Reminiscences of Scottish Life and Character by Edward Bannerman Ramsay

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This mention of Scottish Psalmody and Scottish Hymnology, whether for
private or for public worship, naturally brings us to a very important
division of our subject; I mean the general question of reminiscences of
Scottish religious feelings and observances; and first in regard to
Scottish clergy.

My esteemed friend, Lord Neaves, who, it is well known, combines with
his great legal knowledge and high literary acquirements a keen sense of
the humorous, has sometimes pleasantly complained of my drawing so many
of my specimens of Scottish humour from sayings and doings of Scottish
ministers. They were a shrewd and observant race. They lived amongst
their own people from year to year, and understood the Scottish type of
character. Their retired habits and familiar intercourse with their
parishioners gave rise to many quaint and racy communications. They were
excellent men, well suited to their pastoral work, and did much good
amongst their congregations; for it should be always remembered that a
national church requires a sympathy and resemblance between the pastors
and the flocks. Both will be found to change together. Nothing could be
further from my mind in recording these stories, than the idea of
casting ridicule upon such an order of men. My own feelings as a
Scotsman, with all their ancestral associations, lead me to cherish
their memory with pride and deep interest, I may appeal also to the
fact that many contributions to this volume are voluntary offerings from
distinguished clergymen of the Church of Scotland, as well as of the
Free Church and of other Presbyterian communities. Indeed, no persons
enjoy these stories more than ministers themselves. I recollect many
years ago travelling to Perth in the old stage-coach days, and enjoying
the society of a Scottish clergyman, who was a most amusing companion,
and full of stories, the quaint humour of which accorded with his own
disposition. When we had come through Glen Farg, my companion pointed
out that we were in the parish of Dron. With much humour he introduced
an anecdote of a brother minister not of a brilliant order of mind, who
had terminated in this place a course of appointments in the Church, the
names of which, at least, were of an ominous character for a person of
unimaginative temperament. The worthy man had been brought up at the
school of _Dunse_; had been made assistant at _Dull_, a parish near
Aberfeldy, in the Presbytery of Weem; and had here ended his days and
his clerical career as minister of _Dron_.

There can be no doubt that the older school of national clergy supply
many of our most amusing anecdotes; and our pages would suffer
deplorably were all the anecdotes taken away which turn upon their
peculiarities of dialect and demeanour. I think it will be found,
however, that upon no class of society has there been a greater change
during the last hundred years than on the Scottish clergy as a body.
This, indeed, might, from many circumstances, have been expected. The
improved facilities for locomotion have had effect upon the retirement
and isolation of distant country parishes, the more liberal and extended
course of study at Scottish colleges, the cheaper and wider diffusion
of books on general literature, of magazines, newspapers, and reviews.
Perhaps, too, we may add that candidates for the ministry now more
generally originate from the higher educated classes of society. But
honour to the memory of Scottish ministers of the days that are gone!

The Scottish clergy, from having mixed so little with life, were often,
no doubt, men of simple habits and of very childlike notions. The
opinions and feelings which they expressed were often of a cast, which,
amongst persons of more experience, would appear to be not always quite
consistent with the clerical character. In them it arose from their
having nothing _conventional_ about them. Thus I have heard of an old
bachelor clergyman whose landlady declared he used to express an opinion
of his dinner by the grace which he made to follow. When he had had a
good dinner which pleased him, and a good glass of beer with it, he
poured forth the grace, "For the riches of thy bounty and its blessings
we offer our thanks." When he had had poor fare and poor beer, his grace
was, "The least of these thy mercies."

Many examples of the dry, quaint humour of the class occur in these
pages, but there could not be a finer specimen than the instance
recorded in the "Annals of the Parish" of the account given by the
minister of his own ordination. The ministers were all assembled for the
occasion; prayers had been offered, discourses delivered, and the time
for the actual ordination had come. The form is for the candidate to
kneel down and receive his sacred office by the imposition of hands,
_i.e._ the laying on of hands by the whole Presbytery. As the attendance
of ministers was large, a number of hands were stretched forth, more
than could quite conveniently come up to the candidate. An old minister,
of the quiet jocose turn of mind we speak of, finding himself thus kept
at a little distance, stretched out his walking staff and put it on the
young man's head, with the quiet remark, "That will do! Timmer to
timmer"--timber to timber.

