Frederick Douglass in Edinburgh, Scotland, Part 1: Strike for Freedom Exhibit at the National Library of Scotland

Strike for Freedom Frederick Douglass exhibit poster, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, 2018, featuring an 1853 engraved portrait by John Buttre

Thursday, October 4th, 2018

This afternoon’s an exciting one: it’s the opening day of the Strike for Freedom exhibit at the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh, Scotland. It features photos, letters, books, memorabilia, and more relating to Frederick Douglass and his family, friends, and colleagues, who spoke and worked for the abolition of slavery and equal rights in the antebellum United States and beyond.

Frederick Douglass is featured here at the NLS because he became an especially well-known abolitionist speaker in Scotland. Douglass traveled to the British Isles in August of 1845 following the publication of his Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. He planned to kill two birds with one stone when he crossed the Atlantic: one, he would escape the danger of re-capture by his legal owner with the help of the information contained in the Narrative and two, he would add his voice to the growing antislavery movement in Britain. After touring Ireland, Douglass arrived in Ardrossan, Scotland on January 10th, 1846. Not long after his arrival, Douglass became involved in the ‘Send Back the Money!’ campaign, which called on the newly formed Free Church of Scotland to return donations from American congregations who supported slavery. Though the campaign did not succeed in persuading the Church to return the funds, Douglass’ speeches were immensely popular and he garnered a huge amount of support for the various causes he spoke for, including abolition, temperance, and equal access to public modes of transport and accommodations regardless of race.

Frederick Douglass items in Strike for Freedom exhibit, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh, 2018. At bottom left is the first Irish printing of Douglass’ Narrative, published by abolitionist Richard Webb, with a frontispiece portrait signed ‘B. Bell.’ Douglass hated the portrait, and though Webb took offense at Douglass’ reaction to it, he duly replaced it with another in subsequent printings. This is the very same copy from the NLS’ collection I consulted this summer when researching my master’s dissertation.

The Strike for Freedom exhibit’s opening is kicked off today with a fascinating and rousing talk by Celeste-Marie Bernier, who was instrumental in arranging this exhibit. The focus of her talk was how Douglass did not become the great man he was alone. His wife Anna Murray; his daughters and sons Rosetta, Lewis Henry, Frederick Jr., Charles Remond, and Annie; and his mother and grandmother Harriet and Betsy Bailey were all instrumental in helping him become the man he was. They functioned as inspirations, teachers, helpmeets, companions, consciences, correctives, encouragers, amanuenses, and above all, sources of love, pride, and joy for Frederick in every stage of his growth from slave child, to self-emancipated young man, to husband and father, to activist and author, to American statesman and moral leader.

The Strike for Freedom exhibit centers around Douglass family artifacts (mostly original with occasional facsimiles) from the Walter O. Evans collection. Dr. Evans and his wife Linda are major collectors of African-American art, but Dr. Evans has also gathered a massive collection of African-American documents, photos, and other artifacts throughout the course of his life. The exhibit also includes at least one item from the NLS’ own collection, and images from the Maryland State Archives, the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, the Library of Congress, the Central Library of Rochester & Monroe County in New York, and the National Park Service’s Frederick Douglass National Historic Site in Washington, D.C.

Frederick Douglass in Edinburgh map, Strike for Freedom exhibit, National Library of Scotland, 2018

As I head for the exhibit after the talk, I pass by a large glass case with a map laid out, marked with pins and labels. It shows the location of Edinburgh sites associated with Douglass’ visits to Scotland. I’ll be covering these Edinburgh sites as I take my own journey through Edinburgh following Douglass, stay tuned!

Here are just some of the artifacts I saw in the exhibit. No doubt, I’ll be sharing more with you throughout my Douglass in the British Isles series as they relate to the stories.

Jesse Glasgow’s book on Harper’s Ferry and John Brown and a ‘Send Back the Money!’ anti-slavery meeting pamphlet at the Strike for Freedom exhibit at the NLS, 2018. Glasgow was a classics student at the University of Edinburgh and unfortunately, died young in 1860, at only age 23, having already become a published author and an award-winning scholar.

Lewis Henry and Helen Amelia Longuen Douglass photos and letter, Strike for Freedom exhibit at the NLS, 2018. Lewis was Douglass’ eldest son, and Amelia was a member of a prominent abolitionist family. The love letters between Lewis, away fighting in the Civil War, and his beloved Amelia tell a revealing and fascinating story of love among war and the fight for equality.

Frederick Douglass’ Family Story photos and artifacts at the Strike for Freedom exhibit at the NLS, 2018. At the top, from left to right clockwise, are pictured Rosetta, the Douglass’ eldest daughter; Anna Murray, Douglass’ first wife and mother of all of his children; the Douglass’ middle child Frederick Douglass, Jr.; Douglass with his second wife Helen Pitts (sitting) and her sister Eva (standing); and Douglass with his grandson Joseph (standing), a famous violinist. The four-page document is a speech written by Charles Remond Douglass titled ‘Some Incidents of the Home Life of Frederick Douglass’ in which he describes Douglass’ civil rights work as a family affair.

Frederick Douglass’ Family Story photos and artifacts, Strike for Freedom exhibit at the NLS, 2018

After a good long visit to the exhibit and chatting with some fellow attendees at the talk (including an all-too-brief chat with Dr. Evans), I depart, inspired, happy with the new things I’ve learned, and excited to continue my journey through texts and physical places following Douglass in the British Isles.

The National Library of Scotland’s Strike for Freedom exhibit will be continuing through February 16th, 2019.

