Section II Anne Grant
“We have no hesitation in attesting our belief that Mrs. Grant’s writings have produced a strong and salutary effect upon her countrymen, who not only found recorded in them much of national history and antiquities, which would otherwise have been forgotten, but found them combined with the soundest and best lessons of virtue and morality.”
Sir Walter Scott.
LETTER-WRITERS.
A good deal of literary fame has been won by letter-writing. It were easy to name authors whose letters are generally considered as their best works, and who owe their position in British literature, to those pictures of society and manners, compounded of wit and gaiety, shrewd observations, sarcasm, censoriousness, high life, and sparkling language, for which their correspondence is remarkable. We might refer, in proof of our position, to a celebrated peer, who was the most accomplished man of his age. In point of morality his letters are not defensible. Johnson said that they taught the morals of a courtesan with the manners of a dancing-master. But they are also characterised by good sense and refined taste, and are models of literary art. The copyright was sold for £1500, and five editions were called for within twelve months. Authoresses have also been distinguished for the excellence and extent of their epistolary correspondence. We might adduce as an example a noble lady, who to her myrtle-crown of beauty, and her laurel-crown of wit, added the oaken-leaved crown,—the corona civica,—due to those who have saved fellow-creatures’ lives. For graphic power, clearness, and idiomatic grace of style, no less than as pictures of foreign scenery, and manners, and decisiveness about life, her letters have very few equals, and scarcely any superiors. There can be no doubt as to the utility and importance of letter-writing, yet few seem to cultivate with care this department. But let us rejoice, that though the excuses and apologies of the majority prove that they are not what we conventionally term good correspondents, yet there are some splendid exceptions, who are aware of the importance of this art as a means of promoting social affection, and moral pleasure and profit, and whose style scarcely yields in simplicity, playfulness, and ease, to the eminent examples already cited.
BIOGRAPHY.
Anne Macvicar, was born at Glasgow, on the 21st of February, 1755. She was an only child. Her father, Duncan Macvicar, she describes as having been “a plain, brave, pious man.” He appears to have been brought up to an agricultural life, but having caught the military spirit, which in that day was almost universal among the Scottish Highlanders, he became an officer in the British army. Her mother was a descendant of the ancient family of Stewart of Invernahyle in Argyleshire. She was a Lowlander only by the mere accident of her birthplace. Nursed at Inverness, the home of her grandmother, the earliest sights and sounds with which she was familiar, were those of Highland scenery and Highland tongues.
In a paper containing a rapid view of her childhood, she says, “I began to live to the purposes of feeling, observation, and recollection, much earlier than children usually do. I was not acute, I was not sagacious, but I had an active imagination and uncommon powers of memory. I had no companion; no one fondled or caressed me, far less did any one take the trouble of amusing me. I did not till the sixth year of my age possess a single toy. A child with less activity of mind, would have become torpid under the same circumstances. Yet whatever of purity of thought, originality of character, and premature thirst for knowledge distinguished me from other children of my age, was, I am persuaded, very much owing to these privations. Never was a human being less improved, in the sense in which that expression is generally understood; but never was one less spoiled by indulgence, or more carefully preserved from every species of mental contagion. The result of the peculiar circumstances in which I was placed had the effect of making me a kind of anomaly very different from other people, and very little influenced by the motives, as well as very ignorant of the modes of thinking and acting, prevalent in the world at large.” These singular influences directed her to authorship in the first instance, and gave much of its interest to what she wrote.
When eighteen months old, she was brought back to Glasgow, that her father might have a parting look of her before leaving his native country for America, in the 77th regiment of foot. His wife and daughter remained in Glasgow, in the eastern extremity of the town. Probably from hearing her mother describing the New World as westward, Anne Macvicar set out one Sunday evening, when only two years and eight months old, and walked a mile to the west of the Trongate. A lady saw, with some surprise, a child neatly dressed in white, with bare head and bare arms, walking alone in the middle of the street. She asked her where she came from; but the only answer was, “from mamma’s house.” Then she inquired where she was going, and was told in a very imperfect manner “to America, to seek papa.” However, while the lady was lost in wonder, a bell was heard in the street, and the public crier had the pleasure of restoring the young traveller to her mother.
