Memoirs of Sir Wemyss Reid 1842-1885Reid, T. Wemyss (Thomas Wemyss)
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Memoirs of Sir Wemyss Reid 1842-1885
Reid, T. Wemyss (Thomas Wemyss)
Journalists -- Great Britain -- Biography; Reid, T. Wemyss (Thomas Wemyss), 1842-1905
My stay at St. Andrews ended at last in a somewhat melancholy fashion. As
the place seemed to agree with me, it was settled that I should remain
for a year at least; and in order that the time might not be wasted I was
sent to school, the school being the well-known Madras College. Here both
boys and girls were taught together. Of the present state of that famous
institution I know nothing, nor do I wish to utter a word of
disparagement of those who were responsible for its management fifty
years ago; but to me, a timid boy who, in spite of his Northumbrian burr,
was turned to ridicule as a Cockney by the Fifeshire lads and lasses, it
wore the aspect of a veritable place of torment. That classic instrument
of discipline, the tawse, was in use at every hour of the day, girls as
well as boys receiving barbarous punishment under the eyes of their
class-mates. Perhaps the cruelty was not so great as it seemed to me, but
at all events it was enough, so far as I was concerned. My dread of the
terrible lash grew into a brooding horror, which poisoned my days and
destroyed my nights; and before I had been a month at the school I was
seized with an attack upon the brain which nearly proved fatal.
Let me mention here, by way of testifying to the orthodoxy of the
religious training given to my young soul, that on the first night on
which I became delirious I was pursued by a phantom, plainly visible to
my overwrought imagination, which wore the exact guise of the Evil One.
Horns, hoofs, tail, and trident, were all clearly seen, and I sprang
wildly from side to side of my bed trying to evade the fiend's attempt to
capture me, until at last I took refuge, trembling and almost fainting,
in my grandfather's arms. My youth and my good constitution carried me
safely through an illness of no ordinary severity, and one day, as I lay
in bed in the first stage of convalescence, I had the joy of hearing my
mother's voice, and of knowing that she was with me once more. A few days
later I returned with her to Newcastle, and thus ended the attempt to
make a Scotsman of me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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