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

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Sources and Inspiration:

Bernier, Celeste-Marie, and Andrew Taylor. If I Survive: Frederick Douglass and Family in the Walter O. Evans Collection. Edinburgh University Press, 2018

Delatinerjan, Barbara. ‘Interest in Black Art Just Grew and Grew.New York Times, Jan 30, 2000

Jesse Ewing Glasgow, Jr. (c. 1837-1860)‘, Falvey Memorial Library at Villanova University website

Murray, Hannah Rose. Frederick Douglass in Britain and Ireland

Our Bondage and Our Freedom: An international project celebrating the 200 year anniversary of the birth of African American activist and author, Frederick Douglass. School of Literatures, Languages and Cultures, University of Edinburgh website

Pettinger, Alasdair. Frederick Douglass and Scotland, 1846: Living an Antislavery Life. Edinburgh University Press, 2018

Pettinger, Alasdair. ‘Douglass in Scotland‘ series for bulldozia.com

Happy Birthday, David Hume!

In honor of David Hume‘s birthday, May 7, 1711, let me share anew my history of ideas travel series and other pieces I’ve written in honor of my favorite philosopher if I was pressed to chose only one. I fell in love with his native Edinburgh when I originally visited in the spring of 2014 but even so, I wouldn’t have predicted I would now be living here furthering my education at his alma mater, the University of Edinburgh. It would have been even more impossible to predict that the window of my flat would be located directly across the narrow square from the University’s David Hume Tower. I was moved to observe one day, and still am whenever I think or tell of it, that the windows of that glassy tower often reflect the light of the rising sun into my window. I could imagine no more poetic image than that of how this great Enlightenment thinker has influenced my life.

Here they are in the order I wrote them, starting several years back. Perhaps you’ll find, as I do when I return to old pieces from time to time, that my thinking has developed and my mind has changed, to various degrees, on some things:

First Day in Old Edinburgh: Hume Sites and Monuments
Hume’s New Scene of Thought, and, It’s Good to Be Able to Say ‘I Don’t Know’
Hume Sites and Monuments, Part 2
The Consolations of Philosophy, and A Death Free from Fear
Scotticisms
Happy 303rd Birthday, David Hume!
The Debate Over Government and Freedom
The Tale of the Magic Toe – Superstition? Or What?
Hume Sites and Monuments, Part 3
Water of Leith
Last Day in Edinburgh, May 13th, 2014
Hume, Aristotle, and Guns
A memory quilt I created for my Edinburgh trip:
A Hill and a Wall in Edinburgh, 2015, 102″ x 69″
Enlightenment Scotland: Site of James Boswell’s Home in James Court, Edinburgh
Enlightenment Scotland: Advocates Library, Edinburgh
Chirnside and Ninewells, Scottish Borders, Childhood and Summer Home of David Hume
Enlightenment Scotland: Edinburgh’s Select Society
Photobook: Robert Adam, Architect of Edinburgh
Photobook: Letter from David Hume to James Balfour, Mar 15, 1753

*A version of this piece was previously published at Ordinary Philosophy

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

Photobook: Magdalen Chapel, Edinburgh, Scotland

Magdalen Chapel, built in 1541 in the Cowgate, Edinburgh, Scotland. This lovely little church, like so many of the oldest places of worship in Scotland, saw much drama over the centuries, involved as it was as the Catholic and Protestant battle to retain and to win over the hearts and consciences of the people. Covenanters executed nearby in the Grassmarket in the 1680’s were brought here and their bodies prepared for burial. The Chapel now belongs to the Scottish Reformation Society.

Magdalen Chapel historical plaques, Cowgate, Edinburgh, Scotland

View upon entering the Magdalen Chapel. The four stained glass roundels to the right are, according to Edinburgh.org’s 101 Objects project, ‘the only pre-Reformation stained glass of any importance surviving in-situ in Scotland.’ They ‘depict the coats of arms of Mary of Guise (mother to Mary Queen of Scots), the Scots Lion Rampant, and those of Michael MacQahane and his wife Janet Rynd.’

Interior view of the Magdalen Chapel, facing the choir (west) and the 1708 Deacon’s Chair

Interior view of the Magdalen Chapel, facing east. To the left, against which the facsimile of the Covenant of Scotland is leaning, is the small table on which the bodies of executed Covenanters were laid to prepare them for burial

Facsimile of the National Covenant of Scotland, signed in nearby Grayfriar’s Kirkyard in 1638

Mementos, memorials, and more on a wall of the Magdalen Chapel

Fragment of the original painted oak ceiling of the Magdalen Chapel

Painted panel with the insignia of the City of Edinburgh and other symbolic images in Edinburgh’s Magdalen Chapel

~ Ordinary Philosophy is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Any support you can offer will be deeply appreciated!

O.P. Recommends: Frederick Douglass at In Our Time by BBC Radio 4 with Melvin Bragg and Guests

Two portraits of Frederick Douglass from the Hutchinson Family scrapbook at the Lynn Historical Society & Museum, photo by Amy Cools

I’m particularly excited to share this new episode of In Our Time because it’s on a subject particularly dear to my heart and stimulating to my mind: the life and ideas of the great human rights advocate Frederick Douglass. Born a slave in Maryland in 1818, his story as a self-made man starts with refusal: refusal of enforced ignorance; refusal to be cowed and beaten; refusal to stay in a situation where anyone claimed a right to own his person; refusal to stay silent about abuses against his fellow black humanity and against women, immigrants, and the poor; refusal to allow white abolitionists to tell him what to believe and how to present himself. In sum, Douglass refused to be anything other than or less than what he believed he could and should be.