In 1758, she arrived with her mother at Charleston, and soon after they were settled at Claverock, where Mr. Macvicar was stationed with a party of Highlanders. Here she not only learned to read, but to love truth and simplicity. Her father meanwhile being engaged in active service.
In 1760, he returned from the campaign, and they went to Albany, on the Hudson River, where she saw the Highland soldiers dragging through the streets the cannon destined for the attack on the Havannah. She thus describes an excursion about this time up the Hudson in boats. “We had a most romantic journey; sleeping sometimes in the woods, sometimes in forts, which formed a chain of posts in the then trackless wilderness. We had no books but the Bible and some military treatises; but I grew familiar with the Old Testament; and a Scotch sergeant brought me ‘Blind Harry’s Wallace;’ which by the aid of such sergeant, I conned so diligently, that I not only understood the broad Scotch, but caught an admiration for heroism, and an enthusiasm for Scotland, that ever since has been like a principle of life.”
She returned from Oswego to Albany in 1766; and, on her way back, a Captain Campbell gave her a handsome copy of Milton; concerning which she says, “I studied, to very little purpose no doubt, all the way down in the boat; but which proved a treasure to me afterwards, as I never rested till I found out the literal meaning of the words; and, in progress of time, at an age I am ashamed to mention, entered into the full spirit of it. If I had ever any elevation of thought, expansion of mind, or genuine taste for the sublime or beautiful, I owe it to my diligent study of this volume.” Facts prove that the growth of mind is best promoted by that which at first it is capable of understanding only partially. This is clear from what came out of Anne Macvicar’s study of Paradise Lost. The most eminent woman in Albany at that time was the widow of Colonel Schuyler. Her house was the resort of all strangers, whose manners or conduct entitled them to her regard. Her ancestors, understanding, and education, gave her great influence in society, which was increased by the liberal use she made of her large fortune. “Some time after our arrival at Albany,” writes our authoress, “I accompanied my parents one evening to visit Madame Schuyler, whom I regarded as the Minerva of my imagination, and treasured all her discourses as the veritable words of wisdom. The conversation fell upon dreams and forewarnings. I rarely spoke till spoken to at any time; but of a sudden the spirit moved me to say that bad angels sometimes whispered dreams into the soul. When asked for my authority, I surprised every one, but myself most of all, by a long quotation from Eve’s fatal dream infusing into her mind the ambition that led to guilt. After this happy quotation I became a great favourite, and Madame Schuyler never failed to tell any one who had read Milton of the origin of her partiality.” At this time Anne Macvicar was hardly seven years old.
Mr. Macvicar, like most Scotchmen, had the faculty of making money, and with the view of settling in America had obtained a large grant of land, and had purchased several valuable properties, the market value of which was every day rising. Miss Macvicar was looked upon as an heiress; but her father, falling into bad health, was obliged to return to Scotland in 1768, bringing his wife and daughter along with him. He had left America without being able to dispose of his property, and on the breaking out of the revolutionary war, the whole was confiscated by the republican government.
In 1773, her father was appointed barrack master of Fort Augustus, in Inverness-shire. Here she first met the Rev. James Grant, a young clergyman of refined mind, sound principle, and correct judgment. At that time he was chaplain to the garrison, but in 1776, he became the minister of Laggan, a neighbouring parish, and in 1779, was united in marriage to Miss Macvicar. In that Highland parish, fifty miles from Perth, and the same distance from Inverness, they lived contentedly in the chosen lot of Agur.
Time flowed on characterised by the usual amount of shadow and sunshine. In 1801, her husband was carried off by consumption; and she found herself burdened with the care of eight children, to which was added the pressure of some pecuniary obligations incurred by a too liberal hospitality. The children inherited the same insidious disease. Three sank under their mother’s eyes in infancy, and the eldest, who held a commission in the army, died a few months before his father. Of twelve sons and daughters only one survived her.
All her certain income was a small pension from the War Office, to which she was entitled in consequence of her husband having obtained a military chaplaincy a few years before his death. In these circumstances, her first step was to take charge of a small farm in the neighbourhood of Laggan; but this expedient soon failed.
