CHAPTER XXIX
Aberdeen, the Granite City. – No sign of the Statue of "you know whom." – All Grey. – The Town and its Suburbs. – Character of the Aberdonian. – Why London could not give an Ovation to a Provost of Aberdeen. – Blue Hill. – Aberdeen Society. – A thoughtful Caretaker. – To this Aberdonian's Disappointment, I do not appear in Tights before the Aberdeen Public.
It does not enter into the plan of this book to give a detailed description of the principal towns and sites in Scotland. That can be found in any guide-book.
The aim of this little volume is to give an idea of the character and customs of the Scotch, from Souvenirs of several visits made by the author to the land of Burns and Scott.
But a few words must be said on the subject of the City of Granite.
Aberdeen is a large, clean-looking town, with more than a hundred thousand inhabitants; wide, regular streets, fine edifices, and many statues, among which we are happy, for a change, not to find that of you know whom.
If Glasgow and Dundee are the principal centres of commercial activity in Scotland, Edinburgh and Aberdeen are the two great centres of learning.
Union Street, the principal thoroughfare, is about half-a-mile long, and is built entirely of light grey granite, which gives it a rather monotonous aspect. Public buildings, churches, private houses, pavements, all are grey; the inhabitants are mostly dressed in grey, and look where you will, you seem to see nothing but grey.
Just as it is in London, Edinburgh, and Glasgow, the fashionable quarter is the west, and the poor live in the east.
Is this due to chance?
The most conspicuous edifice of the town is the Municipal Building, forming a town hall and a court of justice. The most interesting is Marischal College, the home of the Faculty and School of Medicine, which now form part of the University of Aberdeen, after having had a separate existence for two hundred and sixty-six years. The college is a very fine building, but is unfortunately hemmed in by a number of other buildings which hide its façade.
A mile from the town stands the college of the university (King's College), built in 1495 on the model of the Paris university. Most of the Scotch buildings, which date from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, have a very pronounced French character.
I would advise tourists, who go as far north as Aberdeen, not to miss making the ascension of the Blue Hill, which is about four miles from the town. From the summit of this hill, they will see a delightful panorama of Aberdeen, a stretch of fifty or sixty miles of coast, the ruins of the celebrated castle of Dunnottar, and all the valley of the Dee framed in hills. It is a grand sight; unfortunately, to thoroughly bring out its beauties, a clear sky is essential, and there comes the rub.
The county of Aberdeen is not only one of the great intellectual centres of Scotland, it is the home of Caledonian shrewdness and pawkiness. Aberdeenshire alone furnished more than half the anecdotes collected by Dean Ramsay.
The Aberdonians are the chosen people, the elect of God.
Every Scot is proud of his nationality, but an Aberdonian will tell you: "Not only am I a Scotchman, but I was born in Aberdeen."
And true enough, "tak' awa' Aberdeen, and twal' miles round, and faar are ye?"
It is related that a provost of Aberdeen, having come to London with his wife, someone recommended the lady to be sure and go to Covent Garden to see the opera.
"No," she replied, "we have come to London to be quiet and not to receive ovations. We shall not show ourselves in public during our stay in the capital."
Her resolution was adhered to, and London saw them not.
For the future life, the Aberdonian has no fears, and if he will only recommend you to Saint Peter, you will not have to wait long at the gates of Paradise.
Society in Aberdeen is of the choicest. Its aristocracy is an aristocracy of talent. In Aberdeen, as in Edinburgh, the local lions are the professors of the university, literary people, doctors, barristers, and artists. To cut a figure there, you need not jingle your guineas, but only show your brains and good manners. In Glasgow, show your savoir-faire; but, in Edinburgh and Aberdeen, your savoir-vivre.
I cannot quit the subject of Aberdeen without relating a little incident which exceedingly diverted me.
A few hours before delivering a lecture at the Albert Hall, I paid a visit to the place to see if my reading-desk had been properly arranged. Great was my surprise, on entering the hall, to see near the platform an elegant improvised green-room, curtained off. I asked the caretaker if there was not a retiring-room, in which I could await the moment for beginning my lecture, to which he replied:
"Yes, sir; we have an anteroom over there, but I have set apart this little green-room, because I thought it would be more comfortable for you to go and change your dresses in during the performance."
The worthy fellow evidently imagined that I was going to appear in tights before the lairds of Aberdeen.
The learned professor, who had kindly come to introduce me to my audience, laughed heartily with me over the joke.
CHAPTER XXX
The Thistle. – "Nemo me impune lacessit." – "Honi soit qui Mollet pince." – Political Aspirations of the Scotch. – Signification of Liberalism in Scotland. – Self-Government in the near Future. – Coercive Pills. – The Disunited Kingdom. – The United Empire.