Douglass went on to have one of the most impressive, distinguished, thoughtful, and dogged careers fighting for the rights of everyone that he perceived suffering under the worst excesses of human greed, bigotry, and moral passivity. He did so with passion and exceptional oratorial skill. All in all, I find Douglass to be one of the most memorable and inspiring human beings to ever have lived.

In their discussion on Douglass, Melvyn Bragg and his guests Karen Salt,  Nicholas Guyatt, and Celeste-Marie Bernier, the University of Edinburgh’s own Professor of Black Studies in the English Department with fill you in on many fascinating details about his life, work, and thought. I’m pleased and excited to say that Professor Bernier has recently invited me to join her in-progress project Our Bondage and Our Freedom in celebration of the bicentennial of Douglass’ birth.

Interior of the Theological School Library at the University of Edinburgh’s New College

Enjoy!

An update on my own work on Douglass: my Master’s degree studies are keeping me so occupied at the moment that I barely have time for my other research, let alone time to write it all up. At the moment, my Douglass research is taking me to the Special Collections of the Theological School Library, at the New College of the University of Edinburgh. I’m reading through Thomas Chalmers’ papers and other documents pertaining to the ‘Send Back the Money!’ campaign and the Scottish abolitionist movement. So fascinating, and I look forward very much to sharing what I find with you!

Ordinary Philosophy and its Traveling Philosophy / History of Ideas series is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Please offer your support today!

Robert Burns Letter at the National Library of Scotland in Honor of the Bard’s Birthday

Robert Burns letter to William Niven, 30 August 1786, at National Library of Scotland, special showing 25 January 2018

Robert Burns, aka ‘the Bard’, is, as you may know, one of Scotland’s most honored sons. His poems and songs are widely regarded as among the most beautiful and resonant literary creations of all of Scotland’s people. Some of the people I’ve written about for Ordinary Philosophy were inspired and influenced by Burns, notably Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass. I’ll be writing much more and regularly about Burns before long in the context of my upcoming Frederick Douglass in Scotland series and pieces on the Scottish history of ideas, stay tuned!

In honor of Robert Burns’s birthday celebration, aka Burns Night, the National Library of Scotland put one of his original letters on display for a few hours today, with a little informational card that provides a brief context. I’ll be elaborating on the significance of his planned emigration to Jamaica in my next Douglass series as well.

The letter reads:

My Dr Friend,

I have been very throng every since I saw you, and have not got the wh[ole of my] promise performed to you: but you know [the old] Proverb “The break o’ day’s no the bre[ak o’ a] bargain” – Have patience and I will [pay you] all. – I thank you with the most heart-felt sincerity for the worthy knot of lads you introduced me to. – Never did I meet with so many congenial souls together, without one dissonant jar in the Concert. To all and each of them make my friendly Complnts particularly “spunkie, youthfu’ Tammy.” Remember me in the most respectful [manner to the] Baillie, and Mrs Niven, Mr Dun, and the two truly worthy old Gentlemen I had the honor of being introduced to on Friday; tho’ I am afraid the conduct you forced me on may make them see me in a light I would fondly think I do not deserve. –

I will perform the rest of my promise soon. – In the mean time, remember this, never blow my Songs amo[ng] the Million, as I would abhor to hear every Prentice mouthing my poor performances in the streets. – Every one of [my] Maybole friends are welcome to a Copy, if they chuse; but [I w]ish them to go no farther. – I mean it as a small [mark] of my respect for them: a respect as sincere as the [faith] of dying SAINTS. –

I am ever, My Dr Willm Your oblidged,
Robt Burns

Ordinary Philosophy and its Traveling Philosophy / History of Ideas series is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Please offer your support today!

Say What? Frederick Douglass on Originalist Interpretations of the United States Constitution

‘The fact that Mr. [James] Madison can be cited on both sides of this question [of slavery] is another evidence of the folly and absurdity of making the secret intentions of the framers the criterion by which the Constitution is to be construed.’

~ Frederick Douglass, ‘The Constitution of the United States: is it Pro-Slavery or Anti-Slavery?’
Speech delivered in Glasgow, Scotland, March 26th, 1860

Ordinary Philosophy and its Traveling Philosophy / History of Ideas series is a labor of love and ad-free, supported by patrons and readers like you. Please offer your support today!

Chirnside and Ninewells, Scottish Borders, Childhood and Summer Home of David Hume

Visiting David Hume’s tricentennial plaque on Chirnside Community Center, Chirnside, Scottish Borders

Chirnside, Scottish Borders, Friday, December 29th, 2017

I arise early this morning and take a 40-minute train ride east from Edinburgh’s Waverley Station to Berwick-upon-Tweed at the mouth of the River Tweed, in the northeast corner of England. From there, I take the 60 bus east to Chirnside, a twenty-minute ride to a small village of just under 1,500 people. As I leave Berwick-upon-Tweed, a few flurries of snow are gently sprinkling down; when I exit the bus at Chirnside, the snowflakes are larger and fall much more frequently. The bus drops me right across the street from my first destination of the day: the Chirnside Community Center.

