Authors: Raymond Lamont-Brown
A visit to Wroxton Abbey brought them to Edgehill in Warwickshire, where King Charles I’s Royalist Army was defeated by the Parliamentarians led by Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, on 23 October 1642. As he mounted the elevation above the battlefield, Carnegie’s republican heart swelled with pride at Charles’s rout.
Warwick and Leamington gave way to the old market town of Stratford-upon-Avon, where the party stayed at the Red Horse Inn. A visit to Shakespeare’s birthplace on Henley Street and his grave in the parish church by the Avon was a must, with Carnegie reflecting on his first encounters with Shakespeare’s genius as he stood ‘beside the ashes’ of the great man.
By 24 June they were at a rain-soaked Coventry, to walk in the footsteps of Mary Ann Evans, who won fame as the writer George Eliot and lived here from 1841 to 1849. They were now entering the heartlands of the industrial Midlands, dubbed the ‘Black Country’ – a name derived from the concentration of mines and factories stretching approximately from Castle Bromwich in the east to Wolverhampton in the north-west. After his jottings on daffodils, pretty dells, streams and thatched farms, Carnegie now recorded the industrial scene:
We see the Black Country now, rows of little dingy houses beyond, with tall smoky chimneys vomiting smoke, mills and blast furnaces . . . and such dirty, careworn children, hard-driven men, and squalid women. . . . How can people be got to live such terrible lives as they seem condemned to here? Why do they not all run away to the green fields beyond. . . . But do not let us forget that it is just Pittsburgh over again.
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This was a somewhat hypocritical comment since Carnegie’s own workers toiled in similar slum conditions.
Then they went on to Birmingham, where a free concert of organ music at the Public Hall raised their spirits ahead of a six-day stay at Wolverhampton – described as ‘one vast iron-working, coal-mining establishment’.
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A garden party at the Mayor’s, a tour of the free library, theatricals at Clifton House and assorted junketings set them in a good mood to travel to the cathedral city of Lichfield on 1 July. A stopover at The Swan and a feast of medieval architecture saw them off to Dovedale in Derbyshire, where Izaac Walton had fished the River Dove, his enthusiasm eventually producing his
The Compleat Angler
(1653). Carnegie wrote down his own thoughts on fishing. Thence by way of several aristocratic homes they went to Chatsworth and the Edensor Hotel, and admired the model village erected by the Duke of Devonshire. Refreshed by the country air at Buxton spa they prepared for the bustle of Manchester and the formality of the Queen’s Hotel; they made a rapid review of the ‘principal streets’ of the city. Chorley (Anderton Hall) and Preston (The Victoria) gave way to two days at Lancaster and the County Hotel. Here they joined the crowds to cheer along the procession of the newly elected High Sheriff of Lancashire. Next they travelled through the Lake District via Kendal (The Kings Arms), Grasmere (The Prince of Wales), Keswick (The Keswick) and Penrith (The Crown), and along the way Carnegie was interested to see the number of American flags on display at various hotels. Highlights of the visit were rowing on the lakes and a visit to William Wordsworth’s grave at Grasmere, although Carnegie dismissed the Lakeland Poets as inferior to ‘our own’ Walter Scott. By 15 July they were at Carlisle (the County and Station Hotel) and Carnegie and his mother were eager to take the next step: ‘Do any people love their country as passionately as the Scotch?,’ asked Carnegie. ‘Tomorrow we are to enter that land of lands.’
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That Saturday, 16 July 1881, when they crossed the border into Scotland, Carnegie was in lyrical mood and quoted Lord Byron’s lines from ‘Hours of Idleness’ (1807):
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses
In you let the minions of luxury rove;
Restore me the rocks where the snowflake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,
Round their white summits though elements war;
Though cataracts foam ’stead of smooth flowing fountains,
I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.
Carnegie’s gushing sentiment for Scotland was poured into his twopenny jotters: ‘It’s a God’s mercy I was born a Scotchman, for I do not see how I could ever have been contented to be anything else.’
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A small boy was rewarded with a shilling (5p) for guiding them round the romantic blacksmith’s shop at Gretna Green, where couples still flocked to the site for ‘irregular marriages’; at nearby Gretna Hall Richard Brinsley Sheridan had married Maria Grant in 1835 . . . twice! After lunch at Annan the party rested for two days at Dumfries (The Commercial), with Carnegie seeking out relics of the burgh’s worthies and making a pilgrimage to the grave of Robert Burns at St Michael’s churchyard.
The road to Sanquhar and the Queensberry Hotel led them to Drumlanrig Castle, the seat of the Dukes of Buccleuch on the River Nith. Carnegie was overcome once more and declaimed more from ‘Hours of Idleness’:
England! thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roamed on the mountains afar.
Oh, for the crags that are wild and majestic!
The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr.
At Old Cumnock (The Dumfries Arms) the party and their coach were immortalised by the local photographer, and then they moved on to Douglas (The Douglas Arms), Lanarkshire. Here Carnegie explored the tombs of the Douglas family at the Church of St Bridge, pausing at the vault of his hero Robert I’s friend the loyal Sir James of Douglas, killed in battle with the Moors in Spain on his way to the Holy Land with the heart of Bruce in a reliquary in accordance with the dead king’s wishes. Epitaphs became the main topic of conversation with the party and Carnegie jotted down a classical Scottish example:
Here lies David Elginbrod,
Ha’e mercy on his soul, O God!
As he’d a-had, had he been God
And ye’d been David Elginbrod.
In hilarious mood they made for Edinburgh on 20 July, to stay in the capital for six days. From their base at The Royal Hotel in Princes Street the party split up to explore Edinburgh in pursuit of their separate interests. Carnegie went down to Leith to witness the official opening of the new Edinburgh Dock. He was eager to cross the Forth to Dunfermline, but then received a telegram from Dunfermline’s town clerk Mr Simpson asking him to delay his visit by one day, as arrangements for his reception were not quite ready. His anticipation rising by the hour, Carnegie spent the evening with Queen Victoria’s limner (painter) in Scotland, Sir Joseph Noel Paton, described by Carnegie as ‘Dunfermline’s most distinguished son’.
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Carnegie was beside himself with joy as the ferry took them to North Queensferry and Fife, and he searched his memory for a quote from Sir Walter Scott’s ‘Marmion’ (1808) to celebrate the voyage:
But northward far, with purer blaze,
On Ochil mountains fell the rays,
And as each heathy top they kissed,
It gleamed a purple amethyst.
Yonder the shores of Fife you saw,
Here Preston Bay, and Berwick Law;
And broad between them rolled,
The gallant Firth the eye might note,
Whose islands on its bosom float,
Like emeralds chased in gold.
They were met at the shore by Uncle George Lauder and assorted relations. As rainclouds threatened their planned picnic at ruined Rosyth Castle they went instead to a Rosyth inn to be greeted by a flustered landlady. Carnegie lapped up her Fife accent: ‘I’m a’ alane! There’s naebody in the house! They’re a’ awa’ to Dunfermline! There’ll be great goings on there the day.’ Lunch was partaken without the landlady guessing that her guest was the cause of the ‘great goings on’ at Dunfermline.
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With his emotions barely under control Carnegie sat on the outside top of the coach as it breasted the top of the Ferry Hills and Dunfermline came into view: ‘What Benares is to the Hindoo [
sic
], Mecca to the Mohammedan, Jerusalem to the Christian, all that Dunfermline is to me!’
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In mid-afternoon the coach rolled up St Leonard’s Street and at the top of Bothwell Street encountered the huge civic and civil party assembled to welcome Carnegie amid bunting, brass bands, pipers and banners announcing ‘Welcome Carnegie, Generous Son’. A mile-long procession formed up behind the Provost, councillors and magistrates, and Carnegie was led up Netherton and into steep Moodie Street, halting at the cottage where he had been born. Inside the carriage Margaret Carnegie wept with pride.
An important part of the visit was the laying of the foundation stone of Dunfermline Free Library (now the Central Library) in Abbey Street by Margaret Carnegie, who was given this honour at the request of her son. Her tears suppressed, her neat black silk dress making her stand out proudly, Margaret Carnegie ‘spread the mortar with a silver trowel, gave the [stone] three mystic taps and announced in a firm voice that carried to the edge of the throng: “I pronounce this memorial stone duly laid, and may God bless the undertaking”.’
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Completed on 27 July 1881 to the design of James Campbell Walker this was Carnegie’s first major library gift; extensions were added to it during 1914–21. While formulating his architectural plans Walker had asked Carnegie for his coat of arms to display on the building; Carnegie had none, but suggested that a rising sun shedding its rays should be placed above the entrance; the motto would be taken from Genesis 1:3 – ‘Let there be Light’.
