections of the professor, while succinct and didactic, cannot be appreciated by one who has not anticipated the subject. But apart from the reading preparatory for the purely logic department, he entered on a critical examination of the English poets, with a view to the elucidation of the belles-lettres. From a note- book found among his papers, it appears that he had grappled in thought with Shakspeare, Milton, Pope, Johnson, Ossian, Beattie, and Burns. Instead of confining himself to the disquisitions of D'Alembert, Gerard, Blair, Campbell, Hume and others, he ap- proached and drank at the very head waters. He explored and surveyed for himself He no doubt plucked the fairest roses out of their garlands ; ex- tracted the crystalline dew-drops from their buds ; put his hand upon the pulsations of their divinest thoughts ; and unravelled, thread by thread, the silken fringes of their rich and graphic phrases. He must have taken prodigious liberties with these canonized bards ; nay, hazarded to look into the very laboratory of their being, as they felt and acted in the rapturous moments of their inspiration. His reading must have been like the acts of an alchemist. There were days during the summer which the 82 LIFE OF POLLOK. student gave to recreation and observation. One of his favourite haunts was Lochgoin, a place some four miles south of Moorhouse, and famous as a re- treat for the Covenanters, during the persecution from 1660 to 1688. The hill-top on which the farm-house stands, is green the greater part of the year, and commands an extensive prospect over the surrounding mosses. The present proprietor is of Huguenot ancestry ; the family has occupied it from father to son for several centuries. Thomas Howie, the tenant in Pollok's times, was the son of John Howie, the compiler of the " Scots' Worthies," a book second only in popularity in Scotland to Bun- yan's Pilgrim's Progress. In 1828, the writer of this biography visited Lochgoin in company with Dr. Dobson of Eaglesham. We were shown the drum and flag which were used by the friends of the Kirk, at " Bothwell Brig," with other sacred memorials of that epoch. The old observatory, formed of turf cut out of the moss, was yet in a good state of preser- vation. Peden, Cameron, and others, *' of whom the world was not worthy," often stood on it, and looked out for the stealthy approach of the foe. Twelve times during the twenty-eight years of blood, was Lochgoin searched for nonconformists, but in vain ; the God of the covenant anticipated the movements, and hid his holy ones until the storm had past. Dr. Dobson took the blue silk flag, ascended the antique, rude observatory, and waved it wide upon the sum- mer breeze. It called up in vivid array before us, the history of those bloody and eventful times. It LOCHGOIN. 83 was not apparently the worse of a hundred and fifty years of peace. It looked as if it had just been folded up after the disastrous battle. Nor shall I ever forget the magic inscription on it, in white let- ters, " Jehovah Tzid-kenue, the Lord our Righteous- ness." Has not the colour of this flag something to do with the adage — " True blue Presbyterianism ?" It is not strange that the poet should have loved to visit this lonely yet memorable place. The pros- pect from it is very extended, taking in much of the territory around, which has been consecrated and ennobled by the blood and sufferings of the heroic martyrs. It is near to the very battle-ground of Drumclog. There is also a large collection of pam- phlets and sermons, preserved in the family library, relating to the troubles in Scotland, Besides all this, there is a vast amount of traditionary story preserved- He who spends a day at Lochgoin, will come down to the valley, like one who has been holding communion with ancient times, and had a nearer approach to the covenant-keeping God. I remember with the distinctness of the present, that the memory of the author of " The Course of Time" was precious to the whole Howie family. The following poetical production is said to be Mr. Pollok's second effort at blank verse. It is en- titled— THE DISTRESSED CHRISTIAN TO HIS SOUL. My soul is ill at ease, my thoughts disorder, Tortured with pain, convulsed with doubt and passion. 84 LIFE OF rOl.LOK. As when against a hapless bark adrift Billows tremendous dash, and tempest rolls The fury of conflicting elements, Baffled in every plan, and stupified, The seaman's hardy soul sinks careless down, And heedless waits the ya\^ing desolation ; So, 'mid the evils which beset my soul, She flounces on, unheedful of her fate. And must I let her thus be tossed and scourged By the dread billows of this nether world 1 Is it like being immortal to be foiled, To be undone, by things ephemeral 1 It must not be. What ! is the contest vain ? A trifle the reward of victory 1 No, no, my soul ! life and eternal joy, A crown of glory, an unfading crown, Imparted from the grandeur infinite Of glory uncreated, will be thine, If in the path of duty thou abide. That God, who into being spoke the world, And still, with arm omnipotent, maintains The revolution vast of varied things, Hath sworn by his eternal Godhead high. That he who perseveres in righteousness, Who fights the fight of faith, and turns not back, Shall immortality and honour gain. Unseen, unheard, unthought-of happiness ! Bliss which Jehovah's goodness has prepared ! Rise, rise, my soul ; see yonder blest abode : Behold the beatific vision bright, And say how ill it fits thee e'er to fret, Or be dismayed, at time's most horrid frown. Put on the Christian armour, bravely fight The hosts of earth and hell ; fear not their strength, Power, wisdom infinite, are on thy side. The mighty arm that clave Arabia's gulf, Whelmed Egypt's guilty host infuriate, Uplifted, fights for thee. Away, away, Ye bugbears that surround my soul : earth, death, And hell, are foiled by Him in whom resides THE T^OGTC CLASS. 85 All strength; eternal victory is thine, Immortal life, and everlasting bliss ! This production is worthy of the Christian poet. The fundamental doctrines of the Gospel are brought clearly to view in it. The thoughts suggested are just such as the distressed Christian ought to medi- tate on. Nor is the poetical structure rude or in- artistic. It is true that it lacks the finish and flow of much of " The Course of Time," yet it contains the germs of well-constructed blank verse. The verbal critic might object to the use of the adjec- tives, " careless," and " heedless," instead of their ad- verbs ; but Milton's usage has established canons on this point, which render all such criticisms futile and nugatory. In November, 1819, he entered the logic class. In the prior parts of his University course, his mind had been strictly confined to Latin and Greek phi- lology. Now a new region of investigation courted his attention. One, too, of a highly philosophical character. It was nothing short of the considera- tion of the faculties of the mind and their relations to human language. The whole field of ancient and modern literature was necessarily explored, and the laws of ratiocination minutely analyzed. The syllogism was examined and expounded. Bacon, too, and his Organon, was brought to view ; and the superiority of Induction over the Syllogism for- cibly inculcated. The rhetoric department of the logic course, was one of intense interest to the poet. This was his 8 86 LIFE OF POLLOK. favourite field of thought ; and the one in which his vigorous imagination revelled and luxuriated. The large number of highly intelligent students which were members of the class that session, gave addi- tional and unusual interest to the exercises. It was there that the short-lived, yet gifted and learned William Friend Durant, shone so brilliantly, and earned such laurels. St. Ange Simeon, had private classes of French during that period, in the city. Mr. Pollok at- tended one of these daily for two months and made rapid progress in the acquisition of the lan- guage ; nay, distinguished himself exceedingly, not only in his facility at translation, but in the crit- ical knowledge of its structure and idiom. He was also a member of two debating societies, one of them being strictly confined to members of the logic class. Nor was this all that he sought to accom- plish during the session. He was a private student in that division of the Greek class, in which Profes- sor Young gave critical readings and criticisms of the Greek language. There was a note-book found among his manuscripts, in which he had entered many of the most valuable of the criticisms, and which had the following quaint and amusing title : " A few of the curiosities and nice discoveries of the won- derful man, even the man Professor Young ; for the session of 1819, 1820." The following letter was written to his cousin and early associate, Robert Pollok, about the mid- A LETTER. 87 die of the session. It is the first of his letters which has been preserved. " Glasgow, Dec. 15, 1819. *< My dear friend, " I received a parcel this morning from Mr. John Campbell, in which was a letter directed to yourself, which I hereby send you. " The streets of Glasgow are overlaid with ice : therefore if you intend to come to town before thaw, you had better have yourself frosted. " I would write you a long letter if Time, that hurrying chiel, would permit. But he seems to have got a new feather in his wing ; and, if I am not prepared to profess Greek against to- morrow at two o'clock ; if I am not prepared to be president in the Logic society, first Saturday, and orator in another, early next week ; and do not, in the interim, write many logical essays, and read much Latin and Greek — if I do not perform all these things before Thursday, next week, he says with his usual determination, that I must be left behind. I shall try, however, to lop off some of his extreme feathers ; and that, you know, can be done onl}?^ by exertion. *' If the weather be thus bitter cold, I am not sure if I may be at Moorhouse on the approaching holida3's. I hope, therefore, that you will gather all the news of that circle with which you are con- nected, and send them to me. " Write to me soon. Remember me kindly to all your friends and mine about you, and especially to my dear uncle your father. Accept my best respects, and believe me to be, yours inviolably, "R. POLLOK," At the close of the session in April, 1820, Mr. Pollok was awarded a prize by the vote of his fel- low-students, for eminent attainments in logic and rhetoric. Nor was it a small honour to receive such a tribute, where hundreds of accomplished scholars were competitors. He was indefatiga- ble in his studies ; wrote, during the session of six 88 LIFE OF POLLOK. months, twenty-four essays, which on an average extended to eight quarto pages : and read several elaborate works, among which were "Johnson's Lives of the Poets/' It does not appear that he ever entertained the idea that knowledge was attainable without perse- verance and untiring study. On the contrary, every act of his hfe shows that he was a devoted believer in the attainableness of literary treasures by mental effort. If every student of his day had gathered ideas with the same soHcitude, how much more glo- rious would the empire of thought now be. It is angel-like to go out by the ocean of knowledge, and gather up the golden pebbles of wisdom, which lie thick upon it, as stars in the milky way. CHAPTER III. " And further taught that in the soul alone, The thinking, reasonable, willing soul, God i)laced the total excellence of man ; And meant him evermore to seek it there." At the close of the Logic session, Mr. Pollok's health was slightly impaired. Nor is this surprising when we take into consideration the great thoughts which were struggling for a lodgment in his soul, and the efforts he was making to stand upon the high places of literature. The following letter which he wrote to his brother David a few weeks after his return to the home of his childhood, will give the best and truest por- traiture of his inward self at the time. " Moorhouse, June 13, 1821. "DfiAR Brother, " Accompanying this are a few lines " on anger." I would have sent you some more poetry which I have occasionally put together, but I have no paper. •' I have been studying hard this some time, for I found raiiibling idle did no good to my health. I have been considerably worse since the commencement of May. My spirits have been for the last two weeks unusually dull. The present state of my body and the influence which it has on my mind, renders my sleep short and precarious. My situation is, indeed, not agreeable. To be driving at literature without adequate assistance, is a hard task : but to be without adequate assistance and stimulating health, is harder still. 8* 90 LIFE OF POLLOK. When I look to the scholar's unprotected fate, and think that even at this season of the year, my health is rather retrograde, the prospect is indeed gloomy. I have not spoken of the state of my iiealth to any person here ; but the lowness of my spirits is no doubt visible- My constitution is yet strong, and far from being sickly. Dr. Reid, the last time I saw him, said there w^as no danger whatever ; and recommended residing a month or two on Arran, and taking occa- sional sails. The rarity of the air in that quarter, would probably have a good effect on the mind, and the sea bathing, which I never tried, might have an influence of some kind on the body. But to go there and be comfortable requires money, and you know that is not to be found. Were I even to get it here, I know so well their ina- bility to assist me, that every shilUng I spend tortures my soul. I do not write this to hurt your feelings, but it gives me some pleasure to communicate my own feelings to you ; and at the same time to have your advice in return, will afford me great satisfaction. " R. PoLLOK." He made a profession of religion some two weeks after the date of this letter, in the Secession church at Eaglesham, under the pastoral care of the Rev. James Dickson. There are no memorials extant, which throw any light on the reasons and motives that led him to perform this act of personal conse- cration. There can be little doubt, however, but that he had experienced a change of heart years prior, nor can any mortal unfold to us the workings of his mind during the intervening period. Every- thing from his pen is coloured with piety. It may be that the illness of which he writes to his brother, was more spiritual than physical. Experience abundantly proves that many a youth has been sick at heart, from a sense of his sins, whose malady has been mistaken, even by pious parents and friends. It is plain that God was fitting the young scholar for VISIT TO DUBLIN. 91 the proper study of philosophy ; and he was privi- leged in being permitted to join the sacramental host of the visible church, while deeply occupied with his literary course. Instead of taking an excursion to the island of Arran, as proposed in the preceding letter, he visited Dublin, and remained in and about that metropolis for two weeks. He was accompanied by his young friend Mr. Andrew Bryson, who, like himself, was called early away to the spirit world. He was decidedly benefited by his tour. Not only was his body braced, but his mind strengthened, and enabled to look over the gulf of despondency. In a few days after his return, he sent to a friend the follow- ing beautiful and highly- wrought epistle, as a speci- men of descriptive composition : — '' Moorkouse, August 18, 1820. " Dear friend, one moment quit the classic page, The modern theorist, and the ancient sage, With all the depths of philosophic lore, Through which your eye has long been taught to pore. A brighter theme, the muse devoid of fear. Presses upon your unaccustomed ear. The theme, Maria. — Who will not attend When all the muses unemployed descend 1 For when the virtuous fair our theme compose. The muses listen though we speak in prose, " My dear Friend, — Travelling lately in the West of Scotland, I called at the house of a young lady with whom I have had some little acquaintance since the year 1815. She is the daughter of a reputable farmer, and during the live years last, past, has been a successful scholar in the various branches of female education which render the sex more amiable and useful, without making 92 LIFE OF POLLOK. them vain and ostentatious Disgusted at the inurbaijity of man- ners which prevailed around her, this young lady, whom we shall call Maria, at an early age, aspired at a habit of Ufe which might render her more interesting to the polite and intelligent ; and what she aspired at she has attained. " As I have observed with delight this tender plant, growing up t» maturity in female accomplishments, amidst circumstances rather unfavourable — amidst circumstances which have retained many of Maria's equals, in point of birth, known only by ignorance and shameless rudeness, permit me to give you a short sketch of her character. Those ought to be interesting to all, who, by virtuous means, make themselves more amiable and more useful than the other members of that society to which they originally belonged. It WEis attention to those that civilized mankind ; and it is still by imi- tating those useful individuals, that society is carried from one de- gree of improvement to another. " Maria's form is handsome, and might measure something about middle size. Her hair is black, and sports in luxuriant ringlets on a forehead and neck of a polish and whiteness which arrest the eye of the most careless beholder. Her eyes are blue, and are met with ease and pleasure, always full of the goodness of her heart. Maria's colour is not high, nor is she fashionably pale : it is a colour pe- culiar to those who are neither exposed to the weather nor ingulfed in dissipation ; the whole air of her countenance is attractive and easy. Goodness will gaze on her with freedom and delight ; wickedness will withdraw its eye ashamed and reproved. Such is a faint de- scription of what must strike every one when Maria is the object of ocular contemplation. " But exterior accomplishments are not all Maria's endowments. Indeed, that which gives her countenance the most fascinating charm, is the effect of a mind animating every feature, without compulsion or restraint. Knowing well that modesty, and some degree of diffidence, are indispensable in those of the sex who would please, Maria is very different from that class of females who have spoken all their days without putting themselves to the trouble of thinking. When Maria speaks, all her hearers are attentive, be- cause she thinks before she speaks. Her manners are completely free from rudeness ; nor have they dwindled into mere ceremony. Her town's education has not had the baleful effect of making her, like too many, more accomplished and more stupid. She possesses the MARIA. 93 sensibility and guilelessness of the country maid, without her awk- wardness or ignorance ; and the refinement and activity of the town's lady, without her whimsicalness or deception. She pleases without showing too much anxiety to please : always cheerful, but never given to boisterous mirth ; because it is inconsistent with her delicacy of feeling. In a word, all her demeanour seems rather to be produced by Christian goodness than hammered on the anvil of fash- ion. Hers is that • sanctity of manners' which is the offspring of ' un- affected goodness.' Yes, religion has shed its benignant influences on her soul. Ik is here that she is irresistibly amiable. It is this, speaking in her countenance, which charms and animates the good; which abashes and reproves the bad. Maria's tongue is not bridled by the trammels of fashion, but by that piety which is not ' vain.' ' She openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindness.' "If heaven should ever bless Maria with a congenial partner of life, her heart will beat responsive to his every feeling : he will ' be known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.' Then will it be said of her, ' Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all,' for ' a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.' " You have, no doubt, noticed that, in this short sketch of Maria's character, I have not mentioned a single fault. Hear my reason : I have found none. You are not, however, to imagine from this, that I think her perfect, or that the description given of her is the hyperbolical ebullition of a blind passion. Unable to call myself by the tender name of her friend, I am only an acquaintance. A more intimate connection might discover some faults ; but no con- nection could reasonably discover faults which would not be lost almost sooner than seen, in that blaze of goodness, which pervades every part of her character. As the spots which are said to exist in the sun are lost in the bright effulgence of his beams ; so Maria's faults, if she have any, are completely hidden in the dispreading lux- uriance of her goodness ; and as the spots in the sun are no obstruc- tion to his cheering, vivifying, and day-making influences on the earth ; so Maria's faults can be no hindrance to her pleasing, ani- mating, and soul-brightening influences on those around her. " How delightful is it to see youth and beauty and goodness com- bined in the same female! What an irresistible power over man- kind have justice and religion, when enforced by so winning an 94 ^ LIFE OF POLLOK. admonisher ! Were there sufficient Marias in the world, what respect were due to the female character ! How much would the eternal interests of mankind be promoted ! How much more ra- tional and satisfactory were the pleasures pursued in the world! Then were Lemuel's description of a good wife applicable ; then were domestic jarring at an end; then might it be universally said, * He that findeth a wife, findeth a good thing.' " With what pleasure will the celestial blessed hover around Ma- ria's peaceful abode ; mark her strengthening every virtuous princi- ple, from the oracles of truth ; see her imbuing every youthful mind about her with the sanctity of her own ; and behold her bowing un- seen by the world, and pouring out her soul, in all the sweetness of the purest devotion, to her Creator and Redeemer ! With what satisfaction and delight will her guardian angel watch over every emotion of her soul ; guard her against every temptation ; and fill her mind, by heavenly commission, with the raptures felt above ! At every new conquest of her soul over the innate corruption of her heart; at every new development of virtue in her mind ; at the ter- mination of the duties of her every day, how will these watching spirits vie in holy ardour, with one another, to be the messengers of the happy tidings to the celestial courts! Nay, with what infi- nite delight will Jehovah, the creator of the ends of the earth, look down on this tender offspring of his hands ! With early piety — with the humble and contrite in heart, the Lord delights to dwell. " R. PoLLOK." There is a beauty in the style, plan and discussion of Maria's character, which is not surpassed by any- thing of the kind which we have seen in the whole range of English literature. Nor is it possible for any lady to read it, without feeling an irresistible im- pulse to conform herself to the high mental portrai- ture sketched. It is worthy of circulation in a tract form ; and is proper for the study of every school girl. Whether therefore we consider it a mere effort at good writing, or a picture of his heart's *' love," it is a peerless production. MORAL PHILOSOPHY CLASS. 95 Professor Jardine, of the Logic class, had an- nounced at the close of the session a subject to be written on, during the vacation, as a prize exercise. The poet became a competitor for it, and was suc- cessful. It was an " Essay on the External Senses, and the means of improving them." It is too long for insertion here, covering no less than one hundred and four quarto pages of manuscript. Besides this elaborate essay, he wrote several pieces of poetry ; read extensively, made extracts, and entered a regis- try of his thoughts on the various subjects, in a note- book, to the voluminous expansion of forty closely written octavo pages. Nor was this all — he appears also to have made large preparation for the Moral Philosophy Class, the next in order in the Univer- sity curriculum. The Moral Philosophy class is considered in Scot- land the most important in the literary course. It is, in it, that the great doctrines concerning the Senses, Ideas, Reason, Instinct, Conception, Mem- ory, Belief, Necessity, the Will, the Passions, Affec- tions, Immateriality and Immortality of the Soul, Causes of Error, Virtue, Providence, Motives and Duty are succinctly discussed. The various theo- ries about the mind which have been held in an- cient and modern times are all considered. The doctrines of Kant, Helvetius, Malbranche, Priestley, Hutchison, Hume, Reid, Stewart, Brown and others, are all scrutinized and compared. The exquisite ability, too, with which Professor Mylne elucidated and explored the whole vast field of metaphysics 96 LIFE OF POLLOK. and ethics, gave additional charms to the course. He was a powerful metaphysician, and possessed uncommon powers of analysis. Many of his views were new and original. " The analysis of the Phe- nomena of the Human Mind," published in London in 1829, by James Mill, Esqr., the author of the His- tory of British India, contains many of his peculiar doctrines in metaphysics. Professor Ferrie, of Bel- fast College, has also carried out many of them in his lectures to his classes, with great ability. Nor is Moral Philosophy a less engrossing subject now in the Universities of Scotland. Abercrombie, Wil- son, Dewer, Chalmers and Hamilton, have been worthy to wear the mantle of their predecessors. The poet entered this class in November, 1820, with his mind well furnished for its duties. He was deeply enamoured, from the first lecture, with the professor and the science. He remarked to his brother David on one occasion, " Till I heard Mr. Mylne lecture, I never thought of calling in question the opinion of an author. If it differed from mine, I thought it must be right, and my own wrong. But in Mr. Mylne's class I was set free, forever, from the trammels of book authority ; I lost all deference to authors, and opinions, and names ; and learned not only to think and decide for myself, but to test severely my own opinions." Besides a daily lecture there were examinations in it, and a weekly essay required from every student. Mr. Pollok not only discharged assiduously the whole prescribed duties, but also wrote a large number of voluntary essays, DEATH OF YOUNG. 97 which he. submitted to the professor. During the session he furnished essays sufficient to constitute a large vokime ; two of them were in verse ; and at the close of it was awarded a prize, by the vote of the class. One of the successful candidates for prizes was Mr. Durant, of whom I have already spoken ; and whose memoirs were republished in this country in 1S23. The poet had entered himself again a private student, at the commencement of the session in the Greek class ; and wrote in competition for a prize, a translation in verse of the first chorus of Sopho- cles ; but the professor was called suddenly away, to give an account of himself to the Judge of all the earth. He went into his bath, and was found a few minutes afterwards by his servant, in a sitting pos- ture, but defunct. The death of Professor Young left a vacuum in Greek literature in the kingdom. Great as the fame was of Sir Daniel Kite Sanford, his successor, it never echpsed or overshadowed the memory of Young. Sir Daniel too is with the dead. It would be doing immense injustice to the mighty dead, if I were to overlook in this connection the influence which the preachers in the city of Glas- gow exerted at that time over the expanding mind of Pollok. Chalmers was then in the flood tide of his popularity. His Astronomical sermons were rolling like a river of fire and glory through the kingdom. His Christian Economics was just pub- lished, and producing immense excitement among 9 98 LIFE OF POLLOK. all circles of society. Malthus, Riccardo and Ham- ilton, had done much in this department ; but he looked at the subject in the light of the Gospel, and spoke with the authority of a prophet. Irving had just appeared, and was stirring up the masses with his wonderful oratory. He seemed alone in his manner and matter. Like the angels who make pastime with thunderbolts, so he played in the pulpit with philosophy and Hterature ; and preached and prayed evermore as one who had a great commission from the heaven of heavens to guilty men. I speak not of Ewing, Wardlaw, Brown, Welsh, Dick and others, whose minds enlightened that epoch. It is enough to bring forward the fact, that it was the privilege of the author of " The Course of Time" to hear and see those master spirits. I insert one of the voluntary essays which he presented this session. It exhibits the progress of his knowledge as well as of his improvement in ver- sification. A TALE ILLUSTRATING THE UNITY OF JUSTICE AND BENEVOLENCE. In ancient days when great Augustus reigned, And o'er the world his peaceful sway maintained ; Beneath fair Hybla's brow, in Note's vale, Where thymy fragrance breathes on every gale ; Where fairest flowers their sweetest juice disclose, And every streamlet rich with honey flows ; Unknown to tumult, hurry, care or strife, The wealthy Dargoi led an easy life. OLD DARGOL. 99 No wife, no child had ever called him dear ; He felt no raptures, and he knew no fear. Luxurious dainties pressed his sumptuous board, And ready servants wait their lonely lord. Deep hoarded stores his coffers safely kept ; In vain to ope them starving orphans wept. Yet he was just, as justice he defined ; He brake no law great Caesar had enjoined. With all his dainties, all his hoarded wealth, Man vainly hopes to bribe the stay of health. The hour drew on, when struggling with his breath, Old Dargol felt the fast approach of death. Then high the air his ardent prayer bore, A voice adoring, heaven ne'er heard before. Convincing death ! in thy appalling hour. Sceptics believe and scoffers own thy power, " Hear Jove !" he prayed, " hear gracious Jove! my cry : I lived in justice — let me happy die ! Send forth thy messenger, all righteous God, And guide my soul to some joy-girt abode," Almighty thunders volleyed from above, And earth, all quivering, feared the wrath of Jove. When lo! on Dargol's starry glimmering sight. The parting heavens gush forth immortal light. Two heavenly forms in silvery white array. Descend majestic in the blaze of day ; Linked hand in hand the graceful figures came : The husband one, and one his lovely dame. Severe his looks and yet severely mild ; For on his face his consort never smiled ; Deep penetration issues from his eyes, That all imposture all pretext defies. A starry sword his golden baldric stayed, All-weighing scales his dexter hand displayed. High on his breast in living gold made known. His awful name, Eternal Justice, shone. 100 LIFE OF POLLOK. AU-lovely form ! to man how matchless fair ! Love, pity, mercy, marked his consort's air ; O'er all the earth her clement glances run, And scatter blessings like the blessing sun. Her air, her attitude, her looks, confess Herself unblest, while one her hand might bless. On her fair form great Justice ever smiled, Restrained her hand, or marked the worthy child. Her graceful arm sustained a fruitful vine : •' Come, child of sorrow !" bhssful letters, shine. No name she bore, denied to earthly fame ; But, who could doubt 1 Benevolence was her name. The pair approached ; earth smiled with their array, That blazed on Dargol more than mortal day. He viewed the forms — no fear his bosom felt; There, all-sufficient, fancied Justice dwelt. And thus he said : " Ye blest celestial pair, Come ye to lead me from the realms of card To waft my soul to some joy -girt abode. Prepared for virtue by the righteous God 1 I have deserved ; in early virtue schooled, Unbending justice all my actions ruled." " Presumption, cease !" stern Justice now began, While heavenly wrath o'er all his visage ran ; " How dar'st thou proudly in our presence stand. And ask our guidance to the heavenly land 1 Foul with injustice, dread our heavenly ire, And dread the waves of ever-boiling lire." The lovely queen now smiled with pitying grace. And awful Justice cleared his frowning face ; So the dear child, when frowns its sire array, Smiles in his face, and all his wrath's away. Undaunted yet, the prideful Dargol gazed. While from his eyes revengeful anger blazed. And thus replied : " Why namest thou me unjust 1 Have e'er I stolen, or e'er betrayed my trust 1 Lives there on earth who can of Dargol say, ' He used my goods, but did not quickly pay V OLD DARGOL. 101 Did e'er the sun from yonder west retire, Before my hand discharged the workman's hire 7. What court can say 1 once proposed a cause, A cause unjustified by Caesar's laws V *■ Man, self-deceived !" the awful form replies, And on his consort turns his peaceful eyes ; <* 'Gainst her, old Dargol, thy offence is great, And who offends her justifies my hate. Know then, unjust, know and repent thy crime. While mercy stays thee on the brink of time ; Ere yonder globe of heaven-enkindled flame Gazed on the earth, or warmed the starry frame ; Ere labouring chaos heard the plastic word. Or infant icorlds smiled homage to their Lord; Ere praise create swelled round the Eternal throne. Or burning seraph's dazzling glory shone ; With me united in eternal tie. Dwelt fair Benevolence, fairest of the sky ; In soul, in heart, in every act the same, Though two in form, and separate in name. Who frowns on her my awful sword must know. Or tears repentant stay the righteous blow. Ah ! trembling Dargol, hoary in thy guilt. Thy stony heart, benevolence never felt. The orphan wept, the widowed mother moaned ; The maimed, diseased, the hoary helpless, groaned. In vain they groan, the tears unheeded flow; Thy lonely heart ne'er felt a brother's woe ; Thy careless hand ne'er dried the orphan's tears, Soothed weary age, or stilled the widows fears. The fainting traveller saw thy splendid dome : He came in hope, but found no traveller's home. His feeble step stole from thy graceless door, W^ith disappointment, feebler than before. Damp, plagueful night, his glimmering soul suppress'd, He breathes his Ufe, a life thou shouldst have blest. " A virtuous female sighed, a lonely hfe, Designed for thee, a happy smiling wife ; 9* 102 LIFE OF POLLOK. But mailed in self 'gainst every kindred sigh, Thou leftst the lovely weeping maid to die. Hark ! — on the troubled blast, her lonely moan Still swells with woe, and bids thy life atone. " Mark, by yon hut, sad on the smiUng plain, All lone in grief, a hoary, virtuous swain. To thee well known was his unhappy son ; His wants well known, his matchless worth begun. Ah ! most unjust, how could thy hand forbear To Uft young genius struggling with despair ! Severe he struggled, poor, without a friend, To vanquish nature and attain his end. Alas ! from toils unaided, ceaseless, great. Disease, pale withering, gathered round his fate. His parents saw him wasting down to death ; Poor, helpless, saw him yield his youthful breath. An only son! Ah, how severe the blow ! In death the mother sought repose from woe. The hoary sire, amid the smiling clime. Like paly stalks that mourn in summer-time. Bows down in grief, and weeps the night and day, Obtesting heaven to let his soul away. " Ah, wicked Dargol, heaven thy justice knows ! From thy injustice sprang this tide of woes. The youth — his worth, his wants to thee were plain, 'Twas thine to cherish with thy hoarded gain. Heaven gave thee much, that much thy hand might give To succour worth, and needy souls relieve : The blasted youth, his parents' woful fate, His country's wrong, prove thy injustice great. " Nor this alone ; the slanderer, unreproved, Blasted the virtuous and was more beloved. Even thy own tongue spread the defaming cry, And worthy men in slander more than die ; Thy trembling household ne'er enjoyed thy smile — The just reward, when faithful mortals toil. O'er-laboured, too, beneath thy cruel reign, The trusty brute writhed in untimely pain ; OLD DARGOL. 103 Thy soul reluctant Cresar's tribute paid ; Thy hand compelled, thy heart still disobeyed ; And what to law reludanUy is given, Is given in vain before the eye of heaven. Ah ! in thy breast the awful voice of God, Loudly condemned each swerve from justice' road. This, wicked Dargol, this is all thy sin ; Unheeded spoke the warning voice within. Dargol ! foul with these wrongs to her — to me, Hop'st thou acquittal at my bar to see 1" Great Justice ceased : old Dargol speechless fell, Convinced of guilt — his anguish who can telH Before the heavenly pair his sorrows flow ; His tears, his groans, confess repentant woe. Remorseful throes convulse his ancient frame ; His face adheres to earth with conscious shame. As when the flames, driven through the wasted brake, With sudden fury, wake the careless snake, Convulsed a moment ere its life expires. It writhes, it tosses in the dreadful fires ; So writhed old Dargol, struggling in his grief. But heaven designed his anguished soul relief Benevolence wept ; immortal Pity sighs, " No wretch repentant in my presence dies." She raised the wight, composed his troubled soul, And thus her words in heavenly sweetness roll : " Thy Ufe's prolonged : go, man, unhoard thy store ; The wretched comfort, and thy God adore. Obey the law graven on thy heart alone — The law which tries thee at the Eternal throne." The blessed accents cease, and high in air, In Godlike motion, soar the faithful pair; The starry dwellers hymn them as they fly, Till heaven receives them, veiled from mortal eye ; Heaven heard their words, " A mortal turned to love," And joy superior filled the courts above. 104 LIFE OF POLLOK. The harp of our youthful bard was struck in this effusion, for the good of man. He did not simply write for poetic fame ; but for the promotion of be- nevolence and mercy. This, too, is the more re- markable, when we reflect on the misanthropic and romantic character of the popular minstrelsy of that day. CHAPTER IV. " And being ill " At ease, for gods they chose them stocks and stones, Reptiles and weeds, and beasts and creeping things, And spirits accursed — ten thousand deities ! And bowing, worshipped these as best beseemed, With midnight revelry, obscene and loud, With dark, infernal, devilish ceremonies, And horrid sacrifice of human flesh, That made the fair heavens blush!" *' The Eaglesham Association for Religious Pur- poses" was instituted in January, 1821. The poet was elected to deliver an address before it on the duty of sending the Gospel to the Heathen ; which appointment he accepted ; and delivered the follow- ing oration in the Secession Church, with universal acceptance to the auditory, some two weeks after the close of the session at college. It is the first speech which he delivered in public, and is given verhatim from his manuscript. " Mr. President, — With pleasure I take this opportunity of ex- pressing my approbation of tlie spirit, order, and energy which have formed and conducted your Society ; and I would especially con- gratulate you, with all the other members of the Society, for the noble purpose of your exertions. Had you been only endeavouring to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or shed one ray of comfort on the dreary inhabitant of the dungeon, who would not have ap- plauded the humanity and righteousness of your motive 1 But when I know that your design is to clothe the spiritually naked, to 106 LIFE OF rOLLOK. emancipate the slaves of the devil, to salute with the voice of mercy those who are rushing heedlessly on in the disastrous mazes and noisome damps of spiritual night, and to persuade them into that bright path whose issue is everlasting life ; may I not ask Who would not hasten to be one of your number ? — and, indeed, the strong attachment to knowledge, truth and religion, and the strong aversion to ignorance, error and superstition, which prevail among the enlightsned in your vicinity, have already rendered the list of your subscribers very respectable. To you and to them, Mr. Pres- ident, I would beg leave to sajj-, Ye shall not miss your reward. To the good man, the consciousness of having designed good, is a great reward ; but the accomplishment of his design is a greater. Your infant Society has, perhaps, not yet seen nor heard of its fruits, and been glad ; but as it is beginning to co-operate with those which have been abundantly blessed in plucking so many brands out of the burning, what may you not expect 1 I know that you and the other members of this Society have no greater joy than to hear, that, by the blessing of God on the exertions of British Chris- tians, thousands have been liberated from the iinbruting fetters of ignorance and superstition, lifted up from vile prostration to deaf and dumb idols, and taught the honourable worship of the living God. You need not be informed, nor I trust any in your Society, how rapid of late has been the flight, and how wide the conquests of that angel which flies in the midst of heaven, having the everlast- ing Gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people ; and how widely he is proclaiming, with a loud voice, ' Fear God and give glory to him, for the hour of his judgment is come : and worship him who made heaven and earth, and the sea, and the fountains of waters.' To what I have said I know you are prepared to give full credit, and to the uninformed and unbelieving, let existing facts bear witness. Let them Usten through the medium of the most authentic commu- nications, some of which have been sealed with blood, to praises of Messiah, which are now heard here and there, from the rising to the setting sun. Let them behold, and it is a pleasing sight, the shivering Greenlander, whose mind for many past ages, like his wintry seas, has been frozen and benumbed by the cold breath of ignorance, and shrouded in darkness, now illuminated, melted, in~ vigorated, and fructified by the all-enlivening beams of ' the Sun of Righteousness.' Let them behold many a thirsty African, in the I\IISSIONARY ADDRESS. 107 midst of his burning deserts, drinking of the immortal waters of the river of hfe, and eating of the fruit of that tree, ' whose leaves are for the heaUng of the nations.' Let them turn their minds to the banks of the Indus and the Ganges, and hear the howhngs of the beasts of prey, and the battle shout of warring savages, broken here and there by the sweet warbUngs of Immanuel's praise. Let them see the simple Hindoos, casting their deaf and dumb ' idols to the moles and to the bats,' and flying Hke doves to the windows of salvation. Let them hear with gratitude and delight, the hallelu- jahs of Euxine's shores respond to the hosannas of the Caspian ; while the immortal standard of the Cross waves the ensigns of peace on Caucasus's lofty brow. Let them behold the Persian, instead of travelling to Mecca, offering up to the Creator and Re- deemer the incense of a broken spirit and a pure heart. Nor have America's isles of slavery been altogether barren of ' the fruits of righteousness.' Although there hand has joined in hand to darken the glooms of ignorance, strengthen the shackles of slavery, and widen the waste places of death ; yet, even there, may be seen im- mortal souls eluding the grasp of oppression ; escaping the thick clouds of meditated ignorance ; and, in the Chariot of Salvation, triumphing away to the City of eternal refuge. No one needs to be told, that only a few years ago, throughout all these nations and people, not one beam of celestial day broke into the horrid gloom of their spiritual night ; not one of their songs of praise saluted the ear of Zion's King. By the blessing of God on the exertions of Bible and Missionary Societies, ' The wilderness and the solitary place are glad ; the desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose ; the glory of Lebanon is given unto it ; the excellency of Carmcl and Sharon: They see the glory of the Lord, and the excellency of our God. The inhabitants of the rock sing, they shout from the top of the mountains. They give glory unto the Lord, and declare his praise in the islands.' Let these things bear witness that the word of the Lord is, indeed, not returning ' to him void ;' and that he is not calling men in vain, to go up with him to battle. " But were I to say, that the present contemplation of the victo- rious march of truth in the lands of ignorance was all the reward which awaits the Christian's exertions, I would be speaking apart from the words of inspiration. When this world, with all its enjoy- ments, has passed away, when gold cannot purchase one luxurious dish to the voluptuary, nor one moment's repose to the careless, nor 108 LIFE OF POLLOK. one grim smilo to the earth-grasping miser, then shall the exertions of the Christian receive their full reward. When that Christian, who has been the means of spiritually enlightening the mind of a fellow-creature, has ' put on immortality,' when he is reposing him- self on the ever-verdant banks of the river of \ik, then from him shall be heard a louder note of prcuse, swelling the eternal hosannas of heaven. How much will it add to his endless bliss to shake hands, in the regions of immortality, with some once inhabitant of the desert, whom he has been permitted, by his benefactions, to be the means of elevating from the wastes of darkness, suffering and death, and of placing amid the brightness of immortal day, and the felici- ties of eternal life. His services have been greater, and his reward shall be proportioned to his services. ' The liberal soul shall be made fat ; and he that watereth shall be watered also himself * The wise,' or the teachers, ' shall shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they that turn,' or are instrumental in turning, ' many to righteousness, as the stars forever and ever.' Verily, all who serve Christ shall find that his ' reward is with him.' " But after all this; after all the good which is produced on man- kind, and all the glory which redounds to God, by the exertions of Christians, in undeceiving the nations, many refuse to cast a single mite into the treasury of Christ. The man who acts in this manner, must be extremely indolent, if he can give no reason for his conduct. Of those who are in this assembly, if there are any, who have it in their power to join your Society, and yet join it not, I would beg leave to ask how they justify their conduct. Is it said by some, ' We are, indeed, willing to " lend unto the Lord," but we have re- ceived so sparingly of the fovours of fortune, that we have nothing to give V If this apology have truth for its foundation, they who make it are more than excusable. He with whom they have to do, takes the will for the deed ; and they shall not miss their reward. But how few can with sincerity plead this excuse 1 A little atten- tion to economy would enable almost the poorest to contribute, less or more, to the funds of knowledge. Let them not imagine, that the Searcher of hearts will reject or overlook the smailness of the gift. He measures not the love and gratitude of his creature by the largeness of the sum bestowed, but by the willingness of the heart. In the eyes of Jesus Christ, ' the two mites' of the ' poor widow' were more precious than all the lordly sums of the rich, " Others may be heard saying, ' We satisfy all the demands of MISSIONARY ADDRESS. lOft the civil law : the hire of the workman never abides in our pocket ; we give good weight and good measure, and we " owe no man any thing;'" and compHmenting themselves, continue they, — ' it were well for the world, if all men acted after the same manner.' " Such men 1 would wish very much to undeceive. I do not hesitate to say, that it is not true that the man who possesses abun- dance, and at the same time is charitable only according to civil law, ' owes no man any thing.' Whoever does less good than his circumstances justify, sins against his fellow-creatures, and is really their debtor. Much has been given him, that he may give much to succour the fatherless and widow, and to administer the bread of life to the hungry soul. Every poor man whom he sends empty from his door, and every benighted soul, which he might have been the means of illuminating, will witness against him at that bar whence there is no appeal. " But, if the uncompassionate rich man still persist in saying — and what man can hinder him ?