Located at the southeast corner of Main and Crosshill, a buttress of the community center sports a plaque for its most famous and accomplished former inhabitant: the great empiricist philosopher and historian David Hume. It was placed here to celebrate the tricentennial of his birth, May 7th, 1711. While Hume was not born here at Chirnside (he was born in Edinburgh), his family returned to Ninewells, the Home family home a little ways southwest of the village, when David was very small. (The family name was spelled H-o-m-e at the time but pronounced ‘Hume’; David changed the spelling so that those outside of Scotland would know how to pronounce his name.) Little David grew up here until he returned to Edinburgh at age eleven to study at the University. Ninewells, on the north bank of the Whiteadder River, later became his summer residence. It was David Hume who first inspired me to visit Edinburgh, upon which I fell in love with that incomparable city. So when I discovered that the University of Edinburgh, Hume’s alma mater, had a master’s program in intellectual history, I applied and they accepted. Now, I live here in beautiful Scotland!

Chirnside Community Center with Hume’s plaque and to the right in the foreground, the memorial clock for Formula One racer Jim Clark, another of Chirnside’s famous one-time residents. Clark, who died in a racing accident, is buried here in Chirnside.

I’ve been planning to take this trip to Chirnside since my 2014 trip to Edinburgh, but I didn’t make it out here then. I’m so excited to be here today, and the snowfall is heightening my sense of adventure. After all, I grew up and lived in California nearly all of my life, and falling snow was not something you see much of there unless you live in the mountains or way up north, neither of which was true for me. So falling snow still never fails to give me a little thrill, a feeling of being in a new and unexpected, even magical place. As I head south on Crosshill, the snowfall is rapidly growing thicker, now falling in big, fluffy flakes. As I continue down the hill, Crosshill becomes Kirkgate where the road veers to the right where it meets the path that leads to the bright white primary school, at the bottom of the slope a little off to the left. The name of the road, Kirkgate, indicates my next destination but one.

Dovecote Cottage, Chirnside, Scottish Borders

On my way to the old kirk (Scots for ‘church’), I keep watch for the structure I’m looking for, which I should find somewhere near here on my left. I spot a sign on the corner of a house: ‘Dovecote Cottage’. Ah hah! A dovecote is just the thing I’m looking for! Though the gate to the property is open, I’m loathe to enter the garden without a by-your-leave. So I walk slowly past, looking for someone I can talk to or perhaps a public path that will give me a good look into the garden. I find the gate open to a much wider drive just past Dovecote Cottage; the name on the gate, ‘White House,’ describes the large structure I pass as I enter. It appears to be a more public place than the cozy little cottage enclosure, so I don’t feel as if I’m trespassing or infringing on anyone’s privacy. Just a little ways in, I clearly see what I’m looking for off to my left over the garden wall, just where my sources said I would find it: in a garden near the church.

The dovecote built by the Humes of Ninewells, Chirnside, Scotland. It’s in the garden of Dovecote Cottage; this view is from the White House drive

The dovecote looks something like a giant hive built by a race of bees much larger and more skilled at masonry than any found on Earth. It’s had a new roof put on sometime since 1913, the date of a photograph I consulted during my research for identification. According to ‘Heritage Sites Around Chirnside,’ published by the Scottish Borders Council, it was built by a member of the Hume (again, variously spelled H-o-m-e) family in the 16th century on land won in a wager with a neighbor. This would explain why it’s at such a distance from the Ninewells grounds. A dovecote is a structure for raising doves and pigeons, a traditional and popular practice. I don’t know what the purpose was other than the enjoyment of their beauty and variety and of hearing their clucks and coos; I know people eat doves and pigeons (squab) but I believe that wasn’t then, and isn’t now, the primary purpose of pigeon-keeping.

Approaching the Old Church / Chirnside Parish Church from Kirkyard Gate, Chirnside, Scotland, with the Tweedmouth Memorial Gateway to the right

Lady Tweedmouth’s memorial tablet and grave at Chirnside Parish Church

I continue south on Kirkgate and before long, I see the old parish church on a rise to my left. The kirk is reached through a grand stone gateway: the Tweedmouth Gateway, named for Baron and Baroness Tweedmouth, erected in their honor by their son after the former’s death in 1909. Lady Tweedmouth was buried here in 1904, and in 1907, Lord Tweedmouth made extensive repairs and upgrades to the old church in her memory.

The building retains a few sections of the original Norman structure, including the south doorway under the portico (which I kick myself for neglecting to take a picture of!). The original church, a rectangular structure much smaller than what stands here today, was originally built in the 1100’s; the church was formally consecrated in 1242. It was largely rebuilt in 1572, repaired in 1705, enlarged in 1837, and repaired again and embellished during the early 1900’s.

A relation of Hume, it seems, was made parson of the church in 1573; at least, John Home shared the family name. David’s uncle George was the minister here when David was a boy. This church was the Presbyterian Church when Hume lived here and for long before. Hume’s mother Katherine was a devout Presbyterian and this was the Presbyterian church, so Hume likely attended services here regularly throughout his youth. Given his later lack of religious belief, it’s less certain that Hume would have done so as regularly when he spent summers and vacations here when he was an adult. Yet Hume was a sociable fellow and like any British village, its kirk would have been a center of social life; so, I think he would have attended sometimes at least.

