William Blaikie - Thomas Chalmers

As to the ordinary management of his household, being under the control of his sister, it proceeded in the ordinary fashion without much interference from him. He was easy, and easily pleased, but he was not an absent-minded dreamer. At an early period his chemical studies had led him to believe that the time would come when coal-vapour would be purified and used for illuminating houses; and when he got a new manse, he had pipes laid in it, in anticipation of this domestic use. When coffee was introduced as a beverage, he believed that in burnt rye he had found a rival to it, and used to have it produced for his friends. Once when it was proposed to subject the two substances to a sort of competitive trial, and a select company assembled to pass a verdict upon them, a cup of genuine Mocha was first handed round and much approved of; then a second cup was presented, and being tasted was pronounced to be much inferior; whereupon Mr. Chalmers burst into laughter and exclaimed, 'It's your own Mocha coffee, the second cup is just the same article as the first!' At another time, when some friends were to be at dinner, it turned out that the whole resources of the larder could produce nothing but two kinds of dried fish. Nothing daunted, Mr. Chalmers had both of them properly served; and the covers being removed, called on his guests to make their choice. 'This, gentlemen, is salt fish from St. Andrews; and that is salt fish from Dundee.' Of course he had to be often on horseback; but as a horseman he did not excel. 'What most provoked him was the frequency with which his horse threw him. At first he was much interested in noting the intervals between each fall. Taking the average length, and calculating how far a dozen falls would carry him, he resolved to keep the horse till the twelfth fall was accomplished. Extremely fond of such numerical adjustments (a singular result of the mathematical structure of his mind), he was most faithful in counting them. In this instance, however, the tenth fall was so bad that his resolution gave way, and he told his servant to take the horse to the next market and sell him forthwith. 'But remember,' he said, 'you must conceal none of its faults; you must tell that it has thrown its master ten times.' 'But who,' asked the man, 'will think of buying the horse if I tell him all that beforehand?' 'I cannot help that,' said Mr. Chalmers; 'I will have no deception practised, and if nobody will buy the horse, you must just bring him back again.' Nobody did buy the horse; ultimately in return for a book he was transferred to his neighbour, Mr. Thomson of Balmerino, whom the animal served quietly and faithfully for many a year, without showing any vicious tendency; whence it came to be surmised 'that the peculiarities of the case were not in the animal but the restless and energetic horsemanship of the rider!'

His patriotism was intense, and not only did he fulminate against Bonaparte in the pulpit, but he joined the volunteers, and held commissions both as chaplain and lieutenant.

The early years at Kilmany passed with little change except a visit to England in the beginning of 1807. These English visits, rare in those days, enlarged his horizon, and showed him much that he did not find at home. At Liverpool he preached for a Mr. Kilpatrick, and we may gather the character of his ordinary pulpit lessons from his two subjects – in the forenoon on the comforts of religion; in the afternoon on drunkenness. His impression of Woodstock showed that intense admiration of nature which remained to the last: 'I spent two hours in the garden. Never spot more lovely – never scenes so fair and captivating. I lost myself in an elysium of delight, and wept with perfect rapture.' At Oxford there was kindled a reverence for English academical life and learning which never left him. 'I was delighted with the academic air and costume of the place; and amid the grossness of a mercantile age, it is the delight of my spirit to recur to the quiet scenes of philosophy, and contemplate what our ancestors have done for learning, and the respect that they once paid to it.'

Three weeks were spent among the sights of London. He had a lively interest in all he saw, especially in all that concerned science and the mechanical arts. Among his old friends and neighbours were two sons of Fifeshire manses, rising to that high distinction which he coveted in his own department, – John Campbell, afterwards Lord Campbell, and Mr. (afterwards Sir David) Wilkie. He was greatly interested in all he saw of royalty: Windsor, with all its glories; the chapel-royal there, where the King and Queen and Princess Elizabeth seemed so simple, frank, and devout; and he noted especially a view he had of these royal personages at St. James's, when her majesty returned his salutation with a 'condescending notice.' Not in the vulgar sense, but as useful and ornamental elements in the social fabric, he had a high regard for royalty and the nobility. 'I am charmed with the cordial and affectionate loyalty of the people. I saw a glow of reverence and satisfaction on every countenance, and my heart warmed within me.' Sheridan was the great orator of the day, and oftener than once he heard him speak. He used to give two instances of Sheridan's readiness of repartee when standing the fire of the hustings at Westminster. One elector complained that he was not satisfied with his treatment of the Carnatic. 'My dear sir,' he said, with a significant bow, 'the affairs of the Carnatic are in much abler hands.' Another elector, with a very ugly face, raised on the shoulder of the mob, said, 'If you do not alter your ways, I will withdraw my countenance from you.' 'I am delighted to hear it,' said Sheridan, 'for it is the ugliest countenance I ever beheld.'

Cambridge attracted him even more than Oxford: 'It smells of learning all over, and I breathe a fragrancy most congenial to me.' As if he had foreseen Girton and Newnham, he said, 'The very women have an air of academic mildness and simplicity.' He preferred it to Oxford, apparently because its objects of interest were not so concentrated, but really, in all probability, because it was the great sanctuary of mathematical study. 'In Cambridge, everything wears a simplicity and chasteness allied to the character of philosophy, and the venerable name of Newton gives it an interest that can never die.' The glories of York Minster entranced him. Wherever he went he made careful observation alike of all that was beautiful and all that was instructive. He returned to Kilmany in July (1807), after an absence of nearly three months.

Immediately after his return, Mr. Chalmers set himself to prepare for the press a work of considerable size and research, entitled an Inquiry into the Extent and Stability of National Resources . Political economy had always attracted him. At the time of this publication, much fear was expressed that the continued war with Bonaparte, implying the shutting against Britain of all the ports of the countries to which his influence extended, and the confiscation of all cargoes of British goods, would exhaust the resources of the country and ruin its foreign traders. Mr. Chalmers held strongly an opposite opinion. Whether he succeeded in proving his contention may be a question; certainly his position was paradoxical. But his sagacity, as the result has proved, came out in more than one indirect form. With reference to the income-tax, he contended strongly that it ought not to be charged on the whole of a man's income, but only on the part that remained after providing for the necessaries of life. It was only a few years ago that effect was given to this view in the case of small incomes. Another matter for which he contended strongly was our obligation to provide a better living for our soldiers. He denounced the compulsory system of enlistment – it ought to be a voluntary service. And it ought to be a service of limited duration; the nation had no right to make an exception against soldiers and sailors when all other servants were engaged for a limited number of months or years. 'Let it no longer be a slavery for life, and let the burning ignominy of corporal punishment be done away.' It was many years before these suggestions were acted on; Chalmers lived to see his proposal of limited enlistment carried out, when a friend of his own (Lord Panmure, afterwards Earl of Dalhousie) was Secretary at War.