Their style of preaching, too was, no doubt often plain and homely. They
had not the graces of elocution or elegance of diction. But many were
faithful in their office, and preached Christ as the poor man's friend
and the Saviour of the lowly and the suffering. I have known Scottish
ministers of the old school get into a careless indifferent state of
ministration; I have also known the hoary head of many a Scottish
minister go down to the grave a crown of glory, in his day and
generation more honoured than many which had been adorned by a mitre.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] Lying Gilbert.

[15] This anecdote has been illustrated, as taken from these pages, by a
very clever sketch of the Highlander and his admirer, in a curious
publication at Liverpool called _The Tobacco Plant_, and devoted to the
interests of smoking and snuffing.

[16] The truth is, in old English usage "bug" signifies a spectre or
anything that is frightful. Thus in Henry VI., 3d Part, act v. sc.
ii.--"For Warwick was a _bug_ that feared us all."

[17] Adds fuel to fire.

[18] As far as I am aware the only place in which it is practised at
present (July 1872), is in the Free Church, Brodick, Arran.

CHAPTER THE SECOND.

SCOTTISH RELIGIOUS FEELINGS AND OBSERVANCES.

Passing from these remarks on the Scottish Clergy of a past day, I would
treat the more extensive subject of RELIGIOUS FEELINGS and RELIGIOUS
OBSERVANCES generally with the caution and deference due to such a
question, and I would distinctly premise that there is in my mind no
intention of entering, in this volume, upon those great questions which
are connected with certain church movements amongst us, or with national
peculiarities of faith and discipline. It is impossible, however, to
overlook entirely the fact of a gradual relaxation, which has gone on
for some years, of the sterner features of the Calvinistic school of
theology--at any rate, of keeping its theoretic peculiarities more in
the background. What we have to notice in these pages are changes in the
feelings with regard to religion and religious observances, which have
appeared upon the _exterior_ of society--the changes which belong to
outward habits rather than to internal feelings. Of such changes many
have taken place within my own experience. Scotland has ever borne the
character of a moral and religious country; and the mass of the people
are a more church-going race than the masses of English population. I am
not at all prepared to say that in the middle and lower ranks of life
our countrymen have undergone much change in regard to religious
observances. But there can be no question that amongst the upper
classes there are manifestations connected with religion now, which some
years ago were not thought of. The attendence of _men_ on public worship
is of itself an example of the change we speak of. I am afraid that when
Walter Scott described Monkbarns as being with difficulty "hounded out"
to hear the sermons of good Mr. Blattergowl, he wrote from a knowledge
of the habits of church-going then generally prevalent among Scottish
lairds. The late Bishop Sandford told me that when he first came to
Edinburgh--I suppose fifty years ago--few gentlemen attended
church--very few indeed were seen at the communion--so much so that it
was a matter of conversation when a male communicant, not an aged man,
was observed at the table for the first time. Sydney Smith, when
preaching in Edinburgh some forty years ago, seeing how almost
exclusively congregations were made up of ladies, took for his text the
verse from the Psalms, "Oh that men would therefore praise the Lord!"
and with that touch of the facetious which marked everything he did,
laid the emphasis on the word "men." Looking round the congregation and
saying, "Oh that _men_ would therefore praise the Lord!" implying that
he used the word, not to describe the human species generally, but the
male individuals as distinguished from the female portion. In regard to
attendance by young men, both at church and communion, a marked change
has taken place in my own experience. In fact, there is an attention
excited towards church subjects, which, thirty years ago, would have
been hardly credited. Nor is it only in connection with churches and
church services that these changes have been brought forth, but an
interest has been raised on the subject from Bible societies, missionary
associations at home and abroad, schools and reformatory institutions,
most of which, as regard active operation, have grown up during
fifty years.