Chirnside Parish Church through the front gate

Given the religiosity of Hume’s family, I wonder what they thought of his religious skepticism. Being a very affable fellow, I think it unlikely he would have made a point of it with his family. In a 1745 letter, he writes with affection of his recently deceased mother and of mutual love and concern between himself and other members of his family, with no hint of rift or strain that may have been caused by religious strife. Hume was widely reputed to be an atheist and was notorious for it, but I think his equally well-known kindness and friendliness softened the effect that it may otherwise have had on public opinion. Because of his fascination with philosophy, I suspect his mother Katherine may have viewed any skepticism she spotted in him as the result of philosophical exploration, not wickedness or pride. She recognized early her David’s lively and precocious intelligence and saw to it that he had an excellent education. As I mentioned earlier, he attended the University of Edinburgh when he was just barely eleven. He never did graduate because he grew bored there; in 1735, he wrote of that university experience ‘there is nothing to be learnt from a Professor, which is not to be met with in Books.’ So, he dropped out at age 15 and continued his studies on his own, rejecting the study of law his family expected him to pursue (after his father, who was an advocate, as a lawyer’s called here, and who died when David was only two) in favor of his beloved philosophy. From all accounts, however, the University improved greatly not long after Hume attended. His nephew, also named David Hume, attended the University as well, becoming a distinguished advocate and the University’s Professor of Scottish Law.

Chirnside Parish Church, west side

Chirnside Parish Church, east side from the kirkyard

Chirnside Parish Church and kirkyard; some details are easier to see when free of the snow cover. The Norman doorway is under the pointy-roofed portico on the right. Photo by Kavin Rae, free to use under a CC BY-SA Creative Commons license.

Chirnside Parish Church, interior from choir loft to the west

I circle the church slowly, both to see the details and to avoid slipping on the icy, snowy walkways. I try every door and tah-dah! I find a side door that was left unlocked. It opens with difficulty, appearing rarely used, the wood swelled so that it scrapes reluctantly along the ground as I slowly, carefully edge it open just enough to enter. I find myself in a very cobwebby stairwell. I ascend and find myself in a little choir loft, thick with white dust, an old fabric banner tossed over one of the pews. I step gingerly at first but the old wood floor is clearly very thick and sturdy.

The church, even with the lights out, looks festive with its red carpet, its three appliqued holiday banners hanging from the large central choir loft, and its Christmas decorations including, I’m charmed to see, a plastic baby doll in a rustic crib to represent the infant Christ. Though there’s a small pipe organ above and a piano below, I also see a boombox on a table. It’s low church, solid, practical, plain but not severe, with no imagery save a large plain cross over the raised, heavy wood pulpit.

Looking north towards Chirnside from a path just off B6437. You can see the Chirnside Parish Church rising above the trees to the right

I take a good look around and many photos but don’t stay long: not sure I’m exactly trespassing since this is a place of public worship and the door was unlocked, but since this is a gray area, I don’t overstay any welcome I may have had. I close the door tightly behind me as I leave.

I continue south on Kirkgate, which turns to B4637 after it crosses A6105, the main thoroughfare east across this part of the Borders from Berwick-upon-Tweed. I’m looking to see how much of the old Ninewells estate I can see from the east side. I continue south as far as the Chirnside Sawmill, about a third of a mile south of the church. This takes me north and east of where the old Ninewells estate was, but based on the maps I consulted earlier, the best access is from the main road to the north of here. I retrace my steps, enjoying the ever-snowier landscape and the new views of the village from each bend.

David Hume Way looking towards the Whiteadder River and the site of Ninewells

When I reach A6105, I turn left. After about a quarter of a mile, I turn right on Whiteadder Way, a road leading into a new-looking housing development. The sign tells me that I’ll access the next place I’m headed, a street named David Hume View. There’s nothing of historical interest that I know of relating to this street other than the name and the fact that you can see part of the old Ninewells estate grounds when you look south from the south end of the street. I look, but the view is blurred by the fresh snow that simultaneously beautifies it in its soft, pristine way. 

‘In all that idyllic countryside of the Merse, there is no lovelier situation than the estate of Ninewells. The house itself stands on a bluff some 80 feet above the rushing waters of the Whiteadder. Down the bluff a few yards, and to the south-east of the house, an overhanging rock forms a shallow cave. Here, David Hume probably played as a boy, or read a book in solitary majesty; and here, according to the inevitable local legend, he indulged in profound philosophical meditation.’ – Mossner’s Life of David Hume, p 20

At Ninewells House, this man directs me to the path towards the site of the old Ninewells estate and the Whiteadder River

I retrace my steps to the foot of Whiteadder Way and turn right. On the south side of A6105, just as it veers north, there’s a pretty gabled house with its name prominently displayed on its stone wall, just to the right of the gate: ‘Ninewells House.’ I know I can reach the old Ninewells grounds from this direction from my maps, but this appears to be a private drive. I have only a moment to consider my next step when a man appears. He greets me, and in response to my inquiry, he directs me to the entry of the path that runs parallel to the drive heading towards the Whiteadder River, which will then continue all the way to and along the riverbank. I thank him and find the head of the path a short distance away to the east. It’s prominently marked by a large historical placard about David Hume, though I find it nearly entirely covered with snow. I take pictures of it to refer to later; I have to do so quickly since the snow is determined to obscure it nearly as fast as I sweep it away.

Historical placard at head of path to Ninewells site and Hume Walk.

Continuing straight on the path to Ninewells site and Hume Walk

The house that stands just north of the site of Ninewells, on my left as I continue west on the path

I tromp through the accumulating snow and find that I have to step ever more carefully. I’m wearing my good sturdy leather boots but I discover that the rubber surface I had installed on the soles is not as grippy in the ice and snow as I would wish. At one point, the path leads me to the foot of the same unpaved drive that passes through the Ninewells House gate. I continue on where it veers right, then pause when I arrive at another curve to the left which enters the gate to a large, handsome, modern classic-style stone house. This house, I know from my sources, was built just north of the site of the house Hume grew up in. I also know, from my maps and the confirmation of the man at Ninewells House, that the path to the river will allow me to approach that site from below the house. So I continue past the house and onto the river path. As I walk, I join up and chat with three people also taking this walk, accompanied by their two dogs, joyful and frolicking in the snow.