— that he owes his fellow-creatures nothing; shall he persist in saying that he owes nothing to his Godi ' Cast thy bread upon the waters,- says the High One ; ' for thou shall find it after many days.' ' No,' replies the uncompassionate, '■ I will do what civil law coaapels me ; but I will not cast one handful to the gleaner.' And because the sword of Justice slum- bers, he triumphs in the rectitude of his answer. But let him be- ware, lest it be said concerning him, ' Let the tares grow until the harvest ;' and then shall the Lord of all things ask the unmerciful man, ' Where is the increase of my talents 7 What hadst thou, that thou didst not receive of me 1 Freely thou receivedst, freely thou shouldst have given. Thou hast shown no mercy, and dost thou expect mercy for thyself? Bind him, and cast him into prison. Verily, he shall not come out thence, till he has paid the uttermost farthing.' " With all these strong arguments against them, with the Lord of Hosts against them, shall there still some be found, who not only ' withhold more than is meet,' but still claim to themselves the epi- thets of just, good, humane, and the like, and would frown indig- nantly were you to tell them that they have no right to the appella- tions 1 I am sorry that any of my fellow-creatures are unworthy to be called ji|^t and compassionate ; and I am unwilling to stigma- tize any with the name of wickedness. But let not Christians be imposed upon. ' The vile person' ought not to be ' called liberal,' 10 110 LIFE OF POLLOK. nor the 'churl bountiful.' Whatever the characters to which we have been alluding may think or say of themselves, they deserve and ought to be called, unjust, unsympathizing, haters of God and mankind, lovers of ignorance, superstition and death. " Many who unrighteously withhold the succours of the destitute, and who pretend to shelter themselves under the propriety of their conduct, would find the genuine reason for their manner of acting, in their own strong propensities to the pleasures of sense. Like the man of old, who could not come up to the feast, because he had ' married a wife,' they had much better say the truth, that they can contrib- ute nothing for the good of their fellow-creatures, or the glory of God, because it requires all they can spare, to satisfy the cravings of their lawless passions. This, I admit, may seem a very potent excuse in the eyes of him who makes it. Appetites and passions are powerful pleaders. But he who prefers their plea to his who is perishing for want of the bread of life, possesses a spirit at the same time mean and cruel. He is endeavouring to destroy others, that he may destroy himself He cares not how much he lav- ish on those who vegetate, luxuriate, and rot in their own moral turpitude, if he can but drink a little of their delicious poison. With what eyes will the pure hosts of heaven look down on the poor wretch 1 He will give nothing that he may conduct a soul up to heaven : but he v/ill give abundance, that his own may be driven down to hell. Surely ' Nabal is his name, and folly is with him.' " Another class of those, who cannot see it their duty to cast away money among the heathen, would find, were they to inquire, the true reason for this sight of their duty, in their unwillingness to part with money at all. The miser, or the man whose ruling pas- sion is the love of gold, will always find some reason with which he will pretend to justify the gratification of his favourite propen- sity. Such a being is generally heard saying, ' Had that poor man been industrious, he need have been asking alms from no one. To that other poor wretch it were vain to give any thing, for he squan- ders it away in criminal enjoyments. Something might be given for the benefit of the heathen, but that something wovild have to pass through so many hands, that really I am afraid it would never reach them. The world is so villanous now-a-days, who can be trusted V With such sophistries as these, the lover of gold labouts to deceive himself and the world. But the plain truth is, he is a worshipper MISSIOXARY ADDRESS. Ill of Mammon, and cannot be a worshipper of God. He cannot fol- low Christ, because he loves large possessions. " With such a being as this, it is almost in vain to argue. So thickly is he enveloped in darkness, that he has mistaken this world fjr his everlasting abode. Should you tell him that the most indus- trious and virtuous are sometimes baffled by fortune, and thrown over on the sympathies of charity ; should you picture to him the tears of the widowed mother, and the wailings of the naked orphan ; should you insist that he ought candidly to consider the combination of unhappy circumstances, which has led the wretched votary of guilt down to his present degradation — should you represent the seeds of virtue still living in his breast, the throes of remorse which sometimes agonize his soul, and the Avistful look which he casts back on virtue, bewaihngthe hour that seduced him from her happy path, and tell him, that w^ere he candid!}' to consider these things, that then, instead of saluting the guilt-blotted wretch with reproaches, or turning away in proud contempt, he woulil see it his duty to stoop down in mercy, to instruct, comfort, relieve ; should you assure liim that men of most stubborn honesty and tried fidelity, have the management of the funds designed for the benefit of the heathen ; his answer would still be. ' There is, indeed, much distress and much ignorance; but then impostures are so numerous, and, in fact, the v/orld has been so active in accomphshing its own wretchedness, that really it deserves no help.' From a being of this kind, I would gladly turn away my eyes : he is the greatest disgrace to humanity, and the most inveterate enemy to the Spirit of Christianity. It were Vv^ell would he consider who is his enemy. He who loves not his breth- ren of mankind, has his Maker for his enemy. He that is not merci- ful, how shall he obtain mercy ? His gold and his silver shall not be able to deliver him in the day of the Lord's wrath. But why should we argue with him 1 He has 'joined himself to idols, let him alone.' Vou need not be concerned, Mr. President, about the want of his as- sistance. Let him bow down to his cankered heaps, and aggrandize them ' for the last days.' Without his aid your enterprise shall be successful. He is on your side who calls all worlds, and all their fulness his own. " I can scarcely believe that any GaUios hear me — any who never inquire into their duty, and therefore suppose they never violate it. It would be easy, I think, to convince such persons, that he who continues to live willingly ignorant of his duty, continues willingly 112 LIFE OF POLLOK. to violate his duty. But I beg leave only to request that all such persons would devote one hour, and the hour would not be lost, to the contemplation of the worth of an immortal soul. And it would, perhaps, not be unprofitable for them to recollect at the same time, that there will be no unconcerned spectators at the day of judgment. ' He that is not with me,' says Christ, ' is against me.' '■ Are there some, again, who say, ' Why so much concern about Christianizing the heathen 1 The Lord will hasten it in his time. We pray daily that Christ's kingdom may come, and that is suf- ficient. We leave the rest to him " who worketh, and none can let it." ' The fallacy and selfishness of this reasoning are extremely palpable. The Lord will, indeed, hasten the time when men ' shall fear his name from the west, and his glory from the ris- ing of the sun.' It is truly he who ' worketh,' and none shall ' let it.' But he worketh by his servants, and his servants must be sup- ported. It is by ' many' running ' to and fro,' that ' knowledge is increased ;' and it is by the blessing of God on the contributions of Christians, that 'many' are enabled to 'run to and fro.' It is very right that all should pray for the enlightening of the nations. But can a man consistently pray that Christ's kingdom may come, and yet say in his heart at the same time, ' I would not give one farthing for its advancement. Let the heathen be converted, but let none of the expenses come on me V The Christian, if Christian he can be called, who acts thus, resembles very much the physician who should fall down on his knees, and pray that this or that medi- cine might be blessed for the recovery of his patient, while he dili- gently withheld from the patient the medicine itself. Would any person believe that the physician who acted in this manner was in earnest 1 And who shall believe that man to be in earnest who has it in his power, and yet contents himself with praying, if praying it can be called, for the advancement of Christ's kingdom 1 May he not expect this reception from the Father of spirits — ' Go first feed the hungry, and clothe the naked, and then bring thy gift to the altar V That Chiist will provide the means for increasing the num- ber of his worshippers is true. But will not the wealthy man, who does no more than wish the Gospel well, be likely to meet the fate of Meroz 1 Barak discomfited Sisera, and all his chariots and all his host; yet says the angel of the Lord, ' Curse ye Meroz. curse ye bitterly the inhabitants thereof, because they came not to the help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the mighty.' MISSIONARY ADDRESS. 113 " I hope there are few in your vicinity who firmly oppose them- selves to the designs of your Society; few who maintain, that the heathen are beings of an inferior order to us, and therefore deserve not our serious attention. Proud mortals ! might we not ask, Has not the most ignorant savage an immortal soul 1 and is not the happiness or misery of that soul to be measured by Eternity 1 If he is inferior to the proudest of Europe's sons, it is only because his means of improvement have been inferior. The savage is ignoranti because he has not the means of acquiring knowledge ; and on this account is he less deserving of our sympathy 1 Is it not in fact, because he is ignorant and imbruted, that he requires our illuminating aid 1 ' They that are whole need not a physician. Whoever opposes him- self to the civilization of the heathen, must be destitute of divine love. Did Christ leave the glory of his Father's right hand, and expose himself to the wrath of God that he might save his equals 1 or did he not rather do all this, that he might save the rebels to his gov- ernment, the worms of his footstool I And shall the proudest of the sons of earth think his fellow-worm beneath his notice '? Those who talk of the worthlessness of the heathen, are generally among that filthy number who are afraid lest the slavery of mankind cease* They know very well, that were all the tribes of earth brought ' to the knowledge of the truth,' they would soon be stronger than their taskmasters, and fling from them the disgi'aceful bands of slavery. But let oppressors do their utmost : they shall never be able to coun- teract 5'our designs. He who fights for you is stronger than they who fight against you. The wicked may ' take counsel together against the Lord, and against his Anointed j' but ' He that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh: the Lord shall have them in derision,' And what shall they do when the Lord of Hosts takes up ' the weapons of his indignation' and 'mustereth the hosts of the battle. Verily, the sable African shall not always be a prey : he shall yet ' rule over his oppressors ;' for the Lord ' shall give to his Son the heathen for his inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for his possession.' Some may be ready to conclude, that, if the accounts which they hear of the prosperous advance of the Gospel in the lands of dark- ness be true, sufficient has been already done for the good of the heathen. A little inquiry, however, would prevent every one from drawing this conclusion. The angel on the white horse is, indeed, making rapid conquests ; but much remains vet to be subdued. I 10* 114 LIFE OF POLLOK. will not take up your time in recounting to you the numerous na- tions that are, at this moment, ' without God and without hope in the world ;' and the millions of their inhabitants that debase huinan nature, by the endless absurdities of their superstitions, and the wild cruelty of their sacrifices. These are facts of which few are ignorant. We are glad to have it to say, that much has been con- tributed for the benefit of the heathen ; and that much good these contributions have done. But as it is observed by a writer in the Christian Monitor, ' The translation of the Bible into the various languages of mankind, and giving them a circulation corresponding to the wants of the destitute ; the preparation of Missionaries for their interesting work, sending them to scenes of active operation, and maintaining them in their destinations, not only when acquiring the languages they are afterwards to use, but while informing the minds of those whom they address, inspiring them with Christian tempers, and convincing them that the Gospel labourer '• is worthy of his hire," require an extent of funds, which the inconsidei'ate are unable to calculate, and the parsim.onious unwilling to advance. Now, unless funds sutficient for this purpose are advanced, much of what has been done must be rendered ineffectual. The glim- merings of day, which have penetrated the realms of darkness, will be driven back. In the world, the territories of the devil are yet much wider than the dominions of the Messiah ; ajid shall the Christian, the soldier of Jesus Christ, desert his Master in the midst of the battle 1 shall he not rather press onward that he may rejoice in the triumph of the victory 1 " Before I conclude, Mr. President, I would request this audience to take a serious view of the poor savage, half-fed, half-clothed, wan- dering in some dreary forest, amid toil and hazard, to gather from among the beasts of the field, a precarious and scanty fare. Mark him again ; in the darkness of midnight take his dagger in his hand, leave his home, and, full of revenge for some real or supposed in- jury, burst into the hovel of his slumbering neighbour, and, without ever awakening him, plunge the dagger into his breast, while the screaming of women and children only hastens the murderous wea- pon into their own hearts. Observe the bloody wretch cast an eye of grim dehght over the mangled remains of his fellow-mortals, and then return to his home exulting in the horrid deed. Behold him, now holding his hands above his head, till they are withered away, or measuring with his body the length of many leagues ; or wrest- MISSIONARY ADDRESS. 115 ing his own child from the breast of the trembhng mother, and cast- ing it into the merciless flames, to appease the wrath of some im- aginary, malignant deity. See him at last, taken by enemies no less cruel than himself, and thrown into dark loathsomeness, where his flesh is cut away, piece by piece, or agonized with the mortal bite of remorseless serpents. Or see his enemies, impatient for his inmost blood, and wishing to please the god who, they suppose, has delivered him into their hands, cast him alive into the burning pile. See him tossing and writhing in the deathful fires. Hear him call- ing on stocks and stones to come and save him ; or mark him, with stubborn endurance braving his fate, or shuddering in the very last gasp, lest he should fall into the hands of some cruel being which will rejoice in making him eternally wretched. And what mind would venture to follow him further 1 'Where there is no vision the people perish.' " Let no one imagine all this is a fable. I am not willing to rep- resent misery more miserable than it is. Such, or similar events, really fill up the life of thousands of our fellow-creatures. And shall a man still retain the name of Christian, and yet look on all this with indifference 1 " Were I but to hint to the females in this assembly, how wretched a life the female savage endures — were I to tell them that she is liter- ally the slave of her stupid lord — that, subjected to continued drudg- ery, without ever enjoying his approving smile, she toils out a life of unmingled bitterness — that when she has laboriously prepared a re- past for her sluggish master, however keen her appetite, she must wait till he has fully satisfied himself, and then seem well pleased with the morsel which he condescends to leave — and that if she happen, in the slightest degree, to offend against his caprice, torture and death are the immediate punishment inflicted on the helpless woman ; — were I to tell them that the condition of their own sex among savages is so truly miserable, that many women put their female infants to death, lest, by continuing their life, they should entail upon them the wretchedness of their mothers ; — were I to tell my female hearers fur- ther, that such will be the state of their own sex among savages, till the understandings of the men are enlightened by knowledge, and their hearts softened by the mild influences of Christianity ; — were my female hearers but requested to look on this picture, I am per- suaded there is not one among them that has so hard a heart, or that looks with so Uttle contempt on the vanities of life, but would 116 LIFE OF POLLOK. make it possible to convey less or more into the funds of your So- ciety. What one among them would deny herself that delightful task, the sweet satisfaction of elevating the degraded of her own sex to that honourable place in the scale of life, which European women so deservedly enjoy '? " In conclusion, I would say that you have much to expect from the general good sense which prevails in your vicinity. Your list of subscribers, as we said, is already very respectable ; and we trust that those who have hitherto discountenanced you, will no longer shelter themselves under refuges of lies. To every Christian the heathen are calling, with the voice of ardent entreaty, ' Come over and help us against the armies of eternal death.' And the King of Zion is commanding all his hosts to go up with him to battle ; and who shall linger behind 1 Who shall deny himself the honour of the victory 1 Who would stop the river of life in its course, and snatch the heavenly manna from the hungry soul 1 None of those, I am persuaded, w^ho hear me. They will exert themselves with all their might, that they may see the darkness of superstition and ig- norance dissipated by the effulgence of knowledge and true religion ; that they may see tyranny, oppression, and slavery, with all their relentless abettors, and all their chains and burdens, ' cast into the lake of fire;' that they may behold hell-nursed vice and horrid war, with all their wastes, and famines, and groans, ^nd weapons of death, thrown down into utter darkness; while heaven-bred virtue and blissful peace smile over all the earth, with truth and liberty, happiness and immortality, triumphing in their train. Yes, Mr. President, they tdl wish to hail that happy day, when every shadow- shall vanish before the Sun of Righteousness; when the devil and his angels shall be cast out of the earth ; when ' incense and a pure offering' shall be presented to Zion's King, from the rising to the setting sun; when the universal voice of the rational creation shall be, ' Hosanna to the King of Israel ! blessed is he that cometh in tbe name of the Lord !' when salvation shall triumph gloriously, ' And peaceful nations own the Prince of Peace.' If, then, the arrival of this happy era be their great desire, let them be fellow-workers with Christ : let them cast their mite into his treasury, and they need fear no want of success. Verily, ♦ the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together, foi the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.' " HYMN. 117 This missionary oration is entitled to the very first place in EngHsh prose composition. It is the production of a mind which was skilled in the idiom and power of the language. It is copious, compre- hensive, terse. Now rushing like a rapid river, now rounding some difficult headland, and then be- coming expansive and grand like the ocean itself. There is, also, a chiselled accuracy about ever}^ paragraph. The subject is also well treated : indeed it is a specimen of the manner how such a subject should be discussed. There are no wild, unmeaning flights of imagination ; no gross violations of taste : nor are unnecessary epithets introduced. The strong- holds of error are stormed and taken, and the op- poser himself utterly vanquished. We are not aware of ever having seen more perfect sketches in prose of heathen WTetchedness than in the portrai- tures of the male and female savages. The following hymn was probably written as a tribute to the Saviour of heathen man, and is w^orthy of the author of " The Course of Time.'"' A HYMN. When Satan, man s infernal foe, By pride and hate impelled, Had pkmged our race in guilt and woe, And forth from bUss expelled ; The mighty Lord of love and grace, Who sits enthroned on high, In mercy viewed the ruined race, And sent his Son to die. 118 LIFE OF POLLOK. He sent his Son from his right hand To this lost world of woes, By death to conquer and command All our destroying foes : To conquer sin, and death, and hell, And triumph o'er the grave ; The great Destroyer to expel. And all his people save. O wondrous love ! O boundless grace ! For God's own Son most high, Our sinful nature to embrace, To suffer and to die ! CHAPTER V. " But whatsoever was both good and fair, And highest relish of enjoyment gave, In intellectual exercise was found." In sailing along the sea shore, the navigator is guided in his course by the headlands and light- houses. He forms them in his own mind into a chain of distances and location, each object being an important link ; nor can he pass one and forget to register it, without perilling the safety of his ship and crew ; taking care, however, to concatenate one thing with another, like the mathematician in a demonstration, he lands in safety at the harbour which formed the last point in the series of objects. The biographer has to pursue a not dissimilar course. He has to look at the prominent incidents and angles in the character he portrays. Like the navigator, he passes unnoticed many a scene of beauty and interest ; nor can he do more than glance over the whole line of the individual's earthly existence, and chroncicle a few of the evanescent acts and states. The innumerable emotions which may have influenced the person cannot be noticed. No man can embody the ideas in language, which have lodged in another mind ; and which were never covered with the garniture of words. The 120 LIFE OF POLLOK. reader of biography should expect, at most, to find only a few broken links of a great chain, ingeniously joined together. This is all that should be asked. Influenced and controlled by these considerations, I introduce several letters that have been preserved ; and which are the only memorials existent of the poet's history during the summer vacation of 1821. The first one consists entirely of what he calls a " Discussion on Compositional thinking," and was addressed to a literary friend. " 3Ioorhouse, May 28, 1821. " Dear Friend, — I have frequently heard you speak of the diffi- culty of expressing thought clearly and elegantly in language. This has led me to reflect often on the subject of composition ; and I have been compelled to differ considerably from the critics on this subject. It is generally found recorded in some corner of every critic's works, ' that he who thinks clearly and elegantly, will not fail to speak and write clearly and elegantly also.' This sentiment, although it has often been promulgated from the critic's tribunal, with all the authority of a Pythian oracle, I am, nevertheless, in- clined to controvert, nay, even disbelieve. Did every one write his vernacular language, it is probable that every one would clearly ex- press what he clearly understood. But if one has spoken the Scotch language for twenty years, and has seen part only of the English stored up in books, how is it possible that he can write with ease in English? Would it be just to say that the Scotch farmer was a confused thinker, because he could not describe the beauty of his fields, or the formation of his plough, in the English tongue 1 If this would be unjust, it is equally so to arraign the Scotch student's talents, because, in his outset, he expresses himself with sluggish- ness and perplexity. Every Scotchman who learns to write good English, must first learn, from books, the English language. In this country the EngHsh is a ' dead language :' it is never used ex- cept in studied orations. To write in a language in which we have not been accustomed to think, seems to be the peculiar privilege of the critic. Of this, the opinion we have been endeavouring to con- ESSAY. 121 demn, is a sufficient proof. Did the Scotch critic submit to the druf'gcry of thmkinjr, before he pronounced every Scotchman an oaf who could not write easily and correctly in the Enghsh tongue, he would probably see reason to lay aside so hurtfuf an opinion! The opniion is huitlul, because many believe what critics say ; and, therefore, many must be thought blockheads who are really not so' and surely this is an injury done to mankind. " The opinion which I have dared to dispute, is, I believe, no new- one. There is no doubt that it was in daily circulation amona the Greeks and Romans; and among them it was less a lie than it is among us. Some of our addle-headed modern critics have certainly dug the sentiment from the Siccaneous heaps of ancient criticism; and after dressing it in an English garb, have endeavoured to nat- uralize It among us. But they should have recollected a favourite maxun of their owai, namely, attention to circumstances. The Hy- metlian thyme would lose its delicate perfume, were it transplanted to the climate of Lapland. The Itahan vine would yield few grapes en the mountains of Scotland. So an opinion, which was true and useful at Rome, might be false and injurious at Edinburgh. " I have said, perhaps, too much on this subject ; but I have spoken at large, because the sentiment under consideration has been long current and of wide circulation. And there is nothing more detri^ mental to- the progress of the student than the belief, thlit if he can- not express every thing clearly and elegantly in English, he is a confused and feeble thinker. Such an opinion of himself places in his own way a strong barrier to improvement. His spirits are damped and his exertions unnerved, because he imagines he has much greater obstacles to surmount than others, belbre he can reach a respectable mediocrity ; and a much better excuse if he should shrink back from the path of improvement and honour, and seek shelter in the much devouring gulf of indolence and oWiv'ion. " After saying so much in opposition to some great men, I shall now say something more in harmony with them. To think cor- rectly, clearly, and elegantly, is absolutely necessary, if we would write with ease, perspicuity and neatness ; although the reverse of * the proposition will not hold true. Before w*e can°wield the English language with grace and dignity, we must have learned to thin\ in in it— a task in which much of the difficulty of composition consists. There are two principles in human nature, which always war against one another— activity and indolence. Activity sets the 11 122 LIFE OF POLLOK. mind to work, and urges it to continual investigation ; indolence, although it is too feeble a pnn.-iple ever to lay the mind totally asleep, is yet always endeavouring, and often too successiully, to di- minish the labour of thinking, by hurrying the mind from one object to another, without permitting it to make one thorough investigation. Hence it happens, that so many men arrive at old age with so scanty mental acquisitions. The mind will not be lulled to entire rest, be- cause this would be to lull it out of existence. But it is the custom of the herd of mankind, and of many of those who are the head and shoulders above the rest, to leave the contemplation of an object, whenever the contemplation of it has become a task. On a beauti- ful landscape, every one reflects with ease and delight. Every im- agination readily represents the mass of objects of which the land- sea oe is composed, and many are content with this confused review of it. The ideas which the landscape has produced in the mind, are not properly formed into words ; at least, the language is of a mixed and barbarous kind. Reflection of this sort is easy, and this is all that indolence naturally permits. But this is not thinking in Eng- lish. To think in English, the landscape must be made to pass be- fore the mind, not only as a whole, but every object must be vieweJ in connection with surrounding objects. We must view the stream- let, leaping down from the rugged mountain ; here lost under the embracing luxuriance of the hawthorn, the hazel, or the broom ; there hurrying down the silvery rapid, bursting forth in a beautiful cascade. After you have conducted the waters to the adjoining plain, you must not leave them to wamler alone. Nay, the beauty of the fields should be so fascinating as to induce the river to make a thousand meanders, as if unwilUng to quit the scene. You must review its daisied sloping banks, richly clad with flocks and herds^ grazing in easy joy, or ruminating in safe repose. Look to the peaceful shepherd, spreading his listless length beneath the bloom- ing hawthorn, chanting on his artless reed ; or, lost in love, gazing on the limpid stream, while his dog slumbers at his feet, or snaps at the encroaching fly. And a little down the stream you may ven- ture half to reflect on the reclining form of the youthful shepherd- ess. A gentle birch might stretch forth its tremulous hands, turning aside the too violent sunbeams froia the love-looking face of the guileless maid. Her bosom might beave with kind desires, and her eye long, with hopeful modesty, for the arrival of her lover. The daisy, the violet, and the cowslip, should suule redundant beauty. ESSAY. 123 the kindest zephyrs regale her with their most delicate perfumes, the lark warble over her head, and the blackbird serenade her from the luxuriant elm. Now you must look at the river constrained between two rocks, boiling and roaring to get free, and then winding peace- fully along the level plains and flowery meadows — cultivated na- ture waving richly with the hopes of the husbandman, '•■ Numberless more objects must be thought over, in a landscape of any extent, or beauty, or variety. English words must be found to represent every object ; words to bear out the mutual relation and mutual effect, and words to generalize the effect of the whole. This mode of thought I would colt cmnposit'ionat thinking. Whoever has brought his mind thus to continue every idea, till its proper repre- sentative has been ascertained, has acquired what will soon render his composition correct and expressive. Compositional thinking should not be satisfied with the first word that offers itself for the representation of an idea. The word should be carefully sought which corresponds exactly to the idea. Nor should a sluggish ar- rangement of terms content us. Different forms of collocation should be tried till the sense be not enfeebled or obscured by the language, nor the language crippled or savaged by the sense. The very con- trary of this frequently happens in thinking. The mind looks for a moment into the object which attracts it, and then hurries to an- other, leaving a course marked only by confusion, scantiness, or vacuity. To think often on trifles, is not the duty of a being whose origin is heaven, and whose final retreat should be there. But on whatever we do think, the mind should be kept upon it till every idea suggested has fairly formed itself into English language. To think in this manner, is not only the best means of acquiring facility in com- position, but discovers whether the object of contemplation be des- picable or worthy, and informs us what is the value of the ideas suggested. We are thus made acquainted with the exact degree of our knowledge on every subject — an acquaintance which will often mortity pride, but always improve the man. " To compose often formally is certainly the best method of learn- ing to compose well. But to think always compositionally, is the easiest way of gaining expedition, correctness and elegance, in for- mal writing. " Of all kinds of composition, none seems to me more difficult than definite and well-marked description of external nature and human character. These are objects on which we have been accustomed 124 LIFE OF POLLOK. to gaze from our earliest years, and we can easily represent them in a kind of barbarous, colloquial jargon. But with the legitimate English words which the survey of variegated scenery, or the ob- servation of an interesting character, should suggest, we are little acquainted. Of philosophical disquisition, we have thought spar- ingly in boyhood. The genuine language of philosophy is, there- fore, learned with philosophy itself That proper descriptive words may be acquired, it is necessary to see or hear them. Of hearing them in common conversation, we have small opportunity. In the pulpit, professed description of external nature is rare ; and good or bad generally suffices for a character. Preachers say little of costumes, attitudes of body, or expressions of countenances. When a more full display of particulars is attempted, the aid of the apos- tle Paul is generally called in; and, indeed, his descriptions of gen- eral moral character are extremely full and expressive. Still we Imve almost nothing from the pulpit expressive of the endless shad- ings of character which men display, when they walk, sit, eat, talk, salute, look, laugli, weep, and so forth ; and description of costumes is rarely a necessary part of a sermon. To books, therefore, we must turn, if we would make the language of description our own : and we should never read without comparing the copy with the original — if the original be within our reach. " Lest I should turn a critic, or what is nearly the same thing, a lecturer on the art of writing, and like a very bulky class of these critics and lecturers, only display my own frigid stupidity ; ' I shall stop here,' or, in my own words, close my discussion. " R. POLLOK." This letter is one of great., intrinsic, literary value. It presents in a few w^ords a correct and explicit exhibition of the elements essential to the attainment of a pure English style. First, is shown the necessity of being able to think in English ; which involves the consideration of being able to give the English idea to the sensation ; and next to clothe that idea in English garniture. His views too about the classification of objects in composition, LETTER. 125 cannot be too highly appreciated. Indeed we were forcibly reminded in the perusal of the " Discus- sion," of the astute chemist who pursues the ana- lytic process and then the synthetic one. Every teacher of youth would greatly facihtate the art of composition, by requiring the students under his care to commit this epistle to memory. It is, with- out doubt, a rich legacy to the millions whose ver- nacular is the English. Nor is there one sugges- tion in it, which is not the result of his own experi- ence ; and he began early in life to study critically his own language. One of the canons of his fa- ther, was, never to pass a word which he did not understand without looking for it in the dictionary ; nor did any son ever more rigidly respect a fath- er's counsel. The University of Glasgow has not only a large and valuable collection of books, in what is called the University Library, but a select and useful li- brary to every separate class. I mention this with a view of throwing light upon the following letter which he sent to his brother, who was spending the summer vacation in the city of Glasgow, near the University. " Moo7iwuse, Jutie 1, 1821. " Dkar Brother, — If you would get some books out of the Ethic Libro.ry for me, on Monday first, you would do me a very great kindness. I cannot be there when the library opens. Perhaps the librarian wishes the book-getters to attend in person. But you can tell the librarian that I cannot attend, and that it would be unjust not to send me books, if my commissioner be trustworthy. Tell him to recollect Mr. Mylne's lectures on justice and bemvolence. The 11* 126 LIFE OF POLLOK. books shall be kept and returned according to the rules of the library. *' Your librarian will, perhaps, send me three books. I will men- tion a few : • Hartley on Man ;' I wish very much to see this book ; ' Robertson's History of India;' ' Formey's History of Philosophy ;' and failing these — ' Goldsmith's Animated Nature ;' ' Locke on the Human Understanding ;' ' Harrington's Oceana ;' ' Aristotle's Art of Poetry ;' ' Pope's Life of Scriblerius,' &c. ; ' Father Male- branche's Search after Truth;' ' Blackstone's Commentaries;' ' Hamilton on National Debt,' &c. " If the good hbrarian happen to intrust you with a few books to me, I trust you will let me have them by the first opportunity. " Lest you should not think me serious about ' Hartly on Man,' I may mention that a ministerial friend of mine wishes to see it. " R. POLLOK." This letter is valuable, inasmuch as it opens up to our gaze his tastes and course of reading, at the time. Nor can we avoid remarking, that it is an- other proof of his desire for general knowledge. It is the fewer number of students who break over a college corriculum, and grapple with history and philosophy in their wider fields ; not more than one in a class extends his inquiries into political econ- omy and the principles of jurisprudence. It appears from examining his note-book, that "Forney's History of Philosophy," and "Gold- smith's Animated Nature," were sent to him by the librarian. There is in his own chirography, an abridgment of the former, and a selection of facts from the latter. It is impossible to disclose the ef- forts of such a mind. They are only known to the Omniscient. 1 In the month of July, he visited a portion of Ayr- shire, and recorded in a journal a transcript of his JOURNAL. 127 feelings and observations. From the phraseology- it is probable he designed to copy it, and send it to a friend. "brief account of peregrinations during the month of JULY, 1821. " R. POLLOK, " Dear Friend, — On Friday, 29th June, I left Moorhouse about seven o'clock in the morning. I set my face towards Horsehill. My father and mother, and some more of my friends, were also go- ing there. They had a horse and cart, and had promised to give me a ride ; but by some neglect or other, 1 missed them at the out- set. I was now greatly embarrassed. I considered this unlucky beginning as an earnest of my future travels. Superstition and philosophy held a loud debate within me. The former urged that mischances and disappointments in the outset were nothing but prelibations of deeper distresses in the issue ; and numberless le- gends were quoted to confirm the assertion. The latter insisted that the future could be known only by travelling into it ; that the beggar had no reason to despair of getting his alms in the second house, because he had found a shut door at the first, as the nig- gardly and the generous often dwell in the same neiglibourhood. 1 waited some time for the decision of the two contending powers ; but two enemies so potent and inveterate, w^ere not hkely to come to a speedy termination of hostilities. What must I do ? To re- main at home w^as contrary to my promises ; to travel through dif- ficulties was contrary to my inclination, At this perplexing crisis, it occurred to me, in opposition to the arguments of superstition, that the key had once fallen from my hand into the mire, just when I had locked the door to be absent in quest of a partner for the im- portant business of a concert. On this former occasion, the event had equalled my highest wishes : all had been prosperity and hap- piness. Together with this strong proof in favour of philosophy, the irresistible light of a Scotch proverb forced itself into my mind — ' Hard beginnings make good endings.' Trusting to the wisdom of my ancestors, I marched on ; and in the course of half an hour came up with the cart. 1 mounted it and rode to Horsehill. In the meantime, I was suitably admonished by my mother, always to ask what road those meant to travel whom I wished to accompany. 128 LIFE OF POLLOK. *' I found my friends at Horsehil! all well, except my worthy un- cle David. For some years past his body has resembled the vege- table creation: it has decayed in winter, and revived in summer. But the present summer seems to have denied him its nourishing in- fluences. He is much paler than usual, and less of his mortal part remains. He is not melancholy, however. Like the leafless oak, he seems to be decaying with cheerful dignity. " From Horsehill I set out for Greenside. On my way thither, I met my brother David and my very worthy friend Mr. David Marr, who returned with me to Greenside, where I found all my relations in good health : the two elder daughters smiling in all the luxuriance of youth and beauty. The same evening I return- ed to Horsehill, in company with Margaret Taylor, her sister Ma- rion, and their brothers John and David, together with Mr. Marr and my brother. The evening was extremely fine, and my pleas- ure was greatly heightened by the company in which I was pla- ced. The two ladies in company might not be unfitly compared to Minerva and Venus. Like these goddesses, their beauty might have been a subject of debate. Margaret resembled Minerva and Marion was a good copy of Venus — only there is nothing of that fierceness about her eyes, which was the ancient cause of so much mischief " On our way to Horsehill, we had occasion to call at a small house, inhabited by a widow-mother and an only daughter. A kind of pleased surprise looked out of the countenance of the good old mother when we entered. There were few chairs in the house, but the mistress observed that she had ' plenty elsewhere.' I was under the agreeable necessity of taking my fair companion on my knee. We were sitting in this truly friendly manner when the daughter entered ; — for she had been out tethering a foster-ewe. Her face had the undesigning, lamblike appearance of the animal that she had just left. After a few questions and answers of com- monplace importance, we left this little habitation of peace. Here I had seen no face strongly marked with the lines of tliinking ; but entertainment was there. In going out of the house, this passage of King Solomon's forced itself strongly upon my mind : — ' He that increaseth in knowledge, increaseth sorrow.' ' And shall I give up the search after knowledge V said I to myself Something whis- pered, ' No ;' for he that increaseth knowledge also increaseth pleasure. JOURNAL. 129 " Converse, pleasing if not very profound, occupied our time till we arrived at Horsehill. Here we drank tea in company with a number of our friends. Three of as were students, reputed to be looking forward to the ministry. There were, consequently, a few strokes of wit directed against the money-loving spirit of clergymen; for this is a subject which wits have long enjoyed. My worthy un- cle David was in the company ; and his wonderful stores of knowl- edge flowed out at intervals, with overwhehning sweep. I sat and admired, and wished to myself that I could inherit his mental acquirements. ' I would rather have them,' said I, ' than his farm.' Perhaps I vv^as imposing upon myself; but the delusion, if it was one, pleased me. One of my uncle's remarks would be extremely useful, were it reduced to practice : ' It is always dangerous and very often hurtful, to attack personal character.' I returned again to Greenside with my former company. Here 1 slumbered away the night. " Jwne 30. — This morning was very fine, and, after breakfast, I set out with my friend Mr. Marr towards Auchmillan, a little ham- let about two miles from Mauchline. We reached Auchmillan, the dwelling place of Mr. Marr's father, about four o'clock in the after- noon. Here we were soon visited by Mr. Opaque ; he is designed for the ministry, and had a sermon in his pocket of his own manu- facturing. After some corporeal refection, I laid myself in bed, and Mr. Opaque began to read his sermon. It had a most somniferous influence on me ; but my friend insisted that I should prefer a ser- mon to a sleep. The sermon I suppose was meant to prove original sin ; but the truth was, the sermon was too profound for my ca- pacity. The reader seemed very much pleased with what he had Written. This was no more than natural ; for it is not more natu- ral for man to love the offspring of his body, than the offspring of his mind. But I took the liberty of judging for myself; and I think the sermon consisted of an introduction, three heads, and an appli- cation or conclusion. The introduction consisted of shadowy irregu- larity ; the first head was darkness illustrated by obscurity ; the second, opacity explained by rayless blackness ; the third, perplexity illustrated by intricacy ; and the application was ' confusion worse confounded;' all of which compelled me to conclude, that the author was completely master of that happy knack of writing which re- quires not the drudgery of thinking. " After this drowsy sermon was ended, Mr. Opaque, my friend. l30 LIFE OF POLLOK. and myself, went out to feast for a little on the descending day. Mr. Opaque made the profound observation, ' that it is very difficult to give a good description of the evening; although there are few that think so.' We entered a belt of firs, and it was immediately proposed that we should all three carve the initial letters of the names of our dearest beloved fair ones on some smooth tree. Mr. Opaque objected to this exposure. ' But what,' said we, ' can be better done for them, since the dear creatures are absent V Mr. Opaque was convinced, and we began seriously to the work of carv- ing. This piece of great affection being finished, I proposed that we should next carve our own names, making obeisance to the fair ones. This I spoke from the heart, for they were dear valuable letters to which I was to bow. No objection was made to this pro- posal ; for what will not a youth in love do 1 '•' We now returned to the house and Mr. Opaque departed. Mr. Marr's father had come home during our absence from the house, and he now welcomed me to his dwelling by a cordial shake of the hand. This old man is well informed ; but his knowledge has not made him irreligious. By his practice he persuades powerfully to the fulfilment of the command : ' With all thy getting, get that wis- dom which will make thee wise unto salvation.* " In this place I find myself very comfortable, and from it I am to make my excursions for a few days. " SaObath, July 1. — This day I went with my friend to Mau- chline and heard a sermon. The preacher was not very profound ; but in all respects acquitted himself very much as becomes ' the messenger of peace to guilty men.' " Mr. Marr was requested to stay after sermon and superintend a Sabbath evening school. This gave me an opportunity of drinking tea with the preacher who had addressed us from the pulpit. He was modest in conversation, and was willing to be instructed as well as to instruct, a disposition not very frequent in clergymen. I heard the scholars of the Sabbath school examined ; they acquit- ted themselves tolerably. The mode of teaching was very good, but too laxly enforced. " Monday, Auchmillan, July 2. — The afternoon of this day I spent in reading and writing. After dinner I went out with my friend to enjoy the fine day, and to visit some of our neighbours. " Auchmillan, July 3.— This day I spent mostly within doors in reading, writing, and so on." STANZAS. 131 STANZAS, TO MR. DAVID MARK AND FRIENDS. Friends ! deep in my bosom living, Every hour made dearer still, If I e'er, your trust deceiving, Fail you in your hour of ill ; On my sun-vexed temples never May the living zephyr blow ; Nor the glad-seen desert river, To my parch'd lips sweetly flow. Never may the lark of morrow Wake me to the breath of spring ; Nor Philomela's love-lorn sorrow, To my wakeful midnight sing. Never may the hawthorn's blossom Lead my evening path astray ; Ne'er the west's thought-courting bosom Feast my eye at close of day. May no friend, with heart-true sighing, O'er my grass-grown ashes weep ; No kindred bard, with sad notes dying, Lull my lonely ghost asleep, *' Wednesday, July 4. — In company with my friend, I left Auch- millan this morning for Catrine. We took dinner with Mr. Pol- !ok's father and mother; and then proceeded down the Ayr towards Haughholm. The scenery between Catrine and Haughholm is the most noble which the Water of Ayr exhibits. You have seen this place. I shall not, therefore, attempt to give you any description. The impression which the beauties of Haughholm made on my mind, prevented me from taking almost any rest till they had compelled me to compose a little piece, entitled an ' Interview with Ayr Water.' 132 LIFE OF POLLOK. At Haughholm we spent the evening. Nothing can be more pleas- ant than the polite hospitality of this place. Here we enjoyed the night." The poet, at the solicitation of Miss Ingram, the host's fair daughter, wrote the following hnes dur- ing the evening : TO AGNES. One verse sweet Agnes from the muse besought, To give that verse the willing muses fought; Apollo's self, to end the tuneful fight, Wisely decreed that each one verse should write. Successive thus the praying sisters sung— Kind heaven defend the fair from every wrong ; Let rosy health with virtue still attend, Grant her, O heaven ! one all-unfailing friend ; Still may she drink of pleasure's purest streams, And gentlest angels prompt her golden dreams. Give her enough, unmixed with loveless care, Let whom she loves all manly virtues share ; O may they live, sleep, wake, in mutual love. And angels waft them to tiie climes above ! " Thursday, July 5. — This morning I opened my eyes again on all the beauties of the banks of Ayr. After breakfast, I set out with iny friend towards a farm-house about two miles from the Ayr. In the meantime we walked, over-arched with oak, and birch, and plane ; and serenaded by all the music of the banks of the Ayr, till we arrived at Barskimming, the seat of Lord Glenlee. All the property of this gentleman bears strong marks of taste ; and the nearer you approach his mansion, the more Conspicuous are these marks. Nature has provided him with a situation for a house of the most noble kind : and the grandeur and taste of the house add dignity to the place. I think Lord Glenlee's library the most beau- tiful place that I have seen, if we take into consideration the com- bination of nature and art. The library contains about twelve thousand vdumes. The carpet cost a hundred guineas. Every JOURNAL. 