James Geikie, the Man and the Geologist. Marion I. Newbigin
the statements made above as to the effect on the children’s imagination of Captain Thom’s yarns. When very small James, in company with his brother William, who was two years older, set off to walk down to Joppa, some three and a half miles from Edinburgh, to see the world, and incidentally to visit an aunt who lived in the district. The two arrived very tired, only, after a meal and a rest, to be ignominiously taken home again by their aunt. In those days communications between the shore and the city were difficult, and the party had to trudge back on foot, the small James, whose ambition on this occasion had somewhat outrun his strength, having to be carried most of the way.
But this inglorious finale did not quench the ardour of the youthful pair, who were probably slow to grasp the attitude of grown-up people towards displays of initiative on the part of the young. Next time they planned to make a voyage on their own account, and to place the water between them and over-zealous family affection. They were so far successful as to reach Leith and find their way on board a ship. But alas! even here they were met by a display of the adult passion for interference, and were taken home by a sailor who, regardless of the soul within, maintained that their diminutive stature debarred them from seeking life and adventure on the high seas. As one of the grandfather’s most popular stories related how he had sunk a pirate boat in the Bay of Naples, by means of a small gun loaded with scrap iron, and how in consequence he had been fêted by the Neapolitans, and had had his portrait painted, one can imagine that the brothers were very bitter at this second check to their own ambitions. James had to wait many years before he faced Italian pirates and brigands, and then it was the milder variety which requires to be treated with another metal rather than iron, and cannot be disposed of by Captain Thom’s summary methods.
Another story of childhood is interesting because it shows how completely the boy was the father of the man. At some unknown but early date he had a serious illness. So desperate seemed his condition that the doctor, speaking in the presence of the apparently unconscious boy, permitted himself to tell the mother that recovery was practically impossible, and was not to be desired, as the child would be feeble-minded. After the doctor had left, the poor mother came back into the room crying, but little Jamie found strength to whisper feebly: “I’ll no dee yet, mother.”
Long years afterwards, in a bad illness some four or five years before his death, somewhat similar incidents happened. One day after he had seen the doctor exchange a grave glance with the nurse, he managed, after the doctor had left the room, to say: “Tell him I have a return ticket.” On another occasion one sick-room attendant volunteered to another the statement that she did not think the professor would last till the morning, and was considerably startled to hear the apparently dying man, who was lying with his eyes closed, say distinctly, if feebly, “The professor will last till the morning, and he’ll last till he sees you out of the house.” Needless to say he did more than this, for he lived to tell the tale with his old glee and vivacity. Perhaps the medical science of a later date will be able to find an explanation of this power of resistance, and of its association with the nervous temperament rather than with strong physique. Meantime it is interesting to have another confirmation of the frequent experience that in a death-struggle, whether with internal or external foes, the “muscular Christian” can often give a less good account of himself than the nervous one. The boy, who if he lived was to be feeble-minded, not only lived but added notably to the world’s stock of knowledge.
Only one early letter has been preserved, and it gives no clue as to its date, beyond the fact that it is printed in childish capitals, which are, however, wonderfully straight, and shows an uncharacteristic uncertainty as to spelling. It reads:—
Dear Father and Mother—We are very much disappointed, at youre not leaving London on Saturday. We hopet to have the pleasure of seeing you pull down the pears for us but since you have not come, we will have to bigin ourselves and take them down. We are all in good health we wer all up at the castle with Thom to day and saw Mons Meg. Write us soon and let us know when yoo ar really to leave.—Your affectionate son,
James M. Geikie.
James Geikie’s early education was obtained at a private school, where he seems to have been unhappy. The master was brutal in his methods, and ill-suited to have charge of a delicate, nervous boy. The climax came when one day he approached James from behind, and seized his ear roughly between his finger and thumb, giving it a painful wrench. The boy, maddened with pain and fright, sprang up, and seizing the nearest object, which happened to be an inkpot, flung it at his assailant. He then made for the door, his exit closing one educational chapter. Afterwards, in 1850, when he was eleven years of age, he went to Edinburgh High School, then under the rectorship of Dr. Schmitz. Here James Geikie seems to have distinguished himself chiefly in classics. The classical master was Dr. Boyd, who evidently perceived his abilities, for he told him that he expected to hear of him in later years either as a poet or as a literary man.
Under Dr. Boyd James Geikie gained a prize for a translation from Virgil into English verse, and his knack of verse-making seems to have been carefully fostered. A number of his verse translations have been preserved, some written out in his brother William’s extraordinarily neat hand, others printed by James himself at a later date.
On the whole, however, it would seem as though the education of the boys was carried out more outside school than in it. In those days Scottish schools were unaffected by English traditions in the matter of sport. There were no organised games, and the boys obtained exercise in whatever way pleased them best. The Geikie children kept many pets in their garden, and James’s considerable manual dexterity was often called upon in connection with the welfare of these. A family tradition led the children to give those of their pets who died before their time an elaborate funeral, and James’s skill in coffin-making is still lauded by the remaining members of his family.
Of more importance for his future career were the long excursions by which the boys as they grew satisfied their Wanderlust. Edinburgh is, of course, even to-day singularly favoured by Nature in the number and variety of the possible excursions within easy reach of the town, and in those days conditions were still better. In later years, when he took his geological students over Arthur’s Seat, James Geikie used often to lament what he regarded as the spoiling of that park by the construction of roads, which for him took away the feeling of wildness, and part of the impressiveness of the wonderful volcanic scenery. He did not live to see a further stage in which the citizens were shut off by the exigencies of war from the enjoyment of the most attractive part of the park.
A little anecdote that he often also told on his excursions is not without interest. As a boy he was lying on the hill one day reading a book when he was accosted by a party consisting of a tall gentleman, a little lady, and a group of children. The gentleman asked the way to the top of the hill, and James not only volunteered to guide them, but ultimately carried the smallest girl pickaback up part of the climb. The party had a pleasant stroll, and parted the best of friends. As the boy came down the slopes towards Holyrood, however, he found a considerable crowd waiting, and learnt that his help had been asked by the Prince Consort, that the lady was Queen Victoria, and the little girl he had carried the Princess Alice.
One motive for the long holiday rambles seems to have been butterfly-collecting, if one may judge from the enthusiasm with which in later years, when himself the father of growing boys, he entered into the pursuit for their sakes. Some of his letters written to his sons during his travels on the Continent and in America are thoroughly boy-like in their enthusiasm for the beautiful creatures, and in their descriptions of the efforts necessary to obtain perfect specimens. But like many an Edinburgh boy before and since, he was keenly interested in fossils and in the rocks and minerals represented in the neighbourhood of his native town. Fossil-hunting expeditions to the famous limestone quarries of Burdiehouse and Gilmerton, and to the coprolitic shales down on the shore at Wardie, were often undertaken in company with two future colleagues on the Geological Survey—his eldest brother Archibald, later Director of the Geological Survey, and now Sir Archibald Geikie, and the boy who afterwards became Prof. John Young of Glasgow. James was considerably younger than either, and, as he himself indicates in a Memoir prefixed to Dr. Young’s Essays and Addresses (1904), was only allowed to accompany his seniors occasionally and as a special favour. Indeed, throughout all this early period it seems clear that “Jamie” was only a little