Post marking the start of David Hume Walk along the Whiteadder River

The path curves along the rise then leads to a set of wooden steps that leads down to the riverside. There’s a post here that identifies the path, which turns off to the right along the river, as the David Hume Walk. The site of Ninewells should be to my left here, on the north bank of the bend of the river from west to south. My sources tell me that southeast of the house there was a shallow riverside cave and other hollows and overhangs where young David would retreat and play or think. He and his brother also loved to fish in this river. So I decide to turn right first, to explore the river where it curves down to the southwest to see if I can spot any caves, overhangs, and likely fishing spots.

I need to pick my steps ever more carefully as I go along, the path growing ever slippier, and approaching so close to the Whiteadder in some spots that I’m in real danger of sliding right in. I walk in the branchy leaf-litter to the right of the path as often as I can, where my shoes find a better grip. In some places, I hold to the naked branches of the nearby trees and shrubs. Luckily, the sets of wooden steps at the steep rises and descents are each equipped with a rough but sturdy handrail. No doubt, the steps are often rendered slippery by Scotland’s abundant precipitation.

David Hume Walk along the Whiteadder River, looking west and a little south

During this glorious, wintry riverside walk, I see pheasant, ducks, and many small birds; at one point, off to my right, I see a very large hare bounding across a field. I also hear occasional shooting, presumably for pheasant, which reminds me not to leave the paths or hop fences to explore any private field or wood. Scotland’s laws permit free passage even through private property, but I’m not entirely confident that my bright red coat can guarantee against a hunting accident.

At a high clearing overlooking the river, I reach a wooden bench. It’s a good place, I think, to enjoy the little thermos of hot coffee I obtained at the little grocery store in the village shortly after I arrived this morning. I was a little surprised to discover, from the instructions posted on the wall behind the counter, that orders of fresh milk, bread, and eggs must be placed ahead of time; they don’t stock them otherwise. Hot water and instant coffee, however, are available on demand. Though nothing fancy, the coffee is warming and bracing, and I enjoy it thoroughly.

David Hume Walk along the Whiteadder River, looking east and north towards Ninewells.

After I finish my coffee, I brush as much snow off of myself as I can and bundle more firmly into my clothing: at this point, my coat is damp in places and my boots and two pairs of wool socks have allowed some of the cold and wet to reach my feet. I turn back and retrace my steps, walking more slowly this time and looking for the rocky overhangs I may find here. I don’t find much, but there is a small one with a tree that’s grown over the top of it. Perhaps the riverbank is higher here than it used to be, filling in the bottom of it. I think I’ll return in the summer when the river is lower and the banks are more accessible and not obscured by snow. When I reach the place where the wooden steps ascend the rise to the main path, I continue north this time, toward the site of Ninewells.

Stairs to the left continue the Chirnside Path, the unmarked branch straight ahead leads northeast and thus towards Ninewells site. So, I take the branch straight ahead

Left, the south side of the house built northeast of the original Ninewells site. Right, the path I came from branching north from Chirnside & Paxton Path

Path between the Chirnside Path and Ninewells site, with part of the rotted wood walkway passing over the springs. This is the view facing southwest as I’m returning to the main Chirnside path

As I walk, I see a raised wooden walkway rotting away under moss and leaf litter. Shortly after, my boots step off frozen ground and sink into mud. A few yards along, there’s another, even wetter patch. This is just what I hoped to find! It’s confirmation that I’m in the right place: Ninewells was named for the nine springs on the estate, which bubbled up from the slope down to the river. I’ve just passed two of them. These will have to do in lieu of any historical markers I fail to find here.

I imagine the old house and the three children, John, Katherine, and David, returning from their play along the river, wet and cold, ready for mother Katherine to bundle them up with books by the fireside. My mental picture of the old house is hazy, though, since I’ve found no images that reveal just what the house looked like during Hume’s time here. There’s an old drawing of the house, made no later than 1840, that I’ve seen here and there in my resources. It’s also reproduced on the David Hume historical placard at the head of the path to the river, which you can see below. Two successive fires damaged and then largely destroyed the original house, so David’s only brother John, his senior by two years and hence the family heir, had it rebuilt, likely in a very similar style to the original.

Ninewells House prior to 1840, from David Hume historical placard near Ninewells House

The house at Ninewells changed many times over the years, sometimes restored and expanded, sometimes torn down and replaced altogether. Its last incarnation, in World War II, saw its use as a hostel for displaced people and a prisoner of war camp. Its ruins were finally torn down in January of 1964. (I also find a photo of Ninewells’ ruins from the southwest, which would be my view from the path if it were still standing, in a Historic Environment Scotland website, but I’m still waiting to receive permission to publish it here.)

Clear view of the Ninewells site and south side of the modern house built to the northwest of it, looking northwest from the Chirnside Path. That places me somewhere very near or perhaps right on the old Ninewells house site. There’s no marker I can find.

I return to the main road, A6105, just to the east of the Ninewells house. A6105 veers sharply to the north where the driveway of Ninewells House meets the road, then a quarter mile on, makes a perpendicular meeting with Chirnside’s Main Street. Turning right would take you back into the village, but I’m not headed there yet. I turn left towards the river and the bridge.