133, part of the interior is finished in the most elegant manner imagina- ble ; and three of the windows appear to overhang the Water of Ayr, which is here ornamented as much as large trees, lofty banks, and singing birds can do. From Barskimming we went to the farm just referred to. This farm, the property of Lord Glenlee, consists of about two hundred acres of excellent land. The dweUing-house is finished out in a style that does honour both to landlord and tenant. Every person about this house has the look of perseverance. The great wheel, , the ten- ant, is a complete farmer. You may have noticed the like in your time. He looks always Uke a man who has a great deal to think about, speaks very seldom, and scarcely ever smiles. So great is the dignified distance which he maintains towards all the members of his household, that even his own sons, who have arrived at ma- turity, dare scarcely ask him the smallest favour. No authoritative tone accompanies his orders : for he knows that his slightest com- mand will be punctually obeyed. He is quite civil to strangers ; but to them, as to all others, he has little to say. About the house, he often leans himself to a table, a chest of drawers, or a desk, and picks his teeth. " I have often wondered whether this still, important, and thought- ful behaviour of the big farmer, be natural or studied ; and I have at last drawn the conclusion, that it is the natural result of his sit- uation. The man who pays the rent of two or three hundred acres of good ground, must necessarily think some ; therefore he must not always speak. If a man preserves not some distance and dignity, servants will neither respect nor obey him ; and when a man has long been accustomed to do so towards servants, it is but natural that he should act in the same manner towards his two sons, when these sons occupy the working situation of farm-servants. Add to all this the natural importance of human nature, the desire which one part of it has to govern another, and you will not be surprised at the character of a big farmer. " After this time, Sir, my peregrinations have been either so barren of recordable facts, or I have been so lazy, or so much employed in writincr on other subjects, that I shall be compelled to conclude my account of them. I cannot do this, however, without certifying yoa that I have submitted, once voluntarily, to a severe infliction from a story of a famous story-teller of the west. From these story-tellers, I have been long accustomed to fly with great trepidation. But as 12 134 LIFE OF POLLOK. the relator of this story was one of the most celebrated in all the self-complacent Ayrshire, I ventured to sacrifice my patience in fa- vour of my curiosity. " My dear friend, if ever you should fall in with a story-teller of this kind, which I pray may never be your lot, I beseech you fly from him as you would do from the plague. Let no curiosity prompt you to risk your patience. Let what I have suffered be a warning to you ; and let neither a mile of burning whins nor a boisterous river prevent your escape. " R. Pollok." The reader of this letter will not fail to be struck with the elegance and power with which the stu- dent wrote. His description of the contest between superstition and philosophy, of his visit to his un- cle's, of his cousins, of the widow and her daughter, of the library at Barskimming, of the sermon of Mr. Opaque, and of the big farmer, are perfect in their kind. They are models of that kind of com- position. His pen invested every object which he touched with interest and life. He was emphati- cally a creator both in prose and verse. It was on the Sabbath that Mr. Pollok visited Mauchline, and this no doubt accounts for his si- lence in his journal, concerning Burns the poet; who has ennolDled the town and surrounding country by the splendour of his genius. Mossgiel, the farm which his family occupied at the time he burst into public notice, is only about half a mile distant from it. On a pilgrimage to this place in 1824, we gazed on the field where the "Mountain Daisy" grew, visited the house which was the scene of *' the Jolly Beggars," and the venerable old Kirk of the " Holy Fair." In the grave-yard we deciphered OMISSION. 135 on the moss-grown stones, the names of the " Rev. Mr. Auld," "Nanse Tinnoch," and other person- ages, to whom his muse has given a world-wide fame. Indeed the plots of very many of his earlier poems are laid in that locality. It is strange why the author of " the Tales of the Covenanters" in such a journey, should make no allusion to George Wishart, the celebrated martyr; inasmuch, as he must have passed the field near Mauchline, where that holy man preached a re- markable sermon in 1544, at which Laurence Ran- kene, the Laird of Schaw, the most wicked man in that country, and others, were converted. It was a Pentecostal season to many souls. Nor does he make any allusion in his description of Barskimming, to Adam Reid, whose wonderful answers before King James the IV. and his great council in 1492, con- founded and turned into ridicule the bishop and his accusers. The following letter shows that it was written immediately on his arrival at his father's house from this tour. It is to his brother David who spent the summer in Glasgow. " Moorhouse, last Saturday of July ^ 1821, " Dear Brother, — I am just arrived at Moorhouse. I left our uncle David about three hours ago ; and received what I fear shall be the last injunction which I shall ever receive from him. Yester- day he was unable to sit out of bed ; and this day he is still weaker. He is wearing away with resigned dignity. Although his faith, as I heard him say, is perhaps, not that of ' full assurance,' yet with humble resignation and hopeful confidence he can say, tliat though his God ' slay' him, he ' will trust in him' — that he shall be ' more than a conqueror through him that loved him.' How solemn, 136 LIFE OF POLLOK, how affectionate, were his admonitions to me! and you know with what feelings I left him. Never did Young's inttrrogative asser- tion strike so deeply into my mind — ' What is time vvortii ? ask death- beds, they can tell.' " I cannot detail, for I am wearied to-night. I have written a few things wnich you will see when you come to Moorhouse Good night. "R. PoLLOK." The next letter which has been preserved was written from his uncle's house, where he had gone again to see him once more in the flesh. " Horsehill, August 14, 1821, " Dear Borther, — At this moment my uncle is nearly in the same state as when you saw him, only his strength has decayed a little. He still enjoys the same noble tranquillity of mind, and the same resignation to the will of his Creator. His mind seems to be more spiritually enhghtened than when I formerly saw him. As he advances nearer the promised land, his soul glows with brighter prospects of it. That eternal 'rest' which awaits the righteous, seems already to have embraced his soul ; and bidding adieu to the mazes of doubt, and the damps of unbelief, his countenance is al- ready brightening to the glorious welcome of his Father, — ' Well done, thou good and faithful servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.' Truly ' the end' of the righteous man ' is peace.' " This afternoon I am going to Greenside where I expect to meet Miss , together with my cousin R. Pollok, who is at present in Ayrshire, It is probable that I may gather something of im- portance from a meeting of such illustrious personages. Let the king, poor man, enjoy his courts and levees about Dublin. [The reigning monarch was at that time in Ireland.] '•I have not yet spoken to my uncle about leaving Horsehill ; but it is likely, if he oppose it not considerably, that I shall return to Moorhouse on or before Saturday, first, " R. Pollok." On the 11th day of September, his maternal un- LETTER. 137 cle, David Dickie, entered into his rest. A man whose terse language, and high-toned mental and moral nature had much to do in giving a bias to the forming mind of his immortal nephew. There is one other letter written by him about that time, which is worthy of a place in his biog- raphy, on account of the ardour of friendship and frankness of expression which it exhibits. It was written to his cousin, Robert Poll ok, while on a visit to his brother at Glasgow. " Glasgow, October 19, 1821. " My dear Friend, — I am sitting this moment in my room No. 20 Portland street. I arrived just a few minutes ago. You see I have got the lamp lighted, for David is not in. I see some letters lying on the table, addressed to thee. ' Well,' said I to myself, ' thou shalt soon receive them.' " Fortune has not trampled me so much to-day as her custom is ; although I fear she has indulged me vvith prosperous gales, that she may afterwards the more effectually dash me on her horrid shelves and quicksands. But why should I fear her^ She cannot take back what she has given, for I have enjoyed it already; and though she should pursue me with all her storms behind, and meet me with all her breakers before, she can only empty my pocket ; but what of thatl while I have a friend and a heart to love a friend. Let virtue be our guide — let unbending rectitude characterize all our ac- tions ; and if we have moments of sorrow, we shall also have mo- ments of joy. Let the stinted souls, if souls they can be called, that never felt the weight of an empty pocket, Unger out their insipid lives ; a wave never embroiled the smooth surface of their fate ; and envy them not. 'No the wild bliss of nature needs alloy. And fear and sorrow fan the tire of joy.' " Thine " R. POLLOK. 12* 138 LIFE OF POLLOK. All that is preserved of his productions during the summer vacation, is only as a fraction to a large integer. His mind appears to have been a laboratory in which thoughts were continually be- ing forged; indeed all that is left of his labours are only " a few sere and yellow leaves." CHAPTER VI. Philosophy the reason led Deep through the outward circumstance of things , And saw the master wheels of nature move ; And travelled far along the endless line Of certain, and of probable." In November, 1821, Mr. Pollok entered on the last session of his Hterary course. It was usual in Glasgow to attend the Natural Philosophy and Mathematical classes last, an arrangement of per- haps questionable propriety. It was impossible for the student to give the same attention to them which he gave to the previous classes. Mr. Pollok had devoted four sessions to Latin, Greek, Logic, and Moral Philosophy ; and now he had only one to give to the most comprehensive and abstruse sciences. Whether it was that the Moral Philosophy class rather adumbrated the others, on account of the great men Drs. Hutchison, Adam Smith and Thomas Reid, who had all filled the chair during the preced- ing century ; or that the Scottish mind was m.ore disposed for metaphysical investigations ; or that the Professors of Natural Philosophy and Mathematics had not been able to throw a popular spirit into their lectures, and yet Professors Meikleham and Miller were eminent in their departments, it is difficult to 140 LIFE OF POLLOK. affirm : this, however, is certain, that during Mr. Pollok's time these classes had not the interest and importance attached to them which has been since. The fame of Dr. Robert Simpson, the able editor of Euclid, and of James Watt, who had just died, was yet in abeyance in the University. Since the induction of Dr. James Thompson to the Mathematical chair in 1832, a different state of things has existed. He gave a new impulse to the study of Mathematics in Scotland. Perhaps no man living can give a greater epic interest to dem- onstrations. He invests Geometry and the Calcu- lus with the very spirit of poesy. His Lectures and works, published during his connection with the College of Belfast, Ireland, have given a prominence to the science throughout the whole province of Ulster. His system of Arithmetic is a desideratum in Great Britain, and a standard work in the Irish schools. The Andersonian Institution, which was estab- lished in Glasgow in 1823, immediately after Mr. Pollok graduated, did much to promote the study of Natural Philosophy and Chemistry. The names of Drs. Thomson of the University, and Ure of the Institution, in the department of Chemistry, have a world-wide celebrity. Dr. J. Nichol, in the astro- nomical field, has also added greatly to the repu- tation of the University. If the facilities in these sciences had been as great in the days of Mr. Pol- lok, his interest in them would have been corres- pondent to that in the other branches of his course. REVIEW OF THE COUKSE. 141 The statutes of the University require all students belonging to the kingdom of Scotland, to attend four sessions before obtaining the degree of Arts. Those resident out of the kingdom may offer them- selves as candidates after three sessions. The ex- aminations for the degrees of Bachelor and Master of Arts commence in March ; and, as there are three grades of eminence for the Master's degree, these examinations are thorough and extending to the whole studies comprised in the Curriculum. As soon as the Poet had fairly entered on the du- ties of the session, he commenced to review the studies of the four preceding sessions. His brother David, and friend Mr. Marr, joined him in this lat- ter exercise. The Christmas holidays were devoted exclusively to this reviewing process. They read during that time, the Latin and Greek classics al- most without cessation ; and, from the testimony of David, it appears that Robert was continually urg- ing them on to read more hours ; and that, in com- pliance with this solicitation, they were frequently ready to fall off their chairs from perfect exhaustion. In one brief month after the opening of the ses- sion, the most gifted student in the University, William Friend Durant, died of fever. He was a member of the same classes with the Poet, and had been his fellow-student for years. He had taken the highest place as a scholar in every preceding class. His Memoirs, written by his father, an Eng- lish congregational clergyman, contain many of the memorials of his intellect and heart. His Prize 142 LIFE OF POLLOK. Essay " On the Tribunical Power among the Ro- mans," is a wonderful production for a youth of six- teen. He was eminent in Philology, Belles-lettres, Logic and Philosophy. He was more than all this. He was pious — religion was the mightiest elemeni of his greatness. His death cast a gloom over the University. The students prepared a suitable ad- dress on the occasion to his father, who did not arrive in time to close the dying eyes of his only child. It was a beautiful and tender letter of con- dolence. Poliok was not only a mover in this mat- ter, but wrote an elegant monody, which was pub- lished anonymously. The unguarded and injudi- cious criticisms on it, which were made in his hear- ing by a student, led him to write some fifty lines on Envy ; the substance of which is incorporated into his graphic description of that passion, in the Eighth Book of " The'Course of Time." It is an interesting foct, that the Poet, in the midst of his devotion to literature, did not overlook the importance of even family religion. It was his custom to unite with the family where he lodged, in the morning and evening sacrifice. Nay, he and his brother and Mr. Marr conducted the services by turns during this session. Now there is in this incident much to comfort the pious heart ; much, too, which hallows the memory of the departed bard. It would be well if the pen of history could write such a eulogy concerning every literary student. *' They that wait on the Lord shall renew their CONVERSATIONAL TALENT. 143 strength," " the righteous shall be in everlasting re- membrance." There are but few great and gifted minds which are eloquent in conversation. But here Mr. PoUok was another Coleridge. His knowledge was exten- sive and varied, and he could pour it forth at will. His style on those occasions was like polished and beautiful vases, or Pentelican statuary. His views, too, on every subject were original, the ideas falling around him like showers of many-coloured stars. He charmed every circle into which he entered, when the afflatus was present. During this last session, he is said to have been extremely felicitous as a talker. Nor was he ever more eloquent than when discoursing about Philosophy and Religion. The union of the two was a favourite topic. He often said the mind which should marry them would confer an incalculable blessing on man. The same idea is beautifully expressed in one of Coleridge's letters, which was written in the fall of 1819. These are the words : — " There is one department of knowledge, which, like an ample palace, contains within itself mansions for every other knowledge ; which deepens and extends the interest of every other, gives it new charms and additional purpose ; the study of which, rightly and liberally pursued, is beyond any other entertaining, beyond all others tends at once to tranquillize and enliven, to keep the mind elevated and steadfast, the heart humble and tender : it is Biblical theology — the philosophy of religion, the religion of philosophy." •144 LIFE OF POLLOK. At the commencement of this fifth and last ses- sion, a number of the students in the Natural Phi- losophy and Mathematical classes, on the Poet's sug- gestion, formed a society for mutual improvement ; which met weekly in a school-room near the Uni- versity. It was made the duty of each member in turn to read an essay at the opening of the meeting, which should be the subject of discussion. The following one read by Mr. Pollok, is remarkable for correctness of sentiment as well as diversified know- ledge and scholarship. It is without a name in his manuscript ; yet it is a clear vindication of the posi- tion, that the realms of thought are still unexplored. Glasgmo, December 14, 1821. "Nor hoarse nor mute, though fallen on evil days, On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues." *' It has been long the murmur of those who are too indolent for exertion, and of those who have exerted themselves without suc- cess, that all has been already acted on the theatre of literature which can inform the understanding, warm the heart, or amuse the imagination. Our early forefathers stood on the earth, looked round them, and beheld every thing new and attractive. The wide har- vest of material and spiritual nature waved ten thousand beauties to every eye, and offered as many lessons to every understanding. No sickle had been thrust into it. The temptation was irresistible. To reap it down became the luxurious employment of every man of talent; and, indeed, to every one there was enough, and to spare. Homer cast his comprehensive and sublimating eye over the rich fields, and appropriated to his own use many a noble shock. The author of the Book of Job, King David, Isaiah, and the other Jew- ish poets, had their abundant share. The three great tragic poets of the Greeks found sufficient left to them in their days ; and Pin- dar, Herodotus, Plato, and Xenophon, had no reason to complttin. Even behind the Jews and Grecians many handfuls lay scattered ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 145 for succeeding generations. At this period Roman genius appeared, gathered in the unclaimed residue, and, far from being satisfied, spent many of its later years in ransacking aud rifling the copious stores of former ages. After the declension of the Roman Empire, the labourers in the fields of Uterature were the ItaUans, the French, and the English ; and they, Uke Mephibosheth with King David, ate and drank wholly at the table of the ancients ; and for a century or two every one seemed to rise satisfied from the repast. By sim- plifying or compounding what was before them, the dexterous had sometimes the address to give to the old the relish of novelty. Tasso, Corneille, Spenser, Milton, and Shakspeare, with all the men of genius who lived during the two centuries last past, were among the number who possessed the happy art of sprinkfing the old with the relish of the new. They neither starved themselves, therefore, nor suffered their households to perish. But, alas, in what evil days and barren seasons have we been ushered into life ! Not a solitary spike rewards the toils of the hungry gleaner. No new assortment or combination can be made to satisfy the mental appetite. The world is left to us desolate. We must either humbly Uve on the bounties of our ancestors, or hunger away our feeble days in drowsy indolence. Such is the sleepy moan of the sons of sloth, and the bitter cry of little critics. " With whatever neglect or contempt the man who has long ex- ercised his talents for his own good and the pleasure of his fellow creatures, may hear these sluggish murmurs, yet it must be ac- knowledged that they have sometimes quenched the fire of youthful genius, or, at least, shrouded it for a while from the eyes of man- kind. When the youth, whose strong intellectual capacity fits him for contributing to the stored of mental provision, hears repeatedly told what mighty men Uved in former ages — that this and that man of overwhelming name has been before him, and written of every thing — that the single Stagyrite, of matchless mind, wrote on almost every subject with which men are conversant — is not the youth likely to start back from the hallowed ground, and curse the very thought which had almost brought him into comparison where he would have lost so muchl I do not suppose that this magnify- ing of antiquity will awe into silence the itching scribbler, or finally check the progress of that spirit which has been taught by its Maker to trust more its own observations on the past and present, than 13 146 LIFE OF POLLOK. the report of all the living ; yet fear may, for a season, enfeeble ha energy or diminish its lustre, " The best way of banishing fear is to remove the object of terror. In regard to the philosopher, the historian, and the moralist, the removing of this object of dread will be no difficult task ; nor will many of its terrors remain when the poet approaches it. " The youth, who finds his lot has destined his temporal existence to the nineteenth century, and granted him, at the same time, a pa- tient and vigorous philosophical spirit, will soon discover that he has nothing to fear from the lateness of his arrival, or the labours and renown of his ancestors. He may yet benefit society, and encircle his temples with unfading laurels. If he is captivated with the philosophy of mind, the object of his desire remains still in compar- ative darkness. Aristotle said much about the soul, but he said lit- tle that was intelligible. Many centuries after him were quibbled away in endeavouring to explain what had, perhaps, never any meaning. Heaven, in mercy to mankind, sent Bacon ; and, since his time, the powers and operations of the human mind have been considerably unveiled. But the mind is even to-day seen with the shadowy uncertainty of a distant object in the twilight. One phi- losopher distinguishes the mind into a great many independent orig- inal powers. Another, more sparing of his divisions, contents him- self with three or four. One draws a laborious line of demarcation between the dominions of reason and passion, housing the first in the head and the second in the breast. To the former, he ascribes all the more cool, hesitating, and noble actions of man ; to the latter, together with a host of animal and mechanical principles, he as- signs all his more precipitate, stupid, and foolish actions. Another philosopher gives reason the credit of- all human exertion, and in- forms his readers, that were reason never seduced by circumstances, all the vehemence and rage of what is generally termed passion, would never be able to urge a human being into a single foolish deed. Mental philosophers are at no less variance about liberty and necessity, as well as the standard of moral rectitude ; and even the limits of virtue and vice are hut ill defined. When opinions are so various, and judgments so contradictory, there is room to doubt that the truth has not yet been unveiled. Here, then, is a field, where the philosophic mind may exert all its energies ; and, if it is successful, the importance of the truths discovered will secure an abundant and lasting reward. Who would not cherish the memory ESSAV ON ORIGINALITY. 147 of that man as a benefactor to his race, who had so satisfactorily ascertained the powers and operations of the mind ; the distinction or identity of reason and passion ; the springs of action ; the stand- ard of virtue, and the hmit, in all cases, between virtue and vice ; — that on all these interesting subjects no diversity of opinion ex- isted ; and that, as soon as the youth began to inquire into mind, his instructor might be able to prove to him the truth on all these topics as clearly and irrefragably as the natural philosopher can de- monstrate that all the interior angles of any triangle are equal to two right angles 1 Every one, I say, who brings man a step, or prepares him for taking a step, nearer this noble purpose, sheds another beam of light on the human race, and deserves their lasting gratitude. Nor is it to be supposed, after all present difficulties in regard to mind are cleared away, that the mental philosopher will be born in vain. New light will discover new fields and new im- perfections. These will demand the energies of genius to explore, clear, and cultivate. Perfection seems not to be designed for earthly man. Although the present generation should display all that seems at this moment dark, in mind, the next would have as much to explain, and the explanation of it would, perhaps, be as desir- able and useful. " If the youth of genius is fascinated with the majestic charms of natural philosophy, the fields which have been but partially vis- ited, and the wilds where never trode the foot of man, are numer- ous and widely extended. Within the last century, the steady progress of natural science encourages greatly the efforts of inves- tigation. Pythagoras first gave the hint that the sun is the centre of the solar system ; Copernicus renewed and published the opinion ; and Galileo enlarged the means of proof But it was not till the great Sir Isaac Newton shone on earth, that the properties of the rays of Hght, and the all-commanding influences of gravitation, were disclosed to the minds of mortals. At that illustrious era, the veil vi^as removed from the face of the heavens, and the arm of the Almighty was seen actuating, sustaining, and regulating the harmo- nious revolutions of countless worlds. Earth was no longer con- ceived to be a sedentary prisoner, fettered to some point of space, but contemplated with all her mountains, seas, and shaggy forests, wheeling round the central fire — accomplishing, by her own motion, the succession of day and night, and the vicissitude of seasons, and joining the planetary symphonies in praise to Him who made and 148 LIFE OF rOLLOK. who guides the whole. After all, how little is known of material creation ! The further we advance, the wider the prospects, and the more numerous the objects, to attract attention and exercise inge- nuity. The invention of the telescope has shown us enough of other worlds to excite a desire of better acquaintance. And may not the perspicacity and exertion of genius, by modifying and com- bining matter, so invigorate the telescopic eye, that not only the bodies which compose our system shall be made fully to disclose their properties, uses, and inhabitants, but even the fixed stars shall in vain seek the far back recesses of space, to elude human inves- tigation 1 The invention of the telescope at all, was little expected a thousand years ago. In like manner, the improvement of the mi- croscope may yet disclose properties of matter which we are, at present, unable to conceive. The chemist, botanist, mineralogist, and anatomist, have done much to increase the enjoyments of man- kind. But in their dominions there is yet much doubtful, much wanting, and much to be removed. The external conveniences of life may be increased ; and the causes and seats of diseases, which have hitherto baffled the sagacity of physicians, and given over their victims untimely sacrifices to the unrecompensing grave, may be discovered ; from the hidden stores of nature, the victorious med- icine may be extracted, and the goodly human frame may yet smile at the menaces of a disease which, at present, inevitably crushes it to dust. In every part of nature the harvest is plenteous, but the la- bourers have been few. Whoever, therefore, feels the spirit of in- vestigation vigorous within him, has sufficient on which to expend all its energies; and that without loading the lower bibliothecal shelves with prodigious but undisturbed folios, on the essence of the human mind, animal spirits, vibratory nerves, elastic ether, the in- finite divisibility of matter, or its ultimate particles, " Room for the talents of the historian was never more uncon- fined. It is the province of the historian to record the transactions of mankind — to display the dark places of politics — describe the characters of eminent individuals, and the strong biases and gene- ral dispositions of nations ; to delineate the various appearances of the globe — its inhabitants, rational and irrational — its climates and productions, and to do all this so as to please and instruct his own and future generations. And at what period of past ages was the demand for faculties to accomplish this purpose more urgent than it is at this moment 1 Has not the face of Europe, during these ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 149 twenty years last past, been every day agitated with transactions peculiarly fitted to blazon the page of history, and instruct posterity"? If a mortal should happen to make his appearance in this age, with the profound penetration of Tacitus or Hume, the narrative pow- ers of Livy, and the character-drawing talents of Sallust, he may congratulate himself on having arrived at a period when all his abihties may be largely exerted in benefiting his fellow-creatures, and gathering honour to himself. It will recjuire all his penetra- tion to unravel the complicated and heavy pohvty of Europe, weary all his rapidity and skill of narration to record the number and magnitude of events, and exhaust all his vigour and versatility of description to display the greatness and variety of character. All the past is, in some degree, the property of the historian. If his ancestors have missed any thing worthy of remembrance, or left any thing in dubious circumstances, by recording the first and cer- tifying the latter, he confers a benefit on the world. The want of a complete history of Scotland testifies that the historian has no rea- son to deplore want of employment, but that Scotland has cause to lament she has produced so few historians. In short, at whatever watch the man possessed of historical talents ushers into life, he can never want room for their exertion. The mazy wheels of em- pire never cease their rapid revolution. Fortune casts the joyous beams of liberty on one nation, and obscures another with the heavy and melancholy clouds of oppression. The lowly ambitious are ever racking their murderous jaws to devour their brethren ; and the patriotic soul will still nobly labour to snatch the unlawful prey from the Polyphemian mouth, and starve the monster to death. Every sun that rises reveals to men something formerly unnoticed among the multitude of things; some portion of the globe previously unexplored ; some mineral which, till then, was never dragged from its dark recess ; or some herb which had hitherto looked up in vain to attract the eye of man • and all these discoveries call for the pow- ers of the historian, to marshal and array them for the review of every succeeding generation. " The moralist, or the philosopher of morals, can never appeeir on the coast of life unseasonably. True, man has been often told, that obedience and love to his Maker, justice, and benevolence, and gentleness to his fellow-creatures, and temperance, prudence, and fortitude, exercised in regard to himself, secure his honour and hap- piness in every stage of existence ; and that a conduct the reverse 13* 150 LIFE OF POLLOK. ultimately covers him with shame, and casts his naked soul into the weltering lake of fire, where Remorse forever hisses and Despair forever howls. Noah, Job, and Solomon, Seneca, Hall, Young, Ad- dison, and Johnson, have all taught that wisdom excelleth folly as far as light excelleth darkness ; that he who does most good is the happiest ; and that he who perpetrates the most evil is the most miserable. These great men, and others of kindred genius, had their effect, in their own times, in sobering the folly and humanizing the barbarism of the stout-hearted sons of Adam, And, in our day, the influences of their preaching continue to persuade the simple from the inheritance of folly. But every age has its peculiar eccen- tricities in vice, its ill-will at some particular virtue. In one age, folly puts forth his uncouth branches, where, at another period, not a sprout was seen. Our eyes are not now feasted, as the Romans on the arena, with the potent struggle of the two lords of the Creation — the man and the Hon. But, then, we more unnaturally banquet on the gashed features and bloody breast of the pugilist ; and our ears are still soothed with the dying groan of the mortal dueller. We have now no Puttenham, that I know of, giving rules to poets how to hammer their poetical brains into the shape of eggs, turbots, fusees, and lozenges. The alliteration of the sixteenth century, and the euphuism of Lilly, have brawled and mewled themselves into long, lasting, Lethean repose. But, then, we have still critics, whose addle brains and stony hearts would quench the unquenchable fire of a Kirke White : we have still poets more dear to sound than sense; and rhymers who make the woods of Maderia tremble and shudder more at the kiss of two lovers, than at the full discharge of the thunder of Omnipotence. " Wisdom, like the natural food of man, calls for a long and as- siduous culture ; but folly, like the mushroom, springs up in a night, and spontaneously luxuriates to its motley perfection. Although every germ of folly, which lifts its head above the surface to-day, were cut down, a new harvest of tares would cover the fields to- morrow. Every moment, therefore, calls for the moralist, with his sickle in his hand, to cut down these cumberers of the ground. Sa- tire has always been in use among moralists ; and, perhaps no weapon is fitter for lopping off the little oddities of men. But every age has need of its satirists. The fools of this age turn themselves away from the whetted edge on which their brethren of the last gen- eration fell. It requires a skilful moral warrior ever at hand, there- ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 151 fore, to draw folly from all its lurking-places, meet it in all its ram- bling and blustering manoeuvres, surprise it in all its strong fortresses, and direct the sword of truth home to its breast. " Let the philosopher of morals arrive when he may, only let him take his seat high on the imperishable battlements of virtue, and cast his comprehensive eye down on the vast changing world below — let him observe its windings and shadings, the noise, the hurry, and the jostling — let him glance deep into the workings of the hu- man heart, and examine the state of pride and envy, hatred and fear, of love, joy, compassion, and hope, which inhabit there — and he will hear duty calling him to Uft up his voice, and teach the peo- ple knowledge. He will see a thousand festering vices to eradicate and a thousand languishing virtues to cherish and invigorate. Nor shall understanding put forth her voice in vain : ' The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assem- blies.' Where, then, is the moralist of the nineteenth century 1 Let him not think he is cast on a desert, or gifted with powers only to inform him that he has nothing to employ them w^ith. At what- ever time the gardener enters his garden, he sees some presumptuous branch to be lopped off, some feeble plant to be supported, some sickly flower to be watered, or some insolent weed to be eradicated. So, at whatever hour the moralist looks abroad on the human fam- ily, he sees some strong vice to be torn up ; some oddity in dress, in speech, in food, or in amusement, to be reprimanded or ridiculed out of countenance ; some latent virtue to cherish and commend ; some truth to display and enforce. The wiser and more numerous the writers on morality and decorum are, the more vigorous and exten- sive will be the spread of humanity and goodness. And happiness is the fruit of goodness, and always in proportion to it. To the man of talent innumerable modes of rendering virtue attractive, and powerful to convince, will occur. She may hover on the wings of fancy, and suddenly alight on the wandering mind. She may bor- row the garb of fable, or steal into the heart through a vision of the night. She may look with a countenance all mercy and beauty and allure us by the purity and harmony of her charms ; or she may gather her face into a frown, brandish the sword of justice in her hand, and prostrate the proud heart by the terrors of her wrath. The following from Solomon may be considered a beautiful allusion to the various ways in which virtue may be enforced :— ' Doth not wisdom cry, and understanding put forth |ier voice 1 She standeth 152 LIFE OF POLLOK. in the top of the high places, by the way in the places of the paths. She crieth at the gates, at the entry of the city, at the coming in at the doors.' " If there be yet a plentiful harvest inviting the philosopher, the historian, and the moralist, and promising them a rich reward, are there not also subjects of song and immortal wreaths tempting the poet to take hold of the harp, and fling his tender hand across the strings of harmony 1 The early poets, it is said, have taken pos- session of the most striking objects of nature, and their works are, therefore, more vigorous and sublime than those of later bards. Whether this long-received opinion may not be rather imaginary than real, there is room for dou!)t. Poets were posting themselves in the strong places of nature during thousands of years anterior to Milton ; and yet, without copying the images or thoughts of his predecessors, he confounds us with a vastness and sublimity of idea and comparison, before which almost every former poet must veil his head as the stars at the approach of the sun. Homer's heroes fling from their hands stones which two men, in the late ages of degen- eracy, could not lift. Milton's heroe's take the mountain by its piny tops, and toss it against the enemy. At the name of Shakspeare, the bards of other years fall down in deep prostration, and abjure the name of poet. In strength of expression, these two archangels in poetry stand aloft, like the star-neighbouring TenerifTe among the little islands that float on the Atlantic surge. If the verse of Milton be less melodious than that of Homer and Virgil, it is be- cause the language in which he wrote was unsusceptible of equal harmony. In like manner, were we to compare the lyric poets of modern Europe with those she produced in ancient days, the com- parison would not be so unfavourable to our own times as has been often imagined. " But were we to confine the comparison to the poets of one na- tion — were we to compare the early English poets with those of our own time, it has been often said we would lose by the comparison. * The early poet lays hold of the most magnificent objects of his own country, and leaves to those who come after him in the same na- tion the more feeble images of beauty and elegance !' Excepting a very few of the early English poets, such as Chaucer, Spenser, Shakspeare and Milton — which two last, by the bye, can scarcely be called early poets— generally speaking, it must be admitted that our primitive bards have irregularity, wildness, and extravagancje ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 153 on their side ; and, with these accomplishments, they fail not to at- tract numerous admirers. But is it not probable that many admire these qualities because they come down to them with a thousand mighty names vouching their excellence 1 But why did these men of intellectual might praise what is not now deserving praise 1 It may be easily answered, that the wise men in the ages when the early poets wrote, were pleased almost necessarily with what pleasec] the poets themselves. They had seen nothing better of the kind ; m unfavourable comparison could therefore be made. In the follow ing age there would be some who would think that wisdom perishet s with their fathers. These, seeing nothing worth commendation m their own time, would applaud what had been praised in the pre- ceding age. And these discontents might even have a name to live among the men of their day. They would, therefore, have xbllow- ers in every succeeding age, till the list would become so numerously respectable, that for one to refuse to add his name to it would be taken as a proof of his want of taste, or, perhaps, of his total des- titution of common sense. Thus every one who believes in the re- port of those who have gone before him, and who dislikes the name of fool, opens the work of an early poet with the determination not to close it, till, in spite of his own judgment, he has seen perspi- cuity in darkness, graceful negligence in stiff debility, harmony in discord, and consistency in confusion. Nor must he quit the page till he has learned to keep his countenance at the lowest vulgarity, and most shameless obscenity, which he must persuade himself is no more than honest frankness. It is necessary, also, that he dis- cover the smoothness, beauty, elegance, and consistency of the mod- ern bard to be as unfit to unite with them grandeur and vigour, as the green withes of Gaza were unfit to bind the unshaven son of Monoah. What we determine to believe is believed on little evi- dence ; and the respective merits of the early and later poets of a nation are thus settled, " In extravagance, and boldness of metaphor and allegory, there is often, no doubt, much to be admired. And in our early poets these attractions are eminently conspicuous. Take an example from Langlande, a celebrated poet, and a contemporary of Chaucer. Langlande, in his ' Visions of Pierce Plowman, or Christian Life,' makes the power of grace confer upon Pierce Plowman four stout oxen to cultivate the field of truth ; these are Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John ; the last of whom is described as the gentlest of the team.. 154 LIFE OF POLLOK. She afterwards assigns him the like number of stots or bullocks to harrow what the Evangelists had ploughed, and this new-horned team consists of Saint or Stot Ambrose, Stot Austin, Stot Gregory, and Stot Jerome. In another early English poet we find all the human intestines personified. With these and similar efforts of strength, the lovers of the bold are wonderfully regaled. " By these remarks I mean not to ridicule all or any one of the early British bards : they wrote with the skill and taste of their times. Chaucer and Spenser above their age ; and they will ever be dear to him who reads them with the feeling of a poet. Even in the works of the most perverse and absurd bards of the fourteenth, fif- teenth, and sixteenth centuries, many flowers lift their fair forms on the wide wastes of nonsensical extravagance. And I would rev- erence a spark of poetic fire should it glimmer through the crevices of the rubbish of a world. But, after all, I may be pardoned for in- dulging a smile at him, who, in the nineteenth century, with more knowledge, and better means for improving his taste, pretends to discover beauty in deformity and easy connection of parts in chaotic uproar. Poets could yet tune the harp to absurdity and extrava- gance, but who would listen 1 In the times of ignorance, nonsense was winked at. But in the day it is certainly a horrible perversity of taste to prefer the waxen apple, because, in the night, it felt as smoothly as the real fruit. ■ (Quitting this unholy comparing of poets who have done all ac- cording to the gift received, it will be sufficient to know that they have left behind them subject of noblest song, and laurels of immor- tal verdure to crown him who may be so happy as to gain the favour of the coy sisters. And I think the very nature of poetry excludes the possibility of its subjects ever being exhausted. To please, to excite interest in existence, is the aim of poetry in general. By his success in this we ascertain the poet's merit, or the 'life of life which is in him.' If he warm the aifections, delight the imagina- tion, and awe the understanding ; and if the general tendency of his work be moral, it matters not whence he choose his subject, or by what means he attain his purpose. Other writers are confined by the boundaries of truth ; but the poet has the boundless regions of fancy before him. Nearly three thousand years ago. Homer reached forth his careless hand, and pulled, from the party-colored fields, many a fair flower. Since his time, many have made ex- cursions into the wild territories of imagination, and brought home ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 155 with them abundant spoils. But her fields are rich as ever. The flowers which bloom there, though plucked to-night, will grow up ere to-morrow. Over the lav/ns of Fancy, Flora, with the rose and lily in her hand, tbrever walks ; while Zephyrus breathes soft Ufe on her cheek, and drops the dews of vegetation from his southern locks. It is not so much the subjects, however, for the employment of talent and genius, that are supposed to be exhausted, as the lan- guage for treating these subjects. Language, if we are to believe in the critics, has sold off absolutely without reserve. Before a critic can take a degree — that is, before he is licensed to condemn, if he pleases, all the productions of mind, of his own age at least — he must produce certificates that he has read all the books of note in the ancient Greek and Latin languages, and the few that are worth, reading in the tongues of modern Europe ; provided he can make affidavit, at the same time, that he understood none of them. Now, as soon as a man of genius gives a production to the world, all the critics, from the Pillars of Hercules to the mountains of Aura, more terrible than that ' Pitchy cloud Of locusts That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung,' gather round the unwary stranger ; and, as long-fasted Arctic bears gore and devour the carcass of some hapless shipwrecked seaman, so the host of critics mangle and guzzle up the infant production ; and if, in ruminating — for their first feeding is so voracious, that relishes are all alike — they taste a phrase, figure or comparison, which they ever-chewed before, the author is immediately condemned as a thief or a robber ; and theoretic punishment, and sometimes practical, awarded according to the critical offence of the crime. Of the mod- ern poet, that figure or simile is traced to Homer, or to some other of the bards beyond the dark ages. Of the historian, this elegant mode of narration is brought down from the mouth of Livy, and that brief description warmed by the fiery energy of Tacitus. So far has this lust of finding every thing in the ancients driven some of our modern critics, that when no parallel to a modern passage tinder review can be wrung from the writings of antiquity, it is proved, at least by a critic's proof, that the same plan or style would liave been adopted by some ancient, had he had the same 156 LIFE OF POLLOK. subject to treat. A very learned philological professor was heard to point out several passages in the historical works of Dr. Robert- son, in the writing of which, although no parallel exists to them in Livy, the Scotch historian saw how that illustrious Roman would have expressed himself, had he had occasion to handle the same subject. To perceive how Livy would have expressed himself on what he has left no specimen, and to know that Robertson first sup- posed how Livy would have done, and then copied the supposed manner, displays, no doubt, great perspicacity ; but the quick-sighted sometimes overlook the truth. Persian sibyls and ThessaUan sor- cerers pretended to see the shadows of coming events, which were never revealed to man ; and may not these, our retro-seers, have made some mistake in consulting the dark entrails of the past 1 Certainly no historian has written with more success than Livy ; but when we are told how he would have done, what he never at- tempted, it reminds us of the fond mother who entertains us with an account of the many attractive graces and brilliant virtues which would have characterized her son, had he not died in the cradle. That the men of genius, who lived anterior to the snaky reign of syllogisms, have left to us, their posterity, a bequest of inexhaustible value, would be unjust as well as unnatural to deny. But this, in- stead of shallowing or enfeebling the current of language, deepens and invigorates it. Language, as has been said of Dryden's genius, is strengthened by action, and fertilized by production ! A writer, in the infancy of language, is like the savage, who, embarking with his little canoe near the mountainous source of a river, is continu- ally impeded and endangered by shallows, rocks, and cataracts ; while the author, writing in the maturity of speech, may be resem- bled to the sailor, who, after the river, deepened and widened by many a tributary stream, has left the shelvy mountain, and smoothed its rugged current into an even flow, launches his stately bark, and, neither arrested by shoals nor menaced by rapids, rides along with graceful dignity. Every one who writes well leaves an inher- itance to his successor, which will enable him to write better, if his natural talent equal that of his ancestor. Milton in his ' Paradisa Lost,' has availed himself of the idiom and manner of almost every language of note ; and, by this means, he often gives a dignity and harmony to his verse, which could not have been compassed by one situated less favourably for an acquaintance with language. Had the spirit of Chaucer entered our world posterior to Dryden, the ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 157 author of the ' Canterbury Tales' would have displayed nis genius in happier shades, happy as they are. " But, says the critic, ' you must admit that allusions, figures, similes, and ideas are exhausted. We find the same ideas, figures, and so forth, in one author that we see in another. There is noth- ing but plagiarism going on now-a-days.' Nothing would be more surprising than not to find a similarity of idea, and even sometimes near coincidence of expression, in authors who write on the same or similar subjects, and in like circumstances. The ground which yielded wheat two thousand years ago, will yield it at this day if cul- tivated in the same manner ; and the wheat that waves on the mar- gin of the Thames, is not very unhke that which cheers the heart of the American husbandman. So what a Grecian thought, might be thought by another in the same age, though divided from the Greek by half the globe ; or the same thing may be thought by one placed in the Greek's circumstances, even now after Greece has ceased to think for two thousand years, '• Nor is it necessary that an author should copy figures or com- parisons, that they may be the same with those of prior writers. The same train of thinking will often lead to the same figures and similitudes. It was very customary with the ancient poets to com- pare the brave, proud, enraged warrior, rushing on his foe, to the angry lion taking vengeance on some rebel subject, or impelled by hunger to destroy. But we are not to suppose from this, that one o{ these poets copied another. The similarity of the warrior to the lion is a part of nature, and ahke the property of every one. What has been said of this comparison may be said of innumerable more. They are suggested by a similar train of thought to men in the same and in different ages. " As to the philosopher and historian, the searching and record- ing of truth is their chief aim ; and the best historians and plii- losophers are sparing of ornaments. Truth requires no trappings. But always, when a philosopher discovers a formerly-unknown truth, it will suggest something new for illustration, or some new shading of what has been used for illustration before ; and the com- parison of the historian will ever keep pace with the march of events. Every new transaction which is recorded by the historian, and every discovery which is made in science, gives another subject of allusion and illustration to the moralist and poet. How much have these two classes of writers availed themselves of the discov- 14 158 LIFE OF POLLOK. eries in astronomy 1 Every day the most beautiful allusions and comparisons are made, which could not be made at an earlier pe- riod. Milton compares the shield of Satan to the moon seen through the Tuscan glass ; but he could not have made the com- parison had he lived before Galileo. Nor could he have said, ' the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills, to be the mast Of some great admiral ; were but a wand,' compared to the spear of the arch-fiend, had he lived at a time when the sound of the axe was never heard in the forests of Nor- way. It is needless to multiply examples. " That every simile used by the poet should be new, is not neces- sary. It is sufficient that he compare or describe from his own ob- servation ; and then his work will entertain. The same idea may be represented in a hundred dresses, and yet in all be pleasing. " The following quotations from some of the most eminent poets, descriptive of the sun's rising, will confirm what we have said. " ' The morning sun,' says the royal poet of Israel, ' is as a bride- groom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race !' " Homer sings : * H^'II [iiv KpOKOTTSTr'Kos £Ki6vaT0 TTaaav in aiav.