Nor should I omit to mention, what I trust may be considered as a change
belonging to religious feeling--viz., that conversation is now
conducted without that accompaniment of those absurd and unmeaning oaths
which were once considered an essential embellishment of polite
discourse. I distinctly recollect an elderly gentleman, when describing
the opinion of a refined and polished female upon a particular point,
putting into her mouth an unmistakable round oath as the natural
language in which people's sentiments and opinions would be ordinarily
conveyed. This is a change wrought in men's feelings, which all must
hail with great pleasure. Putting out of sight for a moment the sin of
such a practice, and the bad influence it must have had upon all
emotions of reverence for the name and attributes of the Divine Being,
and the natural effect of profane swearing, to "harden a' within," we
might marvel at the utter folly and incongruity of making swearing
accompany every expression of anger or surprise, or of using oaths as
mere expletives in common discourse. A quaint anecdote, descriptive of
such senseless ebullition, I have from a friend who mentioned the names
of parties concerned:--A late Duke of Athole had invited a well-known
character, a writer of Perth, to come up and meet him at Dunkeld for the
transaction of some business. The Duke mentioned the day and hour when
he should receive the man of law, who accordingly came punctually at the
appointed time and place. But the Duke had forgotten the appointment,
and gone to the hill, from which he could not return for some hours. A
Highlander present described the Perth writer's indignation, and his
mode of showing it by a most elaborate course of swearing. "But whom did
he swear at?" was the inquiry made of the narrator, who replied, "Oh, he
didna sweer at ony thing particular, but juist stude in ta middle of ta
road and swoor at lairge." I have from a friend also an anecdote which
shows how entirely at one period the practice of swearing had become
familiar even to female ears when mixed up with the intercourse of
social life. A sister had been speaking of her brother as much addicted
to this habit--"Oor John sweers awfu', and we try to correct him; but,"
she added in a candid and apologetic tone, "nae doubt it _is_ a great
set aff to conversation." There was something of rather an _admiring_
character in the description of an outbreak of swearing by a Deeside
body. He had been before the meeting of Justices for some offence
against the excise laws, and had been promised some assistance and
countenance by my cousin, the laird of Finzean, who was unfortunately
addicted to the practice in question. The poor fellow had not got off so
well as he had expected, and on giving an account of what took place to
a friend, he was asked, "But did not Finzean speak for you?" "Na," he
replied, "he didna say muckle; but oh, he damned bonny!"