In 1803, she unwillingly removed from Laggan to Woodend, now called Gartur, two miles south-west of Stirling, a place of unrivalled beauty. In 1806, we find Mrs. Grant residing in Stirling, so renowned in Scottish history, and supporting herself and family by literature.
In 1810, Mrs. Grant removed from Stirling to Edinburgh, where she spent the remainder of her life, distinguished in society for her great talents, and esteemed for her many virtues. Her object in making the capital her home, and the circle in which she mingled, are fully described in her correspondence.
In 1820, she fell down a stair, which caused serious injury, followed by long and severe suffering, and by lameness for the rest of her days. In 1825, a pension, which at first amounted to only £50, but was afterwards increased to £100 per annum, was granted her by government, in consequence of an application in her behalf, which was drawn out by Sir Walter Scott, and subscribed by the most distinguished literati in Edinburgh; who therein declared their belief that Mrs. Grant had rendered eminent services to the cause of religion, morality, knowledge, and taste.
Notwithstanding many and heavy family trials, this strong-hearted woman continued to correspond with her friends, and receive those who visited her, until the end of October, 1838, when she was seized with a severe attack of influenza. Her son was with her during her last illness, and she was sedulously attended by a lady and servants. She died at her house 9, Manor Place, on the 7th November, 1838, at the advanced age of eighty-four years.
A few days afterwards, a mournful multitude followed her remains to the cemetery of St. Cuthbert’s, then nearly new. She was buried near the graves of four of her daughters. Her son erected a monument to her memory.
LITERARY CAREER.
We receive a vast amount of education from the localities in which we live. From the sketch of her own life it is evident that Mrs. Grant was well aware of the educative influence of scenery. Who can tell how much she learned, during the ten years she lived beside the vast lakes, the magnificent rivers, and the primæval forests of America; and the thirty years spent amid the beauties and glories of the Highlands, apart from all set teaching, away from all formal schools. It is good to see the horizon one red line, pointing like a finger to the unrisen sun—to hear the earliest notes of the birds—to trample on the emerald grass and the blooming heather—to notice the “morning spread upon the mountains,” peak telegraphing to peak that the king of day has just entered the sky—to listen to such stories as lonely hills and misty moors alone can inspire. In this sublime natural system of education, Mrs. Grant had a large share. It stirred her warm imagination, and nourished her poetic faculty.
After the death of her excellent husband, Mrs. Grant had mainly to depend for bread to herself and children, upon her own exertions. In these circumstances she was led to try whether she could not better her fortunes by the exercise of her literary talents, hitherto employed only for her own amusement and the gratification of a few intimate friends. Her first essay at poetry was scrawled in a kind of Miltonic verse, when little more than nine years old. She wrote no more till she wandered on the banks of the Cart, and afterwards at Fort Augustus, and again upon her way home to Laggan, after spending some months at Glasgow. All these scraps she gave away, without preserving a single copy. But the friends among whom Mrs. Grant scattered her verses carefully treasured them, and in 1803, her first publication—“The Highlanders, and other Poems”—was announced to be published by subscription; and so well did her friends exert themselves, that three thousand subscribers were soon procured. This volume, though not reviewed in the most flattering terms, was well received by the public; and its profits enabled Mrs. Grant to discharge her debts. The following description of the Highland poor, is from the principal poem in the collection:—
“Where yonder ridgy mountains bound the scene,
The narrow opening glens that intervene
Still shelter, in some lonely nook obscure,
One poorer than the rest, where all are poor:
Some widowed matron, hopeless of relief,
Who to her secret breast confines her grief;
Dejected sighs the wintry night away,
And lonely muses all the summer day.
Her gallant sons, who, smit with honour’s charms,
Pursued the phantom Fame through war’s alarms,
Return no more; stretched on Hindostan’s plain,
Or sunk beneath the unfathomable main,
In vain her eyes the watery waste explore
For heroes—fated to return no more!”