The snow is still falling and my footing on the sidewalks ever more treacherous. As I walk along, there’s a truck salting the roads, so the snow on the asphalt turns quickly to muddy, icy brine. On my way to the bridge, I’m offered a ride by a kindly elderly couple. Then a little further on, I’m liberally splashed with that salty, slushy road water by the driver of a car paying no heed to the puddles or my proximity to them. I’ve spotted the danger and step as far off the road as I can when I see a car approaching, and most drivers see it too, thoughtfully veering over to avoid spraying me. But that one speedy driver just didn’t notice or care. Oh well, I’m wearing a secondhand coat anyway. From the head of the path to Ninewells to the bridge, it’s a little over a mile.

Walking on the A6105 towards the bridge over Whiteadder River from Chirnside, Scottish Borders

The David Hume Bridge over the Whiteadder Water is a modern span. I’m not sure just when it was built since its record in Historic Environment Scotland’s website doesn’t say. Not only is this bridge significant because it passes over the beautiful, rushing Whiteadder River, but because it parallels the old Chirnside Bridge. Hume left the sum of 100 pounds and instructions for its repair in his will. The bridge likely looks very much as it did then. Just beyond the bridge is the paper mill, a handsome Italianate structure built about a hundred years after the old bridge.

Looking at the old Chirnside Bridge from the David Hume Bridge over the Whiteadder River

The old Chirnside Bridge over the Whiteadder River, near Chirnside, Scottish Borders

I turn and head back towards Chirnside, but pause to double back on the narrow little path that leads to the old bridge. I find I’m prevented from walking onto it by a high gate and warning signs to keep off, enforced via a CCTV camera. At this point, my gloves and much of my pants are soaked through and my toes are very cold, dampening any naughty urge I might have to climb over or go off path to find a way around the gate. Looking is enough for me for now. Maybe I’ll cross it if I get a chance to return this summer.

I return to Chirnside via the A6105, with another car splashing me even more liberally than the first one. I’m warmed somewhat by walking briskly up the hill, but still, I’m even wetter than I was on my way to the bridge, and my coat is looking rather disreputable. After a very chilly mile, my heart is gladdened when I see that the pub at the Red Lion Inn, just steps away from my bus stop across from the Chirnside Community Center, is open.

Russell, today’s master of Dovecote Cottage, at the Red Lion Inn pub, Chirnside

I find myself in a cozy, cheery room lined with gloriously warm radiators. The bartender nods his permission for me to strip off my coat and gloves and drape them on one of the radiators to dry. I plop on a barstool and promptly order a pint. My American accent, as it so often does here, sparks almost immediate conversation. I’m inclined to keep it for that reason.

I chat with the bartender and its one other patron as I hungrily devour my picnic lunch of cheese, oatcakes, biscuits, and a clementine I hadn’t found a good place to stop and eat earlier. It tastes that much better here in the warmth, washed down with my pint, accompanied by jolly conversation. We talk about the weather, where we’re all from originally, about how Russell, my barstool neighbor, was a geneticist, at one time doing research work at UCSF, and how he and his wife came to settle in this village upon retirement.

Once I’ve eaten, I move to the other side of the room to drape myself over the radiator along with my coat and gloves, mostly to warm my legs, chilly in my sodden jeans. The room is narrow here, placing little distance between us, and the conversation continues easily. When asked about what brings me here, I tell them, and we discuss my adventures of the day. Not long into that conversation, Russell says that there are just a few listed historical structures in Chirnside. He mentions the church and another place or two, and in answer to his expectant look, I say ‘…and the dovecote!’ I’ve evidently said the right thing since Russell’s face lights up. ‘I live at Dovecote Cottage!’ he tells me. I’m delighted to hear this, and Russell proceeds to tell me all about the pedigree of the structure and how dovecotes are used to ‘home’ pigeons.

I tell them of my visit to Ninewells, describing the location in relation to the river bend and landscape, and of finding the springs. They confirm that I was at the right place. At one point, Russell stops me. It’s ‘Nine-ulls,’ he says. Oh, I say apologetically, I often pronounce place names wrong here, I’m still learning. No, says the bartender, it’s ‘Ninewells’, just as you say, it’s named for the nine wells, and pointedly, to Russell, it has a ‘W’ in it. You English don’t say words right. We share a laugh over this. Our conversation continues, animated and a great deal of fun. It lasts for nearly an hour, until the time comes when I need, mentally as well as practically, to prepare myself to emerge into the cold and head for the bus stop.

At one point, Russell and Teddy, the bartender (I think I remember your name rightly, Teddy; if not and you’re reading this, please let me know!) mention one site I know nothing about: an old primary school which they claim David Hume attended as a child. This surprises me since it’s my understanding that young David and his siblings were taught at home by Katherine and tutors until the boys attended University. Perhaps I’m missing something? Russell and Teddy have an amusing little back-and-forth about the decision to place the plaque on the community center instead of the old primary school building, and how that decision was characteristic of a particular local official.

The building which Russell reports was the old Chirnside primary school expanded and converted into a family home

Russell volunteers to show me the old school, now a house, which they assure me is very nearby. When the clock advances enough to tell me we should leave to make that little excursion before I catch my bus, I rise. We laugh at the steam rising from my pant legs, well heated by the radiator I’ve been resting them against. My gloves at least are now well warmed and half dry, my coat now only damp in the places it had been sodden. I’m glad to see the muddy look has faded enough to be scarcely noticeable.