This is the place to notice a change which has taken place in regard to
some questions of taste in the building and embellishing of Scottish
places of worship. Some years back there was a great jealousy of
ornament in connection with churches and church services, and, in fact,
all such embellishments were considered as marks of a departure from the
simplicity of old Scottish worship,--they were distinctive of Episcopacy
as opposed to the severer modes of Presbyterianism. The late Sir William
Forbes used to give an account of a conversation, indicative of this
feeling, which he had overheard between an Edinburgh inhabitant and his
friend from the country. They were passing St. John's, which had just
been finished, and the countryman asked, "Whatna kirk was that?" "Oh,"
said the townsman, "that is an English chapel," meaning Episcopalian.
"Ay," said his friend, "there'll be a walth o' _images_ there." But, if
unable to sympathise with architectural church ornament and
embellishment, how much less could they sympathise with the performance
of divine service, which included such musical accompaniments as
intoning, chanting, and anthems! On the first introduction of
Tractarianism into Scotland, the full choir service had been established
in an Episcopal church, where a noble family had adopted those views,
and carried them out regardless of expense. The lady who had been
instrumental in getting up these musical services was very anxious that
a favourite female servant of the family--a Presbyterian of the old
school--should have an opportunity of hearing them; accordingly, she
very kindly took her down to church in the carriage, and on returning
asked her what she thought of the music, etc. "Ou, it's verra bonny,
verra bonny; but oh, my lady, it's an awfu' way of spending the
Sabbath." The good woman could only look upon the whole thing as a
musical performance. The organ was a great mark of distinction between
Episcopalian and Presbyterian places of worship. I have heard of an old
lady describing an Episcopalian clergyman, without any idea of
disrespect, in these terms:--"Oh, he is a whistle-kirk minister." From
an Australian correspondent I have an account of the difference between
an Episcopal minister and a Presbyterian minister, as remarked by an
old Scottish lady of his acquaintance. Being asked in what the
difference was supposed to consist, after some consideration she
replied, "Weel, ye see, the Presbyterian minister wears his sark under
his coat, the Episcopal minister wears his sark aboon his coat." Of late
years, however, a spirit of greater tolerance of such things has been
growing up amongst us,--a greater tolerance, I suspect, even of organs
and liturgies. In fact, we may say a new era has begun in Scotland as to
church architecture and church ornaments. The use of stained glass in
churches--forming memorial windows for the departed[19], a free use of
crosses as architectural ornaments, and restoration of ancient edifices,
indicate a revolution of feeling regarding this question. Beautiful and
expensive churches are rising everywhere, in connection with various
denominations. It is not long since the building or repairing a new
church, or the repairing and adapting an old church, implied in Scotland
simply a production of the greatest possible degree of ugliness and bad
taste at the least possible expense, and certainly never included any
notion of ornament in the details. Now, large sums are expended on
places of worship, without reference to creed. First-rate architects are
employed. Fine Gothic structures are produced. The rebuilding of the
Greyfriars' Church, the restoration of South Leith Church and of Glasgow
Cathedral, the very bold experiment of adopting a style little known
amongst us, the pure Lombard, in a church for Dr. W.L. Alexander, on
George IV. Bridge, Edinburgh; the really splendid Free Churches, St.
Mary's, in Albany Street, and the Barclay Church, Bruntsfield, and many
similar cases, mark the spirit of the times regarding the application of
what is beautiful in art to the service of religion. One might hope that
changes such as these in the feelings, tastes, and associations, would
have a beneficial effect in bringing the worshippers themselves into a
more genial spirit of forbearance with each other. A friend of mine used
to tell a story of an honest builder's views of church differences,
which was very amusing, and quaintly professional. An English gentleman,
who had arrived in a Scottish country town, was walking about to examine
the various objects which presented themselves, and observed two rather
handsome places of worship in course of erection nearly opposite to each
other. He addressed a person, who happened to be the contractor for the
chapels, and asked, "What was the difference between these two places of
worship which were springing up so close to each other?"--meaning, of
course, the difference of the theological tenets of the two
congregations. The contractor, who thought only of architectural
differences, innocently replied, "There may be a difference of sax feet
in length, but there's no aboon a few inches in the breadth." Would that
all our religious differences could be brought within so narrow
a compass!

The variety of churches in a certain county of Scotland once called
forth a sly remark upon our national tendencies to religious division
and theological disputation. An English gentleman sitting on the box,
and observing the great number of places of worship in the aforesaid
borough, remarked to the coachman that there must be a great deal of
religious feeling in a town which produced so many houses of God.

"Na," said the man quietly, "it's no religion, it's _curstness," i.e._
crabbedness, insinuating that acerbity of temper, as well as zeal, was
occasionally the cause of congregations being multiplied.

It might be a curious question to consider how far motives founded on
mere taste or sentiment may have operated in creating an interest
towards religion, and in making it a more prominent and popular question
than it was in the early portion of the present century. There are in
this country two causes which have combined in producing these
effects:--1st. The great disruption which took place in the Church of
Scotland no doubt called forth an attention to the subject which stirred
up the public, and made religion at any rate a topic of deep interest
for discussion and partizanship. Men's minds were not _allowed_ to
remain in the torpid condition of a past generation. 2d. The aesthetic
movement in religion, which some years since was made in England, has,
of course, had its influence in Scotland; and many who showed little
concern about religion, whilst it was merely a question of doctrines, of
precepts, and of worship, threw themselves keenly into the contest when
it became associated with ceremonial, and music, and high art. New
ecclesiastical associations have been presented to Scottish tastes and
feelings. With some minds, attachment to the church is attachment to her
Gregorian tones, jewelled chalices, lighted candles, embroidered
altar-cloths, silver crosses, processions, copes, albs, and chasubles.
But, from whatever cause it proceeds, a great change has taken place in
the general interest excited towards ecclesiastical questions. Religion
now has numerous associations with the ordinary current of human life.
In times past it was kept more as a thing apart. There was a false
delicacy which made people shrink from encountering appellations that
were usually bestowed upon those who made a more prominent religious
profession than the world at large.

A great change has taken place in this respect with persons of _all_
shades of religious opinions. With an increased attention to the
_externals_ of religion, we believe that in many points the heart has
been more exercised also. Take, as an example, the practice of family
prayer. Many excellent and pious households of the former generation
would not venture upon the observance, I am afraid, because they were in
dread of the sneer. There was a foolish application of the terms
"Methodist" "saints," "over-righteous," where the practice was observed.
It was to take up a rather decided position in the neighbourhood; and I
can testify, that less than fifty years ago a family would have been
marked and talked of for a usage of which now throughout the country the
_exception_ is rather the unusual circumstance. A little anecdote from
recollections in my own family will furnish a good illustration of a
state of feeling on this point now happily unknown. In a northern town
of the east coast, where the earliest recollections of my life go back,
there was usually a detachment of a regiment, who were kindly received
and welcomed to the society, which in the winter months was very full
and very gay. There was the usual measure of dining, dancing, supping,
card-playing, and gossiping, which prevailed in country towns at the
time. The officers were of course an object of much interest to the
natives, and their habits were much discussed. A friend was staying in
the family who partook a good deal of the Athenian temperament--viz.
delight in hearing and telling some new thing. On one occasion she burst
forth in great excitement with the intelligence that "Sir Nathaniel
Duckinfield, the officer in command of the detachment, had family
prayers _every_ morning!" A very near and dear relative of mine, knowing
the tendency of the lady to gossip, pulled her up with the exclamation:
"How can you repeat such things, Miss Ogilvy? nothing in the world but
the ill-natured stories of Montrose!" The remark was made quite
innocently, and unconsciously of the bitter satire it conveyed upon the
feeling of the place. The "ill-nature" of these stories was true enough,
because ill-nature was the motive of those who raised them; not because
it is an ill-natured thing of itself to say of a family that they have
household worship, but the ill-nature consisted in their intending to
throw out a sneer and a sarcasm upon a subject where all such
reflections are unbecoming and indecorous. It is one of the best proofs
of change of habits and associations on this matter, that the anecdote,
exquisite as it is for our purpose, will hardly be understood by many of
our young friends, or, at least, happily has lost much of its force
and pungency.

These remarks apply perhaps more especially to the state of religious
feeling amongst the upper classes of society. Though I am not aware of
so much change in the religious habits of the Scottish peasantry, still
the elders have yielded much from the sternness of David Deans; and upon
the whole view of the question there have been many and great changes in
the Scottish people during the last sixty years. It could hardly be
otherwise, when we consider the increased facilities of communication
between the two countries--a facility which extends to the introduction
of English books upon religious subjects. The most popular and engaging
works connected with the Church of England have now a free circulation
in Scotland; and it is impossible that such productions as the
"Christian Year," for example, and many others--whether for good or bad
is not now the question--should not produce their effects upon minds
trained in the strictest school of Calvinistic theology. I should be
disposed to _extend_ the boundaries of this division, and to include
under "Religious Feelings and Religious Observances" many anecdotes
which belong perhaps rather indirectly than directly to the subject.
There is a very interesting reminiscence, and one of a sacred character
also, which I think will come very suitably under this head. When I
joined the Scottish Episcopal Church, nearly fifty years ago, it was
quite customary for members of our communion to ask for the blessing of
their Bishop, and to ask it especially on any remarkable event in their
life, as marriage, loss of friends, leaving home, returning home, etc.;
and it was the custom amongst the old Scottish Episcopalians to give the
blessing in a peculiar form, which had become venerable from its
traditionary application by our bishops. I have myself received it from
my bishop, the late good Bishop Walker, and have heard him pronounce it
on others. But whether the custom of asking the bishop's blessing be
past or not, the form I speak of has become a reminiscence, and I feel
assured is not known even by some of our own bishops. I shall give it to
my readers as I received it from the family of the late Bishop Walker of
Edinburgh:--

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