A Frenchman's Walk in Ireland by The Chevalier De Latocnaye

CHAPTER XIII - A Short Visit to Scotland-Edinburgh

The Scotch accent appeared very strange to me although I had been accustomed to it during my previous sojourn, but while their tongue may be uncouth, it must not be denied that the cleanliness and air of industry apparent everywhere are extremely creditable to the inhabitants who use it. I travelled through Stranraer, and following my way along the coast I had soon from the heights a magnificent view of the sea which separates Ireland from Scotland, and of the passage which opens to the ocean between Fair Head and the Mull of Kintyre. It seemed to me almost, that I could distinguish the surprising column of Fair Head, and in spite of the hard frost, and that was obliged to conduct my horse by the bridle on account of slippery roads, I took a singular pleasure in the outlook. Doubtless there are many folk who in a similar case, would think only of the pleasure of being opposite a good fire.
I crossed the pretty town of Ayr, paying toll at every step, and when I asked a passer-by for directioin to the house of Mr. Reid at Adamton, I was told 'Tak the corner o' the hoose when ye'll be to th'end o' the toon, and ye'll gang stracht for it.' An Englishman hearing such a jargon would imagine that he heard Greek, but having spent two years in Scotland I understood perfectly well what it meant.
An Englishman who had lived long in Scotland pretended to know the language perfectly. A young and pretty girl for whom he had an attachment, having bet that she could say to him something that he could not understand, said, 'Ye're a canty callant, will ye pree mee mou.'<39> He could not make any meaning out of it, and when it was explained to him, he had the double sorrow of losing his bet and the happy occasion. But when I come to think of it, neither English nor Irish will understand the phrase, and I am not going to take the trouble to explain it. But if they wish to know its sense, let them say to the first Scotch girl they meet, 'Bonny lassie, pree mee mou.' If she is pretty they will have something to laugh at, and if she is not, they will remember it at another time.
On the way to Glasgow the frost was so violent that, they say, it split rocks. I ought not, therefore, to be astonished that it split my riding-breeches so badly that, notwithstanding the handkerchiefs and hay I used, I was nearly frozen. Passing the night at Cathcart with the Rev. Mr. Dour, I came to Glasgow, where I had already been in my Scotch journey. I admired its beauty as much or even more than at the time of my first visit, and saw again with pleasure the people who had welcomed me then, among others, the family of Mr. Oswald, to whom I paid a visit at Scotstown. It is but just to acknowledge that, failing the kindness which he and his family showed to me, the cold passivity of other people in Edinburgh to whom I was introduced would have left me without means to carry out my project. I had anew on this occasion a proof of this friendship, for, the frost continuing, I had the shoes of my poor companion in the journey sharped, and the smith in the operation lamed the poor beast badly. Not knowing what to do, and the expense of keeping it at the inn being very considerable, I thought of ridding myself of him by simply leaving him behind. I spoke about the matter to Mr. Alexander Oswald, who came to see the horse, and having examined it, he asked me what it was worth. I said to him that, wounded as it was, it was worth nothing. 'In the situation in which it is,' said he, 'would twelve guineas suit you?' 'They would suit me perfectly well,' I answered, and the bargain was made. This frank and generous way of acting, made me wish that my poor beast should become in his hands a courser of Araby.
I think I really feel more pleasure in acknowledging a benefit than in reproving an impertinence. I may be found sometimes biting, but I shall never be found ungrateful.
Being at Scotstown, I crossed the river on the ice, although it was entirely concealed under water, and went to see the manufactories at Paisley. They are truly surprising in their immensity. The machines, alone, in the manufactory which I visited, had cost more than twenty thousand pounds sterling. It must take a devilish lot of muslin and ties and petticoats to make this pay, and yet this is nothing compared with what I saw at Lanark, of which I shall speak later.
I quitted Glasgow, alone, and contrary to usual custom I took a place in the coach which travels to Falkirk; the rest of the way I accomplished on foot, crossing the Forth in spite of the ice at Alloa. Here I had the pleasure of finding myself again in a country where I had received hospitality, and happily it was again forthcoming from Mr. Bruce of Kennet and Major Mayne, with whom I had lived a long time. Leaving there, and following the line of the Forth near the iron mines, or rather iron earth, for at certain places the whole soil seems to be iron ore, I crossed the river at Queensferry, and arrived, at last, at Edinburgh.