^ Englished by Pope : ' Aurora now, fair daughter of the dawn, Sprinkled with rosy light the dewy lawn.' " And Virgil : ' Oceanum interea surgens Aurora reliquit.' " And again : ' Jamque rubescebat radiis mare, et aethere ab alto, Aurora in roseis fuigebat lutea bigis.' " George Peele, an old English poet, says : ' As when the sun attired in glistering robe, Comes dancing from the oriental gate, And, bridegroom like, hurls throughout the gloomy air His radiant beams.' " In Sylvester, a poet prior to Milton, we have : * Arise betimes, while the opal-coloured morn, In golden pomp, doth May-day's door adorn.' ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 159 '■' The Bard of Paradise sings : 'Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl.' " And again : ' Now morn, Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand, Unbarred the gates of light.' *' Parnell says : * At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals, the zephyrs play ; Fresh o'er the gay parterre the breezes creep, And shake the neighbouring woods to banish sleep.' " Again : ' But now the clouds in airy tumult fly ; The sun emerging opes an azure sky.' " Nor, after all this, is the variety of description exhausted. Listen to Thomson : 'The meek-eyed morn appears, mother of dews, At first faint gleaming in the dappled east. Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow, And from before the lustre of her face, White break the clouds away ; with quickened step, Brown night retires.' " And again the same Poet of the Year : 'But yonder comes the joyous lord of day, Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud, The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow, Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach Betoken glad.' " Biirns, speaking of his Mary, tells us of his joy — ' Till too, too soon the glowing west Proclaimed the speed of winged day.' " Here the critic would cry out, ' Where is the soul that would yet attempt to vary the description of the sun's morning approach V But does Henry Kirke White, though but a boy when he died, be- tray any folly in the following lines, when speaking, 1 think, of contemplation ? — 'I will meet thee on the hill, Where with printless footstep still, 160 LIFE OF POLLOK. The morning in her buskin gray Springs upon her eastern way.' " And again * Lo I on the eastern summit, clad in gray, Morn, like a horseman girt for travel, comes, And from his tower of mist, . Night's watchman hurries down.' " The following passages bring before the mind the most sublime of all ideas — the Almighty walking on the winds and tempests. *' The two immediately following are from the Psalms of David : ' He bowed the heavens also, and came down ; and darkness was under his feet. And he rode upon a cherub, and did fly ; yea, he did fly upon the wings of the wind.' " Again: ' Who niaketh the clouds his chariot ; who walketh upon the wings of the wind.' " Virgil in the ninth Book of the .^neid, says : 'Quam multa grandine nimbi In vada praecipitant ; cum Jupiter, horridus austris, Torquet aquosam hiemen, et ccelo cava nubila rumpit.* " And Shakspeare: ' Bestrides the lazy- paced clouds, And sails upon the bosom of the air." " Pope, giving us the same idea, says : ' Not God alone in the still calm we find ; He mounts the storm, and rides upon the wind.' " And Addison : ' Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm.' '* Thomson, speaking of the wintry uproar, says : ' All nature reels ; till nature's King, who oft, Amid tempestuous darkness dwells alone, And on the wings of the careering wind, Walks dreadfully serene, commands a calm; Then straight, air, sea, and earth, are hushed at once.' " Henry Kirke White shows that the description may be yet varied : ESSAY ON ORIGINALITY. 16.1 * Stern on thy dark- wrought car of cloud and wind, Thou guid'st the northern storm at night's dead noon; Or on the red wing of the fierce monsoon, Disturb':st_the sleeping giant of the Ind.' " Again, he says: 'God of the universe ! Almighty one ! Thou who dost walk upon the winged winds, Or with the storm, thy rugged charioteer, Swift and impetuous on the northern blast, Ridest from pole to pole.' " In his ' Clifton Grove,' the same youthful poet has the follow- ing, which, although it has been blamed, has in it one idea bolder than any which I have quoted : ' Here would I run, a visionary boy, When the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky; And, fancy-led, beheld the Almighty's form. Sternly eareering in the eddying storm.' " In the subsequent passages, worth, which lingers out its days m obscurity, or excellence, cut off by untimely death, is compared to the desert flower which never smiles to the eye of man ; or to the early flower blasted by frost or tempest. Ossian, speaking of himself, sings : ' Why did I not pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on the blast ?' " Gray, lamenting the obscure fate of genius, says : 'Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. And waste its sweetness on the desert air.' " And Ogilvie, speaking of retired innocence, has these verses : 'The lily, screened from every ruder gale, Courts not the cultured spot where roses spring ; But blows neglected in the peaceful vale, And scents the zephyr's balmy-breathing wing.' " In the ' Scottish Probationer,' a lover, after telling of his mis- tress who died in all the bloom of youth and love, has these lines : 'You've seen the lily's bosom spread. Pure as the mountain- drifted snaw, 14* 162 LIFE OF POLLOK. An' sighed to see its sickly head, Amang the leaves condemned to fa'.' " And Henry Kirke White, after singing of the vanity of youthful hope, says : 'So in those shades the early primrose blows, Too soon deceived by suns and meltmg snows ; So falls untimely on the desert waste, It^ blossoms withering in the northern blast.' " The beauty of these passages will, I trust, apologize for their number, which might yet be greatly increased. And who that has a soul, which can expand to let in beauty, and grandeur, and sub- limity, would wish one of them blotted from the page of poetry 1 or who, that knows the power of a spirit warmed with celestial fire, will say that the ideas expressed in these passages, cannot be yet expressed so as to give a new, and a wider pleasure to the mind of man 7 The siccaneous critic, or the meagre scribbler, may hang down his little head in despair, and murmur out, that what can be done is done already. But he who has drunk of Castalia's fount, and listened to the mighty voice of the Parnassian Sisters ; who casts his bold eye on creation, inexhaustible as its Maker, and catches inspiration while he gazes ; will take the lyre in his hand, delight with new melody the ear of mortals, and write his name among the immortal in song." There are extant of the poet's labours during this session, eleven essays for the Natural Philosophy- class, each extending to at least four quarto pages. Besides nearly two hundred pages of notes taken from the Lectures as delivered by the Professors of Natural Philosophy and Mathematics, it is seldom that so many monuments of indefatigable industry are preserved of any student's college life. We are reminded by them of such men as Pascal, Chrichton, and Kirke White. It was during this arduous session of study that the poet changed his views regarding rhyme and PREFERS BLANK VERSE. 163 blank verse. He had always, previous to this, as- serted his preference for the former as a vehicle for poetic thought. It is probable that his early study of Pope's " Essay on Man," and the writings of Dr. Samuel Johnson, had done much to foster this taste : but maturer reflection on the subject, as well as his facility in writing blank verse, led him ulti- mately to prefer it. It was fortunate for his ov/n fame, as well as for the pleasure and instruction of the present and unborn generations, that he formed such an intelligent judgment. What would " The Course of Time " have been, if written either in the Spenserian stanza or heroic verse ? It appears that his mind was not wholly occupied with the studies appertaining to the University dur- ing this important and closing session of his course, but actually found time to write several papers for a new periodical which he contemplated publishing in the city of Glasgow — a scheme which happily for himself was not undertaken. It may be that the success of the " Protestant," by Mr. Macgaven, a few years before, suggested the idea to him. His design, however, was to combine in the periodical, useful with pleasing information. The same idea has been ably and successfully carried out in the Chambers' "Edinburgh Journal." It is a remarkable fact, that during the five ses- sions of his University course, he only formed the acquaintance of one family in the city of Glasgow. He did not even make himself known to the Rev. Dr. Muter, whose church he regularly attended. 164 LIFE OF POLLOK. Nor was he on terms of close intimacy with many of the students. Indeed, the studious cannot find time for the exchange of those civihties which are common among those who hold time at a lower premium. It was the seed-time of his life ; nor could he ever have reaped such a harvest of glory, if he had not been eminently frugal of his hours. Here ends another epoch of his life ; one, too, in which he gathered the ore and jewels out of which was wrought the diadem of his fame. Little did the Professors of the University think, that there was one mind treasuring up and expanding by their pre- lections which would intwine an unfading laurel on the brow of Scotland. One, whose harp would do more for Scotland's Religion than that of all the na- tive bards who had preceded him. " The Psalms" of George Buchanan, Hislop's " Dream of the Mar- tyrs," Graham's " Sabbath," are sacred evergreens of the Scottish muse ; nay, there is many another holy canticle which is worthy of honourable men- tion in this place, but these are all branches and sin- gle leaves of song ; — it is to " The Course of Time " that our eyes turn, when allusion is made to a national religious poem. Tannahill, Burns, Scott, Campbell, and Wilson have filled many a bower of love with their minstrelsy ; but Pollok essayed to wake the harp of holy men of old ; and the music of his song has been felt through the Christian world. As we follow him throughout his literary course, we find him either in company with the great departed master-minds of time, or standing PORTRAITURE. 165 amid the martyr haunts of Scotland communing with Heaven. Whatever position we take to look at him, he seems like an angel in the pursuit of knowledge ; and could we sketch with the pencil of a Raphael, we would give the outline of a human soul looking in through a rent veil, upon the unem- bodied mysteries which lie far within. Robert Pollok is a name dear to Scotland and the visible church= BOOK III HIS BIOGRAPHY FROM THE COMMEXCEMENT OF HIS THEOLOGI- CAL COURSE UP TO THE INCIDENT WHICH ORIGINATED " THE COURSE OF TIME." " He saw the distant tops of thought, Which men of common stature never saw, Greater than aught that largest words could hold, Or give idea of, to those who read. He entered into Nature's holy place. Her inner chamber, and beheld her face Unveiled ; and heard unutterable things, And incommunicable visions saw."— CHAPTER I. " The Christian faith, Unlike the timorous creeds of Pagun priests, Was frank, stood forth to view, invited all To prove, examine, search, investigate, And gave herself a light to see her by." The custom of conferring degrees, for literary and scientific attainments, dates back at least as far as the thirteenth century. The University of Paris, the oldest in Europe, laid the foundation of the sys- tem. There was, at first, a middle degree given be- tween the Bachelors and the Masters, called the Licentiates. The two former only have been re- tained in modern times ; and although degrees were originally given in the University to distinguish the teachers from the pupils, still, as early as the close of the thirteenth century, they were bestowed on students as marks of literary and scientific profi- ciency. Adam Smith, who graduated at the University of Glasgow, and was honoured to fill successively the chairs of logic and moral philosophy in it, discusses in his elaborate work on " The Wealth of Nations," the advantages and disadvantages of literary de- grees ; and gives it as his opinion, that they are ut- terly worthless. Still, independent of such author- 15 170 LIFE OF POLLOK. ity, the custom of conferring them has continued to obtain, and doubtless has contributed, in no small measure, to encourage young men to pursue a regu- lar University course. The higher degrees of the doctorate in laws, phi- losophy and theology, may have been injudiciously conferred at different epochs, and retiring, genuine merit, sadly overlooked ; still defection in these de- tails ought not to militate against the expediency of the principle. The question ought always to be considered in a literary light, and whether the con- tinuation or the cessation of the practice would most promote the interests of sound learning. Whatever objections may be raised against these latter degrees, few scholars are prepared to abolish those marking the college curriculum. It was the honourable am- bition of the author of " The Course of Time" to se- cure the Master's degree. It is given in the Scot- tish Universities to all students on graduating, who can pass certain examinations in philology, litera- ture, and philosophy. Nor is it possible to estimate the influence which such a desire exerted over his mind while pursuing the studies comprised in the course. We have followed the poet through two eventful eras of his existence, and now proceed to view him as occupying a higher position in the scale of mind. As Master of Arts, he had the University endorse- ment for having acquired a general knowledge of the literature and philosophy of all former ages. It must never be overlooked, that each generation only GREAT LAW OF KNOWLEDGE. 171 learns the arts and sciences of the preceding ones. The revival of letters at the close of the dark ages, was only the resuscitation and resurrection of all the former knowledge which had been buried among the rubbish of monkish ages. The son seems only to transfer the records written on his sire's mind to his own. Saturn cannot go out of his rings, so the empire of human investigation has an impassable wall around it. Two proximate generations are like two kings, — the one passes on to the other its prerogatives and sapience. Solomon no doubt re- ferred to this philosophy regarding human knowl- edge, w^hen he said, " The thing that has been, it is that which will be ; and that which is done, is that which shall be done : and there is no new thing un- der the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new ? It hath been already of old time, which was before us." Robert Pollok had be- come the owner of the literary wealth of preceding generations. In a word, he returned to his moor- land home, from the University of Glasgow, an edu- cated man. But there is growing out of this one fact wonder- ful and far-reaching results ; for an educated mind becomes a new moral centre on the earth. From it will go out thoughts which otherwise would never have had an existence. The stars are symbols of this kind of mind, each one of which radiates light over the abyss of night. Nor is this all, — star min- gles its radiance with its fellow-star, until the whole firmament often beeomes one expanse of illumina- 172 LIFE OF POLLOK. tion. So it is with educated minds. The lines of light which emanated from the minds of Homer, Virgil, Dante, Milton, and Shakspeare, have com- mingled at various angles, and are now shining in the firmament of human thought. Their ideas are like stars enthroned in the sky of the past. The present century has been rich in illuminating minds. Pollok is one of this immortal number. His mind teemed with brilliant thoughts. Moorhouse became the locality of it for a time. His " Helen of the Glen," " Persecuted Family," " Ralph Gemmell," and " The Course of Time," are only corruscations from it during its brief earthly transit. His own feelings and views, a day or two after his arrival, are unfolded to his brother, who remained behind him for a. short period in the city. " Moorhouse, May 2nd, 1822. " Dear Brother, — 1 write this letter, you see, from Moorhouse. My mind, Uke every other body's mind, is occupied about the past, the present, and the future. Yesterday, the first of Summer, was as fully fraught with heavenly benevolence as any day ever shone on me. I was free, as you know, from all studential fetters, and in the best of company, the free, cheerful, liberalized and pious. I tried to enjoy what God had given me to enjoy. I looked on the coun- tenances of my friends, caught the warm comings-forth of theix hearts, and heard their words swollen with a fulness of wish for my welfare : nor did their wishes leave their doings behind. I beheld the kind features of the sky, and cast my eyes on the variegated verdure and flowery dress of the mountain, the meadow, and the lawn. I listened to the grateful song of a thousand laverocks,* sta- tioned in the middle heavens, or turned my ear to the varied rap- tures of the grove ; and would fain have said with the poet, — ' My heart rejoiced in nature's joy.' * Larks. VISIT TO PAISLEY. 173 And there was, indeed, an occasional moment when darkness fled from my soul, and allowed it to place itself in the attitude of enjoy- ment and gratitude — the homage most reasonable and most accept- able from man to his Maker. But soon did gloominess muster back its wicked banditti, and vex my soul with its wonted engines. ' What is bread if it be locked up 1 what is the beauty of colour to the blind ? what is the chorus of heaven to the deaf? murmured I, ' or what is the bounteous glory of the morning day of summer to the penniless and unprovided scholar, fitted to know and correct the world, or weep, or laugh at it; but. alas! sadly unfitted to live in it]' ; " The question was sometimes put, and no one put it so often as myself, where was I to hve, or what was I to do for the future 'i I answered lamely, but the answer was lamest of all to myself Nei- ther my conscience nor my inclination set up a standard for me at Moorhouse. I have inquired, and am inquiring at every faculty, and power, and sense of my soul, at more than ever entered into the mind of ' Father Jardine to conceive, — what shall I do 7 The question presses itself on me, and will be answered. God direct my steps and yours. Adieu ! " R. POLLOK." A few weeks after the date of this letter, he wrote a humorous and graphic epistle to his friend Mr. Marr, in which he gave a description of a tour to the town of Paisley, the third largest in the king- dom. There was much in and around the place cal- culated to interest such a mind as his. It is identi- fied with no small amount of the history and poetry of the west of Scotland. It was long a burying- place of the ill-fated Stuarts. The tomb of Marjory is there, the beautiful daughter of Robert Bruce, and mother of Robert the Second, whose untimely death historians relate with great minuteness. The Rev. Dr. Witherspoon was settled here at the time he accepted the Presidency of Princeton College, and 15* 174 LIFE OF POLLOK. wrote here many of his best works. Alexander Wilson, the author of " American Ornithology," and who was buried with public honours in Phila- delphia, in 1813, was a native of this place. Tan- nahill, the lyrical poet, and only inferior to Burns as a song writer, was also born there. " The Braes o' Gleniffer," "The Flower o' Dumblane," and "Gloomy Winter's now awa," are known wher- ever the Scottish muse has found a welcome. Mo- therwell, the author of " Ancient and Modern Min- strelsy," resided much of his lifetime there, and added greatly to its notoriety. Professor Wilson, author of "City of the Plague," and "Isle of Palms," the Christopher North of Blackwood's Magazine, is another of her illustrious sons. The suburban country is also full of historic interest. *' Ellerslie" is near by, the birth-place of Sir William Wallace, the champion of Scotland's freedom in the thir- teenth century. The favourite residence of the unfortunate Darnley is in the vicinity. Eastwood, the parish where Mr. Woodrow was minister, the author of the "History of the Kirk of Scotland, be- tween the Restoration and the Revolution," lay in the very route of Mr. Pollok from Moorhouse to Paisley. It is highly probable that he came to look at these places famous in history and song. There are many personal matters adverted to in his letter to his friend, relating to this visit, which are not of general interest. The following selections, however, are free from this. He appears to have reached the town at an advanced hour in the night ; perhaps at DESCRIPTIVE LETTER. 175 a time when sleep descended like a mystery on the city, and silence sat monarch-like in the very mart of business. " I saluted one of the watch. He had been bom and bred in the town which he was herding. His countenance, for I could now see some, was meek and melancholy, and his whole figure would have made one think him ill-fitted to keep the foxes and wolves aloof from the fold of mankind. To this post, however, he had been destined, I suppose, by God and man ; and at it therefore he stood. As his countenance betokened, he talked to me with great civilit3^ I asked him if he was in the police about two years ago, when there was evil in the nation. He said he was, and that amid great fear and trembling. He knew that the people were oppressed and he pitied them. He had resolved, however, as well as almost all his fellows, if any serious uproar had happened, to keep by the uppermost warrior. I said to myself, ' Is this the faith of the king's men 1 Surely thy pay was small, for money answereth all things :' * it maketh a man most loyal.' I inquired into the nature of his duty, and into the whole institution of police. He had H street of considerable length to guard from the evils of the night ; and by his diligence, the inhabitants slept in peace, and their goods remained till the rising of the sun. Moreover, he was a companion of owls, and had all kinds of weather to endure ; and furthermore, he had to tell the people if it was fair or rainy, pleasant or boisterous : he had to meet often, in doubtful battle, the bloody desperado of night, of which several scars on his peaceable face gave ocular proof; and he held, too, the important office of announcing to the forgetful in- habitants the flight of time, but for which, some of them had, per- haps, mistaken it for eternity ; and on him lay also the weighty charge of watching the progress of fire, and he often saved human beings from being burned up alive : all these and sundry other bur- dens lay on the shoulders of this one being. ' You will surely,' said I, ' have a liberal pay from your townsmen ; they cannot take so much service for a mean reward.' ' My pay,' said the poor man, ' is only eight shillings a week ; and this is all I have to subsist my- self and a numerous family.' ' Why,' said I, ' do you continue with the ungrateful beings 7 The robber and thief should devour them, the fire should burn them, or they should sleep forever, ere I should M LIFE OF POLLOK. stil' myself for such a paltry reward.' The man sighed us he could ; wished he could leave them ; but there was no better j(>b to begot; and eight shillings a week, kept him and his family, al- though no more, from absolute starvation.' I now wished hiai a good night, and went on, execrating the ingratitude of man ; and although but a mole in politics, I could not help seeing the differ- ence of those who sit in the senate-house and make laws, from the poor beings who stand in the night to defend them. ' It was not so,' said I, ' in Athens and Sparta. Every Spartan, every Athe- nian was a nobleman. There, every man gave laws ; every man fought for his country ; every man could rise to the highest dignity. But this is neither Lacedemon nor Athens. This is Scotland, the land of freedom.' " I was musing in this manner, when a Golgotha, or a place of skulls, arrested my attention. It was large, and sloped towards the north. The long grass nourished by the fatness of human dust ; the sad gray stones that gave note of man's mortality ; and the red turf, still marked with the sexton's spade, were now faintly lighted up. I stood and beheld the place. How still are the mansions of the dead ! I heard no one slander his neighbour ; no one strove and jostled for the uppermost seat. I heard no din of angry theol- ogies. The Cameronian, who never prayed for his king, and the established Churchman, who never prayed for any thing else, slept in kind embrace. Nothing like ambition, hurrying on with a svv^ord in one hand and a chain in the other, was to be seen here. I heard not a single groan of slavery. I saw no people-blinding farce kept up between Whig and Tory. I saw no cumbrous pensioners strut about. No one knocked at another's door with a tax-paper in his hand. No one was dragged to jail because he told the truth ; and no one rode in his chariot because he had learned to lie. No one called slavery freedom, nor freedom slavery. None oppressed ; none complained of oppression. No angry wife drove forth her husband to drunkenness and debauchery ; no silly husband taught his w^ife to rule over him, and no dissipated one broke the heart that loved him. The widow and the fatherless mourned not that landlords had taken their all, and driven them forth to want and nakedness ] nor could I hear a single landlord say, ' What else could I do with them'? my house was my own !' I saw no fopling affect to despise the man of worth, nor twist his gaudily-caparisoned body to attract a momentary glance. No centurion girt himself from the shape of DESCRIPTIVE LETTER. 177 nature; and no clerk or soap-dealer, mimicked the costume and stifF-measured pace of the man of tactics. I could see no coquette, no fine Miss, bred to all but industry, fluttering along. No inno- cent daughter feared, and believed, and mourned, the tongue of falsehood ; no villain boasted his triumph ; and no foolish°youth turned in by the gates of destruction, I saw no table for the volup- tuary. The sons of Bacchus wrere silent. No miser hungered, and trembled, and lied, and damned himself for gold. No one held down his head because he was poor ; nor Hfted it up because he was rich. My ear perceived not the voice of fame ; my eye saw not the face of envy. No critic thirsted for the blood of genius ; no pedant rose by detraction. The bare-coated scholar of worth gave not place to the gilded head of emptiness. None praised his neighbour, that his neighbour might praise him in turn. I heard not a single man com- mend himself for virtues which he never had the power of violating; and no one took applause for avoiding crimes which he was unable to commit, or for conquering vicious pleasures by which he was never assailed. ' There is no vice, no suffering here,' said I ; 'but alas ! there is no virtue, no pleasure. No lover grows happy in the arms of his mistress. The face of friend, brightens not the face of friend. The bridegroom rejoices not over the bride. The child prattles not among the gleams of a father or a mother's love. The feast of reason is broken up. The meek eye of patience, the ever- giving hand of benevolence, the plain words and determined front of patriotism, the great endeavour to make mankind happy, have no place here. No one praises his Maker. O death, how silent is thy habitation ! And yet it is liker heaven than the busy world. ' There was silence in heaven half an hour ;' but vice never ravaged there. Death, thou art cruel to man ! But what after all hast thou made by it 1 On love, and friendship, and goodness, thou never laidst a hand ! And here I was just about to tell death that he could not kill the soul, when I recollected that I had reasoned with the gloomy king about an hour ago, and came oif victorious; and why should I triumph twice in a night 1 I looked again stead- fastly on the place of graves. Ah ! the inhabitants are quiet,' said I, ' and I shall soon be as quiet as you ; and not only I, but all the busy world, all the inhabitants of the globe, in a few years, must lie down with you ; and the worms shall devour them.' A thought like this, one might think, would slay the worldly ambition of man j 178 LIFE OF POLLOK. but it will not slay his worldly ambition. I feel it will not slay ray own, and why should I expect it will slay that of others V Mr. Pollok no doubt drew largely on his imagina- tion for this night scene. The following allusion to the death of the poet Tannahill, who drowned him- self at midnight in a fit of insanity, is thrilling and beautiful. " I now hasted away from the territories of the dead, and came to the banks of a river, which passes the town. It was the very place where a most unfortunate Scotch poet drowned himself I had read his songs with great delight. Their tender, artless sim- plicity had often touched my heart ; and a tear from my eye now mingled with the waters, while they followed those to the sea, that carried with them the last sob of the bard. ' Men were too cruel to thee,' said I ; 'thou wast too cruel to thyself! How happy hast thou made me! how miserable wast thou thyself! I never read a song of thine, but my soul is filled with nature and simplicity ; nor ever lay one by without a tear for thy fate. Genius, want, and neglect— Oh! they are ill to bear. But what has become of thy souH I will not hazard a thought. 'Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right V " He reached the residence of a friend, whom he describes with minuteness, after which his ideas took a new turn. He does not mention the author of the volume which suggested the train of reflection with which we close the extract. *• On a table beside me lay a book : it was a comment on the Revelation of John. I Ufted it and read. The commentator, like most other commentators, pretended to clear up all that was dark in his author. But, alas ! like most other commentators, too, he held his ' farthing candle to the sun ;' and when darkness came I lost him in it. Here I could not help thinking that the expositors of the Revelation of John have begun to comment without apprehend- DESCRirTIVE LETTER. 179 ing the general intent of that prophecy. They will explain it all. Now, ii" man could do this he would understand the leading events which are to befall the Church to the end of the world, as clearly as God understands them. But this is not the design of the prophecy. It is true that ' the wise are to read it ;' but they can understand it only in part. Every century makes the Revelation plainer ; and the last century of time will develop parts of it — open some of the seals, which all the ingenuity of men could never break up before. Would not wise commentators do well, therefore, thought I, to keep in mind, that although the wise are to read and understand the Revelation, they are not to understand it all yet 1 " While I was thinking thus, my mind wandered from the com- ment to the wonderful book itself ' What immortal thoughts must have swelled the breast of the prophet V said I, ' when he heard behind him a great voice, saying, ' I am Alpha and Omega> the first and the last ;' when he turned to see the voice that spake with him, and saw seven golden candlesticks : and in the midst of them, one like unto the Son of man, clothed with a garment down to the foot, and girt about the paps with a golden girdle : his head and hairs wliite like wool, as white as snow ; and his eyes as a flame of fire; and his feet like unto fine brass, as if they burned in a furnace ; and his voice as the sound of many waters ; and having in his right hand seven stars, and out of his mouth going a sharp two-edged sword ; and his countenance as the sun shineth in his strength !' What must have passed through the seer's soul, said I, when he ' saw four angeJs holding the four winds of the earth ;' when he ' saw a mighty angel come down from heaven, clothed with a cloud, and a rainbow upon his head, and his face as it were the sun, and his feet as pillars of fire ;' and heard ' when he had cried^ seven thunders utter their voices !' It was surely a great wonder in heaven, evea to John, ' a woman, clothed with the sun, having the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars !' How could he stand when he ' saw seven angels in heaven with the seven last plagues, which filled up the wrath of God !' It was a strange sight to see ' an angel come down from heaven, having the key of the bottomless pit, and a great chain in his hand ; and lay hold on the dragon, that old serpent, which is the devil and Satan, and bind him a thousand years !' And John saw too, ' the heaven and the earth pass away ;' lie saw heaven — he saw the great God sit on his throne ; he saw ' the pure river of the water of life, clear 180 LIFE OF POLLOK. as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb'— he ' heard the voice of harpers harping with their harps !' " A week or two after the date of this descriptive tour, he wrote also a letter of great length, contain- ing nearly twenty pages, to his cousin, Robert Pol- lok, giving a humorous account of the manner of conducting the examinations for the Master's degree in arts. He panegyrizes the several professors, and goes into a rhapsodical disquisition about the various classes. Nor is it without merit ; on the contrary, it exhibits the writer to be extensively read in the curious as well as the valuable and erudite works on philology, philosophy, and belles-letters. But from the numerous allusions to local matters, it cannot be of interest to the American reader. The following extract is from an address deliv- ered about the same period before a Bible society. It seems almost incredible that he could write so much in the limited space of time. It is worthy of the author of " The Course of Time," and sets forth his views concerning the evils and remedy of slavery. "No one, I imagine, is ignorant of the present great extent of the slave trade; and no one, surely, is unacquainted with the wretchedness attendant on slavery. Parliaments have assembled, kings and nobles have consulted, votes have been given, and our ears have been soothed wtth the rapturous sound. — An abohtion of the slave trade ! But this sound has never yet wandered to the pil- laged shores of Africa ; the Niger and the Senegal have never mur- mured to its dulcet cadence ; the heart of the fettered West Indian has never leaped at its approach. At this very moment, many of the sons of Europe are prowling on the shores of Africa. And al- EVIL AND CURE OF SLAVERY. 181 though all Europe has lifted up its voice against slavery, yet it either winks at those who carry it on, or is, at most, slack in the punishment of them. Thus, while we are pleased to hear slavery talked of as a thing that was, it is still walking on the earth in all its terrible, devouring, infernal deformity and rage. " Is there any one hearing me whose sympathies wish to keep company with a parent in distress 1 Let such a one look to the mother on Africa's coast. How does her heart tremble within her when a European sail rises on her view ! how does she faint away at the voice of a stranger ! She sees the hell-faced slave-dealer, more horrible than the lion or crocodile, making towards her abode. Her sons and her daughters cluster round about her, and call her mother; but her arm is weak; the agony of her countenance is unnoticed ; the voice of her prayer is unheard. The hell-commis- sioned slave-dealer, relentless as Abaddon himself, tears her children from her bosom, casts them into chains, and drives them away. And how, think ye, will she cast a last mother's look on their dear faces ! with what feelings, think ye, will her eye follow their depart- ure ! and when she stands on the dreary shore, gazing on the sail that is dragging her children to a land of suffering and murder — gazing on it till its last quiver escapes from her eye— O, who can tell her agonies ! — how will all their fond endearments rush upon her mind ! how will their everlasting loss break in upon her soul ! Ye that are parents will ye sleep over this 1 " I have kept your attention aviray from the feelings of the chil- dren : look and see ! — from their eyes gush the streams of bitterest sorrow — from their lips is heard the loudest wail of injured nature l " In the same ship, huddled together with bars of iron, may often be found the father, torn from his wife and children, the sister from the brother, the friend from the bosom of the friend, the lover from the arms of his mistress, for whom alone he wishes to live. In short, to load one vessel with slaves, all the strongest, tenderest chords of nature are burst asunder. And when these unhappy mortals are dragged forth to the prison-islands, what is their lot 1 I will not enter upon it : my heart weeps for humanity ; my soul runs back, and trembles within me : the shoulder, galled with the everlasting burden, the sweat-furrowed cheek, the sun-vexed worn- out look, gather up before my eye ; the clanking of chains comes on my ears; the never-ceasing lash mingles its deep-cutting sound ; the last groan of a brother, perishing under the hand of a brother, lin- IG 182 LIFE OF POLT.OK. gers horribly on the wind ; and the accursed look of the task-mas- ter — Oh ! who can bear it 1 " I bring not this picture before you to draw from you a tear or two, to make you fetch a sigh or two, or utter a word of commis- eration or two ; but to tell you that sojnething further must be done, if you would send slavery to the bottomless pit. Tears, and sighs, and words of pity are very humane things ; but as far as they re- gard a mother on the shores of Africa, or a chain-laden mortal in the islands of slavery, who can neither see nor hear them, they may be said, like Job's friends, to be ' miserable comforters.' God had compassion on Adam when he fell; but compassion was not all : he came down from the palace of eternity, and the voice of his ever- lasting mercy was heard in the garden, saying, that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the serpent; and ' when the ful- ness of the time was come,' God, the Son, left the right hand of Glory, and came forth, girded as a servant, to guide us on to the feast of immortality. Weep, then, over slavery ; but labour while you weep. Nothing but sending the Bible and the Gospel to Africa will ever deUver its sons from bondage. Christians may weep, and parliaments may enact ; but their weepings and their enactments will never destroy this Mammon of unrighteousness. Let the vig- orous and life-giving spirit of the Bible once enter their hearts, and the sable sons of Africa will soon be stronger than their oppressors. And at the last day, whether, think ye, it will be better to have it to tell how much money ye hoarded, how many festivals ye sat down at, how many hours of careless indulgence you enjoyed ; or to tell that ye had been instrumental in breaking an arm of oppression — in plucking out an eye from the devil-like front of slavery 1 This will find no acceptance for you with the judge ; but it is a thing that will at least tell well at the last tribunal." The following stanzas are not only beautiful, but teeming with poetic life. There is a spell about them which memory cannot resist. The slavery of Zoopah, and the anguish of the African maid, linger around the soul like the spirits of sorrow. It is a picture of slavery which the reader can never banish from his thoughts. It is probable that the monia's lament. 183 poet wrote the lines immediately after his impas- sioned address. THE AFRICAN MAID. On the fierce savage elifTs that look down on the flood, Where to ocean the dark waves of Gambia haste, All lonely, a maid of black Africa stood, Gazing sad on the deep and the wide-roaring waste. A bark for Columbia hung far on the tide ; And still to that bark her dim wistful eye clave ; Ah ! well might she gaze ! — in the ship's hollow side, Moaned her Zoopah in chains — in the chains of a slave. Like the statue of Sorrow forgetting to weep. Long dimly she followed the vanishing sail, Till it melted away where clouds mantle the deep; Then thus o'er the billows she uttered her wail : — '■ Oh my Zoopah ! come back ! wilt thou leave me to woe 1 Come back, cruel ship ! and take Monia too ! Ah ! ye winds — wicked winds ! what fiend bids ye blow, To waft my dear Zoopah far, far from my view 1 " Has our set-nuptial night fled away like a dream — Must I never meet more the love-gleam of his eye 1 Beneath yon broad palm that skirts Gambia's stream. Will he ne'er clasp my waist, and give sigh back for sigh 1 " When the white foot of Day steps over the west. And night wraps my love in the dark raving sea, No koonting will sing to the hour of his rest. So far from his mother, his sister, and me ! " And what will the cruel men do with my dear 1 Will giants devour him in dark bloody cove 1 On his neck the hard clanking of chains shall he hear, Where my arms circled once with the softness of love % 184 LIFE OF POLLOK. " Great Spirit ! why slumbered the wrath of thy clouds, When the savaire white men dragged my Zoopah awayl Why lingered the panther far back in his woods, Was the crocodile full of the flesh of his prey 1 " Ah ! cruel white monsters ! plague poison their breath, And sleep never visit the place of their bed ! On their children and wives, on their life and their death. Abide still the curse of an African maid ! " When they travel the desert where thirsty winds blow, May no well of cool water spring forth to their tongue ; In war may they fall with thtir back to the foe. And leave not a son to awake their death-song ! " Go Death ! kindly Death ! to my Zoopah away ; Leave life to the happy, and succour the slave ! Adown from this rock will I finish my day. And we'll meet in the land that looks back on the grave ! " There, unwearied we'll hunt under skies cool and clear, Through groves ever fruitful, and meads ever green ; Where no ships of the foe on the ocean appear, Nor panther, nor serpent, nor white man is seen !" She ceased ; and a moment looked wild on the deep. But nor ship nor her Zoopah the waters displayed ; Then sighing, leaped down from the tall giddy steep. And the waves murmured over the African Maid ! Although Mr. PoUok devoted many of his hours to this kind of literature, he was at the same time making suitable preparation for entering the Theo- logical Hall, which opened on the first Wednesday of August, and continued in session for ten weeks. His preliminary course he considered only as a scaf- folding, from which he hoped to be better able to THEOLOGICAL SCHOOLS. 185 look into the interior of the great temple of system- atic divinity. Protestant theolosjical schools date back to the Reformation of the sixteenth century. Prior to that period, the hierarchy had been illiterate and ir- religious for many centuries. The theology of the dark ao^es is a sad monument of this fact. The Waldenses alone had an educated clergy. Since that time, the Gospel ministry in every Protestant country has been noted for profound and varied erudition, as well as deep-toned piety. The relig- ious literature which the Protestant Church has produced since that time, is a living witness on tfiis point. The Divinity School instituted by Calvin at Geneva, has been the model, perhaps, of all poste- rior ones. It is eminently so in regard to those established in Scotland. The course of education in them is both extensive and thorough, including lectures in polemic and didactic Theology, Oriental literature, especially the languages of the Sacred Scriptures, Church History and Government, and Biblical Criticism. Besides the Divinity halls belonging to the estab- lished Kirk of vScotland, in the several college edi- fices of the kingdom, there are also those under the special supervision of the several branches of the Church not connected with the state. Great changes have taken place within a few years regard- ing these institutions. The United Secession and Relief branches of the Church have become one ; a disruption has taken place in the state Church, 16* 186 LIFE OF POLLOK. and these movements have led to new arrange- ments in the theological education of the students. The celebrated Dr. Dick was Divinity Professor in the one belonging to the Secession body at Glas- gow, and was the ''Prophet's school" where the poet pursued his regular theological course. The curriculum in the theological halls connected with the established Church, extended to a four years course, of five months attendance each year on prelections. The Secession body required a five years course, of ten weeks attendance each year. It might be interesting to discuss here the advan- tages and disadvantages of these protracted sys- tems, as well as the private system of theological instruction, were it not that it would be irrelevant. This much, however, may be added, that a body of divines have been educated in Scotland who will bear a favourable comparison with any others in Christendom. The theological treatises of Fisher, Brown, Boston, Hill, Dick, and Chalmers, with a host of others of scarcely inferior reputation, are monuments of this fact. Every memorial which has been preserved of Mr. Pollok, during the three months which he spent at Moorhouse, after graduating and before entering the Divinity Hall, exhibits the same industrial spirit as heretofore traced. There are sketches of ser- mons, pieces of poetry, and fragments of essays, for which we cannot find a place in this biography. We cannot think of hiui but as one surrounded and ministe-red to by innumerable thoughts. CHAPTER II. " Religious man ! what God By prophets, priests, evangelists revealed Of sacred truth, he thankfully received, And, by its light directed, went in search Of more." In the beginning of August, 1822, the poet passed his examinations before the United Associate Pres- bj'tery of Glasgow, as preHminary to his admission to the Divinity Hall ; and on the first Wednesday of that month entered on the regular duties of the several classes. The first homily which he delivered there, is spoken of as a curious and remarkable production. It was founded on Rom. v. 19. "By one man's dis- obedience many were made sinners." His mode of discussion appears to have been singular, nay, original. He departed out of the beaten track of theological dissertation, and expatiated forcibly on the evils growing out of the apostasy, on the whole animal tribes and instincts. The interest, and in- deed amusement of the class increased as he pro- ceeded ; nor did they conceal their feelings, but on the contrary, violated the order of the occasion by bursts of laughter and exclamations of condem- nation. The poet, however, was not to be silenced 188 LIFE OF POILOK. by such a course of conduct ; but continued with philosophic coolness to read the homily. Having reached that part of the discourse in which he sought to show what earth would have been, if the virus of sin had not polluted it ; he appeared to grow more energetic, and to rise in majesty and force accord- ing to the canons regarding the climax ; then elon- gated himself, and bending over the pulpit, with out- stretched arm and look of indignation, exclaimed, " Had sin not entered our world, no idiot smile would have gathered on the face of folly to put out of countenance the man of worth." Never, per- haps, before nor since, has there been such a rebuke administered in that hall of learning. The faces of the students were instantly crimsoned with shame, and deep silence continued until he closed his hom- ily with the significant language of Milton, " Fair patrimony That I must leeve ye sons !" It is needless to say that the class, as a whole, ex- pressed their opinion freely concerning the homily. " It was bombast and nonsense." The professor, how- ever, took a different view of it. His criticism was decidedly favourable. He approved of it. He said, " The division was textual and proper. The dis- cussion of the first two heads correct. Under the third, some things were advanced which might ad- vantageously have been omitted. It showed that the author possessed no small amount of poetical talent, which however he would advise should be more sparingly used in sermonizincr." VERSATILITY IN COMPOSITION. 189 It is impossible to tell what results might have followed on a contrary criticism from the professor. Dr. Dick, in this instance, gave encouragement to the poet, and relieved him from an obloquy, with which the students, by their injudicious remarks, had covered him. Many a young man of the most brilliant talents, has been hopelessly injured by un- just animadversion on his mental efforts. The story of the poet Keats will ever remain a melancholy monument of this truth. The suggestion of the professor was afterwards most scrupulously followed by jMr. Pollok. Nor was it difficult for him to adopt a befitting style to the subject which he was discussing. Indeed his intimate literary friends all agree, that he possessed great versatility in this particular. He was equally felicitous in nervous Saxon prose as in graphic poet- ical composition. In a philosophical essay, it was the rigid philosophical language which he employed. In a sermon it was the simple scriptural phraseology which he wrote ; and so adapting the language to the topic. His letters, essays, poems, and sermons, confirm most fully this statement. Nor is this to be wondered at, when we take into consideration that the poets whose writings he most studied, ex- celled as much in the one species of composition as in the other. Milton was a prince in prose as cer- tainly as in verse ; so were Pope and Burns. Only ten weeks of the theological year were de- voted to attendance on prelections in the Divinity Hall. The remainder of it was partly passed in the 190 LIFE OF POLLOK. country at Moorhouse, and in the city of Glaso-ow. No part of it, however, was wasted in idleness. Be- sides reading treatises on theology, studying the Scriptures in the original, writing sermons ; he also extended his inquiries in philosophy and gen- eral literature. From his note-book it appears that he read critically, the standard English poets during the year, marking their peculiarities and excellencies, with the special view of discovering the cause of that effect which they had produced on the woild; as well as to ascertain the circumstances of the writers themselves. The following summary of the fates of several of the poets shows how minutely he traced this latter position. THE BRITISH POETS. " Chaucer passed part of his life in a dungeon. Lydgate's needy complainings to Humphry, Duke of Gloucester, are loud and con- tinuous. Many of the days of James I. of Scotland were moaned away in a prison ; and, in the forty-fourth year of his age, he was cruelly assassinated. Robert Henryson wearied out a life of labour, obscurity, and penury. Sir David Lyndsay was banished from court. The Tower held in durance the body of Sir Thomas Wyatt; and too much zeal, at last, gave him an untimely victim to fever and death. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, proved the loathsomeness of a prison-house; and, in the flower of his age, was beheaded on Tower Hill. Want was the general attendant of Robert Greene ; and he died from a surfeit, occasioned by pickled herrings and Rhenish wine. Christopher Marlowe lived in profligacy, and at length had his own sword forced upon him in a quarrel at a brotheP many of his works were afterwards publicly burned. Robert South- well was dragged before councils and judges; was cast into a dun- geon, where he groaned away many years ; underwent the excruci- ating tortures of the rack ten times; at the King's Bench was con- demned to die, and was executed at Tyburn. Spenser, the fasci- DREAM ABOUT MILTON. 191 nating Spenser, died between want and a broken heart. Downe struggled long with resentful feehngs and pecuniary difficulties; and w^as not unacquainted with the prison-house. Ben Jonson, the correct, the learned, the infinitely humorous Ben Jonson, fought with poverty in his youth, and was imprisoned for murder ; de- lighted his age in the days of his active manhood ; and, in the decline of life, exerted himself under the languor of disease, wrung out the dregs of his genius, and bent down a haughty spirit to the humility of begging, that he might not meet death on the keen edge of want," The poet had a singularly felicitous dream about that time, in which the divine Milton figured con- spicuously. His admiration of this great man knew no bounds. Nor have we ever looked at Flaxman's wonderful designs of Dante's "Divina Comedia," without wishing that some great etcher would ma- terialize in lines and shade this beautiful ethereal dream. In the dream-land there were but two personages, the bard that was to sing " The Course of Time/' and the mighty Milton. The subject of conversa- tion between them w\is Milton's own works, about which Milton spoke, without ostentatious humility. His fame too was discussed ; at length Pollok asked him his opinion of ' Comus.' ' What Comus ?' in- quired Milton, apparently unmindful of that won- derful poem. ' The Mask,' responded Pollok ; add- ing, " did he not think that it was a rare produc- tion ?" ' It is a finished piece,' said the author. — At this moment Milton became more palpable and awe-inspiring, so much so, that Pollok awoke from agitation; when, of course, all was dissipated like " the baseless fabric of a vision." He often alluded 192 LIFE OF POLLOK. to the dream, saying, "that he had Milton's own authority for affirming, that the Mask of Comus was a finished piece of poetical composition." Who would venture to affirm that there is no reaUty in dreams ; and that ministering spirits never whisper in mortal ears ! Some few months before the second session of the theological hall, pecuniary wants began to make him uneasy. Economical as the arrangements were for the education of students in divinity ; still some money was necessary. Robert too, felt that his family could not conveniently spare what he needed. It was while in this dilemma that he thought of au- thorship. Hence in May 1823, he wrote in one week the beautiful and touching tale of " Helen of the Glen." The scene of the story is laid in the parish of Loudon, Ayrshire, in the vicinity of Drumclog, and immediately after the celebrated battle which was fought there in 1679, between Claverhouse on the one side, and the Covenanters on the other, and where the former was ino;loriouslv defeated. There is additional interest also given to the tale, from the fact, that the "Old Mortality" of Sir Walter Scott, '•overs the same ground and introduces the same kind of personages, but for a far diflTarent end. " Helen of the Glen," is a simple story of rural life. She was left an orphan through the cruelty of the limes, and died in early womanhood, leaving a holv memory behind. There are only three or four per- sonages introduced, who give a reality to the narra- ADDRESS ON PREACHING. 193 tive. Nor can any one read it without the tribute of a tear, and without offering up the wish of Balaam. We read it ibr the first time in 1827, near the bat- tle-ground of Drumclog, and wept over the tragic story. During the summer, the author sold the manuscript to Mr. Collins, bookseller and publisher m Glasgow, for fifteen pounds sterling. A consid- erable sum for a Sabbath school volume, and from a new author; yet small when viewed in relation to its intrinsic worth. The only subject of interest connected with his second year at the Hall, was the formation of a so- ciety of SIX, through his agency, for the purpose of discussmg weekly, subjects connected with the pul- pit. His address on Preaching, read before the so- ciety, is valuable in itself, and worthy a place here. " It is my present design, brethren, to show you that many of the preachers of the present day are in language too barren, and in doctrine too argumentative, and draw the illustrations of the tacts which they state from too narrow a field. " It would not be easy to give you a criterion by which you would in all instances, know one of the preachers to whom I have alluded! He may generally be known, however, by the following thinas : — He will rarely use a phrase the least figurative or metaphoricar He will scarcely ever venture out into the world of nature for a simile or illustration. He will speak of the beauty or grandeur of nature m general ; but he will be cautious of naming any particular val- ley, or mountain, or river, or tree, or flower, or animal. You will freo.uently hear him enter upon long reasoning to prove the truth of the most plainly-stated facts in the Bible; and thus, instead of nKiking the fact itself bear all along on the hearts and consciences of his audience, after he has reasoned away the most of his tims to prove something, the reasonableness of which appears to every one at the very first sight, or to prove something the only proof of which that can be given is—' Thus saith tlie Lord,' you will see him 17 194 LIFE OF POLLOK. forced to draw at last a few indirect inferences, as the only shift that he can try of sending the great truths of God home to the hearts of men. If you meet a preacher of this kind down in the world, and take the liberty of calHng his mode of preaching in question, he will tell you that the truths of the Gospel need no ornament to set them off; that their ornament is their intrinsic value ; that em- bellishment draws the mind away from the Gospel, the thing on which alone the mind ought to be fixed ; that to particularize too much is below the dignity of the pulpit ; that the cross of Christ is the only thing in preaching ; and that Paul was a great reasoner. " Now it is against the class of preachers who preach thus in the pulpit, and speak thus in the world, that we object ; and we object to them, because they do not thus preach and speak always for want of talent, but from principle ; and because they press their mode of preaching upon others, as the very best. " After all that I have said to characterize the mode of preaching in question, I know you can have but a very indefinite idea of what I mean by it. You will easily see, however, that this want of definiteness about the subject in hand arises necessarily from the subject itself But I trust that, by attention to what I am hereaf- ter to say, you will readily gather a distincter and more definite idea, both of the mode of preaching which I mean to censure, and of the mode which I mean to commend. " In the outset, then, I would admit the greater part of the rea- sons which the class of preachers above referred to adduce in sup- port of their manner of preaching. I believe as much as any man does, that the truths of the Gospel need no setting-off ornaments ; but I differ from the preachers in question about the meaning of the term ornament. They denominate every thing ornament, or at least attempted ornament, in speech, that sets off an idea, except in the barest way ; I call nothing ornament that gives force to the idea, or leaves it more deeply impressed on the mind. They would say abstractly, for instance, that the anger of the Lord is terrible ; I would say with Job, ' The pillars of heaven tremble, and are aston- ished at his reproof They call their way of speaking plain and natural. Job's figurative and ornamented ; I call their way of speak- ing weak and abstract. Job's particular and impressive. No one believes more firmly than I do, that the chief ornament of the Gos- pel is its intrinsic value. But then, I count the Gospel warrantable in pressing all nature into its service, and argue that every part of ADDRESS ON PREACHING. 195 nature may be so managed in preaching, that, instead of unsettling the mind, it will fix it more strongly on truth, on holiness, and on God. No one has a firmer belief than I have, that every preacher ought, Uke Paul, not to know any thing in preaching " save Jesus Christ, and him crucified ;" but I am of opinion, that to preach the cross of Christ with great and general effect, the preacher had better know much of nature and art. No one believes more than I do that the Holy Spirit can alone give efficacy to preaching ; but then I am for using all the means in our power, and seeking the operation of the Holy Spirit also. I believe that Paul reasoned much, but he stated more as ultimate facts. " Thus, you see, I condemn nothing that these preachers do ; but I censure them for something that they do not ; and I condemn them for disapproving of the addition which I would make to their mode of preaching. And all this I shall endeavour to illustrate and justify from the Bible. " First I say, that figures and metaphors, simile and allegory, and all richness of language, are sanctioned by the example of the Bible, I shall be very sparing in my quotations ; but when I make only one, had I time, I could give hundreds. " When Isaiah, the Gospel prophet, tells us of God's care of his people in trials, he says, not in the barren, precise, and correct lan- guage of the preachers to whom we have been alluding, that God will support and protect his people in every aflliction, but he repre- sents the God of Jacob as saying to his people, ' When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and tJirough the rivers, they shall not overflow thee : when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned ; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.' The same prophet, when he speaks of the effects of the Gospel, says not, like our barren preachers, that the heathen world shall be en- lightened, converted, and felicitated by it ; but he sings in strains worthy of Zion : ' The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. It shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice even with joy and sinor- ing : the glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it, the excellency of Carmel and Sharon — in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert ' Our barren preacher would say that such a city shall be destroyed, that such a land shall be laid desolate ; Isaiah says, ' Tremble ye women that are at ease ; be troubled ye careless ones ; strip you, and make you bare, and gird sackcloth 196 LIFE OF POLLOK. upon your loins. They shall lament for the teats, for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine. Upon the land of my people shall come up thorns and briers ; yea, upon all the houses of joy in the joyous city : because the palaces shall be forsaken ; the multitude of the city shall be left ; the forts and towers shall be for dens forever, a joy of wild asses, a pasture of flocks.' " We find Jesus Christ making frequent use of the objects of na- ture to illustrate his doctrines. Every one remembers that beauti- ful passage beginning with, ' 1 am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman.' " Every part of the Bible abounds with comparisons. ' The wicked spring as the grass ; the righteous shall flourish like the palm-tree ; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. My heart is smitten, and withered like grass. I am like a pelican of the wilder- ness : I am like an owl of the desert. I watch, and am as a spar- row alone upon the house-top.' " Our barren preachers, zealous for the dignity of the pulpit, are afraid to single out any object in nature. Our Saviour knew well the dignity of the pulpit, but he knew also, that the objects of na- ture were pure, and would not defile it. Hear him, in his heaveuly eloquence, saying to his disciples, ' Behold the fowls of the air : for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. And why take ye thought for rai- ment 7 Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow : they toil not, neither do they spin ; and yet I say unto you, that even Solo- mon, in all his glory, was not arrayed like one of these. Where- fore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to- morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith'?' And again in that pathetic lament, the mo.st pa- thetic that ever lips uttered, when his soft eye melted over the great metropolis of his native land : ' O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, that killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, even as a hen gather- eth her chickens under her wings, and ye would not !' '• Allegorical speaking is frequent in the Bible. I have not time to quote ; but of this way of writing, the eightieth Psalm, where the Church is spoken of as a vine and her enemies as wild beasts, and alsu the twenty-third chapter of Ezekiel and fifth of Isaiah, are memorable examples. " Of particular writing, almost the whole Bible is an example. ADDRESS ON PREACHING. 197 Prom the time that the voice of the Lord God was heard in the gar- den, saying, ' Because thou hast done this,' naming what had been done, till John, scarcely a single prophet or apostle reproves the people without ' degrading the pulpit,' as our barren preachers would call it, by dragging into the view of that people the particu- lar sins which they had been guilty of Take an example from the third chapter of Isaiah, beginning at the thirteenth verse. And when we come to the sermons of Jesus Christ, of him who 'knew what was in man,' who knew the shortest and the easiest roc\d to the human heart, we have everywhere the fittest examples of par- ticular preaching. He well knew that truths abstractly stated, however important in themselves, leave little impression on the hu- man mind. When he accuses the Pharisees, he therefore tells them that they make broad their phylacteries, that they love the upper- most seats in the s3'^nagogues, and greetings in the market. He tells Jerusalem that it killed the prophets. Every sermon of his is full of parables. The tares and the wheat, the planting of the vine- yard. Dives and Lazarus, are familiar instances. In short, I may say that our Saviour scarcely ever stated a doctrine without a par- ticular illustration; and every one knows how well calculated the illustrations of our Saviour are to arrest the attention, and make a strong impression on the mind. The single story of Dives and Lazarus, gives us a more complete and a more striking view of the general state of the wicked and the righteous, in this world, and of the awful and everlasting punishment of the one, and the everlast- ing felicity of the other, in the world to come, than whole volumes abstractly and generally written on the subject could do, " The objects of nature are certainly well calculated to raise de- votion- within us. And while the royal poet of Israel sings in the warmest and most enraptured lays of the mercy of God through Jesus Christ, he forgets not to string his harp, and gather into the melody of his song the works of nature ; and from these he often takes occasion to bless cind magnify his God. In many psalms al- most all the prominent objects in nature are named as instances of the goodness or greatness of God. The cedar of Lebanon — the dew of Carmel — even the stork and the conies are not missed. Part of the sixty-filth and of the hundred and forty-eighth Psalms I shall read. Psalm Ixv. 5-J3. Psalm ex Iviii. 1-5, " The prophet John is not afraid, in his description of heaven 17* 198 LIFE OF POLLOK. itself, to liken its objects to pure objects of nature. Revelation, xxii. 1-5. " That you may the more fully see what I mean by a barren preacher, I shall shortly state his way of speaking of the attributes of God, together with the manner in which the Bible gives us an idea of these attibutes. " The barren preacher says in his concise and neat language, ' God is eternal.' The Bible says, ' Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever thou hadst formed the earth and the world, even from everlasting to everlasting, thou art God — and, thy years shall have no end.' The barren preacher says, ' God is unchangeable.' The Bible says, • I am the Lord, I change not — the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.' Our concise- styled man says, ' God is omniscient.' The Bible says, ' The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good. I am God — declaring the end from the beginning, and from ancient times the things that are not yet done. Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, and meted out heaven with a span, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountains in scales and the hills in a balance 1 Who hath directed the Spirit of the Lord, or, being his counsellor, hath taught him 7 With whom took he counsel, and who instructed him, and taught him in the path of judgment, and taught him knowl- edge, and showed to him the way of understanding V The neat sermon-maker says, ' God is omnipotent.' The Bible says, ' All na- tions before him are as nothing. Behold, the nations are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance : be- hoki, he taketh up the isles as a very little thing. It is he that sit- teth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof are as grasshoppers ; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in. He says to the sea, ' Hith- erto shalt thou come, but no further; and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.' The lightnings say unto him, ' Here we are.'— * He speaks, and it is done ; he commands, and it stands fast.' The barren preacher says that ' God is faithful — he will do all that he has said.' The Bible says, ' God is not a man, that he should he ; neither the son of man, that he should repent • hath he said, and shall he not do it 1 or hath he spoken, and shall he not make it good V The plain divisional preacher says, that our Saviour is in- finitely merciful and kind. But thus we hear of him in Isaiah : ADUREriS ON PREACHING. 199 ' He shall feed his flock like a shepherd ; he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom : he shall gently lead those that are with young. A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench. The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me ; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek : he hath sent me to bind up the broken- hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those that are bound ; to comfort all that mourn.' The barren preacher says, that all who trust in God shall have sufficient support and protection from him. The Psalmist says, ' How excel- lent is thy loving kindness, O God ! therefore the children of men put their trust under the shadow of thy wings. They shall be abundantly satisfied with the fatness of thy house ; and thou shalt make them drink of the river of thy pleasure,' See also Psalm xci. The first, second, and third-place preachers say, that God is terrible in his wrath. The Bible says, ' He removeth the mountains, and they know not ; he overturneth them in his anger : he shaketh the earth out of her place, and the pillars thereof tremble.' " These are sufllicient to show you what I mean : and it would be an insult to your sense to ask you which of the ways of speak- ing of God's attributes gives the brightest idea of them. I could easily show how the Bible method must make the stronger impres- sion ; but it would be needless in such a society as this to take up time with the solution of so plain a philosophical question. " I shall take another opportunity of saying what I have to say of the argumentative preacher ; and shall, therefore, conclude this very imperfect address with a general observation or two. " The mind, that has once been fully convinced of the truths of the Gospel, will be pleased with the barest and most formal way of stating these truths ; but many in every numerous audience, we fear, are not Christians. Much should, therefore, be done to engage their attention : and even the Christian himself, like David, will delight in taking occasion to praise his God from the works of crea- tion, as well as from those of providence and redemption. " Every preacher ought, as much as possible, to bring into the service of the Gospel the arts and sciences. They may be often well managed for illustrating the Bible. As the obvious appearances of nature, however, are best known, and consequently best fitted for general service ; and as they are so unfeelingly and stupidly neg- 200 LIFE OF POLLOK. lected by the barren preacher, it is to them that we have chiefly turned your attention at this time. " And while we would have the preacher to be plain and simple in language — always to preach ' Jesus Christ, and him crucified' — never to lose sight of the great atonement, and the truths connected with it. we would have him, in imitation of the Bible, to bring into the service of the Gospel all the objects and ministers of nature. We would have him to give a tongue to the sun, and the moon, and every star of heaven, to speak forth our Saviour's praise. We would have him to bring forth the beasts of the forest, and cast them down to do homage at the cross of Christ. We would have him command the ocean to be silent, and listen to the ' still small voice' of the Gospel. We would have him make the four winds messengers of the word of God. We would have him make the mountain bow down to the footsteps of the Redeemer, and the val- ley rise up and meet his goings. We would have him teach the oak and the plane to spretid their shelter, and the sweet-brier and hawthorn to breathe their incense, in the lowly course of the meek and humble Jesus. We would have him teach every flower of the field — the violet, the rose, and the lily — to adorn the garden of Geth- semane ; make the ravens of heaven bring an offering to the Holy One ; and instruct the lark, and the nightingale, and every daugh- ter of heavenly song, to lift up, with man, hosannas to Him who came from the right hand of the Ancient of Days, to ' bind up the broken-hearted,' and ' to comfort all that mourn.' " I shall afterwards inquire into the cause why the barren mode of preaching is so prevalent." This essay is a ripe and rich production ; and would not be considered jejune, though written by a professor of pastoral theology. It is a sensible exhibition of the poet's piety and good sense. It shows that he had carefully studied the springs of human thought ; and the adaptation of certain kinds of preaching to the mind ; as well as the prin- ciples of scriptural teaching. It is a beautiful prose episode on preaching. CHAPTER III. " Each in himself the means Possessed to turn the bitter sweet, the sweet To bitter. Hence from out the self-same fount, One nectar drank, another draughts of gall." The correspondence of the author of " The Course of Time" is to be viewed as that of a stu- dent who is pursuing a professional course, and not that of a man ah^eady entered on the arena of pubHc action. His letters are addressed chiefly to persons constituting his own immediate family cir- cle, and embrace only the every-day topics of his own little orbit. The correspondence of Beattie, Cowper, Burns, Scott, Byron, Arnold, Simeon, Mc- Cheyne, and others, are among the richest legacies which the English language contains; but these nien have left nothing produced during their pupil state, which can be compared with the fragments bequeathed by Mr. Pollok. It is of the utmost im- portance that the reader keeps in mind the fact, that he is considering the actions and character of one, who was a student, and subjected to the tram- mels of a scholastic course. If Mr. Pollok had lived for ten years after the publication of " The Course of Time," there can be no doubt but that his correspondence during that period would have 202 LIFE OF POLLOK. been very different from what it is. There would have been letters from him, not only to the illus- trious men of his own tongue, but to the literati of Germany ; for his great poem was translated into that language in less than two years after it was issued from the press. Nay, he was designated by the journalists of that land, " The Dante of Protestantism." The admiration with which his work has met in both the continents of Europe and America, entitle us to affirm, that his correspond- ence with the literary and religious men of the two hemispheres, had he lived a few years longer, would not only have been extensive, but one of the richest budgets which any generation has produced. At the close of the theological session, in October 1823, the student brothers were separated for a time, and several of the letters which immediately follow were written during this period. David had accepted a situation as teacher in Auchindinny, a village on the banks of the North Esk, in Midlo- thian. The first is dated two weeks after they had parted. " Glasgoto, October, 28, 1823. " Dear Brother — I received your letter about an hour ago. How- eloquent is the language of a friend ! I have read accounts upon accounts of Edinburgh and its castle, but never till you transfused into me your ow^n feelings at your first sight of that ancient place of renown, did I feel the slightest approach to that changeful ex- citation of soul which its embattled towers, its hoary age, and its tragi-comic history, now stir within me. I am in raptures to see it; and really I never thought seriously and determinately of visiting it, for the very sake of seeing it, till now. You have enamoured me LETTER. 203 of the whole scenery around you, and especially of the Esk. May his waters never fail, and may he never want a minstrel to awake the harp, responsive to the cadence of his wave! for the description of his uncircumcised ruggedness hath given me a thrill of dehght which claims dearest gratitude. But 1 waste time, for you know what feelings your description must have awakened in me. " To gratify both of us, and I believe both alike, I shall come and see you as soon as possible. At present, I am engaged with Mr. Collins. The correction goes on pleasantly. The emenda- tions we make are very trifling, and, I ma}' say, always meet ray own approbation ; they are indeed, almost every one of them, made by myself I esteem Mr. Collins more, both in talent and manners, the more I am acquainted with him. A few hours, and these hours I expect of this week, will finish the correction. " I had a letter lately from Mr. Macintosh, containing an offer of his school at Cupar- Angus ; but it is terribly far north. Besides I observed, in reading lately Pitscottie's ' History of Scotland,' that there were cannibals about Angus no further back than the reign of James II. ; so I thought it was as safe wintering on this side the Tay. But, joking aside, I did debate whether or not to take the school. My health, my inclination, and an ardent desire to attempt something, spoke loudly against it ; and so I resolved, after a weaiy, horrible struggle — for I knew I was leaning on a reed that had pierced a thousand sides — to trust for bread to the exertion of my pen. Success in teaching, at such a place as Cupar-Angus, would have been failure. In my present purpose I can only fail. ' Man taketh counsel within him ; but the Lord ordereth his steps.' " I retain my old room, and must be vigorously employed ; it is necessary both to my health and happiness. Nevertheless, as soon as I am disengaged with Colhns, and have chosen and prepared a subject of cogitation — for then I can profit in all places and at all times — I shall come and see you. All this, I trust, will be very soon. You may depend I will make it as soon as I possibly can. I weary to see you. The sensations I felt that day you went away were entirely new to me. 1 could have wept, although I scarcely could say why. I lost all appetite for dinner, and regained nothing like cheerfulness till late in the evening. " Your first Ayrshire letter was expedited, and all your letters have been sent forward. Our friends are all well. The harvest is nearly in at Moorhouse. R. Pollok, farmer, was blessing you when 204 LIFE OF POLLOK. I was out, for keeping your promise of sending good weather from the east. " All your orders shall be strictly realized. You must write to .me in a week after the receipt of this, and write by post. Remem- ber I am No. 24. " Make yourself as well acquainted as you can with the history of those places in your neighbourhood which are notable for past transactions, that you may be able to point them out when I come. " R, POLLOK." About the middle of December, he visited his brother, at Auchindimiy, accompanied by their mu- tual friend, Mr. Marr. It was a tour of pleasure and information. The whole intervening region of country over which they passed, w^as rich in legend, but especially the Lothians, a district which includes the three shires of Linlithgow, Edinburgh, and Haddington. The configuration of the country too, is undulating, the hills often rising to a great height, and presenting landscapes of uncommon vastness, beauty, and grandeur. Midlothian is the Valentian district, which the ancient Romans held for about four centuries, and abounds with me- morials of that mighty people. Numerous stone coffins with giant skeletons, have been found during this century ; as well as arms, and other symbols of the Roman age. Edinburgh, which is itself a great epic poem ; or a tragedy ; or an antique history, is also in this region ; and the Pentland Hills, whose sad story, of sixteen hundred and sixty-six, is known by every one acquainted with the Martyr History of Scotland. One of the objects of that tour was to explore THE MARTYR STONE. 205 these memorable localities, and especially the east end of the Pentland Hills, where Dalziel and his troops attacked the dispirited and fatigued Cov- enanters, and massacred fifty of them. The mon- ument, or " Martyr Stone," as it is called, which is erected on the battle ground, was an object of in- tense interest to the poet. The sun had set, and the cold, dark clouds of a winter night were drift- ing along the sky, hiding the twilight and the rising moon, as the youthful travellers reached the stone, rendering the inscription difficult to be read. But the pvoet traced the letters with his fingers, and brought the record av/ay from the field of blood and legalized murder. This is one of those rare scenes, which some unborn artist will seize and pourtray ; and weave, on account of it, an evero;reen wreath around his name. Mr. Poilok had formed the plan, and parth' com- posed two tales, one of them " The Persecuted Family," which referred to the events connected with that struggle and locality. His mind and heart were alike stirred up with these memories. His brother relates, that when they had all reached his lodgings, after nightfall, the poet exclaimed, in the midst of the conversation about the eventful scenes of the day : — " It was glorious, truly glorious, after wandering during the light of day on the soft hallowed bosom of the Pentlands, to stand, in the middle of December, on their highest top, nearly \\\ o thousand feet above the level of the sea, hold- ing high converse with God, and hear the spirit of 206 LIFE OF rOLLOK. the blast drawing the curtains of night around us ; and then to come down in the sanctified field of martyrs below, surveying it by the shadowy light of the moon, shed through the slow-passing clouds, and groping, with our very hands, the stone in- scribed and set up for a memorial of them !'' The following letter was written to his brother from the modern Athens, on his return homewards. " Edinburgh, December 18, 1823. " Dkar Brother — Immediately on our arrival at Edinburgh, we found Mr. Lambie just as he was going into the theological class, His kindness and attention to us have been as vigilant as any one could expect from another. He has never left us since our arrival here till this moment. We have walked, eaten, drunken, and slept with him scot-free. Mr. Lambie lives at No. 2, Richmond Court, not far from college. He sends his compliments to you, and will be happy to see you. " On Tuesday we visited the Castle : the tomb of Fergusson, erected by Burns ; Parliament Square, in the court of which are lawyers innumerable ; Holyrood House, Calton Hill, and so on. The Castle, ' veteran hoary in arms,' to which Burns likens it, and the view of town, and country, and sea, from it, produced a most glorious feeling in our souls. No man could deline it. But a feeling that can be exactly defined is not worth the defining. Holyrood House, as a mere building, is nowise very remarkable. But when we thought how many of our kings, our Stuarts, un- fortunate things, had trod its royal courts ; led the dance in its then merry halls, brilliant with the lustre of fair eyes, whose light has long since set forever, and whose laugh of love, and kindness, and mirthfulness, had passed ere we came thither; had cracked their crack, taken their glass, planned and prospered, or had been dis- appointed there ; and especially when we considered that all these kings and lovely laughing dames, lay now mouldered into dust, we felt — I don't know what we felt — you will feel it yourself " To-day, we heard Professors Ritchie and Wilson : the last, the author, jouknow, of some famous works, attracted me much. We LETTER, 207 then visited the New Town ; and the impression it produced was exactly the opposite of the Old Town, Oh, dehghttul, deUghtfuI, most dehghtful. We then visited Leith ; it is nowise interesting. " Upon the whole, we have been highly delighted, and therefore highly pleased, with our short and wintry excursion. Could every week of our life produce as many interesting ideas and feelings with as few painful and indifferent ones, we would smile as we looked away into futurity. " To-morrow, we mean to set off for home with the one o'clock coach. We leave you our blessing, and pray all happiness to be ■with you. '• R. Pollok." The next letter was written a few days after his arrival at Glasgow ; and is worthy of one student brother to another. Every link in the chain of his history aggregates the evidence of his industrial and studious habits ; as well as his high appreci- ation of morality and religion. " Glasgow, Jan. 30, 1824, " Dear Brother, — I have been waiting these two weeks for the arrival of some things for you from Moorhouse. Some letters have arrived, but nothing else. These I send 3'ou with this. " I can send you little interesting news. You will be glad to hear, however, that our friends at Moorhouse are all well ; and so are those in the west. Young David, your nephew, is an extremely pretty child ; Robert is famed lor his profound sagacity. '• I have been in the midst of questions about you, and the coun- try around you, since I returned from Auchindinny. I am doinn- little myself. I neither read nor write poetry, for the present. Homer, which I read only for the Greek, the Greek Testament, French, and English history — these I read with some avidity. Helen is in the press. You will have a copy in a few weeks. " I hope you are persevering with pleasure in your studies. There is no fear of doing something if we have determined to do it. Reading or studying, without reading or studying for some deter- minate purpose — with some chosen and appropriated end in view — is like one walking in an enchanted labyrinth ; the more he ex- 208 LIFE OF POLLOK. erts himself, the more he is bewildered and perplexed. It is the want of this which has disgusted me at every thing, and put me out of humour with myself. Avoid this deadly vale, as full of the dis- appointed hopes, and once lotty ideas of scholars, as ever the Val- ley of the Shadow of Death was full of the bones of pilgrims. By the by, read ' The Pilgrim's Progress ;' it is the funniest and the best system of theology I know. You are enthusiastic, I know, in your love of oratory ; that is, of composing and speaking v»^ith glo- rious effect. Beware of letting it cool. Let your mind frequently turn to those objects which have a tendency to feed your enthu- siasm. Listen not a moment to any thing that would advise you from your chosen purpose, and your success is sure. " Write soon. Have you seen Mr. Lambie 1 Love to the Misses Brown. " Our brother John is named for an elder of the church. I do not know yet whether he will take the office, I think he ought as it will be another motive to him for walking in the paths of right- eousness. He has qualifications, you know, for it. " If you can get M'Neil's ' Scotland's Scaith and Waes of War,' besides seeing a fine poem, you will see some touches about Roslin Castle, the Banks of Esk, Lasswade, and so on. " How do the young ladies get on in their 'labor of love V " R PoLLOK." It appears from the next letter in the series, that his constitution was beginning to give way to his incessant mental application. No one can read the epistle without sighing over the history of the noble youth, whose aspirations were seriously affected by physical debility and pain. The house of clay could not comfortably lodge the ever restless soul. It is well that there are spiritual bodies prepared for the soul, which the long cycles of a future eternity cannot wear out. " Glasgow, reb. 11, 1824. " Dear Brother, — I hope you have received my letter of the 30th., or thereabout, of last month. The parcels which you mentioned in LETTER. 209 your last letter, were all duly received by me, and forwarded to their respective destinations. " Our friends at Moorhouse are all well. John, whom I saw to- day, says he will answer your letter soon. Young John still gives proof of more than ordinary talents ; but I doubt there will be no means taken to improve them. He has not been able to go to school during winter, and I suppose he will be needed at home in summer. But if he learn to read and write tolerably, it will perhaps do, I- should like very well, however, to see his attention turned to learn- ing ; but perhaps, it would make him no happier than it has made me: why then urge him to if? But I am talking nonsense: no one knows what course of life is best for any other. " I hope you are quite well. Health is happiness, at least I think it so. These pains still continue to hover about me. They weary my body and they weary my mind ; and in fact, so work, that that force of mind which sliould be sent abroad in the contemplation of natural and moral scenery, is, almost at every moment, attracted to the feebleness and worthlessness of myself. You are not to think that I am worse than at other times, however. I have still the hope that I shall get rid of them. Even as I am, I can scarcely say that my health is bad. Were my employment any thing other than study, perhaps I would scarcely feel any thing wrong ; but yet weary and comfortless as I often am, and disappointed as I am at present with myself, I have not yet wished, with all my heart, that I had chosen another course. " I still continue to read Greek, Latin, French, and English, This is a miserable letter ; but I shall write as good a one as I can the next time, and you know, ' angels can no more.' "R. POLLOK." It is not improbable that he took his harp in this dark hour of depression, and gave the following thoughts to numbers. It is an extemporaneous, poetical soliloquy. TO MELANCHOLY, What gloom is this that gathers round my soul, And darkens all my mental hemisphere '? 210 LIFE OF POLLUK. 'Tis Melancholy in its blackest robes. Come, then, dull power ! no longer I rebel. Ah ! I have struggled long beneath thy gloom ; And whiles my eye has pierced the severing clouds, And caught a ghmpse of day that dwells on high, Beyond the tempest, thundering, and storm ; But now 'tis solid darkness all around. I fight no more I dark power cast wide thy arms; Possess my soul entire ! nor book, nor friend, Nor muse, I summon to repel thy force. Conduct me through thy paths of utter darkness ; Through wastes unmeasured by the step of man. Where nought is heard save demons yelling loud On midnight blast; through graves and charnel houses, Where dwells the owl, companion of the dead, And pours her wail on the wide ear of night ; Where guilty ghosts, sent back from Charon's shore, With hollow groanings, fright the wandering winds. Lead me to ruins, where the hungry wolf Looks forth, and grinds his teeth ; where serpents hiss, And all the venomed reptiles festering crawl. Take me to dungeons, where wide-mouthed despair Forever pictures, to the wretch, the rope Of death, the staring crowd, the mortal fall, The naked soul before the bar of God. Let widowed mothers, naked orphans, crowd Before my mind, and let no hand be stretched To help them ; let me see them wasting down To death, or frozen to statues by the way. Let every fair whom falsehood has undone, Give all her wailings to my steady ear ; And let her tell that father, mother, friends. Have driven her out to want and fell reproach. Convey me to the straw where sickness pines 'Mid rags, and filth, and cold, and poverty. And let me see the dear and only son, Unequal struggle with the king of death. While o'er him hangs the mother, lone in grief. And bring me to the cell where madness clanks His chains, gnashes his teeth, with demon eye LINES TO MELANCHOLY. 211 Looks wild, and tells the saddest truth on earth, That lofty man has fallen below the brute. Let famine, earthquake, pestilence, and war, And every imp of woe, start up before me. And if thou mean'st, dread power! to sum my woe, Conduct me to myself; keep me at home ; Pourtray a body wasted with corroding pain, And wasted more with dark and angry thought ; A restless soul, a soul that sees what men Have done ;..that kindled at the name of all The grand in mind ; felt in itself a spark Of heavenly fire, that taught it to despise The path that leads men to oblivion ; Beheld the fields, where Flora ever walks, Scattering profuse sweet flowers of every hue, Before light Fancy's easy roving step ; And hoped to cull a flower that might have bloomed Immortal o'er my grave, and told I lived ; That fire now quenched, these fields shut from my mind, Pourtray me dark, dejected, flying thought ; Hope bidden farewell, and turned her awful back; Where'er I lean, stabbed to the very quick. Each thought a pang of woe. Do all thou canst ; But, O dark power! if thou hast mercy, hear; 'Tis midnight, and cold sweat bedrops my aching Temples, my weary heart tumultuous beats ; In mercy close my eye one hour in sleep. Consumption frequently lies dormant in the sys- tem for years, especially when there are predispos- ing causes in the constitution. Nor can any one read the following letters, who is acquainted with the closing scenes of his life, without being convin- ced, that it w^as a premonitory outbreak of this la- tent disease. " Glasgoiv, March, 5. 1824. " Dear Father,— On Wednesday last I was seized with an ia- 212 LIFE OF POLLOK. flammatory sore throat, accompanied with rheumatic affection, which produced considerably high fever. From that time till to- day, the fever rather increased ; but this morning, about one, it be- gan rather to abate ; and at the present time, which is about one o'clock noon, it still gives symptoms of abatement. From blistering, and vomiting, and sweating, which were thought necessary to stop the progress of the disease, as well as from the painful nature of the disease itself, and my entire inability to eat any thing, I have been reduced to a state of great weakness. You need not be alarmed, however, as both from my own feehngs and the opinion of a very skilful physician whom I have employed, nothing serious may be apprehended. I would have written to you sooner, but I wished to be able to say, when I wrote, that I was getting better ; and it was ^only this morning that I felt any change that way. I would be glad to see any of you; but Margaret will be most useful. " You see I have been obUged to borrow Mr. Marr's hand, not being able to sit out of bed so long as to write the letter myself. I am yours, &c., " R. Pollok." " Rose Street, Manh 19, 1824. " Dear Father,— I am getting fast well. On Wednesday I walked half an hour. Yesterday I walked a whole hour, and felt myself none fatigued. lam, indeed, getting most rapidly stout; and I think my health is much better than it was before I was taken ill. " I have sent you the Uttle book. You are not to say to any body who may see it who is the author. — I am, dear father, yours, &c., " R, Pollok." " Rose Street, March 20, 1821. " Dear Brother, — I have had a severe sickness since I wrote to you last. I was taken suddenly ill. It was fever, accompanied and followed with a violent rheumatic affection. Ten days was I closely confined to bed, and suffered much from the violence of the disease, much also from the vomiting, blistering, and sweating, ordered by the surgeons ; all of which, however, as they were ap- plied by the best medical skill, had a good effect. I was so weak that I could not stand without assistance — reduced almost to a TO AGNELLA. 213 skeleton ; but wa. never in what you would call a very dangerous state ; which was my reason for not ordering a letter to you ^. U is now eight days since I rose ; and, ' Bkss the Lord O my soul! and all tliat is within me' be stirred up to magnify and 'bless his holy name,' I am recovering my strength with wonder.ul rapidity. The fever has burned up the old constitution; and a new one is fast forming, I trust in many respects better. I am now able to walk out an hour and a half before dinner, and ea niost excellently. Indeed, my health is much better than it was before the attack. I am doing nothing yet but nursing myself " You owe Heaven gratitude on my account. And surely it must be a pleasing sacrifice to the Creator and P----^,^;-"'^^ see a brother pouring forth his soul in gratitude for a In other, so assisted and cared for as I have been by Almighty Goodness ! - Durin-r my illness I was most piously attended to by my friends Margaret came, in the fulness of unwearied attention, ministering to my comfort. Miss Campbell ---'/-^"^^^^f , ^^^^^ li.ht of heaven, glowing with infinite regard. My ff ^^^^-^^^"^^ did his countenance comfort me! John, Mrs. Pollok, Miss Janet Pollok Miss Jean, Robert, all circled around me. And even M., like the star of the morning, lovely, sweet, and glorious drew riear, and threw the gladness of innocence into my heart. My friends m Glasgow were equally attentive. Mr. Marr was the stay which God°Almi'.hty placed at my right hand. Rejoice with me, my brother. And ' bless the Lord, O my soul !' " I received your parcel of letters yesterday, and had the oppor- tunity of dispatching them all the same day. Write directly. ^^ " R. Pollok. From the peculiar train of thought in the follow- in^ stanzas, they seem to have been written durmg thts illness. The third has two images of surpass- ing beauty. TO AGNELLA. Dark is my soul like dead of night ; Yet like the night that, now and then, Sees piercing through the cloud, the light Of lovely star, soon hid again. 