SIR JAMES Y SIMP50N BY EVE blant: YRE SIMP50N FAMOUS scots: ^=:^ SERIES PUBLISHED BY ® /f '^'1 OLIPHANT ANPERSON VFCRRIERCDtMBVRGH AND LONDON <5j, ^S» b U ^V-' % PREFACE My chief difficulty, in my present effort to limn a portrait of my father that would at once be lifelike, yet as little exaggerated as possible by the unconscious hero-worship of filial affection, has lain in the con- densation of the enormous mass of material available for such a biography. What to omit has exercised me more than what to include; while the space at my disposal necessarily precluded any very lengthened dwelling upon specific periods or traits. In this con- nection, my sincere thanks are due to Mr. Oliphant Smeaton for valuable suggestions, and also for kindly revising the proofs for me. But such as the biography is, I would lovingly inscribe it to the memory of him who to me was not merely the best of fathers, but the best of men, and whose lessons of love will ever abide with me until I, * too, pass to him— behind the veil, behind the veil.' Eve Blantyre Simpson. Edinburgh, October 1896. CONTENTS CHAPTER I FAGS Parentage—Childhood—Schooldays .... 9 CHAPTER n Student Days—Start in Life . .26 CHAPTER III The Chair—An Eventful Year—Rise to Success . 36 CHAPTER IV Chloroform , , 50 CHAPTER V Appearance—Popularity—Sympathy .... 71 CHAPTER VI Squabbles—Honours 88 CHAPTER VII Holidays 97 7 S CONTENTS CHAPTER VIII PAGB Acupressure—Hospitality—Attractiveness . io6 CHAPTER IX Money Matters—Religion—Title AND Affliction . 117 CHAPTER X More Work—The Principalship—Failing . .132 CHAPTER XI Overwork Tells—His End 147 SIR JAMES YOUNG SIMPSON CHAPTER I PARENTAGE—CHILDHOOD—SCHOOL DAYS. * It is life near the bone where it is sweetest.'—Thoreau. * is A MODERN writer says : There to me an inexpressible charm in the lives of the good, brave, learned men whose only objects have been, and are, to alleviate pain and save life'; and as to what constitutes a perfect medical man, a philosopher wrote lately in his journal * at Geneva : A good doctor should be at once a genius, a saint, and a man of God.' To attain this latter high standard of excellence is a task accomplished by few who, newly graduated, are yearly despatched as * of Argonauts across the rough sea of life, not in search a shadowy golden fleece, but with a far higher and holier commission; viz. to carry hence the rich and blessed gifts of medicine to all ends of the habitable . to globe. Menecrates wrote true and terse King " : is to kill it is Philip of Macedon It your work men ; ' ^ ray work to save them." Last century raised up in * Jenner a mighty medical warrior, a man whose lancet saved far more lives than the sword of Napoleon de- 1 From Physicians and Physict by Sir J, Y. Simpson. 9 lo FAMOUS SCOTS stroyed.* The medical recruits have a hard but noble career, and noble examples to follow. Wherever there are pain and sickness they find their life's work. Many of them fall battling with the foes of mankind. Some make a big stride onward in their incessant war with * death, by finding further means to stop his flying dart,' and so gain a niche in the Temple of Fame. This history is of a 'Famous Scot' who wrought hard to add to the armoury of the disciples of ^sculapius, who never spared himself in his keen to to of pursuit avert disease, mitigate pain ; one whom his American medical brethren said, at a meeting held * at his death at Washington : Prophet, philosopher, worker, and saint, they were gathered together in James Young Simpson.' This man, who, while seeking to relieve his fellow- men, made for himself a world-wide reputation, was born, 7th June 1811, at Bathgate, Linlithgowshire. His father, David Simpson, was the village baker, so the future physician had to climb up the ladder of fame from a lowly rung. His forebears were of sturdy labouring farmer stock. From them can be traced the source from whence their descendant drew his tastes through the variable trail of heredity. James's grandfather, Alexander Simpson of Slackend, near Torphichen, along with his farming practised farriery, and in the district was much sought after for his skill in the cure of beasts; and this art of healing, which ran in his family, descended in full force on his grandchild. A letter from this sagacious husbandman, dated 1783, still remains in our possession. It is addressed to his sons, * and abruptly begins, Davied and Gorge.' These lads SIR JAMES Y. SIMPSON ii * had journeyed off to London on foot to see the world,' for in their young blood