It was the same town, the same buildings, the same places, but manners had changed very much since my departure. Everybody was armed; the doctors, the barristers, the attorneys, even the ministers of the Gospel, and professors of colleges were exercising and sweating in the uniforms of grenadiers.<40> I do not say that this was anything but very honourable on their part. All I have to say is, that it made a great difference in society.
All the street porters, the chairmen, the lackeys, and artisans of every description had been forced to carry arms, and the sum of two shillings per week was paid to them by way of compensation for time lost in going through exercises.
This singular energy certainly did honour to Great Britain, but remembering what has been said to me so often when I first set foot on English shores, I cannot see the necessity for it. I had been told then that one Englishman was always as good as three Frenchmen, and in the north it was held that one Scotchman was as good as three Englishmen.
It is very strange, when one comes to think of it, to find the menace of invasion renewed in every war with France, and always with the same success. These menaces do not lay any burden on the Government, beyond the maintenance in the Channel of twenty vessels of war which perhaps could be employed elsewhere; but, after all, they make access to the purses much more easy through the terror which they inspire. 'The secret of Government,' said Cardinal de Rets, 'is to govern by terrors of which the governed make themselves the instruments.' This secret is known in Great Britain.
The spirit which reigned among the inhabitants of Edinburgh at the time of the formation of the volunteer forces was very like that which influenced our people at the time of the formation of the National Militia, although in a different way. Some people suggested to me that I should be enrolled among the volunteers. It was vain for me to say that when I came to England or Scotland it was in order to submit myself to a policing force, and not to become a member of it;—to be protected myself, and not to protect. These reasons seem to me very good, but they were not accepted. I was pressed to take sides, and was seriously reproached for abominable conduct in eating, without remorse or prick of conscience, a good dinner with the partisans of the Opposition, with as much appetite as if the hosts belonged to the Ministerial side.
Unless one has been in Great Britain at a stormy time, it is impossible to conceive of the animosity between parties, and the bitterness with which they defend their two patrons;—the one side has done all the wrong, the other alone can repair it. If the king himself should make choice of one or other of these two precious mortals, I should not be very much astonished to see the two parties unite against him, and perhaps there might follow a revolution if the new Premier should not be able to get a majority.
It is not for the principles of a Minister that the people plague themselves. It is simply a matter of persons, the reason being that one has received a favour or hopes to receive one. There are, of course, people who without any thought of self-interest take sides violently, but these are rare. 'He is the greatest man that ever was at the head of the nation,' say one set, while the people on the other side cry 'Oh, the monster, the rascal, he has dragged the nation to the brink of ruin—we are lost. There is only one thing that can save us, and that is to hang Mr. Dupuits, and put Mr. Renard in his place.'
During the course of the winter the Anti-ministerialists at Edinburgh and over Great Britain made a humble petition to the king to dismiss his 'weak and wicked ministers.' Signatures were received to these documents at every public -house, and in order to encourage the people to add their names, I am told that a glass of wine was given to everyone who signed. It is said that some people signed so many times on the same day that they were drunk in the evening. The partisans of the Opposition on this occasion only did what others had taught them, for when the corps of volunteers was being formed from the lower classes, a great hogshead of porter was drawn through the town, and some of its contents was given to everyone who presented himself as a defender of his country.
There was here a great cry of misery, nevertheless there were seven or eight balls daily; comedy, concert, circus, panorama, wild beast show, all were filled. A certain Italian who knew how to attract the help of people in high station drew crowds to what he called his 'Literary Exhibitions,' at which he read, with a Milanese accent, the tragedies of Corneille and the comedies of Molière. This country is really the Promised Land for charlatans. This one made use of a little Italian compliment, changing the name of the country to the one in which he happened to find himself. Here it is: 'Foolish lovers, why do you go to Paphos; Venus is no longer there, she has fixed her dwelling among the charming women of Scotland.' My word! Reading this, I was charmed and thought how happy I should be at Edinburgh to have the chance of meeting the beautiful goddess. In the middle of these diversions there was a movement to send missionaries to the Indies, to preach the Gospel to the Gentoos, Arabs, and Chinese. There was a subscription even got up for this purpose.
The circus where Astley exhibited his wonders of horses was changed to a church on Sunday, and I have seen in it nearly two thousand persons, the stalls (although they smelt of the stables) being filled by the fashionable folk, and the minister preached from the prompter's perch. How everything passes, everything changes! Twenty years ago, the people of Edinburgh demolished and burnt the theatre, as the work of the devil, and now they go there for the Lord's Supper. Another twenty years and perhaps they will be playing comedy in the churches.
Several sects have been formed, even since my first visit, among others one (the name of which I have forgotten), disdaining the sombre carriage of Presbyterianism, pretends that God is only to be honoured by gaiety. This sect sings the Psalms in the gayest manner, and, for Anthem, laughs most seriously.
People who had not taken orders were often to be found preaching in public. Sailors in the pulpit dealt warningly with the fire of Hell, and I myself have seen—oh, strange thing!—an attorney discourse to his clients on the precepts of the Gospel.
I am much astonished that ministers do not discourage such work, seeing that it will take the bread from their mouths, if the people should come to understand that without their aid they can enjoy a sermon of six or seven hours, and for nothing. With this understanding will come an end to benefices—in Scotland at any rate, where it is the people who pay.
Sunday was still observed with the same regularity; that is to say, the ladies spent it at church, and the men over their bottle. I knew one minister who shaved on Saturday, because shaving is labour, and labour should not be undertaken on the Sabbath. Happily he did not class the putting-on of one's trousers as labour. It is not so long since there was a law which prevented barbers from exercising their profession on this day. However, nobody says anything about stopping the work of the chair-porters, the cab-drivers, nor the cooks.
I have heard that some twenty years ago, an enthusiastic minister made a journey to Rome with the laudable intention of converting the Pope to Protestantism. When, at a certain moment, the Pope lifted his blessed fingers, and the audience bowed to receive the benediction, he, instead of abasing himself, cried out with anger, 'Abomination of abominations! Behold the Babylonish woman about to accomplish her work of iniquity!' Everybody was confounded, and the man was arrested. The Pope, knowing that he was a subject of Great Britain (for which country, although it condemns him and his work, he has always a paternal tenderness), had him brought before him, and questioned him. The minister avowed his intention naively and commenced to preach. After the Pope had listened to him very patiently, he said: 'My dear son, what would you think of me, and how do you think I would be received, if I went to Scotland, and shouted suddenly in the middle of your preaching, that you and your people were heretics doomed to everlasting burning? Moderate your zeal, go back to your own country, do the best you can for the flock over which you are set, and which you have left for the moment without a shepherd. I have given orders that you shall not want for anything on the way.' Leaving the audience, the good minister found a person waiting for him, who conducted him to Ostia, handed him some money and saw him embark on a vessel for Edinburgh.
I have seen the King's birthday celebrated in this city with remarkable solemnity. The Lord Provost (Mayor of the City) and the other magistrates invited the Judges of the Court of Session, the Officers of the different Corps, and many other persons to solemnise the day of the King's birth in the Grand Hall of the Parliament House. There were four or five tables, one of them among others large enough to allow nearly two hundred persons to stand round it. All were covered with dried fruits, bon-bons, and, especially, with bottles. The Lord Provost, at the head of the table, in the costume of office (which, parenthetically, I may remark is very like that of Nantes), cried with a loud voice, 'Gentlemen, fill your glasses.' The request had not to be repeated, and he then said, 'The King,' which words everyone repeated, and then drank. The Lord Provost did not allow much time to pass before he said again, 'Gentlemen, fill your glasses,' giving another toast, and this went on for three full hours. I should add that, although everyone present had at the end nearly three bottles, I do not remember to have seen a single person drunk, nor even tipsy, which goes to prove that the Scotch heads require a great deal to upset them.
I had not noticed on my previous visit a courtesy intended as a compliment to the Royal Family, and to celebrate the Union of the two Kingdoms. It consists in the nomenclature of the five parallel streets in the new town. The southern one has been called 'Princes Street 'in honour of the Prince of Wales; that to the north, 'Queen Street' in honour of the Queen; one of the two smaller near that of Queen Street is named 'Thistle Street,' because the thistle is an ancient device of Scotland. The other near Princes Street is 'Rose Street,' because white and red roses are heraldic devices of England (I may say that there are few streets smell less of roses). To that of the middle, between England and Scotland, they have given the King's name—George Street, which street, at the end, touches on the place called after the Queen—Charlotte Square, and at the other end touches on one called after the Patron Saint of Scotland—Saint Andrew Square.
Behind this fine quarter, and as if out of the way, they have hid poor James—James Square—which is not to be reached until after one has made the grand tour over a hill, and a rapid descent down the side, next the sea. It will be seen that the folk who planned this out were very ingenious.
I went to see an establishment which cannot be too highly praised. It is an institution for the maintenance of the blind, who by their labour are able to pay nearly the whole of the expenses. There are also charitable establishments which supply work at one shilling per day to poor people and old men. There are always one hundred or more employed here in breaking stones and preparing them for the roads. A great store of these has been accumulated, but they find means to employ all who present themselves, and the poor folk are able to live. The greatest security reigns in this city at all hours, although there are very few watchmen;—it is due to the good disposition of the inhabitants that more are not needed.
I do not remember to have heard of any theft during the whole of the time I was in Scotland, and although I have permitted myself sometimes to make certain little jokes—for which I hope no one will censure me too much—Edinburgh is certainly the best-informed and most agreeable place of habitation in the whole of Great Britain. It can show at present something rather remarkable. The Professors of the College are not only very learned, they are, also, nearly all celebrated for their works.<41> The greater number of famous authors who have appeared in Great Britain during the last century were Scotch. It suffices to mention the names of Hume, Robertson, Fielding, and Smollett. I have often thought that the most generally well-informed and at the same time most sociable class is that of the lawyers of Edinburgh. A stranger who would desire to know the best of the inhabitants of the three kingdoms should try to become acquainted with the rich merchants of London, the lawyers of Edinburgh, and, in their country houses, the landlords of Ireland.
I should be ungrateful if I allowed this occasion to pass without offering my thanks to the amiable family of Mr. Clerk of Eldin, to Baron Gordon, Lord Ankerville, Sir Henry Moncrieff, the Lord Provost, Mr. Elder, and other esteemed persons who treated me with so much kindness, helping me in all the little troubles and bothers which attended the printing and publication of my first volume.<42>
Having then rested as long as my business required, I started one fine morning with the intention of returning to Ireland, there to finish my travels and fulfil the engagements I had entered into with the persons who had received me, by publishing the reflections which my journey had occasioned, and the details of matters I had observed.
According to my usual custom on leaving or returning to Scotland, I went to pay my respects to the persons who received me on my first arrival. I took, therefore, a place in the Stirling coach, and seeing a young and fairly well-clothed man disappointed of a place on the imperial, without saying a word I took him by the hand and made him sit down in my place on the coach, while I took his place, to the great astonishment of my travelling companions, who were astonished that anyone could be so polite. However my action in the end touched them, and one of them at the first change of horses offered to take my place, for there is really good material in these folks, and you only need to get at it to make them do what is right. The coach stopped at Linlithgow, a little town prettily situated on a lake. After the battle of Falkirk, the Royalists were so terrified that, without stopping, some of them ran to Edinburgh, others passed the night in this town, and by misadventure set fire to the Royal Palace, the walls of which are still standing. In the middle of the street there is a fountain with this inscription below the figure of an angel—'St. Michael kind to strangers.' It is really very kind, although the beverage which it offers to a traveller is not much used in this country. The offer is at any rate generous, and it is offered to all comers for nothing, which is an act rare enough in all countries, and not very common in Scotland.
Falkirk was what it was when I had passed before, a rather ugly hole, and the Carron works always smoking. I saw again with pleasure the persons who had been kind to me in Stirling. There was competition as to who should take me to church, but I gave the preference to the Established religion, and I had the pleasure (?) of hearing in the society of the faithful a sermon three hours long.
It was a great pleasure to me to see again the places I had frequented two years before. I found an inscription upon the door of the hospital at Stirling which had escaped me on my earlier visit, and I think it merits quotation here. Three or four hundred years ago a certain tailor having, by his industry, amassed a considerable fortune, left part of it to the hospital, and this legacy is the reason for the existence of the inscription I have mentioned. Round a pair of scissors, cut on white marble, there are these remarkable words—
Remember, you reader.
That the scissors of this honest man
Do more honour to human nature
Than the sword of the conqueror.
The view from the castle here to me is beautiful as ever. I made a little excursion to the summit of Craigforth, and remarked with much pleasure that the great works on the Blair Drummond Moss were proceeding, and promised the entire uncovering of this immense area. Passing the Abbey boat I heard, with pleasure, a discussion among the boatmen on the mutiny in the navy, which was then at its worst, and it was said that the sailors had hung their Admiral. 'Weel, mon,' said one, 'I'se warrand ye mony a ane'll swing for this.'
'But, dear mon,' said another, 'it's no' that they want, they're only seekin' bread and drink.' 'Weel a weel, Jock will gie them that,' replied the first speaker.
As a matter of fact this 'Jock'<43> had really the last word in the matter, as he must have in any Government that is absolutely determined to maintain established order. Revolutions never come unless the Government believes itself to be stronger than it really is, and is glad to profit by the effervescence of the populace to overturn its opponents. At this moment the example of France was too recent for the Government to draw any conclusions from it, and the chiefs of the insurrection were hung. If the Government had been weak enough to Machiaveliser with them, as did the French Government, they would have been treated exactly as the latter has been treated.
I went to see my old host. Major Mayne, with whom I had passed a time of peace, and during the few days of my sojourn I travelled the country round about. It is always a great pleasure to one to revisit the places where he has already spent some time, it is a sort of gratitude or homage which should be rendered to Nature.
The adjacent mountains are full of veins of copper. There is, however, only one mine open, and that has been working but a short time. A short distance from the Devil's Bridge, there was found here in the time of Charles II a mass of silver, which produced, I am told, more than fifty thousand pounds sterling, but it was what the mineralogists call a nest of silver—there was no vein.
This part of the country is cultivated to great perfection. In order to encourage emulation among the labourers, the proprietors organise, annually, a ploughing match; that is to say, they choose a field and turn into it all the ploughmen of the neighbourhood with their ploughs, these and the horses being decorated. The men and ploughs are ranged in line and are started together—he whose furrow is the best and straightest, in the judgment of the other ploughmen and the owners, receives a prize of some value, a profusion of compliments, and is sure never to want a place. One can easily understand the emulation which this ceremony or practice encourages among the ploughmen of the country, and of the good effects it must produce. Certainly, I have never seen better cultivated or more fertile fields.
During the troubles of the invasion of Prince Charles in 1745, a lady of the country, according to the story told me, used a singular method to prevent her husband from taking any part in the operations. The husband was a partisan of the house of Stuart, and had announced his intention to join, next day, the last Prince of that House appearing in Great Britain. After having exhausted her rhetoric in the effort to dissuade him, his wife begged him, as a special favour, that he would breakfast with her before setting out, a favour which the husband could not well refuse. Next morning he was booted, spurred, and ready to start, his horse already at the gate. The good lady, under the pretext of making the tea, took the boiling kettle from the fire, and by a sudden movement overturned it in one of his riding boots. These, at that time, were made with a wide leather expansion above the knee. The anger of the man and the pain caused by the burning can easily be imagined. 'Kill me if you will,' said the woman, 'this was the only way to save you from the rage of one or other of the parties. Neither of them can complain that you have not appeared, since for a long time you will not be able to budge.' There are a good many people who would not have been sorry to have been scalded in this fashion.
Shocks of earthquake accompanied by subterranean noises occurred regularly near the Roman camp of Ardoch; I have described them on page 232 of my 'Promenade dans la Grande Bretagne.' This phenomenon should attract the attention of the learned of the country, and they should endeavour to discover the cause of it. I myself have felt the shocks in the mountains in the neighbourhood; the water of the lakes is sometimes visibly agitated, and it has often happened that it has fallen or risen several feet at such times. I have often wished for the country that a brave volcano would break out in the middle of these desert mountains; it would attract the curious from all parts of the earth.
The inhabitants of the mountains are reputed to be subject to a malady, which is politely called 'Scotch Fiddle.' One of their kings, who seemed to have known something of the malady, asserted that the rubbing of one's back against a stone was an enjoyment too great for a simple subject. I should say that I have not seen more of this instrument of music in Scotland than elsewhere; and, in spite of the long time I have spent in that country, I left without learning to play.
It is hardly forty years since tea was first introduced into Scotland. Someone in London, having returned from China, sent four or five pounds as a rare gift to a lady of his acquaintance. She, as the story goes, boiled the leaves a full hour, then threw the water away and dished the leaves with melted butter.
Everywhere throughout Great Britain little use is made of vegetables, especially in winter. I have been told, however, that a certain man called Montrose, not being able to do without them, kept asking his wife continually, 'Give me something green,' even when she had told him that vegetables were wanting. In the end the good lady, to try and satisfy her spouse, boiled an old pair of green velvet breeches, and placed them on the table round the beef!