214 LIFE OF POLLOK. Why hide so oft, my leading star 1 Star of my life, Agnella ! rise ; Brighter to me, and loveher far, Than she who walks the morning skies. Sweet is thy light, Agnella ! sweet Thy voice, like hymn of summer eve ; Thy smile, like angels when they meet, And tell oC sinners that believe. So young, so kind, so innocent, Thy look so full of holiness ; To 'nighted earth sure thou wast sent, An earnest of celestial bliss. Thy loving, laughing, guileless eyes Ai'e like a glimpse of heavenly light : Agnella ! fairest star, arise, Arise, and look away the night. He writes thus on recovery : — " Rose Street, March 30, 1824. *• Dear Brother, — Yours of the 27th I received this morning. I have nothing to say, save that I am now well recovered, able to employ myself as usual ; and my spirits rather better than formerly. Our friends, for any thing I have heard, are all well. In the course of a week or two I shall speak of coming to see you. " R. PoLLOK," He had just completed the two tales, " The Per- secuted Family," and " Ralph Gemmell," before his attack. They were the result of his leisure hours during the winter. We have no record of his course of reading during the same period ; but from his habits and devotion to knowledge, we can- not resist the impression that he was parsimonious of his time, and brought forth intellectual fruitage every day. CHAPTER lY. " Books of this sort, or sacred or profane Which virtue helped, were titled not amiss, The medicine of the mind. Who read them, read Wisdom, and was refreshed ; and on his path Of pilgrimage with healthier steps advanced." Mr. Pollok's first active effort after this attack was to visit Edinburgh, with a view of disposing of the manuscripts of the two tales, " The Persecuted Family," and ''Ralph Gemmell." He called on several publishers, but without success. The gen- eral allegement was, that the public taste was viti- ated and could not appreciate them. Waugh & Jones, however, requested him to leave the man- uscript of " The Persecuted Family," with them for a further perusal, which he did ; but that of " Ralph Gemmell," he had the mortification to carry back with him. Before returning to Glasgow, he proceeded to Auchindinny to see his brother. He spent only a day with him, but brief as the period was, he wrote the memorable lines " On the Dying Mother," be- tween the hours of ten and twelve o'clock of that day, and at the solicitation of David. They had been discoursing about their departed sister, Mrs. Young ; her early death ; the peculiarities of it ; 216 LIFE OF POLLOK. her orphan child ; the death scene, and other cir- cumstances of the sad event. The description of the whole shows how vividly the poet recalled the scene, after the long period of nine years. But we have adverted to the lines in a former part of this biography. As soon as he returned to Glasgow, he wrote to his brother, informing him of his unsuccessful inter- view with the Edinburgh publishers, on whom he had waited. '' Glasgow, April 9, 1834. " Dear Brother, — My coming to Edinburgh has been unfruitful. The gentleman of whom I spoke did not purchase the manuscripts. They were exactly to his own taste, he said, but he was afraid they would not suit the taste of the public, which in that kind of compo- sition was horribly corrupt. I left one of the manuscripts with an- other bookseller, but have scarcely any hope that he will pur- chase it. " When a man is rolling a stone up a hill, and can get no block on which to i-est it for a little, or rather, when he is disappointed of the one at which he had fatigued himself grasping, he is in rather a forlorn case. You can apply the simile to my situation. The stone will not crush me, however ; we shall rather let it down again, although it should endanger two or three on-lookers at the foot of the hill. " You will see the happiness of having something to do, which depends not so much, as I have been doing of late, on the caprice of a present evil world. I would rather be made to ride the stang, a very severe kind of punishinent, than write to please the taste of that part of the public, whose praise, admitting we could gain it, is by no means worth the having. " My ideas are at a stand just now. Trifling as the sum of money in which I am in the immediate need of, it makes me some- what uneasy, because I do not see how I am to get it. You would be right in saying that I ought to have employed myself at some- thing whose fruit would have been sure. I should, there is no doubt LETTER. 217 of it. Well, well, I must just think a day or two, and see to make the best of a bad job. " I did not write to you from Edinburgh, because I left it with a boat at seven o'clock on Thursday evening, and I took the resolu- tion to go by it a few minutes only before we set off. 1 arrived safely about ten next morning. You may expect to hear from me in the course of two or three weeks. I believe I shall leave Glas- gow soon for the country. " R. Pollok." In little more than two weeks he wrote again to his brother, and sent the manuscript of " Ralph Gemmell," requesting him to make further efforts to sell it. " Glasgoio, April 25, 1824. " Dear Brother,— I send you with this the manuscript of ' Ralph Gemmeir which you may try to sell in Edinburgh. Brown, Waugh & Innes. and Oliphant, you need not try. Robertson, Parliament Square, try first; then, Oliver & Boyd, or whoever you may think best. If you get money offered, let it go. Ten or fifteen guineas is as much as I expect. Indeed, I do not expect you will get money offered, but you may try. If you will take the trouble to go into town on a Saturday afternoon, it will be best just to leave it till next Saturday ; but do as you please. The manuscript of ' The Per- sesuted Family,' which I left in Edinburgh, I have yet heard nothing. " After you have made all the trials you think necessary, send me an account of your labours, but not till then ; for as I am sine dcnario, I wish to have little money called for. But write to me in tlie way of friendship as often as convenient. " Our friends are all well. Our mother, indeed is not very strong, but is getting rather better. " Remember me to the Misses Brown. Thank them kindly for their attention to me when I was last there, " The time of your enjoyment will now be coming. The banks of the Logan and the Esk, will be putting on their leafy garments, and lifting up their song, tuned to the purity of nature, to invite you forth to health and happiness. Happy may you be ! The man who does his duty needs not be ptherwise. 19 218 LIFE OF POLLOK. " To avoid expenses, I will write as seldom as I can ; but when I have any thing to tell you worth a sixpence, I will write. " R. POLLOK." It is evident the poet was exceedingly anxious about the disposition of the manuscripts ; and prin- cipally on account of his pecuniary necessities. " Glasgoio, May 3, 1824. " Dear Brother, — As I have got a letter from our father, to transmit to you, 1 take the opportunity of saying a word or two on my own account. I am putting you to too much trouble, but you must excuse me. I wish you to deliver the letter as soon as con- venient to Mr. Waugh, the gentleman with whom I left the manu- script when in Edinburgh. Should he give you the manuscript, which I required him to do if he is not pleased with it, you may try to sell it from thirty to fifteen guineas. If Mr. Waugh have any other orders to me, send them. I wish you would write to me, at any rate, by the end of next week. " Mr. Marr received your letter. Have you received mine with the manuscript of ' Ralph Gemmell V " R. PoLLOK." It appears from the following letter, that he had left Glasgow with the view of residing a short time at Moorhouse. We are presented with a new phase of the poet's character ; that of preceptor. His pupils were his nephew and orphan niece. The former ten, and the other only nine years of age. It is an additional wreath in his crown of fame, that he stooped during his weeks of recre- ation, to plant these youthful minds with thoughts, and give them shape and direction. " Moorhouse, May 17, 1824. " Dear Brother, — 1 have received the manuscript from Mr. LETTER. 219 Waugh. He would tell you that it was sent away. You will write to me by the Messrs, Taylor. " I have now left Glasgow for some time; and if nothing occur to bind me to a particular spot, I shall wander, for I know not how long, over the face of the earth, and it may be the face of the sea too, Mr. Marr has gone home to his father. " I have been at Moorhouse eight or ten days. John and Janet read to me daily. They are both excellent scholars— little hurt by the here-and-ihere system of education under which they exist. John's intellectual powers, as far as they can be judged at this early period, are of the best kind. He has begun the Latin rudiments with vigour. This day he is at penna, and he will clear it off with- out a hanker. He has also begun to read in Adams's Lessons, for that is my system. But the loss is, I fear my stay at Moorhouse will be too short to do him much good. As his memory is excel- lent, it will be the less hurtful to him, however, that he be irregularly attended to. " The young ladies, I understand, are gathering about you in an exceeding great multitude to witness the examinations, I have read an author, who affirms the most of them to be ' incarnate devils,' At any rate, we know for certain that the poet Orpheus was torn to pieces on Mount Rhodope by women — an awful exam- ple to future generations ! A man may be torn to pieces on the banks of the Esk as well as on the mountains of Thrace. " R. POLLOK." There is no difficulty in detecting the Httle hero- ine of the following piece. The poet seems to have watched his little orphan niece with a parent's heart and eye, and to have entered into her joys and sorrows. There can be no doubt but that she was before his mind also in the inimitable descrip- tion of children, in the fifth book of " The Course of Time." Indeed two lines are taken from this ode. It closes in these words : — " Gay, guileless, sportive, lovely little things ! ' Playing around the den of sorrow, clad 220 LIFE OF POLLOK. In smiles, believing in their fairy hopes, And thinking man and woman true ! all joy, Happy all day, and happy all the night !" It is more than probable that the poet brought the " mimic child" and the '* go-cart" with him to Moorhouse, to pleasure the little orphan. THE CHILD. Lovely, laughing, guileless thing, Playing round the den of sorrow, Lightly as the swallow's wing, Joyous as the lark of morrow. Busking now thy mimic-child, Forward now with go-cart prancing ; Pulling here the hedge flower wild, There with honest Luath dancing. For the face of present pain. Ready is thy tear-drop seen ; Soon it falls — thou smilest again. As the tear had never been. Every moment new thy thought, Every thought as sweet as new ; Nothing lacking, fearing nought, Thinking man and woman true. Happy that thou knowest no more ! Truly happy only then ! Could I live my childhood o'er. My childhood I would live again. In the last week in May the poet, accompanied by Mr. Marr and Mr. Meikle, a poet and author at that time of no small promise, took an excursion AIRDSMOSS. 221 through the southern part of Ayrshire, travelling on foot from Mauchline to Loch Ryan in Galloway, and back again. They crossed the river of Ayr, so celebrated in song, on the confines of Airds- moss, the desolate morass, where Richard Cam- eron the preacher and person from whom the sect of the Cameronians took their name, was slain^ with his sister and several persons, in 1686, by a detachment of dragoons. The " Cameronian Stone," which points out the mortal remains of these martyrs, and which was re-lettered some twenty years ago, having become illegible, afforded occupation to " Old Mortality." It, is also immor- tal in song : — Hislop, in his " Dream of the Mar- tyrs," sings, " In a dream of the night I was wafted away To the muirland of mist where the martyrs lay, Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen, Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green." They pursued their route through the parish of Dalrymple, where the great battle was fought, in which Coilus, a king of the Britons, was slain. They lingered by the banks of the " Bonny Doon," which has become imperishable in song, and abounds with memorabilia of ancient wars. It is only about a mile from the confluence of this river with the sea, that the ruins of " AUoway's auld haunted Kirk" stand, upon an eminence of its banks. " The auld clay biggin" where the poet of " Tam O'Shan- ter" was born, is also there ; as well as the mon- 19* 222 LIFE OF POLLOK. ument which the nation, some twenty years ago, erected to his memory. As they wandered on they passed Ballachniel, the farm-house where Burns spent a few weeks in his nineteenth year, with a maternal uncle, for the purpose of attending school ; and where he fell in with " the charming fillette that overset his trigonometry, and sent him oif at a tangent from his studies." They left May bole on the right, a town famous in Scottish story, and where John Knox held the mem- orable dispute with Quintan Kennedy, the abbot of Crossraguell, in 1562. The house on whose balcony they stood and argued, was standing twenty- five years ago, and was known as the " Red Lion Hotel." The travellers almost passed in sight of the ruins of Turnbery Castle, the maternal mansion of Robert Bruce. The whole district is famous in the historic and literary annals of the land. It is the scene of Burns's " Halloween :" nor did the bard forget to honour " The Bruce" in this legen- dary lay. " Amanor the bonny winding banks, Where Doon runs, wimpling clear, Where Bruce once ruled the martial ranks And shook the Carrick spear ; Some merry, friendly, country folks Together did convene." They journeyed on leisurly by the banks of the Girvan, " the fairy haunted stream" of Burns. The scenery was most picturesque and romantic in the deep woody glens. It was summer, and the trees SUMMER ON THE GIRVAN. 223 were gorgeously arrayed in their emerald robes. The blue sky of that latitude was like a far-off in- verted cerulean ocean. Here and there floated a fantastic and gigantic white cloud before the disc of the sun ; precipitous and castellated like a celes- tial avalanche, broken loose from some world occu- pied by angels. The air was redolent with odo- riferous thymes. The lark ever and anon sprung up before them, carrying with hiui his lyre, and filling the vast concave around with his earth song. It was a glorious summer day. They stopped at Dailly, only to admire with more minuteness the beauty of the locality. This is the parish where Dr. Hill was settled when called to the professorial department of theology, in the Divinity Hall at Glasgow, a few years ago ; the son of the eminent theologian of that name. By sundown they reached the town of Girvan, their destination for the night, after a most delightful journey of some thirty miles. The village of Girvan stands at the influx of the river into the Firth of Clyde, and immediately op- posite to Ailsa Craig, a huge insulated rock, two miles in circumference, rising to the height of one thousand feet, and fifteen miles out in the sea. The tourists filled up the hours of twilight in tak- ing views of the village and surrounding scenery. Nor did they retire until the shadows of night fell over the ocean and the land, like a veil let down from the sky. In the morning they resumed their tour ; having resolved to go as far as the sliores of Loch Ryan, 224 LIFE OF POLLOK. and the source of the river Luce. They ascended Ardmillan hill, four miles from Girvan, and which was only a little way out of their course. David Pol- lok alleges that the incident referred to in the fifth book of '•' The Course of Time," took place on this occasion. Mr. Marr and the poet is said to have carried stones up the hill, and to have rolled them down from the top. This is the passage : — " And from my path I with my friend have turned A man of excellent mind and excellent heart, And climbed the neighbouring hill with arduous step, Fetching from distant cairn, or from the earth Digging with labour sore, the ponderous stone ; Which having carried to the highest top, We downward rolled." Now, there are several reasons which lead us to refer the scene here described to Balageich hill, in the immediate vicinity of Moorhouse ; and to iden- tify the friend, as Dr. Dobson, who is clearly alluded to in the passage preceding this. He was an ama- teur optician. " And I have seen a man, a worthy man In happy mood conversing with a fly ; And as he through his glass, made by himself, Beheld its wondrous eye, and plumage fine, From leaping scarce he kept for perfect joy. >; It seems improbable that the travellers would fatigue themselves by carrying stones up this hill at that time ; besides, there were three persons present, and allusion is made only to one. " The neighbour. SCENES NEAR BALLANTRAE. 225 ing hill," in " The Course of Time," was considered by Dr. Dobson, as referring to Balageich hill, the highest in the upper part of Renfrewshire. It is a thousand feet above the level of the sea, and has a prospect of one hundred miles. Here the poet and his friend. Dr. Dobson, often engaged in this very- amusement. The road at that time, between Girvan and Bal- lantrae lay along the top of the precipitous battle- ments overhanging the sea. There are no parapets to ward the traveller off from the perilous ledge. The waves make everlasting music to the ea,r, as they foam and dash several hundred feet below ; and the fresh breeze of the ocean exhilarates and braces. It is a wild and spirit-stirring pathway. In the west, amid the waters are seen Ailsa Crais: : and farther west, at the very gate of the Atlantic ocean, the Mull of Kintyre, and a peninsula of Scotland, on the one side of it ; and Ireland on the other. It is an observatory from which an angei might obtain earth-views of surpassing magnificence and sublimity. The poet and his fellow-tourists spent the next night on the top of the lofty hills south of Bal- lantrae, at a farm-house where they were kindly lodged. They extended their pilgrimage no farther than Cairn Ryan. An engagement made by the poet to meet his friend, Mr. Pollok of Buchhaven, interfered with a farther exploration of scenery. In returning they travelled several miles in sight of Loch Ryan, and up the beautiful vale of Glenapp. 226 LIFE OF POLLOK. He who would fill his mind with the rich and varied scenery of that district, must travel over it on foot. There are more positions than one, where the two inlets are visible, the Bay of Luce and Loch Ryan. There are also memorials of the ocean on the high- est part of the isthmus, pointing to a time when all that promontory was submerged. The whole scene too, is full of historic interest, which, doubtless, formed the topic of this triad. There was, only a few miles distant, the ruins of the abbey of Glen- luce, of which Michael Scott was abbot, in the days of Dante, and under which, tradition has it, still is buried his magical hbrary. -Peden, too, of holy memory, preached for years in that rude, sparsely settled, mountain tract. The family of Mr. Mc Williams, where Mr. Pol- lok lodged in Girvan, on his return homeward, re- member him yet, as a man of wonderful knowledge, and fascinating conversational talent. Who can presume to measure the influence of this short tour, on his subsequent writings. " The Course of Time" abounds with beautiful etchings of scenery and natural phenomena. We travelled over the same district of country, in our boyhood, and some year or two after this tour of the poet and his friends. In that youthful excursion we lingered for days amid the memorable scenes. We turned aside to visit every renowned spot, and mused on every hill top. We read Burns in the midst of the scenes he pourtrays, and the story of " The Bruce," with other Jays of the olden time, LETTER. 227 which we carried with us, in the localities immor- talized. It was om' privilege too, to be thrown into the society of more than one person who was rich in legendary lore. The memory of that pilgrimage is like an oasis to us, on the horizon of the past. Scarcely had the poet returned to Moorhouse, before he began to retouch the two tales, which had both been returned to him. He resolved to rewrite *' Ralph Gemmell." The manuscript of " The Per- secuted Family," however, required only a few cor- rections, which he made, and forwarded to his brother for disposal, with the following letter. " Moorhouse^ June 15, 1824. <' Dear Brother, — I received yours of June 7th in due time, I cannot return the manuscript of ' Ralph Gemmell' before the end of next week, as I intend to write it all out again. I will make several corrections, and some little additions. Your determination of burning the manuscript, rather than agree to the unworthy pro- posal of the bookseller, was worthy both of you and me. " I would not have written to you till next week, had I not, being a kind of post-office or secretary for Auchindinny affairs, had beside me some letters for you, which I have already kept too long. I take the opportunity of sending with them the manuscript of ' The Persecuted Family,' which you have not yet seen. It is longer, you will see, than ' Ralph ;' and, although chiefly designed for youth, intended for youth at a more advanced period. It may be read, perhaps, by young men. The design of the piece is, to show what powerful consolation religion can give in most unpleasing circumstances in life ; and, while it guards the mind of the reader against the bad tendency of those widely-spread books which ridicule the memories of our persecuted ancestors, to impress his mind with a veneration of their firmness, and inspire into it the ardour of their piety. You will judge whether I have been successful or not. Make what corrections you can. Leave no errors uncorrected. It has now a considerable number — 228 LIFE OF POLLOK. slips in orthography and other Httle things. It is rather badly writ- ten too ; if you have any difficulty in making out any word, score it out, and write it more plainly above. Two of the chapters want mottoes. I will send them to you with ' Ralph,' and you will write them. Give it to Mr. Robertson, along with the other manuscript when it comes. I shall mention it to him in a letter which, God willing, I shall send along with the manuscript. " I have been in the west country lately, but have no news. "R. POLLOK." The following week he wrote again, as follows : — " Moor house, June 22, 1824. " Dear Brother, — Be so kind as to give the manuscripts to Mr. Robertson. I will give them no more correction, — neither the one nor the other of them. If you can sell them as they are, one or both of them, good and well ; if not, I shall light my pipe with them. And I would far rather do this last than give them for a trifle. 1 do not look for fame from them. If they do not bring me money, then why should I print them 1 If Robertson prints them, you will perhaps correct the sheets. " I should like very well to come and see you, but I am out of travelling expenses. My father talks of coming to see you about the beginning of July. I do not say that he will certainly be, how- ever; but I am advising him, and he says he would like very much. " I expect to hear from you soon ; and when you do write, let me have some local news — something about Auchindinny. Be as short as you can on the manuscripts business, as the simple thought of them is very apt to sicken me. " R. POLLOK." While the author was in this anxious state of mind about the tales, he wrote the following beautiful and tender ode : — INVITATION. In the woodlands Love is singing, Health salutes the rosy day, INVITATION. 229 Hill and dale with joy are ringing, Rise, my love, and come away ! "Winter, with his snowy head, To his icy den has fled ; Frost severe, and tempest high, With the shivering monarch fly ; Bound in chains, with him they dwell, Far away in horrid cell. And gay Spring, in gown of green, Frisking o'er the lawn is seen — Frisking o'er the lawn and mountain, Bathing in the silver fountain, Singing in the arboured shade, And weeping tears of joy on every blade. With her forth the Graces sally, Painting flowers wiih nature's skill; Lilies dwelling in the valley, Daisies shining on the lull ; And the primrose of the glen, Far retired from haunt of men ; And the violet meek and mild, Stooping modest o'er the wild ; And a thousand flowers that grow. Where hermit-streams to reed of shepherd flow. Mirth, on tiptoe ever dancing, Leaps before the leaf-clad queen ; Joy, with eye seraphic glancing, Tripping close behind is seen. And the goddess kind to thee, Lyda ! comes in sportive glee. Health, the maid forever young, Trips the gamesome group among ; Health, that loves to see the Day Yoke his steeds on eastern way ; Health, with cheek of rosy hue, Bathed in Morning's holy dew. Sighing Zephyr, too, attends. Where her flowery footpath wends j 20 230 I^lil^ Oi' POLLOK. And from every fanning wing, Dipt in Life's immortal spring — Spring that flows before the throne Of the always-ancient One — Sheds balmy life in viewless shower, Like oil of gladness seen on herb and flower. Hark ! the sons of harmony Sing the dirge of Winter's reign : Sing a song of jubilee To the Spring returned again. Thrush and blackbird in the grove, Tune their harps to notes of love ; Tune their harps to Zephyr's sighj And the streamlet murmuring by; And the simple linnet too. With beak wet in silver dew, From the poplar's lofty pride, To its half-consenting bride Sings a song as soft and clear As Ausonia's daughters hear, When the lovesick serenade In their ravished ear is made. Deep in bosom of the wood The stockdove coos in amorous mood ; Warbling high in heaven, hark ! How the silver-throated lark, Hovering on the the roseate cloud, Anthems sings so sweet, so loud ! From the dewy hillock's side Joyous lists his honest bride. Joyous lists, or flits on high To meet her lover in the sky ; And the cuckoo, voice of spring. Surest pledge of sunshine day, Ever fanning with his wing Flora on her HIied way. Sends o'er mountain, vale, and grot, His never-changing, ever-pleasing note. liWITATlON. Lyda ! rise and come away ; Nature smiles and calls for thee. Wilt thou choose the garden gay, Or the wilderness with me, Far remote from busy life, And the angry growl of strife, And from fashion's rude control, And the tongue of slander foul ; Where the rillet travels through Waste of brown and sombre hue ; Where the canach's silken hair Lonely waves on desert air ; Where the echo of the glen Ne'er repeats the din of men ; And the hare in safety roves, And the plover sings his loves 1 Yes, my Lyda, we will go, Where the desert-streamlets flow, To the scenes where love is free, To the scenes all pure Uke thee ; Nought but holy eyes above. Looking, smiling on our love. Lyda ! there, thy eye to me May look all its ecstasy ; ^And thy swelling bosom there. As the virgin lily fair, Prest to mine in free caress, May heave forth all its paradise of bliss. 'Tis morn, my love ! 'tis morn of Spring, O'er the dew the roe is bounding; Hark ! a thousand voices sing, Hark ! Aurora's horn is sounding: And the glorious god of Day Starts upon his eastern way, And his golden ringlets fly Over vale and mountain high ; Over sleepy rock and hill, Loud cascade and gentle rill, 231 232 LIFE OF POLLOK. Leafy wood and shining lake, Flowery mead and flowery brake ; Over silent wilderness, Where modest love retires to feel his bliss. In the woodlands love is singing , Health salutes the rosy Day ; Hill and dale with joy are ringing, Rise, my love , and come away ! In the beginning of August he took up his res- idence again in Glasgow, and entered on his third session in the Divinity Hall. His first discourse during the term, was a critical discussion of 1 Peter IV. 18: — "And if the righteous scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" He devoted much time and research to the prep- aration of it. Besides the erudition which it ex- hibited, it was characterized by striking and original thoughts. The professor pronounced a favourable judgment on it. The second exercise was a sermon on 1 Thes. V. 21 : — " Prove all things." It was delivered be- fore a committee of Presbytery in Paisley : and what adds to the interest of the incident is the fact, that, every member of that committee but one, ex- pressed their disapprobation of it. Some went so far as to refuse to sustain it, in the first instance. Dr. Ferrier, however, soon gave a new colouring to the affair. He proceeded to give an elaborate crit- icism of it ; taking up seriatim, the plan, doctrine, style, and effect. Nor was there one of the com- mittee, after his lucid exposition and defence, who attempted to interpose a negative in sustaining it. UNIVERSITY DIVINITY HALL. 233 Judicatories should always judge according to intel- ligent and well-defined criteria. Nor is any one competent to sit in the judicative seat, who has not prayerfully computed his responsibility. In a week or two after the close of the Secession Hall, he enrolled himself a regular student in the Divinity Hall of the University, which belongs to the estabHshed Kirk. His object was to secure a thorough theological course ; as well as to obtain access to the large library connected with it. He wrote one sermon this first session, on Matthew v. 8. " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." Dr. Stevenson Macgill was Professor of Divinity, and stood high as a learned and able the- ologian. Previous to his entering the hall, in August, he had forwarded to his brother David the manuscript of " The Persecuted Family," to be submitted to certain publishers in Edinburgh ; and during the session re-wrote the tale of " Ralph Gemmell." Early in November he took it to Edinburgh him- self, and sold the copy wright of both to Mr. Robert- son. The following letter to his brother, gives the details. " Edinburgh, November 22, 1824. " Dear Brother, — I have completed a bargain with Mr. Robert- son, Five guineas I have received, you know. I am to receive fifteen guineas more for the two manuscripts before the middle of Januiiry. The bargain is on black and white. " Mr. Robertson is very fond I should write more for him. But God only knows what I shall do. I have written to Rev. Mr. 20* 234 LIFE OF POLLOK. Elliot, informing him that I cannot go to Ford to teach. Do you approve of it 1 " I mean to set off for Glasgow to-morrow morning. T am just now in Mr. Sommerville's inn, Grassmarket. " ' The Persecuted Family,' is pretty correct, to have had no cor- recter but a printer's reader. It has many errors, however, espe- cially in punctuation. " I shall expect to hear from you in the course of ten days. I wish you would remember me to Miss ; I mean the good one. I cannot bear the thought of being totally forgotten by her. May God be with you, my dear brother ! " R. POLLOK." These two tales have been incorporated into the Sabbath School literature of this century, both in Great Britain and America. The " Tales of the Cov- enanters," by Pollok, are almost as extensively known as the " Annals of the Poor" by Leigh Richmond. " The Persecuted Family" is a simple and unadorned story of a minister's family, which perished during the troubles in Scotland. Mr Bruce is traced from childhood onward to his martyrdom. His beloved wife, Eliza Englis, with their beautiful children, Andrew and Mary, are interwoven into his biog- raphy, like leaves and buds and flowers into a bower of love. There is no plot ; no effort at sketching. If the painter was to put the story on canvas, he would exhibit the powers of darkness vanquishing for a season, the angels of mercy and beauty. Sad indeed is the story of the Presbyterian minister ; yet, his is but the exponent of hundreds in that day. It is surprising that Mr. Pollok did not weave into this tale of " The Persecuted Family,'*' the his- tory of the seventy deposed Presbyterian ministers TALES OF THE COVENANTERS. 235 in Ireland ; and the three hundred and fifty in Scot- land, which were contemporary with Mr. Bruce. This would have been a field for his gifted pen and religious enthusiasm. But, perhaps God is reserv- ing that subject for some Pollok of this day, to rouse the British youth by it, to repudiate the Laudian movement of this quadrant of the century. The story of " Ralph Gemmell" is perhaps richer in incident and description than the former. Like the two other tales of the series, " Helen of the Glen," and " The Persecuted Family," it is that of a single family, with a larger number of persons and events crowded into it. The parents of Ralph are in comfortable circumstances. The father is a man of the world, and a friend of the Curates. The mother is pious, and a friend of the Covenanters. The two children are also unlike in their tastes. The younger imbibing the views of the father ; the elder that of the mother. When Ralph is in his fifteenth year, his mother dies. The story increases in in- terest and incident. Ralph is providentially led to a haunt of the Covenanters, but is surprised, after a visit or two, by the dragoons ; and is only saved from death by the interposition of his father. It may be enough to add, that Ralph is banished ul- timately to the Island of Jamaica, and continues in slavery till the Revolution in 1690 ; when he re- turns in time to receive his father's blessing, see his contrition, and become the heir of the family prop- erty and honours. The story is replete with relig* 236 LIFE OF POLLOK. ious interest, and nfiagnifies the grace and special providence of God. The distance between earth and the habitations of the seraphim is to be measured by the time which an angel would take to perform the journey, and not by the leagues of space between. So it is with human life ; it is the thoughts which have held au- dience in the chamber-hall of the mind, which should chronicle the soul's age, and not the mere revolu- tion of suns and moons. We hasten on, then, to the last earthly epoch of the author of " The Course of Time." BOOK IV. HISTORY OF HIS SUBSEQUENT LIFE AND DEATH ; WITH SERTATIONS ON HIS POEM AND CHARACTER. " When thus he lay, Forlorn of heart, withered and desolate As leaf of Autumn, which the wolfish winds, Selecting from its failing sisters, chase Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes, And leave it there alone to be forgotten Eternally, — God passed in mercy by, His praise be ever new! and on him breathed, And bade him live." CHAPTER I. " Yet less he sought his own renown, than wished To have the eternal images of truth And beauty, pictured in his verse, admired. 'Twas these, taking immortal shape and form Beneath his eye, that charmed his midnight watch, And oft his soul with awful transports shook Of happiness, unfelt by other men," It is eminently profitable to trace the rise and origin of great enterprises, to wander back through labyrinths, and to reach the primeval gateway. It is like an effort to discover the original sources of the Nile, and the head waters of the Niger. Is it not a suggestive and delightful exercise to trace the " Paradiso'*' of Dante to his pencil sketch of an angel ; and to find that it was his inability to set forth fully the celestial personage in colours, which induced him to utter his thoughts about it in song ? Is it not also possible to go back over the scenes and ideal realms of the " Gerusalemme Liberata" of Tasso, and detect the germ of the whole ? Is not the episode of Sophronia and Olinda an immortal portraiture of the poet himself and the divine Le- onora ? Nor is it detractive to. the mighty prince of sacred song, John Milton, to connect his " Par- adise Lost" with the suggestive poems of the Bishop of Avignon, written in the sixth century, '-' On the 240 LIFE OF POLLOK. Creation," " Original Sin," and the " Judgment." The great epic history of the " Reformation," was suggested to D'Aubigne thirty years ago, in the Square of Eisenach, at the foot of the Wartburg, on the occasion of the third centenary jubilee of the Reformation. The " Task" of Cowper had its origin in a lady's mandate ; and there is something like the relationship of parent and child existing between " The Farmer's Ingle" of Ferguson, and *' The Cottar's Saturday Night" of Burns. Now, like these and other great canticles and histories, " The Course of Time" had an origin, one too apparently accidental to the poet, — not so, how- ever to Deity ; — for it was as truly an ordained in- cipiency, as that of the acorn which the winds shake from the tree, and in the course of centuries becomes an umbrageous oak. One night, in De- cember, 1824, in the city of Glasgow, Robert Pol- lok lifted a book from his table, which happened to be " Hartley's Oratory," a collection of pieces in prose and verse. In turning the leaves over, his eye fell on Byron's piece, entitled, " Darkness," and while reading it, the idea of the Resurrection was suggested to him. On laying the book down, the plan of a poem on the Resurrection succeeded this first idea, when he suddenly seized a pen, and wrote a portion of what is the seventh book of " The Course of Time," beginning with this line : — <' In costumed glory bright, that morn the sun Rose, visiting the earth with light, and heat, And joy," CONCEPTION OF " THE COURSE OF TIME." 241 At intervals during several successive weeks, he revolved his plan; and had written at least one thousand lines, when it was thought expedient for him to remove to Moorhouse, to be near his mother, who was dying of consumption. One night shortly after his return there, while sitting alone, cogitating at midnight, the present plan of the poem suddenly burst on his mind ; a continent of thought arose and stood before him. Perhaps he had a vision like that of the angels, when they stood during the third day of the creation, on a!i isthmus of the universe, and saw the earth come forth from the abyss of waters, at the mandate of the Almighty. He said, in speak- ing of it on one occasion, that he shook with ex- citement. Nor is this strange. Who can tell what connection there was betw^een his thoughts and the seraphim encamped about him ? It may be that spirits of men made perfect, ministered unseen at the moment. It was the plan of a poem which they may have known would affect seriously the interests of the three worlds, heaven, hell, and earth. The philosophic doctrine concerning the associ- ation of ideas, derives confirmation from this origin of " The Course of Time." " Darkness" is the pro- duction of a mind, to which evidently ha,d not oc- curred the ideas of God, human responsibility, im- mortality, or the resurrection of man, during the composition of it. It presents a portraiture of a desolate and extinct world. It is such a scene as the Atheist might imagine. The very horribleness of the picture makes the Christian rejoice in the 21 242 LIFE OF POLLOK. doctrines of Revelation. Byron has succeeded in this sketch, by letting loose the spirit of destruction, who annihilates every thing. It is an equation of negative quantities. He withdraws the sun, moon, and stars ; burns up all the cities, villages, and huts on earth ; kindles and consumes in a sudden con- flagration all the forests and combustible materials of time ; and extinguishes every volcano : famine is then introduced to add to the dismalness of the catastrophe ; and the tragedy closes, by the utter and ultimate stoppage of the throbbing arteries of physical life : — '• The world was void, The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless — A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay." In all this aggregation of graphic horrors, man is placed in the same category with matter and the animal family. " The Sadducees said there was no Resurrection, neither angel nor spirit." When Pollok seized his pen, after reading the lines on " Darkness," to utter his thoughts about the Resurrection, which they had suggested, he felt as a Christian. He could not write as an Atheist. Light is changed and affected by the medium through which it passes ; so is thought by the mind where it lodges. Every page of the seventh book of " The Course of Time," which is a canticle founded on the same scene as that of '• Darkness," is illuminated by the light of Revelation. He could not assay in THE TWO BARDS. 243 song the burial of the earth, without the imagery of Scripture. " In horrible suspense all mortals stood ; And as they stood and listened, chariots were heard, Rolling in heaven. Revealed in flaming fire, The angel of God appeared in stature vast, Blazing, and, lifting up his hand on high. By Him that lives forever, swore, that Time Should be no more." Byron sung, — '' The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space, Ray less and pathless," On the other hand, Pollok, — " The sun Was wrapped in darkness and his beams returned Up to the throne of God," The Christian poet saw every thing in the light of the Gospel. The Bible cast its celestial ra- dience on every scene within the horizon of his in- tellect. " Darkness" suggested the topic ; but re- ligion enabled him to pourtray it in the rich and variegated colours of immortality. As the crimson glory of the setting sun is refracted, and rendered more immaculate by the evening cloud, so is song heightened and made more beautiful by passing through a sanctified and spiritual medium. It is easy to see how " The Course of Time" in its present form was suggested to the author's mind, 244 LIFE OF POLLOK. out of the primary idea of a poem on the Resurrec- tion. He was in the chamber of his dying mother. It was midnight. Her eyes were closed in sleep. He alone was wakeful and vigilant. He thought of the approaching decease of that mother, and of her early teachings and frequent prayers for him. Her actions lay before him like a chart. He followed her in thought through the valley and shadow of death, to the judgment, and into the house of many mansions. Life, death, eternity stood out before him. But this was the track which led him as if to a mountain height, from which he saw " The Course of Time." The Resurrection then became a mere interlude in the history of man's being, an isthmus between time gone and long eternity. " The His- tory of Man" opened up a vista, in which the awful realities of earth, hell, heaven, time, and eternity could be introduced ! The two following letters were written to his brother David, while the poem was in its incipient plan, that of the Resurrection, and before the whole scheme had been adumbrated. Like prophecy, it was first revealed in part, to his own mind. " Glasgow, January 8, 1825. " Dear Brother, — I wish you a happy new year. " I have been in Glasgow since I saw you, constantly. My health is not in a very dancing mood ; but I believe it is not much worse than men of my habits are wont to possess it. Before the new year I had about three weeks of glorious study. Soaring in the pure ether of eternity, and linking my thoughts to the everlast- ing throne, I felt the healthy breezes of immortality revive my in- tellectual nerves, and found a point, unshaken and unthreatened by LETTER. 245 the rockings and stormings of this world. Blank verse, the lan- guage of assembled gods, the language of eternity, was the form into which my thoughts fell. Some of them, I trust, shall outUve me in this world ; and nothing, I hope, shall make me ashamed to meet them in the next. Thoughts, acquirements, appendages of any kind, that cannot be carried with us out of thne into the help and solace of our eternity, but must be left the unredeemed and un- redeemable of death, are httle worth harbouring about us. It is the everlastingness of a thing that gives it weight and importance. And surely it is not impossible, even now, to have thoughts and ideas that may be transported over the vale of death, and not be re- fused the stamp and signature of the Eternal King. No doubt, the clearest eye must unscale when it comes in view of the uncreated light ; and the purest earthly thought must wash itself before it en- ter into the holy of holies on high ; but there are different eyes from those which have never tried to see, and there are different thoughts from those which must be exiled forever, beyond tlie con- fines of purity. " I was broken up at the new year, or rather a week before it ; first, by the arrival of Mr. Mackenzie, who came into the same room with me ; and then by my going to Moorhouse, when I met the Messrs. Taylor, with their sister Margaret, and also Miss Campbell. Our mother wishes me to tell you that she is in her ' silly ordinary.' The rest of your friends, in this country, for aught I know, are all well. " You will receive with this letter your gaiters and ink, which you spoke of I send you also the verses you spoke of in your let- ter. Those on ' Divine Benignity' are good only here and there, and not fit to be shown except to some uncritical brain. " 1 suppose you are still studying eloquence, and thinking of pro- ducing effect. In this pursuit it is proper to exercise and accustom the physical organs; but the grand thing is the love of virtue, ' How he should be eloquent who is not withal a good man, I see not,' says John Milton ; and how he whose mind is kindled into the love of virtue, whose circumcised fancy delights to hover around the throne of the Ancient of Days, and whose intellect, turning the leaves of man's destiny, grasps the whole interests of his time and his eternity, should choose to be aught else but eloquent, when he takes upon him to instruct and guide his fellow-men, I find not proof of 21* •246 LIFE OF POLLOK. " Mr. Mackenzie, who came to Glasgow to deliver his discourses, set off for England this morning. I am therefore left alone, and hope soon to be able to think some again. It is very precarious, however. I am still, by fits, subject to that Zaaraian wastefulness of soul that refuses all comfort, and loathes all exercise. " I mean to remove on Tuesday first, to No. 80 Surrey Street, Laurieston ; but as it is uncertain, address your first letter to me, Mrs. Walker, 6 Oxford Lane, Laurieston, and write soon. I prom- ise to answer you sooner in future. " R, POLLOK." His brother, in replying to this, took occasion to say:— " I am glad that you have ' weeks of glorious study/ and espe- cially, that your health permits you to prosecute such study. May the Eternal and Infinite Spirit inform your soul with an immortal argument, and enable you to conduct it to your own happiness in time, and blessedness in eternity ; and to His praise, honour, and glory forever and ever 1" The poet enters more fully into the nature of the subject which has charmed his harp. " Glasgow^ February 7, 1825. " No. 1 Norfolk Court, Laurieston. " Dear Brother, — I received your letter to-day, and answer it thus speedily, because I should have written before now, having beside me, rather too long, sundry letters and parcels for you. Mar- garet's answer, which has been beside me for some time, comes with this. As she writes, our father delays writing for some time, but wishes to hear from you often. I had him in Glasgow with me the other night, hale, fresh, and jocund : — he is a wonderful man at sixty-eight. He was very happy. We conversed much ; and among other things, when I told him that, from the course of think- ing and study in which I knew you to be engaged, I had no doubt that you would be more than an ordinarily useful man, if God spared you, in this world ; there was a feeling of delight on his countenance which repaid him many a trouble. LETTER. 247 "John, whom I saw to-day, would answer your letter; but he can never please himself in writing. His taste, it seems, has got before his ability to execute — a thing, by the by, very apt to happen with the learned as well as with an honest farmer — the contempla- tion of excellence being far more agreeable to the sluggish nature of man than the production of it. John, however, wishes me, with all brotherly affection on his part, and all love and prayer for you, to relate, that he and Mrs. PoUok are quite well ; and that his family, who have all had the chin-cough, are getting well through. But John has still a very severe cough, and is thereby kept from school. It is impossible to keep him within doors, or to get him under any kindly and regular nursing : for he is one of those ever- planning, ever-active, humanly-uncontrollable spirits, that Provi- dence takes under its own management; and sometimes, when common men, looking with amazement on their seemingly un- guided career, shake their ponderous heads with awful gravity, as if they saw some planet cut off from its orbit, and with fearfully erroneous adventure rushing on, ruining and ruined, accomplishes by their ministry its wonderful designs, and gives them an inheri- tance of everlasting renown ; and further, with seeming folly, far overreaches the wisdom of the wise. The many friends who have a regardful eye on John, his own generous and manly disposition, with the blessing of God, which we all pray for, will, I trust, bring him to ripe years not unhonourably. " Janet Young is with Mrs. Gilmour. She has been unwell for some time. I was out and saw her lately ; she is getting better, al- though slowly, for it is not easy to get out of chin-coughs, raeazles, and the like, with which she has been afflicted. Jane is very care- ful about her ; and I shall not neglect to see that proper remedies be applied, although I hope she will need few. Her father left Glas- gow early in January for St, Domingo : you will see that this island is within the tropics — a very dangerous adventure, therefore, for a European. David is a man well calculated for all hardship and en- durance ; and if fortune be kind — I use the word fortune, because Providence may be kind to him although he should never return, or return poorer than he went out, but fortune is considered to act kindly only when she prospers a man according to his wishes — if fortune be kind, I understand he may gain one. two, or three thou- sand pounds by his adventure.* If it be for his own and his fam- * Mr. Young died of fever six days after his landing on St Domingo. 