Reminiscences of Arbroath & St Andrews

D. S. Salmond

St Andrews School Companions.

During my first season at St Andrews I was boarded in North Street with Mrs Christie and her daughters, ladies whom I shall never cease to respect and love for their unfailing kindness. It is curious to recall the table of boarders. We sat according to our ages, and this was the order, beginning with the senior boy: —Andrew Chrystal, son of Rev. Dr Chrystal, the late father of the Established Church; Augustus Hope, son of the late Mr James Hope, W.S., Edinburgh; George M. Abbott, son of Major Abbott of the Indian Army, himself now Major or Colonel Abbott; I came next, and next to me sat William Urquhart from Dundee, and next to him my old terpsic-horean companion, already referred to in these notes, Robert Cooper, followed by David Bowman from Pernambuco, South America, a cousin of the Gilroys of Dundee; David Mackenzie from Dundee; John Christie, son of the very worthy farmer of Scotscraig; and last of all, David Keith Murray, brother of the present baronet of Ochtertyre, Crieff, and till lately factor on the Ochtertyre estates. So far as I have been able to gather, there remain only five of the ten. Chrystal died some years ago in America; Hope died young; Urquhart, after a successful career as an engineer and head of the well-known firm of Urquhart, Lindsay & Co., Dundee, died a few years ago ; Mackenzie and Bowman, I believe, died in early life; Abbott is now an officer in the Indian Army; my friend Cooper now lives in Ayr; John Christie is a Lothian farmer; and David Keith Murray is still a dweller in Perthshire, and is highly respected as a lay preacher. I might almost echo the words of Moore—

" When I remember all the friends so linked together I have seen around me fall, like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one who treads alone some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, whose garland's dead, and all but he departed!"

Our first tutor was a great favourite. He is now the Rev. Dr James Robertson of Whittinghame Parish, minister of the present Premier when at home, and author of the charming life of his gifted mother, who was a sister of Lord Salisbury. I shall be surprised if he is not a Moderator of the Established Church Assembly soon. Mr Robertson was a splendid student, but has bettered the promise of his youth as an accomplished theologian of the robust and warmly evangelical type. He was a tall, handsome man of the Tulloch complexion and type, and a considerable athlete. Under him we played cricket with Barty and others whose names became well known in the Established Church. A curious meeting with one of these student fellow-cricketers is worth recalling (for I and one or two more juniors used to play in the University Eleven). In July, 1901, I was smoking a cigar with a stout, elderly clergyman who had that day arrived at a hotel at which I was staying in Skye. We got on to talk of St Andrews and, somehow, about cricket, though I had not even learnt my companion's name. I said cricket was at a rather low ebb during my time till it got an impulse from a divinity student who had come from Edinburgh to be under Tulloch. I said he was a capital bowler and his name was Mackersy. "I am Mackersy!" said my companion. Needless to tell what interesting talks we had during the week which followed as we sat on the garden chairs in the lovely evenings of the summer of 1901—the year of our Glasgow Exhibition. Mr Mackersy has since died. He was a parish minister near Edinburgh and was able to tell many interesting stories of these old days.

Tulloch and Professor Ferrier were the outstanding men of St Andrews in those days. I remember well when Ferrier was candidate for the Chair in Edinburgh and lost it, very much owing to the publication of a pamphlet favouring his rival. The author of the pamphlet was a Mr Cairns of Berwick, who on this occasion first came into prominence—destined to be a man of mark as the Reverend Principal Cairns. He was a man of such talent and capacity for work that he might have attained an even higher position in letters than he did, if he had given himself more to scholarship and less to ecclesiastical work, and secondly if he had taken a wife! But perhaps he did more real good in the path he chose. Besides Tulloch and Ferrier the other professors of the time were mere " buddies"—learned enough, some of them, but of little account as intellectual forces. The late Dr Mark Anderson of St Andrews was a student then.  His notes of the lectures on Church History were a series of grotesque and clever sketches which may still be in existence. He was very clever with his pencil in those days. Some others of the more notable students were the late Dr Wallace and his friend and biographer, Sheriff Campbell Smith; Mr Nicoll, who became the exceedingly able preacher of Free St Stephen's, Glasgow; the Rev. Dr Small, Edinburgh, the historian of the Secession Churches of Scotland; and the Rev. Dr Wallace, now of Hamilton. I was present at a lecture by Ferrier in the public course of lectures given in the city during the winter of 1855-56. The Town Hall was not considered large enough for the occasion, so the meeting took place in the large West English Class Room of the Madras College, which was crowded. The subject was " Macbeth." Of course I was too young to appreciate it, and I just remember his reciting of some passages which contained big swear words. These Ferrier gave out with singular emphasis and naturalness—just as if he had been " addressing " a golf ball in a bunker! I cannot recollect, however, that Ferrier was a golfer, though no figure was more familiar on the links than the handsome one of Principal Tulloch, who in those days drove a very " long ball."