We walk past the last two buildings on Main Street before Dominies Loan and stop at the next building, on the northeast corner of Main and Dominies. It’s a very ordinary-looking, with pebbledash front and sides and a very steep roof. I comment that it looks very modern to me, and Russell agrees. But, he says, it’s been much altered since that time, as have many of the old buildings. In fact, the building was originally much smaller, and with all the additions and new siding, it’s unrecognizable. We walk up to where we can see the back of the house, and Russell points out the old stonework.

I’m intrigued. I don’t find this in any of the materials I found in my research for this day’s trip, and can’t confirm this tidbit of oral history in the resources I consult afterward. Perhaps I’ll find it in my research over time, or a helpful reader of my account of this day will guide me to some record of it. I do find an old Chirnside primary school as a listed historical building, but it’s at the other end of the village, the west end of Main Street. That one was built many decades after Hume’s death, and its only relation to him is that one of his two nieces, Katherine or Agnes, established it. My sources, Mossner’s Life of David Hume and the historical listing for the building in Historic Environment Scotland, don’t help me ascertain which.

The rear walls of the old house which may have been a school, revealing some of the old stonework

Mourners enjoying an after-funeral smoke and a pint at the Red Lion Inn on Chirnside’s Main Street. I take this photo as I wait for the 60 bus back to Berwick-upon-Tweed.

We look at the building, discussing the history of the town a little more. Then, I regretfully tell Russell it’s time for me to get to the bus stop. I give him my thanks and a hug and tell him I hope to see him if I make it back and to hear from him sometime, especially if the account I write of my day’s adventure here contains any mistakes or is missing some important information.

I catch my bus, after a mercifully short wait, and return to Berwick-upon-Tweed. As I descend the steps which take me to the rail station platform and waiting room, I discover a sign which contains an interesting historical tidbit about both local and Scottish national history:

Railroad station platform on the site of the Great Hall of Berwick Castle, Berwick-upon-Tweed, England

Continuing the drying-out process with the radiators in the railroad station waiting room at Berwick-upon-Tweed, England

In the waiting room, I find a comfy spot, drape my things over the radiators again, review my photos, jot down notes, and doze off a little: I was up early after a late night of research, and it’s been a somewhat taxing day. I have about an hour wait before my train arrives, but this is a nice cozy place to wait and dry off. I look forward to a hot dinner back in Edinburgh in a cozy little Sudanese restaurant near my place with some friends who are in town.

*Also published at Darrow webzine

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Sources and Inspiration:

Barton, Jim. ‘Plaque to David Hume, Chirnside‘, geograph.org.uk

Cairns, John W. ‘Hume, David (bap. 1757, d. 1838)‘, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography

Chirnside,’ Borders Family History Society website

Chirnside,‘ in Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia.

Chirnsidebridge, David Hume Bridge,Canmore: National Record of the Historic Environment, Historic Environment Scotland

Chirnside, in Scottish Borders (Scotland), citypopulationinfo.org

Chirnside, Kirkgate, The Old Church,’ Canmore: National Record of the Historic Environment, Historic Environment Scotland

Chirnside, Kirkgate, Chirnside Parish Church (Church of Scotland) including Graveyard, Mort-House, War Memorial, Boundary Walls, Gatepiers, Quadrant Walls, Memorial Gateway and Gates.‘ Historic Environment Scotland website

Chirnside, Kirkgate, Dovecot,’ Canmore: National Record of the Historic Environment, Historic Environment Scotland

Chirnside, Main Street West End, Elm Bank (Former Ninewells School and School House) including Ancillary Structure, Boundary Wall, Gatepiers and Gate.‘ Historic Environment Scotland website

David Hume,’ Melvin Bragg talks with Peter Millican, Helen Beebee, and James Harris for BBC Radio 4’s In Our Time, Oct 6, 2011

David Hume Anniversary Marked in Chirnside,’ BBC News, April 30, 2011

Heritage Sites Around Chirnside,’ Scottish Borders Council

Hillman’s Hyperlinked and Searchable Chambers’ Book of Days (original version published in 1869)

Hume, David. New Letters of David Hume. Ed. by Raymond Klibansky and Ernest C. Mossner. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1954, 2011

Jefferson-Davies, Carol. ‘World’s Scholars at Chirnside,’ The Berwickshire News, July 30, 2011, republished at the Hume Society website

Jim Clark OBE (1936 – 1968),’ Unique Cars & Parts website

Morris, William Edward and Brown, Charlotte R., ‘David Hume‘, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy

Mossner, Ernest C. The Life of David Hume. Austin, TX, 2001.

Mossner, Ernest C. ‘Hume at La Flèche, 1735: An Unpublished Letter.‘ Texas Studies in English, vol. 37, 1958, pp. 30–33. JSTOR

Ninewells House,’ Canmore: National Record of the Historic Environment, Historic Environment Scotland

Ritchie, Thomas Edward. An Account of the Life and Writings of David Hume, Esq. London: T. Cadell and W. Davies, 1807

Scott, Hew; Macdonald, Donald Farquhar. Fasti Ecclesiæ Scoticanæ; Succession of Ministers in the Church of Scotland from the Reformation. Edinburgh: Oliver & Boyd, 1915

Sutherland, Stewart. ‘David Hume and Civil Society,’ Gifford Lecture, October 25, 2011. University of Edinburgh College of Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences website

Thursfield, J.R., revised by H. C. G. Matthew. ‘Marjoribanks, Edward, second Baron Tweedmouth (1849–1909)‘, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography