CHAPTER I.

_PARENTAGE AND BOYHOOD._

Alexander Balfour was born at Leven-Bank, Leven, Fifeshire, on the 2nd of September 1824. He was the eldest of three sons, of whom only one survives. His father was Henry Balfour and his mother Agnes Bisset. Henry Balfour was the owner of a foundry in Leven, which is still carried on. Leven-Bank is a pleasantly situated residence near the foundry, and not distant from the shore of Largo Bay.

A venerable relation in her eighty-ninth year, who has spent her long life in the quaint Fifeshire town of Leven, is the repository of many family traditions, some of which may fitly find a place in these pages.

A few years before his death, Alexander Balfour gathered together some statistics about the ancestry of his family. These he recorded on the fly-leaf of his own Bible, and of another which he presented to one of his kindred. On two of the worthies in his ancestral roll, he used to dwell with peculiar pleasure.

James Wilson of Caskardy, a relation of the house, went to America and took part with George Washington and Franklin in laying the foundations of the American Republic. His portrait is in the great picture in the Capitol of Washington, as one of the worthies who signed the Deed of American Independence on the 4th of July 1776.

When in the United States, a few years ago, Mr. Balfour was presented by an American citizen with a copy--said to be one of the hundred original copies--of the Declaration of Independence. On his return he had it hung up in the office of his firm, and he pointed out to his friends, with enthusiasm, the signature of his kinsman, James Wilson. He believed the original Declaration to have been written by the hand of James Wilson; and certainly there is a marked similarity between his signature and the body of the document.

One of the most cherished incidents in the family record is the following:--When John Balfour of Brokley, in the olden time, lay on his death-bed, his cousin, James Balfour of Dron, came to see him. “Shall I offer prayer with you?” he inquired. “Not prayer but praise,” was the answer of the dying man. On this James began to sing from the time-honoured version of the 145th Psalm as sung in Scotland:--

“O Lord, Thou art my God and King; Thee will I magnify and praise; I will Thee bless and gladly sing Unto Thy holy name always. Each day I rise I will Thee bless, And praise Thy name time without end. Much to be praised and great God is; His greatness none can comprehend. Good unto all men is the Lord, O’er all His works His mercy is. Thy works all praise to Thee afford; Thy saints, O Lord, Thy name shall bless.”

Before James Balfour had finished singing, his cousin had passed into glory. These were bright thoughts to fill the heart of a dying saint. When Alexander’s own summons came, it was much in the bright trustful spirit of his venerable ancestor that he passed away. One of his cousins tells us that he read to her the ancestral roll, containing the brief record given above, and then exclaimed, “I should rather have the blood of men like these flowing in my veins than the blood of kings.”

What subtle influence may have descended upon him from his remote ancestors, who shall say? There cannot, however, be any doubt that some of his marked characteristics came to him from his parents. His father was a man of great hospitality and readiness to give. His mother’s heart was full of generous impulse, and her life abounded in deeds of kindness regulated by discrimination. She feared to injure when her aim was to bless. The same quality was conspicuous in the overflowing beneficence of her son. Those who knew him best know how eager he was to help such as helped themselves, and how resolute he could be in withholding assistance from those who were likely to squander or make a bad use of it. Of course, like others, he was sometimes deceived and disappointed in those he sought to aid.

A contemporary and playmate recalls a characteristic incident of his childish years. The two children were walking together along the road, having each got a penny to spend on sweetmeats. Meeting a poor old man, Alexander slipped the penny into his hand. To the inquiry why he had done this, the boy gravely replied, “Don’t you remember, ‘He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth to the Lord.’” Already this great principle, which exercised so powerful an influence over his life, was beginning to take root in his young heart. He did not on this occasion quote the remainder of the text, but his after experience proved it true, “and that which he hath given will He pay him again.”

It is still remembered by the same companion that when Alexander and he were sent with some delicacies to a patriarchal old Christian, he, looking at the boy’s loving face, said, “That is a child of grace from the womb.”

He was very tender-hearted, and from early childhood his emotions were easily excited by hearing of any act of self-sacrificing devotion. When he was a very small boy, his mother was one evening entertaining company at dinner; and his nurse being required to help in waiting at table, Alexander was allowed to remain in the dining-room on a high chair in a recess, with a little table before him, on which was placed the family-Bible, which he had chosen to amuse himself with. No attention had been paid to him, and he had kept quiet for some time, when the party was startled by a sudden outburst of sobs from his corner. On inquiry being made, when he was able to explain, it was found that he had been reading the history of Abraham, and when he came to the story of his taking his son Isaac to the mount to offer him as a sacrifice, his feelings could not be restrained. In after life he was always much affected in reading this instance of Abraham’s obedience and confidence in God.