ran the desire for a wider view of things than could be got from a small Lowland farm. Their father was anxious about them. *This coms to let you both know that we are all in some mesure of helth at present, blessed be He who gives it. Your mother has had a long sore troubel, but she is a deall better. Your letters befor was like a cure to her, but your last made her to trembel.' The reason of the mother's fears was the pressgang, which had nearly captured her boys, and neither she nor her husband had any wish for them to serve their country as its defenders. Alexander Simpson had moss-trooper blood in him, for when it was no longer a respectable trade, some pro- genitor of his, struck by the fatness of the lands of Linlithgowshire, turned his sword into a ploughshare, and settled at Torphichen. The peacefulness of agricultural life had cooled the blood in their veins. The old farmer was no warrior, but he was not lacking in courage. One thing he feared was mad dogs, and to defend himself from one he heard breathing one night in his room, he drew an old sword which hung above his bed. The mad dog on this occasion, on which his wife threw the light of a candle, proved to be a calf that had strayed from the byre, which adjoined the house, and was staggering at the feet of its terrified owner. He preferred that his sons should walk in * paths of peace, not be soldiers by land or by sea,' as he puts it. He filled the long pages of this letter with much good advice. They had gone forth from their home eager to earn money, but he writes to them: * Would you desire great riches? It sometimes, when 12 FAMOUS SCOTS got, takes the wings of the morning and flies away. There are some in our place I have seen great and now verey low; so if you have a small incom and well managed and contentment therewith, you will be as hapey as they that have more/ He ends this long epistle by begging them to keep him informed of their prospects, for their mother *will be restles till you write. Your letters are not dear, but lod., so do not I will spare them ; gladly pay your fares from whatever port you come, for if your places be not answering to what you expected, come back to us. No more at present, but I rest your affectionet father till death— Alexander Simson.' Alexander Simpson and his wife were an upright, industrious couple, who reared their children well, and along with their daily bread gave them a full share of religious training and the Shorter Catechism. They were people who lived the life Burns so vividly de- * scribed in the Cotter's Saturday Night.' The elder son remained at home and learned to walk * * at the tail the plough's and work farm ; the younger ones struck out for themselves in whatever line they saw an opening. David Simpson, James's father, being a junior in the family, settled as a distiller at Glenmavis, close to Bathgate. He prospered there in partnership with his brother Thomas, who finally moved to another distillery near Kirkliston. The new excise law, the refusal of the laird of Balbardie, at whose gates Glen- mavis lies, to enlarge the premises, followed by the Peninsular war, and the consequent dearness of corn, stopped the distillery. David Simpson next tried brewing, but that did not pay, so he turned his attention SIR JAMES Y. SIMPSON 13 to the manufacture of sugar of lead instead of beer. But something went wrong with the compound, and he lost heavily. Having learned baking in his younger days, when he had wandered to London to see the world, he turned to this trade, glad to have some pursuit wherewith to support his wife and some six children that had been born at Glenmavis. He left the distillery and started anew in Main Street, Bathgate. The Bathgate of these days was very different from what it is now. The click of the weaver's shuttle echoed through its quaint, steep streets, where its inhabi- tants had gathered closely together for protection in the times when Simsons came a-reiving in Simon Eraser's train up from the Tweed. The Bathgate of to-day has given up roofing with thatch and warm-coloured tiles, and has spread itself out over the flat ground in villas and gardens and rows of miners' houses. The railway is now the highroad and centre of traffic. Main Street, up which the coaches used to pass on their journeys between Edinburgh and Glasgow, is left out of fashion and is fall- ing into disrepair. It remains much the same as it was early in this century, full of quaint houses, mostly gabled and crow-stepped, and with outside stairs.