SHOEMAKER'S WIFE AND POETESS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2924, 30 March 1910, Page 72

SHOEMAKER'S WIFE AND POETESS.

I was co deeply interested in reading, the reminiscences of a septuagenarian, Mr John Plummer, 'n an Adelaide paper concerning Janet Hamiltcjn that I have been tempted to reproduce the chief points of the article. Her life history shows how difficulties almost Insuperable may be overcome by perseverance. In 1850 John Cassell, who had himself been a simple working man, and, like the Messrs Chambers and Charles Knight, become a rnoneer in the diffusion of cheap literature of a wholesome character, invited contributions from members of the British labouring classes for one of his serial publications. Among the numerous articles forworded to him in response was one on "Counteracting Influences," dealing in a quiet, argumentative manner with the evils of intemperance. The writer was Janet Hamilton, a Scottish shoemaker's wife. Other articles followed in somewhat rapid succession, and their clear and forcible style led several literary men to predict a fair share of .success for the future efforts of "the young and risijag authoress," as they deemed her to be. They little thought that when Janet Hamilton composed her first article she was upwards- of 50 years of age ; or that, being unable to write her own name, although a good reader, she had to learn, by heart the various portions of her essay. Her husband or son subsequently wrote them from her dictation. This was courting literature under unwonted difficulties, but the- strain thus imposed on. her memory became at last wholly unbearable, and compelled her to invent a, peculiar kind of caligraphy, intelligible* only to herself and her son. The latter transcribed the notes into the orthodox style of handwriting. I possess several specimens of her penmanship, which, to the uninitiated, would appear like examples of cuneiform writing. Mr Plummer says that when he became a member of Johra Cassell's editorial staff he was frequently in communication with Janet Hamilton, who mentioned that.she had seen several of my songs in Scottish newspapers, and "liked them very much." To me, when I became acquainted with the story of her life, it seemed almost incredible. Here was a woman whose life has been spent in ceaseless toil, who was burthened with the wearisome cares and anxieties of a numerous household", and had, moreover, passed the prime of life—a working woman who had never learned to write, and whose limited income prevented her from procuring more than a few of the cheaper class of books. She was, indeed, a wonder, a grand example of patient perseverance. She was born in Lanarkshire in 1795, and came of a good stock. She was, as •she told me in one of her letters, fifth in descent from John Whitelaw, who was executed at the Old Tolbooth of Edinburgh in 1683, four years after the battle at Bothweil Bridge, im which he had taken part. He was well known as a determined supporter of covenanting principles. This was the case with Janet Hamilton, who appeared to have inherited much of the fearless spirit of her ancestor. Het father was a shoemaker, while her mother gained a livelihood by field labour or the spinning wheel; the twain were too poor to afford more than a single apartment, which was made to serve as living room, workroom, and bedroom. In this room Janet first saw the light. When or how she first became acquainted with tfoalphabet is unknown, but in one of her letters to Mr Plummer she said that, to use the words of Topsy (she was passionately fond of "Uncle Tom's Cabin"), she thinks "it must have growed." However, at the early age of five she found herself reading with delight whatever Bible stories or children's books came in her wa(y. When about eight years old, she discovered, to her great joy, on the loom, of an intelligent weaver a copy of Milton's "Paradise Lost," and another of Allan Ramsay's poems, which she never wearied of reading. "I -con,'.' she said, "becamj

familiar with and could appreciate the gorgeous ' sublimity of Milton's Imagery, and the grandeur of his ideal conceptions. With Ramsay I was at home ait once, for, ?'oung as I was, I was beginning to get ich in the ballad treasure of my country." The village library, to which Janet's .'father had access, afforded her the means to obtain the use of many works of information and instruction. She, did not, however, spend all her time in reading ; a portion of the day was employed at the spinning wheel or at the tambour' •frame. After she had married and was engaged in rearing a young family on email, means, she was'busy enough, and most of her reading hours were taken from sleep. Her introduction to the reading public was the essay written for John Cassell. His invitation for contributions by British working men and women came to her, she said, like a trumpet call. True, she could not write, but "Where there's e will there's a way." Janet Hamilton was not the woman to be daunted by difficulties. The readiness with which her prose and poetical efforts were subsequently ,acoepted by editors caused her to pen a large number of verses and essays, which were subsequently published in a series of volumes. She never, however neglected her household duties. Her app'earance in the literary field was something of a novelty. There have been many working class poets'; but here was a working woman. .' grey-haired dame, fast approaching the Biblical span of threescore .sad; ten, becoming a claimant

for poetical honours, and, what was more, making good ber title to them. A Beautiful Poem.— In one of her songs, written at the age i of 70, Janet Hamilton thus sang of the charming banks oi Calder, a picturesque Scottish stream :—■ Straying, musing, singing, dreaming, '.Neath the leafy banners streaming, Flecked with golden sunbeams gleaming, ; Through the woodlands dun; On lone Calder's banks reclining, J Where the briar and hazel, twining, i Screen me from the fervid shining ] Of the noontide sun. '] Sweet thy soft melodious gushing, 1 Sylvan stream! and sweet the hushing j Of the breeze, with soft breath pushing ; Wide the opening flowers; Pendant honeysuckles flinging Fragrance round; the woodbines clinging" Bound the elm; bird music singing In thy birchen bowers. Through thy waters —rippling, dancing, Where the minnow shoals are glancing— Slow I wade, and, still advancing, Reach >he farther shore; Lightly bounding o'er -the shingles, Through my limbs the warm blood tingles; With the birds my wild song mingles, Trilling o'er and o'er. Up the dell, all panting, glowing, Where the foxgloves tall are growing, Where the wild briar roses, blowing, Scent the summer air; Where the weeping Willow stoope'th, Where the silver runnel scocpeth Out her bed, where hyacinth droopeth, Slender, meek, and fair. Where the silver birch is waving, Where the crystal well-spring laving, Busy bees their treasure saving, Stands a lonely cot, ' . Bower'd in .iesaamine and roses, Flora there her .yealth discloses, Freely there her charms exposes. On that lovely spot. Many other pieces, equally meritorious, were composed by Airs Hamilton. Somie of them pasise.ss singular grace and elegance of expression; others, again, trench upon political subjects, for she was a keen Liberal in her views. All, however, exhibit an extraordinary power of delineating character, and are free from that pessimistic spirit which so frequently mars the production of Australian versifiers. She certainly was no ordinary woman. 1 She was one of the great spirits in the humbler a alks of life, one who by a happy combination, even in her old age, of intellectual recreation jpifch the daily routine of domestic duties afforded a wholesome and encouraging exemplification of the ancient saying—" Business •first and pleasure afterwards."