stances, to produce mental derangement; and such was the melancholy destiny of Fergusson! Being involved in the riotous scenes of the election, he easily caught the baneful distemper, the effects of which were quite as much mental as
physical. While in this disordered state, he happened one day to wander into the church-yard, where he was soon after accosted by the venerable John Brown, author of many well known works in divinity, and who exercised the
humble but respectable functions of a dissenting clergyman in this town. After a few trivial remarks had passed between them, Mr Brown was led by the nature of the scene to advert to the mortality of man, observing that, in a short
time, they would soon be laid in the dust, and that therefore it was wise to prepare for eternity. To Mr Brown, the conversation seemed the most casual and unimportant that could well be. But such were not its effects. In the present state of the poet's mind, his early religious impressions were fast reviving, and, while the penalties of folly wrung his nerves, his thoughts wandered back over his mispent and unprosperous life. Upon a mind so prepared, the accidental remarks of the divine (who did not even know who he was) sunk as deep as if they had been imprinted in characters of fire. He returned home, an altered and despairing man.
One of his intimate friends, who met him in March, 1774, a short time after this event, found him somewhat tranquillized, but still in a very precarious state. The poor bard gave an account of the excesses which had lately produced such dreadful effects, and spoke with terror of what would be unavoidable in the event of a relapse—confinement in the common asylum for insane persons. He also introduced the subject of religion, and conversed with much earnestness on some of its fundamental doctrines. "Upon a particular occasion, which he specified, he said, a Mr Ferrier, at, or near St Andrews, had alarmed and rather displeased him, by maintaining, what are usually denominated the orthodox tenets of our Scottish creeds: and Fergusson appeared to differ, in a very considerable degree, from the commonly received notions on these subjects. He did not seem to be satisfied of the necessity of the fall of man, and of a mediatorial sacrifice for human iniquity; and he questioned, with considerable boldness, the consistency of such doctrines with the attributes of divine wisdom and goodness. At the same time, however, he confessed the imperfect nature of the human intellect, and the unfathomable depth of all such inquiries. This is the only gleam of infidelity which ever seems to have diminished the fearful gloom of superstitious terror: no consoling rays of genuine religion charmed his bosom; no sounds of peace gladdened his heart, and enabled him to sustain, with fortitude and calmness, the sorrows which oppressed him. He anticipated 'the last peal of the thunder of heaven,' as the voice of eternal vengeance speaking in wrath, and consigning him to irremediable perdition."[1]
After having partially recovered from his disorder, his mind is said to have received another shock from the following incident:—
"In the room adjoining to that in which he slept, was a starling, which being seized one night by a cat that had found its way down the chimney, awakened Mr Fergusson by the most alarming screams. Having learned the cause of the alarm, he began seriously to reflect how often he, an accountable and immortal being, had in the hour of intemperance, set death at defiance, though it was thus terrible, in reality, to an unaccountable and sinless creature. This brought to his recollection, the conversation of the clergyman, which, aided by the solemnity of midnight, wrought his mind up to a pitch of remorse that almost bordered on frantic despair. Sleep now forsook his eyelids ; and he rose in the morning, not as he had formerly done, to mix again with the social and the gay,
- ↑ Peterkin's Life of Fergusson, prefixed to London edition of his poems, 1807.