The only years spent by Alexander under his father’s roof were those of his childhood, and, like other children of his age on the coast of Fifeshire, he enjoyed a large measure of unrestricted liberty. This “wholesome neglect,” while it fostered the resourceful and independent spirit which has distinguished many sons of the “Kingdom of Fife,” in a larger world, was not without its dangers. On one occasion, when only six years of age, Alexander was amusing himself, along with a companion of equal years and experience, in a small boat moored to the shore. The boat in some way got loose, and the boys had drifted a mile or two out to sea before the position of matters attracted attention. The drifting boat was speedily captured, and the child-mariners were rescued from perils of which they were scarcely conscious.

In his early boyhood Alexander attended the parish school of Leven, which was at that time under the care of the Rev. Thomas Cutler, a “licentiate” of the Church of Scotland. While a good teacher, Mr. Cutler fully shared his pupils’ love of recreation, which had its part in developing manliness of character as well as soundness of health. The prospect of a “foursome” of golf on the breezy links of Leven, which form the fringe of Largo Bay, had irresistible attractions for Mr. Cutler. The quaint old school-house still stands, though no longer devoted to its original purpose. In front of it lies a strip of sand and bent-grass, a portion of the Links, while beyond stretches the noble estuary of the Forth, with the bold Bass Rock of historic memory, and the picturesque “Law” of North Berwick, on the opposite shore. From the three windows of the school-house all this was visible to teacher and scholars. The memory still lingers with some of the old pupils, of certain occasions on which, when a passenger boat from Edinburgh came in view before the hour of closing, and showed symptoms of golf-clubs and golfers, the claims of arithmetic and “the rudiments” were overpowered, and the eager teacher would say, “Well, boys, you may shut your books, there will be no more schooling to-day.” The word of command did not need to be spoken twice, and perhaps the bracing breezes and the free exercise of the links gave no indifferent compensation for what was lost by the curtailment of lessons. At least so it was in the estimation of the scholars.

Alexander delighted in open-air exercise of all kinds. He was devotedly fond of his little shaggy Highland pony, and much of his spare time was spent in roaming about the country on its back. His love for riding continued with him throughout his life. And in all this we see one ground of his earnest efforts, in later years, to furnish our city youths with such healthful exercise as lay within their reach.

It is not without interest to recall that young Alexander paid many a visit to Kilmany, the parish, somewhat before that time, of Dr. Chalmers. He had an uncle there, who was an elder in Kilmany church.

While still a boy he was sent to Dundee, where he enjoyed the advantage of a superior school. In Dundee he had the benefit of living with his grandfather, whose name-son he was, and whom he greatly resembled both physically and mentally. The “old Provost,” as he is still familiarly called in the town, was a notable man at that period. He was a prosperous merchant with large business connections, and was very fond of his grandson. The following brief inscription on a stone in the “Howff” churchyard, in the centre of the town, marks the old man’s resting place: “Alexander Balfour of Airlie Lodge, born at Kilmany, Fifeshire, 30th November 1765, died at Dundee 8th November 1855, aged 89 years.”

Under his roof, in the pleasant mansion bearing the name of Airlie Lodge, which stood at a very short distance from the estuary of the Tay, and which was a Dower House of the Airlie family, Alexander found his home for some years. Airlie Lodge is now replaced by modern houses, and few of those who were dwellers in Dundee at the time of which we speak, survive to tell what they knew of the old Provost’s grandson.

Those who remain speak of the boy in the warmest terms. One of them referring to his ardent temperament says, “Balfour’s youthful character--a character somewhat impetuous--foreshadowed the noble life he lived when he had come under the inspiration of a great love to God and man.” He was naturally eager and hasty, but this temper was not overcome so much as regulated and utilised, so that when prosecuting any good work, an impulse and energy were thrown into it which are given to few men. He was characterised in early life by great strength of will. This, too, was not conquered but controlled. Without this quality, it would have been wholly impossible for him to have accomplished the work which in later life he carried out. Not unfrequently, in training what are called self-willed children, the mistake is made of endeavouring to “break their will.” The truth is, that no life can be powerful and efficient among men without the presence of strong will. Happily in the educational and practical training of his early years, Alexander’s will was not broken, but early yoked to noble purpose, and thus made available for great achievements.

While quick in temper as a youth, he seemed incapable of cherishing animosity against any one. His lovable, generous character made many friends and no enemies.