248 LIFE OF POLLOK. ily's good, I wish he may. He is, with some failings, a very worthy man, " I have not been atMoorhouse since about the beginning of this year ; but I understand our mother is complaining rather more these two or three weeks. I need not tell you that you ought to write her a letter— and let it be in a plain hand, for which your last to me deserves praise— telling her such little particulars about yourself and your neighbourhood as you think may please her ; and not for- getting to comfort and cheer her with the substantial comforts of re- ligion. She will be greatly amused and heartened by such a letter — and age and want of health have need of comfort. " With this I send you some coffee, made of malt. It cost me only five pence, and it will serve you a long time. Foreign coffee is often mixed and adulterated. One knows what he is drinking when he drinks this ; and does not need to ask whether the wind blows from Spain or no, when he sees the bottom of his canister. I like it well, and so does Mr. Marr, We owe the knowledge of it to Dr. Dobson, a curious man you know. With a dry dinner it makes a capital beverage. " I forget now what I wrote in my last letter to you, but I gather from yours, which is in as masterly a style as any thing I have got from you, that I have been soaring above this world altogether. But surely I did not mean to leave behind me any thing pure and good. It is, indeed, always one of the petitions to the God of my fathers, that I may be greatly interested in the concerns and des- tinies of my fellow-men. " The subject of the poem in which I am engaged is the Resurrec- tion — a glorious argument ; and if that Divine Spirit, who giveth all thought and all utterance, be not offended with my prayers, it shall not be ungloriously managed. It affords me, besides giving great room to the imagination, a plan for the rigid depictment of the characters of men at that time when all but character shall have left them. I have already, much to my satisfaction, well nigh com- pleted the first book of nearly a thousand verses. When I have time, I shall send some of it for your revisal. My health stands out pretty well, although it is some days run down. " I wish you would send me a copy of the lines * On Envy ;' per- haps I may make some use of them. Let me hear from you soon ; and may the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ be your counsellor and guide. '= R. Pollqk." PROGRESS OF THE POEM. 249 The poem continues to rise before us like a tem- ple, as we peruse these letters. We see first the foundation, and then the abutments. The Hues " On Envy," written years before, and to which we have formerly referred, were recalled and introduced into the gallery of characters, whom he particularizes in the eighth book. " It was a congregation vast of men, Of unappendaged and unvarnished men, Of plain unceremonious human beings, Of all but moral character bereaved." Who would not regret to have the living picture of envy obliterated from the page of song ? What philosopher has ever more faithfully defined it ? " What made the man of envy what he was, Was worth in others, vileness in himself" It is highly probable that the following letters were written after he had conceived the poem as it now is, and after, he began to sing, — " The world at dawn, at midday, and decline ; Time gone, the righteous saved, the wicked damned, And God's eternal government approved." " Moor house, April 4, 1825. '< Dear Brother, — Our mother is very weak, and wishes me to tell you that she has little expectation of regaining health. She came into the room a few minutes ago with your letter in her hand, and wished me to tell you that she had read it all over and over again with great satisfaction. She wishes to say further, that it should be the great business of all, and especially of those who pro- fess to teach others, to set forth, in their doctrine and conduct, the 250 I^IFE OF POLLOK. loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Jesus Christ. * These,' she says, ' are most astonishing ! the tongues of men and angels will never be able to speak half their praise.' It is her desire that you may just, hke the old Apostle Paul, ' determine not to know any thing' in preaching, ' save Jesus Christ, and him crucified.' She adds, ' this is the main thing. Other things are useful ; but who- ever wants this, I am afraid, his speed will not be great. I am ex- traordinarily pleased that you both seem to be sound on this point. I cannot use words sufficient to recommend to you the loveliness, beauty, and condescension of Christ; but I have thought often about it. That the Creator should become man for the sake of sin- ners ! Surely such infinite love will never be manifested again ! Let it be the business of your hves to set it forth ; it can never be praised enough. It gives me wonderful satisfaction to think, that he' — meaning you — ' conducts himself becomingly. I wished to say this much, and it is all I have to say ; and I think it better that you write it to him, than to wait till he come. Perhaps I might not be able to say it then.' " I have given you the above as nearly as possible in my moth- er's own words. " Our mother rises generally about twelve or one o'clock noon. She grows weaker, and has little doubt that the time of her de- parture is at hand. She is, indeed, in many respects like our uncle David, a few weeks before he died. She speaks with the same composure of death, with the same warmth of redeeming love, and is very like one whom the great Forerunner will soon receive into the everlasting mansions. " She has not been able to read the copy of ' The Persecuted Fam- ily,' that I sent her. It is not the tender parts that she is un- able for, it is the religious sentiments. ' They agree so with her own, and are,' she says, 'so strongly expressed, that they penetrate and agitate her so much, that she dare not risk her weakness with the reading of them ; but has had to lay the book aside after a sen- tence or two.' " I am in the very heart of the poem, and greatly upheld. «' I am happy to tell you that all your friends here keep a lively remembrance of you. I shall say no more just now, as we expect to see you immediately. " R. POLLOK." LETTER. 251 After David hid returned to Auchindinny, from a visit to his dying parent, the poet writes again. " Moorhouse, May 14, 1825. '' Deak Brother, — I expected you to write to me when you got home to Auchindinny ; but I have heard neither hilt nor hair of you. According to the nature of things, however, I suppose you got safely home. " Our mother is considerably weaker, and more spent than when you were here. The cough is very severe ; the fineness of the weather seems to bring her no relief Indeed there is little hope of her recovery. She expects you to write to her. The rest of us are all well, " I have nearly completed a third book of my poem ; and I have been in general, able to please myself The description of the good minister I intend to send to you, when I shall have time to copy it out for you. When the present book is finished, I intend to rest a little — perhaps during the two summer months, as I find, whenever the weather gets warm, my capacity for severe thinking diminishes. I shall correct some of what I have written ; and I have, besides, two sermons to compose, one for the Presbytery and one for the Hall, which will employ some of my time. » R. POLLOK." CHAPTER II. *' Another feature in the ways of God That wondrous seemed, and made some men complain, Was the unequal gill of worldly things." From the facts brought to view in the Scriptures concerning death, there can be no doubt entertained, but that there are embassies of angels continually going up from earth to heaven with holy, disem- bodied souls. The angels, '" are they not all minister- ing spirits, sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation ?" While Elisha talked with Elijah, " behold there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder ; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven." It is even so in the death of every believer; "and it came to pass that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom." If the veil was rent which separates the visible from the invisible, and we could look within, then would we see countless throngs of seraphim, ever hurrying away from the battlements of earth with emancipa- ted spirits. The outlet from time and the inlet to eternity must be crowded with souls day and night, like the thoroughfares of an earth city when a monarch visits it. Besides, there must be caval- cades of angels swellina; the retinue of these souls. DEATH OF THE POEt's MOTHER. 253 It may be that there is added to all this circum- stance, the presence of souls long gone away from earth, who have come to meet the new arrived one ; and welcome it home to the " house of many mansions." " Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." Death to a righteous being is the first in- terlude in a celestial triumph. It is that part of it which precedes the drawing aside of the curtain. No supernatural phenomena were visible on the hills around Moorhouse, during the night of July 3, 1825 ; and yet angelic legions must have been con- gregated there, because Mrs. Pollok, the mother of the poet, finished her pilgrimage. She died as the Christian alone can do, and for her "to die was gain." She ran " with patience the race set before her," and was taken away to have her name en- rolled amid " the great cloud of witnesses." Her memory is immortal : her illustrious son affirmed, after he had written " The Course of Time," that "it was only an embodiment of his mother's theol- ogy." She is worthy of a place in the same galaxy of matrons with Hagar, Hannah, Lois, and Eunice. The following letter, written to the absent son and brother by the poet, immediately after her departure, shows that she was another trophy of grace. " MoorJwuse, July 4, 1825. " Dear Brother,— Last night, a few minutes before midnight, our dear mother departed this life. I can at present give you no particulars. I may only say, that she died in ' the full assurance of hope,' closing her eyes with as much calmness and composure as 22 254 LIFE OF POLLOK. ever she did in the days of her health. The funeral is appointed for Tuesday the 8th current. But v/s expect you to come off as soon as you receiv^e this note. " R. Pollok." Four days after her decease, her husband, sons and kindred " carried her to her burial," in the vil- lage graveyard, where, in 1828, we saw the green grass waving over her grave. As the ashes of the poet have been permitted to sleep in England ; and as this lone graveyard would doubtless have been his place of sepulture, if he had died at Moorhouse ; would it not be discharging a bounden duty, for his country to erect a suitable monument to his memory over the remains of his mother, and inscribe on one side of it, — TO MARGARET, THE MOTHER AND THEOLOGICAL TEACHER OF ROBERT POLLOK. In the month of August which followed the death of this gifted and pious mother, Robert entered on his fourth session, in the Secession Theological Hall ; attending also in the succeeding winter, a second session in the Divinity Hall connected with the University. It was during this session in the Secession Divinity Hall that the two portraits of PORTRAITS OF DOCTOR DICK. 255 Dr. Dick were taken, at the solicitation of the stu- dents. The one by George Watson, of Edniburgh and the other by Chester Harding, an American artist. The poet's criticism of these pictures will not soon be forgotten. " The former one," he said, " brought out the hterary character of the professor, and was hker what he appeared in the Hall ; the other was better adapted for the domestic circle." They are both elegant specimens of art. Dr. Dick received his degree of Doctor of Divinity from the college of Princeton, in 1815, ten years prior to this event. He is well known in this country, not only for his lectures " On Theology," and " On The Acts of the Apostles," but also for his essays " On the Necessity of Confessions of Faith," and " On Inspi- ration." In the interval between the close of the session of the Secession Divinity Hall, and the commence- ment of the other, the poet, his brother, and two other theological students, one of whom was Mr. Borthwick, now a member of the British Parliament, took an excursion to Loch Lomond ; — the most beautiful and varied in scenery of all the Scottish lakes. It is the reservoir of a large number of streamlets, and over its surface of thirty square miles, are sprinkled as many islets. A poet who describes them, says, — " The fairy crowds Of islands which together he, As quietly as spots of sky, Among the evening clouds." 256 LIFE OF POLLOK. Smollet has consecrated in undying verse, the outlet of this most picturesque lake, in his exquisite " Ode to Leven Water." Mr. Pollok and his friends visited every locality in the immediate region. They ascended and stood on the top of " The Lofty Ben- lomond," the choicest position for a magnificent view of the lake and its islands ; nor came away until the wild grandeur of the scene had woven itself into their trains of thought. In a nook of the cabin of the steamboat, which conveyed them back to Glas- gow, on the bosom of the Clyde, they grouped to- gether and delivered in turn a short speech, as an exponent of the feelings produced by the sublime and awe-inspiring grandeur of nature. The speech of the poet, on this occasion, described in vivid colouring the magnificent phenomena which they had seen, — then adverted to the feelings which the scenery produced in his bosom. Here he turned aside to notice the necessity of high mental power, to comprehend and embody in language such august objects and scenes. He became eloquent and phi- losophical as he proceeded to sketch a portrait of in- tellectual greatness. He showed that it was essen- tial to greatness that the mind should stoop to set forth a subject, rather than struggle to grasp it. On sitting down, his brother hinted to him, that the views which he had advanced were original and valuable, and ought to be carefully treasured up for future use. It is interesting to know that these thoughts were the original germ of his description of Byron, in the GERM OF THE DESCRIPTION OF BYRON. 257 end of the fourth book of the Poem. His high theme in " The Course of Time," led him to sing of intellectual greatness. To do this effectively, he selected a single mind. The thoughts uttered in reference to his visit to Loch Lomond, instantly came up, " And sought admission in his song ;" the wild scenery of the place naturally suggested Byron, who had been nurtured in the vicinity of the wilder and more rugged regions of " Lochnagar.'* It is probable that the lines of the bard of " Childe Harold," concerning Braemar, occured to him : " Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses ! In you let the minions of luxury rove ; Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes. Though still they are sacred to freedom and love : Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, Around their white summits though elements war ; Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch-na-Gar, " Ah ! there my young footsteps in infancy wandered." It requires no rigid analysis to detect every suc- cinct step in Mr. Pollok's train of reflection. Ben Lomond and Lochnagar were as relative terms in his mind. The one suggested the other ; but Loch- nagar can never be thought of without the name of Byron. Hence the facility with which he is intro- duced into " The Course of Time :" •' Take one example, to our purpose quite A man of rank, and of capricious soul. 22* 258 LIFE OF POLLOK. Who riches had, and fame, beyond desire, An heir of flattery, to titles born, And reputation, and luxurious life." After much description of his character and habits, the following beautiful and graphic lines occur : — " With nature's self He seemed an old acquaintance, free to jest At will with all her glorious majesty. He laid his hand upon ' the ocean's mane,' And played familiar with his hoary locks." It is probable that every valuable train of reflec- tion is indissolubly conjoined to some preceding mental state. There are but four processes, or steps in the train of reflection which produced this famous portraiture of Byron. There is first, the idea of intellectual greatness ; second, that of Ben Lomond; third, that of Lochnagar ; and fourth, Byron. Here the succession of ideas is as clearly distinguishable as the banners in a triumphal pro- cession. The following letter exhibits the perturbed and perplexed state of Mr. Pollok's mind immediately after this excursion. " Glasgoio, Nov. 14, 1825. " Dear Brother, — You will think me long in writing, but the cause was that till within these few days I had nothing to write. I spent my time after you left us in a state of distressing hesitation. Whether to stay at Moorhous^e or go to Glasgow, whether to write something for immediate sale, or enter upon my old subject — these contrarieties perplexed me. But strong inclination and irresistible, LETTER. 259 determined me to my former pursuit. Thoughts poured in on all quarters, and I have had a week's most prosperous study. This is likely to be the last winter that I shall have so much freedom ; and I thought it best to have as much of my poem done as possible. What is too long laid aside is apt to be forgotten. Besides, I con- sider it as a great duty before me, and I am most desirous to have it accomplished. This determination decides the other difficulty — I must remain at Moorhouse. My health is pretty good, and I shall try to study in moderation. The worst thing is, there is too little company to draw me from my own thoughts ; but you must write frequently, and I will answer you punctually, and this will help to lighten the time to us both. I pity your solitude. The want of literary company is a great evil, but you are better situated than I am. " You will be writing, or meaning to write some. Time is now to us becoming precious. A half year should produce much fruit. We have been long cultivating, long acquiring ; it is high time to reap the increase. Do not let yourself be low-spirited. ' Rejoice evermore.' I had a few days of that horror with which I was op- pressed autumn was a year, not just so ill, and it is gone. Beware of it, it is a dreadful tiling. " I should like to see a sermon on the text, Eccles. vii. 16, ' Be not righteous over much.' Might you not send me a discourse upon it by the new year 1 But if you have a plan of study laid down, do not let this interfere with it. " I have no news. We are all well. The west country folk are all well, and inquired after you with great kindness. " Write as soon as you can, and tell me as much as you can. Address to the care of Mr. John Forrester, 33 Rose Street, Hutche- son-town, and I shall get regularly whatever comes. " I write by post, because the difference of a single letter is trifling. " R POLLOK." The next letter in order is one which hfts the whole curtain up, and discloses not only his pecu- niary anxieties, but the very vacillations of his mind with regard to his future plans. How much of this trouble might have been alleviated by a sin- 260 LIFE OF POLLOK. gle act of munificence by some one born to afflu- ence. But it is probable that God, who sees the thoughts before they arise in the human mind, knew that certain mental states were necessary to produce " The Course of Time :" hence he put into the hands of the bard, the cup mingled with the es- sential bitterness. It appears that he had written at this time, five books of the poem, but had not yet formed the con- ception of comprising it in ten. He speaks of com- pleting it in eight. Milton, indeed, first published " Paradise Lost" in ten books. In the second edi- tion, however, he divided the seventh and tenth books ; and with a few additional lines, enlarged it to twelve books. " Glasgow, Jan. 24, 1826. " Dear Brother, — No man had ever more to say to another man than I have to say to you just now^ ; but 1 must content my- self with saying but little after all. " To speak of myself first of all ; I have been at Moorhouse and in Glasgow, at Moorhouse and in Glasgow again, since I saw you ; and I am at this moment, while I write to you, at No. 1, Norfolk Court, Laurieston, where I was last year. When I wrote to you last I was in Glasgow, although I did not say so, for I had then de- termined to go to Moorhouse, and I did go ; but the coldness of the weather, and the badness of the house, and the heavy pressure of pecuniary concerns, when I was surrounded with a thousand thoughts, so overpowered my body and mind, that for some weeks I stooped down, and the billows passed over me. What I suffered in that time God alone knows ; it was less than I deserve, but it was much. But I cannot speak to you by writing. My father noticed the fearful and dangerous state of my mind, and insisted that I should go to Glasgow, hoping that company and better lodging might recover me ; and, indeed, although slowly, I did recover, and LETTER. 261 resume my study. Some weeks passed, however, before I regained confidence in myself, for I felt as if my mind had been shattered to pieces. But I thank God, the Father of spirits, that he has again restored me all my intellectual vigour ; and although by going to the country at the new year I caught a cold, the effects of which have not entirely left me, I am vigorous in mind, and am three hun- dred verses in a third book since I began to study after the Hall. My success in the first book of the piece, which is now written, is beyond my own expectation. There are some strong descriptions in it ; but you are not to imagine it extraordinary. I rather doubt from your letter, that you overvalue it. " Now, be assured of this, that I would send a book or two to you with far more pleasure than you would receive them ; but I have nothing but one copy, and it would be risking it imprudently to send it so long a way. You will see the possil)ility of its miscar- rying, and the consequent irreparable loss — I mean to myself, for I do reckon it valuable — and it is perfectly impossible that I can transcribe it just now ; neither my health nor my time will permit me. I have said this much, that you may acquit me of any shadow of blame for not sending you any of the poem at this time. I re- peat it again, that you may see it is one of the strongest motives which impels me to write ; and there are parts of it in which I have your gratification before me at the very moment I am writing; but you see plainly that, at present, I cannot send any of it. If we are spared we shall soon meet. I cannot finish my poem in less than eight books ; five are written. Excuse me for talking so long of myself and the subject of my study. " I should now like to answer your letter which I received, I think, about a fortnight ago ; but how am I to answer it 1 You are prosperous in regard to your business, as I learn from your letter, and likewise from Mr. Campbell, who speaks of you most kindly. You lay the difficulties of teaching as fully before the mind as they can be laid ; and I am convinced that they are as you say. But I do not like the reflections at the end. although I have made them a hundred times myself; not from the same causes, but from causes equally powerful. My manner of thinking and writing — the man- ner I have of generalizing man, unfits me very much for entering into that detail which is necessary for a preacher. Nay, I often think, that I could not take interest in many of those subjects which it is a minister's most imperative duty to take interest in. Now, 262 LIFE OF POLLOK. you have difficulties — your situation has disadvantages ; but, permit me to say, it has very great advantages too, I mention only that habit of teaching — of detailed activity — of instilling knowledge into the uncultivated mind, and of entering heartily into the concerns of those around us, which your employment has an irresistible ten- dency to create — which habit, however much you may undervalue it, is most essential to the accompUshed minister of the Gospel ; and it is the want of this habit in myself, and the difficulty that I should now have in acquiring it, that I look upon as one of the greatest impediments in my way to usefulness as ' an instructor of the igno- rant :' for I fear that this shall, for a long time yet, be the great work of the minister of Christ. But I shall say no more ; every man must decide for himself. And when we have once asked, humbly, and resignedly, and devoutly, what our duty is in this world, at Him who sees ' the end from the beginning ;' and when we have calmly and rationally chosen what we think He inclines us to do, we have no reason to consult any longer ' with flesh and blood !' What is the advice of man, who sees so short a way before him 1 what is his praise '? what is his censure 1 To be fuohsh in his eyes, may be to fulfd the dictates of eternal wisdom ; to appear to him to fail, may be the most successful ; and to gain his apjtlause here, may be at the expense of a fair reputation in the world that endureth forever. Indeed, what is any wisdom but that wliich the Spirit of God doth impart 1 and what is any approbation but the approbation of that God who knoweth perfectly the true value of every thought, and word, and action, and the consequences of each forever and ever? " I have not seen our father since he received your letter, but I believe he is well ; and so are all the rest. In the west, too, your friends, I believe, are well ; but our little cousin, David Dickie, has been removed from this world. After a short illness, of what na- ture I do not remember particularly, as I could not go out to the funeral, — a closing seized him, which soon carried him off. He struggled very much, I heard, towards the end, for he was a strong boy ; but who that is born of woman shall fight with death 1 His father and mother are very much affected ; but you know all that I can tell you, and can reflect all that I can reflect. He died about ten days ago. " Mr. C , as he would tell you, has been much disappointed in the east. He is now home ; but I fear it shall be hard times MENACED BY CREDITORS. 263 with him soon. He is much involved, and has neither money nor any prospect of gaining any immediately. Think of his lovely children and his most amiable of vfives — for she is truly so — and then, although your difficulties and mine be great, let us reflect hovsr much we might yet suffer ! ' A very wise reflection,' you will say ; so say I ; and it passes with me as it passes with you ; for my pe- cuniary difficulties are really so troublesome, that they destroy one- half of my vigour — so little power has philosophy when she comes with an empty hand ! But I am truly sorry for Mr. C ; I am truly sorry for his wife. I hope the sea shall be divided before him ! ■ " I have been rather long in writing after all ; but I was not the less desirous to hear from you on that account. You would be wrong to think so for a moment. I sometimes appear careless to my best friends ; but no man has a roomier place for them in his heart, and there is no friend on earth that I love so much as you. " I wish you would write soon. I think I have told you my ad- dress somewhere in this endless letter, " R. POLLOK." From the next letter it appears that he was oc- cupied with the second book, and had just written the splendid and sublime description of the Bible : — " This lamp from off the everlasting throne." We cannot read the letter without bedimming it with our tears. He was " menaced by creditors" when sixty dollars would have freed him from em- barrassment. He wa^ also sick, and suffering when he wrote it, from a blister. " Glasgow, March 3, 1S2G. " Dear Brother, — 1 received your letter, of date lOth February, some time ago, and would have written according to your request, immediately ; but that I was lying-to, as the seamen say, in expec- tation of several letters, which I heard were in progress towards me, and which were, by my instrumentaUty, to be sent to you. Three 264 LIFE OF rOLLOK. of these have arrived, wliich you will receive along with this. Two of them, I perceive, are from new correspondents, and I have no doubt you will be greatly pleased to hear from them. " I have not been in the country since the commencement of the year. By letter, or personal visits, however, I have had, since that time, communication with most of my friends. Our father, who has had rather a severe cold, is again well ; and, I believe, none of them at Moorhouse complain. " Mr. Marr is writing a letter to you at the same table at which I write — he will speak for himself; but had I any occasion to give you an account of him, I would take a pinion from the wing of night, and write dark and gloomy things ; — perhaps the man is smihng for all that, inwardly; but I speak merely of his outside. " Of myself I have little to say, and that little not very pleasant. I have finished since I began last winter, three books of my poem, and find strength. I continued the farinaceous diet tiil the stomach refused to be any longer contented with it. I now take a beef-steak be- tween twelve and one, and find myself perfectly ready for dinner at Z16 LIFE OF POLLOK. half-past three, or four o'clock. At breakfast, tea, and supper, all of which I eat with excellent appetite, I take no animal food. " I have been thirty miles up the Dee ; and on Monday, Mr. William Swan, of Dunfermline, who is here on business, intends to proceed forty miles up that river — as far as Balater, He has pressed me to go with him. We shall likely spend four or five days in that quarter. The air on the Dee is delightfully mild — quite dif- ferent from the piercing winds of Aberdeen ; so mild is it, that al- most all the wives and families of the gentlemen in Aberdeen are scattered, during summer, in the numberless cottages up and down its banks. " After arriving here, I soon found my wardrobe miserably defi- cient. The few articles which I brought with me, were sometimes almost all in requisition in a single day, so that 1 have been obliged to add very considerably to this article. My money ebbs fast ; but I think I have still as much as shall enable me to spend ten days or a fortnight here, and carry me rapidly through Perthshire, where I shall make only a few calls, and then return, by Dunfermhne, to Slateford. " Mr. Angus continues his attentions. I have found an invalua- ble companion in Mr. Scott, brother to my landlady ; he is brother also to Mrs. Rev. Dr. Baliner, of Berwick. I have never met a young gentleman of higher accomplishments. He has accompanied me in almost all my rides ; and with him I have seen every thing worth seeing in Aberdeen, and for many miles around. He has also been the means of saving me a great deal of money, from his intimate acquaintance with the place. My invitcitions multiply every day ; and I am absolutely astonished at the kindness and attention with which I am everywhere treated. I never go out to breakfast ; and I have not been one night out of my lodgings after eight o'clock since I left Slateford. " I have a strong desire to go to Italy during winter. If any thing should fall in your way that may forward my wishes in this scheme, if you would take notice of it, you would lay me, if possi- ble, under a still greater debt of gratitude. " I was glad that Mrs. Robertson saw you so late as last Sab- bath, and that you and the family are well. Mrs. Robertson's ar- rival is a great addition to my happiness. Kindest love to Mrs. and Miss Grindlay, to Mr. Belfrage, and to Mrs. Monro and her daugh- ters. " R. POLLOK." LETTER. 317 During the time the poet was visiting this north- ern metropoHs, his friends in and around Edinburgh were engaged maturing measures for sending him to the south of Europe. The very day after he had dispatched the last letter, he received one from Dr. Belfrage requesting him to return immediately, as a plan had been arranged for this end. It is delightful for the pen of biography to record such acts of be- neficence to sanctified and suffering genius. His was a better fate than that of Chatterton. But the followins: letter to his father, on his arrival in Edin- burgh untblds the story. " Rev. John Brouvi^s, Rose Street, i Edinburgh, Aug. 7, 1827. $ <« Dear Father,— If the day is fine you may expect me home on Friday or Saturday first. Saturday is most likely. I shall make my visit to Moorhouse only, so that, if any of my friends wish to see me, they must see me there. I wish you to make no invita- tions. If you see any of my west country friends, you may let them know merely that, if it be the will of Providence, I shall be with you most of next week, at least till Thursday or Friday. " I had been frequently meditating for two weeks, while I was in Aberdeen, about the means of getting to Italy during winter. I wrote to Dr. Belfrage on the subject ; and I was astonished to re- ceive a letter next morning, informing me that I must return to Edinburgh immediately, as he had, with the co-operation of Sir John Sinclair and other gentlemen, completed arrangements for my going to Florence or Pisa during winter. This is the cause of my offering you so short a visit, and also for confining the whole of that short time to Moorhouse. " My constitution has been wonderfully renovated by my visit to Aberdeen. " I think it is not likely that I can reach home before Saturday; but, if God so will, Saturday forenoon. " R. POLLOK." 27* 318 LIFE OF POLLOK. The late Sir John Sinclair was the benefactor of his country. His fame was not that of the warrior, who desolates kingdoms by invasion, and impover- ishes his own by a wasteful expenditure of life and wealth ; but that of him who makes two blades of grass to vegetate where only one had previously grown. His name is now associated with the agricultural worthies, Columella, Herrera, Tessier, Thayer, and Marshall. He was the author of the voluminous Statistics of Scotland. His daughter, Catharine, has given an American popularity to the name. Immediately on the publication of " The Course of Time," this Scotch nobleman purchased a copy, and read it. He formed an exalted opinion of it, and placed the author in a very high niche in the temple of poets. Nay, took occasion to call the attention of the learned and great to it. Nor is it possible to estimate how much of the immediate popularity of the poem is to be ascribed to his sole efforts. As soon as he learned the history of the author, he issued a circular to his friends, under his own signature, with a view of calling their attention to him. The following is the substance of it : — " Hints respecting a Poem recently published, written by Robert Pollok, A. M., entitled ' The Course of Time.'— With a short Ac- count of the Author, and Specimens of his Work. — By the Right Honorable Sir John Sinclair, Bart. — " By mere chance I heard that a work of great merit had been recently published by a young poet, Mr. Robert Pollok, entitled, * The Course of Time.' As I think it a duty incumbent upon those who are anxious to promote the literature of a country, to encourage THE poet's last VISIT TO MOORHOUSE. 319 talent whenever it appears, I lost no time in purchasing the work, and was delighted to find that it displayed great marks of original genius. The conception is grand, the execution masterly, and on the whole, it seemed to me the most extraordinary production that had appeared for some time, more especially as connected with relig- ious subjects. I was thence induced to inquire into Mr. Pollok's history, of which I learned, from respectable authority, the follow- ing particulars:" — " His health, however, had been so much impaired by his exces- sive exertions in preparing his poem for the press, and carrying on its printing, that, after a few trials, he has been under the necessity of relinquishing the labors of his profession ; and being threatened with complaints, which, in the opinion oi' some eminent physicians, render residence in a milder chmate the most probable means of restoring his health, it has become indispensably necessary for him to repair to the Continent without delay. " It is difficult to give a just idea of such a poem by extracts ; hut the following passages will sufficiently prove that Mr. Pollok's pow- ers, as a poet, are of the highest order." — See, Character of Lord Byron, Description of England and Scotland, Evening Hymn in Paradise, &c. The poet was the worse of his northern journey. It is probable that the cold winds off the German ocean excited rather than soothed his chest. His friends in Edinburgh saw with sorrow that he with- ered, and looked more and more like " The sere and yellow leaf." On Friday, the 10th of August, he arrived at Moorhouse, after an absence of ten months. Two of the most momentous incidents in his life occurred during the intervening period. The one was the publication of " The Course of Time," the other his licensure to preach the Gospel of Chi'ist. His friends anticipating his arrival had collected at the 320 LIFE OF POLLOK. paternal mansion. About noon he arrived in a pri- vate carriage. Nor had the vehicle stopped until he was surrounded by a group of anxious faces and glad hearts. Sad, sad, were the first emotions of this fond circle. He had the look and visage of a dying man. He left them in ordinary health, and returned covered with honour and fame ; but, alas ! he brought with him, too, the symbols of another world, — " The harp he loved — loved better than his life; The harp which uttered deepest notes, and held The ear of thought a captive to its song." Moorhouse is an oblong, thatched building, one story high, consisting of two apartments on the ground-floor ; — " the Butt and the Ben," or " the Kitchen and Spence." The door is near the one end, and enters directly into the kitchen, through which you pass to reach the room. The poet, on alighting from the carriage, passed the threshold, nor stopped till he entered the room. He then sat down " on the old chair" beside " the old table," where inspired he had written the greater part of the poem. That was an eventful epoch as the family group stood wondering before the Genius of Moorhouse = CHAPTER VI. " The youth saw everlasting days Before him dawning rise, in which to achieve All glorious things, and get himself the name That jealous death too soon forbade on earth." On Wednesday, the 15th of August, 1827, the author of ''The Course of Time" left Moorhouse for the last time. He could not take with him the mantle of fame with which he had arrayed it. The hills around it, on which he placed the laurel wreath of song, will stand up amid all coming ages, herald- ing its name. The Genius of Scotland found him there, and put into his hands a harp, whose min- strelsy will charm the ear of the Church through all future time. It is one of the holiest feelings of our nature to cherish, with fond remembrance, the spot where a great man was born, or lived, or died. The carriage which conveyed him away stopped, at his request, at the top of the hill, a short distance from the house, and there he said "Farewell" to his father. He had parted with the other members of the family, except David at the house. The next time that father and son met was in the streets of the New Jerusalem. At Clarkston, five miles from Glasgow, David left the carriage and Mrs. Gilmour the married sister, took his place. It had been ar- 322 LIFE OF POLLOK. ranged that she was to accompany the invalid in his tour to Italy. It was there the brothers parted forever in time. During the evening which he spent in Glasgow, in the Wheat-sheaf Inn, Clyde Terrace, a deputation of the students connected with the United Secession Hall, then in session, called upon him and presented the following letter of congratulation and sympathy. He was in bed, and received the deputation in his dormitory. The interview is said to have been tender and affecting, and not unlike the death-bed scenes of Calvin and Knox. There are few inci- dents in history like this. This movement of the theological students justifies us in saying, that a rep- resentation of the present ministry of Scotland did offer a befitting tribute to the dying bard, who sung " The Course of Time." " United Secession Divinity Hall, > Glasgow, 4th A^igust, 1827. ) " Dear Brother, — It has long been a cause of regret to the pious mind that poetical genius should be generally misdirected, and that the highest efforts of intellect and imagination should be rendered subservient to the propagation of vice. The pernicious consequences of such prostitution are certainly extensive and alarming. It is, therefore, gratifying that there have been exceptions to this general lamentable truth ; — that there have been master-minds which have exerted their mighty powers in ' vindicating the ways of God to man.' But how enthusiastic does this pleasure become when such genius arises in splendor from among ourselves, kindhng its fire at the altar of God, and striking its harp to the immortal songs of Zion! " Our satisfaction is too strong not to be expressed. Convinced that, from its depth and accuracy of theological views, its purity of moral sentiment, and the brilliancy of its genius, ' The Course of TRIBUTE FROM THE THEOLOGICAL CLASS. 323 Time' is a work of the very highest merit ; and feeling that the dis- tinguished honour which it confers on its author is not confined to himself, but is reflected on that Theological Seminary in which he was lately our fellow-student, and on that Church to which we mutually belong ; we cannot refrain from offering you an expres- sion at once of our highest admiration and strongest gratitude. " But our gratification, dear brother, is mingled with heartfelt sorrow that your state of health is such as to require your removal to a more genial climate. May He Avho alone sendeth sickness and restoreth health, render effective the means which are employed for your recovery; may He be your guide and comforter while in a foreign land ; and may He soon restore you, in health, to your coun- try, to your friends, and to the Church. — We are, dear brother, yours very affectionately, in name of the Hall, " Geo. Hill, Pres, '•David King, Sec'y." This document does honor to the mtellect and piety of the Theological Class. It is no wonder that Scotland is a land of moral influence, when her rising ministry entertain, and frankly avow, such sentiments. Blessed must that land and church be, whose theological institutions are filled with talented and pious youth. If there is one place on earth where human wisdom, original and powerful intel- lect, as well as eminent godliness, should be col- lected, it is in the school where " the angels of the churches" are equipped for the preaching of the everlasting Gospel. The poet, after reading the communication, told the committee that he was overwhelmed with the honor his fellow-students had conferred on him ; and that he would acknowledge his sense of it in writing in a few days. The Rev. Dr. King of Glasgow, the writer of this paper, remarked, in a recent letter 324 LIFE OF POLLOK. to David Pollok, giving an account of the interview, that it was evident at the time, that the bard was *' going the way of all the earth." The Rev. Mr. Browning, now of Newcastle-upon-Tyne^ remained with him after the deputation left him, assisting him to make sundry preparations for his journey. On the following morning he left Glasgow for- ever, designing to travel to Edinburgh by the way of the canal. He proceeded, however, no further than Port Downie, near Falkirk that day. The shocks of the boat on the banks of the canal gave him great discomfort. Having passed the night at this place, he hired a carriage, in which he finished the rest of the journey. He reached the hospitable mansion of the Rev. Dr. Brown, Edinburgh, in an exceedingly exhausted state. He remained a week in and about the metropolis. During this period his portrait was taken by the well-known artist. Daniel Macnee, Esq., at the soli- citation of Dr. Brown. It is an engraving of this painting which is prefixed to this biography. It is said to be a very accurate likeness of him at the time ; but the death-disease was busy at his vitals. In health, his cheeks were not so hollow, and there were stronger lines of intellect discoverable. Indeed, he had a remarkable countenance when animated. His eyes penetrated the observer, and thought played around his lips. Among the many literary persons who called upon him during his brief stay, was the venerable Henry Mackenzie, the author of " The Man of Feeling," OPPOSITION TO THE TOUR. 325 then in his eighty-fourth year. He received, also, numerous letters from persons of note. Byron, m one of his letters about his own poetical reputation, said, " that he rose one morning, and found himself famous." The same language may be literally ap- plied to Pollok. It was not four months smce the publication of "The Course of Time," and yet his name was recorded among the great mmstrels ol the Encrlish Harp. There is a similarity between the last days of Tasso and Pollok. They both died just as the coronal of laurel had been twined to put on their brows. The poet's kindred were averse to his visiting the south of Europe. They objected to it from the very first. His father had urged his opposition to it with great earnestness, during Robert's visit at Moor- house ; and Mrs. Gilmour not only continued to dis- suade him from it, but took every means to enlist the projectors of the plan in her views. She failed, however, in her judicious efforts. The increasing debility of the invalid seemed only to precipitate the measures for carrying him away from his native land. His Edinburgh friends thought it best to send him to London, and then to be guided about his tour bv the advice of physicians. Now there was in all this a mistaken sympathy. The poet should have been frankly told that he was rapidly hurrying to «' That bourne from which no traveller returns." They might have known that he who wrote these 28 326 LIFE OF POLLOK. lines would not be utterly prostrated by the frustra- tion of his greatest earthly plans : — " O'er the sinner The Christian had this one advantage more, That when his earthly pleasures failed, and fail They always did to every soul of man, He sent his hopes on high, looked up and reached His sickle forth, and reaped the fields of heaven, And plucked the clusters from the vines of God." The desire of the dying when in foreign lands, to be permitted to die at home, must always be greater than the disappointment, which would be occasioned by refusing to sanction their leaving that home. Who has not wept over that touching account given by Mr. Lockhart, concerning Sir Walter Scott, when the desire of home came upon him, in the midst of all the homage which Naples and Rome offered him? The author of " The Course of Time'' should have died in his own Moorland home. The hills which he immortalized should have been the last spectators of his ascending soul. On Tuesday morning, the day before sailing for London; he wrote the following paper at Slateford, and gave it to Dr. Belfrage, with a copy of the poem, in safe keeping for his brother David. " Slateford, August 21, 1827. '* I, Robert Pollok, being advised by my physicians to go abroad for some time, for the recovery of my health, hereby appoint you, David Pollok, sole conductor of the next edition of my poem, ' The Course of Time ;' and you are hereby bound to make no alteration in words, except such as I shall mark on a copy of the work, and leave in the hands of Dr. Belfrage. THE TOEt's care OF THE POEM. 327 " Copy of the ' Course of Time/ corrected by the author, from which nothing is to be added or parted. ,, „ „ ° *' R. POLLOK. " For David Pollok." There were certain verbal corrections in the book, and on a blank leaf these words : — •' Copy of ' The Course of Time,' corrected by the author, from which nothincp is to be added or parted. " R. Pollok. " For David Pollok. ' Mr. Pollok acted like a man who anticipated dying soon. "He set his house in order." The poem was to go down to posterity as he left it. Its faults and merits were his. No hand was to touch it. There is not any thing in this care which he evinced, to lead us to infer that he considered it fin- ished and perfect. All that can reasonably be in- ferred is, that he felt that no mind was capable of adding to it or taking from it, but the one which conceived it. He also made his will the same day after riding into Edinburgh, appointing the Rev. Drs. Belfrage and Brown his executors, and making his father the principal legatee. In the evening he destroyed almost all the letters which he had re- ceived for years from his correspondents. On his arrival in the city, that morning, he found the following note and memorandum, with a package from Sir John Sinclair ; on whom he called during the day and presented, in person, his sincere thanks for the politeness shown him : " Sir John Sinclair thinks it right to send Mr. Robert Pollok materials for writing, the want of which is often felt by travellers ; 328 LIFE OF POLLOK. also cards for writing his name, when he settles at Leghorn, or any other place. " 133, George Street, Edinburgh, " 20th August, 1827." " Memorandum for Mr, Robert Pollok. " 1. Sir John Sinclair has written to his son, George Sinclair, Esq., to endeavour to get letters in favor of Mr. Pollok, to the British consuls at Leghorn, Genoa, Pisa, and Naples, from John Backhouse, Esq., Under Secretary of State at the Foreign Department. It would be most material to get them. " 2. But the great object is, to get the assistance of the Literary Fund for the expenses of the journey ; and for that purpose, it is of the utmost importance that Mr. Pirie should see, in person. Mr, George Sinclair and Sir Benjamin Hobhouse, with as little delay as possible. =' 3. Mr. Pollock should take a copy or two of his work with him — one for corrections. " 4. Remember the ' muffler' in cold and damp weather, particu- larly at sea. "J, S. " 133, George Street, Edinburgh, "20th August, 1827." The last day which the poet spent in Edinburgh was one of thrilhng interest. His tour to Italy w^as the topic of conversation among the literary circles. His movements w^ere watched by multitudes. The curious were anxious to see the face of the great Christian bard. Letters of introduction were for- warded to him. The intelligent and distinguished in rank and station sought to make his contemplated pilgrimage pleasant. Nor would he have failed, from these sources alone, to have found a hospitable hearth in every city in southern Europe, if Provi- dence had permitted him to visit those regions. LETTER. 329 The following letter, furnished him by Mr. Black- wood, the publisher of the poem, is worthy of a place here. It is a beautiful tribute to the author : "TO MRS. BELL, " Aux SoiNS DE Messrs. Lewis, Holff et Co., " Florence, Italie. " Honoured by the Rev. R. Pollok. " Edinburgh, ^Qth August, 1827. " Dear Madam, — I hope you have, ere now, received my letter of the 6th of July. " The reason of my now addressing you is, that a very dear friend of mine, the Rev. Robert Pollok, is on the point of setting off for Italy, for the recovery of his health ; and, as he will probably take up his residence somewhere in your neighborhood, I feel very anx- ious he should have the pleasure of knowing you, as I am sure you will feel an interest in him, both for his own sake, and as a sick countryman, to whom any little attention in a foreign land will be so grateful. " Mr. Pollok is the author of a very remarkable poem, ' The Course of Time.' which, I regret now, I did not send you with the other books, in Mr. MoUini's parcel. I sent a copy to Mr. M.; and you will see a review of it in the June number of my magazine. The critic, it is generally thought, has not done the author sufficient jus- tice ; but the extracts speak for themselves. My venerable friend, Mr. Henry Mackenzie, and a number of our most literary men here, have taken the greatest interest in Mr. Pollok, on account of their high admiration of his poem. " Should Mr. Pollok be so fortunate as to have the honour of meeting with you, 1 hope you will find him in better health than he is at present, and that you will thank me for introducing him to you, I am, madam, your very respectful and most obedient ser- vant, " W, Blackwood, " Mrs, Bell." On Wednesday morning, at six o'clock, the 22nd of August, he left Edinburgh in a carriage for New 28* 330 LIFE OF POLLOK. Haven, *'Our Lady's Port of Grace," as it was called in Papal days, a seaport a mile and a half distant from the metropolis. At nine, the steamer Soho, for London, sailed, carrying him away for ever from his native land. Many friends had ac- companied him to the ship ; and, as on a similar oc- currence at Ephesus, " they sorrowed most of all " because they feared " they would see his face no more." He had an unusually boisterous passage. The North Sea swelled and rolled as if some storm had just passed over it and disturbed it. The sickness of the passengers, the heaving of the ship, and the quivering produced by the engine, the want of air below, and the wind and smoke on deck, all con- spired to make him very uncomfortable. He ap- peared faint and feverish during the voyage, and as Mrs. Gilmour could not wait on him, on account of sea-sickness, he would have suffered for the want of attendance, but for the kind attentions of Miss Benson, an English lady, from Thorne, Yorkshire, who was a passenger. He landed at Blackwall, in the suburbs of London, on Friday noon. The remainder of the day and night was spent at a hotel. On the following morning, John Pirrie, Esq., ex-mayor of London, called, and took him and his sister to his own princely mansion, where they resided during their stay in the city. His first business was to write the following letter : " London, Aug. 25, 1827. "My Dear Brother, — We anived in London yesterday. Oux MALLENA. 