THE "AUTOBIOGRAPHY" OF GEORGE COMBE, m 



was a filthy swamp in winter, and covered with dunghills in summer ; 

 tan-works and magnesia-works poured their refuse into open ditches of 

 small declivity all around the place. The public drain from two hum- 

 ble localities of Edinburgh ran uncovered past the dwelling, and the 

 house itself was connected with his father's brewery. A more un- 

 healthy residence could hardly be conceived. The two-story house con- 

 tained two rooms, a kitchen and bedroom on the lower, and three rooms 

 and a very small bedroom on the upper floor. When Combe was about 

 ten years old an additional room and bedroom were built. At about 

 this time (1798) the family consisted of the parents, thirteen children, 

 and the servants, all crowded into these small rooms. Combe says, 

 " The conditions of health and disease were wholly unknown, the mind 

 being regarded as independent of the body, and the constant sickness 

 and many deaths in the family were never thought of in connection 

 with these material surroundings." 



Combe thought that if people only knew better they would do bet- 

 ter ; but after a lapse of eighty years, and with our abundant knowl- 

 edge of sanitary science, it seems that in the public schools of New 

 York to-day the conditions of health and disease are frequently no more 

 thought of than they were in Edinburgh when Combe was a child. 



It will be observed that, in telling us about his education, Combe 

 all the while distinguishes sharply between his real education and his 

 nominal education. His knowledge of mental science, such as it was, 

 helped him to interpret his own experiences. The things he remem- 

 bers are to him indexes to his natural gifts, as the strongest impres- 

 sions would be made on his predominant faculties. By this means he 

 discovers the emotional bias that shaped his life, in the incidents of a 

 summer spent on his uncle's farm when he was three or four years old. 

 His first remembered lesson was given him here by one James Reid, a 

 young farmer who came often to visit his aunt and cousins. Combe 

 says of him : 



He was a clever, intelligent person, and fond of jokes and fun. He gave 

 me a large red field-turnip, hollowed it out, cut a nose, mouth, and eyes in 

 one side, put a candle within, and astonished me by the apparition of a human 

 face with a dark-purple skin. He taught me to give myself a number of ridicu- 

 lous names, such as Timothy, Peter, Baldy, Elshinder, and so forth ; and for the 

 sport which this afforded he gave me a halfpenny. The list was closed with 

 the name " Scoundrel Grant " (the familiar name of a mean man in Edinburgh) ; 

 and I observed that when I wound up by giving myself this appellation there 

 was a loud shout of laughter from all the company. This hearty laugh led me 

 to suspect something wrong in that name, and I stopped short at it. Mr. Reid 

 tempted me with another halfpenny to complete the list, and I reluctantly 

 uttered " Scoundrel Grant." The reward was given amid shouts of laughter, and 

 for the first time I became conscious of conflicting emotions. I was as much 

 ashamed of the name as I was pleased by the money, and when I was at length 

 told what " Scoundrel Grant " meant no power on earth could induce me to give 

 myself the name. 