“The Highlanders,” which gives the title to the book, is a poetical regret at the hard fate that forced so many to emigrate. The other poems are on a variety of topics, chiefly in illustration of the manners of the people among whom she lived. Take the following stanza on a sprig of heather:—
“Flower of the wild! whose purple glow
Adorns the dusky mountain’s side,—
Not the gay hues of Iris’ horn,
Nor garden’s artful varied pride;
With all its wealth of sweets could cheer,
Like thee, the hardy mountaineer.”
One of her songs, commencing, “Oh, where, tell me where?” written on the occasion of the Marquis of Huntly’s departure for Holland with his regiment, the 92nd, or Gordon Highlanders, in 1799, has become generally known. We select the following verse as a specimen:—
“Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
Oh, what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star;
A bonnet with a lofty plume, the gallant badge of war,
And a plaid across the manly breast that soon shall wear a star.”
The merit, however, of Mrs. Grant’s poems was really slight; but success prompted another attempt at authorship. The result was her best and most popular work, the “Letters from the Mountains,” which was published in 1806, went through several editions, and was highly appreciated among the talented and influential men of the day. No person was so much astonished as herself on hearing that “Letters from the Mountains,” divided with some other publications the attention of readers. In October, 1807, she writes:—“Longman, who is doubtless the prince of booksellers, has written me a letter, expressed with such delicacy and liberality as is enough to do honour to all Paternoster Row: he tells me that the profits of the second edition of the Letters amount to £400, of which they keep £100 to answer for bad debts and uncalculated expenses, and against the beginning of next year I get the other £300.” Publishers, as a rule, deal liberally with popular writers. “Memoirs of an American Lady, with Sketches, Manners, and Scenery in America, as they existed previous to the Revolution,” were published in 1808. She received £200 as profits from the New World. “Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland, with Traditions from the Gaelic,” appeared in 1811; and in no degree detracted from her well-earned literary reputation. A poem, entitled “Eighteen Hundred and Thirteen,” was published in 1814. Afterwards her pen was occasionally employed in magazine contributions. In 1821, the Highland Society of London awarded her their gold medal for the best essay on the “Past and Present State of the Highlands of Scotland.”
In the words of a competent critic, “The writings of this lady display a lively and observant fancy, and considerable powers of landscape painting. They first drew attention to the more striking and romantic features of the Scottish highlands, afterwards so fertile a theme for the genius of Scott.”
CHARACTER OF MRS. GRANT.
Mrs. Grant was tall, and, in her youth, slender, but after her accident she became rather corpulent. In her later years she was described as a venerable ruin; so lame as to be obliged to walk with crutches, and even with that assistance her motions were slow and languid. Her broad and noble forehead, relieved by the parted grey hair, excelled even youthful beauty. There was a dignity and a sedateness in her carriage which rendered her highly interesting, and her excellent constitution bore her through a great deal.
Her conversation was original and characteristic; frank, yet far from rude; replete at once with amusement and instruction. For nearly thirty years she was a principal figure in the best and most intellectual society of the Scottish metropolis; and to the last her literary celebrity made her an object of curiosity and attraction to strangers from all parts of the world. The native simplicity of her mind, and an entire freedom from all attempt at display, made the youngest person feel in the presence of a friend. Her extensive correspondence, she believed, had a tendency to prolong her life. She was fond of having flowers and birds in her sitting room. Nature in all her phases, aspects, and transitions, had charms for her. Notwithstanding her increasing infirmities, and even with the accumulated sorrows of her peculiar lot, she did not find old age so dark and unlovely as the Celtic bard.
The cheerfulness of Mrs. Grant, and the lively appreciation she had of everything done to promote her comfort, rendered her, to the latest period of her prolonged existence, a delightful companion; while the warm interest she felt in whatever contributed to the happiness of others, kept her own affections alive. She was left a widow, without fortune, and with a large family dependent upon her for their subsistence. Surely if any one had a clear title of immunity from the obligation to carry her cares beyond her own threshold, it was this woman. Yet she devoted much of her time to benevolent efforts. If there was any quality of her well-balanced mind which stood out more prominently than another, it was that benevolence which made her study the comfort of every person who came in contact with her. Many and hard were her struggles for life, but she never lost confidence in Divine goodness.