331 passage from New Haven was exceedingly rough. A steamboat has a rolling motion from side to side, while a packet rides beautifully over the waves. The captain said he had not made so rough a passage during the whole year. I was somewhat fatigued, but recover fast. Jean was very sea-sick. I do not know yet when we leave London. Mr. Pirrie's establishment is like the establish- ment of a prince. " You will find the corrected copy of my poem at Dr. Belfrage's. " R. POLLOK." The following fragment is worthy of a place here. There is no clue given of its history. It is probably a fancy sketch, suggested by a parting on the sea- shore : MALLENA. A FRAGMENT. Dark was the cloud on the mouth of her cave, And the red meteor awfully flashing; Loud roared the wind, and the sprite of the wave 'Gainst the lone rock was mournfully dashing. She thought of her love, and she wept as she moaned, All the echoes of sorrow awaking : The cloud darker gloomed, and the main deeper groaned, And the heart of Mallena was breaking, But a star, lit in heaven by love's angel there. Threw a ray on the dark billows tossing ; It looked like a smile on the face of despair, But it looked where her lover was crossing. He stretched out his hand, and she leaped to the boat, And again and again she embraced him ; Entranced with the bUss, all her cares she forgot, And feared not the spirits that chased him. 332 LIFE OF POLLOK. But loud roared the waves to the shriek of the blast, And the welkin with thunder was riven ; And down 'thwart the wild sky the stars glided fast, And the boat on the ocean was driven. It was soon ascertained that the ship Amy was to sail from London for Leghorn, on the 28th. Ac- cordingly, a passage was secured in her for the poet and his sister. The intervening two days he spent partly in bed, and partly in visiting the principal places in the metropolis. It was remarked by Mrs. Gilmour that, in entering Westminster Abbey, his attention was directed to the Poet's Corner. Who can tell what his thoughts were, as he stood and gazed on the memorials erected to the Genii of Poesy ? It is a legitimate inquiry, whether the harp of any one of all that illustrious throng ever con- ferred such a boon on man as the author of " The Course of Time." The real standard of true great- ness is not intellect alone, but intellect steeped in holiness. His was " a holy harp." The sailing of the Amy was postponed till the evening of the 30th, affording him two days longer in London. This time he devoted to letter-writing. The following is his reply to the students of theology, who had addressed him before leaving Glasgow : " TO THE STUDENTS OF THE UNITED SECESSION THEOLOGICAL HALL, " GLASGOW. ''London, Aug. 30, 1827. "DE'AR Friends and Brethren, — I received your letter with great pleasure and satisfaction. So early and so high approbation of my work, although in this last I think you have somewhat ex- ceeded, cannot fail to keep alive in my heart the warmest feeUngs LETTER. 333 of gratitude to every one of you, and to bring daily to remembrance our intimate brotherly connection, our studying under the same venerable master, that wherever we are, our interest, our honour, our glory, are one. I thank you for the manner in which you notice my health. ' The prayer of the righteous availeth much.' " I am glad to be able to say, that, notwithstanding a very rough and fatiguing passage to London, I recover daily. This evening, or to-morrow morning at longest, we embark for Genoa and Leg- horn : vessel Amy, Captain Bloomfield. In parting, let me, or rather let us, exhort one another, to ' live soberly and righteously and godly in this present world' — ' steadfast and immovable, always abounding in the work' of our gracious Lord and Master Jesus Christ : so that when he, the ' Chief Shepherd, shall appear,' we ' also may appear with him in glory,' with crowns of unfading lustre, which he ' shall give unto us and all those that love his appearing at that day.' " R. POLLOK." At the close of a letter which Mrs. Gilmour wrote to her father, he added the following lines : — " London, Aug 30, 1827. " Dear Father, — We arrived safe in London on Friday at mid- day, and notwithstanding the roughness of the passage, which was the roughest the captain made this season, I sustained it well. I have seen much of London. We have fine accommodations for Italy, and intend to sail to-morrow. I have had some work to keep Mrs. Gilmour to the point. We shall likely be four or five weeks at sea : ship's name Amy, captain Bloomfield, for Genoa and Leg- horn. We shall write as soon as we land. Have you got a man 1 See to that. " R. POLLOK." He loved his friends. His heart was incapable of forgetting favors. But gratitude is always an attribute of noble minds. Feeble and busy as he was in preparing for his voyage, he found time to write to his benefactor, Dr. Belfrage, Slateford, near Edinburgh : 334 LIFE OF POLLOK. " London, Aug. 30, 1827. " Rev. and Dear Sir, — I suppose Miss Benson has told you something of our voyage hither. First day, I was extremely well, and enjoyed the rough, tempestuous tossing very much. After din- ner I went down to take a nap ; soon fell asleep ; and soon awoke, feeble and exhausted. I immediately called one of the stewards, who frankly told me, what I had indeed discovered, that there was little or no air in the place where I had purposed to sleep. An hour or two on deck, however, recovered me from this dreadful suffocation. At nigiit, I tried to sleep in the dining cabin ; but towards midnight it became so hot with steam, that I was obliged to rise, dress, and sit up the whole night. Next day, from want of sleep, and from fatigue, passed drearily: how to manage the night I knew not. After much consultation with the captain and a Dr. Kirk, who was on board, I got an excellent place beside the doctor and some of the captain's friends, where we were altogether out of the reach of the steam. Dr. Kirk, a very fine gentleman, who has made several voyages to the East Indies, gave me a sedative draught, and, in the course of half an hour, I felt myself infinitely refreshed ; and I had a night's good sleep. "R. POLLOK." The God of Providence most unexpectedly inter- posed at the last moment. The schemes of men are all built on sand. It requires only a light wind from heaven to dissipate them. The Amy was detained for two days to let the purposes of God ripen. Dr. Gordon, a London physician, to whose attentions the poet had been kindly commended by his Edin- burgh friends, and who had been unable to find him sooner, on account of some error in the address, called a few hours before the sailing of the vessel, and gave it as his advice, that the journey ought not to be undertaken by him in his present feeble state ; and recommended as a substitute some quiet place in the south of England. The dying bard was HELEN S GRAVE. 335 pleased with the advice, and was ready to abandon the tour, if the passage-money could be refunded. Mr. Pirie having assured him that this would be at- tended to, he instantly remarked to his sister, his pallid countenance being ht up with joy:— "We will get some rest now." We do not know at what period of his life the following beautiful lines were written ; but they are ominous, and a fitting sequel to this chapter : HELEN'S GRAVE, At morn a dew-bathed rose I pass'd, All lovely on its native stalk, Unmindful of the noonday blast, That strewed it on my evening walk. So when the morn of life awoke, My hopes sat bright on Fancy's bloom, Unheedful of the death-aimed stroke, That laid them in my Helen's tomb. Watch there, my hopes, watch Helen sleep ! Nor more with sweet-lipped Fancy rave ; But, with the long grass, sigh and weep. At dewy eve by Helen's grave. The harp of the poet was to be no more retouched on earth. The loves and joys of time were to be sung by other minstrels. His hopes for this world wei-e withering. The next song which he would chant would be that of Mosps and the Lamb. He had not one moon more to tabernacle below. The epoch of his soul's pilgrimage to eternity drew nigh. CHAPTER VII. " Ambitious now but little to be praised Of men alone ; ambitious most to be Approved of God, the Judge of all ; and have His name recorded in the book of life." Southampton, the birthplace of Dr. Isaac Watts, lies at the head of the inlet opposite to the Isle of Wight. It is remarkable for the salubrity of the atmosphere, and beauty of the surrounding scen- ery. It was advised by the friends of Mr. Pollok in London that he should proceed there and spend a short time. Accordingly, on Friday, the 31st August, he and his sister entered on their journey of seventy-six miles in a private carriage. They trav- elled the first day as far as Alton, and reached Southampton at noon on the second. During the whole of it he could not sit without her support. Lodgings were secured at the neat cottage, of Mr. Hyde, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about a mile out of town. The genius of Isaac Watts and Leigh Richmond have thrown an imperishable glory all over that dis- trict of country. The beautiful lines, " Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours," are alleged to have been suggested by " the narrow SCENERY ABOUT SOUTfl AMPTON. 337 sea" separating the main land and the isle. The thrilling tale of the "Dairyman's Daughter" is like an evei-green laurel entwined upon the brow of the Jsle of Wight. The pious author of it, too, had only died a few months prior to this final earthly journey of the Scottish poet. The scenery about Southampton, as seen from the Isle of Wight, is thus graphically sketched by Mr. Richmond: — " South-eastward, I saw the open ocean, bounded only by the horizon. In the north, the sea appeared like a noble river, varying from three to seven miles in breadth, between the banks of the op- posite coast and those of the island which I inhabited. Immedi- ately underneath me, was a fine woody district of country, diver- sified by many pleasing objects. Distant towns were visible on the opposite shore. Numbers of ships occupied the sheltered station which this northern channel afforded them. The eye roamed with delight over an expanse of near and remote beauties, which alter- nately caught the observation, and which harmonized together, and produced a scene of peculiar interest." Beautiful, however, and paradise-like as South- ampton was at that season of the year, it is strange that intelligent friendship and medical foresight should have sanctioned the poet's going to his own burial. Mrs. Gilmour's sisterly love and good sense is brought out with singular contrast in this move- ment. It is certainly a false philosophy which leads the physician to recommend the dying invalid to travel into "a far country." Why was not the great Christian bard of Scotland afforded the ines- timable privilege of dying at home, amid the hal- low^ed scenes of his life ? If there is one earthly blessing which is to be desired when the soul is put- 15 338 LIFE OF POLLOK. ting off this earthly tabernacle, it is that of gazing on fond faces and hearing the soft accents of well- known voices. Il is true that the presence of Christ is every thing to the dying Christian ; and yet who does not desire, as he enters within the portals of eternity, to see the eyes of his beloved one shining, like holy stars, on the last battlement of time. Eli- sha, the beloved successor of the great Elijah, was the only spectator of the translation. It was the fa- vourite disciples who were present at the Transfig- uration ; and none were permitted to see the ascen- sion but his followers and kindred. It is a sacred feeling implanted in the human soul, for it to seek to leave its dying body in the embrace of those it loves. The author of "The Course of Time" should have been conveyed back to Scotland to die at Moorhouse : — " Where first " he " heard of God's redeeming love j First felt and reasoned, loved and was beloved, And first awoke the harp to holy song." Mr. Pollok was exceedingly exhausted by the long journey ; and although the day was surpassingly beautiful, the air bland, and the scenery entrancing, he was compelled to retire to his chamber, and lay on his couch during the remainder of the day. He passed, also, a sleepless and restless night. In the morning, which was Sabbath, he expressed a strong desire to rise and walk out in Shirley Common, and, to use his own language, " that he might feel the fresh breezes of Heaven." His wish was gratified; A PICTURE OF BEAUTY. 339 his sister accompanied him, taking a cushion and Bible with her, at his request. During the short walk, he sat down several times, while she read to him. This is a scene for the artist to put down in un- fading colors, on the living canvas. It was as beautiful a Sabbath-day as had visited earth since the expulsion of the race from Eden. The soft breezes seemed to come from the lands of violets, roses and thyme. The sky looked far, far away ; with an illumined white cloud, floating here and there in its vast expansion, like the mysterious dra- pery of a meditative angel, who voyaged leisurely through immensity. The trees stood looking up to heaven, with their rich offerings of leaves and fruits in their outspread hands. The lark hymned his anthems high above the earth, and his music came down like strains from another sphere. The poet walked, and sat, and mused in the midst of this earthly magnificence and glory, like one who waited for the coming of seraphim to take him over the Jordan. If the eye of flesh could have looked in upon the invisible state, then would there have ap- peared the whole pageantry and circumstance of heaven ; — the great cloud of witnesses, the minister- ing angels, the crown ready for the dying bard, and chiefest, the "Elder Brother" of the saints. The poet never fully rallied from the exhaustion of the long journey. During each of the next three days, he was able to walk in the beautiful garden of the cottage, though evidently becoming feebler with 340 LIFE OF POLLOK. every setting sun. He seemed to be calm, reflective, and happy. No word of discontent or impatience escaped his hps. On the contrary, his soul rose higher and higher in moral grandeur, as the house of clay decayed and toppled down. Why should it have been otherwise ? Was not the angel con- scious of its approaching triumph ? The soul-part was about entering into the second mystery of existence. The first and last forms of human na- ture are bodily states; the middle one is a pure spirit condition. The first is a mortal body-state ; the second a pure spirit-state, and the third a spir- itual-body state. He must have had the sensations of eternity. It has often appeared to us, that the soul must feel the presence of the invisible world, as it stands on the last promontory of time; just as the earth-traveller, in a dark night, becomes conscious of his approach to a mountain or a lake. On the fifth day, he was so faint as to be unable to leave his bed ; and to use Mrs. Gilmour's expressive lan- guage, " he never had his foot on this earth more." The Bible was the only book which he spoke about, or read. Sir Walter Scott, some fourteen years afterwards, on his dying bed, also limited his reading to it. The author of " The Course of Time" might have spoken about his own poem, for it was an illustration and poetical exhibition of the scheme of mercy ; but every thing human was adumbrated by the glory of the Bible. He often requested his sister to read portions of the Psalms and of John's Gospel. These had, for many years, THE POET NEAR HIS HOME. 341 been his favourite books of Scripture. The former he admired for their spiritual sublimity, and the latter for its spiritual simplicity. It became known to a few persons in Southamp- ton, that the author of the new, religious poem, " The Course of Time," was there, and in a dying condition. Among those who called on him, and offered him attentions, were the Rev. Dr. Wilson, Rector of the parish, Owen Lloyd, Esq., of Dublin, who was there at the time with his invalid wife ; Drs. Denholm, Parker, Stewart, and a young Scotch physician. But man could do nothing for him. The time of his departure was at hand. The shadow marking his exit, had fallen ** Upon the dial's face, Which yonder stands In gold, before the Sun of Righteousness." He would soon be Vv'ith the Poets of Eternity— the holy bards whose lays had been consecrated to God. On the tenth, Dr. Stewart, on leaving his apart- ment, was followed by Mrs. Gilmour. He answered her inquiries frankly, by stating that he had no hopes of her brother's recovery. When she re- entered, Robert asked her what Dr. Stewart had said to her. She evaded his question, but he re- peated it: she then told him the whole that had passed. He heard her without any visible emotion ; but after a short silence, as if revolving something in his mind, proposed to send to London for Dr. Gordon, the physician who had dissuaded him from going to Italy. Here Mrs. Gilmour revealed to him 342 LIFE OF POLLOK. Drs. Belfrage and Abercrombie's apprehensions con- cerning his case before he left Edinburgh, with a view of showing him that medical wisdom could do nothing for him. He made no reply^ but continued to look fixedly, for some moments in her face. At last he moved his position in bed, and commenced discoursing with her calmly and joyfully about death and eternity. There is an incident in this event not dissimilar to one in the supposed death-sickness of Hezekiah. When the prophet told the king that he was dying, he changed his position on his couch. The day following these disclosures, he requested Mrs. Gilmour to write immediately 'to his father. He had deferred writing from day to day, expecting to be able to say he w^as better ; but now the mys- tery of his case was cleared up. She sat down, and wrote as follows :— ^^Southampton, Sept. 11, 1827. " My Dear Father, — On the morning of the 31st of last month, instead of saiUng for Italy, we set off for Southampton, about sev- enty-six miles from London, which journey we accompHshed in a day and a half But Robert was so much fatigued with the jolting of the carriage that he has been fevered ever since, and has been confined to bed for five or six days past. A surgeon from South- ampton has attended him daily during that time ; and yesterday he told me he had little hope of my brother's getting better. Still, how- ever, there is hope, for the fever is abated in some measure. Yes- terday and to-day he seems to have more ease. He now speaks often of death, and rather regrets tliat he was sent so far from his friends. But he is resigned to the will of Providence. We have very comfortable lodgings, and a remarkably kind landlady, who has had a great deal of trouble herself, so that she sympathi- zes with Robert very much. She is also well acquainted with cooking any nice dish that he can fancy. THE POET S LAST LETFER. 343 " He has a great desire to see our brother David here ; and if you could get notice to hira soon, he could come by the mail straight through to London, and thence in a few hours to Southampton. " Robert sleeps a great deal to-day, so that I have leisure to write. I am sitting at his bed-foot, in a neat clean room, in a little cottage, Devonshire Place, Shirley Common, about one mile from Southampton. Our landlord is an old man and remarkably quiet, his vfhole family consists of his wife and a maid-servant, and he keeps three cows. I mention this because Robert has been so fond of milk since coming here, and he has got it every way he wished. He seems better to-day, and feels some rest to his bones, as he expresses it. I am quite well myself, and feel more comforta- ble now since Robert seems sensible of his frail state, and is so re- signed, and I hope prepared for whatever may be the consequence. I have not needed to sit a whole night with him yet, but have to rise three or four times in the night — my bed is in the same room. " Tell my husband I expect to be home soon. I am yours, &c, " Jean Pollok." After she had written, and read it to him, he an- nexed the following Hnes, on the unfinished page. They are the last he ever wrote : — " Dear Father, — It is with difficulty that I can repeat what my sister has written above, that I wish David to come off immediately. Whatever my gracious and merciful God and Saviour has in de- sign with me at this time, David's presence«\vill be equally useful. Let nothing delay his immediate coming. Wherever he is, the Presbytery will at once set him at liberty in a case of this kind. My sister is often much distressed ; but we pray for one another, and take comfort in the gracious promises of God. I hope I am pre- pared for the issue of this trouble, whether life or death. Pray for me. " R. POLLOK." At his suggestion Mrs. Gilmour wrote also about this time to the Rev. Dr. Brown of Edinburgh, and Ex-Mayor Pirrie, of London, apprizing them of 344 LIFE OF POLLOK. his true situation. On requesting her to do it, he said that he felt neither able to dictate nor to write. Although he lived for a week after he learned the opinion of the physicians, he never manifested any unwillingness to die, or uttered a complaint. He conversed, too, readily and cheerfully about death and eternity. The grave had no terrors to him, nor did he manifest any alarm for the future, excepting on one occasion. His sister and he were conversing familiarly about death at the time, and in the course of the conversation he spoke " of be- ing afraid to die." She instantly replied to him, "I thought you would not be afraid to die ; our brother James was not afraid of dying." " Yes," said the poet, " he was not afraid to die, but I have great sins." To this Mrs. Gilmour responded, " I thought you w^ould not have great sins." " Ah," he added, *' I have great sins ;" after pausing an instant, he continued : "but I have also a great Saviour." The cloud had only hovered for an instant between his soul and the gracious presence of the High Priest in heaven. "If* any man sin, we have an advo- cate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous." " They looked unto him, and were lightened." He spent a great portion of his time in prayer and communion wdth God. The hour that he an- ticipated in his poem was in one sense very near to him. Hs was great in prayer, as numerous places in his immortal song most clearly demonstrate. Nor is there any one of his supplications more beautiful and saint-like, than the one in the opening of the SAINTS AT PRAYER LIKE ANGELS. 345 fourth book. Part of it was no doubt frequently uttered by him at this time, as he waited for the angel embassy to carry him home. These are the words : — " The day Of Judgment ! greatest day, passed ov to come ! Day ! which, — deny me what thou wilt, deny Me home, or friend, or honourable name, — Thy mercy grant, I, thoroughly prepared, With comely garment of redeeming love, May meet and have my Judge for Advocate." A saint at prayer reminds us always of an an- gel talking to God. Dr, Chalmers, the Paul of the nineteenth century, was heard the evening before his decease, saying, as he walked up and down in his garden, "My Father, my Father!" Was not this one of earth's greatest angels, holding colloquy from the battlements of time with the Almighty as he sat on the white throne of eternity ? Who has ever read at midnight the intercessory prayer of Christ, and not felt the mystic drapery which hangs between the two states of being, trembling as if it was stirred by wind ? Pollok prayed much, according to his sister's statement. She prayed audibly too for him on one occasion, at his special request. He also asked Mr. Lloyd to pray for him a few days be- fore his death, to which this gentleman replied that he was not accustomed to pray before clergymen, but would cheerfully comply with his wishes. The poet declared that he was greatly refreshed with this prayer. " The effectual fervent prayer of a right- eous man availeth much." 15* 346 LIFE OF POLLOK. On the morning of Monday, the 17th, he grew suddenly worse, and continued exceedingly restless during the whole of the day. His sister also ob- served that his sense of hearing became supernatu- rally acute. He could hear her ordinary respira- tions. Every movement disturbed him. The very light-footed air seemed to annoy him. There is some great mystery connected with the soul's un- robing, which the living have never fathomed. The history of death-beds shows that the organs of hear- ing and seeing are both often unaccountably quick- ened. A dying boy said, not long since, to his mother — " I see a great way off." It was similar with the poet, he could hear things at a great dis- tance. The hum of an earth city is heard, and the sheen of its minarets is seen, by the traveller, often when he is yet leagues distant from it. Why may not, then, tidings of eternity break in on the senses of the dying, as they are drawing near to the last promontory in the isthmus of time ? About ten o'clock at night he sat up in bed, and prayed audi- bly. His "conversation was in heaven." He seemed to speak directly to " the Ancient of Days \" Perhaps he felt that this was the last formal offering of prayer which he would make. The incense from the ancient altars went up through the sky in the midst of smoke, but the smoke went not with it into heaven ; so Christ, no doubt, presented this prayer, purged of its dross, in the golden censer. In a lit- tle while after praying, he lay down and fell into a deep sleep. Drs. Stewart and Denholm came in as THE POET S LAST NIGHT ON EARTH. 347 he slept, but science could do nothing more for the sleeper. They moved his pillow, so as to place his head in a more comfortable position, and told Mrs. Gilmour to be prepared for the worst that night. They saw that the taper of life was flickering in the socket ; and that a single wind from " the valley of the shadow of death" would blow it out. There he lay alone in that chamber of death, in Southampton, with no human being beside him but his sister. There were friends in the town, w^ho would gladly have spent the night with him, but he preferred the quietness of an almost total solitude. His soul no doubt stood watching for the light of eternal day, as the body slept. It may be that he had a dream of heaven and glory. About twelve o'clock he moved, and moaned. It was a " strange, moan," to use the language of his sister ; perhaps it was the utterance of an emotion, which was pro- duced by revelations too great for the body. She addressed him and said, " You are going to leave us now, Robert." He gave no reply at the moment to this ; after, however, she had moistened his lips, he answered distinctly — '"' Aye." This was the last word he uttered. He was then hovering like a star between two worlds. He seemed to fall asleep again, at which time his sister went and called Mrs. Hyde, the hostess, who had expressed a wish to see him die. In about half an hour he opened his eyes, which were bright and beautiful. It was the last look which his soul had of earth before its disembodiment. He was think- 348 LIFE OF POLLOK. ing, for it was a look of intelligence and of love. He soon closed his eyes. They will never be opened again till the trumpet of the archangel awaken the death-sleepers. He seemed to sleep for half an hour more, when the angel of death came and opened the prison doors of his house of clay. His sister knew he was dead, because he ceased to breathe. There was no death-struggle, no agony, no convulsion ; his soul went out of the body all noiseless and fast ; like Peter from the prison, when the angel took off the fetters, opened the gate, and delivered him. The author of " The Course of Time" was not ! " God took him" at one o'clock on Tuesday, the 18th of September, 1827, in the twenty-ninth year of his age. The inscription on Cromwell's coffin is a his- tory of his departure : — " He died with great assui'- ance and serenity of soul.'''' As soon as the news of his death reached Glas- gow, the theological students of the Secession Church, and many friends of the poet, held a meet- ing, at which it was resolved to bring his body to Scotland. The following letter was written by Henry Bell, Esq., of Helensburgh, to the poet's father, requesting his permission. This gentleman was related to the family by marriage. " Sir, — I am sorry at the irreparable loss that you and the fam- ily have met with in the death of the Rev. Robert Pollok. My ear- nest prayer is, that it may be sanctified to you and all friends. " It is the request of a great number of his late fellow-students to have his corpse brought down to Scotland, and interred in the new burying-ground underneath Dr. Mitchell's church, where a monu- ment is to be erected upon his grave ; but before taking this step, it THE poet's burial. 349 is necessary to have your consent, which I hope JonW^Ug^.e. Please send your son down to-morrow to Mr Robert Hood s, Can- dlericcrs, as he and a number of friends wish to send off two stu- dentrby the mail-coach to-morrow night, on purpose to bnng down his corpse by a steam vessel. I hope you will comply with the re- quest. I am Sir, your most obedient servant, u Glasgow, ktk Sept. 1827." " Henky Bell. This scheme, however, was not carried out. Many things interposed to prevent it. David l^ol- lok's absence was one, for he had left for Southamp- ton on the 20th, immediately on receiving the con- joint letter of Mrs. Gilmour and Robert, of the 11th, requesting his presence there. Another thing also, was the fact that the funeral had taken place before the committee was prepared to leave Glasgow. Other reasons, likewise, seemed to point out the ex- pediency of a postponement of the scheme. Delays are usually disastrous to enterprises ; it was so m this matter, for it has never since been agitated to any extent. Mrs. Gilmour, and Mr. Pirrie who went on from London to attend to the obsequies, selected the church-yard of Milbrook, about two miles from Southampton, and lying on the sea-shore, as the fit- test place for immediate sepulture. On Friday the 21st all that was mortal of the author of ihe Course of Time" " was carried to his burial," by a few invited friends. Perhaps the paucity of mortal attendants was more than overbalanced by the le- gions of angels who were present. The Rev Mr. Molesworth read the Episcopal beautiful burial ser- 350 LIFE OF POLLOK. vice in the open grave-yard. Scotland gave him birth, and England a peaceful grave. He was nursed and educated in that department of the Church of Christ committed to the Presbytery, and on his death-bed Episcopacy offered him the same Gospel in its chalice, and he was solaced. At his burial there were represented Congregationalism, in the person of the Rev. Mr. Adkins ; Presbyterian- ism, in his own person ; and Episcopacy in that of the officiating clergyman. Why should it have been otherwise ? was he not the bard of the visible Church ? Earth has had none greater since ; nay, the holy harp of God remains to this day without a harper. Letters of condolence from the Rev. Drs. Brown and Belfrage, Ex-Mayor Pirrie, from the students in Glasgow, and numerous individuals of distinction, were soon received at Moorhouse ; but the " old man" became, by means of them, only more and more conscious of his irremedial loss. It was mani- fest that the most brilliant star of holy minstrelsy in all Scotland had set forever beyond the horizon of time. When a few months had passed away, and the plan of bringing the ashes of the bard to Scotland had been abandoned, Drs. Belfrage and Brown, the treasurers of the fund which had been raised to send him to Italy, issued a circular to the contributors, stating that there were fifty-five pounds remaining in their hands ; and which they proposed should be appropriated to the erection of a monument over GERM OF THE DESCRIPTION OF BYRON. 351 his grave. This proposition met with universal fa- vour, and, in 1828, an obelisk of Peterhead granite was placed over his remains. Besides the dates of his birth and death, it has the following inscription, written by the Rev. Dr. Brown : — OF AUTHOR OF "THE COURSE OF TIME." HIS IMMORTAL POEM IS HIS MONUMENT. KRECTED BY ADMIRERS OF HIS GENIUS. CHAPTER VIII. '' These other, there relaxed beneath the shade Of yon embowering palms, with friendship's smile, And talk of ancient days, and young pursuits, Of dangers passed, of godly triumphs won; And sing the legends of their native land, Less pleasing far than this their Father's house." In October, 1828, I visited Moorhouse in com- pany with Dr. James Dobson, of Eaglesham, the poet's intimate friend and ardent admirer ; nor can I close this biography without introducing a memorial or two of it, from the hght which it casts on some of the locahties adverted to in the poem, as well as on some incidents of the poet and his friend. There is no carriage road from the beautiful vil- lage of Eaglesham to Morehouse, a distance of nearly four miles. The intervening tract is also mountainous, affording pasturage chiefly for sheep and cattle. There is little arable land and a sparse population. It was a beautiful morning that we en- tered on this excursion ; the air exhilarating and fresh, and the autumn sun an hour or two above the horizon. As we ascended the mountain path, the smoke of the village seemed to twine like an ethereal ravine and pathway far up amid the blue immensity. The woodcock and plover ever and anon rose up at the noise of our footsteps, and ou VISIT TO MOORHOUS". 353 whirring wings hasted from our path. We had not travelled far before the doctor turned my attention to " the neighbouring hill" of " The Course of Time," over one of the spurs of which we were crossing. But every step of the journey was made intellect- ual by allusion to passages in the poem and to inci- dents in the life of the poet. We had proceeded over many a ''hillock," and paused to admire many a scene of indescribable pan- oramic beauty ; when the doctor, suddenly laying his hand on my arm, said " Stop." We had reached at the time a point about half way between the vil- lage and Moorhouse. " This rock is the poet's pul- pit," said he, pointing to a huge mass of granite which lay before our feet, a block of stone dissevered from the adjoining hill, and covered with the moss of centuries. It brought to my mind, as I gazed on it, that graphic line of Burns, " Yon auld gray stane amang the heather." I put my hand on the rock, and looking up into the countenance of my friend, who stood in a niche of it, listened to the history of the poet's pulpit. "Often," said he, "has Robert stood upon this stone and recited his effusions to me. Here have I listened to him reading the most graphic portions of " The Course of Time." " I can never forget," he continued to remark, his eyes glistening with excite- ment, " I can never forget this stone. It was here I heard him recite the memorable description of By- ron, on the evening of the day it was composed. In 354 LIFE OF POLLOK. the afternoon of a cold, bleak day," he went on to say, "just as I had finished grinding my largest and best glass," — the doctor was an amateur optician, — *' Robert walked in, and after sitting a short time, rose and asked me to accompany him a little dis- tance. We had scarcely reached the door, till he told me he had walked over the moor to read some lines to me which he had written that day, at one sitting ; but that I must wait till we got to the Crow Stone." Interrupting him in his narrative, — " Doctor, said I, did Pollok tell you that the lines referred to By- ron?" " No" was the reply, — " I knew whom he meant, before he read them half through." "And what did you say about them ?" continuing to address him. Quoth he, " I told Robert the episode was too long, but with all its failings, it would be read when many of Byron's own productions were forgotten." After a moment's silence, the doctor told me to set down on a smooth stone near by ; while he re- cited to me some lines in which the poet had im- mortalized their friendship, and the place itself As soon as I was seated and he had placed himself on the very spot, the poet used to stand, he recited as follows : — THE CROW STONE. A Fragment. Far in a waste by sombre heath o'ergrown, Some reverend stones their hoary heads display j THE CROW STONE. 355 From Nature's hand, in grand disorder thrown, They rest the wanderer on his desert way : One doth conspicuous all the rest survey, Which seem to whisper homage in the blast. By Heaven prepared the weary mortal's stay ; Here leaned the wanderer of the ages past ; The weary here shall lean while time and wandering last. Hither, allured by nature mild and lone. Strayed, thoughtful, sad, a youth and hoary sage : Old Omar rested on the monarch stone, An humbler seat became young Edgar's age. 'Twas their delight to read the desert-page That stills the passions, and exalts the mind ; On both their years bleak Fortune spent her rage, — But spent in vain : to Heaven their souls resigned, Serene on earth they gazed, for God was ever kind. Far, on each side, the wasteful heaths extend. And nought of art the wandering gaze espies; Blue, gloomy hills the distant prospects end. Whose heads exalted seem to prop the skies. Wide Silence reigns, save when the lonely cries Of desert fowl break on the timorous air; Or when the Iamb, where verdant hillocks rise, Salutes its dam, unknown to guilt and care. Such scenes the wanderers' souls were amply formed to share. Long on these scenes the pensive Omar mused ; Then thus his words to Edgar were addrest : — " Heaven-favored youth ! to early sorrow used, Early the desert was thy sweetest rest ; Early thou sought'st to be in thinking blest: When giddy youths, in thoughtless, joyless mirth, Wasted their days, and parents' hearts opprest, 'Twas thine to ponder o'er the desert earth. Talk with thy youthful soul, and cherish deathless worth. " Ah ! how unwise the busy fluttering race. Who from themselves to wanton tumults fly ! 356 LIFE OF POLLOK. Their reason lost in passion's thorny maze, No ray divine beams through their troubled sky ; Awhile they rave, and in their raving die. Ah ! there, my son, 's a waste of human woes; There lions prowl, and filthy harpies cry ; There Sirens lull the soul to curst repose. But in this wild serene the soul is far from foes." There was a long solemn pause after the utter- ance of the last line. I looked up into the face of my friend, and it was evident his thoughts were with the dead. — The silence continued. — The ven- erable gentleman took his kerchief and hid his face. — Still there was no word uttered. I saw him wipe away the tears. I was young — not entered upon manhood ; yet I felt a weakness coming over me. I too wept. That morning the poet's pulpit, as they had facetiously named it, was consecrated with tears. But who would not give a tear to the memory of the holy dead ? About a mile distant from Moorhouse, stands the only habitation which we passed in our course. We called here, nor shall I ever forget the kindness and simplicity of that interesting family. The iso- lated inhabitants among the mountains of Scotland, know little about the great world beyond their own hills. Happy people ! happy land ! Such ignorance is bliss ! While the doctor was in the sick chamber, I sat conversing with the hostess about the poet, for I was cuiiious to learn every thing relating to his his- tory. Nor can I now detail my astonishment, on hearing that vagueness and mystery enveloped his MOORHOUSE AND SCENERY AROUND. 357 glory in the midst of the very scenes he had immor- talized. " They tell me," said she, " that he has made a great book, and that all the learned folks praise it wonderfully." " Poor lad," she continued, " he did na live long after he got his lair. — What do ye think?" said she, addressing the doctor, who had now joined us, " folks have come far and near to see the auld hoose where he was born, and one of them actually made a picture of it, and took it with him." The poet, I learned, was a favourite with the fam- ily. His sayings and doings were not forgotten ; and there were members of it, who spoke of summer hours and moonlight walks spent whh him on the hills. On leaving this house we soon saw Moorhouse for the first time, though born within a few miles of it. It was a thatched, oblong, old building, lying near the bottom of a basin formed by surrounding hills. From the '' hill head" on which we stood, the northern and western shores of Scotland were dis- tinctly visible. The peaks of mountains too, some seventy or a hundred miles distant, stood before us holding up the sky. I never gazed on a more maor- nificent panorama. Hills, vales, woods, rivers, seas, ships, islands, hamlets, cities, and flocks were spread before us. He sings : — " Nor do I of that isle remember aught Of prospect more subHme and beautiful, Than Scotia's northern battlement of hills, Which first I from my father's house beheld, At dawn of life." 358 LIFE OF POLLOK. We descended the hill, and in a few minutes found ourselves at Moorhouse. There were two houses several yards apart, and so placed as to form two sides of a square. The out-buildings I cannot now describe. The building on the left was the res- idence of the poet's eldest brother John, the other the paternal mansion. The father of the bard met us ; he was a fresh old man of at least threescore years. He was a little bent and bald, yet active, and ruddy of countenance. He had seen us com- ing, and left the labors of the field to salute us. Even yet I seem to feel the pressure of his hand, and to hear the hearty salutations of his voice. We entered the building, passed through the kitchen, and were soon seated in that memorable chamber, where the wonderful imagery of Heaven, Hell, and Earth " Sought admission in his song." What a crowd of strange thoughts threaded the sanctuary of my mind ! I sat in the chamber of inspiration. On the very chair in which had sat " The true legitimate, anointed bard, Whose song through ages pours its melody." My arm rested on the very table, where the ideas were made incarnate and given in verse to immor- tality. Around me, either stood or sat the father, brother, sister, niece. That babe, now a little girl, " That neither smiled Nor wept, nor knew who gazed upon 't," SCENE AT MOORHOUSE. 359 as its dying mother " Looked upon its face, and sought For it — unutterable blessings." A beloved and invalid cousin, was also there. She had been reading before we entered the room, and as she rose to receive us, laid the volume on the table. 1 lifted it unconsciously, opened it, and where a leaf was folded down, there seemed a round wet spot on these significant lines : — " The man she mourns was all she calls her own ; The music of her ear, light of her eye, Desire of all her heart, her hope, her fear, The element in which her passions lived.'' As I laid it down, I saw inscribed in the peculiar autograph of the Bard : — TO MISS MARY ANN I shall never forget that visit to Moorhouse ; it is one of the greenest spots in the memory of past years. The faces, the conversation and the incidents are all engraven on my soul. Alas ! the immortal- ized niece, Janet Young, the invalid cousin, the venerable father, and my beloved friend, " Old Omar," "A worthy man," are all gone away to the spirit land since that memorable visit. They are registered among the chronicles of the dwellers in eternity. 360 LIFE OF POLLOK. A few more touches alone remain to be added to this portraiture of Mr. Pollok, before we place it amid the gallery of likenesses, which earth cannot willingly give to oblivion and forgetfulness ; or rather, all that is necessary now, is to bring the picture into the sunlight of observation, and mark the strong characteristics of his inner and outer nature. And first in this serial scrutiny, we notice his form and appearance. His stature was five feet and nine inches ; symmetrical, muscular and erect. He had the air and mien of a vigorous, elastic and ac- tive man. His forehead was large, his features chiselled-like and correct ; his e3^es black, preg- nant with divine thought and intelligence. His hair dark, and his countenance touched with the ohvaster shade. It was easy to see that he was an uncom- mon man. His look was that of a high-souled gen- ius incarnate. His manners are next in this pictorial analysis. And here it is difficult to communicate the whole truth ; for sometimes he seemed cold and reserved ; and again, on other occasions, frank, affable, and jo- cose. Much depended on his mood of mind. As a general thing, however, he was not only agreeable, but attractive. His wonderful and varied acquisi- tions in the latter part of his life, made his presence very desirable in the intelligent circle. He pos- sessed uncommon powers of sarcasm ; and when roused in debate, was absolutely withering. His tone of voice and gestures, too, on such occasions, were inimitable, and eloquence itself CHARACTERISTICS OF THE POET. 361 It is a remarkable fact that he had no musical talent ; indeed, he had no taste for scientific music. Still he could appreciate sweet sounds, and was far from being insensible to the witchery and enchant- ment of his native airs. Had his mina been turned to the study of harmonious sounds in early life, he could no doubt have attained to excellence in the science. The true philosophical doctrine on this subject is, that which affirms the capability of every mind attaining the power of exemplifying music, orally or instrumentally. He was a student. This seems manifest in every incident of his biography. Like the gold-washers, who separate the sand and alluvial soil from the ore, he sought for ideas as the true jewelry of art and science. Whatever the field of study was, which he explored, he never lost sight of the proper aim of investigation. He never attained to profound knowledge in the several departments of a college course. He was not an Erasmus or a Parr in phi- lology ; a Niebuhr or an Arnold in history; a Schil- ler in general literature ; yet, like them, he went into the very caverns of thought, and into the under stsata of human opinions. No man Hving has any means of ascertaining now, w^hat was the real depth and magnitude of his acquisitions. He stands out as a model to every young man. He was inflexible in purpose, and untiringly assiduous in the pursuit of human and divine knowledge. He was a poet. It is difficult to know where to place him in the galaxy of poetic stars. The small- 16 362 LIFE OF POLLOK. est planets are nearest to the sun ; the greatest the farthest remote. If he is to be judged by this phenomenon, then he is a small orb of song ; be- cause, his poem hangs in the proximity of the great white throne, which is the very centre of sovereignty. Our opinion is, that he is not to be compared with the bards whose lays are earthy, and furbished with the lustre of a false philosophy and a spurious the- ology. On the contrary, be is to be viewed as stand- ing alone in the nineteenth century, on the mountain height of inspiration. His thoughts, imagery, phra- seology, and mould are ail his own, and most appro- priate for the great psalm which he indited. His piety is the instinctive principle in the por- trait. It is the soul, the mind, the heart. The other things are the mere shadings and drapery. Nor can there be a doubt entertained about his union to Christ. It may be difficult to decide at what mo- ment in his life he passed from death unto life ; but that he was " born again" is as clear as any fact of such magnitude can well be. His " Tales of the Covenanters" are rich with the very essence of the Gospel. He everywhere mag- nifies the grace of God, and sets forth the righteous- ness of Christ. His compunctions on account of sin are scriptural ; his faith is saving, and not that of mere confidence in testimony. He sees with an enlightened mind and feels with a sanctified heart. His characters are either Christians, or persons in the blindness of an unconverted state. Their speeches are also befitting their conditions. THE COURSE OF TIME 363 His Poem, too, is full of unction. It is incompar- able among all other lays for the depth of its piety. He who judges it by mere intellect, overlooks its richest jewelry and most soul-ravishing beauties. The poet brings heaven into the near suburbs of earth, and discourses like one who has great intima- cy with '•' the Ancient of Days." He that would make others weep must weep himself; so he who can melt the reader into a devotional state of mind, must himself be anouited by heaven. There are not wanting cases of conversion produced by read- ing " The course of Time.'"' Nay, its piety is its glory. It stands alone among human songs in this particular. No other bard of earth has infused into his minstrelsy such a savour of heaven and eternity. It was written in the very intervals from prayer and reading the Bible. In every relation of life, Mr. Pollok's piety is conspicuous. He was a pious youth, son, student, friend, brother, preacher and poet. He died, too, as a holy bard might be expect- ed to die. His influence for good on the earth will continue Vvhile there is one saint walking through the wilderness of the world. "Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life." In this biography, I have endeavoured to bring out in relievo the intellectual and moral lineaments of the author of " The Course of Time." 'My duty has been that of the artist who touches the canvas with the various colours of the rainbow, until the living likeness arises as a creation before him ; or like the sculptor who strikes the rock with his mallet, 364 LIFE OF POLLOK. and fashions the eloquent and beautiful statue. If I have failed to give life, likeness and beauty to the design, still the effort has been beneficial to my own mind, and will, perchance, be received as an honest, though defective memorial^ of the great Christian Poet of this century^ " But what avails My mention of liis name : before the throne He stands illustrious 'mong the loudest harps." THE END. 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