A faithful servant of old Provost Balfour still survives. It is touching to hear her speak of Alexander. He seems to be the brightest figure in the memories of a long life; and she wearies not in speaking of the golden-haired boy of Airlie Lodge. He was a “most lovable boy,” says Elizabeth; “I would have done anything for him.” Her testimony agrees with that of others who remember his childhood, when she says, “I never heard Master Alec say a word that he might not have said before all the ministers of Dundee.” Elizabeth’s brother had gone to Cincinnati, where he became a prosperous man. In after years she was invited to go out to join him. The advice received from friends was conflicting, and she felt greatly at a loss. In the circumstances she said, “I will just write to Mr. Alec, and whatever he advises me I will do.” His advice was that she should go to her brother. He invited her to go to see him at Mount Alyn, at that time his home, on her way to America. She did so, and she reports: “He loaded me with kindness, and said, ‘Now, Elizabeth, if you find it does not suit you to stay in the States, just come back and live beside me at Mount Alyn, and I will see that you have all you need.’” She did return to this country after a time, but her brother had made all needful provision for her, and she dwells among her own people in Dundee.

Airlie Lodge was on the whole a happy home for Alexander. The old Provost was greatly attached to him. It is curious to hear from contemporaries that Alexander’s way of unconsciously but most effectively using his delicate tapering fingers, in any demonstration or argument in which he was engaged, was almost exactly his grandfather’s method. The old Provost’s wife was not Alexander’s own grandmother. She was in fact the third wife. She seems to have been a lady of quick temper, and to have kept the youthful inmate of her house under the bonds of a somewhat sharp discipline. It was altogether characteristic of his heart, that when some years afterwards he began to draw a salary for himself, one of his first presents was a handsome silk dress which he sent home to the old Provost’s wife. It seemed to be his way of showing that he remembered her kindnesses to him and was forgetful of all else.

Alexander, while living in Airlie Lodge, attended the Academy of Dundee for some time. From Dundee he passed to St. Andrews, where he attended “Madras College,” and then took one or two sessions at the University. After this he entered his grandfather’s office in Dundee, and served his business apprenticeship there.

The religious life of Dundee, a little before the time of which we speak, had been feeble. Largely through the influence of Dr. Chalmers, the Rev. John Roxburgh (afterwards Dr. Roxburgh) was placed in the Cross Church, Dundee. His advent gave a great impulse to the spiritual life of the place. And some time after, the saintly Robert Murray M‘Cheyne was added to the labourers in that field. Alexander with his grandfather was under Mr. Roxburgh’s ministry, but at the same time he attended Mr. M‘Cheyne’s Bible-class. These circumstances, under the arrangement of Divine Providence, were much in favour of the highest interests of the youth. A surviving relative informs us that she distinctly remembers being told by him, that on one occasion Robert M‘Cheyne put his hand upon his shoulder and said, “Alexander, how is it with your soul?” The gentle look, the loving voice, and the all-important inquiry produced a deep impression on his sensitive nature, and left an influence which never passed away.

In a pocket memorandum book, bearing date 1868, we find copied the following words, which had probably been brought under his eye when searching among old papers:--“On an exercise of mine on John x., verse 9, Mr. M‘Cheyne wrote: ‘Very good; now you should seriously inquire whether you have entered at this door or not; or whether you are still a lost sheep like that one in Luke xv. Are you in the fold? Are you saved? Does Jesus give you pasture? Can you sing the 23rd Psalm _in your heart_?--Signed, R. M. M‘C.’”

Thus do we find a link in early life, between one of Scotland’s most saintly and winning ministers, and one of England’s most large-hearted and generous merchants.

We must not close this chapter without recording a family tradition of a dark and dismal character, which is deeply stamped on the memory of the venerable Leven relative above referred to. The incident takes us back to the days of persecution, when the murky moor and the heather-clad mountain were dyed with the blood of Scotland’s noblest sons. For eighteen long years, largely at the instigation of Archbishop Sharp, suffering and death for conscience’ sake were endured. But “they that take the sword shall perish with the sword.” The day of vengeance came. Driven to despair, and determined to stop the career of the arch-persecutor, some of the people forgot their own principles, shut their ears to the pleadings of the gentle Hackston of Rathillet, and slew the guilty Sharp on Magus Moor, three miles from St. Andrews, on the 3rd of May 1679. Janet Farmer, a direct ancestress of the Balfours, occupied the farm of Magus. She saw two of the murderers approach her horse-pond and wash the blood from their weapons. Weird and terrible was the sight. No eye beheld but hers. A large reward was offered for information that might lead to the detection of the assassins. But Janet, though doubtless condemning the deed with the general body of the Covenanters, kept her counsel, and would make no sign. She thought that too much blood had flowed already.