Provost Walls accompanied Carnegie on a tour of the adjacent abbey grounds with a top hat salute to the American flag flying on the Abbey Tower. As the abbey bell pealed in his honour – stirring memories of the curfew bell of his childhood – Carnegie broke down in tears. On their special half-day holiday for the event the cheering Dunfermline townsfolk pursued Carnegie wherever he went and the
Dunfermline & West Fife Journal
declared: ‘The demonstration may be said to be unparalleled in the history of Dunfermline.’
A celebration dinner followed the stone-laying with Provost Wall offering fulsome praise to the guest of honour. Curiously he included some rather impertinent remarks in his speech:
The only flaw in Mr Carnegie’s character is that he wants a wife. I attribute that very much to the fact of his having a mother. His mother has taken good care of him, and has showed that she does not want to hand him over to the tender mercies of some half-cousin, or any of the half-dozen young ladies who are with him today.
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John Johnston was there that day and remembered that Margaret Carnegie sat stony-faced at the Provost’s remarks while Carnegie himself showed some discomfort. Those in the know saw how Margaret Carnegie stuck to her son, who even composed a squib about the situation which he gave public airing in his book on the tour:
The good book tells of one
Who sticks closer than a brother;
But who will dare to say there’s one
Sticks closer than a mother.
On Friday 27 July the party moved on to Kinross, where Margaret Carnegie had to rest, drained by the emotions of the Dunfermline celebrations. The others viewed the castle set in Loch Leven, from where Mary, Queen of Scots made her famous escape in 1568. Then they moved on to Perth (the Royal George), where on 29 July Carnegie was busy reflecting on the city as the ancient capital of Scotland, and then to Scone, where the coronations of Scottish kings had taken place, while the journey northward next day to Dunkeld had Carnegie comparing the views with Sir John Everett Millais’s paintings of the area and poet Thomas Gray’s descriptions of the place. A walk in the ruins of Dunkeld Cathedral completed the party’s enjoyment of the atmosphere. A relief coachman entertained them with local stories as they passed through the hills around Birnam and Dunsinane – made famous in Shakespeare’s
Macbeth
. As they passed through the large estate lands owned by the Duke of Atholl Carnegie’s republicanism surfaced: ‘Why do not people just meet and resolve that they will no longer have kings, princes, dukes or lords, and declare that all men are born equal, as we have done in America?’
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Carnegie declared Pitlochry (Fisher’s Hotel) ‘a great resort’, from where quick visits were made to the famous Pass of Killiecrankie and to the Bruar Water and Falls of Tummel. Poems by Burns and Scott were recited to complement the views as they travelled deep into the Highlands, through Dalwhinnie and Boat of Garten, until at last, on Saturday 3 August 1881, they reached their destination, Inverness. They rested at the Caledonian Hotel. It had taken them seven weeks to travel 831 miles, and they had had, at various times, some thirty-two travelling companions.
The party stayed at Inverness until 5 August, exploring the Highland capital and savouring the Highland air. By canal and boat they made their way to Oban, thence Glasgow, where the party split up to go their various ways. At the Broomielaw Carnegie became nostalgic as he remembered: ‘whither father and mother and Tom and I sailed thirty-odd years ago’.
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While Margaret Carnegie spent some time at Paisley, Carnegie and Harry Phipps left St Enoch’s station by train to visit E. Winston Richards, plant manager of the steel mill at Eston, the largest of its type in the world, stopping off en route at the cathedrals of Durham and York to enjoy the organ music.
On 13 August they sailed from Liverpool aboard the
Algeria
, arriving at New York on Wednesday 24 August. The euphoria of the trip having left him, Carnegie spent ‘two or three of the most miserable hours’ of his life at the St Nicholas Hotel before setting out for Cresson. He was depressed that the party had broken up; he missed the company and felt alone, his mother chiding him for not being content with her company.
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In the end though, Carnegie looked upon his trip as ‘a sacred possession for ever’.
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The twopenny jotters were reformed into a book on the tour that appeared as
An American Four-in-Hand in Britain
under Charles Scribner’s Sons’ imprint in 1883; a first edition of 200 copies sold rapidly and the volume eventually ran to some 18 editions and total sales of some 15,000 copies.
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