The tutors we had in North Street after Mr Robert-son were not well liked. One came from Carmyllie, was a divinity student, and died long ago in South America. One of them was the victim of a trick which I was wicked enough to teach the other boys. It was, by removing a burner from the gas-pipe and by blowing into the pipe to extinguish every jet in the house. This was, for a time, done very often. It was a dangerous trick, and the inmates of the house never suspected the cause of the frequent and sudden darkness. Even the plumber, who had to be got in, could not understand it; When the class-room became suddenly dark, the boys used to aim dictionaries and other missiles at the devoted head of the tutor. But one day the housemaid discovered one of the younger boys standing on a chair in the shoe-room blowing into the gas-pipe like a porpoise! That finished that trick! On one occasion some three of us turned ill (?) one morning. We had not our lessons very well up. We stayed in bed. By midday we were playing all sorts of pranks, and it was suspected that the curious simultaneous illness of three of us was a sham. We only got a little soup for dinner, and mine, I remember was spoiled by one of my invalid (?) companions emptying the salt cellar into the plate. Tea was also a spare meal, as we were told that overloading the stomach was not good in our weakly condition ! We sent down word after tea that we all felt better, and were to get up. But this was forbidden, and we had no light in the evening. To our chagrin the boys were all allowed to go to see a panorama that evening. There was no more illness in our boarding-house during all the session!

Since the above was written I have read of old Willie Park's death at the age of 71, so that 47 years ago he must have been quite a young man when playing Tom Morris, who was his senior by some dozen years. He looked over 30.

Madras College in 1855-7.

The Madras College was considered a very good academy fifty years ago, but the great advance in education attributable to the Education Act will have left it far behind, if it has not gone forward with the times. I am not aware whether it has or not. The classical department was under Mr Auld, who lived on one side of the handsome gateway. On the other side lived the English master, Mr Armstrong, who had but newly succeeded Mr Young, the author of the hymn, " There is a Happy Land." (Young and Auld—this suited very well as the names of the teachers of English and Classics!) Thanks to Mr Corken, I had no taste for classics, and so was never under Mr Auld. Being a fairly good writer, I was not sent to the writing classes, which were taught by Mr Morrison, a farmer, who owed his position to his being a relative of Dr Bell, the founder of the College. Mr Morrison had the reputation of being an unreasonable " thresher." The arithmetic master was the Rev. Daniel Eraser, who rejoiced in the name of "Shout," from the quality of his strident voice. He, too, was a " leatherer " but a good teacher, though, as his subsequent career showed, he had few qualities which go to the making of a successful clergyman. My three favourite teachers were, Mr Armstrong, Mr Lonie, mathematical master, and Mr Paterson, teacher of drawing. The last two abjured corporal punishment altogether, and Armstrong never punished unless for lying or cheating. And yet all three maintained the best order, inspired their pupils with a love of their studies, and secured their personal affection. They were teachers, in fact, not mere masters as so many conceited dominies are. Here I am much tempted to write an essay upon the genus dominie who, from having so many holidays and from his position as a soft of deity in his class-room, has great temptation to become very lazy and very conceited. Of course, amongst the best teachers there are notable exceptions.