It is perhaps fit that I should not indulge here in jokes about Scotland, for the bile of these honest folk is easy to raise, and I am here reminded of a story. One of the chiefs of the American League having said in a joking way to a Scotchman who was dining with him, 'I hope, Sir, that you will not be offended if I speak ill of the Scotch when I am a little tipsy, it is my custom, and I cannot help it,' the other replied, 'I hope, Sir, that you will be good enough to excuse me a rather bad custom which I really cannot help, and that is to slay anyone whom I hear saying a word against a Scotchman.' The ill custom of the Scotchman freed the American from liability to indulge in the practice of his bad habit. I left here, after having passed a little time in this beautiful and good country in the enjoyment of rest which was so necessary to me after my winter's work. Well received, well treated by persons whose goodwill and esteem I had the good fortune to gain, my sojourn would have been extremely agreeable, but for this cruel division of the people into partisans of Mr. Pitt or Mr. Fox. Always it was Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, and I, as a foreigner, found it impossible to take any more interest in them than I did in Mahomet or Ali. Like these rival prophets, Pitt and Fox are no doubt very clever men, but I must admit that the weariness which their follies caused to me made me (I beg their pardon) wish them many a time with the devil for company.
It is strange that in all these disputes I never once heard the name of the King mentioned. What is heard of him is—the King took a walk on the terrace at Windsor—the King eats—the King drinks—the King gets up—the King goes to bed—everything else is Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox.
I had the chance at Glasgow of being presented to Mr. Dale, one of the most extraordinary characters I have seen. He began as a simple weaver, and by long continued industry he has acquired a brilliant fortune. He was good enough to take me, with a Glasgow merchant, to his cotton mills at Lanark, near the Falls of Clyde. Passing through Hamilton, he showed me a house, saying, 'There is a house where for many a year I worked at a loom.' His mills consist of four great buildings each of four storeys, and each storey with seventeen or eighteen windows in line, I saw here more machines, more wheels, and more cotton than in any other place I had visited.<44> All the machinery is put in movement by water power drawn from the Clyde, the water carried at great cost through a rock of more than two hundred feet thickness. Before there were any manufactures here, the place was wild and desert. Now it has two thousand inhabitants.
Mr. Dale maintains at his own charge nearly five hundred children who work for him, and whom he has taught to read, write, and to know arithmetic. They are all kept in excellent trim, well dressed, and well fed. When they have attained the age of fifteen or sixteen years, and after they have acquired the taste for work and industry, they leave and easily find places. It is on account of this that I find the mills of Lanark so very interesting. This is the real glory of the merchant. Mr. Dale has the praise of maintaining more than two thousand persons, and of turning into useful members of society a prodigious number of little friendless orphan children, who are for the most part simply a charge on him.
Several persons in Ireland having appeared to me to wish to form such establishments in which to give occupation to the children of their neighbourhood, I took the liberty to question Mr. Dale as to the best way to make use of his plans in a small way. He has assured me that it is impracticable, and that the best way to employ the children of the poor in spinning cotton is for a simple individual to follow the old method unless he can bring together a great number, and make the enterprise his sole business. The smallest establishment of the kind I saw would cost at least seven or eight hundred pounds sterling—the Lanark Mills have cost over one hundred thousand pounds.
The Falls of Clyde are two miles from these mills. They are reached by a charming promenade cut through the woods of the park of Lady Ross. I have seen waterfalls much more considerable, but never any so romantic. On my way I found a little key. 'Oh, you are a happy man,' said my conductor, 'that's a sign of good luck.' 'Good or bad,' I answered, 'it is certainly a sign of a lock.' Returning to Glasgow, my travelling companions, as is the custom in this good city, overwhelmed me without mercy with their talk of money, banks, cotton, goods, bills, &c., until I wished to have my ears stopped. Money, money was always there. If, instead of taking the way to my ears, it had found its way to my pocket, I might have become accustomed to it in the end.
Again I had the pleasure to pass two or three charming days with Mr. Oswald at Scotstown. I think I may say without vanity that I have profited by my exile. There is not a corner of Scotland or of Ireland where I have not been received with politeness, and often with most remarkable kindness. Besides the amiable family at Scotstown, Dr. Wright and Mr. Brown treated me in a very friendly way. If ever the glorious days of France come back, and if I am able to return to my penates,<45> I shall have very agreeable remembrances of my days here.
Trade in Glasgow was pretty good in spite of the war. The shows were all going as in ordinary times, and I had the pleasure to see an audience bursting with laughter at the agonies of Beverley, and nearly weeping at a farce. It must be horrible for an actor to find his efforts accepted in this manner. Next day I travelled in the coach to Ayr with the comedians I had seen playing, and they were still stunned. They found at Ayr a vessel which took them straight to Dublin, the voyage lasting one or two days, and the charge for the passage very moderate. But I, wishing to finish my travels, let them go that way while I proceeded to Portpatrick, and embarked there. After being tossed for thirteen or fourteen hours I found myself again in the land of St. Patrick.