The emblem of Scotland is the thistle, the device Nemo me impune lacessit.
The great Order of Scotland is that of the Thistle, or Saint Andrew, the patron saint of the country, and was instituted by James V. in 1534 – that is to say, about two hundred years after Edward III. of England had founded the Order of the Garter.
A propos of this Garter, what fables and anecdotes have been written! Historians even are not agreed as to the origin of the famous device: Honi soit qui mal y pense.
The explanation which seems to be the most plausible is this:
The Countess of Salisbury, King Edward III.'s mistress, dropped her garter at a ball. The king picked it up; but, as the worthy descendant of a bashful race, he did not attempt to replace it, but turning towards his courtiers, said:
"My lords, honi soit qui mollet pince."
Then he advanced towards the countess and gave her her garter.
The king's expression became corrupted into:
Honi soit qui mal y pense.
This is the correct version, you may depend on it.
The Scots are a nation of hardy, valiant men, whom the English never would have succeeded in conquering by force of arms.
The Scotch will tell you that it was not England that annexed them, it was they who annexed England. Let us not grudge them this consolation, if it gives them any pleasure.
It is a fact that, on the death of Elizabeth, James VI. of Scotland – Mary Stuart's son – was called to fill the English throne, and thus united the crowns of England and Scotland.
But these conquering Scots begin to perceive that they are treated rather like conquered Scots at the Palace of Westminster, and they do not like it.
"They are very quiet under it," you may say; "one does not hear them complaining like the Irish."
That is true: Donald is patient, and knows how to bide his time.
The Irish question overwhelms every other political one just now in England. We all know that the Irish demand Home Rule, and as we do not hear the Scotch and the Welsh talked of, we conclude that these two peoples are comfortably enjoying life under the best of possible governments.
Scotland and Wales content themselves for the present with sending Liberal members to the British Parliament. But with them the word "Liberal" has not the political sense which it possesses in England, it has a rather revolutionary meaning. I do not mean by this that it implies an idea of rebellion.
No. But in their vocabulary it is almost synonymous with autonomist.
The English Liberals are men who are convinced that things are not perfect, and who admit the possibility of reforms.
In the eyes of the Scotch, Liberalism consists in preparing to ask one day for a great reform: Home Rule. Before ten years have passed, we shall see Scotland and Wales electing Home Rule candidates, as Ireland is doing now.
The Scotch will consent to remain British on condition that the English allow them to become Scotch – that is to say, to manage for themselves matters which have no connection with the Empire, and concern the Scotch people alone; such as religion, education, and the administration of justice. They are too shrewd to desire to become once more Scots pure and simple, and so renounce their part and profit in the gigantic concern called the British Empire. They will continue to send members to Westminster to take part in the work of governing the Empire, but they will have a parliament or a council at Edinburgh, whose business it will be to look after matters purely Scotch.
They would be willing to walk hand-in-hand with England, but not by means of handcuffs.
The English are fond of talking of Scotland as if it were a county of England. The Scotch mean that Scotland shall be Scotland.
"Let the English look after England," they say, "and we will look after Scotland. As soon as a question relating to the British Empire arises, we will be as British as they. We do not want to destroy the unity of the Empire, or to break off our relations with the Parliament; but we simply wish to do as we like at home."
There is nothing extraordinary in such a demand.
When the Scotch, or the Irish, win a battle, it is immediately announced in the papers that "the English have gained a victory." But let an Irishman or a Scotchman commit a crime, and John Bull quickly cries out:
"It is an Irishman," or "It is a Scotchman."
"Let it be each one to himself, and each for himself," says Donald, "so long as it is a question of England or Scotland. But when it is a question of the great Motherland, then we will all be Britons."
The English have this good point: they know that it is good policy not to try and prevent the inevitable, but rather to put a good face upon it. They know that that which is given ungraciously is received ungratefully.
They are now administering the eighty-seventh coercive pill to the Irish. That will be the last.
In two or three years time, Ireland will belong to the Irish, as, later on, Scotland will belong to the Scotch.
The United Kingdom will only be the more powerful for it. Having no more internal squabbles to fear, it will present a formidable quadruple breast to the outer world.
London will be the political centre of an immense imperial federation. England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, India, the Cape, Canada, Australia, all will be represented in a Parliament really Britannic. Their capitals will be the respective leaders of this grand team.
The British Empire will be built upon hearts in all parts of the globe.
If there is no longer any United Kingdom, neither will there be a Disunited Kingdom, and instead there will be something much more imposing, much more powerful, there will be