I have not mentioned the teacher of modern languages—Herr Muller. He was a typical German or Austrian—irascible, soldierly in his bearing, and understood to be a " gallant," but a poor teacher. The mark of a sword-cut across his face proclaimed to all the world that he had been wounded in a duel when a student. I took French with him for some time, but made little progress, which I greatly regret to the present day.
My strength was given to English, Geometry, Practical Mathematics, Arithmetic, Geography, and Drawing. I had the honour of being best in English composition in the school and second over all the subjects in Armstrong's department, just losing the medal by a few marks. I was second, my friend Urquhart being first, in Arithmetic, and with him first (equal) in Practical Mathematics and Natural Philosophy, getting also sixth prize in a class of about forty in Algebra. Lonie, our Mathematical teacher, was in almost every respect a model teacher of his department, and we had a real affection for " Billum," as he was called. Undersized but athletic, without the sight of one of his eyes (he made up for it by the brilliance of the other), smart in his movements, and a strict disciplinarian, he made his class a real training ground—not a mere preparation for passing in a standard by the stuffing of his pupils' minds and memories, as is so much the case nowadays. He did not grudge the time to lecture us on such subjects as ambition to excel in learning. I am sure many of his pupils still remember him reciting " Excelsior" in his jerky, enthusiastic style.

Many of the pupils of the Madras College in those days came from abroad — India, Ireland, and the Colonies, but a great many were the sons of "cock lairds " and farmers in Fife. Some of my fellow-pupils have attained to good positions, but I know of none who have become pre-eminent in any walk. It is pathetic to think of our being so scattered over all the world now. And it is still more pathetic that so many are dead. But it is most pathetic of all to know that many turned out badly and died comparatively young.

During my second year I lodged in College Street in a small room. The Rev. Dr Robert Small had rooms next to mine. He was finishing his arts course and doing some teaching. Almost every night I spent an hour in his room, and the conversations I had with him are one of my pleasantest memories. He was a great admirer of his fellow-churchman, Gilfillan, and was able to repeat many really eloquent passages from his writings. Small came from the cradle of the Secession, near Kinross, and it was fitting that he should be the historian of its congregations. He is still minister of a U.F. Church in Edinburgh. Across the street from us lodged James Fullerton, who used to do his lessons with me. He was till lately a leading merchant in Dundee. He did not complete the session of 1856-57, but left to enter the office of Messrs Baxter Brothers & Coy. I spent part of the Christmas holidays of 1856 with him at his father's farm, Ardestie, near Monifieth, and one of the days when there I heard of the melancholy end of Hugh Miller.

The winters of 1855-57 must have been severe, for I remember of several " ice day" holidays when we went in great numbers to Kilconquhar, Strathtyrum, and Leuchars to skate. They were nice days! I think I never was so tired as when walking the five miles back after a hard day's skating. Both summers were fine, and next to golf and cricket our chief amusement was in bathing at the Step Rock. Although I had got so far in swimming at the " Bools " in Arbroath as to be able to swim a yard or two, it was at St Andrews I really learnt the art. In 1857 I was bold enough to enter in the competition of the Madras Swimming Club for a 150 yards race. We undressed in a boat and dived into deep water. After a severe struggle I came in only fourth in a race of some ten lads. The " Step " was the scene of many a jolly swim, as were the Links of many a delightful game of golf and cricket.

The only three " characters" in St Andrews of whom I have any recollection were the man with a wooden leg who was custodian of the Castle ruins; Mr Peattie, the University janitor; and a labourer called " the British Lion." The last-named, when he " got a dram," went along the middle of the street yelling and cursing, and clenching his fists and stamping with his feet in such a manner as to be quite awe-inspiring. I often used to wonder the police authorities allowed the exhibition. The keeper of the Castle grounds used to have a sing-song story which he droned while showing the famous window (where Cardinal Beaton sat and viewed the execution of Wishart) and the bottle dungeon, into which he lowered a lighted candle. He used to say, " This was where the martyre were kept privious to their execution." It used to be famous sport to interject absurd questions and so throw the worthy creature off the rails in the telling of his story. Tammy Peattie was the other " character." It was said that he used to impress upon his wife conjugal obedience by saying, " Remember, though you are Janet, I am janitor!"